‘Young Kanlin was the nineteenth child whose passing is for Rudash.’ He smiled and lifted his arms in the Lanaian gesture of happiness. ‘The new generation is here ...’
I reached out and grabbed him, tugged him savagely out into the sunlight. ‘Don’t just stand there spouting alien gibberish! Can’t you understand ? My wile is ill!’
‘Mr. Haines ...!’
‘Kordalia, whatever’s happening to my wife you seem to know something about it. You’ve got to help her!’
‘No, Mr. Haines!’ He protested as I dragged him across the clearing. ‘She is not ill; it is merely Rudash.’
Around us a crowd of Lanaians was beginning to form. I swung Kordalia around and thrust my face close to his.
‘Listen!’ I seethed. “My wife is lying there ill and all you do is speak words that I don’t understand! Can’t I get any sense out of you? What is this Rudash?’
Kordalia’s dark eyes glanced past me, flicking around the faces watching us, then fastened again on mine.
‘Please, Mr. Haines, your wife asked to be allowed to be Kanlin’s mother ...’
‘Kanlin is dead!’ I yelled. ‘What has he got to do with my wife now? She collapsed just a moment ago. She’s unconscious. Damn you, why won’t you understand ?’
The crowd was beginning to murmur now. I hardly heard them. Kordalia looked perplexed.
‘Kanlin was the last one, therefore the season is complete,’ he said. ‘There are eighteen other women now in a similar coma to your wife’s. They will remain in that state until Transference is complete. Now is the time of Rudash. Kanlin and the others are taking root at the bottom of the Pool-’
‘Taking root?’ I jumped backwards, stumbling against a solid wall of Lanaians. ‘Taking root?’ I swayed. Several pairs of oddly jointed hands supported me. I stumbled forward again. Kordalia’s bewildered eyes gleamed suddenly huge in front of me.
‘A metamorphosis?’ The hairs at the back of my neck began to prickle. ‘You mean they’re changing into plants?’
‘Yes, Mr. Haines. They root in the sediment at the bottom of the pool. They link, all nineteen of them. Eventually they develop a collective consciousness that becomes powerful enough to include that of their mothers ...’
‘Kordalia, do you realise what you’re saying, what you’re expecting me to believe?’
‘Mr. Haines, I know you may not be familiar with the Lanaian cycle of ...’
‘But Maria isn’t a Lanaian!’ I shouted. “How can it happen to her?’
‘Mr. Haines, I do not know. She had very much sympathy with the young Kanlin—they were very close. Perhaps sympathy became empathy, then perhaps something else again ...’
‘Maria!’ I suddenly felt drunk. Turning quickly, I fell sprawling in the dust. I heaved myself upright again and ran back towards our hut. The crowd of Lanaians hastily made way for me, their large orb-like eyes watching me curiously.
Now I realised where I’d come across the word Rudash before—I’d read it on the Scroll of Priests.
She lay where I had left her. Her temperature had risen further. I knelt beside the bunk, grasped her shoulders and pressed my face close to hers. This couldn’t be happening to her, not to my wife ...
‘The male children become plants,’ I whispered, imploringly, oblivious now of the fact that she could neither hear nor see me. She gave no reaction and I jerked her upright, screaming: ‘Wake up! It’s not for you ... It’s alien ... It’ll kill you ...!’ And then finally, realising the uselessness of what I was doing, I let her fall back on the pillow, my rage giving way to a feeling of intense, unbearable helplessness. I slumped down beside her on to the uneven floor, my emotional floodgates burst. Tears filling my eyes, I fell against the bunk and buried my face in my hands.
* * * *
Six
There are some things over which a man has no control, moments in life when trip-wires of physiological change sweep under you and you either jump over them or fall flat. How long I lay there I don’t know. But when I got to my feet it was dark and I realised I must have slept. And sleep, it seemed, had carried me safely over one of those trip-wires. Now my thoughts were crystal-clear. The Lanaians could do as they liked with each other and I would never interfere—but when it affected my wife it was more than I could be expected to endure. I looked down at Maria’s deceptively peaceful face. Gone now was the anger and the self-pity; now I knew exactly what I had to do.
I went to the door of the hut and gazed out across the empty clearing to where Lanaia’s single red moon shone high in the north. Nineteen male children died, I thought, and were buried in the Pool of Transference. But they did not die—it was something else, some kind of metamorphosis. They took root in the Pool, linking together, Kordalia had said. But how? It wasn’t important. The fact remained that this phenomenon also somehow affected their mothers, sending them into some kind of deep comatic fever.
And Maria, although a foster mother, was one of these.
I went back inside, undressed and put on a pair of shorts. I took a large knife from the equipment case, then went back out on to the clearing.
The air was cool against my skin as I moved across the village. The priest house was in total darkness as I crept around it. Once in the open I broke into a run and within a few minutes I was at the life-ship. I unlocked the hatch and dropped into the cabin. I opened the repair locker and took out my heavy rubber vacuum-torch. Then I detached the face-plate from my pressure suit, climbed back outside and relocked the hatch behind me.
To the west the village was still in darkness. I ran away from it, heading southwards. In less than a minute I was on the bank of the river.
I watched the smooth water sliding past my feet, scarlet reflections shimmering across its width like ghosts. The only sound was the soft hiss and lap of water in the reed beds.
I turned, moving quickly beside the river, following its course as it curved away to the south-east. When I was sure it was safe I switched on the torch.
At last the river widened, the flow of water slowing to accommodate the increased capacity of the Pool of Transference. I glanced quickly over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t being followed, then stepped off the bank.
* * * *
The water was icy cold against my ankles. I waded forward and sank up to my knees. The mud sucked at the soles of my feet like glue. I swung the torch, its wide yellow beam probing into the depths of the pool. I took another step forward and sank up to my chest; already my legs were numb with the cold. I spat into the face-plate, rubbed the glass, then washed it out before putting it on. Without a helmet to hold it in place it was loose, but it would have to do. Then I pushed myself forward, took a lungful of air and dived below the surface.
The beam of the torch probed across the bottom, flashing and glinting against smooth round stones and dark clumps of weed. The mud sloped away to my left and I kicked down, my ears starting to hum. There was no sign of what I was looking for.
I came up for air.
On my second dive I found the broken piece of coffin almost immediately. I kicked eagerly forward, swinging the torch from left to right. Then suddenly I saw all nineteen of them, all together in a wide half-circle, half-buried in the mud.
I saw Kanlin and almost gulped with horror. His skin was now a sickly translucent green and his fingers had somehow become elongated, thrusting down into the mud like emaciated worms. His eyes were closed, his mouth lolling open, tiny teeth glinting like diamonds in the wavering light.
I told myself there was no other way. A twinge of conscience swept through me and was gone. I had to save Maria. Despite my religious beliefs, despite my training, despite everything, Maria was all that really mattered to me.
I took the knife from my belt and hacked down. The blade cut through two of Kanlin’s fingers and half a third. Eyes still closed, he instantly began to writhe as if in the grip of some insane nightmare. The others began to writhe too. I hacked at his left wrist, striking it four
times before it was severed. Threads of dark oily liquid oozed from the wounds and billowed up through the water.
I came up for air, then dived again.
By now all nineteen of them were writhing frantically. I gripped Kanlin’s shoulders and tried to pull him from the mud. He was stuck firm. I dug away around him with the knife, then pulled again. He moved slightly. I made another effort and suddenly he came—and so did the next child in line!
Their toes had grown in much the same way as their fingers, lengthening like roots and tangling together. In a frenzy of horror I realised that all nineteen of them were connected—if I pulled one from the mud they would all come. I dropped Kanlin and swam round the others.
Hardly knowing what I was doing, I slashed and hacked with the knife. I moved across the whole circle, stabbing from left to right, the water around me clouding with the dark viscous liquid. At last, lungs almost bursting, I thrust up to the surface.
Gulping air, I threshed to the bank and dragged myself out of the water and lay there for a long time on the soft wet grass, panting heavily and sobbing like a child.
* * * *
Seven
I could hear the shrieks as I approached the village. Lanaians were running in all directions, calling frantically to one another like bewildered children. The priest house was ablaze with light.
A mob suddenly surged out of the village and rushed towards me, their eyes glittering in the light from their flaming torches. I stopped. I knew they were not given to violence; but still my hand went to the hilt of my knife. I was suddenly very frightened.
I saw Kordalia detach himself from the mob and hold up his hands. His accusing eyes held mine.
‘You have committed murder.’
His tone was calm, almost matter of fact. I looked at him firmly.
‘I had no choice; I did it for my wife.’
He shook his head. ‘I recognise your values and they fill me with dismay. But perhaps you still do not understand. You have killed us ... I believe your word for it is “genocide”.’
I straightened, took a step forward. ‘Now, look-’
He gazed at me sadly. ‘No, you do not understand. But it is done, nothing anyone does will change it...’
I stared at him in surprise, then at all the others. Abruptly, my surprise turned to contempt. I had mur ... yes, murdered nineteen of their kind, and they accepted it as if I had done nothing more than drown a sackful of kittens. Suddenly I felt superior to these people. At that moment perhaps I even felt proud of myself.
I stepped forward and walked past them, heading towards the village. At the clearing I broke into a run.
Maria sat on the bunk, hands to her forehead. She looked as if she had awakened from nothing more than a few hours’ sleep.
‘Jim!’ She gaped at me. ‘You’re dripping wet! What’s happening?’
I knelt down and gripped her arms. ‘They won’t get you,’ I whispered, smiling with relief. ‘It’s all right!’
She frowned. ‘What in God’s name are you talking about? What’s going on?’
I lifted her to her feet. ‘We’re getting out of here. Now.’ I took her hand and pulled her across the room. I ducked through the doorway. Outside I came face to face with Kordalia.
‘If you wish to leave I cannot stop you,’ he said, gently. ‘But first you must understand that you have not murdered just nineteen of us; you have murdered all of us ...’
Maria stared at me. She looked horrified. ‘Murdered ...?’
Kordalia ignored her. His flashing eyes lanced into mine.
‘There will be no priests to guide the young ones,’ he said. ‘Left to fend for themselves, they will die in the winter or be taken by the bannalia.’
Belligerently, I returned his stare. ‘You’re talking rubbish ...’
‘No, Mr. Haines.’ He gestured towards the other huts of the village. Faint screams drifted through the darkness. ‘Can you not hear them ? Those are the cries of the mothers of the other eighteen you killed. Their minds were -half-occupied by the collective consciousness of their sons— now they are awakened, each with only half a mind, the other half filled with the pain and awareness of death. It is an agony that they will feel until they die also.’
‘Jim!’ Maria stared at me.
‘But what about my wife, Kordalia?’ I shouted. ‘Why does she not suffer this agony you talk of?’
‘Humans and Lanaians are not the same, Mr. Haines. You are alien to us and we are alien to you; there are many differences between us. Perhaps you cannot understand the cycle that our lives follow. But somehow Mrs. Haines fell into that cycle, slotted into a niche that had suddenly become available, and was swept up by it. She had great love for the young Kanlin: somehow her mind was held by that love, and perhaps that was the lever by which the Chosen Ones controlled her mind. But I am only guessing, Mr. Haines. Really it is no longer important ... You have broken that hold; now your wife is returned to you. You have succeeded in what you set out to do.’
I thrust my face towards his. ‘Yes,’ I snarled. ‘I succeeded. And you stand there and whine about what will happen to the young ones ... Well, why don’t you get your young men to come out from where they are hiding and take care of them?’
‘Men?’ Kordalia frowned. He seemed puzzled. ‘There are no men. Surely you know ...’
‘Jim! What’s this all about?’ Maria’s eyes, wide and alarmed, flicked from one to the other of us.
‘Know what?’ I stared at Kordalia.
“Mr. Haines, you are unbelievably stupid,’ he said. ‘Our race is composed entirely of females; the only others are the sexless Chosen Ones who never grow biologically older after they are born, but are instead buried in the Pool of Transference ..
‘Entirely of females?’ I snorted. ‘Then what the hell are you?’
‘Mr. Haines, I was once a mother to a Chosen One. There were twenty-one Chosen Ones in that generation, as there were nineteen in this. My child passed on and was buried in the Pool of Transference—and so were the other twenty. They linked, their dormant awarenesses mingled, became fused. Then that composite awareness entered my mind and the minds of the other mothers. We became comatic until the process was complete. Then we woke to a new life. As mothers we were finished, but our minds were now the important thing. Our offspring had become one with nature, and we had become one with our offspring. We were no longer mothers; now we were the leaders of our people; we were the priests, we were the ones who would guide our people in the true cycle of ...’
His voice trailed off as he realised I was laughing in spite of myself.
‘Kordalia,’ I said, ‘are you trying to tell us you’re a female?’
‘No, Mr. Haines,’ he said, evenly. ‘Not any more. Once the process of Rudash was completed, my role as a mother was over; then I became what I am now—merely a sentient extension of nature itself. My mind was important, not my body. Gradually my breasts withered, my hair fell out and my voice became cracked and broken. I draped myself in the robes of priesthood and became what I am.’
‘Then what are you people?’ I asked him. ‘Partheno-genetics—people with just one sex?’
‘No, Mr. Haines.’ He shook his head sadly as if he thought I never would understand and stood away from the door. Maria looked thunderstruck. For a moment I stood there in bewilderment. Then suddenly the truth hit me like a slap of cold water in the face. And at the same awful, sobering moment I saw that it had been there in front of us all the time if only we’d really looked, if only we’d opened our eyes. ‘Oh my God,’ I muttered. A sick feeling grabbed the pit of my stomach. Turning quickly, I gripped Maria’s wrist and pulled her out of the hut.
We ran through the dust and out across the grass. Lanaians stood aside and watched us go. None tried to follow. Through my mind the sacred words of the Scroll of Priests ran, over and over ... ‘The sons of life, having sprung from seed shall be seed. They shall consume each other and all the senses of the soil, of water and of the a
tmosphere. They shall consume the ones who bore them and these shall be sacred ...’
Sprung from seed. Sprung from seed. The phrase tumbled through my mind like an equation. I gripped Maria’s arm, leading her away from the village. Completely bewildered and still weak from the coma, she followed unprotestingly.
* * * *
Eight
We reached the life-ship and I unlocked the hatch. We dropped inside and I sagged into the control-couch, enjoying the familiar touch and smell of plastic and metal.
Maria stared around the life-ship in abrupt alarm. She suddenly seemed to come alive. ‘Jim, for pity’s sake! Tell me what’s happening!’
‘It’s Kanlin,’ I said, wondering why she hadn’t already guessed. ‘He was buried in the pool, but he wasn’t dead— not really. He was just changed; he had become something else...’
New Writings in SF 25 - [Anthology] Page 17
