Space Trek (Three Novels, Three Worlds, Three Journeys Book 1)

by Jo Zebedee

  'Please, brothers, sisters. There is more to be said.' Gradually, even the most distraught of his followers return to hear him. Such is the dedication to the cause. They listen, even if only perfunctorily.

  'We have encountered a great setback here today. I promise that tomorrow's sunup sermon be devoted to those that we have lost. You may think that their lives have been wasted, but nothing could be further from the truth. For we shall communicate with the gods, and soon. Their sacrifice will be honoured in the greatest way possible – in communion with the Animex! Rest assured that the gods protect them in death. It is crucial that we are not distracted from our course. We will mourn, and give thanks, and then we must move forward. Such is the only way.'

  There is no applause, no cheering, no salutation. Many, now free from their obligation to listen to the Re'Nuck, continue their frantic efforts to seek those they love and care for. Apius himself starts the weary trudge from the clearing to his own hut, keen to be alone.

  Watching the Re'Nuck go, Viarus takes it upon himself to help those still within the clearing. There is still consolation to be done.

  ***

  When he is finally alone in the clearing, Viarus lets out a heavy sigh. Except that he is not truly alone in the clearing, for frozen eyes still stare at him. He is an oasis of life in a desert of death, and he is the one that caused it all. He breaks down, falling to his knees, allowing tears to come.

  No. No, not like this.

  He tries to summon some of the courage of the Re'Nuck himself, forcing back the tears. This is not the time to mourn, or castigate. He has done nothing deliberately, he tells himself. But he knows he has a substantial task to carry out, the first stop on his road to closure, to redemption.

  He walks into Genem, ghost-like, unseen. The devastation here is to the physical landscape, the buildings fallen and damaged. But they can be fixed, unlike the dead awaiting him in the clearing.

  He drifts to the fields and grasps a crude wooden shovel in both hands.

  ***

  Viarus digs. It is all he can think of. Dig. Dig. Dig. The word becomes a rhythm in his mind, its cadence chiming each time he places the shovel in the ground and spoons out a fresh load of dirt. The mound beside him is growing in proportion. Long ago it exceeded his own height, and now towers over him menacingly. Should it collapse, he could find himself buried. The thought does not perturb him. It is only the task that matters.

  Dig. Dig. Dig.

  The pit he is working on grows deeper and deeper, and the light of sunup grows weaker and weaker around him. His body is sheened with the sweat of exertion. Once this is done, he knows he will collapse. He knows he will have nothing left. But for now he has purpose and meaning.

  Dig. Dig. Dig.

  The moons are riding high in the sky by the time he considers this task done. He does now know how he judges it to be done, but something within him says this is the time. He has left an ascent at the far end of the pit, and scrambles up the loose dirt with ease.

  This will of course be the worst. Looking into familiar faces turned cold, and unfamiliar faces he will never have the opportunity to know. They will only live within him as corpses. He grabs the first figure he can see, an unfamiliar young woman. His only relief is that her accusing eyes have now closed. Perhaps that will be the case with all the dead.

  This woman he drags to the nearest part of the pit and, heaving with all his might, throws her down the soil slope. She lands unceremoniously at the bottom.

  For just a moment he wonders if he is doing the right thing. But there is no precedent to go upon. No, he decides, this is fitting. We were brothers and sisters in religion, and so shall be brothers and sisters in death. What else is to be done? Nobody else seems to have considered what should be done with the dead. What might have happened had I not been here, Viarus wonders. The bodies could have been scavenged by wildlife! He could not allow such a thing to happen.

  Leaving the first body in its place, he moves to pull the second into its position.

  ***

  By the time the moons begin their descent towards their nadir, Viarus is delighted to have the macabre elements of his task done. He had counted the bodies as he had gone along, tried to index names as best he could. Rejulus, Awala, Niara. 76, 77, 78. So much blood on his hands. What was it that killed them, he wondered? Many had blood caked around their ears and mouths, as though something was trying to escape from them. Did he hold such a power within him?

  Grabbing his shovel again, he sets about the lonely task of refilling the pit. At least it will not take so long with so many bodies crammed within it.

  ***

  It is sunup by the time Viarus is done, and he wearily sits himself down on the silty floor. So much energy expended, so much emotion burned away. He is suddenly consumed by a hollow feeling.

  'You have done very well, old friend.' The voice startles him, but its tones are familiar.

  'I have done nothing well, Re'Nuck. All I have done is spent the entire moonrise trying to make up for my failure. Such a thing is impossible, of course, but it gives the illusion, does it not? You could believe that nothing has happened here.'

  'I would not want to believe that nothing has happened here. The past does not go away because we simply bury it.'

  'Do not use that word, Apius. I have buried too many tonight.'

  'Apius? Does my rank no longer hold water?'

  Viarus emits a long sigh. 'I apologise, Re'Nuck. It has been a difficult time.'

  'Of course. I appreciate that. And I appreciate everything you have done.'

  'Everything I have done? When we count everything I have done, it makes for poor reading!' Viarus is on his feet, stepping forward menacingly, shovel in hand. 'I have spent the last five sunups teaching a group woefully unprepared for the task at hand. My own mind carried us through a ceremony that fell apart. It was my action that brought death to so many! I have covered myself in no glory. Even laying the dead to rest cannot begin to make up for what I have done.'

  'Viarus...'

  'It is my time to talk, Re'Nuck. I was never happy with this idea, but I let you persuade me. I doubted that it could be done, but I followed you. I had faith in you. How misplaced that was! I was a misguided fool, and I allowed myself to lead a hundred or more down the same path. And what consequences... fatal consequences, Apius. I will call you that now, because I have earned that right. And already you have the audacity to speak of trying again! Do you wish to kill the remainder of your followers, wipe out our religion entirely? How many have to die for you to achieve your ends?'

  Viarus finally runs out of steam, throwing the shovel down to the floor and turning away from the Re'Nuck. Apius stands, dumbfounded, seeking some sort of reply.

  'Viarus, I would not wish for anyone to die. I am shaken to my core by what has happened. I have barely slept all moonrise, wondering if what I have done was right, whether I acted rashly.'

  'But you did it! And you would do it again! That remains the fact. I do not know if I can go through this again. Physically, mentally, morally, I think it is wrong.'

  'Are you... deserting me, Viarus?'

  'Deserting you? As you deserted me, leaving me to clean up the mess your ceremony left behind?'

  'That is not a fair accusation.'

  'You cannot deny it. And I still believe in the Animex, deeply. But I will not do this again with you.'

  'Then we shall have to do it without you.'

  'You truly insist on pursuing this path?'

  'I will pursue it to the very end.'

  Viarus approaches the Re'Nuck. Now they are merely two Noukari, standing face to face.

  'This cannot work, Apius. If you cannot see it, then you are delusional. Once you were wise, but now... now you are nothing but a fool.'

  'What do you intend to do, Viarus? Are you just going to stand there and menace me, hmm? Or do you want to go a step further? Are you going to strike me, clamber i
nto my mind and hurt me?'

  'I intend to do no such thing. But you are lucky that I have not, because the temptation is great.'

  Viarus brushes past the Re'Nuck, his ruler no more.

  The Mourning

  The mood in the Temple of the Animex is sombre, more so than it ever has been. The Re'Nuck stands at the front of the room, the altar separating him from the crowd by the smallest of margins. He is sweating, despite the chill of the morning.

  The congregation before him is the smallest that he has ever seen. Not even one-hundred people sit on the wooden pews. That would have been half the number of the religions at its largest, and many more have not turned up this sunup. This is all that is left of Animexianism, the most loyal.

  Mouth dry, he begins to speak.

  'My brothers, my sisters, I want to thank you all for coming. It is no secret to look around and see that we have lost many in the last sunup. Some of those are lost to our cause, those that have lost their belief. Some of them have been lost forever, taken from us in the cruellest of fashions. That the gods should take such a toll...'

  Apius stifles a tear, his own emotions betraying him.

  'We have all lost many dear to us. Hasbans, wefis, friends and colleagues. But we have also lost many brothers and sisters in our cause, and that is a pain I feel deeply. Our religion has been struck a great blow. But Animexianism does not end here. We are laid low, but not defeated. We may be broken, but we are unbowed. We will return, and our religion will rise to glory once again!'

  There is a muted round of applause. Apius does not have to silence it – the patter dies out quickly.

  'But that is for another sunup. Today is for us to remember all of those that we have lost. Today is about commemoration, about mourning. It is a dark day, but we must remember all of the best of those we have lost. I would like us all to take a silent moment to remember those most precious moments – the laughs that we shared, the intimacies that we held, the memories that we know shall live forever. Let us bow our heads.'

  The silence feels thick within the temple. It seems as though even everyone's breath has fallen quiet. It gives the moment a solemnity that the Re'Nuck knows is needed. He needs it as much as anyone.

  'Thank you,' he says with an echo. 'Now I would invite you to come outside with me. Viarus, one of our most loyal...' His voice catches, and the congregation looks up at him eagerly. 'You will notice that Viarus is not here today, but that is because... because he has done a wonderful thing for us. He has buried all of those we have lost, that we may build the most magnificent of memorials right here beside the temple. I do not know if he shall return. He still believes, but he feels this pain more than anyone. But through his work we have a suitable way to remind ourselves of the sacrifices made, give glory to the memories of the fallen. And as such they shall always remain part of us. They gave their lives for it, and they shall continue to follow it.'

  There is no movement from those gathered, so it is the Re'Nuck who leads them out of the temple with crisp steps. As he goes, he is glad to hear people rising from their seats, feet shuffling behind him. This is how it should be, he thinks – leaders and followers. He is not beaten yet. Once outside, he leads them all to bow in the heart of the clearing, trying not to picture the vast pile of corpses beneath him. Here he leads another moment of quiet contemplation before speaking.

  'Our memorial here shall not be a sculpture, or a building, or a piece of art. It shall be done simply, in a way that speaks to us. I would ask you all, over the next several sunups, to bring an artefact here that meant something to the lost. That way, we shall have the chance to know the fallen in a deeper way than just their name. We shall know who they were, and what their lives meant.'

  Apius is first to begin the pile, tossing his ceremonial staff onto the floor.

  'This staff has been with me since my first sermon, since the very earliest days of Animexianism, preaching in this very clearing before our temple existed. This shall serve as the centre of our monument – as they have given to me, it is only fitting I return something to them.' Apius looks longingly at the staff, knowing that any other will never be the same. But now it serves a more important role.

  'I have spoken enough. The time for words has passed. Let us depart for our own homes, and consider what honour we wish to give to those we have lost. We will return on sunup.'

  The crowd begins to drift away, and many shake the Re'Nuck's hand, or stop to stroke his back or face. Their love for him is still there, despite it all. He accepts these gestures with restraint, until he is finally alone in the clearing. There he falls to his knees, and finally allows his weakness to consume him. Through watery eyes, he watches his tears fall to the soil.

  ***

  He is interrupted by a visitor to the clearing, somebody he has not expected to see. Ameri steps tentatively up behind him, and the still-weeping Re'Nuck turns to face her.

  'What do you want, Ameri? This is a dark time for us.'

  'It would seem so. But I have already heard whispers you want to try this again.'

  'I do not want to. I have to, and I will.'

  'Your determination does you credit, Apius. Perhaps it is more than that – stubbornness.'

  'It is belief, Ameri. Something you have little understanding of.'

  'I believe in much. I believe in the honesty of my fellow man, the integrity of the Noukari, the need to do the right thing here and now.'

  'How short-sighted of you. Are you here to try and talk me out of it again?'

  'I am here to appeal to your good sense, if you have any. Just look at what this first attempt has done. How many have you mourned this very sunup? Have you even been deep into Genem, seen the impact your ceremony has wrought? So many are still fixing their homes, and so many lives have yet to be mended.'

  'And none of it shall be in vain.'

  Ameri shakes her head. 'You mean to proceed with this?'

  'I do, with the whole of my heart.'

  'Then I give you this promise with the same sincerity – we shall stop you.'

  'There is no way to do so.'

  'There is, though we do not wish it. Think carefully, Apius. You invite more hurt, more death. Accept that it is over.'

  Emptied of words, Apius simply shakes his head.

  'It is a shame. If you had directed your efforts in the right direction, you could have achieved much.'

  She trudges away from the crestfallen Re'Nuck, knowing that she must deliver on her promise if it comes to that.

  Beneath the Veil

  Life soon enough goes back to normal in Genem, at least on the surface. The signs of the damage are still there, many huts and buildings fixed with only temporary solutions. The field workers go back to their neglected land, the builders return to their constructions, the hunters return to the forests. But beneath it all, the thoughts of what has happened still linger. The workers are missing colleague in their quadrants, the building squads and hunting teams a man light. Will life ever be normal until the scars are all covered? And can they ever be wiped away for good?

  Normal is about to be redefined. Hasbans will be paired with new wefis, tasks will be reallocated, huts will be given to new citizens. Those with the most wisdom and influence will be sorely tested in trying to fix their settlement. But there are now figures with far more power. Those within the ranks of the Animexians look to their Re'Nuck, and the remainder of Genem looks to Ameri. Those lapsed from the ranks of religion look to no-one. They see little future right now.

  There is a need for structure, for guidance. The foundations of their people have been shaken to their core, and the need for repair goes far beyond the physical.

  ***

  The dreams continue for Zerial. They have been unrelenting, bombarding his imagination, filling his sleeping mind beyond capacity. They are dreams of pain, dreams of agony, dreams of violence.

  A Hiyel crouches low before him, ready to pounce. He turns to r
un but the creature launches itself at his back, hauling him to the floor, both claws and teeth rending at the sensitive flesh there...

  Viarus stands before him, a look of grim determination across his visage. Licking his lips, he reaches out to grasp Zerial's head with both hands, and then the fingers slip through the flesh into the soft matter of the brain beneath, each iota deeper bringing fresh waves of misery...

  There are hundreds of people standing before him, expressions hollow, mouths slack, eyes blank. They scream at him, scream at the top of their voices. Zerial cannot make out the words. There is only noise, noise that grows and grows until he can feel his ears bleed, a symphony in red...

  They are all there – Asha. Viarus. Apius. Olurus. Ameri. Everyone that hurt him. And they are hurting him again and again...

  ***

  The Re'Nuck has set the next Summoning for seven sunups away. The announcement brought little by way of enthusiasm, an unsurprising reaction. It is his own energy, his own belief that will have to carry things this time. Without Viarus by his side, he will have to draw upon his own psychic powers. The deaths still weigh upon him, but they also lend him focus. If they fail again, those losses will have been in vain.

  He sits silent in his hut, although his mind is busy. He reaches into his own mind, using the 'channel', as Ameri has called it, to listen in around the village. There are none speaking, or at least none seeking to speak to him. Perhaps that is for the best.

  But there is something, some sound that he can feel pushing in from the periphery. He zooms through the mental landscape of Genem, trying to locate the source of this sound. As he closes in on its heart, he realises with a moment of shock what it is.

  Screaming.

  He breaks the mental connection swiftly. He has heard cries, and shouting, too much in the last few sunups. But this is something else entirely, a sound that comes not just from the mind, but seemingly from every fibre of the being.