“They’re alive!” the incredulous boy cried.
“Yeah yeah, they’re still knocking around.”
Orion started crying, tears smearing the dirt on his cheeks.
“Friend Orion,” Tochee said, “I am pleased for you.” It reached out with a tentacle and touched Orion’s shoulder. Orion gave the manipulator flesh a quick grateful squeeze.
“Good news, man. The greatest.” Ozzie put his arm around the boy’s shoulders, hugging him. “I hope you’re right,” he said in a warning tone to Clouddancer.
The Silfen shrugged, ruffling his wings.
“When this is over, I’m going to set out again and find them,” Orion announced. “I know what I’m doing now. I can survive out here. I’ll get myself some decent equipment first, though.” He looked down at his feet. “And boots.”
“I’ll buy you the best,” Ozzie said. “Promise, man.”
The clearing had a covering of thick mossy grass. Strong sunlight from the overhead star shone down, dappling the edges. Ozzie slung his pack to the ground, and sat with his back against it. Orion was too excited to sit; he paced about, grinning every time he looked up at the vast sky.
Ozzie held his water bottle out to Clouddancer. “Drink?”
“Water? Shit, no. You got any decent booze?” The winged Silfen crouched on the spongy ground opposite Ozzie. His tongue flicked out with reptilian speed.
“I didn’t bring any. I figured I needed to stay sober for this.”
“Okay, good call. You want to start the twenty questions routine now?”
“Sure. I’ve earned that right.”
Clouddancer managed a very human-sounding snort without using his tongue.
“Did you put the barriers around the Dyson Pair?” Ozzie asked. This wasn’t quite how he’d envisaged the end to his journey, the historic moment of contact with the real Silfen. There was a certain daydream that had him in an ancient cathedrallike alien library, maybe an abandoned one, where he roamed the aisles, reactivating computers with huge banks of flashing lights. Now that would have been cool, rather than getting his ass damp on the grass while he chatted away to a demon as if they were a pair of old barflies. Yep, definitely didn’t see that coming.
“No, it wasn’t us,” Clouddancer said. “We don’t go around judging other species like that. We don’t have the ego some people in this universe have.”
Ozzie ignored the slight. “What do you mean: judge?”
“The barrier makers were a race younger than us, with a technological proficiency approaching us at our peak. The dickbrains believed that gave them responsibility. In that, they were very like humans.”
“So who were they?”
“We called their star Anomine—a short version of the true name, but accurate.”
“You’re speaking of them in the past tense.”
“So I am; glad someone’s paying attention. As they were then, they no longer exist. They were always faster, always hungry to advance. Again, just like you guys. They evolved from that stage and went off down a whole new route away from the directly physical; they fused with their machines, which in turn transcended. Not universally, mind you; some of them disagreed with the direction their techheads were headed. Those are the ones who still exist in their old physical form. Now they’ve calmed down some and rejected their technological culture and its outcome, they farm their original homeworld like regular folks, they rejoice in their young, they ignore the stars—though they welcome visitors from across the galaxy. I know you, Ozzie, I can see that hunger in you; you’d like them. We did.”
Just for an instant, Ozzie saw them, or at least their planet, the way to walk there. His mind had lulled itself into the pleasant warm reverie amid dreams and awakening. Ahead of him, a long road took him down many glittering paths like gold strands stretched between the stars.
Dream inside a dream. “Groovy,” he said contentedly. “So why the barriers?”
“The sentient species that evolved on Dyson Alpha lust after individual empires and dominance. Think of them as the ultimate self-obsessed power freaks. Real bastards, from your cultural perspective, I guess. In their basic state they would think nothing of obliterating every other life-form in the galaxy and beyond to guarantee their own immortality.
“When the Anomines found them, they were rapidly approaching the kind of technology level where they could have carried that particular mal-adapted evolutionary route across the galaxy at the point of a gun. So the Anomines, being the kind of bleeding heart liberals they were, decided to isolate them. They feared genocide would be committed if the Dysons were ever to reach another star system. Not exactly a difficult prediction, that one. Turns out they were right. The Dyson slower than light starships did reach a neighboring star while the Anomines were busy building the barrier generators. They all but wiped out its indigenous sentient species, enslaved the survivors, and absorbed their knowledge, exploiting it to further their own military strength. That is why barriers were established around two systems.”
“Ah ha!” Ozzie chortled delightedly. “Everyone was wondering about the motivation behind the barriers. Damnit, man, you’re right, I would have liked to have met the Anomines when they were at their height. Sort of like the old Greenpeace movement on Earth, but with teeth. They must have helped save a lot of species. Hell, we would probably have been in the front line by now.”
“So the Dyson people were, like, put in prison?” Orion asked.
“That’s right,” Clouddancer said. “They were in prison. The Anomines had hoped that if they couldn’t expand they would be forced to evolve away from their imperial mindset. For your information, they haven’t.”
“What do you mean, were?” Ozzie asked. The feelings of unease that accompanied those recent bad dreams of his suddenly came rushing to the front of his conscious thoughts. He closed his eyes.
“Well, guess what happened when somebody’s starship went poking around? The goddamn thing was packed full of scientists desperate to see what was inside. I mean, why you dumbasses see curiosity as one of your overriding virtues is anyone’s guess. Ever heard of caution?”
“Oh, shit. What did we do?”
“Your starship interfered with the barrier generator around the original Dyson world. The barrier fell.”
“I don’t believe it. You have to be wrong.”
“You calling me a liar? You want to make something of it?”
“There is no way humans would attempt to switch off a barrier. I know the way our governments work. They would have had to fill out eight million forms in triplicate and have the request reviewed by a hundred subcommittees before they were even allowed to read the generator’s instruction manual.”
“They disabled some of the generator functions. I don’t know how. We weren’t paying close attention, and we don’t go whizzing around the galaxy in fancy rocketships to find these things out. But it wasn’t an accident, no fucking way. Those generators should have lasted as long as the stars they closed off, probably longer.”
“What happened after the barrier fell?”
“The Dysons used knowledge captured from you to establish wormholes of their own. Twenty-three Commonwealth planets were invaded in the first stage of their expansion.”
“Son of a bitch!” Ozzie shouted. “Nigel, you total asshole, how stupid are you? I told you this space cadet crap was gonna wind up busting everyone’s balls. I goddamn told you!”
“Did they invade Silvergalde?” Orion asked fearfully.
“No, our world remains untouched.”
“And the rest?” Ozzie asked. He knew it was going to be bad, just needed it confirmed.
“The Commonwealth abandoned them. They suffered enormous ecological damage, and they are still subject to acts of violence between humans and Dysons.”
“Goddamnit. So the Anomines were right?”
“Yes.”
“Are they going to help?”
“Help what?”
“Humans. You said the generator was disabled. Can it be restarted? Can we push the Dysons back inside?”
“Haven’t you listened to a fucking thing I’ve been telling you? We don’t intervene. Never have, never will. And the technologically advanced Anomines are past the time when they interfere in the events of other species. Like us, they now let evolution flow where it may. If you want to restart the generator and shut the Dysons back inside the barrier, do it yourself.”
“You mean you’re just going to let the Dysons attack humans?”
“You’ve already seen the answer to that, Ozzie.” Clouddancer lifted his arms briefly, allowing the thick membrane of his wings to flutter in the gentle breeze. “The death of any species is to be regretted, but we have experienced many. I’ve embarked on pilgrimages to the memory of them myself, and I feel a great sorrow when I know them. We will remember you, should you fall.”
“Well, that makes me feel one whole hell of a lot better, thanks. For a minute there I thought our friendship meant nothing at all.”
Clouddancer peeled back his lips to expose all three rings of teeth. “This is an argument that we ended millennia ago. You let the Dysons out. You are responsible. This is macro-evolution at its worst. Watching it is always painful for us.”
“What about the Anomines, the advanced ones; can I appeal to them directly? Do any of the paths lead to them?”
“Not a path, no. We can talk to them when they wish it. That has not happened for over three centuries now. We thought the fall of their old barrier might stir them. But it hasn’t. We’re not even certain they exist in their primary transcendent state anymore. We have known species such as theirs which have kept on evolving into entities which simply cannot connect with those of us who remain rooted in the physical.”
“All right, instead of a few battalions of Silfen storm troopers, how about giving us information?” Ozzie asked. “Is there something, some weapon, you once built that could defeat the Dysons? Just the blueprints would do.”
“I’m kind of surprised that you of all people ask that, Ozzie. In fact, I’m quite hurt by the implication we’d ever waste our time on crap like weapons.”
“Oh, really? I’d be interested to hear what you say if your species ever gets threatened with extinction. Of course, you wouldn’t go alone. We’d help if you asked,
