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WOOLLIES
PROLOGUE
Under the baking sun of a late winter morning, a small group armed with sharpened sticks and large flint flakes dug around brush and boulders on a shallow river valley slope. Their clan had eked out a marginal existence on roots, berries and seed pods for a dozen years since the Great Wrath when S'Alan'Drith melted stars and threw them upon earth and waters. When oceans rose high as mountains and fell upon vast lowland forests that had been their home and freezing darkness descended upon the world. After more than a month torrential rains at last stopped and Great Night ended, but scattered clans that survived faced a harsh new way of life on vast, open grasslands of the high interior plateau.
Several males, gathered near a large bush, tugged at a root. They were hot, filthy and nearly exhausted. Finally one, hands slipping on slick wood, sat hard on his rump. Others eased sore backs and assumed apprehensive expressions at the approach of a young, powerful alpha female. Rump-sitter scrambled to his feet. All quickly placed palms on knees and stared hard at the ground. S'Alith'nn, while Clan Mother remained alive, was still a Lesser Mother, but she had been named successor to Clan Mother and already carried the weight of her new rank.
"What's the matter?" she asked.
"It's... too tough, Mother," Rump-sitter quavered, "we keep... slipping...."
"For the love of goddesses, you're rushing things," S'Alith'nn said. "Just dig back a ways and cut through it."
She peered in to the hole where a heavy, branch-like root sported a bulbous tuber nearly as big as four fists. If they could find a half-dozen more, they could travel another couple of days before searching for food again. It was S'Alith'nn's idea to follow the setting sun to the edge of the great interior plateau in hopes of finding the lowlands once again green and hospitable. In dreams that tantalized her almost nightly, S'Alan'Drith, Goddess of fire stars, was no longer angry and, after all these weary years, and would let them return to their ancestral way of life. Now, with Clan Mother's illness, came her chance to follow the dream of nearly a lifetime.
She left them to their digging and made her way back up the slope, skirting several large boulders, to where Clan Mother lay on a litter in the shade of a B'Al'ob bush. Three other Lesser Mothers stepped back as S'Alith'nn approached, deferentially touching three fingers to eyebrows.
"How... how are they doing?" Clan Mother asked.
S'Alith'nn squatted next to her, gazing fondly at the wizened face. Despite age and illness, Clan Mother's eyes were bright and inquisitive.
"Is there much pain, Mother?" S'Alith'nn asked.
"No. No, not much. Are they finding anything?"
"One group has a Kk'an'thuh," S'Alith'nn said, "the rest are still searching."
"You... you'll have to leave me behind," Clan Mother said. "My mind's made up. When you move on, leave me."
"Mother, I can't," S'Alith'nn said, tears welling, "it's going to be alright, you'll see. You'll feel better in a few days."
"Look there," Clan Mother said, pointing into the clear blue sky. S'Alith'nn's gaze followed her shaking finger and her stomach sank. There, high in the vault, sweeping around in lazy circles, a Z'anpith kept them under eagle eyes.
"It's been there all morning," Clan Mother said, "It knows."
"All the more reason we can't leave you, Mother," S'Alith'nn said.
"All the more reason..."
At that moment an emaciated male, scrawny chest heaving from his sprint up slope, burst around the rock, skidding to a halt and slapping both hands to knees.
"Mother," he gasped, "y-your pardon... this... this unworthy..."
"Spit it out," S'Alith'nn said, not unkindly.
"K-K-Kel'Eths," the male blurted, hazarding an oblique glance at S'Alith'nn, whose bowels dissolved at the dreaded name.
Kel'Eths.
"Where?" she demanded.
Wordlessly, the male pointed back the way he'd come. Barely remembering to touch fingers to brow and receive the formal nod from Clan Mother, S'Alith'nn raced back to the tuber-diggers. Succulent root forgotten, they huddled in a tight clump, arms wrapped around one another. So great was their terror they didn't notice S'Alith'nn arrive and so great was her own that she didn't berate them.
"Where?" was all she asked.
Suddenly aware of her, they slapped hands to knees and bowed heads.
"Yes, yes, now where are they?" S'Alith'nn demanded.
One, trembling, pointed downslope to where a little river, flanked on either side by a belt of thick vegetation, ran through sun-scorched plains. S'Alith'nn shaded her eyes with one hand and rested the other on her heavy bronze sword, a gift from Clan Mother and symbol of her new authority.
"Where?" she asked again, an edge to her voice. With Clan Mother's impending death and the very real possibility that she would face a challenge from at least one of the other Lesser Mothers, no matter what Clan Mother's wishes had been, S'Alith'nn had enough trouble. She didn't need a bunch of air-headed males spooked at shadows. Normally not one to hand out beatings, she silently swore there'd be a host of sore ribs in the Clan for this foolery.
"H-honored Mother..."
"Alright, enough of this," S'Alith'nn said, "get back to work."
The words had hardly left her mouth before a silvery grey creature that looked like a miniature Z'an'pith swooped low overhead. In moments it was joined by a half dozen others, the flapping of membranous wings sounding like dead leaves blowing in the wind.
H'err'piths.
About the size of a vampire bat, the creatures were highly opportunistic scavengers not inclined to wait for a meal. They often acted as scouts, circling whatever they wanted dead until their hosts arrived to take care of that detail. Always associated with Kel'Eths, their presence meant only one thing.
Then her worst fears were realized as six long, black shapes sprang from shadows on the far side of the river.
Kel'Eths, huge back legs carrying them 15 feet in a single leap, bounded along the stream. Long, fang-laden snouts were carried close to the ground and progress was totally silent, save when they swerved through a clump of B'Alob to avoid a copse of Eh'nn'th'enn bordered by long-dead K'lamath. The sight of long, horrendous black shapes passing those trees jolted S'Alith'nn from momentary paralysis. She had been at that very point just a few hours before, at sunrise, supervising a work party as it gathered dead branches for their fire this night.
The dead straight course showed the dreadful beasts were on the trail and the clan was already cut off from its best refuge. Kel'Eths hated and shunned hairy Eh'nn'th'enn trees, as did any sensible creature. Other plants, including even the tough, ubiquitous H'enn'ba brush, couldn't survive around Eh'nn'th'enn. Err'th'tres'tuh had learned they could, with care, avoid Eh'nn'th'enn tendrils, which dissolved on contact to an oily, intensely irritating and sticky sap. Taking refuge in a grove of Eh'nn'th'enn was the best defense against Kel'Eths, and S'Alith nearly cried as the voracious pack cut them off from safety. Less than a minute would bring the creatures to the shallow bend the clan had traversed that morning. A single bound would clear it.
"Run!" S'Alith'nn screamed, grabbing the nearest male and hurling him upslope. "Goddesses! Run!"
She grabbed another male and threw him in the wake of his comrade. Godesses, the little brutes were so stupid. They'd stand there shrieking and hugging til Kel'Eths were on them. Drawing her sword, S'Alith'nn laid about her with the flat of the blade, raising puffs of dust from fur and clothing. That did it. They bolted, racing up the slope, stumbling and clambering over one another. They had no more brains than Z'anpiths, that was certain. S'Alith'nn waited til the last had passed, then went after them, smacking with the flat of her sword, cuffing ears, grabbing scruffs and hurling them onward. Her breath was short and her chest burned, but she kept working. The Clan was so small. It couldn't afford to lose the lowest, meanest male.
She rounded the large boulder to find Lesser Mothers grouped around Clan Mother, fur standing on necks in crests, nervous hands gripping spears so tightly they trembled. Several had already laid scent, cloying and rich on crisp morning air.
"You! You!" S'Alith'nn cried, pointing with her sword to the two largest, "pick up Mother! Get moving! Kel'Eths!"
Two dropped weapons and bent to pick up the handles of the litter. Their prompt obedience would have been gratifying to S'Alith'nn under other circumstances, but now she was aware only of a growing panic that threatened to rob her of reason and send her in headlong flight with the foolish, weak males. One of the Lesser Mothers did exactly that, dropping her spear and screaming in terror as she bolted. The males, seeing a Lesser Mother panic, redoubled their own efforts, clawing their way over one another, leaving several youngsters and an old male trampled and moaning on the ground.
"Ow!"
The sharp exclamation of pain brought S'Alith'nn's attention back to Clan Mother, who had just rapped a Lesser Mother's knuckles with a stout Ti'ah'ba switch.
"Leave me, you fools!" Clan Mother snarled, snapping the switch again.
"Mother..." S'Alith'nn began.
"Was I wrong about you?" Clan Mother cried, eyes bright with pain and fear, "Get these idiots moving! Get out of here!"
"You two get going," S'Alith'nn ordered, seeing in the instant that Clan Mother was right. They had precious little chance of outrunning Kel'Eths, and none at all if burdened by a litter. Faces showing relief, they took off up the slope at a dead run.
"I'll stand by you, Mother," she added, turning downslope, sword in a two-handed fighting grip.
She took her opening stance, toes curling as though grasping branches in her ancestral home, and took deep, even breaths to still her mind. There could be no doubt of the outcome, but she would sell her life dearly.
Her concentration shattered as something caught her between the shoulder blades, nearly knocking breath from her body. She spun to face Clan Mother, who had managed to get to her feet and was drawing the branch back for another swing.
"Mother," S'Alith'nn said in wonderment at seeing her on her feet after all these days, "I..."
"Get gone!" Clan Mother snarled, "they need you, you fool, not me! I'm done. Clan needs your bones alive, not in a pile of Kel'Eth shit! Go!"
She was right, S'Alith'nn realized. She was no match for a single Kel'Eth, never mind a half dozen. She wouldn't save Clan Mother this way and she wouldn't save herself. Reluctantly, she sheathed her sword. Then, overcome by emotion, she placed palms on knees and lowered her gaze. It was the ultimate obeisance, almost never shown by a female. Clan Mother's eyes filled with tears.
"Go on, quickly," she said, gently pushing S'Alith'nn away. "I was right about you, little one. You're the one to lead. Go quickly and save yourself. Do it."
Her own eyes full of tears, S'Alith'nn took a deep, shuddering breath, squeezed Clan Mother's bony shoulder, then took off up the slope, passing the injured male and youngsters. On the dead run, she grabbed the two smallest and tucked them under her arms. Over her shoulder she saw deadly black shapes bound around the big boulder. Clan Mother, standing straight and tall, disappeared in a welter of fur and scaly tails. Bright red blood misted in morning sun and Clan Mother's head bounded across the ground. In an instant a Kel'Eth was on it, snatching it with ridiculously tiny forelimbs. An instant later powerful jaws closed and the skull popped like an overripe Q'uarth, spraying blood and bits of brain matter. The horrid sight fascinated S'Alith'nn and she caught her toes on a sharp rock, barely noticing pain but stumbling and nearly going down. The two youngsters, male and female, whimpered and their helpless terror gave her new strength.
Kel'Eths, leaving only glistening red bones and splatters of blood, bounded to the remaining injured youngsters and the old male. He shrieked as two black shapes landed on either side and curled into a furry ball in a desperate and hopeless attempt to protect himself. Kel'Eths slammed heads together as they simultaneously went for the killing bite. Knocked half senseless, they fell backwards in confusion. For the hapless old male, the respite was only momentary, for a third Kel'Eth bounded in and pinned him to the ground, ripping intestines out with a single slash of yellowed, razor fangs. The two who had been momentarily stunned recovered and joined in the feeding frenzy as the other three swept past to take care of the youngsters. It was over in an instant and the Kel'Eth pack was noisily feeding on those the Clan had left behind. H'err'piths flitted in with high-pitched, piping screams, ripped strips of glistening flesh and flashed away, gulping as they flew.
S'Alith'nn, still holding the two youngsters under her arms and screaming at the rest of the Clan, knew their period of grace would be as short-lived as they'd be if she didn't think of something. Kel'Eths were ferocious, tenacious and voracious feeders. They'd finish up the dead in a few minutes and be back to the hunt. At the top of the slope panicked clan members entered a steep defile that led between rocky ridges and dropped away to a canyon. Far below the little river became a raging torrent as it passed between sheer rock walls. The ground grew ever steeper and S'Alith'nn could see they were entering a trap. Soon they would be unable to go ahead with any speed and Kel'Eths would close in.
It could easily have been the end, but Clan Mother had chosen her successor wisely. S'Alith'nn had nerves of steel, a cool head, and tenaciousness to rival the most stubborn Kel'Eth. As she stumbled, all but exhausted, exhorting the clan and every so often cuffing a laggard, an icy corner of her mind continued to work.
There had to be a way out of this.
Suddenly it was as though Ahn'the'ah'n'drith, Goddess of Mountains, had placed the solution in her path. Bold, audacious, daring and incredibly dangerous, but one that offered the beleaguered clan a ray of hope. Ahead lay a gap of some eight feet between a massive rock outcropping and a 100-foot drop into the cauldron. The natural funnel would momentarily collect pursuing Kel'Eths in a nice, tight grouping. On their right as they approached was a steep, boulder-strewn slope, and this was what held out promise to S'Alith'nn. Quickly she issued instructions to two of the three Lesser Mothers to get the clan past the outcropping, keep most of the males running along the valley side and to lay as much scent as they could. She detached the remaining Lesser Mother, the coward, and four of the largest males. Leading the new party, she began a desperate scramble up the cliff. Her only hope was to make it to the slopes above with time to spare before Kel'Eths resumed pursuit.
Once on the slope, she selected a large boulder that looked ready to roll and capable of taking with it a great deal of rock downslope. She ordered her little troop behind the boulder and hid herself where she could watch their back trail.
"Remember," she instructed the Lesser Mother, "we get one chance. When you see me nod, you get your shoulders into it. That rock has to go, and right away, understand?'
S'Ulth nodded, eyes still showing terror. S'Alith'nn considered changing places with her, but she didn't trust S'Ulth to make the call. The timing had to be perfect. Too soon and the slide would come thundering down ahead of the Kel'Eths. Perhaps even make it easier for them to bound up the cliff and kill all of them before going after the rest of the clan. Too late and Kel'Eths would already be through the gap and the rest of the Clan would be doomed. It was a terrible, one-time decision.
She crouched in scrub brush clinging to the steep sides of the ravine, listening to the drone of insects, smelling the acrid scent of her own terror and fighting an almost overpowering urge to bolt. The sun was almost directly overhead and she arranged her cowl to shade her eyes as best she could. It was so hot on her shoulders through the coarse weave of her cloak.
"Mother," S'Ulth said,"they're stuck. Look!"
S'Alith'nn risked a glance over her shoulder and nearly cried with frustration. The rest of the Clan had gotten only a few hundred yards. The slope had run out, leaving them huddled against sheer cliffs that fell into boiling white water below. There was a way down on the far side, but they would have to retrace their steps to find a way across the canyon. Perhaps, if the ambush went wrong and the Kel'Eths came up after them, the rest could slip past while the beasts were feeding. She weighed the odds. It would be a safer play. She could deliberately order the slide set in motion too early, then spring to her feet so the Kel'Eths would be certain to see her. But would the Lesser Mothers take the risk of trying to slip past? Could they force weak and frightened males to take the chance?
If they did get by, could they make it to the Eh'nn'th'enn?
At that moment she saw sinuous black shapes bounding along their back trail. The elder's sacrifice had not delayed them more than a few minutes. Even in that terrible instant, S'Alith'nn realized that she was really and truly Clan Mother. The old one who had nurtured her through childhood and adolescence, shaped her and trained her to take over the clan one day, was now an Ancestor.
An icy calm took over as she watched death race towards her. The others, crouched behind the boulder, could see nothing. She waited, watching the Kel'Eths bound silently along, clearing four- and six-foot rocks with a terrible, effortless grace.
"Be ready!" she hissed.
Now they were so close she could see glittering black eyes and glistening scarlet of fresh blood on muzzles. Hind feet, scimitar claws retracted, made soft pa-dat sounds on stony ground and they moved with a grace and singleness of purpose that was both awesome and terrible. It was a sight that would stay with S'Alith'nn the rest of her life.
Goddesses, they were so fast!
Pa-dat... pa-dat....
One chance, and one chance only. S'Alith'nn's mind was suddenly made up. No sacrifice. It would be all or nothing.
100 yards and closing fast. The lead Kel'Eth cleared a four-foot rock, scarcely disturbing coarse grass on the slope as its great hind legs absorbed landing shock. The rest flowed over and around the rock like an evil, tarry river.
"Now!" S'Alith'nn screamed, "Now!"
"Now!" S'Ulth shrieked, throwing herself into the boulder. Males strained in sudden desperation and the boulder rolled. For a moment it seemed to be moving in slow motion and S'Alith'nn nearly cried out with terror.
It wasn't going to work!
Then she saw that it was. The boulder was falling far faster than she had first thought. In an instant the rock slide was underway. Kel'Eths tried to put on brakes, but they were traveling well in excess of 40 miles per hour. In an instant they were gone in a cloud of rock and dust. S'Alith'nn and her little band stood rooted, staring desperately as dust slowly drifted off. The only Kel'Eth who had escaped being buried came into sight, shiny black fur matted with blood, gleaming, shattered ribs poking from its side. It crawled with tiny forelimbs, dragging unresponsive hind legs, snapping fitfully at its own bone shards and screeching in shock and agony. S'Alith'nn, drawing her sword, sprang down the slope in a fierce exultation. She'd done it! Here and there tails and paws protruded from the rock rubble, twitching feebly. One long-snouted, razor-fanged head lay in a pool of blood on the trail, neck pulped and eyes glazed in death. The mortally injured Kel'Eth was too preoccupied with injuries to see her coming and she brought the heavy blade whistling down on its skull. Grey brain matter sprayed and evil black eyes went instantly glassy as they popped half out of her victim's head and a bloody tongue shot out like a switchblade.
It was over. As S'Alith'nn stood staring in wonderment at what she had wrought, the rest of the clan gathered around her. Blood-soaked and flushed with triumph, she looked at her followers. Males promptly put hands to knees and bowed heads and, after a moment's hesitation, the three females touched brows deferentially.
S'Alith'nn's vision swam with tears. This was her moment. She was now undisputed Clan Mother and would be to the day of her death. No longer would her name carry the diminutive S'eth (Lesser). Now she was simply Alith'nn.
Overcome with emotion, she ordered the males to butcher whatever they could retrieve of the dead Kell'Eths then, waving other females away, climbed to ridge top, from where she could see the ocean, a thin blue line on the horizon at the end of a vast, fertile valley. A walk of barely a half day would bring the clan out of rolling hills and on to lowlands. Afternoon shadows were long when she became aware it was s'tan'd'uth'runn - the hour of the eye. Jevon's smaller moon, passing in front of the larger, formed a giant, baleful eye in the heavens. When she realized it, the little moon had moved to the far side, so the eye appeared to be gazing down on something near the ocean. It was a stretch even for her incredibly sharp eyes but, by squinting and shading with her hands, she was at last able to make out a large island in the river mouth.
"Thank you," she muttered. "Thank you Ahn'the'ah'n'drith for delivering us and thank you S'tan'd'uth'un'drith (Goddess of the moons) for showing the way."
Back with her clan, she was met by S'Ulth, the one most likely to become her second in command. S'Ulth's salute filled her eyes with tears again.
"I guess we can head back," S'Ulth said deferentially, "the hill looked pretty good for roots. Before we were so rudely interrupted."
Other Lesser Mothers chuckled appreciatively. Several males suppressed grins and the ones who had helped with the boulder even dared smile openly.
"We're not going back," Alith'nn said.
The entire clan gaped. So great was the shock of her blunt announcement that the rules of deportment were momentarily suspended. Males actually dared meet her gaze. Alith'nn stared at them, eyes blazing, and they promptly took to staring at their feet.
It was time to share her vision. In a strange way she had the Kel'Eths to thank for it. For now she at last held unquestioned authority. Nobody would dare oppose her and the dream she'd held since adolescence could at last be a reality.
"We're going down there," she said, pointing down the canyon. "We're going home."
It was as though a shadow swept across the setting sun. Several clan members gasped and the Lesser Mothers looked troubled.
"Mother, S'Alan'Drith..." S'Ulth muttered. As heir apparent to Alith'nn's position as second in command, she had become de facto speaker for the other Lesser Mothers.
"It's 12 years since S'Alan'Drith threw down the stars," Alith'nn said. "She's satisfied. We can go back to the lowlands. We can stop wandering."
Setting males to butchering Kel'Eths and gathering roots, Alith'nn took the three Lesser Mothers to her vantage point on the ridge. In gathering twilight the broad river delta opened out before them, flat and fertile all the way to the ocean glowing blood red in the distance as Rho Coronae sank from sight. The small river they had been following dropped to the fertile valley floor in a series of waterfalls and eventually joined a much larger river. Near the ocean, the river divided into two branches and flowed around her island, a large, rocky outcropping covered with low brush and small trees.
"There," Alith'nn said, pointing. "We'll build a raft and go down to that island. That will be our home. S'tan'd'uth'un'drith has given me a sign."
"But Mother," S'Luth said dubiously, "there are no Ti'ah'ba on the island. Where will our platforms go?"
The others nodded. Without the flat-topped Ti'ah'ba trees, they would have nothing to support their platforms and without stable platforms, a return to their ancestral way of life was impossible.
"We'll build our trees of stones," Alith'nn said. "It'll be good enough."
This had been her driving passion, ever since she had been old enough to realize that S'Alan'Drith had departed. The stars had rained from the heavens; fires, floods pestilence and famine had stalked the lands, but now punishment was over and chastened survivors were free to return to their beloved lowlands. The vast Ti'ah'ba forests that had sustained them were reduced to a few scattered oases of slow-growing, juvenile trees, but they could find other ways to build platforms.
"That will be our home," Alith'nn said, "we'll call it Ah'n'thee'ah."
It was fitting to name the new platform Ah'n'thee'ah, after the Goddess of the mountains who had delivered them from Kel'Eths.
"Go make sure they're working," Alith'nn said with a wave of her hand. Lesser Mothers, touching forefingers to brows, trooped off to supervise the work parties. Alith'nn stood for a long time, gazing at the hilly, rocky island. It was perfect, as though Toth, Goddess of rivers, had conspired with Ah'n'thee'ah to place it there just for her.
Alith'nn walked back to where the males, covered in blood, were busy hacking Kel'Eths into joints, ribs and great slabs of belly meat. Cooked and packed in precious salt, it would help sustain them until they established themselves on the island and began to hunt and gather. The males, spotting her, leapt to their feet and slapped bloody hands to their knees. She waved them back to work.
On that island, her clan would flourish and grow strong. One day, where now there were just rocks and bush, there would stand a huge, stone forest and her platform would cover the land. She would call her clan T'Sen'i - The Victors.
The long journey home was nearing its end.
Though her species had yet to develop a calendar, she knew it was some 12 Jevon years since the Great Flood and Long Winter.
For another species on a blue and green planet some 50 light years away, the date was July 1, 2154.
ON THE ROAD TO RHO
Greenweb Emigration Facility
Cape Canaveral, Florida
July 1, 2154
Collum Fraser MacNulty, huddled in a motorized wheelchair flanked by bright, perky teenaged girls in starched white uniforms complete with Greenweb insignia, arrived at the Nursery shortly before noon. There was no air conditioning in this part of the huge converted hangar but despite searing heat, a thick robe and thermal blanket, freezing cold went right to his bones. In all his 26 years he had never been so miserable.
But not so he couldn't notice the startling change in decor as soon as he left the public area with its muted and expensive lighting, deep carpeting, genuine wood wall paneling, oak furnishings and real paintings. Only two weeks earlier Greenweb had finally admitted tabloid reports were true - massive cost-cutting had left the business end of things looking like a Bronx slum.
A long scratch ran along fabric wall covering. Threadbare carpeting sported sporadic holes and heavy duct tape held seams. Torn patches and faded rectangles marked where pictures had once hung. But, as recent Greenweb commercials had pointed out in the wake of the NA Prober's muck-raking series, this was an emigration facility, not a resort. After all, if you or your loved ones were on the Road to Rho, where would you want money spent?
Doors hesitated part way open with a grinding hum of hidden machinery.
"I thought they were going to fix that," one acolyte muttered.
"My sister's on the Road to Rho, so I'm glad we're not wasting money here," the other said chirpily. With a sunny smile for Collum, she gave the doors a healthy smack with her open hand. Machinery still grinding, they grudgingly opened and Collum found himself facing another pair of perky acolytes behind a cheap trestle table rescued from some high school prom.
None of the assistants was really necessary, the wheelchair had enough intelligence to take him from Final Prep to the Nursery. But it was considered good for morale if colonists had human contact during transition from Med Prep to Out.
There were no windows, just Holos showing quiet forest glades and still ponds -- a tribute to the genius of twenty second century artists rather than Mother Nature -- but he knew that a mile away across boiling flatlands a huge matte-black heavy lift vehicle, looking like an ancient milk bottle, waited to take him on the first step of his one-way journey to Rho Coronae Borealis.
From an alcove an official, life-sized Holo of Greenweb's founder somberly looked on, as though assessing fitness to participate in humanity's greatest adventure. The Holo had been taken only months before Joe Green's death, and Collum could never look at it without feeling inadequate.
"Hi, Tulip" one of his keepers said brightly, "This is Collum MacNulty of New Denver township."
"Wonderful, Fern," came the cheerful response through two rows of perfectly-aligned teeth. Brightness-enhanced eyes shone and a proprietary smile became almost dazzling.
Had she been momentarily taken aback? That stupid double take from politically correct morons just dying to know why he was so fucking short?
"Just look into Claus' eye for retinal verification, Mr. MacNulty."
"Claus?" he mumbled with an icy, sluggish tongue.
"Oh, it's a joke," Fern said cheerfully, "this is the Santa Maria, right? So, we call the net Santa Claus, or just Claus for short."
The others giggled cheerfully and looked at Collum expectantly.
"L-let's just get this over," Collum said, shivering and looking into the tiny, glittering black lens. In a fraction of a second his retinal pattern was scanned, identity confirmed, and he was logged in. The young women looked disappointed. But it was impossible to appreciate insider jokes when he kept wanting to break into fits of shuddering. If he once started that, he wouldn't be able to stop. This place wasn't really the Santa Maria, anyhow. Santa Maria hung in the sky, a hundred miles away, its only presence here the neural net connection. He would never be aware of reaching the ship that would carry him to the stars.
This night he would not even see sunset.
"Okay, that does it," Fern said, cheerfulness slipping not an iota, "we'll be leaving you here, Mr. MacNulty. Chair knows where to take you."
Chair knows where to take you.
He might have said something rude if he hadn't been freezing to death.
In the microsecond it had taken for the ship's neural net to register and confirm Collum, his chair had received electronic queuing instructions. As attendants turned away with a chorus of "have a good trip, Mr. MacNulty", it silently rolled towards an old gymnasium converted to an immense waiting room.
Have a good trip, Mr. MacNulty. Have a good one-way trip.
More than three hundred chairs, each bearing a huddled, shivering figure, were arranged in rows facing away from large green doors. The place was curiously hushed. Where you would expect to hear a constant din of conversation, there was only a whisper of air conditioning, muted voices of attendants and the slip-slapping of sandals on worn plastic flooring. They wore white lab coats and pleasant, relaxed smiles. And they weren't freezing.
"Fellow colonists," a sultry woman's voice floated from a huge Holo on the far wall, "New Rio boarding is complete. Now boarding New Canberra."
The Iowa corn-fed, healthy, perfect-human visage of Guenevere Greenweb, a computer-generated simulacra developed by Greenweb as one of its official "universal colonists" (the other was a robust, dark-haired example of male perfection named Gus Greenweb), faded to the Joe Green Holo. Kindly, dark eyes seemed to stare right into Collum's soul and he couldn't look at it.
At the start of this great voyage, instead of metaphorically striding steely-eyed towards Joe Green's dream amongst the stars, he trembled from more than just cold. His was the fear of the condemned entering the fatal holding cell. He was far too stiff and cold to look at the green doors, but he heard swishing as chair after chair rolled through. At least those seemed to work.
Here and there, people exchanged nervous glances. For the residents of New Canberra Township, the moment of truth was at hand. This was their last conscious stop en route to the stars and last chance to back out.
As Collum's chair came to a stop, his attention was caught by a man and woman with three young children across from him in the next row. The man was shaking his head miserably. The woman, between bouts of almost uncontrollable shivering, entreated in a low voice. Her mate, shivering just as much, kept shaking his head. Collum, who could not hear what they were saying, drew his blanket more tightly around him.
His hands were stiff and he was getting even colder.
Shivering turned to shuddering and his elbow struck that of a huddled figure in the next chair, bringing a muffled exclamation from under a thermal blanket.
"G-god," he managed, turning slowly, "I'm s-s-sorry."
A woman's trembling fingers emerged and pulled the blanket away. Collum realized, with a shock, that he knew her. Shenandoah April Hendry-Brighton. A classmate, at least in some of his classes, alternate on his Kendo team and a friend of his former live-in girlfriend.
Anything but a friend of his.
"W-what are you doing here?" Shen managed through quivering blue lips.
"What do you th-think?" Collum said.
"I thought... Cecilia didn't want to come."
"Not... with her. Sh-she's staying b-back. We bro...ke up."
"Oh, great." Shen's shivering grew worse. "So wh-what is this? The French for... for... eign legion?"
"I was already on the list," Collum managed. "Sh-she didn't want to come, and I... I did."
"That's t-too bad. I h-hope you're not... not in my damn township. Where... where are you?"
"None... none of your bus... business. New Den... Denver."
"Good. I'm in New... New York," Shen managed before her attention was caught by motion near the other end of the line. A small group of white-coated assistants came up the aisle and, despite the fact that New Canberra rather than New New York was now loading, she stole an apprehensive look at Collum. His stomach sank as well and, in the instant, he felt almost close to Shen.
What if they were playing head games? Trying to make it easy by telling people New Canberra was loading when it was some other township? It could be his turn any time.
Attendants stopped at the little family. They spoke quietly, but Collum caught the name "Jorgensen". The shuddering man looked up with a ghastly expression and shook his head. One of the attendants, armed with a sensor pad, leaned down and whispered earnestly. Shame-faced, the man again shook his head. His wife grasped his arm, saying something to him in Norwegian. He shuddered and shook his head violently. Sensor Pad reached down with a small, pen-like device and touched a pad on the arm of the man's chair. Greenweb press releases had promised total hands-on during this critical phase and that extended to physically pressing pads rather than directing through Psy-links.
Jorgensen's chair silently left the line, rolled to the door and stopped. Sensor Pad spoke quietly to the young woman. She looked at her husband, then at the other end of the gym where wide green doors beckoned. At last, helplessly, she shook her head. A touch on her chair and it moved after her husband's. Three chairs carrying children fell into line like a flock of ducklings and all five rolled silently out main doors.
What would happen to them? Back on stringent rations in teeming multitudes, would Jorgensen hate himself for his lack of nerve? Would his wife manage to convince herself the mission was doomed to fail? Or would she come to hate her husband for cowardice that denied their dream? Would their children hate them as they grew up with knowledge of what might have been?
Collum was sinking steadily deeper in misery when Shen lethargically nudged him and nodded towards a rotund, scholarly-looking black sitting one row over and about 20 feet away. The man was accompanied by a tall, slim, middle-aged blonde woman with a patrician air, who refused to huddle. The man was shivering, but had one meaty arm around the woman's shoulders and was mumbling something. Collum instantly recognized Rowan Martin M'Kele-Anjou, the world's most famous Virtuals producer. Although the woman had stayed mostly in the shadow of the great man, Collum had read enough Inner Hollywood gossip to know this was heiress Georgiana Coles M'Kele-Anjou, wife, confidante and constant companion. He had been a child when Georgiana Coles left her playboy husband for the portly Virtie mogul, but he could still remember the scandal.
"Incredible," Shen said. "I h-heard he was come... coming, but I just didn't b-b-believe it."
"Heard... heard that, too. Big... big deal."
"What do you mean?"
"B... big deal. He's just a col... colonist now. Like us... us little people. I'm not impressed with c-celebs."
"Speak... speak for yourself... you Nap... Napoleonic twerp." Shen said.
Collum didn't know whether to be more stung by the slight on his five foot two physique, or the suggestion he had a problem with it. It reminded him what an unpleasant piece of business Hendry-Brighton could be. Thank god there would be lots of room for avoiding her where they were going.
Shen was still staring at the famous man and Collum was trying to huddle even deeper in his blanket when sudden commotion drew their attention. A throng of newsmen burst through the main doors and spread out in a gauntlet. Something really important was happening. A moment later a young and beautiful Eurasian woman strode in, newsmen flowing behind like quicksand.
"Omigod," Collum heard Shen breathe.
Even Collum couldn't help but be impressed, for he recognized her at once from a thousand, thousand newscasts. It was the near-legendary Ocean-Jade Su-Yin Hemmingway, possessor of nearly as many degrees and honors as her 36 years, a member of the Inner Web and head of CENADMIN -- Santa Maria's Central Administration Committee.
From the moment of embarkation to landfall on Jevon, she would be mission commander and arbiter of their fate.
"I g... guess she's just a col... colonist too?" Shen prodded.
But Collum had no time to answer for Ocean-Jade had swept regally across the floor and, surrounded by journalists, stood before him.
Of all huddling colonists-to-be, she had recognized him. That ought to make Miss Misery sit up and take notice.
She bent to take his hand in hers. Wide, dark brown almond eyes over high cheekbones that hinted at mongolian ancestry. Full, pouting lips that begged to be kissed. An infinitely subtle mixture of power, intelligence and sensuality, Ocean-Jade Hemmingway was the ultimate dream woman for billions and here he was, face to face in an electrifying moment flashed to screens across the solar system.
What would he say?
Yes, he was on his way to the stars. Of course he realized he would be a humble steward of a new world but that's what it was all about. Well, yes, he'd miss his fame on Earth, of course, but what was an Olympic silver compared to an opportunity to help humanity start afresh?
"Well, there, young fellow," Ocean-Jade said, flashing a smile at the newsmen, "are you all ready for your biggest adventure?"
Collum gasped.
Oh, no. Ocean-Jade Hemmingway thought he was a little boy. And, far worse, Shenandoah April Hendry-Brighton was aware of it.
"Are you and Mommy and Daddy looking forward to your new life on Jevon?" Ocean-Jade asked, cementing it as she flashed another smile.
Collum, totally tongue-tied, huddled deeper in his blankets. He was tremendously embarrassed but far too cold to flush.
"Oh, my, we're very cold, aren't we?" Ocean-Jade said, flashing another smile at the press pack. "Can't you manage a little something for us, sweetheart? Please?"
She brought her gorgeous, famous face, which he suddenly hated, within inches as she gently moved his blanket aside. Then she gasped and normally big brown eyes got bigger as she caught sight of Collum's sandy-colored mustache and realized she was talking to a very small adult.
This had public relations disaster potential.
With an entreating expression, Collum begged her to keep his secret.
"Well, seems all this excitement and cold drugs are just a little much for our young friend," she said quickly, straightening with arms wide to herd journalists, "The little fellow's just worn right out. As we've said all along, this is not the most pleasant part of the process. New Canberra is loading now. Let's see if we can find someone from that township."
She swept away, as quickly as she had arrived, press tagging along like faithful dogs hanging on every word.
Shen's shoulders were shaking and Collum knew it wasn't from shivering.
"Well... well, lit... little boy?" Shen laughed, "are you and Mom... Mommy and Daddy..." She broke off in a fit of shivering and Collum, in an agony of embarrassment, wished she'd shiver her skinny little ass off.
Of all people in the solar system, why did he have to wind up next to her? How much shitty luck was that?
Ocean-Jade, meanwhile, had paused at the M'Kele-Anjous and newsmen swooped for a closeup. M'Kele-Anjou looked wearily into a huge compound eye of lenses and said something in response to shouted questions, but it evidently wasn't much. Journalists looked disappointed as they swept on in Ocean-Jade's wake.
"N-not very talkative," Shen remarked.
That was true while the man was filled with the powerful, metabolism-altering drugs, but it certainly hadn't been true in the interview Collum had seen on Holocube. M'Kele-Anjou had been sitting in his study, in front of floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with row upon row of books. Actual books, like in a museum, should have seemed an affectation, but somehow it had worked for the scholarly producer.
Why, the interviewer asked, was the greatest Virtie producer of the century prepared to abandon fame and fortune to become a simple colonist on Jevon?
M'Kele-Anjou had taken a long, thoughtful draw on his pipe, then said that, after a lifetime of Virties, he yearned for something real. This would be a chance to embark on a new dream for humanity. A chance to be in on something great.
"It's like the opening of the west," he'd explained, waving the pipe stem at his interviewer, "or the conquest of the Caribbean. You had people leaving comfort and stability and striking out for the unknown. These were the dreamers of the age."
"Not much comfort or stability," the interviewer said.
"It was the comfort and stability of a known system," M'Kele-Anjou had replied, "rather than a physical comfort and stability. They were leaving the known for the unknown. Leaving the familiar for the adventure of starting afresh. And this is exactly what Greenweb is doing. Joe Green dreamed it and we are going to give it life."
The interviewer had asked why M'Kele-Anjou thought starting fresh on another planet, light years away, would solve problems. M'Kele-Anjou explained that it was a matter of knowledge and education. The only people going were followers of J.C. Green. On Jevon the entire education system would be set up to facilitate a deep and abiding respect for the environment. Recycling and sustainability would be on from day one. Population control would be in effect, also from day one. Humans, living a natural life in small, self-sufficient villages, would be stewards of their new planet.
"We are egalitarians," M'Kele-Anjou said, puffing on his pipe, "best served by life in small rural villages. We don't have to build cities, you see, to enjoy our stewardship. In this post-industrial age, it is possible to be small and efficient. That's the key. Size and efficiency. We've not done well with the earth, but we mustn't beat ourselves up about that. We have to put it behind us and move on. Remember, there were stages of social and philosophical development through which we had to pass to arrive at where we are today."
"So why go gallivanting off to the stars?" the interviewer asked. A softball question from a Greenweb script. "Why not change what we have right here?"
"To reach all the people of earth, to change what we would have to change to be self-sustaining and to fit our environment, would be an impossibility," M'Kele-Anjou answered without missing a beat. "To put things quite simply, we need a new start from a sound philosophical base."
M'Kele-Anjou had gone on with the straight party line and Collum, who had joined Greenweb in First Year as part of a futile effort to bed a young lady named Anne Van Straten, wandered off for coffee with friends. Still, what M'Kele-Anjou had said stuck with him. Not the words, for he had heard those many times before. But the sincerity. A complex man's simple faith that things could be done properly.
He decided that he and Cecilia would go. A new start on a brand new planet. She refused and touched off another quarrel. Smarting at her attitude, he'd logged on to the Greenweb site and tested. The program informed him the unattached male roster was full, but his qualifications placed him at the top of the waiting list. It had been a virtual certainty that some single male among the 35,000 prospective colonists would back out and he would get a place.
That night he and Cecilia had the fight to end all fights. It finished up with Collum and his possessions on the lawn outside the grad student residence, explaining to what seemed like half the San Francisco P.D. that everything was fine and he'd just go home to his own place, thanks.
"Fellow colonists," Guenevere's voice came again, "The boarding of New Canberra is concluded. Now boarding New New York."
Naming the townships after earth's great cities had been intended to give a sense of continuity. Once they reached Jevon, the "New" appellations would be abandoned in favor of original city names. Cities with "New" already in their names were a bit awkward, but you couldn't just drop the Big Apple because of a name redundancy.
Collum and Shen sat in glum silence, ignoring each other as assistants came and quietly collected people and chairs rolled silently off, disappearing behind green doors. The chairs could easily have moved on their own, but Greenweb ostensibly wanted prospective colonists to have as many chances as possible to withdraw.
Once they went Out there could be no turning back.
Having living attendants attend at key junctures was presented as a way of humanizing the process and making it easier to bail.
In fact, in the years leading up to the mission there had been great debate among psychologists, some of whom claimed Greenweb's real motive was to make it more difficult to withdraw. You could easily chicken out if only a computer were witness, but in front of hundreds of fellow colonists?
It seemed like hours before attendants stopped in front of Shen's chair.
"It's time, Ms Hendry-Brighton," one said in hushed tones. "Are you prepared?"
Shen took a deep, ragged breath.
"Y-yes."
"Any last minute misgivings?"
"No," she said, then, "see you on Jevon, Ta... Tanto."
That hated nickname. Thank you, Spider Queen.
"If you don't ba... back out," she added.
"Oh, I'm sure Mr. MacNulty, of all people, won't back out," the man said, smiling as he touched her chair. "It's good to have you on board, Ms. Hendry-Brighton."
Shen's chair rolled out, executed a sharp left and headed for green doors.
It was strange. He couldn't abide the woman, and yet, losing the one familiar face in this silent throng left Collum feeling empty and abandoned. The cold set ever deeper into his bones and he huddled almost desperately, teeth chattering and limbs trembling.
He was barely conscious of chairs pulling out and being replaced by new arrivals. A huge digital clock over the stage didn't seem to be moving at all.
He could back out.
He still had three weeks on his closet-sized apartment overlooking a scenic Castro Street alley. No bed, he'd sold it along with his overstuffed sofa. Proceeds, of course, to Greenweb. But the rest of his stuff would still be there. He could pick up an air mattress and sleeping bag at FlorMart on his way home. By nightfall he could be curled up, safe, secure and, more importantly,warm, in that corner by the radiator. Then just a couple of days of flu-like symptoms as drugs wore off and he'd be back in the swing.
And he wouldn't care that Spider Queen would one day find out and sneer at his cowardice. Because he'd be 400 years dead by then.
A chair rolled in to the vacant slot left by Shen's.
Once on his feet, formally cancelling Power of Attorney would be a simple matter. Using standard Greenweb legal forms, he had made it conditional upon embarkation. The moment he left the line, notification would go to his father and he would be back in control of his own affairs.
He could just see the look on Mom's face when she got that call. Dad, too. Their baby was not going to be taken from them after all. He was coming home. But there would be sadness as well. They believed so in Greenweb and their son's destiny, entwined with that of humanity itself. One word now and he would never see a new sun. Never stand on a brand new planet as one of Earth's proud young Stewards of the Stars.
God, why had he ever signed on in the first place? What total lunacy carried him on this mad journey? Joe Green's giant holo shimmered and a cold tear ran down one cheek.
"H.. hi, there, young... young fellow."
Jesus Christ, of all the things he needed.
"Are you... are you go... going by yourself?"
He turned his face to a young woman in the next chair and pulled his blanket back to give her a good flash of mustache.
"Omigod," the woman said, smile vanishing. She even managed to blush. "Oh, I... I'm sorry. It's just that you... I mean, you're... well..."
"I'm short. Let's just leave it at that," Collum said.
"Oh, I... oh, yes. Of course. I'm really sor... sorry."
It angered him, even though he couldn't really blame her. Since about 2102, when most genetic manipulations of fetuses had at last been refined enough to be safe and dependable, most parents opted to control height, weight, sexual orientation and baldness. Some even went so far as to address tastes in food and color, a stunning blow to the plaid pants industry. But a few, such as Ian and Ingrid MacNulty, were Naturalists who eschewed genetic tampering. Collum was a midget in a land of Brobdingnagians.
"Well... Hi, I'm... I'm Snow... SnowCherry Ricardo-Symes."
Well, good. At least she had a stupid Greenie name.
Earliest disciples of billionaire Joe Green, back in the 2110s before Greenweb emerged as a mainstream movement, had drawn upon the environment for children's names. By the 20s and 30s, as Greenweb grew in power and prestige, the fad really caught on. The result was millions of girls with names like Rainforest, Ocean, Ocean-Jade, Coral, Summer, Autumn, Spring, Moonchild, Aurora, Cherry, SnowCherry, SnowPetal, Petal, Savannah, April, May, June, Fern, Rose, Rose Petal, Tulip, Ivy, Vine and Breeze. Popular boy's names included Tundra, Taiga, Arctic, October (JC Green's birth month), Polarstar, Ice, Flint, Granite, Cliff and rivers such as Fraser, Thames and Amazon, (though Shenandoah was a popular female name as well). Even Collum had not escaped, being named in part for the mighty Fraser River of British Columbia.
"Col... Collum Mac... MacNulty," he said, grudgingly. "Dr. Collum MacNulty."
"Oh... oh, I know who... who you are," SnowCherry said brightly, "You... you're the... the..."
"Tan... Tanto Terror," Collum said coldly. The Japanese Tanto, or dagger, was the shortest weapon in a Samurai's arsenal and, following Collum's brilliant win at the 2149 Tokyo Open, sportswriters had gleefully begun calling him the Tanto Terror.
"Wow. Oh, wow. Gosh, it's real... really neat to meet... meet you. Gosh, you know, my Da... Dad is a huge fan of your... yours. He saw you fight in To... Tokyo that time. He said..."
"Wh... what township are you?"
"Oh. Oh, I'm in New Chicago. Why, are we... in the same one?"
"No.... I'm in New... New Denver."
Thank god for that.
At least he'd be away from this garrulous little twit. As bright-eyed and chirpy as it was possible to be pumped full of hypothermics and metabolic depressants. She was the popular Driver-Hepburn complex, too. One of many brief genetic fads had produced thousands of girls who resembled 20th century movie stars. A combination of Minnie Driver and Audrey Hepburn had been particularly popular, producing almost unbearably cute children. But resulting adults looked as though they belonged on Carnation milk cans with herds of Wholesomes. This one had the earmarks of someone whose appearance didn't belie her basic nature. She made Shenandoah April Hendry-Brighton almost desirable.
He was actually glad when white-coated figures stopped before him.
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