Cluster by Piers Anthony

intruder, no naked tribe child. It was a man wearing the uniform of the imperial Guard. His skin was so pale as to be virtually white, slug-white, like the Shaman's, which meant he was Earthborn. From the spaceport, obviously; one of their idle personnel. But the imperial Guard was not to be ignored.
    Flint, like most natives, didn't care for clothing. It interfered with necessary activity. Only in winter would he don protective gear. This completely clothed Earthman turned him off.
    â€œI am Flint,” he said.
    â€œCome with me.”
    Once every five years the imperials rounded up all the children of the tribe and ran them through a battery of obscure tests. It was a meaningless procedure, but the kids got a kick out of it and it seemed to satisfy the Earthborns. But this was not the year or the time, and Flint was no longer a child. Earth had no present call on him. “Like hell I will!” he snapped. “I've got work to do.”
    The Guardsman reached for his weapon, a regulation blaster.
    Flint was on his feet instantly, poised, a flint blade held expertly between his fingers. “Want to try it, Imp?” he whispered.
    Now a crowd of children had gathered by the shop, gawking at the scene. The Imperial reconsidered. If he blasted Flint, he would be deemed a murderer, attacking a naked and effectively unarmed primitive. If Flint killed him with that blade—a far more likely outcome than he imagined—he would be dead. Either way, he would have failed in his mission. Missions were supremely important to Imperials. “You have to come, Flint,” he said. “It's by order of the Regent of Earth. The capsule just arrived.”
    â€œWhat does the Regent want with me?” Flint demanded, not relaxing. An Imperial, like a dinosaur, was never to be trusted.
    â€œHe wants to send you to Sol. That's all I know.”
    â€œSol!” the children cried, amazed.
    Flint laughed. “Me to Sol! No one goes to Sol. They come from there.”
    But then he remembered the omen. Could this be its meaning?
    In that moment of Flint's hesitation, the Imperial Guard drew his blaster. “Nothing personal,” he said. “But orders are orders. You're being mattermitted to Earth—today.”
    But the resistance was gone from Flint. He could have handled the guard, and hidden from the Earthborns. But how could he fight the omen? His magic was weak, and the sign had reached across 108 light years to touch him. Against that, there was no defense.
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    Chapter 2:
    Mission of Ire
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    *notice target galaxy development*
    â€“notice taken report–
    *transfer logged 80 intensity motion 1500 parsecs from sphere knyfh to underdeveloped region*
    â€“potential interest evidently knyfh is searching for assistance unable to monitor outer galaxy alone futile no advanced cultures in that segment–
    *addendum number of technologically incipient cultures in vicinity cluster of spheres*
    â€“itemize–
    *canopus spica polaris anteres sador nath bellatrix mirzam mintaka*
    â€“cluster of nonentities canopus is slave culture spica waterbound sador regressive to core mintaka interested only in music antares possesses transfer but uses it only internally polaris represents potential threat owing to efficient circularity this is where knyfh transferred?–
    *correction transferred to sphere sol*
    â€“sol! barely technological small sphere–
    *advanced rapidly in recent period after awkward breakthrough*
    â€“concurrence detail on sol–
    *abortive mattermission expansion depleted source planet almost to point of nonreturn followed by disciplined starship colonization 400 source planet cycles of years major colonies sirius and procyon atomic level altair formalhaut vega machine technology arich mufrid pollux acturus denebola castor capella all pre-industrial commerce sheriton deneb-kaitos aldebaron alioth consepertis sabic all medieval  remaining