Anvil of Stars (37 page)

When he awoke, the schoolroom was quiet but for a few whispered conversations. Hakim slept nearby; Giacomo and Jennifer lay curled together an arm's reach in front of Martin. Joe Flatworm slept in a lotus, anchored to a ladder field. The moms and snake mothers floated inactive.

The Brothers had all disintegrated. Cords hung from ladder fields like socks on a neon clothes net.

Cham was awake. Martin asked him, "Is that how they sleep?"

"Beats me," Cham said.

"Where's Hans?"

"Other side of the schoolroom," Cham said. "Asleep with Rosa holding his head."

Martin turned to the star sphere and saw for the first time their new ship, the merger largely completed. He judged it to be perhaps as big as the original Dawn Treader, with three home-balls again; but this time the aft homeball was larger than the others. There were no obvious tanks of reserve fuel; Martin assumed the fuel must now be stored in the aft homeball. That might reflect a design improvement; the more he saw, the more he was convinced that the Brothers' Ship of the Law was a later model, with major differences in equipment, tactics, perhaps even general strategy.

"I wonder if they dream?" Cham asked.

"They're all asleep?" Martin stretched out, peering between the fields and sleeping bodies. He could see no intact braids, only cords.

"Wonder if they ever get confused and end up with parts of each other? It's scary, how much we're going to have to learn."

Deceleration began. Up and down returned to the Ship of the Law; humans and Brothers explored the new order of things. The quarters were divided into human and Brother sectors in the first two homeballs. A buffer of empty quarters and shared hallways gave cords spaces in which to hide and conduct their private, instinctive affairs. Provisions were made for human capture of straying cords; boxes mounted in well-traveled halls were filled with specially scented bags (tea and cabbage odors) with which to sedate and carry any cords they might find in human quarters.

Some practise sessions were arranged; Martin learned where to pick up a cord, before and after it had been covered with a scented bag. The best place to hold a cord was along the smooth, leathery body forward of the claw legs and behind the feelers. The cord mouth parts opened ventrally just to the rear of the feelers. The only danger—as yet untested—was that a cord, away from its fellows, might defend itself if the pick-up and bagging ritual was not properly observed. It might then nip or chew on a human, and certain alkaloids in its saliva might cause a toxic reaction, perhaps no more severe than a rash, perhaps worse, so why take chances?

What the humans learned soon enough was that the Brothers' diet was simple. They ate a cultivated broth of small green and purple organisms, resembling aquatic worms, neither plants nor animals. These organisms—Stonemaker suggested they might be called noodles—grew under bright lights; they could move freely within their liquid-filled containers, but derived most of their nutrients from simple chemicals. At one stage in their growth, they ate each other, and the remains of their feasts contributed substantially to the broth.

Brothers always ate disassembled, the cords gathering around the vats like snakes around bowls of milk. While the cords dined, two or more braids watched over the diners.

The snake mothers had nothing to do with preparing the broth. Growing food was a particularly important ritual for the Brothers, and it was apparently an honor to be placed in charge of the broth vats.

This much the human crew was allowed to observe. Other aspects of Brotherly life were more circumspect. Because cords could die as individuals—it was normal, like shedding skin—reproduction continued after a fashion. Breeding cords were sequestered and their activities were hidden from the humans.

Three braids seemed to act as intellectual reserves for the entire group. These braids appeared slow, not particularly personable; they spoke no English, communicated not at all with humans, but occasionally disassembled, and some of their parts would be used for a time by other braids. Erin Eire called them Wisdom, Honor, and Charity; the names stuck, at least among the humans.

Stonemaker became familiar to all the humans; Shipmaker and Eye on Sky also mixed freely. Others came forward more gradually to interact with the humans. Within two days, twenty-three Brothers mingled regularly. Their English improved rapidly.

Within a tenday of the merger, rudimentary jokes could be exchanged. Brother humor was simple enough: sickly-sweet flower-smells marked a kind of laughter, brought on by simple stories whose punchline always involved involuntary disassembly. The Brothers particularly enjoyed stories or mimicry of humans passing gas or fainting.

With Hans' approval, Paola Birdsong appointed herself a special student of Brotherly language and behavior.

Giacomo and Jennifer volunteered to help coordinate human and Brother libraries, working with Eye on Sky and Shipmaker. Hans suggested they first translate and integrate what the libraries had to say about galactic history and battle strategy and tactics. Jennifer was disappointed by these practical priorities; she desperately wanted to explore Brother mathematics.

Martin observed, in his library visits, that the ship's mind was itself translating and correlating information.

Rosa Sequoia stayed in the background, watching everything intently, weighing and measuring the new situation.

The remnants of Martin's funk had passed like fog. For hours at a time he did not think of Theresa or William.

Hakim, Harpal, and Luis Estevez Saguaro joined forces with a Brother named Silken Parts, a large (five meters long) and dapper-looking braid whose cords were, indeed, somewhat silkier in texture than those of other Brothers. Together, they organized a combined search team in the nose.

Giacomo and Jennifer acted as search team advisors, but were now absorbed in their library work and theoretical activities.

Remotes were sent out and Leviathan came under close scrutiny.

After four days immersed in studying Leviathan, Hakim asked to speak with Martin, alone and in Martin's quarters.

They squatted beside each other and sipped strong sweet hot tea, Hakim's favorite.

Hakim was agitated. "I will speak of this with Hans soon," Hakim began, eyes downturned. "This is awkward, I know, but I do not know how he will react. I myself do not know how to react. I hope you can advise me."

"About what?" Martin asked.

"Silken Parts has gone to the Brothers now, and I understand they face similar difficulties. The information from the remotes is disturbing."

"How?" Martin asked.

"I am most embarrassed."

"Christ, Hakim—"

Hakim glanced at him sharply, disliking religious blasphemies of any sort.

"I'm sorry. Tell me."

"Our early information about Leviathan seems to have been completely in error. I don't know how it could have happened, but we have major discrepancies. Our new findings are different."

"How different?"

"Leviathan has fifteen planets, not ten, or even twelve."

"Fifteen?"

Hakim winced and shook his head. "The star itself has much the same characteristics—some not unexpected refinements in spectral measurements. Almost everything else seems to have changed."

"How wrong could we have been?"

"Not this wrong," Hakim said. "I am upset to think the ship's instruments could have misled us; even more upset to think we could have misinterpreted the facts so."

"Fifteen planets sounds awfully crowded."

"It is. I have referred the momerath to Jennifer and Giacomo. The orbital patterns as we see them are astonishing. We believe the system must be artificial, and artificially maintained—which would require great expenditures of energy."

"What else?"

"The system is rich with raw materials. Two of the planets, not four, are large gas giants, and they are not depleted. The fourth planet is a true enigma—about one hundred thousand kilometers in diameter, with a distinct and apparently solid surface, not a gas giant… but with a density comparable to the gas giants'."

"Hakim, I know you've checked this a dozen times—"

"We've made measurements more often than I can count, separately and together. The current information seems correct, Martin. I am mortified to possibly have been so in error before. "

"The Red Tree Runners were inside the system. They saw ten planets. Their charts didn't match with our views from a distance… and they certainly don't conform now…"

"We could be in different universes, the differences are so great."

"Right…" Martin screwed up his face in thought. "Hakim—"

"We were not wrong!" Hakim shouted, pounding the mat. He glanced at Martin expectantly.

"I don't think you were, either. The Brothers took Leviathan's measure. Have you compared results?"

"They made measurements before our first efforts."

"And they saw…?"

"From what Paola and Jennifer have translated, and what Stonemaker tells us—so difficult to interpret! They do not use numbers as we do—they saw a system of we think ten planets, with four gas giants."

"Then they got a picture similar to what the Red Tree Runners saw. The Brothers didn't pick up signs of civilization?"

Hakim shook his head. "Nor did they notice any reaction to Wormwood's destruction. From what we see even now, there is no sign of armoring, or any other preparation."

Martin felt at once a kind of dread and excitement, a chill of surprise and something he could hardly quantify. This is no simple chase now, no sitting duck. We're close!

"Leviathan is camouflaged," Martin said.

"I was hoping you would agree!" Hakim cried out, clapping Martin on the shoulder.

Martin could have laughed at Hakim's relief and joy, but he did not.

"We were not measuring improperly! The death ship saw what it saw! The Brothers did not measure improperly!"

"But how do you mask an entire star system?"

"Only planets," Hakim said.

"Are they ghost planets?"

"Perhaps," Hakim said, raising a finger. "One of these versions may be correct, but which?"

"The deception is not infinitely varied… and it changes across fairly short intervals, on the order of years."

"Yes!" Hakim said, face flushed with excitement. "The bastard Killers fool nobody!"

Martin touched finger to nose. "It's obvious some massive planetary engineering has been done… You'd think the closer an observer was, the more they'd want the system to look empty,"

"With your support, I will take this to Hans," Hakim said, rising from the cushion. "He cannot become angry if you back us."

Martin stood. "Are you afraid of him?" he asked.

Hakim looked away, embarrassed. "I do not trust him as much as I trust you. Do you approve of him, Martin?"

"It isn't my job to criticize the Pan."

"I have felt badly about some of his actions, the way we have become. The games, with sexual partners as rewards. Martin, I have kept very quiet until now, but that was wrong."

"Well, it's stopped. We start training with the Brothers soon."

"You are not worried about what might happen?"

"Of course I'm worried."

"But not worried about Hans."

"Hakim, I know how difficult it is to be Pan. When I was Pan, people died. Hans was elected. That's that."

Hakim regarded him sadly, then arranged his overalls with smoothing gestures of palms down chest and legs. "I will go to Hans now. I hope he will be as understanding as you."

"He's no dummy," Martin said.

"He will not chastise us," Hakim said. "He will see, as well, that these are not our errors."

"I'm sure he will," Martin said. When Hakim had left, Martin rubbed his eyes vigorously with his knuckles, then looked up and around his quarters, as if seeing them for the first time; ribbons of light, bare brown and silver-gray surfaces, the single cushion large enough for two; why had he asked for it to be large enough for two?

He was not due anywhere for an hour. There would be a meeting of past Pans with Hans and Rex and two of Stonemaker's planners; they would begin to design drills, coordinate strategies.

Brothers and humans could and would work together.

Martin reached for his wand and idly tuned to the translated

territories of the Brother libraries. Vast regions were still incomprehensible. The human wands did not supply scent; he could not interpret half of what might be stored. Even the best translations would never be ideal. As Hakim had discovered, even so simple a thing as numbers was subject to ambiguity. He wondered how the Brothers counted…

Perhaps counting was not important to them.

Perhaps they were better equipped to deal with Leviathan's changing nature than humans.

He searched for Theodore's texts in his wand, found them still intact after the disasters and merger. Randomly he leafed through the projected pages, hoping for some small insight or guidance.

Never underestimate the power of circumstance to grind your very bones, Theodore had written in the first three months of their journey. Never underestimate the perverse power of everything to go wrong, to tend toward trouble. Always the problems seem to come from within; I judge myself to be at fault, for not anticipating the unforeseeable, not knowing the way a chaotic function will collapse.

And elsewhere,

What I have lost does not make me greater, but it makes me deeper, like a hole. Take more away and I will come through to the other side, like a gaping wound. But then I will be the wound and the body will have sloughed away. Is it possible to lose more of what is not there?

Very adolescent, with the insight of resilient youth and none of the reserved silence of the experienced adult. If he had written these things, Martin might have felt a little embarrassed. But then he had always felt that way about Theodore's writings: strongly attracted to them, even admiring, but always discomfited by them. They explored territories, emotions, and ideas Martin was not comfortable with.

Theodore had been so open. It was what killed him.