EXTRACT FOR
The Stars Are Ours: Part 1 - Emergence
(Author Unknown)

Prologue

    

    On a warm afternoon in late spring, the city of Alda Mexa basked peacefully in the sun.  The Lyricon was all but deserted, many people having decamped to Lake Holpen or the Tyvian Gardens;  but on the stage, three small children were performing an impromptu play.  Laura and Nefyrra, seated nearby, looked on indulgently as the action proceeded.

    The play had been Clemis' idea.  Her method of improvisation - since her telepathic abilities were not yet reliable - was to whisper lines to her fellow actors, who would then say them aloud.  Nefyrra's son Trevone, placid and obliging, followed these instructions to the letter.  Kalyx, half a year older, tended to be less amenable, as befitted the son of First Citizen Tralvar.

    Clemis, all blonde hair and dimples, continued her story - or rather, Laura's.  Her little dramas were invariably centred around her adoptive mother.  Laura wasn't too happy about the fascination her life held for Clemis, but there wasn't a lot she could do about it.

    "At least they've quietened down a bit," Nefyrra remarked.

    "Thank goodness," answered Laura with a wry grin.  The previous act - Idenion rescuing Laura from a murderous Alendis - had consisted of screaming and little else.

    "While we're on Earth I shall practice my singing," announced Clemis, in character.  "Mmm...oooh...aaah...eee."  She copied Laura's facial exercises perfectly, but her attempt to sing was little more than a croak.  She hadn't yet learnt to be embarrassed about the vocal dysfunction which afflicted her entire race.

    "While I'm on Earth," said Trevone after a hasty prompt, "I shall talk to the animals and find a girl to take sciesha with."

    Nefyrra chuckled;  Laura frowned.  Was nothing in her past safe from her daughter?

    "Now, Kalyx, er, Tralvar," said Clemis importantly, "you're sad because Laura's gone, and you couldn't record her voice."  She whispered in his ear and Kalyx looked furious.

    "I'm not saying that!  My father's experiments don't fail."

    "This one did."

    "Didn't."

    "Did."

    "Didn't."

    "Did.  Laura, you tell him."

    "Sorry, little one.   I'm keeping out of this."

    From the custodian's apartment, far above the terraces but well within range of the Lyricon's acoustics, Tralvar surveyed the proceedings and sighed.  "See what I mean, Idenion?  Whenever my son and your daughter meet it ends in a sparring match."

    "Just like you and Laura of old," Idenion said lightly.

    "Ninfi wanted my advice," Tralvar went on.  "She says the boy's a poor scholar.  Can I help it if he was born with my good looks and her intellect?"

    Idenion hid a smile at Tralvar's caustic humour.  "Well, Ninfi's certainly to blame for this falling out.  Kalyx has absorbed her idealised view of you."

    "Then I suppose I'd better enlighten him," Tralvar said.  "Screen your perception.  I think I can reach him from here but it'll be uncomfortable at close quarters."

    "I'll warn Dena and our guest."  Idenion retreated from the balcony, leaving Tralvar to direct his thoughts at the distant stage.

    +Kalyx!  Be quiet and listen to your father+

    Awed, Kalyx paused in his tirade and peered upward.  +Yes, First Citizen?+

    +No need to be so formal.  Tralvar will do+

    +Yes, Tralvar?+

    +That's better.  I want you to apologise to Clemis, because she's quite right.  My early attempts to record sound were unsuccessful+

    "See?"  shrilled Clemis triumphantly, hands on hips.

    "I don't care," retorted Kalyx.  "It's a stupid play anyway.  I want to go home."

    "Don't sulk, little brother," admonished Nefyrra.  "Clemis invited you to join her game, so the least you can do is be polite to her."

    "I'll speak the line, Clemis!"  piped Trevone, ever the peacemaker.

    "Go on then," said Clemis dubiously.

    "My experiment has failed!"  Trevone announced with a broad smile.

    "That's not right," objected Clemis.  "You've spoilt it."  Her lip began to tremble.  "You've both spoilt it."

    "Oh, don't cry!"  said Kalyx irritably, worried that Tralvar would be angry with him.  "I'll say whatever you want.  Just stop crying, will you?"  Then, in a surprisingly resonant stage voice:  "My experiments have failed.  Why should I try again now Laura has gone and the voices of my people are silent?  What is music without song?  What shall I do, what shall I do?"  And he wept so convincingly that Laura nearly ran across to comfort him.

    "She'll come back, Kalyx," said Trevone anxiously.

    Tralvar, about to quit the balcony, witnessed the little soliloquy in some surprise.  "Well, what do you know?"  he murmured.  "Ninfi, I think our son's just found his vocation!"

    Laura was similarly impressed.  It was a remarkable piece of acting from a boy of seven.

    "He's only four," Nefyrra pointed out.

    "Sorry. I'm still converting their ages into Earth years," Laura confessed.  "It's the only way I can keep track of their development.  Trevone and Clemis are three and a half, but on Earth that's a pre-school age.  It's easier to think of them as six.  But on the other hand, I'd rather be twenty-one than thirty-five!"

    Clemis stood at centre stage, pouting.  She wasn't sure what Kalyx had done, but she did know she was no longer the centre of attention.  She was supposed to rush in at this point and present him, or rather Tralvar, with the solution to his problem; a gramograph or graphophone or whatever it was called.  But if he was going to show off, she wasn't about to encourage him.  The decision was taken out of her hands when a voice behind her suddenly said:

    "Hello!  What's all this then?"

    Kalyx bounded toward the newcomer.  "Uncle Lydion!"  he yelled delightedly.

    Lydion embraced his nephew warmly and ruffled his hair.  "I didn't expect to see you here, young man!"

    "I'm going to be an actor," Kalyx announced.  "I just played Tralvar.  You missed it."

    "I'm really sorry," said Lydion with sincerity.  "How about a repeat performance?  You could pretend to be me this time."

    Nefyrra glared.

    "On second thoughts," he amended, "perhaps you're a bit young for that."

    "Lydion!"  Clemis, determined not to be left out, tugged at his sleeve.

    "Hey, it's my best girl!"  Lydion swept Clemis off her feet and whirled her round in mid-air.  She shrieked with excitement.

    "Lydion, put her down," Laura said crossly.  "You'll get her all wound up and she won't want to sleep."

    Lydion obeyed with exaggerated care.  "Anything to please you, First Singer.  And now, might I ask why you and these delightful children are here?  Not planning a concert, surely, with half the scolia on a sabbatical?"

    "Tralvar's decided to step down as First Citizen," Laura explained.

    "Ah.  And how does Idenion feel about taking over?  Nervous?"

    "He's as ready as he'll ever be.  He wants to hold the inaugural ceremony here rather than the akron, so the pair of them are upstairs sorting it out.  It was Kalyx's day to visit, so Dena brought him too."

    "I didn't think they'd be as long as this," said Nefyrra with a glance toward the apartments.  "I'm thirsty."

    "Then why don't you and Laura go and join the meeting?"  Lydion asked.  "I'll keep these urchins company for a while.  Tell them a story maybe."

    The urchins chorused their approval.

    "Just don't give them nightmares," Nefyrra warned.

    When they reached the mezzanine stairway Laura looked back, perturbed by the unnatural hush.  Lydion was seated halfway up the first terrace, his voice inaudible save to his young audience.  The children were rapt and silent.

    "He's so fond of kids," Laura said softly.  "Such a pity he doesn't have any of his own."

    "It hasn't been for want of trying," Nefyrra observed coolly.  "But yes, it is a shame."

    Laura glanced back once more.  The sun's rays, increasingly golden as evening approached, burnished the weathered stone and cast a benign haze about the distant group.  For a moment she felt an inexplicable sadness.

    "They're growing so fast," Nefyrra murmured.

    But Laura's mind hadn't been on the children.  She was thinking of Lydion - lively, goodnatured Lydion, lover of women, brought low by his ill-considered romance with the elite-wife Tarlatine.  When the Narvellans, a reluctant Tarlatine among them, had left for an unknown destination, Lydion had been inconsolable.  Eventually he had bounced back - but not, many suspected, completely.  Idenion's Golden Girl sequence of poems, sensitively documenting the sad tale, had become an overnight success.  Most households in Alda Mexa had a copy.  Asked to comment, Lydion would merely smile and reiterate:  "Idenion tells it better than I do.  I'll let his words speak for me."  Which, since Lydion was a born raconteur, suggested to Laura that a line still had to be drawn under the affair.

    "Father!  There you are!"  Nefyrra stepped out of the elevator into her living quarters, Laura at her heels.  "What's been taking you so long?"

    "I'm afraid I'm responsible for the delay, Custodian."  A middle aged man rose to his feet apologetically.

    "Guildmaster Lann!  I thought you were in Tivenne."

    "Tralvar invited me here to discuss his musical requirements," explained Lann.

    "It's an important day," Dena put in.  "We need a good musical director - and who better than Melor's successor?"

    "There'll be plenty of music, but no poetry," Idenion added cheerfully.  "Tralvar will disown me if so much as one rhyming couplet makes an appearance!"

    "And it took you three ilden to decide that?"  inquired Nefyrra.

    "No, just a few astallen," said Tralvar, putting aside some paperwork he had been studying.  "You probably don't realise it, Nefyrra, but Lann and I have a lot in common.  I'm a scientist with designs on being a scolia master - not that I ever will be - and Lann's a scolia master with a natural aptitude for science."

    "I've always wished I could follow both careers," Lann admitted.  "When Tralvar sent for me, I took the opportunity to show him some of my work."

    "This essay on particle physics is brilliant," enthused Tralvar, waving the sheaf of papers at his daughter.  "It could have numerous applications.  I'll have to study it in depth."

    "What a strange coincidence," Nefyrra said, intrigued.  "Three of my leading players have just begged time off to attend a maths symposium."

    "And two of my dancers are obsessed with transposal theory," Dena added.

    "Why do you think it strange?"  asked Laura.  "There's always been a strong link between music and mathematics.  Not that I've any talent in that direction!"

    Nefyrra handed round some iced drinks.  "So when exactly is the big day, Idenion?"

    "We still haven't decided.  There are a few wrinkles to iron out first."

    "Such as?"

    "Oh, just details," said Idenion evasively.  "Tralvar will explain."  But Tralvar was once more in conversation with Lann, and Nefyrra's question went unanswered.

    Presently the gathering broke up.  Laura and Idenion returned to the akron with a tired and fractious Clemis;  Tralvar and Dena headed for their villa on Lateral Three, which Tralvar still preferred to the akron itself;  Nefyrra gave Trevone his supper, hoping that Jarras would be home in time to read to his son;  and Lydion obligingly took Kalyx back to Ninfi's house in the textile quarter.

    That evening, Tralvar couldn't relax.  He wandered in and out of his study and generally fidgeted about, until Dena said:

    "If it's worrying you that much, go and see her."

    "What, now?"

    "Why not?  Clemis will be asleep and Idenion will be in the library."

    Still Tralvar hesitated.  "What if she says no?"

    "Believe me, she won't," Dena assured him quietly.

    It was just starting to rain as Tralvar made the short ascent to the akron, but the path took him straight to a side entrance, and within two astallen he was outside the first floor apartment where Laura and Idenion currently lived.  He had once occupied these rooms himself, before the Narvellan coup.

    As Dena had surmised, Idenion was immersed in his studies.  Laura, however, was still in the nursery, soothing her tearful daughter back to sleep.  Tralvar quietly sat down and waited, recognising - with a degree of sadness - the lullaby she sang.  "Sleep, little one.  Sleep, little star."  She'd sung it to him once, after he'd nearly died at the hands of the Narvellans.

    Eventually, the song having done its work, Laura emerged.  She wasn't surprised to see him.  "Remind me to give Lydion a clip round the ear," she said with the hint of a smile.

    "What's he done this time?"

    "Told our kids some horror story about a sea monster.  Clemis dreamt it was under the bed."

    "Lydion hasn't the sense he was born with," remarked Tralvar.  He wasn't smiling.

    Laura led the way back to the reception room and poured herself some wine.  "Resnay?"  she asked.

    "Please.  You know how Dena rations it."

    She handed him a measure of the strong liquor.  "And now, why are you here?  Something to do with this afternoon?"

    "Astute as always, Laura.  Idenion asked me to speak to you about his forthcoming appointment.  He didn't ask me to do it tonight, but it's too important to put off."  He downed the resnay in one swallow, then continued:  "Idenion says he can't handle the First Citizenship alone.  He wants you to rule with him."

    "As his partner in unity.  Of course."

    "As joint First Citizen, with all the authority vested in the title."

    Laura stared.  "But I'm not even Celestrian!"

    "You'll do."

    "But...."  Laura twisted her hands together indecisively.  "Is there a precedent for this?  A husband and wife team in charge?"

    "The last time was about four hundred years ago."

    "Oh, well, that's all right then," said Laura with a nervous laugh.  "I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound facetious.  But I don't know how to answer you.  I really don't."

    Tralvar took her troubled hands in a firm, warm grip.  "For what it's worth," he said, "I think this is the best decision that Idenion's ever made - which is why I volunteered to speak for him.  Will you do it?"

    She hesitated, then acquiesced.  "I don't have much choice, do I?  I always knew he'd need me at his side.  Go ahead, make it official. With one proviso."

    Tralvar released her with some reluctance.  "Which is?"

    "My full commitment mustn't start until Clemis is older.  First and foremost, I'm a mother.  I'm sure you understand."

    "Of course."  Tralvar's smile was tired but grateful.  "I'll have the documents drawn up.  We'll need to consult the histories..."  Then he paused, startled.

    "If Idenion's hiding behind the door, tell him he can come out now," Laura suggested.

    "It isn't Idenion," Tralvar said slowly.  "It's Jarras.  He's on his way up, and he's in a panic."

    Almost before he'd finished speaking, Jarras burst into the apartment.  

    "Shh!"  Laura hissed angrily.  "You'll wake Clemis."

    "Your pardon, Laura, but this is an emergency."  Jarras turned breathlessly to Tralvar.  "I've a flitter waiting to take you to Communications.  Axmiol's on the transposer.  He says he doesn't have much time and insists on speaking to you and only you."

    "Do any relayists know of this?"

    "None:  I followed your orders.  No relayists, no radio.  But Dena knows, of course.  I went there first."

    Laura looked from one to the other in bewilderment.  "Orders?  What orders?  The Narvellans vowed they'd never contact us again!"

    "I never quite believed that."  Tralvar suddenly seemed to have aged.  "Come with us, Laura.  I'd value your presence."

    "I can't leave Clemis."

    "Idenion can look after her, can't he?"

    "Tralvar, we don't have time for this!"  Jarras protested.

    "He's right," said Laura calmly.  "Find out what Axmiol wants, then if you still need my advice, get it later.  Though if the Narvellans are in trouble again, I don't see what they expect us to do about it."

    "Do you think Axmiol needs our help?"  inquired Tralvar as he and Jarras hurried downstairs.

    "No," Jarras said reluctantly.  "I think he wants to warn us about something."

    It wasn't the answer Tralvar wanted.  But it was the one he'd expected.  It was now completely dark.  Just as they landed at the spaceport the rain intensified;  subdued thunder rumbled in the distance.  The lift crawled toward the top of the communications tower and Tralvar swore at the delay.

    "Chaos, this place needs an overhaul!  If we've lost that signal - "

    "We won't have," Jarras reassured him.  "I've got it pegged through all three manifolds."

    "Ingenious.  I'm glad it was your shift."

    "One astal more and it wouldn't have been.  I was just about to hand everything over to Treva Control and go home."

    "Is no one on duty tonight?"  asked Tralvar, faintly scandalised.

    "Discords, no!  You're out of touch, Tralvar - we haven't done that in years.  Treva's the only place to keep a continuous watch."  Jarras stepped out of the elevator and went briskly to the transposer panel.  "The link's holding.  No visuals though.  He's a long, long way off."

    Tralvar sat down, clearing his throat.  "All right, Axmiol, talk to me.  What's happening?"

    "Tralvar, at last.  What took you so long?  Now listen very carefully:  time's running out and I may not be able to repeat this."

    "Time's running out?  What do you mean?"  began Tralvar.  "Where are you?"

    "My co-ordinates are on the data stream.  Please don't interrupt, First Citizen.  I'll tell you everything you need to know."  Axmiol sounded defeated, exhausted.  Tralvar wondered how long he'd been calling before Jarras picked up the fragile transmission.

    "Our landfall wasn't a success," the weary voice continued.  "We had several crop failures and numerous deaths from an indigenous disease.  By ballot we decided to relocate, and sent out scouting parties to find a more hospitable world.  They found three possibles, but after one bad decision I was unwilling to give the casting vote.  Sijek and I continued the search, venturing ever further from the existing colony.

    "On one such trip we detected a stardrive signature.  We immediately assumed it was one of our lost spheres and tracked it to an inhabited planet - the first humanoid civilisation we'd seen.  The people were technologically advanced, with interplanetary travel, as evidenced by settlements throughout their solar system.  Seeing no further trace of the sphere, we decided to make contact."

    Tralvar bit back an angry cry.

    "I know, Tralvar.  You cautioned us - you told us never to do anything like that - and we didn't listen.  My only concern was for our colonists."

    "Did you find them?"  Tralvar forced himself to be calm.

    "No.  They were long dead, their sphere dismantled and studied.  What we'd seen was a prototype transposal drive without a system of navigation or communication:  in short, without working crystals.  When we appeared, the order went out to secure our crystals at all costs."

    Tralvar listened numbly.  This was worse, far worse than he'd imagined.

    Axmiol detailed his plight in a few terse sentences.  "We're the unwilling guests of the Eldorian Empire, a military dictatorship. We were duped by a reception committee who really believed their government was offering us shelter and supplies.  The double deception soon revealed itself but it was already too late to run. We were seized, ridiculed and imprisoned."

    "How did you get out?"  Tralvar heard himself ask.

    Axmiol gave a dry chuckle.  "Have you forgotten the power of the Narvellan mind?  These people are nonconversants. Their minds are exposed and vulnerable.  But I can only target individuals, and the Eldorians know my limits now."

    Jarras gave Tralvar a nudge.  "Ask him again what he means about lack of time."

    Axmiol overheard.  "Quite simply, Jarras, I'm cornered.  I'm trapped in my spacecraft, which is underground and surrounded by armed men.  A decryption team is working on the locking code.  Sijek is still a prisoner.  

    "My escape was necessary for two reasons:  to alert you, and to warn the colony.  I've already spoken to Bydlor and told him to choose one of the shortlisted planets, move everyone without delay and torch everything when he leaves.  A hasty solution, but it should serve.  I carry no co-ordinates for the new worlds."

    Tralvar regained some presence of mind.  "What armaments do the Eldorians have?"

    "Projectile weapons, beam weapons, bombs.  No nuclear capability, though it's often talked about.  They've just had a civil war, with no real victors.  It keeps the arms industry buoyant."  A muffled impact sounded in the background.  Axmiol hesitated, then went on more rapidly:  "The danger to you is more specific than you yet realise.  The Eldorians gleaned significant intelligence from the crew of the first sphere.  They know about the solar flares and our refugee status, and they've heard stories of a peaceful planet dispensing scientific knowledge.  A planet called Celestra.

    "They know we obtained our spheres from you and they intend to find you.  Celestra's location was expunged from our databases long ago, but that will only delay them, not deter them."

    "You cannot allow yourself to be taken alive, Axmiol."  Tralvar's voice was clear and cold.

    "I can't abandon Sijek."

    "For pity's sake, Axmiol, think of us!  You know so much about us.  If you're recaptured they'll torture Sijek to get information out of you!"

    "You wish me to take my own life?"  Axmiol inquired without rancour.

    "You must."

    There was an agonised silence.  "I won't do it, Tralvar," the Narvellan said at last.  "Sijek is my lifebonded.  He's terrified and he needs me."

    "Then we're all dead," Tralvar declared.

    "Before they break in," Axmiol went on as though he hadn't heard, "I'm going to do as much damage as I can, starting with this transposer.  That's one piece of technology they shan't have yet.  Prepare yourselves!  With luck, you'll have years.  Tralvar, Jarras, I'm sorry.  I'm so very very sorry..."

    "He's offline," said Jarras, powering down the array.

    Tralvar leant his forehead on the console.  He was perspiring and shivering at the same time.  "Am I never to have any rest?" he muttered.

    "I should get you home.  You're ill."

    "Nothing that a few shots of resnay won't cure."  Tralvar straightened up with an effort.  "What's the status of our deep space scanners?"

    "Alda Mexa, Treva, Kest and Alcine are fully operational.  Corayn and Ninka are out of service and we're having some trouble with the automated station on Alda Six."

    "Then send someone to repair it.  And I want all our bases continuously manned from now on.  If anything larger than a pebble enters our solar system I want to hear about it."

    "Aren't you forgetting something?"  asked Jarras.

    "What?"

    "You won't be in charge.  Laura and Idenion will."

    "Oh, chaos!"  Tralvar ran his fingers though his greying hair.  "I'll have to let the inauguration go ahead or they'll assume I don't trust them."

    "And do you?"

    "I trust them to do their best, which isn't the same thing.  Idenion has all the makings of a good peacetime ruler, but he'll be out of his depth in this situation.  And Laura's life revolves around her little girl.  I can stay in command long enough to set up the early warning system, but after that..."  He shrugged.

    "Tell me how I can help," said Jarras impulsively.

    "Discords, Jarras, give me time to take this in!"  Tralvar pushed himself to his feet.  "I need a couple of days to outline some kind of strategy.  At the moment, there's nothing constructive either of us can..."  Then he paused, inspired.  "On second thoughts, there is something.  Tomorrow we'll go on a little trip to Tivenne.  We've matters to discuss with Guildmaster Lann."

    "What has the scolia to do with this?"  Jarras asked, bewildered.

    Tralvar didn't answer.  He was gazing from the observation window into the rain-lashed night.  "Do you believe in the cosmic balance?"  he inquired unexpectedly.  

    Jarras was taken aback.  "I suppose so."

    "Our ancestors' directive was that no species should be given transposal if they hadn't found it for themselves.  We thought we knew better and gave it to the Narvellans, who allowed it to be stolen.  Result:  a greedy and corrupt empire will soon have the freedom of the galaxy.  It's a chain reaction, Jarras, and we're responsible."

    "What can we do?"  asked Jarras helplessly.

    "Find a way to defeat them.  I don't know how, or with what, but we must be ready for them when they get here."  He glanced back at the silent transposer unit.  "Axmiol thinks we'll have years.  For all our sakes, I hope he's right."