Nebula Awards Showcase 2012

“According to her, she’s the largest.”

Leaning forward in her seat, Dr. Merced said, “She told you that?”

“Not just that. She claimed to be not only the original swale, but the original plasma life form. She said she became a swale.”

In a tone of amazement, Dr. Merced took the Lord’s name in vain. She reached over to her comm and punched in an address. When a man responded, she said, “Taro, I think you need to come hear this.” Looking at me, she said, “Dr. Sasaki specializes in solcetacean evolutionary theory.”

When Dr. Sasaki, a gray-haired Japanese gentleman, arrived, I relayed to him what Leviathan had told me about her history. When I finished, he said, “It’s not impossible. I always suspected the Class 10s knew more about their origins than they bothered to tell us. But forgive me, Mr. Malan, how do we know Leviathan actually told you she was the original life-form? Why would she choose to tell you and not one of us?” He motioned toward himself and Dr. Merced.

I decided to not be offended at the implication that I was a liar. “I can’t say I know why Leviathan does anything, but . . . You scientists who study the swales have strict rules about interfering with swale culture, and you try to avoid offending them. To me that smacks of condescension—you presume that swale culture is weak and cannot withstand any outside influence. Well, maybe the swales tend to think the same about human culture, so they avoid interference and try not to offend us.”

Dr. Sasaki frowned at me. “I disagree with your interpretation of the motives for our rules regarding interference in solcetacean culture. And I don’t see how it’s relevant.”

“I apparently offended Leviathan.” I glanced at Dr. Merced and said, “Sorry, but I didn’t realize that implying there were swales greater than her would cause offense. Her response was to tell me I was wrong, that there could be no swale greater, and that’s when she explained she was the first. Because I made her angry—something you guys avoid, thanks to rules—Leviathan responded without worrying whether she would offend me or interfere with human culture.”

“How would this information interfere with human culture?” asked Dr. Merced.

“Some swale-worshiping cults have already sprung up on Earth,” I said. “Just imagine what will happen when the news gets out that Leviathan claims to be the original life-form in the universe.”

With a suspicious look, Dr. Sasaki said, “News you will be only too happy to spread, I’m sure. There is only one Leviathan, and Harry Malan is her prophet.”

My jaw dropped. “What?”

“That’s where this is headed, isn’t it?” he said. “You go out and talk to Leviathan, then come back with some ‘revelation’ from—”

“No!” I stood up. “Absolutely not. I believe my own religion and have no intention of becoming Leviathan’s prophet. All I want is for the swales in my branch to be free from harassment. You’re just jealous because I got handed the information you’ve been bumbling about trying to find.”

He shot to his feet, but before he could say anything, Dr. Merced said, “Stop it, both of you.”

Dr. Sasaki and I stood silent, glaring at each other.

“Taro,” said Dr. Merced, “I think you’re being unfair to Mr. Malan. I truly believe he’s just trying to do what is best for his congregants.”

I gave her a grateful look.

“Even if he is misguided,” she added. “As for you, Mr. Malan, there is no reason to insult Dr. Sasaki.”

With a bow of my head, I said, “I apologize, Dr. Sasaki.”

“Apology accepted,” he said.

I noticed he did not apologize to me, but after a moment that didn’t matter because Dr. Merced said, “Now that we’re all friends again . . . Taro, will you let us preempt your next expedition in the shuttle to go talk to Leviathan?”

With the shuttle flight arranged for the next day, I returned to my quarters to work out other details. My Earth-based manager at CitiAmerica granted my request for two days’ vacation time.

Then I dialed Neuter Kimball’s comm.

“Hello, President Malan,” it said.

“Hello, Neuter Kimball. You remember our discussion the other day about whether swales should be allowed to force sexual conduct on each other?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I’ve spoken with Leviathan about it, and she has requested that we go to see her.”

Neuter Kimball did not reply.

“Are you still there?” I said.

“You . . . told Leviathan about me?” it said. It might just have been the voice synthesis, but there seemed to be fear in its tone.

“I did not mention you by name,” I said, glad I’d managed to avoid slipping up. “But she requested that I bring you to her. I think this is a chance to convince a swale with real authority to do something to stop sexual assault.”

After a short pause, Neuter Kimball said, “Why do you say Leviathan has real authority?”

“She told me she is the first and greatest of all swales. Isn’t that true?” I asked, suddenly worried that I’d been taken in by a swale con artist.

“She told you?” Neuter Kimball said. “We are not supposed to talk of it to humans, but if she has revealed herself as a god to you, then that is her choice.”

“A god? Leviathan is not a god. She’s just . . .” I stopped. What was I going to say: an ancient immortal being who created an entire race of intelligent beings? If that didn’t fit the definition of a god, it was pretty close. “Neuter Kimball, if you believe Leviathan to be a god, why did you join the Church?”

“Because I do not want her as my god.”

“Why not?”

Another long pause. “I probably should not have said anything about her.”

Going to see Leviathan to plead the case for Neuter Kimball had seemed like a great opportunity. Now I wasn’t so sure. “If you think you will be in any danger from Leviathan, you don’t have to go.”

“Do you believe God is greater than Leviathan?” Its alto voice was plaintive.

“Yes, I do,” I said.

“Then I will have faith in God and go with you.”

Unlike the much larger solar shuttle that had brought me to Sol Central Station, the observation shuttle had room for only two people. I strapped into the copilot’s seat next to Dr. Merced, although we were both essentially passengers because the shuttle’s computer would do the actual piloting.

After getting clearance from Traffic Control, the computer spun up the superconducting magnets for the Heim drive and we left the station.

On a monitor, I watched the computer-generated visualization of our shuttle approaching the energy shield that protected us from the twenty-eight million degrees Fahrenheit and the 340 billion atmospheres of pressure. I held my breath as the shield stretched, forming a bulge around the shuttle. Soon we were in a bubble still connected by a thin tube to the shield around the station. Then the tube snapped, and our bubble wobbled a bit before settling down to a sphere.

“You can start breathing again,” said Dr. Merced with a wry smile.

I did. “It was that noticeable?”

With a chuckle, she said, “The energy shield is not going to fail. It’s a self-sustaining reaction powered by the energy of the solar plasma around it.”

“Yeah, but on the station I can usually avoid thinking about what would happen if for some reason it did fail.”

“The good news is, if it did fail, you wouldn’t notice.”

“There’s a backup system?” I asked.

“No.” She grinned. “You’ll just be dead before you have time to notice.”

“Thank you for that tremendously comforting insight, Dr. Merced,” I said.