“The Davis family is finished, Janzen. We both know that,” said Karic, touching his bleeding lower lip with a finger. “We’ve got you, Janzen. Got you cold. And you are out of dirty tricks.”
He waved to Andrai. “Swivel the camera down. Janzen can make the transmission from the suspension couch.”
Janzen’s eyes bored into Karic’s. What Karic saw there was pure hate. And a desperate hunger for power at any cost.
“Do we have the uplink?” he asked Mara.
“Yes, Commander,” she replied.
“Start the record.” Karic smiled at Janzen, knowing the blood would be staining his teeth. He wore it like a badge of honor.
All three of them glared at Janzen with cold determination, waiting.
Janzen began talking in a flat monotone, like he was dictating to his odin. The words came out in a swift flood, as though he wanted to get an unpleasant task over as quickly as possible. His eyes were glazed, looking into some strange world they could not see. More than a dozen times they had to stop the recording and force him to revise his weasel-words, but eventually they had it — everything. His admission to knowledge of the X-rays from Tau Ceti, and his plan to divert to the system from Epsilon Eridani despite of the risk — basically an admission of guilt in the murder of the thirty-three crew. His attacks on the Imbirri. His falsified reports back to Earth. The truth about Cru, its advanced inhabitants and their technology. Everything.
“Transmit it,” said Karic. The lander’s cabin, Mara, Andrai and Janzen — everything was outlined in a stunning clarity. He wanted to fix this moment in his mind forever. Justice at last for Evelle, for all those dead crew.
Janzen sagged back, defeated. “Put me under. Do it.”
“Finally. A command I can follow,” said Mara. “Do you mind, Karic?”
He grinned, gesturing at the controls of the suspension couch. “Be my guest.”
Mara’s dark eyes fixed on Janzen. “Next time we see you, Davis, it will be with security personnel ready to take you into custody.” She activated the fields. “Sweet dreams, scumbag.”
As the shimmering, insubstantial fields wrapped around Janzen, his slumped body grew immobile, his defeated posture and haunted face frozen in place like some ghastly, living statue.
“And good riddance,” spat Mara. “Now, can we get off this rock?”
***
“Karic, it’s the Fountain. He’s emerging from his cocoon.” Karic and Mara looked up from the lander console to see Andrai in the hatchway, out of breath. He must have run to get there.
“At last,” said Karic.
Mara’s heart skipped a beat, and she shut down her terminal.
“Maybe now we can get back to Starburst,” said Karic. “Come on!”
Mara maneuvered around the inert bulk of Janzen’s suspension couch, careful not to contact the almost invisible fields. She followed the two men as they made their way through the barrier shield to the bier, where the Fountain had collapsed into his swoon days before. Those days had been tense, and filled with forced activity. In reality, there was little they could do until they returned to the ship. Utar had remained distant, and although they had seen him constantly moving around the valley, they had no further communication from him. It was as though the whole planet held its breath, waiting for the births.
Outside, Mara looked at the quivering form of the Fountain’s chrysalis with mixed feelings. She still feared these enigmatic aliens. Even the Fountain, who should be their greatest ally. Beside her, Karic was tense, while Andrai’s eyes were alive with wonder.
With a tearing sound, a long split formed in the casing: the Fountain emerged from his transparent cocoon, sleek body glistening in the light of the tower. Torso and limbs bright gold — almost reflective in their newness — and now showing striped highlights of green, red, blue and violet.
Karic stepped toward him. The Fountain turned to watch Karic for a brief moment before turning away.
“I don’t think he’s interested in conversation,” said Andrai.
The Fintil took to the air with one powerful surge. He climbed rapidly, disappearing above them.
“Damn!” cursed Karic.
They knew their time on the planet was drawing to a close. Fate had led them to Cru, drawing them into the middle of a crisis for the Imbirri. But now the Imbirri were gone — transformed by the Changes — and the Fintil who would emerge in their place would not know them. They would be intruders, aliens who were forbidden on this ancient planet by the Har Confederation, of which the Fintil race was a member. Karic was silent and tense as they returned to the lander to continue working on the systems that ran the suspension gear.
Later, as Mara was outside the lander adjusting the uplink, she became aware of a presence nearby. She turned to see the Fountain just outside the shield. A shock of fear went through her at the sight of the tall alien. Mara had not seen him return from his flight, or heard him approach, but there he was, his new body glistening like a finely wrought, golden statue. Mara looked into the dark, glittering eyes — as perfect as jewels — and sensed the gentle power of his spirit swelling within him, as though waiting for a subtle signal from her before reaching outward. She was touched with a sense of an almost seductive, illicit possibility.
Her own mind still surged with strange rhythms, fuelled by the rebirth around her. She had vowed never to mind-bond again, but the Fountain, unlike Karic or Andrai, would not pass judgment on her thoughts in the personal way her human companions would.
Mara subdued her fear and stepped toward the barrier.
The Fountain let his spirit swell toward her. She felt a wave of liquid gold, bereft of heat, yet charged with alien emotion.
The connection formed.
“I am ready to return you to your ship. But first I must wait for the rebirth of the Awakener as an adult Fintil. The time of the birth is very near and I dare not be absent,” thought the Fountain across the bridge of minds.
Mara was spellbound by the intensity of the union, the wonderful simplicity of it.
“I understand,” said Mara, awed by the experience. She tried to concentrate and focus on her thoughts.
The pressure of the Fountain’s mind increased, pressing deeper. Mara felt images and feelings stir, rising to the surface, fleeing across the bridge toward him. Suddenly, she realized he was probing her mind, drawing forth her own memories and impressions against her will. She reacted instinctively, withdrawing her mind and severing the link.
The Fountain recoiled in surprise, then clicked his mandibles.
Cautiously, she let the bond establish once more. This time he made no attempts to probe deeper. The Fountain was irritated at the enforced restraint, she could sense it immediately.
“I will transport you to your ship in the large craft, the one you call the lander. The other must be left, and will be destroyed. Be prepared.”
The Fintil stalked away.
Mara laughed, exhilarated. She had communicated telepathically with an alien! She felt dizzy and put her hand out against the metal struts of the uplink array to steady herself. Not only had she done it, she had controlled it. The Fountain had been unable to force her. She realized she would always be able to sense what others were seeing in her own mind as her thoughts crossed the threshold of consciousness between them. She would always be able to fight to keep the greater part of her mind her own. The potential for mental violation was still frightening to her, and in that way, the gift was a mixed blessing. Another jaded pearl from Pandora’s Box.
She knew the human voice would never be replaced. Its warmth, its economy, was so natural, so easy … and mental communication was exhausting. Yet the power to communicate in this way was transformative, allowing mankind to reach beyond boundaries that were otherwise insurmountable. Races and species with no common bond of language could use it to made their first contact, as had the humans and the Fintil — without danger of misunderstanding, with spirits joined in harmony … It truly was t
he gift of a starfaring species.
Mara turned back toward the lander and saw Andrai approach across the clearing. He grinned and she returned his smile.
“Having a little chat?” said Andrai.
Mara laughed. “Yes.”
“It’s weird, isn’t it?” said Andrai.
“I’ve got to tell Karic what he said. Can you finish adjusting the uplink?”
“Sure,” replied Andrai, bending to the task.
Inside the lander, Karic was working on the final adjustments to the suspension gear. Three other couches were now set up beside Janzen’s, taking up every piece of spare floor space. He looked up, eager for news.
“The Fountain spoke to you?”
“Yes. He is ready to take us back to the Starburst, but wants to wait until the rebirth of the Awakener. He insists we travel in the lander and leave the pod behind.”
Karic’s eyes shone. “He must mean to lift the lander into orbit. The core section computer already holds all the data. And it has the suspension gear.
“We should send all the data we have up to the Starburst through the uplink. Our presence on Cru may be some violation of the Fintil’s code, but I am determined that our observations on this world reach Earth as soon as possible. I am not taking any chances.”
“I’ll let Andrai know,” said Mara. “In a way, I’m glad we are staying for the birth. I want to see what the Awakener has become.”
Karic nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I am curious as well. Although in some ways, I would be happier if we were all gone from Cru before the Awakener emerges as a Fintil.”
Mara knew what he meant. The Awakener had been their greatest enemy on Cru.
“I’ll find Andrai and get to work transferring the data,” said Mara.
“OK,” said Karic. He gave her a long searching look, which she ignored. She left him alone inside the lander and rushed over to Andrai.
They were going home.
***
The Fountain swept through the clouds, reveling in the feeling of freedom. These were strange times. Strange and wonderful. He and his people had survived, and a new, reinvigorated generation of Fintil rapidly approached the time of their birth. His new belt was heavy with devices, some recovered from the valley near the Fintil cocoons — dropped by fleeing Imbirri as they succumbed to the changes — others replaced from hidden stockpiles beneath the transmission node. He would not be surprised again.
Around him the winds were cool, the sky dark, unfettered.
He had deactivated the shield over the valley, then increased the output of the fusion generators, pumping radiant energy through the transmission node in waves. This would draw in any Fintil birthed outside the valley.
The Fintil had to be allowed to develop in peace, and the humans dealt with as planned. They had proved to be dangerous, and divided in purpose, but he expected little else from a pre-transformation species. If not for the hasty bargain made with Karic on the peak, he would have destroyed them long ago. As it was, he had to adapt his strategy. Karic assured him the human who almost killed him had been subdued and placed in stasis, and would be dealt with by human justice on their return to Earth. He believed Karic’s intentions were pure, yet mistrusted his ability to control the outcome. Other measures were necessary.
He had planned to send the humans on their way well before the new Fintil awoke, but he had not anticipated being injured and forced into an extended period of regeneration. He ground his mandibles together in irritation. Now it was too close to the time of rebirth to even consider removing them.
The Fountain had discussed the humans with the talented newly born Fintil, Utar, whom he had now adopted as his protégé, and knew he would support releasing them from the planet, yet the final outcome was far from certain. Once the new race of Fintil hatched he would no longer be the undisputed master of Cru. In the rigid Fintil hierarchy, it was the most senior female who ruled. It was possible she could sway the Fintil against him and have the humans destroyed.
His wings beat furiously with the thought, and he stilled them with an effort of will.
Unacceptable.
It was essential that the four humans be returned to their home world. He had removed the scepter and done everything in his power to ensure there was no technology that the newborn Fintil could seize that would seriously challenge the humans, yet still … what if the leading female should set Utar against him? He must prevent it at all costs. He must be ready to act.
He forced himself to be calm. All was going well. Now, the human female, the one called Mara, had the gift. It was a promising sign. The Fountain chittered happily. The next voyage of the human ship would be to Earth — carrying the precious cargo of transformation. Once in the midst of such cataclysmic change, the human race would cease to be a threat for a long, long time — if they survived at all.
Should more human exploration ships come searching through Cru’s system, they would be turned away by a shield of illusion. Their sensors would show them an unstable system filled with deadly radiation. A system with nothing of interest or value. If these exploration ships should pierce Cru’s deceptions and concealing shields — they would be destroyed without mercy. No trace of them would remain.
He was high above the valley. It was cold here, and the ceaseless storms of the upper atmosphere thundered above his head.
The Fountain shortened his wings and turned into a steep dive.
He had done all he could. One way or another, the problem of the humans would be solved. Then he would remain on as a guide for those that came after — the Fountain of knowledge. He would grapple with his crimes against the Har Confederation in due course.
The ground rushed toward him.
Below, hundreds of darkened cases were scattered across the valley floor — Imbirri cocoons — all dwarfed by the massive chrysalis of the Awakener, which quivered in the final, painful phase of the Changes.
He threw out his wings, pulling out of the dive, and soared low over the shriveled fungi.
The time of rebirth was near.
The shielded enclosure of the humans, shimmering blue within the sparse valley, was a violation of this sacred place. The old Fintil nodded gravely. It was time this sordid drama was ended.
The Fountain landed softly and fixed his eyes fondly on the writhing form of the Awakener.
“Soon,” he whispered.
CHAPTER 22
Karic, Andrai and Mara approached their defensive screen, preparing to deactivate and dismantle the device. It was time to leave Cru.
The young Fintil were a familiar sight in the valley now. The first arrived singly or in small groups. Then, hours later, hundreds appeared at once. These must have been those born in the valley. They were magnificent. They circled the transmission node, singing and calling out as they flashed past each other. Together, they would form into groups or pairs, always moving. The more daring dove toward the bright mass of the transmission node, to pull away at the last instant. They shimmered as though lacquered, the light brushstrokes of brilliant color on their golden shells unique to each individual. Beautiful. Alien.
Karic’s head thudded with tension. Freedom was closer than ever, yet the possibility of disaster boiled around them like molten sulfur. He knew the Fountain would let them leave — while the ancient Fintil was master of Cru — but could he maintain control after the rebirth of the Awakener?
Returning to the Starburst was only the first hurdle. Then they had to make it out of the Tau Ceti system. Only then could they look to Earth …
Would they be hailed as heroes? Would his own place among the next generation of starship travelers be assured? Or would their homecoming be the end of the odyssey that had propelled him through his life?
Had he challenged Janzen sooner, the crew — and Evelle — would be alive. They might still be waiting at Epsilon Eridani for news of a new target system. Perhaps they would be already heading there, a full crew in an undamaged ship.
Yet he h
ad not. Instead, their path brought them to Cru — and a bitter harvest of betrayal, pain and death. Now, to survive, they had to return to Earth. To leave this living world; this inexplicable haven crafted with high technology on what should have been a hell planet of blistering heat and frigid waste. If only the Fintil were more open to them. If only they could stay and study what they had found. If only the Starburst were ready for new destinations …
Karic’s hands tightened into fists at his side. He willed them open and forced himself to relax.
He keyed in the deactivation sequence for the shield.
The power cell in the main unit switched to standby with a low roar. One-by-one, each of the shield walls disappeared. The air filled with the smell of ozone as thousands of volts surged across the gaps in the final discharges. The indicator lights on the control panel faded and the rapidly changing digital readout grew static. Each of the shield components shrank and folded into its storage configuration, filling internal voids until they were rectangular ingots with a fraction their functional volume.
The camp was now fully exposed. In this show of goodwill, they were relying on their trust of the Fountain, and that he would honor Karic’s bargain, as events moved outside their control.
Karic tried to appear calm, but his tension was obvious. “Let’s get this gear into the core section.”
Mara and Andrai quickly carried the equipment back to the lander.
Karic looked around him at the alien world and the golden-limbed Fintil above him, chittering together in an excited chorus as they flew circuits around the transmission node. They were a riot of color, most of the newborns’ wings and thorax highlighted predominantly with green, yet others colored with bright highlights of red or purple. Always before when he had communicated with the Fountain, he had heard the Fintil’s thoughts in his mind, a fact that made his Fintil speech somehow familiar. But these voices … they were so alien. His stomach gave a sickening lurch, as though the ground had moved under his feet.
The Tau Ceti Diversion Page 33
