Aurona, page 43
Alarmed, Dexor commandeered Senn’s Spyder to crawl out to the end of the sled for a better perspective. As he turned it around, its flat suction pads gripping firmly to the slippery metal, he heard a loud gasp beside him.
Nastix screeched into the audiodome of his helmet. “Look boss, he’s dead!!”
For the third time that night Dexor’s teeth clamped together entirely on their own, this time grinding off a bit of enamel. He whipped off his helmet, his bloodied ears ringing. “Are you nuts?” he bellowed. “Never, I repeat, never yell into this little round bump, understand?” His finger jabbed emphatically on the spot.
“Sorry, boss,” he muttered.
“I can see him, you jerk, and he’s not dead! His feet are still kicking! Nothing can be done about that fat fool right now, so shut your yaps and keep watching!”
They yanked down their helmets in hateful silence.
“Idiots!” he sputtered. “I get a crazed egomaniac, a fat fool, and two idiots. To top it off, I have to deal with a manic schizoid in a bat-butt suit having secret meetings on top of a tree with an army of hydrocephalic mushrooms!!”
Gingerly, he slipped his helmet over his sore ears. “And now? Killer Kones?”
Obviously being buffeted by the strong winds, the Spyder was gripping the slippery metal a few feet away from Senn. Yes, the man was alive, no question about it. His stubby legs were kicking and his head was thrown back by the tremendous centrifugal force. Although he appeared to be screaming at the top of his lungs, they couldn’t hear him over the roar of the wind and chop of the great wooden paddles.
The Spyrin’s body was nearly split in two by the colossal wedge shape, with dried, mahogany-colored blood liberally spattering everything. Tendrils—no, roots—seemed to be erupting from the cone’s rough surface and entwining the insect’s bloated body. They tunneled deeply to feed, distorting the insect’s features and transforming the wasplike body into an unrecognizable, cracked lump.
Dexor’s gut started to heave and it took a few breaths to come out of it. A movement caught his eye and he looked over his head. What was that? The trio of broad, woody paddles were angling around to catch the wind to a better advantage!
Dexor commandeered the Spyder to crawl back up the tough sleeve of Senn’s uniform. As it reached his shoulder, the beefy man finally fainted from exertion and terror. His body flopping loosely he hung there, spinning.
Suddenly yellow light blazed to life in their e-helmets, followed by a prolonged, electronic buzz. Dexor quickly finished guiding the robotoid up to Senn’s collar. As it latched on and hunkered down, their face shields went blank. The Spyder had just spun out of transmitting range.
“Show’s over,” Dexor muttered. His eyes glinted like steel as he nodded toward the exit. “Time to mingle, mutton-heads.” He fingered his bloodied collar. “After I change into, ah, something more appropriate, we’ll go crash the bat-party.”
Shortly, they dashed through the rainy night and rendezvoused under one of the flaring overhangs outside the tower. Waiting for just the right moment, they slipped inconspicuously into the wet, noisy crowd one at a time. No one could possibly suspect a thing now; the trio had ironclad alibis.
Chapter 23: PRIMA
Everyone slept late the next morning, too exhausted to even think about exploding DynaPods. They’d been up until three in the morning waiting for the storm to abate and then, under very watchful eyes, had dashed through the lingering rain to the shelter and security of the starship. The AugerBlades’ whirling cone shapes had filled the sky from horizon to horizon and lingered around the top of the tower in deafening hoards, almost as if they were waiting to catch someone out in the open. Maybe they had primitive pheromone sensors, perhaps it was the level of carbon dioxide seeping out of the hole on top, but everyone knew that they’d definitely sensed life inside.
By mid-afternoon, they’d taken a roll call and found that Senn was missing. The crew gathered for a full-fledged search party, and shortly, someone found an empty slot inside Cargo Bay F: he’d obviously gone somewhere on a small, one-man SpeedSled. The search immediately broadened to the nearby jungle and eventually to the top of the Motherlode tree, where metal sled fragments, woody shavings from an AugerBlade seed, a Spyrin’s leg, and huge gashes in the leaves told it all. Only by a miracle could the man be alive, but they were helpless to trace him any further. His PIL was found in his room.
Adam wasted no time and called Dexor, Nastix, and Trennic up to his office, plying them with carefully phrased questions. As expected, he got nowhere and dismissed them. Totally frustrated, he summoned Tola.
The round man entered hesitantly. “Sir?”
Adam spun around, his hand on his chin, deep in thought. “You know, I-I was never one for funerals….” He studied Tola’s face, taking a reading.
“Oh,” he nodded, “I get it: bad experience, huh?”
Adam scowled. “Yup. One is enough. Ah, what’s your take on all this mess?”
Tola threw up his hands. “It’s obvious: Satan’s lost one of his disciples! That Dexor could care less; the husky one was nothin’ but roadkill. Hey, one down, two to go.”
Adam groaned. “How’d I ever pick those creeps for my crew?”
Tola pondered a moment. “So their alibis were like a brick wall, huh?”
“You got it. I just wasted over an hour tail-chasing. I’m sure they rehearsed the whole thing,” he scowled. “Anyway, let’s get back to business: Senn’s, ah, funeral?”
“Well,” Tola murmured, “I say a man’s a man, no matter who he follows or what he believes. I just wish I’d gotten through to at least one of those boneheads with the Truth. But for now, we’ll just have to do the right thing. You know, for the sake of the crew? A memorial service isn’t entirely out of the question….”
“That means you’ll do it?” Adam prodded.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do it,” he conceded. “A simple ceremony in the Observatory Room is only right and fitting. It’ll be short and to the point, pull the crew back together and give them closure. Hey, among other things, I’ll have a great chance to blast those three knuckleheads with Proverbs. Catch my meaning? Spoon feed ‘em?”
Adam brightened. “You’ll have a captive audience! They’ll hate you!”
“Oh, joy! I just love to be hated! Hey, it’s my job, right?”
“No, no! It’s my job!”
“No, It’s mine!!”
“Fight you for it!”
They sparred, scuffling around the room.
Tola held up a chubby hand, puffing. “Wait, wait! I got way more ammo than you. I’ve memorized tons of Proverbs that fit the occasion. Here’s an example: ‘There is a way that seems right to a man, but in the end it leads to death.’”
“Perfect,” Adam said, grinning. “Got more?”
“Yep! A zinger, custom-made for Dexor!”
“What is it? C’mon, hit me, oh mighty round one!”
Narrowing his eyes, Tola nodded sagely. “‘Cast but a glance at riches and they are gone, for surely they will sprout wings and fly off into the skies like an eagle.’”
“Wow. Incredible. Say no more. Let’s do this thing.”
As the crew filed quietly into the Observatory Room for the evening’s service, Adam whispered into Tola’s ear. “Don’t look now, but have you checked out Dexor and his clone-unit?”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “They’re stuck tighter’n a tattoo on each other’s butt.”
Kron spun toward them. “I heard that, preacher man! Hey, a guy never forgets his native language, right?” Chortling, he glanced at Adam. “I hate to ask, sir, but how’d it go this afternoon? The lies? The crocodile tears?”
Adam rolled his eyes and glanced at Tola. The round man rolled his eyes in the opposite direction.
“Okayyy-y-y, I see. That bad, huh?”
“Yep.” Tola nodded. “Oh, don’t look now, but when you get a chance, take a gander at those goons. They’re pros! They should take their show on the road!”
Kron stole a look. Leaning stiffly against the back wall in their usual places near the exit, Dexor, Nastix, and Trennic were putting on a superb performance. As the crew passed by offering condolences, they put on long faces, thanking them profusely and somehow cranking out believable versions of ‘empathetic’ and ‘gracious.’
Elena and Joelle joined Adam’s group, watching the grief-show unfold, snatching bits and pieces of conversation wafting toward them. It seemed that Dexor and his men had been worried sick about their best buddy and had searched the rainforest all afternoon along with the rest of the crew. Why, Senn shouldn’t have dreamed about going out there alone, especially on such an awful night. To them, the whole thing was way beyond comprehension.
Tola expelled a long breath and glanced at his watch. “Ready?”
Adam adjusted the round man’s throat mike. “Sic ‘em.”
Tola’s subject matter was dead on target. The crew sat delighted and open-mouthed as he fired off salvo after salvo of loaded, ticking time bombs into their laps, enraptured with this sudden, unexpected exercise in many-layered comprehension.
On the other extreme, Dexor and his men were turning green. Watching them from the corner of his eye, Tola monitored the wall-huggers for noticeable stages of ‘sag’ and ‘droop.’ Ah, there it was, his first sign: they were glancing at their watches and the door. Encouraged, he pulled out his Aces.
Dexor couldn’t handle the onslaught. His cockiness flagged, his lips curled in revulsion, and he elbowed his men, rolling his eyes. The three fidgeted and squirmed along the wall toward the exit.
Tola kept up his barrage. Preaching boldly, masterfully, he timed his memorial to a close, waiting for the exact moment when Dexor’s shaking hand was actually … on the door’s… handle….
“Amen,” he breathed.
Dexor let out a shallow gasp, dropping his hand.
With a monumental effort to stifle his laughter, Adam slowly stood and signaled for attention. “Well,” he began, “it’s time to get down to brass tacks.” There was an almost audible vibe hanging thickly in the air. “We’ve just lost the first one of our crew and I know we’ve all been through a lot of other ‘stuff’ these past few days.”
As the crew nodded in agreement, Dexor’s lip returned to its curl.
“The danger out there is real. Razahs are real. Spyrins are real. And now, AugerBlades are real. Every day we’re running into another piece of this big Aurona puzzle.”
In the front row, Sahir had been doing her best to get more comfortable, squirming on a pile of pillows, her legs heavily bandaged. Elena slid another cushion toward her, propping it under her legs.
Adam watched the exchange. “You okay, girl?” he offered.
She glanced up, nodding. “Yes, thank you, sir. I’m healing fine, but….”
“Yes?”
“I had a question. My friends and I have been talking about this new guy, Tavan. We’re all super, super thankful that he came to warn us about the storm and then explain what was going on. Could you tell us a bit more about him? You’ve been, ah, flitting around with him quite a lot lately.”
There was a snicker, and then a few hesitant smiles. The mood escalated upward a few degrees, like a long-awaited spring after a harsh winter.
“Excellent question, Sahir. Well, first of all, Tavan’s a whole new breed of Bandors. The older ones seem to be reaching out a bit, but otherwise they’re bound by their traditions. Don’t get me wrong: traditions are good, but they can become like a cork in a bottle. Sometimes you’ve got to let go of learned routines, do some reverse engineering, and figure out what’s the right thing to do! Again, thanks. You’ve made it easier for me to segue into what I really wanted to talk about tonight….”
“Oh?” Sahir brightened. “What’s that, sir?”
He shrugged. “Values.” Monitoring Dexor’s group out of the corner of his eye, he paraphrased a short snippet of the same pep talk he’d given to the men at the mouth of the Spyrin’s nest. Stifling their groans, the three glanced at their watches again.
Ah, his litmus test worked. Brightening, Adam opened up, embellishing with extensive views on motives, attitudes and heart, then the intrinsic value of gold as opposed to greed and selfish ambition. Thirty minutes later, he extolled at length on the wonders of Bandor telepathy and bartering for the common good, then warned about the sometimes hidden and unintended side effects of technology.
The crew lapped it up: Adam was laying everything out into the open, uncovering their own hopes, fears and frustrations, and yanking their corks out of tradition-bound bottles! As he concluded, urging them to always look forward, broad smiles lit up the room.
His speech galvanized them into action. They gathered to talk in noisy groups about their future plans for Aurona, with his new Spyrin extermination project seeming to head their list. Adam’s enthusiastic team of twenty jumped in, took the reins, and filled in a few gory details of their mission. As they finished and called out for more help, a sea of hands waved in the air. Kron appointed several groups to work in rotating shifts, each with leaders from the original fired-up crew. Their Spyrin plans now had teeth.
Sahir rose to her feet. “Guys, listen. What about the Augerblade trees? I think it’s obvious that they should be exterminated too, right?”
As they looked at her injuries, they got the connection immediately. She was right: besides the obvious danger from their enormous seeds, the AugerBlade trees were putting the Motherlodes in danger. The entire planet’s carefully balanced ecosystem was at risk.
Suddenly, Kron looked up with a start. “Hey! I just remembered something real important, guys! We have another Bitron invention aboard that’ll be a perfect fit for this AugerBlade project … a large-scale LaserCutter! It’s powerful enough to slice down AugerBlade trees like butter from the deck of our hovering starship!”
Dexor’s ears tingled. He spun to his companions, raising his brows and making slicing motions with his hands. They threw him knowing looks, nodding vehemently. Quickly lifting his collar, he muttered a few words into his remote recorder.
“Wow, thanks Kron!” Adam smiled. “Honestly, I don’t know about most of that Bitron stuff; they must have thrown it aboard our starship as a goodby present! So we got a large-scale Laser Cutter, huh? That’s a real breakthrough!” He checked his wrist programmer. “Okay, one last question before you’re dismissed … anyone?”
Joelle jumped to her feet. “Ah, this doesn’t have anything to do with humongous flying seeds or laser cutters or giant bugs….”
“That’s fine,” Adam chuckled. “Go ahead, Joelle, we all need some diversion.”
As the crew hooted, she pressed on, encouraged. “Speaking of bugs, this has been bugging me since we got here a month ago: why doesn’t anyone have jet lag? We’ve all been feeling just fine from the minute we arrived, but we know there’s a huge difference in the length of Earth’s and Aurona’s days.”
Kron turned to her, grinning mischievously. “Yes, Joelle, there’s yet another Bitron invention involved in….”
“I should’a guessed,” she interjected, throwing up her hands. “Tell us, Kron.”
“Our sleep pod’s exercise tables were there, working behind the scenes! They took the entire length of our seven-year sleep to add four hours to our diurnal rhythm by warming our bodies and giving them exercise routines at regular intervals.”
Joelle tilted her head. “Oh, so that’s it! We’ve been reprogrammed! Along with a new planet and new chronometers, we’ve got a whole new life cycle!”
A new city, too. Early next morning, construction began in earnest on Adam’s great, sprawling fifty-acre complex. The communications tower project had given the crew a bit of practice, but it had been built on a level, grassy plain. This time around they took a lot more time and thought it out, stacking and staging the equipment for the onslaught. Following Adam’s plan, an army of Robodiggers carefully excavated and leveled the site, then poured out a solid slab foundation of epoxy polymer.
On signal, they went at it with gusto. It didn’t take long to discover that they were actually having fun: his grandfather’s AnchorPlank System slid and snapped together like a full-scale Lego toy. Working side by side, the Bandors and humans realized that far more than a city was being built: the joint venture was blossoming into a mutual admiration of cultures, a true meeting and melding of the powers of mind and body. While the tall, light-framed intellectual Bandors marveled at the human’s brute strength, the rugged, impulsive Earthlings stood in awe of the Bandors’ unsurpassed logic, attention to detail, and intuitive knowledge of construction technique. Hundreds of Bandors, old and young, were enthusiastically joining the effort. This city was to be a test for them, too. As the Bandors took over to finish the most technical details with nimble, flying fingers, the crew could only step back and watch in amazement.
Five days later, as it began to resemble some kind of final form, Adam suddenly, unexpectedly called a halt. They stopped dead in their tracks, shocked and puzzled.
Winking mysteriously, he informed them that the waterfront city was complete, and then scurried away with a mischievous glint in his eye.
Complete? It looked weird, unfinished! Was this some kind of a master plan? They stepped away, studying the vast, ring-shaped central form with its beautiful, yet seemingly haphazard shapes. Complete? Set at precise points along X, Y, and Z-axes, the intriguing, slant-fronted openings-to-nowhere jutted awkwardly toward an empty, windswept, central plaza. As they gathered in small groups, questions began to fly thickly. Was this his idea of a joke? Sure, it had been enjoyable work, but the results looked deranged. Was there more to it?
Suddenly, a loud beep sounded on everyone’s wrist communicators. It was Adam! As they listened in surprise, he informed them it would be only a matter of minutes before the ‘final union’ took place. Union? What union? And where was he, anyhow?
