Alien Child (22 page)

“Then I guess I won’t, either. I can’t do it if it means leaving you alone. I only thought—”

“Don’t think of it anymore. We’ll get to the city, and if we have to, we’ll get back to the Institute by ourselves.” She held him tightly, willing him to live.

The hills were soon higher. They weaved their way among them, not wanting to tire themselves by climbing; the flatter ground near the shore was too rocky to cross easily.

When the sun was high, they stopped in a hollow to rest. “I’m going up this hill to look around,” Nita said as Sven seated himself. “Maybe I’ll see something.” She hurried up the slope and looked out over the lake, then tensed in surprise. To the south, a slender structure jutted above the surface of the water, and something else stood on the shore ahead. Was it a structure of some kind? It seemed to be a wall or part of a building, and the small, domed shape next to it had to be a craft.

She raced down the hill. “Sven! I think I see part of the city! We’re almost there!”

His face brightened; he leaned against his stick as he got to his feet. “Did you see people?”

She shook her head. “But they could be hiding. Come on.”

They made their way toward the shore; Sven gasped as he caught sight of the pillar in the middle of the lake. She moved ahead of him, finding places among the rocks where he would be able to walk. As they came closer, her hopes began to fade. She had expected to see other signs of the city by now, but there was only a wall and the twisted mass of metal in the lake.

It isn’t here, she thought; the city must lie farther to the south. But as she neared the wall, she was able to glimpse a few dark shapes below the water—pieces of rubble, flat, glassy surfaces, a silvery bubble that might once have been part of a craft.

The city was here, after all. The lake had swallowed it; only the wall remained.

The craft looked like the one that had landed at the Institute. Nita hurried toward the vehicle and held out her hands. “Come out,” she said, although she was already certain no one was inside the craft. She looked up at the opaque silver bubble. “Come out—we mean no harm. We want to be your friends.”

“No one’s here,” Sven said as he came to her side.

“They’re hiding,” she said desperately. “They’re afraid, that’s all.” She touched the side of the craft. Its door slid open to reveal lighted panels to her left and four worn seats. She turned away as the door closed.

“Who is there?”

She started; Sven’s blue eyes widened.

“Who is there?” the faint voice said again. It seemed to be coming from the wall. Nita crept toward it and saw a small, dented screen; its surface was marked by scratches.

“Someone has returned,” the voice said. “I see you now. I did not think it was possible.”

“Where are you?” Nita whispered.

“My nexus lies below the water,” the voice said as Sven limped toward the screen. “My remaining sensors are here and on the craft.” The voice sounded familiar now; it might almost have been the toneless voice of the Institute’s mind.

“You’re a mind,” Sven said to the screen.

“I am an artificial intelligence.”

“Where are your people?” he asked.

“I have no people,” the mind answered. “I have seen no people since the time my city died until now.”

“But we saw a craft,” Nita said. “Who came to the Institute?”

“Do you speak of the Kwalung-Ibarra Institute?” the mind asked.

“Yes.”

“My craft went there not long ago. I had sensed something in the sky, and it seemed to be traveling up from the Institute, but my few remaining sensors are so weak that I could not be certain. I sent the craft. It waited, but saw no signs of human life.”

“We tried to reach it,” Nita said, “but we were too late.”

“So you have traveled here from the Kwalung-Ibarra Institute,” the mind said. “I have searched far. I did not expect to see people again before I fail—the probability seemed so low as to be almost nonexistent.”

“You mean there aren’t any people at all?” Sven’s voice was strained; he gripped his stick tightly. “You haven’t seen anyone except us?”

“That is correct. I searched over all of Earth, when I had more vehicles, and have found no people anywhere.”

Nita stared at the screen numbly. “What happened to you?” she said.

“I was an intelligence that guided transport—I carried this city’s people over their tracks and bridges and tended the craft they used to journey elsewhere. I have lost some of what I knew, so I cannot tell you which weapons struck here, but they were ones that destroyed life while allowing many of the city’s structures to stand. If my circuits were not so damaged, I could easily call up some of my records and tell you exactly which weapons were used. Do you wish me to attempt a search for that information? I might—”

“No,” Nita said quickly. “What happened after that?”

“I was cut off from the voices of other minds. I watched my people die, and waited for a directive of some kind. I cannot tell you how much time passed after that. I searched my circuits, and at last, when I had restored part of myself, I seemed to sense a directive I must have lost earlier. Someone had asked me to search. Perhaps the order was given to me while the city was dying. It might have been a call for me to seek help, or perhaps someone in the city wanted to make certain that the enemy’s cities were dead as well. But I could no longer hear other minds in other places and had to begin the search with my craft.”

A lump rose in Nita’s throat. “What happened then?”

“I sent out all my craft. I looked near the Kwalung-Ibarra Institute first, but found only another place like this city—a structure without life.”

“The mind was there,” Sven said. “Why didn’t it speak to you through the craft’s systems?”

“I cannot say. Perhaps its people ordered it to close itself off from the outside when the war began. Any mind directing weapons might then have assumed that the Institute had already been struck. The mind there would not have communicated with the outside again without an order from a person to do so.”

Nita felt weak. Her people had used even the minds that served them to destroy themselves.

“I searched in many places,” the voice continued. “I sent my craft over this land and others, and learned that none of the people I had served lived. Occasionally I heard the voice of a mind before it failed. In a port for vehicles that traveled into space, I learned from a failing mind that those people who had left Earth to dwell in orbiting facilities were also silent, so it seems Earth’s people carried on their battle there. Those I served were capable of a great deal of destruction.”

Nita covered her face with her hands.

“I searched,” the mind said, “until I had lost all my craft except the one you see here. I heard no more minds. I knew I would find no people. Much of what they built has eroded or decayed, or been covered by earth and water. My sensors fail often now, and frequently I am blind and deaf for long periods. But now that I have seen you, it seems I have completed my search.”

Nita leaned against the wall. She had been foolish to think that her people had survived; hope was only another emotion over which she had no control.

“I am ready to serve you,” the mind said; its voice seemed weaker. “Do you have instructions for me? I can show you a few images of my search, if you like.”

“No.” Nita slumped to the ground. Sven sat down next to her, his back against the wall.

“We were fools to think we’d find anyone,” he said. “I hate myself for being one of their kind.”

Nita looked up at the screen. “Does the craft here still work?” she asked. “Can it take us back to the Institute?”

“It is in need of repair,” the mind responded, “but it is capable of traveling that short a distance. I do not think it could take you much farther. You need only enter it and tell it your destination.”

“Well, that’s something,” Sven said. “We made it here, and we have a way to get back, and we found out that Llare and Llipel didn’t lie when they told us no one was left.”

She thought of the embryos in the cold room. To bring others to life might only unleash their people’s evil on the world once more. Perhaps she and Sven would be the last of their kind, after all.

“What can we do now?” she asked.

“Go home. It doesn’t really matter. The Institute has lots of things that’ll help us forget. We did what we could—there isn’t much left to do.”

She remembered his injury; she should tend to his ankle now. “Your foot,” she said. “I should take a look at it.” She leaned over and tugged gently at his boot; he winced. She did not want to return to the Institute yet, where she would feel that she was entering the place that would become their tomb.

Sven’s ankle was swollen and discolored, but she found no broken bones. She bathed the injury with cold water from the lake, then bound it lightly with a piece of cloth torn from her pack. Sven endured her care in silence. Although they no longer needed to save their food, he refused the packet she offered him.

She put her pack inside the craft and then walked back to him. He sat facing north, with his foot on top of his pack.

“How does your ankle feel?” she asked.

“Pretty bad.” He was trying to smile. She seated herself next to him and leaned back against the wall. The sun was dropping in the west; it would soon be evening.

“We ought to go back,” she said. “There’s no point in spending another night out here.”

“You don’t really want to go back, do you?”

She shook her head.

“I know. It’ll be like admitting everything’s over, that there’s nothing left for us to do. But we got this far, and we did learn something about the outside. We could make other journeys, couldn’t we? It’d be better than just sitting around, waiting for—”

His voice trailed off. He lifted his head, and then she saw his eyes widen. “Nita.” He looked up at the sky as he grabbed her hand.

She raised her head. Beyond the hills, high in the northern sky, three tiny ships were dropping below the clouds. They were barely visible, but they seemed round, like Llipel’s ship. They were moving north; soon she could not see them at all.

“They’ve come back,” she whispered.

“Why?” Sven asked. “But we can guess, can’t we? They know about our kind. I don’t think they’ll show any mercy to people who could destroy a world.”

“We don’t know if that’s why they came back,” she said.

“What can we do? Once they talk to the mind, they’ll know where we’ve gone. With those ships, they could follow us easily enough.” He looked around frantically. “The only chance we have is to get as far away in that craft as we can.”

“But the mind said that it probably can’t go very far.”

“It might still get us to a place where we could hide,” he said.

“And then what? How do we live? I don’t think we’d last very long.”

“They might think we’re dead already,” he said. “They’ll find out what happened to the gardener. They might believe we died on the plain. That could give us some time.”

Perhaps they wanted Earth for their kind; more of their people might come here. Llipel had promised that no harm would come to them, but maybe that promise was already forgotten, as Llipel’s memories of her own past had been. Their guardians might not even be here now; they might have preferred to let others carry out any judgment.

“No,” Nita said at last. “We can’t hide. We didn’t know what we’d find out here, but we got through it. At least we can show them we’re not afraid anymore. We have to go back.”

He frowned. “They won’t be expecting us to return in a craft. We still have our weapons. We could try to fight for ourselves, even if we don’t have much of a chance.”

“But we don’t know for certain why they returned. Until we do, shouldn’t we go to them peacefully? Otherwise, we’ll just be proving that all their worst suspicions about our people are true.”

“We know what our people were.”

“And I won’t be like them,” she said firmly. “I’ll resist it as long as I can. Let’s face them there instead of waiting for them to find us.”

She helped him to his feet and led him toward the craft.

17

The craft glided over the trees, then dropped slowly toward the ground as it neared the Institute. Three alien ships stood in front of the steps that led into the lobby. The craft landed next to them; Nita opened the door, climbed out of the vehicle, and held out her arm to Sven.

“You’re sure you don’t want to fight,” Sven said.

“I’m sure.” She put her arms around his waist for a moment, then released him. He leaned on his stick as they walked toward the tower.

They climbed the steps. Sven was no longer favoring his ankle; perhaps he had forgotten his pain. The door in front of them opened; they entered the lobby.

Six creatures were sitting on the floor, surrounded by small containers of their strange foods. Nita stiffened; her mouth was dry, and her hands felt cold. The six quickly rose to their feet in the same graceful, boneless way her guardian had moved. Two had dark-brown fur, three others were tawny, and one was nearly white; Llipel and Llare were not among them. She nearly despaired, then noticed that their hands were empty, their claws retracted. They had no weapons.