A Psilent Place Below

1. Enoch

WHETHER IT WAS THE HEADWIND or the constant awareness that their lives were dependent on the oppsuits Dirck didn’t know, only that it seemed farther to the cave than he remembered. He’d previously used about three hours’ worth of air, leaving seven more, which gave him a little latitude in finding Enoch, but not much.

Without the light-sensitive visor the glare would have been blinding. Even with its assistance, it was brutally bright, Zeta high above their head and Zinni lurking just below the horizon. One or the other was in the sky constantly, one rising as the other set, leaving little respite for anything unfortunate enough to be on the surface below. The terrain was noticeably different that the first time he’d made the trek with his brother, what seemed so long ago; more barren and desolate, vegetation brown and shrivelled up, blasted beyond its ability to recover. Even the spickle tree was withered, but they gave it wide berth nonetheless. There was no sign of life, in the sky or on the ground, the perpetual brown haze thick with heat waves casting shiny illusions in the dust. Yet if death was imminent, he felt less disturbed by that than its vision.

When was the last time you saw Enoch? he asked, looking down at his younger brother, Deven, beside him, the boy's head barely reaching Dirck's elbow.

The boy kept his eyes on the path ahead, answer so long in coming he was beginning to wonder if his helmet radio was malfunctioning in the excessive heat.

Not since they took ‘Merapa away, Deven answered finally, his young voice strangely hollow in the helmet’s speaker.

That’s over four months ago, he replied, somewhat surprised. Why so long?

Deven’s shrug was but a shadow within the darkened visor. I wasn’t supposed to go alone and you were busy. Then it got too hot. And I really didn’t want to, anyway.

Why not?

Because it would make him sad to know I was unhappy.

His younger brother never failed to amaze him. That kind of consideration was something Dirck wouldn’t have thought of in a thousand years. He wondered if Enoch had missed him or wondered where his little human friend had gone after visiting regularly for so long. On the other hand, maybe Enoch was gone, too. For all he knew, bnolar were migratory and hundreds of kilometers away by now, one way of surviving Cyraria’s insidious climate.

Neither he nor Deven had been inside the cave by the sulfur pools. There was no way of knowing how deep it was or whether it was cool enough, much less sufficiently spacious, for their family to weather out Opposition. At this point, his only source of optimism was how the idea had come.

Unless the entire episode had been no more than a hallucination.

Suddenly, the sulfur pools were before them, oppsuits sparing them the odor. The p-crawler across the cave’s entrance had broken up and blown away, much as it had from the ballome, leaving no more than a bare, gaping hole. Deven walked over by the pool where they’d first found the wiittiins. The water level was down, steam minimal, its muddy surface boiling harder than before in the relentless heat.

What do you think we should do? Dirck asked, squinting into the cave’s entrance. It was dark and still with no visible sign of habitation.

Deven kicked at the sand, face invisible. I don't know.

Think we should just go in?

His brother shook his head, then suddenly laughed. It’s okay. He’s coming.

A moment later, Enoch appeared a few steps within the opening, barely visible as a shadow beckoning them to enter. Dirck paused just inside while his eyes adjusted and the oppsuit visor cleared, then he approached the massive creature, his brother already greeting his friend with a hug. The bnolar took Deven’s oppsuited hands in two of his own and spoke something in his strange dialect of clicks and other sounds barely audible to Dirck’s external microphone pickup. Enoch’s deep-set eyes, usually shrouded by multiple lids, were visible for the first time as brilliant silver orbs which peered at Deven’s visor as if they could see within. From his brother’s side of the conversation Dirck figured out they’d been expected, that Enoch already knew about ‘Merapa and was deeply concerned. He even sensed a gentle admonition that they’d waited so long to ask for help.

Then the bnolar motioned with one of his six arms for them to follow and proceeded back into the cavity, his massive tail lilting back and forth as he proceeded slowly into the depths. Windswept stone the same reddish hue as outside gradually resolved around him, its height disguised by persistent darkness. As they proceeded down the single pathway, it turned abruptly then started a gentle decline, Enoch’s huge form blocking any view of what lay ahead. The dim light faded even further with each step, Dirck wondering nervously if the bnolar navigated in the dark through some means other than vision, which wouldn’t be surprising given their powers of perception. Living in total darkness for several weeks definitely didn’t sound very appealing. To his relief, he perceived faint but familiar fuzzy light up ahead where luma lit the way, not just branches, but entire plants, living in hollowed-out sections within the walls. When they’d progressed a short distance down the well-trodden path Deven stopped.

Help me take off my helmet, Dirck. Enoch said we’re safe now.

Dirck strained unsuccessfully in the dim light to see the temperature indicator on his wrist. Let me, first, he responded, taking off his gloves to unlatch his own. The seal released with a whisper of released pressure and he lifted it slowly, waiting for an inrush of hot air, surprised when it was cooler than within the oppsuit. He smiled and nodded, helping his brother with the latch as the boy returned his smile, brown eyes sparkling for the first time in recent memory.

This is great, Deven said, still grinning as he shook his ever-unruly dark hair from his eyes.

So far, Dirck agreed, carrying Deven’s helmet for him as they advanced deeper into the cavern. Fear and tension retreated, leaving him more relaxed than he’d felt for a long time, probably since finding out they were leaving Mira III. The sense of peace was in such sharp contrast to what he’d grown accustomed to that he wondered if perhaps he was delusional, possibly due to lack of oxygen or some strange gas emanating from the stone surrounding them.

A bit farther down, the dimly lit passage split into four different paths. Without hesitation Enoch continued forward into the second from the right. The path still descended, slightly steeper than before and a bit less worn, luma casting subtle light along the way resulting in eerie shadows on the bulging stone surrounding them. Another turn and the tunnel expanded and changed textures, tendrils of frozen rock dripping from massive walls on either side. The stone appeared to be changing color from the surface’s orangey hue to a yellowish grey which, rather than distressed with rough grooves gouged by sand-laden wind, was smooth and slightly shiny. He paused a moment to touch it, wondering if it had been eroded by water or possibly volcanic action when the planet itself formed.

The tunnel widened slightly, walls yielding to stacks of melted limestone fashioned into heavy columns that disappeared in the darkness far above. The path twisted and turned, ever downward, widening occasionally to several meters across, sides covered with molded stone frozen in time. Nooks and crannies abounded, each with its own character from its parent formations. Eventually, the pathway opened on a massive cavern and the harsh brutality of the parched wilderness they’d left behind evaporated like a bad dream.

Delicate pillars knotted with shades of pink supported a sculpted ceiling occulted by shadows. Winged cornices and ribboned ledges distilled over time spanned the walls, some veiled with flowstone that dribbled to the floor. A huge phosphorescent mass towered beside him, surface sparkling with an odd internal light. Water gurgled from the darkness to their left where a small stream coursed its way deeper into the cavern. Dirck crouched down and scooped some up, noted it was odorless and tasted it cautiously. It was cool and sweet.

He stood once more, flooded with a strange sense of nostalgia. This was home. It was everything Mira III had attempted to be, yet never was. It was where they belonged, always had. Relief swept over him, heart brimming with gratitude for the marvelous occurrences that had brought them there, their own vain attempts to conquer their environment no more than mockery in the face of nature.

Enoch paused, letting them take in the beauty and serenity. Another swell of gratitude rose in his heart, replacing the desperate pleading that had occupied it a short time before. After a while, they continued down another passage to the left, then into a large antechamber. Three separate compartments branched off the main grotto, plus a smaller one with a pool and waterfall, nature's answer to a sanicube. The soft, iridescent glow of luma illuminated each room with bowlbush hulls suspended above to darken them as desired. Deven grinned as Enoch spoke with him again.

This is ours, Deven explained, dark eyes shining with his usual optimism. They’ve been expecting us and this is where we can stay.

Thank you, Dirck said, not knowing whether or not the bnolar would understand. You’re very kind. We owe you our lives.

Enoch’s silver eyes emanated concern and hospitality which were almost tangible. Yet Dirck suspected this unimposing creature would have never compelled help upon them, instead awaiting their request. He thought about the events of the day which had led them there, the frantic sense of doom and futility. For all their hard work, risk and ingenuity in trying to secure the ballome, all they really ever needed to do was come here. He thought back to Win’s frantic reaction at the heat exchanger’s demise, which contrasted so sharply with his cold, determined evasion of the patrol veke several weeks before. His friend was certainly full of surprises. And then, as if he could still see Win’s fearful expression, his serenity shattered with the sudden realization that time was passing at a far different pace back at the ballome.

I’ll go back and get them, if you like, so you can stay here with Enoch, Dirck suggested. No sense dragging you all the way back there.

Don’t you need help with our supplies or anything? Deven asked.

I don’t think so. We have enough genour for the rest of Opposition, plus we’ll bring some bowlbush, but that’s about it. That and a few other supplies, maybe our cyllmats. Everything ought to fit in the boxcart. There’s water here, so we don’t have to worry about that. It’s perfect. He smiled. ’Merama won’t want to go back to the ballome after this.

Deven grinned. Me, either. And I’ll be able to visit plenty with Enoch now.

Dirck followed the bnolar back to the entrance, impatience stirring at his slow lumbering pace along a distance that seemed much longer than when they’d arrived. At a certain point, long before outside light became visible, the heat increased rapidly and he reset his helmet. Moments later, harsh light from the entrance replaced the dim light. He thanked Enoch and continued on, squinting as the glare outside assaulted his eyes. He waited for his visor to adjust, anxiety resuming as he began the long trek back.

The stark wasteland seemed even more harsh and unyielding compared to what he’d just left behind, a world within a world. He walked and walked, continually expecting to see the ballome over the next rise. A surge of adrenaline suggested that perhaps he was lost, then diminished when he spotted some familiar stone pillars and the withered spickle tree. When he finally reached the ballome, he knocked at the back door, unable to palm in with the oppsuit glove. Win opened it a moment later, suited up.

It’s about time! Where’ve you been? he demanded, even more provoked than when he’d left.

At the harsh greeting Dirck raised his eyebrows invisibly inside his helmet. Can I come in? he said calmly.

Win stepped aside, door dropping back into place as ‘Merama joined them, likewise suited up.

Where’s Deven? she asked, anxiously looking behind him.

I told him to stay there, Dirck replied. Everything’s fine. Better than I expected. They were essentially waiting for us. Did you get some supplies together? Win motioned toward the boxcart, genour and a few bowlbushes balanced on top of various other supplies.

What about water? Win asked.

There’s plenty in the cave. Running water, actually, better than ours. Bring our cyllmats, though. And some covers. It’s actually quite cool there.

After gathering both from their respective sleeprooms, they rolled them up and stuffed them in the corners of the cart. After that, they spent a few minutes glancing around to see if there was anything else they should bring along. The ballome was relatively empty since Win had taken quite a few things down to the safe. He’d covered them with plastic, then put a few boxcarts of dirt on top for protection from both heat and discovery.

Satisfied there was nothing more to be done, they departed, securing the door behind them. Dirck towed the boxcart, not saying much about the caverns so they could enjoy the surprise. He could hardly wait to see their faces. They kept a slow, untiring pace, boxcart bumping along behind. The terrain changed, now columned with rock formations.

Tell me what these creatures are like, ‘Merama asked.

They’re the strangest aliens I’ve ever seen, he answered evasively.

What do you mean? Win interrupted. Stranger than Crjlx-IM?

Erebusites are humanoid. The bnolar aren’t even close.

Like jendaks? ‘Merama suggested.

No. There’s no comparison. They’re smarter and gentler than any being I’ve ever encountered. They don’t have any technology, at least that I know of. But they have awesome communication skills.

Can you understand them, like Deven? ‘Merama asked.

No. At least not yet. I can feel their emotions, but can’t translate them into words like Deven can. But I can definitely sense there isn’t a hostile cell in their entire body.

How do you know? Win asked, frowning. What do they look like, anyway?

Dirck laughed, knowing he’d have a mutiny on his hands if he went any further, even if he could begin to describe them. You’re just going to have to wait and see.

They walked several meters of dusty ground in silence only broken by the muffled sound of wheels scraping dry dirt accented by the bump of an occasional rock.

I don’t like this, Win finally muttered.

Dirck shrugged indifferently inside his helmet, tiring of his friend’s persistent negativity. You’re welcome to stay in the ballome if you’d prefer, he said. Win glared at him long and hard, but withheld further complaint.

When they reached the cave, Dirck hesitated, not sure whether to proceed or wait for a welcoming committee. Any introductions held volatile potential he didn’t look forward to. He was confident his mother’s reaction would be favorable, but he had no idea about Win. He stood inside the entrance out of Zeta’s scorching light, wondering what to do, when the distinct impression to keep moving seized his mind.

C’mon, he said, waving them on. I know the way. His mother and Win exchanged glances and followed.

As the light faded, Win stopped abruptly. Hey, he said. Don’t tell me it’s pitch black in there.

Nope, Dirck replied, continuing down the path without hesitation, eyes already on the first luma. He could hear Win’s and his mother’s footsteps slow down, then resume a normal pace once they saw it, too.

When he reached the place where the cool of the caverns commenced, Dirck stopped to remove his helmet and shut down the oppsuit. ‘Merama and Win hesitated as he had initially, then followed his example, commenting on the comfortable, humid air. Win’s breathing was a little heavier than necessary given their easy pace, punctuating his claustrophobic expression. Dirck smiled to himself, anticipating their next reaction as they continued down the luma-lit passage. They reached where the dirt corridor split in four and he directed them the way Enoch had taken earlier. His mother and Win slowed as dirt yielded to rock and took graceful form around them.

It’s beautiful, ‘Merama commented.

Dirck grinned, knowing they hadn’t seen anything yet. He led them down the final approach laced with paralyzed stone, bracing his steps and the boxcart against the grade.

We’re almost there, he said, smiling as he caught his mother’s eye.

When they reached the cavern, he stepped aside to watch their reaction. ‘Merama's expression was one of uncontained delight. She turned slowly, green eyes wide with child-like wonder, as she absorbed the magnitude of natural artistry on all sides: the vaulted ceiling, twisting spirals, glittering crystals, the rippled walls of translucent dripstone. She loved it, he could tell, and his earlier impression that they were home returned, stronger than ever.

Oh, Dirck, she whispered, overwhelmed. This is incredible!

And then there was Win, eyes wide and mouth open in the state of shock. He didn’t like surprises, Dirck knew that, even pleasant ones. Control, prediction and detailed plans, the farther in advance the better, were more his style. In Win’s mind, unexpected situations were hostile, period.

Why didn’t you tell us about this? he gasped, long hair flopping from one side to the other as he looked in every direction.

It was a little hard to describe, Dirck replied, trying not to smile.

It’s beautiful, ‘Merama said. I’m glad you didn’t. It’s a wonderful surprise, compared to outside. It’s like we’re in another world. In fact, it feels like we’re home.

I think maybe we are, Dirck agreed.

Win looked more apprehensive than ever, shoulders bent as if anticipating an attack. A sudden appearance from Enoch and he’d be impaled on a stalactite. But somehow Dirck knew, not thought, but knew, the bnolar wouldn’t show until Win could handle it.

Hey, over here! Deven called from down the path. Hi, ‘Merama, hi, Win. Come see our grotto. His mother started toward him along the path.

How could you leave him here like that? Win hissed.

Dirck turned and took him firmly by the shoulders as he met his fear-constricted blue eyes. What’s your problem, anyway? We’re fine here, safer than the ballome. We have shelter and food and running water. Chill, will you?

Win jerked away and met his gaze. I just don’t like this place, that’s all, he replied. It gives me the creeps.

Dirck rolled his eyes and continued on, easing their belongings in the boxcart over the stony path.

With the equivalent of three sleeprooms to choose from, everyone still paired up as before. Dirck wouldn’t have minded one to himself, but also expected, judging by his behavior, that Win wouldn’t want to be alone. Dirck doffed the rest of his oppsuit, then smoothed his cyllmat on the gritty floor, wondering what it would be like if Win deorbited completely. Undoubtedly not a pretty sight.

By the time they’d finished unpacking, it was dinner time. ‘Merama sliced up some bowlbush with the genour and everyone got a cool drink from the waterfall. There’d been no sign of Enoch, much as Dirck had expected. While they ate and for some time afterwards, the four sat on the floor in what they named the Great Room and talked. By then, Win had calmed down quite a bit. He’d finally admitted he didn’t do well with the thought of being underground, but was getting used to it, his usual demeanor gradually returning.

The conversation turned to those not present and speculations of how the two absent family members would have reacted.

Creena would love it, ‘Merama stated. There are plenty of places where she could be by herself when she wanted and all sorts of areas to explore.

Yeah, like she did on the Aquarius, Dirck thought, but knew better than to say it aloud.

As a terralogist, ‘Merapa would love it, too, he said. He could see the internal structure of the planet first hand, rather than having to guess or use tomography.

Unless it reminded him of prison, Win added, undoubtedly a subtle allusion to his own impression, but Dirck threw him a dirty look at the unwanted reminder.

After that, with mixed thoughts of luck and misfortune, they each retired, Dirck covering the luma with its bowlbush cover, then laying there listening to the peaceful cadence of their resident waterfall. Another sound caught his attention, a soft scraping, and he opened his eyes, straining to see in the impenetrable darkness, utterly foreign after Opposition’s endless days. Win’s silhouette gradually resolved in the luma’s occulted light, noise now recognizable as a cyllmat being dragged in his direction.

Dirck closed his eyes and tried not to laugh. Win, the dauntless rebel who’d dodged lasoclear blasts without a flinch and thought nothing of invading highly classified government records with treasonous intent, was afraid of the dark.

The human mind is an amazing thing, he thought. Still smiling, he gradually drifted off to sleep.

2. Visions

AUGUSTUS TROY'S OFFICE ON Cyraria was a lot different than the luxurious one he had onboard the Aquarius. Located mid-depth in the Territorial Tower in Cira City, it was spacious but spartan, the workdeck and fixtures government issue. The windowless walls were dulled by dust and littered with plaques bearing a holographic image of the Epsilon territorial crest. His uniform was black as before, plain except for green bars on his shoulders, with no collar, and no hat. He rocked back in his chair, hands folded on his chest with his heartless eyes riveted on the holographic image before him. He was logged into the PLED, the Planetary Law Enforcement Database, which contained the criminal records of everyone on the planet.

Across from him sat ‘Merapa, straight in his chair with arms folded, expression blank, other than a hint of impatience lurking around eyes rimmed with dark circles. His hair was over his ears and streaked with grey. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. The prison uniform was drab green, too short, and baggy through the shoulders. He’d lost weight, lots of it, and his color bore a strong resemblance to the clothes.

I hope you realize, Brightstar, that if you’d taken better care of my TL-87 we wouldn’t be having this conversation, Troy said. Furthermore, you accessed sensitive information. Looks to me like it’s either sign up or a one way warp run to Bezarna. It’s all up to you.

The room was warm, but not hot, the air charged. Troy studied his prisoner, reached over and opened a bin in his desk where he removed some Lemitini. He proceeded to unwrap it slowly, peeling back each fold with careful, deliberate motions as if to emphasize its value and the fact he could enjoy such luxuries.

I could use someone of your caliber in my organization, he said, then, looking ‘Merapa straight in the eye, broke off a piece of the prized morsel and popped it in his mouth, closing his eyes and savoring its tantalizing flavor dramatically before continuing.

And it won’t stop here, he went on finally. This is but child’s play. Going through the motions for appearances, that sort of thing. But not for long. He folded his arms and set his gaze once more on his captive. You won’t be bothered with political worries, though. That’s my department. But the planet, quite literally, will be yours. Challenges and opportunities beyond your wildest dreams.

‘Merapa’s expression hadn’t changed, the same look of detachment, even disinterest, lining his features, though his overall countenance was gaunt with strain.

You could move your family into a roomy subterre, here in the City. No more dirt, heat, all that physical labor business. A proper education for your children, a well-deserved social life for your bondling. Everything you expected when you came to this forsaken place. Troy leaned forward, searching his eyes. Interested?

‘Merapa didn’t hesitate. No.

Troy leaned back and raised his eyebrows. I’ll give you more time to think about it, if you’d like. Would you like to reconsider?

Silence.

I’ll make it worth it, for you and your family.

Still silence.

You’re a bit less talkative than onboard the Aquarius, aren’t you? he taunted. These charges are rather serious, you know. Attaindered prisoners don’t warrant a trial. Troy picked up the last piece of Lemitini, held it out as a final taunting gesture, then shrugged and took a long, careful bite, which he savored as before. When his eyes opened they were cold and hard.

Nice knowing you, Brightstar, he snarled. Next ship to Bezarna is in a week. He palmed the side of his desk to summon a guard. Within moments, the door dissolved and a commando appeared.

I’ll be sure your family is properly notified, Troy went on, voice bearing a razor’s edge. In fact, maybe I’ll do it personally. I do believe I’d like to meet your bondling.

The chronometer on the wall read E-59.

Dirck bolted awake, confused by the dark and the cool sound of water. He sat up slowly, drenched in a cold sweat, gradually remembering where he was amid the lingering smell of Lemitini and the heat from Troy’s office. He got up quietly to get a drink, then sat in the pale light of the great room’s single uncovered luma, trying to shake the image and effects of the dream.

He covered his face, pressed his fingers to his eyes, but the picture remained, undarkened. If only his father wasn’t so stubborn. If only he’d listened. Then he wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place. As always, blaming didn’t work. Any vestige of anger that had survived the transition to the cave evaporated, like a splash of icy water. While still elusive, understanding his father’s motives had been glimpsed, except the plane was higher than his reach. Somehow his father had done it for them, not to them. By not compromising his principles, he’d given them everything, in spite of the consequences. But honor at what price?

The soft shuffle of footsteps sounded from his mother’s sleeproom and a moment later she was beside him, trembling. She’d had the same dream. He just knew it. Like he knew Enoch wouldn’t make any sudden appearances.

What’s going on? he thought. There’s something weird about this place, even weirder than Win can imagine.

There’s a lot more he hasn’t told me, isn’t there? ‘Merama asked softly. Dirck nodded. They discussed their respective dreams only long enough to determine they’d been identical. We have to do something, she said. Before that meeting happens.

How?

I don’t know. But someone or something does. We’ve been taken care of so far. And whoever or whatever it is certainly knows how to help your father.

But it’s already E-74! We only have fifteen days!

‘Merama got up, expression unreadable. If that meeting takes place, he’ll be sent to Bezarna. As you surely know, no one can come back from a blackhole. If we weren’t supposed to intervene, we wouldn’t have been told.

He shrunk from the words, knowing she didn’t mean we at all. Then she kissed him on the head and returned to her sleeproom, leaving him to ponder the impossible.

The protective role of parent and child had reversed at his father’s arrest, something he still hadn’t fully assimilated, much less been ready for. Even when he’d been building the heat exchanger or digging the safe, the fact she was there had urged him on, as if she could bail him out if he ever got stuck. It hadn’t been Win, or ‘Merapa’s detailed plans, or luck, or lack of it. It had been her confidence, not his own, that had enabled him to do what had to be done. But he wouldn’t be able to break his father out of prison on borrowed strength.

He remained in the great room’s pale light, too agitated to go back to sleep and trying to figure out what to do first. That came easily, yet introduced another uncertainty, how to tell Win. There was definitely something strange about the cavern. Win had picked up on it all along, but in a different way. It had given his friend the creeps, whereas Dirck had felt serenity. But evidence was building that there was indeed more than that. His mind was clearer and sharper. Bits of knowledge flashed in his mind, source unknown. He wondered if it had any connection with the message he’d received about Creena still thinking he was a snurk. Maybe it wasn’t the cave at all, but related to that. It was as if bits of consciousness which had previously been asleep were suddenly waking up, his awareness expanded beyond anything he ever imagined before.

And then there was the dream. But it was more than a dream. It was too clear, too detailed, too lucid. ‘Merama’s version was identical, right down to the territorial crest and the time on the chronometer. It was as if someone or something had shown them both the same holovid. But for what purpose?

Rescuing his father was a formidable task. He didn’t even know where the prison was. They had no transportation and simply deleting the charges from the PLED was not an option. He needed Win’s confidence and planning skills, but how would he tell him about the dream? His friend was paranoid enough without finding out something was affecting his psyche. He probably wouldn’t even believe him which, he suddenly realized, was the very reason ‘Merama had seen the same thing.

Win would believe her even if he wouldn’t believe him.

Wow.

Genius.

And getting weirder by the moment, the more he thought about it.