Eternity Row

by neetha Napew

  “Raised with aliens, weren’t you? That would explain the hostility and the lousy deportment. So don’t drink-hell, I’m not going let good champers like this go to waste.” Maggie drank from the bottle, then belched.

  He glanced at me. “She does this to you every time?”

  “Every time.”

  Taking the bottle with her, Maggie sat down to give a test bounce on the bed. “Excellent firmness. Really, Dunkie, you should have nailed her back then. Would have put a little flex in that titanium spine of hers.”

  “Okay, you’ve embarrassed me enough, fun’s over now.” I had my own hands clenched. “Get to the point.”

  “Gee, I thought I had. You’re stuck on this wormball here, and you’re supposed to be on my homeworld.” Maggie lit an illegal cigarette and dragged the smoke in before releasing it with a satisfied sigh. “I’m not very happy with you, baby.”

  “You’ll survive.” I coughed and waved a hand in front of my face. “These people have taken us prisoner. Besides, we haven’t figured out where your world is yet anyway.”

  “I told you back on Terra to move your little ass. You got the discs. You got the big blueberry guys to chauffeur you around and lots of big guns to guard you with. How hard can this be?” Maggie took another drink and sighed. “Jesus, Joey, just do what the hell I told you to do.”

  “Cherijo has no obligation to do anything for you.” Duncan began pacing in front of the bed. “You don’t own her any more than Joseph Grey Veil did.”

  “Ah, but there’s where you’re wrong, son. She’s all mine.” Maggie grinned at me as a box appeared on the bed, and she opened it. The red dress Ana Hansen had once lent me spilled across her thighs. “Yikes, what a choice little number. I know you didn’t pick out this one.”

  “It was a gift from a friend-“ I made a frustrated sound. “Look, there’s nothing I can do to get to Jxinok faster. We may not even make it off this planet alive.” I snatched the dress out of her hands and tossed it back in the box. “Are we done now?”

  “Not yet.” Maggie got up and walked another circle around Duncan. “You two had better straighten out the other problem you have, because I can’t keep barging in to save your backsides every time something goes wrong.”

  “Save our backsides?” I threw my arms up. “Please, refresh my memory, because I don’t remember you doing a damn thing for either of us.”

  “Who told you to keep your mouth shut about the baby around Joseph? Who told you to tell handsome here about it, for that matter?” Maggie turned to Duncan. “And did she listen to me? No. She made you wait until you could see the kid. Is that trust, I ask you?”

  “I didn’t even know if Marel was alive,” I said, snarling. “I wasn’t going to let Duncan go through that, too.”

  “That comes with the territory, when you love someone. You share the good stuff, and the agony. It all comes down to the same thing, Joey. Trust.” My former companion returned for the bottle and shoved it back in the silver ice bucket on the cart. “You and Duncan have figured out the love thing. You’re halfway to figuring out the parent thing. Now you’ve got to deal with the trust. It’s got to be total, blind, and unwavering.”

  “I trust Duncan.”

  “Honey, you haven’t trusted anyone since you found out your father cooked you up in a test tube.” Maggie laughed. “As for this husband of yours, he’s made a living out of not trusting anyone. I’ll leave you two to get to work on that and, oh, hurry up and get off this sticky, wet rock.”

  She pushed the cart toward the door, and Duncan suddenly lunged after her. He grabbed her arms and forced her around. “Tell my wife the truth.”

  “Ooooh, big and strong and everything a woman wants in an alpha male.” Maggie felt the muscles in his arms. “Much as I’m tempted, you might want to let go of me, pal.”

  Duncan only gave her a shake. “You’re not emanating from a subliminal implant. I can feel you. You’re a life force. You’re projecting.”

  “Smart boy.” Maggie patted his cheek. “Let me give you some practical advice.” She gently pushed one hand against his chest. Reever suddenly flew across the room and crashed into one of the walls. “Don’t mess with this life force.”

  “Duncan!” I ran to him, but he was already pushing himself up from the deck. I whirled around and spat, “You bitch!”

  “Takes one to raise one.” She whistled as she pushed the cart through the door panel. “By the way, that hypercellular injector you used on the old ball and chain there has done some interior redecorating. I think it would do you both some good to take a better look at that.”

  “How?” I shouted. “What has it done to him? Tell me!”

  “Simple, sweetheart. Use a mirror.” With that, Maggie disappeared, along with the hotel room and the abyss.

  My husband and I wound up inside my head, still connected by the link. I sent out a tentative feeler of thought. Duncan? You okay? Answer me.

  I’m fine. His thoughts were strong and steady- much steadier than my own. That female is a menace.

  Tell me about it. I collected myself. We’d better get back to the lynch mob.

  Cherijo, what she said-

  Not now, Duncan. We’ve got to live long enough to get back to the Sunlace first. Then we can dissect Maggie’s little speech.

  Swimming back to consciousness wasn’t difficult. One of the Taercal helped by dousing me with a bucket of cold, white water.

  “Wha-“ I spluttered and shook my head, trying to free a hand to wipe my face. Only I couldn’t.

  I was pinned inside stone-one of the stone blocks we’d seen all around the city. Only my head stuck out through the hole at the top. Something soft and slimy wriggled against my body. Worms. They’d put worms inside this thing with me.

  “Reever!”

  “Beside you.” My husband, Salo, and my ClanBrother occupied the nearest stone blocks.

  I tried to lift my arms out, but there was no room. “Where’s Alunthri and Dhreen?”

  “I don’t know. Stay calm.”

  Something hopped up on the stone in front of my nose. A small animal with mud-colored fur, four stunted limbs, and translucent hide wings. It hissed at me, and displayed two rows of needle-sharp teeth.

  I did not need my face eaten off. “Get away from me!”

  It shrieked, hopped back, and took off into the air.

  “Drown the demon lack-wit!”

  Trying to see who yelled that hurt my neck, then something slipped down the back of my collar. I tucked my chin in and saw that the top of the stone block was heaping with worms, which were crawling into the cavity holding me.

  I was going to vomit. Soon. “Duncan-“

  “I know,” he said. “Don’t think about it.”

  A mob approached the stones. In front of them was a long row of monitors, Tadam Ortsac, Hawk, and Dhreen. Alunthri was nowhere in sight.

  Ortsac nodded to the monitors holding Dhreen, and they jerked his head up by yanking on his orange hair. My Oenrallian patient, who should have been in his critical care berth, looked numb and pale.

  “Behold the blood polluter, the defiler, the inflictor of pestilence.” Big Bird lashed Dhreen across the face with a stick. Orange blood beaded along the long line of the resulting weal. “Sadda shall rend its flesh and suck from its bones!”

  “Stop it!” I fought the stone box, desperately trying to work my arms free. “You can’t do this. Let us go!”

  No one so much as glanced at me. Everyone shouted as Ortsac struck Dhreen in the face a second time.

  “Cherijo.” My husband nodded at the nearest ziggurat. “Alunthri was taken within, there. They seem to believe the Chakacat is the reincarnation of their messiah.”

  “Space their messiah; they’re going to kill Dhreen.” I stopped writhing and tried to concentrate on feeling for any spare inch of room or loose spot. “Why are they beating him? He just got here. He hasn’t done anything.”

  Xonea’s head jerked as he struggled wit
h his stone cage. “He resembles the pictographs over the thresholds.”

  “What?” I stared at Dhreen as they dragged him toward us. “I thought they were some kind of horned deity.”

  “Judging by their reaction, I think not.”

  “Hey, Doc.” Blood stained Dhreen’s smile. “I was feeling better before I got here.” He grimaced as another monitor struck him on the back of the neck.

  “Be quiet and keep your head down.” I caught the official’s eye. “Tadam Ortsac, this male means you no harm. He’s very sick. Please, release him.”

  “His seed polluted our kind.” His fat face creased with a smile. “Sadda will grind him back into the soil from which he came.”

  “Father!” Hawk, who was being dragged over to the stones behind Dhreen, broke free of the Taercal holding him. “Father, do not allow them to do this! My friends have only offered friendship to your people!”

  Fen Yillut appeared out of the crowd, so pale and drawn he resembled a walking skeleton. The crippled hand he used to point at Hawk, however, remained steady. “Born of a pilgrimage of suffering, my son,” he said to the others in the crowd.

  “I am your son,” Hawk said. “As your son, I beg you, stop this.”

  “My only son, and still you betray Sadda’s Promise.”

  “I haven’t done anything but find you.” Hawk’s beautiful voice broke on those last two words. “Father, please.”

  “You brought the demon lack-wit to our world,” the old man said as he shuffled forward. “It is my place to wield Sadda’s Claw, in his name.”

  One of the monitors handed Fen a heavy, thick wooden club. Sharp, stained stones shaped like talons were embedded in the knobby end. I thought of the bodies in the ditches, and wondered how many of them were missing the backs of their skulls.

  The needle-toothed monkey-birds began circling overhead.

  “Hawk!” I screamed as Fen lifted the club.

  The hataali had been standing frozen, staring at his father in disbelief. As the ceremonial club swung down, Hawk suddenly jumped back and up.

  Then Reever shouted, “Fly!”

  Hawk’s powerful wings swept out once, twice, and then he was hurtling up into the fog. The crowd rushed forward, trying to grab him, but he was already too high. His black wings swept through the air until the mist closed around him, and he vanished.

  PART THREE: Revelations

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Sustenance

  Hawk’s escape stirred up the crowd, and like any angry mob they turned on who was left. The monitors managed to hold them back, but it didn’t look like that would last for long.

  All of this, in the name of religion?

  “Really nice, Wart Sack,” I said to the obese official as he waddled over to stand in front of me. “Come to Taerca, get your skull beaten in with a big stick, no extra charge.”

  “Sadda is returned to us.” He flicked his pudgy hand at me in a snide little shoo-shoo. “You are less than dust.”

  Reever took his usual approach. “Sadda is returned to you, and yet you dare the wrath of the ten thousand gods by offering unworthy sacrifice.”

  “Why, Reever.” I pretended to be offended. “You promised you wouldn’t tell them we’re not worthy of getting our heads bashed in. Now you’ve gone and ruined the entire sacrifice for everyone.”

  “Quiet, Cherijo.” To Ortsac, he said, “A wise leader would display sacrifices for Sadda’s inspection and obtain his leave to offer, now that he is here among the people. But you did not think of that, did you, Tadam Ortsac?”

  Mr. Superfluity’s feathers bristled. “There is no one more devoted to Sadda than I. I have spent my life preparing for his return.”

  “Have you?” Reever lowered his voice to a bare whisper. “Or have you spent that time stuffing your throat and adorning yourself?”

  The fat Taercal reeled back from the stone, acting the offended one now. “I am that which Sadda will need. All I have done is for the glory of the great one.”

  “Might want to check with Sadda anyway,” I suggested. “Just to be on the safe side. Nothing like screwing up a sacrifice to bring down celestial wrath.”

  “No!” Ortsac blocked a monitor who was hefting a club in my direction. “Do not ply Sadda’s Claw yet. We must seek Sadda’s approval, now that he is come.”

  A ripple of unease ran through the crowd. It was apparently easier worshipping an absent deity by bashing in people’s heads than asking permission for the same from one in person.

  “Summon the great one from his abode,” Ortsac said to another monitor. “Beg Sadda’s indulgence in this, for which we need his council.”

  “The Terran lies.” Fen Yillut pushed past the monitors and went to work with his finger again. This time he pointed at Duncan. “He seeks to preserve himself by plying persuasion. They are all like that.”

  “I’d much rather suture your face shut,” I mentioned. “Just FYI.”

  “Silence. Fen Yillut, your attentiveness is admirable, but I have this situation in hand.” Ortsac had puffed himself up and now stood like an enormous, overstuffed chicken. “Monitors, summon Sadda from his abode.”

  Off the guys with the sticks went, into the largest of the ziggurats in the city. I wondered how the Chakacat was handling godhood.

  Pretty well, I found out, when the monitor returned. “Sadda summons the faithful to his abode. Sadda will inspect the sacrifice within the confines of his holy place.”

  “Thank you, Sadda,” I said as two of the monitors came at my stone. They pressed their hands on either side, and two hidden recesses popped out. A moment later, the stone split in half, much like the door in the city wall. My confinement came to an abrupt end, but my limbs were numb and made me fall forward. A slushy pile of mostly dead worms poured out on top of me. The monitors grabbed me just before I smacked face first into the dirt.

  “Cherijo?”

  I swiped at the squashed bodies clinging to my garments. “I’m spending a month in the cleanser when we get back, but I’m okay.” I glanced over my shoulder to see other monitors doing the same for the boys, and saw how furious my husband looked. “Keep it cool for a few more minutes, handsome.”

  Despite being covered in worm-puree and stiff limbed from lack of circulation, they forced us to walk over and into the ziggurat. As I passed the stone threshold with a monitor pushing me from behind, I felt the same strange, pulling sensation that I’d sensed standing in the felling circle.

  Like it wants to suck me in.

  A cold chill shot up my arm when my hand brushed against the black stone, and a memory snapped into focus. I’d definitely touched this stuff before, under oddly similar circumstances.

  “Reever.” I watched him place a hand on the rock. “Feel it?”

  “Yes. It’s tul, but it’s... not alive.”

  The tul, a black crystal we’d encountered on Catopsa, had been like a mineral cancer, eating into and sucking the life out of the Pel, another variety of semi-sentient crystal that formed the entire asteroid.

  Whatever the Taercal had used to make their cathedrals had been tul or had been infected by it. Had it been active, we would have been in very bad shape. The black crystal had invaded the bodies of hundreds of slaves and one particularly brutal Hsktskt guard. It had crystallized within their bodies, insidiously eating into the nervous system, causing serious brain damage and, in the case of the guard, insanity.

  The dead crystal seemed inert, but the Taercal still may have contracted some form of the tul disease by long-term exposure to it. That would certainly go a long way to explaining why they acted like complete psychotics.

  The ziggurat’s interior rose around us, a huge cavernous area that stretched hundreds of feet above our heads. Sheer walls draped with hundreds of yards of dense, dull-colored fabric were illuminated by what appeared to be urns of burning sticks, set all around the base of the cloth hangings. The air smelled stagnant and acrid with old smoke, so thick that it made my eyes and lungs
burn.

  “Someone ought to open a window in here.”

  It looked like any church in the galaxy, with one exception-it didn’t feel like a church. Something else was going on inside these walls, and considering what they were made of, it had to be bad.

  There were no pews or chairs, as one might expect to find in a place of worship, only a series of steps leading up to an elevated platform. Another sculpture hung suspended above the platform, this one rendered in the same silvery alloy Ortsac had used to ornament his stunted wings.

  A forty-foot-tall, silver replica of Alunthri.

  “I take it that’s Sadda,” I said, nodding toward the huge feline icon.

  That got me a whack between my shoulder blades from my monitor. “You will not speak in Sadda’s abode.”

  There were other ways to communicate. Duncan, do you see Alunthri?

  Over there.

  My husband inclined his head toward a small chamber at the base of the north set of steps, from which the Chakacat emerged. Everyone except the monitors fell to their knees. This included Tadam Ortsac, who made sure to drop directly in front of Alunthri.

  I felt like bobbing a curtsy myself-they had dressed up the big alien kitty cat in a midlength, elaborately ornamented toga-robe which shimmered and glittered with every move it made. More ornaments, similar to the marks the monitors wore on their sleeves, encircled its wrists and ankles. Faceted oval gems studded the polished silver like dark stars.

  “Oh, great one,” the official crooned. “We have brought the sacrifices into your abode, as you directed. Find favor with our offerings, that we may spill their brains and glorify you in their blood.”

  “Bring them to me.” Alunthri, the gentlest and most unassuming creature I’d ever known, lifted both front paws and made a perfectly regal, come-hither gesture.

  The four of us were dragged over to the steps, and shoved down on our knees several yards from the Chakacat. I bowed my head, but lifted my eyes to meet Alunthri’s.

  My friend gave me a slow but deliberate wink.

  “These sacrifices are not worthy of me. They are alien, not of the people.” Alunthri’s whiskers twitched once as it drew back. “I refuse the offering.”