by Timothy Zahn
"And the rest?" Roger asked.
"They're called Arm Workers," Nikolos said. "Creators have a smaller degree of the Visionary Gift than that possessed by Visionaries or Farseers, while Manipulators are less powerful Groundshakers.
Most of the rest possess the Gifts of strength and stamina and dexterity that permit them to work as Laborers. Overall, they make up between half and two-thirds of our population."
"And the Warriors?" Caroline asked.
"They have the same Gifts of stamina and strength as the Laborers, but with extra measures of speed and agility," Nikolos said. "They also have considerably more power and control of the Shriek."
"And you know in advance which of these categories each child is going to fit into?" Caroline asked.
Nikolos eyed her. "You disapprove?"
"I find it hard to believe a Green has so little control over his or her life," Caroline said, taking his gaze without flinching.
"I'm sure you do," Nikolos agreed calmly. "But we're not like you, Caroline. The Gifts aren't like Human talents for art or spelling or mechanics, something that can be used or ignored as the owner chooses. They're something we're born with, like the color of our eyes and the texture of our skin. At the age of twelve, each child sits down with Leader or Visionary and is put through the series of tests that formally identifies his or her Gift. That gives the child three years to learn the responsibilities and potentials of that Gift before assuming the full mantle of adulthood."
Caroline's lip twitched. "It doesn't seem fair."
"In some ways, it isn't," Nikolos conceded. "And I admit there have been times I've envied you Humans your ability to choose your own destiny, despite the handicap of having to spend weary years learning a skill which to us comes naturally." He shrugged. "But we are what we are, whether Human or Green. All we can do is accept it and move on."
"Perhaps," Caroline said, her voice carefully neutral. "How long did you live in the Great Valley?"
"I don't know the exact number of years," Nikolos said. "I do know that my father's grandfather told him of the journey northward, and of their first contact with the Grays."
"So about three generations," Roger said, relieved to be back to a less contentious topic. "Did you see this Great Valley yourself?"
"Of course," Caroline said before Nikolos could answer. "Velovsky said Elymas and his son were both there when they arrived at Ellis Island, remember?"
"That's correct," Nikolos said. "I saw the Great Valley at the very end of the good times, and at the very beginning of the bad."
"How did the war start?" Caroline asked.
"With a simple disagreement," Nikolos said, shaking his head. "Don't most things start that way?
The Grays were running low on some of their metals and wanted to expand their mining operations downriver. Our Leaders pointed out that the Others had gradually been settling closer to that end of the Great Valley and that the noise of mining might lead them to us. We suggested instead that the Grays send an expedition into the outside world and purchase the metals from the Others."
"What didn't the Grays like about that?" Roger asked.
"They said the Others thought we were all dead, and that appearing in the open would bring them down on us even faster than the sounds of mining would." Nikolos snorted under his breath. "I don't know what they did to the Others they lived among before they fled from their original homes, but knowing their rough behavior and lack of discipline I can think of several reasons they might be concerned about being found. At any rate, they made it clear they would oppose any attempt by anyone, Green or Gray, to reestablish contact with the Others."
"Who exactly were these Others?" Roger asked.
Nikolos shrugged. "I never actually met one, of course, but the Pastsinger memories record a people very similar in appearance to you or I. Some Greens even speculated they were an actual, physical cross between Greens and Grays, since they built with stone and metal like the Grays but also cultivated the soil and used wood from trees as we ourselves did." He waved a hand. "A completely ridiculous theory, of course, given the vast differences between Green and Gray physiology. But culturally and artistically, at least, it's fair to say the Others stood midway between our peoples."
"So which way did the decision go about the metals?" Roger asked.
"We never made it that far," Nikolos said grimly. "One night, when all were asleep, some of the Grays from the Eastcliffs slipped across the river and set fire to our end of the forest."
Caroline inhaled sharply. "No," she breathed.
"Yes," Nikolos said. His eyes were closed now, his forehead pinched. "You can't imagine what it was like," he said in a low voice. "Panicked children in their trees, their parents struggling to get them out as the fire burned all around them. Other adults and children running frantically across a carpet of burning leaves, trying to reach the safety of the river."
His eyes opened, a black fire burning suddenly within them. "And all the while, the whistle of Gray hammerguns as they fired volley after volley into the forest at us."
"What about your Warriors?" Roger asked. "Didn't they fight back?"
Nikolos smiled bitterly. "Of course they did. But sitting across the river midway up their cliffs, the Grays were too far away to be affected by the Shriek. The archers could find no target in the darkness, and the Warriors couldn't climb up to engage them hand to hand. In desperation, our Leaders summoned the Groundshakers and ordered them to bring down the cliffs."
"What do you mean, bring down the cliffs?" Roger asked carefully.
"Exactly what I said," Nikolos told him. "As the Grays had used our dependence on trees against us, so we now used the stone and rock they loved against them."
The skin on the back of Roger's neck began to tingle. "Are you saying they created an earthquake?"
"The Greens are a people of great strength," Nikolos said, the anger in his voice momentarily eclipsed by pride. "As moral authority lies with the Leaders and Visionaries, so physical power rests with the Groundshakers."
"But you said there were Gray families on those cliffs," Caroline protested. "Women and children."
"Did they care about our women and children when they set fire to our forest?" Nikolos snapped. He broke off, passing a hand in front of his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice more subdued. "Of course we regretted the deaths of innocents. But we had no choice. The Grays were still firing, shattering our trees all around us, and we had to protect our own. The only way to stop them was to bring down their cliffs."
He closed his eyes again. "The Grays continued to fire as the rock began to splinter around them, now specifically targeting the Groundshakers. But they were too late. The Eastcliffs broke and fell, and their attack was finally ended."
"Yes," Roger murmured. "But there was still the Gray colony on the other side of the Great Valley."
"A much larger colony, too," Nikolos agreed quietly. "By the time the morning light began to struggle through the smoke rising from our ruined trees, the war had begun in earnest. In the space of a few days it had spread to the entire Great Valley."
He shook his head sadly. "And within a handful of months, it was clear there was no hope. The Great Valley we'd loved had become a killing ground: thousands of us dead, thousands of our trees burned or shattered into splinters. Many thousands of our enemies were dead too, of course. But if we continued as we were, the only end could be the mutual destruction of both our peoples."
"Which is where Velovsky's story picks up," Roger said as understanding struck him. "Your Leaders decided to leave."
"They decided to save a remnant," Nikolos corrected. "Sixty of us were selected, representing most of the Gifts, with my father chosen to lead them. The Farseers had located a new home, and a vehicle was constructed to take us there. The remaining Groundshakers and Manipulators joined their strength together beneath the guidance of the Visionaries; and in the beat of a hummingbird's wing we were here."
His eyes drifted t
o the tall windows. "It was a strange world, noisy and dirty, full of people whose speech we couldn't understand," he said in a low voice. "But all we could see was the fact that the terrible war with the Grays was over, and that at last we were safe."
Roger snorted gently. "And so, of course, eleven years later Adolf Hitler would touch off the worst war our world had ever known."
Nikolos smiled. "The universe does have a sense of irony."
"Did your people fight in that war?" Caroline asked.
"Not in that one, or in any since," Nikolos told her. "I'm sure you realize that allowing military doctors to examine us would be a disaster. No, our Persuaders kept us out of the army, while we found other ways to serve our adopted country."
"In war factories?" Roger asked.
"Many of our Arm Workers did so, yes," Nikolos said, nodding. "Others found more creative ways.
Have you ever heard about the German sabotage team who slipped ashore from a U-boat on Long Island in June of 1942?"
Caroline shook her head. "No."
"Actually, I think I have," Roger said, frowning as he searched his memory. "Didn't they run straight into a soldier patrolling the beach?"
"A Coast Guardsman, actually," Nikolos corrected. "A young man, only twenty-one, alone and in heavy fog. But instead of killing him and moving on, the saboteurs tried to bribe him, then simply let him go. Historians generally put it down to their reluctance to kill someone so young in cold blood."
"But you have a different theory?" Roger suggested.
"We know the truth," Nikolos said. "Our Warriors were patrolling the New York coastal areas, including Long Island, watching for precisely this sort of thing. The one who detected this particular group was close enough to a Persuader to call her in. She manipulated them into letting the young man go."
His lips twitched a smile. "She also persuaded one of the saboteurs to give himself up a week later, after the efforts by the Coast Guard, Naval Intelligence, and the FBI had come up empty."
A stray memory popped into Roger's mind: Stavros, at the Green apartment building near Central Park, opening doors without bothering to knock, as if he already had permission to enter. "I presume the Warrior didn't need a radio to call in the Persuader?"
"We can communicate with each other over short distances, yes," Nikolos confirmed. "For most of us, the range is no more than the length of a city block. Those with the particular Gift of Farspeaking are stronger, able to send and receive thoughts over much greater distances."
He smiled faintly. "We can't read Human minds, either, in case you were wondering."
"But you can talk to our minds," Caroline spoke up. "The Greens who came to our apartment yesterday afternoon were calling to me."
Nikolos made a face. "That would have been Cyril," he said. "Only a Persuader or Farspeaker would have the strength to send a message to a Human."
"Or to talk our super into unlocking our apartment," Roger put in. "How did he find us, anyway?"
"We'd seen a Gray searching that area the previous night, and guessed that they knew something we didn't," Nikolos said. "When Cyril got your name from Sylvia, he took it upon himself to check out all the Roger Wh-somethings in the area."
He looked at Caroline. "Once he learned your name, Caroline, he apparently decided to try to contact you."
"And to see if he could get Melantha back directly?" Caroline asked.
Nikolos hesitated. "Like all the rest of us, Cyril uses his Gift only for what he thinks best for our people."
"And how exactly does killing Melantha fit in with that noble goal?" Roger asked, folding his arms across his chest. "So far everyone we've met has done a tap dance around that question."
"I'm far too old to dance," Nikolos said tiredly. "The fact is that she was an unexpected surprise, a Gift that shouldn't have appeared until our population was at least twice the size it is now."
He sighed. "Melantha, you see," he said, "is a Groundshaker."
18
Something hard and cold settled into the pit of Caroline's stomach. That couldn't be right. Not the fragile young girl with bruises on her throat whom she'd helped carry to their apartment. Not the girl she'd played cards with, and fed eggs and cheese to, and dressed in her own clothes. Not the girl who'd sobbed on her shoulder in misery and grief and loneliness.
But even as the reflexive denial rose in her throat, another, darker image flashed through her mind.
Melantha, no longer young or fragile, standing tall and strong in the courtyard last night, unflinching as the old woman's scream washed over her and sending back a terrible, defiant scream of her own.
A scream that had sent the ground heaving beneath Caroline like a stung horse.
"That's crazy," Roger insisted. "Melantha?"
"Believe it," Nikolos said darkly. "The test was run by the Farseers and confirmed by the Manipulators. It is accurate."
"It is, Roger," Caroline told him. "She did it last night, before you got there. She shook the whole courtyard."
"And that was only a fraction of the power she'll have when she reaches adulthood." Nikolos turned to look out the window. "The skyscrapers of New York are earthquake-proof, or so their designers claim," he said quietly. "But they have no idea how much focused power a Groundshaker can unleash. She will literally be able to bring down any building she chooses."
"Like 9/11," Caroline murmured. "Only a hundred times worse."
"Exactly," Nikolos said, nodding. "You see now why it's vital that we get her back."
"I'm sorry, but I still don't understand," Roger said. "I can see why the Grays would want to get rid of her. But she told Caroline everyone wanted her dead. Grays and Greens."
"Well, I don't want her dead," Nikolos said. "Neither do Aleksander and his supporters. But Cyril's managed to persuade more of us that her sacrifice would be in our best long-term interests. Now that the decision's been made, there's nothing the rest of us can do about it."
Caroline frowned. But if that was the case, why had Sylvia tried so hard to get Roger to bring Melantha to her and Aleksander? "So it's like a democracy?" she asked. "You vote on what to do, then assume everyone will fall into line behind the decision?"
"It's not quite that chaotic," Nikolos said hesitantly. "It's difficult to explain to people who don't share our ability for mind-to-mind contact. Basically, Cyril and Aleksander used their persuasion Gifts to state their positions to the other Greens."
"In the strongest terms possible, I suppose," Caroline murmured.
"Why do you say that?" Nikolos asked.
"You do call them Persuaders," Caroline reminded him. "I presume their particular Gift is to make people do what they want, like Cyril tried to do to Melantha and me."
"You make it sound more manipulative than it really is," Nikolos said. "As I said, it's hard to explain to Humans."
"Velovsky seemed to understand," Caroline said.
"Velovsky's a special case," Nikolos said, a little tartly.
"Okay, so they try to persuade the others," Roger cut in. "What happens then? You vote?"
"Not in so many words," Nikolos said. "Those who agreed with Cyril added their mental strength in his support, as did those who agreed with Aleksander. When the two Persuaders then faced off against each other, the one with the stronger position was empowered to make the decision. In this case, that was Cyril."
Roger snorted gently. "Town meeting meets prize fight."
Caroline fought back a grimace. To her, it sounded more like the worst of Madison Avenue meeting the worst of manipulative pressure politics. "But how could he possibly persuade them to kill Melantha?" she asked. "Isn't she your best weapon?"
"Not yet she isn't," Nikolos said. "All she has is potential; and that's the point, really. At the moment, we and the Grays are fairly evenly matched, with neither side holding enough advantage to feel confident in launching an attack. But by the time Melantha reaches fifteen, that will change."
He lifted his eyebrows. "Which mea
ns that, from the Gray point of view, if they intend to try to destroy us, they need to move now."
"Only they can't, because you're at parity," Roger said, his voice carrying sudden understanding. "So you made a deal with them?"
"It's called a truce," Nikolos said stiffly. "Is that so hard to understand?"
"But they attacked you," Roger objected. "They burned your forest."
"And I personally will never forget that," Nikolos said quietly, and Caroline shivered at the edge in his voice. "Neither will any of my generation, most of whom would gladly risk everything by throwing my sixty Warriors into a final battle against our enemies."
"And where do you stand?" Caroline asked.
Nikolos took a deep breath. "I'm a Command-Tactician," he said. "I lead Warriors, not the Greens as a whole. Whatever our leaders decide, I have no choice but to support that decision."
"So in exchange for peace," Caroline said darkly, "Cyril agreed to murder a twelve-year-old girl."
"Easy, hon," Roger said. But his voice sounded strained, too. "It's the kind of decision nations have to make all the time."
"And it certainly wasn't made as casually as you imply," Nikolos insisted. "We explored every other possibility first, from sending Melantha and her family into exile to seeing if it was possible to surgically remove her ability to use her Gift. It was only with the greatest reluctance that we finally concluded that this was the only way."
"So what went wrong?" Roger asked.
"We still don't know," Nikolos said, making a face. "A delegation of Greens and Grays met in Riverside Park that night, assembling by the Carrere Memorial."
"Wouldn't the other side of the Parkway, by the river, have suited you better?" Caroline muttered.