~*~*~ OOTU ~*~*~

  When the situation called for it, Ootu could keep a good smile (somewhere between “delighted to be here” and “not currently experiencing organ failure”). He had perfected it during interviews with the Institute of Frontier Sciences, when convincing local authorities to let him have a quick snoop around, and while assuring sceptical medical technicians that his right lung was supposed to make that noise.

  It also came in very handy while preparing to discuss matters of faith and science with a cult leader who had clearly been first in line when they handed out charisma. Ootu knew he had to be careful — he didn’t want to get roped into becoming a cloak-wearing, bell-ringing ascetic. His left knee already made enough mysterious sounds without adding ritual genuflection to its daily routine.

  No, the cult life was not for him.

  Fortunately, Ootu understood charisma and its effects all too well. He'd seen dozens of colleagues fall under the spell of silver-tongued opportunists, and he prided himself on his ability to identify and defend against such tactics. He would absolutely not fall under the tall man's spell. Not this scientist. Nope.

  "So then,” he said as the Vanguard guided him to the edge of the stepper pads. “About those Kabus-born novices. I was wondering how they…came about."

  “Ah,” Starcarver said with a sigh and a slow shake of the head. “I see you have found me out.” He raised his hands palm-up and offered a sheepish smile. “I should have known that you, of all people, would be the first to pick up on this.”

  Ootu felt a small, ridiculous flutter of pride at being singled out. He cleared his throat and tried to reassert some detachment. "So you’re saying that they're not Kabus natives?"

  “No, indeed they are not.” Starcarver leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Alas, I am guilty of a minor deception. The thing is…you know as well as I do that Kabus has no humans born to it. I believe the developers have put a ban on reproduction because of the madness. Am I right?”

  “Yes, although we prefer to call it the Seep,” said Ootu. “It is an unfortunate illness that some people develop during their stay here.”

  “Do we know what causes it?”

  “Not yet, nor do we know why some are affected while others seem immune," Ootu replied, momentarily tempted to launch into his forty-minute lecture on what he considered was the likely culprit: neurotransmitter anomalies he'd observed in affected tissue samples.

  But, he sensed, now was not the time.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “as we do not yet know how it affects children, reproduction is forbidden on Kabus.” He grinned. “We all have the necessary implants.”

  “Of course.” Starcarver nodded with the grace of one who'd never needed artificial additions. “I take it that you are immune to the Seep, good doctor. Since you’ve been here quite a while.”

  “Yes, I believe it is down to my augmentations.” Ootu’s smile began to fade. “But, I would like to point out that I'm not really a doctor. My credentials were suspended years ago.”

  “My dear fellow,” Starcarver laid his hand on Ootu’s arm. “The value of your wisdom extends far beyond the prestige of titles and papers, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yes, well, um…” At a loss, Ootu found refuge in his forced smile.

  “Good. Now.” Starcarver’s face creased in thought. “Back to my unfortunately necessary subterfuge. You must understand that our task here is exceedingly difficult. Walking an unknown world is perhaps one of the greatest struggles a human can face. And, yes, it is possible to perform a Passage without native help, but it would cause my people great suffering. I could not bear to see that. Thus, I made the difficult decision to recruit four novices from Libun."

  "Ah, Libun." Ootu nodded. It made sense. Rocky, airless and tidally-locked around Mosogon, Kabus’ sister moon had a thriving population based on its mineral resources. Ootu went there whenever he needed to source parts. It had plenty of young, eager people who were at least familiar with the star system and its purple giant.

  "But do they count by Torcher standards?" he asked.

  Starcarver gestured at the Torchers and novices sitting on the stepper pads. They had finished their meal and were now deep in quiet conversation.

  "The thing about faith, dear Ootu, is that it can overcome the divots on the path to salvation.” He offered a wry smile. “These four are the closest we can hope for, given the circumstances. Fortunately, they were able to study the ecosystems of Kabus before coming here, giving them valuable knowledge that will aid us on this Passage.” He laid another gentle hand on Ootu’s other arm. “And, if you don't mind me saying so, your work has been the most useful of all."

  "My work?" Ootu straightened.

  "Indeed. They found your monographs most informative." Starcarver's voice was rich with admiration. "In truth, you understand this world better than anyone."

  Ootu couldn’t stop a blush from rising. After years of cataloging every leaf, spore, and suspiciously sentient-looking puddle and losing a large chunk of his digestive tract, finally some recognition! Yes, of course. He saw what Starcarver meant now! Perhaps the cult leader knew what he was doing after all. Bringing in Libun-born humans had absolutely been the right idea. Better a small lie than risk the lives of—

  “Help!" The sharp cry came from Sixflame, who burst into the clearing, his face ashen and eyes wild. "Aysa!"

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Starcarver released Ootu’s arms. "What happened?"

  “She’s…I don’t know, but she’s…” The young man was panicked. “Over there!”

  Over there was past a dense patch of azure-tinged fronds. Ootu was the first to push through, ready to tackle whatever was there. A razor-petalled nightshade, perhaps, or a pit-pitcher.

  But there was nothing but the normal, innocuous jungle floor and a young woman. She lay as if sleeping, and only the dark fluid flowing from her face and pooling beneath her head suggested something was wrong.

  “Oh,” Ootu said softly as Starcarver and a Libun-born novice, the one with the close-cropped hair, pushed past him and went to kneel beside Aysa.

  The other Torchers crowded close, murmuring hushed words. The fronds above seemed to bend toward them, as if curious about this gathering of humans. The Vanguard placed his fingers against Aysa's neck, just below her jawline.

  “Is she dead?” Sixflame asked from the edge of the clearing.

  “Yes. I am afraid the light of life has left her,” said Starcarver. He shook his head. “Kabus has decided to begin speaking to us, and its voice is harsh indeed.”

  Less spiritual message, more neurotoxin, thought Ootu as he switched his left eye to zoom and examined the fluid leaking from her face. The dark substance had an unusual iridescence. Not blood. Something else.

  "Did anyone see what happened," he asked. “Any unusual plants? Sounds? Smells? Were there any—"

  “This is impossible,” interrupted the Libun man kneeling beside Aysa. “We studied everything. Nothing in this biome should cause this reaction." He looked up at Starcarver, panic in his eyes. “I swear, this is not supposed to happen.”

  “Yes, Matteus,” said Starcarver, placing a calming hand on the young man's shoulder. “I know. You did your best. You mustn't blame yourself." He glanced at the others, who stood shell-shocked beside Ootu. “Jacon and Unna, you too. This is not your fault.”

  “Was it a wild animal?” Sister Coralweft asked, her voice trembling. “Some rabid beast we don’t know about?”

  "No," said Ootu firmly. "There are no animals on Kabus, not as we understand them. The ecosystem is still at the primary producer stage. It’s plants only, essentially." He looked up at the Torchers. "It might be a toxin. Is anyone feeling lightheaded? Tingling in extremities? A metallic taste on your tongue? No?"

  Sixflame stood frozen at the edge of the clearing, his eyes fixed on Aysa's motionless form. "We were just talking. She was fine," he said. "She was laughing."

  Sister Gemheart's eyes narrowed as she turned toward him. "Yes, I saw you with her before she disappeared. You two seemed quite friendly."

  Sixflame's fists clenched. "What are you suggesting?"

  "You were the only one with her at the time," said Brother Dawnchaser. "And you carry an axe beneath your cloak."

  "What? No! I found her like this!" Sixflame's voice rose. "Why would I call for help if I had done something?"

  Sister Pathsong placed a hand on Gemheart's arm. "There's no blood," she said quietly. "No wounds."

  "No," Ootu agreed. "This isn't violence. At least, not human violence."

  "Of course the outsider would defend the outsider," Brother Dawnchaser muttered.

  "No one is saying that Sixflame did anything," said Starcarver, stepping between them. "Death comes to us all, sometimes without warning or reason."

  Yes, Ootu thought, although now life was coming for Aysa. Small tendrils were already emerging from the ground, weaving their way towards Aysa's feet. Soon they would start to excrete digestive juices.

  "We should return to the Hub," he said. "Whatever took her could affect any of us next. I've seen too many expeditions lose people because they ignored the first warning." He looked at the three remaining Libun novices. "No spiritual experience is worth your lives."

  "No," Starcarver said, his voice quiet but firm. "The Passage continues."

  "But one of your people is dead," Ootu protested. "And we don't know why or how."

  "It is precisely because one of us has died that we must continue," Sister Coralweft said. "To turn back now would dishonor her sacrifice."

  "Sacrifice?" Sixflame's voice cracked. "She didn't sacrifice anything. She just died. For nothing."

  Brother Dawnchaser glared at him. "Mind your tongue. Every death on a Passage has meaning, which you would know if you were a Torcher."

  "She wanted to know her world better," Starcarver said, his voice gentle but final as he removed Aysa’s cloak and carefully laid it over her. "And now she has become part of it. There is no greater honour for a Torcher."

  Ootu looked from face to face, searching for a hint of common sense. The three remaining Libun novices appeared alarmed, and Sixflame seemed lost in his own horror. But the Torchers looked more resolute than ever.

  One dead novice and suddenly they're all ready to donate themselves to the ecosystem.

  "Our flesh to our world," Starcarver intoned. "Sister Aysa, you joined us to hear Kabus speak, and it chose to capture your soul. May your journey beyond be as illuminating as your Passage was brief."

  The other Torchers echoed each line softly.

  "We move on," the Vanguard announced finally. "The day grows short, and we have much ground to cover."

  The Torchers filed out of the clearing, followed by the subdued novices. Ootu lingered a moment longer, watching as the tendrils continued their subtle movements around Aysa's shrouded form.

  Soon, he suspected, there would be no trace of her.

  ?

  Non-eclipse days on Kabus were long. By the time they made camp, the last fingers of light reached through the canopy and another long-glow night approached. The Torchers sat in a circle, talking softly. Ootu pulled out his net hammock and slung it between two downy oaks.

  “Of course, these aren't really oaks,” he said to Sixflame, who sat on the ground nearby, his face blank and the bell in his lap. “Naming things can get pretty tricky out here. You can imagine the fanciest names you like, and everyone just wants variation of what they already know.” He paused. “Do you have a hammock?”

  Sixflame shook his head slowly. “It’s the ground for us,” he said. His gaze was fixed on the lilac of rising Mosogon, just visible above the canopy, but he didn't seem to be seeing it.

  “Ah.” Ootu nodded. “It should be fine. There aren’t many reactive things in these parts. If you do find yourself needing one…” he patted his duffle bag. “I’ve got a couple spare. They’re ultralight.”

  “Thanks.”

  Ootu settled into his hammock, feeling the day's hike in his artificial knee. "Say, about your home world…"

  Sixflame tensed visibly. "What about it?"

  "Was it difficult leaving it behind? Most worlds that far out tend to have strong gravitational and/or social ties."

  Sixflame's expression shifted, something unreadable passing across his features before he looked away. "There was nothing for me there."

  "Nothing is ever ," said Ootu. "Usually it's something wearing a convincing nothing costume…but that's not my business, I suppose."

  “No, it’s not.” Sixflame gave his bell the smallest nudge, producing a muffled sound.

  Ootu glanced at the Torchers, noting how Sister Gemheart kept looking their way, her expression as welcoming as a pit-pitcher. Then he adjusted his position, hammock creaking in protest, and pulled out his comm-unit.

  “I’m sending a message to Hub Chief Ayan. Do you want me to pass on anything? She’s quite handy with things like food drops and discreet extractions.”

  “I’m good.”

  As Ootu typed, a low, melodic tone drifted through the camp as one of the Torchers began to sing. The others joined in, their voices blending in a pleasing harmony.

  "I suppose they sing to honor the dead," Ootu explained. "And to ward off the fears of the living. What say you we let it lull us to sleep? Tomorrow will be challenging."