diameter: 16,000 kil
gravity: .6 relative
Earth
atmos density: .4 relative Earth
CO2 72.1
O2 19.4
N 5.2
CH4 3.0
Trace .3
temp:
120 to 35F tropic
100 to 20F sub tropic
70 to -15F up mid latitude
30 to -90F polar sub pol
wind: 5 to 220 kph
humid: .15 to .02 relative
Earth
flora: positive
fauna: probable
He read the last line over, took a deep breath. There were some fears
one never fully overcame.
Not that Fear stood large in his mind---seventy Earth years were enough
to teach him how meaningless that word was in the end. Fear of death
was not only something he had never known, but something he had never
understood in others. His Cherokee blood, perhaps. He did not dread
it. Now, more and more he almost welcomed death, so long as it was
honorable and not cheap.
But this was pointless. He had to decide on an entry and find a place
to land, and hope his breathing mask could make something of the
strange planet's 'air'. Then take on as much oxygen as possible.
Then. What?
GO BACK AND FIGHT THEM AGAIN. He was tired.
Simin crawled out from the heart of the stone, upwards through the long
carven tunnel. Coming to a meeting of ways met a brother, touched
antennae lightly---vibrations in the sky - yes brother I will come.
Followed twice left and right outward toward the canyon. The way grew
wider, more brothers, out into the serrated caves opening far above the
valley, came to the broad ledge. As one the heads of twenty mai rose
to watch the yellow flame descending. Touch---as before---moved to
look out from the rim of the ledge, front legs suspended in the air.
The shell was landing in a wide plain among the hills beyond the
valley, at the foot of the Mountains of Teeth.
Joining.
As before - down from the sky - bright flame, shell - two legs - I do
not know brother. Summon queen, others - not yet I think. But we must
- brought to us - gods - no, too small - perhaps this one is different.
Must act as one - yes, as one - I think it is so. Yes brothers, I
will go.
*
Shannon opened the hatch and looked out, long white hair pushed back as
the wind swept past his hawk nose and weathered features. His face was
red as brick. Intense, steel-gray eyes looked straight ahead.
Scattered patches of some yellow-brown foliage skirted the edges of red
stone that rippled up in curving waves from the dark and rocky soil.
Before him lay the rock-strewn plain, beyond it long low hills. He had
purposely avoided the shadowy chasm beyond. The sky was pale gold, to
auburn at the edges.
There had not been enough oxygen left for him to wait long inside the
ship. The air-lock stood closed behind him. It was a naked feeling as
he took those first breaths, sounding loudly through the intake bars of
the mask. ALL RIGHT? It didn't taste just right, but the indicator on
his sleeve showed green: sufficient oxygen, negligible poison. He
felt restless. He crossed over the lip of the threshold, and descended
the perforated steps.
Footing immediately around the landing site was difficult, as he moved
out several paces to look back at the mountains unobstructed. The
rising sun had just cleared a high gap between them, and its shadow of
light crept slowly down their shoulders.
He felt emotion stir inside him. Like stark and stalwart horns they
rose to their impossible heights, almost vertical. Of what stone they
had been forged to so withstand the wind and weathering he could not
guess. Like jagged pillars that would not die. The warrior's heart
within him flamed.
Feeling some presence, he turned back to face the plain. Something was
moving toward him. Distance defied close description; but the shape of
the body and the nature of its movements did not at first imply
intelligence. But he knew better than to form such judgments. It
moved openly, tactlessly toward him. He felt no fear.
But as it drew steadily on, he felt the sudden shock of recognition.
This was no slow, cumbersome oddity. It was an insect, nearly five
feet long. Like but unlike a huge ant---it was flatter, more heavily
armored, with creased edges and corners, not unlike the rock. Crisp,
tight-folded wings. He turned back toward the ship, but there was
stayed by the will of whatever it was that came forward. He felt a
sudden shame at his desire to run, and whirled angrily to face it, the
long knife (the only weapon he carried) in his hand. With this action
the creature seemed pleased: it wholly released its grip on his mind.
It continued to come on.
Stopping finally some eight meters in front of him, it raised its upper
body and addressed him. He saw then the bright orange-yellow ring,
darkly filled, on the underside of its thorax. He heard words in his
mind, somehow in his native tongue.
"I am Simin. We must fight, you and I. I cannot let you live. For
this is our world, and it is not our way. But your death need not be
without honor. And if you fight well, it may be of greater worth than
you know."
For a moment the man stood disbelieving, incongruous. Then,
"You will have to take me first!" he cried, feeling yet again the fire
that was in him.
The drone gave way before him, moving to the more level ground a short
distance to one side. Shannon wondered at this, since clearly it moved
among the pebble-stones effortlessly, then realized also that his knife
had grown, or at least appeared to grow. Its curved blade gleamed, two
feet long. The creature was trying to even the odds. But it fully
meant to kill him. That he knew with equal certainty.
The two circled, then the mai advanced. The man aimed a blow at the
head, but Simin rolled away beneath it. Then rose and came closer.
*
The man had fought well. SO UNLIKE THE OTHERS. That he possessed the
heart of a soldier Simin had known from the first brief mind scan. But
never would have guessed the size of it. For it was easy to feel the
vast deserts the man had already crossed, and the final defeat showed
clearly in his eyes. But still he fought on, for no other reason than
that his fierce spirit refused to be broken. Paused before moving onto
the fallen body.
Came forward, touched antennae to his temples, and drank deeply from
the streams of Shannon's life. Then engulfed the top of the skull with
massive, bowed jaws and cracked, lifted away the cranium. Slowly ate
the man's brain, taking with it the remainder of his memory.
Almost at once the change began to come over him. Tingling, he backed
away slowly on his hind legs. At last the miracle had come. He lifted
his head to the sky, and felt the transformation taking place. The
hard shell of his face softened, yielding gradually to a new shape:
hawk nose, burning eyes. White hair streamed back from the auburn
face, hard-edged once more. The huge protruding jaws remained. His
forward body was now nearly upright, like a mantis, but with stronger,
more flexible arms. His mind was keen and sharp.
He turned back to face the mountains, felt the same fierce elation.
And for a time he could not move or think for the wonder of it. How
had he not felt it before. For a time he could not move or think.....
At long length he turned and headed back to the place of his spawning
---the Gorge. The brothers, now forty, saw him reappear atop the high
precipice that loomed at the far side of the canyon. They detected
some subtle change in him, though from that distance they could only
descry a somewhat more elevated form. He did not come to them at once,
but stood looking down upon the stepped vastness, alone, as if seeing
it for the first time.
When at last he did spread his wings and fly closer they looked up at
him amazed, not understanding. He landed on the ledge but remained at
his distance, regarding them quietly. He addressed them, no longer
needing to touch. His strange eyes shone and he did not move, as if
overwhelmed from within. He spoke to their minds.
"My time has come. Summon the others."
They could not understand, but obeyed, dispersing to summon their
queen, and all others that lived within the span of their own.
*
The sun tipped the horizon and dust was gathering and still the long
files of mai continued to stream down. Already the central basin was
nearly filled, and pushing back toward the statued spires of the west
wall. The moving shapes were dark in the lengthening shadows, and all
looked up at him, perched silently atop the Carrier Stone. The first
circle of seven queens, not touching, seemed to understand, as did the
drones behind them. All others knew only that another Outsider had
been killed. Waited patiently for the joining.
As the darkness deepened and the last movement ceased, all joined and
were silent. The queens approached the Stone, the giver of life, and
touched it.
From out of its crumpled iron surface arose a faint hum, the remainder
of its strength. All lives were now fused, and the queens sent out
their messages. Joined forelegs and antennae, bent all their thought
toward Simin, so that now he probed the memory not with one mind but
with many. And stimulated by the Carrier, its greatness began to come
forth.
Slowly the streams of Shannon's life broke free and flowed in a gentle
murmur through all, paced and given substance by the queens and drones.
And slowly they took shape into music, a long, rhythmic chant. Then
with gathering strength as a river fed by many tributaries, rose into
song that filled all the valley, and echoed in the hearts of ten
thousand mai. From birth to death, the long struggles of his life were
played out, rising and falling like the seasons of the wind. Again and
yet again he did battle, with hope or without it. The song grew within
Simin, overpowering, so stark and beautiful that he thought he must
die, but knew he could not yet.
Then all again was hushed, and stiffly the drone-that-was raised
himself up. A voice rose out of his soul, but it was no longer his: a
pulsing, soft white glow hovered in the air above him.
"They have called me a mercenary, but it is not so. I am a warrior.
For be it my virtue or be it my curse, it has never been within me to
yield to aggression, or to stand aside and let violence pass.
Something has always risen inside me when persecution, in any form, is
at hand. In this I claim no virtue, no heroism. This only will I say:
that I have ever given my strength to those unable to defend
themselves, the downtrodden, the weak, oppressed by the strong. But
most bitter in my malice have always been those who kill in the name of
God, some higher purpose. They are to me blindness and murder
personified. Thus, I do not claim it.
"In twelve wars have I fought---in half as many victories. For in time
my soldiering became no longer a conscious action, but an instinctive
response.
"Well do I know my folly in choosing this bitter course. But if I am
to live, then it will be as a man. And if by the loneliness that is my
soul I can turn aside the sword of injustice, even for a short time,
then so help me God I will do it."
The words ended and the glow receded. It lived no more. Again
himself, alone, Simin lowered his head, so deeply moved that the water
flowed freely from his eyes. The ruling queen approached him.
"Simin-that-was. Do you take this Quest?"
"I will take it, though I fear to falter."
"You will not."
The queen stepped back, and all proclaimed him.
"Si-mai, ungol, misch-naik!" AGAINST THE EVIL THAT WAS AND IS, WE SEND
YOU. The joining was ended, and the gathering dispersed.