by Kasch, Andy
Brandon slept much of the time in the days following the snakebite. The villagers, whom Madkin3 had initially warned about not being “warm and friendly,” turned out to be quite warm and friendly after all. They were always coming by his cabin to check on him, forcing him to get up and walk to meals, often helping him along and insisting he needed to move about to help with the healing process. One of them even gave him a hand-carved walking stick as a gift.
On the fourth day, Brandon was feeling refreshed and energetic again. The snakebite wound was healing and had become only a minor annoyance, although he still used the walking stick, partly because he liked it. All the villagers seemed to suddenly have great respect for Brandon.
“Serpent venom was once intentionally ingested by Sheen as part of a traditional ceremony,” Madkin3 said to him after dinner. “In small doses, of course. In times past, Sheen would study the law after taking a dose of venom. It was said to give the law life and animation, making it easier to comprehend.”
“I experienced something like that myself,” Brandon said. “I cannot read your language, but the words carved on the rock were coming out of it. Why did your people dispense with that tradition?”
Madkin3 cocked his head. “I suppose if all ancient traditions survived, there would be no revered historic periods. Yes, we witnessed your transformation as the pillar saved you. The law has now been imputed to your heart. Rarely have we heard such harmony in a verbal manifestation of the primary Erob principals. It could only have come from someone with no prior knowledge or training in the written law, but whose heart has been aligned with it. You have been blessed with wisdom, as you stated, but we have been blessed with this visitation, through you.”
“You think it was the rock that saved me?”
“Yes. More specifically, your willingness to focus on the rock, and your rejection of death’s seduction.”
Brandon felt these Sheen were giving him too much credit. It was their attendance and medical aid which saved him, if anything. Still, Madkin3’s words did resonate with him at some level. If Brandon had allowed his mind to drift off into the colorful sky, instead of heeding Madkin3’s instructions to focus, he wondered whether he would be here now. Something inside him told him he wouldn’t.
“I want to thank you all for your help and hospitality,” Brandon said. “I’m a stranger here, far from home, and your kindness is invaluable to me. I regret that I am unable to repay you. If there is some work I can do…”
Madkin3 held up a hand. “You have already repaid us in ways you cannot understand. We feel it is we who owe you a debt, in fact.” The other Sheen at the table nodded and muttered agreements.
“However,” Madkin3 continued, “if you were to remain with us, I would recommend you begin ingesting venom, in very small doses, in an attempt to build up a tolerance to it.”
“I’m sure that would be wise,” Brandon said, “but I don’t know how much longer I’ll be here.”
“Yes, I understand,” Madkin3 said. “But you are most welcome to live among us, should your path lead you to return. You should spend some time rebalancing now, for the duration of your visit.”
Balance again. He should have guessed. It was what the Sheen were all about. Brandon offered a cordial smile.
“Certainly,” he said. “Whatever you suggest. What did you have in mind?”
“Come with me.” Madkin3 stood up.
Brandon got up and followed him. Several of the Sheen came along as well. They walked toward the back side of the village. Brandon found himself becoming tense as they drew close to the place where he was bitten, but then they turned right and ended up in the area he had never made it to. There was a large hut near a fire ring. When they came close to it, Brandon could see the hut was actually a tent made of a tan-colored cloth. From a distance, it would appear to be just another simple structure in the village.
Two of the Sheen entered the tent through a slit in the side, and then reappeared from the inside pulling the cloth back. It opened like a shower curtain along rails at the top. They slid the covering all the way around so the three sides were open, with just the roof cover remaining and the drawn tent cloth serving as a backdrop to a familiar, glowing object.
“The halcyon arc!” Brandon said.
Madkin3 nodded. “The other one, yes.”
Brandon remembered now. Arkan9 had mentioned the existence of one other. So, the Landen Sheen kept theirs hidden inside a tent, but could unveil it when they wished. That practice seemed wise, considering what happened to the arc at Uden. It was already glowing brightly, however, and no one was even close to it yet. Also, this one had a greenish color to its glow, not yellowish like the one at Uden.
“I’m afraid these things don’t like me much,” Brandon said. “They always light up like a star whenever I get anywhere near them.”
“That glow is not from you,” Madkin3 said. “It’s been doing that since the day of the attack. We don’t know why. Some of us feel it is strained from the removal of its counterpart.”
“It knows the other one was stolen?”
“That’s the most popular theory. Another is that wherever the other has been taken, it is now under a severe workload. Their energy is connected. We don’t understand how. These instruments are of Erob.”
“Where is Erob?” Brandon asked.
“Very near the center of the galaxy.”
“Isn’t there a black hole there?”
“If that is how you refer to it, yes. We believe their world exists on the verge of the vanishing point. It cannot be seen on scopes, or observed with any type of technology, probably because it is so close to the edge. It cannot, therefore, be safely approached either, although attempting such a thing would be a violation of Erob law, aside being a fool’s errand.”
Brandon felt himself drawn to the halcyon arc. Madkin3 must have sensed this as well, as he stepped out of the way and extended his arm towards it. Brandon wasn’t quite ready yet, however.
“You haven’t had contact with Erob now in …how long? Hundreds of years?”
“More than nineteen hundred years.”
“Madkin3, isn’t it possible their world was sucked into the black hole, perhaps as the event horizon expanded? And that’s why no one has heard from them in so long?”
“There are those among the native Torians who choose to speculate such grim things, but we Sheen know better. The prophets foretold of all this long ago. The law neither lapses nor weakens, but the untethered heart tends to, especially when swayed by an unbalanced mind. Two thousand years is not such a long time, when Erob has existed for many millennia. There has been no reason for them to initiate any further interaction after the coalition was fully established, and the Erob seed had been planted among us. They may reappear someday when and if the need arises. Meanwhile, we have the law, and we have the teachers of the law, who keep themselves pure. We feel the halcyon arcs are a sign of Erob continuance. The arcs have no power of their own—no substructure, no working parts. Their energy comes directly from Erob.”
Brandon nodded. That did seem to be compelling evidence. It was interesting how most of Torian society now regarded the arc as nothing more than an ancient religious relic, a superstition from ages past. Yet, there it was, glowing of its own power, with no explainable source for that power other than what had been believed and accepted for two thousand years.
Brandon approached the arc and sat before it. As he did, a faint yellow light appeared just inside the green glow that was emanating from the rim. Brandon felt …good. Several other Sheen sat down nearby him. Brandon closed his eyes. Tranquility ensued. He wasn’t bored, and he didn’t feel like going anywhere or doing anything. It was wonderfully fulfilling just to sit there. He pictured the stress of the space battle and the pain of the snakebite washing away as he embraced a sense of renewal.
Several hours went by. Brandon finally opened his eyes. It was dark, except for the halcyon arc, which was glowing only green now. Br
andon was alone under the tent top. He must have fallen asleep there.
The center of the arc then became misty, as if there were a fog inside it. That was new. Then the mist cleared. An image could now be seen there, instead of just the tent cloth behind it. It was a figure—a human, a man with a full beard wearing monk’s robes.
It was Derek.
Brandon was almost certain he was awake now, but the scene before him was dreamlike. The halcyon arc was displaying a three dimensional picture inside of it. It was like a video, only the depth was much more realistic. It looked like Brandon could step through the arc and be where Derek was. Brandon looked around him desperately, seeking clarification from a Sheen, or at least wanting to get a witness. Nobody was around. He turned back to the arc.
Derek was now staring directly at him, through the arc, with a disturbed look on his face. Behind him was an interesting landscape. It was daytime there, and unique rusty-red rock formations stood majestically behind him. They reminded Brandon again of things he had seen in the Utah state parks.
Derek’s face drew closer to the frame of the ark. His eyes were looking directly into Brandon’s now. It was as if he were peering into the stolen halcyon arc, wherever he was, and could see Brandon just as well as he could see Derek.
Brandon raised one of his hands and made the peace sign. Derek returned it. Then, the middle of the arc became misty again. The mist cleared, and there was no more image—just the tan curtain behind it and the greenish glow along the inside of the rim.
Was this real? Or was Brandon still asleep and dreaming? He stood up and walked outside the tent area. Two Sheen were sitting by a campfire a little ways away. When they saw Brandon, they got up, came over, and asked if he was finished for the evening.
“Um …yes. Is Madkin3 still here?”
“No,” one of them replied. “He is sleeping. We will show you back to your lodging.”
The two Sheen closed up the tent around the arc, walked Brandon back to his cabin, and left him there. Brandon went to bed. He fell asleep thinking about Derek.
The next morning, Madkin3 approached him as he was finishing breakfast.
“Did you sleep well?” Madkin3 asked.
“Yes,” Brandon said. “Every night. Daytime naps, too. I have never slept so well as here in your village. Sometimes I have strange dreams, though.”
“All dreams are strange,” Madkin3 said, “but very often the ones remembered are meaningful.”
Brandon told him about his vision of Derek in the halcyon arc last night. Madkin3 seemed greatly interested in the experience. He thought for a while before offering a possible explanation.
“Your friend who was taken along with the other arc might well be with the arc. You suspect the vision to be a dream, as it occurred between periods of sleep. It may well have been, but perhaps it was not. It doesn’t really matter. A true vision can occur whether awake or asleep. We have no record of the arc behaving in such a manner before, but they have never before been separated like this, and the arc we still have with us is now behaving differently than it ever has. The vision may have been real.”
“If it was real,” Brandon asked, “am I supposed to learn something from it, or be directed somehow?”
“Yes, as all true visions have a purpose. We cannot help you discern what that purpose is, however. You will have to discover it for yourself.”
Brandon was a little disappointed in those explanations. They weren’t much help. He leaned back in his chair and looked up. The morning sun was warm, but there were some wispy clouds hanging around. Perhaps today would not be so hot.
Just then, he saw a flare streak across the sky, directly overhead. “Meteor,” Brandon mumbled. He looked back to Madkin3, who was now also looking up at the sky.
“No,” Madkin3 said. “That is probably your friend, Mip7, returning. I received a message that he would be coming for you today. Come. It’s time to go to the meeting place.”
“Meeting place?”
“He is not arriving in the same manner as before. Come. You’ll see.”
Brandon got up and followed Madkin3. Several of the other Sheen came along also. They all mounted yuquin at the same stable Brandon and Mip7 had arrived at. Their small procession rode out along the northern ridge a ways, but then descended into the plain beyond it. It was hot again. Brandon kept a watchful eye for serpents and was ready with the fishing laser if he needed it. He kept looking about him in the air, determined that none of the flying type would swoop in on him.
What he saw instead was a large object descending from the sky, over the plain ahead of them. It was a spacecraft. As it approached, Brandon could see it was a flying saucer, what the Torians referred to as a landing craft, the same type he had seen dock in one of the interstellar transport ships in orbit above this planet. The ship slowed down as it descended, until it was hovering above the desert floor in the distance.
It landed. A section of it opened on the side, and a ramp extended from the opening to the ground. Figures appeared in the opening and walked down the ramp. Brandon and his party were still too far away to see them clearly, and there was a little dust blowing in the air obstructing his vision. But he could tell there were six of them. One of them was taller than the rest.
“There’s your ride,” Madkin3 said.
Brandon squinted, but still could not make out the figures in the distance. As they rode closer, Brandon was able to determine that only one of them was tall enough to be Mip7. But who were the others? He hoped there wasn’t going to be any trouble. Last he had heard, the military was out to find him. But Brandon had not seen any other natives who were that much shorter, so perhaps they were Sheen. For one fleeting, irrational second Brandon flashed on the idea that Derek was there among them. But no—that wasn’t possible, was it?
They rode up to the ship and the dust in the breeze cleared. Brandon could see them clearly now, but he was afraid to believe his eyes. There was Mip7, walking out in front to greet them. But the figures standing behind him—they were men! Humans! How could this be?
Brandon dismounted and took off running. Within seconds, he had reached Mip7. He grabbed ahold of one of his leathery forearms with both his hands and began shaking it with more strength than he knew he had.
“I’ve never been so glad to see a lizard-man!” he said. “Thanks for coming back! But what’s going on?” He looked behind Mip7 at the men. “Who are these?”
“These are your brethren, Brandon. Come, let me introduce you.”
“You succeeded! You got them to free more Earthlings!”
“Yes,” Mip7 said, “thanks to you. And it happened just as you said it would. You’ve made powerful friends, Brandon. Don’t ask me how, but what you said would happen is starting to happen.”
“How many?”
“Twenty three—for now, anyway. These five have adapted the fastest, and show the most promise. I couldn’t wait to see the look on your face when I showed up here with them. I’m not disappointed.”
The five humans were just standing there, looking around. They did not seem particularly excited to be meeting Brandon. Two of them were staring at the Sheen and the yuquin, squinting. The others were looking about in every direction. Brandon and Mip7 moved closer to them.
“Guys, this is Brandon Foss, of…”
“Virginia,” Brandon said. “I’m from Virginia.”
Two of them muttered a greeting, two of them nodded, and the other just kept looking around. Three of them were dressed in renaissance fair clothes, the other two in disco outfits. A couple of them looked no older than twenty. Brandon could understand why they weren’t thrilled to be introduced. They had just been revived, and were probably still highly suspicious. For all they knew, Brandon could be part of the conspiracy that had disrupted their lives and brought them here. Plus, they already had a small crowd of human companions. What’s another one to them?
“And the year 2012,” Brandon added. Now they were all looking at him.
The Sheen rode up and joined them. Mip7 turned to Madkin3 and asked, “How’s he doing?”
“Excellent,” Madkin3 replied. “Perhaps even better than we are. Your friend has a special strength.”
“That much all of Tora is beginning to be aware of,” Mip7 said. “Or at least, they should.”
Brandon walked over to Madkin3 and extended his hand upward. Madkin3 leaned down on his animal and grasped Brandon’s hand.
“I owe you my life,” Brandon said. “And so much more. Thank you.”
“We have been honored by your presence,” Madkin3 said. “Now Brandon, listen. Believe in your visions and follow them, but lead a balanced life, always. Make wisdom your constant companion. Strive to understand the difference between your true instincts and contrived impulses. Do that and there can be no regrets, come what may.”
Brandon nodded and released his hand. He turned back to Mip7.
“Are you driving that thing?”
“No.” Mip7 laughed. “There’s a standard crew on board.”
“What’s next?” Brandon asked.
Mip7 stopped laughing. “We have a job to do.”
Brandon gave him a thumbs up. He was finally going to get to ride in a flying saucer.
* * *
“No women?” Brandon asked.
“You don’t have time for those yet,” Mip7 said. “Let’s get this task done, and then we’ll talk to Olut6 about reviving some females for you in the next batch. Assuming we come back alive.”
“What about Director Markin1? Is he cooperating with us now?”
Mip7 shook his head. “No. I would say he is more uncooperative than ever, in fact. I’ll tell you about him over an argim, when we find the time.”
They were back at Cardinal-4, on one of the upper decks, sitting a large room surrounded by Torians, most of whom were fighter pilots. The five additional humans were sitting with Brandon and Mip7. The room was set up as an auditorium, so everyone was facing forward, waiting for Commander Olut6 to step up to the podium and speak. This was the big moment, the initial briefing on the hostage rescue operation, and the ones in this room were those who would carry it out. Brandon was actually excited to be here at this historic moment among the privileged few on this faraway world. He realized the irony of it, but he nevertheless found himself caught up in the feeling of Torian pride that surrounded him. He did, after all, have a horse in this race himself, and maybe even a personal score to settle.