Through the Singularity

by L. Frank Wadsworth

  “Humph. Judge not, lest yea be judged. But since you asked, forty-three times to date.”

  She laughs. “You can't be serious. No galan has suffered corporeal death that many times.”

  “I'm sure you know best, but please recall, I'm not galan. Here, drink this.” He gently puts a hand behind her head, regretting the slick feel of blood that has leaked through the makeshift bandage and soaked into her hair. He places the glass against her lips, slowly tipping it so she can suck in the liquid. She takes a hesitant sip, followed by a couple more, then drinks several mouthfuls before pausing to catch her breath.

  She licks her lips daintily. “What is that?”

  “I'm thinking of patenting it. It's my custom blend of minerals, sugars, and other organic compounds to feed symbiots what they most need to heal injured galanen. I can also give it intravenously, if necessary. I even make it in several flavors, though grape, which is what I gave you, seems to go down the best. I've had too much practice using it, though you're the first being I've harmed personally that I've given it to.”

  “What is your name?”

  “What do you think it is?” He responds flippantly.

  She thinks about everything she has learned, all that she suspects. She blurts out impulsively, “Nils Hagen.”

  He laughs. “Indeed, if you so wish, call me Nils.”

  “Tell me what you know about these aliens.”

  “I will only deliver that information to the one galan I wish to share it with.”

  “Zaleria?”

  “Your mentee and greatest disappointment? No, I've already told you it is not her,” he says.

  “Did she tell you that?”

  He pauses for a moment, wondering how much to reveal. “No, she loves you almost as much as her mother, for what it is worth. But I've seen it in how you treat her. There is no greater bitterness to be seen than the look a mentor has on her face when a favorite pupil betrays her trust. The look you had on your face, when you visited her at Elk's Grove.”

  “How, who are you?”

  “Nils, I thought we discussed that already. But then, Clive had recorded the video and was there, and you don't seem to believe that is who I am. So be it, there are greater mysteries that need solving.”

  She squirms a bit on the floor, trying to find a more comfortable position. He sighs. “Okay, swear to me by the Being of Light that you will listen to what I have to tell you, and not try to harm me, escape, or call your people to remove me from Earth. If you do this, I will remove your bindings so you can be more comfortable. After we talk, I will return your ship so you can depart in peace.”

  She thinks about that for a moment. “I will do so with one provision. This oath will be null and void if you are a rogue galan.”

  “That is acceptable.”

  “Then I so swear.”

  She hears him moving around, he reaches behind her and unlocks the cuffs holding her hands to her feet, grabs her under the armpits and easily lifts her up onto the couch in a sitting position. He undoes the cuffs holding her feet together, and then bends her forward a little to undo the cuffs holding her hands. She sits back, free, and rubs her hands to get the circulation going in them again. He walks out into another room. “I want to change the bandage on your head; the wound on your belly has stopped bleeding.”

  Beltare says nothing. She is bitterly angered by how things have turned out, but she will abide by her oath. It is a grave promise for her people to make, and she will not go back on her word so given. She is trying to put the pieces together about who this person might be. He seems galan. What was it Zaleria had said once? She suspected Rolle Andersson had compromised her symbiots. But what if he'd somehow stolen them? Was that even possible? Could that mean that he was still alive, that this “Nils” or “Clive” or whomever was Rolle? He'd said he and Beltare had met before. She'd had so many missions on Earth over the years. He claimed she wouldn't remember him, but he sure seems fixated on her. What could she have done to him?

  Clive, or whoever it is, comes back out and starts gently taking the bandage off her head. “Huh, it's still bleeding a little. You'd think they could seal up such little holes faster than that,” he says mostly to himself. “Probably don't want to risk fluid buildup; that would be bad.” What an eccentric person, whomever he is, whatever he is.

  He puts a glass in her hand; it is more of his concoction. She sips at it. It really is good. “Will you tell me about the aliens now?”

  “I won't tell you everything I know, but I will tell you a little of what I suspect. They have been here a very long time. How long, I'm not sure, but I suspect it is on the order of 50,000 years or more. Maybe before you were even born. They have been guiding our evolution, bringing our two related species to the point where we are, for all intents and purposes, the same species. You and I could mate, er, if either of us were so inclined. What I'm saying is genetically, we're compatible, which makes us pretty much the same species. I understand the galanen already know this. I believe these aliens founded Sklávoi Ashtoreth, and that the organization is probably based somewhere in modern day Turkey—or the surrounding region. I’m concerned they will be far too dangerous to confront and nearly impossible to kill, for us humans.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “The details are the message I want to deliver,” he says coolly.

  “Why go through all this? Why not just give it to me? Look at all that has happened because you wouldn't just tell me.”

  “What has happened is because of you. You were the one who precipitated violence. If you can't learn from such mistakes, well, there isn't anything more I can do about it. All I will tell you is I have my reasons, and if you work with me you will understand them in the fullness of time. After all, you have plenty of time to spare.”

  Beltare flushes a bit and looks prepared to fight with him about it, but she stops herself. She takes a deep breath and lets it out. “So be it. Perhaps we'll have a chance to discuss it at some future date.”

  “Perhaps. Who knows what the future holds?”

  “Do you have any idea why these beings are doing this?”

  “It appears to me—based solely on empirical evidence—that they want humanity to end up as a failed race. I think if they wanted to destroy humanity, they could have easily helped us do so by now. They clearly do not want us to succeed, because they focus most of their energy perverting all attempts to build a more enlightened society. I admit, it isn't much to go on. They are truly evil. I have some specific examples of this, but none I want to share at this time. They are essentially soulless.”

  Beltare starts at that word and can tell he noticed the reaction.

  “Does this mean something to you?” He asks.

  She doesn't want to say too much. “Nothing I want to share at this time. Partly because I'm unsure, partly because I'm not feeling particularly generous with my insights today.”

  She can practically feel him smiling. “I can understand that; it's a very human reaction. Perhaps someday, we'll be able to trust each other more than we do. That will have to be earned. For what it is worth, I do not wish to be an enemy of the galanen, but I will defend my interests and my people. If the galanen wish to help humanity, then I think our best chance of success is to become allied against our common foe, but that will not happen this day, I suspect.”

  “What now?”

  “I've said my piece. Your sight should return soon. When it does, I'll be gone, and you'll be free to return to your people. You will share what you wish to reveal about what you have learned, and at some point I have no doubt you'll reach out for me again. You know how. Until then…” She feels a prick in her shoulder, then nothing.

  ∞∞∞

  Beltare awakens and can see again. She is in the waverider, which is holding its position at the first Earth-moon Lagrange point. She looks around and finds she is alone. Her head is nearly healed, and her abdomen has only the barest trace of a scar. Her comms unit
has not been fully restored, but she can use the waverider to communicate with Luna base through a local connection.

  “Jevelle, this is Beltare. My comms are still out, but I'm in the waverider and heading for Luna. Has the rest of my squad been recovered?”

  “Beltare, it is good to hear from you! We feared the worst. Yes, they are fine. They were stunned but otherwise uninjured. Your contact was far more than he seemed. Are you okay?”

  “I'll be fine. This—person—used a rather crude method to ensure I couldn't contact the collective. I'll provide the details in person when I get there. It is all very odd, and I'm not sure what to make of it. I'll be there soon.”

  Beltare doesn't know what else to say. She'll provide a full report, sans perhaps some of the more personal interactions, and see what the collective wisdom of their little group comes up with. She really wants to hear what, if anything, Zaleria will have to say.

  After landing on Luna, she is met by Jevelle. There are no other galanen there; she is obviously keeping very tight security. Jevelle examines her head closely. “Precise. He used one of our pistols, didn't he? Burned right through the comms unit with only minimal damage to surrounding tissue. You were blind for a while? Yes, I thought as much. Unfortunate.” She examines the scar on her belly. “How did he know about the back-up tracking device?”

  “I do not know. He…knew far more than he should have. I suspect he was reading my thoughts, somehow.”

  “Was he galan?” Jevelle asks.

  “He certainly seemed so, but I couldn't sense his symbiots. We were in close contact. If he had them, we should have been able to make a local connection. All I felt was an echo, like my thoughts were reflected back at me. It's hard to explain.”

  “Perhaps Fandtha can deduce more. Please save all your session data and all other evidence you have. Were you able to get any of his DNA?”

  “I tried, but my symbiots were unable to do so. I'm not sure why. It has all been so unsettling. I thought he was the rogue galan we're looking for. But it makes no sense. It doesn't feel right. I think we need to gather the others. The only thing he asked of me was to facilitate his delivering a message to an unnamed galan. He wouldn't say why, only that we'd know in the fullness of time, and that he had his reasons.”

  Jevelle thinks on this for a long time. “Rest up, Beltare. Earth continues to surprise us at every turn. At least you came back in mostly one piece. I think it is time to get everyone together on Juruele and discuss matters.”

  Beltare nods her head, feeling sleepy. “I will go to my quarters, meld with my essence, and start placing data into our private channel.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Reunion

  Zaleria's watch satellites announce the arrival of the D-ship from Luna. They'd gotten the readout from Jevelle, and later Beltare. Fandtha could make nothing of how Clive or Nils, or whoever it was, could do what he did. Zaleria knows who it is but has not shared that knowledge. She has no idea what message Achi may have, or for whom—although she has a suspect in mind.

  Zaleria looks at her mother, who is pale and irritable. She likewise assumes she is the probable recipient of Achi's message and is having difficulty with not knowing. And there is more. His reaction to Beltare has taken her by surprise.

  “I told you he could be formidable if adequately provoked. What did that idiot girl do?” Traemuña mutters under her breath. “Well, are you going to invite them to land?” She is being snappish, which is totally uncharacteristic of her—a reflection of her growing stress.

  Toshi watches them both, seemingly unfazed. He has surely noticed Traemuña's reaction, but Zaleria feels he isn't surprised. Probably best to get this over with. Zaleria grabs her mother’s hand and gives it a squeeze, then formally invites their guests to land. “Elders Jevelle and Fandtha, I thank you for returning to visit Juruele. Beltare, welcome. Please land in the clearing to the east of my house. I look forward to our sharing.” She heads for the clearing.

  The waverider settles soundlessly into the clearing by the pond. Jevelle is the first to get out, followed by Fandtha, then Beltare, who looks a bit worse for wear. Zaleria embraces Jevelle, the eldest, then Fandtha. Beltare pauses a bit at her approach but quickly sighs, forces a smile and allows Zaleria’s embrace. Zaleria pauses a bit to gauge her hesitance but can't determine the cause. She may simply still be bitter. They really do need to reconcile, she thinks to herself.

  In keeping with formal customs, she introduces each to her mother as the eldest, although Traemuña has little patience for it. When all formalities have been observed, her mother simply looks at them and shares, “We have much to discuss, so let’s get started.” She turns and heads into the house.

  They go into Zaleria's living room, and as the host, she passes out light refreshments; juice and fruit. Zaleria looks at Beltare, “This being claimed to know me. What do you think? Was he the rogue galan or something else?”

  Beltare returns her gaze but doesn't share anything at first—collecting her thoughts, calculating. “I do not believe this being was the rogue, but he may have been galan, or perhaps a very similar advanced being. I believe you may have known him on Earth, because he used your pistol, as well as mine, to stun my squad.”

  Zaleria nods her head. “I concur. What did he tell you about himself?”

  “He seemed to know a lot about me, but I'm not sure how. I almost believe he could read my mind. He even knew the name of my home world. I couldn't make a connection with his symbiots, if he had any. It was very odd. I thought he was going to destroy my unitary, and he threatened to do so, so I 'would have to wait two years to grow a new body.' He knew when I called for my team and knew I intended to take him to Luna. He claimed humanity were his people, and he would not permit me to remove him from Earth. I believe you know who he is, or perhaps you did during the time that is now lost to us.”

  Zaleria nods her head. It all fit. “His name, I believe, is Achi.”

  Beltare furrows her brows, searching her memory and finding nothing, then reaching out to the collective. Her eyes widen. “You don't mean that child from your first mission? That was over 10,000 years ago!”

  “That is correct. Given our injuries and genetic similarities, I believe I inadvertently contaminated him with a small number of my symbiots. In hindsight, we should have checked. I think my unitary discovered this during my last mission, and I think it highly likely our memories would have commingled once we came within local range and our, my, symbiots synced up for the first time in 10,000 years. I just figured it out right about the time you went to meet him, and had not time to share my results, unfortunately.”

  “He's a monster! We can't leave him on Earth. He needs to be removed, He…”

  “Is he?!” Traemuña forcefully interjects. “What did he do to you? He neutralized a threat using minimum force, with full knowledge that you would not suffer any long-term ill effects. Yes, I have dealt with him in the past. I found him very perceptive and perspicacious.” Traemuña stares daggers through Beltare. “What did you do to provoke him? And what did he tell you that has upset you so? Be careful casting aspersions, lest you define your own character.”

  “You knew! Did you think you could hide it?!” She retorts accusingly.

  “I thought it was of no import, because he is not the cause of the problems on Earth. He was Zaleria's problem to deal with, and I think she has done so with far more success than I expected. Why do you keep straying from the problems that really matter?”

  Toshi stands up. “Enough friends, please. Emotions are high, and I think they will get higher. We are not enemies here. Beltare, you have taken umbrage at having information withheld from you, and that is fair. But Traemuña is right in at least one respect. You are being rash.” Beltare starts at hearing that word used to describe her actions, again. “Do not let your anger block the wisdom of others with more experience in such matters.” He turns to Zaleria. “What more do you know?”

  Zaleria wonders tha
t herself. “I'm unsure. I do not believe Achi holds malice toward me, but I do not know what his message may be. I don't think he'd do all of this unless he felt it was important.”

  Beltare looks like she is preparing to say something else when her eyes glaze over, and she slumps back into her chair, unconscious. They see her lips silently move, almost like a puppet; it is extremely unsettling. Everyone looks at her with alarm—almost everyone. Traemuña seems to be distracted by something, her expression growing from confused, to dark, to horrified. She gets up, wraps her arms around herself and walks briskly outside.

  Everyone looks around, confused. Zaleria is torn about who to see to, before deciding to follow her mother. The rest stay with Beltare, who appears to be recovering from her spell.

  “What…? What just happened?” she asks?

  No one knows.

  “What do you remember? You lost consciousness. What do your systems say?” Jevelle asks, concerned.

  “I don't know…” is all she can offer. “I feel a bit woozy. It looks like my neural cortex was suspended for a moment. I'm trying to figure out how. Everything seems okay now….” She sits there looking inward for a couple minutes while the others connect with her symbiots and try to help her run diagnostics. It is very, very rare for a galan to have any kind of health issue, and losing consciousness probably portents a very serious problem with her symbiots.

  Fandtha is the first to figure it out. “Oh, here is the problem. You have alien symbiots in your system. They are quickly dissolving, covering their tracks. I almost didn't find them in time. It looks like they are from Zaleria, so I would assume Achi's doing. How very clever. It seems he found a way to get you to deliver his message anyway.”

  “Based on her reaction, I would assume Elder Traemuña was the recipient,” Toshi states, matter-of-fact.

  “I feel…used,” Beltare says, blanching a little. “No wonder he had no problem letting me go. He knew I'd fulfill his mission, whether I wanted to or not.” Her face flushes a deep red, as her anger grows. “That debased…” she struggles to find a word, as the galanen don't invoke curses. “Bastard,” she says, finally finding an appropriate English sentiment. She inhales, getting ready to say something else, but Toshi fixes her with a stern glance.