by S. H. Jucha
“Greetings, Homsaff,” Z said, through a small mouth used for mineral sampling. “You must hurry and join the others for your safety.”
Homsaff had admired the huge, heavy-bodied human since she first saw him. To a Dischnya’s mind, size and strength meant power, and Z possessed them in great quantity. When she discovered he was one of the metal soma, she became even more fascinated by him. Now, the idea that Z had transferred into this creature’s body made her dizzy to know more. In an emotional reaction, she licked the small metal face with her long tongue and raced after the team.
When Miranda was sure that Z was safely in reach of the traveler, she hurried to protect the team, who were already inside the edifice and scanning the glyphs.
This time the combination of the commanders’ sound-sensing surveillance and the twins scanning the grounds from the top of the steps, ensured the queens and wasats weren’t surprised.
The queens and wasats fanned out without encouragement from Alex. They were anxious to complete their perusal of the glyphs and return to the safety of the ship, as soon as possible.
Posnossa followed the glyphs from the top of a column down its side when she suddenly stopped and reread the last few glyphs. She loosed a series of barks, before she corrected herself and called to Dassata. The team crowded around her, and she pointed to a series of carvings halfway up the column.
Alex carefully stored the entire column in his implant, while Posnossa read out the meaning of the glyphs.
“That one, Dassata,” Posnossa said, pointing at a complex carving, “It states the annual and the season, but it means nothing to us without knowing the planet’s recordkeeping of time.”
“Understood, Chona, please continue,” Alex replied.
“Beneath it is the symbol for a ship. The center glyph is enveloped in two circles, which means it was round and large. The small symbol to the side means it wasn’t Dischnya in nature.”
“Anything else?” Alex asked hopefully.”
“I’m not certain, Dassata,” Posnossa replied.
Sissya stepped close to the column and eyed the glyphs. “The carvings below the ship glyph are numbers or a counting of some sort. Because they’re below and have no other symbols, they must relate to the ship.”
“What do the numbers mean?” Alex asked anxiously.
“I don’t understand them, Dassata … deepest apologies,” Sissya replied.
“Alex,” Julien said, “perhaps the queens don’t understand them because they aren’t simple numbers. They could be degrees, declination, planet rotation, or some other astronomical notations.”
Alex stared at the column, not seeing the carvings. He needed a translator, and it had to be someone on this planet with enough knowledge to translate the numbers. “Plan C-2,” Alex said, slapping his friend on the shoulder. “Come on, people,” he yelled, as he hurried out of the edifice, past the twins, and down the steps.
When Alex reached the mass of fallen warriors, he stopped. The long-legged queens and wasats were right behind him. “Is there a wasat among these warriors?” he asked, and the six Dischnya spread out to check the bodies.
“None, Dassata,” Sissya finally replied, “but Messlan believes the one at his feet might be a sub-commander.”
“Take him,” Alex commanded.
His request didn’t translate for the Dischnya, who stood rooted in place, their muzzles quivering in confusion.
Miranda walked over to the body, scooped up the fallen warrior, and marched toward the traveler.
The queens and wasats followed behind, speaking softly to one another, and trying to understand what Dassata intended to do with the warrior.
Everyone skirted around Z, who’d followed, back in his box shape, to board the traveler. Then Miranda, Miriam, and Z used their incredible strength to lever Z through the hatch opening, which was a tight fit, and onto the ship.
Once everyone was aboard, Alex ordered Svetlana to return to the Rêveur.
-16-
Waffala
During the traveler’s return, Homsaff knelt in front of Z, who stayed folded in his avatar so he could be unloaded from the ship. She could barely discern the small head surrounded by the solid wall of metal. The discovery of metal soma with their incredible capabilities secretly fascinated her, and she yearned to explore the world of Dassata’s SADEs.
“How many bodies do you have, Z?” Homsaff asked.
“We call them avatars, Chona. I’ve thirty-four now.”
“Do others of your kind have many bodies?”
“Most do not. My partner, who you see in the heavy body with the woman’s figure, does have a smaller body.”
“How do you move yourself? Are you so tiny that you can fit inside and drive them like a ship?”
“No, Homsaff, we move our minds between the bodies.”
“Could you move my mind into one of these creatures … these avatars?”
“No, Homsaff, we can’t move a biological mind.”
When Z saw that the queen didn’t recognize the term, he added, “A human, Dischnya, or Swei Swee are biological. They have the minds of living beings.”
“So, you aren’t a living being?” Homsaff asked, feeling as if she had lost the thread of the conversation.
“SADEs live, but not in a manner you would understand.”
If Z thought his answers would douse Homsaff’s curiosity by virtue of being too strange to comprehend, he was wrong. Homsaff’s desire to learn the ways of Dassata’s soma had exploded exponentially with her discovery of the world of SADEs, who could move their minds.
* * *
When Sub-commander Waffala awoke, his head buzzed and his stomach churned. Slowly the disconcerting symptoms subsided, except for an awful thirst. Lying on his back, he struggled to sit up, but found his limbs bound to a table.
Waffala was surprised he was still alive. His first thought was that the creatures had captured him so that he might be served up on their tables, and he hoped for a quick and painless death before they carved his body.
The sub-commander took stock of his surroundings. Everything disturbed him. Gone were the smells of Sawa — his queen, his soma, the underground, and the dusty, dry plains. Instead, he saw metal where there should be dirt, doors where there should be curtains, and light coming from strange devices.
“Our captive’s awake,” Miranda said to Alex. Both Z and she had transferred to less-intimidating avatars.
“Okay, people, proceed as planned,” Alex said to the individuals surrounding him on the bridge. “But be careful. He may be Dischnya, but he’s not from Sawa Messa.”
Sissya tipped her muzzle in understanding and left the bridge in the company of her wasat, Offwa, and the twins.
At the medical suite, Alain signaled the door aside and stepped back. Alex had stated repeatedly that they needed this warrior’s cooperation, so the plan was to approach him slowly with the familiar, one queen and one wasat.
Sissya stepped through the doorway, arching her tail high behind her, signaling a queen’s dominance. Offwa stepped beside her, and they waited for the warrior to appraise them.
Waffala thought he was dreaming, and he stared at the two Dischnya, waiting for his vision to clear.
“I’m Chona Sissya, Ossnos Soma, Sawa Messa,” Sissya said, rising on her hind legs, tail thrashing behind her.
Waffala’s jaw dropped open but quickly snapped shut. “Liar,” he hissed, and Offwa growled at the insult to his queen.
“Why do you think I lie to you, warrior?” Sissya asked patiently, touching the tip of her tail to her wasat’s thigh to calm him. Dassata had coached her repeatedly to be patient and take her time, stating the need to earn the
warrior’s trust.
“Warrior?” Waffala replied, indignant at the word. “I’m Sub-commander Waffala, Tamassa Soma.” He’d tried to rise to declare his title, but the bindings held him fast, and he growled in frustration.
“Well, Sub-commander Waffala,” Sissya said, “I await your response to my question.”
“The Dischnya of Sawa Messa exist no more,” Waffala hissed. “They died soon after reaching the planet or during the journey there. These truths are known.”
“Then how do you explain us?” Sissya asked.
“This is a trick. You’re a queen of Sawa, trying to gain our soma for your own.”
Sissya chortled. “I see our conversation will not be quick, Waffala. Would you like some water?” Sissya picked up a squirt bottle left by Miranda and held it up to the sub-commander.
Waffala’s throat burned, but he eyed the bottle dubiously.
Sissya recognized the fear in Waffala’s eyes, so she tipped the bottle over her muzzle, squeezed it, and shot the water into her mouth. She smacked her jaw noisily, exaggerating the freshness of the drink. The display worked. Waffala’s jaw dropped down, and his tongue licked his dry lips. Sissya stepped next to the table, held the bottle over Waffala’s mouth, and waited. Finally, he opened his mouth, and Sissya squirted a small amount to wet his throat.
“More?” Sissya asked. This was another lesson from Dassata — generosity to the warrior must be doled out in small portions. When Waffala nodded, Sissya gave him another squirt and then stepped back, pleased to see the sub-commander thirstily eyeing the water bottle.
“Sub-commander, look around you,” Sissya commanded. “Have you seen the like of this structure on Sawa?”
Waffala had tried desperately to ignore his surroundings — the gleaming metal surfaces, the lack of the familiar smells, and the doorway that slid aside without anyone touching it. Now, this foreign queen, who declared she was from the planet of the dead, was forcing him to examine them.
Sissya watched the fear return to the sub-commander’s eyes, as he examined the medical suite and its objects. You have my sympathies, Waffala. I remember my first experience aboard an alien ship, Sissya thought ruefully. She stepped close to the table and held up the water bottle. When he opened his mouth, she gave him another squirt. This time, she didn’t step back.
“We don’t intend to hurt you, Waffala,” Sissy said gently. “We need your help to translate some glyphs, some carvings, and then we’ll release you back on Sawa.”
“What do you mean back on Sawa?” Waffala asked, focusing on the strange phrase.
“We’re aboard a ship high above Sawa, Sub-commander,” Sissya explained.
More lies, Waffala thought, but he kept that thought to himself.
“Will you help us?” Sissya asked.
“Your word, as a queen, that I’ll be returned safely?” Waffala asked.
“Chona Sissya, Ossnos Soma, Sawa Messa, gives her word,” Sissya replied, standing erect. She stepped away from the table, saying, “Your bonds will be released by two of the aliens who operate this ship. Don’t be frightened by them; while they’re odd-looking, they mean you no harm and are friends of the Dischnya of Sawa Messa.
The creatures who stepped through the doorway were indeed strange in appearance to Waffala’s eyes. Nearly hairless about the face, possessing blunt muzzles, and pink skin like a newborn mewling, they were wrapped in strange coverings. But, odder than all that, they looked exactly alike, and he wondered if all the aliens would appear the same. The thought made him shudder.
Without anyone approaching Waffala, the straps suddenly released the pressure on his limbs and waist. Gently, he tested to see if he could sit up, which he could, and he swung his legs over the side of the table. Eyeing the two aliens and the two Dischnya, Waffala made a hasty decision. He bolted toward the doorway, intending to exit these metal tunnels, which he was sure were buried somewhere on Sawa.
Unfortunately for the sub-commander, Sissya stood in his way. Offwa leapt in front of his queen for her protection, and Étienne was forced to stun the poor, frantic Dischnya a second time. Alain caught the warrior before his momentum had him slamming into something that might hurt him.
Watching the entire scene on the bridge holo-vid, Alex was disgusted with the outcome of the meeting and swore, “Black space!”
“Dassata, space is black, or so I’ve learned. What do your words mean in regard to this event?” Homsaff asked.
Alex was caught speechless, and, to cover the moment, he tapped his temple indicating he was talking to his soma, and Homsaff dipped her muzzle in understanding. Captain Lumley and Glenn covered their mouths to hide their smiles.
“I believe this next iteration should be labeled plan C-2b. I do hope there is sufficient alphabet to reach our goal,” Julien commented drily.
“Z, Miranda, rig a portable chair in which to strap our reluctant warrior. I want him to awake up here in the company of Dischnya, aliens, and a starship bridge. Let’s see if that convinces him to help us. Send for me when he stirs. After two stun blasts, it’ll be awhile, I’m thinking.”
* * *
Tears ran from Waffala’s eyes, when he tried to open them against the blinding light. His head pounded, as if to the beat of an enormous drum, and the nerves of his body itched. Once again, he was bound. But more than anything, he felt defeated and accepted the fact that his impending death was due to his fate of having been captured.
Waffala could hear voices, but he kept his eyes closed. An object touched his face, and he jerked away, but it continued to pat his cheeks, drying them. Then damp material was laid across his eyes, and the cool, dark was bliss.
“Drink,” Waffala heard a chona say, and he opened his mouth to receive a squirt of refreshing water. He continued to swallow and dropped his jaw again. As many times as he did, he received water until his thirst was quenched. The simple attentions helped the irritations and pains to fade, and he was content to lie quietly and recover.
But Waffala jerked alert when the wet object over his eyes was removed. He blinked and waited for his eyes to adjust. When he could hold his eyes open, he was mesmerized by a painting of a unique tan and brown ball against a backdrop of stars.
“Welcome back, Sub-commander Waffala,” Sissya said. “If you’re wondering, that’s a view of Sawa, as seen from our ship high above the planet.”
Waffala ached to denounce the lie, but the thought of receiving another burst of fire from the aliens’ weapons kept his muzzle closed. He felt his chair rotated, and he came face to face with aliens, queens, and wasats.
“I’m going to show you some carvings, Sub-commander. I need you to identity them,” Alex said.
Waffala didn’t know which struck him harder, the sight of the huge alien or that it spoke nearly flawless Dischnya. Before he could make up his mind, an image of a column within the sacred temple sprung up from an alien device near him.
“Do you know the meaning of these symbols?” Alex asked.
Waffala glanced at the alien, and hot anger made him growl. They had desecrated the nest’s protected sanctuary by entering and stealing a piece of it. “Thieves,” he hissed.
Posnossa chortled at the sub-commander, which wounded his pride, as she meant it to do. Then the queen passed her hand through the holo-vid. “This is an image, a copy of what we saw, Waffala,” Posnossa explained. “We stole nothing.”
The harder Waffala tried to muster an attack against the invaders, the more he was confused by what they presented. Doubt crept through his thoughts.
“Tell us what you know of these symbols, Sub-commander, and we’ll free you,” Alex repeated.
“They’re meaningless,” Waffala replied, and his statement produced a round of chortling and bared teeth.
“You’re incensed we would enter and steal from your center of learning,” Homsaff challenged. “It’s obvious that it has great worth to you, but you would ask us to believe that the carvings on its walls and columns are worthless. Yo
ur nest must be weak to allow one of your simplemindedness to be elevated to the rank of sub-commander.”
Homsaff’s jibe hit home, and Waffala growled his resentment.
“Dassata, I don’t think this one should be taken below. You should open a door and let him walk out, as he believes he’s capable of doing,” Homsaff said with disdain.
“You don’t know how to read the carvings, do you, Sub-commander Waffala?” Julien asked, not unkindly. “You’ve never been taught to read them.”
Waffala hung his head with guilt. The aliens had easily discovered what he sought to hide. Only a few, the eldest among the soma, could read the temple’s inscriptions, and they closely guarded their skill.
Alex didn’t need Waffala’s verbal response. The answer was plain to see. He blew out his breath in frustration.
* * *
On the trip below to return Waffala to his nest, a thought struck Alex, and he walked down the aisle toward the hatch where the sub-commander sat strapped in his portable chair.
“You would like us to leave your nest and your center of learning alone, wouldn’t you, Sub-commander?” Alex asked.
Waffala thought the alien’s question must be some kind of trick, and he waited for the creature to expose it.
“Do you want me to tell you how you can make that happen?” Alex pressed.
Refusing to answer the alien seemed the best course of action to Waffala, so he remained silent. Unfortunately, the creature stood there, continuing to stare at him in an eerily quiet way, as if he was prepared to wait until the end of time. The alien’s intense eyes made Waffala squirm.