The Chaos Sutra

by Gregg Vann

  “Of course,” the Udek replied.

  Despite Tien’s assurances that nothing would ever be good enough to stop the Udek from trying to kill him, General Cilos wasn’t the type to just give up and await the inevitable. Then again, doing nothing wasn’t exactly a viable option either. As the general spun around to leave the room, Tien turned his attention back to Fenra, saying, “Thank you, Doctor. Until next time.” And then he and Boe followed Cilos out into the hallway, making their way toward the hospital’s exit.

  As the pair pushed through the doors at the main entrance, they stepped out into an immense undersea cavern, replete with dozens of tall buildings, and hundreds of smaller structures spread out in every direction. Vehicles of varying size and purpose floated gently through the air, or moved along well-placed paths on the ground, ferrying countless Obas about their daily activities in every part of the massive enclosure. Still others were using the ubiquitous transport tubes that connected the entire Obas civilization, racing toward assorted undersea destinations all across the planet for work or leisure. In the distance, Tien saw several Obas vanish into the transport hangars positioned on the periphery of the cavern, bound for one of the private or governmental vehicles parked there. Dozens of airlocks spaced throughout the hangars emptied directly into the sea, providing ready access to virtually any spot on the planet.

  Tien looked up and saw the stone ceiling overhead, its natural glow bathing the enormous space in soft illumination. He also noted the colossal transparent cylinders pushing out beyond the cavern’s natural boundaries, stretching almost two kilometers above them into the open ocean. These Obas-made extensions allowed them to construct much taller buildings than permitted by the cavern’s original dimensions—a size that was already considerable. And Tien observed that every square inch of that additional space had been purposefully filled, and utilized with the utmost degree of efficiency. But the resulting effect wasn’t one of clutter, or claustrophobia-inducing closeness. If anything, the cavern felt grand, and, well…cavernous. Yet there was still an overall sensation of confinement.

  For Tien, anyway.

  There were other feats of Obas engineering that were even more remarkable. Unlike the naturally occurring cavern Tien was presently traveling through, the Obas also built cities beneath massive domes out in the open ocean, constructed on stout pedestals fastened deep into the underlying bedrock. Some of these transparent domes were several kilometers in diameter, and housed actual metropolises with significant populations. Others were much smaller, depending on the size of the local community, or the needs of a specific industry. But the views from each these faux-glass structures—regardless of purpose or location—was invariably stunning.

  There were undersea mountain vistas and colorful schools of fish, and steady streams of Obas moving from place to place in a plethora of commercial conveyances and personal transports. Other nearby domes and undersea structures added to the unique atmosphere, lighting up the depths with their warm and diffused radiance. But in spite of this beauty—the unparalleled spectacle of undersea cities framed by a boundless ocean—the water outside still seemed more like a barrier to Tien than another world to be explored.

  Maybe that was because, unlike the Obas, Tien couldn’t live in the oceans. For him, the sea was no more accessible than the space between the stars—and required most of the same precautions just to survive. And though he appreciated the architecture and engineering involved, the artistry required to create such magnificent and complex structures, this world still felt alien and inaccessible to him. No matter how much time Tien spent on the planet, Obas just wasn’t home.

  And he doubted it ever would be.

  The Udek home world of Ko’ln, Tien’s birthplace, was much more vast in both size and scale, and truly open. There were grand pathways between the well-spaced buildings of the capital cities, each of them lined with multi-colored floral arrangements, and elaborate sculptures depicting heroes from antiquity. And everywhere you looked, you witnessed the effects of the unusual sky above. The methane-rich atmosphere, air Tien could breathe without a mask, rendered the heavens a pinkish red. Ko’ln’s twin suns cast that colorful tinge across the entire surface of the planet, shading city and undeveloped land alike in a wash of resplendent hues. People always praised Volas and Blenej for their beauty, often citing those worlds as the most spectacular planets in the galaxy. But that was only because so few had ever been to Ko’ln.

  Nostalgia aside, Tien was also a realist, and he understood the less happy aspects of his home quite well—the things that had directly led to his exile on Obas. While the cities and countryside of Ko’ln were wide open, the Udek government was notoriously closed and insular. And that inverse reality was responsible for most of the abuses plaguing the population. But despite all of the problems, the pain and troubles associated with Ko’ln and its militaristic leadership, it was still Tien’s home. It was also a home that he would never see again.

  “Are you all right?” Boe asked.

  Tien suddenly realized that he’d stopped moving. He was staring at the cavern ceiling, high above them, lost in his thoughts. “Yes,” he replied. “Of course. I think the medicine Doctor Fenra gave me is causing my mind to wander.”

  “In those doses,” Boe replied, “I would imagine so.”

  They approached a public transport stand and settled into an available dome car. Though the Obas could easily use the air vents that riddled their planet for transportation—the shafts provided easy access to the surface above, and the many different levels of the cities below—most availed themselves of more modern conveniences. These days, the vents were mainly used for sporting competitions, or for traveling to hard-to-reach breeding pools. But for everyday transport, the majority of Obas chose easier options. Boe input the coordinates that would take them directly to Tien’s private chamber, and then they lifted off the ground and into motion.

  “You seemed troubled,” he said to Tien.

  “It’s been weeks since the attack, but I can’t get it out of my mind. Zrea got much further than any of the others. It was close. Very close.”

  “So I heard. And you’re still convinced that they will never give up?”

  “I am. I’ve upset some powerful people on Ko’ln, inside different agencies of the military and the government. The Udek aren’t known for letting grudges die, or allowing revenge to go unfulfilled. To be honest, I’m surprised they haven’t sent more operatives over the last year and a half. But I’m beginning to think the Special Corp ranks were decimated during the Brenin War. I haven’t encountered anyone I know yet, so maybe most of the old guard is dead. I wonder how many fully trained agents the Corp has left.”

  “One less, after this attempt,” Boe pointed out.

  “For what that’s worth.”

  The dome car dipped into a passageway hollowed through the dense rock of the cavern wall, and then it began descending a long, vertical shaft. It eventually settled down onto a small landing pad, barely large enough for a single vehicle.

  “We’ve arrived,” Boe announced, and they both got out—Tien with some difficulty. They stepped into an adjacent corridor, and the Obas pilot looked in both directions to confirm that it was empty. “I will leave you here,” he said.

  “I understand,” Tien replied in amusement. “If you go any further, you’ll have to put on an oxygen mask.” The Udek used his good hand to indicate the methane variant he was wearing. “Your people aren’t very keen on using assisted breathing apparatus, are they? Which is odd, given your living circumstances.”

  “It is…unnatural for us,” Boe admitted. “When we enter the water, we adapt to breathe water. And when we’re in an oxygen atmosphere, we do the same. To employ something artificial for the transition seems wrong.”

  “Yet, the Obas use diving suits,” Tien said.

  Boe nodded. “For expedience and convenience, only. If they fail, we can still breathe in the water—after a brief physiological adjustment. But
if an oxygen mask breaks down inside a methane environment, we’ll die if we don’t get out in time. For us, that possibility takes some getting used to. One of the most difficult parts of the Master Pilot program is the spacesuit training we conduct in orbit. Many Obas fail at that stage, simply because they fear the suit. Though, technically speaking, I suppose it’s the vacuum that really terrifies them.”

  “It’s strange,” Tien said. “I’ve lived with the possibility of apparatus failure my entire life. Most of my assignments were on oxygen worlds, and if I’d ever run into trouble, I would have never made it back to my ship in time. But I never really thought about it.”

  “Then you are fortunate,” Boe replied sincerely.

  “Probably so.”

  “Thank you for agreeing to the escort,” the Obas said, signaling his farewell. “One can never be too cautious. When you’ve healed, perhaps we can do some vent flying. Or take a trip up to the surface with your family. I know how much you all enjoy the sky, despite having to wear masks.”

  “I would like that,” Tien replied. “And I think Dasi is looking forward to more vent training.”

  “Excellent. Then I’ll arrange it.”

  Boe took one last look around before walking back to the dome car, leaving Tien alone near the entrance to his living chamber. Tien paused briefly at the door and stared down the corridor. The Obas had done a good job cleaning up after the fight—leaving no trace of the brutal encounter behind. But Tien knew that it was right here where Zrea had ambushed him.

  Just outside his home.

  No, Tien thought to himself. They will never stop.

  Never.

  Kiro Tien had killed many, many times in his life, and come close to his own death on more occasions than he cared to remember. But he’d never been affected by it before—not like this—because it had only been Tien’s own life in jeopardy, not his family’s.

  Not until Dasi was murdered on Nilot.

  Not until now.

  Tien stepped up to the airlock door and input his security code, and then he waited patiently as several scanning devices confirmed his identity. The door popped open and he went inside, and then it automatically closed again behind him to begin the cycle. When the sound of hissing air finally stopped, Tien removed his mask, drawing in a deep breath of the methane mixture that so tasted of home. He hung up his mask as the inner door opened and Tien walked inside—eager to put the memories of the attack behind him, and determined to focus on happier things.

  Chapter Ten

  Brother Ryll rose up slowly from the floor.

  He braced himself against the wall with one hand, using the other to vigorously rub his temples. Ryll was trying to quash the sharp pain stabbing through his head in unrelenting waves—ebbing and flowing between manageable discomfort, and blinding, near debilitating agony. The effort was largely unsuccessful. It took a moment for the young monk to force his legs to cooperate—to stop trembling uncontrollably, and to lock into place as they should—but Ryll eventually managed. He was still a bit wobbly, maybe even more than a bit, but he was upright.

  That had to count for something.

  Ryll noticed that his hand was resting in a shallow indentation and his eyes drifted down the wall. He saw small globules of coagulating blood sagging to the floor, leaving smeared red streaks behind to mark their passage. The blood was his, and that realization caused confusion and panic to set in, making it difficult for Ryll to get his bearings—to figure out what had happened to him. But then he remembered the attack, and despite his painful injury, Ryll smartly snapped to attention. He looked around, desperate for any signs of Miso or Brother Dyson. But Ryll saw neither, and he headed straight for the door.

  Ryll heard a commotion up ahead and he stumbled toward it, reclaiming greater control over his legs with every step. He reached the room where the disturbing sounds were coming from but Ryll remained out in the corridor, cautiously peering through the door to find out what was happening. He arrived just in time to see Miso kill Brother Dyson. Ryll stifled a scream, staring transfixed as the android transferred his mentor’s soul into the old chamber they’d recovered from Ulor XI. His breath caught in horror at the sight of Dyson’s body, casually discarded on the ground like so much refuse. Ryll continued to hold that breath so Miso wouldn’t discover he was there. If that happened, he knew he would share Brother Dyson’s fate. Ryll’s fear was so strong that even his thoughts manifested as whispers.

  At least Miso preserved Brother Dyson’s soul. But to what end?

  Ryll could hear Miso speaking to the transference machinery, issuing a string of unusual and convoluted instructions. But the trauma to his skull had muted all of Ryll’s senses, and he couldn’t make out exactly what the android was saying.

  What do I do now? he asked himself.

  Brother Ryll knew he was no match for Miso’s android body; that fact was indisputable. And there were no weapons on the ship to help even things out—to give Ryll a fighting chance. But even if there were, he was a Buddhist monk, not a soldier. Ryll was far out of his depth now, and well beyond anything his life experiences or training had prepared him for. But there had to be something… Ryll couldn’t give up. He just couldn’t.

  Brother Dyson would know what to do; he always did. Ryll’s master often spoke of the infinite number of answers supplied by the universe, a correct one for each situation. One only needed to know where to look to find them, and that answer was invariably the same: within yourself. Ryll had always understood this as a push for introspection and self-discovery, but now he grasped Brother Dyson’s lesson in a way he never had before. It was about self-reliance. Ryll was on his own. And if he wanted answers, it would be up to him to find them.

  As Miso continued working on the soul chamber—distracted by some difficulty, it seemed—Ryll leaned back away from the door. Brother Dyson’s death, and Ryll’s own injuries, highlighted the extent of their recklessness. They should have realized. Should have known… No one had ever spent so much time in a soul chamber before; the machines weren’t designed for such extended use. A year would be an unpleasant ordeal. Decades? Pure torture. But centuries? Well of course Miso lost his mind.

  We should have left him for dead.

  Ryll then recalled one of Brother Dyson’s favorite sayings. Unless you have a time machine, there is little reason to dwell on the past. Yes. It was the present that mattered now—the only thing that mattered, so Ryll would expend his mental energies on something more useful than the remorse and regret he was feeling. He would focus on solutions. Ryll knew he’d need help to free his master from that murderous madman, but he would have to save himself first. An idea formed in his mind, and some of Ryll’s panic fell away as it developed into an actual plan. One by one, the details of how best to implement it snapped into place, and Brother Ryll’s predilection for organization overrode his fear as piece after piece of the giant puzzle sorted itself out—taking final shape in his still-throbbing head. He glanced into the room once more to make sure Miso was still occupied, and then Ryll began quietly moving toward the rear of the ship. He quickly crossed the short corridor attaching the vessel’s two fuselages together—the stout, cross-connector that gave the ship its distinctive H-shape. And then Brother Ryll located the nearest escape pod.

  You can do this, he told himself. You must do this.

  Ryll leapt inside the pod and pulled the hatch closed behind him, spinning the X-shaped handle until the internal seals clamped firmly into place. He felt a slight pressure differential in his ears as the pod established its own atmosphere—equal to, yet independent from the ship’s. Ryll dismissed the sensation and reached for the controls, programming a course that would set his bold plan into motion. He then triggered the small craft’s automated launch sequence.

  Ryll couldn’t make it all the way back to Bodhi Prime in the escape pod; the planet was simply too far away. But even if he could get home it wouldn’t do him any good, because the help he required was somewhere els
e entirely. Unfortunately, that destination also lay beyond the pod’s certified range—if just barely—confirmed by the dire warnings flashing across the screen when Ryll input the coordinates. But what choice did he have? Brother Ryll knew he would have to chance it.

  A loud voice called out over the ship’s intercom system, made even louder by the tiny confines of the pod.

  Ryll flinched.

  {Well, aren’t you a sly one, Ryll? And here I thought all you were capable of was following Brother Dyson around and holding on to the hem of his robe. Imagine my surprise when the ship informed me that an escape pod was being prepared for launch. Or did you forget that I have full access to all of the Bodhi systems? With Dyson dead, there is no one left with equal clearance. Though as his assistant, I’m sure you can get whatever you need without too much difficulty. It would have been much wiser for Dyson to rescind my codes after I left, don’t you think? But the old fool was always weak and sentimental, and that flaw in his character turned out to be quite fatal in the end. Now, why don’t you come back out of that pod and meet me, Brother Ryll? And let’s get all of this unpleasantness over with. I’ll send you back to the Wheel quickly and painlessly. I promise}

  The young monk was terrified. In fact, Brother Ryll had never been more scared in his entire life. But sometimes, and in the most unlikely of people, terror breeds courage. It’s easy for the gallant to act decisively; it’s in their nature. But the timid must rise above their fears to win the day. Isn’t that the better measure of bravery? Brother Ryll would not permit his fear to paralyze him. And he refused to surrender—knowing that doing so would not only doom him, but Brother Dyson as well. Ryll controlled his own fate, not Miso, and he would not allow himself to die. He glanced over at the control panel, relieved to find the launch sequence too far along to be halted—from within the ship, anyway. So no matter what level of clearance Miso had, the escape pod was going to launch. And there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.