Binary system, p.6
Binary System, page 6
She shut her mind to the thought and concentrated on climbing hand over hand, down the sheer face. As she descended, the vines became thicker and her descent a little easier; ice coated the vines, and she knew that, without her thermal suit, she would have suffered frostbite within minutes. Even with the insulating layers of her suit, an uncomfortable chill penetrated to her hands and feet.
You’re doing well, Imp reassured her.
The thought of being butchered at dawn by alien locusts does wonders for your survival instinct.
She paused to regain her breath, staring at the lattice-work before her eyes; she made out tiny creatures like silver lice scuttling for cover as her hot breath plumed towards them.
How cold is it? she asked as she resumed her descent.
Minus thirty, Imp told her.
She swore.
But it’s warming up, Imp went on.
It is?
Valinda is moving from winter to summer, remember. Five Terran years ago, in the depth of winter, when the planet was as far from its primary as it gets, I estimate the temperature for the duration of a Valindan day was minus one hundred.
But how do the Fahran and the Skelt manage to survive?
Earlier, while we were in the life-raft, Mahn told me that the Fahran migrate underground. They have vast cavern cities far below the surface, where they spend nine years at a time, coming out only for approximately ten Terran months during summer. I am speaking of the free Fahran, of course – those who dwell beyond the mountains south of here.
And the Fahran enslaved by the Skelt?
They must endure the winter above ground, in cities such as Alkellion. Many do not survive the rigours of winter, or the sadism of their masters.
And the Skelt? They can endure the winters?
Yes. They live in the cities to the north, and in the far south, all the long winter – seeking shelter below ground only when the searing summer approaches.
They descended, and Delia wondered when the climb might end.
The Skelt see the Fahran as an inferior species, Imp went on, hardly sentient, and therefore fair game. They work the Fahran to death building cities and extending roads across the face of Valinda, and they do not baulk at eating the creatures when their use for labour has ceased.
Now I understand why the Fahran are loath for advanced technology to fall into the hands of the locusts.
She paused in her descent to regain her breath. She looked left and right, then above her head. They had covered two hundred metres, though it was hard to judge precisely which of the many lighted archways above her had been her chamber. She pushed herself a little way from the wall and peered down the length of her body, beyond her feet, to Mahn. She had expected to see him far below by now, and was surprised that the tiny creature was no longer descending, but climbing towards her.
He reached out, touched her ankle, and whispered something.
Imp translated: He says you are approaching a chamber inhabited by the Skelt. You must proceed with extreme caution.
“Understood,” she whispered.
She peered down, beyond the Fahran. Three metres below Mahn, and slightly to his left, was an archway spilling yellow light into the abyss. With the light came sound: the abrasive clicking of the Skelt language and something else, a high-pitched chirruping that reminded her of the stridulation of cicadas.
Mahn had slowed his descent so that he was at her side as they approached the opening. The high, whining note, not dissimilar to a violin played by a madman, filled the night, interposed with Skelt voices.
The Fahran moved his head close to Delia’s and whispered. Imp relayed what Mahn had said. “A Skelt garrison. What you hear is their music. A battle song. They boast of defeating the massed ranks of a Vo battalion, and sing of how they will rid the world of new-born spiders when summer has passed.”
They were alongside the opening now and the sound of the roistering Skelt was deafening. She imagined a drunken locust – did they allow themselves alcohol, she wondered? – leaning from the opening and beholding her and Mahn clinging to the wall like flies.
Bile rose in her throat as her stomach rebelled. She swallowed, fighting her fear, and lowering her feet one after the other with extreme care. She was cheered by the thought that any noise they made would be drowned out by the vaunting revelry of the Skelt militia.
They passed the opening and descended more quickly. When she next looked down, Mahn was five metres below her. She looked up. Something sailed from the opening – a bone or rind, she guessed, tossed into the night by a negligent reveller.
She tried to see beyond the Fahran to the foot of the vertical drop, curious how far they might have to descend. All she could make out was an impenetrable, inky darkness, unrelieved by any illumination. Judging by the uneven surface before her, they had dropped below the foundations of the city and were descending the face of the mountain upon which Alkellion stood.
Something else indicated that they had almost finished their descent: she was assailed by a sudden stench of putrefaction from the Vo grave pit.
She looked down. Mahn had disappeared. She increased the speed of her descent, fearful that the Fahran had lost his footing and fallen. She was telling herself it was unlikely when the vine beneath her right foot gave way with a sharp crack and she pitched sideways. Her left hand slipped, and it was all she could do to hold on to the vine with her right hand. She swung like a pendulum, the vine tearing away from the cliff-face. She seemed to fall forever – though it could only have been for seconds – before something stopped her descent and gripped her midriff. Mahn steadied her, then eased her down the rest of the way until she was standing on stony ground. She arched her back and rubbed the muscles of her arms, craning her neck to make out the sheer cliff-face and the spread of stars high overhead.
Mahn indicated the line of the mountains far to the west, where the sky glowed with the coming dawn.
His thin lips worked and Imp translated: “We must hurry. Soon the Skelt will come for you and find your room empty.”
He gestured ahead, and in the dim light Delia made out the scattered expanse of Vo chitin.
“But won’t they simply follow us through the pit?”
Mahn reached out long fingers and touched her wrist. “The Skelt will not dare to follow us through the grave pit of the Vo. They are a superstitious race. They fear that the pit is haunted by the ghosts of the slaughtered Vo.”
A hundred metres to her left she made out the pier projecting into the pit, and admitted that the scene possessed a certain stark grandeur, at once alien and grotesque. This close up she saw the activity on the surface of the pit; small animals like multi-legged rats skittered amongst the debris, ducking in and out through follicles and nacelles in the chitin. She gagged on the smell and baulked at the thought of making her escape through the noxious pit.
Mahn spoke, and Imp translated: “This way.”
They advanced into the pit, ducking beneath bleached archways and descending through the obstacle course of bones. Overhead, the light of dawn filtered down through the crazed tesserae of spider-crab shells. Delia was surprised to find that, even though she was drawing deep breaths in exertion, she had already become so accustomed to the stench that it was hardly noticeable.
She followed Mahn as he climbed down through the stacked chitin, locating her footholds with care.
Once she slipped and fell, losing her grip on a bone and tumbling painfully a few metres, narrowly missing Mahn. She came to rest on her back, a jarring pain in her shoulder, and stared up through a network of spars and struts. Above her, Mahn’s head appeared over a lip of cartilage, peering down at her.
She looked right and left, wary of moving lest she fall again, but found herself sitting in the bowl of what might have been a spider-crab’s abdomen. She sat up slowly, massaging her shoulder. Mahn picked his way down on a makeshift ladder of bones and seated himself cross-legged before her.
His lips moved, issuing a series of soft, plosive sounds.
“We can rest now for a short time, if you wish.”
“That’ll be good. I need a breather.”
She pulled off her backpack and withdrew a canister of water. She took a drink; it was icy cold and refreshing. She considered passing it to Mahn, then consulted Imp on the advisability of sharing the water.
I think not. There might be contaminants that an alien metabolism would be unable to cope with.
“I’d share,” she told the Fahran, “but it might make you sick.”
The alien blinked at her. His lips moved, the clicks echoing amongst the bones.
“I understand,” Imp translated. “I will drink later, when we reach the mountains.”
Delia took another mouthful of water then stowed the canister in her pack.
After a silence, Mahn said, “You are all alone on this planet.”
“That’s right. All alone.”
“Why did you come to our world?”
“It was an accident. The vessel I was travelling on... there was an explosion. Most of my colleagues died in the blast. I... as far as I know, I am the only survivor.”
“But the vessel you came to Valinda in, the small craft?”
“When the explosion destroyed my starship, I managed to board the life-raft, the small vessel, and come to Valinda that way.”
The alien blinked. “I understand,” he said, and added, “It is an honour to be able to help you.”
She took his hand and squeezed. “It is an honour to be helped. Without you, I would be dead by now.”
“And without you... I would never have had the courage to flee my masters and leave Alkellion, even though I dreamed of doing so.”
“How long have you been there, working for the Skelt?”
“I was captured by Skelt militia just after the last Brightening...” Approximately ten Terran years ago, Imp supplied. “I was in my village, instructing novices, when the raiding party came and took me and six others. We were transported to Alkellion and given duties. With my facility for languages, I was ordered to translate for my masters.”
“What will you do now, Mahn?”
He gestured with an upturned hand. “I will return to my village. I must attend to the grave tree of my mate. You see, she was killed by the Skelt in the raid. I... I saw it happen, but I was powerless to...” He stopped, staring into space.
Delia said, “I’m sorry...”
“When I have tended the tree beneath which she sleeps for eternity, I will embark upon a Brightening pilgrimage in memory of Ahntan an Mareen, my mate.”
“Tell me about the pilgrimage,” she murmured.
“Once in a lifetime, a Fahran must make the long trek to the valley of Mahkanda, to pay respects to Chalto.”
“Chalto?”
“My god. Oh, for these long years I have looked ahead to this Brightening and wondered if I had the courage to escape from Alkellion and make the pilgrimage. You see, the Brightening is a special time, when Chalto rises from his sleep and appears before his disciples. And soon he will Rise and Appear, and I will do my best to reach the valley of Mahkanda and witness this miracle.”
She smiled. “I hope you achieve this, Mahn. How far from here is the valley of Mahkanda?”
The alien looked about him, reached out to a spar of bone like a twig and snapped it off. He tried to score a circle in the dust on a plaque of chitin between them, but failed.
Imp said, Delia, I will project a schematic of Valinda.
Do that.
While Mahn was still attempting to sketch a circle in the dust, a full-colour image of Valinda appeared in the air before him. He sat back suddenly, alarmed.
Delia said, “It’s okay. I’m doing this. It’s your world, Valinda.”
Mahn stared at the projection. “But how...?” he began.
“I have a device, a tiny machine, up here...” She tapped her forehead. “I’m projecting the image.”
Mahn walked around the floating world, staring at the projection in wonder.
“Now just point to where we are on the globe,” Delia said, “and where the valley of Mahkanda is situated.”
Tentatively Mahn reached out with a long, thin finger and pointed to the globe above the equator. “This is Alkellion. We are here.” He traced a straight line between the city and a point south of the equator. “The valley of Mahkanda is as far south of the equator as Alkellion is north of it.”
“And how far is it from here to the valley of Mahkanda?”
“Almost two thousand kilometres.”
“And how long will it take you?” she asked.
The alien regarded her impassively. “From here to here,” he said, gesturing to the equator, “perhaps a week, and the same again from the equator to Mahkanda.”
“Two weeks? But that’s impossible! You will travel two thousand kilometres in just two weeks?”
He turned his palm. “I must do this, you see. Soon the Brightening will be well underway, and Chalto will Rise and Appear. And I must be there, do you understand?”
She ordered her Imp to cease the projection, and the image of Valinda disappeared. “I understand,” she said. “And, Mahn, I will do all I can to help you on your pilgrimage.”
“You will?”
“As a small gesture of thanks for your helping me escape the Skelt,” she said. “For saving my life.”
“You will be the first alien being to witness Chalto Rise and Appear!” the Fahran carolled.
“I will be honoured,” she said. “I look forward to that. And your god, Chalto? Is he in the image of the Fahran?”
“Only the Vehren know that,” Mahn said, “those who have successfully completed the pilgrimage and returned. They do not speak of Chalto, for it is written that it is forbidden to depict images of our god, or describe his likeness. It is enough to look upon him and hear his wise words, and for evermore bask in the privilege and honour, knowing what few others know.”
An interesting belief, Delia said to Imp. I’m more than a little curious to see Chalto myself.
A little later Mahn suggested that they continue on their way. He pointed to a complex structure of bones that wound down into the shadows like a tortured ladder. “We will climb to the bottom of the pit, where it will be easier to walk towards the mountains.”
Delia shouldered her backpack and followed the alien as he descended.
Chapter Eleven
IT WAS LIKE climbing through a grotesque adventure playground, she thought, with the vista constantly changing as they dropped. Over the years the spider-crabs’ skeletons had come apart, and individual bones and shields of chitin had found their own precarious resting place. Below her, Mahn tested each strut and spar for stability before continuing. Delia was careful to follow his example.
The climb was considerably easier than the descent from the chamber; there was not the immediate fear of capture to concentrate her mind, for one thing, and the chitin offered more hand- and foot-holds than had the vines.
As they descended, the dawn light became ever fainter, casting bizarre shadows through the stacked bones. Occasional pillars of red light struck through the mass, contrasting with the shadows, and here and there the thinner bones and plaques glowed pink with transmuted light. From time to time her elbow or hip displaced a loose bone, which went rattling off into the depths of the pit.
A little later she said, Imp.
Yes.
I’ve been thinking about the Skelt. They’re a star-faring race.
Their ancestors were, Delia. The Skelt who inhabit Valinda are but a sorry remnant.
It’s perhaps as well that we’ve never encountered them in our travels among the stars.
Fortuitous, yes, but understandable. We are thousands of light years from Earth, and humankind has not explored this sector of the spiral arm.
She concentrated on lodging her foot on the upper spar of a rib-cage and lowering herself rung by rung.
She asked: Do you think that the star-faring Skelt were as... as bellicose as those of Valinda?
The likelihood is high that this is so.
In that case... it would be well if the authorities on Earth were aware of the potential threat.
Correct. However...
I know, I know. You’re going to point out, with incontrovertible machine logic, that we are in no position to alert them. Am I right?
You paraphrase my thoughts succinctly.
She smiled to herself. Down below, Mahn was hanging onto a cross-strut and staring up at her through the gloaming. When she caught up with him, he continued his descent.
But if there was some way of escaping Valinda, and getting word back to Earth...
In that case, if it were possible, we would do so. However, I advise you to concentrate your thoughts on more attainable goals, both for your peace of mind and for your more immediate welfare. There will be travails ahead which will tax your mental and physical endurance, and it is to these that we should be addressing ourselves.
Mahn called up to her. Imp relayed his words: “We have almost reached the bottom of the pit.”
A little later the tiny Fahran jumped the last metre, and turned to watch Delia negotiate the final bone-ladder and step down to join him. She looked around, and then up, in wonder. Dim shafts and beams of sunlight penetrated the confusion of spars at odd angles, reflected and refracted through the osseous canopy. A strange, aqueous light prevailed at this depth. The ground underfoot was smooth and jade green, shot through with glowing seams of silver. An intense, freezing cold struck up through the soles of her boots.
“What is it?” she asked, indicating the ground.
“Over the decades,” Mahn said, “the ichor and body fluid from the Vo has dripped to the bottom of the pit. In winter it freezes solid and forms this bed. In summer, when the sun is at its hottest, all this melts to form a terrible, disease-filled lake of putrefaction.”
He indicated ahead, and they walked side by side through the maze of bone and chitin.
