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Chapter 53
I will this morning climb up in spirit to the high places, bearing with me the hopes and the miseries of my mother; and there … upon all that in the world of human flesh is now about to be born or to die beneath the rising sun I will call down the Fire.
—Pierre Teilhard de Chardin,
Hymn of the Universe
Twisp walked Kaleb to the flickering lights at the Oracle’s edge. This small cavern was a subset of the great root that Flattery had burned out a few thousand meters downcoast. This place was hushed, a place to breathe iodine on the salt air and feel the cool pulse of the sea.
Kaleb trod the well-worn path with his father’s bearing—tall, shoulders back, large eyes alert to every nuance of light and motion. While his parents lived no one had consulted the Oracle as often as he. In the dim light by the poolside Twisp saw that Kaleb’s adolescent gangliness had transmuted into the epitome of athletic grace.
“You are the man your father would most like to know,” Twisp said.
“And you are the man my father most liked.”
The two of them stood together at the poolside, watching the flickerings of kelp just beneath the surface. Both men kept their voices low, though the kelp chamber carried every whisper to its farthest crannies. Behind them, at a discreet distance, stood the complement of Zavatans who tended the pool. They busied themselves cleaning and reassembling one of the great borers that helped them tunnel out their habitations in the rock.
“When your parents met they were younger than you are now,” Twisp said. “Is there someone in your life?”
The perceptible blush that rose from Kaleb’s collar reminded Twisp even more of the young man’s father. Kaleb’s skin was darker, like his mother’s, but his hair was naturally kinked, a sullen, reddish gift from Brett Norton.
“Yes? So there is someone?”
“Victoria is a big place,” he said, “I’ve seen a lot of women.” His voice bordered on bitter.
“‘A lot,’“ Twisp mused, “and which one broke your heart?”
Kaleb snorted, half-turned away, then turned back to face Twisp. He was smiling. “Elder,” he said, “you are truly a force to be reckoned with. Am I that transparent?” Twisp shrugged.
“It is a recognizable affliction,” he said. “I endured it myself one day. Thirty years, and I still daydream.”
He didn’t go on. It was more important that Kaleb do some talking. Kaleb sat at the poolside, dangling his feet in the water, caressing the kelp with his bare soles.
“When I travel the kelpway, and take my father’s branch, I see you as he saw you himself. You were good to him—firm, kind, you let him talk too much.” Kaleb laughed. “He was a good man, I know. And you, you were a good man, too.” He bowed his head and shook it slowly. “I would like to be a good man, but I think I’m different. My life is different.”
Then he lowered himself into the pool and lay on his back on the kelp as though reclining on a great couch. His head and chest rested above water. Even in the colorful blue and red flickerings of the kelp-lights about the cavern Twisp could see a new life come into Kaleb’s large eyes.
“How are you different, Kaleb?” he asked. “You breathe, you eat, you bleed …”
“You know why we’re here,” Kaleb interrupted. His voice was firm now, none of the hesitation of youth deferring to age. “How many people died out there today because they wanted to tear Flattery apart but settled for tearing anything apart?”
Twisp remained silent, and Kaleb went on.
“I’ll be truthful, I respect you, I want your respect for myself, I want your approval that what I’m doing is right. If this doesn’t work, we will probably have to attack him, you know.”
His voice was becoming dreamy, and Twisp knew that the kelp was gathering him in, guiding him down the eddies of the past. Twisp steered him past thoughts of failure, past the matter that gave him the sense of failure.
“A woman won’t let you sleep,” Twisp said. “Tell me about her.”
“Yes,” Kaleb said, closing his gray eyes. Kaleb’s eyes, like his father’s, emanated a maturity beyond his years.
“Yes, she’s here. She had two wots before we met. Qita, she knew the kelp as you and I have known it. As an ally. She had other lovers, but I was her last. As she will be the last for me.”
This wrenched out of him with such an agonized moan that Twisp’s hair raised up on his neck. Kaleb splashed the pool with both fists, but stayed immersed in the kelp, quieting with the caress of the waves.
“Elder,” Mose whispered, tugging at Twisp’s sleeve, “did you see his eyes?”
Twisp nodded, and before he could respond the kelp’s display of flickering lights took on an intensity he’d never seen before. It was like one of the winter magnetic disturbances in the night sky, with great leaping rainbows of color that seemed to transcend water, rock and air. Mose stepped back from the pool in fear, but Twisp reached a hand to stop him.
“Old friends,” Twisp whispered. “They are glad to see each other.”
Perhaps Kaleb’s bloodlines led to this moment. His mother, Scudi Wang, and her mother before her had been the first two to communicate with the waking being that humans called “kelp” and the kelp called “Avata.”
When Twisp met Scudi Wang she was a dark young woman passionately working in her mother’s wake to reestablish the kelp worldwide. In her own words, she “mathematicked the waves,” and in doing so made Current Control possible, a system that saved thousands of Islander lives and revolutionized travel in Pandora’s seas.
Scudi Wang was beloved by the kelp—this Twisp had heard from the kelp itself long before Kaleb was born. When Flattery attacked the kelp, lobotomized it, Scudi ordered her inheritance, Merman Mercantile, to stop trading with him. She and Kaleb’s father were assassinated three days later.
Twisp saw Kaleb take on his mother’s features as he lay there in the pool. His hair appeared darker, and so did his skin. The kelp enveloped him as though he were in the palm of a giant hand. The lights around them leaped and danced to some silent music. Twisp recalled that day when Scudi placed her hands into the sea and pleaded with the kelp, “Help us,” and it did. It saved their lives, and that moment had changed his life forever. It changed all of their lives.
In the years since Scudi’s death she had become something of a Pandoran historical monument, with many plaques and statues erected in her honor. When a massive earthquake ravaged the old Current Control site undersea, the carved glass statue of Scudi Wang was found intact, clutched in the fronds of a nearby stand of kelp. That sign of love from the kelp, that recognition of a symbol enraged Flattery and he entered into a vendetta against the kelp that continued to this day.
Twisp watched Kaleb recline on the back of the kelp root and it seemed as though the root surged up to cradle the young man closer.
“Twisp,” he called from the pool, “that was what my mother wanted to do, isn’t it? Shut off all supplies to Flattery, starve him out. All these years I have hunted in vain for the day she died, and now I have it …”
Kaleb started to weep, and Twisp had a difficult time making out his words.
“It would have worked then, it would have worked. But now he owns everything, everything … and now there is no way. No way short of a miracle to reach all of the people at once … to get them all to shut him out would take … would take a sign from God …”
His voice faded into a hum that seemed to keep time with the red and blue lights.
Chapter 54
Increase the number of variables, but the axioms themselves never change.
—Algebra II
Beatriz liked the feel of the free-fall spin. She kept her eyes closed and imagined herself sprawled across one of those warm organic beds the islanders grew. She wanted to be in a bed like that now with Dwarf MacIntosh, on some other world, under some other star. But of course a bed like that made no sense in near-zero-gee.
MacIntosh gave her one more gentle shove and drifted them both into “the webworks.” This was a cavernous room at the Orbiter’s tubular axis, sometimes called the “privacy park,” often used for naps or meditation between duties, or for an occasional tryst by a desperate pair of lovers. A fine white netting crisscrossed the area, segmenting the huge space into a blur of booths and bi
ns. Holo scenes turned some sections of web work into fantasy worlds, further removing the occupants from the worries of life aboard the Orbiter. All this Beatriz knew from her last tour, so today she kept her eyes shut tight.
“The disorientation is lasting longer this time,” she told MacIntosh. “I really don’t want to open my eyes.”
“After what you went through today, I’m not surprised,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to open them, either.”
She heard his fingers clicking on his belt messenger, and felt the sudden play of a warm light across her exposed hands and face.
“Well, we’re now at Port of Angels, that lush Islander resort you’ve heard so much about. It’s warm, feel it?”
Yes, the movement of air across her cheeks was warm, caressing. She could imagine herself on the beach at Port of Angels, letting her hair dry in the suns and stirring a cold drink. A plate of mango and papaya slices waited at her elbow. There was no wavesound here in the Orbiter, no pulse of the surf against her back that sometimes took her breath away …
She opened her eyes. A sandy beach stretched away from her in both directions. Greenery poured over the clifftops down to the beach, and several little huts waited under their matched hats to cool her sun-drenched skin. As the two of them turned, the holo turned, responding to a reference point in the messenger.
The holo came complete with their footprints in the sand, following them up from the edge of a blue-green sea. The fictional ferry that had transported them to this illusion had already settled under the waves, leaving only a swirl of current and a trail of bubbles toward the horizon. Sea-pups yapped and dove from the rocks that lined the harbor, hunting fish startled out of hiding by the ferry.
“We needed a few minutes alone,” MacIntosh said. “It will take more than a few minutes to clean up the mess up here, track them all down. We’ve got an exceptional crew, that’s why they’re up here. Warning’s out, so this Brood doesn’t stand a chance.”
