SF i fantasy

[luba]

u prilog akciji kupujmo domace, kradem iz daretovog spojlera:

Romanom "Senka naše želje" Darka Tuševljakovića "Čarobnjaci" se pridružuju izdavačima koji podržavaju domaću fantastiku, što je - naravno - za svaku pohvalu.

ko voli stendbajmi, dobice ga i to u pancevu.izdavac poredi darka sa tim safonom, donekle ima pravo, mada meni nekako vise vuce na dzefrija forda.atmosfera odlicna, decacke muke, tantalove i druge, savrseno opisane, jezik i stil za 5.

[goofs]

Uzeo u Dereti, onaj ruski METRO 2033 za 1200 kinti...Ajd setite me vredili to toliko i dajte neki utisak, pre nego pocnem... Pominjali su mi i neki nastavak na sajmu?

Kako 1200, ja ga uz'o za cca 1000? Ima nastavak - Metro 2034, kazu oko Nove godine ce da izadje.

[dare...]

„Zašto volim epsku fantastiku? Verujem da fantastiku čitamo da bismo ponovo otkrili boje. Da okusimo jake začine i čujemo pesmu sirena. U fantastici ima nečeg drevnog i istinitog što se obraća nekom dubljem nivou u nama, onom detetu koje je sanjalo da će jednoga dana loviti u mračnim šumama, gostiti se pod bregovima, i pronaći ljubav koja će trajati zauvek negde južno od Oza i severno od zemlje Šangri La.Neka im njihov raj. Kad umrem, ja bih radije da odem u Srednju zemlju.“Džordž R. R. MartinU prvom tomu svoje retrospektive Martin nam predstavlja svoje prve mladalačke književne pokušaje, svoje prve profesionalno objavljene pripovetke, među kojima se posebno ističe Pesma za Liju za koju je Martin dobio svoju prvu nagradu Hugo. U svim tim pričama već se jasno vidi izuzetan dar za stvaranje nesvakidašnjih svetova, upečatljivih likova, snažnih zapleta kao i neke od tema koje će mnogo godina kasnije u potpunosti obraditi u svom slavnom serijalu.Sve je to protkano Martinovim duhovitim autobiografskim crticama o njegovom odrastanju, porodici, književnim uticajima i pokušajima da objavi svoje prve radove.U drugom tomu ove obimne retrospektive proslavljeni pisac nas vodi kroz svoje prve priče u žanru epske fantastike, kao i kroz fazu svog rada kojom je dominirao horor – ali često s primesama naučne fantastike, kao što su čuvena pripovetka Kraljevi peska o futurističkim kućnim ljubimcima koji se otimaju kontroli ili horor remek-delo Kruškasti čovek o istinski jezivom čoveku iz susedstva. Sve je to začinjeno Martinovim britkim zapažanjima o sumnjama, radostima i uspesima pisca koji pokušava da se profesionalno bavi svojom umetnošću.U trećem tomu Martinove retrospektive pratimo manje poznat deo njegove karijere – rad u Holivudu i scenarija koje je pisao, između ostalog za Zonu sumraka. Tu je takođe izbor priča iz veoma popularnog serijala Divlje karte čiji je on dugogodišnji urednik, a na kraju i pripovetke koje nam predstavljaju istinskog majstora na vrhuncu svojih moći, kao što su višestruko nagrađivana priča o vukodlacima Razmena kože ili Portreti njegove dece.Završavam prvi tom... Lepo je čitati... Opušta...Martinovi uvodi u kojima govori o počecima su izuzetno zanimljivi. Zanimljiviji od početničkih priča. (za neke od njih nisam imao živaca). Interesantno da je sve jednu od tih prvih priča prodao samo upornošću iz tamo nekog 20-30 pokušaja.."Pesma za Liju" je naravno prava stvar... Pruža baš onaj osećaj, zadivljenosti, začudjenosti i ushićenosti za kojim traga svaki ljubitelj fantastike...

[Moća]

Dare jos jedna preporuka za Metro 2033 meni je bila i strasna u pojedinim delovima tako da ne bih da igram igru koja je izasla po knjizi. :D

[dare...]

Dare jos jedna preporuka za Metro 2033 meni je bila i strasna u pojedinim delovima tako da ne bih da igram igru koja je izasla po knjizi. :D

Hvala. Pročitao Metro. OK. je. U stvari taj strah od nepoznatog iz mraka vuce celu pricu i daje joj atmosferu.Klasika. Junak, potraga, mrak i strah. Ok.BTW.Uzeo i Bižolkinog "Plaćenika" /Majlsa Vorkosigana/ -laki SF. Imam par nastavaa u Alogratitam hrvatskom izdanju, koje mi je poklonila svojevremeno Zlica od Opaka, koje već dugo nema na forumu. Edited December 18, 2010 by dare...

[Pantelija jr]

Ovo Martinovo "prezvakavanje i unovcavanje pocetnickih radova i s njima povezanih muka" koje je Dare izreklamirao ovdje izgleda kao nesto sto bih i ja rado procitao, dok cekam da matora drtina taj uvazeni stvaralac, Dzordz R.R., napokon zavrsi sljedeci nastavak "Pjesme leda i vatre"... Naravno, ako se to uopste i dogodi prije nego mu holesterol doaka (pu, pu, pu...)Sto se tice ove njegove prvonagradjene price, "Pjesma za Liju", moze malo podsjecanje o cemu se tu radi? Naslov mi zvuci vrlo poznato, ali ne mogu da se sjetim jesam li je citao ili ne.

[Dankan Ajdaho]

Ovo Martinovo "prezvakavanje i unovcavanje pocetnickih radova i s njima povezanih muka" koje je Dare izreklamirao ovdje izgleda kao nesto sto bih i ja rado procitao, dok cekam da matora drtina taj uvazeni stvaralac, Dzordz R.R., napokon zavrsi sljedeci nastavak "Pjesme leda i vatre"... Naravno, ako se to uopste i dogodi prije nego mu holesterol doaka (pu, pu, pu...)

Jeste prava stvar. Većina priča je već objavljena na srpskom ili hrvatskom jeziku u raznoraznim publikacijama. Ima mnogo zaista izuzetnih priča. Ja ću se ovim častiti za Novu Godinu.

Sto se tice ove njegove prvonagradjene price, "Pjesma za Liju", moze malo podsjecanje o cemu se tu radi? Naslov mi zvuci vrlo poznato, ali ne mogu da se sjetim jesam li je citao ili ne.

A Song for LyaGeorge R. R, Martin The cities of the Shkeen are old, older far than man's, and the great rust-red metropolis that rosefrom their sacred hill country had proved to be the oldest of them all. The Shkeen city had no name. Itneeded none. Though they built cities and towns by the hundreds and the thousands, the hill city had norivals. It was the largest in size and population, and it was alone in the sacred hills. It was their Rome,Mecca, Jerusalem; all in one. It was the city, and all Shkeen came to it at last, in the final days beforeUnion. That city had been ancient in the days before Rome fell, had been huge and sprawling when Babylonwas still a dream. But there was no feel of age to it. The human eye saw only miles and miles of low,red-brick domes; small hummocks of dried mud that covered the rolling hills like a rash. Inside they weredim and nearly airless. The rooms were small and the furniture crude. Yet it was not a grim city. Day after day it squatted in those scrubby hills, broiling under a hot sunthat sat in the sky like a weary orange melon; but the city teemed with life: smells of cooking, the soundsof laughter and talk and children running, the bustle and sweat of brickmen repairing the domes, the bellsof the Joined ringing in the streets. The Shkeen were a lusty and exuberant people, almost childlike.Certainly there was nothing about them that told of great age or ancient wisdom. This is a young race,said the signs, this is a culture in its infancy. But that infancy had lasted more than fourteen thousand years. The human city was the real infant, less than ten Earth years old. It was built on the edge of the hills,between the Shkeen metropolis and the dusty brown plains where the spaceport had gone up. In humanterms, it was a beautiful city: open and airy, full of graceful archways and glistening fountains and wideboulevards lined by trees. The buildings were wrought of metal and colored plastic and native woods,and most of them were low in deference to Shkeen architecture. Most of them… the AdministrationTower was the exception, a polished blue steel needle that split a crystal sky. You could see it for miles in all directions. Lyanna spied it even before we landed, and we admired itfrom the air. The gaunt skyscrapers of Old Earth and Baldur were taller, and the fantastic webbed citiesof Arachne were far more beautiful—but that slim blue Tower was still imposing enough as it roseunrivaled to its lonely dominance above the sacred hills. The spaceport was in the shadow of the Tower, easy walking distance. But they met us anyway. Alow-slung scarlet aircar sat purring at the base of the ramp as we disembarked, with a driver loungingagainst the stick. Dino Valcarenghi stood next to it, leaning on the door and talking to an aide. Valcarenghi was the planetary administrator, the boy wonder of the sector. Young, of course, but I'dknown that. Short, and good-looking, in a dark, intense way, with black hair that curled thickly againsthis head and an easy, genial smile. He flashed us that smile then, when we stepped off the ramp, and reached to shake hands. "Hi," hebegan, "I'm glad to see you." There was no nonsense with formal introductions. He knew who we were,and we knew who he was, and Valcarenghi wasn't the kind of man who put much stock in ritual. Lyanna took his hand lightly in hers, and gave him her vampire look: big, dark eyes opened wide andstaring, thin mouth lifted in a tiny faint smile. She's a small girl, almost waiflike, with short brown hair anda child's figure. She can look very fragile, very helpless. When she wants to. But she rattles people withthat look. If they know Lya's a telepath, they figure she's poking around amid their innermost secrets.Actually she's playing with them. When Lyanna is really reading, her whole body goes stiff and you canalmost see her tremble. And those big, soul-sucking eyes get narrow and hard and opaque. But not many people know that, so they squirm under her vampire eyes and look the other way andhurry to release her hand. Not Valcarenghi, though. He just smiled and stared back, then moved on tome. I was reading when I took his hand—my standard operating procedure. Also a bad habit, I guess,since it's put some promising friendships into an early grave. My talent isn't equal to Lya's. But it's not asdemanding, either. I read emotions. Valcarenghi's geniality came through strong and genuine. Withnothing behind it, or at least nothing that was close enough to the surface for me to catch. We also shook hands with the aide, a middle-aged blond stork named Nelson Gourlay. ThenValcarenghi ushered everybody into the aircar and we took off. "I imagine you're tired," he said after wewere airborne, "so we'll save the tour of the city and head straight for the Tower. Nelse will show youyour quarters, then you can join us for a drink, and we'll talk over the problem. You've read the materialsI sent?" "Yes," I said. Lya nodded. "Interesting background, but I'm not sure why we're here." "We'll get to that soon enough," Valcarenghi replied. "I ought to be letting you enjoy the scenery." Hegestured toward the window, smiled, and fell silent. So Lya and I enjoyed the scenery, or as much as we could enjoy during the five-minute flight fromspaceport to tower. The aircar was whisking down the main street at treetop level, stirring up a breezethat whipped the thin branches as we went by. It was cool and dark in the interior of the car, but outsidethe Shkeen sun was riding toward noon, and you could see the heat waves shimmering from thepavement. The population must have been inside huddled around their air-conditioners, because we sawvery little traffic. We got out near the main entrance to the Tower and walked through a huge, sparkling-clean lobby.Valcarenghi left us then to talk to some underlings. Gourlay led us into one of the tubes and we shot upfifty floors. Then we waltzed past a secretary into another, private tube, and climbed some more. Our rooms were lovely, carpeted in cool green, and paneled with wood. There was a completelibrary there, mostly Earth classics bound in synthaleather, with a few novels from Baldur, our homeworld. Somebody had been researching our tastes. One of the walls of the bedroom was tinted glass,giving a panoramic view of the city far below us, with a control that could darken it for sleeping. Gourlay showed it to us dutifully, like a dour bellhop. I read him briefly though, and found noresentment. He was nervous, but only slightly. There was honest affection there for someone. Us?Valcarenghi? Lya sat down on one of the twin beds. "Is someone bringing our luggage?" she asked. Gourlay nodded. "You'll be well taken care of," he said. "Anything you want, ask." "Don't worry, we will," I said. I dropped to the second bed, and gestured Gourlay to a chair. "Howlong you been here?" "Six years," he said, taking the chair gratefully and sprawling out all over it. "I'm one of the veterans.I've worked under four administrators now. Dino, and Stuart before him, and Gustaffson before him. Iwas even under Rockwood a few months." Lya perked up, crossing her legs under her and leaning forward. "That was all Rockwood lasted,wasn't it?" "Right," Gourlay said. "He didn't like the planet, took a quick demotion to assistant administratorsomeplace else. I didn't care much, to tell the truth. He was the nervous type, always giving orders toprove who was boss." "And Valcarenghi?" I asked. Gourlay made a smile look like a yawn. "Dino? Dino's OK, the best of the lot. He's good, knowshe's good. He's only been here two months, but he's gotten a lot done, and he's made a lot of friends. Hetreats the staff like people, calls everybody by his first name, all that stuff. People like that." I was reading, and I read sincerity. It was Valcarenghi that Gourlay was affectionate toward, then.He believed what he was saying. I had more questions, but I didn't get to ask them. Gourlay got up suddenly. "I really shouldn't stay,"he said. "You want to rest, right? Come up to the top in about two hours and we'll go over things withyou. You know where the tube is?" We nodded, and Gourlay left. I turned to Lyanna. "What do you think?" She lay back on the bed and considered the ceiling. "I don't know," she said. "I wasn't reading. Iwonder why they've had so many administrators. And why they wanted us." "We're Talented," I said, smiling. With the capital, yes. Lyanna and I have been tested and registeredas psi Talents, and we have the licenses to prove it. "Uh-huh," she said, turning on her side and smiling back at me. Not her vampire half-smile this time.Her sexy little girl smile. "Valcarenghi wants us to get some rest," I said. "It's probably not a bad idea." Lya bounced out of bed. "OK," she said, "but these twins have got to go." "We could push them together." She smiled again. We pushed them together. And we did get some sleep. Eventually. Our luggage was outside the door when we woke. We changed into fresh clothes, old casual stuff,counting on Valcarenghi's notorious lack of pomp. The tube took us to the top of the Tower. The office of the planetary administrator was hardly an office. There was no desk, none of the usualtrappings. Just a bar and lush blue carpets that swallowed us ankle high, and six or seven scatteredchairs. Plus lots of space and sunlight, with Shkea laid out at our feet beyond the tinted glass. All fourwalls this time. Valcarenghi and Gourlay were waiting for us, and Valcarenghi did the bartending chores personally. Ididn't recognize the beverage, but it was cool and spicy and aromatic, with a real sting to it. I sipped itgratefully. For some reason I felt I needed a lift. "Shkeen wine," Valcarenghi said, smiling, in answer to an unasked question. "They've got a name forit, but I can't pronounce it yet. But give me time. I've only been here two months, and the language isrough." "You're learning Shkeen?" Lya asked, surprised. I knew why. Shkeen is rough on human tongues,but the natives learned Terran with stunning ease. Most people accepted that happily, and just forgotabout the difficulties of cracking the alien language. "It gives me an insight into the way they think," Valcarenghi said. "At least that's the theory." Hesmiled. I read him again, although it was more difficult. Physical contact makes things sharper. Again, I got asimple emotion, close to the surface—pride this time. With pleasure mixed in. I chalked that up to thewine. Nothing beneath. "However you pronounce the drink, I like it," I said. "The Shkeen produce a wide variety of liquors and foodstuffs," Gourlay put in. "We've cleared manyfor export already, and we're checking others. Market should be good." "You'll have a chance to sample more of the local produce this evening," Valcarenghi said. "I've setup a tour of the city, with a stop or two in Shkeentown. For a settlement of our size, our night life is fairlyinteresting. I'll be your guide." "Sounds good," I said. Lya was smiling too. A tour was unusually considerate. Most Normals feeluneasy around Talents, so they rush us in to do whatever they want done, then rush us out again asquickly as possible. They certainly don't socialize with us. "Now—the problem," Valcarenghi said, lowering his drink and leaning forward in the chair. "Youread about the Cult of the Union?" "A Shkeen religion," Lya said. "The Shkeen religion," corrected Valcarenghi. "Every one of them is a believer. This is a planetwithout heretics." "We read the materials you sent on it," Lya said. "Along with everything else." "What do you think?" I shrugged. "Grim. Primitive. But no more than any number of others I've read about. The Shkeenaren't very advanced, after all. There were religions on Old Earth that included human sacrifice." Valcarenghi shook his head, and looked toward Gourlay. "No, you don't understand," Gourlay started, putting his drink down on the carpet. "I've beenstudying their religion for six years. It's like no other in history. Nothing on Old Earth like it, no sir. Nor inany other race we've encountered. "And Union, well, it's wrong to compare it to human sacrifice, just wrong. The Old Earth religionssacrificed one or two unwilling victims to appease their gods. Killed a handful to get mercy for themillions. And the handful generally protested. The Shkeen don't work it that way. The Greeshka takeseveryone. And they go willingly. Like lemmings they march off to the caves to be eaten alive by thoseparasites. Every Shkeen is Joined at forty, and goes to Final Union before he's fifty." I was confused. "All right," I said. "I see the distinction, I guess. But so what? Is this the problem? Iimagine that Union is rough on the Shkeen, but that's their business. Their religion is no worse than theritual cannibalism of the Hrangans, is it?" Valcarenghi finished his drink and got up, heading for the bar. As he poured himself a refill, he said,almost casually, "As far as I know, Hrangan cannibalism has claimed no human converts." Lya looked startled. I felt startled. I sat up and stared. "What?" Valcarenghi headed back to his seat, glass in hand. "Human converts have been joining the Cult ofthe Union. Dozens of them are already Joined. None of them have achieved full Union yet, but that's onlya question of time." He sat down, and looked at Gourlay. So did we. The gangling blond aide picked up the narrative. "The first convert was about seven years ago.Nearly a year before I got here, two and a half after Shkea was discovered and the settlement built. Guynamed Magly. Psi-psych, worked closely with the Shkeen. He was it for two years. Then another in '08,more than next year. And the rate's been climbing every since. There was one big one. Phil Gustaffson." Lya blinked. "The planetary administrator?" "The same," said Gourlay. "We've had a lot of administrators. Gustaffson came in after Rockwoodcouldn't stand it. He was a big, gruff old guy. Everybody loved him. He'd lost his wife and kids on his lastassignment, but you'd never have known it. He was always hearty, full of fun. Well, he got interested inthe Shkeen religion, started talking to them. Talked to Magly and some of the other converts too. Evenwent to see a Greeshka. That shook him up real bad for a while. But finally he got over it, went back tohis researches. I worked with him, but I never guessed what he had in mind. A little over a year ago, heconverted. He's Joined now. Nobody's ever been accepted that fast. I hear talk in Shkeentown that hemay even be admitted to Final Union, rushed right in. Well, Phil was administrator here longer thananybody else. People liked him, and when he went over, a lot of his friends followed. The rate's way upnow." "Not quite one percent, and rising," Valcarenghi said. "That seems low, but remember what it means.One percent of the people in my settlement are choosing a religion that includes a very unpleasant form ofsuicide." Lya looked from him to Gourlay and back again. "Why hasn't this been reported?" "It should have been," Valcarenghi said. "But Stuart succeeded Gustaffson, and he was scared stiff ofa scandal. There's no law against humans adopting an alien religion, so Stuart defined it as a nonproblem.He reported the conversion rate routinely, and nobody higher up ever bothered to make the correlationand remember just what all these people were converting to." I finished my drink, set it down. "Go on," I said to Valcarenghi. "I define the situation as a problem," he said. "I don't care how few people are involved, the idea thathuman beings would allow the Greeshka to consume them alarms me. I've had a team of psychs on itsince I took over, but they're getting nowhere. I needed Talent. I want you two to find out why thesepeople are converting. Then I'll be able to deal with the situation." The problem was strange, but the assignment seemed straightforward enough. I read Valcarenghi tobe sure. His emotions were a bit more complex this time, but not much. Confidence above all: he wassure we could handle the problem. There was honest concern there, but no fear, and not even a hint ofdeception. Again, I couldn't Catch anything below the surface. Valcarenghi kept his hidden turmoil wellhidden, if he had any. I glanced at Lyanna. She was sitting awkwardly in her chair, and her fingers were wrapped verytightly around her wine glass. Reading. Then she loosened up and looked my way and nodded. "All right," I said. "I think we can do it." Valcarenghi smiled. "That I never doubted," he said. "It was only a question of whether you would.But enough of business for tonight. I've promised you a night on the town, and I always try to deliver onmy promises. I'll meet you downstairs in the lobby in a half-hour." Lya and I changed into something more formal back in our room. I picked a dark blue tunic, withwhite slacks and a matching mesh scarf. Not the height of fashion, but I was hoping that Shkea would beseveral months behind the times. Lya slipped into a silky white skintight with a tracery of thin blue linesthat flowed over her in sensuous patterns in response to her body heat. The lines were definitelylecherous, accentuating her thin figure with a singleminded determination. A blue raincape completed theoutfit. "Valcarenghi's funny," she said as she fastened it. "Oh?" I was struggling with the sealseam on my tunic, which refused to seal. "You catch somethingwhen you read him?" "No," she said. She finished attaching the cape and admired herself in the mirror. Then she spuntoward me, the cape swirling behind her. "That's it. He was thinking what he was saying. Oh, variations inthe wording, of course, but nothing important. His mind was on what we were discussing, and behind thatthere was only a wall." She smiled. "Didn't get a single one of his deep dark secrets." I finally conquered the sealseam. "Tsk," I said. "Well, you get another chance tonight." That got me a grimace. "The hell I do. I don't read people on off-time. It isn't fair. Besides, it's such astrain. I wish I could catch thoughts as easily as you do feelings." "The price of Talent," I said. "You're more Talented, your price is higher." I rummaged in our luggagefor a raincape, but I didn't find anything that went well, so I decided not to wear one. Capes were out,anyway. "I didn't get much on Valcarenghi either. You could have told as much by watching his face. Hemust be a very disciplined mind. But I'll forgive him. He serves good wine." Lya nodded. "Right! That stuff did me good. Got rid of the headache I woke up with." "The altitude," I suggested. We headed for the door. The lobby was deserted, but Valcarenghi didn't keep us waiting long. This time he drove his ownaircar, a battered black job that had evidently been with him for a while. Gourlay wasn't the sociabletype, but Valcarenghi had a woman with him, a stunning auburn-haired vision named Laurie Blackburn.She was even younger than Valcarenghi—mid-twenties, by the look of her. It was sunset when we took off. The whole far horizon was a gorgeous tapestry in red and orange,and a cool breeze was blowing in from the plains. Valcarenghi left the coolers off and opened the carwindows, and we watched the city darken into twilight as we drove. Dinner was at a plush restaurant with Baldurian decor—to make us feel comfortable, I guessed. Thefood, however, was very cosmopolitan. The spices, the herbs, the style of cooking were all Baldur. Themeats and vegetables were native. It made for an interesting combination. Valcarenghi ordered for allfour of us, and we wound up sampling about a dozen different dishes. My favorite was a tiny Shkeen birdthat they cooked in sourtang sauce. There wasn't very much of it, but what there was tasted great. Wealso polished off three bottles of wine during the meal: more of the Shkeen stuff we'd sampled thatafternoon, a flask of chilled Veltaar from Baldur, and some real Old Earth Burgundy. The talk warmed up quickly; Valcarenghi was a born storyteller and an equally good listener.Eventually, of course, the conversation got around to Shkea and the Shkeen. Laurie led it there. She'dbeen on Shkea for about six months, working toward an advanced degree in extee anthropology. Shewas trying to discover why the Shkeen civilization had remained frozen for so many millennia. "They're older than we are, you know," she told us. "They had cities before men were using tools. Itshould have been space-traveling Shkeen that stumbled on primitive men, not the other way around." "Aren't there theories on that already?" I asked. "Yes, but none of them is universally accepted," she said. "Cullen cites a lack of heavy metals, forexample. A factor, but is it the whole answer? Von Hamrin claims the Shkeen didn't get enoughcompetition. No big carnivores on the planet, so there was nothing to breed aggressiveness into the race.But he's come under a lot of fire. Shkea isn't all that idyllic; if it were, the Shkeen never would havereached their present level. Besides, what's the Greeshka if not a carnivore? It eats them, doesn't it?" "What do you think?" Lya asked. "I think it had something to do with the religion, but I haven't worked it all out yet. Dino's helping metalk to people and the Shkeen are open enough, but research isn't easy." She stopped suddenly andlooked at Lya hard. "For me, anyway. I imagine it'd be easier for you." We'd heard that before. Normals often figure that Talents have unfair advantages, which is perfectlyunderstandable. We do. But Laurie wasn't resentful. She delivered her statement in a wistful, speculativetone, instead of etching it in verbal acid. Valcarenghi leaned over and put an arm around her. "Hey," he said. "Enough shop talk. Robb andLya shouldn't be worrying about the Shkeen until tomorrow." Laurie looked at him, and smiled tentatively. "OK," she said lightly. "I get carried away. Sorry." "That's OK," I told her. "It's an interesting subject. Give us a day and we'll probably be gettingenthusiastic too." Lya nodded agreement, and added that Laurie would be the first to know if our work turned upanything that would support her theory. I was hardly listening. I know it's not polite to read Normalswhen you're out with them socially, but there are times I can't resist. Valcarenghi had his arm aroundLaurie and had pulled her toward him gently. I was curious. So I took a quick, guilty reading. He was very high—slightly drunk, I guess, and feeling veryconfident and protective. The master of the situation. But Laurie was a jumble—uncertainty, repressedanger, a vague fading hint of fright. And love, confused but very strong. I doubted that it was for me orLya. She loved Valcarenghi. I reached under the table, searching for Lya's hand, and found her knee. I squeezed it gently and shelooked at me and smiled. She wasn't reading, which was good. It bothered me that Laurie lovedValcarenghi, though I didn't know why, and I was just as glad that Lya didn't see my discontent. We finished off the last of the wine in short order, and Valcarenghi took care of the whole bill. Thenhe rose. "Onward!" he announced. "The night is fresh, and we've got visits to make." So we made visits. No holoshows or anything that drab, although the city had its share of theaters. Acasino was next on the list. Gambling was legal on Shkea, of course, and Valcarenghi would havelegalized it if it weren't. He supplied the chips and I lost some for him, as did Laurie. Lya was barredfrom playing; her Talent was too strong. Valcarenghi won big; he was a superb mindspin player, andpretty good at the traditional games too. Then came a bar. More drinks, plus local entertainment which was better than I would haveexpected. It was pitch black when we got out, and I assumed that the expedition was nearing its end.Valcarenghi surprised us. When we got back to the car, he reached under the controls, pulled out a boxof sober-ups, and passed them around. "Hey," I said. "You're driving. Why do I need this? I just barely got up here." "I'm about to take you to a genuine Shkeen cultural event, Robb," he said. "I don't want you makingrude comments or throwing up on the natives. Take your pill." I took my pill, and the buzz in my head began to fade. Valcarenghi already had the car airborne. Ileaned back and put my arm around Lya, and she rested her head on my shoulder. "Where are wegoing?" I asked. "Shkeentown," he replied, never looking back, "to their Great Hall. There's a Gathering tonight, and Ifigured you'd be interested." "It will be in Shkeen, of course," Laurie said, "but Dino can translate for you. I know a little of thelanguage too, and I'll fill in whatever he misses." Lya looked excited. We'd read about Gatherings, of course, but we hardly expected to go see oneon our first day of Shkea. The Gatherings were a species of religious rite; a mass confessional of sorts forpilgrims who were about to be admitted to the ranks of the Joined. Pilgrims swelled the hill city daily, butGatherings were conducted only three or four times a year when the numbers ofthose-about-to-be-Joined climbed high enough. The aircar streaked almost soundlessly through the brightly lit settlement, passing huge fountains thatdanced with a dozen colors and pretty ornamental arches that flowed like liquid fire. A few other carswere airborne, and here and there we flew above pedestrians strolling the city's broad malls. But mostpeople were inside, and light and music flooded from many of the homes we passed. Then, abruptly, the character of the city began to change. The level ground began to roll and heave,hills rose before us and then behind us, and the lights vanished. Below, the malls gave way to unlit roadsof crushed stone and dust, and the domes of glass and metal done in fashionable mock-Shkeen yieldedto their older brick brothers. The Shkeen city was quieter than its human counterpart; most of the houseswere darkly silent. Then, ahead of us, a hummock appeared that was larger than the others—almost a hill in itself, with abig arched door and a series of slitlike windows. And light leaked from this one, and noise, and therewere Shkeen outside. I suddenly realized that, although I'd been on Shkea for nearly a day, this was the first sight I'd caughtof the Shkeen. Not that I could see them all that clearly from an aircar at night. But I did see them. Theywere smaller than men—the tallest was around five feet—with big eyes and long arms. That was all Icould tell from above. Valcarenghi put the car down alongside the Great Hall, and we piled out. Shkeen were tricklingthrough the arch from several directions, but most of them were already inside. We joined the trickle, andnobody even looked twice at us, except for one character who hailed Valcarenghi in a thin, squeakyvoice and called him Dino. He had friends even here. The interior was one huge room, with a great crude platform built in the center and an immensecrowd of Shkeen circling it. The only light was from torches that were stuck in grooves along the walls,and on high poles surrounding the platform. Someone was speaking, and every one of those great,bulging eyes was turned his way. We four were the only humans in the Hall. The speaker, outlined brightly by the torches, was a fat, middle-aged Shkeen who moved his armsslowly, almost hypnotically, as he talked. His speech was a series of whistles, wheezes, and grunts, so Ididn't listen very closely. He was much too far away to read. I was reduced to studying his appearance,and that of other Shkeen near me. All of them were hairless, as far as I could see, with softish-lookingorange skin that was creased by a thousand tiny wrinkles. They wore simple shifts of crude, multicoloredcloth, and I had difficulty telling male from female. Valcarenghi leaned over toward me and whispered, careful to keep his voice low. "The speaker is afanner," he said. "He's telling the crowd how far he's come, and some of the hardships of his life." I looked around. Valcarenghi's whisper was the only sound in the place. Everyone else was deadquiet, eyes riveted on the platform, scarcely breathing. "He's saying that he has four brothers,"Valcarenghi told me. "Two have gone on to Final Union, one is among the Joined. The other is youngerthan himself, and now owns the farm." He frowned. "The speaker will never see his farm again," he said,more loudly, "but he's happy about it." "Bad crops?" asked Lya, smiling irreverently. She'd been listening to the same whisper. I gave her astern look. The Shkeen went on. Valcarenghi stumbled after him. "Now he's telling his crimes, all the things he'sdone that he's ashamed of, his blackest soul-secrets. He's had a sharp tongue at times, he's vain, once heactually struck his younger brother. Now he speaks of his wife, and the other women he has known. Hehas betrayed her many times, copulating with others. As a boy, he mated with animals for he fearedfemales. In recent years he has grown incapable, and his brother has serviced his wife." On and on and on it went, in incredible detail, detail that was both startling and frightening. Nointimacy went untold, no secret was left undisturbed. I stood and listened to Valcarenghi's whispers,shocked at first, finally growing bored with the squalor of it all. I began to get restless. I wondered brieflyif I knew any human half so well as I now knew this great fat Shkeen. Then I wondered whether Lyanna,with her Talent, knew anyone half so well. It was almost as if the speaker wanted all of us to live throughhis life right here and now. His speech lasted for what seemed hours, but finally it began to wind up. "He speaks now of Union,"Valcarenghi whispered. "He will be Joined, he is joyful about it, he has craved it for so long. His misery isat an end, his aloneness will cease, soon he shall walk the streets of the sacred city and peal his joy withthe bells. And then Final Union, in the years to come. He will be with his brothers in the afterlife." "No, Dino." This whisper was Laurie. "Quit wrapping human phrases around what he says. He willbe his brothers, he says. The phrase also implies they will be him." Valcarenghi smiled. "OK, Laurie. If you say so…" Suddenly the fat farmer was gone from the platform. The crowd rustled, and another figure took hisplace: much shorter, wrinkled excessively, one eye a great gaping hole. He began to speak, haltingly atfirst, then with greater skill. "This one is a brickman, he has worked many domes, he lives in the sacred city. His eye was lostmany years ago, when he fell from a dome and a sharp stick poked into him. The pain was very great,but he returned to work within a year, he did not beg for premature Union, he was very brave, he isproud of his courage. He has a wife, but they never had offspring, he is sad of that, he cannot talk to hiswife easily, they are apart even when together and she weeps at night, he is sad of that too, but he hasnever hurt her and…" It went on for hours again. My restlessness stirred again, but I cracked down on it—this was tooimportant. I let myself get lost in Valcarenghi's narration, and the story of the one-eyed Shkeen. Beforelong, I was riveted as closely to the tale as the aliens around me. It was hot and stuffy and all but airless inthe dome, and my tunic was getting sooty and soaked by sweat, some of it from the creatures whopressed around me. But I hardly noticed. The second speaker ended as had the first, with a long praise of the joy of being Joined and thecoming of Final Union. Toward the end, I hardly even needed Valcarenghi's translation—I could hear thehappiness in the voice of the Shkeen, and see it in his trembling figure. Or maybe I was reading,unconsciously. But I can't read at that distance—unless the target is emoting very hard. A third speaker ascended the platform, and spoke in a voice louder than the others. Valcarenghi keptpace. "A woman this time," he said. "She has carried eight children for her man, she has four sisters andthree brothers, she has farmed all her life, she. . ." Suddenly her speech seemed to peak, and she ended a long sequence with several sharp, highwhistles. Then she fell silent. The crowd, as one, began to respond with whistles of their own. An eerie,echoing music filled the Great Hall, and the Shkeen around us all began to sway and whistle. The womanlooked out at the scene from a bent and broken position. Valcarenghi started to translate, but he stumbled over something. Laurie cut in before he couldbacktrack. "She has now told them of great tragedy," she whispered. "They whistle to show their grief,their oneness with her pain." "Sympathy, yes," said Valcarenghi, taking over again. "When she was young, her brother grew ill,and seemed to be dying. Her parents told her to take him to the sacred hills, for they could not leave theyounger children. But she shattered a wheel on her cart through careless driving, and her brother diedupon the plains. He perished without Union. She blames herself." The Shkeen had begun again. Laurie began to translate, leaning close to us and using a soft whisper."Her brother died, she is saying again. She faulted him, denied him Union, now he is sundered and aloneand gone without… without…" "Afterlife," said Valcarenghi. "Without afterlife." "I'm not sure that's entirely right," Laurie said. "That concept is…" Valcarenghi waved her silent. "Listen," he said. He continued to translate. We listened to her story, told in Valcarenghi's increasingly hoarse whisper. She spoke longest of all,and her story was the grimmest of the three. When she finished, she too was replaced. But Valcarenghiput a hand on my shoulder and beckoned toward the exit. The cool night air hit like ice water, and I suddenly realized that I was drenched with sweat.Valcarenghi walked quickly toward the car. Behind us, the speaking was still in progress, and the Shkeenshowed no signs of tiring. "Gatherings go on for days, sometimes weeks," Laurie told us as we climbed inside the aircar. "TheShkeen listen in shifts, more or less—they try terribly to hear every word, but exhaustion gets to themsooner or later and they retire for brief rests, then return for more. It is a great honor to last through anentire Gathering without sleep." Valcarenghi shot us aloft. "I'm going to try that someday," he said. "I've never attended for more thana couple of hours, but I think I could make it if I fortified myself with drugs. We'll get more understandingbetween human and Shkeen if we participate more fully in their rituals." "Oh," I said. "Maybe Gustaffson felt the same way." Valcarenghi laughed lightly. "Yes, well, I don't intend to participate that fully." The trip home was a tired silence. I'd lost track of time but my body insisted that it was almost dawn.Lya, curled up under my arm, looked drained and empty and only half-awake. I felt the same way. We left the aircar in front of the Tower, and took the tubes up. I was past thinking. Sleep came very,very quickly. I dreamed that night. A good dream, I think, but it faded with the coming of the light, leaving meempty and feeling cheated. I lay there, after waking, with my arm around Lya and my eyes on the ceiling,trying to recall what the dream had been about. But nothing came. Instead, I found myself thinking about the Gathering, running it through again in my head. Finally Idisentangled myself and climbed out of bed. We'd darkened the glass, so the room was still pitch black.But I found the controls easily enough, and let through a trickle of late morning light. Lya mumbled some sort of sleepy protest and rolled over, but made no effort to get up. I left heralone in the bedroom and went out to our library, looking for a book on the Shkeen—something with alittle more detail than the material we'd been sent. No luck. The library was meant for recreation, notresearch. I found a viewscreen and punched up to Valcarenghi's office. Gourlay answered. "Hello," he said."Dino figured you'd be calling. He's not here right now. He's out arbitrating a trade contract. What doyou need?" "Books," I said, my voice still a little sleepy. "Something on the Shkeen." "That I can't do," Gourlay said. "Are none, really. Lots of papers and studies and monographs, butno full-fledged books. I'm going to write one, but I haven't gotten to it yet. Dino figured I could be yourresource, I guess." "Oh." "Got any questions?" I searched for a question, found none. "Not really," I said, shrugging. "I just wanted generalbackground, maybe some more information on Gatherings." "I can talk to you about that later," Gourlay said. "Dino figured you'd want to get to work today. Wecan bring people to the Tower, if you'd like, or you can get out to them." "We'll go out," I said quickly. Bringing subjects in for interviews fouls up everything. They get allanxious, and that covers up any emotions I might want to read, and they think on different things, too, soLyanna has trouble. "Fine," said Gourlay. "Dino put an aircar at your disposal. Pick it up down in the lobby. Also, they'llhave some keys for you, so you can come straight up here to the office without bothering with thesecretaries and all." "Thanks," I said. "Talk to you later." I flicked off the view-screen and walked back to the bedroom. Lya was sitting up, the covers around her waist. I sat down next to her and kissed her. She smiled,but didn't respond. "Hey," I said. "What's wrong?" "Headache," she replied. "I thought sober-ups were supposed to get rid of hangovers." "That's the theory. Mine worked pretty well." I went to the closet and began looking for something towear. "We should have headache pills around here someplace. I'm sure Dino wouldn't forget anythingthat obvious." "Umpf. Yes. Throw me some clothes." I grabbed one of her coveralls and tossed it across the room. Lya stood up and slipped into it while Idressed, then went off to the washroom. "Better," she said. "You're right, he didn't forget medicines." "He's the thorough sort." She smiled. "I guess. Laurie knows the language better, though. I read her. Dino made a couple ofmistakes in that translation last night." I'd guessed at something like that. No discredit to Valcarenghi; he was working on a four-monthhandicap, from what they'd said. I nodded. "Read anything else?" "No. I tried to get those speakers, but the distance was too much." She came up and took my hand."Where are we going today?" "Shkeentown," I said. "Let's try to find some of these Joined. I didn't notice any at the Gathering." "No. Those things are for Shkeen about-to-be-Joined." "So I hear. Let's go." We went. We stopped at the fourth level for a late breakfast in the Tower cafeteria, then got ouraircar pointed out to us by a man in the lobby. A sporty green four-seater, very common, veryinconspicuous. I didn't take the aircar all the way into the Shkeen city, figuring we'd get more of the feel of the placeif we went through on foot. So I dropped down just beyond the first range of hills, and we walked. The human city had seemed almost empty, but Shkeentown lived. The crushed-rock streets were fullof aliens, hustling back and forth busily, carrying loads of bricks and baskets of fruit and clothing. Therewere children everywhere, most of them naked: fat balls of orange energy that ran around us in circles,whistling and grunting and grinning, tugging at us every once in a while. The kids looked different from theadults. They had a few patches of reddish hair, for one thing, and their skins were still smooth andunwrinkled. They were the only ones who really paid any attention to us. The adult Shkeen just wentabout their business, and gave us an occasional friendly smile. Humans were obviously not all thatuncommon in the streets of Shkeentown. Most of the traffic was on foot, but small wooden carts were also common. The Shkeen draft animallooked like a big green dog that was about to be sick. They were strapped to the carts in pairs, and theywhined constantly as they pulled. So, naturally, men called them whiners. In addition to whining, they alsodefecated constantly. That, with odors from the food peddled in baskets and the Shkeen themselves,gave the city a definite pungency. There was noise too, a constant clamor. Kids whistling, Shkeen talking loudly with grunts andwhimpers and squeaks, whiners whining and their carts rattling over the rocks. Lya and I walked throughit all silently, hand in hand, watching and listening and smelling and… reading. I was wide open when I entered Shkeentown, letting everything wash over me as I walked,unfocused but receptive. I was the center of a small bubble of emotion—feelings rushed up at me asShkeen approached, faded as they walked away, circled around and around with the dancing children. Iswam in a sea of impressions. And it startled me. It startled me because it was all so familiar. I'd read aliens before. Sometimes it was difficult,sometimes it was easy, but it was never pleasant. The Hrangans have sour minds, rank with hate andbitterness, and I feel unclean when I come out. The Fyndii feel emotions so palely that I can scarcely readthem at all. The Damoosh are… different. I read them strongly, but I can't find names for the feelings Iread. But the Shkeen—it was like walking down a street on Baldur. No wait—more like one of the LostColonies, when a human settlement has fallen back into barbarism and forgotten its origins. Humanemotions rage there, primal and strong and real, but less sophisticated than on Old Earth or Baldur. TheShkeen were like that: primitive, maybe, but very understandable. I read joy and sorrow, envy, anger,whimsy, bitterness, yearning, pain. The same heady mixture that engulfs me everywhere, when I openmyself to it. Lya was reading, too. I felt her hand tense in mine. After a while, it softened again. I turned to her,and she saw the question in my eyes. "They're people," she said. "They're like us." I nodded. "Parallel evolution, maybe. Shkea might be an older Earth, with a few minor differences.But you're right. They're more human than any other race we've encountered in space." I considered that."Does that answer Dino's question? If they're like us, it follows that their religion would be moreappealing than a really alien one." "No, Robb," Lya said. "I don't think so. Just the reverse. If they're like us, it doesn't make sense thatthey'd go off so willingly to die. See?" She was right, of course. There was nothing suicidal in the emotions I'd read, nothing unstable,nothing really abnormal. Yet every one of the Shkeen went off to Final Union in the end. "We should focus on somebody," I said. "This blend of thought isn't getting us anywhere." I lookedaround to find a subject, but just then I heard the bells begin. They were off to the left somewhere, nearly lost in the city's gentle roar. I tugged Lya by the hand,and we ran down the street to find them, turning left at the first gap in the orderly row of domes. The bells were still ahead, and we kept running, cutting through what must have been somebody'syard, and climbing over a low bush fence that bristled with sweethorns. Beyond that was another yard, adung pit, more domes, and finally a street. It was there we found the bell-ringers. There were four of them, all Joined, wearing long gowns of bright red fabric that trailed in the dust,with great bronze bells in either hand. They rang the bells constantly, their long arms swinging back andforth, the sharp, clanging notes filling the street. All four were elderly, as Shkeen go—hairless andpinched up with a million tiny wrinkles. But they smiled very widely, and the younger Shkeen that passedsmiled at them. On their heads rode the Greeshka. I'd expected to find the sight hideous. I didn't. It was faintly disquieting, but only because I knewwhat it meant. The parasites were bright blobs of crimson goo, ranging in size from a pulsing wart on theback of one Shkeen skull to a great sheet of dripping, moving red that covered the head and shoulders ofthe smallest like a living cowl. The Greeshka lived by sharing the nutrients in the Shkeen bloodstream, Iknew. And also by slowly—oh so slowly—consuming its host. Lya and I stopped a few yards from them, and watched them ring. Her face was solemn, and I thinkmine was. All of the others were smiling, and the songs that the bells sang were songs of joy. I squeezedLyanna's hand tightly. "Read," I whispered. We read. Me: I read bells. Not the sound of bells, no, no, but the feel of bells, the emotion of bells, the brightclanging joy, the hooting-shouting-ringing loudness, the song of the Joined, the togetherness and thesharing of it all. I read what the Joined felt as they pealed their bells, their happiness and anticipation, theirecstasy in telling others of their clamorous contentment. And I read love, coming from them in great hotwaves, passionate possessive love of a man and woman together, not the weak watery affection of thehuman who "loves" his brothers. This was real and fervent and it burned almost as it washed over me andsurrounded me. They loved themselves, and they loved all Shkeen, and they loved the Greeshka, andthey loved each other, and they loved us. They loved us. They loved me, as hotly and wildly as Lyaloved me. And with love I read belonging, and sharing. They four were all apart, all distinct, but theythought as one almost, and they belonged to the Greeshka, and they were all together and linkedalthough each was still himself and none could read the others as I read them. And Lyanna? I reeled back from them, and shut myself off, and looked at Lya. She was white-faced,but smiling. "They're beautiful," she said, her voice very small and soft and wondering. Drenched in love, Istill remembered how much I loved her, and how I was part of her and her of me. "What—what did you read?" I asked, my voice fighting the continued clangor of the bells. She shook her head, as if to clear it. "They love us," she said. "You must know that, but oh, I felt it,they do love us. And it's so deep. Below that love there's more love, and below that more, and on andon forever. Their minds are so deep, so open. I don't think I've ever read a human that deeply.Everything is right at the surface, right there, their whole lives and all their dreams and feelings andmemories and oh—I just took it in, swept it up with a reading, a glance. With men, with humans, it's somuch work. I have to dig, I have to fight, and even then I don't get down very far. You know, Robb, youknow. Oh, Robb!" And she came to me and pressed tight against me, and I held her in my arms. Thetorrent of feeling that had washed over me must have been a tidal wave for her. Her Talent was broaderand deeper than mine, and now she was shaken. I read her as she clutched me, and I read love, greatlove, and wonder and happiness, but also fear, nervous fear swirling through it all. Around us, the ringing suddenly stopped. The bells, one by one, ceased to swing, and the four Joinedstood in silence for a brief second. One of the other Shkeen nearby came up to them with a huge,cloth-covered basket. The smallest of the Joined threw back the cloth, and the aroma of hot meatrollsrose in the street. Each of the Joined took several from the basket, and before long they were allcrunching away happily, and the owner of the rolls was grinning at them. Another Shkeen, a small nudegirl, ran up and offered them a flask of water, and they passed it around without comment. "What's going on?" I asked Lya. Then, even before she told me, I remembered. Something from theliterature that Valcarenghi had sent. The Joined did no work. Forty Earth-years they lived and toiled, butfrom First Joining to Final Union there was only joy and music, and they wandered the streets and rangtheir bells and talked and sang, and other Shkeen gave them food and drink. It was an honor to feed aJoined, and the Shkeen who had given up his meatrolls was radiating pride and pleasure. "Lya," Iwhispered, "can you read them now?" She nodded against my chest and pulled away and stared at the Joined, her eyes going hard and thensoftening again. She looked back at me. "It's different," she said, curious. "How?" She squinted in puzzlement. "I don't know. I mean, they still love us, and all. But now their thoughtsare, well, sort of more human. There are levels, you know, and digging isn't easy, and there are hiddenthings, things they hide even from themselves. It's not all open like it was. They're thinking about the foodnow and how good it tastes. It's all very vivid. I could taste the rolls myself. But it's not the same." I had an inspiration. "How many minds are there?" "Four," she said. "Linked somehow, I think. But not really." She stopped, confused, and shook herhead. "I mean, they sort of feel each other's emotions, like you do, I guess. But not thoughts, not thedetail. I can read them, but they don't read each other. Each one is distinct. They were closer before,when they were ringing, but they were always individuals." I was slightly disappointed. "Four minds then, not one?" "Umpf, yes. Four." "And the Greeshka?" My other bright idea. If the Greeshka had minds of their own… "Nothing," Lya said. "Like reading a plant, or a piece of clothing. Not even yes-I-live." That was disturbing. Even lower animals had some vague consciousness of life—the feeling Talentscalled yes-I-live—usually only a dim spark that it took a major Talent to see. But Lya was a majorTalent. "Let's talk to them," I said. She nodded, and we walked up to where the Joined were munching theirmeatrolls. "Hello," I said awkwardly, wondering how to address them. "Can you speak Terran?" Three of them looked at me without comprehension. But the fourth one, the little one whoseGreeshka was a rippling red cape, bobbed his head up and down. "Yesh," he said, in a piping-thin voice. I suddenly forgot what I was going to ask, but Lyanna came to my rescue. "Do you know of humanJoined?" she said. He grinned. "All Joined are one," he said. "Oh," I said. "Well, yes, but do you know any who look like us? Tall, you know, with hair and skinthat's pink or brown or something?" I came to another awkward halt, wondering just how much Terranthe old Shkeen knew, and eyeing his Greeshka a little apprehensively. His head bobbled from side to side. "Joined are all different, but all are one, all are shame. Shomelook ash you. Would you Join?" "No, thanks," I said. "Where can I find a human Joined?" He bobbled his head some more. "Joined shing and ring and walk the shacred city." Lya had been reading. "He doesn't know," she told me. "The Joined just wander and play their bells.There's no pattern to it, nobody keeps track. It's all random. Some travel in groups, some alone, andnew groups form every time two bunches meet." "We'll have to search," I said. "Eat," the Shkeen told us. He reached into the basket on the ground and his hands came out with twosteaming meatrolls. He pressed one into my hand, one in Lya's. I looked at it dubiously. "Thank you," I told him. I pulled at Lya with my free hand and we walked offtogether. The Joined grinned at us as we left, and started ringing once more before we were halfwaydown the street. The meatroll was still in my hand, its crust burning my fingers. "Should I eat this?" I asked Lya. She took a bite out of hers. "Why not? We had them last night in the restaurant, right? And I'm sureValcarenghi would've warned us if the native food was poisonous." That made sense, so I lifted the roll to my mouth and took a bite as I walked. It was hot, and alsohot, and it wasn't a bit like the meatrolls we'd sampled the previous night. Those had been golden, flakythings, seasoned gently with orangespice from Baldur. The Shkeen version was crunchy, and the meatinside dripped grease and burned my mouth. But it was good, and I was hungry, and the roll didn't lastlong. "Get anything else when you read the small guy?" I asked Lya around a mouthful of hot roll. She swallowed, and nodded. "Yes, I did. He was happy, even more than the rest. He's older. He'snear Final Union, and he's very thrilled about it." She spoke with her old easy manner; the after effects ofreading the Joined seemed to have faded. "Why?" I was musing out loud. "He's going to die. Why is he so happy about it?" Lya shrugged. "He wasn't thinking in any great analytical detail, I'm afraid." I licked my fingers to get rid of the last of the grease. We were at a crossroads, with Shkeen bustlingby us in all directions, and now we could hear more bells on the wind. "More Joined," I said. "Want tolook them up?" "What would we find out? That we don't already know? We need a human Joined." "Maybe one of this batch will be human." I got Lya's withering look, "Ha. What are the odds?" "All right," I conceded. It was now late afternoon. "Maybe we'd better head back. Get an earlierstart tomorrow. Besides, Dino is probably expecting us for dinner." Dinner, this time, was served in Valcarenghi's office, after a little additional furniture had beendragged in. His quarters, it turned out, were on the level below, but he preferred to entertain upstairswhere his guests could enjoy the spectacular Tower view. There were five of us, all told: me and Lya, Valcarenghi and Laurie, plus Gourlay. Laurie did thecooking, supervised by master chef Valcarenghi. We had beefsteaks, bred on Shkea from Old Earthstock, plus a fascinating blend of vegetables that included mushrooms from Old Earth, groundpips fromBaldur, and Shkeen sweethorns. Dino liked to experiment and the dish was one of his inventions. Lya and I gave a full report on the day's adventures, interrupted only by Valcarenghi's sharp,perceptive questioning. After dinner, we got rid of tables and dishes and sat around drinking Veltaar andtalking. This time Lya and I asked the questions, with Gourlay supplying the biggest chunk of theanswers. Valcarenghi listened from a cushion on the floor, one arm around Laurie, the other holding hiswine glass. We were not the first Talents to visit Shkea, he told us. Nor the first to claim the Shkeen weremanlike. "Suppose that means something," he said. "But I don't know. They're not men, you know. No, sir.They're much more social, for one thing. Great little city builders from way back, always in towns, alwayssurrounding themselves with others. And they're more communal than man, too. Cooperate in all sorts ofthings, and they're big on sharing. Trade, for instance—they see that as mutual sharing." Valcarenghi laughed. "You can say that again. I just spent the whole day trying to work out a tradecontract with a group of farmers who hadn't dealt with us before. It's not easy, believe me. They give usas much of their stuff as we ask for, if they don't need it themselves and no one else has asked for itearlier. But then they want to get whatever they ask for in the future. They expect it, in fact. So everytime we deal we've got a choice; hand them a blank check, or go through an incredible round of talksthat ends with them convinced that we're totally selfish." Lya wasn't satisfied. "What about sex?" she demanded. "From the stuff you were translating lastnight, I got the impression they're monogamous." "They're confused about sex relationships," Gourlay said. "It's very strange. Sex is sharing, you see,and it's good to share with everyone. But the sharing has to be real and meaningful. That createsproblems." Laurie sat up, attentive. "I've studied the point," she said quickly. "Shkeen morality insists they loveeverybody. But they can't do it, they're too human, too possessive. They wind up in monogamousrelationships, because a really deep sex-sharing with one person is better than a million shallow physicalthings, in their culture. The ideal Shkeen would sex-share with everyone, with each of the unions beingjust as deep, but they can't achieve that ideal." I frowned. "Wasn't somebody guilty last night over betraying his wife?" Laurie nodded eagerly. "Yes, but the guilt was because his other relationships caused his sharing withhis wife to diminish. That was the betrayal. If he'd been able to manage it without hurting his olderrelationship, the sex would have been meaningless. And, if all of the relationships have been reallove-sharing, it would have been a plus. His wife would have been proud of him. It's quite anachievement for a Shkeen to be in a multiple union that works." "And one of the greatest Shkeen crimes is to leave another alone," Gourlay said. "Emotionally alone.Without sharing." I mulled over that, while Gourlay went on. The Shkeen had little crime, he told us. Especially noviolent crime. No murders, no beatings, no prisons, no wars in their long, empty history. "They're a race without murderers," Valcarenghi said. "Which may explain something. On Old Earth,the same cultures that had the highest suicide rates often had the lowest murder rates, too. And theShkeen suicide rate is one hundred percent." "They kill animals," I said. "Not part of the Union," Gourlay replied. "The Union embraces all that thinks, and its creatures maynot be killed. They do not kill Shkeen, or humans, or Greeshka." Lya looked at me, then at Gourlay. "The Greeshka don't think," she said. "I tried to read them thismorning and got nothing but the minds of the Shkeen they rode. Not even a yes-I-live." "We've known that, but the point's always puzzled me," Valcarenghi said, climbing to his feet. Hewent to the bar for more wine, brought out a bottle, and filled our glasses. "A truly mindless parasite, butan intelligent race like the Shkeen are enslaved by it. Why?" The new wine was good and chilled, a cold trail down my throat. I drank it, and nodded,remembering the flood of euphoria that had swept over us earlier that day. "Drugs," I said, speculatively."The Greeshka must produce an organic pleasure drug. The Shkeen submit to it willingly and die happy.The joy is real, believe me. We felt it." Lyanna looked doubtful, though, and Gourlay shook his head adamantly. "No, Robb. Not so. We'veexperimented on the Greeshka, and…" He must have noticed my raised eyebrows. He stopped. "How did the Shkeen feel about that?" I asked. "Didn't tell them. They wouldn't have liked it, not at all. Greeshka's just an animal, but it's their God.Don't fool around with God, you know. We refrained for a long time, but when Gustaffson went over,old Stuart had to know. His orders. We didn't get anywhere, though. No extracts that might be a drug,no secretions, nothing. In fact, the Shkeen are the only native life that submits so easily. We caught awhiner, you see, and strapped it down, and let a Greeshka link up. Then, couple hours later, we yankedthe straps. Damn whiner was furious, screeching and yelping, attacking the thing on its head. Nearlyclawed its own skull to ribbons before it got it off." "Maybe only the Shkeen are susceptible?" I said. A feeble rescue attempt. "Not quite," said Valcarenghi, with a small, thin smile. "There's us." Lya was strangely silent in the tube, almost withdrawn. I assumed she was thinking about theconversation. But the door to our suite had barely slid shut behind us when she turned toward me andwrapped her arms around me. I reached up and stroked her soft brown hair, slightly startled by the hug. "Hey," I muttered, "what'swrong?" She gave me her vampire look, big-eyed and fragile. "Make love to me, Robb," she said with a softsudden urgency. "Please. Make love to me now." I smiled, but it was a puzzled smile, not my usual lecherous bedroom grin. Lya generally comes onimpish and wicked when she's horny, but now she was all troubled and vulnerable. I didn't quite get it. But it wasn't a time for questions, and I didn't ask any. I just pulled her to me wordlessly and kissedher hard, and we walked together to the bedroom. And we made love, really made love, more than poor Normals can do. We joined our bodies asone, and I felt Lya stiffen as her mind reached out to mine. And as we moved together I was openingmyself to her, drowning myself in the flood of love and need and fear that was pouring from her. Then, quickly as it had begun, it ended. Her pleasure washed over me in a raw red wave. And Ijoined her on the crest, and Lya clutched me tightly, her eyes shrunk up small as she drank it all in. Afterwards, we lay there in the darkness and let the stars of Shkea pour their radiance through thewindow. Lya huddled against me, her head on my chest, while I stroked her. "That was good," I said in a drowsy-dreamy voice, smiling in the star-filled darkness. "Yes," she replied. Her voice was soft and small, so small I barely heard it. "I love you, Robb," shewhispered. "Uh-huh," I said. "And I love you." She pulled loose of my arm and rolled over, propping her head on a hand to stare at me and smile."You do," she said. "I read it. I know it. And you know how much I love you, too, don't you?" I nodded, smiling. "Sure." "We're lucky, you know. The Normals have only words. Poor little Normals. How can they tell, withjust words? How can they know? They're always apart from each other, trying to reach each other andfailing. Even when they make love, even when they come, they're always apart. They must be verylonely." There was something… disturbing… in that. I looked at Lya, into her bright happy eyes, and thoughtabout it. "Maybe," I said, finally. "But it's not that bad for them. They don't know any other way. Andthey try, they love too. They bridge the gap sometimes." "Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence." Lya quoted, her voice sad and tender."We're luckier, aren't we? We have so much more." "We're luckier," I echoed. And I reached out to read her too. Her mind was a haze of satisfaction,with a gentle scent of wistful, lonely longing. But there was something else, way down, almost gone now,but still faintly detectable. I sat up slowly. "Hey," I said. "You're worried about something. And before, when we came in, youwere scared. What's the matter?" "I don't know, really," she said. She sounded puzzled and she was puzzled; I read it there. "I wasscared, but I don't know why. The Joined, I think. I kept thinking about how much they loved me. Theydidn't even know me, but they loved me so much, and they understood—it was almost like what wehave. It—I don't know. It bothered me. I mean, I didn't think I could ever be loved that way, except byyou. And they were so close, so together. I felt kind of lonely, just holding hands and talking. I wanted tobe close to you that way. After the way they were all sharing and everything, being alone just seemedempty. And frightening. You know?" "I know," I said, touching her lightly again, with hand and mind. "I understand. We do understandeach other. We're together almost as they are, as Normals can't ever be." Lya nodded, and smiled, and hugged me. We went to sleep in each other's arms. Dreams again. But again, at dawn, the memory stole away from me. It was all very annoying. Thedream had been pleasant, comfortable. I wanted it back, and I couldn't even remember what it was. Ourbedroom, washed by harsh daylight, seemed drab compared to the splendors of my lost vision. Lya woke after me, with another headache. This time she had the pills on hand, by the bedstand. Shegrimaced and took one. "It must be the Shkeen wine," I told her. "Something about it takes a dim view of your metabolism." She pulled on a fresh coverall and scowled at me. "Ha. We were drinking Veltaar last night,remember? My father gave me my first glass of Veltaar when I was nine. It never gave me headachesbefore." "A first!" I said, smiling. "It's not funny," she said. "It hurts." I quit kidding, and tried to read her. She was right. It did hurt. Her whole forehead throbbed withpain. I withdrew quickly before I caught it too. "All right," I said. "I'm sorry. The pills will take care of it, though. Meanwhile, we've got work to do." Lya nodded. She'd never let anything interfere with work yet. The second day was a day of manhunt. We got off to a much earlier start, had a quick breakfast withGourlay, then picked up our aircar outside the Tower. This time we didn't drop down when we hitShkeentown. We wanted a human Joined, which meant we had to cover a lot of ground. The city wasthe biggest I'd ever seen, in area at any rate, and the thousand-odd human cultists were lost amongmillions of Shkeen. And, of those humans, only about half were actually Joined yet. So we kept the aircar low, and buzzed up and down the dome-dotted hills like a floatingrollercoaster, causing quite a stir in the streets below us. The Shkeen had seen aircars before, of course,but it still had some novelty value, particularly to the kids, who tried to run after us whenever we flashedby. We also panicked a whiner, causing him to upset the cart full of fruit he was dragging. I felt guiltyabout that, so I kept the car higher afterwards.

Edited December 19, 2010 by laki21

[Dankan Ajdaho]

We spotted Joined all over the city, singing, eating, walking—and ringing those bells, those eternalbronze bells. But for the first three hours, all we found were Shkeen Joined. Lya and I took turns drivingand watching. After the excitement of the previous day, the search was tedious and tiring. Finally, however, we found something: a large group of Joined, ten of them, clustered around a breadcart behind one of the steeper hills. Two were taller than the rest. We landed on the other side of the hill and walked around to meet them, leaving our aircarsurrounded by a crowd of Shkeen children. The Joined were still eating when we arrived. Eight of themwere Shkeen of various sizes and hues, Greeshka pulsing atop their skulls. The other two were human. They wore the same long red gowns as the Shkeen, and they carried the same bells. One of themwas a big man, with loose skin that hung in flaps, as if he'd lost a lot of weight recently. His hair was whiteand curly, his face marked by a broad smile and laugh wrinkles around his eyes. The other was a thin,dark weasel of a man with a big hooked nose. Both of them had Greeshka sucking at their skulls. The parasite riding the weasel was barely apimple, but the older man had a lordly specimen that dripped down beyond his shoulders and into theback of the gown. Somehow, this time, it did look hideous. Lyanna and I walked up to them, trying hard to smile, not reading—at least at first. They smiled at usas we approached. Then they waved. "Hello," the weasel said cheerily when we got there. "I've never seen you. Are you new on Shkea?" That took me slightly by surprise. I'd been expecting some sort of garbled mystic greeting, or maybeno greeting at all. I was assuming that somehow the human converts would have abandoned theirhumanity to become mock-Shkeen. I was wrong. "More or less," I replied. And I read the weasel. He was genuinely pleased to see us, and justbubbled with contentment and good cheer. "We've been hired to talk to people like you." I'd decided tobe honest about it. The weasel stretched his grin farther than I thought it would go. "I am Joined, and happy," he said."I'll be glad to talk to you. My name is Lester Kamenz. What do you want to know, brother?" Lya, next to me, was going tense. I decided I'd let her read in depth while I asked questions. "Whendid you convert to the Cult?" "Cult?" Kamenz said. "The Union." He nodded, and I was struck by the grotesque similarity of his bobbing head and that of the elderlyShkeen we'd seen yesterday. "I have always been in the Union. You are in the Union. All that thinks is inthe Union." "Some of us weren't told," I said. "How about you? When did you realize you were in the Union?" "A year ago, Old Earth time. I was admitted to the ranks of the Joined only a few weeks ago. TheFirst Joining is a joyful time. I am joyful. Now I will walk the streets and ring my bells until the FinalUnion." "What did you do before?" "Before?" A short vague look. "I ran machines once. I ran computers, in the Tower. But my life wasempty, brother. I did not know I was in the Union, and I was alone. I had only machines, cold machines.Now I am Joined. Now I am"—again he searched—"not alone." I reached into him, and found the happiness still there, with love. But now there was an ache too, avague recollection of past pain, the stink of unwelcome memories. Did these fade? Maybe the gift theGreeshka gave its victims was oblivion, sweet mindless rest and end of struggle. Maybe. I decided to try something. "That thing on your head," I said, sharply. "It's a parasite. It's drinkingyour blood right now, feeding on it. As it grows, it will take more and more of the things you need to live.Finally it will start to eat your tissue. Understand? It will eat you. I don't know how painful it will be, buthowever it feels, at the end you'll be dead. Unless you come back to the Tower now, and have thesurgeons remove it. Or maybe you could remove it yourself. Why don't you try? Just reach up and pull itoff. Go ahead." I'd expected—what? Rage? Horror? Disgust? I got none of these. Kamenz just stuffed bread in hismouth and smiled at me, and all I read was his love and joy and a little pity. "The Greeshka does not kill," he said finally. "The Greeshka gives joy and happy Union. Only thosewho have no Greeshka die. They are… alone. Oh, forever alone." Something in his mind trembled withsudden fear, but it faded quickly. I glanced at Lya. She was stiff and hard-eyed, still reading. I looked back and began to phraseanother question. But suddenly the Joined began to ring. One of the Shkeen started it off, swinging hisbell up and down to produce a single sharp clang. Then his other hand swung, then the first again, thenthe second, then another Joined began to ring, then still another, and then they were all swinging andclanging and the noise of their bells was smashing against my ears as the joy and the love and the feel ofthe bells assaulted my mind once again. I lingered to savor it. The love there was breathtaking, awesome, almost frightening in its heat andintensity, and there was so much sharing to frolic in and wonder at, such a soothing-calming-exhilaratingtapestry of good feelings. Something happened to the Joined when they rang, something touched themand lifted them and gave them a glow, something strange and glorious that mere Normals could not hearin their harsh clanging music. I was no Normal, though. I could hear it. I withdrew reluctantly, slowly. Kamenz and the other human were both ringing vigorously now, withbroad smiles and glowing twinkling eyes that transfigured their faces. Lyanna was still tense, still reading.Her mouth was slightly open, and she trembled where she stood. I put an arm around her and waited, listening to the music, patient. Lya continued to read. Finally,after minutes, I shook her gently. She turned and studied me with hard, distant eyes. Then blinked. Andher eyes widened and she came back, shaking her head and frowning. Puzzled, I looked into her head. Strange and stranger. It was a swirling fog of emotion, a densemoving blend of more feelings than I'd care to put a name to. No sooner had I entered than I was lost,lost and uneasy. Somewhere in the fog there was a bottomless abyss lurking to engulf me. At least it feltthat way. "Lya," I said. "What's wrong?" She shook her head again, and looked at the Joined with a look that was equal parts fear andlonging. I repeated my question. "I—I don't know," she said. "Robb, let's not talk now. Let's go. I want time to think." "OK," I said. What was going on here? I took her hand and we walked slowly around the hill to theslope where we'd left the car. Shkeen kids were climbing all over it. I chased them, laughing. Lya juststood there, her eyes gone all faraway on me. I wanted to read her again, but somehow I felt it would bean invasion of privacy. Airborne, we streaked back toward the Tower, riding higher and faster this time. I drove, while Lyasat beside me and stared out into the distance. "Did you get anything useful?" I asked her, trying to get her mind back on the assignment. "Yes. No. Maybe." Her voice sounded distracted, as if only part of her was talking to me. "I readtheir lives, both of them. Kamenz was a computer programmer, as he said. But he wasn't very good. Anugly little man with an ugly little personality, no friends, no sex, no nothing. Lived by himself, avoided theShkeen, didn't like them at all. Didn't even like people, really. But Gustaffson got through to him,somehow. He ignored Kamenz' coldness, his bitter little cuts, his cruel jokes. He didn't retaliate, youknow? After a while, Kamenz came to like Gustaffson, to admire him. They were never really friends inany normal sense, but still Gustaffson was the nearest thing to a friend that Kamenz had." She stopped suddenly. "So he went over with Gustaffson?" I prompted, glancing at her quickly. Hereyes still wandered. "No, not at first. He was still afraid, still scared of the Shkeen and terrified of the Greeshka. But later,with Gustaffson gone, he began to realize how empty his life was. He worked all day with people whodespised him and machines that didn't care, then sat alone at night reading and watching holoshows. Notlife, really. He hardly touched the people around him. Finally he went to find Gustaffson, and wound upconverted. Now…" "Now… ?" She hesitated. "He's happy, Robb," she said. "He really is. For the first time in his life, he's happy.He'd never known love before. Now it fills him." "You got a lot," I said. "Yes." Still the distracted voice, the lost eyes. "He was open, sort of. There were levels, but diggingwasn't as hard as it usually is—as if his barriers were weakening, coming down almost…" "How about the other guy?" She stroked the instrument panel, staring only at her hand. "Him? That was Gustaffson…" And that, suddenly, seemed to wake her, to restore her to the Lya I knew and loved. She shook herhead and looked at me, and the aimless voice became an animated torrent of words. "Robb, listen, thatwas Gustaffson, he's been Joined over a year now, and he's going on to Final Union within a week. TheGreeshka has accepted him, and he wants it, you know? He really does, and—and—oh Robb, he'sdying!" "Within a week, according to what you just said." "No. I mean yes, but that's not what I mean. Final Union isn't death, to him. He believes it, all of it,the whole religion. The Greeshka is his god, and he's going to join it. But before, and now, he was dying.He's got the Slow Plague, Robb. A terminal case. It's been eating at him from inside for fifteen yearsnow. He got it back on Nightmare, in the swamps, when his family died. That's no world for people, buthe was there, the administrator over a research base, a short-term thing. They lived on Thor; it was onlya visit, but the ship crashed. Gustaffson got all wild and tried to reach them before the end, but hegrabbed a faulty pair of skinthins, and the spores got through. And they were all dead when he got there.He had an awful lot of pain, Robb. From the Slow Plague, but more from the loss. He really loved them,and it was never the same after. They gave him Shkea as a reward, kind of, to take his mind off thecrash, but he still thought of it all the time. I could see the picture, Robb. It was vivid. He couldn't forgetit. The kids were inside the ship, safe behind the walls, but the life system failed and choked them todeath. But his wife—oh, Robb—she took some skinthins and tried to go for help, and outside thosethings, those big wrigglers they have on Nightmare—?" I swallowed hard, feeling a little sick. "The eater-worms," I said, dully. I'd read about them, and seenholos. I could imagine the picture that Lya'd seen in Gustaffson's memory, and it wasn't at all pretty. Iwas glad I didn't have her Talent. "They were still—still—when Gustaffson got there. You know. He killed them all with a screechgun." I shook my head, "I didn't think things like that really went on." "No," Lya said. "Neither did Gustaffson. They'd been so—so happy before that, before the thing onNightmare. He loved her, and they were really close, and his career had been almost charmed. He didn'thave to go to Nightmare, you know. He took it because it was a challenge, because nobody else couldhandle it. That gnaws at him, too. And he remembers all the time. He—they—" Her voice faltered. "Theythought they were lucky," she said, before falling into silence. There was nothing to say to that. I just kept quiet and drove, thinking, feeling a blurred,watered-down version of what Gustaffson's pain must have been like. After a while, Lya began to speakagain. "It was all there, Robb," she said, her voice softer and slower and more thoughtful once again. "Buthe was at peace. He still remembered it all, and the way it had hurt, but it didn't bother him as it had.Only now he was sorry they weren't with him. He was sorry that they died without Final Union. Almostlike the Shkeen woman, remember? The one at the Gathering? With her brother?" "I remember," I said. "Like that. And his mind was open, too. More than Kamenz, much more. When he rang, the levels allvanished, and everything was right at the surface, all the love and pain and everything. His whole life,Robb. I shared his whole life with him, in an instant. And all his thoughts, too… he's seen the caves ofUnion… he went down once, before he converted. I…" More silence, settling over us and darkening the car. We were close to the end of Shkeentown. TheTower slashed the sky ahead of us, shining in the sun. And the lower domes and archways of theglittering human city were coming into view. "Robb," Lya said. "Land here. I have to think a while, you know? Go back without me. I want towalk among the Shkeen a little." I glanced at her, frowning. "Walk? It's a long way back to the Tower, Lya." "I'll be all right. Please. Just let me think a bit." I read her. The thought fog had returned, denser than ever, laced through with the colors of fear."Are you sure?" I said. "You're scared, Lyanna. Why? What's wrong? The eater-worms are a long wayoff." She just looked at me, troubled. "Please, Robb," she repeated. I didn't know what else to do, so I landed. And I, too, thought, as I guided the aircar home. Of what Lyanna had said, and read—of Kamenzand Gustaffson. I kept my mind on the problem we'd been assigned to crack. I tried to keep it off Lya,and whatever was bothering her. That would solve itself, I thought. Back at the Tower, I wasted no time. I went straight up to Valcarenghi's office. He was there, alone,dictating into a machine. He shut it off when I entered. "Hi, Robb," he began. "Where's Lya?" "Out walking. She wanted to think. I've been thinking, too. And I believe I've got your answer." He raised his eyebrows, waiting. I sat down. "We found Gustaffson this afternoon, and Lya read him. I think it's clear why he wentover. He was a broken man, inside, however much he smiled. The Greeshka gave him an end to his pain.And there was another convert with him, a Lester Kamenz. He'd been miserable, too, a pathetic lonelyman with nothing to live for. Why shouldn't he convert? Check out the other converts, and I bet you'llfind a pattern. The most lost and vulnerable, the failures, the isolated—those will be the ones that turnedto Union." Valcarenghi nodded. "OK, I'll buy that," he said. "But our psychs guessed that long ago, Robb. Onlyit's no answer, not really. Sure, the converts on the whole have been a messed-up crew, I won't disputethat. But why turn to the Cult of the Union? The psychs can't answer that. Take Gustaffson now. He wasa strong man, believe me. I never knew him personally, but I knew his career. He took some roughassignments, generally for the hell of it, and beat them. He could have had the cushy jobs, but he wasn'tinterested. I've heard about the incident on Nightmare. It's famous, in a warped sort of way. But PhilGustaffson wasn't the sort of man to be beaten, even by something like that. He snapped out of it veryquickly, from what Nelse tells me. He came to Shkea and really set the place in order, cleaning up themess that Rockwood had left. He pushed through the first real trade contract we ever got, and he madethe Shkeen understand what it meant, which isn't easy. "So here he is, this competent, talented man, who's made a career of beating tough jobs and handlingmen. He's gone through a personal nightmare, but it hasn't destroyed him. He's as tough as ever. Andsuddenly he turns to the Cult of the Union, signs up for a grotesque suicide. Why? For an end to his pain,you say? An interesting theory, but there are other ways to end pain. Gustaffson had years betweenNightmare and the Greeshka. He never ran away from pain then. He didn't turn to drink, or drugs, or anyof the usual outs. He didn't head back to Old Earth to have a psi-psych clean up his memories—andbelieve me, he could've gotten it paid for, if he'd wanted it. The colonial office would have done anythingfor him, after Nightmare. He went on, swallowed his pain, rebuilt. Until suddenly he converts. "His pain made him more vulnerable, yes, no doubt of it. But something else brought himover—something that Union offered, something he couldn't get from wine or memory wipe. The same'strue of Kamenz, and the others. They had other outs, other ways to vote no on life. They passed themup. But they chose Union. You see what I'm getting at?" I did, of course. My answer was no answer at all, and I realized it. But Valcarenghi was wrong too,in parts. "Yes," I said. "I guess we've still got some reading to do." I smiled wanly. "One thing, though.Gustaffson hadn't really beaten his pain, not ever. Lya was very clear on that. It was inside him all thetime, tormenting him. He just never let it come out." "That's victory, isn't it?" Valcarenghi said. "If you bury your hurts so deep that no one can tell youhave them?" "I don't know. I don't think so. But… anyway, there was more. Gustaffson has the Slow Plague.He's dying. He's been dying for years." Valcarenghi's expression flickered briefly. "That I didn't know, but it just bolsters my point. I've readthat some eighty percent of Slow Plague victims opt for euthanasia, if they happen to be on a planetwhere it's legal. Gustaffson was a planetary administrator. He could have made it legal. If he passed upsuicide for all those years, why choose it now?" I didn't have an answer for that. Lyanna hadn't given me one, if she had one. I didn't know where wecould find one, either unless… "The caves," I said suddenly. "The caves of Union. We've got to witness a Final Union. There mustbe something about it, something that accounts for the conversions. Give us a chance to find out what itis." Valcarenghi smiled. "All right," he said. "I can arrange it. I expected it would come to that. It's notpleasant, though, I'll warn you. I've gone down myself, so I know what I'm talking about." "That's OK," I told him. "If you think reading Gustaffson was any fun, you should have seen Lyawhen she was through. She's out now trying to walk it off." That, I'd decided, must have been what wasbothering her. "Final Union won't be any worse than those memories of Nightmare, I'm sure." "Fine, then. I'll set it up for tomorrow. I'm going with you, of course. I don't want to take any chanceson anything happening to you." I nodded. Valcarenghi rose. "Good enough," he said. "Meanwhile, let's think about more interestingthings. You have any plans for dinner?" We wound up eating at a mock-Shkeen restaurant run by humans, in the company of Gourlay andLaurie Blackburn. The talk was mostly social noises—sports, politics, art, old jokes, that sort of thing. Idon't think there was a mention of the Shkeen or the Greeshka all evening. Afterwards, when I got back to our suite, I found Lyanna waiting for me. She was in bed, readingone of the handsome volumes from our library, a book of Old Earth poetry. She looked up when Ientered. "Hi," I said. "How was your walk?" "Long." A smile creased her pale, small face, then faded. "But I had time to think. About thisafternoon, and yesterday, and about the Joined. And us." "Us?" "Robb, do you love me?" The question was delivered almost matter-of-factly, in a voice full ofquestion. As if she didn't know. As if she really didn't know. I sat down on the bed and took her hand and tried to smile. "Sure," I said. "You know that, Lya." "I did. I do. You love me, Robb, really you do. As much as a human can love. But…" She stopped.She shook her head and closed her book and sighed. "But we're still apart, Robb. We're still apart." "What are you talking about?" "This afternoon. I was so confused afterwards, and scared. I wasn't sure why, but I've thought aboutit. When I was reading, Robb—I was in there, with the Joined, sharing them and their love. I really was.And I didn't want to come out. I didn't want to leave them, Robb. When I did, I felt so isolated, so cutoff." "That's your fault," I said. "I tried to talk to you. You were too busy thinking." "Talking? What good is talking? It's communication, I guess, but is it really? I used to think so,before they trained my Talent. After that, reading seemed to be the real communication, the real way toreach somebody else, somebody like you. But now I don't know. The Joined—when they ring—they'reso together, Robb. All linked. Like us when we make love, almost. And they love each other, too. Andthey love us, so intensely. I felt—I don't know. But Gustaffson loves me as much as you do. No. Heloves me more." Her face was white as she said that, her eyes wide, lost, lonely. And me, I felt a sudden chill, like acold wind blowing through my soul. I didn't say anything. I only looked at her, and wet my lips. Andbled. She saw the hurt in my eyes, I guess. Or read it. Her hand pulled at mine, caressed it. "Oh, Robb.Please. I don't mean to hurt you. It's not you. It's all of us. What do we have, compared to them?" "I don't know what you're talking about, Lya." Half of me suddenly wanted to cry. The other halfwanted to shout. I stifled both halves, and kept my voice steady. But inside I wasn't steady, I wasn'tsteady at all. "Do you love me, Robb?" Again. Wondering. "Yes!" Fiercely. A challenge. "What does that mean?" she said. "You know what it means," I said. "Dammit, Lya, think! Remember all we've had, all we've sharedtogether. That's love, Lya. It is. We're the lucky ones, remember? You said that yourself. The Normalshave only a touch and a voice, then back to their darkness. They can barely find each other. They'realone. Always. Groping. Trying, over and over, to climb out of their isolation booths, and failing, overand over. But not us, we found the way, we know each other as much as any human beings ever can.There's nothing I wouldn't tell you, or share with you. I've said that before, and you know it's true, youcan read it in me. That's love, dammit. Isn't it?" "I don't know," she said, in a voice so sadly baffled. Soundlessly, without even a sob, she began tocry. And while the tears ran in lonely paths down her cheeks, she talked. "Maybe that's love. I alwaysthought it was. But now I don't know. If what we have is love, what was it I felt this afternoon, what wasit I touched and shared in? Oh, Robb, I love you too. You know that. I try to share with you. I want toshare what I read, what it was like. But I can't. We're cut off. I can't make you understand. I'm here andyou're there and we can touch and make love and talk, but we're still apart. You see? You see? I'malone. And this afternoon, I wasn't." "You're not alone, dammit," I said suddenly. "I'm here." I clutched her hand tightly. "Feel? Hear?You're not alone!" She shook her head, and the tears flowed on. "You don't understand, see? And there's no way I canmake you. You said we know each other as much as any human beings ever can. You're right. But howmuch can human beings know each other? Aren't all of them cut off, really? Each alone in a big, dark,empty universe? We only trick ourselves when we think that someone else is there. In the end, in the coldlonely end, it's only us, by ourselves, in the blackness. Are you there, Robb? How do I know? Will youdie with me, Robb? Will we be together then? Are we together now? You say we're luckier than theNormals. I've said it too. They have only a touch and voice, right? How many times have I quoted that?But what do we have? A touch and two voices, maybe. It's not enough anymore. I'm scared. SuddenlyI'm scared." She began to sob. Instinctively I reached out to her, wrapped her in my arms, stroked her. We layback together, and she wept against my chest. I read her, briefly, and I read her pain, her suddenloneliness, her hunger, all aswirl in a darkening mind-storm of fear. And, though I touched her andcaressed her and whispered—over and over—that it would be all right, that I was here, that she wasn'talone, I knew that it would not be enough. Suddenly there was a gulf between us, a great dark yawningtiling that grew and grew, and I didn't know how to bridge it. And Lya, my Lya, was crying, and sheneeded me. And I needed her, but I couldn't get to her. Then I realized that I was crying too. We held each other, in silent tears, for what must have been an hour. But finally the tears ran out. Lyaclutched her body to me so tightly I could hardly breathe, and I held her just as tightly. "Robb," she whispered. "You said—you said we really know each other. All those times you've saidit. And you say, sometimes, that I'm right for you, that I'm perfect." I nodded, wanting to believe. "Yes. You are." "No," she said, choking out the word, forcing it into the air, fighting herself to say it. "It's not so. Iread you, yes. I can hear the words rattling around in your head as you fit a sentence together beforesaying it. And I listen to you scold yourself when you've done something stupid. And I see memories,some memories, and live through them with you. But it's all on the surface, Robb, all on the top. Below it,there's more, more of you. Drifting half-thoughts I don't quite catch. Feelings I can't put a name to.Passions you suppress, and memories even you don't know you have. Sometimes I can get to that level.Sometimes. If I really fight, if I drain myself to exhaustion. But when I get there, I know—I know—thatthere's another level below that. And more and more, on and on, down and down. I can't reach them,Robb, though they're part of you. I don't know you. I can't know you. You don't even know yourself,see? And me, do you know me? No. Even less. You know what I tell you, and I tell you the truth, butmaybe not all. And you read my feelings, my surface feelings—the pain of a stubbed toe, a quick flash ofannoyance, the pleasure I get when you're in me. Does that mean you know me? What of my levels, andlevels? What about the things I don't even know myself? Do you know them? How, Robb, how?" She shook her head again, with that funny little gesture she had whenever she was confused. "Andyou say I'm perfect, and that you love me. I'm so right for you. But am I? Robb, I read your thoughts. Iknow when you want me to be sexy, so I'm sexy. I see what turns you on, so I do it. I know when youwant me to be serious, and when you want me to joke. I know what kind of jokes to tell, too. Never thecutting kind, you don't like that, to hurt or see people hurt. You laugh with people not at them, and Ilaugh with you, and love you for your tastes. I know when you want me to talk, and when to keep quiet.I know when you want me to be your proud tigress, your tawny telepath, and when you want a little girlto shelter in your arms. And I am those things, Robb, because you want me to be, because I love you,because I can feel joy in your mind at every right thing that I do. I never set out to do it that way, but ithappened. I didn't mind, I don't mind. Most of the time it wasn't even conscious. You do the same thing,too. I read it in you. You can't read as I do, so sometimes you guess wrong—you come on witty when Iwant silent understanding, or you act the strong man when I need a boy to mother. But you get it rightsometimes, too. And you try, you always try. "But is it really you? Is it really me? What if I wasn't perfect, you see, if I was just myself, with all myfaults and the things you don't like out in the open? Would you love me then? I don't know. ButGustaffson would, and Kamenz. I know that, Robb. I saw it. I know them. Their levels… vanished. IKNOW them, and if I went back I could share with them, more than with you. And they know me, thereal me, all of me, I think. And they love me. You see? You see?" Did I see? I don't know. I was confused. Would I love Lya if she was "herself"? But what was"herself"? How was it different from the Lya I knew? I thought I loved Lya and would always loveLya—but what if the real Lya wasn't like my Lya? What did I love? The strange abstract concept of ahuman being, or the flesh and voice and personality that I thought of as Lya? I didn't know. I didn't knowwho Lya was, or who I was, or what the hell it all meant. And I was scared. Maybe I couldn't feel whatshe had felt that afternoon. But I knew what she was feeling then. I was alone, and I needed someone. "Lya," I called. "Lya, let's try. We don't have to give up. We can reach each other. There's a way,our way. We've done it before. Come, Lya, come with me, come to me." As I spoke, I undressed her, and she responded and her hands joined mine. When we were nude, Ibegan to stroke her, slowly, and she me. Our minds reached out to each other. Reached and probed asnever before. I could feel her, inside my head, digging. Deeper and deeper. Down. And I opened myselfto her, I surrendered, all the petty little secrets I had kept even from her, or tried to, now I yielded up toher everything I could remember, my triumphs and shames, the good moments and the pain, the times I'dhurt someone, the times I'd been hurt, the long crying sessions by myself, the fears I wouldn't admit, theprejudices I fought, the vanities I battled when the time struck, the silly boyish sins. All. Everything. Iburied nothing. I hid nothing. I gave myself to her, to Lya, to my Lya. She had to know me. And so, too, she yielded. Her mind was a forest through which I roamed, hunting down wisps ofemotion, the fear and the need and the love at the top, the fainter things beneath, the half-formed whimsand passions still deeper into the woods. I don't have Lya's Talent, I read only feelings, never thoughts.But I read thoughts then, for the first and only time, thoughts she threw at me because I'd never seenthem before. I couldn't reach much, but some I got. And as her mind opened to mine, so did her body. I entered her, and we moved together, bodiesone, minds entwined, as close as human beings can join. I felt pleasure washing over me in great gloriouswaves, my pleasure, her pleasure, both together building on each other, and I rode the crest for aneternity as it approached a far distant shore. And finally as it smashed into that beach, we came together,and for a second—for a tiny, fleeting second—I could not tell which orgasm was mine, and which washers. But then it passed. We lay, bodies locked together, on the bed. In the starlight. But it was not a bed.It was the beach, the flat black beach, and there were no stars above. A thought touched me, a vagrantthought that was not mine. Lya's thought. We were on a plain, she was thinking, and I saw that she wasright. The waters that had carried us here were gone, receded. There was only a vast flat blacknessstretching away in all directions, with dim ominous shapes moving on either horizon. We are here as on adarkling plain, Lya thought. And suddenly I knew what those shapes were, and what poem she hadbeen reading. We slept. I woke, alone. The room was dark. Lya lay on the other side of the bed, curled up, still asleep. It was late, neardawn I thought. But I wasn't sure. I was restless. I got up and dressed in silence. I needed to walk somewhere, to think, to work things out. Where,though? There was a key in my pocket. I touched it when I pulled on my tunic, and remembered.Valcarenghi's office. It would be locked and deserted at this time of night. And the view might help methink. I left, found the tubes, and shot up, up, up to the apex of the Tower, the top of man's steel challengeto the Shkeen. The office was unlit, the furniture dark shapes in the shadows. There was only thestarlight. Shkea is closer to the galactic center than Old Earth, or Baldur. The stars are a fiery canopyacross the night sky. Some of them are very close, and they burn like red and blue-white fires in theawesome blackness above. In Valcarenghi's office, all the walls are glass. I went to one, and looked out.I wasn't thinking. Just feeling. And I felt cold and lost and little. Then there was a soft voice behind me saying hello. I barely heard it. I turned away from the window, but other stars leaped at me from the far walls. Laurie Blackburn satin one of the low chairs, concealed by the darkness. "Hello," I said. "I didn't mean to intrude. I thought no one would be here." She smiled. A radiant smile in a radiant face, but there was no humor in it. Her hair fell in sweepingauburn waves past her shoulders, and she was dressed in something long and gauzy. I could see hergentle curves through its folds, and she made no effort to hide herself. "I come up here a lot," she said. "At night, usually. When Dino's asleep. It's a good place to think." "Yes," I said, smiling. "My thoughts, too." "The stars are pretty, aren't they?" "Yes." "I think so. I—" Hesitation. Then she rose and came to me. "Do you love Lya?" she said. A hammer of a question. Timed terribly. But I handled it well, I think. My mind was still on my talkwith Lya. "Yes," I said. "Very much. Why?" She was standing close to me, looking at my face, and past me, out to the stars. "I don't know. Iwonder about love, sometimes. I love Dino, you know. He came here two months ago, so we haven'tknown each other long. But I love him already. I've never known anybody like him. He's kind, andconsiderate, and he does everything well. I've never seen him fail at anything he tried. Yet he doesn'tseem driven, like some men. He wins so easily. He believes in himself a lot, and that's attractive. He'sgiven me anything I could ask for, everything." I read her, caught her love and worry and guessed. "Except himself," I said. She looked at me, startled. Then she smiled. "I forgot. You're a Talent. Of course you know. You'reright. I don't know what I worry about, but I do worry. Dino is so perfect, you know. I've toldhim—well, everything. All about me and my life. And he listens and understands. He's always receptive,he's there when I need him. But—" "It's all one way," I said. It was a statement. I knew. She nodded. "It's not that he keeps secrets. He doesn't. He'll answer any question I ask. But theanswers mean nothing. I ask him what he fears, and he says nothing, and makes me believe it. He's veryrational, very calm. He never gets angry, he never has. I asked him. He doesn't hate people, he thinkshate is bad. He's never felt pain, either, or he says he hasn't. Emotional pain, I mean. Yet he understandsme when I talk about my life. Once he said his biggest fault was laziness. But he's not lazy at all, I knowthat. Is he really that perfect? He tells me he's always sure of himself, because he knows he's good, buthe smiles when he says it, so I can't even accuse him of being vain. He says he believes in God, but henever talks about it. If you try to talk seriously, he'll listen patiently, or joke with you, or lead theconversation away. He says he loves me, but—" I nodded. I knew what was coming. It came. She looked at me, eyes begging. "You're a Talent," she said. "You've read him, haven't you?You know him? Tell me. Please tell me." I was reading her. I could see how much she needed to know, how much she worried and feared,how much she loved. I couldn't lie to her. Yet it was hard to give her the answer I had to. "I've read him," I said. Slowly. Carefully. Measuring out my words like precious fluids. "And you,you too. I saw your love, on that first night, when we ate together." "And Dino?" My words caught in my throat. "He's—funny, Lya said once. I can read his surface emotions easilyenough. Below that, nothing. He's very self-contained, walled off. Almost as if his only emotions are theones he—allows himself to feel. I've felt his confidence, his pleasure. I've felt worry too, but never realfear. He's very affectionate toward you, very protective. He enjoys feeling protective." "Is that all?" So hopeful. It hurt. "I'm afraid it is. He's walled off, Laurie. He needs himself, only himself. If there's love in him, it'sbehind that wall, hidden. I can't read it. He thinks a lot of you, Laurie. But love—well, it's different. It'sstronger and more unreasoning and it comes in crashing floods. And Dino's not like that, at least not outwhere I can read." "Closed," she said. "He's closed to me. I opened myself to him, totally. But he didn't. I was alwaysafraid—even when he was with me, I felt sometimes that he wasn't there at all—" She sighed. I read her despair, her welling loneliness. I didn't know what to do. "Cry if you like," Itold her, inanely. "Sometimes it helps. I know. I've cried enough in my time." She didn't cry. She looked up, and laughed lightly. "No," she said. "I can't. Dino taught me never tocry. He said tears never solve anything." A sad philosophy. Tears don't solve anything, maybe, but they're part of being human. I wanted totell her so, but instead I just smiled at her. She smiled back, and cocked her head. "You cry," she said suddenly, in a voice strangely delighted."That's funny. That's more of an admission than I ever heard from Dino, in a way. Thank you, Robb.Thank you." And Laurie stood on her toes and looked up, expectant. And I could read what she expected. So Itook her and kissed her, and she pressed her body hard against mine. And all the while I thought of Lya,telling myself that she wouldn't mind, that she'd be proud of me, that she'd understand. Afterwards, I stayed up in the office alone to watch the dawn come up. I was drained, but somehowcontent. The light that crept over the horizon was chasing the shadows before it, and suddenly all thefears that had seemed so threatening in the night were silly, unreasoning. We'd bridged it, I thought—Lyaand I. Whatever it was, we'd handled it, and today we'd handle the Greeshka with the same ease,together. When I got back to our room, Lya was gone. "We found the aircar in the middle of Shkeentown," Valcarenghi was saying. He was cool, precise,reassuring. His voice told me, without words, that there was nothing to worry about. "I've got men outlooking for her. But Shkeentown's a big place. Do you have any idea where she might have gone?" "No," I said, dully. "Not really. Maybe to see some more Joined. She seemed—well, almostobsessed by them. I don't know." "Well, we've got a good police force. We'll find her, I'm certain of that. But it may take a while. Didyou two have a fight?" "Yes. No. Sort of, but it wasn't a real fight. It was strange." "I see," he said. But he didn't. "Laurie tells me you came up here last night, alone." "Yes. I needed to think." "All right," said Valcarenghi. "So let's say Lya woke up, decided she wanted to think too. You cameup here. She took a ride. Maybe she just wants a day off to wander around Shkeentown. She didsomething like that yesterday, didn't she?" "Yes." "So she's doing it again. No problem. She'll probably be back well before dinner." He smiled. "Why did she go without telling me, then? Or leaving a note, or something?" "I don't know. It's not important." Wasn't it, though? Wasn't it? I sat in the chair, head in my hands and a scowl on my face, and I wassweating. Suddenly I was very much afraid, of what I didn't know. I should never have left her alone, Iwas telling myself. While I was up here with Laurie, Lyanna woke alone in a darkened room,and—and—and what? And left. "Meanwhile, though," Valcarenghi said, "we've got work to do. The trip to the caves is all set." I looked up, disbelieving. "The caves? I can't go there, not now, not alone." He gave a sigh of exasperation, exaggerated for effect. "Oh, come now, Robb. It's not the end of theworld. Lya will be all right. She seemed to be a perfectly sensible girl, and I'm sure she can take care ofherself. Right?" I nodded. "Meanwhile, we'll cover the caves. I still want to get to the bottom of this." "It won't do any good," I protested. "Not without Lya. She's the major Talent. I—I just reademotions. I can't get down deep, as she can. I won't solve anything for you." He shrugged. "Maybe not. But the trip is on, and we've got nothing to lose. We can always make asecond run after Lya comes back. Besides, this should do you good, get your mind off this otherbusiness. There's nothing you can do for Lya now. I've got every available man out searching for her, andif they don't find her you certainly won't. So there's no sense dwelling on it. Just get back into action,keep busy." He turned, headed for the tube. "Come. There's an aircar waiting for us. Nelse will go too." Reluctantly, I stood. I was in no mood to consider the problems of the Shkeen, but Valcarenghi'sarguments made a certain amount of sense. Besides which, he'd hired Lyanna and me, and we still hadobligations to him. I could try anyway, I thought. On the ride out, Valcarenghi sat in the front with the driver, a hulking police sergeant with a facechiseled out of granite. He'd selected a police car this time so we could keep posted on the search forLya. Gourlay and I were in the back seat together. Gourlay had covered our laps with a big map, and hewas telling me about the caves of Final Union. "Theory is the caves are the original home of the Greeshka," he said. "Probably true, makes sense.Greeshka are a lot bigger there. You'll see. The caves are all through the hills, away from our part ofShkeentown, where the country gets wilder. A regular little honeycomb. Greeshka in every one, too. Orso I've heard. Been in a few myself, Greeshka in all of them. So I believe what they say about the rest.The city, the sacred city, well, it was probably built because of the caves. Shkeen come here from allover the continent, you know, for Final Union. Here, this is the cave region." He took out a pen, andmade a big circle in red near the center of the map. It was meaningless to me. The map was getting medown. I hadn't realized that the Shkeen city was so huge. How the hell could they find anyone who didn'twant to be found? Valcarenghi looked back from the front seat. "The cave we're going to is a big one, as these placesgo. I've been there before. There's no formality about Final Union, you understand. The Shkeen just picka cave, and walk in, and lie down on top of the Greeshka. They'll use whatever entrance is mostconvenient. Some of them are no bigger than sewer pipes, but if you went in far enough, theory saysyou'd run into a Greeshka, setting back in the dark and pulsing away. The biggest caves are lighted withtorches, like the Great Hall, but that's just a frill. It doesn't play any real part in the Union." "I take it we're going to one of them?" I said. Valcarenghi nodded. "Right. I figured you'd want to see what a mature Greeshka is like. It's notpretty, but it's educational. So we need lighting." Gourlay resumed his narrative then, but I tuned him out. I felt I knew quite enough about the Shkeenand the Greeshka, and I was still worried about Lyanna. After a while he wound down, and the rest ofthe trip was in silence. We covered more ground than we ever had before. Even the Tower—our shiningsteel landmark—had been swallowed by the hills behind us. The terrain got rougher, rockier, and more overgrown, and the hills rose higher and wilder. But thedomes went on and on and on, and there were Shkeen everywhere. Lya could be down there. I thought,lost among those teeming millions. Looking for what? Thinking what? Finally we landed, in a wooded valley between two massive, rock-studded hills. Even here therewere Shkeen, the red-brick domes rising from the undergrowth among the stubby trees. I had no troublespotting the cave. It was halfway up one of the slopes, a dark yawn in the rock face, with a dusty roadwinding up to it. We set down in the valley and climbed that road. Gourlay ate up the distance with long, gawkystrides, while Valcarenghi moved with an easy, untiring grace, and the policeman plodded on stolidly. Iwas the straggler. I dragged myself up, and I was half-winded by the time we got to the cave mouth. If I'd expected cave paintings, or an altar, or some kind of nature temple, I was sadly disappointed. Itwas an ordinary cave, with damp stone walls and low ceilings and cold, wet air. Cooler than most ofShkea, and less dusty, but that was about it. There was one long, winding passage through the rock,wide enough for the four of us to walk abreast yet low enough so Gourlay had to stoop. Torches wereset along the walls at regular intervals, but only every fourth one or so was lit. They burned with an oilysmoke that seemed to cling to the top of the cave and drift down into the depths before us. I wonderedwhat was sucking it in. After about ten minutes of walking, most of it down a barely perceptible incline, the passage led usout into a high, brightly lit room, with a vaulting stone roof that was stained sooty by torch smoke. In theroom, the Greeshka. Its color was a dull brownish red, like old blood, not the bright near-translucent crimson of the smallcreatures that clung to the skulls of the Joined. There were spots of black, too, like burns or soot stainson the vasty body. I could barely see the far side of the cave; the Greeshka was too huge, it toweredabove us so that there was only a thin crack between it and the roof. But it sloped down abruptly halfwayacross the chamber, like an immense jellied hill, and ended a good twenty feet from where we stood.Between us and the great bulk of the Greeshka was a forest of hanging, dangling red strands, a livingcobweb of Greeshka tissue that came almost to our faces. And it pulsed. As one organism. Even the strands kept time, widening and then contracting again,moving to a silent beat that was one with the great Greeshka behind them. My stomach churned, but my companions seemed unmoved. They'd seen this before. "Come,"Valcarenghi said, switching on a flashlight he'd brought to augment the torchlight. The light, twistingaround the pulsing web, gave the illusion of some weird haunted forest. Valcarenghi stepped into thatforest. Lightly. Swinging the light and brushing aside the Greeshka. Gourlay followed him, but I recoiled. Valcarenghi looked back and smiled. "Don't worry," he said."The Greeshka takes hours to attach itself, and it's easily removed. It won't grab you if you stumbleagainst it." I screwed up my courage, reached out, and touched one of the living strands. It was soft and wet,and there was a slimy feel to it. But that was all. It broke easily enough. I walked through it, reachingbefore me and bending and breaking the web to clear my path. The policeman walked silently behind me. Then we stood on the far side of the web, at the foot of the great Greeshka. Valcarenghi studied itfor a second, then pointed with his flashlight. "Look," he said. "Final Union." I looked. His beam had thrown a pool of light around one of the dark spots, a blemish on the reddishhulk. I looked closer. There was a head in the blemish. Centered in the dark spot, with just the faceshowing, and even that covered by a thin reddish film. But the features were unmistakable. An elderlyShkeen, wrinkled and big-eyed, his eyes closed now. But smiling. Smiling. I moved closer. A little lower and to the right, a few fingertips hung out of the mass. But that was all.Most of the body was already gone, sunken into the Greeshka, dissolved or dissolving. The old Shkeenwas dead, and the parasite was digesting his corpse. "Every one of the dark spots is a recent Union," Valcarenghi was saying, moving his light around likea pointer. "The spots fade in time, of course. The Greeshka is growing steadily. In another hundred yearsit will fill this chamber, and start up the passageway." Then there was a rustle of movement behind us. I looked back. Someone else was coming throughthe web. She reached us soon, and smiled. A Shkeen woman, old, naked, breasts hanging past her waist.Joined, of course. Her Greeshka covered most of her head and hung lower than her breasts. It was stillbright and translucent from its time in the sun. You could see through it, to where it was eating the skin offher back. "A candidate for Final Union," Gourlay said. "This is a popular cave," Valcarenghi added in a low, sardonic voice. The woman did not speak to us, nor we to her. Smiling, she walked past us. And lay down on theGreeshka. The little Greeshka, the one that rode her back, seemed almost to dissolve on contact, melting awayinto the great cave creature, so the Shkeen woman and the great Greeshka were joined as one. Afterthat, nothing. She just closed her eyes, and lay peacefully, seemingly asleep. "What's happening?" I asked. "Union," said Valcarenghi. "It'll be an hour before you'd notice anything, but the Greeshka is closingover her even now, swallowing her. A response to her body heat, I'm told. In a day she'll be buried in it.In two, like him—" The flash found the half-dissolved face above us. "Can you read her?" Gourlay suggested. "Maybe that'd tell us something." "All right," I said, repelled but curious. I opened myself. And the mindstorm hit. But it's wrong to call it a mindstorm. It was immense and awesome and intense, searing and blindingand choking. But it was peaceful too, and gentle with a gentleness that was more violent than human hate.It shrieked soft shrieks and siren calls and pulled at me seductively, and it washed over me in crimsonwaves of passion, and drew me to it. It filled me and emptied me all at once. And I heard the bellssomewhere, clanging a harsh bronze song, a song of love and surrender and togetherness, of joining andunion and never being alone. Storm, mindstorm, yes, it was that. But it was to an ordinary mindstorm as a supernova is to ahurricane, and its violence was the violence of love. It loved me, that mindstorm, and it wanted me, andits bells called to me, and sang its love, and I reached to it and touched, wanting to be with it, wanting tolink, wanting never to be alone again. And suddenly I was on the crest of a great wave once again, awave of fire that washed across the stars forever, and this time I knew the wave would never end, thistime I would not be alone afterwards upon my darkling plain. But with that phrase I thought of Lya. And suddenly I was struggling, fighting it, battling back against the sea of sucking love. I ran, ran,ran, RAN … and closed my minddoor and hammered shut the latch and let the storm flail and howlagainst it while I held it with all my strength, resisting. Yet the door began to buckle and crack. I screamed. The door smashed open, and the storm whipped in and clutched at me, whirled me outand around and around. I sailed up to the cold stars but they were cold no longer, and I grew bigger andbigger until I was the stars and they were me, and I was Union, and for a single solitary glittering instant Iwas the universe. Then nothing. I woke up back in my room, with a headache that was trying to tear my skull apart. Gourlay wassitting oh a chair reading one of our books. He looked up when I groaned. Lya's headache pills were still on the bedstand. I took one hastily, then struggled to sit up in bed. "You all right?" Gourlay asked. "Headache," I said, rubbing my forehead. It throbbed, as if it was about to burst. Worse than thetime I'd peered into Lya's pain. "What happened?" He stood up. "You scared the hell out of us. After you began to read, all of a sudden you startedtrembling. Then you walked right into the goddamn Greeshka. And you screamed. Dino and the sergeanthad to drag you out. You were stepping right in the thing, and it was up to your knees. Twitching, too.Weird. Dino hit you, knocked you out." He shook his head, started for the door. "Where are you going?" I said. "To sleep," he said. "You've been out for eight hours or so. Dino asked me to watch you till youcame to. OK, you came to. Now get some rest, and I will too. We'll talk about it tomorrow." "I want to talk about it now." "It's late," he said, as he closed the bedroom door. I listened to his footsteps on the way out. And I'msure I heard the outer door lock. Somebody was clearly afraid of Talents who steal away into the night. Iwasn't going anywhere. I got up and went out for a drink. There was Veltaar chilling. I put away a couple of glasses quick,and ate a light snack. The headache began to fade. Then I went back to the bedroom, turned off the lightand cleared the glass, so the stars would all shine through. Then back to sleep. But I didn't sleep, not right away. Too much had happened. I had to think about it. The headachefirst, the incredible headache that ripped at my skull. Like Lya's. But Lya hadn't been through what I had.Or had she? Lya was a major Talent, much more sensitive than I was, with a greater range. Could thatmindstorm have reached this far, over miles and miles? Late at night, when humans and Shkeen weresleeping and their thoughts dim? Maybe. And maybe my half-remembered dreams were pale reflectionsof whatever she had felt the same nights. But my dreams had been pleasant. It was waking that botheredme, waking and not remembering. But again, had I had this headache when I slept? Or when I woke? What the hell had happened? What was that thing, that reached me there in the cave, and pulled meto it? The Greeshka? It had to be. I hadn't even time to focus on the Shkeen woman, it had to be theGreeshka. But Lyanna had said that Greeshka had no minds, not even a yes-I-live… It all swirled around me, questions on questions on questions, and I had no answers. I began to thinkof Lya then, to wonder where she was and why she'd left me. Was this what she had been goingthrough? Why hadn't I understood? I missed her then. I needed her beside me, and she wasn't there. Iwas alone, and very aware of it. I slept. Long darkness then, but finally a dream, and finally I remembered. I was back on the plain again, theinfinite darkling plain with its starless sky and black shapes in the distance, the plain Lya had spoken of sooften. It was from one of her favorite poems. I was alone, forever alone, and I knew it. That was thenature of things. I was the only reality in the universe, and I was cold and hungry and frightened, and theshapes were moving toward me, inhuman and inexorable. And there was no one to call to, no one to turnto, no one to hear my cries. There never had been anyone. There never would be anyone. Then Lya came to me. She floated down from the starless sky, pale and thin and fragile, and stood beside me on the plain.She brushed her hair back with her hand, and looked at me with glowing wide eyes, and smiled. And Iknew it was no dream. She was with me, somehow. We talked. Hi, Robb. Lya? Hi, Lya. Where are you? You left me. I'm sorry. I had to. You understand, Robb. You have to. I didn't want to be here anymore, ever,in this place, this awful place. I would have been, Robb. Men are always here, but for briefmoments. A touch and a voice? Yes, Robb. Then darkness again, and a silence. And the darkling plain. You're mixing two poems, Lya. But it's OK. You know them better than I do. But aren't you leavingout something? The earlier part. "Ah love, let us be true…" Oh, Robb. Where are you? I'm—everywhere. But mostly in a cave. I was ready, Robb. I was already more open than therest. I could skip the Gathering, and the Joining. My Talent made me used to sharing. It took me. Final Union? Yes. Oh, Lya. Robb. Please. Join us, join me. It's happiness, you know? Forever and forever, and belongingand sharing and being together. I'm in love, Robb, I'm in love with a billion billion people, and Iknow all of them better than I ever knew you, and they know me, all of me, and they love me. Andit will last forever. Me. Us. The Union. I'm still me, but I'm them too, you see? And they're me. TheJoined, the reading, opened me, and the Union called to me every night, because it loved me, yousee? Oh, Robb, join us, join us. I love you. The Union. The Greeshka, you mean. I love you, Lya. Please come back. It can't have absorbed youalready. Tell me where you are. I'll come to you. Yes, come to me. Come anywhere, Robb. The Greeshka is all one, the caves all connect underthe hills, the little Greeshka are all part of the Union. Come to me and join me. Love me as yousaid you did. Join me. You're so far away, I can hardly reach you, even with the Union. Come andbe one with us. No. I will not be eaten. Please, Lya, tell me where you are. Poor Robb. Don't worry, love. The body isn't important. The Greeshka needs it fornourishment, and we need the Greeshka. But, oh Robb, the Union isn't just the Greeshka, yousee? The Greeshka isn't important, it doesn't even have a mind, it's just the link, the medium, theUnion is the Shkeen. A million billion billion Shkeen, all the Shkeen that have lived and Joined infourteen thousand years, all together and loving and belonging, immortal. It's beautiful, Robb, it'smore than we had, much more, and we were the lucky ones, remember? We were! But this isbetter. Lya. My Lya. I loved you. This isn't for you, this isn't for humans. Come back to me. This isn't for humans? Oh, it IS! It's what humans have always been looking for, searching for,crying for on lonely nights. It's love, Robb, real love, and human love is only a pale imitation. Yousee? No. Come, Robb. Join. Or you'll be alone forever, alone on the plain, with only a voice and a touchto keep you going. And in the end when your body dies, you won't even have that. Just an eternityof empty blackness. The plain, Robb, forever and ever. And I won't be able to reach you, not ever.But it doesn't have to be… No. Oh, Robb. I'm fading. Please come. No. Lya, don't go. I love you, Lya. Don't leave me. I love you, Robb. I did. I really did. . . And then she was gone. I was alone on the plain again. A wind was blowing from somewhere, and itwhipped her fading words away from me, out into the cold vastness of infinity. In the cheerless morning, the outer door was unlocked. I ascended the tower and found Valcarenghialone in his office. "Do you believe in God?" I asked him. He looked up, smiled. "Sure." Said lightly. I was reading him. It was a subject he'd never thoughtabout. "I don't," I said. "Neither did Lya. Most Talents are atheists, you know. There was an experimenttried back on Old Earth fifty years ago. It was organized by a major Talent named Linnel, who was alsodevoutly religious. He thought that by using drugs, and linking together the minds of the world's mostpotent Talents, he could reach something he called the Universal Yes-I-Live. Also known as God. Theexperiment was a dismal failure, but something happened. Linnel went mad, and the others came awaywith only a vision of a vast, dark, uncaring nothingness, a void without reason or form or meaning. OtherTalents have felt the same way, and Normals too. Centuries ago there was a poet named Arnold, whowrote of a darkling plain. The poem's in one of the old languages, but it's worth reading. It shows—fear,I think. Something basic in man, some dread of being alone in the cosmos. Maybe it's just fear of death,maybe it's more. I don't know. But it's primal. All men are forever alone, but they don't want to be.They're always searching, trying to make contact, trying to reach others across the void. Some peoplenever succeed, some break through occasionally. Lya and I were lucky. But it's never permanent. In theend you're alone again, back on the darkling plain. You see, Dino? Do you see?" He smiled an amused little smile. Not derisive—that wasn't his style—just surprised and disbelieving."No," he said. "Look again, then. Always people are reaching for something, for someone, searching. Talk, Talent,love, sex, it's all part of the same thing, the same search. And gods, too. Man invents gods because he'safraid of being alone, scared of an empty universe, scared of the darkling plain. That's why your men areconverting, Dino, that's why people are going over. They've found God, or as much of a God as they'reever likely to find. The Union is a mass-mind, an immortal mass-mind, many in one, all love. The Shkeendon't die, dammit. No wonder they don't have the concept of an afterlife. They know there's a God.Maybe it didn't create the universe, but it's love, pure love, and they say that God is love, don't they? Ormaybe what we call love is a tiny piece of God. I don't care, whatever it is, the Union is it. The end of thesearch for the Shkeen, and for Man too. We're alike after all, we're so alike it hurts." Valcarenghi gave his exaggerated sigh. "Robb, you're overwrought. You sound like one of theJoined." "Maybe that's just what I should be. Lya is. She's part of the Union now." He blinked. "How do you know that?" "She came to me last night in a dream." "Oh. A dream." "It was true, dammit. It's all true." Valcarenghi stood, and smiled. "I believe you," he said. "That is, I believe that the Greeshka uses apsi-lure, a love lure if you will, to draw in its prey, something so powerful that it convinces men—evenyou—that it's God. Dangerous, of course. I'll have to think about this before taking action. We couldguard the caves to keep humans out, but there are too many caves. And sealing off the Greeshkawouldn't help our relations with the Shkeen. But now it's my problem. You've done your job." I waited until he was through. "You're wrong, Dino. This is real, no trick, no illusion. I felt it, and Lyatoo. The Greeshka hasn't even a yes-I-live, let alone a psi-lure strong enough to bring in Shkeen andmen." "You expect me to believe that God is an animal who lives in the caves of Shkea?" "Yes." "Robb, that's absurd, and you know it. You think the Shkeen have found the answer to the mysteriesof creation. But look at them. The oldest civilized race in known space, but they've been stuck in theBronze Age for fourteen thousand years. We came to them. Where are their spaceships? Where aretheir towers?" "Where are our bells?" I said. "And our joy? They're happy, Dino. Are we? Maybe they've foundwhat we're still looking for. Why the hell is man so driven, anyway? Why is he out to conquer the galaxy,the universe, whatever? Looking for God, maybe…? Maybe. He can't find him anywhere, though, so onhe goes, on and on, always looking. But always back to the same darkling plain in the end." "Compare the accomplishments. I'll take humanity's record." "Is it worth it?" "I think so." He went to the window, and looked out. "We've got the only Tower on their world," hesaid, smiling, as he looked down through the clouds. "They've got the only God in our universe," I told him. But he only smiled. "All right, Robb," he said, when he finally turned from the window. "I'll keep all this in mind. And we'llfind Lyanna for you." My voice softened. "Lya is lost," I said. "I know that now. I will be too, if I wait. I'm leaving tonight.I'll book passage on the first ship out to Baldur." He nodded. "If you like. I'll have your money ready." He grinned. "And we'll send Lya after you,when we find her. I imagine she'll be a little miffed, but that's your worry." I didn't answer. Instead I shrugged, and headed for the tube. I was almost there when he stoppedme. "Wait," he said. "How about dinner tonight? You've done a good job for us. We're having a farewellparty anyway, Laurie and me. She's leaving too." "I'm sorry," I said. His turn to shrug. "What for? Laurie's a beautiful person, and I'll miss her. But it's no tragedy. Thereare other beautiful people. I think she was getting restless with Shkea, anyway." I'd almost forgotten my Talent, in my heat and the pain of my loss. I remembered it now. I read him.There was no sorrow, no pain, just a vague disappointment. And below that, his wall. Always the wall,keeping him apart, this man who was a first-name friend to everyone and an intimate to none. And on it,it was almost of if there were a sign that read, THIS FAR YOU GO, AND NO FARTHER. "Come up," he said. "It should be fun." I nodded. I asked myself, when my ship lifted off, why I was leaving. Maybe to return home. We have a house on Baldur, away from the cities, on one of the undevelopedcontinents with only wilderness for a neighbor. It stands on a cliff, above a high waterfall that tumblesendlessly down into a shaded green pool. Lya and I swam there often, in the sunlit days betweenassignments. And afterwards we'd lie down nude in the shade of the orangespice trees, and make love ona carpet of silver moss. Maybe I'm returning to that. But it won't be the same without Lya, lost Lya… Lya whom I could still have. Whom I could have now. It would be easy, so easy. A slow stroll into adarkened cave, a short sleep. Then Lya with me for eternity, in me, sharing me, being me, and I her.Loving and knowing more of each other than men can ever do. Union and joy, and no darkness again,ever. God. If I believed that, what I told Valcarenghi, then why did I tell Lya no? Maybe because I'm not sure. Maybe I still hope, for something still greater and more loving than theUnion, for the God they told me of so long ago. Maybe I'm taking a risk, because part of me stillbelieves. But if I'm wrong… then the darkness, and the plain… But maybe it's something else, something I saw in Valcarenghi, something that made me doubt what Ihad said. For man is more than Shkeen, somehow; there are men like Dino and Gourlay as well as Lyaand Gustaffson, men who fear love and Union as much as they crave it. A dichotomy, then. Man has twoprimal urges, and the Shkeen only one? If so, perhaps there is a human answer, to reach and join and notbe alone, and yet to still be men. I do not envy Valcarenghi. He cries behind his wall, I think, and no one knows, not even he. And noone will ever know, and in the end he'll always be alone in smiling pain. No, I do not envy Dino. Yet there is something of him in me, Lya, as well as much of you. And that is why I ran, though Iloved you. Laurie Blackburn was on the ship with me. I ate with her after liftoff, and we spent the evening talkingover wine. Not a happy conversation, maybe, but a human one. Both of us needed someone, and wereached out. Afterwards, I took her back to my cabin, and made love to her as fiercely as I could. Then, thedarkness softened, we held each other and talked away the night.

[fonTelefon]

Cito neko Daglas adamsa u originalu i nesto razumeo?

[Hamlet Strašni]

Ja. Pocetak sam znao i sa srpskog, a negde sredinom trece knjige sam se smorio pa se nisam previse ni udubljivao...

[dare...]

Pročitao i plavu knjigu dotičnog Martina i u njoj je svaka priča dobra. Ovu treću žutu još nisam pazario.Onda ponovo u 1 dahu pročitah Bižolkine "Krhotine Časti" i "Barajar", da bi se bacio na ovog "Plaćenika" u novom izdanju Lagune. Krhotine i Barajar su izvanredne knjige, medjutim Majls Vorkosigan serijal je već na nivou Roto Romana iz trafika ispred kuće (ono, Lun, Hejzi, Dok Holidej...). Pazi OK. je. Identifikacija sa glavnim likom funkcioniše i vrlo je brzo i vrlo je zanimljivo i čita se u dahu... Ali mi malčice deluje jeftinije od Krhotina i Barajara. Ima jedno čudo tih nastavaka u izdanju hrvatskog Algoritma (Cruella mi svojevremeno ustupila 4 kom.), te će se isti tek pojavljivati u izdanju LaguneElem, bio malo u Delfima u pazaru..."Mehanička Devojka" je izdata u ograničenom tiražu, a pokupila je sve moguće i nemoguće nagrade. (ono Hugo, Nebula i još koješta...). Započeo pa ću izvestiti dalje..."Trčanje za demonom" uzeh zbog cene od 214 dindži u ćošku starih Poraisovih izdanja po popularnim izdanjima...Poslednju knjigu Čarobnjačke Triologije" "Visoki Gospodar" nisam pročitao, te i nju uzeh... Usput me strašno nervira Alnari koji redovno nema u isto vreme sve nastavke knjiga, već sam prinudjen da ih pecam... Dikov "Ubik" je u novom izdanju Algoritma i reših da ga ponovo pročitam... Ne sećam se o čemu se radilo, ali sećam se da je bilo jako dobro...

Edited January 21, 2011 by dare...

[dare...]

Pročitao i "Prolaz" Džastina Kronina u izdanju Lagune. Kliknite za komentar Nightfliera. Šta znam lepo se čita, ideja je OK, zanatski dobro napisano, ali nisam nešto preterano oduševljen... Mislim preporučujem, drugačije je... A ukusi su različiti...Savladao i "Čoveka koji je ubio Teslu". Slatko sam se smejao našoj alternativnoj istoriji. Jeste malo čudno i haotično, ali mi se svidelo... Istakao bih da je za razliku od onih Tešićevih "Konsignasa" koji mi ni našta ne liče, Skrobonja je vrlo dobro zanatski uradio i postavio priču. Stvarno mislim da je roman OK. i lepo sam se zabavio.Uzgred, ko je zainteresovan za stara izdanja evo mu linka "Čudne Knjižare" Bobana Kneževića

Edited January 21, 2011 by dare...

[porucnik vasic]

Мени су ово Скробоњино баш нахвалили, па хтедох да питам вреди ли на то да трошим кинту, плус поштарину да ми се допреми из Канаде.

[anomander rejk]

Ovih dana bi trebalo da se pojavi ,, Poslednje Carstvo '' prvi deo trilogije Brendona Sandersona, u izdanjuLagune.Sanderson je završio Džordanov WOT, slovi za jednog od najačih savremenih pisaca epske fantastike,tako da nadam se vrlo kvalitetnom delu...buraz mi ga je čitao na engleskom, i kaže da je sjajan,drago mi je da se konačno pojavljuje i kod nas.

[dare...]

Ovih dana bi trebalo da se pojavi ,, Poslednje Carstvo '' prvi deo trilogije Brendona Sandersona, u izdanjuLagune.Sanderson je završio Džordanov WOT, slovi za jednog od najačih savremenih pisaca epske fantastike,tako da nadam se vrlo kvalitetnom delu...buraz mi ga je čitao na engleskom, i kaže da je sjajan,drago mi je da se konačno pojavljuje i kod nas.

Pročitao...Čuj, pročitao... Progutao 700 strana u 2-3 dana... Ludo, brzo i osvežavajuće... Dobro do bola... Preporučujem i čuvam u vitrini za unuke. Prva knjiga je posebna celina i ima sasvim zadovoljavajući završetak, opet ostavljajući mogućnost za nastavak i razradu tog novostvorenog sveta...