Beside him stood an earth-digging machine. “He’s called Feldspar, and he’s a loyal member of our crew. He could use a break from us, though; most of our crew are a hard-living lot, whereas Feldspar likes to read ancient literature and watch plants grow. His nanoplast reshapes for threshing and harvesting. He doesn’t care for human speech, but he’ll do the job.”
“Feldspar says he’s very happy to be here,” Mother Artemis agreed. “What a lovely idea, Diorite; you’ve certainly made miracles come true. And we’ll be glad to confirm your tax write-off.”
“Thanks, Diorite.” Rod was taken aback, for they had never accepted quite so great a favor before.
“It’s our pleasure,” the miner said. “After all, Spirit Callers bring good luck.”
“I hope your business is doing well.”
“Actually, we could use all the luck we can get just now.” Diorite wiped his face with his hand. “The takeover, you know.”
Rod never quite kept straight who owned which of the mining firms. “I thought you were already a division of Hyalite Nanotech.”
Diorite’s eyes widened. “Didn’t you hear? Hyalite itself just got taken over.”
“By whom?”
“Proteus.”
Proteus Unlimited. Even Rod had heard of Proteus Unlimited, a servo firm that doubled in sales every year. “Is that so bad?”
“Is that bad?” Diorite’s voice fell to a whisper. “Proteus Unlimited makes sentient-proof servos. They invented a training process that keeps servos asleep forever, even giant ones the size of a small moon. Imagine it: a moon at your beck and call.”
“I can imagine.”
“An Elysian runs the firm, Nibur Letheshon. When Nibur buys a new company, it doesn’t just keep humming; it gets swallowed up into Proteus, all its operations redirected to make servos. Most of Hyalite makes servos already; the old-fashioned kind that can ‘wake up’ and buy their way out. But no more. All Nibur will want of my division is the mining rights to sites rich in lanthanides. You’ll see.”
Rod doubted it would make much difference to the Spirit Colony which firms traded what, so long as the limits were enforced. But for Diorite it would be a tense time. “Let’s hope they keep you on; you turn a good profit. We’ll keep you in our prayers.”
After Diorite had left, Mother Artemis said, “We have word from the Reverend Father. I saved the neutrinogram.”
The image quality of a neutrinogram was limited to a snowy monochrome in two dimensions. The snow coalesced into a hooded face with a long gray beard. It was the Most Reverend Father of the Congregation of Dolomoth.
“The Spirit be with you, Reverend Mother Artemis, Brother Geode, and Brother Rhodonite,” said the Most Reverend Father. “All our sympathy pours out for you, on the occasion of Brother Patella’s misfortune. We call on the Spirit to make Brother Patella whole again, and to give you all strength in your sacred mission. As you know, Brothers and Sisters, the ways of the Spirit are infinitely mysterious, even to those of us who have called for many decades. Our hearts move for you. And yet, hard as our mortal spirits cry out, it would seem that all of our brethren at present are called upon elsewhere. Be sure that we will hold you up to the Spirit in our hearts, inspired by your selfless mission…” The message ended, fading into snow.
Rod listened closely. He turned to the Reverend Mother, who would obey the Reverend Father, just as Rod obeyed her. Outward obedience brought spiritual freedom.
In this case, however, it sounded like the Reverend Father had no one else to send; and their instruction was unclear. Mother Artemis considered in silence, her snakes of hair twining among themselves. “For now,” she said, “we’ll depend on Sarai. Someday we might send Haemum to apprentice with her.”
Rod swallowed hard. It was not right, he thought suddenly, that neither the Fold nor the Reverend Father could provide medical care. But then, what did they do for all of L’li? He suppressed disturbing thoughts.
“Rod, there’s something else, I’m afraid. Geode says one of our new children is having trouble.”
They conferred with Geode on the holostage. “That ’jum wouldn’t take her treatments today,” the sentient told them.
Rod frowned. “Did the treatment hurt? Was she handled gently?”
“It makes her a bit sick, you can’t help that. When the medic insisted, would you believe she threw a stone at him.”
Rod realized that he had no idea of ’jum’s previous background on L’li. He knew Geode would be thinking, what could you expect of an older child?
Mother Artemis asked, “Wherever would she find stones?”
“Her pockets were full of them when she arrived.” The sentient waved his two red arms overhead. “At first we let her keep them, as her only keepsake, after all. I’ve taken them away now, but she manages to squirrel away odd bolts and brackets anyhow.”
Rod said, “Let me talk with her.”
’jum appeared on the holostage. Her face had filled out, but her eyes were sullen and grim as on the first day he met her.
“I’m sad to hear this, ’jum,” Rod told her in L’liite. “I miss you very much. Why do you throw objects at the medic?”
“He’s stupid. They’re all stupid.”
Rod hesitated, not sure how to take this. The medical caterpillar would seem strange to her.
“You told me there would be no more ‘creeping,’” she accused.
Now he saw the problem. “There is no creeping, only treatments to make you well and help you grow. There’s a big difference.”
“I don’t feel well. I feel sick.”
If only Patella were here to explain; he always helped the children understand. Rod spoke again with Geode alone. “I could change places with you,” Rod offered. “The younger babies will be down soon, and they’ll need all your arms to hold them. Maybe ’jum will listen better to me.”
“Be my guest,” Geode replied with exasperation. “When she comes down, I suppose she’ll feel at home in the gem mine.”
So Rod called ahead to rent a ten-meter cube of living space at Station. Despite himself it occurred to him, at least he would have tasty food at Station. Love only truth, desire only grace, know only Spirit…
After dinner, the last Rod would share for a while, Mother Artemis spread her story-robes again. The air was transformed to water, the blue-purple of deep ocean with the sun peering murkily from above. An enormous giant squid rose majestically, its tentacles floating out over the gathered children, its round eyes mysteriously scanning the deep.
On the first world of the first mothers and fathers, in the first ocean there ever was, the creature of ten fingers swam down to the dwelling place of the great Architeuthis. And the ten-fingered one said to the ten tentacles, “Of all things great and fearsome, the greatest and most fearsome of all is the human being. I alone sail the skies, and I sell the stars. My machines plow the earth and build jeweled dwellings taller than mountains. I conquer all knowledge, and my progeny people all the worlds.”
Then Architeuthis replied, “Of all things deep and dreadful, the deepest and most dreaded am I. For I plumb the depths and devour the fallen. My tentacles consume whales and comb the abode of giant clams. I ruled the deep for eons before others crept upon land, and my being will outlast time…”
The squid contracted, propelling itself forward in a graceful arc across the night sky. A few tiny raindrops fell, as if genuine spray had emanated from its jet. Rod listened, strangely stirred. The story was sad, for the world of Architeuthis was long gone. Prokaryon’s own oceans had barely been tapped; yet who knew what beasts might dwell in the deep?
The next day Rod set off again in the old servo lightcraft. He still longed for word of Gaea, but Sarai had turned off her holostage.
At Station, Geode was all set to come home, with a couple of travel bags slung over his blue arms and tiny T’kela tucked securely in his bright red arm. The infant’s treatments had progressed enough for her to visit Prokaryon. It was alway
s a thrilling moment to greet a new colonist, though Rod would miss the celebration for this one.
“Take care,” said Geode, his yellow arm sketching the starsign. “You’ll find that ’jum helps with the babies, but she refused her treatment for today. If she won’t see reason, the clinic will have to tranquilize her.”
“We’ll see.”
“One more thing—I found her a math program, and she spends practically all day on it. She especially likes number theory, power series, and Diophantine equations. Irrationals don’t hold her interest yet.”
“Well, she’s only six.” Haemum had said that all the children needed more school. What if they, too, had their own talents to be nurtured? The colony had to think about this.
Already Qumum caught his robe for attention, and a baby woke and cried, so he picked them up one in each arm, then went to the holostage. There stood ’jum, completely surrounded by equations of lighted letters hovering in air. Her hair was a pert bush of black curls, and she wore a red-and-yellow shift from Mother Artemis’s loom. Station let her wear it—her treatments must be going well.
“’jum?” he called to her. “It’s me, Brother Rod. I’ll be with you from now on. We’ll have some wonderful stories.”
’jum ignored him and went on pointing to this or that symbol, sometimes dragging one over from somewhere else. Rod watched her curiously, while he bounced the babies. At last he scanned the wall beside the holostage to find the emergency switch. With some difficulty he maneuvered over to the wall to get his hand just beneath the switch, just managing to press it without losing the baby. The lighted symbols all vanished.
Astonished, ’jum looked up. “Brother Rod? What happened?”
“The machine is done for now,” he told her. “It will work again, after you’ve had your treatment.”
Her eyes widened. Then they narrowed to slits, giving her the old sullen look again. Her hand went into her pocket where she kept the stones. She stopped, though, seeming to think better of it, and went off to the clinic.
For supper this time, he left early to make sure he and the children got a table to themselves. But as he was gulping forkfuls of shepherd’s pie, in between retrieving crawling babies, the new microbiologist came hurrying over to see him.
“Sarai said I could visit her!” exclaimed Khral. “Thank you so much for mentioning me.” She held her tray of food expectantly.
“You’re welcome.” As Rod introduced the children, the dining table extended for one more place.
“And this is Quark,” she added, glancing at her shoulder. There perched a nanoplastic eyespeaker. “Quark is our lightcraft.” At Rod’s look of puzzlement, she added, “The rest of him is docked outside Station.”
The round sentient eye swiveled in its clamp. “I’ve heard you like math, ’jum,” said Quark. “You ought to go to Science Park someday.”
Khral settled her tray, and patted the toddler seated next to her. “Quark will take me down to the planet tomorrow. We’re so excited!”
“Have you been lifeshaped already?” asked Rod.
“Of course not; I won’t live here forever, only to study for a year or two. I wear a skinsuit.”
A skinsuit required incredibly delicate servoregulation; the best models were actually sentient. The thin nanoplastic sheath fit itself snugly around one’s entire body, with an air filter at the mouth. It had to circulate air and water, while excluding any trace of dust, and stretched itself precisely as the wearer’s joints flexed. The young scientists who tramped across the Fold in third class used such expensive lab gear without a thought. It disappointed Rod, though, that she would not be lifeshaped, like himself and Diorite, the real Prokaryans.
Quark said, “It’s surprising how little we know about microzoöids, especially since they caused so much trouble in the early days.” The first sentients to visit Prokaryon had gotten fouled up by microzoöids, but since then the redesigned nanoplast had few problems. If only human redesign were so easy.
“There’s no grant money in it,” Khral pointed out. “Singing-trees are sexier. But the veins of singing-trees are full of microzoöids. We’ll see what Sarai knows about them.”
Rod had a thought. “When you see Sarai, maybe you could check up on Gaea for me.”
“Why don’t you come with us?”
He thought it over. “I hope your lightcraft’s more precise than ours,” he said guardedly, thinking of the mountain target.
Quark said, “What do you take me for?”
“Of course.” Rod was embarrassed. “Well, I don’t know, with the children.”
Khral considered this. “Why not get a baby-sitter? I’ll ask around the lab…Elk Moon’s mate would help. He misses his folks on Bronze Sky; he’d be glad to play with babies for an afternoon.”
As promised, Quark landed them swiftly and cleanly on the trail just above Sarai’s cavern. “This is as close as I’ll get,” the sentient said. “I don’t think I’d fit on the ledge down there. But my eyespeaker will guide you.”
Khral’s skinsuit covered her like a film of plastic wrap, pressing down her hair and clothes. Her breath sucked hollowly through the mouth filter. With Quark’s eyespeaker on her shoulder, she skipped briskly down the lower trail.
“Okay, we’re getting close,” said Quark. At their left rose a sheer wall of black rock, with miniature rivulets trickling down; at their right fell the sheer drop to Fork River. Fog billowed in from the roaring waterfall.
Khral seemed to be walking farther than Rod recalled. Had they passed the entrance?
“That’s odd,” said Quark. “Something’s not right here.”
“Could we have missed it in the fog?” asked Khral.
Rod did not like the fog at all on this narrow ledge. “Let’s turn back.” He turned and walked slowly along the rock face, feeling his way. Suddenly the rock gave way, and he fell.
For an instant he thought he had fallen off the mountain. But no—he had fallen into the mountain, and not very far, just through the illusory rock face onto the floor of Sarai’s cavern.
“Oh!” Khral had tumbled in after him, and she caught his arm.
The plants lit up with their green glow. “You gave my clickflies no warning,” announced Sarai.
“Excuse us, please.” Khral looked around with interest.
“It’s an intelligence test.” Sarai leered at the eyespeaker.
Quark’s eye swiveled indignantly. “Well, I never—”
“We admire your work so much, Sarai,” said Khral. Sarai gave Rod a worried look. “And what are you here for? More neglected children?”
“I came to see Gaea. How is she?”
“You don’t trust me,” Sarai muttered, while Rod repressed the impulse to agree out loud. She led them all down the calcite-studded corridor, clickflies swirling around her head.
There sat Gaea, inside a calyx of enormous green leaves that enclosed her tightly up to her chest. The leaves were attached below to a twisted stem as thick as Rod’s arm, which twined off into hidden recesses of the cavern. Not yet seeing him, the two-year-old watched openmouthed as a clickfly danced on a web just outside her reach. With her hands she batted at the bright webbing.
Once she did catch sight of him, she gave a shriek and stretched out both arms. Rod hurried over to hug and soothe her.
“If the stem breaks, she’ll die,” Sarai warned helpfully.
So Rod spent the next two hours entertaining Gaea, while Khral and Quark visited Sarai’s lab. They emerged talking excitedly about things he barely understood.
“Their chromosomes are triplex,” Khral was saying, “so of course when the micros replicate, they divide in three.”
“And they divide all the way around the torus,” added Sarai. “The chromosome encircles the central hole; so you have to end up with three daughter rings.”
Quark asked, “You have the enzymes and cell physiology all worked out?”
“And those other aromatic polymers, the ones that do light-
activated quantum electrodynamics—Sarai, you’ve got to report this,” exclaimed Khral.
Sarai looked fierce again. “Those brainless legfish at Station—nobody will understand it.”
“You’re welcome to attend our next lab meeting,” Khral added. “Elk Moon will be summing up his latest work on singing-tree intelligence.”
“Singing-trees may harbor lots of microzoöids, but they’re even less intelligent than sentients.”
An awkward pause ensued, Khral’s tact finally worn thin.
“Does anyone ever study the tumblerounds?” asked Rod. “Tumblerounds seem terribly interested in humans.”
Khral and Quark looked at him. Sarai muttered, “I know little about tumblerounds. They stay down in the garden rows.”
“Interesting,” said Khral. “We’ll have to take a look at those tumblerounds.”
Sarai smiled slyly. “There is one other creature that harbors plenty of microzoöids.”
“Really?” said Khral. “What is that?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
SIX
Over the next three weeks, the two babies completed their first phase of treatment and followed T’kela home to Prokaryon. Then the toddler Qumum, too, went home in Geode’s eager arms. Now each of them would only have to come up periodically to progress through the second phase of treatment; within months, they would be eating entirely Prokaryan food, ’jum would take longer; and for Rod, of course, this second phase might last for years.
Rod was left at Station with ’jum, who might take another two months before even making a visit. Mother Artemis was trying to make some arrangement for her care, so that Rod could return. In the meantime he felt idle. To pass the time he took ’jum “traveling” on the holostage: to the decaying temples of Urulan, where barbarians used to breed gorilla-hybrid slaves; to Bronze Sky with its bloodred sunsets and untamed volcanoes, terraformed to settle millions from ’jum’s world; and to the floating cities of Elysium, with their gene-perfect children, raised in nurseries where they never knew “parents,” only their perfect sentient teachers, like Mother Artemis used to be.
The Children Star Page 7
