Prophecy (2 page)

The Personal Transport Vehicle was tossed mercilessly by the gale as it attempted to stabilize itself.

“Inadvisable to proceed. Correct course now,
”
droned the mechanical monotone emanating from the PTV’s on-line processor.

“Received and acknowledged.” Ton Re’Sateron spoke through gritted teeth. “Maintain current coordinates as instructed.”

“Continuing present course is imprudent. Destination may be reached utilizing less hazardous approach. Relinquish manual control.”

“Flame you, cease whining and
maintain your present course
!”

Battling the two-hundred-fifty mile winds howling around it, the PTV made instantaneous and continuous corrections in an attempt to keep from crashing into the Ephres Ridge. The gale tossed it from side to side then tried to upend it by butting the tail end from below while hammering the nose from above. Sizzling jags of lightning repeatedly struck the craft, its protective energy shield sparkling as it stumbled and lurched like a Saturday night drunk.

Ton Re’Sateron gnashed his teeth and snarled, his fist slamming down on the armrest. The changes he had made to the ship’s intelligence matrix were proving insufficient.

It was not the first time he questioned the sanity of the Builders in creating intelligent modules that harped and scolded incessantly if one attempted something unconventional. This sniveling lump of holoformed composites wished only to arrive at its destination by the least harmful—and boring—route.

Once again, Sateron was thwarted from entering his laboratory by the most direct route. With an elaborate sigh, he relinquished control with a jab at the panel array. Instantly the PTV nosed south, then upward, clearing the worst of the maelstrom.

The frustration etched on the Anorasian’s face gave way to a frown of annoyance which then softened to acceptance as his craft hovered motionlessly above the west bank of the gorge. This archaic form of transportation, albeit mandatory for travel between the three sister planets of the Zubeln star system, stretched his already limited patience. Yet he was exhilarated, having pit his combative strategies against the maniacal winds bent on his obliteration.

Not one to readily admit defeat, he nevertheless considered himself courageous, not imprudent. He would no longer attempt the shorter route by entering into contest with the Agrist K’anna, this gorge too fierce an opponent even for his considerable talents. As with any formidable foe he saluted, acknowledging its superiority. He would need to find another outlet to vent the disappointment caused by his failure to extract even one living cell from Noreptal’s long-extinct riverway. His need to ascertain that life had existed on one, two, or all three of the sister planets was paramount to his experiments.

The Personal Transport Vehicle sped southward, eating up the ten-mile distance to the canyon’s entrance. When it reached its destination it slowed, dipped then banked sharply to the left as it slipped into the narrow opening. Once inside, it picked up speed heading north, returning controls to Sateron.

From bedrock to approximately one thousand feet up, only a quarter of a mile separated the Ephres Ridge from the Piseda Ridge, its twin to the east. At this level, the blow did not have room to whip up into anything more than an uninteresting breeze of twenty-five miles-per-hour.

Nonetheless, the trip to the lab entrance was not without some adventure. The way was punctuated by precision maneuvers around lethal rock projections—sharp turns left, quick rotations right, and shortcuts over a quartz labyrinth that took the Anorasian into more exciting turbulence, accompanied by the ever-present puling monotone of the PTV chiding him for recklessness.

Midpoint of the twenty-five mile long chasm, the craft quickly ascended two thousand feet. Though the blast was substantially stronger here, the vehicle bumped negligibly as it approached its destination. The savage wind Sateron had attempted to defeat was approximately five hundred feet up from the lab entrance, its howls echoing against the canyon walls as it tried to lure him into its playground. He grinned, declining the challenge.

The craft turned sharply left and decelerated. Ahead, the chasm wall. Just as it seemed they would be dashed against the solid stone, the alien’s eyes narrowed. His psychic signal sent to an unseen array was accepted ... and his individual imprint caused the unyielding rock face to shimmer. The illusion of the rock further weakened and the holographic image of the wall—held in stasis by a Protective Energy Array—disappeared.

Leaving behind the dust and debris of the chasm, the craft glided through the PEA, its form outlined in a faint purple glow as it displaced the energy field.

Inside and recognized, the automated tractor system drew the craft along a path of sequential red lights until it stopped one hundred feet from the entrance. Rotating ninety degrees, the PTV was slowly drawn back into its cradle. The vehicle’s eight landing legs protracted, sliding into the cradle’s matching eight-hole sequence where it was secured and locked down.

The cradle’s request processor queried the intelligence matrix on board the PTV for any damage recorded during flight, prepared to alert a maintenance android if necessary. The energy shield around the vehicle had not been breached; only one field array was found slightly weakened. No other abnormalities were recorded that the matrix could not correct itself. The field array damage was noted in the maintenance log by the request processor with no immediacy attached.

The Zubeln star system consisted of two C1 gas giants and three C5 planets—Ashtawr, Izorach and Noreptal—none of which had ever been colonized by the Anorasians, or so it appeared in the data archives relevant to the Empire’s history. Mystified, Ton Re’Sateron and his colleague, Ton Re’Aleris, found no record of exploration concerning these three planets, a condition unheard of for a race that even colonized inhospitable planets.

Further, through mathematical analysis, authenticated data, and common sense, Sateron and Aleris were able to make a most disturbing postulation that entire segments of statistics concerning the genetic development of their race were missing. In addition, the accidental discovery of an uncharted star system twelve thousand years prior—and what they discovered on one of its planets—was more than baffling, it was shocking.

The two Anorasian geneticists needed to build a laboratory where experiments could be conducted on the living matter of one of these newly-discovered planets. It took the aliens several thousand years to complete their facility, requisitioning small amounts of construction material at a time ... a necessary precaution so as not to arouse suspicion. Both knew their fate; withholding of the dicit and ultimate extermination if the Min’yel’os discovered them conducting unsanctioned experimentation. They chose the planet Izorach and gouged a hole in the Ephres Ridge for their laboratory.

Izorach: uninhabitable and unworthy of colonization due to being physically dangerous and emotionally draining.

Izorach: psychically disruptive, an abhorrent quality for a race of high level psychics.

Izorach: perfect for their needs.

An impenetrable shield surrounding the entire planet prevented psychic interference
.
The shield was created by quartz and tourmaline crystals imbedded in the granite walls of the Agrist K’anna, protruding from the canyon walls in all directions and ranging in length from several inches to several feet. As rock and mineral repeatedly bombarded these crystals, their piezoelectric property caused enough voltage to produce continuous lightning discharges and tremendous surges of electromagnetic interference.

If that were not enough, Izorach itself had an exceptionally strong magnetic field that trapped huge amounts of particles emitted by its sun. This produced a kaleidoscope of breathtaking colors, a spectacular visual image caused by an atmospheric event of gyrating colors comparable to the Caore Ba’arel on Hakilam, their home world.

Thus the combination of these titanic discharges caused by the interaction of the ion particles with the magnetic field and the never-ending emissions from the three hundred or so gorges produced a natural psychic interference from without.

Of these numerous craters, the Agrist K’anna was not only the largest of them all, it was the most ferocious and appalling. The winds were so fierce that no craft, no matter its size or propulsion, could penetrate without being destroyed. The lightning jags were stupendous, some an inch thick. Boulders were tossed about as if they were helium balloons. Once sucked into the winds, nothing could survive.

Sateron powered down the propulsion system and snapped off the seat harness while simultaneously thumbing the door panel lock. As he swung his seven foot frame out of the seat, his self-regulating garment stretched accommodatingly, allowing him ease of movement as he trotted toward the rear of the hanger.

Passing through a Vectored Energy Field that led into his personal quarters, he turned immediately to the right. His eyes narrowed. Another VEF weakened briefly ... and he stepped into a tropical forest. Sateron paused a moment to enjoy the sensation of moist, warm air on his face. He inhaled deeply, the smell of lush foliage tantalizing, seductive. As he stood in the dappled light that filtered through the tree branches he grinned, his slightly pointed teeth starkly white against the deep mahogany color of his skin.

Extremely satisfied, Sateron trotted down one of the many paths of varicolored plants. All here was well. When the trail came to a fork, he followed the fuchsia ground cover to the left, arriving at his destination three minutes later: a grove of ancient quercus trees set back several feet from the path.

These trees first sprouted when the planet was forming. They were unassuming; only ten to fifteen feet in height. But they held a magnificent mystery. Clinging in abundance to the tree limbs were moss-like entities in clusters, their pale willow green color striking against the bark’s blood-red hue. Sateron was not sure if there was a symbiotic relationship between the tree and the moss because the branches twisted themselves into depressions just large enough to accommodate each cluster.

He entered the grove and leaned toward the nearest cluster, grinning triumphantly. The Eocene dicit’ledoni not only survived, it flourished. The entity closest to him quivered slightly then rose slowly until its entire body formed a slight arc. Sateron’s eyes gleamed. The dicit appeared to acknowledge his presence.

The dicit was a stunning discovery. It corroborated their theory that the biologically-engineered and mass-produced dicit grown in incubation vats on Hakilam had once existed in a natural state. It was just another enigma to solve as they moved toward their goal: to find the missing data that would explain the nearly arrested development of their race.

Just one more indication of the subterfuge perpetrated by the Min’yel’os
he thought, a fierce scowl momentarily twisting his face.

As he continued to admire the moss, he felt the psychic touch of his colleague, requesting his presence at the MERS, the Mobile Exploratory Research Station. Straightening, he depressed the first button on his transport belt. A protective energy shield enveloped him instantly. The blue-white glow of the HST, the Hyperspatial Transport surrounded the energy shield as the gravitational drive caused him to rise a few inches off the ground. When he became obscured by the glow’s intensity, he disappeared, the corridor in space created by the HST diminishing to pinpoint size before vanishing. A soft sucking sound ... and air rushed in to fill the vacuum created by his absence. With a muted
swshswsh
, the blue-white light of the HST expanded in the MERS until it reached full size. Ton Re’Sateron gently touched down before his partner as the light and its corridor vanished.

“I am here. Is there urgency?” His rumbling bass filled with curiosity addressed his colleague. Ton Re’Aleris, with skin the color of cinnamon, was nearly as tall as he but not nearly as broad, commanding attention through strength of character and wisdom rather than impressive mass.

Sateron’s brows rose questioningly as he felt Aleris hesitate, obviously searching for appropriate words. In the silence, the dark-skinned Anorasian turned his gaze on the three humans to his right. Their inability to make eye contact made his spine quiver and his heart pulse with low heat. His insatiable curiosity quickened as he gently probed his partner’s mind—and found himself uncharacteristically blocked. Then Aleris spoke.

“Emmanuel has something he wishes to disclose.”

Sateron fought the urge to forcibly suck the information from Aleris’ mind. Feigning disinterest, he said, “You are in disquiet. Take time to prepare. We will speak at last meal.”

His nonchalance fooled no one. Ton Re’Sateron never had a great deal of patience, being as quick to please as to anger. His colleague, however, needed to measure each word with reason and logic, sometimes causing Sateron to growl with impatience. Nonetheless, to rush the deliberate one was useless. The facts would be presented when ready, regardless of his agitation.

Aleris psychically sent the information. Stunned, Sateron turned to face the three humans, his eyes boring into the one directly before him.

“You have done what? Moreover, why have you waited until now to tell me?”

He stood with his feet braced apart, his arms folded across his broad chest. Normally his face was animated; it now appeared chiseled from the same granite as the walls of the chasm. His thin lips were compressed, his mouth no more than a slash across his face, the muscles in his jaws bulging with the clenching of his teeth. An unfathomable look smoldered in his silver eyes. Every inch of him was solid ... and dangerous.

“The situation was most grave, Sateron. Exceptionally grave. I felt her death imminent did I not act immediately.” Emmanuel found himself babbling but could not seem to stop. “I would never have taken it upon myself to act in such haste were I able to contact either of you. I sought not only to nullify the poison she ingested but to relieve her suffering. Her
mental
suffering. That which caused her to take the poison.” Emmanuel tried to ignore his quivering stomach though his eyes never wavered as he stared into those of Sateron, conviction and rightness warring with fear and apprehension.

Sateron was intimidating when angry. Now, his fury was awesome. He stood like a statue; never a good sign. Stomping around, punching the air with his fists, bellowing until the walls vibrated—those were his normal mannerisms. The three humans well knew their host could flare up like a shooting star in the heavens then fizzle once his passion was exhausted. But this absence of emotion was unnerving; was, in fact, more frightening by its strangeness.

Quietly, deadly, the alien breathed. “So.
You
decide to alleviate the mental illness she suffers by administering the dicit. Without the knowledge of effect. Without experimentation of dosage. Without an understanding of potential contraindications.”

Emmanuel’s two companions stood behind him. They were with Ton Re’Aleris when their soul brother made the decision for which he was now being chastised. That they agreed completely lent an air of solidarity to the trio.

Off to Emmanuel’s right, al-Amin took a determined step forward and grasped Emmanuel’s arm, lending physical reinforcement as he sent a psychic wave of support. The youngest of the three, he stared boldly at Sateron, his look meant to imply concurrence of the action taken.

At the same moment, Siddhartha moved closer, resting his hand on Emmanuel’s shoulder, also psychically offering commiseration and another pair of eyes alight with conviction.

Sateron’s gaze flickered briefly over these two, his expression unreadable. Then he ignored them. His attention centered only on the one who had committed the deed.

Emmanuel’s face was a study in determination; his spine straight with confidence, passion shining in his eyes. He might be frightened for his personal safety, but it was obvious he would not apologize for his act of love and compassion. He had faced formidable critics of his independent nature before.

The Anorasian seemed to grow in height before their eyes, an illusion accompanied by an electrostatic charge in the air that caused the hair on their arms to shiver. Emmanuel could feel the accelerated heartbeats of Siddhartha and al-Amin as adrenaline suffused their bodies in sympathetic accord.

His tone silky, Sateron purred, “When my desire to begin her education from childhood was not sanctioned by all, I acquiesced, even though I possess vast knowledge and superlative instincts.” The feeble glow from the vid-screen caused his silver eyes to appear translucent, as if the elongated pupils were suspended in the eye sockets without anchor. Emmanuel continued to meet the Anorasian’s gaze, all the while quaking inside. Aleris stepped into the circle of faint light, neither joining Sateron in condemnation nor offering support to the human.

The geneticist continued, his teeth now visible. “When her psychic adeptness increased, again I counseled for intervention.
Again
I was thwarted, and
again
I bowed to the majority even though I knew I was in the right.” They all remembered the night Aleris persuaded him to continue studying the human female’s cerebral growth without intervention.

Emmanuel winced; he had championed the arguments for their continuation along the same path.

The air became thick with charged particles, their breaths quickening as Sateron shook with suppressed outrage. They never knew a whisper could penetrate like a shout.

“Now—
Now
... we are out of communication range ... and you conclude ...
you
decide ...
YOU
take it upon yourself to tamper with her code!”

Al-Amin and Siddhartha shifted closer to Emmanuel. They would stand by their soul brother and face the consequences as one, an unbreakable bond having been formed over the centuries.

Since all their attention centered on Sateron, no one observed the twinkle in Aleris’ light emerald eyes. The geneticist finally spoke in a mildly reproachful tone.

“Enough, Sateron. Have done with your amusement.”

Before this registered on the humans, they heard a slight rumble. It grew in intensity, a grin suddenly lighting the face of he who moments before had mayhem carved in his features. Reverberations filled the air and their knees nearly buckled, such was their relief. Ton Re’Sateron was laughing! Glancing at those sharply pointed teeth bared in a wolfish grin, Siddhartha was not sure this was an improvement, but he accepted what was evident. The vibrating air had calmed and his statically charged hair had settled back on his body.

Sateron grinned at Emmanuel with unconcealed admiration and indulgent paternity then sent a psychic wave of immense enjoyment at his own prank. Siddhartha felt Emmanuel draw in a shaky breath while he and al-Amin exchanged a look of understanding.

“Well done, young one.” the Anorasian boomed in high spirits. “I applaud your initiative. Better to have collaborated before the doing, but I am most pleased with your enterprise. Naturally! After all, it was whatI desired all along.”

With eyes on his colleague, Ton Re’Sateron said, “Excellent. Superb. Now we begin to record meticulously. No question; here lies a myriad of unknowns. For the present, we will continue our course of noninterference.” He paused. Receiving a nod from Aleris, his eyes scintillated with excitement.

“We approach our conclusion eagerly yet cautiously. We need much more data. However, I am certain we proceed correctly.”