Edges

Chapter 32

Clemantine sat stiffly throughout this childish recitation, listening carefully to the entity’s every word.

Its story confirmed what had long been a favored theory: that the Hallowed Vasties grew out of the influence of a runaway behavioral virus that had swept through the vulnerable populations of the first settled star systems, enfolding its victims into a group mind—a Communion—that grew with exponential speed to form the cordons.

The frontier populations had not been so vulnerable. Even so, Clemantine had once felt the early effects of that behavioral virus. Bitter memories were tied to that time—memories Urban shared.

She listened to the entity, but watched Urban.

The entity—Lezuri, Clemantine reminded herself—had taken no notice of him. Surely a deliberate strategy and an effective one. Urban paced at the side of the dais, his frustration and anger easy to read. But very soon, the story seized his attention, arrested his motion. His gaze grew distant as he hung on every word.

Now, with the story done, she messaged him:

*It is a spider weaving a web of words to catch you.

He flinched. His gaze sought her across the dais, a cold stare.

Pasha, oblivious to this, was on her feet. “You have just told us a history of the Hallowed Vasties, haven’t you?” she demanded of the entity. “A simplified story of the rise and fall of a cordoned star.”

Lezuri looked at her, seeming amused at her outburst. Clemantine wondered if it was because of the subject of Pasha’s question or because Lezuri recognized the hostility behind it.

“The ‘Hallowed Vasties,’” it mused. “That is the curious name your people have given to the region of the Swarms, but yes. That is the story I have just told.”

Pasha looked on the verge of asking another question, but Shoran, standing near the end of the second row, spoke ahead of her. “You said before that you had made a world. Did you mean it literally? A new world? Like the one we’ve seen at Tanjiri?”

At mention of the name Tanjiri, Lezuri’s demeanor changed. The entity stiffened, as if on guard. “I meant it literally,” it answered, all the warmth gone from its voice.

Did it harbor some dark concern about Tanjiri? Determined to test the idea, Clemantine spoke, projecting her voice over competing questions. “This ship is bound for Tanjiri,” she said. “Do you know what we will find there?”

The gathering fell silent as everyone waited for Lezuri’s answer. The entity fixed Clemantine with a wary gaze, saying, “Nothing that will please you.”

And nothing that will please you either, Clemantine guessed, more curious now than ever to know what they might find in that stellar system.

From somewhere in back, Riffan asked, “Are there dangers there?”

“Very much so.”

Shoran said, “Surely there are dangers everywhere. Yourself not least. Are there more entities like you? Should we be wary of such as you?”

“Yes, you should be wary,” Lezuri replied, its luminous gaze taking in the assembly and not just Shoran. “You should be wary, but not of me. I have caused you no harm. I mean you no harm. I have explained the reason for my presence here. I was as a drowning man in a vast ocean who glimpsed the possibility of miraculous rescue and reached out to seize it, seeking only to survive—as any living creature would.”

Several more questions erupted. One was Vytet’s, who asked, “How did you come to be marooned on that dead world?”

Lezuri’s answer was terse, “One whom I loved betrayed me.”

Clemantine found herself moved by the bitterness in the entity’s voice. For the first time, she saw it… saw him, as more than a bio-mechanical device. He seemed almost human, his downcast gaze telegraphing his resentment and a sense of profound loss.

Was it a performance? One calculated to win the sympathy of his audience? Or were his feelings real?

She leaned forward in her seat, awaiting further explanation. They all waited in the wake of this admission but Lezuri said nothing more. Instead, he interpreted the silence as a signal that his interview was done, and he turned to leave the dais.

Urban stepped forward then, stopped him with a question. “How was it you couldn’t rescue yourself?”

Lezuri paused, looking down at Urban, arrogance again in his voice as he answered, “It was a question of time.” He turned to the gathering. “In the fullness of time I would have recovered myself and devised a means of return, but with your presence came the gift of opportunity. Now that we have found one other, I think we are all stronger for it, and wiser. We will need to be, to face the dangers ahead.”

This drew murmuring approval. Urban turned in puzzled surprise to take in the many hopeful faces.

Lezuri stepped down from the dais. Leaned in to whisper to Urban, who drew back, looking unsettled. The entity turned again to the gathering. Many in the front row had left their seats to converge around him, but he gestured them back, waving away another flurry of questions.

“Wonders lie ahead of us,” he announced, “but only if we reach agreement on the best direction of our endeavors.”

“What?” Pasha demanded in frustration. She had left her seat to stand on tiptoe at the edge of the throng that clustered around Lezuri. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Clemantine stood again too. Her height let her see over everyone crowding the aisle; she glimpsed Lezuri, already outside, striding swiftly away across the pavilion, several among the ship’s company trailing in his wake.

Pasha turned to her, demanded to know, “Did anything uttered by that creature make any sense at all?”

Tarnya stepped up, one of many who’d descended from the back rows. Hesitantly, she said, “I felt it was weaving a narrative meant to lead our attention along a desired path—until the mention of Tanjiri.”

“It doesn’t want us to go there,” Pasha said.

Clemantine stared after it. “That was my impression too.”

“It’s afraid of something there,” Pasha decided. “It’s going to lobby for some other destination. Let’s agree right now that we are not going to be persuaded.”

Clemantine looked for Urban, saw him over the throng. He stood with arms crossed, scowling at Vytet, clearly resisting an argument. Naresh joined them, gesturing for emphasis. Clemantine was well aware of their sympathies. Both would be working to persuade Urban to compromise with the entity.

Discussion swirled on all sides as more people came down from the back rows, crowding into the narrow space before the seats and standing on the dais. Their discussions devolved into arguments that swiftly grew heated. The tone set Clemantine on edge. In the confined world of the gee deck, there was no room for such a level of animosity or bitter disagreement.

She turned defensively at the sound of harsh words from Pasha.

“Riffan, you are obsessed with this thing! You of all people! You were at the Rock. You know what it’s capable of—”

“His name is Lezuri,” Riffan interrupted, eyeing Pasha with an amused half-smile, entirely unmoved by her anger. “And when we met him at the Rock, he was desperate. He’d been marooned there for centuries.”

“How did he come to be marooned?” Tarnya asked. “And why? ‘One whom I loved betrayed me.’ That is a diversion. It’s not an explanation.”

“He has begun to tell us,” Riffan said, in the grip of a giddy good mood. “This is a good thing, a wondrous thing. We have entered into discussions that will surely lead us to a peaceful resolution and there will be so much we can learn. We will be so much better prepared to meet what lies out there, ahead of us, in the Hallowed Vasties.”

Pasha dismissed all of this with a snort. “He has said a lot without saying much. I found him arrogant and condescending. He is clearly using us for his own purposes. If you can’t see that, Riffan, then you are a fool.”

“I am a fool!” Riffan conceded with a laugh. “But I am a fool who has begun to glimpse the story behind the mystery of the Hallowed Vasties.”

“But that’s just it,” Tarnya said. “Lezuri told us a story. It was nothing more than that. He offered no proof as to the truth of his words. No evidence—”

“Just the ring of truth!” Riffan sang out, gesturing with one hand. “The evidence of his long experience.”

“You are an idiot,” Pasha concluded.

Clemantine heard snatches of similar, heated discussions as she worked to extricate herself from the crowd. The ship’s company swiftly self-sorted into two loose federations: those who hoped for the best and those who expected the worst.

Clemantine had seen too much in her long life to be optimistic now.

Vytet was on the dais, urging people back to their seats, trying to call the assembly back to order. The ensuing discussion would surely go on for hours.

She looked for Urban, saw him with Kona just outside the amphitheater, their heads together in close discussion. Kona looked up to scan the crowd. His gaze found hers. He said something to Urban.

A moment later, Urban messaged her: *Come home. We need to talk.