Written in Light

by Jeff Young

  “Brandiwicz is dead,” Cerdain snapped, “So that’s hardly relevant.”

  Pergman sat stunned for a moment, his mouth open. But quick with the rejoinder, he asked, “Who the hell are you?”

  “This is Cerdain, she is with the second-wave team and in charge of the Kamanti behavioral model,” Danvers said. Then he asked, “Just what did you find?”

  “I found the one thing hidden right in front of us all along, evidence of a second race... the Mahanti.

  “When I look at the Kamanti, I see a culture that has worn down so many of its distinguishing marks that it reminds me of a river pebble. You can keep trying to get a grasp on it, but it slips away every time. There are plenty of aspects of the Kamanti that just don’t add up. But they are so old, as a species, that they’ve tinkered with their biology and psychology. But the basics of their makeup, now that’s where things get interesting.”

  “Academics.” Cerdain shook her head in disgust. “Can you get to the point?”

  Danvers intervened. “Start with something simple. What are the cylinders?”

  Pergman took a deep breath. He started to answer but stopped, unsure of what to reveal. Steepling his hands in front of his face, he said quietly, “Those are the arks that hold the Mahanti culture. At least this set is. The deep resonance wave scans show another set even further down. After that, there’s another and another. It’s like there are waves of them launched from some set of machines deep down in the mantle. They are all over this world, slowly digging their way up. I had to dig down fifteen miles just to get these.” The archaeologist got to his feet, walking over to stand in front of the closest cylinder. “This,” he said, motioning toward the towering object, “just screams time capsule to me. Look, the Kamanti didn’t want us prying into their history because they are culturally programmed not to. They didn’t want us investigating their biology because it might reveal things about their nature.”

  Pergman stopped and looked at Cerdain, studying her face. The mask of indifference she’d put on slipped for a moment.

  Pointing a finger at her, he said, “You knew. You knew about their biology. I wonder where that information came from.”

  She looked down, unwilling to meet either of their gazes. “I needed to, in order to properly flesh out the cultural model.”

  “So, just where did you get this information from?” Danvers demanded, feeling his own ire rising. All the double-dealing and maneuvering finally pushed him to the breaking point.

  “Gathered surreptitiously, of course. Samples taken here and there. Discrete probes sent out,” Cerdain replied.

  “More nanotech, right?” Danvers asked with a touch of anger.

  “Of course. But you see, Danvers, what we discovered didn’t answer any of our questions. We found out that the Kamanti rebuilt their biology.”

  “Okay, so that’s something new to me, but what does it have to do with the Mahanti? What were they?”

  Cerdain looked to Pergman for the answer. He walked behind a cylinder tapping his lip. When he reappeared, he said, “The Mahanti and Kamanti were co-extant species, both of which could have developed into the natural owners of this world. Their biology was very similar: both radially symmetric, photophore bearing, and exceptional in terms of intelligence. If you look at the basements of the buildings of Tuanach, you’ll find there are foundations upon foundations upon foundations. The city is built up like a nautilus shell. Go down far enough, and there’s a point where the architecture changes to something more angular in nature. At that point, you’re looking at the Mahanti’s work.” The archaeologist’s hand hovered over the cylinder in admiration. “When I looked at resonance photos of deeply buried cities, I found spiraling architecture down so far, and then the rest was all angular. Go on down, and you find more spirals once again. At some point, the cultures realized that one of them would become dominant and supersede the other. Humanity didn’t share Earth with the Neanderthals, and these two cultures realized they couldn’t either.”

  “So, the Kamanti were the winners, and now they have collective cultural guilt because of it. Then we come along and discover the truth by breaking a taboo that requires us to leave. Have I got it?” Cerdain summarized.

  Danvers stepped closer to the specimen tables as an argument commenced. He reached down and picked up a small, hollow cylinder. It matched the one from his pocket. The same angular designs covered its exterior. Interestingly enough, they were laid out in a spiral pattern. Here it was, the two aspects of the civilizations mated together. An idea began to form. Pieces slid together in his mind, shaping the larger framework of the puzzle.

  Danvers cleared his throat. Pergman and Cerdain both paused to look at him. Holding up the two halves of the cylindrical container, Danvers asked, “Just what was in this?”

  Pergman looked at it for a second and then answered, “A dull, translucent rod decorated with more of the same inscription. One of these is at the center of every one of the time capsules.”

  “Can I guess that you gave the rod to Brandiwicz?”

  “Yes, he asked for it specifically when I showed him the inventory. Wait, what are you implying?”

  “Not yet, please,” Danvers said and then turned to Cerdain. “If you had to guess, just how extensively have the Kamanti modified themselves?”

  “Quite a bit. It’s almost as if they decided to refine their life processes and do away with any evolutionary dead ends. Since I’ve just heard about the Mahanti, I can’t make any comparisons. So, if you’re asking, did they try to blend the species, I can’t say.”

  “It’s not that that simple,” Danvers answered. “I think we made a lot of assumptions when we tried to find out what happened here. We looked at things on our timescale. We look at how humans would make any given decision, clouding our findings.” He looked at the cylinder again. “Maybe you were right, Pergman, but it’s not a time capsule... more like a recipe.” Danvers took a breath and then asked, “How long would it take one of these cylinders to reach the surface?”

  Pergman scratched at his chin. “I don’t know. A quarter of a million years? Longer? You’re saying that they were seeded at that depth so they would reappear on the surface at some point in the future?”

  “I think that makes sense,” Cerdain replied, “But look, we have more information now. We should get that to Weavir. There is even the possibility that we can use what we know to convince the Kamanti to let us stay.”

  Danvers looked about the confined area. There didn’t seem to be a reason to stay anymore. “I vote to leave.”

  “Fine,” Pergman replied and then took a brief tour around the area, shutting down anything still running. He reached into a carry sack and pulled out a small winch motor. “This will make it easier for us to get out.”

  “For you maybe, but what about us?” Cerdain asked.

  “Oh, I’ll just lower it down the hole again.”

  “In that case, I’ll go first,” she said, grabbing the small motor from the archaeologist. Within seconds she’d vanished from sight. The winch slid down the cable after a little while, and Pergman ascended next.

  Slightly surprised, Danvers reached for the machine when it arrived for him. Both Cerdain and Pergman had something to hide. He hesitated, looking around. Even though he’d suggested leaving, there were still a great many unanswered questions here. Then he worked his way up the tunnel.

  Brandiwicz would have understood. The message on his mirror said it all. The divide between the thought processes of the Kamanti/ Mahanti and humanity couldn’t be breached. It could only be approximated. The solution that the two races created was simply too alien.

  Danvers reached up and grasped Pergman’s offered hand when he reached the edge of the excavation. Swinging back, he looked down. A hole almost as full of secrets as the people he worked with brought him up short. The kind of secrets one would kill for? Cerdain and Pergman stared at him as he turned away from the dig site. He climbed into the back seat, Cerdain
took the driver’s seat, and the archeologist slid in beside her. It was a long, quiet ride back to the compound.

  When they reached the edge of Tuanach, Danvers recognized a very familiar figure just off the edge of the road to the Diplomatic Compound. He tapped Cerdain on the shoulder. “I’ll walk from here.” She looked at him sharply but brought the skim to a halt. As they drove away, Danvers saw their heads lean together; just how many of the details of their conspiracy would be hatched after he left? He turned back to the Kamanti edging forward out of the shadows.

  He looked at the patterns on the Kamanti’s skin. What was Last Light of Day doing here? Before he could bring his fleck up to ask the question, the Kamanti lit up with a rush of color.

  “Why are you here?” it asked.

  Danvers hesitated. Every time he spoke to a Kamanti, it felt like there existed an extra level of depth to their conversation that he didn’t quite grasp. Even now, he wasn’t certain that the question was meant for him or humanity as a whole. Perhaps it was best to limit the potential for error. “The others left me behind.” Realizing he might not get the opportunity again, he transmitted to the fleck a question, “Last Light of Day, did Brandiwicz ever show you something, something important?”

  The native didn’t answer him. Instead, it shuffled around him and took a few steps down the roadway back toward Tuanach. When it turned back, Last Light of Day leaned toward Danvers, a human affectation that Brandiwicz taught them, to indicate to whom they were speaking. His fleck translated, “He showed me the future and the past all in one flash.”

  Danvers approached the Kamanti. “He showed you a rod, and that rod flashed you with a burst of information.”

  “No,” Last Light of Day replied, “I saw the light of other ideas. Ideas I can’t forget, ideas that are not part of what it means to be Kamanti.” The Kamanti’s light swirled. “Danvers, I glow with these ideas. Others look at me, and they see the ideas, and then they are part of them as well. I went into the crèche as I always do. I shared with the young. But I couldn’t share the things they needed to know. No, I shared with them this infestation that is changing me. I look at myself, and I am not me! Danvers, what did he do to us?”

  Stepping back, Danvers covered his eyes. It must have seemed like the perfect solution at the time. Bury the capsules but allow them to return after ages of the Kamanti civilization so it could be the Mahanti’s turn. Beyond them further still was another fleet of capsules digging their way up to recreate the Kamanti once more. How long had the cycle gone on? Yet, no one counted on some external force with more curiosity than common sense. Did Brandiwicz ever realize what he’d done?

  Could one write memes in luminous information? The Kamanti would take it in with no buffers since they were taught that way during childhood. Add a compulsion to share, and a self-propagating reiteration of an entire culture occurred in cycles.

  The Kamanti were right. Humanity did not belong here. Humanity started the process prematurely in ignorance. That same ignorance could infect the nascent society forming and corrupt everything, every being.

  Dropping his hands, he forced his eyes open. With the fleck, he spoke heavy with regret, “I would like to believe Brandiwicz made a mistake. He did show you your future, a future decided upon by your distant ancestors. One not meant to happen for many more years. I think he made a mistake, intending no harm.” He paused, trying to come up with more, wondering if Brandiwicz did this intentionally trying to discover the technology behind the wormhole threads hidden in the cultural download. The Kamanti, however, wanted to have the last word.

  “You do not have to go, but you cannot stay. Tuanach is not safe for you.” With that enigmatic comment, it turned and walked slowly into the city.

  Danvers watched the small form grow indistinct. As he turned back, he faced the Diplomatic Compound’s high wall and began his own walk. When he neared the gate, Danvers became aware of movement overhead. Typically, they were so high up he ignored them, but the light sail farms were clustering together, their indistinct white forms moving into an eye-blearing sheet. Danvers could not say what survival instinct made him run, but he threw himself through the gate. Turning quickly, he shut the heavy door and rolled into the shadow of the curving wall.

  An incandescent flash bounced from every surface of the Compound above him. A profound silence followed, finally broken by a loud hiss, like a rising wind. When the pressure wave struck, the Compound rang like a giant bell, and the omnipresent yellow dust flew over everything like a cyclone.

  When they found him, Danvers huddled against the wall. The others from the Diplomatic team pulled him to his feet and slung his arms over their shoulders. Together they stumbled into the Compound. When they reached the second floor, Danvers caught a glimpse of the sheet of molten magma that once was Tuanach. The light sail farms passed several of the mouths of the wormhole threads over the city, reducing it to a glowing ember. Just like everything else the Kamanti and Mahanti built, even the premature launch of a civilization had a fail-safe built into it. That defined their technology to a point—it just worked.

  Eventually, Cerdain collected every one of the chits from Danvers. He handed them over without resistance. Maybe one of them contained the secret they were seeking, the creation and control of wormhole threads. He hoped not. After all, they’d just survived a demonstration of how powerful a weapon they could be. She left him the small hollowed-out end of the container for the rod that started everything.

  Looking down at the city’s cooling remains, Danvers reconsidered the logic behind the Compound’s placement. Maybe the Kamanti tried to protect themselves from the humans, but the buildings were just far enough away to survive the kind of strike that destroyed Tuanach. The etchings on the cylinder dug into his palm as Danvers clutched it tight. He tried to crush it, remove all reminders of Last Light of Day and Brandiwicz’s fate. But it was stronger than he thought. Looking down, Danvers realized perhaps he needed something to remind himself that he didn’t have all the answers. Finally, he turned his back on the sea of charred lava below, certain that even such a huge memorial to hubris would have very little effect on humanity in the long run.

  No Visitors Beyond This Point

  When the small ships came out of transition above the ravaged world, their flocking behavior briefly confused the defense system. X-ray lasers fired into the path of the avoy scouting mission from the debris field before them. One by one, the fleet’s brassy chevrons were brought down to spiral through the toxic atmosphere and crash onto the ruins of the world below.

  ~*~

  “Kendell, you know who got you elected.”

  Kendell rolled over as Bran’s voice came again, “Wake up!”

  In the resulting pause, Representative Kendell had the house system pass the incoming transmission to his implant. He glared owlishly as the image of Bran hovered in the corner of his vision. “Fine, Bran, you’ve got my undivided attention. You wanted to talk to me, so talk.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing you’re already reclining. You’d want to take this one sitting down. An archaic defense net shot down an avoy scout swarm on a backwater piece of rock just inside our territory.”

  Kendell exhaled raggedly, and his shoulders slumped.

  Bran stepped into the conversational gap. “Here’s what we know. Fourteen hours ago, your time, seventeen avoy scouts dropped into the orbital plane of an Obsidian-listed planet. X-ray lasers from a legacy system located on the lunar remnants systematically shot them down. A tachyon pulse was sent out before all the ships were destroyed, so the news is already out there. An inquest is in the process of being prepared according to our sources.” Bran sighed and then continued, “You must realize how delicate this situation is.”

  Kendell rolled over and planted his feet on the floor. Obsidian-listed. Only one Obsidian-listed world really mattered, and no one below his pay grade knew about it. “So, the galactics are already moving on this? What can we do?”

  “Actual
ly, it’s not as bad as it seems.”

  The representative gave Bran’s image a stare as if questioning his sanity. “How the hell do you see it as less than catastrophic? Seventeen lives lost when our standing is already fragile with the galactics.”

  “The avoy were admittedly far off-course, inside the fringe of our claimed territory. An unmanned system attacked them. A legacy structure, a remnant of our past exploration. This is a regrettable accident, nothing more.”

  Pulling on an insulsuit, Kendell stopped, one arm into the sleeve. “You know damn well that this could become a very regrettable incident for us, one that might drastically affect our standing in the Galactic Community.”

  “Right now, I have a very carefully picked group recovering the wreckage. They will also ‘ensure’ that the defense system is no longer operational. We need to do some damage control here and shift the focus from this being our fault. If we can get this cleaned up before anyone from the inquest group arrives, perhaps we can pass off the necessity of their visiting the area,” Bran offered, leaning back in his chair.

  “Despite what you’re saying, I think we need to tread lightly here. There’s still anti-alien sentiment present in the populace. Secrets can come back and bite us, Bran. I’ll just have to do my best to resolve the issue,” Kendall said with a sigh as he stepped from his quarters.

  “You’re a representative of Governance; the thousands of species in the Diversiform want to believe you. Governance is the voice they believe because they must. It’s the same all over. It doesn’t matter if it’s a shiapt ambassador withholding the truth about their bloody ritual scarring or that the wickurn never really mentioning that they change sex after they go through a bloom, or better yet that we are talking to ten different yenbeyor all pretending to be the same ambassador because we can’t tell them apart. Every species has its secrets.”