The two unfortunate tech-soldiers? They had fallen, all right. Right through Senisran into the night sky in the southern hemisphere. Shaken, Essasu lifted his gaze to the three Parramati. They were watching him silently.
The storm in his mind mirrored the greater, darker one raging about him. Three stones come together: earth, road, seeing. A way of seeing a road through the earth to the sky?
But how? Though more administrator than scientist, Essasu still was aware that several important laws of physics had just been violated directly in front of him. Not magic. He was no believer in superstition. It was technology, but of another order. Three stones. Surely the Parramati weren't responsible for them.
Then who were? How had they come to be here, on this backward watery world? Clearly the locals had learned how to make use of them. Had they been instructed, or was learning the properties of each individual stone a matter of trial and error? He'd seen no switches thrown, no surreptitious controls nudged. The Parramati had simply thrown the three objects together.
To become useful they had to be combined. A single stone was nothing more than a lump of inscribed slag. But when pushed against another, or several others, it helped to open a gate. In this case, a gate to another part of Senisran.
His thoughts reeled. Mallatyah and Torrelau were each home to dozens of the sacred stones. Many more were held and cared for on the other islands of the archipelago. Were some inert, no more than what they appeared to be, or were all potentially capable of equally inexplicable higher functions?
What else could the sacred stones do? What would happen if a sea stone was combined with a pair of road stones, or growing stones with sky stones? Did only certain specific combinations have a higher function, or would any work?
Puzzle pieces, he told himself. Hundreds of them, scattered the length and breadth of the Parramati archipelago. Each one looked after by a designated individual, or family, or clan. What else, if anything, besides the sky disk transporter could the stones become?
He had a thousand questions, the answer to any one of which was more important than the elimination of a couple of bothersome humans.
The female was speaking. "We are sorry for your friends, but they chose their road."
"Yes. Yes, they did." Mumbling, Essasu and his remaining companion backed away from the glistening sky disk. Rain was sucked into it as readily as bodies, he noticed. How much control did these primitives have over a device clearly not of their own making? Could its locus be shifted? Toward him, for example? What if they pushed it forward and it slid under his feet? Would he, too, fall through to the sky in the southern hemisphere?
Madness it was, utter and complete. Except that he'd seen it happen. As she retreated, the surviving tech stumbled slightly, reminding him that he was not alone, that another had witnessed the impossibility.
Tilting his head slightly within the protective hood, he tried to raise the pair who had vanished into the disk on their communicators. When there was no response, he addressed the other members of the expedition who had taken up positions just inside the station's breached defensive perimeter.
"Interdiction is aborted. Return to the floater. Any who delay will be left behind. I repeat, return to the floater."
The tech glanced at him. "Commander, the mastorm ... should we not wait awhile?"
Essasu continued to back away from the three Parramati. "We are leaving now." Suddenly nothing, not even the roaring storm, posed nearly the threat implied by the inexplicable translucent disk.
"Did you see it? Did you see what happened?"
The tech responded with a gesture of first-degree concurrence, massively emphasized. "I saw, Commander, but I do not understand. What happened to Suugil and Rieibaa? Where did they go?"
"On a journey from which I fear they will not be returning." Again he addressed himself to his suit pickup. "Assemble at the prearranged point. Do not, I repeat, do not attempt to question or interfere in any way with any natives you may encounter."
Moments later the remainder of the assault team had reunited outside the station's defensive perimeter. The senior among them eyed the commander searchingly.
"What happened? Why have we aborted?"
Essasu stared back evenly. "It seems we have chosen a wrong road." At this, the other members of the group looked uncertainly at one another. Essasu did not elaborate. Let them query their surviving companion. Other thoughts occupied his thinking.
The first thing he intended to do upon returning to Mallatyah was institute a thorough survey of all the sacred stones on the island. Then he would initiate careful, nonthreatening discussions with their caretakers. It should be possible to secure additional, nonhostile demonstrations of the stones' abilities, under conditions that would permit proper scientific study and analysis.
This was big, he knew. Major. Ra'selah miscaf nye. Much more important than some trifle of a treaty. And he, Essasu, would be responsible for its discovery and subsequent exploitation. The noble title to which he aspired was no longer a distant dream but an imminent reality. Such a destiny was worth the sacrifice of a couple of technicians. In gratitude, he would incorporate their names into his title.
Their number reduced by two, the group pushed their way back through the storm, up over the ridges, doggedly retracing their path. Essasu found himself glancing back over his shoulder on more occasions than he cared to admit. He suffered from a quiet horror of looking around only to see a glistening disk full of stars bearing down on him, swallowing rocks, trees, and everything else in its circular path as it sustained a remorseless pursuit.
Some kind of transport mechanism, he knew. One that the Parramati could call into existence but not manipulate. That would be for imperial scientists to master. Surely the system was designed to allow travel from one part of the planet to another and not to dump would-be travelers into an empty slice of sky! No doubt it was all a matter of proper alignment, the details of which time and study would resolve.
He wondered if the two unfortunate technicians who had been swallowed up by the disk were still falling, and he shuddered.
The origin of the disk-generating stones intrigued him almost as much as their operation. Who had manufactured them, and when? Those parts of Senisran that had been explored had revealed nothing in the way of a civilization predating that of the primitive natives. There was nothing; not a wall, not a statue, not a crumbling ziggurat. Nothing to indicate the earlier presence of a technologically advanced society.
That the stones were not recent arrivals but had been on Senisran for some time was clear from the extensive mythology that had been developed around them by the Parramati. The fact that the devices were still functional was yet another testament to the achievements of their designers. Galactic archeology was not a subject that had much interested him, and he knew next to nothing about it, but there was clearly work here for specialists in many disciplines. He had to move with care and caution lest he overload his brain.
Focus on the immediate, he decided. Concentrate on surmounting this wet, slippery slope without breaking a leg. Understanding, great acclaim, and noble titles could come later.
One of the first steps must be to get hold of a stone and subject it to rigorous examination and analysis in the lab. Facilities denied to the station were available at Chraara. Other stones could be sent offworld for study, preferably accompanied by their respective stone masters. It would not matter if their relations with the Parramati suffered. From now on, it was the stones that mattered.
Would he be believed, even with a witness to corroborate his statements? If only they'd had recorders going! It being, of course, inappropriate to make a record of a double assassination, there were only his personal observations and those of the surviving technician to attest to what had happened. It would have to suffice.
Did the Parramati know more about the stones than they were saying, or were they akin to children who knew how to operate a complex machine but could not have begun to explain how it actually worked? Those questions too would yield to future scrutiny.
"Be careful there!" he warned those ahead of him. "Watch your step." Irony would not be a strong enough concept to describe their situation if, having just made the discovery of the age, they succumbed to the vicissitudes of bad weather.
Whirling abruptly, he saw only wind-whipped trees and sodden ground. The image of the disk swallowing his two technicians was one that was going to be difficult to dislodge from memory. The sight of them stumbling, falling, screaming as they shrank into the starfield ...
Angrily, he returned his attention to the trail ahead.
The four big persons squatted comfortably on their haunches. Torrelauapa lay below the slope on which they sat and off to their right, the waterfall and its narrow lagoon to their left. Three outriggers were heading out to sea, their nets draped neatly over their sides, while females came and went from the intricate mountainside gardens.
Ascela, Jorana, Osiwivi, and Massapapu had gathered to discuss the incident of the previous night. Overhead, the tropical sun shone down through a perfectly blue shy storm-swept clean of particulates.
"Are the stones safe?" Jorana inquired of Osiwivi.
"All have been returned to their keeping places," his friend replied. "To use them together was a difficult decision."
"But one that had to be made." Massapapu was employing a middle finger to clean one ear. "We could not let the two humans be killed. Not while they were living in our space."
"Bad kusum." When Ascela grunted, her whole body lifted slightly on powerful hind legs.
"A violation of hospitality," added Osiwivi.
"But now the shiny-skinned ones, these AAnn, know the power of stones." As was each of them, Jorana was openly concerned. "They will trouble our Mallatyahan relations and return to harass us as well."
"Perhaps not." The others looked to Ascela, who while carrying no more weight in discussion than anyone else, was senior in years among them. "It may be that none of their big persons will grasp the true meaning of what was seen." She barked gentle amusement. "After all, unless one knows the ways of using, the stones are only stones. Except for what the Mallatyahans choose to tell them, the shiny-skinned AAnn are ignorant of kusum."
"'That is so," Osiwivi agreed, "but I still think as does Jorana. They will trouble us unless we make them all go away."
Massapapu considered the problem. "We could send them all down a road from which they would not return."
Ascela gestured agreement. "That is easily enough done. But from talking with the humans, I believe that others would come to take their place. These who would come after would be more cautious as well as more ready to use weapons."
"Just as a human male has come to join the female." Jorana's nostrils flared slightly. "Do you think they will mate?"
"I do not know. They don't speak of such things to me. If I think of it, I will ask them sometime. They seem mismatched as to size."
Massapapu considered. "Maybe among their kind the female is always larger than the male."
Jorana made a low chittering sound deep in his throat. "It seems that we are going to have to learn how to live with these visitors among us, humans and AAnn alike. But that does not mean we must agree to let them come and dig out what they want from the land." Double eyelids blinked. "Better for kusum to keep playing them off one against the other."
"Yes," agreed Osiwivi. "Contact and trade is supportable-so long as we control it."
"But they will want to manage things." Ascela shifted on her haunches. "Both believe that they speak from a position of strength, but neither has any stones." She snorted derisively. "They are not stronger than us, but it is better to let them think that they are."
"They will continue to harangue us to choose between them," Massapapu argued.
"Let them." Ascela let her gaze wander to the relaxing symmetry of the terraced gardens. "We will continue to play no favorites. Access to all islands of the Parramati will be controlled, and we will not allow them to dig on our lands. We will pass judgment on every soft- or shinyskin who wishes to reside among us."
"For how long?" Osiwivi was not afraid to let uncertainty show. "They have powerful weapons and machines."
"But they do not know the right roads." Jorana half closed his eyes, squinting into the sun as he watched the last of the fishing outriggers vanish around the northern point. "Perhaps if we were to show some of them a true road, they would come to understand what preserving our kusum means to us."
"Yes!" Massapapu was immediately enthusiastic. "Show the two humans the great road. See then if they do not become more like us, more attuned to true kusum. Show them the great road and they will understand why we do not need their treaty and their trade goods."
As Ascela mulled over this proposal, she sifted soil through her fingers, studying the small lives it had to offer. Occasionally she nibbled.
"An idea worthy of further consideration, but are these two humans the proper candidates? They do not strike me as big persons among their own kind. Wise, yes. Understanding and sometimes even sympathetic. Intelligent and knowledgeable, or they would not have been sent among us. But after much talking with them, I do not believe that they are persons of influence or power."
"We can add to their power as well as to their knowledge by showing them the road," Jorana pointed out. "Once they have seen, then big persons of their own, kind will have to listen to them."
Ascela rocked backward, using her short tail to form the third leg of a tripod on which she could balance. "Well, on one thing we are all agreed: something must be done about these persistent soft- and shiny-skinned visitors. If we cannot drive them away or kill them all, we must make them understand what it is to be Parramati. If that means they must be shown the great road, then so be it."
Bathed in warm sunlight, their naked skin caressed by the occasional warm breeze off the lagoon, they fell to discussing the details.
Fawn frowned at Naharira, a Torrelauapan big person she knew only by name. Repairs to that part of the station defensive perimeter that had been damaged during the last mastorm were taking longer than she'd calculated. Straightening and wiping sweat from her forehead, she peered across the cleared area to the far side of the defensive fence where Pulickel was methodically checking each newly refurbished stanchion with a hand-held monitor.
So far, only the one she was working on seemed to have suffered any serious damage. It was the first time any part of the defensive fence had failed. Given the fury of the periodic mastorms and the debilitating nature of the climate, it was surprising it hadn't happened before.
Personally, she thought the energized perimeter excessive. No local predator could force an entry into the station. But it was SOP, and she'd had no say in the station's construction. Even so, she was making immediate repairs only at Pulickel's insistence.
Of more interest was the bare piece of land near the main entrance to the elevator shaft. A circular patch of ground had been wiped clean of soil and all plant matter to a depth of several centimeters, right down to exposed rock. She and Pulickel had discussed possible explanations ranging from a miniature tornadic touchdown to a freak bolt of lightning. Most puzzling was the near perfection of the circle.
Save for the single perimeter post, the station itself had come through the mastorm undamaged as always, a tribute to its designers and builders. Despite delays, she expected to have the fence up and running within the hour.
It was while they were out sweating and straining in the heat of late morning that Naharira had come to stand and stare. And to make conversation.
"I'm .aid I don't understand," she told the attentive villager. "What are you trying to tell me?"
The big person leaned on his simple hoe, rocking slightly on his huge feet. "We want you and Pu'il to understand what it means to be Parramati. We want you to understand why we don't want a treaty that will bring others of your kind, or of the shiny-skinned ones, here to dig up our land."
Fawn was on her knees, peering into the eviscerated interior of the damaged stanchion. As she listened, she removed a replacement module from its clear plastic casing and carefully snapped it in place. Within the stanchion, a pair of tiny green lights winked to life.
"There will be a treaty." She snapped connectors back into place. "Either with us or with the AAnn. It's going to happen, so the big persons in Torrelauapa and the other villages might as well get used to the idea." She made a face. "It's called progress."
Naharira scuffed the ground with his hoe. "Let me put it another way. The Parramati feel that any such treaty would constitute a defacement of kusum."
Blinking away sweat, she looked up at the native. "I don't see that it damages kusum at all. The proposals don't ask the Parramati to change their way of life in any fashion. They simply enshrine an already existing friendship."
"It would lead to the opening of other roads and other ways. Roads that lead to attractive options and new things that are appealing to youth who have not yet been instructed in the fullness of kusum. Tradition would be eroded. We have heard how this has happened elsewhere. Heritage has been sacrificed for shiny toys that honor no kusum." He shifted on his hoe.
"You and the shiny-skinned AAnn have knowledge, but the Parramati have life. Knowledge without life is nothing. Everything we have, everything we are, arises from our kusum. Change that, substitute for it, and we will lose that which makes us what we are. Our kusum has kept us safe in war and drought and bad times while many around us were suffering. That is because other seni have forgotten or put aside their kusum in favor of new fads and tempting ideas. Only the Parramati still hew to an unchanged kusum. We have done so for as long as memory serves. We must continue to do so."
"You don't need to tell me. I've heard the same liturgy from Ascela and other big persons." She was trying to be polite to the native while concentrating on the repair job. "I see your point."
"I'm not sure that you do." Naharira was being very direct this morning. "But we would like you to. We are not like the Eolurro or the Simisant. Only the Parramati know well the roads. It is because of this, because of our kusum, that we see the world as it truly is."
Fawn carefully closed a connection, smiled to herself as a last green light came to life. "And how is the world, according to the Parramati?" High up a flaring ulawari tree, a chiji squealed like a bagpipe badly in need of tuning.
"The Parramati see everything in terms of space." The big person gestured broadly to encompass the surrounding forest. "Each location in space has its own access point, and each point has power. The big people among the Parramati can recognize these points of power. Most of them are concentrated in the stones. Those who know the ways can use the stones to open the roads to these other spaces. We do not always use them, but we know they are there. Our kusum has always allowed us to do this. Others do not know the ways, or do not possess the right stones."
"That's all very interesting." She leaned back and began buttoning up the refurbished stanchion. "But what does it have to do with the proposed treaty?"
Naharira sighed. "We are hoping that if you come to see space as the Parramati do, you will better understand why we do not want, do not need, and cannot afford to have closer ties with your civilization. We would like for you to agree to become more Parramati."
Its integrity restored, the perimeter fence could be switched back on at any time. Satisfied, she rose, towering over the attentive big person. "I'm still not sure that I follow you. Are you proposing that Pulickel and I undergo some sort of initiation ceremony?" It took a moment to find the right words.
Naharira showed the many teeth in his long, narrow snout. "It is more of a demonstration, so that you may better comprehend certain things that are difficult to convey only with words. It was not a decision easily arrived at, but it is felt that something needs to be done so that you may understand. Your ignorance is not your fault."
The sardonic tone of her reply was lost on the native. "Gee, thanks."
"You are welcome. It is felt that when you see that our ways are stronger, you and your people will understand our desire to be left alone and our wish to forgo the benefits of your society."
"If it's that important to you, then of course we will participate in your show, or demonstration, or whatever it is." She yelled and gesticulated in Pulickel's direction. Almost finished with his inspection, he turned and waved casually back.
Naharira continued. "Tomorrow there will be a ceremony marking the planting of the pohoroh root. A growing stone will be used to ensure a bountiful crop. At that time you will be shown the relevant road. When you see it open, perhaps then you will understand why we do not need your ways, your machines, or your treaty." He straightened proudly.
"It is a great honor. Only big persons may use the stones to open the roads. Only they know the ways of power that are handed down from generation to generation."
"We're flattered to be included," Fawn replied, not knowing what else to say. "I'm sure Pulickel will feel the same way." The crop-blessing ceremony, or whatever it was, sounded interesting. Anything that expanded their insight into Parramati sociology was worth recording, just as anything that solidified the developing relationship was to be encouraged.
Hefting his hoe as he turned to go, Naharira eyed the much taller human curiously. "Tell me one thing, F' an. You and the male human live together but are not mated. You have no cubs. This is a thing much speculated upon in the village. Do you plan to mate?"
The abrupt change of subject caught her off guard. "Noooo, I don't think so."
"If you do, Ascela said to tell you that she would be honored to perform the ceremony."
She smiled. "Tell her thank you, but we have no plans to, um, mate. Our relationship is strictly professional. Different families can till the same hapirri patch."
"Yes, that is so," the big person agreed.
"Pulickel," she added, gesturing in her associate's direction, "is not what, among my people, would be called my type."
“ ‘Type.’ “ The native looked thoughtful. "We have much still to learn about the meanings of words."
She strove to return the discussion to more significant and less personal matters. "We'll be happy to be initiated as stone people, or whatever, and to learn more about the ways of the Parramati and your roads."
"Then it is settled. Tomorrow at first sun."
Not being much of a morning person, she winced internally. "First sun?"
"It is the proper time, when the flowers of the pohoroh first open to the light."
"Of course. That makes sense. You must excuse my ignorance." Bending, she picked up her repair kit. "Tomorrow at first sun then, in the village."
"You must be at the base of the gardens before first light so you can be on the mountain when the sun shows itself." Naharira was insistent.
She winced again. "We'll be there."
Exhibiting wonderful flexibility, the long snout twisted sideways. "I will come and guide you. It will not be hard for you to find your way. You have lights that let you see in the dark."
"That's right." Unable to resist, she added, "If you agreed to the treaty, you could have such lights for yourself. You could turn night into day for every village in the archipelago."
"Why would we want to do that?" With a vertical hop and midair pivot, the native turned away from her. "If the night was made into day, how would a person sleep?"
With that the visiting big person headed off toward the trail that led through the forest and back to the village, covering the open sections of ground in long, graceful bounds. Fawn watched him go.
A simple folk, the Parramati. Straightforward and stubborn, but they'd come around sooner or later. Meanwhile, attending this planting ceremony or whatever it was would establish one more bond between them. It was important, she knew. Anything involving the sacred stones was important. It would probably prove interesting, as well, except for the part that involved rising before sunup.
She called across the clearing beneath the station. "Better turn in early tonight, Pulickel! We have an early morning appointment."
His querulous reply rose above the background mutter of the jungle. "What for?"
"To look at roots, and rocks. Would you rather be a root person or a rock person?"
"What's that?" He put a hand to one ear, but she only grinned at him. She could give him the details later. There was no urgency.
After all, nothing exceptional was going to happen.