Scanned by Highroller. Proofed by the best elf proofer. Made prettier by use of EBook Design Group Stylesheet. The Book of Rack the Healer Zach Hughes I For the pleasure of Deepsoft the Keeper, the arching dome of her chamber was drawn to a thinness that admitted the dayglow. Through the membranous shell filtered yellowish purple light reflected from the clouds of noxious gases that, at the end of the sun circle, lifted from dank, dark valleys and thickened the atmosphere. The shifting light attracted Deepsoft's wide, pink eyes. Her heavy head lifted, nodded, jerked. Her long-fingered hands plucked at her coverlet. Her legs moved awkwardly with a lack of coordination. She made a sound of pleasure as winds high above swirled the thick atmosphere, and the dome glowed russet for a long time. The coverlet, made of the same material as the dome, the sleep-rack on which Deepsoft lay, and the one chair that completed the furnishings of her chamber, bunched up and exposed the lower segment of her nude body. Her feet kicked aimlessly, brushing the warm, soft wall. Her brain registered the sensations—shifting light, smoothness on the soles of her feet, warmth, comfort, the flex of the coverlet under her fingers. She lifted her head and made the pleasure sounds. Time was meaningless. As her movements jostled her full stomach she burped wetly. A trickle ran from her full lips down her white chin. Overhead the cooling masses of polar air caused condensed moisture to fall in huge, fat drops on the dome. She clucked in delight. One long arm lifted, reached up as if to touch the splat, splat sounds. The light turned purple again, changing the shadows on her face. Her mood changed with the light, her face twisting. Her lips made an explosive, complaining sound; her brain was now registering discomfort. She needed. Her entire consciousness sent out the need and it was urgent. Red Earth the Far Seer left his contemplation in the adjoining chamber to tend her. She was momentarily distracted in an amusing effort to stand, supported by Red Earth. Her legs were rubbery in spite of their firm tone. He held her and communicated soothing things as he positioned her and listened as she completed the basic function. Although his smooth knob of a head had no ears or eyes, he sensed all in great detail. Deepsoft tried to thrust one of her long-fingered, graceful hands between her spread legs to feel the results. «Negative, negative,» he sent, slapping her hand lightly. He gave no pain for it would have taught no lesson, would have registered as a meaningless hurt having no connection with her innocent desire to thrust her hand into warmth. He cleaned her, feeling pleasure in her rounded, full form. Deepsoft. She was aptly named. Night was near. He put her into the sleeprack and raised the protective siding, the siding which was made of the Material. Her hands felt along the smooth surface of it. His own hands also partook of pleasure as they caressed her face. Deepsoft made little pleasure sounds and reached for his hand. Her body moved. In contrast to the awkwardness of her limbs her body was a sultry entity. Her mid- section lifted in an inviting rhythm. Red Earth, who had been roused from deep contemplation by her need, had been about to depart. But now he stood undecided, and then examined her. His bulky, tough-skinned, bare knob did not move, since there were no eyes to follow her length, no ears to hear her sounds. But his hands knew her long, white legs. His hands caressed the firm roundness of her chest bulges. His senses traced her and measured her and she relaxed and lay still as his hand teased, pressed. Her pink eyes followed the shifting light patterns above, but her body was attuned to the sensations of his fingers pleasing her. Then the momentary diversion was over and he was gone. Her eyes widened to gather the fading light. Movements of great cloud masses in the storms that accompanied the end of the sun circle isolated Red Earth's establishment. The stagnant gases made the dim distances seem vaster as visibility was reduced. Light-sensing organs could not penetrate even as far to the north as the beginnings of the plains of glass. Only the senses of one such as Red Earth could see the great river and the high escarpment to the west. Only Red Earth, in his establishment, could read the density of concentrated gases in the rift valley to the south and could penetrate the toxic gases to see the motionless, misshapen vegetation on the valley floor. He saw all. He saw the shift of frequency in the atmosphere where Deepsoft's inferior light-sensing organs saw only the shift of color. In his sanctuary, Red Earth idly noted the condition of the surrounding environment. The survival factor was low, as usual at the end of the sun circle. He mourned, the build-up of stagnant poisons and the decline of breathable air. He could feel the rise in temperature when a particularly dense cloud passed and the far sun sent its dying rays through the eternal haze. He shivered internally as he sensed the polar masses moving south and east. But even as he registered these impressions, he searched his area of responsibility. Everything seemed normal. In far-scattered establishments his people were shut away from the toxic storms, comfortable with their carefully nurtured hoards of air-making Breathers. During his rounds, he passed a casual greeting with his coresponsor Growing Tree, who used only a small amount of energy to answer as he tended a colony of Juicers at the Eastern Group Establishment. It was a moment of peace, if one could ignore the storm and the consequent lessening purity of the atmosphere. But it was always thus and those who cried disaster when the storms blew had cried disaster before. A Power Giver soared high above the roiling clouds. Red Earth did not bother to establish contact or to ascertain identity. Power Givers were notoriously capricious. The flight, of course, was a shameful waste, but it was her own energies and substance the Power Giver was consuming. If one fulfilled one's responsibilities, one's actions were one's own—a principle that held even for Power Givers. Yet, the waste vaguely disturbed Red Earth and he sought to distract himself by watching two young Healers, at the mid- point of their learning. They were moving outside, using stored life for long periods. As they were unable to utilize the outside air with its high toxic content, their lungs held pure air and their gills pumped out poisons. A Webber had escaped an establishment adjacent to the Eastern Group Establishment. Red Earth watched anxiously until the two youngsters, moving slowly, not wasting life or force, herded the weakening Webber back to her kind in the enclosure. She would survive. Near the sea, the process of food-making continued with pleasing steadiness. And, more exciting, a rare joining was in process. Without prying openly, Red Earth took satisfaction in the beautiful act. He lifted his feelings to the toxic sky and, although there was no movement of his bare knob of a head, the effect was a nod of blessing and pleasure. A new life was being created. That he himself would never know the true beauty of the act was unimportant. He felt no jealousy for the Healer engaged in joining with a Power Giver, creating life. It was the nature of things. In return, Healers and Power Givers held no envy for his ability to achieve the pleasure of the act repeatedly, even though that mysterious force which governed life allowed the Healers and the Power Givers only one or two unions. Nature gave the Far Seers pleasure to compensate for their inability to create life, and, always logical, limited the fertile ones. A dying planet was capable of supporting just so many. Red Earth carried many burdens, but the burdens were not without their rewards. And Far Seers were accustomed to the burdens, having long since become resigned to responsibility. Deepsoft. Power Givers could squander their precious substance in meaningless soarings above the toxic clouds for the simple joys of vision unobscured by clouds of dense gases and of breathing the thin wisps of pure air. Healers could ramble aimlessly. Each had his duty and if it were performed the Far Seers would see to their survival. The storms would pass. The noxious, heavy gases would settle back into the valleys. Then even one so fragile as Deepsoft could bask outside in the glow of the filtered sun. Life would go on under the high clouds of summer. The new joining on the eastern sea would produce —what? Hopefully, a Far Seer. Or, perhaps, just perhaps, the long awaited New One. That wish, Red Earth knew, was pure indulgence. Nature and nature alone could anticipate the need for a New One. He, in his limited wisdom, could not dare to imagine the needs dictated by the planet. Still he allowed himself to wonder about the New One. Would he be able to eat the poisonous leafy things? Breathe the toxic vapors? Be warmed rather than damaged by the projectiles shot down through the perpetual haze by the sun? Only nature would know. But when the New One came, as he inevitably would, then the Far Seers, the Keepers, the Power Givers, and the Healers and all the rest would be the Old Ones and life would continue despite the giant flares of the sun that tried their worst to return the planet to primordial emptiness. It was a comfort to believe. Red Earth turned back to his tasks. He recorded the rise of the planet's satellite to the east, his sense bouncing there and back with a noticeable lag. He felt the solidity there and tested the depth of the craters. He searched, unsuccessfully of course, for breathable air, life-giving water, and symbiotic Breathers on the satellite. Then he turned to the sister worlds circling the sun, other planets unseen by any save the Far Seers, sensing, measuring, recording. For his records, Red Earth sent the information he had gleaned into the vast storehouse of Deepsoft's brain—the rise of the satellite, the noted moment of the joining, the positions of the sister worlds, the flare activity of the sun. It was recorded and read back. Deepsoft lay very, very still. He was pleased. His measurements and the movement of air masses from the south confirmed the end of a sun circle. Now was a time of beginning, a time of renewed hope. He had seen beginnings. He never failed to anticipate each new one. Moreover, he never lost hope even when his measurements, and the readings of other Far Seers, were discouraging. He had traveled on the force of a Power Giver to the vast waters of the south. Hovering high above he had seen the sea of slime, the natural breeding ground of the Breathers. Once, he had actually measured an increase in the number of Breathers
—the record of it was stored in his Keeper's brain. But the green slime of the next sun circle was dense, causing their numbers to decline abruptly. In all the vast, murky seas there was only a tiny
