Marc Jonas had been having a tolerable day until his boss told him about his upcoming trip to Kelphi. Marc said nothing when he received the news, and his boss immediately perceived his lack of enthusiasm.
“I don’t understand,” Larry Dozier said. “I get the distinct impression that you don’t want to go to Kelphi.” Larry Dozier leaned back in his padded managerial chair and gave Marc an adderlike stare. The wall behind Dozier was dominated by a slowly rotating holographic display of the Leonis star system, complete with individual planets, orbiting moons, and even asteroid debris. From where Marc sat—on the visitor’s side of Dozier’s desk—the massive two-dimensional hologram did indeed appear to be a three-dimensional, panoramic view of space.
The Rapid GeoWorks Company was the largest construction firm in the four habitable planets that orbited Leonis; and the vice president of sales had a correspondingly plush office. The holographic display alone had cost fourteen thousand Leonis ducats. Only the best for Larry Dozier, who had been employed at Rapid GeoWorks for more than twenty solar cycles. Dozier’s desk was crafted from the wood of a ten-thousand-year-old swamp tree. Marc would not have been able to cover the cost of the desk with his entire annual salary.
“It’s not simply that I don’t want to go,” Marc began. “But there’s the matter of my contract.”
“Your contract?” Dozier asked innocently. “Your contract states that you are the new accounts sales representative. Such a position involves travel.”
Marc squirmed in the visitor’s chair. It was much smaller than the high-tech, biofeedback-controlled device that supported Dozier’s considerable derriere. The visitor’s chair was also lower off the floor. This gave the vice president of sales a certain psychological advantage over anyone who ventured into his inner sanctum.
“I understand that my position involves interplanetary travel,” Marc began. “But my contract states that I only visit planets with dominant human cultures—or friendly alien ones. The Kelphi aren’t friendly. And the humans on Kelphi—when they aren’t being eaten that is—aren’t particularly friendly either, from what I hear.”
Dozier waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t fall for that nonsense. The Kelphi haven’t eaten humans in any significant numbers for a hundred years. You’re not afraid, are you, Marc?”
Marc felt his cheeks turn red. He was a veteran of the Leonis Defense Forces—and a combat veteran to boot. Who was this doughy corporate bureaucrat to challenge his courage? If it weren’t for Beth, he would have had no qualms about traveling to Kelphi or anywhere else. But he was a married man now. And married men couldn’t take the same risks that single men did.
Dozier seemed to recognize that he was skating on thin ice, questioning the valor of an LDF veteran. “Okay, okay, Marc. Strike that last comment. I know you’re no coward. But think about your career for a moment. If you refuse this trip on contractual grounds, the company’s directors will find a way to take it out on you. I imagine that you and Beth will want to start a family soon. And that means more household expenses. You’ve got to start climbing the company ladder, son.”
Dozier had intended the word son as a gesture of camaraderie; Marc silently noted that Dozier was not half the man his father had been. But he had to keep this observation to himself.
“Very well,” he said. “I’ll go.”
“Good man,” Dozier said. “I knew we could count on you.”
Marc sped home through the streets of the city. He set his hovercraft to autopilot so he could allow his thoughts to drift.
His experiences from the recent war were still fresh, reddish bright memories. Flames and screaming. Men and aliens being torn asunder. The smell of scorched bodies and the smoke of a destroyed civilization.
The people of the four Leonis planets had been locked in a war for their survival, and at length they had won. Although their economies still suffered and the dead were too many to fully count, a collective sense of relief followed the war. People could begin to think about the future again.
After his discharge from the Defense Forces, Marc had returned to his home planet, Leonis III. He had saved enough ducats from his military pay to make a down payment on a house just outside the city. And then he had married Beth. She had waited so patiently for him for three solar cycles, while had been away fighting.
They had been living as husband and wife for a complete solar cycle now; but he still felt a warm rush of affection (and truth be told, outright lust) whenever he thought of her.
He had led a charmed life throughout the war; and it seemed that he would be pushing his luck if he took unnecessary risks now…
There was presently no war on Kelphi; but it was still a violent place in its own way. Marc knew the basics of the planet’s history. Kelphi had been colonized by humans centuries ago, in the wake of the first great migrations from Terra. The human colonizers of Kelphi had quickly learned that they were not alone.
In the early days of the Kelphi War, entire communities of human settlers were devoured like so many ants. The dominant native life form of Kelphi was inferior to humans in some aspects, but superior in those that counted most. Marc had heard many times that the human settlers on that dark planet had never had a chance; the outcome of the conflict was a foregone conclusion.
After their defeat, the human population of Kelphi found a way to live with their new masters. But what kind of life was that—to exist like cattle?
And then he saw the house that he and Beth shared—a modest domelike structure constructed upon a knoll that overlooked the Saris River valley. He forgot all about Kelphi and the devil’s pact under which those faraway humans lived. The war was behind him. Death was behind him. And soon the trip to Kelphi would be behind him, too.
When he entered the house, she was waiting for him. He pressed his face into her hair and absorbed the scent of her. Then her arms were around him and their bodies were entangled in a familiar, almost furious embrace. She led him into their sleeping chamber, and in a little while, he felt fully alive again.
Marc sped home through the streets of the city. He set his hovercraft to autopilot so he could allow his thoughts to drift.
His experiences from the recent war were still fresh, reddish bright memories. Flames and screaming. Men and aliens being torn asunder. The smell of scorched bodies and the smoke of a destroyed civilization.
The people of the four Leonis planets had been locked in a war for their survival, and at length they had won. Although their economies still suffered and the dead were too many to fully count, a collective sense of relief followed the war. People could begin to think about the future again.
After his discharge from the Defense Forces, Marc had returned to his home planet, Leonis III. He had saved enough ducats from his military pay to make a down payment on a house just outside the city. And then he had married Beth. She had waited so patiently for him for three solar cycles, while had been away fighting.
They had been living as husband and wife for a complete solar cycle now; but he still felt a warm rush of affection (and truth be told, outright lust) whenever he thought of her.
He had led a charmed life throughout the war; and it seemed that he would be pushing his luck if he took unnecessary risks now…
There was presently no war on Kelphi; but it was still a violent place in its own way. Marc knew the basics of the planet’s history. Kelphi had been colonized by humans centuries ago, in the wake of the first great migrations from Terra. The human colonizers of Kelphi had quickly learned that they were not alone.
In the early days of the Kelphi War, entire communities of human settlers were devoured like so many ants. The dominant native life form of Kelphi was inferior to humans in some aspects, but superior in those that counted most. Marc had heard many times that the human settlers on that dark planet had never had a chance; the outcome of the conflict was a foregone conclusion.
After their defeat, the human population of Kelphi found a way to live with their new masters. But what kind of life was that—to exist like cattle?
And then he saw the house that he and Beth shared—a modest domelike structure constructed upon a knoll that overlooked the Saris River valley. He forgot all about Kelphi and the devil’s pact under which those faraway humans lived. The war was behind him. Death was behind him. And soon the trip to Kelphi would be behind him, too.
When he entered the house, she was waiting for him. He pressed his face into her hair and absorbed the scent of her. Then her arms were around him and their bodies were entangled in a familiar, almost furious embrace. She led him into their sleeping chamber, and in a little while, he felt fully alive again.
* * *
The surface of Kelphi became visible as the shuttlecraft that belonged to the Rapid GeoWorks Company cleared the planet’s lowest layer of clouds. Kelphi looked more like a moon than a planet—a mostly barren landscape of waterless rivers, asteroid craters, and ancient volcanoes.
Marc’s pilot was a fellow veteran of the Leonis Defense Forces, and the two men had exchanged war stories throughout the long journey.
“Maybe I’ll like it better when I see it by day,” Marc said.
“This is the day.”
Marc sighed inside his flight helmet. The shuttlecraft rocked back and forth as the pilot applied the rearward thrusters and the ship encountered a band of turbulence.
Volcano number 1683 appeared far below, on the starboard side of the shuttle. This volcano was the reason for Marc’s presence here. A recent series of eruptions had released a huge amount of lava, and severely destabilized the southern slope of the volcano. This threatened a Kelphi mining operation.
If the volcano collapsed, the mines near its base would be flooded with lava. This would kill the thousands of humans who toiled in the mines. Marc knew that the Kelphi weren’t concerned about the potential human deaths; but the loss of the mine would mean a huge blow to their economy.
The shuttlecraft touched down in the spaceport of the Kelphi capital. It was a vast, cavernous facility without the slightest touch of ornamentation. The lighting was so insignificant that Marc nearly tripped as he exited the ship.
A pale, hooded figure approached from the murky semidarkness. A tall man with an aquiline nose and a bushy beard.
Mark knew immediately that this was Anton Cherney, his assigned human intermediary.
“Welcome to Kelphi,” Anton said, grasping Mark’s hand with a clammy grip. “Please come with me. All is prepared for your visit.”
The accommodations were rough, to say the least—primitive even by the standards of what Marc had known in the Leonis Defense Forces. Because of its dark history and sanguinary political status quo, Kelphi attracted few human visitors. There was no tourism here.
Anton had arranged for a room in the only inn within the capital city. The walls were bare stone, and the human attendants moved silently and unsmilingly about their duties.
What human would willingly visit a planet where humans are occasionally on the menu? Marc thought. He lay back upon the prickly rush mattress of his bed. Overhead, a ceiling fan stirred the damp, moldy air.
Feeling restless, Marc withdrew a hand-held electronic device from his baggage. He checked his messages from Leonis III. There were two from Dozier, which he skimmed through briefly. There was also one from Beth: “I love you and cannot wait for your return.”
After replying first to Beth and then to Dozier, Marc pushed a series of buttons on the little device and accessed a digital information pack about the history of Kelphi:
“….After the peace of 3723 (by the Kelphi calendar), the human population and the Kelphi agreed to the establishment of a two-tiered social structure, commonly known as the Postwar System. The Postwar System effectively designated the Kelphi as overlords. Human rights under the Postwar System are severely curtailed.
Kelphi consumption of humans (commonplace before the peace treaty) now occurs much less frequently. However, the planet’s constitution technically permits the practice…..”
What a beautiful world I’ve landed on, Marc thought. And what a way to earn my living. He tried to comfort himself with thoughts of Beth; but his sleep was filled with dreams of beasts that devoured human flesh.
Anton came for him early the next morning. A hovercraft transport and pilot were waiting outside the inn.
Once they were inside the transport craft, Anton turned to Marc and said: “You’re going to meet Lord Satu today.”
“The Kelphi Minister of Geological Affairs,” Marc said. He had done his homework.
“You may think of him as that,” Anton replied. “But that is a human term, an approximation of his real capacity within the Kelphi hierarchy.”
“Okay,” Marc said. I stand corrected.
“You’ve never had an interview with a Kelphi before, so I’m going to give you some cautionary advice.”
“Please do.”
“Remember that Kelphi isn’t like other planets. Remember that humans here have a restricted status.”
“You mean a lower status.”
“As you wish. The specific terminology is unimportant. Just remember to be respectful at all times.”
Marc knew that his next question might offend Anton, but he didn’t care. This was a matter of life and death, after all.
“This Kelphi lord of yours is not going to eat me, is it?”
To Marc’s surprise, Anton showed no sign of being offended. Nor did he appear shocked. He had probably anticipated the question.
Anton burst out laughing, in fact. To Marc, the laughter seemed forced and entirely mirthless.
“No, no. Lord Satu is not going to eat you. Although Kelphi are biologically capable of consuming human and quasi-human life forms, they do not go around with an insatiable desire to eat any of us.”
“Well, that’s good to hear.”
“Moreover, this volcano problem has alarmed the Kelphi. They need your company’s cooperation to resolve it. And they want to expand their ties with the economies of the Leonis system.”
“In other words,” Marc said. “Even if Lord Satu is struck by the urge to eat me, he will be restrained by his greater need of saving his mine, and his desire to sell the people of Leonis more minerals.”
Anton gave Marc another artificial laugh. “Don’t be so cynical. I know you won’t believe this; but the Kelphi are sentient, rational beings.”
No I don’t believe it, Marc thought. But the more important question is: What are you, Anton, after a lifetime of serving those things? What are you?
Lord Satu’s lair consisted of a giant, labyrinthine cave complex carved out of a mountainside. The site lay about an hour outside the human city.
There was a space in the main, outer cave for the hovercraft to dock; and Marc followed Anton into the darkness. “You’ll need your personal lighting device,” Anton said, as he withdrew a lighting device of his own and switched it on. Anton cautioned him to watch his footing, and with good reason: The ground beneath Marc’s boots was slippery and irregular.
“We have a bit of a walk ahead of us,” the Kelphi’s human intermediary explained.
He was now leading Mark out of a large open part of the cave complex into a network of narrower tunnels. But even here there was more than enough room for the two of them to walk side-by-side. The walls of the cave rose high above them. When Marc briefly shone his light overhead, the beam swept over jagged stalactites.
It grew very cold as they journeyed deeper into the cave. The chill pierced Marc even through his flight suit. At Anton’s instruction, he had left his flight helmet in the hovercraft; and he now wondered if he would need its auxiliary oxygen function after all. The atmosphere of Kelphi was supposed to be breathable; but the air in here was thin and moldy.
“This way,” Anton said, steering Marc to the right at a place where the cave forked in two directions. Marc followed, and his nostrils were assaulted by a rancid organic smell that reminded him of decay. It was a smell not unlike one that he remembered from the war: the reek of moldering bodies.
“Come on,” Anton urged. “Why are you hesitating?”
“It’s—that smell.”
“Don’t worry about that. There is no danger to you.”
“How can I be sure? Tell me—”
“I told you. There is no danger. But there is no time to linger here talking. I fear we are already late.”
And with that Anton continued on. Having no real alternative, Marc followed.
After a few more minutes the floor of the cave sloped sharply downward. The tunnel emptied into a vast, vaulted chamber within the interior of the mountain.
Anton extinguished his personal lighting device and placed it back within his robes.
“Turn off your light,” Anton whispered urgently. “Or you’ll show disrespect.”
Marc complied. There was enough illumination in this room for him to see, though it was still quite dim. At several places about the floor, greenish white rocks were housed within open clay jars. The rocks glowed with what appeared to be a natural photoluminescence.
And then he had his first glimpse of a Kelphi. He had seen images of them before, of course; but this was the first time he had been within killing distance of one.
Lord Satu occupied a low, nestlike enclosure on the far side of the chamber. Like all Kelphi, his head drew immediate attention. The head of a Kelphi was oblong and as tall as a man. The Kelphi saw their surroundings through a set of four compound eyes. Below the eyes were what appeared to be nostrils—and below that the mouth. The Kelphi mouth was suited to the species’ carnivorous nature: serrated fangs lined its upper and lower jaws. Marc had no doubt that the jaws could easily snap a man in half.
Lord Satu’s body was tucked behind his head. Marc knew that the body would be about as long as two men, and encased within a semi-rigid shell.
A Kelphi perambulated on five pairs of long, jointed legs. It looks like a spider, Marc thought. As the two humans approached, Lord Satu’s legs skittered about the ground before lifting the creature into a standing position. Marc felt his hackles rise; the Kelphi was poised to pounce on them, if for some reason this interview went awry
The Kelphi were physically imposing; but Marc knew that they could not have defeated their human co-inhabitants with brawn alone. Humankind had defeated, subdued, and occasionally exterminated any number of species throughout the known universe. Many of these life forms were larger, stronger, and more savage than the Kelphi.
But the Kelphi did not rely on physical prowess alone; and this had given them the decisive advantage in their conflict with humans. Non-physical powers had enabled the Kelphi to maintain control over a subdued human race throughout the many years since the establishment of the Postwar System.
Anton motioned for Marc to remain where he stood. Then he took three diffident steps toward Lord Satu. He bowed before the Kelphi, and said to Marc: “The Lord Satu will speak through me.”
Marc realized that he was about to get his first demonstration of the Kelphi’s non-physical powers.
Anton stood perfectly erect and closed his eyes. Lord Satu’s jaws moved back and forth, up and down. Marc could hear the razor-sharp teeth scraping against each other. The Kelphi emitted a high-pitched clicking sound. Marc restrained the urge to place his fingertips in his ears.
Anton’s chin jerked upward. His eyelids opened and the eyes themselves rolled backward, revealing only white. He moved spasmodically about, as if attached to an electric current. But somehow he remained on his feet.
All the while, the Kelphi continued its clicking. Finally the clicks flattened out into a steady, rhythmic pulse.
Now Anton appeared to regain his composure. He steadied himself and addressed Marc.
“Hello,” Anton said in a voice that was not quite his own. “Allow me to welcome you to our humble planet.”
Marc hesitated before addressing the Kelphi.
“Thank you. And allow me to introduce myself. My name is Marc Jonas.”
“Your presence here pleases me,” the Kelphi said through Anton’s lips.
“Lord Satu, I presume?”
“You are correct.”
A thin trickle of blood began to run from one side of Anton’s nose.
Marc found it difficult to keep the purpose of his visit in mind. The Kelphi was distracting enough; and Anton’s sudden trance was even worse, somehow.
“Both myself and my company are eager to resolve your problem.”
Anton laughed hoarsely. It was the most macabre sound Marc had ever heard.
“Straight into business now, are we? No interest in the exchange of ideas…of thought patterns?”
Marc glanced over at the Kelphi, at the rows of teeth inside Lord Satu’s open mouth. “Excuse me, Lord Satu. I assure you that I meant no offense. I was only trying to demonstrate my respect for your time.”
A fresh electrical pulse seemed to surge through Anton’s body. His eyelids fluttered.
“Well, perhaps it is better that we do not tarry in the business at hand. This vessel is weak, after all. And I do not know how long it will continue to function to my satisfaction.”
It took Marc a moment to grasp that the “vessel” Lord Satu was talking about was Anton’s body.
Marc needed no further prompting. He launched into his analysis of the collapsing volcano on Kelphi. He had received the specifications well in advance of his trip, so that he had practically memorized them. He was able to succinctly explain how the Rapid GeoWorks Company would stabilize the volcano and prevent additional damage.
He found the Kelphi to be quite intelligent. During Marc’s lengthy explanations, Lord Satu stopped him several times to ask insightful questions. He was beginning to let down his guard, beginning to believe that this might turn out to be just another business trip, after all—despite the strangeness of Kelphi.
Until Lord Satu attempted to pry open his mind.
Marc was not entirely unprepared for the trespass. The Kelphi were by no means the only creatures in the universe that possessed psychic abilities. A number of species had developed these skills according to their evolutionary needs. (Some scientists even believed that prehistoric humans on Terra had once possessed rudimentary telepathic skills; but they had atrophied with the emergence of spoken language.)
Since telepathy had obvious potential as a weapon, members of the Leonis Defense Forces were trained in physic protection techniques. When he felt the Kelphi begin to probe his thoughts, Marc visualized an impenetrable iron wall around his mind, as he had been taught in the LDF academy.
This stopped the Kelphi’s incursion. Stopped it cold.
All the while, Marc and the Kelphi continued to talk about the volcano stabilization project. Lord Satu wielded his human intermediary like an inanimate tool. Neither acknowledged the Kelphi’s attempt to invade Marc’s mind, nor Marc’s successful thwarting of the attempt.
When the discussion concluded, Anton’s body underwent another series of jerky movements. He collapsed onto the stony floor of the cave.
Lifting himself to his hands and knees, Anton began gasping for air. His beard was soaked with sweat.
“Are you alright?” Marc asked. “Can I help you?”
Anton waved him away.
“I’m fine. It’s always like this. This is normal.”
Normal? Marc silently remarked. Not my idea of “normal”. No way in hell.
Anton wiped his nose with one hand, then studied the blood on his palm.
There was a sound of stirring from within the Kelphi’s nest. Lord Satu had apparently forgotten them. With the gripping appendage on one leg, he dislodged a smile pile of stones and lifted a torn and bloody carcass from beneath the cairn. Lord Satu placed the entire hunk of fur-coated flesh into his mouth. Marc could not determine what species the dismembered animal was; but he was as least relieved to conclude that it was not human.
“We should go now,” Anton said.
Anton was quiet during the walk back to the transport. He swayed as he trudged along, as if moderately intoxicated. Once he slipped and Marc had to help him up, though he waved Marc away as soon as he righted himself.
That Kelphi has fried his brain cells, Marc thought. At least for the time being.
They had been aboard the hovercraft for the better part of an hour when Anton became talkative again.
“We’ve completed our business for the day,” he said. “It’s time for you to see a bit of the human city.”
The human city was a mass of gray stone buildings and foggy streets. The few people about the streets were dressed much like Anton, in drab hooded garments. Although it was still early in the Kelphi “day,” full darkness had already fallen.
The pilot steered the hovercraft past a building that appeared to be a police station. Six uniformed men were leading a throng of bedraggled prisoners into the station. There were perhaps twenty captives, both men and women. Marc noted that some of them had been badly beaten.
“What’s that all about?” Marc asked as the hovercraft zipped by and the prisoners receded into the distance.
“Ah, them,” Anton said. “A pity. Despite the peace that we have achieved with the Kelphi, there are still those who want to provoke another war between our two races.”
“And so those were….”
“Rebels,” Anton explained. “They were involved in an assassination plot. They were gathering explosives and weapons. They were planning to kill twelve prominent Kelphi.”
Anton laughed. “They would have had no chance of success; but the attempt would have resulted in another great bloodletting.”
“For humans or for Kelphi?”
“For humans, of course. The Kelphi would have slaughtered thousands of us in retaliation.”
“The solution, then, is to side with the Kelphi against your own race?” Marc asked.
Anton replied with an edge in his voice. “Easy for you to say. Try living here, Mr. Jonas, and you might see things differently. You don’t understand the realities of life on Kelphi.”
I understand perfectly, Marc thought. These people have sold out—they’ve discarded their honor, and even their humanity. All for what Anton calls “peace.”
But Marc could not say this. He was here on official business, as a representative of the Rapid GeoWorks Company. His priority was the volcano stabilization contract—not arguing politics and philosophy.
Moreover, there was probably nothing to be accomplished anyway. The humans of Kelphi, Marc judged, were beyond redemption.
The driver dropped them off at a tavern on the outskirts of the city, and Anton told him to return in two hours.
“I know this place,” Anton said to Marc. The hovercraft sped away. “The food is good here.”
Marc found himself doubting Anton’s assurances. Eating establishments on Leonis III were typically brighter, cleaner, and more modern-looking than this place. The tavern consisted of a long cinderblock structure covered by a rusted metal roof. The tavern reminded Marc of a barn or a warehouse. A weak light glowed behind its shuttered windows, which were coated with a heavy film of dust.
They entered a room filled with the smells of cooking, sweating bodies, and alcohol. The tavern’s interior was semi-dark and the air was close. Decorations were few. There was no paint on the interior brick walls. A massive wrought iron chandelier hung overhead; gaseous flames dancing inside its rings of light-globes.
Customers milled about; many appeared to be intoxicated. There was raucous laughter and apparent good humor; but several of the hooded faces at the bar turned to eye Marc suspiciously when he entered.
Marc followed Anton across the stone-tiled floor to a rough-hewn wooden table in a corner of the main room. A waitress soon spotted them and presented herself to take their order. Marc allowed Anton to order for him: he was unfamiliar with the human foods of Kelphi.
Along with the food, they also ordered a pitcher of Kelphi grog. It was bitter and sweet and mostly water, from what Marc could tell.
While they were waiting for their food to arrive, Marc queried his host about the alien race that dominated life on this planet. He was especially curious about the Kelphi he had met today.
“Does this Lord Satu have a wife?” Marc asked. “Is there a ‘Lady Satu’”?
Anton shook his head. “You are unlikely to see any female Kelphi.”
“What’s up with that? Do the males hold some grudge against the females of their own species? Do they keep them sequestered away?”
“That isn’t the case,” Anton explained. “Kelphi mating practices are a bit violent.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” Marc quipped, unable to stop himself.
Anton ignored the barb. “Immediately after mating, the Kelphi male kills the female and eats part of her. But the larva lives within the female’s carcass. The whelp quickly matures, and it lives off its mother’s flesh during the period of gestation. It finally emerges—and that is a process which few humans would consider to be pleasant, I assure you.”
“I can imagine,” Marc said, trying not to imagine.
It turned out that the Kelphi were similar to the Terran spiders in more ways than one. Spiders had been stowaways on the original pioneer ships. They were common on most of the worlds now inhabited by humans, and every human on Leonis was familiar with them.
The spider mating ritual was also violent. Among most species, it was common for the female to kill the male after copulation. The Kelphi had their own, similar version of sexual homicide—only in reverse. The male slaughtered the female.
“You don’t much like the Kelphi, do you?” Anton asked.
“What human being would? Frankly, I don’t see how you all manage to live under them, in this state of subjugation.”
“What you call subjugation we call coexistence. We have found ways to be valuable to the Kelphi. And they seldom take us as prey anymore.”
Marc stifled a snort. This was unbelievable. But he reminded himself of his obligations to his company.
And besides, he had more questions.
“What do they eat, then?”
“Other creatures—livestock that we raise for them.”
“But a Kelphi can still kill a human—eat a human, for that matter—as freely as a human can take the life of a chicken. Am I correct?”
“You are correct,” Anton allowed. “But most of the time they choose not to. Why would any rational being destroy a valuable asset?”
Because it’s hungry, Marc wanted to say—though he held his tongue. He knew that this line of discussion would only lead to trouble.
Luckily, their conversation was interrupted when a noticeable silence fell upon the room. There was a little stage in the center of the tavern, where a minstrel was preparing to perform. The minstrel was a young woman. She had pale skin—like most all of the humans on this darkened planet. Her flaxen hair was braided on either side of her head. The dress she wore was a simple, bluish garment that might have been homemade.
The minstrel sat on a small stool that had been placed in the center of the stage. She lifted a small musical instrument to her breast: a fretted lute with perhaps a dozen strings.
As the minstrel plucked the first few chords of her song, Anton nodded in recognition. The muscles in his face relaxed. Anton was apparently a connoisseur of Kelphi folk music. Marc remembered having read that this sort of entertainment was popular among the humans of this planet.
Although the minstrel was obviously trying to give a quality performance, Marc didn’t think much of her voice, her playing, or the song. But what could you expect here on Kelphi? These people had precious little to enjoy; it would therefore not take much in the way of entertainment to enthrall them.
“You seem to know this song,” Marc whispered discreetly to Anton.
“Yes. She is singing one of the ballads of Horat. Horat was a poet and thinker who lived on Kelphi about a hundred solar cycles ago—not long after the end of the human-Kelphi conflict. He chronicled the new state of peace that was established between the two races. His ideas have quite a following.”
As the minstrel plucked her lute and sang, Marc paid particular attention to the next verse:
“Submission is the path to peace
I unclench my fist, and free my mind
Come take my hand, come close my eyes
Show me the path to paradise
Resistance is the cause of pain
Surrender brings its just reward
I drop my sword, and so attain
The end of strife, release from war”
And we humans of Leonis would rather die than live as slaves, Mark thought, memories of the recent war ever-present in his mind.
Marc wanted to ask how the great poet Horat had died: Had he been devoured by one of those beasts? But he knew that such an inquiry was bound to offend his host.
* * *
The next morning Anton knocked on the door of his room at the inn nearly an hour before their appointed rendezvous time. When Marc opened the door, the gaunt, bearded man spoke bluntly:
“All further negotiations have been cancelled. You have insulted Lord Satu.”
“What are you talking about?” Marc asked. He had been rousted from bed and was still half asleep.
“You did not yield access to your thought patterns when Lord Satu desired to examine them.”
“Examine them?” Marc shot back. “That creature was making you dance around like a marionette. You’re damned right I did not ‘yield access.’ Not on your life!”
“Have it your way,” Anton said. “But Lord Satu considered your resistance to be a grave insult. On our planet, it is customary for a human to yield access to his thoughts when a Kelphi desires it.”
“I’ve already told you what I think about how the humans here behave, bowing and scraping like pathetic insects.”
“You are to prepare to leave Kelphi immediately,” Anton said. “We will find another company to aid us with the geological stabilization project. Unless….”
“Unless what?”
“Unless you are prepared to show the Lord Satu proper respect.”
Anton had barely departed before Marc realized the corner in which Lord Satu had placed him. He would either have to open his mind to the Kelphi—and face the unimaginable consequences—or he would have to bear the responsibility of losing a large contract for the Rapid GeoWorks Company.
When Marc spoke to Larry Dozier via his portable telecommunicator an hour later, he described the situation and his dilemma.
But for the vice president of sales, there was no dilemma.
“Marc, you’ve got to go back to them—on your hands and knees if necessary! Tell them that you’ll let this Lord Satu read your mind if he wants to. Just do it!”
“Larry, I’m not going to allow that. In the Defense Forces they taught us that a human should never give an alien access to his mind. When another being takes control of your mind, it might decide to rearrange a few things while it’s in there.”
“And why would this particular being want to do that?” Larry asked. “Geez, Marc. This thing is our customer after all! Or it was—until you offended it.”
“Larry, I don’t think you understand.”
“No, Marc. I don’t think you understand. I attended a board meeting yesterday. The economy of the entire Leonis system is depressed right now. Rapid GeoWorks needs this contract, or there are going to be some personnel cuts. And do you think the directors would look favorably on a sales rep who blew a major contract?”
The implied threat was clear: It was now a choice between his job or his personal safety. It might well come down to a choice between his job or his life.
Larry Dozier could go to hell—along with Anton and Lord Satu and this entire planet.
Then he remembered that his actions were tied to another person. It would be easy enough to forsake this job if he were alone in life. That was no longer the case: he also had Beth to think about.
He knew that Beth sincerely loved him; but that did not diminish the material sacrifices that she had made in marrying him. Women of Beth’s caliber were much sought after; she could have had any number of wealthier, more established men.
Instead she had married for love—chaining herself to a Defense Forces veteran whose future success as a civilian was still an open question.
He thought about his debts: What if they lost the house on the knoll above the Saris River valley? Beth adored that house. He imagined her disappointment if they had to abandon the house for a crowded tenement in the city.
I would die for Beth, he thought; and he knew that this was true, so deep was his love for her. He would not fail her; he would not let her down.
Therefore, shouldn’t I be able to take this one risk for her, if her happiness is at stake?
And it really wasn’t such a huge risk, was it? His training in the Leonis Defense Forces had prepared him to withstand psychological attacks. He wasn’t just another civilian.
“Okay Larry,” Marc said at last. “I’ll do it.”
“Good man!” Larry said. “Damn good man! Trust me on this, Marc. I’m only looking out for your future here.”
You liar, Marc thought. You’re looking out for your own position in the company. You could care less about my future.
“I’ll make the necessary communications,” Larry went on. “I’ll contact the senior human officials on Kelphi. We can smooth his over. You’ll see.”
***
Marc was not even surprised when Anton showed up at the inn the following morning. His host was cordial, and barely mentioned the previous day’s confrontation.
“My superiors tell me that everything is going to be alright now,” Anton said. “You are prepared to act as a proper human does on Kelphi.”
Before Marc could reply, Anton said: “I’m sure that everything will be fine now. I shouldn’t tell you this, but I believe that Rapid GeoWorks will get the contract—as long as you don’t offend Lord Satu any further.”
Once inside Lord Satu’s cave, Marc again witnessed the bizarre sight of Anton yielding his consciousness to the Kelphi. Anton passed through the same fit: His chin jerked upward and his eyes rolled back in their sockets.
Then Anton entered a trance state, and addressed Marc as the Kelphi’s “vessel.”
“Ah,” Anton said with a gurgle. “You are back. This pleases me.”
“I am here to please you, Lord Satu,” Marc said.
“Kindly resume where we left off. I want to hear more about how you will fix our problem.”
Marc continued to explain the volcano stabilization process. He knew the details well. When the Kelphi asked more questions, Marc was able to answer without missing a beat.
Then he felt the inevitable tap, tap, tap. An invisible, scaly limb skittered across his head. An unseen appendage traversed his forehead and eye sockets. Without actually touching him, the Kelphi wrapped itself around his consciousness. Behind the psychic grip was a monstrous force that was deliberately restraining itself. It was a giant claw that could have crushed his skull in an instant.
Horrifying as the prospect before him was, Marc had made his decision. Larry was counting on him. Beth was counting on him. Instead of barring the Kelphi as he had done previously, Marc dropped his defenses.
Given an opening, Lord Satu did not hesitate. Marc felt an immediate, sharp stab, as if a shaft of metal had been surgically implanted in his brain. The Kelphi’s invasion was painful at first; but it was immediately followed by a numbness that was not wholly unpleasant. Marc swayed on his feet. He was woozy, intoxicated. He paused in mid-sentence, halting his explanation about the containment of lava flows.
What was it that the minstrel had said? “Submission is the path to peace.”
Marc did not feel at peace as the alien presence rushed inside his head like a cold liquid and expanded there. He heard a dim buzzing sound inside his ears. Blood pounded in his temples and his vision blurred.
He was now “acting like a proper human does on Kelphi”—to borrow Anton’s expression. And he felt violated in doing so. The Kelphi’s mental tentacles were somehow polluting him, he was sure.
“What is wrong?” Lord Satu asked through Anton. “Are you ill?”
You’re not going to beat me, Marc thought. He wondered if Lord Satu had read this sentiment as it occurred. Probably he had.
“I’m fine,” Marc answered. “Anyway, as I was saying…”
While Marc talked, he could feel the creature rifling through his mind as if his thoughts and memories were the pages of a book. He now had no secrets from the Kelphi, he was quite certain.
Then the Kelphi withdrew. One moment another being was ransacking his consciousness; and the next moment it was gone. Marc was once again alone inside his own head.
The rushing sense of release brought relief—a feeling like gasping for air after being held underwater. Interrupting his own speech again, Marc took a series of deep, rapid breaths. He was dizzy. The buzzing inside his ears continued, as did the throbbing in his temples.
And the Kelphi had only accessed his mind. How invasive it would be to submit as Anton was now submitting. Marc couldn’t imagine how a human could allow himself to be used as a mere “vessel.” But he knew that he had come close to that a few minutes ago.
There were more questions and answers about the volcano. Then the discussion concluded with Lord Satu’s assurances that matters were proceeding satisfactorily.
Marc’s second interview with Lord Satu was over. Anton stumbled and collapsed onto the ground as Lord Satu relinquished him. He let out a low groan as he stood up and steadied himself.
This time, Marc did not offer to help him up.
They made their way back out of the cave. As they climbed a slippery, sloping bend in one of the dark passageways, Marc stumbled and lost his footing.
Anton waited for him; and though the other man’s face was obscured by shadows, Marc could sense his impatience.
As he struggled to his feet, Marc had a flash of memory: of being a larva clawing his way through rancid, bloody matter. Then his emergence into the nearly lightless air of the birthing cave.
Marc shuddered. These were not his memories; they were Kelphi memories. When Lord Satu had accessed his mind, some of the creature’s own thoughts and impressions had apparently remained behind. The images of the Kelphi birthing process were a sort of psychological filth that now clung to his grey matter.
He pushed the images away. They will fade with time, he told himself.
“I’m coming,” he called out to Anton. Marc forced himself to his feet. “Let’s get out of here.”
When he returned to Leonis III and his home overlooking the Saris River valley, Beth was waiting for him. She had prepared his favorite meal: roast Leonis pheasant and wild sarkis berries.
As he ate and relished his homecoming, Marc could not take his eyes off Beth.
Every aspect of her fascinated him anew, as if he were seeing her for the first time. She favored him with her wry, upturned smile while he told her the broad details of his trip to Kelphi. Her breasts formed an enticing outline beneath the white and silver-colored gown she had selected for the evening.
It seemed that he was noticing some facets of her beauty for the very first time. The skin of her neck—above her carotid artery—looked so soft and pliable.
Marc stared at her neck and took another bite of pheasant.
The next morning Marc arrived early at the main offices of the Rapid GeoWorks company. The security droid that screened visitors and employees in the lobby chirped out a message at him:
“Please report directly to the office of Larry Dozier, vice president of sales.”
Marc sighed. He had half-expected an early summons from his boss, but he had hoped that he might be able to put it off for a few hours. He was not feeling himself.
He had experienced a bout of light-headedness on the way to work, and something even more alarming: partial memory loss. He could not recall the previous night he had spent with Beth.
He could remember embracing her upon his arrival, and their dinner together: pheasant and sarkis berries.
And how beautiful Beth had looked…..
But the rest of the night was a blank—he could recall nothing about it.
Marc was concerned but not panicked. The Kelphi might have destroyed some of his brain cells. It was certainly possible—probable, in fact. He would therefore need to make an appointment with a neuro-physician, who would be able to repair most, if not all, of the damage. In all likelihood, his injuries would not be permanent.
Marc was a little nervous as he stepped into Larry’s office. Although he believed that his trip had been a success, he could not entirely discount the possibility that something had gone wrong. Perhaps he had irrevocably offended Lord Satu after all, his subsequent gestures of conciliation be damned.
But Larry Dozier immediately put these phantom apprehensions to rest.
“Good man!” Larry practically shouted. He rose up from his chair and clapped Marc on the back.
“We received the digitally signed and notarized contract from Kelphi last night,” the vice president explained. “You’ve done it, Marc. Put her there!”
Dozier extended his hand and Marc shook it. Dozier gripped his palm tightly. This was a standard Larry Dozier maneuver: he liked to assert his dominance with an overly aggressive handshake.
Then a puzzled expression crossed Larry’s face. He abruptly released Marc’s hand and stared at his own upturned palm.
Dozier’s look of puzzlement changed to a look of outright disgust.
“What the hell is this, Marc?” he demanded. “This looks like dried blood. “
The vice president frantically wiped his right hand on the lapel of his expensive suit jacket, leaving a trail of scarlet smears.
Marc examined his own palms. A red, coppery smelling liquid was indeed drying on both hands. He immediately ruled out the possibility that the congealing fluid could be anything other than blood. A combat veteran, Marc knew its characteristics all too well.
Fleeting, fragmentary memories of the previous night were now coming back to him, mixed with Anton’s response to his question about the existence of a “Lady Satu.”
“Kelphi mating practices are a bit violent,” Anton had said.
Had he done something horrible to Beth? The sort of thing a male Kelphi would do?
Why would he even imagine such a thing? There was no one he loved more than Beth.
But why did his last memory of kissing Beth blur with the taste of the pheasant’s flesh?
Unbidden, a smattering of last night’s sounds and images returned to him. Unfamiliar and powerful emotions surged forth as well. He recalled the pheasant meat tasting raw and bloody, and Beth screaming in pain and terror as he consumed it. He had been ravenous with his own hunger and desire. He had not had the will to stop himself.
And why did thoughts of the Kelphi no longer fill him with revulsion? Didn’t he hate the Kelphi? Or had he been wrong about that, too?
Marc blinked. The light of Larry Dozier’s office seemed painfully bright, almost blinding. He had a desire to crouch down closer to the ground, on all (ten?) of his legs. Why did he have only two legs when he should have ten? That part didn’t make sense; but he would figure it out soon enough.
“Submission is the path to peace…..”
His feelings of horror were crowded out by a dawning sense of revelation: Lord Satu had created him anew: What Marc had done to Beth had been horrible in one aspect, but it had been inevitable in another, predestined from the moment he had emerged into the murky air of the birthing cave on Kelphi.
Larry Dozier was shouting at him, pressing him for an explanation. Marc barely heard him, so strong was the buzzing sound inside his ears.
As Marc stepped toward Larry, the vice president of sales had no time to react. Marc’s new instincts took over, and he intuitively grasped how Larry Dozier could be gutted and dismembered within a few short seconds. His military training also helped him, of course; but that training was acquired. This new fount of knowledge at his disposal was instinctual, a part of his biological identity.
Marc had been a born killer since he was a larva.
He thought about his human liaison on Kelphi. Anton’s knowledge of his masters was adequate; but Marc presently understood them in ways that Anton never would. If he ever encountered Anton again, he would give the bearded man an education regarding the alien race that he served so faithfully.
The buzzing rose to a crescendo in his ears and he felt a fresh wave of wooziness. He looked down at Larry’s corpse and the blood-smeared carpet. He salivated. He had not eaten in several hours and his hunger was returning.
At last he was able to recall everything he had done to Beth. In his past life it would have horrified him; but in this moment he saw the world through different eyes. Beth and Larry were both prey. Marc now understood the mind of a Kelphi. And from that perspective, it all seemed perfectly natural.
THE END