Up the Walls of the World

by James Tiptree Jr.

  “You’re evading the point. Did they suspect a change of identity?”

  Giadoc hesitates, his mantle glowing blue-gray in muted disapproval. “No,” he admits finally. “The only doubts I received were concerned with the health of the body’s owner. But Fathers, I don’t think you could go undetected long, because I discovered that this group of aliens are actually attempting to learn to transmit life-signals. Fantastic.” His field expands again at the wonder of it. “So ignorant and chaotic. Some of them have considerable power, but hopelessly untrained. That must be why our Beam stabilizes there so readily. An extraordinary coincidence!”

  “Whatever they may learn in the future is no danger to us now,” Scomber declares. “The point is that even these aliens who have some crude mind-skills didn’t suspect you. Is that right?”

  “Yes, Father Scomber.”

  “And if your Beam is stabilized on them it should be easier to send people in a unified group, isn’t that correct, Lomax?”

  “Well, yes, that’s true, Scomber.” The Chief Hearer is furled in dislike. Near him old Heagran is glowing dark indigo in wordless anger. But more and more young Fathers are clustering behind Scomber, their fields aligned with his. Among them is Tiavan.

  “Wait, Scomber,” old Omar interjects. “Let us hear from the female before we think of sending untrained people.”

  “Very well, Tivonel!”

  She banks down among them, trying to think what she can do to dissuade them from their rotten plan.

  “Yes,” she concedes, “with Giadoc’s guidance it was easy to travel the Beam. And the merger does itself, you only have to push. But Fathers, it was a horrible world. You Deepers may think you’re used to living at the bottom of the Wind, but it’s much worse than that. It panics you.”

  Several Fathers glint angrily at her daring, but Scomber ignores her. “Will a Father saving his child panic so easily?” he demands in loud lights. “You have heard the female. Summon your Fatherly courage. On this Beam our children and our people can escape!” Flickers of assent greet his words; more Fathers throng around him.

  Tivonel can contain herself no longer.

  “What about the poor beings you bring here?” she flares. “While Giadoc was away I was with his body, I saw the alien mind he sent here, I saw it was hurt and afraid. And they’re intelligent beings like us. If Tyree is really in danger, how can a Father send these people here to be burned or die? I know that’s wrong.”

  At this rebuke from a female the Father’s mantles light angrily. But old Heagran unfurls himself and silences them with an icy snap on the life-bands.

  “She is right!” His voice is a commanding purple. “This female is a better life-Father than you! I say again, Scomber, this is a criminal plan. What right have we to steal intelligent bodies and bring these people here to suffer and die? You who try to escape by such means debase the name of Tyree. If you survive, you will be criminals, not Tyrenni; and the Great Wind will reject you forever. Saving Tyree does not mean saving our bodies alone. It is the spirit of Tyree we must save, or die with it. I for one will stay and perish in the arms of our sacred Wind rather than crawl out a few extra years as a mind-stealer in some alien abyss.”

  “Well said!” “Nobly spoken, Heagran!” Several Fathers move to station themselves with Heagran and Lomax. “I stand with you,” declares Eldest-female Janskalen. More Fathers and females drift away from Scomber’s group.

  But there is still a resolute crowd behind Scomber and Terenc. Avanil and many of her Paradomin are there too.

  All fields are radiating tension. Is it possible there is going to be actual strife, a mind-fight like the Wild Ones here among the Fathers of Tyree? Tivonel shudders, scanning around over the throng. For the first time she realizes how huge it is. The plant-thickets at the Wall are dense with people, young and old—even some children jetting loose. A group of big-field males that must be the Near Pole Hearers is resting in a thicket. And more coming up from Deep all the time. They’re scared; she can hear the green flicker of fear flash from group to group. It wouldn’t take much to generate a terrible panic-vortex, here, she thinks. Some of the elders must think so too, she can see them awkwardly moving among the crowd, trying to restore calm.

  The formal white of Lomax’ voice breaks into the tensions.

  “Fathers, again I must remind you, your decision is premature. Your plan may be impossible. Only two of the three tests have been made. Even if we can send untrained people, undetected, we still do not know the most vital point: Will the exchange hold when the Beam collapses? Can you stay alive there without the Beam? We must test by withdrawing the Beam. I say again, I and my Hearers condemn this plan to steal lives. But we will make this last test in the hope that it will fail and put an end to discord.”

  “Another test? Another delay until we all burn!” Scomber flashes.

  “If you go without testing you may well all die at once,” Lomax replies. “The Beam cannot be held long. Then you would lose all chance of any other way of escape.”

  “Very well,” Scomber concedes angrily. “Let this last test begin!”

  “As soon as our Hearers are rested. They are drained and tired now, they require at least six hours. And in that time the turning of the alien world will complicate our contact. And furthermore, the lone Destroyer has approached our Beam, may the Wind blast him. We must wait a day for optimum conditions and to give the Destroyer time to move away.”

  “A day! Nonsense!” Scomber explodes in fiery rage. “People are dying, the Wind is burning! We cannot wait a day, Destroyer or no Destroyer. If you Hearers are tired, let them use the help of these Near Pole Hearers over there! Bdello!” Scomber jolts the life-bands. “You, Bdello, bring your Hearers to Chief Lomax at once.”

  “But they have never formed a Beam,” Lomax objects. “Also, see, they are exhausted from the journey—

  “Then teach them!” Scomber orders. “Bdello! The Fathers summon you!”

  Bdello and his travel-weary band start out toward the angry group of Fathers. Tivonel moves to Giadoc’s side.

  “Let someone else go this time, Giadoc. Don’t risk yourself again.”

  “I must, I am the most experienced. As to risk, it appears that none of us on Tyree have long to live. But I promise you, dear-Tivonel, if I’m alive when the Beam returns, I will come back to you and to our son.”

  “If you’re alive—Oh, Giadoc!”

  “Tivonel,” he dims his voice. “Between ourselves, I believe one can remain on an alien world without the Beam. Once I secretly tried disengagement. It was unpleasant but I survived. So I fear that this crime is indeed possible. But I swear to you, I will come back to join you here and we will face our fate together.”

  The flashing uproar around Scomber and Lomax has resolved itself. Lomax agrees to try to form a Beam with the help of Bdello’s Hearers. “But it must be raised not once but twice,” he warns. “First to send and second to retrieve, if Giadoc proves to be alive.”

  Giadoc turns away to start the long climb up to the launch-station, and the new Hearers prepare to jet out to the posts around the Wall.

  “Marockee, you and Virmet see that they get food,” Tivonel says. “I must find a Father to stand by Giadoc’s body while he is away. The poor alien who comes here may injure it. Elders!” she calls formally. “A Father’s care is needed to stand by Giadoc!”

  No one answers. Dismayed, she realizes how tired and unwind-worthy the senior Fathers are. And no help can be expected from those who bear children in their pouches. But there are Terenc and Padar and Tynad, strong young males with newly empty pouches.

  “Father Tynad, Father Padar, will you not help?”

  “What harm can come to his body in so short a time?” asks Tynad.

  “The alien could hurl his body into the Abyss,” Tivonel says. “Besides, don’t you understand? The poor person who was brought here was terrified, it almost fragmented. It has need of your Fatherly skill.”

  “
We have no duty to Father animals.” Glinting sarcastically, Padar and Terenc move away.

  “They’re not animals,” Tivonel cries. “It was a person like us, it spoke! And we are stealing them from their world. Very well—if none of you great ones will help, I will go up again and try, female though I am.”

  From behind her a male voice speaks. “This female shames us. I am Ustan. Though I am not skilled enough to climb the heights of your wild winds, I will try to make my way to Hearer Lomax. If you are in need, perhaps I can reach you from there, Tivonel.”

  “Honour to you, Father Ustan,” Tivonel flashes gratefully.

  As she turns away there is an angry flare of argument around Lomax and Scomber.

  “I insist on going with Giadoc,” Father Terenc is saying. “I shall not become fearful and flee, like your female.”

  “It is easy enough to send you, Terenc,” Lomax replies. “But you don’t realize the danger. You may be lost forever when the Beam withdraws.”

  “So be it,” Terenc signs firmly. “With great respect, Hearer Lomax, I see that this entire test is being conducted by Hearers who, as you say, hope that it will fail. I feel it would be well for Giadoc to be accompanied by one who will try to make it succeed.”

  Lomax has been paling and flushing with insult, his field is furled around him like a storm. But he only replies curtly, “Very well. Follow Giadoc if you wish instruction.”

  The big male spreads vanes and pumps upward after Giadoc, making up in determination what he lacks in skill.

  Tivonel flaps her mantle to clear her mind; never has she heard such dissension among the Fathers of Tyree. Anyone would take them for squabbling females! Then she planes skillfully out onto a slender updraft and soars up past him, thinking, Now I have two bodies to watch over. Well, Terenc’s can look after itself.

  As she climbs toward Lomax’ eddy her name is called.

  “Wait, Tivonel! I’ll go with you and help watch!” It’s Avanil, with one of her Paradomin.

  “Welcome, Avan.” Tivonel uses the unfamiliar name carefully, pleased by the chance to learn more of this strange young female. But what about the plenya encumbering her pouch?

  “A moment.” With odd formality, Avanil turns to her friend, and her field alters. Tivonel sees that she is transferring the young plenya to the other with ritual reassurances—exactly like a small Father! It gives her a weird shudder.

  “Let’s go.”

  They jet upward together. Tivonel enjoys the sense of comradeship, like the old days on the hunting teams. She’s been away from female things too long.

  “We mustn’t get too close until they’re actually on the Beam,” she warns. “You’ve no idea what it’s like, your field could get pulled in. Afterwards they look almost dead. It’s uncanny.”

  “I envy your trip on the Beam,” says Avan/Avanil. “Listen. I intend—”

  At that moment a life-signal bursts at them. Someone is jetting fast out through the Wall. As the mind-field appears, Tivonel exclaims.

  “Iznagel! What are you doing here? She’s my friend from High Station,” she explains to Avanil.

  “Well met, Tivonel.” Iznagel hangs panting below them. “I seem to be a little off course, don’t I? The time-eddies are getting so bad I’m not sure I’m here. I came to warn Hearers that something terrible is wrong with our Sound. Last night the high stream from mid-world veered over us; it’s full of death. Whole packs of curlu are burnt, they’re screaming so you can’t think. Two of our people went up to investigate and got burned too. Look at me!” She unfurls her vanes to show fresh blisters.

  “The path you came on isn’t even safe by day now, Tivonel. Father Mornor is taking the children down to Deep and the rest of us are trying to move the Station lower down, if we can find a stable crest. Everybody should get out of the High—What in the name of the Wind is going on down there, Tivonel? What are all those Deeper Fathers doing here?”

  “They’ve come here because there’s trouble all over,” Tivonel says. “It’s complicated, Iznagel, I can’t explain right now. I have to go.”

  “They should go down at once!” Iznagel dives abruptly away from them down the wall of the wind.

  “It’s beginning,” Avanil says somberly. “Soon there’ll be no safe place. The Sound doesn’t reach here at nights now, but when Tyree turns it’ll burn here too.”

  “Feel the Beam starting,” Tivonel says. “It’s as if they drained the whole Wind—Oh, look at Lomax.”

  They are passing Chief Hearer Lomax; Hearer Bdello from Near Pole is beside him. The two Hearers’ huge fields are streaming up in an arc toward the juncture far above; spectacular. Lomax’ power is an awesome sight; even Avanil must doubt that females could ever develop such life-sensitivity.

  But a curious thing is happening: the mantles of both Lomax and Bdello are murmuring with light-speech. Surely they aren’t talking to each other in their state? No; it must be unconscious fragments, like sleep-talk. Suddenly Lomax forms a word with such blue-green hatred that Tivonel stops in mid-jet.

  “The Destroyer!”

  And Bdello echoes, “The Destroyer… the Beam…”

  Great winds, she forgot that Destroyer out there somewhere. Can it be intruding on the Beam? She recalls Giadoc’s memory, the cold, vast alien deathliness. Could it attack Giadoc?

  As the two females hover, Lomax’ dreaming voice flickers clearly, “No … but near… Something intrudes… disturbance…”

  “Disturbance,” Bdello seems to agree, amid a mumble of meaningless lights. Then Lomax signs, “Gone… small, what?… Wait… no: clear. Clear…” And the two unconscious glimmers sink to a low hum of concentration.

  Tivonel scans up to where Giadoc and Terenc are. Their life-fields look normal.

  “Whatever it was, it wasn’t the Destroyer,” she tells Avanil. “We better get moving; they’ll get it fixed.”

  As they jet on upwards through a world growing strange and hushed, Avanil asks, “That alien you touched—was it a female?”

  “I haven’t an idea, it was all over so quick. Avan, I hate myself for getting scared.”

  “You’re not a coward. But listen, Tivonel: The one you saw in Giadoc’s body, was it female or male?”

  “I couldn’t tell. It was a mess, it was too scared to make sense. And then it threw me. You better watch out for that, you know.”

  “But it had a big field?” Avanil persists.

  “Oh yes—at first I thought it was Giadoc, until I saw how weird it was.”

  “So it could have been a female with a big field.”

  “Maybe the males are even bigger,” Tivonel says teasingly.

  “Be serious, Tivonel. Somewhere out there must be a world where we aren’t like this. Where the females are able to do Fathering and all the high-status activities… Of course the egg has to be exposed before it’s fertilized,” she goes on reflectively. “That’s so basic. And I guess that means the males have to catch it. But the rest could be different. Maybe where there isn’t any wind, females could get their eggs back and raise them!” She laughs fiercely. “Maybe there’s a world where the females are so strong they just hold the males and squeeze them out onto the egg and keep the eggs themselves! And we’d have all the Skills and respect!”

  Both young females are laughing now, the picture is so ludicrous. But Tivonel has been noticing that Avanil’s field really is unusually large and complex. Is her mock-Fathering really changing her? Could a female develop the sacred Fatherly skills? Infant-Empathy, Developmental-Responsibility, Mind-Nurture, all those big things?

  But imagine being a Father. Father Tivon, she’d be. She has a quick fantasy of herself inventing a new theory of field-forming, or pre-flight training. Conferences, grave excitement. Fame. Reverence. Status. But would she really enjoy being so serious and dedicated, doing nothing but debate with other Fathers? It would mean giving up all hertraditonal low-status life. No more adventures or work; no more planning that barter scheme, for instance.
Is Avanil so ambitious she’s forgotten all wildness, all female fun?

  Just as she’s thinking how to ask such a personal question, a long-range signal resonates the bands. The Beam is up. Yes—there is the great pale arch of energy above the vortex of the pole.

  “We better stop here. Watch.”

  “Whew, the Sound is strong up here, Tivonel. Your friend was right, it’s getting dangerous.”

  “Never mind that. Hold tight.”

  They can see the life-fields of Giadoc and Terenc above them, starting to surge upward toward the focus of the Beam. The energy around them mounts and builds; the two females can feel their own minds being pulled upward. As the flood of power intensifies they lock their field edges together in the effort to hold back.

  Just as it seems they must fly upward, the second signal snaps past them and the tension lets go. Above them the great arched dome has towered out of scan. The world below seems drained and flat. Tivonel expands her mind-field from emergency mode.

  “That’s it, they’re on the Beam. See how dead they look?”

  They jet up to where the two unconscious males are floating darkly, each veiled by only a thin trace of field.

  “You stay by Terenc, Avan. See that connection to the Beam? Don’t break it. And listen, don’t get too close when you see the field start to change.”

  “How soon will the alien come?”

  “It takes awhile. No, look! It’s starting!”

  The field around Terenc’s body has begun to thicken and roil as it had with Giadoc. Giadoc himself shows no sign of field-change.

  “It’s a smaller field, Avan. It’s not so wild, either. Be careful.”

  Terenc’s mantle suddenly screams green with fear. But it’s more of a whimper, not the blazing uproar of Tivonel’s other alien.

  “Poor thing.” Confidently, Avan approaches it and deftly flicks back a field-flare that threatens to separate. The stranger does not react. Avan soothes another flare. Then she marshals her own mind-surface firmly toward the ragged stranger. Great winds, she’s making a small Father-field! Tivonel can pick up the waves of reassurance she’s transmitting. This Avan really is something!