Disclaimer: Earth 2 and all related characters belong to the Amblin Entertainment. No copyright infringement intended, and there's definitely no money being made. It would be extremely rude (and unprofitable) to sue me.
Author's Note: Okay, I should warn you that this chapter was the least completed piece of the story, and it has been revised over and over again. I put scenes in, then I take them out, then I maybe put some of them back in again. There has to be a happy medium between too much and too little – don't know if I've found it or not, but hopefully the chapter pulls together properly.
Thanks again, Kiss316, TesubCalle, MiladyDragon, and Stormm!
Chapter 5
His dreams were jumbled, chaotic. Alien voices, speaking in whispers, speaking so softly that the words were a distant chatter he could not make sense of. He could scarce hear them over the deafening roar of the Roanoke's engines and the endless wail of the alarms. His ship was dying, was falling from the sky. Everyone else had fled, all the lifepods gone, all fallen safely down to the planet's surface. Alonzo was alone here, chasing those whispers, following the voices through the empty corridors.
"Where are you? Come out! We have to leave, before it's too late!" he shouted, frantically trying to coax the unseen speakers out from hiding, wherever they were. The temperature was rising rapidly; already, great clouds of steam had begun to obscure his vision as his ship began to vent the overheated air from its systems. He stumbled through the hallways, dragging a wounded leg behind him. "Where are you?" he called, beseechingly. "What do you want me to do? We have to go..."
But he couldn't leave... could he? The lifepods were gone. And even if he had wings... this was where he belonged. This was his place. His ship. His responsibility. His identity. Without it, what would he be?
Stumbling into an elevator, he punched in the commands to take him to the flight deck. That was his place – it was important for him to be there. The elevator trembled and shook, forcing him to cling to the walls to hold himself upright. The steel-plated skin was feverishly hot beneath his hands. His poor ship – she was dying – and he knew his whole world would end with her...
Lurching to a stop, the elevator doors opened, tossing him out onto the flight deck. Voices swirled behind him. He spun around, but there was no one. The flight deck was empty. He was alone. But the voices droned on and on – a maddening susurration without an answer. "I can't hear you... can't find you!" He could scarcely hear his own voice. Beneath the halo of white-hot fire now spilling over the viewscreen, he could see the planet's surface speeding fatally up toward his ship. "It's too late...!"
/ It's not too late. /
The flight deck was abandoned, except for him, all the machinery sparking and flickering into darkness as its circuitry cracked and fried in the intense heat. And still the Roanoke's engines thundered endlessly on, as if they would never cease. "I'm sorry... I can't..." His voice broke. "I don't know what to do..."
The light from the viewscreen was close to blinding him; in a few moments, he knew it would burn him to ashes.
He turned away from the blazing light, and a Terrian was standing next to him, as impassive and immobile as stone, only the piercing glitter of its eyes betraying any life. Alonzo gaped at the Terrian, its appearance there on the Roanoke too discrepant for him to ignore. "What are you doing here?" And behind the Terrian, another figure stood calm and serene, half-hidden in the gusting steam and chaos erupting all around. A sputtering pause as he recognized the slim figure in the background. "...Devon? Is that you...? How—"
"You've forgotten what's important, Alonzo." Her voice was clear as a bell, easily singing through the cacophony as the ship shrieked and tore itself to pieces as it burned through the atmosphere. "I came here, not just for Uly, but for all the children."
He took a step toward her, but the Terrian was in front of him, blocking his path.
"Do what needs to be done," Devon said. "The rest will take care of itself."
The Terrian pressed its staff into his hands. Alonzo had used a Terrian staff once before on the dream plane; now, it felt almost familiar in his grip. Leaning forward, the Terrian placed a heavy palm over his eyes, shutting out the burning glare, and everything grew impossibly dark.
/ Wake. /
Startled into consciousness, Alonzo pulled himself off the ground, his eyes opening to an inky blackness. His mind lurched in numb confusion – What? Where? – and his head ached ferociously.
The roaring noise from his dream continued on and on. Disoriented, he turned his head back and forth, trying to see something... anything. A wan edge of moonlight illuminated the uneven ground just in front of him, although the moons themselves were not visible from where he was sitting. As his eyes tried to adjust to the darkness, he realized he was just within the mouth of a rocky cavern.
Not like a cave – not a safe, secure burrow that humans might choose to take shelter in – but a nearly vertical flaw in the stone, a narrow wandering fissure that cut through the edge of the mountainside with the jagged unpredictability of lightning. This was the heart, he realized; the beating heart of their home, midway between earth and sky. The natural cavern lifted high above his head like a vaulting antechamber, with precarious ridges and openings into winding tunnels that lifted into other caverns, deeper caverns, hidden from his eyes. There, in those places, the Terrians had once lived. Now emptied of their kind, but there, the young wings were still born. His mind latched onto the thought in confusion – still born, or stillborn?
In the darkness that was too intense for his eyes, he sensed, rather than knew, the terrain beneath his feet was equally treacherous. A misstep would send him tumbling down the steep slope of the crevice, where he would break, wingless, upon the rocks below.
He did not belong here. Was not meant to be here. Was not wanted here.
Alonzo shook his head, trying to clear it.
Outside the narrow opening just in front of him, he could see a thin filming sheet of rain. Endless, drifting rain that left the stone beneath him slick with moisture and his clothing drenched through with water. With a shiver, he climbed awkwardly to his feet and took a tentative step forward, almost stepping out into empty air.
Alarmed and reeling backwards, Alonzo clutched at the rock wall next to him, pulse racing as he stared into the yawning chasm little more than a single step away. A faint remembrance of flying twitched through his mind – no, not flying, but falling. That memory rolled sickeningly through him. He had a very brief recollection of something catching an ankle, stopping his fall with a bone-jarring wrench that had snapped the air from his lungs, toppled him into unconsciousness. One of the winged Terrians must have saved him. It had still been daylight, then, though... and now it was full night.
And Morgan... Morgan must still be up there, was alone up there with that thing, that robot—
Gripping the stone wall tightly, he leaned more cautiously out the opening, craning his head upwards. The shadowy jutting peaks of stone lifting around him all looked the same, no matter which way he turned. He had no idea where Morgan was, did not even know where he was. Beneath him was a dark well of emptiness, water raining into his face as he tried to see.
The waterfall, he realized, finally pairing the continual roaring sound with the cold mist filling the air. It was nearby – though he couldn't place its position, he knew he must still be on the same mountain range. That steady, poisonous trickle of coolant spilling from the data collector met up with the waterfall to collect in the lake below. So it had to be located somewhere above. Not far away at all. Not if he'd had wings...
An indistinct rustle that was not the wind came from behind him, the sound tingling upon his skin, and he realized that he was no longer alone... if he ever had been. He turned, easing safely away from the perilous drop just outside the entrance, and some part of him was horribly unsurprised to find the winged Terrians now gathering close behind him.
In the darkness, their wing-shrouded shapes were nebulous shadows, and he could not be certain how many of them were assembled there, clinging to walls and floor and ceiling, but in that thicket of movement, he could feel the dim glimmering of many eyes fixed upon him.
"What do you want?" There was an audible tremor in his voice, but he might as well have been asking questions of the wind for all the good it did him. A muted shuffle moved through the winged beings as he spoke; they listened to the noises he made without any comprehension of what his words meant.
Alonzo shut his eyes tightly. He knew what they wanted. Since he'd begun to remember, he hadn't forgotten for an instant, hadn't been able to stop hearing the voices they'd buried in his mind, the endless pleas for help. He was a promise that the Terrians had made, and he would not be relinquished until all promises were fulfilled.
"I don't know what to do," he whispered, then stopped, having the feeling he'd only just spoken those words a moment ago. And in response, the insistent answer came: "Do what needs to be done."
His dream. Alonzo's eyes flicked open as the details of it abruptly returned to his waking mind. Devon. Devon had been in it... and the Terrians. But it had an undercurrent unlike his other Terrian dreams – perhaps due to the influence of these creatures, which he was beginning to realize ran much deeper than he had previously thought: memories, images, emotions that were not his own, that were wholly alien, were bubbling up from his subconscious mind with an alarming intensity, and he could not seem to resist acting upon them. But the end of his dream, at least, had held the familiar weight of a Terrian message. In the dream, the Terrian had given him a staff to use.
On the ledge, hadn't Morgan said something...? "I suppose I'm supposed to be grateful that your Terrian buddies left us a walking stick." Perhaps, then, the Terrians had left him a staff; Alonzo hadn't noticed it, and for some reason, Morgan hadn't pointed it out, but he'd known it was there.
That shouldn't have come as a surprise – Morgan had been afraid, both of him and the Terrians – of course he wouldn't have handed it over to Alonzo... not while his misgivings had been running so deep.
Alonzo needed that staff.
Before he'd even had a chance to consider how to explain that, how to ask for their help, one of the winged creatures dropped from above, alighting almost on top of Alonzo. He took a hasty step backward, but its wings snapped tight around him, gripping him in a choking embrace, and an all-consuming flare of rage and grief boiled through that suffocating touch wherever it came into contact with exposed skin: / weak / fail / fragile / not what was promised / you fell, you failed / ugly, stunted, wingless / you have not listened /
A maelstrom of fire, misery and fury, cycling over and over so forcefully that Alonzo couldn't move, couldn't form a coherent thought in response, couldn't even begin to think of a way to defend himself against the barrage.
/ you will listen / will hear / will do / no hiding /
A clawed limb raking down his arm, tearing away the sleeve of his jacket and capturing his bared arm like a shout.
/ the children die / if we die, you die with us / you die with us /
Very distantly, he was aware of the other forms moving to intercede, their long angular forms pressing near— / STOP /
That command was laced with a searing censure that even he could almost feel. The winged creature reluctantly let him loose, and with the physical contact broken, Alonzo tumbled down to the ground, his limbs shaking and his breath coming in laboured gasps.
All around him, the winged Terrians hissed, batting and ruffling their wings one against the other, as two manifestly opposing viewpoints began visibly contesting each other. But when the sound and motion eventually subsided, they fell back to regarding him in a unified silent scrutiny.
"I'm sorry," Alonzo gritted through a clenched throat, leaning heavily against the cavern wall as he tried to pull himself back to his feet. To their ears, his words were nothing but unintelligible chatter, but it was all he could bring himself to offer at the moment. Remnants of the winged creature's accusations still crawled discordantly through his mind – you die with us – and he had no desire to attempt to communicate that way again. "I tried... We had no weapons, nothing to use against it. And Morgan—" He stopped, abruptly realizing he didn't even know if Morgan was still alive. What would that robot do to him?
In answer, a graphic memory that was not his flared through Alonzo's mind. Fighting down a wave of nausea, he tried to push his mind away from the images, tried not to think about how the machine processed its 'samples'.
"I need to go back," he insisted, desperate.
There was a whisper of movement beside him, and he turned to see the statuesque gray-winged being that had 'spoken' to him on the cliffside waiting expectantly. When Alonzo made no move, the winged Terrian advanced upon him. He cringed away from the whisper-light touch, but the contact was brief and restrained – not at all like the outpouring of grief and anger from the other creature, but a leisurely, cautious flow of thoughts, as if it feared overpowering him: / wish no harm / Terrian-dreamer you / our dreaming / touch-thought / dream to us / take heed /
Even that light touch, laced as it was with apology and regret, brought a feverish shuddering to his limbs. A detached corner of his mind knew that prolonged contact would not be good for him, that he should communicate as quickly as possible and break contact.
Trying not to hear the distracting pressure of its thoughts crowding in on his own, Alonzo focused his mind on the ledge where he and Morgan had first been taken and the image of a Terrian staff. I need that.
/ yes / we can do / The black eyes peered into him; the wingtip still hovered uncomfortably near, tracing along the edge of his arm. / first / must know / you must know / us our / deep memory-first memory / must remember / you know / then and now / knowing / fight with us / must be with us / must be us /
"I don't..." He shook his head. "No. I can't make sense of it; I don't understand—"
The long tapering wingtip tightened like a vise around his wrist, and a sudden, concentrated burst of information burned into him with an almost incomprehensible intensity. The contact was mercifully brief; the creature withdrew. Alonzo reeled dizzily and crumpled backwards as his legs gave way beneath him.
There. Danziger surveyed his handiwork with a critical eye. Though he wouldn't call it 'as good as new' – at least not until he found a spare parts depot where he could get some decent replacement parts – the Dune Rail was now back in good working order. As good as it was going to get, anyway, under the circumstances. It was a tough little vehicle, and less finicky than the Rover. Barring any further close encounters with rocks, trees or Terrians – or whatever it was that had happened this time – Danziger had high hopes that the vehicle would keep running all the way to New Pacifica.
And it had only taken him half the night to repair it, he thought dryly, glancing up at the sky. Maybe another two hours before daybreak. What to do next?
Danziger wondered if any progress had been made in deciphering the unknown transmission they'd picked up earlier in the night – that strange occurrence seemed to be the one concrete lead they had so far. Mazatl had offered to cover Baines' guard duty so that the other man could help Yale with the task, and the two of them had been working at it for several hours now.
Deciding to check in on them, Danziger noted that quite a few people were also up and about. Walman was sorting through and sealing up the equipment boxes, and on the other edge of the camp, Cameron and Denner were efficiently dismantling and packing up one of the unoccupied tents. Julia hadn't stopped working, was still hunched over her diaglove, making notations in her journals.
He paused just outside the tent that served as the communications centre. Baines was in his element, discussing the ins and outs of the comm system, and bouncing ideas off Yale.
Despite his curiosity, Danziger listened with only half an ear, his attention caught by a still figure standing outside. Bess stood alone and motionless next to the TransRover, staring fixedly up at the dark canyon walls that loomed all around the camp.
"Bess? You okay?" he asked, coming to stand next to her.
"I couldn't sleep, so I thought I might as well be working. Walman and I were loading some of the equipment—" she gestured towards the cargo rack next to her "—but he's gone to see if there's anything else ready to go..." Her voice trailed off, and she turned a tentative gaze toward him. "Danziger... I want to apologize for the way I behaved earlier—"
"Nothing to apologize for, Bess. You're worried about Morgan; I understand that."
"He's... well, I suppose you've already noticed he isn't very good on his own. He needs someone to look after him. To keep him out of trouble. When he's not around, I... I just worry about him."
"Well, Morgan is... he's a pretty resourceful guy," he hedged, trying to be encouraging without spouting any out-and-out lies, "and he's got a... a strong instinct for self-preservation. I'm sure he'll be fine, Bess. He knows how to take care of himself."
Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, her hands drawn protectively up into the sleeves of her jacket. "I wouldn't have expected the weather to be so cool here. They must be cold right now."
"They'd have taken shelter for the night." The words were spoken with a certainty he didn't quite feel.
"I keep thinking of the spring," Bess said in a pensive murmur. "When I carried it within me – it was like a flame, just burning with life and energy. I felt so alive, so powerful, so warm. Sometimes I think I can still feel a spark of it inside me. Do you ever feel it, Danziger?"
"I... I'm not sure." What he remembered most vividly was the horrendous burning in his lungs and his throat and his stomach as the medicine Julia had given him had gradually killed the alien spores. Definitely not a pleasant memory, and he certainly didn't ponder the incident with the kind of wistfulness that Bess had in her voice. "I don't think so. But maybe that's because Julia pulled most of it out of my system before it got that strong."
"I shared it with Morgan," she said softly, lost in thought. "Not long, just for a little while, but I just hope... I hope that he can still feel it, too. So that, wherever he is now, he doesn't feel lost, or cold, or alone."
He didn't know what to say, but suspected that no matter what the circumstances, Morgan would always feel lost and cold and alone without Bess at his side.
"We'll find them, Bess. I promise."
He was trying to be reassuring, but she shook her head slowly. "You can't make promises like that," she said, her voice strained. "You can't promise something that you have no control over."
"I didn't—" And he bit the words back before they could be spoken: I didn't promise that they'd be all right; just that I would find them. He shied away from that thought, wasn't sure if the group could withstand any more losses. "What do you want me to say, Bess?"
"I don't know," she murmured in a subdued voice. "I'm sorry. I just... I just want Morgan back. It's all I can think about, and it's twisting me into something awful." She frowned unhappily. "The way I spoke to Julia earlier... I feel terrible about it."
"I'm sure she knows that."
"No," Bess countered, shaking her head slowly, "I don't know if she does. I think she's lost some of her confidence, her certainty. I think we all have. Ever since Eben died, ever since... since we had to leave Devon behind."
Danziger swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat, momentarily at a loss for words. "We'll come back for her, Bess, as soon as we find a cure; we haven't left her behind. Not really. We just... did what we had to, to save Devon's life."
"I know. But knowing that doesn't make it much easier, does it?"
"No," he admitted slowly, "I guess it doesn't." And even though it was often on his mind, it had been something he seldom spoke of. "Every day we travel onward to New Pacifica – and I know it's what she wanted us to do – but every day that we travel, I keep looking over my shoulder, looking behind us. Trying to memorize the way back there. Because New Pacifica is her dream – always was. She should be there with us."
"She will be. Eventually." The hint of a smile pulled at the corner of her lips – Bess seemed to know what he was thinking, to see what he was trying to hide. "It's all right," she said understandingly. "She'd be proud of you, of what you've managed to get done."
He restrained the comment that was on his lips – because what, really, had he managed? What had he done that Devon would not have done better and faster? He'd done what he could, but too often he had the nagging feeling that it just wasn't enough. And it was more than just guilt at leaving Devon behind; her absence gnawed at him more deeply than he'd ever expected it could.
Danziger made an awkward attempt to change the subject, "Well, we definitely have a lot to get done today. Bess, I'd like you to—"
"I'm going to be in one of the search parties." Her smile had evaporated and her eyes were resolute. "That's not even an issue. Just so you know. I'm not staying behind this time. Morgan's my husband, and I'm coming with you."
"No one's trying to keep you out," he replied. "Actually, I thought you'd probably feel that way, and Yale and I already agreed to include you in one of the teams. And, speaking of Yale," he realized, "I wanted to check in on him, see if he'd found anything. You'll be okay?"
"I'm fine," she said. "Don't worry – I won't go running off on my own. I'm just... impatient for morning. But it'll come. It always does," she said, a mixture of hope and determination. She was stronger than she looked. "And Danziger... thank you."
"Believe it or not," Baines remarked as soon as Danziger stepped into the tent, "I think we might finally have something."
"As long as 'something' is better than 'nothing'," Danziger retorted. "What did you find?" He fervently hoped it was good news; they were past due for some positive developments.
"Well, we've tracked down two different comm lines going back and forth – the first 'blip' that Magus and I both saw, and then the one I tapped into. First one is nothing special, just a bit of technical info on a thin data stream. Still weird, but it was the next transmission that fried my gearset. Yale was able to retrieve a fragment of it from the gear – it's an old-style encrypted signal, and from the way it was set up, he thought it was being sent to some kind of computer system."
Danziger mulled over that information. "What makes him say that?"
"When he snaps out of his research mode, you can ask him yourself if you want the specifics," Baines replied, nodding over at the cyborg who continued to murmur under his breath, a dazed, glassy-eyed expression on his face. Danziger watched the flickers of information playing above his cybernetic hand, the images sputtering by too rapidly for him to make sense of. "But he did say that the transmission had embedded command codes as well as an audio message. He's in the middle of trying to interpret it, so we're still not sure exactly what the transmission was supposed to do."
"How long will that take?" Danziger asked. At this point, it was all coming down to hours and minutes and seconds. By sunrise or shortly thereafter, they'd be moving out, and, by that point, he hoped to hell they'd know what they were doing and where they were going. "You think he can do it?"
"I don't doubt Yale's abilities, but..." After a moment, Baines shook his head. "I really don't think he's got enough to work with. It was just a fragment."
"Okay, so if he can't make sense of the code, then what's next?"
After a moment's contemplation, Baines said, "I might be able to temporarily amp up the comm systems on the Rover. Maybe enough that we can intercept, or at least tap into, the signal. If there's anything still being sent, that is."
"We can do that? Why haven't we done that before?"
Baines shrugged. "Takes a lot of power and there's no one out there that we wanted to talk to. Not until Roanoke-Colony arrives, anyway."
No one out there... except... "Reilly," Danziger realized with a start. Whom they most definitely had not wanted to talk to.
Baines stared at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Yeah... yeah, you're probably right. Crap," he muttered, scratching at the back of his neck as if he could feel the embedded biochip acting up already. "I hate that damn computer."
"You and me both," Danziger growled. "Have you been able to pinpoint the signal's origin, find out where the transmission is coming from?"
"Not both of them," Baines replied, seeming mildly chagrined by that. "Although, if the one is Reilly, that's not surprising. That station has got to be in the upper orbit, and even the TransRover's comm systems aren't anywhere near powerful enough to have that kind of range. We'd need the communication dish to pull off a stunt like that. But I was able to find the other transmission point." Double-checking the coordinates on his scanner, he stepped outside the tent and pointed up. "There."
"There!" Danziger goggled in dismay at the high, sprawling peak. "You do mean that one, don't you? The biggest, steepest—"
"That's the one."
"Figures." With a resigned sigh, Danziger picked up the jumpers to take a closer look. Hard to see, even with the night filter. He squinted, not at all surprised to catch sight of the winged silhouettes frothing about the summit. "Yale said he thought there's a machine up there?"
"It fits. Something's gotta be receiving the transmissions," Baines said matter-of-factly. "But Yale seemed pretty sure that the coding was meant for some kind of computerized station, and not a personal receiver like a Zed might be carrying."
Well, that was a relief.
Danziger's mind flickered back to a conversation that had almost faded from his mind during the search for the two missing men – Julia warning of contaminants in the water, the possibility of another ship in the area. He'd thought of it since then only in the context of Uly's illness, but now he frowned, abruptly considering other possibilities. "What do you think it is?"
"Hard to say. If the Council were planning to move in here ahead of everyone else, it'd make sense to have some hardware in place. I don't pretend to know how the Council works, but my guess would be some kind of automated communication relay. It would also make sense to have some way to gather information, so maybe a scientific probe. Or – who knows? – maybe it's just something to monitor the penal colonists and keep them in line."
"If it is, it didn't work very well," Danziger muttered, remembering Gaal and the shock collars that the convict had used to enslave the Terrians. And the Terrians had forced the Eden Advance group to intervene, to set them free. Something twisted uneasily in his stomach as he regarded the winged creatures congregating far above. There was an odd symmetry to the situation...
His thoughts began to race as Uly's dreaming words sprang back into his mind: Alonzo would have led us there; we were supposed to help... the wings won't listen, won't wait any more...
"That's it. That's where they are," he blurted, turning around to stare intently at the mountaintop Baines had pointed out. "Morgan and Alonzo are up there."
Overwhelmed by the strange noises clattering inside of him, Alonzo lay on his side, his eyes pressed tightly shut, trying not to hear, not to see, not to think. His mind quivered, struggling to make sense of what it had been given. But some of it was simply too much for him, too different. Acrid tastes and sharp-tinged hues and festering, primal urges that his mind could not make sense of, had to look away from, because otherwise it would eventually drive him mad.
But he knew things now. He knew things he should not have known, could not have known. He knew why the Terrians did not come here, did not come to this land, and he knew they had not since the 'death' had fallen out of the sky to land among them.
That knowledge unfolded in his mind as if it were his own memory: the fallen robot had struck the winged ones out of the sky; it had bled a river of pestilence into the earth. Many of the winged ones had tried time and again to dislodge the intruder – all of them perished. And as the land died, the Terrians sickened at its touch; they departed and did not return.
But the winged ones had to return – this was where the hatching grounds were, where the new ones were born. Deep, ingrained, unchangeable instinct. And every year, their numbers dwindled. The earth wept poison, and the hatchlings were sickly and stunted; many died without ever taking wing. And of the young ones who were strong enough to take flight, there were always some who blundered too near to the alien monster, and it killed them, it shot them from the sky.
The Terrians had talents that the winged ones had given up when they had abandoned the earth in favour of the sky – the Terrians knew things that their winged cousins had forgotten. And so, the winged ones had gone to the Terrians, had begged their assistance. But the Terrians could no longer pass through the poisoned earth; they could not return. Could not or would not. There was bitterness there, a pungent bitterness in that thought.
But the Terrians had not left them with nothing: they had given them a promise. A Terrian-dreamer would come, an alien, who would be able to walk where the Terrians could not. The Terrian-dreamer would bring help to them.
And so now he knew, too, why the winged ones had been waiting for him. When he and Morgan had first peered up at the strange creatures flying so far above in the sky, and Alonzo had reached out on the dream plane – they had felt that distant ripple of dreaming, so like a Terrian voice, and they had recognized him. They had spoken to him in the only way they could. But his mind did not work as theirs did, and his conscious mind had buried their pleas, their demands, and he hadn't understood. The winged ones had watched and waited; and when he moved too slowly for them, when they had grown tired of waiting and begun to fear he would not answer in time or at all, they had simply plucked him from the earth and brought him up here.
It was their right. Time and prophecies and patience came to an end.
And now, now he must do what he was promised to do. Destroy the machine. Kill the nameless thing, the wrongness that infested their home. Give them back their skies. Kill or be killed. Promised. He knew what to do, what he... what they... He/they. They/he. Fly fly flying on wings, his wings, their wings—
No... not right...
"I know who I am," he gritted, his tongue like lead, and the words were slurring together so that, even to his own ears, they sounded vaguely like birdsong. "I know..." he insisted forlornly.
But that was not what they were asking of him, not what they cared about.
Julia stared intently at the data from her medical journals and her diaglove and tried to maintain her focus, while also attempting to ignore the fact that she couldn't think of anything that she hadn't already researched, tested and examined three times over already. She'd been chasing the same data around and around for hours now, and there was a sense of futility to it now. The data she had was not enough – she was going in circles, and getting nowhere at all.
A small sigh from Uly, and she turned quickly to regard him, but he was still soundly asleep on her cot. Not surprising; the sedative she'd given him was strong enough to keep him from waking at least until morning. But Danziger had said he'd been sleepwalking, talking about Terrians. And when Yale brought Uly here so that Julia could watch over him while he worked on the transmission they'd overheard, Yale had also recounted Uly's dreaming words. Presumably, a message from the Terrians.
Now, after having been unable to glean any further useful information from her medical scans, she had to fight the urge to go over there and shake Uly awake, demanding to know more. Logically, she knew that Uly might not even remember his dream – hadn't Danziger already told her that? And yet, she was frustrated enough that for a few moments it had almost seemed to be the sensible next step in her research.
But she'd scolded herself for that passing thought – after all, she was a doctor, and her first duty was to her patients. Julia knew she was overtired, was fully aware that her irritation came from the stress of yet another night spent sleepless and working and worrying. Nevertheless, that didn't stop the fear from curdling within her, didn't stop her anxious need to know what had happened, to find Alonzo, to get him safely back.
Shifting uncomfortably in her chair, she could no longer pretend she didn't feel the stiffness cramping through her limbs. She got to her feet, pacing a few times around the small tent, then halted briefly by the door, her attention caught by the unexpectedly large group of people by the comm centre, all of them huddled in a tight cluster, intently engaged in conversation. And not in the awkward, questioning manner of last night's discussions, but a tightly focussed exchange.
She hurried over to stand at the back of the group. "What's going on?"
"Those transmissions that came in over the gearsets," Cameron murmured, giving her a cursory glance. "Yale and Baines think it might be Reilly."
For a moment, she froze, a chill shuddering through her. Reilly. Council. Subterfuge, strategy and deception. A guilty reminder of those own ugly pieces of her past.
Somehow, she'd found Reilly's presence here less alarming when she'd believed he was exactly who he appeared to be – the human face of the Council. Right or wrong, someone who could possibly be reasoned with. Someone like her. Mortal, fallible, changeable.
But discovering he wasn't even a real person, that he was just a computer operating beneath the cover of artificial intelligence programs... in some way, that was almost more frightening. Because it was all software and mechanics – if they didn't find a way to shut him down, or alter his programming, then he would continue on, unchanging and ageless, and the thought of Reilly waiting here when the Colony ship arrived was unsettling enough. The thought of him persisting through another two or three generations and still relentlessly trying to assert the will of the Council was more than enough to give her nightmares...
"What?" was the only word she managed to ask.
"We're guessing that the signal I intercepted came from Reilly," Baines replied, "and that it was being sent to some kind of robot in the area nearby."
"Over the last fifty years or so," Yale explained to the group, "Interstellar Development launched an entire array of automated data collection and retrieval units. Their primary purpose was to collect any number of pre-colonization statistics: mining information, atmospheric conditions, habitability ratings. All relatively benign activities."
"Doesn't sound like it's got any information that Reilly wouldn't already know," Danziger commented. "Why's he interested? Are you sure that it's a data collector, and not something else?"
"The first transmission we received was a standard power-up indicator, and machine and model type information was encoded in the message. According to my records, it was also transmitting using the comm protocols available at the time those data collector units were manufactured. I found no reason to believe it is anything other than what it appears to be."
"Maybe he's just using it to spy on us," Baines suggested.
Julia interrupted. "What about the signal that Reilly sent – were you able to decode it?" Because that would probably answer a multitude of questions.
"Regrettably, no." Yale gave a weary shrug. "Our comm systems weren't set up to handle that kind of data transfer, and Baines' gearset processed only a fraction of the message before overloading. The sample I was able to retrieve from it was too small, too fragmented for proper analysis."
"Then how can we be sure it's Reilly?" Walman asked. "Or that it has anything to do with whatever happened to Alonzo and Morgan? I mean, didn't we figure that it was those flying creatures that took them?"
"Okay, so this is what we've got." Danziger ticked off the items on his fingers: "Flying Terrians who seem to want something, and regular Terrians sending vague dream-warnings about something we're supposed to be doing. Also just last night, a lot of comm traffic between what might be Reilly – or might be someone else, but is nobody we know, and therefore probably unfriendly – and a nearby data collector on that mountaintop—" He threw out an arm, pointing. "—where there's also a whole bunch of flying Terrians. And Alonzo and Morgan both gone missing in the middle of this? Call me crazy if you want, but it's all going to tie together," he insisted. "That's where we're going to find them."
"You're basing that on a hunch?"
"No, I'm basing it on a hundred-plus days of living on this planet, and I'm starting to figure out how things work around here. These aren't just random events – there's a pattern to it." Danziger glanced around, trying to persuade. "I'm telling you, it's all connected."
"Danziger's right," Bess agreed. "Morgan and Alonzo will be where those Terrians are."
"I think that the winged Terrians are definitely involved," Julia also agreed, thinking over everything she'd just heard. "But if this is Reilly we're dealing with," she said, unable to quell the little shudder of apprehension within her as she stressed the point, "then we really have to question the purpose of those comm transmissions. What if it's just... a coincidence, or a diversion? Why would we just suddenly happen to pick up what should be a secure transmission? What if he's actually trying to draw us away from them?"
That thought was enough to give everyone pause.
Danziger scowled. "Coincidence? – no. Not on this planet. Not based on anything that's happened to us over the last few months. But a diversion, especially if Reilly's involved? Yeah... it's not impossible." Despite his words, a moment later Danziger shook his head again, still unconvinced.
"I don't know. Maybe Julia's right. The first signal did come through on our gear channel," Baines admitted doubtfully. "No reason it should have – unless Reilly wanted us to hear it."
"If you're not sure, then get back on it and figure it out for sure," Danziger snapped. "We've only got another forty minutes – if that – before we're ready to move out. Like it or not, at the moment the signal coming from that mountain isn't just our best lead – it's our only lead. And unless you find something better, that's exactly where we're going be heading. So get at it."
Baines glowered at Danziger's departing back. "Didn't say I was thrilled about the idea," he muttered, as everyone else began to disperse.
"I will look into it," Yale volunteered. "You'll have to start getting the comm centre packed up and loaded onto the TransRover. I'll be able to review the file while you're taking the systems down."
Baines nodded, murmuring agreement.
Julia turned, and hastily followed after Danziger. "Danziger – wait. I'm sorry, but I had to ask. I couldn't just—"
"I'm not mad, Julia," he said gruffly, denying the pent-up tension that she could see in his stance. "Not mad at you, anyway – you brought up a valid point. It's just... I can't help thinking that we're over-thinking it. You said it yourself, it all started when we ran into those flying Terrians. And Uly's message also seemed to be about them. Reilly's just... well, I don't know how he fits in exactly." He shrugged. "Bottom line is that I'm sick and tired of waiting around trying to figure things out; I'm ready to go out there and do some damage, and if Reilly's on the receiving end, then so much the better."
"I wish it were that easy."
"You making any progress with your medical files?"
"No," she admitted glumly, a little confused by the abrupt change of subject. "I think I've found out everything I'm going to with that data. I need more information."
"In that case... Uly still sleeping?" When she nodded, he said, "I'm going to move him to the TransRover. I'll get True up and have her go sit with him, make sure he doesn't get out if he wakes up before we leave. We need to take down the med tent, get everything packed up and ready to go."
Until he'd pointed it out, Julia hadn't stopped to realize that she'd spent the entire night immersed in her research, without even beginning to pack any of her medical equipment. So much to do, and now there was so little time left...
"Don't worry," he said in response to her anxious look, clapping a hand to her shoulder. "We'll get it done. Always works out in the end, doesn't it?"
Although she knew it wasn't what he'd meant, Julia abruptly thought of O'Neill, of Eben, of Devon, and didn't say anything at all.
Uly was a bit surprised to wake up in the TransRover – it wasn't where he recalled going to sleep, although that memory was a little fuzzy too. The last thing he clearly recalled was being in the medtent with Yale and Julia, and all of his skin had been stinging and burning.
"Hey." True was sitting next to him by the passenger door, looking at him with a tentative smile.
"Hey," Uly replied, still a little mystified at why the two of them were sitting here. It wasn't even morning yet – the sky was still coloured in the gloomy shade of just before sunrise. "Um... what are we doing in here?"
"Just waiting to go," she replied, as if it were patently obvious. "The camp is already packed up, and we're leaving soon. And Julia says you have to stay in here," True announced, "and I'm supposed to watch you."
"I don't need you to watch me!" he huffed. "I can look after myself. And," he added scornfully, "I didn't want to go outside anyway."
"I'm just saying," True replied, more than a little smug. But, after a moment's pause, she asked more sincerely, "Are you feeling better today?"
"Mostly, I guess." He loosened the bandage on his hand and unwound it enough to reveal a bit of reddened skin. No blisters. "Look!" He waved his hand at her.
She grimaced. "Yuck. That looks like it still hurts."
"Not so much now. Just itches a little."
"Well, put the bandage back on. It's gross."
Uly briefly considered reaching out and touching her with his 'gross' hands, but thought better of it. True could get very shrill when she was mad, and since he knew he really wasn't supposed to leave the vehicle, that left him with no escape. Regretfully, he readjusted the bandages.
"I'm sorry I threw the sand at you yesterday." True's voice was very quiet.
Uly looked over at her, surprised. "That's okay," he decided. "You didn't know."
"I've never been allergic to anything before," True commented.
"You're lucky." Uly had spent his whole life allergic to everything, until he'd come here. Until now, G889 had been a haven for him; he felt vaguely offended that this corner of the planet was turning on him, and he understood why the Terrians had left this place. "But at least it's just this area. Once we get out of the canyons, I won't have to worry any more."
"Did the Terrians tell you that?"
Did they? He shrugged a little. It was just something he knew. "They don't talk the way you think they do," he replied.
"What, like 'orooo-woo-wooo'?" she said, scrunching up her face as she did a dreadful Terrian impression.
"They don't 'orooo-woo-wooo'!" he yelped, outraged on their behalf.
"Well, that's what they sound like," she countered defensively.
"That's cause you don't know how to listen properly!"
"Oh yeah?" She sat back and crossed her arms, regarding him seriously. "Then how do I?"
He paused. It wasn't something he often had to explain. Of course, his mother had asked similar questions, as had Yale and the doctor, many times over, but any words he ever gave them didn't seem to answer their questions. "It isn't just their voices. It's... it's like... lots of little pieces, except all together. Like you also have to listen to everything else around them."
"That doesn't make any sense at all," True said decisively.
He had to bite his tongue to keep from saying, 'What do you know? You're the one who asked – you don't know a-n-y-thing.' But that would just start yet another argument between them, and Yale had asked him to try to be nicer. And most of the time, True was okay. Annoying, but still okay.
"Where are we going?" Uly asked curiously, leaning forward to watch the adults scurrying around outside. The tents had all been dismantled, and only a few stray poles and boxes of equipments remained, waiting to be loaded onto the vehicles.
"Over there," True informed him, pointing at some indistinct place outside the window. "Over by that big mountain. That's where Morgan and Alonzo have gone, and we're going to go get them."
Uly turned to look at the mountain – right away he knew which one she was talking about. Taking in the sight of the distinctive uneven peak, Uly suppressed a shiver as he quickly looked away and crossed his fingers. He didn't know the place, had never seen it before, but could almost feel it casting a long dark shadow over the land, and somehow he knew it was bad luck.
True was glancing sideways at him, a peculiar expression on her face. "Do you think we'll find them?" she asked cautiously, as if she suspected he might have an answer to that question. "Will they be okay?"
"I don't know," he replied. It was confusing. Sometimes he felt things, and sometimes he could only guess, but this time he didn't really know... Maybe the Terrians didn't know either. "But they'll die if they stay there," he said, and that was the one thing he was certain of. "Everything does."
Usually when they departed a campsite, it wasn't quite at the level of the organized chaos it was now, but they were almost ready to go.
"Danziger!" His holographic interface abruptly disappeared, and Yale stood up, glancing in all directions, then hurrying forward when he caught sight of him. A few other people stopped what they were doing, trailed after Yale, anxious to hear whatever it was he had to say.
"What is it?" Danziger asked. "You found something?"
"Yes. The signal Baines and Magus received – remember, I told you it was a power-up indicator, an automatic function after the system resets itself; that means it would transmit only to the channels listed in its database. But we received a fragment of it before Reilly's message overrode the signal."
Danziger didn't understand why Yale seemed quite so excited by that tiny detail. "And so...?"
"I didn't notice it before – I was more intent on studying the contents of the signal – but this time I realized: the signal came through on the same channel code as the gearset that Alonzo and Morgan were using. They must have manually input that into the system," he explained, "perhaps they were attempting to use it to contact us – that's why, when the system reset itself, the signal initially came through on our gearsets."
An almost electric quiver of excitement rippled through the people crowded around. "So... Danziger's right?" Baines asked in surprise. "They are up there with that data unit?"
"Don't sound so shocked," Danziger retorted good-naturedly. "I've been right before, you know."
"According to all the available evidence," Yale replied, "yes, I believe that is where Morgan and Alonzo are – or at least, where they were."
One piece of the puzzle... Danziger struggled to put the others together. "Any idea why it's got those flying Terrians so riled up?"
"Possibly the robot's mere presence there is disrupting their habitat. In our previous dealings with the Terrians, we've found them to be quite sensitive to changes in their environment – there is no reason to believe that this species of Terrians is not equally sensitive."
"The Council was intent upon controlling the planet," Julia offered. "If Reilly is acting on their behalf, we can probably assume that he's using the equipment to subdue or eliminate any indigenous or hostile life forms."
It made sense. And if Alonzo or Morgan had been interfering with that, no doubt they'd have been classified as 'hostile', and Reilly would be only too happy to try to eliminate the two of them. As well as anyone else who came looking for them. "Can we disrupt it somehow?" Danziger asked. "Knock it offline?"
"No way," Baines replied. "Not from a distance. Best we could manage is that, once we're close enough to that mountain, we might be able to send out enough static to jam any incoming or outgoing transmissions. But I've been monitoring all the channels I can find," he added, "and I can't find any comm traffic at all. So if it is Reilly, he's not talking at all now."
"Doesn't mean he won't, especially when we start walking into his territory. If he's found a way to use that robot as an attack unit, then I want a way to shut it down fast."
"A direct hit from a MagPro is probably a better method," Baines insisted, "but if that's not an option, then a static field should buy you some time, lock him out for a few minutes. We can't maintain it for much longer than that without depleting the TransRover's power supplies. At most, you'd get five – maybe ten minutes – before we'd have to shut down and recharge."
"Better than nothing," Danziger noted. "We'll wait and see if we need it."
With a quick glance to confirm that the entire group was now assembled, Danziger called out, "Okay, everyone, we're moving out. Just in case anyone's not clear on the plan: Yale's already mapped out the fastest route, so we head there, and then break out into search parties. Walman and Cameron will be taking the ATV to scout the eastern edge. Julia and Yale are taking the DuneRail to the west, and Bess and I will be covering the middle on foot. The TransRover is going to be hanging back at a safe distance, where Baines will be working the comm and scanner systems. Baines, I want you monitoring for any further transmissions – if something comes in, let us know right away. The rest of you are on guard duty around the TransRover – keep your eyes open, and if the situation changes – if you've got any doubts at all, then back off."
"What about those flying Terrians?" Walman asked. "What do we do if they come near?"
Danziger hesitated, glancing briefly at Julia. "No shooting at all, unless you absolutely have to. I mean it," he added sternly, seeing the dubious expressions. "I don't really care for them either, but they haven't actually been openly hostile, and I get the feeling they're not the real bad guys here. And they probably outnumber us a hundred to one," he added, "so don't go picking any fights."
Walman didn't look too happy with that advice, but he nodded.
"And keep your gearsets handy, but use them sparingly – there's no telling who's listening in."
Danziger paused. Should probably think of something inspiring to say... Oh hell, who had the time for that? "Let's get going."
The air felt familiar to him now. The high cold chill of the wind in his face, the wind streaming through his hair, through half-outstretched arms. This was flying. Not the vain skill he'd once possessed – reading instrument scopes and adjusting engine output and plotting orbital trajectories – that hadn't been flight at all... it had just been something he'd done, something he was good at, back when he was—
Human?
The word leapt unexpectedly into his mind, jarred some of the complacency from him. But he did not have time to pursue the thought as Gray-wings descended precipitously, skimming suddenly close to rock walls, hovering beneath the perimeter of the summit. Alonzo seized instinctively at the clawed feet wrapped about his shoulders, his skin prickling as his fingers made contact. / fire / flame / falling / be wary / Gray-wings was fearful – too many had been shot from the sky in the past – those memories still lived vividly in their minds. And now in his.
He shuddered and let go his grip, instinctively recoiling from the memories that were at once unfamiliar and too familiar at the same time. Taking a deep breath, he pushed his mind away from those thoughts, feeling the alien images stirring uneasily within him as he did so, but they subsided. They did not disappear. He could feel them all the time now; they were spots of cold in his mind – each one buried too deep to remove, and all of his own memories and knowledges ached painfully as they were pressed aside to make room for the new. Each memory was like a spike driven into his mind, one after the other, like a row of icicles, or of teeth... And that was almost what it felt like. Like his mind was being slowly eaten away, piece by piece.
But the Terrians wouldn't let that happen to him; they couldn't... And yet there was a terrifying silence in that corner of his skull where he had once heard whispers and dreams. Perhaps the Terrians had abandoned him. Perhaps he'd already lost that part of himself that was able to dream to them, severed it somehow when the winged ones had stepped into his mind.
But he'd had a dream – only yesterday – was it only yesterday? His memory gave a disorienting lurch. Time was yet another thing that had started to slip away from him; he was beginning to lose the sense of it. But he was sure he'd had a Terrian dream. They'd spoken to him, or had tried to, through the steadily escalating static and turmoil of his mind, and their presence had been sturdy, calming. They had wanted him to use the staff they'd given him. Fulfill the promises and be free.
Gray-wings – that wasn't its true name. The winged Terrian did have a name, but it was an amalgam of exotic images and impressions that didn't have any linguistic equivalents, and Alonzo found it disconcerting to contemplate it too closely, so he'd chosen to mentally identify this Terrian by its appearance.
Gray-wings dropped down, allowing Alonzo to alight upon the same ledge where he and Morgan had found themselves yesterday... or whenever that memory had come from.
As he stepped out from beneath the elder being's grip, a hundred black-eyed gazes turned toward him, their countenances unreadable. But they rustled against each other like leaves, a quietly rippling current of movement over the rock face, one against the other, and then against him too as he tried to walk past – they stirred, tracing their wingtips against his bare arm, his neck, his face; the whisper of their voices upon his skin, a palpitating tension in his mind.
/ time / now / do / you must do / you must free us /
He could see himself – alien and strange – reflected in their own understanding. Peculiar creature. Unlike. Atypical. Like the Terrians, wingless and bound to earth; but like the winged ones, in love with the sky...
/ ours /
Alonzo flinched away from their touch, began to falter – too much, it was too much – and Gray-wings interceded once more. The others drew back, letting him pass by as he searched for what he'd dreamt of.
Catching sight of the staff wedged against the side of the cliff wall, Alonzo rushed forward and seized upon it. The touch of it was cold and soothing, but there was a vague disappointment in him as he tried to call to the Terrians and realized he couldn't quite remember how to do so.
He pressed the staff against the earth, could feel the resonating shock of connection. There was power there, an energy that could be used, that could be made a weapon, even though the tainted land felt acrid and stinging through that bond of mind-body-earth. He quickly loosened his grip as his palms began to burn, and lifted the staff away from the pained earth. No wonder the Terrians had left this place; no wonder they could not bear it...
A shadow of movement, and a wingtip pressed once more against his skin, their thoughts overwhelming his: / time / you must go / you must do / you are promised /
Obviously, there would be no respite for him until he had satisfied their demands.
Morgan woke from a dream – an awful dream of him twisting and turning in icy discomfort in his cold-sleep chamber on the Roanoke, all through a twenty-two-year restless, cold, fitful sleep that he wasn't able to awaken from – only to open his eyes to the grayish pre-dawn sky on G889. The sun had not yet risen, and all his surroundings were sheeted with shadows.
Well, that was depressing.
He felt almost more tired now than he had the night before, and that was saying something. Why couldn't he have had a nice emotionally fortifying dream, recalling something worthwhile? Like his first vacation with Bess – they'd visited Jupiter Station's prime recreation facilities: bright lights, warm water, soft beds and plenty of food. Oh, for a VR unit right now...
Wincing, he tried to straighten his leg – it was stiff and uncooperative, and the night spent out in the cold hadn't done it any good, but at least the dull ache had settled somewhat. Of course, that likely meant nerve damage or something, he thought morosely, and there was probably no way he could walk on it now.
Slowly sitting up and wondering what he was going to do next, he almost lost his balance as he suddenly whipped his head around, convinced that he'd seen some tiny movement on the periphery of his vision.
"H-hello...?"
Nothing there. No sinister bird-wings ripping through the leaden sky, no suddenly-mobile Reilly lumbering over the hill in robotic limbs. Nothing and no one. He was still alone up here.
And then glimpsed it again as he started to turn away. What was that? He could have sworn he'd just seen something moving out there, way far away in the valleys below. Something small and glittering, winking at the corner of his eyes...
This time he stayed still, hardly daring to breathe as he peered intently out into the dark landscape.
He saw it again, and only then did he realize: Lights. They were lights! Tiny little clusters of lights gleaming far below. One, two, three sets of them. The only illumination for as far as the eye could see. Steady, blue-white gleams that darted in and out of sight as the vehicles wound their way through the valleys.
It had to be the rest of the group, come looking for them. Bess would be down there.
Sudden joy burst within him, and Morgan whooped in excitement, jumping to his feet, and apparently his leg wasn't as injured as he'd thought a moment ago. He was waving and shouting and hollering as loud as his lungs were able – "Hello! Hey! I'm up here!" – but they were still far away, and he was too high above them; his words didn't even echo as he yelled, but were promptly carried away and swallowed up by the sky.
It didn't matter, though – even that couldn't blunt the elation coursing through him.
Because it was the rest of the group – they were coming to find him – and Bess was down there somewhere.
Until only a few moments ago, he'd been more and more resigned to the fact that he was going to die out here. But things never turned out the way Morgan Martin expected them to, and for once, he was glad of that.