Warrior Chronicles 3: Warrior's Realm (6 page)

Cort thought of Bazal and his telepathy.
It wasn’t just me, love.
“What about now?”

“Now? Now I am okay. I am sure there will be times when it hurts, though. But for now, I am content. How about you?”

“I need to meet with everyone. Our people first, then the civvies, then other alliances. But ultimately, I think humanity has to unite. We can’t do this as a fragmented society.”

Kim picked a brush up from the table next to her and began to groom Zandra. Coke watched and became jealous. It was almost a game they played. The result was always the same though: She would end up brushing one wolf until the other nosed the brush, then she would switch. It would go on until they were both asleep. She asked Cort, “What do we have to do?”

“We have to fight. we have to fight for those who cannot.”

“Humanity has always done that.”

“Not always, Kim. And much of humanity has forgotten how to fight. I have to teach them.”

“No.
We
have to teach them. Our pack will teach them.”

Cort’s comm chimed. He put in his earpiece and answered, “Addison.”

“Hey, Gramps. We need some direction. You can’t kill a prime minister and then disappear.”

“Fuck you, Rand. It was your coup.”

“No, sir. It was yours and you know it. There was no other way this could go down. That’s why Mike and I prepared for it. But all that is water under the bridge. You’ve gotta step up now.”

It occurred to Cort that of all the modern humans he had met, Rand had adopted Cort’s twenty-first century ways and idiosyncrasies  more than anyone else. Even contractions. Rand was beginning to use them as much as Cort himself did. He also thought he could hear
Joe Walsh
playing in the background at Rand’s end of the connection. “I want to talk to Dar first. Then the Ares leaders. Then the other alliances.”
But first I need to talk to The Confessor.

“Yes, sir. When?”

Cort looked at the display on his wall. 2000 hours North American time.
Fuck. When am I going to sleep?
“0800 North America. What’s going on at Mars? No, scratch that. That’s your problem. Just set up my meetings. I’ll be on Earth for them. Two hours apart if possible.”

“Yes, sir. Get some sleep, Gramps. You sound like shit. Mars out.”

--

Cort was walking along a stretch of path that led through a copse of oak-like trees when Bazal joined him. The wolves were running among the ancient, naturally sculpted topiary. Coke was as large as Zandra now and promised to be nearly as large as Sköll had been. It was hard to imagine the little patch of fur that used to harass Zandra so long ago. The memory made Cort think of Kay once again.

“May I join you, Cortland?”

“Of course, Bazal. How are you?”

“Better than you, I suspect. I have had much longer to adjust to my burden, Cortland. You are just beginning to realize yours.”

“No, my friend, I have always known my burden. What I am just beginning to realize is its scope.”

“Perhaps. If I may speak freely, I have been through this many times. I can anticipate many of your questions, so I believe it would be better for me to tell you something of my story. Then you can ask any additional questions you may have. Is this acceptable?”

“Of course.”

“May I commune with you? It is less… complicated for me that way, and it will take less time.”

“Of course. Thank you for asking, Bazal.”

Once a new being realizes my nature, courtesy demands I ask permission before joining with them in this way. You are unique Cortland. Very few beings ever grasp this ability, and even then only after some time. Generations in some cases. For you to do so after such a short time is intriguing to me. I shall ponder it for some time after this day.

My home planet was quite vibrant. There was very little land above water. Originally we ventured onto it only for exploration, but over time, we developed methods of manufacture and science that were attainable under water. We first reached for the stars some twenty thousand of your years ago. Within two centuries, we had discovered ways of jumping through space. The first to do so came back changed. We had always been protected from radiation by our atmosphere and oceans. We did not take that into account when we reached for the abyss of space.

Those who went to space seemed normal upon their return, but as they reproduced we realized their young were quite different. They seemed to vocalize without sound. Within a few generations, there were very few of us left that were not telepathic. By then we knew the reason for it, and developed technology to protect us from further mutation.

Keep in mind, we had never developed any type of military. At home, it was not needed. Indeed, it wasn’t until a thousand years after we first left our home system that we discovered those who make war. They destroyed one of our ships in that first encounter. We had thought then that communication wasn’t possible through space. After that encounter, our scientists came to realize that the shielding we used on our ships to protect us from radiation also blocked our minds. They began to develop and find other ways to protect us, including minerals that we ingested, and we returned to the system where our ship had been lost.

Upon arrival, we were confronted again by the occupants of that system. Our people heard the other species thinking about how they would destroy us. One scientist on the ship simply thought, “Do not destroy us,” and the enemy complied. We found that most species we encountered were susceptible to our suggestive thoughts to one degree or another, so that became our defense. We did find some species that were immune to our suggestion. They were usually, but not always, from systems exposed to disproportionately high amounts of certain forms of radiation.

It was during this time, some 17,000 years ago, that we first encountered the crystal. We did nothing because we did not know how to do anything. We realized within a few more centuries that that crystal was expanding and we began to move ahead of it, warning other species of the threat. Some species tried to fight the crystal, but none were able to. Many had not even achieved the technological prowess to leave their own atmospheres, much less flee their system.

Our vital requirements were usually so dramatically different that we could not help them. We did what we could though. We remembered them by creating vast archives of their history. We have millions of tomes recounting the history of peoples who have been gone from our galaxy for millennia. We decided to find other species that weren’t yet in danger and enlist their help. Thus the Collaboration born. Over time, the current system of relocating endangered peoples was developed.

Eventually, the Collaboration become an economic group as well. When Speral’s species was found, we manipulated them into joining us. Ah, Speral’s people. Truly the most deadly species known in this galaxy. Until you, anyway. Do you know they have a microbe within them that analyzes any living thing they touch? Were you to just shake their hand, the microbes analyze your touch and synthesize poisons that are added to the sacs in their spines. Within hours of touching you, they have the ability to inject you with that poison. It is quite deadly. I daresay it would even defeat your synthetic blood. Either the metallic type or your newer biotic type.

They were too dangerous though. Over several generations, they became more docile under our influence. Had we not manipulated them so, perhaps they would have been able to fulfill your current role. We did retain their technology though. It was modified to allow Collaborative species to deflect weapons used against our ships. That is how Atlantica’s weapons were used against it. You surprised us though, Cortland.  You did not give us the chance to deflect your weapons. Not even Speral’s acute reflexes are capable of defending against your weapons. 

You know the rest, Cortland. Your species cannot be allowed into the Collaboration, because for you to join us would condemn the galaxy, or at least what we know of it so far. To be sure, there are other warlike species out there, and we know of many of them. But they do not possess cunning and wrath and adaptability in the quantities and balance that you do, Cortland.  Truly, I had discounted humanity for that reason. Until you appeared, humanity had become too docile to have been of use to us. Clearly, they were still deadly, but docile and deadly are different matters.

Your arrival back in this time stream has woken a long dormant aspect of your species. I had hoped it would. Yes Cortland, I knew of you. When Speral first reported the use of her beacons on your planet, I began to watch your species. Perhaps it is better to say that I began to listen to your species. There was one you knew, one named Benjamin Natsumo, who piqued my interest. I listened to him for many of your years. Both before and after you transitioned. Your friend was once a good man, Cortland. When he first encountered the beacons though, he became quite evil. You have always wondered what his true goal was, haven’t you?

Cort was shaking. When Bazal mentioned Natsumo, his previous life came flooding back to him. His friendship with Ben, Angela’s drinking, seeing his sister’s frozen arm in Denver. Finally his mind was filled with the memory of holding Diane’s broken and charred little body in the emergency room. He stopped and sat at a bench to regain his composure. Bazal reached out mentally and calmed the human.
I am sorry you don’t have more time to process this, Cortland, but Prime Minister Verne’s outburst created a problem that must be dealt with. I will calm you for now. Eventually, you will have to face it on your own.

Ben Natsumo wanted to develop the technology to jump across your planet, clearly for military reasons. Without the beacon you had hidden, and without Doctor Barr’s and Doctor Kevellen’s notes, he was not able to realize his goal. But I knew you through him. What he knew of you, I was able to sense. I began to listen to you as well.  When you agreed to jump forward, I waited, hoping you would be able to help us when you reappeared. Your mate Amber Hansen, do you remember her, Cortland? Her preparations for you. Her building of your clan. She is as much a savior to the galaxy as you may be.

Cort was lost in his agony. Diane’s funeral flashed through his mind and he remembered his brother Brandon holding him up. He remembered taking her ashes to the gold claim and spreading them along the trail the two had hiked so many times together. He remembered that Angela was back in Oklahoma in her family plot, now part of the Memorial Sea. It was overwhelming when he realized that while it had been less than a decade for him, it had been centuries for everyone he now knew. None of them had any memory of those he had loved and lost. Bazal though, he knew them. He knew the son that was unknown to Cort. Finally, he realized that if what Bazal said was true, the cephalopod might remember Diane as well.

I only saw her through your eyes, but she was a beautiful child and her love for you was complete.

Cort spoke audibly, “I need to be alone, Bazal.” Looking up, he added, “Thank you for comforting Kim. But that’s not what I need. Please don’t do that for me.”

“Very well. May I remain here with Kimberly until your return?”

“You are always welcome here. I hope to see you when I return.” As Bazal’s tank moved away, Cort buried his face in his hands and wept.

--

The next morning, Bazal left his tank and slipped into the brackish water of Solitude. At Kim’s request, he carried an imager that gave her a more complete picture of the planet’s aquatic environment. Kim had seen it using armor and remote equipment, but Bazal allowed her to see things from a more natural perspective. For Bazal himself, the experience was cathartic. The creatures he encountered were peaceful toward him, though he had little doubt they would have attacked any other being who so invaded their realm.

He stopped listening and drifted with currents, all the while feeling Solitude’s namesake overtake and cleanse him. It might have been the pristine ocean he swam in, or it might have been that he had finally shared his true nature with another being, but Bazal was hopeful. The feeling reminded him of the Addison family crest and its motto
Hope lies in the Blood
. Cortland’s progeny had no idea the accuracy of the phrase. Amber Hansen had chosen it well, those many years past. As he left the water, Bazal felt freer. He felt as if the weight of so many species was lighted from his own shoulders. Now he shared that burden with another.