James Tiptree Jr. - Up the Walls of the World

“Then test! Let us test at once!” Scomber flares.

Old Heagran extends himself to his full majesty, the sag of his venerable body exposed. Despite their differences, even the Fathers behind Scomber dim their mantles; he appears so truly the Father of them all.

“I see that many of you are prepared to contemplate this crime,” he signs somberly. “But have you considered what Giadoc has told us, that these alien lives are brutish and short? Surely you do not expect to engender Tyrenni children from the flesh of alien bodies? Your children, if they live, will die without issue. Their children will be animals. Of what use to commit this dreadful deed, only to condemn them to die alone upon an alien, perhaps horrible, world?”

His words visibly affect the Fathers; some of those near Scomber draw away. But suddenly a small, bright form jets forward—Avanil, leader of the Paradomin. She hovers before the three huge males, a proud, pathetic figure with her grotesque double field.

“Fathers! Have we not all our lives learned that Fathering is all? That only a Father’s field can shape a fully formed person? Is this not why you claim our reverence and obedience? Now I ask, do you or do you not have this power? If you do, surely your Fathering can shape children into true Tyrenni, no matter how alien their form. Or are we to know that your Fathering is a mere pretext for status? Have we been made to believe a lie?”

Commotion, angry outbursts among the Deepers. Scomber, Heagran and Lomax are all flushed with wordless indignation. But before they can express their wrath, a young male behind Scomber pushes forward.

“The female has spoken enough,” he signs in tones sparkling with disdain. “But what she says is not pointless. Do we doubt our Fatherly powers? Even in strange bodies, among strange winds, I for one believe that our sons could rear children of their spirit, true Tyrenni! I believe that Tyree can live on!”

“Well spoken, Terenc!” To Tivonel’s dismay, it is Tiavan’s voice-lights. How bitter for Giadoc must be his son’s willingness to steal lives. Other young Fathers flash strongly in agreement above the shrill lights of the Paradomin.

“Test, then!” signs Scomber. “Lomax, your tests must begin.”

“I pray to the Great Wind you may fail.” Heagran’s tone is deep blue with spiritual pain, his field close-drawn. “I cannot fight against the Fathers of children. Lomax, proceed.”

“Why not test all three points at once?” asks Terenc. “Giadoc can carry another with him and discover whether or not they are detected and attacked. Then they can also test their ability to remain when you Hearers withdraw the Beam.”

“Impractical, Father.” Lomax replies. “We can indeed test the first two together, but if we withdraw the Beam and fail to reconnect again, we will lose the answers as well as our most experienced Beam traveler, Giadoc. If you will accept my warning, let us—”

Tivonel attends only distantly; she is still thinking of what Avanil, or Avan has said.

“Do you believe that, Marockee? Could a Father shape an alien mind into a Tyrenni?”

“I’ll tell you something even wilder,” Marockee murmurs. “Avan’s been thinking about this a long time. She and the others were at Near Pole asking if there are any worlds where the females raise the children. Can you imagine, where the females are Fathers? That’s what she wants to find, that’s why she wants to do this.”

“But, but how could that be?” Tivonel laughs. “Males are bigger and stronger, they’d obviously keep the babies. Just the way they would here if some female was crazy enough to try to steal one.”

“No, listen. She says that if you have a race where the females raise the young, they’d obviously be bigger and stronger, just like the males are here. We’d be like Fathers!”

“Whew!” Tivonel is attending absently, half her attention on Giadoc, who is waiting on the outer edges of the crowd around Scomber and Lomax. She notices that his field is pointedly structured away from the direction of Tiavan. How sad.

At this moment the life-bands resonate with a message signal, and a young female comes jetting through the Wall from the direction of the pods.

“Father!” she flashes. “A message-relay from Deep. All the Hearers have left Near Pole and are coming here. They say that another of the last worlds between us and the Destroyer has died and the Sound is getting very loud. Dead burned plants and animals are increasing in the layers near Deep. Many Fathers are carrying their young to the lower depths. Other people are making their way up here, without pods or guides, to get as far as possible from the Sound. We’re sending scouts down to help them.”

“The tests,” exclaims Scomber. “Lomax, begin. We have no time to waste.”

“The additional Hearers would help us,” Lomax objects. “Can we not await their coming?”

“No!” Scomber roars in crimson fury. “Are you trying to delay until death takes us all? You say your Beam is already in contact with a suitable world. Now get this young Giadoc up there with an untrained person to carry. Let him merge only long enough to find whether he is undetected and if we will be safe on that world!”

“Very well.” Lomax furls himself gravely before old Heagran, who has remained sternly dark, and turns to the Hearers. “Broxo, Rava, take your helpers out to the stations around the Wall and raise the Beam to strength. Giadoc, you will go up to your usual position, ready to enter the focus, when the Beam-signal comes.”

The Hearers jet off along the Wall. Tivonel watches Giadoc start for his station high above them, his field taking on strange, vivid configurations as he goes. Even the defection of his son has not damped his love of the far reaches.

“Now, who will mind-travel with him, Father Scomber?” Lomax demands. “Remember, the test is dangerous; the person must extend his life over unimaginable distances, and touch an alien mind. It is possible that he will suffer severe damage, even lose his life. Who will volunteer?”

“I shall, of course,” returns Scomber. “If this be a crime, let me be the first to suffer the consequences. My children are grown.”

“No, Scomber. With all respect to your courage, you are a Father of great field-strength and your success would prove nothing. We need a person of ordinary powers, to show that our children could escape in this way.”

Scomber flushes, but admits reluctantly, “True. Very well; who then will volunteer?”

Tivonel has been wistfully watching Giadoc. But now her attention is drawn by a stir among the Deepers. Avanil and two of her followers are pushing forward.

Without stopping to think, she bursts out through the plant lattice and brakes to a halt between Scomber and Lomax.

“I volunteer! I am Tivonel, a hunter of the Wild and an ordinary female. Take me!”

The two big males contemplate her for a moment in surprise.

“True, and suitable,” signs Lomax finally. “Very well, Tivonel, you shall go. May the Great Wind bear you. Go up, take your place beside Giadoc and prepare to follow his commands.”

To Dann’s relief the mood at supper is light hearted, even merry. Noah’s people are alone in the echoing messhall, eating early with the June sun high overhead. Kirk and his dog are away, staying in some part of Deerfield Dann guesses he will never see.

Kirk’s absence greatly improves the tone. Noah expands, plays father to his little band, and tells a funny tale of a long-ago subject who kept receiving a mysterious number that turned out to be his girl’s bank balance. Somehow it conveys the old man’s long struggle. “That was before we had a computer capability, Miss Omali.”