To Fear The Light

by Ben Bova

  “I know.” Adela nodded, smiling weakly in acceptance. “Eric tried to talk to me about them, hinted with more than a little worry at some of the things that have come to pass, but I wouldn’t let him go into them yet. I was being selfish. I’m going to make up for that.”

  Billy arched a bushy eyebrow at her. “Have you accessed any files since awakin’?” His voice was hesitant, and the look on his face indicated that he already regretted the question.

  “No,” she replied, looking sheepishly to the ground. “I’ve been putting that off, too.”

  “I see.” He dug into a pocket and pulled out a data stick, handing it to her. “When you’re ready to start reading history, be sure to look at this.”

  Adela stared at it nervously, rolling it lightly between her fingertips. She wanted to ask what was on it, but didn’t. Billy would not have given it to her if its contents were unimportant. “All right, I will,” was all she said as she slipped the stick into a blouse pocket.

  “You said a moment ago that you felt selfish,” Billy said, changing the subject. “I’ve been wondering ever since I returned if I’m bein’ selfish. I have my memories of the way things were, and somehow feel that it’s the way things should always be. But if my own people have gone beyond all of it, if they have no more use for the old tales …”

  She took his hand in hers, squeezing gently as they walked. “Maybe both our lives have been displaced in time,” she said. “Yours by distance and a duty to the people of your new world; mine by some overwhelming dream that has literally stolen the years away from me.”

  They crested the top of a shallow rise, beyond which lay the main house. The horse snorted behind her, impatient to return to its stall and the meal of fresh hay and oats it knew would be waiting. She slipped the bridle and bit from its head and, patting it gently twice on the flank, allowed the well-trained animal to return to the stable on its own.

  “I’ve chosen the life I’ve led,” she went on, slinging the bridle and reins over one shoulder. “And despite what you and Eric may think, there’s really very little I can do to change what the Empire has become. He’s right: The manner in which the Hundred Worlds has evolved is completely natural and expected. I’m surprised it wasn’t anticipated. But Billy …” She turned to him, studying the sadness that had remained in his eyes since he first spoke of the changes in his people. “There is no reason why you couldn’t be a factor in helping your people to remember the old ways. Surely there are those among the Arunta who remember and honor the legends?”

  “There are some,” he admitted, shrugging. “But they’re very few, and very old. I’m afraid they’re looked upon as feeble old men hangin’ on to the ancient habits and customs. The Dreamtime is still within them, but I’m afraid it’ll be forgotten once they’re gone. The younger leaders are all too caught up with what’s happened to bring them prosperity, more than they are to what the old ones think important.”

  They had reached the front steps to the estate, and Adela paused, taking a seat halfway up the ornate stairway. A face appeared momentarily at the curtains covering the tall, narrow windows on either side of the massive oaken doors. Adela recognized the round-faced man as Fleming, the house Master, and although he had respected her privacy by not running excitedly to greet them at their approach, she knew that even now he would be hurrying to inform Eric that she and Billy had returned.

  She set the bit and bridle beside her and continued, “But you have enjoyed the benefits of technology, and have shared in the same prosperity. You’ve been an officer in the Imperial fleet, even serving as my son’s first officer aboard the flagship he commanded before becoming Emperor. You traveled twenty light-years to help me put down a rebellion on Pallatin at the beginning of this project. When Eric ascended, you turned back to the stars, settling on a frontier world and guiding its people to a new life there. You’ve done all these things, and you still hold tightly to your heritage. Your Song Lines are still strong within you; I feel it, Billy.” She paused. “So what’s different? Why can you grow and evolve with the Empire and still be a part of your past, while it seems the Arunta have not?”

  “I dunno, really,” he said, shrugging in genuine puzzlement. “Maybe it’s because I never took the old ways so seriously that they became the guiding force in my life. Yeah, sure, the old ways were always important to me. They not only brought me closer to those I loved, but always gave me something to hang on to whenever I was in a new situation. They’re legends, I know, like the tales of the Sky Heroes; but the messages and lessons they taught were always worthy ones. They’ve always been something familiar.”

  “The ‘Sky Heroes,’” Adela mused. “You told me once that we were the Sky Heroes, come to save the Sun and preserve the Dreamtime. Do you remember?”

  “Yeah.” He chuckled nervously, guiltily. “Some of the older ones even thought I had risen to join them. Well, I’ve returned a hero, all right—but they’re lookin’ at me more like I’m some kind of ‘commercial success.’” He nearly spat the words.

  Adela reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder. He felt firm and solid beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. Despite the inevitable aging that occurs even with regular rejuvenation, the single touch told her that he was still strong and vibrant.

  “Then do something about it,” she said simply.

  6

  RUNNING AWAY

  Adela sank tiredly back into her chair, leaning her head on the cushioned backrest as she rubbed at her burning eyes.

  “System, cancel display,” she said, her voice croaking from the lateness of the hour. The image on the holoframe—in mid-playback of a lengthy report on the feeder star that would be used to “refuel” Earth’s Sun—froze briefly and faded out, leaving a soft blue glow within the frame. The gentle radiance played over the dark wood and leather furnishings of the old study Eric had given her to review the numerous files he’d amassed for her.

  “Would you like the current file restarted from the beginning?” The voice of the room system, usually soft and unobtrusive, seemed jarring and annoying after so many hours.

  “No.”

  The system on standby, Adela enjoyed the relaxing stillness. She tucked her legs up underneath her in the warm embrace of the leather-clad wing chair and, with her eyes closed, listened to the ever-present tiny sounds the centuries-old estate made in the loneliest part of the night as she let her thoughts wander.

  The Empire had changed even more than Eric had let on. The technological advances, exploration of new worlds, the extending of humanity to the farthest reaches of the stars—no wonder Eric felt that the “Empire of the Hundred Worlds” was an outdated concept.

  Her project to save Earth’s Sun, meanwhile, had proceeded apace, seemingly unaffected by the changes in the Empire other than the greater efficiency with which it progressed courtesy of the many technological breakthroughs. Indeed, when the final phase went into effect several months hence, the chances of a successful conclusion to her lifework would have increased a hundredfold.

  But the changes!

  She sat forward again and took the data stick Billy had given her from her blouse, then crossed wearily to the terminal on the antique cherry desk, slipping it into the input slot.

  “System.”

  “Ma’am?” came the reply, followed by a confirming chirp that the system was ready.

  “Please display contents of the data stick in this terminal.”

  The shade of blue changed subtlely, and an identifying logo appeared in the center of the holoframe. Comm Number: 247729-AE32. Source: Mark-89. Subject: Jephthah Address.

  “So, this is Jephthah,” Adela said softly, unaware she was speaking aloud. The name had appeared several times in the files she had already seen.

  “File is ready for playback, Ma’am.”

  “Proceed.”

  The image faded in, revealing a neatly dressed man seated casually in what appeared to be an office or study. There was a terminal on the des
k, as well as other work-related and personal items, but nothing that identified where this recording had been made.

  Jephthah was—visually, at least—about Eric’s apparent age, but from what she had learned from the earlier files she had viewed, there was little hard intelligence available on his actual birth date. The gently creased skin of his face was tanned, his dark hair sun-streaked. He had high cheekbones and an angular jaw that radiated an aura of strength and determination even as he smiled benignly into the pickup lens. His hands, well-muscled and somewhat weatherworn, were clasped on the desktop before him.

  “I won’t take up much of your time,” he began in a voice that was tempered, even, and deep-throated in a way that simultaneously commanded both trust and attention. Knowing little else about him save the vague references in the other files, Adela felt drawn to him as he spoke, felt herself wanting to hear what he had to say.

  “The danger I told you about last time,” he continued, “the threat that had been made on the frontier world Vondurmoran, has been dealt with.” The image cross-faded to a small city silhouetted against a deep orange sky, then zoomed in to one of the main structures in the center of the picture. “This is the Menke Laboratory, the main scientific center of the growing colony at Vondurmoran. As many of you already know, there has been a great deal of dispute here of late, culminating in a request for Imperial mediators to come to the planet in person, not via tachyon link, to settle a number of Sarpan claims to exploration rights of a number of uninhabitable planets in the Vondur system. However, the situation was resolved before the mediators arrived.”

  At that, the image changed again, this time displaying a tight shot of a crowd of two or three hundred people milling about the steps leading to the entrance to the facility. Natural sound at a low level played beneath the scene, and, judging from the voices she could hear and the movements of some of the individuals at the edge of the assemblage, the crowd was not a happy one. There were a number of Imperial soldiers lining the steps, keeping the crowd back on either side.

  The high glass doors of the facility opened and four Imperial guards emerged, followed by a handful of people whose clothing indicated they were local government officials. Accompanying them were five shorter figures who moved clumsily, clad in bulky E-suits: Sarpan representatives. Their bubble helmets glistening in the orange sunlight, the five huddled close together, staying as far back from the crowd as they could. The moment they came into view the level of anger in the mob escalated, and Adela could even hear individual threats and shouts of anger from them as the guards struggled to keep them back.

  Suddenly, one of the E-suited figures—apparently hit by something hurled from the crowd jerked backward, falling to the steps hard enough to crack open his helmet. The downed alien clawed frantically at his fellows and, as the crowd pushed through the guards on either side of the steps, was lifted and carried by the soldiers and others who had exited the building with them. The scene degenerated into chaos then, and the last thing Adela saw as the image faded back to Jephthah was the ineffectually small group of humans struggling to get the aliens back into the safety of the research facility.

  “The people of Vondurmoran have chosen their own direction,” he said simply, still seated at the desk with hands clasped before him. “Before Imperial intervention arrived—indeed, without even the need for Imperial intervention—the people of Vondurmoran have asserted their influence over the outsiders to the Vondur system. Within hours of the event you have just seen, every Sarpan ship at Vondur departed.” Jephthah leaned back in his chair and gazed sincerely from the image. Just the hint of a smile appeared on his face.

  “Take a lesson from those at Vondurmoran. There is no need for you, for any of us, to accept a nonhuman threat in our lives.”

  The holoframe image disappeared, and was replaced with the identifying logo again. The date of this recording showed it to be about six weeks old.

  Adela sat in stunned silence and stared at the holoframe, her eyes unblinking as it returned to its plain blue standby mode.

  A throat cleared behind her, the deep timbre telling her that Eric had come into the room sometime during the playback.

  “System,” he said delicately. “Cancel playback.”

  She felt a hand on her shoulder, and knew without looking that her son was standing beside the chair.

  “Were they all killed?” Adela was shocked to hear the trembling in her voice.

  “None of the Sarpan you just saw, as far as we know, died in the riot. The one attacked was returned to his ship in a state of shock. However, the chief administrator of the Menke Lab was killed, as was one of the Imperial guards.” Eric paused, kneeling at the side of the chair, and Adela could see that he had obviously been sleeping. His hair was mussed, and he wore only a loose-fitting robe drawn over his nightclothes. His feet were bare.

  “How much must the people of Vondurmoran hate the Sarpan?” she asked rhetorically. “How did this happen?”

  Taking the chair next to hers, Eric sighed heavily and rubbed at his face, and she could hear the scratching sound his hand made against his unshaved skin.

  “It’s not just Vondurmoran, Mother. Anti-Sarpan sentiment, although not as vehement as that you just saw, is everywhere. And this man is responsible.”

  “But how!”

  He pursed his lips and shook his head almost imperceptibly. “He’s recognized the need for unity in the Empire, and he seeks unification through fear and hatred. He’s played on the natural distrust that has always existed for the aliens, feeding it at every opportunity, using anything—or anyone—he can to make the sentiment against them grow.”

  “What are you talking about?” she demanded. “What do you mean, ‘anyone’?”

  Eric looked at Adela, his eyes meeting hers for the first time since he had entered the study.

  “He’s getting people to hate you, too.”

  What Eric told her had hurt, deeply and nearly to the depths of her soul. He had made no attempt to soften what he had to tell her, but the love behind his words made the disconcerting picture he presented seem somehow easier to take.

  But once she saw for herself …

  Adela tried to contact Billy numerous times in the busy weeks that followed, but with little success, to tell him that she now understood what it was he had left unsaid that day they had walked across the estate grounds. She spoke to him only once, shortly after he’d left Woodsgate, and he told her that he was resigning his governorship of Darson to devote himself to his people. She also found out that he was making plans to take a “walkabout.” She had read of the Aboriginal tradition, and Billy had tried once before, years earlier, to explain the deeply personal significance it held for the Aborigine, but she still had trouble grasping just how important it was to her friend. In her brief talk with him, however, two things became clear.

  First, the experience would somehow serve as a cleansing for him, removing the burden of guilt from his shoulders. It didn’t matter that nothing that had come to pass for his people had been his doing, directly or indirectly. He still felt that part of the blame was his for “allowing” his people to lose their way and their traditions. Billy felt it so strongly, in fact, that there was little she had been able to do to convince him otherwise.

  “Don’t you see?” he had asked. “I came back feelin’ that this is something I could’ve prevented. I know now that’s not true. But I’m still an outsider, even though no one here thinks of me that way; I think of me that way. It’s a necessary step for my own personal growth. Not to do it would be to deny who I am, and who I can be. It will allow me to … become ‘me’ again.” He was so excited by his upcoming journey and the effect he anticipated it would have on him that she found herself feeling differently about her own voyage. Perhaps her own trip to survey the work of the project—and, in the process, rediscover a world she barely recognized—was her own “walkabout.” For this valuable insight into herself, she was grateful to her friend.

/>   The second was more important: Billy looked happy again. Every reminder of the disturbing discussion they’d had at Woodsgate had disappeared, and in its place was a peaceful, untroubled man who stood taller and prouder than just a few weeks earlier. He still carried whatever blame he’d placed on himself for the direction his people had taken, but he seemed to have his life in perspective again. It was this very trait that had endeared the man to her so many years earlier on Pallatin, the rebellious frontier world, and had given her strength to complete the difficult mission. As the time had come near for her to enter cryosleep, she had remembered Billy’s ability to place himself and his world and surroundings into perspective, and had gone to sleep less troubled than she might have otherwise. To see that Billy had regained his greatest strength told her that he would be fine.

  And, just perhaps, if she could learn from his example, so would she reacquaint herself with humanity and learn to adjust to this new Empire. As she traveled, she kept trying to reach him, but each time she was told that he had not yet returned, and that contacting him in the outback was impossible. Each time she inquired as to when he would return she was always told cheerfully and matter-of-factly that no one ever knows when a walkabout ends.

  Billy had tried to reach her once, at her research facility on Luna about a month after her awakening, but had missed her, literally, by only a few minutes. Further attempts to contact him failed, more often than not because of the hectic itinerary Adela had imposed upon herself.

  Eric had agreed with her decision to see this new Empire for herself, but made her promise to limit her trip to two months, and she agreed to return to Woodsgate immediately afterward.

  The trip was evenly divided between “sightseeing” and official stops to check the progress of the project. As was her nature, however, with every research facility she toured, with every completed segment of the project she observed and approved, Adela grew excited again about the project, unintentionally allowing her initial concerns for the changes that had taken place—and the resentment toward the Sarpan—to fade into the background.