The Telemass Quartet

by Eric Brown

  He stared at her, wondering where this might lead.

  She said, “So . . . I’m sober now, Matt Hendrick. Will you please take me back to your hotel?”

  TWO

  HE WAS AWOKEN IN THE EARLY HOURS by the sound of her quiet sobbing. She lay beside him on her stomach, the moonlight delineating the undulating curve of her back. She pressed her face into the pillow as if not wanting to wake him with her crying.

  He rolled from the bed, crossed to the window, and pulled open the curtain. Ivory light cascaded into the room, and he stared out in surprise at the beauty of the double moons sailing high above the darkened jungle.

  He returned and sat beside her on the bed. She turned quickly and stared up at him.

  “Tell me,” he said, thumbing tears from her cheeks.

  She turned over and shuffled herself up against the headboard, drawing her knees up to her small breasts. She didn’t meet his gaze as she said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. It’s nothing.”

  “Nothing is making you cry like this? And nothing made you sob last night, when you were still drunk? I’d hate to see you when you’re really upset.”

  She spluttered a laugh. “I mean . . . It’s nothing I want to trouble you with.”

  He almost shrugged, said okay, and returned to bed. But something about the woman—the way she had made love to him earlier with a tenderness and urgency that belied the idea that he was a mere casual pickup—made him want to help her.

  “Tell me,Tiana,” he said, “and I’ll tell you why I’m really here.”

  She stared at him, her big eyes glistening in the moonlight. He took in her nakedness. He found it hard to tell how old she was. Her skin was flawless, tight like an athlete’s over well-developed muscles. She might have been anything from twenty to thirty-five.

  She murmured, “Last night I said I had business to do in Allay . . .”

  “That’s right. I recall. But what business?”

  “It’s hard to explain.”

  He said, “You’re looking for someone, right?”

  He was gratified by her surprised reaction. “That’s right. But how . . . ?”

  It was merely an intuition, based on experience: her drunkenness last night, her sexual recklessness in propositioning him, her heartfelt tears. A lover had left her, and Tiana was at a loss to work out what to do.

  “A lucky guess,” he said. “Tell me.”

  She shrugged. “I love her. We’ve been together for three years now. She . . . Her mother is part of the Church, but Lalla told me she wanted nothing to do with it.”

  “The Church?” His interest quickened. His contact back on Earth had told him that Maatje was interested in some colonial religious cult here on Avoeli. Could this cult have something to do with the Church, he wondered?

  “They . . . they don’t exactly worship the Avoel gods, or perhaps they do. They’re very secretive. Outsiders aren’t allowed in, except after months of vetting.

  “And Lalla?”

  “Her mother wanted her to be . . . It’s like christening, a ceremony that happens in every disciple’s twenty-fifth year. Lalla was . . . drawn to the belief system.”

  “You told me that she wanted nothing to do with the Church?”

  She looked up at him. “That’s what she told me, Matt, but I’m not sure I believe her. She . . .” Tiana shrugged. “She had a very complex relationship with the Church. I suppose it’s inevitable, if you’re brought up to believe nothing else but what everyone around you says is the truth.”

  “What do they believe?”

  She shrugged her slim shoulders again. “The Avoel have many gods. It’s a form of animism. Nature worship.”

  He opened his mouth in a silent “Ah . . .”

  He said, “When you told me, last night, that you thought the aliens were evil . . .”

  She rubbed tears from her eyes with the heels of her thumbs, then shook her head. “That was the drink talking. I don’t think they’re evil, just . . . incomprehensible.” She smiled like a little girl caught out. “We sometimes think the worst of what we can’t understand, don’t we?”

  “You’re right,” he said. “Tell me what happened.”

  “We had a row. I wanted Lalla to have nothing to do with the Church. They . . . The congregation, I find them creepy. They believe in nothing I believe in. They thought my relationship with Lalla . . . Well, they’re against it. They’re against all forms of what they call . . . promiscuity.”

  “And you, of course, are not?”

  “Isn’t it normal to want to express affection and at the same time take pleasure in your desires?”

  “I would say so, yes. But the Expansion is a big place, and in some places that would be seen as immoral, even evil.”

  He smiled at the contradiction within him, for while he agreed with Tiana, he found it hard to live by that code. He was the product of parents who were of strict Dutch Calvinist stock, and what was inculcated from an early age died hard. Which was probably why when he found and married Maatje he had felt so fulfilled . . . and why her leaving him had hurt so much.

  He had surprised himself last night when he’d turned his back on his inhibitions and enjoyed making love to Tiana; it had been a release, a catharsis after so long.

  “And after the argument?” he asked.

  She gestured with a forlorn hand. “She just . . . went.”

  “And do you know where?”

  She pulled a face. “I thought perhaps Allay.”

  “And what is at Allay?”

  She regarded her small fingers, intertwined on the summit of her knees. “The aliens, the Avoel . . . It is a holy place for them.” She looked up at him. “But I honestly don’t know if she has gone there, or if so why.”

  He thought about it. “Did you live together?”

  She looked surprised. “Why do you ask?”

  “I’d like to examine her belongings. See if there might be some clue as to where she went and why.”

  Tiana shook her head. “She has an apartment in town. I have a pin-key, though.”

  “Perhaps we should take a look.”

  She nodded and was silent for a time. At last she said, “Why are you helping me like this?”

  “When you asked me last night if I looked for missing people . . . Well, I did once. I worked for the European Police Agency in Amsterdam, in the missing persons department.”

  “Do you think we’ll be able to find Lalla?”

  “We’ll do our best, okay?”

  It was a lead, and the best he’d had for months. Was it too much to hope that at last he was on the verge of finding Maatje and his daughter?

  “Matt, you said you’d tell me what you were really doing here.” He reached out and pressed his finger to her lips. “Not now.”

  He lay down beside Tiana, stared up at the ceiling, and tried to sleep.

  When he awoke a little later, Tiana was no longer in bed. She was curled in the window seat, murmuring something into her wrist-com.

  • • •

  Why do I always feel so damned guilty? All my life, every minute of it, I’m hounded by guilt.

  I remember when I was little, my mother had this ability to just look at me and make me feel as if I’d done something wrong. And later, when I was thirteen, me and Lalla . . . The pleasure made the guilt all the more intense. And when my mother found out . . .

  And Lalla makes me feel guilty all the time. I’ve tried to explain that I love her, that she’s the only person I’ll ever truly love. And she says, So why can’t you be faithful, and I say, But I am faithful, in my heart, where it matters. But she doesn’t understand, and I can’t explain.

  And now this.

  Maatje told me he was cruel and vindictive—a bastard, she’d said.

  The thing is, I can’t see that. He’s quiet and kind and thoughtful. A little sad. It’s strange how people’s perceptions of the same person can be so very different.

  I like Matt Hendrick a
lot, which is why what I’ve done makes me feel so guilty.

  • • •

  They walked through the quiet town just after dawn. A tropical rain had rinsed the land and laced the streets with a billion scintillating sequins. The air was warm but fresh, the scent of alien blooms accentuated by the downpour.

  After the overcrowded cities of Europe, Appallassy was like paradise.

  As he walked beside the silent Tiana, Hendrick reflected that one day he would like to make his home on a colony world; somewhere sparsely populated and rural, away from industry and commerce and crowds. He was in his mid-thirties and hankered after a tranquil life.

  Perhaps one day, when he’d found what he was looking for.

  “You live on a beautiful world.”

  “You don’t really see what you see every day, do you?” she said. “I mean, it’s hard to appreciate anything when you have nothing to judge it against.”

  “You’ve never left Avoeli?”

  “No. Isn’t that strange? I work for the Telemass Organisation, and yet I’ve never set foot on another world.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s expensive, for starters, even though as an employee of the organisation I’d get discounted fares.”

  “Would you like to travel?”

  “Of course! I’ve seen holo-docs, read about other worlds in the Expansion.” She glanced at him. “Have you travelled a lot?”

  “In my twenties part of my job was to liaise with police forces around the Expansion. I suppose I’ve visited more than fifty colony worlds.”

  “Fifty!” She laughed. “I can’t imagine . . . That must have been amazing.”

  “I suppose it was, in the early days. It’s surprising what you get used to, though. Towards the end . . . Well, it became just another job.”

  “But you said that you no longer looked for missing people . . . And yet you’re here, looking for someone?”

  “I retired from the force a couple of years ago,” he said, and left it at that.

  They were walking down a quiet residential street lined with timber houses, each one surrounded by tropical trees and shrubs.

  “So,” Tiana said, “what do you do now?”

  He told her the truth. “Very little. I inherited some money when my father died. That’s when I quit the force.”

  “So, you lead a life of leisure?”

  “You could say that.”

  “And you live on Earth?”

  “Near Amsterdam, Europe. But . . . one day I’d like to settle down on a colony world.”

  She laughed. “And I’d like nothing more than to travel to all the big, busy planets of the Expansion.”

  “You’re a medic, no? You could easily travel, find work.”

  “I have a general nursing qualification, so I suppose I could work anywhere.”

  “What’s kept you here, apart from the prohibitive cost of Telemass travel?”

  “What’s kept me here? Lalla, I suppose.” She glanced at him. “Are you married, Matt?”

  He stared ahead. “Was.”

  “It’s amazing what you do for love, isn’t it? Or rather, what you don’t do for love, in my case.”

  “Yes,” he said, “it is.” He looked at her, at her big eyes and flawless skin. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-four,” she replied. “What? You look surprised.”

  “You’re wise beyond your years.” He hoped he didn’t sound patronising.

  Smiling, she stopped in the street and pointed. “Here we are.”

  She led him through the overgrown garden of a single-storey weatherboard house, inserted a pin in the front door and gestured him in before her. The door opened straight into a lounge hung with tapestries and prints showing local jungle scenes. The furnishings were old and battered, and the room had a cosy, bohemian feel.

  He stood in the centre of the room and turned.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “I don’t know, but I will when I find it. When did you last see Lalla?”

  “Four days ago. I stayed here the night. We were due to meet for coffee in town the following day. She never turned up.”

  “And that’s not like her?”

  “She always keeps her appointments. Or if she can’t make it, she contacts me.”

  “And you’ve tried contacting her?”

  She raised her arm, indicating her wrist-com. “All the time, constantly since then.”

  “And nothing?”

  “Only a message saying that a connection was unavailable.”

  “And she’s never gone off like this before. After a row, perhaps?”

  “Never.”

  Pinned to the wall above a desk was a series of pix depicting slim, pale humanoids with big eyes, no visible noses, and wide mouths bearing prominent, shark-like teeth. He moved closer and examined the images. The aliens’ teeth were at odds with the rest of their appearance. He was put in mind of carnivorous lemurs.

  “The Avoel,” she said.

  “Why does Lalla have these?”

  “She’s a biologist. She studies them. She’s fascinated by the creatures.”

  “They look . . . odd.”

  “That’s what everyone says when they see them for the first time. It’s the teeth.”

  He nodded. “What are relations like between the colonists and the Avoel?”

  “There’s very little interaction. The Avoel are jungle dwelling. They’re a peaceful race. There’s no trouble between us.”

  “Last night, when you were drunk . . . you said they were evil. I know, I know . . . You said that that was the drink speaking. But there’s no smoke without fire . . .” He watched her.

  She shrugged, looked away. “Tiana?”

  “Like I said . . .”

  “You resent the Avoel because of the hold they have over Lalla, right?”

  She bit her lip, staring down at the threadbare rug. She said at last, “I don’t like where Lalla’s research was leading her.”

  “Which was where?”

  She hesitated then said, “Follow me.”

  Intrigued, he followed her into an adjacent bedroom. A mattress occupied the floor, piled with a mess of bed sheets. The walls were covered with pix showing crowds of colonists bearing what Hendrick took to be stretchers above their heads.

  He looked around the room. “What did you want to show me?”

  “Have you heard of famadihana?”

  “A sex act that would shock my prudish Terran sensibilities?”

  She laughed. “It’s an old Madagascan tradition. A burial ritual—or, strictly speaking, a re-burial ritual.”

  Ah, the pix on the walls.

  “I once read something about it. Remind me.”

  “My people, centuries ago on Earth, performed what could be translated as ‘turning the bones’. Every seven years they exhumed the remains of ancestors and paraded with them around our villages.” She gestured to the pictures on the walls. “That’s what they are. These images are a couple of centuries old.”

  He could have mistaken them for pictures of contemporary colonists, so little had the colourful clothing changed over the decades.

  Tiana went on. “It was a form of ancestor worship, a way of respecting our dead. The practice died out towards the end of the twenty-first century.”

  “But what has this to do with Lalla’s research?”

  Tiana pursed her lips in contemplation. “A few months ago, she made a discovery—something the Church didn’t like and wanted kept quiet.”

  “Go on.”

  “She was on a field trip in the interior. She’s attached to the university here at Appallassy. What she discovered was that . . .” She fell silent, turned from Hendrick, and stared through the window, out at the dense jungle that began metres from the rickety garden fence.

  “Tiana?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, still with her back to him. “You see, she was threatened that if ever she spoke of what she saw . . . But she to
ld me.”

  She turned to him, her expression on the verge of desperation. “Now do you understand why I’m so frightened, why I fear she might have been . . . ?”

  He reached out and drew her to him, lodged her head against his chest and said, “Tell me.”

  She looked up at him. “When she was in the interior, observing a clan of Avoel, she found that they practised a form of famadihana. She didn’t go into detail but said that there was a marked similarity to the old Madagascan ritual.”

  “But surely a coincidence?”

  “She thought so, yes. But even so, she thought her discovery might lead her to getting a research grant.”

  “And you said someone threatened Lalla to keep quiet about it?”

  “That’s right. A pastor in the Church.”

  “What did he say?”

  Tiana waved her hand. “That if she publicised her findings, he had friends in high places who would ensure she was expelled from the university. And, well, that if she persisted, then she might expect more . . . physical treatment.”

  “Why would the Church want to keep the alien practice quiet?” She stared up at him. “Exactly, Matt. That’s what’s so troubling.”

  He crossed to the window and stared out, then turned to her. “The Church here no longer practises famadihana, does it?”

  She shook her head, her white teeth nipping her bottom lip. “No. Not to my knowledge.”

  “Who issued this threat? The pastor’s name . . . ?”

  She stared at him, her eyes wide. “Father Jacobius.”

  He stared into the jungle, considering what she’d told him. He glanced at his wrist-com. It was not yet ten, and the monotrain to Allay wasn’t due to leave Appallassy until two that afternoon.

  “I’d like to pay this Father Jacobius a visit.”

  Her eyes widened with alarm. “I’m not sure you should.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll make up some story to cover my questions. I just want to find out what’s behind this Church and their threats.”

  “Do you think it might help to find out what happened to Lalla?”

  “Well, that’s what I hope anyway. It can’t do any harm.”