Whatever Gods May Be

by George P. Saunders

  By remaining in the valley, though, the numbers of the enemy could be more effectively contained. Even if a few of the monsters slipped by, they would be trapped within the canyoned area. With the tribe safely on the mountain, a few Stingers could almost leisurely backtrack and pick off those clever few they had missed the first time.

  Thalick admitted that everything sounded wonderful in theory, but that any number of problems could develop which could put the tribe in jeopardy. For example, if the Redeyes chose to attack at this moment, everyone would be caught unprepared. The tribe would be slaughtered. Ordinarily, their acute senses could detect any likelihood to an approaching peril, and the Stingers would have been comfortably prepared for any contingency. But the Thelericks had also suffered impairment. The Dark, while killing off the human race, had succeeded in debilitating many of the superior functions a Thelerick Stinger once possessed. The process had been ongoing for thousands of years, but now, especially with the Dark's maniacal behavior of the past day, the Stingers were especially vulnerable to its uncanny forces. Consequently, like damaged radar stations, the Stingers were forced to conduct most of their sensory abilities on those of sight and sound. And while it was mildly frustrating to them, this superior advantage lost could well mean extermination for the entire tribe.

  To ponder in depth what was causing the Dark to manifest such critical behavior - and at such an inopportune time - was clearly futile for Thalick to consider. Clearly, it was linked to the flying machine that had dropped from within, and which he and Valry had so impetuously set out to find.

  How stupid that decision had been!

  He might as well have killed the girl himself when allowing her to accompany him on the exploration. Now, almost two days later, Valry was lost, possibly dead, and Thalick had still not completed his task of finding the disabled spacecraft which was no doubt the cause of every problem thus far.

  Again, there was little time now to speculate further on what the Dark was doing; no mystery was involved to glean that its influence was increasing hourly, sapping not only what little vitality remained among the tribesman, but also the most useful technical assets the Thelericks themselves could offer. For the first time since their arrival to this doomed planet, Thalick realized that a direct peril now threatened the continued efficiency of himself and his associates -- and for all they knew, quite possibly their lives as well. If the tribe could not be saved, then the Sentinel would have to look to the next task at hand: somehow evacuating his own kind off the world, or at least to a place where the oppressive phenomenon of the Dark could be resisted.

  Now, however, the tribe took first priority in terms of salvation. And though Thelerick integrity and compassion would see to it that the tribe was defended to the last, dreadful moment, Thalick himself would stay by the tribe for much more personal reasons than his duty bound associates.

  He would, of course, do it for Valry.

  A low, haunting wind had come out of the west now -- roughly the direction of the crater valley where Valry had last been seen. It whined through the malformed leaves of the nearby forest, then stirred up small dust devils near the valley entrance before blowing out to the desert. Out of nine hundred remaining tribes people, only fifty of the largest men were working now on Phillips' firebreak or bundling up tents and shelters. So many had sickened suddenly in the past day, growing weak and dying in only hours. Thalick was suddenly aware that even if escape was possible from the desert vampires, how much longer could the tribe survive with the Dark now stronger than ever before. If the tribes sudden malaise was attributed to the Dark's abrupt expanse, which Thalick had no doubt that this was the case, than every one of the giant humans would be dead within days.

  One of the humans was now approaching him, waving and grunting wildly. Using a poor imitation of the language Phillips had taught for so many years, he beckoned the Stinger excitedly.

  "You come, Thalick, please now," the big man pleaded, pounding on the Stinger's claw desperately. "Please," he repeated again, then disappeared into the blackness.

  Thalick followed, passing Phillips tent quietly then crossing the stream where the man had disappeared. Torches beamed ahead, as three or four of the tribesman huddled close together, staring into the dark. Thalick approached behind them and looked ahead.

  An enormous boulder, at least the size of any Stinger, was suspended in mid-air. Moans of incomprehension buzzed through the small crowd witnessing the impossible apparition. Thalick hissed with interest and attempted to determine what was keeping the rock aloft. Alas, within seconds, he could tell there was no easy explanation.

  Four other Stingers approached, equally fascinated as Thalick and the frightened tribesman. For five minutes, no one did anything but stare. Finally, Thalick stepped forward to within inches of the hanging stone. He reached out a claw for a test rap.

  Suddenly, the boulder moved -- away from Thalick's probing pedal pap. Still no power source was registering, which not only frustrated Thalick but momentarily caused him to question his own senses. He was immediately assured by the other Stingers, however, that the same anomaly applied for them...what was keeping the boulder airborne was simply unexplainable.

  The boulder continued moving away from the small group of humans and Stingers. Still ahead of the rest, Thalick again edged forward, pincher raised in question. Almost playful, the boulder streaked out of claw reach once more, this time moving up the far slope leading to the passes out of the valley completely.

  Suddenly, Thalick grew excited. It was almost too much to hope for but what if?.

  Hissing his instructions to his fellow Thelericks, Thalick crawled up the ridge, following the boulder until both he and it vanished from view.

  There go the loves that wither,

  The old loves with wearier wings;

  And all dead years draw thither,

  And all disastrous things;

  Dead dreams of days forsaken,

  Blind buds that snows have shaken,

  Wild leaves that winds have taken,

  Red strays of ruined springs.

  FORTY

  Very little filled the she-vampires mind except thoughts of blood, but sometimes, on the rarest of occasions, visions of places and things darted into her putrid soul that were disturbing for her. Like the unknowing twitch of nerves that still animated a lifeless corpse, her memories of a mortal life were sporadic and uncontrolled. It did not fight to preserve those alien pictures of an existence long since gone, and in fact almost resented their intrusion. But they could not be ignored, and as they had done now, they had caused her to act uncharacteristically - and in fact, without precedence - with regard to the dying girl that the King had found in the caves.

  Snapping at the cool breeze from the sea, the vampire lowered Valry's body to the sandy ground. She turned around quickly and regarded the city several miles away. She would go no further. Her planning had allowed only that she would get the girl away from the King and the city; her mind could not make adjustments for further action. Her decision to rescue Valry had been a purely emotional one, and like a desperate animal that had succeeded in dragging its young away from potential danger, the she-Redeye was satisfied that this was all she was capable of doing. She would return from whence she came, and never give the girl another thought. That part of the vampire's conscience in leaving Valry on the beach unprotected had been scorched away by the festering unholiness which burned strongly inside of her. Had she stayed another moment, perhaps all the muted instincts of her transformed nature would compel her to devour the creature she had just saved. The vampire seemed to understand this, and turned to go.

  Valry moaned and opened her eyes. The Redeye glanced behind herself at the awakening girl. For a split second, there was a tenuous link of communication. A sharing took place that transcended all former hates and fears; a sharing that was familiar only to those bound to desperate circumstances, who could look forward to no saving hope of a future. In one glance, all gratitude
was expressed by the dying girl that was unmistakable to the vampire watching her. At the same time, Valry could discern the expression of something more than charity in the vampire's hideous eyes. For only a second, through her cold interior, the she-Redeye radiated a spark of warmth that touched Valry in a way that made the girl, despite her searing agony, smile faintly with understanding.

  The vampire alternately snarled and whimpered as it turned to go. Even embodied in so much evil, a trace of goodness and love had battled itself to the surface. For just a moment, the Redeye felt almost human again. She had committed itself to an act of remembered love that had transcended even her own vile, sense of purpose. Selflessly, and at great risk, she had overextended herself. The King would return, and once having discovered her act, he would destroy her instantly.

  But now, the vampire didn't care. She had succeeded in completing her task. The girl was safe. As only a mother could do with almost sublime joy, she had sacrificed her own life for that of another.

  Valry reached out a hand to the Redeye.

  The vampire growled, but stepped forward tentatively. Slowly, she raised her own diseased limb and held it out to the girl. They touched each other for only a moment, before Valry again closed her eyes in sleep.

  Like a tortured dog plagued by a full moon, the vampire gave an unearthly howl to the starless night above. She released the girl's hand and replaced it gently over her chest. Moving her cracked, enslimed lips, the she-vampire attempted to form a name; a name that she had remembered from her remote past which had once come so easily, and with so much joy.

  But the effort went unrewarded.

  Gently, the she vampire stroked Valry's hair for the last time. A moment later, and she disappeared into the night.

  FORTY-ONE

  In its own way, the Rover was also dying.

  It accepted this realization without remorse, though a certain amount of confusion surrounded the chain of events which had led up to its doom. Foremost among the mysteries of how it had suffered so much damage, was the question of its present situation. The central computer core had been restored, which allowed the ship its equivalent of a wake-up call to the environment around it. What the Rover found was at least partially reassuring. For one thing, Zolan was nowhere to be found. Under the circumstances, this could only be a fortuitous omen -- for the ship appeared to be surrounded by several tons of corrosive salt water.

  Sitting on a rocky shelf nearly ten miles from shore, the Rover had been dragged to the bottom by the powerful undertow of the receding wave. Most of its inner chambers had been flooded, and only the main flight deck was not water logged. Since this was the most upper portion of the Rover, the water quickly rising through the rest of the ship had yet to invade this far above. Replenished at least partially, the Rover now took immediate action to preserve its one and only untouched chamber.

  Sluggishly, the heavy doors slid over the connecting tubes between levels, sealing off the part of the ship that was completely dry. A minute systems check informed the Rover's probing brain that only a limited amount of power had been restored to its drive propulsion system. This part of the ship had a sealed housing which was impervious to even any outside force, so at least there was no danger of flooding.

  Unfortunately, many of the ships detailed stabilizers that usually aided it in flight had been irreparably burned out. Through sheer, brutal force, the Rover would now have to blast itself off of the deep bottom, while concurrently flushing out its ballast.

  Igniting its tortured engines, the Rover growled into action, then rocketed upward. Bursting through the waves, the ship lumbered over the surface for a few minutes, allowing its flooded compartments to drain entirely. It then shut off the drive unit, and fell back into the water where this time it remained afloat.

  Feeling infinitely better, the Rover then opened all communication channels at its disposal, hoping that somewhere far out on the coastline, Zolan was waiting for a signal. It transmitted a feeble beacon, because most of its charge batteries were still hopelessly weak, but the ship realized that what little power was generated would be sufficient to register on Zolan's COM link watch.

  Attempting to amplify its signal, the Rover suddenly noticed an incoming pulse that was most unusual, mainly because it was coming in on a channel that the ship thought had long become obsolete. The peculiar frequency was emanating from the shattered Hall unit.

  Identify," the Rover relayed in over twenty thousand languages available in its linguistic banks.

  A high-pitched, barely audible whisper came over the speakers in the form of an annoying buzz. The Rover repeated its identification request, but no answer other than the mindless drone echoed through the Hall unit. The source of the erratic beam was fortunately strong and would allow the ship to trace it to its origins. The Rover did not attempt to communicate again; plugging into the transmitter's trajectory, the ship calibrated a course for itself to follow.

  Once again, the tired drive shaft of the starship was switched on, and within seconds was propelling its disabled bulk over the choppy surface of this alien sea.

  Though primary focus was devoted to isolating and navigating on the buzzing transmission, the Rover was still not incapable of performing a variety of other functions. It presently became very intrigued with the atmospherics above. Curious, the Rover sent out an electronic probe to one of the black segments it had earlier noticed floating against the grayness overhead. The sky seemed to be littered with the things, though they were clearly not part of a natural cloud formation.

  A message returned.

  The Rover gulped in electronic horror. The ship issued another probe to verify the initial findings. But the reply was the same. As the coastline appeared ahead, the ship could discern the mottled ruins of the ancient city sinking into the beach. No probe was needed here, for the ship instantly recognized the rubble from its historical and demographic tapes taken back on Earth. A dreadful puzzle quickly came together for the battered ship. There was no mistake.

  The Hall had brought them back to Earth.

  Suddenly, the buzzing pulse ceased. This did not perturb the already shocked Rover, since it had already gauged a transmission location. This almost became of secondary importance, though, as the ship meditated on its recent discovery. The ramifications were dreadful to contemplate, but nothing so unpleasant as what the Rover imagined Zolan's reaction to the news would be once he was told.

  That is, of course, if Zolan was still alive.

  He was suddenly so tired, barely able to keep his eyes open. He studied the Birdog next to him; she, too, was weak and lethargic. She had tried to fly across the craters, but her strength had diminished within only a few minutes. She could not even have supported Zolan on her back; consequently, both the Birdog and the man had walked along the edges of the great craters for several hours. At last, they were forced to rest; in fact, they could do nothing more than collapse.

  Zolan slept; so did the Birdog.

  An hour passed and Zolan bolted up to a resting elbow.

  He stared into the darkness. Next to him, the giant Birdog remained asleep. He reached over and pat her head.

  "Zolan!"

  The voice called out from only inches away. Zolan froze. Zolan glanced at the Birdog to she if she too had heard the beckon. But the exhausted animal was oblivious to everything.

  Was this still part of the dream, Zolan wondered momentarily.

  "Valry?" Zolan questioned unsurely.

  She appeared out of nowhere, more beautiful than at any time Zolan remembered seeing her in his cloudy visions. He rubbed his eyes, to make sure that even now he was not still sleeping, then pinched himself for good measure. Most definitely, he was awake.

  He could not recall when he had been so happy to see anyone in his entire life.

  And he could not, for the life of him, explain why.

  Rising slowly to his feet, Zolan could feel his legs tremble beneath him. Valry held her hands out to him.

&nbs
p; Zolan approached her slowly. Then, very slowly he touched her face, sighing audibly when his fingers made contact with living flesh.

  Valry smiled then closed her eyes. Zolan leaned over very carefully and kissed her. She fell into his arms, and he held her tightly.

  "You're real," he whispered, his own eyes closed and tearful.

  He didn't want to let her go. Nothing else mattered but her; if only this embrace could last forever, he thought in wild desperation. How perfect: Yet, he knew that somehow it could not, and slowly he released his hold of Valry and looked into her eyes.

  "I love you," he said, not believing what he was hearing himself saying.

  Valry was crying. "I love you, Zolan. I always have, from the first moment I saw you. That's why I came."

  "Don't go again," Zolan found his voice.

  "I'm not even here. What I am now is something you could not understand."

  Zolan took her hands and squeezed them. "But I feel you; I see you. What-"

  Valry put one finger to his lips and smiled. "Yes, I'm real to you, Zolan. Because you love me. And," Valry closed her eyes in gratitude, "because I prayed for this brief moment with you, and my prayer was answered. Soon, that part of me which is no longer mortal will love you in a different way -- a much better way, Zolan."

  Zolan shook his head in bewilderment.

  "What do you mean?" he asked plaintively.

  "You will understand in time, my love."

  "Stay here," Zolan insisted desperately, "I want to learn about you. I don't even know you."

  "Yet you love me." Valry said.

  "Yes," Zolan replied, a little startled. "I do. I don't know why, but I do love you." Zolan said with childish sincerity. "Tell me about yourself. Where do you come from?"