Worlds Away (The Interstellar Age Book 3)

by Daniels, Valmore

  They didn’t have that kind of time. It was hard to tell how long it had been since Three Crescents had fled the lab, and she expected him and Long Fingers to show up any moment and take control of the situation. When the Kulsat had quantized her to bring her aboard their ship, Justine had not been conscious in that state, much the same as none of the other passengers on the Ultio—Alex included—had been aware during the journey.

  Justine didn’t know nearly enough about the ‘Gift’ of light, although she’d spent over four years in that state. Given the chance, she was determined to learn as much as possible.

  She held the sphere close to her chest, and sat on the floor of the tank, letting the Kinemetic radiation flow into her. She would hold on as long as she could.

  Soon, another alien entered the lab and signed to Red Spot, who conveyed the information to Justine. “We have loaded the shuttle with the Gift. Squiggles Over A Small Circle spotted Long Fingers on the bridge, but did not interact with the ship leader. Perhaps Three Crescents has not reported us to him yet.”

  That was good news, Justine thought to herself. That would give them more time. It also hinted that Three Crescents may have exceeded his authority, if he was afraid of letting the ship leader know what was happening.

  Red Spot typed. “The rest of the crew are on the shuttle waiting for instructions.”

  Justine said, “I need a little more time with the Grace before I am charged enough to quantize myself. You three get to the shuttle and get off the ship—”

  The mechanized voice interrupted her. “The others are helping only to get you away from Three Crescents. If we leave you here, they will see no reason to leave the ship.”

  “I promise,” Justine said, “I will get to the shuttle as soon as I am capable.” She didn’t know if Red Spot could interpret the sincerity in her words, so she looked through the glass at the cephalopod so that the alien could see it in her eyes.

  “You have not employed deception to me in the past. I do not believe you will employ deception in the future. We will be waiting for you on the shuttle. Utilize haste, Justine.”

  With that, Red Spot and the two others flicked their tentacles and darted out of the lab.

  It had only been a few minutes with the Kinemet, but Justine was already feeling the effects of its influence. She wished she knew how the Kulsat Risen were able to quantize others. After decades of experiments, the only method NASA and Quantum Resources’ scientists had discovered for quantizing a ship was to use a quantum drive.

  Justine had read many of the theoretical papers about the process, and while she sat there waiting to be fully charged, she reviewed all the texts stored in her memory. The crash-course took her several minutes to complete, but by the end, there was nothing in the experiments to suggest the possibility of external quantization. Of course, no one had imagined that it was possible to quantize anything without a quantum drive—which, basically, was a high-powered hydrogen bombardment device.

  Something tickled the back of her mind.

  What would happen if she was in a quantized state, and bombarded an atom of Kinemet with a photon of her own? Would that, in turn, begin the quantum change in an external object? And if so, could she somehow target that energy?

  Justine didn’t get the chance to test her theory. With her sight, she sensed the arrival of a Kinemetic presence outside the lab.

  She stood up, clutching the sphere to her as Three Crescents entered the room, holding what looked like a portable energy rod.

  The moment he spotted Justine, he aimed the rod at her tank and fired.

  The glass shattered and thousands of liters of water slammed into her.

  18

  Sierra de las Minas :

  Guatemala :

  Long Count: 9.19.19.17.18 :

  I spent the following days in my hut, waiting for my new home to be finished. I felt terrible that I was not able to help. Although I seemed to be recovering faster than expected, I still had difficulty with simple tasks. I could walk around, but I couldn’t lift a bucket of water without pain shooting through my chest.

  Though I hated my new chosen role in the village, I owed it to my people to become the best priest I could. As a warrior, I’d had some lessons in reading glyphs. It was important to understand decrees or orders from the king’s guard. Until a priest arrived from Copán to begin my lessons, I decided to try to teach myself.

  The scrolls the priest had left behind were far beyond my understanding. At first, when I tried to read them, I quickly became frustrated. Without a teacher to guide me, I might as well have tried to learn the language of birds. Even still, I kept trying. After all, I had nothing else to do, and lying down for hours on end was maddening.

  After most of a day trying to figure out the meaning of a certain glyph that was repeated many times in the scrolls, I decided to bring my question to Ohtli Ti, the oldest of our elders.

  It was bad form to approach an elder without first requesting an audience, and even worse to ask an elder to lower themselves to the role of teacher. Without another priest to guide me, however, I had no other choice.

  I picked Ohtli only because, when I was a child, he’d taken supper with my father and our family several times.

  My ribs ached from the effort, and I stood outside the doorway of his house in silence, as much out of respect for his position as to catch my breath.

  I was certain he had noticed me right away, but he went about his own tasks for several minutes before lifting one hand for me to enter his house.

  Bowing and keeping my head lowered, I said, “Forgive me for being familiar, Elder Ti. I mean no disrespect.”

  “The king has decreed you are to become the priest of our village, Subo. It is only right that the elders listen to the counsel of our holy men.”

  I felt a heat rise to my cheeks. “I would not dare to offer my opinions to those who are more learned than I.”

  “But you will.” He nodded to me. “You must become accustomed to your new rank.”

  “Thank you, Elder Ti. I will do my best.”

  I looked up, and he smiled at me.

  “I’m sure you will,” he said. “Now, do we have business today?”

  “Please excuse my ignorance, Elder. I am trying to learn to read Balam Ix’s scrolls, but I am having difficulty.”

  “Show me.”

  I held the scroll out to him and pointed to the glyph that kept appearing.

  He glanced at it and then looked up at me in surprise. “Do you not remember your first lesson? I thought warriors were taught the difference between sound symbols and word symbols.”

  As he said it, I recalled that there were often two ways to write the same word: it could be written out with a symbol for each sound, or a single symbol that represented the word. Most of Balam’s scroll was written with sound symbols, but the one I was not familiar with was a word symbol I had never seen before.

  I flushed. “My apologies, Elder. I should have known. If you could, please tell me what that symbol represents.”

  “Flower,” he said. “Or the essence from that flower.”

  “Thank you, Elder Ti,” I said, and bowed as I backed out of his house.

  Hoping none of the other villagers had witnessed my embarrassment, I headed back to my hut and worked my way through the first scroll. By the time the sun set, I had a basic understanding of the scroll’s meaning: it was a recipe for a paste that would soothe light burns.

  I was excited that I had made so much progress. Over the next two days, I went through as many of Balam’s writings as I could. By the time my new home was completed, I was able to figure out the meaning behind each of the scrolls I had inherited.

  I didn’t let the other villagers know how far I had come. If I told them that I had learned in three days what it would take most others three months to understand, they would regard me with suspicion, and might think I had been replaced by a demon.

  One other thing happened that was more diffic
ult to hide. My ribs were healing faster than they should. I knew, from others who had broken bones, that it could be as many as two winals—forty-days—to recover. At the rate I was healing, I would be fully recovered in a few more days.

  I became nervous that the other villagers would realize that I was different. Though I hated to deceive them, I pretended to be worse than I actually was. If someone questioned me about how I was healing so fast, I would tell them that perhaps I hadn’t been as injured as we had first thought.

  My only explanation was that when Ekahua had put his hand on me and taught me the Song of the Stars, he had somehow changed me. Whether it was a gift or curse, I couldn’t say. I knew that my being different from the others would only draw their fear. At the same time, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for my ability to learn as fast as I had been, and to heal quickly.

  On the fourth morning after we had buried Balam, I woke up and decided to confess everything to my father. He’d heard the story about Ekahua already, and I hoped he would understand that I had not been changed into a demon; that my new abilities were a gift from the sky traveler.

  Before I could reveal myself to him, however, a small squad of warriors from Copán arrived. To my disappointment and confusion, they were not accompanied by a priest.

  Several villagers came out to greet the newcomers. Our smiles of welcome turned to frowns of concern when we realized it was a war party.

  The leader of the squad—a man I had not met before—quickly identified my father, and spoke directly to him. His words were spoken loud enough for the rest of us to hear.

  “Tohil Ak, I hope I find you well.”

  My father greeted him with a hand gesture. “Chaan Xiu, I am well. May we offer you shelter and food?”

  “No,” Chaan said. “I bring orders from Copán. King Ukit Took has been in discussion with the holy order and the council of elders. They have all agreed that the earthquake four days ago was a sign from the gods. The time for us to attack Quiriguá is now. It has been long overdue, do you not agree, Tohil?”

  “I do.” My father glanced around the villagers and spotted me. He pointed to me. “My son has recently come back from his warrior’s trial, where he defeated three Q’eqchi’ fighters. Our enemies have grown weak and lazy.”

  Chaan nodded to me. “I have heard of this conquest by young Subo, who is blessed of the gods.” Turning back to my father, the war leader said, “We are calling all able men to gather in the ceremony field south of Copán tomorrow morning. We will march to Quiriguá and attack at dawn two days from now. Our victory will be sung to our great-grandchildren’s grandchildren.”

  With that, my father and Chaan clasped hands, and the war leader ordered his men on to the next village to spread the call to arms.

  Immediately, my father gathered the eight hunter-warriors in our village and gave them orders to prepare weapons and supplies, and to visit each of the farms in the area to call all men of fighting age to the village. Although they were not dedicated warriors, the farmers had all been trained in basic combat in case of invasion from the Q’eqchi’.

  Once his men were set to the task, my father approached me. My expression of hope turned to disappointment when he put his hand on my shoulder and said, “I am saddened that you must remain here in the village. I promise you I will bring home many Q’eqchi’ slaves for sacrifice. It will be our honor for you to perform the rituals.”

  My father must have mistaken the look on my face for one of uncertainty, because he squeezed my arm. “I have seen you with Balam’s scrolls. You are already able to read them. One of them will describe the ritual of sacrifice, and you will have time before we return to learn what to do. The only thing that would make me more proud than to have you join us in victory is to have you bless our victory with the holy rites.”

  “I will do my best,” I said to my father, trying to hide my personal disappointment as he left me behind and went off to prepare for war.

  ∞

  I woke up the next morning well before the sun rose, and watched from my hut as all the men of the village gathered in the common area, waiting for my father’s order to begin their march to Copán. Their wives and children hovered outside the common area with the few older men who were no longer capable of fighting.

  Before the troop left the village, my father spotted me and waved me over. I approached him, and when I stood next to him, he spoke to the crowd of fighters.

  “Good warriors,” he said, “before we march to battle, I ask that we all pray for a swift and glorious victory. My son, Subo Ak, will lead us in that prayer.”

  For a moment, I froze under the sudden attention from more than a hundred people.

  Somehow, my mind called up the prayer Balam Ix had recited to me before I began my warrior’s trial. Using that as a starting point, I spoke.

  “Nacon, god of war, give our warriors a great revelation of the spiritual and the natural realms. Let them see the strategies of our enemies, give them the might to drive our enemies from their camp, and grant them the strength to withstand any attack.

  “Go with all speed, and return with honor.”

  The warriors raised their arms and cheered. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my father smile and nod to me, and his approval filled my heart.

  Many of the warriors reached out to touch me for additional blessings as they marched out of the village.

  ∞

  I spent the rest of that day elevated in spirit. I’d performed a service to the village, and offered courage and blessing to the warriors. Perhaps becoming the village priest wasn’t the worst thing that could have ever happened to me.

  My mother also benefited. With her husband being the village’s war chief, and her son soon to be the village’s holy leader, her status was greatly raised. Only the elders’ wives received more respect.

  Several of the women in the village brought me food. One of the weavers, Tepin Cen, offered to make me a new set of priest’s clothes. Balam’s were ill fitting.

  I did not have the skill to make my own costume, and so I said, “Yes, please.”

  Since I was still not fully healed, and she did not want me to stand while she took measurements, she asked me for some of my other clothes to use for comparison.

  I gave her the pack I had used on my warrior’s trial, and she picked it up and left my home, promising that she would have something for me to try on the next day.

  Having nothing more to do, I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to read Balam’s scrolls, proud that I could understand most of what he wrote.

  It was less than an hour later when I heard a scream from the other side of the village. My ribs were still tender, and I could not run, but I walked as fast as I could to where a group of people had gathered around Tepin’s house. The women were all speaking at once, pointing and asking each other what had happened.

  When I arrived, they parted for me. Though I had no skill in healing, I was still their priest. A few of the women looked at me expectantly.

  In front of the weaver’s house, Tepin was lying on the ground. The skin on her hands and face was blistering and turning black, as if she were being burned by fire. She looked up at me, and made a horrible sound, pleading for help.

  Beside her was my pack. Several of the items in it were strewn about on the ground, as if the pack had been upturned.

  Neither her body nor my pack was what drew my attention. She had taken the items out of my pack. Near my belt, there was a tiny ball of glowing light on the ground in front of Tepin. Slowly, it grew brighter and brighter.

  I remembered the grain of what I had thought was sand, which I had taken from Ekahua’s sky boat, and I recalled his warning not to let the sun shine on the stone block, which held those grains.

  One of the younger girls, Mizquixaual, who was standing very close to Tepin, cried out and fell over. Her skin began to blister and bubble. I grabbed her and pulled her away from the growing star grain, but the effort of it sent a sharp pa
in through my chest, and I suddenly felt like throwing up.

  Elder Nentil Mo’Nab, who arrived moments after I had, pointed at the glowing ball and said, “It is a tear from Kinich Ahau, the sun god! It is a weapon sent by the Q’eqchi’.”

  I saw my mother push her way through the gathering crowd. She had a stick in her hand. Before I could yell at her to stop, she swung it at the glowing grain. I was certain her only intention was to send the burning object as far away as possible. I watched with growing dread as the stick connected with the star grain, sending it arcing through the air straight for the fire pit in the common area.

  “Run!” I yelled to everyone, and despite the sharp pain in my chest, I grabbed Mizquixaual by her arms and dragged her behind the weaver’s house.

  The burst of light that washed over the village was brighter than the sun at noon, and hotter than the biggest fire we’d ever built in the common area. The power of it knocked me off my feet, and the breath rushed out of me when I hit the ground.

  It seemed like hours before I could focus and look around the village. Most everyone was still lying on the ground. Some were curled up, either moaning in pain, or crying in fear. Others, closer to the common area, were not moving at all, and I feared they might be dead. Everyone I saw had burns on their skin.

  Elder Mo’Nab was on the ground beside me. His eyes were open, but unseeing. I saw a trickle of blood coming from under his hairline, and his head lay on a jagged rock. He was dead.

  On the other side of me, Mizquixaual was alive, but the burns she’d gotten earlier had begun to peel and bleed.

  Groaning with the effort, I pushed myself to my hands and knees.

  Where the fire pit had once been, there was now a huge crater. The entire common area was blackened and scorched.

  Several of the houses closer to the common area, including mine and the elders’, were ablaze. Wincing with every step, I hurried over, but long before I got there, I knew there were no survivors.