Exodus to the Stars

by Andreas Brandhorst

  It was what the Terrans called a "Halutian"—one of the Keeper's people!

  Denetree thought of Icho Tolot, who was now somewhere above her, his ship seized by the station's teleporter field and himself probably held prisoner. This Halutian was dead, lying among the debris of a completely devastated laboratory. Several illumination strips glowed in the ceiling, but the light flickered, sometimes rapidly and sometimes slowly, giving the impression of shadows flitting here and there. Denetree had seen destruction like this once before, in the base under the ice on Mentack Nutai.

  The Halutian lay like a black mound directly in front of a deep dent in the steel wall. It had apparently struck the wall just before its death. It was impossible to tell what had killed the Halutian or when it had died—as the hardening of its cell structure had prevented decomposition.

  Glass splinters from shattered windows and tiny metal fragments from smashed instrument cabinets crunched under Denetree's boots as she approached the body. She touched it as cautiously as though it might wake up. The corpse was as hard as steel.

  Denetree envisioned how, more than 50,000 years before, her people had waged a desperate war against these beings who had nearly succeeded in exterminating the Lemurians. For her they were stories from a past that did not directly concern her, told by Perry Rhodan and the others. Up to now she had met only one Keeper being, and to it she owed her life. That experience determined her perspective, not the descriptions of a war that had no meaning for her. She did not feel anything like hatred for the former enemies of her people.

  The voices still whispered, but now they were coming from distant loudspeakers, and Denetree could not understand individual words. She turned away from the dead Halutian, walked slowly through the laboratory, and wondered what had happened here ... how long ago? Years, decades, or even centuries? Who or what had killed the Halutian?

  A humming caught her attention and for several seconds she was afraid that she was about to have another confrontation with a robot. But then she saw more light further ahead and reached a largely undamaged part of the laboratory complex, where blocks of still powered machinery stood. The humming came from two large, transparent tank-like containers that were filled with a greenish liquid. In the first tank Denetree saw bones and as she came closer, she made out a skeleton that could have only been that of a Halutian. The second tank contained long, fibrous forms, and the young Lemurian realized what they were only when she glanced at a display on the nearby instrument console.

  Halutian tissue. Denetree could understand some of the words flitting across the vidscreens, but not others. Apparently the second tank contained a nutrient fluid in which Halutian tissue grew. And "Vulnerability" had been the subject of the research that had taken place here.

  Denetree considered, her thoughts accompanied by unease and concern. The ancient Akonians had held Keeper beings here and examined them, apparently with the aim of finding weak points in the four-armed creatures. Was there a connection with the terrible war of more than 50,000 years before? Had the base served for developing weapons against the Halutians?

  Denetree went past the tanks and approached a door with strange symbols on it that were unfamiliar to her. She hesitated briefly in front of the door because some of the symbols reminded her of Lemurian warning signs. She looked around. There did not seem to be any other way out, and she was reluctant to go back in the direction from which she had come.

  She reached out her hand to the sensor field, and as she touched it, the door slid to one side.

  Waiting for her behind it was a small room that ended at an opaque blue energy curtain. The two side walls did not offer any control fields.

  Denetree stepped closer to the blue wavering and curiously stretched her hand out to it ...

  "No, that stupid I'm not," she murmured. She took a small sensor rod from the belt of her spacesuit and pointed it towards the energy field.

  There was a crackling and the blue energy barrier dissolved.

  "Attention," announced a voice that sounded completely different from the whispering and muttering. "Malfunction. Attention, malfunction. Destabilization of stasis field."

  Denetree stepped forward and saw a second laboratory, as large as the first and for the most part undamaged. Here the devastation was limited to a small section immediately in front of the young woman.

  And there, caught in a stasis field, stood a Halutian, frozen like a statue in an attempt to smash a console. Two of the four arms were raised, the large six-fingered hands balled into fists, and the mouth was open in a silent roar.

  The stasis field flickered like the light of the defective illumination strips, and the colossus within it, three and a half meters tall ... began to move.

  The force field expanded, shrank, flickered one last time—and went out.

  The Halutian's raised fists crashed down on the console, and a deafening howl echoed through the large laboratory, accompanied by the crack of the splintering control panel. The dark giant leaped forward, swung its four arms, and destroyed everything that came within reach: tables with strange instruments on them, display stations, glass-fronted tool cases, and other equipment and furnishings. The Halutian began to run, picking up speed and leaving a trail of devastation behind it. After running a few dozen meters, it struck the rear wall of the laboratory with a loud impact, whirled around, and took off running once more, this time in the opposite direction. Towards Denetree.

  The young Lemurian ducked back to the door through which she had come, but it did not open.

  "Security alarm," announced a nearby voice. "Security alarm ... "

  The words were lost in the Halutian's roar as it stormed towards her in the full fury of its destructive urge.

  Denetree stood with her back to the door that remained closed even though she had touched the sensor field next to it several times. The Halutian sped towards her, a galloping colossus, and she hunkered down and closed her eyes, certain this was the end.

  But no fists hammered down on her. Suddenly there was silence, and for two or three absurd seconds, Denetree wondered if she had died without noticing it.

  Then she heard a rumbling voice that the Translator unit interpreted at once: "You must be a Terran."

  Something touched Denetree on the arm, and she risked opening her eyes. An absolutely gigantic black hand was stroking her legs with surprising gentleness. The Keeper being, the Halutian, stood directly in front of her, a dark mountain, and in his three large eyes destructive fury no longer burned.

  "Tolotos told me of you," the Halutian said. "He had just been in contact with the Solar Imperium."

  Denetree understood the words, but not their meaning. Except for ...

  "Tolotos? Do you mean Icho Tolot?"

  "Yes. I am Torg Kaltem, and I stumbled on this base while I was searching for him. When I found the dead Halutian ... " The giant growled and briefly balled his fists.

  Denetree was still trying to adjust to the fact that she was facing a second living Keeper and speaking to him, to a being that on board the ark NETHACK ACHTON she had considered divine. Suddenly she saw the chance to gain a powerful ally and with his help return to Solina and the others.

  "Icho Tolot is here, in this base."

  "Where?" Torg Kaltem exclaimed. "I have a message for him."

  "Somewhere above us," Denetree replied. "We're in the lower levels of the base." She told him of the group that she belonged to, about the teleporter fields, and of her headlong flight.

  "Let us start at once."

  Denetree stepped aside. "I came from there. But the door won't open now."

  "That is not a problem," Torg Kaltem said, and gave the door a kick that tore it out of the wall and sent it flying.

  "Security alarm," announced the recorded voice again. "Elimination of the test subject required."

  An opening appeared in the ceiling, and something dropped down through it. Neither Denetree nor Torg Kaltem could react in time—a yellow burst of energy shot
towards them and struck them both.

  Denetree was expecting the worst but to her utter amazement felt only a brief tingling, nothing more. On the Halutian, the yellow energy had a completely different effect. Torg Kaltem gurgled, tipped to one side, and fell over. He twitched several times, tried to get up, managed halfway, reached for a piece of debris lying nearby, and threw it with all his remaining strength. With the force of a cannonball, it struck the beam projector extending down from the ceiling and smashed it.

  Breathing heavily, Torg Kaltem got to his feet again. "We ... must hurry," he gasped and staggered through the wrecked laboratory, the presumed Terran at his side. "It was a weapon especially designed for use against Halutians. I ... must find Tolotos. Before I ... die."

  25

  Deshan Apian

  Lemuria, 4552 dT (51,848 B.C.)

  Even the wind was silent at the Curate's final resting place. Mira's hand in his, Deshan Apian looked down at the grave in which the former First Curate had lain for many years.

  "How short life really is," he said softly.

  "Are you afraid of death?" Mira asked.

  "I fear and hate the weaknesses and infirmities of age more than the end." With the walking stick in his other hand, he pointed to one of the benches on the edge of the cemetery.

  They walked slowly past the graves in the shade of the trees, and as they sat down, the wind picked up again and sighed in the treetops.

  To the right, some distance away, rose the gray granite of the Bastion of Tuamar. Down in the valley, sunlight glittered on the turquoise-colored lake, and on the southern shore the temple-like buildings of the Center of Memorial Contemplation were a familiar sight.

  Deshan stretched his legs and tried to ignore the pain in his back. "Often I feel terribly old."

  "You're only seventy-five." Mira smiled and in that smile Deshan saw once more the young woman he had fallen in love with long ago. It spoke of a feminine elegance in which age played no part.

  "And that means I'm still a young man, right?" He pointed with his stick to the Valley of Silence. "Many things do not change, and for that I am grateful."

  They said nothing for a while, listening to the soft voice of the wind.

  Deshan looked at the Bastion. "We spoke of our future there fifty years ago," he said lowly. "Do you remember?"

  Mira smiled again. "You asked me how many children we would have."

  "Ten, I said."

  "At least, I answered."

  Memories whispered within them both, lovingly cherished.

  "We had eleven," Mira added. "And we now have eighteen grandchildren and two great-grandchildren."

  "A large House," Deshan said. That was one of the reasons why he had retreated for a few weeks into the Valley of Silence: to put his recordings in order in the peace of the Center of Memorial Contemplation, and to work on Levian Paronn's chronicle.

  "How are you getting along with it?" Mira asked.

  Deshan did not answer immediately. "You were right."

  "About what?"

  "About the split in the community. That the history of Lemur would change forever. Paronn must have known then that such an eventuality could not be avoided. That is why he really did take the mask off in the most literal sense, and arrange for the split to happen at a point where he could control developments. I presume he was working on exactly that during the preceding decades. As the Herald he founded the Star Seekers' movement and attracted an ever growing number of supporters to it. And as Levian Paronn he supported Project Exodus with a portion of Impetus's resource potential. Due to his influence, practically a new Lemurian community has arisen within the old one." Deshan hesitated briefly. "There have been two attacks on Paronn in the last few months."

  Mira looked at him in surprise. "You haven't told me anything about that."

  "Because this matter has been kept a complete secret, both from the Star Seekers as well as from the Great Solidarity's Coordinating Council. For many centuries there have been no assassinations. It shows how great the change in Lemurian society has become. Envy, resentment, things that really have no place in our Solidarian community ... They're putting down roots again and growing. Each side believes the other is taking something away from it."

  Deshan looked down at the valley with the turquoise lake, and continued looking at it as he spoke. "As for your question, I'm making good progress with the chronicle. A great deal of material has accumulated that has to be arranged and commented on. The peace and quiet here help me. But after just two days, I started to miss you and the others."

  Mira rested her hand on his arm. "Your grandchildren and great-grandchildren miss their grandpa and great-grandpa. They say you tell the best stories."

  "I am a Chronicler," Deshan said, not without pride. "Tomorrow I have to break off the work. I have to go up again." He pointed to the sky.

  "With Paronn?"

  "Yes. We're using the new Astrolift. Paronn wants to present the next phase of Project Exodus. It promises to be a major media event."

  "Deshan ... "

  "Yes?"

  "How can someone be immortal?"

  "I don't know. But that he very obviously is. He's not getting older, anyway. Perhaps that's what's behind the attacks: envy of his immortality. Or someone wants to prove that he really is mortal."

  "Could he really be the returned Twelfth Hero? Do you think it's possible, Deshan?"

  "More than a million Lemurians firmly believe it and are working entirely or partly for Project Exodus, among them many Meritworthy."

  "What do you think?"

  "I don't know what I should think, Mira. But when someone is immortal, some things indicate that this is not a normal human being."

  "I only mean ... If he really is Vehraáto ... Perhaps there really is a menace that threatens us all from the stars."

  Deshan sighed, more softly than the wind in the treetops. Then he stood up, supported himself on his walking stick, and grimaced as pain again shot through his back. "What do you mean, 'young man'?"

  Side by side, they walked past the Curates' cemetery and followed the course of the path to the old Bastion. There, Deshan stopped in the shadows. "If it's all right with you, Mira ... I'd like to stay here for a bit and meditate."

  She gave him a fleeting kiss on the lips. "We'll meet again in Marroar, after you come back from up there." She waved once more, then turned and walked along the path that led further down towards the parking lot for private vehicles. Deshan watched her go. In recent years, Mira had grown a little heavier, and her once long, black hair was now short and gray. But she was still Mira, the woman with whom he had shared his life, and every single moment they had spent together filled him with deep contentment.

  He closed his eyes, breathed in the aura of Tuamar, and contemplated the past and the future as befit a Chronicler.

  The Astrolift was the latest achievement of Project Exodus: a bundle of thousands of microfibers that reached from a platform in the ocean to a station in a geosynchronous orbit 36,000 kilometers above Lemur. It was also available for use by the Great Solidarity, not only as a gesture of good will but as the result of continued collaboration between the Star Seekers and Impetus—even if the cooperation was no longer on the same level as when Levian Paronn was leading Impetus. It was a purely logical decision: in the view of the Solidarity Tamans, too many resources had been invested in the collaboration with Exodus to simply cease economic relations. Gephelos especially had urged continued, if limited, collaboration until his death a few years before.

  More than twenty people sat in the spacious cabin of the passenger module that was being drawn up into space on the Astrolift's cable. Although they had not put on their helmets, all wore pressure suits for safety reasons. Most of them were Chroniclers reporting for the media of their Communities.

  Paronn pointed proudly out the broad windows. "The Astrolift will lead to a drastic reduction in the cost of transporting cargo into orbit," he said. "As a result, future space
stations will be considerably cheaper."

  "Is it true that the Spaceflight Solidarity has already made use of the Astrolift to transport components for the spaceships in orbit that will be setting out for the outer planets this year?" asked a young female Chronicler. She looked at Paronn respectfully and almost reverently.

  "Yes. The elevator will also simplify the next phase of Project Exodus significantly. I will explain everything to you when we reach the top. In the meantime, enjoy the view."

  The transport module glided upwards at a speed of about 100 kilometers per hour, and it was not long before the first wisps of clouds fell beneath them. The great continent of Lemuria stretched out below the elevator, with Marroar on the coast and other cities farther inland. Along with all the others, Deshan looked out the window. He thought he could make out airplanes far below the module—they looked like tiny silver insects.

  Two people, Deshan noticed, remained in the background the entire time and gave the impression of being occupied with something or other. Paronn's bodyguards. The two attacks had made security measures absolutely necessary.

  At length the sky was no longer blue but black, and Lemur no longer flat but a globe whose details remained stationary under the Astrolift. Anchored in a synchronous orbit, the lift rotated with the planet at a relative lateral velocity of zero.

  After three hours of travel, at an altitude of about 300 kilometers, the passenger module paused at one of the anchor points. They were now in space, just above Lemur's atmosphere, and Deshan found it strange that he was not completely weightless—he merely felt a little lighter than usual.

  Levian Paronn gave his Chronicler an explanation for it. "We are not weightless because our present speed isn't anywhere close to the escape velocity of the planet beneath us," he said and stepped to the controls next to the panoramic window. "The higher the Astrolift takes us, the lighter we become. Complete weightlessness awaits us only at the Astrolift's last stop at an altitude of about 36,000 kilometers. The satellites and spaceships out there are much faster than we are. Take a look." He pointed out the window and operated a switch on the control panel.