Vonda mcintyre, p.1
Vonda McIntyre, page 1
This first collection of stories by Vonda N. McIntyre is a dazzling flight of future worlds and future times from the creative imagination of one of our leading sf writers.
Three major novellas are the backbone of this collection:
—“Aztecs,” nominated for both Nebula and Hugo awards, about an interstellar culture in which the author reveals what human beings are willing to endure for the sake of space flight.
—“Screwtop,” first published in Robert Silverberg’s collection, The Crystal Ship, a tale of comradeship and sacrifice on a distant prison planet.
—“Of Mist, and Grass, and Sand,” the story of a healer in a not-too-distant future, which won a Nebula in this form, and was honored again when the author carried her story forward in the novel Dreamsnake, called by Ursula LeGuin “a book like a mountain stream—fast, clean, clear, exciting, beautiful.”
Here are stories with all the modulations of human winged flight, like the opening “Fireflood” with its winged and earthbound races; of compassion between the weak and the strong; of love between youth and age or under the oppressor’s heel. Here are the inhuman machines rendered partially human by extension in living blood and nerve.
These tales evoke complete and different worlds, and leave the reader hoping for more.
VONDA N. McINTYRE brings to her writing a strong background in biology and genetics. She organized the Clarion/West Writers Workshop and was writer-in-residence for similar groups. She belongs to several feminist organizations and to the Cousteau Society.
The Exile Waiting, her first novel, appeared in 1975 as an original paperback and was promptly selected by the Science Fiction Book Club. With Susan Janice Anderson, she edited the collection Aurora: Beyond Equality. Her prize-winning Dreamsnake was published in 1978.
The short stories in this collection have appeared in Analog and the Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, as well as original anthologies like Orbit, Quark, 2076: The American Tricentennial, The Crystal Ship and others.
Born in Kentucky and raised on the east coast, Vonda N. McIntyre now lives in the Pacific Northwest.
Jacket painting by Charles Shields
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
2 Park Street, Boston, Massachusetts 02107
Books by Vonda N. Mclntyre
THE EXILE WAITING
DREAMSNAKE
FIREFLOOD AND OTHER STORIES
Copyright © 1979 by Vonda N. Mclntyre
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
Mclntyre, Vonda N
Fireflood and other stories.
CONTENTS: Fireflood.—Of mist, and grass, and sand.—Spectra.—Wings, [etc.]
I. Title.
PZ4.M1526Fi [PS3563.A3125] 813'.5'4 79-17774
ISBN 0-395-28422-8
Printed in the United States of America
S 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
The following stories in this collection have been previously published:
“Of Mist, and Grass, and Sand” was first published in Analog. “Spectra” was first published in Damon Knight’s Orbit II: An Anthology of New Science Fiction Stories, published by G. P. Putnam’s Sons. “Wings” was first published in The Alien Condition, edited by Stephen Goldin, published by Ballantine Books. “The Mountains of Sunset, the Mountains of Dawn” was first published in Fantasy & Science Fiction. “The End’s Beginning” was first published in Analog. “Screwtop” was first published in The Crystal Ship, edited by Robert Silverberg, published by Thomas Nelson, Inc. “Only at Night” was first published in Clarion, edited by Robin Scott Wilson, published by New American Library. “Recourse, Inc.” was first published in Alternities, edited by David Gerrold, published by Dell. “The Genius Freaks” was first published in Damon Knight’s Orbit 12, published by G. P. Putnam’s Sons. “Aztecs” was first published in 2076: The American Tricentennial, edited by Edward Bryant, published by Pyramid Books. “Fireflood” was first published in Fantasy & Science Fiction.
To Frances Collin
Contents
Fireflood
Of Mist, and Grass, and Sand
Spectra
Wings
The Mountains of Sunset, the Mountains of Dawn
The End’s Beginning
Screwtop
Only at Night
Recourse, Inc.
The Genius Freaks
Aztecs
Fireflood
DARK moved slowly along the bottom of a wide, swift river, pushing against its current. The clean water made long bubbling strokes over her armor, and round stones scraped against her belly scales. She could live here, hidden in rapids or pools, surfacing every few hours to replenish her internal supplies of oxygen, looking little different from a huge boulder. In time she could even change the color of her armor to conform perfectly to the lighter, grayer rock of this region. But she was moving on; she would not stay in the river long enough to alter her rust-red hue.
Vibrations warned her of rapids. She took more care with her hand- and footholds, though her own mass was her main anchor. Stones rumbling gradually downstream did not afford much purchase for her claws. The turbulence was treacherous and exciting. But now she had to work harder to progress, and the riverbed shifted more easily beneath her. As the water grew swifter it also became more shallow, and when she sensed a number of huge boulders around her, she turned her back to the flow and reared up above the surface to breathe.
The force of the current sent water spraying up over her back, forming a curtain that helped conceal her. She breathed deeply, pumping air through her storage lungs, forcing herself not to exceed her body’s most efficient absorption rate. However anxious she was to get underwater again, she would do herself no good if she used more oxygen than she stored during the stop.
Dark’s armor, though impenetrable and insensitive to pain, detected other sensations. She was constantly aware of the small point of heat—call it that, she had no more accurate word—in the center of her spinal ridge. It was a radio transceiver. Though she could choose not to hear its incoming messages, it sent out a permanent beacon of her presence that she could not stop. It was meant to bring aid to her in emergencies, but she did not want to be found. She wanted to escape.
Before she had properly caught her breath, she sensed the approach of a helicopter, high above and quite far away. She did not see it: the spray of water glittered before her shortsighted eyes. She did not hear it: the rush of the river drowned out all other sounds. But she had more than one sense that had as yet no name.
She let herself sink beneath the water. An observer would have had to watch a single boulder among many to see what had happened. If the searchers had not homed in on the transmitter she could still get away.
She turned upstream again and forged ahead toward the river’s source.
If she was very lucky, the helicopter was flying a pattern and had not actually spotted her transmitter at all. That was a possibility, for while it did not quite have the specificity of a laser, it worked on a narrow beam. It was, after all, designed to send messages via satellite.
But the signal did not pass through water and even as the searchers could not detect her, she could not see or feel them through the rough silver surface of the river. Trusting her luck, she continued on.
The country was very different from where she had trained. Though she was much more comfortable underground than underwater, this land was not ideal for digging. She could survive as well beneath liquid, and travel was certainly quicker. If she could not get to the surface to breathe, the time it would take her to stop and extract oxygen directly was about the same. But the character of water was far too constant for her taste. Its action was predictable and its range of temperature was trivial compared to what she could stand. She preferred to go under ground, where excitement spiced the exploration. For, though she was slow, methodical, and nearly indestructible, she was an explorer. It was just that now she had nowhere to explore.
She wondered if any of her friends had made it this far. She and six others had decided, in secret, to flee. But they offered each other only moral support; each had gone out alone. Twenty more of her kind still remained scattered in their reserve, waiting for assignments that would never come and pretending they had not been abandoned.
Though it was not yet evening, the light faded around her and left the river bottom gray and black. Dark slowly and cautiously lifted her eyes above the water. Her eyes peered darkly from beneath her armor. They were deep blue, almost black, the only thing of beauty about her: the only thing of beauty about her after or before her transformation from a creature who could pass for human to one who could not. Even now she was not sorry to have volunteered for the change. It did not further isolate her; she had always been alone. She had also been useless. In her new life, she had some worth.
The riverbed had cut between tall, thick trees that shut out much of the sunlight. Dark did not know for certain if they would interfere with the radio signal as well. She had not been designed to work among lush vegetation and she had never studied how her body might interact with it. But she did not believe it would be safe for her to take a quiet stroll among the giant cedars. She tried to get her bearings, with sun time and body memory. Her ability to detect magne
Dark submerged again and followed the river upward, keeping to its main branch. As she passed the tributaries that ran and rushed to join the primary channel the river became no more than a stream itself, and Dark was protected only by thin ripples.
She peered out again.
The pass across the ridge lay only a little ahead and above her, just beyond the spring that created the river. To Dark’s left lay a wide field of scree, where a cliff and hillside had collapsed. The river flowed around the pile, having been displaced by tons of broken stone. The rubble stretched on quite a way, at least as far as the pass and, if she were lucky, all the way through. It was ideal. Sinking barely underwater, she moved across the current. Beneath her feet she felt the stones change from rounded and water-worn to sharp and freshly broken. She reached the edge of the slope, where the shattered rock projected into the river. On the downstream side she nudged away a few large stones, set herself, and burrowed quickly into the shards.
The fractured crystalline matrix disrupted her echo perception. She kept expecting to meet a wall of solid rock that would push her out and expose her, but the good conditions existed all the way through the pass. Then, on the other side, when she chanced a peek out into the world, she found that the texture of the ground changed abruptly on this side of the ridge. When the broken stone ended, she did not have to seek out another river. She dug straight from the scree into the earth.
In the cool dry darkness, she traveled more slowly but more safely than in the river. Underground there was no chance of the radio signal’s escaping to give her away. She knew exactly where the surface was all the time. It, unlike the interface of water and air, did not constantly change. Barring the collapse of a hillside, little could unearth her. A landslide was possible, but her sonar could detect the faults and weaknesses in earth and rock that might create a danger.
She wanted to rest, but she was anxious to reach the flyers’ sanctuary as quickly as she could. She did not have much farther to go. Every bit of distance might make a difference, for she would be safe only after she got inside the boundaries…She could be safe there from normal people: what the flyers would do when she arrived she could not say.
Dark’s vision ranged much farther through the spectrum than it had when she was human. In daytime she saw colors, but at night and underground she used infrared, which translated to distinguishable and distinctive shades of black. They were supposed to look like colors, but she saw them all as black. They told her what sort of land she was passing through and a great deal about what grew above. Nevertheless, when the sun went down she broke through thick turf and peered around at the forest. The moon had not yet risen, and a nearby stream was almost as dark as ice. The fir trees kept the same deep tone as in bright sunlight. Still, all the colors were black.
Dark breathed deeply of the cold air. It was stuffy underground, though she had not had to switch to reducing her own oxygen. That was for deeper down, in altogether more difficult regions.
The air smelled of moss and ferns, evergreen trees, and weathered stone. But under it all was the sulfurous volcano, and the sweet delicate fragrance of flyers.
Sinking down into the earth once more, Dark traveled on.
The closer Dark got to the volcano, the more jumbled and erratic grew the strata. Lava flows and land movement, glaciers and erosion had scarred and unsettled and twisted the surface and all that lay beneath it. Deep underground Dark encountered a tilted slab of granite, too hard for her to dig through quickly. She followed it upward, hoping it would twist and fold back down again. But it did not, and she broke through topsoil into the chill silence of a wilderness night. Dirt and pebbles fell away from her shoulder armor. From the edge of the outcropping she looked out, in infrared, over her destination.
The view excited her. The tree-covered slope dropped to tumbled masses of blackened logs that formed the first barrier against intrusion into the flyers’ land. Beyond, at the base of the volcano, solidified lava created another wasteland. The molten rock had flowed from the crater down the flank of the mountain; near the bottom it broke into two branches which ran, one to each side, until both ended like true rivers, in the sea. The northern shore was very close, and the pale nighttime waves lapped gently on the dim cool beach. To the south the lava had crept through a longer sweep of forest, burning the trees in its path and toppling those beyond its heat, for a much longer distance to the ocean. The wide solid flood and the impenetrable wooden jumble formed a natural barricade. The flyers were exiled to their peninsula, but they stayed there by choice. The humans had no way of containing them short of killing them. They could take back their wings or chain them to the ground or imprison them, but they wished to isolate the flyers, not murder them. And murder it would be if they denied the creatures flight.
The basalt streams glowed with heat retained from the day, and the volcano itself was a softly radiant cone, sparkling here and there where upwellings of magma approached the surface. The steam rising from the crater shone brightly, and among its clouds shadows soared in spirals along the edges of the column. One of the shadows dived dangerously toward the ground, risking destruction, but at the last moment it pulled up short to soar skyward again. Another followed, another, and Dark realized they were playing a game. Entranced, she hunched on the ridge and watched the flyers play. They did not notice her. No doubt they could see better than she, but their eyes would be too dazzled by the heat’s luminous blackness to notice an earthbound creature’s armor-shielded warmth.
Sound and light burst upon her like explosions. Clearing the ridge that had concealed it, a helicopter leaned into the air and ploughed toward her. Until this moment she had not seen or heard or sensed it. It must have been grounded, waiting for her. Its searchlights caught and blinded her for a moment, till she shook herself free in an almost automatic reaction and slid across the bare rock to the earth beyond. As she plunged toward the trees the machine roared over her, its backwash blasting up a cloud of dirt and leaves and pebbles. The copter screamed upward, straining to miss treetops. As it turned to chase her down again, Dark scuttled into the woods.
She had been careless. Her fascination with the volcano and the flyers had betrayed her, for her stillness must have convinced the humans that she was asleep or incapacitated.
Wondering if it would do any good, she burrowed into the earth. She felt the helicopter land, and then the lighter vibrations of footsteps. The humans could find her by the same technique, amplifying the sounds of her digging. From now on they did not even need her beacon.
She reached a boundary between bedrock and earth and followed its lessened resistance. Pausing for a moment, she heard both movement and its echoes. She felt trapped between sounds, from above and below. She started digging, pushing herself until her work drowned out all other noises. She did not stop again.
The humans could move faster down the steep terrain than she could. She was afraid they would get far enough ahead of her to dig a trench and head her off. If they had enough equipment or construction explosives, they could surround her, or simply kill her with the shock waves of a shaped charge.
She dug violently, pushing herself forward, feeling the debris of her progress slide over her shoulder armor and across her back, filling in the tunnel as quickly as she made it. The roots of living trees, springy and thick, reached down to slow her. She had to dig between and sometimes through them. Their malleable consistency made them harder to penetrate than solid rock, and more frustrating. Dark’s powerful claws could shatter stone, but they tangled in the roots and she was forced to shred the tough fibers a few strands at a time. She tired fast, and she was using oxygen far more quickly than she could take it in underground.
Dark slashed out angrily at a thick root. It crumbled completely in a powdery dust of charcoal. Dark’s momentum, meeting no resistance, twisted her sideways in her narrow tunnel. She was trapped. The footsteps of the humans caught nearly up to her, and then, inexplicably, stopped. Scrabbling frantically with her feet and one clawed hand, her left front limb wedged uselessly beneath her, she managed to loosen and shift the dirt in the small enclosed space. Finally, expecting the humans to start blasting toward her at any moment, she freed herself.
