“I believe so. Those convergent ribs are no doubt the stiffeners with which the sails are controlled. Bone, perhaps, or carbon fiber. When, or if, we get to the bottom, we will find her body and her brain and the rest of her. I have no very clear idea as to her anatomy, though I expect something serpentine.”
“She’s huge,” murmured Madame.
“Her wings are huge, but I would guess they are quite fragile,” Questioner explained. “They are actually stellar sails. When she flew, she sailed on the radiation winds between the stars, her wings spread over kilometers of space. By the time she fell here, her wings were so tattered as to be virtually useless.
“In the songs, however, Corojumi are called, among other things, those who repair. I infer, therefore, that the Corojumi have repaired her, possibly using the liquid substance of the Fauxi-dizalonz, which repairs all life on this world. The Corojumi were also choreographers, and we know that when the Quaggima was restless, the Corojumi designed dances that soothed her.”
“Where?” cried Ellin. “Where could you dance? Where are her eyes to see the dancers? Her ears to hear the music? She’d have to observe it, wouldn’t she?”
Questioner patted the air, saying, “Patience, Ellin. We will no doubt learn where the dance was done, and how.”
“I am still waiting to find out what this all has to do with us,” grated Onsofruct.
“Use your perceptions, woman!” snarled Questioner. “When the egg was laid, it was small. Over long time, however, it has grown! Had it not been soothed into sleep, it would have hatched long since! But, at some point when the creature within stirred very strongly, Kaorugi realized the hatching of the egg would mean the destruction of the world!”
“Destruction?” cried Calvy, incredulously.
Questioner nodded. “I’ve been running some simulations, just to see how the thing could be managed. One implication is inescapable. The Quaggi cannot escape planetary gravity using star-sails. I don’t know the size or weight of the egg, but it has to be propelled out of the gravity well with the hatchling still folded safely inside, and it is possible that only nuclear force would provide sufficient propulsive power. We will, I imagine, find some kind of device within or around the egg, developing as part of it, that will propel the hatchling away from this world’s gravity, with consequent destruction to a great part of this world. According to the Brotherhood of Interstellar Trade, the adult Quaggi extrude metal, which they draw from their surroundings. I imagine that the egg itself, or the thing inside the egg, or the Quaggima itself, has been mining this planet for fuel since it arrived here.”
“You’re sure of this?” asked Madame.
“Of course I’m not sure! Nonetheless, I can come up with no other reasonable inference.”
“Destruction,” Calvy said again, as though unfamiliar with the word. “Destruction of the whole world?”
Questioner replied, “The substance of the world will no doubt survive, as may some elementary lifeforms, but the life, the totality which is Kaorugi, is another matter. The explosion, with the resultant pouring of dust into the atmosphere, is likely to cut off the sunlight. Much of Kaorugi now draws its life from the sun and will die if sunlight is lost.
“Once Kaorugi realized the destructive capabilities of the Quaggi egg, it did everything possible to keep both the Quaggima and the developing hatchling quiescent. Evidently the hatchling can continue developing in the egg for a very long time, if necessary, and keeping it there was the purpose of the dances we have heard about. On another planet, one without moons, it might stay quiescent for eons. Here, however, as the egg went on growing, the tug of the moons became greater, the dance grew more and more complex.”
“So?” demanded Simon, wonderingly.
“So, no one of the Corojumi could remember it all. They remembered it corporately, and they recreated and augmented the dance whenever it was needed.”
“I can guess where you’re going with this,” said Calvy, staring at the pond below, where the Corojum stood in the midst of a great crowd of Timmys, a violet light shining among the other colors of the slender beings. “You said this was the last Corojum. The first settlers must have what? Killed them for their hides?”