like this for a long time. There was nothing he could do against it now. "Father!" he cried. "Do you know what it is that has us?"

  "Of course I know, Lawrence," Aaron said. "It is what we have always wanted, always dreamed of. A guide, one who will help us through the dangers that the universe presents. "

  "No, Father, you've got it wrong!" Lawrence had more to say, but sudden agonizing pain stopped him before he could go on. He wanted to warn Aaron: This thing meant nothing good for them, and certainly not for the human race. But there was nothing he could say.

  "It's all right, Lawrence," Aaron said. "Gea and I understand each other. Gea, I want you to send my son and the others away from here. You and I need to talk, to plan our moves. "

  "I do the planning," Gea said.

  "Of course you do," Aaron said. "But I can be a help. There are things you haven't learned about us yet. Ways of handling us which will suit your goals."

  "Very well," Gea said. "You Erthumoi are more stubborn than I believed possible. But if at least one of you will listen, will obey me, then all is not lost."

  "I am that one," Aaron said. "I greet you, Master."

  Father! The word screamed against Lawrence's brain, but he couldn't pronounce it. He watched, sick to his heart, as Aaron groveled in the dirt in front of the flame.

  "Send them away," Aaron said. "And let us begin our plans. "

  Lawrence felt himself lifted, bome away. He underwent a moment of vertigo. Then he awoke and found himself back on his ship. It was the original ship that the expedition had brought to Myryx over a year ago. Now, for the first time, he was able to work the controls. He lost no time in removing the ship a safe distance from the planet. Then he got on the communicator fast.

  With his communicator set to transmit everything to Lawrence's ship, Aaron followed the flame deep into the

  interior of Alien City, to the shrine room he had located below the main level. It was deserted, a long, low-ceilinged place lit by flaming torches set into wall embrasures. The others had left, commanded to do so by Gea.

  Now Aaron was alone with the flamelike spirit.

  The flame, substance of the creature who called himself Gea, was changing now, becoming silvery and waterlike, then changing again to a deep metallic purple red. The shapes and colors flowed ceaselessly, and Aaron didn't understand what generated its changes. As soon as he thought he could grasp it, it flowed and became something else. Aaron wondered if this might have been the origin of the shape-changer myths that mankind had had for so long. For all he knew, this fiery, slippery creature might have been the original Proteus, old man of the sea and of change.

  "Mobility is strength," Gea said, "and I have many transformations. The others were too timid. They couldn't stand to look at me and behold man's next becoming. I could never trust them. You are wise to serve me, Aaron, although for a while I worried about you."

  "Are all of your shapes elemental?" Aaron asked. "Or can you show me one of your human forms?"

  "I can take any shape I want," Gea said. "But why a human one? That is the only time I'm vulnerable."

  Aaron said, "We will want to make statues of your human form so all mankind can see."

  "That's a good idea," Gea said. His surfaces flashed and flowed. He was for a moment the source of all light in the room, an explosion of silent color and brilliance. Then the light faded and there stood before Aaron a gigantic man with godlike proportions. He looked to Aaron like a huge Michelangelo sculpture, or perhaps one of the great chryselephantine statues of Zeus.

  "This is classic, one of my forms that mankind has always enjoyed," Gea said. "This was one of those I wore before the cataclysm."

  "What cataclysm was that?" Aaron asked.

  "Atlantis," Gea said. "That was when the Antagonist bound me and sent me out here." "Tell me more," Aaron said.

  Gea looked at him suspiciously. "I wonder about you, Aaron. What are you?" "Your prophet," Aaron saidL "Are you really? Humans lie so readily."

  "I am, for sure," Aaron said. "And here is my proof." He removed the bomb from his pouch. As he had suspected, Gea did nothing to stop him.

  Gea merely looked at him.- There was sadness in the classical features, the short, heavy beard, the hyacinthine locks. Gea said, "How quickly the cycles turn!"

  Aaron said, "Was this how it ended last time?"

  "This is always how it ends. Aaron, don't do it. We can work together, shape the human race into something really noble, something godlike."

  "You poor fool," Aaron said. "Don't you realize that the human race doesn't want and doesn't need anyone to shape it?"

  A silent and rosy glow mounted against the blackness of space. The light spread for a moment, then faded away.

  "It's over," Lawrence said.

  Matthew said, "How long were you under that creature's power?"

  "We succumbed almost from the first," Lawrence said. "He kept on showing us miracles, strange ways of being, different modalities of consciousness. He never seemed satisfied. The other investigators and I fought him all the way. It took my father to pretend to join with him, and then pull the pin." "So that's what one of the ancient ones looks like," Matthew said. "It seems hardly possible that that creature was one of the ancient Seventh Race."

  "I doubt very much that he was that," Lawrence said. "We'll never know for sure, but my impression is that Gea is of a race of galactic creatures, powerful but not particularly intelligent. Perhaps he's the ' last one of his kind. Certainly he's the only one we've seen. I think he takes refuge in deserted cities. Like bats and snakes hide

  out in caves. He's a predator, and he's got a few tricks up his sleeve, but

  he can be killed."

  "What was all that he was saying about Atlantis?" Matthew asked.

  "I don't know," Lawrence said. "It seemed to be something about being bound to a spot. Like Prometheus and the rocks of the Caucasus. And his story has aspects of the Christ myth, too. Though in this case he would be Lucifer. There was something devilish about him, wasn't there?"

  "I think so," Matthew said. "It's an interesting analogue. I think it's the first time mankind, or any other species, has encountered anything like this. It argues the possibility that other such creatures might exist in the galaxy. Some of them in deserted cities. Others, who knows where?"

  "It's something to watch out for," Lawrence said. "But we'll have to- take

  that up later. Now I have to go."

  "Where, in such a rush?"

  "To see Sara. Gea made it impossible for me to talk to her. " He moved toward the door and then stopped. "I only wish my father were here to see this."

  THE BURNINC31 SKY

  POUL ANDERSON

  IUS NEVER QurrE SLEPT. AFrER DARK THE TOWERS and slipways of its centrum flared with light, pulsed with traffic, life that the free city, largest on Ather, drew unto itself from the whole planet and beyond. The harbor district lay quiet, though, watercraft and machines waiting for sunrise. Walls along the docks lifted sheer, their darknesses blocking off all but sky glow. Thus eyes found stars above the bay. Past full, the bigger moon was nonetheless rising bright enough to throw a bridge over the waves, which they broke into shivers and sparkles. Smells of salt, engines, cargos drifted cool.

  Harul Vargen stopped before his apartment building. "Here we are," he said needlessly. Was it shyness that thickened his accent? Ordinarily he spoke fluent Merse. The vague illumination showed him tensed within the gray tunic and breeks of a Comet Line officer. "The hour's gotten later than I expected. If you'd rather postpone die-the conference--"

  Laurice Windfell considered him. He stood a head taller than her, with the slenderness, sharp features, fair complexion of his Brettan people. As was common these days on Ather, he went beardless and kept his hair short. Those blond locks had thinned and dulled, furrows ran through brow and cheeks; he must be far overdue for a rejuvenation. She hadn't ventured to ask why. The eyes, in their deep sockets amidst the crow's-feet, remained clear, "No," she said, "I think we had best get to our business,"

  137

  putting a slight emphasis on the last word, lest he misunderstand.

  It had, after all, been a pleasant evening, dinner at Bynen's, liqueurs, animated conversation throughout, that continued while they walked the three kilometers to this place. They discovered a shared passion for Ather's wildernesses; he sought especially to explore the Ronaic Alps, and had had some colorful experiences there. Otherwise he said little about himself, nothing about his past. However, she felt she had come to know him well enough for her purposes. Several personal meetings, after her agents had compiled a report on him, should suffice. They'd better. Time was growing short.

  "Very well," he agreed. "If you please, milady. " The door identified him and retracted. He let her precede him into a drab lobby and onto the up spiral. It carried them to the fourth floor.

  Admitted to his lodging, she glanced about, hoping for more clues to his personality, and found disappointment. The living room was small, aseptically clean, sparsely furnished. While she had gathered he was an omnivorous reader, it seemed he owned nothing printed but drew entirely on the public database. A half-completed model of a sailing ship, probably one that had plied the seas of ancient Earth, was the only sign of other interests. Wen, maybe he'd picked these quarters because a transparency offered what must be a spectacular daylight view of bay, headlands, and ocean.

  "Please be seated," he urged. "Can I offer you a drink?"

  Laurice took a chair. Like the rest, it was rigid. "Just cofflea, " she said. "No sweetener."

  Vargen raised his brows. "Nor brandy? As you wish. I'll have a snifter myself, if you don't mind." The dossier related that he drank rather heavily, though not to the point of impairment and never in space. He shunned psychotropes. His occasional visits to Chlora's Bower hardly counted as a vice in a man unmarried. The girls there found him likable, yet none of them had really gotten to know him,

  any more than his shipmates and ground-side acquaintances had.

  He stepped into the cuisinette. She heard a pot whirr. He came back carrying a goblet half full of amber liquid. "Yours will be ready in a couple of minutes," he said, and sipped. The motion was jerky. "Would you care for some music? Only name it."

  "No, thank you," she replied. "Nice in the restaurant, but pointless now. Neither of us would hear, I think."

  He tautened further. "What do you want with me, Milady Windfell?"

  Her hazel gaze met his blue. "First and foremost," she told him, "your pledge to keep everything secret. I've satisfied myself that you can. Will you?"

  "I take for granted this is ... honorable," he said slowly.

  She stiffened her tone. "You know my father is Davith, Head of our House." "Indeed. And I've heard about you." A lopsided smile creased the gaunt face. "When a member of one of this world's ruling families seeks me out, talking about a possible service but not specifying it, I do a bit of inquiry on my own. I found a couple of men who've gone exploring with you. They spoke highly. " He drew breath. "You have my promise. Absolute confidentiality until you release me from it. What do you want me to do?" Despite herself, she felt her pulse quicken. "Don't you think you're wasted as mate on a wretched ore freighter?"

  His expression blanked. He shrugged. "It's the best berth available. At that, you remember, I had to work up to it. There isn't much space trade hereabouts."

  The thought flitted unbidden: No, there isn't, as isolated as we air on this far fringe of Erthuma settlement. Not that distance matters when you hypedump. But after two centuries, we are still not so many on Ather, and most of us are conservative, inward-looking, preoccupied with our local affairs. The other planets of Florasol suffice us. Even I and my comrades find exploration ample for lifetimes among the immediate neighbor stars.

  Is that what called you to us, Harul Vargen? Our loneliness?

  "Once you had a command," she threw at him. "It was a fully robotic vessel.

  How would you like it again?"

  He stood unstirring.

  "That was long ago," she pursued, "but we, my associates in this enterprise

  and I, we don't believe you've lost the skills. A little practice should

  restore them completely. If anything, to be an officer with a live crew, as you are these days, is more demanding, and your record is good. "

  He kept his countenance locked, but she barely heard his question, and it trembled. "What ship do you mean?"

  "T'he Darya, of course. Windfell only has one of that kind." Few Houses possessed any; they cost. "We sponsor scientific expeditions, you see. I'm no cosmonaut Myself, but I can assure you she's a lovely, capable craft."

  "I know." He stared beyond her, drank, and asked in an almost normal voice, "Why do you want me? You have your qualified people."

  "Tbree," stated Laurice. "Feru Windfell is currently undergoing rejuvenation. The other two are from client families, perfectly fine except that--Olwar Mihelsson is a blabbermouth. You can trust him with anything except a secret. Sora Tomosdaughter's husband is one Bern Ironhammer. I don't say she would betray our confidence to him and his House, but ... best not subject her to a conflict of loyalties, right?"

  He seemed to have quite regained his balance. "Since we're being so frank, what about me? The Comet Line belongs to the Huldrings, after all, and the Windfells have been at loggerheads with them as often as with the Ironliaminers or any others. "

  "You're a resident foreigner. You owe them no fealty and they've had no oaths from you. Take an unpaid leave, and you're a free agent. Afterward,

  I expect we'll offer you something permanent. " Laurice softened her words. "Not that we ask any betrayal. We simply don't want outsiders thrusting in-at least not till we understand the situation ourselves - "

  His glance went to the transparency and the stars that

  the lighting hid from him. "Does that include Erthumoi everywhere? The whole Six Races?"

  She nodded. "Aside from the Naxians, those of them that already know, and are concealing the truth. Whatever it is. Something tremendous, we believe. Potentiallyexplosive? For good or ill, not anything we want iffesponsibly released."

  His dryness was a challenge: "Especially not to rival Houses. "

  Anger flickered. "We're no saints in Windfell. But I don't think you, either, would like this planet if the balance of power lay with a religious fanatic like Anlus Huldring or a clutch of reckless commercialists like the Seaholms. "

  He cocked a brow. She practically heard him refrain from saying: So you deem them.

  "And as for the galaxy at large," she continued, striving for calm, "six spacefaring species make things precarious enough. Just look at what the business about the Forerunners is causing-tensions, suspicions, frantic competition to discover more. No, we intend to proceed with every possible precaution. There may well be danger anyway, danger enough to suit the rashest rattle-brain."

  He grinned. "Which you assume I am not."

  The abrupt lightness of his manner eased her. He can handle people pretty well when he wants to, she thought. Excellent. She laughed. "Explorers have an old, old saying that adventure is what happens to the incompetent. What we intend is simply an investigation. Once we know more, we'll decide what to do next." Sobering, she finished, "My father has been the Head of his House, with as strong a voice in. the World Council as any, for nearly two hundred years. Ask yourself, hasn't he proven out? A hardheaded realist, yes, but concerned with the welfare of Ather more than of his kin or clients, and with civilization as a whole over and above that. Will you put your faith in him or in a coven of snakes?"

  Vargen frowned the least bit. She suspected he found her language objectionable, as a person might who had fared widely about and dealt with many different beings.

  "Oh, I'm not parochial," she said quickly. "Contrariwise. In fact, we were alerted to this by a Naxian, and it-he'll travel with us."

  "Us?" he murmured.

  Blood heated her face. "If you accept the mission."

  "I rather think I will." He inhaled a fragrance from the cuisinette. "Your cofftea's ready, milady. I'll bring it."

  Taking a datacard out of her sleeve pocket, she put it in his terminal. "This has been edited, but only to bring time-separate parts together and cut out nonessentials," she explained. "It's our basic record of the encounter."

  A woman appeared in the screen, seated at a desk. She was a sister of Laurice's, but well-nigh a stranger, bom eighty years earlier and, newly rejuvenated, looking girlishly younger. The image showed date and time in one comer. Behind her, a viewscreen displayed the mining camp she superintended. Beyond it, rock and ice lay in a jumble to the near horizon. The moon's gas giant primary hung as a crescent in the darkness above. Florasol, shrunken by remoteness till the disk was barely perceptible, gleamed near the edge of its ring system.

  "Janya Windfell, wedded to Elfer Ullosson, calling from Isrith," she proclaimed. The name of her present husband wasn't necessary to identify her, but she always made a point of using it. He was among the House's most prominent clients, chief engineer at the base and, at home, grown wealthy from his investments. "I have immediate need to speak with the Head, communications enciphered. "

  The screen blinked, the time indicated was half an hour later, and she was saying as crisply: "A strange spacecraft has arrived unheralded and taken up orbit about us. The pilot, who claims to be alone, sent a request for tightbeam laser contact. I obliged. It is a Naxian, asking urgently to be put in touch with the leadership of our House. Yes, it seems to understand Atheran sociopolitics fairly well and to be aware that operations on Isrith are Windfell's. That may be why it sought us instead of somebody else, this chance for secrecy. It doesn't want anything made public." She hesitated.

  "I have no experience in dealing

  with nonhumans. Nobody here does. Pending your orders, I've restricted news of its arrival to those few who already know, and have activated the censor program in all transmitters. Rumors are flying. I have no idea how long the Naxian will wait. Please advise me."