The Leaves of October Part 12

"I hate it. It won't let me see anything. And it won't let me reprogram it." Again she cranes her neck, looking into Nen's ship.

"Would you like to come inside for a little while?" he asks. "Just to look around?"

"Sure."

"Then come on." Nen stands and moves toward his ship; Doku slips one of her hands into his, and gestures at me with the other. "Come, Shalit."

I follow.

Inside the ship, I am lost. This is a place of plastic, metal and winking lights, a place of computers and viewscreens that project an unreal image of the stars. No Hlut can ever feel at home where there is no soil to anchor roots, no wind to carry the smells and sounds of the world. The stardrive field, even at minimum power, distorts the song of the Inner Voice that springs from my brothers and sisters beyond the stars. And Nen, who smiles so sweetly and smells so nice, is suddenly very menacing.

Doku is not afraid-or if she is, she hides her fear well. "This is a great ship!"

"You know...I could take you to see your daddy." Nen's offer, so like the courtesy of a Galactic Rider or the gentility of one plant to another in a large garden, is something altogether more sinister. Human society has its rules, and what Nen says is a transgression.

Doku pretends not to notice, and instead says, "My daddy doesn't want me there anyway."

"What makes you think that?"

"He said so to Mommy, on the ultrawave. They thought I couldn't hear. But she said she was sending me no matter what he wanted." She lowers her voice. "Mommy doesn't want me either. I get in her way too much."

"That's ridiculous. If I had a little girl like you, I wouldn't send her away." Nen glances at a display screen. "It's almost time for me to shove off. I guess I'll have to send you back to your robot."

Doku frowns. "I don't want to go. Take me with you."

This is the crucial moment. If Nen Basilus is not the man we are looking for, then he will put Doku off his ship. If he is....

Tension is thick in the enclosed air of the ship, and I almost choke on it. Then, slowly, Nen Basilus gives a small smile.

"If you want, Doku...if you really want...I can take you to a place where you'll be wanted. It's a secret place, and only kids can go there. Is that what you want'?"

"That's what I want."

"All right." He takes her hand and leads her toward a closed door. 'I'm going to have to put you to sleep, Doku. In hibernation."

"Like the old astronauts in the stories?"

"Exactly like that. And when you wake up, we'll be in that place I told you about."

She turns her head in my direction. "What about Shalit?"

For an instant Nen's mind projects turmoil; but he is trapped, just as Doku planned. "I'll put Shalit in hibernation with you. Is that okay?"

She turns wide eyes upon him. "Okay."

Soon, we sleep.

In hibernation, Shalit's metabolism is seven times slower than its waking rate. Animal consciousness cannot function so slowly, so Shalit sleeps. We Hlutr, who change the rate of our metabolism to suit our needs, have no such problems. As Shalit and Doku doze, I use Shalit's senses and my own mind to learn what I can of the ship.

A dozen other children lie around us in hibernation chambers; Nen Basilus has been busy this trip. Scattered visions escape from dreaming minds, discordant images of the simple hurts and quiet anger that drove them to Basilus's ship.

The trip is long and slow; nearly three Human tendays pa.s.s before we reach our ultimate destination. In the meantime, Nen makes three stops at Human settlements along the way. In the first, he picks up a pair of children from the docks the way he picked up Doku. The second is a large, rich complex of settlements circling a bloated gas giant - here Nen loads ten hibernating children like cargo while sour men and women watch, their minds burning with one single feeling: relief that they are rid of a problem. These Humans consign their Little Ones to Nen's care in much the same way as an animal voids itself of waste products, or a plant gratefully exudes noxious oxygen.

As Nen's ship slowly plies the great dusty gulfs of the Galaxy, I have time for pondering...and for what the Humans call research. Hlutr Elders do not have the limitations of Humans: even as I keep my attention firmly fixed in Shalit's sleeping mind, I am also on Escen and can talk with the robot who attends me. With its help, I examine Human records of missing children...and as I learn, the chill of s.p.a.ce touches my very soul.

On the final settlement we touch, five older children board gleefully, eyes burning with the intensity of happy expectation: they are setting forth on a holiday, with the blessings of their parents who watch with pride and a little sadness.

From my research, I know the end of their story: their children will not return, and as weeks become months and then years, pain will grow within these parental hearts, a killing pain that will never ebb. For animals, and especially for those who bear their young alive, there is no pain greater.

Doku dreams, and her slow visions are cloudy and filled with dread.

She dreams of childhood, and I see two little girls: Doku and another. They are Fenelia's age, or less. I draw dream knowledge from Doku's mind: this girl's name is Mari, and she has a new game. Mari's uncle plays this game with her, and when it's over he gives Mari things, toys and money.

So Doku plays the game too, in darkness and secrecy. And Doku gets money, too. She buys a new doll.

They play for a long time, Mari and Doku, several evenings each tenday over the course of a long summer. Doku likes Mari's uncle, he is a tall, strong man, and he doesn't treat the girls like children.

Then the game changes.

Doku thrashes in her sleep, and in her dream there is the memory of a sudden difference. All at once, without warning, the game hurts. And Doku doesn't want to play any more.

Mari laughs at her. Mari waves money at her, Mari shows off her new earrings and a bright red jacket that Uncle bought her. You're a fool, Doku, she says. Look what you're missing, if you don't play.

But it hurts.

Don't be such a baby.

Mari and her uncle continue to play, but Doku does not join in. She has had enough. Until the day she wants a new toy, and does not have the money to buy it. Her mother will not get it for her- so she agrees to the game.

She doesn't like the way Mari's uncle looks at her, she doesn't like the smell on his breath or the look in his eyes. But she needs the money, so she joins Mari.

Alone in her hibernation chamber, Doku cries out with remembered pain. This wasn't the way the game was supposed to go. He was holding her too tightly, he was squishing her with his heavy body, he was tearing her apart...no!

She twists, and bites, and Mari's uncle lets her go, laughing. You'll play with me, Mari, won't you? You're not a scaredy-cat like Doku?

Mari nods, and takes off her pretty red jacket. And she laughs.

Then, too soon, she cries out. But before Doku can help, before she can force herself to move against fear and pain, crimson mingles with red cloth, and Mari says nothing more....

I have seen too much; I sing a peaceful melody and Doku's mind calms. This nightmare which her conscious mind dares not face, has haunted her for a dozen Human years and more. Yet even as she settles into a more tranquil sleep, I see that her dream has no end.

Mari's uncle left the planet before he could be arrested, and in all the years since Doku had never found him again.

While we fly, I also keep special watch on Nen Basilus- through Shalit's slowed senses and through my own command of the Inner Voice. What drives this young man to go from place to place, stealing children? Where he is taking them we will know soon enough; for now I wonder only why.

Nen's mind does not tell me much; his thoughts are deeply buried and confused. Only once, while he sleeps and I lead his dreams in the direction I seek, do I get a glimpse of what Nen Basilus dreads: a strong, faceless man with great power...and the doom this man holds over the heads of a shy, aged couple whom Nen once called Mama and Papa. But even this vision has been thrust deeply into Nen's unconscious, buried and forgotten. A few Human months with Hlutr masters, and Nen might be healed. At the moment, nothing can be done for him.

And the mysterious figure who gives Nen his orders? Of him there is but a name: Avidore. Beyond that, not a glimpse, only a feeling of fear and the certainty of obedience.

Of Avidore, we will know soon enough.

As our ship emerges from tachyon phase into the shadow of a small cloud-shrouded world, I know our journey is at an end. I know from the reflections of Nen's emotions, but more, I know from the subtle swell of a soundless wail I have followed across s.p.a.ce...the cry of seventy thousand Little Ones...a cry of rage and despair so powerful that surely, I think, it must turn the faces of the very stars themselves.

Unbelieving, my mindsong reeling, I reach forth for the comforting music of my brothers and sisters. Now I receive the rudest shock of all. For this planet answers my timid song with nothing but silence. There are no Hlutr here.

I broaden my appeal, reaching out with all the power I can muster. From far away I hear answering songs: from Velladhen, from Etile-viedel, from the Human world Kag'jafr- but nearby, nothing. Nowhere within a hundred pa.r.s.ecs in any direction is there a trace of the Hlutr mind.

We round the planet as I ponder this problem, singing my question to my Elders on Escen. Through gaps in brilliant white cloud I see the blue of an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere; odd that this world does not know the touch of Hlutr roots and Hlutr song.

My Elders answer. Few are the worlds known to us which we Hlutr have not adopted. Terra, Metrin, Credix, Phuctra, Cambolinee, n.o.bedila, Ymfrex, Digant...but we know only one world that swims in a sea of s.p.a.ce which Hlutr spores have not crossed: a world both legend and nightmare. Karphos.

It was a Human world once, and because of its isolation, of great strategic importance to the Terran Empire. Karphos stood as way-station along the best trade route out of the Transgeled. When the Human empire dissolved in a series of ign.o.ble wars, it was inevitable that Karphos would be a target.

The battle lasted but half a day- brief for Humans, and far briefer for my folk. When it was over fire had scoured the face of the world, and Karphos hid from the stars beneath a cloak of soot and ash. For Humans and Hlutr alike, it was too late. Karphos settled into an age-long winter...but there were no survivors of either race to feel the chill.

Shalit's body moves, and my time-sense is suddenly distorted; Nen has ordered the hibernation chambers to begin waking their sleepers. By the time I can match my song to Shalit's thawing brain, the winds of Karphos are whistling against the ship's defense fields.

There are clouds and bright sunlight, then a panorama of green-jungles such as any Hlut would rejoice to see. Before I even begin to hear the life-song of this strange new world, a mountain bulks on the horizon...then we circle it once, and are down on a bright landing field.

Even as Shalit, Doku and the other children are stirring, Nen shuts off his ship's drive and Karphos's gravity hits, a quarter again of Escen's gentle pull. We have arrived at the place we seek.

May we survive to leave.

We fall.

This is terrifying to Shalit, whose people have lived for ages with complete control of gravity. It is slightly less frightening for Doku, and a positive delight to some of the other children, who shout with joy as we tumble downward. .

We land in a heap at the foot of the mountain. To the right is the jungle; to the left, a series of rough caves and some brick buildings. Further up the mountainside I see a metal wall, and beyond it streets, houses and taller buildings.

Doku picks herself up, sniffs and shakes her head. "Pyew!"

The air is rank with the smells of blood, waste and death. A Hlut is accustomed to these odors; they are part of the life of the forest. But Doku is disturbed, and Shalit's hackles rise.

"Where are we?"

One of the other girls knows an answer. Picking herself up, she tosses her head and says, "Didn't you listen? This is kid's land; We can do anything we want, and n.o.body can stop us." She dances giddily for a moment.

A small boy looks about nervously. "I don't like it here. I want to go home. When can we go home?"

The dancing girl waves a hand. "Silly. Have fun. When you want to go home, they'll take you."

"Who?"

She indicates the mountain, whose slopes are lost in low mist. "Go to the top. They'll take you home. Me, I'm going to explore." She starts toward the nearest buildings, then stops and regards the rest of us, daring. "Well? Anybody coming with me?"

One by one the other children follow, until Doku and I are left alone at jungle s edge.

"What do you think?" Doku asks quietly.

"I do not know." The distance is great and Shalit's mind, while sensitive to the Inner Voice, is befuddled by the fall, the smell, and the lingering effects of hibernation. Still, I sense the anguish of children around me. "I do not believe that the way home is as easy as she would have us believe. Otherwise more children would have returned."

"Maybe they have, and we just don't know it." She peers into the mist. "How many children would you say are in this settlement?"

I listen to the Inner Voice. "I hear them, Doku, but their cries are not subject to calculation in the Human style. There are too many."

"I agree." She shrugs. "Let's go take a look, eh?"

I keep close to Doku as we walk toward the nearest buildings.

The voices of children are audible before we enter.

The nearest structure is a mud-brick building huddled against the side of the mountain; Doku and I enter through a wide doorway. The heat, the sound and the smell are oppressive.

This is a slaughterhouse-half seventy children are at work in a large cave, while ten times that many beasts squeal and thrash, waiting their turn. Some of the children make a game of their work-all but naked, covered with blood, they jump and shout and sing as they strike with knives and axes.

Doku turns away and steadies herself with a hand on my back. "Mother Meletia," she swears, "this is awful."

I lead her out. Doku's folk, accustomed to food from synthesizers and growth tanks, find distasteful the sight and smell of natural food. We Hlutr, who absorb nutrition from the soil, the air and the sweet rain, find nothing disturbing about the practice of eating and the rituals that surround it. It is merely another curiosity of animal life.

Besides, this slaughterhouse is not the source of the Little Ones' cries. Those who labor here enjoy their work.

We pa.s.s other children, but they pay us no attention. Doku is a bit more interested in the hydroponic gardens, man seventies of square meters of green algae and other simple plants. Their song is plain but it refreshes me; I close Shalit's eyes and listen inside, listen to a billion happy voices crooning softly in sunlight.

A scream-raw, anguished-splits the afternoon and makes mockery of quiet vegetable song. I look at Doku and her face tells me that this scream was not just of the Inner Voice: she has heard it too.

"Come on," she urges, and we set off at a run.

My centuries with Humans have given me an understanding of their notions of distance, direction and other unfamiliar concepts; I am able to guide Doku toward the still-screaming Little One. We push past children crowded about a small cave, until Doku is face to face with the source of the psychic scream.

He is a tall lad, rather pudgy and dressed in tatters. His dirt-smudged face twists in alarm. When I touch his mind, I am amazed at his sensitivity to the Inner Voice. Not since the time of the great Human artist Chiriga Ho, six centuries ago, have I sung with a Human who could match him. Then 1 am drawn deeper into his thoughts, and I am saddened.

Sensitivity and talent are there; alas, the intellect is not.

This boy is a detective, born with a brain barely complex enough for Human speech When we can, the Hlutr help Humans like him to realize their potentials; when we cannot, we make their short lives happy with the music of the Inner Voice.

Two older boys are holding the lad, although he struggles to get free. Before Doku can say anything, they thrust him into the little stone house and slam a st.u.r.dy wooden door behind him. Laughing, they ignore his screams and his pounding, and throw a strong bolt.

Fear, shame, dark and alone-can they not hear the emotions he sends forth? Can they not set him free? The place they have thrown him is hot and stuffy, smelly and cramped There are worms, insects and worse. Children have died there, and their ghosts haunt the place yet. Can they have no pity?

Although Doku does not realize it, his screams are like those of her friend Mari.

"Let him go," Doku says.

Surprised, the bullies turn to her and one of them laughs. "You want to go in the Hole with him, maybe?"

"Let him out."

"Make me."