Journey From Heaven
Page 60
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An incredible ride! I thought, watching the ship as it entered Ranar’s atmosphere exactly as I had dreamed it an eternity ago—side-slipping back and forth like a fluttering leaf. The technique was evidently efficient, since I couldn’t see any ablative shielding to keep the ship’s skin from glowing cherry red like it otherwise should. Not until what seemed like the last possible minute before impending destruction did the ship right itself, hidden rotors kicking in to ease it toward Ranar’s surface like a hovercraft. Articulated metal legs were extended, tentatively felt their way into the soil, tested for solid ground. The ship leveled out, its rotors whirring to a stop. At the same moment, millions of crimson tulip petals began settling from the air as well.
I glanced at the M’hah-hu-uuu guardians. They must be accustomed to the unusual descent; they certainly hadn’t shown any signs of nervousness or undue concern. Except for the ship’s mirrored surface reflecting the surrounding trees and overarching sky, it really did look like a giant mushroom sat in the clearing. Hot gases escaped noisily from concealed vents, and the cooling hull creaked with the sound of its contracting metal.
We watched and we waited. Overhead in the trees, just as I remembered it, tens of thousands of Ranar’s birds waited, too, now silent and brooding, as if anticipating the birth of one of their own from the shell. Perhaps to them the ship really did resemble a giant egg, if a much shinier one. But then, some of Ranar’s birds eggs are nearly as shiny and brilliantly colored as their own feathers. From the marges of the surrounding forest, representatives of the centii and millii, as well as most every other Ranaran “terrestrial” creature, watched with curiosity equal to that of their avian cousins.
The hours of waiting and of holding my own breath in anticipation afforded me more time for reflection on my role here on Ranar. Yes, I was Steward of Ranar, but what did that really mean? Didn’t a steward hold something in safekeeping for someone else? Wasn’t a steward servant to another? Had I been Steward of Ranar all these centuries in order to turn it over to these others, these who were about to emerge like chicks from an egg?
I was still mulling my own questions when a hatch clanged open and a rope ladder dropped out, its end falling short of the ground by two meters. Moments later, a manlike creature swung to the first rung, and began climbing down, feet first. I say manlike, because he was bipedal and physically similar in proportion to a man. Concerning his face, animated it was far more beautiful than in stasis, where all those aboard had been masked and intubated for their long journey. I remembered, from my dream, creatures who possessed a catlike, physical grace beyond that of humans, and he had a feline if not leonine visage and a mane of hair to match. It was a face I was instantly drawn to, and just as instantly recognized; though the M’hah-hu-uuu were from a different world (indeed from a different galaxy and even a different universe) than I’d been born to, they were nevertheless related to me at some level through the Heavenly Father.
Yet, the deep truth was that my real questions concerned those intangibles which ran far deeper than outward appearances: spiritual insight, character, personality, intelligence—
Their native intelligence was obvious, illustrated by their ship and its artistic treasures wrought in wood and stone. Their character, personality, and spiritual insight would require far longer to explore.
Disdaining further use of the ladder and giving no detectable warning, our M’hah-hu-uuu guest let himself freefall toward the ground, where he landed in a crouch. His legs were like coil springs, as he sprang to his full height a split-second later and pivoted, head first, arms swinging out, body following, as in a ballet. Other than the impression of gracefulness, as I’d expected, his blend of strength and agility suggested that he could leap back into the ship at any moment without benefit of the rope ladder.
Instead, he cocked a hand behind one ear, and listened. He sniffed the air. The swiveling motion began again, head turning round and round, his body moving in a slower rotation.
Though the centii and millii and others, watching eagerly from the forest’s edge, were clearly evident to me, he just as clearly did not see them or the birds perching hundreds of feet above us in the trees. But then again, in contrast to the visual acuity of creatures made of flesh, my own eyesight is virtually as unlimited as I wish. Neither did he see myself or the angels standing in attendance beside me. As with the angels, he would not see me until he was ready to, or until the moment of my choosing.
Ceasing from his graceful spinning, he spoke, aiming his voice up at the ship’s open hatchway. Bo’el had already begun tutoring me in M’hah-hu-uuu in the hours before their landing, but hearing actual speech from the lips of a native was electrifying. It wasn’t anything an angel, short of taking on the physical guise of one of them, could hope to faithfully replicate. The difference was far greater than my own initial meeting with Leanhar upon the Elysian fields outside Heaven’s gates, when I first understood an angel could not sound completely human unless he took on human lips, tongue, larynx, and human chest. For that same reason, it had been rare for demons to dare converse openly with their human victims on old earth, instead choosing to whisper or mutter, or to reveal themselves in evil dreams, or to make use of automatic writing or a Ouija board.
I knew at once that if anyone could hope to speak M’hah-hu-uuu and actually sound like one of them, it was I. I was even surer when others of the visitors dropped from the ship and began conversing with the first of the M’hah-hu-uuu; like one might hope to hear from creatures who were genuinely feline in appearance, a purring resonance accompanied their words. More importantly, the most distinctive feature of the language was their universal stutter.
Leanhar recognized it, too. He turned to me with wide, mirthful eyes. In the meantime, the M’hah-hu-uuu were fanning out. In seconds, they would encounter their first Ranarans, who were still concealed at the forest’s edge. We followed, with Leanhar grinning broadly, as if at some private joke, while the M’hah-hu-uuu guardians shot mystified glances in our direction.
At last, our visitors came face to face with the centii and millii, who shyly stepped from the encircling forest and stood in ranks, as though for a parade ground inspection. The M’hah-hu-uuu halted in their tracks, their eyes wide with astonishment. They made as if to bow in greeting, and would have done so, except for one thing. At that moment, Cielo and his orchestra broke forth in a chorus of music so loud, so cacophonous, its first opening notes literally sounded like thunder.
The M’hah-hu-uuu bolted like a pack of yowling, scalded cats, and the avian orchestra, seeing its opportunity, dropped all pretense of music and stooped upon their victims like a cloud of ravenous vultures. But as swift as Cielo and his people were, their quarry had already disappeared into the forest. The centii and millii, keeping pace with the fleeing M’hah-hu-uuu for a while, soon gave up the chase, too; even they, with their limited intelligence, understood there would be no reasoning with their terror-stricken visitors.
Unable to restrain himself any longer, Leanhar exploded with laughter, and I laughed with him. The M’hah-hu-uuu were quickly lost to the forest. With one backward glance at Leanhar and myself, who were by then shouting gleefully loud praises to God, the guardians rushed after them in swift pursuit.