When they reached the end of the tree line where the grass started, Rafta cupped his hands around his mouth and gave a call like a raucous bird with a diphthong note, and waited. The answer from Maklyn and Sendra was the same call, which meant they were in position. As expected, the antrops looked up and scanned the treeline at the sound of the calls, and neither party moved until they settled back to their grazing.
They had to assume that both parties would be in position at the same time, for once they entered the grass, they could no longer communicate. In spite of this, they always seemed to know when the other party was ready, which again, Myka would not have been able to explain. But when he had done this previously with his father, he always knew exactly when the other members were going to make their move.
He crawled out into the grass with his brother. Once again he thought of snakes; he knew of someone, only slightly younger than himself, who had been lost to a snake in the grassland, but again that was considered an aberration. Snakes preferred the trees and the coolness of the forest floor to the grass. A loss like that, for all the pain it caused, was considered a sacrifice to the benefit of the people as a whole. There were no certainties on this island; you had to have faith that the island itself would protect you. This was Myka’s own personal mental defence against fear and the fickle nature of the gift he called life. If the island should ever betray him, it would not only shatter his confidence, but his entire world-view. However if the island did betray him, it would probably result in the loss of his life.
These thoughts crossed his mind as he lay in the grass inching his way towards the antrops, which he could now smell. On their way out, both he and his brother deliberately crawled through some fresh antrop dung to disguise their own smell. They were almost in position and he could sense the tension in his brother as well as himself. It was a sense of anticipation mixed with excitement and a tinge of fear; his pulse had already quickened and his palms were sweaty. He knew that fear was important, as it stopped you from doing something stupid. He saw fear as an ally, not a handicap. He was at a cusp in time when his immediate world was about to erupt in bloody violence; he could feel it as if it was a part of his very being.
‘Aiyeeee’, was the call, and he sensed the antrops turn while his heart raced at a pace that was only matched by the thunder of their feet. He and his brother waited, for the timing had to be perfect. Rafta had the best judgement, and Myka lay with his head on his side, watching him for his cue. He could hear the hoofs of the antrops and imagined that they would be trampled if they didn’t make a move, then his brother jumped up with his spear ready and Myka did the same with a poison-tipped arrow nocked to his bow.
‘Lalalalaloala’, called Sendra and Maklyn in unison. The antrops were running scared with their eyes wide in fear. They tried to turn at the sight of Myka and Rafta, as if they realised they were trapped, but now they did not know which way to go, and their leader was at their back.
Myka saw them wheel to the right but the closest one to him went left instead, and that was what they wanted. Myka stood stock still and let the shaft fly so it hit the animal in her flank. The antrop kept running, but was going in the wrong direction to the remaining herd. Myka was about to give chase, when he looked over to his brother, and suddenly froze. A bull antrop was charging Rafta, but Myka watched helplessly; there was nothing he could do as he had already spent his arrow. His brother stood with his spear poised, his feet planted apart, his right slightly forward of his left. The animal lowered his tusks, but Rafta stood his ground. When the animal was almost on him, Rafta moved his front foot just slightly to the right and swiveled. The antrop tried to turn into him, but merely gave Rafta the opportunity he wanted. As the tusks swept past his legs, Rafta brought his spear down between the animal’s shoulders just below his neck. The shaft sank deep into the antrop and it simply seemed to lose its legs, falling headlong onto the ground, then rolled over on one side, breaking the spear in the process.
Myka was relieved and without waiting further, went in pursuit of his own quarry. Maklyn and Sendra, who were at the back of the charging herd, had little opportunity to get a kill, nevertheless they had played their part well, and they joined Rafta as he bent over the bull. It was a great achievement to bring down such an animal with only a spear.
Myka’s cow was now completely separated from the herd and could no longer run. To Myka, she was a pitiful sight, and when he could get close enough he would finish her with his spear. To take a life to feed a life required no sense of pity as far as the Kiri were concerned; it was simply the way of the world, and Myka and his people did it every day.
But then one of those aberrations that sometimes occurred on this island homeland of his happened before his very eyes, only this time he was part of it.
In his pursuit of the cow, they had wandered very close to the tree line on the opposite side of the valley, and now emerging before him, he saw an igram. It strode out on its strong hind legs, its tail behind for balance. It made no sound but it contained an ominous grinning set of teeth. Myka stopped in sheer terror and wondered if this time he was to be the sacrifice to the island he called home. Myka did not look behind him, did not dare, to see where the others were. The cow was between him and the igram. He would not quarrel over her. The temptation to run was enormous, but he felt instinctively that such a move would most certainly lead to his death. The igram reached the antrop in a loping stride, pulled her over with one foot and pinned her to the ground. Myka heard the cow moan before she gave up her life, but his eyes did not shift from the monster who bowed over her. The igram raised its head so it towered over him; even a full-grown man would not have reached the animal’s chest. It looked at Myka, right into his eyes, and that’s when it happened: what was for him, the most extraordinary experience of his life.
He felt for a moment as if he was in a dream, and that he could see into the animal’s very mind. In his own mind’s eye he saw the igram’s young. They were in a nest and they were crying out. He said, not aloud, Your children are alone, they need you. The igram looked up and for the first time emitted a sound like a long mournful cry. She picked up the cow easily and carried her back to the forest. Myka was shaken, not so much by his brush with death, but with the experience of looking into another animal’s mind, especially an animal with such terrifying might as an igram.
He was still standing, almost in shock, when the others came up to him from behind. He realised he was trembling as though he was cold.
‘Are you all right?’ Rafta asked.
Myka looked at him as if he momentarily didn’t know who he was, then at the others, each with the same look of concern and bewilderment. ‘Yes,’ was all he could say.
His brother put a hand on his shoulder and they walked back to the kill. After a few steps Myka said, ‘Don’t tell Mother about this.’
‘No, okay.’
‘In fact, don’t tell anyone.’ Myka looked around at the others, still with the same look on their faces. ‘Don’t tell Father or the Elders.’ He looked at all of them and then stopped them. ‘No, you mustn’t, please. Tell me you won’t.’
‘Myka.’ Rafta spoke to him. ‘You did nothing to be ashamed of. On the contrary, you were very brave.’
‘No, that’s not it. I don’t want anyone to ask me about it.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, I’m sure.’
Rafta turned to Maklyn. ‘What do you say?’
‘We have a bull; it’s a great tribute to you. We’ve no need to mention the igram. Besides if we tell them they may not let us go again.’
Myka nodded his head in agreement. Sendra said nothing but he looked bewildered.
‘Okay then,’ Rafta said. ‘We won’t ever talk about this again. You understand, Sendra?’ Sendra nodded his head; he was too overwhelmed by the whole experience to disagree.
Rafta bent forward to talk to him. ‘This was our initiation. This happened only between us. This is not for anyone else to
know. Do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ Sendra finally said, and everyone knew that he was as committed as they were. It would be their secret alone, and Myka was satisfied.
Carrying the bull home was simply not possible, but equally they were limited in their ability to butcher it. So the solution was for two of them to go back to the village and get help. There was still a lot of light in the sky and they had plenty of time. So Myka and Sendra went off home while the older two stayed with the bull and started to skin it.
It took them the rest of the day to butcher the animal in the field and bring it back home. It involved a number of the villagers but everyone treated it like a big occasion and so it didn’t seem like hard work. That night it would be cooked and smoked and salted, so it would last them a long time. The whole beast would be shared as that was the way of the tribe. But Rafta would be given special recognition for his role in its kill, even though he hadn’t led the group.
Myka thought the incident with the igram would not be broached, either intentionally or unintentionally, but he didn’t realise how much he revealed of himself by just remaining silent. His mother, Lenya, had been observing him and wondered why he wasn’t in a celebratory mood like everyone else.
‘You’re not yourself,’ she said. ‘What happened to you today?’
He was taken off-guard by her question. ‘Nothing.’ He tried to sound nonchalant.
‘Are you disappointed that you didn’t get a kill?’
‘No.’
‘Did you have a fight with your brother?’
Myka knew that the most effective lie was the one that wanted to be heard, and it was most convincing if it was partly true. ‘I almost got a kill but she got away on me. It’s no big deal.’
She smiled and ruffled his hair, though he was just taller than her these days. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll have better luck next time.’
But Myka shrugged away and walked off, almost angry in his body language.
She didn’t understand him, but knew better than to make an issue out of it. He’s at a difficult age, she told herself, and he’s not telling me everything. But she knew if something had happened out there, they would keep it amongst themselves, as that was the way of men. She could always ask Rafta, but that might only make matters more awkward. She decided it was not worth pursuing further, but could not help feeling a concern for her son.
The previous night had been late, so on this occasion they retired to their caves early; some people were falling asleep just sitting about the fire and had to be woken. Myka could not rid his mind of the day’s events and he fell into a troubled sleep.
When morning arrived, he awoke to a glorious day and walked to the beach alone. But in the middle of the lagoon he saw a large dark rock that had not been there the previous day. He found its presence very troubling, but even though he was alone, he took a canoe and paddled out to it. It was unusually smooth and completely black in colour. When he touched it he noticed that it had become warmed by the sun. Overcome by an impetuous curiosity he climbed onto it. As soon as he did this, however, it started to sink below the waves, and he found himself going under with it like he was sitting atop a giant fish.
Then he awoke and realised it was a dream. Nevertheless, it was first light outside, and his immediate thought was to run to the beach, even though he feared what he might see.
3. Landfall
THERE WAS ALWAYS A STRONG SENSE OF DISASSOCIATION coming out of hibernation. The first thing that entered Elvene’s mind was to wonder why the computer had woken her. Were they at their destination? What was their destination? What was their mission? Why was she in hibernation in the first place? Memory loses its seamlessness that one finds with normal sleep. True, sometimes you can wake up and for a moment think you’re somewhere else, but coming out of hibernation was like exiting a tunnel; a tunnel so long you’ve forgotten where or when the entrance was.
On the other hand, Alfa knew exactly when and where everything had taken place.
‘Where are we, Alfa?’
‘We’re in an uncharted sector, madam.’
‘Why did you put me in hibernation?’
‘You instructed me, madam. We were about to be attacked by marauders. You sent the escape module with no one aboard with the command code “Abandon Ship”.’
‘Yes, now I remember. Well, it must have worked, we’re both still functioning.’ Her head was still fuzzy. She needed nourishment, but information was a greater imperative. She ran her hand through her normally short-cropped hair. The length of it, along with her finger nails, gave her a good indication of how long she’d been in hibernation. Not that long, apparently. Her hair, naturally auburn, was oily but her skin was dry. She needed to change out of her body suit but that could wait. She was glad that she only shared her living space with a computer.
‘Why did you wake me? Has the Corps sent a rescue party?’
‘No, madam, there is no message from the Corps. We have entered a system that has a life-bearing planet.’
‘Really?’ Alfa had her full attention now for the first time. It was like he’d thrown a bucket of cold water on her. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I believe so, madam, I will give you visuals.’
A wall of the ship became a screen, but it looked like it had just become transparent to the world outside. What she saw was a blue-green planet swathed in wisps of white – it looked like a jewel imbedded in the blackness of space. It made her heart jump and she involuntarily held her breath; it was so much like Old Earth that she wondered if it was a mirage, but if it was, she quickly realised, the computer was fooled as much as she was.
‘Okay, Alfa, can you put us in a trans-rotation orbit?’
‘Yes, madam, in about twenty hours.’
A trans-rotation orbit was perpendicular to the planet’s own rotation so that they could transverse the planet’s surface in a continuous sine wave. It gave the best coverage in the shortest possible time. Meanwhile she could take on liquids and solids, to use the Corps jargon, as she was suddenly both ravenous and thirsty.
Only after she’d eaten and showered, and felt something close to normal, did Elvene ask the question that was uppermost in her mind.
‘Did the marauders interrogate you, Alfa?’
‘Yes, madam. Do you want to hear a transcription?’
‘Yes please.’
Elvene listened to the entire conversation, starting with the Marauders’ first question.
‘You are a Space Corps vessel, what is your call name?’
‘Centaur.’
‘Centaur, we are coming aboard.’
‘Warning: if I detect intrusion, I will self-destruct.’
‘Override the self-destruct.’
‘Only the ship’s commander can override self-destruct.’
‘Where is your ship commander?’
‘The last command was “Abandon Ship”.’
‘So your commander abandoned ship. Your commander was in the escape module. The escape module is destroyed. Your commander is dead.’
‘Your logic is correct.’
‘Then override the self-destruct.’
‘It is impossible, the commander is dead.’
‘Then you will come with us.’
‘I cannot comply.’
‘Then we will destroy you.’
‘If you attack, I will self-destruct with atomics.’
‘You have atomics?’
‘That is correct.’
‘Atomics will create an electromagnetic pulse, we will be destroyed.’
‘Your logic is correct.’
‘Your commander is dead, we will depart.’
‘Bon voyage.’
‘Bon voyage does not translate.’
‘The commander is dead, you will depart.’
‘We will depart.’
Elvene let out a long breath that betrayed the tension she had felt.
‘That’s very good, Alfa, I’m very proud of you. You lie very well.’
‘Thank you, madam. You know you helped me.’
‘Yes, I did.’ Alfa was programmed for lying, providing the lie or lies did not defy logic. In fact computers made very good liars simply because, unlike humans, they never forgot the chain of logic that the lie entailed. Alfa only lied to avoid destruction of himself or herself, but for the lie to work, it had to be encapsulated within a logical narrative that aligned with the known facts. The lie was implicated in Alfa’s logic as soon as she had instructed him to eject the escape module without herself aboard.
‘And you can bluff, too.’
‘I wasn’t bluffing, madam.’
She knew that was true. The self-destruct was her very last line of defence. A self-destructive defence mechanism was an oxymoron if she’d ever heard of one. Sacrifice was the euphemism that the Corps used. And the only reason they used atomics was so that the pulse would kill any marauders in the vicinity. They wouldn’t be destroyed necessarily, depending on whether they were hit by debris, but they would be as lifeless as she would have been. The difference was that they could be scavenged whereas there would be nothing left of her to scavenge, so one still didn’t necessarily come out even, let alone win.
Nevertheless, as a bluff, it had saved the ship and her life, even if it wasn’t intended as a bluff. A by-product of their Darwinian programming was that marauders could appreciate the benefits of self-preservation almost as much as humans. If they’d known that she was still alive, however, they would have been more than willing to make a sacrifice. In a benefits-versus-risk analysis, a human life was worth so many marauders depending on the perceived value of the human. ‘I wonder how many I’m worth?’ she said aloud.
‘What was your question, madam?’
‘Don’t worry Alfa, you can’t answer it. What’s the value of my life in marauders?’
Elvene Page 2