REBIRTH
When Venatora awoke she felt oddly elated. She stretched and there was no stiffness in her limbs, or discomfort from lying on the hard ground.
She thought of Marta and the others, but for some reason she didn’t feel worried about them, even though when she last saw them the earth split apart and Demeter was smashing down on them full force.
Something tickled her arm and she looked down to see a honey bee strolling across her arm. What a cute little thing, she thought. Venatora looked closer look and saw little balls of pollen on its hind legs.
She brought it closer still and the little creature’s antenna twitched and she gazed at Venatora through two large eyes. They were a deep brown set between the antenna and its yellow mouth.
Venatora felt a strange kinship to the creature. Her heart quickened and she reached out and gently stroked the bee’s back. It arched under her finger like a pet, staying there for long seconds.
She opened her hand and the bee crawled onto her palm and started doing a little dance. Venatora was fascinated—hypnotized by the little creature’s antics.
The whispering sounds came back again. Like before, the sound came from nowhere in particular. Although she still couldn’t make out what was being said, the tone was not aggressive like it was before. In fact, it was rather gentle and soothing.
She felt a tingling sensation and then—unaccountably her pheromone levels rose. As usual it began with a warmth that rose from her hips, over her abdomen and breasts, to her neck and then she felt tingly and warm all over.
As all this happened, the bee’s dance became more intricate. And it moved faster and faster. It was trying to talk to her—of this she was sure. Was it trying to interpret the whispering for her?
“What do you want, Little Sister?” Venatora asked.
As if in answer, the bee flew off her palm, pausing in mid air.
Waiting.
Venatora had the feeling the bee wanted her get up. She rose to her feet, the bee rising with her. It circled her head—once, twice, three times—then it took off in a straight line.
Venatora felt compelled to follow and trotted after her new sister. They crossed a wide field filled with blossoming yellow flowers. Then across a creek and as Venatora splashed though the chilly water she saw a little crab-like animal scurrying about and then a pretty little orange and black snake moving smoothly through the water.
On the far bank a cloud of tiny birds burst from the brush and a second later a catlike creature followed. Neither the birds or the feline paid the slightest attention to Venatora. They just went about their business, the feline trying to catch the birds, while the birds dived at its head and scolded it. Venatora guessed there must be nests nearby.
Momentarily she became lost in thought about all the worlds—big and small—that existed around her. Where the creatures cared not one whit about the struggles of supposedly superior sentients.
She was so wrapped in thought that she lost sight of the bee. Her heart quickened. She looked all around, murmuring “Where did you go, Little Sister?” And then the bee was back, circling her, then taking off in the same direction as before.
Eventually, they came to a fragrant apple orchard. The blossoms were white and tinged with a blush of pink. The bee didn’t stop to sup on the blossoms, but continued onward until they came upon an enormous oak standing alone in a mossy glen.
The bee vanished in the branches. Venatora felt a little anxious, but a cool breeze carrying the scent of the apple orchard picked up, fanning her face. Calming her.
She heard buzzing and her heart thumped. Was her sister returning?
Buzzing loudly, the bee flew out of the tree. It flew toward her and Venatora reached out a hand, palm open. The bee lighted there, did a little dance, buzzing all the while. Then suddenly another bee appeared and landed next to the first.
Then another.
And another.
Each adding its “voice” to the buzzing chorus.
Soon her entire hand was covered with bees and they kept coming until hundreds were attached to her hand, which became a large ball of moving insects. Still, the bees kept coming until her entire body was covered with bees.
Not only did not a single one sting her, but she felt delicious all over. A warm feeling of acceptance swept over her. No. Not just acceptance. But a joyous welcoming to the tribe.
It was if they had been waiting for her arrival for a long time.
The whispering turned to wordless singing and Venatora suddenly felt like she was blending into the world around her. The woods. The fields. The mountains. The rivers and the streams and all the creatures that crawled, walked, swam, or flew.
All this as Demeter enfolded Venatora into her embrace.
A voice broke the reverie.
“Venatora?”
It was Sten.
Standing across the glen staring at her, pistol in his hand. She noted that it was pointed down, away from her.
And just like that… like the snap! of a finger… the bees were gone.
At first, Venatora was frightened. Had they fled her? Was her new found acceptance gone? But then a calmness came over her.
Demeter was still here.
Inside and out and all around her.
She smiled at Sten. “I hope you’re not here to kill me,” she said.
The words startled him. He looked down at the gun, then back at her. His face became sad. He raised the gun until it was pointing directly at her.
“Yes, I suppose I am,” Sten said, finger tightening on the trigger.
* * * *
Sten fell, and fell, Mitzi calling out, “Sten! Sten!” There was a sharp pain as he hit something hard, and then another and then everything went black.
Cold water shocked him to consciousness and he found himself thrashing about in a strong current, going under, coming up, choking for air, then going under again.
He caught something leafy, which turned into something more solid and he clung to it. Head just above the surface. The current of an underground river rushing him along.
But then the branch caught on a jagged rock and he was pulled under, the swift current driving him deep. But if he let go all would be lost.
Sten fumbled. Turned his hand. His little knife shot out of its fleshy sheathe. With one quick motion he cut the branch free. Then he was surfacing again, gasping for air, but clinging firmly to the severed branch—his knife safely back in its home.
He was swept endlessly along, a captive of the current. Then he saw light. It was just ahead. There was a roaring sound and the current moved faster still.
And then the river spit him out into the light and he was tumbling down a waterfall. He lost the branch and went under for long seconds. Clawing to get up, up, up into the air and light.
Sten fought his way to the surface. Spotted a grassy shore and struck out for it. He caught an overhanging branch, then slowly, painfully, dragged himself out of the water.
He collapsed on the bank. Vomited water. Then passed out.
Sten had no idea how long he was out. He had the feeling that night had come and gone and now it was a bright Demeter morning. The skies were clear, birds were singing and little animals scurried in the bushes, going about their daily tasks.
He found himself in a meadow full of yellow flowers, whose petals stretched wide to drink the nourishing light. The river that had nearly killed him burbled peacefully by, so unlike the raging torrent that had carried him away.
As he watched it flow past a fish leaped, trying to catch its breakfast and he was suddenly ravenously hungry. His stomach loudly complained that it had been many hours since he’d last filled it, and that was just a few mouthfuls of tasteless rations.
Sten sighed. It was a hunger that would have to go unsatisfied because he’d lost his knapsack and all of his gear, including his battlerifle. All he had were the clothes on his back, his pistol and the knife in his arm.
He wondered how Alex and the others had fared and then panic rose when it suddenly came to him that his comm was gone. He was cut off from everyone. Sten was torn. Should he wait here for Alex to find him? Or should he continue the trek to the Command Center?
As he contemplated, a little bee made itself known. Rising up from a pretty yellow flower, it hovered mere centimeters from his nose. He could have sworn that it was looking at him through those bulbous brown compound eyes.
Then it shot away. A moment later several other bees buzzed past. Then several more. He noticed they were all heading for a group of trees and it came to him that there must be a honey tree nearby.
During his Mantis training, when they were learning to live off the land, his instructor had stressed the necessity for calories. And there were few things in nature that offered more calories and nutrition than a honeycomb.
Honey was also a superior disinfectant and did wonders when made into a poultice and placed on a wound. A hive offered one-stop shopping—food, plus a pharmacy.
His stomach grumbled and when still another group of bees buzzed by, he got to his feet and followed them.
His heart sank when he saw they were flying into a blossoming apple orchard. To his surprise the bees flew on without stopping, which convinced him more than ever that they were heading home to their hive. So he continued on, grabbing an apple, shining it on his tunic, and biting into it. Delicious. But it would be even tastier and more filling with a little honey dribbled on it.
As he continued onward the sound of buzzing grew louder. The hive must be nearby. Ahead, bushes screened a glen, where an oak tree spread its proud branches.
He pushed through the bushes, but gently. The last thing he wanted to do was rouse Demeter again.
A flicker.
Why hadn’t Demeter punished him for taking the apple?
For some reason he no longer feared retaliation. He felt at peace inside.
Sten shrugged, and took another bite.
Then he was brought up short. Beyond the foliage he could see a strange figure standing beneath the oak. It was humanoid in form, but its image seemed out of focus. And its limbs appeared to be enclosed in a constantly moving shell.
He drew his gun and moved forward. The figure turned toward him and his heart gave a bump. The figure was that of a fabulously beautiful woman. The woman gave a little shake of her shoulders, and suddenly thousands of bees were flying off her and the image became clear as if a curtain had been parted. It was-
“Venatora?” he said.
And it was indeed Venatora. She looked at him, amused. She indicated the gun.
Smiling, she said, “I hope you’re not here to kill me.”
His pulse quickened at those words. He wanted nothing more than to go to her and fold her in an embrace that would never end.
But then he looked down at the gun and duty, horrible duty that could not be denied, crawled up and seized his will in its thorny grasp.
There was no doubt that Venatora was a clear and present danger. She was the leader of the Himmenops, the most successful pirates in the empire. Never mind Skink or all the other clumsy outlaws that preyed on Imperial commerce large and small. The Himmenops were also a group that was fast expanding in numbers and sophistication.
With Venatora as their queen, there was no stopping them.
There was only one tragic answer to Venatora’s question.
Raising the pistol, he said, “Yes, I suppose I am.”
Venatora lifted a hand. “If you hear me out,” she said, “you will know that killing is no longer necessary.”
His finger tightened on the trigger.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “There is no other way.”
“Don’t you understand? Sten,” she said. “It’s over. Demeter has won and it’s over. Skink is dead. Anthofelia’s dead. Even Gregor is dead.”
Sten sighed. “Why should I believe you?” he asked. “How do I know you aren’t lying?”
She just looked at him. “You know I’m not,” she replied.
The gun drooped a moment, then he raised it and tightened his grip.
“My people are alive,” he said. “They’ll complete the mission, with or without me.”
“Yes, they are alive,” Venatora said. “We decided, Demeter and I, that it would be best so they could carry the message back to the Emperor that we are no longer a threat.”
Sten gaped. “We?” he said “Meaning, Demeter and you? Have you gone insane? That’s even more of reason to finish the job.”
“Can’t you see, Sten?” she said. “Can’t you feel it? Demeter is not just close, she’s standing right across from you.”
Venatora took a step toward him.
“Don’t,” he said.
Her eyes bored into him and the scent of the apple blossoms seemed to enfold him. He was drawn to her, like a powerful magnet. And he could feel that she was drawn to him as well.
“Don’t,” he said again. It was almost a plea.
She took another step. So close he could feel warmth radiating from her body.
And now every bone, every muscle was atremble. His mind awhirl with confused images of trees and animals and birds and fish, mixed with the horrors of the deaths and fighting he’d witnessed—been a part of—the past few cycles.
“This is nonsense,” he said.
“Your friends are waiting for you, Sten,” she said. “Back at the Transport Center. But they don’t have long. Nor do you.”
Sten almost wept with frustration. Finger on the trigger frozen in place. He didn’t have the will to fire.
Then she leaned forward and kissed him. It was a quick kiss, a gentle kiss, but it jolted him down to his very core. His heart and body ached for her.
She stepped back, releasing him.
He started to shoot. Pressed the trigger. In a split second a stream of AM2 bullets would cut her down. And Venatora, his beautiful Venatora, would be no more.
Sten shook his head. “I can’t,” he said. He closed his eyes. “I won’t,” he said.
He sensed motion and when he opened his eyes Venatora was gone.
Sten looked about. The glen was empty. Silent. Even the buzzing had stopped.
Then a little animal darted through the glen, disappearing into the bushes beyond. And he saw a flash of light on metal. Going forward, he saw it was the roadway they had been following.
Time to get going. As if in a dream, he holstered his weapon and moved through the bushes, pushing branches aside. A moment later he was standing on the roadway under Demeter’s hot bright arclights.
Should he go north to the Command Center, or south, back to the Transport Complex. He flipped a mental coin, then turned to go north.
Sten had only taken a few steps when he heard the purr of an engine. He turned to find one of the gravcars he’d seen back at Transport Center.
Hmm. It looked like at least some things were working again.
The car stopped and a door swung open. He got in. Reached for the controls, but the car started moving without him. It wheeled about, then headed south, back to Transport.
He put a hand on the stick that guided it, but it was unmovable. The other controls didn’t seem to work either.
Sten thought he’d wait until the car slowed for a bend, then he’d jump out. But when he came to a long curve a tremendous weariness settled over him and suddenly he just didn’t care one way or the other.
He settled back in his seat and closed his eyes.
Clot it, he thought. Clot it all.
A hour or so later he was back where it had all begun and the gravcar was swooping past the buckled doors into the center and a moment later he was greeted with a cacophony of blaring sound and shockingly bright lights.
Alarms were howling, red and green and yellow lights blinking crazily on the comcenter. Around him, ’bots were scurrying everywhere, toting things to distant doorways that were constantly opening and closing.
Then he saw his friends near the exit and the gravcar came to a stop before them.
Alex was shouting, “There’s uir wee bairn. Uir bonnie Sten. Ah tauld ye he’d show up.”
Kilgour dragged him from the gravcar and Mk’wolf and Pegatha and Mitzi were all embracing him.
He tried to push them away. “What’s going on?” he said. “What’s happening?”
But no one paid him the slightest attention, instead they were stuffing him into a spacesuit and dragging him to the exit.
“We have to go,” someone shouted in his ear. “She’s gonna blow at any minute.”
Then he was hustled out the exit and was practically carried to their little ship. There was a blur of activity he was too exhausted to make any sense of. And then he was strapped in and they lifted off and in no time he was back at the Gessel.
Ida and Doc were there, and Doc was saying, “For a minute, I thought we’d lost you,” and Ida was saying, “Clot that! He’s too pretty to die. Now let’s get out of here before the drakh hits the turbos.”
Sten craned to see Demeter—that beautiful blue diamond—on the screen.
“Would somebody please tell me what’s going on,” he demanded.
They all turned and looked at him like he was crazy.
“Didne ye hear, lad?” Alex said. “Dine ye hear Demeter spikn?”
Sten opened his mouth. He was about to tell them about his encounter with Venatora and all that had occurred between them. Then he decided they’d think he’d gone round the bend and send him off the Rykor to pick through his brain. He shuddered, remembering their last session.
Instead, he shook his head and said, “I was pretty much out of it until a couple of hours ago.”
Alex patted his back. “That’s alrecht, laddie. You’ve hud a hard time ay it.”
Sten said, “I still don’t get it. Who was speaking? Before, all I heard were nonsensical whispers.”
Mk’wolf said, “This time it was one big voice, clear as could be.”
“It was a woman’s voice,” Mitzi said. “Very loud and it seemed to come from everywhere.”
“Especially in the woods,” Pegatha said. “It was like the leaves of the trees had tongues. It was pretty spooky.”
Sten said, “Did any of you recognize the voice?”
“Aye,” Alex said. “Ah kent it.” He put a hand on Sten’s shoulder. “It sounded a bit like yer wee lass,” he said. “Your colleen—Venatora.”
Sten’s heart quickened. “Wha-wha— What did she say?”
“She said she was going to bring everything to an end,” Mk’wolf said. “That she was a failed experiment and she couldn’t go on living knowing that.”
Sten felt ill. He found it difficult to breathe. He guessed what was going to come next and totally forgot his Mantis training.
Ida reached over and felt his forehead.
“Get him a drink,” she said.
A glass was pushed into his hands and he lifted it to his lips and took a long swallow. It burned all the way down. He thought it was going to come right back up, but Ida slapped a mouthpiece on him and fed him pure oxygen. After a minute or so his heart stopped racing and he could breathe again.
“Suicide?” he guessed.
“Planetcide would be more accurate,” Doc said. “When Demeter goes she’ll take every living thing with her.”
Sten looked at the monitor. Demeter shone against the backdrop of space. A marvelous jewel set against millions of sparkling stars.
“When?” Sten asked.
The moment he spoke Demeter’s lights started blinking on and off. Darkness then light. Darkness then light. Faster and faster, until it climaxed in a blinding flash of blue and green.
And Demeter was gone.
Where she had once been was now nothing but cold, dark, empty space. Very much like the cold, dark and empty space in Sten’s heart.
The place that Venatora had once occupied.
Sten sighed and said, “Set a course for home, Ida.”
“We don’t have a home, remember?” she said.
“Ah vote fur th’ nearest pub,” Alex said. “Where th’ drink ur strong an’ th’ wee lassies ur slow afoot.”
“Add a boy toy or three to that,” Ida said and I’ll hit the go button.”
Wisely, Alex did not disagree.
But just before they made the jump Sten noticed that the tugs that had accompanied Demeter, were also gone.
Strange.
Originally, they were parked about fifty or sixty kilometers away from their charge, waiting for orders to clamp their tractor beams on again and carry her away. Hmm. What a curious absence.
Sten almost laughed aloud as he realized that in the end, Venatora had thrown the dice and they’d come up lucky sevens.
He buried the laugh, but inside the hurt was not so painful as before.
And he wondered if in all the wandering years to come she would ever think of him.