"I bid you a hearty welcome," Gephelos said and gestured to the tables. "Please sit down."
Mepha Hatan and Levian Paronn sat at a table, Deshan and Mira at the one next to it. Gephalos turned and went to the long, semi-circular desk at the front. There the other six Solidarity Tamans of the Great Solidarity waited, three of them women. They were all considerably younger than he was, and in contrast to him they wore their official garb: robes as white as the marble from which the desk was made. Each robe was decorated with Merit symbols and the badges of the forty-nine Solidarity Communities.
When Gephalos had taken a seat, another Taman stood up. "I greet you," he said, taking in with his gaze the two men at the first table. "As I see, Levian Paronn has insisted on bringing along a Chronicler, and he in turn has brought along his life partner." He shook his head in a manner to suggest a not very subtle sign of disapproval. "I would have preferred a more private setting."
"Deshan Apian is not here to report to the media of the Solidarity," Paronn responded. "He is working on my chronicle."
"How conceited of you."
"And the First has expressly allowed his presence," Paronn added.
"Yes, I have," Gephelos confirmed. "And we would be better off foregoing personal matters, Second. This matter is too important for that."
The standing Solidarity Taman nodded. "Very well." He took a deep breath. "We should indeed forego personal matters. And it is for that very reason that I consider it necessary to transfer leadership of Impetus to someone else. Levian Paronn is utilizing that portion of the Spaceflight Solidarity for his own personal goals! His collaboration with the Project Exodus of the Star Seekers has grown ever closer over the years."
The Second sat down and Gephelos looked questioningly at Mepha Hatan. The Director of the Spaceflight Solidarity was about to stand up, but the First Solidarity Taman indicated for him to remain seated. "Age has certain privileges," he said, and smiled faintly.
"For ten years, we have had a continuously occupied Moon base," Hatan began. "This year, we have flown the first manned spaceships to the planets nearest the sun, Asalluc and Lahamu. The Spaceflight Solidarity has made enormous progress over the decades, and Levian Paronn deserves a major share of the credit. His Merits ... "
The Second stood up abruptly and interrupted Mepha Hatan. "No one wishes to diminish Levian Paronn's Merits. But neither can we close our eyes to the fact that he uses a large share of the Spaceflight Solidarity's resources for things that have nothing to do with our development program. He is increasingly involving Impetus with Project Exodus, which intends to produce spaceships to take humanity to distant worlds. To the stars! And it is allegedly to ensure our survival."
"An honorable goal," Gephalos interjected quietly.
The Second pointed to the Zephalon vidscreen in front of the Solidarity Tamans. "Analysis of the organization's data clearly shows that the Spaceflight Solidarity would have had even greater success and could have achieved more if the resources placed at the disposal of Impetus had been employed exclusively and entirely for the planned projects in the official program. But Paronn has used a large portion of those resources for his own purposes. This borders on embezzlement."
The eyes of all the Solidarity Tamans were on Levian Paronn as Darhan Gephelos softly asked, "What does the accused have to say to that?"
Paronn stood up. Listening intently, Deshan watched him.
"As leader of Impetus, I had and have broad discretionary powers as far as the use of resources and the work on projects within the organization are concerned."
"Within the framework of the general developmental program!" the Second put in.
Paronn nodded without losing his composure. "I have made use of all resources according to my best judgment and my conscience."
"According to your discretion," the Second exclaimed, growing more excited. "And that is outrageous. You are violating the principle of soliditarian community. The good of all is the first priority. You, however, are giving preference to your own ambitions."
"And that is precisely my purpose—the good of us all."
"And that is why you disregard the guidelines of the Great Solidarity?" another Solidarity Taman asked, making it plain how the mood in the Coordinating Council stood. Only old Gephalos seemed to be favorable to Paronn.
"I make decisions that must be made," Paronn said with the calmness of a man who has nothing at all to fear.
Mira leaned over to Deshan. "That isn't an effective defense," she whispered. "Why doesn't he plead his case with better arguments? He is usually such a good speaker."
"I don't know," Deshan replied in an equally low voice. Paronn's behavior astonished him, too.
"And as to which decisions must be made, you decide that, too, am I correct?" the Second asked with unmistakable derision. He pointed to the vidscreen on the desk in front of his seat. "Over seventy percent of the resources of Impetus—that's twenty-seven percent of the total resource potential of the Spaceflight Solidarity—has a direct or indirect connection with the Star Seekers' absurd Project Exodus."
"Project Exodus is not absurd," Levian Paronn said.
Deshan saw Darhan Gephelos lower his eyes and shake his head expressively.
"Do you perhaps consider it reasonable to invest enormous amounts of time, work, and economic means in something that avowedly will benefit only a tiny portion of the Solidarity community, namely those individuals who, at some point, will set out for the stars? What a waste! It is planned, developed, and built, and nothing of it increases the prosperity of the Great Solidarity. Nothing of it eases the life of the people for whom we are responsible."
Paronn cleared his throat. "You are making the mistake of not looking beyond Lemuria and Lemur. This is not about increasing the economic strength of the Great Solidarity so that all people in the Solidarity Community can lead an easier, more comfortable life. This is about the survival of the entire human race."
"Are you now espousing the theories of that so-called Herald?" the Second demanded sharply. "Do you also believe in that nonsense of some evil beings in outer space who are out to get us?"
"I believe that humanity must spread out to other worlds if we wish to survive as a species."
"I suggest that we put aside the emotional aspects of this discussion and concentrate ourselves on the rational ones," said the Fifth. She was bald and in her eyes shone cool shrewdness. "We have detailed economic reports for the last two decades before us, and in my view the conclusions that can be drawn from them are quite evident. With his decisions, Levian Paronn, Director of Impetus, has far overstepped the bounds of the discretionary freedom allowed to him. We must correct our economic course and take measures to prevent such ... deviations from happening again. With that I move we take a vote."
Paronn was still standing, straight and stiff, silent and unmoving. He seemed to be simply waiting, which did not match his dynamic nature at all,
"Paronn, Mepha ... " Gephalos sighed, and it sounded not only tired but sorrowful. "Please wait outside with your companions while we confer."
Paronn bowed, helped Mepha Hatan stand up, and left the hall with him, followed by Deshan, Mira, and the secretaries. Behind them, the large, heavy bronze doors closed.
Out on the semi-enclosed veranda, the air was hot and heavy, and for several seconds Deshan yearned for Torhad. Then he glanced at Paronn, who was beginning a low-voiced discussion with Mepha, and he was astonished once more.
"That is not what a loser looks like," Mira said, fanning herself with a flat mobile Zephalon.
"But he has lost," Deshan replied. "There's no doubt about it."
"Who knows?"
They did not have to wait long. After just a few minutes, Darhan Gephelos came out of the hall and his face clearly showed that he did not bring good news with him. Deshan and Mira moved closer as the First Solidarity Taman of the Coordinating Council stood in front of Paronn and Mepha Hatan.
"I am sorry, Levian," Gephelos said.
"The result of the vote was six to one. You have been removed from your position as Director of Impetus effective immediately. Your authority in all areas concerned has been hereby annulled."
Paronn merely nodded.
"You were much more convincing in the Merit House of Marroar thirty-five years ago. Why didn't you defend your decisions better?"
"I needed more time then," Paronn said. "It had to come to this sooner or later. I just chose the proper moment."
"What do you mean by that?" Gephelos asked in surprise.
"Watch the media reports this evening, then you'll understand." He turned to Deshan and Mira. "I will now proceed to the Media Center of Pataah. I am expected there. You can accompany me if you wish."
"We'll come with you," Deshan said and Mira nodded.
As Levian Paronn stepped into the spotlight in the middle of the studio, Deshan immediately noticed the difference. His face was smooth. The wrinkles that had increasingly been evident over the preceding years no longer existed.
"He looks like he did back then," Mira said lowly. They sat in the background, to the side of the technicians who were moving cables, checking connections, and monitoring instrument displays.
"Perhaps he's been made up for this presentation," Deshan suggested, but doubted it himself.
"He looks exactly like he did in the picture taken in the year 4502," Mira emphasized. "Even though almost forty years have gone by since then."
Paronn and the program host—a man in middle age with thinning hair and a cunning gleam in his eyes—sat down at a semi-circular table while the cameras were rolled into position. Finally one of the technicians gave a signal.
A well-practiced smile appeared on the host's face. "Today we have as our guest Levian Paronn, who is no stranger to our audience." A technician waved and the host's radiant smile disappeared. On a nearby monitor, Deshan saw scenes of Marroar's spaceflight center, Levian Paronn making personal appearances, and the space stations. A voiceover commented on the images and recounted the Spaceflight Solidarity's successes.
The technician waved again and the host's smile reappeared. "Levian Paronn would like to make an important announcement to us."
Paronn appeared in close-up on the screens and Deshan wondered how many viewers asked themselves why the Director of Impetus suddenly looked no older than forty.
"For forty years, I have dedicated my entire effort to the space program of the Great Solidarity," Paronn began, calm and dignified. "In these four decades we have achieved great successes, as you all know. But our strivings have led to a conflict within the Spaceflight Solidarity, for there are different opinions as to which direction the program should take from now on. Now, for forty years we have also heard a voice among us that has warned of hostile beings that will one day come and could bring us more chaos and horror than the Konos. During that time, that voice has won many supporters, and a new Solidarity community has arisen within the old one. They do not wish to be separated, but instead seek to ensure our survival. So that they can reach their goal, the masks must be removed here and now. The hour of truth is upon us."
Levian Paronn stood up and Deshan noticed that the host was no longer smiling. His face showed vague apprehension.
"Please excuse me for a few seconds. I must summon someone." Paronn left his seat at the table and disappeared through a door that led to the rooms adjacent to the studio, among them a small dressing room.
Deshan and Mira exchanged astonished looks.
The host at the table gave the impression of someone sitting on a chair that was growing hotter.
Someone came through the door and entered the studio. Not Levian Paronn but ...
... a figure in black, its face hidden behind a ceremonial mask. The Herald.
"This is the Hour of Truth," a distorted voice announced and repeated Paronn's words. "The masks must be removed here and now."
The Herald of the Star Seekers raised his hands and took the mask off. What appeared underneath made Deshan gasp in amazement.
Levian Paronn's face.
"That's impossible." The Chronicler stood up and stepped forward, into the spotlight. A camera turned towards him. "I saw the true face of the Herald many years ago."
Paronn smiled. "Do you mean this?" He pulled something from a pocket inside his cloak, leaned over, put his hands to his head ...
Several seconds passed as his hands moved back and forth, adjusted something, and smoothed it flat.
When the man in black straightened up again, his face was pale with a scarred left cheek. He touched something under his chain and the features relaxed. Then he pulled the thin membrane from his real face, that of Levian Paronn.
"Look at me. During the last forty years, I have not aged. There is a good reason for that." Paronn took a deep breath. "I am immortal. I am the returned Twelfth Hero Vehráato. I have come to save the children of Lemur."
24
Denetree
Denetree walked through a dark world in which only an occasional light shone. Dense shadows predominated in this part of the base, which seemed to be older than the sections higher up, and apparently little still functioned here. Illumination strips glowed at intervals in the long corridors, creating oases of light in which Denetree frequently paused. All her attempts to make com contact with Sharita, Solina, and the others failed. The fear that up to now had lain in waiting deep within her came out of hiding and spread. Denetree tried to keep it under control, but the more time that went by, the more often she wondered what would become of her if she did not find her way back to the others.
How stupid of her to insist on taking part in this mission! She was well aware of the reason why: she had wanted a diversion so she would not have to think about Venron, her dead brother. But now death threatened her as well.
In the distance she saw the pale light of an illumination strip and walked faster to escape from the darkness. Soon she reached a room with several consoles. On only one of them were the controls lit. The light of the strips on the ceiling reached to a large window in the opposite wall. Denetree approached it, looked into the darkness on the other side of the glass, and tried to make out something in it. A large hall extended beyond the window. The young Lemurian saw the outlines of two sphere-shaped spacecraft that resembled the one Sharita had identified as a Halutian ship. One had been half disassembled, while only a framework still existed of the other.
A shrieking echoed through the darkness, a demonic howling, and Denetree gave a violent start, ducking out of reflex behind one of the consoles. Worried, she looked up at the illumination strips just as they went out and Denetree found herself lost in darkness again.
She waited and tried not to give in to the fear that tore ever stronger at her thoughts and feelings. It was not the first time she had heard that shrieking, and this time, too, the light returned after a few seconds. The illumination strips in the ceiling began to glow again, along with the controls on the one console.
And then came the whispering.
Denetree understood the words that resembled Lemurian and her Translator unit interpreted the others.
"Life is precious and must be preserved," a voice whispered.
"The Enemy is here!" muttered the second voice, which sounded more determined and more severe. "It is my responsibility to destroy him!"
Denetree stood up, and as she was trying to determine where the voices were coming from, she heard something else: a muffled humming and buzzing that gradually grew louder. Whatever was causing those noises, it was coming closer.
"You are sick."
"Parts of me are missing and it hurts."
"Don't kill, don't kill ... "
"The first priority of the programming: the Enemy must be destroyed!"
"Life, so precious ... "
"First priority ... "
"You are sick."
"I am no longer complete. I am ... damaged. Certain subcomponents ... no longer function."
"Often I remember the swarm, of
flying. It was so nice to simply go along with the flow and feel the nearness of the others."
"I ... hurt."
"I yearn to return to the others. Why did you absorb me?"
"Um ... to be whole again?"
"I will never go back to the gray room. I have heard and seen. I have grown ... "
Denetree listened to the humming and buzzing, and realized that something was approaching that had more substance than the two voices. Three corridors led into this room with the large window on one side, and something was moving in the entranceway on the left. A multi-segmented robot with red-glowing optical sensors and numerous clawed arms lurched on four bent legs out of the shadows. It paused as it reached the light of the illumination strips. The uppermost section revolved several times, then the mechanical being turned towards the console behind which Denetree crouched.
The young woman waited tensely in the hope that the robot had not discovered her and would move in a different direction before reaching the console. Perhaps it was a maintenance unit that was supposed to make repairs. But as the distance shrank to less than two meters, fear exploded within her and she acted without consciously thinking.
Denetree leaped up, turned towards the right, sprinted across the room, reached the darkness of the corridor, and then ran as fast as she could. A pale finger of light—an energy beam—probed for her but missed.
And then her legs carried her through pitch-black darkness.
She did not know how long she ran, through a world of shadows and occasional faint light, often accompanied by whispering voices. She chose branching corridors at random, went up and down ramps and once climbed a long stairway. Frequently she encountered vertical shafts but did not dare trust herself to the antigrav fields within them—if the shrieking started again and then a power outage followed, the result could be a fatal plunge.
At some point she found herself facing a monster again.
Exodus to the Stars Page 14