18_the_end_of_the_circle-第30部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！



〃It　occurs　to　me　that　maybe　we　all　want　to　be　real　careful　about　what　we　think　and　say　and　do　around　here；〃　Marie　pondered　aloud。


Perhaps　I　saw　this　day　ing　all　along；　Lang　mused；　keying　the　armored　vault　module　with　his　spoken　password；　DNA　code；　and　brain　scan。　Why　else　would　I　have　made　this　shrine　to　it？

The　vault　module　had　been　aboard　the　SDF…3　all　along；　transferred　there　from　storage　on　Earth。　The　Robotech　equipment　it　held　had　been　removed　from　the　just…crashed　SDF…1　within　days　of　Lang's　first　encounter　with　it　in　'99。　The　equipment　sat　before　him　now；　silent　and　patient；　looking　little　different　from　the　way　it　had　in　the　instant　when　Lang　had　first　seen　Zor's　face　on　its　screen。

He　ran　his　hand　along　it；　the　console　that　had　been　the　nucleus　of　the　SDF…l's　living　Robotechnology。　It　had　been　replaced　by　human　interface　equipment；　which　had　then　been　set　up　in　a　conventional　bridge　arrangement　where　Henry　Gloval　set　his　strong　hand　on　the　tiller　of　galactic　history。

But　the　original　systemry　was　here；　preserved；　inert。　Touching　it；　Lang　felt　his　skin　tingle；　recalling　the　unspeakable　shock　when　pure　Protoculture；　amassed　and　controlled　by　Zor's　least　prehensible　devices；　had　flooded　through　him。　It　was　an　event　that　belonged　if　not　on　the　ceiling　of　the　Sistine　Chapel；　then　perhaps　on　a　matrix　containment　casing；　Lang　thought　ruefully。

He　had　kept　to　himself　as　much　as　possible　the　profound　changes　the　Protoculture　had　worked　in　him　and　his　new　affinity　for　it。　He　was　absolutely　indispensable　to　the　new　Robotech　Age；　and　so　his　strangeness　was　overlooked。　People　hailed　him　as　genius；　as　savior；　yet　he'd　been　confronted　every　day；　from　the　first　crash　exploration　in　'99　to　this　moment；　with　his　own　shortings　and　fear。

By　long　habit　he　glanced　back　to　make　sure　the　vault　module　was　totally　secure。　He　reached　out　and　tapped　a　code　into　a　touchpad。

Zor's　master　console　came　to　life。

Not　to　full　power；　of　course；　there　was　little　Protoculture　now；　and　it　all　had　the　unavoidable　Second　Generation　impurities　and　unsuitability。　But　the　infusion　let　the　alien　indicators　and　displays　show　that　they　still　waited。　He　could　flood　the　devices　with　Second　Gen　power　whenever　he　chose。

Up　until　a　short　while　before；　he　could　have　taken　a　second　boost…could　have　done　that　at　almost　any　moment　over　the　decades。　His　powers　would　quite　probably　be　increased　geometrically；　the　math　and　research　data　were　promising　on　that　point；　just　as　they　led　to　the　inescapable　fact　that　he　would　die　very　shortly　thereafter。

Zand　had　been　willing　to　risk　it　after　that　first　voluntary　exposure　to　the　Protoculture　he　had　taken　against　Lang's　orders　and　behind　his　back。　Though　neither　of　them　mentioned　it　later；　Lang　had　been　quite　prepared　to　shoot　his　colleague　down　in　cold　blood　rather　than　see　him　take　that　next　step　toward　the　godhead。

Most　of　that　stemmed　from　fear　of　what　the　second　boost　might　make　of　Zand；　who　was　none　too　stable　as　it　was；　of　course。　But　wasn't　there　more　to　it？　Jealousy　and　a　refusal　to　let　Zand　have　something　that　he；　Lang；　feared　to　claim　as　his？

No　matter。　Zand　had　had　his　transcendence；　all　right。　And　to　hear　Dana　Sterling　tell　it；　it　was　all　in　line　with　the　fear　of　the　Shapings　that　was　almost　a　religious　fervor　within　Lang　sow。

Here　in　newspace；　though；　the　Shapings　had　gone　awry　or　petered　out　or　。。。　Lang　was　not　sure　what。

His　polestar　faith；　the　Shapings；　led　him　no　more。　The　politicians　and　the　military　would　go　on　pretending　there　was　something　they　could　do；　but　he　knew　differently。　There　was　only　one　possible　way　to　save　the　lives　onboard　the　SDF…3　and；　more　important；　the　universe　threatened　by　newspace。

That　route　lay　in　a　direct　encounter　with　the　Shapings。　And　the　only　way　anyone　would　do　that　would　be　to　raise　oneself　beyond　the　limits　of　mortal　power；　at　least　for　a　single　moment。

Only　no　one　was　going　to　do　that　with　Zor's　equipment；　not　with　Second　Gen　Protoculture　at　any　rate。

At　least　。。。　not　as　the　console　was　configured　now。　Lang　drew　his　stool　closer　and　sat　absorbed　in　the　console。　After　long　minutes　he　reached　for　a　sensor　and　hooked　it　into　one　of　the　system's　peripherals。　He　took　up　a　touchpad　and　began　keying　equations　into　his　mainframe；　scarcely　aware　he　was　doing　it。

He　paused　to　run　his　hand　along　the　console　in　thought；　recalling　its　Protoculture　thunderbolt；　and　almost　threw　down　the　touchpad。　It　was　madness！

There　was　a　sudden　flux　in　the　equipment…not　unusual；　he'd　had　to　jury…rig　a　lot　of　the　modifications　that　let　it　use　Second　Gen　Protoculture。　He　forgot　his　frustration　and　fear；　watching　rainbow　waves　of　distortion　chasing　each　other　across　the　ten…foot　screen。

Lang　did　not　even　need　to　wonder　what　he'd　see　next；　he　had　viewed　the　recording　so　many　times　that　he　knew　the　pattern　of　the　static　that　preceded　it。

He　was　staring　at　the　ageless；　elfin　face　again；　with　its　wide；　almond　eyes；　framed　by　a　mane　of　bright；　starlight　hair。　He'd　long　since　memorized　the　sounds　of　Zor's　speech　of　greeting　and　warning。

Zor's　recording。　Kicked　up　at　random　by　a　meaningless　Protoculture　hiccup；　some　might　say。

But　Lang　took　his　touchpad　back　in　hand　and　sat　down；　staring　unblinkingly　at　Zor。　When　the　recording　had　run　its　course；　he　went　back　to　his　calculations。


All　across　New　Praxis　the　surface…effect　and　aerospace　vehicles　were　on　the　move。

The　Amazons　had　e　there　with　little　agrarian　experience；　they'd　hunted；　herded；　and　gathered　the　untended　bounty　their　homeworld　offered　up　naturally。　But　they　had　met　their　new　planet's　demands　with　their　innate　adaptability　and　their　hard…nosed　refusal　to　give　up。

They　raised　some　of　their　food　in　vats；　greenhouses；　and　aeroponic　domes；　but　the　key　to　their　survival　had　been　rendering　parts　of　the　stalk　and　roots　of　the　Flower　of　Life　edible　（the　fruit　being　deadly　to　them）。　They　had　learned　to　farm。

And　now　they　were　learning　to　reap　in　a　way　they　had　never　conceived　of。

From　every　point　of　the　pass　the　ground　wagons；　air　lorries；　and　skyboats　converged。　Military；　private；　mon　carrier…every　vehicle　on　the　planet　had　been　mobilized　by　women　working　to　exhaustion　and　beyond。　None　had　slept　since　Haydon's　appearance。

In　the　main　plaza　of　Zanshar；　before　the　cloning　center；　the　pile　of　Flowers　grew。　Every　specimen　had　been　carefully　scanned　to　make　sure　it　was　unpollinated。　All　had　been　bagged　in　clearseal　to　ensure　that　they　stayed　that　way。

And　that　raised　a　troubling　point。　For　some　reason　the　mysterious　little　Pollinators；　whose　nature　it　was　to　tend　the　Flowers　and　who　had　ranged　freely　across　New　Praxis；　had　disappeared。　Some　thought　that　an　evil　portent；　but　no　one　dared　voice　the　opinion。

The　pile　of　bagged　Flowers　grew　and　grew；　higher　and　higher；　until　it　had　attained　the　top　step　and　spilled　against　the　high　front　doors　of　the　cloning　center。

Bela　watched　from　the　opposite　end　of　the　main　thoroughfare；　from　the　uppermost　parapet　of　her　castle。　The　Amazons'　big　orbital　freight　shuttle　was　nearly　ready　to　receive　the　bounty　of　New　Praxis。　Cargo　pods　were　already　being　wheeled　into　place　to　transport　the　Flowers。

Bela　had　sent　her　guards　and　advisers　from　her。　Silently　she　watched　through　the　night　as　Flowers　were　trundled　off　toward　the　shuttle　pad。　The　shuttle　lifted　off　like　a　morning　star　for　its　flight　into　high…orbit　and　a　rendezvous　with　Haydon　IV　（how　the　artificial　world　had　drawn　so　close　without　colliding　with　New　Praxis　or；　at　the　very　least；　causing　catastrophic　damage；　no　one　knew）。　It　would　return　with　the　sealed；　prefabricated　modules　that　would　be　activated　to　form　a　new　Whaashi。

But　in　the　meantime；　what　dark　harvest　have　we　reaped？　The　thought　came　like　a　sword　cut；　over　and　over。


CHAPTER　TWENTY…NINE

〃Peter　Pan；　huh？〃　I　said　to　him。　〃Hope　we　packed　plenty　of　pixie　dust；　Tink。〃
Louie　Nichols；　remark　to　General　Vincent　Grant；　quoted　in　Nichols's　Tripping　the　Light　Fantastic　（fourth　edition）

In　spite　of　himself；　he　was　nearly　nodding　off　when　he　felt　his　wife's　fingers　dig　into　his　arm。　〃Max！　Look！〃

The　fingers　sank　in　with　enough　strength　to　make　him　wince；　being　a　mother　had　not　robbed　Miriya　of　any　of　her　Zentraedi　sinew　and　vigor。　Max　was　instantly　wide　awake；　sitting　up　straight　on　the　sleeping　pad　he　and　Miriya　had　thrown　down　on　the　bare　deck　to　keep　a　vigil　by　their　daughter。

He　saw　what　she　meant　at　once：　Aurora　was　blinking　as　if　ing　out　of　a　dream；　and　the　apparitions　that　were　the　SDF…3　children　had　vanished。

Miriya　was　first　to　her　daughter's　side；　feeling　her　forehead　with　one　hand；　checking　her　pulse　with　the　other。　On　the　other　deck　levels；　people　were　taking　note　of　the　change。

Aurora　put　up　with　the　fussing　but　insisted；　〃I'm　all　right；　Mother。　Father。〃　She　put　an　arm　around　each　of　them　and　hugged。

Max　offered　up　a　prayer　of　thanks。　Aurora　was　so　ethereal；　so　seemingly　unsuited　for　hardship　and　strife…it　broke　his　heart　whenever　he　thought　of　her　ing　to　harm。

Jean　Grant　had　arrived　to　gently　nudge　Miriya　aside　and　run　a　diagnostic　scanner　over　Aurora。　Louie　Nichols　was　there；　too；　practically　jumping　up　and　down；　dying　to　ply　Aurora　with　questions。　Max　laid　a　restraining　arm　on　him。　〃Give　her　a　minute；　Doctor。〃

〃Jean；　I'm　perfectly　fine；〃　Aurora　insisted　gently；　pushing　the　scanner　away。　〃And　we　really　haven't　any　more　time　to　waste。〃

〃What　happened　to　the　children？〃　Louie　burst　out；　unable　to　contain　himself　anymore。　〃Why'd　they　break　contact？〃

〃I'm　still　in　fourth…level　contact　with　them；〃　Aurora　corrected。　〃But　second…level；　which　you　saw　earlier；　is　somewhat　draining。　And　it's　no　longer　necessary；　I　know　our　course　now。〃

She　stepped　through　the　circle　of　people　around　her　to　a　makeshift　ramp　that　led　toward　the　control　area。　Jean　protested；　〃Wait；　sugar；　you　need　to　rest　a　bit。〃

〃There's　no　time；　Jean。〃　But　before　Aurora　could　set　foot　on　the　ramp；　Max　blocked　her　way。　〃Hold　on　a　second；　hon。　You　have　to　tell　us　what's　going　on。〃

She　smiled　at　him　sweetly。　A　smile　like　a　springtime　sunrise；　he　thought；　her　shoulders　felt　so　frail　in　his　hands。

〃Well；　I　have　to　take　control　of　the　interfaces；　to　direct　the　Peter　Pan　on　the　last　leg　of　the　trip；〃　she　told　him。　〃Basically；　we're　navigating　through　as　mind　continuum；　you　might　say。　As　Marlene　told　you；　it's　what　the　SDFers　call　newspace。　Different　from　the　physical　universe　and　even　from　Doctor　Nichols's　cyber…dimensions。　So　I　have　to　take　the　helm　to　guide　us。〃

Her　face　changed　then；　being　sober；　and　Max　felt　her　delicate　hands　close　on　his。　〃And　there's　something　else。　Newspace　reacts　to　what's　in　us；　our　thoughts　and　emotions　and　experiences。　It　has　no　true　form　of　its　own；　and　so　it　draws　from　what　it　finds。　The　children　say　be　very　careful　what　we　say　and　do　and　think。〃

〃Yes；〃　someone　agreed；　and　Max　saw　Marlene　standing　nearby。　A　somber；　intent　Scott　Bernard　hung　back　a　step　behind　her。　〃We　must　all　be　careful　now；〃　Marlene　went　on。

〃Mm…hm；〃　Aurora　said；　hair　bobbing　as　she　nodded　her　head。　Then　she　drew　his　head　down　so　that　she　could　whisper　in　Max's　ear。　〃But　especially　you；　Father。〃


〃And　the　Praxians　don't　respond？〃　Exedore　frowned。　Cabell；　raised　his　hands　hopelessly；　then　dropped　them　again。　Before　them；　the　big　transignal　municator　was　silent。　〃The　installation　we　left　on　New　Praxis　was　working；〃　Cabell　insisted。　〃The　last　message　from　Bela　talked　about　disturbing　dream　aberrations；　and　our　remote　instruments　indicated　that　Haydon　IV　was　approaching　the　planet。　As　you　can　see；　our　link　with　the　Amazons　is　now　silent。　The　obvious　conclusion　is　that　Haydon　is　awake。　I　fear　the　worst。〃

〃The　Flowers；〃　Exedore　rasped；　running　a　hand　through　the　bright　disarray　of　his　hair。

Cabell　inclined　his　head　slowly。　〃The　Flowers；　of　course。　And　after　that；　inevitably；　the　matrix。〃

They　turned　as　one　to　look　out　the　window　of　the　lab　at　the　immense　rebuilt　pyramid　that　was　the　Royal　Hall；　where　the　only　Second　Gen　matrix…the　〃facsimile；〃　as　Lang　called　it…had　been　stirred　to　fitful；　difficult…to…control　life。

〃What　if　we　simply　surrender　it　to　Haydon？〃　Exedore　mulled。

Cabell　answered；　〃It　may　e　to　that　in　the　end；　but　I　would　see　our　subsequent　chances　of　survival　as　very　slim。〃　And　by　〃our〃　he　meant　every　single　living　thing　in　the　universe　and　possibly；　knowing　Cabell；　its　inanimate　material　as　well。

〃We　could　create　another　matrix；〃　Exedore　said。

Cabell　put　into　words　what　they　both　knew。　〃Yes；　but　that　would　take　time；　perhaps　months；　and　Haydon　will　not　endure　such　a　wait。　No；　He　means　to　supercharge　the　matrix　with　the　Flowers　from　New　Praxis　and　start　at　long　last　on　His　final　journey。〃

There　was　a　rapping　at　the　open　door：　Lantas；　Cabell's　new　student　and　research　assistant　since　her　return　aboard　the　ship　andeered　by　Dana　Sterling　and　the　15th　ATACs。　She　was　the　last　surviving　member　of　a　Scientist　triumvirate；　a　bright　and　energetic　young　woman；　her　hair　a　mass　of　pink　ringlets。　She　had　adopted　a　protective；　almost　proprietary　attitude　toward　Cabell　and　Exedore；　making　them　the　missing　members　of　a　new　triumvirate。

Now；　though；　Lantas　looked　young　and　frightened。　She　said；　〃The　captains　of　the　Local　Group　are　here。〃

They　trooped　into　the　room　Karbarran　and　Spherisian；　Garudan　and　Perytonian。　Strange　to　see　them　striding　along　together；　when　in　the　near　past　there　had　been　so　much　friction　among　them。

The　captains　drew　to　a　halt　before　the　three。　Hodel；　the　burly　Karbarran；　spoke　for　them；　the　flotilla　was　mostly　Karbarran；　after　all。　〃We　have　had　word　of　Haydon's　approach。　Tirol　has　given　us　reason　to　hate　it　over　the　centuries；　but　in　the　Sentinels　War；　you　here　became　our　allies。　More　to　the　point；　we　think　your　researches　into　using　the　matrix　to　halt　the　shrinkage　of　the　cosmos　are　our　only　hope　of　survival。　We　therefore　cannot　surrender　the　matrix　to　Haydon；　no　matter　what。

〃Tracialle　will　lead　the　fleet　into　battle。　Your　Tiresian　techs　have　agreed　to　man　the　Valivarre。〃　His　main　regret　was　that　the　powerful　Ark　Angel　had；　after　delivering　the　scientists　to　Tirol；　departed　for　return　to　Earth；　it　would　have　added　tremendously　to　the　flotilla's　firepower。

Exedore　had　heard　something　about　the　Tiresians'　crewing…Valivarre　for　battle。　With　all　the　Zentraedi　gone　save　only　himself；　the　ship　had　to　be　refitted　for　use　by　Micronians；　of　course。　But　how　surprising　that　the　clones；　after　centuries　of　docility；　should　leap　to　defend　their　planet　and　the　matrix　with　all　the　stoic　determination　of　Zentraedi　in　a　suicide　charge。　It　was　a　time　of　horrors　but；　truly；　a　time　of　wonders　as　well。

〃I　tell　you　again　that　I　doubt　you　have　any　chance　of　victory；〃　Cabell　was　saying。　〃But　I　know　that　won't　dissuade　you。　What；　then；　do　you　wish　of　us？〃

A　Perytonian；　Purg；　spoke　up；　tossing　his　needle…sharp　horns　as　he　did。　〃Tell　us　of　the　Awareness；　the　seat　of　its　consciousness；　where　its　vulnerabilities　lie。　It　is　weak　now；　if　we　destroy　it；　Haydon　will　be　unable　to　wage　war。〃

Cabell　was　shaking　his　head　measuredly。　〃Firstly；　the　planet　has　gone　through　such　radical　mechamorphosis　that　there　is　no　telling　where　the　Awareness　is　now。　Nor　is　there　any　reliable　way　of　detecting　it。

〃But　more　importantly；　destroying　the　Awareness　will　not　guarantee　that　Haydon　is　powerless；　far　from　it。　I　implore　you