Unfortunately, the Jophur battleship, Polkjhy, lay waiting just above, swooping in to launch a new form of attack. Emitting complex pulses on a hyperspatial resonance band, the enemy stroked a response from the strange atoms locked in Streaker’s outer shell, turning the throbbing layer into a huge antenna, drawing a flux of energy from D Space! As the Niss predicted, temperatures soon climbed. The deck plates warmed steadily, with no apparent way to slough the mounting heat.
Lacking any effective means to fight back, Streaker could not even tear free of Polkjhy’s grasping fields to dive back amid the mob of craggy arks, spiraling inexorably toward the white dwarf star. If the assault continued, the Earthlings would have to surrender … or else broil.
Then, abruptly, a Zang globule approached from the swarm, beaming a recognition code that set the herd of Jijoan glavers baying loudly in the hold. With evident frustration, the Polkjhy released its grip and backed away as “deputy” vessels budded off the giant Zang, moving toward Streaker.
Relieved, the Terrans rendezvoused with the rescuing globules.
“I guess it’s time to say good-bye to our little friends,” Gillian Baskin had said. The glavers were about to meet a destiny mapped out for them long ago.
Willingly, the small troop of quadrupeds clattered to the airlock, where Sara bid them farewell.
May this bring the redemption that your ancestors sought, when they came to Jijo. A strange, but honorable goal. To unite what had been distinct. To bridge the gap, helping oxygen and hydrogen meld as one.
At last she understood how both civilizations had been able to coexist for so long, despite a fractious antipathy during their youthful, starfaring phase. Because they were fated for each other, like preordained mates, who only discover affinity on their wedding eve.
Moreover, this union explained why the known cosmos was never overwhelmed by machines. United, the hydro-and oxy-orders were more than a match for silicon and metal, preventing digital sapience from taking over and exploiting every scrap of matter in all five linked galaxies.
It seems so tidy, so perfect — even romantic, in a way. Almost as if the universe were designed with this in mind.
Watching the glavers go — carried by translucent, glowing bubbles — she envied their clear-cut role. Their obvious importance. At that moment, they were Jijo’s great success, valued participants in something inarguably noble, contributing their wise simplicity to help bring about glorious fusion.
Streaker seemed emptier when they were gone.
Suessi reported failure. The material covering the hull proved impossible to scratch by any means at his disposal.
“Whoever gave Streaker this coating not only saved our lives, back at the Fractal World. They also made sure we must stay with this convoy, all the way to the bottom.”
With Polkjhy orbiting above, ready to pounce if Streaker tried leaving, there seemed no choice but to accompany the candidates’ armada, spiraling toward the great, javelin-shaped habitats. Akeakemai sighed a resigned Trinary haiku.
Emerson D’Anite laughed aloud, despite his crippled brain. But Sara had to consult her portable computer for a translation. Even so, she probably missed nuances of the quirky, intuition-based language.
Am I ready? To become transcendent?
Sara wondered what that meant, but all she could picture was an image of vast, cool intellects, in hybrid bodies stretched thin by tides, contemplating ornate wisdom that would make her beloved equations seem like the flagella flailings of some crude bacterium. Even if such beings found a way to incorporate humans and dolphins into their composite mind, she scarcely found the prospect attractive.
Anyway, this is probably just a trick played on us by the Old Ones — like reaming Emerson’s brain, or turning Hannes into a cyborg. A joke we’ll only get when we reach those glittering needles.
Accepting Suessi’s report, Dr. Baskin concentrated on practical matters.
“What physical threats do we face, as we approach the white dwarf?”
“There is strong ultraviolet radiation,” answered S’tat, one of Suessi’s engineers, from atop a walker unit at the far end of the conference table. “But our armor seems to handle it without t-trouble.”
“How about the intense gravity down there? Will our clocks slow?”
“Yessss. The field is intense enough to make a difference in the flow of t-time.” Akeakemai nodded, bubbles rising from his blowhole. “By lessss than one percent.”
Gillian nodded. “And the gravitational gradient?”
Sara had done the research.
“The tides are several orders bigger here than at the Fractal World. You’ll feel a tugging sense along the length of your body. I don’t expect them to be pleasant — though they say that older sapients find it irresistibly attractive.”
Gillian nodded.
“The famed Embrace of Tides. The more advanced a sophont species becomes, the more they crave it, and the less they can bear traveling where space is flat. That’s why we see little of transcendent life-forms. No wonder they’re considered a separate order.”
“Separate,” Suessi agreed. “But still ready to meddle in the affairs of younger races.”
Sara watched Gillian shrug, appearing to say — Why worry about things we can never change?
“So this is transcendence. Each uplifted species that survives starfaring adolescence eventually winds up in such a place. Both oxies and hydros. From across the linked galaxies, they converge at white dwarf stars in order to achieve … what? Niss, do you know?”
The spinning lines whirled, a maze of shifting patterns.
“Your question is the same one that obsesses theologians, back in the ‘adolescent’ culture we call home.
“Some believe transcendent beings find renewed youth in the Embrace of Tides.
“Others say the elders pass through a mystic portal, following the blessed Progenitors to a better realm. As you well know, minor differences over such details can rouse strong tempers among hot-blooded clans, such as the Soro, or Tandu—”
“Tell me about it!” Hannes muttered sourly. “Ifnicursed fanatics.”
“So it seems to you — and my Tymbrimi makers, and other moderate clans who feel the affairs of the Transcendent Order are rightfully none of our business. We will find out the truth, when our own turn comes.
“But need I remind you those fanatics’ you mention are powerful among the races who swarm flat spacetime in myriad starships? They wield great influence, and act more swiftly than the moderates. Their fleets presently lay siege to Terra, and have hounded this crew ever since we escaped the Shallow Cluster.”
Sara watched Gillian lean forward, her cheekbones stark in light from the whirling hologram. “You’re building up to some point. Get on with it.”
“My point is that this ship, Streaker, has suffered terrible persecution because it represents a danger and an affront to reverent tradition all across the Five Galaxies.
“The relics and data you carry appear to threaten deeply held creeds.”
“We already knew that much,” Gillian replied. “Can I assume you’ve finally figured out why?”
The Niss broadened its spiral of lines, spreading and almost brushing the blond human’s face.
“Indeed, I think that I have.
“It seems your discovery resurrects an ancient heresy that had been considered dead for millions of years.
“A heresy claiming that everything our civilization believes is wrong.”
