Daros, page 37
She looked at Frim. Frim had been willing, so readily, so easily. So brave. Brecca calmed herself. Reached inside for a stillness she hoped was there. Took a deep breath. Another one. Settled. Found a bit of peace.
“I’ll do it.” As the words came out, she felt both terror and sadness, both excitement and pride.
76
From Here to Paternity
“No, you won’t,” said a voice from behind her.
Nellen Vereen limped in front of the lights illuminating the green wall. His face showed some pain, now, and he held his stomach with his left hand. “It won’t matter if I’m hurt?”
No.
Healed.
Joy.
Gratitude.
“Elaboration. No, the new beings are all formed free from injury, derived purely from their genetics, but with natural variations built in so that they are not all identical. However, you must survive long enough to be bonded with Guzma and sent through.”
Entwined.
Assistance.
Support.
Brecca reached out and put her arms around her father. He felt cold and thin. She was careful not to squeeze. “Daddy. You don’t have to do this. This isn’t your mess.”
“Don’t be silly, Brec. I’m on my way out, anyway. This keeps you from sacrificing yourself, saves this romantically dead race you’re all talking about, and sticks a finger in the eye of the skogols who shot us down to begin with. No offense.” He looked at Frim.
“I am not offended.” Frim studied Nellen.
Nellen continued. “And I brought the metal rood thing here, too, so it’s kind of appropriate. And I get a chance to finish up my time doing something worthwhile, protecting my girl, maybe making some history. Maybe they’ll make a holo about me.” He smiled. He held out Brecca’s con, and she took it back from him. She wondered if he’d left her a message. She hoped so. But it would be a while before she was ready to listen.
There was a sudden boom, then three more in quick succession. The ground shuddered, and rocks and dust fell from the cavern ceiling in several places. “The Zeelin soldiers have arrived.” Lyra’s tone was neutral and even despite the alarming news. “I should have been reporting more regularly. I was caught up in the fulfillment of Evon’s purpose. I am very sorry. The dropships will land nearby soon. There are four of them. I cannot prevail against their numbers or their weapons, but I will try to slow their approach. There isn’t much time. Please make haste.”
Tuvo turned to the door, let out a cry, and drew his weapon. Koro gave out a shrill bellow, then shouted. “The Kenthar will defend you against the apostates. Go with grace. Redeem our sins. Your success is our restoration. The Mara Shi will live once more.”
Brecca fished one of the security passes out of her pocket. “You’ll probably need this.” She handed it to Koro, who inclined her head.
The Kenthar turned and ran to the entrance, their odd legs capable of unexpected speed. Tuvo disappeared out of the door. But Koro turned back. Her voice was low and serious. “There is one thing you must know. Once Homitta is used, it will go dormant again, to the Blessed Sleep. Then it will be unusable for centuries, or perhaps forever. All of the other Homitta we have located are in eternal slumber now. May this one follow the same path.” Koro pointed at me with her two left arms. “Direct it somewhere safe with the Rood and use it, even if the Mara Shi is not ready. If you do not do this, all is lost. You must use it. But do not destroy it. Such would be sacrilege beyond capacity to define, and it would earn you the enmity of all the Kenthar.” She followed Tuvo outside, her battle cry ringing out loud and harsh. As she passed through the doorway, under the metal door, she smacked a large control button on the right side of the opening. The thick slab of metal descended behind her, grinding its way into a slot in the ground with a resonant clang.
So, closing the door was a solid defensive choice, thought Brecca. But if the door were breached, the charges here might detonate and collapse the cave, flattening everybody in it. She supposed the Kenthar would be outraged at the sacrilege, and maybe launch a war of extermination against all humanity. But that wouldn’t be her problem.
77
A Path Among the Stars
Frim bathed in the young human’s rich emotions. So strong, so complex. It was obvious she was experiencing acute grief about her parent’s illness, but it welled up to massive spikes without warning, cutting through her anger, skepticism, anxiety, and desire to do the right thing. As she contemplated sacrificing herself, Frim could feel the depth of her fear, and when Frim volunteered in her place, the swing to relief and joy tinged with shame. Only Captain Torlo’s rages had regularly reached this magnitude and strength of emissions, but those outbursts were monotone, lacking in complexity or subtlety. Tedious, even. The array and power of the human’s feelings was entirely new to Frim, and it was beautiful in its flavors, even though it was painted by tragedy and pain. Perhaps Frim’s ejection of the gametes, of her seeding, had indeed made her more sensitive, but she suspected the human would be a rare emotional bloom regardless.
The older human was less of an emitter, or perhaps he kept his emotions in check. There was grief, and some fear, but also pride, especially when he spoke of his offspring. There was a lurch of uncertainty and bravery and panic as he committed to bond with Guzma, but it settled rapidly into purpose. Such a wonder, these beings. The Kenthar, by comparison, were dull and gray, all zealotry, action, anger, their emissions weak.
Frim worried about those attacking the facility. She knew two Kenthar, no matter their ferocity, could hardly hold off a drop ship, or perhaps even the nine remaining commandos. And if the attack was happening, either Rin had lost control of the fleet, or she was playing at something else. Frim was tempted to contact Rin through her scanner, but she didn’t think it would work underground. Even if she got through, it might not still be Rin in charge, or Rin might be on the bridge, surrounded by potential enemies.
Best to act fast. As the Kenthar had said. Frim picked up Guzma and ducked through the breach in the green wall. Brecca helped her parent through. They moved down the slope to the chamber with the platform and the pedestal. The wall was still spattered with stars. Nellen stopped walking and stared at the wall. “It’s this part of the galaxy,” he said. She could savor the awe coming off him. “But the map is at a strange angle.”
“It is centered on this world,” said Frim. “And I have configured it to the way Zeelin see it.”
“What are the red ones?”
“One is Daros. Most of the others are closer to Kenthar space. I believe they are the locations where the Homitta are.”
Concurrence.
“Well, not all of them are. That one isn’t.” Nellen was getting excited now. He pointed at one of the red specks. “That one is Bealis Beta. Or was. About five years back, a ship passed through, an alien ship with an unfamiliar design. Massive, hyper-dense construction. The thing had an oscillating gravitational field stronger than the local planets, and it was putting out all kinds of weird radiation and particle streams. It stopped dead in the system and sent out repeating signals. The locals went to investigate, as close as they dared. They couldn’t decode the signals. They tried talking to it, but there was no response. Eventually, they decided to send some remote instruments closer in, and just after the operation began, all communication from Bealis Beta ceased. The ship the Patrol sent to check it out vanished too. Finally, they dropped a ship well outside the system on a long approach, and it turned out there was a black hole where most of the system used to be, with an accretion disk around it made up of what was left of the star system. If there was a Homitta there, it’s gone now.”
Out of habit, Frim noted the location. It was not a star she knew, although Zeelin cartographic drones would probably have mapped it on their journey through these distant systems long ago. It was good to know the system was no longer safe. Then she had a thought. Perhaps this alien vessel had traveled to the star to destroy it, and to destroy the Homitta there, to prevent its use. Cleaning up the mess and the tremendous danger that the Kenthar had left behind. That would be a prudent action.
Guzma interrupted Frim’s thoughts. Urgent.
Now.
Bonding.
Brecca frowned. Frim could feel her sorrow, her fear, but also her resolve. She brought Guzma over to the two humans. Brecca tapped the case with the Vonar object strapped to her arm, the one from which Lyra spoke. There was a click and a hiss of gas. A pleasant aroma bathed the room. Like a dead oznak in the sun near the high-water mark, just beginning to ferment. Delicious.
Brecca moved her arm over her nose. “Sorry, Dad. This part isn’t too glamorous.” Frim could sense her distaste, and that of the human.
“What do I do?” Nellen was giving off concern, fear, a little revulsion. Frim hoped he would not falter.
Touch.
Hold.
Join.
Brecca slid the cover up off Guzma. Frim was fascinated. The creature’s form mimicked the shape of the case. As Frim watched, an eye opened and closed, and wet mucus dripped down the sides and onto the blue floor below.
Undress.
Torso.
Nellen laughed. “Well, you’re forward, aren’t you? On a first date, no less.” Brecca’s eyes made an odd upward circular motion, and Frim caught some embarrassment tinged with concern coming from her. Brecca helped Nellen remove his upper garment. She could see that he was heavily injured, although the wounds seemed to have been treated. She could taste his pain when he moved.
Hold.
Please.
Nellen shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t pick you up. I can’t bend that way.”
“I’ll get him, Dad.” Brecca squatted down and slid one hand under Guzma and wrapped the other around him. Moving carefully, she stood again. Mucus flowed around her hands and dripped to the floor.
“I should put you against his skin?” Brecca seemed to be addressing Guzma.
Affirmative.
Brecca moved close to Nellen and leaned Guzma onto his chest, shifting her hand around to hold him in place. Nellen’s eyes grew wide. “Wow. That’s… nice. I feel better.”
Salve.
Repair.
Several cavities opened in Guzma’s sides, and he flowed to press up against Nellen. Eventually he flattened himself onto Nellen’s chest, and Brecca pulled back. There was nothing left for her to hold.
Bonding.
Prepare.
“I’m ready,” said Nellen. “Let’s do this.” He raised a hand and touched the blob of Guzma pressed against him. He felt around the gooey mass, pressing, probing. Frim could feel his curiosity, his sense of wonder. Then his breath came in fast, and he made an odd sound, between a cry and a grunt. His arms dropped to his sides. “I… We…” His head drooped down, and he stumbled.
Brecca’s worry spiked. “What’s happening? What are you doing to him?”
Entwining.
Safe.
Nellen’s arms twitched, once, then again, and then his whole body quivered. A patch of his skin turned iridescent. That patch grew. His flesh sagged, then tightened back up, but not quite into the form it held before. His eyes were slanted, his brow more pronounced. It was hard to see the patch that was Guzma, now, as his skin writhed and resettled. They were becoming one.
Nellen raised his hand to his head and rubbed it, and as he did so, his hair came out in bunches, falling to the floor below. He brushed his head again, and more fell out. He touched his cheeks, his chest. The movement of his limbs seemed more fluid, more graceful, more flexible. Growths sprouted from his flesh, like little puckered mouths, then closed and sank back inside, always leaving the iridescent skin behind. The skin on top of his head swelled up, then narrowed to a ridge running front to back. He still had human structure, but he was recognizable as Nellen no longer.
Frim could feel Brecca’s pain and fear. She moved over to the human and put her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Do not worry. I sense no discomfort in him. He is not harmed.” That was true, as far as she could tell, but as the process continued, Nellen’s emotions became harder to read. The bizarre flavors that Guzma emitted melded with the clear human tones into something altogether new.
Brecca pressed herself against Frim, and Frim felt her tension lessen. “Thank you, Frim.”
Nellen’s changes slowed, and his skin ceased its contortion and became stable. He brushed most of the rest of the hair off his head, looking at it as it stuck to his hands. His skin seemed moist now, glistening in the blue-tinted light. He looked up at Brecca. “They . . . the Mara Shi . . . they’re so enormous. They know so much. I see, now. Some of it, anyway. I feel like I’m learning more. We are. All the time.” He stood for a moment, head bowed. Then he looked up at Brecca. “Brec. Before… Before this goes farther. Before I lose myself in it. Collect the insurance on the ship, and salvage it. It’s done for. And you’ve got a better one now, it seems. Make sure to give Cam and Nex a lot of the money. If they’re still alive, that is. Enough to get off Daros, to somewhere safe. Set them up for a while. They were good crew, and I got them into this. I put them in harm’s way.” He paused. “I left them messages. And some others. On your con.”
“I’ll handle it, Dad. Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” Brecca stared at Nellen.
“Go to him,” said Frim. “I need to find a star.”
“I’ll help,” said Lyra.
Brecca reached into her pocket. “You’ll need this, I guess.” She handed Frim a gleaming green piece of metal, a V shape, but with the ends curved around. It had a crystal set in the middle. Brecca moved over to her father. He held out his hands, and she took them in hers. They spoke, their voices soft.
Frim moved over to the pedestal. It wasn’t clear what one did with the Rood. She looked at the stars displayed on the wall. She needed a system with a planet that could support life. That meant a world with free oxygen and water, probably, and a gravitational pull close to Enzok standard. Perhaps Homitta could make a harsh world tamer, but Frim reasoned that it would be better to start with one that might be habitable to begin with. But not one that actually was inhabited, at least by sentient beings. She knew of several such worlds in and near Zeelin space. They were mapped for potential colonization. But she did not want to put the new race close to the Zeelin. That could only lead to conflict and danger. She needed one farther away, ideally out of the way.
And then she had an answer. Rouletan. The idyllic world discovered by Cartographer Myen, whose notes Frim had browsed through on the bridge, not so very long ago measured in time, but seemingly a lifetime ago in her experience. She remembered the coordinates, the way there, the neighboring systems, the pattern and arrangement of the surrounding stars. She’d committed them to memory. She felt a rush of joy and anticipation. She would send Nellen and Guzma there. They would be safe, and they would be happy. She was a Navigator. She would find the way. This, she could do. She manipulated the pedestal, spun the stars, found the pattern, found Rouletan. “I have a target. I know where to send them.”
Lyra spoke through the Sigil. “It is time, then. You must use the Rood. Put it on top of the control.” Frim placed the Rood on the top of the pedestal. It sank into the surface and disappeared. A tone sounded, a pure, deep note, reverberating in the small space, seemingly coming from everywhere. On the side of the pedestal, the round protrusion glowed. Frim assumed that was the control that would activate the transport, but she needed to tune to Rouletan first. Somehow.
She put her hand on the pedestal and rotated and scaled the stars to place Rouletan in the center. “How do I restrict it? So that it will only send them to one place?”
Lyra answered. “The Kenthar lore does not say, just that it was possible and frequently done, back when the Roods were available to them.”
“Perhaps you should have found more detailed instructions.” Frim felt a surge of panic. She had very little time to learn an ancient alien technology. Then, a boom sounded from outside. She could hear muffled sounds of combat. For the noises to make it through the thick rock here, there must be some heavy weapons in play, perhaps even ship-based weapons. Frim wondered how long the Kenthar would last. Or the door.
The beings who left the Homitta to the Old Ones would have made them easy to use, Frim reasoned, especially if they could only be used infrequently, once every few centuries. A culture and a language could change a great deal over that much time, and knowledge and tradition could easily be lost. She studied the wall and tried to make sense of it. She could see no way to use it. She moved her hand over the pedestal, but that merely allowed her to change the orientation and focus of the stars on the display, as she had already learned. The Rood had changed none of that.
As she experimented, she grew more frustrated. Nothing was working. And something was getting louder. Wait, no, stronger. She paused. What was it? She opened her receptors wide. It was an emotion. Not the humans and Guzma – they were steeped in many complex feelings, shot through with Guzma’s bizarre savor. But she could feel something bigger around them, behind them. She pushed for that. It was the flavor she’d felt ever since arriving – the sense of peace and tranquility. It had been everywhere, pervading all the places she’d been, so omnipresent and constant that she had almost failed to notice it. But now it was stronger, louder. And changing.
The peace gave way to curiosity. Did it wanted to know something? Was it asking? Frim centered the display on Rouletan, making its star the midpoint of the wall, zooming in to send all others farther out. That one, she thought, trying to project her thoughts to the presence around her. There. Take them there.
The presence shifted in tone once again. Disapproval. Disappointment. Diminution. Insignificance. What could that mean? But it had responded, which suggested it was listening. What could it be disappointed about? Frim thought for a moment. Perhaps it wanted to do more than send one species to one world. After all, if the histories were correct, a Homitta could populate hundreds, maybe thousands of worlds at once. Perhaps this task was too menial, too small, to justify waking after hundreds of years, and then sleeping for hundreds more.
