The Tau Ceti Diversion

by Chris McMahon

  Only the Awakener and his entourage, a group of about thirty Imbirri, stood their ground. They turned as one to face the new threat. The laser bursts were coming quickly now — a trail of fire sweeping in an arc toward them.

  Andrai and Ibri advanced quickly, taking advantage of the confusion, then paused on the edge of the village. They were not coming to the pit. Instead they seemed to be waiting for something.

  “Andrai! What the hell is going on!” yelled Karic, but Andrai was too far away to hear.

  Janzen took the lander down, turning his weapon. Even from this distance Karic could see what he was doing. He was targeting the big laser on the Awakener — and the energy weapon. “He’s trying to take out the leaders and the scepter in one go.”

  It was bloodthirsty overkill, but he had to give Janzen credit. It was a solid plan. If he succeeded, no one on Cru would challenge them in firepower. Yet … if he had not been so hell-bent on destruction in the first place, they would all be safely back at the base camp. Even now, there would have been ample time for Andrai and Ibri to remove the pit-cover and free himself and Mara. Instead, Janzen had them doing something else.

  The Awakener drew himself up. He shook his scepter at the lander, screaming in outrage. His eyes glowed with hot light as he turned to Andrai and Ibri, waiting nearby on the grassed hill.

  “Hurry, Janzen,” said Karic.

  The lander was hovering barely three meters off the ground. Janzen adjusted its position, taking his time to target the Awakener.

  Karic’s eyes were drawn to Utar. The Deepwatch was taking in the scene calmly. Against the outrage of the Awakener, and the panic of the other Imbirri, his calmness was eerie. Karic let his mind drift into the fugue state. He could sense Utar’s consciousness. It was buoyant — floating on a soundless sea.

  Then Utar stepped in front of the Awakener — a split second before Janzen fired the lander’s pulse laser.

  The beam effortlessly punched a hole through Utar’s heart, searing the grass behind him. Thick yellow gore pumped from the ragged hole, splattering across the burnt skin of his torso. He sank to his knees, his eyes growing a startling silver color as he turned one last time toward the Awakener.

  For a time, all stood frozen. The Awakener met the gaze of Utar and each knew the heart of the other before the vital energies of the being called Utar finally fled. The Deepwatch’s eyes faded to black, and he fell heavily to the ground: dead.

  “No!” screamed Karic. His heart went cold. With Utar dead, they no longer had a friend in the Imbirri. Their last chance of freedom now depended on Janzen’s success.

  The Awakener screamed in rage. His huge frame swelled with power. Long before Janzen could even sight his laser a second time, the enormous energies of the scepter were lancing across the field in an arc of blue-white fire. Karic had never seen this much energy flow through the device.

  The wave struck the lander. The laser turret melted in moments, then a jagged line of red-hot metal began to snake across the surface of the craft. The thrusters began to destabilize. The lander shook, slamming into the ground before rising once more.

  Karic took a sharp breath. “Get out of there, Janzen!”

  The discharge of the energy weapon ceased and the spluttering flow of fuel to the thrusters was restored with a sudden roar of flame. The lander flew straight up, then shot toward the horizon. It was soon out of sight.

  The discordant moans of wounded Imbirri filled the air.

  The Awakener turned on Andrai and Ibri. A front of white-hot energy swept Andrai and Ibri before it like a storm-front. Each of the humans was lifted by the force of the corona and their screams were terrible as the electrical energy surged to earth through their bodies. Each fell unconsciousness to the ground, their clothes sputtering with flame.

  “Damn you, Janzen!” said Karic. “All you had to do was walk in and lift off this damn cage.”

  Mara was stunned to silence.

  There was no way Janzen would come back for them now. He would stay inside the magnetically confined plasma of the lander’s defensive shield and enter stasis, leaving them to die.

  And Utar — the Imbirri who had promised them freedom — was dead.

  Catching sight of Karic and Mara as they peered over the rim of the cage, the Awakener swept an arc of energy across the pit. The humans fell back into the hole and pressed themselves flat against the earthen wall of the rough enclosure to escape the power of the weapon.

  Silence.

  Then the cage door opened above them. The two prisoners looked up expecting only death, yet instead, Utar’s followers stood above them, bearing the bodies of Andrai and Ibri. They dumped the limp forms into the cage and closed the lid.

  Feverishly, Karic and Mara checked Andrai and Ibri for some sign of life. Neither had a pulse, and they tried to revive them. As the minutes crawled by, they were losing hope, then at last Andrai’s heart — stopped like Mara’s by the discharge — began to beat once more. He was soon conscious.

  Ibri’s heart remained still. Judging by the savage burns to his torso, he had been saved a painful death. Had they managed to revive him, he would have been in agony until shock, infection, and pain killed him hours, or perhaps days later. Unlike Andrai, the fires started by the weapon had continued to burn into Ibri’s frame as he lay unconscious, fed by the enriched oxygen in the ambient air.

  Andrai had been lucky, escaping with only a few minor burns.

  The three prisoners laid Ibri at rest along one wall of the pit and covered his face with a charred square of cloth. For a long time, they sat in silence, too exhausted to speak.

  Karic looked around the primitive cage, listening to the soft Imbirri melodies that had started outside their prison. In the face of death, the alien music made his hands tighten in rage.

  How on Earth did they end up like this? Imprisoned. Abandoned on an alien world. This should have been the time of their greatest triumph. Instead, they waited for execution. They were at the mercy of the Imbirri and — thanks to the insane actions of Janzen — the aliens had every reason to want them dead.

  Yet Karic did not give up hope. Remarkable things had happened. Unexpected things.

  The trauma, the pain. The loss. The accelerating power of his mind, culminating during the descent in the pod to the surface of the planet. All had given him something he had never, ever thought to gain: control over the fugue.

  It had turned from a curse into a remarkable and unexpected gift. A way of connecting with the world around him and the sentient minds of others that he would never have believed possible. Thought, like light, was now within his spectrum. He could see it, the tangled mass of it as it sped around the consciousness of others.

  He remembered the eyes of the Deepwatch, and the promise offered there. Utar had turned, at the last moment, from their enemy to their only ally on Cru. His death should have crippled his hope, but it did not.

  Why?

  Then he remembered the terrible resignation he felt within Utar, the thoughts that were locked away from him, and the pieces fit into place. Utar knew he himself would die.

  Just as he knew they would escape.

  CHAPTER 12

  The Awakener stood vigil over the body of Utar.

  He had drawn his mind above the swiftly moving streams of the moment to a stiller place, and the clouds and misting rains seemed to come and go across the grassy sward like silent, flickering light-shows.

  Yet even in this state, his grief remained.

  There was so much to grieve for — and so little left of the life that had once seemed so endless. Once they had thought to live forever. The end of that hope, of that arrogance, was bitter.

  Around the Awakener lay an assembled host. Nearest to him were the First, and behind these the Imbirri who had returned from the jungle after fleeing from the ceremony of the Elixir. The reds prowled around the perimeter, hands clenched in silent fury, while the purples ran in excited groups between all the evidence of carnage, lost
in their wonder.

  As the hours passed, others emerged from the concealing safety of the jungle and rejoined their people. They instinctively arranged themselves in the order of their awakening. Each knew from long experience who preceded them, and who followed. All sang together in subdued melodies, drinking from the same well of grief. But there was no song for this.

  The body of Utar was swollen with the Changes and encased in a sweet-smelling ichor of gray-purple that had already hardened. Only paces from Utar’s body lay the remains of Green Patch, one of the First killed in the alien’s initial attack. The ichor surrounding the body of Green Patch had become a seamless, green shell, his original form barely recognizable in the opaque contours of the casing.

  With trembling hands, the Awakener raised the scepter. Around him the people of the Imbirri waited for the Ceremony of Ending with the patience of a people who barely marked the passage of time.

  Above, the sky was unblemished —the clouds buoyant as if suspended. In the distance he could see the slender, twisted shape of the nearby crystal monolith, glowing brightly.

  A simple adjustment extended the capacity of the scepter to maximum. The power within the instrument now built steadily, until the energy cell hummed with impatience.

  The Awakener brought the staff down, releasing a mere fraction of the staff’s power in an intense burst of heat. The body of Green Patch, wrapped within a shell of organic resin, was swallowed by a sheath of flame. In seconds, the huge casing had blackened, then it began to melt and burn. Briefly, a golden form was visible within, then the whole was swept to darkness. The beam of power ceased, and a sudden gust of wind swept the ashes across the verdant field where they had all shared so much joy.

  Each of the Imbirri stood in silent contemplation, lamenting the passing of another of their race.

  The Awakener opened his eyes. The power remaining in the staff sought release like a violent child, reaching out to turn his thoughts from peace to rage.

  His gaze fixed on the still form of Utar’s corpse.

  He knew what must come to pass. His mind screamed for him to raise the scepter, to unleash the energies of destruction onto the remnants of Utar’s physical form, yet he could not. It was too soon. With a cry of pain, he raised the weapon skyward and unleashed the energy until the scepter lay cooling in his hand.

  Above them, the low clouds swirled with the heat of the beam’s passing.

  Below, all was still.

  The Awakener turned from the body of Utar. The Ending would have to wait until his grief had passed from him, when his mind was clear. Then he could reduce Utar’s remains to ashes with the proper poise. I will follow with the destruction of the aliens and their strange craft. His desire for revenge burnt within him like a dying sun aching for nova.

  “Find the craft of the aliens,” he said to Reth, a red-crowned First, as he made his way back toward the Tree. “Take Ember and together lead all the Imbirri reds in the search.” The ninety-four reds were the most single-minded and tenacious of the Imbirri, too aggressive even for the Pod Game, from which they had been banned more than a thousand seasons ago, after an incident in which a red had been almost crippled in a pod-fight. Led by Reth and Ember — the only two First reds — they would soon ferret out the hiding place of the human defilers.

  “We will destroy every last trace of them.” The Awakener’s face was set like stone. “But first, I have to rest. Go.”

  ***

  Otla had waited patiently throughout the ceremony. The Awakener’s presence, usually bright like the never-ending light of the crystal mountains, was now dimmed with clouds of pain and indecision. It was painful for all the First to see that change in him. For so long, his vast mind and spirit had been the indomitable foundation of the Imbirri culture, the everlasting font of wisdom, enlightenment, and guidance.

  Now Otla’s multi-faceted eyes followed Reth and Ember as they trotted around the camp to gather the reds, their deep voices chanting in unison. Reds ran from every corner of the clearing, adding their voices to the bass chorus. Time was running fast now.

  Otla watched as his leader disappeared through the living walls of the Tree, imposing even in his agony. Most of the First followed, but the seven acolytes of Utar — Otla, Munch and five others — remained by the Deepwatch’s encased body. Some of the First always kept watch on a slain Imbirri until its remains could be destroyed, to keep the others away and insulate them from the danger of the Changes, which were often triggered by the pungent odors of the transforming body. As acolytes of Utar, this duty had fallen to them.

  Otla knew that the First who had entered the Tree with the Awakener would follow their leader to the end, no matter where his grief and anger would lead him, or how clouded his mind became. The seven acolytes had an allegiance that went beyond even that — to Utar and his last commands.

  Munch and Otla touched minds briefly. It was they who must carry out the next phase of the plan. Alone, and in secret.

  Otla hummed a soft series of notes as he considered the five other acolytes. They also had their part to play. Briefly, he considered telling them everything. If all went according to Utar’s plan, it would be the last time they saw each other — as Imbirri. The four greens were loyal, yet greens were always easier to sway when the songs began, and the Awakener’s power was unquestioned. Too much depended on secrecy. The gold, New Bough, could be trusted to remain silent, but even so would be subject to the Awakener’s control. No. The full details of Utar’s audacious plan must remain a secret, even from them.

  “Go. Rejoin the First,” sang Otla.

  New Bough turned in silence and stalked off. Otla could tell the gold was uneasy at being dismissed so curtly by a green, but Otla was not only ahead of New Bough in the order of Awakening, he was the most senior of Utar’s followers. The greens sang a soft harmony of departure as they followed New Bough toward the Tree, walking in a tightly knit group. Their lighthearted innocence tore at him. This world they had known for so long was soon to end. The knowledge of that, and of what he and Munch must do, burned in his mind.

  Otla and Munch were soon alone beside Utar’s body. The casing that surrounded it was now hard and stiff, the shape of the Deepwatch’s form barely recognizable inside the resin. It was rare that the Changes were allowed to progress as far as this strange, chrysalis stage. What came after … not even Utar would tell him.

  With a heave, they lifted the body to their broad shoulders. The Imbirri around the camp watched them curiously, but did not interfere.

  The two acolytes bore their burden toward the forest, disappearing into the thick growth. They marched steadily toward a place that lay in darkness, beyond the lush green they knew. Many hours later, they reached the dark valley. A place hidden from the great spans of light that swept out from the jagged crystal towers.

  Here they labored, building a bier from the stout trunks of forest trees they had stockpiled earlier. At length, they set the body onto the raised platform. Beneath the body of Utar they set the alien artifact, given to them only moments before his death by Utar himself. With a delicate series of touches on the tiny human device, Otla activated the beacon. He shifted his consciousness briefly, as Utar had taught him, and confirmed that its strange monotonous voice was active, singing in the unseen registers of light.

  Otla and Munch lowered their heads and stood motionless, waiting in fear. The dull, pulsing power within Utar’s inert form reached out to them and at last they fell.

  To be consumed by the Change.

  ***

  For hours Karic watched the thick wooden bars of their cell, beyond sleep. Both Mara and Andrai were lost in a deep coma of exhaustion, heedless of the stink of death or the bright light that flooded into the pit. A cloud of alien insects buzzed and crawled around the corpse of Ibri, and the engineer had long since recognized the futility of waving them away.

  The burn on his left forearm was beginning to heal, the skin torn open by the rough grip of his Imbirri
captors now scabbed over with no sign of infection. There were no blisters, thankfully, just angry red flesh. He had dressed it with torn strips from his shirt and learned to ignore the constant pain, and the lingering numbness.

  Karic jumped up to grasp the thick beams of the cage and maneuver himself into a position where he could peer outward at the camp. By hooking one arm over a bamboo strut, he could push his head past the bars and watch the village for long minutes before the ache in his shoulder and neck drove him back to the pit floor. For now, all seemed quiet.

  Some hours before the Awakener had emerged from the living dome of the Tree with a score of his followers. He had stalked around the camp, enraged, pointing toward the grassed verge where Utar’s body had lain. Although he did not see it happen, Karic could deduce from the Awakener’s tirade and the sheepish reactions of the other Imbirri that some of the aliens had taken the body of Utar, in defiance of both custom and the will of the Awakener. Utar’s remains had escaped the sure destruction meted out by the power of the staff.

  Karic had watched the incineration of the first encased corpse and intuitively knew Utar’s was to follow. These beings feared death and the strange transformation that seemed to accompany it.

  After a long and heated oration, the Awakener had led his followers out of the camp, leaving the simpler Imbirri in his wake, bewildered. Karic knew this was the time to escape, yet how was he to shift the massive weight of the cage door? He had tried to chip at the resin that glued the bars together, but without success. Even with the proper tools, it would be like chiseling granite.

  Karic let himself fall to the floor of the pit, inadvertently awakening Andrai. The tech sat up against the earth wall, his eyes taking in the stiffening corpse of Ibri in a moment of sickening disorientation.

  “How are you feeling, Andrai?” asked Karic.

  Andrai touched the burns on his chest and arms gingerly. “I’ve been better, boss, but I’m alive and still in one piece. Any idea how we can get out of here?”