“We don’t know if that’s why they came back,” she said.
“What can we do? Once they talk to the mind, they’ll know where we’ve gone. With those ships, they could follow us easily enough.” He looked around frantically. “The only chance we have is to get as far away in that craft as we can.”
“But the mind said that it probably can’t go very far.”
“It might still get us to a place where we could hide,” he said.
“And then what? How do we live? I don’t think we’d last very long.”
“They might think we’re dead already,” he said. “They’ll find out what happened to the gardener. They might believe we died on the plain. That could give us some time.”
Perhaps they wanted Earth for their kind; more of their people might come here. Llipel had promised that no harm would come to them, but maybe that promise was already forgotten, as Llipel’s memories of her own past had been. Their guardians might not even be here now; they might have preferred to let others carry out any judgment.
“No,” Nita said at last. “We can’t hide. We didn’t know what we’d find out here, but we got through it. At least we can show them we’re not afraid anymore. We have to go back.”
He frowned. “They won’t be expecting us to return in a craft. We still have our weapons. We could try to fight for ourselves, even if we don’t have much of a chance.”
“But we don’t know for certain why they returned. Until we do, shouldn’t we go to them peacefully? Otherwise, we’ll just be proving that all their worst suspicions about our people are true.”
“We know what our people were.”
“And I won’t be like them,” she said firmly. “I’ll resist it as long as I can. Let’s face them there instead of waiting for them to find us.”
She helped him to his feet and led him toward the craft.
17
The craft glided over the trees, then dropped slowly toward the ground as it neared the Institute. Three alien ships stood in front of the steps that led into the lobby. The craft landed next to them; Nita opened the door, climbed out of the vehicle, and held out her arm to Sven.
“You’re sure you don’t want to fight,” Sven said.
“I’m sure.” She put her arms around his waist for a moment, then released him. He leaned on his stick as they walked toward the tower.
They climbed the steps. Sven was no longer favoring his ankle; perhaps he had forgotten his pain. The door in front of them opened; they entered the lobby.
Six creatures were sitting on the floor, surrounded by small containers of their strange foods. Nita stiffened; her mouth was dry, and her hands felt cold. The six quickly rose to their feet in the same graceful, boneless way her guardian had moved. Two had dark-brown fur, three others were tawny, and one was nearly white; Llipel and Llare were not among them. She nearly despaired, then noticed that their hands were empty, their claws retracted. They had no weapons.
“Greetings,” Nita said, afraid to hope. Perhaps their weapons were hidden, and they could still use their claws. “We’ve come back, but I don’t suppose it would have done us any good to hide.”
Their black eyes gazed blankly at her. “I don’t think they know our words,” Sven whispered. One of the dark-furred ones motioned with an arm; Nita took a step back. The alien beckoned to her once more, then began to move toward the door that led to the garden. Nita and Sven followed. The door opened; the alien stepped aside, apparently wanting them to enter the garden alone.
They stepped through; the door slid shut. “Maybe they’re going to keep us here for a while,” Sven muttered.
“They haven’t taken our authorizations away.” She wondered if that meant anything. She touched her weapon, then let her arm fall.
They had taken only a few steps along the path when she saw her cat. Dusky was lying under a shrub, almost invisible in the evening shadows. It took her a moment to understand what the four tiny, furry bodies at Dusky’s side meant.
“She’s had children.” She knelt as the small creatures mewed and squirmed. “I never thought—”
“We could have guessed it might happen,” Sven said. Two of the kittens had orange markings; a third was gray and another gray and white. Tanj was prowling nearby; he suddenly hissed as his ears flattened.
Nita stood up quickly. Llipel and Llare were hurrying toward them along the path. “Nita,” Llipel said. “Sven. The mind has shown us much—we were to begin our search for you. I feared we might not find you, but now you are here.”
Sven tensed and drew back, holding his stick in front of him. “I told you I would not forget,” Llipel continued. “Can it be that you have forgotten us?” Nita huddled closer to Sven. “Have you forgotten that we promised no harm would come to you?”
Nita stepped toward her guardian. Llipel’s arms were around her; Nita pressed her face against the familiar furred body.
“When our time came for knowing,” Llipel said, “a time of fear for you both came as well. Our people knew then that we would have to return, but did not know if you would welcome us again.”
“We were afraid—” Nita was ashamed of the distrust she had felt. “We didn’t know—” She hugged Llipel more tightly, but a change had come over her guardian. Llipel’s body seemed stiff, as if she was holding Nita only because such a gesture was expected. Her words were soothing, but had been delivered in a cold and distant voice.
Sven lowered his stick and took Llare’s furred hand cautiously. “Are you hurt?” Llare asked. “You are not standing as you did. Should you be tended?”
Sven shook his head. “That can wait. We were looking for our people. A craft came to the Institute, and we thought—”
“We know,” Llare replied. “The mind showed us images of your journey and told us its purpose. But you did not need to seek your people outside. There is much to tell you—you will know of your kind at last.”
“We found out about our people,” Sven said. “They’re all dead, just as you told us. We’re the only ones left.”
“It is not so.” Llare took the boy’s arm and guided him toward the pool, where three globes of light stood on the tiles. Nita followed with Llipel; Sven eased himself onto a bench while the others sat on the tiles in front of him.
“You will learn about your people now,” Llipel said. She glanced toward the east wing. “A visitor has come here with us.”
Nita turned her head. The door to the east wing opened as a stranger entered the garden.
The visitor had no fur. That was the first detail Nita noticed. She was looking at a human form clothed in a loose white garment that resembled a coverall. Pale, yellowish eyes gazed out at her from a golden-skinned face framed by short black hair.
The stranger walked toward them with an odd swaying gait. Nita was too startled to know what to do. Should she and Sven hold out their hands, as the images had done when demonstrating how to greet another? Did the visitor expect an embrace?
The stranger was shorter than Sven and not much taller than Nita. “Greetings,” Nita said, trying to smile; the visitor did not smile back. “Can you understand what I say?”
“Yes. I have a knowledge of this old tongue, though my own is quite changed.”
“Who are you?” Sven asked.
“You cannot see it? I am the descendant of those who once lived on this world.” The stranger spoke in the same toneless way the mind did when not speaking through an image, but there was also a slight slur in the words that reminded Nita of Llipel. “But perhaps you are asking what I am called. My name is Raen.”
The visitor sat down gingerly on the tiles. The being who had seemed human at a distance was more alien at close range. Nita could read no recognizable expression on Raen’s face; she could not even tell if she was looking at a man or a woman. She wondered if that was a question she should ask.
“But how can you be someone from Earth?” Sven asked. “They died long ago.”
“I am here. I live. We wil
l have to begin at the beginning if you are to understand.” A somewhat more human tone had entered the visitor’s voice. “I have spoken with the mind here. I have learned something about you both.”
“It is time to tell them of why we were sent,” Llare said.
“These two did not deceive you,” Raen continued, “when they told you that they came to Earth with no memory of their people. They came here with only the knowledge of their own speech, an impulse to explore, and a longing for some solitude. But ‘impulse’ and ‘longing’ are not the right words. ‘Compulsion’ is closer, but even that does not express it properly. They believed this world to be uninhabited, as did I.”
“But why were they sent?” Nita asked.
“It is their way,” Raen responded. “You see, there is much of what they call togetherness for their kind as they mature. They grow so close that the thoughts of one can almost mirror those of another. It is what they mean by a time for togetherness, but time for them is not as we view it. We see it as a road we walk upon—we cannot turn back physically, but we can recapture the past in memory, and these memories can be so vivid for us that, at least inside ourselves, we can become what we were for a brief moment. These people view time almost as a series of rooms— when they enter one, the doors to all the others are closed to them. They have their memories of past times, but they are as distant from them as a story told to you by another would be. Their time of separateness is one such time.”
“But why do they—” Sven started to say.
The visitor raised a hand. “I am coming to that.” Raen’s voice was slightly higher; Nita wondered what that meant. Annoyance? Impatience? She could not tell.
“These people,” Raen went on, “grow closer to one another as they mature. To have an early time of separateness allows them to know who they are before togetherness comes to them. If they did not have their solitude, they would grow too close to adapt to change or a new experience. Solitude allows each to bring a new perspective to all. It is why their young ones must spend a time on an uninhabited world, and come to know themselves.”
“Their young ones?” Nita gazed at Llare and Llipel; their dark eyes stared back at her calmly. She turned back to Raen. “Do you mean Llipel and Llare are young ones like us?”
“Yes. Their people believed this world was empty of intelligent life. I believed that to be so.” The stranger looked down for a moment. “But you were found. They were compelled to be separate, so they reared you separately—I do not suppose they could have done otherwise, and they had no experience to draw upon, being as young as they are. Do not think too unkindly of any mistakes they have made.”
Nita swallowed. She doubted that she would have done as well if she had been forced to care for a being unlike herself. She held out a hand to Llipel, then drew back. Perhaps her guardian was past the time when she might recapture whatever feelings she once had for Nita.
“What about you?” Sven said to Raen.
“We will come to that,” the visitor answered. “We are now speaking of the—” Nita heard a mewling word; she guessed that this sound was what Llipel’s people called themselves.
“Where is your world?” Sven asked Llare.
“Our people left it long ago.” Llare waved an arm. “We live in space, inside worldlets that roam the cosmos. It is the way of some other beings as well, who have broken the bonds holding them to their worlds. We have no need of planets now. We leave those that are homes to other intelligent beings alone. Our young ones go to uninhabited ones for separateness.”
Was the stranger now here to take the place of their guardians? Nita’s eyes narrowed as she studied Raen; she was not sure she would welcome that.
“We thought—” Nita forced herself to look directly at Llipel. “We thought you might have come here to make sure our people were gone, that when you’d learned more about us, you’d decide—”
“She’s saying we thought we might have to fight you,” Sven said, “or try to hide from you.”
“We cannot blame you for that,” Llipel said. “We acted as we were driven to do during our time here. I can see how you thought that we might have a hidden purpose.”
“How characteristic of human beings that is,” Raen said, “to be suspicious or anxious to fight.” The visitor’s voice had dropped to a murmur and the words were delivered through slightly curved lips. Was Raen bitter, amused, or simply stating a fact?
“What will you do?” Nita asked.
“I cannot say,” Llipel said. “This is a new time for us. Perhaps we will explore this world some more, or observe you for a little. Our time for togetherness is not yet fully upon us.” She rose as Llare got to his feet. “We must speak to those in the tower now. This is your world, Nita and Sven. You must say what will come. We cannot force you to let us stay.” The two began to walk toward the tower.
“And you?” Nita said to Raen. “Are you going to stay? Is that why you’re here?”
Tanj bounded toward them. The stranger gazed at the cat with an abstracted, empty stare. The orange cat curled up at Sven’s feet; his tail twitched as he watched Raen.
“Is there anything you’d like to see?” Sven asked.
“I have seen much of this place already.”
“We can take you outside, if you like,” Sven said. “We could even show you a little of the forest.”
“That is not necessary.”
Was the stranger afraid of what was outside, or simply indifferent to it? Nita watched as Raen plucked a blade of grass near one tile, studied it, then let it float to the ground.
“We found a failing mind outside, far from here,” Nita said. “It told us everyone was dead, that it hadn’t seen any of our people until we came there. But you’re here. What happened? How did you live? Are you the only one?”
Raen’s yellowish eyes gazed steadily at her. “I am not the only one. Others live.”
“But how?” Raen’s passivity was disturbing; perhaps the stranger was sorry to be here at all.
“Earth was in ruins,” Raen replied, “its lands and air poisoned. There were many ways to destroy—it did not take long for Earth to die. But some people, a few, had already moved into space and were dwelling in structures orbiting this world. They might have joined the battle. Some of them wanted to strike at those they saw as their enemies, take revenge for all who had died by fighting others in space. But most of the survivors saw that there was no purpose in continuing the war.”
“But why didn’t they travel back to Earth?” Sven said.
“The sight of their ravaged world was painful. They did not see how any of their kind could have survived. They left this solar system to wander space, and their sorrow passed, but they felt shame at what their kind had done. They did not reach out to other beings—not to those who traveled space, and not to any on other worlds. The survivors of Earth did not want them to learn of Earth’s past.”
Nita folded her arms, knowing that she would have to ask another question. “These people,” she said hesitantly, “did they ever fight again?”
“They feared that they might,” Raen replied. “It is why we are no longer as we were. Many of us live as nodes of consciousness in the lattices of the minds that control our habitats. We sail on the sea of space and drink the power of other suns. We explore and we learn. We are not what we were, what you are. You may think of your guardians’ people as strange, but our thoughts would be stranger to you still.”
“But if you didn’t reach out to others,” Sven said, “then why are you here with Llare and Llipel?”
“When we changed ourselves, we lost our shame. We had shed the taint of the past. We were able to reach out then. These people are the first to whom we have reached out, and I have been dwelling among them to learn what I can of them. I am one of those who lives in a body such as this, and is not yet linked fully to the mind of my own habitat. You see, I am a young one, too.”
Raen’s people had turned away from what they had once been
. Had the visitor come here to tell them that there was no hope for Nita and Sven as they were now? She could not imagine becoming like Raen, yet the visitor had implied that there was something wrong with her as she was. Raen did not seem young to her; the yellowish eyes looked old, almost weary.
“The time for Llipel and Llare’s solitude had come when their habitat reached this planetary system,” Raen murmured. “I was able to assure their people that no intelligent beings dwelled here, for that was what I believed. I was pleased that the world of my ancestors could be of some use to their kind.”
“Is that all you felt?” Sven asked.
“Should I have felt anything else?”
Nita longed to provoke Raen into a recognizably human response; the visitor’s remote tone made her feel more isolated than ever. “What will your people do,” she said, “when they find out about us?”
“They will be gratified to know you are here,” the visitor answered. “But they will not return. This planet is your world now.”
“For how long?” Sven poked at the ground with his stick. “Nita and I are the only ones left.”
“But you are not,” Raen said. “There are the embryos in the cryonic facility, are there not?”
“We could revive them?” Nita was silent for a moment. “And what if they only repeat our people’s actions? What if we destroy this world again?”
“That capacity is within you, but also the ability to turn away from such actions.”
“Really?” Sven flushed as he spoke; his hand trembled on his stick. “I haven’t seen much evidence of that. They couldn’t stop fighting even when they saw their world dying, and the ones who survived ran away. I don’t know why you think we’d be any better.”
“But you can make this world what it might have been,” Raen said. “And perhaps your descendants will eventually join us in space, but they might do so not as survivors of a dead world but as representatives of a world reborn.”
Nita lowered her eyes. She should have been feeling joy at knowing that some of her people had lived, and that there was now a purpose to her life and Sven’s. They could have companions, and perhaps even their own children, to teach. But she felt the weight of that responsibility. How could she and Sven take this upon themselves? How many mistakes might they make, and how many of the ones whom they brought into existence would fail? What could they possibly tell others of their kind about Earth’s people? Only that they had unleashed violence upon themselves, and that the few survivors had fled from their past. She and Sven might not overcome their own darker instincts; they might live to see their world threatened again.
Alien Child Page 17
