by Gregg Vann
“No,” Speaker Lews said gloomily. “You don’t understand. The brill provides all of our oxygen, for every city and habitat; it produces an overabundance of air in the caverns, and that’s what we channel out to the cities. We have no artificial oxygen generators; if they poison the brill, the toxin will travel throughout our air supply. And if we shut down the ventilation system to stop it, we will all suffocate.”
“And you can’t go to the surface,” I finished for him, beginning to comprehend the situation more clearly. “Not all of you, anyway. And even if you could, you would be left open to Brenin attacks.”
“So now you understand the danger,” Lews stated.
“Yes,” I replied, hiding my reluctant admiration. The Brenin had indeed done their homework; they’d be able to destroy this entire race of beings with a single missile barrage. But why? Because of the hidden fleet? The Brenin had seriously…viciously, culled other races during their advance, but they had never gone so far as to wipe out the entire population. This was so…deliberate.
“I will order the fleet into orbit,” Speaker Lews announced. I knew that his confident tone was more for the benefit of the other Obas present than it was a reflection of his true feelings. “Every ship we have will assemble to defend the planet, and then I’ll dispatch half of them to intercept the Brenin. Maybe they can buy us some more time to work on the shielding problem. With any luck, they may even be able to thin out the Brenin force before it arrives.”
“Your entire fleet couldn’t harm us,” Uli stated flatly from across the room. “Much less half of it.”
“Then why do you feel so threatened that you have to poison us from afar like cowards!” Speaker Lews snapped.
Uli said nothing further, instead going back to work with the now even more anxious scientists.
“Speaker Lews,” I started, trying my best to be diplomatic, “maybe sending half your ships out to engage the enemy isn’t the best use of your forces. It might be better if they stayed together as a larger fleet, arrayed in a defensive formation to protect the planet.”
Lews gestured over at the scientists collaborating with Uli and lowered his voice. “Look at them, Tien. They are motivated and highly competent, but confused by the strange language and technology. They need time to sort this all out. A battle away from the planet will slow the Brenin advance and give them that time.”
“But right now,” I protested, “the Brenin are a known quantity, maintaining a steady course and speed. We know exactly where they are, and how long we have to prepare. If you provoke them, they may react unexpectedly and change the game.”
“This is no game, Udek,” he said testily. “This is our lives. Besides, I think you underestimate our chances.”
“And I think you overestimate them,” I countered.
“Enough!” he said with finality. “I appreciate your input, Tien. But the decision is mine. And I have made it.”
Lews swiftly regained his composure, raising the volume of his voice, but softening the tone. “Master Pilot, please take Tien to the vents and show him everything. Explain our unique biosphere as much as you are able. Maybe his off-wor…his different perspective can provide a unique solution to this crisis—one that we ourselves can’t fathom.”
“Of course sir,” Boe replied.
“But the translation—” I began.
“Go, Udek,” Uli said dismissively. “I don’t need you. You overvalue your importance here.”
Maybe, I thought, or was she just trying to get rid of me?
But to what end? Even if she did have some nefarious plan, Uli was being so closely monitored by the Obas that she couldn’t possibly implement it. No, they were perfectly capable of managing her in my absence, and I should take this opportunity to learn more about the Obas, if for no other reason than my own intense curiosity. I nodded to Boe, and we followed Speaker Lews out of the room as he departed with his entourage.
Lews moved with deliberate haste down the hall ahead of us, barking commands at those in his orbit, and issuing orders to others more remote through a comm unit on his forearm. His retinue was struggling to keep up with him, and even his personal guards were pressed into jogging to stay at his side. I was satisfied that the Obas were completely motivated now; the fleet would launch and prepare for the Brenin.
At least we’d made that much progress.
As the Speaker rounded a corner and faded out of sight, Boe veered off to the left and down a short hallway; I followed closely behind him. The small corridor terminated at a rock wall with a polished, metal door set firmly into its center. Boe grabbed the diagonally mounted handle that ran the full length of it and yanked hard, pulling it open. We both stepped through, emerging out into the large hangar where we’d first entered the sprawling mountain complex.
We were standing on a metal walkway that spanned the width of the cavern—high above the busy hangar floor below. I looked down to see Obas technicians rushing around dozens of ships, frantically preparing each for combat. There were various types of armaments scattered around the staging zones, all waiting to be mounted on the vessels. In fact, there were so many missiles and directed energy batteries strewn about that even an uniformed civilian could see the truth; the Obas ships were little more than giant weapons platforms, offensive craft with a single purpose—to inflict as much damage as possible, as quickly as possible.
“I should be going with them,” Boe said.
“Don’t worry,” I replied. “Before this is all over, I’m sure you will get your chance. The Brenin will see to that.”
We crossed over to the other side of the hangar, encountering a metal door identical to the one we’d just exited. It was also set into the natural cavern wall, but instead of a hallway leading back into the complex, it opened up to reveal a small elevator, barely large enough for four people. We boarded it and Boe pulled the door closed behind us. He slid a finger all the way down the control panel, setting the lowermost floor as our destination, and then the lift started smoothly on its way. As we made our descent, Boe read information scrolling across a wall-mounted monitor sitting adjacent to the elevator controls, occasionally frowning at what he saw there. They were readiness reports, I reasoned. The door opened automatically when we reached the bottom.
“This is it,” Boe announced. He stepped aside so I could exit first then walked out himself.
We’d arrived in a rounded, stone chamber, approximately ten meters in circumference, with a high, cone-shaped ceiling. It was empty and otherwise featureless, except for two large holes in the opposite wall, directly across from where we stood.
“Those are just two of the thousands of air vents that crisscross these caverns,” Boe said. “This particular pair forces air all the way up to the surface—connecting with other vents along the way that reinforce the stream where needed, or bleed off excess pressure as required. The end result is a constant, steady flow of air.”
“All the way to the surface? The brill create that much pressure in the chambers?”
“And more. Some vent chambers, like this one, are quite mild. Others generate enough airflow to rip a body apart. Most of those are installed with collectors to harness the wind as energy. As our technology has improved over time, we’ve been able to reroute and repurpose the distribution of air to better suit our changing needs.”
He pointed up at the stone ceiling high above. “The natural rock itself provides illumination, so no artificial lighting is necessary, and geothermal vents prevent the caverns from getting too cold. We had everything we needed to evolve here—air, heat, and light, all naturally occurring in the cavern systems that stretch out across the planet.”
“What do you mean you evolved here?” I asked.
“Come with me,” Boe directed. “I have something to show you. We are going into the vents.”
He walked over to one of the jagged, jet-black holes set into the wall and motioned for me to join him.
“Are you serious?”
; “I am. Don’t tell me you are afraid, Udek.”
“Not at all,” I replied, already in motion.
As I approached, I could hear the wind rushing out of the chamber and flowing into the hole; it tugged at my clothing as I got closer.
“No need to worry, Tien. We installed repeller fields long ago. They will hold your body in the center of the shaft during the ascent so you don’t slam into the rock walls.”
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Up,” he replied, and then Boe backed into the vent. I watched in fascination as he rose slowly up into the air and out of sight, then I followed him in.
I looked down just in time to see my feet rise off the stone floor, instinctively reaching out to push away from the walls as I wobbled unsteadily. But it wasn’t necessary. Just as Boe promised, my body remained centered in the shaft—far away from the coarse and jagged walls. I tilted my head back to look up and saw the Obas about five meters above me.
His voice echoed through the shaft. “Are you okay, Udek?”
“I am,” I replied.
“Good. We will come to another chamber in a few moments, where you will see several sets of handgrips set around an egress hole leading out of the shaft. Grab one of them and use it to pull yourself through the portal and out of the vent.”
“Understood.”
The walls of the vent glowed faintly—just as the ceiling had in the chamber we’d just left—providing more than enough light to view my immediate surroundings. As my eyes adjusted further, I was able to take in an even greater amount of detail. I caught my reflection in a polished section of rock adjacent to where the Obas had mounted one of the repellers—experiencing a moment of confusion when I saw the Brenin face looking back at me. But then I remembered who and what I was…and where. I was an Udek spy, trapped in a Brenin body, ascending through a mountain deep beneath the oceans of Obas.
Surreal didn’t seem adequate to describe the situation.
“We are here,” Boe announced.
I studied his movements as he grabbed one of the metal handles, tucked in his legs, and then pulled himself through the brightly lit portal. When my turn came, I repeated the actions, grabbing another of the handgrips and following him through, albeit much less elegantly.
We lightly dropped to the floor of another stone chamber, naturally carved out of the mountain, but this small room was dominated by a dark pool of water that disappeared underneath the far wall. Diving suits hung on a bar suspended from the ceiling, and two small benches were placed side by side along one of the rounded walls.
“This,” Boe said, gesturing at the water, “is one of our breeding pools. Every Obas that has ever lived came from a pool just like it. There are countless thousands of them, branching off from hundreds of vents around the planet.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” I admitted.
Boe walked over to the pool, motioning for me to follow. “Look in the water,” he directed.
I peered down into the murky shallows and saw intermittent flashes of white; I leaned in closer to try to determine what they were.
“Eggs,” I stated.
“Yes. The water here is pure and full of nutrients; it’s constantly being replenished from the ocean and filtered by the rocks. There is a tunnel leading from this pool directly out to the open sea.” Boe tapped me on the shoulder to draw my attention and I turned away from the water. “These pools,” he said, “are how we came to inhabit the caves in the first place.”
“Are you telling me that the Obas evolved from the ocean?”
“I am. The eggs have always been deposited here, and when they hatched, our young used to swim out through the channels to live out their entire existence in the sea. But long ago, our ancestors began swimming back into these caverns—exploring them. Eventually, they began to crawl out of the pools and adapted to breathing the air pushed in by the brill. Over time, we evolved accordingly, able to live in both environments. And as the eons passed, we eventually chose to inhabit the safer mountain spaces exclusively, eschewing the deep water for a dry existence. We still swim of course, and our internal structures allow us to adapt to any depth or pressure—this was critical to our early survival when the cave environments varied so greatly. But as you can see, all of the caverns are now pressurized to sea level, and the excess air is converted to energy, or vented out high above us into the atmosphere.”
“But what about the Obas on the surface?” I asked. “Certainly they didn’t swim up from this depth.”
“No. The original surface dwellers rode the vents up. We don’t know if it was accidental or intentional, but some of them made it all the way to the top. It was a perilous journey without repellers, and the bottoms of the vents are still littered with the bones of those that were unsuccessful. But some of them did survive, and they settled above—on the mountaintops that broke through the surface of the ocean. Over time, a few even made their way back, weighing themselves down with rocks and using low-flow vents to gradually sink back down to the caverns.”
Boe gestured over at the shaft we’d used to get here. “Eventually, it became commonplace to use these vents to travel to the surface and back. And as technology improved, we found different ways to make the journey much safer. But with the advent of ships, this manner of transport fell into disuse altogether—except for fishing at different depths for hard to find food species, or for sport. And, of course, to use the breeding pools.”
I looked back down at the eggs, marveling at the journey the ancient Obas had made from the ocean floor to the surface, ultimately making their way into space. From everything I knew it was a singular experience, one not shared by any other race. The humans may have similarly evolved from the oceans of their home world, but certainly not into—and beyond—such a unique biosphere.
Boe stood at my side and stared into the pool as well. “Imagine, Tien, crawling out of the sea and into these massive caverns—thinking that you’d found a whole new world, and then again, when the first Obas saw the surface and a sky full of stars. When they brought this news back to the caverns there was chaos. We have records of the madness that ensued. But we eventually adapted…as we always have. But then, we learned that we weren't the only inhabited planet in the galaxy—that the stars were full of life—and some of it was extremely violent. Well…it was more than even we could manage.”
He took a deep breath and shuddered. “Now, do you understand why we keep to ourselves? Why we stay on our own world? It is enough, Tien. We have seen enough.”
Maybe I did understand; I certainly saw how their history drove them to this reckless view. But understanding it didn’t make it right. Isolation wasn’t a valid response to the problems the Obas were facing, and I told Boe as much. “So you arm yourselves to the teeth and hope no one comes knocking on the door. It’s a foolish approach to life, and quite frankly, it doesn’t work.”
“Maybe not for you, Udek. But it does for us. It is our way. It will always be our way.”
For one more day, perhaps.
But I knew better than to continue the argument; it was no use trying to convince the Obas to be anything other than what they were. They had generations of evolution and experience telling them to stay home—to stay safe through subterfuge and isolation. And to their credit, it had worked up till now.
Frustrated, I decided to change the subject and gestured over at the hanging dive suits. “Why would you ever need those?”
“Ah.” He smiled. “Occasionally, the eggs need tending or medical examinations. We use the suits to dive without having to make the switch to water breathing. The transition takes time and is often…unpleasant. Our scientists speculate that eventually, we may even lose the ability to breath water altogether. But I think that would take several more generations for that to happen.”
He grabbed one of the suits off the rack and tossed it to me.
“Let’s go for a swim,” he said. “There is something else you need to see.”
> I caught the outfit midair and looked it over skeptically. “I don’t see how I can possibly get my legs in here.”
Boe walked over and hit a release button that caused the legs to pop open wider—deploying built-in side panels that greatly increased their size.
“For egg bearers,” he explained. “Pregnant Obas do get rather large.
Despite the adjustments I still struggled pull the suit on, but I eventually managed, sealing my head inside the clear, round helmet last. It was tight where it should have been loose, and loose where it should have been tight, but Boe assured me that it would be fine before donning his own suit with practiced precision.
We stepped up to the edge of the pool and started shuffling down the gently sloped decline, barely noticing the water as it swept over our bodies to submerge us completely. I moved slowly—mindful of where I placed my feet—then Boe walked ahead to guide me. I followed his path step for step. There were eggs everywhere—some smaller and harder to spot than others, so it was best to be extremely cautious.
Boe’s hollow voice rang through my helmet, sounding tinny. “I didn’t think you’d be able to swim in your present form…as a Brenin, I mean. But it’s only a short distance to the outside, walking there won’t take long.”
His voice fell away, and I was left with the sound of my own breathing filling my ears. I took a moment to look around; noting with interest that the path we followed was barely tall enough to walk upright. Fortunately, the walls gave off plenty of light, and we were able to avoid the occasional sharp rock jutting down from the ceiling. That same illumination sparkled off tiny, transparent organisms that were drifting along with the mild current; one of them alighted on my helmet briefly before propelling itself away again.
The buoyancy felt pleasant as we moved forward through the water, reminding me of my own Udek body and the last time I’d actually been swimming. It was almost two years ago, on Hyer.
I’d been sent there by the Corp to recover from injuries I’d sustained on an exceptionally dangerous mission—one that I’d rather forget, but would probably never would. Dasi joined me while I recuperated, and it was the first time in years that we’d been able to spend so much time together. I recalled how much she enjoyed swimming there—going to the beach almost every single day, and spending hours at a time in the ocean. It was a good time, a great time…a time we needed to have. My assignments had always kept me away, and Dasi never knew when, or even if, I was coming back. But there, on Hyer, she was happy.
