Dark Matter

by S. W. Ahmed

  A scanning of the entire horizon through the viewer revealed nothing unusual. He turned around to face the icy wall of the mountain, and waved his hand. A small door immediately took shape and slid open, revealing a passage behind. As he began walking down the steps of a narrow, dimly lit tunnel of ice, he waved his hand again, and the door behind him sealed shut.

  “Today I will speak my mind,” he kept saying to himself between his long strides. He had had enough of this place, enough of staring at blizzards, enough of sitting around and doing nothing. He had spoken his mind on multiple occasions before, but today he was determined to put his foot down to get what he wanted. Today his patience had finally run out.

  The steps went straight downwards for a mile or so, right into the heart of the mountain. At the end of the tunnel, he reached another door, which automatically slid open as he approached. The chamber beyond was made of rock, not ice. The ceiling was very high, offering a glimpse of the rocky interior of the mountain. A few dim lamps on the walls kept the place from sinking into absolute darkness. The air inside was very stale, almost as if it hadn’t received a gust of fresh air in a hundred years.

  The chamber was not particularly large, but had enough space to comfortably fit more than 20 Aftarans. There were only seven Aftarans inside, sitting quietly in a semi-circle on the ground, deep in meditation. They all wore the same brown robes, with their heads and faces covered just like Dumyan. Behind them, at the other end of the chamber, was another door identical to the one Dumyan had just walked through.

  As the door shut behind him, Dumyan walked towards the center of the chamber. Facing the semi-circle, he sat down in a crouching position.

  “I see nothing,” he announced in Mareefi, the most widely spoken language in the Aftaran Dominion. His voice was strong and distinctly masculine, and his pace of talking quite fast.

  “Nothing indeed, my Son,” was the slow response from the Aftaran in the middle. “It is only a matter of time until they strike again.” His voice was hoarse, like that of a very old man, and yet it also had a deep, authoritative tone. His name was Autamrin, and he was Dumyan’s father.

  “May the Creator protect us from harm,” all the other Aftarans murmured in unison right away.

  “Has Kabur reported back yet?” Autamrin asked.

  “Not yet, my Lord,” another Aftaran said. Her name was Birshat, of the 618th generation of the Jalabar clan.

  Silence shrouded the room again, as everybody slumped back into meditation.

  Dumyan sat still for a while, before deciding to speak. “Why should we wither away here in darkness like this?”

  Autamrin’s head rose. “Patience, my Son,” he said calmly, “time is on our side, not on theirs.”

  “No, Father, time is not on our side,” Dumyan retorted. “Our reliance on time and patience has led us here to this cage of isolation. Meanwhile, Wazilban and his band of thugs continue to forge their grand schemes, unchecked and unchallenged.”

  “Nay, my Son, the Creator watches them as well. Surely they will be challenged when the time is right.”

  “Ay, Father, but will the Creator help those who don’t help themselves?”

  Another Aftaran spoke for the first time. “Are you doubting our Father’s word?” His name was Sharjam, and he was Autamrin’s other son. His voice sounded similar to Dumyan’s, but the pace of talking was slower.

  Dumyan turned to face his younger brother. “No, but I doubt the wisdom of complacence. In this life, you have to fight for justice. You have to fight to regain what is yours.”

  “We must await the Sign!” Sharjam replied angrily.

  “Ah yes, the Sign! Two years have we waited here, two years have we spent in hiding. Where is it?”

  “Only the Creator knows of the exact time. It is our duty to solemnly wait with patience.”

  “That is but an excuse, an excuse for inaction,” Dumyan said, shaking his head. “You interpret the words of the Scriptures for your own benefit.”

  “It’s no ‘interpretation’, as you call it,” Sharjam countered. “The words are as plain and clear as the air on Meenjaza. There can be no victory for us before the appointed time. If you choose to be foolhardy enough to fight for the sake of fighting, even when you know with certainty that you’ll lose, then go on your own and sacrifice your life for nothing. But don’t accuse the rest of us of cowardice!”

  “Honestly, what logic justifies waiting for something we know nothing of? How does it look, how does it smell, or feel, or taste? Is it this stone over here?” Dumyan reached out and picked up a gray pebble from the ground. “Or is it the stale air in this chamber? Or maybe the surveyors are our signs, each one more deadly than the last. Or is it you yourself, a dismal warning of the depths of futility our race might stoop to?”

  Sharjam rose and stood in front of his brother. With a whisk of his hand, the veil around his face came free and magically disappeared into the rest of his robe. His face now stood bare, but the head remained covered.

  “Arise, you heretic!” he roared. “How dare you question the Scriptures!”

  Dumyan got up and revealed his face as well. “How dare you challenge me, you insolent little poltroon!” he roared back, taking a step towards his slightly shorter brother. Their faces were very similar, with identical looking eyes and beaks. Thin, tan colored feathers covered the skin on both their faces. The untrained eye could easily mistake them for twins.

  “Stop now!” Autamrin ordered, raising his voice as he dropped his veil as well. His face, though similar to those of his sons, was much older, with his eyes drooping and his feathers gray. “If your mother were still alive, you would surely have broken her heart with your constant bickering. And as long as I am still alive, by the power of the Creator, there shall be no bloodshed amongst us.”

  Dumyan and Sharjam reluctantly sat down, their faces still flushed with contempt for each other.

  Autamrin went on. “You have both sworn to uphold with your lives the values our beloved forefathers taught us. Indeed, it’s what we all swore to do, and that is the sole purpose of our lives. Our goal is one and the same. We cannot afford to fight amongst ourselves. Our enemy is too powerful, our own forces too weak.”

  Both brothers were silent.

  “Lord Wazilban is no fool,” Autamrin continued. “Do you honestly think that pure determination to act will be enough to defeat him? He has cornered us completely, with no room for us to move even an inch.”

  “How our people have forgotten us, my Lord,” Birshat said with a sigh.

  “Nay, they haven’t forgotten,” Autamrin replied comfortingly. “They have just been blinded. Fear and paranoia have taken over the Dominion. The majority now blindly follow Wazilban’s policies of belligerence to defeat our growing number of enemies. Yet they overlook the self-fulfilling prophecy that he himself is the cause of that growth. They don’t realize there is no end to this perpetual cycle of death and destruction on all sides.”

  Dumyan grunted. “Which is why I say, Father, that we must arise and expose Wazilban for what he is. We have to take back the throne!”

  “We will, my Son, all in due course.”

  “But it is this inaction, this passiveness, that has allowed Wazilban to corner us like this. We must take the upper hand and start determining our own fate!”

  “We lead our lives by the Scriptures,” Sharjam said, “not by overzealous, youthful whims of adventure. And the Scriptures tell us to wait for the Sign!”

  Before Dumyan could open his mouth again, Sharjam made a gesture at a young Aftaran sitting on the edge of the semi-circle. “Zeena, show us the first four verses in the 38th chapter of the Hidden Scripture.”

  Zeena lowered the veil around her face and stretched out her left hand, revealing a silver coin-like object on her palm. It glowed dimly in the darkness of the chamber. With a finger on her right hand, she touched the edge of the coin, and ran the finger lightly around the circumference. As soon as she had completed the ful
l circle, the coin turned golden and began to glow brilliantly. Beautiful calligraphy in bright golden letters suddenly appeared in thin air, about 3 feet above the coin and in full view of everybody seated in the room. The light from the letters of the Scripture instantly brightened up the whole chamber.

  The text was written in Altareezyan, the ancient script that all the revered Aftaran Scriptures were written in. It said:

  Behold, you who are virtuous!

  On the eve of Hawfa in the midst of Jemola

  Shall the calamity arise from within,

  From the likes of your own,

  From the depths of treachery and deception,

  Tremendous suffering shall they inflict upon all.

  Few shall you be who withstand the storm of evil,

  Outcast and persecuted shall you find yourselves,

  Powerless against the might of darkness,

  Yet the fate of all will be in your hands.

  When the Sign advances in the darkest hour,

  Arise, unite, and shun your differences.

  Fight the forces of evil and drive them away,

  And take back what is rightfully yours.

  Hasten not its startling advent,

  For it follows not your command.

  Hasten not to act without it,

  For you will fail in your quest.

  But delay not when it comes,

  For it shall not linger.

  “You see for yourself how clear it is,” Sharjam said, as the text faded away.

  “Yes!” Dumyan exclaimed. “It’s clear that evil is encompassing us from all sides, and we must fight it if we want to survive! It doesn’t give us a clue what this Sign is or where to look for it.”

  “It says the Sign shall find us. We need not seek it.”

  “It also says the Sign will not wait for us. Prove to me that we haven’t already missed it.”

  Sharjam was about to open his mouth again, but Autamrin spoke first. “It is not our position to interpret the verses of the Hidden Scripture. We could continue to argue for years about this without reaching a conclusion. Only the Eminent Ouria or one of her High Clerics could have given us an authoritative answer. But alas, Wazilban knew that only too well.”

  “We failed them, Father,” Dumyan said. “We failed to protect them. Now we mustn’t fail to protect ourselves.”

  Autamrin was silent for a moment. Finally, he said, “I am old, my Son. I no longer have the strength to fight in battle.”

  “I’m not asking you to fight, or to even leave this chamber. I’m asking you to let me leave, to go and find help, so that we can fight for our survival!” He looked at the others in the room. “I have a plan to get off this planet. My…”

  Sharjam interrupted him. “Off this planet? How? Wazilban’s surveyors will hunt you down before you even set foot off this mountain. The same reason we don’t use any communication equipment between here and the surface of the mountain.”

  Dumyan ignored Sharjam. “My goal is to head straight to the Mendoken border and to seek asylum in the Republic. If I can convince the Mendoken to help us, then with their military might we can defeat Wazilban!”

  Sharjam laughed, making a croaking sound. “The Mendoken are in cahoots with Wazilban! Why should they help us?”

  “No, my Son,” Autamrin said right away, raising his hand to silence Sharjam. “Do not speak ill of the Mendoken. So many times in the past have they helped us. They are just too honest and straightforward to understand Wazilban’s treacherous ways. They deal with him because they have to, not because they like him or are in cahoots with him. They don’t know the details of how he came to power or of how he’s trying to destroy us. And even if we had evidence to show them, their strict policies of non-interference in the internal affairs of other species would prevent them from helping us.”

  “It’s clear that they haven’t been helping Lord Wazilban either,” another of the Aftarans added. “If they had, one of their planet destroyers would surely have obliterated Tibara by now in their efforts to find and kill us.”

  Autamrin nodded. “And they’re busy with their own war against the Volona. In the end, we’re on our own. No, Dumyan, I can’t let you take such a huge risk.”

  “May the Creator protect us from harm,” the others murmured quietly, while Dumyan threw his hands up in the air in frustration.

  At that moment, the door behind them burst open, and another Aftaran rushed in.

  “Kabur!” Sharjam exclaimed, standing up and turning around to face the newcomer. “Why such haste?”

  “A surveyor approaches from the south!” Kabur blurted, trying to regain his breath from the fast sprint down the long tunnel from the surface.

  “How far?” Dumyan asked.

  “It was already creeping over the nearest mountain towards us when I left my post.”

  Everybody got up immediately.

  “Quick, everyone hide!” Autamrin ordered.

  The Aftarans rushed to remove the lamps from the walls, then moved to one side of the chamber and stood in a straight line parallel to the wall. With a signal from Autamrin, they all pushed against the wall together with their shoulders. With a creaking sound, little compartments opened up at the points where the shoulders touched the wall, each one big enough to house a single Aftaran. After the Aftarans had slipped into their compartments, the openings automatically sealed shut. No slits or cuts were visible in the wall after the closure – it looked absolutely solid.

  The chamber was now bare and quiet, with no sign of any inhabitance. And then it happened. The sound came first – a deep hum, getting louder as it drew closer. The ground began to shake next, the tremor growing rapidly to that of a minor earthquake. Small rocks fell to the ground from the ceiling, causing dust to rise into the air. Finally the rear door, the same door through which Kabur had just entered the room, burst open.

  A white cloud flowed in and quickly filled up the whole room. Inside the cloud were hundreds of globules of yellow light, dancing around in all directions. Each globule actually had the features of an Aftaran face, with the eyes, nose and mouth clearly visible. The faces seemed to be looking for something, exploring every corner of the room and analyzing every crack in the walls. They spent a lot of time combing the wall that Autamrin and his companions were hiding behind, seemingly suspicious of its contents.

  But they appeared to find nothing. Eventually the cloud began to move out through the other door, the one that Dumyan had entered through earlier. It was a long procession, taking several minutes for the last few faces at the end of the cloud to pass through the door. The tremor began to subside, and the loud hum diminished as the cloud moved further away. The chamber was in darkness once again.

  This cloud was a surveyor, one of the mightiest and most sinister weapons possessed by the Aftar. The moment even one of the faces encountered what they were looking for, the game would be over. A small group of those light globules would break away and head back to the surveyor’s dispatcher at high speed to report their findings. The rest of the cloud would then ignite itself, causing a massive explosion that would instantly obliterate anything within a 10 mile radius.

  Time passed, while the dust in the chamber settled. Eventually, the wall’s compartments opened up and the hiding Aftarans cautiously stepped out.

  Birshat brushed off the dust from her robe. “That was a close call this time.”

  “Indeed it was,” Autamrin agreed. “Wazilban’s noose around our necks tightens by the day.” He looked down at the ground, deep in thought.

  “Father, let me go, please!” Dumyan implored. “It’s the only way, our only hope. It’s only a matter of time before the surveyors will be able to see through these walls.”

  Autamrin stood still for what felt like an eternity to Dumyan, before finally speaking. “Very well, my Son, you may go. But only under one condition.”

  Dumyan felt a wave of relief. His time had finally come. “Name it, Father.”

  “T
hat you take Sharjam with you.”

  “What!” That exclamation came from both brothers at the same time.

  “That’s the condition, otherwise you may not go,” Autamrin said firmly.

  “My Lord, what is the wisdom behind this decision?” Birshat asked. “Won’t they battle each other to death, even before they reach the surface of the mountain?”

  Autamrin smiled. “Strange are the ways of the Creator, that I should have been given two sons who have constantly fought with each other since their childhood. But the Creator never does anything without a purpose.

  “Dumyan and Sharjam, you two will herewith leave this chamber, this mountain, this planet, and will search for help. Where you go and whom you ask for help, I leave to you. I don’t know if you’ll find the Sign, or if you’ll succeed in convincing the Mendoken to help us. What I do know is that the Creator has blessed you both with tremendous courage, brilliance and intuition, and I have full faith in your abilities.

  “Your differences will always complement each other. Dumyan, when you jump to action without thinking, Sharjam will hold you back and plan a strategy first. Sharjam, when you hesitate in crisis, Dumyan will give you the courage and push you forward.

  “Through it all, I hope and pray that you’ll finally come to understand each other, and that you’ll develop the love and trust between yourselves that your mother and I always longed for.”

  “But Father, why such a change in you?” Sharjam protested.

  “It’s not a change, my Son. It’s a decision I made over a year ago. One whose execution I’ve dreaded for so long, trying to avoid it with many an excuse. But now, I fear I no longer can.”

  Sharjam opened his mouth again to speak, but Autamrin cut him off. “No more discussion. Now go! May the Creator protect you both from harm.”

  Dumyan bowed in front of his father, glanced at Birshat and headed towards the door.