Helix (23 page)

Kahran
appeared at the hatch. “Ready?”

Ehrin
laughed nervously. “To tell the truth, I’m not sure. What if it... if
they’re...” But Kahran was already moving away from the dirigible. Ehrin swallowed
his fear and stepped from the cabin, pulling his hood up against the wind and
following Kahran through the snow.

They
paused a few yards from the craft, side-by-side, and stared.

The
vehicle was small—a little larger perhaps than the gondola of the
Expeditor,
but far more streamlined and... alien. This close, Ehrin made out an array of
six rear-mounted engines, their nacelles glowing red hot.

In
the flank of the craft was a triangular window and—Ehrin found this
alarming—there was a faint white light issuing from within.

He
looked at Kahran. The old man wore a wide-eyed, shocked expression, the fur of
his face standing upright with what might have been fear or alarm. Ehrin
wondered if he himself looked as stricken.

Kahran
took his arm. “Shall we take a closer look?”

Ehrin
thought of Sereth, back at the dirigible, of the good citizens of Agstarn going
about their daily business in complete ignorance of this momentous event...

He
stepped forward, Kahran shuffling by his side, and approached the flank of the
craft. Even above the keening of the wind he could hear his boots crunching the
iced snow.

A
yard from the triangular viewscreen, he could see what appeared to be black
leather padding within, and small lights on what might have been an overhead
console.

He
felt his stomach clench as he stepped forward, aware of Kahran right beside
him, and peered into the craft.

What
he saw made him gasp and back away in fright, Kahran clutching his arm in
alarm. Like schoolchildren they approached again, Ehrin’s curiosity overcoming
his apprehension.

A
being lay almost horizontally on some kind of padded couch; its head was
twisted towards the viewscreen, but the being was either dead or unconscious.
Its left leg was bent at an awkward angle, as if broken with the impact of
landing.

It
wore a silver one-piece suit, which was strange enough, but the oddest thing
about the creature was its face. It was black and very wrinkled, its features
scrunched, and totally without hair. It looked at once naked and fearsome
without facial hair, vulnerable and yet paradoxically aggressive.

Kahran
was staring in at the creature, his snout pressed against the glass.

“Is
it dead?” Ehrin asked.

Kahran
shook his head. “No. See, its chest is rising and falling. Just injured, I
suspect.”

“We
ought to be careful. If it regains consciousness and sees us, it might be
hostile.”

Kahran
smiled, more to himself than to Ehrin. “It isn’t hostile,” he said.

Ehrin
looked at him. “How do you know that?”

Kahran
ignored him; he was moving along the flank of the craft, searching for
something. Ehrin followed, Kahran’s words, and now his actions, mystifying him.
“Kahran?”

They
came to the outline of a hatch, flush with the skin of the craft. Inset was a
lever, which Kahran grasped and turned clockwise. There was a sudden hissing
sound from within, and the rectangular hatch seemed to levitate from its
housing. It sighed towards them quickly, swinging outwards and upwards, and
revealed the interior of the craft.

Kahran
stepped through first. Ehrin, panicked, said, “Do you think this is wise?”

Kahran
turned to him. “Believe me, we have nothing to fear.”

Ehrin
followed the old man into the alien ship, wondering what Elder Cannak might
have to say if he could see them now.

A
short corridor took them to the cramped control room where the creature lay,
still unmoving. All was in darkness, the only illumination provided by the tiny
sequencing lights on the various consoles that surrounded the being.

Kahran
knelt beside the creature and felt for its pulse. He looked up and nodded.
“He’s alive.”

Ehrin
could only stare. In the flesh, the creature seemed even more alien and ugly
than when seen through the viewscreen. Also, it emanated a pungent body odour
that Ehrin found unpleasant.

Kahran
reached out and shook the creature’s arm, gently.

Ehrin
found his voice. “You said it wouldn’t be hostile. How can you be certain?”

“They
aren’t,” Kahran said.

“They?”

“They
call themselves the Zorl,” he explained, casting his eye over the creature’s
silver uniform. “They’re a peaceful race.”

Ehrin
leaned against the wall of the control room, then found himself slipping onto
his haunches. He shook his head. “How the hell...” he began, then stopped. “The
expedition to Sorny,” he said with sudden realisation. “The Zorl are from the
western plains, from Sorny?”

Kahran
looked up. He shook his head. “Try again. Try from across the circumferential
sea.”

Ehrin
opened his mouth, but no words came. At last he echoed fatuously, “From across
the circumferential sea?”

Every
child in Agstarn was taught that the world was a platform, which floated in the
grey void. At the very edge of the platform was the circumferential sea, beyond
which was a continuation of the grey, which went on forever without end. As a
boy, Ehrin had tried to envisage eternity, grey without end, going on forever
and ever, but the concept had dizzied and frightened him.

Now
Kahran was telling him that another platform existed beyond the sea, and that
this strange creature hailed from there...

“But
how do you know? I thought you said you went to Sorny—”

Kahran
smiled at him. “Your father and I paused at Sorny, then ventured beyond. Hard
though it is to imagine, we went with the blessing of the Church. Velkor Cannak
and a colonel in the Church militia accompanied us.”

Ehrin
held his head in his hands and stared at his old friend. He had known Kahran
for so long, and yet had hardly known him at all. “Beyond Sorny,” he mouthed in
wonder. “Tell me...”

Kahran
smiled. “We flew over the sea, to another world—”

“Another
platform?”

“Ehrin,
we don’t live on platforms. Imagine...” He stared into space, attempting to
summon a suitable analogy. “Imagine a series of beads on a bracelet. Each bead
is what we think of as a platform, except it isn’t a flat plain but a
cylindrical bead. There are many of these beads side by side, and between each
one is a sea.”

Ehrin
felt his pulse pounding in his forehead. He was aware of his facial fur
standing on end. “A cylindrical bead... But that must mean—let me think about
this... But that means if you travel far enough in one direction, then you’ll
eventually arrive back where you started!” He laughed aloud at the astounding
concept. His mind was in a spin. “And how many of these other worlds exist out
there, on this great bead in the grey?”

Kahran
shook his head. “That I don’t know. We only ever travelled to the next one, to
Zor as the natives called it. For all I know there might even be a dozen or
more. The Zorl we met spoke of at least two others they were aware of...”

Ehrin
stared at his friend. “And you told no one about this?”

Kahran’s
smile was sad. “How could I, with the Church threatening me with death if I so
much as breathed a word?”

Ehrin
closed his eyes, his head filled with bizarre visions. To think of it, that his
own father had actually stepped onto the soil of another world...

“Why
did the Church want to visit this other world? What did you see, Kahran?”

The
old man shrugged. “The Church was led by a different Prelate back then. He was
as much a bastard as Hykell, in fact a bigger bastard, but he at least had
curiosity. He wanted to know if what the Church taught was the literal truth.
Hence the voyage. As to what we found beyond the sea.” He looked up, into
Ehrin’s eyes, and his expression was bleak. “We found an advanced civilisation
of beings...” He gestured to the unconscious alien on the couch. “The Zorl. But
their world was devastated. They had fought a war between themselves with
weapons so powerful and terrible that we cannot imagine their like, weapons
that laid waste to entire cities, killing millions in one strike, and which
left a lingering illness in the air which eventually accounted for the
survivors.” He shook his head. “The sights we saw, your father and I, the
devastation, the piled remains of beings long dead in the ruined cities that
lined the coast... There were survivors, pitiful souls living like savages
among the debris. We communicated with them as best we could, but of course
they didn’t speak our language. We found...” he paused, then went on, “we found
strange flying machines, and what we took to be the weapons of annihilation,
tall columns that we guessed were launched like firework rockets. My lasting
image is of the people who survived, who lived among the objects of their
world’s downfall. They were as pitiful as animals, Ehrin.”

Ehrin
recalled what his father had written in the letter to his mother, fifteen years
ago.
I have neither the space nor the time to describe here the terrible
things K and I have seen today...

“My
father wrote to my mother, hinting at the things you saw...”

Kahran
said, “Imagine, Ehrin. We were no young pups, wet behind the ears. We were
learned men of the world. For all our experience, however, we knew nothing.
Imagine discovering the truth about the universe, that we were not alone, and
then discovering a race that had all but destroyed itself?”

Ehrin
shook his head. “I cannot begin to imagine what it must have been like to
witness at first hand.” He looked up. “And then you returned, and the Church
swore you to secrecy?”

Kahran
nodded. “We protested, of course. We argued that the truth had to be told—if
for nothing else, then as a warning to ourselves what the folly of power might
wreak upon civilisation. But the Church wanted none of that; it had power, and
supposed knowledge, and anything that subverted that knowledge with contrary
facts of course threatened to weaken that power.” He looked down at his right
hand, from which the fingernails had been ripped, and Ehrin was shocked to see
tears in his old friend’s eyes.

He
looked away, and his gaze rested on the creature—the Zorl—on the control couch.
He took in the array of consoles that filled the craft, the sleek workmanship,
the baffling instruments. “And now this,” he murmured. “A Zorl from across the
circumferential sea has come to our backward world.”

“A
return visit, as it were,” Kahran said.

“But
if its world was devastated as you said...”

“Perhaps
they have rebuilt, or areas of it survived annihilation.”

“Are
you sure that this creature is a Zorl? Could it not be from a world beyond Zor even?”

Ehrin
stopped and stared, for the creature, perhaps disturbed by their words, was
stirring, attempting to lift itself into a sitting position upon the couch. It
blinked huge black eyes at Ehrin and said, “We are Zorl,” in a thick, almost
incomprehensible dialect.

Ehrin
found himself backing away, pushing himself even further against the wall, the
hackles on the back of his neck bristling with fear.

Kahran
was staring at the creature. “You... you speak our language?”

The
being looked from Ehrin to Kahran. Its crumpled, wrinkled features were
expressionless. It possessed eyes, nose, a mouth and ears, as did Ehrin’s
people—but its nose was a squashed affair, mere nostrils on the surface of its
face, while its ears were small and flattened against the side of its head.
Ehrin had never seen anything as ugly in his life, and that included the wild
mountain zeer.

It
spoke again, a gravelly rumble. “We have been watching you from afar. Some of
us studied your language.”

Ehrin
wanted to ask why, and what the Zorl wanted here, but something stopped him. He
stared at the pilot, down its silvered length to the buckled mess of its right
leg.

The
Zorl followed his gaze, its liquid black eyes focusing on the limb. He gestured
to Kahran. “There. On the wall. Pass me the...” He said a word Ehrin didn’t
understand, but he was pointing at a square of material as black as the rest of
the ship’s fittings.

Kahran
detached it from the wall and passed it to the Zorl.

Ehrin
watched as the alien, grunting in pain, managed to straighten the broken limb.
Then he took the dark material and wrapped it around his injured leg; it
appeared to tighten, compress, and the Zorl lay back with a sigh of relief.

He
looked from Ehrin to Kahran, then reached out and touched something on a console
to his right.

Beyond
the corridor, the hatch eased shut with a hiss.

Ehrin’s
heart skipped a beat.

“A
precaution only,” said the Zorl.

Ehrin
found himself nodding, as if to placate the alien. If its physical appearance
were not alarming enough, Ehrin found the advanced technology it had at its
disposal even more disturbing.