Authors: Kevin J. Anderson
He had wandered through the dig site, squirming into crannies and little holes in the ruins that the adults could never explore. One time, he’d discovered a room with a few dusty artifacts, but the investigators had 198
scolded him, then chided Margaret and Louis for allowing their kid to scuff up the dusty and fragile remnants with his small footprints.
“Sometimes my father would sit with me at night,” he told Vao’sh.
“We’d build a little campfire of our own, using the dry tinder grasses around the Klikiss towers. He was good-hearted, but he didn’t really know how to talk to anyone who wasn’t a colleague. I remember watching the sparks drift like fairy lights into the sky, while my father rambled about Klikiss theory and university politics.”
When Vao’sh sat beside him and spoke, his expressive voice was rich with undertones of sympathy. “Do you recall that Maratha Prime was known as the City on the Brink, poised between daylight and darkness?
We are here, safe and sheltered under our domes, with all the light our blazers can shed. I can tell my stories to a captive audience—no rememberer could ask for more.” His expression changed, the lobes on his face flushing through a palette of colors. “But every day, no matter how much brightness we keep inside, the night remains black and impenetrable out there.”
Anton turned away from his wan reflection. “There’s really nothing to fear out in the dark, you know, Vao’sh. With the hydrogues abroad and all the planets they’ve destroyed, we’ve got enough real danger to worry about.”
“That may be true, Rememberer Anton, but one’s fears are not based solely on logical analysis.” Vao’sh touched his friend’s shoulder in a human gesture he had learned from Anton. “Come with me. Designate Avi’h is hosting another banquet and wishes everyone to join him.”
“Again?”
“Again.”
“Then we’d best do our jobs. Could you think of a . . . distracting story for me tonight? How about a ghost story? I’d like that.”
Vao’sh pondered. “I’m not certain the others would appreciate it as much, but I will do it for you, Anton.”
In the central dining hall reserved for huge crowds during the height of the day season, several small tables had been set out for the thirty-seven remaining inhabitants. The Designate considered it a cheery place, but the grandness of the hall seemed to diminish the size of their company by comparison.
Anton dined on fresh vegetables and preserved meats. The two agricultural kithmen Mhas’k and Syl’k were proud of their bountiful produce, though the returned Designate was consuming fresh supplies so quickly that they would run out of food before long.
The engineer Nur’of enthusiastically reported on the new turbines he had installed in the ancient tunnels he’d found beneath Maratha Prime, but the Designate seemed neither impressed nor interested. Avi’h raised his hands. “Time for something entertaining! My father dispatched his greatest rememberer to keep us company here on Maratha Prime. So, Vao’sh, tell us your best story.”
Beside the Designate, Bhali’v officiously repeated the order. Vao’sh turned most of his attention to Anton. “In honor of our human guest, I will tell a . . . chilling story.” Designate Avi’h frowned, as if he had hoped for a heroic tale or a ribald adventure, but he sat back and listened.
“The Spiral Arm contains many mysteries. Once, in an earlier age when the Empire was growing, our intrepid explorers traveled great distances to shine light upon the deepest questions of the universe. Our thism extended far, the threads stretched across many star systems. The Mage-Imperator wanted to know the universe, to have his people touch it all.
“Thus, a septa of exploration craft was sent into a dark nebula we call the Mouth of Space—a black enigma that had defied analysis by our best astronomers. The Mage-Imperator wished to know the secrets of this mysterious place between the stars. And though darkness is fearful to Ildirans, their warliners were strung with extra blazers, both inside and out, and the seven ships sailed forth into the black zone.”
Vao’sh paused, and his facial lobes flickered through a symphony of colors and emotions. He changed his voice and spoke quickly to startle his listeners. “But they vanished!”
Anton listened to him, identifying some of the techniques he himself had taught the old rememberer.
Vao’sh leaned forward, closer to his audience. “The entire septa was lost for centuries. No one knew what had happened to those seven ships or the members of their brave crews, but through the thism the Mage-Imperator sensed that something had gone terribly awry. Something cold, and dark, and sinister. No one dared venture into the Mouth of Space to learn the answer. The black nebula hung there like a blot against the stars, 200
anathema to the Lightsource.” The storyteller’s face flushed ominous colors mixed with pallid tinges denoting fear.
“Centuries later, an investigation team found the seven ships again.
They were out of power, frozen, completely lifeless. Just drifting and far from any star system. When salvage workers cut their way through the hulls, they discovered that every Ildiran aboard was dead. They had all been killed at the same time, instantly, yet terribly! As if they had been confronted by their most awful fears, struck down by a weapon none of them could understand, locked in infinite pain and horror.”
Vao’sh waved one finger. “But they were not just slain, no. Each of their bodies was bleached utterly white. The expressions on their faces, from the lowest soldier kithman to the septar himself, looked as if they had all seen something so unbearable that it quenched the Lightsource within them, darkened their very souls, and stole every spark of life from their minds.”
He looked around slowly, meeting every set of eyes, lowering his voice to a chilling tone.
“We know now that deep in the black Mouth of Space, those ships were the first to encounter the Shana Rei: creatures that live shrouded by shadows around dead stars. Their civilization had sucked all the light out of that area of space. We do not know what that exploration team did to anger the Shana Rei.
“Not long afterward, the creatures of darkness emerged and began to spread their shadows. Thus began a time of stories too fearsome to share here. It was our Empire’s most terrible conflict—until now, with the hydrogues.”
Anton looked at the gathered listeners, all of whom appeared uneasy.
Vao’sh had used familiar talespinning tricks, but his resonant voice and the emotions displayed on his lumpy face added a depth to the frightening scene, even though there hadn’t been much of a plot. Ildirans just weren’t good at this sort of story.
Anton realized he was the only one smiling in the audience. The others seemed particularly uncomfortable to hear this part of the Saga of Seven Suns. While humans could listen to campfire tales and ghost stories with a shudder, knowing they were mere clever fictions, Ildirans believed in the truth of every portion of their epic.
“Thank you, Vao’sh. A very well-told tale,” he said, and his voice seemed to break the tension. The old rememberer looked to him with an appreciative nod.
Before the other Ildirans could utter a nervous sigh of relief and turn back to their meals, they heard a loud muffled bang. Moments later, from beneath the domed city, came the thump and rumble of a second explosion.
Designate Avi’h stood up. “Now what is this?”
The generators stopped, cutting the power. All the lights went out, and blackness swallowed the entire city of Maratha Prime.
555DAVLIN LOTZE
While Rlinda Kett unloaded the necessary supplies and took aboard seven volunteers who wanted to seek their fortunes on an untamed Klikiss world, Davlin walked alone to the main colony settlement, head held high. It was time to admit who he was and what he had done, and hope his former neighbors accepted him back among them.
When he had lived here before, the people had liked him, and he’d pretended to feel the same . . . or at least it started out as pretending. None of them ever guessed he was a “specialist in obscure details” assigned to study the evacuated Ildiran settlement here. Davlin determined that the Ildirans had left nothing behind, however, and the Chairman had eventually called him secretly away, presumably much to the shock of the remaining settlers.
If they had somehow learned that he was a Hansa spy, they must have wondered if he had kept files about their private lives. A spy was a spy.
Davlin braced himself for well-deserved censure. But if he intended to live among them again, he had to be honest. Would they ever forgive him?
202
Now he entered Crenna’s small meeting hall and administrative offices, rehearsing again how he would explain himself to the mayor. Originally, the mayor—a chubby, bronze-skinned farmer named Lupe Ruis—had taken care of bureaucratic matters in only a few hours a week. Lately, as the colony prospered, running the settlement had become a full-time job.
When Mayor Ruis saw him, however, the man’s wide face split with a grin. “Davlin Lotze! Welcome home. We’ve all been hoping for your return.” He opened his arms and stepped forward, full of good cheer. “Is your secret mission completed now?” He sounded conspiratorial . . . and delighted. “We’ve heard about all the important work you do for the Hansa. And here we thought you were just a run-of-the-mill colonist like the rest of us, but you’re a celebrity!”
“How—how did you know?”
The mayor waved his hand dismissively. “You must be kidding, right?
Captain Kett’s been back here. She and Branson Roberts have quite a thing going, you know. She’s told us how you’re an expert investigator in Ildiran sociology and that you were the one who discovered the Klikiss transportal network. Great job!”
“Captain Kett was with me at the time. She helped me discover—”
Ruis put an arm around his shoulder. “You’re a hero, Davlin! We’re so proud of you. And to think you were one of us, just laying low here.”
Nonplussed, Davlin could think of nothing to say except, “Thank you.”
With an abrupt gesture, Ruis pushed aside the paperwork on his desk as if to show just how unimportant it was. “And now you’ve come back to settle down for a while? Until duty calls again? I can’t tell you how delighted we are. Captain Roberts and his ship just left to do shuttle work for the colonization initiative, and a few of our people volunteered to go off to the Klikiss worlds. We could certainly use someone versatile and . . . uh, competent among us again.”
“I . . . appreciate your confidence and your enthusiasm, Mayor Ruis. I wasn’t sure how I would be received. Is my old dwelling still available, or did someone else claim it?”
The mayor looked surprised. “It’s still waiting for you. Our colony hasn’t exactly had the need for much expansion, Davlin. We’re just trying to hold our own here.”
“Any further outbreaks of Orange Spot?”
“No, sir. The amebic filtration system you installed in the drinking water conduits has kept us all safe.” The ruddy-skinned mayor broke into another grin. “I hope you’re ready to be put to work, though. We could use your help with our infrastructure, especially the electricity and the sew-ers. And then we’d like you to look at our comm systems and transmitting towers. Heavy solar activity and ionic storms have been messing up our local network for the past year.”
“That isn’t my area of expertise, but I’ll have a look at it.”
Ruis gave him a wink. “According to Captain Kett, you know a little bit about everything.” The mayor walked with him out of his office. “We’re certainly glad to have you back.”
That night, contented yet somehow restless, Davlin walked along the low hills on the outskirts of town. It felt oddly satisfactory to be here. Overhead, Crenna’s highly reflective moon bathed the landscape with silvery light, challenging the darkness. Lunar brightness had been a factor that originally made this world attractive to the Ildirans, who did not at all like dark nights.
The hills were rocky and low, covered with gnarled, hollow trees called flutewoods. The empty branches were perforated with tiny holes through which the breezes blew, turning them into natural woodwind instruments.
As the wind rose and fell, the whistling atonal melody played like a strange lullaby, ranging from high-pitched piccolo notes in the narrow branches to deep bassoon tones in the wider, hollow trunks.
Many of the stars were washed out by the moonlight, but he stared up at them, picking out constellations, reflecting on how far he had come in his travels across the Spiral Arm. The rushing sounds of small streams trickling along the hillside and the rattling of tall grasses accompanied the flutewood symphony.
So much better than the nightmarish world he had last visited through the Klikiss transportal. No flying jellyfish-creatures or giant centipedes here. He stood alone, completely at peace. He was glad to be back on Crenna. It seemed almost like . . . home.
Suddenly Davlin saw the diamond points of several stars moving, then streaking across the sky like meteors, though they did not burn up in the 204
atmosphere. Instead, they passed rapidly across the backdrop. Ships? Visitors?
Three pinpoints traveled in a direct trajectory, then another six. Line after line shot across the vault of stars. Davlin narrowed his eyes. He had never seen such phenomena before. High up, ten more pinpoints streaked by until dazzling lights filled the night sky like the flakes of a driving snow-storm.
Davlin felt a cold dread in his chest.
Several pinpoints changed course, swerving around and expanding their coverage. He began to hear sounds now, the rapid passage of something immense and distant. Shooting stars ripped across the sky, swooping lower.
In the village below, he heard confused shouts. Other colonists had emerged from their dwellings to stare up at the sky. Davlin remained on the rise where he had the best view.