The Man Who Talked to Suns

by Stephen Andrews

  Ansti stayed sitting up on his bed and watched Ashur sway gently from the Meridian he had consumed. Ashur softened and reached across the space between them and the gulf in world-views, patting Ansti on the knee.

  “Ansti, I’m a little vacuous from Meridian, but what I want to say, what I want to ask is, work with me. We are different, but we share a goal; we ache to free our people and families. Blame me if you need to, but don't blame me for starting a war. Blame me for not stopping it or not winning it. It was always coming, Ansti and…” to Ansti’s amazement Ashur choked on his words and a tear drop trickled down his cheek. Ashur let it roll down, and then visibly gathered himself “…and I carry a burden for not preventing it. Ansti, we formed a bond once and I know you trust me less now, but trust that what I do is for the good of us all, and if you can’t trust that, then trust that I must put things right with my conscience. I failed Ansti and it cost lives and freedom and a way of life. Help me to put it right.”

  Ansti examined Ashur. He seemed older, insecure and in deep pain. He had revealed something; not the character he projected to move through the world, but the real man, the feeling man. Ansti could not help but respect this and in turn feel empathy with it. He dropped his legs from the bed and knelt in front of Ashur, meeting his downcast face. He probed Ashur’s body language and looked deep into his eyes, seeking subterfuge or manipulation, and finding none, he wiped the tear from the older man’s cheek.

  “If only you’d asked this way before Ashur, there would have been no need for manipulations. I came to help, and I will. All I ask it that you stay honest and don't ask me to do things that compromise my values. Don’t sacrifice my feelings to assuage yours.”

  Ashur looked up, with a new expression; it radiated approval, relief, and pride now, the dark troubled furrows replaced with laughter lines and shining eyes. He slapped Ansti on the back too hard and Ansti had to steady himself with a hand to prevent from toppling over.

  Ashur laughed and helped Ansti to right himself. “So we have an agreement — a partnership. Let’s keep it this way Ansti. These people we are taking into danger are children. Have you looked at them? Most weren't born when the war started and those that were are scarred by years of oppression or flight. They need strength and tenderness in equal measure. We can offer it. We have power now, but these people don't know how to wield it properly. Help me focus it and free ourselves Ansti. Together we can do great things.”

  Ansti sat back on his haunches, reached forward and grasped Ashur’s hand. “It’s a deal Ashur. I’m here any way. All I ask is that you stay honest with me. You’re used to operating in a world where lies and subterfuge are survival mechanisms, I function in a world where honesty is the currency of possibilities. I guess we each need something of the others skills to make this mission work.”

  Ashur rose to his feet and Ansti rose to meet him. Ashur had something of his authority back, he seemed to have regained composure, and Ansti wondered at his stamina, Meridian usually had a long-lasting affect. In fact it was prized for its ability to intoxicate for days on just a few sips and snorts. Ashur seemed to be processing it very quickly.

  “Ansti, people need us. Perhaps the way I approached recruiting you was a little… tactless, but I cannot fight this war without you. I suppose I wanted to make sure you could not say no. Forgive me?”

  They stood face to face for a moment before embracing as friends do. The residue of awkwardness remained but each man intended to repair what had been broken.

  “I’ll let you finish resting, Ansti. Suns know you won’t get much in the coming days.”

  Ansti smiled and raised a hand in farewell. Ashur was at the door when he turned and looked back. A hint of the interrogators piercing look flickered across his face.

  “You know we asked the vehicle about the incident you described; the par-born fight. It acknowledged it had happened and gave some very odd answers to our questions. It was confused or communicating badly. It seems to think that you fought a single-par-born alone.”

  Ansti thought and felt the pressure of accusation return so soon after they agreed to trust each other. Suspicion was as natural to Ashur as breathing.

  “Me? I wouldn't be here now if I had been alone; I could not fight that thing alone. I fought but I suspect I was little more than a diversion. The vehicle was in a different room, watching through a transparent wall. Its view would have been obscured and the fight very quickly became a confusing mass. I think it did not see properly Ashur.”

  Ashur shrugged and turned to go raising his own hand in farewell. “Be careful Ansti, this universe has unpleasant surprises. We may well encounter a few in the coming days. Rest well.”

  Ansti returned to his rest, but let the story patch run itself. He looked around at the curved functionality of his cabin and felt a sudden longing for the open ocean of his world or the beautiful deep blackness of transit. This space, physical and emotional, confined him. In confinement he felt diminished and dysfunctional. And yet, this was his road back, back to the places and people he cherished. A sigh left him and he rose from the bed making himself exercise and stretch while ordering himself inside. Not for the first time he wondered if there were par-born on this ship. The vehicle’s uncharacteristically confused version of events was peculiar and also lacking in any reference to Ansti’s last encounter with the par-born swarm. Perhaps it did not communicate because it was not asked, or did it simply not know? Ansti wondered if Ashur’s parting words were prophetic. The next jump would be in hours and he would find out.

  Chapter 12.

  Warm breeze swept over rolling green lushness that was punctuated by boulders the colours of sunset. The flora grew straight and tall, grasslike in its movement in the wind. From the Praveen’s vantage point atop the boulder the flora swayed and rippled like ocean waves. A troop of winged molluscs emerged just in front of him, scattering from some unseen predator deep in the emerald stems. The veldt vegetation was taller than him. He had ridden here on the back of a tamed bipedal hunter whose mass and agility parted the dense stems. Not many of his kind made these pilgrimages now. It was considered quaint and old fashioned to trek out into the veldt. The journey was characterised more by discomfort than reward, but he liked to keep close to the roots of his clan. After all, such forays were once a right of passage for a Praveen choosing its gender. How could one truly know what reproductive role to take without such a connection with the world?

  He was not alone. A small group of compatriots mounted on similar beasts, crunched and squeaked through the partial gaps made by his mount. They joined him on the boulder and regarded the vista in front. There was no doubt it was beautiful. The swaying green vegetation extended to the horizon, gently rising and falling with the hills and gullies it covered. The boulders that dotted the landscape had been carefully placed by generations of aesthete-ecologists to enhance the beauty and enrich the ecosystem. Appreciating it was an art still taught in the more traditional schools of his clan, and he had learned his lessons well. He curled his lip a little and let his snout rise up, opening his nostril slits wide and drinking in the scents carried on the breeze. The air was good enough to drink, and the aromas perfectly matched the tones and shapes of the ecology. He rumbled a satisfied-honour-share and felt the subsonic vibrations of his compatriots as they joined him in celebrating the goodness of life, and the wisdom of their choice in deciding to journey here.

  He was growing antlers; a collection of small stubs covered in velvet, protruded from the rear of his head. If he did not make a choice soon he would develop male. The antlers were a sign that his body tended this way. Tradition said he should make a conscious choice about gender and decide to be male or female. Such choices separated the Praveen from the other life forms. It was the mark of a civilised species to choose, and a source of much amusement and entertainment that intelligent but crude species like humans did not. Some Praveen felt sorry for humanity. To be so disabled must create terrible tensions, but many more foun
d a rich vein of humour that could reduce Praveen to helpless hoots of breathless laughter.

  He was with three others, all at the same stage of developing their gender, and all of the same clan except one, a friend of a friend. They started making preparations to bed down for the night. The great boulder they stood on would form their base. Up here they were protected from the nastier biting and sucking creatures that lurked in the stems below. Even so they would sleep in tents; their scents would signal a feast for the smaller creatures and may even attract the attention of larger and more dangerous predators. The tents would suppress their scent, and they came equipped with guardian senses that would alert them to movement. He did not entirely trust this technology, and much to the amusement of his companions, he insisted on a watch rota that would see one of them awake at any given time of night. They laughed at how he was making ammunition for those who said there was no fun to be had on these treks, and after a pause he laughed too.

  The sun was setting and the colour of the sky began turning from light blue to a deep turquoise. The few clouds on the horizon glowed gold, ochre and red, feeding the boulders light in the spectrum they reflected, and creating the illusion of deep saturated colour. He felt a beauty-longing-question from a companion and replied in the affirmative. Two of the party had erected their tents and returned to their mounts. They were heading out to hunt for food. It was a good time to go. Many creatures were active at the top of the stem sea, preparing for night flights. They were easier to find and catch now than when hidden in the tangle of lower stems. He hooted a skill-bravado-luck sound and they replied loudly as they took their mounts out and away.

  He ran a long prehensile tongue over the short sharp teeth at the front of his jaw; a reflexive movement made in anticipation of eating. The hunters should take no more time to catch a feast than it took to prepare the fire cage for cooking. He decided they should start making it now. He saw his companion’s tent was finished and wandered over to it. The companion was inside fixing something of importance, so he gave it a playful shove and rumbled comedy-spirit-urgency, accompanied by a few hoots questioning the whereabouts of the fire-cage. A head emerged from the tent rumbling error-embarrassment-folly. It seemed that the fire-cage was strapped to one of the hunter’s mounts, and the cooking could not start until they returned. Dinner would be a late affair and less than optimally prepared. He gave a low bass hoot of embarrassment to compliment the rumblings of his friend and made a so-be-it gesture.

  He almost jumped at the loud hoot of triumph and powerful comedy-fool-dominance rumbling that assailed him as his friend pushed the unassembled fire-cage from his tent. The joke was obvious and a little juvenile but still fun and he returned the hoots and rumbles signifying amusement and a hint of resigned disapproval. They took time setting up the fire cage, assembling it in the order prescribed by tradition. First the containment cage then the feeding slip and finally the fire bowl. The feeding slip had four scuttles, one for each of the party, arranged at ninety degrees to each other. When it was all done they levelled it and secured it the boulder. It was functional and beautiful with burnished metals and epoxies glowing in the last light. Its very presence increased their hunger and anticipation.

  The companion brought out spiced and scented tinder blocks and placed them in the fire bowl, while he created little piles of herbs and spices on the indented trays designed for the task. There was one tray for each diner, and he was careful to try and remember his companions’ preferences. He even added the course ground mineral preferred by other clans to one tray. By the time they had finished they felt the vague deep subsonic rumblings of hunters with food returning. It was dark now and they lit the fire bowl — it sparked into life with a fizz of heat and colour and scent — and turned on glow globes. The area of their camp glowed orange, another compliment to the eco-system they were part of.

  The two hunters emerged from the darkness into the subtle field of light cast by the camp fire, one holding a large sack high and the other still stowing the nets and clawed scoops used for hunting. The sack moved and writhed. Clearly the hunters had been successful as they were expected to be and they shared hoots and rumbles of success-praise-excitement reverberated across the night, punctuating the calls and clicks of nocturnal creatures. The hunters bedded down mounts and bounded up to the waiting pair who greeted them with snouts high in celebration. He took the sack, being careful not to lose grip on the seal or hold it too close. Some of the creatures they would feast on had stings that were painful and debilitating and could penetrate even the tough bait sack.

  The hunters retired to wash and clean while he set about attaching the sack to the correct place on the fire-cage. He found the locating point and attached the sack to its support before fixing the open end to the containment cage, being careful to keep the door shut so none of the captives could emerge. He checked the coax was located as it should be and sat, satisfied that all was ready. The others gathered shortly, each identifying his own tray of spices and condiments and rumbling satified-admiration-gratitude at him. Once they were all settled they elected roles. He would be second to eat and initiator for the first. The companion from another clan would start as befitted his status as guest.

  He placed a foot on the stoke lever, took the coax in one hand and hovered a finger of the other hand over the cage release. The coax was now glowing red hot at one end and was ready for use. He glanced at the companion who was selecting pinches of spice and herbs and minerals, dropping them into the palm of one hand and occasionally sniffing to judge the mix. The companion finished, closed his hand over the melange and nodded. He readied himself for the coordination required. Getting this next task wrong would be embarrassing and amusing but he was ready and practised, and so he began.

  His finger clicked down on the release, opening the door between the containment cage and bait sack. Simultaneously he raised the coax, and saw the movement within reach a new level of urgency as the captured creatures inside felt the heat radiating from it. A pair of venomous winged and barbed molluscs darted out of the sack and into the containment cage. Instantly he glanced at the companion who twitched his assent. His foot pressed down on the stoke lever and a jet of flame leapt up into the cage. As it did the companion threw his fistful of spices at the captive creatures inside. Some attached to the sticky exterior of the molluscs while others burned in the flame, creating a smokey aroma. The heat of the flame instantly boiled and crisped the exterior of the molluscs which were now desperately trying to escape the cage. Their plight did not last long as the jet of flame seared their exterior, burnt out toxins and extinguished their lives. As they died and dropped so the companion used his own small coax to deftly guide them into his feeding slip. The molluscs now crisped and hot outside, raw and juicy inside and spiced perfectly, shot down the slip and were caught in the small sharp teeth of the waiting companion, who crunched and licked while rumbling delicious-perfection-honour. The feast had started auspiciously.

  As tradition dictated they took it in turns to eat and to manage the fire-cage for each other. The fire-cage feast was ages old and had been used to seal treaties and reproductive bonds. In times past, when anger was more important than humour, it had even ended wars. Here and now amongst this group it created bonds of friendship that might mature into reproductive partnerships. It might persuade one individual to develop male and another female so they could form that bond and bring a new generation of Praveen into the universe. He suspected that his friend hoped the companion from another clan would make just such a decision, and wondered what gender each would choose. They ate and drank and laughed into the night until embers died and food was gone, and the call of sleep was more urgent then the joy of companionship. Each retired to his own tent and sent deep resonating slumber-joy-content rumblings until they all synchronised and sleep turned rumblings into soft breathy purrs. Not one of them had remembered the watch rota.

  Chapter 13.

  He woke to sounds, some were outside his t
ent and one unmistakable noise was inside. His tent guardian emitted a trilling bass alert that resonated in his exterior ears and internal hearing drums. It was still dark and his companions were outside making an unseemly noise. He would have complained at the rudeness had it not been for the guardian inferring danger of some kind. Clearly something was going on, so he scrambled out of his sleep sack, popped the seal on his tent and stuck his head out.

  Dawn was readying itself. Red, gold, purple and pink streaked the horizon and reflected off clouds that caught the first rays of light below them. His eyes adjusted quickly and he saw two of his companions silhouetted against the sky’s palette. They were looking out at something and both clutched weapons. The noise was being made by their mounts who were reluctantly and clumsily being shepherded onto the boulder by the third member of their little group. The mounts were well evolved to slice through the veldt vegetation but not equipped to climb the boulder. The sight of them trying was both alarming and comical. Had he been less worried he would have shared a joke. As it was he rumbled and hooted a confusion-information-concern message at his fellows. He received a reply without them turning.

  A predator was out there. The mounts had sensed it first, sending out hissing and spitting warnings to their competitor. The noise had woken one of his companions who had charged outside, setting off the alarms. So much for the guardian technology. Now they scanned for the animals with infra-sonic sensors and a laser torch that pierced the darkness with a lance like beam of light. It quickly caught the staccato shifting of tall stems as a predator stop-started its way through them. It was closer than they would have liked but still far enough not to worry them too much. The veldt vegetation obscured it somewhat but there was no mistaking the signature movement and the slim, powerful and segmented mass. It was probably an alpha hunter; top of the food chain and evolved to eat, survive and reproduce and do very little else. They watched it with concern and whispered communications. If it was hungry or threatened it could be very dangerous, and it hunted in packs.