Io Deceneus: Journal of a Time Traveler (The Living Universe)

by Florian Armas

  “Are there any weapons to fight those mines?” I tried an oblique request.

  “Any weapon has its own antidote.” I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “I did not say anything about giving you modern weapons. The embargo it is still in place and you had a glimpse of Time’s reactions when in a rage.” My body straightened; I stood stiffly but my mind was detached. The calm grew, almost by itself, in the secretive depths of my mind; the samurai training, I observed, in silence.

  “There is a new reality on the ground,” her tone brusquely changed. “Do you understand so little of what happened there?” There was a slight hint of turmoil in her voice, a deliberate choice of tone. “Have you nothing to say?” she pressed further.

  “It changed the balance of things,” I said carefully, sinking back into the wall of the cave, hand to chin, studying her face – she provided no more hints. “Our enemies were caught with forbidden weapons.” I tested the water, and she provided a nod. “There are new restrictions in place to make sure these things do not happen again.”

  “Be aware that your new friend is not part of the Factions. We were allowed some surveillance technology not yet available to the local Factions.”

  “A good help for sure, but no full guarantees.”

  “There is no such thing as a full guarantee.”

  You lured me into the game with ‘full guarantees’, then everything slipped away, step by step. Still I accepted this. Was it my decision or I was ‘guided’? Anyway I would not change this even if I could. “Those entities know our path.”

  “They know many things.” They know... Of course they know. But how? I don’t need your power to know that they know. “Some links were probably created later.” She stopped for a moment as though trying to assess something. “I need a favor.” Weird look... The strange request was asked with the most vivid violet I ever saw in her eyes. Weird request... “The contact point I lost.” A small plant materialized, a moss.

  “What’s this?” I already guessed she needed us for installing another device, but vegetal? Batranu closed his left eye, as usual when intrigued, and raised his right brow. You old owl, I smiled inside.

  “A molecular assembler. There is too much energy in a full device; it will awake their sensors. This plant will grow a new one.” I had a closer look; many crystals were spread on the small leaves, just half inch long. “Batranu knows how to install it.”

  “My standard missions,” Batranu slowly said, “and my ticket for a ride in the galaxy.” Doubtfully, he glanced at the moss. “Usually I plant full devices. Not a big deal, you only need to find…” The cave trembled, and a scanning wave passed from one end to another, seeding a nauseous feeling in us. “… a proper place.” The next moment we jumped, with our swords out. I died… Another pair of us lay naked on the floor, contorted by the stones. One hand slipped, and its fingers trailed the stone’s surface until they met the sand, with a smooth sound. Still flexible … recent death. In that moment, I thought I caught a whiff of stale breath from the laid-out bodies – a tepid stench, as of a perverse intention meant to provoke aversion. I leaned heavily against the rocks to stay on my feet. Am I still alive?

  “The contact was intercepted; Faction Two knows you are here.” They killed us…

  “They killed us. Why are you keeping our bodies?” We stepped back from her sphere, ready to run.

  “Stop this! We have no time; if I keep the connection open too long they will find us. These two bodies are only bait – artificially created organic flesh. They have a generic human shape; they do not even have organs.” She is right … just flesh. I am too scared. “It is your frightened imagination assuming that they are your dead bodies.” Of course I am scared. “I hope the cave is deep enough to conceal the transfer signatures and make them believe that two persons were transferred here, and that both have left the planet – in bait form.” You hope… I don’t need your hope, I need to stay alive.

  “Are you sure that it will work?” Fear replaced nausea. Self-preservation can pass over the most disgusting things, and this brings as much good as bad.

  “I agree it is a morbid plan but I am lacking ideas. A team of two Travelers is already here. They missed the place by two miles as signals from the cave are distorted, but they will catch the transfer. I will wait ten minutes before teleporting the bodies. Unfortunately, they are blocking your only way out of this valley. They are here now,” – a cross appeared on my map – “and they look like this:” – two tall men, almost seven feet in height, clothed in black, with large black hats; silhouettes appeared before the image focused on their faces. I already knew the black stuff, yet… Large cranium and immature face with childlike jaws… Alien movies … we know this… Their skin color was gray. Ugly faces… Different, not ugly.

  “The marauders ... they were looking for a Deceneus like these guys,” I whispered.

  “Yes, this is the ‘standard’ Traveler. They are the Factions. All intelligent life forms pass into this shape before losing material appearance, and … your civilization is slowly prepared for the first encounter.”

  “When?” I tried to push for the contact disclosure.

  “Later,” she smiled. “Nobody will expect somebody like ... you; they will look for Travelers like them. Their millennia-old conditioning is playing in your favor; keep a low profile, play stupid. They are quite arrogant and may ignore you. No SAT-mines this time.” She smiled again. “Don't curse me for your clothes.” At first I did not understand her meaning and took it like a Houston-type joke, but once out in the daylight I found the reason; our well-cleaned garments were again full of ash and dirt. “And if you have a chance...” I pushed the moss into my pocket without thinking.

  “Is this my first journey here?” Batranu asked.

  “The third one.”

  In front of the cave, the path was smooth enough to ride our horses. A ridge stood between them and us. Close to the edge, we got off and started to walk again, leading the horses. The moss was burning my mind. “If they sense it...” The ridge was close. I went out a dozen feet from the path and concealed it in the tall grass. We met precisely at the top. In those minutes of running, I had imagined several scenarios as to how to react when meeting them, only to forget them on contact. In the end, I just whispered: “Hello strangers, greetings”, as they stopped in front of us. They did not bother to answer; one of them pointed a small instrument toward us. “Who are you?” I risked.

  “It is not for you to ask questions. You look Baragan but your mind pattern is not Baragan.”

  “We are Baragans from the south; we are lost because of the volcanic eruption and are looking for another Baragan group. If you can help us we will be very grateful to you.” My face was naturally frightened, and they believed me. And then a brilliant idea came to Batranu:

  “We will help you in return for finding your brethren lost in the valley.”

  “What brethren?” No muscle moved, no eye blinked on their face; still I was sure they were surprised.

  “There are two people resembling you in the valley.”

  “Did you meet them?”

  “No, we only saw them at some distance, several minutes ago; they seemed to be lost there.” They reacted swiftly, checking the screens attached to their wrists.

  “Lost!” he sneered. “They cannot be lost, small brain, they have a mind. The Baragans you are looking for are in this direction.” His finger pointed the way they had come from, and then they ran in the direction we had come from. I whispered to Batranu: “Mr. Small Brain, the bait is probably gone.” I was about to laugh when they stopped in the place where I had dropped the moss: the laugh died strangled in my throat. Their devices were scanning the area. I sighed when they finally left. My jump over the frozen ridge made a comeback. Bastards! I took back the moss. Batranu had a weird look in his eyes; he was staring around with no visible compass. “We need contact points,” I tried to convince him it was not a useless action.

  “Do you remembe
r the 'not yet to be disclosed' place with SAT-mines that Houston mentioned? It is here. I feel the chrono-particles, and something is changing inside me; I feel new things, and I don't know what they are.”

  *

  From the hill it resembled a giant meandering snake; a deep canyon created by lava in past eruptions. Vegetation became sparser, the grass scanty and gray; the land was not fully recovered. “It will never heal; the volcano...” I killed my last words, speaking was hard. Batranu nodded in silence. The last steps lay across a barren landscape, with no birds or animals, a cheerless land. Even insects have abandoned this place. The volcano towered over everything, a gloomy, surreal picture, illuminated by red lava coming out of the earth, struggling as if it understood that we were snatching away the prey it was claiming. The air became still and filled with sulfur. Bloody sulfur, I coughed, almost to spit out my lungs. They chose the wrong canyon. Nobody let them choose... We stopped where the canyon changed into hollow lava tubes. Like in Hawaii. Yeah, beaches and palms everywhere. Large holes were opening in the ground, in the bulging or concave walls, dark-colored unfriendly slits. There was no way to escape through the tubes and no way to climb the steep, seventy feet high walls, a perfect trap. In a few hours, hell will come here. After a while, we found the place where the wall was lower, as marked in our maps, around thirty feet, enough for our ropes to reach the bottom. We made camp and waited until the noise of the running band killed the silence. Soon after they were in front of the tubes and they knew it was a deceitful path.

  “There is only death that way.” With the last word, I sent one end of the rope down into the canyon.

  “Munti!” someone shouted, bows raised, people ran for shelter. If I die, you die. “Make your name known,” Airan, the heir to the throne, asked loudly.

  “Climb! The lava is coming.” ‘Lava’ made them think faster, and they pushed forward a girl of about eighteen.

  “Sorry, I need a man. That guy.” But the girl looks nice. I pointed towards a small soldier. I hope you are not too heavy. Batranu had to keep the horses calm; the volcano rumbling was scaring them. A tall man said something to Airan and the soldier climbed even before they could agree. Scared? Then I asked for the tall one, Maug, a seasoned soldier, and the second in command after Airan. I left them the rope and stepped aside to receive the climbers. The girl was the first to arrive.

  “I am Altamira. We thank you for your help. And don’t worry; I understand the reasons behind your choice.” Through wide eyes, she studied me with a gaze that was at once naive and cunning. I could hardly hold back a laugh. Ms. Funny Name forgives me. But the name somehow matched the person. Luck had made it a good choice for her ... on Earth. Altamira wore blue pants and jacket, hunting style; she was white faced, with a full red mouth, wide green eyes, long hair, rebellious by nature and even more now after being neglected, dark mahogany with a hint of red now smudged with ash. With such a mixing of colors, she was a kind of Cro-Magnon Sistine Chapel on her own. From the name, she was the daughter of the Baragan King, but something was wrong: Ency showed me a five to seven years old girl. Beautiful girl… Why are you older than I knew?

  When the last two were about to climb I heard her voice again: “Can you do something for my pony?” She asked with her large green eyes engulfing me. I looked at the pony, then at the cliff, then again at the pony, and scratched my head.

  “It’s heavy,” I complained half-heartedly; half annoyed, half pleased that I had her attention. The tall soldier was slightly amused; he nodded downward, reminding me that two people were still waiting to climb. “I...” I tried to mask my indecision behind some words.

  “Please, I know you can do it,” she stopped me. And as always when men meet women’s eyes, whether they are green, blue or black, they lose control of reality and try to show they are real men, no matter the cost.

  “Sure, I will find something,” and I went down on the rope. Then I went up again, as I had forgotten to give the handlers my second rope. And then down again, mumbling something about green eyes and my own stupidity.

  *

  “That is Munti land,” Maug grunted. Have a look before killing me. I gave him my binoculars, pointing down the valley. Would you say that bloody Deceneus too? “Binoculars!” You know what they are. He checked them carefully. “Made in 1815 BE. 920 years ago.” Stupid! I never thought what that number means. BE was Baragan Era. Did they really survive so long or Houston...? “Where did you find them?” You want them. He scouted the valley without waiting for my answer. “Riders.”

  “What’s happening?” Airan and Altamira arrived. The binoculars passed from hand to hand. I know, made in 1815. “1815!” Altamira cried. “They still work. Riders! Munti riders.” If you stop wondering, we can...

  “Where did you find them?” Airan asked. You want them too.

  “We have to hide,” I pressed, and Airan shouted, “Munti!” We ran onto the right-hand road that curved slightly, hiding the fork behind it, buying us more time. After half a mile, we arrived at a narrow ravine that led away westward and we left the road, getting lost between the dark trees of the small sullen mountains.

  “We need a break,” a gasping voice broke the silence. Some whispers agreed with him, the hill was steadily rising ahead of us. Maug glanced at Airan.

  “No break.” Airan’s voice was panting, then silence came again between jerky breaths. We left the ravine, climbing the steep wall at a low point, with the road disappearing from sight.

  “Horses are coming along the road,” a whisper escaped an unknown soldier. His ear was almost as good as my enhanced hearing. When on top, we caught a glimpse of the Munti riders going up the valley to our north and lay in the grass in silence. After a while, we went parallel with both hills and road, the path wound further northward, and camped behind a rocky wall with a shallow cave just in case rain came overnight. It was cold and wet but no fire was allowed. Watchers were set, changing every two hours, but nothing happened before morning, when we woke to see that the clouds were thicker, with no more strips of blue between them. We scrambled over the rocky ground, until a passage finally appeared between the hills that led us to a valley running west toward the other side, only to find, at the end of the day, that the path was barred by a ridge of high rocks. We settled for another night, and before it got completely dark, Maug found that the wall was broken and the passage was free. That gave us a better night, despite the rain starting to fall, impregnating everything with the smell and taste of ash and by chance or maybe not, I had a long talk with Altamira in my watch time after changing with Maug. “It is good to have someone with your eyes, Deceneus,” Maug said before leaving. I had the feeling that Altamira was startled by the association, and I asked if there was something wrong about the name, but she shrugged off the question.

  “You appeared in our land just in time to save us.” Praise and a subtle question even for an adult. Be careful, she is not a garden Earth teenager. Airan is the main key. A second one will do no harm. She is too young. Maybe.

  “I am a wanderer, a Baragan from the south-east; I move from one place to another, connecting scattered communities. I stay a little here, a little there, depending on my will or that of my hosts.”

  “From our side, we consider you a friend of our people; you can stay as long as you want in Dava.”

  “Thank you, your friendship will make things a lot easier for me. The volcano closed our road; we had to turn around, then we found you in the valley. The volcano is to blame for everything,” I smiled.

  Morning brought with it a little bit of sun, and after we crossed the ridge, Maug caught a glimpse of the right road.

  *

  With no immediate danger in sight, Maug tried an informal test of the stranger: “The binoculars give you the eyes of a hawk. My eyes were slower and my temper too high at the fork.”

  “The luck of having better equipment and the danger is not the same for all,” I carefully tested the water.

  “You are a st
ranger yet you know our history. Yes, if caught I would be executed; all the others would be ransomed except Altamira who would be kept captive. Politics.” He shrugged his large shoulders. You are taller, I observed him in silence, and stronger. Maybe a little too old, still I don’t want to meet you in a battle.

  “Altamira has given me some hints. There are also stories circulating in the wilderness.” And Houston’s reports, you have no idea how much inside knowledge we have. Old knowledge. Some old, some still valid. Beware facts a stranger cannot know.

  “A fine lady, in two years she will be twenty, and will marry the First Marshal's son, Scharon.” The voice had a small hint of warning in its tone. Don’t put the girl in bad situations.

  “The First Marshal is a powerful man,” I answered cautiously.

  “Yes, and the marriage will strengthen the links between the Baragans and the Baramunti, the exiled Munti,” Maug said with a neutral voice. You are still a Munti. Some things are bothering you. I need to know more. It was an obvious path for Garon: press for the marriage with Altamira to consolidate his family’s power, but would he step things up, trying to eliminate Airan and make a place for Scharon? How would Altamira fit into this equation?

  Garon, the young rebel … memories of a rainy night came back to me. The failed king … now the First Marshal and Chancellor. What's the Travelers game? The Baramunti were his power base in the Kingdom’s politics as well as being his kinfolk and the best soldiers in the army. Remnants of a past civilization not plagued by wars the Baragans were small and frail, with an affected genetic inheritance. There were around three million people left, one per cent of those from before the calamity hit the planet. By genetic design or through unintended consequences the mixing of Baragans and Muntis always produced offspring, named mix, with better qualities than both parents, faster and stronger. Scharon was one of them; but such unions were rare.

  “Maug is the first Munti I have ever met,” I told Altamira, while walking together at the back of the group.