The Star Whorl (The Totality Cycles Book 1)

by Emanuel, Ako

  “Such as?” Thynnu Tikati’Pas asked, sounding intrigued.

  “The Crown,” she said, looking credulous again, “or out past the Foliants...?”

  Kreceno’Tiv unconsciously gestured a negative.

  She laughed, shaking her head. “No, in actuality, I have been to those places, but with my parents,” she admitted. “As part of the Ministry of Preservation. Mother was obliged to travel to those places, and she allowed me to go with her. I do have images.” She picked up her view-glyphographic and waved it at them. “We could – take them to an Observis, and let me show you around?”

  There were gestures of relief all around – and agreement.

  “I would like to see what’s beneath the Ground-Trees,” Thynnu Tikati’Pas said, sounding excited.

  “I also have other images, like a world-storm out in the Off-Limb ways,” Pavtala Ralili’Bax said, looking around. “And under-Limb scenes, and the actual Crown of the World-Tree.”

  “Lead on,” Thy-Lerefo’Gol said, gesturing assent.

  Pavtala Ralili’Bax bounced up, waving at all of them. Her transport glyph was already sparkling in her hand, her eyes sparkling just as brightly.

  Whorl Thirty Seven

  Groaning dramatically, Kreceno’Tiv dragged himself up and combined his transport glyph with hers. Others also stood, adding their glyphs, until a structure much like the glyph for their transport to Secondus hovered above her hand. But the seats would all be facing each other, rather than in double rows. She set the destination, and they followed her to the boulevard so that the glyph could be activated.

  She gave him a glance, and he applied Nil’Gu’vua to the multi-structure glyph. It blossomed into being, and they all crowded in, laughing and jostling each other as they took seats.

  “Someone else gets to activate it, next time,” he said, flopping into the seat that was most comfortable to him.

  “Getting sleepy, silver-wing?” Thynnu Tikati’Pas laughed, leaning against Thy-Lerefo’Gol.

  “Oh ha, yes, wake me when we get there,” he said, holding Pavtala Ralili’Bax when she leaned against him. He leaned his head back and pretended to sleep, parodying loud snores. Their friends laughed.

  “Eh, eh, he might really be asleep, someone pull one of his vuu’erio,” Thy-Lerefo’Gol said with mock concern, eliciting more laughter.

  He caught Pavtala Ralili’Bax’s hand without opening his eyes, not breaking his fake snore, brought it down to his mouth and pretended to nibble on her fingers in his pretend sleep.

  “Oh ha, don’t eat our hostess, she’s the only one with the images!” Ro-Becilo’Ran said with fake alarm.

  “Oh, but she might like it,” Ropali Galici’Bel admonished. “She has strange likes and tastes, I hear!”

  “You’ve tasted her?” Thynnu Tikati’Pas teased, opening her eyes wide, and Kreceno’Tiv could not contain a smile and a chuckle.

  “You never can be sure, can you?” Ropali Galici’Bel tossed back saucily, amid hoots and laughing gestures. “The sum of all possibilities within the All is non-zero.”

  Kreceno’Tiv stretched and waved his vuu’erio tennae, looking around as if just waking. “Oh ha, what’d I miss?” he asked ingenuously.

  “Galici’Bel was tasting Ralili’Bax at one end, while you were sampling the other,” Thy-Lerefo’Gol said, laughingly dodging a berry thrown at him.

  Kreceno’Tiv blinked at the hand he still held at the wrist, as if surprised. “Eh, eh, where’d this come from? What’ve you all been doing while I was napping?”

  “Finding out that I taste good, apparently,” Pavtala Ralili’Bax said, raising her vuu’brow. “Anyone else want a taste?” She balled up her free hand and waved it at them all.

  There was general laughter as they moved with relative speed to their destination.

  Whorl Thirty Eight

  At Pavtala Ralili’Bax’s domicive, they discovered that there was a special Observis room for viewing the images taken by the Ministry of Preservation. There were comfortable seats and blank walls. Pavtala Ralili’Bax waved them to the seats and went to an aperture in the wall, into which she set a view-glyphographic that was more complex than the kind they used for Secondus. Then she hurried over to sit next to Kreceno’Tiv.

  The walls flickered to life, and then there was a comprehensive projection that wrapped around them, complete with sound and glyph. He would have avowed that he could even sense smells, as the image taker got into a kind of transport that he had never seen, one that, presumably, was suited to go into hostile locales. The transport rose, leaving the boulevards completely, and moved laterally across the landform, heading out of the heart of the World-Tree itself. There was a time-cut, and the edge of the Algna Suprum landform came into view. Then the explorers plunged, passing super-Hives that formed beautiful patterns all along the gargantuan trunk, down and down. They went by another major spread of branches with Mji’Hives, some dark and looking unused.

  “Mother says that our World-Tree has a cross-section that rivals other worlds’ continents,” Pavtala Ralili’Bax said quietly. “I’ve never been to any other world, but continents are landmasses, surrounded by water, water that is salt. Like our marine-forms, but the water in our seas is mostly fresh and sap. And of course, we have the air-gulfs between World-Trees that the Off-Limb ways cross, but peoples of other worlds use their oceans as transport ways, whereas we have to build our ways to cross our air-gulfs. Air transports have not been used by the populace since before the fall of the Malkia.”

  There was another time-cut, presumably the long travel time down the Trunk.

  “It took us two five-turns to get to the tops of the Ground-Trees,” she said. “Even with the ancient Med-Travel translation terminuses. Those were scary, how old they were!”

  The view came back just as the Foliants of the Ground-Trees came into clear focus. The transport began to move in an erratic pattern, almost dizzying.

  “Here, we’re looking for a way to penetrate the Foliage, and avoid large air-predators,” she narrated, and there was a tremble in her voice of remembered excitement and fear. Then one of the predators came into view, and despite himself, Kreceno’Tiv jumped, tightening his hold around Pavtala Ralili’Bax.

  No wonder we went up into the World-Trees! he thought, his heart hammering.

  “Things that big should not be allowed to exist!” Ro-Becilo’Ran exclaimed, as the view jogged crazily, doing a dance of death and avoidance with the monster.

  “There are cetaceans on other worlds that don’t get as big as some of our air-predators,” Pavtala Ralili’Bax whispered. The view finally seemed to stabilize, then plunged beneath the giant leaves of the Ground-Trees. The light, already dim in the overwhelming shadow of the World-Tree, cut off completely. The view changed, becoming part false-color, part glyph. Beneath, the drone and cry of life was almost deafening. The sound in the projection reduced. A third time-cut, and then the murk swallowed even the apparent glyphs, so that secondary-retinal view had to be used to make anything out. Strange sounds, that sent primal, ancestral-memory shivers through him, seemed to bounce from all corners. He had to suppress an instinctual reaction them, and realized that he was holding Pavtala Ralili’Bax too tight, but she did not protest.

  “This was the scariest part,” she said, shivering against him. “I never watch this by myself. Here, the predators and all other life see only in glyphs. They don’t even have primary retinas. Light never comes here. There is no way to hide, not even with a veiling glyph, because they can see the glyph for the veil!”

  The glyphic-view was phantasmal, as if the things that moved were themselves translucent or transparent. Then the transport shone lights, dim lights that seemed to blast away the darkness, and everything scattered, leaving only the environ to be seen. The projection had cut off scent-glyphs, for which Kreceno’Tiv was grateful, for though it was not true smelling, the glyphs themselves were enough of a hint to know that they were not pleasant.

  “There is a c
ombination of what is called swamp and loam down between the Roots,” she said, pointing to structures that rivaled the Limbs for size, but were humped and misshapen, whereas the Limbs were mostly straight and parallel to the horizon. “It is estimated that the Roots of the World-Trees take up seventy-nine percent of our World’s surface, and actually provides nutrients to the soil, as opposed to extracting them. How, we are not quite sure, but we think it is a form of photosynthesis. There are fungi-forms and gargantuan molds and lichens that we have not even begun to categorize, much less name, down here. Light was our best defense against inimical beasts. Some even died, when exposed to light.”

  She fell silent as they watched the projected tour of the artificially lit underworld. Glimpses and flashes of dark-terror creatures fled before them. A few died, as she had said, actually scorching in the weak light. Some of the vegetation died, also, but most just shrank away. The unbelievably sized roots were like Ground-Trees in themselves, and the trunks of the Ground-Trees sometimes seemed slender by comparison. There were so many things that were beyond explanation, that soon, Kreceno’Tiv was numb, with experiential overload. And just when he thought he could not take in much more, the viewing ended.

  Whorl Thirty Nine

  The lights came up gradually, and he had to shake himself and lessen his grip on Pavtala Ralili’Bax. It felt as if some part of his mind had regressed to a pre-herstoric era, a time in which his ancestors had not ascended the World-Trees, and had had to fight such horrors. He had to blink several times to disengage his vuu’erio tennae from his secondary retinas – using both primary and secondary together had given him a headache, and his eyes felt strained. Only slowly did his thoughts return from that primal state.

  “That was...” Ropali Galici’Bel was also blinking, and shaking her head. She was shaking a little, and huddled against Ro-Becilo’Ran. “By the Ancient Hives, why aren’t such things like this being shown? That has to be as good as visiting the Bustani!”

  Pavtala Ralili’Bax gestured a regretful negative. “Can you imagine what would happen if the populace knew what might be down there, in the present state of things? With the languor plaguing the population, people would throw caution and aeons of instinctive fear to the air-gulfs, and try to scale down to see these environs for themselves! No, no!”

  Thy-Lerefo’Gol concurred. “Oh ha, you’re right. It would be like mass suicide. No, better to not pique their curiosity. The Bustani is a controlled setting, with minimal risk. There would be no way to contain or restrain our people from rushing vuu’erio first down into the depths, looking for thrills. I completely understand.”

  “Ho ho, you are wrong, not even a Reform-reward would entice me to go down there!” Thynnu Tikati’Pas said, shuddering. “By the Hives above, what monsters! To think, they are down there all the time! Now we know why we live up here!”

  “So,” Pavtala Ralili’Bax said brightly, bouncing up to her feet, “who’s hungry?”

  There was laughter and groans at her question.

  Whorl Forty

  The virtual adventure had taken longer than they realized, and by the time they had eaten, it was time to go home, as they had to attend Secondus the next turn. Pavtala Ralili’Bax squeezed him hard as he took his leave of her, and he hugged her back. It had been fun, more fun than he remembered having in a long time. The dark-time at her domicive had been relaxed, jovial, with none of the impending sexual tension that he had felt with Polista Zyledi’Kil.

  Well, maybe not none, per say, he corrected himself. She was attractive, and he was attracted to her, but things had not gotten serious in the least, and he had been able to be himself and enjoy the company without her commanding all his attention. Not that I mind the other type of interaction, but this was a change. It was – different.

  “You like her,” Ro-Becilo’Ran said, a smirk in his voice.

  “Ohh, your powers of observation astound me,” Kreceno’Tiv said, not making his voice too sharp. “Did you have to use your secondary retinas to figure that out?”

  “No,” Ro-Becilo’Ran chuckled. “It’s obvious to simple sight. I just mean – she’s good for you. Easy, fun. Not ‘pacing to pre-mate.” His suggestive glance spoke of Kreceno’Tiv not wearing Pavtala Ralili’Bax’s colors.

  “She is fun.” He felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “But I’m not using her like that, Becil, you know that.”

  “Oh, I know. She wants to... Krece, my friend, people move around you, and you sip at their lives like fine nectar. It’s like you’re a force that we can either move with or just get out of the way of. She’s moving to your flow. Almost like...”

  He did not finish the statement, but Kreceno’Tiv knew what he was going to say, the impression glyph he projected was clear enough. Like the Malkia-mothers. It was not really an insult, or a compliment, but a little of both. The Malkia had been like primal forces, moving whole populaces to their will by glome alone. Some had been kind, but a few, the most infamous, had been cruel, tarnishing the Malkia Genii.

  I’m like a Malkia? he thought derisively, wanting to snort. Nothing like, or even close! I am not a girl or a woman, I can’t glome! And I have no way of putting out the pheromones of dominion that they did!

  “You have rocks in your ‘pace,” he said, gesturing denial. He leaned back, tucking in his vuu’erio. “I’m just like any other male, any other person, scrambling for something to do, hoping to get into Tertius. Especially since the OSI was announced. Malkia, sure. A force, that people have to move with, or get out of the way of.” He did a nasal mimic of his friend.

  “Fine, don’t believe me. But I know what I see.” Ro-Becilo’Ran flicked a vuu’erio tennae at him. “I know you better than anyone. When Gotra Pelani’Dun had had you in her glome-cloud, she had been special, sparkling. But it wasn’t her, it was you, loving her, that did it. When she gave you up, she lost that special something, and she knows it. That’s one of the reasons she wants you back. And when you’re down and sad, all of the girls around you want to perk you up, want to soothe you. Males like you don’t come along often, Krece. When you mourn, the world mourns with you. When you hurt, the world rallies to heal you. And when you shine, the light-turn sun-glow on the undersides of the landmasses are all the brighter because of it.”

  Kreceno’Tiv sat forward and stared at Ro-Becilo’Ran, but his friend had leaned back and closed his eyes.

  What nonsense is this? he wanted to demand, wanted to shake his friend. Ro-Becilo’Ran had spoken with perfect seriousness, not mocking in the least. It’s not true. I’m nothing like that. You’re just exaggerating!

  “Thy-Lerefo’Gol wishes he were like that, but he isn’t,” Ro-Becilo’Ran said, without opening his eyes. “He’s jealous of you. I know better, and I just hang around you because of the glimmer of a glitter it gives me.” He laughed and opened his eyes. “No, seriously, I envy you, too, numb-pace, but I know when I’m in the presence of my betters. I just sit back and watch the spectacle unfold.”

  Kreceno’Tiv felt a thick, slimy numbness move through his chest and settle in his gut. He could not think of a single thing to say, but fortunately, they arrived at their domicives.

  Whorl Forty One

  Kreceno’Tiv’s friends could not stop talking about the things they had seen in the Observis, though they did so in the privacy of Pavtala Ralili’Bax’s domicive.

  “It was incredible!” Thy-Lerefo’Gol still enthused, several turns later, projecting glyph-images of what he remembered. “I still can’t get some of those creatures out of my head!”

  “It was terrifying,” Thynnu Tikati’Pas averred, shuddering at his images and flicking her vuu’erio at them. Her elytra-pace clacked in slight agitation. “I still don’t want to think that such things exist below us! And only the light of the Guhan Sun to stave them off!”

  “What keeps the air-predators from getting this high?” Ropali Galici’Bel asked, looking around. “We have not had one come to the landforms here at the Junction in rec
orded herstory. Surely one would reach this high?”

  Pavtala Ralili’Bax looked around as if she were about to share a dangerous secret.

  “It is – some say that the herstorical records imply that – that the Malkia did something to the glyph of Gu’Anin,” she said in a low voice, “something that made the mid and upper reaches of the World-Trees inviolate to the air-predators.”

  They looked around, and then Ro-Becilo’Ran burst into laughter. “That’s ridiculous! No one has that kind of Nil’Gu’ua ability! There must be some other explanation.”

  “I’m just telling you what the Herstorians surmise,” Pavtala Ralili’Bax said, making a noncommittal gesture.

  “Well, where are you taking us this turn?” Thynnu Tikati’Pas asked, her eyes shining.

  Pavtala Ralili’Bax laughed, gesturing a negative. “Oh ha, no, no, I do not share out my treasures so wantonly! They must be spread out, properly savored, discussed until they make no sense anymore, or else we will over-consume on them and become bored, and find ourselves back in the line to the Bustani! Plus, there is more imaging, more fantastical things to see, down among the Roots. We spent five-turns down there, and came near to getting eaten many a time!”

  “Well, then, don’t keep us clapping our ‘paces, bring on the horrors of the Roots!” Ropali Galici’Bel said, leaning forward eagerly.

  Whorl Forty Two

  Pavtala Ralili’Bax was fun, endlessly inventive. During the term-break a third of the way through, she kept them well entertained. She had unusual ideas, and led them all over An’Siija, and indeed the entire landform of Segela Miridum, while actively avoiding the lines at the Bustani or the packed gregaris parks of Algna Suprum. She somehow got into the Totality cuisine library of glyphs and they spent a few merry turns disgusting and delighting themselves with exotic feasts in deserted places that the populace did not frequent anymore. She led them to the hanging Mji’Hives that resided on ancient Foliants, speaking knowledgeably about the herstories of each, bringing to life the tribulations of the people who had first built the domicives there, and they gazed down at the misty depths below, imagining all the dangers that their antecedents had fled, up into the protective arms of the World-Trees. They even trekked to an Air-Gulf Mji’Hive, adrenaline surging as they translated over the almost unimaginably wide spaces between World-Trees to a city located in the middle, supported by glyph-Ways alone. Being out under the Guhan Sun, and with no supporting Trunk below, had been nerve-wrangling, and Ropali Galici’Bel had hung onto Ro-Becilo’Ran the entire way. And though these same activities were open to almost everyone, it was Pavtala Ralili’Bax’s knowledge and running commentary that made it new and interesting, and held off the ennui. The diversions also kept him distracted from his dilemma over the Occupation and Service Initiative, and what could be done about it.