Radiant (40 page)

"Which was Kaisho's homeworld," Festina said. "I remember her once telling me... fuck."

"What?"

"Five years ago—after she'd been infected by the Balrog. Kaisho and I were talking about something else, when all of a sudden she told me she was the only Explorer ever to come from her world. She mentioned it completely out of the blue. When I asked why she'd brought it up, she said I'd figure it out someday." Pause. "By which she must have meant today. Damn, I hate precognitive aliens!"

"So Kaisho's the only Explorer from Shin'nihon, and I'm the only Explorer from Anicca. The odds are good we're the only Buddhists ever to join the corps."

Festina nodded. "There've only been a few thousand Explorers since the corps began... and most were drawn from the core worlds, where it's hard to find
any
religion beyond the usual vague sentiments."

She broke into another jog, while I returned to thoughts of Kaisho. If she and I were the only two Buddhists who'd ever become Explorers... and both of us had been taken by the Balrog... what did that mean? That Buddhists were better suited to the experience? That we could handle it better because of our mental discipline? That we were easier to invade because we were more open?

Or maybe just that our flesh tasted sweet from being lifelong vegetarians.

Of course, Kaisho followed Zen—a different tradition from my own Tarayana. But the two traditions had much in common. Zen had been a significant influence in the early days of Tarayana... and since that time, there'd been cordial relations between the two, allowing for a degree of intermingling and convergence. Different roots but not so different in modern practice.

Zen and Tarayana. Kaisho and me. Avatars of the Balrog. Why?

"It has to mean something," Festina said. "Five years ago, Kaisho made sure I knew. Unless the Balrog was just playing games: trying to make us think there's significance when there isn't. Taking another Buddhist woman to fool us into believing there's a pattern."

I opened my mouth to say I didn't like being consumed, physically and mentally, just so the Balrog could create a false mystique about its actions. But even as that thought glowered in my mind, a different one arose:
So what?

So what?

So what?

A thing had happened. I wouldn't have chosen this fate if I'd been given the option, but so what? Life was full of unasked-for results. Sometimes you got sick; sometimes you got hurt; sometimes you got a windfall success from pure unadulterated luck. Or from karma. Karma was something we all had to live with: a web of cause and effect so vast that no one could fathom it.

So what?

So what?

So what?

So what if my life had irreparably changed... for an important reason, a trivial reason, or no reason at all? Change happened to everybody, all the time—sometimes devastating change through no fault of your own. Sixty-five hundred years ago, a Fuentes scientist had made a mistake (possibly major, possibly minor) and ever since, millions of beings had been unjustly condemned to endure a
preta
purgatory. Maybe our party would join them; maybe we'd somehow save them. Rescuing people was better than getting trapped ourselves... but there'd always be more trouble, new trouble, one thing after another, and no one could dodge every bullet.

So what? What to do? What could
anyone
do?

Simple. You did what you could, in the here and now. Nothing else was possible.

The past was past. Remember, but let it go.

The future was not yet with us. Wise people planned and prepared, but didn't obsess.

All anyone has is the present. Live there.

It sounds so trite when put into words. Stock phrases everyone has heard a thousand times. But in those few moments, as I bounced along on Festina's shoulder, the words fell away like shabby clothing to reveal pure nonverbal reality. As if words were like a boat that had helped me across some river. Now I was on the other side, and could proceed forward without assistance. No words, no platitudes, just inexpressible realization: unvarnished unspeakable truth.

A path you can identify as a path isn't The Path. A truth you can put into words isn't true enough.

Thus I experienced a wordless release while Festina carted me down a game trail in the middle of a rainstorm.

So what? Why fixate? Be free.

Don't ask why it happened then; how can such a thing be explained? And I realized this brief flash of freedom might be the Balrog's work. Regions of the brain's temporal lobe can be stimulated to create artificial feelings of spiritual awe. The spores in my head could have granted me a bloom of the numinous to distract me from other trains of thought, to keep me quiet, or simply to toy with me... the way you scratch a dog's belly and laugh at how much the dog likes it.

But I accepted that. I could live with it, as I could live with all the universe's other ambiguities. Would getting upset solve anything? Would it improve my life or anyone else's? No. So let it go.

Let it go.

Let everything go.

I told Festina about my sixth sense. How it let me perceive at a distance: the
pretas,
the Rexies, Tut and the diplomats. How I could sense a person's life force, including hidden emotions. How, back in Drill-Press, I'd overextended my brain and ended up with spores replacing much of my gray matter.

In other words, I told the truth. Up till then, I'd clutched my secrets as if they were rubies everyone else wanted to steal... but that furtive privacy had just been ego. The terror of being vulnerable. A desire to keep an ace up my sleeve. The dread of being chided for withholding important facts.

Disclosing the truth didn't hurt me. Why should I have thought otherwise? And Festina didn't react badly. She'd stopped trusting me long ago, and she knew the Balrog had senses beyond the human norm. I was telling her nothing she hadn't already considered. Her aura showed no self-consciousness at my ability to see beneath her defenses. Instead of getting flustered, she shifted into a virtually emotionless state, thinking through possibilities. I couldn't read her mind, but I believed she was debating how to use me: like a new kind of Bumbler, capable of scanning uncharted spectra.

If nothing else, she let me guide her on the shortest route back to Tut. The trip took slightly longer than expected, because Tut's group had stopped moving forward—they'd reached a clear area on the Grindstone's bank and had stopped while Li fussed about something. I could have eavesdropped to determine the exact nature of his complaint, but his aura revealed that the specifics didn't matter. Ambassador Li was cold, wet, and angry. He felt useless as Tut found trails and Ubatu ripped through foliage, so he latched onto some flimsy pretext to raise a fuss. Just to get attention.

Li couldn't stand being ignored. I saw that he bullied people out of loneliness... and how could I not sympathize? Hadn't I done ridiculous things for the same reason? Still, it didn't make his behavior any less obnoxious; and in this case, Li's grandstanding might have disastrous results. I'd calculated our travel times based on the assumption that Tut and the diplomats would keep trekking ahead. Unfortunately, they'd remained on that riverbank five whole minutes while Li cursed and stomped about. It would therefore take Festina and me five extra minutes to reach them... which meant the Rexies might get there first.

I would have told Festina to drop me and go on alone, but that wouldn't help. My weight slowed her down, but my sixth sense compensated by showing the fastest routes. We were already going as fast as we could.

So were the Rexies.

The bank where Li was having his tantrum rose three meters above the water below: a low weedy cliff overlooking the river. The top of the bank was mostly chalk-white grass growing ankle high... but here and there, slightly taller red ferns had put down roots, where they stood out like blood drops on snow. Not that a normal human eye could discern the color—it was full night now, and with rain clouds blocking the stars, the darkness hung as thick as a velvet blindfold. Only my sixth sense let me perceive more than shades of gray in the ponderous black. (Festina carried a chemical glow-tube, tied in a loop round her belt. Tut and the others, however, had no light at all: one of the many things Li was railing at. "Stumbling blind through this stinking bush. I
hate
the smell of mustard!")

The darkness must have impeded the Rexies too—they were built for daytime hunting, so their eyes were relatively small, not the bulging orbs needed for regular nocturnal prowls. Still, the killer-beasts were driven by
pretas
who seemed unhindered by lack of light. Whatever senses the EMP clouds possessed, they could keep the Rexies on track despite the night and the rain. Perhaps the
pretas
had some limited form of the Balrog's mental awareness; that might have been a "gift" they'd received from their incomplete ascension. But whatever their abilities, the clouds were nowhere near the Balrog's omniscience. They couldn't, for example, perceive the spores inside me... which is why the Rexies were going after Tut instead of straight for me.

Three Rexies: two in front, one behind. As I've said, the
pretas
planned to catch Tut and the diplomats using pincer tactics, with the rear Rexy driving the prey into ambush by the two others. The two at the front had taken good pouncing positions a short distance up the trail, in a region of bush where tall ferns provided more cover than the low foliage on the bank. But as Festina and I approached, the
pretas
must have realized they wouldn't be able to spring their trap—our route would bring us to the two lurking Rexies before the third Rexy was in position. Festina would have time to stun the two predators, leaving only one Rexy to attack.

Furthermore, the remaining Rexy couldn't rely on surprise. It would have to charge across the open area of the bank, letting Tut and the others see it coming. At that point, the odds would be three humans to one pseudosuchian in a straight-up, in-the-clear fight. Human blood would surely be spilled, but the Rexy just wasn't big enough or strong enough to guarantee total victory. Tut was the same size as the predator, and Ubatu was slightly taller. Together, they might batter the Rexy into unconsciousness before it ripped out their throats.

Which meant if the
pretas
wanted surefire kills, they needed a new plan. They opted for simplicity: a massed assault. The Rexies in front broke away from their ambush positions and raced toward the bank, as the one at the rear did the same.

"Drop me," I told Festina. "Now you have to run."

Ubatu heard them first, thanks to her bioengineered hearing. But the Rexies made no effort to be silent, and within seconds even Li picked up the sounds of human-sized dinosaurs crashing through the foliage. The diplomats stared blindly into the dark, straining for a glimpse of their attackers... but Tut, with a grin on his face, didn't bother to look. Instead, he pulled on the bear mask and flexed his fingers like claws. Softly he whispered, "Grr-arrh."

Meanwhile, Festina sprinted toward the scene. The light on her belt let her see well enough to set a fast pace, and the trail she was following led straight to the open riverbank. She wouldn't get there before the Rexies; but if Tut and the diplomats could withstand the first assault—even if they just dodged or ran for cover—Festina would do the rest.

Provided she didn't get killed in the process. Her stun-pistol could fell a Rexy with only a few shots, but it wouldn't handle three at once.

I myself was out of the picture. Festina had set me down on the trail, and I sat there, seeing everything, doing nothing. Not yet. There would come a moment when I'd have to... no, I dismissed the thought. The future had not yet arrived; all I had was the present.

A present in which people were fighting for their lives.

All three Rexies screeched simultaneously: their piercing eaglelike cry. Tut screeched back, imitating the sound; a moment later, Ubatu did too. Her aura flickered with fearful hope she might frighten the animals off... but Tut was just shrieking for the fun of it.

The Rexies were not intimidated. As they reached the open bank, they screeched once again in unison; then they charged.

Tut went for the one in the rear. I thought he might try the clothesline maneuver again, since it worked so well in Drill-Press... but Tut never used the same trick twice. Instead, as he and the Rexy converged, he suddenly dropped to the dripping-wet grass and slid forward on his butt, easily passing under the snapping bite aimed at his face. If the Rexy had reacted quickly, it might have jumped on top of Tut with its great clawed feet, gouging his entrails with a few brisk swipes; but neither the dim-witted dinosaur nor the EMP clouds possessing it had been prepared for Tut's move. He slid on by, then spun to his feet with a helicopter swing of his legs. Half a second later, he'd jumped on the Rexy's back: one arm around its throat, the other pushing its head forward to expose its spine.

Then he slammed the bear mask's muzzle against the back of the Rexy's neck.

For a moment, I didn't understand what he was doing. Then I realized he thought he could bite through the dinosaurs vertebrae... as if he really
was
the mask he wore, able to snap with the sharp white fangs like a genuine bear. He'd have done more damage if he used his own teeth—the mask's jaw was locked in place so it couldn't open or close. When Tut smashed it up against the Rexy, all he did was dent the mask's nose.

But.

The Rexy wasn't built to carry a man-sized weight on its back... especially not on slippery wet grass while homicidal clouds interfered with its normal mental functions. The animal lost its footing and went down with a wailing cry. The cry ended when something went pop: the deceptively soft sound of bones breaking. Tut's bite had done nothing effective, but with his right arm around the Rexy's throat and his left still exerting forward pressure, the extra momentum of the fall had snapped the beast's neck.

For a moment, the Rexy's life force was nothing but anger: an outraged fire, furious for Tut's blood. Then the aura changed to confusion and fear; the panic of an animal discovering it can no longer move its limbs or tell its lungs to breathe. Perhaps outwardly, the Rexy looked dead—motionless, heart stopped—but inwardly, its brain would take minutes to die with the blood in its skull growing stale. Smoke leaked from the creature's mouth as the
pretas
who'd driven the animal to its fate now fled. The Rexy would die alone... bewildered by what was happening, frightened of being powerless, eventually slipping into stoic numbness as it waited for the end.