Part 8 (1/2)

”Surely you want people to know what you've seen?” Yet Della had always been strangely closemouthed about her time Out There.

She hesitated. ”Once I did. Now I'm not sure. There are people who don't want to know the truth... Wil, someone fired on me when I entered the Solar System.”

”What?” Brierson hoped his surprise sounded real. ”Who was it?”

”I don't know. I was a thousand AUs out, and the guns were automatic. My guess is Juan Chanson. He seems to be the most paranoid about outsiders, and I was clearly hyperbolic.”

Wil suddenly wondered about the ”aliens” Juan said he had destroyed. How many of them had been returning s.p.a.cers? Some of Juan's theories could be self-proving. ”You were lucky,” he said, probing gently, ”to get past an ambush.”

”Not lucky. I've been shot at before. Any time I'm less than a quarter light-year from a star, I'm ready to fight-usually ready to run, too.”

”So there are are other civilizations!” other civilizations!”

For a long moment, Della didn't answer. Her personality s.h.i.+fted yet again. Expression drained from her face, and she seemed almost as cold as in their first meetings.

”Intelligent life is a rare development.”

”I spent nine thousand years on this, spread across fifty million years of realtime. I averaged less than a twentieth light speed. But that was fast enough. I had time to visit the Large Magellanic Cloud and the Fornax System, besides our own galaxy. I had time to stop at tens of thousands of places, at astrophysical freaks and normal stars. I saw some strange things, mostly near deep gravity wells. Maybe it was engineering, but I couldn't prove it, even to myself.

”I found that most slow-spinning stars have planets. About ten percent of these have an Earth-type planet. And almost all such planets have life.

”If Monica Raines loves the purity of life without intelligence, she loves one of the most common things in the universe... In all my nine thousand years, I found two intelligent races.” Her eyes stared into Wil's. ”Both times I was too late. The first was in Fornax. I missed them by several billion years; even their asteroid settlements were ground to dust. There were no bobbles, and it was impossible to tell if their ending had been abrupt.

”The other was a nearer thing, both in s.p.a.ce and time: a G2 star about a third of the way around the Galaxy from here. The world was beautiful, larger than Earth, its atmosphere so dense that many plants were airborne. The race was centaur-like; I learned that much. I missed them by a couple of hundred megayears. Their databases had evaporated, but their s.p.a.ce settlements were almost undamaged.

”They had vanished just as abruptly as humankind did from Earth. One century they were there, the next-nothing. But there were differences. For one thing, there was no sign of nuclear war. For another, the centaur-folk had started a couple of interstellar colonies. I visited them. I found evidence of growing population, of independent technological progress, and then... their own Singularities. I lived two thousand years in those systems, spread out over a half megayear. I studied them as carefully as Chanson and Sanchez did our solar system.

”There were bobbles in the centaur systems. Not as many as near Earth, but this was a lot longer after their Singularity. I knew if I hung around, I'd run into somebody.”

”Did you?”

Della nodded. ”But what sort of person would you expect two hundred megayears after civilization?... The centaur came out shooting. I nuked out; I ran fifty light-years, past where the centaur had any interest. Then, over the next million years, I sneaked back. Sure enough, he was back in stasis, depending on occasional lookabouts and his autons for protection. I left plenty of robot transmitters, some with autons. If he gave them half a chance, they would teach him my language and convince him I was peaceful ...

”His realtime forces attacked the minute they heard my transmissions. I lost half my auton defense holding them off. I almost lost my life; that's where my db's were damaged. A thousand years later, the centaur himself came out of stasis. Then all all his forces attacked. Our machines fought another thousand years. The centaur stayed out of stasis the whole time. I learned a lot. He was willing to talk even if he had forgotten how to listen. his forces attacked. Our machines fought another thousand years. The centaur stayed out of stasis the whole time. I learned a lot. He was willing to talk even if he had forgotten how to listen.

”He was alone, had been the last twenty thousand years of his life. Once upon a time, he'd been no nuttier than most of us, but those twenty thousand years had burned the soul from him.” She was silent for a moment-thinking on what nine thousand years could do? ”He was caught on behavior tracks he could never-could never want to-break. He thought of his solar system as a mausoleum, to be protected from desecration. One by one, he had destroyed the last centaurs as they came out of stasis. He had fought at least four travelers from outside his system. G.o.d knows who they were-centaur s.p.a.cers, or 'Della Lus' of other races.

”But, like us, he couldn't replace his autons. He had lost most of them when I found him; I wouldn't have stood a chance a hundred megayears earlier. I suppose, if I had stayed long enough, I could have beaten him. The price would have been my living more thousands of years; the price would have been my my soul. In the end, I decided to let him be.” She was silent for a long while, the coldness slowly departing from her face, to be replaced by... tears? Were they for the last centaur-or for the millennia she had spent, never finding more than the mystery she began with? soul. In the end, I decided to let him be.” She was silent for a long while, the coldness slowly departing from her face, to be replaced by... tears? Were they for the last centaur-or for the millennia she had spent, never finding more than the mystery she began with?

”Nine thousand years... was not enough. Artifacts from beyond the Singularity are so vast that doubters can easily deny them. And the pattern of progress followed by vanishment can be twisted to any explanation-especially on Earth, where there are signs of war.”

There was a difference between Della's propaganda and the others', Wil realized. She was the only one who seemed plagued by uncertainty, by any continuing need for proof. It was hard to believe that such an ambiguous, doubt-ridden story could be an alien cover. h.e.l.l, she seemed more human than Chanson.

Della smiled but did not brush the wetness from her lashes. ”In the end, there is only one way to know for a fact what the Singularity is. You have to be there when it happens... The Korolevs have brought together everybody that's left. I think we have enough people. It may take a couple of centuries, but if we can restart civilization we will make our own Singularity. we will make our own Singularity.

”And this this time, I won't miss graduation night.” time, I won't miss graduation night.”

TWELVE.

Wil was at the North Sh.o.r.e party later that week.

Virtually everyone was there, even some high-techs.

Della and Yelen were absent-and Tammy was more or less forbidden from attending these outings-but he saw Blumenthal and Genet. Today they looked almost like anyone else. Their autons hovered high, all but lost in the afternoon light. For the first time since taking the Korolev case, Wil didn't feel like an outsider. His own autons were indistinguishable from the others, and even when visible, the fliers seemed no more intimidating than party balloons.

There were two of these affairs each week, one at Town Korolev sponsored by New Mexico, the other run by the Peacers here at North Sh.o.r.e. Just as Rohan said, both groups were doing their best to glad-hand the uncommitted. Wil wondered if ever in history governments had been forced to tread so softly.

Cl.u.s.ters of people sat on blankets all across the lawn. Other folks were lining up at the barbecue pits. Most were dressed in shorts and tops. There was no sure way of telling Peacers from NMs from ungovs, though most of the blue blankets belonged to the Republic. Steve Fraley himself was attending. His staff seemed a little stiff, sitting on lawn chairs, but they were not in uniform. The top Peacer, Kim Tioulang, walked over and shook Steve's hand. From this distance, their conversation looked entirely cordial...

So Yelen figured he should mingle, observe, find out just how unpopular her plans were. Okay. Wil smiled faintly and leaned back on his elbows. It had been a matter of duty to come to this picnic, to do just what the Dasgupta brothers-and simple common sense-had already suggested. Now he was very glad he was here, and the feeling had nothing to do with duty.

In some ways, the North Sh.o.r.e scenery was the most spectacular he'd seen. It was strikingly different from the south side of the Inland Sea. Here, forty-meter cliffs fell straight to narrow beaches. The lawns that spread inland from the cliffs were as friendly as any park in civilization. A few hundred meters further north, the clifftop bench ended in steep hills shrouded by trees and flowers-climbing and climbing, till they stood faintly bluish against the sky. Three waterfalls streamed down from those heights. It was like something out of a fairy tale.

But the view was only the smallest part of Wil's pleasure. He'd seen so much beautiful country the last few weeks-all untouched and pristine as any city-hater could wish. Something in the back of his mind thought it the beauty of a tomb-and he a ghost come to cry for the dead. He brought his gaze back from the heights and looked across the crowds of picnickers. Crowds Crowds, by G.o.d! His smile returned, unthinking. Two hundred, three hundred people, all in one spot. Here he could see that they really did have a chance, that there could be children and a human future, and a use for beauty.

”Hey, lazybones, if you're not going to help with the food, at least give us room to sit down!” It was Rohan, a big grin on his face. He and Dilip were back from the food lines. Two women accompanied them. The four sat down, laughing briefly at Wil's embarra.s.sment. Rohan's friend was a pretty Asian; she nodded pleasantly to him. The other woman was a stunning, dark-haired Anglo; Dilip really knew how to pick 'em. ”Wil, this is Gail Parker. Gail's an EMC-”

”ECM,” the girl corrected.

”Right, an ECM officer on Fraley's staff.”

She wore thigh-length shorts, with a cotton top; he'd never have guessed she was an NM staffer. She stuck out her hand. ”I've always wondered what you were like, Inspector. Ever since I was a little girl, they've been telling me about that big, black, bada.s.s northerner name of W. W. Brierson...” She looked him up and down. ”You don't look so dangerous.” Wil took her hand uncertainly, then noticed the mischievous gleam in her eyes. He'd met a number of New Mexicans since the failed NM invasion of the ungoverned lands. A few didn't even recognize his name. Many were frankly grateful, thinking he had speeded the disgovernance of New Mexico. Others-the die-hard statists of Fraley's stripe-hated Wil out of all proportion to his significance.

Gail Parker's reaction was totally unexpected... and fun. He smiled, and tried to match her tone. ”Well, ma'am, I'm big and black, but I'm really not such a bada.s.s.”

Gail's reply was interrupted by an immensely loud voice echoing across the picnic grounds. ”FRIENDS-” There was a pause. Then the amplified voice continued more quietly. ”Oops, that was a bit much... Friends, may I take a few moments of your time.”

Rohan's friend said quietly, ”So wonderful; a speech.” Her English was heavily accented, but Wil thought he heard sarcasm. He had hoped that with Don Robinson's departure he would be spared any more ”friends” speeches. He looked down the lawn at the speaker. It was the Peacer boss who had been talking to Fraley a few moments earlier. Dilip handed a carton of beer over Wil's shoulder. ”I advise you to drink up, 'friend,' ” he said. ”It may be the only thing that saves you.” Wil nodded solemnly and broke the seal on the carton.

The spindly Peacer continued. ”This is the third week we of the Peace have hosted a party. If you have been to the others, you know we have a message to get across, but we haven't bothered you with speeches. Well, by now we hope we've 'sucked you in' enough so you'll give me a hearing.” He laughed nervously, and there were responding chuckles from the audience, almost out of sympathy. Wil chugged some beer and watched the speaker narrowly. He'd bet anything the guy really was nervous and shy-not used to haranguing the ma.s.ses. But Wil had read up on Tioulang. From 2010 till the fall of the Peace Authority in 2048, Kim Tioulang had been the Director for Asia. He had ruled a third of the planet. So maybe his diffidence reflected nothing more than the fact that if you're a big-enough dictator, you don't have to impress anyone with your manner.

”Incidentally, I warned President Fraley of my intention to propagandize this afternoon, and offered him the 'floor' ill reb.u.t.tal. He graciously declined the offer.”

Fraley stood up and made a megaphone of his hands. ”I'll get you all at our our party.” There was laughter, and Wil felt the corners of his mouth turn down. He party.” There was laughter, and Wil felt the corners of his mouth turn down. He knew knew Fraley was a martinet; it was annoying to see the man behave with any grace. Fraley was a martinet; it was annoying to see the man behave with any grace.

Tioulang turned back to the ma.s.s of picnickers. ”Okay. What am I trying to convince you of? To join the Peace. Failing that, to show solidarity with the interests of the low-techs-as represented by the Peace and the Republic of New Mexico... Why do I ask this? The Peace Authority came and went before many of you were born-and the stories you've heard about it are the usual ones that history's winners lay ors the losers. But I can tell you one thing: The Peace Authority has always stood for the survival of humanity, and the welfare of human beings everywhere.”

The Peacer's voice went soft. ”Ladies and gentlemen, one thing is beyond argument: What we do during the next few years will determine if the human race lives or dies. It depends on us. For the sake of humanity, we can't afford to follow blindly after Korolev or any high-tech-Don't mistake me: I admire Korolev and the others. I am deeply grateful to them. They gave the race a second chance. And the Korolev scheme seems very simple, very generous. By running her factories way over redline, Yelen has promised to keep us at a moderate standard of living for a few decades.” Tioulang gestured at the beer freezers and the barbecue pits, acknowledging their provenance. ”She tells us that this will wreck her equipment centuries before it would otherwise break down. As the years pa.s.s, first one and then another of her systems will fail. And we will be left dependent on whatever resources we have developed. So we have a few decades to make it... or fade into savagery. Korolev and the others have provided us with tools and the databases to create our own means of production. I think we all understand the challenge. I shook some hands this afternoon. I noticed calluses that weren't there earlier. I talked to people that have been working twelve-, fifteen-hour days. Before long, these little meetings will be our only break from the struggle.”

Tioulang paused a moment, and the Asian girl laughed softly. ”Here it comes, everybody.”

”To this point, no sane person can have disagreement. But what the Peace Authority-and our friends of the Republic do resist is Yelen Korolev's method. Hers is the age-old story of the absentee landlord, the queen in the castle and the serfs in the fields. By some scheme that is never revealed, she parcels out data and equipment to individuals-never to organizations. The only way individuals can make sense of such a hopeless jumble is by following Korolev directions ... by developing the habit of serfdom.”

Wil set the beer down. The Peacer had one hundred percent of his attention now. Certainly Yelen was listening to the spiel, but would she understand Tioulang's point? Probably not; it was something new to Wil, and he'd thought he appreciated all the reasons for resenting Korolev. Tioulang's interpretation was a subtle-perhaps even an unconscious-distortion of Marta's plan. Yelen gave tools and production equipment to individuals, according to what hobbies or occupations they had had back in civilization. If those individuals chose to turn the gear over to the Peace or the Republic, that was their business; certainly Yelen had not forbidden such transfers.