6 Chapter 6: False Idols, Part 4

Beneath the glistening band of the Milky Way, the landscape was littered with statues, altars, shards of green glass, and about a hundred yards away, the smoking wreckage of James's pod. Travis recognized some of the species that made up the idols. There were creatures from Centauri and Betelgeuse, even a five-winged avian from AD Leonis. The rest were life forms he had never seen before. There was one he could only describe as a hybrid between a wasp, a squid, and a horse.

The ground shook with a low rumble, like an earthquake. James strained and squirmed to raise his head. "Travis?" he shouted. "What's happening?"

They came from everywhere, from holes in the rocks, from the mountains, and from the cliffs. They were insectile, their exoskeletons sporting three spindly legs and an armored abdomen. Their twisted necks ended in one milky eye that looked as if it was made of glass, with an opal fluid sloshing inside. Their irises were uniformly the color of cinnamon, flecked with streaks of scarlet. There were hundreds of thousands of them, all roughly two feet high. They chattered and whispered as they came.

Travis tore open James's pouch. He snatched the data chip, and dropped it into his own. A moment later, the sea of insects flowed around him, pushing him back from the altar. He did not resist. An eerie calm settled over him. Whatever happened next, he had no defense. They swarmed over James's struggling form, and wrapped their cursorial legs around him. The vines retracted as the insects yanked their prey to his feet.

The glowing wisps of fog descended, and enveloped the engineer's helmet. There was a flash of orange and white as James fired into the onslaught. A handful of creatures ignited, their charred bodies spinning through the air. Finally, one shimmied up James's suit, and smashed his faceplate with its foreleg. He screamed as the phosphorescence assaulted his mouth and nostrils. He writhed, his hands tearing at his crystallizing throat. The insects dug their razor-tipped claws into his environment suit, shredding it from his body. They could not scratch his flesh, as it was now a hardened, emerald resin.

The naked statue glinted in the starlight, his arms thrown upward, his legs twisted. His mouth was a grimace of agony, his sagging paunch hanging over shriveled genitalia. Through the clear green crystal of James's clenched pinky, Travis could make out his DualCoder key implant. And there, in his mouth, were the glints of fillings. The swarm stood in reverent silence now, their rattling nothing more than a light rustle.

They were waiting.

A piercing, high-pitched cry pealed across the winds. The sea of brown-eyed insects parted, forming a path to the altar. Two of them dragged a third, gibbering and screaming, to the stone table. They threw it down, where it fought until the vines held fast its thrashing limbs.

Its eye was green.

A cinnamon-eyed insect, larger than the others, mounted the wretched supplicant. It loomed above its captive, slowly rearing back on two hind legs, its foreleg quivering in the air. It looked upward to its new idol for guidance. Then it lunged, driving its claw into the sacrifice's pupil.

Its emerald eye shattered, drenching James's agonized statue and the surrounding congregation in viscous, opal fluid. A cloud of luminescent vapor rose from the shards, and became one with the formation of glowing wisps. The anointed ones waved their middle legs in the air, chattering in ecstasy as the poor, impaled creature writhed, and then fell still.

Travis ran.

The insects either did not notice, or, in their rapture, did not care. He raced to James's pod, his breath like fire in his lungs.

"Your oxygen is depleted," the suit's voice said pleasantly. "Please lie down, and meditate until help arrives. Estimated time to unconsciousness is ten minutes."

Travis pulled himself up the chain ladder. The army of insects approached. They did not run; they knew there was nowhere he could go. He pulled the handle, and twisted it.

The round door swung outwards, but there was no hiss of pressurization. Travis gritted his teeth. The insects were at the foot of the ladder now. He swung the door closed behind him, and locked it.

"Computer," he said, "what's the status of the pod?"

"Linking," the voice said in his ear. "Oxygen refinery damaged upon impact."

Travis tore through the lockers of survival gear until he found a data transmitter. It was the size of his thumb. He pulled the chip from his pouch, and snapped it inside.

The sound of claws beating against the door was like hail. "Analysis of crystal structures outside?" he asked.

There was a pause. "Transparent, yet extremely dense atomic mesh," the suit said, "unbreakable to known technology."

Travis nodded. "I want the information on this chip broadcast continuously," he said.

"The transmitter will need direct sunlight every thirty-five point two hours to recharge."

"What is the daylight cycle of this planet?"

"Twenty-six hours."

The pod rocked back and forth. Travis had no doubt the insects would soon find their way inside. "'This world will become the center of the galaxy,'" he quoted. "I'm going to open my faceplate. Can you seal my suit at the neck?"

"Safety protocols - "

"Override," he said. "Trap what air you can inside my suit below my neck until my faceplate is sealed again. Then flush the atmosphere from my helmet, and release." There was a pause. "Do it."

He felt a tightening around his neck. "Suit sealed." The voice was almost resentful.

He took a deep breath, held it, and swung his faceplate open. Keeping his throat clenched, he opened his mouth enough to slip the transmitter inside. His lungs burned. He smacked the faceplate closed. There was a hiss as the suit cleared his helmet, and the pressure drop made his eyes feel as if they were going to pop from his skull. Then the squeezing around his neck released, and he sucked sour air in through his teeth.

"Time to unconsciousness recalculated due to available oxygen and accelerated heartbeat. Now only three point four minutes remaining."

"One more thing," he slurred around the object in his mouth. "Pump my body full of local anesthetic."

"I am only authorized to do that in case of injury."

"I'll be dead in less than four minutes, I promise not to tell anyone," he said. "Please?"

There was a pause, and then a jabbing sensation. After a few seconds, he could only feel numbness.

"Anesthetic administered."

With a metallic screech, the insects tore the hatch from its hinges. Wait, Travis begged silently, not here! As if they could hear his thoughts, the creatures wrapped their spider-like legs around his arms, and yanked him outside, dragging him down the ladder to the clay.

He pushed himself to his feet. An altar had been constructed at the base of the pod, with a trembling, green-eyed sacrifice already in waiting. The insects pushed Travis forward. He did not resist. Although he could not feel it, he could hear the transmitter buzzing against his teeth. He clenched his lips together. For Catherine, he would protect it. I love you, he thought. Was there a way of transmitting that as well?

The glowing fog descended. As a claw smashed his faceplate, he puffed his chest out, and inhaled the wisps through his nose. If he was to be the universe's first god of knowledge, he decided, he would be a god that was proud. He gazed down on his poor sacrifice, and, as his final act, forced his crystalizing lips into a smile.