Part 12 (1/2)

Then, out of nothingness- From between the twin suns it came-an orb of spinning light with a dozen tails-in moments it had grown from a point to a circle- The enemy's thanopstru! Artas thought.

He had to disengage the hyperdrive somehow, had to steer himself into a position to stop it! If I collide with it head on, he thought. Artas sent commands to the comet's...o...b..ard nerve center. He worked the waldoes inside the comet's chambers as easily as if they were his own limbs-he tugged at the new memories he was now connected to, pulling out specs and plans, trying to rig the computer to override its programmed pathway- ”Behold,” the s.h.i.+van-Jalar whispered. ”What a privilege it is to witness the world's ending.”

The privy council was gathered around the throne now, each of them prostrate, in awe, making a formal tableau of obeisance to the power of the G.o.ds. If any of them felt fear or panic, they had mastered it; the inevitability of death made panic meaningless.

G.o.d for a day, Dr. Halliday was thinking, as he peered at the burning minarets through the eyes of the s.h.i.+van-Jalar.

For a moment, a single moment, Ariela was thinking as tendrils of poison began to slither into the holiest of holies. And she kissed her beloved one more time, trying to draw the moment out as best she could, but the poison was already corrupting her breathing, and the tears were beginning to spurt from the acrid fumes.

The last thing Taruna saw, as the tide of deathlight swept across the sky- Artas, alone, forsaken, in the cold dark emptiness of s.p.a.ce, and- The angel.

”Save my son,” she murmured. The heat was unendurable.

The angel stood there, against the burning city, a thousand times the height of a man, the angel with the dark ringlets and haunting eyes, the angel who had called herself Deanna-she stood there with her arms outstretched- ”My son-you will be with him-in that desolate future-you must save him-promise me-promise me!” Taruna screamed.

And the angel smiled an enigmatic smile before she dissipated and the fire consumed Taruna.

The comet dodged! And swerved! I could smash headlong into him, Artas thought. But then I would fail in my missionnever to sleep until Thanet is destroyed. He steered the thanopstru back into the path of the enemy. Perhaps if I come so close that it has to change flight path or be destroyed- This was dangerous, so dangerous. The boys of Tanith had a game they played with their hoverboards, facing each other across a bridge, accelerating toward each other, seeing who would lose his nerve first- Artas did not understand. He knew only that the creature he had seen that morning-when he still lived in the alley of the pleasure women-was still with him. ”Give me strength,” his mind whispered, ”whoever you are, whatever-”

The thanopstru was a large-scale weapon, designed to shatter a world-not to battle other star vessels at close quarters. It had a primitive system of s.h.i.+elds and a few defensive banks of energy beams that could be deployed, but they drew energy from the experimental hyperdrive.

I can take him out, Artas thought.

With a supreme effort, he wrenched himself off course and set an intersect flight path toward his enemy and- Lashed out, death beams that. seemed to come from a thousand fingers- He had grazed the enemy! The Thanetian thanopstru was spinning out of control. Artas drew more power, pursued- The Thanetian dodged. Artas darted.

The Thanetian began to tumble toward Tanith's atmosphere and- Artas spun away.

Was there another lonely boy inside that comet, programmed with implacable hatred?

No time to think of that. Artas reversed course, plunged himself downward toward the gravity well, knowing in his heart that it was too late- The demon comet was a fireball-soon it would impact on the main continent-and Artas realized in moments he too was going to add to the destruction of his homeworld.

The enemy thanopstru was on a collision course with Tanith, and nothing would stop it. It would activate. Everyone would die. Everyone.

It was too late to save them. Only vengeance remained.

Artas reached out with his nerves of silicon, his sinews of steel-reached into the comet's core to pull out every erg of energy from its sputtering warp drive. He dredged up his last remaining strength. The gravity well was drawing him in. He tried to wrest himself away, like a wayward child struggling free from his mother's arms. Tanith was his mother, holding on, calling his name, but Tanith was no more, and only hate remained.

In a moment the warp drive would kick in.

In a moment he would get his revenge.

He was beyond the star system now, and the twin spheres of Tanith's suns were already becoming just two more stars, still the brightest, but no longer dominating the blackness of s.p.a.ce.

Engage! he commanded the comet's drive. His silicon nerves locked on, his brain sent the preprogrammed signal that would activate the faster-than-light engines.

But there was nothing.

The s.h.i.+van-Jalar had been right. The worst-case scenario was in effect.

He had five thousand years of waking dream ahead of him, five thousand years for hate to fester, to grow, to become unstoppable.

The angel named Adam said, We'll meet again.

And faded.

On Tanith, there was light-

Part Four

The Planet That Waited for Death The s.h.i.+van-Jalar is my protector; I am but a crumb that has fallen from his table.

The High s.h.i.+vantak is as the right hand of the s.h.i.+van-Jalar; he shall be to me as a G.o.d.

They shall lead me toward the fields of light; They shall squeeze for me the juice of the peftifesht, And I shall neither hunger nor thirst.

But for them would I have no soul, But for them would I sing no song.

What to me is the shadow of death?

Death is but a shadow, And the s.h.i.+van-Jalar is the light.

-from the Holy Panvivlion ONCE AGAIN, PICARD TURNED to Dr. Halliday's field notes. Soon, the Captain would face the High s.h.i.+vantak himself. He needed all the information he could glean.

CONFIDENTIAL REPORT:.

Dr. Robert Halliday's field notes Let me try to say a few words about the religion of the Thanetians. I have been trying to make sense of it all since getting here.

First, as I've said in previous reports, they believe that everything that has ever happened will happen again, and that everything that is happening now has already happened. I don't know how many members of the board reading these notes are familiar with ancient India, but that's an important old Earth civilization with the same cyclical view of the universe. They also used to have a caste system, but nothing like as intricate as the one here, with the complex dietary laws attendant upon each.

Their concept of G.o.dhood is very interesting. Superficially, there seem to be many of them, and they're always invoking various G.o.ds when they are annoyed. There's even a G.o.d for constipation. And there are statues of the G.o.ds everywhere, of course, shrines, little nooks on street corners where one can leave offerings, and so on; that too is like ancient India and such cultures. But when it comes to putting your finger on a G.o.d as a supernatural being, the Thanetians become pretty nebulous. They will start to tell you that all the G.o.ds are aspects of each other, and when you press them they will say that the High s.h.i.+vantak is the sole person who can interpret the nature of G.o.dhead. And the High s.h.i.+vantak, so far, isn't talking, although there are times when I think that he appropriates the essence of G.o.dhood unto himself.

The High s.h.i.+vantak, in theory, rules as the regent for the s.h.i.+van-Jalar, except that there hasn't been one of those in all of Thanet's recorded history. From time to time, the s.h.i.+vantak makes p.r.o.nouncements in the name of the s.h.i.+van-Jalar, and many a.s.sume he is communicating with that mythical being by way of some kind of psychic projection. Another possibility is that he is simply making it all up in order to appear even more powerful than he actually is.

His position is by no means ceremonial, even though bureaucrats do just about everything on Thanet; his every whim is catered to, and he is the one person on Thanet who is exempt from the heresy laws.

Ah, yes, those heresy laws! Once in a while, their equivalent of the Spanish Inquisition goes on a rampage, and, barbaric as it sounds, they actually do burn people at the stake. It's a very sophisticated stake, with all the trappings of higher civilization, but a stake nonetheless. If one says the wrong thing, a heresy trial can be a drawn-out process, and lawyers for such cases belong to a caste that is not allowed to enter public buildings; they must project a hologram into the court to avoid contamination by a heretic's touch. As one can imagine, then, there is a lot of prejudgment involved as soon as the word ”heretic” is invoked, and few are acquitted. This witch-hunting orthodoxy is the darkness that underlies the mozaic-like beauty of this planet's culture.

When the High s.h.i.+vantak leaves his roost, his feet are not permitted to touch the ground. He rides on a palanquin powered by a low-level antigravity device, with ceremonial guards before and behind. Half-naked woman with censers walk in front of the guards to strew flowers and spread the fragrance of his divinity around. As one might imagine, it's not conducive to humility. Indeed, the caste system itself tends to intensify people's propensity to lord it over others, and to grovel; there's always someone to be better than, and worse than, in this society.

The High s.h.i.+vantak's day is circ.u.mscribed by ritual. His rising and sleeping are regulated by astrological calculations; and each evening he must speak a blessing from the uppermost story of his palace over the entire city. Some Thanetians wait outside in the square all afternoon in order to receive the blessing personally. It is believed that receiving one thousand or more such blessings in the course of a lifetime will cause the supplicant to be reborn, during the next five-thousand-year cycle, in a caste one grade higher than his present caste. Since there seem to be a pretty much endless number of caste grades, this more or less ensures a constant presence of a vast throng outside the palace from early afternoon onward. There are also those who believe that the dawn will not come without the blessing having been given the previous evening.