by Tobias Wade
“Do you feel the joyous blood, oh Quasi Crystal? It is our own, given freely out of devotion to you, so that you may drink from it and grow into a mountain that pierces the clouds and drinks from the stars. What does thou see on high? What is clear to the divine that is hidden from us poor sinners below?”
The sharp metallic smell from the blood was beginning to make Sali nauseous. Why did the only other people this side of the galaxy have to be a cult of human sacrificing lunatics? Maybe she would be better off just making a break for it now and living on her own in the woods. She was more accustomed to synthetically enhanced flavors in delivery cylinders of course, but how hard could it really be to survive here if these unstable idiots continued to persist?
The trouble with being insane, however, is that the definition only holds as long as there are enough sane people to contrast the condition with. The less sane people there are, the more sane they seem to each other. Before you know it, sacrificing people and talking to crystals don’t seem nearly as silly when everybody else is doing it anyway. A clear indication that this threshold has been reached, Sali reasoned, was this moment when the crystal replied.
“Oogadie boogadie.” The crystal made a sound which vibrated into the ground and tickled the feet of all who heard.
“The Great Crystal speaks!” the shaman howled, flinging his bloody hands into the air to scatter the bright red drops in a primal display.
“And the loud fool interrupts,” the crystal resonated. “Is that blood on your hands? That’s disgusting, get yourself washed up this instant.”
“I’m sorry… I thought you’d like it…”
“Like it? Like it? How many times do I have to tell you: a few drops is plenty to summon me. I certainly don’t need—hey, that had better not be one of the new prisoners I sent. What’s the point of sacrificing someone before they deserve it?”
The Grand Shaman hung his head in shame. He reached back with his foot to slide away the basket containing Tareesh’s head. The hiss of ‘sacrifice’ began from a few of the onlookers, but a severe look from the Shaman managed to shut it down this time.
“I’ve failed you, Quasi Crystal.” The Grand Shaman Ang groveled. “There is only one punishment fitting such a disappointment such as myself.”
“Put the axe down, Shaman Ang. As much as I’d like to see how someone goes about beheading themselves, I have a very busy day, so please let’s get on with this.”
It wasn’t clear at all that crystals could sigh, or what it would take to keep one busy all day, but the sudden wind which whistled through the jungle had a definite melancholy air. It was similar to the pervasive malevolence which the jungle radiated before. It felt as though the world itself was having a mood, and that out of all of creation, Sali herself was at the wrong end of it. From such a gripping place the Quasi Crystal spoke again.
“There will be no trials today. No test of courage, nor strength, nor wit, nor will, save that which all of you will need to stay alive. A long night is falling with an uncertain dawn. I have taught you to respect the wilderness and all who dwell within, but no such reverence is due the creatures which will soon rain from the sky. There is no honor to be won by sharing your bounty with them, nor kindness in sparing a life that will not spare yours. Death is coming from the darkness between the stars, and you must be ready. The swarms of Draiths should be avoided at all costs. Do not permit any of your number to leave the safety of the village under any condition. In fact, it would be best if you don’t leave your houses at all until I have dealt with the problem. This is your only warning.”
The ground wasn’t trembling anymore. Wooden doors began snapping shut as the surrounding villagers melted back into the trees. The Grand Shaman Ang remained on his knees before the crystal with his head pressed against the bloody stone. The wind was rising again, stirring breaths of wordless fears and prickling the sweat from their skin.
“Well that chaps my ass more than a three foot flame,” Harris Johnson broke the silence. He took two large steps toward the wall of trees before slowing, apparently surprised that no one was trying to stop him. “Do you hear me? We’re leaving. Me and my crew, we’re getting off this planet.”
“And going where?” Sali replied crisply, irritation rising in her voice. “Just to float around space until we run out of food?”
“Hello? Crystal, are you still there?” Ramnus asked, approaching it cautiously.
“Get back!” Guala roared, pouncing after Ramnus and dragging at the back of the large man’s jumpsuit. A similar effect might have been achieved by a weasel clinging to the haunches of a moose, and Guala was dragged a good distance before Ramnus appeared to notice him at all.
“Only the shaman is permitted to speak to the Quasi Crystal!” Guala endured heroically.
“Says who?” Ramnus asked.
“Well, the shaman. Obviously.”
“Yeah, and who told him?”
“The Quasi Crystal?” Guala let go and scratched his head. “Yeah, that’s right, because he’s the only one who gets to talk to it.” The man beamed with the satisfaction of a dieter who eats a sweet to reward himself for resisting sweets so well.
“That’s enough, Guala,” The Grand Shaman said, still pressing his head against the crystal. “Let them through. They are one of us now. If any of them have a prayer they would like transmitted, then I shall relay the message.”
“I wish the Galactic Express is still in working order when we recover it,” Harris Johnson said at once.
“A wish and a prayer aren’t the same thing,” the Shaman grumbled. “
“Oh yeah?” Sali asked. “What’s the difference then?”
“Prayers are more like fan mail to a celebrity. You know they’re very busy with important lives, and that chances are they’ll never write back. But that’s okay, because all that matters is that you feel a connection with them while you’re writing. You feel like they’re a part of your life, and you’re a part of theirs. It’s that connection, that state of mind which unburdens you of your worries and fears by putting them in the hands of something greater than yourself. Wishes are supposed to be answered, prayers are supposed to be heard. The crystal isn’t a magic genie.”
“So much for wishing to be home.” Elden sighed. “In that case, I’ll just pray to see Amore again before I die.”
“Seriously? After everything she put you through?” Sali asked incredulously.
“What can I say?” Elden gave a helpless shrug. “I don’t know who I am without her reminding me who I shouldn’t be.”
The Grand Shaman mumbled the words into the stone.
“Yeah, that’s more like it,” Guala said approvingly. “Just vague enough to give you some hope, and even if it doesn’t deliver, it won’t bother you because you’ll be dead. Well done, this man knows how to pray.”
“This is stupid. I’m not praying to a rock.” Sali crossed her arms stubbornly.
“Oh come now, there’s no harm in it,” Ramnus said, rubbing his hands together like he was expecting them to catch fire. “I’d like to pray for her, and hope the Quasi Crystal keeps her safe, no matter which world she travels by.”
The gesture was kind enough to puncture a small hole in Sali’s indignation and self-pity. She wouldn’t let herself show it though, because that would give too much credit to these pipe dreams. Instead she frowned a little more fiercely than she had before, hoping that Ramnus could correctly infer that she was pleased. This was perhaps a mistake, considering that the befuddled man had ranked so poorly in his dating life.
The Grand Shaman sighed. He reluctantly pulled away from the crystal with a popping sound as the dried blood released from his forehead. The man snatched a folded cloth nearby and wiped vigorously at the blood and powder, revealing an ancient, weary face when he was finished.
“Your prayers have been heard,” Shaman Ang said. “Keep your head down, do what you’re told, and find yourselves a tree to settle in for the night. The crystal knows there a
re no shortage of empty houses. Tomorrow we’ll begin to fortify the camp the best we can.”
“Whatever you do, it won’t be enough,” Harris said. “We saw the size of the thing you’re up against, so maybe you should be listening to us instead of that crystal. Even the little ones managed to tear through steel—how long do you really think a wooden fort is going to hold up?”
“You are new and do not understand the ways of the woods. There is always a way to survive every test, as long as we’re willing to do whatever it takes.”
“The crystal said this wasn’t a test,” Harris protested.
“Do not speak to the shaman that way,” Guala said tensely. “He alone knows what the crystal means. He has kept us safe through more than you can imagine. We would all have died long ago if it weren’t for him.”
“Is surviving the only thing that matters, if it means sacrificing each other to do so?” Ramnus asked.
“Not for me it doesn’t,” Harris said in a sly whisper. “That’s why you’re not going to listen to that shaman or his crystal magic. You’re going to do what I say, because I’m the guy who actually has a plan to get you out of here.”
“Yeah, by building a spaceship from scrap parts?” Sali asked in a hushed tone. “I couldn’t even do that on a normal gravity planet, and I have an entire textbook on rocket science in here.”
“That’s a negative, robot girl. I’m going to wait until those Draiths start dropping down, then we’re going to fly some pods up there and retake the Galactic Express.”
“Stop mumbling and straighten up. Show some respect,” the Grand Shaman said as he approached. “So long as you are here, you obey the crystal, and when the crystal isn’t speaking, you obey me. Don’t think we’ve survived this long without knowing how to get rid of troublemakers. And don’t mistake the Crystal’s mercy with weakness. It may not want any more sacrifices, but that still leaves executions, murders, and good old fashioned killings!”
“Don’t forget strangulation!” Guala added cheerfully.
“That’s a kind of murder, but thank you all the same,” the shaman said affectionally. “My word is final, now begone. Guala, help them find some food and leave me be. The crystal and I have more to discuss in private.”
“Goodnight Shaman,” Ramnus said demurely, “goodnight crystal. Thank you for allowing us to keep our heads.”
“Yeah, for now anyway.” Elden sighed. He had twelve years worth of sighs inside to work through, and he’d only scratched the surface of the back log.
The promise of food was sufficient to allow even Harris to do as he was told, though he still made a deliberate effort to shove himself to the front to make it seem like the others were following him. Guala took several twists and turns on his path through the trees, but Harris was quick to jog back and reinsert himself in front of him at every opportunity.
“You know I’m right,” Harris continued in his conspiratorial voice. “Just think about it. Even if we do manage to eke out a bare survival living as a savage—no offense, Guala.”
“None taken, we’re ferocious.”
“‘Course you are. Well even if we do stay alive like this, what kind of life is that? A short, brutal one, where the first untreated jungle disease or infection kills us as surely as an alien monster might. No thank you, not for me. Once you’ve sailed the galaxy at the head of a starship—as a Captain, no less—there’s no other life that’s life at all.”
“But if we don’t get along with the villagers, then Tareesh will have died for nothing,” Ramnus lamented.
Sali rolled her eyes. If only she had received that upgrade, then she could have rolled them completely around with her pupils disappearing at the top of her eye and not reappearing until they came up from below. That feature wouldn’t have had much practical application, but it would have added a whole new level of sass that she felt was much needed at the moment.
“As much as I hate to agree with Mr. Captain, he’s actually got the stronger point here,” Sali said. “There’s a reason cavemen died younger than a well treated cat on Pria. Without some basic necessities like antibiotics and an immune system with relevant antibodies, we’re as good as dead staying here long. We’re still going to need the shaman’s permission to go anywhere in the working pod though, so we might as well play nice for now.”
Harris Johnson spread his arms wide and held the others back, allowing Guala to walk a little ways ahead of them. Then in a loud whisper, he hissed: “Don’t worry, your Captain is not faint of heart. We’re taking the pod tonight.” A conspicuous rumble from deep in his belly prompted him to add, “After we eat, anyway. I know exactly what to do, and I’ll explain once the others have gone to sleep for the night.”
Despite their superstitions, the people of the jungle planet demonstrated their severe practicality as the dead Sacred Habanon was transformed into the savory Habanon. Nothing was wasted from the monstrous cat, from its tanning hide, to the long claws that were fastened into spear tips, to the meat that was slow cooking in an underground hot pit. Elden stopped to marvel at the work of brightly colored organs being blasted in ovens. They were turning them into durable containers, while the intestines were coated with sap to be used as primitive piping which distributed real running water throughout the village.
Despite the alluring smell, Sali maintained her vegetarianism, opting instead to try and harvest some of the rampantly growing red berries which grew from the tended bushes. The moment she seized a handful, the berries split down the center to reveal bristling thorns within which snapped at her as though they were teeth. She tried to collect some of the wide flat leaves from the lower branches, some of the plumper looking roots, and even got desperate enough to try gnawing on some of the thick stringy vines, although even ten minutes of chewing wasn’t enough to loosen the fibers enough to swallow. All the while Sali grew redder and hotter in the face, until wordlessly she stomped back to the others. She avoided their eyes, and using a chomping berry to pin her nose shut, she finally accepted a bowl of the steaming Habanon stew.
“So what does an alien cat have to do with the crystal anyway?” Elden asked Guala. The other villagers had all returned to their homes, but Guala remained sitting with the newcomers beside the fire, staring into the flames with a far-off misty expression.
“It isn’t AN alien. It’s THE alien,” Guala said. “Not even the Grand Shaman has ever found another creature here, so it stands to reason that it would be sacred.”
“I didn’t see any feathers on the Habanon,” Ramnus said.
“The feathers came from the feather tree, and we got the poison from those chomping berries. It really is just the Habanon and us.”
Sali surreptitiously removed the berry from her nose, staring glumly down into her stew. “Is that what passes for reason here?” she asked. “What’s the Habanon eat then?”
“You, if it gets the chance.”
“But it must have evolved long before humans got here. And there’s no way something with teeth and claws like that would waste its time foraging for berries. You don’t get a predator that size without an equally big prey that can fight back.”
Ramnus shrugged. “Aliens are supposed to be strange.”
“No. I don’t like it,” Sali insisted. “Sure they’re supposed to be different, but the basic logic that gave rise to them shouldn’t have changed. Unless they sprang into existence already fully formed, there have to be other animals on this planet. You just haven’t found them yet. And they have to be dangerous enough to challenge fifteen feet of muscle and claws.”
“Sounds like one more reason to get off this rock,” Harris agreed firmly.
After their meal, Guala showed each of the newcomers to their very own houses carved into the trees. Overall the villagers had been surprisingly generous and welcoming, once they got past the bloody sacrifice which formed their first impression. Guala cheerfully explained that there were plenty of houses to go around thanks to the untimely deaths of their previo
us occupants, and he was exuberantly prepared to go into the grizzly details before Sali shut him down.
“It’s been a long day, Guala,” Sali said with that patient but murderous tone of voice which mothers use to beg their children to go to sleep. “I’m looking forward to learning about all about the ways we might be dismembered and decapitated tomorrow, honest.”
“Oh you don’t know the half of it,” Guala said, obliviously standing his ground. “There was a man called Montang who was trying to climb this very tree when he slipped onto that sharp branch just over there…”
“Goodnight, Guala,” Sali asserted more forcefully.
“Didn’t kill him, mind you, but it got him pretty deep where the sun don’t shine, minding my language. From then on we gave him the nickname Gravy Train on account of…”
“Hey Guala,” Elden called from a nearby tree. “Will you show me how to turn on the water properly? This pipe keeps spraying everywhere.”
“Aye, just like poor old Gravy Train…” Guala sighed, bowing to Sali before turning away. “Be right with you, Elden. The trick is to pin the Habanon intestines down with your foot to control how much water is coming out.”
Sali mouthed the word thank you and shut her door. Drinking whatever came out of those pipes would be a war crime against the germs. It wasn’t exactly luxurious inside, but there was a sleeping nook that was padded with Habanon fur, and a small table carved into the wood. Historically, most humans would have felt blessed to have such a dry and comfortable place to call their own. Sali was lucky to even be alive, all things considered. And yet these words rang hollow in her mind even as she thought them, because no matter how much worse it could be still did nothing to make her forget how much better it used to be.
How hard could it be to get an electrical generator running? Even a watermill in the stream would be a start. The idea of backbreaking work in a field breeding genetically unaltered plants, or hunting a monstrous animal with a sharpened stick wasn’t just primitive—it was repulsive. If the Humanists really had sent them here to colonize a new planet, then Sali couldn’t imagine a worse way of going about it. Setting up this backward society didn’t do anyone at home a bit of good.
