A Bellicose Dance

by Patrick M J Lozon

  On the planet, they left no stone unturned. Many natives were tortured, but little information was found. They had only rumors, a stolen ship, and too many dead.

  * * *

  5. Visions from the Past

  R yan, now free to move about the Xeronian colony, explored the subterranean city with the eagerness of a child. Each day's excursion was like a day in school. He had so much to learn about this new world. His mind was clear, his body healthy and free of pain. For the moment he was content.

  Tsaurau had picked up English in a matter of days. It was uncanny how fast he was able to learn. Stranger yet, other Xeronians would then talk to him in English as if they had all learned the language at once. Rarely would they speak their native language when he was present, if they would speak at all. Ryan could only surmise they had to be using something similar to telepathy.

  The Xeronians were a friendly people. Everyone greeted him with an open, sincere pleasantness that reminded him of a typical small town atmosphere back home. Numerous times he was invited to visit a Xeronian home to meet their families. They were fascinated by him. They asked him countless questions, wanting to know everything. He found himself developing a deep liking and respect for these gentle people.

  He frequented the large open caverns often. These were the parks of their world, rich in lush greenery, with strange, beautiful flora that covered rolling hills in violets, yellows, and reds. Each park held a different species of plant life and a collection of unique small mammals. Artificial suns beat down on the parks by day, and constellations of stars appeared by night. Tsaurau had told him that each cavern represented a different part of the sky of their original Xeronia.

  He felt close to Earth here. Like the bitter light of a dying candle, his memories warmed him, and haunted him. He knew time was running out for Earth, and Aviore was lost somewhere out there. The Xi-Empire casts a long dark shadow.

  Tsaurau had noticed a change in Ryan. It was subtle. Something easily overlooked by one who was not familiar with the Earthman’s mannerisms. It was his duty to help if he could. He searched him out and found him in one of the parks, sitting on a hill, overlooking a small brook. He joined him on a soft carpet of green grass.

  "How are you, my friend?"

  "Alright, I feel alright," Ryan replied quickly, brushing off Tsaurau's concern. "You know, you’ve carved out a fine world here."

  "You have changed your opinion about this planet I see."

  "Yes, I am impressed with this oasis in what at first glance would pass as hell. Its very existence is a testament to your people."

  Tsaurau remained quiet, intently watching the brook flow by, avoiding eye contact.

  "Did I offend you somehow?"

  "No.” The alien’s eyes remained fixed on a point in the gurgling stream. “You did not offend me. Memories are sometimes difficult. It is the past that is offensive."

  "I never seem to get an answer when I ask about your real home, why you left it, what happened to it."

  Tsaurau was slow to reply. "This," he said, "what you see around you, is the last desperate effort of a dying race. You state we are gifted. You marvel at our technology. You see us as advanced far beyond your own people. Yet for all of our knowledge, all of our power, we could not stop them."

  "Who? Who couldn't you stop?"

  "As I told you earlier, we had developed space travel long ago. We explored many star systems and reached into the depths of the core of the galaxy. We were not prepared for what we met. I am sure you understand by now that we are a people of peace. We constantly strive to improve, it is our... obsession, but our society is not based on advancement at the cost of others. We have no criminal element, no murderers, no thieves. Maybe that is our weakness. Maybe we need that spark of negativity in our culture. But the Par would make that unsustainable… We are here because we were, and still are, in danger. Not from some medical epidemic, nor any form of natural antagonist, but from a brutal civilization - a misunderstood, unfathomable enemy. In spite of all of our accomplishments, we lost our war. When the time came, we could not protect ourselves."

  "The Xi-Empire?"

  "Yes. Our Elders had seen our weakness. In our fledgling years of space travel, the Elder Council had ordered the construction of a planet-wide shield. It took years to conceive how we could construct it. The Elders gave us many reasons why we should expend so much energy on such a project, citing the need to protect us against asteroids and other celestial body collisions, but I knew the real reason. It was a barrier between our world and the unknown that lay outside. We could never have imagined such atrocities other beings are capable of.”

  "So they attacked you."

  "In our explorations, we have met many different races, each unique, many primitive. Our people made mistakes, assumed in their own naiveté that others were as peaceful as we are. Some of our ships were lost. Our explorers died. We adapted. We changed our policies, our directives. We know now that first contact is not always a controlled situation but none of this prepared us for the Xi-Empire.”

  “Your elders couldn’t see that?”

  “Their predictions are not… precise, you understand?”

  “Right, most likely this was a little hard for your people to believe. I get it. But you had the shield by then, right?”

  “Yes. But there was a problem. As you may have surmised, it did not take them long to locate Xeronia. They attacked and quickly discovered they could not defeat our shield. They attempted everything. They sacrificed many lives, weapons, and time in their attempts to penetrate our defenses, but they could not do it. They became frustrated and even more hostile. It was madness. We attempted to reach out to them, but it was futile. Our peace envoys were slaughtered mercilessly."

  "They wanted your technology and everything you had."

  "Yes they did, and if they were unable to take it, they would find a way to destroy it. Their bitter frustration led them in another direction, another way to infiltrate the shield. It was a weapon - a hideous creation. It fed on matter itself, consumed exponentially, an uncontrolled chain reaction that would stop only after it collapsed of its own starvation."

  "You talk as if it were alive."

  "Alive? Perhaps in some way, one could consider it such, but no, this was pure death. Strangely, they did inform us of the weapon, and they stated they would use it. We did not believe they would act so cruelly, nor that this new weapon of theirs could permeate our shield. It was wishful reflection, a desperate need to see ourselves in them. It flooded the Par, tore at our own sense of understanding. It was false hope. There were others among us who did not accept this common thought. They prepared, modeled the impact of the weapon. The projections were irrefutable. The shield, the very thing that kept us safe, would be our own demise. The contained reaction would effectively accelerate the destructive effects."

  A term he used in his last statement piqued his interest. “Before you continue, what do you mean by the Par? You’ve mentioned this multiple times.”

  “The Par is something you must experience. Words cannot fully explain. I plan to demonstrate this for you soon.”

  “Alright, that’s fair. So continuing on, what did your people do?”

  “What we did, or more accurately what we did not do - what we should have done - we should have surrendered. Instead, we held onto our false hope. Our decision was biased by our own ethics. "

  "And this was a mistake," acknowledge Ryan somberly. It was difficult to catch any emotion on the Xeronian’s features, although his eyes seemed squinted, as if he was in pain.

  "We managed to dispatch escape vessels before they activated the weapon. When they deployed it, it infiltrated the shield with ease, and wreaked pure devastation, eventually converting our planet into a temporary sun. Billions of lives lost. Why? Because they could not have Xeronia. Since they could not conquer us, they destroyed us. They are the lowest of all sentient life."

  "With all your technology, couldn't you fight back -
devise weapons and take the offensive?"

  "You do not understand. It is not our nature, Ryan. We had little in the way of weapons and lacked the will to use them. If we were more aggressive, maybe Xeronia would still exist. Our people have been at peace for millennia. We simply have no violent tendencies."

  "So you are the last.”

  "No. Multiple ships escaped. Others may have survived and their colonies may be flourishing. We do not know. To attempt communications is an unnecessary risk.”

  “So you could have other colonies out there? You may not be alone?”

  “I do not believe so, but that remains my opinion. But the Elders have not found them. Not all agree with me. A particular Elder reached out to me before the war began. She had been shunned by the council for her views and her foresight. She asked me to lead an initiative to build a fleet of interstellar colony vessels, starships specifically designed to carry as many colonists off the planet as possible. In the last days, their cargo included much of what was once Xeronia. Many Xeronians forfeited their place to save these treasures.”

  "So it was you who ended up saving your civilization – you dared to disagree with the rulers in charge. There’s a little more to you than I expected, Tsaurau. So tell me how your colony ships managed to get through your shield and get past the Xi-fleet?”

  "The expeditions left the planet at near light speed. The launch was inherently dangerous, but necessary. That precaution did not guarantee success. We lost some ships to strafing by the Xi-Cruisers. I was on the very last ship that launched. I can still remember every minute detail. The acceleration, even though we had methods to compensate the forces at work, was incredibly painful. I was more afraid during that brief interval than any other time in my life."

  Tsaurau's dark eyes searched through the spray of stars above. “There,” he said, finger pointing up to a pale blue star, “was home.”

  Ryan focused on the tiny point of light. Xeronia. A tiny blue spec of light.

  “Can you point out Earth?”

  “No, as we have not been able to find Earth as yet.”

  “Oh. I thought you knew…”

  “I’m sorry, our archives are vast, and the galaxy is much more expansive than our records. In addition, some of our archives are damaged. But I promise you we will continue to search.”

  “I would appreciate that.” Ryan grabbed a small stone and skipped it across the water. “I’d like to know where my home is.”

  “That is understandable.”

  A few moments of quiet interceded as both were lost to their own thoughts.

  Something jumped in the water, possibly a form of fish. The noise brought Ryan back to their conversation.

  “So, you made it here, what did you do with your ship?”

  "Our starship no longer exists. It was a vessel designed with intent to provide raw material for colonization. It is integrated throughout the colony's infrastructure, what you see around us. Due to measures such as this, development of our colony has stabilized. We no longer worry about mere survival. We are now able to focus our attention on our true interests, such as science, biology, technology - to continue our quest for knowledge.”

  “At least you’re safe,” acknowledged Ryan.

  "And while we forge on in relative safety, the races of the Xi-Empire continue to destroy worlds and peoples. They control their subjects using fear and repression. They have infiltrated many quadrants and are now encroaching on this very colony. Although we are well hidden, there are many of us that have grown afraid." Tsaurau looked at Ryan, features projecting an unfamiliar expression.

  Was it sadness? There was still so much he didn’t understand about these Xeronians.

  "This is why no one speaks of home. There is no turning back. Our purpose is to survive. This place is our last and only hope. If the Xi-Empire discovers this colony, we will destroy it first.”

  “You mean you’d rather kill off everyone here than allow them to take you?”

  “Yes. I do hope you understand.”

  Ryan nodded. “I do. But why not fight back?”

  "Engage in warfare? You still do not understand us, do you? Perhaps you are not capable."

  "So you’d rather die?"

  "There are some of us who still have hope, those who follow the beliefs in the Elders' words - I still have hope.”

  “Hope won’t stop a blaster, or stay a whip.”

  “We will be protected."

  "By what? Your shield couldn’t save you."

  "We will be protected by the Grafu, as prophesized."

  "Really? Sounds a bit superstitious for an advanced alien race."

  "Such inspiring words from a man who believes in the existence of luck. I admit the prophecy has taken on its own form - told to our children when they scrape their knees. The Grafu lives on a bittersweet fuel – hate, revenge, suffering to survive, a slave to his burden. It is he who will rise up and destroy the Xi-Empire."

  Ryan regarded the aliens’ story with indifferent humor. Such an advanced race, these Xeronians, but to believe in legends! It didn’t seem right.

  "Well, I hope your legend will appear soon. I think you're running out of time."

  "You must remember that the prophecies are translated from ancient tongue, and are subject to interpretative error. The Elders are not faultless. Some say that you are the Grafu. You are the one to destroy his master.”

  “Yeah, right,” Ryan spit out, laughing. “The Grafu? A destroyer of the might Xi-Empire?” He laughed again. “Bullshit.”

  “I understand your doubt. How could one destroy the whole Xi-Empire? They have conquered entire civilizations after all."

  "Right. So better tell your children I’m not your damned Grafu."

  “I did not come here to talk about Xeronia or any of this. I came here to discuss what is bothering you. I wish to help you.”

  “Help me? I’m fine. I’ve survived a lot worse than this.”

  Tsaurau’s searching black eyes would not leave him alone.

  “Really, I am fine. You have enough on your shoulders, and needn’t worry about me.”

  The alien patted Ryan on the shoulder and rose to his feet. "Tomorrow then, my friend. I will see you tomorrow." He walked away somberly, with the artificial light of two false moons illuminating his way, his thin shoulders carrying an invisible heaviness.

  Ryan watched him leave, reflecting to himself.

  These people were on the verge of utter elimination, exiled from their home world forever, to live out their lives on this desolate, unforgiving planet with an enemy at their doorstep.

  He lay back in the lush grass and stared at the artificial stars. A slight breeze brushed over him. He closed his eyes. Sleep came to him like a nurturing mother. She pulled the walls of reality away and let him dream of a golden sun hovering over gentle waves lapping onto a sandy beach. Seagulls sang to him from the skies above.

  Aviore was there.

  She was beautiful, graceful, flowing in white, coming toward him and around him. He felt the warmth of her breath, the coolness of her cheek, a wisp of a soft kiss, and then, sickeningly, she was gone, leaving only darkness, and a coldness that burrowed down into his very soul. He cried out in a slow agony and awoke. The stars glared back at him, bright and piercing. Motionless. They didn't twinkle. Stars should twinkle, shouldn't they?

  He sat up quickly. The coldness would not leave him.

  Aviore, where are you?

  * * *

  That night Tsaurau was too restless to sleep. He wandered through the corridors, his mind troubled, his thoughts in turmoil. He avoided the Par, not interested in the shared opinion of others, nor their needless urging and prodding.

  How would they survive the coming years? Their technology may cloak them for a time, but the Xi-Empire had intrusive search technologies. They had learned so little.

  He soon found himself standing in the front of the Chamber of the Elders.

  The grand doors eased open without a
sound, opening to a quiet darkness. A pale, inviting light shone from within the center of the room. He approached the light, his footsteps echoing ever so slightly with every step.

  It was said the ancients could provide guidance if one could open oneself. Sitting down crossed-legged on the floor, he sank into meditation. Years of self-conditioning kicked in. The pulse of his hearts dropped, his body relaxed into a deep transitive state. Whispers settled around him, surrounding, coaxing. He let the voices flow. They were light, wispy, indecipherable. They spoke in a tongue that he did not understand, in a soft rhythm that seemed to match the beat of his alien hearts.

  When Tsaurau broke out his trance, his body was stiff and his mind groggy. It took a moment for him to realize he was not alone. The Elders surrounded him, also sitting cross-legged, each holding the other’s hands, forming a circle. The Eldest opened her eyes, staring into Tsaurau’s. "How do you feel Tsaurau?" she asked.

  "My forgiveness, my Eldest, I was just meditating."

  "For some time now. Do you know of what you were speaking?"

  "I do not believe I was verbalizing," Tsaurau replied innocently.

  "But you were my brother! And it was in the tongue of the Ancient Ones. A simple phrase repeated over and over."

  He checked the Par. A barrage of thoughts fired through his mind, each carrying with it a different perception of his stasis. It was true. He had no idea such time had passed. His legs attested with sharp aches. He must move. "My Eldest, my conscious mind was surrendered. I know not of what I said."

  "His time is upon us." She looked into his eyes again. "Do you understand what this means?"