Kerry stopped struggling and turned to Ray as he released his hold on her. As she spoke, she seemed to be considering her own words. “If I go, there can be no turning back. No turning back and I will lose everything I’ve ever known.” Her vision then became the embodiment of her fears and the very reality of the voices both near and far fell upon her. “Do we make a pact?”
Ray asked, “A pact?”
“An agreement to stand by our word: no turning back, Ray. Once we start there can be no turning back. If you can’t agree to this, I can’t go. I would sooner remain here. You always have a home to return to. For me, if I leave there will be none, only that which I make for myself.” Kerry spit into her hand and held it out to Ray. “Do you understand?”
Ray spit into his hand, touched it to hers. “Yes, I understand,” he started to say but Kerry stopped him mid sentence, thrusting a hand over his mouth as she pulled him deeper into the storehouse. In the same instant, he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps just outside the storehouse door. As the door jerked open, Kerry was pulling Ray behind her into a storage bin. Ray pulled the door of the bin closed behind him.
The space within the bin was cramped and quickly became stuffy and hot. Ray could scarcely think as his heart pounded in his ears. Quiet minutes passed. Kerry slipped her hand into his, saying in a whisper, “There are few trails from this side to Adalayia and none past it as you wish to go. We must go through the city. There is no other way. Are you prepared for that? Do you understand what might happen?” Kerry was being rational.
“Don’t worry, I will find a way through the city. We will find a way, together.” He believed his words, for he had seen them both in places far off and away from Adalayia. He added, “Don’t forget where it is that I come from—”
“How could I?” cut in Kerry, “How will you get through? They will see you?”
“We will worry about that then and not now,” offered Ray, eager to be off.
Kerry read his agitation. “They returned to the city trail yesterday. We must take the other one.”
As a sign of agreement, he opened the bin door a sliver. He listened and waited, preparing to ease out of the hiding place. Kerry said quietly behind him, “It is the longest and hardest way to go through the stone land and to the city. It wraps and winds its way through many twisted trails. I have never been that way, Ray.”
Ray slipped out of the bin, wiping away the sweat dripping down his face with the back of his arm. True, who had wrestled his way free from the cage, came to a rest beneath Ray’s feet. The slither’s eyes were fixed on Ray; its tongue flashing in and out. “We must leave now. Hurry!”
“Did he talk to you?” Kerry asked, intrigued.
“No,” whined Ray, yet as he thought about it, he wasn’t sure. Why had an alarm sounded in his mind? Regardless, True knew enough to return to the confines of the cage and Ray knew enough not to trouble himself needlessly.
It was then that they heard voices that seemed to come from behind them—voices that came from the other side of the nearby wall—and then that they smelled smoke and saw fire. Before Ray could get his pack on, Kerry had her own pack on, the front shoulder pack she used to carry the meat to winter market. From the doorway as Ray scouted out the best way to make a run for it, Kerry sang a wordless song to her trees, a solemn song of parting and remembrance. Someday I will return, she promised them in her song, though she did not tell Ray this.
A quake shifted through the trees and Ray swore he saw the great boughs of the trees bend and shift, waving a goodbye as he and Kerry raced out of the burning storehouse. The meaning of the wordless song was lost to Ray, though he did not need to comprehend it to understand its beauty. The song was captivating and Kerry sang during the entire frantic race to get clear of the soldiers. Even if Ray had asked about the song, Kerry wouldn’t have been able to explain exactly why she sang it—though she did see Stirling in her mind’s eye and there in that special place where the two sometimes met he was singing the same song.
Ray was glad the song occupied Kerry’s thoughts, for the first steps into the open brought them to the burning house and it seemed that for a time afterward everything around them was ablaze. The fire and black smoke hid as well as it illuminated. Ray and Kerry used this to their advantage as they fled. From time to time, they heard Warring’s piercing calls—calls that seemed to be moving further and further away in the opposite direction.
Soon a land rougher and tougher than Ray had ever fathomed spread out before them. The path they followed was narrow and old, yet Ray was unafraid as he took Kerry’s hand and they raced hand in hand, deeper and deeper into the stone land.
This was the path his dreams had spoken of and though he had not seen the outsider girl in his earliest dreams, she was part of his dreams now. He was optimistic that together they would reach the land beyond and that he return one day to tell Tall, Keen, Isaac, Ephramme and the others about his journey. He was confident too that when he did, Kerry would be beside him.
With the voices chasing behind them in the distance, Ray and Kerry hurried away, hoping against hope to escape safely into the wilds, to make passage to Adalayia, through Adalayia, and eventually beyond. There could be no turning back now and they both knew it. Their fear of the unknown was their shield, making them more aware of their surroundings, and perhaps, even giving them awareness of their greatest hope of all—that such a far off place existed and that they could reach it.
Ray’s thoughts swam. In his mind’s eye he pictured the stronghold perched atop Mount Lar, the stone canyon where dragon lizards roamed, and the far away land where the undermountain men dwelled, knowing that somewhere in the dark beyond the Great High Wizard of Adalayia—the wizard of his dreams—waited as well.
Silence is Golden
Silence is Golden
Ev cooed in Rin’s ear, pressed her body tight against his. She kissed him, full and deep. “I’ve really got to. I can’t be late.”
“Only a few moments more,” said Rin, “You’re going to Ehrmolihrn-7 and the shuttle doesn’t leave for another hour.”
Ev stood and went to the mirror, smiling as she combed her long scarlet locks. She was pleased. She performed brilliantly. “I’ve earned the promotion. Can’t you just be happy for me?”
“What about the day off? What will I tell the kids?”
“Duty calls—the twins will understand. Besides, I’m meeting Director Finn.”
“UFC Director Finn?”
Ev kissed Rin on the cheek. “This will go well,” she said. “I’ll present to the Director and come home. This was the last. Traitors can only hide for so long—it’s all done now.”
A light knock came to the door. The door swept open. “Mommy, mommy,” shouted Marty and Penn. “Come look!”
Ev pulled her robe from the side of the mirror, slipping it on before wrapping her arms around the boys—her boys. “Mommy’s got to get ready. Show daddy.” She smiled, releasing the embrace reluctantly. She watched the boys cross to Rin, jump onto the bed.A pillow fight ensued—it always did. She moved away from the mirror quickly, catlike as she hurried into the bathroom, hoping Rin and the boys didn’t see her tears.
She closed the bathroom door, turned on the faucet, collapsing to the floor. Anguish and tears took her as never before. She lay there, trembling, crying, trying to pull herself together. She looked up, saw herself in the long mirror suddenly thinking she looked like a scared little girl. She got it together then. If there’s one thing she wasn’t anymore, it was a scared little girl huddling in corners as plasma bombs exploded all around her.
She rinsed her face, turned off the faucet then hurriedly penciled in her mascara, eyeliner and lipstick. Her uniform was there, pressed and waiting. She tucked her long shirt in as she went into the bedroom to find her black leather boots.
Rin and the boys were in the kitchen. She heard them singing the breakfast song—a silly song of soggy cereal that was the only thing that would get Marty and Pen
n to eat in the morning. She kissed the boys, hugging them as tightly as she had before. She kissed Rin, whispering in his ear, “Take this. Play it after I’ve gone. You’ll know what to do then.”
She ran from the kitchen, into the foyer, out of the house with Rin calling after her. She knew he was confused. He wouldn’t understand at first but he would know what to do. The safety of the boys depended on it.
She was pulling the hydro out of the garage when he ran out of the house. She pretended not to see him, pressing Engage and slipping into the morning sky before he could do or say anything that would change her mind. She knew in that moment, that instant between heartbeats when she saw his eyes reflected in the rearview mirror and the hydro raced away, that she would never see him or the boys again. She accepted that—had no other choice but to accept that as the alternative was something she just couldn’t endure.
Fifteen minutes later, she was strapped in waiting for the shuttle to depart for Ehrmolihrn-7. She wasn’t afraid anymore, she was beyond that. She reminded herself that she would smile for the director as she gave her tactics review. Then she would wait, accept what came next. She wasn’t afraid of the silence anymore—silence was golden.
The shuttle launched. Tsetingaen-17 fell away behind her. She didn’t look back, only ahead, but that didn’t slow her thoughts or stop her mind from replaying the digix. She wondered then as a tear well up in her eye if Marty and Penn would understand it all someday. She hoped they would but knew Rin never would.
* * *
My dearest, please forgive me. I know I promised—I did try. But one against the many could never hope to win, to have hoped at all was struggle enough. Here at the last, I remember it all and it seems a sin for which I cannot be redeemed. Indeed, I do not expect to be redeemed nor want to be redeemed.
Now that I’m faced with it, I do not expect you to understand. I’ll take with my own hands the one thing you should have taken. For you, you should not find redemption either. Your sin is greater than mine and you should never again find that which you seek but that doesn’t mean shouldn’t know truth—the real and simple truth that you’ll find once this thing between us is no more.
To find truth, you must look to the past—2197—and the real beginning: the treaty signing on Ehrmolihrn-7. Then there had been fourteen million forms of Majority verbal communications, commonly called glots or languages.
The UFC had had the need to represent them all, and hence the dawning of the age of the Polyglot and the Poly-li-tech. Who could have known that two centuries later the respected and once vaulted title of Poly-li-technician would become the basis for high treason to the Majority?
The First Crusade, as it was called, began in 2394. History records show that ancient wars had been fought for politics, ethnic differences, and religion. The Majority fancied themselves Purists, though they did not strive to eradicate racial or political differences, or even to abolish religious practices which had been outlawed since 2315.
Their goal was to purify the universe and bond it by one Majority language. Their faction was over three trillion strong then, and they arrogantly seized control of the UFC, reprogramming its lawkeeper system to do their bidding.
The First Crusade ended in 2679 when Majority-1 declared the universe pure. But we the last linguists survived, ironically sanctioned away by the same faction that wished our demise—Majority-1 wanted to be ready and vigilant should speech diversity return.
By 2695, we were little more than house slaves, forced to scribe out our Minority languages. According to Majority-1, no language could proliferate with only one native speaker and so exactly thirteen million nine hundred ninety-nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine of us labored in Record Hall on Gyandress-4. We were then categorized as Silenced, later officially titled Moribund as one by one after transcription, we as heretics to the UFC and Majority-1 were given our final sentencing.
In 2745, lead by the heretic Duilaird, the Second Minority Front was established and the Second Crusade began. The First Crusade had lasted over three centuries, the Second had just dawned. Majority-1 decided the title Moribund was incitant and had caused the outbreak. All defunct glots were thus officially recategorized as Silenced. But by then, it was too late.
I speak now in this the year 31 M-1, thirty-one years after Majority-1 declared Final Universal Purity. It is a testament to the last linguist, spoken for all those that will someday follow in my footsteps, or so I hope—and at the very least, for you.
Even as I write this, I know they come for me—I know who it is that betrayed me. I do not fear or regret; I’ve given in so deeply to both that I am beyond them. I accept my guilt as well. I am guilty of high treason three times over: guilty on the account that I am Poly-li-tech, guilty that I proliferate diversity, guilty that I am a recorder of culture and history. Once fourteen million languages and millions of proud peoples existed, now there is only Majority-1.
Duilaird liberated us in 2745 and while our numbers were in the mere millions, we spread through the galaxy like a diverse storm. It took only one speaker to rekindle a lust for lost heritage.
Duilaird directed us to return to our home worlds and spread our known tongues to any and all who would listen. Within two decades we became billions and years later trillions. In the end, it took a thousand years to stop what a single, raised voice had started.
I retain hope that there are others out there somewhere in the endless spans of the universe, others who possess the skill to speak with diversity, others who can proliferate speech diversity. Yet, as far as I know, at my passing the last disparate glot will be forever silenced.
My heart is skipping, my voice shaking, hands trembling. It will be only a matter of hours now. I cannot run: there is nowhere left to run to. I cannot hide: there is nowhere they cannot find me.
I will not let them take anything else, nor let you take your prize. I’ll fall to my own silence and bring about eternity in my own way. And thus, it is my hope that they will not win, that you will not find redemption.
My hope against hope is that some small pocket somewhere remains and will fight back against Majority-1. Maybe they will succeed where we have failed.
I speak aloud to an empty room in a tongue that is proclaimed silenced, I am proud. Oft I’ve wondered what Duilaird would have thought of such an end. Would he have thought it glorious? Or would he be as deeply saddened by it as am I?
Years ago I relished the fading and growing of the echoes, though I do not now. They come ever closer, tracking the deceitful echoes of my words, my words in a traitor’s tongue.
I wonder if the hunters know they will be the hunted once diversity is stamped out. For in the end, no one must know that any voice other than Majority-1 existed. What will you think then dearest? Will it be you who takes even when you know what must come next?
You’ve led well. I commend you. I knew your training would serve you, but do you really know who it is that you serve? Will you find redemption in this life or the next—I think not.
My heart grows heavy; the end is here. The silence comes. I say now a final prayer and express my eternal thanks to Duilaird the Heretic. Had I to do it all again, I’d have begged to go first—begged as I’m sure Marten begged—but I would have taken you with me. I wouldn’t have had regret either.
The silence comes. I welcome it—your silence comes as well.
* * *
The shuttle docking roused Ev to conscious thoughts. She stepped with purpose, not surprised to see an escort board the shuttle and approach. Another time, the escort would have been considered an honor contingent. Today though she knew that if she elected otherwise, the escort would follow anyway becoming more guard then escort.
She smiled graciously, nodding to Malleck, the Officer of the Watch. “Another long day?”
“Another long day.” Malleck hid a grin. “Are you to the Director?”
Ev nodded. Nothing on Ehrmolihrn-7 had changed. She walked the long hall from the shuttle, he
r eyes seeing the long line of gray uniforms on either side of the walkway but her mind only on what was ahead. “I need to make a stop first. It’ll only be a moment.”
Malleck grabbed Ev’s elbow as she turned to a side hall. “Orders: no stops. We’re to go straight to Central.”
“And you’re to hold my hand while I tinkle?”
Malleck released his grip. He called to one of the female escorts.
“So formal today?”
“Orders.”
Ev shrugged, hurried down the side hall. The female escort followed. The woman’s lavatory was at the end of the hall. She paused briefly outside the door, casually looking back, judging the distance between her and Mellack. It was at least 50 meters.
She walked the length of the bathroom, going to the last stand. She squatted to the toilet as the escort looked on. “Any chance for privacy? Some things just weren’t meant to be done with an audience.”
The escort glared.
Ev waited until she heard movement that wasn’t hers or the escorts. She waited for the movement to go away, for the door to open and close. She waited a bit more to be sure no one else was in the room.
The escort cleared her throat. “Time.”
“What are you serious? I can’t control how long it takes—it takes as long as it takes.”
“Orders. Let’s go.”
Ev stood, straightened her uniform, marched from the bathroom. Mellack was waiting, nodding approval at the female escort as she took her place with the others.
Central was thirty minutes away by hydro. The Director’s offices a few minutes after that. Ev was silent the entire way.
Director Fynn greeted her. The double doors closed behind her. The adjacent meeting room was empty as was the secretary’s position at the front desk.
Director Fynn stretched out his arm, pointing the way to the meeting room. “I trust it was a success?”
The Robert Stanek Short Story & Novella Collection Page 13
