Moon 514- Blaze and the White Griffon Page 4

  “What if the right thing is getting back to her family – if she has a family – or her people and letting our violent race go extinct?” Blaze questioned in return. “What if we just talk to Dr. Boyd about taking everyone with us? Do you …”

  “Really?” Evelia interjected. “Did you hear him threaten me yesterday? Did you not understand his warning about telling the others? He has no intent to help them. He is letting nature take its inevitable course remember? No, we either fight Dr. Boyd on our own, with the help of the Order, or with the help of this magic woman we have never met.”

  Inside, Blaze knew Evelia was right. And he wanted to agree with her – whatever the subject matter might be. But he also did not want Evelia to be right in this thing. He wanted yesterday’s paradigm back. He wanted hope. He wanted to venture outside the Order for survivors, for good people. But that hope was gone now. The survivors were planning on exterminating the Order – and the Order was larger than Blaze had ever dreamed – and Dr. Boyd was only going to take the few dozen healthy people alive to another planet to start anew. In theory, the idea seemed innocuous – it almost seemed exciting. But somehow, the tone of Dr. Boyd’s voice and the tone of his journal entry somehow precluded the rosy interpretation Blaze wanted to impute upon this situation. Deep inside, his instincts were screaming for him to listen to Evelia’s counsel – despite his mental misgivings and despite the unpleasant realities that her counsel entailed. A fight was brewing and the only help they had was a bunch of people who would have a very hard time accepting the truth or a total stranger from another planet, another solar system, perhaps even another galaxy. No expert of astronomy, Blaze had no rock solid understanding of where the alien may have originated.

  “Some people in the Order will believe us; some may be wise enough to offer some good ideas,” Blaze began with a very pondersome and somber voice, “but this magic woman – whatever her real name is – this woman will know about the natives; she will know about space exploration and she will probably know details about Dr. Boyd’s plans that we will have to know if we have any hope to stop him from condemning all of our friends and family to an inevitable death.” He paused for a long time, deep in thought – so deep that Evelia didn’t dare interrupt him. Then, lifting his head out of his hands, pushing his elbows away from his knees, and looking at Evelia very intently, he asked the only question that really mattered: “Are you willing to entrust an alien woman we have never met with information that will irrevocably place all of our lives in danger?”

  “Do we have any other real choice?” she queried, crossing her legs, placing her head in her hands, and looking up at Blaze with blank eyes. Blaze pushed aside his feelings for Evelia, pushed aside his crush, pushed aside his every desire to just spend time with her and hang out – to forget his troubles. Hundreds of lives depended on him now – he couldn’t let them down by being distracted by personal interests.

  Meeting her gaze for a very long time before answering, he finally acknowledged the inevitable: “I guess not.” Then, as he watched Evelia bite her lower lip and raise her eyebrows with a look of anticipation, he added, “It sounds like Dr. Boyd has visited her at all times of the day – but who knows how often he visits her – and it sounds like the trip there might be very dangerous. Can you look up our exact location in relation to various ponds and lakes around here so that we can get our bearings before setting out? It might take a few days but I will look up medicinal plants around Borneo, update my database, and get some supplies if you …”

  “I can do better than that,” Evelia interrupted. “I traced the source of the transmission last night. It looks like Dr. Boyd has some affinity for that outcropping he mentioned in his journal entry … at least, I hope it is the same one. I looked at satellite imagery predating the Third Holocaust and the source of the transmission was located at an outcropping overlooking a small lake or pond – just like the transmission described. If this is a special – or sacred – place to the magic woman, it seems likely that she will visit it often. It sounds like she was performing some sort of ritual there when Dr. Boyd first met her so I am guessing she goes there often – and the transmission said that Dr. Boyd met her there on at least a few occasions so all we have to do is …”

  “Make sure Dr. Boyd does not know that we are missing and make sure that he does not find us there,” Blaze finished.

  “Right. I’ve been thinking about that too…”

  “No contractions,” Blaze impulsively interrupted, suddenly, but only briefly regretting that he had taken apprentice. “Sorry, I guess that is not so important right now. I …”

  “Right,” she started again unperturbed, “Fifteen years ago, there was an illness that swept through the Order – I barely remember it – but I looked up the symptoms, looked at some combinations of herbs that mimic the rash, and got some information that will get us quarantined for at least a couple weeks. That should give us time enough to meet the magic woman.”

  “There is a good reason you are so highly regarded,” Blaze blurted before he could stop himself. “You are brilliant.”

  Evelia smiled. This is going to work.

  “Oh,” she added, “I also found where they keep the complete database.”

  THE MAGIC WOMAN LAY AWAKE, eyes closed but ears acutely attuned to the soft patter of rain, the plodding of flying insects grounded by the moisture, the occasional splashing from mammals shaking water off their soaked fur, the croaking of various species of frogs, and the musical sounds of exotic birds calling to one another. Her large waterlogged eyelashes threatened not to open because of the extra water weight but she soon had her eyes carefully slit to observe her environment without moving. Nothing unusual, she observed. Frogs, lizards, snakes, monkeys, and several other critters moved around in apparent silence, their sound covered by the white noise sloshing all around them. This was her new home.

  She grabbed some berries next to where she lay and passed them to her mouth with her tail, greedily absorbing the succulent flavors of the local delicacies. Her environment safe, her consciousness surfacing more clearly each moment, and her rested muscles ready for movement, she sat up and considered her plans for the day as she continued to ingest berries by the dozens. For other species in this jungle, it was a dangerous thing to lay next to a berry bush to sleep but for those on the top of the pecking order, it was less foolhardy.

  But neither was it risk free.

  Although local creatures recognized her as the top predator in the area, she still had to be wary as sleeping predators can also be considered prey by those with the disposition to think so. And with so many new species created by the rogue gene splicing team, there really was no security based on status here in the deep jungles of Borneo. She constantly monitored the movement of life and energy around her; it kept her safe.

  Not yet ready to stand up, she began her daily routine of meditating while stretching. Legs split, face resting on the ground, and arms pointed behind her and towards the sky, she held her tail while carefully and methodically breathing in a regular, rhythmic fashion. After several moments, she shifted position until she was stretched into a similarly odd pose and continued focusing on her breathing. The air was habitually moist but today, especially dense fog left her feeling like she was breathing in whole swallows of water – and the heat was nearly unbearable. Her glowing, shining skin glistened more than normal under these conditions but she was too focused to notice that – all she noticed was that it took extra focus to run through her routine under these uncomfortable conditions.

  But then, food was plentiful here and the environment was beautiful – though dangerously and deceptively so – so she did her best to enjoy her surroundings.

  Today was the day she expected this new world to communicate to her. She had spent moons here – many moons – learning everything she could about this new environment and all of its inhabitants, its patterns, its pulse, its energy. Now, it was time to learn its thoughts.

  As she s
at upright, she pushed her arms behind her back once again, twisting around one another more than looked natural. Her waist also twisted awkwardly, angling over her left hip. As she held that position, the magic woman felt a disturbance in the energy around her and looked up – only to see a large crocodile methodically edging towards her. She wouldn’t have named it so and she wouldn’t have named an alligator either but she recognized the difference – and she could recognize that this particular creature was especially large and boasted features that suggested genetic manipulations: spikes decorated its backside in two rows much like one would expect from certain species of extinct dinosaurs. Its tail boasted spikes and an edged tip as well. Apart from these modifications, the woman could not quickly detect anything unusual about this beast – but other modifications were there.

  She sang to it.

  A short little tune, she hummed and sang a simple melody and countermelody in harmony with herself, using both of her vocal chords and the secondary flap in her throat to make soothing, fluttery sounds.

  But it didn’t work.

  The beast continued creeping towards her as if it had no ears whatsoever.

  Hard hearted, she observed. Typical of these mutated abominations, she groaned to herself. LEAVE! she telepathically ordered the beast.

  But still, it continued moving towards her.

  She swathed her eyelashes a few extra times, unwanted water dripping into her eyes and then washing away. She glanced into the canopy of moss covered trees and then around the grounds far away from her, observing several creatures watching from above. Some monkeys were raising a warning call and a few species of birds were making similarly frantic noises – some of them flying away. Bear witness, she thought, satisfied that half of the visible jungle was watching.

  Still sitting cross-legged, she bent her torso towards the ground, raised her arms to her side until they were above her back, bent her fingers into a claw-like position, extended her nails, raised her head towards the mutant croc, exposed her canine teeth, glowered with her eyes, and hissed at the creature, using both sets of vocal chords to create an ominous, scratchy, breathy sound.

  But that was not all. That was just for show. Her mind was the key here. She sent psionic blasts of great pain towards the beast with relentless efforts. The croc offered a horrific groan – or perhaps a growl – and slashed its tail wildly towards its unseen attacker. Run! she instructed the beast with visual imagery of itself turning and moving away from her.

  And it did: it ran – or at least, it scuttled back and forth very quickly like giant crocs are prone to do.

  She patiently waited for the creature to be far enough away from her to be assured that it no longer represented any danger before shifting her body out of the threatening pose she had fashioned a few moments before. Then, she found an especially relaxing position, closed her eyes, and absorbed the energy of nature all around her. She closed her ears with flaps unique to her alien body, relaxed all of her muscles, and attuned herself to the earth. She allowed herself to feel the sludgy earth beneath her legs as she gently slid them into a more perfectly comfortable position, noting the tiny scratches from pebbles and dissolving bits of organic materials that were still hard. She allowed herself to feel droplets of rain trail from her collar bones down to her navel and then to the ground; she felt other droplets trail from her shoulders to her elbows to the ground. She allowed herself to feel the slight breeze moving among the underbrush and she allowed herself to lose awareness of the many creatures that were crawling around in the canopy above – all she would listen to was the earth itself.

  Two hours she sat motionless.

  Then three.

  Perhaps four.

  She did not count the time however. One cannot rush nature; one can only invite it.

  And when it was ready, it spoke to her. She watched as a young native, not especially far distant, gave birth to a child. Although under stress, the mother remained relaxed, breathing methodically and moaning that deep moan that helps the baby peacefully move down the birthing canal. She watched the young native breathing carefully and with great patience as the baby arrived. She observed great peace – and great joy.

  This race of people has achieved phenomenal things, she considered, images of dancers, sculptors, gymnasts, entertainers, statesmen, and scientific achievers flooding through her mind. And yet they are globally uncivilized in many ways – while these natives, considered the least civilized by their world at large, are more in tune with nature than those who claim to have risen above it.

  She now observed the mother holding the child, cradling it in her arms, admiring its new little body, caressing her fingers through the little tufts of hair, and gently nuzzling its cheek before kissing the child. She observed a triumphant smile.

  This child, she heard the earth speak in great simplicity – and then silence in shadows ruled. Nothing more came. But those words meant more to the magic woman than the sounds themselves. She understood much more. This child holds the key to the advancement of this race; this child could be thoroughly trained by the mother earth; this child alone was conceived and born in peace; this child alone was one with nature; she was fully organic; she was Elayuh.

  “THE BOY INFORMS ME that Blaze left last week, Dr. Boyd,” the young recruit reported.

  “That cannot be correct Greydon. Last week Blaze was seriously ill. He probably suffers from extreme nausea this very moment,” Dr. Boyd responded.

  “Possibly,” the young man answered, “but he left nonetheless – and he asked the boy to keep an eye on you for him.”

  “No. Really? He left the Order?” Dr. Boyd asked, entirely dumbfounded by this news. “What is he thinking? And why would he ask Jazz to keep an eye on me?” he finished, staring well beyond the confines of the office wall where they were talking, trying to remotely comprehend this new puzzle, and reeling in confusion over these few short details.

  “Well … why did you ask Jazz to keep an eye on Blaze?” Greydon queried back, entirely unsure about whatever was going on. “Did you not invite him to be a part of our team only a couple weeks ago?”

  “A week and a day to be precise,” Dr. Boyd responded with an aloof, far away look. “But to answer your question, I just had a hunch ...”

  “The young boy …”

  “His name is Jazz.”

  “Yes, sir. Jazz reports that Blaze is convinced that there must be people who survived the Third Holocaust and if there are, we need to find them before our infertility problem becomes…”

  “No – blast it!” Dr. Boyd almost yelled. “That foolish …” Pausing and reconsidering what he was saying in front of this young recruit, he began again, “but probably well intended …” Still tripping over his own words and frustrations, Dr. Boyd began to pace, rubbing his fingers along his moustache and down his beard like some men do when they’re pensive.

  Unsure whether or not to interrupt, Greydon waited in silence for quite a while before continuing his report. “The boy … ummm, Jazz … he reports that Blaze took Evelia with him.”

  “No,” Dr. Boyd responded again in disbelief. “Why would he do that?” A brief, silent moment passed before he continued. “Even considering that he is unaware of this crazy gene splicing team and even considering that he is unaware of the hostility of the natives, why would he take a docile young woman like Evelia with him to look for survivors? She studies art and music – she could be of no use to him out there – at best, she would be a constant liability.” Dr. Boyd was clearly surprised by the news and was clearly perplexed by these developments.

  “Jazz reports Blaze is crushing on Evelia.”

  “Yes, that much was apparent to me long ago,” Dr. Boyd interrupted. “Blaze is a weapons master and is fully educated in the dangers this planet can bring. I wouldn’t think that he would risk her safety so recklessly because of a crush … but then … he is quite young,” Dr. Boyd continued, still disjointed in his thinking and unsure what to make of this new deve
lopment.

  “Jazz seemed unwilling to tell me anymore about the situation Dr. Boyd but I did learn something else.”

  “Say on,” Dr. Boyd encouraged.

  “Jazz felt a little betrayed because Blaze informed him that he would ask around to see if Evelia could be Jazz’s new mentor – but then, Blaze took Evelia with him and would not tell him where they were going or how long they would be gone …”

  “Good,” Dr. Boyd interrupted again. “Tell Jazz that I am very sorry to hear about what has happened to him but that I will make sure that he gets the very best mentor we have available and that I have something very important to talk to him about soon. I need him to keep monitoring Blaze for us if he shows up again – that is, when he shows up again,” he corrected himself with a tone that clearly indicated he was hoping for a best case scenario.

  “Then the boy will be coming with us?” the young man asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Dr. Boyd responded. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to try to make sense of all of this so please don’t allow anyone to interrupt me for at least a couple hours.” As his voice trailed off, Greydon failed to hear the following question: “I don’t suppose you got that tracking device on Blaze’s staff yet? Of course not – he would have been gone by the time I gave you that order…”

  “Sir,” the young man ventured, feeling very nervous over how this conversation was unfolding.”

  “Yes.” Dr. Boyd looked up, pulled out of his nearly subconscious meanderings.

  “As you requested, I made a few more copies of the completed database, including the newest changes that you requested, and modified the older versions.” Despite himself, the young recruit inadvertently paused, internally unwilling to make this final report when Dr. Boyd was already visibly disturbed. The older man waited patiently, half distracted, half curious as to what the younger man might say – he clearly wasn’t finished with his report. Then, in a flurry, Greydon gathered his courage and confessed: “One of the completed databases – an older one without the new modifications – is missing. And whoever took the copy failed to properly check it out as you have instructed. The librarian on duty – the one in charge of the databases right now – she reports no visits from authorized personnel – or anyone else – to check out a completed database for well over a month. She believes that it was probably … stolen.”