Raising the Stones

by Sheri S. Tepper

  The network was not perfect. Still, it did not engage in recriminations. Such were wasteful. Such were inefficient. When action was wanted, action was all that could happen. All orderly growth was abandoned. Shapes heaved and changed, cells ramified, structures shuddered and expanded like storm clouds, boiling with almost visible motion. Now all order was lost in this burgeoning growth.

  The inevitable had been assumed. The immediacy of the inevitable had been underestimated. The network, even while it roiled with frantic life, was no longer sure it could grow fast enough.

  SEVEN

  • The Archives link, on which Mysore Hobbs had insisted when Hobbs Land had first been settled, announced itself in the middle of the night, and Mysore Hobbs II became the first person outside the invading force and Hobbs Land itself to learn what had happened, who had died, and who else was likely to. Dern Blass’s image was there, on the stage, a little incoherent at times, but clear enough to be shockingly understood. Though Dern Blass didn’t tell Mysore what had motivated the Baidee, not precisely, his message did offer intriguing hints as to what might have moved them to do such a dangerous and provocative thing. There was no question that it had been Baidee who had made the raid. The best possible proof of Baidee culpability, as the image showed, lay in the person of one Nonginansaree Hoven, approximately eighteen lifeyears old, now under detention, nearly naked, at CM, together with all his weapons and typical Baidee clothing, including his zettle. Dern Blass had a few superheated words to say about the words embroidered thereon.

  While Dern Blass grieved over his dead settlers, wantonly killed, Mysore grieved with him. When Dern spoke angrily of the blown Doors, however, Mysore Hobbs realized at once that the attackers had not destroyed them for mere destruction’s sake. The only reason to destroy the Doors would have been to keep the foray secret for some little time, that is, unknown by System at large. Because the Archives link was archaic and inefficient, the invading force had not imagined such a thing would exist, and though it was archaic and inefficient, Mysore learned of the outrage within a few watches of the time Dern began the telling. He also learned the name of the captured soldier.

  He sent Hobbs Transystem staff members quietly to Thyker, where they were able to establish Hoven’s membership in an ultramilitant group of wild-eyed youngsters known as The Arm of the Prophetess, commanded by Howdabeen Churry. An information stage specialist began backtrailing charges for food and drink and transportation, thus uncovering evidence that Churry and Shan Damzel had several times been in the same place at the same time, not long before the raid itself. The same backtrailing was used to locate other possible members of the Arm.

  It was only half a day, Phansuri time, after learning of the matter that Mysore Hobbs came through the Door from Phansure to Chowdari on Thyker like a fat stroke of lightning, surrounded by thunderclouds of aides and specialists in System Law, demanding to be seen at once by the Circle of Scrutators, preferably by all of them assembled.

  “Not available,” he was told by a cowering underling.

  “They must answer at once to this outrage,” Mysore trumpeted.

  “On retreat,” he was told by another, more supercilious underling, who had no idea what was going on.

  Holorabdabag Reticingh had ordered the underling to forestall interruption. He himself was not sure what had happened, though, since Mysore Hobbs had made no effort to keep the matter quiet on Phansure, System News was already seething with rumors. Reticingh wanted to delay confrontation until he could learn specifically what had happened. It was not the first mistake made by Baidee on that day. It was not to be the last.

  “Tell your Scrutators they will regret their incivility,” smiled Mysore Hobbs with a dragon’s toothy grin. “Whether they were on retreat or not, they should have made time to talk to me. I could have enlightened them as to the murders of over three hundred unarmed and inoffensive civilians upon Hobbs Land, including many children. Young children. I could have told them about the destruction of Doors which will require much time and enormous expense to replace. I could have told them that we have a member of the invading force captive. He is a High Baidee, member of a group called The Arm of the Prophetess. Here is his picture, another of his clothing. Here is a medical report on his condition. Since I could not inform your foolish masters of these matters, I leave you with two names to give to them with my compliments. Shan Damzel. Howdabeen Churry!”

  And with that, he turned about and went back to the Hobbs Transystem complex on Phansure, from which location he subsequently refused to speak to anyone from Thyker, either during or after his completion of certain arrangements with the other farm worlds.

  “Tell them,” he told his secretaries when Thyker tried frantically to reach him, “that I am on retreat.”

  This information was promptly received on Thyker, and the underling carried the message to Reticingh and his fellows.

  “You should have talked with him,” said Merthal, who had been summoned to lend aid and assistance.

  “How could I talk to the man when I don’t know what has happened. I can’t talk to him until we know exactly what occurred. What has Churry been up to?”

  “He can’t be located,” replied Merthal, who had been trying to find Churry since the first rumors had reached the Circle of Scrutators. “They say he’s on desert maneuvers.”

  “How about Shan Damzel?”

  Shan Damzel was summoned and asked to tell the Circle what he’d been up to for the past few days.

  “I’ve been here at the temple,” he said sulkily. “Every day for the past five days, as a matter of fact.”

  “Doing what?” asked Reticingh.

  “Meditating. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  “Reticingh,” said Merthal, “I’ve just thought …”

  Reticingh made an angry and impatient gesture. “Are you involved in this business?” he snarled at Shan.

  “What business?”

  “This destruction of the Hobbs Land Gods?”

  Thank the Overmind, said Shan silently. At least it’s dead on Hobbs Land.

  “When did this happen?” he asked, with spurious innocence.

  “Yesterday.”

  “I’ve been here in the temple, meditating.”

  “Reticingh,” Merthal interrupted again.

  “What!” snarled Reticingh.

  “Something just occurred to me.”

  “And what was that?”

  “Thyker gets about two-thirds of its total food supplies from Hobbs Transystem.”

  Shan looked up, dazed, wondering what this had to do with anything.

  “Mysore Hobbs is Hobbs Transystem,” Merthal went on, relentlessly. “And he’s very upset.”

  “He wouldn’t,” breathed Reticingh. “He wouldn’t do that?”

  “Do what?” asked Shan, suddenly aware of factors and considerations which had not previously crossed his mind. “Do what?”

  “Oh, shit,” muttered Reticingh. “Oh, for the love of the Overmind. Oh Hell, Shan. What did the Hobbs Land Gods ever do to you that you had to stir up something like this?”

  • The same question had occurred to Mysore Hobbs. It wasn’t that Mysore Hobbs cared about the Hobbs Land Gods. Mysore Hobbs had no interest in the Gods one way or the other. He was a Phansuri, who could take Gods or leave them alone. However, he was also a conscientious man whose self-image demanded very high standards of conduct, and if Gods meant something to the settlers, then their Gods should not be interfered with. The settlers had been guaranteed that courtesy under the terms of the contract.

  The government of either Phansure or Thyker would have considered it acceptable merely to refer the matter to Authority. Mysore Hobbs, however, had no intention of involving Authority. Whenever one invoked Authority, one invoked, by association, that unliving army stored away on the moon Enforcement, just waiting to be called up. Authority and Enforcement were two words for a single idea, like bread and jam or roast grom with kotopek. If a hundred or
so Baidee could make such a mess of a simple raid which had been largely unopposed, consider what unthinking destruction such an army might accomplish! Mysore Hobbs shuddered to think of it. No, he did not intend to involve Authority.

  Instead, Hobbs sent for his operations manager, who communicated with the other Hobbs agricultural projects. Food scheduled for shipment to Thyker was to be rerouted to Ahabar or Phansure or the supply center for the Celphian Rings. No food was to be shipped to Thyker from any Hobbs Transystem Foods source except from Hobbs Land itself.

  • On Thyker, at the main receiving station outside Serena, where the day shift of warehousemen and transport workers had been waiting since early morning, a shift supervisor was attempting to explain to a higher-up in Chowdari that no foodstuffs had arrived from any of the Belt worlds, that his complaint to Hobbs Transystem had been greeted with the information that all future shipments were to come from Hobbs Land only, but that the supervisor had been unable to reach Hobbs Land.

  “Can’t reach Hobbs Land?” asked the higher-up with a sinking feeling.

  “Something wrong with their Doors! I sent messages through all three of them. All I get is sparks!”

  “I’ll have Chowdari try and call you back.”

  Chowdari was also greeted with sparks and the warning howl that meant system malfunction. A message sent from Chowdari to Fenice upon Ahabar, asking Fenice to attempt to reach Hobbs Land, had similar results.

  Maintenance of Doors was an Authority responsibility. The Bureau of Doors, unlike other Authority subdivisions, had a well-earned reputation for actually working. Its people were trained to a fare-thee-well, and they liked to be kept busy. By noon the station outside Serena had been informed by the Bureau that Hobbs Land had no functioning Doors and was therefore unavailable. By midway in the afternoon, the import center at Chowdari was aware that Thyker was under embargo.

  “I don’t understand!” screamed the Thykerian shipping manager, who really did not understand. “What have we done?”

  A Phansuri employee of Hobbs Foods enlightened him.

  The shipping manager went personally to the temple and demanded to see whoever was in charge at the Scrutator level. He got, not by chance, Holorabdabag Reticingh.

  “They say they’re going to what?” demanded Reticingh for the third time. “They really say that?” He was rejecting the idea, hoping against hope it wasn’t so. Still, he could not pretend he was surprised. Mysore Hobbs was not a patient man. The Scrutators should have seen him when he arrived on Thyker. It had been a mistake not to do so. Mysore Hobbs intended to hold their feet to the fire.

  Reticingh reflected sadly that something of this kind had been almost inevitable ever since Shan Damzel returned from Hobbs Land. Something of this kind had been brewing, in fact, ever since Shan, bursting with pride in his own strength and stability, had chosen to do research among the Porsa. Two guards were sent to fetch Shan, who returned with them in a sullen and un-forthcoming mood.

  “Three hundred dead,” said Reticingh. “In Hobbs Land. Late yesterday, I suppose, our time.”

  Shan blinked in honest astonishment. Churry had assured him there would be no killing.

  “They have one Baidee in custody,” said Reticingh. “The clothing, the armament, the equipment, all Baidee. They were seen by hundreds of people. Think of it, Shan. Baidee, from Thyker, made an assault upon the religion of the people of Hobbs Land and killed hundreds of innocent, inoffensive people in the process. Several Baidee, perhaps ten or twelve, were killed by the Hobbs Landers, defending themselves, but the bodies were removed by the invaders.”

  “I was here yesterday,” protested Shan. “I was meditating. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  “I know damned well where you were,” roared Reticingh. “What I want to know is where were you before that, and who did you talk to.”

  Shan shut his mouth stubbornly and looked out the window, across the drill ground.

  “Does this tie into that ‘lost platoon’ out there on the desert?” demanded Reticingh.

  “I don’t know,” said Shan, who considered that he didn’t know for sure. “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, Shan Damzel, perhaps you’d like to think about the following. Less than one-third of the food we need on Thyker is raised here on the planet. The rest comes from the Belt worlds. As of this morning, Mysore Hobbs has shut us down to receiving any food at all, except from Hobbs Land.”

  “That ought to be plenty. There aren’t that many of us, and it’s a very productive farm world,” said Shan in a slightly surprised voice.

  “Except that the Baidee raiders blew the Doors on Hobbs Land,” said Reticingh in an ominously soft voice, “So there’s nothing coming out. The Phansuri our import manager talked to seems to think there’s some other way for Hobbs Land food to get to Thyker, but he didn’t tell us what it was. He suggested the import man ask around. The import man came to me, so I’m asking around, Shan. We very much need to find that alternate way, Shan, or there are going to be a few million very hungry people informed that they’re hungry because of the Damzel and Churry clans. I can imagine what your mother will say. Think that over.”

  Shan was taken under supervision, which is what the Baidee called putting someone in a small room with no access to the outside. After he had had time to think, Shan admitted he had “suggested” to Howdabeen Churry that the Hobbs Land Gods might be dangerous, but Churry hadn’t said anything to him about killing people or blowing Doors. This was true. Churry hadn’t confided in Shan. Churry had told himself he was acting swiftly to forestall possible danger. What he had actually been doing, in Reticingh’s opinion, was using Shan as an excuse for some excitement.

  Howdabeen Churry stayed unavailable for the better part of two days, by which time some depots were already starting to run short of food. Those Baidee who attempted to go through Doors to other places were informed very politely by representatives of the governments of their putative destinations that, inasmuch as there had been extraplanetary hostilities allegedly committed by Baidee, no Baidee travelers from Thyker were being accepted.

  • On Hobbs Land, all the bodies of those killed by the Baidee were taken up on the rampart and buried, that is, all but the one from each settlement and one from CM chosen for burial near the temples. Everyone who had gone to the escarpment on burial detail had commented on the increasing size of the mounds. They were taller than they had been the last time they were seen, and they were changing in shape. Also, the new mound at the center of the radiating ones was pushing up like the stalks of asparagus grown in the fragile vegetable houses. As though that were not quite surprising enough, other sets of radiating mounds, which were scattered over the escarpment, were also growing; some of them were growing very fast. Dern heard this without surprise. At this point, he felt, nothing could surprise him.

  Saturday felt a moment’s trepidation when she heard about it, but then relaxed almost immediately. It was all right. It was perfectly all right. She didn’t feel she needed to discuss it with anyone, not even Jep. Everyone knew about it, but no one took time to discuss it.

  The fires were out, and all the emergencies had been dealt with. Everybody who was going to die had probably died, said the medical people. Dern had made an all-settlements announcement that morning, reminding the people that, even though they were isolated at the moment, they were mostly healthy and would be well fed, with wider menu choices than heretofore, since no items could be earmarked only for export at the moment. Medical supplies on hand would last for an extended period. True, they would have to do without things like new clothing, new shoes, and new amusements from off-planet, at least for a time. A spinning and weaving class would be scheduled at the artisan center ten days hence, as would a course in shoe repair. A new drama group was being organized as well.

  According to Mysore Hobbs, half a year, Standard, was the quickest time in which a Door could be built on Phansure and shipped to Hobbs Land—which were not at the best possible
points in their orbits for this exercise—though it would probably take longer. Assembly of the new Door would take the Phansuri technicians some time after that, so there would be no off-planet materials for that long. Unless, that is, some other way of ingress could be found, in which case a Door might be brought in disassembled and then assembled by Phansuri technicians, cutting the total time by about two thirds.

  Harvested food was to be stored for the time being. Nobody had decided yet what would happen after the warehouses were full. As for perishables, don’t bother to store them, said Mysore Hobbs. Raise what you need for yourselves and plow under anything else.

  “How do you plow under milk vishes,” Africa had asked, annoyed. “You milk them or else.” The dairymen went on milking the vishes and herding the dermot, but the Settlement One field people were already turning over about a hundred square miles of hardy salad stuff.

  Africa and her volunteers had found the Door the Baidee had left in the twisted canyon land north of CM. Nothing would go through, which meant that the single-destination interlock had been disconnected, so said Theor Close and Betrun Jun, the Phansuri engineers who were now trapped on Hobbs Land along with everyone else. They gave the Door a good looking-over, trying to decide how it could be dismantled or set for some other destination. Obviously, since it hadn’t come in already set up, it was designed to be dismantled, but, with no procedure manual, neither of the engineers wanted to be the first to try doing it. They agreed between themselves that it was a single-destination Door of a very archaic type and that they lacked the knowledge, the parts, and the mindless intrepidity to try and modify it.

  Eventually, at Theor’s suggestion, a crew simply pulled the Door over on its face and built a fence around it. Anybody trying to come through from off-planet would end up inside solid rock. Africa and Sam had wanted to hide near the Door and intercept whomever came in, but Dern Blass said no. He was unwilling to risk further loss of life. Besides, Mysore Hobbs had something else in mind.