Jaross returned to her seat. “Yes.”
Jane moistened her dry lips. “Yes.”
She was prepared for it. Ryliuk gingerly stepped into her frontal lobe where her peripheral thoughts resided, but made no attempt to go further. His thoughts were not greedy or impatient but indicated he was simply happy to connect with another this way. It was more intimate than speaking aloud, but not as deep as the contact she shared with Ei’Brai.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked mentally. “You seem unsure, though it is hard for me to tell—your mind is very different from a sectilian or kuboderan mind. I will withdraw if that is your wish.”
“No. I—this is fine.”
“I will now connect with the Gis’dux. She is very receptive, but has never experienced anipraxia. We must be patient.” Out loud he said, “It is important to stay relaxed.”
Jaross blinked slowly. “Of course.”
And then they were there. Inside Jaross’s mind. And for the first time Jane knew what Ei’Brai had meant about how different the human mind was. Ryliuk was disciplined. He only shared thoughts that he wanted to, so Jane was less aware of his thought process.
Jaross’s thoughts were all there for them to see. She was unaware that she was sharing them or that she had any control over the process. They weren’t fragmented like human thoughts. And they didn’t zoom like Ei’Brai’s did. They were dense, orderly, and insatiably curious. Jaross contemplated every aspect of the connection, cataloging how it felt, how it worked, how it had already changed her perception of herself and others. She was analyzing it in an almost scientific way.
There was a round of greetings. Then Ryliuk showed Jaross some basic precepts. He was patient. He had clearly done this before. Jane wondered, so that he could hear, if he had been a teacher. He smiled and said that he had.
After that brief orientation he asked the Gis’dux to simply remain receptive and allow Jane to show them the things she wanted to. Jane concentrated on sharing the memory of the creation of the painting in the atrium.
When the memory had been transmitted, Jaross inhaled sharply. The connection broke as she returned to vocalized speech. “That was astounding! For a brief moment, I felt as though I was inhabiting her mind. I can feel her…” Jaross broke off, searching for words.
Jane finished the sentence for her, gently. “You can feel her mood, her outlook, her sense of self.”
Jaross’s face was transformed to bewilderment. She stood and placed a hand on her forehead. “I apologize. I didn’t anticipate this kind of emotion.”
“No need,” Ryliuk said in a neutral voice. “Your response is natural.” He stayed seated while Jaross paced the room. He sipped his beverage and tossed a food cube into his mouth. Jane did likewise, but watched Jaross worriedly. This was the first time she’d seen any kind of strong emotion displayed by a sectilian. Jaross looked agitated and uncomfortable.
Ryliuk sent her a thought. “This is normal for a first experience. She is feeling the gravitas of a moving moment. She is experiencing more empathy than she is accustomed to.” The undertone in his message urged patience.
Jane acknowledged his thought silently.
Jaross continued to stride back and forth for some time, her arms wrapped tightly around her upper body in a kind of self-hug. She stopped suddenly and turned to Jane, her voice strident, almost accusatory. “I feel as though I created that mural! But…I know that I did not.” She looked bewildered. “I keep reliving it as though it were my own memory…”
So it wasn’t like playing telephone, Jane thought. The message wasn’t diluted in the retelling. Jaross was experiencing it the same way Jane had.
Jane suddenly realized that she hadn’t noticed any forms of vicarious entertainment since she’d come to Atielle. No television or movies, no one reading, or even telling stories for pleasure. Sectilians weren’t accustomed to indirect experiences. This surely increased the impact of the memory for Jaross.
Such a cultural absence could have easily lead to a lack of social awareness or a sense of individual responsibility to contribute to the community, except that wasn’t the case. Everything Jane had seen showed that they were a mostly egalitarian society. They took care of everyone and everyone had an equal chance to thrive.
Some atellans were farmers, but the fruits of their labor were distributed to all according to need. There were electricians, plumbers, and mechanics who worked on demand throughout an enclave. Others taught, cooked, cleaned—all seemingly with a strong work ethic, all without monetary compensation.
The only division between the genders seemed to arise in childbearing, but even child rearing was a group activity. Jane had frequently noticed age-matched groups from toddlers through school ages playing together with adults of both genders supervising. It was a cooperative society—rare among modern humans, although on Earth anthropologists had theorized that preagricultural humans had lived more like this.
Ryliuk continued to be impassive. Jane followed his lead, watching Jaross surreptitiously. Jaross stopped pacing and leaned against a wall, facing away from them. Her head was bowed and Jane could just see her left hand working, her thumb rubbing over her forefinger in a repetitive motion. If Jaross had been human, Jane would have seen that as an unconsciously self-soothing movement indicating that Jaross was overwhelmed, but Jane couldn’t be sure if she could apply the same interpretation to a sectilian.
Abruptly, Jaross turned. “I want to know more about her. I want to see more of her memories.”
Jane looked to Ryliuk questioningly. It seemed strange to rely on his expertise when she barely knew him, but she was the outsider here and had no choice. “Is that a good idea, so soon?”
Ryliuk didn’t answer out loud, but connected the three of them anipraxically. Now Jane could see that Jaross’s thoughts had calmed and all that remained of the previous turmoil was intense curiosity.
Jane showed them many moments from Rageth’s life. The day she assumed command of the Speroancora and met Ei’Brai for the first time. The day she gave birth to her oldest child. The day she passed all of the aptitude tests that eventually allowed her to join a ship community.
Ryliuk passively observed every memory without reacting. Jaross’s reactions were muted. She’d figured out that Jane was hesitant to show her more because of the intensity of her initial reaction and reined in her responses.
Jaross clumsily passed a thought to Jane—loudly, intrusively, breaking Jane’s concentration. “You are showing us moments that are positive in nature only. Let us see a more balanced experience of her life.”
Jane inhaled deeply and showed them the day the Swarm destroyed the colony world that Rageth had called home for many years while raising her children. She showed them a moment from the day Rageth learned her closest confidant and lover had died. And then, finally, Jane showed them Rageth’s final days on the Speroancora.
That memory was agonizing to experience. When it was done, Jane sat silently and let her mind go blank. She bowed her head, sniffing back tears and surreptitiously swiping at her eyes. She couldn’t prevent that memory from affecting her. She felt the great loss of Rageth, even though she’d never truly known her.
After a long moment, Jane sent them a question. “Do you know who did this to your people, who programmed the plague into the squillae?”
Both Ryliuk and Jaross answered swiftly and with vehemence. “No.”
That satisfied Jane. Jaross in particular would have difficulty lying right now. She continued. “Do you think there is anyone on either world who does know?”
With a subtle movement of his hand, Ryliuk deferred to Jaross.
“No,” she said. “It is my understanding that in the time after, before the communication networks fell, the perpetrator was unknown. Since then, it’s doubtful that anything new has come to light.”
Jane pressed. “There’s no particular enemy who was suspected?”
Jaross’s face broke into an almost human simulacrum o
f incredulity. “What enemy? The Sectilius are cooperative. The only enemies we face are those who are unwilling to communicate: the Swarm. The Swarm has never used technology to our knowledge. So it seems unlikely that they wrought the destruction of our culture.”
Jane nodded. This fit with what she knew.
Jaross’s face darkened. “Do you know who did it?”
Jane leaned back in surprise. “No!”
Ryliuk raised a hand. “Allow me to assure both of you that I detect no elements of deception. Indeed, you are both so new to anipraxic communication it would be exceedingly difficult for either of you to even attempt a lie under these conditions. Rest assured, we are all speaking frankly here.”
Jane nodded. She felt the truth of that. She eyed the two of them thoughtfully. “There is just one more thing I really want to know, Gistraedor Dux Jaross Rageth Hator. It is my main reason for coming to Sectilius.”
Jaross swept her loosening braid off her shoulder and laid her hands open on the table in front of her, a gesture that Jane thought probably meant something like “I am an open book.”
Jane let out a shaky breath, almost afraid of the answer she would receive. “I have brought this ship back…to return it.”
Both Jaross and Ryliuk indicated surprise. That was the same reaction Jane had gotten from Sten.
Ryliuk asked, “You do not want the ship? Is it still contaminated?”
Jane held out a hand. “No, that’s not it. The ship is free of the plague. It’s hard to explain.” Jane paused. She wasn’t sure what she was trying to say.
Ryliuk said, “This is a cultural construct you are wanting to express. Merely tell us how it would be on your world.”
Jane smiled. “On my world, we would want the ship back. It is a very large, very valuable commodity. Humans would wish to reclaim it.”
Jaross’s delicate brow furrowed. “But who would reclaim it here?”
Jane calmly met Jaross’s gaze. “I thought you would, Gis’dux. I understand there is no centralized governmental entity now that unifies the two worlds, but you are Quasador Dux Rageth Elia Hator’s closest living relative, aren’t you? You lead this compound. Or have I misunderstood?”
“You are correct that I am her closest living relative. She was my father’s mother. I am the figurehead here, but this community has no use for a spacefaring vehicle. It could be cannibalized and all of its components used, but what of the kuboderan? We are landlocked. We have no access to the ocean here. I have no way of knowing if he could survive in Atielle’s oceans. Besides, it is distasteful to dismantle something that is functional and useful. To add to that, it could worsen conflicts with other communities if the imbalance in technology between us fell heavily to our side. That is not our way. We already have difficulty with Gis’dux Sten because of the lack of parity between our communities. It creates friction.”
There were echoes of these same sentiments in Ryliuk’s mind.
Jane felt lighter. She suppressed a smile of relief, her mind racing with feelings of happiness that she hadn’t expected. She didn’t actually want to give up the Speroancora or Ei’Brai, and the depth of her relief surprised her.
“What I want, what every sectilian wants, is to see Sectilius return to her former level of technology and prosperity. It will take time to achieve this. Our primary obstacle is population. We are consumed now with survival and growth. We retain the knowledge but the infrastructure is gone. Until we can rebuild that, we are, as you can plainly see, arrested in a transitional phase of unknown duration. A ship will not change that. It is no longer of value to us. It is yours now, Quasador Dux Jane Augusta Holloway.”
22
Ajaya called after him, “Alan! What on Earth are you doing?”
He yelled over his shoulder, “I’m going to see if this thing is even repairable before we go to any more trouble.”
All the others were scrambling out of the vehicle. The atellans hung back, but Ron and Ajaya chased after him.
Ron stepped in front of him and held up his hands. “Come on, man. I know this is upsetting news, but you don’t need to go off half-cocked and get yourself killed.”
Alan sent Ron a dirty look and didn’t stop moving. He just dodged around him. Ron threw up his hands.
Alan sauntered a few steps down the hill at an angle while rolling up his sleeves. His boots bit into the hard-packed soil just enough to give him purchase. The perpetually saturated ground was baking into clay in this heat. In places it had dried to a crumbly, fine powder and gave way under him, kicking up plumes of dust as he scrambled to get his footing.
He picked his way carefully, trying to avoid these softer patches. His cybernetic leg didn’t do too bad. It wasn’t quite the same, and he was more awkward than he used to be, but it was starting to feel more natural.
Ajaya called out, “Alan, stop being silly and come back here. We’ll figure this out!”
Alan’s lips tightened. He turned to face her, squinting against the sun hovering behind her. “Silly? I’ll tell you what’s silly. Silly is coming all the way out here, wasting an entire day, but not being prepared for what we would find. Silly is traveling to an alien planet, but not speaking the language fluently. Silly—” He paused for a moment to collect himself, because his voice was getting really loud and spit was flying everywhere. He scrunched up his face and then relaxed it. “Silly is letting Jane go off by herself when one of us should have gone with her. This is not silly. This is gathering information. It’s what I do, dammit.”
With that, he felt satisfied that he’d delivered a rather pretty speech before tromping off to his impending half-assed annihilation. Maybe he’d be remembered for something. He turned and continued skittering down the hill.
Ajaya’s voice carried after him. “Okay. We like you, Alan. Please don’t let them trample you. Jane would never forgive us.”
He was facing away so he let himself smile grimly.
The behemoths weren’t active at the moment. They all seemed to be lounging either in the mud pits or in the cool, moist shadows of the hills to pass the hottest part of the day. He would guess that, like a lot of animals in hot climates, these would be pretty lethargic during midday heat like this and more active at first light and at dusk. He might be able to just walk among them and straight up to the engine. He decided to gamble everything on that assumption and hope that he wasn’t about to become a pancake.
Alan glanced over his shoulder. Ron and Ajaya stood at the top of the hill, hands clasped, watching him descend into the valley, the picture of a loving couple. Well, aren’t they just peachy. He snarled to himself a little bit and kept walking.
It had been dark for days while Atielle was in Sectilia’s shadow. It had rained during that entire period—but of course it would be a hot, sunny day when he took off on a hike. And the sun in this system ran a bit hotter.
It had been so long since he’d enjoyed sun on his skin, and though it felt good at first, he soon felt his skin getting dry and tight. He’d have a burn if he survived, and probably nothing else to show for his stupidity. Just as well. He was too pasty these days.
It did feel good to be outdoors. He chuckled to himself. He’d traversed thousands of light-years inside an alien spaceship and now he was hiking on an alien moon. That was pretty fucking awesome.
In fact, he took a moment to gaze up at the sky. The first clear day since they’d arrived on Atielle afforded him the opportunity to see the other half of Sectilius—the planet Sectilia dominated the sky like an impressionist painting looming overhead. He could even see one of the other moons, a tiny white ball, off to one side. That wasn’t a sight you got to see every day.
His cyber foot suddenly sank several inches, and he flailed to keep himself on his feet, but failed and slid to his ass. He put his hand out to push himself back up and found himself sliding again as the dirt gave way. He peered more closely at the ground under and around him. There was a cluster of holes carved into the side of the hill—he’d
been collapsing their openings. As he looked, a weaselly face stuck out of one of the holes to whistle a shrill note at him then darted back inside. He blinked in surprise. Then another one did it. And another. He felt like he was being scolded for messing up their front doors. “All right. All right,” he muttered. “I get the idea. I’m going.”
He slowed his descent as he got near the bottom, choosing his footing carefully. It would be a bad idea to make a bunch of noise. When he hit the valley floor, he practically tiptoed to stand behind a large boulder and take in his surroundings.
So far none of the suesupus had moved appreciably. He was sure they knew he was there. He’d seen some eyeballs roll in his direction, but they didn’t seem to care—confirming his hypothesis that they’d ignore him. They just swished their tails like lazy dogs swatting at midges that Alan couldn’t see.
Now he needed to decide how to get to the engine. The shortest distance between two points is a straight line, but there were suesupus scattered everywhere. Dammit. He should have mapped out a route when he’d stood up at the top instead of shooting off his mouth.
His heart pounded. There was a tickle in his throat from the dust he’d stirred up on the way down. He wanted to cough something terrible, but he couldn’t afford to make any loud noises. He knew it would pass. He bent at the waist and breathed over that devilish granule burning in his airway, swallowing saliva thick from thirst and clearing his throat with the tiniest of ahems possible, eyes watering streams down his face.
After a while it eased. He didn’t look up to the ridgeline. They were probably up there thinking he was having a freaking heart attack. He shot his thumb up in the air so they’d know he was okay and edged around the side of his boulder.
Damn those things were big.
He thought for a minute about what animal they resembled most now that he could see them up close. Size-wise and in coloration they were nearly elephantine. No trunk, though. No horns or tusks either. That made them look a bit friendlier. They didn’t have the elongated head of a hippo, so Alan settled on really big hornless rhinos.
Confluence 2: Remanence Page 13
