To Fear The Light

by Ben Bova

  “Airships.” Her voice was an awed whisper.

  They were identical. Long and cylindrical, they tapered to a rounded point on both front and back. There seemed to be lines or ribbing in the material that covered them, running lengthwise. An open basket of a woven material was suspended below each of the fliers, attached to the main cylinders by thin spars that were either constructed from some rigid material or flexible lines stretched taut. The baskets, like the cylinders above them, were roughly oval in shape and must have been quite roomy, as the four natives inside them seemed to have more room to move around than might have been expected. But Gareth had to remind himself that the flatscreen view was not to his own perspective, that the natives were smaller than human normal by many centimeters.

  They were basically humanoid in appearance, more so even than the Sarpan, and early observation indicated that they were as mammalian as humans themselves. Even in the flatscreen view Gareth could make out the wide-spaced, expressive eyes; the tiny ears set well back on the sides of their heads; the small, bridgeless noses. The rich, tawny coloring of the light fur on their faces and exposed forearms indicated that all but one were males in early adulthood. The fourth, who seemed to be in charge, was an older male with fur of silver-brown. As he watched, he saw that the older one was showing the others various techniques of handling the clumsy craft. With a nod, one of the younger fliers took the control lines as the others stood back, causing Gareth to wonder if they were watching a training flight. The four wore clothing of a woven fabric that was very similar in both coloration and style, and it occurred to Gareth that they had a uniform look about them, perhaps indicating that the airship’s function was military or law-enforcement in nature. He made a mental note to compare his thoughts with Hannah and the others later.

  In the flatscreen view the markings were clear. A bold red stripe, tapered at the front and broadening gradually as it approached the rear, ran the length of each cylinder just below the widest portion. There were darker markings that could have been lettering or numbers on the thickest part of the red stripe at the very tail. As the two airships swung farther to the southwest, the view from the second-team camera showed a full side view, and as he studied the image more closely he noticed what looked like vanes standing out above and below the craft, giving it a general fishlike shape.

  “Hannah, they’re incredible,” he breathed, his eyes fixed on the flatscreen.

  “Shhhhhhh. Listen.”

  He looked up and, seeing that she was looking away from them and not at the screen, followed her gaze. While there was little danger of their being spotted from above under the cover of the trees lining the edge of the ridge on which they stood, he became immediately concerned that the two airships were heading in their general direction. He was about to say something to the others when he heard it: a dull, thrumming sound.

  “Everyone keep still,” he admonished. “Keep the cameras on them as best you can, but don’t take any chance that you’ll be seen. Understood? Stay here under the trees.”

  The thrumming grew louder as they watched, and in a few moments the two airships passed as close to them as they would come. Gareth watched as they floated majestically by, still a half kilometer away. They rose steadily in altitude and crossed behind their position, disappearing, and headed out over the woods. The sound lingered a full minute; then quiet returned to the forest. There was some restless murmuring among the others in the party, but that, too, died away as Gareth spoke into the collar pickup.

  “Ah, second team, can you still see them from your position?”

  “No, sir.” The voice was shaking, uncertain. “They’ve disappeared over your location.”

  “Pack it in, then. Control, we’re heading back, too. Keep recording from above.” He pulled the headset off and let it hang around his neck. “Let’s go.”

  The equipment was quickly dismantled and repacked, and the party started into the woods the way it had come. As before, Gareth brought up the rear and kept an eye out for Hannah, who stayed behind after them to make certain no evidence of humans remained that might be found by the natives. Satisfied by her inspections, she trotted silently up behind him a few minutes later.

  They had walked in silence for a long time when finally she touched his jacket sleeve and whispered, “Gareth, I must speak with you.”

  He slowed his pace and allowed the distance between them and the others to lengthen a bit. The terrain was fairly easy here, the path wider, and the two could walk side by side, although whether she had timed it this way or not he could only guess.

  “I think I know what you’re going to ask,” he offered when the others had hiked just out of earshot. He transferred his pack to his left shoulder and faced her as he walked. “You want to ask again what my report will say.”

  She smiled at how well he had read her intentions, but remained quiet.

  “Very well.” He sighed deeply. “I will tell them we’ve found a growing civilization here. That they are intelligent. They have commerce. Their transportation has developed to a degree we had not expected when we found them a week ago. They have steam power produced by gas-fired boilers. They forge and use metals. And they have a highly developed technology.”

  There was a sudden rustling in the leaves to one side of the trail and a small animal, startled at their passing, ran noisily to the nearest tree, where it climbed quickly to safety. Gareth watched the animal as it disappeared into the branches above them.

  Still staring above him at the blue sky appearing through the boughs, he sighed again, softly this time.

  “And they have a highly developed technology,” he repeated worriedly. “And they can fly.”

  “Lord Jephthah will not like that,” she responded. “He will use this discovery to further his campaign of hatred.”

  He stopped.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  10

  RIHANA

  Overtly, Rihana Valtane’s ship was little more than a yachtclass vessel, albeit an enormous one—the kind possessed only by the very rich. It could, in fact, easily be identified by anyone interested enough or curious enough to check an official ship registry as one of several such vessels belonging to House Valtane.

  Externally, the ship resembled—by design—the many others belonging to her House. This vessel, however, was her personal yacht, its simple and utilitarian exterior belying the luxurious appointments to be found inside.

  Rihana stood before a huge circular expanse of rayshielded plastiglass that made up nearly one entire wall of her plush office, staring at the vessel approaching from aft. The viewpoint was genuine—a true window, not a holographic port—and gave a normal view of space whenever the opaque security shield was off. The window was surrounded by a holoframe, and she could have ordered an enhanced view of the nearing ship, but she preferred, for now, a natural view. At its present distance and bearing she could not quite make out the markings on the craft now closing on hers, although Poser had already informed her that it was the Chodha. As she watched, the small craft disappeared below the bulk of her yacht on its heading to the aft docking bay in the lower level.

  She continued to stare out the viewport, even after the shuttle had passed out of sight, although she no longer looked at the magnificent panorama of space spread before her. Her eyes, focused now on her own reflection in the plastiglass, weren’t even aware of the stars.

  Rihana stared instead at a woman she almost refused to acknowledge as being herself. By any standards, anywhere in the Hundred Worlds, she would be regarded as a beautiful woman. Her hair, long and full as it tumbled over one shoulder, still glowed a fiery copper. The priceless sapphire clip pulling her hair back on one side perfectly matched her deeply penetrating eyes. She had taken care of herself physically, and her body—alluring, clad in a clinging gown of the finest silk—retained a figure that could yet turn many an appreciative head. Her face still displayed the classic features that more than a few men had admired.

 
; I should be grateful, she thought, turning her own image first one way then the other in the mirrorlike glass. There are countless women for whom this reflection would be a dream come true. To one side of her own reflection she could see her personal aide, Poser, standing silently at the door. The small man stood with a slouching, inattentive posture, and even in the limited image of the reflection she could see that every hair on his head was slicked back in place in the only concession the man was ever likely to make to popular fashion. She smiled, imagining that the man was watching her, desiring her, although she promptly found the thought of her faithful servant of many years longing for her—in any way other than a source of extremely well paid employment—personally repugnant.

  But the years that had passed in her life were reflected here now as well. She had enjoyed many rejuvenations over the centuries, but the treatments were becoming less effective no matter how much money she spent on them. She was still beautiful, but to her the reflection began to carry with it a word she dreaded: “matronly.”

  I wonder what the famous Adela de Montgarde looks like now? Rihana smiled distastefully, knowing that the Montgarde woman—enjoying the luxury of cryosleep these last two centuries—most likely looked no different than she had at their last meeting on Luna. Damn her! Unlike rejuvenation, with its limited ability to temporarily turn back time, cryosleep could truly cheat it.

  Adela de Montgarde had managed to cheat it, and in so doing had managed to cheat Rihana Valtane of something more precious than the years themselves.

  “Poser!” she demanded, turning away from the reflection so abruptly that the hapless man—until now paying little attention to her at all—nearly jumped. “Opaque this viewport!”

  A disingenuous, subservient smile spread across Poser’s mousy face and he tilted his head slightly, causing Rihana to laugh inwardly. All the image lacked was a set of curiously twitching whiskers to make the comparison to a rodent complete. The window’s holoframe circuitry jumped to life, obediently hiding the outside view and replacing it with an enhanced image of a painting, a computer-perfect holographic copy of one of the many original artworks in House Valtane’s collection of antiquities. The work Poser had selected was da Vinci’s Lady with an Ermine, one of her favorites, and he had picked it no doubt in the hope that it might calm her.

  “Has the shuttle been berthed yet?” Rihana didn’t condescend to glance in his direction as she took one of the large leather-bound chairs in a seating group placed to one side of the office, away from the ornate desk that lent the only air of business to the plush, comfortable room.

  Had Rihana bothered to look his way, she might have noticed a nearly imperceptible faraway look fall over the man’s eyes as his integrator checked the yacht’s computer logs. “Yes, Mistress. The Chodha has docked and has been berthed. I’ve taken the liberty of having one of the docking personnel direct Mr. Rapson to the guest level. Let me see …” He paused, his plastic smile not wavering. “Yes, he is on his way there even now. I’ll have refreshments sent—”

  “Don’t bother.” She turned to glare at him accusingly. “I want to meet with him immediately, in this room. He can refresh himself later, on his own time.” She rose and approached the desk, leaning against it and crossing her arms as she regarded him. His smile faded as her eyes bored into him. The look on his face pleased her, and she was glad the man still held a healthy awe for her power and position, even after several hundred years. “In the future, Poser,” she offered with mock casualness, “please do not take it upon yourself to do anything—anything, do you hear me?—on your own initiative as it regards our dear Mr. Rapson.” She smiled almost sweetly, showing that she, too, was at least as adept at ingenuousness as he. “Do I make myself clear, Poser?”

  He began a sputtering response, but she waved it away, effectively dismissing him, and returned to the seating group. She remained on her feet, however, as she added, “When you have word that he’s on his way, I want you to go meet him yourself and accompany him here.”

  Poser nodded curtly, and almost immediately turned for the door.

  “Oh, Poser … ?” The man stopped in his tracks. “How do I look?”

  He hesitated a moment, his beady eyes narrowing imperceptibly as he warily tried to determine what game, if any, she might be playing now. Apparently deciding the question was genuine, he relaxed somewhat and accepted the query at face value.

  “You look as attractive as always, Mistress.” He nodded again, then said, “If you’ll permit me, I’ll fetch Mr. Rapson.”

  Only a few minutes passed before there was a soft knock at the door. Rihana took more than a small amount of pleasure in the thought that Poser must have dragged their visitor, kicking and screaming, at a full gallop down the yacht’s corridors to have arrived back at her office suite so quickly. The efficiency pleased her and she made a mental note to scold the man more frequently.

  “It’s good to see you again,” Rihana said sweetly to her guest when he entered. “May I offer you some refreshment?”

  Rapson was a young man, or at least looked it. Either he was truly very young—in which case, Rihana mused each time she saw him, he should be easy to manipulate—or he had had only a few rejuvenations. Tall, with deeply tanned skin, he gave the image of a rugged outdoorsman. His suit was immaculately tailored, and yet it failed to entirely hide the strength in his well-muscled frame. His dark hair was cropped short and brushed back in a style currently fashionable on Earth. He accepted her offered hand, bowing his head respectfully.

  “No, thank you,” he replied in a deep, measured voice. There was more than a hint of sarcasm behind his words. “I’d much rather learn what it is that you’re so anxious to see me about that just couldn’t wait until I’d had a chance to change and freshen up after my trip.”

  “Good. I was hoping you’d feel that way. Poser, that will be all for now. Will you see to it that a guest suite is prepared for Mr. Rapson? I’m sure he must be exhausted from his journey.”

  The aide nodded and, a look of relief spreading involuntarily across his features, scurried hastily from the room.

  “Let’s do without any more of the phony pleasantries, shall we?” she said bluntly once they were alone. “We were not supposed to meet until next week. What is so important you took the risk of coming all the way out here now?”

  “It’s so good to see you, too.” He ran a fingertip gently across her cheek, and fondled one of the sapphire earrings she wore. Cupping his strong hands behind her neck, he pulled her to him as he leaned down and kissed her.

  It had been many weeks since she had last been with him, and Rihana felt an unbidden longing stir within her, but she forced the feeling aside. For someone so accustomed to manipulating others, she was not about to let him control her in this way. At least, not until whatever business they had was concluded and she was ready to “allow” him to manipulate her at her leisure. Reluctantly, she pushed him away at arm’s length.

  “I thought you didn’t want any refreshment,” she said, hoping that her mocking tone would hide her desire. “System!” She paced to the far wall, reaching it just as a darkly burnished oaken panel slid aside to reveal a small. but well-stocked bar. She tumbled several ice cubes into a glass and poured herself a drink, then took a seat behind the desk. “If you’ve changed your mind,” she said, gesturing with the glass toward the bar, “help yourself to something other than me. Now, I’ll ask again: What’s so important that you could not stick to the very schedule that you set up?”

  Rapson said nothing as he went to the bar and selected a bottle of wine, then uncorked it. “Other refreshments we’ll save for later, then.” He poured two glasses and, taking both in one hand, the bottle in the other, he sat in the single chair facing the desk. “Get rid of that,” he said, placing the bottle and one of the glasses in front of him as he handed the other glass to her. “It’s too early in the day for anything but a good wine.” She thought for a moment, then set her original drink aside and acce
pted the offered glass. Rapson smiled, genuinely this time, and took a long sip from his own glass.

  “This is the reason I requested meeting you out here, instead of waiting for your arrival next week.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a data stick, tossing it on the desk. The stick rolled on the desktop until finally slowing and coming to rest in front of her on the pocket clip at one end. “You can examine the contents if you want, but suffice it to say that things have started happening at the sunstation on Mercury a bit sooner than I’d expected.”

  “What—?” She had raised the glass to drink but paused now, the glass mere centimeters from her lips. “What’s happening there, and just how does it affect us?”

  “It’s all right, I think. It alters the timetable somewhat, but shouldn’t really force us to change any plans.” Rapson settled back in his chair and poured himself a second glass of wine. If he was disturbed by the turn of events, he didn’t show it. Or perhaps he had already had enough time to digest this worrisome bit of information and adjust to the changes it would dictate. “Some of the personnel there who are sympathetic to our, ah, ‘needs’—one of the Academy scientists and, I think, a couple of the Imperial guards—got a little out of hand and started something they couldn’t finish, although I’m not sure why. Adela de Montgarde was there until a few weeks ago, however; maybe it was her presence at the station that set things off. In any event, once things turned sour Rice apparently decided to wake the alien up sooner than we expected.”

  “I see.” Rihana reflected on the news. “It makes sense, I suppose. If he had any thoughts of getting out of there after it all started, he and anyone loyal to him stood a better chance if the thing was moving around under its own power than if it was still lying frozen in a cryosleep tank. Still …” Taking her glass with her, she rose from the desk and walked slowly, deliberately around the room as she spoke. “What kind of help does he have?”