Destiny's shield

Chapter 15

Worlds upon worlds upon worlds, circling an incomprehensible number of suns. People on those worlds, everywhere-but people changed and transformed. Misshapen and distorted, most of them. So, at least, most men would say, flinching.

Death comes, striking many of those worlds. The very Earth itself, scoured clean by a plague which spared no form of life. Nothing left-except, slowly, here and there, an advancing network of crystals.

Aide's folk, Belisarius realized, come to replace those who had destroyed their own worlds. Created, by those who had slain themselves, to be their heirs.

Belisarius hung in the darkness. Around him, below him, above him-in all directions-spun great whirling spirals of light and beauty.

Galaxies.

He sensed a new presence, and immediately understood its meaning. A great sigh of relief swept through him.

Finally, finally-

He saw a point of light in the void. A point, nothing more, which seemed infinitely distant. But he knew, even in the seeing, that the distance was one of time not space.

Time opened, and the future came.

The point of light erupted, surged forward. A moment later, floating before Belisarius, was one of the Great Ones.

The general had seen glimpses of them, before. Now, for the first time, he saw a Great One clearly.

As clearly, at least, as he ever could. He understood, now, that he would never see them fully. Too much of their structure lay in mysterious forces which would never be seen by earthly eyes.

A new voice came to him. Like Aide's, in a way, but different.

force fields. energy matrices. there is little in us left of our earthly origins. and no flesh at all.

Like a winged whale, vaguely, in its broad appearance. If ever a whale could swim the heavens, glowing from an inner light. But much, much larger. The Great One dwarfed any animal that had ever lived.

Our dimensions measure eight by three by two, approximately, in the visible spectrum. What you call miles. Our mass is-difficult to calculate. It depends on velocity. We can attain 93 % light speed, at our utmost-call it exertion. We must be very careful, approaching a solar system. Should one of us impact a planet, at that velocity, we would destroy it. And possibly ourselves as well.

The being had no eyes, no mouth, no apparent sense organs of any kind. Yet the general knew that the Great One could detect everything that any human could, and much else besides.

He saw into the being, now. Saw the glittering network of crystals which formed the Great One's-heart? Soul?

They are our heritage now. Our creators, as much as our creations. They do for us what something called DNA once did for our ancient ancestors. Allow the future to exist.

Belisarius studied the crystalline network more closely. The crystals, he thought, seemed much like Aide. Yet, somehow different.

Aide is much different. It-no, for you it will always be "HE"-bears the same relationship to these as you do to a bacterium. Akin,but greater.

The Great One sensed the general's incomprehension. What is a "bacterium"?

As you do to an earthworm. Or, better, a mushroom. We designed these crystals for our own survival. But then discovered we could not make them, or use them, unless we created a crystal intelligence to guide and assist us. Those became Aide's people.

They were your slaves, then. As I have heard the "new gods" say.

Never .

There came a sense of mirth; vast, yet whimsical. And the general knew, then-finally-that these almost inconceivable beings were truly his own folk. He had but to look in a mirror, to see the crooked smile that would, someday, become that universe-encompassing irony-and that delight in irony.

The peasant who tills the field brings children into the world-to help in the labor, among other things. Are those children slaves?

They can be, replied the general. I have seen it, more often than I like to remember.

The sense of wry humor never faded.

Not in your house. Not in your field. Not in your smithy.

No, but-

The Great One swelled, swirled. Looped the heavens, prancing on wings of light and shadow.

And whose child am I-craftsman?

There was a soundless peal, that might be called joyful laughter. The Great One swept off, dwindling.

Wait! called out Belisarius.

No. You have enough. I must be off to join my brethren and see the universe. Our family-your descendants-have filled that universe. Filled it with wonder that we would share and build upon. We do not have much time, in our short lives, to delve that splendor. A million years, perhaps-not counting time dilation.

Nothing but a tiny dot of light, now.

Wait! cried Belisarius again. There is so much I need to know!

The faint dot paused; then, swirled back. A moment later, Belisarius was staring awe-struck at a towering wall of blazing glory.

There is nothing you need to know, that you do not already. We are your creation, as Aide's folk are ours. And now your grandchildren have come to you for help, in their time of trouble.

So what do you need to know- old man ? You are the elder of that village which now spans galaxies. You are the blacksmith who forged humanity on its own anvil.

Belisarius laughed himself then, and it seemed that the galaxies shivered with his mirth. The Great One before him rippled; waves of humor matching his own.

It is our most ancient religion, grandfather. And with good reason.

Swoop-away, away. Gone now, almost. A faint dot, no more.

A faint voice; laughing voice:

Call it-ancestor worship.

When Belisarius returned to the world, he simply stared for a time. Looking beyond the hanging canopy to the great band of stars girdling the night sky. The outposts of that great village of the future.

Then, as he had not done in weeks, he withdrew Aide from his pouch.

There was no need, really. He had long since learned to communicate with the "jewel" without holding it. But he needed to see Aide with his own eyes. Much as he often needed to hold Photius with his own hands. To rejoice in love; and to find comfort in eternity.

Aide spoke.

You did not answer me.

Belisarius:

Weren't you there-when I met the Great One?

Uncertainly:

Yes, but- I do not think I understood. I am not sure.

Plaintively, like a child complaining of the difficulty of its lessons:

We are not like you. We are not like the Great Ones. We are not human. We are not-

Be quiet, Aide. And stop whining. How do you expect to grow up if you whimper at every task?

Silence. Then: We will grow up?

Of course. I am your ancestor. One of them, at least. How do you think you got into the world in the first place?

Everything that is made of us grows up. Certainly my offspring!

A long, long silence. Then: We never dreamed. That we, too, could grow.

Aide spoke no more. Belisarius could sense the facets withdrawing into themselves, flashing internal dialogue.

After a time, he replaced the "jewel" in the pouch and lay down on his pallet. He needed to sleep. A battle would erupt soon, possibly even the next day.

But, just as he was drifting into slumber, he was awakened by Aide's voice.

Very faint; very indistinct.

What are you saying? he mumbled sleepily. I can't hear you.

That's because I'm muttering.

Proudly:

It's good you can't hear me. That means I'm doing it right, even though I'm just starting.

Very proudly:

I'll get better, I know I will. Practice makes perfect. Valentinian always says that.

The general's eyes popped open. "Sweet Jesus," he whispered.

I thought I'd start with Valentinian. Growing up, I mean. He's pretty easy. Not the swordplay, of course. But the muttering's not so hard. And-

A string of profanity followed.

Belisarius bolted upright.

"Don't use that sort of language!" he commanded. Much as he had often instructed his son Photius. And with approximately the same result.

Mutter, mutter, mutter.