by R. J. Leahy
"To this place,” Jeena said. “How in the world did you build it?"
"Build it? Build Pyros?” Mordachi answered. “Good heavens, we have nothing near sophisticated enough to build this place. No, Jeena, we discovered Pyros, fell into it by accident, in fact. Pyros had been here long before man, buried under the snow for twenty thousand years. From what we have been able to discover, it appears that this was the ancient race's last great city."
Samson glanced around the large room they were in.
"They must have been pretty advanced. What have you learned about them?"
"At first, not much,” Jason admitted. “We had scattered pieces of technology—and Pyros, of course. And we uncovered examples of their writing, but no one could decipher it so all we could do was catalogue and store it. What we did know was that their culture flourished throughout the planet, peaking around five thousand years ago at the advanced industrial stage. At that point, all evidence of writing ceases, and a rapid decline begins. Within a thousand years they are back to stone tools, then nothing.
"We took the information with us from New Jerusalem and continued our work here, hoping for a breakthrough. Finally, around fifty years ago, a genius named Jonas Gardner deciphered the code, and for the first time we could read the lost language. It gave us our first real look at who these aliens were."
"And what did you discover?” Jeena asked. “Who were they?"
Jason looked around awkwardly and sat down, his eyes downcast.
"Tigras,” Mordachi said, his eyes on Samson. “The builders of Pyros were tigras."
"That can't be possible,” Jeena whispered.
"Trust us, Captain. We have investigated this for many years. There can be no doubt. The brute animals you see today are the descendents of Ararat's ruling race."
* * * *
It was as though the floor had dropped out from under Samson's feet. His head was spinning, and he felt faint. He took a step back and fell, trembling. He realized he was panting but was unable to stop it. Everything became blurry.
Jeena was instantly at his side.
"It's okay, take it easy. Samson, look at me. That's it, slow it down. Nice easy breaths."
He saw her fuzzy form sharpen and allowed her to help him sit up. The others stood around the table, worried expressions directed at him.
"It's all right,” Jeena said, “he was just hyperventilating. You okay now?” she asked him.
"Yes ... Yes, I'm all right.” He grabbed her shoulders. “But, Jeena, did you hear? We weren't always animals. We were like you. We were just like you!"
She grinned. “Yes, I heard. It's incredible and wonderful."
"Yes, the discovery was incredible, but deadly,” Mordachi said. “We were so excited by what we had found we made a huge blunder. Remember that our people were only recently departed from New Jerusalem. Many felt that this new information would vindicate us in the eyes of our brethren. Without revealing the location of our new home, a courier was dispatched with our evidence to Seth."
"Oh, Mordachi, no,” Jeena groaned.
"I'm sorry. We had no idea their reaction would be so ruthless."
"That's why they're killing us?” Samson asked. “Because we were here first?"
"That would be enough. If the Union ever got wind that the descendents of the only other intelligent race ever discovered still existed, there is no doubt they would quarantine the entire planet. They might even remove us all from here. Jacob knows this, as have all the k'laqs since Seth.
"But they aren't killing your people just for real estate,” Levi added. “We had proved that another sentient race had existed, as old as mankind and perhaps even older. It was an unraveling of all they believed. Seth became enraged. He executed the courier, labeled us Apostates and ordered a fatwa against us all. They have been searching for us ever since. The tigras ... well, you know what he did to them."
Samson balled his paws into fists but said nothing.
"But what happened to the tigras?” Jeena asked. “How in the world did they go from being able to build this...” She gestured at the room. “...to the animals we see today?"
Mordachi answered. “We've been working on that puzzle for years, and haven't a clue. All we know for sure is that they seem to have progressed along a course fairly parallel to man's. The first signs of real civilization begin around ten thousand years ago and advance steadily for five thousand years. At that point all writing ceases and the decline begins. Whatever happened, it was rapid and universal."
Jason worked the holo projector, and a silvery leaf of metal appeared in the air above the table. It was covered in a delicate script, intricately carved.
"This is an early example of their writing. Beautiful, isn't it?"
"What is it written on?” Jeena asked.
"It's a kind of foil. We've found thousands of these pages. We haven't been able to identify the alloy, but they've survived the eons virtually unscathed. Apparently, they felt it was important to leave some proof they had been here."
Samson leaned close to the phantom image, drawn to the language of his race. “What does it say?” he asked.
"Its part of a story, a legend concerning one of their first kings. We think his name was Rorthra-Orr, or at least that's as close to a pronunciation as we can get. It is one of the very last examples of this type of script we have found."
He touched the projector again; and the leaf disappeared, replaced by a sandy-colored stone. Rough hatch marks were cut into one side.
"This is dated two hundred years later. Note how crude the letters have become. We've found almost nothing after this—nothing of their writing, that is to say. We continue to find evidence of technology for at least another three hundred years before the artifacts begin showing the same devolution."
Jeena frowned. “Wait. Three hundred years after writing stops, and they're still producing technology? You mean to tell me they lost their ability to write three centuries before they lost science, metallurgy? That's impossible. How did they communicate?"
"We honestly don't know, but the pattern has remained the same in every site we've excavated. We see the rapid degeneration of their script and then suddenly it vanishes, but we continue to find advanced artifacts for several hundred years more until that, too, disappears."
"How could they have lost so much?” Samson asked to no one in particular.
"I wish I knew,” Jason replied. “Several theories have been advanced—genetic mutation, war, plague, even alien invasion—but nothing has ever held up to investigation. All we know is that it seems to have affected the entire species more or less at the same time, and that it resulted in loss of their written, and perhaps even spoken, language first. I'm sorry. I wish I had more answers for you."
"But you give hope that an answer may at last be found, Samson,” Mordachi said. “We have always assumed that whatever happened was irreversible, but that is obviously not the case. The fact that you exist means there must be some way to reverse the damage."
Samson gazed at the faces around him. “I wish I could help you, but I don't have any answers. I honestly don't know why I came to be this way. And I know even less about my own species than you do.” His ears slowly flattened against his head.
"I think this would be a good time for us all to take a break,” Mordachi said. “We'll reconvene in thirty minutes. We still have the problem of the Rosh-dan and Babylon to discuss."
* * * *
Jeena led Samson to a quiet corner of the corridor. She tried to get him to sit, but he refused, standing with his paws clenched in fists and staring blankly at the stone wall.
"Are you all right?” she asked
His lower lip began to quiver. Then, suddenly, he was hitting the wall, slamming his fists again and again into the stone.
"Samson, stop it!” she cried. “Stop it, you're hurting yourself!"
Panting, his fangs partially projecting, he stopped and collapsed to his knees onto the cold stone floor. He
held his bloody paws against his chest, trembling.
"What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked, thoroughly confused by his actions. “I thought you'd be excited, proud. Why are you so angry?"
"Proud? I don't have any reason to feel proud,” he replied bitterly. “I'm worse than the Rosh-dan."
"Don't say that."
"It's true. They hate my species out of fear, but I've hated who I was, what I was. Oh, and how I hated, Jeena. I hated them so much, hated that I was born from the ... the womb of an animal."
Jeena knelt and wiped away the tears from his fur. “Don't do this to yourself."
"No, let me finish. When I was young I used to wish that they would all disappear—that they would die—all of them but me, so no one would see me and be reminded of them.” He raised his head to look into her eyes. “So you wouldn't be reminded of them.
"And now I find that they weren't always this way. They were once like me. Something happened, and they're ... they're just lost. Like the one near the Intawa village, they're just lost and dying and ... and I feel so ashamed."
He turned away. “How can you look at me?"
* * * *
Jeena felt the heartache and pain pouring out from Samson as if it were her own. She was engulfed by feelings she barely had words for—compassion, pity ... and perhaps something more. Almost unaware of what she was doing, she took his head in her hands and leaned close, so their lips almost touched, but then abruptly pulled back, her face reddening.
"You, uh ... you're too hard on yourself,” she said, regaining her composure. “And you have done nothing to be ashamed of. We can't control our feelings, Samson, only our actions. You have a lot to work through, I know, but give it time. Right now, I want you to let one of the Pyros doctors see to your paws."
He flexed them. “I'm all right. I think I'd like to go back to the apartment, though. I don't really need to be at this meeting, anyway. I can't help them much against the Rosh-dan."
"You sure you want to be alone?"
He nodded and walked slowly toward the central ramp, his head hung low. Jeena stood and found Kathryn Humboldt staring at her oddly from across the hallway.
"I'm Kathryn,” she re-introduced herself, approaching and extending her hand.
"Yes, I remember,” Jeena replied, taking the hand.
"You and the tigra are ... very close."
"Samson. Yes, we are."
"It's ... so different,” she said, laughing nervously. “I mean, it's so strange seeing an animal act like a person."
"Samson doesn't act,” Jeena replied. “He is what he is. If you'll excuse me."
She brushed past the woman and met Mordachi in the corridor.
"I saw Samson leaving. Is he all right?"
"He's had quite a shock. It was a lot for him to digest. He just needs some time.” She gazed down the corridor. “What a piece of work this mountain is. You know, I wondered about the electric lights."
"That was as far as their technology had advanced. They tapped the geothermal energy from the fissures below the mountain to drive huge generators located in the lowest level. They had long ago turned to dust, of course, but we were able to replace them. We've tried our best to reconstruct the city as it was then. It was our way of honoring those who built it."
She shook her head. “I'm still having a hard time imagining the entire species as sentient. What are their numbers now? Any idea how many are left?"
"Yes, we've been keeping track. The FYS estimated their total population at three million two hundred years ago. Our latest count put them at just over thirty thousand, with most of those north of here. The Rosh-dan have been very busy."
"And they're going to get busier. Jacob knows the Union will be back soon and he wants everyone out of the way—you, me, Babylon, the tigras. I'm convinced he wants to claim manifest destiny."
"I'm sure you're right. They've had scouts searching for us since we fled, but luckily only the Intawa know where we are and they know not to divulge our location. Jacob wants all the evidence we've accumulated destroyed."
"Can you defend yourself?"
"Against the numbers you've seen? No. We have mostly cavalry—less than ten thousand—but we do have more sophisticated weapons."
"Yes, I noticed. I don't suppose you want to tell me who delivers carbines to a zed-tech planet?"
Mordachi chuckled. “I'm sure you can guess."
"Smugglers."
"Yes. They had always been in the area, using the confusion of the war to ply their goods, but the Afridi and Babylon had no interest. I'm afraid we were not so noble. We've been able to buy something like fifteen thousand rifles, but mostly we've used them to acquire building materials and medical technology."
"And that's how you were able to rebuild Pyros."
"Correct."
Paul began redirecting everyone back into the conference room. “I think we should begin. Are you ready, Captain?"
"Yes, let's get it over with."
Mordachi began the second half of their meeting by having Jeena relate all she had seen and heard while in New Jerusalem, including her use of the MAAD on the gates and the armory.
"The armory was good work,” David said. “That will slow down their timetable and give us a chance to muster our forces."
"Does anyone see any other option except to do as Touloc asked, to send our people to Uruk to aid the Babylonians?” Mordachi asked.
There was no comment.
"What are the Babylonians like?” Jeena asked.
"Primitive, like the Afridi,” Mordachi answered. “But that is all they have in common. Uruk is their principle city, a beautiful, sprawling place headed by an elected regent. Unless things have changed recently, she must still be the same woman I remember, though she must be older than me by now.
"Theirs is an extremely open society, one that has to be seen to be appreciated. I visited there a few times in my younger days when we first established relations with them. Marvelous place. Levi, I seem to recall that you accompanied me there once or twice,” Mordachi said, his eyes twinkling.
"I'm sure I can't recall,” sniffed the old scholar.
"Really? Pity. I can recall it quite well.” He saw Kathryn frowning and coughed. “But, we can save the reminiscing for another day."
"Any idea as to their military strength?” Jeena asked.
"The Babylonian confederacy is large,” David replied, “but not so large as the Afridi. They are made up of many independent city-states, the largest of which is Uruk. All told, I would put their combined military strength at maybe one hundred thousand."
"That's quite a disparity in numbers, even with Pyros's more modern weaponry,” Jeena said.
"Are we sure there is no other way?” Kathryn asked. “Shouldn't we at least try diplomacy with the Afridi?"
"Kathryn,” said Mordachi patiently, “are you forgetting the fatwa against us? That encompasses not only those who left, but their descendents as well."
"That silly decree was issued almost a century ago. Who knows if they're even looking for us anymore? We've been hiding like thieves all these years and we don't even know if it's necessary. We could at least make the offer."
"What offer?” asked David.
"To stay out of their affairs with the Babylonians, of course."
"Stay out?” protested Levi, aghast. “You can't be serious."
"I am only thinking about what is best for Pyros,” she replied. “Going to war with New Jerusalem is suicide, that much is obvious. What are we fighting for, anyway—to save a colony of sexual degenerates and a few wild animals? Yes, yes, I know, we owe Pyros to the ancient tigras, but for heaven's sake that was ten millennia ago. What's left of them is certainly not worth dying for."
Jeena, who was sitting next to Mordachi, started to rise but felt his hand on her shoulder. He stood, his face red and stern.
"I can't believe I have heard you right. You're willing to turn your back on our friends and the tigras? After w
hat you have heard today? Not worth dying for? You couldn't be more wrong. They are both worth dying for, the tigras no less than the Babylonians.
"My God, Kathryn, these poor creatures are innocent. Maybe we have used the fact that they were ‘just animals’ as an excuse to overlook their slaughter in the past, but how can we do so now, after hearing Samson?"
"Mordachi is right,” David agreed, standing with him. “Even if we weren't threatened, we couldn't just sit by and let the Rosh-dan destroy Uruk. But make no mistake—we are threatened. If Jacob destroys the Babylonians, he will have broken his Union charter. That opens the entire Afridi colony up to deportation. His only recourse then is to wipe them out so utterly he can declare manifest destiny—claiming that they freely elected to be absorbed by the Afridi.
"To do that he has to eliminate any witnesses. With the Babylonians out of the way, how long do you think it will take him to discover Pyros? No, either we join up with the Babylonians and fight him there, or we sit in our little mountain and wait for him to destroy us as well."
"A decision like this can't be made by the military—you don't have the authority. It is a matter for Parliament,” Kathryn sniffed.
"Agreed,” Mordachi replied. “That is why I have ordered an emergency meeting of the full Parliament tonight. I have no doubt they will follow my recommendations.” He turned to Jeena. “Captain Garza, I want to thank you on behalf of Pyros for all you have done. Please except our hospitality and enjoy our city for as long as you like. Word of Samson should be spreading, though, and you may find privacy hard to come by."
"Thank you, Mordachi, and the rest of you for your kindness. I wish I could be more help, but..."
Mordachi shook his head. “No, my dear. You have done much for us already. This is not your war. If we should fail, then I would like someone left to tell the tale—someone the Union would believe. I have a feeling they would believe you."