Aur Child

Calliope, coxswain of the Odyssey, reassured herself that the risks of going ashore in this weather to search for the Aur boules had been clearly presented to Captain Talle. Provide the necessary data. That was her duty. Now, hold your tongue. Decisions, she told herself, required more than just facts. Interfering any more would only make things worse.

“Therefore, I strongly advise you to abort tonight’s sortie.” Those had been her concluding remarks at the end of an objective assessment. No hyperbole. The storm was too strong. Communications were too difficult. There were too many uncertainties.

“I hear what you’re saying,” Adem Talle had replied to her, “but we’re going anyway.”

Calliope was silent. Adem seemed to be waiting for an argument.

“How can you come to that conclusion?” she asked. The captain was indisputably headstrong. But this - she knew Adem would laugh at her if she said so - this felt wrong.

“Those primitive Tellurians will be completely preoccupied doing their rain dances, or whatever they do. We couldn’t ask for a better distraction to get to the Aur boules.”

“Rough seas. Poor visibility. Muddy trails. Weak signals. Everything soaked. Why not wait another day?” she protested.

Talle bobbed his head as if each lucid point Calliope made was nothing more than a line in a pop song.

“I want those Aur boules on board. Then we can all dance around like a bunch of Tellurians drunk off rainwater, and your boy can play all the shanties he wants.”

“You’ll also be down a man,” Calliope reminded him about Digambar staying behind. She promised herself this would be her final protest.

Talle shrugged this off as well. “She can listen in to all the fun.”

Calliope was quiet. She imagined what it might have bought her if she had had a physical presence, a body or even a projected avatar, just to look Talle in the eyes. Without that, nothing had stopped him from avoiding the lenses and other sensors that she was certain he knew were there. Her words were little more than a litany of arguments hurled through thin air and, without the body to deliver it, as the humans said, face-to-face, she recognized her disadvantage.

“Look, Calliope, you’ve got the calculations, but I’ve,” he tapped his temple, “got the intuition to know it’ll be fine.”

The crew looked nonplussed when Adem ordered them to make their final preparations. They’d seen the weather forecasts, the waves had been growing steadily, and a few heavier clouds already sprinkled the deck with the first threats of foul weather. The sky had turned quickly from a baked blue to a steel grey. The Odyssey was a stable ship, but the increasing swell rocked them uncomfortably while they scrambled to organize their gear.

“No more than four hours,” he said, reviewing the segments of the sortie.

“Thirty minutes to the beach. Ten minutes to cover the tender. One hour to reach the cache. Thirty minutes to extract the Aur boules. One hour return to Orpheus. Thirty minutes back to the Odyssey. A few minutes reserve.”

Digambar ticked off the items as they were packed. Lightbands? Check. Data visors? Check. Transponders? Check. Cloaks? Cord? Rope? Check. Check. Check. Boule mesh? Check. Drills, explosives, and detonators? Check. Check. Check. She had prepped Orpheus’ tender hours earlier; it was ready to be launched once Talle gave the signal. They stomped down into the starboard hull. With the equipment in tow, Talle, Cai, and Ispiryan crowded into the central cabin or Orpheus’ boat.

“Just let us know when that last fishing boat is beyond the far point,” Adem called out. Calliope kept her cameras trained to the rickety vessel. It scurried off under sail from the approaching storm towards the nearby port of Hill Village. With intermittent radar bursts, Calliope could only produce a limited weather forecast. Conditions would continue to worsen for at least twelve hours, possibly not easing up until dawn.

Calliope held the eye of Odyssey, the communications cluster at the top of the mast, at a precise distance offshore so that it could peek over the horizon towards the coastline. This position would ensure continuous line-of-sight contact via laser transceiver to the relays aboard Orpheus. And when they reached the forest, the additional transponders would be hung along the way so that the feed could be maintained. Captain Talle repeated the instructions he had already given Digambar.

“Don’t deploy the second tender unless it’s absolutely necessary. Got it?”

“Aye, Captain,” Digambar answered.

“And Calliope,” Adem added, “take care of my boule.”

“It shall be well protected, Captain,” she replied.

Calliope could see that the team was prepared. They looked confident. They had practiced their roles enough during the voyage to be ready for the most tactical part of the mission. Maybe she had been a bit too cautious. But when the bay door of the tender room swung open, foamy crests of waves crashing onto the ramp renewed her trepidation. For a moment, Calliope thought she might even be relieved that Digambar had been told to stay back.

Thunder rumbled and rain streamed down through a pitch-black sky as the sortie team of three pushed off from Odyssey under the escort of Orpheus. Captain Talle waved to Digambar as the bow of the small tender spun around and disappeared into the night. Beyond the ship’s deck, nothing more could be seen than the random flashes of lightning illuminating billows of dark clouds. Digambar returned to the calm, dry saloon of the ship to monitor the sortie’s progress. Her shivers were noticeable to Calliope.

Calliope already had the displays aglow. Numbers and characters flashed for Digambar’s benefit as Calliope processed the feed. The crew, Orpheus, and a map of the area were presented in developing detail as both Calliope and Orpheus received more data.

“Diga, you’re shivering.” Her clothes had already been soaked through after only a minute outside. “Throw that blanket over your shoulders.”

The woman sat down on the large sofa. A first report from Orpheus came through. Then, audio signals from the team.

“We’re navigating the sand bars now,” reported Captain Talle. “It was a fast run. Should be ashore in less than five minutes.”

Orpheus followed up the captain’s short message with more details, apparently for Digambar’s benefit. “All team vital statistics are within range. Sand bars are pronounced but navigable. We’re closing in on the beach head with plenty of soft sand options for landing. We’ll have to surf in with these waves, however. Captain Talle has identified this location to come ashore.”

A rough triangular mesh of the shoreline flickered on the map display. In moments it refreshed to a denser hex grid. A dot within a circle marked the tender’s fix. The location along the shoreline where they planned to mask the tender was marked with crosshairs within a box.

“They’ve chosen a good location for Orpheus,” Digambar noted to Calliope.

These were intentional words from Digambar, Calliope thought. Of course, she was nervous about her son being run aground and left unattended for several hours. It was necessary given the conditions, but Calliope didn’t like it.

“Yes,” replied Calliope, “It’s well clear of the trailhead and quite hidden. At least at nighttime.”

“We’ll be long gone before daylight, Calliope,” Digambar said in a reassuring voice.

“This is exciting,” added Calliope’s other son, Linus. Days earlier, he had successfully argued to her that Orpheus should conduct the sortie rather than himself. “Mother, he’s older and less talented than I am,” had been his position. This argument had made Orpheus bristle, but as he wanted to participate, and Linus had already taken part in the rendezvous at Gjoa, he didn’t object. Now, Linus watched the action in comfort. “I have composed a dramatic theme especially for the occasion. Perhaps I should now accompany them with the lyre for your enjoyment?”

Digambar smiled affectionately. “Oh, okay, Linus, but softly please. We want to hear what your brother has to report.”

The video showed the sortie team had draped the olive drab netting over Orpheus at the forest line. They returned to wet their boots again in the foam of the crashing waves to disguise their hike down the beach toward the trail head. Heart rates increased. The trail itself would be tricky to find in the dense brush, and trickier to walk along with slick mud and deep puddles. Calliope noted that their skin humidity was already at one hundred percent. More audio came in.

“Ugh, this body feels awful in wet clothes,” Bai Ye said. Her voice scratched through the narrow beam communication system.

“All bodies feel awful in wet clothes,” replied Arman.

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Talle said.

“Captain, I don’t know if it’s sea legs or just discomfort in this body, but the goings pretty rough for me,” continued Arman.

“Hey, let’s keep quiet, now, kids.” Talle said. “Calliope, next stop is the trailhead where we’ll install the first transponder. Radio silence unless I initiate.”

“Yes, Captain.”

They walked away into the thick gloom of night and heavy rain. Their heat signals faded with their distance from Orpheus. The crew seemed to deliberate at the trail head.

“Are they having trouble setting up the relay?” Digambar asked.

“Might be difficult to keep it suspended in this rain. But look. There it is.” Calliope indicated the new position fix of the functional transponder.

The speakers crackled, and then they heard Talle.

“Relay’s up. Confirm our vitals, Diga.”

Calliope watched Digambar review the statistics that were pouring onto the displays.

“Everything’s coming through clearly.” Digambar was nodding to herself. “In this rain it looks like you’ll need relays no more than three hundred meters apart.”

“Copy,” Talle answered.

“Captain,” Diga said, “You know it’s safe to leave the communications channel open using the relays, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, ok,” Talle replied. “You’ve got every vital statistic about us you could possibly need, but you still want to listen to my heavy breathing.”

Digambar chuckled and shook her head. She looked up and said to Calliope. “So far, no problems. But those transponders’ line of sight communications will be lost if they don’t place them close enough.”

Calliope sensed Digambar’s anxiety about entering the forest. “They’ve got plenty of them. As long as they don’t hang them too low, they’ll work fine.”

Calliope scanned the data feed. The transponders were delivering clear contours and terrain data at a twenty-meter radius from the crew. Talle led the team along an eastbound trail paralleling a small brook. On the opposite side of the brook, a narrow landing began to appear on the topographic map. It was the base of cliffs that exceeded the crew’s sensor coverage.

Calliope highlighted the map with yellow outlines. “That looks like the inland continuation of the Sharkjaw cliffs from the chart you got in Gjoa.” She filled in the map with dashed lines to indicate a presumed connection.

“I see it,” Talle said. “That Tellurian chart is pretty accurate.”

Their body temperatures were rising. In the video feed, Calliope watched their feet sinking into sticky mud as they marched along the trail. Finally, they reached a junction with another trail that carried on to the left.

“That one goes north.” Calliope could see Talle’s pointing as he flicked at the chart on his visor. “This is a good landmark. Arman will set up the next transponder over there.” The map again flashed with a new waypoint, and a moment later it changed to a new transponder fix. Calliope listened in as Talle continued to speak with the communication channel active.

“Let’s cross the brook here and continue a bit further east along that strip of land until we reach the caves. The Aur boule signals were detected over there.”

“How do we know which one it is?” Arman asked.

Talle revised his data visor to display the boule signatures. “The signature is pretty strong all over here, but we should try to pinpoint the strongest signal.”

Calliope could see that the others employed their visors as well. They stepped laterally along the cliff face, carefully measuring the signals at each cave entrance. Thunder cracked overhead. Rain flushed over the video feed. Calliope picked up the sound of water squishing out of Talle’s boots.

“How about here?” Bai Ye called out.

“Yes,” Talle agreed, “This is it. Well done.”

“Oh, thank goodness!” Digambar breathed out a sigh into her cupped hands.

Through Arman’s feed, Calliope watched Adem drop to one knee and set his pack before him. “Let’s get some charges in place and blast this thing open wide enough to squeeze in.” He rummaged around for the soft packets. “In this storm, the Tellurians won’t hear a thing.”

Within minutes, they had wedged several charges into cracks around the slotted cave opening. Bai Ye motioned to a position several steps from the charges.

“We’re protected over here,” she said.

The blast was loud, even as an audio feed, but not nearly as loud as the raging storm all around them. Adem clapped his gloved hands at the pile of rubble they had created.

“I’m counting the minutes until you eat your words, Calliope. Grab the Aur boules and get back to Orpheus. That’s all we have to do now. Bai Ye, you can fit in there,” Talle said.

She crawled into the ruptured cave and disappeared up to her boots in the darkness. Her video feed blacked out, but the audio was still working.

“Nice and dry in here,” she commented back to the two men. From their video Calliope could see Bai Ye’s lightband flashing around.

“Oh, nope, it’s wet down here too.” She looked up. “Looks like the cave is open from the top. There’s quite a bit of rainwater coming in from above.”

“We don’t need a weather report,” Talle growled. “Just get the boules.”

“They’re here. All three, just like Apollo said. High and dry.”

“I don’t care how they’re arranged,” Adem said. He seemed to be thinking about the same thing as Calliope, because he then looked behind them out into the gloom. Unbelievably, the rain had increased even more in intensely. Lightning and thunder harried above with bolts that flashed the video white and stopped the audio in eerie pauses. He turned and looked out in the direction of the trail. Calliope watched all this and realized the safety conditions had quickly worsened.

“Just pass them out to us and let’s get a move on,” Talle said. Even through three transceivers and Orpheus’ relay he sounded anxious. “You can tell us all about the pretty little cave you’ve discovered when we’re back on Odyssey.”

“Alright, fine,” grumbled Bai Ye. “You’re taking all the fun out of it though.”

Her legs twisted and seemed to slide further into the cave.

“Here’s the first one,” she said. She crawled back towards them fumbling with an Aur boule, the matte gray cube bumping along the rocky ground. She lifted it slightly to move it forward and then readjusted her position on all fours.

“Get the mesh shrouds out,” Talle snapped at Arman.

“Shrouds?” He was already rummaging in his pack. “I only have one in here. I thought we each had one,” he replied.

Talle looked into the dark cave. Bai Ye’s lightband shone into his eyes. “Tell me you’ve got the other mesh shrouds in your pack,” he said.

Bai Ye didn’t speak at first, but Calliope could see through Adem’s video feed her lightband sweeping from side to side in the negative. “We should go back to Orpheus. Maybe we left them there,” she said.

“Damn!” he yelled, but the impact of his words was drowned out by the deluge all around. “They should be kept in metal mesh …” he looked around aimlessly, “or they’ll disrupt the electromagnetism charge around them … or something like that.”

Arman looked up into the sky. “I guess it’s no toy to walk around with in this weather.”

Digambar looked up from the displays and groaned.

“What can they do?” she asked.

“They must take only one,” Calliope answered.

The three bodies crouched under sheets of rain. Talle seemed to be considering the options. Calliope knew he would be loath to return to the ship short of all three boules. They were already exposed. They couldn’t just wait there.

“Captain.” Calliope spoke with authority. “They must be shrouded. You can’t expose the boules in this storm. It’s too risky.” But Talle didn’t seem to hear her.

“What do we do, Captain?” Bai Ye asked, still halfway inside the cave.

He mumbled under his breath, “The idiots had a checklist.” Then, he pressed the contact at his temple. “Orpheus, do you copy? Over.”

“I copy, Captain.”

“Orpheus, do you copy? Over.” Adem raised his voice.

“Yes, Captain. I copy”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Talle said and yelled into the microphone. “Calliope, do you copy?”

“Yes, Captain,” Calliope said. “We hear you.”

“What’s happened?” Digambar asked.

“I think we’ve lost our audio to them.”

“But we can hear them?”

“Yes, it seems that way. Orpheus, do you have any audio signal on them?”

“Receive only,” Orpheus said.

Adem continued. “Calliope, it seems we can’t hear you.” The rain pelted his microphone as he paused. “And just when I was finally about to ask for your sage advice.” Calliope heard him snickering. “Anyway,” he said, “if you can hear us, we’re returning to the ship with the boules, so wish us luck.”

“That’s a bad idea, Captain,” Calliope said, but she knew he couldn’t hear him.

The communications channel was left on as Adem started to give orders to the others. “Ditch the remaining explosives in the cave and pack the boules low and tight. I’ll take the shrouded one and lead the way back to Orpheus. If it’s safe for me, it should be safe for you two.”

He mumbled, “I hope,” to himself, and then to the others again, “We’ll double-time it under tree cover at the beach head and then get them into their shrouds before we push out to sea. Arman, are you sure you’ve left the mesh shrouds at the tender?”

“I can’t really recall. But we packed them on the ship, so they must be with Orpheus.”

Adem waved his hand. “It won’t matter anyway. We’ll just stuff ‘em into one of Orpheus’ metal hatches.”

Calliope, Digambar, Linus, and Orpheus watched helplessly as the three dense cubes were pushed out from the mouth of the cave and stuffed deep into the sopping wet backpacks as instructed. One boule per person, according to the plan they had practiced with their cabin footstools on the ship’s deck many times, except that only the boule Talle carried was covered in a shroud. In an instant, they were up and walking, their locations clearly marked on the charts. They pushed through the brush to reach the brook crossing, but it had transformed into a raging river, flooding over its banks in furious torrents.

“Are they really going to cross that?” Digambar asked. Calliope didn’t answer.

“Tie the ropes to one another,” Talle said, yelling above the rush of rain and river. “It’s narrow enough …if we can just keep our footing.”

He secured a knot and continued his advice with a pointed finger. “Prop yourself against that tree.”

Bai Ye nodded while she fumbled with the knots.

Talle went first. He stepped into the furious water. Its full force rushed against him, threatening to topple him. One misstep would yank him off his feet. Only the rope’s tension kept him from being swept downstream. He struggled to push his leg across the flow. The bottom was difficult to touch. He kept tension on the rope and used his arm as a rudder to thrust himself diagonally across the flood. He’d have to lunge to reach a tree on the other side.

In glimpses, Calliope caught the others watching him creep perilously across the brook. Their heart rates were too high and their bodies were shivering. They both gripped the rope with white knuckles. With a grunt, Adem leaped up and grabbed hold of a thin tree on the other side of the brook. Gasping for breath, he looked up at the others.

“You’re next,” he indicated to Bai Ye as he fixed the rope tightly to the tree beside him.

Bai Ye stepped cautiously into the gush of water, groping with her foot in the muddy bank.

“Keep your weight on the rope,” Adem yelled. “Focus on your footholds.”

Calliope noticed Arman leaning over the bank, struggling to keep tension on the rope wrapped around a tree and holding Bai Ye fast. She wanted to warn them he was off balance, but she couldn’t. She wanted to tell Digambar what she was noticing but saw no benefit in doing so. That’s when the full force of the feeling came to her. The creek was exposed to the open sky; a perilous place for unmeshed boules. They were overextended and she knew it. She had had her chance to prevent this, but now it was too late. If one of them lost their grip and got carried out to sea, she would have to recover them after being flushed out to sea. Immediately, she began calculating trajectories for their retrieval. She wanted to correct that position, but she could only hope they would make it.

The sky welled up and burst forth in silver-white light over the trees. Adem screamed something with his hands extended out towards the others. A green splash blinded the video. Two loud thuds, one after another, boomed out across the forest. An eruption of green light burst out and painted the clouds. The sky thundered with a wicked knell. The trees closest to their crossing were reduced to ashes in an instant. Others were knocked backward from the stream. Two large craters offset from one another caused the water to crash and foam. Steam erupted from their centers. Everything was incinerated in that first flash of lightning. Nothing remained to indicate the presence of humans just moments earlier, except one metallic cube wrapped in a charred shroud half buried in mud and a shred of a cloak in the branches a few steps downstream.

Part Three

CONJUNCTION

Beneath the waxing gibbous of the Child, that being the sixth moon of the two-hundred and twenty-fifth year after Cloudburst.