The Glorious Becoming (Epic)

by Lee Stephen

  “Why is he staring at me like that?”

  Scott sighed heavily. “He’s never seen a black person. He hasn’t seen many women, either. Now calm down.”

  “If he starts feeling me up, Scott, I swear to God—”

  “Good grief, Ess, he’s an alien, not a sex offender.” Taking hold of her arm, Scott tried to push her closer; she dug in her heels. “Tell him your name.”

  “You already told him my name.”

  “I want you to tell him your name.”

  “But I don’t want to tell him my name.”

  Scott eyed her warningly.

  “Fine!” Shoving Scott away, Esther looked flatly at Tauthin. “Esther. My name is bloody Esther.”

  Tauthin looked her over. “Blaady Estaar.”

  Her face deadpanned. “Not bloody Esther. Just Esther!”

  “Well, you told him bloody Esther, so now you’re bloody Esther,” said Scott, shaking his head. “That’s just terrific.”

  “No!” she glared in retort. “It’s creepy enough having a Bakma saying my name, let alone attaching a bloody to it.”

  “Then act like an adult and tell him again.”

  Grumbling under her breath, the scout eyed Tauthin again. “My name is Esther.”

  The Bakma slowly nodded. “Estaar.”

  “No. My name is Esther.”

  “Estaar.”

  “Es-ther. Esther. Not Estaar, with this big aar in it. Esther.”

  Scott rolled his eyes. “He didn’t come from Cambridge, Ess, he’s an alien. Estaar is fine. It’s closer to your name than Remata is to mine.”

  “Vilaash Tauthinilaas,” said Tauthin.

  “Tauthinilaas,” Esther repeated. “I can say that just fine, and he can’t say Esther without sounding like a sodding pirate?”

  “Not even Sveta complained this much.”

  Esther made a face. “Oh, I’m sure she loved it. I saw her patching up that purple chimp on the battlefield—she’s a proper sympathizer. By the way, I killed more than a few on that mission. Did you care to notice that?”

  “Ess...”

  “Just pointing out the obvious. Where’s the bloody gray? I want to get this over with.”

  The gray Esther was referring to was Ei`dorinthal, or Ed as those in Confinement called him. He was an Ithini of fairly cooperative nature, so far as the typically bull-headed Ithini were concerned. Ed was the whole reason Esther was there.

  Ever since the incident in the forests—Scott’s negotiation with a Bakma via Ithini connection and the subsequent rescue of Captain Gabriel and Pelican Squad—he’d been determined to have each member of the Fourteenth connect with an Ithini in the safety of Novosibirsk Confinement. Scott’s first connection had made him violently ill, resulting in his passing out on the battlefield. The thought of any of his operatives losing their awareness, and their stomachs, due to an unexpected Ithini connection was too big a risk. One by one, he’d been bringing members of the Fourteenth into Confinement to experience a connection for the first time. It had taken Scott only two connections with Tauthin to completely rid himself of all ill effects. Now, his connections were seamless.

  Despite the fascination Scott felt in sharing a mental bridge with an alien, not all of his comrades had been thrilled about the prospect. Esther had been one of his staunchest holdouts. On a day when Scott wanted nothing more than to distract himself from the drama of Viktor and Varvara, the prospect of breaking Esther in had all the fun potential of a grade school field trip.

  Behind them, Ed the Ithini marched obediently into the cell. He was what the chief scientist, Petrov, called an IB—an Ithini captured with the Bakma. According to Petrov, they differed greatly in intelligence and personality from ICs—those captured with Ceratopians.

  Ed may have been a cute moniker, but there was nothing cute about Ei`dorinthal. IB or IC, he was an Ithini nonetheless. Vast intelligence. Prone to vagueness. More prone to near-comatose despondency. The Ithini brain was an evolving, booby-trapped riddle. Even for a particularly cooperative specimen, such as Ed, deciphering the motivations and thought processes of any Ithini was a lesson in frustration. IBs were just the watered-down variety.

  Attached to the head of every captured Ithini—from Novosibirsk to Sydney—was a small cluster of wireless electrodes. Their purpose was simple: detect when the Ithini were using their telepathy. The section of their brain that controlled telepathy was under constant surveillance in the event that a captured Ithini attempted to conspire with fellow inmates. Whenever that section of their brain came to life, it registered on a computer console. If the activity was unpermitted, the Ithini was dealt with—harshly.

  As Ed neared them, Esther’s breathing increased. Scott placed his hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right. You’re braver than this.”

  “I don’t want my thoughts read,” she said, her voice shaking. “I don’t want to do this!”

  “It’s okay.” He squeezed her softly. “Just stay calm—Ed’s not going to violate anything. He’s just going to let you and Tauthin understand one another.”

  Wiping sweat from her forehead, she drew a deep breath. “Get it over with! Let’s just get it over—” Suddenly, she froze.

  A quick glimpse to Ed revealed the cause of Esther’s rigidness. The Ithini’s eyes were wide, focused. Just like that, Esther and Tauthin were connected.

  “Taku`ush nakai,” said Tauthin gruffly, tilting his head toward the scout. “Nuka’resh tavidaash da naas`dak shanuun, baka?”

  It was an odd place for Scott to be, in the role of observer, having no idea what the foreign language meant, though knowing that the connection brought understanding to the connected. He watched Esther closely.

  She swallowed and answered the alien. “I don’t know. It’s not about you. Can you even understand this?”

  “Gaas,” Tauthin said, nodding. “Nekiish tu-kish la daklaar’ash vaelan.”

  “This is so weird.” Esther’s words weren’t intended for the Bakma—they’d just been blurted out. “I feel it somewhat, I think. I can’t tell if...” Her expression suddenly changed. Disorientation was setting in. “Oh...”

  Scott knew the sensation Esther was feeling. It was as uncomfortable an experience as he’d ever been through. Esther’s hand swayed out, as if to steady herself. Scott grabbed her arm in support. “It’s all right. It’s normal.”

  “Nikaata`shto. Dukkenaash viraash kan?”

  The scout glared at the alien. “No, I’m not a different species!”

  “Vikoosh ka.”

  Grabbing Scott’s jersey, Esther leaned into his chest. “I think...I think...”

  Scott already knew. “Bucket! I need a bucket!”

  The scout began to gag.

  “Don’t puke on me, Brooking.”

  One of the scientists rushed into the cell, a wastebasket in hand. It was immediately set on the floor.

  Esther wasted no time. Leaving Scott’s grasp, she collapsed to the floor and stuck her head in the wastebasket. The vomiting began.

  Scott was surprised at how quickly Esther had lost it. I’m glad she did this now. This could have killed her in combat. Her vulnerability was concerning for more reasons than one. During several connections with Tauthin, Scott had caught Ed trying to dig deep into his thoughts. Perhaps it was nothing more than innocent curiosity, as all it took for Ed to relent was a sharp look from Scott. Nonetheless, it was a reminder to Scott that in the grand scheme of things, Ed—or any alien—couldn’t be trusted.

  Tears flowed down Esther’s cheeks. Her face was several shades paler.

  “All right,” Scott said, kneeling beside her. “You did good.”

  “I hate you, Scott Remington,” she cried.

  Scott handed her a handkerchief. “I know you do.” Different operatives had different willpowers when it came to connections. Scott had actually been one of the more strong-willed. As violent as his reaction to his first connection had been, the fact that he’d lasted as long as he had before p
assing out was a testament to his mental fortitude. Not everyone who experienced these connections passed out, but everyone did throw up at some point. According to Ed, the longer one was able to resist the impulse to vomit, the more resistant their mental state was. Though Scott hadn’t been keeping a record, he couldn’t remember anyone who’d vomited as quickly as Esther.

  The Briton swayed back and forth on her knees. “I don’t care if everyone else does this ten times, I am never doing this again! Ohhh...”

  Looking at Tauthin, Scott motioned at the alien’s cot. “Can she lie down?”

  The Bakma cleared the way. “Gaas.”

  “His germs will be on it,” Esther protested.

  “Shut up and get on the bed.”

  Swaying to her feet, Esther made her way to Tauthin’s cot. Climbing atop it, she curled into the fetal position.

  Scott felt Ed’s connection prick at his mind. He and Tauthin were linked.

  “Our connection was insignificant,” Tauthin said. “From all other connections with your people, I have learned. With her, I learned nothing.” He looked at Scott. “Why is her skin dark? Is she ill?”

  Scott sighed. “She’s a different race in our species.” This had the potential to be an awkward conversation, especially considering that Esther was lying right there. “Her race has darker skin.”

  “Does she differ biologically?”

  “It’s all aesthetic,” Scott answered. “Biologically, we’re the same.”

  Tauthin grunted. “You share this trait with the Golathoch. We have no such variations.” He stared at Esther, then looked back to Scott. “Have you procreated with this one?”

  That was one Scott hadn’t expected. “What? No, we haven’t procreated!”

  Esther groaned. “This day could not get any worse.”

  Time to change the subject. “We took another survivor. He said his name is Wuteel.” Scott looked across Confinement. Wuteel was standing alone in his cell, opaque eyes fixated on the events in Tauthin’s cell.

  “It is an engineer’s name,” said Tauthin. “It is common.”

  During the months Scott had spent talking to Tauthin, he’d learned several unique aspects of Bakmanese culture. Bakma names were apparently assigned several years after birth, according to whatever function the Bakma child would fulfill. As for any deeper explanation, such as what children were called prior to receiving a name, and why the only name functions Scott had ever heard of had been militaristic, Tauthin had given no answer. An answer was given, however, for Tauthin’s own name, Tauthinilaas. It was a name assigned to operational lords—the equivalent of human captains. Tauthin had been destined for leadership since being a child.

  For as much as Scott had learned about Tauthin personally, he’d learned very little of grand-scheme significance. In areas of the Alien War, Tauthin refused to disclose information. He’d learned nothing of Noboats and their chameleon technology. He’d learned nothing of plasma-based weaponry, or the specific role of the Ithini, or the origin of the canrassi or necrilid. For those failures, he blamed mostly himself. He rarely pushed for information when it wasn’t willfully provided.

  “Few species fight alongside females,” said Tauthin, staring at Esther. “Are they comparable as implements of war?”

  At Tauthin’s initial remark, Scott smiled slyly. Whether the Bakma realized it or not, it had tipped Scott off to something. It had acknowledged an awareness of multiple species, presumably beyond the Ithini and Ceratopians.

  “They are,” Scott answered. He resisted the urge to be chauvinistic. “Some are superior.” Tanneken Brunner came to mind, as did Esther herself. “Esther’s superior to many.” At mention of her name, the scout’s head turned a little. “How many species do you know, Tauthin?”

  Tauthin growled lowly—an all-too-human sign of frustration. “More than you have seen.”

  “Tell me one I haven’t seen.”

  Tauthin’s cheekbones shifted to protrude upward. It was one of many Bakmanese expressions that Scott had discovered. It was a sign of irritation.

  Scott felt the need to press, ever so gently. “Tell me one that fights with females, like we do. I just want a name.” Tauthin had already slipped up in acknowledging their existence. A name to go with it couldn’t hurt.

  Tauthin’s answer was grudging. “The Nerifinn.”

  “The Nerifinn fight with females?”

  “Their warriors are all females.”

  This was good. For the first time since he’d rescued Tauthin from the Walls of Mourning, he was actually getting some sort of answer. It had taken a slipup on Tauthin’s part to initiate it. “Tell me about them. Tell me what they look like. How do you know them?”

  “These things, I cannot disclose.”

  “Why can’t you disclose them? Because you aren’t allowed to?” That would mean the Bakma themselves were subservient to someone else.

  “Inquire no deeper, Remata.”

  How could he not inquire deeper? Ever since his Bakma negotiation months earlier, Scott had been searching for answers. Ever since those four words had been imprinted in his mind: interference, indication, allegiance, and judgment. Those were the four mystery words he’d been left with during the negotiation in the woods. We will bring you to Khuldaris. That phrase, too, had been spoken to him. What or who was Khuldaris?

  Scott had never brought up that negotiation in the woods with Tauthin. He’d never felt an appropriate time to reveal it. That time might have been now. “I have to inquire deeper, Tauthin.” Even the Bakma would have to understand the power of curiosity. “Asking questions is what makes our species grow.”

  “In due time, you will know all things.”

  Scott made his decision. The revelation card was played. “What is Khuldaris?”

  Tauthin’s whole body tensed. His gaze snapped to Scott, then behind him to Ed. Instantly, the connection was severed.

  “No!” Scott said at the sudden cut off. “Come on, Tauthin, talk to me!”

  An intense dialogue began between an animated Tauthin and Ed.

  “Makaash da`ra`vaash!” the Bakma snarled.

  “Jesjabai ya!”

  “Makaash da`ra`vaash!”

  As soon as Tauthin said the words, Scott felt the prick again. Ed was in his mind. But not for a connection. Memories suddenly flashed through Scott’s conscious.

  “You are unlike the warriors called EDEN.”

  The Bakma was referring to the Nightmen. To hear the Bakma refer to human military factions was...strange.

  “We are to bring you to Khuldaris, where you will be evaluated.”

  The minute Scott realized what was happening, he shot the Ithini a look of pure fury. Ed had searched his memory banks. Now that made Scott mad.

  Tauthin glared at Scott as their connection was reestablished. “You have connected with other Bakma. Why have you not told me?”

  “Did you just tell him to scan me?” Scott asked, his voice rising.

  “Answer the question, Remata.”

  “Did you just tell him to scan me?”

  Several scientists and guards hurried to the cell. The guards readied their weapons; Scott kept them at bay.

  “You toy with knowledge you should not possess,” bellowed Tauthin. “You seek answers for questions you should not know to ask. The things taking place all around you have been set in motion long before our arrival—we were but the thunder. To ask further of me is to betray my purpose. I am your enemy, sworn, ordained. I will not disclose to you things you were not meant to understand. Your presence here now is in error.”

  “Was it an error for me to take you alive during the assault?” Scott asked. “Was it an error to save you again when I could have let you die shamefully in the torture room?”

  “You know nothing of shame, Earthae.”

  Throwing his hands up, Scott said, “I’m not trying to be your enemy, Tauthin, I’m trying to understand you. I’m trying to make us understand each other!”

 
Tauthin’s cheekbones were on the verge of coming through his skin. “Understanding is inconsequential! Your world will fall as all worlds have fallen—as all worlds will fall. You will be judged as all have been judged.”

  “As who has been judged?”

  “As we have been judged!”

  As they had been judged. They—the Bakma. Suddenly, Tauthin grew quiet.

  “You’re subservient, aren’t you?” asked Scott. Tauthin’s eyes shifted to Ed; Scott shot the Ithini a look. “Don’t you dare sever this, Ed.” He looked at Tauthin again. “Your species was judged. You lost the judgment.”

  Tauthin looked away.

  “Who judged you?”

  The scientists and guards watched in silence, their understanding limited to Scott’s half of the exchange. Esther, sitting upright on Tauthin’s cot, sat wide-eyed.

  Tauthin said nothing.

  “Who judged you, Tauthin?” Scott asked again.

  The Bakma’s breaths had slowed, but were still intense. His bulging eyes stayed fixed on the corner.

  “Is that what’s happening to us?” Scott asked him. “Are we being judged, too?”

  “The Nerifinn will declare the coming,” Tauthin said. “Your world will fall, as our world has fallen—as their world has fallen. All worlds will fall until the War of Retribution.”

  “The War of Retribution?”

  “Surrender and be destroyed. Resist and be sustained. You will herald the Golathochian Subjugation.”

  Information overload. Impossible to process. “Who is doing the judging, Tauthin?”

  “I will not answer.”

  “Are you afraid to answer?”

  “I will not answer.”

  Scott refused to accept that. “You’re not a slave anymore. You can talk to me—nobody will hurt you.”

  “Sever the link,” Tauthin ordered Ed.

  “Ed, don’t listen—”

  “Sever the link, slave!”

  The connection was cut.

  “Veck!” Scott spun away in disgust.

  “Thay aah thiigs yu cahnnach undaastahnd, Remata.”

  Scott didn’t want to hear it—not anymore. He’d been so close to getting the full answer. So close. Maybe closer than anyone before. “Esther, can you walk?”