Rhythm of the Imperium - eARC

by Jody Lynn Nye

  “It cares for her, as much as it can,” I said, casting my mind desperately back to see if she had ever caused them to do anything other than what they had intended. “They don’t understand her as well as they seem to comprehend the Kail. These silicon beasts have managed to bend the Zang to their dreams of revenge, through their shrieking and dancing. I am not sure if there is anything we can do to stop this event. If they are thwarted, the Kail are still capable of corrupting the technology around them, and putting thousands of lives in danger. If there was any way that we could take the Zang aside and tell them what a terrible idea it is to perform a second demolition.”

  Parsons looked glum. “It is unfortunate, my lord, that we do not possess the vocabulary to persuade the Zang. I shall have to set some drastic measures into operation.”

  An idea struck me, so absurd and yet so perfect, that I turned to Parsons, hope shining in my eyes.

  “What if the Kail don’t know that they are being undermined, Parsons? What if . . .” I took a deep breath. “What if I can tell the Zang how important . . . those coordinates . . . are to us, without the Kail knowing what I am doing?”

  Parsons eyed me with something approaching curiosity. “They have NR-111 to translate Standard speech for them, my lord. They will know what you are telling the Zang.”

  “I don’t intend to use speech at all,” I said. I straightened my back, and put every erg of persuasion into my posture as I could muster. “Parsons, I need you to release me from my promise.”

  “From which one?” he asked.

  “The most recent promise but one,” I said. Knowing Parsons as I did, he could recall every obligation under which he had put me since I was a small child. It should be the work of a moment to remember what was the penultimate assurance he had wrung from me. I waited, my eyes full of hope. His left brow rose less than a millimeter on his smooth brow. I could have crowed with joy. He remembered!

  “Very well, my lord,” Parsons said, gravely. “I release you from that particular word. I hope that you will be successful.”

  “I will be,” I said, steeling myself for the greatest struggle of my life. “Everything counts upon it.”

  CHAPTER 42

  “Uncle Laurence,” I said into the audio pickup of my viewpad as I ran. “It was so good to hear from you recently. I regret that we were unable to have any time together. I had a splendid suggestion: why don’t you bring Elena and the young ones on a visit, right away! I am in the Zang end of Imperium space aboard the T.U. Hraklion, about to watch a Zang spectacle. Please come. This one will really strike home. I know we would all like to see you. Don’t hesitate. Please do contact me when you receive this. Waiting breathlessly to hear.” I heard the whooshing noise as the message departed. I had no idea if it would reach him in time. All I could do was hope.

  I threaded my way through the crowd, toward the Zang’s enclosure. Through the translucent wall, I could see Laine among the five members of the Elder Race, listening and nodding her head, with a handful of Trade Union officers behind her. The Kail, along with poor NR-111, stood close by. They must be very pleased with themselves, I thought with some asperity. How dare they consider destroying humanity’s birthplace!

  “I’m sorry, Lord Thomas,” said one of the Trade Union security guards who stood by the door. “You can’t go in there now.”

  I fixed the woman with a winning smile, trying to cover my worry.

  “I don’t need to go inside, but I would very much like to speak with Dr. Derrida. Would you be so kind as to ask her to step outside for a moment?”

  The guard saw no reason not to grant my request. She left the door in the charge of her comrade and passed inside. She stood politely by until Laine excused herself from the midst of the Zang, and escorted her in my direction. I could hardly keep still. All of my protective instincts were bounding up and down inside me, screaming to be let out. I must keep calm, I told them. Everything depends upon it.

  “What is it, Thomas?” Laine asked. “I’m still working out how far and where the Zang want us to go. The Kail have the coordinates. They could make this a lot easier by just giving them to me, but they won’t.”

  “They are being exactly as cooperative as they were on the way here,” I said, with a dash of debonair humor that cost me dearly to feign. My heart was pounding hard enough to be audible at five paces already. “I don’t suppose it would be possible to persuade the Zang against this action, would it?”

  “Why?” Laine asked. “This is their art form. It’s a great honor to be able to witness them in action. I thought you wanted to see them do it.”

  No help there. I could not explain to her for fear of word getting back to the Kail. Instead, I took a deep breath. “In that case, I wanted you to offer the Zang a gift from me.”

  “Really?” Laine asked, her eyes lighting up. “What kind of gift?”

  I cleared my throat modestly. “I have composed a dance to celebrate their artistic achievements. If you would ask them to permit me, I would like to perform it for them.”

  Laine smiled. “That would be wonderful!” she said. “I’ll check with Proton. It’s interested in things humans do. I’m not completely sure the others will notice, though. You know what they’re like.”

  My heart sank. “They seem to have been listening closely to the Kail,” I said.

  “Just Low Zang,” Laine said. “That’s been kind of strange. I wouldn’t have thought it would like Kail, because they’re so rough. But it’s worth it even if only Proton watches you. How long do you need to prepare?”

  “Within the hour?” I suggested. My voice quavered ever so slightly. I hoped she didn’t notice. “The sooner the better.”

  She touched my hand. “I’ll do what I can.”

  “So shall I,” I said.

  Laine returned to the chamber and stepped up onto the platform close to Proton Zang. The lofty pillar edged away from its fellows toward her. Laine talked to it, her hands moving with graceful animation. The Zang didn’t turn to face her, but after a moment, she smiled. She looked toward the door where I was standing, although I knew she could not see me through the one-way substance, and raised her right hand. Thumbs up.

  I hurried away. Only an hour to prepare.

  Word had definitely spread abroad of the second spectacle. Groups that had arrived separately, like the Wichu and Imperium visitors, were mingled together in mutual celebration, bottles and trays making the rounds. Even my cousins had added to their happy crowd, with fourteen Uctu and a Croctoid, as well as a number of visitors from the Trade Union and all of our adjunct staff. Lieutenant Plet sprang to her feet as I arrived.

  “Sir,” she said.

  “At ease,” I replied, glancing around the group until I saw my quarry. “We are on holiday, for at least a while longer. Ah, Madame Deirdre! May I have a word with you in private?”

  My teacher rose like a swan taking flight. “Of course, Lord Thomas!”

  Nell, across the circle, in between Oskelev and a couple of very well-dressed Uctu nobles, nodded to me meaningfully. I nodded back. She beamed. I raised a forefinger to my lips, and she nodded again.

  “I require your assistance,” I said, as Madame Deirdre and I hurried down the lift toward my cabin. “I need your help—an unbelievably important matter depends upon it.”

  “I am at your service, of course,” she said. “May I ask what?”

  I pulled her into my sitting room, shut the hall door and bent to meet her eyes. “I am about to dance for the Zang. Nothing has ever meant as much as this one, single performance. I need you to confirm that this is the most persuasive plea that you have ever beheld. No error is possible, and I have only an hour in which to rehearse.”

  She held her chin up and settled into a chair. “Very well, then. Let me see it. I promise I will hold back nothing.”

  Together, we went into intense preparation. As I arranged myself into my opening position, I felt the platform shift. Laine, unknowingly, was helping to c
arry the means of destruction and vengeance toward a helpless and innocent world.

  Weeks before, we had choreographed a welcoming dance in which I presented all that the Imperium had to offer to the Zang. I displayed gratitude, curiosity, honor and awe, set to a sweeping, beautiful melody full of warm tenor strings and warbling flutes. I maintained the honor and awe, but I substituted for the others movements to convey the concept of Earth and all that it meant to me and my race, with nostalgia evergreen in my heart, and a heartfelt and humble plea to spare it. I had been observing not only Proton from the time it had come on board our ship, but the Zang in company. I was certain I could construct a dance of such meaning that it would be comprehensible to the Zang without being transparent to the Kail. At least, I thought, remembering the stiff stone faces, I hoped so. If I managed to get through to any of the Zang, I wanted to make them halt their action. They had already accomplished one goal. They did not need to do it again, particularly not to something that was so precious to me.

  I threw my entire soul into the dance. Every move had all the power and grace of which I was capable. I drew the solar system with its dear little sun at the center. All its planets were beautiful to behold, but the one I drew to my breast, to give it protection and love against the onrush of doom, was the planet Earth. The blue globe, which I could still see so clearly in my mind’s eye, must not fall, especially not for the sake of a work of art. Earth was nature’s own masterpiece. It must be preserved.

  When at last I sank to the floor, my body curled protectively around the small globe, I heard frantic applause.

  “Oh, bravo, Lord Thomas, bravo!”

  I looked up. Madame Deirdre sat bolt upright, clapping her hands. Bright streaks drew lines down both cheeks. She had been moved to tears.

  “Was it . . . evocative?” I asked. She beamed.

  “My dear, you have never been better. It will rip the hearts from anyone who witnesses it. That is not what we rehearsed, of course.”

  “My aim has changed,” I said. “Will it serve?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, then eyed me with a speculative gaze. “That second movement, when you began to draw a star. Let’s go over that again. I think we can make it stronger.”

  I rose to my feet, my soul brimming with gratitude.

  The meager hour flew by. Before I knew it, the public address system came to life with a trumpet fanfare.

  “My lords and ladies, friends and companions, this is an official announcement! The Trade Union vessel Hraklion is proud to announce that the Zang have consented to favor us with a second star-exploding spectacle! We are just getting underway to a mystery destination chosen by our friends the Kail. We will travel through one jump point on our way. You can leave your ships in this orbit, or have them follow us through. In the meantime, we have a special surprise for you! Lord Thomas Kinago, of the Imperium noble family, a talented dancer and choreographer, will perform a dance for you! It will be carried on all station vidscreens in just about ten minutes! You won’t want to miss this. Thanks for your attention.”

  The message was repeated in eight different languages, including the uncouth grunts of Kail speech. The very thought that they had targeted my people’s motherworld over an unfulfilled threat against their own added steel to my spine. I changed into my dance costume, pulled on my boots and combed my hair. Then I held out my hand to Madame Deirdre.

  “Come with me,” I said. “We are going to change the future.”

  Phutes eyed the bouncing human warily as he strode into the Zang’s enclosure. A hundred hovering camera eyes followed him and the small, thin female. They joined the other human, who gestured enthusiastically.

  “What are they saying?” he asked the serverbot.

  “Lord Thomas is offering a dance in honor of the Zang,” NR-111 replied.

  “More moving around? Do they not make us sick enough by their very presence?” Sofus asked, with a disgusted noise.

  “It makes no difference,” Mrdus said. “He doesn’t know, but he will shortly have to perform a dirge. Fovrates and the others are looking forward to the destruction of the humans’ motherworld.”

  “My pet begs us to pay attention to this other human,” Proton said, as the tall ephemeral mounted the platform in their midst.

  “What for?” Zang Quark asked, radiating querulous impatience. “He radiates disharmony. I do not wish my serenity to be compromised by irregular emissions. I am already out of sorts having to prepare for a second disintegration so soon. And moving within this human shell instead of freely on the waves of space is not comfortable.”

  “We are less than .5 hexaprag from the designated coordinates,” One Zang said. “Those are familiar to me, as they should be to you.”

  “Ah, yes,” Charm said. “It was a well-laid-out system at one time. The humans fled from it .002 hexeons ago. It is not far, Quark.”

  “It is an unnecessary annoyance.”

  Low Zang did not speak, but emitted uneasiness. Charm was quick to sense it.

  “We have already agreed to follow Low Zang’s lead. It is but a moment in time.”

  “Why this human?” Quark argued. “At least Proton’s pet exhibits a serenity similar to our own. This one shows a major disturbance in its psyche. You perceive that burst of blue energy in its aura?”

  “That is the most interesting thing about it,” Proton said. “Few of the humans ever evince that kind of brilliance.”

  “What an amusing shell it has donned,” Charm said. “It is a flat two-dimensional representation of a solar blast. It’s more than they are capable of creating themselves.”

  “Aspiration is no bad thing,” One Zang said.

  Sound waves in the middle frequencies started up. Zang Quark evinced discontent, although the music was not disharmonious. It was primitive, compared with the sonic emissions of the stars, but humans had not evolved sophisticated enough means of listening to ever have heard them. Still, One Zang observed, this had similarities.

  The serene ephemeral, Proton’s charge, indicated the lanky human as the main object of its protection, inviting the Zang to pay closer heed to it. Such a hasty connection was not in the Zang’s usual custom, but it felt a .00002% curiosity arise. It might be enough to hold its attention. The creature moved in an energetic fashion, at approximately .016 of the speed of a comet in a gravity well.

  He flitted about from place to place within the circle at the center of the chamber. The movements were tentative at first, not impinging at all on the Zangs’ reality, but the blue energy that it gave off grew in intensity. His motions caused his aura to increase from a nominal .5%, scarcely worth observing, to 3%, and thence to 7%. Such passion was something that One Zang had not expected of such an ephemeral species. It was touched to see that a primitive being would be able to express fierce, strong emotions that approached reality. Then it realized, as did its companions, that the human was creating a star.

  All of the human’s energy focused upon one single point. One Zang was delighted to see that he brought this star into being, furnishing it with the light and heat of a burning point in space. Its influence extended outward, to the cold grains of stone that it drew into its orbit and warmed until they produced life. Not all, but one. One Zang could not help but be moved at how tenderly the human cradled and cherished the single tiny globe. If he had had the power of the Zang, he could have made this star and these planets, but as he was a mere human, all he could do was draw them into being as hypothetical entities in his unsophisticated fashion. Still, to One Zang’s surprise, it could allow itself to believe in the reality the human was creating.

  “Is that a planet he is showing us?” Charm asked. “How beautiful! I had not thought that humans were capable of such passion and powers of creation.”

  “Nor would I,” Proton said. “This is . . . almost real. It could be .0000002% Zang in its intensity.

  “What world is it that he seeks to protect?” Quark inquired. “Not that what a human feels is impo
rtant.”

  “It is important enough that he enlisted my pet to bring it to us,” Proton remarked. “He is pleading for its life. It must be the planet that Low Zang wants us to remove.”

  “He has expressed a longing for eternity and safety,” Charm said. “Like their bodies are rooted in their corporeal form but extend outward over parsecs and light years, the system he wishes us to leave intact has meaning that extends throughout all of his kind. It is poetry. I did not think humans were capable of poetry.”

  “I feel,” One Zang said, thoughtfully, “that we should reconsider our action. It is not necessary. If I recall the system, the planets lie in splendid balance. You and I, Charm Zang, did some very beautiful work upon it many hexeons ago.”

  “I remember it well,” Charm Zang said, fondly. “The system itself is a mere nucleus in the heart of its heliopause, less than .001, but with such a fine variety of spheres within it.”

  “Has anything fundamental changed in it since then?” Zang Quark asked, as the human gyrated before them. He seemed to be caught in a maelstrom that caused the energy he was emitting to veer toward the ultraviolet, as if in distress.

  “No,” One Zang said, feeling out with its senses. “It is as it has been.”

  “Then we should reconsider whether to do anything at all. Art is not necessarily served by changing a piece again and again.”

  “Sometimes it is,” Charm reminded it. “But in this case, perhaps not.”

  “No!” Low Zang protested, feeling its influence being syphoned away. “The Kail wish that planet to be put out.”

  “But why? If it is so precious, as this human is demonstrating to us, shouldn’t it be permitted to continue to exist?”

  “It is no longer functional,” Low Zang said. “The Kail insist that is true.”

  “Not so. We have protected it in our space for many hexeons,” One Zang pointed out. “It is a beautiful thing. You yourself once criticized our action in extinguishing a sphere, thinking that it might have had a purpose in future. Would you not say the same about this one?”