The Children Star (9 page)

T
he return journey was easier, yet infinitely harder, for he could only wonder how Gaea fared after her last shrieking farewell. At home, Mother Artemis assured him that he had done the right thing. “I knew Sarai would help,” said Mother Artemis, “once she saw the dear little girl in front of her. When the Spirit offers, do not question.”

He still felt sick to think of it.

Haemum, now, was brimming with excitement at her new school. “ ‘There are all kinds of worlds to see!' ” she exclaimed. She and Rod stopped in the garden, pulling out double-root weeds that clung like steel wire. “You can dive right into the ocean, or climb to the top of a volcano on Bronze Sky—the ground shakes when it erupts. You can learn how all the planets were made, how the rock flows under and over inside them. Some of them even have
‘weather' that changes every day—did you know it can rain in the daytime? And then you can see a
rainbow
stretch across the sky!”

“Imagine—a rainbow.” Rod looked up from the garden with a smile. There was nothing like the magic of a young person's first taste of the world.

“You can meet Fold Friends, too.” Haemum had brushed her curls neatly, and her voice had a new lilt in it. “Children from all different cultures. Even Elysian children in their fabulous
shon
. But of course, the most noble culture of all is that of our own L'liite people.” That was a line from her New Reyo teachers. “Our little ones should have more lessons, too, you know. Children belong in school eight hours a day.”

“We'll see about that.” For the little ones, actually, Rod thought Mother Artemis's lessons more effective than the school days he recalled. “What time in the morning are you due in class?”

“Our homeroom starts at seven.”

“Let's head out at dawn, then, to bag some four-eyes before school. Our meat supply is getting low.”

In the morning, as the sun peeked out between Mount Helicon and Mount Anaeon, Rod and Haemum rode south through the brokenhearts to hunt four-eyes. Bullets were of little use against zoöids; a four-eyes shot in one stomach would simply roll off and make do with three. Megazoöids did the same, as early explorers had learned the hard way. Lasers worked better, for a zoöid sliced clean through was stopped in its tracks. But lasers could start a fire, inducing a thunderstorm to put it out. How the planet managed this, no one knew.

What worked best was poison. Because Prokaryan biochemistry was so alien, a poison dart that killed four-eyes
had no effect on humans consuming the meat. So Rod and Haemum rode up slowly toward the herd, singling out stragglers. Silently he mouthed a prayer to the spirits of the creatures whose bodies would give them food.

The four-eyes did not seem to recognize humans as a threat, either by sight or by smell, and appeared too stupid to learn. Not high on the list of candidates for “masters,” Rod thought as he aimed his dart gun.

The zoöid rolled off immediately, then zigzagged twice. Within a minute, it wobbled and fell. Rod and Haemum picked off half a dozen thus, then dragged the bodies some distance away to prevent the herd from running them over. By then the stomachs of the dead zoöids had emptied out, a last reflex. The air filled with a smell worse than skunk. It did make them easier to clean later, Rod thought as he hoisted the carcasses onto the backs of the llamas.

The rest of the morning Rod spent at the gravel pit with Pima and Pomu, training them to sort sapphires. When they returned, Diorite was at the door with Mother Artemis. He made the starsign for Rod. “Good to see you, Brother. As I told the Reverend Mother, I've brought a helping hand for your harvest.”

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 Lethe
shon
. 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 always 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.