The Wind From a Burning Woman: Six Stories of Science Fiction (22 page)

Through the brood mind Aryz could share the memories of a hundred thousand past generations, yet the brood mind itself was younger than its branch of individuals. For a time in their youth, in their liquid-dwelling larval form, the branch inds carried their own sacs of data, each a fragment of the total necessary for complete memory. The branch inds swam through ammonia seas and wafted through thick warm gaseous zones, protoplasmic blobs three to four meters in diameterdeveloping their personalities under the weight of the pastand not even a complete past. No wonder they were inflexible, Aryz thought. Most branch inds were aware enough to see thatespecially when they were allowed to compare histories with the Population I species, as he was doingbut there was nothing to be done. They were content the way they were. To change would be unspeakably repugnant. Extinction was preferable... almost.

But now they were pressed hard. The brood mind had begun a number of experiments. Aryzs team had been selected from the seedships contingent to oversee the experiments, and Aryz had been chosen as the chief investigator. Two orbits past, they had captured six human embryos in a breeding device, as well as a highly coveted memory storage center. Most Senexi engagements had been with humans for the past three or four generations. Just as the Senexi dominated Population II species, humans were ascendant among their kind.

Experiments with the human embryos had already been conducted. Some had been allowed to develop normally; others had been tampered with, for reasons Aryz was not aware of. The tamperings had not been very successful.

The newer experiments, Aryz suspected, were going to take a different direction, and the seedships actions now focused on him; he believed he would be given complete authority over the human shapes. Most branch inds would have dissipated under such a burden, but not Aryz. He found the human shapes rather interesting, in their own horrible way. They might, after all, be the key to Senexi survival.

* * * *

The moans were toughening her elf state. She lay in pain for a wake, not daring to close her eyes; her mind was changing and she feared sleep would be the end of her. Her nightmares were not easily separated from life; some, in fact, were sharper.

Too often in sleep she found herself in a Senexi trap, struggling uselessly, being pulled in deeper, her hatred wasted against such power

When she came out of the rigor, Prufrax was given leave by the subordinate tellman. She took to the Mellangees greenroads, walking stiffly in the shallow gravity. Her hands itched. Her mind seemed almost empty after the turmoil of the past few wakes. She had never felt so calm and clear. She hated the Senexi double now; once for their innate evil, twice for what they had made her overs put her through to be able to fight them. Logic did not matter. She was calm, assured. She was growing more mature wake by wake. Fight-budding, the tellman called it, hate coming out like blooms, synthesizing the sunlight of his teaching into pure fight.

The greenroads rose temporarily beyond the labyrinth shields and armor of the ship. Simple transparent plastic and steel geodesic surfaces formed a lacework over the gardens, admitting radiation necessary to the vegetation growing along the paths. No machines scooted one forth and inboard here. It was necessary to walk. Walking was luxury and privilege.

Prufrax looked down on the greens to each side of the paths without much comprehension. They were beautiful. Yes, one should say that, think that, but what did it mean? Pleasing? She wasnt sure what being pleased meant, outside of thinking Zap. She sniffed a flower that, the signs explained, bloomed only in the light of young stars not yet fusing. They were near such a star now, and the greenroads were shiny black and electric green with the blossoms. Lamps had been set out for other plants unsuited to such darkened conditions. Some technic allowed suns to appear in selected plastic panels when viewed from certain angles. Clever, the technicals.

She much preferred the looks of a technical to a tellman, but she was common in that. Technicals required brainflex, tellmen cargo capacity. Technicals were strong and ran strong machines, like in the adventure fibs, where technicals were often the protags. She wished a technical were on the greenroads with her. The moans had the effect of making her receptivewhat she saw, looking in mirrors, was a certain shine in her eyesbut there was no chance of a breeding liaison. She was quite unreproductive in this moment of elf state. Other kinds of meetings were not unusual.

She looked up and saw a figure at least a hundred meters away, sitting on an allowed patch near the path. She walked casually, as gracefully as possible with the stiffness. Not a technical, she saw soon, but she was not disappointed. Too calm.

Over, he said as she approached.

Under, she replied. But not by muchhe was probably six or seven ship years old and not easily classifiable.

Such a fine elfstate, he commented. His hair was black. He was shorter than she, but something in his build reminded her of the glovers. She accepted his compliment with a nod and pointed to a spot near him. He motioned for her to sit, and she did so with a whuff, massaging her knees.

Moans? he asked.

Bad stretch, she said.

Youre a glover. He was looking at the fading scars on her hands.

Cant tell what you are, she said.

Noncombat, he said. Tuner of the mandates.

She knew very little about the mandates, except that law decreed every ship carry one, and few of the crew were ever allowed to peep. Noncombat, hm? she mused. She didnt despise him for that; one never felt strong negatives for a crew member. She didnt feel much of anything. Too calm.

Been working on ours this wake, he said. Too hard, I guess. Told to walk. Overzealousness in work was considered an erotic trait aboard the Mellangee. Still, she didnt feel too receptive toward him.

Glovers walk after a rough growing, she said.

He nodded. My names Clevo.

Prufrax.

Combat soon?

Hoping. Waiting forever.

I know. Just been allowed access to the mandate for a half-dozen wakes. All new to me. Very happy.

Can you talk about it? she asked. Information about the ship not accessible in certain rates was excellent barter.

Not sure, he said, frowning. Ive been told caution.

Well, Im listening.

He could come from glover stock, she thought, but probably not from technical. He wasnt very muscular, but he wasnt as tall as a glover, or as thin, either.

If youll tell me about gloves.

With a smile she held up her hands and wriggled the short, stumpy fingers. Sure.

* * * *

The brood mind floated weightless in its tank, held in place by buffered carbon rods. Metal was at a premium aboard the Senexi ships, more out of tradition than actual material limitations. From what Aryz could tell, the Senexi used metals sparingly for the same reasonand he strained to recall the small dribbles of information about the human past he had extracted from the memory storefor the same reason that the Romans of old Earth regarded farming as the only truly noble occupation

Farming being the raising of plants for food and raw materials. Plants were analogous to the freeth Senexi ate in their larval youth, but the freeth were not green and sedentary.

There was always a certain fascination in stretching his mind to encompass human concepts. He had had so little time to delve deeplyand that was good, of course, for he had been set to answer specific questions, not mire himself in the whole range of human filth.

He floated before the brood mind, all these thoughts coursing through his tissues. He had no central nervous system, no truly differentiated organs except those that dealt with the outside worldlimbs, eyes, permea. The brood mind, however, was all central nervous system, a thinly buffered sac of viscous fluids about ten meters wide.

Have you investigated the human memory device yet? the brood mind asked.

I have.

Is communication with the human shapes possible for us?

We have already created interfaces for dealing with their machines. Yes, it seems likely we can communicate.

Does it occur to you that in our long war with humans, we have made no attempt to communicate before?

This was a complicated question. It called for several qualities that Aryz, as a branch ind, wasnt supposed to have. Inquisitiveness, for one. Branch inds did not ask questions. They exhibited initiative only as offshoots of the brood mind.

He found, much to his dismay, that the question had occurred to him. We have never captured a human memory store before, he said, by way of incomplete answer. We could not have communicated without such an extensive source of information.

Yet, as you say, even in the past we have been able to use human machines.

The problem is vastly more complex.

The brood mind paused. Do you think the teams have been prohibited from communicating with humans?

Aryz felt the closest thing to anguish possible for a branch ind. Was he being considered unworthy? Accused of conduct inappropriate to a branch ind? His loyalty to the brood mind was unshakable. Yes.

And what might our reasons be?

Avoidance of pollution.

Correct. We can no more communicate with them and remain untainted than we can walk on their worlds, breathe their atmosphere. Again, silence. Aryz lapsed into a mode of inactivity. When the brood mind readdressed him, he was instantly aware.

Do you know how you are different? it asked.

I am not... Again, hesitation. Lying to the brood mind was impossible for him. What snared him was semantics, a complication in the radiated signals between them. He had not been aware that he was different; the brood minds questions suggested he might be. But he could not possibly face up to the fact and analyze it all in one short time. He signaled his distress.

You are useful to the team, the brood mind said. Aryz calmed instantly. His thoughts became sluggish, receptive. There was a possibility of redemption. But how was he different? You are to attempt communication with the shapes yourself. You will not engage in any discourse with your fellows while you are so involved. He was banned. And after completion of this mission and transfer of certain facts to me, you will dissipate.

Aryz struggled with the complexity of the orders. How am I different, worthy of such a commission?

The surface of the brood mind was as still as an undisturbed pool. The indistinct black smudges that marked its radiative organs circulated slowly within the interior, then returned, one above the other, to focus on him. You will grow a new branch ind. It will not have your flaws, but, then again, it will not be useful to me should such a situation come a second time. Your dissipation will be a relief, but it will be regretted.

How am I different?

I think you know already, the brood mind said. When the time comes, you will feed the new branch ind all your memories but those of human contact. If you do not survive to that stage of its growth, you will pick your fellow who will perform that function for you.

A small pinkish spot appeared on the back of Aryzs globe. He floated forward and placed his largest permeum against the brood minds cool surface. The key and command were passed, and his body became capable of reproduction. Then the signal of dismissal was given. He left the chamber.

Flowing through the thin stream of liquid ammonia lining the corridor, he felt ambiguously stimulated. His was a position of privilege and anathema. He had been blessedand condemned. Had any other branch ind experienced such a thing?

Then he knew the brood mind was correct. He was different from his fellows. None of them would have asked such questions. None of them could have survived the suggestion of communicating with human shapes. If this task hadnt been given to him, he would have had to dissipate away.

The pink spot grew larger, then began to make greyish flakes. It broke through the skin, and casually, almost without thinking, Aryz scraped it off against a bulkhead. It clung, made a radio-frequency emanation something like a sigh, and began absorbing nutrients from the ammonia.

Aryz went to inspect the shapes.

* * * *

She was intrigued by Clevo, but the kind of interest she felt was new to her. She was not particularly receptive. Rather, she felt a mental gnawing as if she were hungry or had been injected with some kind of brain moans. What Clevo told her about the mandates opened up a topic she had never considered before. How did all things come to beand how did she figure in them?

The mandates were quite small, Clevo explained, each little more than a cubic meter in volume. Within them was the entire history and culture of the human species, as accurate as possible, culled from all existing sources. The mandate in each ship was updated whenever the ship returned to a contact station. It was not likely the Mellangee would return to a contact station during their lifetimes, with the crew leading such short lives on the average.

Clevo had been assigned small taskschecking data and adding ship recordsthat had allowed him to sample bits of the mandate. Its mandated that we have records, he explained, and what we have, you see, is man-data. He smiled. Thats a joke, he said. Sort of.

Prufrax nodded solemnly. So where do we come from?

Earth, of course, Clevo said. Everyone knows that.

I mean, where do we come fromyou and I, the crew.

Breeding division. Why ask? You know.

Yes. She frowned, concentrating. I mean, we dont come from the same place as the Senexi. The same way.

No, thats foolishness.

She saw that it was foolishnessthe Senexi were different all around. What was she struggling to ask? Is their fib like our own?

Fib? Historys not a fib. Not most of it, anyway. Fibs are for unreal. History is overfib.

She knew, in a vague way, that fibs were unreal. She didnt like to have their comfort demeaned, though. Fibs are fun, she said. They teach Zap.

I suppose, Clevo said dubiously. Being noncombat, I dont see Zap fibs.

Fibs without Zap were almost unthinkable to her. Such dull, she said.