The Chaos Sutra

by Gregg Vann

  I remembered the planet’s rich methane atmosphere, and how we’d been freed from the respirators we were forced to wear on almost every world but our own. I recalled fondly how relaxed and content we’d been…for a few months anyway. But then I was healed, and sent off again on another mission. And Dasi returned home to Rilen, to wait patiently—without complaint—for my uncertain return.

  She deserved better.

  “We are almost there,” Boe said, interrupting my thoughts. “Watch your step at the edge.”

  The edge? The edge of what?

  And then I saw it, the cave opening that lead out to the open ocean. And beyond it, a field of lights extending as far as the eye could see. We were high above Edo, and as we stepped out of the cave, I stared down in wonder at the massive city below—doubting that anyone could ever grow immune to that view. We were even higher than the giant, pedestaled domes, and I could look down inside them with ease. I realized then how deceptively far we’d travelled up the vents during our short journey.

  “Follow me,” Boe said, stepping out onto a narrow ledge that snaked out across the face of the mountain.

  I trailed along behind him, placing my back against the rock wall, and my feet end to end on the uneven sliver of rock extending out from the face of the mountain. We followed the trail carefully as it led away from the mouth of the cave, Boe setting a slow yet steady pace. After ten meters or so of stinted progress, the footpath became gradually wider, and we were able to step out away from the mountain and move normally.

  The trail reminded me a little of the perilous route I’d taken on Nilot, of when I’d tried to save Dasi and failed, but when I spun around to look back at the mountainside that remembrance died. This was definitely not Nilot…not even close.

  The red sea-grass, the brill, completely enveloped the mountainside, silently…peacefully, swaying with the current. This close to the plants, I was able to see hundreds of tiny fish swimming between the thick, flat blades that extended out from the brill’s center stalks. Further up the mountain, at the point where the city’s light faded away into the blackest nothingness, I saw the dark shapes of much larger fish, hovering over the brill and searching for the prey hidden in its midst. There was life everywhere; the entire mountain was covered with it. Curious, I reached out to touch one of the brill and it slowly withdrew from my hand, retracting back into its thick center core. When I pulled my arm back, it re-emerged, expanding again to full size.

  “This is our life,” Boe said through the helmet speakers. “The brill fed us when we lived in the oceans; to this day, we still capture the fish it attracts for food. It brought us out of the sea and gave us air, eventually sending us to the surface to tame this world…and to learn all about the threats beyond it. The powerful vents it feeds provide all of the electricity for our cities. It is our food, our air, and our power. The brill is Obas. And if the Brenin poison it, we will surely die. They know this.”

  “Yes, they do,” I said, flicking my fingers across the top of the brill and watching the response. “But I also know that we’ll find a way to stop them. I’ve never given up on anything before, and I certainly don’t intend to do so now.”

  This was about more than just one planet; we had to stop the Brenin here…at Obas. If not, Bodhi Prime would be next to fall, then Jilo, Blenej, Volas—eventually, even the Udek Confederation would succumb. There would be nothing left, and Dasi and I would have nowhere to go.

  I looked over to see Boe’s lips moving inside his helmet, but quickly realized that he wasn’t talking to me. My helmet speaker crackled and he was back.

  “We have to return to Edo, now. The Brenin are sending out a vanguard to meet our advance fleet.”

  “Let’s go,” I replied, sensing his urgency.

  But before we started our journey back to the breeding pool, I took one last look at the brill, then at the brightly-lit city below—curious about what this would all look like a day from now.

  Wondering, if any of it would still be here at all.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I was stepping out of the breeding pool when I collapsed.

  Lying curled up on the floor—rolled up tightly in a trembling mass—memories flashed through the unbearable pain. I remembered ducking my head often as we returned through the rock passage we’d taken out to the ocean—walking as quickly as we could while still avoiding the eggs. I recalled seeing the bright light emanating from the pool opening just ahead of us, and quickening our pace just a little more in response. Finally, I remembered the difficult walk up the sloped, stone floor to exit the water, my Brenin legs occasionally bound up by the ill-fitting Obas suit.

  It was during that exertion that the discomfort first started; a mild ache that rapidly exploded into a searing agony—shooting through my head like a thousand needleblades. I may have screamed; I’m not sure. I do know that I pulled off my helmet and fell to the floor, clutching at my temples. My eyes squeezed shut involuntarily, but I forced them back open to find Boe kneeling down over me.

  “What is it?” he said with concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “Seeris,” I panted, finding it hard to breath…even harder to think. “Seerrrii…aaaaaaaaa!”

  I rolled over on my back and my head hit the stone floor. Relief! I lifted it up and slammed it back down again, this time intentionally. I did this over and over again until Boe grabbed my head to stop me.

  “The pain! I must…stop…the…”

  Then I heard myself screaming. Yes, I was sure this time; it was me—a blood curdling cry so disturbing that it would push people back in horror rather than pulling them in closer to help. I was yelling so hard that my throat choked up from the effort. Again, I found myself fighting for air—my chest rocked by useless spasms in a futile attempt to breathe. But it was an effort that brought no relief. And then, as abruptly as it began, the knives slicing through my mind began to retract, receding back to where they’d originated—returning to the tortured pit of Seeris’ failing consciousness. As the pain diminished, I was able to think again.

  He was struggling to be heard, I realized. Seeris is not dead yet.

  I opened my eyes again and fought to sit up. Boe helped me lean forward.

  “Are you alright,” he asked.

  “I believe so. But this Brenin is dying…” I explained. “I can feel it now.”

  “And what happens to you if he dies?”

  “I really don’t know; I doubt anyone does.”

  With a great deal of difficulty, I managed to get my legs back underneath me and pushed myself up, standing solidly. I ran my fingers across the back of my head and was surprised to find no blood or torn skin. I quickly checked over the rest of my body and found no discernible damage from the incident.

  “Are you healthy enough to travel?” Boe asked.

  “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

  He looked at me dubiously before walking over to the vent and peering down the shaft to make sure it was clear. “We are going up one more level,” he explained. “We can board a seacar there and make our way to the operations center to join Speaker Lews and the others.”

  We pulled off our diving suits and I handed mine to Boe; he tossed them both back over the hanging bar where they sent a steady trickle of water onto the floor below. The Obas looked at me once again—making sure I was ready to go—before stepping into the vent to begin drifting upward. This time, I followed him into the shaft without hesitation.

  When we reached the next level, I grabbed one of the waiting handholds, just as I’d done before. But this time I found myself dropping into a much larger room. Several Obas ignored us as they went about their business, re-fueling or otherwise servicing the dozen or so seacars lined up neatly in the garage. I noted that one of the vehicles was set apart from the others; its dome was open, and a technician was leaning inside, looking over the flight panel.

  The entire back of the chamber was open to the sea, and I saw a ten-meter high wall of water being held ba
ck by a familiar type of technology—albeit one I’d only seen used in space before. It was a semipermeable force field.

  “Master Pilot,” one of the Obas said, turning to greet Boe. “We were told to expect you. The one out front is ready to go.”

  “Thank you,” Boe replied, making no further comment as he strode toward the craft.

  I followed him over to the two-person vehicle, dropping into the passenger seat and stuffing my legs under the console as best I could. Boe leapt into the car as well, pulling the clear dome closed as we rose into the air. We hovered for a moment as he switched on an opaque display set into the car’s dome; a multicolored representation of the city popped up, each dome identified by name and purpose. I watched as he zoomed in on one section of the metropolis and tapped twice on a medium-sized dome, causing a blinking dot to appear. A green line extended out from the dot, linking our present location and obvious destination, then Boe flipped a switch on the control panel and leaned back in the seat. We flew slowly through the force field and out into the ocean beyond—the seacar now ferrying us to the blinking dot on autopilot.

  Boe continually adjusted the engines as we hurtled toward Edo, coaxing every bit of power from them—pushing so hard that an alarming, high-pitched whine became audible inside the cockpit. And that velocity remained constant, even as we reached the city and began winding through its intricately placed structures. But despite our speed, I was still able to look inside the domes, noticing far less movement than when I’d first arrived at Edo. The Obas were securing everything, preparing for the Brenin attack, and other than the heavy flow of military spacecraft heading to the surface—to eventually make their way into space—the local water traffic was much lighter than before.

  The total trip took less than fifteen minutes, ending when Boe turned off the autopilot to take the controls himself—manually piloting the seacar toward one of the domes. I watched out ahead of us as a round portal irised open, and then we flew straight inside the traditional airlock. The door sealed up tightly behind us, and Boe tapped on the console impatiently as the water drained out. When the cycle was complete and the interior door finally opened, we sailed through it and into another garage—roughly the same size as the one where we’d procured the seacar. The canopy popped open before we even touched down, locking into place as Boe expertly nestled the craft into a parking space between two other cars.

  The garage personnel stared at me as we hopped out of the seacar and started heading toward the exit, but they didn’t challenge our presence. They’d obviously been informed of our impending arrival, but for an Obas, hearing that an alien is coming and actually seeing it in person were two very different experiences. I was grateful for their subdued reactions.

  “I never imagined that I would be bringing an off-worlder to one of our military domes,” Boe said, echoing the unspoken sentiments of his fellow Obas in the room.

  “If it’s any consolation,” I replied. “I never imagined you even had military domes.”

  “That was by design, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  We left the hangar, passing through hallway after hallway at a brisk pace, moving ever deeper into the dome. I discovered quickly that the building was full of soldiers, and each one we encountered gave me the same look of disbelief—they all stepped aside to give us a wide berth as well. Finally, we came to a large door at the end of a particularly long corridor. Two armed guards, one male and one female, were stationed at a desk in front of it.

  Boe approached the pair first. “I am Master Pilot Boe,” he announced. “I am expected.”

  “Yes, we know,” the female guard replied. Both soldiers looked at me warily as she turned to her display and tapped in a few commands. “I’ve informed them that you are here.”

  The guards sat silently while we waited, and then the door flew open and Peq came out. “Finally,” he exclaimed. “Come in…quickly now…”

  He darted back inside and we strode past the desk to follow him in. The guard’s eyes never left us—more specifically, they never left me.

  I found myself standing in a large room full of military personnel, most seated at four rows of interlinked work consoles—arranged in the shape of a chevron. The “point” faced an immense video screen mounted on a wall at the front of the room. The seated technicians were intently going over the information that flashed across their respective displays, but some of them did look up briefly as we entered the room before returning to their work.

  Approximately twenty other Obas stood together in a group at the front of the room, all staring up at the large display—their attention drawn there by another Obas in military garb. From the structural design visible behind his seated position, I could tell that he was on a ship; his deep voice was echoing throughout the room.

  “No, Speaker Lews. They haven’t responded to any of our attempts at communication. Scanners indicate that exactly one hundred ships have broken away from their main formation and are headed our way. Our combined speeds will place us in contact in approximately nine hours.”

  “Thank you, Master Pilot Mems. The balance of our fleet is now gathering in orbit to prepare. We continue to work diligently on the shield issue as well.”

  “Understood, sir. Our sensors indicate that their shield isn’t currently active, but I’m certain it will be by the time we converge.”

  “Unfortunately,” Lews replied, “I think you are right. If we develop any new information, we will let you know immediately.”

  “Yes sir.”

  The screen blanked for a second and then Mem’s image was replaced by a map of the local sector. Both fleets were shown heading toward one another on a nearly perfect trajectory, along with the current position and corresponding velocity of every ship in both formations. The Obas advance fleet outnumbered the Brenin vanguard two-to-one, but I knew that those numbers were utterly meaningless.

  The Obas were rightfully proud of their heavily weaponized ships, and hopeful that they could prevail against this threat. It was, after all, the culmination of their worst nightmares—the outside galaxy finally coming to Obas. They had meticulously planned for just this event—used their abundant resources to build and maintain an impressive fleet of warships. And now, they were relying on that tremendous firepower to save their planet.

  I just didn’t think it would be enough.

  Many races had already faced the Brenin, and they had all lost. Most had fielded smaller or less ably equipped fleets than the Obas, but the Udek had sent comparably armed forces into battle against them on several occasions, and we’d still ended up licking our wounds…each and every time. No. Unless we came up with something more, I didn’t like the Obas chances at all.

  I looked down from the screen to see Speaker Lews approaching us.

  “Master Pilot…Tien. I’m sure you both just watched the update.”

  “We did,” I confirmed.

  “Our first trial is in nine hours. And I don’t mind telling you that I’m concerned.”

  “As well you should be,” I said.

  “Yes, well… Have you gained any insight into why the Brenin have so strongly devoted themselves to poisoning our world?”

  “Actually, Speaker Lews, I think I have. Boe showed me one of your breeding pools, one of thousands if I understand correctly. Am I also right in assuming that you intentionally limit Obas reproduction?”

  Lews looked surprised. “Well, we did in ancient times, based on available habitat. But that hasn’t been an issue for a few thousand years. There are plenty of environmentally regulated caverns, and we can adapt even more of them if we wish…and we have our cities, of course. Reproductive constraint is no longer an issue.”

  “Actually,” I disagreed, “that is an issue for the Brenin. An egg bearing species could re-populate quickly after the Brenin fleet moves on. You would be able to replenish your numbers, and rebuild your civilization, much faster than the rest of us. And the Brenin know it.”

 
“But if they destroy our habitat…” Lews said.

  “Exactly. You will be gone, for good. The Brenin may have tried to subjugate or exploit you, if Obas had anything they needed, but there is nothing here for them. That, coupled with your deviousness in hiding both your population and the fleet, convinced them that they are better off annihilating you completely. In doing so, they no longer have to worry about you becoming a problem later.”

  “Later? They plan on coming back?”

  I gave him the short version; they could find out the rest when they undoubtedly debriefed Boe later. “They want to assure safe passage for themselves back to their home planet—so they can return whenever they wish without any possible interference from us.”

  “I see,” Lews said tiredly. “I always saw this as an all or nothing scenario, but I’m even more convinced of it now.”

  He waved an assistant over. “Vilk, provide these two with guest quarters so they can rest. I’m going to try to relax as well…while we have the opportunity. There is nothing to be done now, and we will all need our wits about us when the battle begins. I’ll send for you in eight hours to witness the engagement with the Brenin.”

  Vilk stepped forward and motioned for us to follow him out.

  I caught Speaker Lews before he walked away. “May I have a dataslate with library access? There is some research I’d like to do.”

  He looked at me curiously for a moment, and then over at Vilk. “Get him one…with limited access of course. Lock out anything even remotely classified as a precaution.” The assistant nodded, and then Lews left to confer with some of his waiting advisors.