Valhai (The Ammonite Galaxy) (11 page)

“It will take you many years, if you ask me.”

“I did not ask you, Six. But I do not think it will take me so long. My brain is not limited, like yours.”

“Thanks a bundle!”

“No. I mean it. You have to keep everything inside that ridiculous bone structure. I believe only the top part is dedicated to memory and thought processing?”

“Yes, the brain.”

“Exactly! What can you expect with such a small volume of brain cells? You are naturally limited in capacity and capability.”

“And I suppose you’re not?”

The bubble shook gently. “How many brain cells do you possess?”

Six tried to remember his physiology classes. “The whole thing weighs about two kilograms, I think. You?”

“About twenty tons.”

“Phew!”

“Quite. I do not think it will take me long to learn all the things you are taught here.”

“Where is it?”

“Where is what? My brain?”

“Yes.”

“It is not anywhere fixed. It is difficult to explain.” There was a brief pause in the signing as Arcan tried to find the words. “Look, you all have a lot of cells dedicated to making you move, so you can catch food . . . right?”

“Mmm.”

“So then you need bones and muscles because you move?”

“R . . . right.”

“Well, I don’t move like you do, so I do not need legs or arms or bones or muscles. All my cells can be moved anywhere inside me. My brain cells can be anywhere, but normally they are somewhere in the centre, protected.”

“You don’t eat?” asked Diva, who was at that moment feeling a bit hungry.

“Of course I ‘eat’ – only not like you do. You move the food to the cells and I move the cells to the food. It is much easier, and much more efficient. Which means I do not require so much food as creatures like you do.”

“Wow!” Six was impressed. “So you are all the lake . . .?”

“And the parts of me the Sellites have taken as their own.” Arcan considered for a few moments. “And all the other lakes on Valhai.”

“You are huge!”

“Thank you Six.” The bubble scintillated slightly. “I suppose it would seem so to something as small as you.”

“Well, Arcan. We are pleased to meet you.”

“I know.”

“No, you are supposed to say that
you
are pleased to meet us too.” Six tried to explain.

“You are very inferior creatures,” Arcan pointed out. “But I suppose I can say I am pleased to meet you, because you have started out a new era in my life.”

“Which means,” Six was quick to say, “that you are indebted to us.”

“I am not sure I follow . . .” Arcan said.

“Well, if we are the people responsible for the sudden jump in your evolutionary scale then you owe us, right?”

“Owe you . . . I am not sure . . .”

“We helped you, so you can help us,” Six clarified.

“If I can.”

“Great. Just checking. We’ll call in the favour one day.”

“As you wish.”

The two teenagers were exhausted by this time and so they said goodnight and settled down at last to sleep. Arcan worked in a different way, as he had no limbs or muscles which needed rest. And with so many brain cells it was a simple matter to rest some while others continued to work

GRACE WAS IN the study, trying to find out something about Diva on the interscreen that Vion had lent her. She had confirmed the girl’s story. She was listed as the only daughter of the chief elder of the main city on Coriolis, Mesteta. But that didn’t help very much at all, because it didn’t tell her how she could help Diva pass the test.

“Grace?” Grace nearly jumped out of her skin. Her nerves were shot with all this secrecy.

“Matri? Do you need anything?” she asked as she got hastily to her feet. She had been so concerned with her new friends that she had forgotten her mother.

“You must be ready for them when they come.”

“I know. I will be ready,” Grace said.

“No. Let’s do it now.” Her mother had
that
voice on. “We have to keep in practice. You never know when the attack will come.”

Previous experience told Grace that it was better to accede. She followed obediently and they both made their way to the exercise chamber.

“Now Grace,” her mother ordered. “Pick up the catana, and we will try the program at level three today.”

Grace did as she was asked. The only sign her mother had given recently of wanting to exercise was her determination to teach her daughter self-defence. They must have made a strange sight, she thought privately. Her mother was wearing the ubiquitous dressing-gown and her hair was all disheveled, and yet she went charging into the tridi mock-ups screeching full volume and brandishing the dagger about with terrible efficiency. Grace herself was dressed in slouch trousers and top, her own hair was flopping down from the catchring, and she was doing her best to finish off the tridi vandals with the catana. Her mother insisted on accompanying vocals, so she was yelling ferociously too, as loudly as she could.

They had to stop, because Grace suddenly found herself laughing so much she couldn’t go on.

“There is nothing funny about this,” Cimma rebuked.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Grace bent over at the waist, trying to catch her breath. It’s just that we must look really outlandish.”

“What does that matter? You won’t care what you look like when they start the attack!”

“But Matri, who is going to attack us here? We are safe in Sell. There are no enemies here,” Grace grumbled.

“Now don’t you disobey your father, young lady! You know he is always right!”

“But Magestra . . . Father . . . is . . . no longer with us.”

“He is here, don’t you worry about that. And he has told us to practice self-defense assiduously. Or do you think you are wiser than your father?” Cimma demanded.

“No, of course not. I . . .”

“Well then, stop behaving as if you thought you were!” Cimma went back to the controls of the program. “We will take it from the breaking of the lines again.”

Grace exhaled. Then bent her head dutifully. After all, she was getting exercise, and she was learning something new. What was wrong with that? She felt guilty about complaining to her mother. Cimma was only trying to protect her.

“I am indeed a bad daughter, Matri. I’m sorry.” She gave her mother a hug. This was dangerous; she nearly got her left earlobe sliced off in the process.

“You know I only want what is right for you,” Cimma complained.

“I know. I’m sorry. But you have to take better care of yourself, Matri. You aren’t eating or sleeping enough. Are you taking those pills Vion prescribed?”

“Well, if there was ever a stupid question! How do you expect me to be alert and ready for the attack if I am dosed up the eye sockets with calmers?”

“But you have to sleep,” Grace insisted.

“Your father is getting enough sleep for the two of us. I will sleep when my time comes. The periodic rests in the tanato chamber are sufficient for me now.”

“Let me take you to your bedchamber, Matri. You could sleep for a few hours there. I will stay on guard if you like.”

“I can’t sleep anywhere else.” The mother shook the daughter’s restraining hand away. “Let me go!”

They practiced for another hour, until Cimma was dripping with sweat at the effort. She was becoming weaker because of the lack of correct alimentation. Finally mother and daughter terminated the program, and made their way to the tanato chamber.

Grace stood watching as her mother climbed solemnly into what was to be her tomb in the future, settled herself into the scatter cushions and disposed herself for rest, perspiration still making her face shine. Grace scratched her hair, worried. Should she call Vion, or was this sort of thing normal for someone who had recently been bereaved? She blew air out of a closed mouth, then made a decision and went to the tridiscreen, to put in a request for a non-virtual visit from the doctor.

By the time Vion arrived, Grace had showered and dressed more acceptably. But before she took him to see Cimma, she wanted to hear all about his visit to Diva, the Coriolan.

He scrutinized her face. “You seem even more tired than last time I saw you Grace.”

“I . . . I didn’t sleep very well last night. Nothing to worry about.”

“Hmm. Why do I get the feeling you’re not being totally honest with me, I wonder?”

“Never mind me.” Grace was impatient. “You went to the bubbles, didn’t you? Tell me about it. Please.”

“How on earth did you know that?” Vion raised one eyebrow. “But, yes, I visited the bubbles, to see a Coriolan girl.”

“Did you?” Grace was eager. “Tell me about her.”

“She must be about your age. Had made up a lot of symptoms which wouldn’t have convinced anybody of their veracity.”

“Why do you think she did that?”

“I couldn’t ask. Atheron was hanging on to my every word.”

“Don’t tell me they have to put up with Atheron too! I thought only Sell children had him as a tutor!”

“Apparently not. He was watching the process with great interest.”

Grace snorted. “He would!” she said.

“I see you still have him as class master?” Vion grinned.

“Don’t I just!” Grace said. “I am so tired of listening to him. He is always going on and on about how I don’t excel in anything, and how all Sellites are required to fulfil their potential,
if
they have one, Grace, blah, blah!” Her mouth turned down. “He has a nasty way of saying that ‘if’ that makes me feel about the height of a Cesan worm!”

“Yes, I remember,” said Vion sympathetically. “He always did have a masterful sarcasm he could pull out to make you feel useless.”

Grace looked up at him. “Did he use it on you too, then? But you are . . . that is . . . you have finished your studies.”

“I had a lot of doubts when I was about your age,” Vion confessed. Then he shrugged. “I finally gave in and took the medicine course, but there was a period of about six months when all Sacras let loose. Everybody turned on the pressure: my mother, father, and of course the excruciatingly derisive smile of Atheron. I think he was the worst of all.”

Grace put her head on one side. “Are you glad you became a doctor, now?”

He took a deep breath. “I didn’t dislike the studies, and it feels good to have graduated, but I don’t feel I was born to be a doctor, the way Sellites my age should feel. They all seemed totally clear and certain about their futures. There was never any doubt in any of them. I always feel doubt.”

Grace gave a wide smile. “So do I!”

He returned the smile. His face became illuminated. “There you are, see. That makes two of us!”

Grace’s smile slipped. “Except I still have Atheron to put up with,” she said. “And there really doesn’t seem to be anything I excel at.”

“There will be someday, Grace,” he promised. “I think you are a very special person, anyway.”

“Thank you.” She reddened with pleasure.

“Well, to get back to the Coriolan girl,” Vion said, “I couldn’t ask her what was going on because naturally Atheron was listening avidly.”

“So what did you do?”

“I ordered three days complete rest and a few pills, to make it look convincing.”

“Terrific! She is . . . I mean . . . she must be grateful to you.”

“I think I was just pleased to have the chance to pull the wool over Atheron’s eyes,” he admitted.

“Who wouldn’t be?”

“So, what is this about your mother?”

Grace explained the recent events to him and he looked thoughtful. “I had better examine her,” he said.

They put this into practice, and though Cimma was suspicious she didn’t actually accuse Grace of having called in the doctor.

“Now you are here Vion,” she said. “you might as well give me a medical. Grace seems to think I’m wasting away! You will be able to put her mind at rest.” Cimma walked up to touch fingers with him, and Vion stepped nimbly to one side to avoid being pinked by the dagger.

“Let’s go into the medical room, Cimma,” he said. “I can look you over, and we can talk about it.”

“Let me go first. I want to make sure you aren’t attacked on the way.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do. You really ought to be carrying a weapon of some sort, you know, Vion. It is dangerous to be walking around these days with no line of defense.”

“I am considered fairly useful with my bare hands, Cimma,” he told her mildly. “I practiced full body attack at university.”

“Good. Good. We all need to be ready. Now come and pay your respects to Xenon 48; we can stop at the tanato chamber, which is on the way to the medical room.”

“I should like that.”

Grace couldn’t hear any more of the conversation. She retreated to the receiving room to wait for Vion to finish his examination.

He came in some ten minutes later.

“Is she going to be all right?” Her voice cracked. She loved her mother very much, and it was hard to see her like this. Cimma had always been emotional, but she had been a basically happy and loving mother. Now . . . now, she was a different person.

Vion touched her shoulder very gently. “I don’t know,” he told her. “She is unable to overcome the death of your father. They were very close, you know. I don’t know if she will be able to function without him.”

“But I am here for her!” wailed Grace.

“I am sorry, Grace. I am sure she loves you very much, but I am not sure that that is going to be enough.”

“What will happen to her?” Grace was crying herself, now. “She hasn’t done any harm to anyone.”

“Yet.”

“She just doesn’t want to be the same Cimma she always was. Can’t we let her decide who she wants to be?”

Vion shook his head. “It is a difficult case to evaluate. She needs time. Hopefully she will begin to function a little better. If she doesn’t . . . well, we will take that hurdle when we come to it. The problem is that she could damage herself or somebody else with that knife of hers.”

“I hope you don’t mean she will have to go to hospital?”

Vion hesitated. “I hope not,” he said. “But if there is no improvement there may be no other alternative – you know the rules.”

Grace nodded glumly. Any Sellite who was diagnosed to be unstable was removed to Cesis where they were cared for by Cesan staff in the Sellite subsidized hospital. It was much safer for the sick people themselves, and the whole Sellite community.

But if that . . . calamity . . . ever happened, it would mean that the 48
^th
floor would be vacated, and that Grace would be moved up, willy-nilly, to the 49th floor – under the direct orders of her brother. Never!