And sharing one of my father’s memories will do that?
Yes. It is his memory of how he came to learn about the Chih.
Okay. If you say so.
Are you prepared?
As ready as I’ll ever be, Eli replied, completely unsure of whether that was the truth.
The ranger felt a tickling sensation pass through his body, and with a mental shrug of resignation, he gave himself over to his father’s memory.
* * *
Grant stared at the three Waa before him. It seemed important to the aliens that he understand their relationship with the Minith, so he consented to their request. He took a deep breath and relaxed, giving himself over to the notion of receiving their mental message.
The story being communicated by the tiny green aliens started slowly. Like a child listening to a bedtime story, he relaxed and listened.
The nature of the Waa is to serve.
Like a human is compelled to breathe, the Waa are obliged to serve those whose minds they cannot read. Grant felt the compulsion as a Waa would—as an extension of his self and from the core of his being. He absorbed the aliens’ projected thoughts and emotions so fully that he could not deny the truth of what was being conveyed. The obligation to serve is stronger than a need, more compelling than a simple desire.
The ability to serve is sanity, health, and . . . life.
For millions of years—longer than their collective memories could recall—the requirement to serve was achieved through devout attendance to a species called the Chih. As far as sentient species go, the Chih were at the lower end of the Waa scale used to define intelligence. They were a “two.” Despite the low rating, the Chih possessed a hidden mind and filled the need, so they were captured, tamed, and absorbed into the Waa culture. Once absorbed, the Waa met every desire and request of the Chih. These needs were simple, the requests were few: food, a warm place to sleep, affection. All were given upon request, and the Waa compulsion to serve was accomplished.
To humans, the Chih might be considered pets. They were small, furry, six-legged creatures that posed no threat to the Waa. They were easily pleased and coexisted well with their hosts. But to the Waa, they were more than pets. They were necessary companions who filled a crucial need for servitude, which kept the Waa healthy.
It was during this period—known as the Time of Chih—that the majority of cultural advances took place for the Waa. The symbiotic relationship advanced thinking and research in all areas of Waa life, including architecture, art, philosophy, and science.
One byproduct of the Time of Chih was space travel.
The consideration, research, and ultimate realization of interstellar travel occurred in a relatively short period. In human terms, the time that passed between when the Waa first considered the possibility of traveling to distant worlds and when they actually made it a reality was less than forty years. When space travel was first developed, it was an intriguing experiment and little more. Agsel, which is required for interstellar travel, was in limited supply on Waa and was quickly expended building a pair of rudimentary ships. Those initial ships were much smaller than the motherships that would eventually be produced for the Minith.
Because their supply of agsel was depleted, one of the initial goals of the Waa space effort was to locate and obtain additional deposits of the ore. It did not take long to find Telgora. The planet was quickly identified as the largest source of agsel within the nearest solar systems, and the Waa started making plans.
The Waa were not desperate for the ore, so they took time studying the planet and its inhabitants. The primary species were sentient underground dwellers that lived within the slim strip of ground around the planet’s center. Because they lived underground, the Waa could not easily determine if they were dangerous or amenable to an unannounced visit from the sky. As a result, the Waa determined that a low-level pass over the caves was needed. It was during that pass that the “oneness” aboard the Waa vessel and the “mass mind” of the Telgorans intersected for the first time. It was immediate recognition and acceptance for both groups. The Waa did not land but conveyed their desire to establish mines on the planet. After a yearlong wait, the Telgorans reached shiale, and a trade pact was formed. For the next two hundred years, the two races traded. They each prospered and quickly became trusted friends and partners.
During this period, the Waa greatly improved their ships, using the superior agsel from Telgora. They made significant upgrades to their drive designs, ship controls, and guidance systems. Each improvement allowed the Waa, along with an accompanying contingent of Chih, to travel farther from their home planet. They met other races and began trading the knowledge of space travel, along with shipments of agsel ore, to planets in exchange for scientific discoveries and knowledge that they felt could improve their existence on Waa. Their ability to understand others’ thoughts and motivations, without a reciprocal understanding, aided them immensely. When they encountered a race they felt was not amenable to a visit, or that was not sufficiently advanced to offer them anything of value, they noted the data in their growing information base and moved on to the next planet.
They instinctively traveled toward the center of the galaxy, where the stars and worlds were more plentiful. There was no need to travel outward, toward the fringe.
Until the Chih got sick.
The Waa were very conscious of the possibility of picking up disease, germs, and unfamiliar bacteria on each planet they visited. As a defense against these hazards, they developed complex, detailed methods of screening for potential hazards, and followed them without fail. Despite their precautions, the Chih fell ill. The Waa were never certain which world delivered the illness to the Chih. Not that it really mattered. What mattered was that the disease was contracted by a ship-bound Chih and returned to the entire species on Waa.
Within six months of first contraction, the last Chih fell dead.
The Waa were devastated. Their “oneness,” always a source of communal healing and health, quickly became a tumor. They had no one to serve. The companions they had absorbed into their lives—the furry little creatures they had grown to love and that were crucial to their very health—were gone. When the “oneness” feels pain, there is no escaping it, even for a moment.
The Waa struggled to regroup. They knew the death of the Chih meant the slow deterioration of their mental health and physical wellness. Unless they found another species to serve, they would eventually cease to function. They immediately redirected all of their space-born efforts to finding that other race.
The search proved difficult. Through the course of their prior travels, they had never run across any species whose thoughts they could not understand—a species they could devote their lives to attending. Until now, it was an interesting but inconsequential side note, an important fact only because it gave them an advantage in trade negotiations. But now it took on a special significance. If they were to survive, they had to replace the Chih with another species whose minds were closed to them.
Eventually, they turned their attention outward, to the fringes. And their travels took them to Earth.
Unlike most worlds, which possessed a limited number of species, Earth offered thousands and thousands. This was both good and bad. With so many species on the planet, there was a good chance of finding one or more who would meet the requirement of the closed mind. Unfortunately, the Waa could not determine this from the comfort of space. There were so many thoughts intruding into the “oneness” from so many different species, it was impossible to determine which thoughts belonged to which species—with one exception. The Waa could easily read the thoughts of the planet's dominant species, humans.
With a sense of optimism—and a desire to avoid humans—the Waa began capturing and testing as many Earth species as possible. In most instances, the species were obtained with little trouble. In the deserts, oceans, and uninhabited regions of the world, they sent in smaller ships—vessels designed for stealt
h and speed—to catch, test, and release hundreds of species. The instances of being observed by humans were rare, but they did occur. On these occasions, the humans were always captured and tested as a control to see if their minds might be individually closed. They never were, and in every case where this happened, the “oneness” of the Waa was used to eliminate any traces of the events from the humans’ memories.
It took the Waa more than thirty years, from Earth years 1946 to 1979, to complete the testing. Despite their initial optimism, no species was found that could fill the gap left by the Chih. The planet possessed nothing else the Waa desired, so they moved on to other worlds.
Some years later, the Waa found the Minith.
The species was not ideal for their purposes. Unlike the Chih, who rated a “two” on the Waa intelligence scale, the Minith rated significantly higher, with a “five.” In addition to the additional intelligence, the new species appeared to display violent, aggressive tendencies within their own race. Unable to determine if these tendencies would be directed at other races, the Waa were wary. But ultimately they had no choice. They were in decline, and the Minith met their only requirement—a closed mind.
The Waa landed on the Minith home world as soon as they could.
They were desperate to serve.
The telling of the story complete, Grant opened his eyes, both literally and figuratively. He now understood why the Waa needed the Minith. They had traded the symbiotic relationship they had shared with the Chih for a parasitic relationship with the Minith.
No wonder these poor bastards are hiding underground. They lost the beloved family pet and replaced it with the boogeyman, Grant thought.
“The Chih were more than pets, and the Minith fulfill our need,” the Waa on the right stated.
“Yeah, whatever,” Grant replied absently. He was already thinking about something else. “So tell me, if the Chih were a ‘two’ on your intelligence scale and the Minith are a ‘five,’ where do humans rate?”
“Humans are a ‘six.’”
Grant nodded, pleased they had confirmed his belief that the large aliens weren’t as bright as humans.
“Where do you guys rank yourselves and the Telgorans?”
“We are a ‘nine’ and the Telgorans are a ‘four.’”
Grant laughed. Obviously, they would rank their own intelligence higher than any other race. They had willingly enslaved themselves to the Minith, yet they were the smart ones.
“We serve the Minith, but we are not slaves.”
Grant blinked. It would take time to get used to their ability. He wondered if there was a way to block it.
“We have never encountered a human who could prevent us from receiving its thoughts,” the center alien replied. “If it is of any comfort, please know that we only intrude when necessary.”
Grant almost asked who determined necessity but held back. It was obvious that any race that considered itself a “nine” on the mental chart would believe it to be their right to impose that choice on a race of “sixes.” The three aliens blinked as one and gave a single, slight nod.
Message received.
Grant ignored the slight, though he doubted his hosts would acknowledge it as such, and changed mental gears.
“I don't see the distinction. You serve them. You build their ships and allowed them to take over your planet. If that's not slavery, I don't know what is.”
“It is our nature to serve,” the middle alien said simply, as if that explained everything. Grant gave up and let it slide. He had already come to grips with the fact that he would never understand the Telgorans, with their need to endlessly debate every decision they ever made. It was what it was, and they were who they were: an entirely different race. There was no reason to expect he would ever understand the Waa any better.
* * *
Sharing his father’s memory was one of the strangest events he’d ever experienced. He had heard, seen, and felt everything his father had experienced during those moments of his life. It was an experience unlike any other and gave Eli insights that he had never expected to receive.
Eli now understood the Waa need for the Chih, but there was more than that. Underneath the memory that Aank had shared were other, latent memories . . . experiences . . . feelings that had come from his father. Love for his wife and son, doubts about humanity’s ability to defeat the Minith, confusion about where the Waa stood, anger, understanding, fear, and pain . . . all were there, easily readable to the son. It was an unfiltered view into his father’s thoughts, desires, and emotions.
Eli struggled to make sense of it all, but quickly realized it was beyond his ability to comprehend fully. It was what it was, and he was fine with that. He was satisfied with what he’d gleaned from the memory and gave up on reading more into the event or into his father’s thoughts than what Aank had wanted to share.
He had a stronger affinity for his father as a result of the experience and now understood some of what drove his father and made him who he was.
It was enough.
The experience also explained why the Waa had aligned themselves with the Minith. And it explained why Eli’s discovery of the Chih here on Cerbius had elicited such a powerful response from Aank.
If the colony of six-legged creatures he had found was truly a long-lost strain of the Waa’s ancient Chih, this would be a major event for the entire Waa race. They would finally be able to cut their ties to the Minith.
Chapter 30
“We’re coming up on the coordinates the captain provided,” Eli heard Ensign Sheen report. He struggled into a sitting position and found himself on the deck of the carrier, the feet and legs of his fellow passengers on either side of him.
“Take it easy, there Captain,” Ming said, his hand reaching out for Eli’s shoulder. “You took a nasty fall off your seat and banged your head.”
“What?”
“Yep. You fell asleep and fell face first right onto the deck,” the ranger added. “Wagner says you’ll be all right; no real damage done. But you’re going to have that nasty bump on your forehead for a bit.”
Eli reached up to inspect the ache that was centered between his eyebrows. He found a good-size lump and fingered it gingerly. He tried to ignore the eyes of his fellow soldiers as they stared down at him. He imagined how he must look from their viewpoint. Their captain, seated on the floor, rubbing a knot that he’d received by falling out of his seat.
Just great.
Lead by example, his father always said.
What kind of example am I setting now, he wondered?
He reached out and pulled his body slowly into the seat to his right—the one he’d recently vacated. The eyes of the others in the back of the carrier still stared. He smiled and offered them a small nod.
All good. Nothing more to see here.
“Is that a—what the flock!” Eli heard Sheen’s exclamation and understood immediately. She’d found the Waa mothership. If he hadn’t tumbled from his seat he might have warned her, but there was nothing to be done about that now.
“Sheen, put us down a hundred meters from the ship.” He tried to shout the order, but the pounding in his head declined the attempt. The words came out in a harsh whisper.
He tried again. “Ensign Sheen!” Better.
“Yes, Captain?”
“Put the carrier on the surface a hundred meters from the mothership, please?”
“Yes, sir. You got it.”
Moments later, the carrier settled firmly to the surface.
“Everyone, listen up,” he spoke into the comms unit that was shared by the carriers. “We’ve just landed near an old Waa mothership. I’ve been here once, and . . . well . . . it was an interesting visit.”
Eli quickly informed the group that he and Aank would approach the alien ship alone. The rangers, along with Drek’s team, were instructed to set up a defensive perimeter around the carriers. Sheen and the rest of the Agate’s crew would remain inside the carriers and
keep the vehicles ready to move, if needed.
“It’s likely you’ll see some small, six-legged creatures outside,” he continued. “Do not fire on them. They should be considered friendly. Understood?”
“Sir, what’s a Waa mothership doing here?” Sheen asked. It was a good question, but one he didn’t have an answer for.
“I’m not sure, Ensign. But that’s one of the first things Aank and I will try to figure out. Any other questions?”
No one spoke up, so Eli gave the order to move out. He waited for the rangers in his carrier to exit the vehicle, then followed them out. He watched as they fanned out around the carrier and noted that the rangers in the second carrier were also moving into position.
You ready, Aank?
I believe so, Eli. Eli felt wisps of uncertainty and doubt in the Waa’s mental state. They were mixed with equal measures of hope and anticipation.
Waa, Waa, Waa! The Chih’s sudden cheer was unexpected and hit Eli’s mind like a wave. The excitement the hail delivered was heady and he felt compelled to move toward the ship.
Do you hear that, Aank? They can’t wait to meet you.
I cannot hear them, Eli. Can you hear the Chih?
Eli thought back to his father’s dream memory and remembered that the Waa were unable to read the Chih’s thoughts. Interesting. The Waa couldn’t hear them, but he could.
Yes, Aank. I can hear them. They are excited to finally meet you.
Eli felt a surge of wonder from Aank and knew the engineer was just as anxious. Well then, let’s get this ball rolling.
Eli saw Aank standing inside the doorway of the second carrier and moved to meet him. He offered the Waa his hand and helped him to the ground. Together, they faced the large mothership that loomed above and ahead.
Let’s go, Eli encouraged. The engineer laid his long, green fingers on Eli’s left forearm and nodded.
Lead the way, Eli.
Eli felt strange. He realized what this meeting meant to the Waa—knew how eventful this encounter might prove for the entire Waa race. He felt as if he was escorting a royal dignitary along the red carpet toward some grand, historical event. In a sudden moment of clarity, he understood that was exactly what he was doing, and he halted for a brief moment, unsteady and not at all prepared to play his part. He drew a deep breath against the sudden pounding that erupted inside his chest and head. He was just a lowly captain in the Shiale Alliance Defense Force. He wasn’t worthy of playing any part in this reunion, much less a leading one. This was his father’s place. Or one of Earth’s Culture Leaders. It certainly wasn’t his role to perform.
Stranded Justice (The Justice Trilogy Series Book 2) Page 18