Acorna's Triumph

by Anne McCaffrey

  “You have translated the strange signals? What sort of language is that?” she asked.

  “It isn’t a language, Acorna. It is song. Specifically, it is the sort of song known in some cultures as a lament, although that terminology is usually, but not exclusively, applied to vocalizations of actual words.”

  “Is it coming from instruments, then?” she asked.

  “No—it is vocalized, but uses the voice as an instrument, expressing sounds that have no actual linguistic meaning but fit into a melodic pattern.”

  “Oh! Like the Singing Stones of Skarness.”

  Becker looked smug. “Exactly like the Singing Stones of Skarness, in fact. Mac matched the tonal qualities and determined that they were basically identical.”

  “Where is Skarness?” Maati asked. “I know we have some of the stones in Kubiilikhan. Those stones luckily escaped damage when the Khleevi attacked. And Hafiz has some stones, too.”

  “The truth is,” Becker told her, “that nobody really knows the truth about where Skarness is. The stones are very valuable trade items, but the trades take place in such a way that the origin of the stones has never been discovered. I suppose it’s for the same reason that your people don’t let many others know about your horns. If people knew what they could do, before long galactic hunters would kill the goose that laid the golden egg.”

  “Wait!” Maati said. “What are geese?”

  Becker paused long enough to explain the analogy to her. “It’s another of those Old Terran things. Geese were a largish fowl, actually wild at one point but in latter days mostly domesticated. They laid eggs—that’s how they had their young. Eggs shaped like your spacecraft.”

  “But the Singing Stones aren’t shaped like the spacecraft,” Maati said.

  “No. And geese didn’t lay the stones. Wait a minute. You’re confusing me now. What it means to say ‘killing the goose that laid the golden egg’ is that if you have something that generates a lot of income, like the goose, killing it cuts off the source of income and is therefore a…uh…no-no.”

  “So the people who live where the stones are don’t allow anyone else to know so they won’t take all the stones away?” Maati asked.

  “You got it.”

  Neeva looked pensive, her fingers twiddling at her chin. “I’ve never heard of the stones being able to sing loudly enough to broadcast into space, Captain Becker.”

  “Me, neither. But ancient Terran lore also tells us that rock songs were often very loud and could be heard a long way—”

  He was unable to finish the sentence because of the gasping and giggling sounds that Acorna, who was the only one in the room with enough knowledge of ancient Terran culture to get the joke, made in answer to his pun.

  “Gotcha,” he said with a pleased grin.

  “Indeed,” she said, straightening up and continuing to explain more seriously. “The thing is, Maati, so far as I know, the people who have actually had the stones only have them in small groups of maybe two dozen. If the stones’ song was emanating from their planet of origin, there would be many more stones singing in unison. The sounds are coming from the area we laced with subspace amplifiers. We’ve never had receivers in that sector of space before.”

  The MOO intercom receiver switched itself on, and Karina Harakamian’s face appeared. “I couldn’t help overhearing, my dears,” she said. Obviously, she had been using Hafiz’s security surveillance equipment, which was separate from the com center’s, to eavesdrop. “And I must tell you, the truth is obvious to me. The blessed Singing Stones might have been singing their hearts out long before this for all we know, but they never tried to sing loudly enough to be heard until the sacred catseye chrysoberyls of Makahomia were deposited in close enough proximity that the Singing Stones felt the emanations from their fellow sacred stones. They are not singing to us; they are singing to the chrysoberyls, and the amplifiers are simply intercepting and transmitting the song as we wished them to intercept and transmit other outside signals affecting the chrysoberyls.”

  Becker sent another mental message to Acorna. (I have been in this quadrant entirely too long. She’s beginning to make a weird kind of sense to me.)

  “Mac?” Acorna asked. “Could that be the case?”

  “I am not programmed to divine the motivations of stones, Acorna, but it is as likely a conjecture as any, I suppose, though expressed in very unscientific terms.”

  “You do what you do very well, MacKenZ,” Karina said somewhat condescendingly, using Mac’s full self-chosen name as an adult might use the full given name of someone else’s child to indicate that they knew to whom they were speaking and from whence the speaker came, just in case the speaker would have preferred to remain anonymous. “But you have not the seasoned sensitivities of those of us who have received true enlightenment. No one would expect you to understand. Dear friends, now that we know who is lamenting, the question is, what are we going to do about it?”

  Hafiz appeared beside her. “What is the matter under discussion?” he asked in a businesslike tone.

  “It is quite all right, my darling,” Karina said. “We have intercepted sad sacred songs and I have fathomed the source of the problem and—”

  “Please, my curvaceous kumquat, I require an answer phrased in terms that may be understood by those of us who operate on a less elevated plane than that which you frequent,” he told her, offering her a chocolate tidbit to occupy her busy mouth if not her enlightened mind.

  Acorna filled him in and turned up the volume on the receiver so he could hear the song for himself.

  Large tears fell from his eyes, and he whipped out an exquisite silk handkerchief and blew his nose, waving for them to turn the sound down again. “Aiee, that is the saddest thing it has ever been my misfortune to hear. My friends, I think that my beloved is correct as usual. We must learn the cause of the stones’ sadness—and their location as well, of course—and relieve their distress.”

  As he was speaking, the door to the communications center irised open and Rafik stepped through. “Any word from…?” he began, but was struck dumb by the sight of his wily uncle weeping to the sad song wailing through the other receiver.

  “O, son of my heart, you have arrived in time to undertake a mission of mystery and possibly mercy,” Hafiz said. He summarized the situation as he understood it.

  After which, Rafik said, “I understand, Uncle. A mission of mystery, mercy, and possibly an incidental monetary reward? Possibly an exclusive trade agreement for House Harakamian if we manage to be helpful in this matter to the stones or those who control them?”

  Hafiz turned to Karina, beaming. “Did I not tell you that this boy is astute? Sharp as a saber, keen as a bridegroom on his wedding night. “

  Rafik left that line alone and returned to the matter at hand. “So I am to rescue these rocks, Uncle?”

  “Yes, dear boy. Discover their whereabouts—perhaps the excellent Captain Becker and his estimable eclectic scanner array might provide assistance once more?”

  “You betcha,” Becker said. RK was pacing quickly and with precise delicacy across the console. For once, he did not set paw to any key that would have disrupted the proceedings. He merely walked from Becker on the one side to Rafik and back again. Maati reached out to tweak the cat’s tail and received a stern look warning her that he was working now and so his tail was to be left strictly alone to play its part in his concentration.

  “When you have located the source of the stones, you will have the more difficult task of learning the source of their distress and why it is they have seen fit to broadcast it for all the universe to hear. I can only imagine that the cause must be most grave for them to sing so loudly that anyone—even someone unscrupulous who might take advantage of the situation—might hear them.”

  Rafik turned his head slightly away from the com screen and with the eye not visible to the screen winked at Acorna. “The reason for your tears now is clear to me, Uncle. Not only do the Singing
Stones enlist your sympathy with their song, but you also fear for their safety. We will mount an expedition at once. Captain Becker, Mac, I, and of course Acorna, if she wishes to go…”

  Acorna nodded. She did indeed wish to see the home of the famous Singing Stones of Skarness.

  “Perhaps it would be wise to have other Linyaari with us as well,” Rafik said. “The stones may be lamenting some injury or illness that affects them. In that eventuality, the presence of healers would be most efficacious.”

  “As it has been said, so let it be done, O son of my heart,” Hafiz agreed.

  Which was how the Balakiire and her crew joined the Condor as it retraced the course to the world of the sulfur beings, which Becker had dubbed Planet PU-#10.

  Nine

  En Route to the Sulfur Planet,

  Present Time

  Acorna, Mac, and Becker spent much of the trip modifying their sensors to pick up auditory signals, especially those of the sort made by the Singing Stones of Skarness.

  “That way we can backtrack the signal,” Becker said. “We tune the scanners to the frequency of the songs the amps picked up, and rig our sensor so that instead of someone else telling where we are by bouncing sound off us, we can tell where the source of the stone is by the way the sound bounces back from us to it.”

  “You and my new aunt have a gift for scientific discourse,” Rafik said.

  “Up your exhaust, Nadezda,” Becker replied.

  Traversing the galaxy containing the sulfur world, the Condor passed one burned-out devastated husk of a planet after another. Acorna felt oddly cold. The eerie song emanating from the stones didn’t help.

  “Geez,” Becker said. “This place gives me the creeps. It’s like a ghost galaxy!”

  Rafik hailed the Habibi and was visibly relieved when Aziza appeared on the screen. Her eyes were wide and a trifle wild-looking. “Is that nasty sulfur world the only live planet in this galaxy?” she asked.

  “Looks like it,” he said. “The Khleevi passed it by for some reason.”

  “Hah!” Aziza said. “They probably forgot they hadn’t been there already, since it looks even more inhospitable than the ruined ones.”

  “It is,” Rafik said. “I can guarantee that. Under no circumstances should you try to land.”

  “You did,” she said.

  “You didn’t see me before Acorna healed me. Those creatures shoot sulfuric acid first and don’t bother asking questions later. Just be alert for the signal that Smythe-Wesson is returning and let us know.”

  “I don’t believe we will be too far away,” Acorna said, checking the scanner array. “I’ve been calculating the time it will take us to reach Skarness, according to the sonar tables Mac provided. It may be the next planet in this solar system, though it could be a moon, I suppose. Still, the impression I’m getting is of a larger mass than that of a mere satellite.”

  Aziza and Rafik exchanged a few more remarks, but their usual joking banter was somewhat damped down by the bleakness of this sector of the galaxy.

  When Rafik signed off it was with a heavy sigh and a troubled expression. Acorna hailed the Balakiire and checked her calculations with Melireenya’s.

  “It does seem to be rather close,” Melireenya said, scratching the base of her horn thoughtfully with her stylus. “But I don’t see how that can be. According to the readings we’ve been getting on the surrounding planets, moons, and even asteroids, everything here is completely lifeless—no plant or animal life anywhere. The Khleevi were very thorough.”

  “They missed the sulfur world,” Acorna said. “So they may have missed something else, too. And, as Karina pointed out, we’re dealing with mineral-based life-forms in the case of the sulfur people, minerals in the Makahomian catseyes, and minerals with the Singing Stones. Perhaps if there was nothing but mineral substance to deal with on a planet, the Khleevi simply ignored it. Minerals, in my experience anyway, don’t exhibit the sort of fear the Khleevi use to feed their Young.”

  “Maybe,” said Neeva, who had been listening in also. “But from what you say of the sulfur beings, I would wonder if they wouldn’t be more than a match for the Khleevi. Maybe the Khleevi realized it and steered clear.”

  “Maybe—” Acorna said, then she, Becker, and Rafik in unison said, “Naaaah.”

  Had it not been for what Becker dubbed “the trail of wail,” they would have missed their target altogether. It was, as Acorna had surmised, the next planet from the nearest sun, but it showed no more sign of life than any of the Khleevi-wrecked rocks they had passed already.

  Acorna, however, knew at once that it was the right place, for she felt the particular mineral composition of the Singing Stones immediately. And she also knew that this planet had definitely not escaped the Khleevi. It showed the same sort of devastation as the others.

  The keening of the stones seemed to escalate as the Condor and the Balakiire approached orbit, though Becker turned the volume of his com systems down to the minimum. The songs were so loud now that they didn’t need Becker’s sensitive equipment to be heard.

  “All right already!” Becker bellowed, sticking his fingers in his ears. RK, who had begun running wildly around the deck, bouncing off the bulkheads as the volume grew, now burrowed his head into Becker’s armpit, his coat and tail so puffed up it caused him to resemble a porcupine more than a cat.

  “This reminds me of the stories of sirens luring ancient mariners onto the rocks,” Rafik told Acorna nervously. “Except in reverse. The sadness dragged me here. But the noise now makes me want to turn and run.”

  “We cannot land,” Mac pointed out. “And we must go no closer. If we approach the planet too closely, the sonic waves it is projecting may fatally damage any organic parts among the landing party. Except for myself, this crew is entirely made up of organic parts.”

  “Good point,” Acorna said. The same thought had occurred to her.

  Even telepathic communication was difficult, so thoroughly did the wailing fill the air, bombarding not only their ears but also all of their other senses.

  “Geez, this is worse than the jungle drums in those old ‘bwana’ vids,” Becker complained.

  “Another good point, Captain,” Mac said. He alone was able to maintain a conversational tone in the cacophony surrounding them. “Studies of ancient indigenous cultures which rely on magical ceremonies have shown that such drumming blocks the alpha waves of the brain, making the listeners far more susceptible to suggestion than they would otherwise be.”

  “I suggest they shut up. If they don’t shut up, I suggest we leave,” Becker snapped.

  Acorna hailed the Balakiire, which took some time to answer since all aboard were also preoccupied with the wailing coming from the planet below. Her friends clustered onto the screen, their pained expressions a mirror of her own.

  “We need to let whoever is singing—or whatever is singing—know that we’re here to help, but that we can’t come any closer if they don’t stop,” Acorna said.

  Melireenya nodded, as did Neeva and the other Linyaari.

  “Pity we don’t know the language,” Thariinye said.

  “Send emotions,” Neeva suggested. “Compassion, a wish to heal, but fear for one’s own safety as well.”

  Becker, who had been straining to listen, closed his eyes and grasped Acorna’s hand with his free one, “Works for me. Princess, grab on to your daddy. Rafik, take her hand and let’s do a thinkathon that would make Aunt Karina proud.”

  Acorna had to smile. Becker, like Mac, had begun to consider himself an honorary Linyaari. She joined minds with those aboard the Balakiire, lifting the thoughts of her shipmates and transmitting them as well, broadcasting the emotions and intentions as clearly as she possibly could.

  She concentrated so totally that she wasn’t sure when exactly the singing stopped, but she slowly became aware that RK had withdrawn his face from Becker’s underarm and was thoughtfully washing a forepaw. The cat caught her staring, and looked up at he
r as if to say, “What?”

  Becker opened his eyes and looked to the right and the left, and said, “Yippee! We did it. They listened. They really did. I guess that means they want us to land.”

  Acorna shuddered slightly. She had heard the saying that you couldn’t get blood from a stone, but it wouldn’t have surprised her if these Singing Stones literally were bleeding from the tone and volume of that song.

  The Condor set down, the robolift descended, and the crew members stepped tentatively out onto the planet’s ruined surface.

  A spiderweb of pain seemed to spread itself across the ground. Acorna saw the devastation, as she had on so many other planets, but here she sensed the pain and grief of separation from each fragment of stone. Which seemed odd since normally stones were themselves chipped off of larger deposits and ought to be—well, used to it. But the Singing Stones of Skarness were very sensitive instruments.

  Still, it was hard to believe anything on this field of splintered rock could make a noise, much less sing, much less communicate telepathically. And yet, the singing had stopped in response to the telepathic message.

  Even so, her mind reeled with the force of the now unsung anguish. Her knees buckled, and she slipped down among the shards of stone.

  Once these stones had been formed and tuned in tall columns, each column a family, surrounded by the other columns who were the members of its community, hundreds of thousands of them stretched along the vast coastal areas of the planet. Once there had been a curling ocean, and when individual stones left each family as the result of wind or erosion or simply gravity, they formed stepping-stones leading into the waters. The beach and the floor of the ocean were composed of these individual stones, which in time piled one upon the other, singing new songs and forming new colonies. The colonies spawned harmonic units such as those found in Hafiz’s gardens and at the center of Kubiilikhan on narhii-Vhiliinyar. These colonies were harvested from their resting places tenderly, respectfully, and appreciatively by other beings.