Whipping Star Part 36

He thought about the fate of just one baby who'd never pa.s.sed through a jumpdoor. The baby would cry . . . and there'd be no one to answer.

The awesome totality of the threat daunted him.

Everyone gone!

He put down a surge of irritation at the zzzt-beat of the Taprisiot intrusions. That, at least, was companions.h.i.+p.

"Do Taprisiots send our messages across s.p.a.ce the same way?" he asked. "Do they see the calls?"

"Taprisiot very weak," the Caleban said. "Taprisiot not possess Caleban energy. Self energy, you understand?"

"I dunno. Maybe."

"Taprisiot see very thin, very short," the Caleban said. "Taprisiot not see through stellar ma.s.s of self. Sometimes Taprisiot ask for . . . boost? Amplification! Caleban provide service. Maintenance exchange, you hang? Taprisiot pay, we pay, you pay. All pay energy. You call energy demand . . . hunger, not so?"

"Oh, h.e.l.l!" McKie said. "I'm not getting the half of . . ."

A brawny Palenki arm carrying a whip inserted itself into the s.p.a.ce above the giant spoon. The whip cracked, sent a geyser of green sparks into the purple gloom. Arm and whip were gone before McKie could move.

"f.a.n.n.y Mae," McKie whispered, "you still there?"

Silence . . . then, "No laughter, McKie. Thing you call surprise, but no laughter. I break line there. An abruptness, that flogging."

McKie exhaled, noted the mindclock timing of the incident, relayed the coordinates at the next Taprisiot contact.

There was no sense talking about pain, he thought. It was equally fruitless to explore inhaling whips or exhaling substance . . . or maintenance exchanges or hunger or stellar ma.s.ses or Calebans moving other sentients by the energy of seeing. Communication was bogged down.

They'd achieved something, though Tuluk had been right. The S'eye contacts for the floggings required some timing or periodicity which could be identified. Perhaps there was a line of sight involved. One thing sure: Abnethe had her feet planted on a real planet somewhere. She and her mob of psycho friends -- her psycho-phants! -- all of them had a position in s.p.a.ce which could be located. She had Palenkis, renegade Wreaves, an outlaw PanSpechi -- G.o.ds knew what all. She had Beautybarbers, too, and Taprisiots, probably. And somehow the Beautybarbers, the Taprisiots, and this Caleban all used the same sort of energy to do their work.

"Could we try again," McKie asked, "to locate Abnethe's planet?"

"Contract forbids."

"You have to honor it, eh? Even to the death?"

"Honor to ultimate discontinuity, yes."

"And that's pretty near, is it?"

"Position of ultimate discontinuity becomes visible to self," the Caleban said. "Perhaps this equates with near."

Again arm and whip flicked into being, showered the air with a cascade of green sparks, and withdrew.

McKie darted forward, stopped beside the spoon bowl. He had never before ventured quite this close to the Caleban. There was more heat near the bowl, and he felt a tingling sensation along his arms. The shower of green sparks had left no mark on the carpeting, no residual substance, nothing. McKie felt the insistent attraction of the Caleban's unpresence, a disturbing intensity this near. He forced himself to turn away. His palms were wet with fear.

What else am I afraid of here? he asked himself.

"Those two attacks came pretty close together," McKie said.

"Positional adjacency noted," the Caleban said. "Next coherence more distant. You say 'farther away'? True?"

"Yeah. Will the next flogging be your last?"

"Self not know," the Caleban said. "Your presence lessens flogging intensity. You . . . reject? Ahhh, repel!"

"No doubt," McKie said. "I wish I knew why the end of you means the end of everyone else."

"You transfer self of you with S'eye," the Caleban said. "So?"

"Everyone does!"

"Why? You teach explanation of this?"

"It's centralizing the whole d.a.m.n universe. It's . . . it's created the specialized planets -- honeymoon planets, gynecology planets, pediatrics planets, snow sport planets, geriatrics planets, swim sport planets, library planets -- even BuSab has almost a whole planet to itself. n.o.body gets by without it, anymore. Last figures I saw, fewer than a fraction of one percent of the sentient population had never used a S'eye jumpdoor."

"Truth. Such use creates connectives, McKie. You must hang this. Connectives must shatter with my discontinuity. Shatter conveys ultimate discontinuity for all who use jumpdoor S'eye."

"If you say so. I still don't understand."

"It occurs, McKie, because my fellows choose me for . . . coordinator? Inadequate term. Funnel? Handler, perhaps. No still inadequate. Ahhh! I, self of I, am S'eye!"

McKie backed away, retreating from such a wave of sadness that he felt he could not contain it. He wanted to scream in protest. Tears flowed down his cheeks unbidden. A sob choked him. Sadness! His body was reacting to it, but the emotion came from outside of himself.

Slowly it faded.

McKie blew air soundlessly through his lips. He still trembled from the pa.s.sage of that emotion. It had been the Caleban's emotion, he realized. But it came out like the waves of heat in this room, swept over and immersed every nerve receptor in its path.Sadness.

Responsibility for all those impending deaths, no doubt.

I am S'eye!

What in the name of all devils in the universe could the Caleban mean by such a strange claim? He thought of each jumpdoor pa.s.sage. Connectives? Threads, perhaps. Each being caught by the S'eye effect trailed threads of itself through the jumpdoors. Was that it? f.a.n.n.y Mae had used the word "funnel." Every traveler went through her . . . hands? Whatever. And when she ceased to exist, the threads broke. All died.

"Why weren't we warned about this when you offered us the S'eye effect?" McKie asked.

"Warned?"

"Yes! You offered . . ."

"Not offer. Fellows explain effect. Sentients of your wave expose great joy. They offer exchange of maintenance. You call this pay, not so?"

"We should've been warned."

"Why?"

"Well, you don't live forever, do you?"

"Explain this term, forever."