~*~*~ OOTU ~*~*~

  Ootu had seen people gain a burst of energy when fear shot through them, but even he was surprised by the speed with which Sixflame came scrabbling out of the pit. The young man's fingers clawed at the brittle, fibrous edge, sending chunks of the spongy biomass tumbling back into the swirling vapour below.

  “There's something down there!” he gasped, his dark eyes streaming with gas-induced tears. The acrid mist clung to him with its distinctive rotten-sweet smell.

  “Noxious gases,” said Ootu, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him up onto more stable ground. “Come on!”

  They stumbled away from the pit across the uneven terrain, ducking under low-hanging tendrils and pushing past decaying stumps. Finally, they collapsed behind a mound of calcified biomass, where the Torchers stood clustered around Starcarver.

  “Matteus?” Sister Pathsong asked. “Is he…”

  Sixflame, bent over and sucking in air, shook his head. “He’s gone…” He coughed. “But…ah, but there’s a—”

  “Sixflame,” Starcarver came to take the young man by the shoulders. “We praise your bravery in seeking to aid your fellow. Alas, your efforts were not enough and Kabus has indeed claimed another life.”

  Sixflame straightened. “No, you don’t understand—”

  “I know, this is difficult to take in,” Starcarver intoned. “And yet, despite the challenges, we must move onward, deeper into Kabus's embrace.”

  “Hang on,” said Ootu. “You're happy to just keep on strolling? Like you did with Aysa?” He gestured toward the pit. “These are human beings, you’re discarding them like wrappers!”

  Starcarver turned to him, his expression serene but eyes sharp. “Death is part of the Passage, Doctor. We give our flesh to the world that teaches us. It is our way.”

  “It's a terrible way!”

  “We did not ask for your company,” Sister Gemheart snapped. “Your opinions mean nothing to us.”

  “The world speaks through danger,” Brother Dawnchaser added. “Avoidance teaches us nothing.”

  Fighting the urge to explain what toxic gas inhalation would teach them about their respiratory systems, Ootu spun towards the remaining two novices, Jacon and Unna, who stood unnaturally still, their expressions blank.

  “Don't you two have anything to say about this?” he asked.

  They exchanged a quick glance before Jacon spoke. “Matteus knew the risks of the Passage.”

  “As did Aysa,” said Unna.

  Sister Pathsong placed a hand on Ootu's arm. “Your concern is admirable, Doctor. But our ways are different. We walk to learn, through joy and but also through loss. You are welcome to abandon your Passage here, as indeed all of us are. We will not hold it against you.”

  “I am not on your damn Passage.” Ootu’s facial implants did not accommodate strong emotions well, but he scowled past them. “I am a scientist tracking human stubbornness, which continues to hold the record as the deadliest force in the universe!”

  If he thought his comment would enrage the Torchers, he was wrong. It didn’t even raise an eyebrow. They just smiled, with varying degrees of smugness, gathered their cloaks around them, and followed Starcarver along a path only the Vanguard could see.

  Sixflame, however, hesitated.

  “Are you okay?” Ootu asked. “I’ve only a fairly basic medkit with me, but I should check your oxygen level least.”

  “I’m fine, it’s just…” He looked back in the direction of the pit. “What lives down there?”

  “Down the rupture point? Nothing. It’s just a crack through the layers, no organism can ‘live’ there.”

  “Well, would something go down there?”

  “You went down there.”

  “No, I mean…” Sixflame ran a hand through his hair, frowning at the grime he found there. “I saw…a silver thing down there. With a face.”

  Ootu stared at him in growing horror. The Seep already? He'd only been on Kabus a few days. What was going on? Was this fast onset Seep? A new form, going straight to hallucinations without the usual prior symptoms of incoherence and depression?

  “Are you sure?” Ootu asked. “I’ve been studying this world for seventeen years, and I’ve never seen anything with a face that wasn't one of us.”

  “I’m sure.” His brow furrowed. “It was there. It looked at me. Don’t you believe me?”

  “I do, I do.” Ootu nodded, but inside he was deeply concerned. The intensity of the young man's conviction was pointing straight towards the Seep. “Look, do you want to turn around? Come back to the Hub with me. You have free choice, you don't have to be a Torcher. You can build a life here on Kabus rather than ambling to your death.”

  The young man flashed him an angry glare. “What makes you think I'd want that? Or that they'd even welcome me here?”

  “We could always use a strong pair of hands.”

  “Yeah, I know what I am,” Sixflame said bitterly. “Useful hands. Let me guess what you’re going to say next: its a simple but honest life? Like I should be grateful for scraps.” He jabbed a finger toward the pit. “You think I'm seeing things, don't you? First they think I killed Aysa and Matteus, now you think I'm hallucinating silver creatures.”

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  “That’s not what I mean. The Hub isn’t like where you came from. It's a small outpost on a chaotic world. We all pitch in, and we all get a say. This world is dangerous, Sixflame. Two of you are dead already.”

  Sixflame stared at him levelly, then slowly raised his bell and rang it. The chime was oddly cheerful. “All worlds are dangerous,” he said. “Do you need me to carry your bag, old man?”

  Now it was Ootu’s turn for a level stare, and he gave his left eye a whirr, just for the fun of it. “You’d better hurry on after them,” he said, pointing ahead. “Wouldn’t want them to leave you behind.”

  As Ootu watched the Torchers continue on, he hesitated. He himself could turn back, and the rational arguments were piling high indeed. Two deaths. A layer rupture that wasn’t on any charts. An imminent tidal event. The fact he'd wandered well beyond Ayan's strict two-kilometer limit. His sample containers already bulged with enough samples to keep him busy for months. His datapad blinked with warnings about limited storage. Every sensible impulse said: retreat, analyze, live to explore another day.

  But sensible impulses had never been Ootu's specialty.

  The truth was, these Torchers were wandering straight into scientific gold. They would saunter past ecological marvels muttering about voices when they should be cataloging biochemical interactions. They would touch completely unknown structures without taking measurements. They would witness phenomena that might rewrite xenobiology textbooks and respond with….with poetry!

  It was almost offensive.

  No, he couldn't abandon them now. Not when they'd barely scratched Kabus' surface. Let the Torchers listen to the world. Ootu would document it, measure it, and understand it…if he managed to stay in one piece.

  And so, he adjusted his grip on his duffle bag, muttered “Old man, indeed,” and hurried after them.

  ?

  The first sign of the tidal event was a distinctive rumble. To Ootu, it sounded like an ancient filtration system struggling to pump sludge through clogged pipes thousands of meters in diameter. The sound came from below, imperceptibly at first, then rising.

  Ootu was snipping a stem of a quite extraordinary bush when his enhanced right ear picked up the first hint of the rumble. The bush began to tremble.

  He quickly stowed his snipping tool and slid the snippet into a sample container.

  “Uh, people!” he called out as he hurried ahead. “The tidal event is starting!”

  Starcarver, at his place at the front of the group, turned. He had picked up a staff somewhere during the day, and now he raised it, as if in salute to Ootu.

  “We must heed the learned man’s words,” he announced. Let us find stable ground.”

  “No, you don’t understand,” said Ootu. “There is no stable ground on Kabus.” He paused. “Well, there’s the pinnacles, but out here, the best we can do is that.”

  He pointed about 50 meters ahead, where the hanging roots of a large tree had formed a natural cage-like structure. Everyone huddled together inside it as the unsettling sounds intensified and the tremble built beneath them. The vegetation swayed.

  Ootu crouched, bracing his difficult left knee against a sturdy-looking knot in the roots. “Hold tight! These events can last anywhere from about ninety seconds to a good ten minutes, but it will seem longer.”

  The two remaining novices were near him, and he was worried that they were having a rough time. He was about to say something reassuring when he noticed that Unna looked…tense. Not because she was afraid but because she was readying herself for something. Her face was still, and her eyes cold and calculating.

  The moment she saw him looking, her expression changed. Like a mask flipping up, flooding her gaze with fear.

  That’s odd, Ootu thought, but he had to set it aside as the rumbling was building to a crescendo. The entire structure shifted slightly, creaking as the massive roots strained against the movement. Below them, the spongy ground rippled visibly, like the surface of a disturbed pond.

  Sister Gemheart let out a small cry and clutched Brother Stellaroak's arm. Starcarver remained standing, refusing to hold anything but his staff, his expression calm as he gazed out over the undulating terrain.

  And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the movement subsided. The rumbling faded to silence. The vegetation stilled.

  Nothing.

  For several moments, no one moved.

  Sixflame, who had positioned himself at the edge of the group, his back pressed firmly against a root stem, slowly straightened. He looked around at the others, then gave his bell a ring. The clear tone broke the silence, drawing little chuckles from the Torchers.

  “Not a shout but a whisper, Doctor,” said Brother Dawnchaser, rising to his feet and brushing off his cloak.

  Ootu gaped at the jungle, still and calm. “I don't understand,” he said weakly. “It should have been far worse than that. It should have lasted a minute at least…”

  Starcarver stepped out of the root structure and planted his staff firmly on the ground, his smile as serene as ever. “The world knows we walk with respect,” he intoned. “Kabus has tested us gently, finding us worthy of Passage.”

  The Torchers nodded and murmured in agreement. Their world was whole.

  Ootu’s world was not.

  “I don’t understand,” he said again as the Torchers gathered themselves and left the root cage.

  A gentle hand fell on his arm. It was Sister Pathsong.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said faintly. “No. I…”

  “Are you coming, Sister?” This was Sister Gemheart, who had paused at the edge of the roots. “We must not tarry. The Vanguard strides ahead.”

  “Yes, I shall come presently.” She smiled. “I would like to help our friend understand Kabus' gentle voice”

  When Gemheart had left, Pathsong shepherded Ootu out of the root cage.

  “I don't understand,” he was still saying it, over and over.

  “What do you not understand?” she asked. “That the world isn't as you expected it? That it doesn't follow your models?”

  “No. Yes.” Ootu shook his head in frustration.

  A beep from his device interrupted them. “It'll be Chief Ayan,” he said, glancing at the comm unit.

  Sister Pathsong studied him for a moment, a faint smile playing on her lips. “The Torcher way teaches us that sometimes we must abandon our comforts to find truth.” She gestured toward the path where the others had disappeared. “We should rejoin the group. Vanguard Starcarver dislikes stragglers.”

  “Go ahead. I'll catch up.”

  “Are you certain?”

  Ootu managed a thin smile. “You leave quite the trail. I'll find my way.”

  Sister Pathsong nodded, her gaze lingering on him a moment longer before she turned and hurried after the others, her cloak fluttering behind her.

  Once Pathsong was out of sight, Ootu answered the call. “Hello, Field Station One speaking.”

  “Ootu?” Ayan's voice crackled with interference. “What just happened? Tidal Dynamics is having a fit. They don't know what's going on.”

  “I don’t know, you tell me. You’ve got the sensor terminal.”

  “Ah…well.”

  “Is it broken?”

  “No. I’m actually on a pinnacle.”

  “Why?” Ootu asked as he started slowly after the group.

  “I went painting for my day off and my glider sprung a leak. It’s not important. Are you okay? Are the Torchers okay?”

  “I’m good, and most of the Torchers are good, but two of them are already dead.”

  “Dead! What? How?”

  “Not sure exactly. One woman, Aysa, died without a mark on her. Just dropped in the jungle. The second, Matteus, supposedly fell into a biomass rupture point.” He frowned, remembering the unexpectedly cold and thoughtful look on Unna’s face. Fear of death had been the last thing on her mind. “There’s something going on, but it’s going to take me a while to figure it out.”

  “Let me know when you've puzzled it al out. And while you’re working on that, see if you can find out why our so-called major tidal belch turned out to be a delicate sneeze.”

  Ootu ducked to avoid a fungal branch. “I will see what I can do.”

  “Be careful, though. I won't be much help. I'm stuck until Marlo can get the follow-me-hover with parts.”

  “I'll be fine. I'll check in again tonight if I can.” He paused. “And Ayan? Keep an eye on the canopy. Something tells me Kabus isn't finished talking to us yet.”

  “Talking to us? You sound like a Torcher. Don't tell me they've converted you already.”

  “Eh.” Ootu thought of Pathsong’s kind smile. “Call me interested in their precepts.”