He looks around. It looks to him that his body landed on a mountain side in heavy timber. It reminds him in many ways of the landscape he grew up in all those years ago…
He already misses Zaleria's presence immensely, despite their hardly spending any real time together. But it’s more than the shared memories; he enjoyed being with her. In many ways, he could relate to her, and he relished the companionship. It will take a couple years before she can inhabit a new body, and that will be grown half the galaxy away in her home. For all any galanen will know, perhaps save one, Rolle Andersson died in a plane crash. He doesn't think Traemuña will have a reason to seek whether he survived, and no other galanen will have knowledge of him beyond that of the young hunter who nearly died trying to save the galan Zaleria. A minor footnote to an ancient recon mission. And he knows Zaleria almost never thinks of that Achi. He wonders if Traemuña will even tell Zaleria about him; she might not. It would be in her nature to keep it to herself. After all, Zaleria has found the solution to her problem; why trouble her with it. He sighs.
He sits up. His body is lying in a shallow depression, one created no doubt by his symbiots foraging.
Logically, he doubts he'll see Zaleria again. He knows from her memories that the collective may decide it is best not to bring her back to Earth. She was acting very erratically, so why reintroduce her to a mission that has proven so problematic for her? He could contact them, but what would that accomplish? He would be exposed, and for questionable gain. Is it worth it to assuage his loneliness? No, and not fair to Zaleria either. He'll just have to accept that it is unlikely their paths will cross again, no matter how distasteful he finds that outcome.
He grins at their sarcastic sense of humor. He knows where they get it from—one of many things he and Zaleria shared. So perhaps it's not hopeless, but it still seems very unlikely. At least he knows she's out there, somewhere. And he still has her memories…memories that also include a road-map on how to safely make it to the other side of the singularity.
A smile touches his lips as he starts constructing a bow drill to make a fire—a manual task he's completed so many times, it is still in muscle memory. His next incarnation will have one thing in common with his first he decides, as his smile fades, eyes narrow, and his jaw muscles tighten. It’s time for the hunter to re-emerge. The Sklávoi Ashtoreth think all their enemies dead, their secrets safe. They'll never see him coming. And they must be neutralized before mankind faces their crisis. Soon, he basks in the glow of a brisk fire as the last light of day wanes, beginning the long process of regaining his strength. But nothing can melt his cold resolve.
Chapter Nine
Palingenesia
Zaleria wakes, confused, in her new unitary in her home on Juruele. It has been two years, according to her essence. The last thing she remembers from her prior unitary is preparing for a mission on Earth. Something must have gone horribly wrong, but no one knows exactly what happened. She'd apparently been acting very strangely. Her unitary had been killed, regenerated, and then destroyed. For the last two years her essence has been trying to figure out what happened, to no avail.
During the lost period, her prior unitary had apparently been in close contact with Rolle Andersson. He appears to have been the key to this mystery, but he had also died when her unitary was destroyed.
She had met once with Beltare, who was exceedingly concerned about what she was hiding from her—to the point she has recommended Zaleria not be sent back to Earth after regenerating. And most troubling, her unitary had apparently attempted to connect with her essence once, but the attempt was blocked for safety reasons. Her essence no longer recognized her unitary; it had diverged so much over the course of a few weeks that it had practically become a completely different entity. It is all very confusing and more than a little frightening.
Her unitary had also contacted her mother during that period. Traemuña apparently knows something but has so far refused to discuss whatever they talked about with her essence, at least not in any real detail.
All that she knows is that her unitary provided the galanen a name, Sklávoi Ashtoreth, before she was destroyed. It is apparently an ancient sect of some obscure human religion thousands of years old, loosely based in the Middle East region of Earth. It was likely they who'd killed and then ultimately destroyed her unitary. If so, they had to be more than human. But the galanen are no closer to discovering which failed race has been involved. Nor do they know how'd they'd identified Zaleria as a galanen, which currently threatens all projects on Earth.
After exploring all the evidence she can find, reviewing it over and over again, and getting nowhere, she decides to connect with Beltare, to discuss her situation. “My new unitary is ready. Why won't you let me return to Earth? It is not fair. Whatever happened appears to be tied to a human who is no longer alive. Why can't I go back to my duties?
Beltare is sympathetic, but firm, “Zaleria, you would not share what was going on. You spent three weeks out of communications and then used a backup channel claiming your comms were out. It is not possible that you regenerated without your comms being one of the first functions restored. You obviously didn't want to communicate, or to be located. Further, you were closely tied to Rolle Andersson and stayed at his ranch. Perhaps you were even intimate; we don't know—you seemed very close. You asked for a medical kit to do something, but you never said what. You withheld information, and I believe you lied to me. You were not yourself. Then you were destroyed by what we believe was a thermal oscillator. This device has only been observed twice in the last 10,000 years, both times on Earth, and both times involving you. Rolle Andersson knew who you were, and perhaps so did the Sklávoi Ashtoreth. They may have a way of detecting or tracking our activities. It is too great a risk to let you come here until we know that it is safe. I'm sorry to say, that may never happen, and you need to be prepared to accept that.”
And that was that. Beltare will not budge, and the collective isn't sympathetic. Humanity is rushing towards their crisis, and one of the most promising humans was lost in her presence. She had failed, just as utterly as her corporeal form had been destroyed. She is no longer a novice, and things are too sensitive with Earth to permit any further mistakes. Mankind may not recover from Rolle's loss. Zaleria is devastated, but what can she do? Even she sees the logic of the collective's wisdom in this matter. She doesn't press the issue.
So, all that is left for her to do for now is focus on her garden and try to pick up the pieces. She will try to figure out what happened to her. But it looks like she may never know. She sighs to herself and thinks about reaching out to her mother again. What would be the point? Traemuña has chosen to not illuminate what they'd talked about on Earth. She only shared that Zaleria had come to her troubled about a problem that she couldn't solve. It has now been resolved, so she doesn't think there is any point in reopening that wound—it will only hurt her more and not help her in any way.
Zaleria feels bitter, but also ashamed. She's reviewed every bit of evidence she can find about what she'd done and is just as concerned about her actions as Beltare. So for now, she will garden and try to forget about Earth. She hopes humanity will overcome her mistakes but knows it will be up to others to help guide them.
∞∞∞
Achi
watches the small townhouse with keen eyes. It has been nearly two years since Rolle died, and much has changed. The person within is now extremely important, and he wants to make sure she stays safe. He can't fail like last time. He has learned from his mistakes and better understands his adversary, but there is only so much he can do. He no longer has the resources of DIS at his disposal. And even when he did, he'd failed. Not just once, but on several occasions. And good people had died because of those failures. People like Zaleria…
He stops himself. There is no reason to start thinking about that again. At least she is still alive, just not aware of what happened—of him. So much is at stake, and so much has been sacrificed. He wants to get a little payback. Which is why he is here, keeping an eye on the one person who might be best positioned to bring that about. And it is now time to reel her in.
He watches Cheryn Douglass leave her apartment to go for a walk. She is moving much better now. She'd spent over a month in a coma following the explosion that nearly took her life. The damage had been extensive, and she'd probably have died a slow, lingering death if not for Zaleria's charity in aiding her healing. The doctors called her recovery miraculous. She spent most of the next two years in rehabilitation learning how to move her extremities again. A DIS foundation helped pay the bills, less altruism than an attempt to forestall a lawsuit since she was injured in an attack on the company. No one is aware of her role as assassin, a ruse Achi implemented prior to Rolle's death. She is his only link to the Sklávoi Ashtoreth, and he has been working quietly since the incident to keep her safe from any attempt by their operatives to silence her, permanently.
The only other person with any potential knowledge of the Sklávoi Ashtoreth is Clive. He is no longer with DIS, having been fired shortly after Rolle was killed. The new management decided that the man who failed to protect Rolle Andersson had no place in their organization. Frankly, he didn't blame them for making that decision. It was the right thing to do.
Achi has arranged to meet Cheryn this day, though she doesn't know it yet. He wants to see if he can persuade her to guide him to a trail leading back to the head of the SA, and then take them out. He is out for revenge—not for Zaleria, not for Clive, and not for himself, but for what they have been doing to humanity's evolution.
He sits on the park bench, waiting for her. She has changed since the explosion. She has been helped by the very people she sought to destroy, and he is sure she was also profoundly moved by what she experienced when she lay in a coma for weeks. He's been in her shoes many times. It was not pleasant and could certainly be life changing. He has kept a loose line to her for the last couple years. He didn't want to provoke a reaction from Sklávoi Ashtoreth, and he needed the time to start creating his new persona.
He'd waited about a month in the wilderness before he'd first contacted Clive, who was very relieved to hear from him. He'd just been fired from DIS but suspected there was a chance Achi and Zaleria had survived the plane crash. He was devastated that Zaleria hadn't made it and was incensed that those other “aliens” had made such a blatant attack. Achi advised Clive to go to ground, which he did. If anyone was to look for him, it would seem he disappeared from the face of the Earth.
They need a target before they can get revenge, and Cheryn is the key. If he can turn her to their cause, she would make a formidable weapon. If only he can do so without stirring Sklávoi Ashtoreth's wrath.
He sees her coming around the corner, with only a slight limp. She appears an unremarkable woman of average height, in her early thirties, and a little pudgy from the lack of exercise caused by her long convalescence. She is, however, a very determined woman, regaining nearly full functionality from injuries many would have succumbed to. She wears her hair in a short natural afro, and her dark skin shows several prominent and raised scars where shrapnel had penetrated her body. Her eyes watch her surroundings with a care beyond what most people would devote. They stop when reaching him—a nicely dressed man clearly out of place in this urban environment. He gets up and saunters over to her casually. “Hello Cheryn, it’s good to see the progress you're making.”
She appraises him coolly. He no longer appears middle aged, having altered his appearance for his new persona, which is younger than Rolle was. Yet his face makes her take a double look, perhaps somewhat familiar despite the alterations. “I'm sorry, do I know you?”
Achi gives her a warm smile. “Yes and no. May I walk with you while I explain?”
He sees a look of wariness cross her eyes, as well as confusion, but his non-confrontational manner and earnestness allay her concerns—that and the pistol she has concealed near the small of her back; she touches it briefly with her right hand to assure herself that it is still there. “Sure, I don't suppose that will be a problem. What is your name?”
“I'm Nils Hagen, though we have not been formally introduced before. I have been working with the Andersson Foundation to make sure you received the best care following that horrible terrorist attack.” He watches her face as mixed emotions cross over it. She is grateful for their help, but she is very suspicious of his motives.
“I appreciate the support you've given me; my recovery has been very difficult. What do you want from me?” she asks. Her voice quavers a bit as she asks the question.
Nils gestures towards the walking path, and they begin walking. He says, “I would like nothing more than a moment to chat with you about your future plans.” She visibly relaxes a little. He knows she has begun exploring job opportunities but hasn't really had much success. “Now that you are doing so much better, I was wondering what kind of work you have been thinking about? What did you do before the…incident?”
She stops for a moment to look at him, to see if he is for real. She places her hands on her ample hips as she catches her breath from her brisk pace. “I'm still trying to figure that out, frankly. I'm looking for more rewarding work than what I did, before.”
“What skills do you have?” He asks. “What kind of work have you done?”
She looks away from him and resumes walking. “I not interested in doing what I did before. Most of my skills are related to, well I guess, security-type work. But I'm more interested in helping people, you know, like social work, or something.” She stops again and gets a distant look in her eyes. “I want to do something meaningful, but I'm not sure what. I'm sorry. I know I'm not making a lot of sense.” She shakes her head. “But I've made it this far; I'm sure I'll find something.”
They start walking again in silence for a while. Nils eventually says, “Our foundation does a lot of good work.”
She doesn't react for a while and continues to walk briskly while looking forward. She finally says, “I'm not sure I can do that. I appreciate all you've done for me, and I don't want to seem ungrateful, but I never liked your organization. I felt it was patronizing, a sham, and racist.” She sets her jaw.
“I notice you used the past tense,” Nils observes. “What do you think now?”
She stops, staring off into space again for a moment before turning to look into his eyes. “I honestly don't know,” She says. “I don't trust people like you. I had a rough childhood and blamed people like you for it. But things have changed, and I've been reevaluating my life. I don't know how I feel anymore or if what I feel is right.”
“Well, trauma like you've been through can certainly do that to a person. Think about it. If you're game, give me a call.” He hands her his card. “We really do good work.”
She takes it. “Thank you. I will…think about it.”
∞∞∞
Achi looks at his reflection in the mirror. A youthful face stares back. He looks to be about 25 years old, black hair, round face, with pale gray eyes that shine with an unnatural intensity, reflecting wisdom, pain, and he admits to himself, a touch of anger he is not proud of. But this is different than the anger he felt in his youth. This is righteous anger. Deep offense that a still unknown enemy is trying to lead humanity down a path that
leads to ruin. He has a name for the enemy but still doesn't know who it really is. They are clearly more than human, twice now displaying alien technology beyond anything available to humanity. He finishes shaving, gets dressed, and goes downstairs to meet Clive for breakfast.
Clive has remained loyal to him despite everything. Achi reflects on the two of them. He'd first run into Cleavon Robinson in Philadelphia when he was a young Rolle Andersson. 'Clive' as he called himself was about 8 or 9 years old, a street kid who tried to shake him down for some money and then grabbed his wallet when he pulled it out. He was fast, but Rolle was faster. He had chased Clive down and turned him over to the police. When he checked up on him a couple days later, Rolle learned Clive was an orphan and being shuttled from one foster family to another. No one knew anything about his mother or whether he had any other kin. Something about him struck a nerve with Achi. He was clearly intelligent, and industrious, but heading for a life of crime. Achi knew a thing or two about raising kids—he'd brought several hundred into the world—and decided to take him on.
Clive didn't trust him one bit. He was bitter, defiant, and rude as hell. But Rolle eventually won him over with firmness, fairness, respect, and love. Not the emotion most people think of as love, which is just a shallow feeling, but by showing love through actions. Love as a verb but left unstated. He ensured Clive gained a solid education from good schools and sometimes from tutors who ensured he was challenged to reach his potential. He also taught him things you don't learn in school, such as how to stalk game, and how to read signs and track just about anything. He also helped him get even better at reading people, eliciting information from them, and how to thoroughly investigate their backgrounds. He taught him advanced martial arts, how to be proficient with a wide range of weapons, both primitive and firearms, and then small unit tactics. He had an aptitude for all things security, which led to his eventual employment with DIS.
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