The Blue of Antyllus

by Michael E. Gonzales

  “It’s still going work out just like that Nash, darling. I’m going to rule this planet through fear, intimidation, even war, whatever it takes. Better to rule in hell than to serve in heaven.

  “And you, Nash? Your bones will be ground up in a big steaming pile of some monster’s crap around here some place. No one will know you were ever born.”

  Major Kuriko raised her pistol and took aim.

  “Nash, if you ask me nice, I’ll put this bullet in your head and end it quickly. Otherwise, I’ll put it in your gut, and you can pray that whatever smells your blood kills you quickly rather than eat you alive.”

  “Go to hell.”

  “Goodbye, Nash,” she said, her finger tightening on the trigger.

  From just under her sternum, Kuriko’s torso seemed to explode. Blood splattered onto Nash and stained the entire front of Kuriko’s uniform as it poured from the enormous wound. A look of utter shock gripped her face. She glanced down at Nash with an absolutely stunned expression. Then her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell forward. From her back, bobbing back and forth was the shaft of a huge E’meset hunting spear.

  Coming down the bank of the river was a woman. She was dressed like an E’meset, but she was far too short and, though there was some color to her, it was much muted.

  She approached the body of the major and jerked the spear from her back. She then knelt next to the pilot and examined him.

  “Listen to me,” Nash said quickly in the girl’s native language, “My friend, an E’meset warrior, went into the forest just there. He was followed by two of her people. They may have already killed him.”

  The woman picked up Kuriko’s pistol and handed it to Nash. Rising, she said, “I will return.” She moved cautiously toward the tree line, then vanished into the blue.

  About twenty minutes passed, and in that time, Nash cleaned and applied a dressing to the injured pilot’s head. He also kept an eye on the trees, watching and listening for some clue as to what was happening. A movement caught Nash’s attention, and he looked back up the river. From the same direction the small E’meset woman had come, another female figure was approaching. This woman was undoubtedly E’meset. She was tall with bright colors and white hair.

  “Karmus onlet,” Nash greeted the woman. She was unarmed, but her face betrayed a woman not particularly pleased with the situation. Nash had no idea what her intentions might be.

  She stood above him and looking down asked, “Ukse tie Tuva?”

  Nash indicated the CDF insignia on his uniform and replied, “Tuva. Eh’Hemote, Tuva.” He told her he was definitely a friend.

  She looked down at him and said, “Sena E’meset po’who’wah?” She asked how well he spoke her language.

  In his best, most formal E’meset he said, “I do not speak well, but I can understand and can be understood.”

  “Then tell me, where is my daughter?”

  “Your daughter? She went into the blue, the woods, looking for my friend and two Ukse that went in after him.”

  “Give me your fist killer.”

  “My what?” Nash asked, confused.

  She indicated his pistol.

  “You know how to work it?”

  “I do,” she extended her hand.

  “You’re not going to use it on me, are you?”

  “Only if you have lied to me,” she said, sternly.

  He handed her the pistol and she bolted into the forest.

  Nash looked again up river to see if any more surprises were coming his way, then finished securing the dressing on Captain Willits’s head.

  Afterward, he turned to the remains of Corporal Jensen. He was perhaps all of twenty-two years old. No doubt, when he volunteered for this one-way mission to another world, he’d envisioned all sorts of adventure; beautiful alien women, strange creatures, bizarre surroundings. “Well, he got all that,” Nash said to himself. “Probably didn’t see himself with his head blown apart on the muddy banks of a river on the edge of a blue forest.” Nash pulled one of Jensen’s dog tags and pocketed it. “Just another casualty to my high mindedness.”

  Chapter 13

  THE L’LANSIE ROAD

  Nash saw Nista and Yalga return from the forest alone, but with their arms full of sticks, and what looked like long, dirty sweet potatoes.

  Nista began to build a fire, and Yalga returned to Nash. She handed him back the pistol.

  “You did not find Isso?” Nash asked in E’meset.

  “Isso?” The tall woman was greatly surprised. “You did not speak this name to my daughter,” It was not a question. “Do you speak of Isso Tekkmah from Kulan Kaus?”

  “I believe that is his dream name, yes. What has become of him?”

  “There was much blood, and a trail that led into the forest. But no dead. Not Ukse or E’meset.” She squatted down close to Nash and lowered her voice. “My daughter is Poh’palm meas. She is making Dal’Ekat for you. Hear me now…do not mention the name of your friend to her.”

  “Why?”

  “He was halo vat of her and she had been promised to him. He lost her in a duel with a Tuva. News of his death will pain her nonetheless. She has pain now that I do not understand. She needs no more.” The woman walked away.

  My God, Nash thought to himself, the little E’meset woman is the woman. She’s in love with Joe. Nash’s pain was no longer forefront in his mind. The agony she would suffer when she learned that both men were dead…he would have to tell her, but not now. As her mother had pointed out, she needed no more pain.

  ○O○

  Nista had diced up the roots, and using Nash’s canteen cup, boiled them down into a paste. She allowed the paste to cool and as it did, it expanded to nearly twice its size and became sponge-like. She then extracted it from the cup and went to the river where she dipped the sponge into the water. As she returned to where Nash lay, she squeezed the sponge over the cup and a murky ocher-colored liquid filled it.

  She knelt down beside Nash and helped him sit up. “You must drink this, despite its horrid taste. It will be easier if you drink it fast.”

  She watched him take a small sip through a hollow reed Nista had provided to slip under his respirator. His eyes lit up. “Wow,” he said, “it tastes like a screwdriver! Does this have alcohol in it?” There being no E’meset words for screwdriver or alcohol, Nash had used the English words.

  “I do not know your speech. Drink it, and, shortly, you will feel no pain. It is not La Vat Ay or even Eya’Etden Metoe’Ay, but it will take away the pain.” Nista was referring to the algae and the glowing water found in the bottom of the cave of hope that healed so very quickly.

  Nista repeated the process of filling and squeezing the sponge, then went to the pilot. She removed the field dressing Nash had applied, then, using the sponge, she scrubbed the wound on his head.

  Repeatedly, over the next hour, Nista slowly broke the seal on the unconscious man’s mask and with the reed, poured the ocher-colored liquid into the pilot’s mouth, allowing it to trickle down his throat. When it was half gone, Captain Willits began to wake.

  ○O○

  The captain opened his eyes slowly and into focus came her face. This woman’s eyes demanded his attention and received it. Her eyes were not typical of the E’meset. Rather than green, her eyes were a striking azure blue. It was when she turned and looked into his eyes that it happened. His lips parted as her pupils widened, and she seemed to look deep into him, as if her gaze revealed all that he ever was or ever would be. Then she smiled and all his pain faded away.

  Her lips slowly parted and she spoke. “Sena u’taw ohvo.”

  “Huh?” he asked and instantly felt like a juvenile.

  It was then he became aware of Nash who translated, “She said you have to drink that. It tastes like a screwdriver, and it takes the pain away.”

  “She said all that?”

  “Just drink it, Captain.”

  The captain took the cup from her, and in doing so, his
hand fell over her long delicate fingers. He paused a moment, and felt her warmth. “What’s your name?” he asked slowly.

  Her beautiful eyes searched his, and then she half-smiled, “I am called Nista Sel’emat.”

  “Oh, you speak English!”

  “Very little only. Not goodness. Me ah’kaw Esey?”

  The captain looked at Nash.

  “She asks your name.”

  “Oh…I’m Cap— I’m Joe Willits.”

  Nista stood up quickly and backed away from the captain with her eyes popping. She looked terrified. The captain was confused and upset not knowing what he’d said to evoke this response.

  “What did I say? I’m sorry!”

  Nash shouted out several words in E’meset, then translated for the captain. “I told her that among our people Joe is a very common name. You see, she knows another Joe.”

  Nista stopped and stood looking at the pilot oddly. “Ave eh hann’e olet?” she asked.

  Nash again translated, “She asked if you’re a ghost.”

  Nash spoke again to Nista, and then explained what he’d said, “I told her no, that you’re just a guy named Joe. I told her there are many Joes in New Roanoke, and many more back on Earth.”

  Nista responded with a sentence at a hundred miles an hour.

  “She said,” Nash spoke for her, “that she cannot call you Joe. Instead she will call you, Lentavat aya, he who flies.”

  “Well, that’s sure a mouthful.”

  Nista approached the captain and said, “Min ahseaten soyta sen ah Lent luehu en.”

  Nash chuckled.

  “What?” The pilot asked as Nista again began to rub the injury on his head with the sponge.

  “She said she knows we like little names so she will call you Lent, for short. From now on, Captain, that’s your moniker… Lent.”

  ○O○

  That night, Nista and her mother built a good-sized fire on the banks of the river. It served two purposes, it would keep the night hunters at bay ― most of them ― and it was a signal to the Keheber Das E’meset. The fire, and the occasional loud noise the women took turns emitting, was a call for help.

  In the middle of the night as Nash and Lent slept, dozens of eastern E’meset appeared before the fire, one by one.

  The drink, the Dal’Ekat, which Nista had insisted they keep drinking, placed the two humans into a state of half- awareness, like dreaming with their eyes open.

  Because Nash and Lent were such dead weight, it took Nista, Yalga and the eastern E’meset almost a week of walking, both day and night, to reach U’alline toy e’vahn, the cave of hope. And another twenty hours to negotiate the serpentine labyrinth that led down to Koor adusa Eya’Etee Ki Kee, the chamber where lay the great ponds of glowing water and algae.

  ○O○

  After the ceremony and the healing, Nash and Lent got dressed and sat on the floor, still a little groggy from the repeated doses of Dal’Ekat.

  “Who undressed us?” Lent asked.

  “Must have been them,” Nash said, indicating the women who had walked to the other side of the pool. “The other E’meset didn’t stay.” Nash noticed Lent blushing.

  “Hey, look,” Nash rose and took a few steps away where he picked up a bloody bandage.

  Lent rose and looked around, there were a great many bloody bandages of all sizes scattered about the cavern. “What is this?” he asked.

  “The wounded from the battle at the factory. They were all brought here to be healed.”

  Nash and Lent spent a few minutes picking up the litter.

  Lent looked up and across the pond. “Captain Rastaban, do you know those two women?” he asked.

  “I know of them.”

  “The young one, with the blue eyes, is she single?”

  “Yes, but she doesn’t know it yet.”

  “Huh?”

  “Lent, I have to give that girl some very bad news. The man she loved was killed in the fighting. I don’t have any idea how she will take this, but I need you to just give her some room, okay?”

  “Yes, sir,” Lent replied, lowering his head.

  “Hey…from now on, it’s Nash; after all, we’re both captains.” They shook hands, and Nash turned to look at the two women.

  “Good luck, Nash.” Lent murmured then sat down and leaned against the cave wall.

  “Thanks.”

  Across the chamber, Nash saw Nista and Yalga on their knees in prayer to Lu’aya.

  He waited respectfully about five meters away.

  When they rose, they both turned to face him. There was no sneaking up on these two. In E’meset he said, “May I speak to you? Both of you?”

  “Yes, Nash. We will speak.” Yalga said knowingly.

  “Please join me over here,” Nash had spotted a place where several very large stones lay some distance away from Lent. Here, he sat the two women down around a large outcrop of glowing Volessa stone.

  Nash noted that Yalga looked very concerned, but Nista’s face was stoic and void of expression.

  Nash sat and summoned his best E’meset. “Nista, I speak now to you in the presence of your mother, here in the heart of Eya’Etee Ki Kee, and under the eye and in the gentle hand of Lu’aya.”

  “Speak the words Nash,” Nista said. Nash wondered if she already knew what he was about to tell her.

  “Nista,” Nash took a deep breath, “Joe has passed into the forest of great joy.”

  Her face did not change expression, but just perceptibly she began to shake and great tears formed in her eyes.

  “How did he die?” she asked.

  “Like a warrior…saving the lives of three others.”

  “At whose hand?”

  “That man, an Ukse, is dead at the hand of one of his own. But Joe’s killer acted on the orders of the woman you killed with the spear back at the river.”

  “He is avenged then?”

  “Yes. You gave him that.”

  “To repay death with death is not a good thing. At the river, I killed to save you.”

  “And I thank you for that,” Nash said.

  Nista sat quietly a moment before tears began to stream down her cheeks, though she remained expressionless. She cast her eyes upward. “He died thinking I did not love him.”

  “No, Nista, that is not true,” Nash said. “He spoke to me often about you, and his last words to me were a request that I find you and explain; at your last meeting, he was confused and afraid. I told him of my love for my wife who was E’meset. Joe searched his soul and Lu’aya showed him the light. He had feared what others of our kind might say or do to you, but he came to understand that love denied is the end of life.

  “Nista, he told me that when the fight with the Ukse ended, he would search for you. He would go to the Fish, and to Vahn’Ha Poh. He planned to cross the eastern mountains. He told me he would not stop until he found you, if it took him all the days of his life. He asked that all who had heard about you two be told of his quest to regain your love.”

  “Regain?” Nista gasped. “He never lost my love. I must travel to Onellametsa Porr tie and show him my love so that he may be free and go beyond the gates.” Her tears flowed freely.

  “Nista,” Nash asked, “did you know?”

  “I felt his death. In the center of my back a pain raced through me and my heart screamed. Joe’s breath was no longer in my lungs. I made note of Ourinco’s place in the sky, and will honor that place always.”

  Nista then rose and walked alone to a pool and waded out into its glowing waters. Here she stood silently and prayed.

  ○O○

  The first of the veterans of the western force made their way back to New Roanoke riding in the PCs and bringing the wounded with them.

  In the V-tols, the badly wounded were loaded for the trip to U’alline toy e’vahn and its healing waters. The remainder of the entire force, all the E’meset, Tuva, and their prisoners were making their way back on foot and bringing with them their dead to b
e interred in the New Roanoke cemetery.

  The victorious allies moved slowly. All of them were both mentally and physically exhausted.

  Many of the colonists fell by the wayside, too tired to continue. The E’meset lifted them into their arms and carried them like children.

  The PCs arrived mid-afternoon the following day after their late departure from the factory. Those on foot would arrive in two days’ time.

  Tanny and Day’Ka watched the PCs roll down the side of the soft blue field to the south of the city from the observation dome in Nash’s condo. Day’Ka was nervous, excited, and a little afraid.

  “There are so few of them,” he noted with intense worry in his voice.

  “The few remaining PCs could not hold everyone.” Tanny said. “Knowing your father, he is setting the example and bringing up the rear.”

  As they watched, the little specks moved across the distant field looking like a line of ants. Nearing the great wall of the colony, the vehicles turned and followed the old clinic trail around toward the eastern gate.

  Tanny’s COMde sounded in her head. It was the mayor’s office calling. She activated it, and with a trembling voice answered, “Doctor Austrini, here.”

  A young man’s voice spoke. “Doctor, Mr. and Mrs. Mitchel would like to see you and Mr. Day Care at your earliest convenience. What time can I tell them you’ll be here?”

  “Tell them we are on our way right now.”

  As they were exiting the condo, Tanny told Day’Ka about the invitation. She was plainly very worried.

  “Do not be afraid. We feared at the last meeting and father was all right.”

  Tanny agreed, but recalled that death had still been a part of that message.

  ○O○

  At city hall, they still received a few stares. They approached the reception desk and Tanny started to identify the two of them to the young man seated there when he said, “No need for that, ma’am. We know who you are. Right this way.” He pushed a button and the door to the right opened. Before they could pass through it, a woman in a lab coat got up from her seat in the waiting area and spoke to Day’Ka.