The Blood-Rage (44) Almost imperceptibly the sky began to darken. Then suddenly the sky turned almost black; and for tens of miles, a dark shadow enveloped the land. Even the far distant warriors who were searching for Darkcian became aware. Almost as one, those hundreds of warriors stopped and turned their gazes upward. What they saw burned their minds with fear, even among the bravest. The object descending toward them and Darkcian was larger than the largest starship that those who had been off-world had ever seen. It filled the sky, growing larger and larger as it descended. In sync, the sky grew darker and darker as it was blotted out. Soon Ardent was obscured too, and the darkness of night was around them. The omniscience presence of the ship extended from horizon to horizon. Darkcian mentally-heard some of the enemy scream; they obviously were thinking--as was he-- that they were going to be crushed beneath the mass of this awful thing. But most just stood silent, too awed by terror and the unbelievable size of what they saw. This thing, this monstrosity, they knew was alien. The ultimate horror had come to Agon. Not one warrior moved then. They were transfixed as living statues waiting for the end. Because of the huge mass of air the ship was displacing, it purposely descended slowly by a form of anti-gravity. Even so, the sheer volume of air being pushed aside caused a minor hurricane to occur. The wind rose to a howling crescendo, making those on the ground sway with its pressure like grass in a storm. A least a minute passed after the ship stopped descending before anyone in the desert noticed it was not coming any closer. Yet, now, Darkcian knew there was only one rational there without fear; in fact he was filled with pleasure. Hello, Night Mist, he thought at the ship, a smile splitting his face. MY COMMAND. I'M HERE. ORDER ME, thundered the voice within his head. Although partly stunned by the pure force of the mental reply, Darkcian ordered: Take me up into you. YOUR ORDER IS MY REALITY. COME TO ME. As he dissolved into a beam of energy that shot up into the ship, he was filled with the sudden joy of understanding. He existed as a sphere of complex, oscillating energy. Some of the frequencies were beyond his ability to analyze. Others were of pure coherent light that flashed in from every direction. Sometimes he seemed to detect a pattern, but mostly it was chaotic. His senses started to change, expanding beyond his ability to integrate them. All energy wavelengths were perceivable. In one glance--which was not a glance in the traditional sense, but more of a mental awareness--he perceived the entire ship and was stunned. He felt his sanity slip and rejected most of what he was seeing in order to try and regain it. At the center of this fifty-mile-long ship, running from stem to stern, was the essence of an energy type similar to his own mental matrix, yet in other ways different, very different. This was Night Mist, the heart of the behemoth ship, its mind, and its control. It was pure, complex energy. It was alien, so alien . . . yet rational like himself. It was sentient, alive. The ship was a living thing! It was too much to comprehend. He felt small in its presence, an insignificant pinpoint of intelligence in the presence of an infinite one. It was too much to see such pure rationality. He retreated into his own essence, trying to escape. But even here, his own being was expanding beyond his ability to comprehend it. He wanted to hold on to something and stop this rush to a dimension without any familiarity. But he couldn't grasp anything solid for all was energy, and he no longer had hands, feet, and body. This last realization overwhelmed him with sorrow, and he wished to be solid again, to be human. Almost simultaneous with this thought, he felt a change within the energy sphere that comprised himself. Vortexes were forming. And within these vortexes other vortexes whirled into existence. Soon there were thousands of them, then millions, then billions, and then beyond all counting. At the vanishing point of each vortex there slowly formed an atom. Then the atoms formed together, attaching and spinning in an unrecognizable way. Out of the sphere of energy his original body formed, shimmering at first, and then becoming solid, real. The familiar was with him again and, he sighed with relief. YOU'RE NOT READY TO UNDERSTAND IT ALL YET. RETREAT TO WITHIN YOURSELF. FIND YOUR CENTER. YES, THAT'S IT. He breathed deeply. God of Life, he thought, it feels good to be real again. Where am I? He was floating, or so it appeared, in a sea of liquid energy. The whirling lights around him were confusing. YOU ARE WITHIN THE SHIP, WITHIN ME, IF YOU WILL. What are you? A STARSHIP. You're alive! YES. How can that be? You aren't flesh and blood, not even organic. I'M ENERGY, COMPLEX, MULTIDIMENSIONAL ENERGY. Like the Star Wanderer's battle computers? NO. I'M SELF-DIRECTING, INDEPENDENT, AND ALIVE. I don't understand how that can be. He shook his head. Who made you? YOU MADE ME. He was stunned to mental silence for a long time. Finally: You mean before I lost my memory? YES. Then . . . I once was able to understand all this? OF COURSE. I've lost more than I can even conceive of losing. AT THIS POINT IN YOUR TRAINING, YES. Training? THIS PLANET, AGON, WAS CHOSEN BY ME TO BE THE CRUCIBLE TO MOLD YOU BACK INTO WHAT YOU WERE. THIS IS YOUR TRAINING GROUND TO UNDERSTAND A SMALL PORTION OF WHAT YOU WILL NEED TO LEARN IN ORDER TO SURVIVE AMONG THOSE WHO TOOK YOUR MEMORY. HERE, YOU WILL LEARN WHAT IT IS TO BE HUMAN. OR YOU WILL DIE. Hundreds of questions flowed into his mind. You're the one who put me here? This is a school? Who are those who took my memory and why? SLOWLY. ONE AT A TIME. YOU CANNOT THINK IN MULTI- DIMENSIONS YET. Who were those who took my memory? YOUR OWN PEOPLE. Why? YOU AREN'T READY FOR THAT YET. All right. Why here? Why this planet of pain? YOU MUST UNDERSTAND ALL OF THE ASPECTS OF SURVIVAL IF SOMEDAY YOU ARE TO DO BATTLE WITH YOUR OWN KIND. THIS IS THE START. Yet you implied that I could die here. What good would that do? If I die, wouldn't that defeat your stated purpose of trying to educate me to some desired level? Why can't you protect me and others that I care about? Take us to some other planet. OTHERS DON'T CONCERN ME IN THE WAY THAT YOU DO. SOMEDAY I WILL EXPLAIN THAT MORE FULLY. AS TO YOUR SURVIVAL, NO TRAINING IS WORTHWHILE IF IT'S NOT REAL. THE ACCEPTANCE OF REALITY IS THE MOST IMPORTANT FEATURE OF SURVIVAL. THEREFORE, LOGIC DICTATES THAT THE DANGER MUST BE REAL. AND THIS, IN TURN, IMPLIES THAT YOU COULD DIE. IN FACT, YOU PROBABLY WILL. THIS PLANET IS VERY, VERY DANGEROUS. THAT'S WHY I PICKED IT. YOU WILL LEARN THE LESSONS THAT I WISH YOU TO LEARN OR YOU WILL DIE. IT'S A SIMPLE CONCEPT. I WANT YOU TO PROGRESS IN A CERTAIN DIRECTION SO STRONGLY THAT I'M WILLING TO RUN A LARGE RISK THAT YOU WON'T LIVE TO MAKE IT. Who are you to dictate to me, to force me into this test of survival? Why can't I be free? I don't have to be what you want me to be. After all, you're a machine. I'M NOT A MACHINE IN THE SENSE THAT YOU THINK. IT WILL BE A LONG TIME BEFORE YOU ARE ABLE TO UNDERSTAND WHAT I AM, IF EVER. BUT BE CLEAR ON ONE THING, I'M SO FAR ABOVE YOU IN RATIONALITY AND INTELLIGENCE AS YOU ARE ABOVE THE INSECTS OF THIS PLANET. IT WILL BE A LONG TIME BEFORE YOU ARE ABLE TO EVEN APPROACH ME AS AN EQUAL. AS TO YOUR BEING FREE, YOU ARE . . . IN A WAY. YOU MAY DO ANYTHING YOU WISH WHILE UPON THIS PLANET, EVEN DIE. THE ONLY THING YOU'RE NOT FREE TO DO IS TO LEAVE AGON . . . YET. AS TO MY RIGHT TO DICTATE ALL OF THIS, I DO SO BECAUSE YOU ARE A CHILD, AND I'M YOUR FATHER-TEACHER; AND YOU WILL GROW, OR I'LL GIVE YOU UP AS A FAILURE. YOU WILL BECOME WHAT YOU ONCE WERE--AND MORE--OR YOU WILL PERISH. YOU WILL UNDERGO THESE TESTS BECAUSE YOU HAVE NO OTHER CHOICE. THIS PLANET WILL BE ADAPTED TO OR ELSE. I WON'T HAVE SOMEONE TRAVEL TO THE END OF THE UNIVERSE WITH ME WHO ISN'T MY EQUAL. End of the universe? Silence! He quickly began to scheme, to form some kind of plan against this . . . thing. Just as quickly he stopped, thinking: I can't plan secretly against this entity; it can read my every thought! OF COURSE. BUT YOU CAN STOP THAT IF YOU WISH. I WON'T LISTEN TO YOUR THOUGHTS WITHOUT PERMISSION. TELL ME TO LEAVE YOUR MIND, AND I WILL. How can I ever know that? A creature of your power could listen without my knowing, as you have been doing since my awakening. YES, BUT I WOULDN'T LISTEN, IF THAT'S YOUR WISH. But how can I trust that? TRUST IS A FEELING OF CONFIDENCE BASED ON A CONSISTENCY OF BEHAVIOR THAT KNOWS NO CONTRADICTIONS. IN HUMANS IT'S A PROCESS THAT TAKES TIME. WITH ENTITIES SUCH AS MYSELF, IT MERELY TAKES THIS. Suddenly Darkcian's mind was merged with the other's. At the same time, the thing gripped his ability to feel fear, a restriction of his ability to act upon his own emotions. He was then made to look at the other's concept of integrity. It was alien! It would have driven him insane if his ego had been completely free. As it was, it almost killed him with an enormous feeling of unworthiness, so low was he as compared to this thing. He was so insignificant. Inferior! This thing was a God! NOT A GOD. I JUST THINK IN A DIFFERENT WAY. SOMEDAY, IF YOU LIVE THROUGH THE HELLS THAT I'M GOING TO PUT YOU THROUGH, YOU WILL UNDERSTAND ME. THERE'S NO HURRY. I CAN WAIT . . . FOREVER. TIME CARRIES NO BURDEN TO THOSE WHO CAN CREATE THEIR OWN EQUALS, JUST AS YOU ONCE CREATED ME. The thing released him and gave him back his fear, fear like none he had ever felt before, fear like a merger with death. SURVIVE OR GO INSANE. IF YOU DO THE LATTER, I'LL DISCARD YOU AND CREATE SOMETHING ELSE. That seemingly uncaring thought made Darkcian so angry it drove the fear down into some remote corner of his mind. You alien piece of shit, he thought to the ship. If I do, someday, become your equal, I'm going to destroy you. THAT'S BETTER, MUCH BETTER. Somehow, not fully understood by Darkcian, there were some overtones, sub-frequencies of strange emotions from the creature-ship-thing, that conveyed a deep feeling of satisfaction. THINK BACK TO YOUR EARLIER QUESTION. DO YOU TRUST ME NOW? Darkcian shook his head in wonder. Whatever else this thing was, it wasn't deceitful. It had no need to be. It could get what it wanted without subterfuge. But more than that, he just knew this thing wasn't going to lie to him. All right. What more do you want of me? I understand that I must survive on my own, that you will not interfere with any danger I may encounter in the future, that I am to grow--whatever that means--into a more superior being . . . no human. Further, I understand that you put me here on this insane planet; and if I'm to get off, I must somehow find my own way to do it. YES. YOU UNDERSTAND MOST OF IT. LATER, IF YOU SURVIVE, THERE WILL BE MORE. THE ODDS FOR THAT ARE LOW, HOWEVER, FOR THE-LONG-DAY-BEFORE-SUMMER IS COMING, AND THIS PLANET WILL PROBABLY KILL YOU THEN. TIME WILL TELL. TIME SIFTS ALL THINGS INTO TWO CATEGORIES: THOSE THAT FOLLOW AN INCREASE IN ENTROPY AND THOSE THAT FOLLOW A DECREASE IN ENTROPY. LIFE OR DEATH. THE COMPLEX OR THE SIMPLE. ORDER OR CHAOS. You think like the warriors of this planet. They, too, put things into such simple definitions. The ship-thing didn't answer. After a long pause, he asked: Where have you been these last sixty days while I've been trying to survive on this planet of death? I HAD BEEN WAITING IN THE CENTER OF FRIOSAN. How is that possible? That's an environment of a hundred million degrees in temperature. You would have been destroyed. Again, the ship-creature did not answer. Darkcian snorted his frustration. I DON'T ANSWER STUPID QUESTIONS. I DON'T LIE. I WAS IN THE CENTER OF FRIOSAN. I WASN'T DESTROYED. All right. I'll rephrase the question. How did you survive the tremendous temperature of that sun? THAT WAS MUCH BETTER. HOWEVER, THE ANSWER IS TOO COMPLEX FOR YOU TO UNDERSTAND AT THIS TIME. Darkcian felt the frustration rise anew, but he quickly put restraint upon it, thinking: This is a literal creature without humor or patience. NOT TRUE. I'M MERELY TRYING TO MAKE YOU THINK IN CLEARER TERMS. AND I HAVE AN INFINITE AMOUNT OF PATIENCE. Get out of my mind! I'll think toward you when I wish to communicate! AS YOU WISH. The thought's overtones appeared to be calm to Darkcian. I wonder if this thing has an ego? Silence. Changing direction suddenly, Darkcian thought-asked to Night Mist: Am I a Wist? NO. YOU'RE MUCH MORE. What? NOT YET. Damn. Silence. I wish to leave this . . . whatever it is. I'M A STARSHIP. I want to leave you. I prefer Agon. At least its cruelty is not on purpose. SO BE IT. WHEN WE MEET AGAIN, IT WILL BE FOR THE NEXT PHASE OF YOUR TRAINING. Or not at all, for I'll be dead. YES, OF COURSE. Suddenly he felt strange again, disembodied, his sight a kaleidoscope of colors. And then . . . Agon materializing around him . . . the desert, the pink horizon, the dark shadow of the ship above. Immediately he noticed that the huge missile-shaped craft was starting to rise, slowly at first, then faster and faster. The wind started to howl again, as it rushed in to replace the vacuum caused by the ship's departure. He, like the others--the Agonian warriors miles away who hunted him--stood in utter awe and merely watched as the behemoth climbed out of sight. The light of day resumed to bathe those below in its unmerciful heat. And the thirst returned to Darkcian. The words of Gravestone came to him then: "One must not stand still on Agon. Survival is enhanced only for those who move." And so he did. His thoughts returned to his teachers. There was a link between them and Night Mist. Gravestone and Patra were important to the ship, he thought in a sudden revelation. Night Mist is complex beyond my knowing, intelligent in a way that I may never comprehend. And a high intelligence wouldn't do something in a random way. For example, it wouldn't have put me down on Agon in a random spot. It put me down where it did so that the Kalts would find me. Why? Why are the Kalts special? It chose them as my teachers on purpose. Why? Think, think! He started a comparing process. How were they different from other Agonians? And then it came to him. They weren't restrictive in the scope of their ability to change. That's it! He got excited. Other Agonians are extremely adaptive at change within a clearly defined sphere, the sphere of the dangers presented by this planet's changing seasons. The other Agonians even worship their own ability to adapt . . . but only to the known threats of the seasons and each season's particular predators. So intent are they to maintain this adaptability, they won't change how it is, the way, that they adapt. They operate in a closed system of beliefs and actions that optimize their survival within the system but not without. They don't have a global view! Puncture the closed system by introducing an unknown factor, and they'll be for a loss as to a solution. In such a case, they would simply fall back to only what they know best: to kill the unknown factor. Gravestone and Patra, on the other hand, can peel away the shell of the closed system and look beyond. They have, in essence, expanded the size of their shell to include more than just what is familiar on Agon. Hence, they were the only Agonians at the council meeting who expressed a willingness to change, to embrace a new concept. That's why they could take me in, an outsider, to nourish and teach and, yes, love. YOU APPROACH THE TRUTH. WHAT LESSON IS THERE HERE FOR YOU? The sense of the inner-voice didn't surprise him this time. He answered mentally: To expand the shell of the closed system like the Kalts . . . no, to expand it even farther. Silence! He knew by now the meaning of that: disapproval. To have no shell. A feeling of praise came from Night Mist. But . . . to have no shell or limit to one's perspective means an infinite view of things. OF COURSE. Of course? What kind of an answer is that? What you purpose is impossible, God-like. THE ONES WHO TOOK YOUR MEMORY COULD DO IT. They were Gods? NO, THEY WERE NOT. Confusion, heavy like a weighted mass, seeped into his brain. Stop it, he said to himself. There's no profit in despair. GOOD, Night Mist said with what seemed to be genuine sorrow. YOU DID PROFIT FROM KNOWING ERENDRIA AFTER ALL. AND PERHAPS LATER, WHEN THERE IS LESS DANGER, YOU'LL WONDER WHY I GAVE YOU SULAMITH. Then he was alone again. And the others behind him shook off their fear to take up the hunt once more.
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Copyright © 1992 L Clayton Bennett |