The Alien Element

by M. G. Herron

  “Really?” Amon said, as brightly as he could manage. “Does it isolate the cube and the carbonado completely from electrical interference? How does it work exactly?”

  Lucas glared at him, but couldn’t help the glow of pride that parted his lips. “If you must know, it’s a non-conductive gel suspension. Any charge that comes into contact with the cube is moved away and around the cube by the gel and the electrical currents running from these nodes set into the sides.” He pointed to two small metal discs and the lines that connected them.

  “Impressive,” Amon said, and was surprised to find he meant it. He had always known that Lucas had a certain facility running the operations of the company. He also knew he had an engineering background. But seeing something he built came as a bit of a shock. Lucas had never shown an interest in physical engineering, being too busy managing the rapid growth of the company to devote the time.

  Without another word, Lucas stepped back up to the holodeck. He keyed a new set of coordinates into it, then exchanged a whispered word with the square-jawed mercenary leader. When the man nodded affirmation, Lucas turned, crossed the room, and began to walk up the ramp when the sphere of rings began to spin.

  “I said—” Lucas turned back to the man, his face angry. But Amon had been watching the man, and he hadn’t touched the controls. Lucas must have realized it, too, because he began backing away down the ramp.

  “Oh God,” Reuben said.

  “What in the hell?” Wes gasped.

  Amon said nothing, but his eyes widened, darting between Lucas’s shocked face, the holodeck, and the sphere of rings. They spun so fast they became a shapeless blur. Instead of the white ball of energy that normally gathered in the center of the sphere, a dark rift appeared in the air and slowly widened. Through it, Amon saw a dark ripple fill the rift. Through the ripple, as if it was a reflection on dark water, Amon thought he could make out a star-filled night and the tops of the trees.

  “How…?” Amon said. “It can’t be—”

  Lucas sprinted to the holodeck and pressed the abort key. Amon would have gone to help him, but the mercenaries still stood over him, and despite the unusual rift, they held their ground, although now their rifles were pointed at the rift instead of at Amon. This was his chance…

  Before he could make a move, the rift stopped widening, and a metal orb passed through, hovering by its own power in the air. Amon had seen this once before, so his body filled with a cold dread even before he had arrived.

  A large man stepped into the lab behind the orb, dressed head-to-foot in a reflective helmet and a suit of seamless black so dark it seemed to swallow the fluorescent lights in the Translocator lab.

  And this time, Amon didn’t think it was a hologram.

  22

  Searching for the Mark

  Rakulo scrabbled in the leaves, clawing at the earth as his mouth worked for air. After a moment, his breath came rushing back, choking him with its sudden return. The sphere-shaped demon, buzzing like a rattlesnake, darted off toward another target. Rakulo coughed, trying to ignore the hollow ringing in his left ear, and managed two shallow gasps before someone grabbed his arm and yanked him roughly to his feet.

  “Raid!” Quen bellowed in his deep baritone.

  Rakulo stumbled forward, pushing the startled Yeli in front of him. She fell in beside him and began to run. Their pace picked up until the trees were rushing by them. The others all seemed to be moving now, some ahead and some behind in a ragged line.

  A man with a black-painted face stepped out from behind a tree and swung a club at Quen. He ducked and stepped inside the man’s guard from the side, dealing two vicious jabs to his ribs. While he was distracted, Yeli swept a leg out and tripped the attacker. Rakulo grabbed his club and dealt a solid blow to the man’s head. His body went limp.

  Then they were running again, darting between bushes and jumping over the thick roots of the big trees in this part of the forest.

  Rakulo shouted ahead to Quen. “Where are Citlali and Thevanah? Did they get them?”

  “Not sure. They were still in the trees last I saw!”

  Rakulo gritted his teeth. That was bad. They were stranded up there.

  A spear cut the air in front of his face and thudded as it sank into the soft bark of a tree to his right, its shaft vibrating with the impact. Someone howled, and shoved Rakulo down. Quen and Yeli jumped on top of Rakulo’s assailant, hauling the man off—and this time Rakulo recognized him through the face paint. One of Maatiaak’s men, an old farmer with long gray hair tied back in a braid who went by the name of Uli.

  Rakulo jerked the spear out of the tree and stepped up to the man.

  He stared back at Rakulo with an expression of outright disgust and then spat on the ground.

  Rakulo thought about taking the spear tip and jabbing it in his stomach and leaving Uli to bleed out while he tried to hold his guts in. But Rakulo couldn’t do it. Instead, he dragged the sharpened stone tip along the man’s chest and down his cheeks, leaving long red gashes. Uli hissed, thrashed while Quen and Yeli held him.

  “I won’t kill you,” Rakulo said, “but I will mark you as a traitor. What kind of man sneaks up and tries to stab his own kin?”

  “You’re going to get us all killed with your foolishness!”

  Rakulo flipped the spear around and jabbed him in the gut with the blunt end. Uli doubled over, and Yeli and Quen released him. He scrabbled up, then backed away.

  “Let him go,” Rakulo said. “Let’s move.”

  As they turned away, he pulled Quen down and whispered in his ear. “Lead the way back to the caves. Maatiaak’s men will follow you. I’m going back for Citlali and Thevanah.”

  Quen led the others away. As their footsteps faded, Rakulo found a low branch and climbed up quickly, hiding around the trunk. A few more of Maatiaak’s men came running from the direction of the large trees up which Citlali and Thevanah had climbed, in pursuit of Quen and the others. When their footsteps faded, Rakulo cocked his head and listened with his good ear for the telltale buzzing sound that would give away the position of Xucha’s demon.

  He finally located it and worked his way down the tree with the spear gripped uncomfortably in his teeth. Staying low, he padded back toward the location where Citlali and Thevanah had ascended. Rakulo scanned the canopy for Citlali or Thevanah, but didn’t spot them. Good. If they were smart they would stay well out of sight.

  Two orb-shaped demons circled slowly around the tree trunk, at a height of three houses stacked on top of each other. They hovered and circled well over his head, but apparently they couldn’t go any higher. He looked down and saw the leaves shift beneath the path in which the spheres circled.

  That’s interesting, he thought, like something in the demons leashed them to the ground. Maybe they couldn’t get higher because they were limited by how far they could push off the ground, like how Rakulo knew he could only jump so high. Xucha himself did not seem to be here. He’d just sent his demons to help Maatiaak and his men surprise Rakulo’s warriors. Rakulo didn’t think for a minute that the dark god wasn’t watching.

  Quietly, Rakulo found another tree, this one medium sized, with low branches. He worked his way up the trunk until he was just above the level the demons now hovered.

  From his vantage point, he watched as the demons stopped. What were they doing now? A mouth spiraled open in each of their hulls, and red fans of light crept out and swept toward the tree. In a moment, smoke began to curl up from where the light hit the wood on either side of the tree.

  A realization struck Rakulo like a blow. So that’s how they cut down the trees!

  But Citlali and Thevanah were still up there. He couldn’t let the demons take down this ancient tree if it might result in danger to his warriors. Plus, he still thought this tree might be their ticket over the walls.

  “You!” Rakulo shouted. The shaft of the spear slipped in his sweaty palms. He adjusted his grip. What if they came this way?

&n
bsp; The orbs spun in place, the red fans of light snapping back into their circular mouths. They seemed to watch the woods with their featureless smooth faces.

  He had suspected this from his previous encounters with the demons that they were not all-knowing or all-seeing, but it was a relief to have it confirmed. Like him, they navigated the world with their senses, whatever that meant for them. Rakulo pushed himself close to the tree in which he now hid, up under the shade of a thick leafy branch so they couldn’t spy him. He brought the spear up, vertically, holding it out in front of him.

  He’d have one chance. Better make it count.

  “Over here!” he shouted again. The humming sound increased in one ear. It was disconcerting not to be able to rely on his left ear, but Rakulo closed his eyes and relied on the hearing of his good right ear as the demons approached.

  The first one came around on his left side and buzzed right underneath him, inches below the branch on which he stood. Too late to get that one. Patience. The other was coming around…

  Now!

  Rakulo stepped off the branch and let himself fall through the air as if he were standing. The soles of his feet slipped on the hull of the second demon, but he bore down, using his toes like grips to hold the thing between his feet. He thrust the spear down hard. The stone tip glanced off the demon’s hull, leaving a slight dent and a long scratch.

  The sphere began to tilt left. Something was holding it up, holding them both up in the air—pushing off the ground with some kind of invisible force. Rakulo brought the spear up and aimed at the dent one more time. This blow put the spearhead through the hull and found its home with a satisfying crunch and crackle in the middle of the demon. A bright spark shot up out of the crack, searing the skin near his knee. Rakulo jerked his face away. And then the force holding up the demon up suddenly gave way.

  Rakulo fell. The spear slipped from his hands. He windmilled his arms and let his knees buckle beneath him as he hit the soft leaf-covered forest floor. He tumbled away from the trunk of the tree.

  Rakulo rolled, sprang up quick, and looked around. The spear was lost among the leaves. But the buzzing sound remained. Rakulo ducked as the other demon darted at his head. It missed by a hair’s breadth. He hit the leaves and felt something long and hard beneath his hands. The spear! The demon swung around and came back, and this time Rakulo got the spear up in time to deflect its blow. The spear snapped in his hands. Rakulo staggered. And the demon wobbled and slammed into a nearby tree.

  Rakulo pitched down the broken spear and then he was running flat out, open hands pumping at his sides, legs weaving between tree trunks. He dared to glance back once and saw the orb following his meandering path, a red light sweeping ahead of it.

  Rakulo ran faster. He’d seen what these demons could do. At least he bought Citlali and Thevanah some time to get down. Hopefully Xucha would stay away. Hopefully Maatiaak’s men had all followed Quen and the others. That was a lot to hope for, but he had to focus to get himself out of harm’s way now.

  He abandoned his weaving between the trees and chose the straightest path. Rakulo was like the wind. He’d never run so fast in his life. And he slowly gained a lead on the remaining demon, which seemed injured after being struck with the spear.

  When the ground beneath the leafy floor grew more firm, Rakulo knew he was getting close to the limestone outcropping. He slowed and placed his feet carefully so as not to twist his ankles.

  A group of men was crowded at the mouth of the cave. Rakulo whistled, a shrill sound, and suddenly the crowd was pushed apart as Quen and Yeli shoved through Maatiaak and his men. Rakulo barreled through the gap, the demon hot on his heels.

  Maatiaak yelled and shoved, pushing the others to get himself out of harm’s way like the coward he was.

  Rakulo skidded and came to a stop inside the cave, next to one of the canoes he’d had Quen retrieve earlier that day. Rakulo picked up a canoe paddle and turned again.

  The speeding sphere barreled toward the cave. Tilted down, the fan of red light burned a path through the leaf-covered floor, exposing the pockmarked limestone beneath. Its path was unsteady, wobbling. Rakulo squared his feet and waited for it to come close enough. He steadied his aim…

  Maatiaak and his men scattered, vanishing into the woods as they retreated. The demon got confused, turned toward their fleeing figures, spinning and burning everything its red light touched. One of the men screamed as the red fan swept across his calf, leaving a long scorch mark. Someone came back for him and it wasn’t Maatiaak.

  Rakulo turned toward his own warriors, tense and gathered around him at the mouth of the cave. He held the paddle, waiting for the right moment. Timing was imperative.

  When the demon had managed to chase away Maatiaak and his men, it seemed to realize that these men were not Rakulo, not the one it was after. It spun, searching for its mark, for the man who had killed its comrade.

  As it was searching, Rakulo stepped lightly through the pockmarked limestone floor he knew so well, snuck up behind the demon, and struck it heavily with the wooden paddle once, twice, until it fell to the stone. It struggled to rise, leaves blowing away from the stone beneath it. Rakulo struck it again, and it went still.

  Pulling his obsidian knife from his tunic, Rakulo stabbed a rough gash in the demon’s carapace and shoved the thin end of the paddle in there, breaking the parts inside with a satisfying crunch.

  His warriors slowly gathered around him. Citlali and Thevanah had still not made it back, but the others were here. They were scraped and scratched, tired and disheveled. Yeli had a black eye, which she tried to hide by staring at her feet. Rakulo reached out and lifted her chin gently with his fingers. She smiled shyly.

  “I’m proud of you,” Rakulo said. “But the fight is not over. Help me bury and hide Xucha’s demons. I’ve killed them, and now we must get them out of sight. There’s one here, and another near the wall.”

  “You got it,” Quen said, putting his foot territorially on the broken sphere at Rakulo’s feet.

  “Meanwhile, I need a volunteer to come with me. We tried to go around the Wall and a brave man was taken by the sea monster. We tried to go over top of the Wall, and Xucha’s demons came out to stop us. That’s how we know we’re getting close. After a year of searching, we are finally coming up against violent resistance, as expected—as we trained for. I think Citlali and Thevanah are still up there, in the trees, looking for a way over. We shall know more when they return. But for now, we must keep searching. And there is one last attempt we must make.”

  “I’ll go,” Quen said.

  “Without knowing what I’m going to ask you to do?”

  He nodded.

  The others stated their agreement and nodded bravely.

  “When the demons came through the Wall, I saw cracked earth on the other side, and in the cracks, green glowing water like the kind that fills the Well of Sacrifices. I think that means the waterways connect—underground. There’s a river at the back of Gehro’s cave. If we can’t go around or over the Wall, we’ll have to try going under it.”

  23

  Dreaming and Dreading

  Eliana was sick of airplanes. She typed and retyped six drafts of a long message to Amon before deleting it while she waited for the plane to depart. As the plane lifted into the air, she noticed the woman seated next to her in the pantsuit and fancy hat was leaning away from Eliana, holding her sleeve to her nose. Eliana lifted her shirt and sniffed quietly, inhaling a perfume of musky sweat mixed with loamy earth. She smelled like a rancid jungle.

  Eliana chuckled bitterly then reached down and shifted the bag holding the new set of soil and rock samples under the seat in front of her, trying to ignore the woman’s wrinkled nose and disgusted expression.

  A proper shower had been elusive these past few weeks. Enough time in the jungle and you forget you need to do anything more than wash the dirt from your skin with a wet washcloth, only to be soaked in sweat again immediately. Perhaps she
should shower before she went to confront Amon. He would probably be more receptive to her ideas if she didn’t smell like something a dog would want to roll in.

  The flight passed quickly as she considered what angle to take with him. Would he be receptive to her after the prolonged silent treatment? It wasn’t like him to hold a grudge, but this was different. Maybe she should have sent that message after all. She checked the wifi fees and scoffed. Twenty-five dollars for an hour of wifi on the plane was robbery. Forget it.

  Eliana had always had a rebellious streak. If he didn’t want to help her, if he continued to be unreasonable, she would do what needed to be done on her own. Go behind his back if it came to that. One of his engineers would help her. Reuben, or maybe Jeanine.

  She hoped it didn’t come to that. Her options now felt so limited. Eliana had to go back to Kakul. It was the only way to confirm her discoveries. Once Lakshmi and Talia and Tanner had seen the full carving that Eliana had found with Ross, they all agreed with that assessment.

  “And we’re coming with you,” Lakshmi had said.

  “That’s right,” Talia chimed in. Tanner and Ross both nodded, one like a bobblehead, the other stone-faced and serious. They planned to follow her back to Austin tomorrow, after they finished labeling and photographing the new site in detail. That would give Eliana a chance to work on Amon, and arrange a time for them all to go through the machine together, to continue their search.

  The air in Austin was blessedly cool, if you could believe that for central Texas; eighty degrees felt like standing in a walk-in cooler compared to the jungles of central Mexico most of the year.

  Eliana drove her car home and unlocked her front door around 11 PM. She felt her shoulders and neck bunch up involuntarily as she entered her home.

  “Amon?” she called, her voice echoing in the empty foyer. No one responded. She went upstairs to their bedroom—it was neat, clean, the bed made and apparently unused. “Of course,” she said. Amon had been sleeping in the lounge at work again.