He started up. Every half dozen or so rungs, he rested, leaning his back against the rear of the cylinder. At length he reached the top and, with feet braced on a rung and his back pressed to the rear wall, he pushed against the obstruction—a massive stone slab. He groaned from exertion and pain as he forced his shoulder upward, but the slab would not budge. Then, dizzy and exhausted, he abandoned the effort and looked longingly at the hole. Although Roger might have been able to squirm through, Thorvald knew there was no way he himself could.
He called through the opening for help, but knew it was hopeless—the temple lay in the middle of nowhere. The chances of anyone hearing his shouts were all but nil.
After a few minutes of shouting and then listening for a response, Thorvald gave up and climbed down.
He dropped to the ground next to Roger. “How are you holding up?” he said with effort.
“What's wrong?"
“We'll have to wait for your friends,” said Thorvald. “There's a stone blocking the hole."
“All of it?” whispered Roger.
“What?” Thorvald wondered why Roger wanted to know, but felt glad that the boy was able to talk. “No. You'd be able to fit, but not me.” He tried to sound unconcerned but, in truth, he was afraid for both their lives—he was losing a lot of blood.
“You've got to get out,” said Roger.
“I can't."
“Maybe you can.” Roger seemed to be breathing and speaking more easily now. “My body is organic—except for the brain-case. That's where the telepresence module is."
Thorvald felt distinctly uncomfortable with the description of Roger as just a piece of hardware. “You don't have to talk about this."
“No, listen.” Roger lifted his head a few inches, then let it thud back down. “We didn't want any Earth people to know about this, so when this body dies, we can command the brain case to explode—to eliminate all traces of electronics."
“Roger, no. We can talk about this some other time."
“Please listen to me.” Roger took a few quick breaths. “So if you wedge my head into the pillar opening, and then take cover down here, I'll trigger the explosion."
“I couldn't do that."
“You have to try,” said Roger. “I'm not that heavy."
“No, I mean, it's not right."
Roger started a laugh that ended in a cough. “I thought you were a scientist. Be rational. Do it."
“No."
“You've got to,” whispered Roger.
“No!” The word echoed through the underground complex. “I told you, I'm not doing it."
Roger turned his head away.
“What's the matter?” said Thorvald.
“You've never shouted at me before."
“I'm sorry.” Thorvald sighed. “I am worried about losing blood.” He stood. “All right. But I don't like it."
He lifted Roger in his arms and carried him toward the base of the ladder. With Roger's head against his shoulder and cheek, Thorvald felt a growing tide of what he assumed was parental affection. He stopped and turned away from the pit. “I can't do this.” He wanted to hold the boy tight, but resisted for fear of doing injury. “I ... I love you, Roger. You may be an alien, but to me, you're the son I've never had. I just can't do it. We'll have to wait for your people."
Roger began to cry and the sound both surprised and anguished Thorvald; he'd never heard Roger cry and hadn't even known he was capable of it.
“What about me?” said Roger through labored sobs. “I don't want you to die. I couldn't stand that. I'm not a machine. I have feelings, too."
Thorvald felt his own eyes grow moist. “All right,” he said, softly, turning and walking once more toward the ladder.
He began to climb and, resting every two rungs, eventually reached the top. He thought briefly about trying again to force the slab, but realized it was hopeless.
“We're at the top now,” he whispered.
“I know,” said Roger. “Do it."
Thorvald shook his head. “It's hard."
“Please,” said Roger, through shallow coughs. “The telepresence is very faithful. This hurts a lot. But I won't disconnect until you do it."
Thorvald blew out a long breath. “Okay.” Gently, he pushed Roger upward, until the boy's head disappeared into the opening. Then, using his belt, he tied Roger to a rung.
“Good-bye,” whispered Thorvald, squeezing Roger's hand. He stroked the boy's hair, then climbed down the ladder.
Thorvald skirted the jagged slab and absently stooped to pick up the codex. Holding it gently, like an infant, he carried it back along the passageway.
To divert his thoughts, he considered reading it, but chose not to. It didn't seem fitting. Besides, once read, that door would never again close. Roger was right. He'd be merely a scribe. Roger. What have I done?
Continuing on to the far end of the grotto, he placed the codex back on its shelf and, while staring at the space ship engraving on the leather case, he waited.
The explosion came as a loud, low-pitched thud followed by a rain of debris, some of which sounded soft. Thorvald switched off his flashlight.
In the dark, he made his way to the ladders and looked up. Sunlight poured in through a ragged hole—and the hole looked big enough. Thorvald took a deep breath and wished he could hold it until he'd reached the top. Then, concentrating on the brightness from the opening and letting the sunlight dim his eyes to the horror on the walls, he began to climb.
Though not a religious man, nor even a believer, he nonetheless prayed that he'd be able to erase all memory of the climb ahead. When he got to a point about four feet down from the opening, he closed his eyes; he had to. But he couldn't block out the stench or the sticky feel of the rungs beneath his hands.
* * * *
Thorvald noticed first the crisp smell of clean sheets, and then the sound of someone calling his name. He forced open his eyes, then closed them again as stark, bright hospital lights flooded his vision. But finally, at the insistent calling of his name in a strange accent, he eased his eyes open.
“Professor Carpenter.” The words, heavy with Romanian overtones, came from a woman in white. “How are you feeling?"
He moved to sit up but abandoned the idea as a stab of pain pierced his abdomen and left shoulder. With the pain came the memory of the subterranean passages beneath the temple. And with the memory came a profound sense of loss—an emptiness that fit with the sterile whiteness of the hospital room. He turned his head away, gazing blankly at the window through which he could only see a leaden-gray overcast sky.
“Perhaps,” said the nurse as she pulled the bed covers up around his shoulders, “we should wait another day before allowing your son to see you."
“What?” Despite the pain, Thorvald forced himself to a sitting position, again rumpling the bedcovers. He saw that his left arm and torso were covered in bandages. “Please say that again.” He suspected her accent had deceived him.
“He seems to be a very nice boy.” The nurse smiled. “You should be proud. He's been waiting for a very long time."
“Send him in,” said Thorvald in a voice filled with confusion.
“I'm not sure you're quite ready to—"
“Please."
The nurse nodded and left the room.
Thorvald locked his eyes shut and tried to fill the gaps in his memory. He opened them again when he heard the click of the door latch and footsteps.
“Your son, Professor.” The nurse stepped aside, revealing the visitor.
“Roger!” Thorvald jerked forward, then, wincing at the pain of sudden movement, froze. “But ... But, you were...."
Roger sprang to the bedside. He wore the same clothes as when he'd first arrived on Earth.
“Hi, Dad."
“Roger?” Thorvald shook his head to clear his mind. “A spare?"
“Of course."
“Are you really Roger—my Roger?"
“Yes.” Roger chuckled. “D
on't you recognize me?"
Thorvald reached out his right arm, the one not covered in bandages. He pulled the boy to him and tousled his hair.
The nurse bustled to the door. “I'll leave you two alone.” She left the little hospital room and closed the door behind her.
Thorvald wrinkled his nose. “Dad?"
“The only way they'd let me in to see you."
“I don't remember getting here."
“You made it to the car and apparently passed out. Someone found you and drove you to the hospital. The car's in the hospital parking lot.” He wiped his hands on his shorts. “But boy, that temple is really a mess. I almost got stuck down there when I went back for the codex."
“You went back?” said Thorvald. “Alone? That was very dangerous."
Roger looked confused.
“All right, all right, maybe it wasn't dangerous. Not for you.” He patted the boy's knee. “Roger. I'm thrilled that you've come."
Roger lowered his head. “Our ship is preparing to leave."
Thorvald smiled, softly, trying to cover his sense of loss. Perhaps fate had done him no favor in bringing Roger back for a brief visit. For he knew the emptiness he'd felt before was just a foretaste of the long emptiness to come. He stared at Roger, trying to lock the boy's very essence into his memory. “I'll miss you very much."
Roger stood. “Come with us?"
“I'd like to,” said Thorvald, “but...” He thought about it and suddenly realized there was no “but.” Having lost his passion for science, there was really nothing left for him. Maybe he should consider the offer. “Don't you have to ask an adult?"
Roger pawed the ground with the tip of his shoe. “Actually,” he said, “I am an adult."
“Excuse me?"
“I'm the expedition's exosociologist, junior grade."
“Exosociologist.” Thorvald struggled to catch up.
“Junior grade,” said Roger. “You're very senior to me."
“You're an adult,” said Thorvald, his eyes wide, “and have been all this time?"
“Well.” Roger shrugged. “Yes."
“But you told me you were a kid."
“I don't think I did, exactly."
“Your appearance implied it."
“Maybe, but I didn't say it."
“That's a child's rationale.” Thorvald threw a glance at the ceiling. “What am I saying?"
Roger looked hurt—like a kid about to cry. Thorvald didn't know whether to laugh or to feel betrayed.
“Why can't you still like me?” said Roger. “Is it because Earth males can only love adults if they're women?” He wrinkled his nose, a mannerism he'd picked up from Thorvald. “No. That can't be it. You told me you love cats and dogs.” He looked forlornly down at his knees. “Then what's the difference?"
Thorvald softened. “I still like you.” He wondered why Roger still talked like a child, but chalked it up to a limited vocabulary. Or maybe it was just the fact that Roger was an explorer; everything on Earth must seem new and exciting. Then another thought struck him. “But,” he said, “but I hugged you—even kissed you."
“So?"
“Adult males do not go around hugging and kissing other adult males."
“Oh.” Roger wrinkled his nose. “Well, what if I were a woman?"
“Well, that would be different, of course. Still inappropriate, probably but.... “Thorvald stopped for a moment. “Are you?"
Roger hopped up and sat on the foot of Thorvald's bed. “Am I what?"
“A woman."
“The question doesn't mean anything. Our anatomies are very different from yours.” Roger wiggled his fingers and stared at them as if he'd never quite gotten used to them. “And you Earth mammals have a very interesting method of reproduction. Once, I asked a few of the Earth colonists if I could watch. They said no."
Despite himself, Thorvald smiled. “I can well imagine.” He rubbed a hand over his forehead and then blew out a breath. “Frankly, you still seem to act like a kid."
“When we first came here,” said Roger, “we analyzed your species. And we found that we behave very much like your teenagers or your scientists. We're a very enthusiastic people.” He looked at Thorvald with innocent eyes. “So it feels right to me that you treat me as if I were an Earthling kid."
“I can't now.” Thorvald let his head sink back onto the pillow. “It's like the door that does not close."
“But how do you really know I'm not the boy you call Roger?"
Thorvald lifted his head and stared. “You told me."
“Pretend I didn't.” Roger squinted. It looked as if he was thinking hard. “If you really want to,” he said, “you can close that door again.” Then he bit his lip. “You didn't read it, did you?"
“The codex?” Thorvald shook his head.
“Good.” Roger looked thoughtful. “Anyway, I shouldn't have made a big scene back there. That's ancient science. A lot of it is probably wrong."
Thorvald smiled. “I think I'd like your world. And I'd learn one hell of a lot of physics there."
For an instant, he had a twinge of conscience about using strong language in front of a child. He resisted the urge to slap himself.
“Then come with us,” said Roger. “As for theoretical physics, there's lots and lots of stuff to discover. You could be in on the hunt. Please come."
Thorvald thought deeply about it—as if he were evaluating a new theory. “You know...” he said after a half minute or so. “You know, I think I will."
“Great.” Roger laughed—the bell-like laugh of a delighted child. “I really think you'll have fun."
Thorvald chuckled. He reached out a hand, hesitated, then patted Roger on a knee. “Yes,” he said, “I really think I will."
Copyright © 2006 Carl Frederick
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
A New Order of Things: Part II of IV
by Edward M. Lerner
Civilization and its handmaiden, Technology, depend on trust—but that contains its own pitfalls.
* * * *
* * * *
Illustrated by John Allemand
* * * *
Synopsis
For a century and a half, a growing interstellar community has maintained radio contact. A vigorous commerce in intellectual property has accelerated the technical progress of all its members. Travel between the stars seems impossible, but InterstellarNet thrives using an elegant alternative: artificially intelligent surrogates who act as local representatives for distant societies. Quarantine procedures strictly govern the delivery and operational environment of each alien agent, protecting agents and their host networks from subversion by the other.
A radio message shatters this comfortable status quo. The signal comes from a habitat-sized decelerating interstellar vessel, its unannounced trip from Barnard's Star now ninety-nine percent complete. Citing damage en route and a shortage of supplies, the starship Victorious goes to Jupiter rather than Earth. The starship's crew are whippet-thin, iridescent-scaled, bipedal carnivores who call themselves Hunters. Humans refer to them as K'vithians, after their home world of K'vith, or, informally, as Snakes (because Barnard's Star lies in the constellation Ophiuchus, the Serpent Holder).
Not only humans are surprised by Victorious’ short-notice arrival. Pashwah, the AI trade agent on Earth for the Hunters, is also taken unawares. So are her internal sub-agents, the representatives of the Great Clans. Pashwah rejects the starship's unauthenticated demands for Great Clan InterstellarNet credits with which to buy supplies, but she does transmit to Victorious a translator and human-affairs advisor: a partial copy of herself named Pashwah-qith.
Pashwah-qith advises Firh Mashkith, Foremost of both Victorious and clan Arblen Ems, and Rashk Lothwer, Mashkith's tactical officer, how best to manipulate the human media.
Seemingly chance radar pulses from deep space trick free-lance media star Corinne Elman into breaking the news of the starship's imminent arriva
l. The pilot of her spaceship is Helmut Schiller. Helmut is hiding from a shadowed past: As Willem Vanderkellen, he had made a major mineral find in the Belt, only to fall afoul of a claim-jumping criminal syndicate.
Ambassador Hong-yee Chung assembles the United Planets response team, based on Callisto. His technical support team includes Interstellar Commerce Union executive and systems engineer Arthur Walsh, theoretical physicist Eva Gutierrez, and xeno-sociologistKeizo Matsunaga. The K'vithian explanation for picking Jupiter as their destination rings false to Art and Eva, who at different times worked at the UP laboratory on the Jovian moon Himalia. That is where the UP does its interstellar-drive research, and where it produces and stores antimatter in hopes this research will eventually bear fruit. The antimatter stockpile is vastly dangerous; its existence supposedly a tightly held secret.
T'bck Fwa is the long-time trade agent to humanity of the Unity: the intelligent species of Alpha Centauri A (popularly, the Centaurs). Unity authorities have ordered him to search for human antimatter and interstellar-drive research. His diligent data mining long ago revealed a clandestine human antimatter program on Himalia—and now a K'vithian starship has made Jupiter its destination. T'bck Fwa suspects a human/K'vithian conspiracy.
Most humans have forgotten, or at least forgiven, a half-century-earlier inter-species crisis. Art is not among them. The “Snake Subterfuge” involved a trapdoor hidden in licensed Snake biocomputer technology, potentially compromising most human infrastructure. That crisis ended when Pashwah was convinced that one corporation's extortion plans must not be allowed to undermine overall inter-species relations. The biocomputer vulnerability has long been removed.
Art's suspicions grow, as most of Victorious remains hidden from closely chaperoned human visitors. Chung finally begins to share Art's doubts when Mashkith gives Corinne an exclusive onboard interview. The accident en route has destroyed the starship's antimatter production equipment. Unless the UP provides antimatter for the return flight, Victorious is stranded.
Analog SFF, June 2006 Page 16
