Watchstar

by Pamela Sargent

  She gasped and doubled over. She fell to her knees, clasping her legs with her arms, pressing her head against her thighs. She was a ball of dust clinging to the bottom of a vast black plain. The world tilted and she was clinging to the side of a cliff. Her stomach shifted and she felt nauseated. A bitter taste filled her mouth.

  She shielded her mind, trying to reason. She had to go on; even moving through the nothingness would be better than this. She took a breath carefully, believing for a moment that only nothingness would fill her lungs. There was still air around her. The darkness had to be an illusion.

  She rose, balancing carefully on her feet. She took a step. There was ground beneath her, even though she could not feel it. She concentrated on that, trying to sense the earth. She took another step and felt solidity. She walked slowly, arms out, feeling as though she was on a rope stretched between two trees. She opened her eyes. The nothingness was grayer, not as dark.

  She thought: I must find the others. She reached out, sensing only a faint cry; she could not touch them. The grayness became a fog. She walked through it, still unable to sense distance, wondering if she was going in the right direction; she saw herself wandering off, trapped somewhere far from the others. No, she told herself, I'm facing the way I should go, it doesn't matter, the fog will clear and I'll see where I am. The grayness clung to her, as thick as ever.

  A voice spoke to her from deep inside her head: This is nothingness, this is separateness, you are already dead and apart from the Merged One. She cried out, wondering if that was true, if she was struggling for no reason. She would walk on, and at the end there would be only oblivion. She trembled, wondering which would be worse, finding oblivion or struggling through the thick fog forever. I'm not dead, she told herself, I'm not dead, and if I were, it wouldn't matter whether I thought I was or wasn't, so I must believe I'm alive.

  She pressed on, hearing another shriek more clearly. She could not tell whether it was inside her or outside. The shriek rose and broke, scattered by the fog. She kept moving, trying to remember her mental disciplines, her training, all of which seemed useless to her now. She shuddered, and tried to control herself. Look with your eyes, she told herself, hear with your ears, see what is there.

  She looked down at her feet. Beneath the cloudy fog, she thought she saw dirt and sand. She looked up and caught a glimpse of sky. She walked more quickly now, afraid to slow down. She called to Harel, trying to find him, searching through the masses of mist. She heard an echoing cry.

  The grayness grew lighter. Ahead, she saw a small dark shape. She approached it and stretched out a hand. She felt a prickliness and drew back. A cactus. She trembled with relief. Slowly the cactus took shape, green and solid. She fell down next to it and sobbed until she was exhausted.

  She lay very still, eyes closed as she rested. At last she looked up. The fog was receding; the sky was growing lighter. The sun was beginning to rise. Her muscles were stiff. She glanced around her, suddenly realizing how far she had traveled in the night. She tried to orient herself, and found she was not far from where she was to meet the others.

  Daiya rose, stamping her sore, blistered feet. She moved on, almost expecting the desert to disappear again. It remained, arid and empty, growing warmer in the morning light. Tiny figures moved in the distance, coming closer to her. She moved more quickly, then began to run, ignoring her aches and blisters, calling to the others mentally. Then her legs gave way and she pitched forward. The earth hit her and she lay still, drained and tired. The weight of the sack pushed against her shoulders, holding her down.

  She forced herself up again and staggered on, watching the others grow a bit larger. She fell again, and rested on her side. She untied her sack and let it slip off her back. Exhausted, she waited.

  As her companions drew nearer, Daiya noticed that there were only five of them. She squinted, unable at first to tell who was missing. One crumpled and lay on the ground, blonde hair against the earth: Mausi. The bulky Tasso continued to move on thick legs. Peloren weaved along, swaying back and forth; Harel strode, shoulders slumped. Oren lurched along, his head rising and falling with each step. Sude was absent.

  —Sude—Daiya called. Harel caught the name and shook his head. She swept the area, trying to sense where Sude was. The others began to drop, paces away, their faces indistinct, their thoughts attenuated.—Sude—she called again.

  —He's dead—someone answered. The thought pierced her. She shook her head, denying it silently.

  —He's dead—Peloren had said it. She looked toward the girl.—I can't find him—Peloren went on.—I can't feel him anywhere, he's gone—

  Daiya clasped her hands together and drew them to her chest. Sude had been right; he had seen his death approaching. She had been wrong. She tried to imagine how he must have felt when the darkness surrounded him, and wondered if he had died cursing her. He's with the Merged One, she told herself, if I had let him go before, he would have died condemned. The words seemed hollow, only a feeble way to justify what she had done.

  Peloren rose and began to weave her way toward Daiya, her sun-streaked hair bobbing against her shoulders. There was blood on the front of her tunic, a bruise on her forehead, holes in the knees of her trousers. A wave of despair rushed from her mind, sweeping over Daiya. She was inside Peloren for a moment, stumbling through the black nothingness, tearing at herself to make sure she was still alive, mind raging out of control. Peloren, she realized, was still trapped in the darkness, still seeing it. She was bleeding badly, unable to make the blood clot. Daiya pulled her mind away.

  —Sit down, rest—Daiya cried. Peloren stood still, her eyes looking about wildly. Then she fixed her eyes on Daiya, as if seeing through the darkness at last. Her hatred burned.

  —The Net's gone—Peloren's mind wailed.—We're all alone, we're finished. It's all your fault, you with your separateness and your visions—

  Daiya threw up her wall.

  —It's too late for that—Peloren went on.—You saw an illusion, oh, yes, I know you did. You gave in to it, you shook the Net, and now it's gone—

  Daiya trembled behind her wall. It couldn't be true. The Net was gone from all of them, not just her. It was part of the ordeal, it had to be. She considered that; why would the village isolate them, force them into isolation and into a reliance on individual strengths, in order to see who was best suited to become part of the community? It seemed a contradiction.

  She tried to get up. She could not move. Peloren held her; she was pounding against her wall, ready to tear it apart. She felt rage; she longed to strike out at Peloren. Her wall shook and crumbled. Lightning leaped from the other girl, stabbing Daiya. She screamed and reinforced the wall; if she lashed out, she would die. She would expose herself to Peloren's anger and might accidentally harm her companion; the trip back had weakened the other girl more. Peloren was battering against her; she could not even cry out for help.

  Her wall held. Someone else was aiding her defense. She touched Harel's mind; he and the others were lending her some of their strength, weak as they were. She suppressed the urge to fight Peloren.

  Her body was moving. Peloren was lifting her from the ground with her mind. Daiya resisted. She rose a few paces and hovered. Then she fell, bruising her knees.

  Peloren was lying on the ground, hands out. Daiya reached out tentatively; the girl was unconscious. She hurried toward Peloren and knelt next to her, turning her over gently. She still bled; her mental field was weak and fading.

  Daiya looked around frantically. Harel was coming toward her, his shoulders slouched. She reached out to him with her mind and clasped his. They wove themselves together and focused on Peloren, stanching the flow of blood. They reached inside her, trying to help her heal.

  Peloren was slipping away. Daiya pulled at the others; Mausi was weak, Oren exhausted. She touched Tasso; he linked his mind with hers. Harel strained to hold Peloren, the girl was growing weaker even with the aid of Tasso's strength. Daiya longed
for the Net. They were too weak without it; they would lose Peloren.

  They reached deep inside the girl. She had no reserves left; they were gone, dispersed during her display of rage against Daiya. Her will had drowned in her despair. Peloren's mind drifted, slippery.

  Suddenly she opened her eyes and stared calmly and hopelessly at Daiya for a moment.—Pray for me—she thought. The image of people praying was blurry and indistinct. She began to slip away.

  Daiya clung to her; Tasso channelled more of his strength to the girl. Peloren still prayed, preparing herself for death.—You can't, you mustn't—Daiya thought.—Don't give up now, you can still fight it, you can live. We'll help you heal—

  Peloren closed her eyes. Daiya was trapped with her in darkness. Peloren pulled her into the blackness. They were rushing down a dark tunnel, moving faster and faster, bound together. Ahead, Daiya saw something flicker briefly—a light, a mind. It was drawing them toward itself. She sighed with Peloren, content now, accepting their fate.

  Suddenly Daiya was wrenched into daylight. Her mind floated above her; her body was sprawled on the ground. She pulled her mind inside herself and raised her head slowly. She knelt over Peloren. The body was still, the golden-streaked hair tangled in the dirt and dust. Harel was closing the eyes. Peloren was not there any more; she was gone.

  Harel took her hand.—You almost died too, I didn't know if I could reach you in time—

  She looked up, past his face, toward the sky. High above them, black birds were beginning to circle, awaiting more deaths. She shook her head.—We have to bury her—she murmured.—We can't leave her here, we have to bury her—

  —Not now, we can't worry about that now—

  —We have to find Sude—

  —Daiya, he's dead—Harel pulled her to her feet. She stepped over the body and stumbled past him, then fell to the ground. Tasso was inside himself again, glancing around fearfully. Daiya began to shake. She pressed her fists against her heaving chest. She felt as though the others were drawing away behind walls.

  —No—Harel thought.—We must weave ourselves together, it's the only way we can live without the Net. That must be what the Merging Ones would expect us to do—The others did not hear him. Daiya felt the terror of Oren. Mausi, blinded by panic, was screaming; the desert had vanished before her eyes. Daiya reached inside her friend, trying to calm her, and was thrust away.

  Then the desert began to change. Daiya heard another scream, the scream of a desert wind. It rose, lifting the sand, whirling it around them, stinging their faces with the tiny grains. At its center, she saw a black, shapeless mass. The mass contorted. It floated up, became a black pillar, then a formless creature with long flowing limbs. The wind howled.

  Desperately, Harel was trying to hold them together, reaching for each mind. He brushed against Daiya. The others were fleeing. Oren was running; Tasso was flying, wasting his strength on retreat. Daiya reached for Mausi again. The other girl threw herself in the air and then fell several paces from the black beast. It grew toward her, waving a dark tentacle. Mausi screamed and lifted from the ground, moving west toward the mountains.

  Daiya, facing the black creature, could no longer control herself. The thing floated in front of Harel, blocking her view of him. It was becoming larger. Unable to stop herself, she ran, sand stinging her eyes. She glanced back; the black thing howled. Harel was curled in front of it, walls up, his head under a tentacle as the thing reached for him.

  Daiya called to him and was torn away, thrown through the air. The ground hurtled past her; she lay passively on the wind, unable to fight. At last she threw up her hands and slowed herself. She was dumped on the ground. She rolled and sat up. Harel had vanished inside the thing; it was growing larger, eating the desert, devouring the sky. It flowed over Mausi, swallowing her. It stretched a limb toward Tasso.

  Daiya realized she had no more strength. She could not fight this thing; it had no mind, nothing to grasp. It settled on the earth; light wavered at its edges as if the rays were bent. Then she heard a humming, a sound she could not place, but which was strangely familiar. She turned her head.

  Reiho's craft was landing several paces behind her.

  Enraged, she managed to stand. She saw the door of the craft open as she turned toward it. Reiho stepped out and stared at her curiously. The black thing shrieked. Reiho did not seem to notice. Daiya shook; the thing would kill him and she would let it. He deserved it, he had no business here.

  “You are hurt,” he called as he came toward her. The thing moved toward her too; it would swallow them both. She threw up her wall. The boy vanished, hidden by darkness. A black tentacle touched her, so cold it burned. She was alone, so solitary she could not bear it. She longed to tear down the wall, anything to rid herself of the feeling. She was trapped in nothingness; the world was inside her. Her wall was crumbling. The thing would touch her mind and she would die.

  A voice called to her. She buttressed her wall, struggling to hold it together. She felt her hands in front of her face, but she could not see them; there was only emptiness before her. She would die; she knew that now. They would all be punished for being unable to unite. She would die alone, and the black birds would pick her bones.

  Then she saw a face—Reiho's. He was bending over her. He stood up. The blackness was all around him, but he was not touched by it. He walked through it, his body surrounded by a shield of light.

  She reached out cautiously with a mental strand, afraid for a moment that the dark beast would shatter her wall. She touched Reiho, and managed to peer through his eyes. His mind was in turmoil. She looked through his eyes. She saw the desert and the other young people huddling against the ground. Reiho could not see the thing, could not hear the shriek, could not feel the wind. His ears heard only a few moans; his body felt the sun's heat. He stood, arms out, untouched.

  She withdrew. Her fingers dug into her shoulders as she wrapped her arms around herself. The blackness had turned gray. “Can't you see it?” she cried.

  “See what?” Reiho answered.

  And the creature was gone.

  The air was still; the sun shone. The desert was before her, unchanged. Her companions knelt on the ground, their minds behind walls. They were still inside the dark mindless mass, trapped inside it; she felt their desperation. But she was outside it, free.

  Reiho came to her and knelt at her side. “What is happening here?” he asked.

  She drew back from him. “Didn't you see it at all?” But she knew he had not.

  His dark eyes stared through her; his pupils were pinpoints. “There is death here,” he muttered. “My sensors showed me that. Someone has died.”

  “You should not be here.”

  “What was I to do?”

  She reached for his mind. The boy was at war with himself. Had he possessed mental powers, a storm would be forming above them.

  “I know you do not want me here,” the boy went on. “But I could not stand by without trying to help. Why are the others kneeling there? Tell me what to do.” She felt his struggle. His curiosity had not brought him this time, only his concern. She could not condemn him for that.

  “Listen to me,” she said as calmly as she could. “You must leave, that is how you can help. You can't see it, but you have given me a way to help my friends. But you can do nothing for them yourself, and if you stay, you will endanger yourself and the others. Please believe me. You must go.”

  He shook his head. “There must be something I can do. Are they sick? I have medical supplies, and I can give them food and water.”

  “Please listen to me.” If her companions noticed the boy, the shock, combined with the ordeal, might damage them severely. She realized that she did not care as much about Reiho's safety, and felt ashamed. “You must go. I'll help them.”

  He stood up and studied her for a few moments. She gazed into his eyes, pleading silently. “Very well,” he said at last as he turned toward his craft. He pointed to the mountains
in the southwest. “I shall be there, if you need me.”

  “I won't need you. I won't see you again.”

  His mouth was set in a firm straight line. He strode toward his vehicle and climbed inside. It rose and flew away, skimming near the ground.

  Daiya waited, expecting the dark mass to reappear, but it was gone. She reached for Harel's mind and touched a wall; she sensed the darkness surrounding him. Reiho had not seen it; he had walked through it, undisturbed. It was an illusion, created out of their fear, their separation from the Net. It did not exist. The Merging Ones had been right; they had come out here to meet only what was inside themselves.

  She trembled. She could save the others with that knowledge, show them the creature was not there, if she could only reach them. She drew away from Harel; his wall was strong, he was resisting.

  She reached for Mausi. Her wall was crumbling; the darkness and loneliness permeated her now.—It isn't real—Daiya cried to her friend.—Mausi, it isn't there, look with your eyes, hear with your ears. It isn't there—But Mausi fortified her wall, pushing Daiya's mind away.

  She turned to Oren. Suddenly the small thin boy stood up, screaming. He tore up the dirt and a few bones, whirling them around himself, striking out at the nonexistent darkness.

  Daiya ran toward him. A stone struck her on the side of the head, sending her to the ground. Her head spun; her stomach lurched. She blinked and tried to regain her balance.—Oren—she called, and saw that it was too late.

  He uttered one last scream and was torn apart. His chest burst, his limbs and head flew out, spattering the earth with blood. The bones and dirt spun, then settled.

  Daiya stumbled over the bloodied ground, thinking madly of piecing him together, restoring life to him. She looked down and saw a small hand, partly covered by sand, fingers clutching a rock. She sank to the ground, staring at the hand. A bitter taste filled her mouth; she bent over, retching.