Eternity Row

by neetha Napew

  It was cold, and thick with sediment. I felt down the arm of the exposed hand, until I found the body. A male, naked except for a heavy belt studded with stones tied around the waist. As I felt along one limb, I realized he was so malnourished the body was literally nothing but skin over bones.

  I withdrew my arm and shook off the contaminated water. “Starved or drowned. He’s weighted down with rocks.”

  Xonea stood by the edge. “An execution pit?”

  The thought that this could have been deliberate made me swallow a surge of bile. “Possibly.”

  There was nothing I could do for the victim, so we continued on to Hawk’s father’s home. Fen Yillut lived near the base of a xiggurat, and emerged as soon as we stepped up to the door.

  “Greetings from HouseClan Torin,” Xonea said, making a gesture of peace. “You are Fen Yillut?”

  “Sadda has seen fit to name me thus. You are the aliens from the ship.” Fen’s expression surpassed Tadam Ortsac’s in the dour department. “Why do you violate my prayer time?”

  “They intrude on my behalf.” Hawk stepped forward.

  Fen looked him up and down. “You are?”

  “Hawk.” He cleared his throat and tried again. “Hawk Long Knife. I’m your son, Father.”

  Fen’s black eyes nearly popped out of his head. “You are Charla’s babe?”

  Hawk extended his hand. “Charla was my mother, yes.”

  “I had not thought you would have survived your weaning year.” Fen hobbled around Hawk. His obvious pain made me take a scanner out, but as soon as I lifted it, he shied away.

  “No! Do not touch me with your alien blasphemy!”

  “I’m a doctor,” I told him. ‘This is just a scanner.”

  His face wrinkled. “Such things are disgusting to us.”

  That was a reaction I’d never gotten before. “I might be able to help you feel more comfortable. It doesn’t hurt.”

  “I am Sadda’s scourge back.” Fen went back to the doorway, then paused and said to Hawk, “You may enter, Terran.”

  “My companions as well?”

  He made an irritable gesture. “If they must pollute an abode, let it be mine.”

  We had to walk into the dwelling single file. Mold grew on the inside, too, so thick that it resembled carpeting and wall coverings; but incongruously, there were very few worms around. Above the threshold was the same, horn-headed stick figure.

  There were few furnishings inside-two chairs and a table made of spindly wood. No optic emitters, only thin gray light from one window. A small hearth where a miserable little fire burned under an alloy pot on a hook. Whatever was cooking smelled as vile as everything else on the planet.

  Reever sniffed the air. “Perhaps they consume-“

  “Don’t even think about it.” I went over to the triangular window. The ziggurat loomed a foot away, effectively blocking any view of the mountains. “Fen Yillut, we saw some bodies left in a ditch of water. What happened to them?”

  “They submitted fully to Sadda’s scourge.”

  To me, scourge meant disease. “What does that mean?”

  “They gave themselves up to Sadda. It is a great honor.” He scraped a couple of worms off one of the walls and went over to dump them in the pot.

  I didn’t know whether to be nauseated over the religion or Fen’s dietary choices, but no way was I going into their churches or eating anything until we got back to the ship.

  Xonea gave the old man an incredulous look. “Your deity requires lives as tribute?”

  “Sadda requires much of the people.” Fen picked up a pail and brought it over to the rickety table. “You may drink if you are thirsty. Food is not gathered until the eleventh hour.”

  “Gathered?” I hadn’t seen any gardens, or anything but mold growing inside the city walls. “Where?”

  “We take what grows on the mountain steppes. Tifginni sustains us otherwise.” He gestured toward the ziggurat. “Gathering is not permitted until dark, after daily prayer has been satisfied.”

  Eat worms or grab what you could in the dark. No wonder the people were starving. “Surely you have some technology that could help you with food production. You couldn’t have answered our ship’s signal without a communications array.”

  “Blasphemy!” Bits of saliva flew from his mouth to frame the word.

  I thought of all the equipment we were carrying, and an ominous thought occurred to me.

  Reever put it into words. “Does the use of technology violate your religion, Fen Yillut?”

  “Of course, it does! Did you not receive instruction from the city monitors, upon your arrival?”

  We all exchanged glances.

  “They forgot to mention it,” I said.

  He hmphed. “We maintain the sky speaker only to keep Sadda’s promise.”

  I was getting sick of what Sadda wanted, required, and promised. Sadda needed to give these people a long vacation.

  “Father,” Hawk said, “why do the people hide their wings? Why do they not fly?”

  “Such frivolous activity interferes with proper prayer.” He twitched his shoulders, as if he wanted to shake the bound wings from his back. “Our ancestors abandoned all such pleasures. Now they function no longer.”

  “They’re atrophied.” I forgot to be diplomatic. “Your ancestors didn’t do you any favors, Fen.”

  That sent him into a rage. “You have never prostrated yourself on Sadda’s steps, woman! Five days there and I vow you’ll have more respect for the gods’ scourge backs!”

  “Father, please.” Hawk’s wings fluttered with agitation. “These people are my friends. They mean no disrespect. They brought me here so I could meet you.”

  Fen took an alloy ladle from the bucket and sipped some liquid, then coughed. When he could speak again, he said, “I have answered your questions. Now, go.”

  The hataali flinched, as if his father had struck him. “I had hoped to spend time with you, Father.”

  “Why?”

  “Do you not wish to know me?”

  Fen uttered what might have been a laugh. “I went to Terra to endure a suffering pilgrimage, and the water gave me brain fever. Your mother lured me into her bed. I did not wish to know her; why would I wish to know you?”

  Hawk passed a hand over his eyes. “She died for you.”

  “None die but for the glory of Sadda.”

  He might have been old, but I could have slapped him silly just then. “Have a little sensitivity, Fen. Your son’s traveled a long way to see you.”

  “I did not ask him to.” His expression turned nasty as he stared at his son. “He is not wanted here.”

  Two monitors abruptly entered Fen’s dwelling. “Fen Yillut, you have not reported for prayer.”

  All the contempt left the old man’s face. “The monitors speak the truth, as always.” He staggered over to the door. “These aliens intruded here. The winged one is son of an alien scourge I suffered. It is no excuse, only the circumstance.”

  “There is no excuse to keep from prayer.” One of the monitors took out a stick and struck Fen across the chest. It drove Hawk’s father to his knees.

  “Hey!” I lunged forward, but Hawk beat me to them.

  “Don’t you hit him!” he shouted, wrenching the stick away and tossing it across the room. His wings spread out, creating a twenty-five-foot curtain that completely blocked the thin light coming through the window. “He has done nothing wrong!”

  “You are allotted one hour of prostration on Sadda’s steps for every minute you have spent in idle conversation,” the monitor said to Fen, completely ignoring Hawk. “Brook your penance, or apply yourself to the mastering circle.”

  “Such is Sadda’s will, that I accept with joy,” Fen said.

  “Why am I not surprised?” I couldn’t help saying.

  The silent monitor pointed a thin, gnarled finger at me. “Sadda’s scourge will fall upon you, woman.”

  I showed him some teeth. �
�I’ll duck.”

  The monitors withdrew, but only retreated to the alley beside Fen’s house, and watched us through the window.

  “Why do you allow this?” Hawk demanded of his father. ‘They have no right to come in here and discipline you.”

  “Correction of sin is the gateway to enlightenment. Such is the purpose of having monitors among us.” Fen straightened his robe and limped toward the doorway. “Already I must devote eight hours of penance for dallying with you. Begone now.”

  Reever intercepted Hawk’s father and took his hand between his. “Give me a moment, so that I might understand better.”

  The Taercal and my husband stood locked in silence as Reever probed Fen’s mind. Whatever he found made him release the old man quickly and step out of his way.

  “Leave, and do not return.” Fen trudged out.

  I looked at the others. “Can we do that? Please?”

  “We need more data.” Reever went over to the bucket and drew a ladle of the liquid, which I saw was some kind of thin, white fluid. “Their water, I assume.”

  “Don’t drink any of that.” I activated my scanner and headed his way. “Remember what was in the ditch.”

  I scanned the bucket. Readings indicated a high mineral content, as well as a thirty percent diffusion of calcium.

  “It’s H20 all right, only with tons of minerals in it. No trace of microorganisms, so it’s been distilled or treated by someone. Okay, Duncan, if you want to be brave, have a drink.”

  Reever only sipped a little before dropping the ladle. “I have tasted better water from mud puddles.”

  Given his predilection for disgusting tastes, it must have been beyond repulsive. “Did you get anything from the link?”

  “His emotions were in turmoil. He feels hunger, pain, and great anger. His mind was filled with images of the ziggurat.” Duncan wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “And one other. A structure in the center of the city where archaic technology is stored. He thinks of it as the Place of Sadda’s Promise. We should go there before we return to the ship.”

  “Does he have any memories of Terra? Of the joy he knew with my mother?” Hawk asked as he took a drink from the bucket, and grimaced.

  “His memories of your mother are very clouded. I could not feel any particular emotion.”

  My Reever-radar told me he was lying, something he hardly ever did. Like the Hsktskt, he considered it beneath him. Fen must have had some horrible emotions for him to do that.

  Xonea went to the door. “The next sojourn team is due to arrive within the hour. We should meet them before they enter the city.”

  Reever nodded. “Then we should hurry.”

  The Taercals’ unpleasant environment, surly attitudes, and dismal existence didn’t bother me as much as the growing signs of infirmity I was seeing in the population. As we walked toward the center of the city, nearly every native we saw appeared almost crippled. I also caught glimpses of distorted hands and crooked limbs beneath their stained toga-robes.

  “I’ve never seen so many malnourished people,” I said as we watched a pair of adolescent males swerve to avoid us. Both limped badly. “Maybe Fen will change his mind and talk to us later. He’s elderly; he would know what’s been happening.”

  “My father is not old,” Hawk said, astonishing me. “He has only forty-two revolutions-the Taercal life span is nearly identical to a Terran’s. You can tell age by the number of short feathers, here.” He pointed to a patch of feathers on his neck. “The older one is, the more one grows.”

  Hawk had about half the short feathers his father had. All the Taercal passing us had even less. “That can’t be right, Hawk. That would mean most of these people are in their teens and twenties.”

  “This affliction the natives share-could it be a juvenile disease, carried on into adulthood?” Xonea asked.

  “Unless it’s something new, no. The last childhood diseases were eradicated by the Allied League more than a century ago.” I gnawed on my lower lip. Could the Taercal have been successfully isolating themselves that long?

  “Their environment and lifestyle is exceptionally harsh,” Duncan said. “Perhaps that is to blame for their poor health.”

  “This species evolved in this environment, and developed feathers and wings as specific adaptations to it. I doubt there have been any significant climatic changes over the last couple of centuries,” I explained, squashing that theory as flat as the worms under my feet. “As for the lack of comforts, it really isn’t any worse here than any primitive, pretech society. The rigors should actually toughen them up, make them stronger. Not create this kind of wear and tear on their bodies.”

  “They seem very underfed,” was Xonea’s comment.

  I thought of what Fen had mentioned about gathering food. “That’s something-the population could be suffering from a vitamin deficiency.” On Terra, outbreaks of scurvy and rickets among poor countries no longer occurred, but I’d seen history texts on them.

  “Cherijo.” Duncan nodded toward a young Taercal boy, who was staring at me. A heavy bundle of sticks sat on the ground beside him.

  I smiled. “Hi, there. I’m Cherijo. What’s your name?”

  My husband relayed that, and the child gave me a wary look. “Sadda has seen fit to name me Hyt.”

  “Hyt. That’s nice. On my world, we shake hands when we first meet a friend.” I held out my hand.

  The child backed away. “To touch is blasphemy.”

  “For kids or grown-ups?”

  “Both,” he said, like I was stupid.

  “Try it anyway. Come on, I won’t hurt you.” Slowly I got my fingers around his, and felt calluses covering the inner surface of his hand. Despite my gentle touch, he winced. “Does that hurt?”

  “I am blessed by the scourge,” the boy said, snatching his hand away. His gaze darted to a nearby grave-pit, and the worry lines around his mouth deepened.

  “Hyt, tell me something.” I kept my voice low and calm, hoping to instill a little confidence. “Why are there bodies in that ditch over there?”

  “They were grievously afflicted by Sadda. They chose to sacrifice themselves for the Promise.”

  Sadda be damned. “Is it because they were in pain?”

  Hyt hung his head. “The scourge becomes very hard to bear.” At the sound of passing footsteps, he jerked around. “Monitors.” With effort, he balanced the stick bundle on his back. “I must go or I will be late for prayer.”

  I waited until he limped out of sight before I folded back my sleeve and unstrapped the scanner from my arm. “He’s moderately malnourished and, believe it or not, dehydrated. With all this water around.” I scrubbed condensate off the display before checking the systemic readings. “Nonexistent white count, enlarged spleen, severe anemia, moderate to major inflammation in every joint in his body.” I saved the scans and formatted them for transmission. “I’ve seen better readings from diseased octogenarians.”

  Reever exchanged a look with Xonea. “Is it a disease?”

  “It could be, but I’m not picking up any pathogens or antinuclear antibodies. And his blood should be riddled with something, to cause these kind of symptoms. It’s as if his immune system detonated.” I transmitted the readings up to the ship, along with a note for Squilyp to see what he could make of them. “I need to get comparison stats from one of the adults. We don’t have this species on the medical database, but we can use Hawk’s physiology to help develop one.”

  Getting another scan proved much more difficult. Few of the natives came out of their homes. The older Taercal who did, refused to speak to us, and their children proved much more skittish than Hyt.

  We also passed several more of the drowning pits, which were full of bodies, and the stone blocks inside the triangular trenches. Monitors seemed to pop out of the stonework whenever we paused by the pits, so I was unable to scan for signs of disease. By the time we reached the center of the city, I had yet to get my comparison scan, but had cou
nted nearly a hundred drowned bodies.

  “This is the structure.” Duncan nodded toward a stone building that was three times the size of any of the dwellings. It also had the single, narrow doorway, but this one was flanked on either side by monitors. Horned stick figures had been carved all around the stone doorway.

  “I don’t think they’re going to just let us walk in.”

  “Hawk may be able to help.” Reever said something low in Taercal to the hataali, who nodded and arched his wings before approaching the monitors.

  “What’s he saying to them?” I asked Reever as we watched Hawk make a sweeping gesture with both arms.

  “He is telling them we wish to abandon our blasphemies and keep to Sadda’s Promise.”

  I wrapped a protective hand around the strap of my sojourn pack. “I am not leaving my gear here.”

  “You only have to pretend to do so.”

  The monitors studied us with evident suspicion, then drew back from the door. As I followed the men in, I had the feeling someone was watching us. A quick look back revealed Tadam Ortsac hovering at a discreet distance.

  “Big Bird is out there watching us,” I muttered to Xonea.

  “I will guard the entrance passage,” the Captain said. “I do not think they will wait long. You three had better hurry.”

  The interior of the storage building would have made our ship engineers weep with fury-sophisticated hardware and assorted tech had been tossed in piles, forming a sort of cluttered maze that we negotiated with some difficulty.

  “There are prep units, envirocontrol panels, energy conversion conduits-“ I was no engineer, but even I could see what they’d done. “It’s like they stripped out everything they had that was artificially powered or made of alloy, and threw it in here, to rust.”

  “Cherijo.” Reever pushed aside a terminal and stepped over an ancient housekeeping drone before lifting another unit. “Is this a diagnostic unit?”