Читать книгу Farther than the Farthest Stars - Mikhail Akhmanov - Страница 2

“This is a dangerous expedition. And not only dangerous. You’ll have to go very far,” Seymour Tya, the Curator of the Avalonian Archives, said. “Evidently, their world is located beyond the Savage Galaxies and the Edge of Disintegration, and that proves…” he fell silent.

“… that the Disintegration was not a singular phenomenon,” Dr Arigato Oye continued and smirked. “Great Chaos! What a disappointment for the Holy Fathers! The world order is breaking up, their deity loses its uniqueness!”

“You should not speak ironically about that, my friend.” The Curator’s face was devoid of any expression. “The Monasteries have their goals, the Archives have different goals, but we, the Monasteries and a dozen of other congregations unite the world. The humankind will be divided without us like small groups of savages in a great ocean. Each nation on its small island, with its deities, its prejudices and languages, which people from other places cannot understand, with their ideas of good and evil, the Universe and the history of our race… A sorrowful picture! Right, Doctor?”

“Yes, you’re right,” Arigato Oye agreed. He was a biochemist and physiologist who had been studying human races for three centuries on many inhabited planets, and could well imagine the picture presented by Seymour. “However, after dispelling the old prejudices, the Monasteries think up and actively introduce new ones. This proposition of theirs about the Holy Clark Bosons and the act of creation… It could only make me smile had there not been dozens and even hundreds of billions believing in this nonsense!”

“Nevertheless, the Holy Fathers are also interested in finding the truth,” Curator Seymour said. “And because of that their representative will go with you.”

A pause followed. The night sun of Avalon, small and dim, hung over the world, illuminating the loggia with its pinkish light. There were only a table robot with beverages and glasses and two wide armchairs there – and the armchairs purred and rustled quietly, massaging the backs and bottoms of the people in them. The loggia overlooked the west, the ocean, and dark lilac clouds pierced by the lights of the moons and the sun were frozen over its surface. The spectacle was wonderful – however, like all other natural phenomena on Avalon.

“Their representative…”Arigato Oye repeated making a face. “What for? And what about his status?”

“Inspector, just an observer. That will in no way affect your authority as the head of the expedition. Remember that three men from the first expedition were murdered by local savages – and they died in such a way that it was impossible to reanimate them.”

The Curator snapped his fingers, and images started changing with idyllic seascapes as a background: headless bodies covered with blood, broken skulls, chests with the hearts torn out and ribs sticking in all directions. Dr Arigato Oye watched that horrible panopticon with icy patience. His life was long, he had worked in hundreds of worlds in the Old and New Galaxies, and not all of them could be considered safe, quiet and civilized – especially from the point of view of the one born on Avalon.

“I hope that the savages’ minds – how do they call themselves?… Borgians?… – I hope that the Borgians’ minds are closer to ours than their genetics and physiology. After all, they are humans as well…” the Curator said. “Possibly, an experienced adept will be able to influence them somehow, to calm down a raging crowd, make their rulers respect the aliens, even be awed when they see the newcomers… Believe me, an exorcist will be of help to you!”

Dr Arigato Oye rose up and went to the balustrade separating the loggia from the space full of air, spice flavours and shining coming from the sky. The city under him stretched along the sea shore. Sevilyana was one of the biggest metropolises on the planet founded in ancient times by colonists from Earth… The sight from the upper story of the Avalonian Archives was magnificent: crystal towers in residential quarters cast a ghostly glow, rainbow flashes of lightning rose up above the buildings in the central parking area – the lights were reflected and illuminated the alleys, fountains, palaces of entertainments, and piers for yachts and sea-going vessels. The embankment and the moving streets flowed from the center to the outskirts like multi-coloured rivers. The city reminded of a bird that lay down by an oval bay, pressing its body to the ground, stretching its wings and embracing the shore with them. The bird’s head, a flat granite cliff on which flourishing bushes and trees were planted, stretched into the city. Its flight feathers – residential towers in the north and south – were tousled and it seemed that the bird would push from the hard ground in a moment, flap its wings and fly to the clouds – and may be directly to the moons and the night sun.

Arigato Oye watched the city full of life for a minute or two, then ran his hand along his neat beard in a habitual gesture and cried, “Awe! Who could have thought it? Awe!”

“What is your grievance, Arigato?” Seymour Tya knitted his eyebrows and as if repeating the Doctor’s gesture, caressed the medallion on his chest. It was the symbol of power over the Avalonian Archives. It had an open book on it, coined from silver, a book from the pre-computer times, when you had to turn the pages, and the text printed on paper could not be changed and stayed the same forever. Arigato Oye saw such books only when he had been a young man, in the course of his training in secret halls of the Archives.

“I don’t need an expedition member whom I cannot control,” he said gruffly. “Today he makes the savages respect us and be awed and tomorrow he’ll start working on the crew… Tell me, sion Curator, how can I stop him? Firing at his back from around some corner?… This will hardly make our relations with the Monasteries better.”

“That’s reasonable,” Seymour Tya said and started thinking. “That’s reasonable, Doctor,” he repeated after some time. “But the problem is that the Conclave insists on its participation and even ready to compensate a part of expenses.”

“Don’t we have enough money?” Arigato Oye asked, raising his eyebrows ironically.

“We have money. But the expedition beyond the Edge of Disintegration will take a lot of money… flying so far… farther than the farthest stars… If you take the scales of our organization, the expenses are not so considerable. They are not too big for us and they are not too big for the Monasteries either. You see, my friend, they may send their own expedition, and we’re not interested in that. These Borgians need real help and not prayers.”

The Doctor’s eyebrows rose even higher.

“Their own expedition?… But where?… The planet was found by the Archives’ ship and it seemed to me that the information was kept secret. Am I wrong?”

“You’re right,” the Curator sighed. “But nothing is secret that shall not be made manifest. Our High Collegium knows definitely that they have the coordinates.”

“Did they steal them?”

“That’s an unsuitable term, Arigato. You understand that we collect and store knowledge not for ourselves but for the sake of all people, all worlds in the Galaxies. So they got them and not stole… Another matter is how the Conclave learnt about this planet at all and our preliminary research as well.”

Relations between the Archives and the Monasteries were neither hostile nor friendly, they could not be characterized by any word. Other powerful entities – those that made the Galaxies a unity, something whole notwithstanding the differences of historical traditions of separate worlds – appreciated their ties with the Archives, were willing to have contacts and paid for their services without arguing over the sums. The Galactic Trade Corporation, Transport Union, Star Patrol and sometimes even the Arbitration Court required information about inhabited planets and the planets on which no one lived, discoveries and technological achievements in this or that region, prices for goods, patents, works of art, arguments and conflicts related to colonization, repartitions of spheres of influence and other issues, all kinds of objects, events and precedents, about everything that had taken place in the Great Galaxies over the millions of years, since the very moment when the life spores flying in the void fell into the oceans of countless worlds in different ends of the Big Universe. Other inter-galactic services such as the Order for Protection of the Environment, Astronauts League, “The Sands of Time” Academy, the Free Travelers League, were engaged in research and shared their data with the Archives as their conservation method for artifacts and storage of information was of insurmountable perfection. The information network of the Archives stretched till the farthest borders of the Disintegration, they had their centers in each fourth star system that had reached a certain level in technology, the connections between them were maintained by their own fleet, the museums were full of treasures and works of art from thousands of inhabited worlds. The Archives were really the stem of civilization, its firm foundation as the galactic community of the humanoids was united not only by the outward appearance, genotype and reproduction method but also comprehension of belonging to culture no matter that it was different in certain manifestations but it was undoubtedly human. This fact was intuitively understood and accepted by everyone except the Monasteries. Knowledge, progress, culture were not empty sounds for them as the main idea was manifested in all that – the divine spark. But God was locked in the cocoon of His perfection and absolute power, and He had neither enemies, nor rivals, nor allies. He did not need them.

As a rule, He doesn’t need them, Arigato Oye told himself. But there was another human race found beyond the Edge of Disintegration, and that made the deity curious. The human race that needed to be saved… An attractive bait for the Monasteries!

“So, we can’t refuse from the thrust on us assistance,” he said. “There will be an adept in the expedition no matter if I agree or not. There will be someone representing the eternal threat.”

“I’m afraid that it’s exactly the case,” the Curator answered. His face was calm, and only a deep line appeared on his high forehead with no wrinkles. Like Dr Arigato, Seymour Tya was born on Avalon and belonged to one of the chosen human races not knowing diseases or old age. Arigato Oye could only guess how many centuries old the Curator was. He also thought about his wife Diane Khan and felt acute regret. But those memories were not for this time and place.

“If there is no alternative, I have to resign myself.” He returned to his armchair, sat down and drank the fruit beverage from his glass. “However, I’ll feel myself better if there is a man in the team capable to oppose the adept. Best of all, a mercenary, skillful with arms. I think that our Collegium will agree to that – me and my people need guards. We don’t want to repeat the fate of the first expedition.”

Seymour Tya nodded.

“I’ll support you as a Collegium member, sion Arigato. You can select anyone from our elite guards or if you want to, from the Arbitration Court Division. They have excellent officers there.”

“They won’t suit, and people from either the Order or the Astronauts League won’t suit. I need a man free from obligations, with whom I can sign a personal contract. Reliable, skillful, loyal warrior with a certain psychological profile… You understand what I’m speaking about.”

The Curator nodded again.

“Not subjected to mental influence… A guy whose protection is not instruments, devices and implants but an innate talent if that is possible… Well, and whom do you suggest?”

Arigato Oye touched the rim of his glass with his nail, and the glass responded with a long silvery jingling.

“A gold digger from asteroids?… A colonist from the Borderline Galaxies?… Well… No, they won’t do! Such people have a lot of survival experience and their reaction is excellent, but they are not professional fighters. It seems that a Hunter will do… Their Brotherhood is known in many worlds and well-reputed.”

The Curator smirked.

“You want a hero? A half-god, a warrior fighting monsters like in ancient times?”

“This is the image from adventure serials, sion Curator. The superman Hunter saves the Princess, covering the way with dragon and bad guy corpses… Everything is simpler in life. They have a good reputation, they are loyal to their employers and always fulfill the contract, but they ask a high price for their services.”

“The latter is not a problem,” Seymour Tya shrugged his shoulders. Then he moved his hand, and the Information Screen again appeared in the air obeying his gesture. Names, faces, planet landscapes and pictures of some horrible monsters started flashing in its turquoise depth. “Here is their Register with the chronicle of the Hunters’ feats,” the Curator said. “Most likely, we need someone from the first hundred and even better from the first ten. Let’s see what they have to offer… Jacob Lui Ini from Fial, Hereditary Hunter… Namchendra from Polar planet, Hereditary Hunter… The rest are also Hereditary… Pike from Eldorado… Archipov, Magellanic Clouds, Maketo World, and Auchuni High Branch from the same planet… Kaleb, this one is from Earth…”

“Earth?” Arigato stood up looking at the screen. “Forty-two, has not been reversed yet, the list of trophies is impressive… This one will do, sion Curator.”

“Why?”

“I have never met a man from Earth, and their settlers are our ancestors like Avall’tagrim and people from Ophira… I’m curious to look at him!”

“And if we speak seriously, my friend?”

“He is young,” Arigato Oye explained. “The rest from that list were reversed and several times, and that as you know makes the mind unstable for some time until the hormone balance normalizes. You and I remember what it feels like… a quick jump back to youth has its side effects…” Arigato sighed, remembered Diane Khan again and added, “And there is another point: he is young, but he is already one of the first ten. This is a definite acknowledgement of his experience and luck.”

“Take him if you wish,” Seymour Tya said. “Who else do you need? I mean professionals.”

“My two assistants, anthropologist and xenobiologist, both from the Scientific Division of the Archives.”

“Will that be enough?”

“Yes. Less people, less risk. As far as I understand, the savages are bloodthirsty… This is the main problem, but we’ll do the work.” Arigato Oye again touched the rim of his glass with his nail, bent his head and enjoyed the silvery jingling. Then he asked, “How much will I get, sion Curator? First of all I’m interested in ships.”

“You’ll have the expeditionary ship with an experienced Captain at your disposal. It’s now being prepared on the Second Moon. Its range is practically unlimited. With modified robots on board.”

“What kind of ship? Yacht? Sloop?”

“Corvette. The ship is armed and controlled by an intellectual-and-electronic module. A fairly clever device.”

“What else?”

“Inter-galactic transport-automation for transporting reagents. You can take as much cargo as you want.”

“I’ll need a very powerful synthesizer, preferably of the planetary class,” Dr Arigato Oye said. “The reason of the catastrophe is unknown and we have to be ready for everything. I’ll take a wide range of reagents protecting from irradiation injuries and hazardous additions to the atmosphere – we’ll even be able to sanitize it completely. But if some pathogenic microorganisms are at fault, we’ll have to look for some drug to treat people and then arrange its production in very big amounts. The Borgians are not fully humans… they have different genetics, different metabolism… I am not sure that the reagents we use in such cases will suit them, they may turn out to be a deadly poison. You see, sion, already at the blastula stage, all organisms are very sensitive to…”

Seymour Tya waved his hands.

“Spare me the details I don’t understand. You need a synthesizer? You’ll get it. If you need imperishable relics of our ancestors from Earth, I’ll find them in the storeroom and you’ll get them as well. All your requirements will be satisfied.”

“But the priest will go with me, won’t he?” Arigato Oye smiled.

“Alas…” the Curator sighed.

“Then find this Kaleb for me, the Hunter from Earth,” Dr Arigato stood up. “My assistants and I will be ready in about twenty days. See you, sion Curator. Let the day sun warm you and the night sun bring you peace and quiet.”

* * *

Some time later he was floating in the half-darkness and silence above the lilac ocean. Strips of light from the moons and the night sun shimmered on the water surface, the one from the sun was brighter and wider, and Arigato Oye could discern foamy waves, sea flowers evenly rolling below and groups of water lizards feeding nearby. The light airplane was flying low, its crescent-shaped wings trembled in the air flows rising from the ocean, infinite clouds stretched above. There was another continent beyond the sea, it was as beautiful as the one in the east and also the land of plenty, the cradle of the old Avall’tagrim civilization. Many years ago millions of colonists from Earth and Ophira had absorbed this nation, it had been diluted in the boiling kettle of the inter-race cross-breeding, but there were still children born on Avalon with enormous amber-coloured eyes. Diane was one of them… the Doctor thought. D’Anat’Khani, “Gift of the Southern Wind” in the half-forgotten Avall’tagrim language. With shining amber-coloured eyes, hair in which dark stands were mixed with fair strands and lips reminding red tulip petals…

He sighed. The bitterness of loss was oppressive. Certainly, the loss was not final, but he still hadn’t managed to restore her, though he made a lot of efforts. It could not be ruled out that the expedition would add some warmth to his family life… New impressions, the new world beyond the Edge of Disintegration, so far that there was not a single telescope able to show even the Galaxy of Borgians… Wonderful creatures living three hundred years with no reversion, whose world it was necessary to save from some unknown threat… However, they had not treated the crew that had found Borg well – probably there had been some mistake made, so only one of the contactors had returned and with the damaged mind. What had been the reason of the tragedy? Records made by the ship did not explain that, and Arigato Oye regretted that he could not speak to the xenologist from the first expedition. He was dead, irreversibly dead, his mind could not be restored.

The world nearing a catastrophe, long life of its inhabitants, strange death of the contactors who landed on Borg… All that is very mysterious, mysterious and romantic, Arigato Oye decided. She should be grateful that I am taking her with me.

Obeying a sudden impulse, he raised the light airplane into the clouds. Now the transparent cabin was surrounded by mist pierced with either pink or golden light, its currents slowly circled and fluttered like female hair in the wind, and it seemed to the Doctor that he sensed the head-spinning smell, the mixture of wonderful aromas, young girl’s flesh, sea and flowers. That was a pleasure, but he did not allow himself to relax. Travelling over Galaxies, he saw a lot of worlds, and not so happy as Avalon, and memories of them served as a good antidote against sweet contentment and empty dreams. He ordered himself to forget Diane Khan, her hair, lips and slim body, which had been so obedient, trembling in his arms. His thoughts turned to the adept thrust on the expedition and sudden activities of the Monasteries.

But why sudden?… If he thought about it, the reaction was fairly expected when the main symbol of the confession was under a threat. That’s the difference between religion and positive knowledge, Arigato Oye thought: a crash of postulates was a universal catastrophe for religion, and science was enthusiastic about revolutionary changes. The new picture of the world, new discoveries, new goals, new opportunities… Eternal renewal – that was the guarantee of progress, civilization’s driver! Certainly, any revolution was a shock, but after the catharsis you understood that a new step was made in the direction of truth. Religion was not adjusted for such metamorphoses. The truth in any religious doctrine was absolute and unchanging, no one looked for the truth as it was clear: their God was the truth.

There was a time when the collision of two Clark bosons generated the Big Universe. On the one hand, it was a fact established by science, the basis of all astrophysical theories, on the other hand, it was a reason to idolize and worship bosons, the act of creation, formation of galaxies, stars, planets and life that originated in many worlds. After the collision, the primary matter disintegrated, amorphous masses, the future conglomerates, flew in all directions and in billions of years the Universe was structured and became that very Universe comprehended by human minds: numerous galaxies within the borders of the Disintegration. It was thought that this structure was one whole and locked in oneself in some dimension of the continuum; it was not ruled out that there was a mirror image of it somewhere, an anti-world connected with the Universe by the points of singularity, where gravitation collapse took place. Its borders were more likely imaginary than a real border in space – it seemed naïve to think up some surface separating the Great Nothing from billions of Galaxies pierced by irradiation and light, full of mists and stars. Nevertheless, the shape of the Universe and its borders were the subject of research and infinite discussions, though everyone recognized that the Universe was one whole. The common generic code of all human races confirmed this fact, and these races originated independently in various ends of the Great Universe, sometimes in millions of light years from one another. There was no doubt that life spores, its seeds appeared at the moment of the bosons’ collision, later they fell down on planets and if the environment was suitable, they launched the evolution. All that could be considered a blind play of the forces of nature, an accident, a natural spontaneous phenomenon or an act of the Creator, Absolute Power making the bosons collide or, possibly, inalienably connected with them. These two ideas of the world, two philosophies that generated science and religion of the Galaxies contradicted each other but agreed that the universal act of creation was single like the God Creator.

Single! One!.. Arigato Oye laughed looking at the silver ray of the First Moon piercing the clouds illuminated by the night sun. One?… But here was another mankind found in very far-off places that originated differently, not like in the Galaxies, with different genetics and lifespan, even looking differently… What did it mean? It would be wisest to think that Borgians lived beyond the Edge of Disintegration, in another star conglomerate where they had their own act of creation that generated life seeds of a somewhat different nature. That could be a different Universe or the same, and only its borders should be expanded, but it was necessary to acknowledge that the collision of Clark bosons was not a unique act, it had not happened only once and generated only a part of the Universe. There was no doubt that it was a new concept for astrophysicists, but they would manage! They would grind the new knowledge by the grindstones of mathematics and say: Here is the Truth for you! It would be more difficult for the Monasteries as no symbol of any belief allowed specifying and restorations. Two Holy Bosons created the world… And what if there were four and not two?… Or infinite numbers?… And a deity in each of them?… Or may be just a particle of God?…