The Man Who Talked to Suns

by Stephen Andrews

  Tannen practiced a throwing movement before committing to launch the pebble. He didn't want to harm Ansti, or miss, or lose the pebble, although he feared that he would lose it whatever happened. In the weightless environment the pebble would only slow when it hit something or the air resistance eventually overcame its momentum. The former would happen a long time before the latter. Tannen focused, drew back his arm and managed to throw hard enough and accurately enough to satisfy himself. For a few moments the little alien rock progressed serenely, and then it changed course and curved downward with increasing speed, bouncing once or twice on the floor before sliding to a stop. Tannen stared, looked up at Ansti as he rotated in mid-air and shocked himself with the new and obvious conclusion. Ansti was weightless but the room was not. The life support was working properly, and it was Ansti who was disobeying the laws of gravity.

  Tannen thought of Ashur and the mental connection provoked a response. He felt the urgency and frustration even before the heard the words.

  “Get in there Tannen and stop playing little boys’ games.”

  One again Tannen felt the prickle of anger at Ashur’s disregard for his safety, and the wave of cold denial at his own complicity in obeying. He knew it was wrong and unfair, and yet he would do it. Ashur had his measure and he knew it. Each time Tannen failed to challenge Ashur it made it less likely that he ever would. Was it cowardice, habit or a greater moral duty that compelled him to obey? Perhaps Ashur was simply more skilled at securing obedience than he was at resisting. Tannen didn't spend time examining his motivation, and he swallowed the pang of frustrated self-anger that accompanied his decision to act as directed. So a new struggle to move began, and as he persuaded reluctant limbs and nerves to work together, Tannen wondered how long any of the crew could stay sane and survive if trapped in this environment.

  Luck played its part and so did learning. Tannen was developing a new skill, and practice was improving it. It still took time but the falls were less catastrophic. He moved towards Ansti, avoiding the larger items of ship grown structure and fused human additions. The blue lighting Ansti preferred bathed the room in what looked like artificial moonlight, and it soothed nerves and calmed anxieties. It created odd effects too, Tannen had several moments when he sensed movement in his peripheral vision. Phantom glimpses of shadows forming and dispersing or items blurring, plagued the edges of his sight. His reflexes told his head to whip in the direction of the movement, but it seldom did, and he was left with the disquiet of half imagined things.

  Tannen wobbled and lurched until he was standing within arms length of Ansti. He wished dearly for something to steady himself and more for the company of other crew members. The odd half-seen movements that teased the edge of his vision had combined with the twilight lighting levels to unnerve him. His imagination wanted to create things stalking him in the shadows, and he had to fight the urge to look up into the darkness receding above him. At least he was not drifting helplessly in an unseen weightless bubble. The room’s life support was functioning perfectly, but it seemed that Ansti was not as persuaded of this as he was. Ansti continued to rotate without acknowledging Tannen in the slightest.

  What to do now? Tannen debated with himself. He could reach out and touch Ansti, but what would happen if he did? Would that contact connect him with whatever kept Ansti suspended? Would it break something that Ansti had done to manoeuvre the ship around the defences of the barrier world? Might it send Ansti dropping to the floor in a bone shattering fall? He couldn't see Ansti’s face, his knees were raised and bent, pulled against his face by his surrounding arms. Tannen had noticed a bad smell around Ansti, when he entered the room, and now he was close it was strong and pungent like someone had eaten citrus fruit and vomitted. It did not help that Ansti was naked and for half his rotation he displayed more of himself to Tannen than Tannen had ever wished to see.

  Tannen needed help to decide what to do. He flashed a message to Ashur, and steeled himself for a response that he knew he would not like. He felt Ashur’s presence as the guide patch linked their consciousness, but for long moments there was no reply. Then it came.

  “Is he alive, Tannen? Can you see breathing or any signs of life at all?”

  Tannen looked hard at Ansti’s ribs, the only place that he could think of to look for the telltale expansion and contraction of lungs, and yes there was movement.

  “Yes, he’s breathing, I think.” There was puffing sound of some kind that came from Ashur. It was not exactly a sigh of relief, but Tannen thought it was something like that.

  “What’s keeping him there? Can you see anything?” Ashur had that demanding tone he adopted with his crew and it prodded Tannen into a response.

  “There’s nothing, at least nothing I can see. It looks like he’s weightless. He’s just spinning perfectly around his centre, and there’s no movement in any plane. He’s not drifting at all. I’ve tried calling and he doesn’t answer. It’s a shame we never re-fitted his guide patch, we’d be able to tap right into…”

  Ashur cut across that sentiment “Yes, but we didn't so let’s not waste time. Have you touched him?”

  Tannen wanted to lie and say yes. He wanted to avoid the obvious next step if he said no. For a desperate moment the lie formed in his mind, but he could not believe in telling it.

  “No” he said “Its not at all obvious what is keeping him here. I might disturb it or break something that is holding him. I didn't want to risk it.”

  He left out his fear for his own safety, already knowing that this held no sway with Ashur.

  “Try it.”

  Tannen felt his stomach knot. “Ashur, we don’t know…”

  Once again Tannen was not allowed to finish his sentence. “How long did it take you to get there Tannen?” Ashur’s voice was undramatic and firm.

  “I’ll tell you. It took nearly half a standard day. I know you’re hurt, and scared. The guide patch is leaking a lot, but you’re the man on the spot, and to get others there will take too long. We can do a medical diagnosis from the pilots couch but we need to get him in. You know you did a remarkable thing actually reaching him at all. I don't know how much time we have left do you? Of course not. So, its down to you. Tannen, there’s a reason I sent you. I trust you, and he trusts you. Not all of this crew are as skilled or dedicated, and Ansti certainly has very few friends here. You know you are one of the few he’s actually talked to. We both need you Tannen.”

  There was something about Ansti that disturbed Tannen. The pilot’s body had a waxy translucent appearance that left Tannen feeling he could shine a light through it, illuminating the organs and bones. The ghostly appearance did nothing to reassure Tannen or ease his sense of menace lurking in the dim recesses. His imagination was working against and him and he tried to gather himself and focus on what he could see rather than what he could not. There was only Ansti rotating gently just in front of him. How easy it would be to reach out and touch. It was his duty, his task, the thing for which he was uniquely suited, if Ashur was to be believed. He could just do it. There was a man in front of him, nothing else. A man suspended in a way he could not fathom, but the universe was full of mysteries that humans could not solve. Was this one small riddle so threatening?

  Resolve took hold of Tannen and he found his courage. An echo of approval rebounded off Ashur in the emotional landscape the guide patch created. But, Tannen did not need approval now, his own determination was driving him. Slowly and deliberately he began raising his arm and stretching out the fingers of his hand. The movement came, not entirely as he wished, but it came. His palm shifted oddly and twisted to face upwards as if it was readying to accept a gift. His arm extended and drew closer to Ansti until in a final exhilarating instant Tannen’s index finger brushed Ansti’s shoulder as it turned.

  The texture of Ansti’s body shocked Tannen. Its substance seemed only half present, and the skin so cold that at first he mistook it for burning hot fever. As his senses gathered themselves,
his eyes widened. Ansti had begun moving. He unfurled like a flower, arms expanding away from their locked grip on his knees. His legs began straightening, and the movement was at once perfectly human and disconcertingly alien. As he expanded, small drops of something drifted away from Ansti. Tannen wondered if it was sweat or skin or something else and became increasingly anxious as little globules moved towards his face.

  Ansti continued spinning and unfurling, and Tannen realised Ansti’s arms would sweep down and knock his legs out from under him on the next rotation. Tannen began a retreat that he feared would not be finished in time. His slow reflexes and uncertain movements guaranteed that Ansti would make contact. Ansti’s back was towards Tannen now with his head pointing up, and he would end up facing towards Tannen as his head swept past the floor. It would be Tannen’s first look at the man’s face, a man he knew but who showed no sign of recognition other than the new, robotic movement of his body.

  Tannen feared the fall that was coming. Contact with Ansti would not be so very hard, but it would unbalance him and lead to another uncontrolled collapse. Cushioning the inevitable impact might be achieved with luck, but he knew from painful experience that in the slow time of jump, luck was a rare commodity. So, Tannen took his cue from Ansti’s posture and moments before and began drawing his arms up to protect his face, mimicking a fighter’s protective stance. The movement was slow and uncoordinated but it was simpler than trying to move joints and bone in a coordinated movement aimed at bracing against impact with the floor. His arms began curling, and as they did they left him a clear view of Ansti. He was virtually upside down with his face drifting into view. Tannen had time to see the familiar features and watch Ansti’s eyes flick open. Tannen felt a wave of relief — at least the pilot was alive — but that relief hardly had time to form. It was instantly replaced by a cold knot of despair. Tannen did not gaze into the familiar brown irises he had looked into many times before. As he held Ansti’s gaze, and arms swept into contact with his shins, he looked into the bright orange and green concentric circles of par-born.

  A little gasp had time to escape from Tannen, and then he felt himself swept into a fall. His mass seemed to have no effect on Ansti’s rotation, and the outstretched arms pushed Tannen’s feet out from under him with no interruption to their movement. Tannen felt himself shift, but not in the direction he expected. He moved up and began to spin himself. He wondered if whatever had taken Ansti was taking him too, and then in a moment of intense horror realised that no, he was not spinning as Ansti had. Shapes were coalescing around him. Things moved out of the shadows and seemed to form from them. The fears he had rationalised and put to one side as imaginings, were becoming real. It terrorised the man. The shapes were taking human form and the psychological defences he had built crumbled, leaving the frightened and vulnerable little boy of his childhood exposed to its worst fear. Monsters from the dark were coming for him.

  Shapes moved at him, a few at first, then dozens and hundreds. They were human and yet not human. Each was naked but showed no signs of gender except for the outline of female form. They came at him, invading his space and crowding impossibly. The host insinuated itself into his mind and emotions, each now a point of unique fear and together a collective overwhelming horror. If terror itself could take shape then this was its form. The par-born ejected him emotionally from the room, and once that was accomplished his body could not help but follow. He felt their grip on him lifting and moving, each touch at once like a lovers tenderness and a predators penetrating claw.

  Tannen desperately wanted to go now. The sense of malice surrounding him was overwhelming. He knew that he faced par-born, and more than he had ever imagined could exist. He had though of them as elusive and ephemeral, perhaps even lonely. But now they displayed aggression that he had never guessed at, and in numbers he never wold have thought possible. He felt himself borne aloft and propelled towards the door, and he did not wish to resist. Had he tried he would have found nothing in his emotional or physical arsenal that could make the slightest difference; his fear colluded with their desire for him to leave, but ultimately what he wanted, simply did not matter.

  He was ejected and deposited outside the room. The par-born led him on a leash of fear and released him back to where he had spent so much energy moving from. He was above the floor when they lost interest in him, and he fell, body twisting and limbs flailing in slow motion. He had no control over his flesh as it tumbled towards impact with the deck, but luck gave him a view back into the room. He expected to see ghost like par-born doing something unholy to Ansti. He had decided Ansti was the object of an attack, perhaps orchestrated as part of the Helvyani empathy hex that they sought to penetrate. In his imagination the par-born had taken on the role of collaborator with the enemy. If that was the case then what he saw now chilled him again. Ansti did not have the look of a man held prisoner by the par-born. On the contrary it looked like Ansti had joined them.

  Ansti had stopped spinning but he still hovered inexplicably, bathed in blue moonlight tones. He was facing directly towards Tannen, arms and legs spread in a parody of a once famous painting. Around him moved the essence of hundreds of par-born. They swarmed and circled like a flock of birds caught in a whirlwind, each seeming to flicker in and out of Tannen’s vision. His sight slipped off individuals and only the collective presence made any visual sense. A vast orbiting throng moved around Ansti, and Tannen could not help but think of one metaphor — Ansti was the sun at the heart of a solar system of par-born.

  Tannen gazed at the spectacle, wondering what Ansti must be feeling, and a growing anxiety gnawed at him. If Ansti was with these things, if he had joined them or even if they held him somehow, could any of them ever leave the dark nothingness between jumps? Perhaps this was the weapon the Helvyani deployed — the perfect prison. Tannen had locked his eyes on Ansti, but he could not hold the gaze, his body was contorting and taking his face towards the floor. It would not be long before he lost all sight of Ansti and the room he shared with the par-born. There were a few moments left and Tannen found himself willing a message of need at Ansti. He knew the pilot still did not have his guide patch, but the magic of this place gave him hope that new possibilities could exist, that will alone could be a force to save them.

  Pain spread through Tannen once again. He bounced and spun and something snapped, sending an arrow of pain through his body. His cry formed slowly and without control. Fear, found a voice. He crumbled and found himself hitting the wall and turning once again to look into the room. The door was closing, but it had not yet fully shut. Ansti remained at the centre of the par-born as they swarmed in orbit around him. They moved clockwise, seeming to occupy a space larger than the room itself. It was at once beautiful and horrifying, and as Tannen stared he noticed that Ansti was also moving. He had begun to spin counterclockwise. Tannen tried to imagine what these weightless acrobatics meant, and his wondering was joined by the presence of another. Ashur was back, the guide patch feeding him Tannen’s view and feelings.

  Tannen felt Ashur’s jolt of shock as he registered what was in view. Then there was a sudden realignment of focus and a bolt of fear that felt different from Tannen’s own. Ashur had seen something that Tannen had not. Tannen sensed it even before Ashur found the words to say it, but when he heard Ashur speak he wondered how he could have missed something so obvious.

  “Suns-shine-dark Tannen, what is happening in there, and where is the vehicle? Tannen, it’s not docked and I don’t see it anywhere. Where in this mess of existence is the vehicle?”

  Ashur was as close to hysteria as Tannen had ever heard him. He had lost his almost permanent self control. That in itself was a sign, if any more was needed, that their situation was perilous. Not only was their pilot in the thrall of a multitude of alien creatures, but now it appeared that the means by which their ship thought and felt was gone. It left them adrift in nowhere with no means of escape, imprisoned in an absence of all things except themselves.r />
  Chapter 17.

  At first there was only one view. He drifted alone, sensing the void outside and the thoughts and feelings inside. This one view was comforting in the dark empty space he had been taken to, and for as long as he was allowed he clung to it; his lifeboat in the liquid black above and below. But just as his first life had started with division and multiplication, so did this second one. Like the first binary splitting of cell into cell, he felt himself become plural, suddenly regarding himself from both inside and outside. In that moment he felt his ego dissolve. It popped and faded away, leaving him at once perfectly objective and subjective. Fear and love and hate and desire dissolved, and free from his concerns he reached out into the void and found others there.

  Those who had brought him here were distant, hovering at the edge of perception, just watching and waiting. He knew they had provided the catalyst for the change that now controlled his destiny, and it was seductive to neither care nor abstain from caring. He was evolving fast and that was what occupied his senses.

  While emotion faded, memory remained. He knew what it was to be in one body. He let himselves delve into that memory and found it a shockingly small and bleak space, full of miniature wants and needs. The instinctive emotions and selfish thoughts of his former self had created prison walls. From the perspective of his new selves it was clear how restricted he had been by a mind he barely understood. His desires had once gripped him with psychotic force, and he had thought himself enlightened, chosen and trained to be special. Now that way of being seemed primitive and he was pleased that it was a memory. He remembered the recent fear and exhilaration of battle, and tried to recreate the emotions. He could not. While the feelings were part of his past, he no longer had the means to generate such emotions in response to such inconsequential events. He had moved beyond life and death as motivation.