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amidst those presents is a booby-trap that gradually turns the uplifted race
into mental defectives who will never cause the Shaddill trouble."
"But that is horrible!" I cried. "Surely the League of Peoples would object."
"No," said Festina, "not if the poison doesn't actually kill. And not if the
uplifted race accepts the gift freely. The League prevents outright murder...
but it doesn't stop anyone from making choices that are suicidally stupid."
"But why would the Shaddilldo such a thing?" Lajoolie asked in a trembly
voice.
"Maybe from fear," Uclod answered, taking her hand in his. "Think about it
from the Shaddill's viewpoint there were all these other intelligent races in
the same region of the galaxy, and bit by bit, those races were developing
their own technologies. Sure, the Shaddill had a headstart... but maybe they
were afraid someone else would catch up. If another species was a tiny bit
smarter or luckier or harder-working, the Shaddill might eventually get left
in the dust. And what could they do to stop it? The League doesn't tolerate
violence, so the Shaddill couldn't directly destroy potential threats.
Instead, they got sneaky."
"Trojan horses," Aarhus murmured. "Gifts that slowly but surely neutralized
any race who was close on the Shaddill's heels. Turning us all into vapid
idiots like the Cashlings." He turned toward me. "Or even worse, what they did
to your people on Melaquin. You might have been the Shaddill's substitute
children, but your creators didn't want you growing up and becoming serious
competition. So they damaged you mentally made certain you'd never mature."
"Yes," Nimbus told me, "by keeping your people childlike, the Shaddill
eliminated you as a threat and made you all the more endearing: a society
filled with happy healthy kids, rather than the usual messiness of a
civilization run by adults. When your brains get to the critical point ofGrow
up or shut down... you're designed just to go to sleep."
"Not much better than dying," Uclod growled.
"But," Nimbus replied, "less distressing as the Shaddill look down from the
sky. That cute little boy they watched three hundred years ago... he's not
dead, he's just at a slumber party with his friends. Perhaps the Shaddill
could give him a stimulant so he'd get up for a while, walk around, show off
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the sweet little mannerisms that made his creators feel so fond. Then away
they'd go again until the next time they felt like visiting the kids for a few
hours."
"Bloody hell," Festina whispered. "Very neat... and despicable." She gave my
shoulder a squeeze. "If all this is true..."
I waited to hear how she would finish the sentence. But what could she say?If
all this is true, poor Oar, poor you! It is too bad you face a malfunctioning
brain because your creators wanted you lovable but helpless. We too find you
lovable, and are charmed by your naïve innocence; we will be very most sad
when you finally fall to the ground and do not get up.
In the end, all Festina could do was give my shoulder another squeeze.
My Vow
I looked around at my companions their somber faces, their eyes shifting away
from me as if I were already some walking deadumushu whose gaze they could not
meet and for one brief moment, I nearly lost heart. These were my only friends
in the universe, and they believed I was doomed: a wind-up toy to amuse foul
aliens, and now I was running down. They thought of me as a frivolous child
who did not understand the world, a person who had not grown up andcould not
grow up. For one brief moment, a great sorrow washed over my soul, as I feared
they were correct.
Perhaps I was not a glorious heroine, destined for grandeur.
Perhaps I was just a silly girl-child who had filled her own head with
nonsense deluded herself into thinking she was special.
For I had to admit, my brainwas getting Tired. It had been that way for the
past four years. Recent events had temporarily stirred me from my stupor...
but over and over again, I had almost slipped back to nothingness. How long
before I reached the point of no return?
If the Pollisand was telling the truth, I could still be cured provided I
embraced his cause to "wipe the Shaddill off the face of the galaxy." When he
first made his proposition, I had glibly answered,Yes, I shall help; but I had
understood so little of who and what the Shaddill were. Even now... even now,
there were only conjectures. I did notknow. But if all those conjectures were
correct...
...I wished to do more than just punch the Shaddill in the nose. I wished to
keep punching and punching until they said they were sorry, and even then, I
did not think I would stop. I truly wished to hurt them, not because I wanted
to win favor with the Pollisand, but because it was what such villains
deserved.
After all, working with the Pollisand might not save me why should I trust an
alien to keep his word? The universe was full of betrayal. And what would it
mean to be cured? Who would I become? A tedious plodding grown-up? A stodgy
sighing person who did not fall down from Tiredness but who went around
three-quarters Tired all day, pretending that because her feet were moving,
her brain must still be alive?
Nimbus suggested I must become adult or become nothing; I did not know which
option I feared more. But whatever happened to me, I swore I would not succumb
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to oblivion until I had made the Shaddill regret what they had done.
That was my vow. That was what I solemnly promised to the universe: to every
glass elder lying comatose in a tower, to my original flesh-and-blood
ancestors, and even to alien races like the foolish Cashlings whose brains
were crumbling wrecks.Somehow, I thought,this must all be avenged.
Therefore, in my most secret inner soul, I swore a terrible oath to do so.
"Come now," I said to my friends, "we are wasting time, and perhaps I have
little time left. Let us perform at least one great deed in our lives before
we vanish forever."
I did not wait for them to answer I strode down the dirt-caked tunnel,
trusting that somehow I would find the Shaddill. My friends hesitated a
moment, then followed close behind me.
24: WHEREIN I EXPLORE THE ENEMY'S LAIR
In The Tunnels
The entire stick-ship seemed filled with tunnels: some narrow with little
head-room, some wide and reaching up into darkness. Darkness was indeed the
most salient feature of these tunnels; therewere occasional lights dim orangey
plates the size of my palm, set into the wall at waist level but I counted a
full twenty-two paces from one plate to the next, and considering the lights
were scarcely as bright as a single candle, they did not provide substantive
illumination. Their sole function must have been to prevent one from getting
lost in total blackness.
Festina still had her glow-wand, but she used it sparingly: she only [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]