The creatures—Starkey called them “Lorkins”—had snakelike bodies topped by a head dented by a cavity on its crest, and a collar of tentacles just below the head. Other than the tentacles, there were no visible limbs. It took Severin a while to work out that the cavity atop the head was in fact a mouth that dimpled the head like the caldera atop a volcano. Perhaps the Lorkins were more worm than snake.
Near Station Command was a kind of concourse separating work areas from crew quarters, and in it was a sculpture showing one of the Great Masters brandishing a tablet at a group of Lorkins, who reared back in attitudes of astonishment and awe. It was, Severin realized, an early version of the famous group of figures on the Boulevard of the Praxis in Zanshaa High City, The Great Master Delivering the Praxis to Other Peoples, with a titanic Shaa revealing the Praxis to the varied species of the empire, all coiled in attitudes of wonder, terror, and admiration.
The video went on to the Shaa quarters, segregated from the rest of the station by an impressive set of metal shutters. “It’s lucky the gates were left open,” Starkey said. “We’d have had a hard time getting past them otherwise.” Furniture suitable for the Great Masters was still in place, as were conduits for delivering air and water. Quarters for the Lorkins had no great gateway, but featured furniture suitable for their snakelike anatomy, including low round beds—apparently they liked to coil into circles while resting.
“Did you find any bodies?” Severin asked.
“No, my lord,” Starkey said. “Neither here, nor on the planet. The stations were very thoroughly cleaned before the Shaa departed, and as for the planet, it’s wild now. We don’t have any archaeological training, because nobody thought we’d ever need it. It’s possible that once proper excavations can be done, we’ll find cemeteries or tombs.”
“Or not.” Morales frowned. “It’s occurred to us that the Lorkins might not have had anything like a skeleton, or bones or teeth, and so even if we find cemeteries there wouldn’t be anything in them.”
“Did you find station records?” Severin asked.
“All carefully removed,” said Lady Starkey. “The Great Masters were so thorough I’m a little surprised that they even let the elevator terminals remain.”
“Of course a proper excavation might reveal records buried in ruins on the surface,” Morales said. “If they haven’t decayed completely, of course.”
“Would you care for more coffee, my lord?” said one of the stewards. Severin looked down at his cup with his cold, forgotten coffee trembling at the bottom. The spices that had seemed so inviting had turned bitter on his tongue.
“I’d like some water, please,” he said.
“Of course, my lord.”
He and Explorer’s officers had been discussing what should be a state secret in front of Lady Starkey’s servants, but it wasn’t as if the entire crew hadn’t known how staggering were the finds at Lorkin. Every crouchback on the ship had months to digest this information—the only ignorant person on Explorer was Severin himself.
“We conducted two investigations simultaneously,” Lady Starkey said. “While crews were exploring the elevator termini, we were also conducting ultra-wideband radar surveys of Lorkin’s surface. Here’s a map of the second-largest continent.”
The oblong continent appeared in garish enhanced color, and Severin gasped at what the survey had revealed. Explorer’s radar had penetrated tree cover and dipped, depending on the nature of the local soil and stone, below the surface of the ground. But depth of subsurface penetration hardly mattered, because the principal discoveries were very near the surface, and the principal discoveries were an entire civilization, revealed in brilliant detail. Cities, a road network, ports, terraces for agriculture carved into the sides of hills and mountains.
“It’s all broken foundations and rubble now, completely overgrown,” Morales said. “But it’s clear enough what was once there.”
“There were billions on this world,” Severin said.
“The Lorkins had an advanced society before the Shaa ever arrived,” said Lady Starkey. “We don’t know if they ever got into space, but it’s not unlikely they had some kind of primitive spaceflight systems, just as Terra did.” She zoomed in on certain features, and cursors pointed out geometrically shaped ruins. “We think we can identify certain structures for which the Shaa were responsible. These absolutely straight roads radiating from the elevator termini, for instance. They look like the kind of supersonic rail transport we have on every developed planet in the empire.”
“So what happened?” Severin asked. “Where are they all now?” The crawling sensation on the back of his neck told him he already knew the answer.
“We don’t know why,” said Lady Starkey, “but it’s clear the Shaa wiped the Lorkins out. Background radiation levels are higher in urban areas, consistent with antimatter bombardment from orbit thousands of years ago. Judging from a layer of carbon the survey shows in some areas, it seems as if forested areas were targeted, presumably to set them alight.”
“Just like Dandaphis,” said Morales.
Dandaphis had been destroyed by the Shaa as an example to others. A group of human biologists on the planet had been caught attempting to breed a Shaa-killing plague, and executing only the conspirators hadn’t seemed a grand enough lesson. Dandaphis had been bombed from orbit, and the smoke from fires and explosions had smothered the planet for years and blocked out the sun. No crops could grow, and anything that could freeze had frozen, including the inhabitants.
There had been no survivors. And no one had tried to kill the Shaa in the years since.
“Your water, my lord.” The steward placed a crystal goblet before Severin. Absently, he lifted it to his lips and sipped.
“There’s more, isn’t there,” he said. It wasn’t really a question.
“We took our shuttles to the surface,” Lady Starkey said. “Landed on the ocean and went to the sites of what had been port cities. Though we aren’t equipped to do archaeology, we managed some very elementary digs and confirmed what we thought we already knew. What seem to be the slightly radioactive ruins of cities are in fact radioactive ruins of cities. There’s a layer of ash practically everywhere we looked. We looked for the remains of one of those high-speed railways, and we found one. The rails are in poor condition but they’re recognizable as the same configuration as those we use now.”
As Starkey spoke, Morales paged through images of artifacts, broken foundations, twisted rails, broken stone, fused glass. Every object had in some way been destroyed, if not by celestial bombardment, then by time.
“We brought thousands of objects back with us,” he said. “They’re in our holds now, along with soil samples and so on.”
“And we have masses of documentation,” Starkey said. “This presentation just scrapes the surface of what we’ve learned.” Her dark eyes turned to Severin. “But what should we do with it all? We’ve discovered a world that’s perfect for settlement, except for this huge secret that’s concealed just under the surface. A secret that’s so huge that the Great Masters rewrote history to keep it hidden.”
“If so,” Severin said, “it’s odd that they allowed the wormhole to continue to exist.”
“I think they never discovered our particular wormhole,” Starkey said. “Remember it’s a considerable distance from the primary. I think they entered through a different wormhole, and after they evacuated they hurled enough matter through it that they unbalanced it and caused it to evaporate. That we found another route into the system was purely chance.”
“We tried to find evidence of another wormhole,” Morales said. “We initiated a search for any wormhole relay station remaining in the system, but that’s a lot of space to cover, and the survey wasn’t completed when we left.”
Severin frowned at the display, which was showing bits of fused glass along with the display of a radiation counter. “The Shaa were ashamed, weren’t they?” he said. “Or at least embarrassed that they’
d failed. That’s why they were so thorough in hiding the catastrophe. If they were proud of what they’d done, they’d have boasted about it.”
Lady Starkey seemed relieved that he’d said such a thing out loud.
“It might have all been the Lorkins’ fault,” Morales said, his tone a little defensive. “They might not have been teachable. They might have been naturally rebellious and willful.”
“They might,” Severin said.
“The Shaa kept the peace among us for over twelve thousand years,” said Morales. “And now they’re gone, and just look at us—two civil wars in a little over ten years.”
“Our record hasn’t been good,” Severin said. “But what about the record of the Shaa? What can we say about it?” He realized that he was rubbing his sore right forearm and desisted.
Morales looked stubborn, ready to continue in defense of the Great Masters.
“We may be recapitulating the Great Masters’ early mistakes,” Severin said. “We don’t know how many wars they fought among themselves, or how many other planets and species they wiped out before they met us.” He repressed an impulse to pound his fist on the table. How dare they not tell us? he thought. “Maybe they just killed anything they couldn’t understand.”
Morales seemed about to object, then decided against it. Severin found himself getting angry and made an effort to calm himself. “I don’t know how much you know about the battle I fought with Beacon at Rol-mar, but I was trying to prevent its captain from doing to Rol-mar what the Shaa did to Lorkin. The scale was different—there were only three hundred thousand settlers on Rol-mar—but I think I should admit a personal prejudice and say that I’m opposed on principle to annihilating masses of intelligent life. And not only am I opposed, but I’m opposed to lying about it once it’s done.”
Ideas and images battled in his mind: Beacon blazing up as its own missile detonated; the dark, deserted station with its Shaa-sized corridors; bright flashes over cities. He rubbed his chin and tried to make sense of it all.
“You know, I never thought of the Great Masters as liars,” he said. “They always seemed sincere, even if they were dogmatic and unimaginative. But now everything we know about them is in doubt, and I am inclined to wonder if this sort of mass extermination is built into the Praxis somehow. It’s not there in so many words, but maybe it’s implied. Because now we’re engaged in a war to keep Lady Gruum and the others from killing Terrans the same way the Shaa killed the Lorkins.”
“Or Lord Mehrang killed the Yormaks,” said Lady Starkey.
“The Yormaks rebelled!” Morales said, almost defiantly.
“The Yormaks were primitives with stone-tipped spears,” said Lady Starkey. “There were ways of dealing with them that wouldn’t have left two-thirds of them dead and the rest penned up on tiny reserves.” She turned to Severin. “So we’re in the age of massacre now?”
“I hope not,” said Severin. “And the best way to make sure we’re not is to make sure that massacres aren’t rewarded.”
Lady Starkey threw out her hands. “And if we release the information about Lorkin, does that increase the killing or decrease it?”
Severin raised his goblet of water to his lips, contemplated it for a moment, then returned it to the table. “The war complicates everything,” he said. “I think I want to take some counsel before releasing this information.”
“That’s sensible,” Starkey said, “but in the meantime what do I do with my crew? Right now I’m not allowing anyone off the ship, but denying the crew leave after a seven months’ survey will make people wonder why we’re shutting them up.”
Severin thought about this for a moment, then shrugged. “Let them have their liberty,” he said. “Just ask them not to tell anyone what you found. Some of them are bound to talk, but it’s not as if they’ll be broadcasting the news to all Harzapid. They’d be starting rumors here on the dockyard, but the dockyard is bound to be full of rumors anyway. Lorkin might be just one rumor among many.”
Lady Starkey was relieved. Severin looked down at his crystal goblet, considered picking it up, then decided against it. Fused glass from the video display reflected in the goblet’s facets.
Lady Starkey reached into her tunic pocket and took out an envelope with her seal on it. She pushed it across the table toward Severin. “Here is a foil with a copy of all our data,” she said.
He took the envelope. “Thank you. And now I think I’ll seek some of that advice I just mentioned.” He rose, and the others jumped to their feet and braced. He waved them at ease, and then Lady Starkey escorted him to the Explorer’s entry port.
“Thank you for being so . . . reasonable,” she said, as he turned to say his farewell.
“Reasonable?”
“I half expected to be arrested,” she said.
Severin was taken aback. “Can’t afford to do that,” he said. “We need your ship.”
“Well.” She let out a breath. “It’s good to be needed.” He saw a tremor in her left cheek, and he realized she’d been terrified. She forced a smile.
“I’m a fan of your puppet shows, by the way,” she said.
“Oh.” He was surprised. “Thank you.”
“I was watching your Alois serial when we went through the wormhole into the Lorkin system,” she said. “I haven’t seen anything past Episode Six.”
“Aren’t they on the feed here?” Severin said.
Her brown eyes widened. “I haven’t looked! I’ve been so preoccupied I didn’t think about Alois until just now.”
“Well,” Severin said. “I’ll send you the missing episodes, with my compliments.”
“Thank you, my lord,” she said and braced.
Why was she afraid of me? Severin thought, as the elevator carried him back to the dockyard. One look at my puppet theater and she’d know I’m harmless.
And then he remembered that he’d destroyed the Beacon along with all its crew; perhaps he was a little bit frightening after all.
Once he’d returned to the dockyard, Severin realized he didn’t quite know who to approach with his problem. Gareth Martinez was a good friend and supporter, but Martinez was off in Bombardment of Los Angeles and probably wouldn’t be back till the war was over. Severin therefore went to the next person in line, Roland.
Roland Martinez had requisitioned an entire floor of the Empyrean Hotel, the most luxurious hotel on the ring, where all the important officers and dignitaries stayed. Roland was doing his best to run the Restoration from there and was as frantic and busy as anyone on the station, but when Severin sent him an urgent message, Roland told him to come at once.
The Empyrean Hotel was set back from the rubberized floor of the ring, secure behind an elaborate gilded fence and a screen of orange trees. Severin parked his green Sun Ray on the wide avenue, then crossed to the entrance. The hotel towered above him, a façade of gleaming white ceramic broken by a swooping abstract black pattern, like elliptical orbits superimposed on one another. The empty chairs of the lobby were guarded by armed Military Constabulary, their rifles carefully pointed at the floor until needed. One of the guards accompanied Severin up the elevator to Roland’s floor.
The doors opened to reveal Lady Sula’s friend Ming Lin, dressed formally in a high-collared suit. Severin greeted her, and she went into the elevator with the guard and, presumably, to her next appointment. A constable first class, in dress uniform and carrying a holstered sidearm, took Severin to a large office—one grand desk, ferns, and cream-colored poufy chairs—where Roland waited. Severin accepted Roland’s offer of a golden Comador wine, and he drank without tasting as he told Roland what Explorer had discovered. Roland listened intently, his head cocked, his thoughts shifting like shadows behind his eyes.
“We’ve declared the intentions of the Restoration to return to traditional government built on the foundations of the Praxis,” he said, “and now you bring information that calls those foundations into question. I think we’ll have to keep this secr
et for a while.”
“It shouldn’t be a secret forever,” Severin said. “This is of crucial importance.”
“Agreed,” Roland said. “After we win the war, this information should become a part of a discussion on the future of the empire.”
“And if we lose?” Severin said. “I don’t want all this wiped out with us, or suppressed by the Zanshaa government.”
“If the crucial battle is lost,” Roland said, “I will see the data is distributed as widely as I can. My sister can send it to millions via Imperial Broadcasting.”
“In that case she’ll have to have the data, and a presentation to explain it.”
“Lady Starkey already has a presentation, doesn’t she?”
“Do I brief Lady Vipsania first, or you?”
Roland sipped his wine. “You and Lady Starkey should brief both of us, I think. And now, if you’ll forgive me . . . ?”
No one escorted Severin on his way out. He made his way to his viridian Fleet car, then reached into his pocket to touch the envelope with the data that might unmoor the empire.
As if it weren’t unmoored already.
He returned to his office on Expedition, where his puppets were draped over the furniture or hung from hooks, and downloaded all Explorer’s data into Expedition’s computers, then put it under his own captain’s seal. He called up the signals board onto his desk to send a message to Lady Starkey, then paused for a moment and attached the complete Alois serial.
Chapter 7
The meeting on Perfection of the Praxis combined two committees: around the arculé wood table were the officers who made up Michi Chen’s steering committee, and some of the politicians—Lord Mehrang, Roland Martinez, Terza Chen—who were trying to guide Restoration policy. Lamey wasn’t present, so Sula assumed he was off raising his money for his planetary development scheme. Once she entered the room, a fierce solvent smell seemed to clog the back of Sula’s throat, and she wanted to somehow hawk it up. Because of the urgency of the meeting, there was no reception with drinks and pastry beforehand, just a hissing urn of strong black tea with no sweetener next to a stack of cups. Sula let her tea cool untouched on the table.
Fleet Elements Page 11
