by Eric Vall
The drums were all around us now, and I lost my sense of direction, but the Almort continued to step aside as we walked, and I just followed the empty spaces they left in their wake.
Then, suddenly, the crowd disappeared, and the land opened up before us, a near perfect circle of trampled down grass about thirty meters in diameter. It was from here that the drums emanated, a cluster of about a dozen Almort ringed around the far edges of the circle, X’ebril batons in their webbed hands as they beat at the drums again and again and again. The music felt alive somehow, hypnotic almost, and I followed it to the middle of the circle.
The moment I stepped dead-center, the drums ceased, and the last notes dissipated through the air so quickly it was like the pulsing tempo had never existed in the first place. Even the Almort seemed to have gone silent, and the only noise left was the rustle of the wind through the dry grass.
My pulse thundered in my ears, twice as loud now in the silence, and it felt like the whole planet held its breath.
A hushed moment passed, then two, as the crowd parted once more, and Chief U’eh stepped forward into the circle, flanked by Sef’sla on the left side and Cy’lass and Slal’ops on the right. The chief and Sef’sla still wore their formal garments from the feast, but the prince and advisor had changed back into their normal outfits of straps and utility belts. The two males also refused to meet my eye. Slal’ops stared at the ground between us, and Cy’lass had his gaze trained on the back of his father’s head. The prince looked almost angry, and the animosity between him and his father made me a tad apprehensive.
As the group of Almort stepped forward, Sef’sla caught my eye, and when our gazes met, memories of smoke and flame sparked in the back of my mind. There was something... some memory of importance that tugged at me as I stared into the princess’s intense blue eyes, but before I could fully grasp it, U’eh let out a single, piercing cry that echoed across the plains and caused my heartbeat to gallop in my ears.
I swallowed past my suddenly dry throat and squared my stance as U’eh lifted his hands and began to speak.
“In the early days of our people,” the chief of the Almort began, his voice sonorous and deep, “we shared the wild with many beasts, and as often as we hunted to provide for our mates and our offspring, we too were hunted in return.”
U’eh’s face was grave, more solemn and serious than I had ever seen it, and it wasn’t like he had a penchant for smiles. There was a heavy air of ceremony to his words, of tradition, more so than when he had spoken to his people around the bonfire. Perhaps it was because these weren’t all his people, at least not directly. I remembered Cy’lass mentioning other tribes and in the multitudes gathered here, I had seen several styles of clothing, fabrics in swampy brown and greens and in the dry, sandy hues of the desert.
I realized this was a performance as much as it was a trial. I didn’t know yet if that helped or hindered me.
“Today, we have our warriors to protect us and our technology, and with these protections and advances, we have constructed the great cities of our people.”
Here, U’eh paused and gestured westward toward the shadows and lights of Ka’le, to the tower that pierced the sky, wreathed in a blue-green glow. The chief of the Almort turned back to his masses, but his eyes slid straight to mine, and the fire within those flat, dark eyes rooted me to the spot.
“Now, we are safe from the wild and from the creatures that roam the land and the sea. But now these starmen have come, and they look to take our home from us! They look to be our masters and bend us to their will!” U’eh cried, and as he raised his voice, the Almort hissed and clicked as one. The whole field thrummed with anger and flaring lights as the Almort stomped in displeasure.
A drop of sweat beaded along my hairline and slid down my temple before it skated off my skin. I felt more than saw hundreds of flat blue eyes turn on me, and I surreptitiously cast half a glance behind me to make sure Neka and Akela were close by. They stood barely a meter behind me, but I could see Neka shift nervously, her tail a flickering shadow in my peripherals.
I wished U’eh would hurry up to the part where he explained that it wasn’t me trying to do this, but rather Terra-Nebula and Nova-Sol.
The chief raised his arms once more and with another harsh cry, and a flare of his gills and facial scales, the crowd subsided into quiet again, but it was now an agitated hush instead of an anticipatory one.
“We have refused the starmen twice now,” U’eh continued, “but they have not listened, and they will not listen. We have been told it is not their way.”
As he said the last part, U’eh gestured to me with an outstretched hand, palm facing upward. It somehow felt more accusatory than if he had pointed at me. His eyes had not left my face as he spoke, and I watched as he blinked his two sets of eyelids and flared his gills again.
“A starman of a different tribe has come to us now.” The Almort began to hiss again, but U’eh held up a hand to calm them, and then he motioned to Cy’lass and Slal’ops, who stepped forward with their heads inclined. “He has saved my son and advisor from the terrible Opalks. He has warned us of the starmen that mean to steal our home. And now, he wishes to make a deal with us.”
Again, he paused, and I felt the crowd take a breath before he proceeded.
“However, in accordance with our laws, he must prove himself worthy before we enter any agreement, yes?”
He shouted the last word as a question, a call, and the Almort answered. They stomped their feet as one, and the ground shook beneath us. Simultaneously, they let out a series of coordinated clicks, and the rhythm sounded eerily similar to the drums from before.
It took me a moment to realize that their clicks were so synchronized and so crisp, they were registering as one repeated word to my translator.
“Akornath,” they chanted. “A-kor-nath. A-kor-nath. A-kor-nath.”
My heart felt like it was going to leap out of my chest at this point. I focused on keeping my face neutral and hoped the Almort couldn’t smell, or otherwise sense, the fear beginning to thread through my veins.
U’eh waited until the crowd died down again before he stepped forward and, this time, he actually did point at me.
“Starman Cccccolby Tower,” he intoned, “you have agreed to the rite of the Akornath, a tradition only our strongest and bravest undertake. Not all who begin the trials survive to the end. Do you still wish to proceed?”
He was giving me an out it seemed. One last chance to change my mind, hop back on the Lacuna Noctis, put Proxima V in our rearview mirror... and let Terra-Nebula or Nova Sol destroy this planet.
I didn’t even consider it.
“I wish to proceed,” I affirmed, my voice clear and strong as it echoed around us.
U’eh nodded his head, and I thought that was respect I saw in the sharp scales that lined his face. Beside him, Cy’lass looked straight past me, his shoulders taut with some inner conflict. In contrast, on U’eh’s other side, Sef’sla grinned at me, fierce and bright and other-worldly beautiful
“Very well,” the chief of the Almort declared. “Starman Colby, this shall be your first trial in the Akornath.”
He swept his arm to the east, away from Ka’le, and the crowd parted under the wave of his hand. Hundreds of Almort shifted to the right and left as if in sync, and a moment later there was an open swath of land that led out of the circle, away from the crowd and kept going to the plains beyond. Further in the east, kilometers away and near the horizon, the plains seemed to give way to hill country, the gentle slopes covered in the same meters long grasses that swayed across the plains in patches of blues and greens and purples.
I turned back to U’eh as he continued, “You must go into the wilderness starman, and you must find a beast that once was a nightmare to our people. It is called the Malog.”
A red flag went off in my brain, and a torrent of memories from the last day or so flooded my thoughts. Malog. Malog! Where had I heard that? I couldn’t s
ift through all the raw data, however, because U’eh barely paused for breath before he went on.
“The Malog reside to the east, near the hills along the horizon. You will know them by their mane of scales, which flare with light when the Malog feel threatened and when they mate. Your task is to find a Malog, slay it, and bring it back to Ka’le,” U’eh proclaimed. “In doing so, you shall prove your strength, your skill, but most of all, your commitment to aiding the Almort. You have asked that we treat with you for the sake of our home. In return, we ask that you prove you can provide for our people.”
Before I could even process any of that, the chief turned to his son and advisor, who had stepped forward with what appeared to be weapons in their hands. Slal’ops carried a dagger about a half meter long, and Cy’lass hefted a spear about three meters in length. Both of the blades were made of X’ebril, their edges honed silver-bright. The shaft of the spear, and hilt of the dagger seemed to be wood-X’ebril composites and were dark, ashy gray.
U’eh nodded at his son, and Cy’lass took the dagger from Slal’ops before he turned and crossed the fifteen meters of flattened grass between us. His face was stiff and unreadable as he presented the blades to me, balanced on his upwards facing palms, but as I wrapped my fingers around the spear first and then the knife, the prince held on to the latter for a moment too long. I looked up into his eyes, the familiar scent of salt and the sea enveloping me, and as I did, he flared the scales on his face.
The move was slow and deliberate and he held my gaze long enough that I knew he was trying to make a point.
He was trying to tell me something.
I felt my eyes go wide as I remembered all the intense looks the prince had cast me as we toured the city, all the weirdness and awkwardly relayed information. Cy’lass has been trying to warn me.
He had been trying to help me.
The prince of the Almort drew away quickly after his moment of hesitation. I didn’t know if he saw the realization in my eyes, but I did know that whatever clues he had given me that were now whirling around the chaotic eddy of my thoughts were against the rules of his people and the wishes of his father. The son of the chief had stuck his neck out for me.
I just hoped I made sure it wasn’t in vain.
With the spear and knife in hand, I turned to face U’eh fully once more, my chin held high, my face hopefully placid enough to mask the maelstrom happening behind my eyes.
The Almort chief appraised me with his dark blue eyes. “So begins your trial, Cccolby Tower,” he intoned solemnly as he gestured to the east one last time. Then he tipped back his head and let out another undulating trill, which his people echoed one after another until the whole host was crying out to the twilight sky, their faces a kaleidoscope of light and color. The drums began again as well, but lower, deeper, a resonant bass that acted as the undercurrent to the Almort’s rising and falling voices.
I looked over my shoulder for Neka and Akela and found the two women barely a meter away. Neka had her tail wrapped around Akela’s wrist, and her ears were flat against her head. The mechanic looked equally grim, her mouth a pursed line, her amethyst eyes bright and sharp. When they caught my eye, however, they both seemed to rally, Neka first, my sweet cat girl. I watched as she took a deep breath and forced an encouraging smile on her face. Akela’s smile was a little weaker, but she nodded to me all the same, and the look in her eye said ‘Don’t fuck this up.’
For just a moment I wished I could speak to them one last time, but I knew it was just trepidation. We had said all we needed to say. I gave my crew one last smile, as bright and confident as I could manage, and then I shoved away all the half-formed thoughts of how soft Neka’s hair was and the shape of Akela’s mouth. I locked all those musings in a box and shoved them down deep into the back of my brain. And, from the same dark reaches, I pulled up another box, this one full of memories and a skill set I thought I left behind on the dirty streets of Proto.
I might be new to this planet, and I might not know all the intricacies of its ecosystem or natives species, but I did know one thing, and I knew it well.
I knew how to survive.
And I would prove it to these people, to the Almort, to Chief U’eh and his pride and Cy’lass and his worry.
I’d prove I was worthy of this damn Akornath and why I, not Arden fucking Warrick, was the best broker in all the galaxies.
I took a deep, fortifying breath, made sure I had a firm grip on my weapons and then, with the drums and the Almort choir singing me out, I threw back my shoulders and strode out to the east, away from the crowd, away from Ka’le, and into the wild.
And it quickly did turn wild.
I had walked maybe a few hundred meters before the grasslands seemed to envelop me. I could still hear the Almort chanting behind me, could hear the faint reverberations of the drums, but I could no longer feel them. The grass seemed to mute and absorb the sound and the vibrations, and the isolated hush felt jarring after so much noise and commotion.
I glanced back at Ka’le but realized I had come much farther than I thought. The city was a kilometer away already if not more. The buildings were no more than a smudged line, and the crowd that gathered along its outskirts was no longer distinguishable from the grass, everything shadow and brief, flickering lights.
Speaking of those lights...
“Hey, Omni,” I whispered as I kept walking, the spear in my left hand and the dagger in my right.
“I’m here Colby,” the AI responded in my ear, but his voice was hollow and thin sounding. I was moving further and further away from this ship, and for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what Akela had said the range was on these modified comms. I decided to stop walking for the time being while I talked to the AI. U’eh never said there was a time limit on this trial, and it’s not like it was getting darker any time soon.
“Right,” I said quietly. “Does that offer to help me still stand? Because I could sure use some of your data banks.”
“Of course, Colby,” Omni responded. “But why are you whispering? There is no one around.”
I blinked. “Oh, well, I don’t know. I assumed one has to be quiet while hunting, right?”
“Yes, but according to what U’eh said, I do not believe the Malog reside so close to their city,” the AI dictated.
“Good to know,” I replied, but Omni’s words niggled the thought that Cy’lass had pulled and tugged at earlier. “Hey, you still record all of our conversations via the coms, right?”
“Yes,” the AI confirmed. “Per Terra-Nebula regulations, but I thought it a prudent practice to maintain.”
I sighed in relief. “You’re really working overtime for that sleeve, bud.” I chuckled. “But thank you for the foresight. I need some playback.”
“Okay. On what specifically?”
I clenched my eyes shut, took a deep breath, and tried to draw the memories forward. “Some conversations I had with Cy’lass. Maybe even his sister Sef’sla, too. Yesterday, I noticed these weird instances with the Almort prince. I didn’t piece it all together until just now when he handed me the spear, but I am positive he was trying to warn me and give me clues for this trial.”
“Clues on how to kill this Malog creature?” the AI questioned.
“Yes!” I gasped and snapped open my eyes. Hearing the name again had kicked something loose. “Yes, I’ve heard that name before. Cy’lass said it to me during the tour yesterday.” I wracked my brain. “I think it was during lunch? No, at the refinery. It could have been both. Fuck, I just can’t remember the specifics. Can you run a search on the recorded files for mentions of the word ‘Malog?’”
There was a hum of static in my ear, and then Omni replied, “Currently searching.” The AI paused for a moment, and then just had to add, “You know, Colby, if you did not imbibe copious amounts of mind-altering libations, you might be able to remember all these details on your own.”
I rolled my eyes at his teasing. “Thank you for the a
dvice, O. I’ll take it under consideration the next time I’m offered the juice of a great, alien sea monster. Are you done searching yet?”
There was a whirl of static in my ear, Omni’s version of a huff. He didn’t respond for a few moments, but then he said, “I have found two instances of the word ‘Malog’ in your recorded conversations, both uttered by Cy’lass, and you were correct. He said it once at the marketplace and once at the refinery. Would you like me to replay them for you?”
I narrowed my eyes as the gears finally started to catch and turn in my brain. “Wait, give me a second.” The information Omni had just relayed to me was bringing the memories into focus. I now had context for them and with context, the image of the prince became clearer, as did his words.
“At the marketplace, he mentioned the Malog while we ate. He said... he said there hadn’t been some for sale in a while because... because they were difficult to kill. Wow, how did I miss that? He basically beat me over the head with that clue,” I grumbled, embarrassed that I had missed something so blatant.
“To err is human,” Omni said, but he sounded more than a little smug while he did so. “But my processor and memory storage are larger than yours so you shouldn’t feel too badly.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes again and instead focused on walking through the details Cy’lass had surreptitiously slid me.
“Okay, so they’re difficult to kill. Great. Check. But why?” I mused as I transferred the dagger into the hand that also held the spear and scratched at my head. I snapped my fingers as it came to me. “Because they’re fast! And they’re good at camouflage and they have armor along their shoulders and sides. It’s all coming back to me now.”
I mentally patted myself on the back. Way to go me.
“See? You remembered that all by yourself, Colby,” Omni chimed. “What do you even need me for?”