The Singers of Time

10

What Sue-ling Quong felt was excitement, what Sork Quintero felt was savage joy at the prospect of attaining his life's ambitions, but what Sork's twin brother Kiri Quintero mostly felt was relief.

Kiri's relief was not complete. It was tainted by the passions he could still feel floating around the control room, even though the main disputants had finally agreed—if not on any long-range covenant, at least to stop their bickering for a while. It had been hot and heavy for a while there. Kiri himself had found his peaceful calm fraying, and even Moon Bunderan's Taur had been restive, tossing the great horned head and lowing from time to time in unhappy protest as the fight went on.

Now there was a break. Kiri looked up as Sue-ling and Moon came in, with Krakc's half-human crew. "Over here," he called to Sue-ling. "We're going to go into wave-drive—and we're all going to get our first lesson in space piloting!" He nodded toward Francis Krake, who raised his head from one of the control banks long enough to glower up at them.

Sue-ling looked around uncertainly. "What's been going on here?" she asked.

Kiri slipped a reassuring arm around her, enjoying the warm, solid feel of her body. "Oh," he said, aware of his brother's eyes on them but not looking toward him, "those three have been going around and around for the last half hour." He jerked a thumb toward the two Turtles, standing immobile as granite, flanking Krake at the control board. "I guess the Turtles won," he added, lowering his voice, "because Krake finally threw up his hands and said he'd take off. But they didn't really agree on anything, I'd say. I think that's what he's so ticked about."

"May I?" Daisy Fay said politely, and Kiri moved out of the way to permit her to slip her ungainly metal body into the space where the board operator's seat should have been. "Thanks," said Daisy Fay, turning one eyestalk toward him. "Did anybody tell you what we do here?"

Kiri shook his head. "They were all too busy fighting," he said.

Daisy Fay chuckled. "I think we're going to see a lot of that. Anyway, this position is only the state-of-the-ship board. It doesn't actually fly the Hind. All you do here is watch out for signal lights. If any of them turn red, then there's trouble." The pretty face on the plastron grinned up at him. "But none of them ever have," she added.

"I didn't know the Turtles used red for a warning color," Sue-ling put in.

"Far as I know, they don't. This is our control room. They designed it to our specifications and put it into the shielded section when they leased the ship to Francis." One eyestalk twisted around to look at Francis Krake. "Captain?" she called. "Are we ready for wave-drive insertion?"

Krake didn't look up. "Board green," he called, his eyes fixed on the controls.

"Green," Daisy Fay repeated. Her fingers danced over the board for a moment, and Kiri Quintero felt a sudden lurch as the mass-thrusters gave The Golden Hind a gentle nudge. "Correcting orientation," Daisy Fay called. In an undertone she explained to Kiri, behind her, "We want to be pointed in the right direction."

"Locked on course," Krake called from the other board.

Daisy Fay's tentacles moved rapidly across the board. "Stand by for wave-drive," she said, her eyestalks glancing up to look at the screens. Kiri could not help following her glance. It was a startling spectacle. Earth appeared behind the orbit station, no more than a thin blue crescent. The Sun rolled into visibility, but diminished by the screens to no more than a tarnished copper coin.

"Wave-drive on," cried Francis Krake.

And the bottom dropped out of Kiri Quintero's stomach, and he felt himself falling.

In Kiri's dream he was being held tenderly by a woman who was not Sue-ling Quong. She was not really a woman at all. She was a red-shelled monstrosity that had seized him with blood-colored tentacles; and when he opened his eyes the dream was no dream at all.

"It's all right, Kiri," said Daisy Fay McQueen's reassuring voice. "I know it felt pretty strange, but it was only the shift to wave-drive. It must've hit you hard."

Kiri pushed himself free of her embrace, surprised again to feel himself of a normal weight. "It did," he said dizzily, staring around. He wasn't in the control room any more but in a tiny compartment with a bunk in it. "I—I thought I was falling—" He found himself covered in sweat, and let the woman in the hideous machine help him to lie down on the bunk. "Why are we in gravity again?" he asked plaintively, looking up at her.

"We're not, really. The sensation is just an artifact of the wave-drive." Daisy Fay touched a control, and screens like the ones in the control chamber appeared around the room. "We're picking up speed now," she told him. "There's Earth, and over there—" (Kiri blinked at an impossibly crimson disk, shrinking from sight.) "—that's Mars. The colors are the way they are because they've red-shifted because of our velocity. Of course," she went on, lecturing as to a child, "we don't really see them. We don't have anything material to see with any more. Our own wave train is transparent; radiation passes right through us. But instruments can still pick up interference effects, and that's what we show on the screen."

"We'regoingV He pushed himself erect.

"That's right, Kiri," the metal-woman said, waving her tentacles affirmatively. "Now you'd better get some sleep. I'm on shift in four hours, and you're supposed to come with me to learn how to pilot a waveship."

He gazed up at her uncertainly. "All right," he said, and started to turn away. Then he stopped himself, out of the habit of a lifetime. "Where's Sork?" he asked.

The face on the belly plate looked away. "Why don't you just go to sleep, Kiri? I'm sure Sork's all right."

Kiri was wide awake now. "No! Answer me, what's he doing now?"

The face on the belly plate looked sympathetic. "Honestly, Kiri, I don't think he's in any trouble . . . though I doubt he's enjoying it. He's—he's gone off with the Turtles. They're questioning him about something, Kiri. I hope he's all right."

A hundred meters away, Sork was hoping the same thing about himself. It wasn't that he was afraid for his safety. Though the two great Turtles hawked and shrieked threateningly, Sork was reasonably sure they would not descend to any physical act on his own person. That was not Turde style.

For that matter, Sork wasn't afraid of anything very often. Not even when he had good reason to be. Fear simply was not a part of his makeup. But he could be troubled, and often enough was, and what troubled him in this particular situation was that he could not interpret what the Turtles were after. Their questions kept coming back to the old quantum-physics lectures Sue-ling Quong had brought from her old school.

The worst thing was that he couldn't fit it all into a sensible pattern. He wished Kiri could help him, and knew he could not—and wished for half a moment for a drink of Scotch that would help ease that familiar confusion in his mind; but he put that thought away as soon as he discovered it in himself.

It wasn't fair! He had planned so carefully. Sork had done the precise thing that needed to be done: anticipated a situation, worked out a plan, decided how to handle it. Accordingly, "Yes," he said, almost as soon as they brought the subject up, "I am willing to give you access to the tapes as a commercial arrangement, under certain terms."

Chief Thunderbird rapped severely, "We do not speak of other 'terms.' Also, mere access is not enough. You must furnish more."

"What more?" Sork asked.

The Turtle seemed embarrassed. "You have heard many of these tapes. There are certain words and concepts in them which are unfamiliar. One requires that you help us by explaining them to us."

"Help you," Sork said meditatively, enjoying the sudden feeling of power—how long had it been since any human heard a Turtle ask for "help"? He said, "I'm willing to do that, but I ask you again, what terms do you offer?"

The Turtles turned an eye on each other, one each on Sork Quintero. "No additional terms are required. It is a pooling of assets, as agreed," screeched Chief Thunderbird.

"Oh, no," said Sork, confidently shaking his head. "We have no agreement here. What assets do you contribute? There must be something in exchange for my services; that's the Turtle way."

"Your services are only to make possible our use of the chips, and those are not your assets, Sork Quintero! They are the property of the human female, Sue-ling Quong!"

Sork was ready for that one. "Sue-ling and I have already pooled assets," he said, not entirely truthfully. "I speak for both of us."

The Chief turned both eyes on him in baffled rage, then turned off the transposes for a moment. Sork waited while the two Turtles hawked and hissed at each other. Then Litlun turned to him. He spread his webbed paw, counting off items on his talons:

"These are what we offer: Food. Air. Water. All the things you humans require for survival. The Brotherhood is furnishing these assets to you in exchange for the ones we request." And, as Sork began to scowl: "If you do not wish to accept these terms it will be necessary for us to remove you and Sue-ling Quong from this ship."

"At a suitable place, of course," added Chief Thunderbird. "One on which it is possible for you to survive, though perhaps not in as much comfort as on your own planet—and, of course, there would be no guarantee that you would be returned to your Earth at any specific future time."

Sork cursed to himself: It had all seemed so logical when he thought it out in private! Leave it to the Turtles to find some way of ruining things! He tried to imagine what it would be like to be set down on some strange planet. He couldn't. It was simply too far out of his experience. But what he was sure of was that the thing he wanted most, the thing he had planned for—to learn how to pilot a spacecraft—was within his grasp in The Golden Hind, and if he let that chance slip away. . . .

He tried desperately to take command on the discussion. "But—" he began, floundering for the right words. "But—but why do you want these tapes? You said they were heretical. I think one word you used was 'obscene.'"

"That does not now apply," screeched Litlun. "Because of the great peril the Brotherhood now stands in, we must conquer our revulsion at—certain things."

"Which are no concern of yours, Sork Quintero," Chief Thunderbird pointed out. "It is only necessary for you to confirm to us that you accept this pooling of assets for mutual benefit."

And there the argument rested—for an hour and more, Sork battling for some advantage, the Turtles grimly holding their position.

The situation became more and more puzzling to Sork the more he thought about it. It seemed that the Turtles were tacitly admitting that all this possibly "blasphemous" (but certainly weird) quantum-anthropic-whatever-you-called-it stuff was in some way "real."

But if that were so, that raised some hard questions. For instance: If the lecture stories were true, then the science involved had to have been known to the inventors of the wave-drive. But if the Turtles denied the science . . . then how had they built the waveships?

When he tried to ask that of the Turtles they were fierce in snapping at him. "Do not ask questions on matters which are not your concern!" thundered the Chief.

Sork stared at him in loathing and defeat. What made it worse was that for some time now he had been smelling food cooking somewhere. It had been a long time between meals.

Litlun squawked ferociously, "There is no need for further discussion, only for your answer! Do you accept our terms? Or do we alter course to set you down on some other world?"

Sork sighed and surrendered—almost. "All right. I will do my best to explain what the lecture chips are about."

"Good! Then this is agreed," Chief Thunderbird said. "Our first session will begin now."

"But I'm hungry," Sork wailed, but the Turtle only said: "Now."

When Sork at last was allowed to return to the control room he wasn't surprised to find Francis Krake there. The surprising thing was that Krake wasn't the one who sat at the control board. Krake was off at one side of the room, busy taking food out of a heater; it was Moon Bunderan who, under Marco Ramos's watchful stalked eyes, was sitting there at the controls. Her great Taur was squatting beside her.

As Sork came in the animal looked up quickly, but then the great purple-blue eyes went blank and the head swayed away from him again.

"Hello, Sork," Moon cried, pleased with herself—then seeing the look on his face. "What's the matter?" she asked quickly.

Sork shrugged. "What are you doing?" he asked.

She said proudly, "I'm driving the ship! Not that there's anything to do," she added honestly, "but Marco says I've picked up enough to see the warnings if anything went wrong. ..."

"You're doing fine," Marco assured her. "How's the chow coming, Francis? I bet Sork would like some too."

The space captain grunted and began dumping containers of hot food into dishes, handing them around. "Thanks," said Sork, realizing just how hungry he was. But as he began to lift his fork toward his mouth he saw that the shelled creature who was Marco Ramos was eating too—ladling food into a slit in its shell with as much evident gusto as any hungry human.

One of the eye tentacles turned toward him, and Sork could almost have thought that it had a humorous twinkle. "Oh, yes, we eat," Marco told him. "We have complete digestive systems. Would you like to know how we go to the bathroom, too? It's simple. There's this hatch—"

"Please!" said Sork sharply.

Moon Bunderan looked at him, then changed the subject. "This Taur steak is really good, Captain Krake. You know how to broil meat—oh," she said, looking at his plate. "But you're not eating any."

"I don't eat Taur," Krake said flatly.

Moon stared at him, not comprehending. "But it's so good," she said.

Krake nodded, fixing her with a stare. "And you do eat it, don't you. In spite of how you feel about Thrayl?"

Moon stopped chewing. "Now, that's not fair!" she protested unhappily. "Thrayl is my friend. The others, the ones who are slaughtered—they're dehorned steers, you know; they aren't intelligent!"

Krake gazed at her soberly, then turned away without speaking. Moon appealed to the others. "Isn't that true, Sork? Taurs are eaten. That's what they're raised for, isn't it?"

"Of course it is," Sork Quintero reassured her.

Then he turned to Krake. "Why are we going to the Mother planet?" he asked.

The space pilot laughed angrily. "You don't know? But it's your fault."

"My fault? What did I do?"

"You let Litlun think you knew all about white holes and wormholes and all that. Now he's got the idea that that's what happened to the Mother planet."

Sork blinked at him. "But what's the point of that? If the planet's destroyed, it's destroyed, isn't it?"

"Ask Lidun," Krake said shordy. "Anyway, that's where we're going." He rubbed his bearded chin. "What I'm hoping," he said, "is that once we get there he'll see how hopeless it is and then he'll let us go our own way. Meanwhile, that's our destination."

Sork opened his mouth to confess what deal he had made with the Turdes, but closed it again. The only person he had to confess to was Sue-ling Quong, not this spaceman. He asked a question instead. "How long will it take to get there?"

Krake gave him a look of surprise. "I thought you knew that all waveship trips take about the same time—a few days at most."

"That's />?"

Krake shook his head. "You haven't understood time dilation, have you? When the ship is in wave-drive it is traveling at the velocity of light. Time is maximally dilated. That is," he explained, "as far as we're concerned, it simply stops. To travel a light-year takes one year of elapsed time, yes. But that's the galaxy's time. We don't feel it. That's why waveship navigation is so tricky; you don't know how long youVe been traveling, except by instruments."

Sork was beginning to forget his disagreeable interview with the Turdes. Fascinated, he asked, "And you can teach us how to read these instruments?"

"Of course," Marco Ramos called. "That's what Moon's doing now. Come and learn too!"

When you are in the process of achieving your heart's desire other things dwindle in importance. Exhausted as Sork Quintero was, hungry as he still was, he was flying. He was piloting a spaceship. He was living out in his real life the most unattainable hope of his dreams, and it was all real. Sork wore a foolish smile on his face as he sat there, now and then remembering to take a bite of the sandwich in his hand.

Yes, it was true. The instruments before him were the veritable control-board toggles and dials of an authentic waveship. It didn't matter that there was nothing to do, really, since there was no reason to change course in midflight. He was where he had wanted to be, and nothing else existed for Sork Quintero at that moment. It wasn't until Sue-ling Quong had put a friendly hand on Sork's shoulder that he realized she had come into the room—and a moment after that before he remembered what he had to tell her.

Then the dream collapsed. He looked up into her friendly blue eyes and swallowed before he spoke.

"Don't get mad," he said, "but—" He had to swallow again before he could finish, dismally, "I told the Turtles I'd help them understand the lecture chips."

She looked at him with astonishment. As she opened her mouth to ask a question, he forestalled her. "It was the only thing I could do, Sue-ling. I couldn't help it. They threatened to put us off on some out-of-the-way planet if I didn't."

"Have you given them the chips?"

"No! I didn't give them anything . . . but I played a couple of them with them, and I tried to explain what some of the words meant." He cleared his throat unhappily. "What else could I do?"

She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. Her lips had been open to speak, but now she closed them firmly. She needed to think before she said something she might regret . . . and, she thought irritably, how often was it that she had to do that with Sork Quintero.

"Did I do wrong?" he demanded. Sue-ling shook herself.

"No," she said, "I suppose not. Actually, I think we all have to hear those chips now, Sork."

His brows drew down in a question. "Why all of us? You surely don't mean everybody—even that child from New Mexico?"

"Even Moon," she said. "Even her pet Taur, if she wants him to." Sue-ling gave a nod for emphasis that made her coppery hair swing around her head. "If there's anything important there, we should all hear it—and try to figure out what it means. When's your next session with them?"

"After I get some sleep. I convinced them I just couldn't go on without it . . . although," he began, his expression changing.

She cut him off. "That will be fine. I'll tell the others what we're going to do. Now I think you're right about the sleep; you look like hell. Go put your head down until I call you."

He looked at her in a different way, but not a way that was unfamiliar to Sue-ling. "Absolutely," he said, putting his hand gently on her cheek, and she knew what was coming next.

He pulled her toward him, nuzzling against her hair. To the top of her head he whispered, "I do need sleep, but what I need most of all is to make another dream come true. Do you know what that dream is, dearest Sue-ling? I've had it for years. It's just the two of us, you and I, sharing the space between the stars as we love each other, and go on loving each other, and—"

She pulled away and put a gentle finger on his lips. "No, Sork," she said kindly.

He jerked his head away from her hand, his expression wounded. "But— But it's my turn," he said childishly.

She bit down hard on her lip before she answered. Then, drawing a breath, she said, as quietly as she could, "Three things, Sork. First, you're wrong. The last time I made love it was with you, not Kiri. Second, nobody gets a 'turn' with me. I'm not a playground toy, and you're not a child—or shouldn't be. And, third, no. Just no. Go get some sleep. We've got a lot to do before we get to the Mother planet."

There are songs that the aiodoi listen to very carefully, for they touch on things that the aiodoi know well—even when they come from an ancient poet-scientist who was scratching at only the outermost surface of the meaning of his song:

"We've talked about some curiosities of dimensions. Today we're going to talk about forces.

"If you want a definition of a 'force,' try this: 'A force is that which makes things do things.'

"For instance: If you hold a magnet over a pile of paperclips, you can pick the clips up. The force that makes the clips cling to the magnet is called magnetism. If you turn on a switch and send a current through a bulb, you get light. That current is the force that is called electricity.

"Those two, however, aren't two different forces. They are only one. A long time ago scientists proved that they were

only manifestations of the same thing, which is called the electromagnetic force.

"That's one force. There are, in all of nature as we see it today, only three others.

"The second force is the one that holds you to the surface of the Earth and keeps the Earth from flying into space away from the Sun. That one is called the force of gravity.

"Then there are two other forces. You don't notice them much in everyday life, because they mostly have to do only with things that go on inside the structure of atoms. They do exist, though. Their names are 'the strong force' and 'the weak force.'

"I am not, at least not right now, going to tell you about the ways in which these four forces relate to each other. Right now they seem to be quite different—although, actually, some scientists have tried to write equations which link them together; that was one of the things that drove poor Albert Einstein to distraction in the last years of his life, because he thought he should be able to do that, and he wasn't.

"Long ago, though, they weren't different at all.

"If you remember your plate tectonics courses, you'll recall that once there was a time when most of the present continents of Earth were joined together in one big continent called Gondwanaland. They didn't stay joined together. As the plates migrated the continents split apart, and as a result we have the map of the globe that we all know and love so well today.

"In somewhat the same way, those four present-day forces were once a single force.

"That was a long time ago—back in Planck time, way back at the beginning of our universe, only the flicker of a gnat's eye after the Big Bang itself. At that time there wasn't any separate force called 'gravity' or 'electromagnetism.' There was just one force that included all of them, and it has a name.

"Its name is 'superforce.'

"What is the superforce? It is the basic and overriding force in the universe. It is the force that can do anything to everything. It is what generated everything we know and see everywhere. As Paul Davies says about it, the superforce 'is ultimately responsible for generating all forces and all physical structures.' If we could control the superforce, there is nothing we could not do.

"So says Paul Davies. But then he goes on to say that to achieve the superforce you need to attain what he calls 'the Planck energy'—more energy than you can imagine—and that, he says, is impossible.

"But wouldn't it be pretty if we could?"

And the aiodoi sang lovingly: "Why not?"