by West, Shay
Robert shrugged. “I don't know. But perhaps the purpose of their deaths will come to light at a later date. After all, it wasn't until we came back here and found out about the enemy attack that the thought came to me about Tess’ death. But it is possible that all of the other deaths play some larger role that we can't fathom yet.”
“You are making my head hurt,” Forka grumbled. There was a part of him that still wanted to be angry at God for abandoning the Jhinn when they needed Him the most. He had never considered that Tess’ death, along with the deaths of other Chosen they had lost, was a part of some grand plan that mere mortals could never comprehend.
In a way, Forka was grateful to Robert for bringing up the possibility. It kept his mind from thinking of the Jhinn and his little mare. He spent the rest of the journey to the portal in quiet contemplation, trying to grasp the implications of what Robert had suggested, feeling inadequate to the task. Maybe the Masters will have some answers for us.
Forka snorted aloud at the voice in his head. It spoke more from routine than any real belief that the prophets had written anything helpful. He had come to realize that perhaps the prophets and the Masters did not have all the answers after all. It came as a surprise that the thought didn't bother him more. Gentrans lived their lives by what the prophets wrote pertaining to the future.
I have been gone too long. I have seen a different way, a better way. Living among the Jhinn had taught him that life could be lived without knowing what the future held. The people he had encountered on Earth did not have foresight. They had heart and guts, and that was all they needed to fight for survival against the Horde and the Cowboys. They held onto their belief that they would be reunited with loved ones in the afterlife in Heaven.
Forka glanced at the Volgons. They seemed to have the same mindset as the Chosen from Earth. These fierce warriors lived in much the same manner, except that their weapons, and the weapons of the enemy, were such that they left permanent scars on their world and drove them underground. But both races knew what it was to fight, and to live under the heavy shadow of danger. And yet they plowed forward, never stopping, never giving up.
--The fear feelings are getting stronger. Can you not lower their noise? It is becoming quite painful.
Forka glared at the clone walking near-by. “No, we can't lower the noise. Can you tune it out?”
--That is not possible.
Forka laughed at the snorts and somewhat angry replies of the rest of the group at the telepath's communication and his own outburst. Keera seemed ready to claw their eyes out. Forka had never known a girl that threw such fierce temper tantrums. Except Valery.
The clone managed to look embarrassed by the reactions of the group. The expression looked foreign on its normally expressionless face. --Why are these strange feelings aimed at me?
“Well, you asking us to turn down our feelings, considering that we can't always control them, is sort of, well…rude.” It was the best word Forka could come up with.
--I am afraid I do not understand this concept.
“Do you remember when we asked the telepaths to refrain from divulging everything they could sense in our minds? That there were certain thoughts we kept private?” Gerok asked suddenly.
--Is this similar?
“Well, yes and no.” Gerok gestured to the group. “We tend to keep quiet about things that might make another person feel bad. Bringing up personal topics is rude. Much the same as divulging private thoughts is rude. Understand?”
The clone shook its head. --I am afraid that your emotional capacity is quite beyond us.
“You understood the concept of private thoughts easily enough,” Gerok retorted.
--We were able to tell a difference between the brain wave patterns of those thoughts you call private and those that are not. But this new concept is more complicated. To determine what words would hurt someone's feelings, we would have to be able to understand your complex emotions.
“Well, we are going to be traveling together for quite some time. Perhaps you could begin to find a way? Consider it a new task, a new puzzle to solve.” Forka put an end to the conversation.
They had arrived at the cave.
GENTRA
FORKA EMERGED from the portal and was relieved when he felt the water move over his gills. He knew he was on Gentra and not some other watery world because his original form felt so familiar.
The portal chamber was dark. He swam quickly to the far wall to activate the glow rods. It would be easier for the others when they arrived if they could see.
As more and more came through the portal, Forka did a quick count. All of them had made it through this time. The relief was palpable. The Chosen hugged and clasped hands, spinning in place, their bells changing color so fast that it made Forka ill.
“We need to get to the Masters and report what has happened,” Gerok said.
--They are already aware. We have kept them appraised.
Gerok waved off the telepath. “Nonetheless, we need to get to them.” This thought consumed him. They will know what to do.
No one else had a better plan so they followed Gerok to the Home of the Masters. The Chosen acclimated quickly and kept up with Gerok easily as he swam to the home of the prophets. They ignored the stares of the other Gentrans nearby. It had been quite some time since they had seen anyone emerge from the building deemed off-limits by the Masters.
When Gerok darted through the doorway of the home of the prophets, Master Ferrok was in the foyer. To Gerok, it looked as though the head Master had aged tremendously. His bell had lost most of its color, a sign of great age.
“Gerok? Is it really you?”
Master Ferrok's voice had lost most of its former strength. Gerok's fragile self-control was slowly breaking. He needed to hear his Master's voice, sure and strong, not this weak and raspy voice coming from this weakened old Gentran.
“How long have we been gone?” Gerok asked.
Ferrok seemed confused by the question. He stared blankly at the Chosen and the remaining two Guardians fanned out before him.
Forka moved forward, feeling as shaken as Gerok at seeing the head Master looking so feeble. “Master Ferrok, how long have we been gone?”
“Years, Guardian.”
The two men turned to face Druska. His face was more stern than usual. “We have been waiting for you.” He sounded accusatory.
“We came as soon as we could—” Forka began, but he was interrupted.
“The clones informed us of what occurred on Earth. You should never have stayed there! All of you should have returned here,” Druska said, his anger apparent in his rapidly changing colors.
“We couldn't leave the people of the Jhinn to their fate. And most of the Chosen were frightened to go through the portal after Martha, Kyron, and Mark never appeared,” Forka said.
“What have the prophets written since we have been gone? If we have been gone for years, then surely they have new prophecy.” Gerok was in a panic.
Druska fixed him with a level stare. “There has been no prophecy.”
There was something in the man's voice that made Forka go cold.
“Maybe it is written in one of the other languages, like before,” Gerok said, his voice quivering.
“No, Guardian. There has been no prophecy written about anything.”
“That cannot be!” Gerok had both sets of hands to his face, shaking his head violently side to side.
“The deaths of the Chosen have altered our ability to foresee the future.”
“Then how are we supposed to fight the Mekans?” Gerok asked frantically.
“I don't know. But you have to find a way. The whole galaxy depends on you,” Druska said.
Forka tried to keep his features still as stone. He did not want to betray his worry at Druska's words. The absence of any new prophecy was troublesome. He was Gentran, however much time he had spent on Earth. To Gentrans, prophecy was everything.
“I am filling
in as head Master. Without prophecy to tell us who should fill the role, it was decided that as next eldest of the Masters, I should take over.” Druska's voice was flat and monotone.
Forka knew the Master was shaken. If there was no prophecy, how were they to know what to prepare for? Gentrans used prophecy for every important decision: who to elect as head Master; when to evacuate homes that were too near a vent, and at risk due to its imminent, violent eruptions; when someone shouldn't travel because they would encounter danger.
“How many others know of this?” Forka asked, fearing the worst, hoping for the best.
“Only those that need to know, at least for now. But it won't take long for everyone to realize that we no longer have the power to foresee the future.” Druska floated aimlessly back and forth.
“We will have to learn a new way. Most of the worlds we have studied do not have any knowledge of future events. Decisions are made only when a situation arises, and the life forms have to live with the consequences of those decisions.”
Druska spun to face Forka. “The ability will come back. It has to come back. We can't move forward without knowing that will happen…”
“On the contrary, you have already been moving forward, minute by minute, hour by hour. You made a decision that you should take Ferrok's place did you not?” Forka asked.
“Well, yes but that's different…”
Forka interrupted again. “Why is it different? Someone needed to take charge and you, being the eldest, were the logical choice, and a resolution was reached. It was simple.”
Druska shook his head, unwilling to give in so easily. “That was only one little thing. We have had so many others arrive, asking for the answers, and we have sent them away, claiming that the prophets will know the answer soon. What are we going to tell them?”
“Try the truth! They deserve that much. It isn't fair to keep them in the dark. And they will figure it out sooner or later. How long can you lie to them?” Sloan was frustrated with these beings. They were so full of secrets.
“Have you not heard one word Druska has said?” Gerok turned on Sloan, wanting to take him by the shoulders and shake some sense into his thick skull. “We Gentrans are prophecy! We don't know any other way. What you ask is impossible.”
“And yet some of you have obviously been able to make decisions without knowledge of events to come. So it's not impossible.”
Druska waved both arms. “Although we do not have prophecy to help us, we still have our technology. There is something you all need to see.”
The Chosen followed Forka and Gerok. All of them were filled with anxiety and apprehension. They had been hoping the prophets had written something useful while they had been gone. Finding out that they had written nothing at all was worrisome.
And yet they had no choice but to move ahead and try to think of a plan to fight the Mekans.
“I wonder how far away they are?”
“The Mekans?” Sloan shrugged at Keera's whispered question. “I am not sure I really want to know.”
“At least it would be something.”
Sloan grinned at the expression on Keera's face. “Are you so anxious to face those things?”
Keera snorted, the water shooting out of her delicate siphon. “Not exactly, no. But at least we would be forced to do something constructive. So far, other than dealing with things on Astra and Earth, we haven't learned anything or figured out how to fight them.”
“I am not sure I understand where you are going with this.”
Keera gave him a look that made him feel slow-witted. “Master Brok used to put us in situations where we were forced to improvise, think quickly on our feet. He said it would prepare us for dealing with different situations. How exactly did he put it…” Keera reached up for a non-existent curl to help her in her thought process, then snarled when she remembered she had no hair on this world.
“I think I know what you mean. Forka often did similar things, telling us that we would need the ability to react to the unexpected.”
Keera nodded. “So, until we face the Mekans, we may not be able to figure out how to beat them.” She smiled at Sloan, glad that he had understood what she had been trying to explain.
“You may be right, but I want to put it off all the same.”
“Coward.” Keera punched him in the arm.
“Bossy brat.” Sloan easily avoided her harder punch and laughed at the look of fury on her face.
“Don't you dare duck when I'm hitting you!” Keera lunged again, becoming more agitated each time Sloan floated just out of reach.
“And why should I sit still and let you?” Sloan couldn't stop laughing. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so hard.
Keera screwed up her face, said a word of power and wrapped Sloan in invisible tendrils of air.
“Hey! You're not playing fair.” Sloan struggled against the invisible bonds.
“Why should I play fair? I want to win.” Keera floated in front of the quite thoroughly trapped Chosen, delighting in her victory. She moved closer.
“So what are you going to do with me?”
Keera found her heart racing. No one had ever looked at her like that. She wanted to feel his arms around her, to feel his lips, to feel….
She gasped and jumped as Forka cleared his throat behind her. “Please release him and try to keep up with the rest of the group.”
Keera tried to stammer an apology, but the look in the man's eyes froze her tongue. She hurriedly let go of the power and swam after Sloan, blushing at the snickers and giggles coming from the others.
“What were you thinking?” Gwen asked, giving her friend an odd look.
“We were just talking, and then, well…I sort of hit him, and then we sort of started fighting, and it got a little out of hand!” Keera glared at Gwen as if daring the tiny girl to say a word.
“I see.” Gwen had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing. She knew her friend well enough to know that laughing right now would not be a good thing to do.
“As long as you understand,” Keera said primly.
The Chosen were going to a building they had not yet been to. It was on the outer edges of the vents. There weren't many Gentrans nearby, and there were no plankton blankets or scrago pens.
Since traffic to this building was reserved for a few select Gentrans, little effort was given to polishing the sherubite crystals, and it was darker here than in the heart of the Gentran city. The Chosen remembered tales of those who had been lost while they traveled, eaten by some predator that prowled in the inky blackness.
“Whatever this is, I hope it doesn't last long. I don't like it out here.” Kaelin tried to peer everywhere at once, certain that she would see a huge mouth full of pointy teeth just waiting to snatch her.
“Don't worry, little lady. I'll protect you,” Brad said.
If Gentrans had eyebrows, Kaelin's would have been up to her hairline. “I see. So you think it's your duty to protect all of us helpless girls?”
Brad's smile faltered, and he tried to stammer an explanation.
“Well, come on then, out with it. What exactly would you do if some huge monster swam up to us right now?”
“I was only trying—”
Kaelin suddenly giggled. “I'm teasing you. I appreciate your gallant words.” Kaelin did a little curtsey.
“I do believe you are making fun of me.”
“Perhaps just a little.”
“I guess your power could handle anything that came out of the darkness with bad intention.”
“That's true, but it would be ever so nice to let you big, strong men handle things.” Kaelin batted her eyes.
“Now I know you're making fun of me,” Brad said in mock severity. “You keep this up, I won't lift a finger to help. I mean it.”
“Oh, dear. We can't have that now, can we?”
Brad rolled his eyes. “I can't win.”
“Better you admit that now. It will make things much easi
er in the future.” The words slipped out before Kaelin could stop them.
Brad did not say a word, only reached out and enveloped her small hand in his. He felt a warm rush fill him. He had thought long and hard about what the future might mean for him and Kaelin. In it, the two of them lived in a small house built with his own two hands. They spent their days working the land and caring for their livestock and children. Brad knew now that he was willing to leave the Protectors forever and even live on Astra if that's what Kaelin wanted.
Druska led them into a dwelling high up on the side of one of the largest vents the Chosen had seen thus far. He lit the glow rods and motioned the Chosen further inside. The dwelling was one massive room filled with tables and computers. Most of the screens were dark, but a few had lines of text flowing across them and pictures flashing so quickly that they couldn't be identified.
--I find it strange that your computers function in the water.
“It is no stranger that your cities that float in the air, or the Astrans magical power.”
The Kromin nodded.--That is true. Each of our worlds evolved very differently.
“Here is what I want to show you. Brace yourselves,” Druska said ominously. He hit a few buttons on the sunken keyboard, then stepped aside so they could see what was transpiring on the screen.
“As near as we can tell, what you are about to see happened only a few weeks ago.”
Silence filled the room as a clear image formed of a desolate landscape, filled with red and peach rock thrusting upward from the ground, streaked with black and browns. There was no vegetation and no signs of life.
Until the man came into view leading a camel.
The video showed him stopping and the camel balking. There was no sound, so the Chosen couldn't hear the bellowing of the camel or the growing sound of the Mekan engines.
When the Chosen got their first glimpse of the Mekans, they gasped in terror, their hearts dropping to their feet. They had been told the Mekans were big, but nothing could have prepared them for what they were seeing.
The machines dwarfed the sandstone cliffs they flew over. Their legs slowly descended from their bulky bodies, smashing the rocks, toppling them like they were a child's set of wooden blocks. The picture on the screen was shaking. It made the Chosen nauseous but they forced themselves to watch.