by K R Sanford
The Chief stepped behind Marco.
“Let's put some lights on,” he said. “I'll get the lamp on the fireplace.” The Chief held his crystal light to his feet. He made his way over to the fireplace.
Marco walked into the Hall after the Chief. A light erupted in his face. A deafening sound exploded in unison, “Surprise!”
Lady Lucia stepped from the wall holding Shanna’s hand. Shanna darted from Lucia and threw her arms around Marco's waist. Marco looked down at his daughter beaming up at him. Her smile and warm face moved him speechless. King Devin and Queen Elsinor were watching with kind interest.
Governor Grantham and Yeoman Clorissa held hands. They lifted a toast to their Captain.
Marco was home.
Chief Spierd was grinning from ear to ear. Marco pointed his finger at the Chief and grinned.
Tildanfin and Saralil cut the cake. The Vallians drank generous amounts of ale. The warriors mingled throughout the Great Hall swapping stories of brave adventures. William the Homalet sat in his favorite corner. He was detecting the world through the mysterious powers of his senses.
“I will be close at hand, Captain,” cried William, “Where you can see me best.”
“And, you can bet I'll be watching, William,” replied Marco. “How have you been?”
The blind Homalet listened. “Quite well, thank you,” he said. “And you? It seems you have injured your leg. Did I detect crutches pressing on the floor? It's not serious, I hope? Come sit, you must rest that leg.” William motioned to a table in the center of the hall.
Marco hobbled to the table. William joined. William's reminder started the bone to throb. He took a seat and sighed in relief.
Tildanfin stepped forward with a pitcher of ale. “Are you all right, Captain?” he asked setting the pitcher on the table.
Marco shook his head. “I'll be okay if I can stay off this leg a few more days,” he replied. Taking the Vallian ale with one long swig, he set the mug on the table. He lifted himself up in his chair and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
The sound hi-ho assured his place in the center of the Hall. The Warriors gathered. They listened to the stories of treachery abated and their enemy put down. The Vallian ale was drunk and more stories told of the starship’s adventures. As the evening wore on the musicians tuned up their instruments. They began to play of celebration. They sang and danced. They laughed for hours. Then, as hours grew late, the young folk went off to their beds. Marco pulled up a chair in front of the fireplace to watch the flames die and the embers burn away. Lady Lucia, William, Chief Spierd, Tildanfin, Clorissa and Grantham all stayed. Devin and Gonquin stepped forward. Devin offered an invitation to Marco.
“Captain, we would like you to join us tomorrow morning at the site of the Boyers' house. This will be a time of memorial and the start, we hope, of healing for our dear friends. This will help the closure in the deaths of Shanna's parents.
My invitation is twofold because I would also like to discuss our experience in the wormhole. I have misconceptions that I was hoping you might settle.” King Devin wrapped a scarf around his neck and said, “I must say, good evening, Captain. I will see you at the ninth hour. It is late and I must take Elsinor home.” Devin lifted his hand and bid him farewell. He collected Elsinor and Lucia, and they left the Great Hall.
“It is getting late, indeed, good evening,” said Balrug then turned and departed.
The Great Hall emptied. Marco reached for his crutches and excused himself. He made his way to a small room where he laid down on the bed, put his head on the pillow, closed his eyes and went to sleep.
C H A P T E R 16
________________________________________
Dust in the Sun
It was on the hilltop ruins of Commander Robert and Janna Boyer that a memorial was about to take place.
The Vallian villagers arrived early. They numbered seven hundred.
A line of Marillians joined the assembly.
Grantham and Clorissa accompanied Marco and Shanna. They gathered with the King and the Queen on the grassy hilltop. There they waited for the memorial to begin.
At last, a line of Amedan citizens glided over the treetops. Their number was twelve. They positioned themselves in a semicircle formation ten feet above the ruins.
It was nine o'clock. Tildanfin sat up. He shaped his beard and looked to Saralil. Saralil gave him a once over and smiled. Tildanfin, with a stern expression, stood to his feet. He climbed a small platform. He raised his hands and the assembly fell quiet.
“Thank you,” he announced. “Thank you for coming to this somber occasion. It was a few short weeks ago. Nine of our own got laid to rest.” Tildanfin paused as the sound of weeping spilled over the assembly. He looked to the horizon and found strength in the morning sun. He continued.
“Today we gather to remember Robert and Janna Boyer. Robert and Janna were our friends. We had grown to love these fine folk. We called them our own. They had become part of our community. We are going to miss them. We will miss them in our village. We will miss them in our homes. Most of all we will miss their souls.
Some of you have brought flowers. Others have brought suggestions as what to do with these ruins. And still others have offered help to rebuild this site for the time when the survivor is able to take a home of her own. Those who have expressed concerns about Shanna's welfare, we thank you. Her father is here with us today. I am confident he will find the right place for her. In the meantime, Shanna stays with us. Now, let the musicians come and take us to a better place.”
Tildanfin stepped from the platform. He returned to Saralil who was consoling Shanna.
The sound of ceremonial drums began a slow chant. The procession formed with the ancient instruments. Hand-carved horns joined in. They played a slow song with a melody obscured. The music was eerie and minor keyed. The music played steady as they marched around the ruins.
The enemy attack did not stifle the spirit of the Vallian warriors. Hundreds joined in the somber march. The Marillians mingled with the Vallians. They marched in the funeral of their new found allies. Around the site of the burned out home they marched. It was the only human home on the planet. It was the only home torpedoed by humans, an attack orchestrated by the humans.
The facts were there, and they did not add up. There were more than charred ruins and the stench of sulfur lingering on that site. Still, the marchers tramped out the death march round the incinerated house.
All the while, the Amedan citizens hovered over the target of the unprovoked attack.
In the morning light, the sight was a surreal image. Lush green life on a charred hilltop somehow called out to the souls of the departed.
Captain Miller stepped out from the marchers. He looked to where King Devin was standing at what might have been the front door to the house. He too was suspicious. Devin stared at the twelve Amedan's hovering in a semicircle formation.
William the Homalet stepped beside the Captain. “This is the first time I have been up here,” said William. His nose twitched from the bitter scent in the air.
“Hello, William,” replied Marco. “How are you this morning?”
“I’m fine, thank you,” said William. “Is that leg giving you trouble?”
Captain Miller leaned on his crutch. “I'll be all right if I can keep my weight off the bone,” he replied.
“Come with me, Marco,” said William. “There is a tree to our left that has only a slight singe.” William touched his finger to the tip of his nose. “We will sit there and ponder the puzzle that plays out today.”
William turned to an old carob tree and followed his nose. The sound of wild grass crunched under his feet. He felt the firm ground over the roots of the wide spreading branches. The sightless Homalet walked straight to the raised trunk of the old tree. He sat on its largest root.
Marco followed. He made his way through the grass and moist leaves. He too sat on top of a large root. He leaned back against the trun
k. He set his walking crutch to one side and closed his eyes.
The drumbeats of the funeral march reminded him of the underground caverns. The same slow footsteps were pounding out the funeral march. It seemed like only yesterday he made the run to the Lord Legion's Court.
His reverie got interrupted by the smell of the burned house. But, there was something else, something very different in the air on that hill. He could not make out what it was. It was not the sulfur or the residue from Bradley's torpedo. The air had the smell of sickness, the kind from the wars with no medical aid to help the wounded.
Marco became anxious. He looked at William. William could isolate the smell in an instant but he already knew what it was. He knew that death was lingering but its name escaped him. He would remember. It would come to him he thought.
Marco began to meditate. His eyes closed once more as he relaxed his body against the trunk of the old tree. He concentrated on a steady even breath. The Boyers' were biologists. They could have been conducting experiments on this site, he thought.
Marco's eyes sprang open. The Amedans broke formation. They were engaging with the Vallians and Marillians. Several hovered over the ruins as if searching for pieces to a puzzle.
Four Amedan citizens grouped together then moved toward the carob tree. They moved under the branches and stopped at eye level a few feet away.
One of the Amedans spoke. “Hello, Captain Miller. I am Lao. It is an honor to finally meet you.” His voice vibrated a hollow tone, as if spoken from a large glass bell.
“What can I do for you, Lao?” said Marco. Marco cocked his head to one side to watch the Amedans brilliant blue bolts race with excitement.
“If you will permit me,” said Lao, “I would like to introduce my fellows. Here on my left is Eag; she is for our future. Os is next to Eag and she is for our physical needs. Then to my right is Ma; he is for telepathy, he processes our thoughts in the universal way.”
“I am pleased to meet you all,” said Marco. He marveled at the first-hand glimpse of how Amedan society functions. He continued. “I’m at a loss how I can be of help to your people. William and I couldn't help notice your search for something in the ruins. Are you looking for anything specific? Can we be of help?”
“We are seeking evidence that we know is here,” replied Lao. “We have been looking for weeks but have not yet found what we need.”
Marco pulled his hair away from his face and tucked it behind his ear. “This evidence you seek,” inquired Marco. “Are you going to tell us what you intend to do once you find what you are looking for?”
“Our purpose has always been singular, Captain Miller,” replied Lao. “Our people intervene when civilizations are contrary to the solitary code. To this, we have dedicated our foremost debates.”
Marco was hesitant to speak. He pulled himself up and sat forward on the root of the carob. He put his hands on his knees and said, “It sounds like you know a lot more about what's going on here than I do. I can only offer you the best of luck. If there is anything I can do, I am at your disposal.”
“Yes, Captain,” replied Lao. “Thank you, you are very gracious. We have come to ask you to meet with us at the Shrine in one of your hours. Bring with you who you trust and we will see about the residue from your last visit. Until then, goodbye and thank you.”
Lao drew back and the four glided out from beneath the old carob tree. They flew to the treetops where the delegation of Amedans regrouped. In perfect line formation they disappeared from site.
“What do you make of that, William?” said Marco.
“I’m not quite sure,” replied William. “We should discuss this with the others.”
Marco and William made their way from under the carob. As they walked back to the memorial the music changed upbeat. The melody signaled a better tomorrow.
Marco and William did not lose any time. They chose a small party from the celebration. They hurried to the shuttlecraft. A moment later the hatch door closed and the shuttle drifted up above the hilltop. A trail of white vapor streaked toward Shrine Mountain. They landed beside the rotunda of the Shrine.
Inside the rotunda, twelve Amedans suspended themselves above the navigation table. The table remained cold and lifeless. The rotunda was beginning to feel the rising sun. Rays of the morning sun beamed through the east portal. Particles of dust sparkled in the warm light.
Marco maneuvered his shuttlecraft in position over the stone steps. The torches flickered as the shuttle party entered the rotunda.
Marco was the last to mount the steps. He stood wide-eyed at the exactness of the Amedan citizens. They held their positions steady around the polished black table.
Marco took the last remaining seat. King Devin was sitting at his right. Gonquin was at his left. Gonquin's white hair draped off the back of his shoulders. His gold headband glistened from the light of the east portal.
Governor Grantham and Clorissa sat on the far side of the table. A Marillian official sat to their right. His manner was pleasant. He wore a simple gray tunic with an official red sash across his chest. Balrug and Tildanfin sat next to the Marillian official. Lady Lucia, William the Homalet and Queen Elsinor also sat on the on the far side.
Marco sat among the fine dressed warriors in full regalia. He sat up straight. He fixed his Captain's coat flat over his chest and laced his hands on the table before him.
Balrug stood to his feet. He tapped his staff on the stone floor. The sound echoed in the dome overhead. The wind blew through the rotunda. An Amedan glided to the center of the table. Balrug seated himself and pulled his pipe from his pocket.
“I am Lao,” said the Amedan. “There is business to attend with this sacred table. It remains dark and cold. What has taken place of late must get revealed. Fear has frozen this message in the universe.”
Marco sat in the quiet of the rotunda. A tiny tear rolled to the corner of his eye. He blinked then struggled to his feet. He faltered. He placed his hands on the table to steady himself. His leg was throbbing with pain. Eight days had passed since the violence in the wormhole threw him against his console. The bone sheered clean and Lady Lucia's repair was holding.
“Tell us what you saw, Captain,” said Lao. Lao's sphere glowed bright white as he spoke.
Marco looked away. “Yes,” he replied. “First, I saw a cloud in the dome change to a fist. It slammed on the table and the stars appeared.
Earth surged in brightness. Then from Earth a convoy of ships headed for the Middle Corridor.
Several ships broke away from the main convoy and were coming to the Corsi Star System. While they approached, the ships changed into what looked like deformed insects. When I looked closer, I saw faces. The faces were the people here today. One face in particular got deformed. It struck me hard because the face was my own.
When I looked at the bodies of the insects, they were changing like a reverse metamorphosis. I felt a pulling at my throat. Panic ran through me. That's when I turned away from the table and the Chief helped me out of the rotunda.”
“At last, Captain, you accepted the Chief’s help,” said Lao. His words ran around the rotunda and echoed off the dome. His pitch lowered into the sound of a metallic well. “Here lies the answer to the Emperor's riddle:
What is everyone’s,
and what is no one’s
and has the power to generate a universe?
This will be the challenge of the Corsi Star System.”
Tildanfin stood to his feet. “What does this mean?” He continued, “Insects mutating their bodies and taking our heads? I am a simple innkeeper, if someone could explain the Captain's vision. How does this challenge affect our planet?”
Murmurings broke out around the table in agreement with Tildanfin. Grantham and King Devin pleaded for an explanation.
Grantham towered over the hosts in the rotunda. “There is something about this mystery we need your help with, Lao,” said Grantham. “Would you agree now is the time to show us what y
ou know?”
King Devin stood and exclaimed. “My people do not frighten, Lao,” His fine royal cape trailed loose over his shoulders. He stood confident and his manner cool. “I speak for all my people,” he continued. “If there is a life-threatening condition, now is the time to speak.”
“Please, please,” said Lao. He elevated himself to the height of the ones standing. “Take your seats, please.”
The men, Vallians and Marillians took their seats.
“Thank you,” said Lao. “Forgive me for my challenge. It is important to have complete agreement between our peoples. Our investigations have revealed disturbing evidence.
The Boyers' were not at fault for bringing a madman's work to this planet. They sacrificed themselves to protect the Corsi Star System. Their refusal to turn over the proteinomic research cost them their lives. This research would enslave the regions in the Middle Corridor. Their research was only one part of a plan to produce a bomb. Once detonated this bomb would send particulates through space in capsules of dust. As the contaminated dust enters atmosphere, oxygenated live tissue would become infected. This would grow mutinous drones of mammals and insects alike.”
Marco pushed himself back in his chair. He looked out the east portal. He watched the fine particles of dust sparkle in the rays of sunlight.
“How much time do you estimate before the convoy reaches the target area?” he asked.
“That would be a question for the Sea of Glass,” said Lao.
“How can we stop this bombing?” asked King Devin.
“Another question,” replied Lao. Lao backed away from the center of the table. He returned to his position between Grantham and Clorissa.
Balrug stood to his feet. He put his pipe back in his pocket, tapped his walking staff twice on the stone floor and spoke. “If the deliberations are at an end,” he paused. No one spoke.
