Testimony

[The testimony of Talma-Quol, born in the fifty-sixth year of the Journey, concerning his wife, Volni-Quol, born in the fifty-eighth year, and the events surrounding the demonstration that took place three days ago, on the sixty-third day of the ninety-fourth year of the Journey.]

I make this record for my son, Zerga, born in the eighty-eighth year, and have stipulated that it not be released to anyone but him, after my life has ended, and I have yielded my né to the Creator Principle. If anyone other than Zerga is accessing this record, be warned that you are in violation of our atLan laws and face severe penalty if you do not stop immediately.

My son, I do this for you, for I fear I will not ever be able to speak of what happened. This must serve instead. Perhaps it will help you to think not too badly of your father. I trust that when you review this we will have completed the long Journey from our home world of Lan to the Planet. As a botanist, I cannot wait to explore the strange, new species of plants we will find there. And what have you become? Of the seven classes of atLan have you chosen to be a Quol, a scientist like your mother and me? Perhaps instead of my field you have pursued some other scientific discipline within the Quol. Maybe you have followed your mother’s footsteps and become an expert in the dangerous field of particle dispersion, or pardis, as she always insisted I call it. I would not mind if you have chosen one of the other classes. My father was a Thené, a very learned educator. You would do well as a teacher.

But I have rambled long enough. Though I would rather avoid recalling the event, I must tell the story. I begin at the evening before it happened. The three of us were having our evening meal. Your mother was the picture of excitement.

“It’s the most important breakthrough of our journey so far!” she exclaimed.

I knew she was exaggerating, but chose not to comment. It was reasonable to assume that, during the ninety-four years of our Journey so far, many others had developed breakthroughs along the way that may have just as easily qualified as the “most important”. This was her moment, however, the culmination of several years of research, and I loved hearing the flush of exhilaration that played through her words as she talked. I watched in delight as her dark eyes glistened with eager anticipation and her smile broadened, displaying the dimples that had always captivated me.

“It’s tomorrow, then,” I replied. “The demonstration.”

That’s all I said, meekly accepting what she had planned. I should have made a strenuous protest, raised questions, but I didn’t.

“Mommy, can I come, too?” you asked, looking almost as excited as your mother.

“No, Zerga!” I said, a bit too harshly.

“I’m afraid it’s just for adults, dear.” Your mother spoke in a calm voice, though I could see the reproach in her eyes when they fixed on mine.

“When I’m older and a Quol like you,” you announced in a confident tone, “I will find…breakthroughs.” You pronounced the word awkwardly, but triumphantly.

“When you’re older,” your mother agreed, amused at your determination.

“Volni, are you certain that you want me to help you with the demonstration?” I asked. “This isn’t my field.” My science, I liked to think, dealt with creation, while hers dealt with destruction.

The truth was – though I would never tell her – that having anything to do with pardis devices intimidated me. The thought of their beams encircling me, tearing apart every shred of my being until absolutely nothing remained, had long haunted me. This was how they will dispose of my body when I die, but the fact that I will have no awareness of it at the time doesn’t help me feel any better. It is a necessary practice while we travel through space, of course, but I hope that when we reach the Planet, different burial rites may have been considered. If it is not too late and my body has not yet been reduced to nothingness, please try to find an alternative for me, Zerga.

“It will be perfectly safe, Talma,” she reassured me, the curl of her lips allowing her dimples to emerge once more. “We’ll be holding the demonstration in the pardis chamber. Three of the tsé will be in attendance. Nothing bad will happen.”

Ah, the tsé! Yes, only three were invited. There should have been a fourth. Maybe it would have made a difference. Have you become a tsé, Zerga, rising to the top rank of whatever atLan class you have chosen? My older sister Tinadi has – Shi-Tinadi, as you liked to call your aunt, using the affectionate prefix even in gatherings when you should have used her formal title. I am at this point a Level Four Quol, though perhaps I may have achieved another level or two by the time you access this record. Certainly not three more levels to become the Tsé-Quol. I would not accept such a position. It is enough for me to manage my plants; I have no desire to manage the affairs of my fellow Quol. Being a tsé involves too much posturing. But you heard your mother mention the tsé, and that meant only one thing to you.

“Will Shi-Tinadi be there?” you asked immediately.

“Of course she will,” Volni replied. “She’s the Tsé-Quol.”

“And Sha-Alna?”

Your mother smiled as she nodded her agreement. I wonder, do you still call him that, even though as the brother of your aunt Tinadi’s husband, he is not exactly a close relative? I suppose not. Children are allowed to disregard our rigid boundaries of decorum; it is more difficult for an adult. I could never address him so. But Alna-Eta is a good man, and very approachable. We’ve had many a long discussion in the past few days. The Eta tend to poke their noses into everyone’s business, but they’re only carrying out their task of making sure everything is co-ordinated and flows smoothly in our society. And they can be of great help sometimes. Alna-Eta was to me. He was the second of the tsé who were invited.

The third tsé was obvious. Since your mother’s research had definite military implications, a member of the Tsor class would need to be involved. Unfortunately, it had to be Zharna-Tsor. Many of the Tsor can display an almost arrogant and even intimidating attitude at times, and Zharna-Tsor is the prime example of this. I believe he contributed to the regrettable turn of events.

Your mother’s good friend Lawi-Ermé rounded out the guest list. She is not a tsé, but it would not surprise me if by now she has become one. She was there because Alna-Eta felt it prudent to have someone from the medical class in attendance as a precaution – a good suggestion as it turned out, for I was to find myself in need of her skills.

Only those four were present at the demonstration. I questioned your mother about the obvious omission.

“Shouldn’t Apori have been invited?” I asked. “She and her Phas crew worked with yours to develop your device. She should be helping you present it, not me.”

“The Phas are engineers,” she scoffed. “They put things together once we Quol have worked out the scientific principles. And that’s what we’re demonstrating tomorrow – science, not toys.”

Her last word got your attention.

“Toys?” you asked. “The Phas make toys?”

“Of course,” your mother answered, humoring you. “Very nice ones.”

I would not call a pardis weapon a toy. It was the Phas who created this practical application of particle dispersion science many years ago back on Lan. And we would be using one the next day.

I wasn’t ready to let the subject drop.

“At least you could have invited the Tsé-Phas as a courtesy.”

“Talma! Enough. We’re not going to argue about this. Certainly not in front of Zerga.”

I should have pressed the matter harder. In truth, Apori-Phas knows as much about particle dispersion as your mother, as does the Tsé-Phas. Had either of them been there, they may have been able to dissuade her from the impetuous decision she made. My sister was present, but Tinadi’s field before she became our tsé had been botany, like mine. She trusted your mother’s judgement.

I must confess that I did as well. It is easier to see our mistakes in hindsight.

As it was, I didn’t pursue the question. I wouldn’t accuse your mother of professional jealousy, but she felt very possessive of what she had developed – in spite of the fact that, along with her own Quol team, the Phas team had also helped. It was one of the areas, as often happens, where the interests and skills of more than one class can intersect. And there your mother had a blind spot. I’m sure she was appreciative of others who had contributed to her discovery, but she wanted the demonstration to be a triumph of Quol science. It was a mistake.

In the morning, we gathered at the pardis chamber. I don’t know that you’ll ever become acquainted with this unique feature, since by all estimates we should arrive at the Planet before you would be very far into your studies for whatever atLan class you have chosen, and that will eliminate the need for such a compartment. You will appreciate that on a ship hurtling through space the use of pardis devices must be carefully controlled for fear of hull breach or worse. We had to use the chamber because the Tsé-Tsor insisted that we conduct the demonstration with a regulation pardis weapon. I’m sure you realize by now that such an appliance has two settings, one in which the particle dispersion effect would destroy only organic material, and one in which the beam produced by the device would destroy everything it met, organic or inorganic. Needless to say, the use of the full setting was strictly forbidden while we were in space. Only the Tsé-Tsor could override this directive. Unfortunately.

The chamber itself was made of thick walls containing heavy-metal baffles held in place by force fields and surrounded by inert gases. They would stop a direct hit from a pardis beam on full setting, or even a small pardis explosion. In addition, the room was on a bottom exterior wall of the ship, and could be jettisoned from the craft if necessary as a final, extreme measure. The thought of your mother and I being in such a place certainly did not make me feel any easier about the demonstration.

As for the observers, they were behind one of the specially constructed walls. Pelstor devices picked up the images from the pardis chamber and projected them over an entire wall, giving the illusion that they were actually in the room with us. The pardis testing area was accessed through an antechamber off the spectators’ section, and, once inside, we could see and hear those who were watching us by monitors placed on our side of the wall.

As your mother and I walked through the thick door into the demonstration room, I felt a tremor of anxiety. She sensed my apprehension.

“There’s nothing to worry about, Talma. I’ve checked and re-checked every aspect of the presentation I’ll be making. I’ve done it all here before, only this time my work will be officially certified by our observers.”

I glanced up at the monitor to see the four of them sitting in a row. On the one end, Lawi-Ermé looked on with concern, while in the middle, my sister and Alna-Eta chatted amiably. On the other end, Zharna-Tsor appeared to stare directly at us, his face showing a mixture of disdain and skepticism.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked. She hadn’t told me many of the details of the demonstration, and I hadn’t asked. I thought it better not to know. I would only worry more.

“You’ll be operating the pardis device.”

A surge of panic washed over me.

“The weapon? You want me to use the weapon? Only Tsor are allowed to use it.”

She smiled. “Zharna wanted one of his Tsor to do this, but I assured him you could operate it easily, since the weapon is fixed in place. You don’t even have to hold it. It’s aimed and ready. Besides, I wanted you with me to share this historic event.”

I loved her for that. And so I trustingly went along with her design. My part was simple. The pardis weapon, little more than a tube the length of one’s hand from wrist to fingertips, had been attached to a metal stand on a table, and pointed across the room to another table. All I had to do when she asked was to place my palm slightly above the far end of it and then draw my hand back toward me in a sweeping motion.

While I was studying the device, your mother made her way to the far table, where three plants in metal pots sat. She separated them carefully, placing them in a horizontal row a short distance apart from each other. She set a small round disk, about three finger-widths in diameter on the middle pot. The plants, I noted, were small frim’sha bushes that had come from my lab. I wondered what Lawi-Ermé would think of that. She loved the herbal drink that could be made from their leaves and was always visiting my lab to obtain some. They were plentiful. If we had to lose some to your mother’s experiment, I thought, it wouldn’t matter.

When she had finished, your mother came back to stand beside me.

“What I have placed on the middle pot,” she said, speaking confidently to the faces on the monitor, “is what I call a pardis ‘shield’. It absorbs the pardis beam, or at least a portion of it. I’ve set it to protect only the plant in the center.”

She nodded at me to proceed. The instant that I waved my hand across the length of the pardis weapon a red ray shot out, encasing the plants on either side with a brilliant gleam. The brightness intensified until it became almost too dazzling to look at, and then suddenly dissipated, leaving empty pots on either side of the middle frim’sha bush. Even the soil had disappeared from them. A small red cloud had formed in front of the unaffected plant, but eventually vanished.

Your mother made her way back to the table, tilted the empty pots toward the observers, then placed them back beside the middle one.

“The pardis shield,” she told them, holding up the round disk, “is essentially a force field composed of negative energy. Matter can pass through it, but not energy. The energy from a pardis ray is absorbed and disposed of when it comes into contact with it. I will demonstrate.”

She walked back over to me.

“Why do you need my help at all?” I whispered. “You could have easily operated the pardis weapon yourself.”

“You’ll see.” she replied, then produced a small, red ball from the pocket of her tunic. It was one of yours. “At my signal, throw this to me. Engage the pardis weapon as soon as you’ve thrown the ball.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Nothing I haven’t done before. Don’t worry. It’s perfectly safe. That’s the point of this whole demonstration.”

She returned to the far table and picked up the disk. After she had made some adjustments to it, she fastened it to a necklace she was wearing. Then she went and stood behind the remaining frim’sha bush.

“Now, Talma,” she said. “Throw me the ball and fire the pardis beam.”

“I can’t,” I said, incredulous at her suggestion. “You’re right in its line!”

She was about to ask again when your aunt’s voice came over the speaker in the chamber.

“Volni, you can’t do this. It’s far too dangerous. You’ve made your point. We can agree that the application works.”

“No,” Zharna-Tsor protested. “I want to see this. I can arrange for a Tsor to take her place, if necessary.”

“It won’t be,” your mother replied. “I am very confident in my work. I’ve done this before in testing it.”

After a long pause, your aunt spoke again. “All right, proceed,” she said in a hesitant voice.

“Talma,” your mother said very firmly. “Do what I asked.”

I looked up at the monitor to see if there might have been any further objections. I wanted to refuse her request, but I knew she would only have someone else take my place. I’m sure Zharna would have been all too willing. I threw the ball and waved my hand past the pardis weapon. A red ray burst out and engulfed the remaining frim’sha bush, forming a light red cloud that obscured my view of your mother. The ball went sailing through the cloud. I waited anxiously for the few moments it took for the cloud to dissolve. The spectators, viewing the action from the side would have had a better perspective, and I was relieved to hear no exclamations of alarm from them. Finally, through a thin red haze, I could see your mother smiling back at me as she held the ball I had thrown. On the table in front of her, the third frim’sha bush had disappeared.

I leaned back against the chamber wall, hardly hearing the congratulations she was receiving from the observers, or the technical discussions and questions that followed. I was grateful that the presentation was over. At least, I had thought it was over. Zharna-Tsor had not been sufficiently impressed. He questioned the value of a device that would protect only organic material and wanted a further demonstration with the pardis weapon set at full capacity. Your aunt and Alna-Eta had seemingly dissuaded him from his dangerous request when your mother spoke up.

“The principle is the same,” she said defiantly. “I’ll show you.”

As she came back to me, Zharna-Tsor was busy talking to the main control room, authorizing the use of a pardis weapon at full setting in the chamber. A series of blue lights began to flash overhead, and a low, whining sound told me that the chamber had been readied for emergency ejection. I could scarcely find my voice when your mother began adjusting the pardis weapon.

“You’re not going to stand in front of full pardis beam,” I objected. “I can’t let you.”

I spoke harshly, more than I ever had before with your mother, though I knew if she wanted to do this, there was no way I could stop her. She continued working on the pardis weapon, wrenching it free from the stand that had fixed it to the table.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to. Tinadi would never allow it. Here, hold this for a moment while I set up.”

Much to my shock I realized that she had thrust the pardis weapon at me. I grasped it tightly, not wanting to move a muscle as long as it was in my hands.

“Point it at the floor,” she said impatiently, as she picked up the table and began carrying it to the other side of the chamber. I had been unwittingly pointing the weapon in her direction.

She placed the table in front of the other one, arranged two of the pots on it, and left one pot on the further table with the disk propped against it.

“You’d better let me operate that,” she said, holding out her hand for the pardis weapon. “And stand away from me a bit.” I willingly complied. “It’s set for full effect,” she continued, her face bathed in blue from the intermittent warning lights flashing in the chamber. “But it’s on the lowest possible energy setting. No sense risking a hull breach.”

When she fired it, a red burst shot out and surrounded the near table with a deeper, more intense scarlet cloud, becoming so impossibly bright that I had to turn my eyes away from it for a moment. When I looked back, the table with the two pots had disappeared, but the one behind it had remained intact. A reddish cloud, compact and angry-looking, however, still hovered above it, and it wasn’t evaporating as the others had. Your mother didn’t notice this. Still holding the pardis weapon, she had turned to the monitor, a look of triumph on her face. She about to speak to her guests, but never had a chance to say a word.

A red burst discharged from the cloud, covering her completely in its glow. I reached for her with my left arm, thinking that somehow I could pull her out of the haze. I couldn’t. She felt as if she were made of metal. Molten metal. The searing heat began moving up my arm, the brightness around your mother increasing until what seemed to be a small explosion sent me crashing against the wall of the chamber. I was only vaguely aware as I lost consciousness that both your mother and most of my left arm had disappeared.

The next thing I knew, Lawi was kneeling beside me, removing my belt and tying it across the stump of my arm. There was blood on her golden-colored Ermé tunic. My blood. I could sense myself trying to apologize to her, but no words were coming out. Then, everything was darkness.

You will know the outcome of all this better than I do at the moment, since it has been only three days since the tragic accident. As I record this testimony, Alna-Eta is petitioning the ruling council to suspend any further study into pardis shielding, and recommending that all research on it be destroyed. I assume you will be aware whether he was successful in this. Tinadi has accepted full responsibility and is being removed from her position as tsé. Zharna-Tsor has also been reprimanded. No one has attached any blame to me, other than the deep guilt I feel for not having done more to prevent what took place. I am being fitted for an artificial arm, and Lawi assures me that everything I do with it will be as good as before. It will not. It can never hold your mother in its embrace.

[End of testimony]