The Telemass Quartet

by Eric Brown

  He looked around at the surrounding jungle. “I didn’t hear a thing . . .”

  “There. I heard it again.”

  This time Hendrick did make out a sound: the distant drone of an engine.

  “Could it be Lalla?”

  “I suppose so, but . . .”She sounded doubtful. “Stay here. Don’t move.”

  She left him standing in the shadow of the temple and darted across the clearing to the pathway through the jungle. She vanished into the fronds, and a second later the sound of the engine cut out.

  He expected her to emerge smiling along the path with Lalla in tow, but when she did return, seconds later, she was alone and not smiling. She ran across to him and hissed, “The police!”

  He moved instinctively towards the entrance to the ziggurat, but she grabbed his hand and pulled him in the other direction. “They’d find us in seconds, Matt.”

  They ran around the ziggurat and Tiana pulled him into the jungle. They lashed through vines and lolling fronds, pounding through the padded loam. Tiana jinked this way and that before him. Hendrick did his best to follow. He was exhausted when she finally let up. He came to a halt, panting.

  “We . . . We could have waited for them,” he said. “Explained we’re looking for Lalla. We’re doing nothing illegal—”

  “Our very presence here is illegal, Matt,” She interrupted. “I don’t want to be arrested and spend a week in jail.”

  “They know we’re here,” he pointed out. “They must have seen our truck . . .”

  “They don’t know it’s ours, though, do they?”

  He stared at her in the half-light. “How thoroughly are they likely to search? Might they give up and head off?”

  “In your dreams. My guess is they’ll search the area and then stake out the truck, wait for us to get brave and return.”

  They fell silent and listened. All he could hear was the booming bass of the toad-analogues. “So what’s the penalty for illegally entering the jungle?”

  Tiana shrugged. “Depends on the magistrate and what the guilty party was intent on doing. I’ve heard of people being jailed for up to a couple of months.”

  “All I need,” he said under his breath.

  “Shhh!” She gripped his forearm and held on, staring at him.

  He heard it too: a footfall close by. He saw the uniformed officer through the foliage and turned to run, but a second later they were surrounded by a dozen green-uniformed men and women.

  One of their number stepped forward, and Hendrick was surprised to see the overweight officer from the night before. His sweat-soaked face showed no sign of recognition, however, as he said, “Mr Hendrick, Ms Tandra. This way, if you please.”

  Hendrick looked around at the dozen rifles aimed at them—overkill, he thought, but it did have the effect of deterring any notion of escape. He looked at Tiana and she nodded.

  They followed the officer back to the clearing, where another surprise awaited Hendrick. The man he’d apprehended last night, the middle-aged local in the sharp suit, was leaning against the ziggurat smoking his trademark cigarette.

  The officer ordered them to halt and addressed Tiana. “Permits?”

  Hendrick wondered how so sweet a face could conjure such an expression of distilled hatred.

  “Go to hell,” she said.

  “You realise,” the officer said, “that it is an offence to enter the jungle without a current certified permit, and that contravention of the ‘rights and access’ edict is punishable by imprisonment?”

  Despite the attention of the rifles, Hendrick broke from the group and strolled across the clearing towards the suited man. He was aware of a uniformed cop shadowing him.

  “I think I understand,” Hendrick said when he reached the smiling man. “A joint operation, not unlike what happened last night? Looking back, I see we were both let off rather lightly. Mr . . . ?”

  The man removed his cigarette and grinned, showing impeccable dentistry. “You may call me Mr DeVries,” he said. “And you should think twice in future about who you accost, Mr Hendrick.”

  “I’ll accost anyone I know is following me, if for no other reason than to find out exactly what they want.”

  “Not always a wise move,” DeVries said.

  He stared at the man. “What now?”

  DeVries took a last drag on his cigarette then flicked the stub to the ground. “Now you will be returned to Appallassy under police escort and incarcerated until the next Telemass transmission to Earth.”

  “I don’t think you have the wherewithal to repatriate innocent tourists,” he began.

  “Take it up with a legal representative when you get back to Earth,” DeVries said. “And the matter might be dealt with in a year or two.”

  The attendant cop grunted something, and Hendrick turned and batted the muzzle of the cop’s rifle from his lumbar region. “Chrissake . . . I’m coming, okay?”

  He returned to where Tiana was being fitted with a wrist-brace. “The bastards are touchy who they allow into their precious forest,” he said.

  “I wonder what they’re hiding.”

  A cop snapped a brace around his wrists, and another poked him in the ribs with his rifle. “Move it!”

  He winked at Tiana. “Whatever it is, they’re enjoying the opportunity to wave their weapons about. They remind me of kids in a playground . . .” He recalled making arrests himself and how annoyed and impotent he’d felt at the wisecracks of nonchalant offenders.

  They were marched through the jungle and bundled into the back of a waiting police crawler. A cop fastened his wrist-brace to a metal hook protruding from the seat between Hendrick’s thighs and then did the same to Tiana.

  DeVries sat in the front passenger seat beside the plump officer. The remaining cops piled into a police van and led the way. The crawler started up and bumped along the track.

  Tiana whispered, “I heard what the guy said, Matt.” She looked at him and smiled. “Been nice knowing you.”

  “You too, girl,” he murmured, “but we haven’t reached the Telemass Station yet.”

  She tugged at her restraints impotently. “Can’t see a way of getting out of these. You?”

  He examined the wrist-brace and the hook. “Crude but effective. We used neural-incapacitators back on Earth, which were fool-proof, but these work just as well.”

  “So it’s hopeless,” she said in a small voice.

  “Only if you allow yourself to think so,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound sanctimonious. “Think positive. Optimism increases your chances of attainting the desired outcome.”

  “You sound, if you don’t mind me saying, like a self-help manual.”

  He smiled at her then laughed at her lugubrious expression. “I’m just trying to say, stay alert and consider every eventuality.”

  She was silent for a while. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you find your ex-wife, Matt,” she said at last.

  He shrugged. “These things happen,” he said flippantly.

  She glanced at him quickly, then away. “I have something to tell you . . .” she began.

  The officer in the driving seat cried out in sudden alarm, and Hendrick looked up. At that exact second, something hit the windscreen.

  He ducked, expecting the glass to shatter, but the missile merely exploded and coated the surface of the screen with a grey, glaucous membrane.

  The crawler skidded to a halt.

  The driver exclaimed in his own language, opened the door, and jumped out. He stopped suddenly, as if hit by something, then staggered and fell to the ground. DeVries was already opening the door and climbing out, but froze at what he saw. Hendrick made out a quick white figure approaching the car, then DeVries grunted and collapsed, unconscious.

  Hendrick saw fleet movement through the side window. Tiana said his name then cried out as the door on her side was yanked open. Hendrick stared past her at the slim figure of an Avoel staring in at them with its big black eyes. He was conscious tha
t the creature did not have to stoop to regard them.

  Tiana backed off, her retreat hampered by the wrist-brace moored to the hook in the seat. As she struggled to get away, the alien leaned forward and spat at her. She jerked and cried out in alarm. The creature looked at Hendrick and spat again. Something sharp hit his cheek and he felt a stinging pain.

  His face felt numb. Reality seemed to go into a slow dissolve. It was as if he were experiencing everything at a great remove. His sense of hearing diminished, and then his vision. He was aware of someone fumbling with the wrist-brace that bound his hands. He felt small hands on his body, lifting him. He was cocooned in a silent darkness, and he was only distantly aware of being moved from the vehicle. It was as if his body were lagged in a thick insulating layer that delayed the sensation of being carried.

  He felt a mounting panic and waited for unconsciousness to claim him.

  • • •

  But unconsciousness never came.

  At least he was anaesthetised to all pain, and he ascribed this to whatever poison the Avoel had spat on him. He felt as if he were being carried along at great speed, borne feet-first on a padded conveyor belt. He wanted to call out to ensure that Tiana was with him, but he was unable to initiate the procedure. He was paralysed and experienced a surge of overwhelming panic—both at his disability and at being transported into the unknown by an alien race.

  He lost all sense of duration. He had no idea whether they had been apprehended minutes ago or hours. Later, he would claim to have enjoyed the physical sensation, if not the mental. The only comparable experience was when he had undergone an operation to remove a bullet from his shoulder, slipping into unconsciousness as the anaesthetic took effect. Then, the glorious lassitude had lasted for seconds only; now it seemed timeless.

  Presumably, he was being carried through the jungle by more than one alien creature, but he could not feel the pressure of their hands nor the impact of their feet on the ground. Only vaguely did he wonder where they might be taking him and why, but it was a woolly curiosity superseded by fear.

  When the next sensation occurred, it was so sudden and unexpected as to be shocking. The feeling of forward motion ceased abruptly, and he felt nothing. He was very still, existing in a warm, darkened limbo. He wondered if they had arrived at journey’s end.

  • • •

  Christ . . .

  I’m in a hut somewhere. The Avoel took us. Wait till Lalla finds out . . .

  Matt’s still unconscious, drugged. At least they haven’t separated us.

  Thing is, I’m not sure what might have been the best: the cops taking us back to Appallassy and deporting Matt, or this—being taken by the aliens. What the hell do they want with us?Why did they save us? The last thing I saw, before I passed out, were the cops lying in the track. The Avoel just left them there and took me and Matt . . .

  But why?

  SEVEN

  HENDRICK WAITED, AND YET AGAIN IT WAS A PERIOD without duration. He became aware of the faint light and then the sound. The darkness was gradually replaced by a verdant gloaming, as if he were lying at the bottom of an aquarium. He heard the calls of animals and the dull booming bass note that was like the heartbeat of the jungle. Then bodily sensation returned little by little. He felt solid ground beneath his back. He inhaled the odour of loam and vegetation and another, distinct scent—sour and astringent and unlike anything he’d experienced before.

  He blinked and stared up at something a metre or so above him. It was like a visual puzzle, the close-up detail of something much larger. He made out an interlacing lattice of brown threads as thick as his fingers. Then something clicked in his head and he knew he was gazing up at the underside of a sloping, woven ceiling. He was lying in some kind of tentshaped hut.

  Only then did he see the Avoel.

  The alien was squatting beyond his feet, watching him with its blank black eyes in its expressionless face. When he lifted his head to look at it, the creature moved suddenly, twisted without standing, and slipped out of the hut. Hendrick realised the source of the sour stench; it was the alien’s body odour.

  He turned his head, relieved to see Tiana lying beside him. She reached out and took his hand.

  He kissed her knuckles. “You okay?”

  “I feel . . . still a bit odd. As if I’m not really here.” She looked at him. “I wonder why they took us?”

  “Ah . . . now that’s the question.” He looked at the triangular flange that was the door of the hut through which the alien had vanished. “I’m going to take a look outside.”

  He squatted and moved to the entrance, pushed it open, and stared out. “Christ . . .” he exclaimed.

  Tiana called, worried, “What is it?”

  “I thought, I assumed, we were on the floor of the jungle.”

  “We’re not?”

  “Come and have a look.”

  He moved from the entrance of the hut and sat down, making room for Tiana.

  She emerged and sat cross-legged beside him, exclaiming softly, “It’s . . . But it’s beautiful.”

  They were sitting on a bracket fungus perhaps a hundred metres long and as many broad. The bracket or shelf was attached to the trunk of a giant tree, and they looked down on a limitless expanse of green jungle canopy. What was so breathtaking, however, was not the rolling plain of the treetops but the boiling hemisphere of Fomalhaut that spanned the horizon with its slow, majestic geysers of fire and loops of ejecta.

  He saw other small huts dotted across the shelf and a dozen Avoel sitting in groups of two or three and talking quietly amongst themselves.

  Tiana shook her head. “I never realised they lived like this, Matt. I assumed they dwelled on the ground.”

  They sat in silence, gazing at the fulminating primary. He looked across at the aliens. It was as if they were purposefully ignoring him and Tiana, as if the presence of the humans elicited no curiosity whatsoever. He realised the mistake of assuming that aliens would react to stimuli as would humans. They were alien, after all, and they did things differently.

  Tiana murmured, “What do you think they want with us?”

  He thought about it. “They took us,Tiana. Just us. Not DeVries or the police.” He shrugged. “That must be significant.”

  She looked at him. “They saved us from them,” she said.

  “We could look at it that way, yes.”

  He reached out and stroked the surface of the fungus. It bore a soft knap, like mushroom-coloured velvet.

  She said, “But why, Matt? That’s what I want to know.”

  He glanced at the sun. Was it his imagination or did its diameter— from one side of the far horizon to the other—appear broader now?

  “Tiana . . .” He pointed. “Look.”

  She squinted at the sun and then at him. “What about it?”

  “We arrived at the Avoel temple complex around midday, yes? We were arrested and the Avoel intervened about fifteen minutes later. How long do you think we were drugged?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. An hour or two?”

  He nodded. “That’s what I thought. A few hours, at most. So . . .” he said, indicating the fiery hemisphere again, “The sun should be going down, shouldn’t it?”

  She nodded and peered at the sun. “And it isn’t?”

  “It’s rising, Tiana. We must have been drugged for around thirty hours.”

  He heard movement behind them, beyond the hut, and turned. A dozen Avoel slipped through an elliptical rent in the bole of the tree, moving with a lithe, bobbing motion as they approached where Hendrick and Tiana sat.

  They were followed by a taller figure, who squeezed through the slit with difficulty—a small, dark human with a thin face and a severe crew cut.

  Tiana gasped. “Lalla!”

  She sprang to her feet and rushed over to the woman. They embraced and kissed cheeks, French fashion. As they exchanged greetings, Hendrick found it touching to witness Tiana’s relief at being reunited with he
r lover.

  The dozen Avoel approached him and dropped into squatting postures, staring at him in silence with their vast jet-black eyes.

  Their attention was unsettling. He smiled at them, uneasy, then glanced back at the women. Tania grasped Lalla by the hand and they crossed the fungus towards him.

  “You seem well, Hendrick,” the woman said, business-like. “Sometimes the shelth the Avoel use can leave you feeling nauseous.”

  They sat down before Hendrick and Lalla turned to the aliens. She spoke quickly in what was evidently their own language, and they rose and padded away across the shelf.

  “Thank you for saving us,” Hendrick said.

  “You should thank the Avoel,” Lalla said. “I would have been powerless without them.”

  “But they acted under your instructions?”

  The woman had a rather severe face, whose default expression was one of suspicion. Hendrick wondered if she were wary of all men or just him in particular—and, if so, whether that was because of his relationship with Tiana.

  “That is so.” She stared at him then said, “Did you wonder how the police managed to track you in the jungle?”

  “I hadn’t given it much thought.”

  She gave a superior smile. “At some point, the police must have had access to your ID-pin.”

  In the alley, back at Allay . . . “That’s right.”

  “They loaded it with a signalling virus. All DeVries had to do was follow the signal.”

  “Who is this DeVries?” he asked.

  “The local police chief and a high-up in the Church,” Lalla told him. “I searched you while you were unconscious, Hendrick, found your compromised pin and gave it to an Avoel with instructions to head north through the jungle. When DeVries and his goons wake up, they’ll be left chasing shadows.”

  “Resourceful,” he said. “But why go to the trouble of rescuing us?”

  She hesitated then said, “I would like you to return to Earth.”

  He smiled. “In that, you share a desire with the police.”

  “Return to Earth,” she went on, staring at him, “with evidence of what the Church of the Ultimate Redemption is doing here.”