“What do you think happened to the occupants of the other tanks?” Eddie asked, looking at the six empty chambers. “If some of the tanks had malfunctioned, wouldn’t they all have malfunctioned eventually?”
“One would think so,” she agreed. “We’ll have to ask those two for answers.” She nodded toward the two waking tanks.
“Pruit, look at this!” Eddie picked up something between two of the tanks and handed it to her.
It was a data crystal, yellow orange with red bands and five inches long. She took it in her hands and saw that there was something wrong with it. It was broken, cracked inside into a hundred thousand tiny pieces. Pruit gently slipped it into the reader, but the device could make no sense of it. She removed it and turned it around in her hands. With slight pressure from her fingers, part of it broke off, disintegrating into grainy dust.
“Odd. It’s been ruined somehow.” Eddie looked for more around the tanks and in the corners of the room, but that seemed to be the only one.
Pruit continued her examination of the healthy crystals. It took several hours to scan all of them and wade through every paper manual, and Pruit was entirely disappointed. Not one made mention of the Eschless Funnel. Not one.
They ate dinner outside, up on top of the closest ridge, watching the sun set. There were high, sparse clouds over the desert that day, lit in brilliant red and purple by the setting sun. The sand was darkening to brown, and the view was beautiful.
“Do you know what the survey team did here?” Eddie asked. “Did they interact with the Egyptians?”
“They were supposed to study Earth objectively. But they must have interacted. They built the Great Pyramid. It was the beacon to call us to their resting place. They were responsible for the crystals you found and for who knows how many other parts of ancient Egypt. But I don’t know any specifics of their interaction.”
He had already guessed as much about the pyramid, but it gave him the greatest satisfaction to hear her say it. After all the opposing theories about its purpose and origin, the pyramid could now occupy a position of some certainty in his mind.
“But why are you and I both human?” he asked. “If that was the first contact between our worlds, why are we the same?”
“Answering that question was one of the reasons for their trip here. We still don’t know why. But our current theory is that civilizations come in long cycles. We think there were dozens of earlier incarnations of our own world, and in one of them, perhaps, we colonized your world, or you colonized ours. Or some other civilization brought humans to both. Anything is possible.”
As they watched, the sun slipped below the horizon. There were already stars visible in the east.
“How far away is home?” he asked her.
“Eight light-years, give or take.” Even though she had traveled it, this distance seemed unreal to her. It was only a number.
“How long did it take you?” For Eddie, travel measured in light-years was beyond the scope of anything but science fiction.
She leaned back onto the rock beneath her and looked up at the sky. “Eighteen years.”
“God,” he said quietly, not knowing how else to respond. “But your age…”
“Sleep cribs, like the ones in the cave. Different technology, but with the same purpose. I was only awake for a few days each year.”
“Is it so important for you to find this?”
She turned so her elbow was resting on the ground and her head was in her hand, facing him. “Yes, it is. There are only a few livable locations on our planet. We have no unpolluted bodies of water. And there are…other complications.” Still, she did not want to explain about the Lucien or the deadline that was hanging over her people. For once, she was enjoying the landscape of this world, felt almost comfortable outside. She did not want to ruin the moment with her own anger. “We need a way to build fast ships and fast weapons, and perhaps even a way to bring a large portion of our population off Herrod. The Eschless Funnel would make it possible.”
“And why you?”
“Why not?” she asked. “It would be someone. Why not me? There might be other missions following mine. There was talk before I left of at least one mission to come later. But resources are scarce, and I must assume that I’m the only one. It was an honor to accept this assignment. It means my peers thought me one of the best.”
“But your family.”
“I miss them, of course.” She said it quickly, as though she hoped to avoid the emotional impact of her words by not hesitating. “But I hope to see them again. And when I return, it will make all the difference to their lives.” She wondered for the thousandth time what her parents thought had happened to her. Am I dead to them? She paused, not entirely successful in eluding emotion. “I trained for this mission a long time, Eddie. I knew what it would be like before I left.”
“I’m sorry.” He could think of no other response.
“There will be other lifetimes,” she said quietly, knowing that there would not be other lifetimes on Herrod unless she was successful. She settled onto her back and looked up at the sky again. “Happier ones, I hope.”
“Is that what you believe? That you’ll live again?”
“Of course.”
When Eddie did not respond, she turned to face him again. “You don’t believe in your own immortality? I thought all civilized peoples would understand that.”
“I want to believe in it.”
“Then believe.” Slowly, she reached over and took his hand in her own. She shook it as though it were an inanimate object. “This isn’t all there is to you.”
He smiled.
“Think of how lucky we are. We can experience art and love and beauty. We are infinite, just as those things are infinite.”
“Infinite…” he repeated softly, looking up at the stars.
“Why can we persevere even when life is painful?” she asked, her voice dropping because her words had become more personal. “Because we are greater than obstacles or pain. The world around us may exist. But we live. We are.”
The last word fell between them and left them quiet. Eddie was watching the deep blue of the sky, moved by what she said. But Pruit found that she had become sad. She was reminded of the reasons her life was painful, and in particular of Niks, who still existed somewhere, she knew, but no longer with her. He had gone ahead into his own future, leaving her alone in the present.
“You are,” Eddie said quietly, after a few moments, echoing her words.
“We’re not so very different, Eddie,” she whispered. She felt sadness for Niks rising within her, mixed with the grief she bore for her family and her entire race, and she knew if she continued sitting there, it would engulf her. She sat up and ran her hands through her hair.
Eddie studied her. At a cursory glance, she was just a girl with an interesting face, of average height, with nothing much else about her to classify her as unusual. But she had willingly given up everything she knew and loved to be here.
“We are different,” he said.
She didn’t answer. She was losing the battle to retain her composure and knew her voice would break if she spoke.
“I can see the way you look at me,” he continued, aware that something in her tone had changed but not aware of the depth of the change. “I’m a frivolous man in a world where it’s all right to be frivolous. You think I’ve never known hardship. You think I’m lazy.” He paused and smiled, for he was also describing how he thought of himself. “And you’re right. I am.” He laughed. “My father’s been telling me that for years. But somehow it matters more to me now. I’d like to be…useful to you.”
She was looking away from him to hide the twitching at the edge of her mouth and the tightness around her eyes. After a few seconds, she managed to fight down the sorrow, at least for the moment. She had heard Eddie and appreciated his words. After a long pause, she said quietly, with a hint of humor in her voice, “Thank you, Eddie. I didn’t think ‘frivolous.
’ But ‘lazy’ did enter my mind.”
Eddie laughed. Pruit did not, though she managed a smile. It was not a happy expression, however, merely an indication that she was glad of Eddie’s companionship. Eddie had not yet seen her happy.
When the smile faded, Pruit could feel sadness returning. She got to her feet. “I think I’d like to walk a little bit alone.”
Eddie looked up at her, but her face was turned away. “All right,” he said.
She walked off, moving along the top of the ridge, leaving Eddie sitting by himself. He leaned back and looked up at the stars, hoping that she was right, hoping that there was more to him than a hand, or an arm, or any part of his physical body. Hoping that he was infinite.
Pruit was reaching into the crib. She could feel Niks, she was grabbing his shoulder. She could see him through the biofluid, though it was hard to make out his face. She was trying to hold him, but he was slipping away from her. The crib was far too deep. It seemed to go on forever below her, miles of biofluid, stretching down into blackness. She had to pull him out, had to get a hold on his body, drag him up into the air, drag him into safety.
She felt his arms moving, struggling. He was trying to grasp her, but as they touched, he was already sliding and falling. She was holding his arm, trying to grip it harder, but she could not hold him.
“Niks, hold on!” she yelled. “Grab my hand!”
She felt his elbow, his wrist, his hand, and then his fingertips. They touched her, and then they were gone, and she could see him sinking in the biofluid, being drawn away. He was still struggling.
“Niks!” she yelled. “Niks!”
“Pruit…” He was calling her name, but his voice was wrong.
“Niks!”
“Pruit! Pruit!”
Pruit woke and found herself in darkness. She discovered that she was sobbing, her body weak and spent. She tried to orient herself. She was in the tunnel. She remembered that. Someone was holding her, someone had hands on her shoulders.
“Pruit.” It was Eddie. She remembered now that Eddie was with her.
Eddie reached into his pack and turned on a small camping light. It looked as though he had been asleep, and she realized that she too had been sleeping.
Pruit got a hold of herself. It had been a dream.
“You were yelling,” Eddie said gently. In the light, he could see her face, red from tears and exhausted.
“I’m sorry.” She said it in Soulene, and Eddie stared at her blankly. “I’m sorry,” she said again, switching, with effort, to English. “I was…dreaming.”
She had herself under control now. It was a relief to be awake.
Eddie slowly released her shoulders. “Not a very good one?”
She shook her head no and buried her face between her knees, which were now drawn up to her chest. “No.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She did not want to talk about it, but she felt herself running from the dream and did not like that, either. Grief would not decide for her what she would or would not say. “Niks…” She said the name quietly, and he could see how much it cost her. “Niks was someone I…lost along the way.” A new tear rolled down her cheek. “My partner,” she whispered.
The word “partner” carried such weight that Eddie could guess at their relationship. It was obvious she did not want to say anymore, and he had no desire to push her. “I’m very sorry.”
Pruit nodded and took a deep breath. “Yes, me too.” She pulled her sleeping bag up around her legs. Eddie saw a hollowness in her eyes as she looked down the tunnel. “It doesn’t matter,” she said at last.
“It does matter,” he whispered.
Pruit looked at him. “It does matter,” she agreed. “But it doesn’t change why I’m here. It doesn’t…it doesn’t change the Lucien or the bombs or the deadline, or the future of my people.” Her voice was breaking again.
“What are you talking about?” He asked it softly, not sure he was ready for her answer. But her answer came, pouring out of her in a rush, borne on tears that she had never let to the surface until now. She told him of the Lucien and their history with the Kinley. Of the spies and the meteors and the plan to wipe Herrod clean. She told him about the poem in the crystal around her neck, and she told him the Lucien would never win, could never win. She would never let them win.
He was helpless against the avalanche, could do nothing but listen and try to understand the magnitude of what she lived with every day. After long minutes, the tide gradually subsided, and she was left wordless, gasping through the tears.
Gently, he put his arms around her and hugged her. He did not dare say anything. What could he say? Slowly, she began to calm. Her breathing became less ragged. Her muscles relaxed somewhat in his arms, and her chest stopped shaking with grief.
Eddie helped her back into her sleeping bag, pulling it up around her. He slipped into his own bag and put his arm around her again, holding her body to his, his chest on her back.
After a few moments, he felt her take a deep breath, and then her breathing became almost normal again, slow and deep. She took his hand in one of her own and held him to her.
“Thank you for being here with me,” she whispered.
“You’re welcome.”
Then, safe in the warmth of that friendly embrace, the dream of Niks and the horror of the future faded for a moment and she drifted back to sleep.
CHAPTER 33
Adaiz-Ari’s eyes were closed. He was standing on both feet, balanced on his toes, and his arms were held in front of him. Between his human hands was his dirk, a short, straight dagger, still in its sheath. He could not see the knife with his eyes, but he could feel it, its weight, its position, the curves of its handle.
Facing him was Enon, also with eyes closed, also leaning forward to balance on his front toes, both knees of each leg held slightly bent.
They breathed in unison, a short inhale, a long exhale, each feeling the muscles of his body, each slowly gaining awareness.
This was the egani-tah, a form of Opening, an ancient pre-battle ceremony that had been handed down since generations, long before the Plague. The two participants in an egani-tah first became aware of themselves, then aware of their surroundings, then aware of each other; then they confronted each other in a rite of battle.
Adaiz could now feel every muscle. He could feel the blood begin to flow more freely, could feel his heart beating slowly and deeply. He continued the ceremonial breathing, short in, long out. Still holding his position with eyes closed, he moved his awareness to the room. He was now using the fundamental part of himself, the immortal spirit which was him, shorn of all physical trappings. The Lord Omani described the spirit as “that which is”; all else might pass, but the spirit remained.
Adaiz could feel the rug beneath his body, every piece of furniture in this open hotel room, could feel the heat outside, trying to get in through the closed windows and thick curtains. When he had encompassed the whole room within himself, Adaiz let his attention turn to his partner.
There. There was Enon-Amet. He saw his body, silver skin, long legs held perfectly still, eyes closed. Adaiz moved his awareness beyond the physical. He saw Enon-Amet himself, the spirit, and at that precise moment, Enon reached out and found the spirit of Adaiz.
Their awarenesses met and became joined to each other in the common purpose of the egani-tah. Together, they opened their eyes.
They were looking at each other across the room, holding their positions, holding their knives. Each kept his mind empty of thoughts. Together, they were aware only of themselves and of their surroundings. They drew in the final breath of the first position, then released it from their lungs slowly.
Then they pounced. Adaiz leapt forward, his hands gripping the dirk and whipping it from its sheath. Enon leapt at him in precise unison, each acting with full knowledge of the other. Enon’s own dirk was unsheathed in his hand. They closed the distance between them and landed facing ea
ch other. Adaiz struck out at Enon with his right hand. Enon-Amet neatly parried the thrust, then returned it and was blocked swiftly and perfectly by Adaiz. Their motions were not choreographed, but they were delivered with full knowledge of both participants. Their minds held each other, and the instincts of the fight passed freely in between. Thus, each was safe from the other’s blows as long as their connection remained perfect. High masters of the egani-tah could perform the ritual fight for hours, each partner working in precise harmony to parry and thrust at the other. Such masters could also, at certain times, achieve the egani-tah in real battles, encompassing their opponent and taking control of the fight.
Enon and Adaiz circled each other, holding their knives ready. Enon passed his knife to his right hand and stabbed forward in a fluid motion, aiming for Adaiz’s stomach. Adaiz jumped back gracefully, turned, and brought his knife down in an arc toward his brother’s neck. Enon brought his left arm up and blocked the motion.
We are perfect, Adaiz and Enon thought together. It was the first discreet thought they had shared. Until those words ran through their minds, there had been nothing but sense of motion and the half-conscious knowledge of the fight.
This is the beginning of the end, they thought, and neither knew with which the thought originated. We are thinking now, instead of being. But thinking is unavoidable.
Adaiz struck out with his leg, and Enon skipped aside. Their motions were still coordinated, but there was already something less graceful in the ceremony.
Are we losing each other? they thought. And then the thoughts came in a rush, issuing from each of them and both of them, things they had never spoken aloud, things they had hoped were deeply buried. We may be losing each other. We are not one. We are different. We are here on this strange world, and this has shown us our differences. We are still Lucien. We are brothers…