Again, she felt her heart rate increase. It wasn’t the thought of torture that frightened her; it was the thought that she wouldn’t be able to withstand their interrogation techniques. If they broke her, she would essentially be giving up her entire world to the enemy. She didn’t know if she could live with that … if she survived.
She couldn’t let her imagination get the better of her. Her isolation and the fear of the future were playing with her emotions. Willing herself to be calm, she took a deep breath, and then another. With her back against one of the walls, she sat down and waited.
Although she’d been conscious for only a few minutes, she had no idea how long it had been since she’d been abducted from the Ultio. Hours? Days? For all she knew, they could have kept her in the quantized state for years, and there would be no physical evidence to prove otherwise.
She also did not know how long they planned to keep her in the cell. Certainly, it was not set up for long-term confinement. Though she was not looking forward to it, she knew whatever the Kulsat planned to do her, she had to keep all the information stored in her mind from them.
∞
She didn’t have to wait very long.
Twelve minutes after she’d regained consciousness, she became aware of another Kinemetic presence nearby.
With her sight, she realized that the damping field was not around her cell, which was in a very large room. There was a barrier dividing the room itself from the rest of the ship.
Alex? was her first thought. Had they captured him as well? He was the only other human who had been through the Kinemetic process—though his transformation had not been complete.
When she’d been on Lucis Observatory, she’d been able to recharge herself just by being close to dormant Kinemet. The new presence gave off enough radiation that some of it leaked into her. It wasn’t enough for her to quantize herself, but she regained some of her ability to see, though in a severely diminished capacity.
It was as if someone had turned on a very dim spotlight. Outside the confines of her cell, at least twenty feet away, a form took shape in her mind’s eye.
Just as her hopes started to rise, they plummeted as the presence came closer.
What she saw made her stomach clench.
It was not human.
The creature had a large, bulbous head that bore the rough shape of a spade. Two protuberances on either side of its head held large eyes. Instead of a torso, eight long tentacle-like arms, connected at their base by a membranous web, extended out. The alien resembled a cephalopod.
From the top of its head to the end of its arms, it was less than half the height of an average human. She had no way of figuring out what gender the Kulsat was, or even if it had a gender, but in her mind, she thought of it as male.
So this is a Kulsat…
At first, she thought the creature was hovering, or floating somehow. Then his arms expanded and contracted, propelling the alien closer to her prison cell, and she realized he was swimming.
The Kulsat must have a water-based physiology. Was the inside of the alien ship completely filled with water?
That meant that if she were to break the glass of her terrarium, water would pour in and drown her.
In her mind, she’d been preparing for a bipedal alien species, but the realization of how different the Kulsat were from humans came as a shock.
The alien swam closer to Justine’s tank, and as he did so, her sight grew marginally stronger. While her prison was a perfect cube, the room in which it was situated was far more complicated.
It looked like a complex laboratory, with dozens of open-faced cupboards on the walls. She couldn’t identify several large constructs. Tubes extended from them into the ceiling.
There were three long tables. Various objects that could have been tools, containers, or other scientific apparatuses were strewn over their surfaces. Short vertical walls lined the edges, and Justine realized that they were there to prevent anything on the table from falling off—when the alien moved past, his motion created a wake in the water. A number of items shifted position.
When the alien reached Justine’s prison, he extended one tentacle to what looked like a control panel attached to the outside wall of the cell.
Though Justine had not absorbed enough Kinemetic radiation to quantize herself, or manipulate any electric current in the area, her sight was enough for her to start making out details, rather than seeing rough shapes.
At the end of the Kulsat’s tentacle were several wormlike fingers. With these, he touched the control panel in a pattern.
A moment later, a mechanical voice spoke, the sound coming through the glass muted and partially distorted.
“Hello.”
Justine flinched, then got hold of herself. She looked at the Kulsat.
“What do you mean, ‘hello’?” She slapped her hand against the glass wall, all the anger and fear she’d been suppressing coming out. “Who the hell are you? Why did you kidnap me? What have you done with my friends?” When the alien did not respond, she asked, “What are you going to do to me?”
The alien extended his arm to the control panel again, as if typing.
“What do you mean hello who the hell are you why did you kidnap me what have you done with my friends what are you going to do to me.”
Justine took a step back. The alien had mimicked her words.
She asked, “How do you know my language?”
The alien typed. “My do not have language. My have to do language.”
He motioned to a spot between his eye and one of his arms, and Justine put her hand on her neck near the corresponding area. Her fingers felt a small rectangular piece of metal attached to her collar. A transmitter? The control panel attached to her tank must be a linguistic computer. Everything she’d said must have gone into it and been analyzed. The computer had already interpreted basic grammatical structure based on the few sentences she’d spoken.
While Justine did not want to give the Kulsat any information, she understood the need for communication. Perhaps she would be able to negotiate a treaty between the Kulsat and Earth. Then there would be no need for an invasion.
She started small. With her enhanced memory, she could recall the very first books she’d read as a child. Even without corresponding images to associate with the words or phrases, the alien’s computer should be able to build a rudimentary language database.
Taking a deep breath to focus, Justine spoke, beginning with a number of the simpler titles, and moving up to some of her favorite children’s books, including Peter Pan. By the time was she was on the fifth chapter of that classic, the alien interrupted her.
“You are able.”
“Able?” Justine asked. “To do what?”
The Kulsat typed on his console. “You are able to be well.”
“Am I hurt?” Justine asked. “No. I am not hurt.”
“You are to be not expired? To be continuous?”
Justine struggled to understand the alien’s meaning. “Yes, I’ll live.” She took a breath to illustrate. “Who are you? What is your name?”
“I am being the science leader.”
Justine asked, “What do you want from me? What are you going to do to me?”
The alien did not type a reply immediately. It seemed to consider her question. Finally, it reached out to the computer again.
“You are to be cooperating. You are to be giving your knowledge to us. Then you are to be expiring.”
5
Sierra de las Minas :
Guatemala :
Long Count: 9.19.19.17.9 :
With thoughts of glory, both for myself and for my people, I watched as the god completed his journey across the sky and toward the mountains. I fixed the spot where he landed in my mind, and then gathered my packs and my weapons and broke into a slow jog.
I was aware that I was going further into enemy territory the nearer I got to the mountains. To the north, on the other side of the moun
tains, was Lake Izabal, where many Q’eqchi’ villages made their homes. Copán was two days’ south through the highlands. If I got into trouble, there would be no help for me.
It would take me the better part of the day to get to the area where the god had come down. I knew, once I had left the relative safety of the forested areas south of Quiriguá, any patrol could spot me easily as I traveled across the river valley toward the mountains.
If anyone else had seen the god, then they might come to investigate. However, they would have to discuss the venture with their leaders before they could organize. For the time being, I had an advantage, if I could get there first.
Halfway there, I stopped beside a stream to drink and to eat the last of my rations, then continued across the valley.
I reached the base of the mountains just as the sun started to dip below the horizon.
I knew I was close. The god had landed about a quarter of the way up from the base of the mountain. It was slower going, picking my way up the face. A few times I stopped to catch my breath and see if any of the Q’eqchi’ were following. From where I was, I could see the entire plain to the east. If I strained, I imagined I could see clear to the great ocean.
Night was falling, and if I didn’t hurry, I might lose my sense of direction in the dark. Pushing myself, I climbed the rest of the way.
I expected something grand when I arrived. In my imagination, I pictured a tall and imposing god sitting on a glowing throne of jade, wearing a feathered headdress that would put anything I had ever seen to shame. Jaguars would lie at his feet, and a great eagle would perch on one shoulder—or perhaps it would be a firebird, flexing its blazing wings.
Instead, what I saw confused me.
There was no throne, no jaguars, no eagles, and no firebirds.
There was a short boat before me, and it was tilted on its side. A canopy covered the top of it, and it was open. The vessel was made from a material unlike anything I had ever seen. The shell seemed to be in motion, like the running water of a stream. Across the surface, it was as if an artist had created a living painting of bright and glowing colors. I found myself captivated by it.
I heard a faint sound and stepped around the mysterious boat.
A god did not wait there for me. Instead, I saw what looked like a plump young boy. He lay on his side, curled up, arms wrapped around him, with his back to a tree.
Once I got close enough to him, I froze.
His body had no hair, and his pale white skin was leathery, and mottled with blue patches.
His face was unlike any I had ever seen before. The top of his head was shorter than normal, and he had a thick, bony ridge starting where his eyebrows should have been, and wrapped around the sides of his bald head and to the back of his neck. I couldn’t see any earlobes, but there was a small bump where his ears should have been. His eyes were large and spaced wide apart over high cheekbones. Although his nose was extremely small, his mouth and jaw were long and beaklike. Overall, he bore a slight resemblance to a turtle without a shell.
“You must help me,” the creature said, and he spoke as if he were native to my village.
Overcoming my shock at his strange appearance, I rushed forward to see what was wrong.
He opened his slatted eyes and looked at me. “How are you called?” From this distance, I noticed that the words he mouthed did not match the sounds that came out.
“I am Subo Ak of the Ch’orti’,” I said. “Who are you? What are you?”
“You may call me Ekahua. The people of the sky call us the Grace, though my people call ourselves Xtôti.”
“Are you a god?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I am not. My people once came from a world much like this one.”
I saw that he was having trouble breathing, and asked, “Are you injured?”
“I am dying,” Ekahua said. “I will not live long on the surface of your planet; it is destroying me. My ship is too damaged to take me back to the sky.”
“Will anyone from your tribe come to help you?”
He said, “There are only a few of my people left, and they are very far away. There will be no help from them. No one knows I am here.
“But there are other star tribes who might come. They cannot be allowed to find my sky boat or me. It is too dangerous for them. You must help me.”
I glanced at his ship. “How?”
“Inside my boat there is a—” He said something then that sounded like stones grinding together. “It is a box with many square shapes, with many drawings on them.”
Leaving Ekahua where he was, I strode back to the vessel. I felt the hairs of my arms stand up when I leaned close to look inside. I didn’t want to touch the surface. I feared it would burn me, or that it would suck me into its swirling current.
There was a long, curved seat built into the ship. In front of the seat was a flat box with many smaller boxes outlined within, some larger than others. In the center of the box was a square that contained glowing, moving shapes.
“Touch the shape that has a picture of a circle with a line through the bottom edge.”
I looked over the boxes until I saw one that fit the description. Once again, I hesitated. This could be a test or a trap. I didn’t know what would happen if I did as Ekahua instructed. He said he was not a god; therefore, I could disobey him without risking any divine wrath. However, he was obviously very powerful; he could sail through the sky in this flying boat.
I remembered my people and how we were being slowly overrun by the Q’eqchi’.
“If I help you, will you help me? Will you help us defeat our enemies, who kill our men and steal our women? My village is near Copán. It was once a great and beautiful city, but our numbers grow smaller every season. We need help, as you do.”
He said, “My very presence here is a danger to the future of this world, much greater than the conflict with your neighboring tribes. Having knowledge of me, your entire world is at risk.”
I didn’t understand what he was talking about, and it seemed he grew sadder.
“I have no weapons to give you,” he said. “But I can give you a gift, Subo Ak.”
“What gift?”
“I will teach you the Song of the Stars. Perhaps you will pass it on to your children and grandchildren.”
“A song?” I asked.
“There is great power to be had in the song.”
I was doubtful, but at the very least, I would have something to bring back to my village. A new song would not bring me as much honor as the skin of a Q’eqchi’ warrior, but perhaps the song would gain me a level of respect with the elders. It was always good to be in their graces.
I nodded. “I will accept that bargain.”
“Press the shape marked with the circle and line,” Ekahua said.
I did so, and jumped back when a plate on the back of the boat opened. I stepped over to the opening and looked in. The inside of the boat resembled a mass of roots wrapped around a solid block of dark polished stone.
“There are a twelve cords on the top of the—” He said another word I did not understand. I pointed to the top of the block, and when Ekahua nodded, I touched one of the root-like cords.
“It will be difficult, but you must pull them all out, and then put them back in different spots. You will need to work quickly. The ship will—” When I glanced at him, he said, “The ship will become like fire and burn. Within moments, it will turn to light and disappear.”
Shocked, I pulled my fingers away from the cords. Suddenly, I became uncertain. The task sounded dangerous, and I did not want to be hurt or killed for a song.
“No harm will come to you, Subo Ak, if you are fast, and so long as the canopy keeps the cords shadowed from the sun. Once you have finished, return to me here where you will be safe.”
I considered the device once more. There must be great power inside those roots if they could destroy such a wondrous boat so quickly.
Taking a deep breath, I p
lucked the first root out of the block. I felt an odd sensation in my hand, as if a small insect were crawling across my palm. A quick look showed me that my hand was empty. I peered into the hole left by the root and saw a small glowing object, no bigger than a grain of sand, resting in the gap.
Mindful that I had to work quickly, I yanked the remainder of the roots out.
“Hurry,” Ekahua said, and feeling the urgency in his words, I replaced the roots into the openings in a random order.
“Good, now run back here.”
Just as I started to turn, I noticed that one of the glowing grains of sand was resting in a nook partway down the polished block of stone. It must have fallen out when I pulled the roots.
I snatched the pebble up between my finger and thumb, and raced back to Ekahua as quickly as I could.
He was watching the boat, not me, and did not see when I slid the grain of sand inside one of the loose beads on my belt.
I turned to see what was becoming of the boat. At first, there was no change in the vessel.
A high-pitched sound came from it, soft at first, then louder. The swirls on the surface of the boat became frantic, and the vessel began to vibrate. The canopy snapped closed with a loud bark, and the plate on the back dropped back into place.
The ship began to shine bright like the sun.
“Shield your eyes,” Ekahua said, and I put my hand over my face, looking at the vessel between the cracks of my fingers.
The sound became louder, and just when I thought I couldn’t handle it any longer, the boat burst into thousands of flecks of light. Each of those flecks burnt out within moments.
When I took my hand away from my face, I saw that the boat had completely disappeared. I cautiously approached the spot where it had rested, and could not see any sign that it had ever existed.
“Thank you, Subo Ak,” Ekahua said.
I felt a raindrop fall on my cheek and looked up into the evening sky. Clouds had gathered, and we would soon be caught in a downpour.
“We need to find shelter,” I said.
“I do not have the strength to rise; you must carry me.”
I picked Ekahua up, and he was far lighter than I had expected.
Worlds Away (The Interstellar Age Book 3) Page 3
