“You've got to be kidding me! Benny, get your damn lasers out now! We've got serious company,” Daverex yelled as time slowed again for him, allowing him to shoot three more of the determined pseudocarrion dead out of the sky.

  BeN-E turned and pointed his lasers skyward, saying, “Suck on this, pond scum!” He then shot both lasers, though he only had time to do so once since time could not slow for him. And though he had only some basic firearms training under Gaston, BeN-E did still manage to shoot one of the pseudocarrion in its left wing with one of his lasers and another one in the chest with the other.

  “I appreciate your enthusiastic battle cry, Benny—which I assume is a programming nuance courtesy of good old Gassy—but we do have to work on your combat training if we ever get out of here alive.”

  “That would be beneficial to my programming.”

  “You're welcome, Benny.”

  Daverex and BeN-E both managed to get out of the way of the five falling bodies, but then two of the four pseudocarrion that remained dug their powerful talons into Daverex's shoulders and started to lift him off the ground. Luckily, the tear proofing of the suit lived up to its implied promise. He looked up at one of them and then tried to aim his laser pistol at its head. Before he could get a shot off, however, the bird pecked violently at his gun hand, causing him to drop his weapon. “Damn it, Benny,” he yelled. Why aren't you shooting at these...these asswipes!?”

  “Upper limbs fully disconnected...Ocular sensory systems failing.”

  Daverex looked down to see BeN-E on his back, pinned down under the weight of the final two pseudocarrion who were violently pecking at his eyes. Then he saw both of BeN-E's arms torn from their sockets and lying on the ground next to him.

  “Jesus, Benny! No! You ugly sons of bitches! I'll kill you! I'll kill you all, I swear!” Daverex desperately tried jerking himself free of the pseudocarrion's grasp, but was rewarded only with several harshly painful warning pecks on his head, which he felt through his helmet. “Hang in there Benny! I'll come back for you!”

  “Ocular sensory systems offline,” was the last thing Daverex heard BeN-E say before being slammed into the side of a cliff and knocked unconscious by the two pseudocarrion.

  * * *

  Daverex lazily opened his eyelids halfway some time later and saw himself surrounded by a huge nest of intertwined withered tree branches and tumbleweed. His eyes started to close, but before he could slip back into unconsciousness, the sound of one of the pseudocarrion flopping about in the throes of death next to him brought him back to full awareness. The bird had a makeshift spear lodged in its chest and was set upon by a tall woman covered in a thick grease and heavily patched tan overalls. She was feverishly removing its head with what appeared to be a hacksaw. Daverex yelled something unintelligible at her and was shocked when she lifted her head to look at him. She was wearing the face of a pseudocarrion tightly over her own. Daverex then saw the other pseudocarrion with a makeshift spear lodged in its chest also, and a tall man also covered in a thick grease and wearing heavily patched tan overalls and a pseudocarrion mask. The man was hastily shoving the severed head of his fresh pseudocarrion kill into a burlap sack. Daverex wanted to ask what the hell was going on, but lost consciousness again before he could get the words out.

  When he next came to, Daverex's face was bumping repeatedly into the backside of the tall man. Daverex had hurt his neck when he slammed into the cliff, making it very painful to turn his face away from the man's backside, but it was worth it to avoid direct contact with the man's terrible stench. That's when Daverex saw a headless pseudocarrion being carried over a shoulder of the tall man. Daverex realized with a cringe that he was being carried over the man's other shoulder. The motion of being carried combined with the site of the headless pseudocarrion and the stenches of filth and death was enough to make him retch and then pass out all over again.

  Daverex awoke to a blurred vision of a beautiful, but pale, blond-haired, blue-eyed woman dressed in white and looking down at him. She had what appeared to be a halo above her head and she smiled when she saw his eyes open.

  “Am I in Heaven?” Daverex asked as he blinked into focus.

  “No,” the woman said as she dabbed something cold and wet along Daverex's forehead, “You are in Facility One, which lies within a dome that stretches just beyond eyesight. We call it The Grove.” She tilted her head and the halo was revealed to be a bright overhead lamp. Daverex realized then that she was wearing a white smock and that there was a female and a male child similarly dressed standing at her side. The woman lifted Daverex's hand and moved it to her left breast. He could already feel some excitement stirring in him at her delicate touch as she said, “I am Sister Tillage. This is little Iris and Banyan. Who are you?”

  The events leading up to Daverex being here seemed to have washed away from his memory the moment this enchanting woman smiled at him, at least he hoped it was that and not the result of a concussion. It took him a moment to even remember his name. “I am Daverex Newell. I come from a planet called Earth. I mean you no harm.” He felt rather ridiculous saying that, but it was the first thing that came to mind, having read countless science fiction stories over the years.

  Her eyes widened. “I know of this Earth! The Grove and Facility One came from there! Oh, this is very exciting news! I suspected you were a Founder when my Reapers spoke of the withering ray emitted by your hand that ended the growth of the beast when you first arrived from that strange door with no walls, but now I know it to be true! We have all prayed and prepared for your arrival for so very long!” She removed his hand from her breast and kissed it excitedly. He looked at his hand and for the first time, he noticed that he was not wearing his environmental suit.

  “Please, calm down”, Daverex said. “None of what is happening here makes sense to me. May I ask you some questions?”

  “Naturally, Founder. Forgive me. I will restrain my enthusiasm. I have read and studied every book and manual provided within Facility One. I am knowledgeable in many things, I believe you will be proud to learn.”

  “First of all, call me Daverex.”

  “As you wish, Daverex.”

  “Where is the suit I was wearing? I need it to survive on this planet, and for that matter, how can I be alive right now without it? How can you be alive without protection?”

  “Your suit was removed for a cleansing and is now drying outside.” Sister Tillage gestured towards a sign above the entrance of the long tree-and-plant-filled room they were in. She and the two children spoke the words written on the sign in perfect harmony, “Decontaminate Before Entering Facility”. “You too were cleansed,” Sister Tillage went on, “as my Reapers bared witness to the sin of withering by your hand. We are both alive and well within the benevolent environmental protection of The Grove and Facility One. It is a hydroponic farm built here several lifetimes ago, before the End Times, to praise the glory of AgriCorp, The Grower of Life by...” Sister Tillage gestured towards another sign on a side of the farm building as she and the two children spoke the engraved words in perfect harmony, “Feeding the world through off-world farming. AgriCorp Cares.”

  Daverex was feeling more than a little uncomfortable about all this, but also felt it best not to stir a potential hornet's nest of misguided fanatics armed with sharp spears and hacksaws. “What did you mean when you said your Reapers bared witness to my sin of withering?”

  “Please, forgive my impertinence, Founder Daverex. I was merely following the edict of my tribe since you did end the growth of a beast when you first arrived.”

  “End the growth of a beast?... Oooh! You mean killing the razorback. That's what I'm calling the beast. You have to understand, it was kill or be killed. I was fighting for my life.”

  “Kill, you say? That word sounds as harsh as the act itself. I do understand your need to...kill, but you did not plant its flesh as compost to feed the ground. That is the sin of which I speak. Once I knew you were a Founder, I figured you had reasons that are your own for this sacrileges neglect. Still, you must be aware that this is a sin against our edict, are you not?”

  The look of concern on Sister Tillage's face caused Daverex to worry that she may no longer see him as a so-called founder, which could be hazardous to his health. “Yes I am. It is I who must ask you for forgiveness, Sister Tillage. My head is wounded, as you can tell, and I fear I have lost some memories as a result, even fundamental ones it would seem.”

  “I understand. Let us put this behind us for the positive growth of us all.” Sister Tillage smiled.

  Daverex lifted his left arm to try and scratch his head as he processed what he learned so far and thought of what to ask next, only to discover his arm was in a splint, making bending his elbow impossible. “Why is my arm in a splint?”

  “It was badly sprained when our Reapers found you.”

  The mention of Reapers reminded Daverex of the creepy pseudocarrion masks they were both wearing. “Your Reapers were wearing the faces of the creatures they were hunting. Why?”

  Sister Tillage laughed briefly. “That must have been quite a sight for you to take in. You see, the facial flesh of that creature acts as a natural filter against the harsh elements of this world, making it safe to breathe, plus the masks have served us well against the blasphemers who come to steal our sacred Grower's Orb.”

  “What is The Grower's Orb and who are these blasphemers?”

  “The Grower's Orb is a blessed device which called forth with a saintly melody a force so powerful that the ground split open. Then seemingly endless hot water gushed upward from several places in the ground...” Sister Tillage pointed out the three places within Facility One, which Daverex could clearly now see were small erupting hot springs “...and came showering down to nourish our once withered plants, trees and crops.” The two children clapped their hands together and then wiggled their fingers to represent the gushing up and then showering down of the hot springs. “The blasphemers...”, Sister Tillage continued as she and the children sneered, “...are off-world deceivers in many guises who come to either sneak away with The Grower's Orb or take it by force. They will never succeed!” The two children crossed their arms and shook their heads no.

  The Grower's Orb sounded suspiciously to Daverex like The Sphere of the Fallen he sought. Could it really be that he stumbled upon it so recklessly, despite best laid plans?

  “Do you feel well enough to meet the rest of the tribe, Founder Daverex?”, Sister Tillage asked. “They are most anxious to meet you.”

  “Absolutely!” Daverex said as he practically leapt out of the cot he was lying in. “I would like to see The Grower's Orb for myself first, however, if that is allowed.”

  “It is located at the far end of Facility One. I shall take you to it with great pleasure.” Sister Tillage took Daverex's hand into hers and the same excited feeling returned to him as they walked. The male child walked between them and the female child walked at her other side.

  “Do these children go everywhere with you?”, Daverex asked.

  “Indeed. They are my brave protectors; my little guardian angels. They make sure no one takes advantage of me or my kind gestures. I call them the thorns at my side.” Sister Tillage laughed.

  More like the thorns in my backside if I ever try to make a move on you, I'm guessing, Daverex thought.

  As they walked the length of the building, Daverex took note of the many children – at least two dozen – busily pruning, plucking, weeding and generally caring for the myriad of plants, trees and crops growing in the enormous building known as Facility One. “Do all of the children in your...group work here?”

  “All of the children in our Grove toil greatly for our continued Growth, yes. It teaches them discipline, faith and reverence. Their time is divided among this, Grove defense practice, schooling, and, naturally, nourishment and sleeping.”

  “Do they ever play?”

  “That activity is blended with Grove defense practice. We find that blending them makes for a more natural...more instinctual...defense of our blessed Grove.”

  A few moments later, they arrived at The Growers Orb, which Daverex was surprised to see sticking up halfway out of the ground, exposed and unprotected; certainly vulnerable to thievery. He was at the same time excited to see that it matched the description Gaston gave him of The Sphere of the Fallen. Yet, with all of the buildup of the 'sacred object', with it representing the core of an entire belief system by which an entire people lived, Daverex expected to be somehow awed by it. He wasn't. He quickly decided, however, that he had better pretend to be or risk offending Sister Tillage and everyone capably wielding a sharp weapon.

  “Is The Grower's Orb not glorious to behold?” Sister Tillage clasped her hands together and the children wrapped their little arms around her thighs as though they struggled to contain their enthusiasm for the sake of reverence. “I see it every day and yet its glory never fades from my eyes.”

  “It is indeed glorious,” said Daverex. In truth, it looked like just a palm-sized glass orb, with white ashes floating in a translucent red liquid, and it sat atop a metal base the color of dried blood. It was simple in design save for a rather intricate carving of a maze pattern on all sides of the base. The most awe-inspiring thing about it was an indescribable aura of power that radiated from it, a power Daverex had a feint desire to possess.

  Sister Tillage said, “The origins of The Grower's Orb are unknown even to me, despite countless combined hours of daily prayer and reflection by all within The Grove. All that is known is that The Grower's Orb arrived three life cycles ago on the very spot where it now lies and has been unmoved ever since.”

  “What's to prevent someone from plucking it from the ground like a ripe melon?” Daverex asked, thinking Sister Tillage would appreciate the melon analogy because of her reverence of crops.

  “This,” Sister Tillage said as she picked up a nearby stick from the ground and tapped the orb with it. A dozen thick and thorny vines immediately shot down from the ceiling and coiled tightly around the stick, surprising Daverex.

  “Impressive.”

  “The vines are telepathically linked to me, so I can sense if any harm comes to them or if they trap anyone. Then I can summon my loyal Reapers on the blasphemers should they attempt to flee.”

  “What if the blasphemer who gets trapped is immediately replaced by another?”

  “More vines will react no matter how many times The Grower's Orb is touched, so it doesn't matter how many blasphemers attempt to steal it, whether separately or all at once,” Sister Tillage said with confidence as she dropped the stick and the vines retreated back up to the ceiling. “Come. It is time you met with my Reapers.”

  Daverex turned to follow Sister Tillage and the two thorns at her sides, but then looked back at the orb, thinking that if he could play along as a Founder just a bit longer, maybe he could get the lovely Sister Tillage to hand it over to him without so much as a raised eyebrow.

  CHAPTER SIX

  It was a deeply dark and starless night outside of Facility One and it took Daverex a few moments to allow his eyes to adjust from the intense artificial brightness he had grown accustomed to since awakening in this strange place. The first thing he noticed was a huge, roaring bonfire close by before him. It was surrounded by a hundred or more Reapers, all dressed in the familiar heavily patched tan overalls and pseudocarrion face masks. Every one of them knelt and bowed their heads when they saw Daverex, even the few who were busy cooking pseudocarrion meat on the bonfire. Daverex fought back the intense urge to retch from the smoky stench wafting from the bonfire. He didn't think a Founder would ever retch in front of a group of Reavers.

  One of the Reapers then walked forward from somewhere way in the back, beyond Daverex's sight, and said, “Blessed greetings, Founder. It is a great pleasure to finally lay eyes upon you. I am Brother Harvest.” As he spoke those last four words, Daverex finally saw him for the first time. He was as striking a figure as Sister Tillage, with the same comforting smile that made one instantly trust him on a very deep level.

  Daverex looked over at Sister Tillage and said, “How can Brother Harvest know I'm a Founder?”

  “He is literally my brother. We are identical twins and we both share a telepathic bond with each other as well as with all the trees and plants that grow within The Grove of Facility One.”

  Daverex nodded knowingly and turned his attention back to the man approaching him, “Blessed greetings Brother Harvest. Please, call me Daverex.”

  “Very well,” Brother Harvest said before taking Daverex's hand into his and kissing it as would seem their custom. “Come. I invite you to nourish with us.” He gestured toward the meat cooking on the bonfire.

  “I couldn't possibly,” Daverex said, stumbling for an excuse, “I... over-nourished earlier in the day.”

  “I cannot deny that I am disappointed by your refusal, Daverex, as are all of us. The meat is fresh.”

 

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