'Archetype symbols, you say…'
'What could be more symbolic, Dr. Baskin, than Streaker and her discoveries? Just one, the derelict fleet, has turned the Five Galaxies upside down. Now add the fact that the discovery was made by the newest of all client races, whose patrons are wolflings, claiming no patrons at all. Here on Kithrup, where no pre-sentient life was supposed to be able to arise, they find a ripe pre-sentient race and take great risks to protect the innocents from a Galactic civilization grown rigid and calcified…'
'Now just a…'
'Now add the Karrank%. In all of the recent epochs, no sapient race has been treated so foully, so abused by the system which was supposed to protect them.
'So what were the chances that this ship would happen to flee to the very planet that was their last refuge? Can you not see the overlying images, Dr. Baskin? From the Progenitors down to the very newest race, what one sees is a powerful sermon about the Uplift System.
'Whatever the outcome of your attempt to escape Kithrup, whether you succeed or fail, the stars cannot help but make a great song of your adventure. This song, I believe, will change more than you can imagine.' The voice of Niss finished, with a hushed, almost reverent tone. It's implication was left spinning in the silence.
Gillian stood on the sloping ceiling of the dark, lopsided room, blinking in the sparkling light cast by the swirling motes. The silence hung. Finally, she shook her head.
'Another damned Tymbrimi practical joke,' she sighed. 'A goddamn shaggy dog story. You've been pulling my leg.'
The motes spun silently for a long moment. 'Would it make you feel any better if I said I were, Dr. Baskin? And would it change what you have to do one bit if I said I weren't?'
She shrugged. 'I guess not. At least you pulled me back from my own troubles for a little while. I feel a bit lightheaded from all that philosophical crap, and maybe even ready to get some sleep.'
'I am always ready to be of service.'
Gillian smirked. 'Sure you are.' She climbed up on a packing crate to reach the door-plate but before opening the door she looked back up at the machine.
'Tell me one thing, Niss. Did you give Creideiki any of this bullshit you were feeding me just now?'
'Not in Anglic words, no. But we did cover most of the same themes.'
'And he believed you?'
'Yes. I believe he did. Frankly, I was a bit surprised. It was almost as if he had heard it all before, from another source.'
That explained part of the mystery of the captain's disappearance, then. And there was nothing that could be done about it now.
'Assuming he did believe you, just what does Creideiki think he's going to accomplish out there?'
The motes spun for a few seconds.
'I suppose, Dr. Baskin, he is first off looking for allies. On an entirely different level, I think he is out there trying to add a few choice stanzas to the legend.'
90 ::: Creideiki
They moaned. They had always been in pain. For aeons life had hurt them.
:Listen:
He called out in the language of the ancient gods, coaxing the Karrank% to answer him.
:Listen: You Deep, Hidden Ones — You Sad, Abused Ones : I Call From The Outside : I Crave an Audience :
The doleful singing paused. He felt a hint of irritation. It came in both sound and psi, a shrug to shake a bothersome flea away.
The song of lamentation resumed.
Creideiki kept at it, pushing, probing. He floated at the relay link Streaker had left behind, breathing from his sled's airdome, trying to get the attention of the ancient misanthropes, using the electrical buzz of a distant robot to amplify his faint message.
: I Call From The Outside : Seeking Aid : Your Ancient Tormentors Are Our Enemies Too :
That stretched the truth slightly, but not in essence. He hurried on, sculpting sound images as he felt their attention finally swing his way.
: We Are Your Brothers : Will You Help Us? :
The growling drone suddenly erupted. The psi portion felt angry and alien. The part that was sound grated like static. Without his apprenticeship in the Sea of Dreams, Creideiki felt certain he would have found it unfathomable.
+ DO NOT BOTHER US -
— DO NOT STAY ! WE +
+ HAVE NO BROTHERS -
— WE REJECT +
+ THE UNIVERSE -
— GO AWAY! +
Creideiki's head rang with the powerful dismissal. Still, the potency of the psi was encouraging.
What Streakers crew had needed all along was an ally, any ally. They had to have some help, at least a distraction, if Thomas Orley's clever plan of deception and disguise stood a chance of success. As alien and bitter as these underground creatures were, they had once been starfarers. Perhaps they would take some satisfaction in helping other victims of Galactic civilization.
He persisted.
: Look! : Listen! : Your World Is Surrounded By Gene-Meddlers : They Seek Us : And Small Ones Who Share This Planet With You : They Wish To Warp Us : As They Did You : They Will Invade Your Private Agony :
He crafted a sonic image of great fleets of ships, embellished with gaping jaws. He painted over them an impression of malicious intent.
His picture was shattered by a thundering response.
+ WE ARE NOT INVOLVED! -
Creideiki shook his head and concentrated.
: They May Seek You Out, As Well :
+ THEY HAVE NO USE FOR US! -
— IT IS YOU THEY SEEK! +
+ NOT US! -
The reply dazed him. Creideiki only had strength for one more question. He tried to ask what the Karrank% would do if they were attacked.
Before he finished, he was answered by a gnashing that could not be parsed even in the sense-glyphs of the ancient gods. It was more a roar of defiance than anything decipherable. Then, in an instant, the sound and mental echoes cut off. He was left there, drifting with his head ringing from their anger.
He had done his best. Now what?
With nothing better to do, he closed his eyes and meditated. He clicked out sonar spirals and wove the echoes of the surrounding ridges into patterns. His disappointment subsided as he sensed Nukapai take shape alongside him, her body a complex matting of his own sounds and those of the sea. She seemed to rub along his side and Creideiki thought he could almost feel her. He felt a brief sexual thrill.
: Not Nice People : she commented.
Creideiki smiled sadly.
: No, Not Nice : But They Hurt : I Would Not Bother Such Hermits But For The Need :
He sighed.
: The World-Song Seems To Say They Will Not Help :
Nukapai grinned at his pessimism. She changed tempo and whistled softly in an amused tone.
* Go below
And hear tomorrow's weather
* Go below
Prescience, prescience… *
Creideiki concentrated to understand her. Why did she speak Trinary, a language almost as difficult for him now as Anglic? There was another speech, subtle and powerful, that they could share now. Why did she remind him of his disability?
He shook his head, confused. Nukapai was a figment of his own mind… or at least she was limited to whatever sounds his own voice could create. So how was it she could talk in Trinary at all?
There were mysteries still. The deeper he went the more mysteries there seemed to be.