GEA-4 replaced it and picked up the egg-shaped piece of jade, which Bryta had given her to commemorate her thirteenth birthday. “I have no use for such a decoration.” She put it down in the precise place it had been, then picked up the huge crystal skull, which her aunt had given her. Though she spent more time examining that, she discarded it, in the same way she had her other mementos.
Nimri looked away in shame then realized nothing in her room seemed the same. While things still retained their sentimental value, nothing held a sense of mystery, because she now knew the mineral content and forces of nature it took to create each item. Wide-eyed, she looked at her room as if for the first time. Her gaze settled on a book lying next to her bed: Scientific Explanations for Mysticism by Lorwerth Sandram. She understood the words. She grabbed the volume with trembling hand and opened it, not to look at the exotic pictures, but to scan the words.
Her euphoria waned as she realized the writer boldly condemned everything she held sacred and called it fraud. She snapped it shut and glared at the cover. Until now, this had been her favorite book. Nimri couldn’t count the number of blissful hours she’d spent looking at the beautiful illustrations.
Tears stung her eyes and she wished she’d never asked GEA-4 to give her the keys to wisdom. “GEA-4. Do you realize that according to the ancients, myst wasn’t true power?” Her palm slapped the cover. “This, this, this—person—says it’s an illusion.”
She had no response.
Nimri glanced up. GEA-4 studied a piece of amber with meticulous attention.
Perhaps the Guardian was mute with rage over the heresy.
Sighing, Nimri reopened the book and paged through it. Her stomach tightened with every caption she read. Act by act, Sandram analyzed various manifestations of Mysticism and showed a scientific truth for how people had been tricked. If she believed the writer, then the Lost were right. “If I accept this, there is no myst power…that means—” Unable to articulate the horror, Nimri shook the offending book at the Guardian.
“My programming indicates that if there is belief in a thing, it becomes so.” GEA-4 took the volume and paged through it.
Nimri tried not to fidget as she waited for GEA-4’s assessment. At page forty-six she felt a lump in her throat. When seventy-three turned, the obstruction grew larger. “I’ve always been told I had power but I could never learn to use it.” She swallowed hard. “No wonder.” Despite her resolve, her lower lip quivered. “It doesn’t exist.”
GEA-4 turned to page ninety-seven. “There must first be belief to make anything.”
Was the Guardian testing her?
She swallowed her unshed tears. “Are you suggesting that I don’t believe in myself?” If she’d been any less sunburned, she felt certain she’d be blushing. “You may be right. Isn’t it absurd? Everyone, except me, believes it.” She hung her head. Then, the truth hit her like a landslide. “GEA-4. That’s it.” Nimri placed her palm on the silvery sleeve. “Will you help me?”
“Your request does not compute.”
“Will you help me create an illusion?” Nimri’s heart pounded so loud she couldn’t hear the waterfall.
“Probabilities indicate scientists will understand the illusion.”
“There aren’t any here. Scientists, that is.” While the Lost valued science, even if they didn’t have anyone who knew the old ways. At least Nimri had never heard of such a person.
“Your request is incomplete.”
“Sandram explains how a miracle is performed.” Nimri grabbed the book out of GEA-4’s hands and flipped to page eighty-five, then thrust it back and tapped the pertinent paragraph. “Will you help me create one? It could help us avoid a fight and save lives. Will you help?”
“Yes, I will. Saving allies is a prime directive.”
Nimri felt lightheaded. “First, we need to make you look more natural—more human.”
Chapter Twelve
After the sun reached its zenith, Larwin searched for GEA-4 in the garden; then he expanded his exploration to the surrounding woodlands. Shortly after entering the pine-scented shade, he stepped off the path to analyze a plant he hadn’t seen before. When he finished, he spotted yet another interesting specimen deeper in the shade. Whistling merrily to himself, he catalogued all the pertinent information. Then, he turned back to the path, but couldn’t see it. Confident of his navigational skills, he walked to where it should be.
Instead of a path, he found a moss-covered log.
After spending hours walking in circles, he finally stumbled across a hash mark he’d made the day Nimri had showed him the way to the settlement. Larwin stepped onto the isolated mountain trail then looked left and right, as he determined which way led to Nimri’s clearing. Though his impression had been that town was down and Nimri’s was up, the fern-strewn area seemed flat.
He turned right and jogged along the narrow path, which had seemed much wider the day before. After several minutes of jogging, he spotted some chrome-yellow butterflies lingering over a muddy spot. Hunkering down, he found footprints from where Kazza had chased one into the forest.
He was going the wrong way.
Pivoting as he surged to his feet, Larwin retraced the steps he’d just taken. Within a hundred yards, his lungs burned and sweat stung his eyes. Gnats swirled around him in an annoying cloud. Then, he inhaled one through his mouth. He coughed long and hard, before he got it out.
Another gnat landed in his eye. Try as he might, he couldn’t dislodge it.
Grimly, he hiked up the trail, swatting at the pesky bugs. Strange that he hadn’t noticed the things before.
Finally, as the setting sun painted the clouds mauve, he arrived at the edge of Nimri’s clearing. The insects mysteriously departed. His gaze moved over the clearing. How beautiful it looked at every time of day. It would almost be a shame to harvest the enzymes and transport them to Guerreterre.
Almost.
But not completely. Billions would stay alive on Guerreterre because of this garden and the thousands of other areas on this planet like it. While only a handful of primitives from this world would miss the greenery.
And best of all, if he handled everything correctly, his future prestige and wealth would be secure enough to put him in the top two percent of the population. He’d be wealthy enough to build his own arboretum and have his own tree. The thought of such a fabulous future coming from the ashes of his crash brought forth a chuckle.
Larwin spotted GEA-4 bending over a low-growing velvety clump of grayish foliage. “How is the inventory progressing?”
“On schedule.”
“Great. I wish I could say the same for my analysis of troops needed for the invasion.”
“Why are troops needed?”
“Radzuk! Your programmer really muddled fragments.” Larwin counted to fifty. “Takeovers begin with an invasion. It’s been that way for a millennium.”
“The method wastes resources.” GEA-4 moved to a plant with burgundy flowers and stared at its tiny, dainty leaves. “You commanded me to find a procedure, which minimized the loss of life and resources.”
Larwin wished androids were programmed to carry on normal conversations. “How would you do that?”
“As Nimri plans—by using a peaceful demonstration of strength.”
He blinked. “Surely she doesn’t think that will fend off a squad of Shadow Warriors.”
“She is unaware of Guerreterre and its forces.”
“Explain.”
“Nimri’s foe is the Lost tribe.”
Ah, so the Lost were another tribe. Larwin recalled the bullies he’d fought. They must be from the Lost. Big deal, they were just a bunch of unwashed clumsy bullies, their only weapons were pathetic knives, which a kindergartener could take away, and then go on to win a fistfight against them. “What is the crux of their disagreement?”
“Nimri has not said. She indicated that the two tribes have only been able to co-exist on this planet due to the river’s limitat
ions. However, I am unclear how water is capable of retaining peace.”
He grunted. “Does this planet have a magnetic pole?”
“Affirmative.”
After his day in the forest, he’d decided compasses would be an excellent idea for ground troops. “Anything else you can tell me about this world or their culture?”
“The altercation between the two tribes is a millennium old. This makes me hypothesize that the original source of the difference between the Tribes is long forgotten and the altercation has become a way of life.”
“And that’s why she thinks she can conquer them with a peaceful demonstration?” A good thrashing was the way to deal with habitual bullies, like the four that had attacked him. Larwin couldn’t believe anyone would give credence to “peaceful methods.” But if his unit didn’t have to engage in a planetary battle, it would be possible to salvage more plants. And that meant he would be even richer. Perhaps he needed to research this concept of peaceful takeover. “Do you think her plan will succeed?”
“Probabilities are high in its favor.”
His heart lurched. “Great Radzuk. How many are involved?” His tone was devoid of its previous sarcasm.
“Nimri, a Lost and myself.”
Larwin massaged his right temple and wondered if he could be going insane. Two aliens and one android certainly couldn’t achieve better results than an invasion by four divisions. Unless…“So, she’s working with a mole.” Larwin shook his head, surprised he hadn’t thought of the strategy earlier. “Clever.” Historically, this had worked on more than one occasion, but since he’d entered the academy, there hadn’t been any coups of that type. His instructors had theorized the change was due to so many secret allies having their own agendas, making such scenarios futile.
“Nimri’s only moles destroy root crops.” GEA-4 pointed to an elongated pile, which zigzagged across a planting bed. Larwin squinted at the dirt and frowned. Before he could question her meaning, the android added, “The Lost will be used due to consistent behavior patterns. Thus, Nimri’s demonstration will be a spontaneous reaction to an unspecified future event.”
“When is this event scheduled to happen or is that unspecified, also?”
“She hopes for the forthcoming Market Day.” GEA-4 moved to a tiny plant with fat yellowish leaves.
“And that is?”
“Market Day is every eight days.”
“And you believe there’s a better than average chance of success?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Interesting. If she has such influence over the people, it should be worth my while to observe her plan in action.” Larwin’s entire body tingled with previously unforeseen possibilities. “GEA-4, have you noticed any evidence of roads? My assessment is the invasion will need to be done either on foot or by sky.”
“There are only footpaths.”
Larwin’s hands clenched at the android’s denseness. Despite further interrogation the worthless android didn’t have the answers he wanted. When he later met Nimri, and tried to casually engage her in conversation about takeover tactics, she acted confused by his question and it became obvious that she wouldn’t tell him her strategy.
Thus, Larwin formulated his own surveillance plan.
During the next five days, he got up at dawn and made sure he passed in view of Nimri’s bedroom window as he walked into the shadows of the sequoia. Then, he stealthily ducked behind the first trunk, slipped off his shiny flight suit, and climbed to a high branch, from which he watched Nimri and GEA-4’s activity. Even though he used his audio-visual viewer to increase perception, their activities appeared boringly typical: the two of them picked leaves and flowers, brewed combinations of plants and put them in quaint jugs, cooked, cleaned and enjoyed the tiresome activities so much that they sang from dusk to dawn. At least, Larwin determined their activity appeared normal instead of primitive war preparations.
For all he knew, Nimri knew of his takeover plans and this method could be her way of stalling for time as she brewed some sort of potion. He scratched an ant bite. What had the infernal insects consumed before he’d begun his investigation? And what were bugs doing a hundred or so feet up a tree?
He swatted a fly. He knew GEA-4 had scrambled programming, which caused her to misinterpret information. In disgust, Larwin concluded his own avarice and desire to protect all the botanicals might have contributed to his misunderstanding. He petitioned Kues, the God of War, praying that he hadn’t been suckered by the android, again, and that his faith would be rewarded with riches and plunder. He looked forward to returning to Guerreterre, where all insects had died off centuries ago.
The day before Market Day, Larwin lay on his stomach, watching GEA-4 recharge. He never wanted to see another branch or spend the day in another tree, no matter how exotic tree climbing had seemed prior to the discovery that bugs considered him a tasty meal. After having spent days lying on the broad branch, spying on Nimri to discover her military plan, he felt no closer to finding out her strategy than he’d been when GEA-4 mentioned it. He felt like a giant bug-bitten fool for having listened to the dysfunctional machine. When the sun reached its zenith, GEA-4 finished recharging. As if on cue, Nimri came out of the house holding a large crock of dark brown goop. Nimri swabbed some of the goop on GEA-4’s forearm. Larwin’s interest perked. What reason could anyone have to put food or medication on an android? He increased the viewer’s magnification.
He keyed up the audio. Though broken, their conversation centered on Sir Keram or maybe they were saying Serk ram. Who was Sandram and what problematic detail were they talking about? Was he the mole? Or was ‘Sandr am’ some sort of jam. Larwin’s mouth watered at the memory of jam on white bread. Of course, if they were conversing about a ‘serk ram’, it could have to do with sheep. Strange that he hadn’t seen any evidence of those oddities on this world.
Nimri swabbed more goop on GEA-4. Gradually, the android’s skin tanned. Whoops of delight erupted over his audio unit. Larwin yanked off his audio-visual unit, cast it aside and massaged his aching ears. For a horrible moment, he feared the high volume had done permanent damage to his hearing, then a bird twittered and he heaved a sigh of relief.
Since he couldn’t believe they’d spent days brewing dye, he climbed down the tree to get his headpiece. The high-pitched shrieks of laughter emitting from it made it easy to find in the underbrush. As he picked it up, Larwin turned down the volume then put it on. “Watch me skip.” The voice was unknown.
“You’re too perfect for a kid,” Nimri said. “Be sloppier.” Larwin rubbed his temple and wondered what he’d missed.
Instead of climbing back up the tree to see, he put on his flight suit, sat next to the tree trunk and dreamed of the day he would join Guerreterre’s elite. Kazza found him leaning against the bark as he imagined his riches. The great cat nuzzled him, but Larwin didn’t feel like playing. Abruptly his fantasy darkened with the thought that after the planet’s resources were harvested, he could never sit under this tree again.
Larwin lunged to his feet and went to find out what Nimri and GEA-4 were up to. Though he couldn’t find the annoying android, he found Nimri seated in the ginkgo’s shade, doing something with fabric. It took Larwin over an hour of casual peeks to realize he was witnessing old-fashioned hand sewing.
He went to bed early and fell asleep before GEA-4 arrived. The following morning, for the first time since he’d arrived on Chatterre, Larwin woke alone. As he dressed, he kept having the feeling he’d forgotten something.
Loneliness was a new feeling and an unpleasant one. Larwin rejected it as he stomped down the steps. When he entered the main room, he heard Nimri chuckle and say, “Remember a child moves a bit randomly—yes, like that.”
Larwin paused to listen, then hearing someone approach ducked back out of sight behind a potted plant. He peered through the green and white striped leaves. GEA-4 skipped into the room, swinging an empty basket and humming a vaguely familiar melody. At le
ast, he thought it was GEA-4. He blinked twice. The individual was the correct size, but she wore a blue tunic similar to Nimri’s, her skin was tan and her hair was as blue-black as space.
The aberration twirled like a ballerina and skipped back into the kitchen area.
Androids did not skip or hum.
Larwin shook his head then slipped out the front door and hastened around the outside of the house to the kitchen window. He positioned himself behind a prickly shrub and peeked through one of the more transparent amber panes. Nimri sat at the table sipping something steaming from her blue mug while the odd girl cavorted around the kitchen.
As the stranger twirled and posed, he saw a flash of silver beneath the shaggy bangs. “How do I look?” It was a high-pitched voice, not GEA-4’s sultry tones.
“You look perfect,” Nimri said. “Do you remember everything?”
“Yes, I do.” Hearing the sensual inflection, Larwin’s skin crawled with the confirmation that this indeed was GEA-4.
“Speak with your hands and always use the squeaky tone when others are around.” Nimri shook her finger, as if she was chiding a real child. “You’re supposed to be a human child, not a midget seductress.”
This was the plan that he’d spent so many uncomfortable days trying to fathom? Larwin staggered backward. This was insane. Ridiculous. Weird. Something sharp prodded his spine. Or else he was simply taking what he was seeing at face value and overlooking the real plan.
GEA-4 slapped her forehead in a disconcertingly human manner. “Sorry.” GEA-4 executed some dance steps and hummed a song in an eerie imitation of a true child.
The pain in his spine intensified. Larwin grabbed his back and touched a nose and silky fur.
“Much better.” Nimri clapped. “This is going to work. I just know it.” She got up from the table, moved to the counter, just the other side of the patchwork window and rinsed out her mug.
Star Bridge (Chaterre Trilogy Book 1) Page 16
