Butler, Octavia - Dawn

"What are those things?" she asked, gesturing toward one with a foot.

"Part of the ship. They can be induced to produce a liquid we and our animals enjoy. It wouldn't be good for you."

"Are they plant or animal?"

"They aren't separate from the ship."

"Well, is the ship plant or animal?"

"Both, and more."

Whatever that meant. "Is it intelligent?"

"It can be. That part of it is dormant now. But even so, the ship can be chemically induced to perform more functions than you would have the patience to listen to. it does a great deal on its own without monitoring. And it. . ." He fell silent for a moment, his tentacles smooth against his body. Then he continued, "The human doctor used to say it loved us. There is an affinity, but it's biological-a strong, symbiotic relationship. We serve the ship's needs and it serves ours. It would die without us and we would be planetbound without it. For us, that would eventually mean death."

"Where did you get it?"

"We grew it."

"You. . . or your ancestors?"

"My ancestors grew this one. I'm helping to grow another."

"Now? Why?"

"We'll divide here. We're like mature asexual animals in that way, but we divide into three: Dinso to stay on Earth until it is ready to leave generations from now; Toaht to leave in this ship; and Akjai to leave in the new ship."

Lilith looked at him. "Some of you will go to Earth with us?"

"I will, and my family and others. All Dinso."

"Why?"

"This is how we grow-how we've always grown. We'll take the knowledge of shipgrowing with us so that our descendants will be able to leave when the time comes. We couldn't survive as a people if we were always confined to one ship or one world."

"Will you take. . . seeds or something?"

"We'll take the necessary materials."

"And those who leave-Toaht and Akjai-you'll never see them again?"

"I won't. At some time in the distant future, a group of my descendants might meet a group of theirs. I hope that will happen. Both will have divided many times. They'll have acquired much to give one another."

"They probably won't even know one another. They'll remember this division as mythology if they remember it at all."

"No, they'll recognize one another. Memory of a division is passed on biologically. I remember every one that has taken place in my family since we left the homeworld."

"Do you remember your homeworld itself? I mean, could you get back to it if you wanted to?"

"Go back?" His tentacles smoothed again. "No, Lilith, that's the one direction that's closed to us. This is our homeworld now." He gestured around them from what seemed to be a glowing ivory sky to what seemed to be brown soil.

There were many more of the huge trees around them now, and she could see people going in and out of the trunks-naked, gray Oankali, tentacled all over, some with two arms, some, alarmingly, with four, but none with anything she recognized as sexual organs. Perhaps some of the tentacles and extra arms served a sexual function.

She examined every cluster of Oankali for humans, but saw none. At least none of the Oankali came near her or seemed to pay any attention to her. Some of them, she noticed with a shudder, had tentacles covering every inch of their heads all around. Others had tentacles in odd, irregular patches. None had quite Jdahya's humanlike arrangement- tentacles placed to resemble eyes, ears, hair. Had Jdahya's work with humans been suggested by the chance arrangement of his head tentacles or had he been altered surgically or in some other way to make him seem more human?

"This is the way I have always looked," he said when she asked, and he would not say any more on the subject.

Minutes later they passed near a tree and she reached out to touch its smooth, slightly giving bark-like the walls of her isolation room, but darker-colored. "These trees are all buildings, aren't they?" she asked.

"These structures are not trees," he told her. "They're part of the ship. They support its shape, provide necessities for us-food, oxygen, waste disposal, transport conduits, storage and living space, work areas, many things."

They passed very near a pair of Oankali who stood so close together their head tentacles writhed and tangled together. She could see their bodies in clear detail. Like the others she had seen, these were naked. Jdahya had probably worn clothing only as a courtesy to her. For that she was grateful.

The growing number of people they passed near began to disturb her, and she caught herself drawing closer to Jdahya as though for protection. Surprised and embarrassed, she made herself move away from him. He apparently noticed.

"Lilith?" he said very quietly.

''What?"

Silence.

"I'm all right," she said. "It's just. . . so many people, and so strange to me."

"Normally, we don't wear anything."

"I'd guessed that."

"You'll be free to wear clothing or not as you like."

"I'll wear it!" She hesitated. "Are there any other humans Awake where you're taking me?"

"None."

She hugged herself tightly, arms across her chest. More isolation.

To her surprise, he extended his hand. To her greater surprise, she took it and was grateful.

"Why can't you go back to your homeworld?" she asked. "It. . . still exists, doesn't it?"

He seemed to think for a moment. "We left it so long ago. . . I doubt that it does still exist."

"Why did you leave?"

"It was a womb. The time had come for us to be born." She smiled sadly. "There were humans who thought that way-right up to the moment the missiles were fired. People who believed space was our destiny. I believed it myself."

"I know-though from what the ooloi have told me, your people could not have fulfilled that destiny. Their own bodies handicapped them."

"Their... our bodies? What do you mean? We've been into space. There's nothing about our bodies that prevented-"

"Your bodies are fatally flawed. The ooloi perceived this at once. At first it was very hard for them to touch you. Then you became an obsession with them. Now it's hard for them to let you alone."

"What are you talking about!"

"You have a mismatched pair of genetic characteristics. Either alone would have been useful, would have al the survival of your species. But the two together are lethal. It was only a matter of time before they destroyed you."

She shook her head. "If you're saying we were genetically programmed to do what we did, blow ourselves up.-"

"No. Your people's situation was more like your own with the cancer my relative cured. The cancer was small. The human doctor said you would probably have recovered and been well even if humans had discovered it and removed it at that stage. You might have lived the rest of your life free of it, though she said she would have wanted you checked regularly."

"With my family history, she wouldn't have had to tell me that last."

"Yes. But what if you hadn't recognized the significance of your family history? What if we or the humans hadn't discovered the cancer."

"It was malignant, I assume."

"Of course."

"Then I suppose it would eventually have killed me."

"Yes, it would have. And your people were in a similar position. If they had been able to perceive and solve their problem, they might have been able to avoid destruction. Of course, they too would have to remember to reexamine themselves periodically."

"But what was the problem? You said we had two incompatible characteristics. What were they?"

Jdahya made a rustling noise that could have been a sigh, but that did not seem to come from his mouth or throat. "You are intelligent," he said. "That's the newer of the two characteristics, and the one you might have put to work to save yourselves. You are potentially one of the most intelligent species we've found, though your focus is different from ours. Still, you had a good start in the life sciences, and even in genetics."