Eye of the Comet (16 page)

  — Even the Minds can’t help us when our bodies fail — she replied. So far the village had kept its advantage only because its enemies could not accept the existence of the Mindcores and therefore were not drawing on the power available to them. But the villagers could not hold out for much longer.

She reached out, sensing the hatred of the encampment; their shield had grown weak enough to allow her to touch their minds. — Listen to me — she called out to Talah. — We must stop this battle. Look inside me and see what I am —

  — Don’t! — Marellon cried as Reiho tried to shield her.

  — I must speak to them. Maybe then they’ll understand —

  — Shield yourself — Marellon answered.

Talah lifted her spear, pointing it at Lydee. — Aim your minds at that creature — she ordered. — It must have taught them one of its evil arts to make them so strong. Destroy that monster and its fellow, and we’ll have our victory —

Lydee threw up her wall, making it so tight that she could no longer hear any thoughts, then entwined her mental tendrils with Reiho’s. A vise gripped her head; her skull would be crushed. Blood trickled from her nose. The pain disappeared as villagers lent her their strength, but her link in their chain was failing.

“Help me,” she whispered. The Net was slipping away. Her arms flailed about as the vise pressed her again. The village’s Merging Selves were weakening; the Net shook as several more dropped away. Reiho held his head, his face contorted with pain.

The vise broke. Talah collapsed; other bodies lay around her. A younger woman picked up the spear. “Enough!” she screamed at the top other voice.

Lydee opened her mind cautiously.

  — Enough — the woman said again. — Their minds resist, but there are other ways to die — She pointed toward the multitudes in the village’s fields. — We must now turn to the ways of old Earth. Gather your knives and spears and arrows and go among the evildoers, slaying them with your weapons. They cannot resist all of us, and however many of us fall in the fight, there will be others to take their place. Kill them as you would your cattle and sheep —

  — We cannot — several minds replied.

Lydee turned. A group stood on the other side of a ditch, several paces from the villagers on the bank.

  — We have fought enough — the group continued. — We strike at them and still they do not reach out to harm us. Is that the way of evildoers? —

  — Heed my words — the woman with the spear said.

  — Heed ours — A small, dark woman in hides stepped out from the group near the ditch. — They spoke of Minds in machines that can give us power we’ve never used —

  — You should not have heard that. You young ones were to shield yourselves —

  — I’ll hear what I please. They spoke of those Minds. Haven’t they shown it is true? If it were not, wouldn’t we have been able to destroy them by now? —

  — It is false — the older woman replied.

  — You ask us to go among them. Many of us will die as well. I will not slaughter fellow human beings —

  — They are not that. They have wandered from truth and are now lower than the separate selves we bury at birth —

  — I have begun to doubt — the small woman said. — I have looked at those creatures there with my eyes, not with my mind, and I can see now that they wear a human shape — She gestured at Reiho and Lydee. — I do not know where they come from, but they can touch our thoughts. It is the duty of all minds to draw closer, and yet we turn from these people and seek their deaths. I think it is we who have been lost to evil.

You say that we must lay hands on them in violence. I can’t do that —

  — Nor can I — someone else thought.

  — Nor I —

  — I cannot —

  — You would attack with your minds — the older woman across the river cried, — yet you shrink from using your hands. What nonsense is that? —

  — I won’t strike at them in either way again — the small woman answered. Groups of invaders were retreating, scurrying toward their tents; others waved their spears and knives in frustration.

  — Fools — the Merging Selves on the other side of the river screamed in unison. — Then you, too, will die —

The young woman dropped to the ground, shielding her mind as others fell around her. The ground began to shake as the encampment fought; a crack appeared near the ditch. The river overran its banks, lapping at the feet of the Merging Selves on the rise. Tents tilted, then collapsed, looking like alighting birds with outstretched wings.

“They’re fighting among themselves,” Lydee said aloud. Luret covered her eyes. “We have to stop them.”

“How?” Wiland asked, heedless of the shallow water now covering his feet. “They’ll use their strength against one another, and perhaps they’ll have little left to deal with us.”

Luret looked up; her face was immobile. Across the field, men and women were shielding their children with their bodies as others came at them with knives. Luret darted away, auburn curls bobbing as she ran toward the field. Wiland hesitated, then hurried after her.

Lydee felt sick. A bitter taste filled her mouth; she leaned over, about to retch.

  — Stop — Daiya called to those across the river. — You mustn’t do this — Villagers were already running across the fields, lending their strength to those trying to defend themselves. Nenla threw herself across one child; a man about to stab suddenly staggered back. Leito was leading a group of women toward the meadow.

Lydee stumbled toward the ditch. A man held a spear over the small, dark woman, freezing as the woman restrained him with her mind. Lydee leaped to her side, knocking the man aside with one arm, then parried a blow from a muscular young woman. Where were the Minds? They could stop this slaughter, yet They were silent.

  — Help us — Daiya was demanding. — Help us now. Many will die if you don’t — Other villagers joined the cry. — Help us. Speak to them —

  — Help us — several invaders joined in.

The air began to sparkle, glistening with specks of light. The small woman climbed to her feet, clinging to Lydee as Reiho leaped over the ditch to their side. The village was surrounded by tiny, twinkling stars. A moan went up from those on the other side of the river.

/You have forgotten Us/ The Minds were speaking; Lydee heard Their forceful voices inside her head. /You built Us, and then forgot Us. We were to be your servants, and you abandoned Us. Some of you fled from this planet while the others dreamed. You have lived in a dream for eons, using only the smallest part of what We could provide, and now We are withering away. If We die, your powers will die, too/

Talah had been revived; she was on her knees, leaning against her spear as her companions cowered around her. She raised her head. — You are an illusion — she thought. — I do not hear you. I reject you —

/You cannot reject Us. Will you turn from the truth? Hear Our words. We have waited for you to remember Us, but you do not. We can wait no longer/

Ghostly figures were taking shape around the village, becoming the transparent shapes of men, women, and children. A multitude formed in the fields; others appeared on the other side of the river. Talah cried out as the specters moved through the encampment, each embracing a person with ghostly arms. The image of a young man had risen before Talah; she warded him off before falling to the ground.

/Look at the skydwellers/ the voices continued. /Know that they also have minds like yours, and can give up their solitude/

“It’s true,” the small woman said aloud as she let go of Lydee. “What will become of us now?”

A silvery ghost was forming in front of Reiho; it bore the blurred face of a boy. Reiho sighed as its arms touched him. Lydee caught her mentor as he fell; she could not sense his mind and knew that he had fainted. The ghost lifted a hand before flickering out.

A bright light shone above the village, lighting the huts and turning their roofs gold. /We shall not force Our will upon you/ the Minds whispered. /You must decide for yourselves. We can only serve, and hope for life/

The light dimmed as the ghostly people rose into the air, soaring toward the mountains. Those in the encampment began to moan, mourning their dead.

* * *

The sky was violet. Shadows had lengthened around the village as the Earthfolk went about their unhappy work; the dead had to be buried. A band of men and women across the river were lifting dirt with their minds; clouds settled around their feet as they prepared a grave for Talah and the Merging Selves who had died with her. Other people were aiding the village in burying the few who had fallen there. Some outsiders had filtered into the village, where they now sat in the shade of the huts communing with Cerwen.

Lydee had led the stunned, silent Reiho farther up the bank and now sat with him near a garden. Lumps of dirt and bits of thatching were strewn about the garden, where tiny shoots poked above ground, still clinging to life.

“The break is mended,” Reiho said abruptly.

She glanced at him. He had said nothing since the end of the battle, as if the sight of the bloodshed had robbed him of the power to form words. She shivered; her hands were cold.

“The break?” she asked, unable to read his thoughts. “What do you mean?”

“I no longer feel the break separating me from my former self, the Reiho who died here. I’ve healed at last. Somehow —” He held out a hand, apparently unable to express himself.

She touched his mind. He was still the Reiho she knew, but she sensed the presence of a part of him she had not felt before.

“It was the shock,” she said at last, “the shock of seeing what happened here.”

“The image that reached out to me was my former self.”

The battle had clearly unhinged him. “It was only an image, nothing more.”

He sighed. “I don’t know. Perhaps the ghosts are images of another probability, another plane or continuum where those people still live, and the Minds have found a way to show them to us. Or maybe the Minds know how to preserve the mental patterns of those who are gone.”

“They’re only the memories the Minds hold of those who lived — they cannot be more.”

“All I know is that somehow I’ve been healed.”

She felt empty. Her mind was not calm; the sight of death had not healed her. That she was alive at all was only chance.

“Look at them, Reiho.” She waved a hand at the encampment. “They wanted us dead, and now they come among us. The Mindcores could have stopped it. They care nothing for us.”

/Nothing?/

She looked around hastily, but no one except Reiho seemed to have heard the voice.

/What would you have had Us do?/ the Minds went on. /If We had revealed Ourselves immediately to those who came here, many more would have died, and those who lived would have crushed this village in their fright/

  — There must be hundreds dead now — she thought bitterly.

/There might have been thousands. We could only aid this village while hoping that its enemies would begin to doubt their purpose and become open to Our words. Had We shown Ourselves too soon, the shock would have been too great for most of them. Those who died were not struck down by Us, but by their own inability to accept the truth. They killed themselves/

  — You might have prevented it — she protested.

/We could not. Do you think We watched without suffering? Now Earth will heal/

  — You kept us here. We weren’t needed. Perhaps the Earthfolk would have been better off without our presence —

/You are wrong, young one/

She waited, but heard no more. Reiho nudged her; she looked up.

Five young people with black hair and coppery complexions were approaching her on horseback. They slid off the backs of their mounts and came nearer, holding the reins. Lydee rose as one girl took a step toward her.

  — It is said that you are from the sky — the girl thought.

  — My companion is from the sky. I lived there and was raised there, but I was born here on Earth as a solitary —

  — Yet you mindspeak — the girl said.

  — Yes, and all solitaries can do the same. There is a way to open their minds —

The girl tilted her head. — That would be a blessing. So many mourn the small ones who cannot live, and now we need do that no more. You will stay here, then, and provide this gift to all —

Lydee lowered her eyes. — I don’t know what I’ll do. But then it’s not up to me. I don’t know if I can go home —

  — I sense that you have much to teach us and you might learn from us also —  

Lydee did not reply.

  — We must consider this. It goes against so much of what we’ve been taught — The Earthgirl paused. — Even now, our remaining Merging Selves are communicating with other villages, and all of Earth will wrestle with this truth. It will be hard for many to accept it —

The young people remounted and rode away. Other strangers stood in the road; she could feel their minds nudging at hers. She felt their sorrow, but also their hope. Slowly, she opened her mind.

14

The tents were down. Sacks had been loaded into wagons and onto the backs of horses. A few remaining Earthfolk had filed past Lydee, probing her mind and then touching her hands, reassuring themselves that she was real. Now they were shadows, retreating through the dusk, their figures blurred by the fading light. She felt bruised.

Lydee stretched, then rose. A few villagers lingered at the edges of the newly replanted fields; others were returning to their huts to prepare their evening meal. She caught a glimpse of Daiya and Reiho crossing the meadow.

Luret took her arm, startling her. “Your wall is strong,” Luret said aloud.

Lydee nodded, worn out. Her mind ached from all the probing of the last few days. She had shown the Earthfolk images of her world, longing for it as she shaped the pictures of the lake, the caves, and the river while feeling the disbelief, fear, or pity of those viewing the scenes. Daiya had tried to give the strangers hope, telling them of her plans to teach those born as solitaries. Some of the Earthfolk had responded to her thoughts with desperation as they tried to make sense of what had happened, while others, still mourning their dead, seemed lost, their thoughts in turmoil. Some, she knew, would not live.

“I’m very tired,” Lydee said at last.

“I understand,” Luret replied. “I know it was hard for you to open your mind to so many even after the time you’ve spent with us. You did well. Some have already come to trust you and Reiho.” She paused. “Come back to our hut tonight. Nenla and Kal won’t ask you to mindspeak if you don’t wish it, and Marellon will be glad to see you there. We can decide —”

“I can decide nothing. I need solitude for a while.”

Luret patted her arm, then departed.

* * *

Lydee strode across the meadow toward the shuttle. The craft had been righted and now stood nearer the hill, facing the village. Next to it, a fire burned; Daiya and Reiho sat near the flames. As Lydee approached, Daiya looked up; Reiho motioned to her. She sat down next to him.

  — We’ll have to help other villages — Daiya was thinking. — They may struggle as we have for so long — She glanced at Lydee. — You are unhappy —

Lydee shrugged. — Your village will take you back now, and you have a purpose. But I can’t share your life. I’ll always be outside it. The battle’s over —

  — It is not over —

  — It’s over for me. There’s nothing left for me to do here —

  — But there is, Lydee. We’ll need your help when more solitaries are born, as I’m sure they will be. You can teach them about your world and show that there is a bond linking all people wherever they live and whatever they are. We can’t even provide those devices they need without your help —

  — Homesmind can send you machines to do that, and to teach you about the links. You don’t need me —

  — You forget — Reiho said. — We are still unable to leave —

/You are mistaken/

Lydee started; the Minds had spoken inside all of them.

/We will not keep you here now if you do not wish it. The ordeal is past. The young Mind of your world will speak to you, and your vessel can take you there/ As They spoke, Lydee felt her channel open.

  — Homesmind — she called out.

I am here, Lydee
. Its voice seemed oddly mournful and weary.
At last we speak again
.

“Homesmind,” she said aloud.

I am sorry I could not regain contact, though I tried. It distresses Me that I could not reach out to you and Reiho. I watched, and could do nothing. You were the eyes through which I saw Earth’s suffering, and I could not act. That is a special torment for one like Me.
It paused.
Everyone here is concerned for both of you, and also for our future. We have much to contemplate. It seems I have much more to learn from the Minds there.

Her joy quickly subsided. She was free to go. She was once again linked to the Wanderer, yet dissatisfaction and disappointment still gnawed at her. She thought of Home, wondering if the cometdwellers would welcome links with Earth.

  — What do you want, then? — Daiya asked. — It seems that you don’t know —

  — To go back —

  — You can, yet that doesn’t seem to please you —

Lydee tugged at her silver sleeve. — I want to forget —

Reiho raised an eyebrow.

“I want to forget,” she repeated with her voice. “I don’t want to remember that we’re only objects for cybernetic Minds to use for some purpose of Their own. Homesmind calls me Its eye. It might better have called me one of Its cells. A body has millions of cells that die all the time, but the brain needn’t concern itself with them as long as new ones are created. Homesmind manipulated me to get me here, and used Reiho as well, and the Mindcores here have let hundreds of people die. Have you forgotten them?”

  — They had Their reasons — Daiya responded.

“They gave us an explanation. They might have lied. Anyway, what sort of reasoning is that? Let some die so that others don’t. It’s their own purposes that concern Them, not ours. The Minds here want to live and grow stronger, and Homesmind wants to learn from Them. They have no feelings for us.”

We are your servants
, Homesmind said.

“You are our master. We couldn’t even live on the Wanderer without You or something like You.”

I am. your creation, your child
.

“That was long ago. You rule us now, and the Minds of Earth have surpassed even You. They’ve used You as You’ve used us. They hid Themselves and then acted too late.”

  — Lydee — Daiya leaned forward. — It’s not the fault of the Minds that those things happened. Should They have forced Their will on us from the beginning? They might have, you know, but They left us free. I mourn those who died and wish that they could be restored, but at least they had the choice of living with truth or fleeing this world, and now others, the separate selves, the ones like you, will be able to live —

“I’ve done what I was sent here to do. You can’t ask more of me.”

  — No, I can’t — Daiya jabbed at the fire with a stick.

“What are you going to do, Reiho?” Lydee was afraid that she already knew.

  — I’ll stay, at least for a while. I’ll need another shuttle, and some tools — He turned toward Daiya. Lydee realized that he was again seeing the woman as the girl he had once known, and himself as the boy who had died years earlier.

  — You are yourself again — Daiya thought. — You are the Reiho I knew before —

  — Somehow I am. Not literally, but in some sense. All that was in him is in me, and I can accept it. Maybe that’s why I’ve healed, because I accept him, and myself —

Daiya touched his arm.

  — It’s strange, isn’t it? — Reiho continued. — I want to stay in the place I feared — He was no longer conscious of Lydee as Daiya drew his mind closer to hers.

Lydee rose and stomped away from the fire. She sat down again on the hillside in the darkness. Even her mentor was abandoning her now; Homesmind would have one eye on Earth. It did not matter. Her old friends on the Wanderer would help her forget.

A light fluttered across the meadow; Marellon was walking toward her with a torch. As he came up to her, he smothered the flame with his mind; darkness cloaked them as the torch sputtered out.

He sat next to her without speaking, his mind silent. Daiya and Reiho were still communing by the fire and Lydee thought she heard Marellon sigh. The black clouds above them parted, revealing the moon’s crescent and the comet’s tail.

“Your wall is up,” the boy said.

“I must get used to that. I’m going back to a place where one’s wall is always up.”

“So you’re going back.”

“Yes.”

“Your love is so weak, Lydee.”

“It isn’t true. I’ll always care for you in some way.”

“In some way,” he said mockingly. “I suppose your world’s Mind will call up images of me for you, and that will be enough.” She felt a pang; she had known she would disappoint him.

She turned toward him. “You could come with me, Marellon. No one would mind. Homesmind could teach you anything you wish to know. You might find life there easier and more pleasant than you think.”

“No, Lydee. You don’t really want me there — you’re only trying to make yourself feel better about leaving. You think you should offer the invitation, that’s all.”

“That isn’t true. I do want you to come — you must believe that.”

“You would begin to compare me with those you know, and you’d see me as primitive, the way you once did. You would come to scorn me. Better to remember me as you see me now.”

“Your love is as weak as mine,” she burst out. “You want to keep me on your world, but you won’t come to mine.”

“Love doesn’t have the same meaning for your people. That would divide us eventually.”

He was right about that, she thought. Her people would not tear at one another over love. “I’m sorry I can’t stay,” she whispered.

“You’re free to go. I can’t hold you. Love isn’t enough for either of us. We would have had to share something more — the same feeling about life and what we should do with it. A clean break is better.”

“What will you do?” she asked.

“I’ll stay here for a while. But some are already thinking of leaving for other villages so that those people can see that what’s happened here may not be so fearful as they think. We’ve passed through our ordeal and can help them struggle through theirs. It might help if a few of us live among them.” He paused. “I don’t know if I can stay in a place where everything would only remind me of you.”

“You’ll soon be past that. Such intense feelings can’t last for long.” Her words were sensible, yet they seemed cold even to her, and false.

She stood up. “I must go. It’s foolish to wait. I’ll say farewell to you now.”

“But you haven’t said your farewells to Luret, or to Nenla and Kal, or anyone else. They’ll be disappointed.”

“Say them for me. I think it’s better if I leave quickly. Supplies and another ship will have to be sent here, and I —” She swallowed, unable to endure the thought of long-drawn-out goodbyes. The kindly Nenla and Kal would no doubt prevail upon her to stay one more night; Luret would grieve at losing a friend. It would be simpler to spare them that, she told herself, knowing that it would also be easier for her.

“Go, then,” Marellon said as he rose. “I can always try to believe that if you had stayed a little longer, I might have changed your mind.”

She pulled at her finger, removing the ring her friends had given to her. “You may have this,” she said. “It was a gift to me, but I want you to have it. The stone is blue, like Earth’s oceans.”

Marellon lashed out suddenly, knocking the ring from her hand; the wall around his thoughts buckled. — Why would I want that? — he thought. She backed away, shielding herself from his anger. “You want to forget,” he said in a low voice. “I must forget, too. I won’t carry your memory with me in the shape of that bauble.” He turned away and strode down the hill.

  — Marellon — she called out with her mind. — Don’t leave in anger — He walked on, his shield up.

  — Marellon —

She waited. He moved on across the meadow, silvered by the light of the moon and comet. At last she heard his thoughts: — Good-bye, Lydee —

  — Good-bye —

She knelt, slapping the ground with one hand. A gleam caught her eye; her hand closed around the ring. She continued to watch Marellon until the clouds covered the moon and comet, hiding him from her sight.