by Gregg Vann
The Saba cowards had attacked while most of the men were out hunting; the village was almost entirely occupied by women and children at the time. But there was blame enough for all here, the Yano knew how treacherous the Saba were, and they should have been more prepared—left more of the men behind for protection.
As he stared out over the canopy, he saw other Yano start to trickle in. They were gathering in the trees surrounding the village, and looking down to witness what has become of their homes and families. My host could feel the rage building in the air, saw the faces of his brethren, and knew that vengeance was near. One of the arriving Yano had spotted a Saba hunting party nearby, singing war-songs as they moved through the trees with their cats. And they had been covered in blood. He pointed out their direction and the Yano departed, leaving the sound of crackling wood and falling debris in their wake.
They swung through the forest with fierce determination—bledi grasping and releasing as required—each Brenin exhibiting a natural grace that many animals would envy. And every Yano hunter had his cat alongside him—the Brenin’s rage transferring between master and beast through the mental attachment that bound them together. The feral wrath was contagious, swelling uncontrollably as the deep emotions shifted back and forth between the pairs. The animals roared in response, their anger growing beyond any hope of restraint.
This was not a silent hunting party sneaking up on a food beast. This was a merciless killing mob bent on revenge.
The Saba heard their approach and scattered off into the trees, hoping to divide their pursuers and escape in the confusion. But it was far too late for that. There were now hundreds of blood-crazed Yano at their backs, and their screams continued to range through the forest—drawing in even more of their brethren from every direction. No matter which way the Saba turned, they found Yano hungry for retribution.
I watched as my host chose a target, and then saw the distinct gray flash as his cat pounced on the Saba. They both fell through the trees intertwined, landing hard on a large branch just a few meters below. My host swung down to join them as the two separated, and using the connection between them, the cat and Yano attacked in unison—the Veilcat grabbing at the Saba’s legs while its master went for the neck.
The Saba lashed out frantically with its bledi, but it was impossible to fend off both attackers. The Veilcat reached out and shredded one of his knees and he stumbled forward—the Yano seized this opportunity to lean in and drive his bledi through his enemy’s face. It emerged from the back of the Saba’s head in an explosion of bone and skin. Blood spattered over my host as he pulled his weapon back out, then he stood back as his cat howled defiantly. The beast grabbed the body in its powerful maw and shook it side-to-side, flinging blood everywhere. The Yano started to call his cat away so they could find another target when the dead Saba’s pair arrived, looking for its own revenge.
The Veilcat had become separated from its pair as the Saba scattered, but it must have sensed its master’s peril and rushed back to defend him. The beast dropped down from above, pouncing on the Yano cat and sending the two tumbling off together in a deadly embrace. The animals rolled around violently, bouncing off thick, vertical branches and the tree’s massive trunk as they grasped and slashed at one another—each struggling to land a killing blow. I felt my host’s helplessness as he attempted to intervene, but the two cats had melded together in a ferocious ball of slashing claws and snapping teeth; it was impossible for him to get close enough to help.
Then a loud yelp pierced the air and thick globules of blood flew onto the tree’s broad leaves, dripping down onto the branch at my host’s feet. The Saba cat had found an opening—disemboweling the Yano’s pair with one of its powerful claws. The Brenin saw his cat fall, and felt its injury through their mental connection. The Saba cat used its abilities to amplify the sensation, overwhelming my host’s senses.
He froze as the animal flew at him, but the rage of losing his family acted like armor, shielding him from the Veilcat’s full mental powers. He struggled heroically to recover his wits before it was too late. I knew that it wasn’t me, that I wasn’t there, but I felt the fear nonetheless. At the last possible moment, he fell flat on his back, stabbing the cat in its stomach as it overshot, and sending it flying off the branch and down through a small opening in the canopy…tumbling far away to its death on the forest floor.
The Yano jumped up and ran to its pair, finding the cat whimpering and trying to drag itself toward its master—still trying to protect him. My host dropped to his knees and cradled the cat’s head, stroking the animal’s mane and speaking softly to calm the beast. The cat’s pain was beyond measure, and its entrails had spilled out in a sticky trail behind it, yet it was still trying to rise, to fight once more with its master.
Loyal…to the end.
The Yano placed his bledi at the Veilcat’s neck and looked in its eyes. An understanding passed between their minds and the Yano felt his pairs’ gratitude. Then it pulled the bledi sharply across and put the animal out of its misery. The Brenin’s own pain subsided as well as the creature’s life ebbed away, the bond between them severed by death. He said an ancient prayer and closed the beast’s eyes, then pushed it over the edge of the giant branch—sending it down to the forest floor where all of the dead things go. He then swung back out into the trees to join his brethren, knowing that after they finished killing these Saba, they would go to their lands; that they would burn their homes, and kill their families—just as they had so many times in the past.
And then they would return home to rebuild their village…again.
The vision faded, and I sensed Seeris’ mind in passing as I rose up out of the haze—regaining my own psyche and then consciousness. I was still on the floor, and looked over to see Uli asleep in the pilot’s chair. In a brief moment of clarity, I knew why Seeris needed to save her, and why he hated the Saba so vehemently—even why the Brenin fleet was now moving through our worlds. But then all of that understanding faded away and I was myself again.
Drifting back to sleep, I realized that my own mind had once again reasserted itself, and whatever I’d just experienced meant nothing to me. Seeris’ thought’s were his own, and not my concern; he could keep his nightmares to himself.
I didn’t need them…
I had enough of my own to last a lifetime.
Chapter Sixteen
When I awoke again, Uli was standing over me with her scanner, her mouth twisted up in a pensive scowl. One eye widened as she looked down at the instrument.
“You’re awake,” she announced, unnecessarily.
“Barely. Help me up.”
She reached down and grabbed my arm as I struggled to stand; there was some residual discomfort in practically every part of my body, but thankfully no pain. I was wearing a fresh Brenin uniform, and reasoned that there must be a supply of them in one of the ship’s storage lockers.
“How am I?” I asked, leaning back against the tank containing the Obas pilot.
“I’ve fixed the broken bones and patched and re-inflated your lung, but your oxygen exchange will be hampered until it fully heals. The gashes and punctures were an easier fix; I expect you’ll make a full recovery from all of your injuries.”
“But?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I saw your face when I regained consciousness. I’m trained to evaluate people, Uli, but even someone who wasn’t could read that expression. I know something is wrong.”
That same expression returned as she ran the scanner over my head, then brought it down again to look at the display. “I really don’t know what’s going on in your brain, but the synaptic readings are extremely hyperactive.” Then the confused look vanished and her face grew angry. “The way the Bodhi tied that container into Seeris’ neural network is damaging him; I’m sure of it.”
“Yes, well I got the impression it was something they’d never tried before.”
“Anima—”she start
ed, and then caught herself.
“Don’t worry about insulting me, doctor. I have my own reservations about the Bodhi.”
“You are all the same to me, Udek…backward and uncivilized. At any rate, the sooner we get you out of Seeris’ body, the better.”
{Tell her about the dream, Udek}
What…?
{Tell her about the attack. About the Saba. And the forest}
You saw that?
{It is my memory}
Your memory?
{Tell her, Udek}
“I saw a forest while I slept, one that stretched out forever…and the aftermath of an attack. I saw Brenin hunters with Veilcats, and witnessed homes burning in the trees.”
“What?” Uli said, incredulous.
She walked to the front of the ship and fell down into one of the chairs, then put her scanner on the flight console and turned back to stare at me—as if trying to look inside my mind using only her eyes.
“But how is that possible?” she asked.
“I still don’t understand what I saw,” I replied. “Much less, how it’s possible. But I’m sure it has something to do with the way the Bodhi linked our minds together.”
“It is Seeris’ dream; he has told me about it many times. And you saw it?”
“I felt like I lived it,” I confessed.
“You witnessed an ancient memory,” she said, clearly shocked. “No non-Brenin has ever…”
{Ask her about hers, Udek}
What difference does one of her dreams make? Does any dream make, for that matter?
{It’s important. Do it}
My immediate reaction was to ignore him, but it is always good policy to gather whatever intelligence one could about the enemy. And who knows, maybe it was important.
“What about your memory, doctor? What is it you see?”
“I would never tell some barbarian about my sacred memory!” she spat out. “I will not! You have no right. And you wouldn’t…you couldn’t…even begin to comprehend.”
{Tell her that I wish it. So I can make you understand}
I repeated Seeris’ comment, but Uli insisted on speaking with him through the scanner to confirm it. They argued loudly for several moments, and just as I was becoming convinced that she would never agree, she finally, reluctantly, acquiesced. I sat down beside her in the other flight seat as she began speaking.
“Consider yourself fortunate, Udek. I believe you are the first being not born on Bren to learn about our visions, certainly the first to actually see one. They are genetic memories from the ancient history of our world—from a very long time ago.” She took a deep breath before starting—preparing herself, it seemed.
“In my dream,” she began, “I am Yano, giving birth to my child—a daughter. I am hurt and bleeding…and she is early. It’s not her time yet, but there is no stopping it now. I was injured in an attack by the Saba, stabbed in the stomach with a bledi, and now she is coming. My sisters are there, each holding one of my hands as I push, and I see their concern…feel their anger.”
Uli stops to take a breath, and through the trembling, I can see the hate on her face. She’s telling the story as if it had happened to her—the strong emotions surging across her face and guiding her animated gestures.
“I’m pushing hard, and feel a wetness release inside me. Then I look down to see a puddle of blood underneath, staining the white linen as it spreads out from my body. I feel my daughter move…she’s starting to make her way out and I push even harder. Her head breeches, spattering blood all over the midwife, and then my child’s shoulders break free. I lean forward for a final push and her feet emerge, followed closely by the placenta.”
“The pain lessens and I’m able to sit up…to see my daughter for the very first time. My mother has taken the child now, balancing her on her forearm as she tries to breathe life into her little body. She’s gently rubbing her granddaughter’s back, and I can see my child’s tiny chest rise and fall with each breath pushed into her lungs. Over and over again my mother tries…but it’s not working, and my sisters begin to wail.”
“My mother is undaunted—her face a mask of love and determination. Somehow, I’m able to hear her softly spoken words, filtering in through all of the screaming. “No, child, you must live. You have to make the Saba pay for what they’ve done to you.”
Uli’s voice breaks and she looks into my eyes, searching for understanding. “But my mother’s words fall on deaf ears, Udek. On ears that have never heard…on ears that never will hear. My child is dead. And the Saba have killed her.”
I watch Uli’s face as she starts to cry, sobbing so hard that it becomes difficult for her to speak. I know that she isn’t here, on a ship bound for Obas. She is there, in the distant past with the Yano, watching her child die.
“My mother finally sees the truth and joins in with my sisters, screaming at the limits of her voice. And then she cries, squeezing my daughter’s body tightly against her chest. My baby’s tiny arms swing around lifelessly, and I can see that one of her eyelids is partly open. I look in my daughter’s eye, but there is nothing there…nothing except death.
Outside the hut, I hear my Yano sisters grieving with us and our screams fill the forest, but then I sense something else as well, a low rumble that begins to swell in intensity. It’s the voices of our men, quickly rising above those of the women. But they aren’t wailing in pain, no…they are screaming for revenge. And I know that soon, very soon, they will exact it. By the end of this day, the Saba will be crying over their own dead, and through my tears, I pray that one of them is a child, just like mine.”
Uli stops speaking and I know that her story is finished. Her vision, her ancient memory as she called it, was over. Her tears subside quickly and she regains her normal bearing. I sense that she’s hiding a trace of embarrassment from sharing this experience, but her contempt for me swiftly quashes it.
“How long ago?” I asked, realizing that these really were ancient memories—from an era long before the Brenin developed even the most basic of technologies. “Just how old are these recollections?”
“Our scientists have discovered thousands of skeletons, and the remains of villages dating back nearly fifty thousand years—at the evolutionary cusp of our present form. But even though the events occurred long ago, to us, the memories feel as if they occurred only yesterday.”
“It was like that for me as well,” I agreed.
{So now you see, Udek. Now…you understand what you’ve done. Every Brenin has a memory like this, and we re-live them each time we sleep. When the Saba find my bledi in Toz’s body, it will rekindle the ancient hatred. And there will be vengeance}
“Better the Brenin slay each other, than continue their advance through our systems, destroying our civilizations.”
{Your civilizations? Pa! You are nothing, all of you. On Bren, we have technology you could only dream of…possibly never even understand. And our literature and art have reached a zenith that we ourselves can’t surpass. All of this made even more remarkable when you consider the constant, internecine clan warfare that has plagued us over the generations. But now…finally, we have risen above that hatred, and even greater things await us}
“You consider exchanging hostages rising above it? And what about the Saba captains’ plot to kill them? You are deluded, Seeris.”
{Am I? What about you, Udek? I have seen in your mind as well. Do you really think you can lecture anyone about their faults?}
“What are you talking about?”
{I have seen some of your memories—witnessed your vaunted military in action…how they have oppressed others and seized their planets. The only thing that holds the Udek in check is the combined forces of the other species. You only push as far as you dare without inciting a galaxy-wide revolt against you. You are no different than we are, and certainly no better. And what about you personally, Tien? How many lives have you taken? I have seen some of your victims…the things you’ve done…wha
t the other Udek have done to you. The clans are right to bring you all to heel; the Udek are diseased in both thought and actions}
“Enough!” Uli shouted. “For now, we are stuck with one another. It’s understood that we each have our own, very different agendas, so let’s leave it at that and do what’s necessary to finish this, then go our separate ways.”
She was right, of course, but so was I. Hell…even Seeris was correct about some things. The actions of every race, everyone for that matter, could easily be called into question. I didn’t feel compelled to defend the Udek culture or their actions; I wasn’t even sure it could be done. But the Brenin were more of a menace than the Udek had ever managed to become—though not for lack of trying. Regardless, all of this introspective nonsense was pointless. And none of it really mattered to me anymore. This entire universe could go to hell for all I cared. I just wanted Dasi and my freedom.
Nothing more.
Yes…once the Brenin are gone, I will be perfectly content to leave everything and everyone else behind and never look back. But first things first.
I got Uli’s attention and gestured over at the tank. “Let’s wake him up. We need to find out what he knows and prepare for our arrival on Obas.
Chapter Seventeen
Uli repeated the procedure she’d performed on the Brenin flagship, and once again the Obas pilot coughed his way to consciousness—waking up in yet another location not of his choosing.
“Where…am…”
Boe fought to speak, but then gave up, leaning forward to spit water out all over the floor instead. Some of it splattered on Uli’s pants and she gave him a disgusted look. He drew a deep breath of air and then tried again. “Where am I…now?”
