Then I looked at the close-up views, and I understood why.
Every inch of the planet had been developed, but without any sense of a master plan. I saw primitive construction in some places—brick and mortar, concrete and glass—and high-tech synthetics in others. Even the star city had a sense of chaos about it, different parts constructed out of different materials, in different styles. That wasn’t what a Bellasi colony city should look like, I thought. But it was what a planet might look like if a species had evolved there, each new generation layering its construction over what had been built before.
“Welcome to the Bellasi homeworld,” Caswell announced.
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
We’d found it. We’d really found it. I stared at the screen in disbelief, half expecting the planet to disappear when I blinked. But it didn’t. Caswell’s damned algorithm had worked! And if his other theories were equally valid, then the Bellasi Interface must be down there somewhere. Earth’s salvation was at hand, and we were the ones who would deliver it.
To say that we were jubilant would be an understatement. Basinger broke out her private store of 30-year-old scotch and we laughed and we drank and danced and some of us even cried, intoxicated by an elation as complex as it was intense. We were crusaders entering Jerusalem, Columbus sighting land, soldiers raising the flag on Iwo Jima, marathon runners crossing the finish line with arms raised, the blood-red ribbon cutting across our chests as a thousand spectators screamed our names. We were all the dreams of Earth. We were all the hungers of mankind. Manifest. Satisfied. Transcended.
Thus do gods celebrate.
* * *
As we approached the Bellasi homeworld, we sent out messages. We filled the darkness of space with our humble attempts at saying hello, and then waited breathlessly for a response. Any kind of response. Because if there was a single Bellasi left alive in the galaxy, surely this was where he would be.
But there was only silence.
On Sunday 217, we established orbit around the planet and we took two landers down to the center of the star-shaped city. That was where the ritual chamber had been located on all the colony planets, so we figured it would be there on this planet as well. But it wasn’t. We searched in expanding circles from the central point, inspecting the nearest buildings room by room, looking for any clue as to where a facility like that might be located.
We found nothing.
All of us were suffering from frayed nerves at that point. To come this close to realizing Earth’s greatest dream and not be able to close the deal was frustrating for all of us, but for Caswell it was infuriating. He rushed from building to building like a man possessed, and each time his search came up empty he would curse the planet, or the Bellasi, or even God, like this was some kind of personal affront. It wasn’t helping my state of mind, so when Basinger asked for a volunteer to take a lander up and get a bird’s-eye view of the city, I jumped at the chance.
Peace at last.
But no matter how long I stared at the city from overhead, I couldn’t find any clue to help direct us in our search. Wherever the ritual chamber was—if it was on this planet at all—it was well hidden. Finally, with a sigh, I reported my findings to Captain Basinger. I could hear the frustration in her voice as she thanked me for trying, and somewhere in the background Caswell started cursing. I didn’t feel up to dealing with him, so I asked if I could stay up a bit longer.
Staring down at the city—sensing the vastness of the planet beyond it—I suddenly wondered if our search had been doomed from the start. What if we were looking in the wrong place? Yes, this star city looked like all the others, but in fact it was nothing like them. The others had been planned out completely before the first shovel full of dirt was moved; nothing was left to chance. This city had grown organically, possibly over the course of centuries. And while it might be the biggest and most dramatic city on the planet, visible from space, that didn’t mean it was the most significant location to the Bellasi.
So what kind of place would be?
I asked if I could take the lander out further, to explore the surrounding terrain. Just a hunch, I told Captain Basinger. Since no one had any better ideas, she said yes.
And so I left the star-shaped city behind. Maybe I would be able to find the Holy Grail on my own, maybe not. But the peace of my solitary flight was soothing, and I wasn’t ready to give it up just yet.
* * *
I flew low over the main continent, across a narrow sea, past a few volcanic islands, to the second largest land mass. As I did so, images from the planet’s surface scrolled across my screen. I saw gleaming metropoli surrounded by simpler towns, and ancient monuments whose original purpose had probably been forgotten long before the Bellasi discovered space travel. It made the aliens seem more human to me. No longer were they cartoon caricatures of peace and perfection, but flawed beings who had evolved from primitive roots just like we did, each generation building upon the ruins of the last.
Where would such a species choose to house their most precious artifact? On the colony planets the Bellasi had no choice about the matter: everything in the star-shaped cities was equally new, equally planned, and no one location had any more cultural significance than any other. But here, in a world that was rich with historical resonance, there might be better options. Maybe the Bellasi would want a setting with sacred overtones, something linked to the founding of their civilization.
I had the lander’s computer scan all available data, searching for locations that might fit the bill. Alas, there were too many to count, and without better knowledge of Bellasi history, I had no way to narrow the options down. I tapped an agitated finger on the control panel as I tried to come up with some detail that would distinguish my target site from all the others, some single feature that would tell me which location the Bellasi had favored…
And then it hit me.
Trembling with excitement, I had the computer identify any site that had multiple launch facilities nearby. Because if the Bellasi transfer ritual was performed here, surely visitors from other worlds would want to attend. There would be hordes of them, all arriving at the same time, all needing places to land and store their spacecraft, places to eat and rest and entertain themselves in their spare time, as well as easy transportation to and from the ritual site. In the great star cities, arrangements like that were common; those vast metropoli had been built to accommodate interplanetary activity. But an older site would not have had those conveniences. Its location would have been chosen for historical resonance, not architectural convenience, and the launch pads would have to be built wherever space could be found, perhaps linked to the ritual location by roads that twisted through ancient villages. High tech and ancient history intermingled, in that wonderful, uncomfortable way that Earth was so familiar with.
How many sites like that could there be?
The computer found three. One was in a sandstone desert, a meteor strike pit with twisted, wind-carved monuments arranged around the rim. Since there was no building nearby large enough to accommodate the crowds that would attend the transfer ritual, I ruled that one out. The second was an island with a forest of primitive statues, connected to other islands by a spider’s web of roads. Again, I saw no place where a great number of people could gather, so, two down. The third was an ancient columned temple, like the Parthenon in style but ten times larger, atop a windswept hill. The roads leading out from it had a vaguely star-shaped plan, as if the Bellasi had tried to apply the same template they used in their colonies, but the terrain had prevented them from doing so perfectly. At the end of each road was a launch facility surrounded by modern buildings. Enough to house thousands.
My heart began to pound as pictures of the place scrolled before me. This is it, I thought. I’ve found it. Trembling, I reached for the comm switch to call Captain Basinger and the others; surely it was my duty to let them share in this amazing moment! But what if I was wrong? Having them fly two hours to get
here, their hearts filled with hope, only to face another disappointment, wasn’t going to improve the spirit of the mission. I owed it to them to at least do a basic recon, and confirm that the site was worth investigating further.
I ordered the lander to set me down just outside the temple building. The air when I disembarked was hot and dry, and for a moment I just stood there, breathing it in, trying to steel my nerves for what might turn out to be the galaxy’s greatest disappointment. Then I started walking through the field of dry scrub that surrounded the building. From the condition of the place I guessed there were no maintenance bots active, though I did find the rusted remnants of one. The building’s façade was pitted and cracked and there were places where whole sections had come loose, so that the ground was littered with debris. I picked my way over some sharp gravel to get to what remained of the door, two stubs of rotted wood hanging loosely from verdigris hinges. Beyond them was a chamber that was cavernous, dark, and still. The place had an eerie quality to it, like it wasn’t so much empty as waiting. I turned on my shoulder lamp as I entered, looking warily around me for signs of lurking wildlife; the place would be a perfect lair for some large animal. But nothing was moving. Nothing made a sound. Nothing was visible near the door except a scattering of leaves that the wind had blown in.
Then my light crossed the center of the room and my heart stopped.
Time stopped.
It was there. The same circle of statues we had seen on a dozen other worlds. Only this time all of the figures were Bellasi, and they were carved from a translucent white stone that glowed when my light hit it, giving them the aspect of angels. In the center of the circle was the same kind of pedestal we had seen on so many worlds, only this time it wasn’t bare. This time there was something on top of it, a bronze colored box with alien hieroglyphics all over it. Could this really be the item Earth had sought for so long? Was I really going to go down in history as the man who found it?
My heart began to pound wildly as I walked towards it. There were strips of gold wrapped around the box, like ribbons on a Christmas present, and they were fastened at the top with a faceted glass ball that I recognized as a message conveyer. My throat was so dry I could barely swallow. How long had it been since anyone had been here? When had the last Bellasi died, leaving their most precious artifact unattended? I’d never been much on religion, but it was hard to believe I would be facing this moment if someone or something hadn’t guided me here.
Call the others. The thought seemed distant, unreal. I was in a world of my own now, and my hand moved toward the crystal as if of its own accord. How could you look at such a thing and not want to touch it? There’s nothing to be afraid of, I told myself. The crystal is just a message carrier. The thing that has the power to change worlds is inside that box.
My fingers made contact with the crystal. It was colder than the room at first, but warmed to a fiery heat as my touch activated it.
I saw the Bellasi.
There were dozens of them in the chamber, skin tone ranging from bleached marble to polished ebony. I saw adult males and females in equal number—no children—and they were closing in on the box with crude weapons in hand: heavy axes, massive wooden clubs, the kinds of tools one would normally not associate with a high-tech empire. Then a tall male stepped in front of the artifact, protecting it with his body as he tried to get them to back away. As he gestured around the room, I saw the shattered remnants of similar boxes littering the floor, and I understood that this was the last one of its kind.
Finally he got the mob to back off. He sighed deeply, then placed a crystal upon the box: the same one I was now touching. This message was from him.
A quick succession of visions unfolded in my mind. I saw the Bellasi as they had been eons earlier, when their homeworld still teemed with life: a creative, passionate, restless people. I saw magnificent art being produced, paintings crafted in colors I couldn’t name, alien symphonies so beautiful that they would have made Beethoven weep. I watched as new generations were born, each child striving to surpass their parents. And I sensed in them the same hunger that had driven my species to explore the stars, and I knew that despite their alien appearance, they were human in every way that mattered.
The visions started to come more quickly after that. I saw the Bellasi empire at its peak, star-shaped cities gleaming in the interstellar darkness, spaceships dancing around them like drunken moths. There were other sentient species, some of them human in form and others so alien I couldn’t tell which end was which, all living in harmony with each other. No one seemed to have greater duty than to seek his own vision of happiness, for the gross physical requirements of life were all managed by machines, and the great cities were self-sustaining. It was everything Earth dreamed of, and more.
Yet it all seemed wrong to me. I didn’t know why. I kept staring at the images, wondering what it was about them that made my skin crawl, what wrongness I sensed in them, just below the level of conscious awareness, that made me so terribly afraid.
And then I realized what it was.
The children were gone.
There had been many in the beginning, I was sure of that. I remembered seeing large families in the parks, gathering beneath the glittering solar-collection trees to laugh and play. But there were fewer and fewer children as the visions progressed, each generation becoming smaller than the last…and now this. When had the point of no return been reached? Had some Bellasi seen the end coming, and tried to convince the inhabitants of Paradise that devoting years to nurturing and training and disciplining a child would be more appealing than a life of easy contentment? If so, the effort had failed. The Bellasi had created a world in which challenges were not viewed as a source of inspiration, but as hardships to be eradicated. And what greater challenge was there than to bring a new life into the world? Now, in this glittering galactic empire, there were no children at all, even among the alien species. I was looking at the last generation of Bellasi, the ones who left behind empty cities for us to find.
The final vision faded, and I saw the male Bellasi again. This time he seemed to be looking directly at me, and though I knew that it was only a vision, and the being who had crafted it was not actually present, the effect was unnerving. Now you know. He was speaking in a language I didn’t understand, but the Bellasi technology allowed me to grasp his meaning. You must choose your own course. A terrible sadness filled his eyes. I am sorry.
The vision disappeared.
I stood there in shock, trying to make sense of what I had just seen. Had Bellasi life truly become so effortless that the labor and sacrifice necessary to raise a child were deemed too great a burden? Or was the reason for their demise more primal than that? Was the struggle for survival so hard-wired into Bellasi genes that once it was gone there was nothing left to drive them? I remembered the magnificent art of their early period, and compared it to the bland, sterile cities in my later visions. It was not only the children that had disappeared, I realized. Without challenges to meet, without obstacles to overcome, the spirit of their race had been wasting away for centuries. And all the species that had joined them in Paradise, embracing the dream of easy prosperity, had followed them into oblivion. Killed by contentment.
In the end, the Bellasi had recognized their mistake; that was the meaning of my first vision. They had started to destroy all copies of the Interface, to keep other species from suffering their fate. But the guiding philosophy of their civilization prohibited them from dictating to other species what it must do, and so they had left one intact, perhaps as a sign of respect for our autonomy. Or perhaps as a test.
You must choose your own course, the Bellasi had said.
I was shivering now, and not just from physical cold. The burden of destiny that had fallen upon the Ponce de Leon’s crew seemed greater than any human company could bear. Because if we came home with the Interface, there was no question what would happen. Philosophers might argue about the wisdom of embracing Be
llasi technology, but in the end someone would activate the thing. No one would dare forbid it. The eight of us must decide, right here and right now, if we were willing to deliver to Earth the seeds of its own destruction.
No, I thought suddenly. Not the eight of us.
Caswell would never agree to keep our discovery a secret; too much of his ego was invested in this mission. And I didn’t think Captain Basinger would go for it, either. She had sacrificed too much to come out here, and returning home without the artifact would make it all meaningless.
If I brought the artifact back to the ship, it would be delivered to Earth. And if it was delivered to Earth, it would be activated.
The choice was mine to make, and mine alone.
My legs started shaking so badly I feared they wouldn’t support me. I lowered myself to my knees before the pedestal, while the stone angels looked on in silence. I wasn’t the one who should be deciding this. No single person should have the fate of his entire people placed upon his shoulders, least of all someone who was trained to fix broken waste disposal units, not solve existential dilemmas.
In my mind’s eye I saw all the miseries of Earth spread out before me. Poverty and war, hunger and injustice, an endless tide of suffering that man had struggled against for all his existence. The Bellasi Interface could fix all that. If I denied Earth access to their knowledge, then all future suffering would be on my head. Millions upon millions of people, down through the ages, suffering because of me.
But if I delivered the Interface, what then? Mankind might enjoy unparalleled peace and prosperity, but for how long? A thousand years, ten thousand? In my mind’s eye I saw the millions of people who would never be born if the Bellasi Interface was activated. Countless human lives that might have been filled with art and beauty and passion and hope, as well as pain, that now would never exist. Because of me.
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