Nightbird

By Paul J. Sweeney

The Amar discovered Earth in 2644 BC, arrogantly taking specimens, human and animal, back to their home world. They also took their doommeasleswhich claimed 89 percent of their population. Cities died; continents died.

A single planetary culture arises as the Amar recreate their society. The humans, the sole occupants of a dead continent, survive, reproduce, and create their own society.

When discovered, the humans are too numerous to repatriate to Earth. The Amar adopt them into their society.

When the Amar can again space-travel, the humans are denied repatriation as, now technologically advanced, they would disrupt the independent development of Earth. Also the Amar are ashamed of their earlier abductions. Yet the humans desire a home of their own.

In 1882 the Amar return to Earth, only to establish a clandestine observation facility on the moon. Radio in the early 1900s and later television allow the Amar to remotely study Earth.

Observing the damage being done to Earths ecology, scientist Kargon, shocked by the rate of decay, devised a plan of his own to save Earth. Co-opting Amars humans, he promises to unleash viral destruction on Earth. With Earths population decimated and the planets ecology saved, the humans of Amar could return.

Kargon and a coconspirator escape, only to crash in outback Australia. Here they are still able to concoct a scenario that will bring about their goal.

An Amar recovery team sent to apprehend the renegades meets problems of their own. Aided by Chris and Mark, they arrange their rescue. The encounter terrifies Chris, though Mark burns to visit Amar, using his aid as a bargaining chip to be invited.

Mark departs for Amar. Once there, he must negotiate the political machinations and cultural differences while unraveling Kargons plan. Eventually, Mark returns to Earth to discover that Kargon has betrayed his supporters and his virus has been unleashed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Aug 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524516307

Paul J. Sweeney

Access to his parent’s bookstore as he grew up allowed Paul the opportunity to discover his joy of reading, and he gravitated to the sci-fi and fiction genres. He completed his BSc at Sydney University and his DipEd in science at Sydney Teachers College. Nightbird is his first major fictional work.

Book preview

NIGHTBIRD

PAUL J. SWEENEY

Copyright © 2016 by Paul J. Sweeney.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2016913161

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-5245-1629-1

      Softcover      978-1-5245-1628-4

      eBook         978-1-5245-1630-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 08/16/2016

Xlibris

1-800-455-039

www.Xlibris.com.au

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Contents

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About the Author

1

Choora slowly raised her head. The atmosphere was thick with steam and smoke, stinging her watery eyes and making breathing difficult. Shaking her head she tried to clear her inner fog and focus her concentration. Through the haze a blinking red warning light transfixed her attention and startled her to recollection.

The rear stabiliser pod had failed soon after entering the atmosphere, sending the Corotus out of control. Their intended trajectory was lost as the craft tumbled. Their craft would likely survive an impact with water should she be able to gain more control, though the current heading offered nothing but land.

‘Got to halt the damned spinning and slow for impact’, she thought in desperation.

The controls had fought her every effort and the yawing made her queasy.

It was ironic that this type of mechanical failure was the one that would occur to any other Corotus that followed them into the atmosphere. That was her insurance policy against imminent pursuit.

She had no doubt that her pre-escape sabotage of the pods in all the other Corotus would be detected during any pre-entry diagnostic. No competent crew would risk entering planetary atmosphere without such a crosscheck of systems, and those who pursued her were more than competent.

Once they discovered the fault they would break off from the chase and would lose her as the atmosphere covered her traces. They could not initiate repairs in flight nor counter her handiwork until they returned to Mara Base.

That thought had given her no comfort.

‘12000’ flashed the altimeter.

Their deceleration was still insufficient to prevent a lethal impact. From the corner of her eye she saw Kargon unbuckling his restraints and leaping for the rear control station where normally a third crew member would sit, to attempt to kick the auxiliary on line.

‘10000’

A severe jolt rattled her to the teeth as the backup vented its thrust, its renewed support again causing the Corotus to pitch and shudder.

Unmindful of the noise as objects broke free and crashed around the cabin Choora began fighting anew to re-stabilise using the partial power provided by the auxiliary.

‘4000’

Spots danced before her eyes as the sudden deceleration caused blood to rush to her feet.

‘Got to divert power from life support’ she thought, ‘otherwise there’ll be no life left to support.’

The whine of the overtaxed thruster hurt her ears.

‘2000’

Too fast! Too fast! ‘Noooo!’ shrieked Choora, more in defiance than in fear.

She needed to wrest control. All the planning and scheming, all the risks to get to this point of their plan would be wasted, and there was so much more to do in order to succeed – ‘It can not end here - it must not end here!’ she cried aloud.

Totally focussed, she clenched her will towards the task of saving the craft, straining against the controls, slamming buttons to initiate power shunts.

‘1400’

Oblivious to the screaming of the thrusters, the salt sting of perspiration that flooded her eyes, and the acrid wisps that assaulted her nostrils announcing that something, somewhere, was overheating, Choora fought on. She wasted no thoughts on what Kargon would be doing. She knew he would be attempting to cloak the craft from their pursuer’s sensors, as he had been trained to do.

‘1300’

She was winning. The spinning was brought under control, and the Corotus no longer pitched and bucked like a hurricane-driven sea. That was the good news. The bad news was that the surface below was all rock. The monitor she had glimpsed displayed it all too clearly. Long canyons surrounded by rugged cliffs.

Although decelerating still, if the Corotus struck those cliffs it would be shattered.

‘1100’

The valley between those ridges, she would try to reach there approaching at an acute angle. At least that would allow a few more seconds of deceleration before impact.

‘1000’

Straining to the point of collapse she had angled the craft away from the approaching cliff wall and along the run of the canyon

‘400’

Despite its noisy protestations and bone rattling juddering the Corotus still held its deceleration.

‘This is going to be rough, but we just might make it’, thought Choora, clinging to the positive. Though in her heart she knew that even should they survive, all hope would now be lost to them on this alien world.

‘300’

‘Come on you rootot’, she cursed through clenched teeth, referring to the slow moving slug-like creature that grazed on the forest mosses of her home world.

‘200’

White knuckled, and with tendons stretched to protestation, she fought her craft to keep to the centre of the canyon.

‘100’

‘Ahhhrrrggg.’

The impact had slammed her hard against her restraints. Pain exploded in her hand as it was wrenched away from the controls striking the console, and she was swamped in a wave of blackness.

Now, as she sat dazedly staring at the blinking red light, her sluggish memory caught up with real time. Alarm coursed through her body, snapping her from her stupor.

‘Kargon, where are you?’

The atmosphere processors were still functioning, clearing away the acrid smoke and steam that previously had clouded her vision. As she struggled to unbuckle her restraint, wincing at the sting of what promised to become the most memorable bruises of her life, her eyes searched amongst the clutter of the cabin.

There, obscured by wreckage, scrunched up under the far console, eyes open, unmoving.

‘Kargon’ she cried, salt again stinging her eyes as she stumbled across the canted deck. She felt his pulse. It was weak but steady, as was his breathing, the result of being crammed in such a confined space.

A glance at his mediscreen indicated that he was unconscious, possibly concussed. Relief dizzied her. If he had incurred no more serious damage she would rejoice. The fact that they were still alive was reason enough for celebration. Her injured hand caused her to wince as she grabbed his comsuit and dragged him from the wreckage. This seemed to ease his breathing, but further treatment would have to wait, as more pressing concerns required immediate attention.

Where were they? What was the status of the ship? Supplies and cargo, were they damaged, or worse? Had they been tracked, or had her ruse worked? Had their sudden descent and impact been observed by any of the inhabitants of this world?

‘One thing at a time.’ she thought as she picked her way back to her console. Her first priority was to complete the disconnection of the ship’s emergency homing beacon, which Kargon had commenced on their escape, just in case it could be triggered remotely. This would prevent those who sought them from locating their position. She carefully removed the device, as it would be needed soon to help bait the trap Kargon had devised.

Although resting at an uncomfortable angle the ship was relatively upright. Diagnostics still functioned and, apart from minor damage to four panels of the shell, the ship was remarkably intact. The thrusters though had been badly weakened through their exertions. They would be able to lift the Corotus a short distance above the ground, but it could no longer be used for long trips at high altitude until repairs could be affected, and here that was not likely.

‘What good fortune smiles upon us?’ wondered Choora in amazement, not actually believing the readouts. Even with all the deceleration they had forced out of the thrusters, their speed was still too great to have survived an impact with the rocky ground. The Corotus should rightly be in several pieces strewn across this valley floor.

She returned her attention to her monitor and scrolled for a view through several sensor ports. One showed a night view of the valley down which they had travelled, however the remaining four showed nothing. This puzzled her, as diagnostics indicated them to be undamaged.

In an effort to solve this mystery she released a remote probe from near the sensor port that still functioned. The screen displaying the view from that port showed a small round object drifting slowly away from the ship towards the backdrop of stars.

Whilst watching on a second monitor Choora manipulated controls, causing the remote to rotate slowly to face the ship as it drifted further away. Soon she had a view from the remote, and the image it sent back explained much. The ship was all but buried.

For millennia the torrential wet seasons had weathered away at these cliffs. Grain by grain they had eroded, washing in rivulets down throughout the canyon. The ground here was not rock, but sand, and the Corotus had ploughed a mighty furrow along this dried watercourse, pushing before it the huge mound of sand in which it now lay embedded.

‘No wonder the other view ports show nothing’, thought Choora, ‘they’re buried.’

She manipulated the controls, moving the probe further back along their path, marvelling anew at their deliverance from destruction as the view screen displayed the extent of the damage their sudden arrival had wrought.

‘Had we veered to either side .……Ugh.’ she shivered. Delayed reaction to this scenario seized her and she began to shake uncontrollably.

‘P…p..pull yourself together.’ she berated herself, ‘This is no time to start s-snivelling. There’s too much to d-do.’

Shakily at first, she started the probe in a slow search of their surrounds. The cliff walls penned them on two sides and the valley ran on in a straight line behind them, and then veered to their right in a slow arc further ahead. Relief helped steady her as she noted that nowhere did the probe detect signs of habitation. Farther down the valley a small group of large animals seemed to be grazing on the stubby vegetation that grew near the sides of the valley floor, pausing occasionally to glance warily about. They watched the probe as it skirted them, and then resumed their foraging. Moving the probe closer to the creatures for a better look caused them to startle, and they hurried further away down the valley with curious bounding movements. Choora dismissed them as being non-threatening and resumed her survey of their surrounds.

The ground on either side of the valley sloped upwards steeply, and then suddenly became cliffs that were near to vertical, but were pockmarked with several overhangs, one of which formed a large cavernous space where its base met the slope.

‘That’s big enough to hide us’, thought Choora. ‘Provided we’ve still got enough power and control to pull us out from all this sand.’

Diagnostics said yes, barely. However a manoeuvre of this kind would all but exhaust the remaining power. This could be replenished tomorrow when the sun rose. The skin of the Corotus contained, amongst other things, an array of efficient solar cells that would enable their systems to recharge. The question was, could she successfully manoeuvre the craft into that cavern with her hand still damaged. The answer, she decided, was that she must. It would be too dangerous to remain where they now rested, at the head of the telltale furrow they had scored into the land. To do so would surely be to risk discovery.

Rebooting the systems that had crashed with them took little effort. The thrusters engaged with a noticeable grinding protest, so she carefully moved the craft skywards to free it from its entombment. The dry sand slid off the hull easily and the Corotus rose slightly. Holding the control stick with both hands, lest her weakened grip bring further havoc, Choora moved the craft carefully up the slope towards the overhang. Watching the monitors that displayed views both from the now functioning view ports and from the probe that hovered behind she guided the Corotus in under the protruding rock, manoeuvring so that the damaged panels of the shell were to the cliff side of the craft. Bumping them against the rear wall would not cause further damage, and would serve to conceal them.

The move consumed slightly less power than anticipated, so Choora re-engaged the optics in the ship’s skin, which she had shut down during her rush to gain all the available power she could glean for their descent.

The skin of the Corotus also contained a dense network of optical fibres. The computer would make all the necessary adjustments so, to a casual observer, the ship would not be noted. The view from the rear of the ship would be projected on to the outwardly facing surface. The damaged sections at the rear would project as the dark of a cave. Hopefully that cave would not invite scrutiny.

Satisfied she had done all that was possible to safeguard themselves against early discovery, Choora returned to assist Kargon. His mediscreen showed that his condition had improved. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Closer inspection revealed a large bump on his temple and some bruising across his back, but no other damage.

‘Sleep well, my love.’ she whispered ‘and awake to this new adventure, for I fear we will be sorely taxed for some time to come.’

Leaving Kargon to his slumber Choora tended to her own hurts. Whilst bandaging her hand and applying salve to ease her bruised body she called up a more detailed analysis of the damage they had sustained. Diagnostics showed that they had lost half their water, one canister splitting on impact and spilling over the floor. The atmosphere processors would recover most of that as it evaporated. Most importantly, apart from the general mess and debris spread throughout the cabin, the ship and its cargo were intact, including all three hibernaculums. They would need them, especially if they had to exist for some time here in this arid region. Water might be unattainable.

They had intended to land on the more fertile East coast of this continent, where water was not a scarcity. On that coast was the main concentration of humans on this island. That was where they had planned to start their campaign to save this world.

Though their plans would have to be revised, their objective remained the same.

A groan alerted her to Kargon’s arousal. She helped him sit up and moved her finger to and fro before his eyes, watching as they followed its progress. At first they appeared a little cross-eyed, but soon focussed on their prey.

‘Good. You don’t seem to have suffered any concussion. Considering the size of that lump on your head that’s quite a relief.’

‘I’ll feel even better when the percussion section stops beating a crescendo in my head.’ he replied. ‘What happened? The last I remember is the auxiliary kicking in and throwing me off balance.’

She detailed the last few minutes of their descent, her subsequent exploration of their situation and status of the ship.

‘By the balls of the Kaguk!’ he exclaimed, stealing the famous curse from the classic play by Rolinot. ‘That sounds frightening enough to make me glad I missed it. Help me up please.’

She helped him to stand and walk over to the console.

He looked at the monitors and commenced manoeuvring the probe to explore the general area around the ship. He needed to get a look at the terrain first hand. Noting her bandage he asked ‘Your hand is hurt. Do you have other injuries?’

‘It’s just sprained; nothing’s broken, though I’m pretty badly bruised. I should be all right in a week or so. We were lucky.’

‘Less attributable to good fortune and more a salute to your skill and determination that we survived at all.’ he smiled. ‘Do you know where we are?’

‘I patched into the humans’ Nav-Sat system. We’re slightly north and much farther west of our preferred site.’ she said, whilst calling up a display which showed distances on one of the monitors.

‘Quite a distance.’ noted Kargon. ‘We will never be able to cross so far un-remarked, nor can we use the Corotus to move us there. The thruster is too badly damaged for long flight, and the damaged section of the skin means that we would be able to be detected by the humans’ radar. I doubt that we could repair it ourselves even if we had the necessary replacement sections. We will have to devise another means of initiating our plan. For that we will have to co-opt much help from the humans themselves, and that may prove hazardous. We will have to move very cautiously as humans are unpredictable.

If they react in fear they will attack, then all will be undone. We must work slowly to gain their support.’

‘I have an idea on this.’ responded Choora. ‘According to our research this area is inhabited by more than one culture, and some of these may be more open to coercion through their strong cultural ties than others. I will research this further.’

‘That is welcome news!’ sighed Kargon, though his face bore the worried frown of one grasping for answers to their situation. ‘More important for the moment, we must access control of the occinols. I will transmit the Recall signal, and then we will have to modify them so that they respond only to ourselves.’

‘Once we initiate Recall they will stop transmitting to Mara Base. When the occinol reports cease Simanto will know that we have arrived intact. Is that not a risk?’ queried Choora.

‘Whilst Simanto will expect to use the occinols to seek us out, he will not suspect that we have the programme to initiate Recall. He won’t be on guard against loosing control of the occinols. It will take him some time to respond, however there is little he can do once we gain control of the network. Recall will not betray our location, and an influx of occinols is less likely to be noticed by humans in this desolate place.’

‘How long will it be before the occinols commence arriving?’

"The network is sparse, comprising only three to four units per continental region. I would expect those from this island within a few days. Others from the southern hemisphere should follow, as they will utilise the jet stream. Those from the northern hemisphere will take longer to reach us.’ responded Kargon as he settled himself before a computer console.

2

Murranjirri moved down the rocks towards the waterhole. The rattle of the stones dislodged by his boots alerted a small mob of roos resting nearby. They scrambled to their feet, ears erect and watching the figure in the distance as it sauntered towards them. Ever cautious, they commenced hopping in the opposite direction towards a stubbly clump of trees and grasses. From here they would watch and, if necessary, take flight should this intruder prove more menacing. Meanwhile this scrub would provide both shade and grazing. It would not have been long before they sought such a place to rest out the day as the temperature was starting to climb now that dawn had passed.

He bent to top up his canteen. This would be the last waterhole until he reached his grandmother’s place some 30 kilometres further on. The heat would not worry him as he had lived in these parts all his life. He was Koori, the Aboriginal race. His forebears had lived in this region for centuries and knew its ways. He would rest for four hours during the hottest part of the day, conserving both energy and sweat, and then continue his journey. He had made this trek several times over the past years.

Murray, as he was called by the folk over at Currendilly Downs station where he worked as a stockman during the cattle mustering or at other odd times, was of thin wiry build. His limbs were long, his features angular giving a gaunt appearance, and his skin the dark of his ancestors. Although of mixed race on his father’s side, his mother’s side was still full-blood. The old ways still held a strong need upon his spirit and so it was that when he had done with his work on the station he would go walkabout, returning to his grandmother’s place. They would sit and talk by the fire. He would catch up on all the news from his relatives who were also visiting, a birth here, a death there, or how silly Bunjji broke his leg during the breaking in of the stallions down Warra way. The flying doc had to patch him up.

Most news came to his grandmother’s camp as others like him came to share their experiences and hear those of others in return. Here also the old tales would be told, stories from the Dreamtime and of his people’s history that he had heard before in his youth and, though they sometimes seemed to him as fairytales, they never failed to strengthen his spirit and bring him peace. This valley was a shortcut with which he was familiar.

He bent and took a good long drink then dipped his battered Akubra into the water, soaking it, and stuck it back on his head, letting the water run down his neck and over his shirt. It wouldn’t take long to dry in this arid place. Replacing the lid on his canteen he set off down the valley. Another three hours and he would rest.

Two hours further into his trip he came across a feature he had never seen before. The ground had been ripped up in a straight line and pushed along into a huge mound of sand and broken bush and spinifex. That the spinifex was still flexible and the bushes still not fully dried out told him that this excavation was recent, a day or two old. It was not unusual for some mining company or prospecting team to be searching in the outback. As he moved around the furrow he noted that there were neither machinery tracks nor footprints anywhere to be seen.

‘Strange fella that!’ he puzzled aloud to himself. If people had been here, then the ground should be covered with tracks. Even beyond the start of the ditch there were no signs that anyone had been here. He had been taught tracking by his people and was reckoned a pretty fair sort of tracker. Even helped the police one time in tracking down a young kid that had gone missing over near Eucula way. However this had him stumped. He started walking back up the other side of the ditch looking for clues.

‘Take a pretty big shovel to move all that dirt.’ he mused to himself as he again approached the mound. ‘Musta been one of them meteor things that I heard about, but they supposed to leave a big hole, a crater.’

He recalled a fella over at Eucula pub telling that he once found one on his land down Adelaide way. Blokes from the museum in the city paid up big for it, and it was only the size of a kero tin. This fella must be a big one if it pushed up that much ground.

He stood for a while wondering if he should try to dig it out, but he had no spade and didn’t know how deep it would be buried, or even if that was the real cause of this ditch and mound.

Anyway it was time to take a rest away out of the sun for a while, and he could think about it whilst he waited out the heat. He cast his eyes about for a place to rest in the shade. He didn’t remember that cave up there either, but he’d never had reason to pause in this spot on his previous trips, nor take much note of things in this part of the valley. Could be a good spot to camp out if he came back to dig for the meteor. Better go and check it out.

The proximity alarm alerted them well before Murray had even noticed the evidence of their sudden arrival in the valley. They hurried to the monitor expecting this to be another false alarm. The remote probe had alerted them twice before in the preceding days when the strange hopping animals had begun foraging in their part of the valley. What they saw astounded them.

Previously Kargon had spent some time transmitting the Recall sequence to terminate any occinol transmissions to Base, and then to cause them to home in on their downed craft. He had then spent some time putting the cabin to rights before retiring to rest.

Choora, however, had sat for quite a while at a computer terminal reviewing all that they had learned about the people who inhabited this part of the continent on which they had arrived.

The archival material they had amassed on Earth’s people, their culture, their animal and plant life was quite exhaustive. Earth had for decades now been pumping electromagnetic transmissions into space on every conceivable subject. Mara Base monitored these transmissions avidly, sifting through the information and sending huge quantities of it back to Ama, where there were whole schools involved in the study of various aspects of Earth, which were gleaned from these transmissions.

Language programmes, nature documentaries, arts & music (indeed some of the music and art forms from this planet had become quite in vogue back on Ama). Cultural Development was the field that most interested Choora, and that was broken up into many speciality fields. Religious belief systems and their evolution, comedy (of which prodigious amounts were daily transmitted by the humans, but which she generally found very perplexing rather than humorous), current affairs, politics, language, arts, etc…

Her expertise had been in this study, and her work on these subjects had brought her quite some kudos in the academic circles.

As she sat at the terminal, her fields of inquiry were much more specific. She had learned that the hopping animals were called kangaroos, were plant eaters, and were not considered dangerous unless cornered, when they could use their large hind limbs to disembowel their enemy.

more importantly she researched the culture of the peoples of this land, this Australia. The light-skinned people, who were the most populous on this continent, were relative newcomers to this land. When they had begun arriving here some 300 earth years ago, they brought with them technology (poor though it was when they first arrived from their own lands), several non-native species of animals and plants (which caused much devastation to the native eco-system), and new diseases (which caused much devastation to the then native population of humans).

The light-skinned humans then set about expanding their own culture and interests at the expense of anything that stood in their way. Now they were the dominant people in this part of the Earth, and the ones that had to be reckoned with as Choora and Kargon went forward with their plan.

Such was the evolution of the history of cultures, mused Choora. The more advanced or aggressive races would overpower and conquer the lesser races. Similar events had happened on Ama. It always amazed Choora how similar were the histories of their two planets.

The dark-skinned humans were the original inhabitants of this land. Before the coming of the light-skinned humans they had been a simple and relatively primitive race. They were tribal based, either being nomadic or settled in small regions, fishing, hunting and gathering for subsistence. They had strong and varied beliefs and, like most developing cultures, had developed their own understanding of how the universe was created, how it worked, and their place in it. Although their encounter with the new invading civilisation had radically altered this, many of their old beliefs were still celebrated. It was into these that Choora had delved.

Over the following day as they awaited the arrival of the nearest occinol they had carried out the many necessary repairs and Choora had explained her thoughts to Kargon.

‘So we must seek a Koori human. They would be less resistant to our plea, given their culture. Besides, we look the part.’

‘True, though we must await the arrival of the occinols before we can seek one out. We will have to find a suitable candidate, and that may take much time.’

Now, despite no occinol having yet arrived, the one that they yet hoped to seek out walked into their valley. He spent some time inspecting the damaged valley floor, and then miraculously began moving towards them. They hurried to be ready. Whilst they had formulated a framework of a plan, they would need to improvise to save their lives.

As Murray started his climb towards the Corotus Kargon sat at a monitor watching him via the remote probe. About Kargon’s head rested a circlet of metal attached to the computer console by several thin cables. This was designed to register and transmit on a frequency similar to those of the human Alpha waves, so he could both monitor the human’s state of excitement and reinforce a feeling of calm by transmitting a stronger pulse if the human required pacifying. It was all a bit experimental, as this had never been attempted on an Earther for many thousands of years. Such a device was now outlawed on Ama.

He felt a moment of anxiety for Choora, now clad in a grey robe, as she prepared to exit the Corotus and follow her strategy based on the cultural heritage of these dark skinned ones. If she could justify her appearance based on the belief structure of this human then much could be achieved. If, however, the human became aggressive and attacked her she would be forced to use the weapon she concealed in the sleeve of her robe.

It would fire a dart attached to a thin wire into the flesh of the human and discharge a high voltage shock, ample to disable him at first, but with enough in reserve to kill if necessary. Their biology might be different, yet the effects of a high voltage shot would be the same regardless. He hoped that no action would be required as this was an opportunity unexpected in this barren land and too good to waste. He extinguished all the lights in the cabin, consoles and computers, everything except for one thin beam directly above a seat upon which Choora would place herself, provided the human could be coerced inside. It would not prevent the human seeing his surroundings, but it would focus his attention on Choora, and lessen his recall of any details to relate to others should this all go amiss. He then positioned himself in a corner out of view and commenced his task of directing the Alpha pulses towards the human.

As Murray moved towards the cave he felt a slight dizziness. ‘Shoulda started resting before now, gettin too hot,’ he muttered to himself. ‘Better get into the shade.’ He squatted on his haunches for a moment, shaking his head to clear the muzziness that seemed to have come over him as he climbed towards the cave. Standing, he continued to climb. He didn’t see her until he was nearly upon her as his eyes were downcast to watch his footing.

The first thing he noted was her clothes, a grey flowing robe with its hem dusting the ground.

‘Shit!’ he cried, jumping back a pace, simply at the surprise of finding anyone else out here. Then his eyes ran up the robe and he froze, bug-eyed and slack-jawed. The face wasn’t human, nor were the upturned clawed hands presented beseechingly towards him.

‘Do not be afraid!’ the creature said, …and surprisingly, he wasn’t.

Apart from the initial shock of the encounter he felt remarkably at peace, totally untroubled. Here he was in the middle of the outback, looking at some oversized talking animal in a frock, and he felt wholly at ease. He felt puzzled at this rather than alarmed.

‘I am Kujari, the possum spirit. I come to you from the Dreamtime to bring a warning to you and all your people.’

That made sense thought Murray, or at least offered an explanation for such a thing. As a matter of fact it was the only possible explanation, he thought. It looks sorta like a possum with its hairy face, not real tall, somewhat flat snout and pointy ears, but no whiskers. Sort of a like a cross between a person and a possum.

‘Shit’ he thought again, feeling that he should bolt back down the slope, but a wave of calm again seemed to engulf him, dizzying and confusing him. He stood watching, waiting. The creature did not threaten him, though it spoke again

‘I come with a warning.’ it repeated, ‘for you and your people to heed. Will you hear my words so that you may understand?’

Murray didn’t move, totally frozen between his desire to flee from this inexplicable sight and the feeling of calm that strangely surrounded him.

‘Come.’ It said as it turned and moved towards the mouth of the cave. ‘There is much need to talk for there is great urgency. You are needed to help your people. Kujari comes from the Dreamtime with warning, and a brave man is required to prevent great wrong. Come…. Come.’

Despite his misgivings Murray started towards the cave. His thoughts seemed muddled. Only the words Kujari had spoken seemed to have any relevance. Other thoughts were excluded from his mind. Kujari needed him, Kujari needed a brave man to help his people. Kujari has come from the Dreamtime and chosen him to help his people.

In the middle of the cave mouth was an opening, a door with a ramp leading up into the blackness. He followed, puzzling at the feel of a smooth door surround in what before looked like the shadow of a rough cave entrance under an overhang of rock.

‘Powerful magic.’ he thought, ‘Dreamtime spirit magic.’

Then for a while he thought no more.

It was going surprisingly smoothly, thought Kargon. The Earther appeared very responsive to the calming effects of the Alpha pulses, and Choora’s repetition of her story had a hypnotic effect upon the human. Indeed it had only required a short burst for him to become placid, almost dreamlike and, if the readouts were to be believed, he seemed to be entranced. He had followed Choora into the Corotus with little more than a passing interest in his surroundings.

Choora kept repeating her story. She was the possum spirit, she came from the Dreamtime, and she needed a brave strong man to save his people from a great danger. He was the one to deliver his people into safety. Now he sat on the floor, seemingly oblivious to his dark surroundings, focussing only on Choora as she sat regarding him, intent on her alone.

‘Many years have passed since I walked with your people.’ she said. ‘Now is the time that I need to return again to guide you. The white man has come; he is destroying your land. He has cut down the forests where the possum and wallaby live. He has fenced off the lands where the kangaroo and emu once ran free. He is destroying the land where once your ancestors walked. He pollutes the waters where you once fished. All the animal spirits worry that he will destroy the land, and in doing so will destroy the Dreaming.

We animal spirits have all awoken from our slumber. We have all come together and held a great meeting where we sang many songs of the land, long since forgotten by even the eldest of your people. We talked for many cycles of the moon and we decided that we must return to your people. I, Kujari, have been chosen to call to the people. But it has been many years, too many years, since your people have seen us Spirits. They may not recognise us. They may fear us and run away from us. If they flee from us then how can we save the land?

I seek a brave man to help me. To bring the people to me so I may teach them. Will you help?’

Murray sat there overawed by the presence before him. That a spirit of the Dreaming should appear to him and seek his help in saving the land was the most stunning bit of news that he could have ever conceived. That the old tales were true was now beyond doubt. In his induced state of relaxation no other possible explanation was possible. He was fully committed to this new fate, mesmerised by it. He was no longer capable of even questioning this, even to himself. The fact that he now sat in what looked to him like the darkened cockpit of a 747 filled with computers and dials and things did not interrupt his attention. He did not even see Kargon sitting quietly in the corner. Later when he left he would be unable to recall any details of his surroundings.

‘Yeah, I’ll help.’

‘Will you tell me your name?’

‘Murranjirri, but most folks call me Murray.’

‘I am pleased to meet you. What are you doing in this valley?’

‘I’m headin down south to visit my lations.’

‘Lations?’ Choora asked puzzled.

‘Relations, family - Hey, are they gunna get a shock about you!’

‘Murranjirri, listen carefully, you must not tell them yet. They may be frightened. They may run away. They may hurt the Dreaming. You do not wish this to happen, do you?’

‘No.’ said Murray, feeling embarrassed that he had caused Kujari concern that he might accidentally hurt the Dreaming. He didn’t want to do that. No!

‘Are they expecting you to visit them?’

‘Yeah, always go there round this time of year.’

‘Listen carefully, here is what I would like you to do to help your people.’

Slowly, Choora explained her requirements, pausing several times to ensure that Murray understood what she told him, repeating many times, reinforcing. He must return to her as soon as he had made his visit. He must bring with him only one other person, a person who was held in high regard by his people, a person who was trusted by his people. Someone who knew the old stories! Most importantly he must not tell this other what he had seen. He must not tell anyone where he and this other were going, or why they both were going. However he must convince this other that it was necessary that they go on this journey.

‘Do you understand?’

‘Yes.’

‘When you return you must bring food for me, as a gift. Fruit and vegetables only.’

(The supplies they carried would not last forever, and replenishment must be found.)

Finally Choora felt that she could do no more, and rose to see Murray on his way. When they emerged from the Corotus the sky was the twilight of dusk.

‘Travel well, Murranjirri. I look forward to your return.’

She watched as he moved off down the slope to the valley floor, and then returned to the Corotus.

Murray glanced back, and in the failing light could just make out the dark opening of the cave.

‘Powerful Spirit magic.’ he thought to himself, and then proceeded on his trip as if nothing unusual had occurred.

Choora slumped down in the nearest chair as Kargon closed the door and reactivated the lighting and consoles.

‘Excellent!’ exclaimed Kargon. ‘I’m so happy with the way your plan has unfolded that I could dance.’

His excitement seemed to overwhelm him and he started dancing round the limited space the Corotus floor offered with short little steps and hops that brought a laugh from Choora. When he offered her his hand to join him she shook her head and smiled.

‘By the Kaguk I’m tired.’ she said. ‘I need a drink, my throat is dry, and I need to wash. I was so nervous that I must have sweated half my weight. I smell.’

Kargon ceased his prancing and brought a beaker for them both and while Choora sipped he sat observing the monitors and watching Murray via the remote, which he released to follow him for a while.

‘You did well.’ he said. ‘I too found this tiring, but you bore the brunt. That is the first hurdle overcome, or so it seems. He responded to your instructions very well. I believe that your approach based on his cultural background was the wisest course.’ A three-note beep from a nearby consol interrupted him. He glanced at the display. ‘Rest now, for it seems that two occinols have arrived. I must tend to their reprogramming.’

‘That is well, though I cannot help you with that task. We have enough water so I can wash. If you need me I’ll be in the decontamination cubicle freshening up.’

Kargon smiled. Choora had done extraordinarily well through this whole affair. She could do with a little luxury. Things may not remain so. He picked up a remote control and proceeded to the door. Immediately upon opening the door he pressed the keys to transmit the recognition signal to the waiting occinols. One already rested upon the ground, the other circled in from above to sit beside its partner.

Moving cautiously at first Kargon proceeded towards the quiescent occinols. When no reaction was forthcoming to his presence he picked both up and carried them back into the Corotus. Setting them on a console he attached three magnetic clips to one and sat to begin the process of keying in new instructions.

Some time later Choora emerged from refreshing herself, wearing a clean robe and a look of contentment.

‘Ah, that feels better. Is all going well?’

‘Look at this. There are programmes within the occinol that I cannot access.’

Choora looked over his shoulder at the monitor, but the list of computer language meant nothing to her.

‘I can’t read that. You’ll have to tell me what it means.’

‘Apologies, I’m perplexed. All the programmes are available to me except these. I can’t gain access