The Leaves of October Part 11

"I sent her home at dusk."

"She's not here. I thought maybe you...." Emele stops, takes a breath. "I'll alert the Secret Service to look for her."

I broaden my senses, drinking in the quiet of the night and listening with the Inner Voice. The night is alive with dreams: the peaceful red dreams of plants, the more violent warm dreams that beat in the minds of the animals, the confusing visions that come from Humans. I know them all, I have heard their music before. Now I listen to them more closely.

This landscape of dreams is not something that we Hlutr explore often. I am searching for a gentle, pure song that I know well- Fenelia's simple mind. If she were in the wood or within the Capital, I would be able to tell.

She is not.

Now my brothers and sisters aid me, few though we are. Together, we hear the fall of every twig and sparrow on Escen, the breath of every Human and the subtle growth of every plant. And nowhere, nowhere do we hear Fenelia Koleno.

Long before the morning comes, I know the truth that I will not say to her mother, the awful fact that Sten will discover when he returns at midafternoon: Fenelia is gone.

But where?

We Hlutr of Escen are rather insular; on our happy planet we do not have much need to commune with our brothers and sisters beyond the stars. Yes, we sing in the great Hlutr-song that fills s.p.a.ce, and our Elders add what little they can to the councils of the Hlutr race. By and large, though, we keep to ourselves and our world.

Not so now. In my anxiety about Fenelia, I appeal to those Hlutr of other planets; I send my song forth to echo between the stars. And I listen, listen for any mention of a lost Human girl-child.

This is slow work, this blending with the Hlutr song. The Galaxy is a wide and varied place, an eternal forest filled with creatures of every description, and I am stunned at the mere glimpse of this complexity. I know that Sten Koleno has returned to Escen, that Secret Service agents are combing the planet and all its computers. To this work I pay little attention, and days slide past while I am lost in the grand song.

Stars above, what a delight the universe is! The Hlutr Song is a melody of millions of voices, each it seems singing in response to some other, each carrying meaning and information about their worlds. How, how can the Elders stand it?

Slowly I become accustomed to the Song. Slowly I learn from it, and the things the other Hlutr tell me make me afraid.

On Escen we have seen our share of wars, political coups, religious intolerance and even ma.s.s murders; but by and large, our Human friends have been well behaved throughout their history. We have cherished them the way we cherish the great forests and the sea-creatures, the way we cherished the magnificent colonies of one-celled beasts in times past. And our Humans have rewarded us with friends.h.i.+p and- most of the time- with peace.

Now I hear from the Hlutr of other worlds, I hear of the things that other Humans have done to their children. Beatings, a.s.saults on privacy, destruction of dignity, even horrible and painful deaths: the abuses are beyond cataloging, almost beyond belief. How could any sapient race behave thus toward its own children?

Yet, the Elders beyond the stars tell me, there are those among every race- even the Hlutr- who will grow in the direction of evil. Humans are not unique; rather it is Escen, and other happy planets like it, which are the exception in this huge Galaxy.

Knowing now terrors that I had never conceived of before, I am even more frightened for Fenelia. The Escen Secret Service is hard at work tracking her, yet I know they will not find her. I listen with the senses of the Inner Voice, and what I hear is a soundless echo of a terrible distress. I ask the Human computer, and it searches its memory, then answers. It tells me of seventies-upon-seventies of cases like Fenelia, on seventies of worlds and settlements: children who have vanished from their families, never to reappear.

Those children are somewhere. Listen with the Inner Voice and you will hear it, that wail which darkens the pure light of the stars, and spoils the freshness of the clean wind. Listen, and you will hear the sighs of loneliness, the tears of pain, the strangled moans of fear. They are out there, and they are making this fearful noise.

It is the sound of the Little Ones.

Crying.

I call upon the Human computer again. "I would speak with Sten Koleno."

"Koleno here."

"Sten, I must see you."

"Things are busy here, and- "

"It concerns Fenelia. She may have been taken deliberately."

There is an unaccountable flash of hope from the mora.s.s of despair that fills Sten's mind. "Don't say anything more. Not over an unsecured data line. I'll be right there."

He is breathless when he arrives; he sits at my roots and rests his head against my trunk. "Tell me."

I sing to him of what I have discovered, of the insanity of Human evil, of the mistreatment of children, of the sharp silent cry of the Human Little Ones far off in s.p.a.ce.

"And wherever they are, my daughter is there too?"

"I do not know, Sten. I cannot pick up Fenelia's song from the mixed cries of others." The pungent tang of disappointment sweeps through his mind. "Children have been disappearing; should we not seek Fenelia with the other Little Ones?"

He sighs, and I feel him struggling to consider despite the turmoil of his thoughts and feelings. "A little girl who might have been Fenelia was seen at the s.p.a.ceport at about the same time a s.h.i.+p left for the Calmathis VI settlement. Secret Service agents are on their way."

I think of what I know of the Human settlements. Calmathis VI is on the edge of the wild area called Transgeled, far outside the border of the Escen Hegemony. I listen, and I sing questions to my brothers and sisters beyond the sky. It is difficut to make them think in Human terms of distance and borders and direction. "No. The Little Ones are not at Calmathis. Farther. Deeper into the Transgeled, I think."

"Calmathis is our only clue. The agents may be able to find where she went."

I sing to my Elders, asking their advice on a thing that Hlutr seldom do. They are silent; the choice is mine. "Sten, I wish to accompany your agent and search for Fenelia."

"How can you do that?"

"Through the Inner Voice, a Hlutr mind can take root in the brain of an animal operative. It is not a process that we enjoy- but gladly will I do this thing, to help find Fenelia."

"Why? What's so important about my daughter, that you're willing to go to such lengths for her? I'm grateful, but...you've stood here the whole time my people have been on Escen, through wars and quakes and epidemics. And you've never involved yourself in our affairs. Why now, for one Human child?"

How can I explain to Sten? I broaden my Inner Voice, allowing him to hear the merest echo of the Hlutr Song.

Yours are a strange folk, Sten Koleno. For nearly six millennia we have been watching you, and the councils of the Hlutr have burned with the question of what to do with you. You have much to offer the Universal Song, but even the best of you are wild and uncivilized. The cause of this you carry in your genes and in your social heritage, and only the patience of seventies of generations will cure you. He struggles to understand; and he is one of few Humans I have known who can understand. You and your daughter, and your children to be, are a major step along the way to Human maturity. We cherish you...and it would be a sad thing indeed for Fenelia to be lost.

"I...think I see what you're saying."

I peek at his emotions, and along with wonder there is a certain resentment. No, Sten. You are not simply a piece in some great Hlutr game. Other races play that way - we cannot. You are truly my friend, Fenelia is my friend. The ways of the Hlutr are not the ways of your folk; through wars and plagues and disasters I have grieved that the ways of the Hlutr would not allow me to give aid. I rejoice that now I can allow myself to become involved.

He shakes his head. "It's beyond me. I hear what you're saving, but I can't comprehend it." He s.h.i.+vers. "Nonetheless, I thank you. Please find her."

I have been with the Humans too long, and have taken on too many of their ways. For now, I wish I could shed tears as they do.

My tears, as the notes of my song, leap forth for the stars.

I summon a host from among the tranquil, cultured folk of the planet Narbidra, which lies very near the Human settlements of Calmathis. The folk of Narbidra are small furred creatures who live in the forests of their beautiful planet; long have we Hlutr had an affinity for their gentle ways and their sensitivity for the Inner Voice, and long have they served us as hosts and operatives.

My host's name is Shalit Kravito Ni, a young member of the same Kravito tribe that led the Narbidrans to enlightenment and maturity twice seventy million years ago. Shalit stands nearly as tall as a Human child, and to the sons and daughters of Terra who cannot hear the inner song of her mind, she resembles a rather s.h.a.ggy pony with double jointed limbs. This is her first trip into s.p.a.ce, although she has hosted for Hlutr before at conferences on Narbidra. She comes to Calmathis Vl on a s.h.i.+p of the Galactic Riders, and while the s.h.i.+p lays in port she opens her thoughts and her body to my Inner Voice.

I thank you for this favor, Shalit Kravito Ni, I sing.

I am honored, Elder. The Hlutr of Narbidra explained your mission to me I am grateful for this chance to save the Little Ones of Mankind.

I have not taken a host since my sapling days. You are most kind to accept me, and I hope the experience will be a rewarding one for you.

Thank you, Elder. Now Shalit's mind closes in upon itself like a flower curling up for the night, and I take control of her strange vet graceful animal body.

I enter Calmathis Vl.

I know that Humans have constructed small artificial worlds in s.p.a.ce, and even that a few Hlutr volunteers live in some of these strange habitats. Yet I am not prepared for the reality of Calmathis that meets my borrowed senses when I step through the airlock.

Shalit's people have a very acute sense of smell, so it is the odors and fragrances that come to me first, in a vast cacophony of seventies upon seventies of different scents. Then I stop, amazed, as Shalit's eyes focus on the odd place I have entered.

A world rises around me, a world of forests and cities, of lakes and beaches, a world with all the smells and sounds of a real planet. At once I pick up the song of this world, its music composed and performed by trillions of creatures: tiny viruses, insects, Humans, trees, schools of fish and countless other living things. Calmathis is no sterile construct of metal and plastic; Calmathis is a world.

I stand, four feet firmly planted on the ground, and stare at the unimaginable beauty of Calmathis spinning its lonely way through the Galaxy. Then, too soon, my reverie is shattered by the voice of a robot: "Are you Shalit Kravito Ni?" The fluid Narbidran vowels sound flat in its toneless speech.

Shalit's mouth parts are extremely flexible and can easily handle the sounds of Human speech. "I am."

"Come this way, please." The robot leads me to a large building of gla.s.s and plastic; soon I am ushered into a small conference room where several Humans stand. All but one of them wear the uniform of the Escen Hegemony. My senses are drawn to the other.

Her body is small and her dark hair short; at first glance I would think her a child. Yet I am sensitive to the disciplined music of her mind, and I know that this is no Human sapling -she is an adult, and one who, like Sten Koleno, has not lost the essential innocence of childhood.

The others defer to her; I see in their eyes and in their minds that she is the leader. Showing no discomfort at talking to an alien being, she says, "I am Doku Tomich of Marcreni. I am a special agent in the Escen Secret Service. I bid you welcome."

"May your days be full and your future bright." It is a proverb of Shalit's folk, which springs unbidden to my lips. "Although my form is that of Shalit Kravito Ni, in essence I am the Hlut Elder who stands in the wood behind the Palace on Escen."

She smiles, yet her eyes are sad. "I remember you, Elder. I played in your woods as a child nearly thirty years ago. You taught me the music of the trees." She lowers her eyes. 'I'm afraid that time hasn't given me much opportunity since to listen to that music. But occasionally I imagine that I can still hear it."

"It is there when you need it, Doku Tomich." I dimly remember her now, a younger playmate of Sten's who visited often when she was very young. "You departed Escen then, did you not?"

"My mother was amba.s.sador from Marcreni. She returned home in my fifth year. I was at school when she died on a diplomatic mission to Fekrein."

Another Human interrupts her. "Madame, time is short."

She turns abruptly. "Quiet. Among civilized folk, it is the custom to exchange greetings." She looks back at me. "Excuse me, these louts know nothing of the customs of the Scattered Worlds."

"You were trained by the Galactic Riders," I guess.

"In part," she says with a sigh. "When I graduated, a Human Galactic Rider arranged for me to study with the Ancients in their academy on Ny. Once I even visited Nephestal itself." For just a moment, her thoughts sing with the eternal melody of life; then she quivers and the music is hut a memory. "Those were happy times. But I decided I should serve my own folk, so I returned to the Hegemony.'

"You have the form of a Human child, yet you are adult. "

"Through reconstructive surgery and hormone treatments, I keep the appearance of a ten-year-old. I specialize in crimes against juveniles, so this disguise is very useful in my work." A fiery intensity underlies her words.

"Is there much...crime against juveniles?"

"Too much." Doku spreads her arms. "Drugs, kidnapping, abuse- and lately, worse each year." In her mind there is a flash of memory, quickly buried: a man who called himself her father, yet hurt her unceasingly until she was old enough to leave home. "And then there are the disappearances: over five hundred in the Hegemony alone just this year-and another six or eight hundred that we know of from nearby worlds."

"Where are the children going?"

"I wish I knew. We've been trying to find out. Three dozen were tracked here to Calmathis, but the trail ends. My people have taken this settlement apart, and the missing kids aren't here." She sighs. "That's why this case is so vital. Fenelia Koleno's father is important; we have full co-operation from the Hegemony government. Plus your aid. If you can help us find Fenelia, then I hope we'll locate the other children too."

"How can a thousand children be missing without the Humans finding them? Why do Humans permit this?"

"The Galaxy is huge, and even a thousand pairs of parents aren't much against that immensity. We need the resources of governments: authority to do computer searches, diplomatic immunity, military backup if we should need it. And we need the help of the Hlutr."

"You have it, Doku Tomich. What is our next step?"

She glances at a computer terminal. "We have one slender lead- one suspect: Nen Basilus. He's a solitary freighter pilot who makes an irregular run deep into the Transgeled. He's been very friendly with the children who hang around the port. He just might be our next link."

"What do you plan?"

"Now that you're here, we can get started." There is quiet determination in her mind...and just a trace of fear. "You see, I thought I could pretend to be a runaway child, and you my pet. Then we'll see if Nen Basilus will take us to wherever the other children have gone."

"And what then?"

"I wish I knew."

The s.p.a.ceport smells of steel, old oil and electricity. It is an odd place, a domain of automata and machinery more than of living creatures. Yet there is a bizarre feeling in the air-almost as if the s.h.i.+ps, the robots who tend them, and the port equipment surrounding them, are struggling to be alive, yet forever doomed to remain inanimate.

Doku skips, and I follow at her heels. The machines sense her, and they move out of her path...in their own way, they are almost compa.s.sionately protective of their masters' children. Humans stand about the port, conversing or directing the machines; few of them take notice of Doku and me. We come to a corner, turn it- and a young Human man is before us, lounging next to the cargo dock that opens into the hold of his s.h.i.+p.

He is dark as Elders' sienna bark, dark as the good soil of Escen forests, dark from feet to head and clothed in fabric blacker still. His scent is heady, pleasant and rich, and his eyes are like bright twin stars in winter skies.

Doku nods to me. This is Nen Basilus. This is the man, perhaps, who took Fenelia away. The man, perhaps, who took all the rest of the Little Ones.

Where?

Nen Basilus smiles. "Hi."

Doku stops her skipping and grins back at him. "h.e.l.lo. I'm Doku, who are you?"

"My name's Nen. Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"No place special."

"Say, that's a swell pet you have there. What is it?"

Doku drops to her knees and puts her arms around me. "This is my Narbid. I'll bet you've never seen one of these before."

"You're right about that. Where'd you get her?"

"It's a him."

"Oh. Sorry. Where'd you get him?"

"I don't know. Daddy brought him home once." She peers around Nen at his s.h.i.+p. "Daddy brings home all kinds of animals. "

"Where's your Daddy now?"

"I'm going to see him. He's . . ." she frowns. "Someplace far away. I forget the name." She waves in the direction of the settlement. "He sent a robot to take me there, but I got away from it."

Doku's performance is amazing. Even in the Inner Voice of her mind she has become a child; the sophisticated adult I spoke with is completely buried now under her childish persona, just as Shalit Kravito Ni's personality is submerged under mine.

Nen stretches, then crouches next to Doku and I. He runs his hand over my head, and I force myself not to start. "He's very pretty." He smiles. "Why did you run away from the robot?"