He was nearly two and a half meters tall.
Oh, God. Who are you? What is this place? I thought I was going back in time to Pliocene Earth. But this is not… this can’t be…
“Oh, but it is.” His voice, with a musical lilt, was kind. “My name is Creyn. You are indeed in the time-epoch known as Pliocene and on the planet Earth, which some call Exile and others the Many-Colored Land. You’ve been disoriented by your passage through the time-portal, perhaps more seriously than the rest of your companions. But that’s understandable. I’ve given you a mild strengthening draft that will restore you. In a few minutes, if you please, we’ll talk. Your friends are being interviewed now by people of our staff who welcome all new arrivals. They’re resting in rooms like this one, having a bit of food and drink and asking questions that we’re doing our best to answer. The guardians of the gate alerted me to your distress. They were also able to perceive that you are a most unusual traveler, which is why I am interviewing you myself…”
Elizabeth had closed her eyes again as the man droned easily on. Peace and relief permeated her mind. So there really is a Land of Exile! And I’ve really managed to come into it safely. Now I can forget what I’ve lost. I can build a new life.
She opened her eyes wide. The tall man’s smile had become ironic.
“Your life will certainly be new,” he agreed. “But what is lost?”
You… can hear me.
Yes.
She leaped to her feet, drew breath, cried out in a shattering scream. Vocalization of ecstasy. Life found restored renewed. Gratitude.
Softly! she told herself. Draw back from the pinnacle. Gently. After that first mad interior leap, go cautiously. Reach out at the simplest possible mode, at wide focus, for you are weak with rebirth.
I/we rejoice with you Elizabeth.
Creyn. You permit shallow question?
Shrug.
Elizabeth slipped clumsily beneath the surface of his smile, where a neat reticulation of data waited passively for her study. But the deeper layers were shielded by warning hardness. She snatched up the proffered information and got out quickly. Her throat had gone dry and her heart pounded with the shock of the assimilation. Gently! Gently. Two mental blows within a few minutes on her raw tenderness. Suspend heal allow self redaction. He cannot read deeply or far. But coerce yes. Redact yes most strongly. Other abilities? No data.
She spoke out loud at last in a calm voice. “Creyn, you are not a human being and you are not a true operant metapsychic. These two things contradict my experience, so that I am confused. In the world I come from, only persons with operant metapsychic powers are able to communicate in purely mental speech. And only six races in all our galaxy possess the genes for metability. You belong to none of them. May I probe deeper to learn more about you?”
“I regret that I cannot permit it at this time. Later there will be suitable opportunities for us to… get to know one another.”
“Are there many of your people here?”
“A sufficient number.”
In the split second that he replied she hurled a redactive deep-probe with all her strength right between his pale-blue eyes. It bounced and shattered. She had to cry out with the violence of the rebound, and the man named Creyn laughed.
Elizabeth. That was most impolite. And it won’t work.
Shame. “It was an impulse, a social error I apologize for. In our world, no metapsychic would dream of probing without invitation unless placed in a threat situation. I don’t know what came over me.”
“You’ve been discomposed by the portal.”
Wonderful dreadful pitiless one-way portal! “It’s more than that,” she said, sinking back into the chair. She did a swift tour of her mental defenses. Up and fairly secure, rawness crusting over, familiar patterns reasserting.
“Back on the other side,” she said, “I suffered a serious brain injury. My metafunctions were obliterated in the regeneration process. It was thought that the loss was permanent. Otherwise”, she gave it mental underlining, “I never would have been allowed to cross into Exile. Nor would I have wanted to come.’
We are most fortunate. Welcome from all Tanu.
“You’ve had no other operant metas come through?”
“A group of nearly one hundred arrived abruptly some twenty-seven years ago. I’m sorry to say they were unable to adapt to our local conditions.”
Caution, caution. Wall-up. Elizabeth nodded. “They would have been fugitive rebels. It was a sad time for our Galactic Milieu… Are all of them dead, then? Am I the only operant in Exile?”
Perhaps not for long.
She braced herself on the table, rose and walked closer to him. His amiable expression changed. “It is not our custom to enter lightly into another’s private space. I request you in courtesy to withdraw.”
Polite regret. “I simply wanted to look at your golden collar. Would you take it off so that I can examine it? It seems to be a remarkable piece of craftsmanship.”
Horrors! “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. The golden torc bears a weight of religious symbolism among us. We wear it as long as we live.”
“I think I understand.” She began to smile.
PROBE.
Elizabeth laughed aloud. Now you must apologize Creyn!
Chagrin unease. Regrets Elizabeth. You will take some getting used to.
She turned away. “What will become of me?”
“You’ll go to our capital city, rich Muriah on the White Silver Plain. It lies in the south of this Many-Colored Land. We’ll have a wonderful welcome for you there among the Tanu, Elizabeth.”
She spun around and met his eyes. “Those that you rule. Will they welcome me, too?”
Caution. “They will love you as they love us. Try to suspend judgement on us until you have all of the data. I know that there are aspects of your situation that trouble you now. But have patience. You are in no danger.”
“What happens to my friends? The people who came through the time-portal with me?”
“Some of them will be coming to the capital. Others have already indicated that they prefer to go elsewhere. We’ll find good places for all of them. They’ll be happy.”
Happy ruled? Unfree?
“We do rule, Elizabeth, but kindly. You’ll see. Don’t judge until you see what we’ve done with this world. It was nothing, and we’ve transformed it, just this little corner, into something marvelous.”
It was too much… her head began to throb again and vertigo came. She dropped back into the soft cushions of the bench. “Where, where did you come from? I know every sentient race in our Milieu six million years into the future, coadunate and non. There is no people resembling you, except for humans. And I’m certain you’re not of our genus. Your mental pattern is different.”
Differences similarities parallels star whirlpools in countless numbers to the uttermost limit.
“I see. No one in my future time has managed intergalactic travel. We have not yet been able to supersede the pain barrier of the necessary translation. It rises geometrically with the increase in distance.”
Mitigant.
“How interesting. If it were only possible to transmit information about that back through the portal.”
“We can discuss this later, Elizabeth. In the capital. There are other possibilities even more intriguing that will be made clear to you in Muriah.” Distraction. He fingered his gold necklet and at once there was a tapping on the door. A nervous little man in blue stepped into the room and saluted Creyn by placing his fingers to his forehead. The Tanu gave a regal gesture of acknowledgement.
“Elizabeth, this is Tully, one of our trusted interviewers. He’s been talking to your companions, discussing their plans for the future and answering their questions.”