This is a fan translation of Counterstrike (Ответныйудар) by Mikhail Akhmanov, currently only available in Russian and, because of the author's passing in 2019, unlikely to ever be published in English. This is the second book in a six-book series called Arrivals from the Dark (Пришедшие из мрака), which also has a six-book spin-off series called Trevelyan's Mission (Миссия Тревельяна).
I claim no rights to the contents herein.
Chapter 6
Dyte, Keeper of Communications
He always experienced a burst of energy after the t'hami oblivion. It was no wonder, for he was already at the age of maturity, as he had first seen light not in the New Worlds but on the other side of the Void, on Eindo'o, one of the colonies settled back at the beginning of the Third Phase. He was not as old as Waira or Foyn, but still, his flesh was already feeling the pressing weight of time, and the rejuvenating treatments, which also removed the tension of the tuahha, were far from unnecessary.
After leaving the t'hami chamber, he spent a long time standing in the middle of his underground dwelling, studying his holographic image, woven from strands of light. The signs of old age were not yet visible: there was no green in his dark shining hair, his skin was smooth, without a trace of wrinkles, his lips were firm, his figure was thin and slender, like that of all the higher caste Faata. In human time measurements, he had lived for three hundred and twenty years and could still last at least as long, especially on the pleasant, warm Ro'on. Ro'on was the best of the New Worlds, a true gem, found among the stars by Waira's Ship, the first and, for now, the only one to cross the Void. The Ship continued on with Yata, a different Pillar of Order, for Ships needed to fly, expanding the reach of the race, and Waira, by the right of the eldest, had taken Ro'on's best continent. Now Waira's Sheaf ruled this landmass, and no one had left it, except for Intermediary Iveh; not Yan, the Guardian of the Heavens, not the Watchers Tuyma and Uyggi. He, Dyte, the Keeper of Communications, had also stayed behind, sending his seed and his offspring along with Yata and Iveh. Let them fly! And may they never see an Eclipse!
Dyte himself did not feel the pull to change locations, even less so for distant travels. His homeworld Eindo'o was a cold and scarce place, poor in life and natural resources; its inhabitants' primary concern was enriching the atmosphere with oxygen and drilling wells, necessary to reach the underground waters. They only grew small brains, a bit dumb, capable of regulating the water balance or controlling a few thousand t'ho, working at the atmospheric factory. Eindo'o would be unable to equip its own Ship, as it required a higher-order quasi-mind, which needed warmth and plenty of mineral-rich water during its maturation process. For Dyte, whose psychic gift had manifested early and with incredible strength, his home planet was a dead end. Dyte was, quite possibly, the best Keeper of the Third Phase, and was, most likely, one of the best of the current era; what would someone like that have to do on an arid and poor world, even if it was his homeworld? Which was why he had agreed to Waira's offer, when the Ship made a stop at Eindo'o on its way to the Void, and the Pillar of Order started to gather additional crew. This was done in accordance with ancient tradition: a Ship leaving on a long voyage was required to take t'ho and the fully sentient Faata from multiple planets, so that the new settlers were not at risk from a diminished gene pool. Besides, this allowed the sperm bank to be refilled, which served to inseminate the ksa breeders.
After Eindo'o, Ro'on seemed to be a happy abode: three large continents, plains covered in grass and moss, an unending source of fiber, the lack of dangerous fauna, an ecological cycle familiar to the plants that had been cultivated since ancient times, a generous sun, a salty ocean, and plenty of fresh water. There was another planet in Ro'on's system, T'har, suitable for colonization, and Aezat at a neighboring star was also not the worst world the Faata had had to settle. There was also a gas giant here with a retinue of moons, sources of raw materials for Ships that were built anywhere the circumstances allowed. Really, the only valuable resource that could not be found here were sentient creatures, capable of serving and working, which was why Iveh, Intermediary, Speaker with the Bino Tegari, meaning aliens, had not stayed on Ro'on, leaving with Yata on a new flight. He had no one to speak to here.
The Ship had left with the maturation of the first generation of t'ho, who had replaced the pilots, olks, ksa, and the worker castes who had died. In principle, each newly-colonized world had to send its Mothership on the next journey, as well as equip another one, so that the expansion would not stop, and that the other races, the Dromi and the P'ata, the Haptors and the Llyano, the Kni'lina and the Shada, felt dread before the might of the Third Phase. A Ship took a long time to build and required a lot of effort, but Waira, Foyn, and Yass, the Pillars of Order of the three continents, had laid down an entire flotilla, for the beachhead of this branch of the galaxy necessitated rapid expansion. What dangers lurked here? Which races called this place home? No one knew that. The Daskins had marked the nearby sector as lacking sentience, but it was foolish to trust this ancient chart, for it had been put together at the time when the furry ancestors of the Faata still had their tails. Over the millions of years, warlike races, like those very same Dromi or Haptors, could have moved into the region.
"A fleet of three Ships, a lot of work, much, much effort…" Dyte mused, peering into his image in the middle of the gloomy hall. Three whole Ships! He turned off the projector with a thought and started to put on his clothing. The quasi-mind for one of them had already been grown and sent to the outer planet with a pair of his own offsprin, not as gifted as Tiych, the firstborn of his seed, who had left with Yata, but they were already capable of maintaining the stability of the giant brain. Two others were maturing in the warm waters of M'ar'nehadi, and even here, a third of the planetary diameter away, he could feel their sleepy contentment. Not yet sentient, but already more than a mindless mass of neuron cells and organosilicon tissues… Their individuality would soon awaken. Probably before his hair turned green and his skin was furrowed by wrinkles.
Dyte stepped towards the gravity shaft, leading to the surface, and unlocked the entrance membrane. He had but to step over the threshold and rise up to the light and the sun on a stream of warm air, soar towards the green grass and the trees, return to the world that, after the many cycles he had spent in oblivion, had taken a small step forward. He touched the membrane, peered into its iridescence, and suddenly froze, trying to resurrect something important in his mind. Some thought or matter he'd forgotten in t'hami? Unlikely: the trance, interrupted by the awakening equipment at the necessary moment, did not hinder the work of the brain. A problem in his dwelling? Also doubtful: his defenses were perfect and did not register any alarm signals. Something with his appearance? Some feature, a detail he missed?..
Activating the projector, Dyte once again examined his holographic double, this time wearing skin-tight bright-green clothing. Nothing! Stretching his lips, which was a sign of irritation, he summoned a flying module and headed towards the gravlift with a determined look. Whatever had slipped away would not disappear, it would be remembered at the moment of contact with the quasi-mind, at the instant of crystal, piercing clarity, granting power over the past and the future. A power greater than that possessed by all the Pillars of Order on Ro'on, the rulers of the present.
Above, in the transparent violet sky, the enormous disk of the sun hovered above the horizon, spilling the orange glow over the blue-green plain. It slipped through the bumpy tree trunks and slowly rolled down the hill ridge to the river, glittering emerald sparkles in the morning light. Htaa trees stood in an uneven circle at the top of the hill, surrounding their giant progenitor, from whose seeds, spread by the wind during the fruit-bearing seasons, had born both this grove and all the others nearby, crowning the hills with flat green caps. Sharp roofs of structures, where the local t'ho worked and lived, gleamed white on the riverbank. They were supervised by Overseer Haiza, a failed Keeper of Communications, who was, nevertheless, capable of communicating with the small regional brain. The brain controlled the t'ho and the machines extracting nutrients from the moss, the foliage, and the grass, but this was an incidental and not its primary function for the higher-caste Faata living in the hills. The psychic field maintained by the quasi-mind in the area was more important; it allowed them to communicate and give orders telepathically, without the use of a kaff or a contact film.
Four olk guards with dense musculature were lying on the grass under the htaa trees, where the hill started descending to the plain. Their smooth skin and hairless scalps glistened in the sun, the amplifier bracelets gripped their powerful forearms, their cheeked faces seemed calm. However, Dyte knew how deceptive their serenity was; olks were always ready for action, and nothing but death or a new order could stop them.
The olks here maintained his peace (occasionally, some workers, not connected to the quasi-mind, would run up from the riverbank to the hills), but he did not feel any sympathy for the guards, nor any other t'ho. No sympathy, no dislike, no compassion, only indifference and slight disgust. The t'ho were, of course, a necessary part of civilization, its consumable goods, which were quickly worn out and just as quickly restored, but they were not true sentient beings. Millennia of breeding had turned them into appendages of the machines or mindless executors but ensured stability: the Third Phase did not experience confrontations of opinions, widespread discontent, rebellions, or wars, which had led to the fall of the previous cultures.
Things were difference once, but those times have passed, Dyte thought, throwing an indifferent glance at the guards. He was still feeling irritated; the thought of something that had happened but been forgotten continued to torment him.
The flying module awaited him on the hillside facing the river. The floor of the cabin bulged, forming a seat, the walls were rippled by a haze and then turned transparent, and, through one of them, Dyte made out a long row of grass-filled platforms, slowly gliding towards the buildings on the riverbank. He had never been there and had never spoken with Haiza, the local Overseer. Their ranks were incompatible: Haiza commanded a few hundred t'ho workers, while Dyte, a member of the Sheaf, was one of the planetary rulers.
The module silently rose and turned south, towards the narrow M'ar'nehadi Sea separating the two continents. A thin naked pilot, wrapped in contact film, was hanging in the forward part of the cabin, and, linking with him for a moment, Dyte ordered, "Higher!.. Higher and faster!" The blue-green plain rapidly disappeared behind them, then the movement of the grass, the trees, and the hills appeared to slow down; the machine soared up into the violet sky, the horizon unfolded, the trees and the grass melded into monochromatic rug with silver strands of rivers and wrinkled elevations. Dyte once again touched the pilot's mind. The t'ho was happy: the rapid flight and the fusion with the vehicle filled him with a happy feeling of freedom. Only flight, mere flight… He was a part of the peaceful transportation caste and did not know how to use weapons or kill. Combat pilots were different; their happiness was fueled by destruction. The death of the hated aliens, the destruction of ships, the flame consuming cities… Life was a fiery flare, replacing the trance of t'hami, where they normally spent their time.
Below, rounding the plain, rose a mountain ridge, wrapped in clouds. The mountains were small and picturesque: waterfalls ran down the slopes into the gorges, blue lakes shone in the extinguished craters, lilac, yellow, white rocks became meadows and plateaus, there were occasional spots of the forests, Ro'on's endemic flora, not yet displaced by the alien plants. The Faata liked this area, which held the memory of their homeworld; not that charred, bare planet it had become after the Second Eclipse, but flowering, fertile, untouched by civilization. This is how things used to be, but those times have passed and will never return, Dyte thought again, peering into the play of colors. They descended below the clouds and passed the waterfalls, hiding the steeply cut hillside; here, under the protection of the stone arches and force fields, was the center of the Sheaf, and with them, in the depth of the rocky mountain, was the coordinating brain and the shaft with battle modules. The climate in this place was hot and humid, rains were frequent, and the water, draining from the overflowing lakes onto the coastal plain, bore rivers. The plain, narrow and stretching from east to west, bordered the sea, and, beyond its tranquil water, rose the southern landmass, which belonged to Yass's Sheaf, the smallest on Ro'on. Yass was young and ambitious; he would probably leave on the first Ship in search of a world where he could become an absolute ruler.
The flying module was descending. A p'hot preserve, surrounded by a shield barrier, passed, then a tall stone terrace with twin blue domes came forward; their distant end went into the sea, where water raged at the gateways.
A psychic probe touched his mind. Noyakh, Foyn's Keeper of Communications… The touch was cautious, submissive even; Noyakh was aware of his strength. Aboard the Ship, which had crossed the dark Void, he was one of Dyte's assistants and was not distinguished by any special talents. Tiych, who had flown away with Yata, promised to be much more.
"The regimen is stable," Noyakh transmitted respectfully, accompanying the thought with a visual image: two large saltwater pools with lumpy brown carcasses on the bottom. Based on their slow pulses, Dyte understood that no incidents had occurred during his trance. More than likely, Noyakh had not entered into contact with the quasi-sentients, afraid to take the risk: they were very sensitive at the maturation stage.
"Leave. I no longer need you."
They broke contact. In Noyakh's emotional spectrum, he felt carefully hidden uncertainty and fear; he had never grown a large quasi-mind before. A truly large brain, one capable of controlling a giant Ship and thousands of t'ho. The gift of a Keeper of Communications was rare, and there had not been any new talents or prospective genetic lines on Ro'on, T'har, or Aezat. No one but Tiych and two of Dyte's other offspring. That was not many, but not so few either, if one considered the low fertility of the ksa and the laws of heredity, limiting the transfer of psychic abilities.
The module landed, and Dyte stepped out, putting the pilot into a waiting trance. Standing on the terrace, he looked over at the forest stretching out at its foot, listened to the distant roar of the p'hots, and took several deep breaths. His eyes closed; sunlight was replaced by semidarkness, the howling of the beasts, the sound of the waves, the rustling of the leaves started to move away, flow from his mind, until it was covered by a deep echoing silence. Lowing his mental barrier, which protected his mind, Dyte stretched to the brain, sleeping at the bottom of the pool, then threw a telepathic line to the other one, awakening them to activity. They responded, feeding him with energy, melding in telepathic union; the darkness disappeared, the world started to rapidly expand, first including all of Ro'on, then the cold T'har, the two infertile worlds spinning beyond T'har, and, finally, Meytani, the outer planet, where Ships were being assembled on one of its moons. That was the initial stage of the contact: establishing a link to the third brain, a mature one, capable of intelligent communication. That faraway quasi-mind could teach its younger brethren far quicker and more successfully than a Faata, even someone with a Keeper's experience. If the mental link was maintained, then…
Dyte started, opening his eyes, and the line stretching out into space was cut. He stood motionless for some time, looking over the memories coming back to him, evaluating and weighing them; had he been a human of Earth, the sensations he felt would have been a mix of surprise and disbelief. But, unlike humans, Dyte and his fellow Faata did not perceive strange facts as something irrational, unexplainable, or, perhaps, as a figment of imagination; they assumed that their senses did not trick them, and that even an unexplained fact was still useful. Therefore, Dyte did not doubt the reality of what had happened but pondered the meaning and the consequences of the events.
Having clarified them as much as his scant information allowed, he touched the mind of Waira, the Pillar of Order, and asked for an audience.
Waira was old. His long hair was green, deep wrinkles framed his eyes, his lips drooped, making them look like a beak, his body was dried up, and the form-fitting clothes only emphasized the fragility and ephemerality of his flesh. He was at an age when radiation therapy, conducted during the tuahha period, sustained life but not the appearance, for each method had a limit; then again, he could still live and rule for a long time, for the Faata did not know senility or any other ailments. It was said that Waira was one of those space travelers who had returned to the homeworld at the age of the Second Eclipse, and even if that was not true, then he would have had to have experienced the start of the Third Phase. Only Iveh seemed as ancient, but he had left Ro'on long ago, and there were now no more contemporaries of Waira left in the New Worlds.
He floated in the weightlessness zone, near the sphere representing the planet. The enormous hall, whose ceiling was too high up to be visible, opened to the south, to the coastal plain, the wide arches; a force field glittered beyond them, and a stream of water endlessly fell from the mountains. The sphere, hanging in the center, symbolized power, power over a Ship or a planet, and, by ancient tradition, a Pillar of Order's assistants were called Those Who Stand by the Sphere.
But Waira was alone now. He lowered to the ribbed disk under the sphere, hiding the gravity generator, and moved his thin, fragile fingers, allowing Dyte to come closer.
"You wanted to speak with me. I am listening." His surprisingly strong, resonant voice echoed under the hall's ceiling.
"I just had my tuahha period," Dyte spoke, sending a mental picture, his naked crouched figure, hanging in a gloomy chamber, wrapped in tubes and strips of contact film. "I have spent seven cycles in t'hami."
"You just had your tuahha, and you have spent seven cycles in t'hami," Waira repeated deliberately. "Do you think anyone cares? I don't."
Faata grew irritable with age, Dyte noted, not letting this thought out. His mental block was flawless.
"The t'hami trance is deep and shuts off the mind," he said. "But I still received information. A signal. Probably on a subconscious level."
In a similar situation, a human would say that he'd had a dream. But the Faata of the Third Phase, both t'ho and the fully sentient, did not require sleep. Their physiological cycle was different: long sleepless periods were alternated by short periods of tuahha, a time of elevated emotional activity, due to an excess of sex hormones. In the ancient times, the tuahha stimulated reproduction using the same manner that was employed by humans, the Kni'lina, and the other humanoid races, but it was considered absurd and barbaric in this age. The Faata had been practicing artificial insemination for over a thousand years, procreation was being done through the ksa caste, and all the other females were barren. However, they had been unable to eliminate the periodic hormone release, which was embedded too deeply in the race's genetics and heredity mechanism, so the ancient instinct was being suppressed by a total oblivion in t'hami. In this state of unconsciousness, vital processes were slowed down much more than during sleep, the need for air and food, as well as the sexual tension, were almost nonexistent. And, of course, no one ever saw dreams in t'hami. They did not even have such a concept.
Waira stretched his drooping lips. This indicated a grimace of distrust rather than a smile; the Faata had a different set of facial expressions than humans.
"The t'hami trance is indeed a deep one," he agreed. "If you have received some sort of information, it will remain there, beyond the barrier of consciousness. You cannot comprehend it with your mind."
"You forget that I am a Keeper and that my gift is stronger than Noyakh's or that of anyone living in the New Worlds. Stronger than yours, Pillar of Order, even though you are the most experienced and wisest of us." Dyte bent his arms in the gesture of submission. "Having come out of t'hami, I have established a link with the quasi-mind, and that helped me to remember and comprehend. If the link is strong, the barriers fall… You understand what I mean."
He transmitted the sensation of the mental flight in the emptiness and the clarity, as cold, endless, as the interstellar space that lay beyond the tiny world of Ro'on. Waira's eyes flashed. The Pillar of Order knew this feeling, like all the Faata capable of telepathic exchange. A thousandth of their race, the intellect of civilization, for hundreds of millions of t'ho were mere stones of its pedestal.
"So, you have received a message, Keeper… Where did the signals come from? From Aezat or through the Void?"
"Through the Void? I don't think so. Even Aezat is too distant and inaccessible for psychic communication, until they get five or six large quasi-sentients."
"Perhaps Aezat has built a Ship, which is now approaching us," Waira countered. "Or a Ship is performing a series of jumps from the direction of the Void, and that is why…" He pressed his lips in thought. "No, this is unlikely. Not much time has passed since we have crossed the Void. It is too soon to send a second Ship. The Old Worlds will await news from us, they will wait for the Ship we are building… Then it must be Aezat?"
"I doubt it, Pillar of Order. Aezat is too poor, and, even though they are equipping a single Ship, not three like us, we will finish first. I am certain of that."
"Then where did the signals you've received came from? And why did you perceive them in t'hami? Did you attempt to establish contact again?"
"Yes, but without success. We know little about subconscious psychic communication, but I think…" Dyte was unsure, "I think that it was Yata's Ship. More specifically, one the small battle modules that was likely sent by him to Ro'on or T'har from the periphery of the system. I think, Yata is returning."
The skin under Waira's eyes sagged, and Dyte was once again amazed how old he was. Perhaps, he was older than Iveh and all those who had seen the beginning of the Third Phase.
"Yata is returning?" the Pillar of Order spoke. "Why? It is not only too soon but impossible! To find and settle a new planet, grow a new generation of t'ho, build a new Ship… This takes time!"
They were not discussing the nature of the signals received by Dyte, but their probable source, which was more important. Psychic waves scattered over large distances, the received signals were vague, their meaning distorted beyond recognition, and, besides, the message could turn out to be a spontaneous psychic emission, not realized by the sender, not containing anything he would wish to say. The sender was, of course, a Faata; Dyte would be unable to recognize an alien psychic pulse. The galaxy's inhabitants had different brain structures, and the Third Phase has yet to encounter beings with whom they would be able to establish a direct telepathic contact.
Waira waited. The silence stretched. The waterfall silently streamed beyond the threshold of the force shield, the solar disk looked like an orange blot through the watery veil, and clouds piled up above the mountains. Warm rains watered the plateaus, the air there was hot and humid, but it was easy to breathe in the enormous underground cavity. The quiet and the cool here calmed Dyte.
"Yata could have experienced difficulties," he said finally. "We don't know what he encountered. A Dromi or Haptor battle fleet, mercenaries of the Lo'ona Aeo, a Silmarri caravan, P'ata or Shada orbital bases… But I am certain of one thing: the signal came from my offspring. From a powerful Keeper of Communications, whose pulses have crossed a great distance and were received by a related brain." He touched his forehead with his palm, paused, and continued. "My offspring on Meytani did not establish contact, that has been verified. Only Tiych remains. But Tiych has left with Yata and cannot appear here without a Ship. This means that Yata is returning."
Silence fell once again. Then Waira asked, "Are you certain about Tiych?"
"He is my offspring," Dyte repeated stubbornly. "Who else could I have heard? At a great distance, subconsciously, in the t'hami trance?.. Tiych, only Tiych! I am not mistaken about this, Pillar of Order, I am familiar with the spectrum of the emission and can recognize it accurately. Tiych manifested the same genetic traits as I did. A powerful Keeper! He will become even stronger with time."
"So what did you hear? Or saw?"
Dyte closed his eyes and focused, calling up the mental image.
"A module… a small battle module," he said quietly, sending the image of a cramped space. The gloom within the walls of the cabin, the contact film stretching from the floor to the ceiling, and the sensation of the surrounding emptiness, dark, cold, and endless… He could not say where the flying vehicle was heading, but it seemed obvious: to Ro'on or T'har. These modules were created for battle, in-system flights, or patrols, their range and resources were limited. That meant Ro'on or T'har… probably, Ro'on, if one remembered that the ruling Sheaf, Waira's Sheaf, was located here.
"A small module," Waira echoed. "Something else?"
"There were two in it."
"Obviously! Tiych wouldn't be flying it himself!" Irritation once again came through the Pillar of Order's voice, then was immediately replaced by concern. "The Ship is returning, and Yata has sent a module, as if he wants to tell us something… If he has encountered the Dromi or the Haptors… especially the Dromi… and if they are following our Ship…" Now Waira's psychic pulses showed genuine alarm rather than mere concern. "I will speak with Foyn and Yass, and you send a warning to T'har. We will send several modules with a coordinating brain, this will be done by Yan and two other Strategists… Can you determine the direction, Keeper?"
"The sector between the orbits of Ro'on and T'har, towards Meytani," Dyte said. "We should send scouts from Meytani as well. It has a large quasi-sentient and two of my offspring. Perhaps they will find the Ship and its pursuers."
A thought of unknown danger suddenly pierced him. Until now, life on Ro'on had been so pleasant and serene… Then again, the reason for the alarm seemed too uncertain; no matter what Waira had said, Yata could have returned for a thousand different reasons. For example, the chosen direction of the flight could lack promise, and the crew's bioresources were exhausted; it was possible for the ksa females to suddenly stop producing offspring or bear mutant bastards. In that case, the gene pool and the sperm bank would need to be replenished.
"It's a good idea about Meytani," Waira agreed. "Contact your offspring, have them take control over the peripheral space. But their main task is to preserve the Ships… Tell them that, Dyte!"
"I will not forget, Pillar of Order."
"Go. Let us never see the darkness of an Eclipse!"
Making the gesture of respect, Dyte headed for the gravity shaft and descended to the lower tier. Here, in the maze of the center of the Sheaf, in the interweaving of hallways, stairs, and ramps, cramped chambers and spacious halls, there was liveliness; perhaps, there was no other place on the planet, where five hundred fully sentient beings and eight to ten thousand t'ho worked together. For the most part, they performed embryonic surgery, selection and fertility enhancement of females, adaptation of warriors and workers to Ro'on's conditions, as well as the problem of psychic genetics. The latest was the most important area for the entire Faata civilization, especially for the New Worlds, its tiny shard, cast into another branch of the galaxy. The ksa were fertilized only by the sperm of the fully sentient, but the gift for thought contact was inherited only in one or two cases out of ten thousand and was showing a declining tendency. All attempts at creating a race of telepaths, so numerous, productive, and resilient that there would be no more need for t'ho, were as yet futile, and the progress of the Third Phase continued to be determined by the million individuals capable of communicating directly with the quasi-sentient symbiotes. Some specialists believes that the activation of the psychic genes was only a matter of time, while others claimed that it was necessary to achieve the inheritance of the required traits through both the patrilineal and the matrilineal lines, but there were also those who thought that everything was leading up to a new Eclipse. Most did not care for them. No one liked dark prophecies, which, however, did not stop them from coming true.
Dyte stepped out onto the artificial promenade hanging over the precipice. Loud waterfalls were to the right, the gorge below was veiled in fog, in the distance, beyond the coastal plain, was the gleaming surface of the M'ar'nehadi, and the enormous and warm disk of the sun was descending to the west, towards Foyn's continent. There were four rows of flying modules on the promenade, hundreds upon hundreds of machines with pilots frozen in a trance; they stretched like walls made of dark angular stones, placed on the even platform by the hand of a giant. Dyte sent a telepathic pulse, awakening the t'ho in his vehicle, unlocked the membrane, but did not continue moving; he froze, looking at the fog rising out of the chasm and remembering the vision that had come to him.
There was a module, a tiny ship, flying through space, and the dark abyss, full of stars, and two beings, whose mental spectrums he could sense through the emptiness, albeit vaguely, that separated them from Ro'on. One of them was an offspring of his seed, which meant it had to be Tiych; the other one was probably a pilot. But the film, the contact film, stretched from the floor to the ceiling of the cabin!.. Dyte tried to resurrect the memory, and it suddenly seemed to him that the film was empty, like the peel of a fruit without any pulp or juice. He was almost certain of that, and his certainty collided with accurate knowledge: ships didn't fly without pilots.
At least, ships of the Third Phase didn't.