The Loranth (Star Sojourner Book 1) (24 page)

What a luxury to speak of futures!

Great Mind, I've just seen it,
one sent, returning from the museum.
The act of a wanton child! Sye Kor was right. They are vicious beasts. They lust after power only so they can destroy with it. Better for all the races when they enter geth with no gene carriers left behind.
He pointed at me. He is good only for this one act.

What act?
I wondered.

A gray Loranth brushed my legs as he circled. I aimed at him for warning. A massive body filled my screen and I was bumped hard. Jolted. I lost my grip on Jack. A second Loranth slid by, ripping my suit on his raised spines. “You bastards!” I swam down after Jack, who was drifting away, and caught his wrist. “The next slug touches us makes a fast trip into geth.”

That's what they are best at,
one sent bitterly.

“Only second to Loranths,” I answered.

Stop,
Kris N' commanded his people.
You act like wild kwaii. Do you shell the plan that easily?
he admonished them.

What plan?
I wondered.

They quieted as he approached me and circled slowly, keeping them at bay. I was so weary. I wanted only to rest on the bottom next to Jack. Death wasn't difficult, I decided. It was staying alive that was hard. Why was Kor holding back? Or who was holding him back, more likely.

I felt a familiar dark chuckle inside my head.
Soon now, destroyer,
Sye Kor sent.

I purged our suits and drifted to the bottom, flanked by Kris N'. I didn't know if Jack were still alive as we touched ground. The walls, the Loranths surrounding us seemed to be drifting. I waited for the dizziness to pass. When it didn't, I moved along the bottom, holding onto Jack by a strap and following Kor's tel path.

“I'm coming, slug.” I kept drifting to the right and correcting. This one last effort, then I could rest. Would rest.

My Loranths,
I heard Kris N' send as he swam beside me,
the outcome of this Binding remains cloaked for me, which makes me suspect that in spite of your energies on my behalf, my kwaii state is close. Keep your minds on the Terran issue, my kin, and our many Turnings of Loranth Oneness, which is the real business here. I urge you with all my waning strength to consider a Healing Bind.

Whispers among many minds. A sense of surprise.
A Healing Bind!
I heard over and over.

I sensed anxiety in the old Monarch. Was he protecting me or guiding me to some contrived fate?
The Terran issue,
he'd sent.
What's a Healing Bind?
I sent to the monarch and wished my mind were clearer.
Can your Loranths find a cure?

I have urged them to try,
the monarch sent,
but success is not assured.

The edges of reality were darkening and it felt as though my thoughts were growing mold.

Old Monarch,
Kor sent,
I say your request for a Healing Bind goes against a Loranth's create for the sake of a malicious race.

I knew he was close, the way you know when you've followed an odor trail and finally reach its repulsive source, like a dead skunk under the porch.

Sye Kor, the monarch sent,
the maliciousness is deep within your own kwaii.

My heart kept pace with the throbbing in my head as the Loranths moved aside. I saw him then, stretched out on a ledge. I shined my light on the slug and raised my sonar screen. Every line of his body, every foul hump and curve of him strengthened the hatred that kept me going. I pictured him dismembered like the statues, scattered in harmless chunks on the bottom.

“Here's your first Terran victim.' I laid Jack down. “Are you pleased? Because you'll have to view the others from geth.” I blinked to focus. Kor's left shoulder was purple and raw in my light, the skin on that side of his head had curled back from seared flesh. His left gill was in shreds. I'd hit my mark at the reservoir.

“Is it painful, Kor? Do your wounds burn down to your warped kwaii?”

He flicked his tail.
The pain is lessened by the deaths I sense in your hive by West Sea. Feel their anguish, blindcraw. Feel the dying of Terrans across great voids! It makes this small pain bearable.

The stingler wavered as I pointed it at him.

I felt his laugh. The crotemunger wanted to die! I spent my last reserves on a futile rage inside me. He
wanted
the release to geth state. Was he lying about the deaths of my people? Great Mind, please let him be lying! I felt his chuckle against my mind and swept my light around me. Where was Jack?

The Loranths had closed ranks, were silently watching. Kris N' remained by my side. So this was to be my last act. Perform the execution, the coup de grâce, which their laws probably forbade them from doing, but could relegate to a lesser species, to hunter-slaves! No mercy killings of Loranths, but genocide for Terrans?

“Why couldn't you just take out your revenge on me?” I screamed at Kor from my inner being. “Why did you have to attack my people? Why?”

Does one destroy the weapons,
he sent,
and leave the hands to fashion new ones?

The need for revenge clawed in me like the pain of an open wound. “Maybe I am the hand of Great Mind,” I sent. “Through me, you hope to get your twisted revenge on God Himself!” I felt surprise from those around me. “Your own words, Kor.” Was it possible they didn't know that Kor had doomed Terrans as an act of revenge against Great Mind? They knew it now!

Kris N' swam between me and Kor.
Jules! Did Sye Kor threaten to release the death agent for revenge after you shot him?

No, Kris N',
I sent wearily.
Long before that.

You call me a liar, Kris N'?
Kor sent.
I have only killed these two destroyers!

He's lying,
I sent.
He told me the Calling Stone of Terran destruction had already been carved. That's why I shot him.
I coughed, grabbed my chest as my heart beat erratically.
See if he dares to deny it to his Monarch.
My thoughts were swamped to distraction by the linkings of countless minds, like cells in one brain, as they considered this breach of Loranth code. How did they sort through all that head chatter?

Kor growled, lifted off the bottom and swam toward me. I aimed the stingler and fired, raking his tail flukes. I felt a deep satisfaction when he roared, his flank torn, and twisted as he slammed down his tail in agony. His mouth remained open, lips drawn back from hooked teeth, almost as though smiling. I aimed for his head, those pinhole patterns that passed for features, that sadistic brain behind it. My hand wavered, my thumb already hard against the firing stud. If I didn't kill him, would that be considered a civilized act, worthy of the Loranth ethic code? A turning of the cheek?

Kor shuddered, then lunged off the bottom and came at me. A ton or so of pure raging hell. I wanted nothing more from this life than to burn a hole through that malevolent head.

But I lowered the stingler.

The gun was whipped from my hand by Kris N', who fired point blank at Kor and threw himself in front of me as Kor's body slammed into him.

The shock wave tumbled me across the bottom and I lost my light. I pushed down the screen and scanned.

Kor lay still. Finally. He was still. Drifting to the bottom. His power gone. Too late. Too late. Where was he now? I didn't give a crotemunger's oil sacs.

Kris N' had mentioned a Healing Bind. Would they do whatever it took to save humans, now that I had refused to kill a Loranth? Did that meet with their code of ethics?

“Jack?” I muttered.” It's over, Jack.” I trembled with cold, the heat gone from my body. Loranths moved aside as I searched the bottom for him. He lay unmoving. I draped myself across him and felt a sudden draining of strength.

Jack had been right. We'd done what we could. A cozy darkness spread and water sustained me better than air. I watched dispassionately from lidded eyes as the Monarch lifted the stingler to his own head. A harpoon of light bridged to his right temple. He sank, trailing a dark clot.

Had I dreamed it all in some feverish delirium? I closed my eyes and dreamed a pod of whales had beached themselves in Leone's harbor.

Something touched me. “Get the leader back in the water,” I mumbled, “the biggest female. The rest'll follow.” I lowered my head to Jack's chest and let reality drift.

The desert sun burns hot on our shoulders. Our mouths are parched. Sand. Blowing into our eyes, our ears. But all we have in the canteens is whiskey. I stumble and it scares me. We have to stay on our feet. Have to keep walking! But Jack is down. “C'mon, tag. I think I remember where we left our cache. It's under that ledge there. I'll get us a drink. It'll be all right. Wait here.”

But the sun turns cold and breaks on stones and I tremble alone in an alien city lit by phosphorescence as hands not human lift me.

I sat apart on the shore of Leone Harbor, gazing seaward, waiting for the historic meeting. From Cape Leone came the peal of church bells, each stroke tolling another grave.

Thad Denning roamed among the silent Terran crowd, collaring representatives from Interstel, Worlds Court, Earth Central, for comments on this momentous occasion. I'd refused an on-camera interview. Now Thad left me alone. I'll give him this, he was going for in-depth investigative journalism, the jugular, when statesmen attempted to substitute glib rhetoric for the hard facts concerning treaties, territorial rights, and responsibility for over two hundred Terran deaths.

But the sky was clear and pink and it was a mild day. Soon the harbor would foam with the Lords of Syl' Tyrria, come to make first contact and exchange things cultural. A group of people nearby kept glancing my way and whispering among themselves. I forced a smile, nodded. They returned both.

After all, we'd won, in a sense. We were most of us still here.

This time.

I picked up a chambered shell. The beach was littered with them, like deaf ears pressed to the sand. I ran a thumb across iridescent whorls, probed dark chambers. Was I the only one who realized how close we'd come? What if I hadn't lowered my weapon when Kor charged? Or Kris N' hadn't convinced the Loranths to go for a Healing Bind and then killed Kor so I wouldn't be forced to go against their laws? A knife had been thrown at the heart of the Terran race and been deflected only after the edge cut skin. Kris'N was the real hero. I hoped he'd made a good kwaii transformation.

I raised the shell to my ear, heard the echo of long waves hiss like virulent thoughts as they raked pebbles at my feet.

What if the Loranths hadn't identified the viral agent from my blood and Jack's, and been able to develop a vaccine in their body glands to release into the reservoir? What if these thoughts haunted me for the rest of my life?

Drink water. The cure is in the water.

That message from the Loranths, relayed by Stanley on Jack's manta's radio outside Kor's den, had been the Loranths' real first contact. It made this meeting seem anticlimactic.

I watched a child about Lisa's age pause on the beach to pick up a shell. She put it to her ear, picked up another and giggled at me as she talked into it as though it were a comlink. I smiled back, dusted sand off my shell and stuffed it into my backpack for Lisa.

A Terran police robot rolled by on fat beach tires and joined the others patrolling the shore. Programmed for mob control, I concluded, as real spikers moved among them, checking their chest panels. But where was Hallarin? Was he unimpressed by history in the making? I wouldn't doubt it. His frail wife had been among the first victims of the plague. Old people and infants were hardest hit. But the Leone ships heading for Earth and the other colonies had been diverted in time. All but one. A freighter to planet Fartherland.

Vaccine was being rushed to the Terrans at the gold mines there and a town called Gorestail. But reports weren't back yet and there were close to three thousand humans living on Fartherland.

The little girl's mother called her and she tossed the shells into the water and ran. I watched the shells go round and round as they sank through crystal water.

Right now Terran pioneer ships were heading out to newly discovered E-type planets in distant star systems, bearing optimistic names on their hulls: Spirit of Terra, Outward Quest, Star Trek. What rolls of the die awaited them behind that mild pink sky? Had Sye Kor come closest to the truth of existence with his belief in a malevolent god, or Christine with her severe, unforgiving father image, or perhaps Stanley with his Buddhist wheel of suffering and reincarnation? I watched Stanley serenely meditating under a tree and envied him his belief in something.

But the sky was mild, the day warm, and everyone awaited Loranths. Though some seemed more intent on listening to church bells. Spikers had searched the crowd and confiscated weapons, including my stingler. Just in case. What the hell. One more stingler. With any luck I'd never need it again.

Jack sat down and handed me two soydogs with ketchup and relish, on a paper plate. I'd asked for mustard but he was in no mood for quibbling.

“Where'd you go for the damn things, back to Earth?” I asked him.

“Long line,” he said around a mouthful of salami and bread. “The politicians want to meet you, Julie.”

I glanced at the Terran dignitaries, smiling and waving at the crowd from their platform with the blue and gold Interstel flag, also waving. “I'm afraid I'd spoil their festive mood.”

He nodded, his unruly hair lifting in the breeze. His natural expression had grown dark these last days. “You figure you really destroyed their museum?”

His youngest son, dark-haired James, with a smile to melt the stones, had died of the disease while we were still in the Loranth's Grotto, and Annie was recuperating from it, and a miscarriage. Now Robbie… Last night he'd come down with a fever. I put the hot soydog back on the plate. “I think it was their museum, library, school, maybe even church. Did you call the hospital?”

He nodded. “Annie's doing OK.”

“Robbie?” I held my breath.

“Just the flu.” He smiled his crooked smile. “Kid's strong as a bull.”

I breathed again. “Must take after his mother.”

“Yeah.” He stopped chewing and stared at sand, suddenly quiet. I heard him sigh. “Thing of it is, Jamie trusted me so much,” he said softly. “Daddy could always…” His lip quivered and he shook his head.

“Jack, you're the best father I know. The best.”

“Yeah. Time Annie called me home from work to fix his toy fire truck 'cause he wouldn't stop crying when the hose fell off.” He picked up a pebble and rolled it between fingers.

I clamped down on my quivering lower lip.

“I took a lot of airchumping from the tags at work over that one, I'll tell you. After that, they called me the fire hose man.”

I smiled.

“Well.” He flipped the pebble into sand. “We done everything we could. That's what Annie just said.”

“And you know Annie's always right.”

He sighed. “I guess it could've been worse.”

I looked at him. It was an understatement worthy to be carved in the stelbanks for future generations to read and admire. IT COULD'VE BEEN WORSE. Donated by Jack Cole. “You seen Hallarin?” I asked.

The old crote retired, effective today. Going to live with his daughter an' her family back on Earth.”

“Oh, yeah?” I wiped ketchup off the soydog and took a bite. “He'll probably hold inspection every morning and hand them their orders for the day.”

“Airchew at the station says her husband's not exactly tail thumping about it. So what's your plans?”

“Home sounds good.”

He slid me a look. “Where's that now?”

“Earth.”

“Earth's a big planet, buddy, an' you get lost easy.”

“A person can get lost anywhere, Jack, or find himself a home anywhere.”

“You don't find 'em, Julie, you make 'em.”

We were quiet for a while, staring seaward. An empty feeling inside me refused to go away, in spite of soydog and the remains of ketchup.

Jack shifted his weight. “Figured I'd help you flush out that hairless wonder you're so hot on. You know, the one with tits.”

“I don't know, Jack.” I grinned. “There's more to life than tits.”

He nodded. “And you've been out in the desert too long, buddy. I guess it's time for you to go home.”

“I think so too.” I threw a rock into the water, which had turned choppy, and wondered about the plague-ridden wild animals. The Institute was pouring vaccine into streams and rivers.
Gretch, take care, ole girl, wherever you are.

“Here they come.” Jack stood up.

Despite grief and tolling bells, I sensed excitement in the Terran crowd as the Lords of Syl' Tyrria surfaced, leaped, sliced water and tore it into white shreds. The younger Loranths chased each other through the churning inlet. There seemed a pure joy of existence in their movements, like dance. I couldn't help responding emotionally.

“Playful bunch, ain't they?” he remarked bitterly.

There were curses from some Terrans and rocks were flung into the harbor. The police forced people back from the shore, though many were cheering.

“It's going to be an uneasy truce.” I got up and brushed sand off my pants. “Walk with me to the spaceport?”

He stared at me, nodded. “If it's what you want.”

Sye Jules.

I stopped.
Morth?
I sent.

Morth,
he responded inside my head.
Sarr Jai T Lor appointed you the Terran emissary. Will you perform that function now, brother?

I stared at the harbor. Cleoceans were flinging themselves into the water, swimming out to meet the stately Loranths like playful dolphins. Zenorgisms swarmed above the surface in long strings, lifting over wave swells, while Shayls glided and soared, the sun glancing off white and saffron wings. Even Altairians slithered onto wet jetties, while Vegans plunged into the water, their natural habitat, and swam out to greet the Loranths. Dineans stayed back, though, singing a ballad in stelspeak they'd composed just for the occasion.

I doubt if I could be impartial, Morth. The Terran Stanley Fields is your real emissary. I'm leaving Syl' Tyrria.
I felt his disappointment as I turned away from the harbor, and mentally shrugged.