The Friendly Ambassador: The Beginning of the End

Chapter Thirteen

  Alive Again

  The reservoir was two miles northeast of the road. The countryside was undulating and hilly, but the ground was reasonably firm. Within a short distance the road was completely hidden from view, and in the darkness the Klysanthians were instantly lost, but Breda seemed to know where she was going. Trotting along together with Breda leading the way it took them nearly an hour. Breda could have run faster, but the Klysanthians couldn’t, and by the time they had reached the edge of the reservoir, they were all exhausted again.

  The Klysanthians drank heavily before they started to wash. They were so tired, so weak, some of them could hardly move. They just lay on the edge of the bank in a line, their heads down on the surface of the water, sipping and slurping thirstily. Breda also drank from the reservoir, lying on the bank next to them. Before today she would never have dreamed that she would do such a thing. Now, after all that had happened, she drank without hesitation. And the huge gulps she drank dwarfed the quick and tiny sips of the Klysanthians.

  Having drunk and briefly rested, Anaxilea urged them all to wash.

  For the Klysanthians, washing was an unusual process. They all took off their boots and climbed onto the water, their increased weight in the Edenite gravity causing them to bob about on the deeply indented surface. Then they each knelt down, diving their hands into the water and sweeping it up over their head and body. With their hands stained in the black sticky substance, the surface tension of the water was broken and each of them sank to their waists in a sudden splash. But although their uniforms became wet, their skin and hair did not. At first the water just ran over them in great globules, and it took a lot of effort to wash off the black muck.

  The Klysanthians began to pair up, each taking turns helping another. While one dipped her head down and splashed the water over her body, her partner would rub at the black muck furiously, diluting it with the water and then sitting back while it was rinsed away with another quick dip. They did it over and over again like little birds, the water flying and splashing. Only when the black stuff was all finally washed away from one of them did they reverse roles and repeat the whole process.

  Breda watched them in the darkness as she stood in the shallow water near the bank trying to scrape all the black stuff off her own skin and clothes. She was sure she had seen them walk on the water, that for a while they were sitting on top of it rather than in it, but that couldn’t be right. They were certainly all in the water now. Maybe it was just a trick of the light? She half-heartedly threw some water at the muck on her arm. It was so thick and sticky that she finally gave up and sat down in the water with a large splash. The splash sent out ripples that were large enough to cause the Klysanthians to look up at her. One of them was Clyemne who smiled at her. Breda smiled back weakly. It was an automatic response; she didn’t really feel like smiling.

  Breda now did what they did, splashing the water all over herself, rubbing it into her skin and her clothes vigorously. The worst part was getting the stuff out of her long hair. She was still trying to wash it out when she felt other hands helping her. She looked up in surprise to see Clyemne bending over her.

  Without doubt, Clyemne was standing barefoot on the water and not in it.

  “You’re standing on the water,” Breda said simply.

  Clyemne straightened up and nodded. “I am clean,” she said as if it explained everything. Then she smiled again. “It is because a substance in our skin prevents the surface tension of the water from being broken. Many of our clothes and the uniform we wear quickly become permeated with this same substance. If you had soap, we would sink and become wet.”

  Breda stared at her for a moment. The sound of Clyemne’s voice was so angelic, so delicately and musically perfect, that it almost mesmerised her. Clyemne could have spoken about anything and Breda would have been content to just listen to her.

  Breda held out the matted strands of her hair. “If I had soap I might be able to get this stuff out.”

  “Here, I will help you.”

  Clyemne sat down on the water behind Breda, her very long and slender legs stretched out on either side of her. She flexed and curled her long fingers before placing her hands gently on Breda’s shoulders, her long fingers fanning out. Slowly, gently, she pulled Breda backward into her lap, and as she did so she slowly sank once more as the digestive fluid swirled about in the water around her. Then she poked her hands into the water, scooped some up in her palms, and began gently massaging it into Breda’s hair, mixing it with the black sticky substance, gradually diluting it and washing it away. She was gentle, rhythmic and patient. Again and again she scooped up the water and massaged and washed Breda’s hair.

  It felt strangely relaxing for Breda, having her hair washed that way. The gentle movements of Clyemne’s fingers against her scalp were soothing. It made her feel alive again.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “There is nothing to thank. We wash one another. I am clean, you are not.”

  “But I’m not one of you, I’m not Klysanthian.”

  “You are alive as we are. We all deserve some comfort and love.”

  There was silence as Clyemne continued to wash Breda’s hair. When it was nearly clean, Clyemne asked her a question.

  “You understood the need to break the com-units even though you do not speak our language. How was this?”

  Breda glanced up at her. “It was the sound of that voice. I just knew it was them.”

  Clyemne nodded. “Ah, yes. It is easy to fear them.”

  “I’ve been scared all day,” Breda admitted. “Until now. You saved my life. You and the others.”

  “And we owe you a lot also. We would all be dead without you.”

  Breda’s hair was finally clean. Now Clyemne began to help Breda wash her clothes and her body. And as Breda became clean and the water around them cleared, Clyemne was able to float again and soon she was kneeling beside Breda on the water. As the water splashed over her, Breda smiled at the sight of Clyemne bobbing up and down on the agitated surface.

  “You seem as light as a feather, and you’re so tiny, even though you’re the same height as me.”

  Clyemne nodded. “Our build and height stems from the gravity and atmosphere on our world, as your physique is based on your own world. On Klysanthia, the gravity is less and the air pressure lower. This allows us to grow tall and slender. Here on your world everything is heavier and the air pressure is higher, so you have grown sturdy and strong. On my world you would find yourself light as a feather and stronger than all. But the air would be too thin for you. On your world I feel heavy and weak, and the air is too thick.”

  “What are you doing here?” Breda suddenly asked her. “What happened to you?”

  “We came to fight the Keruh and we were shot down,” Clyemne answered. It was best to keep things simple.

  “Were you on your own?”

  “No. There are other ships in your star system. They gather together to fight the ships of the Keruh. There will be a big battle.” Clyemne looked up at the stars in the night sky. “Now we will miss it.”

  She spoke wistfully, but it was lost on Breda as she thought about what had happened.

  “It’s strange how things are, isn’t it? You get shot down and end up here and I was just running about without thinking. I was probably going around in circles. All those people dying, the fire and smoke, it was very confusing. Very frightening.”

  Clyemne felt Breda’s body grow tense. “Don’t think about it. It was a bad time. And not just for you. There were ninety-eight of us on board the Furnace of Charity. Now only those you see here are left. Don’t think about it.”

  Breda gradually relaxed again. But her curiosity about her new friends was growing.

  “If you are all that’s left, who was that voice I heard? The woman’s voice?”

  “That was Scyleia. She is captain of the Gate of Heaven, another ship of the Klysant
hian Second Fleet. Her ship must be down somewhere to the north. That was why Scyleia told us to travel that way. It could be that the Gate of Heaven is still able to fly. If it is we can escape.”

  Breda had a twinge of fear. “What about me?”

  “Do not worry. If you wish, you can come with us.” Clyemne sat back on her knees and looked at Breda in the dark. “You look much better now that you are clean. You are very pretty.” She smiled once more. “Come. We are finished and it is cold here for you in the water. You should sit on the bank and rest until you are dry. We all should rest while we can. Anaxilea will want us to move on soon.”

  Clyemne stood up on the water and waited while Breda also got up.

  Breda shook the water from her body, hair, and clothes. When she was done, she looked up at Clyemne. The Klysanthian was a foot taller with the support of the water under her bare feet.

  “Is Anaxilea your captain? Like Scyleia?” Breda asked her.

  Clyemne nodded. “Yes.” She held out her hand and Breda took it.

  They began to walk toward the others who now sat or lay on the water near the bank resting. Breda still had another question to ask.

  “Who was that other one she was worrying about? Phoebe, was it?”

  Clyemne pulled Breda to a halt, bent down, and placed her fingers on Breda’s lips. “Do not speak of her near to Anaxilea,” she whispered delicately but harshly.

  Breda was surprised by the anxious tone in Clyemne’s voice. “Why ever not?” she whispered back when the fingers were removed.

  “Because she is probably dead, and because she was Anaxilea’s daughter.”

  On the abandoned and deserted road to Hilbrok, over thirty Warriors of the Keruh Host milled about. Some moved around on the edges of the road, searching the ground, while others wandered around a short distance away, almost lost from view. Still more stood grouped together in the middle of the road itself.

  The Seventy-Ninth of the Telen’Gal stood amid a circle of Warriors in the middle of the road. He held a fragment of one of the crushed com-units in his delicate fingers. His other, much larger hand, gripped his double bladed axe.

  “They were here,” he hissed and clicked. “They were at least eight in number.”

  “There may have been more than the number of com-units would suggest,” another Warrior of the Host pointed out.

  The Seventy-Ninth agreed. “Their absolute numbers are difficult to ascertain, noble Eighty-Fifth, as is the exact route they took.”

  “They left the road here, that is certain.”

  “Yes. But in which direction?”

  The Eighty-Fifth looked around in the darkness. “They cannot travel fast in this gravity, the Host will soon overtake them.”

  “That must not happen. They must be questioned before they are consumed. Their strategy here is unknown to us. That is our priority. The Klysanthians also communicated with a grounded ship. It must be eliminated. Find a Gatherer. We must track them.”

  The Eighty-Fifth bowed. “It shall be made so.” He swept his smaller hand diagonally before him and then trotted away into the darkness.

  As soon as the Eighty-Fifth had gone, the Seventy-Ninth turned to the other Warriors who still waited patiently.

  “The words spoken from the second radio source confirm that it came from a vehicle. Only those that have been abandoned have we passed on our journey here, so it must still lie ahead of us.” The Seventy-Ninth moved his bulk before another Warrior. “Take ten Warriors and retrieve one of the abandoned vehicles we passed. Return it to functionality and pilot it north along this road. Find the vehicle that contained that radio source. Detain the occupants until I can question them.”

  The Warrior bowed and swept his smaller hand before him.

  “It shall be made so,” he hissed, and turned away. Without another word being spoken, ten Warriors followed him as he ran back along the road, their large bobbing forms disappearing quickly into the darkness.

  No sooner had these Warriors disappeared when the Eighty-Fifth returned with a Gatherer.

  The Seventy-Ninth looked up at the larger figure of the Gatherer who now waited patiently.

  “Follow the scent that leaves the road here. Lead us to the Klysanthians before your brothers overtake them.”

  The Gatherer bowed its head low over the road. It hissed loudly, moving its large jaws over the road surface, as if tasting the concrete itself. Saliva dripped from its mouth and it left a trail on the road as it moved slowly toward the verge. Suddenly it straightened up and ran from the road at a swift pace, all the Warriors chasing after it.

  On another part of the road to Hilbrok complete panic reigned. The Host spread out across the road in a wide arc, a thick dense mass of Gatherers and their entourage of Receivers. The trucks they overtook in their advance were quickly stripped and consumed, and the Edenite survivors were hunted down and snatched away. What had once been a peaceful and beautiful landscape was now a dreadful scene of horror with gross, nightmare images stalking the land. The Receivers were now large and fat, the Gatherers that served them still running back to stuff even more booty into their gaping mouths.

  Edenites ran everywhere, screaming and howling, men and women alike, pursued by the voracious Gatherers. By now all sense of goodness had been cast off by the Edenites. The wounded were abandoned, children cast aside, as all sought one goal: Escape, at any cost.

  They all failed.

  As the advancing arc of the Host moved across the land, nothing living was left behind. It was an all-encompassing scythe that cleared everything in its path. Only the metal skeletons of the stripped trucks were left behind, a sad and pitiful sight. But a more pitiful sight was what still lay ahead of the Host on the road to Jutlam City.

  All along the road was a snarling, horn blowing jam of trucks, nose to tail. The soldiers and drivers that still survived did their best, but there was no resistance in them now, no ordered chain of command. Even the jets had stopped coming. Each driver and truck with its group of survivors with their lone soldier was now an individual and isolated unit lost in the mass. They all did the same thing at the same time, they all began to turn their trucks around and head back to Jutlam City, but only succeeded in jamming up the road even more as each one got in the others way. Soon the road was filled with trucks all pointing in different directions, and those that did manage to turn around and accelerate away very quickly hit others attempting to turn around behind them. And all the time the Host moved closer and closer.

  The survivors in the trucks quickly panicked. They jumped out and ran into the darkness. Some of the soldiers tried to stop them; they tried to call them back. It was no use. Fear was now a physical presence in the air. It was also a visible one in the distance that jumped and sprang from truck to truck.

  In desperation, trucks ran across country, bouncing over the undulating land. But many soon got bogged down, their wheels sinking into the soft earth under their weight. The drivers kept trying to free them as the Gatherers approached, but the people in the back of the trucks soon lost their nerve and jumped out. And once on foot, in the dark, their fate was sealed.

  Despite the losses, some trucks did get away, either across the countryside, or back along the road. And farther back, nearer to the outskirts of Jutlam City, where the urban sprawl replaced the open countryside, trucks poured along every road and street. Here, for now at least, there was a brief respite. But it would be short-lived. Jutlam City was not a safe haven, and what was yet to come would be even worse than what emerged from the portal at Elengrad.

  Gusta had never been in this part of the city. The darkness even made the streets she knew unfamiliar, but here among the warehouses and industrial buildings, she was completely lost. All she knew was that they had been heading north. It had been a nerve-wracking experience.

  The Corporal had been cautious and incisive. He had led them down side streets, across intersections at a trot, keeping always to the edges
of the buildings. It was when they crossed the squares that Gusta had felt her heart in her mouth. Even keeping to the low walls around the gardens left her feeling horribly exposed. She was happier in the shadows of the buildings, hiding in the nooks and crannies like a small and frightened animal. Her fear was well founded.

  They had seen several Keruh Warriors on their journey. Many of them hid in the ruins of the buildings they had brought down. It was difficult to see them. But then one or two of them would dart across the street in front of them with that familiar bobbing gait, running from one building to another. In contrast, others marched purposefully and openly in columns from one street to the next. And always there were bodies. They were everywhere, soldiers, civilians, Keruh Warriors; the streets were littered with them. Many of them were horribly mutilated.

  None of it was new to Gusta; she had seen it all before when she and Didi had left the Embassy that afternoon. It had all happened over such a short space of time and yet it was already familiar. The fact that it was familiar made it all the more horrible. It made the journey even more unpleasant.

  Gusta tried to ignore the bodies, tried not to see them. The darkness helped. But the Keruh couldn’t be ignored. Whenever they appeared, the Corporal would stop them all in their tracks. Sometimes he would signal them to retreat, to turn and head in another direction. Other times they would just lie low in the shadows and wait for the Warriors to go passed, their rifles held ready. But it wasn’t just the Keruh they had to fear.

  Twice an Edenite ship had appeared in the dark skies above them. Gusta had wondered if they could signal to it. But in answer it fired down at a street nearby, causing an explosion that brought down a building and nearly buried them in falling masonry.

  Gusta knew that the ship wasn’t firing at them. It was obviously the reason why the Keruh hid in the buildings. But it meant that they had to stop and change direction whenever a ship appeared.

  They were now hiding from their friends as well as from their enemies.

  It seemed to take an age to travel across the city. Most of it was silent and empty. But none of the city blocks had survived untouched. They were always passing ruined buildings. Some were merely damaged, their windows broken, or walls pockmarked with holes. Others burned furiously, lighting up the night sky, while still more lay in silent ruin, just empty walls like blackened and crooked fingers poking up at the sky with nothing but rubble in between. Even the trees that lined the streets were blackened and dead.

  It was so sad to see the city like this. It made Gusta cry. For most of their journey, Gusta had ran with silent tears in her eyes. She cried for the people, for the city, for herself, and for the whole of their world.

  When they finally reached the northern outskirts of the city, Gusta was completely lost. She was also very tired, and her back ached from running most of the way bent double. She wasn’t the only one who was tired. Pedomoner had found it difficult to keep up with his wounded leg. Even with the other soldier, Eastomoner, to help him, he had begun to fall back. Even now they all waited for him as they crouched down in the shadow of a large warehouse. The Corporal was annoyed at the delay, but Kiki said what they were all thinking.

  “We need to rest!” he called out in a loud whisper. “We’ve come a long way!”

  “Not far enough!” The Corporal hissed back at him.

  Didi said, “I don’t know about the rest of you, but we aren’t used to this. We’re tired, and Pedomoner isn’t going to get much farther with that leg.”

  One of the other soldiers joined in. “He’s right, Corp. We could all do with a break.”

  The Corporal looked annoyed, but he gave in. “Alright, Klemunus! Check inside this warehouse! See if it’s clear!”

  The soldier who had spoken now jumped up and ran around the building to one of the windows. He peered inside and then went farther along to the door. By the time he came back, Pedomoner, Eastomoner and Altus had caught up. Pedomoner didn’t look too well. He collapsed down, his face filled with pain as he straightened his leg.

  The Corporal turned to Klemunus. “Well?”

  “It looks clear, but the door’s locked.”

  “Ganatus! Go with Klemunus and get that door open! And do it quietly!”

  “Yes, Corp!”

  After a lot of scraping and creaking, the door was prized open and they all filed in. The warehouse was stacked high with electrical goods, all in white boxes emblazoned with colourful brand names that Gusta knew so well. They all seemed so unimportant now.

  The Corporal bossed them all as usual. “This way, all of you! Away from the windows! Altus! Take the first watch! Eastomoner! Check the office! Someone help Pedomoner!”

  The telephones in the office didn’t work. None of them had expected them to. It was the same as in the hotel and department store. All the power was off and the warehouse was in darkness. It was eerie and silent, the shadows hiding everything from discarded packing cases to large lifting trucks. Even a clipboard with transit documents lay on the floor. Everything had just been left where it was.

  They eventually came to rest in an aisle in the middle of the stacked boxes. It kept them out of view from any of the windows. It felt sort of safe. They all collapsed down gratefully. Didi opened his holdall and the extra bottles of water were passed round. They all drank and gasped.

  “We’re going to need some more of these,” Didi told the Corporal.

  “What about the food?”

  “That we have enough of for now. But after another day, day and a half, we’ll need more.”

  “Okay.” The Corporal looked at his men. “Whatever you lads have stuck in your pockets, eat that first.”

  With a lot of fidgeting and shuffling in the dark, all the food that had been crammed into pockets was retrieved and eaten. Most of it was fruit, but some had stuffed cooked meats into their pockets and spent time brushing off the fluff before eating.

  Didi smiled to himself in the dark and handed Gusta and Kiki some of the meat he had taken from the store and wrapped carefully. He also gave some to Pedomoner. The wounded soldier looked exhausted.

  “Are you alright?” Didi asked him.

  “Yeah, it just hurts that’s all,” Pedomoner replied as he took a bite. “And I’m fed up of being in the dark.”

  Gusta said, “We’ve got torches and candles in one of the bags.”

  Eastomoner sat up. “Which one?”

  Gusta pointed and the holdall was hastily opened. When a torch came out and flashed into life, the Corporal quickly spoke up.

  “Put that out!”

  “But, Corp?”

  “No! The beam will carry! Use the candles! Save the torches for emergencies outside.”

  They did as he said, and soon several candles lit the circle of people as they ate.

  Kiki said, “All we need now is a fire and this would be quite cosy.”

  There were smiles all round, and one or two of the soldiers laughed. The Corporal spoiled it.

  “I think there are enough fires in the city tonight. Eastomoner! Go and relieve Altus on watch! He needs to party, too!”

  “Yes, Corp,” Eastomoner said rather forlornly. He dragged himself to his feet and disappeared into the shadows.

  Didi watched the Corporal sitting opposite to him. He seemed older than the other soldiers, and it was obvious they all respected him. And so far, he had done everything right.

  “How long have you been a Corporal?” he asked him.

  “Too long. I was a Sergeant once. But I got into a fight in a bar.” He shrugged. “Put it down to experience.”

  “Have you been in a battle before?”

  The Corporal laughed, but there was no humour in it. “Have any of us? We’re an army that has never fought any wars! It’s a joke, really! We’re all show and bravado, but when it comes to killing, we’re no more experienced than you!”

  Gusta suddenly said, “I’m glad! I’m glad you aren’t seasoned k
illers! I’m glad you never fought in a war!”

  “You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew how badly we were doing!” the Corporal told her. “They’re killing us, lady! We’re losing this war, and losing it fast!”

  “But that’s not the point!”

  The Corporal laughed again. “Not the point? Of course it’s the bloody point!”

  “No it’s not!” Gusta said forcefully, leaning forward. “We’re not like them! We’ve never enslaved anyone, never burned cities or killed innocents! Our hands are clean! Your hands are clean! That’s what’s important!”

  There was a brief silence after Gusta had spoken as they all sat and contemplated what she had said. Even the Corporal seemed to mellow.

  “Well, I hope so, lady,” he said with a sigh. “Because when this is all over a clean conscience is about the only thing we’re going to have left.”

  Altus came to join them after that. The Corporal immediately questioned him.

  “Anything to report?”

  Altus shook his head and sat down. “It’s as quiet as the grave out there.”

  Klemunus handed him a bottle of water and Kiki gave him something to eat. Altus nodded in thanks.

  Didi squeezed Gusta’s hand. He was proud of her. She looked up at him in the flickering candlelight.

  “Am I a fool for thinking like that?”

  “No, of course not!” he told her. “You’re right. At heart we are a good people. Maybe we should have chosen sides earlier, but the Ruling Council knew our weakness. War is not our best industry, even the Corporal here knows that. They tried to keep us out of the war, but we all know now that that was probably a hopeless task. The Keruh were going to come here sooner or later. We just have to suffer it and hope that we can survive.”

  “But can we survive?”

  He squeezed her hand again. “We have to hope so.”

  She moved closer and Didi put his arm around her. Kiki watched them. He was quietly jealous. It was amazing how Breda looked so much like her mother. He missed her terribly.

  “Where do we go from here?” he suddenly asked.

  The Corporal took a deep breath and sighed. “Well, we’ll never get to Hilbrok on foot, that’s for sure.”

  “Are there any air transports?”

  “None that will fly. The Keruh took out all the landing pads and the airport right at the beginning. Only a couple of passenger transports got out before they started shooting them down. Now anything in the air is going to get shot at by both sides.”

  An idea suddenly came to Gusta. “Can’t we use the rapid transit system?”

  The Corporal shook his head and Klemunus said, “All the power is off, remember?”

  The Corporal quickly added, “Forget that. A few thousand people were trapped down there when all this happened. They thought they could get out that way as well. Most of them are still down there. Or they were. The Keruh love the tunnels, it’s like home to them. They’ve been using the system to move around the city all day.”

  Gusta felt stupid. It was a sudden thought that she just blurted out. Thinking about it for just a second longer should have made her realise what a stupid idea it was. But she didn’t think. That she wasn’t the only one to make that mistake didn’t console her. Neither did the hug Didi gave her. Instead the visions of what it must have been like for the people trapped in the underground tunnels and on the stranded trains flitted through her mind. It made her feel even more depressed.

  The Corporal pulled his map from a pocket inside his armour. “We still have to find another means of transport,” he said as he unfolded it. “Most of the people who got out of the city in their own vehicles did so early on. After that the jams and the panic started. The only routes clear were the ones we kept open. But even they’ll be risky now, as you’ve seen.”

  He laid out the map on the floor between them. Everyone leaned forward as he pointed to a northern section of the city. It was close to the red route that eventually led to Hilbrok.

  “This is where we are now,” he went on. “We’ll stay here a bit longer, then head farther north.” He traced the route with his finger. “We have to get clear of the Keruh while we’re still on foot. Once we get out in the suburbs we can start looking for a vehicle, something big enough to take us all. Then we can move faster.”

  Gusta thought about Tipi and Breda. Didi must have been doing the same, because he quickly pointed to a part of the map. “Can we pass the College of Learning?”

  The Corporal thought about it. “I don’t see why not. It’s not too far off our route.” He looked up at them both. “You two got a kid there?”

  Didi nodded. “Our boy.”

  “He’s probably been evacuated by now, you know.”

  Gusta said, “Yes, but if we go passed, then we’ll know for sure.”

  “Okay.”

  It was quickly settled. Didi and Gusta hugged in celebration.

  Ganatus pointed at another section of the map near to their route. “The bus depot is here. If we can find one of those small electric city buses, that would be much better than anything we might find in a suburb.”

  Altus agreed with him. “Yeah! They’re pretty quick, and quiet too!”

  The Corporal wasn’t so enthusiastic. “And what makes you think any of them will be fully charged?”

  Ganatus said, “You forget, Corp, I used to work for the bus company before I started my public service. They always keep the buses on charge when they’re in the depot. If we can find one, it’ll be charged. And I can drive it.”

  The Corporal nodded. “Okay.” He began to fold up his map. “Klemunus! You’re on watch in ten minutes! Get some rest, all of you! We move in half an hour!”