Worlds Away (6 page)

9

Kulsat
Ship :

Centauri
System :

Justine couldn’t
think
straight. A cold chill ran through her entire body.

You are to be expiring.

They were going to extract information from her and then
kill her.

“No,” she said. “I’m not going to cooperate.”

The alien typed. “Where is your kind to be living? How many
are they being? How many are Risen? Describe your discovery of the Gift.”

Instead of answering, Justine shook her head, though she
wasn’t certain the Kulsat could interpret the gesture.

“We have biology information. Your kind does not see. Why do
you motion respond?”

He thought all humans were blind, based on Justine’s
condition. She wasn’t about to correct his wrong assumption.

The alien typed. “Why does your kind have eyes, if you do
not see? Are you unit-defective?”

The Kulsat were obviously an intelligent species, and
Justine assumed this one would eventually figure it out, but she wasn’t about
to speed up the process.

“Biology information,” the machine voice said. “Your kind is
to be communicating with sound. We require testing.”

A low humming sound filled Justine’s tank, growing louder
and louder until she felt the vibrations go through her body. The intensity
increased. Her muscles began to ache, as if she’d just run a marathon. Unsteady
on her feet, she had to lie down.

The sound waves pounded through her, and she started feeling
nauseated. Her heart beat erratically, as if trying to match the pulse of the
vibrations.

She let out a groan, and held her stomach as every nerve in
her body ignited in pain.

The low hum changed, rising in pitch. The sound waves no
longer affected her body, but her hearing. She clapped her hands over her ears.
It felt as if her eardrums were going to burst. If the torture continued, she
would lose her hearing, and she would be deaf and blind.

The agony grew, and as much as she tried to hold it in, she
couldn’t bear it anymore.

“Stop!” she screamed. “Enough!”

The sound abruptly stopped, but there was a persistent
ringing in Justine’s ears. She rubbed around her lobes and moved her jaw to
increase blood and air flow.

“Sound communication able to be causing discomfort,” the
machine voice said. “You are to be cooperating, or there is to be additional
discomfort.”

The alien was going to torture her with sound waves. Justine
didn’t know how much of that she could take before he broke her, or before he
went too far and ruptured either her eardrums or another internal organ. Sonics
could be used as a very powerful weapon.

The science leader had just proven to Justine that he had no
compassion or concern for her well-being outside of what information she could
provide him. If he were representative of his kind, then a species like that
would not hesitate to bring destruction to any world that got in their way. The
story Alex had told them was proving true.

Justine had a choice.

She could cooperate and avoid torture; but the alien had
already told her he would kill her once he was done with her. The Kulsat would
then, most likely, plan their invasion of Earth.

Alternatively, she could defy him. That would mean torture
until he decided she was of no use to him. Then he would ‘expire’ her, and
still plan the invasion … but her resistance might delay those plans. Space was
big; without more information, the Kulsat could conceivably spend years trying
to find Sol System.

If Alex and the others had managed to escape the Kulsat
attack, they might be able to return to Earth and warn them about the invasion.
Justine had no idea how they would accomplish that, since Alex was not a fully
transformed Kinemat; but any chance she could afford them, she would take.

She got to her feet. Though she was still unsteady from the
sonic attack, she stepped closer to the glass wall and put both hands on it.

“Do your worst,” she said, and braced for another blast.

The alien twitched, and his entire body rippled. Justine had
no basis on which to interpret Kulsat body language, but she thought she’d
managed to annoy the creature.

It typed something on the computer, and the machine voice
spoke. “Comprehension difficulty. Risen being is superior to others. You chose
discomfort to protect unGifted and Deficients. You are unit-defective in your
eyes. Are you unit-defective in comprehension?”

“I’m not crazy,” Justine said. “I value the lives of all of
my kind, even if they aren’t ‘Risen’.”

The alien typed. “Units not Risen do not contain true value.
Demonstration.”

Turning fluidly, the Kulsat made a rippling gesture with one
of his arms. At the other end of the room, another Kulsat, smaller than the
first, swam into the area of Justine’s
sight
. The newcomer, she sensed,
was irradiated with Kinemet.

The scientist made several motions with his arms, and after
a few moments, Justine realized he was using a form of sign language to
communicate with the other Kulsat. That made sense. If they were
physiologically comparable to cephalopods, then they had limited hearing
capabilities, and most likely had not developed vocal cords.

When the leader finished signing, the smaller alien swam
over to a table and retrieved a long, thin object. On one end, there was a
loop, which the alien wrapped a tentacle around to carry it. The other end of
the device came to a point, like a needle.

The smaller alien gave the tool to the science leader, who
typed for quite some time on his computer.

He waited while the mechanical voice spoke to Justine.

“This unit was offered the Gift, but failed to become Risen.
He is of limited use. This Deficient serves me, but should he expire, there are
millions of Deficients to replace him.”

Then, to Justine’s horror, the science leader plunged the
spike directly into the other alien’s head.

“No!” Justine cried, but it was too late. The smaller Kulsat’s
body twitched, his arms flailing about for several seconds. Then he went still,
floating away with the spike lodged in his head.

The science leader made another motion toward the entranceway,
and three other small aliens swam in quickly. They grabbed the dead Kulsat and
dragged him away.

“Without the Gift of Light, that unit would be expired soon.
Deficients are having little value. There is no loss.”

Justine couldn’t believe what she was seeing and hearing.
The Kulsat had been the favored of the Grace? From what she’d taken from Alex’s
story, the Grace was a benevolent race. Either someone had been sorely mistaken
about the Kulsat, or the cephalopod race had undergone a radical societal
change in the past thousand years.

Justine knew she couldn’t impose her own system of values on
another culture, but she couldn’t condone murder under any circumstance.

The Kulsat typed. “If you are unit-defective, then you are
to be expiring. There are several more of your kind in this system. They are
not Risen, but they are possible to be not unit-defective. We will retrieve
them now and increase knowledge of your kind.”

“No,” Justine said.

She was aware the Kulsat had given her vital information. Alex,
Kenny, Michael and Yaxche had not been captured. Some of them, if not all, were
still alive.

She had to give them as much time to escape as she could. If
she didn’t cooperate, the Kulsat would simply kill her and go after the others.

While the Kulsat possessed advanced technology, she
suspected that they might not be a superior race. Perhaps she could distract
them.

She said, “I am not unit-defective. I will cooperate. But I
need something from you.”

“What are requirements of cooperation?”

Justine noted that the linguistic computer had improved its
capability for translation. She would have to choose her words carefully in the
future.

“I need time to recover from your sonic attack, and I need
to eat.” She took a breath before adding, “I also require more Kinemet—the Gift
of Light. With it, I am able to see.”

“Ability to see is not required for cooperation,” the alien
typed back. “You will be allowed sustenance and rest. Cooperation will resume
after a delay of time.”

With that, the alien swam to one wall and tapped a sequence
on another control panel.

Above Justine, near where the oxygen flowed, there was a
scraping sound, and when she looked up, she saw a cylindrical container, the
size of a kitchen pail, descending from the ceiling on a cord. A few drops of
water, smelling like brine, fell from it and splashed on her cheek.

Once the container reached the floor, the cord separated
from it, and retracted into the ceiling again. Justine put her hands on the
cylinder. The sides of it felt as if it were made from the shells of clams or
mussels. Instead of a solid lid, there was a membranous skin covering the top.
When she put her fingers against it and applied pressure, the skin broke away.

Inside the container, there were two compartments. One half
held a clear liquid. When Justine dipped a finger in and brought it to her
lips, she was relieved that it was fresh water.

In the bottom of the other half of the container was some
kind of gelatinous substance.

Justine tentatively stuck her finger in. It was slimy, cold,
and thick. When she pulled her finger out, the gelatin stuck to her skin, and
she used her thumb to scrape most of it off. Her stomach rolled at the thought
of eating whatever it was they’d served her, but she was mindful that the
Kulsat was observing her. If she did not eat, as she’d requested, it might
arouse suspicion.

Steeling herself, she lifted her finger to her mouth. Before
tasting the food, she sniffed. It smelled fishy, but not overpowering.

It took every bit of her willpower to stick her tongue out
to taste the viscous gelatin on her finger. To her relief, it had a rather
bland flavor. The problem was that it had the consistency of nasal mucus.

Trying not to think about what she was eating, Justine
scooped up a small amount with her fingers and stuffed it in her mouth. She
gagged, but stopped herself from vomiting it out. With an act of sheer
stubbornness, she forced herself to swallow it.

It felt disgusting going down, and tears sprung to Justine’s
eyes. She had a task to undertake, and an act to play out. She lifted the
container and angled the water half toward her, careful not to let any of the
gelatin pour out on her. Tilting the container to her lips, she drank to wash
the gelatin down, and that helped.

To take her mind off the food, she thought back to what her
captor had said when he killed the other alien, that the smaller Kulsat had
failed to become Risen, and that there were many others who had undergone the
process unsuccessfully.

On Earth, there had been several volunteers during the early
days of the quanta experiments. Even when Klaus had discovered the formula
hidden in the Song of the Stars, he still had more failures than successes. The
thought that made her blood run cold at that moment was that there might not be
a single, guaranteed process. Even if Klaus had gotten every factor right,
there was a chance that Justine might not have survived the experiment.

It was an important piece of information, one she needed to
bring back with her—if she managed to convince the Kulsat that she was more
valuable alive than dead.

Just as she finished the last of the slop, Justine noticed
another small Kulsat enter the room. He approached the leader and signed for
more than half a minute. The leader made a few signs in reply, and the smaller
one swam away quickly.

Approaching the control panel, the leader typed. “Time delay
is increased. You will rest now. Cooperation will resume after one sleep
cycle.”

He turned around to one of the machines behind him, tapped
something on the pad on the front of the machine. Then he swam away toward the
exit.

Justine heard a whirring sound from above her, where the
oxygen was pumping into her tank. She smelled something gaseous a moment before
she realized she was being tranquilized.

She reached her hands out to break her fall, but before she
hit the floor, she was already deep into a dreamless sleep.

10

Sierra
de las Minas :

Guatemala
:

Long Count: 9.19.19.17.9 :

The opening in
the crevice
was barely wide enough for me to crawl through, but I was able to pull Ekahua
inside after me. As I went deeper, the gap became much wider, and the cave
floor was big enough that we could both lie down, if we had to spend the night there.

There was a small crack in the ceiling that allowed a thin
stream of moonlight into the cave. It was barely enough light to let me make
out the shape of my own hand when I held it up in front of my face.

“Are you hungry?” I asked Ekahua. “I could go hunt something
for us, though I don’t think we should risk making a fire.”

Ekahua said, “No, thank you. By the time you returned, I
would be gone.”

I shifted, uncomfortable at how casually he spoke about his
own death. It did not seem like a glorious death to me. Fading away in a cave
was not how I wanted to die. If I were to meet my end in battle or on a hunt,
then my tribe would sing of my heroism.

“I didn’t see any wounds,” I said to Ekahua. “What is
killing you?”

He seemed to think about how to explain himself to me. “It
has been eons since our world, Xtôtix, was destroyed. I, like all of my people,
have spent my life among the stars; I am one of the last of my kind.

“It is because of the Grace—which gives us power to travel
the stars—that we cannot survive on a planet. We become like fish on dry land.”

“Then why did you not stay in the sky?” I asked, trying to
understand what he was telling me.

“I have been visiting your system for quite some time,
watching your world from the sky. You have grasped the nature of the universe
much quicker in your evolution than other races. It is very interesting to
follow your progress.

“This time, there was a flare in your sun that hit my sky
boat. By the time I got control, it was too late.” He made a sound, which I
decided was a laugh.

Not understanding half of what he said, I asked, “You said
there are only a few of you left. Did they also come to the world and die?”

“No.” He closed his eyes. “The Grace—what we call the power
of light—that lets us travel the stars also gives us very long lives, Subo Ak. I
have lived for thousands and thousands of your years. But everything has a
cost. You see, there was an accident on our world. Only a few of us survived,
and we were changed. Unfortunately, though we have great power, we are not able
to have children. Once, there were many Xtôti; now, there are only a few. It has
been a long time since I have seen another of my kind. For all I know, I may
even be the last.”

I felt him reach out to me and rest his trembling hand on
mine. It must have been a terrible effort on his part; it was a moment before
he spoke again.

“That is why it was important to destroy my ship, and why
none of the other tribes can find me. If they learned how to use the full
power, as we did, their people would also begin to die out. We cannot allow
that to happen.”

There was a pleading look in his eyes. “You must promise me
that when I die, you will build a fire. Make it as hot as you can, and burn my
body so that not even ashes remain. Make sure you get very far away, so that
you will not be harmed. Will you do this for me, Subo Ak?”

I was so stunned by his story and request, I didn’t realize
I had been holding my breath. I let it out and said, “You will not have any
path to the Underworld. Let me bury you. This cave is a sure way to the spirit
world. I will bring you many gifts for your journey.”

“No,” Ekahua said. “I know it is not your tradition to do as
I ask, but you must promise to do so.”

For a time, I thought about his story. The power he talked
about was mighty, and I dreamed about what I could do if I lived for thousands
of years. Then I felt a moment of doubt. It would be an offense against the
gods if we never had children. The Ch’orti’ were already dying out because of
our wars with the northern tribes. We needed to increase our numbers, not lose
them.

I thought I understood what Ekahua was trying to tell me,
and I nodded. “Yes, I will do as you ask.”

“Thank you, Subo Ak.” He closed his eyes. “There are many
cultures in your world, but I believe yours is the most promising. Already you
look to the stars to guide your lives.” Ekahua smiled.

“Of course,” I said. “We all await our rebirth among the
heavens.”

“It is for that reason I have left a message for your
people, once you begin to explore beyond the shores of your world.”

“What message?”

“It is more of a marker to point the way.” He opened his
eyes and gave me an odd look. “Though I am not certain I have managed to write
it correctly; your symbols and glyphs don’t always bear the same meaning as
your spoken words.”

I waved a hand. “We leave the writing to the priests and
elders. I prefer
hearing
the stories.”

“And so, now you must listen carefully to my story. I will
teach you the Song of the Stars. It is very important to learn it exactly, and
pass it along to your children. The knowledge will give your people power in
the generations to come.”

Ekahua sang a song to me in a language that I could not
understand. Respectfully, I did not interrupt him, but listened as carefully as
I could.

“I do not know what those words mean,” I said to him when he’d
finished.

“The words are not important.” He turned his head toward me.
“The meaning is in the song itself. You must be able to sing the melody as I
have. I will sing it again, and then you can try.”

“What is this song?” I asked. “How will it give my children
power?”

Some time passed before Ekahua said, “It is the song that we
hear when we become one with the Grace. One day, that Song will allow your
people to travel across the stars.”

We practiced throughout the evening, until Ekahua finally
told me that I had learned the song correctly. When I sang the song, I could
feel something powerful in the music. It was as if it were a reminder of an
event in my life I had never experienced.

Ekahua said, “Come closer, Subo Ak, and I will give you a
final gift. You have heard the song from me; now you will hear the song from
the stars themselves.”

When I moved over to him, he raised one hand and placed it
on my forehead. My first reaction when his body began to glow and light up the
cave was to pull away, but though he was weak, his grip was strong, and he held
me there.

It was as if he became light itself. A quick thought came to
me that maybe Ekahua was a god, and had only led me to believe otherwise. What
person could become light?

A soft ringing in my ears caught my attention. That sound
grew louder in my head until it fully consumed my thoughts. I detected the
faint melody of the song, and once I did so, it was all I could hear.

The Song enveloped me, took me away from my mortal self. It
was stronger than any dream I’d ever had, more powerful than any spirit vision
I’d ever heard of. Soon, my entire being became that Song, and there was
nothing else in the universe.

∞

When I woke up, it was morning, and faint light streamed
through the crevice into the cave.

I reached out to shake Ekahua, but pulled my hand back when
there was no resistance. He made no sound. I held my fingers at his mouth and
felt no breath.

Ekahua was dead. The effort of that last gift to me must
have been too much for him.

Though I had only known him for a short time, I felt a heavy
sadness in my heart and a great loss. I wanted nothing more than to hear that
Song again and for the rest of my life. Now, I only had the memory.

Slowly, I made my way out of the cave. Squeezing through the
small opening in the cliff face, I blinked at the sudden brightness of the
morning sun.

Ekahua’s last request was for me to make an offering of his
body through fire. I thought, perhaps it was so that the smoke would carry his
spirit back to the sky to join his people. It was important to honor the dead,
and I intended to do as I was asked.

Before I gathered dried wood to build the fire, though, I
went in search of food, taking my atlatl and two darts. I had gone too long
without eating, and I needed to keep my strength up if I were to make the long
journey home and tell my strange tale to the other villagers.

I was in luck, and found a bird’s nest with three eggs. My
hunger got the better of me, and I quickly cracked the shells open and sucked
the eggs down.

After finishing the third one, I heard a sound from a
distance behind me. Dropping down to a knee, I searched through the woods.
Soon, I saw the forms of three Q’eqchi’ warriors. They were walking in the
direction of the crevice where Ekahua’s body rested.

I could not let them find him. They would be certain to take
his remains back to Quiriguá. I would not be able to honor Ekahua’s final
wishes, and would risk angering his dead spirit.

Desperate to lead them away, I stood and loaded a dart in my
atlatl. Immediately, I threw it toward the three warriors. I had no thought to
hit any of them. My plan was simply to get their attention. My dart struck
home, however, running right through the neck of one of the warriors. He made a
gurgling scream as he fell to the ground.

As one, the other two warriors spun on their heels,
crouching defensively until they could spot their attacker.

Turning, I broke into a run. In the back of my mind, I
congratulated myself. I had accomplished my original mission to either capture
or kill an enemy, though I didn’t know whether I would be able to take a trophy
of my victory.

The two warriors spotted me. One of them threw his spear at
me, but it went wide. The other warrior broke into a run, chasing after me
through the forest.

I had to lead them as far away from the crevice as I could,
but I could not let them catch me. If they did not kill me, they would bring me
to Quiriguá to become a slave, or a sacrifice.

I scrambled as fast I could down the mountain. If I could
reach the valley floor, I might be able to outrun them.

My foot caught on a root sticking out of the ground, and I
lost my balance. I fell hard on my stomach, and pain lanced through my body as
the breath rushed out of me.

Cursing, I fought to suck air back in and get to my feet.

The lead warrior was almost upon me, and he drew back his
spear and aimed at me. I grabbed a handful of dirt and flung it in his face. He
yelled as he turned his head away and threw his hand up to protect himself.

Taking the opportunity, I picked up my atlatl, which had
fallen from my grip, and swung it like a club at the warrior’s head. The end
connected with his temple, and he fell to the ground in a heap.

The second warrior was only a few paces behind his
companion, and caught up during the fight. Still at a run, he jumped at me,
swinging a long knife at my throat.

I batted at the knife with my atlatl and knocked it out of
his hand. At the same time, I tried to duck under the warrior’s flying body,
but he hit me with his entire weight. Both of us crashed backward into a tree
trunk. I felt a snap, a surge of pain, and knew that one of my ribs was broken.

The agony made my head swim. My breath came in painful gasps.

Having bounced off me and landed a few steps away, the enemy
warrior jumped back to his feet. He let out an animal roar and rushed at me.

I threw myself to my back and, in one motion, reached out to
grab the first warrior’s spear and bring the point up.

The second warrior tried to turn away at the last moment,
but he was running at me too quickly. The spear caught him in the chest and
went straight through him.

He gave me a puzzled look, and then the life went out of his
eyes as he toppled over onto his side.

I could not believe it. I’d defeated three of the Q’eqchi’
warriors by myself.

The pride I felt was short-lived. I could barely breathe,
and I knew if I did not find help, I would not survive. With my rib broken, I
would not be able to hunt for food. If more warriors came, I would not be able
to outrun them.

With great effort, I drew myself to my feet. Picking up my atlatl,
I slowly picked my way back to the crevice where I had left my pack.

Even if I managed to build a fire to burn Ekahua’s body and
send his spirit to the sky, I did not have the strength to pull his body out of
the cave. As it was, I didn’t know if I had the strength to make it back to my
village outside Copán, which was a two-day march away.

As I hefted my pack, grimacing at the pain and holding one
arm close to protect my broken rib, I vowed to return. If I had to, I would
bring more warriors with me to complete the ritual and honor the sky traveler.