Coming of Age on Tuvulot, Episode 6: Contact!
[Editor’s Note: Read the whole story from the beginning!]
A few days into their stay on the Chitinists’ asteroid complex, Lozlian and Elizabeth had settled into a routine that was simultaneously terrifying and tedious. They were closely watched and their captors made it abundantly clear that any hint of insubordination would be severely punished. At the same time, the chores they were assigned were mind-numbingly dull.
The Chitinists, whose ambitions far outstripped their resources, were unable, as yet, to build a fully automated assembly line. And given tight Kroleni security, they’d reached the limit of the equipment they could steal.
In order to manufacture the weaponry they needed for their first big strike, they relied on a team of about a hundred captives, which they’d assembled over the past few months. Like every other worker, Lozlian and Elizabeth were expected to fit together pre-assembled components inside a poor excuse for a “clean room.” The assemblies that needed more expertise were assigned to a dozen creaky servicebots of every make and model that the Chitinists had scavenged from scrap yards and patched together with varying degrees of success. While some of the ‘bots were useful only for heavy lifting, several were nearly up to the standards of a fully independent AI.
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Still, most of these “electronic marvels” required regular supervision. During this grim time, Lozlian’s one source of amusement was coming up with subtle roadblocks that would make the lesser machine minds stop dead. As he quickly realized, they lacked the reasoning ability to postpone their current assignment long enough to clear their own way. Often, it took no more than narrowing a corridor with a few stray metal crates to confuse these devices and send them on a circuitous path to avoid the obstacle.
This, of course, was the tiniest possible compensation for the loss of his freedom and the feeling that he’d been abandoned by his superiors in the Kroleni civil service. Why, he wondered, hadn’t they send a patrol unit or two by now? More disturbing was the steady decline in Elizabeth’s health. The asteroid complex, made to suit insectoids, hardly offered ideal life-support conditions for a human. Neither the air quality nor the average temperature were right for her. Lozlian saw her shivering from time to time and her voice, when she spoke at all, was strangely altered.
“Ah hab a cauld,” she told him one afternoon. “Ahm ruhl sick. Pobby die heah.”
Like every other interstellar species, the humans relied heavily on regular immune system maintenance to avoid contamination. Not only were humans unusually vulnerable to infection, but Elizabeth’s kidnapping had interrupted the regular cycle of vaccinations that her health depended on. Though Lozlian realized that he, too, was likely due for medical attention, the Yonopcry were much hardier than the humans. As for the Insectoids, they were susceptible to fewer infections to begin with, and the Imperium had devoted considerable resources over time to strengthen their immune systems through gradual genome remapping. By the time they’d taken control of Lozlian’s homeworld, they were essentially immune to all forms of lethal viral and microbial infection — no matter its origin or degree of mutation.
But despite having promised the Yonopcry similar remapping of their genome would that would bring them “relief from eons of disease and suffering,” the promised miracle had yet to materialize. Seeing Elizabeth in this condition made Lozlian angry, but he knew better than to complain to Ralshinatinoor. Though he’d assumed that the Chitinist would want to use her to obtain a huge ransom, either financial or political, it seemed his attention had wandered. Maybe, Lozlian feared, the Chitinists’ mission had gone south and they’d decided to take as many Kroleni citizens with them as possible.
Regardless, as he lay in bed that night, Lozlian made a decision. Even if it cost him his life, he’d reach out telepathically to … someone … who could bring help for Elizabeth. It was strange. Never in his life had he felt so protective of a female, even of his own species. And yet … what was happening to him?
My Omah-Drunan must be closer than I thought, he told himself. I have to get home before I miss my time!
Yonopcry biology being what it was, each male had a narrow window of opportunity to bond with a female. After that time passed, his odds of being mated were slim. In the old days, he’d heard, the shamans had a way to rekindle the Omah-Drunan if it had been interrupted by war, famine or disease. Yet it seemed the shamans were gone forever.
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His mind made up, Lozlian crept out of his bunk and walked silently along the narrow corridors of the workers’ domed barracks. He headed for a storage closet that was more or less centrally located and usually left unlocked. After all, none of the workers would dare steal from it and the insectoids had provided themselves with every luxury. He’d seen that clearly enough the few times he’d been ordered to do housework for one of the higher-ups. As soon as he reached the closet door, he pushed it open. Though it emitted a faint creak, he continued forward until he found a spot behind a large cabinet that would shield him from view if someone happened to walk past.
Without making a sound, he crouched down on the closet’s cold, dust-coated gray tile floor and closed his eyes. Now the only problem was deciding whom to contact. Though his first thought had been to reach out to the Kroleni Council, he decided that if they hadn’t sent help by now, there must be more serious trouble brewing elsewhere.
No way they don’t know that we’re missing, especially Elizabeth, he thought. And they have detailed flight logs on every ship that leaves Tuvulot. Should have been here by now.
Where else could he turn? Not the humans. Even if Lozlian knew whom to search for, the human world government was sure to be impossibly far away. Worse, because their experience with telepathy was limited, the humans might mistake his mental “voice” for an aural hallucination.
That left Lozlian with the faint hope that, maybe, a few shamans survived in the Kroleni detention camps in the Tergidinoor-Telsidinoor system, where a few arid planets circled a binary star. If he could make his signal clear and “purify his thoughts” as before, maybe he could convince them to form a circle and gain control of the Chitinists. Maybe then, Lozlian hoped, he could escape with Elizabeth in an automated ship. But after his recent telepathic experience on the mini freighter, that had made him so exhausted, his newly-minted plan suddenly appeared hopeless. How in the sacred groves of Jalallpero could he reach the shamans without killing himself? He just wasn’t up to the task.
Lozlian’s heart sank. Elizabeth would die on the Chitinists’ asteroid base and there was nothing he could do about it. Yet in the depths of despair, the image of the diminutive Erwan Duval clambering out of his robotic shell at the Tuvulot spaceport entered Lozlian’s mind. Elizabeth’s father had faced down terrible odds and won.
You have to try, he scolded himself.
With the hormonal fury of the Omah-Drunan raging through his veins, Lozlian found it difficult to focus. But he soon discovered that holding an image of Elizabeth in his thoughts made it easier to delve into the recesses of his mind. His goal, as he vaguely remembered, was to open his cajardra. a unique Yonopcry sensory organ buried deep in his brain. That would allow him to both project and detect mental energy with maximum efficiency.
“Opening the inner mind,” the shamans had called it. At least, he thought he remembered hearing that phrase. Nevertheless, it seemed to be working. Little by little, he felt his signal strength and definition increase. Between his desperate concern for Elizabeth’s health and the hormonal surges that assaulted his body, he was reaching a mental state most shamans attained only after hours of practice and meditation. In a flash of inspiration, he pushed himself to recall the position of the binary star system he’d studied in school. He forced himself to recall the holographic star charts his insectoid teachers had used to reassure the students that the shamans were safe.
Look past the star charts! he insisted. Could he find the real Tergidinoor-Telsidinoor, the real camps, the real….
Lozlian’s mind flooded with a vivid image from deep space. It was as if he were in a ship approaching the system. Though sweat drenched his pelt and his head throbbed, he kept going until he could detect the heartbeat of a Yonopcry on the surface of one of the system’s mid-sized planets.
Shaman! his thoughts rang out. Help us! Help! We are trapped, we are….”
A crystal clear voice, or rather a chorus of voices, echoed in his mind.
Young One! Desist! said the voices. Know that we will do the little we can and that forces of change are already in motion. Be brave and you will survive. Now go! You are about to be discovered!
Elated, terrified and morbidly exhausted, Lozlian closed contact and managed to stumble back into his bunk before a Chitinist guard stomped in with a large particle rifle on one shoulder.
“Get up!” he screamed. “All of you louts, shake your behinds. We’re moving out now!”
“What’s happening?” asked Lozlian.
“It’s the Chyloradrin, you idiot!” said the guard. “They’ve discovered our position. Come on now!”
Faster than Lozlian would have thought possible, the entire bunk emptied out and the population of the asteroid complex crammed itself into two small, battered ships. No sooner were the hatches secure than they lifted off. Thought Lozlian had no idea where they were headed, he refused to give in to fear.
The chorus of voices entered his mind a second time.
You see, Young One? they said. Change is coming.
A new episode appears every other Monday.
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Mark Laporta is the author of Probability Shadow and Entropy Refraction, the first two novels in the science fiction series, Against the Glare of Darkness, which are available at a bookstore near you, on Amazon and at Barnes & Noble.He is also the author of Orbitals: Journeys to Future Worlds, a collection of short science fiction, which is available as an ebook.
