Timothy Zahn - The Green And The Gray

He closed his eyes again. "The Grays continued to fire as the rock began to splinter around them, now specifically targeting the Groundshakers. But they were too late. The Eastcliffs broke and fell, and their attack was finally ended."

"Yes," Roger murmured. "But there was still the Gray colony on the other side of the Great Valley."

"A much larger colony, too," Nikolos agreed quietly. "By the time the morning light began to struggle through the smoke rising from our ruined trees, the war had begun in earnest. In the space of a few days it had spread to the entire Great Valley."

He shook his head sadly. "And within a handful of months, it was clear there was no hope. The Great Valley we'd loved had become a killing ground: thousands of us dead, thousands of our trees burned or shattered into splinters. Many thousands of our enemies were dead too, of course. But if we continued as we were, the only end could be the mutual destruction of both our peoples."

"Which is where Velovsky's story picks up," Roger said as understanding struck him. "Your Leaders decided to leave."

"They decided to save a remnant," Nikolos corrected. "Sixty of us were selected, representing most of the Gifts, with my father chosen to lead them. The Farseers had located a new home, and a vehicle was constructed to take us there. The remaining Groundshakers and Manipulators joined their strength together beneath the guidance of the Visionaries; and in the beat of a hummingbird's wing we were here."

His eyes drifted to the tall windows. "It was a strange world, noisy and dirty, full of people whose speech we couldn't understand," he said in a low voice. "But all we could see was the fact that the terrible war with the Grays was over, and that at last we were safe."

Roger snorted gently. "And so, of course, eleven years later Adolf Hitler would touch off the worst war our world had ever known."

Nikolos smiled. "The universe does have a sense of irony."

"Did your people fight in that war?" Caroline asked.

"Not in that one, or in any since," Nikolos told her. "I'm sure you realize that allowing military doctors to examine us would be a disaster. No, our Persuaders kept us out of the army, while we found other ways to serve our adopted country."

"In war factories?" Roger asked.

"Many of our Arm Workers did so, yes," Nikolos said, nodding. "Others found more creative ways.

Have you ever heard about the German sabotage team who slipped ashore from a U-boat on Long Island in June of 1942?"

Caroline shook her head. "No."

"Actually, I think I have," Roger said, frowning as he searched his memory. "Didn't they run straight into a soldier patrolling the beach?"

"A Coast Guardsman, actually," Nikolos corrected. "A young man, only twenty-one, alone and in heavy fog. But instead of killing him and moving on, the saboteurs tried to bribe him, then simply let him go. Historians generally put it down to their reluctance to kill someone so young in cold blood."

"But you have a different theory?" Roger suggested.

"We know the truth," Nikolos said. "Our Warriors were patrolling the New York coastal areas, including Long Island, watching for precisely this sort of thing. The one who detected this particular group was close enough to a Persuader to call her in. She manipulated them into letting the young man go."

His lips twitched a smile. "She also persuaded one of the saboteurs to give himself up a week later, after the efforts by the Coast Guard, Naval Intelligence, and the FBI had come up empty."

A stray memory popped into Roger's mind: Stavros, at the Green apartment building near Central Park, opening doors without bothering to knock, as if he already had permission to enter. "I presume the Warrior didn't need a radio to call in the Persuader?"

"We can communicate with each other over short distances, yes," Nikolos confirmed. "For most of us, the range is no more than the length of a city block. Those with the particular Gift of Farspeaking are stronger, able to send and receive thoughts over much greater distances."

He smiled faintly. "We can't read Human minds, either, in case you were wondering."

"But you can talk to our minds," Caroline spoke up. "The Greens who came to our apartment yesterday afternoon were calling to me."

Nikolos made a face. "That would have been Cyril," he said. "Only a Persuader or Farspeaker would have the strength to send a message to a Human."

"Or to talk our super into unlocking our apartment," Roger put in. "How did he find us, anyway?"

"We'd seen a Gray searching that area the previous night, and guessed that they knew something we didn't," Nikolos said. "When Cyril got your name from Sylvia, he took it upon himself to check out all the Roger Wh-somethings in the area."

He looked at Caroline. "Once he learned your name, Caroline, he apparently decided to try to contact you."

"And to see if he could get Melantha back directly?" Caroline asked.

Nikolos hesitated. "Like all the rest of us, Cyril uses his Gift only for what he thinks best for our people."

"And how exactly does killing Melantha fit in with that noble goal?" Roger asked, folding his arms across his chest. "So far everyone we've met has done a tap dance around that question."

"I'm far too old to dance," Nikolos said tiredly. "The fact is that she was an unexpected surprise, a Gift that shouldn't have appeared until our population was at least twice the size it is now."

He sighed. "Melantha, you see," he said, "is a Groundshaker."

Something hard and cold settled into the pit of Caroline's stomach. That couldn't be right. Not the fragile young girl with bruises on her throat whom she'd helped carry to their apartment. Not the girl she'd played cards with, and fed eggs and cheese to, and dressed in her own clothes. Not the girl who'd sobbed on her shoulder in misery and grief and loneliness.

But even as the reflexive denial rose in her throat, another, darker image flashed through her mind.

Melantha, no longer young or fragile, standing tall and strong in the courtyard last night, unflinching as the old woman's scream washed over her and sending back a terrible, defiant scream of her own.

A scream that had sent the ground heaving beneath Caroline like a stung horse.

"That's crazy," Roger insisted. "Melantha?"

"Believe it," Nikolos said darkly. "The test was run by the Farseers and confirmed by the Manipulators. It is accurate."

"It is, Roger," Caroline told him. "She did it last night, before you got there. She shook the whole courtyard."

"And that was only a fraction of the power she'll have when she reaches adulthood." Nikolos turned to look out the window. "The skyscrapers of New York are earthquake-proof, or so their designers claim," he said quietly. "But they have no idea how much focused power a Groundshaker can unleash. She will literally be able to bring down any building she chooses."

"Like 9/11," Caroline murmured. "Only a hundred times worse."

"Exactly," Nikolos said, nodding. "You see now why it's vital that we get her back."

"I'm sorry, but I still don't understand," Roger said. "I can see why the Grays would want to get rid of her. But she told Caroline everyone wanted her dead. Grays and Greens."

"Well, I don't want her dead," Nikolos said. "Neither do Aleksander and his supporters. But Cyril's managed to persuade more of us that her sacrifice would be in our best long-term interests. Now that the decision's been made, there's nothing the rest of us can do about it."

Caroline frowned. But if that was the case, why had Sylvia tried so hard to get Roger to bring Melantha to her and Aleksander? "So it's like a democracy?" she asked. "You vote on what to do, then assume everyone will fall into line behind the decision?"