Worlds Away (The Interstellar Age Book 3)

by Daniels, Valmore

  Justine had a choice.

  She could cooperate and avoid torture; but the alien had already told her he would kill her once he was done with her. The Kulsat would then, most likely, plan their invasion of Earth.

  Alternatively, she could defy him. That would mean torture until he decided she was of no use to him. Then he would ‘expire’ her, and still plan the invasion … but her resistance might delay those plans. Space was big; without more information, the Kulsat could conceivably spend years trying to find Sol System.

  If Alex and the others had managed to escape the Kulsat attack, they might be able to return to Earth and warn them about the invasion. Justine had no idea how they would accomplish that, since Alex was not a fully transformed Kinemat; but any chance she could afford them, she would take.

  She got to her feet. Though she was still unsteady from the sonic attack, she stepped closer to the glass wall and put both hands on it.

  “Do your worst,” she said, and braced for another blast.

  The alien twitched, and his entire body rippled. Justine had no basis on which to interpret Kulsat body language, but she thought she’d managed to annoy the creature.

  It typed something on the computer, and the machine voice spoke. “Comprehension difficulty. Risen being is superior to others. You chose discomfort to protect unGifted and Deficients. You are unit-defective in your eyes. Are you unit-defective in comprehension?”

  “I’m not crazy,” Justine said. “I value the lives of all of my kind, even if they aren’t ‘Risen’.”

  The alien typed. “Units not Risen do not contain true value. Demonstration.”

  Turning fluidly, the Kulsat made a rippling gesture with one of his arms. At the other end of the room, another Kulsat, smaller than the first, swam into the area of Justine’s sight. The newcomer, she sensed, was irradiated with Kinemet.

  The scientist made several motions with his arms, and after a few moments, Justine realized he was using a form of sign language to communicate with the other Kulsat. That made sense. If they were physiologically comparable to cephalopods, then they had limited hearing capabilities, and most likely had not developed vocal cords.

  When the leader finished signing, the smaller alien swam over to a table and retrieved a long, thin object. On one end, there was a loop, which the alien wrapped a tentacle around to carry it. The other end of the device came to a point, like a needle.

  The smaller alien gave the tool to the science leader, who typed for quite some time on his computer.

  He waited while the mechanical voice spoke to Justine.

  “This unit was offered the Gift, but failed to become Risen. He is of limited use. This Deficient serves me, but should he expire, there are millions of Deficients to replace him.”

  Then, to Justine’s horror, the science leader plunged the spike directly into the other alien’s head.

  “No!” Justine cried, but it was too late. The smaller Kulsat’s body twitched, his arms flailing about for several seconds. Then he went still, floating away with the spike lodged in his head.

  The science leader made another motion toward the entranceway, and three other small aliens swam in quickly. They grabbed the dead Kulsat and dragged him away.

  “Without the Gift of Light, that unit would be expired soon. Deficients are having little value. There is no loss.”

  Justine couldn’t believe what she was seeing and hearing. The Kulsat had been the favored of the Grace? From what she’d taken from Alex’s story, the Grace was a benevolent race. Either someone had been sorely mistaken about the Kulsat, or the cephalopod race had undergone a radical societal change in the past thousand years.

  Justine knew she couldn’t impose her own system of values on another culture, but she couldn’t condone murder under any circumstance.

  The Kulsat typed. “If you are unit-defective, then you are to be expiring. There are several more of your kind in this system. They are not Risen, but they are possible to be not unit-defective. We will retrieve them now and increase knowledge of your kind.”

  “No,” Justine said.

  She was aware the Kulsat had given her vital information. Alex, Kenny, Michael and Yaxche had not been captured. Some of them, if not all, were still alive.

  She had to give them as much time to escape as she could. If she didn’t cooperate, the Kulsat would simply kill her and go after the others.

  While the Kulsat possessed advanced technology, she suspected that they might not be a superior race. Perhaps she could distract them.

  She said, “I am not unit-defective. I will cooperate. But I need something from you.”

  “What are requirements of cooperation?”

  Justine noted that the linguistic computer had improved its capability for translation. She would have to choose her words carefully in the future.

  “I need time to recover from your sonic attack, and I need to eat.” She took a breath before adding, “I also require more Kinemet—the Gift of Light. With it, I am able to see.”

  “Ability to see is not required for cooperation,” the alien typed back. “You will be allowed sustenance and rest. Cooperation will resume after a delay of time.”

  With that, the alien swam to one wall and tapped a sequence on another control panel.

  Above Justine, near where the oxygen flowed, there was a scraping sound, and when she looked up, she saw a cylindrical container, the size of a kitchen pail, descending from the ceiling on a cord. A few drops of water, smelling like brine, fell from it and splashed on her cheek.

  Once the container reached the floor, the cord separated from it, and retracted into the ceiling again. Justine put her hands on the cylinder. The sides of it felt as if it were made from the shells of clams or mussels. Instead of a solid lid, there was a membranous skin covering the top. When she put her fingers against it and applied pressure, the skin broke away.

  Inside the container, there were two compartments. One half held a clear liquid. When Justine dipped a finger in and brought it to her lips, she was relieved that it was fresh water.

  In the bottom of the other half of the container was some kind of gelatinous substance.

  Justine tentatively stuck her finger in. It was slimy, cold, and thick. When she pulled her finger out, the gelatin stuck to her skin, and she used her thumb to scrape most of it off. Her stomach rolled at the thought of eating whatever it was they’d served her, but she was mindful that the Kulsat was observing her. If she did not eat, as she’d requested, it might arouse suspicion.

  Steeling herself, she lifted her finger to her mouth. Before tasting the food, she sniffed. It smelled fishy, but not overpowering.

  It took every bit of her willpower to stick her tongue out to taste the viscous gelatin on her finger. To her relief, it had a rather bland flavor. The problem was that it had the consistency of nasal mucus.

  Trying not to think about what she was eating, Justine scooped up a small amount with her fingers and stuffed it in her mouth. She gagged, but stopped herself from vomiting it out. With an act of sheer stubbornness, she forced herself to swallow it.

  It felt disgusting going down, and tears sprung to Justine’s eyes. She had a task to undertake, and an act to play out. She lifted the container and angled the water half toward her, careful not to let any of the gelatin pour out on her. Tilting the container to her lips, she drank to wash the gelatin down, and that helped.

  To take her mind off the food, she thought back to what her captor had said when he killed the other alien, that the smaller Kulsat had failed to become Risen, and that there were many others who had undergone the process unsuccessfully.

  On Earth, there had been several volunteers during the early days of the quanta experiments. Even when Klaus had discovered the formula hidden in the Song of the Stars, he still had more failures than successes. The thought that made her blood run cold at that moment was that there might not be a single, guaranteed process. Even if Klaus had gotten every factor right, there was a c
hance that Justine might not have survived the experiment.

  It was an important piece of information, one she needed to bring back with her—if she managed to convince the Kulsat that she was more valuable alive than dead.

  Just as she finished the last of the slop, Justine noticed another small Kulsat enter the room. He approached the leader and signed for more than half a minute. The leader made a few signs in reply, and the smaller one swam away quickly.

  Approaching the control panel, the leader typed. “Time delay is increased. You will rest now. Cooperation will resume after one sleep cycle.”

  He turned around to one of the machines behind him, tapped something on the pad on the front of the machine. Then he swam away toward the exit.

  Justine heard a whirring sound from above her, where the oxygen was pumping into her tank. She smelled something gaseous a moment before she realized she was being tranquilized.

  She reached her hands out to break her fall, but before she hit the floor, she was already deep into a dreamless sleep.

  10

  Sierra de las Minas :

  Guatemala :

  Long Count: 9.19.19.17.9 :

  The opening in the crevice was barely wide enough for me to crawl through, but I was able to pull Ekahua inside after me. As I went deeper, the gap became much wider, and the cave floor was big enough that we could both lie down, if we had to spend the night there.

  There was a small crack in the ceiling that allowed a thin stream of moonlight into the cave. It was barely enough light to let me make out the shape of my own hand when I held it up in front of my face.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked Ekahua. “I could go hunt something for us, though I don’t think we should risk making a fire.”

  Ekahua said, “No, thank you. By the time you returned, I would be gone.”

  I shifted, uncomfortable at how casually he spoke about his own death. It did not seem like a glorious death to me. Fading away in a cave was not how I wanted to die. If I were to meet my end in battle or on a hunt, then my tribe would sing of my heroism.

  “I didn’t see any wounds,” I said to Ekahua. “What is killing you?”

  He seemed to think about how to explain himself to me. “It has been eons since our world, Xtôtix, was destroyed. I, like all of my people, have spent my life among the stars; I am one of the last of my kind.

  “It is because of the Grace—which gives us power to travel the stars—that we cannot survive on a planet. We become like fish on dry land.”

  “Then why did you not stay in the sky?” I asked, trying to understand what he was telling me.

  “I have been visiting your system for quite some time, watching your world from the sky. You have grasped the nature of the universe much quicker in your evolution than other races. It is very interesting to follow your progress.

  “This time, there was a flare in your sun that hit my sky boat. By the time I got control, it was too late.” He made a sound, which I decided was a laugh.

  Not understanding half of what he said, I asked, “You said there are only a few of you left. Did they also come to the world and die?”

  “No.” He closed his eyes. “The Grace—what we call the power of light—that lets us travel the stars also gives us very long lives, Subo Ak. I have lived for thousands and thousands of your years. But everything has a cost. You see, there was an accident on our world. Only a few of us survived, and we were changed. Unfortunately, though we have great power, we are not able to have children. Once, there were many Xtôti; now, there are only a few. It has been a long time since I have seen another of my kind. For all I know, I may even be the last.”

  I felt him reach out to me and rest his trembling hand on mine. It must have been a terrible effort on his part; it was a moment before he spoke again.

  “That is why it was important to destroy my ship, and why none of the other tribes can find me. If they learned how to use the full power, as we did, their people would also begin to die out. We cannot allow that to happen.”

  There was a pleading look in his eyes. “You must promise me that when I die, you will build a fire. Make it as hot as you can, and burn my body so that not even ashes remain. Make sure you get very far away, so that you will not be harmed. Will you do this for me, Subo Ak?”

  I was so stunned by his story and request, I didn’t realize I had been holding my breath. I let it out and said, “You will not have any path to the Underworld. Let me bury you. This cave is a sure way to the spirit world. I will bring you many gifts for your journey.”

  “No,” Ekahua said. “I know it is not your tradition to do as I ask, but you must promise to do so.”

  For a time, I thought about his story. The power he talked about was mighty, and I dreamed about what I could do if I lived for thousands of years. Then I felt a moment of doubt. It would be an offense against the gods if we never had children. The Ch’orti’ were already dying out because of our wars with the northern tribes. We needed to increase our numbers, not lose them.

  I thought I understood what Ekahua was trying to tell me, and I nodded. “Yes, I will do as you ask.”

  “Thank you, Subo Ak.” He closed his eyes. “There are many cultures in your world, but I believe yours is the most promising. Already you look to the stars to guide your lives.” Ekahua smiled.

  “Of course,” I said. “We all await our rebirth among the heavens.”

  “It is for that reason I have left a message for your people, once you begin to explore beyond the shores of your world.”

  “What message?”

  “It is more of a marker to point the way.” He opened his eyes and gave me an odd look. “Though I am not certain I have managed to write it correctly; your symbols and glyphs don’t always bear the same meaning as your spoken words.”

  I waved a hand. “We leave the writing to the priests and elders. I prefer hearing the stories.”

  “And so, now you must listen carefully to my story. I will teach you the Song of the Stars. It is very important to learn it exactly, and pass it along to your children. The knowledge will give your people power in the generations to come.”

  Ekahua sang a song to me in a language that I could not understand. Respectfully, I did not interrupt him, but listened as carefully as I could.

  “I do not know what those words mean,” I said to him when he’d finished.

  “The words are not important.” He turned his head toward me. “The meaning is in the song itself. You must be able to sing the melody as I have. I will sing it again, and then you can try.”

  “What is this song?” I asked. “How will it give my children power?”

  Some time passed before Ekahua said, “It is the song that we hear when we become one with the Grace. One day, that Song will allow your people to travel across the stars.”

  We practiced throughout the evening, until Ekahua finally told me that I had learned the song correctly. When I sang the song, I could feel something powerful in the music. It was as if it were a reminder of an event in my life I had never experienced.

  Ekahua said, “Come closer, Subo Ak, and I will give you a final gift. You have heard the song from me; now you will hear the song from the stars themselves.”

  When I moved over to him, he raised one hand and placed it on my forehead. My first reaction when his body began to glow and light up the cave was to pull away, but though he was weak, his grip was strong, and he held me there.

  It was as if he became light itself. A quick thought came to me that maybe Ekahua was a god, and had only led me to believe otherwise. What person could become light?

  A soft ringing in my ears caught my attention. That sound grew louder in my head until it fully consumed my thoughts. I detected the faint melody of the song, and once I did so, it was all I could hear.

  The Song enveloped me, took me away from my mortal self. It was stronger than any dream I’d ever had, more powerful than any spirit vision I’d ever heard of. Soon, my entire being became
that Song, and there was nothing else in the universe.

  ∞

  When I woke up, it was morning, and faint light streamed through the crevice into the cave.

  I reached out to shake Ekahua, but pulled my hand back when there was no resistance. He made no sound. I held my fingers at his mouth and felt no breath.

  Ekahua was dead. The effort of that last gift to me must have been too much for him.

  Though I had only known him for a short time, I felt a heavy sadness in my heart and a great loss. I wanted nothing more than to hear that Song again and for the rest of my life. Now, I only had the memory.

  Slowly, I made my way out of the cave. Squeezing through the small opening in the cliff face, I blinked at the sudden brightness of the morning sun.

  Ekahua’s last request was for me to make an offering of his body through fire. I thought, perhaps it was so that the smoke would carry his spirit back to the sky to join his people. It was important to honor the dead, and I intended to do as I was asked.

  Before I gathered dried wood to build the fire, though, I went in search of food, taking my atlatl and two darts. I had gone too long without eating, and I needed to keep my strength up if I were to make the long journey home and tell my strange tale to the other villagers.

  I was in luck, and found a bird’s nest with three eggs. My hunger got the better of me, and I quickly cracked the shells open and sucked the eggs down.

  After finishing the third one, I heard a sound from a distance behind me. Dropping down to a knee, I searched through the woods. Soon, I saw the forms of three Q’eqchi’ warriors. They were walking in the direction of the crevice where Ekahua’s body rested.

  I could not let them find him. They would be certain to take his remains back to Quiriguá. I would not be able to honor Ekahua’s final wishes, and would risk angering his dead spirit.

  Desperate to lead them away, I stood and loaded a dart in my atlatl. Immediately, I threw it toward the three warriors. I had no thought to hit any of them. My plan was simply to get their attention. My dart struck home, however, running right through the neck of one of the warriors. He made a gurgling scream as he fell to the ground.