The Star Whorl (The Totality Cycles Book 1)

by Emanuel, Ako

  The pain in his back woke Pa-Kreceno’Tiv with a cry. The Pavtalar-induction fled before the pain, leaving him as neutral Kreceno’Tiv. It felt as if a thousand needles were dancing on his back, under his elytra-pace. He rolled up onto his hands and knees. The wing-nets under the elytra-pace were seemingly on fire, and he could not help but buzz them. The space they were in seemed too small, too confining, and he arched, straining to break them free. He helplessly listened to his own cries as every muscle in his body seemed to contract to its fullest. His deshik writhed to his distress, getting successively tighter and looser, trying to determine what would be most comfortable to him.

  “Kreceno’Tiv, we are here,” his mother’s voice sounded beside him, a balm against the pain. He felt her hands on his arms, cool against the feverish burning along all his limbs. She calmed the confused deshik. His father’s hand framed his face, and a cup was pressed to his lips. He gulped down the bitter liquid, anything to lessen the pain. A different, fiery sensation burned down his throat, settled in his stomach, and seemed to expand outward, making everything – distant. His body still strained, and a distant, terrible thirst came to him. A thin spout was put to his lips, and when he involuntarily drew on it, this time a thick, sweet, syrupy fluid flowed into his mouth. It quenched the thirst but then redoubled it, so that he gulped and gulped. The stuff filled his stomach, then seemed to flood to his madly buzzing wing-nets, making them swell. It felt as if the skin of his back would tear off from the pressure of the swelling wing-nets, but still he drank and drank.

  Then he cried out as something tore/cracked, indeed, and the pressure was alleviated. His deshik parted more around his elytra-pace to make room for the new protrusions. The spout was taken away. The needles still danced, but his muscles relaxed all at once, so that he flopped to the rest-pad on his belly. It was still distended from drinking copious amounts of the sweet fluid, but it slowly flattened as the fluid was pulled away to his humming, expanding wing-nets. Exhausted, his eyes began to close.

  “I’ll get him pardoned from Secondus for the turn,” he dimly heard his father say, concern mingled strangely with joyful pride in his voice. “His wing-nets will continue to vibrate for another half-turn, to get the fluid fully dispersed.”

  “I’ll stay with him,” Vespa Kareni’Tiv said, and her voice was warm. “My Kreceno’Tiv, you’ve reached full adulthood.” There were actually tears in her voice.

  The last thing he knew, she held his hand and patted his back beneath his open elytra-pace and still tingling wing-nets.

  Whorl Forty Six

  When he woke, he was still on his belly, and his back ached. He moaned and tried to roll over, but a cool hand on the nape of his neck discouraged him.

  “Don’t try to turn over, your wing-nets are still emergent,” Vespa Kareni’Tiv’s voice said gently.

  Kreceno’Tiv opened his eyes – or he tried, they felt gummed closed. A cool, damp cloth wiped at them, and he made no plaint – though he remembered his mother’s voice calling him an adult, he felt as weak and helpless as a mumphling.

  Eventually he was able to open one eye. He squinted at her, saw the blurry smile on her face.

  “Mother,” he tried to croak, but his mouth was crusted with something, and the side of his face seemed to be stuck to the sleep-pad.

  “My sweet Krece,” she said, and he would have jerked in surprise, if he had had the strength. She rarely used the endearment, the affectionate, personal shortening of his given name. Usually she called him Kreceno, in her more demonstrative moments. He projected an interrogative – anything else took too much effort.

  “Your elytra-pace is open,” she answered simply. But the simple answer spoke Star whorls. It meant he had reached adulthood, that he could now formally mate. His elytra-pace had split, and his wing-nets were now emergent, and yes, he could still feel them waving gently above him, causing the needle-sensations in his upper back and strain across his lower back.

  Vespa Kareni’Tiv offered him something, and he took it and ate it without tasting it. She held up another and another, and he ate until his sides ached. Then he slipped into slumber again.

  Whorl Forty Seven

  He missed most of a five-turn of instruction, recovering from the emergence of his wing-nets. When he was finally able to return to Secondus, there was a World-Tree of assignments for him to catch up on. He went out to ride the transport, feeling slightly awkward with his new, larger wing-nets and Ro-Becilo’Ran greeted him enthusiastically, turning him to see his split elytra-pace.

  “And to think, you were behind me in development!” his friend said, somewhat enviously. “Now you go emergent before the term is even half over!”

  “Well, you can’t be far behind,” Kreceno’Tiv said, patting him hard on the back.

  “Vuu-blitz, that actually hurt!” Ro-Becilo’Ran complained, rubbing his back. “I remember when you used to hit like a mumphling!”

  Kreceno’Tiv made a face, crossing his eyes and vuu’erio tennae and his friend laughed as the transport stopped for them.

  “Ho, very mature! Lead the way silver-pace!”

  Kreceno’Tiv did get on the transport first, and was delighted to see his pre-mated there.

  “Oh ha, Kreceno,” Pavtala Ralili’Bax said, looking at him appreciatively when he sat down beside her. “Your wing-nets...” Her chemi-scent glomed enough for him to retake the Pavtalar-induction.

  He fluttered them briefly at her, and she drew in a breath, her eyes getting larger. He tucked them away again, quickly – exposing one’s wing-nets too long at this age was considered lewd. Only the eldsters, whose wing-nets were silvering and no longer fit completely within their elytra-paces could be excused for partially displaying their wing-nets all the time.

  “Don’t do too much of that, or we may have to go beyond pre-mating,” she leaned close and breathed into his aur’erio. He gave a small chuckle, but she sounded semi-serious. Other girls had noticed his new sign of maturity, and one actually sighed as she gazed at him. Feeling abashed with embarrassment, he looked down. Pavtala Ralili’Bax laughed at his expression and pressed close to his side.

  “Is it so hard to admit that you are attractive?” she asked quietly, her voice serious though her eyes were bright.

  He moved his shoulders. “All right, so I’m attractive. That’s not what I want to be most admired for, though,” he said, sounding more bitter than he meant to let on. Can no one appreciate me for anything other than the external attributes I have, attractiveness, status from my famiya? Isn’t there more to appreciate beneath all that?

  Pavtala Ralili’Bax’s eyes became sympathetic, backed by understanding. “They are just silly Secondus girls,” she soothed. “Or – I should say we. I am silly, too. The difference is, I kind of know it, and I can – counter it, somewhat. You’re a little silly, too, emergent wing-nets and all, but less so than most of the rest of us.”

  “Thanks,” he said, sarcastically. “You are so comforting.”

  “What I mean is, you have depths that it will take most of us many orbises to attain. You may have bloomed a little late in body, but you bloomed very early in mind. It is one of the reasons I like you. You help me be – not-so-silly. I appreciate what you have inside.”

  “In truth?” he looked down into her eyes, and saw that she was now totally serious. There was a little bit of – something – in her face, that he could not place. And the transport reached the Secondus sub-Hives before he could puzzle it out.

  Whorl Forty Eight

  His split ‘pace seemed to cause something of a sensation in the sub’Hives of Secondus, though why it should be so, he could not guess. Girls whispered and glomed thickly when he walked by, and their eyes followed him enough that he actually noticed. Ro-Becilo’Ran, walking beside him, gestured irritable envy and grumpiness, backed by laughter. He also encountered more than one almost angry look from other males, which puzzled him more sorely than the attention of the girls. Gotra Pelani’Dun had stopped in he
r footsteps when she saw him, and her eyes had opened in that funny way again. Then her face had twisted, and she had turned in her heel and stalked away almost angrily.

  “I don’t understand,” he said, when they got to their second lecture. “It’s not that unusual that people at our age enter adulthood, why are all of them acting that way? People burst their elytra-paces all the time in Secondus, but you’d think they’d never seen such an occurrence before!” His wing-nets slipped out of his ‘pace for a moment as they buzzed in his puzzlement.

  Ro-Becilo’Ran sighed, gestured exasperation. “I tried to explain before, but you didn’t believe me. I’ll wait for you to put those things away, so those around us can concentrate.”

  Pa-Kreceno’Tiv guiltily clamped his elytra-pace shut, looked around. Many eyes were on him, but they turned away when he looked.

  This is ridiculous, he thought, as the Proctor came in, and all attention turned forward. He absorbed the lesson, then walked with his friend to the lecture he shared with Pavtala Ralili’Bax.

  “I’m the envy of every girl in our term,” she said laughingly, her eyes glinting. “I’ve got the most attractive young man in Secondus in my glome-cloud! Aren’t you overflowing with jealousy?” Her tone invited him to join in the not-so-funny joke, not funny because it appeared to be true.

  He laughed sourly, gesturing a negative. “Who’s the lucky male?” he asked, facetiously.

  “Some tall, handsome, brooding male, you wouldn’t know him,” she teased, laughing. “Totally unattainable by any other girl. I’ll point him out to you, sometime.”

  “All right, good, and when you do, I’ll be able to kick him off the edge of Algna Suprum,” he shot back.

  Her eyes sparkled with mirth, softening the whole sickening affair. “Oh ha, I’d take a Reform-reward employment to see that!”

  That made him smile as the next Proctor came in.

  Whorl Forty Nine

  The fervor over Pa-Kreceno’Tiv’s entrance into adulthood died off by the end of the five-turn, for which he was grateful. He was looking forward to spending another dark-time with his circle of friends, including Pavtala Ralili’Bax, and he barely noticed the distance that the transport crept along to reach the via-Way translation terminus. He also wanted to get back to his campaign against the OSI in the Spheres, get back to his discussion forums.

  Perhaps if I read some of what’s going on, I’ll come up with an idea to battle the OSI, he thought guiltily. Having fun with Pavtala Ralili’Bax was no excuse for neglecting his interlink community.

  Something flashed in his peripheral vision. Blinking, he looked back to where he thought he saw – whatever it was, an anomaly, something that did not belong. He engaged his vuu’erio to his secondary retinas and looked again, his eyes going semi-compound. The slow pace of the transport allowed him plenty of time to examine the area. His eyes were pulled upward – there, partway up an abandoned Industry sub-Hive that no longer housed administrative workers, was – something. The opposite of presence, the wish to not be seen, so strong that he could not see or sense the individual projecting it, but he could sense the desire of it, see the shape of the glyph. Strange, that in wanting to not be seen, the person had drawn attention to herself or himself with the wish for that anonymity. Even more intriguing, was that there was such an individual in all of Gu’Anin, where most everyone was searching for something outside of the usual to see.

  Suppression of glyphs is illegal, ever since the Unveiling, he thought, marking the place, and then sitting back before anyone noted his scrutiny. So I’ll have to think of a better way to get up there and investigate.

  “You see something, Krece?” Ro-Becilo’Ran asked, looking past him to see what he had been staring at.

  “Pretty girl,” he said shortly, leaning back and closing his eyes.

  “In truth,” his friend asked sardonically, and he could feel Ro-Becilo’Ran eying him. “I’m certain Ralili’Bax will be pleased to hear that. They’re all pretty, Krece, what were you really looking at?”

  Pa-Kreceno’Tiv raised one lid.

  “Annoying friend,” he shrugged, and did not respond to anymore of Ro-Becilo’Ran’s prodding.

  Whorl Fifty

  Pa-Kreceno’Tiv de-Nil-ized his transport and sauntered down the packed boulevard, wending his way toward his goal. He had gone home, done half of his assignments, then returned to the place he had marked in his mind, but he still had not thought up a way to sneak into the sub-Hive structure with the multitudes surrounding it. He slouched up to it, looked up casually, then began to work his way to the entrance. He had contacted Pavtala Ralili’Bax and told her that he had to check on something, and that he would tell her about it when he was done. Ro-Becilo’Ran he had fobbed off, telling his friend that he would contact him later, after he had made significant progress with his backlog assignments, and then they could go and meet up with their other friends.

  “Oh ha, why’re you going in there?” a voice called to him, and many gazes turned in his direction.

  He made a noncommittal gesture, but did not stop trying to get to the entrance. “Something to do,” he answered, not turning to the speaker.

  Looks were passed, and those around the entrance pushed inside before him, looking for what might have piqued his interest. There was a general inflow of people, all scouting around, and glyphs of light appeared, making the place bright. He went into a room and sat on a derelict piece of furniture, leaned back and relaxed. The lounge was dusty from disuse, and not a little noisome, but he forced himself to stay there, until the others’ curiosity waned again.

  “See anything?” many voices called, and there were many negatives. Some went up to the next level, overturning things and making a mess among the mess, and causing a minor ruckus. When nothing was found, a few of the curious came back to look at him, waiting, but he closed his eyes and tried not to react to the dust and smell of abandonment of the place, working out one of his assignments in his head.

  “What you come in here looking for?” an insistent voice demanded, sounding irked.

  “You might as well desist, he won’t say before he’s ready, and he’d stay like that all dark-turn if he has to,” Ro-Becilo’Ran’s familiar, irritated voice said. “Go away, all of you, you’ll see if we find anything when we come out.”

  There was grumbling and the shuffle of feet. Feeling vexed, himself, Pa-Kreceno’Tiv held his posture of repose until his friend came and plopped down next to him, raising a cloud of dust. He coughed and waved it away.

  “Thanks a whole hive, Becil,” he said irritably, clacking his elytra-pace in annoyance.

  “No thanks needed,” his friend said, jovially.

  “Why are you here?” he groused, standing and dusting himself off.

  “Same as you and all those other people, except you’re going to tell me what we’re here to find,” Ro-Becilo’Ran grinned, standing also.

  “We aren’t going to find anything, now, thanks to you,” he said, gesturing a negative. “Now a few of them are going to stay, follow us, even, and we can’t do a thing without being observed. I’m going back home.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Ro-Becilo’Ran said, hefting his carry-pack. “There was no way you were going to get in or out unobserved, anyway. So let’s go and figure out a way to get back and look at what you were going to try and sneak off to see without me.” He opened it, took out his view-glyphographic and held it up, briefly, turning around. Then he put it away.

  What in the name of the First Hive is he doing? he wondered, as he moved to the entrance. Ro-Becilo’Ran followed him, and they both exited the building, to the scrutiny of the crowds.

  “What’d you find, boy?” an oldster accosted him, blocking his path. He curled his lip, let his annoyance project clear, with a bit of a feeling of loss, insinuating that the insatiable curiosity of the masses had ruined whatever he might have found. He let the man make his own inferences from that as he pushed past, ignoring all other inquiries as
he gained the boulevard proper and activated his transport glyph. Ro-Becilo’Ran was right behind him in his own transport.

  The crowds tried to impede him, but he made the construct push them aside, gently, and finally got it moving along toward home.

  Whorl Fifty One

  “So what did you really sense back there?” Ro-Becilo’Ran said behind him. He whirled, glaring. He had not realized that Ro-Becilo’Ran had followed him all the way to his domicive. “When are you going to try to translate there?” his friend continued, unperturbed.

  “What are you doing here?” he said, angrily. “And what are you talking about? I can’t ‘translate’ anywhere, numb-pace! And it’s probably gone, now, because of all those people crowding in there!”

  Ro-Becilo’Ran waved away his ire with a negligent gesture. “Don’t try to fool me, Krece, I know you too well. You’ve been getting top marks in your Long-Travel class. I know you’re going to try to short-travel back to that building. This, I want to see – and I want to go with you.”

  “You have rocks in your ‘pace,” he growled. “Go home, Ro-Becilo’Ran, I’ll contact you in a little while!”

  Ro-Becilo’Ran shrugged, gestured reluctant compliance. “You want me to go home? Well, then, I’ll just have to inform someone with authority that something unusual was in that sub-Hive... I’m sure it will cause quite a sensation, even if whatever it was is gone. Unless...?” he smiled at the coercive nature of his own words.

  “That’s really low, Becil,” he said, dropping the pretense at anger. It had always been hard to fool Ro-Becilo’Ran.

  “Good, I was wondering when you’d realize I could vuu right through that phony anger,” his friend laughed.

  Pa-Kreceno’Tiv sighed and gestured for him to follow, went in to his domicive.

  “I’m home, Mother,” he called, “and Ro-Becilo’Ran is here, too!”