“Collin, listen. I’m just worried—”
“No, Hayden doesn’t want me to keep my thoughts to myself to protect his faith for him,” Collin said. “I mean, be honest with me, Tibbs, if Hayden had just called my lack of belief into question, would you ask him to be more sensitive?”
Jonathan paused and drew in a long breath. He glanced at Rylee to see if she might weigh in, but she just shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I thought we were Switzerland.”
Collin looked suspicious of the comment, but his attention went back to Jonathan.
When he spoke, Jonathan had lowered his voice to a whisper. “Collin, I haven’t said anything, so it isn’t your fault for not knowing this,” he said. “But Hayden hasn’t been sleeping. He’s been up ’til four in the morning most nights for the last month. I don’t know if it has anything to do with this. I haven’t asked him. Just do me a favor and take a break.”
Collin’s face softened, relinquishing the desire to argue as he realized he may have misjudged the situation.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
DATE | TIME: UNKNOWN | FEROXIAN PLANE
THOSE WHO STUDY events that take place across geologic periods are familiar with the challenge of wrapping their imagination around time from the beginning of existence to the present. They often use models, scaled down to more digestible sizes, in order to get perspective. It is a humbling experience to take all of time and look at it in the context of a single day—a 24-hour clock. One sees that, if the Earth was formed at 0:01 am, the first form of life on the planet showed up around 4 am, and that Mankind doesn’t show up until roughly a minute before midnight.
When Heyer tried to do something similar—view his own life from the beginning to the present moment in terms of a human life span—then he could say that perhaps a split second separated his birth from his brother’s. Yet, in that split second, Malkier had lost the parents Heyer would never know—had lost an entire species Heyer would never meet.
Suddenly, in that context, it seems a lot can happen in a split second. Enough to create a gulf between him and his brother that would eventually grow so wide that, despite being the only two of their kind and having an entire universe to share, they had failed to live out their lives without coming to war…
Some visits to his brother’s vessel were worth a moment’s delay. Heyer now stood beneath the moonless night sky of the Feroxian plane, but he didn’t stare up at the stars. His eyes lingered on Jonathan’s gateway.
The alien could hardly expect Jonathan to understand his hesitance. Humanity faced one threat, and so, what needed to be done appeared so very uncomplicated to the boy. He was an only child that had grown up with guidance. There had been older and wiser people who loved him and had taken care to shape him as a child. Jonathan didn’t know what it was, truly, to have no living role model. Growing up, Heyer had only had his older brother.
Malkier assumed that when the Ferox were pushed to the brink, Heyer would concede that there was no other way. His brother never seemed to realize that Heyer had drawn a line in the sand, a line he could not allow one of his own to cross—genocide. Heyer often wondered if Malkier had any such line. What, for instance, would it take for Malkier to consider Heyer’s life forfeit?
The truth that Malkier had yet to uncover was that they had been at war for years now. Perhaps it was inevitable, but for Heyer, the day his brother had entered this gateway was when he knew where they were headed. Every time Heyer had referred to Malkier as “brother” since, he had been committing an act of treason. Heyer would gain no satisfaction seeing his brother realize this. Heyer would lie and conceal, he would prepare, but one day his brother was going to uncover that he had been preparing for a war for quite some time.
Suffice it to say, as he passed through the shimmering stone into his brother’s home, like he had so many times before, he knew it would not be his finest moment. Whenever he imagined his ancestors watching them, he knew that if the last two of the Borealis killed one another… there would be no better definition of “pathetic.” The brothers were a laughable end to the most advanced civilization ever known.
When Heyer reached the main cavern, Malkier’s back was to him. He could see that Dams the Gate’s body was no longer present. Heyer waited, not wanting to interrupt as his brother concluded a conversation with Cede.
“We will continue this later, Cede,” Malkier said. “For now, I wish to speak to my brother.”
Cede’s face, the face of their mother, disappeared into the stone behind them. Malkier stood tall, no longer wearing the emotional defeat he had at their last meeting. Heyer could not yet be sure whether this development was good or bad. It was unclear how much time had passed on this plane since his previous visit.
“You look better, brother,” Heyer said.
Malkier nodded. “My lapses in leadership finally became apparent to me—perhaps a good thing, as it seems that the need to project strength for my people helped to break the hold my son’s passing had on me. I had failed to see that tides have started to shift amongst my people. The Ferox must have faith in their prophet in the coming days.”
Heyer returned a nod. “I imagine it is for the best that you focused on the morale of your people,” he said, his face becoming thoughtful. “Curious, though—the next few days require your immediate presence?”
“Yes, investigating the means by which Dams the Gate gained entry to Earth has uncovered some disturbing threats within the Ferox population.”
“Rebels amongst the Ferox?” Heyer asked, making a show of surprise. “Are the Ferox capable of falling out of line?”
“It seems so,” Malkier said. “For some time, I knew of a growing discordance, mostly made up of males whose ineligibility left them unlikely to be given access to the gates. I had thought their frustrations harmless.” He drew a heavy breath. “However, in tracing the means by which my son entered the gates, I discovered they were more than a disgruntled few. They have a leader, and Dams the Gate was the face that rallied their—” Malkier paused. “Insubordinations.”
“A leader? One of the remaining Alphas?”
His brother shook his head, his face growing pained. “No. Burns the Flame. His mother.”
Silence fell between them, Heyer’s mouth dropping open, though he hadn’t yet come up with something to say. Once given the answer, it seemed so obvious. Hearing her name, Heyer found himself reminded of Genesis, where the blind Isaac is tricked by his wife, Rebekah, on behalf of their son.
Burns the Flame had mothered many children before she bore the prophet’s son. She was quite beautiful by Ferox standards, or so Heyer understood. There had been a time when many of the males who entered the gates did so with her in mind.
When his brother had entered the gates, it turned out he too, had not been immune to her charms.
However, the decree upon Dams the Gate’s birth, that her son was forbidden entrance to the gates, had an unforeseen side effect. The Ferox males, seeing that the prophet of their gods had forbidden her offspring to enter, feared that the same decrees would fall on all her future offspring—the decree was an unspoken punishment on both her and the child for a sin gone unspoken.
In this bleak period where the Ferox faced the most innate of their fears, a male returning from the gates may never have another opportunity to mate. They would not risk squandering their reproductive opportunities on a female whose children may be rendered sterile by the decree of their gods. Burns the Flame had not borne a child since.
“She betrayed you?” Heyer asked.
“There are moments when I fear I’ve lost perspective,” Malkier said. “In a way, I saw her and my son as family. I find myself unable to accuse them of betrayal after the harm we brought them.”
Heyer regarded his brother. “We—” He paused. “Brother, these circumstances were not of my making.”
Malkier turned his head, enough that Heyer could see the edge of his white eye. “Perhaps.”
Heyer narrow
ed his eyes briefly at his brother’s response, but decided to let the issue drop. He had more important questions on his mind. “The Feroxian females are not given access to the gates. How did she acquire the portal stone?”
“One of her older sons was recently awarded entry. He, too, felt harmed by his mother’s legacy, and took pity on Dams the Gate. At her request, the son gave his portal stone to his brother. The act was rather unprecedented, as it was the first time I’ve seen a Ferox male blatantly risk the anger of their gods.”
“Will they be punished?” Heyer asked.
“I’ve yet to decide exactly how I intend to handle the situation. I am glad you visit me now. Perhaps I can share my thoughts with you. However, I was hoping to put off thinking of it for a bit longer…” Malkier trailed off, looking at his brother curiously, a change Heyer found quite difficult to read. “Do you suppose I could interest you in a bout of exercise, brother? It’s been a long time since I stretched this body’s muscles. I thought it might be good for us both. That maybe, circumstances having changed, it might help us rebuild what we’ve lost.”
Heyer blinked, caught at a loss by his brother’s request. The two of them had often engaged in such brotherly activities, but not since the death of Echoes the Borealis. If Heyer declined, he would be making a statement. He would be telling his brother that, despite Malkier having lost everything he’d gained though that betrayal a decade earlier, Heyer had no desire to repair their relationship. Seeing how current events were playing out, he thought it best Malkier believe he was at least willing to try, though, if he were being completely honest with himself, he too, had things to discuss with his brother that he would like to postpone.
“It would mean a great deal to me, brother,” Malkier said. “I cannot take back the past, but I can hope that we would not live the rest of our lives as strangers. I wish for something good to come out of this tragedy, if it be that I might have my brother back.”
Heyer regarded his brother for moment, letting Malkier see he had not immediately rejected the offer.
“If it’s any consolation,” Malkier added. “You may choose the scenario.”
A half grin formed on Heyer’s lips, and Malkier’s features lightened, equal parts enthusiasm and relief, a combination that gave the features of an Alpha Ferox a strange innocence.
“Winter, the forests of Principium One,” Heyer said.
Malkier’s head tilted slightly at Heyer’s selection. Their ancestors had considered the forests of Principium much like Mankind considered the Fertile Crescent. This was the wilderness where the Borealis were believed to have emerged from their earlier hunter-gatherer life to start down the road of becoming a technologically advanced species. Historical records showed that the Borealis preserved the wilderness there as something akin to a national park. Before the fall of their species, Borealis went there to live as nature had designed them. No technology, aside from the device implanted in their chest, of course—a retreat from civilization.
After some thought, Malkier’s mouth formed in a startling, wide Feroxian grin. “Back to the beginning, then, brother?”
“It was the first place that came to mind,” Heyer said. “And I have not viewed it in quite some time.”
He nodded. “Cede, please initiate the Principium One forest scenario. Cancel the scenario should any of the Ferox approach.”
Heyer stepped back a few paces as the walls of the room shimmered, leaving them inside the void for a moment before what had been the inner structure of the cave began to change. The ceiling became a false sky, unnatural light coming down on them. He pulled off his coat, folding it over a branch of unearthly vegetation as it solidified beside him. He removed his shoes, placing them on the forest floor forming beneath.
Unlike the interactive footage of the Foedrata Arena that Heyer had taken Jonathan through, the projects within the cavern were being manifested from the vessel’s excess physical mass, requiring Cede hollow out materials that would have been stored inside cave walls. This meant that trees here were true obstructions if one collided with them. Colors seeped into the environment and the temperature dropped as the forest completed taking shape within the room. Blue-azure snowflakes began to fall through the canopy, coming down from the white winter sky of Principium One. They joined powder-blue snow resting on tree branches and the forest floor.
The trees reflected the light, and Heyer saw his face, obscured by the contours of the leaf-like outgrowths. Plant life on Principium, analogous to that of Earth’s, fed on energy harvested from the environment through processes similar to photosynthesis. Chlorophyll-like proteins found in the leaves absorbed light from the nearby star. However, the spectrum absorbed left a range of silver to be cast onto an observer’s eye. The leaves took on a shiny, metallic appearance, as though made of organic steel. The leaves themselves were more like seaweed—thick, overlapping strands of leathery tinsel hanging down from the outstretched branches.
As was the way with forests, the trees competed for resources, growing higher and higher, trying to reach out of the shadows cast by their neighboring competitors to gather the light abundant at the top of the canopy. The vines of various species climbed the thick cobalt bark of the larger trees’ trunks, circling up as though they were on a winding staircase. Meanwhile, these vines were slowly strangling the life from that which allowed them to reach their food source.
The scenario did not indulge in more exotic details. Animals capable of complex movements were not present. Instead, their absence was made up for by the presence of their familiar sounds. A human would not have much to hear on the real Principium One. The frequency at which the animals vocalized wouldn’t be heard by the human ear. Heyer heard these sounds though, because the scenario provided his earthly form with a close approximation. It came to him as an osculating hum of sorts, a sound reminiscent of tuning forks vibrating. The mix of frequencies created a calming familiarity to the brothers.
The massive shadow of his brother stepped close, dimming the light around Heyer, the metallic bones of Malkier’s knuckles cracking behind him. Heyer turned enough to see his brother with one eye, then winked before bolting into the forest in a blur of movement.
His brother was swiftly in pursuit, a massive black blur chasing after him.
Heyer pounced off the floor of the forest, agile, rebounding from trunk to trunk and making it difficult for his brother to keep sight of him. He circled Malkier, noticing that his brother had come to a stop in a clearing to search the canopy for signs of his movement. Heyer disturbed branches as he moved, allowing the soft sounds of snowfall to draw his brother’s attention in circles.
In a stealthy and swift ruse of motion, Heyer plunged head first from the sky while his brother was drawn to the last noise he had purposely made in the canopy. He came down behind him, a hand locking beneath his brother’s massive Feroxian jaw as he reoriented his feet to land at the last second. Malkier’s immense spine arched backward as Heyer pulled down, and rolled his brother over his back and shoulder. The maneuver launched Malkier into the woods.
He adapted quickly, gathering control of his mass in the air to orient himself. When his momentum was halted by a collision into a thick tree trunk, he pushed off, coming back at Heyer headlong.
Heyer focused, waiting until the absolute last moment to side step, Malkier’s fist flying past his face, coming within inches as Heyer grabbed hold of his outstretched arm and turned, redirecting his trajectory into the forest floor. Malkier crashed and rolled, the snow and dirt looking almost like a series of landmines had been detonated in a sequence moving away from Heyer.
The Ferox found his footing, leaping sideways into the trees, where Heyer lost sight of him. “You and your human tricks,” his voice said from within the forest.
Heyer smiled. It was true that martial arts were a foreign concept to the Ferox. Though, admittedly, they had little need for such elements of style; theirs was a mix of animal instinct and brawling, and given their assets, i
t usually proved quite effective.
They could not actually hurt one another, not within the fight scenario—the ground and objects softened on impact to keep the combat sporting in nature. In a wilderness environment like this, Heyer had the advantage. His body was less difficult to move through the canopy without upsetting it, sometimes indistinguishable from a soft breeze, while Malkier was like a bulky tank crashing through when he moved too quickly. Still, as with all fights, if Heyer found himself in an entanglement where strength was the deciding factor, he would lose.
When his brother did not immediately launch another frontal assault, Heyer got moving, not wanting to give him a still target. The noise suddenly ceased, and all he could hear were the sounds of the forest. Heyer froze. A trap had likely just been laid—he needed to spot it or he ran the risk of walking into it.
Sound erupted from his flank, and Heyer turned to see the trunk of a tree coming straight at his position. He jumped without a second to spare, stepping on the trunk, the motion forcing him into a forward flip to land on the forest floor without losing his footing. Upon hitting the ground, he dropped immediately into a crouch—Malkier then flew out of the forest toward him, forcing him to roll out of the way of a powerful swing.
He stood, seeing his brother begin to turn to target him as he came out of the roll, giving him no time to dodge but only to plant his feet and bring both arms in front of his face in a block, bracing for impact. The massive forearm came around and connected with his, and the force sent him backward. His feet ripped trenches through the forest floor, dirt and snow firing out both sides like water breaking in the wake of a speedboat until his back struck something solid. The sound of wood and bark splintering came to his attention as a tree trunk absorbed him. Piles of azure snow fell from the branches as the vibrations shook up the length of the tree.
Heyer ducked as his brother rushed in to take advantage. The fist flew over his head, connecting against the trunk where his body had stood a moment earlier. The wood, already damaged from the first impact, split—the massive tower of a trunk caving in toward them. This was no small spruce tree, but something closer in size to that of Earth’s redwoods. The brothers jumped in opposite directions as gravity brought the heavy tree crashing to the forest floor. The world thundered around them when it came down.
The Never Paradox (Chronicles Of Jonathan Tibbs Book 2) Page 39