He headed for the door and put his mind shield back up, blocking all thoughts. It struck him then, how Jasper knew something like that about the false picture signals. Had the aliens told him that? The more Cyrus thought about it, the more he wanted to hear what Venice had to say about her last shift attempt.
5
Journeyman Klane sat in the seeker’s tent as the winds howled outside. Dust and bigger grains of sand pelted the western side of the tent. Klane hardly heard that or the groan of the bone tent poles.
He sat on a flattish rock, polishing his junction-stone. The stone was jet black and wet with gat oil. Klane rubbed and rubbed. He recalled the trek to the Singing Cave. He remembered his bloody nose. But most of all, he concentrated on his magic spell. The seeker had named the spell. It was called “Teleport.” Although Klane hadn’t been able to cast it again, he had done it once, a spell the old man had never been able to achieve.
I am now a seeker indeed.
Klane grinned, and he focused on the stone. It was heavy in his hand and he had impregnated it with power. Ever since returning from the Singing Cave, Klane had brimmed with confidence. The warriors must have sensed it in him. They no longer needled him with sly jokes, but silently moved aside when he neared. It was a good feeling. All his life, he had been the butt of their pranks, of their rough humor, but it appeared not any more.
During his many taunt filled years, the seeker had stuck up for him against the others. The seeker had sheltered him here in the tent or in the tent of one of his wives. Sometimes, though, the old man had made him endure the taunts. Klane understood now that the old man had done that to strengthen him.
As he sat in the tent polishing the stone, a shriek sounded above the howling wind. Something about the shriek penetrated Klane’s concentration. He looked up. The shriek broadcast again, followed by several others. Then a gong began to sound.
“A raid,” Klane whispered. It was the alarm gong, a thing of metal struck with a mallet.
What clan would raid during a windstorm of the Eye? It made no sense. This was a wicked time when the baleful Eye of the Moon searched for evildoers to devour. No one with any sense walked abroad away from a clan’s protective symbols.
The back hairs of Klane’s neck bristled. His stomach seethed with fear. Clan warriors would never attack now. It had to be the demons.
Klane’s gat-oiled fingers tightened around his junction-stone. He clenched his teeth and lurched to his feet. He was a seeker, or nearly one, with an impregnated stone. He had an obligation to protect the clan from demons. It was one of a seeker’s greatest duties.
He burst out of the tent and into the swirling dust storm. The cluster of encircling tents quivered and shook, and sand and grit blew in the air. The sky was dark with particles, but the moon shined its banded colors. Klane couldn’t help but look up, even though it was bad luck to do so on such a night.
The black Eye of the Moon peered down at him. The great swirling orb had broken up the moon’s many banded colors, at least in its region. Those bands normally crossed the moon in great horizontal stripes. The Eye swirled around and around in vile motion, a churning, continuous thing.
Klane shivered and fear entered his soul.
The alarm gong rang once more.
Klane tore his gaze from the terrible Eye. Relief flooded through him, and he found that he clutched his junction-stone.
Have I gained power over the Eye?
The thought gave him courage. He parted his lips and laughed. If the Eye couldn’t suck his soul, he could do anything.
With rebounded confidence, Klane shielded his gaze from the blowing dust and looked around. Women picked up young children and ran for the Jumbles in the distance. The Jumbles were great fields of boulders. Some warriors ran with them, shielding themselves from the mocking Eye.
Klane’s heart thudded with renewed fear. What could make Tash-Toi warriors run like cowards? They had seen the Eye before.
Other warriors argued in a group, among them the hetman and Cletus the Champion. Several of the bravest warriors hefted their spears and pointed skyward.
Squinting against the gritty wind, Klane looked up where they pointed. His heart went cold at the sight.
An air-car slid across the sky. It had a bubble canopy. Two demons sat in the car, big monstrous beast-creatures. They peered down at the Tash-Toi and brought their air-car lower.
The hetman blew the war horn and raced toward the air-car. He shook his spear at the craft, offering to fight it for the honor of the clan.
Klane clutched his junction-stone and snarled. He had magic. He was almost a seeker. Here was his chance to prove to everyone that he could protect the clan. He raced after the hetman.
“Klane, no!” the seeker shouted. “Come back! You don’t know what you’re doing.”
If Klane heard the seeker, he didn’t give any evidence. He ran at the lowering craft, and he ran after the hetman. He heard warriors shouting, and he gained courage from their voices.
Raising the fist clutching the junction-stone, Klane roared curses at the demons. His eyes turned a metallic color and sweat appeared on his face. Then a bright light blinked inside the air-car canopy, and the floating vehicle turned toward him.
“Klane, run!” the seeker shouted, his words whipped away by the wind.
One of the demons pointed at Klane. Fear knifed in Klane’s heart. He couldn’t hurt the demons. He knew that. The seeker had told him so many times. One had to stop them a different way.
Their air-car, maybe I can injure it.
Although fear pulsated through him, Klane grinned like a malic-beast and cast a powerful spell at the air-car. It slid effortlessly through the howling sky, a mighty symbol of demon power. Klane felt the magic drain from him and pour through the junction-stone.
From above came a strange grinding sound and a howl. The smoothly sliding air-car lurched. It threw the two demons together.
Klane laughed wildly.
The air-car began to fall. It plummeted toward the red sands and crashed with a mighty splintering and thunder of noise. It crumpled and began to leak the blood of two slain demons.
Klane sagged to his knees. He was spent, but he had done the impossible. In this instant of time, he had become a demonslayer.
Moments later, he was aware of warriors slapping his back and praising him.
“You saved the clan.”
“Did you see his courage?”
“He laughed at the demons.”
“He is a seeker among seekers,” the hetman proclaimed. “You and you, help him to my tent.”
“No,” the old seeker said.
Klane lifted his head, grinning at the old man. The seeker did not grin back.
“What’s wrong?” the hetman asked the seeker.
“He has slain demons. They will want revenge. We must flee and hide in the Wild Rocks.”
“Why flee?” the hetman asked. “Klane can destroy more demons if they come.”
The seeker shook his head. “He killed demons. They do not allow that. They will bring hunters, two hundred of them, or they will come in twenty air-cars. They will take him away to study his brain. He has done a terrible and foolish thing.”
“What are you saying?” the hetman asked.
“That we must flee while we can,” the seeker said. “The Eye of the Moon has seen us, and now the demons will boil out of the valleys in rage.”
“No,” Klane said. “I will go to the nearest valley and slay demons. Better I die than the clan dies.”
“You are wrong,” the seeker said. “You are the Chosen One.”
“I do not understand,” Klane said.
“He is the Chosen One,” the seeker told the hetman. “But it is too soon for him to challenge the demons.”
The hetman nodded. Swiftly, he turned to the warriors. “The demons have declared war against Clan Tash-Toi. But we have a seeker among seekers named Klane. We will pry metal from their air-car to fashion greater weapons.
Then we will march to the Wild Rocks and we will hide from the valley creatures. Hurry,” he said, clapping his big hands. “We must hurry.”
Warriors ran to do his bidding.
“I’m sorry,” Klane whispered to the old man, who helped him to his feet.
“I’m not,” the seeker said. “But you must never allow the demons to capture you. You are the Chosen One, Klane. Now come, you will help me take down the tent. There is much I must tell you before the demons appear a second time.”
6
Three shifts later and 5.9 light years closer to New Eden, Dr. Wexx felt frustration and a growing sense of dread. She touched Venice’s emergency stasis cylinder where humanity’s greatest shifter slept serenely, with her hands crossed on her breasts.
Why did you go berserk? Why did you kill everyone but me in the tele-chamber?
Wexx felt uncomfortable here. Nine stasis cylinders were stacked in three rows within the cramped medical annex. The cylinders felt like coffins, where the living dead slept.
Did I skip a procedure and not realize it? Did I miss a sign? Is that why you went crazy? Wexx hated the idea that Venice’s snapping might be her fault. Methodically, she went back in her head over everything, trying to understand what had brought about the disaster.
In the dimly lit chamber, Wexx hugged herself. The historic trip to New Eden had taken over five long months. Without Venice to shift for them, it would have been twenty months to reach this far, close to two years travel time. The thought of being gone from Sol for four or five years altogether…
Wexx exhaled as a knot twisted in her chest. They needed Venice. Yet no one had the courage to wake the shifter and ask her what had happened.
What if Venice wakes up and she’s still crazy? She might start killing again. Next time, I won’t be so lucky.
If Argon would trust Jasper to report what he saw in Venice’s mind, they might try telepathic communication. But Argon refused to trust such a source.
An intercom buzzed, startling Wexx so she looked up.
“Nagasaki, here,” a voice said. “May I enter?”
“Yes,” Wexx said.
The portal opened, admitting greater light.
Captain Nagasaki stood at the entrance. “Are you any closer to discovering why Venice killed the shift crew?”
Wexx shook her head.
Nagasaki entered the cramped chamber, closing the portal. Afterward, he took what appeared to be a small communications device from his pocket.
Wexx frowned. The comm had a tiny screen with even tinier buttons below it. The buttons were so small you’d need a pointed stylus to tap them, as a finger would certainly hit several buttons at once.
With his thumb, the captain touched the screen. The device produced a high-pitched whine. He looked up and must have sensed her scrutiny.
“We may now speak freely,” he said. “This is the latest anti-bug emitter.”
Wexx managed a small laugh. “This chamber isn’t bugged.”
“The chief monitor will know I used a scrambler,” Nagasaki told her, speaking as if he hadn’t heard her words. “I doubt he will question you about it yet. I suspect it will surprise him I have one. He will wonder why, and likely, he will wait to see who else I speak with while using it. Like me, he has learned the art of patience as he hunts his enemies.”
“Why tell me any of this?” Wexx asked. The captain’s actions startled her, as did his speech. Could Argon be watching her in medical from hidden cameras?
Nagasaki nodded as if her question demonstrated refined brilliance. “The answer should be obvious why I’m telling you. You survived the Special’s attack where everyone else died.”
Nagasaki was making an error coming to her with his scrambler. She would have to report the conversation to Argon.
“Venice’s incapacity has complicated matters,” Nagasaki told her. “It will lengthen the voyage considerably. That makes certain people nervous.”
Who? Wexx wanted to ask. And why are you telling me any of this? What is going on here?
“Their nervousness threatens the unity of the crew,” Nagasaki said. “I do not desire bloodshed or mutiny. That should be obvious. I desire to complete my task.”
Wexx took a step back. “Captain Nagasaki, I will have to report your words to Chief Monitor Argon.”
The man couldn’t smile, but the man could frown. Oh, he was good at that, frowning at her intensely. “That would be a mistake,” he finally said.
“No. Your coming here was a mistake. Taking out your scrambler was a mistake. I have taken an oath of service to Premier Lang.”
“We all have,” he said.
“I keep my oaths,” Wexx said.
A few minutes ago, she would have said such a thing was impossible, but Nagasaki’s features stiffened so his face became like a mask. How could she ever have thought the captain was an emotionless man? He seethed with well-hidden passion. Likely, all monomaniacs must.
“Doctor, I am a man of my word. It is outrageous that you should suggest otherwise.”
“Me?” she asked, her voice rising.
“I have come to you in good will. I wish to forestall what some might consider mutiny. The time frame has tightened, however. If you could revive Venice…”
The captain spoke about mutiny. That meant he stood with others who must stand against the NKV. That meant these others must stand against Premier Lang and they meant to take over Discovery if they had to.
After reading his bio, Nagasaki had seemed like the last man to mutiny against the order of the solar system. He hunted cyborgs. Why would he have anything to do with those who hated Premier Lang? Maybe as critical, how had conspirators managed to get aboard the Teleship? The security for this mission had been tighter than for anything else she knew.
“Doctor?” said Nagasaki. “I asked you a question.”
Had he? What had he—oh yes. He wanted to revive Venice.
“We cannot risk revival at this time,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Have you read my report?”
The small man seemed as rigid as steel, as if she had just insulted him in some manner. “I am the captain,” he said. “I keep watch over everything that involves the safety of my ship. Of course, I have read your report. I would be negligent in my duties if I hadn’t.”
Nagasaki speaks of mutiny. That’s anarchy at its worst. Yes, I must report this to Argon.
“Do you know what caused Venice to react as she did?” Nagasaki asked.
“You don’t need a scrambler to ask me that.”
“Don’t I?”
Wexx had no idea what this insinuation meant.
“In your professional opinion then,” he said, “the shifter can no longer perform her service?”
Why is he so tense? What’s going on?
“You must answer my question,” Nagasaki said.
“Venice can’t shift again until we understand what caused her to kill the shift crew.”
“Will the other shifters hold up under the extra strain?” Nagasaki asked.
Wexx thought that a shrewd question. Jasper and especially Roxie were tiring under the stress of constant shifting. Venice had taken the majority of the load these past five months.
“Is there a real danger of another of the shifters breaking down?” he asked.
“Before Venice, I would have said no.”
“And now?” he asked.
“I believe it’s a mistake to push our shifters too hard. We must slow the shift schedule.”
“Do you think this was deliberate?” Nagasaki asked.
“I’m not sure I’m following your thinking,” Wexx said.
“I will state it baldly then. In your opinion, did Premier Lang make certain we had faulty shifters?”
“Captain Nagasaki! Premier Lang is the guiding hand of humanity. He represents order and this is the greatest mission in a thousand years. We seek to insure the survival of the human race by starting over in a perfect
system. I would think with your concern of cyborgs that—”
“The projected system is now a mere 18.69 light years away,” Nagasaki said. “With Venice, it would have been a few more jumps. With our present shifters…”
“I’m not worried about reaching New Eden,” Wexx said. “It’s going back home again that troubles me.”
Nagasaki glanced at the occupied stasis tube. He stared for some time. Finally, with his thumb, he tapped the scrambler. The high-pitched noise stopped.
“Do you—” Wexx said.
Nagasaki raised a slender hand. As he lowered his hand, he bowed his head respectfully before turning and exiting the chamber.
Wexx watched him go, wondering what she would tell the chief monitor.
Making her decision, Wexx spoke to Argon three hours later. The chief monitor stood in medical. An orderly worked in another chamber, the hatch open between the two rooms.
“I spoke with Captain Nagasaki,” Wexx said softly.
Argon listened to her. He was good at it, with his large arms folded across his chest.
“He used a scrambler. I told him I could not be party to this. He proceeded to tell me that some aboard ship are restless, possibly considering mutiny.”
“Did he indicate who these others were?” Argon asked in his deep voice.
“No.”
“Did the captain seem… like himself?”
Wexx blinked several times. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Argon seemed to think over his next words. “Has Captain Nagasaki approached you like this before?”
“Certainly not,” Wexx said. “I would have reported it if he had. What do you mean anyway, ‘Did he seem like himself?’ I find the question disturbing.”
“Doctor, Venice did not act like herself the other day in the tele-chamber. Some of the other crew…”
“Go on,” Wexx said.
The chief monitor seemed to switch gears. “There has been a rash of anomalies in behavior these past few days. You are the psych advisor. I thought perhaps you would have noticed.”
“The captain is a harsh individual and he is driven to a dangerous task.”
“No doubt you’re referring to cyborgs.”
Alien Honor (A Fenris Novel) Page 8