The World At The End Of Time Part 26

"That's right. The Big Bang. It started out terribly hot and terribly dense, but as it expanded it cooled off. It didn't grow into into s.p.a.ce. It s.p.a.ce. It made made the s.p.a.ce, as it grew, and it filled it with things-and finally we came along." the s.p.a.ce, as it grew, and it filled it with things-and finally we came along."

Balit blinked up at Viktor. "Were we the only ones who came along, Viktor?" he asked.

"I don't know the answer to that, either, Balit. I haven't heard of any others. There could have been. There might have been millions of different kinds of people. They could have evolved and developed and then died away, just as human beings did- except for us few."

"It must have been beautiful, when there were all those stars and galaxies."

"It was. But stars die, too. All things die, even the universe, even-" To Viktor's surprise, he found his throat tightening. He had to turn his head away for a moment.

"What's wrong, Viktor?" Balit said in sudden alarm.

"Nothing, Balit. I think you'd better go to sleep now."

"No," the boy insisted. "You looked very sad just then. Was it about something bad? Was it-" He hesitated, then said in a rush, "Was it about the love partner you told me about?"

"It was about my wife," Viktor corrected him.

Balit nodded soberly. "I know how Frit or Forta would feel if one of them lost the other," he told Viktor. He looked at him for a moment, then said, sounding very tentative, "Viktor? Didn't Nrina say she could make you a mate? Don't you think you might let her?"

Viktor glared at him with a sudden near-anger. Then he relaxed, took a deep breath, and tousled the boy's hair. "You're officially grown-up," he said, "but I think you've got a little way to go in some ways. That isn't how it works, Balit."

"Then how does it works Viktor?" Balit persisted.

Viktor shook his head. "For me, now," he said, "I don't think it's ever going to work again at all."

The mechanics of calling someone on Newmanhome were not that difficult, especially after Balit showed Viktor how to use the desk to do it. Actually making the call, however, was a lot harder.

Once again, it was a matter of that unbreakable speed limit of light's velocity. (The human race had never managed to use tachyons or the Einstein-Rosen-Podolsky effect for any practical purpose. With only their own tiny little cl.u.s.ter of astronomical objects to work on, they hadn't really needed to.) At their current orbital positions, Moon Mary was a good five hundred million miles from Newmanhome-nearly three-quarters of an hour each way for a message to arrive. You couldn't converse. It was more like sending a telegram and waiting for a response, though of the course the "telegram" was a television message.

So Viktor, with Balit beside him to help, put through a call to Pelly, all those hundreds of millions of miles away. "h.e.l.lo, Pelly," he said, as though reading from a script. "This is Viktor. I was hoping-" He came to a stop there, and looked to Balit for help. "Tell him what you want," the boy prompted.

"Everything I want?"

"Yes, exactly, everything," the boy ordered, sounding exasperated. "How will he know if you don't tell him? Tell him you would like all the old records-about Nebo, about astronomical observations, everything you wish."

So, gathering speed as he went along, Viktor did. It made a formidable list. When he was through, Balit leaned past him and turned off the desk. Viktor looked at him inquiringly. "What do we do now?"

"We do nothing now," Balit told him. "It will be hours at least before Pelly can reply, and perhaps he is busy doing something else, and perhaps what you ask takes time."

"I imagine it will," Viktor said gloomily. Balit laughed.

"Oh, Viktor," he said with affection, "it is only hours, perhaps, not forever. Come and walk with me. Perhaps when we get back there will be a response."

When they had taken that belly-twisting elevator drop down to the parklike grounds around the building, Balit said curiously, "Would you really go to Nebo if you could?"

"In a hot minute," Viktor said emphatically.

"Even though it's dangerous?"

Viktor thought. "I'm not sure it's dangerous anymore," he said. "They did let that party land-"

"But then some of them were killed!" killed!"

"Yes, because they tried to force their way in," Viktor agreed. "That might not be necessary. There are other ways of investigating what's in those structures. Not X rays, probably; but ultrasound ranging, perhaps, or something like a neutrino source that can look right through them-"

"No one has any 'neutrinos,' Viktor," Balit said in reproof. Viktor laughed. "All right then. Maybe all we'd really need is a really big can opener. And some dumb volunteer to run it- like me."

Balit shuddered deliciously at the thought. Then he asked, "Viktor? What's a 'can opener'?"

There wasn't any answer to Viktor's call when they got back, or the next day, or the day after that.

By the end of his third week on Moon Mary Viktor had begun to wonder just how long a guest was supposed to stay. When he touched on the subject with his hosts they were invariably hospitable, and invariably hard to pin down. "Oh, but Balit loves having you here, Viktor, and Forta's been dying to have you show him some more of those quaint old dances."

"And it's so good for your leg to heal here," Forta put in helpfully.

"But Nrina-" he began.

"Oh, Nrina," Frit said, affably dismissing Nrina. "She'll be in touch before long, Viktor, you'll see. That reminds me, I've been meaning to ask you something. Do you think those Nebo colors-the ones you showed us the other day-do you think they would make a good costume for Forta?" And then that inevitably led to a few hours with Forta in his studio, demonstrating the waltz and the Peabody, to be worked into a dance Forta was planning on the heroic subject of the disastrous landing on Nebo.

It was not merely Viktor's desire to be a good guest-that was to say, one who left before his hosts began to despair he would ever go-that made him begin to be uncomfortable. He also had another problem that was growing larger. Moon Mary was a big place. It was full of people, all kinds of people, and Viktor could not help noticing that some of the ones he pa.s.sed in the parks and streets were female-were so conspicuously female, to all of his senses, that sometimes he almost thought they were scent marking the shrubbery. It distracted him in ways he had almost forgotten.

To put it more concretely, he was getting pretty h.o.r.n.y.

When Pelly's answer came at last it wasn't very helpful. The broad pumpkin face looked a little annoyed. "I'll ask around about what you want to know, Viktor, but I don't know much about that sort of thing myself. Markety might know; he spends a lot of time digging up old stuff, and so does his wife, Grimler. Unfortunately they're not here now, and I'm leaving myself pretty soon. Listen. While I think of it, if you see Nrina ask her how she's coming with my gillies. They need some more here. And say h.e.l.lo to Balit for me."

That was it. Viktor looked helplessly at Balit. "Who are Markety and Grimler?"

"I guess they're people who live on Newmanhome-I mean real people. Well, you know what I mean, Viktor," he finished, half apologizing. Then he thought for a moment and added, "I think Markety studied with Forta for a while, when I was little."

"Do you mean he's a dancer? What would a dancer be doing on Newmanhome?"

Balit grinned. "Dancing, I guess. Don't you think you should give Nrina her message?"

"Oh, well," Viktor said, stalling, "yes, maybe . . ."

But in the long run he did-hesitantly; he had always thought that Nrina should be the one to call him. But when he saw her lean, wide-eyed face looking up at him out of the desk panel he was unexpectedly happy. Conscious of the boy beside him, Viktor said stiffly, "How are you, Nrina? I've missed you."

It was a downer that she didn't respond right away. She was gazing up at him without speaking for several seconds, but just as Viktor was beginning to feel insecure she spoke up. "That is good to hear," she said, smiling. (Oh, of course. Distance again. Only a matter of seconds, this time, because Nrina's habitat was less than a million miles from Moon Mary-but that was something like five seconds travel time each way. Quite long enough to be disconcerting.) She did, Viktor thought, still seem affectionate. He gave her Pelly's message, and Nrina thought for a moment. "The gillies are young," she said doubtfully. "I wasn't going to send them for another couple of seasons. Still, it might be better for them to finish growing up where they're going to live. These are special gillies, you know. They're almost as strong as the original 'gorillas' you talk about, I think, but a lot more tractable. Like you," she finished, with an affectionate grin. "Oh, and I'm not too happy with the DNA from the stiffs I've still got. If you talk to Pelly tell him to bring me some more-no," she corrected herself, "I might as well call him myself. Well. It's been nice talking to you. Balit, is that you? How are you doing with your genetic studies?"

"All right, I guess, Aunt Nrina," the boy piped up. "Of course, I haven't had much time, helping Viktor and all."

"I believe that," she agreed ruefully. "He does take a lot of time, doesn't he? But he's worth it." And she blew them both a kiss and was gone, and she hadn't said a word about his coming back to her.

Nor did she in the days that followed. Nor did Pelly call back. When Viktor grumbled to Balit the boy said, "He's probably on his way home now, Viktor. But I'm sure he got your message to those other people."

"Then why don't they answer?" Viktor demanded. The boy shrugged, and Viktor's temper rose. "I could understand it if it was all lost! It's wonderful that it hasn't hasn't been lost, but you tell me they've had power all along, the geothermal generators have kept right on working, so the data's been lost, but you tell me they've had power all along, the geothermal generators have kept right on working, so the data's there, there, only n.o.body ever wants to only n.o.body ever wants to look look at it!" at it!"

"Please don't get excited, Viktor," Balit pleaded.

"I can't help it. Doesn't anybody care?"

"I care, Viktor. Really, though, you should be more calm." Balit hesitated, then said with determination, "Do you know what I think, Viktor? I think you are building up too many tensions."

Viktor gave him a hostile look. "What tensions are you talking about?"

Balit's expression seemed to show he was sorry he'd brought the subject up, but he took the plunge. "Why don't you have a s.e.xual partner, Viktor?" he asked with determination.

Viktor flushed. He was taken aback. "I-" he said. "I, uh-" He was having trouble responding; the last thing he had expected was to have to discuss his s.e.x life with this child. He managed to get out, "Well, if I did, it wouldn't be, uh, safe for the woman-"

"Because you are potent, yes, of course," Balit agreed earnestly. "That can be fixed, just as it was for me. In a few days the rest of my residual sperm will be resorbed and my brand removed, and then I can have s.e.xual intercourse freely again, just as you could."

"Wait a minute," Viktor said, staring at the boy. "Again?"

Balit looked puzzled. Then he said, in a self-deprecating way, "Of course, before I was mature it was only with young girls. For practice, as we say-though I did enjoy it very much. Soon it will be with real women. It can be for you, too, Viktor, if you want it. It doesn't hurt a bit," he added encouragingly, "well, except for a little bit, right at first. You know, you don't have to have a wife. wife. You don't have to agree to a pairing right at first; hardly anybody does that." You don't have to agree to a pairing right at first; hardly anybody does that."

"So it seems," Viktor growled, thinking of Nrina.

The boy's puzzled look returned, but he just asked curiously, "Have you ever done that, Viktor? Paired, I mean?"

"Sure I have," Viktor replied. Then, more slowly, he said, "I was married for a long time. Her name was Reesa-Theresa McGann-but she's dead now."

Fascinated, Balit went on, "And did you and this Reesa Theresa McGann have actual children together? I mean, born out of her body?"

"Yes, we did," Viktor said shortly. His discomfort was growing. It was not often that he thought of those long-dust members of his family, and it felt as though thinking of them now was likely to begin to hurt.

"And did you love her?" Balit demanded.

Viktor looked at the boy. "Yes!" he shouted. And realized again, quite a lot too late, that it was very true.

Time pa.s.sed slowly for Viktor. He spent a lot of time in his room, waiting for the message from Newmanhome that might answer all his questions, but it never came.

There was no point in calling Pelly again, because the s.p.a.ce captain was well on his way back to Nergal. Viktor hesitated about trying Markety or Grimler, whoever they were, but finally impatience won over hesitation and he placed a call to each of them.

There were no answers to those, either. Balit counseled patience. Balit himself was always patient with Viktor, when Viktor was gloomy or stormy; but Viktor's patience was running out. He spent more and more time with the desk, searching out every sc.r.a.p of information he could find that bore at all on anything astronomical.

None of it was any help.

There was plenty of data, to be sure, on the universe as it was-nothing on how it came to be that way. For a while Viktor interested himself in the atlas of the skies. There wasn't much of it: their own planets, just as he had known them in his first years on Newmanhome, the habitats, Nergal itself.

Their paltry group of surrounding stars had been studied, after a fas.h.i.+on-long enough to give them names, not much more. There was one group of four stars usually called "the Quadrangle"-their names were Sapphire, Gold, Steel, and Blood, taken, Viktor supposed, from the way they looked in the sky. There was Solitary-all off by itself in its part of the sky; a natural enough name. There were the binary pair, now called Mother and Father, with a period of about eight hundred years. There was Neighbor, the nearest star at less than three light-years distance, but an uninspiring little K-8.

Then there was Milk. Viktor studied the pale glow of Milk carefully, because it was the corpse of one of the stars that had flared in his own long-ago skies. The desk could tell him little, for no one lately had seemed to care why stars were different in color, and certainly no one had thought much about stellar evolution. But Viktor was nearly sure that what they saw wasn't the star itself anymore, but the sh.e.l.l of expanding gases it had thrust out of itself, now lit from within.

Then he discovered that someone, sometime in the past, had taken the trouble to look a little more closely at all those stars and had found out that Gold had six detectable planets.

Planets! And yellow Gold was a G-4-close enough to their own stellar type, indeed to the type of Earth's own sun.

Was it possible that someone had lived on one of Gold's planets?

By the time he could talk to Balit again he was bubbling with excitement. "It all fits together, Balit!" he cried. "There's a planetary system, not very distant at all. Suppose there's life on one of those planets, Balit!"

"You mean people like us?" Balit asked, wide-eyed.

"I don't know about that, Balit. Probably not very much 'like' us, if you mean two arms, two legs, two eyes-I don't have any idea what they might look like. But like us in that they've developed intelligence. And technology! Why not? They might even be a little farther along in science and technology than the human race ever was-it wouldn't have to be very far to make a big difference!"

"With s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps, you mean?"

"Exactly! With interstellar interstellar s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps. Suppose these Golden aliens, for purposes of their own-and how could we ever guess what their purposes might be? Suppose they decided to move a little furniture around. A dozen stars or so, for instance. Suppose they sent a crew to Nebo to build the machines that would take the energies of our sun, and use them to propel these few stars at high speed across the universe. Don't you see, Balit? It explains everything!" s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps. Suppose these Golden aliens, for purposes of their own-and how could we ever guess what their purposes might be? Suppose they decided to move a little furniture around. A dozen stars or so, for instance. Suppose they sent a crew to Nebo to build the machines that would take the energies of our sun, and use them to propel these few stars at high speed across the universe. Don't you see, Balit? It explains everything!"

"And if we studied the things on Nebo very carefully we might know how to do things like that ourselves? Or at least know why?" why?"

"Exactly!" Viktor cried in triumph.

But the triumph didn't last, for a guess was only a guess, and there was no way to test his hypothesis. He spent more and more time in his room, fruitlessly going over the data, wis.h.i.+ng for word from Newmanhome. He was gazing at the pale point of light that was the star Gold, when Frit tapped on the door. He was carrying the kitten, and he had an apologetic look. "Balit forgot to feed her, and now he's in bed," Frit said. "Can you help?"

"Sure," Viktor said, not very graciously. The kitten was big enough to eat regular food now. "I'll come out. You don't have to carry her," he added. "Put her down; if she's hungry she'll follow us."

Frit politely set the cat on the floor and led the way. To Viktor's surprise, Forta was in the "kitchen"-that was the only way Viktor could think of the room-sipping a gla.s.s of wine and looking expectant. Viktor found the little container of sc.r.a.ps of food, opened it, and set it on the floor. The kitten strolled over, sniffed at it, and then looked up at him. He smiled. "She's just being polite," he said. "That's what she wanted. See, she's eating now."

As he turned to leave, Forta said, "Why don't you have a gla.s.s of wine with us, Viktor?"

Viktor perceived that it wasn't just a casual invitation. He sat down and let Forta fill a gla.s.s for him before he said, "You didn't really need me to feed the cat, did you?"

Forta dimpled. "Not really. We wanted to talk to you, after Balit was asleep."

Faint alarm bells sounded in Viktor's head. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Not really wrong, no, Viktor," Frit said honestly. "It's just that we're a little bit concerned about Balit."

"About Balit's future," future," Forta amplified. Forta amplified.

Frit nodded. "We've always hoped he would want to become an artist of some sort-a dancer, perhaps, like Forta."

"He wouldn't have to be a dancer, as long as it was something that used his creative ability. Nrina thinks he has real talent as a gene worker," Forta added. "That's a kind of art, too, of course."

"But lately he's been so-well, so excited about these stars and things of yours, Viktor," Frit finished.

Viktor took a sip of his wine, feeling the strain between the obligations of a good guest and that burning need to know. know. "Balit's a very intelligent boy. He's really interested in science, too," Viktor said. "I think he could be good at it." "Balit's a very intelligent boy. He's really interested in science, too," Viktor said. "I think he could be good at it."

"Yes, we're sure he could, Viktor," Forta said reasonably. "But what kind of a life would Balit have if he confined his talents to 'science'? n.o.body's a 'scientist.' People will think he's odd."

"In my time it was a highly honored profession," Viktor said defensively-and, he thought, not entirely truthfully; for it depended on which "time" he was talking about. Certainly the icy Newmanhome of the four warring sects had offered few honors to scientists.

"In your time," Forta repeated. His tone wasn't exactly disdainful, but the best you could say was that it was forgiving. "Anyway, Viktor, it's not creative, creative, is it? There's nothing is it? There's nothing new new for him to do-you said yourself, all this sort of 'science' thing was well known thousands and thousands of years ago." for him to do-you said yourself, all this sort of 'science' thing was well known thousands and thousands of years ago."

"Not all of it, no. No one really understood what happened to our stars! Even the parts that were understood then-the basic astrophysics and cosmology-n.o.body seems to know anything about them now. They need to be rediscovered."

Frit said earnestly, "But don't you see the difference? Rediscovery, Viktor dear, is not the same as creation, creation, is it? You can't blame us for wanting something grander for our boy." is it? You can't blame us for wanting something grander for our boy."