Matriarch’s Journal: 3rd Landsday of the Month of Foundation, 3617
You were probably quite surprised when I vanished. So was I. Suddenly, I found myself on the bridge of a very alien spaceship.
The next thing I noticed was that Clive and Johannon weren’t with me. Then I heard a voice; “Your friends are safe. It’s just that they aren’t very interesting to us. You’re interesting to us.”
The person talking to me appeared to be a very old woman, human in all appearances except that she had four eyes. The xenobiologist in me got curious about that – would four eyes improve depth of field?
“Thanks, I think.”
“Let’s hold off on our conversation for a moment. There’s something we’d like to see.”
An apparition developed in mid-air. It was a circular viewport, but it had no screen, and when I looked at the back side, it disappeared. That meant it wasn’t a hologram. Somehow, she was projecting some kind of vision – perhaps through telepathy?
It was a disturbing vision. A man in a spacesuit was being attacked by one of the Great Dread. “Can we do something to help him?” I asked.
She smiled at me. “He doesn’t need our help,” she said. All four eyes shone with amusement. “You don’t recognize him?” The vision focused so that I could see the man’s face through the face-plate. I’d never seen him before in my life. He was roughly made, perhaps in his 40s, with strong, distinctive features and carelessly cropped bangs. His hair was so dark it almost seemed black, but it was hard to tell through the face-plate. It was also hard to get a good look at his eyes.
When I did, I knew. “Shit. It’s Ash. Did the SongLuminants put him up to this?”
The woman nodded. “I’m afraid so. Look.”
From out of nowhere, a powerful laser beam cut through the darkness of empty space. “The base is very well-hidden,” the woman explained. “SongLuminants have had long experience in dealing with the Denolin Turym, the ones you call the Great Dread. Denolin Turym is what they call themselves – or at least, a translation into my language of what they call themselves. In your language, it would be, let’s see…Holn’ashti.”
“Holn’ashti?” I said, but my query was cut short by the demise of the creature – and Ash’s emanation with it. The figure of the mothman bloomed, opalescent blue against the black sky, spreading his orchid-petal feathers. Ash turned and flew in the direction of the laser’s source, suddenly disappearing.
“Fuck the SongLuminants! They thought of his emanation as expendable.”
“He was the bait,” the woman replied. “Let’s see how this plays out. That’s what we’re really interested in.”
The scene in the viewer changed to the interior of a space station. The technology was like nothing I’d ever seen, and quite impressive. Dozens of lobster-like creatures, hilariously covered in multicolored fur, scurried in excitement. I recognized them from Suzanna’s journals: Hreck.
Ash re-emanated on what seemed to be the main deck. It wasn’t the same man who had been in the spacesuit – the one who had died moments before. To my surprise, it was Lorcan.
To my greater surprise, his face was streaked with tears. “Have you been injured?” The question was posed by a metallic voice which seemed to emit from the walls. Then I noticed the enormous mounted screens – Quicknodes.
“Well, duh, Beat was just vaporized, and Tara is missing, but that’s not my issue right now,” Lorcan snarled. “The problem is that the Eer-gaaani were right. We did misunderstand. Those creatures aren’t trying to eat us. They do just fine absorbing stellar radiation.” His chest was heaving, and he had to stop to take a breath, to brush the tears away clumsily against the sleeve of his overcoat. “They wanted to absorb me because that’s how they evolve – incorporating the consciousness of something alien into themselves.”
“If we have mistaken their intent, perhaps we should try to communicate with them,” suggested another Quicknode voice.
“They can, but they won’t. From their perspective, they feel we can’t possibly understand their motives until we’re a part of them. They know we’ll never agree to it, we’ll fight unto the death, and never see that they only mean the best for us – the best, of course, being becoming like them. And they know we’ll try to kill them, and that sometimes we succeed, but it’s worth it because…” Lorcan’s voice broke. “They love us. They LOVE us. As Beat was dying, he was overwhelmed by the sense of unmitigated adoration, infinite compassion.”
Now I understood what my host was trying to tell me. Holn’ashti means “consuming lovers.”
“Then perhaps,” suggested a third Quicknode, “we shouldn’t be trying to destroy them?”
Lorcan turned on it furiously. “Are you fucking kidding me? Do you want to be absorbed by one of those things? They’re disgusting. No matter their motivations, to force themselves on us – the human word for it is rape. This is worse than rape. We have to wipe them out.” He started to laugh. “And I get to do it, not one of those poor sons-of-bitches who didn’t even get a proper name, just some kind of four-letter descriptor, because I and I is half-convinced that Yggdrasil will end up being destroyed. I get to do it because I understand. I know what it’s like to love something so much that you need to destroy it – but I didn’t. I didn’t. So I’m the only one who has a right to judge them.” He laughed harder. “Oh, it’s rich. I finally get what I’ve always wanted. I get to kill. And it’s bitter, so bitter.”
“He’s so much more morally developed than the SongLuminants,” mused the alien woman at my side. “Far more capable of compassion.”
It brought to mind a crazy vision I’d once had under the influence of amrita. “That’s why Lorcan is the hero. I had planned to be angry, very angry with Ash, but now I can’t. Why does he always get sucked into these things?”
“The SongLuminants are quite used to having their way – and very certain they know what is right,” said the woman. “That’s why we ended our friendship.”
This seemed an opportune moment to get a few answers. “Um, who are you, exactly?”
“My name is Neliit. I am of the species known as the Eer-gaaani.”
“Ah. I should’ve guessed.”
“We do have some measure of understanding of the SongLuminant position. You see, they had never known war. Why would they? Until we encountered the Denolin Turym, the SongLuminants had no natural predators. As beings of pure energy who could only exist undersea, near the vents where the mollusks lived, they weren’t competing for space or resources with anything. Unlike our species – and yours – they never knew what it meant to fight for survival – and thus never knew what it meant to respect one’s enemy.”
“So they had an extreme reaction when they were attacked.”
“Yes. And also, they’re arrogant. I would say arrogant in the way of youth – but that isn’t quite it – they’re an ancient species. Arrogant in never having to understand the nuances of pain. In half of one of your centuries, the Cu’enashti have understood that lesson more.”
“This is all very interesting, but why am I here? In a minute, Lorcan is going to remember that I disappeared and start freaking out.”
“As I said, we need to have a conversation with you. With Ashtara as well, but we’d like to speak with you first. It’s very much connected to this whole situation.” Neliit sighed, and the slump of her shoulders conveyed a weariness more ancient than I could possibly imagine. “We moved them here, you know.”
“Excuse me?”
“The Denolin Turym. This galaxy was so isolated, and although it had a number of native lifeforms, nothing approaching sentience. In our language, we called it Alshatim bar Oranna egel-Nafiiika – it means ‘distant plain of dying light.’ We thought it would be a good way to preserve them from extinction, where they could do no harm. It was naïve of us, I suppose.”
“But what does that have to do with me?”
“The Eer-gaaani and the SongLuminants were friends for many rotations. But we just couldn’t reconcile our difference in perspective over the Denolin Turym. And the Denolin themselves posed a great challenge to our confidence in our ability to communicate across the barrier of species. We decided it was best to become isolationist, lest by further misunderstanding, even greater harm was done. That is, until the Cu’enashti were brought to our attention.”
I got the point. “The Cu’enashti have achieved what the Denolin Turym aspire to do – they evolve based on their relationship with another species – a relationship which is based on love, but is not destructive.”
“Love. We had relied so much on the power of love – of understanding – only to have it fail us. But the SongLuminants had never loved, and so decided that compassion was useless, that the only thing which matters is respect.”
“But it’s both,” I injected. “That’s why Ash left me alone for two years while he was on Eden. He wanted to make certain that I wasn’t being subconsciously influenced to become what he wanted of me. He had that respect…”
“A respect informed by love,” she nodded. “That’s why we’re interested in the Cu’enashti as models for evolution. And humans, as well.”
It was rather surprising to find that one of these Advanced Sentient types actually cared about what humans had to say. However, Ash was my first priority. “Can we speak later? I really want to have this conversation, but…”
Neliit nodded. “Tomorrow, then. I will transport you and your companions to the SongLuminant construct.”
*****
When we appeared on the main deck, I was met with the full force of Lorcan’s distraught fury. “Where have you been, and why are you here, and why are they with you?”
Oh dear. I had forgotten what it might look like to bring Clive and Johannon with me. Or maybe I subconsciously wanted to piss you off.
“We got picked up by the Eer-gaaani,” I explained. “Apparently they set up this whole galaxy as a sort of nature preserve for the Denolin Turym – that is, the Great Dread.”
“The Eer-gaaani?” said one of the Quicknodes. “That changes everything. Oh, I’m Taxonomist 106, by the way.”
There was a quick round of introductions to the Quicknodes. The Hreck said nothing. “They’re like that,” said Lorcan. “Self-effacing. I’m just calling the little pink one Bisque, and the fat one is Étouffée, that’s Thermidor back at the console, and the greenish one is Newberg.”
“You have a way with words,” I remark dryly. “As for why I’m here – I might as well ask you that question. Weren’t you supposed to be going to the Draco Dwarf Cluster?”
“You can believe that this whole thing was not my idea. Davy and Dermot did a complete revision of the plans for Yggdrasil, with seven built-in specialists prepared to fight an intergalactic war. But all of a sudden, I’m emanated. Personally, I’d like to turn around and go home. It’s too late for that now, though.”
He glanced upward at the massive tree looming behind him. I hadn’t been able to get a good look at it through the Eer-gaaani projection. It was enormous – tall and straight, six trunks surrounding a seventh, central trunk so tightly packed they looked like bundled wire. Far above my head – maybe 30 meters up – they finally spread out into branches. The tree was sharp and angular, as different from Atlas and Goliath as one could imagine. I approached it slowly, laying my hand upon its smooth bark. I half-expected it to be cold as metal, but it wasn’t. It was warm, like every nau’gsh. It was perhaps a little warmer than usual. “Hello,” I said quietly. There was a faint rustle in the leaves as flowers slowly opened on three branches – meaning three had emanated. The flowers were slightly more pointed, more angular than on the other trees. Their colors were less subtle, gaudier blues and greens.
Clive was looking at a scanner. “Same as the others – exactly the same mass and volume. The taproot is enormous, though. It seems to be going through some kind of artificial portal into the nul-universe.”
“This galaxy isn’t very hospitable for us,” said Lorcan. “So why exactly is Rivers here?”
“Three guesses,” said Clive, “or have you completely lost all your talents?”
Lorcan regards him for a moment before breaking into laughter. “I get it now. You brought him with you so that I can have the pleasure of watching him die a horrible death.”
“Obviously,” snapped Clive, “I didn’t come to see you. I need Ailann.”
“Ailann,” Lorcan replies. “I don’t know about that. Cüinn says we shouldn’t try to emanate Ailann until we’ve established an Archon here. Did you bring the Staff of the Matriarch?”
“Of course,” I said sarcastically. “Bringing the tool which controls the power and defense grids for the entire Domha’vei into a distant galaxy full of dangerous predators seemed an indisputably wise course of action.”
“Meaning it’s back in the display case. Well, we hadn’t planned for you to be here. The Archon was being kept in reserve.”
“You mean that you intended to fight the greatest menace the galaxy has ever known without the power of an Archon? Did you leave every last lick of sense you ever had inside of the wormhole?”
“Correction,” said Eradicator 9. “Species 25 was a lot worse than the Great Dread. But we don’t talk about Species 25.”
“The Quicknodes are such a subtle species,” said Lorcan. “Such a droll sense of humor.”
“That wasn’t a joke,” said Eradicator.
“Hey!” Johannon yelled. He lunged forward to grab hold of Clive, who was in mid-collapse. “Steady now. Tara, I think we’d better…”
“He’s not in good shape,” I agreed. “Can we get some rest and discuss a plan of action tomorrow? I think the Eer-gaaani will want to be involved, too.”
“Um, Newberg, you help them get something set up for the dickhead – maybe a nice coffin will do the trick,” said Lorcan. “I need to take care of something.”
I watched him go, wondering what he was up to. The Hreck called Newberg chattered, waving a claw in the direction of the stair. We followed him into what seemed to be the general Hreck domicile. Extending along the walls were rows of what appeared to be nests stuffed with some kind of padding. He motioned for Clive to take one, and pulled some blankets out of a closet.
“I’ve had worse,” Clive muttered curling himself up to fit. “I’ve slept in a spacesuit on the surface of Mars. I’ve slept in a hotel bed on Tranta,” he murmured sleepily. “You have to keep a gun under your pillow to protect yourself from the roaches.”