Where the Ships Die

by William C. Dietz

  Dorn tried to take comfort from the headmaster's words but found it hard to do. "And if we don't hear? What then?"

  Tull looked away, then back again. "Eventually, if I receive no answer to the urgent letters already sent, you'll be asked to leave the academy. But let's cross that bridge when we come to it. School is the most important thing right now ... and you're pulling a C in history."

  Dorn nodded, mumbled his thanks, and left the office. Little more than fifteen minutes had passed, and his whole life had changed.

  2

  Tragedy, like good fortune, is little more than an illusion.

  La-Da

  Traa philosopher

  Standard year 2097

  The Planet La-Tri

  The Mountain of the Moons loomed black on blue as the sun set and three satellites rose in the east. The moons glowed yellow-white, and La-Ma touched forehead, chest, and abdomen, an action that symbolized the unity between mind, heart, and body.

  The priestess allowed her eyes to drift down along barely seen ridges, vertical cliffs, and hills of black volcanic rock to the high ground where ancient walls protected the Temple of Tranquility and the 3,333 altars within. It had been a fortress once, a place of comparative safety into which the priesthood could retreat, defending both themselves and the triune concepts of peace, harmony, and love. But that was hundreds of years ago, before the great reconciliation, and the unification of the Traa race.

  All these thoughts and more made their way through La-Ma's mind as she watched the grand processional wind its way down the mountainside and into the temple. Every celebrant carried a glow rod that lit the area around them but was no more than a pinprick against the night. However, when combined with all the rest, the glow rods made a river of light visible from orbit.

  The processional was an important symbol, made all the more so by the fact that each of the more than 2,500,000 individuals below were part of a three-person triad that included a priest, a warrior, and a commercial being. La-Ma was looking at roughly one-third of the Traa race, in her opinion the most important part, since the Philosopher Sept had responsibility for science, education, healing, as well as the spiritual and moral health of the Traa people. This fact both amazed and frightened her due to the responsibility involved.

  Unlike the amazingly fecund humans, or the equally fertile Du'zaath, the Traa had an extremely low birth rate. Two or three offspring per triad were typical, though there were enough larger families to keep the population stable. This was a situation that theoretically made the race vulnerable to attack and caused the Warrior and Commercial septs no end of worry. Which explained why they advocated commercial domination, or failing that, all-out war—a war that the Philosopher Sept opposed lest it destroy the Traa rather than protecting them. Not to mention the suffering it would bring to millions of sentient beings and the harm it would do to their various planets. No, such a course was unthinkable, which accounted for the fact that La-Ma and her peers had resolved to hold the gathering over the objections of their own scientists.

  Yes, they understood the mountain was stirring for the first time in eight hundred years; yes, they knew an eruption could be catastrophic, but the alternative was just as risky. It would take months, perhaps as much as a year to select another location, overcome objections from the traditionalist faction, and stage another gathering. More than enough time for the other septs to complete their plans and put them in motion. There were other ways to communicate, of course, but the Traa made decisions by consensus, and preferred face-to-face speech where matters of substance were concerned.

  La-Ma thought of her own lovers, the warrior Ka-Di, and the commercial being Sa-Lo, and felt affection mixed with consternation. How could they be so blind? To believe that force rather than love would secure the future of the race? But they were as true to their septs as she was to hers.

  Gravel crunched on the path behind her, and La-Ma turned. Like all of his kind, La-To had a short snout, omnivorous dentition, and horizontal nostrils. He wore the white robe of a priest, which, when combined with the short brown fur that covered his body, was sufficient for a warm summer's evening. He lifted a hand in greeting. It had three fingers and one thumb. "Peace unto you, La-Ma... La-Si told me you'd be here."

  La-Ma pressed her hand against La-To's. "Peace unto you, La-To. La-Si spoke truthfully." She gestured toward the processional below. "Look, our brothers and sisters are beautiful, are they not?"

  La-To looked and was about to answer when another mild earthquake shook the ground beneath his feet. He held his breath against the possibility that a worse tremor would follow. Nothing happened. "Yes, but we must hurry. The seismologists are concerned. The quakes are coming more and more frequently now. A steam vent opened to the east, and the sulfur dioxide emissions have increased. La-Si recommends we open and close the meeting as quickly as possible."

  The temblors frightened La-Ma more than she cared to admit. She was quick to agree. "Yes, and let's evacuate the moment the ceremonies are over."

  La-To considered her suggestion. It wouldn't be easy to move 2,500,000 individuals, especially when many had their hearts set on sleeping in one of the altar rooms, or within sacred hollows on the mountain's slopes, but it had to be done. Especially since the scientists agreed that even a medium-sized eruption was likely to spew tons of rock and ash. Thousands might be injured or killed. He gestured his agreement. "An excellent idea... I'll work on transportation while you handle the meeting."

  La-Ma agreed and followed La-To down toward the valley below. The ground shook as something shifted deep beneath their feet. A quake rolled through the Valley of Tranquility. An altar fell.

  Hours had passed while the processional wound its way through the 333 stations of devotion and into the central cavern, a cavern created when molten lava flowed down the mountain's flanks thousands of years before, spreading fingers of red into the valley below. However, in spite of the fact that the rock looked solid, bubbles existed deep inside. They remained undisturbed as subsequent flows chose other less difficult paths.

  A time came when free-roaming outlaws drove a band of peace-loving Traa up off the plains. There the first defensive walls were built, shafts were dug, and a bubble was breached. Soon other caverns were discovered and linked via underground passageways.

  Hundreds of years passed, years in which food, texts, and gunpowder were stored in the caves, new engineering principles were discovered, and powerful machines were invented, all of which enabled the creation of a vast amphitheater with seating for nearly three million Traa. It was into this vast space, equipped with an elaborate multimedia communications system, that La-Ma stared, her heart beating heavily in her chest, the sound of her introduction still reverberating off the walls. This was the first time she had stood on the rotating platform and faced the entire sept. The responsibility weighed heavily on her shoulders. Her message was critically important. What if she failed? The other septs would continue their aggressive actions, the alien races would respond in kind, and a war would be fought. Millions of Traa watched her expectantly. La-Ma opened her mouth. Nothing came out. She tried again.

  "Thank you, La-Si. It's an honor to address this distinguished gathering. The scientists among you are aware that the Mountain of the Moons has awoken from its long slumber. With that in mind I will keep my comments short and ask that you cooperate when we evacuate the temple."

  There it was, the word "evacuate," which conveyed more urgency than "leave." It was already under way. For as La-Ma spoke, certain relics, artworks, and records had already been removed from altars and were being airlifted to safety.

  The audience stirred. Objections were shouted, and some of the more unstable attendees started to panic. The traditionalists, who saw the suggestion as an unseemly departure from past ritual, demanded permission to speak. La-Ma held up her hands. "Yes, there is change, and with change comes danger, but that is the nature of life."

  The saying, attributed to one of the sept's fo
unders, had a calming effect, and La-Ma launched into her carefully prepared text. "Listen, my friends, for I bring news of a danger greater than the magma below, or the eruption it might cause.

  "While other sentients developed civilizations in which people work together, but pursue personal goals, we evolved from three-person hunting triads. We act as a group. A group having familial and reproductive responsibilities. The two-male, single-female configuration ensures that the female has support and protection throughout her yearlong gestation period, and increases the likelihood that the child will survive, even if one of the parents is killed. This was a frequent occurrence hundreds of years ago.

  "The two-female, single-male model confers benefits as well. Cubs born into this situation are almost guaranteed to receive sufficient nurturance, and, in the days prior to public education, often received more instruction than their peers."

  "What is the point?" a voice yelled from the audience. "We know the history of the Traa race as well as you do!"

  Such interruptions were common—and signaled intellectual engagement. La-Ma gestured her thanks. "The point is that the very things that helped our ancestors to survive threaten us today. Time passed, and the individual roles within the triads became more specialized, until the professions of priest, warrior, and business being emerged as separate activities. Each has its own skills, conventions, and traditions. In order to survive, and eventually to prosper, priests joined other priests in the pursuit of knowledge, warriors established alliances, and commercial beings entered into partnerships, and in some cases, cartels.

  "A thousand years of anarchy ensued as religions were born and suppressed, city-states rose and fell, and armies conquered each other. Then came the Great Reconciliation during which the three great septs were formed, each a balance against the excesses of the others, each composed of individuals having similar attitudes and interests.

  "And the system worked very well indeed until a few hundred years ago when our warrior-explorers made contact with the aliens. They discovered that the aliens number in the billions and that they could eradicate the Traa race if they chose to do so. That realization, and that possibility, has caused our loved ones deep concern."

  A tremor shook the cavern, and tiny bits of rock showered down on the audience. They shifted uncomfortably and looked upward. La-Ma swallowed to ease her suddenly dry throat, and hurried to finish her speech. "We know the danger is real, that evil exists, and that some would take what we have. However, that possibility must be balanced against the findings of our social scientists, none of whom predicts war. The same cannot be said for our sister septs, however, since our monitors inform us that they are preparing for a campaign of military and commercial conquest, and that their actions could result in the very conflict they seek to avoid.

  "That's why we must take a firm stand, not just as a sept, but as members of our individual triads. We must reason with those we love and convince them to abandon this insane drive for power. We can never control the other races, nor should we try to do so. Peaceful coexistence is the best strategy, and even more important, the right strategy. Please join me and the rest of the council in our efforts to counsel our brothers and sisters while disaster can still be averted."

  The subsequent shouting signaled strong acceptance for La-Ma's point of view. She felt warm inside and exposed her neck in a sign of humility and submissiveness. La-Si, a somewhat chubby female of middle age, approached the platform and looked at La-Ma. "Thank you! Our sept owes you a debt of understanding."

  She turned toward the audience. "I know many of you would like to question our speaker, but I request that you hold your comments until tomorrow, when she will make herself available for group interaction. In the meantime, the evacuation will begin at the rear of the auditorium^ and proceed last row first. Transportation coordinators will guide you to maglev trains. Please remain with your row and help those who need assistance. May the truth enlighten and protect you."

  The ensuing evacuation went surprisingly well. Those in the front rows chatted with each other while those toward the back followed coordinators through the exits. Pleased that everything was going so smoothly, La-Ma was turning toward La-Si when the earthquakes began. They came so quickly and close together that seismographs located hundreds of miles away recorded them as one continuous tremor. And as the earth shook, the mountain began to spew superheated gas along with a column of ash. It eventually rose thousands of feet into the air before the wind pushed it toward the east.

  But La-Ma knew none of that as the floor pitched and rolled under her feet and she struggled to keep her balance. Some of the audience screamed and rushed for the exits, where the ushers turned them back. They were few when compared with the tens of thousands who remained where they were and closed their eyes in prayer.

  A deep, resonant hum filled the chamber but was drowned out by an ominous rumble and a muffled explosion. Rock started to fall, and La-Ma barely had time to think of her beloved Ka-Di and Sa-Lo before a section of roof collapsed and crushed the life from her body.

  Meanwhile, up on the surface, the first train to leave the temple shuddered as its single rail strained against its mountings, and rocked from side to side. The operator knew what had happened and hit the manual override button. Even a mile could make a difference. The maglev leapt forward, and might have made it too, if the Mountain of the Moons hadn't picked that exact moment to explode. It took less than five minutes to bury the temple, trains, and landing fields under tons of rock and ash. Afterwards, rivers of hot lava flowed down off the mountain to seal the mass grave.

  One-third of the Traa race was dead. It took weeks, and in some cases months, for the news to make its way to all of the Traa-held planets, and the entire race was convulsed with grief. But life goes on, or so the surviving septs told themselves, and there was work to do. Aliens were plotting against them and must be stopped.

  3

  God gives nothing to those who keep their arms crossed.

  Bambara (West African) proverb

  Date unknown

  The Planet New Hope

  Dorn Voss was expelled from the Milford Academy for Young Men exactly one month after meeting with Headmaster Tull. Each day felt like a week. One by one the hours crept by until the two o'clock mail call finally came. Some of the boys shouted with excitement as they tore into long-awaited packages, while those who received something nearly every single day yawned, and the less fortunate shrugged and wandered away. It was a painful process made even more so by the fact that Dorn had more than some stasis-packed cookies on the line. He was worried about his parents, and his concern deepened with each passing day. Nothing came, however, so Dorn stopped attending and made plans for the day when he'd be released.

  The headmaster's office was as it had been during his previous visit except that rain pattered against the skylight, rain that would not only fill the city's cisterns but flood the slums as well. Tull was worried, and it showed. "Have a seat, son. The paperwork is ready."

  In spite of the fact that the school boasted the latest in computer technology, a necessity if it was to attract students, the rest of the planet used old, frequently outmoded equipment. It was for that reason that Dorn's transcript, personal data, and release forms were issued on hardcopy as well as microdisk. The teenager signed his name in all the right places, pretended to hear Tull's well-intentioned advice, and wished the whole thing were over. The headmaster forced a smile. "It's no secret that whatever 'hope' the original survey team had for this planet was only partially realized. So, in spite of the fact that we have some serviceable hotels, there are many less reputable establishments as well. I took the liberty of reserving a room for you at the Starman's Rest. It's clean and reasonably priced. Here, take this," the headmaster said, handing Dorn some cash. "It'll tide you over."

  The teenager knew the money belonged to Tull and felt even worse about the 250 credits he had liberated from his fellow students over the past few weeks. "Thank you,
sir. My parents and I will repay the money as soon as we can."

  The Confederacy was huge, which meant that all sorts of things could happen to people, even wealthy ones, so there was little chance that Tull would get his money back and they both knew it. The headmaster smiled, said, ' 'Of course you will," and got to his feet. Dorn did likewise.

  "So," the older man said, holding out an enormous hand, "while I have no authority over you once you leave the compound, I strongly suggest that you conserve what money you have, obtain any employment that may be available, and stay in touch with my secretary. Word will arrive from your parents any day now—and we must know where you are."

  Dorn wanted to believe but couldn't. He managed a smile, shook the headmaster's hand, and left the office. He ignored the rain and made one last visit to the garden. Mud squished beneath his shoes, and branches rubbed his shoulders as the young man made his way out onto the terrace. The city was invisible behind a veil of mist and rain.

  Dorn stepped into the dilapidated hothouse, leaned on the doorjamb, and listened to the rain drum against the plexiglas. He knew he shouldn't cry, knew it wouldn't do any good. But he cried anyway. He watched the plants dance and sway to the rhythm of the rain and lit a stim stick.

  The hotel was at least five miles away, a somewhat unpleasant march under the best of circumstances, and completely out of the question for someone burdened with two heavy bags. Besides, Dorn had never wanted for anything, not before today anyway, and the idea of walking to save money never even occurred to him.

  A wave was sufficient to summon the least damaged of the three cabs waiting at the gate. The bags went into the trunk, and Dorn entered the worn but air-conditioned interior. Plastic, covered with official notices, separated the driver from the passenger compartment. It was difficult to see the cabbie, but the teenager had the impression of a small man with black hair and a nose stud.