Eye of the Comet Page 4

  “I know he does. Anyway, he would be helpless without the mindpowers Earthfolk have. And I cannot return because I have such powers.”

  Lydee leaned forward. “But how can that be?”

  “As some on Earth are born without them, some here are born with them. Homesmind must think such qualities are worth preserving, though I don’t know why — we lack the means of using such powers here.” Etey shook her head. “On Earth, I heard voices inside me over which I had no control and saw impossible things. I could not hide my thoughts. I would be in danger if I returned.”

  Lydee was silent. She had only to remain on the Wanderer and live her life; surely that required little courage.

  “I once thought —” Etey paused.

  “What did you think?”

  “That there might be another reason for your being among us, that Homesmind had a purpose for bringing you up, that you might in time be a bridge to Earth, in a way. But now I think we’ll forget Earth, as we did before.”

  Lydee grimaced. “No one will let me forget.”

  “Don’t be foolish.” Etey sounded disdainful. “You’ll be a curiosity for a while, that’s all. Unless, of course, you are determined to make us remember.” She stood up and waved the globe away. “Farewell, Lydee.” She pressed her belt and drifted up, flying out over the lake.

  This is my home, Lydee told herself, clinging to the thought. She was ashamed of her emotional display; she would prove to everyone that she was no different from any civilized being. Earth was only a name. When she was as old as Etey, her origins would no longer seem as important.

  “Take down the tent,” she said to the golden crab.

  At last, Homesmind whispered. I was afraid you might persist in your self-imposed exile.

  “No,” she said. “I’ll go home now.”

  4

  She was in a desert. The air shimmered, rippling the flat, dry land; the sun seemed to fill the sky. Bones were strewn on the ground; mounds of dirt hid other bodies. A large bird perched on a skull and stared at her with beady eyes. Lydee screamed.

  She was awake, back in her bed. She forced her eyes open; if she closed them, she would find herself back in the desert. Arms held her.

  “Lydee,” Reiho’s voice said in the dark, “what’s wrong?”

  She clung to him, her fingers digging into his arm. “I’m all right.” Her body was growing calmer; she relaxed. “Homesmind will have to provide some dreams for me — I can’t sleep with my own. I keep seeing Earth.”

  She stretched out again. The bed’s surface flowed under her, cradling her. Reiho held her hand.

  “Perhaps you shouldn’t have viewed it,” he said at last. “You knew what you needed to know. You didn’t have to experience those things.”

  “I had to try. I won’t anymore. I know why Earth frightens you now.”

  Earlier, Homesmind had shown her part of Daiya’s life. It had stored the Earthgirl’s experiences inside Itself along with the records of the lives of Home’s inhabitants It had always kept. But Daiya, unlike the cometdwellers, had not shielded her deepest feelings from Homesmind, and It had recorded them as well.

  Lydee had not only seen Earth through Daiya’s eyes, but had also touched her emotions. She had viewed only a few incidents before closing her link, but the images persisted: sheer-faced mountains hiding the pillars holding Earth’s cybernetic Minds, a village of huts with grassy roofs, people with physical deformities — thinning hair, wrinkled faces, sagging bodies. Worst of all had been the desert, where some of Daiya’s friends had died undergoing the rite the Earthfolk called an “ordeal.” The emotions of rage, fear, and despair had underscored the visions.

  “She cared for you,” Lydee murmured. “I saw enough to grasp that. But there was one she longed for, a boy in her village. It felt almost as if she wanted to swallow him, to make his thoughts hers. Love is an illness there.” Even her own feelings had never been that strong.

  “Perhaps.” Reiho sighed. “And yet I sometimes feel I can understand it.”

  Lydee could not. She had felt what she called love for Pilo and Jerod and Reiho himself, but they would all love others as well. Earthpeople formed pairs, reaching out to others only when they were old; that much she had understood from Daiya’s thoughts.

  “Once,” her mentor continued, “that young Reiho thought that this world and Earth would grow closer, that we would learn from one another. We would give them our science, and they would offer their visions, their dream of being united in one vast mind. He even believed that a way might be found for those of us without powers to acquire them. But he was only a boy.”

  “It might still happen.” Even as she spoke, she heard the insincerity in her voice. Daiya’s own mother and father, a woman named Anra and a man called Brun, had been willing to have their own child die to preserve Earth’s ways; she had seen that much in Homesmind’s re-creation of Daiya’s life. If Earthfolk would sacrifice their own young in such a cause, they were hardly likely to reach out to cometdwellers.

  “We should have left this system,” Reiho said. “There’s nothing for us here. It would have been easier for you, too. Earth would be distant.”

  “I may leave this system anyway. My friends think we should seed our own comet.” She paused. “But they might not want me with them now.”

  “Oh, they will.” He stroked her hair. “Sleep, Lydee. Dream other dreams.”

  * * *

  The shuttle dropped toward Home. The comet’s tail pointed away from the sun; the Wanderer would soon cross Earth’s orbital path once more. A jungle of giant trees obscured the distant blue globe.

  Lydee glanced at Pilo, who was at her side. He had been gazing intently at Earth before the comet’s trees had blocked it from view.

  “Do you ever want to go to Earth?” he said casually. “I mean, now that you know.” He cleared his throat.

  “I certainly don’t.”

  “Not that I think you should, of course.” His voice sounded almost too earnest.

  “They don’t want any of us there in the first place, and it would be dangerous. You’ve viewed what Homesmind knows about Earth, haven’t you?”

  “No, I haven’t viewed it.” She turned toward him, surprised. He smiled. He smiled whenever she looked at him, as Jerod and Nara and Tila smiled. She was beginning to dislike their solicitude. They smiled so often and spoke so gently in their efforts to show her that they still cared for her that she was starting to think she was being patronized. Perhaps they feared her, deep down. “I doubt I’ll ever look at those records of Earth,” Pilo finished.

  “Why not?”

  “They really don’t interest me.” His smile widened.

  She turned away. He did not have to explain it; she could guess why he hadn’t looked. He could accept her story of her origins and dismiss it, at least consciously; it had been only words. But if he viewed Earth through Daiya’s eyes, he would see Lydee only as another savage and would never be at ease with her again. He had already seen how easily she could fall into a primitive state during her time by the lake.

  Another shuttle darted in front of them, then fell toward the trees. Jerod was piloting that ship; he often overrode the shuttle’s piloting system to take control himself. The small, domed vehicle dipped toward a leaf, becoming a speck against the green; one of its long runners brushed against the leaf. Lydee watched calmly. Jerod was in no real danger; the shuttle’s pilot would take over if he grew too reckless.

  Her link hummed softly as her own ship passed through an opening in the energy field surrounding the comet; the field closed behind her. Only light could penetrate the field that protected the Wanderer. Her shuttle fell past leaves and stems; mirrored surfaces gleamed among the green. Through the tree limbs, oxygen was channeled into the trunks and then down to the roots in which the people of Home lived. The broad leaves captured sunlight; the roots drew moisture from the comet they entwined. Long ago, the cometdwellers had kept within the solar system, dependent
on the sun’s light, but in time innovations had made it possible for the trees to store their energy and for people to control a comet’s path. They had been able to travel at speeds faster than light throughout this part of the galaxy for hundreds of years, replenishing their energy as they orbited other stars. Space was their ocean, the stars their ports.

  The leaves had vanished; they were now among tree trunks. Through her link, Lydee felt as though the shuttle was part of her, an extension of her body. She took control for a moment, circling a trunk before continuing to fall. The shuttle swooped toward a root, approaching a tiny, lighted space which grew into a lighted cave and then a large, bright room. They flew on, soaring through a wide passageway until they came to a plain of grass, where they landed next to a field of shuttlecraft.

  The doors of the shuttle slid open; Lydee and Pilo jumped out. Jerod had already landed; he hurried toward them, taking Lydee’s arm. She offered her other arm to Pilo. A dark-haired woman was climbing into one shuttle; she stared at Lydee, who tensed. Those living in the caves near hers had stared at her in the same way, as if they had never seen her before, when she had returned from the lake.

  They crossed the shuttle field, moving toward the garden that bordered it. The flowers nodded at them as they drew near; one red blossom detached itself from its stem and floated toward them. Jerod released her, caught the rose, bowed, and presented it; Lydee tucked it behind her ear.

  She sat in the grass near one flower bed; Pilo and Jerod sat near her. The two boys were smiling again, showing their teeth. Jerod touched her hand, then glanced at Pilo; the dark-haired boy got up and wandered away.

  “I’m better at piloting,” Jerod said. “The shuttle rarely overrides me now.”

  “Good for you.” She too was smiling, feeling as though her face would crack.

  “We could take a shuttle to Earth’s moon. No one would mind that. We could explore the ruins, the catacombs.”

  “It wouldn’t be wise even to go there.”

  Jerod’s smile faded. His blue eyes gazed at her a little too intently, and she looked away. Pilo had disappeared among the flowers.

  “They read minds on Earth,” Jerod murmured. “They don’t just link to have conversations, or exchange surface thoughts — they can touch all of a mind.”

  “So can people here.” She wondered why he had mentioned it. “Some old ones link that way sometimes.”

  “Earth is different. I’ve seen what Homesmind knows. I’ve seen the record of the one who gave you to this world. I never knew a mind could be so wild, could feel so much.”

  She was suddenly afraid. Before she could reply, Jerod grabbed her, clawing roughly at her arms. She tried to twist away. He pinned her to the ground, gripping her shoulders; his jaw tightened. He was probing her link, trying to touch her thoughts. She closed the link, but not before she had flooded him with her fear. Reaching up, she pushed him away with one shaking hand.

  He sprawled on the ground, covering his face. “What are you doing?” she cried out.

  “I wanted to —” He shook his head. A man and a woman were strolling toward them; the man glanced at Lydee and Jerod, took the woman’s hand, and led her hastily away toward a lattice of vines. “I wanted to touch your thoughts. Forgive me, Lydee. I didn’t know what I was doing. The images of Earth must have infected me somehow.”

  “It wasn’t that,” she replied. “It was me. I’m just another Earth creature to you — that’s how you see me now.”

  “Oh, no. I’m in balance now. It won’t happen again.”

  She stood up. “No, it won’t. I won’t let it.” She thumbed her belt and rose from the ground.

  “Wait,” Jerod called out, floating after her. “Don’t be angry with me. Please say you’ll forget.” He flew at her side, gesturing plaintively with his hands. She reached for the flower he had given her, letting it flutter from her fingers; the blossom drifted toward the ground.

  She flew on, Jerod following her. At last he dipped toward the ground and she soared on, alone.

  * * *

  As Lydee entered her cave, she saw that Reiho had a visitor. Her mentor sat on one mushroom, legs folded; Etey was seated on the ground near him.

  “I was about to call to you,” Reiho said.

  Lydee sat down across from him. “I’ve just found out how my closest friends are going to treat me from now on. I suppose they couldn’t hide their feelings forever. Pilo’s still afraid of me, though he won’t admit it. But Jerod isn’t afraid anymore — he’d like his own pet savage.” Realizing that she was glaring at the two, she tried to compose herself.

  “Forget your petty problems,” Etey said. “We have more important matters to concern us now. Your problems will pass.”

  Lydee turned toward Reiho, noticing the worried look on his face. “What is it?” she asked, suddenly concerned.

  “Daiya has called to Homesmind from Earth. She seeks Its aid.” Reiho frowned. “She believes her village is now threatened.”

  Lydee lifted a hand to her mouth. “But how?”

  “Recently, her people have tried to touch the minds of other people in other villages. In order to do that, the older villagers, those whose minds are strongest, must link their thoughts and reach out to others far away. They have not been able to do so since Etey and I left Earth, but a short time ago, they managed to contact a village far to the north. As soon as the people there touched the thoughts of Daiya’s people, they broke off the contact.”

  “Why would they do that?” Lydee asked.

  “Because they believe Daiya’s village to be contaminated. The people there had contact with us, you see, and we are believed to be an evil. ‘Separate selves,’ they call us, beings who cannot touch other minds and become part of what they call a ‘Net.’ The other villages of Earth fear being infected by our evil.”

  Reiho glanced at Etey, who was watching Lydee dispassionately. “Daiya has now discovered that there is a wall around her village, an invisible barrier,” Reiho went on. “No one can move more than three or four days’ travel from the town. She thinks that the other villages have placed the wall around them, and she fears what may happen next.”

  “Can’t Homesmind help them?” Lydee asked, worried in spite of herself.

  “The Minds of the pillars will watch over the village, I am sure,” Etey replied. “Homesmind can do little. But Daiya’s people are afraid. They know that Daiya has called to us. They must be very frightened to have allowed that, for they are still suspicious of us, and wary.”

  Lydee’s concern was fading; Earth’s troubles had nothing to do with her. “But we can’t help them.”

  “She has asked Reiho to return,” Etey said. Reiho was staring at the door; his hands were trembling.

  “But what can he do?”

  Reiho stood up and began to pace the room. “I can’t,” he whispered. “My former self died there. The thread of my life was broken there. I fear it too much.” He looked up. “She calls for a Reiho who no longer exists.”

  “You can’t go, then,” Lydee said. “She must understand that. You can’t help her. Let them take care of themselves.”

  Etey gazed at Reiho. “Lydee is right. You should stay here. Of course, the fear will still be with you. You’ll run from it rather than face it. You think you can escape it here.” She shrugged. “Someone else died, not you — believing you did is an illusion. Well, you’d be of no use there. Tell Daiya you must stay here. She asked us not to interfere before, so remind her of that and tell her that she must fight her own battles. She still has the Minds of her world to help her.”

  Reiho glared at his former mentor. “You’re saying I’m a coward.”

  “I know you are. The Reiho who died wasn’t. That in itself proves that you are not he.”

  “She didn’t ask you to return, Etey.”

  “That’s true. So of course my words mean nothing. Isn’t that so?”

  Lydee crossed her arms, disturbed by the open show of anger. “Reih
o’s my mentor,” she said. “He should stay here, with me. I doubt that anyone else will especially want to replace him, and I’d rather not live alone.”

  Someone will have to go, Homesmind whispered inside all three of them.

  Etey started; Reiho sat down abruptly.

  The Mindcores of Earth have not spoken to Me for some time, Homesmind continued. They have not shared everything with Me and have been silent about recent events. I do not understand this, and would like to have one linked with Me present on Earth.

  “But you can speak to Daiya,” Reiho said.

  That is true. The Mindcores there have left a channel to Their power open, though Their voices no longer speak to Me, and through that channel, I can hear Daiya. But there is always a chance that that link will be broken. I wish to observe Earth, especially now. One linked to Me should travel there.

  “Don’t ask this of me,” Reiho pleaded.

  There is another who could go. Lydee is Daiya’s sister. Daiya will accept her in Reiho’s place.

  Lydee gasped. Reiho seemed stunned. Etey’s brown eyes were cold, as always.

  “She’s hardly more than a child,” Reiho said. “You can’t ask that of her. Surely out of all the people here, you can find someone else.”

  The old ones could not endure having their thoughts revealed to the Earthfolk, and the younger ones would be strangers to Daiya. She needs one who might be a friend. If you are so concerned for Lydee, then go to Earth yourself, or accompany her there.

  Reiho covered his brow with one hand; Lydee could see his shame. He might argue with Homesmind, but he would not act.

  I knew that Earth could not remain as it is. Homesmind went on. I did not expect anyone to call to Me so soon, but it has happened. Perhaps it is time, Lydee. You once imagined that you might return to the world that was once your home.

  “That was before I knew it was Earth.”

  Does that matter?

  “You knew,” Lydee said. “You knew all along that you were going to send me back someday.”