The Last Starry Night

“And so,” said the Warrior, finishing its story, “the president decided that it was really the best chance they had. We sent a message to the Warrior commanders saying that we believed that humans should be brought before the Beast for judgment. The Warrior commanders agreed, since to refuse would cause them to lose face before the interstellar community.”

“What about Grandma?” asked Azzie.

“She is still a hostage of the Warriors. The Shamans are trying to negotiate her release.”

“Who will be judged by the Beast?” asked Srini.

The Warrior turned its three eyes on her. “The Beast chooses which members of the species will undergo judgment. The Beast chose the humans who are here in this room – Azalea, Johnny, Ngoc, Gwen, and yourself.”

“Me?” said Gwen. “Do some kind of, uh, test? Look, you don’t understand, that’s not a good thing. I mean, will it be multiple choice?”

“Why us?” asked Azzie.

“No one knows,” said the Warrior. “The Beast makes its own choices.”

“I just want to go home,” said Azzie.

“You must understand,” said another Warrior. “The Beast has chosen y’all to represent the Earth. If y’all refuse to undergo judgment, the Warriors will continue their invasion. Y’all are free to refuse. But y’all must understand the consequences.”

Azzie nodded. The Warrior looked at the other human children.

“I will do it,” said Srini.

“This is a bad idea,” said Gwen. “But ok.”

The Warrior nodded. “Your species is very interesting,” it said. “Militarily weak and technologically backward. But y’all seem to have strong ideas of right and wrong.”

“Well thank you,” said Srini. “I was just thinking the exact opposite about your species.”

The Warrior hissed. “I understand why you think that,” it said. “In my species, many individuals have strong ideas about right and wrong, but it is hard to get many of us to agree on them. Other species have sometimes had leaders who control others through the power of their ideas – religious leaders, philosophers, and so forth. For example, your president mentioned a man named Martin Luther King, who believed strongly that slavery was wrong. Your president was comparing the Warriors to slaveholders. This man King influenced many people through his ideas. We have never had anyone like that among the Warriors; we tend to disagree about everything. Our leaders have always controlled others using the military or industry.”

“That’s awful,” said Srini.

“Let the Beast judge you before you judge us,” hissed the Warrior. It rose and stepped away, staring at a wall.

“Good job, Srini,” said Gwen. “Now a big evil reptile alien is angry at us.”

“You should remember something,” said another Warrior. “The four of us will die soon. We are already nearly two days old. By helping y’all, we are taking a chance that we will never have children, and all our memories will die with us. Is that something we would do if we were completely evil?”

“I’m sorry,” said Srini. “I didn’t think about that.”

The Warrior nodded. “Apology accepted.”

After a moment, Azzie went over to where Johnny was sitting next to Mama, holding the burgundy bear tightly.

“You gave the bear to Johnny,” said Azzie.

“Yes,” said Mama.

“Grandma gave the bear to me,” said Azzie.

“And I gave the bear to Johnny,” said Mama.

“I don’t understand,” said Azzie. “This was Daddy’s bear. Grandma wanted me to have it. You took it away from me and locked me on the porch! I don’t understand you at all, Mama.”

Mama just stared at her. Azzie tried to figure out her expression, but it seemed to switch back and forth in her mind between anger and fear. At last Azzie gave up and stared at the floor. She felt like her heart was breaking. But at least Johnny had the bear. At least Mama hadn’t just thrown it away or something.

“What is the Beast?” asked Srini.

“It’s -- well -- no one’s really sure,” said a Warrior. “It’s partly machinery; or maybe machinery keeps it alive. The machinery draws power from a black hole; the world it’s on orbits around the edge of the black hole. It’s huge, the size of a small mountain. It’s sort of embedded in the side of a cliff. It is old, older than it ought to be. There are some parts of it that seem to be older than the universe.”

“Why is it called the Beast?” asked Gwen.

“That’s what it calls itself,” said the Warrior. “It says it is not sentient. It’s just a beast.”

“If it is not sentient,” asked Srini, “how can it judge whether others are sentient?”

“I don’t know. But the Beast can see far into the past and the future. That gives it the right to judge.”

At that moment a Shaman -- was it Two-Tail, Azzie wondered? It was so hard to tell these aliens apart, if they were of the same species -- returned, and said, “We have arrived in the Beast’s system. Would you like to see it?”

“Yes, please,” said Srini.

The Shaman burbled at one of the walls, and it faded away into transparency. Hard bright stars peered in at them; a great curve of planet swept along the bottom edge of the window, mostly rust-red in color, but lit along one edge with amber. Beyond the curve of planet was a great darkness, a swath of sky without any stars at all; there was only the merest suggestion of swirling shadows.

“This is the Beast’s planet,” said the Shaman, “known as the World at the Edge. Beyond it you can see the black hole that the Beast draws its power from.”

“The World at the Edge... of the black hole?” asked Gwen.

“At the edge of the universe,” said the Shaman. “This black hole is known to be a gateway outside of the universe.”

“How do you know that?” asked Srini.

“We have seen it,” said the Shaman quietly. “If one travels through nullspace, one can detect the black hole’s sides reaching away from this universe toward another. Some have tried to get to that universe through nullspace, but have not returned.”

“How does the Beast get power from the black hole?” asked Srini. “Doesn’t a black hole suck everything into it?”

“Tides,” said a Warrior. “The World at the Edge has very high tides. It even has atmospheric tides -- at certain times of the day the air is very thick; other times it is very thin. Because of the gravity of the black hole, you see.”

“Just like the moon and the Earth,” said Srini. “Amazing.”

“The Beast uses huge windmills to draw power from the movement of the air.”

As they talked, a brassy yellow sun peeked up from over the edge of the world, blazing in their eyes. “There is one of the planet’s two suns,” said the Shaman.

“Two suns?” asked Azzie.

“Yes, there are two very small suns that orbit the planet -- one is yellow, as you see, and the other is red; it is behind us.”

“Nothing could be that small and shine like a sun,” said Srini. “Stars have to be heavy enough to burn -- ”

“You’re right,” said the Shaman. “No one knows how they shine, and the Beast refuses to answer. Nevertheless they shine. We will be landing in a few moments.” The Shaman slithered out.

“I don’t know what’s stranger,” said Azzie, “this planet, or the sky sheet.”

“This planet,” said a Warrior with certainty. “There were once dozens of sky sheets, stretching across the entire universe. There is only one World at the Edge.”

“What happened to all the sky sheets?” asked Srini.

“We made too many of them,” said the Warrior. “There were more Warriors on all our sky sheets than there were stars in the universe. But the universe was strained by having so many sky sheets. The universe split and cracked, and the sky sheets were destroyed. So many memories lost...”

“Wow,” said Gwen.

“So, for thousands of years, we lived in the City of Warriors, which you have visited. It is a city built in a toy universe of its own. Now the universe has recovered, and we can begin to build our sky sheets again.”

“But that’s not right,” said Srini. “If you go back to building sky sheets, you’ll just end up splitting and cracking the universe again. You can’t do that.”

“You are judging us again,” hissed the Warrior. “Think! Remember that our population doubles every two days! The City of Warriors is much smaller than one planet. Ask yourself this: how did we have room for all our people in the City for thousands of years?”

Srini’s eyes went wide. “I don’t know,” she said.

“We were killing our children,” said the Warrior. “We had to kill half of our children for thousands of years to keep our population steady. And now you want us to keep doing that? Think before you judge us!”

“I’m so sorry,” said Srini. “I’m so sorry. I always talk before I think.”

“Apology accepted,” said the Warrior. “We are going to build the sky sheets again.”

Srini nodded.

Gwen patted Srini’s hand. “Don’t feel too bad,” she said. “I don’t even think after I talk.”

They dropped lower towards the planet, and they saw that it was mostly mountainous ocher desert, with occasional patches of sage green forest. The ship dropped to a very low altitude, skimming below the mountaintops, so that the ground beneath them became a blur of color. Very fast, a lavender range of mountains rose up in front of them, and the ship leaped over them and down into a rich valley patched with farms. The ship landed in a large grassy field near the edge of a forest.

There were a number of other ships nearby -- perhaps some sort of spaceport. Azzie identified the small black spheres that were the Warrior ships, and the long silver cigar-shaped Shaman ships, as well as other variations on these designs. He saw Warriors flying and walking here and there, and a smaller number of Shamans slithering around.

Two Warriors, two Shamans, and two strange aliens came to escort them out. The new aliens looked like a cross between a turtle and an octopus: six-tentacled, with suckers at the ends of the tentacles, their bodies were broad and flat and covered with a hard shell, and ringed with tiny eyes. The Warriors and the turtle-things carried nullpistols; the Shamans carried nothing. “Please come with us,” said one of the Shamans. “We will lead you to the Beast. You are expected.”

***

They were led out through pastel coral corridors, some of them dripping as if they had recently been filled with water, and emerged onto the plain, where a large car was waiting. It looked much like a human-made car, with wheels and windows near the top, but it was round and apparently could drive in any direction. It appeared to be made mostly of wood and brass. The yellow sun was high. The party got into the car -- there were no chairs, just mats on the floor -- and the car zipped off, with no driver to be seen.

Just a few minutes passed, and then the car stopped at the edge of the plain. They clambered out. They were at the forest that encircled the landing plain. The forest consisted of many different kinds of trees -- tall and short, thick and thin, with bark that was smooth or knobbly, dark or white, or in some cases red and fleshy. The leaves of the trees were of all different shapes as well -- easily as much variation as one might see in a terrestrial forest, triangular, circular, oblong. A wide, well-traveled path, paved with moss, led from the plain away into the forest.

“We must walk to the Beast,” said a Warrior quietly. “The Beast strictly enforces the rule.”

“Why?” asked Srini.

“And how far is it?” asked Gwen.

“The Beast knows that moving without mechanical assistance places one in a contemplative state of mind,” said an odd, lilting voice. Azzie turned and saw that the voice was coming from one of the turtle-things. “A state of mind that is optimal for communicating with the Beast.”

“Excuse me for asking,” said Srini. “But what are you?”

“I am an Artist,” said the turtle-thing.

“A what? An Artist?” asked Gwen.

“That is what we are called,” said the Artist. “Because we spend much of our time creating what other species would call art. It is a short word in your language, for a very rich subject.”

“There are lots of different languages on our world,” said Srini.

“Anyway,” said Gwen, “maybe it’s a short word because we say it a lot.”

“Overuse leads to misuse,” said the Artist dismissively.

“Why are you here with us?” asked Azzie.

“We Artists tend to the Beast. We are telepathic, so it helps us communicate with the Beast. It is a great honor. And it is a great honor to be allowed to speak with the Beast, as you will do.”

“How far a walk is it?” asked Gwen again.

“About three hours,” said a Shaman. “We should begin.”

Azzie had never walked through such beautiful scenery. The forest trees huddled close around them at first, as they walked on the soft mossy path bed, and the sage green in the leaves of the trees caught the brassy sun’s light and scattered it around them, blinking and scintillating in the wind. Every now and again the trees would thin somewhat, and the path would wind through small fields of apple-green grass or short fern-like bushes. Sometimes they would walk through a clearing filled with flowers, small delicate blooms that were so thin and wispy as to be nothing more than a rosy translucence; but their smell was strong, like honey and lime, and small insects buzzed around them, tending the flowers. When the trees thinned Azzie could see the huge lavender mountains in the distance, capped with white. Three times they came to clear rippling brooks, and exquisitely crafted wooden bridges arched over them with simple grace. At the third bridge, one of the Artists pointed out a strut on the bridge that it had made to replace one that had worn away. To Azzie it looked just like all the other struts, but she joined the others in praising it, to be polite.

A gentle wind blew continually through the trees, sometimes quite strong, sometimes just a touch, but always from ahead of them. As time passed, Azzie found that she was breathing harder and harder, although she wasn’t particularly tired. “The air is thinning out,” said a Warrior, “from the black hole’s tides.”

At last they saw an opening in the trees ahead, and the path led them to edge of a cliff. From here the path crawled to the right along the top of the cliff for some distance, and a tremendous landscape spread below them. The yellow sun was setting ahead of them and to the right, behind the trees, and the brassy light was turning to orange, just like a sunset on Earth, casting royal blue shadows. Below them was a river valley -- a broad, meandering river, that swept back and forth along the flat valley bottom, its waters glinting where it wound out of the shadows of the cliffs on either side. The cliff on the other side of the valley was just as tall as the one they were walking along -- perhaps taller -- shadowed along its length with bars of gold and purple, and splashed across the top with a bronze glow. At the foot of the cliff, still a few miles away, they could see a small collection of white buildings, mostly dome-shaped. It was hard for Azzie to gauge their size.

Then Azzie saw something so beautiful, so strange, that she never wanted to look away. She stopped on the path, high over the valley, and stared until her friends dragged her on. The opposite cliff face, its stone glowing amber in the sunset, was embedded with a series of seven perfectly regular tremendous clock faces. The clock faces were of various shapes -- circles, rectangles, hexagons-- each at least one hundred stories high. Each clock face was covered with a shiny transparent covering, like glass, that glittered in the sunlight; and under the covering was a dial with hands like a clock -- though some faces had only one hand, some three, and some six; and each hand was as long as a skyscraper.

It was as if some great clockmaker, having found this lovely world to his liking, had decided to build the largest, most exquisitely crafted timepiece in the world into the living rock.

“Behold the Beast,” said the Artist. Azzie didn’t know what to say. No one else said anything, either.

When at last they dragged their eyes away and went on, the path grew somewhat rockier, and began to carry them down into the valley, in a long gentle slope that hugged the cliff side. A walk of twenty minutes brought them to the valley bottom directly opposite the small cluster of domes. The huge faces of the Beast loomed over them. The valley was cultivated; they passed through fields of short blue-leafed trees bearing some kind of large green fruit. As they walked through the valley the yellow sun finally set on their right, falling right between the cliffs from their vantage point; and the red sun rose to their left. The landscape was an explosion of wine red and carrot orange, edged with royal blue shadows.

They crossed the wide lazy river over an arched stone bridge that carried them high over the landscape, and then they descended into the cluster of domed buildings. These seemed to be made of smoothed stone, covered with lichen of various colors and climbing vines. Most of the buildings had windows filled with inviting, warm light.

“Welcome to the Beast’s Town,” said the Artist. “We will attend a ceremonial dinner, and then sleep. When the yellow sun rises, you will be brought before the Beast.”

“When the yellow sun rises,” said a Warrior, “we will be dead. I am sorry that I am too old to have children. I would have liked the memory of this walk to be passed on to future generations. I am as much at peace now as I have ever been.”

“The walk to the Beast is one of the greatest pleasures in the universe,” said the Artist quietly. “Be grateful that you were granted the honor, and die in peace.”

“My feet hurt,” whispered Gwen to Azzie.