Distant Friends and Other Stories

by Timothy Zahn

  Rubbing his temples tiredly, he gazed at Narda, his mood a mixture of irritation and concern. He'd tried to be patient with her, recognizing that she needed time to adjust to the Kohinoor-mind. But it had been six months now, and in many ways she was no better off than she'd been at the beginning. Her fear of the voyeuristic potential of the hive mind remained especially strong; she showered and dressed alone these days, her eyes either closed or rigidly fixed on something harmless. And their sex life Pahli's irritation shaded into anger. They'd made love exactly twice since his return, and both times she'd been so tense it had been a waste of effort for both of them. For a short time desperation had goaded him into considering an affair, but the misery that had caused Narda had made him drop the idea completely. It was no comfort that the problem was becoming chronic all over the planet, as only those with a touch of the exhibitionist seemed still able to perform. Those who deliberately watched did so enviously.

  Narda's dream was becoming darker, and Pahli realized his irritation with her was influencing it. With an effort he fought the mood, feeling her nightmare's texture change as he did so. They were trapped in a no-win situation, he thought dully; he couldn't conceal his dissatisfaction even long enough to encourage her efforts; and she, in response, had effectively given up in despair.

  Turning over on his side, Pahli closed his eyes. He was tired, but sleep was going to be hard to recapture now that he was awake. Around him the Kohinoor-mind swirled its kaleidoscope of thoughts, almost as many now as in the middle of the day. The ever-growing number of minds impinging on each person had driven many to search for a semblance of privacy in the traditional hours of sleep. The first few to take up nocturnal habits had indeed found relative quiet; now, with a third or more people doing it, the advantages had become illusory. Like standing up at the stadium, in the days when there were such things as games.

  now that he was awake. Around him the Kohinoor-mind swirled its kaleidoscope of thoughts, almost as many now as in the middle of the day. The ever-growing number of minds impinging on each person had driven many to search for a semblance of privacy in the traditional hours of sleep. The first few to take up nocturnal habits had indeed found relative quiet; now, with a third or more people doing it, the advantages had become illusory. Like standing up at the stadium, in the days when there were such things as games.

  Or was he absorbing the characters of those around him, losing himself to the greatest leveling force humanity had ever known?

  Were all men finally to be made truly equal?

  The thought jolted him like nothing else ever had. Somehow, he'd never considered all the hive mind's implications on such an intensely personal level before. I've been blinding myself, the thought came. Was that his own opinion, or the Kohinoor-mind's?

  Does it matter any more?

  Something inside him snapped. Get out of my mind! he roared, shocking even himself with the virulence of his sudden hatred. The hive mind recoiled, but it didn't-it couldn't-do as he demanded. And as it settled back around him he saw his anger sweep outward like a tsunami, adding its contribution to the growing blackness. How long, he wondered, before the darkness overwhelmed them all?

  Give it time, came the mocking, hopeless reply.

  And finally it was finished. The hive mind encompassed all of Kohinoor, linking each mind directly with all the others.

  Shapur Nain locked his apartment door behind him-an unnecessary precaution, since the Kohinoor-mind already knew full well what he planned. It could have stopped him long before now if it had cared to. But after the first few it had given up the use of physical force and now limited itself to a-to him-pathetic effort at moral persuasion.

  We still need you, Pahli Jalal said; but the appeal lacked conviction. Shapur knew that the former commander of the Susa felt each of these deaths strongly-more so, perhaps, than the average person-but even he had bowed to the inevitable. And Shapur's motives, unlike those of the others, were not purely selfish. To him, if to no one else, it was an important distinction.

  Please don't do this just because of me, Ruhl Tras pleaded as Shapur drew the vial of pain pills from his pocket. Of all of them, the young boy felt the only genuine concern, and for a moment Shapur savored the feeling, as he had once enjoyed the beauty of flowers in the park. I must, he told Ruhl gently. I don't know why my wartime memories strike you with such strong horror; but they do, and there's no other way I can stop that from continuing. Please don't feel guilty-this will be better for both of us.

  The boy sobbed once, and Shapur felt the mind reaching out with what little comfort it could still muster.

  Taking the cap off the vial, he swallowed the contents quickly. A few minutes would be all it would take.

  A bottle of his favorite whiskey-a close friend these last few weeks-awaited him by his window seat.

  Sitting down, he uncorked it and took a last, long drink. Then, setting it down carefully-mustn't spill on the rug-he sat back and gazed out at the park. Quietly, gently, he drifted off to sleep....

  A bottle of his favorite whiskey-a close friend these last few weeks-awaited him by his window seat.

  Sitting down, he uncorked it and took a last, long drink. Then, setting it down carefully-mustn't spill on the rug-he sat back and gazed out at the park. Quietly, gently, he drifted off to sleep....

  The blame must be shared, Ahmar and Cyrilis said together. All of us aboard the Susa made the same assumption, that the hive mind on Kohinoor would exactly mirror our own experience. You had no way of knowing what a million-fold increase in the size of the mind would do-or of knowing how people who had never lived in the confines of a starship would react. The words did not console Pahli; consolation no longer existed on Kohinoor.

  Laying blame is a useless exercise. We've attempted to remake Man in our own way, and have paid the price for our arrogance. I wish we'd never met the Drymnu, or that the Susa had been lost forever in deep space. Death is now the only escape for any of us from this poison-filled prison we've built.

  Perhaps not, the mind suddenly said. Perhaps there is one other way.

  Within seconds the idea had been fully considered, its scientific, technical, and logistic ramifications examined in detail. It was desperate and probably a hopeless waste of effort... but only probably. For a world without any hope at all, the odds were good enough.

  So for the first-and last-time the Kohinoor-mind began to work at its full capacity, throwing the combined power of two hundred million people into this final project. The results were staggering-a true echo, Pahli thought wistfully, of the efficiency and cooperation he'd once hoped to give his world. For such power to be used to complete the mind's own destruction was just one last irony.

  They began to build starships. Hundreds a week at first, but within six months over a hundred thousand a day. Small and cramped, they were little more than shuttles with sleeper and recycling facilities, Burke stardrives, and planet-scanning equipment. But they would fly... and they would carry just one person each.

  It took over two years to build ships enough for everyone, and the project left Kohinoor gutted of metals and other materials. In a way, it was fortunate that many of the weaker people were unable to stand the long wait and chose instead the easier escape. For them, of course, no starships were needed....

  For Pahli, it ended as it had begun, in the eternal darkness of space. Through his tiny viewport he watched as Kohinoor fell behind his ship. He was one of the last to leave-his sense of honor had demanded that-and within a day or two Kohinoor would be deserted.

  Pahli, can you still hear me? the last remnant of the hive mind touched his. He didn't answer, but it knew he heard. We don't blame you for what happened, Pahli. Please don't blame yourself.

  How can I not? I failed my world, and good motives are no excuse for the destruction I brought upon us.

  I've already accepted your forgiveness; allow me the privilege of withholding my own.

  The mind seemed to sigh. Very well, if that's
truly your wish. But note that your self-imposed martyrdom is not without its irony. Indeed, you did not fail at the task you set for yourself.

  Through the growing silence he heard the faint answer: You found a final solution to war.

  The contact broke, and for the first time in three years Pahli was truly alone. Taking a deep, clean breath, he shifted his gaze from Kohinoor's disk and scanned the rest of the sky. A hundred or more ships were still visible, their drives showing like tiny blue stars. Their passengers, too, were alone now as they prepared for the long voyage ahead. Perhaps-perhaps-a few years of solitude would break the hive mind forever, and bits of this mass exodus would someday be able to come together again safely. But Pahli doubted that would ever happen. Individual survival was all that was left to them now; on new worlds if they were lucky, aboard their cramped ships if they were not. Their cramped, one-man ships... and Pahli forced a bitter smile. Yes, the mind had been right; he had found a final solution.

  It takes at least two people to have a war.

  Behind him the sleeper tank chimed its readiness. With one last look at Kohinoor, Pahli went to strap in.

  He'd be entering hyperspace soon.

  PAWN'S GAMBIT

  To: Office of Director Rodau 248700, Alien Research Bureau, Clars From: Office of Director Eftis 379214, Games Studies, Var-4

  Subject: 30th annual report, submitted 12 Tai 3829.

  Date: 4 Mras 3829

  Dear Rodau, I know how you hate getting addenda after a report has been processed, but I hope you will make an exception in this case. Our most recently discovered race-the Humans-was mentioned only briefly in our last annual report, but I feel that the data we have since obtained is important enough to bring to your attention right away.

  The complete results are given in the enclosed film, but the crux of the problem is a disturbing lack of consistency with standard patterns. In many ways they are unsophisticated, even primitive; most of the subjects reacted with terror and even hysteria when first brought here via Transphere. And yet, unlike most primitives, there is a mental and emotional resilience to the species which frankly surprises me.

  Nearly all of them recovered from their fear and went on to play the Stage-I game against their fellows.

  And the imagination, skill, and sheer aggressiveness used in the playing have been inordinately high for such a young species, prompting more than one off-the-record comparison between Humans and the Chanis. I suppose it's that, more than anything else, that made me unwilling to let this data ride until our next report. Confined as they are to their home planet, the Humans are certainly no threat now; but if they prove to be even a twelfth as dangerous as the Chanis they will need to be dealt with swiftly.

  Accordingly, I am asking permission to take the extraordinary step of moving immediately to Phase III

  (the complete proposal is attached to my report). I know this is generally forbidden with non-spacing races, but I feel it is vital that we test Humans against races of established ability. Please give me a decision on this as soon as possible.

  races, but I feel it is vital that we test Humans against races of established ability. Please give me a decision on this as soon as possible.

  Eftis To: Office of Director Eftis 379214, Game Studies, Var-4

  From: Office of Director Rodau 248700, A.R.B., Clars Subject: Addendum to 30th annual report. Date: 34 Forma 3829

  Dear Eftis, Thank you for your recent addenda. You were quite right to bring these Humans to our attention; that is, after all, what you're out there for. I find myself, as do you, both interested and alarmed by this race, and I agree totally with your proposal to initiate Phase III. As usual, the authorization tapes will be a few more weeks in coming, but-unofficially-I'm giving you the go-ahead to start your preparations. I also agree with your suggestion that a star-going race be pitted against your Human: an Olyt or Fiwalic, perhaps. I see by your reports that the Olyts are beginning to resent our testing, but don't let that bottler you; your results clearly show they are no threat to us.

  Do keep us informed, especially if you uncover more evidence of Chanilike qualities in these aliens.

  Sincerely, Rodau The glowing, impenetrable sphere of white mist that had surrounded him for the last five minutes dissolved as suddenly as it had formed, and Kelly McClain found himself in a room he had never seen in his life.

  Slowly, carefully, he looked around him, heart pounding painfully in his ears. He'd screamed most of the panic out of his system within the first three minutes of his imprisonment, but he could feel the terror welling up into his throat again. He forced it down as best he could. He was clearly no longer in his office at the university's reactor lab, but losing his head wasn't going to get him back again.

  He was sitting in a semicircular alcove facing into a small room, his chair and about three-quarters of his desk having made the trip with him. The room's walls, ceiling, and floor were made of a bronze-colored metal and were devoid of any ornamentation. At the right and left ends of the room he could see panels that looked like sliding doors.

  There didn't seem to be a lot to be gained by sitting quietly and hoping everything out there would go away. His legs felt like they might be ready to hold him up again, so he stood up and squeezed his way through the six-inch gap between his desk and the alcove wall. The desk, he noted, had been sheared smoothly, presumably by the white mist or something in it. He went first to the panel in the right-hand wall; but if it was, in fact, a door, he could find no way to open it. The left-hand panel yielded identical results. "Hello?" he called tentatively into the air around him. "Can anyone hear me?"

  The flat voice came back at him so suddenly it made him jump. "Good day to you, Human," it said.

  "Welcome to the Stryfkar Game Studies Center on Var-4. I trust you suffered no ill effects from your journey?"

  "Welcome to the Stryfkar Game Studies Center on Var-4. I trust you suffered no ill effects from your journey?"

  Memories flashed across Kelly's mind, bits of articles he'd seen in various magazines and tabloids over the past few months telling of people kidnapped to a game center by extraterrestrial beings. He'd skimmed some of them for amusement, and had noted the similarity between the stories; humans taken two at a time and made to play a strange board game against one another before being sent home.

  Typical tabloid tripe, Kelly had thought at the time.

  Which made this an elaborate practical joke, obviously.

  So how had they made that white mist?

  For the moment, it seemed best to play along. "Oh, the trip was fine. A little boring, though."

  "You have adjusted to your situation very quickly," the voice said, and Kelly thought he could detect a touch of surprise in it. "My name is Slaich; what is yours?"

  "Kelly McClain. You speak English pretty well for an alien-what kind are you, again?"

  "I am a Stryf. Our computer-translator is very efficient, and we have had data from several of your fellow Humans."

  "Yes, I've heard about them. How come you drag them all the way out here-wherever here is-just to play games? Or is it a state secret?"

  "Not really. We wish to learn about your race. Games are one of the psychological tools we use."

  "Why can't you just talk to us? Or, better still, why not drop in for a visit?" Much as he still wanted to believe this was a practical joke, Kelly was finding that theory harder and harder to support. That voice-like no computer speech he'd ever heard, but nothing like a human voice, either-had an uncomfortable ring of casual truth to it. He could feel sweat gathering on his forehead.

  "Talking is inefficient for the factors we wish to study," Slaich explained offhandedly. "As to visiting Earth, the Transphere has only limited capacity and we have no long-range ships at our disposal. I would not like to go to Earth alone."

  "Why not?" The tension had risen within Kelly to the breaking point, generating a reckless courage. "You can't look that bad. Show yourself to me-right now."

  The
re was no hesitation. "Very well, the voice said, and a section of the shiny wall in front of Kelly faded to black. Abruptly, a three-dimensional image appeared in front of it-an image of a two-legged, two-armed nightmare. Kelly gasped, head spinning, as the misshapen head turned to face him. An x-shaped opening began to move. "What do you think, Kelly? Would I pass as a Human?"

  "I-I-I-" Kelly was stuttering, but he couldn't help it; all his strength was going to control his suddenly rebellious stomach. The creature before him was real-no make-up job in the world could turn a man into that. And multicolor hologram movies of such size and clarity were years or decades away... on Earth.

  "I am sorry; I seem to have startled you," Slaich said, reaching for a small control panel Kelly hadn't noticed. The muscles moved visibly under his six-fingered hand as he touched a button. The image vanished and the wall regained its color. "Perhaps you would like to rest and eat," the flat voice went on.

  The door at Kelly's left slid open, revealing a furnished room about the size of an efficiency apartment. "It will be several hours before we will be ready to begin. You will be called."

  "I am sorry; I seem to have startled you," Slaich said, reaching for a small control panel Kelly hadn't noticed. The muscles moved visibly under his six-fingered hand as he touched a button. The image vanished and the wall regained its color. "Perhaps you would like to rest and eat," the flat voice went on.

  The door at Kelly's left slid open, revealing a furnished room about the size of an efficiency apartment. "It will be several hours before we will be ready to begin. You will be called."

  He lay face-downward for a long time, his whole body trembling as he cried silently into his pillow. The emotional outburst was embarrassing-he'd always tried to be the strong, unflappable type-but efforts to choke off the display only made it worse. Eventually, he gave up and let it run its course.

  By and by, the sobs stopped coming and he found himself more or less rational once more. Rolling onto his side, unconsciously curling into a fetal position, he stared at the bronze wall and tried to think.