"The Oneness which is present in the many. It's a word from one of the old languages of my mother's people."
"Your mother?" Thomas was astounded.
"Didn't Ship tell you? I was womb-bred, womb-grown and nursed. I thought you said Ship told you everything."
Thomas flashed him a dark scowl which showed that Panille was striking at sensitive areas. But nothing had stopped Thomas from forming his army - no warnings about Avata's nature, no jibes at Thomas' limited information. Half of the army waited above them no...mixed crew of E-clones and normals - all of them praying that the freighter from Ship was bringing weapons and other support. Some had descended earlier to wait among the rocks at the base of the cliff.
Above Panille in the darkness, his Avatan guardian shared amusement and dismay at these thoughts.
Can that army save you? Panille asked.
Avata will die in only a few diurns. Then it may be that a rebirth can occur.
Oakes hasn't beaten you yet, Panille said. Lewis with his poisons and his virus, none of them understand about power.
Soft flutings rippled from the hylighter, the nearest Avata came to betraying doubts. Panille wondered then: Was this futility aroused by Thomas' efforts, or by the imminent end of Avata - no more of 'lectrokelp/hylighters, no more of the individual cells, the great plural-singular unity?
This thought disturbed him and he thought angrily as he worked his way down the steep trail to the shore: If you think you're done, then you are finished!
He emerged from a gap between high rocks onto a wide, rock-mounded sandy beach. Thomas stood far down the sand near the surf - one dark shadow among the many rocks. The surf was high, long rollers crashing onto the shingle. The air was damp with salt spray. Panille felt the surf's heavy rhythm transmitted through skin and feet simultaneously. He put a hand against one of the gateway rocks through which he had entered this sea realm. The rock was cold and wet, and it also vibrated to the surf.
Without the kelp to subdue the sea, the waves had become destructively wild - raging against the cliffs at high tide, throwing giant rocks in their surgings. Soon, very soon, all that Avata had built here would come crashing down into the wilderness of the sea.
The Avatan guardian hovered near his shoulder. One tendril touched his cheek, transmitting remembered emotions.
Yes, this is the place.
It was here, Panille recalled, that he had learned to appreciate all the centuries of poetry celebrating rock and sand and sea, and the peculiar Avata life-of-Self illuminated by the regular passage of moons and suns. Here, the occasional monotony of wave against shore had been broken by the healthy slap of a nightborn hylighter breaking free of its motherplant and drifting off with its long umbilicus tentacles trailing in the sea. Though all Avata was one creature, Panille had felt his own private kinship with the nightborn hylighter-Avatan. Here, he had listened for them and greeted each birth with a song. A far-off slap would catch his attention and fill him with all the wonder of an answered prayer. Across the gently rolling sea, the tiny creature would rise into darkness.
Never again?
Panille whispered a chant to those lost cells of Avata, feeling his whole body transmit the chant as though he were, at last, truly one with Avata.
As he chanted, the whole line of beach glowed with the moons-rise and the shimmering friendship of Avata. The glow illuminated the people of Thomas' ragtag army. Panille saw Thomas outlined against the dim light. Pushing himself away from the gateway rock, Panille went down the beach to stand near this mysterious "friend of Ship."
"They're less than two minutes away," Panille said. He felt the beacon within him, a timed fire which linked him to that hot metal behemoth diving toward him.
"Oakes will send probes," Thomas said.
"Avata will help me jam their signals." Panille gave a smile to the dark. "Would you care to join me in this?"
"No!"
You hold back too much, Raja Thomas.
"But I need your help," Panille said. And he felt Thomas fuming, the tension mounting.
"What do I do?" Thomas forced the words out.
"It may help you to touch an Avatan tentacle. Not necessary, but it helps at first."
A black tentacle came looping down to him then from the night sky. Reluctance apparent in every movement, Thomas reached out and placed a palm against the thrusting warmth.
Immediately, he felt his awareness joined to whoever guided that freighter toward them. He could see two hylighters hovering directly ahead of him and he felt his body standing on surf-drummed sand, a place to go. But the pulse of flight held him in thralldom.
If anybody had told me back at Moonbase that one day I'd land a freighter with my mind and a couple of plants that sing in the dar....
And think!
The Avata intrusion could not be avoided. Avata would not accept that designation as plant. Thomas sensed more than the aural projection, something not quite pride, but not completely separated from pride.
Avata confuses me, he apologized.
You confuse yourself. Why do you hide your true identity?
Thomas jerked his hand away from the warm tentacle, but the Avata presence remained in his awareness.
You're prying where you don't belong! Thomas accused.
Avata does not pry. There was no denying the hurt in this response.
Panille felt like an eavesdropper on a private argument. Thomas was smoldering with anger now, aware that he could not break off the Avata contact at will, aware that Avata wanted to pierce the wall behind which this private idea of himself lay hidden.
"Let's get the freighter down," Panille said. "Probes are coming from the Redoubt."
Panille released his part of the beacon system then, telling himself that he had to concentrate on the probes. Thomas would have to make his own mistakes.
The first of the probes screamed down the beach, blazing toward them on a course which undoubtedly had been computed against a plot of the incoming freighter.
As Avata had taught him, Panille set up a terrain image all around and transmitted it to the probe. He felt the projected illusion mesh with the probe's electronic functions. The probe almost shattered from the Gs it pulled, avoiding a sudden cliff which was not there.
They're getting closer, he thought.
He knew why. Each illusion of mistaken terrain formed a pattern of error from which the computer at Redoubt could derive significant results.
Avata numbers appeared in Panille's awareness, telling him that he was being monitored constantly now.
Yes, he agreed. The patrols have increased.
Tenfold in twelve hours, Avata insisted. Why does Thomas not understand his role in this?
It is his nature, perhaps.
Have you identified your contact on the freighter?
Panille thought about this question, reviewed his own performance as a beacon, and experienced a sudden wash of insight. Knowing it was urgent, he reinsinuated himself into Thomas' performance, feeling the affirmation of contact with the freighter.