To Fear The Light Read online

  There were no windows, although a louvered grating in the rear allowed the chilly night air to waft in, causing the tattered canvas tarp that served as a door to flutter gently. The interior remained cozily warm, however. She ran her hand along the rusty surface nearest the cot, and felt heat still radiating from metal warmed by a Sun two hours set. Drawing back her hand, she saw that her fingers were red-brown with a thin coating of rust. She touched a fingertip to her nose and, closing her eyes, inhaled deeply; the metallic scent was earthy and comfortable, the tang mixing pleasantly with the odor of the lantern and the aroma of wood smoke from the bonfires downhill from the humpie.

  She kept her eyes closed and listened to the sounds of the corroboree drifting through the louvers behind her: the steady, rhythmic beating of clapping sticks; the deeply droning gibba-yerruh, gibba-yerruh, gibba-yerruh of the didjeridoos, long pipelike wind instruments frequently larger than the men playing them; the thumping of a hundred men stamping their feet in unified jubilation; even the occasional whirling buzz of the bullroarers favored by the young boys of the various tribes. There were hundreds of Aborigines, representing dozens of tribes, who had gathered here at Billy’s invitation. All were still involved in the festive ceremonies, which promised to last well into the next day.

  A soft beeping abruptly drew her attention, and she reluctantly opened her eyes. Using the bed for a seat, she leaned over the battered wooden crate that served as a makeshift desk at the foot of the cot. The words ARGYLE DIAMOND MINE, stenciled darkly on one side of the crate long ago, were just barely visible on the surface of cracked, dry wood. Cathay lightly touched the flatscreen tablet she had propped up there, and the screen obediently came to life with a steady blue glow that contrasted strangely with the dull yellow light from the lantern. In the center of the blue field was displayed the Imperial crest. She saw her own reflection in the glossy plastic, and was startled by how unkempt she looked. Her long brown hair was a tangled mess, and she quickly pulled it back over her shoulder, twisted it into a tail and tucked it down into the collar of her blouse. As far as tidying her appearance, that would have to do. Satisfied, she touched a square on the lower corner of the screen marked Receive, leaving behind a tiny red-brown fingerprint on the plastic.

  “Daddy, thank you for getting back to me so quickly,” she said cheerfully when Eric appeared. He looked well, and it was good to see him again. He was in the study of the family estate, and she could see the morning sunshine streaming in behind him through the opened doors leading to the balcony. “I hope I’m not disturbing you. I know it’s still early morning there.”

  “Hello, sweetheart,” the Emperor said warmly from half a world away. “Don’t worry about the time; I’ve been up for hours. Is everything all right there?”

  “Everything is fine. But I might be difficult to get hold of for the next few days, so I just wanted to check in with you; it’s been some time since we last spoke, and I wanted to fill you in on what’s been happening here.”

  “In that case, then, I’m glad you did. How are things progressing? Is Billy pleased with what’s happening there?”

  “Oh, Daddy,” she replied, feeling her smile broaden as she relayed the news. “It’s even better than we could have hoped for! There are more than a thousand people here, with tribal groups represented from as far away as Kalgoorlie, some two thousand kilometers on the other side of the Great Sandy, to Brisbane and Tamworth, more than three thousand to the southeast. We even had a letter stick returned by one of the southern tribes that—Wait a moment … .” She reached to one side of the crate and retrieved a length of wood perhaps half a meter in length, inscribed with cryptic markings, and held it before the flatscreen’s video pickup lens. “Billy says it was returned by a tribe in Tasmania, accepting our invitation, although I haven’t met them yet.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “They all share Billy’s concerns; they have for years, but never had any way to channel their efforts to do anything about what was happening here. Now they have.

  “These people are so beautiful, Daddy. Their art, the unfettered way they dance and celebrate, their love and affection for their families, the very simplicity of their lives. Even the names of their tribes sound like songs! The Bunuba from near Derby, Billy’s own tribe—the Arunta—the Tiwis from Melville Island, the Mia Mia, the Murinbadda, the Tindaya.” She paused, nearly out of breath, then added softly, from her heart, “I am so grateful that you asked me to come to Australia. We’re doing something wonderful here.”

  Eric’s smile mirrored her own, and as she studied her father’s face she saw a twinkle in his eyes that she had not seen there in some time. “You sound very happy, Cathay.”

  “I am, Daddy.” She grinned like a child, and saw in her reflection in the flatscreen that she needn’t have worried about her appearance. Her face positively glowed. “I’m happier now than I’ve ever been in my life.”

  “And I’m happy for you,” he echoed. “Your smiling face is truly one of the nicest things I’ve seen in days.” He shifted in his seat as he prepared to change the subject.

  “Things are heating up at Tsing, as you might expect,” he went on, his face serious. “I suspect it’s getting downright crowded about now. I’ve authorized no fewer than twenty-two new ships to enter orbit around the planet itself, as well as allowing another even dozen to take position elsewhere in the system. The Sarpan have a ship there, but they seem to be behaving themselves—I don’t think we’ll have any problems from them. And, of course, Brendan and Lewis are there, as is your grandmother.” His smile returned as he added, “She’s looking forward to seeing you when you wrap up there in Kimberley at the end of the month.”

  She didn’t comment on his last statement, but instead asked, “And Jephthah?”

  Eric shrugged. “Nothing. He’s been quiet for weeks.”

  “Well, that’s good news—it’s about time we got a break from him. Although it just makes me think he’s working on something bigger than he usually does, what with all that’s happening at Tsing.”

  The Emperor nodded, sighing in reluctant agreement. “I hope not, but you’re probably right.” He looked to one side, as if called. “Well, I have to go. Take care of yourself, and give my best to Billy.”

  “I will, Daddy. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, honey.”

  The flatscreen faded back to the familiar blue field and crest. A fingertip tapped lightly on the screen winked the power off.

  She sat there for several long moments and stared morosely at the blank flatscreen on the crate. “The end of the month,” she muttered. “Just two more weeks.”

  Cathay rose and crossed the few steps to the door, drawing back the canvas, and gazed down at the corroboree going on below her. She pulled a thin jacket from a peg by the door and walked out into the night, her nostrils filling with the pleasantly acrid smoke from a score of bonfires. As far as she could see, the entire area was laid out in steplike plateaus left over by the mining company as they stripped the ground of the diamondiferous ore that once lay beneath it. At one time, nearly a third of Earth’s annual diamond production had come from this very spot. But that was centuries ago, and the played-out landscape had been given back to the Aborigine and allowed to return to its natural state, leaving a beautiful vista of man-made steps.

  In the distance she could just barely make out Lake Argyle, still filled so soon after the wet season, the moonlight glinting off its tranquil surface. Out of sight over the horizon, the Ord River flowed up past Wyndham into Cambridge Gulf, and from there northward into the Timor Sea itself.

  She hadn’t bothered to bring the lantern with her, but it was easy to see here. The many fires, combined with the full moon and the lantern light spilling from the humpie, cast a pale light that made walking in the outback at this hour less difficult than it would otherwise have been. Pulling the jacket on and pressing the front closed, she walked to one of several large rocks and sat down. Below her, the
corroboree had reached a crescendo, and she watched in rapt fascination for nearly half an hour without moving. There were bonfires everywhere, and around each a different dance was in progress. Here and there were knots of tribesmen sharing tales or trading small belongings and crafts. And among it all, engaged in every manner of Aborigine playabout imaginable, were the children. In and around the hundreds of scattered gunyahs and wurlies erected by their parents, they ran, jumped, and shouted gleefully among the bonfires and makeshift dwellings.

  Would these people ever have survived without Billy? she wondered. In the basic sense, they would certainly have “survived” as far as their lives were concerned, but would their culture have endured? The values Billy held, the values he was so shocked to see disappearing among many of the Arunta, were still strong in at least some members of nearly every tribe. And in a few truly special cases, there remained a handful of tiny clans—particularly in the most remote regions of the Great Sandy and Nullarbor Plain—that still lived almost untouched by Earth’s evolving culture.

  But what Billy was doing—No, she corrected herself, what we are doing—was to bring them together, to let them all know that memories of the Dreamtime endured among them all, no matter the tribe, and that the Song Lines still connected all Aborigine across the great physical distances separating them. Weeks from now, when all that remained of this corroboree would be scattered piles of ashes where the bonfires had once blazed, the message would be carried back to their homes, their peoples, that it did not matter how many Aborigine abandoned their heritage. Because that heritage would outlast their mortal lives, and be waiting for them when they all met again in the Dreamtime.

  Cathay didn’t know why—there had been no sound, no hint of movement that caught her eye—but she looked to one side, and was startled to see a goanna lying on the ground next to her. The lizard was good-sized, nearly a half meter in length, and it was clear that it had been recently killed. So intently did she gaze at the goanna that when the Aborigine standing a few meters behind it became apparent to her it seemed as though he had suddenly popped into existence out of the very air around him.

  Her heartbeat, which had quickened considerably at the surprise, slowed, and she rose and nodded in greeting. She felt no fear of these people.

  Like most Aborigine, he was thin, almost gaunt, and exhibited a full head of thick hair. The man was old and yellow-eyed, the whiteness of his hair matching the thin beard that traced the line of his jaw and chin. He wore nothing but a headband and a thin red strip of cloth around his waist with thinner strips bundled decoratively in a dangling mass below his navel that afforded him little coverage. He was armed: In one hand he carried a spear and woomera, while a boomerang was tucked into one side of the waist belt. It was clear that he had been part of the celebration, as he had decorated his body with smears of white ashes that ran like stripes down his chest and legs. His expressive face had been framed in smears of white and red.

  There was movement behind him and she saw that he was not alone. A nearly naked woman—his lubra—and three young boys that must have been their sons stood silently by, waiting. All three boys assumed the stance typical of desert Aborigine: balancing gracefully on one foot with the other placed on the opposite knee, they reminded Cathay of nothing so much as resting shorebirds. They, too, carried spears and boomerangs, and had decorated themselves in a manner similar to their father’s.

  And there, off to the side, stood Billy.

  “G’day,” he said, almost formally, as he came forward to stand next to the man. It was evident from the single statement that his presence was for the benefit of this family, and that Billy was acting as intermediary. His feet were bare and he wore no shirt over his denim jeans. He, too, had decorated himself with a tracing of white ashes, but he must have done it some hours earlier, as the markings had been rubbed and smudged almost completely off.

  “His name’s Namajira,” Billy continued. “His people are called Yagga, ‘The Quiet.’” He extended his hand in her direction as he turned to Namajira and said by way of presentation, “Cathay Wood.”

  “Tananana turu-etya?” the old man inquired reverently.

  Billy spoke a few words and Namajira nodded in understanding and respect, then bent to pick up the goanna and held it out before him.

  “He wants you to accept his gift,” Billy explained softly. “But, as a sign of his esteem for you, he can’t walk toward you. You must approach him.”

  “Thank you.” Cathay came forward and accepted the offering, ignoring the trickle of the dead animal’s blood that ran down one wrist and forearm.

  A big, pleased grin broke out on Namajira’s face, and he nodded again before rejoining his family. Without a word, the five of them turned and made their way back down the slope toward the corroboree, never looking back.

  Once the family was out of sight, Billy relieved her of the goanna. “Here, I’ll take that. Sorry about the mess,” he said, indicating her hands. “You don’t have to really eat it. Although as far as wild tucker goes, it cooks up better’n most.”

  “No; it’s all right. ‘No worries, ay?’” She wiped her hands casually on her already dirty bush pants. “What was it he said?”

  “He asked if you were the turu-etya, the ‘fire-person.’ I only know one or two dialects other than my own, but I think I’ve learned that word in at least a hundred tongues in the last month.” He removed a canvas sack he had slung over his shoulder, a tucker bag, and dropped the goanna inside, shaking his head in amazement. “You know,” he said, “about a third of the people down there only have a limited knowledge of science and technology, much less current events, and yet word of your presence here has spread among them all.”

  “I see.” She turned, sitting once more on the rock, and stared down at the bonfires again. Billy joined her, sitting cross-legged on the ground next to her. “They think my grandmother is a Sky Hero.”

  “And you, in turn, through her.” Billy chuckled softly in the moonlight. “Ah, it ain’t so bad. You get used to it.”

  She had been concerned that the honor represented by the gift the tribesman had just given her had been ill-placed, but looking at Billy’s face stretched into its characteristic grin erased any misgivings she might have felt.

  “Thank you, Billy.” She reached out her hand and placed it on his shoulder, feeling the strength in the muscles beneath his dark skin. “You almost always seem to know what I’m thinking at any given moment, and then you always say just the right thing.”

  He reached across his chest and took her hand in his. His hands had become callused in the time she had come to know him, but his grasp was warm and gentle. He rubbed the back of her hand against his cheek and lightly kissed her fingers.

  “It’s part of m’job,” he said whimsically, grinning up at her. “But I like the work.”

  Their attention was drawn to a particularly noisy dance taking place at one of the nearer fires, and they both watched wordlessly for several minutes. The air was getting chillier, but as long as Billy held her hand, she didn’t mind the cold.

  “He still thinks I’m leaving at the end of the month,” she said at last. “I spoke to him barely an hour ago, but I didn’t have the strength to tell him I wanted to stay. I’ve already talked with Brendan and Lewis about the possibility of my staying here. I know I have their support for any decision I make in this, but …”

  Billy nodded in comprehension. “Will you be goin’ then?”

  She turned away from him and gazed out over the fires, not answering for several moments. “No,” she replied finally, not taking her eyes from the activity below. “What we’re doing here is every bit as important as what’s happening at Tsing. I know that now. I’m just not sure what more I could offer there.”

  Billy said nothing in response, leaving her for the moment alone with her thoughts, but she knew he agreed. They had had long conversations, some late into the night, about what was being accomplished here, and they both agreed th
at the task was nowhere near completed.

  “I’ll let Brendan and Lewis know right away, while I try to work up the courage to tell my father. Besides …” She started to say something else, then thought better of it. Instead, she turned and kissed him warmly, drinking in the mixed scent of smoke and outdoors that she associated with him. She pulled away reluctantly and rose, smiling softly down at him, and let her fingers slip from his grasp.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Cathay walked quietly over to the humpie, pulled back the canvas door and disappeared inside.

  Billy turned back to the corroboree below him, reveling in the guttural, rhythmic music sweeping up the slope in his direction. A soft wind came up from the south, carrying with it the howl of a dingo baying at the moon as it rose still higher in the night sky. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back to the heavens, listening to the dingo’s Song, and noted the other sounds of the night: a bird, the occasional buzz of an insect, the incessant chirping of crickets.

  And then, from the humpie, came another sound, faintly audible over the fanfare of the celebrants. But unlike the natural sounds of the outback, this one was obtrusively artificial, man-made:

  The beep of a flatscreen tablet being set into communication mode.

  20

  A LITTLE KNOWLEDGE

  Adela shivered, thrusting her hands deep into the pockets of the hooded parka they had given her down at South Camp. The air had grown steadily colder as they ascended the rise, but it was neither the dropping temperature nor the unremitting wind whistling through the trees that chilled her—the vigorous hike they had been on for the last fifteen minutes had actually sent a trickle of sweat down her back. Rather, the chill she felt as they waited here for the xenoguide to return was from the anticipation now coursing through her. Trying to control her excitement, she wished again that security reasons had not prevented the landing shuttle from touching down closer to the edge of the river valley.