The Carpet Makers (30 page)

“You must remember that up to that time, we were only a small expedition fleet: one heavy and three light cruisers, along with twenty-five expedition boats. So we waited for the arrival of the battle units approved by the Council; we attacked the station and finally occupied it with relatively minor casualties. It turned out that the black hole was actually the portal field of an enormous transdimension tunnel, large enough to accommodate oversize transport ships. For tens of thousands of years, every one of the hair carpets produced in the Gheera galaxy had gone into that tunnel.”

Lamita knew that she was good-looking; she was slender, with long, blond hair and incredibly long legs. There was not a man who didn’t turn his head when she walked by. Her appearance couldn’t be the reason she had been alone so long. She wondered what it was that was wrong with her.

“We seized a transport ship returning from the tunnel. It was loaded with empty containers, apparently intended for hair carpets. After careful study and consideration, we decided to risk a flight through the dimension tunnel with a complete battle unit. And we discovered a solar system everyone believed no longer existed, because it couldn’t be found where the star maps indicated it should be. We found the planet Gheerh.”

Borlid was completely forgotten. Now the story was riveting. Gheerh had presumably once been the center of a great realm, the Kingdom of Gheera, before the Emperor’s fleets attacked and conquered it … in order to incorporate it into the Empire … but then, inexplicably, to isolate it from the rest of the Empire and forget it again.

“The solar system was located in an immense bubble, a dimension chamber, and the tunnel we used was the only access. That was why we didn’t find Gheerh at the location indicated on the star maps. We believed it had been destroyed, when, in fact, it had been removed from our universe into a bubble in another dimension. You could say that it had been encapsulated in its own little universe, in which there were no other stars but Gheerh’s own sun. This bubble was maintained by control stations on the planet closest to that sun; they tapped the sun itself as the source for their enormous energy requirements. These stations were guarded by heavily armed and extremely maneuverable battleships, which attacked us as soon as we entered the bubble. Since they cut off our retreat, we responded with attacks on the bubble stabilization units of the control stations and destroyed so many of them that the solar system tumbled back into our common universe. It returned to its original location, and when the rest of our battle units came to our aid, we finally succeeded in neutralizing the enemy forces and occupying the planet Gheerh.”

Karswant paused. For the first time, he seemed to grasp about for the appropriate words.

“I have seen many curious things in my life,” he continued haltingly, “and most people who know me say I am not easily rattled. But Gheerh…”

The projector image showed a largely monochrome gray planet, on which there were almost no oceans. Only in the vicinity of the poles could slight color variations be detected.

“We found several million aboriginal inhabitants eking out a primitive life under pitiful conditions. And we found several hundred thousand men, who believed they were Imperial Troops, waging a merciless genocidal war against those people. Step by step, they were working their way forward—killing, burning, and butchering—and inexorably extending their borderline. Somewhat less than one fourth of the planet surface is still inhabited by the natives, and that area is mostly in the desolate inhospitable polar regions.”

“We would hope you’ve put an end to this ruthless war!” one of the councilors thundered.

“Of course,” the general replied. “We were able to halt an assault that had just begun.”

One councilor raised her hand. “General, you stated that the native inhabitants had been driven together over the course of time onto one fourth of the planet’s surface. What about the other three quarters?”

Karswant nodded. “The area emancipated from the troops, so to speak, amounts to approximately two thirds of the land mass of the planet, and…”

He paused again and looked slowly around the hall, as though he were seeking help from some quarter. When he finally began to speak again, his voice had lost its usual military edge; it seemed as though Jerom Karswant, the man, was now speaking.

“I admit that I have dreaded this moment. How in the world can I describe what we saw? How can I describe it so that you will believe me? I didn’t even believe my commanding officers, men to whom I would entrust my life without hesitation. Instead, I had to land there to see it for myself. And even then, I didn’t want to believe what my own eyes were witnessing.”

He made a vague hand gesture. “During the entire return trip from Gheera, we sat together and went over every detail time and time again, but we were still unable to reach a conclusion. If the whole thing makes any sense, I beg to be initiated into the secret. That is all I really still desire in life—an explanation, a reason for the planet Gheerh.” With that he turned the projector back on, and a film presentation began.

“Every foot of ground won through slaughter or expulsion of the native inhabitants was promptly leveled and paved over by the engineering personnel, which numbered nearly five hundred thousand men. After the fighting forces had moved on, the surface created in this manner was covered with hair carpets. In the course of many millennia, the Emperor’s men had covered two thirds of the entire planet’s surface with hair carpets.”

One of the councilors broke the bewildered silence; he cleared his throat and asked, “Are you suggesting, General, that the hair carpets were all produced, in order to cover a
planet
with them?”

“That is what one sees on an overflight of Gheerh. Wherever one goes, hair carpets, edge to edge, with no visible trace of the original ground beneath them. Broad plains, deep valleys, high mountains, coastlines, hills, slopes—everything, everything covered with carpets.”

The assembly watched the projected images, which confirmed the general’s statements, with fascination.

“But that’s insane,” someone finally said. “What purpose could something like that serve?”

Karswant shrugged his shoulders in a helpless gesture. “We don’t know. And we can’t imagine any possible rationale for it.”

Animated discussions erupted among the session participants, which the chairman of the Provisional Council brought under control with a commanding wave of the hand. “You are right, General Karswant. It certainly is difficult to believe,” he declared. “It’s surely the most unbelievable thing I’ve ever heard.” He paused for a moment. It was apparent that he was having difficulty getting a grasp on what he wanted to say. “We cannot possibly all fly to Gheera, even though I, quite honestly, feel the need to do so. We will simply try to believe you, General.”

He seemed positively stunned as he abruptly fell silent again and looked aimlessly about. Everyone in the hall seemed dazed.

“Whatever the explanation for all of this may be,” he continued, obviously trying to take charge of the situation again, “we will find it in the historical records. I am pleased that our charming Lamita Terget Utmanasalen is present today—one of the best historians we have. She administers the Imperial Archive, and perhaps she understands this better than we do?”

At that, Lamita stood and turned in all directions, nervous to be the center of attention so unexpectedly. “I’m sorry that I’m unable to say anything about the matter,” she responded after the chairman nodded to her. “No references to the hair carpets have yet been found in the Archive. That doesn’t mean that they do not exist. The organizational system is still something of a mystery. And the Archive encompasses the entire Imperial Age, and so, of course, it is enormous.…”

“Lamita, you are relieved of all other responsibilities,” the chairman interrupted. “For the time being, concern yourself with nothing but this matter.”

Thanks a lot, Lamita thought with annoyance as she took her seat again. Alone. Just me and the Archive. He should have given me a staff.

“Our deliberations,” the old councilor quickly continued, “should be concerned with the present and the future. The inhabitants of Gheera must be educated, faith in the Emperor must be eliminated, and a new political order must be established. I could imagine a successful transformation of Gheera into an independent federation by using the model of the provinces of Baquion and Tempesh-Kutaraan.”

Lamita barely paid attention to the subsequent political discussion. The politics of the day didn’t interest her. What captivated her were historical events and developments and the millennia that preceded them. In her thoughts, she was searching through the Archive again and trying for the thousandth time to unlock the secret of its organization, but she came up with nothing new. She was relieved when the meeting finally closed.

Borlid caught up with her before she was able to get out of the hall.

“Lamita, I have to speak with you a moment.”

She folded her arms, holding her files like a shield in front of her chest. “Yes?”

“You’ve been avoiding me for weeks. I want to know why.”

“Have I?”

“Yes. I ask if you want to have dinner with me, and you just…”

She sighed. “Borlid, let’s not pretend. You want more from me than eating dinner together. And I am just not interested. So it would be unfair to accept your invitation. And stressful.”

“No chance?”

“No.” She sensed his injured male pride … terrible!

“So there’s another man in your life?”

“And even if that were the case, Borlid—it’s my life, and it’s none of your business.”

*   *   *

She lay on her back, staring at the painted ceiling over her bed. The wind chime hanging in the open balcony doorway turned gently in the night breeze, and delicate, wistful tones rang out. In the light of the moons, its shadows fell onto the bedcover; other than that, it was dark in the room.

“I turned down one of the most attractive men in the palace,” she said loudly. “And now I’m lying alone in my bed and don’t know what I want.”

A gentle laugh came from seventeen thousand light-years away.

“Since you rejected him, he apparently wasn’t attractive enough, Lamita.”

“Yes, exactly. I find him childish and shallow.”

“But you just said, he’s one of the most attractive men—”

“Well, yes. Many women find him appealing.”

That laugh again. “It seems to me, dear sister, that you still think the important thing is to become like everybody else. In reality, the important thing is to become
different
from the others, to discover your uniqueness. You’re a rebel by birth, but that doesn’t mean much. Your own rebellion is still ahead of you.”

Lamita wrinkled her nose while she tried to understand what these comments were supposed to mean. Her older sister loved to spout cryptic maxims and then leave it to her conversation partner to make sense of them—or not.

“Sarna, what’s wrong with me? Why am I alone?” Lamita pouted.

“What’s your problem with being alone?

“It’s boring. Unsatisfying.”

“Worrying?” Sarna dug deeper.

“That, too,” Lamita had to admit reluctantly.

“How long has it been since you were with a man?”

“Long. It was so long ago, I can hardly remember it. And besides, it was awful. I felt like a nanny caring for a child.”

“But because it was so long ago,” her sister surmised, “you’ve had time to forget it. So that can’t be the problem. Lamita, which one of the men around you do you find exciting, fascinating?

“None of them,” Lamita shot back.

“Think it over carefully.”

Lamita hastily reviewed all the young men who were somewhat tolerable and with whom she had contact. All of them boring. “There’s not much to think over. Really, there’s nobody.”

“I don’t buy that. Based on my experience with the effects of our hormones”—Lamita had to admit that her sister’s experience in this area was extensive, and was, in fact, the reason she had called her up—“I think that’s impossible. I’m convinced there’s somebody. There’s a man there who fascinates you and whose presence makes you moist between your legs. You just won’t admit it to yourself. Maybe he’s married, or he’s ugly, or there’s some other reason—but somehow you’ve blocked him out of your consciousness. But he’s there. And that’s why none of the others interest you.” Pause. “Well, does that bring anybody to mind?”

Absent-mindedly, Lamita brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. Yes, there was something. She sensed a place in her mind, where there was resistance, a blind spot, a self-made barrier. If she could just put aside all her taboos for a moment, then … No. That was out of the question. What would they say about her, if she …

What would the others say? There it was! It was an astonishing thought for someone who considered herself a rebel, wasn’t it? She almost became angry at herself, but she was still proud of catching herself at her own tricks.

“Actually, there is a man…,” she began reluctantly.

“I told you so,” Sarna said with great satisfaction.

“But it’s still impossible. Not with him.”

“Why not?” her sister pried gleefully.

“He is much older than I am.”

“It must be a family trait. After all, our father wasn’t exactly a boy when he met our mother.”

“And he’s an incurable devotee of the Emperor.”

“That will guarantee some lively discussions,” Sarna commented with amusement. “Anything else?”

Lamita mulled it over. “No,” she finally sighed. “But now I really don’t know what I should do.”

“You don’t?” her sister was amused. “I’ll bet you know exactly.”

*   *   *

This state of mind was not new to her—this absolute decisiveness, this determination to act, to be courageous, and not to allow obstacles to dissuade her. She also knew that it was important to take advantage of this decisiveness while it lasted.

She couldn’t even think about sleep. She dressed quickly and phoned the Imperial Archive. After a brief time, the archivist answered.