There was a man named Daniel Leary. The Tree was aware of him as it was aware of all the many billions of his species on many thousands of worlds.
The Tree knew.
Gas expanded and coalesced, forming suns and planets. The Tree was present because the mind of the Tree was omnipresent.
Slime formed in the warm seas of Earth and of innumerable other planets. It lived for a time, but as it started to spread vulcanism burned it back into its constituent elements. Life arose again, and this time a rain of cometary debris scoured the world clean. A third time, a fourth time, disaster following disaster; but eventually on Earth and many other worlds life survived. It covered the surface, then stepped across the reaches of space to other suitable environments.
Occasionally life form met life form. Interspecies conflict was rare because the needs and desires of alien races differed too greatly. Within species, however, rapid expansion gave opportunities for terrible wars and sometimes extinction when the extremities rebounded against themselves and the center.
Humanity avoided final oblivion, but by no more than a razor's edge. The thousand-year Hiatus from star travel could easily have become the eternal eclipse of the human race.
The Tree knew all things, but it cared about nothing.
Human fleets sailed between stars, threading in and out through the bubbles of the Matrix but returning to the sidereal universe except when catastrophe overtook them. The man named Daniel Leary had a feel for the Matrix, its currents and its pressures; but the Tree was the Matrix and all other existence, then and now and tomorrow.
On the planet men called New Delphi humans searched and struggled, their minds seething with anger and despair. The man named Daniel Leary felt their pain and would have washed it away had he been able to; but Daniel Leary no longer existed save as an idea in the Tree's awareness, the equivalent of the warmth of sun on leaves or the wind's eternal pressure on the multi-stemmed trunk.
A human asked a question; and the Tree knew. . . .
Adele awoke, momentarily angry that she'd been asleep. She jerked upright, rousing the spacers guarding her to full alertness. The watch had changed while she slept, but Hilbride slept curled on the floor at her feet.
The high-intensity lights in the stacks switched themselves on when a human being walked near, but they were all off now. Adele had been slumped over the console she was using, blurring the screen because her head lay over some of the holographic projectors.
Grimacing at her own weakness, she looked around. Tovera nodded with the slight smile she generally wore; the expression had as little humor in it as the similar curve of a cobra's lipless mouth. "Good morning, mistress," she said. "It's oh-six-fourteen by the ship's time."
"Have you gotten any sleep?" Adele said.
Tovera shrugged, her smile minusculely broader. "Enough," she replied; which didn't answer the question question Adele asked but was responsive nonetheless. "I can function."
Tovera could function in any condition short of death, Adele presumed; and whatever killed her, as something doubtless would one day, had better not count her out for the sixty seconds or so a human brain retained enough oxygen to function.
Adele stood, noting the enormous clutter of books blocking access to several of the nearer consoles. An acolyte—the same man she'd noticed before—sat at the far end of the rank; he felt her eyes on him and turned to nod, then resumed his work.
Good God but she'd made a mess! And she wasn't any closer to finding Daniel than she'd been at the beginning of the night. Well, she wasn't dead yet, either.
Woetjans rose; she'd been sitting on a stack of books down the aisle. Adele winced when she saw the bosun's choice of a seat, but she didn't comment.
"Mistress," Woetjans said with a nod. The big woman looked a decade older than she had when the Princess Cecile landed. "I've been wondering what we do if, you know, he doesn't turn up."
The guards watched Adele in intent silence. Hilbride had awakened; he was poised to get up from the floor, but he didn't move while he waited for her answer.
"You go on, bosun," Adele said crisply. "As your duty requires. As you know."
But that didn't answer what Signals Officer Mundy would do. Adele wasn't sure of that answer herself. It was unlikely that her presence on New Delphi over the next years or decades would locate Daniel; but perhaps it would make a difference . . . and perhaps that was the decision she'd make.
For now, though, there were more volumes to examine, at least a thousand of them. She looked at the jumble of books she'd been through—carefully enough? Had a crucial paragraph escaped in her haste and fatigue?—and thought of the many-times greater task still ahead. She sighed, stretched, and prepared to return to it.
The Prior entered the chamber accompanied by Valentina, half a dozen acolytes, and a pair of spacers. They walked toward the couch, hidden behind drapes made by hanging gray robes from a frame of plastic piping. The spacers guarding Count Klimov watched with grim expressions.
"Let's join them," Adele said. There were grunts of pleased agreement from the Sissies about her. An oracle was a novelty in itself. Even if they were convinced of the need to stand guard the way they'd been doing, it was numbingly boring work.
Adele had another reason for her decision. If the Count had gotten the answer to his question, he'd probably want to leave New Delphi immediately. She needed to be present to represent the Sissies, and to represent herself.
The Prior was waiting; the girl Margarida supported his arm. He bowed to Adele, then pulled open the screen with his free hand; other acolytes set to removing the structure completely. Valentina walked to where her husband lay, sleeping with his mouth part open. Adele could hear the Count snoring softly.
"Speak quietly," the Prior directed her. "You can touch him, but do so gently."
"Georgi?" Valentina said. She bent over the couch and took the Count's hands in hers, chafing them lightly. "Wake up, dear one. It's morning."
The Count opened his eyes. He started to lift his torso. His wife put her arm around him to help, but he seemed fit enough.
"I dreamed," he said in a tone of bright wonder. "I remember. The Institutions, Book Ten, Caput Three. But I don't know what it means."
"It's a book citation," Adele said. She stepped back to the console; she'd downloaded the index files to her handheld, but at the moment it was simpler to use the console already displaying the data rather than sitting on the floor with the little unit on her lap.
She scrolled, searched, and repeated the search. Twelve hits, titles including the word Institutions, and none of them likely to have any bearing on the Earth Diamond.
She looked at the Prior; he'd almost fallen when the Count spoke. Margarida was supporting his whole weight with an expression of terror.
"Sir," Adele said. "Where are The Institutions shelved?"
Her voice wasn't loud, no louder than the snick of the folding knife opening in Hogg's hand. He'd come in a moment ago, haggard from a day and night of searching on his own. Windblown grit clung to his hair and clothing.
"Mistress . . . ," the Prior said. His face was waxen. He nodded toward the Count but he didn't take his eyes from Adele. "Your excellency. There's been a mistake, I don't know how. We will refund your fee immediately, Count Klimov—"
"Where's the book, you fat whoreson!" Hogg shouted, grabbing the Prior's fine white hair and tilting his head slightly so that the point of the knife just pricked his throat beside a carotid artery.
Margarida screamed and tried to claw Hogg's eyes. Tovera—how had she moved so quickly?—clubbed the butt of her sub-machine gun across the girl's temple, dropping her where she stood. As if that were a signal, Sissies grabbed or knocked down the other acolytes present.
The man at the end console rose and started to run toward a doorway across the chamber. A spacer fired his stocked impeller, missing the fellow but blowing his console apart in a crash and shower of sparks. The running man screamed and threw himself to the floor.
"Cease fire!" Adele ordered, her ears ringing from the Whack! of the powerful weapon discharging in an enclosed space. Her own pistol was in her hand, pointing toward the ceiling till she had a better target. "You! Prior! Where are The Institutions?"
"I can't!" the Prior said, dangling from Hogg's grip in obvious pain and terror. "Only senior acolytes are permitted to read it, please!"
Hogg threw the man to the floor and squatted astride him. "I'll get it out of him, mistress," he said in a guttural voice. "You maybe want to look away for a bit."
"No," Adele said; and then, because Hogg had shifted his knife to the Prior's left eye, "No, Hogg! Not unless I can't find it myself!"
Until she spoke, she didn't have the faintest notion of how to make a quick search for a book not in the computerized index. Then, as the words came out, she did.
She sat down at the console. It used a virtual keyboard and light pen, familiar and adequate input devices if not the system Adele preferred. She called up the index by stack, then switched to graphical display and sorted each stack by number in groups of ten. By the time the first stack had run—ending in a group of seven titles, indexed from one to seven in sequence—she'd programmed the console to scroll through the remainder of the collection in order, allowing five seconds for each stack.
"Ma'am?" Hogg said. He sounded frightened, but he'd stepped away from the Prior and closed his knife again. Adele could see him from the corners of her eyes, but she kept her focus on the display.
"Give me five minutes, Hogg," Adele said. She understood how the servant felt, angry and desperate for something to do; ideally something that would help Daniel, but anyway something. "Maybe ten. You wouldn't learn anything faster than that your way, nothing you could be certain of."
Hogg grunted, but he didn't openly object. Two spacers held the Prior's arms; another stood with the muzzle of his impeller in the face of the girl still unconscious and drooling on the floor.
Rows of equal columns scrolled, paused, and vanished for the next stackful. Adele did believe in her way over Hogg's; but she knew Hogg's would work. The Prior—old and frail—might die before pain drove the words out, but there were plenty of younger, stronger acolytes. One of them would talk.
But Daniel wouldn't have wanted that. Oh, he'd have used torture if the safety of the Republic or his crew depended on it, but it would bother him; and it would bother him worse to know that an old man had died for him, that a pretty girl was now blind because for Daniel's sake battery acid had been dripped into her eyes.
Adele smiled faintly. If her method failed and she turned the business over to Hogg, she'd lie to Daniel about what had happened. That'd be easy enough; and what were a few eyeless faces to Adele Mundy, whose dreams already had so many visitors whom her shots had mutilated?
"I knew we could count on you, ma'am," Hogg said, his voice calm again. "You'd never let the young master down."
He must have misinterpreted my smile, Adele thought. Then she thought, Or perhaps he didn't.
With that realization came the break, the rows of titles with one column shorter by a tenth than the rest. Adele froze the display, then said, "Stack Eighty-Seven, Title Forty . . . Two. Between Pre-Hiatus Serials Catalogued at Las Primas Base, and A History of My Times, by Vice-Admiral Beverly Coyne."
Hilbride, his sub-machine gun forgotten on a pile of culled volumes, started into the stacks. Woetjans would've joined him. If the bosun went, half the scores of Sissies in the chamber would've followed. Adele ordered, "Leave him be! Hilbride will get it."
All this needed was half a dozen semi-literates shredding the book in their struggle to be the one who brought it to her. . . .
To give the others something to occupy them, and partly because she was human and proud of what she'd accomplished, Adele went on conversationally, "We saw no books elsewhere in the monastery. Anything we did find would stick out like a sore thumb. Therefore the best place to hide a book is here in the library, a needle among a hundred thirty thousand other needles . . . but left out of the index."
She grinned with pride and satisfaction; Hilbride was coming back with a fat quarto volume held in both hands. "So I searched for a hole in the index. And found one."
"Here, mistress!" Hilbride said, handing Adele the book with the pride of a cat presenting its owner with a dead mouse. "What do we do now?"
Adele opened the volume with the care it deserved. It was covered with the same translucent vellum that had been used to rebind many of the other books in the collection. In this case the binding was probably original, and the work itself was a manuscript indited in a clear, bold hand that managed to be graceful without becoming ornate. She opened it, starting a quarter in from the back.
"I don't understand what this is about," the Klimovna said. "Georgi, it was the Earth Diamond you were seeking, was it not? Not Captain Leary."
Not the most politic thing to say in the present circumstances, Adele thought, but she continued paging forward in silence. With luck none of the Sissies would pick up on the remark.
"The Earth Diamond, of course," the Count said, frowning. "But I don't understand what the oracle meant. Surely the book is old, older than the time John Tsetzes fled with the diamond?"
"All I know . . . ," said Hogg. He'd walked away from Adele and stood looking down at the Prior's anguished face. "Is that this bird wouldn't be near so worried about the mistress reading his book if he didn't have something to hide. And the only thing we know is hidden around here is the master."
"The Institutions, the codex itself," said the Prior dully, "is almost three thousand years old. It's the bedrock of our Service, written by Senior Scientist Arlan Melzoff himself. Mistress Mundy, it is a sacred document. You must see that."
"Well, I tell you," Hogg said. "If the mistress don't find where the young master is by reading that thing, then I'm going to flay you alive and your friends can write another book on your skin. That may not find him either, but I'll feel better for doing it; and right now I got a ways better to feel."
"Amen to that," said Woetjans soberly.
" 'We began the shaft in the Sanctum,' " Adele said, reading aloud as soon as she found the passage Klimov had cited on his return to consciousness. " 'At first we used power tools, but some held doubts about their propriety. The Tree spoke through the majority of the order, so in accordance with the vote, the remainder of the shaft was dug by hand. At a depth of 512 feet the diggers entered the chamber in which as foretold subsidence had laid open the mind of the Tree.' "
She looked up without closing the book. She said, "The area marked as the Sanctum on the earliest maps is some three hundred yards northwest of here; that is, toward the decayed center of the Tree. Woetjans, I think we'll need digging equipment as well as cutting bars to remove wood that's in our way."
"Wait," said the Prior, spread-eagled on the floor. "I'll take you. And you'll want a quantity of saline solution as well."
"No!" cried Margarida, her right hand dabbing at the pressure cut on her scalp. "You mustn't—"
Hogg bent toward her, his blade bare in his hand. His face showed no more emotion than if he were preparing to wring the neck of a small animal for dinner.
"Hogg!" Adele shouted. "That's for Daniel to decide!"
Hogg turned and straightened. "Ma'am," he said in a trembling voice. "If the master comes back, he'll spare her for he's a gentle lad; and that's his right to do. But if he doesn't, then I'll have her heart out and this white-haired hypocrite's too—"
He kicked the Prior, not especially hard but enough to bruise regardless.
"—though you shoot me for it."
"If we don't get Daniel back unharmed, Hogg," Adele said as she rose from the console, "then I won't be defending them."
She looked at the men holding the Prior. "Let him up," she said. "As a matter of fact, carry him. He's going to lead us to the room this passage—" she waggled the book in her hands "— talks about."
"Is the captain there, mistress?" Woetjans said. She'd stuck a club of structural tubing through her belt; her right hand clenched and opened on the taped grip as she waited for an answer.
"Yes," said the Prior in a half-dead voice as the spacers dragged him upright. "Captain Leary is in the Chamber of the Tree. I'm taking you there because you'll cause less damage if I do."
They left the library and incubation chamber by one of the passages leading toward the center of the Tree. It was an odd procession, since none of the Sissies present intended to be left behind. That meant taking the dozen or more captured acolytes along as well, their arms wired behind their backs. They didn't protest, but occasionally a Sissie would kick one, for not moving faster or simply on general principles.
"You must understand," one of the older male acolytes said, "that this is greater than a single man."
Barnes punched him in the kidneys with the butt of his impeller. The man screamed and flopped forward.
"Guess it's greater than you, anyhow," Barnes growled. He and Dasi bent as if they'd practiced the maneuver. Each of the big men gripped the acolyte's elbows. They carried him with his feet and occasionally knees dragging, moaning softly.
"This is the original Sanctum," Adele said as they entered a moderate-sized room, this time set off the corridor instead being an expansion of it. There were no glowstrips in this section, but several of the spacers carried floodlamps. "Supposedly it's been abandoned."
Boxes and kitchen appliances, presumably non-functional, were piled in the center of the floor. Dug into the dead wood of one wall was a closet, empty but partly closed by a curtain.
"We been here before," said one of the men who'd been with Woetjans. "We searched it yesterday, right?"
"The door is in the back of the closet," the Prior said. "It slides to the left."
A spacer ripped the curtain down. Adele started to feel for a catch on the back wall of the closet.
Woetjans moved her aside, said, "Careful," and smashed the heel of her boot into it. Wood splintered, springing the panel free. Woetjans kicked again, sideways this time, and slid it open. Behind the panel, a set of stairs went downward.
Hogg led the way with a floodlamp in his left hand and an impeller slung muzzle-forward beneath his right arm. "Leave a couple of your boys up top, Woetjans," he called back. "Just in case our friends get ideas."
Several spacers muttered curses as they started down the long stairwell. Adele smiled coldly. Only those who'd been close enough to hear and understand the section from The Institutions would know how really long the stairs were, but they'd all have come anyway. The guards Woetjans picked for the stairhead complained bitterly that they weren't going to be part of the rescue party.
If it was a rescue party. . . .
Adele looked over her shoulder, past Tovera who was even more ghastly than usual in the hard shadows that the handlamps flung. Lamsoe and Claud carried the Prior with an arm over each of their shoulders. He had to move his feet to keep from stubbing his toes—neither Sissie was especially tall—but he wasn't supporting his own weight.
"Is Captain Leary all right?" Adele said.
"I don't know," said the Prior, his answer as blunt as the question had been. "Physically, he should be after so short a time. Mentally . . ."
He tried to shrug and couldn't, so he grimaced instead. "No one has ever been released before."
They continued down. Near the surface the treads were of wood. Pieces had been inlet into the substance of the Tree when the original steps wore deeply concave. After the first landing the stairs were cut into stone, but even here plastic caps were sealed onto treads which had worn or crumbled.
"We should have waited," the Prior said. Adele looked back. She couldn't tell whether he was speaking to her or if he was just unburdening his conscience to the world at large. "He must not have been fully one with the Tree yet. He sent a message instead of merely being the Intercessor between the Tree and the querent. It was my fault."
"But where is the Earth Diamond?" called Count Klimov. He and his wife were close enough behind to hear the Prior's voice over the echoing susurrus which boots scraped on stair treads.
"I haven't any idea," the Prior said. "There's nothing on New Delphi except the Tree and the Service."
"Don't count on either of them being around after we lift from here," a motorman snarled. "I figure we could get a bloody good bonfire going if the Sissie hovers right over the woody part, right?"
An acolyte began to sob. The spacer holding his wired wrists raised her sub-machine gun for a blow, then lowered the weapon and growled, "You shoulda thought about that when you grabbed the Captain."
Adele didn't comment. There was no point in destroying the Tree; but if Daniel wasn't all right, she wasn't sure how strong a stand she'd take to prevent that happening.
"There's a door here," Hogg called, his voice echoing. Adele saw the rusted panel past him in the wavering light of his lamp. "Is it locked?"
"No," said the Prior. He sounded as though he were speaking from the depths of troubled sleep. "It pulls toward you."
Hogg paused; both his hands were full. The level surface at the bottom of the stairs was larger than the landings, but it still wouldn't hold more than half a dozen adults. If they didn't open the door quickly there was going to be a dangerous crush.
"I'll get it," Adele said, stepping past Hogg. She gripped the staple and pulled; the hinges squealed and fought her. In sudden fury, she jerked hard. Hogg strode in, his lamp held high and out to the side; she was immediately behind him, her pistol covering the right side of the room while Hogg's big weapon lay across his body to sweep the left.
They saw the mummies against the sidewall simultaneously. Adele took two steps down the line, then started running. She didn't know when the last time she'd run had been.
"Bloody hell!" Hogg shouted, turning to prod the Prior in the throat with his impeller. "Which one is he, you bastard? Which one?"
Daniel had to be at the far end. The line started at the door and continued without a gap. "Hogg, bring your knife!" Adele said, aware that her voice was shriller than usual.
"Don't cut it, use the saline solution!" the Prior wheezed. "The salt will make the roots release without damage. Please!"
Adele reached the last figure in the line. The nametape on the left breast of Daniel's uniform was visible, but swathes of hair-fine rootlets covered his head and hands. Adele felt dizzy; she bent forward, thinking for a moment that she might have to put her head between her legs to keep from fainting. Half a dozen Sissies ran up beside her.
"Bloody hell I won't use a knife!" Hogg said. He'd slung his impeller and held the winking blade in his right hand.
"No, it may be safer for Daniel!" Adele said, clear-headed again. She put a hand on Hogg's shoulder. She'd had a sudden horrific vision of the roots going into spasms that drove them into her friend's brain. How deep were they now?
"Mistress?" said Sun, handing Adele a condensing canteen. Because the crew had been searching the Tree and the dry wastes around it, they were wearing RCN dismount gear. "I dropped half a dozen salt tablets in it. Will that do?"
"Yes," Adele said, slipping the pistol into her pocket again. Hogg snatched off his bandanna and gave it to her. She slopped water over it, then applied the wet fabric to the roots covering Daniel's face.
For an instant, nothing happened; then she felt the plant writhe as though someone were pulling a piece of coarse brocade under the bandanna. A tangle of fine roots dropped away.
Daniel trembled; his eyes were closed and his face looked like that of a sleeping angel. Adele moved the bandanna higher up her friend's scalp and poured more saltwater over it. The roots jerked away like hairs shriveling as they came too near an open flame. Daniel's hands opened; his recall plate clattered to the floor. He would've toppled onto his face if Hogg hadn't let go of the impeller and grabbed him.
Spacers and the Klimovs as well shouted amazed questions as they poured through the doorway. The echoes were odd. The cavern must stretch unguessibly far into the distance like a gigantic organ pipe.
And how many strangers would have been kidnapped in the future, if the Sissies hadn't put an end to the business tonight?
Hogg knelt, lowering Daniel toward the floor. Adele sat cross-legged and cradled his head. Tiny red pimples spotted every inch or so of his bare skin.
"Did they kill the captain?" a Sissie cried. "Did the bastards kill him?"
Daniel opened his eyes. Adele waited, her face as still as the hard metal lines of the pistol in her pocket.
Daniel gave her a slow smile. "Hello, Adele," he said. "We don't have to go to Radiance to learn about the Alliance base after all. It's been complete for almost a month. Seven hours ago an Alliance fleet of eight destroyers, a heavy cruiser, and two battleships landed there."