Here on Planet £ was the finest functioning Ancient site known. Herald only hoped it was not yet known to the Amoeba. If it was, he was about to commit suicide. And maybe that would be fitting.
He whirled his body slowly, setting his feet down in order, progressing along the trail to the great bog of jelly. Melody of Mintaka had trod a similar trail a thousand years ago, on her way to the first opening of this site, and the resulting victory for her Galaxy. Could Herald do likewise?
Now he was descending into the bog. The atmosphere thickened into viscosity, impeding progress, but his host was adequate to the need. Herald regretted leaving the prismatic feather trees behind. He knew they broke the sunlight into its component hues so that each species could utilize its particular wavelength, but to him it was a tremendously artistic thing, a wilderness mural in light. The bog, in contrast, was deepening into gray, then black, as all light was excluded. He had to use senses other than sight to avoid the greater nether branches of the lattice that crisscrossed the bog at different levels, and he also stayed clear of the aromatic scentwood trunks, so valuable for construction. He was here for quite another purpose!
What, he wondered, had Melody discovered in this deep site that she refused ever to reveal? Every time he thought he had figured it out, he considered some more and was sure he was still ignorant. It was a bit like Hweeh of Weew's reflex of shock, concealing important information to protect individual or society. Yet did any individual have the right to make such a decision?
Hweeh had gone to a lot of trouble to make this venture of Herald's possible. The Weew had Transferred back to his own Segment to "pull strings" as he put it, causing the Minister of Weew to confer with the Minister of Dash, who in turn allowed this intrusion into this closely guarded region. Perhaps each had been motivated as much by private curiosity about the site, as by the alleged threat to the Cluster that Herald hoped to abate. So he was here, and there would be one other entity here—and he had resolved not only to save the Cluster, but to tell the truth, whatever it might be. Knowledge was the root of all power.
He came at last to the deep site: a depression in the dark liquid bottom of the bog. And here he met his selected partner for the necessary ceremony of admission: a high-Kirlian female Transferred to £ host. For the site opened only in the presence of a super-Kirlian mating. And there was only one such female that the Cluster Council would let him have.
—Hello, Herald of Slash,— she vibrated, her skin making the sound in the liquid medium.
—Hello, Flame of Furnace,— he replied with difficulty. —I regret that we have had to meet in this manner.—
—Apology noted, accepted,— she responded with a certain humor, for she well knew it had been no apology. —I am aware it was not precisely your preference. Had it not been a Cluster imperative, I would not have come.—
Herald touched her briefly with the tip of one tentacle, feeling her aura. It was 190, the strongest natural one he had ever encountered. Apart from Psyche! Only one entity in a major galaxy in a thousand years broke 200; she was of the one-in-a-century variety, which was still quite respectable.
—You understand the details?— he asked —The risk?— Maybe she would balk!
—The Amoeba that formed beyond my Galaxy (Furnace was hardly a galaxy, but no doubt its sapients felt otherwise!) will destroy us all if we do not evoke Ancient science to oppose it. The Amoeba may destroy this site as we evoke it. But it may be our only chance, now, for the Amoeba will soon destroy life in the Cluster regardless.—
—you have intelligence and courage,— he said, beginning to soften toward her. This was the female that had stood in the way of his social freedom. He had been ready to perform his duty by her, in order to legitimize his marriage to Psyche, except that he feared Psyche's reaction to that. So he had made application to have the requirement nullified. Then Psyche had died. Flame was in no way to blame for Psyche's fate, yet it was complicated, now, to interact with her. He didn't want to like her!
—Not very much courage, Herald. Let us proceed quickly. I fear the strike of the Amoeba.—
Let us proceed. Again that unfortunately sensitive expression, throwing him once more into his chaos of guilt and rationalization. Proceed, as he had proceeded with Jet Sixteen in the purely business mergence that had been invalidated by his later discovery that it had not been business for her. The concept had turned him off Hellflower of Modern, and served to gut much of whatever emotion he felt here. Why did he have to suffer these reminders of his errors?
But the Cluster hung in the balance.
—You realize the nature of the ceremony we must perform?—
—Of course. We must mate on the site aperture.—
—Yes. There need be no love in this action, and there is none.— But that, too, had an uncomfortable ring, for he had also said it to Sixteen.
—I am glad you understand, Herald.—
Glad he understood? The vagaries of the female viewpoint!
They proceeded to it without further discussion; efficient copulation, performed for purely practical consideration. Herald tried to abolish the lurking picture in his mind of Sixteen, who had pretended not to love him so as to leave him free. But it was only replaced by the image of Psyche, void of that pretense but as awkward in its way, for he was betraying her. She lived! She had to live! What use to save the Cluster, if she were not in it?
But in his deeper emotion he knew this was not Psyche, but her antithesis. His copulation puncture mechanism balked. He was sexually impotent.
—I am unable,— Herald admitted. —I love another.—
—I admit to being relieved,— Flame vibrated. —I also love another.—
Was this scripted by Sixteen, or did all females lie on demand? He was sick of all of it! —The survival of our culture requires—
—Herald, I approached this necessity without illusion. Now illusion is developing. I had anticipated a more callous personality in you, one that would never be balked by considerations of feeling. You, after all, are the Kirlian, the one like no other ever known, rightfully secure in your arrogance. One never touched by the tragedies of emotion.—
—That is illusion!—
—Perhaps. As I perceive a somewhat more feeling entity than I thought existed, my indifference thaws. It may be that I will not regret mating with you, even if the effort proves to be wasted. I had also underestimated the appeal of your fine aura.—
—Then I abate your developing illusion and thawing indifference. I am a healer; my aura makes entities well. If you have suffered, my aura helps alleviate that suffering, in turn allowing the body to heal itself. But this denotes no virtue in me. While we tried, I thought of Psyche, who was burned to death but whom I still love and mean to recover.—
—I thought of Fuel, my love whom I was not permitted to marry because of you, and who perished horribly in a pit of ice.—
She, too! Ice, to the hot sapients of Furnace, was the ultimate horror. —I did not know,— Herald vibrated, sorry, finding that he was coming to believe her. Why should she even want to deceive him? Their relation had been defined in their early youth, and what either believed about the other had little relevance. —I blamed the fire, and you are a creature of fire. I wronged you.—
—No more than I wronged you. Fuel was trapped in his pursuit of a heraldic device carved in ice. I associated you with that concept.—
Heraldic device! He felt abrupt sorrow for the fate of Fuel of Furnace, a kindred entity. —Had we understood each other better, we could have discharged this obligation long ago, and both been free. Neither of us were able to consider rationally.—
—It was my error,— she vibrated. —I refused to travel to Sphere Slash. Perhaps I resisted you because my commitment to Fuel was not complete. I used you as a pretext.—
—Don't say that!— Herald vibrated. —You were never false to your love! While I— He broke off, obsessed by the memory of Sixteen. He had made love to the Jet female!
—You were not false to yours, either; I am sure of it.—
—But I was! I took a mistress.—
—So you took a mistress! Did you love her?—
—No. She was low aura.—
—Then what does it matter? She represented no possible threat to your love. I could never love a low-Kirlian either. Fuel was one hundred and forty.—
Herald paused, sorting through his mixed feelings, ready to be moved by her logic. It was Kirlian logic! —That's right! I took her as mistress because the occasion necessitated it, and it was inconceivable that she replace Psyche.—
—So you were not false. Herald, I like you better, now. Shall we try again?—
—No!—
—Is your loyalty to the Cluster so slight?—
—I was not false to Psyche. I was false to Sixteen, the low-Kirlian female. She loved me, and I used her. How can I respect myself now?—
—You cannot deceive a sapient female in this manner, not even a low-Kirlian one. She surely knew what she was doing. Knowing love was impossible, she took what was offered. If that is all that restrains you, be reassured.—
Herald considered again, further swayed by her reasoning. But still he balked. —You are not low-Kirlian. You are my most likely love in the Cluster. I dare not touch you.—
—I assure you, there is no real danger of love between us! I have not forgotten Fuel of Furnace, and never will. I mentioned him only to explain my situation.—
—You lie, Flame! You loved Fuel because he was the highest aura you encountered, even as I loved Psyche. Had his aura been a mere ten or fifteen, you would never have noticed him, regardless of his other merits. I do not question those merits. I am sure he was deserving, as much so as my Psyche. But it was aura alone that compelled you to choose him from a thousand other deserving entities. Now my aura moves you regardless of your will, as yours moves me. You and I are Kirlians, a type apart. We can love each other, and shall love each other, if we do not separate soon. Then we would both be false.—
—To our dead loves,— she finished with acerbity. —Herald, can it be so wrong? We only recognize reality at last—
—My love is not dead!— he exclaimed, experiencing a wash of emotion that shook him. —She lives, somewhere in this Ancient network, and I must recover her!—
—Very well, she lives. And to free her, you must mate with me. Would you rather leave her locked in the tomb of the Ancients forever?—
Never that! —It is a paradox! To save her, it seems I must betray her!—
—Think of it this way: The fire took her from you. It is fitting that Flame bring her back. If I could restore my Fuel similarly, I would not hesitate.—
—It would be more fitting that my low-Kirlian mistress perform that service.—
—So you do love the mistress, too,— Flame vibrated knowingly.
—No!— But honesty compelled him to reconsider. —She has an aura so low it can hardly be measured. As far beneath norm as mine is above it. Yet she is a worthy sapient, intelligent, feeling, competent. I wronged her not by taking her as mistress in my hour of need, but by denying her my love. I think— He broke off for a moment, surprised. —I think Psyche herself would have wanted me to give that love, in that circumstance.—
—There is a corollary.—
He came to it with a certain difficulty. —If she were to grant that love... she would by similar token grant this love.—
—Our Kirlian nature enables us to compromise,— Flame vibrated. —After this mission is done, if we both survive, and if you have not recovered your high-Kirlian true love, I will on occasion animate your low-Kirlian false love. We need make no apologies for such a liaison.—
—That will not be necessary,— Herald said with sudden decision. —We have our liaison here.—
He found himself potent, and completed the act.
Afterward, they stood together on the Ancient disk, waiting for the site to respond.
—It would be ironic if nothing happened now,— Flame vibrated gently.
—Or if too much happened, like an Amoeba strike,— he added. —But regardless, it was worthwhile, of itself. I love others, but I could love you also, in other circumstances.—
—And I you,— she agreed. —I would not even exclude this circumstance.—
—You have helped me to know myself, as my friend Hweeh has done, and to comprehend some of the impact I have on others.—
—Your friend Hweeh?—
—Hweeh of Swees of Segment Weew. He is the leading research astronomer of the Cluster, and a fine intelligent entity, with an aura of one hundred and twenty-five. He enabled me to come here, since this locale is restricted, by exerting influence in his Segment.—
—I thought I recognized the name. The Minister of Furnace told me that he was acting on behalf of the clearance made by an astronomer of Weew. I had wondered how Weew entered the picture.—
—That is a long story. The threat of the Amoeba is being contemplated by a Cluster committee, and—
—A committee! Are they serious?—
—That's why we had to—
He was interrupted suddenly.
The disk on which they stood started to sink; the site was opening!
—Suppose we remain locked inside forever, as Melody of Milky Way and Dash of Andromeda were?— Flame inquired nervously.
—This I would define as an 'other circumstance,'— he vibrated. —Then we should be lovers, eternally.—
—No offense intended to you, but I prefer that we complete the mission.—
The aperture spiraled closed above them as they spiraled down. Gas pushed out the water. They stood in a bare cylindrical chamber.
The wall faded into inchoate color. This was a form of animation: reflection of the thoughts of the visitors, overlapping each other until they controlled it.
Now they could not converse sonically, for the £ hide did not vibrate properly in air. But Herald knew what to do. He summoned a controlled animation: a visio-sonic communications unit. The thing rolled into proximity from the nebulous background.
"Communicate," Herald made it say in Clustric, as the machine-screen formed his own image, a Slash.
"Where are the bones?" Flame asked in the same language. Her self-image was of a winding tongue of fire. Her body was semisolid, but its surface bore oil that burned, providing heat energy for the internal functions. She was beautiful.
"Bones?"
"The hosts of Melody and Dash never emerged from this site. Only their auras returned. After a thousand years, the £ bodies—" The screen showed a pile of huge £ bones in disarray, with little incendiary flies, fireflies, scorching out bits of desiccated flesh. Her image of death.
Grisly thought! "The remains could have been incinerated completely or dissolved by the site maintenance mechanism. Or they might have been preserved intact by inert gas, sterile, and lifted to the surface on the same platform-shift that brought us down here. We are not in a position to know."
"Strange that a creature as cognizant as Melody of Mintaka should desert her innocent host in a place like this, permitting her to die of hunger and confinement."
That bothered Herald too. "What happened to the two prior hosts?" he demanded of the image-machine. Maybe the site itself would answer.
It did. By a rapid series of images it told how the £ had been given suitable food refined by the site equipment, and granted visions of all the beautiful things they could imagine, creating a kind of perceptual paradise. It was not reality, but it had been a good deal more satisfying than many realities were. They had lived a long time before dying natural deaths.
"It was an idle question," Flame said. "But I am glad to have the answer. It seems the Ancients were not cruel." She looked about at the changing images around them. "We should get on with the mission, before the Amoeba does. I suffer premonitions of impending doom."
"It is not necessary for you to risk yourself further," Herald told her. "Now that you have enab
led me to enter the site, you can Transfer directly back to your natural host in Furnace, assured that your £ host will not suffer."
Her image flared with irritation. "While the Amoeba bombs this site and attempts to eliminate you," she replied. "If the enemy succeeds, the entire Cluster will be sterilized, including Furnace. I have nothing to gain by going home before the job is done."
Herald liked her better and better. "Then help me search. I must discover the technology of the Ancients, and how to apply it rapidly, and get that information to Cluster specialists. You can zero in on the secret Melody of Mintaka would not tell. It must have relevance to the contemporary situation."
"Let me remain here, interrogating the unit. You must Transfer elsewhere, where the Amoeba cannot trace you."
She was offering to be decoy, and he had to accept. "If the site is attacked, go home immediately," he told her. "I will Transfer to my own body in Slash, or some other convenient host, from whatever site I occupy."
"You will occupy a site? There would be no host there!"
No living host. His whole personal quest was based on the assumption that the sites could be occupied by auras. If Psyche lived, she was in an Ancient site, using it as a host, maintaining herself through constant enhancement of her aura. If she had done it, he could do it. If she had not then he did not want to live. This was the critical test. "My aura will imbue the Ancient equipment itself. I will have its secrets... from within."
"May you succeed," the image-Flame whispered, amazed. She did not say what she obviously thought: impossible.