Mission to Minerva

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Frenua Showm's home and its setting could conceivably have provided the inspiration for a Wagnerian crescendo of full orchestra and chorus ringing out terror and magnificence in a minor key. It was not a single structure sitting on one level in the way that most Terrans would have thought of as a "house," but consisted of a number of interconnected units distributed across a prominence of rocky crags looking out over a breathtaking Thurien scene of plummeting gorges and near-vertical precipices rising toward distant bastions of jagged peaks. "Villa" might have been a better term to describe it. Although no two parts were at the same height, moving from one to another was speedy and effortless, thanks to the inbuilt system of g-lines that came as part of most Thurien structures. The spaces between provided harmonizing chords of rocky watergardens filled with Thurien flora and greenery, and included a pool held by natural rock forms, warmed to producing a hint of vapors at its surface and fed by a cascading waterfall.

Mildred didn't yet know if it was a general Thurien trait, but it seemed that Showm kept the different aspects of her life separate and apart, as if each functioned in its own exclusive compartment of her awareness, where it could enjoy the full focus of her attention for whatever time she was disposed to allot to it. When she was engaged in tasks connected with her ambassadorial role in Calazar's administration, she worked tirelessly and single mindedly, permitting no distraction. When she turned to the interests that she pursued to express her creative instincts, which ranged from writing a revision of Earth's history in the light of the now-revealed Jevlenese deceptions to creating neurally composed thought music that acted on the emotions directly as lucidly as sound upon the senses, Calazar and politics would be as far away from her thoughts as the star systems that most of such affairs pertained to. And when her mind sought the times of quiet and contemplation that all Thuriens looked upon as essential to a meaningful existence, if not the very point of it, she withdrew totally into herself and it was as if none of the rest existed. Her abode separated itself out to reflect those same functions. It was in a way, Mildred found herself thinking, a symbolic rendering in program-grown organics, metal-ceramic composites, and opto-active crystal, of Frenua's life.

The part they were in now, Mildred took to be the abode of the contemplative and relaxing Frenua. It was the high point of the layout, an eagle's eyrie of two spacious rooms to the rear of a deck projecting out over the abyss below the promontory into which the house had been blended. The shell enclosing the deck could be varied from place to place in transparency and in hue to take on any combination of the functions of windows and wall. At the moment it was predominantly clear, giving an uninterrupted view out over two vast gorges diverging away on either side below, each carrying a portion of the flow from an immense system of waterfalls tumbling down a facing wall of mountain that must have been several miles away, amid a permanent cloud of mist tinted faintly orange by the angle of the sun. The only things missing, Mildred thought, were flying dragons circling among the peaks, and Tolkeinesque castles clinging impossibly to the skyline.

They sat in a lowered area of the floor on the very edge of the structure, in a crescent-shaped bay of outsize Ganymean seating that faced out over the chasm. It reminded Mildred of a helicopter she'd been in once, and when they first sat down had produced the same reaction of mild vertigo. She had said nothing, but reassured herself with the thought that if Thurien engineering could bring them all safely from Earth in a matter of days and beam energy invisibly from one part of the Galaxy to another, their constructions ought to remain where they put them. The meal had been a thin but tasty soup, not unlike lentil, followed by a mixed vegetable preparation on a pastalike base, vaguely reminiscent of quiche, and a dessert of chilled fruit pudding with a honey sauce. They finished with a selection of cheeses and breads, accompanied by a sweet and tangy, pale green Thurien concoction which from the slight headiness that Mildred found herself experiencing after a second glass, contained a functional surrogate for alcohol molecules.

"I don't know why those scientists are making so much fuss about it," Mildred said. "I mean, this business about universes getting mixed up and people not agreeing on what the past was. Isn't it obvious that it happens all the time anyway? Don't you ever find yourself listening to somebody who denies they said something that you heard them say quite clearly? Or found something staring you in the face in a place you've looked a dozen times, and it wasn't there?"

Showm smiled as she sliced one of the morsels on her plate-Mildred could read Ganymean expressions by now. She was at ease and relaxed, not at all the curt, businesslike Frenua that Mildred knew from the Government Center in Thurios and in their daytime dealings. In place of the tunics that accompanied the professional image, she was wearing a loose, richly embroidered robe of dark, satiny blue. Mildred wondered if she had a different style of dress for each part of the house and the personality that inhabited it. "You mean it happens to you, too?"

"Doesn't it to everyone?" Mildred said.

"I'm not sure. Even if I thought it did, I wouldn't say so. It might make you think that we argue and disagree as much as Terrans." A mild gibe that Freuna could now comfortably feel wouldn't give offense, Mildred was pleased to note.

"I still don't really grasp how this Thurien ability to come to agreements that seem to suit everybody works," Mildred admitted. "Maybe you're right. Maybe you have to be a Ganymean to understand it… or feel it, rather, you said, didn't you? You described the system as a consensual monarchy. On Earth it couldn't happen. You'd never get the consensus. It's absolutely as you said. I've been thinking about it. Everything's settled in the end by some form of warfare, camouflaged or otherwise. We're told it's unavoidable. The dominant ideology says that competition drives everything. But Thuriens are living disproof of that."

"An ideology that would suit those who see no significance in life beyond achieving that kind of success," Showm commented. "Its effect would be a society shaped to support and preserve a plutocratic minority, rather than to advance general prosperity and well-being. Wouldn't you think so?"

Mildred struggled to select one of the directions that her mind immediately wanted to go off in at once. "It's supposed to be what produces motivation… Well, that's true of course. But it can't be the whole story, can it? There has to be something that goes deeper… farther…"

"It comes from inside," Showm said, answering the unasked question. "You see, it works the other way around too. I am unable to comprehend what the satisfaction can be from devoting a life to outdoing others in contests that don't matter. What kind of people does it influence or impress? Adolescents of all ages, you told me once. I agree. But adolescents given power can do immeasurable damage."

"So what motivates Thuriens?" Mildred asked. This was getting closer to one of the things she wanted to explore more deeply. "You spend much of your time in Thurios or traveling, taking on fearsome responsibilities. Others build starships and energy conversion systems, or decorate buildings with landscapes from other worlds. Why? What's the reward? What do they get in return for the effort?… It's not as if their livelihood depends on it. They'll always have food to eat and a place to live, because others here continue to produce such things. But why should they?"

"Because there's nothing to prevent them."

"I don't understand."

Showm had spoken as if the answer were obvious. She checked herself and thought for a second. "Think about what you said just now. You asked why a person would do such things if their livelihood didn't depend on it. What does that mean? That their means of staying alive has to be controlled and restricted before they will take part in this mania for competition that Earth thinks is the ultimate meaning of existence? In other words, they have to be induced by need, and if that fails, compelled by violence. What kind of reward should require that? Can an organism that has to be forced be living in a way that is true to its nature? Of course not. It gets sick and it rebels. No wonder Earth has so many hospitals and prisons… Thuriens know that their nature is to build, to create, to help others achieve the things that will bring fulfillment to their lives also, not to profit at their expense. And everyone has something that it's in their nature to contribute. Discovering it is their reward. A true reward. Thuriens would have to be subjected to force not to seek it."

Showm paused, looking at Mildred searchingly for several seconds. But Mildred had too many threads of thoughts to untangle to respond immediately. She stared out at the falls where the gorge ended, tumbling in their slow, endless majesty. Such notions were not entirely unknown on Earth, she thought. The old monastic orders with their abbots had accepted the primacy of their own Calazars and worked to contribute each their share to the prosperity of the community that fed and clothed them. Could it be that the most appropriate model for the Thurien social order was a monastery scaled up to interstellar dimensions? She smiled distantly at the thought.

"What do you find amusing?" Showm asked.

"That perhaps not all Terrans are so alien in their philosophy. You should meet Xyen Chien, who's with Christian and his group."

"The Chinese scientist?"

"Yes. She's like you in many ways. She says the world must change as it moves out of its adolescence and comes of age. I think you and she would get along. You'd understand each other."

A serving platter with a domed cover glided silently down from the level above and behind them to hover by the end of the table. The cover opened to reveal a jug containing a hot reddish beverage, two drinking goblets, some ancillary dishes and bowls, and a dish of what looked like confectionary. Mildred helped Showm set the items out on the table and load the things that they had finished with. The platter closed itself and departed. Showm remained strangely silent throughout.

"Now it's my turn," Mildred said. "What are you thinking?"

"This is called ule. The small cup is to try a sample and blend ingredients to suit your taste. The colored flakes range from tart to sweet, and the syrups add body and smoothness. When you know what you like, you can mix it again in the goblet."

Mildred made a few choices and tried the result. It was sweet and spicy with a delicious reverberation of aftertastes that died away like echos in a cathedral. "You haven't answered my question," she said as she began mixing a larger version.

Showm made her own selection without needing to use the sampling cup. "I was thinking about what you said… Earth moving out of its adolescence and entering maturity. There was a world of humans who would have passed through that phase long ago. Yes, their roots lay in the predatory jungles of Earth, and our ancestors abandoned them to perish as genetically impaired biological misfits. But they didn't perish. With no choice but to play by the rules of the environment that they found themselves in, they braved and survived every challenge that it could throw at them. They emerged finally to dominate that world in a way which was, despite all the things you've heard me say, stirringly magnificent." Showm was talking, of course, about the Lunarians, evolved from terrestrial primates that the ancient Ganymeans had transported to Minerva. She went on, "But they overcame the limitations that my ancestors inflicted on them, and developed a cooperative technological culture in a fraction of the time that it had taken Ganymeans to progress to the same level. It was astounding. You see what I'm saying, Mildred? This Terran compulsion to fight adversity, the refusal to accept defeat, if tamed and directed at the real obstacles that stand in the way of life and the growth of consciousness and spirit, instead of against each other… it could prove a more potent force than anything we have encountered in all our explorations of the Galaxy."

"I've heard Christian talk along exactly those lines," Mildred said. She hoped this wasn't going to turn into a Thurien guilt-trip over the destruction of Minerva. Had she been the one who had gotten them onto it? She was unable to recall. It was time to change the subject before they got morbid, she decided. Showm sipped her ule, testing it, then added a drop more of one of the syrups and stirred it in. "Is your whole life taken up with public affairs, Frenua?" Mildred asked her. "How about personal things? Do you have any family?"

"Children, you mean?"

"Yes."

"Oh, indeed. I have a son who's away on a distant world these days, working among the natives. They're quite primitive there. And two daughters. One excels me by far in musical talent. The younger one is in Thurios, raising a family of her own."

"So, their father?… Are you together still?" Mildred had heard no reference to another occupant of the place.

"That was a phase of living that we completed and fulfilled. But there comes a time when we are called to do other things. He is finding his inner self now. But we remain companions in life. How about you?"

Mildred waved a hand to and fro. "Oh… a few flirtatious things in younger years. But I really don't think it's for me, you know. I enjoy solitude with my own thoughts, and the freedom to do things in my own peculiar ways. I don't think I've met a man yet that I didn't end up driving to distraction. Did you know that the only reason I ended up on Thurien was because Christian was trying to get rid of me?"

"No. How could that be?"

Mildred related the story and was relieved to see that it got Frenua chuckling-at least, shaking and making funny cackling sounds that she took to be a Ganymean chuckle-and away from her threatened downward slide over Minerva. Suddenly the thread of a thought came into Mildred's mind that if Eesyan, Christian, and Victor got their machine working, then maybe they could go back there somehow and change what had happened. But she didn't want to get Frenua onto that topic again. "Are you going to let me hear some of this music that you compose?" she asked instead.