The Tau Ceti Diversion

by Chris McMahon

  A figure appeared from the surrounding stands of giant fungi. Karic rose to his feet. His hand moved back to rest on the grip of the XR32.

  The Fountain watched Karic carefully as he entered the encampment. The golden exoskeleton that encased his slender form glistened like brightly lacquered wood. The faceted eyes reflected the light like prisms, betraying no emotion.

  Karic reached out toward the being with his mind, clumsily, attempting to make contact. Yet it seemed as though the space the Fintil occupied was vacuum, his mind unreachable. The Fountain seemed more alien than ever and Karic felt frustration and fear. Without the common bond of language, there was nothing that linked him with this strange being, no way to reassure himself he would not betray them. How could he communicate the pressing sense of unease that gripped him? The silence was as tangible as a wall of stone.

  “He gives me the creeps,” said Mara.

  The Fintil turned and walked toward the metal structure and the underground caverns. As Karic watched him go, he realized his hand still remained on the XR32 at his belt and he let it drop. “I don’t trust him either, Mara.”

  Within minutes, the light in the valley had risen to its full intensity. With a sound like thunder, a sheet of purple flame exploded above the valley.

  Mara gasped, dropping her food onto the pale grass as she drew her weapon.

  Andrai looked up at the translucent purple shield as it unfolded above, lost in wonder.

  Karic pulled the XR32 from his holster and searched about him carefully for any sign of threat. Above them, the sheet of flame flattened with a roar, spreading out like a blanket through the thick atmosphere to cover the whole sky above them.

  “Maybe we should move back inside the barrier,” said Karic.

  Mara nodded in agreement.

  “It’s some sort of defensive shield, boss,” said Andrai.

  Karic studied the sky. Andrai was right. The thick purple flame had stretched out like a thin, translucent veil above the valley, sealing it. Cursing, Mara walked back to the campfire and sheathed her weapon. The Fountain returned from the metal structure. He walked straight past them without the slightest hint of recognition. The tall insectoid creature stalked forward with an ominous focus, and Karic swallowed as he saw again the razored edges of his forelimbs, and the huge mandibles. It was an irrational fear, he knew, but humans and insects on Earth had an uneasy truce at best.

  The three humans sat once more. For the first time in days, they began to relax. With the Fountain’s shield above the valley, they should be safe from the Awakener. The conversation between them began to flow more freely, and the light around them began to seem like a gift, rather than a curse.

  The Fountain reappeared a few moments later and sat nearby, resting with his elongated head slumped down onto his torso, his long legs folded back into grooves in the sleek abdomen.

  Karic heard voices. Hundreds of them. Sweet, melodic voices — all growing closer.

  The Imbirri!

  The Fintil roused instantly, pulling himself up to his full height.

  The Awakener swept into view through the sparse growth. He held the scepter like a bludgeon. A gold-crowned Imbirri walked beside him, as though in some position of shared authority. They led a massed group of Imbirri that was coming straight for them. The red-crowned natives — who Karic recognized as the primary attackers on the lander’s first encampment — appeared at the flanks of the group like guards, eyes lit with a feral gleam, huge hands clenching and unclenching at their sides as though wringing imaginary human necks.

  The Fintil held his ground, calmly reaching to adjust a device at his belt. A hum rose into the air, barely audible, but grating on the teeth.

  The crowd of angry Imbirri was only paces away now. Karic backed away, awed by the size of them.

  The Awakener growled as he saw the Fountain. He lowered the scepter and depressed the stud.

  Nothing happened.

  Karic sighed with relief. “The Fountain has somehow dampened the node’s transmission. The Awakener cannot use his weapon.”

  He heard the familiar electric discharge of a defensive shield being cut. Impossible. He turned to see Janzen and a tall, silver-limbed robot step through a deactivated section near the control module.

  “Janzen! No! Stay back!” called Karic.

  The Fintil’s head swiveled toward them.

  Janzen pointed at the Fountain, and the robot’s head followed the gesture. “Eliminate target.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  “No!”

  The slender robot swiveled its thin, articulated arm toward the Fountain and fired. A slender, hot beam shot out straight for the Fountain. The Fintil tried to move, but the beam sliced through him easily, cutting horizontally through his abdomen. His belt snapped, the devices falling to the ground, many cut into smoking pieces. With a shriek, the Fountain collapsed, silver blood flooding from the jagged cut, which was rimmed with green gore.

  The low hum cut off abruptly. The dampening field was gone.

  The Awakener attacked.

  A blazing arc of fire lanced across the clearing. It narrowly missed Karic’s group and struck the slender robot, lifting it from the ground and sending it back into the defensive shield, where it exploded in a shower of sparks.

  Janzen ran for the shield but a burst from the energy weapon struck the ground between him and the lander, knocking him to the ground in an explosion of hot earth. He lay bleeding on the ground, unconscious.

  Deadly fragments of rock and stone whistled past them. The three humans all tried to draw their weapons, yet only Karic managed to fire a rocket before they were subdued by a score of Imbirri and pressed to ground under the sheer weight of alien skin and muscle. The rocket flew through the clearing, narrowly missing the massed group of the Imbirri as they pressed in, to explode with a thudding concussion against the stalk of a giant fungus.

  The Awakener stepped forward slowly, aiming the scepter at Janzen. But the executive was dead to the world, and the Awakener lifted the weapon without firing it, turning instead to the Utar’s chrysalis. He trembled with suppressed emotion.

  Karic struggled against the grip of his captors, managing to free his head for long enough to search the clearing for the Fintil. His heart sank as he saw the Fountain’s crumpled form. A score of Imbirri now surrounded the body, busily scavenging any devices that remained intact. The robot’s laser had cut him in two.

  The Imbirri left the Fintil’s twisted body lying alone and discarded.

  Standing near the bier, the Awakener held the staff aloft. A soft rhythmic sound came from the weapon as the power within it slowly built. His huge eyes were fixed on the hardened shell that contained Utar’s remains.

  He drew himself up and looked about him in triumph. Karic needed no Imbirri guidebook to see the poise of the victor in the alien leader. He began an impassioned speech in the melodic language of the Imbirri. The other Imbirri listened in awed silence. He held them all in thrall.

  The Awakener pointed to Utar’s chrysalis, his tone now discordant and harsh. He clearly considered it an abomination. He leveled the weapon toward the remains of Utar. His face was alive with power, his eyes glowing bright yellow like twin torch beams, hypnotic. So Utar will be the first to be destroyed. Karic let his head sink into the rough Earth. He smelled the pungent, alien odor of the fungi grass, which had been crushed to a pulp beneath him.

  Karic looked up. There must be a way!

  Utar’s chrysalis had long ago hardened to a sleek black casing, which had grown more brittle as it dried. Within, a form began to struggle against the skin, seeking to rip through the tough leather-like casing.

  The Awakener reached for the stud that would unleash the pent power of the weapon. Nothing remained to challenge him. He was supreme on Cru.

  CHAPTER 19

  Karic did not struggle against his captors. Their combined weight, aided by the heavy gravity of Cru, was enough to snap his spine. It was difficult to br
eathe. In moments, Utar would die, before he could emerge from his chrysalis as an adult Fintil. And with the Fountain dead, the newly born Fintil was their last hope of surviving on Cru. There was only one thing he could do.

  Ignoring the pain, he let himself drift into the fugue state. It was waiting for him. His vision swam with familiar patterns. He felt his mind expand, reaching out. He could sense the minds of the Imbirri that held him as dull centers of sentience, but he ignored them. His mind touched the Fountain. He was alive! Struggling to maintain consciousness. Karic twisted his head around. The Fountain was motionless, the jagged wound plugged by a rapidly hardening white resin. Karic marveled at the alien’s resilience.

  A wild plan formed in Karic’s head. If he could distract the Awakener long enough for Utar to emerge and for the Fountain to recover … perhaps together they could stop the Awakener.

  Karic reached out toward the Awakener, a ghostly tendril of spirit lancing through the Imbirri like a barbed harpoon. The Awakener gasped in shock and turned toward him. Karic gave him no time to react. He let his spirit swell, forcing the Awakener to link minds with him. A wave of outrage struck Karic across the mental link. The Awakener had none of the Fountain’s sophistication and control and could not break the connection. Karic sensed the awesome power of the Awakener’s determination. The drive to protect his people at all costs. It was the core of his being, his very purpose for existence.

  As he had with the Fountain, he immersed himself in a haze of detail. His mind filled with endless schematics and the complex modeling exercises they carried out on the fusion drive before each test, where the slightest error might create a hydrogen bomb. Memories of the days of testing on the purpose-built shield generators, examining every single circuit, controller, and backup. All etched into his brain through the bright lens of the stim-drugs. He poured it all into the Awakener’s mind.

  An agonized groan escaped the Awakener’s mouth. His finger hesitated above the activating stud, the scepter held immobile as he swayed under the assault. The bright flare of his eyes dimmed to black as his inner vision was swamped by the cascade of weird images.

  The gold-crown Imbirri beside the Awakener sang a quick series of notes, and a small group of natives — perhaps those favored few who dwelt with the leader inside their sacred Tree — stepped forward uncertainly. They questioned the Awakener in their mellifluous native language, but when he did not respond, they grew silent, watching him with darkened eyes for any sign or command. The rest of the Imbirri waited patiently for their leader to choose the time of his revenge, content to watch the glorious moment suspended in time.

  The Awakener’s mind, having grown like a spreading tree through the centuries, now drew from deep roots that sank into the very soul of Cru.

  Karic had a sudden sense of the power of the Awakener. He experienced the same awe and fear as a whaler of the 19th century may have felt as their huge prey turned on their fragile wooden longboat in fury. Instinctively, he tried to sever the connection. It was too late. The Imbirri’s mind swelled around him, holding Karic in place.

  A torrent of flame filled Karic’s vision. White-hot pain shot along every nerve, from the tips of his fingers and toes to his head. His mouth opened in a silent scream. Once, on holidays years ago, he had been stung by a stingray. The nerve toxin had left him in excruciating pain for days. This was ten times that intensity. His brain was on fire with it.

  Karic clung desperately to consciousness. He knew that every moment he distracted the Awakener increased their chances. Wave upon wave crashed down. Karic endured it all. He stood like a naked child against the Awakener’s fury. Karic’s strength was failing, while the Awakener, sensing victory, grew stronger. His power was immense. The Imbirri leader drew back, gathering for a renewed assault.

  Karic’s vision cleared for a moment.

  The Awakener towered over him, the scepter held loosely and forgotten in his hands as he focused his huge, pulsing eyes on Karic.

  The Fountain had crawled to the struggling form of Utar, pulling himself forward on slender arms, using his wings as crutches, dragging his thorax and severed abdomen behind him. His once sleek body was ruined and silver blood streaked his damaged torso around the resin plug. The Fountain drew himself up and rested against the chrysalis. His eyes glittered with determination. He laid his slim hands on the dark leather. The form within Utar’s chrysalis ceased to struggle, calmed by the Fountain’s touch. The gathered Imbirri drew back in fear from the Fintil. Some even cried out to the Awakener, but their leader remained silent, his expression rigid as a death mask as his mind descended on Karic once more.

  Karic’s strength flowed back. My plan is working. He turned to the Awakener, determined to hold him for as long as he could. His vision fled once more, lost in flames of white and orange. And the pain returned. His teeth clenched shut in a convulsive reflex, and he tasted blood.

  Then a miracle.

  Nearby, there was a sudden flowering of spirit. A wave of intense joy that flooded both his and the Awakener’s mind. The Fountain. All three of them were linked mind-to-mind. The Awakener ceased his attack. Karic laughed with relief at the absence of pain.

  Karic’s vision cleared once more. The Awakener had turned to face the bier, the scepter loose in his big hand. Silence filled the clearing. Above them, the shield embraced the sky, shimmering violet.

  The Fountain swayed back, lifting the razor tip of a wing to the tough casing. With a swift movement, the Fountain ripped through the enclosing sheath.

  The Fountain sang out in a pure voice, a long series of notes full of power and beauty. There was a silent pause, as though the planet itself drew breath. Then Utar’s golden form rose gracefully from the bier. He looked around the clearing with perfect, glistening eyes and extended his wings, which were still wet from the Change. They spread exquisitely, patterned symmetrically like stained glass. The facets caught the light in a dazzling display.

  Utar’s mind expanded, reaching out to them. Now all four of them were linked.

  The scepter fell from the Awakener’s slackened grip. His shoulders slumped forward in shock.

  Utar looked at each of them.

  “I have been Imbirri,” sent Utar, his thoughts clear and dazzling. “I recall this, and all that I have been. Yet now I am … changed.”

  “You are Fintil,” sent the Fountain in awe. “Never before has one of our race remembered their pre-Change life.”

  The Imbirri around Utar looked upon him with fear and awe, trapped within his gaze. He turned to them and sang in the language of the Imbirri.

  “I am Utar.”

  As though a storm had broken, the other Imbirri howled in fear and fled, leaving only the Awakener, the three humans, and the two Fintil behind. Karic felt a wave of blessed relief as his captors released him.

  The Fountain used his wings to push himself upright. He carefully picked up the fallen scepter then turned back to Utar. “You … you’re magnificent! A male — and no innocent — you recall thousands of years of sentience!”

  The older Fintil drew his ruined body toward Utar. “I am the Fountain.”

  Karic picked himself up off the ground and dusted himself off. He watched the Awakener warily. The big Imbirri’s eyes were dark, and he was swaying slightly from side to side.

  Utar and the Fountain shared in a silent moment of recognition, then the Fountain helped the newly born Fintil from the discarded casing and led him from the bier. There was a rapid mental communication between them that Karic was locked out of.

  The Fountain turned to Karic. “One of you almost brought us to ruin, and yet, once more you have saved us all.” Karic could feel the Fountain’s joy, now that he knew the future of his race was assured, and his gratitude. “Your attack on the Awakener was impressive, and I am reassured. Your mind, human, is close to being fully developed. This could mean only one thing: your race is at the point of transformation. The Elders will take a much kinder view of this. Mental contact betwee
n the Fintil and a race without true mental powers — a pre-transformation species — would be a far graver crime.”

  Karic struggled to follow the Fountain’s reasoning. Transformation, as the Fountain understood it, seemed to be related to the development of certain mental powers within a species, yet weren’t his own simply an accident?

  “You represent a seed from which a transformation will spread through the fertile minds of your planet. There is now hope that your race will be fully transformed before you encroach upon the star-systems of another confederation.”

  The Awakener’s eyes flickered with yellow lights. The big Imbirri shivered, and the great folds of skin danced on his frame. His huge chest heaved with short, rapid breaths. He turned toward the two Fintil, his big face writhing in fear. His gaze settled on Utar.

  The Fountain watched the Awakener carefully.

  All four of them were still linked mind-to-mind, within the compass of Utar’s power.

  The Fountain smiled and turned away. “The next generation will now take over.” With a soft cry of pain, the Fountain sunk to the ground, the pain in his body too much to bear any longer.

  Utar walked forward gracefully. “Awakener. It is I.”

  The Awakener backed away. “No! You were killed!”

  Utar smiled. “Come to me, my friend, and sleep in my embrace.” He opened his slender golden arms.

  The Awakener trembled. His eyes pulsed with sadness. “For so long I have buried the grief of your passing … I tried to burn it with fires of revenge.” The Awakener bellowed. It was a sad, mournful sound. “Utar, I have killed. So many Imbirri … so many. Dead under my hand. Each face comes back to me like a curse. I just wanted to protect them. I wanted the Imbirri to live.”

  “I, too, was wrong. I saw that the path lay sundered. I saw the passing of the Imbirri as our end … but it was not the dark tide, my old friend. It was the bright tide, drawing us into the future. Do not resist it. Do not resist.”