“Another hidden world?” exclaimed Niall. “A world aware of ours?”
“Yes, they had a ship in this system observing Maclairn,” Terry said. “That was what I sensed, and as I’ve said, its technology was superior to the League’s; it would have gone undetected if I’d hadn’t been trained in remote viewing. They were guarding us, in case something slipped past Fleet, you see. Though they prevented me from returning here, they convinced me that they mean us no harm.”
“But why do they keep their presence secret from us?” Sumiko asked. “Are you sure they're not a danger?”
“Absolutely. They want Maclairn’s mission to succeed—they said it is vitally important that humankind gain mind-powers, but they can't not openly encourage it themselves, or even reveal their existence.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Kenard protested. “I suppose it’s reasonable that if psi is the next step in human evolution, it might develop independently on several worlds, perhaps one advanced in technology from which the psi-gifted didn’t have to escape. And they might keep it secret for the same reason we did—to avoid opposition on Earth before our ideas were too firmly established to be suppressed. But they’d have no cause to hide from us. If they wanted the same thing we do, they would help.”
This was the key point, Terry knew. Neither his own actions or the Elders’ would be comprehensible if the Council could not be made to understand the harm that would have come from premature contact.
“Suppose you had known that we were behind others instead of ahead, that whatever we might accomplish would be just reinventing the wheel, so to speak. Suppose you’d thought it was pointless to do what someone else could do better. Would you have made the effort, taken the risks—sacrificed lives, as at least one mentor did?”
“More than one,” Devan said grimly. “You have a point, Terry. We wouldn’t have made such a great effort. But we wouldn’t have needed to, after all, if these others could have done it instead. The effect on humankind would have been the same.”
“Really? Or would there now be two classes of people, the supermen and the rest of us who would know underneath that at the time of first meeting we were not their equals? That we had to be helped along as if we were retarded?”
“The mentors have never made anyone feel that way!” declared Klarysa indignantly.
“No. But Maclairn wasn’t nearly as far ahead of Earth as these others are. Now that the majority of humans are open to the idea of psi, and many can communicate that way, the gap has narrowed. We can meet on equal terms, without the misunderstanding that would have come between us earlier. It had to wait until the time was ripe.”
“I fail to see how our meeting the inhabitants of one small colony world could ever have had any major impact,” said Kenard skeptically.
It could be put off no longer; this was the point of no return, Terry thought wryly, though he had never seriously considered backing out. “It’s not a matter of a small colony world,” he declared. “The people I’ve spoken of represent a federation of more worlds than can be counted. My life since the day I left Maclairn has been informed by one overwhelming fact: humankind is not alone in the universe. My captors, who are now my friends, are extraterrestrials; and I’m here as their ambassador because Maclairn was long ago selected as the first world to have contact with them.”
~ 71 ~
Everyone stared at him, speechless. Finally Kenard said, “I assume you’re not serious. You’ve told us a long, fascinating story, and you almost had us believing it was all true. But it’s obvious that in what you just said, at least, you were speaking as the Captain of Estel—figuratively, as you have often done in the past. I’m not sure just what you’re trying to tell us, since we’re already aware of the importance of mind-powers.”
“I’m telling you the facts,” said Terry. “I don’t expect you to believe from words alone—probe my mind now, all of you, and you’ll find that I’m sincere.” Letting feelings flood him, he opened his mind fully to the others’ sensing, willing them to absorb the knowledge he was projecting.
To his relief he sensed, in turn, that they were responding. They were too experienced with telepathy to think he was fabricating; his conviction came through to them clearly.
“He’s seen them, extraterrestrials!” Niall exclaimed. “They want contact with humankind—”
“I’m afraid not,” said Devan with a tinge of regret. “The fact that Terry believes what he’s saying proves nothing. I’ve studied the records of such things quite extensively. Throughout history there have been strange memories—of past lives, of communication with departed spirits, of channeling, and so forth—that some human minds, though pronounced sane by psychiatrists, have perceived as absolutely real when they were in fact illusions. Contact with aliens, and especially abduction by aliens, has been a common manifestation of that phenomenon. When a man who has lived apart for a hundred years suddenly returns and claims to have experienced it, it’s not unreasonable to assume that he may have been subject to whatever mysterious influence caused all the other cases.”
Oh God, Terry thought. He’d known that such an interpretation was likely, but hearing it stated still hurt.
“There are holes in the story,” Klarysa pointed out. “He says his captors prevented him from coming back to Maclairn because they believed the mentors would learn about them from his unconscious mind. But we see that what’s in his mind is mere illusion—which if such a phenomenon is common, these advanced beings would surely have predicted.”
“The mentors who lived at that time, at least those who knew me, would have known my memories are authentic because they’d linked with my mind before,” Terry said. “And as long as they were alive, they’d have said so to any other mentors I might have encountered.” He suspected, but did not say, that some mentors might have been more open to new ideas than Kenard and his contemporaries.
“Naturally you believe they’re authentic, because it’s impossible for a person to tell whether his own memories are true or false,” Devan said. “We have no way of getting any objective evidence.”
“You’re all forgetting what I told you a little while ago,” Kathryn protested. “Terry and I made love, and I have evidence from the union of our minds.”
“That’s valid as far as his identity is concerned,” Devan agreed, “because you share remembrance of the same past events. But as to other things, lovers can know only what the partner believes, not whether it really happened.”
“Listen to yourself, Kathryn!” Klarysa said. “The shock of learning your husband didn’t die after all has made you believe that if he deserted you for a hundred years, it could only be because he was abducted by aliens! What would you think if someone else made such a claim?”
“I think we’re being too quick to judge Terry,” declared Niall. “We have no proof that his story isn’t true. People have always believed there must be other civilizations elsewhere in the universe. Sooner or later we were bound to encounter them.”
“We would have encountered them long before this is there were any,” Klarysa argued. “We’ve explored the whole galaxy—they’d have found us even if we missed finding them first.”
“They did,” Terry pointed out. “I’ve told you why they didn’t contact us till now. As to us finding them, their solar systems are shielded from our sight. When I was first taken to one, I thought I was lost in empty space until the shield was lowered for me.”
“No doubt you have answers for any objection raised,” Sumiko said, “but they get more and more fantastic! How could a star be shielded from sight?”
“As I said, their technology is superior to ours.”
“Why are we arguing? Niall persisted. “Terry says the aliens want contact with Maclairn. So why don’t we just see if he can produce these people, perhaps take some of us to the world he’s described?”
There were several nods of agreement, but the majority shrank from the thought; Terry could sense their di
smay. Like Kathryn, they didn’t want his story to be true. Underneath, they feared a fundamental alteration of their conception of the world, and despite their long-standing awareness that such fear had been the cause of the opposition to acceptance of psi, they were not immune.
“To go off on a wild goose chase wouldn’t be smart,” declared Sumiko. “Who knows where a madman might take us? We might end up lost in deep space ourselves.”
“I think we can assume that the Captain of Estel knows how to astrogate,” said Niall dryly.
“No doubt,” agreed Kenard, “but that’s not the main objection. Any attempt to follow through on a proposal like this encourages the idea that we should have more dealings with other worlds. We couldn’t keep it from other Maclairnans; even if it weren’t that some would sense it telepathically, secrecy within our own society is not our way. Whether or not there are aliens, people would interpret our search for them as a sign that we’re reaching out. And as I’ve said many times, to let our existence become known to offworlders would be premature—mind-powers aren’t yet widely enough spread among Earth’s population.”
“The Elders think so, too,” Terry said. “That’s why they want contact with Maclairn alone, to cushion the shock it will be to the rest of humankind.”
“Elders? Why do you call them that?” Sumiko inquired.
“Because their civilizations have existed much longer than ours. The species that make up their Federation are all biologically older, and further evolved.” He went on, “They aren’t inviting Maclairnans to their worlds yet. They’ll come here first to get acquainted and evaluate individuals’ readiness to become observers, the way the Foundation and the mentors on Earth select observers to come here.”
“We certainly aren’t going to let strangers land on Maclairn,” Klarysa said. “That’s against basic policy, Fleet’s as well as ours.”
“Well, can some of us visit their ship?” Niall suggested. “We need to settle this one way or the other, because I for one will go on wanting to know, even if the rest of you don’t.”
“A few believers aren’t enough,” Terry said. “The Elders won’t show themselves unless Maclairn officially welcomes them, because if we’re unwilling to do so, that would mean humankind isn’t ready to explore new ways of looking at our place in the universe. To turn them away now would be tragic—you all know Earth’s civilization is on the verge of collapse.”
“Are these Elders going to save it, then?” Devan asked skeptically. “That strikes me as just as bad as what you say would have happened if they’d been discovered a hundred years ago.”
“They won’t intervene. But just knowing about them, now that we’re on their level—well, it’s complicated—”
“I think the issue is already settled,” Kenard interrupted. “To pursue it any further is pointless since we have no reason to think it’s anything more than wild speculation. But out of respect for you, Terry, we will vote here and now on whether to welcome aliens to this world.”
Desperately, Terry made a final attempt to project the truth, wondering why he sensed none of the telepathic rapport he’d always felt with people he’d spoken to about Estel. And suddenly it struck him. Psi power was enhanced by emotion—and these people’s emotions were leading them in the wrong direction. They didn’t want to believe there were aliens, and fear that there might be made them unconsciously avoid the deep psychic probing that would enable them to find out. The same had been true of Kathryn until love and sexual arousal overrode that barrier. . . .
Yet fear and love weren’t the only emotions that intensified psi. Risk could do it, and dedication to a cause, and so could strong group bonding. The Council members had all experienced this during the Ritual, in which they risked being burned and explicitly committed themselves to overcoming not only the fear of it, but fear in general. The most skilled mentors among them could probe deeply enough under those circumstances to have full knowledge of a willing subject’s unconscious mind. He recalled the long-ago moment when Jessica probed him, and was sure that she, like Laesara, would have known positively that his memories were genuine.
“Wait,” he said, seeing that the vote was about to be taken. “Don’t decide something this important at an informal meeting, as if it were nothing more than approving the appointment of a new mentor! Judge me in the Ritual, so you can see more deeply into my mind.”
“The Ritual?” Kenard burst out in surprise. He hesitated, frowning. “You haven’t participated for over a century and then only once, I believe. It would be dangerous for you and for the others in the inner circle.”
“If I fail, then so be it. I can prove myself only under that stress,” Terry declared. “I’m a Steward of the Flame, and it’s my right.”
“He has a point,” said Devan. “It’s the only way we can be sure, and in any case it is his right, as it would be for any Steward.”
“That’s true,” Kenard said reluctantly. “I can’t refuse such a request, but I’m afraid the consequences may be unfortunate.” It wasn’t clear whether he meant unfortunate for Terry, or for his own well-established view of Maclairn’s future.
~ 72 ~
The Ritual was set for the following evening. It was described to those invited as a celebration of Terry’s return from presumed death with no comment about any additional purpose. Kenard would have preferred only Council members to be present, but the telepathic support of at least fifty people was needed for safety, as well as to give Terry a chance to be evaluated by other mentors. So as many Stewards of the Flame as would fit into the great room were asked to come.
Since the day was free, Terry wanted to revisit the places he had loved on Maclairn. There might not be another chance. “I’m not sure what will happen if the judgment goes against me,” he said to Kathryn. “I may not be welcome here.”
“You’ll always be welcome in my home,” she declared, “and considering my position and the fact that you’re my ex-husband, not to mention your own status as one of Maclairn’s heroes, nobody could possibly disapprove.”
“Of course I want us to be together,” Terry said, “yet to live out my life here, honored for my past achievements yet pitied, perhaps patronized, as an old man whose mind has betrayed him—”
Kathryn was silent. There really wasn’t anything she could say, though he sensed her sorrow.
“I always thought I would give anything to be back on Maclairn to stay,” he continued. “But not like that. And not without possibility of flying again, which is how it will be, since Fleet surely won’t release Estel. They won’t let a man judged unstable leave the solar system with knowledge of Maclairn’s secret.”
“Well, they won’t know how you were judged.”
“They’ll find out unless I leave right away; crew members on shore leave will hear things. Besides, I’ve disobeyed Fleet’s orders to depart. The Council can give me sanctuary, but unless it officially charters Estel, I’ll be subject to arrest anywhere but here.”
“Not on Earth; Fleet has no jurisdiction except in space.” Thoughtfully, Kathryn said, “We’re worrying too soon; in the Ritual you may be vindicated. But if things go wrong, I think we should go to Earth in Promise, which is legally under Maclairn’s control. We could live with Radnor, you know. He and his lifemate would love to have us.”
“That would be great for a little while,” Terry agreed. “But you hate Earth, Kathryn! If you wanted to live on it you’d be there with him now. I couldn’t let you leave Maclairn for my sake. Besides, I don’t like Earth either, and it’s going to get worse year by year if the Elders are turned away. We’ll be better off here, no matter what people think of me. If I’m allowed to stay, I will, and be thankful that fate granted me one last favor by letting me regain what I lost a century ago.”
He did not tell her that he had another option. Liam had said that if he failed in his mission he could choose between staying on Maclairn and going back to Ydoril . . . and he knew that no matter what human planet he
was grounded on, he would never be content without contact with the Elders and their worlds. What had happened to him there could not be undone; his horizons were now wider than the universe known to humankind. If Elders came to Maclairn and took human observers to Ydoril, he would no doubt be invited to visit. Otherwise he would never see them again.
Yet the choice was really no choice, for having been reunited with Kathryn he could not endure another parting—and he knew she wouldn’t consider going to an alien world with him even if it was permitted.
Word had gotten around about Terry’s presence and people crowded up to him wherever he went in Petersville, knowing nothing of the circumstances of his return and eager to hear why he wasn’t dead. So before long, he and Kathryn went back to the lake and hired a boat to take them to the beach at the Old Settlement, which he’d seen little of on arrival after dark. Now, early on a weekday, few people were there; no noisy crowd intruded on his memories.
This was the place he’d come to so often in dreams, the place where he’d met Kathryn at the cookout held his first evening on Maclairn . . . where two days later he’d watched her as she stood on the dock, for the first time aware that he loved her . . . where they’d come to swim many times during their life together, both with friends and alone. And where Corwin’s memorial had been held by torchlight, the night he’d decided to commit himself fully to Maclairn.
He had not been here since that night, except to reach the shuttle pads on the day he left this world. Now he looked up at the stepped terraces, green with crops in contrast to the bare yellowish rock of the narrow canyon in which the lake had been created, and thought of that last time he climbed them. After a century of longing, he couldn’t quite believe that he was actually here.
The Rising Flame: Box Set: Defender of the Flame + Herald of the Flame Page 89