The Crucible

by Mark Whiteway

  Quinn raised his voice. “They have agreed to help and support me.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “We have seen inside your head,” the voice replied. “The creature you call your son is not your son. The Harani female is also a copy. The Nemazi is enslaved to his cultural norms—he would slit your throat without a thought if custom demanded it. The Shanata serves you out of a misplaced sense of honour, and the Agantzane construct is merely following its programming.”

  “And what of Keiza?”

  The voice stayed silent.

  “What of Keiza?” Quinn repeated.

  The sea of light shifted, and they were outside the dome once more.

  ~

  Quinn sat on a glittering silver hillock, chin resting in his hands. Rahada, Vyasa, and Conor watched him with expectant faces. Zothan and the dolin wore their customary implacable expressions. Keiza had vanished soon after they exited the dome, summoned to some unknown meeting. The Qan-ho-nah’s final silence still hung in his ears.

  Vyasa ruffled her wings, sat in front of him, and tucked her legs beneath herself.

  Rahada moved in behind her. “The Qan-ho-nah asked you to show them something, and then we were outside the dome.”

  Quinn stared straight ahead. “They dropped me into another of their little Elinare scenarios.”

  “What happened?” Vyasa asked.

  “I’m not sure. But I don’t think it went well.”

  “Maybe we should go back to the ship,” Vyasa suggested.

  Rahada looked at her sharply. “We cannot return until we have the Elinare’s agreement to help us.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting we leave orbit. But it might be safer up there.”

  “And if they seal the barrier surrounding this world, what then?”

  “Rahada’s right,” Quinn said. “We have to stay and see this thing through.”

  “What did they say?” Zothan asked.

  Quinn sighed. “They asked about Aurek, mainly. I don’t think they understood why he gave his life. They told me no Elinare has perished since they came here. Aurek featured in their scenario. I tried to demonstrate that I would have prevented his death if I could. I’m not sure I got through to them, though.” He left out the Qan-ho-nah’s stinging criticisms. Little point in souring relations further.

  The dolin gazed down, the orange beam from its eye sweeping the hillock. “What of their directive?”

  Quinn raised his head. “Directive?”

  “All things have a directive. Like all of my kind, I was designated as a weapon. Then a new master directed me to preserve you and Conor. You taught me that when that directive is fulfilled, I will need to seek my own, though I am not sure what that may be. The Elinare, too, have a directive. If we help them fulfil theirs, we may gain their favour.”

  “The construct has a good point,” Rahada said. “Didn’t Keiza tell you that the Elinare could not devote endless time to shoring up their defences? They need our protection to continue their work of saving both universes. If they allow the Damise to overrun us, they’ll be cutting their own throats.”

  Quinn realised he should have made that argument out of the gate, but he’d assumed that because Keiza had voiced it, all Elinare must be of the same opinion. He was starting to think that, like the Agantzane, the Elinare might have different factions holding to different schools of thought.

  He heard a far-off rumble and glanced skyward. The bright golden dome was seamless from horizon to horizon, with nothing resembling a thundercloud. Even desert worlds such as Nemazi needed rain to sustain life, but life here was noncorporeal so presumably didn’t require water. So far, he’d observed nothing resembling a lake or a river.

  A section of sky darkened before brightening again, then another. Distant thunder rolled from the heavens.

  “What’s going on?” he asked no one in particular.

  Keiza materialised at the foot of the knoll and hurried towards the group. The dark patches expanded like evil flowers, and the thunder echoed like a roomful of timpanis. She joined them, and together they gazed at the display.

  “The Haven is under attack,” she announced.

  ~

  Darkness bloomed against the sky, pushing back the light. For the first time ever, Quinn saw fear cross Keiza’s features.

  “The Damise have found us,” she said.

  “How is that possible?” Rahada demanded. “They couldn’t navigate this space, let alone find your Haven. They don’t have the theoretical know-how.”

  “The Qan-ho-nah are saying you guided them here.”

  “That’s a lie!”

  “Their evidence is circumstantial, but it is compelling. The bombardment began only a short time after your arrival. And Vyasa is a Damise-engineered copy.”

  “Keiza,” Quinn said, “do you believe we brought the Damise down on you?”

  She hesitated. “Not deliberately, no. But it is possible they could have tracked Vyasa.”

  “All right, let’s table that for now. What do the Qan-ho-nah intend to do?”

  “That’s not been decided. The Damise fleet has opened a continuous barrage, but the planetary barrier is holding. At the moment, it’s a standoff. Of course, that could change with time.”

  “What do the Qan-ho-nah intend to do with us?”

  “That, too, has not been decided, although if the Damise did follow us, then I am as culpable as anyone. I brought you here, knowing the risks.”

  “What about the Shanata vessel in orbit?” Vyasa asked.

  “If its crew detected the fleet’s approach, they may have had time to escape,” Keiza replied. “Either way, it’s impossible to get a signal through the barrier, so there’s no way to know for sure.”

  The darkening sky was already casting an unaccustomed gloom over the surface of the Haven. Everywhere he looked, the Elinare had ceased their antics and gazed upwards like lost children.

  “What are we going to do, Dad?” Conor asked.

  “Keiza, please tell the Qan-ho-nah we’ll cooperate in every way possible.”

  “And then what?” Rahada prompted.

  “We wait and see who prevails,” Quinn said.

  ~

  Quinn soon learned that biding her time was not one of Rahada’s strengths. Shortly after Keiza vanished on another unnamed errand, Rahada began pacing incessantly, muttering to herself as though working on an insoluble problem. Quinn couldn’t decide whether she was engaged in some Shanata ritual or just being irritating, but he was at the point of yelling at her to knock it off when Keiza reappeared.

  Though the glowering sky cast shadows across her features, her tone betrayed no hint of anything amiss. “The Qan-ho-nah has arranged accommodations for you. Come.”

  They trailed Keiza through another geometric jumble of edifices past Elinare who sat, wandered aimlessly, or stared at the darkening sky with soulless eyes.

  Keiza halted in front of a white box shape with no windows, whose walls were as smooth as marble yet warm to the touch. A wave of her hand revealed an entranceway half as high again as Quinn but far too small for the dolin.

  It stared down in flat-faced defeat. “I will remain here and protect you from harm.”

  Quinn recalled Tzurel’s fate. “All right. Just don’t stomp on anyone.”

  The dolin angled its great head towards him.

  “I mean it.”

  It turned and faced outwards, unmoving as a sphinx.

  Resigned, Quinn followed Keiza into the cool interior.

  White walls, split levels, and curved archways reminded him of what he had read and heard of the layout of Spanish haciendas, but the interior of this structure displayed none of the long-stemmed potted plants and bold, colourful murals that sang of Latin warmth and flair. The place was clinical, as though it belonged to a doctor with no sense of humour.

  A wide table supported rows of neatly arranged cups and bowls and, at the centre, a large
pitcher of what looked like water.

  He licked his parched lips. He had seen no rivers, lakes, or other sources of water on this artificial world, so how the Elinare had obtained water was yet another mystery to add to his growing stack. He crossed to the table, selected a plain white cup with no handle, and raised the pitcher.

  “Careful!” Rahada’s warning was like a tug on his sleeve.

  Quinn glanced at Keiza. She gazed back with wide-eyed innocence. If her people wanted him dead, they could simply have waited for him to die of thirst. He downed half a cupful. The liquid cooled his tongue and soothed his throat. He poured another cup and handed it to Conor, who grasped it in both hands and quaffed the contents. Next in line were Rahada, Vyasa, and finally Zothan, who sipped once and handed his cup back to Quinn with a slight bow. Magatha rashan—water brother—the bond they had formed on Zothan’s arid home world was steeped in symbolism and tradition that Quinn barely understood, but he accepted the cup with a nod and drank.

  Keiza pointed at a bowl filled with what looked like red candies. “These will provide you with sustenance during your stay. I must leave you now. The Qan-ho-nah require my presence.”

  “How are your people holding up?” Quinn asked.

  “The barrier will last for ten thousand of your years.”

  That wasn’t exactly what he had meant, but he let it pass.

  “Sleeping quarters have been prepared for when you desire rest.” Keiza turned and vanished into thin air.

  Conor’s brow furrowed. The boy stood as tall as his father. “Are we going to be stuck here for ten thousand years?”

  Quinn managed a half smile. “I’m sure it won’t come to that.”

  He reached for the bowl, but Rahada got ahead of him. She bit the end off a “candy,” chewed, then nodded for him to partake.

  I don’t need a wet nurse. He fought back his irritation. “We don’t know what the next few hours have in store. Let’s all try to get some rest.”

  Their sleeping quarters turned out to be five four-metre-square alcoves built into two walls. Quinn selected one at random. As soon as he entered, the open side turned opaque, like a wall of fog frozen in time. The only thing resembling furniture within the alcove was a plain white slab. He lay down, and it moulded to his shape, adjusting as he moved. He had encountered similar marvels several times during his wanderings across Consensus worlds. A short time ago, they would have filled him with awe, but he was coming to regard them as commonplace.

  He closed his eyes. Far above his head raged a battle that would decide their fate as well as the fate of the Elinare and possibly two universes, and he could do nothing to affect the outcome. It felt like the night after college finals except he’d had three classmates then and a couple of bottles of Irish whiskey to wash him into a sea of unconsciousness.

  A gentle chime caused his brow to furrow.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked without opening his eyes.

  “Quinn, may I enter?” The voice was Vyasa’s.

  He stretched and sat up. “Sure, come on in.”

  She stepped out of the fog. Her long white hair hung forwards like a curtain, her large, round eyes unfocused. She eased herself to the floor and drew her slender legs beneath herself.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked.

  She raised her head as if noticing him for the first time. “I hear… voices.”

  Hairs rose on the back of his neck. “What voices?”

  She turned away. “Them.”

  “You mean the Damise?”

  She nodded like a child with a guilty secret.

  Keiza had claimed no signal could breach the barrier, but he could not be certain of that. Reanimates routinely had a tracking-and-control device placed within their brains. If she were under Damise influence, she was a threat to everyone. He might be left with very few options.

  “What do they say?” he asked.

  “I-I don’t know. Fragments… pieces. ‘The Elinare… the ancient enemy… at last, our chance has come to destroy them utterly.’”

  As she spoke the word our, his hand went to his pouch containing the crescent-shaped blade he had acquired on Pann’s ground level.

  “‘The despised creature.’” Her voice grew ever more shrill. “‘He has brought us to the brink of victory. Our ships… our ships can no longer be destroyed!’”

  Her eyes were wild. He glanced past her, plotting the fastest escape route.

  She grasped him by the arms. “You must listen! You and your people are in great danger!”

  Her clawlike fingers dug into his biceps. Is she testing my reactions? Are the Damise watching me through her eyes, seeing whether I’ll crack? I can’t let them know I’m on to them. He pushed against her forearms until she released him and then rose from the slab. “Do your people have nightmares?”

  “Nightmares?”

  “Frightening dreams. You do dream?”

  She nodded. “I have ‘wandered the halls of terror,’ as the Harani call it. But it is a condition experienced only by our very young.”

  “Maybe this is something similar.”

  “No, Quinn. Harani do not dream while they are awake.”

  “Then perhaps you are experiencing a shadow, a memory of their influence over you.”

  She angled her head. “If the voices are memories, then why do they speak of the siege of this world?”

  He kept his tone conversational. “It could be that current events are overlaying your memories. You did say the voices were confused. I agree they don’t seem to be making much sense. You spoke of ‘the despised one’? Why would someone the Damise despise help them? You also said their ships were invincible, but we know that’s not true. We both witnessed the destruction of one of their vessels at the hands of the Shanata.”

  She nodded. “So… you don’t think it’s really them?”

  “I think you’ve been through a lot. The mind is complex. It can play some pretty funny tricks. Try to sleep. If the voices are still bothering you, we can mention it to Keiza. Her people are pretty advanced. Maybe they can suggest something that will help.”

  She stretched her wings then folded them. “Thank you. It’s just that…”

  “What?”

  She gazed up at him. “I would sooner kill myself than betray you.”

  She dripped sincerity, but was that just another manipulation?

  He forced a smile. “Get some rest. We’ll talk later.”

  She turned and disappeared through the fog.

  He lay down once more. The slab gently massaged his back, but speculations flocked in his head, chasing sleep away. Was she a helpless victim in need of support or a pawn crafted to serve the Damise and advance their cause? His mind swung like a pendulum between the two, troubled by the notion that she might be both.

  The chime sounded lightly again, like a musical apology.

  “Yes, what is it?” Quinn called.

  Zothan’s slender frame emerged from the fog. His eyes were like shining amber dropped into molten pitch, his movements as graceful as a gymnast’s. “Kokketsu dahan. I beg forgiveness for disturbing you, Quinn, but I would speak with you alone.”

  Quinn rose to a sitting position. “It’s all right, my friend. What’s on your mind?”

  “I fear I must break our oath.”

  Zothan’s people lived on a desert world where life was balanced on a knifepoint. Every action was steeped in ritual, and loyalty to one’s tribal grouping or omesku was paramount. In human terms, his statement was tantamount to announcing he was about to commit murder.

  The human reaction might be to make light of it or even invoke humour, but from their blending in the time fragment on Nemazi, Quinn knew that either would be the wrong approach. He straightened his back. “Explain.”

  “We are trapped on this world. It may be that we shall never leave. Then my words will be water poured out on sand. But if we do escape, then I must depart our omesku and return to my own world of Nemazi. If you w
ish, you may declare me hokkah, outcast. You would even be well within your rights to demand that I end my life by galatha-tamah. But I will not relent.”

  Quinn steepled his fingers and weighed his response. “Nemazi tradition does not permit me to enquire, but I am a human with human frailties. I have one question. Why?”

  “For thousands of years, Nemazi wandered the surface of my world as omesku. They drank, built, uprooted, and moved together as the sarakoth, the time fronts, dictated and fought among themselves for water, food, and technology. Then the Shanata surrounded us. We were scattered with no way to oppose them. We had all but forgotten our shared identity as Farzah Volothi, the Wanderers of the Desert.

  “When you shattered the blockade, you reminded us that strength lies in unity. The omesku banded together to resist the gormgast that the Shanata had unleashed on our world.”

  “Your people showed wisdom and foresight,” Quinn said. “They put aside their differences and moved forwards as one. You should be proud.”

  “They have moved forwards, but I have not.” Zothan’s wedge-shaped head moved from side to side as if a battle raged within him. “Even now, my people fight side by side in defence of our world, while I hide far away in another universe, shackled to my oath.”

  “Then I free you from it.”

  “You cannot do that, Quinn.”

  “I beg to differ. You said it yourself: your people’s highest obligation is to the preservation of their way of life as Farzah Volothi. I have shamed you by keeping you from that. You are free, with my deepest apologies.”

  Zothan bowed low. “En-sakhar.”

  “With honour,” Quinn translated.

  Zothan slipped through the wall of fog and was gone.

  Quinn stared after him. I will miss you, my friend.

  ~

  As Quinn drifted across the no-man’s-land between wakefulness and sleep, a third voice dragged him back to consciousness.

  “Quinn.”

  His eyelids were glued shut. “Who is it? What do you want?”

  “Get up quickly! We have very little time.”

  The thin, half-strangled voice was vaguely familiar. His eyes snapped open, and he sprang upright. A silver ball bobbed in the air. Beneath it, seated on the edge of the slab, was a wizened, one-metre-high creature with pointed ears and a long proboscis.