Star Song and Other Stories

by Timothy Zahn

  You won't feel a thing." I didn't, but that was probably only because the first thing they did when we got to the examination room was put me to sleep.

  I woke to find myself lying on a rolltable moving down a deserted corridor.

  There was an empty growling in my stomach, an unpleasant tingling in my fingertips and forehead, and a strange difficulty in focusing my eyes. One of the two doctors was riding along with me, watching my face as I came to, and considered asking her where we were going. But I didn't feel like talking, and anyway her expression didn't encourage questions.

  A few minutes later we passed through a door and I found myself back in Devaro's office. The Convocant was sitting in his chair, feet propped up informally, gazing at his desk display. "Ah—there you are," he said as the rolltable crossed to him. "That will be all, Doctor."

  "Yes, sir," she said, waiting until the rolltable had come to a halt beside the desk before stepping off and disappearing back through the door.

  "It's been a long day," Devaro commented. "How are you feeling?"

  "A little groggy," I said, carefully sitting up on the edge of the rolltable.

  There was a moment of dizziness, but it passed quickly. "How long was I out?"

  "As I said, all day," Devaro said, nodding toward his window. To my shock, I saw it was black with night. "It's a little after eight-thirty."

  No wonder my stomach was growling. "Can I go home now?" I asked.

  "You'll want to eat first," Devaro said. "I'm having some food sent up. Tell me, have you ever had a brainscan done before?"

  "I don't think so," I said. "Is that what they did to me in there?"

  "Oh, they did a little of everything," he said. "A complete brainscan, including a neural network mapping and a personality matrix profile. Do you always hold the calix at the same spots?"

  "Usually," I said. "Not always. Why?"

  "Did your friend Tawnikakalina ever tell you how she and her people learned Anglish?"

  The abrupt changes of subject were starting to make my head hurt. "She didn't know," I told him. "All she knew was that the Kailth had some of her group learn the language when they decided to set up a colony on Quibsh."

  Devaro's lip twisted in a grimace. "It was the Church," he said, spitting the word out like a curse. "One of those illegal little under-the-table deals they're always making with alien governments. The Kailth apparently took a group of priestians in to Sagtt'a a few years ago to inspect the verloren colony."

  "I see," I said, keeping my voice neutral. The Convocation and Church were always going head-to-head on something, usually with the Church taking the government to task for violating some basic humanitarian principle. The fact that the majority of UnEthHu citizens generally supported the Church on those issues irritated the Convocants no end. "So then you already knew about those verlorens."

  "Hardly," Devaro growled. "The Church hadn't deigned to tell us about them. I did some backtracking after your report came in and was able to put the pieces together. Tell me, how does the calix make you feel?"

  Another abrupt change of topic. With an effort, I tried to think. "It's soothing, mostly. Helps me relax when I'm tense."

  "Does it ever do the opposite?" he asked. "Invigorate you when you're tired?"

  "Well..." I frowned. "Actually, yes. It does, sometimes."

  "In other words," Devaro said, his eyes hard on me, "it creates two completely opposite effects. Doesn't that strike you as a little strange?"

  It was odd, come to think about it. "I suppose so," I said, a little lamely.

  "I guess I just assumed it was mirroring my moods somehow."

  He smiled, a tight humorless expression. "Not mirroring them," he said softly.

  "Creating them."

  The skin on the back of my neck began to crawl. "What do you mean?"

  He reached over and swiveled his desk display around to face me. There was a graph there, with a bewildering array of multicolored curves. "We did a full analysis of the calix," he said. "Paying particular attention to the places where you say you always hold it. We took some five-micron core samples from the wood fibers there; and it turns out they have an interesting and distinctive substratum chemical composition."

  His face hardened. "A composition which, after it's been run through the proper chemo-mathematical transforms, shows a remarkable resemblance to the neural network pattern we took from you today."

  I didn't know what half those words meant. But they sounded ominous. "What does that mean?" I asked.

  "It means that the 'gift' your friend Tawnikakalina gave you isn't a gift," he said bluntly. "It's a weapon."

  I gazed out the window at the black sky over the city, my empty stomach feeling suddenly sick. A weapon. From Tawni? "No," I said, looking back at the Convocant. "No, I can't believe that, sir. Tawni wouldn't do something like that to me. She couldn't."

  He snorted contemptuously. "This from your long and exhaustive experience with different cultures, no doubt?"

  "No, but—"

  "You'll be trying to tell me next that it's the Kailth who are behind it all," he went on. "And that the verloren artists themselves have no idea whatsoever what it is they've created with these calices of theirs."

  I grimaced. I had indeed been wondering exactly along those lines. Hearing it put that way, it did sound vaguely ridiculous.

  "No, it's a grand plot, all right," Devaro went on darkly. "And if the Kailth are taking ten percent of the verlorens' calices every year, they must be using them pretty extensively. Maybe as a prelude to all their conquests." He shook his head wonderingly. "Artwork used as a weapon. What an insidious concept."

  I shook my head. "I'm sorry, but I still don't understand. What is the calix doing?"

  Devaro sighed, swiveling his display back around toward him. "We don't know for sure. If we had a brainscan record for you prior to your trip to Quibsh—but we don't. All we have to go on is this." He waved a hand at the display. "And what this says is that, through your contact with the wood fibers, the calix is changing you into something that matches its own pre-set matrix. Turning you into God alone knows what."

  The room seemed suddenly very cold. "But I don't feel any different," I protested. "I mean... I should feel something. Shouldn't I?"

  He leaned back in his seat and steepled his fingertips together. "You ever try to cook a frog?" he asked. "Probably not. Doubt anyone has, really, but it makes a good story. They say that if you drop a live frog into a pot of boiling water, it'll hop right out again. But if you put it in cold water and slowly heat the pot to boiling, the frog just sits there until it cooks. It can't detect the slow temperature change. You see?"

  I saw, all right. "Is that what the calix is doing? Slow-cooking me?"

  He shrugged. "It's trying. Whether it's going to succeed... that we don't yet know."

  The room fell silent again. I stared out the window, mentally taking inventory of my mind, the way you would poke around your skin checking for bruises. I still couldn't find anything that felt strange.

  But then, maybe the calix hadn't heated the water up enough. Yet. "Why me?" I asked.

  "A mistake, obviously," Devaro said. "The Kailth probably assumed you'd give the calix to Convocant Sutherlan instead of keeping it for yourself. Or else they thought you were more important than you really are, though how they could make that kind of blunder I don't know."

  "So what do we do?" I asked. "Do we—" I hesitated "—destroy the calix?"

  He eyed me closely. "Is that what you want?"

  "I—" I broke off, the quick answer sticking unexpectedly in my throat. Of course we should destroy it—the thing was clearly dangerous. And yet, I felt oddly reluctant to make such a decision. It was such a magnificent piece of art.

  And it had been a gift from Tawni.

  "Actually, it's a moot point," Devaro said into my indecision. "I'm not sure destroying it would do any good. The places where you hold the calix have clearly had the greatest effect on you; b
ut you said yourself you've touched other spots on it, so you've probably already picked up at least some of the programming embedded there."

  Programming. The word sent a shiver up my back. "What are we going to do?"

  "Three things," Devaro said. "First of all, we don't panic. You've been affected, but we're on to them now, so we can keep an eye on you. Second, we need to get more information on these calices in general." He cocked an eyebrow.

  "Which means you're going to have to go back to Quibsh and get us some more of them."

  I felt my mouth drop open. "Back to Quibsh?"

  "You have to," Devaro said, his voice quiet but compelling. "You've met the people there—you're the only one who can pretend it's just a social visit.

  Moreover, they gave you a calix, so it's reasonable you'd be back to buy more as gifts."

  This was coming a little too fast. "Gifts?"

  "Certainly." Devaro smiled slyly. "What better way to guarantee their cooperation than to tell them you want calices to give to prominent members of the Convocation?"

  There was a tone at the door, and a rollcart came in with two covered dishes on it. "Ah—dinner has arrived," Devaro announced, standing up and pointing the rollcart toward one side of the room where a bench table was now unfolding itself from the wall. "Let's eat before it gets cold."

  "Yes, sir," I said, sliding off the rolltable and heading over. The delectable aromas rising from the plates made my stomach hurt even more. "You said there were three things we were going to do."

  "Yes, I did," he said, setting the plates onto opposite ends of the table.

  "The third thing is for us to learn exactly what the calix's programming does.

  Unfortunately, core samples and structural analyses can get us only so far.

  Which leaves only one practical approach."

  I nodded. I'd already guessed this one. "You want me to keep the calix," I said.

  "And let it keep doing whatever it's doing to me."

  "We'll start that phase as soon as you get back from Quibsh," Devaro said. "But don't worry, we'll be with you every step of the way. We'll take a complete brainscan once a week—more often if it seems justified—as well as monitoring your general health."

  It made sense, I supposed. It was also about as unpleasant a prospect as I'd ever faced in my whole life. "What about my work?"

  "This is your work from now on," Devaro said. "You're on my staff now—I made the arrangements with Sutherlan earlier today."

  "I see," I said, walking over to the table. The aromas didn't smell quite so good anymore.

  "You have to do this, Markand," Devaro said quietly. It was, as near as I could remember, the first time he'd ever called me by my name. "It's the only way we're going to get a handle on this Kailth plot. The only way to protect the UnEthHu."

  I sighed. "Patriotism. You found my weak spot, all right."

  "It's a weak spot many of us have," Devaro said. He gestured to the table.

  "Come; let's eat. We still have a great many things to discuss." Four days later, I was back on Quibsh.

  I'd spent the whole trip worrying about how I was going to hide from Tawni the sudden change in the way I now perceived her and her people. No longer as friends, but as enemies.

  Fortunately, the issue never came up. I'd barely stepped out of the half-wing into the late afternoon sunlight when Tawni was there in front of me, all but knocking me over as she threw herself into an enthusiastic full-body hug, chattering away in my ear in an exuberant jumble of Anglish and her own language. When she finally broke free and took my hand a half dozen of her people had joined us, and amid a general flurry of greetings we all tromped together down to the village. By the time we got there, I found myself slipping back into the old friendly, easygoing mode.

  But only on the surface. Beneath the smiles and pleasantries I was on nervous and cautious guard, seeing everything here with new eyes. Behind every verloren face I now searched for evidence of hidden cunning; beneath every word strained to hear a tell-tale echo of deceit.

  And yet, even as I tried to keep Devaro's stern face in front of me as inspiration, I could feel doubts draining my resolve away. Either their deceit was so ingrained, so expertly hidden that I couldn't detect even a breath of it, or else Devaro's assessment about them was wrong. Perhaps they were indeed just as they appeared, open and honest and innocent. Perhaps they really didn't know what the calices did, or else the programming aspect was something the Kailth had covertly introduced into the original design.

  Or perhaps it was that same programming that was the true source of my doubts.

  The calix, whispering to its frog that the water wasn't warm at all.

  It was an hour before the last of the greeters drifted away. I was feeling a little squeamish about being alone with Tawni, not at all sure I could fake the friendship and affection I'd once felt for her. Which I still wanted to feel for her. Fortunately, that moment was put off by her wish to show me the changes that had taken place in the fruit tree grove bordering the village while we still had the afternoon light.

  "I am so pleased you came back to see us," she commented as she led me along a

  twisting path between the trees. "You had said you might not be able to return for a long time."

  "Things just happened to work out this way," I said, impressed in spite of my dour mood at what had happened to the grove. Once little more than branches and pale green leaves, the trees had exploded all over into brilliant, multicolored flowers.

  "I'm glad they did," Tawni said, taking my arm. "I was sorry to see you go."

  "I was sorry to leave," I said, covering her hand with my own and feeling what was left of my resolve weakening again. Tawni was only my age, eighteen years old—surely she wasn't this accomplished a liar already. Besides, she was only an apprentice calix artisan. It would make sense for her leaders to hide the deeper secrets of their agenda from her until they'd confirmed both her skill and her dedication.

  A small part of my mind told me that was rationalization. But suddenly I didn't really care. Tawni was there beside me, warm and affectionate, and there was simply no way I could believe she was my enemy. Whatever the Kailth had programmed the calix to do to me, I knew she would stand beside me in fighting it.

  And if I lost that fight, that same small part reminded me soberly, at least Convocant Devaro would have the final data he wanted.

  Speaking of Devaro, it was time I got down to the task he'd sent me here to do.

  "As a matter of fact," I said, "it was your parting gift that's responsible for me being back so soon."

  "Then I am even more pleased I gave it to you," she said cheerfully. "How did this happen?"

  "Well, of course I showed it to everyone in my office and around the Convocation," I said, a fresh twinge of guilt poking at me. I'd convinced myself that Tawni was on my side; and now here I was, lying to her. "They all thought it was beautiful, of course."

  "I am honored."

  "Anyway, some of them wanted to know how they could get one for themselves," pushed ahead. "One of them—Convocant Devaro—asked me to come back and see if they were for sale."

  "I am certain that can be arranged," Tawni said, turning us onto another path that led deeper into the grove. "Come, we will ask permission."

  "Permission?" I asked, frowning, as she led us around a particularly bushy tree.

  "Who in here do we need to—?"

  I broke off, my breath catching in my throat as we stepped into a small clearing. In the center was a small cookstove, with something flat and gray sizzling on the grill-work at its top. Arranged in a neat circle around it were a half dozen sleepbags, with antenna-like posts sticking out of the ground beside each one.

  And standing in a line between the ring of sleepbags and the cookstove, facing our direction, were six Kailth warriors.

  I froze. It was probably the worst, most guilty-looking thing I could have done, but I couldn't help it. I froze right there to the spot, Tawni's
grip on my arm bringing her up short as well. She blinked at me, obviously bewildered by my reaction, and tried to pull me forward—

  "You," one of the Kailth said. "Human male. Come."

  I wanted to run. Desperately. To run back to the half-wing and get the hell out of there.

  But they were all wearing those lumpy sidearms, the ones that could bring down a

  two-story building with one shot. So instead I let Tawni pull me across the clearing to them.

  "What do you wish here?" the warrior demanded when I was standing right in front of him.

  "He is my friend, Warrior-Citizen-One," Tawni said. "He would like to purchase some of our calices."

  There was a long moment of silence. "You were on Quibsh before," the warrior said at last. "You are a clerk to Convocant Magnell Sutherlan."

  "Yes, that's right," I managed. "I mean, I was. I'm working for Convocant Lantis Devaro now."

  "Why do you clerk now for Convocant Lantis Devaro?"

  "He hired me away from Convocant Sutherlan." I had a flash of inspiration—"He was the only Convocant who was really interested in finding out more about Tawni's people. Since I'd met them, he thought I could be of help."

  There was another silence. I felt the sweat collecting on my forehead, wondering if the Kailth was suspicious or merely having difficulty sorting through the Anglish. "Were you?" he asked.

  Was I helpful? What exactly did he mean by that? "I tried to be," I stammered.

  "I—he did send me back here to see them."

  "And to purchase their calices."

  "Yes," I said, bracing myself. This was going to be risky, but it might just add the necessary bit of verisimilitude to my story. "He was very upset when I refused to sell him the one Tawni gave me," I told him. "I told him it was a gift, and that I wouldn't give it up under any circumstances."

  The warrior eyed me, and I held my breath. If the possessiveness I really did feel for Tawni's calix was part of its programming, then the Kailth should conclude that it was doing its job and let me go about my business.

  And apparently, it worked. "How many calices does Convocant Devaro wish to purchase?" the warrior asked.

  I started breathing again. "He would like to buy three or four," I said.