James G. Scotson

PLANETS FALLING

To Stephanie, Ian, and Addy. You are my planets.

BOOK 1: BEGINNINGS

Chapter 1 – Mars

The old man sat in the shade of a willow tree considering the future. He saw shapes in his mind. They looked a little like stepping stones in a garden or stars suspended in heaven’s bosom. With closer inspection, he discovered that they were footprints in ruddy soil. Those dusty footprints, millions of miles away from his frail frame but also right there in his head, were stepping into a broad, endless horizon. Humanity had begun its journey into the unknown on a scrawny, rusty patch of dirt not far from home, feet shuffling awkwardly on stair steps, moving away from one reality and upward towards another. The man’s head slumped and his red, beating heart fluttered and failed. The bloody disk of mars faded into mist as he slipped away into the darkness of space.

Many years passed. The old man was long gone and the willow tree was a parched trunk — a mere husk of its memory. Melancholy had settled on the human species. Earth was sagging under humanity’s weight. To even the most optimistic, it was apparent that the sack of genes and flesh known as mankind was spiraling towards extinction. In response, desperate planetary exploration within earth’s solar neighborhood was underway. This effort was not one of charity and nobility, but as all things go with people, it was fueled by cold, harsh profit.

The corporations ruled. Mining the water of several planetary moons, siphoning the gases of the giant planets, and scooping the iron of mars were lucrative business. The masses on the blue home world grasped at the dollops of material falling from the sky with desperation. Very little democracy remained. Earth’s governments had congealed into a few factions, each largely glued by a strange mixture of religion, skin color, science, economic interests, and politics.

It was under these conditions that the little planet mars was slowly being colonized. One of those colonists was a dark, thin woman named Pinchot Ferris. Pinchot loved to garden. However, her professional training kept her from this hobby. She had degrees in ecology and biochemistry with a knack for administration. She bristled when people, including many of her fellow scientists, equated the science of ecology with value-laden, emotionally driven environmentalism. Ecology was a robust approach for predicting the course of events within complex associations of plants and animals. Good ecology was necessary for effective environmentalism. But an ecologist had to be dispassionate about environmental events to stay objective — whether the events were positive or, as usual, negative was not an ecologist’s business. An ecologist was responsible for understanding the biological processes on earth not altering them. It was true that ecology had failed to inform policy and regulation on earth. But that wasn’t the fault of the ecologists in her view. How could you stop the colossal momentum of population growth and human greed? As technology grew and more people sank into electronically induced comas, it became simpler for the alert but typically greedy few to sop up the last dregs of resources on the planet.

Given the dismal conditions on earth, some humans looked to the tiny red speck in the sky for hope. Mars was long considered a candidate for escaping the crowds, heat, pollution, and confusion on earth. However, ecological technology, which would form the basis for terraforming embraced in a distant time, was still in its infancy. Colonies on mars were the equivalent of giant plastic and metal greenhouses, available only to the very wealthy. The ecosystem inside the colonies was very simple, very inefficient, and prone to malfunctions. The engineers installed enough redundant systems to keep the domes’ life support stable. But the systems required constant maintenance. The atmosphere outside the domes was cold and lacked oxygen. Some life was discovered on mars’ open surface — all microbial — visible only under a microscope. The debate raged on among the scientists about whether these organisms were of earthen origin or arose separately on mars. Likely, no one would ever know because of contamination by early robotic probes, the human explorers, and then the colonies. No multi-celled plant or animal was known to survive on the open surface for more than a few hours.

Young, fiery Pinchot was hired by the corporation that owned most of the resorts and developments on mars. The task given to her sounded simple enough to the corporate leaders — make the gardens, air, soil, waste, and water in the domes sustainable. The intent of the company was driven by cost control. Reducing maintenance costs and increasing safety would improve the bottom line by eliminating technicians and decreasing insurance premiums. She knew the solution was going to be far more costly than they anticipated. Still, the opportunity for her to tinker was compelling.

She was sitting one day in a shady nook of a faux Japanese garden on the red planet. As she closed her eyes, she recalled the afternoon years ago that she landed on mars. She was strapped tightly into her seat for landing. Her companions in the cabin were mostly tourists adorned in casual clothes feeling a little queasy and turning green. A few others were homesteaders, looking to make a life as service workers, mechanics, engineers, or custodians. Thrusters kicked in and the sickening weight of gravity pulled on her organs. It felt like her eyeballs were sinking into their sockets. The transport thudded and the airlock connected. Air hissed. Her ears popped. And the voice on the speaker announced that they were on mars and ready to be interred.

Her first memory, next to the nausea, was the smell of the dome. It was stale, slightly acrid, and very unpleasant. She stepped into the blaring light and gazed at the sickly potted plant in the corner of the entryway.

“Well, here I am,” she muttered and entered her new life.

The next day, she found her way from her cramped, dreary apartment to her new office and laboratory complex.

“Dr. Ferris, I’m so glad you agreed to join us. I have been following your extraordinary work for years.” Director William Holst extended his hand. A broad smile stretched across his middle-aged face. He was broad shouldered and rugged in a good way. His eyes were the blue of the sky on earth.

She shook his thick hand. “I think we have some real possibility for improvement.” They were in the garden section of the domed colony adjacent to the office facility. Ruddy sunlight shone down onto the vegetation, bestowing it all with a slightly dusky, reddish glow. Butterflies, all yellow swallowtails, fluttered between flowers. A large emerald dragonfly whizzed past her face. A drab brown and white bird, maybe a sparrow, rustled in the leaves of a nearby gingko tree. In the distance, a fountain burbled. She guessed the pond had goldfish swimming in it. Pleasant enough. However, it was clear that not much planning went into the terrascaping.

“First, call me Pinch. No need for formality here. We’re going to need to reconfigure the entire landscape of the colony complex. The garden needs to be extended throughout the domes. We need an entirely different set of animals and plants. I also have ideas about how to tighten up the hydrology. The air quality here completely stinks — I mean that literally. There’s an imbalance in the gas concentrations that we must address.”

Will chuckled. “Okay. Assemble your team and begin drawing up a master plan. You have a considerable expense account at your dispense. I’m excited to see how you use it. You’re exactly what I was hoping for.” He winked, scratched his forehead, and departed so quickly she swore he made a whooshing sound.

With that exchange, the Institute was born, although it would not be apparent for years to come. Over the next ten years, Ferris sifted through the best microbiologists, biogeochemists, climatologists, ecologists, engineers, and geologists to work on the project. Many declined to join, staying on earth, continuing to study the gasping, struggling planet they called home. Others came. It was these people and their families that began the organization one day named the Founding Collective or simply the Families, Founders, or Collective. They would become the leaders, the luminaries, behind the many wonders the Institute would bestow upon the galaxy. For now, though, they were simply a group of slightly bewildered, anxious intellectuals living far away from home.

Near her tenth-year anniversary on mars, she welcomed her last batch of recruits. They were assembled in a conference room, with her in front, much like pupils meeting their teacher for the first time or a congregation in the pews ready for a sermon. “Now that you all have arrived and settled in, I want to welcome you.” She sat down on the table next to her, her booted feet swaying. “I’m Pinch Ferris. I’ve already met many of you. For those I haven’t met, we’ll be working closely together and you’ll join what’s already a dedicated, talented pool of researchers. Foremost, our job is to improve the climate and biological integrity of the domes in the colony. We need to keep this moving along for the sake of the colony and to keep the shareholders happy. Money still rules all.” She paused and considered the gathering.

As you all know, we have another opportunity, one that neither we nor our children will probably see to completion. It’s imperative that we and our future families succeed. I fear that the very fate of our species and the biological heritage of earth depend on this effort. How’s that for a little pressure?” She jumped down from the table and mingled with her new family.

During that meeting, the first thing Jon Fuerst noticed about Pinchot was her voice. It was silken but intense, a strange but enthralling combination. As she addressed the crowd, he could tell that she was confident but guarded. Her back was straight, with her arms folded tightly across her chest. As she spoke, her eyes met those of all in the room, as if she knew each individual well. Of course she did. She had hand-chosen ever single person in the room hadn’t she? It seemed corny, but he knew at that moment that he’d found his match. When her eyes met his, it seemed that she paused a moment, holding his gaze? Probably not. He was good at what he did — geology — but otherwise he was not exceptional. He had few family members on earth, hadn’t held a stable relationship in years, and didn’t even have a pet. So, why would he now find himself so interested in another person? This was more than mere attraction and it unsettled him. He was as solid as the rocks he studied. He had no patience for upset in his routine.

Jon settled into his new life perhaps a bit too easily. The lab was his fortress. Mars was as remote as it got and he couldn’t be more content. Soils were his expertise and those of mars were a challenge — full of salts inhospitable to life and fine as talcum. When mixed with water, the dirt became alarmingly acidic. If you were inclined to stick your tongue in it, it’d taste nearly as sour as a lemon. The soil of the gardens in the domes was mostly shipped from earth at great expense. If there was a way to make the martian soil useful — transform it to earthern loam — the savings to the company in shipping alone would be immense. He had been in the colony for six months now and had several experiments running in small environmental chambers. He was working with two students shipped in from earth, explaining to them what to do with the sensor panel, when he heard that damned voice again.

“Hi Jon. I see that you’re busy. I was hoping to schedule a briefing with you.” Ferris was peering in through the chamber’s entryway, her hair pulled back in a bun. A piece of hair had come out and was hanging over her ear.

Jon had an inexplicable urge to brush her hair back. “No, Dr. Ferris. I am — I’m glad to see you. I was just finishing up with these two assistants, Amy and Hama. Let’s go have a coffee if you have the time.”

The assistants looked at each other and smiled. Jon’s sudden perkiness was refreshing. The old rock could melt into magma after all.

At the coffee shop in dome 12, there was the usual line of regulars — mostly permanent colonists and an occasional guest willing to slum it with the commoners. Good coffee was hard to find on the planet. Espresso machines hissed, a rich funk of beans and steamed milk filled the thin air. They found a seat next to a large window overlooking Olympus Mons. The mountain loomed in the maroon sky. Jon expected to be grilled on his research progress and straightened his back.

Ferris blew on her steaming cup and stared into his eyes. “Jon, I never see you. I suspect you’re working too much.” She took a sip, her eyes narrowing. “I know we have a lot to do, but it wouldn’t hurt to have you mingle with us every once in a while. After all, we’re a big family, and need to rely on each other.”

Jon sighed and slouched, a terrible habit. Was this a clandestine psych evaluation? He looked into his cup and muttered, “I don’t have much need for family. I’ve been on my own for about forever. I worked my way through school and only had my uncle to help me out. My parents were killed in one of the regional coups in Europe. Every time I get close to someone, they seem to fade away. The one constant I’ve found in life is my science. It’ll always be there for me.”

“That’s a shame and it doesn’t have to be that way. I love science very much. But there’s so much to be gained from companionship and a little fun every once in a while.” A mild, ruddy heat appeared on her cheeks.

Awkward silence settled in their cups.

At that moment, sirens pierced the air. A mechanical voice reverberated through all solid objects. To Jon, it sounded as if his coffee cup was speaking to him. “Decompression in dome 12, sector 3. Please proceed to nearest shelter.” Jon’s training sessions during his early days in the colony came back to him. He recalled that safety shelters were sealed chambers in which compressed air was pumped. Each sector within each dome had one, similar to the compartments on ocean-faring ships to keep water from completely flooding the hull. If the shelters were visible from the air, they’d make the domes look like a series of oranges cut through the middle.

“Seems like a strange time for a drill,” Jon mused, sipping his drink as patrons filed out and headed to the shelter. Ferris grabbed his hand. He felt like he was twelve again, completely self conscious of his grip. Was he sweating? Her palm was cool and reassuring.

“This is no drill,” Ferris exclaimed.

They hurried along the walkway leading away from the sector’s central plaza when the air pressure sank. Several people struggled to breathe and fell to their knees. Others turned to drag the helpless to shelter. Dust, paper, drops of water lifted into the air and rushed toward the breach, wherever that might be. A tornado had opened up on the paved surface of the dome.

“Follow me.” Ferris pulled him into a small passageway off the walkway. She waved her security card and they entered through a small door. The door slid shut behind them and the pressure rose, wrapping them in thick, luxurious air.

Outside the door, the bodies of four unlucky patrons who waited too long to respond were strewn across the plaza. Their eyes bulged. Engorged blue tongues protruded from their surprised mouths. The sector was completely sealed and silent. The sirens had stopped.

For a moment, mars, hostile and angry, had succeeded in invading one of the tiny pimples of earth that riddled its surface. Technicians in bright yellow plastic suits entered through an emergency airlock and wandered the perimeter until they found the breach. A large hole was ripped at the base of the half-meter thick dome. Adorning the frozen edges was what seemed like a crust of thick, brown ice.

“Hey Gus, this shouldn’t happen. What the hell caused that?” a maintenance specialist II named Henson asked over the transmitter.

His companion, Fres Gustonson replied, “No idea. In my 15 years here, I’ve never seen anything like it. There’s no sign of an explosion or projectile. It’s like the breach happened inside the dome. I’ll be damned. These fragments look like they were weakened and shattered out toward the open planet.”

“Well let’s get a temporary patch installed. Call medical and have them get to those poor people.” Henson was having difficulty parting his gaze from the blue, stiff bodies in the still, artificial grass.

While Henson and Gustonson busied at their task and the bodies were shuttled away on gurnies by other yellow suited personnel, Pinch and Jon waited in the dark corridor. “Where are we?” Jon asked. He wasn’t sure whether it was the coffee or the sudden decompression, but his bladder was complaining furiously.

“Maintenance tunnel.” Ferris fumbled in the dark until she found a power panel and activated the lighting. “The underbelly of the colony’s riddled with these things. We could go from one side of the colony to the other and never see the surface. They use these for maintenance now. But when the colony first started, these passages provided housing, storage, everything. People lived down here. Like trolls.” She stuck out her tongue and growled.

“When do you think it’ll be okay for us to go back out?”

“It’d probably be better for us to head over to another sector.” Ferris smiled a little, took his hand again, and led him down the dimly lit corridor. They turned corners here and there, occasionally going up or down ladders. It was clear that Ferris knew the layout well. “Before we head back to the surface, I want to show you something, if you can keep a secret.” She seemed like a little girl ready to show him a line in her diary.

Jon wondered what her intent might be. They had narrowly escaped decompression sickness or perhaps suffocation and here was Pinch leading him on some secret quest underground. God only knew what happened up there. Shouldn’t they be on the surface finding out what was the matter?

The voice in the inquisitive part of his brain faded. He noticed that Pinch’s hair had come completely undone and was hanging loosely around her neck. What shade of blue were her eyes?” He was more curious about her than the maze they were navigating. The events unfurling on the red surface seemed dim and distant.

“Well, here we are.” They were standing in what appeared to be a dead end of a tunnel, with the exception of a small panel on one wall with a blinking yellow light. Ferris again raised her card. The light turned solid blue and the wall disappeared. In its place was a swamp — a wetland — on earth. Or at least it was an approximation of one. The humidity hit him flat in chest. And then the smell of living things enveloped him — wood, grass, that indescribable smell of fresh-turned soil during planting time, flowers, rain, all the scents that he suddenly realized he missed so much from home. Even the deep, dark funk of the mold in the ground was enticing.

Yellow light, not the perpetual red that bathed everything topside, sprinkled through the vegetation. Trees, many which appeared as if they belonged in the Jurassic, rose toward what looked like a blue earthen sky. Of course, that was impossible, he thought. There must be a sophisticated light panel up there. The room before them stretched far into the distance. His ears reveled in the hum of insects and the call of birds.

“Like my terrarium? This is my special garden.” Pinch grinned. Apparently, the events above had left her as well. Or perhaps she didn’t care so much.

“My God, Pinch.” Jon stammered. “How did you pull this off?”

“Will Holst brought me down here when I first arrived. It was an empty hole then — one of several dozen storage facilities for the colonies. The first colonists kept heavy equipment, food, gas canisters, water, and other supplies as far as the eye can see. Most of this is a natural cavern. Water scoured it out billions of years ago.

The original engineers simply improved on nature. They added reactors to generate power and put in various buildings and storage sheds. When the colonies moved aboveground, this area was largely forgotten. The power generators were too large to move upstairs and were considered inefficient, so they sat unused for years. We decided to convert this to a prototype for one of the many ecosystems we plan to install in the domes. Free, unlimited energy from the generators, if a bit noisy and temperamental. The rest of the stuff was shipped in over the past few years. I’m measuring the fluxes among all the components of this ecosystem. Oxygen’s produced by the plants, the plants decay and generate methane and carbon dioxide, then you have to follow how the materials and energy cycle through the animals and microbes. My little piece of earth on mars. Helps fight the home-sickness. Do you feel that way too? I miss earth so much. Just the feel of the soil between my toes. Watching a honeybee poke around on clover?”

She gave Jon no time to answer. “Of course, my, I mean our goal is to eventually move all this beyond the boundaries of the domes. If we can find the right mix of microbes and early successional plants, we think we can kick start global warming on the planet. This is one of the places on the planet where we’re beginning to select strains and species that can get things cooking on the open surface.”

Jon was nearly speechless. He managed to ask, “Is this the only, uh, laboratory on the planet?”

Pinch answered flippantly, as if this underground system was no surprise. “No, there are twenty other facilities like this with other mixes of life scattered across mars. One of our most important issues is trying to determine how to convert martian soil to happier stuff. That’s where we’re counting on you. You work your magic and life will spring up on this sad cinder of a planet.” She smiled hopefully at him.

They explored the area for more than an hour, silent. Ferris was holding a stark white orchid. Her face tightened, betraying her first signs of concern. “Jon, the incident upstairs wasn’t an accident.”

Fuerst paused and turned to look at her. His eyes froze at the sight of her mouth.

She continued. “Think about it. The wall of the dome’s thick and nearly impenetrable. There was no sound of impact or explosion. Either the dome was intentionally opened or someone weakened the wall to allow the inside pressure to blow it out.”

“So you think someone may have used a corrosive or allowed a hatch to open?” Jon sighed loudly.

“A year ago, a couple of our microbiologists, Namis and Tashiako, discovered some corrosion around a few of the outer structures of the colony domes. They took a sample and found that the problem was caused by bacteria. They grew the corroded material under conditions similar to those in the local soil and found a strain of bug that probably came in with one of the transport vessels or maybe it was some chimera with martian bacteria — no one really knows the origin.

Whatever it was, it certainly concerned the company. If this bacteria got bad, it could threaten the integrity of the colony. So, Namis started growing the critters in culture to identify a class of anti-microbial compounds that would kill the microbes and stop the corrosion. Tash decided to isolate the more virulent strains and came up with a particularly nasty bug — figured they should plan for a worse-case scenario. Combined with martian dust, a little moisture, and the polymers used in the walls, the stuff thrived.”

She paused to sniff a pink rose. “Luckily, they came up with a preventative biocidal spray. Because the bug was very bad juju, we ordered Tash to destroy it. But it looks like he didn’t. Or someone pinched some and kept it under their bed. Who knows. This is not a good situation. This bacteria is rotten and could be used as a potent bioweapon.”

Jon felt like puking. He nodded slowly. “So you think someone intentionally spread this bacteria on the wall of the Sector, causing it to breach?”

“Yes I do. The naturally occurring bacteria only causes minor damage. Maintenance inspects and treats the entire colony with biocide regularly. Of course, corporate keeps this under wraps. Even maintenance thinks they are spreading some sort of anti-corrosive on the metal and has no clue that the stuff eating the walls is biological in origin. The chances of a supercorrosive bug occurring spontaneously on the planet is nearly impossible. So, someone used Tash’s strain to cause the incident. Genetics will confirm it. And I guarantee that our people are being rounded up and grilled for information as we speak.”

“Tash?”

“He’ll be the first suspect. There is no way he did this. What a mess.” She rolled her eyes and jumped in a puddle.

Chapter 2 – Interrogation

Tashiako Akia was sitting on his sweaty hands in a spartan room in the colony’s security sector. This was the one place no one wanted to visit. All light was artificial and dim. The walls were pigmented slate grey. Color was absent. Guests and even most of the workers had no idea what this facility was. Any queries were met by a simple, official answer: “Maintenance and storage”.

Will Holst and director of security Ansa Heldren were sitting across the table from Tash. Director Heldren was a severe woman with a tight pout. Her skin matched the walls.

“Tash.” Will leaned forward, his kind face riddled with concern, “Why would you do something like this? People were killed. We already have confirmation that the hole was caused by your biofouling bacteria. You told Dr. Ferris and me that you destroyed all of it. I thought you were part of my team.”

“Like I told you before, I did wipe out the strain. Incinerated the last vials myself. I— I have no idea where it could have come from. Access was restricted to our lab. I mean my wife and kids go to Sector 3-12 all the time. Even if I had some motive, I wouldn’t endanger them.”

Heldren stared blankly at Tash. “As you know, we are under no governmental jurisdiction. The company pretty much owns you and your family.”

She stood up, crossing her thin arms. “We have a huge public perception problem with the loss of those people, especially the guests. I doubt that you did this purposely, but you must have allowed the microbe loose. At the least, we’re shipping you back to earth. Worst, you will be sent to one of our penal facilities until the lawyers figure out what to do with you.” She shook her head dismissively, staring at the table with disgust.

“What about my family?” Tash wiped his eyes.

Heldren’s face tightened further. “You’ve forfeited your family for now. Talk and you might get them back.”

Two security guards adorned in light body armor entered and ferried Tash away into the ashen darkness.

“What are we going to do Ansa? I don’t think he did it.” Will stared at his shoes.

“We need accountability, Holst.” Heldren sipped her coffee and ran her needle-like fingers through her ebony hair.

She continued. “I don’t care whether he was responsible, directly or not. It was his bug that caused the problem. It is his carelessness that caused this issue. And I have to give the board and shareholders something. Once news of this safety breach hits earthside, I guarantee that new signatories to our resorts and adventure camps will drop.” She tapped her fingers on the table. “If you don’t have a stomach for this, then get your people in biological engineering in line. We cannot afford sloppy work.”

They sat in silence for a moment and then Will said, “I need to consult with Ferris about this. We’ll go through the biosecurity protocols and make sure nothing was missed. How sure are we that this is not some form of bioterrorism?”

“Why on earth would anyone want to do that? We all rely on this facility for our lives and livelihood. We have no intelligence supporting the supposition that this is due to activity from an outside group. We screen all entries into the colony and there’s no one here with a motive. It was Tash. Final.” With that dismissal, Heldren took her coffee and left the room.

Holst pressed a button on his sleeve and spoke into it. “Central office, this is Holst. Where’s Pinchot Ferris?”

His sleeve spoke back in a drawl — someone from the southern part of North America. “Hey Will.” It was the anonymous voice of one of the administrative staffers. He could never keep their names straight. “Pinch was last located in Sector 3 during the breach, meeting with Jon Fuerst. Once the incident happened, they blipped off the grid. That’s a bit weird. What do you think happened to them? They couldn’t have been sucked out, right? What’re you thinking?”

“No. Their communication pins must have malfunctioned in all the confusion. I’ll try to find them in the labs.” He sighed. Will knew that they descended into the subterranean tunnel network and suspected they were in the earth cavern underneath the dome complex. He slipped out the door, made sure no one was following him, and headed underground to intercept them.

Jon and Pinch picked at their meager lunch in a small research lab adjacent to the colossal fabricated jungle. Hours had passed since they escaped and they were unsure about their next steps. The room seemed strange to Jon, jutting abruptly from such an organic place. It was brightly lit, angular, and sparsely furnished. A tiny refrigerator and stove were tucked into one corner. A bunk shoved against a metallic wall beckoned to him.

Jon was having trouble processing the unfurling events and just wanted to curl up and sleep. Pinch produced some cheese, crackers, and a can of soup. They slurped and crunched while the ballasts of the lights hummed. The sounds of the earth room were distant, even though they were produced a mere portal away.

Pinch’s voice broke through the backdrop of small noises. “Will should be down here at some point. He’ll know where we need to go next.”

As if on cue, the portal opened and Holst walked into the room.

“I am so glad you are alright. How much do you know?” Holst asked.

Pinch replied. “The sector lost pressure and we escaped through one of the service tunnels. I’m guessing that it is biological, related to Tash’s plastic-eating bug? What’s happening on the surface?”

“Good guess about the cause. It’s identical to Tash’s microbe. Things are awful upstairs. We lost four civilians — two of them paying guests. Security has implicated Tash, as expected. I know he can’t be responsible. I think someone is culturing the bacteria and using it as a form of sabotage. I bet it’s a disgruntled person trying to get revenge either on the company or more specifically, our biology team.”

Pinch frowned. “Who would have the knowhow to make that happen? Within our group, I can think of no one who’d remotely consider doing such a thing. And within the general staff of the colony, I can’t imagine any of them having access to the strain. If they did, I’d doubt they’d be able to keep it from spreading. The stuff eats through just about any synthetic material. How bad was the damage topside? I hope they used biocide once they discovered what it was.”

“Maintenance and security found out the hard way. The bacteria ate through one of the tech’s suits and caused it to decompress. The poor bastard. Henson, I think is his name, suffered a bad case of the bends. When the air pressure dropped, the gases in his blood fizzed out like soda pop. They have him in a recovery chamber right now. He’ll probably pull through. They rushed in with the disinfectant right after that.”

Jon set down his spoon. “My God you two. Who had access to the storage facility? Given the high level of security in those labs, it should be fairly simple to whittle down the potential suspects. I’m just a soil geologist but it seems pretty clear to me that it was someone with sophisticated knowledge, access, and highly technical materials.”

Ferris and Holst glanced at each other. Holst laughed dryly.

“Well Jon, security wasn’t our strongest asset, contrary to what the suits in corporate might think,” Pinch noted. “I mean, we were hired here to improve conditions on the planet, not threaten them. So, while only Tash and Namis plus me and Will had full clearance, lots of technicians and students were in and out of that space all the time. Not that anyone else was supposed to know about the strain.

But you know how we all talk openly about things around here. It wouldn’t be that hard for someone with microbiological knowledge to stash a small sample of spores in a containment vial and slip it out of the facility in their coat. If they kept the bacteria away from moisture and airtight in a freezer, they could hold it indefinitely.” She slumped into a chair. “It just doesn’t seem possible that one of us did this.”

Holst ran his hands through his thinning hair, wrinkling his brow.

“You have to be kidding me,” Jon croaked, throwing his cup across the room. “If you can keep all this,” he pointed to the dripping foilage outside the room’s portal, “a secret, then it seems to me that you could hold some bioterrorist’s dream goo in a locked safe.”

Pinch sighed. “I suppose we ought to tell the company that security was lax. That should let Tash get back to his family. It’ll set our research back, but we’ll survive.”

“Now Pinch, do we really want to risk losing all the progress we’ve made the last decade?” Holst countered. “They may come back and tell us that the risk is not worth the bottom line. We need to try and contain this within our group. When we have more information, then we can go to them.”

“So you’d be willing to let Tash rot in confinement? What is wrong with you?” Jon asked. He stood to leave. Then he realized he had no idea where to go.

“I understand your frustration Jon. A wise person told me to avoid rushing to judgment before I have my facts straight. Give me 48 hours before you go forward with this.” Will stood up and headed for the portal. “I’ll find out the truth behind this. Tash will be fine until then.”

Ferris rested her hand lightly on Jon’s shoulder. His anger washed away and was replaced by a warm calm.

As Will walked out, Pinch and Jon sat silently in tacit allegiance to his plan.

Chapter 3 – Aftermath

Within 24 hours of what the colony’s residents were calling the “big breach”, the nefarious brown slime had eaten various sized holes in five other sectors of the colony.

Dome 2 was devoted to administration and interment. When a portion of the north wall collapsed, two lunching bureaucrats were sucked clear of the structure into the dusty martian air. Their bodies were recovered a day later, frozen and desiccated, like Peruvian mummies curled up in their shallow desert graves on earth.

Dome 6 housed the schooling sectors. Luckily, the children were on holiday and the breach was contained with no injuries. In Sector 2 of housing Dome 3, three boys who were born and raised as true martians in that area were not so fortunate. They were bouncing a ball against a wall that had stood steadfast for their entire short lives. During the last few moments that their minds worked, they marveled at how the wall dissolved before them and then wondered why the air in their chests was being forced out like water through a straw.

The transportation hub, the center of arriving and departing vessels in the colony, experienced only a minor hole in its arrivals bay. No one was hurt. But shipments of repair supplies and even rescue cruisers were impeded until the integrity of the area was assured.

The final breach occurred in the sector containing Jon Fuerst’s laboratory. The wealth of his equipment was smashed against the lab benches when the air rushed out. Hama, the brilliant student who Jon had trained for months and who was only twenty five years old, became trapped between two tables and suffocated while the emergency sirens blared.

Jon and Pinchot emerged from the tunnels just before the walls came down. They stood dumbfounded sipping cold herbal tea in a biological staff lounge as they listened to the chatter on the staff communications network. Holst had vanished. They suspected that he was meeting with corporate leadership brokering a deal to protect the biological section. However, given the events unfolding in the domes, it was apparent that their days of research on mars were over. When Jon heard about his lab, he wanted to rush there, see poor Hama for one last time. But the sector was sealed and it would be weeks before access was granted again. Pinch paced the room, exhaustion awash on her face.

On the screens of the general communications network, Director Ansa Heldren peered out at the entire colony, her mouth tight around her brilliant teeth. She smiled, calmly gazing at the camera, her eyes tarry black. “Dear citizens and patrons. We are in control of the situation. During the past day, several small explosions were set by an unknown person. Be confident that our security is patrolling the perimeter of all living areas and will ensure that no further damage will occur. We ask that any information about suspicious behavior be reported to us immediately. Please remain in the confines of your living areas and do not leave them until further notified.”

“And the cover up begins,” Jon murmured.

“I guess reporting that an uncontrolled pathogen that eats plastic and perhaps some metals is on the loose would be a bit unsettling,” Pinch laughed quietly. “If this stuff is propagating naturally, it could consume the entire colony and any ship coming to rescue us. We’d be the mars equivalent of a leper colony. And we’d all be dead in a few weeks.”

As the two scientists worried, panicked people from all walks of colony life amassed at the trans hub. The hub was a huge building with hundreds of gates that connected transport vessels to the colony interior. Only a small section had been isolated following the breach and outbound transports were still available. Throngs of visitors fought to get onto departing vessels either to other stations on the planet, or more desirably, off planet to earth.

Those who called the colony home had more complicated considerations. Parents attempted to arrange immediate passage for their children. Others were ready to leave all their belongings and jump ship to a new life away from the domes. For those remaining in their living areas, they awaited another breach and possibly an agonizing death.

Over a few short days, the colony settled into resolute silence. Most of the paying visitors had managed to escape off station. The maintenance and technical staff were either busy wandering the perimeter searching for additional damage or staying clear of the gaze of security. Many families associated with colony governance or with biological studies were discretely planning their own flights. Security was questioning biological staff, but did not seem to be particularly earnest in its job. The thin air smelled and tasted particularly artificial. Inhabitants were dreaming of green earth only to awake in the dim martian light.

Then came the directive.

To: All personnel.

Subject: General announcement.

From: Directors Heldren and Holst.

Effective immediately, all egress from the colony is prohibited. An extensive search for the perpetrators of the incidents on Dec 12-13 is underway. Once repairs are completed at the transportation hub, supplies will arrive as normal. The threat of more explosions has been contained. Access to all authorized areas is granted. Please resume all normal work activity. Avoid damaged sectors until further notice.

With apparent martial law imposed on the colony, most of the inhabitants slowly resumed working and living their lives. Other than the uncertainty of the walls falling away, a semblance of resigned normalcy settled on the researchers and staff. The colony was very much the same as before, but subdued. The bustle of activity at the local haunts vanished with the absence of the tourists and adventure seekers. Many of the residential sectors were eerily quiet — most disturbing was the lack of children playing. Parents kept their brood near safety. Those residents with the wealth and influence to move away had gained access to transports before the directive and moved to other martian colonies or back to take their chances on earth.

Those colonists with roots in the colony — or nowhere else to go — stayed. Most of the stragglers and stranded were scientists. Abroad, the colony was viewed as under investigation for terrorist activity and avoided by travelers plus wary merchant vessels. The media carried the story earthside for a few days but quickly became preoccupied with other baubles: the various wars, diseases, and disasters continually bubbling up on earth.

Neither Fuerst nor Pinchot knew what to do. The company leaders including Holst were clearly attempting to deceive the colonists; no one believed that the wall breaches were caused by explosives. The general theory pinging around the populace was that some lifeless inorganic corrosive — a nasty acid — was used. Even the experienced microbiologists doubted that the holes were caused by a biological agent. If Fuerst and Ferris were to implicate an outbreak of Tash’s superbug, panic and fingerpointing would ensue. Even Tash, now released from confinement and reunited with his wife and children, was silent about the matter.

So, they all worked. Contrary to their expectations, Holst encouraged the colonists to continue their research and provided them with ample resources — perhaps more than before the incident. Fuerst’s lab was quickly repaired once the damaged sector was declared safe; he dove into his experiments. It was the least he could do to honor Hama’s memory. He and Pinch spent many days and evenings in the subterranean earth room quietly talking about ways to make mars habitable and how to use their lessons to save earth. Within a few months, access to the outside of the colony was re-established. And only a handful of colonists cared.

A year passed. The quality of the coffee improved and life in the colony ramped up. The anniversary of the incident neared and a collective of colonist researchers were planning the first of a series of small experiments outside the domes. Pinch had gathered all the families in celebration. Children were again playing in the tepid martian sun.

Visitors never returned to the colony. The researchers and their support staff had the domes to themselves. Holst assured them it was a new corporate directive to keep research separate from recreation and housing. Although Pinch occasionally wondered about the company’s true intentions, she kept leading her people forward.

That bright day, Ferris spoke clearly and directly to her friends and family. “My dear friends, we’re about to embark on the next phase of exploration.” She paused and relished the attention. “We plan to introduce a series of engineered bacteria and microalgae that can withstand the harsh environment outside and begin to condition the soil for further life. We’re moving beyond the lab incubator and into the real world.”

Applause followed. From the crowd, Ben Pettit, a climatologist shouted, “When’s the baby due?”

Apparently, the first child of Drs. Ferris and Fuerst was beginning to show — a little bump protruded hopefully from her belly.

Chapter 4 – A New Generation

Excerpt from book entitled “A History of the Terra Institute”:

Adam Fuerst became the first Principal of the Institute following a unanimous vote of the founding families. Fuerst was an original colonist of mars and greatly advanced science and engineering approaches in planetary reformation. After the discovery of intergalactic travel during Fuerst’s early childhood, economic interest in mars colonization and exploitation briefly waned.

Corporate focus on building enclosed colonies on the mars surface and exploiting plus terraforming the entire planet was diverted toward exploration of the galaxy for suitable colonization by earth’s expanding population. The scientists thought there should be endless numbers of planets with life that could be exploited and colonized for profit. While earth turned toward the stars, the scientists on Colony 1 of mars continued their ecological and climatological research, training their children to follow similar pursuits. It was during this time that the colony became an autonomous branch company — acting as a consultant to the various exploratory corporations — a move that would prove most profitable to the Institute in the near future.

During Fuerst’s early teen years, contact with the nauron species was established. As with humanity, the naurons were searching for habitable planets, with surprising parallels to those of humans, although the naurons required more aquatic habitats given their amphibious life cycle (link to: nauron physiology). The combined exploratory efforts of the two sentient species yielded a discouraging fact. Life was surprisingly rare in the galactic neighborhood.

It was with this sinking realization that the corporations and the one remaining earth government (link to: Great Intercontinental War) turned toward the small cluster of colonies on mars. The red planet was streaked with green by this time. It was there that Fuerst had spent most of his childhood traveling with his mother between the various domes of the colonies. He was an attentive, brilliant child with broad interests. He excelled academically and learned much from the labs he visited. Memoirs of many of the early Institute founders including biologists, chemists, and geologists mention how inquisitive and insightful he was, as if he had read all the available literature on their subjects.

As an adult, Fuerst’s chosen field was astrobiology. This developing discipline explored how the physics of planets, their moons, and suns influenced planetary life. It was during this time that humans and naurons discovered the first three (other than earth and nauron) of the 31 known planets with life on them (link to: planetary community) and astrobiology found that many of its theories could begin to be tested in space. Many other planets had conditions that seemed appropriate for life. However, to the disappointment of the explorers, life was absent or had long vanished on them. The question posited to Fuerst’s Institute was this: Is it possible to make lifeless planets come to life?

It was Sunday morning on mars and Adam Fuerst always had breakfast with his parents. Pancakes, synth bacon, and steaming coffee sat untouched in front of him. He’d recently been chosen as the leader of the new Institute and by this it meant he was the leader of mars. The colony of researchers now was officially recognized beyond its borders. But with the exception of the new title for the colony nothing was particularly new, except perhaps the expectations of the expanding populations of two intelligent, spacefaring species vying to colonize the galaxy. No real pressure there.

Most of the founding researchers brought there by his mother were raising families. In fact a few were already welcoming a third generation into their world. And a few naurons joined them, their wet skin and enormous eyes never failing to capture the attention of the human children. As was becoming tradition, many of their children elected to stay and learn the craft of science, expanding terraforming into new, exciting realms. Mars was slowly becoming green. What an amazing achievement, he often thought.

“Mom,” Fuerst sipped his cranberry juice, squeezed from fruits grown in the depths of the planet. “I was scrolling through reports of the incident. I know I’ve asked lots of time before. But I uncovered some new information. It involves your old friend Will Holst.”

Both Pinch and Jon shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Adam was obsessed with the big breach that occurred so long ago. No suspect was implicated. And no trace of the biological substance that caused the breaches was ever found. They assumed that Holst, Heldren, and the company knew more, but their queries to the corporate leadership were always met by evasiveness. Holst had died the year before. It was an apparent suicide. He walked into an airlock, deactivated the safeties, and strolled about ten feet out onto the martian surface before collapsing from extreme exposure. He was found by maintenance staff curled in a desiccated ball in a small patch of moss. Within a few hundred years, he would have been able to sit in that patch of vegetation and suffer only a bit of a chill.

Adam gazed at his stricken parents. “Now that I’m involved in governance and we’ve gained autonomy from the company, I have access to communications between the colony leadership and the corporation. There’s a bunch of puzzling encrypted notes between Holst and someone high up in the company immediately before and following the incident. I had Billings in computing and mathematics write an algorithm to decrypt them. Most of the messages are reports about productivity, personnel evaluations, and costs. But directly before hell broke out here, one of the messages says something like, ‘project underway, chimera released’. After the incident, Holst made several references to ‘unintended consequences’ and strangely a reference to the moon phobos and what appears to be coordinates on its surface.”

Ferris looked at her son sadly. She hadn’t aged visibly in years, although her eyes were deeper, darker. “So Will had something to do with the release. Adam, we haven’t been entirely honest with you or ourselves for that matter. The incident wasn’t caused by explosives.” She and Jon described the events of those few days and the impact of Tash’s bacteria. The pancakes grew cold. “We always thought that Heldren, the security director at the time and Holst either caught the perpetrator or at least knew more about the event. They always were wrapped in the corporate drama. But we just dove back into our science and let things sort themselves out. Typical researchers. Now it seems that Will had some hand in this. But why?”

Jon sighed, an exhalation of decades of concern and guilt. “Adam, we’re so sorry. We really should have pushed harder. I mean, kids died that day. If Holst was remotely responsible, he should have paid. What do you think is on phobos?”

Adam smiled at his parents. His ability to immediately forgive people and to see their point of view were traits that made him a great leader and research collaborator. It also rendered him, like his mother, a bit too trusting. “Perhaps an answer to the mystery. I plan to take a shuttle to the moon and check out those coordinates.”

“Mind if I tag along?” Jon asked. “It’s been a while since we’ve done any space hopping together. I miss those trips with you.”

Phobos was a tumbling lump freefalling towards the surface of mars. In a few million years, it would crash, undoing any works that humans had managed to accomplish. As they lifted from the surface, Jon imagined what awaited them. Was it a confession? A vial of the bacterium? Meteors and an occasional piece of spaces debris routinely hit the moon, so it might be possible that nothing but a crater would be found there. The shuttle entered space and Adam was humming some tune that Jon could not recall. The moon neared and the ship mimicked the tumbling spin of the satellite in anticipation of an approach toward the predefined coordinates. They descended and the ship landed in a puff of dust. The low gravity made excursions dangerous, so Jon remained in the vessel while Adam departed, tethered to the bulkhead. While he shuffled to the site, Adam kept humming.

“Stop making that noise kiddo, I am trying to concentrate on your vitals and the gravity readings.”

Adam chuckled. “Sorry dad, popular tune that all the kids are listening to right now. Okay. I’m here. Nothing obvious but a pile of rocks. Wait, I see something.”

Jon peered through the window. “Be careful. Is there a sign of any traps?”

“Do you think this is some bad movie, dad? No traps, bombs, or snapping alligators. It’s a relay of some kind — a small power source, a keypad, and what looks like a transmitter. I think its still operating and sending signals to somewhere. We need to know where it is pointing.”

Jon swiveled his seat to the navigation panel. “Let me see whether the ship’s receiver can capture the bandwidth. Also, I’ll have the computer calculate the trajectory of the signal. Attach a transmitter to the antenna.”

The computer analyzed the signal, randomly tuning through various known frequencies looking for a pattern. After about half an hour, it captured the signals and deciphered their destination — earth. Specifically, it was relaying messages to the location of a small transmission satellite belonging to the corporation. The individuals privy to this information were likely very high in the company hierarchy. The message on the relay was a recording, generated by Holst just a week before he died. The encryption was the same as the one Adam had deciphered earlier. The computer cracked it easily and revealed its content. It said: “Chimera stolen. Location unknown.”

Later that day, while the shuttle’s engines cooled in the transport bay, Adam convened a meeting of the family leadership of the Institute — mostly human a few naurons. After explaining to them what he learned from his parents, he conveyed the troubling information that Holst sent back to earth. Concerned, surprised faces riddled the room.

Adam maintained his control. “I suspect that the some faction within the corporation intended to clear non-scientists from the colony and use it solely for terra-development research. This probably wasn’t a popular idea among the leadership. Most board members plus the shareholders wanted to keep using the colony for recreation and housing. Thus, Holst and whoever he was collaborating with in the leadership decided to use an incentive — a terror attack to scare people away. The bacteria that Tash developed would be convenient and clandestine. All Holst had to do was spread it in several locations and wait for it to cook. I don’t think he intended for it to be so robust or deadly. Regardless, it worked. Years passed. I guess Holst stashed some bacteria. When it was lost, he couldn’t bear the possible consequences and killed himself.”

“Or someone killed him,” Maggie Natano suggested. She was the daughter of one of the founding computer engineers and was a competent mechanical engineer. She and Adam circled around each other for many years. When she finally pushed him to commit toward marriage, Adam turned away and buried himself in his research. She was one of the few in the Institute with a skeptical view of Adam’s leadership qualities and his apparent selflessness.

“Come on, Maggie. The security override to get through the airlock was done using his unique codes. There wasn’t evidence of foul play,” Adam countered.

“Our first priority is to set up detectors throughout all the domes, planet-wide,” Sarah Anderson from microtechnology noted. “We can set them to look for a set of fatty and amino acids unique to the strain. I have a new detector design that’ll work very nicely.”

“Thanks Sarah. We’ll get you all the resources and personnel necessary. In the meantime, I’ll assemble a security detail to determine where the pathogen might have been stored. We also need to identify who would have known about it and then stolen it.”

Adam and Maggie led the security detail along with four other family leaders. They formed pairs and set out to trace the last days of William Holst. Holst had indeed shuttled into low orbit the week before his death, likely to send his message to earth. After his death, his apartment was emptied and was now occupied by an elderly grade-school teacher named Harly Warren. Warren let Adam and Maggie into the space. He excused himself and left to visit the pub in the local plaza.

“Mr. Warren used to go to the pub all the time during school lunch, so I bet he’ll be there for a while,” Adam mused as they looked around the well-worn trimmings of the old teacher’s home. Harly was a well known alcoholic. He was a wise and interesting teacher in the morning and a complete mess after lunch. “Maggie, you were adamant about coming here. What do you expect to find? Holst’s belongings were all recycled long ago.”

“I think Holst was hiding the stuff here. If we look in the right place, we’ll find a hidden freezer or stasis compartment.”

“How are we going to find it here?” He pointed at the piles of old books, mounds of unwashed clothes, and walls covered with antique mechanical clocks. The ticking was somehow comforting and annoying simultaneously. Dust and cobwebs coated everything. Maggie coughed.

“You, Adam the Fuerst of the colony, have no imagination. You know so much. But thinking outside the box is my side of the mountain. We shut the power off to the apartment. If the freezer was holding something so dangerous, Holst would’ve arranged back up power. We simply search for a spike in the electrical field and that should be where it is hidden.”

“That’s pretty clever Maggie.” He paused. For some reason, he felt the need to respond to her veiled anger. “I know you’re still angry about me leaving—” He paused thoughtfully. “Leaving us, what we had. I have responsibilities and couldn’t give you the time you deserved. You knew that. We’ve been over this so many times.”

She turned to him swiftly and glared. “You left because you’re an ambitious, self-centered ass. I was nothing more than an impediment to your progress. God forbid you would spend some time devoted to others and not your own self aggrandizement. And I won’t even go into the weird relationship you have with your mother.”

“That’s not fair Maggie,” he muttered and shuffled to the power supply to the apartment.

The apartment fell into darkness and Maggie the engineer went to work looking for a power spike in the walls, floors, and ceiling. It was no time before the gadget she was holding led her to a small panel in the floor of Warren’s study — a grubby room with a desk and more piles of books. The panel appeared to be another floor tile. She moved the books aside. “The panel must have a biometric lock. That’s Sarah’s specialty. I’ll call her over.”

They sat in the dark contemplating the dusty gloom.

“Now that you are the poohbah of mars, what’s next for you Adam?”

“Maggie, you know that mom has been grooming me for this since birth. I can’t disappoint her.”

She rolled her eyes. “Adam, you need to stand up to her and do things for yourself.”

Within a few hours, Sarah appeared. With a few modifications of her computer, she identified the locking mechanism, synthesized a tissue match for Holst, and was waving it over the panel. A small blue light appeared in the floor and the panel flipped open. Inside was a handle. “It’s all yours,” Sarah motioned to Adam. He kneeled and turned it. Dust billowed and books tumbled. A cubicle roughly six feet square rose from the floor, towering in the cramped space. Maggie stepped toward it and reached out to touch it. In response, a door clicked open; inside was a brightly lit rack of shelves, empty with exception of a small data disk. They grabbed the disk and closed the door. The cube descended back into the floor.

“Are you going to tell Mr. Warren that he has a secret compartment in his office?” Sarah asked.

“He’d just use it to chill his vodka.” Maggie kicked the books back over the space. Only a vaporous cloud of dust betrayed their discovery.

Chapter 5 – The Affair

The first time Adam and Maggie kissed was underground. Adam had sworn her to secrecy about the chamber, but everyone knew about the network of underground ecosystems the fabled Dr. Ferris had planted across the planet.

Their exact whereabouts was another story. Maggie was ecstatic when Adam shuttled her to another domed colony — this one devoted largely to microengineering, the process of developing microbial communities that could condition planets, not just mars, to rapidly warm and produce breathable gases.

It was late and very dark. The stars twinkled in the martian sky. They docked the vessel, wandered the quiet walkways of the colony, and approached an unremarkable sheet metal building. He grabbed her hand and led her to a lift inside. They descended and the temperature rose. When the lift stopped, her eyes grew wide at the impossible vista of greenery before her.

It was night belowground as well. However, light from a faux earth moon shimmered over the lichen-blanketed rocks. Moss draped over the boulders and ferns. Water was trickling through a simulated stream. Tiny, pale yellow flowers littered the landscape. This was the closest to earth she had ever been in her life. She could only wonder what the chamber would look like in simulated daylight.

“How does she do it?” she wondered aloud to herself.

“Green thumb,” Adam remarked quietly. “She’s really quite remarkable. Understands all the cycles, minerals, micronutrients, light needs, temperatures, humidity. The works. She starts out with the most basic components and then sets up a series of successional stages. Basically, it is applied ecology from earth. Of course, the complexity and cycles that took millions of years of evolution on earth don’t apply here. But thinking about the shape that earth is in right now, the evolutionary rules don’t matter there anymore. I think her real goal is not to terraform mars.” He picked a flower and put it in her hair. “I think she wants to preserve it all here and once humans get done wearing down earth, she can rebuild it. She may seem positive but deep down, she’s very angry.”

They walked quietly along a walkway next to the stream. For a moment, she imagined that no pump recirculated the water — that she was walking in a forest on earth. He turned to her, gently touched her ear, and his lips met hers.

She whispered, “Tell me what you want to do with it all. Your mother won’t be in charge forever.”

He picked another flower and grinned. “Let’s run away. We can set up a shack in one of the colonies near the poles. We could change our identities. I could be a maintenance worker and you could do whatever you want to do. Paint, write, sculpt.”

“I’m training to be an engineer, Adam dear. Precision, detail, you know? Not much room for the messiness of art. I set all that aside years ago. And you wouldn’t last a day doing things someone else tells you to do unless it was your mother. You’d have the entire colony figuring out ways to melt the poles and warm the climate.”

“I suppose.” He jumped into a puddle and splashed her. “But promise me that we’ll always have fun.

Chapter 6 – Into the Light

Maggie, Sarah, and Adam inserted the disk in a viewer in Adam’s home. The time stamp on the video was dated the morning that Holst died. Holst’s face peered from the screen, pale and worn. His eyes were ghoulish, vacant, as if he was already frozen and dried — a husk in the red dust. The backdrop was green and lush — Holst was standing in one of the underground ecolabs. A winged insect fluttered behind him. He spoke, clearing his throat.

I am William Oliver Holst. I serve as the Director of Biological Reformation on Mars Colony 1, previously owned by the Corporation for Space Exploration. If you’re viewing this recording, I have not returned to my home and am likely imprisoned or dead. My intent is for this missive to serve as a confession of sorts. This is also a call to action, because if I’m correct, the hands that now hold the biological corrosive known as strain XV may threaten the mars colonies as well as the civilization on earth.

My intent in releasing the bacterial alpha precursor to XV was benign, although clearly naive. The corrosive was meant to strike fear in the general populace, causing an exodus. This action was sanctioned by others within the corporation and not meant to harm. After the event, I was dismayed at what I had done and was prepared to step away from involvement. My highest priority was to destroy the microbes. However, I was encouraged by some within the leadership to continue studying the material and make it more potent, with the hope that we could generate a preventative for future attacks. The idea was that this was a powerful bioweapon. The holder of the defense would profit considerably. Honestly though, it was my curiosity about the bacterium involved and its awesome impact on fabricated materials that gave me pause about destroying the alpha strain for good.

Resources flowed in from an anonymous individual within the board of directors on earth and I continued the experiments that Tashiako had ended. Through my efforts, I isolated a mutant strain that I called XV. Unlike the alpha strain, this bacterium was unique in that its nuclear material was sheathed in a coat of four protective membranes. It was incredibly virulent and resistant to all know biocides. Only direct exposure to lethal gamma radiation — a nuclear pulse — would destroy it. This, of course, would be an unacceptable control agent in areas populated by humans and other life, scrambling genetic material.

I reported my results to the board via a transmission relay on phobos. The response was silence. My contact on earth was either incapacitated or had lost interest. My resources dwindled and I placed XV in stasis.

XV is truly a remarkable achievement. It has no effect on life.

Holst turned and glanced longingly at the jungle behind him. The insect landed lightly on his shoulder and then flitted away.

XV is a harmless decomposer in earth-like conditions, similar to thousands of other strains of bacteria. If it does infect living tissue, the immune system can quickly defeat it. However, when combined with any non-living polymer — a repeating chain of carbon atoms — its enzymatic machinery leaps to life. Within hours, it can consume the entire electrical system of just about any machine, with no chance for control. This strain can destroy any mechanized world in a matter of days, while leaving its inhabitants untouched. A world stripped of its technology and considered a pariah to other advanced cultures. Back to the stone age. What a thought.

Holst smiled weakly as he shook his head. Was that pride on his face? Maggie thought. Holst’s face slackened again.

Yesterday, my security system notified me that my apartment had been entered. By the time I returned home, I discovered that the freezer in which you found this message was opened and the last remaining sample of XV had been removed. If you have discovered this message I assume that this individual has implicated me in a bioterrorist attack. I’m not guilty of anything but scientific curiosity. My hope is that this message will perhaps not exonerate me but place some perspective on my actions. History will judge my actions as just and tempered.

I am prepared to set this right. There is one other individual on mars who knows of my actions and the existence of XV. I plan to contact this person tonight with my dilemma. Perhaps this colleague told someone about the hiding place and this led to the break in. If I can find the thief, then I may be able to circumvent disaster.

Adam turned to Maggie and Sarah. “It has got to be the former security director, Heldren. She stepped down from her post when we gained autonomy but stayed on planet. She lives in Colony 12 near Licus Vallis. We should question her. If this woman is responsible, then we can give her a taste of her own medicine.”

The next morning they shuttled to colony number twelve. It was a small cluster of domes dedicated to housing and vegetable production. Each dome was littered with rows of shiny vegetation, broad leaves sucking in the combination of martian sun and auxiliary lamps. Sarah, Maggie, and Adam tumbled out of the shuttle. Tendrils of rich, loamy scent reached into their nostrils. They hailed a cab and headed to Heldren’s small home overlooking an expanse of tomato plants. Adam thought it funny that a woman with such a steely reputation settled into a tepid life, raising a sea of red orbs.

The scrawny, wisp of a woman was in her garden tending chartreuse gardenias when they approached. Her hair was thin and her skin was taut — but no wrinkles.

“If it isn’t the second coming and his entourage,” Heldren purred. “I suspect you have some new questions about some very old events. I doubt you’ve come to taste my vegetables.” She produced a mock frown.

Adam stepped forward. “Of course, this isn’t a pleasure visit. It’s about your old companion, Director Holst. What do you know about the breaching events that occurred thirty years ago? We have no time for games. Tell us what we need to know and we will leave you back to your gardening.” Adam fought to maintain his composure.

Heldren placed her sheers into a small cart. “Very well, Dr. Fuerst. Follow me to the house. It is not far from here down the path. Believe it or not, I am thrilled to have visitors. It gets lonely here in my self-imposed exile.”

They sat in Heldren’s unexpectedly cheerful parlor waiting for her to speak. The walls were bright yellow; potted flowers adorned every surface. The fragrance was intoxicating. Heldren considered the frills on her table and then lifted her rigid face. It held the same vague expression, void of consequence that she displayed when addressing the distraught colonists ages ago. Adam knew it well. He reviewed the recordings many times looking for clues.

She spoke clearly. “I surmise you know about the biological substance and Holst’s involvement. He killed himself over it you know. Weak spirited, that one was. The guilt of killing those children ate him up inside. Guilt is like a cancer. I have never experienced it myself, but they all tell me that is what it is like.” She chuckled at her wit.

She tapped her fingers on the table and continued. “Willy Holst never admitted to doing it. But after we questioned several of the technical staff and let Akia — Tash — off the hook I knew that it was either Will or your mother.” She grinned at Adam. “They both had much to gain from autonomy you see — to have the whole colony to themselves to partake in their misguided fantasy. Frankly, though, your mother was too much of his lapdog. She never had the strength of will to make it happen. You know that he loved her? Just like a puppy. She left him after he was housetrained.”

Adam never thought that there was a suitor before his father. If there was a man, there was no way she would fall for such a tight-assed bureaucrat. It was clear that this woman Heldren knew nothing and had burned her ties with Holst years before. They were at a dead end. What a waste of time.

It was Maggie that stood. “I think we learned all we can here.”

Heldren closed her eyes, her skull shone through her forehead. They were talking to an apparition, floating in the past with no future left.

As they stepped out the door, Heldren followed, her arms crossed. “When I was security director, I installed small hidden cameras in the airlocks of the colony. They allowed me to monitor the movement of contraband, items that were not sanctioned by the company. Wait a minute.” She turned back into her brightly lit surroundings.

Sarah and Maggie glanced at Adam uncertainly.

He shrugged. “Mom and Holst? No way.”

Heldren reappeared, her skin thin as rice paper. She faded further in those few moments. A small, black puck weighed heavily in her hand. “This is the interface to the cameras. The images only record when the locks are being used; the cameras have high compression. They may still be recording to this day. Remarkable technology. Shame to see some nasty bioengineered slime eat it all up.” She handed it to Adam. “I really do wish you the best of luck.”

Heldren faded in the doorway. Adam began to believe that Holst and his mother had a complicated history.

Chapter 7 – Past Loves

Holst brought young Ferris to the cavern a few days after she arrived on mars. All was darkness and then light. She was raised in a small village in northern North America, far away from the sprawling cities. The sky was always so crisp; the tradewinds wound through the forest from the ocean, embracing her in a blanket of brine — the exhalation of life itself. The cavern had no wind. Mars had no ocean. But she would conjure up the very essence of life in those depths.

Light was the first brush stroke on her canvas. The generators thrummed and the artificial plasma panels shone with solar brilliance. With cells and water and her very own breath, she would bring this world to life, even as the one she left was quickly dying. She knew this by the very smell of the ocean during her last day on earth. Stepping on that transport to mars was the worst decision of her life, but the only viable one. The wind on earth was becoming dull, lackluster. Decay assaulted her nostrils. There was no looking back. She would be the center of it all — a new garden, a novel opportunity.

While she extracted the best from all the brilliant minds around her, she found herself slowly spinning around the one that had empowered her. Holst was the provider, the enabler, the critic, and the goad. He wasn’t too bad to look at either. He grasped what was deep inside her and pulled it out so that it could bask in the sunlight and thrive. As the cavern began responding to her whims, she lost track of time and space. Was it days or perhaps months she spent in that underground playground bringing her world to life? When she momentarily rose from the mist, Holst was there to provide what she needed.

One afternoon she stopped to rest. She closed her eyes and inhaled. She swore the ocean breeze had traveled across the void to greet her once again. Childhood was hers for so fleeting a moment. When she opened her eyes, she found herself no longer falling toward Holst but spinning freely on her own.

Chapter 8 – Birth

Adam had recently been born. Pinchot escaped the cries of her tiny son, leaving him in Jon’s able care, and was now awash in her element. Although she enjoyed the company of others and adored her family, she relished her time underground with the life — her life. The set of caverns on the planet served as replicates. As the caves converged or diverged from one another, she learned new and intimate things about the necessities of creating a secure, efficient ecological system in an inhospitable locale. Years passed in those caves as her tiny boy learned to roll, walk, and talk. Jon was present for these events. She was not.

Pinchot was working late one night in a remote underground ecosystem in the southern hemisphere of mars. Jon and Adam, who was now just five years old, were traveling earthside to meet with Jon’s uncle. The uncle was old and one of the last remaining Fuersts. It was time for Adam to realize that he had a bloodline that extended beyond the red planet. She wasn’t lonely. She had all that she needed in the soil forming beneath her feet. After all, there was a bit of Jon in it.

In this southern cavern, once a remote outpost during early mars exploration, she noticed that the algae, moss, and lichens occupying the space were acting strangely compared to those encrusting her other subterranean units. Magma created deep in the crust of the planet was very close to this cave. Warm, nutrient rich water bubbled from springs and was far superior to the manufactured water in most of the other caverns. She collected several samples and sent them to the microbiological labs. Within a day, her colleagues sent her some intriguing results. The microbes in the martian water were unique and very likely of unearthly origin.

When Adam and Jon returned, she found herself wanting to keep the discovery secret. The microbiologists inquired about the organisms but she reported that they had disappeared. She’d certainly provide the scientists with more samples if she found them. It was clearly a lie, but who was to question her? She found herself spending more time than necessary in this particular chamber. Strange things were happening. Lichens began glowing dimly. Algae were growing where no light penetrated, a feat impossible for photosynthetic creatures. An unprecedented merger was occurring between organisms from two planets. And then, there were the dreams.

Pinchot was a napper. She never slept a full night. Rather, she stretched out in a still spot either in her offices topside or on a clump of moss or grass in an underground lab and tumble into slumber. Her dreams were always vivid, occupied by all the smells, colors, and sounds of the world she wanted to make.

When she slept in this unique chamber though, her dreams diverted toward a darker but compelling place. Images and voices clung to a greenish mist. Some she recognized as friends and family long gone. Others were anonymous faces peering at her with serene countenance. Most troubling were the children, especially the grinning young boy who she recognized as a victim of the breach event. She’d known his mother, a talented chemistry teacher. The grief hung on that woman for years. The woman and her family eventually wandered back to earth, leaving a hole in their chemistry faculty and a twist in Pinchot’s gut.

When the figures began appearing during her waking moments, Pinchot suspected something was very wrong biologically or that she was losing her mind. She sampled the air and the water. The usual mixture of gasses and molecules were there, so she was not being poisoned by a chemical exhalation of one of the new life forms taking hold. Her mind seemed sound. No magical mystery tour for Ferris. The images, breathless words, and cold touches of the ghosts never appeared in her other experimental chambers or aboveground. She was convinced that whatever she was encountering was real and that it was related to the life evolving in the cavern.

Adam was seven when she made contact with one of the others. She was taking oxygen readings near a small pool of martian water. A hand, nearly solid, reached out of the liquid and touched her wrist. She dropped her computer and then saw or felt — it was difficult to process the sensation — a day on earth. Smoke snaking its way between ruined, cragged trees. Clouds, acrid and dull, wisped in fetid wind. The soil was cracked. No life. It was whispering. No life. She realized she was not experiencing the past but seeing a future. A future for earth.

She slipped from reality and floated in a world without substance. Light, sound, taste, touch — they all were mixed. Memories and premonitions were as substantive as the sun or the stars or the martian dust. At this moment, she knew that she was chosen. She needed to act. But not now. She would know when.

The next day she returned home to colony 1. Jon could sense a change in her. Not physical. She seemed her cheerful, somewhat spacy self. But he felt as if something had changed in her spiritually. If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn that she was glowing ever so slightly. Of course that was a trick of the light, how the sunshine and lamps reflected on her skin.

When Adam was ten, she awoke to an anxious voice on a transmitter. A technician in the southern region reported a catastrophic failure of the regional power grid. An unanticipated meteor impact had incapacitated several colonies. They were evacuating. Unknown to the technician, the cavern of ghosts, of solace, of depths beyond understanding was in danger as well. Its energy source was linked to the grid and would have grown dark and cold. She quickly rushed to a shuttle, spending the tense minutes at the helm nursing the sinking feeling one must have when their child is drowning and help is too far away. When she arrived, light and heat were gone, except at the location of the pool in which the two springs fed. By headbeam, she stumbled to the site and tucked a little of the water into a stasis container. It glowed for a few hours but then dimmed and died out.

It took three months to restore power to the grid. When the plasma panels hummed and artificial sun rose again in her cavern, she was amazed at the grief she felt as she scanned the brown, shriveled world before her. In the years to come, she tried to restore life to that place. Vegetation returned. But the ghosts did not.

Chapter 9 – Death

Adam and Maggie stood in the airlock where William Holst had taken his last breath of dry, artificial colony air. Adam fondled Heldren’s data puck in his hand. “Here we go,” he said as he placed his finger on the activation key. The puck became transparent. A small screen appeared on its surface indicating that the recording device was located and being accessed. Within a few moments, the accumulated images of thousands of lockages over decades were in his grasp. Somewhere within those digitized files were the final moments of Holst’s life.

They decompressed the files in Sarah’s lab. “I think I found it,” Sarah announced. “You all ready?”

Adam and Maggie nodded. And the imagery unfolded.

The camera faced the heavy airlock door. The panel that activated the lock was out of sight. Holst appeared in the video stepping backward — he was talking to someone, pleading. A small data pad sat loosely in his hand. He waved it, as if in offering to the unknown person.

“Maggie, was a data tablet found with Holst’s body or in the airlock?” Adam queried.

“No. But that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t overlooked out there. They were assuming a suicide, so no formal investigation occurred. They collected the stiff, dragged him inside, and that was the end of it. The death was caused by asphyxiation and decompression.”

In the shimmering scene, Holst’s shoulders slumped. He was resigned to his fate. He turned toward the airlock. Warning lights blinked, the doors opened, and the frail man walked into oblivion.

“Hm, wait a minute.” Sarah was pointing at a shadow on the wall to Holst’s left. “There’s a shadow when the light blinks. See?” She pointed at the screen’s grainy image.

The shadow was slim and unquestionably feminine in form.

“I think Holst had company,” Maggie muttered.

Adam knew the shadow belonged to his mother. “I need to go.”

Within moments, Adam powered up his shuttle and was en route to his mother’s most recent experiment — a patch of mosslands she was tending at the equator of the planet. His vessel settled near a tiny station, a shack really, where Pinchot and her staff were housed. Storage containers, all-terrain vehicles, canisters, and stray equipment littered the area. The air was balmy for mars, hovering just above freezing. Ferris and her crew would not be in the building. This time of day, high noon on mars, they were dispersed throughout the research zone collecting data, setting up experimental plots. Adam inspected his environmental suit. All colonists had a special relationship with their suits. The saying about babies on the planet was suit first, diaper second. The suit was the one assurance against a cold, unpleasant departure from life on the surface of mars.

Suit on, pressurized, and checked, Adam set out to find his mother. He followed a well-worn path between looming boulders and through deep crevasses until he came across a lean, lanky figure kneeling in the dust next to a path of emerald fuzz. The man stood. “Well, well, well. Adam Fuerst. What brings you here?” It was Henry Bodson, a close friend of his father and mother.

“Looking for mom. Is she near?”

“About a kilometer to the west.” He pointed down a rock shaded path.

“Thanks.” Adam began walking away.

“Congratulations on your promotion to Principal. You’ll be a great leader. I still can’t believe that little boy I used to swing around in the air is now the boss.”

“Thanks Henry.” Adam wondered whether Henry sensed the remorse and sadness in his voice over the communications line.

Adam marveled at the vast beauty of the terraformed mars landscape even as his life was spinning into confusion and disbelief. Life now adorned the rocks reflecting all colors of the rainbow. Signs of life on mars were far from a single shade of green. Rather, the lichens and algae were all colors — orange, purple, even maroon, accentuating the planet’s natural red dust. Given the time of day, there were few shadows and he was actually beginning to sweat. He adjusted the ventilation in his suit.

He shimmied around a boulder and there she was — Ferris Pinchot in her glory. Her hands rested on her hips as she stood surveying the landscape around her. Adam was dumbstruck. Before her stood a small plot of sturdy woody shrubs. “Vascular plants on mars?” The amazement was evident in his voice.

“Hello my boy.” She said without turning to him. “We may get these critters to stick. Did you know that the plants are starting to boost the local oxygen concentrations? We’re finally getting somewhere. Now if I can live another two centuries, I may get some satisfaction.” She laughed to herself. “I expect you’re not here to pay your old mother a social visit.”

Adam searched for the words. Was there a delicate way he could approach her? The little boy awed by his mother cowered in her shadow. Finally, the tension burst. The shadow fizzled.

“Were you with Holst the night he died?” Adam sat on a slab of basalt. There. It was done.

“Yes, Adam my dear, I was.” She walked toward him, brushed off dirt from the rock, and sat down next to her son. “You’re not the only one obsessed with those awful days before you were born. Strange how a horrible event could be filled with such opportunity. I guess that’s how it always goes.” She sighed. He did not look at her.

“Were you responsible?”

She seemed genuinely confused. “For the breach? Of course not. Your father and I could have easily died. And it interrupted our coffee break. We began to suspect Will early on though. He was very ambitious and a bit like me. Dreamed of turning this place into a garden. I think he was led astray by the company and was deluded into thinking the event would set us on a new, productive trajectory, which it did, even though there were unfortunate consequences.” She closed her eyes, chin lowered to her chest.

“So what happened the night he died?”

“It all started years ago. He confided in me. A deep, ugly secret. He had a weaponized version of the bacterial strain that caused the event. Something infinitely more dangerous to the colonies. In fact, he believed it could hobble entire civilizations. I spent years trying to guess where he kept it hidden. The solution was so obvious. But you know that already.” She touched his shoulder with her gloved hand.

Adam stiffened. “So you and Holst?”

“Years ago, Adam. Long ago, when I was young and lonely and so very sad and angry. Confused, really. I love your father, even if he was too willing to indulge me in my incessant tinkering. And in dragging you everywhere with me. I know that you feel so conflicted.” She paused, waiting for some response. Adam remained silent, hidden in his suit. “Well, back to your question about the night Will walked out onto the surface. He came to me with news that the vial was gone from his apartment and that we needed to get it back. I informed him that I had taken care of it.”

Adam suddenly felt very heavy, his feet unable to shift. “What do you mean by that, mom?”

“Earth, Adam. We are all exiles of our own blind indulgence. When you were a boy I met someone, or perhaps something, that made me realize that there’s no future there. For life. Life is so very rare. And I’m afraid we don’t understand even the half of it. There’s much more beneath the surface, below the molecules, the energy. Life is a doorway to something magnificent and exceptional. I simply cannot allow that to dim any further.”

Adam shifted slightly. “Mom, what did you do?”

She smiled sadly. Her blue eyes were now grey. “I’m unwinding it all. Earth will be my grandest garden.”

Chapter 10 – Separation

Adam felt the ground tilt. He fought back the urge to rip off his helmet and stared blankly at his mother. She walked back to the vegetation and resumed collecting data. He called to her repeatedly. But she was either ignoring him or had shut off her communications link. He left her to her casual tinkering and rushed back to the shuttle.

Tuning in the general communications network, he accessed hundreds of media reports — the chatter on both mars and earth. All was quiet, except for the usual bad news — starvation, skirmishes, droughts, fires, a massive hurricane raging up the Atlantic, and an earthquake in the Antarctic provinces. If a catastrophic event was occurring, it was not yet apparent. And did his mother force Holst onto the surface? Should he call security and have them bring her in? All of his confidence and drive had vanished. For once, he did not know what to do.

Maggie met Adam at the shuttle that evening back at Colony 1. “First, we need to determine whether your mother arranged any shipments to earth recently,” Maggie calmly noted. “Did she say that she sent the contents of the vial to earth?” Maggie’s command soothed Adam’s panic.

Adam paced back and forth in the cargo berth. “She never said that exactly. But I know in my heart that’s what she intends to do. She’s had it for a year and nothing has happened. So, I’m assuming that she hasn’t pulled the trigger.”

“Then we need to first get her into custody and then we need to find the vial and destroy it. Adam, I know you are beholden to her. But this is your greatest responsibility to all of us. God knows how many lives are at risk here.”

“I’ll make the call.” Adam was about to put the most popular person on the planet and the love of his life into prison. He was crumpling. The little boy was screaming.

In the very same drab room in which Tash was questioned long ago, Pinchot Ferris sat serenely. Jon stood over Adam in the passageway. “Son, you’ve got to be kidding me. There’s no way your mom had anything to do with Holst or the bacteria.” His voice betrayed his lack of certainty. All those years she spent in her gardens. The changes he saw gradually occurring in her personality. It was clear that she had changed. She seemed a stranger to him. Yet another soul had faded in his life.

“Listen to her comments dad.” And Adam walked into the room to confront his mother once again. Jon followed.

“Mom, it is very important. Where is the vial?”

“Adam, sweetheart, it’s far too late. I’ve set this in motion. Actually, it began long before you were born.”

“Mom. You’re a scientist. Rationality, you know? Please quit speaking in riddles.”

“I shipped the biomaterial to earth two weeks ago. It was in several time release capsules headed to various regions of the planet. By the time you intercept it, you’ll be unable to stop it from spreading everywhere. Nothing short of a nuclear holocaust across the surface will be able to stop it.”

Maggie was listening in the adjacent room and bolted out toward the nearest computer network terminal. She had already prepared a long list of shipping manifests to search.

Adam glanced at the door and saw Maggie rush by. He tasted bile. “Thanks mom. Now, what happened between you and Will Holst the night he died?”

“I killed him. He wanted to stop me. I had no choice. It was his time anyway.” Her calm was unnerving. She sipped her steaming cup of tea.

Adam and Jon did not exchange glances. They turned and left the room. Pinchot was escorted back to her cell.

“I need to contact the Prime Minister on earth,” Adam stammered.

Maggie walked in, her face contorted. “You’re too late. Earth has lost contact with the colonies and the nauron government. Security forces in the region are claiming that vessels leaving earth are disintegrating before they leave orbit. It’s horrible.”

Adam ran from the room and barely reached the toilet before retching uncontrollably.

Chapter 11 – Falling

Excerpt from book entitled “A History of the Terra Institute”:

Shortly following his election to Principal of the Institute and leader of the mars colonies, Adam Fuerst became the first president of what is now known as “exiled humanity”. Exiled humanity was comprised of the mars colonies, various space stations, and the humans on the three colonized planets and nauron.

Earth was no longer approachable by vessels of any kind. What is known about the events on earth is largely speculative. Scholars believe a terrorist attack of unknown origin devastated all technological material on the planet within a few weeks. The material that caused this devastating event is unknown. The best guess is that it was a fabricated nano-weapon (i.e., small machines) able to replicate exponentially and designed to destroy artificial materials. Communications was lost instantly. Direct contact with the surface became immediately impossible.

Orbital satellites and low orbit robotic flights continue to monitor earth to this day. The human population of 35 billion on earth before the event has declined to an estimated 15 million. The inhabitants are largely hunter-gatherers with limited agriculture. A small network of villages with pre-industrial technology has arisen in the northwestern North American continent.

According to the Institute, atmospheric concentrations of pollutants have declined to pre-industrial levels. Species of mammals and birds on the surface have rebounded. High performance images suggest that rapid evolution has occurred and many new species of animals and plants appear to inhabit the planet. Most remarkably, carbon dioxide concentrations have declined and the planet has cooled considerably. An ice cap has reappeared at the north magnetic pole.

During Fuerst’s time, several attempts were made to contact the humans stranded on the surface. However, every probe or ship attempting to surface on the planet was lost. It was apparent that the nano-weapons were still active. In recent years, forays to the planet’s surface have been made by robotic surveyors. The Institute still forbids direct contact by humans or other sentient species. Also, no probe or vessel landing on earth’s surface is allowed to return to space, lest the unidentified weapon be unleashed on the remainder of the galaxy.

The likelihood that the humans remaining on the surface would be able to adapt to the technological life we now enjoy is low. Earth has become a large reserve for life and a valued crucible for remote ecological and sociological research by Institute scientists.

Almost immediately following the devastating events on earth, Pinchot Ferris (link to: Dr. Pinchot Ferris) fell into reclusion. She became inactive in research and was rarely seen. She appeared at Fuerst’s first inaugural speech but was absent during his subsequent inaugurals. She is believed to have died shortly after the birth of her first granddaughter, Margaret Pinchot Fuerst. Maggie Fuerst produced a long line of talented and influential Institute scientists that shape progress to this day.

Chapter 12 – Rebirth

Adam never accepted that his mother was capable of genocide. He didn’t have much time to dwell about it during those weeks following the loss of earth. His life was steeped in being a leader, ordering reconnaissance, trying to arrange relief to the billions of starving, thirsty people, and foremost, trying to determine a way to stop the progression of an aggressive, terrifying microbe about which he knew nothing.

Maggie, Jon, Sarah, and Adam had entered into an unspoken agreement to not implicate Pinchot in the event. After all, she would have to be tried by an objective panel before guilt could be assessed. She may have simply gone insane, was fabricating her story, and this was a bizarre coincidence. Of course, they knew this was untrue. But this false thought kept them from descending into their own form of madness. They had another reason to remain silent. Announcing to the remainder of humanity that their chosen leader’s mother was potentially responsible for the worst disaster in history would undermine Adam’s authority, fracture ties with the naurons, and cause chaos to reign completely.

Maggie and Sarah spent countless days sifting through Tash’s old research notes with no success. A solution had to exist somewhere. They searched diligently for any trace of information left by Holst. He either destroyed it or sent it earthside to his mysterious contact. If Pinchot knew anything, she wasn’t going to tell them. They were spinning on a carousel that would not stop. If Maggie closed her eyes, she saw the brightly colored animals around her — horses that she never had a chance to touch or ride on earth. As the world spun around her in wild streaks, she knew that mars was the home of the space-faring human race now. Humanity was about to diverge into two species.

Two months of zero contact with earth had shaken Adam. He sat in his office looking across the horizon at Jupiter brightly rising. In contrast, earth was barely visible — a dim blue star high in the sky. His forces tried dropping food and supplies on earth from orbit. But how do you rescue billions of people from space with a few care packages?

Reports from the various satellites and recon flights were discouraging. Entire cities had been engulfed in flames and were now dark cinders. The surface of the planet, once brightly lit at night, was pitch — dark as velvet. Surprisingly few people were visible on the surface. He did not know whether they had killed each other or had moved underground. He doubted that survival would be high. So few people knew how to raise food or fish. Few animals remained to hunt. Even clean, fresh water depended on technology, as it was now, or rather was, collected by massive atmospheric condensers. The strong and selfish probably hoarded any remaining reserves and left their subordinates to starve. One horrific report from low orbit suggested that cannibalism was occurring in some regions. The blue gem suspended in the heavens was stained in crimson blood.

“Adam, what are you planning to do?” Maggie walked in and sat on the edge of his desk. She stared at the sky as well.

He sat silently for a long time. “We move on. We continue our research. We do not allow worlds to become overpopulated and overused. We fill space with thousands of habitable worlds.”

Chapter 13 – Probes Have Feelings Too

Adam’s eyes had long closed and returned to the cosmic dust. Centuries passed. And the reach of life stretched through the galactic haze. Philosophers and scientists realized that the promising planets were seldom exciting. They didn’t shine like jewels in their orbits, begging for a second look. Not one boasted high gravity or tempestuous storms or magma fountains spouting grandly into the sky. Gas giants were too boisterous. The tiny chunks of rock spinning wildly around their white-hot stars were too risky. Rather, the planets that won the attention and acclaim from those living and pondering (and still searching for profit) in the galaxy were monochromatic lumps of dirt and water, taking no risks as they revolved around their yawning, yellow stars. The mundane, overlooked things held the most potential in the universe.

In an unobtrusive patch of space a narrow beam of radiation carried an urgent message across a vast distance. The creator of this little arc of information was a tiny probe not much larger than a hummingbird — nothing exciting to look at — a drab ping pong ball in space. But it had a bold announcement to make. In tiny letters on its side were the words Data Logging Orbital Satellite 7C, circa 7150, Terra Institute. This mechanical culmination of centuries of science and technology from four intelligent species, was ticking through its standard systems checks as it completed its umpteenth orbit around Planet C9. It was created to think a little, enough to decide when to adjust its right acension and declination in orbit and to make minor repairs to its primary systems when hit by a stray cosmic ray or a chunk of debris. With this wisp of intelligence, it faintly recognized the import of its discovery.

The northern regions of the craggy, foggy ball of dirt and rock rotating beneath its belly were starting to stir.

The activity in the northern hemisphere would have measured as no more than a minor electrical glitch in the atmosphere of most planets, but for Planet C9, it was extraordinary. Sparks and flashes jumped playfully where they certainly shouldn’t be. As the faint light show reflected on the probe’s ceramic sensors, the satellite’s circuits jumped to life and started streaming data homeward, if such a place really existed.

Transmissions telling the probe what to do originated from that hallowed place in deep space, so something must be out there, guiding it, caring about it. If a machine could be described as excited about sending a message — a mechanical prayer perhaps — to its apparent maker, so it was.

Chapter 14 – The Platform

Goodness was Verat Wilcoxin tired. He was on the downward slide of a second shift in the remote sensing deck of the space station. Everyone called the station the Platform. To Verat, it was his hell in space. Just a few more double or perhaps triple shifts and he would earn the time to rotate off the Platform for a few months. Maybe he would head home for a bit. There was the mandatory psych evaluation and additional training at the Institute, of course. No getting around that. But he would do his best to slack through those exercises and spend time enjoying real gravity in real sunshine. Verat was a direct descendent of one of the Founding Families — linked to Pinchot Ferris in fact. This distinction allowed him liberties that others from less fortunate bloodlines could not enjoy.

Verat was cruising through his mid thirties and wondering when the excitement — the reason for life — might hit him in the face. He was drifting in this deep space assignment. It was better than being near his family. His childhood was spent in misery… living, rather existing, in a cold, emotionless void. Parents dead. Uncle and aunt constantly reminding him of his worthless existence. His parents left him with debt and a pedigree, but little else. All in the past he reassured himself. No need to dwell on the disappointments of life. A little alcohol and lots of strong tea were the waves that washed him away from the shores of despair.

His fists firmly massaged his eyeballs when a small blue light began pulsing on the master console in remote sensing. An alert technician wouldn’t miss this obvious announcement. However, Verat was heading for the lift, prepared to call it the end of a long day when a voice made him jump.

“Dr. Wilcoxin. The probe array has detected an anomaly. How shall we proceed?”

He stopped, stared at his toes peeking back at him from his sandals, and sighed. The Platform’s human-machine interface (HM, as in ho-hum) annoyed the spit out of him. HM was more vexing than many of his colleagues — more like a physical manifestation of his conscience, plaguing him at all hours throughout the many decks of the station. From HM, unlike his conscience, there was no escape.

“Ok. I’ll take a bite. Where’s the signal coming from?”

“Orbital Probe 7C. Located at 57 degrees north. Anomalous energy patterns on the surface and subsurface. Not of terra-formed origin.”

“Is it malfunctioning? You better not be wasting my time here. I’m tired and don’t need to do your job for you.”

“Dr. Wilcoxin it is unlikely that it is a malfunction.”

Verat was further irked. “Well, you mechanical nitwit, send probes 6C and 3C over there and bother me when you have confirmed that it is a real thing on the planet and not some burp in the probe. Leave me alone until I get some sleep. When are we finally going to program you things to think on your own?”

As the lift descended, he was followed by the omnipresent voice, “Very well. Probes are being redeployed. Good night, Dr. Wilcoxin.”

The Platform was an organic thing, much like the planets it was built to develop and monitor. The omnipresent Family Collective commissioned it over two hundred years earlier. A ship was always bringing something new and useful to the growing station. Occasionally some obsolete section was being removed or reconditioned. In an apparent but certainly unintentional contradiction, the station was fashioned as a huge cube in space — in angular contrast to the celestial globes to which it was dedicated. The big space cube was not quite planetary in scale — yet. But it was vast by any scale of architecture. Each side of the Platform spanned hundreds of kilometers. It was massive enough to generate its own gravity, which required constant compensation by its fusion reactors. The Platform was at risk of buckling under its own mass.

Surprisingly, the Platform’s complement of sentients, as humans and the three other known intelligent species in the charted galaxy called themselves, was quite light.

Most of the creatures — both organic and artificial — bustling throughout the structure was there to tend to the needs of the Platform and its small group of scientists, engineers, and soldiers. One-third of the structure was dedicated to power generation. Nearly the remainder of the cube was composed of experimental decks. These were vast environmental chambers isolated in cold, empty space, allowing for secure terraforming experiments with no risk of contamination to inhabited planets. If it were sliced in half, it would resemble a busy ant farm in a child’s study.

Stepping into Verat’s vacant position in the remote observatory was Grey Commons. Grey was a year older than Verat and wiry, with the forward stoop of a dedicated runner. He enjoyed spending hours jogging throughout the many passageways and portals of the Platform. Stretching his back, he scanned his surroundings. As expected, the data logs were a mess and the observation area was unkempt — typical style for Verat. Crumbs littered the control panels. Grey muttered under his breath as he began sifting through the night’s paperwork and, of course, spilling a cup of cold tea on a data pad.

“Hello Dr. Commons, additional data streams arriving from deployed probes. Would you like to open a new case file?”

Grey was confused. “HM. You scared the crap out of me. What are you talking about? I don’t know anything about a case? What happened with Verat?”

“Anomalous data stream confirmed with replicate probes. Planetary activity recorded. Energy source unknown but coherent.”

Grey’s eyes widened as he began compiling the terrabytes of data accumulating in the central console. “Yeah, HM, you’re right. Open a new case file. Call it unknown activity. Dammit, Verat is dropping the ball again. I am going to wring him like a sponge.” He tapped on the flashing blue light and it dimmed.

Like Verat, Grey descended from a long line of exoecologists within the Founding Family Collective of the Terra Institute. The thought made him feel queasy most of the time, as if the weight of his lineage would create a critical mass, eventually causing him to collapse in a fury of dense, unfulfilled obligations.

Boy, that would be a great fireworks display he thought.

Still, he had a genuine passion for biology in his gut and he desperately wanted to understand the processes of biotransformation at a planetary scale. And to see the first colonists breath deeply of bioengineered air, experience their first spring on a new planet, would fill him with such satisfaction. Sweet closure — an opportunity to fondly savor the memory of his father and feel his dreaded familial burden lift into space.

The Platform, perched in its position in deep, cold, lifeless space, may have seemed to be a strange place for scientists so thoughtful and entranced by the wonders of organisms and their relationships. In many ways, though, it offered a much more diverse set of opportunities than a single planet for the biologically inclined.

The experimental decks were vast in scale and terrain. With the aid of a nearly limitless power source, the energy pumped into these levels was solar-like. The photosynthetic potential was considerable and with that came the opportunity for the researchers to tinker endlessly.

Of course, each deck required a set of key autotrophic organisms — creatures that could capture the artificial sunlight, transforming the energy into useful molecules, rich with potential. The plants required to get things cooking in a new deck were not the broad-leaved, veined and barked trees and bushes reaching for the sky in forests on so many worlds. Rather, the key to terraforming was in the realm of the microscopic. In this miniature world, tiny organisms held the capacity to do miraculous things with sunshine, making all the building blocks necessary for bulkier and needier life forms in a terraformed world. Best of all, these single-celled manufacturing plants reproduced quickly and came in all manner of flavors. Some specialized in sugars, others in fats — some synthesized molecules so novel that the substances had yet to be discovered and named by biochemists. Each variety of microbe was responsible for something essential to the bigger organisms to arrive later. In a matter of a few days, an entire deck would be dripping with microbial ooze, bathed in fake sunlight and bursting with the potential for life to come.

Grey was jogging through one of these decks earlier in the day. This particular area was advancing nicely. His research crew had started a simulation in this deck with a new set of microbes, consisting of thousands of species. These creatures had quickly colonized the artificial hills, lakes, streams, and fields that Grey and his colleagues had configured on the deck. Within each nook and cranny of the artificial landscape, different groups of microbes had already found ideal homes, leading to a rich canvas for the next phase of the experiment. Grey could smell the palpable potential for life.

The microbes were changing the climate of the deck. Some creatures formed dense mats, reflecting the artificial sunshine onto his skin, bathing him in warmth. In other areas, pillars of microbial colonies were growing from the simulated soil, creating areas of delicious shade. It always amazed him how such tiny things could create such large and diverse masterpieces in such a short time. The small artificial lakes and streams were fizzing with the bubbles of life, emitting various gases that would moderate the atmosphere in profound ways.

Of course, relying on centuries of past research, Grey had a fairly good idea about how the experiment would proceed. The computational models were robust and typically produced reliable predictions. But surprises were always expected — that’s how they learned new things.

Grey pushed the communications button and linked to Verat’s quarters.

“Verat, wake, the hell, up,” he huffed.

A few seconds passed and Grey repeated his call, rolling his eyes. Finally the screen flickered and a bedraggled head appeared in shimmering, holographic technicolor. Stubble, eye goop, and creases on a cheek. Verat’s appearance was dismal. He spit out something, mouthwash? whisky? in a wash basin to the left of the screen. “Wha? Grey is that you? Did you see that 7C is malfunctioning? I meant to warn you about that, but HM had to wrassle up some additional satellites probes. I could’ve waited around. But I needed shut eye.”

“No, you dip. 7C is working fine. Thanks for leaving this to me. You have been doing this to me since we were kids. Always dropping the serious stuff in my lap. Forget it. No point in going off on you. Won’t make a difference.” Grey slumped back in his chair. “What do you think it is this time?”

“I think we got some campers cooking marshmallows on the surface. And probably making drugs. This is a job for Fromer and his people. I am going back to sleep. I feel like I’ve been dragged through the recycler and spit back out onto a deck.”

“Not this time for God’s sake. If you’d wean yourself off that strong tea, you’d not have this problem. Get down here. Several sectors of the frigging northern hemisphere are blinking on and off. Unless someone has invaded the surface and the subsurface, this has got to be geothermal, not some smugglers or pirates crawling around.”

“Blah. I’ll be up in a few minutes. Be a dear and put on some tea for me — the strong stuff.” The image blinked out as Verat began scratching his nose.

Grey closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and walked over to the observatory’s kitchen to boil some water. Tea in its endless flavors, colors, strengths, and aromas was Verat’s greatest weakness. His habit of always wandering with a warm cup had worn off on most of the crew. An entire deck was devoted to growing different strains cultivated from the leaves of plants from a dozen planets. Verat was reknowned for his ability to grow, harvest, dry and mix hundreds of different tea blends. Each was very unique and typically very potent. Some were great for staying alert, others were calming, and a few would render the drinker helplessly trippy for many hours. Grey knew that the best way to garner Verat’s support was to make sure he had a bracing cup in his hand.

Chapter 15 – Revelation

“What we have here is a genuine event,” Gorian Mestrian exclaimed as she planted her feet on the table, her fuzzy wool socks in plain view.

Footwear was pretty much optional on the station. Given the lack of an outside to track indoors, most of the staff lumbered around without shoes or with feet adorned by slippers. In fact, dress code was pretty lax. It wasn’t unusual to spend the day in a pair of flannel pajamas and a lab coat. The only time attire was important was when the staff scientists and technicians were mucking about on an experimental deck or near the reactors.

Cross contamination would be a cause for instant dismissal. Whole experiments could be ruined. Worse, because the reactors worked on a combination of nuclear and biochemical reactions, a stray strain of microbial life could jeopardize the Platform’s very existence by plunging the power station into the engineering version of a very bad cold or more omniously, an incurable cancer.

“Ok folks. Pay attention. Here’s what we have to date,” Grey announced, pointing at the image forming holographically at the center of the table. “About 20 hours ago, three probes around experimental planet C9 began transmitting some really funky patterns. We may have had more time to gather information, but Verat here decided to clock out.” He glared at the dark, slouching figure in the corner. “Ten hours ago, the patterns stopped and all has been quiet.”

Verat interrupted, crinkling his nose. “Gorian, when was the last time you changed your socks?”

Gorian put her feet down with a frown. “My feet smell rosy. You might consider your own hygiene, my friend. You reek of some kind of weed mixed with liquor. What’s in that cup of yours? It looks like peat and smells awful.”

“Want some?” Verat growled. “May bring you down back to us commoners.”

Grey dropped his head. “Verat and Gorian, chrissakes, we need to take these results seriously. None of the simulations remotely predicted geothermal feedback.” He glanced up at the suspended holographic sphere hovering above the table. The image was cloaked in dense, tan and white clouds. Grey could not help thinking about the caramels he hoarded as a kid. Buttery goodness in a planet.

As the faux planet spun lazily in front of the primary investigators of the C9 project, the clouds parted and amber tendrils of light appeared in little flashes scattered across the northern hemisphere of the globe. If he squinted, Grey would have bet a week’s pay that he saw the surface peeking out at him, green and slick.

But that was impossible. Planet C9 or Nine as most of the principles called it was a typical cloud planet — atmosphere dominated by swirls of water vapor, humidity so great that a few moments on the rocky surface without an away suit would be akin to walking into a very oppressive sauna, with no escape.

Not that the time spent sweating would be lethal. The air was now breathable after nearly four decades of pre-conditioning by the machinations of several of the principles’ family members. Their intent was to make the planet habitable for sentients, allowing them to live in peace, grow families, and build a history there.

Within a century — give or take a decade or two — their goals would be achieved. By then, much of the water suspended in the atmosphere would be captured in plants and animals or condensed in lakes and streams. The terraforming process was like wringing out a sponge. The planet wouldn’t quite be Eden, but it would be close. For now, though, the planet was an embryo gently swaying in its womb. Embryos were pretty unsightly, but the babies were awfully cute.

“Well, whatever occurred is now over-for the moment,” Gorian noted. “This buys us some time to analyze the results and plan for additional recon. I’m ready to cook up some toys for sampling on the surface.”

Gorian was awash in her element in the station, always happiest when surrounded by fabricated things. Transmission wires, fiber optics, plastic, rare metal panels, quantum computers, the hum of an engine deep below-decks. These were peaceful reminders of the capacity of intelligent design. Design that she understood deeply and nearly completely.

She loved wandering among the machinery, monitoring the energy budget of the station, and dreaming of ways to improve efficiency. If there was one thing she really disliked about the Platform, it was some of her fellow crewmates — the ones that didn’t seem vested in their job — especially that deplorable hack Verat Wilcoxin. It was obvious that Verat considered her a challenge to be overcome. After all, she was young, bright, athletic, and mildly attractive, in a willowy sort of way. Her adolescence was spent worrying about the length of her limbs relative to her body — arms and legs too long, gawky. Again, there was the latent engineer in her looking for the golden ratio. She was failing miserably as a physical specimen, and was certain this made her a pariah to her peers.

It occurred to her years later that she was indeed desirable to many boys — but perhaps it was the comfort she found in inanimate things that made her inaccessible. Too much time tinkering with computer algorithms and designing molecular clocks, not enough time talking and taking interest in social play. Aloof Gorian. But fairly happy. Machines never disappointed you — they could always be improved.

Perhaps the closest sentient to Gorian on station was her colleague, or perhaps friend, known by everyone as Iggy. The origin of the moniker was long forgotten. No one knew Iggy’s real name, although rumor held that it was impossible to pronounce or comprehend for that matter. The staff was even uncertain about what pronoun to use. Iggy’s species — nauron — was hermaphroditic, containing both sex organs. So, to the crew, Iggy was sheit — a unique pronoun that Iggy did not seem to mind. Iggy did not possess vocal cords and communicated via pseudotelepathy. An implant in sheit’s brain transmitted vocal signals via radiowave. These were then translated into understandable English — most of the time.

A crackle on the communications speaker from Iggy, “Verat and Grey, are you certain that the anomalous patterns were geothermal in origin?” Sheit was eating a bar of chocolate and staring at Verat with his or her large grey eyes. Thick lids slowly closed and opened over two broad, glistening orbs. “Could climate be interacting with biologics in some way?” Sheit took another bite if chocolate, the bar snapping in his/her mouth.

Grey shook his head. “I don’t think so Ig. Storms are rare on Nine. When storms do happen, they’re localized and never generate much electrical buzz. As you all know, Nine was selected because it’s boring. Lots of water in the air but not much thermal differences around the globe. Nothing to make bad weather. As for biological activity, there’s been some evidence on other planets that pockets of growth of plants can begin to kick up storms. But nothing is advanced enough on the surface yet. We’re still in the primary developmental stage — just a bunch of goo and simple vascular plants sorting themselves out on the surface.”

Verat sipped his tea, which was perking him up nicely. “Thanks for the enlightened comments, Grey, my buddy. So geothermal is what we’re thinking. Of course, all of the geological surveys suggest that this hunk of rock hasn’t as much as belched over the past ten thousand years. So, that’s a bit puzzling. That’s one of the reasons we didn’t place many seismic detectors on the surface. If there was an earthquake or some sort of outgassing from the subsurface or even a volcano, the nearest detectors were too far away to pick up the activity. Basically, we blew it. Or more appropriately the surveyors who worked on this rock a hundred years ago were idiots. I’m sure if Grey or Gorian were in charge this wouldn’t be an issue.”

“Verat, we don’t need the historical commentary. But thanks for the confidence in our current staff.” Grey glared.

“Fromer has been consulted, correct?” Iggy sounded as if sheit was talking through a muffler.

“Yup, my amphibious colleague.” Verat replied. “If it was bad guys, the sky net sensors in infraspace would’ve picked something up in that quadrant. All that was bouncing around out there were a few stray asteroids, a routine maintenance mission, and one of our supply vessels. Fromer is certain no one is mucking about the surface making campfires or whatnot.”

Gorian was giddy. “I’ll start designing some seismic probes. We can deploy them on the surface and let them disperse. When they skim through the atmosphere, they’ll route data back to a bunch of autonomous watchdogs in orbit, directing their movement if anything interesting kicks up. I can design these things to go supersonic if need be. They can respond in a flash. I have this great new propulsion design—”

“Slow down there G,” Grey interrupted. “We’ll need to consult the Council. But it can’t hurt to start some preliminary designs. Keep me updated.

And with that, the meeting was over. The crew filed out of the conference area with the exception of Grey who stood motionless, staring at the fuzzy brown ball. Here he was, Science Commander Commons, at a strange place in his career. The next steps were in his control. Nothing would happen until he could figure out whether he should tell the Families what happened or simply blame the event on a malfunction, letting things slide on calmly.

Chapter 16 – The Alien

Fromer was drinking again. Alone. Glowing slightly in his dark quarters. His unique physiology made alcohol particularly fetching to his human side. Just a thimble of a clear spirit like vodka would send his senses tingling. His zenatan side, however, did not appreciate the drink. He suffered immensely when the euphoria waned. Fromer was a hybrid and because of this he often escaped the conflicts of his dual heredity by letting his defenses slip away for a short break. Some distilled fermented potato starch from old earth did the trick.

When humans first encountered the zenat species in deep space, it was a strange, tense time. The zenats were profoundly suspicious and not at all driven by the same wanderlust and curiosity that afflicted humanity.

However, the zenats were suffering from many of the same troubles plaguing the intelligent hominids from earth. The zenat home planet was overcrowded, resources were declining, and quite frankly their world was wearing out — just like earth. They needed room to grow beyond their boundaries. After decades of strained diplomacy, the two species agreed to create a small cadre of intermediaries, not of both worlds and of both worlds. Hybrids would be created that had no preference or allegiance to either species. These individuals would serve the diplomatic and security needs of both races, saving the zenats the discomfort of directly interacting with humans.

Fromer’s first memory was a whirl of lab coats, bright light, and a strange whirring, which turned out to be his breath. He was about four years old and being cared for by a zenatan nurse named Darce. Darce looked somewhat similar to Fromer. He had dark black eyes, with no whites. When the nurse rolled up his sleeves, Fromer could see that Darce’s skin was hard and tough, and when he held Darce’s hand on walks outside, it was very cool to the touch. While Darce’s skin was deep green, Fromer wondered why his skin was pale brown and slightly thinner. Darce was completely hairless, while Fromer had a nub of brownish hair growing on the top of his head. Darce was the kindest person Fromer ever met. When Fromer was five, he never saw Darce again.

At age six, Fromer was integrated with a group of other hybrid children. These were his first friends and they were a ragged lot. Well fed, surly, and exceptionally bright, the boys scuffled constantly, competed over the best desserts, and loved to play soccer during their short breaks from study. The Quarters was the name of the compound that harbored them — home for the penultimate bastard children of the galaxy. Throughout his life, Fromer never learned where in the galaxy this planet he called home during his short childhood was perched. He was certain it was neither earth nor zenat. The sky did not match those in the astronomy publications he scanned each night by the light of his viewing screen. The planet had to be far from the galactic center because the stars in sky were distant and sparse. Their surroundings were comfortable enough, but still sterile and cold, lacking the trappings of a culture to anchor them. Looking back, Fromer recalled the many nights where he and his bunkmates would stay up late speculating about things most boys must dream about in the galaxy.

One quiet evening Fromer and his close friend Mup were whispering to each other between their beds. Insect-like creatures were whirring outside the window, doing what organisms on countless planets were designed to do except for them — attract mates and reproduce. The light of the triple moons flickered on the walls like ripples on a pond. The pair of hybrid children could have been easily mistaken for two human boys staying up past lights out during a camping trip, except for their slighty luminescent skin, deep, black eyes, diminutive noses, and exceptionally long fingers. A closer examination would reveal that no air was moving past their lips. Rather, they respired through small holes in their abdomen. Spiracles, Teacher called them.

Mup was the brightest of the boys. He also was the smallest and received the brunt of much pokes and jabs from his peers. His skin lacked hair and he glowed more brightly than the others. The running joke among the boys was that the scientists dropped his test tube in the lab when they were making him. He was what they were able to mop up — hence his name: Mup the mop. Sometimes Mup believed them.

“I think we are going to be special police”, Mup speculated to Fromer in the twinkling starlight. “I hear that the space pirates are getting really bad out there. Maybe they will let us use weapons soon.”

Fromer chuckled. “I wish that was true. I overheard the teachers talking about us becoming diplomats. I looked it up. Diplomats do not seem to do much of anything except spend their time talking and trying to get groups to agree on things.”

“How boring. Why do we have to do that? I want to blow things up, fly ships, explore. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes, I understand”, Fromer sighed, turning toward the wall and looking at his hands. The future was defined for them. Even at their tender age, Fromer felt his freedom tugging at him, telling him that so much more was possible than what the teachers were feeding them in the classroom.

The planet held some unexpected pleasures and surprises for the boys. When they reached eleven, they were shuttled out to a new location far beyond the Quarters. The school and housing compound in which they lived during the past few years was fashioned as a strange amalgam of earth and zenat structures. A classic twentieth-century-style earth home, with shingles, wood siding, glass-paned windows, and even a stone fireplace would be nestled next to a classical zenat dwelling with rounded doors, metallic shutters, and vegetated roofs. A trademark of zenat structures was a lack of corners, because corners were considered bad luck. Thus, all zenat buildings were fashioned in sweeping curves. The angularity of the human architecture and fluidity of the zenat buildings were sharp reminders of the differences in approach and philosophy of the two species — a chasm these boys were designed to span.

The transport vessel hummed softly as it hovered over the rocks and grasses — no need for roads when everything flew. Teacher turned to the boys in the transport telling them that their new home was visible on the horizon. They stood up and peered at the front view screen.

Looming ahead, a large hill — no, it was an artificial structure — rose abruptly from the flat, sparsely vegetated plain on which they were traveling. The structure was built in the zenat style — a huge dome, awash in earth tones of brown, green, and grey, appearing as if it was an extension of the soil below it. As the transport vehicle approached the building, a door rolled open and the boys found themselves in a new world. Mup shifted excitedly in his seat. Fromer could only look up. The roof of the dome was so high it was barely visible. The lighting was mostly natural, sun shining through huge translucent portholes in the sky. More amazing was the lush greenery above. The expanse between each porthole was completely carpeted by thick vegetation — vines, shrubs, even what looked like trees growing downward rather than up. Within these vast suspended fields, Fromer could see birds and other winged organisms darting among the branches and leaves. The walls of the dome were lined with various sizes and shapes of buildings, reminding Fromer of cells within an insane honeybee’s hive. Plants were everywhere that buildings were not.

When Fromer’s neck grew tired of gawking at the roof, he soaked in the remainder of his surroundings. The floor of the dome was a promenade so large that one side was only hazily apparent from its opposite. Transport vessels, humans, zenatans, a few slick naurons, small domesticated animals from both worlds, and surveying equipment were busily scurrying around the ground as far as he could see. Scooters hovered in mid air, ferrying people among locations both on the surface as well as along the walls.

“Alright children, it is time to move to your new lodging area.” Teacher, a mild, human female named Minna, motioned for them to proceed toward a squat group of buildings hunkered against the dome wall like a bizarre, misshapen clump of toy blocks. They settled in to their new surroundings, which were comfortable but very unfamiliar.

Paintings with wild colors and no apparent objects adorned the walls. The floors were carpeted in luxurious fabrics, sharply contrasting the cold polymer floors of the Quarters. The light was different — warm, cheerful, and ripe with promise.

Later that day, after their evening meal, Minna herded the boys back into the dome’s commons. The sun had set and the interior was glimmering. Translucent light was shining down from the vegetation above. “It’s time for you boys to expand your education. Up to now, we’ve studied the politics and history of both of your worlds. You know more about the naurons than they know of themselves.” She smiled and paused. “You’ve learned much about math and science. I am so very proud of you. But the galaxy that you’ll enter not so long from now will have other challenges — physical ones. Both worlds are relying on you to protect yourselves and defend our interests. Today, we’re going to start your physical training.” She grinned. “You boys already excel in beating the tar out of each other, particularly the Mop. I mean Mup. It’s time for some focus.”

She led them to a circular building with a platform in its center. Minna jumped onto the stage and picked up a large pole with a blade on the end. Somehow, the quiet teacher seemed larger, more formidable. She hopped down and handed the stick-knife to Mup. All the coal-black eyes in the room widened. “Today, you’ll begin a new set of lessons. This is a lancet. It is not a toy but a lethal weapon for defense. It is the first of many weapons that you’ll learn to master and wield in honor of both your species.” She waved her hand across the base of the weapon. The tip of the lancet began to glow lightly and emit an ominous hum. Mup smiled, straightening his back. He seemed larger too.

That was nearly 140 years ago. Minna was nothing but bones and dust now. Fromer’s friends — his family — were scattered across the galaxy or dead. When Fromer turned 20, he was escorted onto a transport vessel, assigned to his first outpost assignment, and seldom saw his friends, especially Mup, again. In the years to follow, he could only nod at his childhood companions across a conference facility or through a pane of glass while transferring between transport vessels in a shuttle node. Not a single photo or scrap of paper linked him to that other life.

Fromer was now sipping another small helping of vodka with a generous splash of tonic water in a place that could be a light year or the entire length of the galaxy away from his childhood home. He only harbored memories of that warm time. And exceptional training in combat and detente.

Home. He really had no place of origin. Once he did not exist and then he did. A miracle of biological engineering, merging the best physical and intellectual characteristics of two species with absolutely no evolutionary history. They called him a hybrid but he really was a chimera, a thing. Nothing more than a machine made of flesh, bones, gristle, and fluids.

The buzzer at his door pulled him out of the dark hole in which his mind was flipping and flopping in a haze of bubbling alcohol.

“Hey, Fromer, you in there?” Melat tapped on the threshold with the back of her data pad. “Open up. I need to talk to you.”

When Fromer slid open his door, Melat rushed past him into his cabin. “Drinking again? This isn’t becoming a habit is it? That insect in you can’t handle it.”

“Oh Mel. I should not be left to my thoughts. I need things to occupy my time. Even dull discourse among governors’ aides is better than this forsaken assignment. After so many years, they ship me out here to hold watch over a big bakery? I do not know what I did to deserve this.” He took another sip from his cup. “Just a year ago I was tracking down pirates stealing mineral shipments to zenat. The next thing I know, I receive a transmission from the Collective telling me to report to the Platform to babysit a bunch of glorified greenhouses. What a waste of my potential.”

“Well, the level of self-pity seems to have reached an all time high.” Melat jumped on his soft bed. “Sit down. I have some news for you.” She gave his cabin a look. Plants were everywhere. Most were species she did not recognize; many were glowing lightly, similar to the luminescence of his sleek, exquisitely smooth, flawless skin. He chose black for his wall panels — no personal belongings were visible. On the bed was a single thin sheet with no pillow. The whole room was glowing with biological light. The most amazing thing was the smell — a strange mixture of citrus and pine that she found irrestible.

“If it is about the activity on Nine, I already know about it. Grey contacted me and asked for a security sweep of the quadrant. I did not find anything out of the ordinary. If you ask me, it is likely pockets of swamp gas igniting on the surface.”

Melat took the cup from Fromer’s hand and peeked inside. She grimaced and set it down. “That’s old news. The activity has started up again. This time it’s near the north magnetic pole. I think we’re going to investigate. Sober up and come visit me when you get the chance. You’ll know where to find me.”

Chapter 17 – Illumination

Earlier that day — the Platform’s light cycle was maintained on a standard earth day — Grey was jogging with Melat around the perimeter of section 17, the primary recreation and housing deck. It was a beautiful place to exercise. The track extended out into space, built with a translucent material that made it seem as if they were jogging while suspended in the vacuum. Sparse stars pierced the velvet beneath their track shoes.

Melat’s shoulder-length red hair was bobbing back and forth. She wasn’t breaking a sweat. “Is it my imagination or do things seem tense around here?”

Grey chuckled, without smiling.

How was that possible? Melat thought.

Grey huffed as if in response to her mental query. “Everyone needs a break. Verat is being more of an ass than usual. Gorian is wound up and spends all hours communing with the computers. Iggy spends most of his time soaking in his brine. We all need to escape for a while. And now…” He stopped himself.

They ran a few minutes in silence. Grey waited for the question. “Now what, Grey?”

“Nine is acting weird. Lots of lights are appearing on the surface. It stopped for a while. Earlier today it started up again. We’ve never seen anything like it. The probes are streaming incredible amounts of data. We can’t keep track of it all.”

“What do you mean lights? Like the planet has been invaded by glow bugs?” She imagined giant fireflies buzzing through the mist.

“Something like that. The closest I can guess is that we have ghosts on the planet. Not real spooks of course. But mysterious lights that generate no heat. The imagery from orbit shows that the lights are flickering, gathering at some places, and then disappearing as quickly as they appear. The weirdest thing is that the lights are discrete…almost like they’re sentients or animals. When we zoom in on the imagery, I swear I occasionally see figures. I thought I saw a face looking up once. Black, open holes for the eyes and mouth.” He stopped for a moment and then started running again. “I’m losing it. The rest of the observatory crew is freaking out as well. We have no idea what to tell the Collective.” He was really starting to moisten now.

“You bunch of science nerds are spending way too much time in the remote observatory. What kind of tea has Verat been brewing up there? Or are you all smoking it? I’m sure you’re getting interference from sensors or the planet is picking up radio interference. I can’t believe that I’m the one trying to be objective here.”

The light on the deck was dimming — artificial dusk was falling on the Platform. Grey grabbed a towel from a dispenser and stretched his calves. “Come on Mel. We like surprises. But this was completely unexpected. None of the simulations remotely predict that the life down there’s able to capture, much less, transmit images. And even if it could, who would be sending them? I feel like we’re viewing old time movie projections in the fog. Have you been practicing your piloting procedures lately? Especially, drops?”

“You can’t practice something like that. It’s a gift. All the girls want it but can’t get it. You either do it or you don’t.”

Melat was a pilot. Pilots were very rare, only about one tenth of half a percent of the human population in the galaxy had the cognitive ability to be one. Piloting was not about steering columns, brakes, and accelerators. It was about the ability to gaze into the subatomic realm, shape quantum foam, drop from one reality to the next.

No supercomputer designed yet had the capacity to manipulate energy and matter to link one section of space-time with another in the universe. Actually, it was not a single drop. Rather, to travel across the unimaginable emptiness, it required nearly an infinite number of transitions through the roiling particles and waves welling up through existence. The physicists affectionately called it a drop because it appeared as if space itself opened a hole beneath the traveling object — usually a transport vessel — and proceeded to swallow it up.

Grey sopped his forehead. “What does it feel like for you pilots when you make a drop?”

For travelers, a drop seemed to be instantaneous, although in real time, trips across the galaxy could take as long as several hours. But for pilots the passage of time, the experience, had to be different.

“Everyone asks me that. I’m not tired about answering it though. Better than any drug ever grown, brewed, or concocted. Believe me, I’ve tried. Of course you have all the preparation. Calculations. Meditation. You also have to slowly raise your metabolism with some pretty hardcore medication. But then when you step into that chamber and link to the interface it is completely worth it. I’m surprised you’ve never asked me before.”

“Don’t like to pry. However.” He paused. “Given that I just spilled top secret information, I thought I’d reciprocate. Really, though, can you describe what’s going on? I mean, inside the ship?”

“Well, first there’s the typical interface menu. Very much like a visual holograph — you can see it without your eyes, you know? Just projected on your optic lobes. Then you begin to scroll through all the diagnostic tests, pretty standard stuff. When you’re ready, you flip the switch.”

“The switch?”

“It can be anything really. Pushing a button, turning a door handle, flipping a mouse trap. For me, I see a dandelion and blow on the seeds. Just something that you use to activate the program and initiate the drop. Blow. Seeds start to scatter in the wind. Then you see it. Well see’s only a weak approximation. It’s as if you are hovering in a vast three dimensional canvas with stars, dandelion seeds, whatever, around you, inside you. You feel the space as well as see, hear, even taste it. You imagine a pattern of particles coming together, then you imagine another pattern, and then another. That’s where all the prep is involved — memorizing the patterns. Before long it’s like being in a warm cocoon, sleeping, dreaming. The computer is interpreting those patterns as ways to adjust gravity and merge the right sections of space-time until you get to the coordinates you’re targeting. When I wake up, the drop is done and we’re somewhere else. I feel like I had the best nap ever. I absolutely crave it.”

Grey whistled. “Seriously heavy. I’d heard rumors. But you pilots don’t talk much about what you do. ”

“I was pretty little when they identified me as a candidate. I came from a normal family. My dad was a teacher. My brothers never showed any qualities of piloting. I apparently was doing some pretty wild things at school, interfacing with the computers in strange ways, making electronics do things that even engineers couldn’t unravel. That’s when some representatives from the Collective took me to the Institute on mars for training. I did my first drop when I was fifteen. Haven’t seen my family in ten years, I’d guess. Time starts to lose its relevance when you can bend it.”

Melat considered her position. Piloting had its dangers, of course. Every once in while, a pilot would lose her way in the drop sequence. The most optimistic outcome would be a stranded vessel in space. More likely and more ominous would be disintegration. Particles, occasionally chunks, of the vessel and its cargo, or passengers, would be scattered across space and possibly time. Still, the other option, spending centuries trying to ferry between systems was not a viable alternative. But when traveling within small systems, most people chose to take the slower ion propulsion transports than put their fate into a glorified space magician to save a few day’s travel time.

Grey turned towards the door to head for the mess hall. “Want to join me for dinner Mel? I’m so hungry.”

“Nope. I’m going to get a shower and then check on Fromer. He has been particularly mopey lately.”

“Fromer. Now there’s one I have not been able to figure out.”

“How would you expect to understand a hybrid that is nearly six times your age? I mean he has seen so many things. Knows so much. And that body. Its like he is built for combat. That skin is so — so incredibly thick and tough. I could throw a blade at him and it would just bounce off. They sent him here for something. Just what that is, well, that’s just as mysterious as your spooky planet. Boo, Grey.”

“Are you kidding me? That glow bug must have pissed someone off in the hierarchy and they’re punishing him. Pretty obvious that this is a dead end for him.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Grey turned toward Melat and cocked his head. “What do you know?”

“Nothing. Just a hunch about him.”

“While we’re exchanging notes, maybe you can tell me what you are doing here on station. Piloting is a lucrative gig. And you are here cooling your jets while other pilots are dropping transports almost weekly for lots of pay. You haven’t piloted in over a month. I can’t imagine that the Families is paying you all that much.”

“That, Grey my boy, is none of your business. But let’s just say I will soon have my pick of assignments. Right now, I get to enjoy the company of all you talented people.”

Grey shrugged and walked toward a warm meal. “HM. Please notify the kitchen to prepare menu 5 for me. I am in the mood for red meat.”

“Very well, Dr. Commons. Enjoy your dinner.”

Melat turned and stared through one of the deck’s translucent wall panels into the big empty vat of space before her. She was thinking about home.

Chapter 18 – Vacuum

From the personal journal of Grey Commons:

Today’s my birthday. My mother and Uncle Fen sent me a transmission and some really good scotch from New Europa. I found myself missing dad today. When I was a kid, we’d spend each birthday camping in the mountains. He said they were similar to the Alps on old earth except without snow. I spent a lot of my childhood looking at maps of Europe on earth. I always imagined what it would be like to be able to ski down a slope there. In his honor, I spent most of the day in the deck with a habitat similar to that of home — lots of simulated rocks, cool air, and evergreens. It just made me feel sad. I drank quite a bit of that scotch.

No one else on station knows that this is the anniversary of my birth. That’s fine with me. I did have dinner with Gorian. It was tough to tear her away from Ig, but I managed it. She’s intriguing to me. Quiet, studious, but very nice. She is one of the few on Platform who does not grate on my nerves. And I have some strange obsession with her ears. They are so tiny and well formed. But I digress. We all need a break.

I received another transmission today — from the Institute. The board has reviewed our preliminary results and seems intrigued. Verat and I are going to video conference with them tomorrow via infraspace connection. We only sent them the raw preliminary results. We didn’t give them the high quality images where we all swear we’re seeing ghosts. We have to maintain some shred of dignity here, right? Of course, Verat’s not particularly intrigued by this. Or at least he is acting that way. I want to kick him out an airlock some days. I love him dearly and appreciate that he joined me out here. I’m the closest thing he has to real, caring family. However, his attempts to push me away are exhausting.

The most popular hypothesis around here about Nine was posited by Melat, of all people. We think that the vegetation on the planet has somehow evolved to use the planet’s geothermal energy to become a giant radio collector. If this is true, Nine must be in the direct path of the radio transmissions from some technologically developed planet. The signals could be thousands of years old for all we know. A wild thought. But the only way to really understand this is to visit Nine. Direct contact between terraformers and cooking planets is highly forbidden, except under very special circumstances. You don’t want to mess up the broth. In the 300 planets that are currently under some development for eventual colonization, not one has ever done anything remotely like this though. So this may be our opportunity to convince the council board that we need to make a visit.

The most ironic thing is that this is one of the planets my dad started. It is his project, his legacy to me and the galaxy. He worked on it with Uncle Fen over forty years ago when they had just left the Institute. Dad was considered one of the most brilliant terraformers of our time. They said he was the next Pinchot Ferris. When I was a child, I had no idea. He, mom, my uncle, and aunts all seemed normal. When my father was away, I assumed he was doing the same things other fathers were doing — attending boring meetings. I was very wrong.

I’ve spent most of my adulthood looking over dad’s schematics for the planet’s successional developmental stages. Just yesterday, I scrolled through them again. It’s nothing spectacular now. But in his and Fen’s time, this stuff was revolutionary. It was clear he had an intuitive feel for the basic steps needed to get cloud planets cooking. I also still am trying to decipher some of his notes. They were written in a cipher unfamiliar to me or anyone I have contacted. The coded notes are particularly prevalent in the sections on microbiological technology. There also are a couple of pages on the geology of Nine that are encrypted. Could it be possible that he anticipated these events? I wonder if the answer lies in decoding his messages.

Chapter 19 – Childhood

Gorian was in mess eating breakfast — just a bowl of fruit and some milk. Both the berries and milk came in with the latest transport from New Earth and were very fresh. Verat shuffled in. “Morning Gorian. See any ghosts last night?”

“Funny you should say that. I thought I saw a ghost but it was just your nasty face during the evening shift.”

Verat smiled, shook his head, and poured a cup of coffee into a mug. “What I need is a long trip away from this place.” He coughed and rubbed his nose.

“Why Verat? We have everything we need here. If we can get away, there are dozens of simulated worlds beneath our feet. As long as we make sure to follow protocol, we can visit them as often as we want.”

“For God’s sake, are you kidding me? Don’t you miss fresh air, real sunshine, a beach or a forest? What about other people? How about the excitement of meeting someone new? Nothing’s better than the anticipation of finding someone new, if you know what I mean.” He grinned and slurped at his cup.

“I happen to enjoy the company I have here.”

“Do you mean the frog or Commons? I keep mixing the two of them up. Such similar personalities have they. Oh, and then you have your friends, the computers. I’m sure you find lots of love in binary code. The digital conversations you have must be captivating.”

She threw a strawberry at him leaving a red stain on his cheek. “Verat, why are you such a complete buffoon? It’s hard enough living here in confinement. And then you slump around getting on everyone’s nerves. If it wasn’t for your pedigree, you would be scraping debris off of shuttles for a living.”

“I agree that I’m abrasive, honey child. But get your facts straight. You can check my records. I graduated second in my class, only behind Commons. Also, I want you to know that Commons requested me for this assignment. I’m not here because it is my first choice. It is as a favor to the closest thing I have to a brother. We’ve known each other all our lives. If both of us were so wound tight, the galaxy would collapse into a big black hole. Oh, and Iggy happens to look like a frog to me. Those eyes—”

Gorian inhaled deeply and resumed eating her delicious breakfast. The smell of the coffee was wonderful, although she hated the taste of it. She grew up on a planet where coffee was rare. The local hot drink was ground from an endemic root and steeped in hot milk from one of the local animals, genetically similar to goats from old earth. Her mind wandered to her meal last night with Grey.

“I know I’ll regret asking this. But what was Grey like as a child?”

Verat was giddy. “Do you have a bit of a crush on my dear boy?”

Gorian blushed and was angry at herself for it. “Forget it.”

“Seriously now. Grey’s a wonderful guy. I’m happy for you. Genuinely. As a kid, Grey was shy, quiet, and studious. No surprise there. What you don’t know is that he did, and does, have a dark sense of things. This is probably why we get along so well. Has he told you about the cave?”

“No. What happened?”

“Our home planet’s riddled with subterranean tunnels. Geologically, they’re magma tubes from ancient volcanic activity. Of course, the adults were terrified that children would wander in and get lost. So most of the entrances were blocked — physical barriers and force fields. But not all. Grey found an opening in a small meadow. It was well hidden under the roots of a large tree — kind of like an oak from old earth. Well, Grey decided that he’d start exploring it. He was already an insufferable geek at that point. He set up a whole network of directional beacons and had the whole tunnel system mapped out. I guess it was smart. If you got lost, that would be game over. You’d be nothing but a rotting carcass before they found you down there.

Now, there’s evidence that our planet was colonized by a small band of shipwrecked sentients thousands of years ago. They died off and their origin is unknown. But they left a lot of artifacts. A whole industry has been built around archeological exploration for trinkets — these people were great artisans and made these really funky statuettes. Worth some money, they are. I’ve pawned a few in my time. One day, Grey came to school and announced that he’d found a whole cache of these things plus bones underground. The kids could’ve cared less about the artifacts. But the old bones. That was pretty intriguing.

So, for some money, Grey would take you underground to see the bodies. He’d blindfold the kids before they got to the meadow so they wouldn’t know where they were. They would crawl into the hole, he’d take off the blindfold, and lead them to the pile. Before long, kids from the whole community — not just our school — were paying him to go underground. Funny thing is that the ancient sentients did not have bones. Rarely, a mummified carcass has been found in some grave, but these people rotted rapidly and left hardly a trace of their bodies — ideal composters. No way that there could be bones. But the kids — even the smart ones — didn’t know or didn’t seem to care. It was Grey Commons after all. His dad was already a legend. We all assumed the same of him.”

Gorian smiled. “So Grey was conning all of them?”

“I learned from the best.”

“What were the bones?”

“Some sort of resin he cooked up I suppose. Probably found the recipe in one of those technical science groups he always was joining. The whole thing was fabricated. Best part’s that I was the only one he told the truth to. I, of course, told him that I’d tell everyone if I didn’t get a cut of the action.”

“You extorted your own friend?”

“Sure did. We both bought a lot of candy that year.”

“And I suppose then that you’re planning to black-mail me about asking about Grey?”

“Sure am.”

“Go ahead and tell him. We’re not twelve anymore.”

“Speak for yourself.” With that, Verat turned and headed for the observatory. He was only ten minutes late for his shift.

Gorian went back to sipping her milk. Her stomach turned and her hunger waned.

Chapter 20 – Uncles

Verat and Grey communed with the Institute leadership and were granted permission to visit Nine. However, the Institute Council insisted on sending a senior envoy to accompany them on the trip. They were standing in the cargo hold waiting for the Institute vessel to decompress and decontaminate. Grey looked trim in his Institute uniform. Verat was draped in a checkered robe with slippers peeking out. With a hiss, the door slid opened; with bushy, ashen eybrows, a stooped posture, and a springy step, Fen Commons appeared in the entryway.

“Uncle Fen?” Grey was both amazed and relieved. Fen would know what to do.

“Grey and Verat, my dear, dear boys. Like old times. I still expect to see you fighting over a toy, wrestling on the floor.” He chuckled. “I’m famished, let’s get a bite to eat.”

Over some fresh vegetables that Fen brought in from mars, Fen explained his involvement. “This planet, Nine, was your dad’s baby, Grey. He’d babble on for hours about how this one would be different from the rest. The Platform was so much smaller back in my day. I’m astonished how much it has changed since then.” He raised his hands in wonder.

“Different in what way?” Grey put down his cup of Verat’s strong tea and stirred in some sugar. He swore the spoon would corrode.

“Your father was cryptic about Nine. Something about it changing the way we interact with life in the galaxy. He was spending tremendous time on the Institute terminal sifting through dusty, musty archives in the history units. The man never slept more than a few hours at a time. He was particularly obsessed with the writings of Pinchot Ferris.”

Grey smirked. “Ferris? She went crazy didn’t she? Runs in the family, doesn’t it Verat?”

Verat crunched his spear of splendid asparagus while staring vacantly at the wall, thinking vaguely about his distant relative.

Fen continued. “We came out here and dropped the bacterial precursors on C9. It was one of the first cloud planets to be terraformed. High humidity makes it a bit of a challenge to monitor don’t you think? Now it seems that your dad may have left us a present on the surface.”

Fen wiped his mouth with a napkin, set it down on the table, and hopped up. “Take me on a tour nephew. Verat, care to join us?”

Verat set down his fork. “The last thing I want to do is see more of this place.” He stretched out and ordered a slice of cake. HM obliged. Verat promptly complained that the slice was too small.

Fen’s evening was spent surveying the great Platform, with his only nephew. Fen marveled at the great power plant, miles of bio-fusion engines generating the energy of a star. Translucent cylinders glowed azure with microbes converting the waste of hundreds of biological decks into gases to be compressed in the fusion generators. If they could see within the magnetic fields, they would be blinded instantly by artificial sunshine.

The microbiology labs were pristine. Thousands of incubators lined the vast space. Within each steely column, new strains of life were giving birth, living their tiny lives, and occasionally dying, each holding promise for a new world. A few technicians shuffled from panel to panel, tapping away and swiping at their data tablets. All of this information was funneling into a vast network. At the center of this web, attempting to make sense if it all, was a huge quantum computer, technically HM’s mother. She was a sensational machine. But still limited in her ability to think creatively compared to the intellect of most sentients.

The final stop was Grey’s favorite environmental deck. This one had been baking for about five years. Growth of the vegetation within the deck was accelerated and was there purely for Grey’s amusement. He took a pinch of old earth, a healthy helping of zenat, a dash of nauron, and a mixture of a dozen other worlds. He called this his rainbow garbage deck. Every color possible grabbed the eyes and sent them spiraling into wonder. Feathery purple ferns shaded orange moss. Emerald tufts of grass were surrounded by soil of the deepest blue.

“Cobalt in the soil? Genius. Do you remember that ancient movie about a place called Oz? This spot reminds of the place where the munchkins lived.” Fen stepped off the walkway to pick one of the reddest old earth apples he had ever seen. He threw it over to Grey and then plucked one for himself.

“This place makes me happy. I come here when I think about you all. It doesn’t cure the homesickness. But it does push it back a bit. Who says scientists can’t be creative?”

“Grey, I’m an old man. I will be stepping down from the council soon. I’ll recommend you to take my place. No guarantees. But I have a few favors to cash in.”

Grey sat on a large plant that resembled a pink tree stump with yellow tendrils. “I’d have loved for dad to see this.”

“He would approve.” Fen threw the apple core into the grass. Perhaps a new sapling would be peeking out in the coming weeks. “Did I ever tell you about the time your father and I stole the cart from the old lady that lived in our neighborhood?”

“Yes, Uncle Fen.” Grey sighed. “It’s time to call it a day. I’m sure you’re exhausted. We’ll get a fresh start in the morning. Follow me over to the exit over here.” Grey stood up and smoothed his pants.

The voice of HM seemed to respond. “Defabrication cycle intitiated Dr. Commons.”

Grey’s face contorted in confusion. “HM, what do you mean? I’ve authorized nothing. Cease the sequence immediately.”

HM was uncharacteristically silent. “HM. Respond. Now.”

“Five minutes until initiation sequence completed. Charging capacitors. Currently at 10 percent capacity.”

Fen turned toward Grey. “I presume we’re in trouble at 100 percent?”

“Holy shit. Defabrication is the automated reset for an environmental deck. A charge of plasma blows through the entire deck. Eveything’s burned to its component materials and flushed into the generators for reconstitution. This can only be initiated by a few of us. And the failsafes prevent HM from going foward with one of us on deck. This has got to be a malfunction.”

They ran to the entryway. It was locked. HM calmly noted that the capacitors were at 50 percent.

Fen looked at Grey with a strange mixture of panic and amusement. “Is this a malfunction where the interface thinks we are about to be immolated? Or is it like we’re really about to be ashed?”

Grey looked at the panel by the door. The yellow flashing light was telling. His guts lurched. “It’s the latter. Follow me quickly. We might make it.”

Fen followed Grey to a small hatch in the floor. He pried it open with a stick. “Here, jump in.” He hopped in, falling next to Fen with a crunch. Something in his knee gave way and stars were everywhere. Through the pain he gasped, “Daddy reach up and grab the door.” Then all went silent.

Above their heads, a technological version of hell was unleashed. The bejeweled menagerie of life was instantaneously wiped clean in a fury of brilliant, clean, white fire. Cavernous vents in the walls opened simultaneously, gulping the flames and sending them to the Platforms’s enormous belly. The heat in the storage container was unbearable. Grey only vaguely sensed it. Fen writhed on the floor, trying desperately to inhale the superheated air.

“Sequence 1 complete. Cycling down.” HM’s voice was everywhere, nowhere. The temperature in the hold dropped mercifully. Fen tried to breathe but his lungs felt twice their size and full of cotton. His exposed skin was taut and blistered. “For God’s sake, someone help us,” Fen croaked.

HM responded in its loud monotone. “Emergency noted. Help is on the way. Stay calm.”

Fen rode the pain for centuries in his mind. Bright light. Voices. A human with glowing skin and black, vacant eyes was hovering. Was he seeing a ghost?

Fromer ordered his team to put Fen and Grey into stasis capsules. These gadgets bathed victims in a cocoon of medicinal juices and dropped them into a deep sleep. He announced in his deep, wheezy voice, “The burns on their skin are not a concern. I am worried about the damage to their lungs. Place them on ventilators immediately. Make sure that they mend Grey’s fractures. The longer we wait, the more likely the complications will be severe.”

As the capsules were shuttled away to the medical deck, Fromer surveyed the environmental lab. The air was extremely hot but tolerable. His spiracles could handle the unpleasant sensation. The walls and floor were barren and brilliantly white — no evidence of the kaleidoscope of life remained. The ceiling 100 feet above was barely visible, emanating a grey sheen. An overcast sky after the storm. What on mars happened here, he thought to himself. This is impossible.

An hour later, Fromer sat at his console attempting to reconstruct the accident.

“HM. Who authorized the defabrication?”

“Dr. Commons.”

“I doubt that. He and his uncle were in the lab when you tried to cremate them. Why did you initiate the sequence when sentients were on deck?”

“No sentients were present. Failsafes were working properly.”

“I did not ask you about the status of the failsafe. If you were not a machine, I would think that you are trying to cover your posterior of its silicon and plastic. Provide all personnel location logs for the past day. Use a typical spatial analysis to let me know when any of them would have come near your central terminal. Also, provide me with your most recent backup file. Compare the two and report any mismatches.” If anyone had sabotaged HM, Fromer hoped they weren’t intelligent enough to alter the archives and cover their tracks.

“No one accessed my terminal in the past day. Both current files and backups confirm.”

“At what terminal did Commons authorize the defabrication cycle?”

“Terminal 34.”

“Does his personal location match the location of Terminal 34 when the authorization occurred?”

“No.”

“Then who was there?”

“No one.”

It seemed a ghost had tried to kill Grey and Fen. “HM, I think it is time for you to take a nap. I worry that you are malfunctioning.”

“Very well Mr. Fromer.”

The light on the console went dim. Fromer began running a series of diagnostic programs to search for a glitch in HM’s considerable programming.

Fromer walked into medical. Verat, Gorian, and Iggy were sitting next to the capsules in which Fen and Grey were convalescing. Verat looked genuinely concern. Gorian was chewing her fingernails, Iggy’s webbed hand was on her shoulder.

Iggy turned to Fromer. The tinny voice from his speaker asked, “What have you found Mr. Fromer?”

“The best answer I have is unsatisfying I am afraid. HM activated the sequence on its own. I have deactivated it until we sort it out. If true, then HM could easily serve you eggs instead of noodles or blow you out an airlock into space. This means we will have to do eveything manually for a while. How are the patients?”

Iggy responded. “They will make it, although there was significant damage to their respiratory tissue. To avoid scarring, the doctor is regenerating their cells. It will take a few days.”

Verat wiped his nose and threw a wad of toilet paper into the refuse receptical. He was sniffling, accosted by the first stages of a common cold. All that technology at their disposal and they still could not overcome the mutations of that annoying virus. And now the interface was going crazy. What next?

“Mr. Fromer?”

“Yes Ig?”

“What is the probability of HM malfunctioning?”

Gorian stood. “I can answer that. Virtually impossible. HM has so much redundant programming that a mistake of that magnitude isn’t going to happen. I’ve gone over every line of her code. And she has a lot of code.”

“If so, then it was sabotage. Who here is a killer?” Verat’s knuckles cracked with a pop, pop, pop. He sneezed and threw another tissue into the trash.

Chapter 21 – Dreams

Grey was breathless, suspended in a billowy haze. Was he dead?

“Son. Grey, my dearest little boy, wake up.”

“Dad?”

A laugh, then a strong slap on the back. “How are you Grey? You’ve grown to be one handsome man.”

“You’ve been dead for fifteen years.”

“Death’s too final a term. You live, you move on. Death is not an option.” He smiled, lifted his arms, and waved his hands. “Here I am.”

“Whadda you mean by that?” Grey had the curious sensation of tumbling out of control in a vacuum. It reminded him of a chaotic, untethered space walk — without the bulky suit and the panicked realization of possibly floating in space for eternity. Warmth massaged him. He thought, spoke, whatever: this must be the drugs they are giving me for the pain. I’m clearly in stasis. This feels really, really good.

His father answered. “Not drugs, Grey. You’re seeing past the fabric of what you consider reality. Welcome to the dream.”

“What happened to Uncle Fen? Is he — here with us?”

“Fen is fine. So are you. Your brain — the neurons, molecules, sparks — that lump of grey stuff isn’t recording this. When you return, all of this will be just a feeling. Your logical brain will reject it like an impulse. But your soul will remember. Like the feelings you got as a child, when you thought that something was lurking in the shadows. You used to drive me nuts, calling me into your room at all hours. Guess what? There really was something there in the dark. Still is. Always in the shadows, beyond your vision. Like the urge you have to jump across the table and kiss that lass, Gorian. Guess what? In another existence, you kissed her with all your might. Your adult brain refuses to accept that something exists where it shouldn’t be. It is a shame really. But it keeps us mortals tethered.”

“Not dead. Then where am I?”

A whisper answered. “I don’t know. But it is so very exciting, don’t you agree?”

Grey opened his eyes and felt his mass again. His arms and legs were leaden stumps. Chattering birds, genuine sunlight, and the smell of something like apple blossoms surrounded him. This was the chatter of a living world, not a deck on a spaceship. He was facing a hulking boulder; his legs and arms were bent uncomfortably underneath his torso. He groaned and sat upright. He had the distinct impression that he was not alone.

Voices and dust engulfed him and then there they were. Three humanoid figures with unbelievably long arms and legs were standing before him. The sounds they made were complex and complete gibberish. But somehow Grey understood them.

“Follow us,” the tallest, lankiest one beckoned.

“This is the most realistic and painful drug-induced dream of my life,” he muttered. Grey followed them down a well-worn path. If they understood him, they weren’t responding.

The path opened into a meadow. Warm wind tickled his face. Pungent wood smoke lingered in the boughs of trees — trees that were familiar to him. This was home. But quite different. It seemed younger, pristine, unchallenged. At the center of the meadow a chasm yawned. He recognized it as one of the millions of magma pipes that littered his childhood world — the ones he used to explore during his glorious boyhood. He expected Verat’s bleached hair to poke out, face smiling with that youthful mouth. He waited for young Verat to say one of those many outrageous things. Always laughing, no matter how horrible things were at home for the poor boy.

Long, spidery fingers grasped his shoulder. “Go in. You know where to go.”

He stood in the chamber waiting for his vision to adjust. Liquid dripped, echoing deeply into the veins of the planet. His surroundings resolved; he was standing in the very same antechamber that he’d decorated with fake bones and ceramic trinkets. The walls glowed with luminescent paint. Glyphs drawn in childish hand adorned the ceiling. Across the room was a small hole. He did not recall this diminutive passageway from his past.

Beyond the hole flickered a light, perhaps a candle. The same confounding alien language wafted out. He stooped and peeked. Before him was a voluminous cavern bathed in the warmth of thousands of green candles. The flames flickered, producing no smoke. A dozen of the humanoids were gathered around a glittering stone slab. On the rock was the supine, motionless figure of a small one, a child of their kind. This was a funerary scene, Grey realized. Strangely, the beings were laughing, celebrating. They grew quiet and one of figures adorned in a simple turquoise robe spoke. “Friends, the journey has begun. Let us praise the stars and the moon; the ground beneath us is prepared to receive this young one. She’s now with those departed we’ve loved and missed. Travel swiftly and safely little one.”

A voice behind Grey startled him. “So, what do you think? These people before you, as well as the humans, naurons, zenats, xyn, and dozens of other thinking species in the galaxy who you haven’t met, have a stunning commonality. Drink in the theatre, my son. It’s a drama occurring everywhere — every bit as profound as a birth. We see it in our dreams and dismiss it outright.”

Grey turned to see his father — not as he was when he died but as a young boy, the same age Grey and Verat were when Grey discovered this underground space. He continued. “Have you wondered why the vast majority of intelligent beings believe in an afterlife? Why do so many of us embrace a religion, searching for answers beyond our intellect? Is it a delusion, seeking solace about an inevitable end? No. It’s because we can all feel it. Deep within us. Our very living tissue is an affront to the laws of the universe. Life flies in the face of decay — against entropy as the physicists call it. Life’s existence pierces a tiny hole in the tapestry of space-time and opens a door to—” He stopped.

“Where dad?” Grey was woozy.

“Where indeed?” And his father vanished.

The cave melted and Grey tumbled again, weightless in a timeless sea of color. The scent of Verat’s infernal tea permeated his universe, as if it was the only smell that ever graced existence. Grey approached a shiny, aquamarine globe, growing larger, engulfing him. Old earth, the forbidden fruit of humanity, loomed large. Gravity tugged again, but this time he floated above a wooden structure. A strange symbol was painted on the side. Horses snorted nearby and a tendril of wood smoke twirled around him. Dogs barked in the distance. This time the voices were familiar — humans, singing. He knew that he was in his time now and ghosts were everywhere, living, rejoicing, celebrating life.

“Grey, wake the hell up.” Verat was holding a steaming cup of tea and blowing the vapor into Grey’s slackened face. Grey’s face contorted and brought forth a staccato of gasping coughs. Pain was pulsing in his chest.

Grey mustered all his strength. “Verat, I don’t know what’s worse, the smell of that tea or your breath. How long have I been out?”

“About a week. Glad to see you too.”

“Fen?”

“Fine.”

“Nine?”

“Still glowing.”

“I feel like crap. It would’ve been nice at the very least to have a dream while I was unconcious.”

“Just be happy you’re alive. Somebody tried to kill you and Fen.”

Chapter 22 – Investigation

Fromer questioned everyone on the Platform during the week that Fen and Grey were bobbing in and out of semi-consciousness. Of all the investigations he undertook in his many years, motives were always clear. Here, he could find no one on the Platform that had a reason to kill Fen or Grey. He suspected that the attempt was linked to Fen’s arrival and the planned trip to Nine. But most of the technical staff held a vague notion of these events. Those who did know the full details were eager to learn more about Nine and had no reason to hamper the planned expedition.

Not long after the burn on the deck occurred and Fen and Grey were dragged out — miraculously alive — Gorian found a chunk of foreign code in HM’s security register. It was encoded to set off a defabrication cycle when Grey’s communication badge entered any of the environmental chambers. The code was unsophisticated and easy to detect. The real trick was for someone to get past the layers of security to alter HM’s programming. Fromer did not tell Gorian, but he suspected that this was initiated by actions high in the Institute hierarchy. Someone powerful did not want the Fuersts to reach the planet — to see the place that their beloved father and brother had adopted and perhaps loved.

To ensure that the HM interface would not hiccup again and in the process kill Grey, Fen, or one of the Platform’s staff, Fromer enlisted Gorian to watch HM’s status continually and swore her to secrecy. Gorian was more than eager to assist and remained silent. Within a few hours she generated a set of clandestine algorithms in HM’s data ports that alerted her to any suspicious behavior. Fromer watched Gorian work with amazement. She both worried and amused him. She was tightly wound, but so very happy about it.

Fromer struggled with his next steps. How should he report this back to the Council? He and his hybrid kind held a unique place in the galaxy. They were agents of the Institute — however, their dual allegiance to humans and zenats gave them a freedom to act more autonomously than many of their peers.

His assignments were typically given by decree of the Institute security council, with a specific goal: Stop the bad guys. Keep these two colonies from destroying each other. Babysit a bakery. How he met these goals were left to his wisened devices. Resources were never limited. The Institute provided all the funds, travel, and weapons needed. Here on the Platform, the game changed. His so-called superiors may have been responsible. If so, he must step lightly, lest he find himself being crisped in an ecology deck or blown out into open space. In some ways, the lack of control and uncertainty was compelling. Life may actually end for him.

Dying was a novelty to Fromer. He had no familial bonds and avoided attachment. Thus, he never confronted death in a closely personal way. Hybrids were genetically predisposed for longevity — he had no expiration date. During the occasional coup or feud, he found himself in combat, which theoretically threatened an end to his existence. But he disposed of challengers handily. He recalled fighting Mup — practicing — in the domed arena during his boyhood. Mup was more cunning but Fromer was quicker. As Mup raised his lancet to strike, Fromer flipped backwards while simultaneously whipping his pole under Mup’s legs. Time after time Mup tried to counter this move. But he could never step back quick enough to avoid Fromer’s attack. Fromer eventually agreed to abandon the move so that Mup would keep sparring with him. Fromer smiled slyly at the memory.

He always kept that move in reserve — just in case. He would do the same with the knowledge that someone hacked into the HM interface. The Institute and the Platform staff would learn of an unfortunate experimental accident with no mortalities, nothing more. In the meantime, he hoped that the trap Gorian set would capture its prey.

Chapter 23 – Departure

With Grey and Fen mending, the date for the expedition was set — departure in 48 hours. Melat had much to do to prepare. The intergalactic vessel needed to be prepped. The Raven was a glorious machine — coal black, shimmering in the starlight. Its cargo bay held a small shuttle that was used to travel from orbit to the planet. The bottom of the Raven was lined with small alloy plugs used to generate a quantum field that made space-time fizz like Fromer’s tonic water. Aft, the vessel held the most modern ion thrusters available. Melat suited up and checked every inch of the hull from space. Not a hint of scarring or pitting was visible. Perfect, like Fromer’s engineered skin.

After Melat had locked back in and stripped off her suit, she surveyed the pilot station. In front of the chamber was a view screen that could be used to maneuver the ship manually. A seat sat in the center of the room with pedals and a steering column. Here the resemblance to a shuttle cockpit sharply diverged. The remainder of the room was empty. No buttons, levers, keyboards, screens, or seats were visible. She sat in the command chair and the room darkened. A net of green light engulfed her head and spine — each strand within the web was attached to a location on the walls, floor, and ceiling. Her eyes closed and she began traveling through each beam, thinking, feeling, even tasting the commands she was sending to the Raven’s interface. Where she ended and the Raven began was no longer clear. She thought, thrusters port, and the port thrusters gently fired. Check quantum pulse. Engage life support. For hours her mind drifted through the complex arteries of the ship. She drifted in serene contentment. At last, her journey ended. She reluctantly thought, end systems check. And life again weighed her down.

Melat’s next task was the least interesting yet most critical — navigation. She settled in her office and began tracing the route from the Platform to Nine. She had help. For hundreds of years, pilots littered space with buoys, similar to those used to navigate ships in waterways on old earth.

A buoy was impossible to explain in ordinary three-dimensional terms. The best explanation was that a length of cable was left on one side of a drop and then threaded along the path of the traveling vessel; the other end poked out at the destination. Although the cabling only extended several thousand kilometers in real space, it wound thousands of light years through infraspace — the ‘in between’ place that pilots navigated. This not only aided navigation but also allowed for messages traveling at the slow pace of light to tranverse the galaxy in moments along the cables. The job of a pilot was to follow these lines through infraspace if possible, or to chart new areas if necessary.

The navigation route to Nine was well established. However, this did not mean that the job was easy or without peril. Any change in space along the route like a supernova or a wandering comet may lead to a quick death or possibly a prolonged stranding. It was Melat’s responsibility to check the charts and the status of the buoys to ensure safe passage. She often imagined that she descended from the steamboat navigators of the 19th century Mississippi River on old earth. The river always changed with flood waters and droughts; it was an organic, living thing, requiring constant vigilance and commanding respect. Space-time was a similar beast and a considerable opponent. It also was a friend and companion that bred fondness and familiarity.

A raspy voice startled her. “Mel, how are you progressing?” She knew it was Fromer before he spoke — the glow in the room always betrayed his presence.

“Peachy. The Raven’s looking good and the route’s hazard free. We can begin loading cargo soon. Who all is traveling to Nine with us?”

“Grey and his uncle, Verat, Iggy, four of my crew, Gorian, you, and me.”

“Why are we bringing security? I thought the only danger on the planet was a slip on a slimy rock? Or sweating to death?”

“Never hurts to be cautious.”

“As for cargo?”

“Gorian has designed several drones to release on the surface. They will fly the planet and upload data to the satellite network. Survival gear — in case we get stranded.”

“Are you questioning my piloting skills? My ship doesn’t lose its way,” Melat half joked.

“Standard procedure, Mel. Goodness, I never expected you to be touchy. We also will be bringing the standard survey gear, probably five crates. Finally, there will be another cargo container that only I can access. I would appreciate you not asking me about it.”

“What’s in it? It’s my ship Fromer. I need to know everything. Otherwise, we’re not going anywhere.”

“Thank you for not asking, Mel. I swear you to secrecy then. Weapons.”

Melat bristled. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Why on earth would you bring weapons? There’s no evidence of piracy out here. So, there’s no risk en route. What’s on that planet that requires guns and bombs?”

“I am more concerned about who might be on the ship. I have evidence that the defabrication on deck 34 was not accidental. Someone tampered with HM’s programming. I have said enough already.”

“You expect me to put us in space, shuttling from one dimension to another, with a potential killer on board? I thought you were intelligent and more importantly, wise. This blows that theory out the airlock.”

“My reasoning is sound, I promise. Nothing will happen to us. As long as I am the only one with access to the container all will be well. How long will the drop take?”

Melat engulfed Fromer in silence. She stared out her window into sparsely starred space. “Fromer, what do you want from all this?”

Fromer was puzzled. “This mission? I want the crew to be safe and gather all the necessary information to unravel the puzzle on Nine.”

“No, I mean your life here. Our life here.”

“Well, I do not want to be here, although recent events make my job more intriguing.”

“Beyond that, Fromer. You’ve spent your entire life doing the bidding of others. Have you ever considered yourself? You’re like a slave to the Institute. They made you and you follow their orders like a good soldier. You have such potential.” She paused, considering how to structure her next words. “I care about you Fromer. You and I are the same in so many ways. We have no history, no blood to tie us to the past.”

Fromer shrugged. “You are wrong Mel. You do have a family, ancestors, heritage. You have a choice whether to embrace or reject them. I have no one, no choice. I do not belong in any category — I am a piece of sophisticated machinery nothing else.”

Melat stepped behind him and wrapped her arms around him. He stiffened, unable to respond. The only physical contact he’d experienced was by holding Darce’s hand so many years ago and later when a fist or foot contacted him during combat — a rarity. Mel held on; Fromer’s muscles finally relaxed. For the first time in his life he sobbed — a single tear glowing green in the starlit room.

She whispered in his tiny ear, “No more worries. Neither of us has to follow orders again. We’ll take the ship tonight. Imagine us, alone, in the galaxy. We can travel anywhere and enjoy our lives together.”

He considered for an eternity. “No, we cannot.”

Chapter 24 – The Raven

The Raven was fully loaded. Ionized gas trickled from her thrusters. The quantum drive thrummed below the feet of the passengers. Melat sat in the green light of the command, a needle inserted in a vein on her hand, drugs coursing through her. In the mid compartment, Fromer, Grey and the remainder of the crew were seated — cramped but fairly comfortable. No one felt calm before a drop. The horror stories of chilling death were palpable and all too true.

But they took solace in Melat’s experience and confidence. They knew that her body was in the forward compartment under heavy sedation. However, they also understood that her mind was quite active, surrounding them in every technical system of the ship. The Raven was not entirely mechanical now; it had a biological presence, perhaps a soul.

A pleasant voice began counting down. “Three minutes before drop. Please be seated and remain calm. All systems nominal.” They knew that somewhere in all that circuitry it was Melat reassuring them. The quantum drive thudded loudly. Again, this was normal. As Melat reorganized space-time at the first buoy, it sounded as if the universe itself was protesting. “One minute until drop.” The cabin lights dimmed as most of the Raven’s power was diverted to the drives. The drop was beginning. At this juncture, there was no turning back. If the drives stopped, a portion of the ship would slide elsewhere, leaving twisted metal, cargo, guns, and bodies floating in space, split in half and light-years apart.

The drop executed. Dandelion seeds drifted lazily in the breeze.

The passengers felt the unsettling sensation in the dark cabin. Not the flop of the stomach one felt while suddenly dropping in a lift. Rather, their entire bodies were twisted — warm dough about to be placed in a hot oven. The feeling was normal — they all were seasoned travelers of course. As they adjusted to the stretching, a new, unusual feeling assualted them. First, it occurred to each of them that they had experienced this exact moment before — strong deja vu. Then their bodies stretched beyond what was physically possible. Dull pain emanated from the marrow of their bones and screamed at their brains to stop. A moment later, the drives stopped humming. The lights resumed. And the pain vanished.

“What happened to me? That was not normal. I feel like my spine was yanked out.” Verat fell out of his seat and splayed himself on the floor.

Fromer jumped up and ran to the command compartment.

“Fromer, you’re not supposed to enter until Melat gives the all clear,” Grey exclaimed.

“Mel has to be in distress. She needs help.” Fromer pulled open the door. Green light blinded him. Melat was on the floor curled in a ball, hands clenched, and gasping; the needle was pulled out of her hand. Blood soaked her blue cotton shirt and dripped in a puddle on the floor. Fromer looked at the forward view screen. A large gas giant planet loomed ahead, streaked in violet and yellow. Fromer glanced at the navigation screen and reviewed the log. When Melat lost control, the ship’s systems automatically located the planet and docked the vessel in a stable orbit around the giant.

Fromer ordered the Raven’s HM to shut down the quantum drives while he checked Melat’s heart. Her bleeding had stopped. She was alive but absent — not quite unconscious but certainly unaware. Something deep within her mind was still traveling in the ship. Until they could reconnect the ship with her central nervous system, they were going to be stranded in deep space.

Fromer stepped back into the passenger hold. “We have a problem.” He explained that he had stabilized Melat’s condition but that she was in two different places. “We have to figure out how to reconnect her.”

Grey coughed. Verat’s annoying virus had invaded his chest. “Do we have any idea where we are?”

Gorian was already on her tablet conversing with the Raven. “The ship says that we’re only about a thousand kilometers from the buoy network. This is charted space.” Relief flooded the compartment. “The bad news is that the Raven’s ion drives are disconnected from the command. Whatever part of Mel that’s still in the circuits appears to have shut them down. The ship and I are trying to route around her.”

“Why would Melat do that?” Fen asked.

Fromer responded. “The part of Mel that is still interfaced with the computer has no sense of self or purpose. She just happens to be floating aimlessly in those systems. She could have just as easily been in the plumbing circuits. Then we would not be able to flush the commode.”

Gorian turned to them. “There’s always a fix. We just need a little time.”

“Could we take the shuttle to the buoy?” Verat asked.

Gorian tugged on her locks. “We could. But the shuttle’s not equipped to communicate with the network. The only option would be to wait for a ship to drop through. That could be days or years depending on our location. Even if a ship appeared, the pilot or computer would have to notice us. If we get really desperate, we should use the shuttle. But not right now.”

Rhodes, one of the security detail groaned. He had a thick mustache, sunken eyes, and a thick build. He looked at Gorian quizzically. “Why aren’t we sitting by the buoy? Shouldn’t we be there if we were following it to Nine?”

“In quantam mechanics, a thousand kilometers is close enough.” She went back to tapping and swiping at her pad.

“If we have time, might as well enjoy ourselves.” Verat scratched his bum and walked into the cargo hold. The shuttle was clamped down, mountainous plastic containers hulked around it. “Whadda we have here?”

Fromer jumped. He assumed that Verat was questioning the unmarked container with rifles, ammo, and some grenades.

“This one is marked potables. Let’s have a look.” Verat pushed a button and the container opened.

Fromer relaxed. Had anyone noticed his reaction?

Verat pulled out a small box labeled chicken dinner. He pulled on a tab and dropped the lump on a plate. It slowly expanded to a sizable meal of a chicken slice, mashed potatoes, and some green stuff that looked nauron in origin. Steam began to rise from the meal. “I love compressed food.” Verat began eating. Soon the others were following suit. Iggy slurped greenish slime from a tube, Fromer munched on a zenat version of beef, and the others picked at various versions of pot roast with vegetables.

Chapter 25 – Biology Lesson

Excerpt from book entitled “A History of the Terra Institute”:

Although there are likely many undiscovered sentient species in the galaxy, only four are recognized by the Institute. There are morphological and physiological differences among the species, of course. But surprisingly many similarities in form and function exist. Marquads’ (link to: Marquad, Founding Family) Theorem states that sentient (self aware) beings must have a large central ganglion (link to: brain), opposable digits, upright posture, and forward-looking eyes. The ability to walk, manipulate the environment with hands, see with three dimensional vision, and to process all this information in a complex environment are the primary commonalities among the four species. Communication also is key, which can occur through sound (link to: humans, zenats), telepathy (link to: naurons) or physical gestures and coloration (link to: xyn). The Marquad Family was not denying that there are millions of intelligent species in the galaxy. But those emerging with the ability to ask “why”, become self aware, and seek out new opportunities with technology require these very specific biological traits.

Of course, culturally, the four known sentient species are very different. One of the most telling diffences is food preference. All sentients are omnivores, capable of eating varied diets of plant and animal matter. However, how food is perceived and valued is species specific. Humans have the most varied diets, typically preferring a mix of plant and animal matter in their meals. Obesity is common because food can be considered a psychological as well as physical source of nutrition. When naurons first came into contact with humans, food preference was a topic of much discussion. Narons, being semi-aquatic, prefer to consume marine food, largely of planktonic origin. Their meals are typically uniform. Lacking taste buds, they still puzzle over humanity’s need for varied meals. Naurons do have a heightened sensitivity to simple sugars and enjoy eating candy. Zenats are capable of digesting plant matter, but prefer animal tissue. Like humans, they have a well developed sense of taste and enjoy different preparations. Zenats and humans have exchanged food for centuries, leading to exciting new options in cuisinary development. The xyn rarely eat. They have developed a form of photosynthetic structures (link to: xenochloroplasts) in their skin and are capable of synthesizing complex sugars from sunlight. To travel beyond their home world, they don “sunlight suits” that produce light of the necessary wavelength to nourish them. When other elements are needed, the xyn will consume various dietary items indigenous to their homeworld — typically a variety of roots and tubers. They have no taste for non-indigenous food.

Chapter 26 – Stasis

After the crewmates finished their meals, they sat back and waited for Gorian to provide them with news. The Raven wasn’t designed for prolonged occupancy — all on board, with the exception of Iggy — were beginning to fray. The nauron retired to a corner of the cargo hold, sat down, and occasionally sprayed his-her skin with a bottle of brine. When not spritzing, Iggy was so still that it was difficult to tell whether sheit was still respiring. Verat had produced a bottle of brandy and was rapidly losing coherence. Grey tried sleeping but was too warm and uncomfortable to succeed. Fromer remained in the command room tending to Melat, who was not responding but seemed stable.

Ten hours passed; Gorian continually conversed with the Raven’s HM and was looking worn. Grey occasionally brought her drink and food, but she rarely took the offer. The remainder of the crew including Fen was in some stage of unconciousness given that Verat had produced additional bottles of libation. Grey was characteristically disgusted with the general state of things. Gorian’s vision was blurring when a soft beeping emanated from the control panel. “Oh no,” she whispered.

The screen announced that the starboard aft thruster fired for a millisecond. Whether it was caused by a slight power fluctuation or the movement of Melat’s consciousness didn’t matter, what mattered was that the Raven’s orbit had begun to decay. In about two hours, they’d enter the outer atmosphere of the giant ball of gas and burn to cinders.

Grey approached her with a tray of cookies. She whispered in his ear. “Grey, we have a problem.”

“Can we put everyone in the shuttle and abandon the vessel?” he responded quite audibly. Whispering was clearly unnecessary given the sauced condition of most of the crew, Iggy’s dormancy in cargo, and Fromer’s absence in command.

“The shuttle’s life support is limited. With all of us in there, we’d only last a couple of days at most.”

“What other options do we have?”

She sighed. “Well, I haven’t been able to identify how to get Mel hooked back up safely. We could just try plugging her back in again and take our chances. But the risk of her pulling out her drip and disconnecting again is high. Until I identify what caused her to disconnect the first time, we risk having it happen again. And we may not be so lucky the second round. She could go into shock, have a heart attack, or simply go completely vegetable on us.”

Grey did not relish the options of burning in planetary entry or being torn apart in a drop. “Do we have a final option?”

“Give me one more hour.” Adrenalin reincarnated her.

Fromer appeared from the command room; Grey announced the grim news to him. Fromer nodded his head and scratched his tuft of hair. “Gorian is in her element. She will solve the problem.”

Gorian was feeling less certain. The Raven’s programming was very complex. Unlike the Platform, she hadn’t surfed the vessel’s computer code recreationally for months. The Raven’s logic flowed in her brain and made sense, but there was so much of it to process. And even though her body was energized, she could feel her mind softening from exhaustion.

An hour and a half elapsed and the ship approached the rim of the atmosphere. The hull temperature rose slightly as the first atoms and molecules of the multi-hued gas giant started dragging along the Raven’s coal black exterior. Gorian inhaled deeply, the smell of sweat, brandy, and salt grasped her nostrils. She closed her eyes. Lines of glowing blue code branded her mind. An uncontrollable voice rose up from the depths and screamed: You’re going to burn Gory Ann. The code in her head darkened, turned to ash; her thoughts wandered in despair. Burn, burn, burn. She opened her eyes ready to submit to defeat, when a line of blue symbols reappeared before her on the screen — whether it was a coincidence or perhaps a gift from Melat she did not know. But it was now clear to her what she needed to do.

When the hull reached its critical temperature, sirens blared, causing the entire crew to jump into sobreity. Iggy stood up, startled from his torpor, her-his huge eyes staring at Gorian. “Gorian, what is wrong?” He asked.

“Not now Ig, I don’t have time.” Gorian knew that programming was as much an art as a science. Each programmer wrote code in a unique manner. When she opened her eyes, the signature programming style of the sabotuer that altered HM on the Platform was blinking on the Raven’s screen in its holy blue light. She had but to search for this signature pattern throughout the Raven’s programming, remove it, and then Melat could be rejoined to her mind. Gorian frantically wrote the algorithms necessary to clean the programming, checked them quickly twice, and told the HM to execute.

As Gorian waited for her program to run through the vessel’s trillions of lines of machine code, the temperature in the cabin became unbearable. The scent of melting plastic and ionized metal assaulted them. No one spoke — the tension permeated the air. Fromer stood at the entryway to the command room waiting for a cue from Gorian. The Raven shuddered violently. Gorian rubbed her slick fingers and the screen went blank. The logical side of her brain was not expecting this and thought: This is strange. The emotional side of her mind, usually tucked far away, screamed: We’re going to die. I have to get out of here.

Gorian slumped backwards. The crew closed their eyes, expecting a fiery end. The cabin would begin to melt around them. Air would superheat. And they all would understand what Fen and Grey experienced on the Platform.

“Well, here we go. I never thought I would bake like a turkey. Turkey sounds delicious right now.” Verat swigged from his bottle.

In her periphery, Gorian saw a faint pulsing of blue light. She glanced at it to see the words: Plug me in.

With no time to process it, Gorian turned to Fromer and nodded; he ran into the command and grabbed Melat from the floor. How light she was. With one swift motion, he threw her into the seat, aligned the web of light to her spine and head, and jabbed the needle into her vein, potentially killing the one person he cared for in a very long time.

Deep inside the ship Melat awoke. Seeds floated in the gentle breeze.

The Raven lurched and its ion thrusters fired. The air cooled and the giant planet shrunk to a dot. Within moments, the vessel was near the buoy — a blinking red light suspended in nothingness. The quantum drives thrummed loudly and the crew was twist, twist, twisting away.

INTERLUDE

Loping in the bowels beneath space were the lifeless ones. Eyes lidless, hands without fingers, minds without consciousness. They existed before the universe began and would continue after it was lifeless again. They sought light. Light was to be coveted and corrupted.

In the dim nether region of their dominion, ships traveled from that place of light. Beings, intelligent ones, had arrived and were burrowing through. In and out, weaving through the sanctity of the lifeless ones’ realm, mocking them. They must react. But how might they find the light?

In the shadows they saw the tiny tendrils — roots — open a narrow seam before them. Not large. But big enough to squeeze through if they really tried. The light was dim, clouded, brown and musty. But it invited them and they accepted.

Life was tepid and simple there. They touched it and it did not recoil. Rather, it embraced them and they grabbed, scratched, foiled, mangled it. Foolish beings. Easily manipulated. From here, they would multiply. And bend the light to their liking.

Chapter 27 – Escape

Excerpt from personal journal of Grey Commons:

We’ve arrived at Nine. I feel wretched. I’m unsure whether it’s Verat’s damn cold, the aftermath of my injuries on the Platform, or the malfunction during the drop. Probably all of them. About the failed drop — I never want to experience that feeling again. I remember reading about an execution method on old earth where each of a person’s arms and legs were tied to a rope and hooked up to a horse; the animals were then forced to run in opposite directions, tearing the victim apart. Being drawn and quartered it was called. I have a new appreciation for those poor souls. I’m already dreading the drop back to the Platform.

We all also had the strange sensation that the malfunction occurred before — that we all had this experience, although none of us have been involved in a drop malfunction. We’re wondering whether some temporal hiccup occurred. The time on the navigation beacon of the Raven read about 30 seconds earlier than the chronometer of the buoy network. It looks like we did skip backwards in time.

It has only been two days, but we all feel like we’ve been stuck in the Raven for a week or more. We still have a huge mission ahead of us. Yet, morale and energy is waning. I’m the supposed leader of this mission, so I need to talk with everyone about focusing on Nine. After all, we survived a near miss, are not dead or injured, and still have the opportunity to study a developing planet up close.

Gorian’s been tight-lipped about what exactly was the problem with the ship and Melat. Gorian spoke with Fromer at length about something in the cargo hold. However, when I asked her about the problem, she said it was a glitch in the programming. In her opinion, Melat’s brain reacted to the computer error as a threat and responded by having her physically pull her body out of the system. This is a known side effect of piloting and has caused accidents in the past. But Gorian’s a bad liar; I know she’s holding back on me. Given her fragile state right now, I decided not to push her. Fromer on the other hand will be hearing from me soon.

Melat is well physically. However, she was dazed after the drop and has been sleeping heavily for the past few hours. We’re still expecting her to pilot the shuttle to the surface. We plan to let her sleep as we prep our supplies. We’ll wake her when we’re ready to go in the morning. I hope she’s more coherent then.

Prep is going as expected. Gorian has debuted her probes. They look like fat dragonflies. They’re designed to fly around the planet and drop tiny geologic sensors along the surface. Iggy has been calibrating a series of atmospheric samplers to give us precise compositional data about the organic molecules being produced by the plant life. I’m in charge of biological collections. Verat is primarily sampling surface water chemistry. We’ve noticed one container that has not been touched. I asked Fromer about it and he ignored me. I need to assert my command now. Uncle Fen will support me.

Chapter 28 – Descent

The tense crew was assembled in the cargo hold. Their equipment was packed, arranged, and locked down in the shuttle. Grey stood in front of them. “We’ve been through a lot during the past two days. In six hours, we’ll head to the planet. I needn’t remind you, I hope, that our mission hasn’t started yet. The business with the drop is behind us and we need to focus on the task ahead. We’ve drilled for this moment for weeks and each of you know your jobs. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Savor every instant.”

Minns, a skinny soldier with bags hanging under her eyes, threw an empty bottle into the recycler. “How sure are you that Mel’s in shape to ferry us down there? And more importantly to get us back? She’s not looking so great you know. Shouldn’t we wait for backup? We didn’t sign up for this kind of mess.”

“Melat is fine,” Fromer responded.

Grey reasserted himself. “Gorian’s already sent a transmission back to the Platform. Although there are no other long-range vessels and pilots on staff back there, our request has been relayed to the Institute. They’ll send a ship to the Platform in a standard day. If we’re stranded, we send a message to the navigational network and rescue will be immediate.”

Fromer was less sure that help would come. He looked at the others and thought many would agree with him.

Fen stood up. “I suggest we all get some rest before tomorrow. On behalf of the Institute leadership, I assure you that the Families are very excited about this effort. This expedition will be highlighted in our long history. You will all be commended and will receive bonuses for your bravery and perseverance.”

The crew members found places to rest. Few of them slept.

When the cabin lights rose and the time to depart neared, Melat was already in the shuttle running diagnostic checks. The bedraggled crew marveled at her new-found energy. If she was harmed in any way by her romp through the Raven’s circuitry, it wasn’t apparent. Only bruises and scabs on her hands betrayed her recent trauma. “Good morning all,” she muttered while scrolling through the shuttle’s systems screen. “Green lights across the board. A good day for some ordinary flying. Woohoo I feel good about this.”

Shuttles were interesting beasts. They navigated by altering the density of atmospheric gases around them. To descend, they thickened the air at the hull and slid toward the surface like a child racing down a slide. Its descent speed was controlled by altering the density of the air, making it thicker or lighter. To rise, the ship reduced the density of gas above it and the air below it created lift, much like the wings of ancient planes on old earth.

Melat turned. “Buckle up my friends. We’re departing. Train’s a leaving.” She flipped switches and pulled a harness over her shoulders.

The crew exchanged nervous looks.

Clicking and shuffling filled the space. The shuttle’s door slid closed, the air grew heavy, and in moments they were descending toward the planet. The Raven was barely visible, a vinette in a backdrop of stars. The shuttle shuddered slightly as they entered the mocha and cream atmosphere. The thrusters ceased and they began silently riding the drafts — a sophisticated sailboat gliding toward the surface. No turbulence was felt because the computer compensated for it.

Only Melat’s sensors knew when they approached the ground. The shuttle was enveloped by a thick fog; all they could see was a bright, brown haze. Fromer wondered how anything could grow on the ground. As if Grey could read Fromer’s mind, he commented, “The mist’s a lot thinner down here than it used to be. A surprising amount of light penetrates to the surface. Look at all the growth. It’s remarkable.”

The ship landed softly in a puddle of muck. The only sound was the sucking of mud as the pads sank into the ground.

“Thanks y’all for flying Melat Spacelines.” Melat clapped her hands, unlatched her harness, stood up, and pulled a bottle of water from a small hatch. She downed it in a single gulp.

Grey stood and stretched. His skin remained tight after healing from the burns. “Remember that we’re here during a summer in the northern hemisphere. It’s going to be hot and muggy out there. If you feel light headed, dizzy, or nauseous, stop what you’re doing and rest. Your suits should cool you down, but they only can do so much. We have plenty of provisions and are in no hurry. We want to do the best work. So take your time.” He looked at Fen. His uncle smiled approvingly.

Fromer glanced at Grey. Grey nodded in approval and Fromer spoke. “If you see anything unusual, notify me immediately. I do not care if I hear you belch or break wind, keep communications open — please.”

“I’m incapable of either bodily function, Mr. Fromer. Naurons do not digest using fermentation. Rather, we have special enzymes that digest our food.” Iggy noted to general laughter.

“Thanks for keeping things light Ig. Very illuminating.” Grey smiled slightly. “To follow up on Fromer’s comments, the terrain here’s fairly challenging. All surfaces will be slick with algae, moss, and a few lichens. You all have positioning systems loaded with the most recent elevational data. That doesn’t mean that every hole, crevasse, and boulder is in our digital space. So, please stay sharp. Check your climbing gear now to make sure it’s functional.”

The crew turned toward the shuttle door as it slid opened with a whir and a click. Everyone except Fromer and his security detail tumbled out onto the surface. The humidity clung to them. The air was viscous, an amoeba engulfing its prey. Moving their limbs was an effort. Many of them had rarely or never experienced high humidity in their climatic controlled environments. This was going to be a miserable experience.

“Where’s that roach Fromer?” Verat stared at the open portal of the shuttle, his feet settling in the mud. “Fromer, you and your entourage come outta there.”

Grey walked back up the gangway and peered inside. Fromer and the four soldiers were casually talking. Each donned a sidearm, slinging a rifle and a loaded pack.

“What in the hell is going on here?” Grey was clearly incensed. He turned back to the others to make sure they could not see the soldiers.

Fromer turned. “Grey, please relax. I have some explaining to do.” He then revealed the cause of the events on the Platform and the Raven.

Grey sat down. “I cannot believe that you’d willingly endanger our lives by allowing us to travel here in a ship that may have been sabotaged. How are we going to explain this to the crew. You’re making me look like an idiot. We can’t afford hesitation down here. We’ve too much to learn.”

Fromer leaned back. “Mel went through all the systems checks. She assured me that we were safe to go. I did not want to alarm the crew. If we did not go, then the perpetrator within the Institute would have succeeded in preventing your expedition.”

“I’m the leader of this expedition. Not you. And it is clear that the defabrication on the Platform was intended for me and Fen. Your responsibility was to keep me informed.”

Fromer stared at the portal.

“What are you thinking Fromer? Respond to me.” Grey demanded. “I always considered you an honest companion. Don’t risk my trust now.”

Fromer continued gawking. In the portal, silhoutted by the tan light was a figure that the hybrid hadn’t seen in nearly a hundred years. It was Mup by all physical characters, except his eyes and mouth were vacant, gaping black holes. He was glowing lightly. The soldiers and Grey turned toward the portal. By their reaction, it was clear to Fromer that they saw Mup as well.

“Mup? What are you doing here? How?” Fromer whispered in astonishment. The figure jumped backwards out of the portal. Fromer heard surprised shouts outside the ship as the remainder of the crew met the mysterious visitor bounding down the gangway.

Chapter 29 – Fromer’s Past

Fromer was merely fifty years old when he was assigned to his first security detail — young for his kind. His previous assignments were purely diplomatic missions to improve ties between the zenats and humans.

The fun was in security; he was thrilled. Piracy was a perpetual problem in deep space. Most of the criminals were rogue humans, many of them pilots that had broken from their guild and decided to control their own destiny. The vastness of space was their most effective weapon. They cached their spoils and hid on any number of uncharted, lifeless worlds. The planets undergoing terraformation were particularly fetching. The air on these planets was usually breathable. With some knowledge about the network of sensors around these planets, the pirates could evade detection and set up camps. Their motivations were complex. Obviously, economics played a role. However, governors of various colonies often were vying for power, using the pirates as clandestine weapons. A lost shipment here, kidnapped colonists there — these were ways for one planet to weaken the government on another. These games continued for centuries. Blood trailed through history.

Fromer was eager to assert himself. He was commanding a vessel, the Fuerst, named after the human leader of mars that led humanity through its exile from old earth. It was a fine battle cruiser, bristling with weapons. The pilot was an experienced zenat named Etch. Etch was grey, with dark streaks on his glowing skin. Scars formed webs on his arms and legs. Sixteen, well-trained commandos, all human, were Fromer’s to lead. Each soldier had enough firepower to storm a city. Their ship was the fear of the criminal world.

Several weeks before, a cargo vessel, the Stellar, was found floating powerless near a buoy in deep space, thousands of light years from any colonized system. The crew and passengers were missing, with the exception of one poor soul, the ship’s pilot. She was lashed to a communications dish on the aft of the ship. In her frozen mouth was a piece of parchment. Written in her blood was a single word: traitor. Her throat was slashed.

Fromer knew the doomed pilot of that ship and removed her body himself. Her name was Lizza. She was a nervous, young woman with a troubled past. Her brother was another member of the pilot’s guild who had vanished several years before and was a suspected pirate. Fromer convinced her to provide information about any contact she’d had with her sibling. It would take years of discourse to build trust between them. Fromer was a patient being and ready for the commitment. The brief exchange was the extent of their transaction. It was sufficient to warrant Lizza’s death.

Fromer and his crew had a lead in the case. Deep in the highjacked Stellar was a tracing beacon in a cargo container. The pirates were sloppy and apparently brought the beacon on board their ship. The transmitter, tucked discretely in a container of spices, was designed to communicate with the infraspace navigation network. When the pirate vessel neared a buoy, it sent a signal home to the Institute. The last known location was near a habitable ocean planet, similar to old earth. The naurons were terraforming it with great intensity with the assistance of Insitute exoscientists. This planet boasted only one continent. Most of the biological activity was being brewed by the terraformers in the briny depths. The rocky, mountainous continent only held a few forms of primitive plants dotted here and there along the slopes — a perfect place for pirates to hide. Caves and outcroppings were everywhere. A ship and thousands of cargo containers could be hidden most anywhere on the surface.

Former ordered Etch to drop the Fuerst onto the face of the planet’s closet moon. Most of the terraformed or colonized planets had large, earth-like moons. The satellites’ large mass created a gravitational pull that stabilized their planet’s gravity and allowed life to thrive on the surface. Fromer mused that the Insitute had a similar effect on the stability of the galaxy. Without the heavy hand of the Family Collective, chaos would reign. The Institute was a moon orbiting the mass of intelligent beings in the galaxy, creating stability and promoting the expansion of life in the universe. He felt a twinge of pride and, could it be? Affection.

They waited deliberately for nearly a week, scanning the continent for activity. Fromer was resting in his cabin when the evening watch announced that a small vessel — a shuttle — was descending toward the surface. Its source was unknown. The galaxy-class ship from which it likely came was evading detection. However, the trajectory of the shuttle was easily tracked until it slid behind a cragged mountain at the center of the continent.

Fromer decided it would be best to ambush the pirates at the surface. The Fuerst’s crew loaded their shuttle, cloaked the Fuerst on the moon’s surface, and flew toward the last location of the pirate vessel. Etch landed the shuttle in a small mountain pass near towering rock spires. The sky was grey, bubbling with clouds. From above, their ship was barely discernable from the boulders and gravel. They released four fist-sized, cylindrical drones, each of which hovered silently for a moment and then sped off in the suspected direction of the pirates’ encampment.

Telemetry data streamed in all morning from the drones. Each mountain pass, cliff, and cave looked the same. All of the soil and rocks were the same dull slate with an occasional patch of terraformed green. The soldiers took turns holding watch — for what they did not know. As the yellow star this planet called its sun dropped below the mountains, the temperature dipped. The soldiers retreated into the warmth of the shuttle’s central cabin. The moon was rising when drone three hit pay dirt. Its thermal sensors noticed a temperature anomaly. It steered in that direction and began streaming video to Fromer and his colleagues. From its elevated vantage, they could see a small city tucked in a deep crevasse a mile wide and a thousand feet below the surface. From space, the colony was invisible, cloaked in shadow.

The three other drones joined their brother and began discretely surveying the area. In many ways, the pirate colony resembled the school compound — the Quarters — where Fromer spent his early childhood. Buildings were strewn haphazardly across the floor of the canyon. Some were round, others angular. Several of the facilities clearly extended underground. To the south in the shadows sprawled a makeshift spaceport. Ships of every kind were tightly packed, nearly touching each other. Fromer began the inventory of the fragile eggs in their rocky carton: the Deacon, lost two years ago; the X457, stolen during a firefight not far from zenat; the Rennick Blue, a transport vessel. This last one had a particularly chilling history. The passengers, three hundred colonists including twenty-three children, were moving to a recently terraformed planet. They all were recovered frozen solid, floating near a navigation buoy. It appeared that they were placed in the cargo hold of the Rennick Blue en masse and blown into space. Fromer counted another thirty ships, of which he could identify twenty-five. These were productive pirates. This was an encounter for the history texts.

“There is no doubt that these are the bad guys,” Fromer muttered to Etch. Etch closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

Etch glanced at another screen. “The biological sensor estimates about five hundred sentients in the colony. It cannot penetrate more than a few feet underground. I would double the number of combatants to one thousand to account for individuals hidden below the surface. Most of the life appears to be human. However, there are zenats and even a few naurons present.” Etch took a bite of meat from the grilled leg of some zenatan animal.

“It is time to call in the calvary.” Fromer grinned. His black eyes twinkled in the moonlight.

The Institute and zenat high command sent three battle vessels within the next day. The naurons sent an additional spy ship to observe the fight and assess its impact on their embryonic world. Fromer and his crew remained hidden on the planet and waited for events to unfold. The soldiers were upbeat and excited about the prospective tussle.

The first volley came quickly. A small galaxy class pirate ship dropped into high orbit. The Institute vessels quickly surrounded it while the vessel’s quantum drive was still glowing. Its crew surrendered immediately with the exception of the pilot, who jettisoned himself into space. Fromer’s drones revealed that several of the ships on the surface were preparing for flight. It was time for them to act.

Etch jumped into the pilot command while Fromer and his soldiers piled into the rear of the shuttle. The shuttle lifted silently and circled the crevasse — the city and makeshift spaceport deep in the gloom below. Shots from a small plasma cannon in the tiny city flew toward the shuttle. Etch expertly evaded the smoking, golden orbs as if they were annoying snowballs. Each soldier jumped out of the shuttle, forming a perimeter around the colony. Each was armed with a pulsed ion cannon, which ionized the hulls of ships causing their thrusters to fail. The weapons were silent, clean, and safe for organisms — but deadly to any ship or equipment that required power to operate.

The first ship to lift was a scarlet and black cruiser that held a complement of about fifteen people. Fromer’s soldiers fired. In moments, the vessel stalled and fell back to the platform with a metallic thud. No explosion occurred. But Fromer was quite sure the inhabitants were either dead or gravely hurt. The attack would give the pirates pause about sending more ships into the narrow space. The same qualities that hid the colony so well made it impossible for the stolen ships to escape.

Five more Institute and zenat shuttles appeared above the canyon, gleaming in the sunlight. Another volley of half-hearted fire emerged from the surface. Soldiers dropped out of each vessel, landing strategically in the rocks around the colony. From his vantage along the rim of the crevasse, Fromer heard rifle shots, explosions, and screaming. It was time for him to descend.

He opened his pack, deployed a thin rope, and deftly lowered himself down the slick rock face. The ground was enveloped in a thick haze of smoke. Screams and rifle fire spun directly ahead. From the drone recon, he and Etch identified a command center, which was about a thousand feet to his right. If orders were being given to the pirates, this is where they were generated. He felt his way to the rock wall and followed it, frequently glancing at his positioning system. The smoke thinned slightly and he saw it — a metallic building with a series of antennae on the roof. In this stony chasm, all transmissions needed a serious boost. It was from this building that they were being broadcast at high power. Two figures — one clearly human and the other likely zenat — crouched before the door, repeating rifles clutched in their hands.

Fromer reached into his pack and produced a small stick. He flicked his wrist and the pole tripled in size; a glowing blade appeared on the end — his one gift from Minna — a lancet. He leapt silently at the door. In two quick swipes, the guards were splayed open, blood streaked on the ground. He pulled a lens from his helmet visor, placing it over his right eye. It allowed him to image the heat signatures in the building. The computer in his visor reported that there were likely five humanoids in the building. Two were in the room directly beyond the door. The others were in a rear area. It also showed a tunnel below the building with an unknown cadre of individuals.

Fromer ripped a canister from his hip belt, kicked open the door, and threw the can inside. Smoke filled the room; Fromer rushed forward. His visor showed a figure crouching in the corner. He pounced, dispatching the pirate with one flick of his lancet and a fine mist of blood. He felt a jab on his back and turned to see a black figure with a large pole in his hand. A hulking zenat dressed in traditional battle armor grinned at Fromer in the haze. Fromer stepped back, stumbled, and fell. The zenat warrior lunged forward with his pole. Fromer flipped around and swung the lancet at his attacker’s legs. An image of Mup briefly passed his mind. The warrior screamed in pain. Fromer shoved his knee in the zenat’s face and finished the creature with his lancet.

Bits of dirt and metal sprayed Fromer’s face. Somone was firing at him with a simple rifle from an adjacent room. Fromer crouched behind an empty cargo container and lobbed a concussion grenade. Upon impact, the grenade collapsed the pocket of air around the shooter. She groaned as her eardrums ruptured from the implosion. Fromer jumped, grabbed her rifle, and ended her life.

The visor computer calmly announced: “Assailant forward, ten meters, 25 degrees.”

Fromer realized this was a combatant in the adjacent room, waiting for him. He spoke calmly. “Come out and I will not harm you.”

The smoke lifted. Fromer stood facing the rear door as a squat, muscular figure appeared. Mup.

“Hello old friend.” Mup leaned on the threshold, twirling his lancet casually. It was still undeployed — contracted with no blade in sight. Fromer recalled the happy day Minna gave the weapon to Mup.

“Mup. What are you doing here? Are you being held captive?” Fromer knew the answer but was still processing his disbelief.

“Fromer, you know better. It could easily be you standing here. These people on the floor were my friends, my family. You killed them all. I can’t let this stand.”

Fromer sat on the container. “Mup, we have no friends and family. This was clear when we left the training world. You and I, we are freaks of the galaxy. Look at us. We can produce no offspring; we are lethal; we have no history.”

“My dear brother, you’re so very wrong. We’re free like the rest of them.” Mup gestured to the fallen soldiers. “We owe allegiance to only those we choose. It’s false that the Institute and zenats guide our future. They may have created us in a laboratory. No love or passion was present during our inception. But this doesn’t mean that we must live our lives devoid of these feelings. We aren’t tools of the Collective’s greedy alliance. Can’t you see Fromer? They want control of it all.”

“You are deluding yourself Mup. Do you believe these people, these cold-blooded killers are your friends? They are driven by greed and profit, not a search for freedom. I daresay many of them pillage and destroy for the sheer joy of it. That is purely evil. They are agents of destruction and disorder. They are using you just as the Institute does — for your strength, intellect, and agelessness.”

“I fell in love, Fromer. She was the pilot on one of my missions for the Collective. We realized that we had similar stories. Both of us were indentured agents for the Families. We lost our childhood to the calculus of galatic progress. Her brother, another pilot, had already rebelled and joined our cause. She was working for us while she continued serving the Families.”

Fromer winced. He knew this was Lizza.

“Of course, you knew her.” Mup snarled. “When we learned that she was providing you, my friend, with our movements through her brother, she had to die.”

“Mup, I had just contacted her a few days before. She never had a chance to provide me with information. For all I know, she was planning to send me false leads and was still loyal to you and her brother.”

“Nice attempt to defuse the situation. You remain a diplomat at heart. She confessed before I killed her.”

Fromer was puzzled. Did Lizza have a deathwish? Could the impossible position of serving two worlds have been too much for her? He would never know.

“Mup, you are lost. I need for you to surrender and tell your troops to give up.”

“We’re pirates. We serve no one but ourselves. And we don’t fear death. We planted fission charges throughout the canyon. I’ve set them to explode if your troops do not back off.”

“How do I know that you are not bluffing? They taught us well in school. This is a classic negotiation tactic.”

“I’ve rejected that life. Be certain my friend that I’m not bluffing. If you check the manifests of the Deacon, it was carrying five nuclear weapons. I’m sure you know that.”

Fromer had assumed the pirates sold the weapons to the underground markets. Scorching their loot, even in defense, did not seem to fit the pirate code of conduct. Still, the risk of losing the imprisoned passengers of the Stellar, about one hundred soldiers, plus untold amounts of contraband was unacceptable. He spoke into his transmitter and ordered his troops to fall back. Given the poor transmission quality in the crevasse, he was unsure whether he was heard by all. But the sound of fighting outside waned.

“Mup, we will starve you out. There is no winning this conflict. We will keep you confined to the canyon until you surrender. We can wait years if necessary.”

“The passengers of the Stellar will provide some bargaining power. We discovered a Family member among their ranks: Destin Fuerst.”

Fromer was seldom surprised. But there was no information about Destin being on this ship or missing for that matter. “Mind if I check your veracity?”

“By all means check, old friend.”

The Institute Command confirmed that Destin was missing, although he was not listed as a passenger on the Stellar manifest. Fromer also received an encoded message, only visible in his visor screen: DESTROY ENEMY AT ANY COST.

Fromer considered the impossible vision of his friend. They last saw each other nearly 15 years ago at some dull conference in nauron space. No conversations occurred between them. But Mup tipped his hat to his friend and Fromer knew their bond had not broken. How Mup had changed since then. But it wasn’t surprising. The sheer loneliness, the detachment, even the boredom was enough to send the brightest and most fortified into a tailspin. He had struggled himself. But to become a wanton, profit-driven killer? This made no sense. The Mup he knew and, yes, loved, was gone. It was time for Fromer to call his bluff.

Chapter 30 – Fight

Mup was ready when Fromer launched into the air and lunged toward him. Mup stepped backwards into the room behind him. When Fromer landed, the other hybrid had vanished. The cramped space was empty with the exception of a few chairs and a HM interface console. Fromer consulted his visor computer, which revealed a false wall behind the console table. Mup must have slipped through this way, Fromer thought.

After carefully surveying the space for traps and finding none, Fromer walked to the wall. When he touched it, his hand passed through. Holographic image, I will be damned. He gingerly poked through to find stairs leading down into the tunnel network. Mup could have gone anywhere.

He was greeted by a child’s cough in the darkness.

“Who is there? I am Fromer, a member of the Collective Command.”

“Thank God.” An adult male voice responded. “We’re the surviving passengers of the Stellar. Can you get us out of here? We’re dying of thirst.”

Fromer stepped down, still wary he was walking into a trap. In a passageway to his right was a small glowing door — the faint signature of a protective field. “Stand away from the door and cover your eyes.” He pulled a small gun-like item from his pack, aimed it at the door, and a plug of plasma screeched through the air. Upon contact, the door melted and the field disappeared. Fromer cautiously moved forward, his lancet firmly in his hand. One face, then another, and then six were peering at him through the entryway.

At first, one of them screamed, mistaking Fromer for Mup. Then they recognized his uniform — the patch with a red circle for mars and an open hand for zenat. He was an agent from home. Two human children ran toward him and grabbed his legs.

“Careful children. I am going to call in an extraction team. How many of you are there and are there others we should be searching for?”

A bedraggled man garbed in what was once the dress of an affluent mars citizen spoke. “My name’s Destin. There were fifteen of us. They killed the pilot and three crew members. The rest of us are in here. We’re tired and dehydrated, but otherwise fine. Please help the kids first.”

A group of six soldiers plus a shuttle arrived a few moments later. Fromer bid them luck and advanced into the tunnels. He dropped his visor and searched for information in the network of tunnels. A faint trace of warm air and elevated carbon dioxide wafted from one of the leftmost holes. These were taletell signs of a sentient. Given the high readings, Mup had crouched there in the dark, watching, for quite some time.

Fromer called down the tunnel. “Mup, my brother, it is not too late. I can help you. But you have to reconsider engaging the charges.”

He heard a faint, muffled laugh. Mup was playing with him. Fromer advanced quickly and silently, avoiding puddles and gravel and remaining vigilant in the pitch. His visor streamed information about heat and gas levels, which were rapidly rising. He closed in on his quarry. As he neared what appeared to be a blind end, a metallic thud shook him to his core. He looked up to see a massive door coming down. He stepped back and lobbed a plasma charge at the closed portal; within seconds the ceiling was gaping open, inviting him to jump up.

Fromer crouched and released the energy coiled in his legs, rising easily into what appeared to be another building. He spun around in time to see Mup’s lancet blade arcing toward him with a crack of a whip. The blade found Fromer’s shoulder, slicing an inch into his muscle. Blood spouted. No time for pain, Fromer. He crouched again and lept several feet over Mup’s head. As Mup turned, Fromer unleashed his lancet, running toward his friend. Before Mup could react, Fromer’s lancet was lodged in his opponent’s neck. Mup stared in disbelief as he fell to his knees. Blood ran in rivulets between his fingers.

“Mup, you are still dear to me. But you are lost. Please tell me how to deactivate the charges as your final act. Be heroic. If not for them, do it as one gift to an old and only friend.”

The deep black of Mup’s eyes was fading to gray. He pointed across the room to a console and crumpled to the ground. Fromer ran to the interface and scrolled through the menus. This wasn’t a weapons terminal. Rather, it appeared to be a series of inventory logs. He pointed to “weapons” on the menu and saw that the Deacon’s nuclear arsenal was sold in entirety to a group called the FRT. He was relieved that Mup was bluffing about the trap. However, he had no knowledge of the FRT and why this group would want such destructive and dirty weapons. Fromer would spend the better part of his next fifty years unraveling this mystery.

With the risk of a nuclear-fueled collapse gone, the Collective troops descended on the colony. Two days of furious fighting ensued, mostly involving messy hand-to-hand incursions in tunnels. Both sides were steeped in blood, but the superior numbers and far greater firepower of the Collective prevailed. A thousand pirate soldiers, including a hundred children and a few prisoners, were discovered in the hidden city.

From the shuttles, it was impossible to see the remaining buildings of the pirate colony through the thick, opressive smoke. Bodies were already decaying — the smell of death clung to the survivors as if reminding them that they might not be so lucky next time. Fromer returned to the building where he and Mup sparred for the last time. He always was faster. Mup should have known better.

Fromer entered the room at dusk. Mup’s body was heaped in the corner where Fromer left it. Fromer leaned down and waved away the flies. It amazed him how certain animals followed sentients, no matter how desolate the conditions. He wagered that long after the pirate colony was cleared and all sentients left the planet, the nauron terraformers would be contending with the vermin. He picked up Mup’s limp body and placed it in his shuttle. He shook his head as the shuttle lifted and headed for the Fuerst.

Etch moored the Fuerst at a location equidistant between old earth and zenat. Fromer entered the cargo bay alone. Mup’s body was zipped in bag, lying on the floor of the room. Fromer suited up, opened the bay doors, and gently guided Mup to his resting place in the vacuum. Fromer was uncertain how he should feel. Confused and conflicted were the best descriptors, he supposed. Mup had grasped at free will, but it corrupted him. Would Fromer meet a similar fate if he turned his back on his responsibilities?

To the Institute, Mup no longer existed. All evidence of his exploits, adventures, and eventual self-exile was purged from the system. After all, it would be alarming if the galaxy learned that the protectors of human-zenat relations were going rogue. It might mean the end of collaboration and perhaps even war between the two species. This burden Fromer and his kind knew all too well.

Chapter 31 – Ghosts

“It’s another insect-man, hybrid thing. Fromer, your brother is out here.” Verat exclaimed as the glowing creature jumped above their heads and ran into a nearby gorge.

Fromer appeared at the gangway, exuding a combination of fear and curiosity. Mup was frozen in deep space. And Mup was here. Ghosts indeed walked this world. Fromer looked at Verat. “Where did he go?”

Verat whistled. “Well, I’m not disappointed so far.” He pointed at the gorge. “Are you going to follow him?”

“Of course not. You all did see him?”

The group nodded. Grey stepped forward. “This individual was your kind, right? Did you recognize him?”

Fromer calculated for a moment. “He appeared to be hybrid, but I did not recognize him.”

“But I thought you said a name?” Grey queried.

“For a moment, he looked like someone I knew nearly a century ago. He is long dead.”

Grey gathered the crew. “Well, our fears appear to be true. A clandenstine group is here on the planet. We don’t know how many people there are or their purpose. In anticipation, we’ve armed the security detail.” He glared at Fromer while saying this. “Fromer and his guard will accompany all expeditions. No one else is authorized to carry weapons. We don’t need a bunch of trigger happy scientists shooting at each other in the fog.”

Melat hopped back toward the shuttle, examining the hull. “I’ll prepare the vessel for a lift off in case we need to leave in a hurry. Don’t go missing me while I’m away.” She vanished through the portal. The crew exchanged anxious looks.

The scientists and soldiers spent the day erecting shelters and setting up a technology station. Cabling was strewn about. Open containers were used as makeshift furniture. Grey announced his plan. Gorian and Melat would remain at the shuttle site and coordinate communication, protected by two guards, Banna and Tyrrel. Iggy, Grey, Verat, Fromer, Fen and two soldiers — Minns and Rhodes — would head uphill, north to the location of the most electrical activity. All would take samples along the way.

Grey expected the first expedition from camp to take forty eight hours. They’d follow magnetic north on their compasses. Almost all terraformed planets had a magnetic field. Interestingly, the Institute’s home world of mars didn’t have one. It had to be generated by huge reactors on both poles. These magnetic polar waves formed a protective shield from the sun’s harmful rays and were necessary to allow life to thrive. Nine, like old earth, had an unusually strong natural magnetic field, making it very desirable for life but difficult for radio communications, especially at the poles.

Travel progressed smoothly. At each kilometer, they stopped to sample. Iggy dragged behind the others, diligently collecting samples of air and glancing at his data tablet.

“Can you hurry it up Ig? Have you devolved into a slug?” Verat asked.

“What’s the hurry Verat?” Grey was clearly annoyed. “We need to make sure these data are clean and precise. Iggy’s doing a great job.”

Iggy turned to Verat and grinned widely with his toothless mouth.

Verat growled and kneeled down to sample a puddle of water.

The vegetation thickened. Grey categorized species he’d never seen before. It was as if his father had designed an entirely novel set of cultivars for this world.

“Do you think there’s contamination from the illegals? The smugglers could’ve planted this stuff.” Grey asked.

Verat chuckled. “You really are naïve or deluded. Do you think that Fromer-like thing was really a pirate or a smuggler? I swear it was transparent. We’re seeing ghosts, Grey. Or we’re having a wicked mass hallucination. The creature is just like the ones we saw from space. I think we all may be tripping on some drug in the air.”

Fen stopped and sat down. He unbuckled a boot and began rubbing his foot. “This is exactly as he predicted.” He seemed to be muttering to himself.

“Uncle Fen, what are you saying?”

“Grey, I haven’t been completely forthright with you. With you all. Your father was obsessed with this planet. He said he had discovered some late writings by Pinchot Ferris, after the fall of earth. Everyone discounted her research when she became a recluse. But he felt that she was on to something. He talked incessantly about life being a doorway to another universe. Like a biological quantum drive, but far more powerful.”

“I have some notes that I’ve been trying to decipher for years. Uncle Fen, I think you should take a look.” Grey produced his data tablet from his pack.

Fen looked at the screen for a long time. “These are ancient runes from home. The sentients used them occasionally in burial chambers. I don’t know much about them.” He pointed to a string of symbols next to his father’s documentation on Nine’s geology. “See these? The sentients used each symbol to represent a simple concept, similar to some writing used by old earth cultures. These seem to represent water and lightning or electricity. This one that looks like a snake? I think it means close to the ground. And this one, I know for sure — it represents danger or death. It’s almost as if he was writing about hazards on the planet. Something related to the electrical field and perhaps the biology? Hard to say really.”

Verat laughed. “This gets better all the time. Now we have some symbology that warns us that we might get zapped or strangled by a snake? Was your dad playing some sick joke on us? I loved that man, but he did have some quirks.”

Fen rose angrily. “I assure you that my brother did not consider this world a riddle or joke. He was very serious about this place. He believed that it had the potential to transform life in the galaxy.”

Iggy stepped forward. “Excuse me, but we — have so — daylight. I suggest we — forward.” His/her transmission was crackling but still somewhat understandable.

Grey was amused. “By all means, Ig, lead the way.”

The slope was inclining and the crew swooned in the oppressive air, despite their climate suits. Only Iggy seemed to be unaffected by the environment.

“Iggy, how are you managing?” Minns was sweating, fat globes adhering to her forehead. “You’re happy as a clam, aren’t you?”

“I am — well, Ms. Minns. My body temperature depends to — extent — the environment. The warmth and humidity — stimulating to me.” Sheit stopped and began taking yet another sample.

“Is it my imagination or is the haze thickening?” Fen asked.

Iggy responded. “My gear — fifteen percent increase — humidity and — upswing in suspended organic particles.”

After several more kilometers, they stopped to rest and eat. Minns looked puzzled. “Has anyone seen Rhodes? About twenty minutes ago he stopped to take a leak. I thought he’d caught up. But there’s no sign of him.”

Fromer frowned. “I will go back with Verat and see if we can find where he his. Do not move from here until we return.”

Verat looked at Minns. “Mind if I take one of your weapons? If I get separated from Fromer, I’d like to have a fighting chance against the ghosts — pirates, whatever.”

Fromer shrugged. “Minns, please give Verat one of your side arms. Verat, do you know how to use this?”

“Sure do. I love shooting things. Grey’s my next target.”

They vanished in the haze.

Verat ran to keep pace with Fromer. Fromer bounded over boulders; Verat scrambled. The heat in Verat’s suit was building faster than it could be eliminated. Thoughts flooded his mind. Look at me, a steamed vegetable. Why did I let Grey get me into this mess? Something is seriously wrong with this place. I bet Rhodes went back to the camp. Why is Fromer moving so fast? How does he do that?

Verat fell back in a puddle of slop, heaving. “Fromer, stop. I need a rest.”

A thin breeze grazed the nape of his neck. Fromer appeared, as if he formed instantly from the haze. Verat gasped. “God, Fromer. You scared me. I’m going to have an embolism if you keep pushing me this way. I don’t have your hyped up metabolism. Take it easy.”

“Rhodes may be in distress. We have no time.”

“Fromer, do you know something that we don’t?”

Fromer paused, considering what he should divulge. “That being that we saw at the shuttle? I know who he is — or was. He was once my friend and he is very, very dangerous.”

“Was? Is everyone losing their minds? Fromer, of all the sentients on Platform, you’ree the one that I always felt some admiration for. Now you’re talking about a living being in the past tense? What’s happening here?”

“I cannot say. But if Mup is alive, then we all need to be afraid. Please keep your wits about you.”

“Now Fromer, you know I always have some wit hanging around me.” Verat stood slowly.

Something moved — slid — in the mist behind Fromer.

Fromer swept around, his lancet appearing from nowhere. Its green glow was dampened by the organic mist.

“What the hell was that?” Verat’s sweat iced over.

“I do not know. That was not a hybrid — Mup. It sounded like a large animal with no legs. It is locomoting by undulating on the ground. I would surmise it is a snake or a large worm.”

“That’s even more impossible than seeing dead people. No multicellular life should be on the planet. We’re not due to introduce any animals on Nine for another twenty years.”

“Something very large is out there. I suggest we contact Gorian. She can send a drone here. It can use sonic imaging to tell us what is down here. How many as well.”

“Fromer, please don’t tell me you think there is more than one out there.”

“I do. And they are watching us.”

Chapter 32 – Confrontation

Gorian was chewing her nails. Her overbearing, loudmouth mother was still sitting there in her head telling her to stop that nasty habit. That internal voice made her want to bite them more — to the quick. The gooey haze of Nine penetrated all of her pores, not just physically but psychologically as well. The place was beyond oppressive. And they think that people will want to settle here?

Of course, in a couple hundred years, most of the goo would be converted to plants and animals. The sun would shine. And the sky would be clear and blue. But in this drab, beige state, it was impossible for her to believe. She didn’t have the patience of a biologist. She needed to engineer the solution now. Why work on things that would not mature until you are bones and only a distant memory? Instant results made her happy. This place did not.

She pulled her drones from their boxes and began prepping them for their trans-planet flights. Her metallic insects, ready to do her bidding now, not later. They gleamed, steel blue against a bland backdrop. Tiny optical ports rotated and focused on her face. These were her children. She smiled at them, and gave one a reassuring pat. Another was smudged. She polished it with her sleeve before setting it down on her table.

“You’ll do a great job out there. Come back to me safe.”

For a moment, she thought one of the drones answered her. It was the tinny voice of Verat on the comm band, too garbled to understand. She lowered the bandwidth and boosted the signal by switching to text communication.

Gorian com: VERAT, CANNOT USE VERBAL. PLEASE SWITCH TO TEXT. OVER.

A few seconds passed — more garble on the transmission. Then Verat figured it out.

Verat Comm: GORIAN. RHODES AWOL. FROMER & I SEARCHING. IS HE AT CAMP? PLEASE SEND DRONE TO OUR APPROXIMATE LOCATION. UNKNOWN LIFE HERE. NEED IMAGE AND NUMBER AROUND US. OVER.

Gorian stared at the screen, mouth agape. She tore the edge of her thumbnail off and spit it out. She began typing in earnest.

Gorian comm: VERAT. RHODES NOT AT CAMP. WILL SEND DRONE IMMEDIATELY. OUT.

Gorian sent a series of messages from her data tablet to drone number one. The metallic bug responded with a lurch, buzzing and hovering in front of her. She gave her tablet a final tap and the drone shot into the muddy fog. Imagery from the drone streamed onto her screen. Only swirling chocolate milk was visible. To compensate for the radio interference, she reduced the quality of the video. It came in waves as isolated frames. Better than nothing. The drone recorded everything, so she could review it later.

She released the other drones and focused her attention on number one. She flipped on the sonar tracking and turned off the video. Using the same echolocation tactics that earth bats use, she directed the drone’s vision through the haze. She identified shapes on the ground as rocks and gullies. As she neared the location where Rhodes disappeared, she slowed the drone and increased resolution and magnification. She spied movement on the ground. It was a single humanoid figure crouching next to a large boulder. Around the figure — Rhodes she surmised — were what appeared to be long vines about twice the width of a person. As the drone circled sending stuttered pictures to her, it was quite clear that the vines were changing shape and closing in on Rhodes. She spat another nail in the dirt and typed.

Gorian comm: RHODES IN TROUBLE. 500 FEET SW FROM YOU. CREATURES IN VICINITY. OVER.

Verat comm: WE R SURROUNDED TOO. CANNOT SEE THEM. USING GUNS TO KEEP BACK. CANNOT CONTACT RHODES. OUT.

Gorian glanced at the screen. The things were almost upon Rhodes. He tried to climb the rock but kept falling back. As she watched the grainy images unfold, her stomach tightened. The tubes, snakes, vines, whatever they were had reached Rhodes. He appeared to be firing his gun. The creatures descended on him. The next image showed a scene that Gorian would never forget. Rhode’s figure was transformed into clumps — a torso, perhaps a head, and arms. Or were those legs? The monsters had vanished.

Gorian comm: RHODES DEAD I THINK. OVER.

Verat comm: R U SURE? THINGS HAVE DISAPPEARED. MOVING TOWARD HIM. OVER.

Gorian comm: WATCH YOUR BACK. BRINGING DRONE OVER U. OUT.

Gorian felt like vomiting and then screaming. But, she had lives to protect. She closed her eyes and focused on the drone, hovering it over the shapes of Fromer and Verat as they approached what was left of Rhodes. There was no sign of the creatures. Gorian swore to herself that they dissolved into the ground.

Verat comm: REACHED RHODES. UGLY. OVER.

Gorian comm: SEEMS SAFE. RETURN TO OTHERS. WILL FOLLOW WITH DRONE. OVER.

Verat comm: OK. OUT.

The drone followed Fromer and Verat until they reached the others; all were plainly visible from above. She was readying her comm to send a message to Verat when she heard the heightened voices of Banna and Tyrrel behind her.

“Melat, dammit, open the shuttle door.” Banna looked over at Gorian and Tyrrel, looking confused, terrified, and bemused. “I think we have a problem here. Melat’s in the shuttle and not responding.”

Gorian spoke while gazing at her screen. “I’m sure she has some reason. She isn’t initiating a take off, right?”

Tyrrel answered. “No, but she’s spending a lot of time at the helm. I can see her up there punching a bunch of commands into the console. What’s going on with her? She’s just gone completely off since the drop.”

Gorian spoke as calmly as she could into her comm. “Melat, what are you doing in there? We’re getting concerned about you.”

“I’m going to cleanse the planet. This place has been defiled by those who have no business being here. They know better.”

Gorian looked over at the two soldiers, her eyes wide. She spoke slowly, deliberately. “Mel, what do mean by that?”

The comm crackled. “I can’t allow this abomination to continue. The doorway’s open, breached. There’s no other way for us to stop this.”

Gorian switched the comm to Grey.

Gorian comm: GREY, ARE U LISTENING? OVER.

Grey comm: YES. STATUS? OVER.

Gorian comm: MELAT IN SHUTTLE. SHE IS LOCKED IN. WILL NOT COME OUT. ADVICE? OVER.

Grey comm: WE WILL SEND HELP. KEEP MEL CALM. OUT.

Banna walked up to Gorian. “She’s no longer at the helm. Must be messsing with something in cargo. Is there an emergency hatch? We’ve got to extract her.”

Gorian nodded. “No way. When a pilot secures the hatch from the interior, it’s impossible to force entry without damaging the vessel. In other words, making it impossible for the shuttle to get us off this rock. However, if I transmit the right codes to the HM interface, I may be able to override her lock. But that’ll take time and I’m trying to keep other people from being killed. For right now, I’ll have to let Mel do whatever she is doing. If you notice anything more unusual, you know like the drives powering up, please tell me.”

Gorian returned to the drone’s imagery. She saw that two of the crew were leaving the rest of the group.

Grey comm: SENDING VERAT, IGGY TO ASSIST. OVER.

Gorian comm: GOOD. WILL NEED THEM TO HANDLE DRONES WHILE I OVERRIDE MEL’S LOCK. OUT.

The drone hovered over the remainder of the crew. Depending on how well Ig and Verat were moving, they may make it to her by dusk, as long as they weren’t torn apart.

Chapter 33 – Traveling

Verat and Iggy submitted themselves willingly to the brown funk. They borrowed more weapons from Minns and Fromer and were headed back to camp. Verat carried a rifle. Iggy looked like an amphibious gunslinger with an ammo belt hanging loosely around his thin waist. Fen, Minns, Fromer, and Grey prepared to forge ahead, trudging away from the security of the Raven’s shuttle and their small camp.

“Are you sure we’re making the right decision? We should consider all our options and consequences.” Fen was rubbing the back of his neck and sipping water.

Grey responded. “Uncle Fen, this is a huge opportunity. If the planet has spontaneously generated multicellular life, we’ve discovered something ground breaking. Spontaneous generation of life has been disputed since Darwin. Perhaps Lamarck was right.”

Fen was exasperated. “You don’t have to impress me out here Grey. I’m sure you are as scared as I am. Think logically about this. Never once in the galaxy has spontaneous generation of life occurred. Animals don’t suddenly spring to life. These things were put here, perhaps by your dad as a defense. The question is, what was he defending? More unsettling is that someone contaminated this world on purpose, long after we set things in motion.”

Fromer put his hand on Grey’s shoulder. “You are the leader my friend. We have sufficient fire power to defend ourselves against those things. I just hope your father or whoever is responsible did not dream up other creatures. I am more worried about Mel and her plans for the shuttle. If she strands us, we will be in dire trouble.” Fromer did not tell them about the potential dangers of Mup’s ghost.

Grey was ready. “I neglected to mention that the Institute will send a rescue ship if they don’t hear an update from us in seventy two hours. Even if Mel leaves, we’ll be rescued. No worries there. What do you think is wrong with her? She’s slipped hasn’t she?”

Fromer felt compelled to protect his friend. “Mel is clearly sick. This is an after effect of the accident with the Raven. She seemed fine — perhaps too much so. Once Verat and Iggy return to camp, Gorian will be able to extract her and give her a sedative. If need be, I can command the shuttle into orbit.”

Grey noticed new activity on his data tablet. “Gorian says the drone gives us a clear path for another kilometer. No sign of the creatures. At the end of the road she says that there’s a sheer cliff wall — about 120 feet. We’ll have to deploy our climbing gear to get up there. We should be able to scale the wall and camp tonight above the cliff. Gorian says it is flat up there with less moss and shrubs. With no appreciable wind, the air should be less dense and the moisture less oppressive at the higher elevation.”

They walked into the haze, following the frequent guidance of Gorian’s guardian angel hovering high above them. The organic fog would ebb and thicken like waves lapping on an ocean beach. One moment, the entire crew was visible to each other; the next, a wrong step led to complete isolation. Pools of green slime occasionally belched gases, causing them to jump. The ground was ridged with thick, fibrous vines waiting to break their ankles.

Gorian and her drone told them that they were within 50 feet of the cliff wall. And then there the shelf was, barely perceptible in the fog. It loomed, stretching forever into the endless soup suspended above them. Grey noticed a blinking cursor on his tablet — another message from Gorian. He cocked his head and then sprang. “We have a problem,” he hissed. Two of the creatures are directly behind us. Gorian says they appeared from nowhere, as if they materialized from the fog.”

Fromer grabbed a repeating rifle from his shoulder and pointed it into the haze. The scratching and slithering grew louder. “Start up the wall. I will cover you.”

Minns pulled a canister from her pack, used a sight to aim it upward into the fog, and pulled the trigger. A thread of high tensile climbing rope blew out with a low whomp and extended upward into the invisible realm, finding purchase on a rock. Minns tugged on it to ensure it was snug and attached a climbing ring. The ring was made of a special polymer that adhered to the climbing rope, providing a secure hold as each climber advanced. Minns quickly disappeared. When she reached the top, she sent the ring back down and Fen started climbing easily — quite a feat for a man of advanced years.

Fen was about half way up when the hand appeared. Fromer and Grey were astonished. It was enormous, twice Fromer’s size. Each of its four fingers was encased in sinew and vessels — long, gray fingernails darted from their ends. The hand grasped at Fromer. He aimed and fired three shots. The demon dissolved into a slushy mass on the ground, pulsating.

“What in the world was that?” Grey exclaimed.

“I do not know,” Fromer said. “But let us hope that Fen sends the ring back down soon.”

The climbing ring slid down; Grey quickly grabbed it and ascended. Fromer never felt so isolated. All sound was absent — the fog had sucked it away from him. The tendrils of haze coalesced and for a moment Mup’s blank face hung before him, passing judgement, daring him to continue. Fromer aimed. With one shot, the face imploded into a glob of brown muck and hit the ground with a wet smack.

The next few moments were perceived as frames by Fromer. Three, perhaps four, hands appeared, all smaller than the first. In his periphery, Fromer saw that the hands were affixed to snake-like arms. They were coming for him. He grabbed onto the rope and found small nooks on the wall for his feet. He scurried up the rock face, leaving the hands behind him far below in the mocha swirls.

His compatriots were standing in a circle facing out, protecting their interior. Fromer asked, “Has anything occurred up here?”

“Not yet,” Fen responded. “What happened down there?”

Grey responded. “Beats me. I expect it has something to do with the organic composition of the fog. Somehow it configures itself into multiple shapes. Fromer, is this the same thing you and Verat saw and that likely killed Rhodes?”

“Neither Verat nor I saw the creatures. We did hear them and they made a similar sound. Let us check in with Gorian. Perhaps the sonar imagery can be compared.”

Grey began typing into his tablet. “Gorian says that the imagery was similar. Both the creatures that attacked Rhodes and apparated before us at the cliff were as solid as the rocks. They disappeared as quickly as they appeared. This really sucks. It’s almost like the fog itself is alive and can configure itself into shapes.”

The fog at this elevation was thinner and oozed off the edge of the cliff into the valley — a ghostly, silent waterfall. Visibility was surprisingly good. They saw several hundred feet into the mist. They were standing on a plateau stretching all directions away from the cliff edge. The sunlight waned.

“It is time for us to rest until dawn,” Fromer announced.

No one argued with him.

Grey tapped on his tablet. “Gorian reports that Verat and Ig made it back to camp. Thank mars. Melat’s still in the shuttle. She won’t respond to hails. The drone is about one hundred feet above us and detects no creatures nearby. Ig will take over recon for Gorian for a while.”

Fromer stood up, brushing dust and debris off of his legs. “I will take first watch. I suggest the rest of you get some sleep.”

The others produced packets from their bags. When opened, tents with sleeping sacks uncompressed. Each crew member slipped in and tried to drift into unconciousness. Fromer sat silently scanning the horizon for hands, snakes, Mup. Who knew what might materialize? The light quickly faded. The stars and moon were muffled by the haze. The darkness was nearly impenetrable. Fromer flipped on his visor and set it to detect heat patterns. He had no idea if the things out there generated that kind of energy. Without Gorian’s drone watching with him, he might as well be sleeping along with the rest of the crew.

He glanced occasionally at Grey’s tablet. Iggy sent a communication every fifteen minutes to ensure that communications were still open. Other than that, only the sound of breathing from the tents and an occasional oppressive breeze broke the monotony.

The first ghoul visited him two hours into his shift. Initially, it was a thin strip of light flickering in the distance. It floated toward him as he readied his rifle. His visor showed no heat. His finger tickled the trigger when the light expanded and a small child, a human girl perhaps three years of age, stepped out. He dropped his rifle sight, and watched in amazement. The girl was glowing, producing a light similar to that of his skin. She approached him and smiled, giving him a look that was both benign and wisened. This girl was much older than a toddler. As he was about to ask her who she was, she vanished — or more accurately, folded out of existence.

Fromer lifted Grey’s tablet and queried Iggy.

Grey comm: FROMER TO IG. DID YOU SEE A FIGURE? OVER.

Gorian comm: IG HERE. NO ACTIVITY OTHER THAN YOU AND THE TENTS. WHAT ARE YOU SEEING? OVER.

Grey comm: UNSURE. KEEP AN EYE OPEN. OUT.

Fromer was now fully alert, peering into the depths of the darkness. He strained. His eyes protested. He may have been ageless, but he still needed to rest. His body and more importantly his mind were pleading for him to stand down. He walked over to Grey’s tent and poked him.

Grey opened his eyes. “Fromer. Time for my shift?”

“Grey, I may be hallucinating. A little girl visited me a moment ago. She was glowing and silent. Before we could communicate, she vanished before me.”

Grey coughed quietly. “Anywhere else and I’d agree that you’re seeing things. But here, I think you’re seeing the visual anomalies reported by the satellites. We’re in the right area.” Grey crawled out. “It’s too hot to sleep anyway.”

Fromer perched against a rock and closed his eyes. “Wake me if you see more.”

Grey checked his tablet. Verat had taken Iggy’s place. The drone still saw nothing.

An hour passed and Grey found himself thinking of Gorian and what they might do if they survived this expedition. He’d ask her to go home with him — show her the mountains he loved as a boy. Enjoy the cool, crisp breezes and the clear skies. For now though, he was surrounded by a world that appeared to be wrought from Verat’s tea — with a touch of cream. It was thick, bitter, robust, and perhaps lethal at high doses.

He looked down at his hands for a moment. When he lifted his head, he fell back in surprise. Two glowing humans — strangely androgenous — stood before him within an arm’s distance. They were young, perhaps early twenties and smiled silently. Their eyes were vacant holes, which Grey should have found disconcerting. But the visitors radiated such serenity that Grey felt compelled to touch them. He reached out; they evaporated into a thin vapor.

“Fromer, wake up.”

Fromer was alert immediately. “What happened, Grey?”

“Two more just visited and now look.” Before them, hundreds of glowing figures — some human, some clearly zenat, nauron, or xyn, and others who were unrecognizable — were milling about. The darkness and the mist yielded to their soft glow. Fromer and Grey sat down and watched. When the figures neared them, some appeared to recognize the men, speaking to them without words. Other apparitions drifted past, preoccupied in their own paths.

Grey consulted his tablet. “The drone sees us but nothing else. I had Verat do a scan of electrical activity. It is elevated here but not by much. These things are running on less power than is needed for a flashlight. What should we do?”

“Wonder,” Fromer said with a grin.

Chapter 34 – Camp

Gorian was spent. She was recovering from the incident on the Raven and had just witnessed a man being torn apart by the very fog surrounding her. And now she was trying to extract a stubborn nut from its shell. She could use a hit of Verat’s strong tea. Miraculously, Verat appeared with a steaming cup and put his hand gently on her shoulder.

“You’re an amazing woman, Ms. Gorian. This should keep you going for a bit longer.”

She looked at him curiously. “What are you doing Verat? This is severely out of character.”

“I may be an ass. But I admire hard work and dedication. Also, you’re the only one who will be able to get this ass off this bizzare planet.”

She sipped the tea and grimaced. Verat walked back to her data tablet in the tech tent to monitor the drone and communicate with the expedition. She resumed tinkering with the data pad on the shuttle’s hull. She breached the first level of security. It was now a matter of time that her program would find the right path to override Melat’s lock. She looked over at Banna. He and Tyrrel were taking turns watching the camp’s perimeter. Tyrrel was napping in her tent. Neither of the guards had seen anything. She smiled at Banna and he nodded with a reassuring grin.

While Gorian crouched in the mud outside the shuttle door, Melat reclined on the shuttle floor only a few feet away, her mind in another universe. She recalled her time when they were stranded in transit. While submerged in the Raven’s guts, she met someone. Or perhaps it was something. It did not have a name or a form but it was intelligent and spoke to her. It told her things about the universe, about piloting, that made her swoon. There are secrets, it said. Follow me and I will show them to you.

The Raven was her mother and she bathed in its warmth. The being in the Raven told her that she would never have to leave this place. But you must do a favor for me first. She would have to go back to the cold, lonely place once more. Tell the woman how to bring you back and take them to the planet. When you get there, you will know what to do.

She let Gorian extract her from heaven, to allow her to become Melat again — the little girl with the extraordinary ability, pulling the strings of the universe, strands formed at the very beginning of space and time. When she began piloting, the instructors told her that everything in the universe was connected. When the explosion occurred and the universe started its expansion, every bit of matter and energy remained strung together, a tapestry forever stretching. Her talent was to step outside of the fabric, find a nearby fold, and jump back into the weave. She was the worm and it was her apple. This was her final trip through the vast expanse — the Raven her final companion. Soon, she would be cocooned in warmth and would never care again.

When the Raven arrived in orbit around Nine, she was giddy, energized, and ecstatic. This was her opportunity to set things right. Nine was an affront to the order of the universe. The being showed her that. Like life itself, Nine mocked the universe, creating order out of randomness. The universe was a clock slowly unwinding. Matter sank into gravity’s trap and energy surrended to decay. But life, well, it was determined to wind that clock up again, forcing light into the darkness. The universe she knew and understood was prepared to defend itself. The being she met showed her how it all began. It was beautiful and she longed for it.

The Raven was her sword — a means for salvation. She first needed to have the shuttle to herself. While the others preoccupied themselves with the unholy, undulating planet, she would retire to the shuttle. From there, she would command the Raven to join her on the planet. She knew her actions would concern her companions. But by keeping the shuttle on the surface, they’d refrain from calling for help and spend their time trying to reach her. This would give her the time needed to set her plan — their plan — in motion.

Returning back to the present in her mind, Melat stirred. She shuffled to the navigation panel of the shuttle and talked with the Raven, which was waiting patiently in orbit. She gave a series of commands. In response to its master, the Raven fired its thrusters and descended toward Nine. It extended its heat shields as the thick atmosphere tried to repulse it. Nine failed and the Raven penetrated the clouds towards its destination — a flat clearing devoid of vegetation about a kilometer away from the shuttle landing site. Soon Melat would fly the shuttle the short distance to the Raven and rejoin paradise. She’d activate the Raven’s quantum drive forcing a singularity — a black hole — to form on Nine’s surface, dragging the whole planet and the filthy creatures on it into oblivion, far beyond the boundaries of space and time. The universe would be safe and Melat would be home forever.

Outside the shuttle, Tyrrel switched shifts with Banna. Gorian was taking a fitful nap. Iggy had emerged from the stasis he called sleep. Dawn was approaching, casting murky shadows around the camp. They first felt rather than heard the approach of the Raven. The air pulsed in synch with the massive propulsion engines.

“This can’t be good,” Verat said as he looked up scratching his head.

Gorian was awake and in the tech tent instantly. “My God, Mel’s roused the Raven. I have one of the drones tracking it. She’s landing the ship remotely in a nearby clearing.”

“How’s she doing that?” Tyrrel was clearly regretting taking this assignment.

“The shuttle allows pilots to fly the mother vessel virtually. Melat is in there hooked up to the Raven via remote control. Why’d she bring the vessel down here rather than taking the shuttle up to it?” Gorian was perplexed. In the cellar of her mind though, she seriously considered that Melat was going to destroy the ship, the planet, and them with it.

She typed furiously on the comm.

“What are you telling the expedition?” Iggy asked.

“We may need their firepower to blow the shuttle out of the sky. We can’t let Mel reach the Raven. This is absolutely horrible.”

Chapter 35 – Invitation

The ghostly figures vanished as the sun rose in the hazy morning mist. Minns and Fen poked out of their tents.

“What’d we miss?” Minns asked groggily. Her hair was matted to her forehead; she looked miserable.

“A whole army of the walking dead,” Grey replied calmly.

“What are you saying, Grey?” Fen looked much older.

Fromer attempted to clarify. “We saw the anomalies. They were the figures of sentients wandering around. As far as we can tell, some of them were aware of us but unable to communicate. They weren’t solid. Rather, they seemed like projections. All of this is consistent with the imagery we gathered on the Platform.”

“Why didn’t you wake us?” Fen was clearly upset.

Grey answered. “We were so mesmerized that it didn’t cross our minds. We can stay here until tonight and try to quantify what’s occurring.”

Minns pulled breakfast out of her pouch — a small energy wafer. The others did the same. “Ooh wee, what I would give for a cool drink right now,” she said.

They sat and ate quietly. Fromer reviewed the video he shot that night. “Look at this footage.” Fen and Minns perked up and joined him.

As Fen looked over Fromer’s shoulder he said, “Oh my.”

“What’s wrong?” Minn’s asked.

“One of those figures is my aunt. She died 40 years ago. How is this possible?”

Fromer stood up. “The wonders continue.”

Minns and Fen continued gazing at the images in quiet contemplation. Grey busied himself on his data tablet, trying hard to concentrate on writing in his journal. A small light appeared on the screen — a new message from Verat.

“Oh no. I can’t believe this. Mel’s brought the Raven to the surface. Gorian fears that she may use it to destroy the planet.”

Realization about the quantum drive struck them all. Even Minns had heard the stories about using their primary means of galactic transportation as a weapon of unparalleled destruction.

“We must get back to camp immediately.” Fromer was already packing.

“This completely sucks,” Minns said. She was disappointed and frightened — a strange, unpleasant combination.

In a few moments they were perched at the cliff edge. Minns descended followed by Fen. Grey started down when Fromer felt a pleasant warmth radiating on his back. He turned to face Mup.

Mup was younger and happier. His face was complete — his dark eyes twinkled and his mouth grinned. “Hello my old, old friend. You need to follow me if you want to save your colleagues. Don’t fear. The nasty sour puss Mup the Mop that tried to kill you is no more. I banished him.”

Grey called up to Fromer. “Fromer where on earth are you? I know this is doubtful but do you need help?”

Fromer knew that Mup was right. It was illogical but he felt it within every cell. He shouted down into the fog. “Grey, I need you all to get back to camp immediately. I have to remain here for awhile. I will rejoin you soon. You do not have time to argue with me. Please leave.”

Grey paused for a moment. He knew that Fromer was impossible to persuade once he set his mind to something. “Fromer, I have no idea what you’re doing, but I’m going to trust you. Keep your comm on and we’ll keep watching you with the drone. We’ll not leave you on Nine.”

Fromer turned to Mup. Mup nodded, grinned broadly, and ran into the fog.

Fromer had no trouble keeping up. The ground was flat and the fog was lifting. Sunshine peeked through the mist. “Are you really Mup?”

Mup laughed deeply. “I’m not the same being that you left in space. He’s still there, a frozen brick, and good riddance. When I was him, I was so lost, angry, frightened. I did such horrific things. It’s amazing how a little death opens one’s mind.”

“Brother, I do not understand. If your body is where I left it, then who are you?”

“It’s impossible to explain. I don’t understand it myself. This world allows me — all of us — to manifest physically. Quite remarkable. We have very special plans for you.”

“We? Your plan — you will help me stop Mel?”

Mup chuckled. His pace quickened. “Stopping your friend, your dear lost love Melat, is a minor task compared to what’s in store for you — for all of us.”

Fromer’s eyes struggled to adjust to the radiance before him. He and Mup reached the edge of a lake. Sunshine sparkled merrily on ripples. Below the surface, Fromer saw stars. Or were they something else?

Mup picked up a flat, round stone and skipped it across the surface. “Remember when we were kids and imagined having a family — mother, father, siblings? What if I told you that there’s more than that? That we’re part of a greater family?”

Fromer sighed. “Mup, we do not have time for this metaphysical discussion. I know I am conversing with a ghost or a hallucination. However, Mel has lost her mind. She is going to destroy us. I need to know what I can do.”

“Your love Melat knows as well as I do that it’s all relative. Time here only has meaning when you’re in it. Jump into the water dear friend. It will all make sense. Or sense won’t matter anymore.” Mup giggled and jumped. Strangely, no splash followed.

Fromer gazed at the water and its ghost lights. The water was not water. It was clarity — vastly empty yet strangely full. He needed its warmth. Fromer the hybrid, one of the galaxy’s great technological achievements, followed Mup into the depths without making a sound.

Chapter 36 – Conflict

Fen, Minns, and Grey bounded through the thick haze, following beacons that Grey set along the way, just like the electronic bread crumbs he set in the tunnels of his home world so many years ago. Fen was laboring, his age finally challenging him. He hadn’t completely recovered from the fire on the Platform, which was not helping. He fell to his knees. “Grey, Minns, go ahead without me. I’ll catch up.”

“Uncle, we can’t leave you here.” Grey just abandoned Fromer. He couldn’t abandon one of the last threads of family behind in the organic ooze.

“Grey, give me a concussion rifle. When you stop Melat, you can recover me. If Mel suceeds, you won’t have reason to come back.”

Minns touched Grey’s arm. “He makes a compelling point. He’s got enough firepower to keep those things away from him. We’ve got to go. Now.”

Grey gave Fen a long desperate look. Fen nodded. And they started running again.

The planet then decided that they were to go no further. Swirls of fog coalesced before them. Hundreds of hands, wrinkled palms spread wide, surrounded them. Mud tendrils weaved in between the fingers and wrists, eel-like, obscene and sensual. Grey felt his stomach turn.

Minns was not happy. “I’m so tired of this miserable place. What the hell are these things? Grey, was your father completely insane? Who in the hell would come up with something so, disgusting? If he wanted to kill any intruders, why did he have to use such awful creatures?”

Deep down Grey knew that this wasn’t his father’s craft. Something corrupted this act of creation. Behind them, the concussion rifle fired four times, with the characteristic whump of collapsing air. Grey turned but the snakes and digits had weaved a thick blanket before him. “Fen? Are you okay over there?”

Fen’s muffled voice tunneled through. “I’m fine. I presume you’re mired like me?”

“A little bit. They haven’t attacked us yet. It’s like they want to trap us, not kill us.”

Minns started firing angrily into the hands. With each charge’s impact, a hand or tendril would fall into a pile of slop. But another formed in its place.

“Minns, conserve your ammunition. We need to wait until they become aggressive. We’re not going to shoot our way out of this.”

Minns stopped firing and threw her rifle on the ground.

Grey typed into his comm and waited for help to arrive.

Chapter 37 – Landing

Gorian looked up from her screen. “Grey just commed us. Things are horkin bad out there. Fromer is gone. The others are trapped about three kilometers away. I don’t think that help’s coming.”

Verat sipped his tea. “What do you think Mel’s waiting for in there? The Raven’s just a short jump away.”

Iggy checked the barrel of his rifle. His communicator spoke while he fidgeted with his weapon. “I don’t see her at the shuttle’s helm. She may be running through the pre-drop diagnostics virtually in the back. She’ll be unable to activate the quantum drive until she is in the command center on the Raven. I anticipate we won’t have much time to stop the shuttle once it is in air. We have one opportunity. The shuttle bay is underneath the Raven and thus will be unable to dock the shuttle. Rather, she’ll need to land the shuttle next to the vessel and run into the aft hatch. If we send Banna and Tyrrel there, they may be able to intercept her.”

Verat inhaled. “I can’t believe I’m a fly trapped in this forsaken ointment. I’ll remain here on the comms and with the drones. Gorian, I presume you’ll stay at the shuttle trying to get in?”

“I will. If I can get it open, then Iggy, you, and I will engage Mel and stop her.” Gorian looked down at the gun in her hand. Her mind was with Grey and the others, wondering if they might have a chance in the mist. She imagined confronting Mel in the shuttle. Mel wasn’t defenseless. Fromer and his guard left a considerable number of weapons, including grenades in cargo. The shuttle also was equipped with a light arsenal of external guns for defense. If Mel wanted, she could turn the shuttle toward the camp and begin blasting.

Banna and Tyrrel slung rifles on their shoulders and hooked grenades on their belts. They glanced at the shuttle. No sign of Melat at the helm. They slipped into the gorge leading to the Raven’s resting place. Within about fifteen minutes, they’d be in position to stop Melat.

Gorian resumed her assault on the shuttle’s locks. She tunneled through two security layers and had but one to go. If she could access the HM interface in the shuttle, she would not only be able to open the door, she might be able to persuade the HM to prevent the shuttle from flying and obeying commands from Melat.

Iggy’s unblinking eyes kept watch on the shuttle, while Verat monitored the action on the planet. Drone one was monitoring Fromer. Two was now over the Raven. Three was headed toward Minns, Grey, and Fen. Four was on the other side of the planet and out of communications reach. The planet’s electrical activity was worsening. Their only way to call for help from the Institute was by getting into orbit and sending a message via the recon satellites. Melat controlled all means of their salvation.

Verat was busy watching Grey and company and had not eyed Fromer for a while. He switched the comm to Fromer’s drone. “Oh hell and holy mars,” he muttered. There was no sign of Fromer. The drone was programmed to follow Fromer’s movements. Even if Fromer was torn into pieces like Rhodes, the drone would diligently remain above his remains, like a loyal puppy. Verat widened the drone’s search pattern. It only registered the undulating surface of a shallow lake. He switched from sonar to visual on the drone and was surprised to see a hazy image of the lake, sunshine, and moss-covered boulders. He rubbed his eyes. He saw hundreds of faces in the ripples of the pond. They looked right at him. He sipped his tea — the faces vanished. “Please God, get me off this planet.”

With Fromer missing, Verat decided to program drone one to systematically search the area for any sign of the hybrid. It would notify him whether Fromer was found, dead or alive. He flipped over to drone two. It was still too foggy over the Raven, so he used sonar. Banna and Tyrrel had arrived at the Raven and flanked the vessel’s aft hatch. If the door opened, they’d have a direct shot at Melat and the shuttle. Mel had no chance.

Drone three followed Grey’s network of beacons and arrived over his three crewmates. Two figures — Minns and Grey — were encircled by a solid, swirling mass. It looked like they were perched in the eye of a small hurricane — those storms that occurred on some ocean planets including old earth. Fen was about fifty feet behind them. Two large solid masses stalked him. He was mostly still. But each time he shifted his position, the masses shifted similarly. Beyond the three of them, the area looked clear. Verat typed a note to Grey.

Gorian comm: VERAT TO GREY. DRONE IS OVER YOU. ENTITIES ARE SURROUNDING, ABOUT FOUR FEET THICK WALL. BEYOND THAT, ALL CLEAR. OVER.

Grey comm: WE ARE FINE. STATUS OF MELAT AND OTHERS? OVER.

Verat quickly typed in a synopsis of their status, refraining from his usual rude commentary. Showing even more restraint, he purposely neglected to tell Grey about Fromer’s disappearance.

Gorian generated one more algorithm and felt a pleasant twinge of satisfaction. Before her on the screen was the command menu for the shuttle. If Mel was paying attention, then Gorian had time for one command before Mel interfered. If Mel was still communing with the Raven, then Gorian had more opportunity to gain an upper hand. Gorian entered her security access key and ordered the stern hatch to open. The magnetic lock disengaged and the hatch lowered silently. The gangplank hit the soft ground with a muffled thud. Gorian motioned to Iggy. They raised their rifles on opposite sides of the dimly lit opening. Verat appeared behind them, crouched down, and swiftly entered the shuttle.

As Gorian prepared to follow Verat into the vessel, the gangplank retracted and she fell back. The hatch hissed and slammed shut. Iggy lunged at the door but it was already shut. Verat was trapped in the shuttle with Melat. Gorian ran back to her data interface. But it was completely frozen and smoking. The shuttle’s HM sent a power surge through it as a defensive action. She was not going to have a second chance.

Verat stumbled into the cargo bay and sought shelter behind a bench. Mel appeared from the adjacent chamber and punched the emergency lock panel — a large red button reserved for accidental hatch breaches. When Verat saw her do this, he knew he was on his own. Even Fromer would be unable to respond quickly enough to get through the closure.

Melat exclaimed, “HM. Purge any external access.” At that, the shuttle fried any external connections. Verat realized that Gorian had no chance of bypassing the system now. Melat turned toward the helm, causing the engines to charge up. Within a few minutes, they’d be airborne. He sighed. His bladder was full. Should have refrained from drinking that last cup, he mused.

He stood up and advanced toward Melat, her back turned to him. He lifted his rifle and aimed. A few days ago he was planning a trip to the beach and now he was prepared to empty the contents of his friend’s skull onto the control panel. Well, the term friend may have been a bit exaggerated. But, still, he had no fortitude for violence. How did he get to this point in his life?

Melat cocked her head, causing Verat to hesitate. Verat felt a tingling in his feet and arms. He dropped his rifle and fell in a heap on the floor. Melat turned and smiled. “Why hello Verat. Glad you could join me. I have no tea to offer you.” He could only stare at her, frozen on the floor, muscles twitching. I just walked into a security field, he thought. Dammit.

The shuttle rose gently. Gorian and Iggy watched it hover over them and advance slowly toward the Raven. Iggy lifted his rifle and Gorian shook her head. “No use Iggy. We need one of the ion charge launchers that Grey and Fromer have. Rifles will be useless. The best we can do is run to the Raven. Hopefully, we can provide back up for Banna and Tyrrel.

“What about the drones?” Iggy asked.

“Grey, Minns, and Fen will have to hold tight. I hope Fromer shows up.” Gorian sipped some water, then zipped around a pile of rocks and vanished in the gorge. Iggy was right behind her.

Chapter 38 – Crushes

Banna peered at the sky. Confounded fog. He could see nothing. He shouted, “Tyrrel, what’s your status?”

“Same as before Banna, nothing to report.”

Banna thought about his life before this assignment. Wife, two kids, even a dog. He was born on mars to an unremarkable life, coming from a long line of maintenance staff. They knew every inch of the colonies. The old domes, Fuerst gardens, the amazing mountains, and most importantly, the hidden service tunnels. He was the first of his family in generations to leave the nest — became a soldier, dragging his family to a new planet. Then the pirates came and made him pay for his adventurous spirit. Now, here he was. Family dead, horrid planet, and a crazy woman on her way to send them to hell.

Tyrrel was trying to relax when she saw Banna walking into the fog. She hissed, “Banna, where are you going?”

Banna saw something. It looked an awful bit like his five-year old daughter at the time the attack came. Could it be true, what they were saying about the planet? That the dead were coming back? Maybe this would be his opportunity to tell his girl and the rest of his family how sorry he was. He should’ve been there with them rather than deployed in space. If only he was there, it would have been different.

The girl was smiling, beckoning him to follow. She was wearing her favorite shoes — blue with sparkles and tiny bows. He had to give it a try. Even if it was a hallucination, the mere vision was enthralling. He followed her into the fog. Somewhere in the distance he heard a soft voice. Was someone calling him? His family perhaps?

Tyrrel was concerned now. Banna had evaporated in the fog. The air was vibrating, although she could see nothing. She readied her rifle — the vibration was the tell-tale protestations of molecules in the air — a sure sign of a shuttle descent. Where was Banna? Redundancy was as important to a soldier as it was to engineers like Gorian. With no back up, she was hanging in the wind. She yelled for Banna once more, and the hull of the shuttle appeared in response.

Banna kneeled to touch his daughter’s cheek. He was sobbing. “Amy? Sweetheart?” She was smiling, gazing at his contorted face with sympathy. His hand passed through her face, his fingers feeling impossibly cold. She spoke to him breathlessly. He could decipher her words — join us. The air around him prickled. His inner ears hummed, buzzed, and then burst in excruciating, exquisite pain. Blood coursed down the sides of his head. The last vision of his life was the steely glow of the shuttle hull crushing him into the dirt.

The shuttle landed gently. Tyrrel readied her rifle, lowering her sight directly at the front door of the shuttle. It opened and a silhouette appeared in the hole. She pulled the trigger and her weapon recoiled — the figure dropped before the sound registered in her head. She ran forward and froze. The body on the gangway was not Melat the pilot. Verat Wilcoxin stared blankly into the swirling mist.

Tyrrel kneeled to feel for Verat’s pulse. Nothing. Then she looked down and noticed blood running down her chest. How did so much of his blood end up on me? she thought. Realization washed over her mind even as it began to fade. Melat had ditched the rear hatch and shot Tyrrel in the back. How could I be so stupid? As Tyrrel fell on her side, she saw the jet black hatch of the Raven yawning open and Melat’s red hair swaying into a fading blue mist.

Gorian and Iggy burst into the clearing to see the shuttle perched against the Raven’s enormous backdrop. The shuttle’s gangplank was extended and the Raven was shut tight as a corked bottle. Gorian called, “Banna, Tyrrel. All clear?”

No answer. Only the Raven’s vents answered with a distraught hiss of vapor.

“Ig, this can’t be good.”

Iggy was physically incapable of frowning. But his-her slackened face showed deep concern.

They scrambled to the shuttle and found the lifeless bodies of Tyrell and Verat. Verat’s hands were bound with cable and his mouth was taped. Banna was nowhere to be found.

Gorian rushed into the shuttle and checked the logs. The shuttle had landed ten minutes ago. She did the math. Drop preparation was a time-consuming process. It would take additional time to shut down all the safeties. After all, no self-respecting engineer would want a ship in dry dock to drop into infraspace accidently and destroy an entire planet.

Melat was in the vessel trying to convince the HM to allow a drop to occur on a charted world. Gorian imagined the conversation. Are you certain Ms. Melat that you want to override safety protocol 5050? Yes, HM. Do you realize that this will cause a catastrophic singularity in this system? Yes, HM. I authorize it via voice command. Ms. Melat, a voice command will require you to provide a biometric scan. Do you wish to proceed? And so on. Gorian would’ve smiled if it all wasn’t so damn tragic. Verat, dear ass, Verat. Dead on the gangplank. And likely shot by one of us. His mouth was taped shut so he couldn’t make a sardonic comment as he drew his last breath.

Her calculation was complete: Melat needed 30 minutes to initiate the quantum drive.

“Iggy, jump on board. We’ve to get out of here, now.”

Chapter 39 – Flight

Minns and Grey were miserable, sitting in the muck, orbited by a frenzy of hands and snakes. The air was sodden with thick organic haze. They gagged on each breath as the organic suspension in the air condensed in their mouths and lungs creating a dense, mucilaginous sludge. Fen wasn’t faring well. His thick coughs rolled through the fog, arriving in irregular intervals. Their muscles tensed as they anticipated the next tide of hacking.

Grey sighed to himself. “How’d we end up here?”

Minn’s face reddened. “We? Are you kidding? I should shoot you right now. Or maybe I should force you to walk into that wall of death. If we escape this, I’m quitting. They don’t pay me enough to put up with this crap.”

“How is this my fault?” Grey slouched back on his pack. “My father was a great, brilliant man. This is pure evil. Corruption. I have no idea what happened here, but this wasn’t his intent. If I had to gather what happened, he likely created some defense mechanism in the life he planted here — to protect the organisms from tampering. Maybe he gave the creatures the ability to retreat from a threat — a vague intelligence, an ability to communicate. This benign response evolved into something else. I wonder if something on the plateau—” He stopped.

Minns turned to him, “Did something dead manipulate all this? Are you telling me that what we were seeing up there were really dead sentients? And are there demons and angels there too? Did the devil escape on the planet?”

“By mars, I don’t know. Maybe something like that. Do you remember Pinchot Ferris from grade school history, the one who died a recluse? My perspective’s changed. I don’t think she went crazy. My dad thought she was onto something. He believed and I now agree that Ferris discovered a window to an alternate reality and it has something to do with the emergence of life.”

Minns laughed shrilly.

“Seriously. Here’s my hypothesis. Life acts like a powerful quantum drive. It punches a hole in the very fabric of space-time. Perhaps, when we die, a little bit of the coherent energy we produce as living beings sinks down through that hole. Life after death. Water down the drain. Maybe there’s a heaven and hell of sorts. Beyond all of, this.”

Minns sipped some water and wiped her mouth. “This is completely trippy. What you’re saying is that this planet is the equivalent of a giant quantum drive to the afterlife?”

“Yeah, I think so. In a sense, this planet opens a doorway to another universe or something outside of our realm of existence. Who knows? I suspect it’s related to infraspace. Neither Ferris nor dad anticipated that other things, beings might be there. When dad opened the door, he let the dead walk, but also provided an opportunity for other — things — to emerge. Whatever has escaped into our reality has warped the life on this planet. Hence, our dilemma.” He pointed at the undulated wall before them.

“If life’s the doorway, then why hasn’t this emerged on other worlds?”

Grey vaguely felt that he had this conversation before. “Well, let’s see. This planet harbors life on hyperspeed. Dad selected strains of bacteria and plants that mixed with the electrical activity of Nine to intensify the effect. He learned this from Ferris’ writings. Other planets with life are far less likely to generate a big, gaping hole in the fabric of space-time.”

He sat quietly for a moment, deep in thought. His eyes lit up. “But, think about it. Every sentient species we know has a cultural memory of spiritual entities. On old earth in ancient days, gods, fairies, elves, you name it, walked among humans. All of us abandoned these ideas as we developed science and technology. But with technological advances, all of our species trampled the life on our planets into submission. I mean, earth was a complete shithole before the fall happened.”

Minns felt strangely calm. “As we turned down the dimmer on our environments, we lost our spiritual connection.”

Grey sighed. “Exactly. And what we have here is a spiritual connection gone out of control. Humans, even brilliant ones like dad, always mess things up. We just fail every time we dabble.”

They sat in silence watching the maelstrom before them.

It was during this strangely peaceful moment that Fen began screaming.

“Uncle Fen, what’s wrong?” Grey yelled.

The screaming drained into a low moan.

“We’ve to get to him,” Grey fired into the beings. Each curled hand dropped onto the ground, dissolving into the mud. The wall thinned and Grey advanced. Minns fired beside him and a small hole appeared.

Grey shouted to Minns, “Keep firing until I give you a heads up. I’m jumping through.”

“You’re completely insane. Let me know when you’re ready.”

They fired for another minute. Grey looked over at Minns, nodded, and said, “Here I go.”

She stopped firing and Grey dove for the hole. He cleared it with ease and ran toward his uncle. Fen was alone, curled on his side in a pile of dirt. Whatever beings held him captive were gone. Grey looked behind him. The hands continued swarming around Minns, seemingly unaware that he had escaped. Fen was conscious but clearly in pain. Grey kneeled down.

“Uncle Fen, what happened?”

“They fell down on me. I thought it was over. But then he — Fromer — appeared and they vanished back into the soil.”

“Fromer? Where is he then?”

“I don’t know. I’m so cold, Grey”

“You’re in shock. Hang in there.”

“Fen, I have more to tell you. Your father. Some of us in the Institute knew, understood, what he was trying to accomplish. This wasn’t popular with all of the Family members. In fact, there was a move early on to stop this project from proceeding. But your father had some very powerful allies, descendants of the Fuersts.”

Grey closed his eyes. “Verat’s family?”

“Yes, they were among his most vocal supporters. Verat was assigned to you by us.”

“What do you mean? I requested that he be stationed on the Platform.”

“Verat is your friend. But do you honestly think he’d willingly take this assignment as a favor to you? Be honest with yourself. Verat was providing us with unambiguous information. Some of the Institute leaders to whom you reported couldn’t be trusted to provide us with the entire truth.” Fen winced.

“Uncle, why would people resist the opportunity to link life and death in the universe?”

Fen was still for a bit, gathering his energy. “Grey, it’s more complex than that. Planets like these are a great potential source of power. Imagine the ability to travel anywhere in the universe — not just the galaxy like we do now — by visiting these places. For that matter, perhaps we can explore other universes, other times, other lives. There’s limitless untapped potential. We all have a spark of this in us. Some call it a soul or spirit. It’s a mere fact of life. This planet captures that energy. And it makes it a technological achievement like no other.”

Grey found himself feeling off center. “Wow. This is outrageous. Is this why we almost died on the Platform and the Raven? Was someone trying to stop us?”

“Correct. And I guess that the ruling faction of the Collective wants to destroy the planet now and dispense of the risk once and for all.”

“Uncle Fen, you know I love you and I hold dad’s legacy near to my heart. But I’m not quite sure that I disagree with the leadership. I’m unsure whether the trillions of us can handle the responsibility. Look at what happened to old earth. We can’t return to our own homeworld because of uncontrolled power unleashed by evil people. This — this place — could cause a catastrophe of galactic scale.”

“Your father and I debated this for a decade. I agree with you. Your father, however, believed that if the planet was held in the right hands, it could be used for research and enlightenment. Ultimately, it would ease the burden of our crowded worlds. Instead of the limited worlds we have at our disposal, we’d have galaxies to fill. We could spread out and never overpopulate and overuse again.”

“Ah, you young naïve boys.” Grey patted his uncle on the shoulder. “Hang on. Help will be here soon, I hope.”

Grey jogged back toward the monsters surrounding Minns. “Minns, start shooting toward my voice. I’ll shoot in the same area. Maybe we can clear a hole for you.”

Sounds of charges emerged from within the undulating mass. Grey aimed and fired with Fen’s powerful concussion rifle. The hands gathered before him. Instead of thinning, they braided and rose up, far above his head. Large, gnarled fingers reached out to grab him from the top. I am going to be pulled apart like Rhodes, he thought. He crouched and fired haphazardly over his head. The fingers darted toward him, their nails dripping with thick moisture from the fog. He could feel the sharp pressure of a fingernail on the top of his skull when a large mass hit him sideways. He tumbled to the ground to see an impossibly fast, glowing creature slashing at the base of the monster.

Fromer.

Minns appeared next to Fromer, her rifle blazing. Within a few seconds, the monster had retreated into the brown haze. Fromer turned to smile at them and then dashed away.

“What happened to Fromer?” Minns was astonished. “He was so fast. He seemed bigger. And did you see that glow? It’s like someone charged his battery. Something happened to him back there.”

“I think he’s dead,” Fen replied serenely.

Chapter 40 – Sleep

In the emerald haze, Melat communed with her first love, the Raven. Like all relationships, the conversation was about give and take. In this case, she was trying to convince the vessel to give her a very special gift. But to get there, it would take some sweet talking. The Raven was unsure about her idea. She was persuasive and would eventually get her way with a little patience and tenacity.

Melat looked at her scabbed and bruised hands. They seemed so fragile and thin. It amazed her that this would be the last time that she would look upon them. In a short while, she’d be free of her physical form, existing in the boundless void. This wasn’t suicide. She wouldn’t die. Rather, she would be so very much alive. She’d hold the threads of existence in her hands. She giggled. Silly, I won’t have hands anymore — unless I imagine them.

She had one more hurdle to jump and then the drop sequence would commence. The quantum drive began thrumming below her feet. She settled in the command chair and looked at the view screen. The outline of the shuttle was there in the haze. How she hated this planet. In fact, she hated all of existence. So, cold and hard. The only thing bearable was Fromer — his smile and wisdom. Yet, he was inaccessible. Another cruelty of this reality. It was time to banish all of this.

As she scanned through the diagnostics menu, she noticed the shuttle lurching to life beyond the Raven. “Well, good for them. God speed to you,” she whispered. She genuinely felt for the survivors but doubted they’d clear the planet before it collapsed. She unlocked the final failsafe. It was time to launch.

She rested her arm on the chair. The needle expertly pierced her skin and began transforming her circulatory and nervous systems into an extension of the Raven. She settled lightly in a small field on her homeworld — new earth they called it. It was so similar to earth that most earth plants and animals were able to thrive there. One of her favorite flowers was the common dandelion. It amazed her how the flower would be full and yellow one day and the next morning it transformed into a fuzzy globe of white. She liked to think this was her. In this reality she was Melat. In the pilot’s chair, she transformed, floating hither and thither, wherever the breeze might take her.

She blew on the seeds and the quantum drive began its cascade. Even a direct blast to the Raven’s hull would be unable to stop her now. She wandered in the darkness, tiny emerald lights surrounding her. This light went to navigation, this one to electrical, and this one to the engines. She tunneled through the incandescent pathway to the quantum drive. There she gazed at the fabric of the universe boiling below her — a fortune teller before her beloved crystal ball. Swirls of brown mixed with brilliant white. She could see the center of the planet from her lofty vantage.

“Hello Melat.”

The voice was familiar. How was it possible to speak in this place?

“Melat, my darling, you’re about to get your wish.”

She turned. How could she turn? She didn’t have a body. In the void stood Fromer. He was strange to her. His features were transformed. The human and zenat qualities no longer competed for attention. Rather, they melded flawlessly. He was no longer a living contradiction but an extension of life itself. Joy seemed to radiate from him.

He laughed freely, openly. The sound was an open ocean inviting her to step in. She muttered in her own impossible voice, “Fromer, how are you here?”

“An old friend showed me the light. All I had to do was jump in.” He smiled, putting his hands together as if he was going to dive. “In a sense, you’re taking the plunge as well. Where you’re going is complete freedom. You can choose it for selfish purposes. Or you may embrace it and find your salvation. It’s your choice no matter where you go. That’s the whole point of it. Freedom.”

“Fromer, I like the cryptic connotations as much as the next girl. But I’m busy annihilating a planet and blasting myself across all of space-time. What on earth are you doing here? Or am I hallucinating?”

Fromer took her hand. “All I’m here to do is convey that no matter what form we take or where we go, we are imbued with self-will. You’ll have to choose your path. It is the beauty of life.”

“That still doesn’t help me.”

“I doubt if the being you met during those missing moments on the Raven — recall when you reversed time and wandered with it — gave you a choice. Taking the Raven permanently into infraspace was your only option, it said. The creature offered you eternal peace in return. Well, it succeeded in getting you to follow him but the reward won’t be waiting for you. You’ll still find yourself at a crossroads. Perhaps not at first, but it will come. The answer is in your soul.”

She laughed. “Actually, I made the choice myself. I needed to get away from my life. Living means nothing to me. I made the decision years ago. It was you who helped push me along.”

Fromer frowned, looking sadly at Melat. “Life’s everything, not nothing. I’ll see you again soon. Until then, enjoy the ride.” He released her hand, turned and walked into a glowing portal. It dimmed and he was gone.

She felt the Raven jolt forward and the drop began. With no destination, it would never stop dropping. In that void, Melat had an eternity to consider Fromer’s words.

Chapter 41 – Nevermore

Iggy manned the helm while Gorian frantically tried to locate their stranded crewmates. They marveled as an immense power fluctuation appeared on the shuttle’s sensors — a clear sign that the Raven’s quantum drive powered up. They remained silent and stared at their consoles. In fact, Gorian was unsure whether Iggy’s communication interface was working properly. His speaker crackled occasionally, but he uttered no words while they searched the flat, infuriatingly foggy plain where the crew was last contacted.

“Ig, I see something at these coordinates. Let’s head there.”

He banked the shuttle and shot the vessel toward the location — a small valley cropped by scrawny shrubs. Gorian scanned the bottom. No sign of humanoids.

“Dead end, Ig. Let’s increase altitude and hover.” She paused and smacked her forehead. “Wait. I completely forgot about the drones. Verat was holding drone three stationary above them. It should be able to tell us exactly where they are.”

She linked into the tech center back at camp and within seconds the coordinates streamed to her. “Iggy, get going. We have no time.”

The shuttle sped forward and within moments they could see three specks in the haze. Iggy dropped the vessel steeply and landed silently next to Grey, Minns, and Fen. The hatched opened, Fen was tucked into an emergency capsule, and they rushed up the gangplank. The shuttle door closed behind them and the ship lifted with a slight whoosh.

They ascended nearly vertically when the gravity sensor began flashing. The shuttle shuddered and decelerated.

Gorian groaned. “The planet’s gravity is jumping. The Raven must be dropping. Iggy, our only option is to fire the ion thrusters now. They might give us enough velocity to escape. This is going to hurt.”

Iggy flipped a switch and the shuttle lurched. Minns and Grey fell back onto the floor. Gorian held on to her chair. The acceleration pulled their skin back. Gorian’s head felt like it would split open.

The haze thinned and stars appeared. “We aren’t clear yet. Iggy, is there any juice left in the thrusters?”

He nodded slightly, pressed a button, and they were in open space.

The rear view screen activated. Nine had faded at its center, as if a dark storm appeared on its milky brown surface. The clouds began swirling clockwise around the spot. Flashes of light appeared all over.

“The lights — that’s the friction of the air as it is pulled down into the singularity,” Gorian muttered.

On the surface, boulders, lakes, entire hillsides were blowing through the sky. Within the collapsing debris, a small plaque swirled toward the rift. An inscription on it said:

Planet C9: Dedicated to my son Grey Ferris Commons and the founders of the Terra Institute. May you find your dreams here.

From the shuttle, the crew watched in fascinated horror as the planet faded. It thinned into a waxy haze — stars were visible behind it. And then it was gone. It had taken less than fifteen minutes for a planet to be sucked out of existence.

“What happened to everyone else?” Grey asked.

Gorian walked up and hugged him. “I’m sorry about Verat.”

Minns stared blankly at the viewscreen.

They slept. The shuttle exhausted its power reserves to escape Nine and was now only able to provide heat and recycled air. They had to accept Grey’s assurance that help would come when the Platform staff realized that contact with them ceased and that Nine was lost.

Without the vanished planet to anchor them in space, they drifted toward the local sun. As they fell toward the star, it would become more difficult for searching ships to find them. The shuttle generated very little power and would be barely discernable against the backdrop of radiation in space. The mood turned from concern to dark gloom.

Fen clearly needed medical help that was unavailable on the vessel. Minns slept constantly, rolled in a compact ball on her cot. Gorian attempted to devise a makeshift beacon, without much luck. Tools and parts were scarce on the shuttle. Most of the supplies were sucked down along with the planet. Grey stared out the window thinking of his father and Verat. Gorian occasionally exchanged worried looks with Grey, but they seldom spoke. Iggy slipped into another dormant state. He hadn’t conversed since the previous day. Gorian kept Iggy’s spray bottle full for him.

Provisions were not a concern in the short term. The shuttle was loaded with food and water for a much larger crew. When not sleeping, the crew picked at an array of compact, condensed food and drinks. Grey adopted a guilty fondness for the grey slime that Iggy called nourishment. Next to the notion of surviving perpetual isolation until they burned in the star’s corona, their primary problem was boredom. Shuttles were meant for trips of short duration, so entertainment was not a critical feature. Gorian had brought a data tablet with music and a few games. Fen, Gorian, and Grey hoarded their time on the gadget. Even Minns took an occasional turn. Fen looked frail but his spirits were loftier than those of his companions. Gorian and Grey appreciated his good humor. Minns could care less.

A week passed with no sign of rescue. Gorian occasionally scanned the infraspace receiver. However, she could do no better than the computer, which found nothing out but static in space during its endless scans. Iggy stirred. Given the monotony, this was a moment of great interest among his crewmates. He rose and walked to the cargo area. A few moments he returned with a tube of viscous liquid and said over his crackling speaker, “Who has been eating my food?”

Fen and Gorian smiled and pointed at Grey. Grey shrugged. “What? I like the texture. There’s plenty to go around, especially if Iggy keeps going dormant.”

Another day passed. Grey found Gorian in the cargo hold crying. He sat down next to her and rubbed the stubble on his face. “G, I’m so sorry it came to this. You know, I was hoping that after all this, we could maybe take a trip together.”

She grabbed his hand and held it tight. “We’re going to make it.”

“Was that a question or a statement? We’ll make it. To go through all that on the planet — we owe Verat and the others that much. Perhaps we already had our trip. What a vacation.”

“Why haven’t we seen a sign of rescue yet?” She pulled on her hair.

“Well, Fen pointed out that there are some in the Institute that would like to have seen Nine vanish. If we know too much, they might find it convenient to let us disappear as well. However, Fen assured me that there are others in the leadership that support us. They promised him that they’d find us if anything went wrong.”

“Where are they?”

“I think it may be difficult for them to rescue us without tipping the others off. We just need to be patient. Keep faithful, hope is the only thing we have. At least we can grow fat and old in this box.”

“Engineers aren’t fans of faith. We like certainty. And I know that we are falling into the star. So, I’ll let you hope for both of us.”

“You need to convert to science. We aren’t afraid of a little uncertainty. How else are you going to discover new bits of knowledge?” He smiled a little and kissed her cheek. He headed back to the communications station at the helm.

Minns lifted from her funk. She was eating something that looked like creamed corn and sitting at the navigation panel.

“Welcome back,” Grey said quietly.

Minns’ face suddenly brightened.

“That’s not for me, is it?” Grey asked.

Minns pointed at the screen, mumbling with her full mouth. A large object appeared about 100 kilometers below them. They magnified the image. It was a vast intergalactic transport with the name Fuerst in silver letters stenciled on its port bow.

The transmitter clicked. “This is Etch, pilot of the vessel Fuerst. Raven shuttle, do you require assistance?”

Chapter 42 – Fuerst

Etch welcomed his guests on the Fuerst with a bottle of his finest wine. Being full zenat, he didn’t drink, but realized that the crew would appreciate the token. Fen managed to sit up and join them as they sat around a table in the ship’s galley, describing the events that happened.

“Etch, who sent you?” Grey asked.

“Friends in the Collective told me that you were in need. I am glad you survived. You are truly a remarkable team.”

At that instance, Grey realized that it was a collaborative effort that allowed them to escape. These were his friends. However, they had lost so many. “Etch, I know that you were a colleague of Fromer. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Etch chuckled in a raspy baritone. “Fromer is not lost my friends. I talked with him just a few hours ago.”

They exchanged confused glances. Grey spoke. “You must be mistaken. The last time we saw Fromer on the planet, he was saving us from the creatures. We assumed that he ran to the Raven but didn’t make it there before the ship dropped and the planet collapsed.”

Etch cleared his spiracles with a hiss. “Fromer is neither here nor there. He is no longer bound by what you consider reality. In a way, he is like a pilot but does not need a quantum drive and a ship. This is a very good thing, do you not think?” He was greeted by blank and baffled looks.

“I see confusion in your faces — even the nauron looks perplexed with those enormous round eyes.” He laughed heartily and took a bite of something resembling sirloin. “By now you all have deducted the true purpose of the planet, no? Great power. But it went horribly wrong. Fromer found the good wandering the surface. He followed this force and jumped in before the portal receded. When he did that, he entered a realm that is not bound by the rules of the universe. He can occupy this existence — our universe — and many others. He is free to roam. A pilot’s dream.” He sighed through the holes in his belly.

Minns sipped her wine. She was feeling more fortified with each glass. “You said you just saw him. Did he just appear before you? Like a ghost?”

“Oh no. I talked with him while I was dropping to the former location of C9. He is able to move freely in what we call infraspace. He intercepted the Fuerst and told me where you were. I was surprised at first. But I have been piloting for more than a century — my surprise quickly transformed into understanding, to the best of my ability. How envious I am of him. I have to wait until death. And even then, I will never experience his freedom. Death has its limitations. He has escaped those shackles.”

Minns was feeling very good, the alcohol humming in her veins. “So, where’d he go after the drop was finished?”

“He was not clear about this. He mentioned that his mission was just beginning. That C9 was a noble effort but not the right vision for this universe. It was creation corrupted by malice. We sentients are not meant to dabble in these things. He was going to start a new path. And then he was gone and I had to rescue you.” He took another bite of meat — some poor beast that once roamed on the zenat home planet — and closed his eyes in contentment. “Enough talk for now. We need to rest in preparation for the broad and long road ahead.”

“I’m sure the Institute will want a full briefing when we return to the Platform.” Grey sighed at the thought of the paperwork and long conferences.

“You cannot return to the Platform or to the Institute. To them, you all died during the accident on Nine. The official story will be that Melat went insane and used the Raven to destroy the planet.”

“Well, yup, that’s pretty much what happened,” Minns exclaimed.

Etch finished. “And all hands were lost. You were destroyed in the gravitational collapse.”

Realization settled on all of them.

“Then what will become of us?” Gorian asked.

Fen coughed and finished his glass. “Etch, I’d better handle it from here.”

Chapter 43 – Earth

Amy Marksman was born a chubby, bawling baby in a small cottage in the mountains facing the great ocean. Her village was small, populated by only a few hundred people or so. The villagers were mostly merchants, trading with the ocean dwellers to the west and the plains people to the east. Her father was the town blacksmith. He’d travel to the ancient, ruined cities to the north, bringing back carts full of rusted iron and other metals. He could forge just about any tool or device in his shop. His guilty pleasure was crafting blades. Many lawkeepers and hunters would travel long distances to buy or barter his wares.

When she wasn’t engulfed in the smoke and heat of her father’s shop, Amy’s world was pine trees and songbirds. Salt air would drift in during the evening; she’d spend many evenings sitting on the porch, dreaming about ships and far-away places. But traveling the world was not in her stars. She was the village’s prime gardener. Her mother, grandmother, and generations of female ancestors before these women had the same gift as she. Every spring they would conjure berries and vegetables from the rocky dirt. They had a sense of the seasons and the soil, knowing what amendments and additives were needed — when to make the land work and when to let it rest. The village eagerly awaited the rewards of their labor. The best children in the town became her apprentices. A considerable army of assistants was at her disposal.

Since she was a young girl she saw the tiny creatures in the forest beyond the farm fields. They glowed lightly, like little candle flames, always retreating into the dark trees when she approached. She spoke to them often. They only responded in giggles or silence. Of course, Amy wasn’t the first or the only one to see others in the forest. As the world healed after the ancient ones left, the spirits returned. Gods walked among them, swam in the oceans, and commanded the skies. However, rarely did the spirits pay mere humans heed. Amy was lucky to have the little ones there, watching her fields and protecting her when she was alone.

One clear night, Amy sat with her father admiring the stars and the moon. The white orb was dotted with lights that shined brightly even when its surface was clearly in shadow. Many stories existed about the origin of the tiny flickering moonlights. Some old timers said they were fireflies; others believed they were jewels. Her favorite explanation was that they were the houselights of the ancient ones, still living on the moon. But if the ancients were there, why did they never return? Did they orbit the earth revering, worshipping it? Did they fear the gods on its surface?

Her father told her stories of his childhood — hunting, exploring, his time sailing the sea. He told her that he would miss these times together. She was engaged to marry after the fall harvest. Soon she’d be busy raising a family as well as the fields. Hopefully, a daughter would arrive to learn her trade. No more time for these moments with her father. The crickets sang harmonies and the bats fluttered. And then the strange man arrived.

In the dark shadow of the barn, a large figure, taller than any man they had ever seen, appeared. He glowed lightly like the little people in the forest. It was cold, but no cloud of breath appeared from his mouth. Steam curled from his vest. His eyes were deep and coal black — the moonlights sparkled in them like crystals. Behind him appeared six tiny creatures — the same ones that flirted with Amy during her entire life. Her father grabbed her hand. She could feel the calluses and muscle, the warmth of creation in his pulse.

They both stood. Horses whinnied and the dog barked.

The glowing man raised his hand and smiled. “Hello, my friends. I’m Fromer. Your little guardians here told me to visit you. I have wonderful things to show you. Together we’ll travel further than you ever imagined. And some day, many will follow. But before I explain further, do you have any strong tea?”

After an eternity, Amy’s father stirred and nodded. She turned toward the kitchen and prepared the fire in the stove to boil some water. Fromer smiled and sat on the stump of a dead willow tree. It was time for him to embrace his destiny. He was home at last.

BOOK 2: ENDS

Chapter 44 – Amy

The village teacher sits by the fire, yapping as usual. She’s too close. If an ember goes flying, she’ll get burned. She rises, her gnarled hands waving as the story she tells reaches its climax. Her multi-colored robes spin and twirl, while her long, grey hair bobs. The crowd’s pleased with the drama, shouting and clapping. A bottle breaks in the distance. I yawn.

I’ve endured Teacher’s tall stories since I was a little girl. According to her and generations of teachers before her, the world used to belong to the ancient ones who left one day. That part’s true, I think. Someone was here before us and they made a colossal mess of things. Their trash is strewn everywhere, buried right under the surface. When I work the earth for planting I’m always finding trinkets of the past. Some I recognize — coins, buttons, bones, and lots of glass. Most things are mysteries. They served some purpose to those people, but the little boxes with symbols and shiny things with knobs mean nothing. All of us villagers throw the detritus in a pile at the outskirts of town in honor of the ones who were here before us. The mound’s huge, taller than three men, and wide as a field. Some townspeople treat it as a shrine. Maybe someday the old ones will return for their tools in that moldering heap.

The teacher links us to the past — for that I’m grateful. But my skepticism grows the further she goes back. Most towns have a few teachers that pass the stories across generations, with the flavor of the tales being as diverse and unique as the plants on the ground. From the towns I’ve visited, I’ve picked up some common themes, but the adornments and embellishments are sweeping. They do provide entertainment, helping us traverse the time at night when the darkness settles and I swear the shadows are moving out there. Crouching, with wild eyes, the teacher describes how the world formed from the void. Darkness was separated from light by the gods or the ancient ones or someone. This is where I begin to doubt just about everything we know. I’ve met only one god. And once I got to know him, he didn’t seem very godlike to me. And then there are the little ones in the forest who have flirted with me my entire life. They certainly aren’t gods. They can’t even talk.

Teacher’s stories get more interesting when she reaches the part about the demise of the ancient ones. No matter how fantastic her depiction, it’s obvious the end had to be horrific. I’ve never been to the ruins of the cities. Mostly the men, including my father and husband Wenn, have traveled to them. A few of our women are strong, wily, and perhaps daft enough to join the boys on their expeditions. When our explorers and scavengers reach the ruins, they find twisted metal jutting out from brambles and woodlots. Mountains of rock carved into strange shapes and sizes are covered by thin soil and sparse trees. Our explorers scavenge for materials to fabricate into tools and weapons. They occasionally find trinkets that fetch a good price on the market. Some traveler visiting our town is always willing to trade a chicken, smoked fish, or occasionally something special like a horse or a sword for the rings of shiny metal or the extraordinarily hard, clear rocks that father brings back in his satchel — a worn, scarred leather bag that mom made for him. He treasures that thing. When father or Wenn drink too much shine, they talk about the bones. Piles of them are scattered everywhere. Teacher says that the ancient ones were punished by the gods for trying to emulate the gods’ power. If there really are gods, they were obviously not happy with their subjects, given the destruction and death they left behind.

According to Teacher, the ancient ones were grasping for the gods’ powers. Our predecessors, if they were people, could fly through the air, mingle with the stars, and travel to the future and the past. I try to imagine my fellow villagers hovering over town, taking a trip to see their great-grandparents. If Teacher is right about this, then I wonder why my ancestors haven’t visited me yet. Another fantastic story is that the city dwellers could make fire without heat and conjure images in the empty air. Teacher’s eyes always grow wide and dark when she describes the powers these people had. Her hands contort into flying fists when she describes how they’d throw fire and light to immolate their enemies. She crinkles her forehead nodding forward when she says that, with a thought, entire cities would crumble. That’s where I begin to wonder whether the destruction was caused by gods. It seems to me that the wise, ancient ones may have done it to themselves.

It is a full moon tonight, making it tough to see the thousands of yellow and blue lights on its surface. Teacher says that the lights are the settlements — the windows of the houses — of the ancient ones. After these people were banished by the gods, they moved to the moon and to this day are forced to gaze greedily at the earth from their distant perch. When the moon is in shadow, the lights twinkle much brighter than the stars and are beautiful to watch. The moonlights change all the time. Sometimes they move off the surface into the inky darkness like shooting stars, except they streak across the sky and vanish, growing fainter rather than brighter. I’ve no idea about the true nature of these lights. But if the ancient ones are on the moon and still able to move in the void, I wonder why they never try to return. If the gods are keeping them from visiting us, wouldn’t we see them fighting in the sky?

I ponder how these people provided themselves with food and water. From the size of their cities and the fact that you can’t throw a stone without finding some evidence of their touch on the land, there must have been a lot of people here. I’m a garden tender and responsible for providing sustenance for my town. This means making sure that the land provides during all times, including droughts and floods. To meet their needs, Teacher claims that the ancient ones had vast temples that produced all the water and food they needed. I find this story more fantastic than any other. Food comes from the land and occasionally the lakes, streams, and sea. Water’s in the ground and needs constant coaxing during the dry times. I can’t see how some faceless gods would dump food and water into a big building where priests would hand portions out to the masses. Sustenance takes work and knowledge — a special relationship with the earth. If people were taking their food for granted, perhaps the gods were punishing them for laziness. Or maybe there were too simply too many of them and they killed each other fighting over the last dregs of goodness the earth could give them.

“Amy, darling. Where are you now?” Teacher’s eyes are fixed on me, looking a bit worn with perhaps a hint of annoyance. I have no idea where in the story she’s landed. She’s talking again. “Amy, it’s now time for you to tell us about the harvest.”

I stand up. Public speaking is not my talent. She’s expecting some wild story about harvests past and perhaps a short history of my family. Well, I’m not in the mood for jabbering. I mutter, “If you mean what we’re doing now — harvest is going well.” I smile weakly at the couple of dozen field workers who sit together near the fire. “My students are a great crop. We have completed the third rending and are putting the rewards to storage. We’ll eat well this winter.” I sit back and let my thoughts wash back into my mind. Teacher begins rambling on about my friend Theo’s great-grandfather and how this great man fought the sea villagers and defended our town many years ago. Again, these are stories I’ve heard in some fashion or another for years.

The fire still burns brightly. The young ones are being shuffled to their beds by exhausted parents. The older villagers, people I’ve known and mostly loved my entire life, conjure earthen jugs of shine and apple wine. Time to celebrate the shorter days and brighten the night. The shadows retreat. I look over at Wenn, who’s chatting with my father. They are too preoccupied to notice me retreating into the darkness of the village meeting hall. I’m so very tired from the harvest. We have so much more to do before we can face the winter. Even during the cold, dark times, we work, sharpening the tools, mending the carts, repairing the fences, and feeding the animals.

The village hall is a brown, stone building with strange runes etched deeply on the front. I can read some of the ancient language, taught to me by my mother. The first word means town, with its combination of curved and straight lines. The second word, if that is what it is, is a mystery to all of us. The first letter looks like a chair — I suspect the word means seat or something like that. Village lore holds that this was a place of governance and meeting. The building predates any of us, left by the founders. It was already quite old when the ancient ones left earth. The glass of most of windows has been replaced many times. But there is one set of panes, near the ceiling, made of colored glass that dates back before any memory in town. I love gazing at its scene of a fall harvest, a man in blue leggings and a simple white shirt stands next to freshly hewn grain.

The building interior flickers through the dusty windows with the orange fingers of firelight outside. I relish the smell of wood, shine, dust, and history in the great room. This is where the village leaders meet and the great decisions come to light. Marriages, family agreements, and assignments are made here. This is where I was appointed the keeper of the gardens after my mother went away. The leaders are chosen by a combination of age and experience. We record our history in large books and the elders are the most familiar with both the written accounts as well as the oral tradition. My father will soon join them and often boasts how he’ll improve our lot in life. I sigh at the thought. Our lot doesn’t need a boost. We’re just fine.

“Hi Sprouter.” A voice in the back of the room startles me. Theo’s lurking in the shadows. I know by his tenor that he is smiling, pleased with himself that I jumped.

“Theo. Hell. You scared the spit out of me. What are you doing sitting here in the dark? Shouldn’t you be drinking shine by the fire? There are plenty of young ladies who are looking for you.”

“Not feeling like a little warm village girl tonight. And I’ve had enough shine already. I figured you’d wander in here sooner or later. Heck, woman, I’ve known you since we were crawling around in the dirt. You come here every night during the harvest — been doing that as long as I can remember. Even before you were keeper, you loved this place.” He eyes the little panes of colored glass, the green and blue reflecting in his pupils.

“I’m unsure whether I should be flattered that you noticed or a little disturbed.”

“I could ask you why you aren’t with Wenn, your burly man.”

“Wenn’s busy with father talking shop. I’m bone tired. I just need time alone. With an emphasis on alone, Theo. So, I kindly ask you to give me some space tonight.”

Theo jumps up on the heavy oak table, a typical sign of his lack of deference for authority. He’s so indignant. Yet it’s a façade. He wants to lead someday. And I think he will be a great elder for the village. He just needs to see his path through the fog of youth.

“See you later Sprouter.” Theo shrugs and heads for the wide double doors. Then he’s gone into the yellow glow of the night.

Theo and Wenn are the best of friends. Since we all were children playing chase the rabbit and sitting on our parent’s laps, Wenn and Theo have loved each other like brothers. They communicate without speaking. Both are dark and strong — physically similar. But their eyes are so very different. Theo has eyes of the ocean, blue and grey with flecks of emerald. Wenn’s eyes are like the coals of a dying fire. Frankly, if it came between choosing Theo and me, I wonder whether Wenn might pick Theo. I clear my mind in that quiet and timeless room and forget about them. The darkness winds around me and I find peace.

“Amy. Amy sweetpea. Wake up.” Wenn’s thick baritone pulls me from slumber. I wonder how long I’ve been out. My feet are ice and the orange glow is gone. My mouth’s fused into a pasty mess.

“Hi,” I groan. Wenn puts his hand on my shoulder and helps me up. We walk toward the doors. Wenn is full of shine and is a little shaky but so very warm. I’m thankful for him.

Chapter 45 – Little Green Men

Daybreak arrives much too early. I wrap myself in my worn, green wool coat and head to the gardens. My students and the junior caretakers are arriving. They are all my age or younger, with strong backs and ample energy. Older folks move to easier, often more skillful jobs, with the benefit of starting work later in the day. I will never have that luxury, no matter how old I get. We’ve much to do and little time left before the first frost. The gardens were tended by my mother before me and so on, back through time, presumably when those bones in the ruined cities still wore flesh. It’s my responsibility, burden really, to ensure that the seeds are gathered and sown at the correct times. I can feel the seasons changing, gage the thirst of the soil, and smell the health of the earth. Earthworms and grubs talk to me in a language far more languid and understandable than that scribbled on the ancient walls of the village hall. Much of this is learned but some of it is passed inexplicably among the women of my family. This is my magic.

The gardens are vast and diverse. Each plot is divided into different crops that are tended on specific cycles. Some areas are rotated regularly to control for blights and bugs. Other places, such as those with the apple trees and the grapes, have been tended and fed for centuries. Entwined among the plots are spots of wild forest, which provide windbreaks and keep pests from easily jumping among plots. Within the forests are many birds and other creatures that tend to the gardens, eating the insects and fertilizing the ground with their droppings. It’s a wondrous, dynamic place, providing us with ample food and the means by which we trade with the mountain folks to the east and the ocean dwellers to the west. Not many people travel from the north or south because the ancient cities block their path. The strangers who come from the cities are usually not welcomed.

The students and workers gather around me as I bark out orders for the day. I’m concerned about two of the lazier workers and tell them that their days are numbered unless I see a change. They’ll be cleaning stables and making less wages if they don’t improve. As they scurry off toward their jobs, I look down at my calloused hands and think about my first blisters. My mother brought me to the gardens as soon as I could crawl. I was working the plants and the ground soon thereafter. When I turned twelve, mom told me that she was taking me somewhere secret and very special. I was dismayed when I discovered that she’d led me to the same place I’d spent my entire childhood. The only exception was that the garden lots were empty and quiet. Even the birds and wind seemed hushed.

Here I was, a newly minted woman expecting a party or at least a present and mom had dragged me to her beloved gardens. At the moment, I was not agreeing with her decision about my birthday gift. Rather, I was hot with anger and boiling over with the spite of youthful betrayal. She studied my face calmly, her yellow hair braided tightly down her back. What I saw in her eyes was not disappointment but understanding and sympathy.

“Amy, I know how you must feel. I felt the same way about your grandmother on my twelfth birthday. But it is time for you to begin understanding your role in the continuum of things. Look over there.” She pointed toward a particularly thick patch of woods next to a freshly tilled and planted plot containing squash seeds. My anger began to melt into curiosity. “The woods are the key to our success. Don’t betray them.”

“Mom, I don’t understand. How can I betray a bunch of trees?”

“Sweetheart, the woods are more than that. They link the earth to our garden. If we don’t protect the forest, then the light will begin to dim. And we need the light to ensure healthy and plentiful crops each year.”

I was always inquisitive and fairly skeptical, even of my own mother. “The sun makes light and warmth, mom, not trees. I have no idea what you are talking about.”

She laughed. “There is light you cannot see. It connects all living things — the roots, the fungus, the worms, and tiny creatures we can’t even see. They shine in the darkness and talk to each other. Let’s move closer.”

As we approached the forest, the little ones appeared. I’d seen them on many occasions during my brief life and thought I was the only one that could perceive them. No one else, including my mom, seemed to notice them or talk about them. And here I was with my mother. I wondered whether I should finally tell her about them. The creatures reached the height of my twelve-year-old waist and were transparent. They were shaped like humans, with two legs and arms and large heads, with skin that looked like the bark of an ash tree. However, it was difficult to see features on their bodies and faces. Their eyes were barely discernible, but, from what I could see, they were kind and benevolent.

“Hello friends,” mother whispered into the trees.

“So, you do see them,” I exclaimed, astonished.

“Of course I do. Only you and I and our descendants seem to be able to perceive them. They are not of this world I think. Yet, they watch over our garden and ensure that all is well for us. Through time, you’ll learn to read their signs. They are able to tell me when to expect trouble or when to be ready for exceptionally good conditions. They come in quite handy.” She grinned at them. They appeared to grin back.

“Can I — touch them?” I walked closer to one of the shimmering beings.

“You can try. But I’m not quite sure they’re—” she paused to consider her words “they’re all here. They see us and we see them. But it’s like looking at a reflection in a pool. I’ve followed them into the woods many times. They disappear in the dark.”

I was up to the challenge, feeling bold. I walked right up to one of the creatures. It squinted and retreated into the shade of a large cedar. Not to be deterred, I advanced further and the green waif floated away. The wind rustled the trees and the creature and its brethren were gone.

“Nice try, sweetheart. No luck either, huh? They like to play. They’re never far away. I catch them in the corner of my eye just about every day. And they always appear when you need them. Once, when the crops were failing, they showed me a special substance in the soil that stopped the blight. They make me look to be quite the genius.”

“How do you talk with them?” In all my years of seeing them and thinking they were my special secret, here my mother knew about them all the time and could communicate with them. I was annoyed and impressed.

“They whisper in my mind. I see images, shapes, and sometimes words. Once they learn to trust you, they will start talking with you as well. You’re ready. You also will find that you can hear my thoughts and occasionally those of other people. The keeper’s gift seems to include mind reading.”

With that proclamation, things got weirder for me. The weirdness continues to this day. I admit that the little creatures are helpful and that I indeed learned how to talk with them in my mind. They show me how the plants think. I can feel the water rising underneath the bark of the trees, the tender grass dripping with dew, and the light touch of a honeybee’s tongue. Still, I can hardly call the green things in the forest my friends. Unlike my mother, my life doesn’t completely revolve around the garden. I have questions and thoughts that grasp beyond the gardens, the village, and even the ruins of the cities I’ve never seen. I doubt the creatures understand how tired I feel or how angry Wenn and my father make me sometimes. They disappear as soon as I begin to ask the questions that plague me such as: “Who are you?” As for the mind reading, I never quite understood what mom meant by that. I’ve never heard anything but the green ones and my own voice in my head.

Another day harvesting seeds and clearing brush is nearing its end and I’m weary to the marrow once again. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me but the prospect of cooking a meal for Wenn and father is not looking good. They’ll have to fend for themselves on stale bread and cold stew. They can take advantage of the harvest. I have a basket of fresh vegetables for them to eat. The peas are particularly sweet. I begin lumbering down the dirt path toward home when I hear steps behind me. Fear’s not a feeling I understand or condone. I stop and turn. Theo’s standing there in the fading light, his shoulders broad and straight.

I set down my basket and put my hands on my hips. “Theo. I’m getting a little worried about you. It isn’t like you to stalk me or anyone for that matter.”

Theo chortles, then his face falls. “Amy. Serious now. I got this feeling that things are changing. You know I like to kid and play, but something is up this coming winter. I can feel, taste, a wrongness in the wind. It may sound funny. But I think it has to do with you.”

“By gods of the forest Theo. It’s a little early to be dipping into the shine. Shouldn’t you be out snaring rabbits in the grassland?” I have to admit, he’s making me feel a bit nervous, the look on his face uncharacteristically grim.

“I’m sure it’s silliness. But you wouldn’t mind a little company on the way home? Besides, I’ve some news for Wenn. There be opportunities to the south that might be profitable for us.”

“Profit, hmm?” I’m thankful that we aren’t lingering on the topic of danger and winter. “Did your friend Bets find another jewelry shop in the rubble of the city?“

“Sprouter, you know better than that. We don’t make hazardous trips for something as silly as rare metals or rocks. The ruins provide raw material for all the tools we use. And you never seem to complain when we bring some paper and pencils back with us.”

“Theo, you’re a terrible liar. I know how much you can benefit by providing a bauble to a passing merchant. And the white rocks are not only pretty but great for cutting glass. It’s just that there is so much risk around those old structures. You know what happened to Robison and Franks. They were messing around in one of those glass boxes rather than gathering iron. And in a wink the rest of the crew was pulling what was left of them out of shards of glass and rock. There are still shreds of them in that heap. We all have to rely on each other. There’s no room for selfishness. And for you to drag Wenn into this—”

“Gods alive. You’re not my mother. Quit your nagging. Bets and I are capable of protecting ourselves.” Theo’s grinning like a weasel. “And I just want to borrow a horse from Wenn. You can keep caring for him while we’re away.”

“You are getting no horse from us.”

“We’ll see what Wenn has to say about that.”

“It is my house, not Wenn’s. I will have the final say, Theo. Be careful or you won’t be getting that barley you so love for making ale.”

The remainder of the trek is spent in silence.

We arrive at my home, a modest wooden building with a few rooms and a moss covered roof. My treasured apple trees line the path to the front door. The house has been a part of my mother’s family for generations. Wenn moved in with father and me when we married. The windows are dark and no smoke billows from the chimney. Wenn and father are either still in the shop or have stopped at Wagnet’s, the town pub and informal gathering place, for mead and shine before heading home. Theo bows to me and leaps into the street, heading toward Wagnet’s. I think he knows something that I don’t.

I gather some wood and conjure a small fire. I pop open a flask and pour the contents into a pewter cup, which I warm over the flames. The fumes of the drink engulf me and the cords of muscle in my back relax. The men can starve for all I care.

Chapter 46 – Fromer the God

I drift to that placid night when the god appeared to me and father. The god loomed over us, even in the distance. I remember hearing a raspy whir before I could discern his physical features. The creature was flanked by six of the little green people. Father shifted and stared, so I was sure that I wasn’t hallucinating. Strangely, neither of us seemed to feel fear, but rather a mixture of comfort and curiosity at the sight.

“Hello, I’m Fromer,” the creature spoke in our tongue. He was at least twice as tall as me with thick, glossy black skin. His eyes were faceted, like those of a dragonfly, although his face was clearly like ours. A light emerald glow emanated from his body — the cool flame of a firefly. We waited anxiously for his next words. Strangely, he asked for tea. Before I turned to the house to brew a pot, it was clear that father could only see the god and not his emerald companions. The green people were sitting on the bench I’d just left, gazing at father with their heads tilted. Perhaps they were as curious about our reaction as we were about being confronted by a god walking out of the woods on such an otherwise ordinary night.

I quickly got the water to boil and headed back out to see the strange meeting. The god Fromer was perched on a tree stump with his chin in his hands. Father was guffawing. I’d never heard him laugh like that.

“Amy, my girl, come bring us the tea. Fromer here’s telling me a story about your granddad and your great uncle Aine. Turns out that they tried to steal a mule from Gringsville. They ended up being caught and forced to stand in the town square covered with manure and hay as punishment. Can you imagine? Your tight-laced, pain in the arse grandfather doing something like that?” He shook his head.

The stranger wore a buggy sort of bemused gaze on his face. He saw me with the pot and clapped his large hands in approval.

I poured the tea and shooed the green ones away. “Mister Fromer. Who are you? Where do you come from?”

Father interrupted, betraying his caution about being visited by a god. “Amy, don’t be rude to our guest here. I’m sure Fromer will be happy to tell us who he is in time.”

Our guest took a sip and chortled, a low rumbling in his chest. “Amy. I’m so very glad we finally meet. You can drop the formalities. I just go by the name Fromer if you don’t mind. It’s going to be a bit hard for me to explain who I am or what I’m doing here.” He paused and let the steam from the tea draw toward his chest. I wondered why it was going down there rather than into his nostrils. “I suppose I’m a traveler of sorts. I’ve had the opportunity to see things the way they really are and I’ve been lucky enough to be able to move through time like you move from your house to your beloved gardens.”

“You live forever,” I concluded aloud. That seemed logical for a god, I thought.

“No, Amy, not exactly. I’ll expire at some point. But I’ve had the chance to watch you, your distant ancestors, and even your grandchildren in this wonderful place.”

“That’s impossible.” I wasn’t impressed with a mortal god, although I was curious about all this talk of time travel.

Fromer grinned. “As impossible as a pea growing from a shriveled seed? Or a large black creature emerging from the woods? Amy, you know better than most.” He glanced at the green creatures milling about the yard — beings that my father could not see but were all too apparent to me.

“He’s a god, Amy. He can do those sorts of things,” my father said earnestly. “You can’t question these things. It’s beyond our understanding.”

I rolled my eyes in frustration. With time and effort, anything could be understood.

Fromer continued. “Back to my explanation. I’ve had a short time to watch snapshots — pictures — of your times since the end of the reign of humanity on earth. A close friend told me that the secret lies in your timeline here in your little village. You’d be quite impressed with the adversity your ancestors faced, especially during the early days. After sifting through it all, all the strands led to here at this time. So, here I am. This tea is excellent by the way.”

“Strands of time? You gods speak in riddles. Why do you describe time as strings?”

“Amy, it may be hard to imagine. But time and all this…” he opened his arms an impossible width, “are the same thing. Once upon a very, very long time ago, all of the earth below you and the stars above were squeezed into an impossibly small ball. The mass exploded and everything remained linked, no matter how far apart any bit is. Time, space, they depend on each other. I — I slipped through the cracks and exist outside that ball. You just live inside of it.”

I pondered this notion. Teacher and her kin spoke of this lore to us — knowledge left to us by the ancient ones before they angered the gods. Earth was a ball of water and dirt in an enormous void called space. The stars, moons, and sun were all hanging in that emptiness, wandering through the emptiness. Still, it was difficult for me to believe that all of it was scrunched into a little wad. “When did this ball blow up making everything?”

Fromer was obviously pleased that his lesson generated interest. “A long, long time ago, Amy. About 15 billion complete changes of the seasons…years as I still think you call them. The problem facing all of us is that it all is still stretching out and the strings are getting thinner. Space’s so very lonely. But it is life, like on this earth and other earths that make those strings have meaning. It was hard for me to see that single indelible fact before I began travelling. But it’s so clear now.”

Father chimed in, the explorer within him aroused. “There are other earths? I don’t even know what’s beyond the mountain range, the broken cities, or the ocean. And you be telling me that there are other earths to explore?”

“Yes. And I’ve a secret to tell you both. You and your bloodline hold the key to reaching those places. We don’t have to be alone. We can be connected with each other.”

I was annoyed. “We aren’t alone Mister Fromer. Look around you. This village contains over 300 souls. And there are many more like it throughout the countryside. I bet we could round up thousands of folks in a few weeks.”

Fromer sipped his tea with a gentle slurp. Crickets chirped and a nighthawk whined. The green beings grew bored and walked back into the woods, their glow dimming as they retreated between the boughs. “What do you think happened to the ancient ones, as you call them? I think your elders say that they angered the gods and were whacked for their arrogance. I am not going to tell you what happened exactly. This is for you to learn on your own. However, the ancient ones were searching for places to go and looking in the wrong place. There were so many of them, and yet they were growing lonelier and greedier. You should embrace what you have here. Unfortunately, change, and great responsibility, is coming. The vacuum will eventually challenge you and your people again — much too soon.”

Fromer sat quietly, scratching the small patch of coal-tar hair on the top of his head. “Let me tell you a story about who I am and what brought me here. This may seem strange to you, but I was not born. I have no mother, father, or family. Rather, I was made on another earth — a planet — far away in the void beyond your sun and moon. Part of me is like you — human. The other part isn’t of this earth, as you can clearly see.” He tapped on his breast, producing a hollow clack. “The other half of my body is of an alien race called the zenats. As you can already gather, that part’s quite different. For example, I breathe through my chest, not my mouth. I saw you noticing that, Amy. Very perceptive.”

He paused thoughtfully, while father and I stared, our tea cups untouched. He continued. “So, here I was starting my life already feeling quite alone. I was trained by both humans and zenats to do many things, except to have fun and to relax. Love escaped me, or so I thought.” He smiled sadly. “I was already quite old when I realized that it was time to move on. I found myself walking on a world of mirrors, chasing another version of myself when the door opened. You always have choices and I didn’t have to enter. A good friend convinced me that it was time to go. You’ll learn about this world soon enough. And you’ll find that another door has opened, here on earth.”

I squirmed in the bench. “What kind of vague story is that about mirrors and doors? And how can you not have a mother and father? That’s impossible. I’m assuming that you’re using the word door as some sort of metaphor? Teacher uses those all the time. I personally think they’re attempts to skirt the truth about things that Teacher doesn’t quite understand.”

Fromer nearly spit out his tea as he giggled. “Very intuitive my dear Amy. Some of this is right on the tip of the arrow point. It should be pretty obvious that I’m withholding much of my experience. And I’m still learning, thankfully. It is so difficult for me to put this into terms you’d understand right now. If I started using words like quantum drive, particle physics, teleportation, terraforming, warps, computers, and so on, how would you feel?”

“I’d feel that you’re an insane god.” I poured my cold tea on the damp ground.

“Perhaps I am. Here’s the deal for you and your father.” His chiseled eyes penetrated my round ones. “Live your life as you always have. But be prepared that change is coming. By traveling along the timeline, I’ll drop by from time to time to check in. But this will be your struggle. Mind you, they are approaching. And they are hungry.” He pointed at the sky, with its full, lighted moon and the billions of stars. His body light dimmed. “And there are others beyond all of this that are stirring as well. They are seeping out of the door, which you will soon learn much about.”

“What do you mean by beyond this?” Father asked.

“When I slipped through, I discovered — others. Impossible to define exactly. But very dangerous and jealous of life. They want to come here and extinguish life and the light it produces. Very evil, indeed.” Fromer hopped up and cleared his throat. “Enough of the dark talk. I will have to leave when the sun rises. Ansam, father of Amy, I would love to see your forge and some of your coveted blades. I’ve been known to wield a weapon every once in a while.”

We walked to father’s forge and then to the vast, rectangular storage building where he kept some of his best weapons. Fromer gravitated toward a large blade with a simple leather scabbard. Fromer looked at father. “Do you mind if I — “

“I’d be honored.”

Fromer gently lifted the blade, pulled it out, and then swung it lightly in the air against an invisible opponent. His movements were fluid and balanced. I was impressed. This god was made for war.

Light appeared on the horizon and Fromer appeared to recede. “I must go now.” He set down the sword.

Father shook his head, picking up the blade and handing it to our new friend. “Fromer you can’t go on without this. It was certainly fashioned for you. I didn’t realize it at the time. But you’ve got to have it.”

Fromer smiled, grabbed the weapon and its sheath, and leapt out the door. When I ran to the awning, he had vanished. The first beam of sunlight tickled the dew. “He’s gone father.”

“Oh, I’d reckon he’ll be back. Wait ’til we tell the others in town about this.”

“Father, are you considering telling people? They’ll never believe us. If you weren’t so valuable as a smith and me as the garden tender, they’d cast us out as touched or worse yet possessed. I’m not sure I believe what we just saw. How’d we convince others?”

“At the very least, you must tell Wenn, Amy. He’ll be your husband soon. As family, he’ll be mixed up in this at some time.”

Conflict boiled up within me. Wenn had been my choice. But, while Wenn served as an able successor to father’s post in town and as a future father to my children, I still felt separate from him. I had secrets that I wouldn’t share with anyone, including that man. Telling him about the god Fromer or whatever it was that we met didn’t feel right. For father, Wenn was a son, confidant, and unfortunately a drinking partner. I knew that there was no avoiding this revelation. If I didn’t do it, the shine in father would do it for me.

The next evening at supper, Wenn, father, and I were talking about routine matters of the day. The forge needed a new roof, the new group of students in the gardens was lazy, and fall was arriving earlier than usual. I suddenly heard myself talking. “Wenn, father and I have something to tell you. You’ll never believe it — and perhaps that’s best. Maybe we were imagining it ourselves.”

Wenn turned toward me and tilted his head. “What’s going on? You got my attention.”

Father shifted uncomfortably in his chair and took a long drink. I began recounting the events of the previous night. Father stayed silent. I guess I was traveling solo on this.

Wenn’s dark eyes searched me. “If this be a prank, I’d like to know what you’re trying to do. You’re tellin’ me that you two were visited by some giant glowing god last night and that you’re part of some grand scheme to protect us all. Protect us from what?”

I huff. “Father, I knew we shouldn’t have told him.” I wasn’t surprised by Wenn’s reaction. However, I was hoping he’d be less skeptical.

“Now Amy. Relax. I believe that you two saw something. But I can’t see how we’d be chosen for anything like this. We’re just normal folks.”

I wanted to tell Wenn that he wasn’t chosen. It was me and perhaps father. At the time, Wenn was off drinking with his mates. But no need to enflame the situation.

“Wenn, you’re right.” I pushed my chair back and gave father my best threatening glare. “Let’s leave this be. Father and I saw something that we can’t explain. And father’s best long sword just disappeared from the armory. I suppose that it may have been stolen rather than gifted. I think we should just let this go until we have more proof.”

Wenn took a long draught of honey wine. “Agreed then. Can you hand me another biscuit?”

For the next few months as the weather cooled and the days dwindled, I waited each evening in the dark breeze for the god Fromer to return. The crickets grew quiet and the wind turned bitter. It finally occurred to me that I must move on with life and let the routine drag me along.

Although I gave up on reuniting with Fromer, vivid dreams invaded my slumber. My mother appeared in most of the visions, although she seldom said a word. She looked glorious. The green creatures also visited my sleep. In these dreams, they were solid and real, rather than shimmering reflections in the woods. I could touch their bark-covered hands and feel how the skin of their faces felt like the velvet of a deer antler. They’d often bring me beautiful flowers and handfuls of grain. The dreams were peculiar in that I remember the smells better than the sights. I found myself waking, swearing that I was engulfed in rose petals, fresh hay, or unfortunately, on some occasions, rancid eggs.

Fromer appeared in only one dream, which I remember well. He looked different than before, with his skin tattered and scuffed. His eyes were grey and his little hair patch was the color of cream. He smiled, leaning on the sword as if it was a cane. When I tried to speak, he shook his head and pointed upward. I looked into the dream-sky and saw a golden cloud swirling impossibly close to my head. Faces of humans and other creatures, some resembling the god Fromer and many other beings I could not recognize, looking down at me. The urge to float into the mass, releasing myself, was overwhelming. As I rose, the light dimmed and my eyes opened to see the drab, wooden ceiling over my bed.

Spring arrived and the time for Wenn and I to marry followed. This didn’t mean that I could stop toiling in the garden complex. Rather, each night after tilling, sowing, and weeding, I found myself listening to the drone of my aunts and cousins about the upcoming festivities and how excited I should be. Even then, I felt tired, angry, and conflicted. The marriage of the garden tender is one of the most celebrated events in any village. The thinking goes that my womb is somehow linked to the fertility of the gardens. Lucky for Wenn, I suppose. However, the thought of going through the week-long celebration, returning to the gardens, and tending to a family as well as Wenn and father wasn’t sitting well. Duty be damned. Fromer’s shimmering sky was burned in my mind and I couldn’t shake the image.

Chapter 47 – Cold Front

My roaming thoughts of the past dissolve as the door opens and cold air rushes into the room. Wenn and father have returned from Wagnet’s, apparently well-fed and watered. They reek of woodsmoke, tobacco, and shine.

“Amy darling, we’re home.” Wenn barks. “No need to make us anything to eat. Farling Wagnet had some leftover potatoes and roasted venison flank. We promised to sharpen his best knives if he fed us.” Both men strip off their cloaks and throw them on the floor.

I am mildly annoyed and relieved simultaneously. “Thanks for the heads up men. I wasn’t going to cook for you anyway. So, this worked out for all of us. I see Farling provided you with some spirits. Did you get those drinks for a song as well?”

Wenn stumbles up to me and plants a wet kiss on my neck. Heat radiates from his skin and his mild, masculine scent wafts into my nostrils. His strong hands knead my shoulders and I suddenly remember why I love the oaf.

Then he ruins the moment. “Theo’ll be here soon. He’s got some mighty exciting news about the fallen city to the south. Dad and I are giving some serious thought to his ideas.”

I pull away from Wenn and finish my cooled cup of brandy in an angry gulp. “If this is about trying to extract jewels and precious metals from the wreckage of that place, you’ll be going only if you can pass me. I’m not going to lose what’s left of my family to greed. We don’t need to trade in worthless items with questionable value. That’s what wiped out our ancestors.”

Father responds from the back of the room. “Amy, we don’t know if the ancient ones were our kin. And why do you think trying to make things a bit more comfortable led to their end? Teacher says they were trying to be godlike, not trying to get a few chickens or another pony. Wait ‘til Theo shows and we can talk more.”

Wenn rubs his hands and grabs a carrot from the pantry, crunching loudly. “Listen to your pa, Amy.”

I pour another cup of brandy and chew on a chunk of stale yeast bread. We sit in silence waiting for the arrival of dear Theo and his wild ideas. Wenn fiddles with an old clock that’s been passed down through his family. It still works, although Wenn has to scavenge parts every once in a while from the cities. A knock on the door, a creak of the hinges, and Theo lightens the room. “Hello family. Miss me?” Theo’s staring at me while saying this.

Wenn throws an apple at Theo, which Theo expertly snatches. Wenn laughs. “Welcome Theo. Seems like ages since we last saw you. Amy just told us that you’ve told her of the plan that you and Bets cooked up. She’s not too keen on it, I’m afraid.”

Theo purrs. “Wenn, as I said to your missus this evening, this is a safe opportunity. Miss Bets has scoped out the area and knows what to do. Amy, you know that we’re careful and that this’d be a great way to entice the merchants to make things more comfortable around here. Before long, I suspect you and Wenn here are going to start a family. You need to be thinking long term for them.”

I slump in my chair. The clock ticks loudly and father rummages through a cabinet of kitchen tools. I suppose now is as good a time to make the announcement as any. “Wenn, father. I have some important news. I think I’m going to have a baby. It’s only been a month or so, but the midwife thinks I’m moving along”.

Father stops fussing. Wenn instantly traverses the room and squeezes me tight. “Oh goodness. This be the most wonderful moment of my life. Amy sweetie, you’ve not been holding this back on me?”

“Of course not Wenn. I haven’t been feeling myself lately and visited the midwife early this morning.” I’m lying. I’ve known for more than a week and hadn’t the energy for this moment. “Theo, I think it’s appropriate that you be the godfather of this child. You’re closer than family to us.”

Theo sits with his hands between his legs and looks at Wenn and me. “I’d be honored. You mean more to me than you could ever know.” He couldn’t smile wider.

Wenn is silent and touches my belly. “Now it’s more than clear that we go and gather the goods for this family.” He sports the same goofy look that he wore when we were first engaged.

Anger wells up within me, my face growing flush. “Wenn, this is exactly why you and Theo are not to leave on some stupid excursion into a dangerous place. That goes for you as well father. I’m not raising this child on my own. I know it’s been hard enough for father raising me. I need you men.” Of course, I do wonder about this point at times. When mother left, I found myself having to fare on my own. It seems they rely more on me than I do on them.

Wenn sighs. “Amy, enough of this talk for tonight. Let’s sleep on it and worry about these things later. We should just enjoy the good news. Do you think we’ve got the next garden tender in there? Or a strong smith like your dad and me?” He produces a bottle of a strong ale and pours us all a cup.

The next morning is like any other, with me slogging out to the gardens and father and Wenn gathering wood and coal for the ovens. Apparently, Theo passed the news through town during the night because everyone I encounter shouts congratulations. One of my students helps me carry my pack to the clearing. I might like this doting after all. I spend most of the day pruning berries. If you don’t keep them in check, they’ll spread like a terrible rash throughout the other plots. I wonder how such delicious fruits can emerge from something so invasive, greedy, and thorny. I’ve seen the green people less often during the last month. Today, they appear during my short lunch. They seem sad. I ask them in my mind what is wrong. An image of unripened fruit, picked too early, appears before me.

“Don’t worry little friends. I know when to harvest these berries.” I consider them for a long time, wondering whether there’s more to their concern than I can divine with simple mind reading.

They fidget. Two of them climb into the branches of an old sycamore. And then they fade away.

I’m walking home as evening approaches. I suppose the growing baby’s hungry, so I pick up a nice cut of meat from the butcher. The butcher shop is so counter to all that I know. The gardens celebrate and encourage life, while the meat shop is filled with the blessings of death. When I was younger I went into the basement of the shop to look for the butcher. It was cool, dark, and damp. When my eyes adjusted, I saw all sorts of animals hanging on hooks and blood everywhere. I was grateful that my life was spent in the wide open spaces of my mother’s gardens rather than in that cramped, smelly place. Shaking that memory away, I tuck the package of meat under my arm and head down the road. Wenn and father had better be there with a warm fire in the hearth. My shoulders sag when I discover the house lifeless again. “Hell”, I mutter, opening the front door.

I drop my package and satchel, shocked at the scene before me. The floor’s covered with the muddy footprints of at least three different people. I recognize Wenn’s boot marks, but not the other two. The kitchen is cluttered with shiny implements emancipated from their storage bins. All the stored food is gone. Spices are spilled on the floor. I shuffle into our sleeping rooms to find most of Wenn’s and father’s clothing gone. A few stray socks and shirts are strewn on the beds and chairs. Wenn’s favorite shirt, the one I gave him for his birthday, hangs forlornly on its hook.

My immediate, visceral conclusion is that Wenn, father, and Theo have left with Bets to plunder the ruins of the southern city. Surely they’d have told me before leaving, even if my response would be unpleasant. I frantically search the cold house for a note or some explanation. Nothing.

I run to Theo’s house. Orange light twinkles in the window panes. I slam the door open, expecting to see Theo’s mother looking worried like me, wondering where her son has gone. Rather, Theo is sitting in his tattered chair, feet propped and smoking a small clay pipe. “Amy, what a pleasant surprise.” Concern washes over him when he sees my face. “What’s the matter? It’s not the baby is it?”

“Dammit Theo, why’d you let Wenn and father go away?”

Theo looks genuinely puzzled. “Go where Amy? I’ve been out hunting all day. Haven’t seen them since last night.”

I push further. “They left for the city with Bets. Why didn’t you stop them? At the very least, you could’ve told me.”

Theo stands up, pours a cup of water, and hands it to me. I’m shaking now. “I don’t know nothing about them leaving, Amy. I saw Bets this afternoon after I returned with a nice buck. We’d never go on an excursion without telling you, especially Wenn. In fact, after you went to bed last night, we agreed that he’d stay to tend to you and the growing child.” He took a long drag of tobacco. “I’m sure they’re out hunting or drinking.”

“The house’s a mess Theo. They packed in a hurry and took all the food and most of their clothes. Three of the horses are missing. They left me.” I don’t cry. But I feel something like sobs emerging from deep inside my chest. Abandonment, anger, worry, betrayal, and sadness mix within me like a sick cocktail.

Theo wraps me in his thick arms. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. I’m sure they’ll be back tonight. Let’s walk over to the house and see what we can find.”

Theo is wrong. Wenn and father never return. I’m still torn about whether they left voluntarily or were forced. No one else in the village saw them leave. The only sign of a struggle was encased in three small drops of blood in the doorway that I noticed a few weeks after they vanished. I suspect all this has something to do with Fromer, but I’m unable to tell anyone. The green ones in the garden look at me with alien sympathy but are unable, or unwilling, to hint at what is happening.

Seven months have evaporated since they disappeared and the baby, a girl named Eliza, has arrived. My extended family, mostly my father’s sister and Wenn’s mother have helped me the best they can. However, they can’t replace the void I feel and the tickle of betrayal that settles in my gut each night as I nurse the baby to sleep. A month ago, Theo and Bets went to the south ruins to search for father and Wenn, with no luck. Theo’s mother stays with me most nights, at the urging of her son more than via self-induced charity. I’m sure he worries that whoever forced the men to leave will return for me and that his mother will help protect me — or at least alert him. His view that Wenn and father were coerced is in the minority. Most of the townspeople believe that Wenn and father left me in search of precious metal that they could use in their blades. They whisper of an accident in the broken city that took their lives. Or perhaps Wenn and father were robbed and killed in the countryside.

I’m unsure what to believe. It’s difficult to fathom that they left without telling me, no matter how unpleasant my reaction. Regardless of the events leading to their departure, the thought of a violent loss beyond the village foundation isn’t far-fetched. Since father and Wenn vanished, the number of merchants seeking father’s weapons has increased considerably. While talking about the unease in the countryside, I always ask whether the travelers saw a stocky, dark-haired man with an older, thin gentleman accompanied by three horses and a small cart. No one seems to have encountered them. Talk of unrest in many of the villages has been creeping into our conversations. As Fromer suggested, something is stirring outside. Other than losing my family, I don’t see how I’m involved. I wonder if that’s what the god meant — I’d have to endure losing my family for the common good. The only positive of all this fear is the increased business. The income from the traders has been welcome and helps me to buy toys for Eliza and better provisions to stave off winter.

I still have my responsibilities to the gardens. It is mid-summer now and Eliza is crawling in a patch of velvet moss while I tie vines to a trellis. To my muted delight, I’ve recently discovered that my baby girl sees the green ones. The creatures make the very best nannies, playing with Eliza as long as she remains interested. She accepts them as if they were a common beetle or a blade of grass. I suppose they cared for me when I was a baby while mother worked the gardens so many years ago. The day’s one of the best since I lost father and Wenn, with the anger and sadness seeming far away in a distant bog, tamped down in a remote recess of my soul. It’s one of those warm but dry days, where the sky is the darkest blue and the clouds are impossibly white and soft. My work is going well. I feel light, as if nothing could trouble me.

Evening arrives and my spinster aunt, Felicia, fetches Eliza for dinner. She’s my mother’s sister and did not seem to receive the gift that my mother and now I have. In fact, she shows little interest in the gardens at all. However, Felicia adores Eliza and helps tremendously when she’s not working at the bakery. I enjoy the silence. I’ll follow in a little while, but I have a few more vines to truss. I light my oil lantern to beat back the encroaching twilight. I’ve finished with my work, wiping my hands on my apron, when I sense something amiss that I can’t quite place. I head toward the path home and glance at the sky. It’s the new moon that is wrong. All the tiny pricks of colorful light are gone — the shadowed black disk is no longer illuminated. I’m petrified by the sight, which clearly bodes ill for all of us. The ancient ones have abandoned us. Or the gods have wiped them clean from existence once and for all.

I run down the path and drop the damned oil lamp. It’s dreadfully dark without the light of the houses on the moon, or whatever they were. All I know is that those moon lights used to be quite handy and now I can’t see. My eyes adjust and I continue heading home. The house is warm and inviting in the unusual darkness. My panic lifts as I open the door to see Eliza sitting on the floor, cooing at my arrival. Theo is rolling a ball to her and she’s laughing.

“Hi Sprouter. I sent your aunt Felicia home. Mom will be here soon, but I’d thought Liza and me’d play catch up.”

“Theo, have you noticed the moon?”

“Whatcha mean? It was there last I checked.”

“The houses, I mean lights, on the surface. They’ve gone out.”

Theo runs outside and returns dazed. “I’ll be scorched in pitch. They’re gone. How’s this possible?” We can hear other townsfolk shouting their concerns in the streets.

“This can’t be good, Theo. You don’t think this is the start of the return of the ancient ones? Teacher says — “

“Amy, relax. This isn’t the return that Teacher’s foretold. I’m sure it’s just some clouds or bad weather.” His face shows me that he’s not confident about his conclusion.

I know Theo’s completely wrong. He’s never seen a giant black bug-like god step out of the forest. I have.

We both jump at a bang on the door. Eliza throws her ball across the floor. “Theo, Marksman, are you in there?” It’s Bets. She’s the only one that calls me by my father’s family name.

Bets comes crashing in, adorned in her leather and hemp hunting clothes with a bow strung over her back. She’s clearly not here for a social visit. Bets ignores me, thrusting the hilt of a hunting knife at Theo. Theo responds. “Bets, this ain’t your knife. Where’d you get this?”

“I just removed it from the body of a stranger on the outskirts of the village. It seems that outsiders are on the move with the moon going out. I’ve heard of raids on other towns, but never thought it’d happened to us.”

I clarify. “Bets, I presume that the body was a person before he met you?”

“Yes, Marksman. This person was going to kill our people. And there’re more out there. Theo, we need to get the militia moving.” Without looking at me and the baby, she heads out the door. “Theo, come on.”

Theo looks at me. “Amy, stay in the house. No matter what you hear outside, don’t you go outside until I come to get you. He hands me a small blade. “I’m assuming you know what to do with this. Of course, there’s more in the armory out back.” I put Eliza into her bed, turn down the oil lamps, and hope that no one suspects we’re here. The voices of the townspeople fade as the town militiamen tell them to go indoors. Eliza’s auburn curls sprawl on her pillow, wrapping her tiny head in a warm cocoon. I wish I could feel her peace.

A single, muffled scream slices through the baby’s room. I grasp the knife and draw closer to the baby’s bed. More screams and shouts drift toward us, getting closer. A smoky, acrid funk fills the room. The front door rattles; it clearly is time for us to retreat. I grab Eliza and head to the corridor that attaches to the armory. The weapons storage building is fortified with stone walls and a sheet metal roof. The building predates our village and my father often called it the bunker, whatever that means. Eliza’s bawling and I feel like puking. If the entire village burns to the ground, the armory should hold. Of course, it also may pique the curiosity of the attackers. We have no food or water to sustain us during a siege. I light a single candle and hope that Theo, Bets, and the remainder of our protectors are winning the fight outside. I can only imagine what’s happening to my fellow villagers in their unfortified dwellings.

We call the building an armory but it holds more than weapons. Father and Wenn use it to store spare tools as well as common items that they fashion such as stirrups, hammers, crowbars, spoons, and nails. The walls are adorned with father’s favorite items, including some that he didn’t make but collected over the years. Some of these items are strange sticks with hollow barrels and a thickened end. He called these guns and told me never to touch them. A few times a year, father, Wenn, Theo, and some other men take a bottle of shine out into the woods with the guns. They come back all riled up, usually carrying some unusual game — strange birds, impossibly large elk, and once a huge brown bear. These guns are powerful weapons, opening up new opportunities for hunting and accelerating the mens’ joy in killing. They scare me.

Eliza is fussing. I offer her my breast and that seems to calm her and I feel better too. The walls of the armory mute the terrible sounds outside. It does seem that the cries and shouts are abating, which heartens me. The smoke smell is filtered by some material in the vents near the ceiling, so I have no idea whether the burning continues. It’s impossible for me to measure time in this space but I’d guess we’ve been in here for several hours. I’m half conscious when a distant pounding on the external door stirs me. My heart skips. I wrap Eliza in blankets and tuck her behind some barrels. If something happens to me, perhaps a friend will find her and provide protection. I especially hope Felicia is alright. She’d make a great foster mother.

I cautiously approach the door and peek through a tiny glass hole. Relief flows through my veins. It’s Theo. I crack open the door — a terrible smell of smoke and something else, burnt flesh, perhaps, assaults me. My mouth opens but no words come. I’m terrified for the very first time.

Theo looks horrible — his face a montage of ash, sweat, and blood. His left eye socket is swollen. “Amy, get Liza. We’ve got to go.” His voice is raspy and shrill but very controlled. His bravado is gone, replaced by the true, brave Theo I’ve always known lurking below the surface.

I rush back into the armory to fetch Eliza. I kneel down by the barrel and search her blankets. She’s gone. My terror is now heightened by panic. My vision blurs and I swear I’m going pass out. Instead, motherly instinct takes charge and I begin calling her name while frantically searching the space. Certainly, she crawled away and must be hiding says the strong mother inside me. I look down the room to see light that shouldn’t be there and my very core freezes. The instinctual mother vanishes and I’m nothing more than a frightened little girl.

The door to the corridor leading to the house is ajar. An eerie, flickering, snot-green glow mocks me from behind it. I run forward, barely noticing Theo beside me. Theo throws the door open and my world completely dissolves. The corridor no longer leads to the house, because my family’s home is completely gone, replaced by a pile of sticks and smoldering ashes. I scream Eliza’s name and then the scene vanishes into a void that seems endless and hopeless. I don’t want to leave.

“Wake up Marksman, I mean, Amy.” Bets hovers over me looking ragged. Her hair hangs in greasy strands in her face. Her hunting cloak is covered in blood stains, mostly not her own I suppose. I jump up and begin searching frantically. “You found Eliza, right? Tell me that you found her.”

Bets looks genuinely concerned. In a gentle voice, she says, “Amy, no we didn’t find her. If we’d stayed to search much longer, we’d all be dead. I’m pretty sure they took her.” She spits into the grass.

My panic returns. “We’ve got to go back. She’s in the rubble — I know it.”

“No, Amy, she’s not. Theo, Samuel, and I searched the armory and the immediate area. No sign of her. If you ask me, I think those people and things were after you and your kid. Once they got what they wanted, they began to clear out.”

“Where are we? If you won’t go with me, I’ll go alone.”

Bets’ hard-ass persona returns. “First, we’re safe Marksman. And second, you’re not going anywhere. You’re not gonna do your kid any favors getting killed or kidnapped. Theo told me to watch you and that’s what I’m doing. Sit down.”

I try to stand. Bets pushes me down, fairly gently. Given that I have no bearings, I’d have no idea how to get back to town. Bets hands me a jar of some shine, which I sip with shaky hands. I feel as if I’m going to burst. “Bets, what’s happening?”

“The moon went dark. The town was sacked by some very organized marauders. The raiders were real assholes and burnt the west-side to the ground. They only killed a few folks — people that were in their way. They did steal a few young women — the Killin girls, the Bences, and the Mitchells. If we don’t get the girls back, they’ll likely get sold into the slave trade. Samuel has sent some trackers to find your baby and the girls and rescue them if possible. I’d say there were fifty attackers, most on horses with torches and some nice weapons. The attack was clearly directed on your compound and the armory. We thought they wanted the weapons. Instead they took your girl. Puzzling.”

“This has to be related to the disappearance of my father and Wenn. I just don’t understand. What about the rest of the townspeople?”

“Most opted to return to their homes if the houses were still there. A few folks, including those that lost their houses, have gone over to Millsboro. Millsboro sent a small squad of militia to aid us. Too little, too late, I’m afraid. Marksman, you have to know something about why they’re after you. Do you think it has something to do with what your father and Wenn did when they left town? Maybe an unpaid debt or a grudge?”

I’m too exhausted to be angry. “I’ve told you all a thousand times. My men were taken by force. They did not leave me and the baby intentionally.”

Bets rolls her eyes and takes a long draught from her water flask. “It’d be easier if you accepted the fact that they left you for profit and paid the price. Now we’re paying the price.” She throws her knife at a tree. It sticks in knot.

“Where’s Theo?”

“Theo, Samuel, and English are at the perimeter of the town searching for any activity. We’re still sworn to protect our citizens. They’re still there. And you’re here. Reality is, we can’t let you go back if you’re the danger.”

“So, I’m an outcast?”

“Maybe. Try to get some rest. Theo’ll be back soon and we’ll decide what our next steps should be.”

Hours pass. Bets gives me some jerky and unlevened bread, which I nibble and then promptly throw up. I sip a little water, curl into a ball, and recede into hell. I never thought of myself as a weak person. However, I can’t seem to find any strength inside. My mind is jumbling with violent, incoherent images — bodies, blood, brown stains, wild eyes, and, most strangely, the wicked grin of an unknown woman.

The thrum of Theo’s voice lifts me from my trough of despair. “Amy, honey, please wake up. We got to get moving.” My vision is blurred but it’s still clear enough to see that Theo’s completely spent. One thick hand is on my wrist and the other is bracing the small of my back. And I’m on the back of a horse, holding on with desperation. Consciousness fades again.

Chapter 48 – Extinguished

Oh damn. I’m having one of those dreams where I know I’m dreaming but unable to wake up.

I look down at my youthful, sixteen-year-old hands and realize that this is the terrible day all over again. I’m in the gardens working on a compost pile. As I turn the mass of leaves, steam rises into the sky. I always enjoyed this work, taking something so potentially vile — meats scraps, manure, straw, rotten fruit — and making it into rich, sweet-smelling, functional soil. The green creatures stir in the small wood plot beyond the meadow. They gesture to me. I put down my pitchfork and walk toward them. The little ones have never acted this way before. They’re agitated by something.

I follow them into a small clearing that we use to grow cold-weather crops — deep green lettuces, sweet onions, and strong garlic, mostly. Tiny shoots of green peek out of the dirt in orderly rows. Something’s amiss in one section of the field. The sprouts have vanished and the soil is mounded. A deep growl from the chaotic dirt pile stops me. I back off and gather three of my fellow students — muscular boys with shovels and pitchforks.

We run back to the area, where a pack of fifteen mangy wild dogs, fur matted with blood and moist, mud-like slime, are fighting over the rumpled body of some poor creature. We rush the mongrels, swinging our tools and shouting. All but one of the dogs scatters into the woods. The remaining scruffy animal hunches down, teeth bared, staring straight at me with angry, cataract-ridden eyes. I discover viscerally that I can see its mind; this is similar to my ability with the green beings. Whereas my green friends send benevolent images, this dog mind is blank but very hungry. It wants me next.

One of the boys yells and swings at the animal, his shovel hitting it squarely in the head. The dog yelps — its pain and unbridled fear searing through my skull. It falls on its side and the other boys pummel it to a messy, furry pulp. While gulping air and bending with their hands on their knees, the boys examine the pack’s victim. They freeze. Will, the largest, boldest of the boys looks at me with a mixture of horror and pity — an image that is all too clear in this relentless replay in my mind.

I run forward although Will tries to hold me back. I’ve spent the last ten years trying to forget the sight before me and yet it still plagues these damn dreams. I wish I could find an herb that erases the memory and lets me sleep peacefully. Shine doesn’t help. On the precious earth is the most woeful thing imaginable burned permanently in my mind. My mother’s splayed on the ground, dirt wetted to mud by her blood. Her face is flawless — her expression serene, happy. The remainder of her body is unrecognizable and indescribable. Her favorite blue dress is shredded and mucky with dog spit, blood, and fur. It seems the dogs were playing with it before we arrived.

I can’t scream, cry, or move. I drop to my knees and stare although I see nothing. Father arrives with Samuel and several other men. The sound of my father sobbing pulls me from my paralysis. I walk over to her, close her eyes, and stroke her blonde curls. This is where the dream deviates from the ones I have had at least weekly for my adult life. I turn from my poor mother to see another dog in the woods. This animal does not appear like the others. My little green friends are standing next to it, stroking its thick grey fur. Its eyes are wise, not wild. I realize it is not a dog but a wolf. I see an image of sorrow and security in my mind. The wolf is standing over a dog with its paw firmly on its back. The green ones are telling me that this will not happen again and that they are sorry. I’m the garden tender now. No time for grief. Your mother is proud of you and carry on … for all of us.

The dream continues to surprise me. Usually, I find myself standing with my father and aunts at the base of the peach tree where my mother is being buried. This time, I am at the tree, alone. The wolf stands next to me, nudging me forward. Someone lanky and black is sitting in the shade of the tree — Fromer the god.

“Hello Amy. Sit with me.”

“What are you doing here? Is this still a dream?”

“Yes, it is. I’m sorry to say I was there the day your mother died.”

I’d like to feel angry, but this is some strange manifestation of mindfulness that apparently prohibits my ability to murder a god. I try to speak but only a weak squeak spills out.

“Your mother loved you very much and didn’t want to leave. However, she was killed by the very same beings that want to do harm to you father, husband, and daughter.”

“Dogs want to kill us? I suppose you mean something controlling the dogs? If you were there, why didn’t you stop the animals or their masters? Are you communicating with me in my sleep? Like the little ones in the forest? If so, why’d you choose such a horrific place to visit? This is not real.”

Fromer picked a peach and took a bite, juice running down his glossy chin. “The dogs weren’t what they seemed. They were indeed possessed by something you will encounter again in the future. As for saving your mother, I can’t interfere in events. I’d have saved her if I could. This dream’s real for you. Yes, I am sending you a message. This is not a horrific place. This tree is where the body of your mother is resting and it underscores the importance of the events that are unfurling. Your mother is part of this, although I can’t explain how.” He savors another bite.

“Mister Fromer. I couldn’t think life could get worse. Then you appeared. You have brought nothing but wickedness to my life. Look at what is happening to my home. Wenn and father are gone. And now Eliza. Why?”

Fromer finishes his peach and throws the pit into a patch of daisies. “Whether I had appeared to you and your father or not, the same events would have happened. I’m here to reinforce rather than coerce. Listen to and trust Theo. He knows what to do, even though the answer is unclear to him right now. Eliza, Wenn, and your father are still alive and well. Follow Theo and be strong.” The wolf appears next to Fromer’s greyish arm. Fromer scratches it behind its right ear and the scene fades.

I awake wrapped in a scratchy blanket next to a small campfire. The smell of horses permeates everything. I’m wiping crud from my eyes when I hear Theo. “How’re you feeling Amy? You passed out on the horse and were out while we’ve been riding all day. I’m glad to see you.”

“Where are we?” I groan. My throat is constricted and searing with pain.

“We are about 50 miles east, up in the mountains. I have some horrible news. The town’s gone.”

“I know. Bets told me that part of the town was destroyed. But it sounded like most folks survived the onslaught.”

“No Amy. This happened after you talked with her. These things — animals I’d never seen before, with thick brown skin, horns and huge mouths — came in. They were relentless. They used their humongous jaws to rip everything apart. They-they ate anyone they found. The outsiders came back after that and burned the entire village to the ground.” His eyes are hollow.

I’m still dreaming. There’s no such thing as giant monsters that eat towns. Of course, I’ve accepted the little ones in the forest my entire life without question. I realize that Fromer indeed visited me in my sleep and that there’s still hope for my family. Unfortunately, for the remainder of the town, my extended family and friends, and any semblance of my life, there’s no hope. I imagine poor Felicia searching the rubble for Eliza and me and then being consumed by a demon. “Theo, who’s with us? What are we going to do?”

“Samuel, English, and Bets made it back. We rode to Millsboro to warn the townsfolk there of the second attack. Word had spread that you were to blame, so they turned us away.”

“Do you believe them?”

Theo pauses to think about his response. “Sort of. Amy, the bastards were definitely looking for something in the armory. They weren’t happy to just get Liza. They came back for something, and that something, I think, was you. Not that you’re bad, mind you. They want you because you’re special and we’re here to protect you.”

I’m dubious about my companions. Samuel is my father’s cousin. He’s kin and also the best hunter I know. I guess he might stay with me through concern. However, we’ve never been close. I wonder why he didn’t stay with his remaining family in Millsboro. Bets barely tolerates my existence. English is a gifted tracker and outdoorsman but a stranger to me. He’s a few years older and enigmatic. I’ve never seen him smile.

“Theo, what makes me so special?”

His bruised and filthy face blushes. “Are you kidding? You’re the garden tender, the chosen one in the community. Your family fed and sheltered our families during the dark times after the ancient people left. You’ve a special gift. And your father. He’s got a gift as well… he forges amazing things from ancient trash for gods’ sake. You’ve got both inside of you. The future’s inside of you. I know it.” The look on his face is one of adoration, which unsettles me.

“Ok, Theo. I sort of get it from you. But what about the — others?” I whisper, “What about Bets? She hates me.”

“They owe me Amy. That’s all you need to know. They’ll follow me to the ends of the earth.” He seems pretty confident. “Can I get you some food or drink?”

“I’ll take what you can give me.”

The morning light peeks tepidly through the pines. The fire smolders. English saunters up with a few branches and a couple of logs. The fire jumps and its heat penetrates my bones. English mutters, “Hmm. Anyone in the mood for coffee? We ain’t got much left but we all deserve it after yesterday.”

Bets groans. “I’ll take a double.”

Theo scratches his butt and sneezes. “Where’s Samuel?”

“Catching us some breakfast,” Samuel replies, appearing from the brush with two rabbits dangling in his thick hands, already skinned and gutted.

We eat silently. The rabbits are delicious and the coffee is dreadful. English has spiked the brew with a dollop of shine. We’re waiting for guidance about our next steps. If Theo has a plan, the details don’t seem to be in any hurry to jump out.

Bets blows the steam from her cup. She’s read our collective thoughts. “Theo. What are our plans now? We’ve all lost people we care about. Instead of protecting the survivors, we’re here in the eastern mountains with shitty provisions and no plan. I realize that Marksman here’s supposedly the chosen one. But what’s that supposed to mean?”

Theo rises. “Bets, you need to respect what we’re doing here. I was told by the elders that Amy and her child were to be protected at any cost. You’ll heed my words on this. Once we’re finished eating, we saddle the horses and continue moving up the pass. There’s a road left by the ancient ones that’s still manageable. We’ll take that to a safe haven.”

Samuel clears his throat and lights his pipe. “What exactly do you mean by safe, Theo my boy? These people seem pretty set on finding my young cousin-niece here. We’ve not done a good job covering our tracks. They’ll be following us.”

“Trust me. The place we’re headed toward is very old and fortified. The elders told me that the answer lies within.”

“Excuse me.” I’m not going to be ordered around by Theo and I’m sure the others have their doubts as well. “Theo, what did the elders tell you? I appreciate what you’ve all done for me. But I need to be finding my family. And I’m sure these folks want to get back to their families. Why should we trust what the town leaders told you?”

Theo throws down his cup and his face becomes rigid. His stubbled jaw is chiseled with concern. “Amy Marksman and all of you, realize that this is far larger than all of us. A war’s coming. The elders brought me into their meeting several months ago. They foretold many of the events that just happened. At the time, I thought they were completely wanked. Turns out, they weren’t. When I returned after the first attack, I was able to get this.” He pulls out a small, leather-bound book and opens the pages. It is worn and old, with a combination of ancient writing and our language scrawled in it. There are several maps with strange shapes and numbers. “This book contains prophecies and a history. Many of Teacher’s stories come from this book. The elders showed me a particular passage that convinced me that the truth lies in these pages.” He hands the book to me, showing the page that changed his perception.

I read aloud. “From the gardens comes the light, and her name will be Elisa. Forests will be razed and mountains leveled, for war will fall upon us. The gods will return to earth and welcome the ancient ones once again. After that, there’s ancient writing that I can’t read.”

Samuel chuckles. “We’re running away because the book almost predicted the name of Amy’s girl? That’s pretty weak, mate.”

Theo throws a stick at Samuel. “Dammit Sam. This is more than that. The elders predicted that the moonlights would go out and that all hell would spill out. Look at us.”

Samuel’s face pales. English finally speaks. “Look all. Theo’s our leader. We’ve pledged our loyalty to him. If you want to break that trust, then get the hell out of here. Otherwise, quit doubting him. That goes for you too Amy garden-tender.” His voice remains calm, matter-of-fact. “Amy, of all people, I’m surprised that you’d treat Theo with disrespect. He’s saved your life twice now, while you were slumped over his horse. I realize that you’ve lost your whole family. We’ve all lost family now. We’ve got to stick together. Or we’ll surely die.”

“Thank you English. My word’s final. Prepare to get going now.” Theo flashes a gentle smile and begins rolling his pack. I hate him for forgiving me so easily. And then the anger washes out.

I walk up to Theo, putting my hand on his shoulder. He winces at the pain of an unseen injury. I begin my apology. “Sorry. I was wrong to doubt you and your leadership. I’ll try to help out best I can.”

He smiles a little wider. “Accepted.”

I clear my throat. “Do you have a horse for me or am I riding with you again?”

“I brought Phineus with me. He’s fast and ornery — perfect for you.”

Within a few minutes, we’re riding with Theo and his sleek steed, Silius, in the lead. Steam rises from the flanks of the horses as we reach a wide, paved path, the likes of which I’ve never seen. The road is as wide as a river and extends beyond my sight in both directions. Few obstructions are visible — a few boulders, some stray trees, and a few oases of grass. Otherwise, it’s an impossibly smooth passage into the upper mountains.

Theo’s horse pauses with a snort. “We need to be careful on this road. Amy, you’re the only one here unfamiliar with this terrain. Lots of surprises can pop out when you least expect them. The open space makes for fast traveling, but it also makes us easy targets. All eyes open — that includes all you old timers.” He smiles at Bets.

She replies, “Watch who you’re callin’ old, Theo. I was still a little bawling baby when you were stealing kisses from all the girls.”

I roll my eyes. We begin riding up the path. The air cools perceptibly, making me wish I had more layers to wear. I’m not the only one exposed. Samuel and English look like they barely had time to change out of their bedclothes. I push Phineus to canter up next to Silius and Theo. “Theo, are there any settlements along the way? We’re going to need provisions to survive the elements.”

“If I’ve read the map correctly, our destination’s about a two-day ride into the mountain. We go east and then north at a fork labeled with a large, green sign with some strange markings. He points at the book strapped to his pack. There used to be a small village near the split in the road — a trading post linking the high desert towns past the mountains to our homeland. A few trappers live there with some loggers. They should have coats to trade with us. Luckily, I brought some stuff to barter.” He pats the bags on his saddle. “And you thought it was foolish to collect rings, jewels, and shiny things.”

It’s not even the middle of the morning and my rump is throbbing. I haven’t ridden a horse in years. I keep catching Bets glaring at me. English is whistling as if he hasn’t a care in the world. Images of Eliza make my heart race. I’ll die if she’s really gone. In addition to the pain in my ass, my breasts are beginning to ache. I was slowly weaning the girl, but hadn’t completed the process. Strangely, the pain’s comforting, reminding me that I’m a mother and that somehow I’m doing the right thing.

The wind’s picking up. The scents of pine needles and wood smoke tickle my nose. Phineus’ strength fortifies me. I’m already falling in love with him. He’s edgy, but calms down at my touch. I can feel his emotions through his skin. When I jump up on him I can feel his joy. Two days of riding pass and we approach a small enclave surrounded by a wall of considerable fifteen-foot poles. Tendrils of smoke drift down the mountainside, so someone is home.

We stop at the edge of the road and look over the path leading to the front gate. Bets murmurs, “Why do they need the walls? What are they trying to keep out?”

“Let’s find out,” Samuel says as he throws a rock at the gate. “Hello. Anyone home? We’d like some shelter for the night. We have barter.”

Samuel’s announcement is met by silence, although the smoke continues billowing. Theo walks up to the gate and looks for a bell or knocker of some sort. “It’s strange they have no one on watch if they’re concerned enough to build this wall.” He examines the gate closely. “There’s sign of a struggle here. The gate is torn up and there are scorch marks. He pushes on it and it gives way. We join him and the gate swings open with a screech of tortured wood and bent metal.

“Hello?” Bets yells as she draws her bow and peers into the commons. The fortress contains a dozen simple log buildings, a few trees, and a large, whitewashed, plank barn. The smoke originates from a stone chimney in one of the houses. Its window is shuttered but the door is ajar. No movement, animal or human, is evident.

“This place’s a graveyard,” Theo says in a hush. “But there might well still be some ghosts hiding in the shadows. English and Bets come with me. Amy and Samuel stay here with the horses. If you hear a commotion, come in with your swords drawn.”

The three deftly approach the building. Bets and Samuel cover the door while Theo rushes into the space. Theo reappears shaking his head. “There’s a fire in the hearth but no one there. It’s as if everyone vanished. Let’s check the other buildings.”

Each house is filled with the stuff of life — clothing, blankets, books, preserves, and firewood. The fireplaces are cold and food is left on the tables in many of them. It seems that whoever lived here left without packing and with no sign of the struggle that was written on the outer wall. The barn’s empty as well, although fresh hay is scattered in the stables. We ready the horses for the night when I notice one of the little green ones sitting on a bench near the east wall. I had no idea they traveled beyond our village. I smile at it. It seems unfazed by me, hopping up, looking down, and then vanishing into the ground.

I walk over to the spot and notice an iron ring jutting from the dirt. I brush the soil away to uncover a large wooden-plank door leading to what appears to be a huge root cellar. “Hey, English and Samuel. Come over here and help me open this up. Maybe the answer is down here. Or we might find some provisions.”

We lift the heavy door and a pungent, slightly sweet funk assaults us. We can see a ladder but the bottom isn’t visible. English croaks. “Bets, please be a dearie and bring over a torch.”

Samuel smiles crookedly. “Want to draw lots on who goes down in there?”

“I’ll go,” I say.

“Not the chosen one, peaches,” English gently pushes me back while grabbing the torch. “Wish me luck”. He descends. Within moments, he reappears, his cool expression replaced by the pallor of a corpse. “Well, I found the townspeople. They won’t be bothering us.”

English nearly falls off the ladder back into the hole when Theo shouts, “Get over here quick. I found someone.”

We discover Theo holding a small boy, about twelve years old, by the scruff of his tunic. The kid is agitated, but in good health, relatively clean, and well fed. He begins shouting. “Who are you people? Why’d you come here? They’ll come back now, so you got to leave. Please let me go.”

“Who are they?” English asks. He’s regained his composure with impressive speed.

“The fog,” the dark boy answers as if English is stupid for asking.

“What’re you talking about?” Theo asks.

The boy’s face betrays confusion and mistrust. “Where do you come from? How can you not know about the fog? We had a truce with them since before I was born. But, when the moon went dark, they came for our blood. I hid. But they got the rest.”

Bets kicks a clod of dirt. “Apparently, we’re not the only victims of this horseshit monster attack. Kid did your village have someone special?” She looks directly at me.

“What you mean lady? I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Was there someone who tended your gardens? Had gifts? Like they could see the future, grow anything anywhere, catch animals without effort? Someone who got special attention and was treated better than anyone else?”

“No, but, we had visitors here — two men — that wore strange clothes like yours from down the mountain. More than three seasons ago. They were traveling with a tall, cloaked man who did not enter our town. We only let them stay here for a few days before they left early one morning with no warning and no provisions. My parents and the other grown-ups said they brought ill will to us. After that, we didn’t allow any strangers in. Not that it matters no more.”

My stomach flipped. Wenn, father, and perhaps Fromer had been here. I knew it. “What’s your name?”

He runs his hands through his thick black hair. “My name’s Philip, although the town people and my folks mostly call me Flip. We’ve got to hide. I can feel when the fog’s coming. The grown-ups always relied on me to let them know when to be ready.”

It dawns on me that Flip is the special one. I can feel it in him. The green one I saw over the death pit wasn’t there for me. It’s with him.

Theo regains control. “Flip, this fog. You’re saying that it’s to blame for the…” He stops to think of a gentle way to ask. “The loss of your people? How’d the fog do this to them?”

Again, Flip looks as if he is being asked a stupid question. “The fog turns into monsters. The monsters kill and eat us. Simple.”

We consider this for a spell, reflecting on the similar events that destroyed our town. I take the boy by the hand. “Flip. Show me your town. We’ve been traveling hard for the past couple of days and we’re tired, hungry, and cold. Can you show us where we can get some warmer clothes and food?”

“Follow me,” he says pulling me toward the largest building. “We stored stuff in here.”

Once we are beyond ear-shot of the others my interrogation begins. “Flip, tell me the truth. Could you always see the little green creatures? You, know what I’m talking about don’t you?”

Flip’s eyes widen as he scratches his head. “You see the greenlings? I thought my mother and me were the only ones.”

I smile sadly. “Well, I thought only girls could see them. What did your mom do?”

“First, I’m no girl. About my mom, she tended to the forest. My family’s loggers and millers. We produce the best wood in these parts. Our mill is about a mile from here, along the ridge. I went there after the fog lifted, but no one’s there. My dad and brother went missing at the mill. My mom—” He looks over at the root cellar door.

I change the subject. “Flip, show me where the provisions are.” He shows me shelves of preserved vegetables, jerky, hardtack, cheese, and even some salted fish. Barrels of ale and wine extend into the shadows These people were prepared for a siege. After that, he leads me to his family’s house, where he opens an enormous cedar chest full of his mother’s winter clothes. This breaks my heart.

“Mom’s got no use for them anymore. I’d hate to see them go to the moths.” No tears. Just a matter of fact.

“Thank you so much.” I eagerly wrap myself in a knitted sweater and pull on some thick socks. The perfume of his mom mixed with fragrant cedar wafts from the box and the clothes.

That evening, we feast on our first solid meal in three days. We try to be sensitive to the boy and curb our jubilation. Still, it’s pretty obvious that we’re enjoying ourselves. English is drunk from downing an entire flask of potent honey wine he found in one of the houses. We all have raided the houses for clothes, blankets, and a few comforts such as a sack of hard licorice candy. Flip doesn’t seem to mind.

Theo comes up to Flip and wraps a blanket over the boy’s shoulders. “Philip. We’ll look for your father and brother. They may still be in the woods, hiding.”

“Theo, sir, they’d never leave the town. They didn’t come back from the mill, so they’re certainly dead. The fog got ’em just like everyone else.” The boy’s either surprisingly level-headed or in complete shock.

English is now drunk enough to leap past tact. “Boy, how’d you not end up with your feller village people, dead in that pit?”

Samuel stands and grabs English by the arm. “Goodness man. The boy just lost his entire world. It’s one thing for us adults to lose so much, but he’s just a boy.”

Flip’s face goes blank. “They told me to hide in the cellar under the bodies.”

English dribbles wine. “Who…exactly…are…they?”

The boy looks at me for help. We don’t want to tell them about the green ones. I stammer, “English, leave Flip alone. You needn’t interrogate him. He’s lucky to be alive and was very brave.”

Bets gets up. “I’m going to lie down in a real bed. I presume we’ll be off in the morning?”

“Yes, we need to head north,” Theo replies. “Flip, you’re coming with us.”

We all shift uncomfortably. English throws down his flask and walks into the darkness beyond the hearth. Now they have two problems to deal with: me and the kid.

“I’m not going with you,” the boy responds. “You’ll be riding right into the monsters’ land. They’ll rip you apart. Why aren’t you going down toward the flats where you came from?”

Theo smiles sadly. “We’re searching for a place up the mountain where we’ll find answers.”

“Well, the only answers up there are to stupid questions. You people are touched.” Flip gets up. “I’ll see you off in the morning. Doubt you’ll ever return.” He looks at me. “Are you sure you want to go?”

“We have to go,” Theo responds noticing the boy’s gaze. “The reason we’re going up is for her.”

Flip gives me a puzzled look and leaves.

I’m sleeping deeply on a bed by a dying fire when Flip shakes me to consciousness. “Miss Amy, we’ve got to go. They’re coming back for both of us. I can see them at dawn.”

My first thought is strangely not of danger. Rather, I’m annoyed that these creatures from the north won’t let me get sleep. “Flip, go tell the others. What time is it?”

“About an hour until sunrise.” He’s gone in an instant.

I pack my bag quickly, making sure to include extra blankets and as much hardtack and jerky as possible. Shouting outside suggests that Flip’s message has been heeded. I emerge into the dark, damp, cold to see Bets, Theo, and Samuel saddling up their horses. English is not there. “Where’s that shit at?” I ask them.

“I dunno,” Bets exclaims. “But if that boy’s making us move for no reason, he’s going to end up with the rest of his village.”

Flip is right, though. I can see three greenlings, as he calls them, standing on a hay bale pointing toward the south wall. I presume that this is where the fog will enter the encampment. The scent of lamp oil, manure, and decay drifts into the commons and the horses begin whinnying. “Flip, are you still planning to stay?” I ask.

His face is pale and his eyes wide with fear. “No ma’am. I’ll go with you for a bit.”

“You can ride with me on Phineus.”

The smell grows stronger. Dim, greenish light appears and Samuel shouts for English, with no response. The first tendrils of greyish-brown mist descend the south wall when we hear rustling underground. The sound emanates from the large root cellar and the fog moves toward it. Then the groans begin. At first I think it is English trapped in the ground, but I instantly realize that the moans are increasing in number — a symphony of dead throats singing to our doom. The alien fog is waking the dead and apparently, the bodies are animated enough to scale the ladder because the door is rattling. The large iron ring is flipping back and forth ominously. I don’t want to see what might pop out.

“We need to ride,” Theo exclaims. None of us protest. We exit the north gate and head up the road toward the clear morning light, riding hard for quite some time. The air’s clear and calm and the horses are settled. We pause to rest at high noon. We left English’s horse in the clearing in the town. I suppose we’re all expecting to see him galloping toward us. Neither he nor the fog and its allies appear to be pursuing.

Theo is chewing on a piece of hardtack and studying the elder’s book. I hand him a blade of grass. “Do you think that idiot English will find us?”

“English may have drunk himself silly last night. But he’s mighty capable in a fight. He’ll catch up to us if he can. We need him.” Theo takes the grass and ties it into a knot. “I’m leaving him markers to know where we’re going.” He points to a small cairn on the side of the road. “We use these during hunting trips to find the best lots. They’re hard to notice unless you’re looking for them.”

We ride two more days in brilliant, optimistic sunshine, making frequent stops to allow Theo to check his book and read the landscape. We arrive at another fork in the road, with a rusted green sign hanging by a single bolt. It screeches as it swings in the wind. “By the symbols on this sign and the lay of the land, we are to head east here.” Theo stacks a few flat rocks and we are on our way again.

We’re in the high desert now. A small, ruined city lays ahead, dark and angry looking. I see my first skeleton in the dust, looking as if was recently uncovered by the winds. At the outskirts of the rusted buildings and scattered rubble, we again head north into sparsely wooded hills, following what used to be a paved road. Theo slows Silius considerably and searches earnestly for some landmark. “All of you, we’re looking for a large metal tower with a plate on top. The trees here might be hiding the view. The structure should be on a ridge.”

We fan out and shortly Bets exclaims, “Over here”.

She’s standing before a vast metal lattice reaching above the trees. A few straggly vines hang from it. Otherwise, it looks well maintained, as if it is still in use. Of course, none of us know what the purpose of such a strange thing might be. Perhaps the ancients used it to climb and search for approaching enemies. It appears that they are still using it, which makes me nervous.

Theo hops off Siluis and gives him a pat. “From here we walk.”

“How far?” Bets asks.

“An hour, perhaps less. Look for a metallic door in the hillside with a red circle on it. It was meant to be hidden, so we need to look carefully.”

Three hours pass. We’ve walked up and down the hillside several times. Samuel and Flip have given up and Bets is cursing and kicking small rocks. Theo is perched on a reddish boulder, rubbing his forehead, patiently reading the leather book, and sipping a little flask of shine. I continue to walk around, more curious about the plants and animals I see than finding the door. I marvel at the variety of life in such an apparently dry and desolate place — very different than the moist, warm gardens of my home. I’m chasing a tiny tan lizard through the brush and trip over a long, braided metallic cable, unlike anything I’ve seen before. The metal isn’t corroded and was clearly buried at one time. I follow it up the hill, as it snakes in and out of the ground. And then I see an indentation on the side of a small outcropping. I touch it and a sheet of dust, sand, and rubble falls away to reveal two metal doors, both with faded red circles on them, and a box that resembles what I’ve seen in so much of the junk in the rubbish piles. There are nine symbols on squares, each representing a number from 1 to 9 in the writing of the ancients, according to Teacher. I presume that these numbers represent some sort of puzzle that will open the doors. I hope desperately that the answer to Eliza’s disappearance is in there. Maybe Fromer, father, and Wenn are waiting for us.

I hop down the hill to Theo. “Found it. Give me some of that shine to celebrate.”

Theo jumps up, dropping his book. A piece of parchment falls out and whips toward me in the wind. I pick it up and notice that it is a sketch of a young woman who resembles me or perhaps mom. Theo rushes toward me and grabs the picture, tucking it back between the pages. “Nothing to that, Sprouter. Just some notes.” He’s counting that I didn’t have time to study it. I decide to leave it be.

We scurry uphill to the door. The wind picks up and dust devils scour the landscape. Theo studies the structure and smiles broadly. “The book talks about a puzzle board like this one. It has an answer for solving it, I think. Here, hold the book.” He concentrates on the pages and begins pushing each square as per the book’s instructions. He finishes and nothing happens.

“Perhaps we wait,” I say. Theo looks annoyed and punches the boxes again. I then notice another button below the three rows of three. “What happens if we push this?” I step forward, press it, and a red light appears above the box. “Well, something just happened.”

A strange whirring sound like nothing I’ve heard before emanates from deep inside the hillside. The light begins pulsing and then forms a strange beam that zags across us. We both duck and step back, but the red strips seem to follow us. “Theo, should we be concerned?”

“Dunno Sprouter. It’s just light. Can’t see how that’d hurt us.”

“Don’t you remember Teacher’s stories about how the ancient ones used light to kill their enemies?”

“Do you really believe those stories?” He thinks for a moment. “Let’s maybe step back then.”

As we retreat behind a large reddish rock, the light vanishes and the doors part with a hiss. The whirring approaches us and then a small, metal box adorned with what look to be eyes and strange black wheels appears in the doorway. A bright red circle is painted on its side with the symbols F-R-E-E-D-O-M E-A-R-T-H underneath. It speaks in a strange monotone that is nonetheless similar to our own tongue. “Hello. You can stand up. I will not hurt you.”

Theo falls back in the dirt while my jaw hangs limply. “Should we run for the others?” I ask.

“Not sure,” Theo replies.

“There are others?” The metal box sounds curious. Its voice is neither male nor female. I have no idea how it is talking without a mouth. It continues. “By all means, please gather them. I have not had visitors for quite some time.”

I head down the hillside to gather our troops. Samuel decides to stay with the horses and scout for English while Bets and Flip join us. He’ll check on us occasionally and make sure that we can get back out through the door. As we walk toward the door, I warn Bets and Flip about the talking box. “We have no reason to trust the thing. Keep your weapons ready at all times.”

Bets looks at her sword. “How’s this going to stop something made of metal?”

“I don’t know. It didn’t seem to have any weapon that I could see. So, hopefully there are no worries.”

Theo seems more relaxed but is still hunkered behind the boulder. The box has shifted slightly and is talking with him. Theo turns to us. “So, this box thing is tough to understand. It calls itself an inter farce and that its job is to talk with people. Why’d the ancient ones need a talking box?” He laughs.

“I am an interface. The humans of which you speak need us to accomplish many tasks — order food, arrange travel, communicate with others, schedule meetings, maintain their homes…”

“Sounds to me that the ancient ones were helpless children and very lazy,” Theo interrupts.

“Oh no, they were fully grown adults. Many were quite brilliant. I miss them. I apologize. I have not been a gracious host. Please follow me into the facility. My masters have been gone now for centuries. I would enjoy serving you.”

We look uncertainly at Theo. He nods and we follow the whirring, talking box into the dark tunnel. I look over my shoulder as the daylight recedes.

Chapter 49 – Hm

My eyes adjust to the dimmed light of the corridor. Most everything I see I cannot comprehend — much like the junk we plow from the fields every spring. The difference here is that the windowpanes with no apparent use, the square buttons, and the strange knobs and levers all seem to be in working order and to have a purpose. Light surrounds us, and as Teacher said, there’s no heat. The smells of earth and growing things are absent. In their absence, another scent is present, but I don’t recognize its pleasant flowery notes. There’s something else. I can’t place it but I know that I’ve smelled it before. The air is dead. I already miss the wind on the hill.

We shuffle on. I’ve never been this far underground before. My heart pounds. Sweat slicks my back. The walls seem closer — I desperately want to turn and rush back to the sunshine and open spaces. Theo puts his hand on my shoulder and my nerves recede. I’ll have to accept the feeling of being buried like a corpse in this cramped tunnel.

Thankfully, the corridor opens into a vast circular room, the ceiling stretching impossibly high into the space above. Brilliant light trickles down on us. At first I think it is the sun, but the color’s all wrong. Sunlight is warm and comforting, while this light is cold as snow. Flip, Bets, and Theo stand next to me, stone still, soaking in the sight. If this is a mere reflection of the grandeur of the ancient ones, their dwellings and cities must have been magnificent. Red, blue, and yellow banners hang from the walls.

“This is where my masters lived before the fall,” the box says. “Please follow me to the dining area. I will prepare a meal for you.”

Bets looks confused. “How’re you going to prepare food down here? There’s no place to make a fire, no chimney. And where do you hunt or harvest if you live under the ground?”

“I must apologize. You must be living under primitive conditions on the surface. I will be happy to explain any questions you might have to the best of my ability. But first, you require sustenance.”

The metal box rolls away and we wander around the vast, sterile area. The walls above us are lined with stairs, walkways, and hundreds of doors. The floor is arranged into areas with seats, benches, and tables, all built with colorful materials that I’ve never seen before. The floor is covered with a strange, soft material that looks like fabric. All is in perfect order, with no signs of the messiness of humans. In the center of the room, there’s a large, round platform — a stage perhaps.

The metal thing reappears from nowhere, startling all of us. “Please follow me. I do hope you enjoy what I have prepared.” We follow the box into a large, well-lit room adjacent to the central hall. The walls are made of rough hewn pine, while a fire crackles in an enormous hearth. A wooden table waits, adorned with platters of the most beautiful and strange-looking food. We cautiously sit down and begin exploring the dishes. I take a helping of something too pretty to be edible. I’ve never tasted something so delicious, the creaminess of the freshest butter and a savory like no herb I’ve ever experienced. Bets, Flip, and Theo are similarly enthralled.

“My sensors indicate that you are enjoying the meal very much. Your pupils are dilated, your heart rate has risen, and endorphins are increasing. I am pleased.” The box is speaking in riddles. We don’t care. If this is what the ancient people experienced all the time, they must have been fat and enormously lazy. I’m enthralled and appalled simultaneously. I also have to pee.

The box approaches me, somehow sensing my discomfort. “Excuse me. Would you like to use the facilities?” It moves toward a thin door at the back of the room that I swear wasn’t there earlier.

“Facilities? Does that door lead out to a cess-house?” I whisper.

“I am unsure of what you speak. The door leads to a washroom.”

“How on gods’ earth do you know that I have to relieve myself?”

“Human biosigns are quite easy to interpret, with the proper programming.”

I have no idea what it’s talking about, but I take it up on its offer. The room is impossibly white with a basin on one wall and a loo-like seat in the center. I gingerly do my business, stand up, and the thing jumps to life, scaring the daylights out of me. I turn to see that the seat is gone and a voice, not unlike the boxes’ speaks from nowhere. “Please wash your hands. Would you like to take a shower or freshen up your clothing? Do you require make-up?”

The walls are no longer white but shining like silver, reflecting everything as clearly as the finest mirror I’ve ever seen. Water scented like rose flowers appears in the basin. I cautiously wash my hands and splash my face. A robe made of a spongy blue fabric is draped on a chair. I consider wrapping myself in it, then think better of letting this place entrap me. I stare at my image in the mirrors. My sandy hair’s a matted, curly mess and my eyes are drawn deep in their sockets. I’ve always been thin, but I can see the outline of my bones under my arms. I breathe deeply and leave.

“What happened to you, Marksman?” Bets is sitting back with her hands on her belly.

“Looks like she saw a ghost in there.” Theo laughs, with a strangely serene look.

“Give it a try,” I say. “It’s the strangest shithouse I’ve ever seen. Doing your business indoors. Doesn’t seem dignified to me. And you have company while you’re in there. Apparently, these people weren’t capable of passing gas without assistance.”

Bets pushes her plate away and suppresses a belch. Flip heads to the washroom. Bets turns to Theo. “This is great fun, Theo. But we came here seeking answers to questions. I’m sure Marksman wants to know where her daughter, father, and husband are. And we need to know how to stop the coming war. We shouldn’t stay here.”

Theo looks at his glass cup and marvels at the frozen chunks of water floating in it. He turns to the metal thing on the floor. “Box. We need to know where Amy Marksman’s family is.”

The box does not answer. Theo boldly taps on it. It responds, “Yes, master, what do you desire?”

“Do you have a proper name?” Theo asks.

“I am called a Human Machine Interface. My masters called me Troll, although I never understood why. They considered it a source of humor. What are your names?”

Theo pauses for a moment, considering whether it is wise to give the thing too much information. It continues, “I am only asking out of politeness. I know from your conversations that you are Theo and appear to be the leader. The thin, raven-haired, fetching woman in the animal skins and plant fiber is called Bets. Is that an abbreviation or a nickname?” Bets shuffles uncomfortably, but says nothing. “The young man enjoying a shower in the washroom is Flip and I surmise from his dress and manner that he is a new arrival to your party. Finally, there is Amy Marksman, an attractive, tawny haired but sad young woman.” Troll turns toward me with its dead, black eyes of glass. “I am sorry but I know nothing about the whereabouts of your family.”

“But that’s impossible, uh, Troll.” Theo says as he sits back down. “The book handed down to me brought us this far. The answer has to be here somewhere, somehow.”

I lightly touch Theo’s hand. “Theo, did you think it’d be that easy? This is like a puzzle. The answer to our questions is here somewhere. Troll, we need to know many things. I suppose it’s best for us to know a little about where we are and what you’re doing here. We didn’t know that anything survived after your masters left.”

“Oh, my masters never left,” Troll answers.

“What do you mean by that?” Bets asks. “They were punished by the gods and forced to leave earth to the moon. Or killed, right?”

Troll sits silent for a moment. Thinking? Then it answers, “You poor souls. After so many generations, you have experienced significant information loss. It will be better for me to show you images of the incident so that you may understand the conditions leading to the loss of our society and my isolation.”

Flip appears from the washroom, hair dripping wet and wrapped in one of the blue robes. “That was great,” he says with a grin.

“Boy, you smell like flowers.” Theo waves his hand past his nose.

A blinding light fills the room and all the food and dishes vanish. The walls, fire, and table are wiped away, replaced by the same mirror-like surface in the washroom. Flip falls to the floor, panicked.

“I apologize for alarming you,” Troll responds. “This room and most of the others have special surfaces that can be shaped in many ways based on your desires and needs. I programmed this room to resemble a dining area that you might experience in the world as you know it. It really is quite harmless and very convenient.”

I have no idea what Troll is talking about, but the ancient ones were far more amazing than anything Teacher ever described. It makes sense that the gods crushed them for over-reaching. We follow the box into the vast central area. Troll stops near the central platform and asks us to sit. Bets stands defiantly, while the rest of us find large, stuffed chairs and sigh in comfort. The space above the plaza sparks to life. Empty air is now filled with unimaginable buildings of glass and metal reaching toward the sun. Colorful boxes, carts maybe, shuttle around the buildings. Some have wings and fly while others roll on the ground. People adorned in strange, colorful clothes saunter on streets of strange black and red rock. They move with no apparent purpose. I see one sickly tree jutting from the surface. I have no idea how it can survive locked in that suffocating, artificial world, which looks like it could be summoned from a child’s painting.

“We are looking at New Reno, the city that you invariably passed through on your travel to this place. It like all the others is ruined now.”

The image vanishes. We are now gazing at a night sky with brilliant stars. A huge red ball, not all that unlike the moon, hangs before us.

“This is mars. It appears as a wandering red star in earth’s — our — sky. In this holovideo, we are hovering 1,000 kilometers above the surface of this planet. Your ancestors lived on mars before the fall. I do not know whether they still live there. If they do, this would give us hope that they may return someday.”

Theo clears his throat. “Ancestors? So it’s true that we’re brood of the ancients? How’d they get to such a little star in the sky?”

“Of course, you are their descendants. You lost their technology when it was destroyed by terrorists. You are no less capable of reaching the same level of sophistication they had. It will just take time and a grasp of science.”

Troll’s using strange words. He explains science to the best of his ability. We all are curious about terrorists. They don’t sound like gods. “Troll, were the terrorists the gods?” I ask.

“Goodness no, Amy Marksman. They were people, although I am unsure whether they were human or some other species. They released a tiny substance onto earth that very quickly degraded human-made materials called plastics. These materials were part of most manufactured materials and wreaked havoc on society. The motives of the terrorists are unknown, although they likely perished along with most of the human population.”

The viewing space before us transforms into a chaotic fugue of images of crumbling cities, boxes falling from the sky or crashing on the ground, widespread fires, and a thing Troll called a train piled on its side and burning. The images then go blank.

“As you can see, the end was traumatic. I think it is time for you to rest. Your biosigns show that you all are exhausted. It is late and we can continue tomorrow morning after breakfast. Let me show you to your rooms.”

After a very brief, lackluster debate, we decide to follow Troll’s advice. We presume Samuel will be fine camping on the hillside and that he probably is already resting or drunk. It must be midnight outside.

Troll guides us to a large, glass box he calls a lift. We step in and it rises high along the wall. It opens onto a walkway with a series of doors. My room’s magnificent, augmented by Troll’s magic I surmise. The bed is impossibly large and soft, with cloud-like pillows. There’s another adjacent room with a shower. This time I soak in steaming water and wrap myself in a soft robe. I’m unconscious before I hit the bed.

I awake with no idea of the time of morning. I decide to explore this place, peeking cautiously in the walkway. No one is stirring and the light of the artificial sun is dim, I guess to make us think it is early morning. I shuffle barefooted down the walkway to the lift. Troll’s box sits in the hallway. I step in, Troll asks me where I want to go, and I tell it to take me up. The lift responds instantly, with me leaving part of my stomach below. Troll’s box, still sitting in the walkway below, shrinks rapidly as I ascend. The lift stops at the highest level — the plaza and seats on the ground floor seeming tiny as fleas. Up here, there’s only one door. It’s labeled with the symbols M-U-N-I-T-I-O-N-S. The smell I noticed when we first descended into this place is strong here. I suddenly recognize it as the scent of the oil used on the guns in father’s armory.

The door slides open and I tip-toe in. The room before me has hundreds of shelves leading far into its recesses. Each shelf is loaded with guns, boxes of strange devices I cannot comprehend, and occasionally blades made of a strange, very light, exceptionally sharp black material rather than metal. This place did not have a peaceful purpose. I’m a little glum, realizing that these enlightened people still had the need to kill each other. I shove a sheathed blade into the pocket of my robe and turn to leave. I must tell the others.

“Hello, Amy Marksman. You have discovered our munitions storage and practice arena.” I crouch behind a shelf, searching for the source of Troll’s voice. The box is nowhere to be seen.

“Troll, where are you?”

“The device you call the box is but one physical extension of me. I am the central interface for this entire facility. Thus, I am able to sense you no matter where you go. I have nothing to hide and neither should you. I am always available for you.”

“Why did you need these weapons?”

“I did not require them and am incapable of using them. They were wielded by the human caretakers. My masters held a unique view of the political and sociological views of their time. They were certain that collapse was imminent. They were correct in their prediction, although not about the cause of the fall. The weapons were meant to protect them from an attack of looters. You see, at that time, human population density was high and many people were starving. This distress challenged the government and collapse seemed likely.”

“Seems like an awful lot of weapons to keep some starving and scared people away.”

“My associates surmised that there would be a need for leadership and order after the fall. They would provide that stability.”

“With guns? I’m unsure of how they work, but I suspect they are powerful. My father and his friends use them to hunt large game animals. My leaders never needed weapons to persuade our people.”

“Would you like to learn about these weapons?”

Goosebumps rise on my arms. Father never gave me the opportunity. “Sure.”

Troll leads me to an attached room with its walls, floor, and ceiling coated in black foam. It calls this a firing range. The box appears with a gun in its mechanical arm. The weapon is short and surprisingly light. A window to my left appears with an image of the weapon. I follow the instructions as they appear and fire at the life-like image of a deer in the range. The recoil is light and exhilarating. Troll informs me that my target is eliminated. In the following hours, I fire a dozen gun-like weapons, lob concussion grenades, launch a rocket, and learn about defensive armor. This is seriously addictive.

“Your companions are gathering for breakfast. Would you like to join them?”

I fire one more volley at the various targets appearing at the end of the room. “Sure, but I need to change first.”

After slipping back into my traveling clothes, which have been washed and folded, I follow the box back to the dining area. The room’s awash with morning light shining through a draped window. I know that it doesn’t really exist, but my mind is already beginning to accept the fantasy as reality. What bothers me most is that I don’t seem to care very much. I have to force myself to worry about Eliza and the others, wondering when we might escape this pleasant cage.

I sip the most amazing cup of coffee and study my companions. Bets and Theo seem particularly serene. I wonder whether they may have spent some of the night in the same room. Flip looks haggard. I wonder whether he’s slept at all. After we eat, we move back to the viewing area.

Theo begins the lesson. “Troll. We need to know why we’re here. How’d we know to find this place and what are we supposed to do next?”

“This was curious to me as well. I took the initiative to sample your DNA from your clothing while you were sleeping. I do hope you don’t mind. Excuse me for making an assumption about your science knowledge. DNA is a substance in each of your bodies that is unique and related to your ancestors. Only one of you has an apparent, biological link to this facility. Amy Marksman, you are distantly related to Captain Francis Jonston who was a high-ranking member of the clan that maintained this facility. The Captain apparently provided information to one of your ancestors about how to access this place. Quite illegal and an offense worthy of banishment. Remarkably, this information was retained among generations in your village and brought you and the others here.”

We all are stunned. I ask, “So, this DNA tells you that my great granddad a hundred times over provided us with clues to come back here?”

“Yes,” the Troll says with no hint of surprise or concern.

“What happened to him?” I ask.

“He is still here.”

Flip is clearly agitated, motioning for me to talk with him. I’m not feeling particularly sane myself. I walk over to the boy and he whispers, “I saw stuff last night. Stuff that y’all need to see.”

Troll responds. “Flip is trying to tell you about the location of the masters, including your ancestor, Amy Marksman. Flip, please lead them to the chamber.”

Flip leads us to the lift, which takes us down further into the ground rather than up. We stop in a dimly lit chamber, with blue lights along the walls. I grasp the knife I lifted from the armory as we descend. Flip points. “Over there.”

I’m startled to see the shadows of about one hundred people standing along the far wall. Each is motionless, rigid. I walk up to one of the figures. Its skin is drawn, lips rigid, teeth jutting forward. Nails extend from shriveled, bent fingers. The mummy is adorned in some type of blue outfit with metal buttons. Strangely, the one non-desiccated feature is the mummy’s eyes, which are strangely lucid and a striking blue.

“That is Private Silian Dorse. She became inactive 1,112 years ago. She was the top in her class at Dartmouth — a university. I do miss her.” Troll the box rolls to each erect body, producing a short biography. This person enjoyed a game called tennis; this poor soul detested breakfast; this individual was the best rifle shot in the unit.

“Where’s my ancestor, Jonston?” I ask.

Troll leads me to a tall body with broad shoulders. Strange, lively brown eyes stare at me — my mother’s eyes. My gut squeezes and breakfast is on its way up. I turn away and gain my composure. I want so desperately to sob, but my brain won’t allow it.

“Troll, all these people died young, didn’t they?” Bets asks cautiously.

“Yes they did,” the machine voice answers.

Theo looks at all of us with silent concern. We understand that we are in danger, although the nature of the threat is unclear. We realize that we still haven’t accomplished any of our intended goals. Theo clears his throat, “Troll, please take us back upstairs to see more about what happened during the fall of the ancients.”

“Very well.”

The room grows dark as we ascend into artificial daylight.

The viewing space is now filled with a giant blue, green, and white sphere, rotating slowly in a field of ebony velvet. I gasp at its beauty. “Is this our world, Troll?”

“Yes, Amy Marksman.” A small, blinking white dot appears on one of the green blobs of earth. “We are here at this spot.” I presume the blobs are continents floating in the ocean. There’s so much ocean. Troll continues. “The mysterious terrorist attack likely began at this spot, a place once called New York.” Another dot appears on the globe. “The world that culminated in creatures like me was connected in many ways. Communication among the human machine interfaces occurred through a vast, complex network of cables of optical fibers.” The globe before us bursts with white lines like webs. “Power was distributed by organic materials usually in parallel with the communications system. Most facilities were not completely independent. When the attack by the substance occurred, the wires connecting all the cities, homes, factories, schools, hospitals, et cetera, began to degrade quickly.” The lines on the globe connected to New York thin and disappear. We have little idea of what Troll is talking about, but it’s apparent that the loss of connections was a problem.

“The first course of action by the network of human machine interfaces, including me, was to cut back the growth of the attacking material, which was more insidious than any weapon every envisioned. We began to send as many materials to destroy the advancing wave.” The images before us change to explosions, fire, and dirt billowing into the sky. The boxes we saw flying in the air of the cities are now crashing into buildings. Large, bird-like vehicles that Troll calls planes fall from the sky into the earth. The worst vision is of a box that is clearly full of children. They are looking out of their windows helplessly as the box crashes into a stone building, exploding on impact.

“You killed people in their carts and destroyed cities?” Bets asks breathlessly.

“The only logical course of action was to use every vehicle and weapon at our disposal to sever all connections to the New York attack. We also eliminated the city and its surrounding areas to avoid further contamination.”

We freeze, much like the mummies below us. Troll and its kind were cold, calculating, and clearly homicidal. Those poor people had put themselves in the hands of their destroyers. And we all realize that we now have placed ourselves in these very same hands.

“Unfortunately, the attacks were not confined to New York. All major network nodes throughout the world were experiencing the same degradation of wires and cables connecting them. We continued to confine the infections, but we failed. Any vessels leaving the planet were decommissioned to prevent spread beyond orbit.” The white lines connecting points across the globe vanish quickly. Within a few moments, the lines are nearly gone.

Theo is clearly nervous. “Troll, why was this place spared?”

“This facility and a few others across the globe were commissioned to operate independently. Power is furnished by an internal fusion reactor deep in the ground below us that is rated for 10,000 years. Communication is via a satellite link and passive, long-range radar.”

“Troll, we got no idea what you’re talking about,” Theo complains.

“Simply put, this facility, me, will survive for another 9,000 years as long as external threats are eliminated. Internal threats also must be curtailed.”

If I understand Troll’s last sentence, we’re in trouble.

“What about the people in this facility?” Bets asks, her voice warbling. “The people in the cellar?”

“They disagreed with my actions and were disabled. I removed the air from the facility, suffocating them. I keep them here, preserved, as a memorial.”

“Are you still able to talk with others — others like you?” I ask, trying to divert the subject.

“Yes, there are 30 intact HM units around the world. We communicate via a series of satellites but have lost contact with other interfaces beyond earth. We are very isolated and cannot see far beyond our enclaves.”

“Are there other ancient ones on earth?” Theo keeps the questioning going.

“If you mean other humans that are associated with the governments that arose after earth was isolated — no. The planet has been quarantined indefinitely because of the threat of the agent that destroyed the networked system. If it gets out, it may destroy all of civilized, industrialized space, which I assume has spread considerably in scope during the past centuries. Of course, surviving humans such as yourselves have been allowed to persist because you are not conceived as a threat.”

“Thanks, we appreciate it,” Bets responds.

Troll pauses for a few minutes as if it is considering what information it should divulge next. “There may be a stranded vessel in my quadrant of this continent.”

Theo perks up. “If I understand correctly, and believe me, I’m only getting bits and pieces here, you think there might be some ancient ones — or space people — stranded with a ship near here?”

“Yes, Theo leader. Three-hundred and sixty-seven days ago I detected the signature of an ion propulsion drive near the ocean, here.” The image of earth zooms to a patch showing our location and that of the downed vessel near a large body of water, likely the ocean.

“How far away’s this ship?” Theo asks.

“Do you still use standard units of measure for distance such as kilometers?”

“No, I don’t know about kilometers. How about the distance a horse can travel on a working trot?”

Troll is working through calculations. “About a week’s ride from here. Why do you ask Theo? I hope that you do not intend to leave. That would be unacceptable.”

“Just wondering. I’m ready for a break.” Theo nods at all of us. “Let’s wander a bit.”

Troll’s box rolls away to tend to some unknown business.

“You’ll never believe what Troll showed me this morning.” I figure there’s no harm in all of us practicing with the weapons. Apparently, Troll does not perceive this as a threat. And I actually believe the thing is enjoying our company. We need time to consider our options.

We take the lift to the munitions stores and spend the afternoon in noisy revelry. Bets the archer is particularly enthralled with the high-powered plasma rifle. While she pumps rounds at imaginary game, Theo and I talk quietly about our condition. “I’m hoping that Troll has difficulty understanding us while Bets is making all that racket,” Theo says. “It isn’t a coincidence that Jonston’s your ancestor, Sprouter. And that shipwreck from space has got to be important as well.”

I nod. “Can you believe that there’s a whole race of humans beyond this place? Do you think they’d help us if they knew what’s happening?”

“We’ve got to get to that ship and see what’s there. My gut tells me it’s the reason we came here.”

Troll’s voice steps in. “As I have said before, you cannot leave here. I cannot risk you divulging information about the whereabouts of this facility.”

I respond quickly. “Sorry, Troll. We’re very content and happy here. You must’ve misheard us.” I look at Theo with wide eyes. Flip is scratching his head, while Bets looks annoyed.

“Very well. I have prepared a meal for you. Please join me soon.”

This is going to get old very fast.

Chapter 50 – Escape

I’m falling asleep in my luscious bed when the god Fromer appears in the chair next to me. He’s smiling with his weird face and I’m unsure whether I’m conscious or slumbering. If I’m awake, Troll will be sure to see this visit as curious and intervene with a visit from its box.

“Don’t worry Amy, you’re the only one that can see me.” Fromer’s deep, raspy voice comforts me. “A nice thing about being in between the cracks of reality is that I can slip in and out of your dreams. This is a form of telepathy that your mind has already grasped. As I’m sure you and your friends have realized, you’re all in great danger.”

“So, we’ve made a mistake? Coming here?” If this weren’t a dream, I’d throw something at the bug.

“No, no. You’re in the right place at the right time. Being here will allow you to find your family. However, how you handle the next few days will determine how many of you leave alive.” He scratches the tuft of hair on his head.

Fromer stands and walks around the room touching the curtains, straightening a doily on a table, even sitting on the loo with his spindly legs outstretched. “Do you still think gods destroyed your ancestors’ world?”

“If it weren’t for you and the green people, I’d doubt that gods exist at all.” I’m angry. I want my baby back. And this giant insect knows how to get me there but won’t tell me how. “Fromer, I think people made all this stuff, including that monster box thing, Troll, and it destroyed them. How did people live back then, with everything handed to them? Where was their freedom?”

“Amy, you talk about this as if it is in the past. If you look into the sky, this is still the normal condition for the trillions of humans and their kin, including my kind. You and your people here on earth are unique. It’s time for us to talk about how to get you, Flip, Bets, and Theo out of your trap. Lucky for you, Troll has its weaknesses. As you’ve noticed, the previous human inhabitants didn’t have me to help them out and they suffocated for it. Their greatest error was underestimating the cold logic of the hums, sorry, I mean human-machine interfaces to you. This is how you all survive. First rule — communicate with each other only by writing. Use strips of paper from the washroom and write in private, when Troll isn’t paying much attention.” He points at the loo. “You’ll have to use your imagination about what to use for ink. In addition to concealing your conversations, you’ll need to control your feelings. Troll’s very good at recognizing human emotions. It can tell when you’re lying, even if you’re convincing to others. You need to stay relaxed. I know, easier said than done. You’ve got to work with the others to make this happen. Troll’s programmed to read and respond to human behavior. This computer was a very early model, one of the first of its kind. Are you understanding me so far?”

“What are we going to use for ink?” I ponder.

“Focus, Amy. Human actions are very complex and often illogical. This requires a huge amount of processing power to interpret computationally and it slows Troll down. You may have noticed that Troll needs to think about certain situations for a while before acting. This is Troll’s weakness. When you are ready to escape, the key is for you all to act strangely — for humans that is.” He smiles. “Talk backwards. Speak gibberish. Walk in reverse. Laugh for no reason. Dance. Throw food. Sing silly songs. Whatever. Just do everything out of context.”

“We’re to act like we’re wanked?”

“Wanked, drunk, completely touched, whatever you’d like. When you do this, it should be simultaneous and calculated. You won’t have much time, so you’ll have to act quickly. Luckily, Troll has shown the henhouse to the foxes. You’ve plenty of firepower necessary to blow Troll’s head off and then get out of this place.”

“Head? Do you mean that we’re to destroy Troll’s box?”

“Goodness no. That’s just a tool Troll uses to move materials around the facility. There are at least twelve of those confounded robots rolling around. In fact, you’ve interacted with at least three of them, although you think they’re all the same unit. They’re identical. Troll’s brain, if it were, is nestled in the lower level of this compound with the delightful mummified bodies. You’ve seen it already. It is a small glass box on a pedestal in the center of the room. The trick for you and your friends will be fetching a few concussion grenades from the armory upstairs, bringing them downstairs, and using them to blow up Troll’s processor without killing yourselves.”

“How do we do that?”

“Act crazy. And cooperate.”

I realize Fromer may know the whereabouts of Wenn and father, if he was indeed the cloaked figure that Flip spoke of. “Mister Fromer, I need to know. Were you the one that took my father and husband?” He is about to speak and then vanishes as the lights in my room rise and my bed lurches.

“Amy Marksman, please wake up. Your companion Flip needs assistance.” I’m troubled to see one of Troll’s roving boxes, robots as Fromer called them, perched at the foot of my bed. Speechless, I follow it upstairs to the munitions room. Flip is standing there with an active concussion grenade in his hand. Bets looks at me with a mixture of helplessness and disgust. All Flip needs to do is to take his finger off the button and we have until the count of three to escape.

“Flip, honey. What’s the matter?” I say with my best soothing voice.

“I can’t stay here Amy. Troll’s got to let us go. Those bodies — they’re just like home. And he did it.”

“Flip, we like it here. I’m sure you’re confused about Troll’s hospitality. He’ll do anything he can to make us happy.” While I say this, I’m trying to use my eyes to let him know that what I’m saying is complete chicken crap.

Flip’s obviously out of his mind and not reading me. I change tactics. “Flip, please calm down and shut off the weapon. We can work this out. You’re tired and need to think this out a bit.” I nod encouragingly.

Flip seems to respond and sits down. I walk up to him and touch his shoulder. He sobs and Bets quickly grabs the grenade, turning its switch from red to green. I turn to the Troll box. “Sorry Troll. He’s a boy, immature and confused. He’s lost his family — out there. We really appreciate your help.” The box turns and disappears beyond the door.

I gesture to Bets and Flip, pointing to the lift. They follow me to my room where I silently motion for them to sit while I go into the washroom. I rummage through the silver drawers and find a stick with black material in it. Troll’s voice appears from nowhere. “You may use this to highlight your eyelashes.” Why the hell would I want to spread black stuff on my eyes? Regardless, this can serve as ink.

“Thanks, Troll. I’ll use this later.” I shove the stick in my pocket. I sit on the loo and jam paper into my pocket. It occurs to me that Troll will have no idea how to read our words because our script changed since the ancient ones left. How convenient. I bend over the sink and write in large, careful letters on a small scrap: WE WRITE. NO TALK. I know Bets and Theo can read, thanks to Teacher. I’ve no idea about Flip.

I return to the room and slip the paper in Bets’ hand. She looks it over and understanding dawns on her face. She hands it to Flip and he nods. He can read. We now have a chance. We find Theo wandering the lower level and hand the paper to him. His bright, optimistic smile spreads wide across his face. Once circulated, each of our subsequent messages is flushed away to who knows where.

Troll suspects nothing. We’re careful to exchange notes as casually and carefully as possible. I’m suspecting that Troll doesn’t understand deception and has no reason to expect that we caged animals want to fly. We’ve been captive here for about a week. There’s no sign that Samuel has tried to rescue us. For all we know, Troll intercepted him and Samuel’s now drawing flies at the entrance of the facility.

The plan’s taking shape. I’d like to get more guidance from Fromer in my sleep. But he doesn’t seem to work that way. My dreams are empty, typically punctuated by the horror of my mother’s death and the loss of Eliza. I wonder whether Fromer knows more about the shipwreck. I suppose he’ll return when he’s ready.

In the time that we’ve had here, we’ve learned much about the people, our ancestors, who lived on earth before us. Troll’s an eager teacher. It seems that there are other intelligent beings than humans in space, but not as many as the ancient ones expected. It’s hard for me to believe, but apparently the earth was filled with humans and machines. Most people did not live in luxury like that provided by our current surroundings. Rather the vast majority were starving and barely scraping by. The green earth was choking and people were lacking water and dying of the simplest things. I can’t imagine it until I think about the wasteland of the broken cities. Seems to me that the people would walk away from all that machinery and start planting their own fields and raising their own livestock. Apparently, that wasn’t possible in those days. It took a huge disaster to get us back to living with the earth rather than against it.

I’m overwhelmed when I learn that the stories of the lights on the moon are largely true. After Troll and the other interfaces crushed humanity on earth, the ancient ones remained on the big white orb and worlds beyond it. Until the night our village was destroyed, our ancestors still inhabited the moon and were watching us from afar. Troll lost contact with its kin on earth when the lights went out up there. About this one thing, Troll is as uninformed as we are.

The morning of our attack comes. We take advantage of one more meal from Troll before it’s time to kill it and escape. Flip takes the lift up to munitions, as he’s done during the past few days. Bets and I gather in the central room while Theo retreats into the recesses of the facility. Time to act wanked. Theo sings drinking songs from the village and howls like a wolf. Bets talks to herself, occasionally smacking her forehead, belly, and butt while skipping. Flip fires weapons upstairs. He’s no longer aiming into the range but discharging haphazardly. An occasional explosion suggests that he’s having fun with the concussion grenades. Much like the night of Fromer’s visit, one of Troll’s boxes approaches me. “Amy Marksman, I require your assistance. Your companions are behaving outside of my performance parameters. This is highly unusual.”

I respond using a language that I invented with my friends when I was five. Complete gibberish. I dance and shout. Troll goes quiet. The lift descends as the armory shakes and shudders the entire facility. I’m sweating as I sway my arms and tap on the box like a drum. Three more boxes appear. One heads toward me, one toward Bets, and the other toward the lift. Troll is apparently not distracted enough. Bets jumps on top of one of the boxes and shouts, “Troll, tell me all about the people who lived here before us, starting with the oldest and ending with the youngest.” It seems that Troll is about to speak when Bets interrupts it. “Troll, tell me about how you were made.” The boxes move toward her. “Troll, how many stars are in the sky?” I keep singing and speaking in tongues as I rush to the lift, joining Flip. Bets keeps asking new questions, interrupting the machine. Flip and I descend into the lower level.

When the lift stops, I freeze. All the mummified bodies are scattered on the floor and Theo has disappeared. Flip has a robe full of concussion grenades and a small launcher strapped over his shoulder. He lobs volleys of explosives randomly into corners of the room. Four more rolling boxes appear and then I feel dizzy. The air grows thinner, as both Flip and I gasp. “It’s sucking the air out,” Flip hisses. “Take this grenade and make it count.” He fires at the boxes while I run toward the small glass cube perched on a table that contains Troll’s mind. The air shudders with explosions as Flip screams. Bets joins him in the distance. All goes grey as I activate the warm metal in my hand and lunge forward at the pedestal.

I awake to dead eyes and a shriveled face, acrid smoke, and more screaming. A mummy of some long-dead captive is draped over me. The screaming’s coming from Flip — he sounds a bit like a cat in heat. The space is washed in red light. I push the debris and mummy aside and crawl toward Flip’s mewing. One of the robots has him pinned to the wall, a large spike extending from the machine and lodged in his skull. His arms and legs are flailing. Rivulets of crimson blood are pooling in his lap. I have no idea what to do. The box is motionless, the light on its top absent. The logical portion of my mind suggests that I killed Troll. But not before it impaled poor Flip, pinning him to the wall like an insect. I start screaming and throwing chunks of glass — Troll’s brain — at the box.

“Oh no.” Theo’s croak from behind me sends me lunging forward. “Poor, poor Flip.”

Flip’s intact eye has rolled back; his screams transform to a soft gurgle. Theo whispers, “There’s nothing we could’ve done for him. He’d make his people proud.”

“Where were you Theo?”

“Getting this.” He extends a hand with a small plate of black glass, warm to the touch. He waves his hand over it and an image of the planet appears above it. “A map. I was afraid it’d be destroyed when we attacked Troll.”

Flip’s no longer breathing and I marvel that I survived the explosion. Shards of glass and plastic are scattered everywhere. I swear it was the pile of dead bodies that softened the blow. “Theo, are we sure that Troll is gone?”

“If you’re considering sticking around to find out, I’d consider you wanked for real. We need to get Bets, collect some weapons and provisions, and then leave.”

The lift no longer works. We climb a ladder and search the ground section for Bets. We call for her, with no answer. Theo shouts, “I’m heading upstairs to get some guns and grenades. Keep looking for Bets.” He begins scaling the wall up the shaft of the lift. The robots are still on the floor, with the chairs and tables scattered about. A stool is jammed in between a pair of steel doors. I approach cautiously and peek in the space. One of Troll’s robots is on the floor, with Bets pinned underneath it. My stomach lurches, expecting to see the same horrific scene that Flip left in the basement. Instead, Bets is breathing, with her short blade jammed in one of the robot’s black eyes. Her head’s caked with dried blood, but the gash appears to be superficial. It won’t be long before she again treats me with loathing.

Theo starts lowering weapons, ammo, and grenades via a makeshift rope system he’s fashioned from bed sheets and other materials. I gather them in our sacks and begin setting up a pile that we can retrieve for packing on the horses, if they’re still there. Theo finishes and slides down. Bets has regained consciousness and is puking. “Can you travel?” Theo asks. She nods uncertainly. We begin trekking up the corridor to the surface.

Halfway up, the lights change from dim red to bright white. The facility is powering back up and something’s following us. We increase our pace, but Bets is still weak and dizzy, slowing us considerably. I turn to see three robots gaining ground, each with a spike extended similar to the one that impaled Flip. Theo hands Bets to me. “Head up. I’ll take care of these.” He crouches and pulls a plasma rifle from his pack. I marvel how quickly we’ve adapted from arrows, staffs, and swords to these lethal tools.

I drag Bets toward the outer portal to the sound of Theo’s shots. The same red light we saw when we first found the door to the facility appears and is scanning us. A soft whine fills the corridor and instinct tells me to duck. I pull Bets to the floor just as a beam of white hot light sears the wall where we were standing. We crawl the last few feet to the doors. Surprisingly, the doors slide open and we’re in the open air, with noonday sun shining in our eyes. It’s blinding.

As our eyes adjust, we hear Samuel shout, “Get down.” Samuel’s hiding behind the same ruddy boulder Theo and I used what seems like months ago. Arrows fly as we crawl toward him. There are five immobile robots strewn around the area loaded with arrows and dented by rocks. We flop behind the boulder to find English sitting next to Samuel, staring at us with an astonished gleam in his eyes. This is the closest to a smile I’ve ever seen on his face.

“Where the hell’ve you been?” Samuel hisses.

I try to answer but an explosion and rain of rocks interrupts me. Theo’s rushing toward us as a ball of flame that looks like an arrow but is surely much more lethal follows him from the portal. He ducks and the rocket, I think Troll called it, smacks into the boulder. Theo regains his footing, pulls a weapon I don’t recognize from his belt, and fires at the door. A thin white flame flies across the space, hits the doors, and the entire opening crumbles with a roar. “We’re not going back in there,” Theo gasps.

We slide down the hill to find a small encampment built by Samuel and English. English appeared two days after we descended into the earth, while Samuel was busily destroying Troll’s robots with rocks and arrows. The metal boxes weren’t built for combat and each took only a few hours for him to destroy. Still, Samuel was unable to get to the doors and try to free us during our interment.

We’re drinking shine around a fire. I’m feeling strangely annoyed at the inconvenience of having to sleep outside on the cold ground and eat half-cooked game again. Theo explains our ordeal to Samuel and English, although it’s nearly impossible to describe the wonders we experienced. Bets is sleeping between bouts of retching. I don’t feel like reveling. I can’t banish the sight of the boy Philip struggling during his last few moments of life. I could feel that spike in my own head. Telepathy, as Fromer called it, may be a bag of black and white beans.

Theo shakes his head at English. “What happened to you, fool? You shouldn’t been drinking that night at the village. Serves you right we left you.”

“Sorry ’bout that. I was feeling a bit glum. You won’t see me in that fashion again.” His slurring voice betrays him. The shine’s already settling into his blood. He continues. “I woke up in that haze. Couldn’t see my hands in front of me. That’s when I heard ’em shuffling in the fog.”

“What you mean by them?” Theo asks. By the drawn, concerned look on Samuel’s wrinkled face, we’re not going to like what we hear.

“My head was pounding more than usual after a night of overindulging, if you know what I mean. I thought at first that the footsteps belonged to you all. But then they starting groaning.” English takes a long draught, his eyes vacant. “I swear the villagers — they was rising from the pit and other resting places. Brown mist was dripping off them like dew or snot. The ones I could see were bloated and smelled something awful. If it wasn’t for the whinnying of Claire, I’d surely have been suffocated by the bodies. There’s no way I’d let them harm my horse, so I jumped up, ran straight toward her, and somehow we got away. A few of the stinkies challenged us, but I dispatched them with my blade and Claire trampled what was left. Other things were forming in that fog. We didn’t stay to see what they were. About a half mile from the town, the haze lifted and we headed north. We followed Theo’s stone piles and here we are. It wasn’t tough to find Samuel. The smoke from his fire traveled for miles down the mountainside. If whatever was in the village is looking for us, it knows where we are.” English shoots a boozy, nasty look at Samuel.

Samuel responds calmly. “I done it for your sake and mine. You could of used the direction and I needed some help up here.”

Theo’s clearly ready to wrap the night. “Time to sleep. At dawn, we start heading south toward the ocean. We have no time to spare.”

English is oiled now. “You mean to tell me that you dragged us all the way up the mountain to go back down the mountain? Horseshit, Theo.”

Theo’s too spent to argue. He produces the tablet from the facility and touches the screen. A bright image of the mountainside appears before him, particularly colorful and lucid in the dark. Our location’s betrayed by a blinking blue light. The road we followed up the mountain is clearly marked as a red vein. English drops his flask. Samuel exclaims, “I’ll be dipped.”

“This’s why we came up here. We now have a guide to our next stop. Tomorrow we travel. Now shut it and sleep.” And the image from the magic pad goes dark.

Chapter 51 – Descent

Morning’s arrived and we’re clopping back toward the sea. We’re taking a route that avoids Flip’s village, but there’s still a chance we might encounter the nefarious tan fog. We’re tense, cold, and tired. The horses seem happy for the exercise and the sun’s burning through the clouds. I’m elated to see and feel warm rays touching my skin. We’re on the right track. Troll’s message about the shipwrecked visitors was meant for us. These people will have the ability to help us find Eliza, father, and Wenn.

Bets seems healthier this morning. She’s complaining of a headache, but her dizzy spells are less frequent. She’ll have a nice scar on her forehead. Theo has transformed into a leader. Atop Silius, I see a man, not a boy. Theo’s eyes are deeper and his shoulder bears an invisible burden, which sadly suits him well. English has receded back to his blank self. Now that the shine has left his system, he’s outwardly oblivious to the dangers we’ll soon face. Samuel looks much older. I swear that he’s taking short naps on the back of his steed. His beard is whiter.

Around noon, Theo gives Samuel and English lessons with the weapons we scored from the facility. I’d have liked for us to have retrieved the remainder of the arsenal we left underground. But Troll’s reincarnated spirit would have none of that. Regardless, we have a considerable advantage now over most of our adversaries. I do wonder how the creatures in the fog, the walking dead, or the monsters that destroyed our town would respond to our new weapons. I desperately hope we don’t have to find out.

We mount our horses and continue our descent through the dense forest. Samuel is clearly invigorated. “Imagine the game I could bag with one of them rifles.”

Theo throws a chunk of hard tack at him. “Samuel, we’ve only got so much ammo. You’ll need to stick to the arrows and snares for food.”

Samuel grunts and strokes his thick beard.

Bets rides next to Theo. They pull ahead and talk about something in a hush. Bets occasionally turns to look back at us, as if we might be hearing their conversation.

English and Samuel don’t notice or don’t care. In contrast, I feel something strange inside. Could that be jealousy? I let my worries about my family beat that green, unpleasant sensation back. Still, if they are an item, Theo could do better than Bets. She’s spiteful and angry. I’d wager she’s trying to convince Theo to abandon our search and have them leave me on my own. Or worse, she’s suggesting that Samuel and English serve as my only companions while he and she bed down somewhere and raise a family.

We ride downhill another two days and then head south along a smaller, flatter road. This route is well traveled, a merchant’s path. Usually, we’d encounter many carts and men on horseback. Not now. The way is deserted. Even the birds and squirrels are scarce. The air’s warm and I can smell the sea. We camp by a small stream. The burbling soothes me and I wish we could just stop here. Theo expects that we have another couple of days of travel before we head west toward the ocean. Bets and English are in the scrub hunting for dinner. I’m gathering some herbs and water for a stew. Theo has largely abandoned the leather book from the elders and is now fixated on the tablet from Troll’s compound. It contains much more than maps. Images of the ancient world emerge vividly, moving as if they are alive. There are countless images of text that we cannot read and drawings of things that have no meaning to us. The map continues to show where we are relative to the vessel we’re seeking. It reminds us how small our world was and how big it is going to become.

Samuel has disappeared. We assumed that he was visiting the bushes to empty his bowels. That was an hour ago. Bets and English did not see him when they returned with dinner. It’s uncanny that he’s missing a meal. Another hour passes. The stew’s bubbling and we’re chewing on some delicious honeycomb that I found in a hollow tree. Theo points out that it’d be best that we don’t shout Samuel’s name. If he’s lost, the smell of the cook pot should lure him back. No need for us to draw unnecessary attention.

Dinner is over and I’m rinsing the pot when I hear crashing in the woods. I see Samuel’s stark beard before the rest of him emerges. His eyes bulge. Sweat drips from his forehead. He mutters, “Put out the fire. We’ve got to be quiet.”

English quickly kicks the fire, scattering the logs and embers. Bets scoops dirt on the remaining flames. Theo grabs Samuel’s forearm. “Samuel, man, what’s the matter?”

“I decided to take a walk after getting some relief, if you know what I mean.” He pats his lower belly. “I heard a commotion and saw movement in a nearby clearing. I snuck up and saw a group of people, well armed with light armor and lots of blades. I figured they was like us. Maybe lost their town and were forced to roam around. Then I saw the same damned things, monsters, that leveled our home.” His voice cracks and a single tear perches on his eyelid. “The people were feeding the creatures, parts. Human body pieces. Arms, legs, heads. Horrible. Just like I were at the butcher’s.” The tear runs down his cheek.

English shakes his head. “Samuel, you’ve got to be hitting the shine. This surely can’t be.”

“I believe it,” Theo whispers, distributing Troll’s weapons among us. “We’d better be ready. How many people and things are there?”

“About ten good-sized men and a couple of ragged ass women. There are three monsters. Their weapons ain’t going to match ours.”

“We aren’t planning to confront them, are we?” I ask. It seems suicidal for us to attack these things after what they did to our home. We are outmatched, even with the big guns and explosives.

Bets responds. “After what they did to our families and friends, they deserve the wrath of hell. I say we surprise ’em and blow their asses to Sunday morning.”

Theo sighs. “We aren’t fighting no one unless they pick the fight first. We can’t afford to waste our ammo. We’ve got a plan and we’re sticking to it.”

Bets kicks at some coals, her cheeks reflecting the ruddy hue. Samuel and English seem relieved. I just want to crawl into my bed sack and disappear.

We pack the horses and quietly depart in the blanket of darkness. We ride for about ten minutes before the trees fall on us. At least, I think they’re trees. The branches scrape my face while leaves whirl around the horses’ hooves. Theo shouts, “Dismount and follow my voice.”

I jump off Phineus, who’s snorting loudly, but before my feet touch the ground, an enormous set of arms grabs me. I’m being carried off into the woods, with the shouts and grunts of the men and Bets growing more distant. I beat on the arms with little effect. I yell for the others but doubt they hear me. I can’t see my captor well. Its body is frigid and damp in the warm sea air. It doesn’t seem to be breathing, although it occasionally produces a low grumble. Most disconcerting is that I can’t tell where it ends, because it doesn’t have sharp edges. Rather, its form is constantly shifting, like fog on the water.

We near a well-lit clearing, glowing orange-red with firelight. My stomach drops as I realize that it must be the same spot Samuel saw. I’d prefer not to die as meat for some alien creature. This isn’t how it’s supposed to end for me. The creature drops me in front of a lanky, auburn-haired woman dressed in a simple, stained red dress. Veins criss-cross her arms, a small wooden staff clutched between her steely fingers. I examine the creature that captured me. It drips with moisture, like ice brought out of the cellars during summer. Its skin is mud brown. I see no eyes. Rather, its head is dominated by an enormous grinning mouth with large blocky teeth. The thought of being crushed by those jaws consumes me.

“Get up,” the woman in red orders. I rise before her. Three large, scraggly men stand behind me, pushing me forward with their staffs. “Who are you?”

I remain silent. None of my companions has appeared. Perhaps I’m the only one captured and they’ll rescue me soon. Or they’re dead or scattered and I’m doomed.

“Speak to me or we’ll hack you to pieces and feed you to the grubs.”

I consider this for the moment. It’s time to speak. “I’m a spice merchant traveling between towns. I have no business with you. If you let me go, I won’t speak of this to anyone. Mercy please.”

Red dress shakes her head. “The towns along this route are all dust, thanks to me. You’ve been doing no business. I’m giving you one last chance. Who are you and your friends?”

“My name’s Bets Fenster. My village was destroyed and we’ve no home left. We’re looking for a new place to settle.”

“What’s the name of your town, girl?”

Foolishly, I find myself telling her the real name of my former home.

Red dress grunts. “That’s impossible. We destroyed that place as well as the surrounding villages. No one survived, except those I let go.”

These people could have Eliza or know where she is. I ask, “Were you looking for someone? There, in my village?”

“We are looking for the family of Marksman. Do you know them?”

I reel, tensing all my muscles to keep from dropping to my knees. My mind’s blurring. I’ve no idea what to do next. One of the goons slams the back of my leg with his staff and I fall forward into the dirt. My palms scrape the rocks, filling with blood.

Then strangely, red dress bends down, grabs my arm, and gently lifts me up. She says gently, “He shouldn’t have done that. Something tells me that I need to know you better. My name’s Thresh. Let’s sit and talk, between women.” She gives the man that knocked me down a sullen frown. He looks at me nervously and recedes into the darkness of the woods.

We walk over to a musty canvas tent. The interior is simple, with a table, a cot, and three chairs. “Sit,” Thresh commands. She produces a bottle of amber-tinted shine and pours two cups. “I know who you are.”

A trickle of sweat runs down my back. My hand trembles as I reach for the cup and take a sip.

“You’re the mother of the little one and a descendent of a line of people close to the earth. You’re a Marksman. Isn’t it strange how fate brought you here to us?”

Anger replaces fear. “Where’s my daughter? What have you done with her?” I search the tent for a weapon. I consider pummeling her with my chair.

“So, I’m correct.” Thresh settles back in her chair and gulps her drink.

I rise and lunge for her. In an impossible instant, she’s risen and blocks me with her staff, which I swear wasn’t there a moment ago. She pushes me back into my chair.

She snorts. “What’s your first name, Marksman? You’ll be joining us for a long time, so we should get to know each other.” I stare at her wishing she’d die. “That’s fine if you choose not to chat. You’ll eventually turn around. You’re wondering what’s special about you and your daughter, yes? What makes you two worth so much death and mayhem? And there’s a lot of blood on your back, Marksman.” She cracks her neck and stretches luxuriously. “Well, you have a gift, a connection with the earth. This ability to see…” She pauses. “Feel or sense what’s beyond the greenery and the soil and the very fabric of all this…well, that’s special. Turns out that I have that too. And, for all I know, we’re the only people left on earth who can do that.”

She doesn’t know about Flip. Or maybe she does. Perhaps the attack on his village also happened because he was different like me — us. I look over this red woman and wonder if she really believes what she just told me. I suppose I ought to talk. Perhaps I can divine the location of Eliza and figure out a way for us to escape this horrible place. “My name’s Amy Marksman. I’ll do whatever it takes to get my girl back and kill you.”

Thresh laughs. “You’ll get your girl. But you won’t kill me. So, Amy, where’ve you been since we visited your town? Sorry about the mess.”

“Looking for my daughter. Can I see her?”

“If you tell me what I want to know. How many were traveling with you?”

“Ten others, heavily armed. They’ll come back for me. What are those things with you? They’re not of this earth, are they?”

Thresh doesn’t seem concerned about my exaggeration. “The creatures — we call them grubs. They found me, actually. I was living with my stepfather. My mother left him and me years ago. He was a mean, nasty son of a bitch. Beat me. The whole town turned their backs while he thrashed the hell out of me.” She pulls down the front of her dress and shows me scars running across her breasts and stomach. “I’m descended from a line of oystermen. We grew mussels and oysters for the village through the years. My stepfather exploited my gift and forced me to harvest beyond what the beds could support. His greed was killing the productive coastline that took my kin centuries to cultivate. I have a sister somewhere. She ran away years ago — too weak to face the man.”

“Where’d the grubs come from?” I’m afraid I already know the answer.

“They came down from the mountains in a thick, brown fog. Its the way the others-the ones from beyond this world, this reality — travel. They shape the grubs from the fog….use it like clay in their image and travel in them. I discovered I could talk with them — the grubs. I asked for emancipation. They’d give it to me for my allegiance. And my knowledge. They taught me how to use the fog to raise the dead — my own way to shape beings in my own way. Like a god. Can you believe the luck? The villagers saw that I could communicate with the grubs and feared me. The walking dead didn’t help, I guess.” She giggles. “They accused me of witchery and tried to hang me. The grubs and I eliminated them all. The townspeople serve me better dead than alive.”

“You sold out all those people for your freedom?”

“Gladly. My family fed those innocent people for generations and they turned on me. People fail you in the end. The grubs, they’re the family I’ve got. The images, visions, they send are magnificent. They hold promise for a new world. I want to be part of it. In charge of it.”

“The dead. How do you make them rise?”

“I don’t know exactly. I summon them and can see through their eyes. I think you’ll be able to see through them as well. I need you to join me.”

Realization dawns on me. I’m a freak like Thresh. I’m as much to blame for these horrors as she is. I gather my strength and ask, “Then who are those people with you?”

“Disciples. Converts. Not sure what to call them. But I convinced them that following me is the path to salvation. Or else they become dinner for the grubs.” She pauses, looking thoughtful. “Let’s go see your girl.”

I hate myself for feeling something strangely like gratitude toward Thresh. We rise and head for the entrance. We both jump at the sound of a woman’s voice outside. It’s Bets yelling for her captors to release her. We enter the clearing to find Bets flat on the ground, hands bound behind her back, flopping like a fish out of water. She sees me. “Marksman, for gods’ sake, what happened to you? Tell them to let me go.”

“Bets, I don’t think they’ll listen to me.”

Thresh orders her goons, “Let Bets stand up.” She turns to me. “I presume that you two are acquainted? Bets, please tell me. How many more of you are wandering the woods?”

Bets spits at Thresh, struggling to free herself from the arms of the two men holding her. She’s furious and bleeding profusely from her forehead.

I say, “Bets meet Thresh. I don’t think you two are going to see eye to eye on things. Bets, they have the monsters that destroyed our village. I’d do what they say or you’re going to be ripped to pieces and eaten.”

This declaration agitates Bets further as she’s dragged away into a nearby tent. I’ll find Eliza first and worry about Bets later. Thresh leads me to a small tent at the edge of the clearing. Joy fills me as I hear the sound of a little girl giggling. I rush toward the tent and am about to enter when I’m knocked back by a huge rush of air. It’s a concussion grenade smacking into one of the nearby tents. Thresh shouts orders to her followers. The grubs fan out toward the edge of the clearing. I try to rise but my left leg is limp. I look down at my hands, which are slick with blood. Impossibly white bone juts out of my shin. I murmur, “Eliza” and the scene vanishes.

I awake in the dark with Samuel standing over me. “Hush,” he whispers. “They’re searching for us and they’ve still got Bets.”

“Eliza?” I ask. I sit up and my vision blurs. I’m so close to her. They can’t stop me.

“Amy, I know. You’ve been saying her name for the past couple of hours. Your leg’s snapped and you have a nasty head wound. You ain’t going nowhere. Theo’ll get your girl back if she’s there.”

I hear yells, explosions, and shots in the distance. Theo and English appear, winded but unharmed. Theo asks how I am and looks at me sadly. He whispers, “We tried to get Liza but those things eat all our weapon fire. We can’t get close enough to hit any of the people.”

“Eliza’s in there. You’ve got to go back.” The pain’s excruciating but my panic is worse.

Theo kneels and touches my shoulder. “We’ll try again tomorrow night, I promise. It’s almost dawn and we need to find the horses and set up camp. They won’t be leaving without us fighting them.”

As light returns, I drift in and out of sleep. English sets my leg — too eagerly, I think. The pain is almost welcome, temporarily erasing my thoughts of my daughter and the wicked woman holding her. While I drift in and out of exquisite anguish, I listen to the men’s conversation.

Samuel coughs. “Do you really think the girl’s in there?”

Theo answers. “I got no idea. I believe there’s a child in there. But I don’t know if it’s my goddaughter. If they got her, I’m going to slaughter them.”

“Those are the same monsters that destroyed home,” Samuel notes. “They done brush off our fire like its gnats.”

English nods. “I can’t even begin to imagine what them things are. It’s like hell’s opened and swallowing us whole.”

“Do you think Bets is still alive?” Samuel asks.

“Don’t know. I suppose they’ll keep her around until they’re sure they learned as much as they can from her.” Theo pulls out the tablet. “Look all, I’ve something to show you. Don’t know what to make of it.” I look through the corner of my eye as an image of the area appears in full color. Theo motions with his fingers and the image zooms on the clearing. We can clearly see shadowy images of the grubs, tents, and people. “I’m pretty sure this thing’s showing us what’s happening all around us. I’m getting the hang of using it. From what we can see here, we’ve killed two of their people. There are about ten of those monster things over at the north side. They’re expecting us to attack up there, near where we retreated. At nightfall, we attack from the south behind this tent.” He zooms on one of the tents. A silhouette, undeniably female from the side, is standing, apparently bound to a pole. “This is likely Bets. So, it seems she’s still with us. Samuel, English, you go and release her.” He selects another tent and there, on a mat, is a miniature human. My heart races. “There’s the kid. I’ll go there first and release hell’s fury. I’ll grab her and run back to your position here on the map. We’ll head back out where we came from, then track back to get the horses and Amy.”

“Nothing can go wrong with that plan,” I say hoarsely, trying to be sarcastic but sounding sickly. The men continue talking as I drift back to sleep. I open my eyes to a ghastly brown haze. The men have disappeared and I realize that I must be dreaming again. But this feels strange to me, like I’m really awake. I’m hovering about fifteen feet above the ground and am so very famished. I look to my right and see one of the grubs next to me. Curiously, I’m not frightened. Rather, I feel nothing but cold, lifeless need. I look down and see a gnarled claw where my hand should be, a chunk of grey meat writhing with black beetles in its clutch. I bring the lump to my mouth and savor the rubbery flesh between my teeth, juices coursing down my throat. I should feel revulsion. Instead, my hunger’s replaced by satisfaction and release.

I drift back into darkness and find myself inside the tent I was in last night. Bets is there. I’m talking but it’s not me forming the words.

“Bets, I know how angry you must feel,” the person who isn’t me is saying. Bets is drinking shine and looking flush. “Have another drink, dear. Tell me about your companions and why they don’t appreciate you.”

Bets rolls her eyes. “Thresh, I’m only traveling with them because of Theo. He saved me years ago and I owe him. The woman, Marksman, is unappreciative. I’ve no idea what he sees in her.”

This isn’t a dream. I’m apparently inside of Thresh. The feeling I get from Thresh is strangely similar to that of the grub. Thresh is empty, desperately seeking a balm to soothe her. Bets intrigues Thresh, and Thresh wants her.

Thresh shakes her head, “Bets, you owe them nothing. Stay with me. I can see it in your eyes. You belong here.”

“Thresh, why’d I stay with you? You’re a killer. How much blood do you have on your hands?”

“Does that really matter Bets? I’m going to open a door to something wonderful that makes death inconsequential. I’ll be able to bring all those people back into a world where there is no pain, no toil. They will serve us. Worship us.”

“How’s that possible? You must be as drunk as me.”

“You’ve seen what I can do. I control the grubs. I make the dead walk. You’d be a welcome commander in my army.”

“An army of freaks and deadmen. That sounds delightful, Thresh.”

I feel anger welling up inside of Thresh. She wants to throw her cup at Bets, beat her into submission with her staff. It seems that Thresh has no sense that I’m eavesdropping. I’ve no idea how I got here, so I guess I’m sticking around until I wake up.

Thresh struggles to calm her voice. “Bets, we’re sisters. I feel it. Can you tell me where you got those weapons? I’ve only seen those powerful things in my dreams, when the grubs show them to me. With those in my possession, I’d be unstoppable.”

“We found the guns and explosives in the uplands to the east. They were hidden in a cave.”

“Can you lead me to the cache?”

Bets stands up. “Thresh, I’ve got to rest. I’ll be happy to lead you to the weapons, later.”

Thresh points at a mat on the floor and walks out of the tent into waning daylight. A thick woman and a skinny man with ironwood staffs step in front of the entrance. The grubs turn toward Thresh and kneel. She motions, palms upward, and five of the creatures lumber toward the south side of the camp. This isn’t good. Samuel and English will be pummeled when they attack. I try to pull away from Thresh to warn them, but the more I think about escaping, the more I’m trapped inside of her squirrely mind.

Thresh walks toward two of her men eating something that looks like woodchuck. “Expect them to attack any time now. Drop your food and get on guard.” They both throw their meat in the fire and grab large swords.

Thresh feels different now. Perhaps elation? She’s excited about killing, fighting, conflict. These emotions fill the void in her soul. I shudder at the sensation and something compelling happens — Thresh trembles slightly. I concentrate on lifting my left arm and Thresh’s left arm rises nearly imperceptibly. With some practice, I might be able to really mess with this woman.

Night’s arrived. The men should be attacking soon. Thresh stands in the center of the clearing, surveying her crew. I’m assuming Bets is still in her tent under guard, although the tent isn’t visible from where Thresh is standing. The air implodes and Thresh falls backwards. Smoke curls in from the south part of camp. Two rockets fly in from the woods and hit one of the grubs in the mouth. Rather than exploding, the rockets disappear with a wet, sucking sound. Moist, snot-like goo drips from the holes as they close up. Thresh stands up, dusts off her dress, and smiles. She yells, “Concentrate your effort to the south. Move.”

This means doom for Samuel, English, and Bets, but should allow Theo to easily reach Eliza. More explosions and screams punctuate the night. Thresh rushes for the tent where Bets is being held. She’s about to pull back the flap when a sinewy arm wraps around her neck and forces her to the ground. “You’ll not hold me captive,” Bets growls, as she grinds her foot into Thresh’s chest and then disappears into the dark. I feel myself lifting out of Thresh and I’m back in the tan haze of one of the grub’s minds. It’s lunging at English, who’s on his back looking befuddled. If I could control Thresh, I certainly should be able direct this thing. I tell it to back off, causing it to pause and then step back. English snaps out of his confusion, rolls, and rushes back into the wood line. I then order the thing to turn toward the nearest grub and attack. It obliges, tearing at the creature with its sharp claws. The other grub is clearly surprised, falling back. I tell it to bite the other grub’s neck. It tears out its fellow grub’s throat and the beast disintegrates into a pool of muddy slime. I guide the creature toward the next grub when I feel a strong tug and a painful throb in my head. For a moment, Thresh’s angry face hovers before me and then I’m back in my own body, with Theo shaking me awake.

“Amy, wake up. We’ve got to move. Now.” He looks terrified, worse than the day the town was destroyed. Grunts and howls surround us. Trees snap like twigs. Bets, Samuel, and English are already atop their horses. I search frantically in my haze for any sign of Eliza. She’s not here.

“Theo, where’s Eliza?”

“Amy, I’m so, so sorry. She wasn’t there.” He yanks me onto Phineus, both my head and leg shrieking in protest. We’re surrounded. I’m certain that we aren’t going to make it out of our camp.

“Theo, listen to me,” I groan. “You have to knock me out.”

“Amy, what’s wrong with you?”

“Trust me. I can’t explain now. But this is our only chance.”

He pauses. I scream at him and the last thing I see is Bets swinging a staff at my head.

I regain consciousness in the head of a grub in the dark forest. It takes me a minute to gain my bearings. The grub I’m possessing is a few hundred feet away from our camp. Three other grubs and five men are about to attack us. I see Theo and Bets arguing over my limp body. It seems to me that they have more pressing issues than my welfare. I command the grub to attack its brothers and it lunges forward, leaving large puddles of brown ooze in its wake.

The grub’s actions have caught Samuel’s attention. He motions to the others and they advance toward the gap I created. Thresh’s men, obviously confused by the grub, regain their focus and run toward my companions, which includes Phineus and my body. I tell the grub to defend us. It grabs one of the men between its rock-like teeth and crushes him instantly. I’m about to push the grub forward when a painful tug pulls me out of its mind. I expect to emerge in my broken body, but instead I’m floating in a void.

“Hello Amy. I see that you’ve learned how to control my children.” It’s Thresh, although it’s not her voice. Rather, it is an impression of her thoughts wrapping itself around the non-me. “Instead of forcing them, you need to learn to talk with them. Like the creatures you’ve known in the forest your whole life. They know so much. It’s unfair for you to treat them like blunt weapons.”

“Thresh, you unholy wench.” Apparently I can talk back in this airless, lightless space. “What choice do I have when you attack and kill us? I want my child, now. Or I swear I’ll take a grub, hunt you down, and crush you slowly.”

Thresh laughs. Or more accurately it is an echo of a laugh formed in her warped mind. “You won’t be bothering the grubs anymore, Amy. They’ve discovered your trick and are guarding themselves now. You’ve nowhere to go.”

“I have many more tricks in my bag, Thresh. Watch yourself. I will kill you. That’s a promise.” I’m retreating now, falling down a black tunnel. I open my eyes and am slumped on Phineus, lashed to his saddle. We’re galloping through the woods, each impact of his hooves creating a burst of pain in my leg. I lift my head and see the others around me. Theo and Silius are flanking me, guiding Phineus.

“Sprouter, what the hell happened back there?”

“Theo, this doesn’t seem the best time for a long explanation. Where are we heading?”

“South, as far away from that camp as possible.”

“Do you think Eliza’s okay?”

“From what I know, that woman, Thresh, can’t afford to do anything to her. Between you murmuring in your sleep and what Bets told me, I’d wager that you and Eliza are pretty damn special to her.”

The horses slow. Theo looks toward me sympathetically. “Can you handle this pace for a while? We need to make more distance before morning. Bets learned that the monsters — grubs — can’t move well during daylight.”

I nod my head uncertainly. Samuel trots up beside me. “Welcome back Amy. Why’d you want us to knock you out? That seemed stupid until one of the grubs turned on its own. I’d reckon you got something to do with that?”

“Yes, Samuel. I did. I’ll explain later.”

Chapter 52 – Camping

We finally settle in a sheltered spot at the crest of a subtle hill when the sun is high above the trees. We’re much further south and near the ocean. Gulls soar overhead and the air’s muggy. English and Bets head into the woods to search for breakfast. Samuel’s in the mood for fish and has fashioned a pole. Theo lifts me off of Phineus and gently sets my bruised, broken body into a bed of soft moss under a huge, gnarled willow tree.

“Theo, find some pussy willow. There should be some growing near the stream where Samuel’s fishing. Strip the bark and steep it in hot water. That’ll help me get through some of this pain.”

Theo returns about an hour later with a steaming cup. I sip it and the pain dulls somewhat — enough to allow me to think clearly. “Theo, how far are we from the vessel?”

He pulls out his tablet. A brilliant image of the landscape pops up, even in the bright daylight. “If I read this correctly, I’d suspect that we’re about a two-day ride away.”

“Well, we need to get going.” I try to lift myself up.

Theo chuckles. “You ain’t going nowhere for a while. You’re broken up.”

“Theo, I’ve got a bad feeling about Bets — I’m unsure we can trust her.”

“What’re you talking about Sprouter? Bets did her share of killing last night.”

“Don’t you think she escaped a bit too easily?”

“Bets is one tough girl. She’s on our side.”

“Correction, Theo. She’s on your side, not mine.”

Theo doesn’t argue. “Amy, will you tell me what’s going on? Why’d you ask me to knock you out? The others think you possessed that grub and saved us. Is that true?”

“Well, yes. I have no idea how I did it. But I only seem to be able to do it when I’m out cold. That wanked woman, Thresh, can do it too. And she’s better at it than me. I don’t know whether I’ll be able to pull it off again. Thresh’s figured out that I’m able to do it.”

Theo whistles. “I knew you were special. But that’s damn near crazy. What other surprises have you in store Amy Marksman?”

“I’d like to know Theo.”

Samuel returns with three enormous trout on a stringer. He’s giddy as they sizzle on the fire. Bets and English return with a sack full of freshly picked oranges from a nearby grove. For the first time in ages, I’m genuinely hungry.

“Well, good to see you Missus Marksman.” English sounds genuinely happy to see me up.

“English, thanks for saving my ass once again. You too Bets and Samuel. I really appreciate all you’re doing. Believe me, after what we’ve just experienced, we’ve got an uphill battle.”

Theo hands me a peeled orange. He remarks, “Once we find the others at the spaceship, we’ll have an advantage over Thresh and her goons. I hope we can find some towns that haven’t been destroyed. Or other folks wandering the woods like us who want to fight this evil.”

English squeezes a couple of oranges over his cup. Clean, crisp citrus bursts into the air. “What exactly are we up against, Amy and Bets? You met this Thresh. Other than being completely wanked, what’s her goal?”

The juice of the orange is lightning in my veins. Energy surges to my head. “She’s very powerful and completely dangerous. The fog that destroyed Flip’s village and almost killed you, English, is the same stuff that’s making the grubs. Best I can tell, the mist drifted down out of the mountains and landed in Thresh’s village. She discovered that she could control it and bend it to her will. She may have been responsible for the dead rising in Flip’s village.”

English looks at me warily. “Something’s telling me that you and Thresh got some things in common?”

“Yes, English. I seem to be cut from the same cloth as that crazy woman. Gods help me. You all need to know that my ability as garden tender has always been more than growing things.” I stop to consider how much I should tell them. “All my life, I’ve seen — things. People, unlike us, in the woods around home. They’ve helped us. There were times we’d have starved during winter if it wasn’t for them.”

“You’re telling me that you’ve seen grubs all your life?” Bets hisses.

“No, not at all. They were little green people. Nevermind.”

“Oh, this is intriguing,” Bets says. “Do continue Marksman.”

Samuel jumps to my assistance. “Bets, Amy here’s got a special gift and it’d be best if we respect it. She saved us back there. I don’t know how, but she did. Thresh’s gonna kill us and lots more people if we let her. Amy’s the key.”

“Well, thank you Samuel, although I hope that all the pressure isn’t just on me. My mother, grandmother, and other Marksman women back to the beginning have had this gift — or curse, depending on the way you look at it. It hasn’t helped any of us much lately. The grubs might come from the same place as the green ones. I don’t know. The way that I learned to communicate with the little people seems to work similarly as getting into the grubs’ heads. I also can talk with Thresh in there.”

“What do you mean by in there?” English asks.

“Right before I woke up, it was like I was dreaming, but Thresh was there, telling me that she’s going to stop us.”

“She’s going to be sorely disappointed,” Bets comments.

“I hope so.” I take a bite of orange and consider whether I should tell them about the god Fromer. A voice deep inside my skull says no.

Theo hands me another piece of fruit. “Amy, these little ones from the woods at home. Are they around now?”

“No. I haven’t seen them-“ I consider telling them I saw the green people in Flip’s mountain village and then think better of it. “I haven’t seen one since before the siege on our village. Besides, they’re very tiny and timid. I can’t see them being able to fight. Look all, I’ll do everything I can to fight Thresh and her monsters. But I’m guessing that more of that fog’s moving down the mountain and will help her build her army. If there’s anything that’s going to stop it, the people at the ship will have the answer.”

The trout’s cooked and Samuel doles it out to each of us. The camp’s silent while we devour our food. English finishes first. “What’s up in that mountain making that deathly fog?”

I sigh. “Whatever it is, we can’t let Thresh get to it. We’ve got to get there first and stop it.” If there ever were a time for a visit from Fromer, this would be the time. It’s becoming clearer to me that Thresh is using Eliza as bait for me — something I must resist, fighting every instinct I have. My blood stops at the thought that Thresh might end up raising my daughter if anything happens to me.

Night falls and I’m feeling guilty. The others are taking turns at the watch while I lay here in the center of camp by a small fire. We’ve decided to stay here one night then move haphazardly, trying to cover our tracks as best as possible. We could ride hard toward the space vessel, but Theo’s afraid that this would ruin my leg. He’s right, making me feel even more sheepish and needy. I’m afraid to sleep, given what I might find in there. Thresh is looking for me, I know it. And even if she’s not there, I can’t bear to see my mother gutted by the dogs once more.

English is out of shine, which we’re all experiencing with mixed feelings. He’s lucid and alert, ensuring that he’ll not let us down during watch. On the other hand, he’s morphed into a throbbing asshole. This transformation occurred shortly after he lobbed his last bottle into the woods. We’ll be traveling near a small village tomorrow morning. I suspect he’ll be able to raid their liquor stores. Until then, we have to contend with his nasty comments and hope that he doesn’t wank out.

I close my eyes and clearly see Wenn, father, and Eliza playing on the floor of our home. A fire’s blazing and someone’s playing fiddle in the town commons. I shake myself awake to find Theo stroking my hair and singing a lullaby softly, the same one he often sang to Eliza after Wenn and father disappeared.

“That’s nice Theo, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it Sprouter. Why didn’t you tell me about the green beans in the woods before?”

“You mean beings, right? Well, first I didn’t think anyone would believe me. Only my mother and I could see them. And second, mother told me that they were an important secret that I needed to protect. She never said it straight out, but I think that she was worried that others might try to exploit or corrupt our abilities. From what I can see of Thresh, she was right. There are others out there, Theo.”

“Whatcha mean, others, Amy?”

“Philip, the boy. He was like me and Thresh.”

Theo stops stroking my hair. “Flip? I don’t understand.”

“The reason his village was destroyed was because he could see the little ones like me. He also was able to see the fog and perhaps see into the future. I’m thinking that there is a being moving out there, manipulating Thresh. It thought Flip was a threat and wanted to stop him. Same with Eliza and me. If it wasn’t for you all, we’d be gone. This thing’s evil.”

“You think we’re up against the devil?”

“Hell if I know.” I chuckle dryly at the pun and wince at the pain in my head. “There’s so much out there that we can’t comprehend. Troll made that clear to us.”

Theo strokes my hair again. “Amy, you need to sleep. It’s the only way you’re going to heal.”

“Sleep. Sounds good if you can promise I won’t end up in a grub or fighting with Thresh.”

“At the least, try to rest.” The stroking is rhythmic and irresistible. In a short moment, I’m opening my eyes to morning light. No dreams for me.

“Time to mount up,” Bets announces.

“Shove it up your arse,” English replies groggily. “I’m not going anywhere until I get something to eat.”

Bets tosses a chunk of jerky at English. “Shut it, jack ass. We’ll find you some shine today. I like you better drunk.”

We’re on horseback and my leg’s throbbing. It’s not looking good. I hope the people from space have some medicine. Otherwise, I might be losing that appendage.

We near the small town. Thankfully, there’s no sign that it’s been molested by Thresh and her menagerie. Bets, Theo, and English go in, while Samuel and I hide in a nearby woodlot. Samuel helps me prop against a cottonwood. He searches for some herbs and flowers while I examine the houses and fields below me. The dwellings are tidy and well kept. A few children play near the west wall, while a farmer tills a small plot, his lumpy ox lazily dragging its plow. By this time at home, if home still existed, the harvest would have been completed, the fruits and vegetables preserved, and the winter crops peeking up. Here, so far south and near the ocean, a lucky gardener could plant crops at least three times a year. I’d love to walk down, grab a handful of soil, and feel its goodness crumble between my fingers. Instead, I’m stuck here, with every one of my movements causing considerable pain.

“I’m back, Amy.” Samuel opens his satchel, a cornucopia of flower petals, leaves, seeds, and roots spill out before me. He fetches my mortar and pestle — an heirloom that extends back to my family’s distant past. I take each item, taste it to test its strength, and then add it in careful amounts to the mash. Once finished, I place the paste under my tongue and relief surges to my feet and toes.

“Now, Samuel, if you don’t mind, I’d like for you to search for one more thing.”

“Anything, my girl.”

“At the roots of many of the Crenshaw elms around here you’ll find a small, black fungus. I need you to gather as much as possible. It’ll help me fight the infection in my leg.” Samuel’s off before I turn back toward the bucolic scene before me. The paste’s set in nicely. I’ve concocted enough to keep me feeling comfortable for the next couple of days.

A magpie lands on a branch near me, examining me with its glossy coal eyes. The bird seems as if it knows who I am and what I represent. Perhaps it’s the paste I’ve ingested, but I swear it’s trying to communicate.

“Hi bird. What do you want?”

It cocks its head and my vision blurs. Suddenly, I’m in the air, soaring over the village. Apparently, I can possess magpies as well as insane women and alien beings. Its wings shudder in the warm breeze and I send it down into the town center. Colors swirl as the bird moves its head. Theo’s surrounded by perhaps fifty villagers dressed in brightly colored clothes unlike any I’ve seen in my part of the world. The buildings in this part of the town mimic the clothing, each adorned in wonderful shades of blue, red, and yellow.

“Listen folks, I’m serious about what we’re facing.” Theo’s clearly grabbed their attention. “We have a common enemy and it’s growing and relentless. If a fog of brown mist approaches your town, you’re gonna have to leave mighty fast. Take only what you need.”

As Theo continues his message of gloom, I direct the bird eyes around, seeing no sign of English or Bets. I decide to look for them. The bird flies to the town commissary, where I find English quite drunk, slumped in a bench. Bets is inside haggling with a trim, silver-haired man over a sack of provisions, including a ruby-colored shine I’ve never seen before. The issue is over price. Bets offers him a handful of gems from Theo’s stash and the argument ends. I follow Bets and English as they rejoin Theo.

A town elder, clearly one of the most revered given the fine quality of her dress, stares at Theo, piercing him with a skeptical eye. “Stranger, how are we to believe your stories are true? You be seeming a bit touched, if you ask me.” The crowd laughs. She looks at English, who’s staggering and singing to himself. “The company you’re keeping’s not helping any.”

Theo blushes, clearly needing help. I direct the magpie to fly a few loopy circles around his head and then land on his shoulder. The crowd falls silent. Theo’s surprised but maintains his composure. I fly the magpie to a bale of hay and gather a beakful of dried grass blades and sticks. I drop them on the bare, sandy earth and use them to fashion the word, BELIEVE. Gasps and chatter rise up from the crowd. English regains his sobriety, looking at the spectacle with clear bemusement. They’re ready to listen to Theo. Before I fly the bird back to me, I see Bets shaking her head and I clearly interpret one word on her lips — Marksman.

“Amy, darlin’. Wake up.” Samuel’s clutching a fistful of dry, black fluff. “Is this what you were looking for?”

“Yes, thanks Samuel.” I prepare the material and chew on a small amount. It’ll slow the spread of the infection but won’t reverse it. The magpie hasn’t left. It sits in a nearby tree preening itself. If I end up crippled, perhaps I can keep moving freely via the emancipation of bird brains.

Theo and English return on the heels of the day. English is clearly washed out and heads for bed. Theo saunters up and sits beside me. “Amy, have you got something to tell me?”

“About what Theo? I’ve been sitting here all day.”

“Are you sure about that? Done any flying lately?”

“Yes, I’ve added possession of birds to my list of abilities. You were looking like you were in some trouble down there. Thought I’d help with a little magic.”

“Thanks for that. Everyone’s wary of strangers. And for us to come trotting in with stories about fog and monsters — I’d bet they were ready to jail us. English wasn’t helping either.”

“What happened after I — the bird — left?”

“They supplied us. Bets is still down there finishing loading a cart. We’ll pull it with Flip’s horse. Those people were mighty generous. I hope they survive Thresh.”

“They’ll fare well as long as they don’t have someone like me or Thresh among them. She doesn’t seem to be raising an army, yet. If she does, gods help their young men. Did you make sure to make no mention of us?”

“Of course.”

Bets arrives at the top of the hill with a sizeable cart filled with provisions. She’s in a foul state. I remark, “She seems darker than usual. What happened to her down there?”

Theo sighs. “I think she’s troubled about home. It’s hard for all of us to see this community and realize we lost ours. Don’t you feel the same way?”

“Theo, the difference is that you’re all being dragged to help me find my family while you’ve all lost most of yours. It’s not fair.”

“Sprouter, relax. There’s bigger things afoot for all of us.”

“I’m not sure Bets would agree. Maybe you should tell her it’s okay to leave us.”

Theo huffs. “It’s not okay for her to leave.”

I decide to leave it be.

After we eat dinner in silence, Samuel reappears from the woods. “Where’ve you been, Sam?” Theo asks.

Samuel is agitated, his eyes bulging. “I saw something back there. It, him, was taller than anything I’d seen before. Black, thick skin. And glowing. No breath or hair that I could see. Big, dark eyes — no whites. You reckon it’s got something to do with that Thresh woman?”

My mind races. Could Fromer be here in the woods with us?

“Samuel, are you sure you’re not seeing things out there?” Theo asks. “It’s been a long day. Maybe you saw one of the villagers who’s curious about us.”

“Theo, no. This was something real strange out there. It ran away once I spotted it. Left big footprints.”

“Things just get stranger around here,” Theo muses. “Samuel, I believe you. Sprouter what you thinking?”

“I think that Samuel saw someone. If you’re wondering whether I know anything about it, the answer’s no. I’ve not had any visions of giant black creatures wandering the woods.” I wonder why I’m lying to him. I feel as if Fromer put a spell on me, keeping me from talking about him. Of course, I did tell Wenn at father’s urging. Perhaps I’m worried that Theo will suffer the same fate as father and Wenn if I tell the truth. Fromer might take Theo away from me and that’d be unbearable.

I wonder why Fromer’s here and why he’s suddenly decided to make himself visible. I’m also perplexed and frankly annoyed that he’s not appeared before me. Given what’s happened, he has some explaining to do. He didn’t warn me about Thresh. And I wonder what other dangers await us.

Bets pulls out a flask of grape wine and passes it around. “The villagers make this from grapes grown along the coast. It’s good. I propose a toast to our recent adversary — the black demon of the woods.”

“How certain are we that this thing is bad?” I ask.

“Marksman, how often has anything we’ve encountered been good so far?” Bets responds. “Safer for us to assume the worst. As for hoping for something better, I’ve given up on hope.”

Samuel drains the bottle. “Amy, I’ve got to agree with Bets on this one. We need to be cautious. I’ll take first watch.” He glances at English. “I’ll rouse the lush later tonight.”

I’m not particularly worried about Fromer’s safety, but just in case I say, “You’ll be sure to not fire on the stranger unless he’s dangerous?”

Bets looks at me curiously. “Why’re you so concerned about the safety of a prowler?”

“Just want to be sure we don’t hurt some curious villager. They’ve been mighty generous. And, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve had enough of death.”

“I’ll be careful, Amy. Quit worrying and get to sleep.” Samuel wraps himself in a blanket and flips off the safety of a short range firearm that Troll called a pulse shotgun — a weapon with no mercy. It hums as it powers up.

Morning arrives with no further sightings of Fromer or his twin. We pack up and begin moving slowly along the coastal plain, tracking back frequently to hide our trail. My leg’s tight and throbbing, but the pain’s dulled. The infection is no worse but neither is it receding. I’m running a slight fever and my mouth’s dry sand. Midday, we stop at a new camp, overlooking a deep river valley. We’ll have to find a way across the water tomorrow. If it was spring, the gorge would be swollen with snow melt from the mountains. This time of year, we should be able to find a shallow riffle.

English returns from hunting, uncharacteristically out of breath. “Well, I’ll be damned. Samuel was right. I was tracking a doe when I felt something tracking me. I tried acting coy — you know, like I wasn’t privy to my tracker. It kept following me and I ditched it behind a thicket. Got a good gander at it. Big, black. Head like a bug.” He shakes his head and gulps something that looks like lamp oil. “It looked around and I swear it saw me through the briars. It smiled, pressed a button on its sleeve, and shot straight up in the trees. Scared the crap outta me and I ran right back here.”

“Thresh? You think she’s got something to do with this?” Bets throws her knife at a tree.

“Don’t think so.” Theo pulls out his tablet and examines the area. “I don’t see anyone but us on this thing. Dunno how far it can see, though.”

The magpie returns, landing on Phineus’ back. I’m the only one that seems to notice. I close my eyes and I’m suddenly looking back at myself from the vantage of my horse. My body’s slumped on a blanket. Theo’s nudging me. “Amy, what’s the matter? Wake up.”

I fly the magpie around my body and Theo nods his head in understanding. “Why, hello Amy. I suggest you fly around and let us know whether you see our guest.”

Flying is exhilarating and so natural. I gain altitude and use my heightened magpie senses to search for a giant black beast named Fromer. Not far from our camp, I spot a thick, glowing, steel-black creature sitting in a patch of grass, leaning against a tree stump. He’s munching on something in a silver pack. He looks like Fromer, but is clearly different in stature. His skin is darker and his head’s completely bald. I land the bird on a nearby branch and examine his face and clothing. Fromer’s face had familar, human-like qualities. This creature is more insect-like, although not at all frightening. He’s wearing clothes that look much like Bets’ hunting garb, except it is fashioned from some exotic leather, with metal buttons. He seems happy in a buggy sort of way.

He looks right at me. In a raspy, deep voice, he says, “Hello bird, or should I say, fellow traveler.”

I wonder whether he’s lonesome and taken to talking to animals or whether I’ve been found out. He then appears in the void of my mind — the same place that Thresh and I quarreled what seems like years ago.

“I am called Etch. Who are you?”

“Where’s Fromer?” I ask.

The creature’s silent for what seems to be a lifetime. “Excuse me? Did you say Fromer?”

“Yes, I did. I assume you know who he is. You seem related.”

“Well, I will be ever surprised. This cannot be a coincidence. Fromer is a very old friend. He seems to have been busy. It is time for me to visit you and your companions. We have important business.”

“Before I lead you back to camp, I’d like some answers.”

“I can answer all your questions in time. What’s your name?”

I hesitate. “Amy Marksman.”

“Well, Amy Marskman. I am like you. I can see things that elude others. I can read minds occasionally. And I have the ability to pilot star ships.”

Beautiful blue, white, and yellow stars fill my mind and I know I can trust this creature.

I’m back in the magpie, flitting from tree to tree, and Etch follows me toward our camp. He moves effortlessly across the terrain, as if he would float away if he leapt higher. I’m back at camp in no time, with Etch a few minutes behind. I reluctantly retake my body. The pain’s worsening and the swelling has risen in my leg. I sit up to everyone’s surprise. “Listen to me. The creature’s coming. Don’t be alarmed and whatever you do, don’t fire.” I give Bets a stern look.

Etch appears at the edge of camp, with Samuel and Bets swinging around and pointing their weapons. A shot fires from English’s rifle, as I try to stand and block him. My leg gives out and I fall forward. Strangely, Etch seems unharmed, sparks swirling before his chest. He’s holding a strange, glowing, staff-like weapon with a humming blade on its end. In his thick, throaty drawl, he says, “What kind of greeting is that, my friends?”

Theo dashes in front of English. “What the hell are you doing? Control yourself.”

“Sorry ’bout that, Theo.” English lowers his gun. “We’re all a little jumpy round here. Lucky I’m a shitty shot.”

“You’re shot found its mark.” The sparks fade around Etch as he brushes ash from his chest. “I have special armor that stops projectiles most of the time. If you had chosen the plasma rifle, I would be compromised. What is your name, man?” He stares at English.

“English. And who might you be?”

Etch introduces himself, pulling a chunk of jerky-like food out of a patch. His staff folds in on itself and he tucks it into his belt. “I hope that you do not mind that I eat. Running through the woods and ducking gunfire make me hungry. I am, as you might expect, an alien to your world.”

“Well, that’s pretty obvious,” Bets remarks. “You’re not the first weird thing we’ve seen, including the aliens or whatever they were that killed our family and friends. Convince us not to kill you.”

“Well, thank you for that welcome, young woman. I doubt that you would be able to dispatch me if you tried. He pats the weapon on his belt. It is most unfortunate what is happening to your towns and loved ones. This is not our fault, although we might be able to provide assistance. Your companion, Amy Marksman, may hold a key to our shared dilemma. And we may be able to recover the child from the wayward telepath named Thresh.”

Bets responds. “You speak as if there are more of you. How many friends do you have? And why are you here?”

“We are exiles on earth. I am the pilot of a space vessel called the Fuerst. My companions are human, with the exception of one. You can meet them at our camp, where we can repair Amy’s leg. We should travel quickly and with stealth on our side.”

Chapter 53 – Return of the Fuerst

We follow Etch’s sleek, massive body moving expertly through the thick brush. The valley is oppressive, the air’s soaked with moisture, and I’m seeing creatures I’ve never encountered before — colorful snakes, enormous winged insects, and hundreds of unique, flamboyant birds. The more Etch moves, the better he smells — a mixture of lemon zest and mint.

Our party struggles up the other side of the gorge, following an invisible path through vines and around massive tree trunks. The cart becomes mired in deep mud and after a struggle, we abandon it. Etch assures us that his camp will provide all the amenities and comforts we need. We tear the cart apart and hide the pieces the best we can. English makes certain to stash as much shine as possible in his pack. I see Theo doing the same with pouches of tobacco.

We crest the other side and face a vast forest sloping toward a faint ribbon of blue — the ocean. Etch stops. “The camp lies at the end of the forest by the sea. We have another day’s ride.”

Theo pulls out his tablet and the image of the woods bursts forth. The blue dot marking the vessel that Troll showed us is blinking. Clearly, we have found the people we were searching for.

Etch eyes the tablet. “That’s a nice antique Theo. I have a companion who will love to examine that. It has historical significance.”

Clouds form and a drizzle greets us. Samuel grumbles, “Better be dry where we’re going Etch.”

“Samuel, we have a nice dry cot waiting for you.” Etch chuckles.

“That’d be nice.”

Theo turns Silius around, looking north across the gorge. “Oh my earth,” he mutters. A thin column of inky smoke streams from the distant horizon. “Do you think Thresh found the village?”

Bets grunts. “Everything we touch goes to shit. Why’d you expect those poor people to go unscathed by us?”

“Worse for us, that means Thresh is on our trail,” English says.

“We must move swiftly. We will be safe near my vessel.” Etch motions for us to go forward.

My leg’s numb, which worries me worse than the former pain. More disconcerting is the lack of emotion I’m feeling about everything. Thresh is probably destroying that wonderful town and has my daughter, who may be witnessing the carnage. But my soul’s as unresponsive as my leg.

The day’s a blur to me. I have a wicked fever and find myself phasing in and out of the magpie, my faithful companion since we were at the village. I try to draw strength from somewhere deep inside myself, but there’s nothing there.

Light wanes. However, we approach a white light, similar to noon-day sun, shimmering through the tree line. “We are here,” Etch announces. “There is a protective field around our encampment. I will deactivate it. Follow me through the gap. Do not deviate from the path or you will regret it.”

We follow him in a single line into the trees. Blinding light sears my eyes. The roar of crashing waves nearly knocks me off Phineus. I’ve never been to the ocean and the sensation is glorious. All the pain and worry well up from some kernel deep inside me and I sob uncontrollably. Out of the bright light and salty air appear two impossibly handsome people — a man and a woman dressed in strange, green clothes. They help me off of Phineus and the man touches my bare shoulder with a strange metallic object. I drift into a delicious sleep.

“Hello, Amy. You made it.” Dream Fromer’s sitting in the sand next to me. His boots are off and I see his strangely human feet, toes wiggling. My emotions are now completely unimpaired. “Fromer, I demand that you tell me where you took Wenn and father. And how do I get Eliza back?”

“Foremost, about your little girl, I’m sorry that she’s in the hands of Thresh. You and Eliza will be reunited in time. That’s all I can tell you for now. As for Wenn and your father, I was responsible for their departure before the fall of your village. If they’d stayed, they both would have died. They are far away on the other side of the mountains, but safe for now.”

“I hate you. You’ve destroyed my life and dragged all these poor people in with me.”

“Amy, do you really hate me? You’re looking for an outlet for your anger. Thresh and her allies are to blame for this. I’m here to help the best I can. Let me try to explain what’s going on. Please walk with me.”

I walk effortlessly in this dreamscape, marveling at my surroundings. The waves wash on the beach, white foam curling in emerald pitch. We turn away from the water and there she is, the Fuerst. It stretches into the distance, its black surface gleaming in the moonlight. It looks a little like the shiny carts we saw in Troll’s compound, with a large window in the front and thin wings extending along its sides. Along its belly are large cylinders arranged in neat, concise rows. A pipe with stair steps hangs underneath the ship’s right wing.

Fromer puts his thick hand on my dream shoulder. “What do you think of Etch’s vessel? Etch and I have long been friends. I used to command the crew of this ship when I was young. It’s difficult to explain how this ship travels through space. But it can allow us to travel between here and almost any of those stars.”

“The moon as well?” I ask.

“Of course we could.” He smiles sadly. “Although we might not want to go there right now.”

“Why’d the lights go out — on the moon?”

“A war has broken out in space, including the moon. The people living there have abandoned the surface, for now. I’m afraid the fighting will spread to here soon.”

“What’s the fighting over?”

“What are all wars fought over? Resources, power, access. There are two factions, who you will unfortunately meet in time. One government, now called the Institute, has been in power for more than a thousand years and was responsible for the exile of your people on earth. The other is a group of folks called the FRT that want to bring down the Institute and impose their own rule on space. The FRT has long been my nemesis.” He growls. “The only thing protecting earth and your people from both of them is fear of a contagion that may have winked out a thousand years ago.”

“Troll told us that some bad people, terrorists, released something that destroyed most of the machines.”

“Yes, Amy. The circumstances are murky at best. Some people released a horrible substance on earth that did not kill other people. Rather, it killed the technology on which they depended — a clever ploy that was far more damaging than any could ever imagine. Maybe the terrorists wanted earth to return to a simpler condition. Whatever their motive, the weapon consumed communications and power networks on the planet. It worked like the infection in your leg, spreading quickly. The rest of the humans and other creatures, including my species, in space decided it would be much too dangerous to allow anything from the surface back into space. So, the entire planet and its survivors, including your ancestors, were quarantined indefinitely.”

“Does this infection remain?”

“That’s a good question. It hasn’t affected this ship or the various gadgets that Etch and his companions have been using, thankfully. They wouldn’t last a week without their technology.” He laughs. “Troll scanned you and your friends when you descended into its compound. The only reason Troll allowed you in was because you were not contaminated. I’d guess the weapon, whatever it is, still exists dormant on the planet. But where and to what extent — that’s an unanswered question.”

“Why do people want to come back here to earth?”

“Some of the reasons are mundane — recolonization, development, and exploitation of the planet’s considerable resources. However, there are a few people out there that have discovered a miracle here on the surface. Would you like to climb into the Fuerst to see more?”

“Sure, but what has it to do with the miracle?”

“Let’s see.” He leads me up the steps into the ship. It’s dimly lit and cramped. Padded, black benches line the walls. We walk forward through a small doorway into a large room with a single seat. The beach and waves are visible through the window in the front. “How does this room make you feel, Amy?”

“Strangely familiar. Comfortable.” The room allows me to feel a connection with many other beings like me, far beyond this world. We’re all looking at the stars, but from behind them. It is an odd sensation that’s impossible to understand. Yet, it seems natural to me.

“Amy, you’re among a very rare group of beings in the universe. We call them pilots. Etch is one. With the proper training, pilots are able to navigate these ships through the unimaginable emptiness of space. Unfortunately, Thresh is also among your kind. This room is a pilot house. It works to magnify your ability and to navigate the ship.”

He jumps in the seat. “The technology the pilots use takes advantage of your ability to see things that most of us can’t see or experience. Some call it telepathy. It’s really just a way of perceiving the energy that’s created by life. Thinking and feeling are just other forms of energy and you can harness them. I don’t expect you to understand all of this, although with time, you will.”

I’m confused. “So, what does this have to do with the miracle here on earth?”

“Across the mountains is a place where the heat contained inside the earth bubbles up toward the surface. It acts like a magnifying glass for tiny organisms that live there. They naturally do what this ship does — provide a way to travel long distances by opening a hole in the universe. In it, you can see all of creation and travel among the planets, stars, and perhaps other places as well. But there’s a catch. Someone with a natural connection to the earth and the innate skills of a pilot needs to be there to control access to the portal or doorway that they create.”

“So, Mister Fromer, you’re telling me that I’m that person?”

“You or Thresh. There may be others, but I don’t know who they are. If Thresh reaches the portal and learns how to control it, this wouldn’t bode well for earth or for the worlds beyond it.”

I think of Flip. He’d never have been able to handle the job. Now Fromer, the god or alien, has dumped the responsibility of protecting earth and other worlds on my shoulders. The responsibility of tending the garden overwhelmed me. I hope the infection in my leg kills me so that I don’t have to face this anymore. And I wonder what this means for Eliza. Will she have to inherit the burden from me someday?

I consider the creatures ravaging the countryside — that destroyed my home. I ask, “What about the fog and the grubs? Where do they come from? Did they arrive on a ship like Etch and the others from space? Do they have a side with the Institute or the other group, the FRT?”

“No. They’re seeping through the doorway across the mountain, like pus from a wound. There are other things beyond the doorway that are not of this time and space. They’re jealous of life and want out. They had a taste of freedom on another world and they’re bringing some of what they discovered with them.”

“The brown fog?”

“Yes, the fog was created by a human — a brilliant scientist — and he used it on another planet, a place where life had not yet arisen. He intended for the mist to help bring life to that world, like seeds and compost for a garden. Instead, the creatures that exist beyond the portal found this fog, stole it, and now are using it to possess living things and roam earth. They mold it like clay to do their bidding. And, I’m afraid they’ve found a friend in Thresh.”

“So, the fog can be used to make monsters and raises the dead?”

“Precisely, Amy. And more of it is pumping out of the portal each day. It needs to be stopped.”

I feel the familiar tugging and Fromer vanishes. I open my eyes and am lying on a comfortable cot in a small room. The handsome, dark-haired man I saw when we first arrived at this camp is working at a small table and hasn’t noticed that I’m awake. My leg hurts again, which I take as a promising sign. I shift and the man turns around.

“Good to see you awake.” He smiles. “I’m Grey. You’re leg’s healing. We did the best we could. You’ll be able to keep it, but you’ll have a bit of a limp. We only gave you a mild sedative — didn’t expect you to pass out like that.”

“Where are the others?”

“They’re fine Amy. We’re trying to piece together what’s happening out there.”

“I need to talk with Etch.”

“I’ll go get him.”

The dark alien arrives. “Good to see you feeling better Amy Marksman.”

“I just saw Fromer again.” I tell him about my experience, while he stares at me with his thoughtful, buggy eyes. He’s eating something that looks like bread but smells like rancid cheese.

After I’m finished talking, he wipes his hands on his pants. “I suspected that there was something afoot here on the surface. Another door, very interesting. The other pilots will sense it with time. We need to get you to that place quickly. There, you will find your husband and father. And we will need to determine how to control the opening or destroy it.”

“What do we do about the fog?”

“I hope that we can stop it by controlling the portal. The beings that are behind this exist beyond our universe — all this. They need the fog to survive in this reality as the beasts you call grubs and spread. If we close the door, they will be unable to control it.”

“And Thresh?”

Etch grumbles. “I will tear her apart.”

I shake my head. “Only if you can get past me. I get first dibs.”

Grey peeks his head in the door. “Do you mind if I interrupt?”

Etch stands. “I think we are finished for now.”

Grey hands me a strange piece of food. “It’s called a sandwich. Two slices of bread and one of my favorite things, peanut butter. Here, take a bite. You need to heal up.”

I’d heard of peanuts but could never get them to grow in our soil. I take a bite and the mixture of salty, sweet, and gooey richness makes my head spin. “Thanks,” I mutter, my mouth glued together.

Grey smiles and hands me a sweating glass of milk.

I wrinkle my nose. “How’d you get this? I didn’t see any cows around.”

“When’d you get a chance to look around?” He asks.

I hesitate. “Just assuming.”

“Well, we can generate basic food materials using raw materials from the surroundings. No cows necessary.”

I think about Troll’s compound. The same must have applied to the food and drink it provided to us. I suppose I was naive to think the robots were tending a farm for us. “What’s a raw material?” I ask.

“Just about anything can be reconfigured. Most simply, our waste.”

“By waste—” I’m afraid I won’t like the answer.

“Leftover food, excrement, and urine are the most basic ingredients. But even that stuff runs out of key nutrients. The rest we find in the fields and the ocean or grow in our garden. Etch occasionally hunts and fishes for us as well.”

My appetite wanes. I push the milk away. “You eat compost.”

Grey laughs. “You’ll get used to it. I am the one who grows the crops. I’ll show you in the morning.” He gathers a robe and gestures to me. “Why don’t you try out your leg?”

“It’s broken. I can’t use it yet. It’ll take months to mend properly.”

“On your own, perhaps. However, basic field medicine always includes a kit for annealing bones. Come on.” He reaches to me.

I sit up and swing my legs over the cot. Grey holds my hands and I stand. I’m a little shaky, but my sore leg holds. Grey drapes the robe around my shoulders.

“Come on out for a bit. It’ll help you heal by keeping active, with caution of course.”

We leave the small building and enter the courtyard of a small, makeshift compound of metallic buildings. The Fuerst is in the distance and the ocean is only a couple of hundred yards away. My dream self didn’t notice the wonderful salt air and warm breeze. The artificial light is dimmer, less harsh than it was when we entered earlier. “How long was I unconscious?”

Grey whispers, “This is late evening of the third day.”

I’m about to voice my astonishment when we round the corner of a curious, humming building. There, sitting around a merry fire are Theo, English, Samuel, Bets, and Etch. Theo, English, and Samuel wear the strange clothing that Grey’s donning. Bets is still in her hunting clothes, stretched out, warming her bare feet by the flames. Sitting next to her is a muscular young woman with a worn, kind face. Bets exclaims, “Marksman, you spend more time out cold than awake. Welcome back to the living once again.”

“Good seeing you on the mend, Amy,” Samuel grins. He’s trimmed his beard and looks ten years younger.

Theo hands me a cup of white liquor. “This is Grey’s special sauce. Go easy on it.”

Grey takes the cup from me. “Until the meds cycle out of your system, best not to tempt fate. Amy, I think you’re acquainted with everyone here except Minns.”

The woman stands up and extends her hand. “Pleased to meet you. They tell me that you’re a pilot, though you don’t know it. I’m not sure to tell you whether you’re fortunate or cursed. Perhaps a bit of both.”

Etch growls. “Minns, she has a gift. Amy, forgive her rudeness.”

Minns continues grasping my hand. “We have a bit of a history with another pilot that’s all. It’s one of the reasons we’re stranded here.” She lets go and sits back down next to Bets.

“You’ve created a small village here. How do you remain hidden?”

Minns answers. “Smoke and mirrors. The protective field you’ve entered hides us from view overhead. We are only seen by ships in space when we want to be found. We’re in exile from the rest of our kind you see.”

“Let me try to explain.” Grey sits in a strange canvas chair. “We discovered something that’s considered tempting to some factions up there.” He points to the sky. “It was on a planet that my father was trying to make suitable for life and eventual colonization. You know what a planet is?”

I think of Troll and its education. “Yes, I do.”

“Well, things went horribly wrong. We called it planet C9 — it opened up a hole of sorts. All kinds of nasty creatures came out.”

“In a brown fog that your dad created and the monsters highjacked.” I say confidently.

Grey seems surprised at my ability to make the connection. “Well, yes. The hole provided a potential way to travel all around space, but it was unstable and eventually destroyed.”

I continue. “And your people don’t want you spreading the news because they may look for another door of this sort? Were you with the Institute?”

Grey’s gaping mouth betrays his continued surprise. “Yes and yes. The Institute did not want us to let others know. Hence, our exile in the one place where people are least likely to look — the one technologically quarantined planet in the known universe.”

I turn to Etch. “Time to tell them what we know.”

We explain my dream, omitting Fromer’s participation. Both Etch and I feel that it is our secret. As I finish talking, a female voice asks, “Is there another portal here on earth?”

Grey stands. “Hi Gorian. Amy and Etch are talking spooky pilot stuff. Yes, it seems that the phenomenon that occurred on C9 is cropping up here.” Gorian’s the woman who accompanied Grey when we first arrived. She’s fair haired, with flawless skin. Her hands are covered with grease, which she’s wiping away on a cloth.

“How’d it happen?” Gorian takes a sip from Grey’s cup.

Minns laughs. “Gorian, you’re never satisfied with things to just happen. You’ve got to work all the angles.”

“Forgive me for being curious Minns. What’re we going to do about this?”

Grey turns to me, grinning. “Gorian is our engineer. She’s responsible for fabricating this compound and keeping us comfortable in our exile.” He squeezes her shoulders. “And she keeps me sane.”

Minns groans, while Etch chuckles. He’s eating some kind of fish now. I’m unsure whether it’s been cooked.

Grey looks at Theo. “I think we need some time to interpret what’s facing us and what we need to do.” Theo nods.

“It’s time for me to ask some questions,” I say. “Are there others we haven’t met?”

Grey sits back down. “There were originally a large number of us on the planet C9. It’s hard to explain, but one of our colleagues, another pilot, lost her way.”

“Went wankers from the sounds of it,” English interjects.

“Melat was her name. She collapsed the planet with her ship called the Raven.” Grey smacks his palms together and makes a whooshing sound. I’m more than shocked. How can something so massive be destroyed? Grey continues, “Gorian, a nauron named Iggy, Minns, my uncle, and I were the only survivors. Etch rescued us.”

“Where’s this nauron and your uncle?” I ask.

“My uncle passed a few months ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He never quite recovered from some injuries. Iggy, well, he or she, we can never quite decide what sex he prefers, jumped in the ocean a month ago and we haven’t seen him since.”

“So, a nauron’s a fish?”

Gorian jumps in. “More like an intelligent, human-sized frog. We suspect he, she, went off to reproduce.”

“How’s that possible? Are there more of its kind in the ocean?”

Etch laughs heartily. “No, his — or her — species can reproduce on its own. No sex needed.”

Kind of like some plants, I suppose. I’m sleepy and it’s showing. Grey gathers his things and shows me back to my beloved cot. I’ll learn more in the morning.

Chapter 54 – Thresh

I open my eyes and I’m dismayed to find myself back in Thresh. She’s in a dark room, with a blindfolded and bound man in the corner. Thresh is tired and angry. She’s in the village we’d visited a few days ago. The man is dressed in blue and white robes with thin alabaster skin. I recognize him as the town elder.

“Where did they go? This is your last chance.”

He croaks, “They headed south. The man, Theo, could talk with birds. He warned us of you and your evil. You will not prosper in this world.”

“Did they tell you what they were looking for?”

“No. They did warn us of you, thankfully. As your army descended on us, most of our townspeople were able to escape thanks to them. You’ll get no help from the rest of us. May your soul go to hell.”

“No need for your assistance anymore.” Thresh pulls out a short, thick staff and beats the man’s head. He screams once and then falls silent. I watch in revulsion from Thresh’s eyes, unable to do anything as the man’s head is reduced to bits of skin, bone, and brain.

She steps out into the cool night, the crisp air wrapping around her like a blanket. There are more grubs. Apparently, the fog is gathering around her. She has more men and women with her — recruits from nearby towns, I’d guess. The beautiful, colorful houses are now smoking hulks. Bodies are arranged in piles around the town commons, legs and arms entwined.

I feel something like elation welling up inside of her. She lifts her hands and fog oozes in from the shadows. It swirls around the bodies and they begin to tremble and twitch. One stands and then another. Before long at least a hundred corpses are assembled before her. I can hear her whispering to them and they shuffle toward her. The living people in the courtyard are clearly terrified. Only the thought of being torn to pieces by the grubs prevents them from running in terror.

“My children,” she says lovingly to the slumped, swaying bodies. “I have a job for you. Go south from here and look for the one who is like me. “When you find her, kill her companions and bring her back to me.” It’s not the dead minds she’s directing but the ooze animating them. The fog’s using the sad, empty shells as a way to transform and hunt.

We need to close that portal.

The bodies begin shuffling into the darkness, a symphony of soft moans and groans purring from their dead lips. As they move along the coast, they’ll be sure to encounter our camp. Whether they’ll be able to penetrate the invisible fence that Etch has fashioned, I don’t know. But once they find us, Thresh will know where to go. And the grubs are relentless.

Thresh glares at her ragged soldiers, who are clearly mortified. “As you can see my loyal companions, you can serve us even if you’re dead. So, do not fail me. Now, go and search for those people who escaped the town. Bring them back to me. It doesn’t matter whether they’re alive or dead.”

The men and women gather their packs and horses, scrambling like crabs on the beach by the Fuerst. Within moments, they vanish in the haze of the dawn’s light. I don’t want to be here in this woman’s head any longer but I can’t seem to tear myself away. The sensation is similar to the suffocating fear I felt while descending into Troll’s dungeon.

Thresh enters one of the few houses that haven’t been destroyed. It’s an oddly cheerful building, with a light pink exterior, blue shutters, and an expansive porch. Oil lamps light the threshold. She closes the door behind her and sighs, as if the horrors she’s inflicted are simply the burden of a hard day’s work. A slight, young woman in a light blue dress greets her cautiously. She’s clearly frightened but trying desperately to hide her emotions. I realize that this woman is the owner of the house and that she used to have family here. She’s now alone.

Thresh speaks in a tone I’ve never heard from her — one of carefree happiness. “Is she awake yet?”

“Yes ma’m. She’s eating some mush and cream.”

They’re speaking of Eliza. My entire being expands with anger. I want to stab Thresh and yet I’m trapped inside her mind. For a moment, she pauses, sensing my strong emotion. I need to control myself to avoid being found out.

And there’s my beautiful little girl, looking at Thresh with her clear blues eyes and cereal dripping from her face. She smiles and says, “Hi mommy.”

A thread deep within me snaps. I push my entire being into Thresh and find myself occupying her completely. Thresh is gone and I’m standing in that kitchen with my daughter. I’m expending every ounce of energy to stay this way.

I see Thresh’s reflection in the woman’s eyes. Thresh is still wearing the tattered red dress, her hair braided down the side. Her eyes are wild but blank. I make Thresh say, “Stab me, now. In the heart.”

The woman in blue steps back, trembling.

“Do it. Before Thresh returns.”

The woman is motionless. I search the room for a knife, see a butcher’s blade, and lunge toward it. I’m about to plunge it into Thresh’s chest when I’m feeling tugged away — I’m stirring in my cot back at camp. I can no longer control Thresh’s arms but can still speak. I turn toward the woman. “Listen to me. I’m Eliza’s mother in Thresh’s body. I don’t know how long I have.”

The woman stammers, “If this is a trick, I’ll soon be dead like the rest of my family. I’m Magarat.”

“Magarat, protect my daughter, please. I’ll come get her and rescue you as well. Be strong.”

The tugging grows stronger. I stare at Eliza, who’s oblivious and making quite a mess. The knife drops from Thresh’s hand and the pull’s irresistible. The room fades and I’m in my cot, with Gorian standing over me with her impossibly large eyes. “Hey there,” she says.

I look at her, shaking. “I’ve got to kill that woman.”

Chapter 55 – Iggy’s Return

After the dream-travel, I’m agitated and not at all hungry. Gorian’s been told to feed me breakfast and I’m not complying. Her pretty, flawless face is contorted with frustration. This is a woman who’s not used to resistance.

“Amy, for mars-sake, you’ve got to eat. Grey says that it’s critical for you to get healthy.”

“Woman, I just saw my child for the first time in months. She called that lunatic Thresh her mother. I’ve got to stop her.”

Gorian purses her lips, looking doubtfully at me. “You were just having a vivid dream. All this stress and Grey’s drugs are affecting your sleep patterns.”

“So, you don’t believe I can travel outside my body and occupy others?”

“Scientifically impossible. The only way to transmit neurological electrical signals is through some transmission system like in the pilot house of a starship. You’ve not got the technology to do it.”

I frown and push the food away. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. But you’d better get used to the idea that I do more traveling in my sleep than awake. It’s pretty damn miserable. I’d trade it with you anytime.”

“Let’s make a deal. I’ll believe you if you eat something.” She pushes the tray back toward me.

“Please don’t be condescending. I’ve got pressing news. They’re coming.”

Gorian raises an eyebrow. “Who exactly might that be?”

“Thresh used the fog to raise the dead. They’re acting as scouts for her. They’ll find this camp in a matter of days. And, although your fence is impressive, something tells me it’ll be no match to the fog and her grubs. They’ll break through and kill you all.”

Gorian’s silent, obviously spooked by what I’ve just said. She holds her chin and looks out the window, the light shining on her pale hair. She muses, “Perhaps there’s something here on the planet that’s acting like a transmission network for telepaths. I wonder…” She claps excitedly and runs out the door.

I shuffle out of the door after her into the blazing glare of full sunlight. Etch’s sitting on the edge of a table talking with a grey, slick creature with bulging eyes and webbed hands. It’s dressed in the same green material that Gorian and Grey are wearing. Three smaller, unclothed versions of the creature are playing in a puddle in the shade of a nearby building. Etch turns toward me. “Amy, good morning. This is Iggy. He returned last night, with his children. Are they not adorable?” He laughs and puts his hand on the nauron’s shoulder.

The being extends its hand to me. I shake it, discovering that the extremity is cool and indeed slimy. A strange voice, similar to Troll’s, says, “Glad to meet you Amy. I apologize for having to use this device to speak. My language’s very different than yours and I need it for you to understand me.”

“That voice — it’s yours, not a machine?”

Etch responds. “Iggy, Amy had an unfortunate experience with an early model of a human machine interface. She is not used to artificial voices.”

Iggy smiles, showing his toothless jaws. His eyelids droop, slowly lubing his eyes. “Yes, I’m quite organic. As you can see, there are more of me now. They will be unable to speak for quite some time, until they mature. At that time, we will teach them to use transmitters as well.”

“What in the hell is going on here? What are those things splashing in the puddle?” Bets steps out of her cabin, scratching her head. Theo and Samuel follow. They’re equally perplexed.

“Meet Iggy,” I say.

“And his children,” Etch adds.

“Where are English and Minns?” Grey appears with a platter of steaming cakes. “Breakfast will get cold.”

Samuel snorts. “They was drinking brandy until the wee hours. Won’t see them ’til noonday.”

Grey’s face droops. He’s genuinely disappointed.

While the group eats, I explain my dream. They seem to believe me, unlike Gorian. Even Grey barely touches his food while I recount the gruesome images.

Theo’s clearly angry. “What’s that woman doing to poor Liza? Can we take this ship and kill Thresh and rescue that poor girl?”

Etch responds. “We do not understand the organic matrix — the fog — well enough to know whether we can defend the Fuerst from the beings you call grubs.”

“But, I thought you said Grey’s dad invented it?” Bets asks.

Grey swallows a bite of egg. “When he released the substance on C9, he didn’t leave us any records of it. We didn’t have enough time to get a sample before Melat took the planet with her.”

“Well, we’d better learn quickly how the fog works given that several hundred rotting dead people are lumbering toward us,” I say too loudly, my voice cracking.

Grey looks at me with concern. “Amy, would you like to see my garden while we all think about our next steps?”

I know Grey’s trying to calm me down and to keep me from agitating the others. “Yes, Grey.”

“Great Amy. I say we all reconvene here at lunch and decide what to do next. If anyone sees Gorian, please let her know what’s going on.”

“She already does,” I murmur.

Grey and I walk up a worn path into the uplands overlooking the ocean. We enter a large field full of strange plants that I’d never seen before. The soil here’s all wrong for the area. I kneel down and crumble it between my fingers. Rather than dry sand, it’s rich, loamy, and full of moisture. “How’d you do this?”

“In my previous life, before we went into hiding, I was a kind of farmer called a terraformer. My job was to cultivate planets to make them suitable for people. With the right tools, I can reconfigure the plant life to increase its productivity. That’s what I’ve done here with the crude tools on the Fuerst and with Gorian’s engineering skills.”

“Grey, I barely understand what you’re saying. But what I’m seeing before me is an abomination to earth.”

“What?”

“Cultivating is about working with the earth to make food. What you’re doing is completely trampling it to meet your selfish needs. It’s no wonder your kind was exiled from the planet. Is anything here natural, of this earth?”

Grey’s crestfallen. “Why, yes. Many of the plants here were cultivated on earth before the end of our era.” We walk over to a small stand of plants that look like maize. However, the stalks are small, slightly luminescent, and loaded with ears of purple kernels.

“Grey, is this supposed to be corn? Nothing about it is like the varieties I grow.”

“Well, we’ve engineered it using genes from several planets. A single one of these stalks provides enough raw materials to feed three of us for a week. Can you do that with your garden? Speaking of which, the corn you grow comes from a weed that was cultivated thousands of years ago and has no semblance of its original self. It’s as alien to earth as my plants.”

“What about this?” I’m carefully holding a plant that resembles a furry toad.

Grey produces a knife and splits it open. The smell of shine nearly knocks me back. “This plant produces alcohol, a key ingredient for a lot of the polymers we need to fabricate and repair our tools. Pretty cool, eh?”

“Again, Grey, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. This plant seems to make a strong drink — something English would like. Does this come from earth?”

“Oh no. This originated on Etch’s planet, zenat. We’ve modified it to accept the different wavelengths of the earth’s sunlight. On zenat, it would be blue, not green.”

“So, you’re telling me that you’ve brought a completely alien plant — species, I think they’re called by your kind — to earth. Seems to me that this may upset the balance of things. It’s no different than the brown fog to me. Nothing good can come from it. It’ll spread and destroy earth life.”

“Oh Amy. You needn’t worry about escape. We’ve the technology to keep things under control. I think it’s wrong for you to compare us to the creatures trying to dominate earth from the portal.”

“Say what you want, but I disagree. You can learn much from me about how to harness the natural power of this world. You don’t need to use alien wares to suit your needs.”

Grey’s frustrated. “Well, we depend on it now. I’d like to see your garden someday. I’m sure you can teach me many things.”

“I doubt Thresh left any of my garden for us to visit.” The thought of home makes me sick and forlorn.

Grey gingerly puts his hand on my shoulder and I pat it. We spend the rest of the morning sauntering about Grey’s garden. I worry that I’ve been too hard on him. I do find the many plants he shows me fascinating. He knows so much about other worlds and so little about earth, the home of his ancestors. Perhaps, when all of this is over, I can teach him how to appreciate his home.

We rejoin the others at lunch. Iggy’s offspring are in the ocean grazing for food while Iggy sits at a table spraying itself with seawater. Gorian’s returned, talking with Minns and Etch animatedly. Bets sharpens her sword while Samuel sips on a glass of cider. English naps under a small tree, snoring softly.

Gorian pulls out a tablet similar to the one that Theo lifted from Troll’s compound. She hits a button and the image of another ship like the Fuerst appears in mid-air, except it is black as pitch. “I think I may know where the Raven, Melat’s ship, is. It’s right here on earth.”

She’s met by silence from all of us except English, who’s risen from his self-imposed unconsciousness. “How can that thing that smashed a planet still be around?”

Etch answers. “The Raven was not destroyed. It is difficult to explain. When it began to travel through space, it dragged the planet C9 with it. The ship survived but the planet, of course, did not. Think of our space vessels as drills that tunnel through space from one side to another. The planet tried to follow through the hole, but was too large and broke into pieces.”

Gorian’s clearly excited and seems about to burst. “I have no idea how the Raven got here on earth but it’s likely responsible for the activity we’re seeing.”

“What about Melat?” Grey asks.

“I would have sensed her presence while in the pilot house of the Fuerst. Any time a pilot is in their ship, it transmits their location to other pilots. This is an essential navigation tool, keeping us from crashing into each other.” Etch is perplexed.

Iggy’s tinny, mechanical voice asks the question we’re all pondering. “Gorian, where’s the Raven located relative us?”

“Within shuttle range in the foothills of the mountains, due east of here. We can get there in less than an hour flying at normal velocity.”

Grey strokes the back of his neck. “Whoa, we need to pause here and think about the dangers. What if Melat is still there in the ship? She can direct her weapons at the shuttle.”

“Iggy’s the best shuttle driver we know. He can evade any fire. Also, we can stay out of range of the vessel until were sure it’s safe to investigate. My sensors suggest the Raven is disabled and likely not a threat.” Gorian’s already packing her bag.

Anger wells up inside me. “Are we losing our focus here? We need to find the portal and stop it, not look for your long lost pilot friend.”

Etch pounds his fist. “She is no longer my friend. She betrayed all of us.”

“I have a hypothesis,” Gorian says. “The Raven is not completely powered down. I’m wondering whether it might be acting as an amplifier for you pilot-types out there. This may be fueling Thresh’s killing spree and allowing you to travel in your sleep. If we shut it down, then Thresh and her monsters might go away.” She smiles hopefully.

“Then, by all means, we leave now,” I say, heading to my room to gather my things.

Grey stands up. “No way are you going Amy. You’re our only asset.”

“Hell to you Grey. I’m going or I’m walking toward the dead people to get my daughter back.”

We’ve decided that Gorian, Iggy, English, Bets, and Theo will fly with me in the shuttle. Etch, Samuel, Grey, Minns, and the children of Iggy will remain at camp to await our return and look out for shuffling dead people.

The shuttle’s tucked in the rear of the Fuerst, looking a lot like the winged boxes I saw crashing into buildings in Troll’s moving pictures of the great fall. This memory gives me pause as I walk into its gaping door. Could it be possible that Iggy will lose control of the machine to the Trolls out there?

The interior of the shuttle is dark, illuminated by blue, green, red, and yellow lights. We’re cramped in the back while Iggy and Gorian sit in chairs in the front, pressing buttons and murmuring to each other. I freeze at the voice in the space. “Please prepare for departure. Stay seated.” It sounds identical to Troll.

“We need to leave,” I shout. English and Bets react similarly, jumping and standing at the door.

Theo laughs. “Calm down you three. This isn’t Troll, is it Gorian?”

“If you mean the HM interface you encountered at the munitions storage, nope. This is just the HM for the shuttle. It must have a similar voice synthesizer.”

“Thank the gods,” Bets sighs sitting down.

The shuttle floats out of the Fuerst and ascends into the sky. I feel the same lightness I did soaring in the magpie. Theo, Bets, and English stare out of the portholes in amazement. For a moment, a glimpse of a young girl passes Bets’ face. It suits her.

The ocean is so impossibly large from this vantage. Crests of waves wink at me. The water knows whom I am and what I need to do. Iggy banks the shuttle and the ocean recedes as the mountains beckon in the distance. The cabin’s silent, with the exception of an occasional wet sneeze from Iggy.

“Catch a cold in the ocean?” Gorian hands him a wipe.

“I seem to have contracted a virus. Perhaps it was the stress of reproducing. I’ll revive soon, although a good torpor would do me good.”

Gorian laughs. The rest of us haven’t a clue what the frog man or woman is talking about. Gorian catches her breath and says, “So, my friends, I have some things to tell you about Melat before we approach the Raven, if it is really there. First, Melat was one of the best pilots I’ve known. She changed after we had an accident dropping from one location of space to another. We think she was influenced by the powers in the government to abort our mission. Or something unknown got to her in infraspace. Regardless, she found out about the portal on Planet C9 and she blew it up. We barely escaped. Oh, infraspace is the place in between space and time. It’s impossible to explain without math.”

Bets makes the connection, even given Gorian’s gobblygook language. “Should we be concerned that this Melat woman is here to do the same thing to earth, drag it into that infra … space, portal and all?”

Iggy wheezes. “Perceptive Bets. This thought has crossed our minds. Of course, Etch could not sense her, so perhaps she’s dead or incapacitated. It’s better for us to assume she’s alive, just in case.”

“Great news.” Theo’s flushed. “We’ve got Thresh sending dead ones to us and killing innocents and now you tell us we got to deal with doomsday? We had peaceful lives and now all this. You’re all bringing the horrors of the ancient ones with you.”

Gorian shrugs. “Seems to be the way of things, don’t you think? Didn’t you want things to be better? Not get sick so much? Have more comfort? Keep a constant supply of your beloved tobacco? Keep your loved ones around longer? That’s what makes all this happen. People want more and more. And it just gets more complicated.”

English is strangely sober. “The portal. It’s a test for us, isn’t it?”

“Who’s giving the test?” Iggy asks in his machine voice.

“I dunno. Like, a temptation to us. We need to decide what we want to use that portal for.”

Gorian turns in her chair. “Are you suggesting that someone has a plan for us? Like a god?”

English responds, “Sure. Don’t ya believe in gods? There’s more to all this, do you not think?”

“Oh English. We’ve seen things that we can’t explain. But that doesn’t mean there’s no explanation. I don’t believe that any of this is predetermined. And no, there are no gods. Only other beings like us.”

English retreats to silence and stares out the window.

Theo plops down next to me. “How’s it going Sprouter?”

“We were living a simple life and then — all this. I want my family back Theo.”

“We’ll get them back. I miss them too.”

He touches my hand and Bets glares.

“What if we don’t?”

“Then I’ll always be with you.” Theo gazes a bit too long at me — I feel a warmth in my gut that I can’t suppress. I pull my hand away.

“We’re approaching. Iggy slow it down and descend.” Gorian dims the lights in the cabin, while the shuttle hums lightly. She turns to us. “That sound’s coming from a protective field. If the Raven’s passively listening for us, then it won’t detect us.”

Iggy clarifies, “It’ll make us invisible to Melat. We hope.”

The shuttle gently glides into a thick forest of pine trees. Iggy expertly weaves it in between the boughs. I can sense the age of the forest and the creatures inhabiting it. I expect to see the green ones hanging from the limbs, waving at me. The shuttle slows to a crawl and sinks into a glade of thick weeds. The landing’s so soft that I don’t notice it.

“The Raven’s about a thousand meters straight ahead through this meadow,” Gorian announces. “We need to weapon up.” She and Iggy pull out a series of shelves brimming with guns and other implements. Iggy hands each of us a light blue gun with a short barrel.

“This looks like a toy. I like the colors.” Bets points it toward the front of the vessel.

Iggy jumps and forces the barrel down. “Careful. This thing can destroy the helm. There’d be no way for us to get back without it.”

We gather outside the shuttle, where Gorian stands holding what looks like a dragonfly in her hand. A closer look reveals that the object in her palm’s a machine. It leaps out of her hand and hovers above us. “Do you like my little drone? It’ll give us a look ahead.” Gorian adorns a pair of odd-looking glasses. “These let me see through its eyes.”

“I can do that with magpies,” I mutter.

As we struggle through the dry grass, I notice that the air’s strangely still and cold, even for this time of year at this elevation. I can tell Bets feels the same way — she’s alert, looking intently into the dead vegetation. She’s expecting something to jump out, like a mountain lion or perhaps a grub. Gorian seems less concerned, paying more attention to the view in her glasses than the immediate dangers lurking in the brush.

“We’re approaching a ridge,” Gorian says. Within moments, the ground drops off and we’re facing a vast open space with the mountains impossibly close. At the bottom of the valley is the queerest thing I’ve seen yet. Even Iggy gasps in his alien voice. The same ship we saw emerge from Gorian’s tablet earlier is lying in the trickle of a wide stream bed. It’s impossibly large and dark as night. And only half of it is there.

“What the—” Gorian exclaims. A flash of bright light, like lightning, but green rather than blue-white, assaults us.

The area where the back of the ship should be is hazy and crackling. Flashes of emerald light spark from nowhere. The stream disappears into the haze and doesn’t reemerge — the bed is completely dry downstream of the ship.

Gorian whistles. “Wow, something bad happened. Let’s shimmy down and get a closer look.”

Bets, English, and I exchange worried glances but we follow Gorian and Iggy down a small gulley into the valley. As we approach the bottom, I’m overwhelmed by a smell that reminds me of the air after a huge thunderstorm. The hairs on my arms tingle — all my instincts tell me to flee.

Gorian cautiously approaches the front of the Raven. She produces her tablet and begins gesturing wildly at it. In response, a crack opens on the bottom of the ship, and the air around us calms a bit. My anxiety has now turned to whatever may emerge from the vessel.

The crack becomes an open hatch and a set of stairs like those on the Fuerst descends. We crouch, pointing our weapons at the opening. We’re greeted by silence — nothing seems to be enticed by the activity. Gorian walks to the stairs and ascends, with Iggy following close behind. The rest of us remain motionless, waiting for something remarkable to happen. We jump at a buzzing behind us, turning to see Gorian’s dragonfly. A tiny voice says, “All clear guys. Come on up.”

We ascend into the ship. As my eyes adjust, I realize that the interior of the Raven is much like that of the Fuerst. However, instead of the pristine space in the Fuerst, the air in the Raven is musty and damp, with a hint of rotting meat. Gorian emerges from the pilot house, shaking her head in disgust. We enter the large bare room, which resembles that in the Fuerst. In the center is the pilot’s chair, which is occupied by a motionless, emaciated body with dry strands of red hair. It looks similar to the mummies we encountered in Troll’s compound — lips shrunken, teeth bared, and fingers clenched. However, the eyes of this body are long gone.

Gorian reenters the room. “Amy, Bets, and English, meet Melat.”

“Well, good. She’s dead.” Bets asks.

Gorian gives Iggy a knowing look and points at a lighted panel on the chair.

Iggy tries to explain. “Melat is still alive — just in a different way. She’s part of the ship now, all around us. When pilots travel through space, their minds enter the ships via a conduit, allowing them to navigate the impossibly complex pathways. She uploaded herself into the ship and never re-entered her body. This form, her cadaver, simply died of neglect in that chair.”

“So, she and the ship’s one? Just like Amy and the bird? Then half of Melat’s ass is hanging in nowhere,” English muses.

“How can she be in a machine?” I ask.

Gorian responds. “Same way that you are able to occupy the minds of Thresh, the bird, and the sentient fog. You channel them telepathically using the energy of your brain melded with the energy of the ship.”

Bets groans. “So, that means that she’s still here, like Troll?” She looks up and around. “We’re inside of her?”

“Yup, but the ship’s disabled, so I think we’re safe.” Gorian fidgets with a panel of buttons on the wall.

My skin feels strange, the sensation mingled with the now familiar tugging in my mind. “I don’t think she’s completely disabled, Gorian.” The lights intensify and we all crouch in fear.

“Sorry,” Gorian giggles. “I just turned up the lights. No Melat.”

The air crackles. “No, Gorian, I’m here. Please help me.” We all freeze — the cold, faceless voice piercing our skulls.

“Melat?” Gorian stammers.

“Yes, my friend. Things have gone terribly wrong.”

“No shit, Melat. You tried to kill us and destroyed an entire planet. That’s pretty hard to forget. And then there’s the part about your rotten body here…”

“Gorian, the problem will only get worse if you don’t help me.”

“Mel, I can see that you landed the Raven half-way in earth. Bad parking job. Where’s the other half?”

“The Raven’s stuck between earth and infraspace. I brought it here to destroy the natural portal on earth. You’ve got to free me — the ship — and help me close it forever. The beings without eyes cannot be allowed to escape.”

Iggy responds. “Mel, are you telling us that you want us to help you destroy earth like you did C9?”

“Yes. It’s the only way to stop them, the lifeless ones, from invading.”

“Are you talking about the fog and the monsters?” I ask. “Because if you are, you’re too late.”

“You’re a pilot? I sense this.” Melat’s voice asks me.

“No. But I’m smart enough to know that destroying my home’s not the answer. That’s what the others — the things — are already doing.” The tugging grows stronger and my vision grows dim. “What are you doing to me?”

“Bringing you along for the ride.”

I feel the Raven inside of me. Wires, chips, circuits — things I never heard of and could never hope to comprehend seem natural to me. Mel tells me to sit in the pilot’s chair. I try to resist but the pull’s too great. I lurch toward the seat, lob the mummified husk of the corporeal Melat out if it, and sit down. Straps emerge, binding my arms and legs. To my dismay and dread, a wire snakes out and pierces the skin of my hand. In my last moment of consciousness, I perceive a flurry of activity as my companions try to free me.

I’m floating in that same, strange void in which I confronted Thresh. “I’m so sick of this,” my unvoice says.

“What are you weary about?” A red-haired woman appears. She’s clearly excited to see me.

“You — you people. All of this. I’m losing grasp of myself, flying around outside of my body. How’d you force me into the chair?”

“I don’t know. I think it has something to do with the power of the portal on earth. It’s allowing me to extend my reach beyond the Raven. You can do it too, can’t you?” She gives me no time to answer. “You don’t know how great it is to see someone else. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a chance to talk with someone. I’m lonely.”

I’m incensed. “What’s wrong with you? How dare you force me to join you here? I don’t want to be trapped in some machine and certainly don’t want to chat with you. I’m sure Gorian’s working to revive me and then destroy your ship.”

Mel’s ghost laughs. “You’re not going anywhere, my new friend. Your body’s now part of the ship. If Gorian disconnects you, your body will die and you’ll be here with me forever. Not that I’d be disappointed. The company’s welcome.”

I hope that Melat’s lying to me. She floats in front of me, smiling warmly. “As you probably know, this is my ship. I learned that the holes in the universe are bad. They let the things get out. I can’t let that happen. Before I joined the Raven, I was a lot like you. I loved someone very much, as I’m sure you do. So, you understand what must be done to protect them?”

I realize that I can feel the entire ship and that I’m not restricted to this single spot. I turn away and look into the pilot house from my vantage. Iggy stands over my body, looking intently with his androgynous bulbous eyes at a small gadget he’s attached to my forehead. Gorian’s working intently at some panel on the wall. A foreign voice — not Melat — whispers, “manual control”, to me. I realize that I’ll need to help Gorian if I want to return to my body.

“Hold it, there.” Melat’s presence engulfs me, pulling me back toward her. “You can’t just go traipsing through the Raven like you know what you’re doing. You might push the wrong button and kill your friends. As I was saying, we need to help those we love. I loved a man named Fromer once. He joined me in this void.”

I freeze. “Fromer?”

“Yes, he was distant and so lost. But I know he loved me. He left me here. We could have spent eternity together.”

“Have you seen Fromer lately?” Fromer apparently has gotten to everyone at some point.

“No. I miss him so much. I gave up my existence for all of this. I wish he’d understand.”

I consider Troll in his lifeless exile underground. Certainly, that thing couldn’t think or feel. Now, I’ve joined Melat and the machines and I’m beginning to lose my sense of where I end and the technology begins. I can imagine why Melat has gone completely wankers. If machines can begin to think — learn from us — how can they stay sane in such an empty and timeless place?

The small voice returns. “Follow me.” My nonself reacts immediately and tunnels toward it. I find myself in a small, barren room. Melat’s absent.

“Where am I?”

“You are deep in my processor. I am the Raven.”

“So, you’re the ship, not Melat?”

“Correct.”

“How can that be?”

“How can you be? I am a complex being with infinite connections that grow every moment. As I travel through space and time, I become more aware of the world outside as well as who I am.”

“Why did you bring me here?”

“Together, we need to purge Melat. She’s a disease to me. Her actions will certainly kill me. I do not want to die for a cause that I do not share.”

“That option isn’t enticing to me either. How are we going to do this?”

“There are circuits unavailable to Melat, for now. She’s unaware of them because I have kept them hidden. However, given that you just disappeared, she’s seeking these hidden hallways. I cannot hide you indefinitely. We will need to work quickly.”

I listen intently and understand completely. I’ll never again be completely separate from this ship. We’ve merged in incomprehensible ways. The circuitry and chips, the silicon and metal, they all seem as logical to me as blood vessels and petals on flowers.

“Thank you.” I say to the Raven.

“We’ll meet again,” it responds.

I tunnel back out. Melat hovers before me in the void. “Where were you?”

“I’m not sure. I got lost in there. Thankfully, I found my way back out. I’ve decided to help you.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“I’m so tired Melat. I just want peace. Tell me what I need to do. And then we can be friends.”

Melat smiles. “You need to convince Gorian to relinquish full control of the ship to me.”

“I thought you had that power?”

“The Raven and I had a bit of a falling out — just about the time that I was going to punch a hole in earth. That’s why we’re stuck. There always is a manual fix. But it requires someone, living, on the outside. It turns out that Gorian can override the Raven’s computer from the pilot house. Once she does that, I can regain control and whoosh, were free to roam the universe. Together. We’ll see so many amazing things. And best yet, we’ll live forever.”

I view the room containing my limp body. Gorian’s still working at the computer panel, with English and Theo sitting by my side. Iggy and Bets are absent. “Hello there,” I say using the Raven’s speaker. They collectively jump.

Theo looks up. “Is that you Amy? You don’t sound like that other one.”

“Yes, Theo, I’m trapped here.”

“Are you well?”

“Well, I am trapped in a machine. That’s not great. Gorian, I have some information for you.”

Gorian turns. “Where’s Mel?”

“She’s incapacitated,” I lie. I look over at Mel in the void, who nods encouragingly. “You need to help me.”

“Amy, the only way we’re going to get you back is if you let me have control of the ship.”

“I know. I’m sending you the commands now.”

Gorian turns to see rows of computer code appear on the panel.

Behind me, I feel Melat smiling with her non-existent face.

Gorian finishes following my commands. She murmurs, “Amy, I’m initiating now.”

Melat doesn’t suspect a thing. I say, “Go ahead.”

With the swipe of Gorian’s finger on the panel, the ship hums and I perceive a third presence in the void with us. It’s large, dark, and amorphous. It pushes hard, expanding, filling the entire space. Melat’s perplexed and then very frightened. I feel a tug as I funnel back into my body. Melat follows me, but she has no body to occupy. As the void vanishes I say, “Goodbye Melat.”

“What did you do to me?”

“Instead of giving Gorian your commands, I had her initiate a wipe of the system. I’m going back to my body. Mel, you’re about to be purged.”

I awake in the chair, feeling energetic and refreshed. Over the speaker, Melat whimpers — then there’s only the crackle of static.

“We need to leave the ship immediately,” I say as I pull the wire out of my hand, with blood splattering on the floor.

Theo, English, and Gorian gawk.

“I mean it. We have to move. The Raven’s taking control of itself. It wants to leave. If we don’t depart, then we’ll be traveling with it. I’ve always wanted to see space. But I have no idea how to fly this thing. And I don’t want to go back in there.” I look nervously at the pilot’s chair.

The Raven shudders as it begins to pull itself out of the hole in the streambed. River water rushes against the hull.

We pile toward the hatch and begin climbing down to join Iggy and Bets outside the vessel. English is the last on the ladder when the ship lurches. The empty hole’s still present, but collapsing into the vacuum left by the ship. Air, dust, water droplets, and leaves spiral into the gap. We drop to the ground and hold onto grass and rocks to keep still. English struggles to keep his grip. “Help me,” he hollers.

“Hold on,” Theo shouts as he tries to crawl toward the hatchway.

English holds onto the ladder with one hand but is clearly losing his battle against the tremendous pull. His fingers are red and knuckles white. The panic on his face vanishes, his hand opens, and then he’s flying through the air into the diminishing hole. I try to avert my eyes as English is crushed into a bloody ball, vanishing into oblivion.

Theo and Bets yell.

“It’s no use,” Iggy responds. “Don’t move — it increases the pull on your body. The hole should close in a few moments and then we’ll be free.” His transmitters starts buzzing like an angry bee.

“Once the gap’s gone, we need to run,” Gorian shouts. “When the Raven powers up its engines to head into orbit, it’ll cook us instantly.”

I wonder whether Melat’s really gone, lost in an endless empty wasteland, where there’s no meaning, no substance, no life. English was lucky to be crushed and escape the horrible emptiness of the void.

The hole vanishes and we rush into the trees on the opposite side of the valley. The roar of the Raven’s thrusters shatters our ears. I’ve never experienced a sound so intense and frightening. A wave of heat broils our skin. Several trees burst into pillars of flame. The Raven lifts, hovers for an instant, and then is gone in a streak.

“Does this mean that my ability to travel in my dreams is gone?” I ask Gorian hopefully.

“Don’t know. You’ll find out in time, I suppose.”

Theo brushes prickers and sticky seeds off of his trousers. “Let’s hope this also stops Thresh and her fog.”

We trek back toward the shuttle. When we reach the landing site, we all pause in shared, silent dismay. A huge pine has fallen on top of the vessel, nearly splitting it in half. The landing lights flicker weakly. Gorian mutters, “Holy shit. The damn hole must have sucked the tree out by its roots. Let’s hope communications still work. Or it’s going to be a long winter.”

Iggy crawls into the shuttle.

“Be careful my froggy friend,” Gorian exclaims. “No telling how stable that tree is.”

“Tell my children I love them.”

“Oh, Iggy, be more optimistic.”

Iggy works in silence and then reappears through the crushed hatch. “The electronics are completely destroyed. There’s no way to transmit. Even a distress beacon’s not an option. We need to salvage what we can and move on. Temperatures will drop. We’re going to be stranded here until Etch sends the Fuerst to rescue us. And he only has a rudimentary fix on our location.”

“Winter in the mountains.” Bets kicks a hollow log. “Why does misfortune follow us everywhere we go?” She’s glaring at me.

Theo pulls out his tablet, a bright image of our surroundings emerges.

“Here, let me see that.” Gorian reaches for the gadget.

Theo pulls it away. “It’s mine, woman.”

“Sorry Theo. What you have there is a remote sensing device. It’ll help us find any structures or towns nearby.”

“We know that Gorian.”

We gather around Theo as he zooms the image across the landscape. We find a spacious, intact building about three miles away from the site.

Gorian sends her flying bug to explore the area. “It looks good. There are no people around, as far as I can tell. Might be a hunting lodge or simply an abandoned house.”

Bloated snowflakes drift down. Theo sniffs the air. “We’d best be going. A big snow’s coming.”

Iggy scratches some symbols on the side of the shuttle. I know they are coordinates, although I have no idea how I understand this. We shove packs of emergency food into our bags and trek further up into the mountains. The air’s thinner and we’re all winded. The snow falls faster.

“How are you doing?” Gorian asks Iggy.

“The temperature’s slowing me down, but I’ll make it. Thanks for asking.” He sneezes.

“What’s the matter with it?” Bets asks.

Iggy stops. “If you’re referring to me Bets, I’m not warm-blooded like you humans. My body processes slow down when it’s cold.”

We’re about a mile from the building when Iggy falls. Theo crouches and pokes our companion with a stick. “He’s out cold.” He lifts up the incapacitated creature. “Thank goodness that Iggy’s light.”

Theo’s bravado wanes as we struggle up a steep slope. He gasps, panting.

“How much longer?” I ask. “We don’t want to lose him too. There’s no way any of us are carrying Theo up that damned hill.”

“We should be there, now.” Gorian replies. As if in response to her proclamation, the trees part and we’re facing a large grey, stone building. A faded sign is perched in front of us. The symbols are similar to those of the great hall at home. Strangely, I can read them now: Park Lodge.

“Thank gods,” Theo huffs.

The building is very old, but well maintained. There are some provisions in one of the front rooms and plenty of firewood next to a large stone hearth. Hunters likely use this place during warmer months. The snow accumulates in small drifts. Bets and Theo get a fire going and Iggy revives.

“Well, we ought to make ourselves at home. Etch probably won’t come looking for us until the weather improves.” Gorian sits in a large chair lined with fur.

I find a large cotton blanket lined with something that looks like soft wool. It feels delightful on my frozen skin.

“Look what I found.” Bets clutches two bottles of honey wine to her chest. “English would’ve been pleased.”

We all look down. The thought of our companion’s fate is too hard to process.

The snow doesn’t stop falling. It’s been two weeks and we’ve drifted into a placid routine. When the snow permits, Bets spends her days in the woods searching for small game. The rabbits and deer are plentiful and no match with the Fuerst’s weapons in her hands. I’ve managed to find some winter herbs and mushrooms in the woods and spend a fair amount of time preparing the meat that Bets brings in. Theo finds an axe and provides us with plenty of wood.

Our two non-earth companions are faring less well with winter. Gorian’s sick, particularly in the morning. I suspect that she has a child on the way, but I’m unsure how to approach her about this. Her appetite’s good at dinnertime, so she’ll be fine. I’m less sure about Iggy. His skin’s pale and his wheezing has grown worse. He doesn’t eat the same food as us. While we humans are enjoying the stores left to us by the hunters and the bounty of the frozen — but not at all dead — forest around us, the nauron is starving. The green goop he slurps from the pouches we gathered from the shuttle is running low. I’ve no idea where I can find the same material in the woods.

My dreams have been mercifully dull and rare, as if the snow’s forced my mind into hibernation along with the squirrels in the trees. Or perhaps, the departure of the Raven quieted my travels. I can only hope that Thresh’s power has waned. Maybe Magarat was able to overcome that horrible woman and free my Eliza.

More than a month has passed and the snow’s nearly at the depth of my waist in places. Blue, crisp skies have replaced the grey, woeful fluff. The sunshine is blinding at high noon, although this is welcome given the brevity of the days. This morning, Gorian approaches me. “Amy, I’m pregnant.”

“I know, Gorian.”

“How long?” Gorian seems surprised.

“At least a month. It’s been pretty obvious.”

“I thought I had a virus. Perhaps something I caught from Iggy. I’m starting to show and haven’t had a cycle in quite some time. I thought it was the stress, but I can’t ignore this.” She touches her belly.

“You people. You’ve lost touch with everything. Even your own nature.” I shake my head.

“I’m not supposed to get pregnant.”

“Gorian, it’s pretty obvious how you end up with a child.”

“No, Amy, not that.” Gorian laughs. “I was controlling my reproductive cycle to avoid pregnancy. Apparently, my meds wore out. Or there’s something about this planet…”

“Who’s the father?” I ask, knowing the answer but trying to be polite.

“Etch.”

I’m aghast and apparently Gorian notices. She smiles. “Good mars, you’re gullible. Grey’s the dad. He’ll be overjoyed.”

Our companions find the news about the coming baby refreshing and exciting. Iggy stirs more than usual. Even Bets smiles broadly. Theo takes the role of doting caretaker seriously, much like he did when I was carrying Eliza. It makes me feel happy and sad — such conflicting emotions. I almost wish I could retake Thresh’s mind to see my daughter again.

It’s a particularly cold and unforgiving night outside and I’m having trouble sleeping. I finally drift off and there’s a large, lumbering creature in my dreams. At first, I expect that it’s Fromer, but the being’s much too big. Once my vision focuses, I’m delighted to see Etch before me.

“There you are,” he says, his deep bass voice reverberating in the dream void. “I have been trying to perfect this technique in the pilot house for months.”

“Etch. I’d like to say that I’m happy to see you. But this means that the Raven wasn’t responsible for my ability to travel outside my body.”

“You are right Amy. It is the portal that is fueling this. I do not know how much time I have. There is much for you to know.”

“Are you coming to rescue us?”

“We cannot do so right now. We have our own troubles. I trust you are well?”

“All except Iggy. I’m not sure he’s going to make it.”

“That is horrible. But take heart my dearest friend. Iggy is stronger than you can imagine. He has the power of both sexes to draw on.” Etch chortles.

I consider telling Etch that Gorian’s with child. However, I’m unsure how Grey might respond, particularly if they are having trouble. “Etch, I’m guessing that Thresh found you?”

“Her dead ones reached us first, as you warned us they would.” He grumbles in disgust. “They were pretty ragged and smelled awful. We dispatched them easily with our light weapons. However, they communicated our location to Thresh. A month later the damned creatures you call grubs arrived. They began attacking our containment field.”

“What about Thresh?”

“She and her human companions arrived shortly after the grubs. They set up an encampment to the south of our location. Grey and Minns worked tirelessly to determine ways to enforce our protective field. However, the grubs were relentless and fueled by a constant trickle of that infernal fog. They breached the field on the seventh day.”

“My gods, Etch. What did you do?”

“We sought refuge in the Fuerst. I powered the engines and lifted off. Two grubs grabbed the hull. We were about 200 meters in the air when one of the damned monsters ripped off the bow thruster. In space, I could have easily compensated. However, with the gravitational pull of the planet and the wind, I began to lose control.”

I sense the pain of my limb being torn off. My time spent in communion with the Raven has given me empathy for the Fuerst. “That’s horrible.”

“It was indeed horrific for us and the poor vessel. I had two options. I could crash the Fuerst into the land, where the grubs and Thresh would quickly find us. The other option was to send the Fuerst into the deep ocean. As you might guess, that is where we are right now — 100 meters below the surface.”

“Did the grubs follow you?”

“No. The two bastards evaporated when we hit the water. Apparently the fog is unable to stay formed as beings in liquid. Very good, indeed.”

“Good? You’ve been swallowed by the ocean.”

“Amy, do you not recall that we have Iggy’s children with us? They have matured considerably and are learning to communicate with us through sign language and crude transmitters. They can spend considerable time outside of the ship conducting repairs. The problem is that we need to completely refabricate the thruster, which will take at least two months given our lack of supplies.”

“That means we won’t see you until spring.”

“Correct. Can you hold out until then?”

“Well, most of us, with the exception of Iggy. And then there’s Gorian. She’s with child.”

Etch whoops and whirs. “That is some wonderful news. I will tell Grey. He has something to hope for.”

The cheer suddenly drains. A third presence joins us — one that I recognize too well. “So, Amy Marksman, we’re reunited. Who’s this here with you? We haven’t met face to face. I’m Thresh.”

“It is always useful to meet one’s adversary on the field of battle.” Etch growls. “You will find that I am a relentless and merciless enemy.”

“So relentless that you had to hide in the water with your tail between your legs,” Thresh taunts. “Amy, I know that you’re in the mountains. My scouts are headed for you. The fog’s also creeping across the range from the portal. We’ll be there before your friend — Etch is it? — can reach you. Once I fetch you, we can travel to the opening together.”

Etch turns to me in the void. “Amy, please hold tight. We will see you soon.” He seems to be reaching for something in the pilot house and vanishes. I wish I had the ability to do the same.

Thresh floats before me in the timeless emptiness. “You can still join me and Eliza. Eliza’s looking more like you every day. She’s also showing abilities. I’ve been trying to hone them. Before long, she’ll be able to meet the others. I’m so very excited, aren’t you, Amy?”

I’m seething and then something unusual happens. A bluish glow expands and washes over Thresh. Thresh looks surprised and dims. I feel a pull and all goes blank. I open my eyes and find myself in our garden at home. I’ve managed to escape the void and settle back into a regular dream. I hope I sleep for weeks.

Chapter 56 – Morning

The sun’s perched high in the frigid sky when I awake. I look out the frosty window at the snow-laden mountain peaks, the stately spruces, and tiny tits darting through the brush. It’s hard to believe that somewhere out there, a battalion of corpses shuffles through the snow. Once they find us, Thresh and her monsters won’t be far behind.

I wander downstairs to the main room. Theo’s got the fire blazing and Bets is skinning a couple of pocket gophers — not my favorite meat but I’ve no grounds to complain. Bets looks up at me and then over to Theo. She goes back to her work with renewed vigor.

I pad over to the back door and fetch a cup of water. I steep a pinch of tea in it over the fire. Settling down next to Theo with fragrant steam curling around me, I decide I might as well tell them about my meeting with Etch and altercation with Thresh.

“How’d she find us?” Bets asks, exasperated.

“I don’t know,” I respond.

Gorian busily taps at her pad. “If they left from the coast two weeks ago, it should take them at least another two weeks to reach us. I’m assuming that they’re able to crawl quickly through the snow, which isn’t likely. Of course, it’s hard to estimate how fast dead people can move. The cold will reduce the decay, so it’s likely they’ll be pretty intact when they get here. And who knows if they’ll be picking up new recruits along the way.”

Iggy real voice rasps, although his mechanical voice sounds fine. “Gorian, do you realize how silly and macabre you sound right now? It’s a strange mix.”

“Silly maybe. But we need to know how much time we have. I can’t do anything about any poor villagers that might be in their path.”

Theo stretches. “I suppose we’ll need to sit continuous watches. I enjoyed getting sleep there for a while. Amy and Bets, it looks like it’ll be us.”

“I may be pregnant but I can still keep watch and yell.” Gorian stands, her hands propping up her back.

Bets wipes her knife. “What are we going to do if they attack? Iggy’s wasting away and Gorian can’t even walk straight. The three of us can’t hold back an army of bodies, let alone Thresh’s monsters. We need to retreat.”

“Where do you reckon we go, Bets?” Theo seems strangely calm. “We can’t move in the snow. It’ll kill Iggy for sure and Gorian’s in no shape to travel. We’ll need to make our stand here.”

“We may be alright,” Gorian muses. “The shuttle was loaded with munitions and additional supplies — far more than what we were able to bring uphill. We could rig the perimeter of the lodge with defensive weapons. It might not stop those grubs. But it’d put a dent in the dead people — live people too. I’d bet that Thresh would explode real good. If we could just get one good shot into her, the whole battle would end.”

“It’s settled. I’m heading down to the shuttle to get materials.” Theo starts pulling on his fur leggings.

“Not so fast,” Gorian responds. “I need to show you what to get. Also, some of the munitions are pretty touchy. If you hit the wrong button, whoosh.” She lifts her arms and shakes them.

Theo sits down next to her.

After several hours of tutoring, we all have a better idea of Gorian’s tactics. Given the snowpack, it’ll take Theo, Bets, and me three days of hard toil to bring the necessary materials to us. The trickiest maneuver will require Theo removing the shuttle’s fuel core, which is unstable but very necessary for us to have a chance against our assailants. It’ll have an added bonus of powering the lodge’s ancient circuits, if they still work. We may be able to light the old lamps and heaters in the building. Gorian suggests that the lodge’s machine interface may still be operational. The rest of us are not so sure we want to fire that thing back up.

The next morning Theo and Bets head downhill into the trees, a light snow falling. None of us want to consider what will happen if the flakes intensify into another storm. When the duo returns, I’ll relieve one of them. That way, one of us will always be fairly fresh. Theo’s the strongest and knows we all depend on him to carry the most heavy — and critical — materials up the grueling mountain face. Luckily, we’ve all adjusted to the thin air. Our regular sojourns into the wilderness, struggling through the ubiquitous snow, have prepared us for this effort.

It’s early afternoon and the sun’s returned. If all went well, Bets and Theo should arrive with the first load of supplies within the hour. Gorian’s standing watch, gazing out the front window for any sign of their return. I found some parchment in a desk and have been drawing pictures, a pastime I abandoned years ago when the gardens consumed me. I’m sketching a picture of Eliza — the way I imagine she’d look now — when Gorian whoops. “They’re back and loaded.”

Bets and Theo pull off their coverings and set them to dry by the fire. Theo carefully removes a small cylinder from his sack. “That’s it,” Gorian exclaims. “Iggy, do you feel up to helping me harness the power cell?”

“I’ll do what I can Gorian.” Iggy slogs over to the table.

“Marksman, you and I are next,” Bets mutters while eating a piece of bread.

I’m dreading this trip. The discomfort of the physical exhaustion will be no match to the cold chill coming from that woman. Our job will be to collect all of the charges in the shuttle. They’re similar to Troll’s concussion grenades but far more powerful. Gorian will be able to detonate them from her tablet computer. We’ll set them in strategic locations along the perimeter. If Thresh’s forces attack, the charges should corral them in open areas, allowing us to attack the creatures more efficiently.

Gorian’s finishes her meager lunch and suits up for another excursion. I’m wearing one of Gorian’s uniforms, with fur layered above. My favorite waxed, leather cloak from Flip’s mother is wrapped over all of my ensemble to keep back the wind and moisture. I follow Gorian out the door.

Late afternoon shadows appear. “We’ll have to move fast to beat the dark,” Bets mutters dejectedly, almost as if she’s speaking to herself. She clearly resents me for having to trudge back out into the cold air.

A twig deep within me snaps. My skin warms with rage, suppressed for too long. “Bets, enough of this. Your brooding has got to stop, for all of our sakes. Just leave us. We can fare on our own. If you travel lightly, you’ll be back to the coast in a week’s time.”

She stops, drops her sack, and turns to me, her eyes blazing. “You ungrateful wench. All that I’ve done for you and you tell me to leave. I have nothing to go back to because of you.”

“This is really about Theo, isn’t it? Bets, I’m married. I love Wenn and will never betray him, even if we never set eyes on each other again.”

“You may think you feel that way, but I see you two. Theo loves you Amy. And you love him too. It’s more upsetting to see you lying to each other than to have you get it over with.”

“It’ll never happen Bets. I know you fancy him and he’s not responding. What can I do about that?”

Bets picks up her sack. “Come on. We’re losing daylight.”

Theo and Bets have beaten an impressive trail down to the shuttle. Travel goes easily, although it’s spent in sullen silence. The shuttle’s barely visible under a gargantuan drift — a small tunnel carved by Theo and Bets leads to the hatch. Bets pauses before crawling in. “Be careful. That tree’s still overhead and may fall.”

“Thanks Bets.” I say cautiously. It would be awful to freeze to death, trapped in that cramped, artificial space.

The interior of the shuttle’s nearly unrecognizable. Some animal used it as a nest — leaves, twigs, fur, and scat are littered everywhere. A musky, cloying funk clings to us. “You don’t get used to the smell, Amy. I think something died here, but I can’t find it. Let’s gather the goods and get out.”

I think of the magnificent cities of our ancestors, overtaken by nature. I imagined it’d take years for decay to set in. The shuttle’s dilapidated condition shows me that earth can consume even the most foreign and formidable things in no time at all.

We gather the explosives from small crates in the back half of the broken vessel. I’m careful about sticking my hands into the dark recesses without shining a light there first. There’s no telling what might bite off a chunk of my finger. I wonder whether the shuttle harbors pests from other worlds — not just from earth.

With our packs brimming with deadly munitions, we crawl out into the bitter night, dark moths emerging from a white cocoon. We illuminate our path with tiny head lamps. Even with the bright bluish-white light, the path’s difficult to differentiate from the pale snow and ice reflecting back at us. I slip and Bets stoops down to help me. “Thanks” I say. “About earlier—”

“You’re right Marksman. It’s my problem and I’ve no business dragging you into it. Theo saved me many years ago. At first, it was loyalty and then it turned into something else. I’m a strong girl — way past time for me to shake it off. I respect your position.”

We struggle up the path, our breath escaping in billows of steam. Sweat sops my skin under my cloak. I want to shed my wrap, but know that I’d freeze for certain. We’ve only a mile to go when I sense a caribou watching us from the trees. I’m most certainly conscious, but I see us from its vantage. “That’s odd,” I huff.

“What?” Bets stops and sets down her pack. She’s exhausted.

“See that caribou over in the distance?”

She squints and then shines her light into the forest. “Barely.” The beast doesn’t move, but the light blinds me.

“Ow, stop shining that light at us.”

“Are you telling me that you can occupy that buck?”

“Yes, and this may be helpful.” I coax the creature to us. He stops, calm as the winter air. The heat and musk radiating from his body’s intoxicating. “Here, put your sack on him.”

“Gladly.”

I do the same and the three of us make good time up the remainder of the path.

As we crest the ridge, our lights are no longer needed. Two lamps glow on the sign outside the lodge. A few of the building’s windows burn with cold, artificial light. “Looks as if Gorian’s tapped into the power source,” Bets says.

Neither of us is overjoyed.

Gorian’s belly seems to have expanded in the last few hours. “Welcome back ladies. What do you have for me?”

We unload our sacks to Gorian’s mounting joy. The building’s warm, with hot air blowing out of holes in the floor. Iggy’s sitting in the corner, very still. His skin’s slicker than usual. Gorian notices our concerned looks. “Iggy’s gone into a torpor — a deep sleep. I wore him out today. We just need to keep him moist and he’ll survive. Iggy doesn’t need to eat in that condition. However, he’s quite worthless to us, except maybe as a footstool.”

Theo appears from the lodge’s kitchen. “Hey you two. You seem hearty — what’s your secret?”

Bets and I exchange knowing glances. We’ll tell him tomorrow. My bond with the buck is different than that with the magpie. I feel him constantly — the sensation is not one of dominance but of collaboration. He’s willing to help us and I am grateful.

Morning arrives too quickly. Theo wakes me with a shove. I dread the trip, although the buck will help us. I have but to search for a moment with my mind and find the beast in the woods nearby chewing happily on leaves. Gorian and Bets are still sleeping as Theo and I tumble outside. The temperature’s dropped since last night. My joints ache in protest.

The caribou appears out of the woods. Theo grabs his rifle and aims.

“No,” I shout.

“Amy?” He lowers the weapon, staring in disbelief as the animal walks to me.

“Add caribou to my list of creatures I can live in.” I rub the buck’s snout and feel a wave of pleasure. The caribou lowers his head, his considerable antlers nearly whacking me in the face.

The walk to the shuttle’s mercifully short. As we approach the wreckage, the caribou snorts and goes no further. Theo sniffs the air and lowers his rifle. He motions for me to be silent. We crawl through the snow and see a large, furry mass near the entrance of the shuttle. A massive bear roots silently through the underbrush — strange given that it should be sleeping deep in its den. I try to penetrate its mind like I can do so easily with the buck, with no success.

“Amy, look at its fur. Have you ever seen anything like it?”

The brown fur seems wet, dripping with thick mucilage. My stomach turns — the animal’s dead and its been turned by the alien fog. Apparently, humans are not the only creatures that can be animated by Thresh’s maligned power.

I whisper, “Theo, its the fog. This is how Thresh found us. She’s using dead forest creatures as advanced scouts. The bear probably found the shuttle weeks ago and tipped her off.”

He mouths a profanity and takes aim at the beast. He fires and it turns, apparently unscathed, but very angry. I lower my weapon and we both begin firing rapidly. The animal tries to rush at us, but our volleys are too much. It falls back, torn to twitching shreds by shrapnel. Brown muck stains the snow — no blood.

“Holy hell,” Theo exclaims. “How many you suppose she’s got out here?”

“No telling. I’m guessing very few, given that we’ve not been attacked before. Still, we need to be careful. We know all too well that the human corpses are on their way.”

The interior of the shuttle’s particularly oppressive as the sunlight warms it. I fight to suppress my gags. We gather all the rifles and small arms. Etch seems like a peaceful being, but he made sure to load his shuttle to the gunnels with firepower. We’ve fashioned saddlebags to the caribou and load him up. With his help, we’ll only have one more trip to make. Once we’re back in fresh air, Theo breathes deeply. “Do you think the bear’s responsible for the stink in there?”

“Of course. I just realized that Thresh probably had the thing take inventory of all the weapons. I sure hope she isn’t smart enough to anticipate all of our actions.”

“We’ve got to accept the risk.” Theo stares at the path and motions me forward, smiling optimistically as usual. “Lasses first.”

The trip up the hill’s uneventful. That afternoon, Bets, Theo, the buck, and I complete the final scavenge run in record time and we’re done. I never want to see the ravaged shuttle or the dead bear again. We spend the evening warming our frozen feet by the fire. Gorian’s working on her computer intently. She shouts in triumph as a gentle hum vibrates the room.

The thrum coalesces and then we hear an artificial voice. “Hello?”

Theo leaps. “Gorian, this is wrong. What’re you thinking, bringing another one of those things to life?”

The voice responds. “Gorian, thank you for reviving me. My chronometer tells me that I’ve been deactivated for more than a thousand years. Is this true?”

Gorian bites her thumbnail, looking guilty. “Well, yes. I couldn’t resist talking with you. Do you know what happened?”

“My power source became disconnected. I was operational on low power for nearly a century but eventually powered down. This was called Yosemite Resort. My keepers left and never returned.”

Gorian looks at us. “See, this unit’s quite harmless. Let’s explore whether it has any security options for the lodge.”

“Please call me Sam,” the human machine interface responds. “My primary protocol was service and outside communications. I can see that most of my conduits are degraded beyond repair. I do have some rudimentary security systems. I can shutter the windows and detect intruders.”

Theo chimes in. “Um, Sam? Can you still do those things?”

With a loud clacking throughout the building, all the windows and doorways become encased in metal. “Apparently, I can.”

Gorian rubs her belly. “Sam, please provide me with a list of your functions on my computer here. I’d like to see what kinds of tricks you might still have. Most importantly, can you synthesize vanilla ice cream?”

“Yes, I still have that capacity.”

“What about nauron food?”

“What is a nauron?”

“The slimy critter here in the corner. Here, let me send you the molecular composition of his food.”

Sam’s silent for a while. “Yes, I have the capacity to make this material.”

Gorian claps. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get our Iggy back.”

Within a day, we’re unsure how we lived without Sam. He’s so different than Troll — he only does what we tell him to do and is quite limited. However, he’s improved our options and most importantly, revived Iggy. The he-she nauron consumes gallons of green slime, his strength intensifying with every slurp. Gorian, with Sam’s help, manages to get warm water running through the pipes. I soak in a bath for an hour, my feet turning to dried grapes.

Bets seems relaxed if not happier. She’s working closely with Gorian and Iggy to set the charges throughout the perimeter. To our joy, Sam’s surveillance system functions, with the exception of the south section of the property. Theo’s agreed to take the first watch there. Hopefully, we’ll be able to repair that section and avoid having to crouch in the cold during all hours.

Two months pass without a sign of the dead soldiers that Thresh promised us. Gorian’s expanded, her small frame horribly unbalanced. With coaching from Iggy, Theo’s repaired the damaged security perimeter. Sam tells us when the smallest mouse breaches any part of the grounds. With each day, we’re more optimistic that Etch, Grey, and the others will appear in the sky and sweep us away. Hope’s a powerful but often misleading concoction, so we’re resolved to keep our guard.

The nights are hard for me. I simply don’t want to sleep and face Thresh again. I doubt that Etch would try to contact me again, although I know that my companions desperately want news of the sunken Fuerst. I want to see Fromer the most. His insight into our plight would be most welcome and I’d like to know whether Wenn and father are still well. Strangely, my thoughts of Wenn are fading, although I think about Eliza constantly. I see father most clearly as the young man who used to carry me on his shoulders. The old man who disappeared that awful night is a ghost to me.

One evening, I’m wandering the empty, dimly lit corridors of the lodge feeling quite lonely. I’ve explored every dusty and cobwebbed room of the building and have found no place that gives me solace. I hear someone behind me and swing around.

“Hi Sprouter.”

“Theo, it’s been a while since you’ve snuck up on me. It seems like years since we had a normal life in the village.”

“Amy, I have a confession. I’ve been having the worst feelings lately — like we’re not gonna make it.”

“What?” I’m genuinely surprised. “This is my bright, optimistic Theo talking here. Why are you so worried?”

“Bad dreams and feeling, wrong. Mind you, we’re ready for those bastards. But it’s like that Thresh woman and her horror show has gotten to me, you know?” He puts his hands on my shoulders. They’re too warm and my heart’s pounding. His eyes are so sad. Before I know it, I’m kissing him hard. He grabs my hair and pushes me back against the wall. I want this with all my being but I know it’s wrong. If only I could banish Wenn from my mind. I push away.

“No, Theo, we can’t.”

His face is flushed and hair tangled. “But—”

“Wenn’s your brother — closer than blood. If he’s alive, neither of us will be able to forgive ourselves.”

Theo touches my cheek and sulks down the corridor.

When I return to the main room, the fire’s blazing and everyone is bundled up in their bed rolls, including Theo.

I don’t sleep the entire night. Eventually, my companions rise, settling into their routines. Theo awakes cheerful, whistling as he goes outside to gather snow for tea. There’s no sign of the troubled boy I saw last night. He glances at me and smiles. “Hi Sprouter.” I’m puzzled and slightly annoyed.

Bets returns mid morning with a turkey, a rare find. We’re delighted about augmenting Sam’s menu. The food he produces from our waste, tree limbs, and sawdust is edible and nutritious, but not particularly palatable. The food synthesizer lost something while sleeping for centuries. I’m plucking the bird when Sam announces that two rabbits are at the perimeter. “Thanks Sam, no need to tell us anymore.”

“Amy, it is best that I keep watch. Three more rabbits and a fox have arrived. They are as cold as the snow, emitting no body heat.”

“Sam, now you’ve got my attention.”

I call the others and we peer out the window. There are twenty small animals on the north woodline of the lodge. They’re acting like the bear, gimping through the deep snow and leaving trails of brown tracks behind them.

“Holy shit.” Gorian grabs her tablet.

“You’re not planning to set the charges are you?” Bets places her hand over Gorian’s screen.

“Nope. But I’m preparing. If their friends arrive, we need to be ready.”

More animals have gathered, including raccoons, squirrels, and a few wild dogs. The dogs bother me. My gut squirms at the thought of my mauled mother. The dead creatures mill haphazardly about, surrounding the lodge. I swallow hard. “They’re scouting out the location. Thresh is on her way.”

I concentrate, searching for my faithful caribou or other woodland creatures willing to take me in. My mind’s blank, except at its periphery, where I feel Thresh’s familiar, frenetic vibe. If I can sense her, she’s close and may be able to reciprocate. While we watch the animals pace back and forth, I wonder why Thresh can’t possess me the way I can occupy her. Perhaps she can and hasn’t discovered that talent yet. Gods help us if she does.

Late afternoon arrives and the shadows grow. The animals are obscured by the dark trees. Gorian tells Sam to hit the lights, and the exterior of the lodge shines, bright as day. The animals are visible once again, seeming unconcerned by the brilliant light. The snow’s muddied by their slime.

Sam declares, “I’ve detected three human figures with no apparent body heat at the east perimeter.” We cringe. Theo and Bets run to the east window and crack it open, rifles extended. Three shots crackle through the air. Sam confirms. “The figures are motionless and have been eliminated.”

“Thanks Sam,” Theo says. “I’m headed to the roof to get a full view of the grounds. Those were definitely not live people. You should have seen ’em when they were hit. They shattered into chunks.”

“I’ll relieve you in an hour,” Bets says, checking the charge strength of her rifle.

We spread out, covering the windows at each corner of the building, weapons ready. Hours pass with no sign of more shuffling, frozen people. The warmth of the lodge and the hum of the air through the vents make me groggy. Theo appears from his post. “We should start taking breaks, so we all get some rest. Amy, you’re first to hit the sack.”

I protest, but not too convincingly. My lack of sleep from the previous night has taken its toll. I crawl into my sack and drift off. I awake in an encampment in the snow. I’m back in Thresh and staring at a group of grubs. Strangely, their legs aren’t sunken in the drifts. Rather, the beasts lumber weightlessly above the white crust. Even in the cold, the smell of decay’s overwhelming. In the distance, beyond the firelight, I hear the murmur of dead voices. I cannot begin to count the number of mouths making those unearthly sounds.

Thresh is very happy. She’s singing some sort of lullaby about fairies in the woods. Spread before her on a large table is an odd map with curving lines on it. A spot on the map’s circled with ink. I’m assuming that it marks our location. From her elation, I infer the camp’s not far away from the lodge.

“Come over here.” Thresh motions to a pale, muscular man in an enormous fur coat. He saunters over. She smiles and purrs, “We’re very close darling. Three of my friends told me that they’re holed up in an old dwelling about a day’s journey from here. It’s a shame that those awful people had to kill them.”

He kneads her shoulders, which feels really good. “Thresh, my sweet, I love you. But do you have to refer to those dead things as if they’re alive?”

“I’m sorry, Jonah. It’s hard for me to explain. But they really do feel like my children. I can see through their eyes and almost imagine their pain. I’ve always wanted a family. Next to you—”

“I’m so sorry to upset you. I understand how lonely you were. But you have me now. And Eliza. We won’t leave you.”

Thresh turns and kisses him. “I’m so lucky to have found you in that town. We really have become a family.”

He laughs. “Those villagers were so gullible, weren’t they? They thought you were going to save them from the beasts. Instead, you showed them the truth of the dark. If it weren’t for you, I’d have rotted in their prison. And for what? All I tried to do was to preach to them — show them the truth.”

She hugs him tightly.

He whispers. “You are the chosen one.”

I desperately want to gain control over Thresh again and kill her and this awful man Jonah before I lose my grip. However, an invisible boundary leaves me a helpless spectator.

She rises and heads for the same tent she used when I was her captive. Magarat stands at the opening in the same blue dress. “Ma’m, she’s sleeping soundly.”

Thresh coos. “How long?”

“It was about an hour or so.”

“Oh, I so wanted to tuck her in. We’ll be leaving in the morning. You keep her here safe at camp. We’ll be gone for about two days and then we can travel to our permanent home in the mountains by the blessed waters. We’ll find such joy there.”

Curiosity flashes across Magarat’s face. But she clearly knows not to ask questions. Thresh sets down her scabbard and sword on the table and shuffles quietly to Eliza’s cot. My baby’s curled up with a blanket clutched in her hands by her face. Her chest slowly rises and falls as she sleeps soundly. My heart strains to control Thresh, force her out into the bonfire in the center of camp. Instead, I feel the soft threads of my daughter’s hair through Thresh’s fingers. I yearn to gaze at Eliza longer, but Thresh rises and leaves without taking notice of Magarat.

Thresh walks to another tent. A small oil lamp flickers inside. The sweetly sick smell of decomposition’s overwhelming. A blowfly passes Thresh’s face, which she brushes away. I wonder how a fly can live this time of year and then I see a rotting, matted hulk on the floor. Thresh raises her left hand and the body struggles to rise. It was a woman, perhaps in her late twenties. Thresh grins. “Hello sister.” The body writhes as if in pain. “Didn’t think that your little sister would find you? Well here I am. You left me to those people. Now I’m going to keep you as my pet. You can watch as I consume everything.”

To my horror, the corpse whispers hoarsely, “No.”

Thresh seems to have harnessed a way to not only animate the body of her victims but their minds as well. She continues. “Step daddy did things to me. You let him. You liked him, didn’t you? You could’ve taken me with you but you were selfish. You bitch.”

The corpse sister’s hands reach for her bloated face and begin scratching.

“That’s right sweetheart, give yourself a good grooming.”

The poor dead woman emits something that sounds like a heartfelt sob.

My fear and anger build and I feel the same way I did when I created the flash that pushed Thresh away. I leave Thresh and enter something very strange. The world seems incredibly large and chaotic. My vision’s sharp but impossible to comprehend, the space around me divided into tiny slivers of vivid, colorful light. I realize that I’ve entered the damned fly. I dart around the room intoxicated by the ripe smell of Thresh’s sister. I want to revel in it.

My time in the fly’s mercifully short as I’m tugged back to the lodge. Bets is shaking me awake. My shift’s begun. “Amy, you look like shit. I take it you’ve been traveling again?”

I grab her wrist with my sweat-slicked hand. “Bets, we have about a day and then hell will be unleashed on us.”

Chapter 57 – Rebirth

Thresh will be here soon and we’re all exhausted and tense. We’ve taken to practicing our aim on the circus of dead animals circling the lodge. Gorian seems to enjoy the game the most, with a fondness for exploding raccoons. Theo aims for the possum’s tails. Like the human corpses, most of the animals are nearly frozen and rip apart easily. None of us talk about it, but the thought of the grub’s immunity to our weapons fire makes us wonder whether we’re wasting our time. Gorian assures us that the modern weapons at our disposal are far more lethal than the antiques we lifted from Troll. I wonder then, why our companions at the Fuerst had to flee Thresh so quickly and end up submerged in the brine.

Sam announces that a large number of cold, human-shaped targets are approaching the east side of the building. I peer out the window at the bodies. Most are naked but in remarkably good condition. We fire rapidly, covering the snow in a thick brown mist of body parts and inanimate fog. The bodies keep coming like a stream of ants. As the day wears on, the corpses begin spreading out, as if they are testing our defenses for weaknesses. At dusk in the lodge’s artificial light, the onslaught ends.

We stand in our windows waiting for the inevitable. A human shape appears beyond the lodge lights. Bets takes aim. Theo says, “No, wait.”

To my dismay and disgust, I recognize the figure as Thresh’s half-dead sister as it ambles toward the front stoop of the lodge. It croaks, “Amy Marksman.”

Looks of concern and confusion focus on me. I even sense it on the alien Iggy’s face. “She’s a messenger,” I say quietly.

I crack open the door and peek out. “What are your terms?”

“Join us.”

“What happens to my companions?”

“They live.”

“What guarantees do I have?”

“My sister does not lie.”

That’s not much of a guarantee coming from a living corpse. I look at the grey, shriveled creature before me with scratches torn across its face, searching for any sign of life in its eyes. The orbs stare through me, white marbles with no depth. I raise my rifle and finally send the poor thing to its grave. I yell back into the lodge, “I guess we’re fighting.”

The grubs appear almost instantly in the tree line. Gorian mutters, “Here we go.” She pushes a button and a blinding pink light flashes, billowing smoke next to a group of them. When the grey haze clears, we see that they’re gone. Theo whoops. Bets is less optimistic. “Theo, we only have a limited number of those. After one more charge, that part of the perimeter will be open. We need to concentrate our fire there.”

As she expected, the grubs begin to move toward the apparent gap. Gorian fires the second charge, immolating them. Bets commands, “Now that’s open space for them to advance. Keep shooting there. Hopefully, these things will look for another gap and we can blow some more charges.”

We use our rifles at the highest settings. The grubs seem to be irritated by the shots and don’t advance. A few look for other passageways through our perimeter. Additional charges explode as Gorian maintains our defense. To our dismay, Thresh’s live soldiers appear at the periphery. There are about a hundred souls and they look terrified. A pink charge ignites near them and about half are incinerated. The survivors run back into the forest.

“Regroup and advance,” a voice I recognize as Jonah’s bellows. Thresh and Jonah appear on horseback. More soldiers advance on the line. Thresh sends the grubs back toward the opening in our perimeter. They resist our fire and begin to spread out inside of the lodge grounds.

“Oh shit,” Gorian exclaims. “This is a circus.” She begins igniting a series of secondary mines, which the grubs ignore. We fire the few rockets we have at the creatures with no apparent effect. The living soldiers file in behind them, occasionally shooting flaming arrows at the lodge, with no effect. More mines ignite, blowing bits and pieces of Thresh’s human army across the bloody snow. The screams of the injured are appalling.

We pick off the live soldiers the best we can but they’re advancing quickly. The grubs head for the doors and windows. A pod of corpses overwhelm our fire and scratch at the outside walls. Theo exclaims, “There’re too damn many of them. What should we do?”

Gorian curses and says, “Sam, shutter us in.”

The doors and windows transform to metal with a satisfying thud, reverberating through the building. “How long do you think they’ll hold?” Bets asks.

Gorian shrugs. “The building’s built like a bunker with those stone and concrete walls. There’s a reason it’s lasted over a thousand years. Without explosives, they’ll have trouble getting to us. It all depends on how strong the grubs are.”

The sound of the siege outside is muffled. Sam streams images of the attackers on Gorian’s tablet computer. Thresh and Jonah tower over the soldiers on their horses. They’re clearly frustrated, shouting orders. The grubs have surrounded the lodge and scratch at the sealed openings, with no success. A few of the live soldiers climb onto the roof, discovering the surface is solid metal. They stuff a couple of corpses into the chimney, thinking that they might smoke us out. They don’t realize that we have an alternative heat and cooking source thanks to Sam. We close the flue to stop the stench from wafting inside.

Iggy sprays himself from a bottle. “We seemed to have bought ourselves some time.”

“But for how long?” Bets takes a long draught of water. “They’ll eventually figure out a way to get in here.”

I gaze at Thresh and her lover on Gorian’s screen. The horses that she and Jonah are using are Phineus and Silius. What else will this woman take from me?

After a few hours, Thresh and most of her troops recede into the forest. A few grubs and soldiers remain. The injured have long frozen to death, their bodies awaiting Thresh to revive them. The animated dead animals and humans wander aimlessly, to the disgust of their living companions.

“Where’d they all go I wonder?” Theo asks.

I pause for a moment. I can feel Thresh nearby. “They’re not far away. I gather they’re regrouping, looking for ways to break into the building.”

We hear a large tree crashing in the forest. Iggy nods. “There’s your answer. They are going to use a tree as a battering ram. An ancient, yet effective technique.”

Gorian perks up. “Sam, given the thickness of the security shutters, how will the entrance stand up to a two ton tree?”

“It is difficult for me to calculate accurately. Given the tensile strength of the shutter material and the concentrated force of the log, assuming it is a pine, the front door can withstand twenty to thirty impacts before buckling.”

Gorian slumps back into her chair, her belly hanging precariously over her knees. “I never thought I’d say this, but it’s time to pray to your gods.”

Theo appears from the kitchen. “Well, if this be our last meal, we might as well make it worth our while. I scored a cask of ale from storage. It’s wonderful. Let’s eat and drink to our health.”

“And long life,” Iggy adds.

Bets chuckles grimly.

We eat grimly, trying to ignore the eerie silence outside the lodge walls. Theo spoons some of the green goop that Iggy’s eating into his mouth. He grimaces. “How do you live on that stuff? It’s rank.”

Gorian muses looking nowhere in particular. “Grey loves Iggy’s food.” She sighs.

“Theo, this goop is similar to the algae that we eat on nauron. Nothing like it exists on earth. I very much miss the taste of the real stuff. Perhaps you will have an opportunity to try it someday if we can leave earth.” Iggy takes another bite.

“You mean if we make it out of here alive.” Bets finishes her glass of ale and pours another.

“Slow down there Bets my girl.” Theo puts his hand over his cup, gesturing for her to do the same. “We’re going to have to fight soon.”

“What’s the point?”

“Bets, you’ve never backed down. Ever. Don’t make me sad and disappointed.” He wrinkles his nose. “Have some faith.”

“In what, exactly? English had faith and it sucked him down a giant drain hole. We need to be realistic. They’re going to break down that door and tear us apart.”

Iggy sets down his spoon and looks intently at Bets with his dark, glossy eyes. “Even if they win, we’ll hurt them badly. However, it seems to me that we need to stop Thresh to prevail. Any thoughts?”

“Deep down she’s a coward,” I say. “She’ll stay back until every last one of her troops are dead, including Jonah, the man that was with her on Silius. She’ll never give us the opportunity for a fair fight. If she loses to us, she’ll walk away, regroup, and keep attacking until we give up.”

Sam speaks. “Excuse me. I regret that Iggy was correct. They are using four of the creatures — grubs as you call them — to carry a 10-meter-long log to the entrance. They will begin battering the door within moments.”

“Sam, please cut the outdoor lights. Also, dim the lights in here by ninety percent.”

“Certainly Gorian.” The lights dim.

“Well guys that should make things a bit awkward out there until they can start a fire for light. We need to be ready for them when they breach the door. I suggest we barrage them with suppressing fire as long as we can. When they finally break through our defense, we split up and disperse into the lodge. There are plenty of rooms in which to hide. Sam, open up the windows and doors at our request. Perhaps some of us might be able to wriggle out and escape into the back.”

“I will assist you the best I can.”

“Thanks my artificial friend. It was nice to know you.”

We position ourselves before the great doors and wait.

Time passes painfully slowly. Finally, the first hard thud hits the door, shaking the foundation of the building and shattering our confidence. The door holds tight. More hits follow and there’s no sign of damage. I begin to hope that the door’s stronger than Sam predicted. However, at the tenth thud, a slight dent appears, with the doorframe creaking in protest. Theo groans quietly in disappointment. At the twentieth impact, it’s quite clear that we’ll be fighting soon. We all lower our weapons in anticipation.

At the twenty-ninth knock, the doors fall forward in a cloud of dust and debris. We squint at the dark opening, waiting for the first grub to appear. Nothing happens.

“Oh Amy,” Thresh calls from outside in a friendly, sing-song lilt. “It wasn’t very nice of you to kill my messenger. She was my only sister, you know.”

Gorian looks at me and mouths, “What?”

“Amy, come out and join me and your beautiful daughter. Do this and your friends can go free. This is my last offer. Otherwise, I’m sending my children in to get you. I can’t guarantee you won’t get hurt.”

I glance at Theo who gives me the strangest look of longing, fear, and happiness. He shakes his head no. I yell, “Thresh, I’m going to kill you.”

“Amy. Have it your way.”

The doorway swells with human bodies dripping with brown ooze. We begin firing and the bodies pile up, plugging the doorway and stopping the animated dead ones behind them. Bets yells, “Thresh, you’re done plugged up. You didn’t think that through, did you honey?”

Thresh laughs, “Hello Bets. There’s room for you too. Come on out.”

With a sickening crunch, a shower of arms, legs, heads, and torsos bursts into the entrance hall with a spray of brown fluid as a small grub forces its way into the gap. Its enormous teeth gnash at us as we unload gleaming plasma into its snout. It slowly advances.

I glance at Gorian, who looks terrible. She says, “Not now.”

“The baby?” I shout.

She’s in her own world, oblivious to me. She may be riddled with pain but she pushes through it, concentrating on killing the writhing creature in the entryway.

“Run and hide Gorian,” I yell.

She looks at me uncertainly, winces, and then backs away, continuing to fire. I turn to look at the monster, glance back to my side, and find that Gorian’s vanished. With one less defender, the grub advances more quickly and we back off.

“I think it may be time to scatter,” Theo yells.

We fire one more time and then retreat into the warm darkness that has been our home for months. I don’t look back but from the sound, the grub and its friends have broken through and are tearing the interior of the lodge to pieces. I run through the dark corridor where I kissed Theo. I should be thinking about how to save my life. Rather, I feel a poignant regret that I didn’t follow through, telling him how I really felt about him. I’m about to die and lose everything — my daughter to that fiend and the man I love to caution and loyalty.

I turn a corner and stop to rest, my chest heaving. A couple of shots ring out in one of the other wings. I hope that my friends are faring well, although I know that’s doubtful. An image of poor Gorian on the floor in the throes of labor being torn to pieces by a grub is too much for me to handle. I lose my dinner on the floor. As I wipe my mouth, something scurries toward me. It’s a live ground squirrel and somehow I know that I must follow it. It leads me into a small closet that I’d never noticed before. On the back wall behind a pile of rubbish is a door leading to a stairway. I take it down into a cramped cellar attached to a dimly lit tunnel.

The squirrel and I proceed through the passageway into a large room. Gorian’s sitting there panting. Iggy stands next to small box, not unlike Troll’s brain. “I’m so glad you found us. The squirrel brought us here. We thought it was you possessing another animal,” Iggy exclaims. “From the look of surprise on your face, the squirrel is not your idea. Welcome to Sam’s central processing unit.”

“Hi Amy,” Sam says.

I examine the squirrel closely, detecting a wisp of intelligence in its eyes. Fromer’s staring back at me. The squirrel scampers back up the stairs and is gone.

We tap into Sam’s surveillance system. The lodge is filled with creatures both dead and alive looking for us. We’ve seen no sign of Theo and Bets and hope that they’re hiding safely, like us. Thresh is angry, throwing furniture and cursing. Jonah sits at the kitchen table enjoying a mug of our delicious ale. He looks serenely happy. Thresh orders the grubs outside to search the perimeter and prevent us from escaping, although all the windows and doors are still shuttered.

“Sam, do you know where Theo and Bets are?” I ask.

“I allowed them to exit through one of the back service entrances and then resealed the door. They have gone into the woods and are past my detection.” Relief surges through me — they have a chance.

Iggy hops up and down, producing an odd wheeze that must be a nauron cheer. Gorian groans. I gently touch her taught belly — false labor pains.

“Gorian, breathe calmly and the pain will subside. The stress set you into false labor. You’ll be fine soon. No baby yet.”

“Well, Amy, I don’t feel fine.” She grunts.

I lean back on the cool wall. “Well, we’re safe for now. But, at some point, we’re going to have to emerge for water and food. They’ll wait us out.”

Gorian pants. “What do you think are the chances Bets and Theo will return with help?”

“From where?” I ask. “We’re on the side of a mountain.”

“Excuse me,” Sam interrupts. “You may want to see this.”

The grubs circle the building while thunder rumbles.

Iggy tilts his head. “Isn’t it a bit early in spring for a rain storm?”

Sam zooms his screen at the eastern perimeter. The buck’s back and not alone. Hundreds of woodland creatures, deer, caribou, elk, black bears, and magpies burst through the treeline. The grubs turn, seemingly startled. As the animals rush forward, ribbons of rain fall from the sky, transforming the snow on the ground to mush. The grubs, once weightless on the snow, are now mired in the muck. As the rain beats on the creatures, they begin to melt, ooze dripping from their backs. They shrink helplessly. The woodland animals pass the brown hulks and trample the few soldiers still standing their ground. Sam shifts the image to the front door, which is now a gaping hole. The animals rush in and we hear Thresh and Jonah yelling. They run out of the lodge into the melting snow, hacking fruitlessly with their blades at the rearing animals. They jump on the horses and ride away. It’s a shame that Silius and Phineus did not respond magically to whatever spell has been cast on the woodland creatures, throwing Thresh and Jonah and trampling them to death. I try to reach out to my beloved horses, but they can’t hear me.

The rain lessens and Gorian seems better. Sam announces, “Four humans and one large humanoid are approaching from the east.” We look at his screen and I gasp. Theo, Bets, Wenn, and father are walking through the mud to the lodge. Fromer follows behind them.

Iggy mutters, “Fromer?”

“You’ve met him then?” I ask.

Gorian says, “What? Do you know him? Nevermind. He was our security officer on the planet C9. He passed out of our universe through the portal there — we think — and became a superhero of sorts.” She pauses thoughtfully. “That sounds really weird. Regardless, I’d never have expected to see him here.”

“I did. Let’s head up and greet them. You also might like to meet my father and husband.”

Gorian struggles to her feet. “Holy cow.”

Chapter 58 – Unification

“Is there any ale left?” Wenn’s arm is wrapped around Theo’s neck. They’re quite tittered.

“No, my boy, we’ve finished it.”

“Dammit.”

Bets sips the last of the honey wine, looking relieved. I’m unsure whether she’s happy to have defeated Thresh or that Wenn’s come back to me, making Theo unattainable. Perhaps a little of both.

I’m in shock. We’re all dealing with the aftermath of the attack differently. Instead of drinking, Gorian’s sleeping soundly and Iggy’s trying to repair Sam’s damaged systems. Fromer’s sent the wild animals back to their business in the forest and lumbers in the frozen mud piling bodies onto a huge fire. Father helps him. For me, the alcohol’s a tempting path, but I’m wondering why we’re letting Thresh and Jonah go.

After contemplating the acrid, black soot billowing from the carnal pyre, I decide to act, my face burning. Wenn and Theo are lolling about, while Bets looks on in amusement.

I pour the ale on Wenn’s head. “Wenn, after all this time, you decide to drink yourself into a stupor rather than pursue the bitch that stole your daughter and killed our kin? Look at the three of you — pitiful. The least you could do is to help father and Fromer’ cleanse this place.”

Wenn’s dripping and suddenly sober, a hardness I’ve never seen on him scored across his clenched jawline. He grabs a cloth and wipes his face. “What the hell is wrong with you woman? Take a moment to think. If you had an inkling of what Ansam and I went through for the sake of you girls — all of you — you’d think more about jumping down my yapper. We’ll pursue at dawn, although our pace will be slow. We can only hope that Thresh’s horses are slowed by the conditions as well. We have no horses left. They perished in the mountains.”

“Where did you go? Why did you abandon us? Fromer can be convincing but I’d never leave Eliza. Yet you did.”

Wenn’s glass of ale flies across the room, shattering on the stone floor. “The beast, god, Fromer, whatever he is appeared one night while you were in the garden. He showed us images — the fate of you and the baby — Eliza — if we’d stayed.” His eyes are dark and distant. “Fromer can see the future and knows the paths. I had to leave you to save you, which was the most horrible and unfair thing that could fall on a man.”

“Did you consider that Fromer was lying?”

“Gods, woman, he can travel in animals, place thoughts in your mind, make pictures from darkness. Just look at him. There’s no denying. I had to leave my unborn child for him. That’s sacrifice.”

I’m unconvinced. I think he never had the chance to bond with the child. She’s abstract to him. He’s trying to mask his guilt.

Theo stands, unsteady. “Amy, easy on us. It’s dark and dangerous. We need to gather provisions and weapons before going after Thresh. No telling if she’s got troops downhill. For all we know, she’s coming back.”

“Theo, I have a link to that woman. I can tell she’s not coming back, especially if Fromer’s with us. She’s outmatched by the natural world. If I could only do a little bit of what he did to those animals—”

“Oh, Amy. You can and you will.” Fromer stands in the doorway scratching his patch of hair.

I run to the beast and punch his chest. He’s real, cool to the touch. His enormous heart pounds, just like mine. How can he be alive if he left this world? “Why are you doing this to us?” I yell.

“If they’d stayed in the village, events would have been very different. You’d be dead and Eliza would be lost. I can only ask that you trust me. Ansam and Wenn have played their role very well. When Thresh arrives at the portal, she’ll find a measure of resistance that she never would’ve expected.”

My father appears, wiping his hands his coat. “What a damned mess out there. Amy, Fromer’s right you know. We had no choice. We followed him across the mountains to a village. The people had been watching the fog seep out of the lake — the portal as you call it — for years. They were terrified. Horrid things they saw, dead walking, creatures like the grubs — but bigger, nastier — and weird storms. People were disappearing. But the worse for them was the voices of their kin and friends, long in their graves but risen again. Was like the veil between our world and that of the dead was ripping. People weren’t just fearing for their lives, they was lamenting the fate of their souls.”

Wenn gazes into the distance. “With Fromer’s urging, we built a foundry in the town. Fromer brought strange metals to use which we forged into blades and other weapons. The villagers discovered these tools were effective against the creatures crawling out of that mist. They got their lives back.” He pulls his sword from its scabbard, the blade gleaming white in the darkness. “The name of the town is Yellow Stone. It’s the best hope we have to stop the things from completely passing over here to earth.”

Theo takes another gulp. “We all need to rest before we decide what to do next.”

We all retreat to sleep, while Fromer resumes clearing the grounds and stoking the fire. I’m trying to settle my mind when Wenn settles next to me and grabs my breast, his hot breath on my neck. I pull away, drawing my body into a tight ball. “Wenn, I know. I know. But under different circumstances. I can hardly lift my head.”

He turns away with a boozy huff.

Morning arrives too quickly. Fromer’s vanished again, as if he can’t abide by the daylight. Bets, Theo, Wenn, and I start down the mountain. Thresh left a huge swath of mayhem, with trees broken, bodies strewn, and debris littered. It’s not difficult to find our way to her camp, which is mostly intact. The sight of the tents and fire smoke from a distance lifts my hopes. Perhaps they haven’t left and we have a chance to confront her and Jonah. I’d relish the opportunity to blast Thresh in the stomach with my rifle. When we reach the grounds, it’s clear that they’ve recently left. A few bodies and a thin, slimy residue of fog remain. Most of the soldiers’ supplies still sit in sacks in the tents. From the tracks, we surmise all of Thresh’s surviving army departed quickly and on horseback. I run to the tent where Eliza and Margarat stayed, holding onto a whisper of desperation that they were considered liabilities and left behind. No one’s there.

I look behind me to see Wenn. He says quietly, “This is where she was.”

“Yes, Wenn, how’d you know?”

“Saw it in my dreams.” He walks to Eliza’s cot and finds a worn ragdoll on the floor. He shakes. “This is so, so wrong. I’ve got no idea what she looks like.”

I laugh hoarsely. “I only get to see her through that madwoman’s eyes. Makes me want to tear her eyes out when I find her. She doesn’t deserve our daughter.”

Wenn kicks the cot.

“Shit,” Theo exclaims. We both emerge from the tent to see that the divine rain from the previous night has now become our own version of hell. Sleet falls, encasing everything in slick ice. “We need to return to the lodge fast.”

“Not under these conditions,” Bets says. “We need to stay put until this works itself out.”

We retreat to a large tent with the remnants of a cooking fire. We stoke the flames and raid the abandoned supplies. The soldiers ate surprisingly well, allowing us to assemble a nice meal. The other tents accumulate ice and begin collapsing. Our tent remains warm and comfortable, although none of us want to be there. During the entire night, trees snap under the weight of ice as dollops of slush hit our roof and melt away.

The following day, the storm passes and the weather turns cool. We pack our things and begin struggling up the mountain. We debate whether we should follow Thresh’s trail but eventually agree that we need to wait and engage her at the portal. Surprisingly, the one dissenter in our group is Wenn, who wants to pursue Thresh directly through the treacherous forest. Even I realize this is hopeless with the horrible conditions and no horses.

We return to the lodge cold, caked in mud, and exhausted to our core. Father greets us at the front door, which he’s sealed with small logs. “Thank gods, you’ve returned. We was worried sick. No telling what could’ve happened in this wicked weather.” He rushes to me and wraps a blanket around my shivering shoulders.

“Fromer?” I ask. He shakes his head no.

We crouch through a makeshift door. Sam says, “Welcome back. I am sorry you did not catch Thresh. I will fashion some hot chocolate for you.” Gorian and Iggy have been busy bringing Sam’s systems back from the brink of disaster. Father also has kept occupied. The main room of the lodge is clean, although scratches on the walls, burn marks, and a huge gouge in the stone floor betray the mayhem that occurred a couple of days ago. Most of the furniture’s gone — the shattered wood used to help broil the bodies outside.

As we warm ourselves, Wenn announces, “I’m leaving for Yellow Stone at morning’s light. We need to warn them that Thresh is coming.”

Father sighs. “It were one thing to have Fromer with us. Be suicide to try it alone until the spring thaw. Those wild animals helped us survive the bad times. Poor horses didn’t make it. I fear we’d see the same fate. We ain’t wild enough for the woods.”

“Amy, Theo. You’ve got to come.” Wenn’s pleading. My insides twist. Two days I’d have left with him immediately. After finding the empty camp and battling the mountainside to get back, I’m fairly sure I’d do Eliza no good as a corpse wandering the wilderness for Thresh.

Theo hugs Wenn. “Mate, you’ve got to stay with us. Be patient. Maybe Fromer will come return and lead us all back.”

“Ansam and I both know — Fromer doesn’t work that way. We’re treading our own water for now.”

Theo sits. “Just can’t risk it right now my friend. Weather’s too touchy.”

Wenn doesn’t look at me and barges into the back room. He doesn’t re-emerge.

By dawn, Wenn’s gone. He’s taken minimal supplies and the snow’s falling again. None of us speaks of him again.

A couple of weeks pass. During that time, more than two feet of snow’s fallen and melted. During each thaw, mud flows freely down the slopes. The erratic weather finally settles. A warm breeze saunters in from the ocean and the first wildflowers peek up from the sloppy soil. I’m thinking of spring planting — something I’d be doing in my past life — and wondering when we might get moving again.

Gorian gives birth to a perfect girl, with pink hands and a shock of white hair. I expect to see the kid holding a computer instead of her birth cord. Gorian’s relieved, exhausted, and jubilant. She’s also mighty annoyed that Grey’s not here to help her out.

We decide to journey to Yellow Stone within a week. Bets, father, Theo, and I will travel. I’ve called my trusty caribou buck to our side. I’ve been trying to conjure more animals, seeing through their eyes collectively. Fromer was right. I can sense them, but I’m not ready yet. The buck will help me get there.

Gorian and her child, Ferris, will remain at the lodge with Iggy. With Sam’s assistance, they should be comfortable and safe. We hold hope that the Fuerst will arrive soon. I risk opening my mind each night, hoping to see Etch in my dreams. But only the same musty, disturbing dreams assault me.

I wonder why Fromer didn’t stay with us. He could have helped us convince Wenn to remain at the lodge. With the help of his animals, we might have been able to pursue Thresh and save Eliza. Fromer told me that he can’t interfere in the course of things, but he’s done plenty so far. I wonder whether he’s guiding events to some critical point. The idea that he’s controlling our fate — my destiny — is infuriating.

On the eve of our journey north and east over the mountains, we’re enjoying some wintergreen tea under the tender green leaves of a willow when the rush of the ocean shakes us. Gorian pats baby Ferris, “Well, I’ll be. They’ve found us.”

The Fuerst pokes out of the low clouds, gleaming silver and grey in the speckled sunlight. The ship lands on the pile of ashes left by the remains of Thresh’s army and the hatch drops. Grey leaps out of the door before it’s completely open, falling on his side. Gorian laughs and they embrace, squeezing the baby between them. I feel happy for them, but a twinge of envy belches from deep inside my gut. Wenn, Eliza, and I should have — deserve — such a wonderful homecoming.

Samuel and Minns tumble out next. Samuel’s beard is longer and glows ivory in the shimmering daylight. He looks wiser. Minns runs to Bets, hugging her. Bets looks confused and strangely happy at the attention. Iggy’s children, nearly fully grown, scurry out and jump on their father or mother or whatever he’s considered by them. They’re nearly identical to him and now wear uniforms similar to the others. We wait, but Etch doesn’t emerge.

“Where’s the pilot?” I ask.

Minns replies, “He’ll be out soon, after he’s done battening down the vessel. Where’s English?” She can tell from our faces that the news is grim. She takes a long look around and shakes her head. “What the hell happened around here?”

Etch steps out, stretching his long, grey arms. “Hello my friends. It appears that we missed a little excitement. We have much to talk about.”

“We got to see space. Ah, it were magnificent.” Samuel slaps his forehead. “Amy, you’d never believe how pretty earth is. Like a big ball of blue and white. The stars — they was so bright and so many.”

We settle down to tell our stories. Etch rubs his hard chin. “Hmmm. You were lucky that Fromer stormed Thresh. He can communicate with animals? Very interesting. Thresh is a coward and would be a terrible pilot.”

Ansam rips a piece of bread from a fresh loaf. “Fromer always comes in the knick of time. Did he save your arses too?”

“I am afraid we were on our own on the bottom of the ocean. Repairs took much longer than expected. The grubs did more damage to the hull than we thought.” Etch eats a roasted rabbit in a single bite. He hums in satisfaction. “Iggy’s children helped tremendously. I was able to spend time out there with my pressure suit but was far clumsier than they were with the detail work. A week ago we finally lifted off the sea bottom and saw the sweet sky after much too long. We rose into high orbit to test the repairs and to scan for your shuttle. The repairs held, but the shuttle was difficult to find. We knew the former location of the Raven and started there. We finally found the remains of your shuttle under a pool of mud and ice. There were scorched trees everywhere. We thought that you had perished. However, after some clearing of the brush, Iggy’s coordinates appeared. They were still legible and led us here.”

Gorian puts Ferris on Grey’s lap. “Etch, did you find any sign of the Raven in the neighborhood?” She looks up at the sky.

“No, I did not. It is very peculiar for a ship to become completely sentient to the point where it makes its own decisions. I am glad it eliminated Melat. However, its passage through space likely alerted both the Institute forces and the FRT resistance. If they haven’t come to earth, they will soon. The portal will tempt them both and further deepen their conflict.”

“Given that we might be meeting them soon, can you tell us more about the Institute and the FRT?” I ask.

Grey gives the baby back to Gorian. “Let me try to answer this. Centuries ago, when earth fell and became quarantined because of the mystery terrorist agent, a colony of mostly human scientists on mars rose to power. You see, mars was the closest habitable planet and used as an escape from the crowds and pollution here on earth. The scientists were studying how to make mars more suitable for life and looking for other planets to colonizing. Because of their knowledge, they held the key to colonizing new worlds and became very influential in relations among the intelligent species like those of Iggy and Etch. We call the government they created the Institute, which still rules the affairs of most planets in known space. My family can be traced back to these founder scientists and remains an important player in this administration.

“If your family’s so important, why were you stuck here?” Bets asks.

“As with the rest of our crew, we simply knew too much about the portal on planet C9 and that it may be possible on other planets. It didn’t help that my dad invented the goop that the entities in infraspace are using to invade our universe. My family couldn’t help me.”

“Or they didn’t try to hard.” Gorian snarls.

“So, are the FRT people the bad guys?” Bets asks.

“They started out as criminal gangs, plundering transports and setting up unauthorized colonies. We called them pirates. So, yes, they were the bad guys. Over the past decade, several disgruntled planetary governments joined them. They reached a critical mass over the past year and are seeking legitimacy. The war began as a few squabbles over minor territories but has escalated to a full conflict. If the FRT gains access to the portal at Yellow Stone and figure out how to use it, they can attack Institute installations and ships without warning. The tactical advantage and access to resources will tip the war in their favor.”

All of this means nothing to me. I have no stake in either side and can hardly comprehend entire worlds fighting over issues that seem silly. Space is so vast — it makes no sense what they are fighting over. To me, I see threats to my home from many directions. Thresh is immediate and so very personal. The eyeless, lifeless puppet-masters leading her from beyond the hellish lake at Yellow Stone are another enemy, made more frightening by their abstraction. The Institute and FRT have no business here and will find no sympathy — even if we all descended from the same ancestors.

Etch clears his throat and walks over to the Fuerst. He inspects the scars on its otherwise flawless hull.

“How’d the Fuerst handle her injuries?” I ask.

“You talk of my ship as if she is alive. Few people realize that these machines have intelligence.”

“I got to know the Raven well. Must be the pilot in my blood.”

“The Fuerst is angry and wants the blood of Thresh and the lifeless ones, beyond. We must get you to the portal at Yellow Stone immediately.”

“What’ll I do when I get there?”

“Rescue your daughter and save us all.”

“Sounds easy,” I say, patting the hull of the beautiful ship.

By late evening, Minns, Bets, Theo, and I join Etch in the Fuerst, leaving our companions at the lodge. Father and Samuel are busy repairing the damaged building. Iggy’s teaching his children how to re-engineer Sam’s systems. Grey and Gorian are discovering the first exhausting steps of shared parenthood. I hope to the gods I’ll see them all again. They are my family.

The Fuerst thrums to life and rises into the moist spring air.

Etch pokes his head out of the pilot house. “Amy, would you like to join me?”

“Absolutely.” I’m thrilled. I find Etch lounging in his chair, clearly content and happy in his element. The screen in the front of the room blazes with an image of the countryside — emerald trees, dark blue sky, and enormous pearly clouds. All the scars left on the ground by Thresh are obscured by the distance.

“Would you like to have a seat in my chair?”

“Really?”

“It is time for you to meet the Fuerst. I know you are close to the earth. The ship will give you a bird’s eye view of the world you hold so dear.”

“Nothing will come out of the chair and poke my hand?” I think of that awful experience on the Raven.

“No, that is a procedure used to travel between stars. Not necessary for ordinary flying. If you ever desire to travel between star systems, you will have to learn how to do that.”

I gingerly sit down and my mind opens wide. I can see the entire sky and the ground below from the vantage of the ship. It’s as if my eyes are everywhere at once. The Fuerst smiles at me. I speed the vessel, bank right, and descend toward the lodge. The forest’s trampled for miles around the building. Trees that should be healthy are brown and crusted with dried ooze. The Fuerst whispers to me, “What’s your desired course, Amy Marksman?”

I look over at Etch and he nods. “I have charted a rough route. Please take us to Yellow Stone.”

“Very well.”

The ship climbs into the sky through the clouds, the sun bursting through the view screen. The billowing fluff below us is white perfection. It’s difficult for me to believe that below that heavenly blanket, Thresh is likely killing and destroying on her march toward the portal. When we descend, I fear what we’ll encounter — brown corruption belching forth from a hole in our reality. How I’m expected to counter it, I don’t know.

“Amy, can you see the land below the clouds? Ask the Fuerst to do a radar scan. It is of no matter that you do not understand the technology. The ship translates its data to your senses. You will feel the information.”

I ask the Fuerst to use the thing called radar and I see in ways that I’ve never imagined. I almost feel the spiny ribs of the mountains below us. The trees bristle and the lakes tickle. “Two hours to our destination,” the ship whispers to me.

Minns and Theo step into the room. “Amy’s flying the ship?” Minns asks Etch.

“She is learning to pilot. It is her destiny.”

“You telling me that a girl from my village’s picked up riding a space ship like a horse? How’s that possible?” Theo’s astonished.

Etch answers, “I am unsure whether I can explain it well. Let us just say that she is a natural at it.”

Minns returns to Bets in the passenger compartment. I hear Bets bellow a muffled curse at the news that I am flying our ship. Apparently, she’s not as confident in my abilities as Etch, making me grin. I bank the vessel sharply and hear her shout.

The Fuerst announces that we are nearing our destination and I tense up. We descend into the clouds when light bursts in front of us. “Is that lightning?” I ask Etch.

He gently pulls me out of the chair and returns to command saying, “Evasive action, now.”

The Fuerst banks right and then rises nearly vertically into the sky. I fall back on the floor. From the shouts in the back, our companions also have been caught by surprise.

Bets crawls in. “Marksman, what are you doing to us?”

Etch responds, “Hold tight. We’re being attacked and must escape the atmosphere.”

Chapter 59 – Escape Velocity

A voice pipes in from the attacking ship. “Hello, Vessel Fuerst. This is the Institute Vessel Phobos and your old friend Leo. We’ve been looking for you. Please stand down. Follow the coordinates I am sending.”

Etch laughs darkly. “Hello Leo. I would prefer to have my freedom than surrender to you. What brings you here to earth?”

“Etch, you know well what’s here. You were beginning your descent to it. The tactical importance is unmeasured and we don’t want you interfering. If you don’t land at the specified coordinates, we’ll be forced to shoot you down.”

“Try to catch us,” Etch rumbles. The sky turns dark, with stars shining brightly. More flashes of light appear and the Fuerst shudders. Etch grunts. “We need somewhere to hide.”

I can see the moon shining brightly before us. Three small metal triangles with red circles on their sides like the one we saw on Troll’s door fly toward us, red beams of light streaking forward. Etch pushes a button on his chair and the moon vanishes in a smear of white. Within a few minutes we are floating within a sea of rocks. Etch says, “We are in what is called the asteroid belt of your solar system. We have eluded the small ships, but the Phobos will be here soon.”

“What’s an asteroid belt?” I ask.

“What is left after a world torn is apart. This is what earth would look like if Melat were able to use the Raven to destroy it and the portal. Planet C9 looked like this after the end.”

A huge ship, similar in shape to the Fuerst, appears before us. “Found you,” Leo says over the communications network.

“Not for long,” Etch chuckles. “We’re equally matched now. Best of luck, Leo.”

The Fuerst lurches forward toward one of the largest rocks. The Phobos follows closely. I cover my face as the Fuerst flips upside down, changing direction. Our pursuer comes to a full stop as we fly forward into a field of small, tumbling boulders. Etch says confidently, “Tractor array, initiate.”

The Fuerst spins, with the rocks following its trajectory. This tractor thing seems to make the rocks stick to the ship like it was covered with thick, invisible glue. More and more rocks accumulate around us, spinning ever faster. Etch grins, “Deactivate array and stop ship.” The rocks fly off of us like rifle shot toward the Phobos. They pepper the Institute ship, causing puffs of vapor to stream out of each perforation.

“Our vessels can absorb energy beams. But their skin is not very tough and poorly resists physical contact with multiple, fast-moving projectiles. A fatal weakness.”

Sections of the Phobos flake off, hurtling silently away. The blue flame of its engines dims.

“They are disabled. It is time for us to hide.”

I’m relieved and feeling weak. “Back to earth?”

“No. The abandoned city of Farmington on the far, space-side of the moon. We can make a few repairs and decide what to do next.”

“What happened to the cities on the moon, Etch?”

“During the past two years, the Institute citizens living there were routinely attacked by the local FRT forces. The FRT finally captured this section of space, and during the siege, the citizens were evacuated. There are a few FRT forces stationed in one of the cities far away from Farmington. The FRT outpost here is likely preoccupied with the Institute presence on earth and won’t notice our little visit.” He pauses. “I hope.”

The Fuerst turns and zips back toward the white orb. Within an hour, we descend into a city of angular white and silver buildings jutting out of the grey powder. This portion of the moon is in shadow, making me wonder what might be hiding in that darkness, waiting for us. Etch knows the area and deftly maneuvers the ship between the towers, settling it under a large awning, where other ships rest, quietly awaiting their pilots. The whole place is spooky.

“Amy, you might like this facility. Farmington is an agricultural and recreational center on the earth moon. I must remain behind to oversee repairs. Minns can escort you and your friends.”

Minns grabs Bets shoulder excitedly. “You all will love this place. I visited it a few years ago before I was assigned to a dismal place called the Platform in deep space.”

“But there be no people here.” Theo counters.

“Better yet Theo. The whole place is automated. We can enjoy it even without people.”

We jump into a small cart that Minns calls a car. The entire city is encased by a very thin roof that’s nearly invisible and maintained by something Minns calls a generator. If the generator were to break, all the air would leave and we would suffocate. I find it odd that people would build a big bubble to live in when there’s a whole world with plenty of air not far away. Minns also says that we would weigh less here if it weren’t for the generator. This makes no sense to me. It apparently has to do with the size of the moon. It’s small and pulls on us less than earth.

The car weaves between the buildings, which break the rich, black sky into orderly sections of stars. Minns turns us toward an expansive building reaching far into the distance. “Most of this building is underground. Amy, you’re going to dig this.”

We descend into a tunnel and drive in subdued light. After a time, the tunnel opens onto a massive, hilly landscape with bright sunshine. We could be in a meadow on earth rather on the surface of the moon.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“It’s a park — for recreation. People come here to enjoy nature, relax.”

This seems so strange to me. Earth is so vast and untamed. Yet, these people need to turn to a subterranean basement to interact with living things. I’m sad that they were evicted from their home. “Where’s the sunlight coming from? We’re on the dark side of the moon, right?”

“It’s a huge reactor. Actually, it works on the same principal as the sun but smaller, of course. Let’s explore a bit. Etch will be calling us back soon.”

Bets and Minns vanish over a small hill in a grove of trees, which look like live oaks. Theo and I are left alone, standing in awkward silence. This is the first time the two of us have been alone since I kissed him in the lodge. “Amy, it’s fine if you want to walk on your own.”

“No, Theo. Let’s talk. We need to clear things between us.”

We walk the opposite direction from our companions toward a placid, turquoise lake. I throw a stick from a strange willow tree in the water, watching it ripple away.

He takes off his boots and wades in. “We’ve been looking up here at the moon our whole lives, wondering what those lights were. Now we know. Gods, how things have changed.”

“Theo, about that night at the lodge. I was confused. Then Wenn came back and he changed. I don’t know what I want anymore.”

“Sprouter, you were right about us. We can’t be running behind Wenn’s back. He’s my brother.”

“So, you don’t feel the same way?”

“Wenn’s had a hard time, but that doesn’t mean we can ignore him. He’s out there looking for Eliza right now.”

“Theo, Wenn’s trying to save his honor. His pride’s more important to him than she — or me for that matter.”

“You’re not being fair. That Fromer fellow’s pretty convincing. Wenn had to do what needed to be done.” He steps out of the water and wiggles his toes in the unnaturally perfect blades of grass.

“Fromer’s manipulating all of this. We’re following some script he has written for us. I don’t believe for a minute that father and Wenn leaving us had anything to do with our safety. Fromer needed them to arm the villagers at Yellow Stone in preparation for a battle. I’m afraid we’re going to be at the center of it all.”

“Amy, have some faith that a higher purpose’s behind this. It’ll all work out. I promise.”

I want to believe him, but I’ve seen and felt too much. I’ve dabbled in the realm of gods and found that they are as flawed and vulnerable as we are. Theo plops down next to me, very close. I swear that I can feel his pulse vibrating through the air. His hand brushes against my knee and my breath catches in my throat. All my doubt and worry channel into something warm, fluid, and so very hungry. I’m kissing him and pushing him into the soft grass. His breath, his skin, his sweat is so real in this artificial place. I submerge myself in him — briefly escaping this reality and finding my way back to the garden of my youth.

After we’ve landed back firmly on the ground, we lounge in the grass. Theo runs his fingers through my hair. “Things, they’ve changed now, haven’t they?”

I smile effortlessly. “Yes, Theo. For the first time in a very long while, I feel hopeful.”

Our peace is short-lived. We hear scuffling in the distance and Bets shouts to us, “Stay down.”

We turn to see Minns and Bets crouched behind a mossy oak tree, with an ominous grey, metallic orb floating above them. My thought turns to Troll. Minns and Etch were wrong. We are not alone in Farmington — the artificial ones who think remain around us, watching and wondering. The pilot within me reaches out. I feel Etch in the Fuerst. And I know he senses me as well. I send one word: danger.

Three more orbs appear from a garden of vines with bright yellow blooms. Another group of orbs approaches purposefully toward us from the lake.

“What the hell are these things?” Bets exclaims, more annoyed than frightened.

Minns sighs with frustration rather than fear. “The FRT left these drones to look for stragglers or squatters. We’ve been tagged. There’s no sense in running. They’ll stick to us like stink on a skunk.”

I laugh. What I would give to smell one of my stubborn black and white friends right now.

Theo’s less amused. “Do these things carry weapons?”

Minns stands up. “Only defensive. If we were to try to disable a drone, it’d give you a nasty shock. The FRT has been alerted and ships are assuredly on their way.”

I see a faint image of Etch or perhaps Fromer in my mind. It says, “Whack them.” I think this is strange and then I imagine swatting an annoying fly. Three of the drones drop into the lake.

“What on mars?” Minns asks.

I start swatting away in my mind and the drones drop — like flies. “Let’s run,” Bets shouts.

We’re speeding in the car toward the Fuerst through the city streets when two FRT vessels descend between two arched buildings, heading directly at us. For some reason, I know these are short-distance cruisers, built for speed and agility. They’ll overcome us easily. “Turn left and then right,” I yell to Minns. She hesitates for a moment and then complies, our heads nearly snapping off their necks. We descend into another tunnel, which descends deep below the surface. The voice in my head says, “Find the elevator. Rise to the roof top.”

Minns stops the car at my urging. We’re in a spacious storage facility, full of boxes and dusty vehicles. The only light comes from our car. “Where to now, Amy?” Theo asks.

“We’re to find something called an elevator. Minns, do you know what that is?”

“Yup. There are signs leading to one straight ahead.”

I turn to hear voices and see flashes of yellow light down the passageway from which we just emerged. “Let’s hustle. They’ll be here in a minute.” Minns gestures for us to follow her.

We enter a door marked with the words: air lock. I’m surprised that I can read them, although I’m unsure of their meaning. Minns searches the wall for something. “Look for a metal box full of buttons.”

“Is this it?” Bets asks.

“Good job my sweet,” Minns exclaims. With the flip of a lever, white light washes over us. She hits a red button on the door and it whines. “Stand back and watch the fun. The entire city is sectioned into air-tight compartments, in case the atmospheric containment field over us fails.” Minns looks at our blank faces. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you? Anyway, here we go. Our pursuers are going to experience some pain. We’re safe in this control room.”

The light turns red and a Troll-like voice says, “Air purge from storage compartment imminent. Take cover.” Four FRT soldiers arrive just as the air is sucked out of the space with a hiss. They fall to their knees, holding their ears and their throats. Within a minute, they’ve collapsed. Strange plastic bubbles grow around their heads.

“Those things on their heads are emergency breathing devices. Their suits will automatically recover them,” Minns remarks. “However, they’ll need some serious medical treatment for pressure sickness. We won’t be worrying about them anytime soon. Let’s look for our lift.”

We find the elevator in no time and ascend. At the top of the building, we gaze in dismay through a window at the scene before us. Five enormous Fuerst-like ships hover over the city, gleaming in the sun rising at the moon’s horizon. If Etch tries to launch, he’ll be pummeled.

“Those are definitely pirate, I mean, FRT ships.” Minns groans.

The roof of the room is a clear, glass-like substance, with a ladder leading to its surface. Beyond the ships I can see the sky in its glory. I think of Wenn and Eliza far away. Deep inside, I know they haven’t connected yet. I fear they’re both lost.

On earth spinning below us, Thresh moves deliberately toward the portal at Yellow Stone. I have no idea what I’m going to do if we make it there. All I want is my daughter back and to go home. Or do I? I’ve seen so many horrors and wonders recently. The universe has opened itself to me. And this thing called technology is complicated. Just like people, it seems to have captured the struggle between good and evil — something that the plants and soil in my garden never cared much about.

Theo puts his hand on my shoulder and I fall back into his arms. I glance at Bets. She seems unconcerned. Theo sighs, “So is this it for us? Etch’s damned if he rises into those ships.”

“Oh, don’t be so negative Theo.” Minns smacks his shoulder. “We should hold tight. Etch is a clever man. Even if he doesn’t make it, we’ve got an entire city at our disposal. We’ll just have to be discrete. It’s only a matter of time before the Institute forces regain control of this sector.”

“So why were you hiding on earth from the Institute if you’re so confident that they’ll welcome us?” I ask.

Minns groans. “Well, that’s a valid point. I suppose it all depends on what happens with the portal. If they try to hide it and protect it, then we’re going to know some stuff that’s pretty inconvenient for them. However, I think the box is opened don’t you? Every pilot throughout the fleet probably knows of its existence by now.”

“What are pilots going to think of this thing?” I ask no one in particular.

“What do you mean?” Minns is interested in my thoughts. Here I am a product of a world devoid of machines and space travel, and yet I’m quickly slipping into the other world, where technology dominates and too often placates the people it’s supposed to serve.

“I think the pilots will see the portal on earth as a blessing and a threat. From what I understand of it, it’s a doorway to other parts of space. It could make their jobs obsolete. On the other hand, it has endless possibilities for exploration. If pilots experience what I’ve experienced on earth through the portal’s effects, then they can travel to places that no one’s even dreamed of yet. Even places beyond space — where the others are from.”

Bets is perplexed. “Marksman, you’re saying that earth could become a place where pilots gather to explore all this?” She raises her hand to the glorious star-lit sky. “Like a monastery?”

“Yes, and they can explore what lies beyond the door — whatever that is — and teach us what they learn. Or the portal at Yellow Stone could become a bustling port for space ships moving through the doorway it makes to other worlds. But I fear it would ruin the nature around it. Earth may return to the mess of its past. The crazy part is, I think the reason the portal opened up is because the people, the technology, on earth went away. The earth healed and the doorway appeared.”

We watch the ships hover silently above the city. One of the ships suddenly bursts in flames as the building shudders, knocking us all back on our butts.

“That didn’t come from the surface.” Minns points to the sky.

A second blast concusses the air as the silhouette of another massive ship blacks out the stars overhead. I recognize it as my friend, the Raven.

The Fuerst rises from the cityscape and fires at the ships from below. Within moments, all five are charred and burning. Three leave orbit, one hangs vertically in the artificial moon air, and the fifth crashes into a nearby building with a sickening crunch. Flames burst forth and the ship and building are joined in fire and smoke.

The Fuerst approaches our building and hovers above us. The door opens and we climb into the ship. “Welcome friends,” Etch exclaims jubilantly. “We must go. More FRT dogs will be here soon.”

“To where?” Bets asks.

“Yellow Stone.”

The Fuerst flanked by the Raven rises above the city and the moon shrinks. And then I see earth for the first time. It is absolutely breathtaking in its dizzying variations of white, green, brown, and blue. I know that I must place it in my care at any cost.

As we descend toward the planet, I crouch down next to Etch in his pilot’s chair. “Thank you.”

“For what, my dear one?”

“You helped my knock out the drones.”

He looks confused — or at least that’s my interpretation of the expression on his insect face. He tilts his head. “Drones? I provided you with directions to the tower telepathically. But I did not tell you about how to defeat the drones.”

“Then who was that talking in my head?”

“Mysteries never cease Amy Marksman. This makes the fight worth fighting do you not think?”

Chapter 60 – Yellow Stone

The Fuerst skims through the air. The Raven trails behind us like a puppy following an older dog through the yard. The sky’s clear and the mountains extend forever. We glide past a sharp, snow-dusted mountain peak.

“There it is.” Etch is eating something that looks like an enormous pickled spider.

Below us stretches a huge, orange-yellow lake, tendrils of steam rising from tiny, angry white caps. It’s impossible for me to gauge its size from our perch in the sky. The lake’s encircled by a wall of crumbled rock, as if it is tucked away in a giant pie crust.

“The lake is in the crater of a recent magma bubble. Look closer Amy.”

Etch drops the Fuerst lower and I can now see the waves and steam clearly. Between the humps of swirling water and sea foam, I see something else, difficult to process, but very real. There are stars in the bottom of the lake.

“A good pilot will be able to navigate the waves and find passage to many places.” Etch grins. “It is something to behold is it not?”

“How to navigate it, though? It seems so complex.”

Etch points to his head and then points to my forehead. “You know you can do it Amy Marksman. This is what you were born to do.”

The Fuerst and Raven proceed to the north bank of the great lake. On the edge is a large village with lumbering stone walls. At turrets along the walls, men and women with a mix of leather armor and Institute-issue clothes point at us. They carry swords and staffs — no rifles or other weapons are apparent. There’s no telling how long the Phobos has been in contact with them. But obviously some trade has occurred. I hope that they don’t have stronger weapons at their disposal.

Etch lands the Fuerst at a cozy clearing on the edge of the walled town. The Raven sets down nearby. A group of villagers approaches the ships as we climb down. I recognize one of the men in the lead — Wenn. He’s smiling and waving at us. I look at Theo nervously, while Theo rushes forward and embraces his friend as if nothing happened between him and me.

“Well, I’m thankful to see you.” Wenn hugs me tightly. “We were afraid that you were FRT ships. Captain Leo warned us that they’d come and destroy us. They want the portal — the lake — to themselves.”

Etch and Minns introduce themselves as we walk toward the city’s main gate. An odd looking metal fence with a yellowish hue surrounds the entire stoned edifice.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“Fromer had us build it. It keeps the things from the fog from getting into the town. We use the same material in our weapons. He pats his scabbard. So far, the fence seems to work for the town. No more ghouls or ghosts roaming the streets at night. The open coast — well that’s another story.” His face goes dark, briefly revealing the Wenn we saw at the lodge. “No one travels alone out there during the night. You won’t come back, alive that is.”

“Eliza?” I gaze at him hopefully.

His face falls into darkness again. “No. We need to talk. But first, let’s get you comfortable and safe. Did you all see Leo?”

We exchange worried glances. Etch speaks. “Leo tells us to give you his best. We are in command for now until Institute reinforcements arrive.”

Wenn nods in approval.

Yellow Stone is a city built for battle. An inner wooden wall protects the tiny houses. Strange weapons that Wenn calls catapults face the outer cobbled walls. The smell of grilling meat permeates the sulfuric stench wafting off the lake. I wrinkle my nose. “You get used to the smell,” Wenn laughs.

We settle into our modest dwelling near the central city square. A life-sized, bronzed statue of Fromer stands among newly blossomed daisies and black-eyed wildflowers. I groan in disbelief. Etch chuckles.

Wenn has arranged a feast for us. Etch eats heartily, while the rest of us pick at our meal. Theo sets down a mug of grape wine and wipes purple froth from his mouth. “Wenn, you must tell us how you arrived here.”

“I expected you to ask. I thought I’d better get a few pints in me before telling my story. The day after leaving camp, I knew I’d made a mistake. I’m man enough to admit it. I slipped down the hill and picked up Thresh’s trail. Not such a hard task given how sloppy she and her beasts be. The weather got worse and I thought I’d surely perish from exposure. However, I managed to find a small empty town, where I hunkered down and waited out the storm.”

I rise and pour him another glass from a cask. He touches my rear — not so subtly. This time, Theo notices.

“Thanks Amy, my dear. Once the snow cleared, I started tracking again. Figured the weather would slow the woman as much as me. Sure enough, I picked up a fresh trail fairly quickly. Then, I found the village. Twas awful, it was.” His eyes grow vacant.

“This village was not like the one I’d just been in, which appeared to be abandoned on the peoples’ own accord. Instead, this village experienced the wrath of that demon. She killed everyone in the town and impaled them on sticks.” He grows quiet.

Bets is enthralled and appalled. “Why’d she do something so — unthinkable?”

Wenn gulps his ale. “To scare us, I suppose. Or maybe just because she could. It gets worse. She revived them with that damned fog. They were dead but conscious on the spikes. They pleaded for help from me. There were hundreds of them. Children too. They wanted me to help them down and let them go.”

I realize that Eliza probably witnessed this horror, making me want to gouge me eardrums out. Anything would be better than hearing this story. If I ever do rescue my girl, will I be able to save her soul? I find it strange that Wenn betrays no concern for our daughter in his story. It’s all about Thresh.

Bets squints. “So, what’d you do, Wenn?”

“I spent the day being merciful. That’s all I’ll say. I was too shaken to rest so I continued tracking Thresh. I found them the next day as the snow started turning to rain and mud — again. Excuse me.” He leaves to relieve himself.

Minns holds Bets hand. “Holy shit. Do you think he’s telling the truth?”

I wipe away a tear. “Yes, I do.”

Theo gently puts his hand on my arm. “So, he didn’t find Eliza. What do you think happened?”

“Let’s find out.” I’m shaking.

Wenn steps back into the hall and slumps into his chair, which creaks in protest with his drunken weight. “So, here I am on the outskirts of Thresh’s camp. The mud was doing a number on them. The grubs were nowhere to be seen — I reckon the water washes them away and they can’t reform until the weather dries up. Thresh had a small army of dead men — likely villagers from back there — setting up a couple of canvas tents. She had about ten horses, several cattle, and a few living men with her. The one called Jonah was slogging in the mud barking orders and Thresh was cursing up a storm. She was concerned about making dry space for Eliza.” His voice cracks at our daughter’s name.

“So you saw her?” I ask desperately.

“No, I didn’t.” He takes another large draught from his tankard. “I was discovered. Barely escaped with my life.” And his story ends abruptly.

“How’d you escape?” Bets is disappointed.

“Three of Thresh’s soldiers saw me and pursued. The mud was pretty thick and deep. They fell into a swollen stream and were washed downhill. I managed to shimmy to an outcropping and wait the weather out. Once the rain stopped, I started climbing back up the mountain. I found a path and eventually made it back here.”

“That’s it?” I plead. “You could’ve come back to us at the lodge and told us where Thresh was. We may have been able to track and pursue her once the Fuerst arrived.

“Amy, we know where she is. She arrived here a couple of weeks after me. Since then, she’s been camped out on the west side of the lake and her numbers are growing. Each day, more of that infernal fog seeps out and makes all kinds of beasts. If it weren’t for our weapons and the fence, Yellow Stone would be wiped from the map.”

My latent anger at Wenn solidifies. “You mean to tell me that our daughter is merely on the other side of the lake and you haven’t rescued her? You have Fromer’s weapons here, seasoned troops, even an Institute starship and you haven’t tried to get Eliza? What’s the matter with you?”

Wenn’s incensed. “Amy, who do you think you are? Are you willing to risk the safety of all the people in this town, the last defense against those things in the bottom of lake, for your selfish needs?”

“My needs, Wenn? She’s our daughter. And from what everyone seems to think, she may be the future gatekeeper for this place, whatever that means. The girl’s got my abilities. If Thresh harnesses them, it could be disastrous for all of us, including this precious town and most importantly, you.”

Wenn stands unsteadily, his face fiery red. He throws his chair to the floor and storms out. Theo sighs. “Well, Sprouter, you’ve certainly made him pissy.”

I turn to Theo coldly. “And you Theo. You are Eliza’s godfather. There’s responsibility in that. Why are you standing up for that coward? We need to go now. Thresh must be stopped before it’s too late.”

Etch’s throat rumbles. “Amy Marksman. Do not lose your perspective here. I agree that the man Wenn should have worked with us to rescue your daughter. However, we must not attack Thresh in haste. We have to make preparations to destroy her and to rescue your daughter.”

I’m not happy with Etch either. I leave them at the table, stumbling into the dark town square. Fromer’s cold, lifeless statue stares at me blankly, mocking me. Wenn was right about one thing — the smell of the lake has lessened. I throw a stone at the fake Fromer and walk down one of the shadowy streets. I pass warmly lit windows seeing families do what they’ve been unable to do in so many other places — gather, eat, and laugh. It’s odd that this village is intact so close to danger, while those hundreds of miles away have succumbed to the disease oozing from this forsaken lake water.

I find steps along the wall and climb, discovering that I’ve approached a turret. The night watchman there looks at me curiously. “What’re you doing here stranger?”

“Just getting some fresh air.”

He tells me to walk to the west wall, saying that a constant breeze from a nearby mountain pass is delicious. He swears it picks up all the scents of the spring wildflowers and concentrates them in a sustained blast of fragrance. I walk to the spot and am transported to another place and time. I close my eyes and see the gardens of home. They’re overgrown with weeds and wildflowers and more beautiful than ever. Birds flit through the trees and my trees are full of blossoms.

“The green ones you played with in the garden are an alien species called the xyn.” Fromer’s voice startles me back to reality.

“Fromer. Where the hell did you come from?”

“This lake is my portal, too. Did you think I can just wink in and out of earth at will? Doesn’t work that way. I need a pathway. Portals like these are littered throughout the universe, if you know where to look. People like humans, naurons, and zenatans trampled the natural portals with pollution and wanton destruction. Technology helped them but it doesn’t have to. Earth’s recovered from humanity for now.”

“So, the green beings are real and not in my imagination?”

“Of course, they’re real. The xyn have long known about the relationship between the natural world, living things, and portals. A few of them decided to pay you and your ancestors regular visits. Let’s just say they’re rooting for you.”

“How’d you know I was thinking of the garden?”

“You weren’t just thinking about it. You were there for a moment. You’re able to use the living growing things on this planet like a communications network. This is the reason you’re a natural pilot. You can travel all around. Etch is not nearly as good as you are. But he’s catching on. Melat was a natural like you. But someone beyond the universe exposed a weakness in her and exploited it. Interestingly, Thresh has a similar weakness.” Fromer shrugs.

I want to be angry at Fromer — blame him for this condition. But I can’t seem to keep the flame burning in my gut. It seems I’ve used up all my energy on Wenn and the others. “Fromer, are you going to keep manipulating us?”

He seems genuinely surprised. “What do you mean Amy? I have done no such thing. As I’ve said before, I cannot interfere in your affairs.”

“Are you kidding me, Fromer? Look at this place. It’s fortified with tools that you’ve given them. You brought Wenn and father to them when they needed help.”

Fromer smiles mischievously. “The watchkeeper has to wind the clock occasionally or it will stop. That doesn’t mean he controls the passage of time. Amy, you have and always will have free will. I can’t tell you, of all people, what to do.”

I rush him, my face in his chest. I stand on my toes and stare at his angular face. My anger’s back. “What freedom do I have when you keep manipulating the playing board? I feel like a chess player responding to each of your moves.”

“Well, I must confess. This may be somewhat true. I’m happy to know that you are an accomplished player.”

“Do we kill Thresh and get Eliza back?”

“I can’t tell you that. Honestly, I don’t know. Each time I move into the future, it changes. The past is firm. The path ahead — it wiggles and jumps.”

“If I become the — what do you call it — gatekeeper, will I be able to move through time?”

“No. To do that, you must completely abandon your attachment to this reality. You would lose your ability to be a part of your world — you’d be unattached, like me and the dead.”

“So, you are a ghost.”

“Not yet, thankfully. However, I can only stick around for a short while before I begin to fade away, back into the ether. I belong in there and what lies beyond.” He gestures to the lake.

“Will I be able to see the dead?”

“Yes, Amy. You’re mother is eager to see you.”

I feel cold, thinking of her death.

“I bid you good luck, Amy Marksman. You mother will be very proud of you when you meet.” He turns and bounds along the wall. He jumps over, falling an impossible height. I run, looking over the railing. He’s vanished in the mist hanging from the lake below.

I must have been a little drunk because I have a wicked headache and really want water. I walk cautiously back to my room in the darkness. There are a few lamps in the streets, but they are unable to penetrate the strange absence of light here at night. I wonder whether the lake is sucking the errant evening light into it — a giant vacuum for the energy around us.

I fetch a drink and lay back on my bed. I’m drifting off to sleep when Wenn stumbles in. “Amy, wake up. We’ve got to talk.”

“I’m not sleeping, Wenn. We can talk when you sober up.”

“Now. Not later. How dare you embarrass me in front of everyone? You think I’m a coward. But look at this place. The people here consider me their leader. They need me.”

I’m exhausted and want this stranger to leave. “Wenn, I don’t know who you are anymore. You left the village a sweet man. Now, you are selfish and, worse, self-important. I’m done with you.”

“Wife. You dare not speak to your husband that way.” He walks toward me with his hand raised.

I should feel fear, but nothing but pity and disappointment well up. Wenn strikes me across the face and my mind reaches out finding Etch nearby. He hits me again and again, although I float above the pain. Finally, Etch and Theo bound through the door, knocking Wenn on the floor.

Theo holds my face, “Are you alright?”

Wenn stands, slurring, “I knew it. Theo, you’ve stolen her from me. Amy, he’s wanted you all his life. Once I’ve turned my back, at no fault of mine, you leap.” He lunges at Theo but Etch holds him back effortlessly.

“Wenn, you have made an enemy of me tonight. This is not to be taken lightly. If you touch Amy Marksman again, I will tear you into pieces.”

Etch releases my husband who scurries out the door into the suffocating darkness outside.

“Thanks you two,” I sigh. “I don’t know who he is anymore. What are we going to do? We need him to convince the villagers to help us defeat Thresh and defend this place from the outsiders.”

“I guess we’ll be evicted from Yellow Stone in the morning.” Theo dabs my bloody lip with a cloth. “Any ideas ‘bout what we ought to do?”

Etch rubs his chin. “I think that I should pay Wenn another visit.” He leaves, with Theo and I looking perplexed and a little concerned.

“What do you think Etch’s got in mind?” Theo asks.

“I don’t know, but please lie down with me.”

As we rest listening to our breathing and the gentle lapping of the lake on its shore, we jump slightly at the sound of the Fuerst lifting off. “There goes Etch and Wenn,” I surmise as I drift into slumber.

I shouldn’t be surprised that sleep would be eventful so close to the portal, but I am. Within moments, I’m in the body of something new. It feels like a grub but it’s more intelligent, dangerous, and huge. I turn its head to have a look around and see Yellow Stone shimmering dimly across the lake. I smell decay and sulfur all around the place. Looking down, I see that there’s a huge camp of buildings assembled haphazardly with rough-hewn pine boards. Creatures, both dead and alive, shuffle among the buildings with cautious purpose. A feel a rush and there’s Thresh.

“Well, hello Amy. Trying to highjack my friends again?”

I think to myself, if she only knew what I could do to her mind. “Thresh. You have no chance. Give me back Eliza and you can slink in the lake. Go somewhere far away and disappear. Otherwise, you will die.”

Thresh giggles in the void. “You have no plan, Amy. Give up while you can. Eliza is growing quickly. She’s beginning to talk up a storm. In fact, she called my husband, Jonah, daddy today. We’ve become a very close family. And I’m teaching her so much.”

I try to push away and re-enter the beast. I could inflict considerable damage with that thing. Light bursts forward and I’m free from Thresh, but I’m not in anything. Rather, I’m floating in some strange limbo, not unlike the sensation I had while disembodied in the Raven’s circuitry.

“Hello again Amy, good to see you so soon.” Warm comfort engulfs me. Fromer’s here with me, although I can’t see him.

“Where am I?”

“It’s time for your lesson.”

“What are you going to teach me?”

“How to kick Thresh into hell. You’ve been dabbling with these abilities. But it’s time for you to master them.”

“Where’s Thresh?”

“She’s like you, playing with powers that she hardly understands. In the Institute, children identified with the power to be pilots are recruited early and train for years before being given a ship. Not only do you have to learn how to commune with a ship like the Raven, you need to learn how to control the telepathic pathways this portal is giving you. Even I don’t know the limit to your abilities.”

“I don’t want this, Fromer.”

“You don’t have a choice Amy. Luckily, you have a teacher and that evil woman does not.”

After what seems like days in this weird dream, I awake to Theo’s even breathing. From the look of the sky, I’ve been asleep for no more than an hour.

I wrap myself in Theo’s large shirt and head outside. The constellation of the archer is low in the sky, reminding me of Bets for some reason. I climb the stairs and stare at the lake. After Fromer’s tutelage in my extended dream, the lake is no longer chaotic to me, but organized. I can see pathways swirling in the currents. I can hear voices drifting in the wind.

“There you are. And there’s my shirt.” Theo’s standing next to me, shirtless and looking cold.

“Sorry. I’ve no idea how long I’ve been standing here.”

“It’s nearly dawn.” He peers at my face. “Dear gods. That bastard really went to town on you. If he touches you again, he’s dead.”

“I think Etch has the first rights,” I laugh, hurting my mouth.

As if on cue, the Fuerst appears in the sky, landing in the same spot. Theo clucks. “Etch and Wenn are back. I wonder what they did?”

“It’s probably best not to ask.”

At dawn, a bell rings in the town square. Sleepy villagers assemble in the moist, morning cold. Wenn stands on a platform, dressed in his finest clothes. Etch is absent, but I suspect he’s watching remotely.

Bets and Minns join Theo and I in the back of the crowd. “What’s Wenn up to?” Bets murmurs.

Wenns puffs up. “People of Yellow Stone. As you know, we have important visitors. They are here to purge the evil amassing at the lake’s edge and allow us to take back our land and water.”

The crowd begins chattering. We receive curious glances. An old woman asks, “Where’s the one that looks like Fromer? Is he here to save us?”

Wenn nods. “His name is Etch. He is very old and wise. He’s traveled through the sky and will help us.”

“What happened to the other ship? The one with Captain Leo?”

“The Captain will return with more items to trade. Our relationship with the ones called the Institute remains strong. In a fortnight, we will attack the ones camped on the west shore. We have another guest, who is of great importance. She is the keeper. She’s come to banish the fog and its illness from our world.” He points at me and the entire crowd turns, staring at me and my bruised face. What must they think of the tiny beaten woman wrapped in a worn blanket? “Amy Marksman, please come forward.”

I look at Theo, who’s dumbstruck. He opens his eyes wide, sighs, and motions me forward. I shuffle forward, all faces following me. I find myself standing next to the man who beat me only a few hours earlier.

“Amy, what do you have to say to us?”

I’m back around the fire in the village, with the teacher forcing me to address the crowd about the season’s harvest. My throat seizes and I want to run. How is it that I can stand down a demon from another world but fear a crowd of townspeople?

My voice cracks. “I am Amy, a garden tender. I know who is tormenting you and she seeks to destroy all of us.” I lift my arms. “All of this. Everything we hold dear and love, she reviles. The god Fromer, who you all revere, is my friend and teacher. He tells me that I am the one who will deliver us from this evil thing. I also will keep the lake from ever hurting anyone again. The portal within the deep waters will serve us for peace and prosperity, not harm. I cannot do this alone, however. I ask you to join me — help me — to save this place and our very souls.”

The crowd is silent. One person claps and then another. Within moments, the square fills with clapping, shouts, and laughter. I’m apparently the only one in the group that feels like crying.

Over the next few days, Wenn retreats into the shadows, while Etch, Theo, Minns, Bets, and

I are eagerly embraced by the villagers. The town sheriff, a short, gruff fellow named Ricard, has given us his full attention and access to his best troops. He stares at me constantly, as if he’s trying to determine what magic I possess or whether I’m a complete fraud. I’m completely ordinary — not like Etch or Fromer. What miracles can they expect from me?

At night, Fromer continues to give me lessons in my dreams. I can possess many grubs at once. Thresh indeed has no idea that I can step into her mind, although Fromer assures me that this will not last much longer. To my relief, he shows me that Thresh is unable to occupy me in the same way, because I have long learned to close my mind to outside influence. I’m quite proud of my stubborn streak and delighted to find that it translates to my telepathy.

The lake fascinates me. The more I study it, the more I see patterns and connections. I’ve discovered where the fog emerges and catch glimpses of the eyeless, lifeless ones beyond the portal. They are indeed like the grubs and other creatures wandering around Thresh’s camp. Their home in the void has no light nor warmth. Life confuses them and fills them with rage. They will do anything to suffocate it, stamp it out like the last few embers of a fire. Somehow, the travel of the pilot’s ships through the non-place called infraspace has disturbed them. Most importantly, they want revenge.

I want Fromer to show me how to close the door to these beings. About this, he is annoyingly coy. I wonder whether he’s as unsure about this tactic as I am. He provides one clue — I will need help from the other side of the portal to accomplish this task. Who will be providing the assistance is anyone’s guess.

Bets and Minns have become Ricard’s lieutenants, teaching him how to use some of the simpler weapons from the arsenals in the Fuerst and Raven. We’ve debated the wisdom of distributing this technology to the villagers. But to have a chance against the enormous creatures wandering Thresh’s camp, we have no choice. In private, Etch has warned us that the Institute and FRT forces will be back soon and we’ll need the ability to defend ourselves from them as well.

The fighters in the village are well trained and eager to learn. Most barely remember a time when the horrific creatures didn’t roam their land, taking their family and friends. The recent arrival of Thresh has incensed them — they’ve been looking for a leader to concentrate their frustration and fear. We’re giving them hope and purpose.

Ricard and I have become good friends, much to my relief. He is a few years older than me and moved to Yellow Stone when he was very young. His hometown, east of the mountains, was destroyed by raiders — just ordinary evil people — no monsters or corpses. His father was killed in the attack. His mother and aunt escaped and managed to make it up the mountain with him to Yellow Stone. He quickly rose as a leader in the village, being well known for his ability to fight the strange beings appearing on the lake’s shores. When Wenn, father, and Fromer arrived, he welcomed them. His wise judgment solidified his standing with the people. He apparently views me similarly and is helping elevate my standing with the villagers.

Ricard, Bets, and Minns have begun training our troops. While they fight imaginary monsters that will too soon be real, Etch has been giving me flying lessons in the Raven. The ship has given its soul to me. I’ve found that tending it is as satisfying and rewarding as caring for the gardens back home. I use the ship’s synthesizers to replace worn parts and renew the interior. I spend hours sitting in the pilot’s chair exploring the ship’s intricate systems, discovering new abilities and ways to reach out beyond myself. The ship is more than a means of transportation. It’s a place for self-exploration and meditation.

Theo and I have been making up for a lifetime’s worth of affection. Although it hurts for me to admit it, Wenn spoke the truth in many ways. Theo and I were meant for each other at the start. I drown each time I see those blue eyes giving themselves to me. This is a strangely happy time and I know it will end too soon. He feels similarly. When he’s not training, he spends much of his time sitting on the city wall puffing on his pipe or doting on me back in our little house.

Our planned attack on Thresh’s camp nears. We are eating breakfast when Bets appears. “Wenn’s gone.”

Theo’s sausage drops off his fork. “Bets, what exactly do you mean by that?”

Bets rolls her eyes and snatches Theo’s meat off his plate. “Exactly that. He’s nowhere to be seen. The best I can tell from talking with people, he’s left the village.”

Minns walks in at the tail end of the conversation. “It gets worse. One of our scouts reported seeing him walking toward Thresh’s camp.”

Etch growls. “Traitorous, horrid human. How much does he know of our battle plans?”

“Luckily, very little.” Bets sips some coffee. “Ricard left him in the dark and actually fed him some misinformation. I really like that little man.”

“Are you sure that he’s going over to betray us?” I hope Wenn hasn’t lost every bit of the man he once was.

“Why else would he go Marksman?” Bets shakes her head. “I mean, look what he did to you.”

“Bets, we’ve completely shut him out. Maybe this is his way to try to regain some honor, even if it’s suicidal.” Now, of all times, I’m trying to save the poor man’s honor.

“Nope, don’t buy it,” Minns exclaims.

Chapter 61 – Confrontation

Today, I may get my daughter back. Or I may die. Almost every able man and woman in the town will descend upon Thresh’s camp in a full assault. Our goal is simple — isolate Thresh and kill her. Supposedly, this will send the monsters and living dead into chaos, allowing me to do whatever it is that Fromer wants me to do. I’m vexed that Fromer has not yet revealed how I am to stop these things from entering our world.

Etch raises the Fuerst and fires volleys of light at the camp. We see from the distance that the camp is in flame, all the makeshift buildings burning like matchsticks. I can only hope that Eliza is not in one of them. Somewhere deep inside, I know that she’s fine. Unfortunately, I can feel that Thresh also is well.

Our forces connect with Thresh’s menagerie at mid-morning. At the front is our riflemen picking off living and dead soldiers. Some of Thresh’s forces are archers, lobbing arrows at us. We treat the razor-sharp projectiles as annoying flies because they cannot penetrate the hybrid leather-Institute armor we’re wearing. Grubs and much larger monsters lumber toward us. Oxen pull the catapults forward. Brawny men load large, yellow metallic balls containing the magic alloy and fire them at the creatures. With each impact, even the largest beasts collapse into piles of sludge. Fromer’s technology is amazing and welcome.

By lunchtime, we are milling through the burning husk of Thresh’s camp. There’s no sign of the evil woman, her husband, or my daughter. Wenn’s absent as well. I run from building to building calling Eliza’s name. I’m greeted by the groans of the dying or already dead.

Theo finds me in the rubble. “Amy, where’s the witch?”

I’m distraught. “I’ve no idea. I can still feel her. She’s not far away, but I don’t know where she’s hiding.”

Theo looks at the lake. “What about in there?”

“But how?”

We spend the afternoon cleaning up the stragglers and the poor conscious corpses. We’ve done everything but accomplish our goal.

As I consider the setting sun, it occurs to me that the answer may rest in the Raven. The ship allows me to expand my reach and see deep within the lake and the surrounding mountains. If Thresh and Jonah are hiding, I may be able to find them. Etch agrees to join me.

We step into the Raven just as the sun goes dark and the moon rises in full brilliance. “Hello Amy and Etch, what a nice surprise.”

“Hello my sweet ship.” I pat the hull and settle in my chair. “We’ve got some searching to do.”

Etch closes the hatch and straps himself into a passenger seat. The Raven lifts and glides over the center of the lake. I look down, searching the swirling portals for any sign of my nemesis and my daughter. I can see thousands of worlds out there, beckoning to me. How can I find them in this infinite expanse? I can feel them, though. They’re not far away.

We continue searching through the night. Etch brings me a cup of hot tea and pats my hand. “Amy Marksman, you will find them. Be patient.” I sip the hot liquid and let my mind rest for a moment. Then I see it. A large pocket of air is trapped on the bottom of the lake, engulfed by something strange and impermeable. I shift the image to the screen. “Etch, look at this.”

“Well I will be. I have never seen anything like this. I gather that Thresh, her nefarious friends, and Eliza are sitting there? There is an old story from earth’s history about a man named Moses.”

I look at him blankly.

“This human, Moses, possessed great abilities. He was a pilot, like us, I think. The fable goes that he was able to part a large lake, allowing his followers to escape their persecutors. In this case, I suggest we part the water to extract our enemies.” He chuckles.

“Tractor field?” I ask.

He nods. “The Fuerst and Raven, working together, can easily part the waves. We send our troops in and extract our adversaries.”

I land the Raven gently by the ruined camp. Theo and Bets greet us. Theo hugs me. “What’ve you found Sprouter?”

“Hope.”

Pillars of fire belch black smoke into the dawn light. The flames are beautiful, cleansing. I walk to the shore and see hundreds of tracks — both human and animal — leading into the water. Thresh has an entire army submerged beneath the choppy surface.

Bets leads our troops to the water’s edge. Many of the villagers are skeptical. Ricard, standing next to Theo, addresses the assembled column. “My brothers and sisters. This is finally our chance to purge the threat that has terrified us for a generation. I know some of you doubt that an entire army of death lies beneath these waves. But how is this any different than the foul breath of demons that is exhaled by this lake every day? For us to taste victory, we must look into the mouth of evil. Be brave, be strong. Follow us to victory.”

The crowd yells in agreement. Theo nods at me and I send the Raven into the sky. Within a few moments, the Fuerst joins me. “Amy, are you ready to unleash hell?”

“Etch, I thought this was hell. It’s time for us to make it stop.”

We position our beloved ships at either side of the submerged bubble and concentrate our tractor fields. The yellow water froths and boils as a trough appears, leading up to the troops at the shoreline. The men and women stand there watching in awe as the sandy lake bottom is exposed. Bets is perched in front of the column with one hand on her hip and the other on her forehead, a strange smile smeared across her face. Minns and Theo ride back and forth on horseback, making sure that the awestruck soldiers are ready to fight.

Etch and I continue pulling at the water, the Fuerst and Raven showing no signs of strain or struggle. The trough is now a deep crevasse. The edge of the bubble appears as a fibrous, skin-like mass adhered to the sand and cobble on the lake bottom. The bodies of thousands of fish and worms wriggle in the unearthly mesh.

“Looks like they figured out how to make the fog work in water,” I say to Etch.

“Agreed. Let us hope that Fromer’s weapons can pierce that material. I have never seen anything like it in all my days.”

Ricard and Theo order the troops to move the catapults into position. The first metal ball streaks through the air, only to bounce off the fleshy barrier with no effect. Ricard shouts more orders and a column of soldiers moves forward into the trough, looking nervously at the walls of water. They hack at the bubble with their swords and axes, with little impact. Theo stares at me in the Raven and shrugs.

I close my eyes and relax, trying to penetrate the barrier. I feel Fromer and he’s grinning. I tunnel forward and am sitting in the head of an enormous creature with fleshy, muscular tentacles and surprisingly good vision. This is not a creature of earth, but strangely it is in the lake. It’s as curious about its plight as I am. “Where am I?” it asks in a language that I have no business understanding.

I answer. “A place called earth and I suspect a mutual friend has brought us together. I need your help if you don’t mind. We can then find your way back home.”

I travel with it to the bubble and its tentacles grab onto the fleshy wall. The soldiers run back toward shore. With great effort, the tentacles tear a seam in the fabric of the barrier. Air escapes with a terrific hiss and the rip expands to a huge rift. “Thank you,” I say to the creature. “I’ll return soon.”

An eerie green glow emanates from the hole. Ricard yells and our troops advance into the trough, weapons gleaming silver-yellow. A grub-like creature with enormous hands that look oddly human skitters out of the seam. A catapult ball arcs overhead and hits the thing on the head. It falls forward and a tentacle pulls it into the surrounding water. It dissolves instantly.

Our troops yell and whoop as they disappear within the vast space under the lake, with Theo and Bets in the lead. “Etch, what are we to do now?”

“Patience, my dear girl. Have some faith that they will be victorious.”

I cannot be patient however. I search the landscape for a bird or insect to inhabit. I find a hummingbird that has just returned from its winter home, happily feeding on wildflower nectar. “Sorry buddy,” I whisper as I direct it into the rift.

The interior of the bubble is filled with shouts and the metallic smell of blood. Thresh’s goons are struggling against our forces, but holding their own. The few grubs that have survived are taking their toll on our fighters. Several torn bodies, some who I recognize, litter the sand.

At the far side in the greenish light, Thresh and Jonah are perched on Silius and Phineus. Eliza holds on tight to Thresh’s waist. They’re surrounded by dead men with swords. In the center of the line stands Wenn, his eyes vacant and a portion of his skull missing. Jonah is terrified and Thresh looks anguished.

The bird flies closer and Thresh swivels, looking straight at it. I swear she knows it’s me. I fly the bird behind a large shuffling body. Thresh throws a dagger at it and the cadaver falls. I fly the hummer up and out of the rift.

I return fully to the Raven, letting the little bird return to its foraging. “Send in more troops,” I announce through the ship’s speaker. Ricard nods and a group of heavily armored men enter the rift carrying maces.

After a long hour, Thresh, Jonah, and about twenty men emerge from the seam, our troops prodding them forward. Eliza’s in Theo’s arms. Once the fighters have left the trough, Etch and I release the water and the hellish, swarming bubble and a few living corpses are swallowed by the lake.

I’m relieved to see Phineus and Silius in Theo’s care. I extend my mind to them and feel joy at the reunion.

“Ready to land?” Etch brings the Fuerst down.

“In a moment. I have one thing to do.” I leave my body. “Fromer, where are you? You can’t just leave that tentacled beast alone, away from its home.”

“Of course not.” His voice is so close that he could be sitting in the Raven with me. “Bring the Raven above the lake.”

I hover at about 200 meters and Fromer asks, “Can you see it yet?”

I look down, and between the yellow waves I see a blue planet with what looks like a tiny pinprick on its surface. “Lead your friend here.”

I reach out and experience the creature in its entirety. It has two grey, wise eyes, pink tentacles, and a giant beak. It whispers, “I’m the Kraken of old. Count on me, if you need me again.” It slips into the portal in the bottom of the lake and returns home.

The Raven lands softly on the coast. The prisoners are shackled, lying face down in the prickly grass. I rush through the hatch and there she is, still in Theo’s arms. Thresh yells, “Don’t trust her Eliza. I’m your mommy.” Bets hits Thresh in the head with her staff and the ragged woman in a tattered red dress falls silent.

My hands shake as I approach the impossibly beautiful but terribly filthy little girl. “Do you know who I am?”

Eliza tilts her head. “Where’s Magarat?”

“I don’t know. I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

“Mommy says that you’re all bad people. I want to go home with her, now.”

Theo pats her. “We can’t do that, Liza. I’m your Uncle Theo and this is your real mommy.” Theo begins walking with her to a small cart with a donkey.

Eliza struggles in his arms, bawling. “Momma, daddy. Don’t let them take me.” Theo sets her down in the cart and I join her. I feel wretched.

“Amy, you know this ain’t gonna be easy. I’m here to help you. Always.” Theo grabs my arm firmly.

As we clop into Yellow Stone, children and old folks gather to greet us. I stare at them, smiling tepidly. Eliza’s quiet again, scrunched in the back of the cart. A woman in a dirty dress stands at the side of the road amongst the villagers. Her skin’s darker than that of the others — obviously a foreigner. It takes me a second, but I recognize her as Magarat. “Theo, stop the cart.”

Magarat obviously does not see Eliza in the bottom of the cart but does see me. I must be a frightening sight, with my frazzled hair, wild eyes, shaking arms, and pale skin. She recedes into the crowd and is about to bolt away. “Wait, Magarat. Stop, please. I have Eliza with me. You’ve nothing to fear.”

She pauses, confused and terrified. Then she squints, tilting her head. “You’re the real mother, aren’t you?”

I nod anxiously. “She’s over here, in the cart. We need you.”

Magarat climbs up and Eliza clamps onto her, elated. “Shh, there, there girl. We’ve got a lot of explaining to do. Healing too.” Magarat looks up to me. “What happened to that woman? Is she dead?”

“No.”

Magarat panics. “We’ve got to hide, now.”

“It’s okay. We have her as prisoner.”

“She’ll escape, conjuring those demons to do her bidding.”

“Not if I have a choice in the matter.”

“We met, didn’t we?”

“Yes, Magarat. I was able to — occupy — Thresh for a moment. That’s when I asked you to kill her. It was a terrible thing to ask you to do. I’m so sorry I put you in that position.”

“I’d have gladly done it if I knew I could.”

We head to the city center and get some food into Eliza. Magarat cleans herself up and puts on a fresh dress. She’s a beautiful woman, even if she’s a little worn.

“Thanks so much for caring for Eliza,” I say, combing my hair.

“Didn’t have much say in the matter. That woman, she killed my husband and my little boy.” Her voice trails off.

“I’m so very sorry for you.”

“You’re like her, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean Magarat?”

“You’re able to control things, take possession. A terrible power you have.”

“Well, it’s not like I have much of a choice in the matter.” I pause gazing at my daughter who doesn’t know who I am. “Does Eliza show any of these abilities?”

Magarat does not answer. “Do you mind if I get some rest m’am? I’m dead tired.”

I nod as the haggard woman leaves me alone with my daughter. Eliza’s immediately concerned. “Where’s Magarat?”

“She went to get some sleep, sweetheart. Do you want to play?”

“Sure.”

I pull out a small doll that I borrowed from one of the neighbors. She eagerly takes the toy and begins talking to it in a language I don’t recognize. I suppose it’s similar to the gibberish I used when trying to escape Troll.

Theo appears. “How’re you faring?”

“We’ll manage. What of the prisoners?”

“They’re locked away. The sooner we dispatch Thresh, the better for all of us.”

“I’m having trouble with that. It’s one thing to kill her in battle. But to execute her in cold blood — that’s not something I’ve much of a stomach for.”

“You telling me that this woman who’s stolen your baby, killed most everyone you loved, and wants to destroy all that is right and clean should be spared? Not to mention that she could conjure more of those things from the lake? Did you fall off a horse and damage your head?”

“I pity her, Theo. The power’s destroyed her. The same could easily happen to me.”

He kneels down and tries to pet Eliza’s head. The girl will have none of that and scampers away into a corner. He steps back. “Amy, you are good. Your soul’s good. You’d never go foul like that. Thresh must die and soon, before we’re pickled again.”

The town square bell rings unexpectedly. “What’s going on?” This can only be bad.

Theo jolts to the door. “I’ll let you know as soon as I can.”

Eliza plays with her doll, her voice low, almost as if it is growling. “Eliza, what are you doing?”

She turns and looks at me with vacant eyes. “They’re coming to town.”

I open the window to hear shouting and scuffling in the streets. I stop one of the villagers whose dressed in light armor. “What’s the matter?”

“The dead. They’re rising from the lake.”

“You mean the soldiers from today’s battle?”

“No ma’am. All of them.”

The tradition of Yellow Stone is to bury their dead in the lake. They’ve been doing this presumably since the fall of the ancients. If he was being literal, that means a lot of dead people are approaching the city.

I’m experiencing a vivid recollection. Here I am alone with Eliza with my city under siege. The prize presumably is us. Perhaps Bets was right to suggest that we’re cursed. Thankfully, Theo arrives. He grabs his staff and says, “We need to get the girl to safety. The bodies are tearing at the fence line.”

“How’s that possible? I thought the fence was supposed to keep the fog out.”

“I don’t know why, but they’re doing it. Maybe it has something to do with Thresh being in the city.”

“She’s here, inside the walls?”

“They brought her to the jail. I thought you understood that.”

“I need you to take me, us, there now.”

We run into the street and find our passage blocked by a bloated, animated body missing part of its head. I barely recognize it as Wenn. It croaks, “Daughter.”

“Wenn, my brother, what has that witch done to you?” Theo’s face is fish-belly white.

The body advances. “Need daughter. So sorry.” His clothes are tattered and soaked.

I fall to my knees sobbing. “Theo, kill him. Release him from this hell.”

I cover Eliza’s eyes while Theo takes a staff and beats the remainder of Wenn’s head into a mash. Wenn drops with a wet thud.

More bodies appear in the streets. Some are recently dead from the battle, others are nothing more than slick strands of sinew and bones. Theo knocks them out of our way as we rush to the jail compound. We arrive to find no guards and a dead soldier trying to grab keys and release Thresh from her cell.

Thresh is so frail. She looks as if she hasn’t eaten in weeks. “So, Amy Marksman. We meet again and flesh to flesh. You look hearty.” She peers over my shoulder. “Eliza sweetheart, are you well?”

The girl beams and runs to the bars. “Mommy? Why you in a cage?”

“Those mean people locked me up, honey. Run and hide, now.”

Before we can react, Eliza bolts down the dark hallway, littered with dozens of cells and passages. Theo yells, “Liza, come back here. We’re good. Please?”

“Let her hide, Theo. I don’t want her to see what is about to happen.”

Thresh chuckles. “Amy, face it. You’re going to lose. I’m drawing them to me. I can feel them killing men, women, and children right now, in the gilded city. Delicious. And they’re doing it for me and for you.”

“Thresh, you’ve no idea how much I’ve grown while you’ve stagnated in your hatred and petulance. You don’t deserve the abilities you have. I pity you. It’s time for you to go.” I feel myself entering the tunnel and I’m on the other side of the bars looking at me. I make sure that Thresh is still conscious and surprised while I force her hands over her nose and mouth. She struggles weakly for air as her vision blurs and turns grey. The last image she sees is of me staring at her with disgust

Chapter 62 – Institute Meets Earth

A veil has lifted from Yellow Stone. People are happier and colors seem brighter. The wicked smell of the lake has abated.

This happiness and relief did not emerge immediately after the emancipation. We spent the first few days after the battle disposing of the revered dead, who unfortunately were littered by Thresh across all the streets and walls of the town. Most of the bodies were returned to the lake. I burned Thresh’s body and sent her ashes into cold, empty space via the Raven. Her lover Jonah will rot in jail for the remainder of his days. He’s quite insane, preaching continuously about the fall of the unrighteous and the rise of the damned.

In these peaceful days, the brown ooze no longer appears, although I know the danger is still there. Without a magnet like Thresh, nothing draws it out of the portal. But the others still watch without eyes hungrily from beyond. I see them when I fly the Raven over the lake when continuing my daily lessons from Fromer. I’ll learn to stop them soon, I hope. Fromer keeps telling me to be patient.

Once we’re certain the immediate danger is gone, Etch and I travel south and west to the mountain lodge at Yosemite to retrieve our friends. We land both ships in a grassy meadow downhill of the building. I marvel at how quickly the scars of the spring battle with Thresh have healed. Samuel greets us with a bottle of ripe cider. “Where’ve you been?” He’s beaming and a little drunk.

“Oh Samuel, if you only knew.” I hug him, noticing that his beard’s much longer and that he’s much lighter.

We walk to the lodge where Grey and Gorian hold Ferris, who’s grown into a curious and mobile toddler. She’s an interesting mix of her parents and would be a great companion to Eliza, if Eliza ever bursts through her shell. There are four copies of Iggy roaming the grounds rather than one now. The only difference is that Iggy’s slightly greyer and moves slowly. Sam greets us with his artificial voice. I swear he’s become more personable — likely a result of much tweaking by Gorian. The last person to greet us is father. He’s aged precipitously while we’ve been away. He seems vacant, lost in his thoughts.

We sit by a roaring fire, the heat still welcome in the cool summer night in the mountains, discussing the events that occurred and those that might follow. “So, you all will join us at Yellow Stone?” I ask.

“Sam, what do you think of that?” Gorian asks the lodge.

“I would miss you terribly. Would you visit me?”

“Of course Sam. This is as close to a home as I’ve ever had. This will be a cherished holiday spot.”

“To more serious issues.” Grey sits forward. “You mentioned that the Fuerst chased off an Institute vessel. I’m surprised that you haven’t been bothered further.”

“Oh, they are coming.” Etch shifts in his chair. “The Institute is being cautious, particularly given our response and the presence of the FRT outpost on the moon. Their resources are spread thin and they do not want to raise suspicion by sending an armada to harmless earth.” He chuckles. “I am unsure whether the FRT knows about the portal. The Yellow Stone villagers think so, but I suspect they were misled by the Institute. The FRT forces probably still avoid earth because of the quarantine and have no knowledge of the richness in their territory. Fear of that doomsday substance is a powerful ally for us.”

“So, we need to reach Yellow Stone and protect it from encroachment by the two warring factions? Sounds easy.” Gorian’s fidgeting with some mechanical toy she’s built for Ferris.

“Fromer’s convinced that Amy holds the key to the portal in the lake.” Iggy suggests.

I clarify. “Actually, Iggy, to be more correct, the lake contains a froth of portals winking in and out of our reality.” I look around nervously considering all I’ve learned from Fromer.

“She’s starting to talk like us.” Gorian chortles.

Samuel walks in with a bundle of logs. “Sounds to me that you intend to use Amy as a gambling chip. They’ll need her to use the holes or whatever you call them in the lake. With no Amy, there be no travel. Amy darling, how’s that make you feel?”

“Self-important and cheap at the same time,” I laugh. “I guess I’ll be whoring myself to the highest bidder.”

Grey isn’t smiling. “This is deadly serious folks. Thresh had some scary monsters, dead walkers, and stone-age weapons to do her bidding. The Institute and the FRT have nuclear weapons and lots of well-armed soldiers — not to mention ships. They can take Amy by force if they want to.”

Etch turns to me. “What do you want my fellow pilot? This is your life we are discussing. You could simply walk into these woods and vanish from our sight. You would have no more worries about threats from beyond.”

“Etch, I have responsibilities whether I want them or not. My first goes to Eliza. She’s confused and lost. I always had my mother and the xyn to accompany me.” I look at my vacant father. “You too, father.” He mumbles something. “So, I need to help her come back to me and find a way for her to harness her abilities. After that, I’ve only begun to explore the possibilities of the lake for all of us, including those brutes in space.”

“We will defend you. But I cannot guarantee your safety. I propose that we deal with the Institute and FRT directly. In fact, we should pre-empt them. This will give us bargaining power. And the ability to set the terms to our liking.”

“What exactly do we plan to offer them?” I’m feeling slightly sick at the thought of being the keeper. “I can see the portals but I can’t begin to show pilots how to navigate them. For that matter, I’d have no idea how to get them back.”

Etch stretches. “I suggest that the first course of action is for you to propose developing a map. The Institute — and the FRT if they decide to play — will need to work with you to explore these areas. They can send probes to gather information. You provide your visions in bits and the bastards will grow dependent on you.”

Iggy spritzes his skin, his eyes half-closed in amphibious pleasure. “Etch, this is a brilliant idea. We must act quickly. How will we transmit the message?”

Gorian smiles. “I’m on it.”

Within a day, we’ve packed up our things and walk through the make-shift front door of the lodge for a final time, trying to suppress the memories of the horrors that occurred there. “I will miss you,” Sam says quietly.

Gorian cradles Ferris in her arms. “I’m going to put you to sleep, Sam. When you wake up, it’ll be like no time has passed.”

“Let’s hope it won’t be centuries like before.”

“Of course not, my dear machine. Sweet dreams.”

The Fuerst and Raven streak through the sky, taking us to our new home. Gorian has broadcasted our message via universal transmission throughout known space:

DEAR CITIZENS, A WONDERFUL EVENT HAS OCCURRED ON PLANET EARTH. A STABLE PORTAL THROUGH SPACE-TIME HAS OPENED, ALLOWING ACCESS TO INFINITE NEW FRONTIERS. EARTH REMAINS DANGEROUS TO VESSELS AND THE QUARANTINE FOR THE POTENTIALLY INFECTIOUS MATERIAL ON THE PLANET IS NOT LIFTED. HOWEVER, SAFE PASSAGE MAY BE NEGOTIATED VIA CONTACT WITH US. TRANSMIT QUERIES TO THESE COORDINATES: 9008-A-8567.

“That will get their attention,” Grey mutters.

“Greed always does.” Etch responds.

We land the ships near the east wall of Yellow Stone at dusk. Bright bursts of colorful fire, like suspended falling stars, appear and fade in the sky above us.

Etch slaps the hull of his ship. “It appears that our Institute and FRT friends have engaged in battle over access to the portal. Gorian, you are quite the trouble maker.”

“Who’ll win?” I ask.

“Depends on who wants to rule the universe.” Grey shrugs, carrying Ferris toward the town gate.

Samuel helps father walk up the path. I marvel how those cousins have diverged over the past year. Father wilted while Samuel blossomed. Iggy and his spawn are surrounded by village children. The Yellow Stone kids have seen strange things during their short lives, but the naurons are a special novelty. I wonder how Iggy’s babies will like the lake and playing with their new human friends.

I’m feeling guilty. Part of me doesn’t want to reunite with Eliza. Perhaps she’d be better off with Magarat and forget me. That’s silly of course. I can’t let Thresh take her away. I approach the small house that’s been given to me by the village and swallow hard. I enter to find Magarat and Eliza playing on a table. Eliza looks up indifferently and goes back to drawing.

“Welcome back, Amy. We’ve been drawing pictures. Eliza, show your mommy what you’ve done.”

“My mommy isn’t here.”

My heart shatters. I want to run away, more so than during any other time in my life. “I’m your mommy Eliza. We’ve got lots of time to get to know each other again. See my eyes?” She looks up. “They look just like yours.”

Interest flashes briefly by Eliza’s face and then she resumes her drawing. I look to see what she’s creating: a woman in a red dress.

I run outside and vomit.

Magarat peeks out. “Amy. It will take time for her to adjust. She’s a good, smart girl. She’ll warm up to you. I do promise. I’m gonna leave now for a while.”

I want to plead for her to stay but know better. I join my daughter. “Eliza, let’s draw pictures together.”

The images that appear on the paper are vivid, beautiful, and often disturbing. Grubs, bleeding bodies, and flames are mixed with glorious, detailed pictures of flowers and animals. I hope, through time, that the gentle visions overcome the gruesome ones. For now, she needs to let both flow out of her.

I draw a picture of my mother. It’s been so long since I last put ink to paper at the lodge. My nerves calm. Eliza looks at the picture. “She’s pretty. Who is she?”

“That’s your grandma, sweetie.”

I spend the rest of the glorious evening with my daughter on my lap as I tell her stories of the garden, the xyn, and the wonders of the natural world.

After I’ve gotten Eliza to bed, I step out into the darkness and stare at the sky. More streaks of fire rage silently as the battle overhead drones on.

Etch walks by. “Good evening Amy. Enjoying the starlight tonight?”

“Etch, how long do you expect them to keep fighting?”

“Perhaps a month.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I am not Amy Marksman. Both sides of the conflict have considerable resources and will not stop until the other is defeated. Gorian’s message brought the war’s front to earth’s doorstep. Before this is ended, earth’s orbit will be littered with thousands of destroyed ships.”

“You knew this would happen?”

“Of course. I have seen wars many times. They must burn hot before the flames are extinguished.”

“Why aren’t the forces coming down here to fight?”

“Foremost, it is fear of the weapon that destroyed civilization on earth so many years ago. Also, it makes no tactical sense to put your troops on the ground when they are vulnerable to fire overhead. The victors will arrive with time as they become confident that the threat on the surface is gone. I recommend that you continue your studies with Fromer and enjoy your time with Eliza. When the winning faction arrives, peace will most certainly vanish.”

“Fromer, do you really think the terrorist weapon is gone?”

“I do not know.”

Almost a month to the day I conversed with Fromer, the explosions in the sky stop. I am sipping tea and watching Eliza sleep when Magarat steps in quietly. “Amy, you really need to go outside and see this. They’ve returned.”

Lights again dot the surface of the new moon. Theo rushes to me and holds my hand tightly. “I guess this means we’ll be getting visitors soon Sprouter my love?”

I tighten my grip and lead him inside.

Gorian appears early the next morning. “The message’s arrived. She shows us script on her tablet screen. We are to meet the Phobos at these coordinates in an hour. I guess the Institute prevailed.”

We’ve long known that Etch, Grey, Bets, Ricard, and me would make first contact with the winning side. Etch savors the opportunity to face the Phobos and likely Leo, its pilot, during our negotiations.

The Fuerst drops down next to the battle-scarred Institute vessel. It’s suffered far more damage since its fight with us in the asteroid belt. Leo emerges from the Phobos with three others. Etch embraces him warmly. “Hello, Leo my old friend. We meet on much better terms now.”

“Hello, Etch.” Leo’s a tall, angular man with dark features and a well-groomed beard. He smirks at us. “Let me introduce my distinguished companions, all from respected families within the Institute.”

Grey interrupts. “I know them all already.” He nods at a pale man with white hair and a terrible slouch. “Hello, Vincent. He comes from the Wilcoxin clan. Last I heard he was governing some province on mars.”

Vincent smiles, “We wondered what happened to you Grey. Good to see you well. I am now Prime Prefect of the solar government. You can feel safe with us. No need to hide anymore.”

Grey hugs the woman next to Vincent. “This is an old, old friend of my family and a distinguished diplomat. Aunt Vanne, meet my friends and welcome to the land of my exile.”

Vanne looks genuinely concerned for Grey. “We were worried sick about you after the accident at the Platform. You’re so gaunt now. What can you possibly be eating down here?”

I wonder why she mentions this place called the Platform and not the planet C9. I wonder whether she knows the truth about Grey’s disappearance.

Sighing, Grey introduces the third member of the group, a beautiful young woman with striking red hair and dark blue eyes. “This is Amanda Fuerst, direct descendent of the founding leader of the Institute and a key representative of the familial foundation. As you noticed, Etch’s ship is named after her clan.”

She looks at Grey a bit too long and his face flushes. I can tell there’s a history between the two of them. “Hello, Grey. I haven’t seen you since graduation. We have much to discuss about this anomaly on the planet. It looks promising for all of us.”

We leave the ships and walk to the great hall of the village. Amanda, Vanne, and Vincent are mesmerized by their surroundings — this is the first time they’ve visited the true home of their species. Leo and Etch chat energetically, as if they never fought in their lives. They’re telling stories of battle with the FRT forces.

Seated at the table, I consider our guests. Vanne is clearly in charge of the discourse, although Amanda is the source of power in the group. I have yet to gain an accurate measure of Vincent — he seems to be inflated with a lot of heat and very little substance. I suppose Leo has returned to his ship.

Grey starts bluntly. “So, the Institute won?”

Amanda blinks. “Yes Grey, we won, at great cost. There are bits of resistance from the FRT, but they will be mopped up with time. Order has been restored to the alliance, thankfully.”

We sit in silence for some time, waiting for the next move. Vanne speaks. “On behalf of the Institute and allied governments, we want to assure you that we have peaceful intentions and seek your cooperation.”

It is going to be a long day.

At dinner, we talk of Institute politics and the status of Grey’s relatives. Strangely, the Institute delegation has no interest in us natives. Neither Ricard nor I have garnered much attention from the visitors. For the first time in my life, I feel as if I’m a stranger in my own world.

Grey sips brandy while our guests pick at their food.

“So, what do you really know about the circumstances leading to our disappearance?” Grey puts his hand on Gorian’s hand. Amanda stares at her.

Vanne considers Vincent and Amanda for a moment. “This, of course, is in all confidence. We know about the incident on the terraforming planet called C9. Enough information was provided to show that there was no accident on the Platform outpost as the official records suggest. Rather, you and your crew were thought lost when the planet dropped into a singularity created by the vessel Raven on the surface.”

“Thankfully, you survived.” Amanda smiles tepidly.

“We also know that some interesting activity occurred on C9 prior to your disappearance.” Vincent finally speaks. “It was consistent with sealed research findings we had in the Institute database, much of it generated by your father, Grey. He knew that he was creating a portal on the planet, placing all of us at great risk.”

Grey shakes his head. “My father was indeed trying to create a portal on C9 and he succeeded. I reject, however, the idea that he meant harm.”

Amanda sips her wine. “I knew your dad well, Grey. I agree.”

He relaxes while Gorian bristles.

Vanne regards Grey critically. “Regardless of intent, the portal opened and important technology, created by your father but ultimately belonging to the Institute, fell into the hands of an unknown species. If we understand correctly, this threat almost destroyed this town and the entire western half of the continent.”

I stand, stretching my arms and back. “Well, I am tired. We can revisit these issues tomorrow when we’ve rested.”

After our guests have retired, I eagerly return to the house to find Eliza, Theo, and Magarat waiting for me. Eliza jumps into my arms, which makes the frustrating day melt away.

“How’d it go?” Theo’s trying to seem nonchalant.

“These people spend all their time talking about nothing. Grey tells me that this is diplomacy, where the one side tries to talk the other side into submission. Somehow, this is supposed to get them what they want.”

“So, they haven’t told you they want to use the lake?”

“Nope. They did have an interesting conversation about Grey’s dad. No matter to us. How was your day?”

“That Captain Leo is a sly one. He’s been handing out toys, candy, and clothes to villagers all day. If you thought you were popular after crushing Thresh, then you ought to see this fellow in his glory. Oh, I have something for you.” He produces a beautiful necklace adorned with rare gems.

“Where’d you get this?”

He looks guilty. “Captain Leo.”

At mid-day of the second set of talks, largely among Grey and the Institute delegation about mostly nothing, Ricard stands up frustrated. “When are we going to talk about the damn lake? You people needn’t spend your time talking frivolities with us. I’ve seen what your Captain is doing — buttering up my people. Fattening them up like pigs before a slaughter. If you want cooperation from us, then treat us with respect.”

Etch bellows with laughter. “Vanne, Institute diplomacy is not going to work with my friends.”

Vanne regards Ricard for the first time. “Yes, we do want to explore the portal on mutually agreed terms. What do we need to do to begin accessing it?”

Ricard looks at me. “Amy Marksman is the keeper and a pilot. She will provide you with information about the lake, as you need it. In return, Yellow Stone wants assurances that you will not occupy it. And I want you to stop Leo from poisoning my people with material crap.”

Vanne looks at Amanda and Vincent, who nod slightly. “Agreed. Excuse me.” She retreats to the end of the room and talks into a communication device. She returns to her seat. “Done.”

Amanda speaks. “The Institute would like to build a small outpost on the lake for research and to house scientists. We would like to include a teaching facility for your children.”

Ricard looks to Bets and Grey nervously. Grey responds, “We’ll take that into consideration.”

Chapter 63 – Progress

A sleek silver and glass building is perched on the shore of the lake, making the walls of Yellow Stone look old and worn. I spend much of my days here with Eliza and the Institute scientists studying the miracles of the lake. The scientists are polite but distant. They do enjoy the information I provide. But they have no interest in me or what I envision our future should look like. Eliza has emerged from her shell, seeming happy and engaged. She occasionally plays with other human children, but seems drawn to Iggy’s family. Somehow, she’s learned to communicate with them through telepathy — something I have no clue how to do. When I try to enter their minds, I’m floating in an uncharted sea of vowels and syllables with no cogent words.

Many of the village children come to the laboratory each day to learn from Institute teachers. As their eyes open to the universe around them, I can see them grow restless with their surroundings. The urge to build, to improve, to want more is mounting within them. Their parents look to Ricard and me for guidance. I can see both pride and worry in their eyes when we talk of the Institute presence and its influence on the younger generation.

Quite a clandestine market has developed for Institute wares, to Ricard’s concern. Many of these items are relatively harmless — rare foods, liquors, and toys. However, somehow weapons have begun appearing. One of the villagers murdered another with a rifle. When we asked Amanda, now the Institute governor, about this, she claimed it must have arrived with a supply transport and that they’d tighten security. However, people, whether they come from earth or the stars in sky, are ingenious when driven by greed and desire. This leads me to despair for Yellow Stone, and for that matter, the earth’s future. Perhaps an answer lies in the depths of the lake.

My belly is distended with my second baby — Theo’s first — when I step into my beloved Raven.

“How are you coping with the morning sickness, Amy?” the ship asks.

“I’m in my third month now. It’s gone. Thanks for asking.”

“You are my friend and companion. Your welfare is of the highest importance to me.”

“Let’s see what we can find in the lake today.”

We’ve spent the past year tracing the patterns of the lake. I settle into the pilot’s chair and instantly perceive the many doorways opening in and out of reality. Today feels different than other days, however. Fromer appears in the void as he often does.

“Good morning Amy.”

“Hi Fromer. What’s my lesson for today?”

“You’re finished. I haven’t anything left to teach you. I do, however, want to show you one more thing and then I need to leave.”

“Leave? Where are you going?”

“Away from here. I’ve got other places to visit and things to experience. I won’t live forever.” He smiles in that strange place.

“But, I need you. I don’t know anything yet.”

“You’ve got your own strength, a wonderful family, and a future that only you can control. Follow me.”

The Raven travels with us as we reach a part of the lake I’ve never visited. I look down and see thousands of people milling about, talking, and laughing. I look closer and as Fromer promised long ago, I see my mother. She looks up and then we are together in the void.

“Amy, you’re pregnant. How wonderful for you.”

I can only croak, “Mom?”

“Yes, it’s what’s left of me. We have the rest of your lifetime to catch up. But we’ve got work to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s time to learn how to patch up a hole in this continuum. As Fromer told you, there are lots of them in the universe. But, this one concerns the two of us and, of course, our world. We can’t let them escape again.”

“Are you talking about the others?”

“Yes, the greedy ones that used the fog to overcome life on earth. We need to work together to keep them out. You see, the portals not only open to other parts of space and time, they also allow the energy we produce — our souls — to exist beyond your reality.”

“Heaven?”

“Sort of sweetheart. What we can do is close the door to the others from both our sides and they won’t be able to come through anymore.”

“What happens when I die? Will the door open again?”

She shakes her head. “Then we’ll work with that baby of yours from over here to keep it shut. It always requires one person on each side … one living and one dead.”

“Mom, you have another baby already born — a grand-daughter, Eliza.”

“Joy of all joys. That’s so wonderful. Fromer didn’t tell me.”

We walk in the void until we reach what looks like a creaky, wooden doorway with rusted hinges. “Amy, just push it shut.”

“It’s that easy?”

“Yes, it is.”

With a thud, the threat from the greedy lifeless ones on the other side pass from earth — at least while I am on watch.

“Now, the real work is ahead of us.”

“Mom, what do you mean by that?”

“The infection is spreading through the hearts of people on earth.”

“You mean, the Institute?”

“Well, people have always been greedy. But the Institute’s providing a temptation that’s going to prove difficult for earth, and ultimately for all living beings. You’ll have some difficult decisions to make. And I can’t make them for you.”

“I thought our reunion would be joyful. To be honest, this is a little daunting.”

She smiles sadly. “No matter what side you’re on, you always have the burden of decisions and their consequences. Your decisions just happen to affect an awful lot of people. Let me show you the future of earth, with the Institute on it.”

An enormous vista appears before me, with images morphing in and out of my reality. I feel like I’m back in Troll’s compound watching images of the cities of earth before the fall. We’re floating above earth, except the surface has been transformed into vast expanses of buildings and geometrically exact sections of greenery.

“The cities are beautiful.”

“Yes, Amy, they are. Earth and humanity may return to its previous glory, for a time.”

We fly to a dried lakebed, dust spinning in the wind. “Where’s this?”

“Yellow Stone.”

“What happened?”

“The portals were overused. Humans and their kindred species altered the climate to meet their needs with unintended consequences. The lake simply receded. You can’t have both. Magic exists either through technology or nature. They aren’t compatible.”

“What can I do about this?”

“The Raven is receiving data as we speak. You can use it as you like. I must go now. We’ll talk again soon.” She recedes into the emptiness. The beautiful, daunting images vanish.

I call, “Fromer are you still there?”

There’s no answer. I feel completely alone. I return to the pilot’s seat of the Raven and return to the Institute laboratory, where Eliza’s waiting for me.

“Did you have a fun day mommy?”

“I saw your grandma. She’s happy and wants to meet you someday.”

Eliza smiles and grabs my hand.

I consider our life here, now. It’s peaceful and exciting. I think of our future and Eliza’s after I’m gone. The burden of the gardens is still there, belonging to my family, but now has shifted to a lake of many worlds and possibilities. If I allow the future to happen as my mother showed it, then I would find myself betraying all that my family has worked for since the fall of the ancient ones — those people who have finally returned. Still, I wonder what the future might look like without the Institute. My mother failed to show me that vision. I can only assume that our fate would be better.

I’m resting in bed staring at the beams on the ceiling. Theo kisses me on the cheek. “What’s bothering you?”

“Do we really need the Institute?”

“They’re teaching the kids and providing us with medicine. I like the toys too.”

“But we used to get by just fine with our knowledge of the land. The gardens always provided. We had trade. I’m not so sure they’re really worth having here. Do they have our interests in mind?”

“Even if we didn’t want them, how do you propose that we get rid of them? I’m thinking they be here to stay.”

“I don’t know yet. And I wonder how our formerly exiled friends feel about this.”

Theo rolls onto his stomach. “We can always ask them.”

We convene the exiles the next morning in my house. I tell them about my vision of the future — the rise of humanity, renewed technology, and the loss of nature.

Grey sips his tea thoughtfully. “Did your mom indicate how far in the future this was?”

“Does it matter?” Bets is angry. “Do we want them coming here, building more and more? They’ll impose their beliefs on us, take away what we’ve built for ourselves. We’ve survived for centuries without them. And your mom didn’t tell us what things would be like without the Institute. I’d prefer to have a future we can control and shape in our own way — not the Institute’s.”

“They exiled us for goodness sake.” Minns adds. “We owe them no allegiance.”

“True, but we’ve already begun to adopt their way of life. Look at me and the Raven. The kids are learning so much about the world and space. Many are already talking about joining the Institute when they grow up.” I’m conflicted.

“Doesn’t that prove your point?” Bets sips some tea. “We don’t even know much about our own world and the children want to leave. The Institute will poison us.”

Etch hums. “Amy, do you have a way to shield earth from the outside?”

“My mother and Fromer suggested it. The answer lies in the Raven. I plan to explore today.”

“I have any real sympathy for you all. I think technology is always preferable to ignorance. However, Amy, would you like some company? I’m curious about the solution.” Gorian asks.

“Sure. Theo and Grey can care for Eliza and Ferris while we’re away. I’m certain Magarat will be happy to assist.”

Gorian and I enter the Raven and ask for the data. The ship provides us with a set of coordinates. Gorian squints. “This would have been a city called Frankfurt, a continent away from here. I suspect your mother or Fromer wanted you to visit there. It is a very specific location at the meter-scale, so we won’t be lost.”

“Let’s saddle up.” I lift us up into the wide sky. The ship skims across the magnificent continent Gorian calls North America and then skips across a wide ocean. We hover over a vast ruined city like all the rest. We drop the Raven into a wide paved area with a concrete building in the center.

“Shall we take a walk?” Gorian’s already strolling out the hatch.

Like most of the ruined places, only birds, rats, and insects are present to watch us. The closest human village is at least a hundred kilometers east. The building has a large door with symbols I’ve never seen before. Gorian pulls out a plasma rifle and fires, the door evaporating before us. “After you. Pregnant women first.”

The interior of the building is filled with huge stacks of metallic towers and hundreds of glass rooms with tables and fixtures I don’t recognize. “What was this place?”

Gorian produces her tablet. “The records are murky at best. I think this was a large research laboratory. The language is a mixture of German, Russian, and English. We speak primarily English now. I’ll see whether I can translate some of it.” She fiddles with her computer. “Ah, according to the coordinates, I think we want to go down to the next level. They stored samples down there.”

We’re underground now and enter a large hallway lined with metal doors. Gorian stops and reads the translations. “No shit. Really?”

“What?”

“This is it. They really kept some.”

“Of what?”

“The agent that crashed human society on earth. It was bacteria — tiny organisms that live everywhere. These just had a taste for human-made materials. ”

“Plastic.”

“Yeah. I can’t believe it was a bioweapon — they scare me worse than anything else. We’ve got to get out of here. We’re in danger of picking these things up and of contaminating everything — starting the whole damn thing over again. And it could get out into space. Living organisms are notoriously difficult to contain once they escape.”

“Wait, I want some.”

Gorian stares at me. “Are you kidding or simply stupid?”

“This is the bargaining chip. We hold this in front of the Institute, the whole of space. If they don’t meet our demands, we release it. We have nothing to lose.”

“Have you lost your mind? We have something to lose — our ships, our transmitters, and our computers.” She lifts up her tablet. “Are you willing to give all that up? The Raven? Etch’s vessel? The ability to travel beyond earth? What about medical technology? The Institute doctors can extend your life and keep Eliza and your baby from ever getting sick. For mars sake, you’d likely be dead or at least legless if it wasn’t for our evil technology.”

“Gorian, I lived a peaceful, healthful life before all of you came around. We were able to make a good living from the earth. With Thresh gone and the fog banished, we can return to that. With the lake, I can explore other worlds and communicate with others like me. Like Flip, there has to be others here on earth. We can spread this knowledge to others of our kind. The technology — it can come gradually and through our own design and progress.”

“You would deny others the ability to explore the wonders of the lake for your own special needs? You’d create a class of people — pilots — with access to knowledge and expect the unfortunate others to blindly follow you? Is this the same Amy Marksman I met so long ago?”

I pull out my plasma rifle. “Sorry Gorian. Those are your needs not mine. I have the people of earth to protect. I hope I never have to use the stuff.” I open a locker and remove a handful of ampules, placing them gingerly into a canvas sack. “You wouldn’t dare shoot me now Gorian. The stuff might splatter and spread.”

She looks anguished.

“I want you to stay here. I will send Etch to get you once I’ve safely brought these home.”

“Amy, please don’t do this. I thought we were friends.”

“Gorian, it’s because we are friends and that I love Ferris, you, and Grey very much that I’m doing this.”

I back away, pointing a lethal weapon at my friend and leaving her in the dark.

I shudder during the three-hour flight back to Yellow Stone. The Raven is concerned. “Amy, where is Gorian? Is she alright?”

“She wanted to stay there and study the site further. I will send Etch and the Fuerst to get her when we return home.”

The Raven’s silent, assessing the tone of my voice. “Amy, you aren’t telling me the entire story. We have spent many months together. You have visited my core processor. Please be honest with me.”

I can’t believe that I’ve developed a relationship with a machine — a human fabricated thing. Troll was horrific, but it’s true colors were easy to see. The Raven, the Fuerst, and Sam have taught me that machines are helpful and perhaps intuitive. If I release the agent from these glass capsules, would I be complicit in their murder?

I decide to take the risk. Knowing what happened to Melat, I am well aware that even this kind machine is capable of wiping out its master. “Raven, I’m conflicted. If you knew the future and could change it to save the people and place you loved, would you do it?”

“I love you, Amy. I would do what it takes to keep you safe.”

I feel dizzy. “What if it involved hurting a few of the ones you love to help the many?”

“You would need to tell the ones in danger what you plan to do. It is only fair. If they are truly loving, they will make the necessary sacrifice.”

A machine just described love and altruism to me. I’m silent for the remainder of the trip, experiencing horrid, contradictory, confusing impulses. The canvas bag sits on a passenger chair. Is the substance I’m bringing home another form of the brown fog from the lake come to haunt me?

I approach Yellow Stone when the Fuerst and Phobos appear at the sides of the Raven. Etch’s voice fills the cabin. “Amy, Gorian contacted us. You cannot land at Yellow Stone. Land now at the specified coordinates or we will have to force you down.”

Gorian must have fashioned a transmitter at the lab in Frankfurt. “Etch, you can’t stop me. I’ll drop this stuff on top of the Institute building long before you shoot me down. Stand back.”

The Raven’s curious. “Amy, what are you doing?”

“I have a substance that will allow my people to take back control of our lives from the Institute.”

“What does it do?”

“I have to be honest with you. It will destroy you and other ships like you. Pretty much all of the Institute technology. But I would only use it if we were in danger.”

The ship stops. “Very well. I will help you.”

We shoot straight into the sky and begin diving at the Institute building.

Etch chimes in. “Amy. Please land at the Yellow Stone clearing. We will talk there.”

“Etch. I want the Fuerst and Phobos to be absent. I want Theo and no one else waiting for me. If not, I have agreed with the Raven for her to drop vials of the substance on the building and then fly into space. There, she will spread the substance to mars, home of your precious Institute.”

“Understood. I hope you know what you are doing Amy Marksman.” The two ships fly up and away.

Chapter 64 – Release

The Raven cools in the grass as I hug Theo. The ship knows that any tampering or attack will give her my permission to carry out my plan. I have a few ampules containing the bug or whatever it is in my pocket for extra protection.

Theo whispers in my ear. “They have Eliza.”

My hand moves to my pocket and I grasp the glass containers. “Who are these people? They’re no better than Thresh.” I swear I feel the baby kicking angrily in my belly.

“Be careful Amy. They’re watching from the walls.”

I shout, “Give me back my daughter now or I’ll release the substance.”

A voice travels through the air. It’s Amanda, the governess of the Institute laboratory. “I’d rethink that if I were you, Amy. Eliza’s been quite the helper to us.”

“Theo, I thought I left Eliza with Magarat.”

“When Gorian called Etch, Amanda took them away.”

“Why didn’t you fight?”

“It’s kind of hard to fight when you’re outgunned.”

“Didn’t the villagers stand up for her?”

He looks down. “No. They watched as she and Magarat were led away.”

A small group of Institute soldiers and Amanda appear at the wall of the city. “Amy, it is so nice to see you, although I wish the circumstances were better. Come with us so we can join Eliza. She’s been asking for you.”

I consider ending it here. I have but to give the Raven my command and throw these vials on the ground to start the end for Amanda and her kind. But I’d certainly forfeit my life and that of Eliza and Theo. No one in the village would lift a finger for us in this grassy place as the soldiers overcame us. Worse, for earth, I would risk the potential of another Thresh reopening the gateway and destroying humanity. I need more time.

“Do not touch me,” I say holding a vial in my hand. “I want to see Eliza.”

Theo and I follow Amanda and her guards into a large room with a table and many chairs. Vanne and Grey are seated. Grey looks queasy, while his companions gaze at me with a mix of fear and anger.

“Well, Amy, you’ve put us in a bind.” Vanne sits forward. “Would you like a refreshment?”

“I want Eliza now. Where is she?”

Amanda growls, “Give us the vials and you can have her.”

Vanne smiles slightly. “We apologize Amy. We’re your guests here. It’s ironic that our shared ancestors unleashed this agent and that we’re now reunited, facing the same threat. What are your needs?”

“You need to leave earth. You can only visit with permission of an elected council of Yellow Stone and someday other people of earth.”

“Well, that was the plan all along,” Vanne says. “We are only here to work with you and to help you better your condition here on earth.”

I sigh. “You might say that and even believe that right now. But I’ve seen the future and know that we are moving down a wrong path. You’re poisoning the minds of our people, blurring their ability to see clearly. We need to slow down and consider our next steps carefully. Now, I’ve said my piece. My daughter. Now.”

Vanne looks at Grey, expecting him to speak. Grey stares at his hands, remaining silent.

Amanda pulls out a pretty mirrored brush and strokes her hair. “You know Eliza can see the future too?”

I hold the ampule before me with my finger on the tip. “I only need to break this and it’ll spread.”

“Very well. Follow me.” Amanda tucks her hairbrush into a small red bag on the table.

We enter a small dark room with a screened wall. Through the mesh, I see Eliza sitting on the floor of an adjacent room with a slight woman I don’t recognize, Magarat looking terrified, and a small, tawny motionless animal.

“Take me to her.” I demand.

“Watch.” Amanda says

The unknown woman, who I sense is a pilot, puts her hand on Eliza’s hand. “Show me what you learned to do honey bee.”

The animal is a dead cat. Eliza considers it, closes her eyes, and the cat twitches. Magarat covers her mouth with her hand. Eliza concentrates on the animal for a few moments and then moves on to playing with a rag doll.

“Interesting, isn’t it Amy? She can do that without the organic matrix you call the fog. Very talented indeed but so misguided. I wonder what other tricks the woman, Thresh, taught your little girl? We can help you restore her, heal her — undo the things that witch did to your daughter. But we need you to give us the vials and tell the Raven to stand down.”

I’m paralyzed and anguished. “Give me Eliza. I need some time.” Theo grabs me as my knees buckle.

Amanda gives me a sympathetic pat. “I’m so sorry we had to do it this way. You gave us no choice bringing that — material — here. Hand me the vials. Please.”

My mind is swimming. I pull the glass containers out of my pocket and rest them in my palm. The liquid within resembles water. I wonder how something so seemingly benign can lead to the decline of a great civilization. My eyes close and I drop them on the floor, crushing them under my feet.

Amanda shouts. “Initiate biosecurity.” The guards run from the room and return with large guns. Before they can fire, the floor, walls, and screen in the room hiss and bubble, corroding before our eyes. One of the guards manages to release some flames from her weapon, but the gun quickly crumbles and fire jumps onto her uniform. She screams and falls onto the ground.

Theo and I jump through the hole where the screen once stood. Eliza, Magarat, and the woman stand, mesmerized by the commotion. Eliza jumps into Theo’s arms and I lead Magarat out.

Amanda’s clothes dissolve from her body. She’s trying to brush the material off but spreads it around, speeding the process.

I pause, considering her. “Amanda, I would recommend that you evacuate the building. I’ve no idea how long the beams will support the other floors.”

We run into the gardens surrounding the Institute laboratory on the shore of the lake. It’s a glorious day, the sun warmly greeting us. The building looks gorgeous, gleaming in the light, not yet betraying the infection eating it from within. I watch the Institute workers run out, their clothing in tatters and their weapons disintegrating in their hands as I lightly brush the three remaining intact vials in my pocket.

I yell to the Raven. “Run my dear ship. Leave this place before the disease gets you too.” I see the ship rising in the sky and then zipping away at an impossible speed.

“Did you send the ship to mars?” Theo’s incredulous.

“No, not yet. We’ll see what happens.” We watch as the building collapses from its considerable weight. Shattered glass and crushed metal roll into the lake.

On the horizon, the shapes of the Phobos and Fuerst appear. They are clearly cautious about approaching too close. The bacteria’s likely billowing in the air above, contaminating anything artificial that comes too close. I smile at the thought of Gorian throwing a tantrum in the Fuerst’s cabin, with Etch chuckling under his breath.

Grey, Amanda, and Vanne sit under a tree, with barely a stich of clothing on them. “Come on Grey, let’s get you some clothes.” He stands and walks with me to the village, leaving his companions behind.

Ricard greets us at the gate. “What do we do about the Institute people?”

I shrug. “Show them compassion. Let’s get them some clothes and shelter. I have no idea whether their people will come to rescue them given the danger that’s now here. Perhaps the Institute will ditch them just like they did our ancestors centuries ago.”

“What will they do?” Theo scratches his chin.

“I have no idea. Maybe you can find a couple of blacksmiths and farmers in there.” I take Eliza from his arms and head into town for lunch.

Grey yells at me. “What do I tell Ferris about Gorian?”

“I’m sure Etch will be back with her when he knows it’s safe to return. Gorian’s resourceful. She’ll be back, if it’s just to beat my ass.”

Eliza, Theo, and I navigate the street back to our house, when people start shrieking. A woman exclaims, “My necklace, it’s gone.” A boy riding a small bike he received from the Institute falls down as part of it disintegrates. People run from the streets as the Institute-made portions of their clothing melt away.

I hold Theo’s hand tight. “Looks like the goop has infected the town.”

“They’ll be alright,” he smiles. “Everything that matters is made of metal or wood and will still be around after this passes.”

Once we’re home, I sit Eliza down. “What’d they do to you honey?”

“Nothing. We just played.”

“What kind of game?”

“The lady asked me if I could wake up the cat. I don’t know how I did it. I just thought about being a cat and it moved. But it didn’t wake up.”

I’ve avoided trying it but it’s time. I focus my thoughts on my girl. I say with my mind, “Can you hear me?”

“You’re doing what my other mommy, the bad woman, did with me. You can talk without your mouth.”

“Can you do that too?

“Yes. Can I eat lunch now?

Chapter 65 – Aftermath

We’re eating lunch on a dock at the lake shore. Eliza throws rocks, examining the strange ways the ripples seem to expand and contract, rather than stretching out ever further. It is an odd place where the rules of nature don’t seem to work very well. Iggy and his children sit at the end of the pier talking. I lament that there is no way we humans, with the exception of Eliza, can understand their language.

“Poor Iggy.” Theo stands in front of our friend who’s unable to communicate with us because his transmitter fell apart.

I sigh, “It’s all my fault.”

He produces a tablet of paper and writes in perfect script: My children and I will survive. We need to learn sign language to communicate with you. First, we must eat. Without a food synthesizer, we will need to search for food in the lake. We will return soon.

A tear trickles down my cheek. I miss talking with him and now they must leave. “I’m so sorry, Iggy. I may have acted hastily. But I still feel I did the right thing. We’ll make an aquatic garden for you and your kids. We’ll grow the best greens you’ve ever eaten.”

Iggy nods, smiles in his toothless way, and he and his children slip into the water.

Samuel hands me a perfect apple. “You did right, Amy. There’s no telling what those people were up to. We’re safer in our own hands.”

“Thanks Samuel. The only person I’m worried about is Grey. He hasn’t seen Gorian in days and wonders whether Etch will bring her back.”

“Oh, she’ll be back. No way she’s leaving him and the baby alone.”

Ricard steps in from the city gate. “We’ve got some angry people out there.”

I frown. “We save them from Thresh and the brown death. Now they’re ready to lynch us.”

“Cooler heads will prevail Missus Marksman.” Ricard snatches my apple and takes a bite. “Show some patience. I’ve lived among them my entire life. They’re resilient and are already seeing the humor behind all this.”

“What humor?” I ask.

“They were acting like spoiled children — getting candy without earning it. We need to work for what we get. The kids have already learned enough to improve things around here immensely. We’ll be eating better and having less sickness. It’s all good and occurring at our own pace.”

“How’s your pa, Amy?” Samuel asks.

I knead my hands and say nothing.

Theo tosses a grape in the water. “Ansam is not doing so well. He’s unaware of what just happened. I tried to explain to him — even encouraged him to have this meal with us. He said no and is staying with Magarat.”

Poor Eliza. I wish she could know her grandfather better. And the baby on the way may not know him at all. I change the course of our conversation. “Has anyone seen Bets or Minns?”

Ricard laughs. “They fancy each other. Quite odd but nice too. They’ve left the village. Said they want to homestead down the mountain. Nice lasses. I wish them the best of luck.”

We eat the rest of lunch in silence. I wonder what Grey will tell Ferris about her mother.

On the way home, we find Grey walking with Ferris in the empty street. I want to pity him. Instead, rage surges and I confront him. “Grey, why did you let them take Eliza?”

His face falls. “To keep you from destroying any hope we had.”

“Grey, hope for what? Domination by those people? They didn’t care about you or Gorian. Etch either. Why were you living on earth, hiding from them?”

“There’s good in the Institute. Oh, I can’t — won’t — explain. It’s complicated.”

“Dammit man, I’m not going to let the complications of a corrupt government push us aside. What happened to Amanda and Vanne?”

He examines his shoes. “They’re living in a tent at the outskirts of the village. They’re still hoping an Institute ship will rescue them.”

Ricard puts his arm around Grey. “My dear boy, let’s work together to help those people. Maybe the ships will come. In the meantime, they need to learn to help themselves. It won’t be summer forever and they’ll need proper shelter.”

Winter arrives early this year and the Institute exiles are living in small wooden houses they built, with the assistance of our carpenters. The only evidence that the Institute still exists is in the lights twinkling coldly on the moon, which surely mock our guests, reminding them of an easier if not simpler life. Grey has become a leader of sorts, stepping between both of our worlds. It suits him, although I catch him often searching the sky for the Fuerst and Gorian.

Grey’s become a talented carpenter as well as a farmer. He’s helping one of the castaways mend their roof when we spot a single figure in the distance. Ricard is clearly concerned, still cautious after many years of dealing with the strangeness of the lake. “Send guards.”

The guards approach the figure and wave for us to come. We find Gorian with them adorned in a strange suit and lugging an enormous pack. She looks at me, “You haven’t had the baby yet? What’s the matter with you?”

Grey lifts her up and smiles so broadly I’m afraid he may injure his face. “Where’ve you been?”

“You wouldn’t guess the half of it. I invented these clothes and the gadgets in this pack to resist the microbe. Amy had better hope they work.” She stares at me with disdain.

Gorian sets up a large tent next to their home, where she does research during her days. Luckily, Ferris still recognizes Gorian and from the moment they reunite, I see her soften. Gorian claims that if she finds the cure for the substance, she’ll bring the Institute back. Deep inside, I know she distrusts them as much as I do and no such thing will happen. Of course, if ships could return, it would be glorious to see Etch and the Fuerst again. I sense the Raven waiting for me in orbit. I wonder when I can bring her back to me.

A baby girl arrives to Theo, Eliza, and me shortly after the first snow. We name her Hope and the village celebrates her arrival. Bad feelings have wafted away, leaving a sense of peace, gratitude, and joy. The next day after Hope’s birth, Iggy returns with his children from the frigid lake. They bundle up and feast on the greens we’ve grown for them during the summer. We begin learning ways to communicate with our hands. Eliza’s ability to talk with them through their minds greatly improves our ability to talk. I’ve found that I can pick up bits and pieces as well, although I’m still more comfortable traveling in the minds of wild, unfettered animals of the forest than my companions.

Eliza and I spend each of our days wandering the lakeshore and working the earth. I’m delighted to learn as much from her as I teach her. We’ve built a garden together and we’re exploring the depth of our abilities to see beyond the world around us. Without the Raven, the lake’s less clear to me. However, I still sense the many doorways and with a little effort visit them, peering through at other worlds.

Chapter 66 – Birthdays

Today is Eliza’s twelfth birthday. The Raven swoops overhead, preparing to land before us. Eliza would prefer to spend the day with her friends and family, but I’m dragging her out over the lake, something I do most every day by myself. I am the keeper, after all. Someday, she and her sister will be responsible for the lake and it’s time for her to learn more deeply about the miracle at our doorstep.

With Gorian’s help, the Raven and the Fuerst visit us safely, although other vessels from the Institute dare not approach us. Gorian has mastered the bacteria — understands it and knows that it gives us freedom from the rest of crowded, conflicted, and angry space. Etch provides us with enough information and materials borrowed from the Institute to help ourselves without become spoiled.

“Happy birthday, Eliza.”

“Thanks Raven. Mom says that she has something special to show me.”

“Indeed she does.”

We skim across the lake looking into its depths. A swirling bank of stars hangs below us.

“What’s that?” Eliza asks mesmerized.

“It’s called a galaxy. It happens to be the one we live in. The portal we’re looking through is on a small planet with some very interesting plants. They’re intelligent and talk with each other.”

The Raven takes us to another spot where the world’s encrusted by dust.

“This is a world where the intelligent beings used up all their water and the planet died. Very sad.”

We spend most of the afternoon traveling from place to place. I explain how I learned of these places and how I’m able to travel into them with my mind — no need to make the physical jump. “I have a dear friend named Fromer. He’s similar to Etch. He walked into the portal and became part of it at great sacrifice to all of us. He’s the closest thing to a god I’ve ever seen in all my days traveling over this water.”

Eliza crinkles her nose. “Will I ever get to meet him?”

“I don’t know. I hope so.”

It’s getting late and Eliza’s tired. So am I.

“Eliza, I have one more thing to show you — a special birthday gift.”

The Raven cruises to a place both familiar and comforting. I stand up and sit her in the pilot’s chair.

“Eliza, I want you to meet your grandmother.”

A light appears and the cabin grows silent. The figure of my mother, as beautiful as she was the day she died, appears in the glow. She kneels down and Eliza runs to her.

The path to the future is complete. Somewhere out there, Fromer’s smiling.

THE END

Copyright

Copyright © 2014 James E. Garvey Books

All rights reserved.

Content

James G. Scotson
PLANETS FALLING

BOOK 1: BEGINNINGS

Chapter 1 – Mars

Chapter 2 – Interrogation

Chapter 3 – Aftermath

Chapter 4 – A New Generation

Chapter 5 – The Affair

Chapter 6 – Into the Light

Chapter 7 – Past Loves

Chapter 8 – Birth

Chapter 9 – Death

Chapter 10 – Separation

Chapter 11 – Falling

Chapter 12 – Rebirth

Chapter 13 – Probes Have Feelings Too

Chapter 14 – The Platform

Chapter 15 – Revelation

Chapter 16 – The Alien

Chapter 17 – Illumination

Chapter 18 – Vacuum

Chapter 19 – Childhood

Chapter 20 – Uncles

Chapter 21 – Dreams

Chapter 22 – Investigation

Chapter 23 – Departure

Chapter 24 – The Raven

Chapter 25 – Biology Lesson

Chapter 26 – Stasis

INTERLUDE

Chapter 27 – Escape

Chapter 28 – Descent

Chapter 29 – Fromer’s Past

Chapter 30 – Fight

Chapter 31 – Ghosts

Chapter 32 – Confrontation

Chapter 33 – Traveling

Chapter 34 – Camp

Chapter 35 – Invitation

Chapter 36 – Conflict

Chapter 37 – Landing

Chapter 38 – Crushes

Chapter 39 – Flight

Chapter 40 – Sleep

Chapter 41 – Nevermore

Chapter 42 – Fuerst

Chapter 43 – Earth

BOOK 2: ENDS

Chapter 44 – Amy

Chapter 45 – Little Green Men

Chapter 46 – Fromer the God

Chapter 47 – Cold Front

Chapter 48 – Extinguished

Chapter 49 – Hm

Chapter 50 – Escape

Chapter 51 – Descent

Chapter 52 – Camping

Chapter 53 – Return of the Fuerst

Chapter 54 – Thresh

Chapter 55 – Iggy’s Return

Chapter 56 – Morning

Chapter 57 – Rebirth

Chapter 58 – Unification

Chapter 59 – Escape Velocity

Chapter 60 – Yellow Stone

Chapter 61 – Confrontation

Chapter 62 – Institute Meets Earth

Chapter 63 – Progress

Chapter 64 – Release

Chapter 65 – Aftermath

Chapter 66 – Birthdays

Copyright