Look to Windward (49 page)

He stared at the creature. ~ Culture Minds? he asked.

~ Now isn't that a terrible thing to have to think? That our own might turn against us?

~ But why?

~ Because we might be becoming too soft. Because of that complacency, that decadence. Because some of
our Minds might just think that we need a bit of timely blood and fire to remind us the universe is a perfectly uncaring place and that we have no more right to enjoy our agreeable ascendancy than any other empire long fallen and forgotten. The avatar shrugged. ~ Don't be so shocked, Quilan. We could be wrong.

It looked away for a moment. Then it said,

~ No luck with the wormholes. It sounded sad. ~ We may never know now. It turned to look at him again. There was an expression of terrible sorrow on its face. ~ You've wanted to die since you realized you'd lost her, since you recovered from your wounds, haven't you, Quilan?

~ Yes.

It nodded. ~ Me too.

He knew the story of its twin, and the worlds it had destroyed. He wondered, assuming it was telling the truth, how many lifetimes of regret and loss you could fit into eight hundred years, when you could think, experience and remember with the speed and facility of a Mind.

~ What will happen to Chel?

~ A handful of individuals—certainly no more—may pay with their lives. Other than that, nothing. It shook its head slowly. ~ We cannot let you have your balancing souls, Quilan. We will try to reason with the Chelgrian-Puen. It's tricky territory for us, the Sublimed, but we have contacts.

It smiled at him. He could see his broad, furred face reflected in the image's delicate features.

~ We still owe you for our mistake. We will do all
we can to make amends. This attempt does not absolve us. Nothing has been balanced. It squeezed his hand. He had forgotten they were still holding each other. ~ I am sorry.

~ Sorrow seems a common commodity, doesn't it?

~ I believe the raw material is life, but happily there are other by-products.

~ You are not really going to kill yourself, are you?

~ Both of us, Quilan.

~ Do you really—?

~ I am tired, Quilan. I have waited for these memories to lose their force over the years and decades and centuries, but they have not. There are places to go, but either I would not be me when I went there, or I would remain myself and so still have my memories. By waiting for them to drop away all this time I have grown into them, and they into me. We have become each other. There is no way back I consider worth taking.

It smiled regretfully and squeezed his hand again.

~ I'll be leaving everything in good working order, and in good hands. It'll be a more-or-less seamless transition, and nobody will suffer or die.

~ Won't people miss you?

~ They'll have another Hub before too long. I'm sure they'll take to it, too. But I hope they do miss me a little. I hope they do think well of me.

~ And you'll be happy?

~ I won't be happy or unhappy. I won't be. Neither will you.

It turned more toward him and held out its other hand.

~ Are you ready, Quilan? Will you be my twin in this?

He took its other hand.

~ If you will be my mate.

The avatar closed its eyes.

Time seemed to expand, exploding all around him.

His last thought was that he'd forgotten to ask what had happened to Huyler.

Light shone in the sky above the Bowl.

Kabe, lost in the silence and the darkness, watched the light of the star called Junce as it flickered and then blazed, close enough to the earlier, fading nova of Portisia to all but drown it out.

At his side, Quilan, who had been very quiet and still for some time, suddenly slumped forward in his curl-pad and collapsed to the floor before Kabe could catch him.

“What?” he heard Tersono screech.

The applause was starting.

Breath flowed out of the Chelgrian's mouth, then he went quite still.

Noises of shock and consternation built up around Kabe, and—as he hunkered down and tried to revive the dead alien creature—another bright, bright light shone above; exactly, precisely overhead.

He called Hub for help but there was no answer.

Space, Time

—fear and the sudden tearing pain, the huge white-furred face suddenly filling his vision; the despair and terror and the anger at having been betrayed as he woke and tried—too late, far too late—to bring his hands up in what would have been a futile gesture anyway, then the ferocious thud as the creature's huge jaws slammed into his neck, and the agony of the steel-like hold and the instant constriction, the cutting-off from air, and the shaking; neck snapping, brain rattling, dislodging him from sense and life …

Something rasped against his neck; there went aunt Silder's necklace. The shaking went on. Something thin and broken whipped tinily against his neck as the blood sprayed out and the breath was worried out of him. You bastard, he thought, slipping away again from the savage side-to-side thrashing.

The pain went on, fading, as he was dragged now, held by the neck, through the alien ship. His limbs hung limp, cut off from his brain; he was a rag, a broken puppet. The corridors still smelled of rotting fruit. Eyes gummed with his own blood. Nothing to be done, nothing to hope for.

Mechanical noises. Then the feeling of being dropped. A surface beneath him. Released, his head felt barely joined to his body, rolling onto its side.

Sounds of growling and tearing and slashing, sounds he felt ought to connect to pain, to some sensation at least, but which meant nothing. Then silence, and darkness, and the inability to do anything but witness this slow fading-away of sensation itself And another small pain near the nape of his neck; a final, tiny jab, like an afterthought; almost comical.

Failed. Failed to get back. Failed to warn. Failed to be the hero. It was not supposed to end this way, dying a lonely, painful death, conscious only of betrayal, fear and hopelessness.

Hissing. Fading. Cold. Movement; being scraped along inside a sudden, chill breeze.

Then utter silence, utter cold, and no weight whatsoever.

Uagen Zlepe, scholar, felt cheated that his blood-gummed eyes prevented him from seeing the distant stars in their vacuum-naked state as he died.

•   •   •   

—Great Yoleusenive, this is that which was found in the without by the servants of the Hiarankebine six thousand and three hundred beats to aft. It was brought within the world for the inspection of the Hiarankebine, which sends these remains with its esteem and compliments, believing that your self might add to the sum of knowledge with its revered evaluation.

—This form may have been known to the one to whom you address your remarks. Its appearance brings associations, memories. They are old, though. Now beginning is a deep search of our long-term memory
archival storage capacity. This will take some time to complete. Let us talk further on the subject before us while said search is taking place.

—Very well. Of interest is that the analysis of the creature's cellular instruction set indicates that the form in which it appears here is not that with which it was first birthed. A representation of the form it would have according to the original cellular instruction set is shown here:

—That form was once known to us, we are sure, just as this one might have been once known to us. The representation that you have shown here corresponds to the form which is, or was, known as human. Appended to the deep search of our memory archives which was mentioned earlier will be the image that you are showing here. This search has not discovered anything of note thus far. It will take a little longer to complete because of the appendment of the visual image of the human form to it.

—Human. This is interesting to us, though the nature of the interest is historical.

—The creature concerned would appear to have accrued injuries that are not those one would associate with exposure to the conditions which prevail in the without, that is primarily the lack of medium, which absence is commonly termed vacuum, and the associated lack of any temperature save the most negligible.

—Yes. The creature's neck is not supposed to be of the appearance that one may see here, either in the form shown physically before us or in the form which has been recreated in visual form from the biological assignment array. Similarly, its torso appears to have
been forcefully and injuriously opened, while these surfaces seem to have been lacerated.

—The creature has been bitten, gouged and slashed.

—Such are the actions one would most naturally associate with the alterations to the creature's physiology.

—What is known of these injuries, and in particular what is known of their timing relative to the apprehension of the object from the without?

—It is believed that this damage was incurred very shortly before the creature was expelled from whatever medium-containment artifact it inhabited prior to said expulsion. The various injuries indicate that the creature was in a state not compatible with the continuance of its life—save for immediate and most highly enabled medical assistance—before its expulsion into the without, where it would, naturally, die. The circulatory fluid has sprayed out here, here and here and then frozen subsequently as a result of the low temperatures encountered in the without.

—The frozen nature of the creature as we see it here is as it was when it was found originally, then.

—That is the case. The medium-repelling bubble in which it can be seen to reside was emplaced before its induction from the without. Only very small particles of its body have been brought to ambient conditions to allow the analyzes concerning which we have already communicated.

—These small and widespread tissue damages would indicate that the creature was at least still of a temperature approximate to its normal and healthy operating state and possibly still in an alive condition
when it was expelled into the without. Would it be the case that the Hiarankebine might agree?

—It is the case.

—This level of most-small damage would indicate that the creature's remains have been exposed in the without for a long time, an interval which might be of the order of a significant proportion of a Grand Cycle, though not in the order of many such intervals.

—The Hiarankebine is of a similar belief.

—Is it the case that the direction and velocity of the creature's remains at the time of its discovery have been recorded?

—It is. The creature's remains were static in the without according to accepted definition number three to within approximately the speed of slow breath at standard temperature and pressure. Such vectoriality was of an orientation similar to the world's to within a quarter-paring.

—The deep search which it was intimated was begun remains under way but has still failed to discover anything of interest. What other results from the particles that have been brought to ambient conditions have been added to the store of knowledge?

—Some of the frozen liquid taken from the edges of the wound which the creature suffered upon its neck region has provided biological instruction set information which tends to indicate that the wound-inflicting agent may have been an individual of the species known as the Lesser Reviled.

—That is interesting. Their name was earlier the Chelgrians, or the Chel, before the outrage that befell the Sansemin occurred. To what level of completeness
was the analysis of the human form which was found to be implicit in the creature that we see before us taken?

—Sufficient to provide the image which is seen here.

—It is the case that a more complete image of the creature, even to the order of recreated biological corporeality, might further refine and focus the knowledge of the creature's species' place in the greater world of all life.

—This might be accomplished with equal honor and ability by the Hiarankebine or by that to which these remarks are respectfully addressed.

—The task is one we are happy to assume. It is noted that the creature is still clothed and has about its neck a piece, or the remains of a piece, of jewelry. Is it the case that an analysis of any depth regarding these extraneous objects has been carried out?

—It is not, mighty Yoleusenive.

—The deep search of our stored and non-volatile and off-system recall functions which it was intimated was earlier begun has now concluded. The creature that is before us was of the name Uagen Zlepe, a scholar who came to study the embodiment of the self to which you speak from the civilization which was once known as the Culture.

—These names are not known to us.

—No matter. The body of this creature must have drifted in the without for a little over the period accounted for by one complete world-cycle, waiting here with that close-to-imperceptible fore-directed drift which was earlier mentioned, until the world fulfilled another revolution about the galaxy and sailed
again into this region of space. This is good to know. This piece of information ramificates and completes. It adds considerably to the sum of knowledge, as will be explained in a report to be prepared for the Hiarankebine. Is it possible for that to whom these remarks are addressed to attend the finalization of said report, the more expeditiously to convey it to the Hiarankebine?

—It is.

—Good. It may then be worthwhile carrying out further investigations, which that to whom you have addressed your remarks would be glad to undertake. It is to be hoped that the Hiarankebine will share the pleasure that is both experienced and anticipated by the Yoleusenive. A series of events which before had no conclusion now may have. This is satisfying to ourselves.

•   •   •   

His eyes flicked open. He stared straight ahead. Where there should have been the awful white-furred face above him, jaws hinging open, or the cold stars spinning slowly as he tumbled, there was instead a familiar figure, hanging upside down from a branch inside a large, brightly lit circular space.