by Marc Secchia
“Ash, your vitals are poor,” Medic Tamanzi said. “Be careful – oh.”
The digital holo display on what appeared to be a surface-fused limpet mine read 01:17. Counting down.
The Oraman girl growled, “I’ve got this.”
Tamanzi said, “Ash, I think you’ve been poisoned. I’m putting in everything your suit has, alright? But you’ve got to get back here to the surface, stat. We might need to filter it out – no idea what the compound is.”
Isska hissed, rocking back and forth. Alodeé shared a terrified glance with them and Asmurti.
Tomaxx said tautly, “Not to bother anyone, but Maruski’s found another explosives package on the main base generator.”
Ash said, “Show me the pic.” Her hands bobbed and weaved frantically, burrowing into the wiring atop the mine. “Come on, stat! Tomaxx?”
“Here, darling.”
Alodeé swallowed back a lump the size of a planet. Focus! She narrowed her eyes. “Ash, they’re the same. 5-phase treble bypass Hymon circuit. Like a cipher, right? Switches to your left – Asmurti, thanks –” she took a deep breath as the second display from Maruski’s helmet cam popped up. “Isska, does this cult have any obvious symbology?”
Her father said, “Upside down pentagram. Chimzi, get back. Let’s cover one entrance each. Watch it for crawlies.”
“Check, sir.”
Isska muttered, “It’s colour-coded.”
Ash’s hands fluttered in the display. “Colour? I can’t … oh …”
“Dymand, she’s fading!” Tamanzi cried.
“Stay back! My job!” Ash shouted. “If it goes … you’ve got the miners, right?”
Heart rate slowing. Blood clotting before her eyes. Alodeé read the data threads in despair. Can’t do anything more from up here. Can’t – but help her read the colours –
The display read 00:32.
“From top anticlockwise – green, pink, yellow, red, purple,” Alodeé called. “Ash?”
“Green’s the trap,” the girl muttered. “Makes that … Torc’s fires, I can’t think … red, pink … no. Lift green. Disarm! Maruski … listen …”
Her heart stuttered, then restarted.
“I’ve got you, warrior,” Dymand said, his hands moving into the picture. “Call it.”
Alodeé almost freaked out. Dad!
“Disarm green. Arm red, arm pink. Disarm yellow. Arm green … because pentagonal … Hymon’s bequest, see?”
Ash’s raving. This is bad. Her vitals – oh no!
Alodeé monitored Maruski’s furry fingers making the same precise sequences in the other holo. Two bombs, counting down in sequence through 00:07.
Ash continued, “Disarm purple; disarm red, pink, yellow. Now press … which one?”
00:03.
“Which one?” her Dad yelled. “Which –”
“Pink!” Ash cried.
Two fingers stabbed as one. The displays halted on 00:01.
I can’t breathe!
“Safe!” Maruski crowed. “We’re safe!”
“Chimzi, fire!” Alodeé heard herself scream.
That huge, heavy black mass hurtled into the grotto, bundling the Mermaid out of the way even though she pumped multiple shots into its midsection. Long arachnoid legs trailed behind as the plump body pulsed rapidly, shooting the creature toward Dymand and Ash. Her father carved shots into its mouth, its large compound eyes, but the predator kept right on – as if in a nightmare, Alodeé saw her friend push her father out of harm’s way as the creature came for her. For the explosive? Maybe. Her limp arm dragged backward and sideways, her pulse giving one final lurch as her body went flaccid.
“Tomaxx, I love –”
KERAACK!!
Another explosion ripped through the underwater chamber. All of the readouts died.
Alodeé screamed, “Ash! Dad! Nooo …”
* * * *
Tomaxx’s bellowing rang in her ears as Alodeé stared at the blank readouts. A pulse flickered. Chimzi. She had been farthest from the explosion. No others? None?
Dad, o Holy Resurrection Dawn, I can’t face another parent … DAD!!
A second pulse! Weak, flickering. Her father. Ash’s readout remained blank.
“Oh no, Ashamixx!” Tomaxx cried, switching to Oraman in his despair. Ehlui-torc za-Ashamixx!
Chimzi’s weak voice issued from darkness, “I’ve got Dymand. He’s hurt. Ash … oh precious waves, no. She didn’t make it. Monster’s dead. Very dead.”
Medic Tamanzi said, “Check her vitals, Chimzi. Can you get reads?”
“Half her body’s … gone. Heart’s not even there,” the Mermaid sobbed. Retching noises came over the Comms link.
Isska said, “Link re-established. I’m getting questions from the trapped miners. Patching in the Control Tower. I’ll – separate out for a sec. You don’t need to hear this.” Their hand massaged Alodeé’s shoulder briefly, quivering. “No words for my sorrow.”
No, there aren’t. Ash. Ash! Why did you carry on?
She knew why.
She saw the pretty Oraman’s face in her mind, and thought she might have heard Ash whisper, ‘I had to save those people, precious Alodeé. You understand. Torc’s blessings …’
Maybe this was only an inner easing of a guilty conscience?
Goodbye, dear friend. Rest in … Torc’s blessings.
* * * *
When Chimzi finned up from the deep mine with her father in tow, Alodeé met them 70 mets deep. Free dive. How she did it, she did not know – but grief was a strange beast. She slapped a portable medbot on her Dad’s chest and peered through his visor.
“Man of Dymand?”
He smiled weakly. “Alo … monster. So sorry, I couldn’t …”
“It’s alright, Dad.”
How’s anything like this ever alright?
Bringing him up to the dock, she and Chimzi slipped a skimmer stretcher beneath him and the Med team took over, checking him over. As advertised, his combat skin had kept him alive. Everything inside had been pummelled. Internal bleeding, organ damage, blood leaking from ears, eyes, nose and mouth. Even his fingernails were bruised. Guess she knew a few things about being crushed. Tamanzi worked furiously at her holo display, stabilising him and directing the medbot’s priorities.
At the end of the dock, Tomaxx stared over the blue waters. No breeze would ever ruffle that stiff crew cut, she supposed, eyeing the grief writ in the massive V of his muscular back, in the set of his shoulders. He sighed, turning to her.
“How’s your Dad, Alo?”
“Tamanzi’s got it under control, she says. Gotta have … faith, I suppose.”
He held out his arms. “Need one of these?”
“Never more.”
Sort of swamped her. 64 cents of height difference really was plenty, besides that she was a waif and he was a slab of prime beef, extra lean and scrumptious. My stupid brain. Shut up, Alodeé! Only, the scent of him as she crushed her cheek against his chest was too much. Her shoulders shook as the tears she had been withholding finally overflowed.
He stroked her hair softly with large, blunt fingertips. “It’s not your fault.”
Bombshell! “I … uh …”
“Alo, I’ve known you since the day you pinched my cream dessert out of my hand and tried to cram the whole thing in your tiny mouth –” she chuckled incredulously “– and I’d know your, ‘I’m flogging myself with guilt,’ face from a thousand kloms off.”
“Right. As if.”
Too right, mister. Is there such as thing as knowing someone too well?
They separated by unspoken agreement as miners began to surface one after another on their simple transport handgrips, just off the dock. They carried a heavy body bag with them – no, more bags. Tens of bags. Only one leaked crimson. Alodeé coughed back a sob. This was going to be the hardest thing she had ever done.
Together, they stepped down to help Chimzi and the men swim the casualties to shore.
&
nbsp; Chapter 9
Standard 1301.05.16.19 Cal Week 18. Shattered.
MEDIC TAMANZI UNZIPPED THE body bag and slowly drew back the brown plastic. Ashamixx. She looked serene. The left side of her face and neck were blackened, however and her lips ashen. Tomaxx puffed out his cheeks, making a low wheezing sound in his chest. Alodeé ground her knuckles against her mouth. Tears welled up and flooded down her cheeks, pouring over her hand and down her wrist, unstoppable. Her friend’s life had departed.
Was anything in the Universe more precious, more irreplaceable, than life itself?
The Medic said, “I know you were promised, Tomaxx. As the Oraman believe, she rests in Torc’s Peace now, a heroine ablaze in the Halls of the Warrior Chiefs. Great honour is hers.”
“What happened – down there?” he gulped. “I mean, I saw – the vid – it – she was bitten?”
“Poisoned.” The Medic pointed to two triangular puncture marks on her neck. “Somehow, the fangs of one of those auxiliary spiders got beneath a faulty helmet seal. The poison was a bio-coagulant unfamiliar to me. Ash chose to defuse the two bombs, as you saw, despite the danger of not being able to receive timely treatment. Set against the power source up here, everything within a klom’s radius would have been flattened. Not only did she save all of us, she saved all the men and women trapped inside the mine – and your father, Alodeé, by shoving him out of the way at the last sec. You saw that on the replay.”
Alodeé nodded tearfully. “She did.”
A replay I’ll have nightmares about until the day I die.
He said, “How did it kill her?”
“The miners reported that the arachnid breached the power and Comms lines. It fed off electricity and channelled it in ways that defy our understanding of physics. When Ashamixx inadvertently touched the bare cable and the creature at the same time – that triggered a power surge, killing the creature … and her.”
“She was already beyond saving?” he asked.
Tamanzi nodded, touching her own eyes. “I’m sorry, but that’s my assessment. Her passing was too quick to be painful, as you can see in her face. Such wounds are beyond medical science.”
“May I see?”
“If you need to.”
As the Medic drew the plastic further down, showing the carnage, Alodeé gagged and then spun aside. “I’m sorry,” she gasped wretchedly, between heaves. “I’m so sorry – oh Tomaxx, I should have done – more. Something! On the readouts – the holo – and my stupid, slug-slow brain –”
“This is not your fault,” he grated, but his expression was ravaged. Wetness streaked his cheeks. “We shall weep for Ashamixx. Tears are to her honour.”
To her utter humiliation, Alodeé dissolved. The storm gripped her with claws, digging into her chest, folding her up, wracking her bones.
Mom, we couldn’t save you either – this world – I hate this world! Freaking Resurrection Dawn! Where’s the hope? The light? When something like this happens, when you steal all the goodness out of a person like Ashamixx … for no good reason … WHY?
Arms stole about her, Tamanzi and Asmurti and Isska, holding her in a tight huddle.
Who gave this place such a canid-sucking, idiotic joke of a name? She wanted to scream, scar her face, break something, kill anything! Curse you, Resurrection Dawn – I hate you, hate you, hate! Hate! HATE!!
No, all the tears in the world would never bring back her friend.
Worst of all? She hated that wheedling, oily little voice inside of her that whispered, Now she’s out of the way … you’ve a chance, don’t you?
Tomaxx could never be hers.
Not on this world, not on any. She must be strong for him. Help him grieve; help him face the family who had embraced her as their own and whom she had failed. Utterly, miserably, hopelessly failed.
* * * *
Dawn, two days later, broke in perverse splendour. The seasonal tilting of the planetary rings caused the sun to refract through the great concentric rings, tilted five degrees from the horizontal, down near the horizon. The colours were extraordinary. Central was a dense cluster of lush islands floating in the A-16 horizontal plane. Eleven waterfalls sprang down the tall cliffs north of the city, usually hidden behind the artificial hills. Clouds of enormous, colourful insects and butterflies peeled away from the flight path of two large freighters and nine AVACS vessels, which transported almost all of the miners from Bryllintine Mines to Central.
Thousands waited at the Spaceport, a tide of people dressed in unrelenting white, the Oraman colour symbolising death. Against that stark backdrop, dawn’s glory seemed the more incongruous. A day for mourning spangled in pure light.
Resurrection Dawn could not fool her. Alodeé watched the scene numbly through the front windows of the AVACS. Her father slept in the back, sedated for the journey – but he wanted to be woken for the Oraman Sending Ceremony. A corpse did not tarry, in their culture. Even two days was too many.
Out front and centre of the crowd, Salianixx waited, alone.
Her heart flopped like a dying fish inside her chest. What must Ash’s mother be feeling now? Such awfulness must be beyond comprehension.
After landing, the miners filed out of the freighters and extra AVACS, blinking in the brilliant light. While they formed up in an honour guard, six Oraman marched up to the funeral AVACS. There, they would place Ash’s body in a special casket and adorn her with sacred oils and embalming fluids. Alodeé smoothed her unfamiliar white garb, worn over her combat skin. An Oraman sword hung crosswise upon her back. Honoured as she was to play a part in the ceremony, she felt fake and embarrassed.
Rousing as Medic Tamanzi applied a small stim to his neck, her father smiled upward. “Alodeé?”
Strict orders not to shift one cent. He was a stiff-necked person.
As if I feel amused.
He said, “You’ll honour your friend, Alodeé. This is what the family wanted.”
“I’m not Oraman!”
His eyebrow tweaked upward. “If you dare throw that in their faces –” canid-sucking truth, thanks Dad “– I swear … sorry. I’m hurting. I know you, Alo. I also know that being oath-bound to not one but two Oraman families is a vanishingly rare distinction. So vanishing, I’ve never heard of it before.”
Exactly. Weird, right? You do know me like no other, Dad.
Swallowing her idiotic, mush-for-feelings words, she said, “I will honour her.”
Here came Tomaxx, marching up to the AVACS.
Alodeé rose. She walked down the ramp, meeting him halfway. She bowed formally, very deeply from the waist with her right palm upturned before her, presenting the bundle of Ashamixx’s effects to him. He took them stiffly, his face like graven stone.
“Walk with me, Alodeé.”
“You alright?”
“No.” His pearl-white eyes regarded her briefly. “Thanks for being here.”
“Always.”
She must walk through the horror of death with her friend. It was the least she could do.
The air even smelled aromatic. Ah, twenty smoking Oraman braziers stood at intervals at the front of the crowd. Families lined up before them, military-precise. Every Oraman who lived on Resurrection Dawn must be present. She marched beside Tomaxx, aware that he reduced his long stride to match hers as they joined the funeral AVACS. There they picked up the clear casket, decorated in white lilies, together with the six appointed women from Ash’s family and her heart broke.
Slowly, half-time, they marched out to meet Salianixx.
She was not the only one weeping, even though she knew she looked a bit silly, holding the back corner of the casket above head height. She stood a mere 193 cents in comparison to these giants. Reaching Ash’s mother, they saluted before laying down the casket ceremonially.
Seeing her daughter’s face, a wild, lonely roar ripped from the woman’s throat. She collapsed slowly over the casket, weeping in great, wrenching sobs. Oraman soldiers removed the lid that Salianixx firs
t might kiss her daughter and stroke her face tenderly. Then, she and Alodeé laid her weapons beside the body. One must not depart for the afterlife unarmed. Alodeé thought she had wept herself dry these last days. No chance. A mother’s grief was on another level. Unbearable, bittersweet, a soul’s lamentation – her chest ached in response.
At last, Salianixx turned her face. “Alodeé, you knew Ashamixx. Did my daughter pass with honour?”
“Truly, she died with great honour,” she said, stumbling over the formal words. “All these you see here –” she indicated the huge honour guard “– all these lives and ours, she saved by the mighty deeds of her right hand.”
But I could not save her. I – could – not.
“Thank you, Alodeé. This brings me great comfort. Tomaxx, did my daughter die with honour?”
“Truly, she died with great honour,” he repeated. “All these souls you see gathered here, my mother, stand witness to the mighty deeds of her right hand. We brought vid footage as proof.” He patted his right breast pocket, having to mop his eyes and regather his composure before he continued unsteadily, “We will eat and celebrate with our sister – whom I did love most truly and promised unto the marriage contract.”
“You are my son.”
“You are my mother.”
“Family is one,” they said together.
After that, there was a short but poignant ceremony conducted in Oraman by Giantixx, who sang over the dead together with a number of other Oraman elders. The Oraman families marched past en masse, saluting Ashamixx gravely; last of all, Alodeé accompanied her father’s skimmer stretcher as they did the same. Then, the casket-bearers lifted her up onto a bier set out on one of the blast-pads. Oraman drummers struck up an almighty salute. No wonder she had enjoyed that music! Guess she would never listen to it the same way again.
Seven of the AVACS vessels started up. Their forward weapons oriented upon the bier.
Giantixx cried, “May Ashamixx’s soul be reborn in Torc’s immortal fires!”
As the Oraman congregation roared, the weapons roared louder, obliterating the casket and all it held in a blistering, white-hot hail of plasma.
I am small.
I remember … a blaze.
