Outreach tdt-3

by Jacqueline Lichtenberg

  Jindigar couldn’t imagine what more they’d care to see than they’d seen in the cave—an Oliat collapsing in the middle of a task. That wasn’t a rare enough sight for them? Of course, it seemed to them that the Oliat had survived. “Do they have to see someone die, Terab?”

  “Don’t go getting ideas! I’ll not be having any sacrifices around here!”

  But what else could reconvening his Oliat be but a sacrifice?

  Someone would die this time, and when it happened, perhaps he, unlike Takora, would be quick enough to cut the links and free his officers to their own fates.

  There was surely no other answer to be had. He had plumbed the depths of the Archive tracing and found nothing. He couldn’t just sit and review the same two minutes of history over and over while the colony starved—and worse, loosed into this innocent world a microlife construct unsuited to the world, perhaps uncontrollable within this ecology—perhaps creating another disaster such as Eithlarin had witnessed on Vistral.

  He took a deep breath and let it out, then said, “I’ll need the lab specs on that fungus, then we’ll want to view the Cassrian hatching pond–and does anyone have specimens of that blighted corn?” He swung around to meet the gazes of Llistyien and Venlagar. They knew, as well as he did, that they had no choice.

  SIX

  Breakin

  While word of the new crisis spread through the Dushau community and delegates went out to confer with ephemerals, Jindigar and Krinata spent the evening studying the lab work on the pond infestation and the fungus. Even without a Sentient computer the ephemerals had taken only a few hours after discovering the pond invaders to mutate and produce the fungus from a stock fungus used for pest control purposes on many Cassrian worlds. It should have been safe. But something had gone wrong.

  Phanphihy just doesn’t want us here?

  When Jindigar found his thoughts drifting in such a perilous direction—as if the Phanphihy delusion were taking hold of him as it had the Imperial troopers—he laid the study aside and went to talk to Trinarvil. He found her in her office with Zannesu and Eithlarin, discussing the side effects of pensone.

  As Jindigar entered, Trinarvil broke off and looked up. “You’re determined to take them into the field again?”

  Jindigar replied by reciting his findings. “We must consider our options very carefully,” he said. He spoke directly to Zannesu, who had prudently taken a seat as far from Eithlarin as he could. Both of them now had inflamed fingertips, just as Jindigar did. He put his hands behind his back. “I won’t demand this of anyone.”

  “One dissent and we don’t go?” asked Zannesu.

  “That’s right,” answered Jindigar.

  Trinarvil closed the folders before her. “Blood chemistries show that pensone will increase Eithlarin’s breakin phobia. She’s unstable, Jindigar, and Zannesu is such a close shaleiliu with her that he resonates to it.”

  “But Zannesu also stabilizes her,” Jindigar pointed out. “We must rest before deciding. Trinarvil, could you run blood chemistries on all of us tonight?”

  She pushed to her feet and leaned over the desk. “Certainly, but I can tell you the results right now. Inconclusive.”

  He knew she was right but didn’t know what else to do. The next morning, they discussed it all again and voted unanimously to work. Jindigar sent word to Threntisn that he wouldn’t be searching the Archive and took his Oliat into the Temple where he presented them with Trinarvil’s estimates of their individual need for pensone according to then– blood hormone levels—notoriously unreliable in early onset because the glands produced surges of hormone at irregular intervals. It was just such a surge that had conquered Darllanyu in the Holot cave.

  Darllanyu looked at the slip with her results on it, then folded it. “I told you before. I won’t go into the field without pensone. I almost killed us all last time.”

  Jindigar sagged. People who had used pensone usually gave up engendering their own children. And he’d so wanted Darllanyu’s children. A barren first mating such as they had shared in their First Renewals often left that nagging, unfulfilled feeling they had both endured for more than five thousand years.

  On the other hand, their lives depended on each others’ stability. And they would have to deal with the Cassrian reproductive process this time.

  The morning sun beaming through the skylight illuminated the far end of the Temple where the Hand of Fire stood—a carving made of Phanphihy wood. It was a Dushau hand, where each of the seven digits began as a bolt of lightning striking out of thin air, converging to form the palm of the hand in which nestled a bowl of water—with a live fish swimming in it. On the table beside it was a small plate of Phanphihy glass with the tiny pensone capsules arrayed on it. Next to that was a stack of empty glass plates, none any bigger than the palm of a hand.

  “I think,” said Jindigar, “that we should test ourselves for dosage. Anyone who merits a two-capsule dose both by kinesiology and blood test will take it. Reasonable?”

  No one objected. Jindigar went first, taking an empty plate and putting one capsule on it. He took it to the worldcircle under the skylight.

  The white gravel of the wedding circle had been cleared away, revealing the large wood carving of the Oliat symbol inlaid into the floor, an X balanced on the point of an arrow. When the officers took their places on the symbol, they stood within the worldcircle.

  His Oliat’s first official function had been the opening of the worldcircle, thus consecrating the Temple. Jindigar remembered how they had arranged themselves on the symbol that day. All Aliom practitioners qualified to help had surrounded the circle. Unsure how Krinata would affect the process, he had focused the Aliom community into one single mind-entity and sealed the world-energy leakage oozing up through the Temple floor in a foglike haze.

  Then, with the Temple floor sealed away from the world, Jindigar had made himself a gateway for the world’s energy, letting it erupt upward through him and sending it on up through the skylight and up into the life sphere of the planet. Much to his surprise, when they stepped out of the new worldcircle, it continued to spume energies skyward, and the rest of the floor remained clean of any static.

  His gaze rested on Krinata now. Either Krinata is Takora, and Dushau do sometimes reincarnate, or a worldcircle does not always dissipate when stepped on by someone not trained in Aliom. He wasn’t prepared to choose between these basic tenets right now. Perhaps he should ignite a testing circle to see if other humans could walk on it.

  He stepped into his place on the center of the Aliom symbol, feeling the tingle all over his skin nap, like bathing in an electric field. Only it had a deeper, healing effect very disturbing on the threshold of Renewal.

  Jindigar held the dish cupped in the palm of his hand, cradled against his waist, and held his other arm straight out in front of him, palm down. “Ready, Zannesu.”

  Zannesu touched Jindigar’s outstretched hand and applied a measured force. Slowly Jindigar’s arm sank toward the floor. By sheer willpower he was able to stop it at about a forty-five-degree angle. Adding a second capsule made Jindigar’s arm collapse instantly. Two capsules would be a poisonous dose for him right now.

  Jindigar tested Zannesu, then Zannesu and Llistyien tested everyone else—except Krinata. Darllanyu’s arm was strengthened to rock steadiness by three capsules and collapsed by four—the only one of them to exceed Jindigar’s standard.

  “Before you take it,” said Venlagar, “let’s test the Oliat with it.”

  “But that puts Krinata in it,” objected Zannesu. “Of course, it’s poison to her. We’ll have no strength.”

  “It’ll test our collective balance,” said Jindigar, though such principles didn’t always transpose neatly to other species.

  The Oliat joined in a line, arms circling one another’s waists, Dar at one end and Krinata at the other, Jindigar in the middle. Dar put the pensone down while Jindigar coached Krinata to heft a fire shovel, holding it at arm’s length
.

  The shovel barely cleared the floor. “I can’t lift it!”

  “Good,” replied Jindigar, and let up on the adjournment seals as he suggested, “Now, see if you can lift it.”

  She strained, and the shovel wobbled up waist-high. They were not in good balance. //Dar? You can go ahead.//

  She held the pensone to her, and Jindigar signaled Krinata, who raised the shovel again, exclaiming, //My God!// Her arm rose to shoulder height, supporting the shovel easily.;

  Zannesu observed, //Maybe we can do this after all.// .;

  As Darllanyu took the drug and waited for it to take effect, it Jindigar busied himself with Zannesu and Krinata, setting the foundation linkages. //Now, Krinata, I’m going to set the choke– link to you, so you won’t have to carry the brunt of this. You’ll be Outreach, completing the Oliat balance and allowing us to function, but you won’t be able to speak for us, and you’ll hardly feel what we’re doing.// If we were a glorified heptad before, now we’re a crippled one!’

  Earlier Krinata had agreed to the choke-link, a training device that was essentially a demotion for her. Jindigar felt tears stinging behind her eyes. Krinata, Lady Zavaronne, regarded fidelity as Aliom did—another meaning of shaleiliu, the congruence between what one said and what one did, what one alleged and what was fact. But she knew her word wasn’t strong enough to bind her actions. //Krinata, I know you won’t ever willingly take Center again. But you have the trained reflexes of a Center, and those reflexes will act. It would be the same for me.//

  She nodded. //Let’s get on with it.//

  Momentarily Jindigar wondered why he’d ever considered Krinata their weakest officer. He had to exert himself to keep any pace she set. He turned to watch Darllanyu seated cross-legged in the center of the worldcircle, shivering a little as the drug took effect.

  He felt the pressure abating even as he watched, producing in them both a sickening emptiness. It was a measure of how deeply they had linked themselves—even without the wedding. Her eyes met his, and he wasn’t sure he could compete in her league, either. But, oh, there was an exhilaration in the idea of showing her how easily he performed the greatest feats. And therein lay a danger, for adolescent bravado could not be permitted in a Center.

  Zannesu put a hand on Jindigar’s elbow. //Eithlarin says if we get out of this unscathed, she’ll offer to bear children for you two.//

  Touched to his core, Jindigar had to turn away, bury his face in his hands, and hold his breath against the keening wail of pain that rose in him. He forced it aside and turned back to his zunre. Krinata was right. They should get this over with quickly.

  Accompanied by their seven Dushau Outriders plus Storm’s whole crew, the Oliat arrived at the pond just before noon. The sun was bright in a clear sky, the breeze softened with the breath of summer. The pond had been dug out deeply, the dirt stacked all around to form a protective embankment. Water from an underground stream fed the pond, then drained into the river beyond. Wooden stairs led to the flat top of the embankment where a crowd had already gathered.

  As they climbed the outside stair mating calls of flyers filled the ah-. Young piols chased around in circles, their primary mating game. Parent piols with litters were well established in nesting holes on the inside of the embankment above the pond. There were eight of them now, and two gravid females, all of them fat on the fish appropriated from the Cassrians’ pond. Nobody minded, for they cherished the Cassrian eggs more than the Cassrians did.

  Jindigar put the animals out of his mind. Leaving the ephemeral Outriders with the crowd at the top of the embankment, the Oliat descended the two flights of wooden stairs and the winding trail down into the bowl holding the pond. The odor of putrefaction trapped in the deep cup holding the pond was overwhelming.

  At the bottom of the trail a large wooden platform had been built out over the placid water on piles, while an end section of it floated like a raft. At irregular intervals around the floating platform there were small weather-tight sheds. The Cassrian officials were gathered on the solid platform. Together with the representatives of the various Councils, they made quite a crowd.

  On the floating platform Trinarvil and her medics had set up a first-aid station for the Oliat in one of the sheds. Its door • now stood open, revealing a stack of Cassrian furniture shoved into one corner near a hole in the floor. Water sloshed through the hole as people moved about. Trinarvil’s crew had jigsawed seven cots into the shed, barely leaving room for themselves and some of the irradiating equipment and battery packs.

  Next to the shed’s open door, Threntisn sat in a chair, surrounded by four of his apprentice Historians who were fussing over him while he irritably pushed them aside. His teeth were too pale, and he looked shaky enough to be confined to bed. I’d no idea I’d put that much stress on him. If I hurt the Archive– Jindigar quelled that pang of fear and guilt. He couldn’t afford distractions now. Besides, if it were that bad, Threntisn wouldn’t be so determined to record this event that he had to be carried to the scene.

  As he made his way out onto the floating platform, Jindigar glanced back up at the spectators on the top of the embankment. Storm’s Outriders mingled with the Cassrians and the handful of others but remained vigilant.

  Jindigar had chosen to work under Dushau guard this time, because with the Outreach nonfunctional, they needed the Aliom-trained Dushau. Storm’s crew, as expert as they were, could not perceive the linkages directly, nor feel the Oliat attunement. And as well trained as the ephemerals were in field first aid for an Oliat, his own people under Trinarvil would be faster, surer, and more accurate. With Eithlarin’s increasing breakin sensitivity seconds could count.

  When it had been explained to Storm—“This Oliat would never ordinarily be convened off Dushaun”—he had readily agreed to keep his crew out of the way—but he had refused to wait in the barracks, saying, “Jindigar, there are reasons you’ve always chosen ephemeral Outriders for work off Dushaun. And this isn’t Dushaun.”

  Touched by the loyalty, Jindigar hadn’t argued.

  Gathering his officers at the floating end of the platform, Jindigar cautioned, //Mind your footing. With Krinata choked off it’s easy to become dizzy.// But they needed the space, and it helped to be in closer contact with the water they had to attune to. Jindigar, though, noted how their weight—so much more than fourteen Cassrians would weigh—sank the platform. But if they didn’t move much, they wouldn’t get their boots wet.

  //Venlagar?// prompted Jindigar when they were all set.

  The Receptor had been eyeing the scummy water with distaste, and as soon as Jindigar called in the link, the entire Oliat felt why. The natural steady state here had been thoroughly disrupted. All higher life forms in the water had died, and now the microlife proliferated unchecked, feasting on the flesh of more evolved beings—on the fish floating belly-lip on the surface, bloated or already disintegrating into a gelatinous scum, and on the Cassrian eggs that would never hatch to bring joy to their parents.

  Resolutely Jindigar steered them away from that thought. //Llistyien, have you noticed that the Cassrians are not very upset?//

  His Emulator answered, //Cassrians form no parental bond until they claim a hatchling. I never Emulated Cassrians before.// The Cassrian attitude toward their eggs engulfed the Oliat. The pond was the future of the community, nothing more. They did not feel as Dushau would about a nursery.

  The Cassrian eggs had not been the only higher life in the pond—in addition to the Gifters’ eggs, there had been swimmers and shelled bottom crawlers, amphibians and plant life in a carefully constructed balance, designed to support the emerging Cassrian hatchlings. Darllanyu, Llistyien and Zannesu had been the Oliat trio that created that design, but being only a trio, they’d been unable to anticipate the arrival of the Gifters.

  //Watch now, and you will learn how a full Oliat foresees the disruption of an ecology by peripheral forces.// Jindigar guided the focus lower, narrowing on the microproces
ses of the putrefying pond, letting his trio discern how the pond had been irresistible to the Gifters and how an Oliat would have thus become instantly aware of the Gifters’ existence. Routine extrapolation showed how the Gifter eggs had to intrude, and the ecosystem, which included the colonists, had to respond, creating the fungus.

  Having learned in the Holot cave how precarious his Oliat balance was, Jindigar had not intended to open the Oliat into lull attunement with Phanphihy. But as they grasped the inner mechanics of the pond life, Phanphihy seeped into the Oliat gestalt consciousness, so that the relationships binding colony and world evoked an exquisite shaleiliu.

  Everyone took the perception in stride except Eithlarin, who confused it with Vistral, the devastated world of her nightmares, and saw the mad proliferation of microlife in the pond as an ugly, revolting, and disgusting menace, far beyond the Oliat’s ability to cope with.

  For one second, as the Protector saw herself as the victim of overwhelming natural forces, the Oliat became the dead eggs eaten by myriads of tiny creatures, being invaded and consumed, degraded.

  As if they’d done the drill a thousand times, Jindigar and Zannesu functioned in perfect concert, closing the link to Eithlarin as her Outrider caught a whisper of what had happened and—as no ephemeral Outrider would dare—shook her hard to break her fixation while Jindigar and Zannesu reestablished the balance of the Oliat. Jindigar felt Krinata tense to go to Eithlarin’s aid, surely expecting Eithlarin’s shock to slam through the Oliat as if it were a breakin.

  But the Outrider’s touch was sure, and Eithlarin mastered her panic, turning wide eyes to Jindigar in apology.

  Simultaneously, up among the spectators, a scattering of grim newcomers worked their way through the crowd and came clattering down the stairs. Storm, gathering his crew with shouts, wormed his way through the press and started down the stairs after the others.