Yet the Service was an adventurous life; they saw much that other Federation citizens had no chance to see. There was never any shortage of recruits, despite formidable admission standards. “I grew up wanting to be a Service agent, just as you wanted to be a pilot,” Liam said. “I was born in a backwater colony of my species’ original homeworld that didn’t have much to offer, and most of us aren’t free to travel on our own, you know—passage is expensive, just as it between League colonies.”
The Service’s special knowledgebase was off-limits to Terry, but he was free to explore the Federation knowledgebase whenever he wished. The difficulty was that it wasn’t written in Anglo or any other language of Earth, so he would be limited to viewing holographic representations. Terry found, however, that if he watched a holo in the company of some other person—and there were plenty of volunteers—he could pick up enough telepathically to grasp what it was about. In this way he was flooded with information about the look of diverse Federation worlds. By nightfall his head was swimming; he fell into bed scarcely able to remember where he was.
Again, there were disturbing dreams, and this time they were haunted by images of Liam with an alien, purplish face, like some figure out of a fantasy vid, yet more evocative of emotion. He woke in the dark trembling with it. What’s happening to me? he thought in desperation. Why does it bother me so? Meeting aliens was what I always longed for. . . .
For the next few days nothing changed. Terry spent them communicating with people of various races, enjoying their company and watching holos about their home worlds with enthusiasm. It was an experience beyond anything he had ever imagined; he was alternately overcome by gratitude to fate and an inner tumult he tried his best to shut out of his mind. The nights were less happy. Innumerable images crowded into his thoughts and overflowed, until he was unsure which he had been shown and which had merely risen from dreams. And always, the dreams included Liam, Liam in alien form, arousing a deep sense of loss, a feeling that everything had changed and that he himself could never go back to what he once had been.
~ 61 ~
On the fifth morning Liam announced, “Laesara wants to see you, Terry.”
“Laesara’s here?” Terry was astonished; why had this not been mentioned?
“She retired here many years ago, as all Service agents do in old age. She’s near death now, yet has hung on, which is unusual—most people die quickly, as Alison did. She has been too weak to leave her room and we weren’t sure she was up to seeing anyone. But when she perceived by remote viewing that you’re here now, she said that’s what she’s been waiting for.”
They rose several levels in one of the controlled-gravity shafts spaced around the dome’s perimeter. Terry entered Laesara’s room alone. It was larger than his, but otherwise similar except for being furnished with personal belongings. A slight figure in the huge bed, she sat back against a pile of cushions, looking no older than she had a century ago during their first meeting. Her hair had been white even then, of course; that was its natural color. Her golden skin glowed against the white pillow covers, and she was smiling.
Terry, she said silently. I knew that if I could live long enough, you’d come.
He realized that she didn’t have the voice synthesizer with which she’d spoken to him before. Though there was no need for him to speak aloud either, he did so, because his mind was too full of confused ideas and images to convey a clear thought otherwise. “I’m honored by your belief in my fitness to come,” he said. “I wasn’t aware of all you did for me until a few days ago. I don’t know how to express my thanks.”
It is I who am thankful that you are what you are. I knew a century ago that fate had sent you to us, but not until it brought you back from the exile we imposed did I see your true destiny. Can you forgive us, Terry?
“For Ciencia? I forgave you long ago, even before I knew how it would turn out.”
And for the years on Draconis. We tried our best to secure your release sooner.
“I’ve been amply repaid for my misfortunes—you gave me Estel not just once, but twice. I’ve had a good life all in all, Laesara. And being here is a bigger climax to it than I ever imagined.”
She beckoned and reached for his hand, clasping it with her seven-fingered one. Will you allow me to probe your mind?
Terry nodded assent; from her he could hold nothing back, nor did he want to. She had probed him a century ago, as had the Council head Jessica on Maclairn and later, another Elder at the time of his rescue from the crash. It had been overwhelming, and now he was already feeling overwhelmed. But it was her right to judge him, and he trusted her completely. He knelt by the side of the bed, his hand still in hers.
He felt her powerful mind touch his, and then he was spinning back through the years, reliving all that had passed since their farewell after the rescue, experiencing again the dangers and triumphs, the joy and the sadness. It took only a few moments, but he was as stirred emotionally as he would have been if they’d talked for hours.
Releasing his hand, Laesara told him, As I expected, you have proved worthy of what we’re demanding of you. But they are heavy demands. You are not entirely happy here.
“To be entirely happy while plunging into a whole new universe unknown to humankind isn’t possible, I guess. But I’d rather be here than anywhere else, especially since your people seem to think I’m achieving some greater good by it.”
Some greater good? Terry, you are the key—the person on whom the future of Earth’s civilization depends! Fate has been preparing you for this responsibility since long before you and I first met.
“Well, I hardly think being first contactee is as significant as that,” Terry said, embarrassed by her intensity.
Laesara seemed startled. They have not told you, then . . . no, I suppose not. It’s too soon.
“Told me what?”
Never mind. You will learn in due course why you are so important to us. But in the meantime, don’t be discouraged by your doubts about Liam. They will pass.
Oh, God. He’d hoped she hadn’t picked that up. “I haven’t lost any respect for Liam, if that’s what you mean,” he declared. “I’ll be forever grateful to him. I don’t know why I can’t feel as close to him as I did before I knew—”
Before you knew the extent of the difference between you. That is a natural reaction, Terry. It is one thing to accept beings of other species as equals, but much harder to identify with them in the way one does with an intimate friend. You have had very few close relationships in your life—Kathryn, whom you lost a century ago; your friend Jon, who died defending you from the Klan; Alison, whose death left you alone and grieving after nearly eighty years of a stable marriage; and finally Liam. At present Liam is your only anchor to the past. When your conception of him changed, you were set adrift; you cannot help feeling that perhaps you, too, are changing.
As always, Laesara understood more than he could have expressed. It occurred to Terry that she must have served not only as a mission coordinator and fleet commander, but as a mentor among her people; perhaps in the Service they were one and the same. Absorbing her advice—which he was perceiving telepathically in the form of concepts rather than words—he suddenly knew that the brief barrier to closeness with Liam had fallen. It would never trouble him again.
But it was true that he feared he himself was changing. He didn’t know his own mind anymore; there was too much in it that had come unbidden—he’d seen too much in too short a time that was unlike any human norm. And no doubt he had, as Liam predicted, drawn much from this world’s collective unconscious. . . .
You will adjust to it, Laesara assured him. You are capable of that, which is why you were chosen. I can move on now, happy in the knowledge that I chose wisely.
Move on? She meant death, Terry realized. Liam had said she was dying. Grief struck him, though he knew she was far older than he was and that it was past time for her to die.
I have looked forward to your comi
ng for eighty-seven of Earth’s years, Laesara declared, and although I will not be here to see the culmination of our mission, I have been given the privilege of seeing you pick up the torch. Godspeed, Terry. Never forget that I have faith in you. . . .
Her thought drifted, and he saw that she was exhausted. He did not know how to take leave of her, but it became apparent that he didn’t have to, for she had lost consciousness. Hoping that she nevertheless sensed the depth of his feeling for her, he quietly left the room.
Liam was waiting just outside. “What did she mean?” Terry asked in bewilderment. “She told me I’m the key to Earth’s future. She said something about a torch. But surely there will be plenty of other contactees before long. Being first is an honor, still it can’t make a difference to anyone but me.”
“It made a difference to her because she chose you personally,” Liam pointed out. “And she knew there are challenges ahead for you. Don’t worry about them. Just take one step at a time.”
That was what he’d advised before. Terry didn’t pursue the subject, but he went on wondering. Why a torch? The torch, on Maclairn, was the symbol of mind-power, the power to be passed on to all humankind. Her use of the metaphor revived his vivid memory of the Ritual, and again, as so many times in dreams, he thrust his hand into the flame and knew he was one with his fellow Stewards, a part of Maclairn forever, no matter how far he might travel from it. . . .
Laesara had known about the Ritual; she had drawn it from his mind the first time she probed him, to his dismay in view of the fact that he had sworn to keep it secret. And of course, it was she who had preserved and returned his flame pin, which he wore openly on his new tunic since from the Elders it need not be hidden. Perhaps that symbol was what she’d been referring to. She had made it possible for him to spread belief in new mind-powers throughout the League colonies. Yet that was the past; his work was done. From now on people would believe because of Earth’s contact with the Elders.
Late that night Laesara died. Many in the dome, and in the other domes on the planet, knew instantly; a collective wave of grief magnified the telepathic perception of her passing. Terry, too, sensed it, and alone in his room he wept for her. She, more than any other individual, had influenced the course of his life, though during most of it he hadn’t known that.
The next evening people of all races gathered for the funeral, which was holographically transmitted to the other domes. Laesara had been loved by everyone in the Service, and few had dry eyes—but only because she would be sorely missed. To them, as to the Maclairnans, death in old age was cause not for sadness but for celebrating the fulfillment of a life. The ceremony was formal; Liam and most of the others wore the white uniforms of Service agents, which, he said, were used only on special occasions and never on other worlds. They were symbols of unity. Terry envied them; he liked and admired these people but could never be part of their fellowship, nor could he ever again feel the unity he’d experienced on Maclairn.
Terry, because Laesara had sponsored him, stood in the front row of the circle surrounding the flower-decked catafalque, along with Liam and the few other members of her team not presently observing Earth. It was a beautiful rite, including music with a tonality strange to him, yet pleasing—electronic rather than vocal, since the different voices of the various species present precluded singing. There was little speech, and it was of course unintelligible to him; but the gist of it was shared telepathically by the gathering in any case—an outpouring of admiration and love for a person who would never be lost to memory.
The dome overhead had been set to full transparency so that the stars shone through with awesome clarity as if seen from a ship. The sight of them was dimmed only by the light of the torches that encircled the room. Torches again . . . was that a universal symbol of solemnity? Terry wondered. He recalled Corwin’s memorial on Maclairn, with rows of torches lining the terraces above the lake. Corwin’s death had been tragically premature; there had been no consoling awareness of a full life’s completion, as was shared among assembled mourners here. Had it been like this for the other mentors he’d admired, who must all be gone by now: Aldren . . . Tristan . . . Jessica?
When it was over he said to Liam, “It brought back memories of Maclairn—the older I get, the more vivid they are, sometimes. The mentors I knew would have liked so much to know the truth I had to keep from them. And to know Laesara—would she have met those alive now, if she’d lived a little longer? Would she have visited the world her team has guarded in secret for more than a century?”
“Perhaps. If it had been possible for her, she might have. Maclairn’s safety meant a lot to her, and she spoke of it often after she retired.”
Liam had never mentioned the timetable for contact with humankind, Terry realized. He’d been told only that he was first; how soon would there be others, perhaps a public revelation? He didn’t ask aloud, for he could sense that Liam perceived the question and was unwilling to answer it.
“It isn’t quite time yet,” Liam said, smiling. “I can’t say any more now, but when I’m free to discuss it, you’ll be the first to know.”
~ 62 ~
They spent several more weeks on Ydoril, with excursions to the planet’s surface and to the other domes—which required breathing masks—as well as ongoing study of other worlds. It was a happy time. Terry became comfortable with the variety of people he met and their physical differences were soon scarcely noticeable. The underlying barrage of input from alien minds also became less overwhelming, and his disturbing dreams ceased.
As for his feeling toward Liam, it was as if there had never been any worry. Liam was his friend, as always, and the thought of his body’s alterations became less intrusive. He was aware that Liam and Rowyn had indeed been lovers, and still were on occasion; but the images this brought to mind no longer troubled him.
Terry wondered, at times, what the future held for him. He was enjoying his stay and felt there were enough new experiences ahead to outlast a lifetime, and he’d made many good friends. Often he woke with a sense that his presence among aliens was too incredibly wondrous to be real. Still, there were other days when he felt restless, on edge, waiting for something he could not name, just as he had before starting out on his last trip in Estel. And though he had no desire to turn back time, he missed Estel. It had been the center of his life for too many years to be easily abandoned.
So when Liam suggested that it was time to move on, to see other Federation planets, Terry was glad. Holos were fascinating but no substitute for the real thing. He looked forward to traveling from world to world again.
As before, they went alone, just the two of them. They didn’t go in Estel, however. It would be better, Liam said, not to spend unnecessary days on the approach to each planet. So they chose a small Service ship like the landers in which the Elders had taken him to Ciencia. It could jump as well as land, and was fast enough in normal space to reach the destination world within a few hours after emergence near a star.
“This is going to be challenging,” Liam warned. “On Ydoril, people of many species live together as a single culture, and all of them are used to dealing with younger species, through study even if not on previous missions. But most Federation worlds are populated by the species native to them. They welcome delegates and tourists, but their own cultures dominate, just as Earth will retain its own culture despite contact with alien ones. You will be immersed, telepathically, in that culture—you’ll feel the effect of a different collective unconscious much more strongly than in a mixed one.”
They went first to Liam’s birthworld, a sparsely settled planet of a small bluish star. It being a colony world, his species hadn’t evolved there and its ecology revealed nothing about their origins, though they seemed to fit in well enough. The people, of course, looked like Rowan; Terry was glad that he’d had some time to prepare himself for the striking difference between Liam and his parents. The change must have been hard for them to accept, he though
t—but they greeted their son with the same warmth and love any family would feel toward a returning member, apparently untroubled. To be sure, they’d had many years to get used to it.
Although they were cordial to Terry, Liam’s parents and sister didn’t connect with him as well as the people on Ydoril had, nor did he feel at ease in their company. They seemed somewhat in awe of him, and attempts at communication were a bit awkward. “They’re not used to strangers,” Liam explained, “not even those from well-established Federation societies; and they’re not as telepathic as the others you’ve met—Service members are selected for psi-giftedness, among other things. You’ll need to adjust to being viewed as an outsider.”
This proved to be the case on the other planets they visited. In the large cities where visitors from other worlds were common, he attracted little notice, though a few people went out of their way to be friendly. In less cosmopolitan areas he and Liam were stared at. Everywhere they were treated with courtesy; that was a basic rule of Federation society. But it was generally formal courtesy rather than hospitality.
Only once was their reception really cold. While admiring the architecture of the towering cathedrals on a low-gravity world obviously steeped in tradition, they were pointedly avoided by passers-by, almost as if they were suspected of carrying some plague. Terry’s skin crawled; his telepathic sensitivity told him that they were not welcome here, regardless of the outward tolerance its inhabitants had displayed. Was there some unusual distaste for their physical features? he wondered. Since Liam looked Earthborn, they appeared to be of the same species. Perhaps these people hadn’t seen anyone like them before.
They haven’t, Liam told him silently. What’s more, they notice the Service insignia on my jacket. Most know that means you’re new among us, and the reaction spreads.
Later, Liam explained, “Not everyone in the Federation agrees with Service policy. Some believe we shouldn’t admit species that haven’t outgrown the barbarisms that still exist on worlds at the level of those we bring in.”
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