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burned now, because the Holyfolk took them for works of their demons." The
catch in his voice was almost a sob. "I never never had a chance."
"I think your space friends let you down." Diego frowned at the jungle-grown
ruins around them and the empty slopes of Kilimanjaro slanting away into misty
distance. "If they're so wonderful and great, why don't they show themselves?
Show their power? Instead of sending only you?"
"They never sent me." Old Jomo sank into himself, thin-haired head sagging
into his lean black hands. "They just let me come."
Waiting, Diego brushed at an ant exploring his knee, and brushed again when it
came back.
"To them, it's a sort of test." Jomo caught a raspy breath and raised his
gnarly head. "To see if we've evolved far enough to join them. They don't want
us till we are. They're patient. They don't care if we take another million
years, but I came back because I hoped our time was now."
Tight lips quivering, Jomo blinked his bleary eyes.
Page 14
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5
The Hydran Style
Edward Gibbon Beta was a big, fat, pink, jolly fellow with a queer sense of
what he thought was humor. The translators called his people Hydrans, because
their section of the halo was toward the Hydra constellation when you looked
from Cluster One. Benn had known him nearly all his life, because he had
always been Quin's best eldren friend. He was a historian studying Earth,
which he called Terra. An odd profession, Benn thought, because he had never
been there.
He had been watching, however, from the core-star obser-vatory, down closer to
the Sun, for several human lifetimes. He had known the unlucky Captain Bela
Zar and Spica's unlucky crew. He had studied artifacts from the ship and every
other relic of Earth that came to his lab.
"And he studies us," Quin said, once when they were fixing up a habitat tank
to be his own study. Benn had been excited to see his new computer, but he
stopped to stare at Quin.
"Like bugs?" He squirmed away from the notion. "Under a lens?"
"Not exactly. He just wants to know everything about us. And he likes a lot of
what he knows. Many of the eldren don't think we're ready for the halo, but he
sees promise in us."
"Friday doesn't." Benn had sent the robot up to the shop to assemble his new
desk. "He doesn't think they'll ever let us stay here."
"Friday doesn't think." His father frowned. "All he knows is his programs.
They were mostly written down at core-star to teach the Spica crew."
"He says we'll never fly like the eldren."
"Maybe not." His father shrugged as if that didn't really matter, though to
Benn it did. "But we do have those new thrust-ers for our space gear. Our
problem is to learn the eldren way."
"Can we?" He watched his father's face. "Really? Friday says nanionic flight
is easy for any eldren infant, and then he says it's impossible for me."
"Forget Friday," his father said. "Gibbon is a better model. Learn the Hydran
lifestyle. The Hydrans have been here a long time, in peace among themselves
and with everybody else. They seem content. Learn their style."
"Gibbon's?" Benn shook his head. "We'll never be Hydrans."
"They are different." His father nodded soberly. "They do have the Hydran
shape and Hydran gifts. They don't marry. They don't die. Instead, a grown-up
Hydran can split into two children."
The Hydran style looked as impossible as nanionic flying. He said no more
about it, but Gibbon began coming to tutor him. Only now and then at first,
because he was so busy. Di-rector of Terran research at the new core-star
station, he also taught seminars at the great Hydran university and sometimes
advised the Eldermost.
Gibbon had a clone-twin brother, born with him when their parent fissioned.
His translator name was Galileo Beta. A sci-entist out at Starsearch Station
on the fringe of the halo, he was a sort of ambassador to other stars. He sent
laser signals and nanionic signals and listened for messages from anywhere,
searching for other civilizations fit to join the Elderhood.
"Are we fit?" Always uneasy about that, Benn frowned un-easily at Gibbon.
"Friday says we aren't."
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