Infinity's Shore

“What do you mean?” Lark asked.

“When our comrades left us — four humans and two Rothen, with the job of doing a bioassay on Jijo — I thought the others were going to cruise nearby space, in case the dolphin ship was hiding on some nearby planetoid. But that was not their aim at all.

“Their real intent was to go find a buyer.”

Lark frowned in puzzlement. “A Buyur? But aren’t they extinct? You mean the Rothen wanted to hire one as a guide, to come back to Jijo and—”

“No … a buyer!” Ling laughed, though it was not a happy sound. “You were right about the Rothen, Lark. They live by bartering unusual or illicit information, often using human Daniks as agents or intermediaries. It was an exciting way of life … till you made me realize how we’ve been used.” Ling’s expression turned dark. Then she shook her head.

“In this case, they must have realized Jijo was worth a fortune to the right customer. There are lifeforms on this planet whose development seems ahead of schedule, rapidly approaching presapience. And there are the Six Races. Surely someone would pay to know about such a major infestation of criminal sooners … no offense.”

“None taken. And of course, the clue to the dolphin ship was worth plenty. So …” He blew an airy sigh through his nostrils, like a disgusted urs. “Your masters decided to sell us all.”

Ling nodded, but her eyes bored into Rann. “Our patrons sold us all.”

The big Danik did not meet her gaze. He pressed both hands against his temples, emitting a low moan that seemed half from pain and half disgust at her treason. He turned toward the wall, but did not touch the oily surface.

“After all we’ve seen, you still think the Rothen are patrons of humanity?” Lark asked.

Ling shrugged her shoulders. “I cannot easily dismiss the evidence I was shown while growing up — evidence dating back thousands of years. Anyway, it might explain our bloody, treacherous history. The Rothen lords claim it’s because our dark souls kept drifting from the Path. But maybe we are exactly what they uplifted us to be. Raised to be shiils for a gang of thieves.”

“Hrm. That might relieve us of some of the responsibility. Still, I’d rather be wolflings, with ignorance our only excuse.”

Ling nodded, lapsing into silence, perhaps contemplating the great lie her life had revolved around. Meanwhile, Lark found a new perspective on the tale of humanity. It went beyond a dry litany of events, recited from dusty tomes in the Biblos Archive.

The Daniks claim that we had guidance all along … that Moses, Jesus, Buddha, Fuller, and others were teachers in disguise. But if we were helped — by the Rothen or anybody else — then our helpers clearly did a lousy job.

Like a problem child who needs open, honest, personal attention, we could have used a lot more than a few ethical nostrums. Vague hints like,“Have faith” and “Be nice to each other.” Moralizing platitudes aren’t enough to guide a rowdy tyke … and they sure did not prevent dark ages, slavery, the twentieth-century Holocaust, or the despots of the twenty-first.

All those horrors reflect as poorly on the teacher as the students. Unless…

Unless you suppose we actually did it all alone…

Lark was struck by the same feeling as when he and Ling spoke beside the mulc spider’s lake. His mind filled with an image of poignant, awful beauty. A tapestry spanning thousands of years — human history seen from afar. A tale of frightened orphans, floundering in ignorance. Of creatures smart enough to stare in wonder at the stars, asking questions of a night that never answered, except with terrifying silence.

Sometimes, from desperate imaginations, the silence provoked roaring hallucinations, fantastic rationalizations, or self-serving excuses for any crime the strong might choose to commit against the weak. Deserts widened as men ignorantly cut forests. Species vanished as farmers burned and plowed. Wars spread ruin in the name of noble causes.

Yet, amid all that, humanity somehow began pulling together, learning the arts of calmness, peering forward in time, like a neglected infant teaching itself to crawl and speak.

To stand and think.

To walk and read.

To care … and then become a loving parent to others.

The kind of parent poor orphans never had.

Born on a refuge world whose crude safety had vanished, imprisoned in the bowels of an alien starship, Lark nevertheless felt drawn away from worrying about his own fate, or even the six exile clans of Jijo. After all, on the vast scale of things, his life hardly mattered. The Five Galaxies would spin on, even if every last Earthling vanished.

Yet he found his heart torn by the tragic story of Homo sapiens, the self-taught wolflings of Terra. It was a bittersweet tale, pulling from his reluctant eyes trickles of tart brine that tasted like the sea.

The voice was familiar … horrifyingly so.

“Tell us now.”