Exodus to the Stars

by Andreas Brandhorst

  "We will find a way," the voice finally whispered. "We ... " The other voices followed rapidly one after another. "In the world of machines, death and Uncertainties do not exist. The songs and melodies are eternal ... Not necessarily, Jorgal. What you hear and what we are now hearing as well are in a manner of speaking ... Big Alahandra is sick and we can heal her ... "

  Again there was silence for a few seconds, and then: "I must warn you. I see and hear, and therefore I know that some machines are out of my control. The mobile ones among them could turn against you."

  The platform floated through a corridor in which not all of the illuminating strips in the ceiling still glowed. Windows in the corridor walls allowed a view into large rooms that gave the impression of laboratories. A door opened, and beyond it ...

  "Denetree!" Solina Tormas jumped down from the platform and reached the young Lemurian in a few quick steps. Denetree sat by a large form lying on the floor. It rumbled lowly and occasionally twitched.

  As Roderich and the others also approached, Denetree looked up sorrowfully from the dying Halutian. "It won't be long for him now," she murmured.

  "What happened?"

  "He was hit by a yellow bolt of energy and he's been getting worse ever since."

  Solina crouched down next to Denetree and put her arm consolingly around her shoulders.

  Icho Tolot pushed carefully past the Terrans and Akonians, and the dying Halutian seemed to revive a little when he saw him.

  "Tolotos!" he exclaimed, his voice hardly louder than that of a human being.

  The second black giant went down on his arms. "Torg Kaltem? But how ... "

  One of the dying Halutian's arms moved, felt for Icho Tolot, and touched him on the shoulder. "A weapon ... A weapon was being developed here, especially for use against us ... Tolotos, I ... I've been searching for you because ... "

  Torg Kaltem's entire form shook, and Roderich saw that his body was beginning to dissolve—the process seemed like enormously accelerated decomposition. The trembling grew more violent as the Halutian's leathery skin disintegrated and decayed into dust, followed by the flesh underneath.

  With a last effort, Torg Kaltem raised his head and groaned something that Roderich only partly understood. It seemed to involve the coordinates of a star system.

  Then the Halutian gasped out his life with a last low rumble. He dissolved entirely, and only bones and clothing remained.

  "Mobile machines are approaching," whispered the helping voice, and in the silence it sounded louder than before. "I cannot control them."

  "Keep your eyes open, Yu'lli and Tru'lli," Roderich said, looking around.

  "We don't need to turn our heads to see everything," Tru'lhan retorted.

  Denetree still sat next to the skeleton and stared uncomprehendingly at the bones. "He was caught in a force field and then ... I would have gladly helped him, just as you helped me, Icho Tolot, but ... " Helplessly, she raised and lowered her shoulders.

  A Lemurian who regretted not being able to help a Halutian ... This concept demanded a comment, but Roderich realized that the situation was too serious for that and said nothing.

  "I helped you?" Tolot asked. He looked down at Denetree.

  "On Mentack Nutai," the young woman said. "In the base under the ice. Have you forgotten that?" she added in surprise.

  A beam of energy sizzled past them and bored into a machinery cabinet. Then the cabinet exploded.

  34

  Deshan Apian

  Lemuria, 4562 dT (51,838 B.C.)

  The waves of the turquoise-colored lake only gently rocked the boat, as though they knew they had to be considerate. Deshan Apian leaned his upper body a little to the side to relieve his back—neither Lemurian medicine nor the Cell Activator could do anything about the pain that constantly stabbed there.

  This was the place where seven years before he had scattered Mira's ashes, in the middle of the lake in the Valley of Silence. Another kind of pain accompanied that in his back, no longer as severe as it once was, but always present. The pain of an emptiness that could never be filled.

  Deshan looked out at the buildings of the Center of Memorial Contemplation. Not very far away rose the gray granite of the Bastion of Tuamar where he had often walked with Mira many years before. Peace reigned in this valley, and there was a certain peace within Deshan as well. Over the years he had found a new internal balance, delicate though it might often be. Perhaps it was yet another gift of the Cell Activator in addition to relative immortality and protection from illness.

  "I haven't been here for a few months, Mira, and I'm sorry," he said to the lake. "Much has happened and much is happening. Even our children are getting older. More and more grandchildren and great-grandchildren are being born. How big our House has become! You would be very proud of it." For a while he spoke of Tamaha, Milissa, Erron, and all the others in whom a part of Mira lived on, of the many grandchildren and great-grandchildren, of their youngest descendants and what they had been up to. He described the professional successes of their daughters and sons, their lives in which their mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother was no longer present. As he spoke, his words seemed to be growing ever heavier, and finally he stopped when he had the feeling he was choking on them. He was silent for a minute, trying to divert his thoughts in another direction.

  "How often I have thought lately of our conversation about changes in Lemurian society," he began once more. "Do you remember? It was when we were on our way to the Hedros Monument to hear the Herald."

  How long ago was that? Deshan raised his eyes from the turquoise water and looked out across the mountains that lined the valley. Fifty-three years, he thought. More than half a century. This year the snow was lasting longer on the peaks than usual, and he recalled the latest reports of the geographical Chroniclers. They indicated that Lemur's interglacial period was gradually coming to an end. Supposedly a new ice age was approaching and the glaciers had already begun to grow again. Deshan tried to imagine how even here everything would be buried under snow.

  "The split that you foresaw took place, Mira. And now a new one is in the offing, a political one. Since the incident with the spacesphere—do you remember?—the conflicts in the Coordinating Council have been steadily growing. The Great Solidarity is threatening to break up. The First is trying to ban the Star Seekers. The Fourth and Fifth are not only against it, but because of the incident of two years ago, they are even advocating increased support of Project Exodus."

  Deshan shook his head, looking into the water and seeing his reflection: an old man, thin and emaciated, but immortal. Beneath that image, something within him thought it could see large brown eyes and a gentle smile.

  "The First still insists that she could have made peaceful contact with the aliens in the end. Her attempts to take action against Paronn for disobeying her order not to launch have failed. As the Twelfth Hero he has too much respect as well as the support of at least two Solidarity Tamans. Oh, if only you were here to experience all this, Mira. The First is trying to accumulate more influence and power, and if she succeeds in her efforts, that will be the end of the Great Solidarity. What will happen then ... Perhaps you as a psychosociologist could give an answer to that. Much is uncertain. It's possible the Star Seekers have become even more popular since then as a result."

  Again Deshan was silent for a while, trying to put his thoughts and memories in order. "The Enemy exists. There is no longer any doubt about it, Mira. Whatever the First may say, I now know that Paronn was right. I saw what happened with my own eyes. All the rhetoric in the world can't change that. And I heard Levian Paronn speak in the aliens' own language."

  A wind blew up and the waves grew a little higher, no longer rocking the boat quite so gently. Gray clouds pushed over the mountains in the north and heralded a storm, which was unusual at this time of year.

  "He certainly doesn't know the Enemy from just visions," Deshan continued. "In any case, the first Exodus ship is setti
ng out for the stars in a week with 20,000 people on board. Just imagine, Mira. For the first time, Lemurians will be leaving the solar system! As I understand it, the AKAN HATA will head towards the center of the Galaxy. The stars are closer together there and so the probability of finding habitable worlds is greater."

  The waves were starting to show foam at their tips, and Deshan shivered as a cool wind blew across the lake. "I have to go now, Mira. Later I'll tell you about the launch of the AKAN HATA." He sighed and added in a lower voice, "I miss you so much ... "

  He let go of the rudder, started the small boat's motor, and went back to the Center of Memorial Contemplation.

  Deshan loved to stay in the Star Seekers' Moon base because the low gravity eased the burdens of age. As he sat in the Twelfth Hero's domed room, actual candles burned around him—Levian Paronn had just lit them.

  "Someone is about to get a huge surprise," Paronn said.

  "What do you have in mind?"

  Paronn walked past the candles and their flames flickered in the moving air. He stopped in the center of the not especially large room and looked up at the domed, transparent ceiling. Stars shone in the black sky, steadily and evenly, their light undisturbed by an atmosphere. After a few seconds, he lowered his eyes, turned to the nearby console, and touched a switch.

  A door opened and a woman came in. Deshan recognized her at once although two years had passed in the meantime. The woman was the gentle Amelga Dalianta. She wore her chestnut-brown hair somewhat shorter than before, but she still radiated the same calmness. When she saw the candles, an expression of surprise appeared on her face.

  "Did you summon me here for a special reason, Twelfth?"

  Since the incident with the spacesphere, many Star Seekers had begun addressing Paronn that way. Twelfth. Not the twelfth member of the Coordinating Council—there were only seven—but Twelfth Hero. Vehraáto.

  "Yes. Please come forward."

  She approached Paronn, who touched another switch. Beneath the transparent domed ceiling appeared the holographic depiction of a hand that seemed to reach outside into space and towards the stars.

  "The symbol of the Star Seekers," Paronn said solemnly. He wore a black, one-piece uniform, looking in that outfit almost like the Herald once did. "The hand that reaches for the stars. Soon it will touch them for the first time. The AKAN HATA is setting out in a week with 20,000 people on board who need someone they can look up to." He stepped forward and attached a kind of brooch to Dalianta's jacket collar. It showed not only the symbol of the Star Seekers but also a depiction of the Exodus ship. "I hereby appoint you as commander of the AKAN HATA."

  "What?" Dalianta exclaimed in incomprehension. "Me?"

  Deshan was so surprised that he did not content himself with his usual role as a passive observer—he applauded, standing up without using his walking stick. "In my view there is no better choice."

  Paronn nodded. "In the past few years, you have shown the necessary competence," he told the still astonished woman. "And during the confrontation with the spacesphere, you kept a cool head. You have all the qualifications necessary to bear the great responsibility that rests upon a ship's commander."

  "I ... " Dalianta cleared her throat. "Thank you, Twelfth. This is a great honor for me."

  "Like the other Exodus ships that will follow her in the coming years, the AKAN HATA will accelerate to nearly light-speed. The higher the speed, the more difficult it will be to detect—we have developed the fluctuations in the energy flow into an almost perfect screen. It will be difficult for the Enemy to detect you on the way to the stars, and that is as it should be. Time will pass more slowly for you on your journey. For each year aboard the AKAN HATA in its flight, a hundred years will go by on Lemur. The ship will reach its destination only after centuries have passed, millennia by Lemurian time reckoning, and during this period it will be your task to ensure the safety of the people on board."

  Dalianta's expression showed new confusion, but Deshan suspected what Paronn intended, and he felt awe. He felt like someone standing on the edge of a vast abyss and looking into the depths. In this case though, the abyss was time and its depths were measured in thousands of years.

  "You will watch as one generation follows another," Paronn continued, "as people are born on the AKAN HATA and eventually die without ever having seen a planet. And at last, when you reach the destination, you are to accompany the last generation onto a new world and help it with the building of a planetary society."

  "But ... " Dalianta searched for the right words. "I'm nearly forty years old, and if the journey takes centuries as you say ... "

  Levian Paronn produced a second object, a chain with an egg-shaped device hanging from it. He put it around Dalianta's neck.

  "As Twelfth Hero Vehraáto, I grant you immortality, Amelga Dalianta."

  The "Observatory," as the Moon base's inhabitants and visitors called it, stood on the top of a low hill. The ceiling was transparent along with a large portion of the walls, offering observers a spectacular view into space and of Suen's landscape. More than a hundred people had gathered today in the Observatory, among them of course Levian Paronn and Deshan Apian. Their attention was not on the blue-white planet Lemur hanging just above the lunar horizon, but a tube-shaped object that reflected Apsu's light in dark space: the AKAN HATA.

  A murmur ran through the crowd of watchers like a collective sigh as gray-white capture fields formed along the sides of the three and a half kilometer long ship. A few seconds later, the AKAN HATA began to move and glided slowly across the moon's inky black sky.

  "We salute Lemur and all Lemurians," the voice of Commander Amelga Dalianta announced from the loudspeaker. "We are the first and others will follow us. We are taking humanity to the stars!"

  Someone began to clap, and within a few seconds it grew to a thundering applause. The AKAN HATA accelerated, left the orbit of the Moon, and pulled away from the Lemur-Suen system. It would not be long before it had also left the Apsu system behind.

  "It has begun," Levian Paronn said loudly and proudly. "The exodus to the stars has begun."

  35

  Deshan Apian

  Lemuria, 4564 dT (51,836 B.C.)

  "Why has he invited us?" Deshan asked curiously, leaning heavily on his walking stick. The pain in his back had flared up again. "Herbon Amodt stopped all remaining cooperation with the Star Seekers a year ago. He is our declared enemy."

  Our. Deshan had long been involved. He no longer faced events as a non-participant, as a neutral observer, but identified himself as one of the Star Seekers. That had earned him the criticism of some of the other Chroniclers, but in his opinion the old principles had been qualified by developments in recent years. The conflict in Lemurian society was increasing, and forcing almost everyone to take a position one way or the other.

  Paronn looked out the window of the elevator as it glided upwards along the side of the administration tower. His view reached out over the grounds of the spaceflight center, which had long become a part of Marroar.

  "Amodt is a puppet of the First," Paronn replied quietly. "Through him she controls the Spaceflight Solidarity. She hasn't succeeded in banning the Star Seekers and Project Exodus. Perhaps she has had a change of heart and intends to offer us renewed cooperation."

  "Do you really believe that?" Deshan asked skeptically.

  "No." Paronn turned away from the window and looked at the old Chronicler. "Perhaps Amodt is acting on his own. I consider it more likely that the First has something up her sleeve. Whatever happens, stay close to me."

  "Are you expecting something?"

  Paronn, who looked forty and was well over a hundred, shrugged. "As long as we're talking with each other, there is hope."

  The elevator stopped at the tower's uppermost floor and the door opened. A young aide in a copper-red uniform waited there for the Twelfth Hero and his Chronicler.

  "Please follow me."

  The young man led them through a long
corridor past offices in which the administrators and their assistants were just then finishing the day's work. Deshan remembered the Impetus era. Back then, Levian Paronn and his engineers often worked around the clock.

  The aide stopped in front of a wide door, opened it, and bowed slightly. "Director Amodt is waiting for you."

  The two visitors stepped inside and Deshan immediately got the impression of an excess of luxury. The walls of the large office were paneled with expensive dark wood, and the floor consisted of honey-yellow marble. Display cases showed scale models of spacecraft that the Spaceflight Solidarity had sent to the inner and outer planets. There were also pictures of Meritworthy space travelers, engineers, and administrators. The beams of small spotlights fell on paintings and sculptures. The purpose of a mirror about a meter wide and some two meters high on one wall remained a mystery to Deshan. Did Amodt find pleasure in looking at his reflection? Was he in love with himself?

  The short, stocky Director came out from behind his desk of rare, expensive wood. He was smiling in exaggerated friendliness and with outstretched hands. "Fare you well, Levian Paronn and Deshan Apian. I am honored that you've come. Please sit down." He indicated two chairs and went back behind his desk.

  Paronn and Deshan took their seats.

  "After your most recent statements in Marroar's media, I am a little astonished by your invitation," said Paronn, who apparently wanted to get down to business immediately. "You have hardly missed any opportunity to criticize the Star Seekers' Project Exodus as an outrageous waste of resources."

  Deshan saw with the eyes and heard with the ears of a Chronicler who had learned to take note of all details. He scrutinized Herbon Amodt, noticing the occasional trembling of the bushy brows and observing how his fleshy hands felt over the desktop as though searching for support somewhere. The Director of the Spaceflight Solidarity was attempting to appear calm and collected, but betrayed himself with more than just his unsteady gaze. Deshan saw his nervousness.