Now, in addition to worry about ET fanatics, he had to handle Creideiki's suspicions. It wouldn't be easy to put him off track. Metz appreciated genius when he saw it, especially in an uplifted dolphin.
If only he were one of mine, he thought of Creideiki. If only I could take credit for that one.
23 ::: Gillian
The ships lay in space like serried rows of scattered beads, dimly reflecting the faint glow of the Milky Way. The nearest stars were the dim reddish oldsters of a small globular cluster, patient and barren remnants from the first epoch of star formation — devoid of planets or metals.
Gillian contemplated the photograph, one of six that Streaker had innocently transmitted home from what had seemed an obscure and uninteresting gravitational tide pool, far off the beaten path.
An eerie, silent armada, unresponsive to their every query; the Earthlings hadn't known what to make of it. The fleet of ghost ships had no place in the ordered structure of the Five Galaxies.
How long had they gone unnoticed?
Gillian put the holo aside and picked up another. It showed a close-up of one of the giant derelict ships. Huge as a moon, pitted and ancient, it shimmered inside a faint lambence — a preservative field of unguessable properties. The aura had defied analysis. They could only tell that it was an intense probability field of unusual nature.
In attempting to dock with one ghost ship, at the outer reaches of the field, the crew of Streaker's gig somehow touched off a chain reaction. Brilliant lightning flashed between the ancient behemoth and the little scoutboat. Lieutenant Yachapa-Jean had reported that all the dolphins were experiencing intense visions and hallucinations. She tried to disengage, but in her disorientation she set off her stasis screens inside the strange field. The resultant explosion tore apart both the tiny Earthship and the giant derelict.
Gillian put down the photo and looked across the lab. Herbie still lay enmeshed in his web of stasis, a silhouette untold hundreds of million years — billions of years old.
After the disaster, Tom Orley had gone out all alone and brought the mysterious relic back in secret through one of Streaker's side locks.
A prize of great cost, Gillian thought as she contemplated the cadaver. We paid well for you, Herb. If only I could figure out what we bought.
Herb was an enigma worthy of concerted research by the great Institutes, not one solitary woman on a besieged starship far from home.
It was frustrating, but someone had to make this effort. Somebody had to try to understand why they had been turned into hunted animals. With Tom gone, and Creideiki busy keeping the ship and crew functioning, the task was hers. If she didn't do it, it wouldn't be done.
Slowly, she was learning a thing or two about Herbie… enough to confirm that the corpse was very old, that it had the skeletal structure of a planet-walker, and that the ship's micro-Library still claimed that nothing like it had ever existed.
She put her feet up onto the desk and pulled another photo from the stack. It clearly showed, through that shimmering probability field, a row of symbols etched into the side of a massive hull.
'Open Library,' she pronounced. Of the four holo screens on her desk, the one at the far left — with the rayed spiral glyph above it — came alight.
'Sargasso file symbols reference search. Open and display changes.'
A terse column of text displayed in response against the wall to Gillian's left. The listing was dismayingly brief.
'Sub-persona: Reference Librarian — query mode,' she said. The outline remained projected against the wall. Alongside it a swirling pattern coalesced into the rayed spiral design. A low, calm voice intoned, 'Reference Librarian mode, may I help you?'
'Is this all you've been able to come up with, regarding those symbols on the side of that derelict ship?'
'Affirmative,' the voice was cool. The inflections were correct, but no attempt had been made to disguise the fact that it came from a minimal persona, a small corner of the shipboard Library program.
'I have searched my records for correlates with these symbols. You are well aware, of course, that I am a very small micro-branch, and that symbols are endlessly mutable in time. The outline gives all possible references I have found within the parameters you set.'
Gillian looked at the short list. It was hard to believe. Though incredibly small compared with planetary or sector branches, the ship's Library contained the equivalent of all the books published on Earth until the late twenty-first century. Surely there had to be more correlates than this!
'Ifni!' she sighed. 'Something has got half the fanatics in the galaxy stirred up. Maybe it's that picture of Herbie we sent back. Maybe its these symbols. Which was it?'
'I am not equipped to speculate,' the program responded.
'The question was rhetorical, and not addressed to you anyway. I see you show a thirty percent correlation of five symbols with religious glyphs of the Abdicator' Alliance. Give me an overview of the Abdicators.'
The voice shifted tone. 'Cultural summary mode…'
'Abdicator is a term chosen from Anglic to represent one of the major philosophical groupings in Galactic society.
'The Abdicator belief dates from the fabled Tarseuh episode of the fifteenth aeon, approximately six hundred million years ago, a particularly violent time, when the Galactic Institutes barely survived the ambitions of three powerful patron lines (reference numbers 97AcF109t, 97AcG136t and 97AcG986s).
'Two of these species were amongst the most potent and aggressive military powers in the history of the five linked galaxies. The third species was responsible for the introduction of several new techniques of spacecraft design, including the now standard…'
The Library waxed into a highly technical discussion of hardware and manufacturing methods. Though interesting, it seemed hardly relevant. With her toe she touched the 'skim' button on her console, and the narration leaped ahead…
'… The conquerors assumed an appellation which might be translated as 'the Lions.' They managed to seize most of the transfer points and centers of power, and all the great Libraries. For twenty million years their grip appeared unassailable. The Lions engaged in unregulated population expansion and colonization, resulting in extinction of eight out of ten pre-client races in the Five Galaxies at the time.
'The Tarseuh helped bring about an end of this tyranny by summoning intervention by six ancient species previously thought to be extinct. These six joined forces with the Tarseuh in a successful counterattack by Galactic culture. Afterward, when the Institutes were re-established, the Tarseuh accompanied the mysterious defenders to an obscure oblivion…'
Gillian interrupted the flow of words.
'Where did the six species that helped the rebels come from? Did you say they had been extinct?'
The monitor voice returned. 'According to records of the time, they had been thought extinct. Do you want reference numbers?'
'No. Proceed.'
'Today most sophonts believe the six were racial remnants not yet finished stepping off into a later stage of evolution. Thus the six might not have been extinct per se, but merely grown almost unrecognizable. They were still capable of taking an interest in mundane affairs when matters became sufficiently severe. Do you wish me to refer you to articles on the natural passing modes of species?'
'No. Proceed. What do the Abdicators say took place?'
'Abdicators believe that there are certain ethereal races which deign to take physical form, from time to time, disguised in a seemingly normal pattern of uplift. These 'Great Ghosts' are raised up as pre-clients, pass through indenture, and go on to become leading seniors, without ever revealing their true nature. In emergencies, however, these super-species can quickly intervene directly in the affairs of mortals.
'The Progenitors are said to be the earliest, most aloof, and most powerful of these Great Ghosts.
'Naturally, this is profoundly different from the common Progenitor legend, that the Eldest departed the Home Galaxy long ago, promising to return some day…'
'Stop!' The Library fell silent at once. Gillian frowned as she thought about the phrase 'Naturally, this is profoundly different…
Bull! The Abdicator belief was just a variant of the same basic dogma, differing only slightly from other millennial legends of the 'return' of the Progenitors. The controversy reminded her of old-time religious conflicts on Earth, when adherents had performed frantic exegesis over the nature of trinity, or the number of angels that could dance on the head of a pin.
This particular frenzy over minor points of doctrine would be almost funny if the battle weren't going on right now, a few thousand kilometers overhead.
She jotted a reminder to try a cross-reference to the Hindu belief in the avatars of deities. The similarity to Abdicator tenets made her wonder why the Library hadn't made the connection, at least as an analogy.
Enough is enough.
'Niss!' she called.
The screen on the far right came alight. An abstract pattern of sparkling motes erupted into a sharply limited zone just above the screen.
'As you know, Gillian Baskin, it is preferable that the Library not know of my existence aboard this ship. I have taken the liberty of screening it so that it cannot observe our conversation. You wish to ask me something?'
