Mindworlds

by Phyllis Gotlieb

  The report suggesting that Gorodek might have Kartenat’s Syndrome did not mention him by name, but was identified by number. I am the only connection to it.

  And only a Lyhhrt telepath could find that out … why? Something to put away for the future? And if that was so that Lyhhrt could be hiding anywhere here, even in someone’s body … .

  Eki, Tharma, you have more questions than there are answers and some may never be found. But I was right to choose Dritta … yes, and her work is cut out for her … .

  Friendships

  Hasso felt that in these past few days he had been broken and badly patched together. He said to the Lyhhrt, “Neither of us has gained much by coming here.”

  The Lyhhrt said, “A few hours ago there was a triV news report that the Lyhhrt ambassadors on Fthel Four had been called home. I don’t know what that means.”

  “It’s useless to bring the matter to the Council now that Gorodek has made that announcement. People all over the world will be hissing over it … but no one takes a Lyhhrt threat seriously.”

  “Gorodek does,” The Lyhhrt had wrapped himself in his wrinkled cloth again. “There are so many factions now on Lyhhr that even I could not tell friend from enemy. But I know that Lyhhrt is mine if he is working for Gorodek.”

  “What will it matter? He must leave soon to lead his forces, and so will we.” Tomorrow … and Ekket?

  “I will never be safe as long as that other is alive.”

  “Surely he will leave with Gorodek.”

  “Sooner or later we will meet.”

  Hasso stared. “Please don’t think in that way. You may be destroyed!”

  “So will that Other,” the Lyhhrt said calmly. “Two more dead Lyhhrt that your world will not miss.”

  Hasso had no rational word to answer this. He wanted to say, I found a friend in you that I valued, but he knew that he could never be the kind of other the Lyhhrt needed, and turned away to open the glass doors and step out onto the esplanade.

  Around the mesa fifteen or twenty of the giant flying reptiles called greater thouk were lifting off in practice for their winter flight to West Oceania. The lesser thouk was common in Burning Mountain, but these vast-winged airbeasts here had been thought of as Lesser Known Thouk until the New Interworld Court was built, and they were found in increasing numbers.

  Lifting off in light morning haze and barely flapping their huge translucent wings the thouk were one by one swooping into the canyons where Hasso had been wishing he could wander as he looked down from the mesa, before the strange voice spoke.

  There was nothing to stop him from doing this exploring in the mind of a thouk, that one drifting so smoothly almost touching the canyon walls … as in a dream he took off his helmet and focussed his mind to launch—

  The thouk stopped dead in midair and flapped furiously.

  Hasso—magnifying glass again—found himself trapped beating his wings staring unseeing along with someone examining bones, wing membranes, blood vessels, muscles, digestive system, mechanics of flight—what is fear?—and freed now suddenly flying, twitching head and tail to made sure they were working … Hasso himself watching the not people

  yes, if people could fly they’d—

  :Hasso?: The Lyhhrt had seen or felt nothing of this.

  Hasso backed into the room and slammed the door panel into its socket. He was trembling, angry at himself for his fear which had doubled itself along with the thouk’s. :You tell me what is that, Lyhhrt!:

  The Lyhhrt answered aloud but quietly, “That voice you seemed to hear up on the mesa, was that it?”

  “No no! It was using my eyes and mind to examine that thouk! Stopped it in mid-air! And—I think—decided that it was not a person, and I foolishly began to say, ‘Yes, if people could fly they’d travel much more easily.’ Who was I speaking to? Everything has gone wrong since I came here. I hope I am not going crazy as well!”

  “You are not crazy, Archivist, but I think you have attracted a very odd friend.”

  Choices

  At noon Tharma called on Dritta once more. “Have you been able to rest, Dritta?”

  “As much as I needed, thank you, Supervisor.” Dritta had an air about her of limitless calm, and Tharma envied it deeply.

  “I am going to ask something you may refuse.” She paused, thinking how to put it. “I am trying to make sure everyone either goes home or remains here peacefully. The young lady Ekket needs protection and I have got permission from Prime Ravat to free you for the purpose. You may need to escort her to her home country.”

  Dritta considered for one beat. “I believe I could do that properly.”

  “Good. Bring her here, then.”

  Ekket’s shame and humiliation still showed in her swollen eyes and trembling mouth, but Tharma trusted the spark she had shown in her defiance of Gorodek. She noticed the lock on Ekket’s helmet and was relieved that she did not have to put on her own.

  “I know you have had a difficult time, dems’l, but I must go forward with this case while those concerned are still here. The young woman I sent to bring you will be your guardian until you are safe. I have to ask, do you want to charge Gorodek for what he has done?”

  “No,” Ekket said immediately. “It wouldn’t make me feel better and it would only make Gorodek angrier.”

  “Would you rather go home?”

  “Never. I’d rather be in Screaming Demons Chasm than with my mother.”

  “We narrow the choices. Hasso’s stepmother Skerow would be very happy to have you stay with her—”

  Ekket, shyly but with firmness, said, “There is a young man who cares—we care for each other very much. His parents offered me their shelter before I was dragged away by my mother and that awful Sketh. They have sent word that they still …”

  “So, and where do these people live?”

  “In Port Dewpoint, a short way down river from Burning Mountain.”

  “My old territory and Hasso’s. I will see what arrangements …” Alas for Hasso! But he knew he had no claims … .

  That was the easy part. Dealing with Gorodek would be somewhat harder. Tharma was trying to decide which of his attendants would listen to reason. Osset was not the one, if only because her own anger would get in the way. But then she would not be the one to deal with him. Someone smooth from Vannar’s office …

  “Eh, Supervisor!” Ravat burst in on her. “We have another situation—” He stopped to swallow air.

  “What now?”

  Ravat calmed himself. “The Isthmus States Federation governors were to leave today, but they’ve received instructions from their Joint Executive Council to warn Gorodek that if he brings armed forces near their shores—” another swallow, “I can’t believe this—there might be a war!”

  “I doubt that will happen,” Tharma said quietly.

  “If we can’t settle this and keep them apart I’m afraid the damned fools are going to battle it out right here!”

  “They have no weapons. The extra security we hired left on the midnight barge, but we can deputize some of our clerking staff. The Isthmus people are not upset without some reason: Gorodek owns property there that’s believed to have been an Ix headquarters at some time … a West Sealander holding outland territory, always a bone in the craw of the Federation.”

  “I see you have been speaking with Hasso.”

  “He knows what’s going on.” She switched on display screens. “Hall of Communication, is it?”

  “Yes.”

  “They have their helmets on, no microphones. Banging on the floor with walking-sticks, they seem to have lost their voices and will burn out soon. Has Vannar given orders?”

  “He has no idea what to do!”

  “You want to separate the combatants and send them home as soon as we can pack them up. I’ll make up a squad. Dritta and my aide Kewar are the strongest women here, I can find another one or two.”

  “Good.”

  “I can think of a few things you
might have Vannar tell Gorodek, if he has the nerve—or I will call in Osset and tell him myself.”

  “Thank you, Tharma, you are invaluable. Faugh, you have such a musty little closet for an office, we must stir up those builders to give you some real space.”

  Tharma sent for Osset. She was drinking a bowl of tea, not too spiced this time. With effort she kept her face expressionless and she was sure he was doing the same.

  “I am sure you are glad to see me in good health, Courtier. Do help yourself to a bowl of tea.”

  “No thank you, I don’t drink it. You wanted to tell me—

  “First I want to say that we will continue to investigate the murder of Sketh. Then I will tell you this, Osset, and you must tell your Governor: in her country Ekket is a child who can be married off by her parents. In your country it may be legal to force sexual attentions on a bride, but a young person of Ekket’s age is too young to marry in your country. I know what your laws say. For legal purposes right now, Ekket is not a child and may go where she wishes, and while she refuses to press charges against your Governor, neither will she agree to go with him under any circumstance. If he cannot accept that decision I will have my superiors repeat it to him.”

  Osset left without a word.

  So, Ravat, I did your work for you.

  Vannar, I did your work for you.

  Sleep, sleep … Tharma, you need sleep.

  Beyond

  Is this manifestation of an alien Mind actual or some mental dysfunction?

  The Lyhhrt answered the unspoken thought: “It is actual.”

  “Could that possibly be the alien who created the ship?”

  “I don’t know what its nature is, Archivist. You are the one that seems to have caught its attention.”

  The door-chime sounded.

  “A young woman we do not know,” the Lyhhrt said. For some reason the words added to the dread Hasso was already feeling.

  “Come in,” he called, and when the door slid open the young woman stood there smiling.

  “I’m Officer Dritta,” she said. “My Supervisor Tharma has requested that I guard the lady Ekket while she travels to her friends in Port Dewpoint—”

  The Lyhhrt could not keep his young impulsive mind from whispering, (:she has an Other:) … and Hasso thought his heart would explode—

  “—and that she hoped both of you would join us on the train tomorrow to make a safer company for everyone.”

  Hasso’s heart beat and beat—

  The Lyhhrt said quickly, “We would be very glad to join you, Officer.”

  “Good.” At the door she turned for a moment to say to Hasso, “You are Hasso the Archivist, are you not?”

  Hasso swallowed hard. “Yes.”

  “We studied much of your work in our Records courses. My Supervisor Tharma greatly respects you.”

  Hasso saw that her young face was full of joy. “Thank you, Officer … and thank your Supervisor for me.”

  After the door shut, Hasso said nothing for a few moments. Then, “You told me that you would never leave while that Lyhhrt was here.”

  “I don’t believe he will be much longer. The Isthmuses group has been accusing Gorodek of threatening their shores and Tharma has ordered him to leave. They will be on the same train and the same ship up to the Equatorial River. I will keep good track of that one.”

  “Our whole mission has strangely dissolved itself.”

  “Not mine.”

  Once again Hasso had no answer, and looked out at the deep sky and its noon stars. Being, take care how you use me, for your glass may crack and shatter.

  SIX

  Fthel IV, Bonzador: Stirring

  Rrengha had taken to running at night: her ancestors had been nocturnal, and running stilled the nightmares. No one saw her run, her red fur vanished in darkness. Sometimes her mind reached Ned’s along with a scent, a sound, a stray thought she had picked up in the tracts of brush she was traversing among the five camps.

  Looking, esping, listening for trouble.

  One night Ruah, the Meshar woman, crept into Ned’s tent. She had been barracked with Rrengha on the presumption that because both had fur they would get on together. She curled up against Ned’s back like a cat, or the local animal his people called a cat, for there were no world-grown ones. More like a cat than fierce Rrengha.

  She whispered in Ned’s ear, “When the Big One was here I couldn’t bear to be with her, now she’s not here I don’t want to be alone.” Her breath smelled like cloves, but her canines were as long as her claws and her ears high and pointed. In daylight her eyes were like black seeds swimming in red membrane. She wrapped her black arrow of a tail around Ned’s hip and he felt only his daily fear and fell asleep while she murmured of her love for her fiercely storm-beaten world. In the morning she was gone, either to another camp or perhaps teleported to somewhere else entirely.

  Yawning, he asked Rrengha, What have you found?: But she was asleep by then and made sure no one roused her.

  When she woke she said, “Watch Spartakos.”

  “Whatsit?”

  “Look.” She raised a forefoot, he followed the direction and saw Spartakos herding a score of O’e to breakfast in straight ranks and files with others running to join them, and Azzah skipping along the lines to keep them in order. She was laughing.

  “First time I’ve seen her laughing,” Ned said.

  “That is not what I mean.”

  “Yeh.”

  “There are more O’e here than there were when we come. They move from other camps to be with Spartakos. They persuade others to fill their places.” There were head-counts but no roll-calls in the camps.

  “Eh, the screws here will think it’s a challenge?”

  “What do you think?” Rrengha asked, wanting to know.

  Ned thought so, and went to stand in the breakfast line with Spartakos. “Not too military, friend, or you’ll be mistaken for the real original.”

  “What do you mean, Ned? This is our friend Azzah leading all her people together.”

  Ned clenched his teeth, but there were no watchers nearby; the wind was licking up thick clouds from the east and there was a flurry to crowd into the mess tent. “I know that, Spartakos, but you don’t want our employers to think we’re building a private army.”

  “It may be that we will need one,” Spartakos said.

  Ned stared at him for an instant before the first fat raindrops spattered down hard and all the rigid lines broke up.

  I wonder if you’ve heard from your Maker? He did not want to know the answer, and robots are not telepaths. He watched Lek trying to make conversation with Azzah, and Azzah trying to decide if he was genuine or not. Ned did not know that either. But he turned back to Spartakos before he joined the breakfast line. He did not want to know the answer but asked anyway: “Did your Maker tell you he was coming back here?”

  “No, but he had promised before that he would never desert us,” Spartakos said quietly, subdued now.

  The reply sounded cooked and packaged to Ned; still, he believed it. Spartakos could choose to lie, but the lie would nullify his esthetic purity, and that of Lyhhr too.

  Not much use for that in these surroundings. Two tendays , the Lyhhrt had said … Maybe seventeen days left …

  Spartakos said, as if he had read Ned’s mind, “The Zarandu of Thanamar is in orbit around Fthel Five.”

  “You heard—?”

  “The Zarandu computer told me one-half chron ago. It always connects with me when we are in range.”

  As far as Ned knew a chron could be a day, an hour or a minute. “You could call for help!” He had traveled to Khagodis on the Zarandu, its first destination on the way to deeper reaches of the Galaxy.

  “It is a machine with limited duties, not a person. And my call out of here would be intercepted. That is what the watchtower is for.”

  Ned grunted. “I wonder how they can afford to ship on that.” The Zarandu was the greatest ship Ned knew o
f.

  “The ore carrier Raghavendra will be riding it—”

  “Heh, put us in a container? Thought they’d do it on the cheap.”

  The rain stopped in mid-morning, leaving the sky overcast and the ground covered with the scummy clay mud that comes up fast when thick growth eats loam.

  In early afternoon Ned was going for lunch, pulling off work gloves after a morning practicing guerilla tactics in the brush, followed by the usual session of cutting brush, when a gaunt man named Cawdor, whom Ned had met in the aircar on the way down, drove up in a tractor and pulled up by the mess tent splashing, stunner on shoulder and yelling, “You there!”

  Ned turned. Cawdor was pointing with a shaking finger at a group of O’e. “I mean that one there, that little fucker that’s trying to skin off! What the hell’s he doing here, he’s supposed to be in my camp! He stole my comm!” Jumping out running to grab the skinny O’e by the shirtfront, ripping the paper, “Where is it! You got it here somewhere!” Whacking him across the face forehand and backhand, Spartakos in mighty organ voice calling “STOP!” surging forward—

  Ned yelled, “Stop, Spartakos!” He’d been through this kind of thing once before and ended up with a badly bruised kidney.

  Cawdor yelled back at him, “You fucking better keep hold of Tin Man, Gattes!”

  “He’s a citizen, Cawdor, he does what he wants.”

  Spartakos stood still, and spoke calmly. “If he stole your comm, you will have it back.”

  The O’e clutched his shirt about him and cried in a thin wail, “I stole nothing! I have nothing!”

  Cawdor rounded on Spartakos, snarling, “You got all them coming here to hang around with you! What you think this is, a playground? I want everybody belongs in my camp in my camp an’ if I don’t get that comm back you don’t know the trouble you’ll get!”

  Behind Ned the other O’e were clamoring in their high thin voices and he began to be afraid that Azzah might lead them into battle. Gretorix pushed through them yelling for order. “Your comm isn’t here, now get back where you belong, Cawdor!”