The Starfarers Quartet Omnibus

by Vonda N. McIntyre

  One of the meerkats clambered up the striped bank and began digging. Bits of dirt skittered out behind it.

  Europa stopped.

  “What is this?” She left the path. At the canyon wall, she pushed the meerkat gently aside, then brushed her fingertips across a band of artificial sedimentary rock and exposed the tip of a bone.

  Gerald chuckled. “It’s an art project. One of our artists has... a bizarre sense of the unique.”

  Crimson Ng slid through the crowd. “It’s a fossil bed,” she said, serious and straight-faced. “We found it in the moon rock we made Starfarer out of. I’m a paleontologist. I’m excavating it.”

  “For heaven’s sake — !” Gerald turned toward Europa and spread his hands in dismay. “She has a bizarre sense of humor, too.”

  The fossils Crimson had made were of strange, nightmarish alien beings. She had created a perfect illusion, exactly as if a paleontologist were halfway begun with the site. Europa knelt before exposed fossils, gazing at them, fascinated.

  Stupid of Gerald to laugh at Crimson, to make fun of her work. She was small; she appeared fragile, delicate, and very young. She was none of those, and she had a powerful temper, close to the surface. Instead of releasing her irritation, she was using it to drive the deception, to exasperate Gerald.

  The assistant — acting — chancellor should have laughed at himself; he should have apologized.

  “This isn’t worth any more of our time.” He spoke abruptly; his smile was artificial. He offered his hand to Europa, and ushered her and Androgeos along the path. Crimson glared after them.

  J.D. thought she saw Androgeos slip a fossil into his pocket. But she was not sure, so she said nothing. For one thing, Crimson would be delighted if the alien humans took one of her fossils and puzzled over them. She claimed the bones to be indistinguishable from real fossils, except that they came from no creature that ever evolved on Earth.

  Besides, J.D. could not figure out where Androgeos would fit a pocket in the knife-pleated elegance of his garment.

  J.D. caught up to Crimson and gave her arm a comforting squeeze.

  “Gerald is such a jerk,” Crimson said.

  Up ahead, Europa stopped.

  “You are correct,” she said to Gerald.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You are correct about time. Ours is spent.”

  “Come with me a little farther,” Gerald said urgently. “The river leads into the wetlands. It’s spring... the Canada geese will be hatching their goslings —”

  Europa listened in silence. Androgeos shrugged, sullen, uninterested.

  “We might even see the eagle...” Gerald hesitated when Europa showed no reaction. “We have so much to tell each other...”

  Despite herself, J.D. felt touched by his desperation. For all his contrariness, he wanted success. If the expedition could not succeed magnificently, he wanted it to succeed in some small way. He thought he had taken control of it, and now he held it in his hands as it collapsed, withering in the cold gaze of Androgeos. No one controlled it any longer.

  His voice trailed off.

  Nothing he could say would make a difference. J.D. knew it was too late. It had been too late since the missile exploded.

  “I haven’t seen an eagle in many years.” Europa smiled, not unkindly. “I’d like to see one again. Someday. But Andro and I have indulged ourselves long enough. It’s been good, spending time with our own people.”

  Our own people, J.D. thought. Could she mean, could she possibly mean she and Andro are the only human beings in civilization? How isolated they must feel!

  o0o

  Stephen Thomas thought he would suffocate. He thought his body was being crushed. The weight above him pressed him against the flattened grass. The cool green smell, sweetened with the fragrance of hyacinths and tinged with a metallic sheen, permeated the darkness. After a few minutes the sickly sweetness nauseated him. He started to gag. He fought to control the reaction. He knew that if he threw up, he would suffocate.

  A trickle of warm air caressed his face. He gasped at it. He tried to breathe without moving: impossible. The weight of the slug took advantage of each exhalation, never pushing air from him, but forcing each inhalation to be shallower and more difficult.

  Stephen Thomas panicked. Clamped flat against the dank grass, he fought against the slug. His struggle was motionless, and futile.

  He fought again, this time to win detachment. He lay very still, trying only to survive as long as he could.

  A ripple passed through the body of the slug. It squeezed him tighter to the ground, moving over his feet, up his legs and body, across his face. He would have cried out, but even that was impossible.

  This is it, he thought. Blades figured out how to break the programming. I’ve had it.

  Daylight and cool air burst over him. The silver slug reared up, exposing Stephen Thomas’s face, his shoulders, his chest.

  Stephen Thomas gasped at the air, sure it would be his last breath.

  Instead of crushing him, the slug lurched off him and crawled away. Its body slid across his legs, leaving him free. The silver slug returned to its guard post, joining the others as they lay across the doorway like faithful dogs, like three-bodied, headless Cerberus guarding the gates of hell.

  As soon as the slug released him, the interference on his web link vanished. He clutched for the web, hung on tight, then, gradually, released his grasp. Now that he was free, he had nothing to say to anyone.

  He tried to get up.

  “Stephen Thomas, what in the world are you doing here?”

  His legs were asleep, his arms full of pins and needles. His joints ached fiercely and his hands itched.

  Professor Thanthavong helped him to sit.

  The air smelled clean and cool, after the metallic scent of the slug, the crushed grass, the bruised flowers. His fingernails were packed with dirt.

  “The damned thing tried to kill me!” he said. “If you hadn’t come along—”

  “The damned thing called me,” Thanthavong said. “They’re keeping the chancellor in. And everybody else out. What were you doing?”

  With her support, he was able to stand. He was still damp from the rainstorm, chilled from lying on the wet ground. He shivered. His legs trembled.

  “God, it hurts,” he said. His feet felt like sacks of rocks.

  “You should have let me give you the depolymerase.”

  “Great. I’d be throwing up instead of aching.” He shuddered: he would be dead instead of in pain. “No thanks.”

  He stumbled when he tried to walk. The blood rushed, fiery, to his toes. Leaning on Professor Thanthavong’s shoulder, he limped to the stone outcropping and sank onto the warm rock.

  “You wanted revenge,” Thanthavong said sadly.

  Stephen Thomas looked at the ugly wreckage of the chancellor’s residence. He thought he saw the shadow again, the human-shaped shadow in the dark doorway. Thanthavong laid her hand on his shoulder, restraining him, but Stephen Thomas did not move.

  “I thought I did,” he said, more to himself than to her. “I should have.”

  “Stephen Thomas, get hold of yourself!”

  “I’m not allowed to love anyone,” he said. “First Merry, then Feral...”

  “What nonsense.”

  He leaned forward, breathing deep and hard. He could not explain.

  “Come along,” she said. “Don’t make Feral’s death more of a tragedy by behaving like a fool.”

  Her tone allowed no argument. Stephen Thomas made himself watch what was happening from a distance, from inside the glass box where nothing could touch him.

  o0o

  The path led toward the steep hill that formed the end of Starfarer’s campus cylinder. Europa and Androgeos walked with Gerald at the front of the straggling group of expedition members.

  J.D. lengthened her stride till she was walking beside Europa.

  “Let us show you some hospitality,” J.D. said.
“At least stay long enough to eat with us.”

  Europa took so long to reply that J.D. thought she would not answer at all.

  “It would be improper,” she said.

  The words gave J.D. a deep, quick shiver. The symbolism of eating together, breaking bread, remained powerful. In civilization — in Europa’s part of humanity’s civilization — one did not eat the food of someone not a friend.

  “I’m sorry,” J.D. said softly.

  “I, too,” Europa said. “Please believe me. I am sorry, too.”

  “Will you accept a gift from us, at least?”

  Europa hesitated. “I suppose I could do that.”

  J.D. handed Europa the packages.

  “I didn’t have time to wrap them, I’m afraid.” Or anything to wrap them in. Purely frivolous items like wrapping paper were in short supply on the starship, passed around and reused till they dissolved in tatters.

  “What is this?” Europa asked.

  “Chocolate, and coffee.”

  “Indeed!”

  “Psychoactive substances,” Androgeos said, disapproving.

  “I suppose so, technically,” J.D. said. “But fairly mild, as drugs of choice go.”

  “Thank you very much, J.D.,” Europa said. “I’ve heard of these, but of course we’ve never tasted them.”

  “I thought you wouldn’t have seen chocolate. I wasn’t sure about coffee. Do you know how to prepare it?”

  “You will have to tell me.”

  “Grind the beans up fine, boil water, let the water cool for a minute or two —” J.D. suddenly choked up. It was Feral who had told her about never letting coffee boil. She managed to finish giving Europa the instructions, but her voice shook and her vision blurred, from holding back the tears.

  “All that’s happened is a great disappointment to you,” Europa said. “I know it. I’m sorry to be the cause of it. Thank you for the gifts.”

  J.D. turned away, embarrassed, and scrubbed her eyes one her sleeve.

  At the foot of the hill, Europa stopped and extended her free hand to Gerald, who clasped it gingerly.

  “Thank you for showing us your home,” Europa said. “We’ll take our leave of you now. I think it would be best if the same people who first met us bid us farewell.”

  For once in his life, Gerald Hemminge had no heart to argue.

  o0o

  Europa and Androgeos hovered by the airlock. Victoria and J.D., Satoshi and Zev floated nearby. J.D. felt as if she were in shock with disbelief, that the first meeting with alien beings could begin and end so quickly.

  “Finish your business with Victoria, Andro,” Europa said. “Then we must leave.”

  “What business?” Victoria said.

  “You promised to show me your algorithm,” Androgeos said. “That’s why we came over here, after all.”

  “Who cares about the algorithm!” Victoria exclaimed. “There’s got to be a way for us to talk to the people in charge. The people who control —”

  “I’ve explained all that to you.” Europa’s tone was cold and final. “You broke the rules of civilization. The reasons don’t matter. In a few decades —”

  “Why should we believe you?” Victoria was angry. “You tell us nothing, you won’t answer our questions, you conceal things from us —”

  “What things?” Androgeos challenged Victoria. “We never concealed anything you could comprehend!”

  Satoshi’s sharp laugh cut itself short. “You wouldn’t let Stephen Thomas cut one damned grass blade to look at!”

  “Oh, that. I told you, it’s only ordinary grass. That doesn’t count.”

  “It counted to Stephen Thomas!”

  “Victoria, your algorithm sounded very pretty. Won’t you show it to me before I go?” Androgeos tried to charm her, but managed only to sound ingratiating. Victoria ignored his request.

  The image of a barren, cratered sphere, slowly turning, formed nearby.

  “What’s this,” Victoria asked, “if not something you concealed?”

  Androgeos glanced at the image of the bleak alien ship. At first he looked startled, then amused.

  “Did you know they were here?” he asked Europa.

  “Yes. Of course. But they always are.”

  “Who are they?” J.D. asked.

  “Just the squidmoths.” Europa dismissed the second alien ship with a graceful flick of her long fingers. “There were probably some back at Tau Ceti. I didn’t look.”

  “The... squidmoths?” The strangest thing about Europa’s behavior was that she did not consider it strange at all, that she expected J.D. to accept her disinterest and to share it.

  “They’re everywhere,” Europa said. “Whatever system you visit, there’s likely to be one of their ships. They’re like... like rats.”

  J.D. laughed in disbelief. “Europa... if you leave us behind, we’ll talk to them. You may think we’re hopelessly prejudiced, but we’re not. Civilization may think we’re only capable of dealing with people of our own species. But we’re not.”

  “You may not be,” Androgeos said, self-satisfied, still amused. “But they are.”

  “I’m sure this seems an opportunity to you, J.D.,” Europa said. “I assure you, it isn’t. They won’t talk to you. They seldom talk to anyone. They... I don’t know what they do. They listen to the starlight. They exist.”

  “I see,” J.D. said. Squidmoths?

  “I see you don’t believe me.” Europa sighed. “When I was an Earthling, we believed what our betters told us.”

  “Your betters?” Satoshi asked. “Who was better than the descendants of the Pharaohs?”

  “No one,” Androgeos said, smooth as silk. “Europa speaks metaphorically. As children believe parents, you should believe us.”

  “Who were your parents?” Satoshi asked. “Kings and gods? Pharaohs?”

  Androgeos glared at him.

  “Or more ordinary folks?” Satoshi asked.

  “What if they were?” Androgeos exclaimed angrily. “What does it matter?”

  “It doesn’t, to me,” Satoshi said. “But you keep bringing it up.”

  “You can remain here and waste your time trying to talk to the squidmoths,” Europa said, ignoring the exchange between Androgeos and Satoshi. “But I warn you, don’t waste too much time. If you do, you’ll find yourself severed not only from civilization, but from Earth.” She touched the wall, propelling herself slowly toward the hatch. “Victoria, show Androgeos your algorithm. We must go.”

  Victoria took a long, deep breath, a sigh of sadness and loss. Her eyelids flickered, and the edges of a second image began to form beside the desolate planetoid.

  “Victoria,” J.D. said, abruptly understanding what Androgeos planned. “Victoria, don’t.”

  Victoria opened her eyes. The algorithm graphic flickered.

  “What?”

  “I want to see it!” Androgeos shouted, ugly and desperate.

  “They want to take it, Victoria!” J.D. said. “They want it badly.”

  The algorithm faded to invisibility as Victoria realized what J.D. meant.

  “Your ship appeared behind us,” Victoria said to Europa. “That’s why Androgeos asked how we followed you so quickly. We entered transition a long time after you did... but we got here much sooner.”

  Outrage disturbed even Satoshi’s equanimity.

  “This is what you’re always looking for, isn’t it?” he said. “Something new, something unique. Victoria’s work, but you’d take it, for yourselves, without a second thought.”

  “It isn’t like that,” Europa said.

  “Let us take it with us,” Androgeos said. “It might make a difference. It might help you be banned for a short time instead of a long one.”

  “How short?” Satoshi said.

  “You can talk to the — to the ‘ancient astronauts’!” J.D. said. “Or are they just a tall tale?”

  “They aren’t. We can’t talk to them. We don’t know how. But they know.
.. somehow they know it, when civilization changes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us all this in the first place?” Victoria said.

  “I didn’t think you’d believe us, I didn’t think you’d trust us.”

  “I walked out onto your planet unprotected.” J.D. whispered her words; she could not speak louder, or she would sob. “I trusted you with my life, but you didn’t trust me at all.”

  “I’m sorry,” Androgeos said. “I’m sorry! I made a mistake. I thought you’d exploded a bomb! If you trust me now —”

  “How short a time?” Satoshi said again.

  “I can’t promise,” Androgeos said. “But maybe only a hundred more years.”

  “Good lord,” Satoshi said. “Androgeos, you’ve been living with your labyrinth too long. Your brain is tangled.”

  “A hundred years?” Victoria exclaimed. “Forget it.”

  “Keeping the algorithm won’t do you any good,” Androgeos cried.

  “No?” Victoria said. “If civilization wants it, they’ll have it. But they’ll have it from me.”

  Victoria had made her decision. Even Androgeos recognized it.

  “Fine,” he said sullenly. “You can wander around until you find someone to give it to.”

  “I intend to!”

  “In five hundred years.”

  Androgeos opened the door to the airlock and entered without another word. A little troop of meerkats followed him.

  Europa hesitated in the entrance, balancing herself on its edge, half in the ship, half out.

  “I’m sorry things happened this way,” she said. “I —”

  Alzena Dadkhah plunged into the waiting room. Her head-cloth had come loose, and her beautiful long hair flew wild. This was much more the way J.D. expected to see her, not trapped in the conventions of her heritage.

  But then J.D. saw her gaunt face, her staring eyes, her desperate expression.

  “Take me with you.” Alzena’s voice cracked. She tried to wet her lips with her tongue. “Please.”

  “We can’t,” Europa said. “You must...”

  Alzena stopped, awkwardly hitting the wall, too distracted for grace. Her fingernails scratched on the rock foam as she pulled herself toward Europa.