The two embraced, and it was a long time before the woman stopped crying.
Michael, not wanting to intrude on the reunion, turned to Humberto. “We might be here a while.”
“Oh?”
“I feel like an ass,” Michael said. “I was so wrapped up in everything else that’s happened in the past while, it completely slipped my mind. Four years ago, Yaxche’s grandson, Terry, was killed on Venus.” The sharp memory of Kenny’s recent murder cut through his mind. He intended to contact the young physicist’s family and extend his condolences, and vowed to do so the first chance he got.
“Ah.” Humberto nodded. “Te’irjiil. Another victim of Jose’s madness. I regret my part in involving him in that mess.”
When Michael looked up, he noticed Yaxche waving him over. Humberto followed a few steps behind.
Yaxche said, “My daughter wants to thank you for bringing me back to her. She wishes us to spend the evening to hear the story of my grandson’s sacrifice. There is plenty of room on the floor, and she has spare blankets for the night. In the morning, we will go.”
“Of course,” Michael said.
Humberto turned to his two men and instructed them to park the truck on the outskirts of the village. “The three of us will set up rotating patrols.”
Michael followed Yaxche and his daughter into the house, where they waited for her husband to return from work before they ate supper. Yaxche’s two granddaughters, Rosalia and Maria, clung to their grandfather and would not let him do anything for himself.
Michael’s translator had been disabled by Humberto, in case it had a tracker, and he fervently wished he’d had time to pick up another one. He had some difficulty following the conversation among the Hernandez family, and had to rely on Humberto to translate.
They spent the evening listening to stories of Terry’s youth, and his love for Itzel. When it came time for Michael to share what he knew of Terry’s fate, he told his mother that he was sorry that he’d never had the chance to meet the young man.
To his surprise, Humberto told of his experiences with Terry, and didn’t gloss over his role in inducting the youth into the Cruzados.
“He had the heart of a crusader,” Humberto said in conclusion. “And it is because of his true spirit, and those like him, that we continue our fight.”
Michael expected Yaxche’s daughter to be outraged at Humberto, but instead, she held her husband’s hand and said, “Te’irjiil le habría perdonado, estoy seguro. No podemos hacer menos.”
“Gracias,” Humberto said, his voice solemn.
∞
The next morning, the five of them piled back in the truck and headed out. Yaxche would not tell them their destination. He merely indicated which turns to take.
As they headed west toward Copán Ruinas, Migel gave Humberto a concerned look.
Humberto, checking his holoslate, leaned forward and spoke to Yaxche. “It looks as if you are taking us to the border crossing of Guatemala. If that’s our destination, we need to stop. We can’t get past the border patrol.”
Having read up on the region, Michael knew that under ordinary circumstances, crossing into Guatemala wouldn’t be a problem. The custom’s office was more of a prolonged toll operation and casual check stop. If Michael gave them his passport, however, it would register on the national-security grid, flagging him to Ruiz and his operation.
“Head north at the ruins,” Yaxche said to Migel, and Humberto let out a sigh of relief.
“We’ve only got a few more hours’ hydrogen in the tank,” Migel said. “How far north is your friend?”
“We will be fine,” Yaxche said.
Sensing everyone else’s discomfort, Michael asked, “Can you show us on a map?”
Turning in his seat, Yaxche said, “I have not seen my friend since I was a young man, but I will remember how to get there.”
Realizing that, for a great number of cultures, landmark navigation was the primary means of travel, Michael sat back in the seat and looked out the window, watching the farms and forests fly past.
After a little over an hour, turning one direction and then another on dirt roads, they arrived at a small plantation. Michael glanced at Humberto’s holoslate.
“We’re here,” he said, pointing to a spot on the small map on the holoslate display. “Right near the border.”
There weren’t any signs telling them what plantation it was, and Michael fervently hoped they had nothing to do with Oscar Ruiz.
A horse and rider plodding along the edge of the main entranceway spotted them, and turned toward them.
Migel spoke to the man in Spanish, and Michael wished he had a translator with him. He didn’t want to ask Humberto what was being said every time.
The rider looked across the seat to Yaxche, who spoke rapidly. A moment later, the rider replied, and pointed farther north along the road.
“Gracias,” Migel said, putting the truck into gear.
Yaxche, sounding excited, said, “My friend has retired from the plantation, and has a villa down the road.”
The road, little better than a goat trail, cut left and right several times before leading to a small clearing. A modest house stood there. A dozen chickens walked freely around the property. There was a small barn with a pen holding a few pigs.
As Migel pulled up, a man who could only be described as ancient stepped out from the doorway, a wide grin on his face as he waved to his visitors.
Stepping out of the truck, Yaxche hurried over to his friend, shook his hand and gave him a heartfelt slap on the arm.
They spoke in Spanish, and Michael didn’t need Humberto to figure out they were re-acquainting themselves with one another.
If they hadn’t seen each other in over half a century, there would be a lot of catching up to do.
Michael noticed that Migel and Diego automatically migrated to either end of the property, trying to look casual as they set up watch posts. The paranoia might not be necessary, this far away from any major population, but then again, if something happened, help was a long way off. He decided to be thankful the men were on guard.
Humberto patiently waited until the two older men finished saying hello to each other.
Yaxche turned and said, “Michael, Humberto, I am pleased to introduce my oldest friend to you. This is Patli, who is also the grandnephew to my grandfather’s brother. He does not speak English, but he has agreed to talk to you for a time. Perhaps he will share his story with you. Come, sit.”
They followed Yaxche and Patli to a small area on the side of the house opposite the pen, where several wooden chairs were set out around a barrel.
“Patli does not often get visitors, but he always has a few spare chairs just in case.”
The four of them arranged themselves around the barrel, and Patli spoke, looking at Michael with a kindly smile.
“He says he wonders if this is the first time you have stepped out into the sun.” Yaxche grinned. “He’s never seen a person so pale before.”
With a nod, Michael said, “I come from a land far to the north, where it snows half of the year. The sun is much colder there than here.”
Yaxche translated, and then said, “He has never seen snow, but he heard a story about a man made of snow once, and thought someone was pulling a trick on him.”
Michael laughed. “It’s true. I’ve made a few myself, when I was younger.”
They spoke casually like that for an hour, allowing Patli to get to know them.
Just as the noon sun peaked, Patli spoke at length to Yaxche.
Humberto narrowed his eyes at what he heard, and Michael’s anticipation grew.
Turning to Michael, Yaxche spoke. “I have told my friend that you and George were the first ones, besides my grandson, who understood the Song of the Stars, and that you needed to hear the rest of the story. Patli says he has not told the story in many years—no one is interested in the ramblings of us old men—but he is happy that you have shown patience to
day. If you have a little more patience, he will tell you the story that was passed down from his grandfather’s grandfather many generations back.
“It is the story of the dying god, and of the young hunter who discovered him, and who was the first to hear the divine Song of the Stars. He was my and Patli’s ancestor, who wrote the Song of the Stars as told to him by the dying god. His name was Subo Ak.”
25
Gliesan Ship :
Centauri System :
“Stop,” Justine said the moment after she returned to her corporeal self on the bridge of the alien ship. “Don’t kill them.”
To her surprise, the two bird-like bipeds stopped their attack. A power indicator on the display of the control array leveled down.
Both aliens, sitting on chairs that floated a meter off the floor, turned to face her. Their faces were vaguely human in shape, except that the lower halves were drawn forward and came to a point, like a soft beak. Neither had hair; instead, their heads were covered with a feather-like down. One of them had predominately blue and green coloring, while the other was yellow and orange.
Both regarded her with cocked heads.
It was only under their scrutiny that Justine realized she was completely naked. When she’d quantized herself, she had not converted her clothing, since she’d only just developed the theory on how to quantize other beings or objects. Her attention had been focused on Three Crescents’ attack, and defending herself by changing him into photons. She realized that, from this point on, she should be able to quantize her clothing and spare herself further embarrassment when she returned to her physical form.
Self-consciously, she threw one arm over her breasts and used her other hand to cover her lower regions. As hard as she could, she willed herself not to let her face flush red with embarrassment.
Justine’s discomfort was forgotten when the blue-and-green-colored alien spoke, and she heard the translation a split-second later. The voice was male and soft-spoken; a complete contrast to the impersonal machine voice of the Kulsat translator computer.
“Apologies. You must be Major Justine Turner. We sensed your Aetherform.” He pointed to the ship on his display console. “We believed you were trying to destroy the Kulsat shuttle, and we were attempting to assist.”
Justine, stunned that they knew her name, said, “The Kulsat on the shuttle helped me escape the mining ship where I was taken prisoner by two of their ‘Risen’.”
Although she’d been one of the first to discover the evidence that the universe was home to thousands of different species of sentient beings, and had just spent the last few days interacting with a race of cephalopods, it still took her some time to adjust to meeting a new life form. She wished the circumstances were less dramatic and proper introductions could be made.
“It is amusing,” the alien said, and Justine wasn’t immediately certain the translator was working correctly. “We came to the Centauri System to attempt to rescue you from the Kulsat. Now, you are rescuing the Kulsat from us.”
“Rescue me?” Justine asked. “Who are you? How do you know who I am?”
The pilot got up from the floating chair. A moment later, the chair slowly sank down and seemed to melt into the floor, as if being absorbed into the superstructure.
Standing well over three meters in height, the alien made a bowing motion and fluttered two wing-like hands.
“Forgive our impoliteness. Our names are not completely pronounceable in your language, but a reasonable representation of mine is ‘Naila’. I am the Primary Sentinel of the ‘Fainne’, our ship. This is ‘Fairamai’. She is the navigator and copilot. We are from the system you call Gliese.”
The other alien stood up and made a bowing gesture of her own. Her translation voice was feminine with dulcet tones. “Pleased to meet you, Solan being.”
“I’m Justine,” she said. The two Gliesans made a funny little cock of their heads, and Justine flushed when she remembered that they already knew who she was. “Uhm. Is it possible to borrow some clothing?”
The two aliens conferred, and Fairamai nodded to Justine. “We have some nesting fabric that may be long enough for you to use as an outer wrap, if that is suitable.”
“Thank you,” Justine said, and offered a grateful smile as the tall alien exited the bridge, presumably to retrieve the clothing.
Naila resumed his story. “We received a report from one of our patrol vessels detailing your arrival in this system, followed by the Kulsat attack and your abduction. They requested we come to this system to investigate and should you still be here, retrieve you.”
“Patrol?” Justine asked. “Did they find my friends, our ship?”
“According to our readings, the remains of your vessel are on a disused port several hundred-thousand kilometers from here. Your ship is no longer serviceable. It was severed with a mining energy beam. Your friends are no longer in this system.”
His last sentence had a reproachful tone to it.
“Where are they?” She looked up as Fairamai returned with a long, multicolored sheet of thin fabric. It was very soft and bore a faint floral scent. Justine wrapped it around herself in a makeshift toga, and immediately felt less vulnerable.
Naila made a clucking sound. “Our colleagues have escorted your friends to your home system after transmitting their report to us.”
“That’s a relief,” Justine said. “Can you take me to my system as well?”
The alien made a vibrating motion with his head, which Justine interpreted as a negative. “I’m afraid travel to your system is forbidden to us by law. Aliah and Ah Tabai have broken protocol. When they return, they will certainly face criminal charges for their transgression.”
Justine felt herself grow more frustrated. New obstacles seemed to develop at every step.
“Why is it forbidden?”
“Yours is not an Emerged system. The ancient law of the Grace forbids interference with non-Emerged cultures. I will be happy to explain this all to you, but for now, it is vital we leave Centauri and return to Gliese System.”
“Will the Kulsat return?” Justine guessed.
Naila nodded. “Centauri is barren of a native population. The Kulsat frequent this system, looking for Aetherock to mine—I believe you refer to it as ‘Kinemet’. They obviously detected your presence.”
“What will they do now?” Justine asked.
Naila said, “They will report your presence here, and the Kulsat will return in force. We must leave this system.”
Justine’s mind was awhirl with all the information. Her immediate concern was the safety of her friends and Earth. “Won’t the Kulsat be able to follow us to Gliese?”
“No. Emerged systems have some defense against attack. Our star beacons are masked. Only when a star beacon is active can an Aetherbeing detect it.”
“So the Kulsat won’t be able to follow the other patrol ship to my home system, either?”
Naila shook his head. “Only if they were close enough to the star beacon to sense the activation. If that were the case, they would be in your solar system now. We do not have any indication that is the case.”
“Why wouldn’t they just go to the nearest solar system in this area of space?” she asked, aware that Centauri and Sol were close neighbors.
Naila crooked his head in what Justine assumed was a sign of amusement. “There are billions of systems in the galaxy, and spacial proximity is not a factor when traveling by the star beacons. You could have arrived here from anywhere. The star beacon in your system is unknown to the Kulsat or the galactic network. The Gliesans are the only ones who know its location, and we have guarded the secret for a very long time.”
“How will they find us, then?”
Naila said, “The Kulsat will most likely set up a permanent post in Centauri at first. Should anyone from Sol System travel here again, the Kulsat will be able to track them.”
It took a moment for Justine to absorb it all. The next ship to use the star be
acon to travel to Centauri would be flying into a trap. She felt overwhelmed. “So what can I do?”
“Return to our home system with us. You will be safe until our Council can make a determination.”
“Determination?”
“On whether yours is to be considered an Emerged system or not.”
“And what will that accomplish?”
“If you are invited to join the Collection of Worlds, we may offer your system the technology to defend yourselves.” Naila paused before he added, “If you are not granted status as an Emerged system, we cannot interfere, even if the Kulsat invade you.”
Justine took that all in. She knew she was a guest aboard the Gliesan patrol ship. Though she didn’t want to seem ungrateful, she couldn’t accept or understand their policy.
“If you can’t interfere, then why are you helping me?”
“Simply put,” Naila said, “there is an ambiguity in the galactic law. You, individually, are physically outside your pre-Emerged system. We may assist you, personally, without actually interfering in the pre-Emerged progress of your world. Though we can offer you amnesty and protection, we are not permitted to offer you technological advances. You will be remanded to a holding station at the outer edge of our system until a decision can be made, and you will not have access to any restricted information or material.”
“What happens if you break the law and interfere?” Justine asked.
“The other member systems of the Collection would turn against our world. This is the reason we are at war with the Kulsat; they broke the law of the Grace.”
“And you’ve been at war for how long?” Justine asked.
“The equivalent of over one-thousand Solan years.” Naila seemed to be growing impatient with all the questions. “Though there are more than twenty-thousand member systems in the Collection, the Kulsat outnumber us. They have colonized thousands of non-populated systems.”
“Twenty-thousand?” Justine remembered the writing on the Dis Pater, the monument housing the star beacon on Pluto. “I thought there were over thirty-thousand races out there?”
Worlds Away (The Interstellar Age Book 3) Page 17