Quofum by Alan Dean Foster
Their absence made perfect sense to Haviti. There was no need for the complex to be on guard against wandering organic components that had by now become part of its own structure.
Then there came a day, quite unexpectedly, when certain things were revealed.
They were strolling, purposefully and without fatigue, through a forest of spiraling crystals of varying color and refractivity. Above the crystalline spires fist-sized balls of energy were sparking briskly back and forth. The forest might have been a mechanism for channeling power, an advanced apparatus for analyzing the underlying nature of matter, or a game akin to chess. They had no way of knowing.
What they did know was that without warning or preamble, their surroundings suddenly went dark.
It was the first time—indeed, the only time—that the light had gone out since they had originally entered that long-forgotten, long-since-left-behind tunnel. Confused and bewildered, they used the sound of their voices to draw anxiously close to one another.
“What now?” an uneasy N’kosi murmured.
“Patience.” Valnadireb’s terranglo was calm and steady as always. “Illumination will return.”
“I wish I possessed your sense of certainty,” the other xenologist muttered.
“I have no choice but to be certain,” the thranx replied evenly. “To believe otherwise would, I think, lead quickly to madness.”
Something had attracted Haviti’s attention from the moment the light had died. Perhaps her vision had become more sensitive than that of her companions. Or maybe she just happened to be looking in the right direction at the right time.
“I see something.”
“Where?” N’kosi asked. She sensed that her friend was very close to her.
A moment more and he did not have to ask for directions, nor did Valnadireb. The burgeoning glow became visible to both of them.
From a bright pinpoint in the distance the light expanded until it filled the space directly in front of them. Images had begun to materialize within the darkness. No sound accompanied them. Their appearance did not violate the interminable stillness and silence of the underground world.
No accompaniment was necessary. As trained scientists they had no difficulty comprehending or interpreting what they were seeing. It was an unmistakable panoply of biological progression. Not an allegory, but a realistic representation of the evolutionary modus as it was being played out on Quofum.
First came the empty, waiting, open world that all but begged to be seeded with life. Single-celled creatures appeared, swiftly multiplied, advanced and fractured and fledged. Since the presentation was not taking place in real time Haviti and her colleagues had no way of judging the pace of the process. They did, however, appreciate the incredible variety of developing life-forms and the insane speed with which they emerged, diverged, and speciated. Haviti let out a little cry of recognition when the ancestors of her seals first appeared. All three of them identified the progenitors of the fuzzies and the spikers, the stick-jellies and the hardshells.
A cavalcade of other intelligent races rose and fell. Some, like those who had built the sunken city Haviti had explored, achieved admirable levels of refinement before falling back, overcome by disease, war, internal dissension, or their own lack of drive. Most never reached such heights.
The depiction of Quofum’s wildly diverse evolution abruptly vanished, to be replaced by a portrayal of one species. Individually they were small and physically unimpressive; multiarmed, soft-bodied creatures who moved about on a quartet of sticky pseudopods. Their four eyes were horizontal in shape with matching longitudinal pupils. What they lacked in size and physical strength they made up for according to their description with a ferocious intelligence, curiosity, and intensity.
Representations of individual star systems appeared, then entire galactic arms. The inoffensive but dynamic beings were shown spreading from system to system. Their persistent inquisitiveness led them to explore ever farther outward in every direction. Then one of their earliest, most far-reaching probes encountered something outside the Milky Way. Something immense, something inconceivably vast. Something evil.
Something coming this way.
The multiarms did not panic. That was not their nature. They deliberated, analyzed, evaluated, and considered. Reaching a decision, they then embarked on not one but on a pair of sophisticated and highly structured schemes for dealing with the unprecedented oncoming menace. These were now depicted in more of the softly shimmering imagery. Haviti and her companions caught their breath at the scope of not one but of both the contemplated solutions.
The first consisted of running away.
The multiarms accomplished this by a means as direct as it was breathtaking in scope. Utilizing everything from chaos theory to a mastery of the hard science of multiple dimensions to a knowledge of the true physical makeup of the universe, they constructed machines that could generate folds between dimensional planes. They then proceeded to move their entire civilization of billions upon billions of souls from the present universe into another. If the universe that contained the impending evil was eventually consumed by it, they would be immune from the resulting catastrophe.
But concurrently with the escape mechanism they employed, they also constructed another device. Accelerated through a dimensionally altered variant of space-minus, it was sent at a velocity faster than one that was even mathematically comprehensible toward a portion of the universe occupied by an astronomical phenomenon known as the Great Attractor. This diffuse concentration of matter some four hundred million light-years across was located two hundred fifty million light-years away from the Commonwealth in the direction of the southern constellation Centaurus, about seven degrees off the plane of the Milky Way—allowing for red-shifting.
The device built by the multiarms arrived there safely, situated itself at the center of the Attractor in the region known to humanxkind as the Norma supercluster—and waited. Waited to be directed at the oncoming threat, and activated. Even though the multiarms had successfully escaped to another universe, they still retained an interest in trying to stop the vast malevolence that threatened to annihilate all the other less fortunate sentient species of the galaxy they had forsaken. In accordance with this desire they had left behind warning devices and accessways to enable them to be alerted in the event of a change in the course or behavior of the Great Evil. They had very recently been so alerted and so warned. In response, they prepared to activate the device now waiting at the center of the Great Attractor.
And failed.
In constructing it and carefully positioning it in the universe they had left behind, they had neglected to append the final means necessary for its activation. In the immensity of time that had subsequently passed, information had been lost, mechanisms no longer required had been forgotten, and the need for backups had been overlooked. Hurriedly (by their standards), they set about trying to reconstruct the vital, indispensable, final component that was necessary for the activation of the galactic defense mechanism they had built. They were still trying.
On Quofum.
Quofum, an unimportant planet that slipped in and out of Commonwealth notice. Quofum, an entire world that was nothing but one long extended attempt to replicate a core element of the solitary device that had been drifting in the center of the Norma supercluster for the preceding four hundred million years. Quofum, where even the incredibly advanced science of the multiarms had so far failed to reproduce the problematical final factor that would allow the half-forgotten instrumentation to become activated and respond to the incoming threat.
Quofum, where their lofty but imperfect science had failed to evolve it.
That, the presentation explained, was the driving force behind Quofum’s outrageous riotous biota, behind its uncontrolled runaway speciation. The multiarms were trying to evolve something that was essential to the activation of their now incredibly ancient apparatus. In the absence of critical long-forgotten knowledge they
In the universe they had departed, the Commonwealth and everything in it would be destroyed. The Great Evil would sweep through and continue on to the next galaxy, and the next, ever onward, all-consuming, until the entire sum of the universe itself was a black and dark and empty place. The multiarms would sorrow for what they had left behind and could not save, and go on with their lives. All this, Haviti and N’kosi and Valnadireb saw, would come to pass.
Unless…
Unless the device the multiarms had left behind in the heart of the distant Norma supercluster could be activated. It preserved its programming, it retained its functionality, it was ready. All it needed was to be triggered.
But not by the three marooned visitors. They had been maintained, and helped, and even improved by the machines of Quofum in the hope that they might provide, if not a solution to the great ongoing conundrum of the previous four hundred million years, at least a hint in the right direction. From their distant and difficult and other-dimensional vantage point the multiarms had been studying both thranx and humans, along with every other intelligent species that had arisen independently in or near the Commonwealth. A few of the most hopeful among the otherwise pessimistic watchers thought they detected the tiniest flicker, the briefest glimmer of promise among both allied species. To date, that was all they had glimpsed. That hope, if little else, remained alive.
The images faded. The all-pervasive illumination returned. Around the three artificially enhanced friends the machine world that underlay the natural world of Quofum hummed silently; kindling development, nudging progress, enhancing evolution among thousands of competing species. Not realizing that some among their kind were already aware of the oncoming Great Evil and were desperately trying to do something about it, Haviti and N’kosi and Valnadireb regretted that the destiny that had overtaken them prevented them from conveying a warning.
“Why show us that,” Haviti wondered in reference to the recently concluded presentation, “and continue to keep us alive?” Her expression was drawn and her tone had turned deeply cynical.
Valnadireb was less scornful, more philosophical. “As you saw. They hope that one day we may be able to offer a useful suggestion.” Gesturing truhands conveyed mild humor. “Even if we cannot ourselves evolve into one.”
Both of them looked over at N’kosi, who was being quiet. Such unusual reticence was enough to prompt an acerbic comment from Haviti. “What’s this, Mosi? Nothing to say, not even on matters of cosmic import?” Bitter humor did not allow her to fully accept everything she had just seen—but it was a useful temporary defense. And a very human one.
“I was just thinking,” her friend and colleague and companion for what was looking more and more like an everlasting future replied, “that those cute little wiggly-limbed supermen are probably experimenting on us even as they’re keeping us alive and well.” His eyes met hers. They still looked plausibly human, as did the essence behind them. “My only regret is that we can’t share what we’ve just seen with Science Central.”
“Perhaps they are better off not knowing,” Valnadireb observed, unaware that the peril in question had already been documented. “There is nothing anyone could do about it. The Commonwealth is prepared and able to defend itself against external threats such as the AAnn. Coping effectively with a maliciousness that is galactic in size and scope, I fear, will remain beyond the capability of both our kind.”
Turning, Haviti resumed walking. As ever, it required barely perceptible effort and no strain. She found herself wishing that there was a way she could hurt herself, could feel real pain once again. It was not to be. The mechanisms the multiarms had left behind would not allow it. She and her friends were too valuable intact. Much of her adult life had been spent in collecting specimens for research and study.
She had never expected to become one herself.
Maybe they’ll get tired of working with us, she mused as she strode along assertively between Moselstrom N’kosi and Valnadireb. Maybe they’ll release us from this planetary laboratory of theirs and let us find the tunnel again. But what good would that do? They would still be trapped, marooned here on Quofum—a world that much of the time could not even be found at the suggested coordinates in the Commonwealth galographics. Which was the better fate? To live on, nourished and maintained by the multiarms’ machines? Or to die a slow and natural death up on the frenzied, chaotic surface?
There was a third possibility, she reminded herself. What if one of the multiarms’ multifarious ongoing evolutionary experiments succeeded? What if the means necessary to trigger the device implanted deep within the Great Attractor was found? If that eventuated, and if successful activation resulted, and if the device worked and the vast onrushing menace was subsequently countered, there would be no more need for them on Quofum. If despite being preoccupied with weightier matters the multiarms deigned to remember their three insignificant humanx experiments, might they not in their scientific brilliance and moral munificence find a way to send them home? Or at least to alert others of their kind to their continued survival and existence on Quofum, thus prompting a possible rescue expedition?
That was the possibility, however remote, however unlikely, that convinced her it was worth staying alive. That was what persuaded her companions to do likewise. She was not particularly proud of her decision. It was entirely selfish. She wanted someone to save the galaxy because in doing so the action might also save her and her friends. Whether that was likely to happen she did not know and had no way of predicting.
She knew only that she and Valnadireb and Moselstrom N’kosi had best continue to get along with one another in their enhanced and transformed states because the wait to learn the final answer was likely to be a long one.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALAN DEAN FOSTER has written in a variety of genres, including hard science fiction, fantasy, horror, detective, Western, historical, and contemporary fiction. He is the author of the New York Times bestseller Star Wars: The Approaching Storm and the popular Pip & Flinx novels, as well as novelizations of several films, including Transformers, Star Wars, the first three Alien films, and Alien Nation. His novel Cyber Way won the Southwest Book Award for Fiction in 1990, the first science fiction work ever to do so. Foster and his wife, JoAnn Oxley, live in Prescott, Arizona, in a house built of brick that was salvaged from an early-twentieth-century miners’ brothel. He is currently at work on several new novels and media projects.
BY ALAN DEAN FOSTER
PUBLISHED BY THE RANDOM HOUSE PUBLISHING GROUP
THE BLACK HOLE
CACHALOT
DARK STAR
THE METROGNOME AND OTHER STORIES
MIDWORLD
NO CRYSTAL TEARS
SENTENCED TO PRISM
STAR WARS®: SPLINTER OF THE MIND’S EYE
STAR TREK® LOGS ONE—TEN
VOYAGE TO THE CITY OF THE DEAD
…WHO NEEDS ENEMIES?
WITH FRIENDS LIKE THESE…
MAD AMOS
THE HOWLING STONES
PARALLELITES
STAR WARS®: THE APPROACHING STORM
IMPOSSIBLE PLACES
EXCEPTIONS TO REALITY
THE ICERIGGER TRILOGY
ICERIGGER
MISSION TO MOULOKIN
THE DELUGE DRIVERS
THE ADVENTURES OF FLINX OF THE COMMONWEALTH
FOR LOVE OF MOTHER-NOT
THE TAR-AIYAM KRANG
ORPHAN STAR
THE END OF MATTER
BLOODHYPE
FLINX IN FLUX
MID-FLINX
REUNION
FLINX’S FOLLY
SLIDING SCALES
RUNNING FROM THE DEITY
TROUBLE MAGNET
PATRIMONY
THE DAMNED
BOOK ONE: A CALL TO ARMS
BOOK TWO: THE FALSE MIRROR
BOOK THREE: THE SPOILS OF WAR
THE FOUNDING OF THE COMMONWEALTH
PHYLOGENESIS
DIRGE
DIUTURNITY’S DAWN
THE TAKEN TRILOGY
LOST AND FOUND
THE LIGHT-YEARS BENEATH MY FEET
THE CANDLE OF DISTANT EARTH
Quofum is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2008 by Thranx, Inc.
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Del Rey Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
DEL REY is a registered trademark and the Del Rey colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Foster, Alan Dean
Quofum / Alan Dean Foster.
p. cm.
1. Humanx Commonwealth (Imaginary organization)—Fiction.
I. Title.
PS3556.O756Q64 2008
813'.54—dc22 2008027590
www.delreybooks.com
eISBN: 978-0-345-50970-3
v3.0
Alan Dean Foster, Quofum