“I don’t believe it,” said Andrai.
“He must have been strapped into one of the console chairs,” said Mara. “Otherwise, he would have been minced-meat after that fall.”
“OK,” said Karic. “Let’s forget about Janzen for now. He is going nowhere. Let’s find out how badly damaged the lander is.”
Andrai went straight to the console and activated the controls, which had automatically gone into standby. Lights came on inside the cabin.
Immediately, an image of Janzen came to life on the main display.
“What is it, Andrai?” asked Karic.
Andrai tapped the keyboard, scrolling through a few screens.
“It’s a record of a transmission log. It looks like Janzen set up his own link to the ship and made a transmission back to Earth via Starburst.”
To Earth?
“Do you want me to play it?” asked Andrai.
Karic nodded, his heart thundering in his chest.
First came the flat feminine voice of the lander AI. “Log of transmission from Commander Janzen Davis to ExploreCorp command.”
At the mention of Janzen as commander, Karic’s foreboding grew.
The screen flickered and the log jumped back to the beginning of the transmission. Janzen stood upright before the console camera, his poise faultless as he played the part of the wounded hero.
“It is with regret that I have to report the death of the remaining officers of Starburst. Karic, who led an unlawful mutiny against me, died tragically on the surface of Oasis, bitten by a poisonous animal. After I confronted him, he chose to run and hide on the surface of the planet, stealing a pod from Starburst. Unfortunately, his cowardly act killed him. I led a rescue attempt to the surface, but the remaining officers, Ibri, Andrai, and the astronomer Mara were all killed in a tragic accident. A fault in the lander ignition system resulted in an explosion of the external fuel tanks. All were killed while taking samples outside the lander. I was inside the lander when it happened … and am the only survivor.”
Janzen lowered his head, halting, as though overcome by grief. The executive quickly glanced at his comband, which puzzled Karic until he realized Janzen was actually timing the pause. With another surreptitious glance at his comband, Janzen continued. It was exactly a count of ten seconds. The whole “moment” of emotion had been staged for effect.
“But I have the pleasure to report the mission to Tau Ceti a success! Karic’s report — after his mutiny — of an X-ray source in the vicinity and a black hole were the delusions of a disturbed mind. The deaths of the crew did not result from radiation, but from a failure in the stasis equipment. Ibri, before his tragic death, confirmed it was human error, an unfortunate side-effect of Karic’s deteriorating mental state. I take full responsibility for this terrible breakdown in command.” Janzen paused, his face grim. Then he brightened, giving a perfect, white-toothed smile.
“But triumph can arise from tragedy. The planet of Oasis is a paradise … Not only does it have near-earth gravity with an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere, it already supports life! A thriving ecosystem easily adapted to intensive agriculture. Although the planet is tidally locked, a local geothermal anomaly on the dark side has created ample heat and light. Perfect conditions to support human life.
“More importantly, it is terra nullius — unoccupied — with no sentient life forms.”
Janzen beamed triumphantly at the camera. Karic could imagine the audience of ExploreCorp executives neatly outlined before his mind’s eye.
“As Chief Executive Officer of ExploreCorp, I direct the immediate dispatch of the ExploreCorp colonization fleet. A fully armed Defender ship should be arranged to arrive two months prior. I have a separate set of instructions for this ship, including my location for rescue, that has been sent earlier under encryption.”
Janzen looked at the camera, his smile seemingly genuine.
“Gentlemen and ladies of the board, this is a new era for mankind, and it is ExploreCorp that will lead the way.
“Commander Janzen Davis, ExploreCorp. Signing off.”
Karic savagely stabbed at the console to shut off the recording. His head thumped with sudden pressure. His ears rang as the blood surged through them.
“Andrai, can you get at the other encoded transmissions?”
Andrai worked long, silent minutes.
Karic’s eyes were locked on the still form of Janzen, his head filled with dark thoughts of revenge. The bastard had never expected them to survive. But now …. now Janzen was at their mercy. It would be all too easy to abort the suspension sequence. He would be dead in minutes. But Karic would never do that. It would be cold-blooded murder. No. Janzen must answer for his crimes.
Andrai looked up and grimly shook his head. “No go, boss. I will never crack that code.”
“Damn him! God knows what instructions he has sent back to Earth via Starburst. If a Defender class ship arrives here — it will start a damn interstellar war.”
Karic thought quickly. He needed to send another transmission back to Earth to refute Janzen’s slanderous lies, but before he did so, he needed to know exactly what commands Janzen had sent back to the Earth system. That idiot had no idea of the power of the Fintil. The very survival of Earth was at stake. He would need to revive Janzen and interrogate him. Damn! He did not have time for this. Karic knew he needed to get them all off this planet and on their way back to Earth before anything else went wrong.
He forced himself to think it through. It took months to prep a ship for an interstellar voyage. So he had plenty of time to deal with Janzen and organize a second transmission. Ideally it would be Janzen himself who would send it, admitting to everything and canceling his orders; then Karic could send a followup message, fully confident of its reception by ExploreCorp and Earth.
“Forget him, Karic. We are still here,” said Mara. “We know the true story and we will make sure it is told when we reach Earth again.”
Karic glared at Janzen. Some day he would get exactly what he deserved.
“We need to get operational,” insisted Mara.
With a supreme effort, Karic tore his eyes away from the still figure. “OK. Let’s get to it.”
Karic and his crew inspected the lander’s core section. Although the structure was intact, the damage to the hardware and controlling systems had been severe. This Karic was willing to accept — it was the suspension gear that really mattered. They would need it on their return to Earth. The engineer carefully tested the other portable sets, each locked securely behind thick doors of shielding metal designed to protect them from radiation.
They are serviceable.
Karic’s heart raced with new fire. He had devoted years of his life to developing this technology. He had been willing to risk everything to be part of this first journey of mankind into space. To find these sets intact was like finding a part of himself, a part that he had lost. Replacing the equipment carefully into its protective casings, Karic gave instructions for Mara and Andrai to bring any system they could back online. The more diagnostic computer power they could muster, the better. They would be in suspension for centuries before they could be rescued. It was imperative that they could rely on the systems that would keep them alive. The uplink was also crucial. Karic would need this to send his messages back to Earth.
He started to pace around the cramped cabin, getting in Mara and Andrai’s way. After a few annoyed looks in his direction, he left the cramped space and walked around the inside of the defensive shield. When would the Fountain release them? It was crucial to their plans. They had to know. Finding out meant approaching the aloof Fintil once more.
His mind made up, Karic left the protective enclosure and went looking for the Fountain. He saw his silhouette against the crude structure of the bier, and walked slowly across the darkened clearing toward him. Karic had taken for granted the illumination the pod’s light had provided before. Not even the metal structure that marked the entrance to the undergr
ound cavern was visible, although it lay close by. Karic made a mental note to set up a better lighting system.
He stopped at a respectful distance, not wanting to disrupt the being from his thoughts. Moments later, the Fountain stirred. Although Karic could not see them, he knew the big, faceted eyes had turned toward him. Like a cloud of breath, the mind of the Fintil washed over him. Karic’s mind swelled to meet the Fountain’s, and in an instant they were joined.
“I trust the transport I offered did not alarm you?” sent the alien.
“No,” said Karic aloud, although his inner fears contradicted him.
“I see your race has no fondness for heights,” replied the Fountain and let the matter rest.
“I need to ask when you plan to return us to our ship. We wish to leave Cru as soon as possible.”
The Fintil’s thoughts were unreadable. The pressure on Karic’s mind grew. It was unmistakable. Once more, the Fountain was attempting to read his thoughts. Karic immediately filled his mind with schematics for the suspension equipment, mentally running through the theories behind his discovery as though delivering a lecture to a crowded auditorium.
The Fintil exhaled sharply, clearly annoyed. “It is quite impossible for now. I will not leave these three Fin until they emerge from their chrysalises.” The Fountain waved at the encased bodies of the Deepwatch and his two acolytes. “And certainly not this one …” The Fintil laid a slim golden hand on the casing of Utar’s chrysalis. Even though Utar and his people knew themselves as Imbirri, it was clear the Fountain still considered them Fin, the Fintil progeny … his children.
Silence ensued.
Uncomfortable, Karic turned his attention toward the hardened casings of the cocoons. “So these will hatch.” He was amazed at the incredible transformation they would undergo.
“Yes.” A wave of joy emanated from the Fintil, and he made no attempt to curtail it. Karic could feel the Fountain’s alien emotion and realized with a shock it differed from human joy. He was swept up by a strange alloy of awe and exhilaration, and entered a landscape with vistas of feeling he had no words to describe, yet which evoked a sense of profound belonging: the blissful acceptance of the many, and the deep joy of surrender that came with integration into a complex social fabric where all had their place. This latter sentiment was foreign to his individualistic human mind. It was but a small glimmering of the immense cultural gap between human and Fintil.
The Fountain continued. “All three of these children are very much alive.”
“How soon will they emerge?” asked Karic awkwardly.
The Fountain placed both hands on Utar’s casing, gasping in delight. “There is such life in this one!” he said, schooling his thoughts. “Soon, human. Very soon.”
The Fountain turned away from the bier and led Karic further into the dim light provided by the human’s defensive shield. As they approached, the engineer could see his crew at work inside, assessing the damage to the lander. Once at the barrier, they stopped.
The Fountain turned to Karic, fully visible now in the bluish light. Karic was struck once more by his alien nature, the strange sentience he had taken for granted since their first meeting only hours ago.
“We should not be communicating in this manner,” sent the Fintil.
“How else? It would take years to learn your language.”
“The mind-touch of an Elder race such as the Fintil is too … stimulating. We must minimize contact,” said the Fountain, and Karic sensed genuine disappointment. “You, human, have a fine mind. The thoughts of your species do not travel as fast as those of the Fintil, yet your capacity for imaginative association is astounding. I wish we could have met in better circumstances. I truly do. And I have no doubt you will become a great people if … given time.”
Karic felt the Fountain’s admiration overtaken by another, darker emotion, which was quickly hidden from him.
“I don’t know how to thank you for all your help,” sent Karic, his head filled with visions of a return to Earth.
“There is no need,” replied the Fountain, turning to go. “Now I must activate the reactors beneath the darkened node. It is time this valley was once more filled with light, and energy.”
Karic nodded and then the contact was gone. The Fintil walked swiftly through the darkness toward the entrance to the underground caverns. What was the Fintil hiding? Had his own relief, Karic wondered, at being rescued from the Awakener, at being given a chance to leave for Earth, blinded him to the Fountain’s real plans?
Karic shook his head. He knew the Fintil would deliver them safely to their ship, and let them leave for Earth unmolested — there was no way the Fintil could have lied about that while linked to him mind-to-mind. But what else could the Fountain do to undermine them, without breaking their agreement?
Karic sighed. First they had to deal with the challenges of the here and now. He was looking forward to having light around them once more — it would make their work so much easier.
***
The Awakener sat on his throne, brooding. The interlaced canopy of the Tree, the ragged wound in the crown skillfully sealed with woven reeds and grasses, arched above him. The few remaining First lay prostrate before him, their bodies illuminated by the dull yellow gleam of the braziers set around the living dome. So many First were gone now. Some had fallen in the attack on the alien craft, others had succumbed to the Changes, while others were simply missing — Utar’s two senior acolytes among them.
Instead of calming him, the familiar scent of the fragrant wood burning in the censers put him on edge. Yet another symptom of his unease. No matter what he did, how hard he tried to put the Imbirri back on course, nothing felt right anymore. Nothing.
Despite his determination to protect his people, more of the Imbirri had succumbed to the Changes.
When they had returned to the jungle to lay in wait for the humans, the Awakener had been shocked to find the encased forms of Imbirri littering the site of destruction. These were Imbirri who had fallen during his first attack on the alien’s craft — he had assumed they had been destroyed by the raging firestorm. The sight of their bodies, so far into the Changes, sent a deep fear into him. He had longed to destroy them, but feared it would alert the humans to their trap.
Others had gone missing on the march back to the village, some stumbling only a short distance from the path before falling to the forest floor. He dared not stop. Instead, he had pushed his followers to the point of exhaustion to reach their camp. As he had hoped, once within sight of the Tree, the rate of attrition slowed.
The Awakener counted each one of those fallen bodies in his mind. He vowed to return and burn every last one of them before he was finished. Yet these last acts of destruction must wait until the other aliens had been dealt with.
He shifted his bulk to the front of his throne then pushed himself to his feet.
“Rise! Rise! Gather the Imbirri together. We will share the Elixir before we set out to destroy the aliens,” said the Awakener.
He sent Utar’s five surviving acolytes to his enclosure to gather all the Deepwatch’s instruments and materials. With all the ingredients before him, the Awakener prepared the powerful mixture himself. Buoyed by new confidence, he selected Utar’s senior surviving acolyte, the gold New Bough, to become the new Deepwatch, and the four other remaining followers of Utar — all First greens — to be his new assistants. These five he made stand before him as he prepared the Elixir. “Watch and learn!” he said. “You will henceforth be the custodians of the secrets.”
The five chosen First assisted the Awakener to the best of their ability. They were inept and clumsy compared to the vanished Otla and Munch. As the leader of the Imbirri watched the new Deepwatch, he was suddenly all too aware that although solemn and attentive, and swelled with pride over his new role, New Bough could never replace his friend. The dead Utar’s powerful mind, and his ability to explore the myriad paths of the future, had been unique. The title of Deepw
atch was a hollow honor for New Bough, who although outstanding among the First, could sustain only the most rudimentary mental bond. Although he would master the Elixir’s preparation with time, he had no hope of mastering the artifacts of Cru as Utar had.
When the Elixir was ready, the Awakener and New Bough led the procession out from under the Tree. The voices of the First rose and twirled about each other in a rising harmony. Outside the enclosure, the Imbirri gathered for the ceremony. The chorus of song that greeted the Awakener was low and solemn, lacking the usual power and joy inspired by the celebration. He almost stumbled as he saw how few were left. That last time with Utar they had thousands, now … barely hundreds. Usually excited by the nearness of the mystery, and by the ritual, those who remained were unusually subdued.
As each of the huge beings came forward to take the Elixir, the Awakener grew more detached from the proceedings. For years beyond counting he had presided over his people, the powerful spirit of Utar beside him, Utar’s presence as enduring as a mountain. It seemed inconceivable he was gone. Those uncounted centuries flooded into his head like a blissful, narcotic smoke, swamping his senses. He let himself dwell in that dream for a nostalgic moment, then pushed back the past. He had to remain intent on the goal before him: the destruction of all that had no place on this world.
The ceremony finished, and the song faltered to silence.
All the Imbirri waited. The twenty-eight reds who remained were eager, their bodies rigid with tension. The violence had fuelled them like a drug. The purples, the strange obsessed purples, had all vanished. The golds hovered throughout the village, poised for his commands, yet aloof, while the hundreds of greens — the bulk of the remaining Imbirri — huddled close together, eyes dark with fear. Had he become so terrible?
All the Imbirri could sense the coming storm, and though many had no conception of the events that had taken place, all knew intuitively that their fate would soon be decided. Change, so foreign, was the invader. It walked silently through their ranks, touching each with a sickening feeling of fear — and a strange excitement so at odds with the peaceful, indolent life they had known for countless years, marked only by the passing of the annual Redwing Swarm.
The Tau Ceti Diversion Page 28