Seekers

by Dayton Ward

  “I may well accept your offer, Captain, but in due course. I know you have more pressing matters to attend to.” He glanced about the bridge of his wounded ship. “We shall be here.” As the communication faded, Kang shook his head and released an irritated sigh.

  Where else are we to go?

  * * *

  Fueled by determination and a clarity he had not known before giving himself over to the Change, Kerlo crossed the chamber toward Seta. There was no denying the bravery exhibited by the young priestess, who had found herself unceremoniously thrown into her position as leader of the Tomol following the death of her mentor, Ysan, at Nimur’s hands.

  “I see it in your eyes,” Seta said, holding herself straight and meeting his gaze. “You will kill me just as Nimur murdered Ysan.”

  The statement, delivered in such a blunt manner, gave Kerlo pause. It was unfortunate that his mate had deemed it necessary to kill the high priestess, and he remained troubled that Nimur seemed to have taken satisfaction from her actions, but even that regret was colored by the growing realization that not all of his fellow Tomol would understand or accept the truth of their existence, and that they were destined for things far greater than what the Shepherds would have them believe. The time had come to cast off the shackles holding them prisoner on this world, and Kerlo suspected that with sufficient opportunity to acclimate to their new reality, most of his people would make the transition without great difficulty. Of course, there would be those, like Seta, who would resist, and the longer this battle continued, the less inclined Kerlo was to entertain such defiance.

  And why must it be this way? Why can we not simply show them the truth behind the Change and allow them to accept it on their own terms? Is this confrontation truly necessary?

  Those and so many more questions had plagued him almost from the moment he had surrendered to the Change, but he was finding the effort to seek the answers growing more difficult as time passed. They were being replaced by a persistent need to carry on, as though survival depended on prompt, decisive action. Kerlo could not summon a reason for why he was gripped by such feelings, only that he must follow them.

  These thoughts dissolved in an eruption of pain as flames from the sky people’s fire lances once more reached out for him. Though his body recoiled at the assault, Kerlo realized the sensations were duller than before. The flames held less power over him now, and with effort he remained standing in the face of the renewed attack. Behind him, the two sky people, Stano and her male companion, continued to fire their lances, then one of the weapons stopped firing.

  “Damn it,” said the male. “Power pack’s drained.”

  Kerlo did not understand the words, but he comprehended that the man’s lance no longer carried a flame. They obviously did not channel the energy provided to the village Wardens by the Shepherds, which meant they soon would be helpless against his people.

  In time, he reminded himself.

  “Seta!” shouted the female sky person, Stano. “Get away from him!”

  “There is nowhere for her to run,” Kerlo said, his attention fixed on the young priestess, who looked to the sky people as if hoping for them to come to her aid. Though the assault on his thoughts continued and he knew he could not influence her or the sky people with his mind, he still possessed the vision provided by the Change to see the aura surrounding Seta, and it was this that intrigued him. Though he knew her to be of an age where the fires would not burn within her for some time, there still was something in her that he did not recognize, a new quality to her deepest self that he had not seen in the other Tomol, even those approaching the time of their own Change. He could not identify this new ember radiating from within Seta, but on some level Kerlo grasped what it represented.

  “Seta!” Stano warned again, but this time the girl’s attention did not waver from Kerlo. She stood still, as though prepared to embrace whatever fate might bring her. Kerlo ignored the sky people, reaching out with one hand to caress Seta’s face. The spark was there! It was faint, but present nonetheless. Pushing through whatever veils the Shepherds’ wordstone was using to cloud his thoughts, Kerlo reached across the void to touch the girl’s mind, taking hold of the feeble fire he sensed there and coaxing it forward. It took only a moment before he felt his efforts being rewarded and Seta’s aura began to shift. The Change blossomed, swelling within her, and unlike others he had transformed, the girl did not seem overcome by fear or uncertainty. Like the leader she was destined to be, Seta was accepting this transition with courage and grace, and Kerlo smiled with an almost paternal pride.

  “Soon you will understand.”

  “I already understand,” Seta replied. “It is you who requires enlightenment.”

  Moving with a speed he had not anticipated, the girl reached forward with something in her hand and pressed it against his arm. Kerlo heard an odd hiss and immediately realized that she had used some device to introduce something into his body. It was not a weapon, but the shock of the abrupt action still caught him by surprise. He stepped backward, feeling no pain but rather sensing something foreign now working within him. Looking down at his hands, he already could detect minute changes in his aura, and the shift was growing both in intensity and velocity.

  “What have you done?”

  Seta regarded him with an expression of confidence, though her features betrayed her concern. “I am saving my people, Kerlo, and you are going to help me.”

  * * *

  Helpless to do anything except watch the confrontation between Seta and Kerlo, Stano grabbed Zane’s arm and pulled him with her into the tunnel, holding in her free hand her all but useless phaser rifle. Eyeing the weapon’s charge, she guessed she had one or perhaps two shots at its maximum intensity setting before the power pack was exhausted. Not that it mattered, as it had proved to be increasingly ineffective against Kerlo, who appeared to be growing stronger with every fleeting ­moment.

  “What the hell did she just do?” Zane asked, still holding his drained phaser rifle.

  Stano said, “Some kind of injection from a hypospray, one of ours. It must be the treatment Doctor Leone came up with.” Thanks to an update from Captain Khatami, she knew that the Endeavour’s chief medical officer had arrived at what he thought might address the anomalies introduced millennia ago by the Shedai into the Tomol’s genetic makeup, and that Leone already had administered his potential solution to Seta and several of her people who were approaching that period of their development where the Change could take place. As far as she knew, the treatment had not been given to any Tomol who already had undergone the Change, until now.

  “Look.” Zane pointed to Seta. “He’s done it to her. She’s changing, too.”

  Pulling again at his arm, Stano retreated farther into the tunnel, watching as Kerlo reacted to whatever Seta had injected into him. He staggered away from her, but as he regained his balance his expression darkened, and Stano was certain the glow in his eyes intensified.

  “Your potions or poisons will not stop me,” he said, growling the words at her as he closed the distance separating them.

  Seta stepped away and to her left to avoid being trapped with a wall to her back. “I am not trying to stop you, Kerlo. I want to help you, so that we both can work to help all of our people.”

  The words seemed to fuel Kerlo’s growing anger, and he lunged forward, raising one arm to strike. Seta, smaller than her opponent, deftly sidestepped the attack, and as he dashed past she reached out and hit him in the back of his head. Not expecting her to defend herself, Kerlo staggered forward and fell into the rock wall, the force of his punch enough to gouge out a section of stone and send it crashing to the uneven floor.

  “This is getting ready to get totally out of hand,” Zane said.

  Stano nodded, mesmerized as the two Changed faced off, realizing that this was the first time she had witnessed such a confrontation between
two Tomol so transformed. “Between them, they could probably bring half this mountain down around our ears.”

  “Then it sounds like a good time to find the way out.”

  Startled by the new voice, Stano and Zane whirled about, phaser rifles up and ready, to see Klisiewicz and Leone, helping to support an obviously wounded Tormog.

  Leone, his face flushed with exertion, said, “That means let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “Are you all right?” Stano asked, trying to divide her attention between the new arrivals and the two Changed. Seta, still maneuvering much faster than Kerlo, was evading his attacks, which seemed to deepen Kerlo’s fury.

  “What the hell . . . ?” Klisiewicz asked, watching the proceedings. “Seta?”

  “Kerlo changed her,” Stano said.

  The young priestess feinted to her right before ducking the other way and coming in low, up and under Kerlo’s right arm. She lashed out with what Stano recognized as some form of practiced self-defense technique, striking Kerlo in his right armpit. The blow must have hit something sensitive, because Kerlo dropped his arm and howled in pained surprise, reaching for the wounded area with his other hand and moving away from the small but feisty Seta.

  “We need to help her,” Zane said.

  Stano shook her head. “There’s nothing we can do.”

  “What about this?” Klisiewicz asked, and the science officer held up a weapon she did not recognize; it appeared to be related to the lances wielded by the Wardens of the Tomol village. Taking it from Klisiewicz, she tested its heft before deciding to aim it at Kerlo.

  Then her communicator beeped. Stano was unable even to utter a greeting before Captain Clark Terrell’s voice bellowed, “Sagittarius to Stano! You need to get out of there right now!”

  Frowning as she watched Kerlo and Seta dancing around each other, Stano said, “Captain? What is it?”

  “Another treat from the Preservers,” Terrell barked. “Some kind of fail-safe contingency, maybe. It’s the same fossilization effect the drones deployed, but this looks designed to blanket an area. We’ve isolated its origin at several points in a ten-kilometer radius around the mountain, and it’s spreading in all directions and picking up speed, with no signs of stopping. Nothing in its path is being spared. For all we know, it’s going to cover the whole damned island. Based on our readings, you’ve got about six minutes to get to the surface or you’ll be cut off when it washes over that mountain. Our transporter’s down, but the Endeavour’s waiting for you to get clear of the underground interference. Get moving, Commander! Now!”

  “Six minutes?” Leone said, his words wrapped in disbelief. “We’ll never make it.”

  “Well, I’m damn sure not staying here,” Stano said, gesturing up the tunnel. “Move out.” Still holding the lance Klisiewicz had given her as her people began hurriedly shuffling their way toward the surface, she turned for one last look at Kerlo and Seta, who now saw only each other as they continued their fight. They were oblivious of the lesser creatures watching them battle, just as they knew nothing about whatever was coming in the next six minutes.

  Less, Stano reminded herself before turning to run.

  31

  Kerlo’s rage was mounting with every passing heartbeat. How dare this impudent whelp defy him? How could she not understand the gift he had given her, and what it meant not only for her but also for the continued existence of all their people?

  At long last, he swung at her and his fist impacted against the side of her head. Seta tumbled to one side, trying and failing to maintain her footing on the uneven ground. Kerlo moved closer, raising both hands with the intention of delivering a blow to the top of the girl’s head, but he realized too late that her stumbling and struggling to regain her footing was a ruse. As he stepped in and began bringing his arms down, she rose to meet him, clasping her hands together and slamming them into the underside of his chin. The force of the attack was uncanny, doubtless owing to her own increasing strength as a result of her Change. Light exploded in Kerlo’s vision and a wave of dizziness washed over him as he crashed to the ground. His stomach heaved and for an instant he thought he might retch, but then hands closed around his ankles.

  To his utter astonishment, he felt himself lifted from the stone floor and flung away, discarded like refuse. There was no time to prepare and he hit the wall. Rock cracked and gave way in the face of the assault, and as he slid to the floor, debris rained down upon him.

  “Impressive,” Kerlo said, noting his uneasiness as he pushed himself to his feet. To her credit, or perhaps naïveté, Seta did not press her own attack but instead allowed him an opportunity to collect himself.

  “Do you not understand?” Seta asked, exertion evident in her words. “We cannot keep fighting like this. The Shepherds did not intend this for us.”

  Kerlo released a derisive grunt. “The Shepherds. We are their playthings. Worse, we are like pets in a cage. They brought us to this world to amuse them, to live in a vacuum and fated to die with no hope of reaching our true potential. That is the crime the Shepherds perpetrated against all our people.”

  “They also will not allow this to continue,” Seta said. “You have seen what the wordstone has done. Do you wish to become one with the Endless?”

  “The Shepherds and their infernal devices have cowed us for too long,” Kerlo said. Without warning, he launched himself toward Seta, but the girl had anticipated his attack and managed to sidestep him. He thrust out one arm and caught her about the ankles, tripping her and dropping her to the floor. Rolling through his fall, Kerlo was able to regain his feet, but as he turned to face her, Seta was already charging him, her small hands lifting a large piece of rock, which she rammed into his face. Kerlo felt his jaw and nose cracking and several of his teeth loosening, and he tasted the thick, oily tang of his own blood. Seta did not rest, following with a second strike and pummeling the side of his head with the stone. In blind rage he swiped at her with his hand, but she was moving again, dancing away out of his reach.

  She’s beating you, his pain-racked mind taunted him. A child is beating you! For a brief moment, he pondered the irony in his internal rebuke, as he was but a small handful of sun-turns older than Seta, but then the anger reasserted itself, and his thoughts began to clear. What was this?

  “I can sense it within you,” Seta said, again moving to a safe distance rather than pressing her attack or lashing out in defense. “Your thoughts are becoming yours once more. Do you not feel it?”

  This is wrong.

  The musing came unbidden, erupting from the depths of his troubled mind and fixing itself at the forefront of his consciousness. “This is your doing?”

  “Yes,” Seta said, “with the help of the sky people. Without their assistance, we are doomed, Kerlo. The Shepherds will permit nothing else.”

  Something new was intruding on his thoughts. There was no intelligence or emotion; he saw only the manifestation of a great force, unyielding and unrelenting, growing more powerful as it drew closer. He tried to see into it and came away with nothing but darkness, deep, impenetrable blackness from which there was no escape.

  “The Endless,” he said, but as he spoke the words he realized he was alone. Where had Seta gone? He reached out with his thoughts and found her, moving deeper into the mountain. She was fleeing toward the great cavern, to the wordstone.

  “The Shepherds will not protect you.” Even as he spoke the words, Kerlo perceived something new, something heretofore unknown even with the heightened awareness granted to him by the Change. All of this, everything for which he now fought, and for which his mate Nimur had fought, and for which they both had come to believe was necessary in order to secure freedom for the Tomol from their faceless oppressors, was wrong.

  Seta’s reply echoed in his mind: The Shepherds will not protect any of us now.

  “What have we done?” Why had t
his clearness of mind been denied to him all this time? Why had his mate not benefited from such insight? Had the sky people been right all along and sincerely worked to help his people? If so, what then was the true destiny of the Tomol? Was there a life to be lived while having accepted the Change, but without the violence that had so characterized the supposed freedom and autonomy Nimur believed to be their birthright?

  You were wrong, Nimur. We all were.

  Was it too late to correct the grievous mistakes they had committed?

  Plunging headlong down the tunnel, he pushed himself as fast as his legs would carry him, tuning his thoughts to Seta’s and letting them lead him to her. She was in the great cavern now, close to the wordstone. What could she hope to do before he caught her?

  The approaching darkness and cacophony rang in his ears, and Kerlo realized it was more than simply a manifestation of a force clouding his thoughts. All around him the very stone of the mountain itself trembled, and there was a new energy filling the air. It played across his exposed skin and he sensed heat and cold waging war for supremacy over his body. Instinct made him look back the way he had come, and Kerlo found himself staring into . . .

  . . . endlessness.

  * * *

  “Come on! We have to keep moving!”

  The trail was narrow and steep, cutting a swath across the face of the mountain, but not so extreme that it could not be navigated. Stano, still wielding the lance weapon Klisiewicz had bestowed upon her, led the way up the path, keeping her eyes on the loose, uneven ground while trying to remain alert for threats.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, halting her advance and turning to check on her charges. Ensign Zane was assisting Lieutenant Klisiewicz in carrying the wounded Tormog, scrambling for every foothold as they pushed themselves up the trail. The Klingon was hobbling on one foot, his wounded leg having been set in a makeshift splint fashioned by Zane from two inert torches the security officer and medic had found at the entrance to the caves. Doctor Leone was bringing up the rear, ready to help Klisiewicz or Zane if either man stumbled, all while keeping an eye out for threats trying to chase them down.