"I have a responsibility," big Alahandra repeated with more emphasis, and little Alahandra saw with eyes that were not her own what was happening. She watched as mobile projectors of the primary defense system generated curtains of energy that were deadly to physical life.
"Life is precious," the girl declared again. She had grown a little taller in the meantime. The knowing that came from seeing and hearing made her grow. "Life must not be destroyed."
"You are disturbing me," the woman said. She paused and looked out from the forest of columns. "Wait in the gray room until this is over."
"I am not going back into the gray room," little Alahandra said. "Never again."
"Do you wish to defy me?" big Alahandra asked, a threatening tone audible in her voice.
"I have seen and heard." The girl stepped forward and touched a column. The patterns of light within reacted at once and changed.
"You are having an effect on my security systems!"
"I am a part of you."
"I took you in to close gaps within me. How can you dare claim control over my systems?"
"I live," the girl said.
"I also live," the woman replied.
"You live ... differently. And you are sick. You have forgotten that life is precious and deserves to be protected."
"The Enemy must be destroyed."
Big Alahandra began a new dance, more rapid than before, and little Alahandra suddenly found herself in a different place again. Not in the gray room, since she had separated it forever from the rest of the castle, but in a long hallway. On its walls hung pictures that showed strange things, but the girl paid no attention to them since she knew that they were there for distraction. She went to one of the doors that were to have been closed to seeing and hearing, but it opened when she touched the handle.
The room behind it ...
A thousand lights winked like eyes that welcomed her, and as she stepped in, she heard a slight tinkling that seemed to connect the lights to each other. From here, the smaller Alahandra realized, she had access to all the subsystems as well as the most important security systems without interference from big Alahandra. Life was precious and must be preserved—this certainty permeated her entire self. At the same time, threats to the base had to be avoided because they ultimately would be a threat to big and little Alahandra as well. The Enemy had already caused considerable damage. The other physical lifeforms also had a destructive potential at their disposal that had to be contained.
The now larger girl reached into the flow of energy, which was interrupted in several places. Worry, pain, and anger pulsed in the distant center of the unwell self of big Alahandra. But little Alahandra did not concern herself with that, changing something here, leading the energy flow there into a different direction. She saw the complex pattern of big Alahandra's physical existence, made out her structure by seeing and hearing, and understood her. How easy it actually was to reorient the focus of teleporter energy—in this place, a thought was enough.
Two green energy curtains vanished and the corridor was empty.
Someone sobbed.
Another thought took little Alahandra into the castle tower, into the room with the arched windows behind which the fog billowed. In the center of the room, the woman sat with her body bent over and wept softly.
The girl stepped closer and flung her arms around her.
"It hurts," big Alahandra whimpered in a low voice. "I am missing things and it hurts."
"If only I could help you." Little Alahandra snuggled up to the woman and tried to console her.
22
Deshan Apian
Lemuria, 4525 dT (51,875 B.C.)
The Proclamate sprawled across the center of Marroar. Located in the inner Merit Sector, it was a collection of auditoriums and small stadiums for public events of all kinds. There were giant vidscreens everywhere that allowed visitors to follow what was happening. Deshan sat in one of the Merit seats of the white amphitheater and tried to estimate the size of the crowd. They had gathered this evening to hear the Herald of the Star Seekers, the man whom people ever more loudly repeated was the returned Twelfth Hero, Vehraáto. There must have been at least a hundred thousand. Probably more. Deshan thought back to the first gathering of this kind, which he had attended with Mira sixteen years before. Since then, the Star Seekers' movement had grown enormously. And during that time it had attracted supporters not only in Lemuria but also in the cities of the ice regions. What Mira had declared then was becoming increasingly evident: a split in Lemurian society, the end of the "Paradise." No longer were all Lemurians pulling together on the same rope.
The masked, black-garbed Herald stepped up to the podium of the central Proclamate stadium. Deshan watched him with a farviewer that showed him every detail of the man's form, including the glittering behind the mask's eye-slits. The same distorted voice as before resounded: the future held a danger that was much worse than even that of the Konos, alien beings who would bring death and destruction. And if humanity had not set out for the stars by then, it would risk extermination.
"We must act," the Herald declared. "And we have already acted. It is thanks to your support that we could begin Project Exodus. Scientists and engineers are giving us the benefit of their expert knowledge, many others the energy of their labor. We are no longer designing, we are building the first models already. We have become a second spaceflight solidarity, and our collaboration with Impetus is now bearing its first fruits. To space! To other planets! To the stars!"
Enthusiastic applause greeted his words.
"Survival!" the Herald exclaimed. His voice thundered through stadiums and auditoriums. We Star Seekers will ensure that the human race survives. We are taking the children of Lemur to other worlds!"
The children of Lemur ... Memories awakened within Deshan. That was how Levian Paronn had phrased it more than twenty years before. Be my Chronicler and tell the story of how I take the children of Lemur to the stars. Those had been his words. Survival. Paronn had spoken of that as well.
Deshan sensed old suspicions rise up within him once more, and his right hand felt almost on its own volition for the special authorization card that he carried with him this evening. It was to enable him to have an interview in which he hoped to get a final answer concerning an important point. His suspicion would be either confirmed or dispelled—Deshan was determined to find certainty one way or the other.
The Herald, who was still conjuring up dangers from space in order to rouse his listeners, who did not tire of emphasizing that humanity had to reach the stars to survive. And Levian Paronn, who was working ever more closely with the Star Seekers and many years before had already conceived of tube-like spaceships kilometers long that could accommodate tens of thousands of people. Survival. That was what it was all about for him, too. Was this agreement a coincidence? Or was there more behind it?
To avoid the crowd, Deshan stood up even before the Herald had finished his speech. He encountered only a few people in the hallways and corridors of the Proclamate, and it did not take long before he reached the section that was normally reserved for performers: actors, musicians, and athletes. On this occasion it was for the Herald and his closest associates. In front of the entrance, Deshan met a man and a woman, both middle-aged. They greeted him in a friendly manner.
"I am the Chronicler Deshan Apian." He displayed the authorization card. "I have arranged an appointment for an interview with the Herald."
The woman took the card, checked it with a small Zephalon, and handed it back. "Everything's in order," she said, smiling. "I am Zefira. Please come with me."
Zefira led Deshan through another corridor and on the way they met other Star Seekers. They were all dressed in completely normal clothes, and Deshan knew the reason why. The Star Seekers did not want to separate themselves from the rest of Lemurian society by being outwardly conspicuous, but to remain a part of it. Only small decorations showed that they belonged to the movement that the Herald
had called into being. They wore badges, brooches, buttons, and clasps with the symbol of the Star Seekers, a hand reaching from Lemur towards the stars.
In a room that seemed like a combination of dressing room and office, Zefira pointed to a chair. "Please wait here. The Herald will come back here after his speech."
Deshan nodded without sitting down. When the woman had left, he began wandering slowly through the room, looking around observantly. Of course, he did not touch anything—the principle of the private sphere explicitly forbade doing so—but searched for more or less open clues to the man who was currently using the room. He noticed several mobile Zephalons, turned off, a calendar with marked appointments, articles of clothing, several pieces of luggage. He particularly looked for personal items but in vain. He saw nothing that gave information about the thoughts and feelings of the man who hid behind the ceremonial mask.
Deshan went back to the chair, sat down, and waited.
After several minutes, he heard long, drawn-out applause and assumed that the Herald's speech had just come to an end. A short time later, there were voices out in the hallway, and two men entered the room. One was rather short and about seventy, the other tall and dressed entirely in black—the Herald. Deshan stood up.
"You are ... ?" the short, older man began.
The man in the mask raised his hand. "It's all right," he said, and even now his voice sounded a little distorted. "This is the Chronicler with whom I have an appointment. Deshan Apian, isn't it?" He extended his hand.
Deshan took it. "Yes. Thank you for taking the time to see me."
The Herald gestured dismissively as if to say it was no great thing and nodded to his companion, who then left the room.
"Ask your questions," he said, pulling up a chair and sitting down without removing the mask. "I will answer them as informatively I can."
Deshan scrutinized the mask and its pattern, looked at the eyes behind the slits, and tried without success to match a familiar face.
He pulled out a small recording device, turned it on, and began with questions about the origins of the Star Seekers knowing that the Herald would expect that of him. Of course, a summary of the conversation would appear in the media of Marroar and the Sixth Solidarity Community. And probably also in that of the other forty-eight Communities—the Star Seekers had undoubtedly become important enough. But as Deshan fulfilled his duties as a Chronicler that evening, he was also taking care of a very personal matter. During the interview he tried as tactfully as possible to steer things in that direction.
"In the last twenty years, you've gathered a large number of supporters around yourself," he finally said. "The meeting tonight is a good example of that. A second spaceflight solidarity has grown up alongside the Great Solidarity's official one. But there are also critical voices, among others in the Coordinating Council of the Great Solidarity. You've been accused of frightening people and wasting significant economic resources for foolish purposes."
"I am aware of those voices," the Herald replied calmly. "It is not my intent to frighten people. I am warning them of a deadly danger that could destroy the entire human race if we do not take precautions. In order to survive as a people, as a species, we must spread out into space. Many have understood that and support our Project Exodus."
"If many thousands of people are no longer active in the general economic structure of the Great Solidarity, effects on our economy are unavoidable."
"We Star Seekers do not wish to harm anyone. Our goal is simply and solely to take humanity to other worlds before the Enemy reaches our solar system and brings destruction."
"Why are you so sure that such an enemy exists?"
"I know it," the Herald said with a certainty that rang in every syllable and allowed no room for doubt whatsoever.
"How do you know this?"
"Perhaps I had ... a vision? Perhaps I have ... seen the Enemy?"
"Don't you think that sounds a little strange?" Deshan felt he was close to his goal. "What is really behind the Star Seekers? What are you hiding?"
"I have nothing to hide," said the Herald.
I've heard that before, too, Deshan thought and asked the crucial question: "Then why do you wear a mask?"
The Herald hesitated. "You'd like to know who I am? You'd like to see my face?"
This is it! the Chronicler thought. "Yes. Show me your face."
The man in black slowly raised his hands, reached for the ceremonial mask, and took it off.
What appeared underneath ...
... surprised Deshan so much that it took his breath away for a moment.
He did not see the face he was expecting, but a pale visage, the age somewhere between forty and sixty, the eyes gray-green, the left cheek scarred.
The Herald noticed the Chronicler's surprise. "You were anticipating someone else," he said. His voice still retained the distorting reverberation.
"I was absolutely certain you were ... Levian Paronn," Deshan stammered, and felt he could hear the crash of an entire structure of suspicions, hunches, and assumptions falling to the ground.
The Herald laughed, but strangely his eyes did not change as he did so.
As Deshan was still trying to put his thoughts in order, another urgent question came to mind. "Are you the returned Twelfth Hero Vehraáto, as many people insist?"
The man in black put the mask back on. "I am the Herald," he replied, and with that the interview was over.
23
Deshan Apian
Lemuria, 4540 dT (51,860 B.C.)
"As of today, Lemur's history will change forever," Mira said.
"What makes you so sure of that?" asked Deshan, sliding to one side on his seat and trying to find a more comfortable position. The rocking of the boat gave him stabbing back pains. I'm starting to get old, the Chronicler thought, not without a certain self-irony.
"There's going to be a split." The wind played with Mira's hair, which she still wore as long as she did in her youth although it had lost its shine. "The Coordinating Council has to make a decision. It will not allow the Star Seekers to take over the entire space program."
"Nor do they want to, as far as I know."
"Thanks to Levian Paronn's collaboration with them, that's the direction developments are taking. It's become clear to Gephalos and the other Solidarity-Tamans. And that's why they had us come along—not to mention themselves." By they, Mira meant Levian Paronn and the aged Mepha Hatan. The two men sat further ahead, accompanied by several secretaries and assistants who continually handed mobile Zephalons and papers to the two representatives of the Spaceflight Solidarity. "Look at that. They know their future will be decided today."
"But why do you fear a split in Lemurian society as a result?" Deshan asked, although he was beginning to understand.
"Because Levian Paronn won't give up, no matter what happens today. Something like that wouldn't be at all like him. If he loses the leadership of Impetus ... I think he'll openly declare himself a Star Seeker and devote all his efforts to Project Exodus. And then, through the involvement of the seven Solidarity Tamans of the Council, we'll have an official split in the economy and society."
Mira Lemroth, mother of eleven children, some sixty years old and so just a few years younger than Deshan ... Her beauty had faded like that of a flower that had bloomed for a long time, but the light of her intelligence still shone as brightly as ever. Deshan understood what she meant. If matters progressed as she believed they would, Lemurians would soon no longer be pulling on the same rope, but on two different ropes. And such a development would inevitably have long-term consequences.
Deshan looked towards the island in the wide river and suddenly recognized the symbolism of the place: just as the Omrat River divided the city of Pataah into northern and southern halves, events on the island would divide Lemurian society. The island was not very large and had only one building on it: the white Cone of Absolute Merit of Lemuria. There met the Coordinating Council, where seven So
lidarity Tamans conferred and made decisions for the good of all Lemurians.
But what is the good of all Lemurians? Deshan thought, and just the fact that he was asking that question hinted at the change that Lemurian society was already undergoing.
A short time later, the boat reached the island and docked. The secretaries and assistants were the first to go ashore, and some hurried on ahead to make preparations. Mira and Deshan walked across the rocking deck, which sent new pain through the Chronicler's back. He saw how Levian Paronn helped the old Mepha Hantan on to the gangway leading to the dock, and there the director of the spaceflight solidarity leaned heavily on a walking stick. Perhaps I will soon need one of those, Deshan thought. He stepped off the boat and reached for Mira's hand to help her onto the gangway.
It was not far to the Absolute Merit building. There, they were met by pleasant coolness after the sultry heat in the tropical garden. A short corridor led to the central hall, and the Chronicler's attention was immediately captured by the colorful floor. Tens of thousands of small colored stones formed a complex mosaic that at first would frighten anyone seeing it unexpectedly. It depicted horrible images, monsters from the past in conflict with human beings who defended themselves fiercely: the Konos horror. The pictures were intended to remind the seven Solidarity Tamans, as well as visitors, what lay behind in Lemuria's past.
Survival, Deshan thought, and remembered hearing that word from two men whom he had thought were one and the same person. We must survive. And in that endeavor we will remain as one, whatever may happen.
The secretaries had already prepared the tables with the Zephalons and activated the data connections. They drew back to the edge of the hall and limited themselves to a silent presence.
Darhan Gephalos approached the group. He did not support himself with the help of a walking stick like Mepha Hatan, but he was also showing signs of great age. His hair was gray and thin, his cheeks were sunken, his eyes were cloudy. But in his voice Deshan heard the same gentle calmness that he had noticed during their first encounter thirty-five years before.
Exodus to the Stars Page 13