The D’neeran Factor

by Terry A. Adams

  Hanna lay still. The words bubbling up to consciousness stung her, connecting. With the speculations of an aged monk; with a vision of flame in a silver-shot sky. The questions she did not ask trembled in her mouth. Who should know more about Lost Worlds than she? It was Hanna who had brought back the news of one Lost World in the first terrible weeks of contact with Zeig-Daru: a message of destruction, a tale of a colony long dead. Almost, in this moment, she believed the old abbot had been right.

  Then sense asserted itself. “If he got to Alta from a Lost World, it couldn’t be considered lost…” The voice of ultimate common sense; Jameson’s voice. The fire had to have been on Nestor where such things could happen at the hands of the so-called law; or maybe, even, on Co-op, in the great riots a few years before Hanna was born. It was easier to believe that this strange, exquisite man lived with one great delusion than to believe in Lost Worlds.

  Finally she said softly, “Mike? Where could it have been really?”

  But now he was asleep, at peace, and she would not rouse him to talk about yesterday.

  Then they were there, a new world broad before them: Like a feast, Michael thought, watching Hanna’s intent face. And he stood by her place in Control and felt regret for what would be finished today, the honeymoon. Past now.

  Hanna had no time for regret. She was worried.

  GeeGee had moved in slowly, broadcasting a simple speech Hanna had recorded in Ellsian. It said: “I am the friend of Rubee and Awnlee of Ell, she who traveled with them: an alien, a visitor, a guest. As gifting I bear the story of the Journey of Rubee. I will have great honor if you will speak with me.”

  Hanna liked this speech. It was dramatic, it was designed to provoke curiosity (a fact the Uskosians would recognize and approve), and it was courteous. Hanna had spent some time concocting it. Uskos should fall at once into a frenzy of welcoming.

  Instead there were flat acknowledgments in harsh-sounding voices that had the half-familiarity of a dream, followed by a command for the travelers to do exactly as they were instructed. There was no threat, but also there was no welcome, not even the most formal of courtesies. When GeeGee landed at last—it took a long time to get permission to land—they were directed to a desert, a place of dried watercourses in a red-brown land. And an escort of Uskosian vessels landed with them, gently as a fleet of butterflies, surrounding the Golden Girl.

  They went through GeeGee to the starboard lock, and Hanna went out with the others behind her. The sky was vast and opalescent and a cold wind came from it. There were sharp stones on the rusty soil, splintered by heat and cold, and scrubby plants that bent in the wind. Five streamlined vessels flaunted gaudy insignia in an arc in front of Hanna; the others had landed behind her, to GeeGee’s port side, completing a precise circle with GeeGee small and impotent at the center. Between GeeGee and the ring of aircraft a single Uskosian waited, a spot of vivid color in the gray wind. Hanna led her little party toward him. He stood without moving; even the stiff fabric of his bright blue uniform did not sway in the wind.

  The humans came up to him and stopped. When they did, other Uskosians came out of the other vessels, so colorfully garbed they might have been sifted through a prism. Hanna looked around and saw that her party was surrounded.

  She said to the blue-clad being in Ellsian, with all the courtesy Uskos had taught her: “I am she who was the companion of Rubee and Awnlee of Ell, and was present at the end of their journey. I have news of them, though grievous news.”

  The being did not answer at once. There were pouches and a slackness in his face that showed he was about Rubee’s age, and there was something of Rubee’s stateliness in him. The advancing Uskosians in their bright uniforms stopped. It was wrong, all wrong; a Polity mission must have gotten here first, and at any moment humans must show themselves and seize Michael and Hanna, too. Yet she sensed no human presences except those she knew, and though she did not probe the thought of the being before her, there was no hint that he acted on behalf of humans.

  At last he said, “I am Norsa of Ell, a maker of agreements.”

  Hanna answered politely, “I am ’Anarilporot. My companions are named—”

  She stopped. At the sound of her name—which she had rendered as an Uskosian would say it—Norsa had lifted his hand. The aliens converged, each holding at ready a glossy shaft of metal. The weapons were not stunners. They could release a force that punched holes in flesh.

  She had not meant to shock Uskos with telepathy at once. But she used it to say unhappily to Norsa, because it carried conviction more powerfully than speech: I did not expect this greeting for the friend of Rubee and Awnlee, Rubee’s selfing in the second degree of adoption, Awnlee’s near-kin!

  Norsa was sufficiently shocked, the tendrils round his mouth squirmed with it, but he took Hanna away anyway. The other humans also were removed, separately, except that Lise and Michael were permitted to remain together; that was because the child shrieked and clung to Michael, and Hanna, seeing weapons leveled, said to Norsa, “But they are sire and selfing!”

  Shen who had made a sharp movement toward Michael also was in danger. “No!” he said, and Shen stopped in mid-stride. “Hanna will fix it,” he said, but his voice was strange.

  Hanna was led away. She got a last glimpse of Michael standing in the waste, looking at her over Lise’s curls. Shen and Theo also watched her go, and they looked after her mistrustfully. But Michael’s eyes were as strange as his voice: without hope. She could not do anything about it then, she could not even stop to comfort him, and had to walk away.

  On a day (said Hanna), Rubee of Ell set forth with his selfing Awnlee to seek the persons of other stars; and the vessel which bore Rubee and his selfing outward was the Far-Flying Bird, which was the pride and flower of the land of Ell and of all Uskos. And Rubee and Awnlee sailed on and on, and the years went by; for space was dark and empty, and it seemed there were no other persons among the stars. Yet they did not fear, but felt themselves better acquainted with the Master of Chaos than they had been before.

  They came at last to a place among the stars where other persons were, and these persons called themselves Humans, which Rubee and Awnlee rendered “’Unans,” and this meant in the tongue of the ’Unans, “persons.” And the ’Unans sent to Rubee and Awnlee one ’Anarilporot to be their friend and guide, and they were feasted and made welcome, and they made gifts to the ’Unans and were given fine presents in return, and they traveled widely among ’Unans, and always they were welcome.

  Yet one day Rubee said to ’Anarilporot, “The hour approaches when we must leave, for we wish to come to our home on the fourteenth day of Strrrl.” But certain wise ’Unans sought to discourage the departure, for they had heard the whisper of the Master of Chaos. But Rubee was firm, and set forth as he had decided, and he was accompanied not only by his selfing Awnlee but by ’Anarilporot, even as in past times Erell and Awtell were accompanied by Porsa of Sa. And there was great friendship among these three, and especially between ’Anarilporot and Awnlee, so that Rubee claimed ‘Anarilporot as his selfing in the second degree of adoption. And Rubee made the beginning of the story of the Friendship of Awnlee, which now is lost; yet in truth it is the same as the story of the Journey of Rubee.

  And when the Far-Flying Bird had been on its journey only shortly, certain ’Unans came and took away the gifts made to Rubee and Awnlee, and they killed Rubee and Awnlee in the sight of ’Anarilporot, who grieved for them and grieves for them and will always grieve for them. And ’Anarilporot also would have died, except that the Master of Chaos was present, and because of certain things ’Anarilporot said to the ’Unans with the Master’s encouragement, they did not kill her, but took her away from the Far-Flying Bird. And nonetheless she would have died, but she was saved by certain other ’Unans who were enemies of those who had killed Rubee and Awnlee.

  In time ’Anarilporot came to Uskos without Rubee and Awnlee, but with the ’Unans who had saved her, and also with gifts w
hich the Master had placed ready to her hand. Yet when she came to the land of Ell, ’Anarilporot was received without courtesy, and concluded therefore that the Master of Chaos had come before her; yet where is the Master not present? And so the story of the Journey of Rubee, which is also the story of the Friendship of Awnlee, and yet also the story of the Fate of ’Anarilporot, is not ended; for its ending lies in the hand of the Master of Chaos, which even now moves to write it.

  Past Norsa and the other beings who examined Hanna, there was a window. While daylight remained she could see the towers of the City of the Center through it. Later, when it became dark, the tops of the towers were still visible; they were illuminated at night, and hung in the black sky like a fleet holding steadfast over the city.

  She answered every question that was put to her without hesitation or evasion. She was not allowed to ask any in return. “Later, perhaps,” Norsa said, “if we are satisfied.” He asked most of the questions, but the others also participated; they were, Hanna recognized, a committee.

  Night deepened, came to its turning, and began the slow progress toward morning. The persons of the committee melted away one by one. Hanna was given food and drink, but they did not interest her. She began to feel the weight of exhaustion in every muscle; she kept her head upright with conscious effort. There was weariness in Norsa’s face as well. At last there were pauses between questions, and the pauses grew longer—and in them Hanna saw that the tension attending her presence had eased. Therefore during one halt she said, “I wish to offer only cooperation; yet I do not understand the reason for this sparse welcome. Since first we met in the wildlands I have known there is in you hostility and mistrust. This was not what Rubee gave me to expect, and therefore I knew that the Master had come here before me; but the shape of this occurrence is not clear.”

  Norsa regarded her with caution. He answered, however, “Other ’Unans came here before you.”

  She let out breath in a little puff. Now that her fear was confirmed she was nearly too tired to react. Yet she must start now, with Norsa and the Polity’s representatives, to insist on her rights of kinship—though in the face of this reception, they seemed dubious.

  “Where are the other ’Unans?” she said. “It is necessary that I speak with them.” Absurd that they had not come seeking her!

  “They are gone,” Norsa said. “I do not know where they have gone.”

  “Gone?” She did not understand him. “When will they return?”

  “I do not think they will return,” he said in a curious tone.

  Of course they would. “Why did they go?” she said.

  “Their reasons were excellent.”

  Hanna said, “I feel that I play the Game of Scant Deduction. Will you speak to me plainly? I have made it clear that we are not the official representatives of our people, and I have had the thought that those representatives might have preceded us here; yet you have asked many questions which those persons would have answered fully, and in your description of their actions I perceive anomalies.”

  “Those who came said they were official representatives,” Norsa said doubtfully. “Yet they did not behave as we expected such representatives to behave. Also they said that ’Anarilporot was dead.”

  He rose and went out of the room, leaving Hanna to the care of guards. She was groggy with fatigue and was not sure she had heard his last words right; what she thought he had said made no sense.

  All the other persons of the committee had gone away to bed. Two silent guards were left; perhaps they always worked at night, because they did not seem tired, but regarded Hanna with lively interest. If she moved aggressively, though, no doubt they would react quickly enough.

  Norsa came back with a small enameled box in his changing hands. He put the box down in front of Hanna and opened it and took something out. “Do you know what this is?” he asked.

  She stared at the golden cylinder with its ring of jewels at the top. She knew what it was but rejected the notion; it was preposterous. She put out her hand and Norsa gave the thing to her. She looked at the engraving and saw that she had been right in the first place.

  “But this is mine! Rubee gave it to me! How did you—? It must have been the official party who came and—”

  An explosive memory rose into her mind, shocking her so that she transmitted it to Norsa without warning. Half unconscious, she lay stunned with loss while a thin man reached for the circlet of jewels—

  “They came?” She was incredulous. “Those who murdered Rubee and Awnlee?”

  “That is how it appears,” Norsa said. He added, “Please do not startle me like that!”

  “I regret…” The words of apology came by themselves; it was hard to absorb the truth. Norsa regarded her calmly, though with some wariness, as if he expected her to fling another memory of violence at his head.

  She said, “This gives me great amazement, Norsa. Now I know why you did not give us any welcome. These persons may have behaved grievously. Will you tell me of their acts?”

  Norsa debated within himself, and Hanna saw that he was about to embark on a catalog of grievances. She waited with considerable apprehension.

  Norsa said at last, “We made them welcome. There were doubts from the first. They did not ask the questions that would be expected of beings come first to a new world; yet we had no experience with such beings, and thought our expectations perhaps were wrong. Nor did they wish to answer questions; I have learned more in this night with you than in many days with them. And when they had been here for a time, at the end, they set about destruction. They took precious goods from Ell and also from other lands. In this endeavor they destroyed all that was in their way; and at the last, in the burning of a great costumerie, several hapless persons who labored in that place were killed.”

  Norsa had seen some of the destruction at first hand. Hanna saw it now in his thoughts. She bowed her head.

  “After they did those things…” Norsa looked at the object in Hanna’s hands. “There is the course,” he said. “It was evident that we must set forth and follow it, and at the end find out their reasons. But we have not yet done anything, because there has been much discussion of what we might find. Some among us have said: ‘Withdraw; give up space; stay at home!’ Others have said: ‘We must have vengeance, and assert our honor and vigor!’ And others have said, ‘These persons in the depths of space know of our existence, and also our whereabouts; and so, if we do not seek them out, they will continue to seek us.’ And still others have answered, ‘Indeed that is true, and they will prey on us.’ And so we have debated, and done nothing. Yet perhaps now that you have come, you can tell us the motive for these events, which we do not understand.”

  Hanna was vividly reminded of Rubee. She could have wept.

  She said, “I do not know the reason. Perhaps they wish to sell the precious things they took, as surely they meant to do with the gifts which were taken from the Far-Flying Bird. I do not know how they could sell them, or where, for already they are hunted by the true representatives of human beings for their actions on the Far-Flying Bird. They would have to go to a far place indeed, far from law; and there is no place so far as to evade human law, not in a matter such as this. There can be no escape for them, Norsa. It must seem to you that humans have little regard for law; do not even my own actions, as I have described them to you, indicate so? But indeed there is in humans a great impulse toward law, and the humans who did these things will be found and, at the least, confined. But I cannot tell you more than that, because I do not know any more.”

  She spoke with her thought as well as her tongue, and when she was finished she saw that her simple honesty had convinced Norsa. They had come to an understanding at last. There were no more difficulties in the way.

  But Norsa said, incredibly, “One of those who came before is still here.”

  “Still here?” she repeated.

  “One of those who came remained behind. Was it by his choice? Was it
by the will of another? I do not know. I have been unable to determine the truth. None of those persons spoke any Uskosian tongue, but used devices which translated their words into those of Ell, and the language of Ell into words they understood. They took all the devices away with them, and we have not been able to ask questions of the one who remained behind.”

  “I must see him,” said Hanna in a dream.

  “Immediately.”

  They went out into the night. The guards accompanied them; Norsa might be softening, but he was not a fool. It was summer in the City of the Center, and night closed around Hanna like warm water. The air was clean and before she got into a shiny vehicle with Norsa and her guards, she stopped and breathed deeply. She had been in space too long. The air of a living world caressed her cheeks. In her weariness she could have fallen asleep in the gentle night, floating in it.

  Yet as they rode through the quiet streets, and she thought about what she was doing, her chest was tight. Which of the men of the Avalon would it be? Not Castillo, surely; more likely a man he had deliberately abandoned. It could not be Juel, whom she had killed. One down: the palm of her hand itched. She wished for a weapon. Not a stunner; something deadly.

  They drew up before a great building which looked just like the one they had left, and walked through its spacious galleries. Norsa spoke and Hanna answered at random, until they stopped before a door and he said, “Have you too much weariness? You do not hear all I say.”

  “It is not weariness.”

  “Ah?”

  “It is rage.”

  “Rage? Why?”

  “It is because of a thing that was done to me. I wish to kill,” she said honestly. “I may kill this human, Norsa.”

  Norsa said, “We will not let you kill this creature. If that is your desire, I will not even let you see him.”

  She wondered where her sense of civilized behavior had gone. Then she thought: I will be civilized. I will not kill him now, whichever it is. That would be an insult to Norsa. I will kill him later.