Infinity's Shore

“I thought you were talking about my Jijoan heresy. I used to be part of a movement”—he winced, remembering his friend Harullen—“whose goal was to persuade the Six Races to end our illegal colony … by voluntary means.”

She nodded. “A virtuous stance, by Galactic standards. Though not easy for organic beings, who are programmed for sex and propagation.”

Lark felt his face flush, and was grateful for the dim light.

“Well, the question is out of our hands now,” he said. “Even if Ro-kenn’s plagues are cured, the Jophur can wipe us out if they like. Or else they’ll hand us over to the Institutes, and we’ll have the Judgment Day described in the Sacred Scrolls. That might come as a relief, after the last few months. At least it’s how we always imagined things would end.”

“Though your people hoped it wouldn’t happen till you’d been redeemed. Yes, I know that’s your Jijoan orthodoxy. But I was talking about a heresy of science—the way you and Uthen organized animal types in your work — by species, genus, phylum, and so on. You use the old cladistic system of pre-contact Earthling taxonomy.”

He nodded. “We do have a few texts explaining Galactic nomenclature. But most of our books came from Earth archives. Few human biologists had changed over to Galactic systematics by the time the Tabernacle took off.”

“I never saw cladistics used in a real ecosystem,” Ling commented. “You present a strong argument for it.”

“Well, in our case it’s making a virtue out of necessity.

We’re trying to understand Jijo’s past and present by studying a single slice of time — the one we’re living in. For evidence, all we have to go on are the common traits of living animals … and the fossils we dig up. That’s comparable to mapping the history of a continent by studying layers of rocks. Earthlings did a lot of that kind of science before contact, like piecing together evidence of a crime, long after the body has grown cold. Galactics never needed those interpolative techniques. Over the course of eons they simply watch and record the rise and fall of mountains, and the divergence of species. Or else they make new species through gene-splicing and uplift.”

Ling nodded, considering this. “We’re taught contempt for wolfling science. I suppose it affected the way I treated you, back when … well, you know.”

If that was an apology, Lark accepted it gladly.

“I wasn’t exactly honest with you either, as I recall.”

She laughed dryly. “No, you weren’t.”

Another silence stretched. Lark was about to talk some more about biology, when he realized that was exactly the wrong thing to do. What had earlier served to bridge an uncomfortable silence would now only maintain a reserve, a neutrality he did not want anymore. Awkwardly, he moved to change the subject.

“What kind of …” He swallowed and tried again. “I have a brother, and a sister. I may have mentioned them before. Do you have family … back at …”

He let the question hang, and for a moment Lark worried he had dredged a subject too painful and personal. But her relieved look showed Ling, too, wanted to move on.

“I had a baby brother,” she said. “And a share daughter, whose up-parents were very nice. I miss them all very much.”

For the next midura, Lark listened in confusion to the complex Danik way of life on far-off Poria Outpost. Mostly, he let Ling pour out her sadness, now that even her liberated crew mates were like aliens to her, and nothing would ever be the same.

Later, it seemed wholly natural to stretch his sleeping bag next to hers. Divided by layers of cloth and fluffy torg, their bodies shared warmth without touching. Yet, in his heart, Lark felt a comfort he had lacked till now.

She doesn’t hate me.

It was a good place to start.

The second dive seemed to go quicker, at first. They had a better knack for underwater travel now, though several human volunteers had to fill in for blue qheuens who were sick.

About the illness, recent word from topside was encouraging. The vaccine samples seemed to help the first few victims. Better yet, the molecules could be traeki-synthe-sized. Still, it was too soon for cheers. Even in the event of a complete cure, there were problems of distribution. Could cures reach all the far-flung communities before whole populations of qheuens and hoons were devastated?

Back at the Rothen ship, they found the airlock already occupied by crew members wearing diving gear — three humans and a Rothen — along with slim crates of supplies. Like wax figures, they stood immobile while Lark and Ling trained new assistants in the strange art they had learned the day before. Then it was time to begin making another tunnel through the golden time-stuff.