Deputies.
In their native environments, hydrogen-breathing entities did not tend to look outward for learning or fulfillment. If one huge beast encountered another, it might lead to combat, or predation — or peaceful intercourse — but little chance of permanent companionship. The vast winds of a Jovian sky soon scattered all acquaintances. A return visit or rendezvous was next to impossible.
Growth requires challenge, however. So, for conversation, appraisal, or understanding … they turned within.
Contained by spacious membranes, the core of a natural hydro-being was an oasis of calm amid planet-sized storms. Sheltered chambers could be fashioned at will, and small subunits budded to float freely for a while, engaging others in myriad ways. Like a human’s internal thoughts and fantasies, these deputies might cluster, converse or clash, working out countless scenarios for the good of the greater whole.
Simulations.
Lark glanced at the globule-creature floating just outside his membrane enclosure. It had seemed autonomous, but now he knew the hydro was a mere “deputy” of something larger still — perhaps the huge ship- entity that had sacrificed itself under withering Jophur fire in order to penetrate this place.
Lark abruptly recalled something he had read once, in a rare galacto-xenology text, about a type of hydro-life called Zang.
Their great passion is simulating the world … the universe … but not through math or computers. They do it by crafting living replicas, models, mimicries, inside their own bodies.
In an odd way, it seemed familiar.
Like the way we humans explore future possibilities with our imaginations.
But there was more.
Because we start life as little bags of water — as cells — we oxies must work our way from the ground up, by a complex, bootstrapping dance of competition and cooperation, building coalitions and societies, gradually becoming creatures capable of taking the process in hand, through Uplift. For all its faults, our galaxy-spanning civilization is the culmination of all that.
From many … one.
Hydros do it differently. They begin large, but loneliness forces them to subdivide, to seek diversity within.
From one … many.
The insight filled Lark with sudden heady pleasure. To behold both differences and similarities with an entirely different empire of life was a gift he had never imagined receiving. One beyond his ability to ask or anticipate.
He yearned to share it, to tell Ling everything, and hear her enthralled insights.…
Sadness was an abrupt flood, equal to the pleasure of moments before. Both emotions meshed and swirled, a mixture that poured into his veins, driven by his pounding heart. In moments it reached the tube in his leg, and then—
The tutor-entity floating nearby gave a sudden jerk. The globule quivered, as if contemplating the chemicals given off by Lark’s body during his epiphany, when everything became clear.
At least a hundred tiny vacuoles opened throughout its bulbous body. In each of these, a froth of nearly microscopic animalcules suddenly burst forth and interacted, frenetically merging, bouncing, and dividing. Lark stared, fascinated to watch a Zang “think” right in front of him. In practice, it was complex and blurringly fast.
The fizzing commotion ended as quickly as it had begun. All the little openings collapsed and the minuscule subdeputies resorbed into the main body. Lark’s tutor throbbed—
He felt another wave of stimulation penetrate his leg, a warm sensation that spread quickly through his guts and arteries — a form of communication so intimate that it transcended any thought of embarrassment. It simply was.
Appreciation.
At least that was how Lark interpreted the molecular wave — hoping that it was not wishful thinking.
Appreciation is welcome.
Appreciation is reciprocated.
• • •
A short time later, he lost consciousness. A sudden drowsiness told Lark that his hosts wanted him to sleep — and he did.
Awareness returned nearly as swiftly. He had no idea how much later it was, only that he had been moved.
No longer did a spacious chamber surround him, filled with other prisoners and visibly noxious fumes. Instead, his transparent cocoon had been transplanted to a much smaller room. And there were other changes, too.
The membranes surrounding him had shrunk to form-fit against his body, like a baggy suit of clothes. Lark found that he was standing up. Perhaps they had even walked him here, prompting his body to move like a marionette. The notion was unpleasant, but freedom to stretch out from a cramped fetal position more than made up for it.
He still could not breathe, and relied on the thigh catheter for life support, but Lark’s surroundings looked less hazy and there was not as great a sensation of nearby cold.
Carefully, tentatively, he shuffled his feet to turn around.
One of the Zang hovered nearby, though whether it was his erstwhile tutor he could not tell. Probably not. This one resembled the warrior-globule he had encountered in the halls of Polkjhy — the being that had burst through a wall, frightened Rann away, and rushed forward to take Lark captive. On close inspection, it was possible to see some of the adaptations necessary to shield hydrogen-breathing envoys against a caustic oxygen environment. Thick protective layers glistened, and it maintained a spherical form, ideal for minimizing exposure.
So, we’re both suited up. Girded to meet each other halfway. Except that I’m still anchored by an umbilicus, and you fellows can shut me off like a light, anytime you want.
Lark raised his eyes beyond the Zang, and saw a feature of the room that had escaped his notice till now.
A window … looking outside!
Careful not to trip, he shuffled close, eager to see the stars. It would be his first direct view of space since he and Ling were trapped aboard the Jophur vessel when it took off from Jijo.
But instead of strange constellations, his attention was riveted at once by something vastly more strange — an object, floating against blackness, that somewhat resembled a spiny hedge anemone you might find behind a rock in an alpine meadow back home. Except his impression this time was of incredible size. Somehow, he felt the prickly thing might be as large as Jijo … or bigger still.
Soon, he could tell one more thing. The dark object was damaged. Glimmering sparks could be seen, twinkling in dim reddish light that poured through a jagged opening, torn across one hemisphere.
Polkjhy appeared to be heading toward that gaping hole, at a very rapid clip.
Earlier, the Zang seemed to say they had not succeeded in taking over the ship. Maybe their resources are stretched too thin. From simulated charts, it appeared that the Jophur still command the engines, weapons, and life support.
Perhaps they are speeding to a place where they can get help ridding the ship of infestations like the Zang … and me.
Or else, maybe the Jophur think this is where they’ll find the “prey” Rann spoke of — the Earthship everyone’s been searching for.
Lark turned his head to regard the warrior-globule. Did it have a purpose in bringing him here, and showing him this scene? Perhaps the Zang had figured out that Lark was no friend of the Jophur. Maybe they wanted an alliance. If so, he would gladly comply … on one condition.
You must help me find and release Ling. Give us a lifeboat, or some other way out of here, either back to Jijo or someplace else safe.
