Code Of The Lifemaker

by Hogan, James

Zambendorf somehow knew formed the Taloid world as seen through Taloid eyes any

  more than they could the human world as seen through human eyes. Both worlds

  were illusions created from the raw material of photons, pressure waves, and

  other forms of primary sensory stimuli, which were processed into abstract

  symbols and assembled via two forms of nervous system, one biochemical, the

  other holotronic, into consciously experienced interactions of people, places,

  and things. As external realities, the people, the places, and the things

  existed only as bare frameworks onto which minds projected covering, form,

  warmth, color, and other attributes which the minds themselves created; thus

  each mind manufactured its own illusory world upon a minimum of shared reality

  to conform to its own set of culturally defined expectations, and in such a way

  as to appear satisfyingly real in total to its creator. Zambendorf, the

  illusionist, could understand it all clearly. But, he could see just as clearly,

  he would never be able to convey what he understood to the three men sitting

  with him in the executive lounge of the Orion. "Suppose I decide I don't want to

  get involved with it," he said at last, looking up at them. "Then what?"

  "Is that a decision?" Leaherney asked him.

  "No. I'm just curious."

  Lang answered. "We'd manage anyhow, either with your cooperation or without it.

  But from your point of view it wouldn't be too smart. The people who sent you

  all this way at considerable expense would be pretty upset about it. And they do

  have a lot of influence with the media . . ." Lang shook his head slowly and

  clicked his tongue. "You could find it's the end of the road for you, old buddy.

  And that'd be a shame, wouldn't it?"

  25

  GOYDEROOCH, HEADROBEING OF THE VILLAGE OF XERXEON, STOOD with Casquedin, the

  village prayer and beseecher, in front of a huddle of elders and watched

  apprehensively as the column of royal cavalry filed slowly into the square. The

  soldiers and their mounts were covered with dust and looked as if they had

  ridden from Pergassos without stopping, which indicated that their mission was

  urgent. The colors carried by the pennant-bearer were those of the captain,

  Horazzorgio, who had passed through Xerxeon over five brights previously in

  pursuit ofDornvald the outlaw, Bringer-of-Sky-Dragons. Horazzorgio was missing

  an arm and had one eye covered, Goyderooch saw as the lead riders crossed the

  square and drew up before him. His synchronizing oscillator missed a pulse.

  Perhaps Dornvald's small band had been the bait to lure the King's soldiers into

  ambush by a larger force out in the Meracasine. If so, had Horazzorgio

  interpreted Goyderooch's readiness to indicate the direction taken by the

  outlaws as proof of the village's complicity in the plot and returned now to

  deliver his retribution? The fear that Goyderooch sensed from behind told him

  that the thoughts were not his alone.

  "May the Lifemaker protect the King," Horazzorgio pronounced.

  "Let it be so," the villagers returned dutifully.

  "We are truly honored to welcome the King's Guards to our humble village,"

  Goyderooch said, extending his arms palms-upward. "Whatever services it is

  within our power to render shall be thine. Thou hast but to name thy need and

  utter thy request."

  Horazzorgio cast his eye over them with contempt. "Yes," he said menacingly.

  "You would do well to remember me with respect, farmers. With great pleasure

  would I repay the debt that I owe the village of Xerxeon."

  "A twelvefold curse upon Dornvald, the betrayer!" Goyderooch exclaimed,

  trembling. "Truly were we deceived by his cunning. Oh, had we but known of the

  fate that awaited thee! Believest thou not that we would have warned thee?"

  "Pah! Enough sniveling," Horazzorgio snorted. "Do you dream for one moment that

  Dornvald's rabble of tinplate riveters would be match for a King's troop? These

  afflictions that you see were not the work of any mere robeing."

  "Then what manner of—"

  "The sky demons that appeared over Xerxeon," Horazzorgio said. "They are

  congregating in Carthogia, whither they come to aid Kleippur, servant of the

  Dark Master." Eskenderom, the Kroaxian King, did not want it made known to his

  people that he was treating with the luminous liquid creatures who had come from

  beyond the sky. It was important that the mystic whom Eskenderom intended to

  install as High Priest in place of Frennelech—and whom the soldiers had been

  sent to Xerxeon to find and take back to Pergassos—should be accepted

  unquestioningly as being possessed of genuinely wondrous powers.

  "Thou hast not come hither to wreak thy vengeance upon helpless villagers?"

  Goyderooch inquired cautiously.

  "We are here by the direct bidding of the King," Horazzorgio told him. " 'Tis

  well for you that I heed first my loyalty to His Majesty, and second my private

  inclinations. There is one, a holy man from Pergassos, who was also at this

  place five brights since—the brother of Thirg, Asker-of-Questions."

  "Thou speakest of Groork, the hearer, who came hither to commune with the Great

  Wilderness and prepare himself spiritually for the time of great works which is

  written as his destiny to perform for the greater glory of the Lifemaker,"

  Casquedin said from beside Goyderooch.

  "The same," Horazzorgio said. "His destiny has arrived, it appears. We are to

  conduct him back to Kroaxia, to the palace of Eskenderom, where omens have been

  witnessed of great things that shall come to pass."

  Goyderooch dispatched Casquedin with the news to the house of Meerkulla,

  Tamer-of-Endcase-Drillers, on the edge of the village, where Groork was lodging.

  Casquedin returned alone a few minutes later. "Meerkulla asks forgiveness, but

  says that the hearer is locked in his cell and attending to his sacred

  devotions," he reported. "To intrude would constitute sinfulness of the gravest

  kind."

  "But this is the King's command!" Goyderooch blustered. "Return at once to

  Meerkulla and tell him that—"

  Horazzorgio raised a hand wearily. "Our need for haste is not so pressing as

  that, Headrobeing, for we have ridden without respite from Pergassos. We shall

  not depart until we have rested awhile and partaken of refreshment and charge.

  So prepare a repast of your finest lube and filter stations, and leave the

  hearer to complete his meditations."

  In the room that he had been given for his own use at the rear of Meerkulla's

  house, Groork was frantically bundling his belongings into the frame-backed sack

  that he used when traveling. Horazzorgio could have come for only two reasons:

  Either Eskenderom had not forgotten his scheme for removing Frennelech, the High

  Priest, and establishing a new priesthood under Groork, or Horazzorgio wished to

  settle a personal score over Groork's having warned Thirg when the writ had been

  issued for the latter's arrest. Either way Groork wasn't interested in staying

  around to talk about it, and had received a sudden revelation that the

  Lifemaker's plans required him to be the chosen instrument of other designs

  destined to unfold at another place to which the greater powers would in d
ue

  course guide him.

  After checking the room a last time to make sure he hadn't missed anything, he

  pushed open the window, poked his head out, and looked first one way, then the

  other. No one was in sight. He heaved his pack over the ledge, picked up his

  staff, and climbed outside. One of Meerkulla's steeds was tethered at the rear

  of the house, grazing on slow charge from a domesticated forest transformer and

  not yet unsaddled. Groork looked at it thoughtfully as he lifted his pack onto

  his back, and then glanced from side to side and back over his shoulder. Had the

  animal been left as a temptation to test his honesty at a time of stress, or was

  it a gift from the Lifemaker to ensure Groork's preservation for greater things?

  And then, as he stood waiting for inspiration, he heard in his head the first

  whisperings of a message from the voices that had begun speaking from the sky of

  late.

  In a control room inside the Orion, a computer display changed to read:

  ORBITER FOUR MAPPING RADAR—COARSE SCAN 23-B37 COMPLETE ON SECTOR 19H. COMMENCING

  HIGH RESOLUTION SCAN. SUBSECTORS 19-22 THROUGH 19-38. MODE 7. FRAME 5. SWEEP

  PARAMETERS: 03, 12, 08, 23, 00, 00, 42.

  Groork turned his face upward and gazed rapturously at the heavens as the

  meaning of the voices became plain in his mind. "Thy work in Kroaxia is ended,

  Groork," they sang. "Take thee forth from this place now, for thy path lies

  across the Wilderness and unto the lands of Carthogia."

  "Am I, then, to find the Waskorians and join them in their struggle to preserve

  the true faith in the face of the barbarism wrought upon Carthogia by Kleippur,

  who serves the Dark Master?" Groork asked himself. "Indeed the ways of the

  Lifemaker are truly wise and all-seeing, for in that way also shall I find again

  my lost brother and return his soul yet to the way of righteousness." He looked

  again at Meerkulla's mount. "Could a mere robeing such as I presume to argue

  with the will of Him who sends thee as His gift to carry me across the

  Meracasine?" He unplugged the animal's cord and swung himself up onto the

  creature's back. "The Lifemaker gave, and the Lifemaker has taken away," he told

  the back of Meerkulla's house as he began moving off. Then he stopped and stared

  uncomfortably for a few seconds at the dwelling of the one who had given him

  shelter and hospitality. Slowly and deliberately he raised his arm and made the

  motions in the air which would confer blessings upon Meerkulla, his family, his

  descendants, his crops, and his animals for many twelve-brights to come. "There,

  my friend, now thou hast more than just compensation," Groork murmured. Feeling

  better, he turned his mount about again and slipped quietly out of the village.

  26

  "YOU CAN'T DO IT," MASSEY SAID, SHAKING HIS HEAD AS HE turned restlessly on his

  feet between the bunks in his cabin in Globe II. He sounded as near to angry as

  Zambendorf had ever heard him. "The Taloids aren't some race of natural

  inferiors put there to do all the work for free. It's taken us centuries to get

  over the consequences of trying to treat groups of our own kind that way back on

  Earth. Those days are over now. We can't go back to them. It would be a

  catastrophe."

  "Any forms of life that have evolved intelligence and begun lifting themselves

  above the animal level possess something in common that makes accidental

  differences in biological hardware trivial by comparison," Vernon Price said

  earnestly from the edge of one of the lower bunks. "The word human has a broader

  definition now. It describes a whole evolutionary phase, not just one species

  that happens to have entered it."

  They had the cabin to themselves as Graham Spearman was busy in one of the labs,

  and Malcom Wade, its fourth occupant, was busy running elaborate statistical

  analyses and cross-correlations on reams of worthless data that he and Periera

  had been avidly collecting from faked ESP tests. Zambendorf, who was sitting on

  a fold-out chair in the narrow space by the door, looked from Massey to Price

  and back again in bewilderment. Somehow they had gotten the idea into their

  heads that he had not only allowed himself to be brought into the plot to turn

  the Taloids into serfs, but that he had done so with enthusiasm, and they were

  very distressed about it. So was Zambendorf—to find himself accused of being a

  willing accomplice in the very thing that had been causing him so much concern.

  "Okay, I know how you feel about a lot of today's people," Massey said, tossing

  out his hands. "They've grown up in the twenty-first century, surrounded by

  better opportunities for learning and education than anybody else in history,

  and if they're too dumb to take advantage of what they've got, it's not your

  problem. They had their choice. I might not share your view, but I can see your

  point." He waved a hand in front of his face. "But keeping the Taloids in a

  state of deliberately imposed backwardness is different. They never had any

  opportunity to know better. They don't have the same choice. That's all I'm

  saying."

  Zambendorf blinked up at him and shook his head. "But—" he began.

  "You must see that it's the beginning of the same line that's been used to keep

  wealthy minorities in power and the people in their place all down through the

  ages," Vernon Price said. "Real knowledge is strictly for the elites; the masses

  are fobbed off with superstition, nonsense, and hopes for a better tomorrow. New

  technologies and anything that might lead toward genuine mass education and

  prosperity are to be opposed. I know how you've made your living up until now,

  but as Gerry says, at least those suckers had a choice and should have known

  better. But with the Taloids it would be pure exploitation. You can't do it."

  "FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!" Zambendorf exploded suddenly. The cabin became instantly

  quiet. He gave a satisfied nod. "Thank you. Look, doesn't it occur to either of

  you that I just mightn't have the faintest idea what in hell you're talking

  about?"

  "Oh, come on, don't give us that," Massey said impatiently. "It's the real

  reason you were sent all the way to Titan. Who do you think you're trying to

  fool now? It's obvious."

  "What is the real reason I was sent all the way to Titan?" Zambendorf asked,

  more baffled than ever but genuinely curious.

  "Because a big-name cult leader like you can influence a lot of public

  thinking," Price said. "You're GSEC's lever into the congressional policymaking

  machine." Zambendorf shook his head and looked back at Massey.

  Massey frowned down at him but seemed less sure of himself, "That's why our

  society tolerates so many zany cults and crackpot religions, isn't it," he said.

  "Why?" Zambendorf asked.

  "A politician can net a lot of votes for a small amount of effort by saying nice

  things about a guru who's got ten thousand disciples so brainwashed that they'll

  do anything he tells them," Massey said. "Or at least, if he's smart he doesn't

  say anything that might get them upset about him. So the guys who run the cults

  continue to get away with murder, and nobody bothers them very much. The

  business they're really in is
selling blocks of controlled votes and molded

  public opinion in return for political favors and protection." He gave

  Zambendorf a long, penetrating look, as if to say that none of this should need

  spelling out, and then moved around the end of the bunks to pour himself coffee

  from the pot by the sink.

  Vernon Price completed what Massey had been saying. "To a lot of very

  influential people, the political and economic implications of Titan's being up

  for grabs must add up to a crucial situation, which they knew long before the

  mission left Earth . . ." He spread his hands briefly. "And we all know that

  such people can make very attractive offers when it suits them."

  "You think that I knew what the mission's purpose was all along?" Zambendorf

  said.

  "You certainly seemed to know about Titan long before most of us did," Massey

  said. He stared down over the rim of his cup. "What was the deal—unlimited media

  hype and complete suppression of all competent reporting to make you the

  superstar of the century?" His voice conveyed disappointment rather than

  contempt. "Or was it the other way round—threats . . . everything over for you

  if you refused to go along with them? But that was a long time ago now, from a

  much narrower perspective—before we left Earth and before anyone knew what we

  all know now. All I'm asking you to do is see the big picture and think about

  the real implications."

  Zambendorf brought his hand up to his face and stared down at the floor in

  silence for a while. Then at last he emitted a long, weary sigh and looked up

  between his fingers. "Look," he said. "I've got a feeling I'm wasting my breath

  saying this, but I didn't know any more about where this ship was going than you

  did, until after we embarked in orbit. What I did find out, I found out myself

  by my own methods. When I agreed to come on this mission, I thought we were

  going to Mars. I accepted the usual kind of publicity deal, sure, but as far as

  I was concerned it was to do with the kind of stunt GSEC had been talking about

  sponsoring on Mars—not anything serious. I didn't know anything about any

  aliens, or any of the things you've been talking about." He stood up and moved

  past Massey to help himself to coffee.

  Massey glanced questioningly back at Price while Zambendorf was filling his cup.