Helix (40 page)

“But
new experiences await you, child. The new supplants the old, as the scriptures
state, and all is to be appreciated with eyes as receptive as those of a
newborn.”

She
smiled and nictitated her large eyes. “I was wondering if... that is, when I
return to visit my siblings at holiday times, I might come to visit you, too?”

A
chasm of sadness opened within him, and he reached out and laid a shaky, scaled
hand upon her arm. “Child, time moves on, does it not, and takes all with it?
We are born, we live in full appreciation of what has been granted us, and then
we take our leave.”

She
nictitated again, the lower shutters blinking upwards to momentarily occlude
the pink orbs of her eyes. “Watcher?”

He
let out a breath. “Sela, the Creator has decreed that my time on Calique is
short. I am soon to pass on.”

She
opened her mouth, perturbed. “So soon?”

He
gave a chuckle. “I am almost one hundred cycles old.”

“But
even so—”

“The
stones have foretold the end, Sela. But it is an end not without event.” He
considered for a second, then rose slowly and said, “Stay here. I will show
you.”

He
crossed the lawn, his passage raising scent into the warm night air. He hobbled
into his study, a great hole in the rock scattered with charts and old books,
and even the odd plate covered with stale food.

He
found his stones in their gourd and carried it out to where Sela was standing
patiently beside the scope, her slight form dwarfed by the antique intricacy of
its brass and leather housing.

He
gestured to the lawn and she sat quickly, cross-legged. More slowly, he lowered
himself and faced her.

He
shook the gourd. “Every day for the past cycle,” he said, “I have cast the
stones and received the same foretokening. Watch.”

He
rattled the stones in the gourd, their percussion pleasing to his ear. He
tipped the gourd. Six stones spilled out, tumbled across the grass and came to
rest revealing planes which showed three active symbols—Setting Sun, Full Cup,
Running Hog—and three abstract—Ultimate Achievement, Heat, Quiescence.

He
smiled, “So you see, my child, a satisfactory end, but one which is wrapped
with incident.”

She
looked up at him. “Have you cast further within each symbol for a more concrete
foretokening?”

He
smiled, and lied to her, for the first time in his long acquaintance with the
acolyte. “I have not. It is enough to know what the stones tell me here.”

She
inclined her head in understanding. “You have been kind with your time,
Watcher. I have kept you from your duties.” She rose gracefully, then helped
him to his feet.

“Sleep
well, Sela.”

“I
will bring your herbs for five further evenings before I leave, Watcher. Each
one will be an honour.”

He
watched her move from the lawn and take the stairway that wound down inside the
mountain to the acolytes’ dormitory, an ache of sadness within his chest.

He
resumed his seat before the scope, but paused before resuming his duties.
Despite what he had told Sela, he had cast further within each symbol,
intrigued to know more about the manner of his passing: it was the incongruous
Heat symbol that had piqued his curiosity, for it was an odd sign to have among
the five that obviously told of his passing.

His
further casting had been more definite: before his death he would see great
things, and his death would be violent, and he would meet his end at the hands
of an outsider, moreover an outsider who professed to do the duties of his God.

And
it would all happen within the next five days.

How
could he have burdened such an innocent soul as Sela’s with news of this
import?

He
bent his head to the scope’s eyepiece and resumed his search.

An
hour passed, then two. He sipped his herbal water, felt it revitalise his tired
system. His mind strayed to the portent of the stones, and he chastised himself
for not concentrating upon his task. His fate was of little concern beside the
correct scanning of the heavens.

It
was perhaps a minute from the third bell, which would spell the midpoint of his
shift, when he saw it. He gasped, felt shock rock him like an attack of ague.

That
for which the Guild of Watchers had been established, the event which the
scriptures spoke of as the ultimate in the history of Calique... it was
happening, there in the night sky above the sleeping rainforest, and on his
shift. He was mistaken, of course. A firefly had lodged itself upon the lens of
his scope, tricking his tired brain and raising his hopes.

But
what firefly scored a trail across the heavens like this, trailing fire in its
wake as it descended? He swung the scope, tracking the fall of the hallowed
craft towards the rainforest. It fell at an angle, which levelled out as it
approached the mountain. He could not make out the object itself, just the
fiery signature it trailed through the night.

As
he watched, the fire went out to reveal the vessel itself, a golden craft that
fell through the treetops at an acute angle and vanished from sight. He
expected an explosion, or some sound to denote its landing, but evidently the
craft still flew on below the high treetops, for from time to time Watcher Phar
witnessed, along the route of its flight, the canopy shake violently with the
ship’s passage.

He
watched with rapture, his old heart knocking in his chest. At a point perhaps
one day from the mountain, the movement in the forest canopy ceased, suggesting
to Pharan that the vessel had come to a final halt.

There
could be no mistaking the event, could there? He was not going mad in his final
few days? But the stones had forecast that great things would precede his
demise, had they not?

He
gathered himself, stood and hurried, as fast as his old legs could carry him,
towards the interior steps. He plunged into the shadows, relieved only every
ten lengths by flickering candles. He was grateful that no one else was abroad
this late to witness his flustered state. It would be enough to stand shaking
before the Venerable Kham and endure his incredulity.

He
arrived at the door behind which the Venerable had his rooms. He would be sleeping
now, sleeping the innocent sleep of the holiest Caliquan on the mountain.
Pharan hesitated before he knocked, but the miracle of his discovery gave him
strength.

The
door was opened by an acolyte, and Pharan rushed past him to the door which
gave on to the bedchamber. He said, “Rouse the Venerable. Great things are
astir. I must have an immediate audience.”

He
had dreamed of this day for most of his life, and now he was giving orders as
if he were some uncouth ignoble. “My apologies, but it is of the gravest matter
of importance that I speak with Venerable Kham.”

The
acolyte bowed, slipped into the bedchamber, and seconds later emerged. “Please,
enter.”

Pharan
did so, attempting to control the shaking of his limbs.

Venerable
Kham was sitting up in his bed-chair, blinking himself awake. “Pharan? What
brings you flapping in like a nightbird?”

Pharan
fell to his knees. “Venerable Kham, it has happened. They are here. I witnessed
their fall but minutes ago.”

Venerable
Kham merely stared at Pharan. “And you are not mistaken? A dream, maybe?”

“I
was awake with herbs, and alert. I saw the fall.”

“Within
close reach?”

“A
day away, by my estimation. To the north, beside the fourth loop of the Phar.”
Pharan cleared his throat. “I hereby request to mount a caravan, to meet the
Fallen and take them to the Sleeper.”

These
were the words that every watcher down the cycles had dreamed of pronouncing
before their Venerable Master, and it had fallen to Pharan to speak them.

The
Venerable inclined his head. “Your request is granted. I will call the acolytes
to order. You will leave with the dawn.”

Euphoric,
Pharan returned to his garden and assembled his scant belongings for the
journey to meet the Fallen.

Hendry awoke and
opened his eyes. Sunlight, striking through the ship’s forward viewscreen,
warmed his face. He was overcome with a sudden and overwhelming sense of
well-being. The events on the ice-bound planet seemed a long way off. The
attack of the alien militia, even though he could still feel the pain, was an
event that seemed to belong to a much earlier chapter of his life. Perhaps it
was the sunlight, he thought, betokening an end to their troubles—an end to
their search for a habitable world.

He
was aware of someone beside him, curled sleeping with a hand across his chest.
Then again, he thought, perhaps he felt so good because he had found Sissy
Kaluchek.

He
sat up, careful not to disturb her. Carrelli was lying on the control couch,
arms enwrapped about the curious frame, which more resembled a beetle’s
chitinous outgrowth than anything mechanical.

On
the opposite couch, the giant lay dead and rigid, like the bas-relief of a
knight on an ancient sarcophagus.

Between
the couches, the two lemur creatures were asleep, hugging each other.

Through
the viewscreen Hendry made out the serried, vertical boles of what looked like
immensely tall palm trees, with the dense cover of their foliage high overhead.
Carrelli was easing the ship through the forest, the snout of the vessel nosing
aside tree trunks as if they were stalks of grass.

Olembe
was sitting against the far bulkhead, watching her. “What gives, Carrelli?”
Evidently he too had just woken up.

She
glanced across at him. “I’ve cut the main drives. We’re hovering on auxiliaries.
Havor was afraid that the Church might follow us in their own ship—well, the
ship they appropriated from his people.”

“Havor
being the alien?” Hendry asked, indicating the dead giant.

Carrelli
nodded. “His people are the Zorl. They inhabited the world neighbouring the
lemur’s world. The Church rule the latter.”

“And
our guests oppose the rule of the Church?” Hendry asked, glancing at the
sleeping lemur and its mate.

“So
I understand,” Carrelli said.

Hendry
imagined life on a world where the truth, quite literally, was hidden; how
might the race of a world shrouded in perpetual cloud come to any true
understanding of its place in the universe?

Olembe
said, “What now?”

“We
land,” Carrelli said, “somewhere hidden from the Church ship, if they have indeed
followed us. And then we explore this place.”

“Perhaps,”
Hendry ventured, expecting Carrelli to dash his hopes, “this might be the
Earth-like world we’ve been looking for?”

She
smiled. “Perhaps you’re right, Joe. My telemetry says that the atmosphere’s
breathable, and the temperature’s thirty Celsius. It’s too early to tell yet,
but it looks good.”

Olembe
said, “Of course, it might be inhabited already.”

“That’s
always a possibility,” Carrelli conceded.

“In
which case we simply move along to the next one,” Hendry said, countering the
African’s pessimism.

“Okay,”
Olembe said, “so we find a habitable world. What then? How do we work out how
to get the colonists up here?”

Carrelli
eased the ship through the forest, staring through the screen. She said, “Our
first priority should be finding somewhere suitable to settle. After that we
can debate our next move.”

Olembe
pressed, not to be sidetracked. “It’s always best to plan ahead, Carrelli. If
we only have this ship, which according to you isn’t functioning at full
capacity, then it’s going to be a long hard job ferrying three thousand
colonists up two tiers.”

Hendry
said, “You’ve forgotten the umbilicals. There might be more.”

“I’m
working on the assumption that we can’t rely on them,” Olembe said. “I’m looking
at a worst-case scenario.”

Carrelli
smiled to herself. “Let’s just land and see what kind of place this is, and
then consider the future, okay?”

The
lemurs were waking. Jacob blinked, looking around at the flight-deck, its large
eyes lingering on the humans. Its gaze settled on the corpse of the alien, and
it opened its mouth in a silent gesture. Hendry could only guess at what
thought processes were going on behind those discus-like eyes, but he chose to
interpret the alien’s reaction as grief. Beside Jacob, its friend came to its
senses and sat up suddenly, clutching Jacob in evident alarm.

Hendry
raised a hand and smiled. “Tell them we’re friends, Gina.”

Carrelli
spoke to the lemurs, who replied. They conversed for a few minutes, the
flight-deck filled with their high-pitched dialogue. At last the lemurs turned
to stare up and out of the viewscreen.

Carrelli
said, “I’ve told him what we’re doing, where we are from. I don’t think he
fully understands the concepts of individual planets.” She shook her head.
“Which is understandable. Until a few days ago, apparently he had no idea that
his world was just one of many on the helix. Their Church taught that their
world was a flat platform floating in a grey void.”