*E*X*P*E*D*I*T*I*O*N*
The One Self had camouflaged itself well as the local landscape: it was indistinguishable from dirt and rocks, sparse algae and lichens, and skittering insects and small animals. Portions of its collective, central mass were spread out over the entire crater, even in the jagged cracks and new-formed caverns. It waited and observed as a large party of Cetra descended the cliff walls and entered its domain. Through its embedded avatars, it knew every detail about the group's mission and members.
The expeditionary group was comprised of twenty Cetra, all so extremely sensitive to the Planet that each could commune with it individually if need be. It included two healers, four experienced Planet Readers, three magic adepts, and a variety of experts in the cultivation of plants, animals, even water and soil. This group, the Council of Elders had reasoned, should have the necessary expertise to detect changes in the nature of the Lifestream and Planet where the meteorite had fallen.
One council member had also accompanied the group: Councilor Nokkenah. She had already been infected, though not yet replaced. The One Self had spent some time researching its new Cetra memories, and determined that while many people could talk with the Planet and even conduct small Planet Readings, the Cetra councilors always guided and formed the core of the largest and most important ones. It could not yet install an imitation among them for fear of discovery. Even if other Cetra noticed nothing untoward, the living Planet itself might detect the differences during their communion and warn its servants.
Infected Cetra, however, did not seem to be noticed by anyone, not even the Planet. Perhaps the Lifestream operated at too high or esoteric a level to notice such irregularities in the small life that populated the surface of its world. Illness-causing microorganisms were ubiquitous, and one more virus among the plenitude was unlikely to stand out.
Hunting had been good over the past two Planet-weeks, and none of the Cetra suspected that almost a third of their kind on the north continent had been infected, and a quarter more replaced outright.
The infected Cetra's physical bodies were saturated with specialized proteins produced by their new genes, making them malleable, their forms capable of useful mutations. Certain tissues and structural components had been altered subtly, ready to snap into new configurations on command. Ready to serve.
No species on any world ever noticed such drastic changes to their corporality until too late. That was the advantage of True Life. The alterations were slow, incremental. Lesser life always remained blind to the subtle, always oblivious to gradual remaking; this was always their disadvantage. A built-in failing that supported the natural order, a cosmic necessity. They existed only to support, provide nutrients, supply the means of growth, of progress, of reproduction. To be consumed, absorbed, and used to perpetuate the cycle of True Life, to spread its seed throughout the universe.
The expedition party contained similar proportions of infected Cetra and replicas as the rest of the population: Nine infected, including the councilor and all the magic experts. Four replaced with copies: Both healers and two cultivation experts. Only seven in the party remained untouched.
The One Self had the advantage of numbers, both locally and in the capital city; it had gained enough control over the population to begin the elimination phase. It should not wait too long. It had hidden itself well in the crater and in the Cetra collective, but eventually it would be found out. It needed to take the initiative, not wait to react. Not any longer.
The party exclaimed in alarm as they moved deeper into the crater, seeing the devastation, the founts of cascading Lifestream, the sickly green and brown smog, the stink of sulfur and the electric tingle of the wild, overflowing magic all around them. They broke up into smaller groups, specialized for examination and manipulation of different features. The cultivation experts took samples of small life, of plants and tiny creatures. They got out tools for digging and breaking, and collected rocks and dirt. Some specimens they put away for later analysis. Some communed lightly with the Planet to find places of greatest harm, and cast strange magic to scan their prizes, talking quietly among themselves and discussing their early results. The copies avoided communion, but easily fit in by performing the physical tasks.
"Anything notable, Jarilo?" Councilor Nokkenah asked the closest group, brushing a lock of brown hair away from her eyes, breathing shallowly in the polluted air.
A kneeling Cetra set down his digging tools and shook his head. Uninfected, the One Self noted, and from stolen memories it knew him to be as sensitive to the Planet, its Lifestream, its ebbs and flows, as even the highest ranked Planet Reader. Perhaps more, since he was one of those with a strong talent for magic and could direct the flow and establishment of life with ease. His specialties included making gentle rains to encourage growth of certain key vegetation, which in turn would draw in grazing animals and then predators in a perfect balance.
"You can see it for yourself." Jarilo gestured, taking in the entire landscape. "There are obvious signs of the recent trauma and the Lifestream is gushing everywhere. It's chillier than at the capital. Nothing we didn't already expect. Some pioneer species of plants and animals have moved in. Algae, lichens, insects, a few birds and small rodents. No major species yet, not that they'd move in on their own in this mess."
"Can we cultivate here? Maybe encourage faster reclamation of the land?"
The Cetra shook his head again. "Not in the crater. The Planet's too agitated. Look at all the Lifestream around here. There's so much it's even starting to erode the bedrock and carve it out. A large-scale cultivation effort would fail. But maybe we can do something for the land farther out from here."
Nokkenah nodded. "Let me know if anything useful comes to light."
"Councilor?" Jarilo said, standing up.
"Yes?"
"Should we attempt to cultivate and restore the land here at all? The Planet Reading did indicate that we should leave this continent. A number of clans have already departed."
"The council's decision was that we'd analyze the situation before taking any drastic actions. This area won't be frozen over or healed for centuries, maybe millennia. The Planet moves far more slowly than we do. I don't think there's any real rush, not in terms of our own lifespans."
"I suppose that's true," Jarilo said doubtfully, not completely mollified, but he went back to work.
Conversation over, Councilor Nokkenah joined the three magic adepts. They moved to a location where Lifestream spouted from a wide crack in the ground and flowed away in swirling rivers of glowing green liquid. Glittering crusts and glassy shards lined the fissure.
"There are fountains everywhere," Councilor Nokkenah said, shielding her eyes against the bright sunlight as she scanned the area. She pointed to a crater wall. "Even in the cliffs. Jarilo was right. It's even carving depressions in the land. Some of the fountains are already crystallizing. Amazing."
"I'm glad we brought extra clothes," said a magic expert named Adept Noro. He rubbed his arms. "I'm already cold. The Planet's pain is so strong here that it seems...well, it seems almost irrational. Let's get done here and move on."
Adept Roua tilted her head and asked, "Do you think that maybe here, at a direct source, the Lifestream can provide some insight into why some people saw dead relatives at that terrible Planet Reading?"
The other magic adepts exchanged skeptical looks at that hopeful suggestion. No one had been able to determine the cause, and, when consulted, the Planet had only offered impressions of worry and confusion. Even the very best healers were—apparently—baffled. The incidents had stopped, but that they had occurred at all was an ongoing concern.
Of course, all the healers on the north continent were avatars of the One Self, so naturally they had reported no successes or useful information.
It observed warily as the four Planet Readers took up positions around a gushing fountain and joined hands.
"The Planet is definitely distressed and in pain," Reader Mordvin said. She took a deep breath. "I've felt it since we arrived, but now it's almost overwhelming. It's not only in agony from its wound, but there's something... The word 'calamity.'" Her eyes blinked slowly, unfocused. "Calamity, crisis, calamity. The Planet... It's... Panicked? Is it afraid?"
"It's afraid," Reader Utixo confirmed, nodding his head. "I feel it, too. The Crisis. The Calamity from the Skies. We've sensed this before in a Planet Reading. The Planet's distress is not just from the injury caused by the meteorite. We need to do another Planet Reading. Something is truly wrong here."
The One Self experienced an unfamiliar frisson of alarm. Another Planet Reading? So close to its primary habitation and directly with the Lifestream itself? The Cetra had already gleaned too much knowledge. They needed to be stopped before they gained more. They would be absorbed to remove their threat.
The One Self made a decision. A distraction, notable enough to get the entire group's attention. Let them find something useless but intriguing. Let them be distracted.
Distracted by...
Its abandoned vessel.