The First Sender

A Cry In The Dark



    Vitalan nearly fell as he was roughly hit in the back. He rubbed his sore back and glared at the obnoxious Ort, responsible for his pain. The Ort purred in it's rhythmic reverberating speech and made a threatening gesture with the punishment wand. Vitalan reluctantly turned and marched ahead, matching steps with the other prisoners. The long line of trudging prisoners could be seen for half a mile, to where the line disappeared around a mound of dirt ahead.
    As he marched and watched for a means of escape, Vitalan took an inventory of those around him. Scattered among the prisoners were a sampling of the entire known universe. He saw large, lumbering Malkens, thought to be mindless beasts until just recently. Braaa, tall and slender, looking much like the shading foliage they now passed, were harried as they stumbled along on slender root-like tentacles. The tentacles were not designed for speed, and the Braaa were paying for their handicap. Vitalan never knew anyone who had seen the home world of the Braaa. He could not imagine a planet which would spawn such nightmarish intelligent plants.
    Humanoids of all shapes and sizes, some similar to Vitalan, made up the bulk of the prisoners. He could see some of his planet's colonists sprinkled here and there among them. Desha was nowhere in sight. Considering the treatment they were receiving Vitalan thought this might be for the best, because if he had seen his beloved being mistreated there would be no hope of his survival.
    Vitalan and his fellow Recetians resembled their Ort captors in a few subtle ways. Vitalan himself had long brown hair, blue eyes and a classic nose. He was strong from long hours of farm work, then recent military training after the war started. The Ort, on the other hand, were short, bald, and had a short piggish nose set between small round eyes.
    There were old myths that Vitalan and his people came from a long-lost planet called Earth, and his species of humans had spread across the galaxy. But they had never made contact with others of his species, so the myth was stoutly refuted.
    A bright explosion drew all eyes to the distant horizon. They watched as a burning ship approached and passed overhead. Two Ort ships soon appeared, firing laser bolts at the crippled Recetian ship. Before they could see the results, the trio passed out of sight over the far horizon.
    "They aren't taking Receties without a fight," Vitalan mumbled to himself.
    "Fighting does little good, the ranks of the Ort are countless," a voice said to his right. Vitalan squinted through the darkness until he saw the speaker. He was Equasian. The thickly-haired forehead and black, leathery skin were barely visible in the dim light of evening. Vitalan was thankful that he could not see the Equasian clearly, because the black, slitted eyes, perpetual smile, and pointed ears reminded him of the mythical demons passed down in his bible.
    "There must be a limit to their numbers. Before they downed my fighter we were killing them at a rate of five to every one of our casualties. There must be a point where they will cut their losses and run."
    "Never. My people have been fighting them for fifteen generations, that's seventeen hundred of your years."
    "So long?" Vitalan felt the hopelessness settle over him.
    "The old ones, those who settled the galaxy at the dawn of time, fought them for eons. At first, they were evenly matched, natural enemies from the beginning of time. But the Ort won that battle and have been conquering unmolested since their defeat. We estimate that they now completely inhabit three entire galaxies. That is the bulk of their forces and that is why they can't be defeated. You are pitting a pathetic million small fighters against the forces of several billion inhabited planets."
    "What are our options, surrender?"
    "Perhaps. We did not, but perhaps we were wrong. Our race are few and scattered, considered evil by mos%wbeings."
    "I know, I've heard the stories," Vitalan shivered.
    "As we have heard the stories of your people. Let's see, I've heard rumors of human sacrifices, head hunters, cannibals, slave traders, and scientists who cut up other species to see how they work. Are any of them true?"
    "No! Well long ago, maybe. I have heard similar stories of my own ancestors, hundreds of generations ago on a place called Earth. But none really believe the stories."
    "So the stories may be true?"
    "No! We can't be held responsible for what our distant ancestors did."
    "Ah," the Equasian said with a quiet chuckle.
    "You mean the same thing applies to you?"
    "Yes. I have heard the stories of cannibalism, torture and dissection of living beings, and humanoid food farms. They may have applied a dozen centuries ago, but I guarantee that none of my ancestors can remember such practices. We certainly don't practice them now. In fact, given a choice, we live much like you do and have for seventy million years."
    "I'm sorry, I didn't realize... My people consider it a known fact that an Equasian can never be trusted around human children, they would be abducted and eaten. I have never know anybody who doubted that, not even me until just a moment ago."
    "I'm sorry to tell you that humans give off a salty, sour smell to our sensitive nostrils, that make them absolutely revolting to us," he tapped his huge nose with an apologetic smile. "You couldn't pay one of our people to even stand close to a human for long periods of time, much less eat one," Vitalan could hear the humor in his words.
    Vitalan felt immediate anger at the words, then the humor of the situation sank in and he laughed quietly with the Equasian. It was a strange, somewhat frightening sound to those trudging along the road of churned sand and dust. There were several superstitions glances from those convinced that anyone who laughed under such horrible circumstances must be insane.
    The darkness of full night had fallen and Vitalan could no longer see the Equasian, who was just an arms-length away. The sound of plodding footsteps, coughs, moans, and cries, were punctuated by the whining, crackling snap of punishment wands. The southern horizon suddenly lit with a barrage of distant missile fire. Vitalan's horrified glance went to the horizon as he realized that Menatra, their capital city, was now under attack. Desha was in Mentara, he had sent her there for her protection.
    They finally arrived at the alien prison, which was a honeycomb of metal rooms shaped in rings, stacked one on top of the other and connected by a series of rickety metal ladders and walkways. Vitalan didn't take the time to look around, he mindlessly climbed the dangerous metal ladder until he found an empty nook, crawled inside, and fell asleep without eating.
    His dreams were plagued by visions of Desha burning and screaming as she ran through the streets of Mentara. Buildings crashed down around her, missiles exploded everywhere, and still she ran endlessly burning and screaming, her outstretched hands reaching for Vitalan, but never finding him.
    In his sleep, Vitalan screamed her name and reached out to take her extended hands, but they were always just out of his reach.
    Hour after hour he screamed her name and reached for her, but her body was obscured by flames, her eyes burned and sightless. She continued to run and scream until Vitalan shot upright, awake and shaking. He was dripping with sweat and heard the shouted complaints of those trying to sleep around him. Shaking with uncontrolled fear, Vitalan climbed down the hundred foot long ladder to the cement floor below and made his way to the central fountain. He threw water over his face and shoulders, then bent and drank deeply. In a few moments he stopped shaking and sat limply on the edge of the fountain.
    The Reglasian appeared out of the dimness and drank briefly, then stood looking at Vitalan.
    "I was not aware that humans possessed the gift," the Equasian said in a whisper.
    "The gift?"
    "The power of the mind. I have been unwillingly sharing your dreams all night. Who is she?"
    "My fiance. She was to be my wife next month."
    "A mate?"
    "Yes."
    "She is safe. Her burns have been treated."
    "How do you know?" Vitalan shot upright. The Equasian hushed him quickly and stepped closer, then wrinkled his long, curved nose and quickly stepped back again. Vitalan had been sweating badly during his nightmare.
    "I could see her clearly in your dreams. It was no great task to locate her from your description. She was not as badly burned as you visualized, but you probably know that already."
    "You can see her?" Vitalan was amazed.
    "Yes. And you?"
    "No, I have only my dreams."
    "Your gift is strong, but needs refinement then. You could potentially be our means of escape."
    "By dreaming?" Vitalan asked cynically.
    "No. You have no idea of your potential, do you?"
    "I don't even know what you're talking about," Vitalan said resentfully.
    "You will in time. I have been in many Ort prisons over the past decade, I know how they work. They will feed us, carry off the dead, but for the most part, we will be ignored, left to fend for ourselves. It's their way. Unless they need work parties, of course. Never volunteer for a working party, never consider it a means of escape. The Ort work their prisoners to death, then come back for new replacements as needed. There is no escape. Also, never inhabit the top 100 levels of any prison. These prisons are designed to be dismantled from the top down for salvage in case they have an emergency need for metal. They don't warn the prisoners before hauling off and melting the upper levels."
    "Thanks, that would be a horrible way to die."
    "Death is of no importance, it is simply a transition from this dimension to the next. But there is no need to make your transition any more painful than it has to be.
    I must sleep now. My race uses sleep to contact others of my species. I need to catch up on the news.
    Just remember, your dreams are real, to a certain extent. The next time you dream, try to reach out to her. In time you will succeed. It is the best way to develop your power, at the moment. When you succeed, I'll help you more."
    "I think you're crazy," Vitalan growled as he surveyed the round wall of nooks, and the transparent dome above. The stars were out, blinking as if nothing as amiss. "But I'll try," Vitalan relented and climbed the ladder to his nook.
    Princess Artine Triston stared at the wall in open-eyed horror. Her slender hand clutched the Amparis Staff in a death- grip. She suddenly gasped and threw the staff away from her, then sat with her sweaty face between her hands. Mark found her that way as he entered their wing of the Triston mansion.
    "Arty, what's wrong?" he rushed over to her side and knelt down beside her. He pushed aside her wet hair and bent to look in her eyes.
    "The consciousness. It's all wrong, dark and perverted. Something horrible is happening, Mark. Billions of beings have been affected. It's filled with so much pain and suffering. The grief and hate is overpowering."
    "Is it something to do with your father?"
    "No... no it's not him, they feel alien. Many different peoples are affected. I can feel two in particular, one human and another who is very strange, but very strong. But the one thing these beings all have in common is absolute hopelessness."
    "I'm sorry, dear, I didn't mean to put you through this. I only wanted to see if we were still traceable in the consciousness. From now on you should only use the staff to travel."
    "No, Mark, this can't be ignored. We must help, if we can."
    "Help with something that billions of beings can't handle. I doubt if we could do anything."
    "We might, with the staff. Don't forget the power it holds."
    "Don't worry, I'll never forget that. It caused us enough grief all by itself."
    "It wasn't the staff, it was that horrible man who used it."
    "Well that same horrible man spoke of cosmic battles of good against evil. Could this have anything to do with that?"
    "Yes. Yes, I think it is. It's on such a vast scale. Entire galaxies are involved."
    "Oh Lord, Arty, what are you getting us into?"
    "I don't know, love, but I'm afraid."
    "If it scares you, then it frightens the hell out of me. Let's call an emergency meeting."
    "You had no further dreams," the Equasian greeted Vitalan the next morning.
    "No, Desha seems to be at ease now. No more dreams."
    "That's too bad --- for your sake, not hers. Come, I will familiarize you with the Ort provisions. You don't want to eat a Braaa meal, it's toxic to humanoids."
    "How do you... say, what is your name, anyway?"
    "To you it would sound like a growl. Why don't you name me?"
    "Ah, how about Sean? That's good take-off from Equasian, in my language."
    "Fair enough. I like it."
    "Anyway, how do you face each day? Ten years of imprisonment would be unbearable to me."
    "Why? You still breath the same air, you still eat and drink. You can still enjoy the sunrise, the stars at night, the companionship of a good conversation. You can still think and dream, like before, and have a lot more free time on your hands. What more do you need?"
    "Freedom?"
    "And just how free were you before? When was the last time you took a stroll through the forest?"
    "Well, never, really. I grew up on a farm, the work..." Vitalan trailed off, knowing that Sean had a point, and not liking the idea.
    "Freedom is a state of mind. Physical freedom, the ability to do what you want, is lost after early childhood. Even then most of us were chastised for saying or doing the wrong thing, or going to the wrong place. If you think you are free, then you are free."
    "You have a twisted mind," Vitalan said with a smile.
    "As twisted as my face, perhaps?" Sean said with his own smile, which was rather frightening.
    The dreams returned that night. Vitalan consciously reached out to Desha and was successful, to a certain extent. After hours of painful mental strain, he finally sensed Desha responding, just before she came awake in consternation, and the communication ended. Within minutes Vitalan heard hurried footsteps on the metal ladder. Sean appeared outside Vitalan's open cubical. His huge, toothy smile was enough to freeze Vitalan in fear. In a moment he relaxed and wiped the sweat from his face.
    "You did it, Vitalan."
    "I didn't do much. When she sensed me she awoke."
    "It was enough. Today we will work with mental exercises to sharpen your skills."
    "This is hopeless. There is no possible way this can free us. We need a plan."
    "On a planet controlled by Orcs, where would you go? No, you may be our salvation. Have you ever heard of the consciousness?"
    "I don't think so."
    "Well my people are familiar with it and we have been trying to use it for decades. You, with your primitive mind, have unwittingly made that precious contact."
    "Wonderful. Can I sleep now?"
    "Certainly. Sleep is exactly what you need now. We can work later," Sean said with another frightening smile, then disappeared from the entrance.
    
    "So what's so important that you have to wake me at 3:00 o'clock in the morning?" Furen said in a surly mood. "I have first shift at the warehouse today." Mark snorted and handed Furen a cup of coffee.
    "There is trouble in the consciousness," Princess Artine said as she accepted her own cup from Mark.
    "Somebody is looking for us again?" Furen shot upright. The coffee spilled from the edge of his cup and gave him a painful burn. Barbet gave him a "you should know better" look and wiped the coffee up with a silk handkerchief
    "No, but somebody desperately needs help."
    "Why should we get involved? The universe if full of highly advanced civilizations capable of handling almost anything. Let them become targets for a while. We've done more than our share all ready," Furen said and drank quickly.
    Mark cleared his throat. His apologetic glance went from Barbet to Furen.
    "I think she's sensing one of the cosmic battles we were warned about," he said quietly. "We will be involved eventually, whether we like it or not. It may be prudent to handle it outside of our own solar system before our loved ones get involved."
    "That makes sense," Barbet said remembering the fear she felt for her children during her last adventure.
    "Ok. So where is it and what are we fighting?" Furen asked impatiently. He didn't like Barbet getting into danger.
    "I get the feeling that hundreds of races are fighting an unstoppable army. I'm not sure where it is, but I know it's in a dark section of a neighboring galaxy. It's definitely on the outer fringes where there are few stars."
    "If we don't know where it is, how do we find it?" Barbet asked practically.
    "There are two dominant minds in the consciousness," Artine said as she reluctantly picked up the Amparis Staff and fingered it lightly. "The staff can take us to them, as it took our enemy to us."
    "Do you really think we can stop such an army by ourselves?" Furen asked with a skeptical smile.
    "No," the princess said with a decisive shake of her head. "We need all the help we can get. Every fleet and every talent must be involved."
    "You can't mean the children too," Barbet objected.
    "Yes, them and everyone on your planet with talent," Artine nodded. "We will try to keep the children away from danger, of course, but we need their strength."
    "Our plan is too have several hundred ships, with one talent leading each squadron," Mark said. "With the senders on your planet, the talents from Artine's and the seven of us, we could do it."
    "But Chastity is just a baby," Barbet objected. "She's barely six years old."
    "I saw that baby lobbing boulders six feet across, the other day," Mark said with a snort of laughter. "She was dropping them in the river to splash her brother. She nearly drowned him and she changed the course of the river, it's cutting across the corner of our wheat field now."
    "Sorry," Barbet said, turning red in embarrassment.
    "Don't worry about it, I could have stopped her if I wanted too, but she was having so much fun I didn't have the heart. I love her giggle, it's infectious."
    "The little imp," Barbet said in concern and admiration.
    "Well with all the talents gone," Furen said thoughtfully, "we'd better get started now. This is the laxest period of the season. Even then we'll have a backup a mile long at the loading platform. Mark, can you have Lady Chastity make a planet-wide announcement that all further transports will be delayed until we return?"
    "Sure."
    "I need to contact father," Princess Artine said with some apprehension. Even after being married for several months, she was still afraid of her father. Mark was trying to teach her self-reliance, but as long as she lived in her father's shadow, she would never grow to her full potential.
    "I'll go to Raglasia and talk to our people," Furen said, quickly reviewing the list of people he needed to contact, both active and retired senders, and those who showed lesser talents, but were not strong enough to become senders.
    "Gestel is the new First Sender of Reglasia," Barbet reminded him. "You have to ask his permission first."
    "Gestel was on Webster's Citadel long enough to know that the universe is much larger than one small planet. He'll understand that something light years away, can still affect him and our people. Besides," Furen said with a twisted smile, "I'm much stronger than him. If he doesn't cooperate I'll send him to the north pole. I know a nice cave there where he'll be right at home. It would take him weeks to walk to the nearest place of power."
    "Don't you dare," Barbet said with a quick flash of anger. "Gestel helped us when we needed... oh, you're making fun of me again. I'll never..."
    "Father wants to see me," Princess Artine said suddenly and kissed Mark on the cheek. Before they could object she was gone. Then felt her land at the place of power on the loading platform, then she disappeared again. The added strength of the staff took her well out of their limited range to mentally follow her.
    "Daddy called," Mark said sarcastically with a twisted snarl. "Sorry guys, I'm just getting tired of him pulling her strings. I think it's time that he and I came to an understanding."
    Furen and Barbet gave each other a significant look, but didn't dare even think what they were feeling.
    "We will meet here in the morning?" Barbet asked sweetly, trying to distract Mark from his inner thoughts.
    "Yeah, sure, in the morning, let's say... about ten?"
    "Great. I'll go to Reglasia now so they have time to prepare," Furen said and kissed Barbet on the cheek. She took his face roughly in her hands and kissed him soundly on the lips, then pushed him away. Furen disappeared with a devilish smile on his face.
    
    By midnight squadrons of ships began appearing from as far away as Earth. As they floated above Savannah in characteristic military formation, the hundreds of ships looked like Savannah had gained a million stars. Barbet sat in her customary rocking chair and stared up at them as she waited for Furen to return. The insects in the courtyard added their chorus to the night birds in the far-away woods. Barbet felt small and alone as she sat in the darkness and looked up at the sky. She felt Furen appear on the loading platform several miles away. She sent him a mental tendril of warmth so he could follow it back to her. In a moment he appeared, stood swaying for a moment while the vertigo passed, then smiled down at her.
    "Gestel is all for it, love. He is dying for some action. The entire talented population of Reglasia will start arriving at eight in the morning."
    "It looks like the ships have arrived already," she pointed at the sky as she stood and took his hand. "Furen, I'm afraid for the kids. They're so small, so young."
    "It goes with the territory, dear. Lady Chastity told me that you never stop worrying about your children, whether they're five or fifty. She worries about Mark each time he leaves on one of his adventures. It's funny, I somehow thought that once your kids grew up you'd quit worrying."
    "At least we'll be there to watch them," Barbet said, snuggling closer to Furen. "Some day we won't even have that. They'll leave us."
    "Let's get some sleep," Furen said with a huge yawn. "Tomorrow could be rough on us all."
    



Please go to The First Sender, Book 6