Redemption Song

by Henry A. Burns

  “What does that mean?” he demanded and briefly covered his own eyes. “What does it mean?”

  “It is a gesture of respect,” Cool Evening Breeze replied. “It means, literally, ‘Your truth is like the sun; it blinds as well as illuminates,’” she told the boy. “So I cover my eyes to not be blinded, but not completely, so I am illuminated.”

  Mark Spencer listened glumly as the reports came in. “Why has God forsaken us?” he said after the last report. He sank to his knees. “Oh Lord, have we not kept the law?” He clasped his hands together. “Did we not banish the ungodly from your land? Did we not save the unborn? Did we not cleanse the land of all who refused to follow your will?” he cried. “And did we not provide honest labor befitting everyone’s proper station?” he asked. “Is this land gone so far astray that not even our works can save it?”

  Silence answered his prayers.

  Spencer rose to his feet. “Bring everyone to Atlanta,” he ordered his chief of staff. “This will be the final battle. This will be our Armageddon.”

  “Looks like you called it, Mr. Blunt,” David Eisenstadt said. “All CSA forces are pulling back to Atlanta.”

  “This is when they will be the most dangerous,” Jeremy cautioned. “Spencer is a religious fanatic. He most likely believes that the devil is loose, and it is his calling to save God’s creation.” His mouth twisted. “By destroying mankind.”

  “Eisenstadt to Silver Shrike. Eisenstadt to Silver Shrike.”

  “This is the Silver Shrike,” Black Rocks replied. “Go ahead, Commander.”

  “We have reason to believe that the CSA is going to …” David Eisenstadt paused. “There are about a hundred nuclear devices that cannot be accounted for,” he said. “One hundred devices that were stored in Georgia.”

  “Spirits,” exclaimed Black Rocks. “Please wait,” he said. “We’re all listening, Commander,” he said. “Your thoughts.”

  “Boys,” Eisenstadt said, “we think the CSA is going to commit suicide and take 35 million people with them.” He paused. “At least 35 million. Worst case scenario is closer to 100 million.” They could hear the sigh. “We’re doing what we can, but …”

  “Brothers?” Joseph Franklin said.

  “Where you lead, we follow, Core Brother,” Red Clouds Paint the Sky said.

  “We’ll do our best, Commander,” Franklin said. “Silver Shrike out.” He spoke to his Torque quietly for a moment. The Torque responded after a minute, and Franklin said, “Frozen River, take us to Atlanta.” The silver arrowhead rotated, and then with a boom that caused several of the remaining grounded F-22s to be tossed into the air, the ship streaked away.

  It took only minutes for the Silver Shrike to reach Atlanta, and then the ship slowed. Black Rocks concentrated on the information his Torque kept feeding him. “Found them,” he said after their third circuit of the city. “Spirits weep!” He chirped a command, and his three core brothers could now see what he was seeing.

  “Oh, shit!” Franklin exclaimed. “They’re under the entire city.”

  “Worse than that, Core Brother,” Red Clouds said. “My calculations suggest that the commander’s upper estimate is off by at least a factor of two.” His crest dropped tight against his skull. “How could any rational being even contemplate this?”

  “Who said he was rational?” Franklin replied. He spoke quietly to his Torque and waited for a response. He blew out a breath. “Frozen River, I’m providing a flight plan,” he said. “You’re going to have to stay below Mach 1. I’ve put defense in the hands of the ship’s computer. Black Rocks, broadcast to anyone who will listen that there are live nuclear devices under the city, and they need to evacuate.”

  “What should I do, Core Brother?” Red Clouds Paint the Sky asked.

  “Pray,” replied Joseph Franklin.

  The Silver Shrike started its run. As it traveled along its flight path, an angry red beam would periodically flick out like a demon’s tongue. And what the tongue touched would dissolve into its component elements. Ground, trees, plants, cars … and people would all turn into … nothing. Joseph Franklin tried not to think about the last every time the beam shot out. He started to count. “Twenty, Twenty-one, Twenty-two.”

  In the capitol building, President Spencer walked over to a panel and inserted a key. He opened the panel and removed a shoebox-sized device. Another key was produced, and the device lit. President Spencer consulted a manual and started to enter numbers. When the last number was entered, he pressed a button, and a countdown started.

  Red Clouds Paint the Sky spoke to Frozen River on a private frequency. “Our human core brother is taking the pain onto himself,” he said.

  “He still has difficulty sharing his feelings,” agreed Frozen River.

  “He is not the only one, is he, Core Brother?” Red Clouds chided. “Why have you not told Joseph that you desire female companionship?”

  “I was waiting until he felt more secure,” admitted Frozen River.

  As the Silver Shrike’s flight path spiraled inward, the ship came under attack from more and more antiaircraft missiles. The ship’s computer spat out bullets, chaff, and its own missiles in response.

  “Forty-three, forty-four,” counted Franklin.

  “I understand Light of Three Moons has expressed interest,” Red Clouds said. “Though she would prefer if Joseph wasn’t so … fixated.”

  “Fifty-one.”

  “She can be persuasive when she wants to be,” Frozen River said. “I think she would make an excellent core sister.”

  “Seventy-eight!” Joseph said. “Come on, come on. Only twenty-two more to go.”

  “We’re not going to make it, are we?” Frozen River asked calmly.

  “No,” agreed Red Clouds. “But we’ve already saved more than half of those who would have died.”

  “Eighty-three!” Franklin exclaimed.

  “I am content then, core brothers,” Black Rocks said into the private line. “But do not count us out yet,” he said. “The Silver Shrike has a few extra tricks.”

  “God will not be denied,” intoned President Spencer as the countdown reached zero.

  There was a flash and then another, and then it seemed as if the ground below had turned into the sun. David Eisenstadt and the rest of the observers in California and New York watched as Atlanta vanished and was replaced by a dozen mushroom clouds.

  It was not until the explosions began to subside that the observers seemed to collectively shake themselves and return their attention to their monitors and Torques.

  “Atlanta is gone, Commander,” Lieutenant Daniels reported quietly.

  Eisenstadt nodded. “Please broadcast the events to all world governments and advise them to be aware of potential fallout issues,” he said. “And then see if we can get an estimate of casualties.” He looked at the monitor and shuddered. “They’re going to need … everything,” he muttered. “Ophelia, are you still there?”

  “I’m still here, David,” the oligarch replied in a hushed voice.

  “You’re closer,” the commander replied. “Can you provide assistance?”

  “Of course, David,” the oligarch replied. “Kasumi, how effective is Omiset against radiation sickness?”

  “Honestly, we don’t know,” Kasumi replied. “We … we never had …” She broke off. “Start with a double dose,” she said. “We can produce as much as you need.”

  “Thank you, Kasumi,” the oligarch replied.

  “Commander!” Lieutenant Daniels shouted. “I’m getting a mayday.” He turned to face the room. “It’s the Shrike!”

  “They’re alive?” Eisenstadt asked in disbelief. “How?” He shook his head. “Never mind that, get High Flyer 1 to retrieve them.”

  “On it, sir,” Lieutenant Daniels replied and returned to his console.

  “Thank god
,” Eisenstadt said. “We could use some good news about now.”

  “Commander!” Lieutenant Daniels shouted again. “Bogies on the monitors.”

  “Now what?” Eisenstadt replied. “On screen,” he ordered. The image shifted. Three disc-shaped objects were displayed. “Flying saucers?” he asked. “Kasumi, are those yours?”

  “No, David,” Kasumi replied. Her crest flattened. “But I know who they are,” she said in tones of worry. “Graz’to.”

  25

  GRAZ’TO

  The three disc-shaped objects approached the colony. They were so much the classic “flying saucer” that it was almost a caricature—disc-shaped overall with a dome on top and a smaller ring underneath. Kasumi forced herself to observe the oncoming craft dispassionately. She felt more than saw Jeremy Blunt walk up beside her.

  “I know I’m only a primitive from a non-spacefaring race, but I would think an interstellar craft would be larger,” he commented. “Those are barely larger than a fighter jet.”

  Kasumi blinked as she thought about what her friend and mentor said. Her crest lifted. “I never thought about it,” she admitted. “But you are right.” Her crest rose higher. “At best, those would be interplanetary.”

  “Which means … what?” Jeremy asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Kasumi replied. “But unless their technology is vastly superior to ours, those are not starships.” She shook her head. “We’ve intercepted Graz’to transmissions, so what we know is mostly inferred, but based on what we do know, they’re no more advanced than the Rynn—and most likely not nearly as advanced.” She chirped to her Torque. “I’ve put the Seeker’s sensors on full spectrum,” she said.

  “You’re thinking that these are no more than shuttles or fighter craft and that the real starship is somewhere else,” Jeremy stated.

  “You’re thinking the same,” Kasumi replied. She looked at Jeremy. The older man was smiling down at her approvingly. “Friend or foe?’ she asked.

  Jeremy shrugged. “Either, neither, or both,” he returned. “What we do know is that they are secretive.” He smiled. “Not unlike a certain spacefaring species I’ve come to know.”

  “Secretive and apparently watching Earth for some time,” Kasumi said. “Since they haven’t overtly interfered with human development,” she said musingly.

  “Keep going, Granddaughter,” Jeremy said into the silence. “Why now?”

  “Always teaching, aren’t you, Grandfather?” Kasumi replied affectionately. “Obviously, the recent conflict has something to do with it, but whether it’s because the Rynn were involved is not proven.” She smiled at the chuckle from Jeremy. “For all we know, they are attracted to nuclear explosions.”

  “A definite possibility,” agreed Jeremy.

  “But unlikely,” Kasumi countered. “Especially since they are headed here and not Atlanta.” She ran her long-fingered hand through her crest. “No, I’m going to assume that it’s because the Rynn were involved in an Earth conflict.”

  “They’re not responding to our hails,” Eisenstadt said. “If these Graz’to are our Grays, you’d think they’d know Earth languages.”

  “Or have a translation program like the Rynn do,” Kasumi replied. “What would the normal protocol be for aliens?”

  “If it wasn’t for the fact that you are an alien, I’d laugh at the comment,” Eisenstadt replied. “We discussed it in officer training,” he added. “General consensus was that any beings capable of interstellar travel would probably be too advanced to combat with conventional weapons.”

  “Well, that would be true for the Rynn,” agreed Kasumi.

  “Even so, we could not allow them to have free rein,” Eisenstadt replied. “Most of my colleagues would probably consider trying to shoot them down about now.”

  “But …?” asked Jeremy.

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Grandfather?” Kasumi accused. “This would be a test, wouldn’t it, Grandfather?”

  “It has that feel,” agreed Jeremy.

  “Eisenstadt to all personnel,” the commander said, and his voice reverberated throughout the colony. “Stand down and let our newest visitors land unhindered,” he ordered. “Ape and Bird squads, honor guard.” He stood. “Are you still there, Ophelia?”

  “Still here, David,” the oligarch replied.

  “If worse comes to worse, Newgate is going to need all the allies he can get,” the commander said.

  “I understand, David,” the oligarch said. “Spirits watch over you.”

  The commander, Kasumi, and Jeremy, along with Mel and Morning Mist, left the command room and headed out toward the field. The three saucer-shaped craft were now overhead. One started to descend as they headed toward a clear area. The other two craft remained hovering.

  “Waited for us to appear,” Eisenstadt murmured. “Looks like we passed the first test.”

  The group arrived where the two squads had set up facing rows. The Rynn members of the squad were wearing war paint, their faces entirely painted red with black slashes running diagonally. For the first time, the commander thought of the Rynn as being menacing. He nodded in approval. “The squads are looking good, Sergeant Major.”

  “Thank you, Commander,” Sergeant Major Stilson replied. When Stilson resigned from the CNG to join the combined Rynn-human defense force Kasumi had originally intended to promote him to Captain. Stilson refused the title saying he was ‘a working marine’ and requested the title of Sergeant Major. “Those are not Rynn craft,” he said offhandedly.

  “Graz’to,” the commander replied. “Keep your boys and girls on their leashes.”

  “They’re marines, sir,” the sergeant major said almost reprovingly. “They are always on leash.” He added, “Until they’re not.”

  The commander smiled at the sergeant major’s inclusion of the Rynn in his comment. “Of course.”

  “They’re using a magnetic propulsion system,” Morning Mist said. “Definitely not interstellar.” She chirped to her Torque. “Hull is a reinforced aluminum alloy. Fusion reactor power source.” Her crest lifted. “Judging by the isotope levels in the hull, I’d guess the ship is approximately one thousand Earth years old.”

  “Rynn are long-lived,” Kasumi said quietly. “But not that long-lived.”

  “I suspect neither are our guests,” Jeremy replied. He watched as the ship landed gently. “I would suggest that David be the one to approach the craft,” he said in a louder voice.

  “I agree with Germy,” Kasumi added. “This is your world.”

  The commander pursed his lips in thought. “Normally I would defer to Mr. Blunt, but in this case, I think Kasumi should accompany me—though it might be better if she walks just behind.”

  “I see where you’re going, David,” Jeremy replied. “But …” He stopped. “Let’s compromise: you approach first and then call Kasumi forward once the initial greetings are over. That way, Kasumi is not mistaken as having either a subordinate or superior role. You’d be introducing an ally instead of an advisor.”

  “Point taken, Mr. Blunt,” Eisenstadt replied. He watched as an access hatch slid open and then a ramp extended. “Showtime,” he said. He squared his shoulders and walked deliberately toward the ship. He stopped a couple of yards from the base of the ramp and waited.

  For several long minutes, nothing happened, and then three figures appeared at the entranceway. They were short and slim like the Rynn, but there was no possibility of confusing the two species. The newcomers each had a large, dome-like bald head with oversized dark, pupil-less eyes, two vertical slits instead of a nose, and a thin slit for a mouth. Their skin—what could be seen that was not covered by a silvery one-piece suit—was wrinkled and gray.

  “Stay frosty,” murmured Stilson as his squads shifted uneasily. The Rynn and humans stopped fidgeting, but the tension was palpable.


  The three figures walked slowly down the ramp in an odd, shuffling manner, as if they either did not have knees or what knees they had did not bend in the same way those of the humans or Rynn did. They reached the bottom of the ramp and stopped.

  “This is your world, David,” Jeremy half-whispered. “Let them speak first.”

  Apparently the commander had the same thought, and he waited patiently. Finally, the center member of the visiting trio took a shuffling step forward.

  “Xan Do Holt am I,” the being said in oddly accented English. “Graz’to am I.” The being looked past the commander. “Rynn here, why?”

  “Welcome, Xan Do Holt,” the commander replied. “I could ask you the same question. Why are the Graz’to here?”

  “Observers, am I,” the Graz’to replied.

  “Interesting,” murmured Jeremy. “Everything is in first person.” He turned to Kasumi. “Notice how similar they look.”

  “Virtually identical,” agreed Kasumi. Her crest flared. “Clones?”

  “Rynn here, why?” the gray alien repeated.

  “I will let the Rynn explain that themselves,” the commander replied. “But understand, we consider them allies.” The commander’s mouth turned up slightly. “Even friends.” He raised a hand.

  Kasumi walked forward until she was standing next to the commander. “I am Kasumi Blunt of the Rynn.”

  “Earth name, that is,” Xan Do Holt said. “Explain.”

  “I am the adopted granddaughter of a human,” Kasumi replied. “I bear the name he gave me,” she said. “A name I wear proudly.”

  “Violent, humans are,” Xan Do Holt said. “Dangerous are.”

  “I cannot deny that,” Kasumi replied. “It’s a dangerous galaxy, and the Rynn need allies.” She smiled. “Humans may be the most dangerous intelligent species of them all.” Her smile widened and her crest rose fully. “In a dangerous galaxy, it makes sense to have allies that would make a Zaski or a Polig-Grug look for easier prey.”