Two Moons

By Talmadge Walker

The death of the Azcaczhi prelate on Diabra plunges three worlds into chaos, exposing them all to an old enemy and a new threat. Can their new enemy be stopped? Can their allies be trusted?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Talmadge Walker
• Release date: Apr 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215668696

Talmadge Walker

Originally from Alabama, Talmadge Walker is a semi-retired former EC teacher. He lives in Hillsborough, NC with his wife and three kids.

Book preview

Two Moons

By

Talmadge Walker

Contents

A Death on Diabra

Return to Lemnos

The Conference

The Voyage

Contact

Flight

Pursuit

An Extended Visit

Homecoming

Sabotage

Confrontation

Resolution

A Death on Diabra

I think I am dying.

The message had been short, incredibly short, but it had sent the governments of two planets into a frenzy. Azcaczhi argued with Azcaczhi, Tabronese argued with Tabronese, and delegations from each of the planets argued with each other, but no consensus could be reached anywhere over how to respond to the news.

Some…, well many, on both planets favored an all-out military assault on the moon they called Diabra, designed to destroy the Outlander colony there once and for all. But the Azcaczhi Council of Prelates, for reasons they would not reveal, forbade any attack by their government, and without Azcaczhi consent the Tabronese did not dare strike for fear of renewing the old war.

But while there was no consensus on the use of force, everyone did agree on the need for information, so an Azcaczhi team, with Tabronese observers, was to be sent to Diabra to find out what was going on. Now that team was in orbit above Diabra, preparing to land on the moon very few had visited since the Outlander invasion decades past.

Sherva looked around at the landing team he would be commanding. The troopers all looked nervous. None of them had ever been to Diabra, and they were all too young to have seen the Outlanders back during the attack on their own planet. Even Dervon, the young prelate who was slated to replace the old man down on Diabra, seemed tense and preoccupied. Only Dura, the middle-aged woman who was here to represent the Tabronese, seemed unworried.

Sherva gave the order to board the landing transport, and all the men streamed inside, plus Dura. Once everyone was aboard and buckled in, Sherva began to lecture the troops on how they were to act down on the moon’s surface.

We do not know how the Outlanders will react to the death of Prelate AlTiensen, so we are going in armed, but I want everyone to keep their rifles at their shoulder. Do not fire, or even aim, unless I give the command. AlTiensen has forged some sort of bond with these Outlanders, and that bond has given our planet fifty years of breathing room. I will not have anyone under my command ruin that.

Most of the men nodded or grunted. Sherva looked around at each trooper, trying to judge who might panic or overreact. He needed more than just ordinary battle courage for what they might face down on Diabra. Almost all Azcaczhi had that. But today they would need a cold-eyed calm, a refusal to react to any stimulus, no matter how shocking, until Sherva himself gave the word.

Two of the soldiers seemed antsier than the others – not so much afraid as nervous. Sherva would leave them behind to guard the transport. Once that internal decision was made, he relaxed a bit and turned toward Dura.

I saw your grandfather once.

Really? She seemed a little surprised. You must have been young…

Oh yes, I was very young. Not much more than a toddler really. Our family would sometimes invite him to our family gatherings, so I probably saw him several times, but I only remember the one.

That’s right! Dura blurted. You’re in Jarvas’ family, right? Grandfather took me along to some of those gatherings…

Sherva looked at her more closely. Hmm. I vaguely remember a young Tabronese woman who was with him. Was that you? She seemed much bigger.

That’s probably because you were much smaller.

Sherva smiled and nodded. Yes, you’re probably right. He leaned back into the seat and grew a little reminiscent. Our family always maintained respect for him. I think he – and Geldon – showed us how to be simultaneously courageous and gentle. He…

Commander, the pilot interrupted, we’ll be landing in a moment.

Sherva nodded, and ordered everyone to buckle up again for the landing. The approach went smoothly, and Sherva watched with interest as the transport drew close to and entered the old hidden port. He had never been here before, but many of his older relatives had, and they had briefed him extensively before he left Azcaczhi.

They only knew the layout of the land and the buildings though. And even that may have been changed by the Outlanders in the decades since their arrival. But what Sherva really needed to know was how the Outlanders would react to the presence of a troop of Azcaczhi.

The reports from Prelate AlTiensen had indicated that the Outlanders born on Diabra were not aggressive. When they had hatched, none of the adult, invading Outlanders were present, so the only socializing influence came from AlTiensen himself. No one knew what might happen when the prelate died though, or what the Outlanders would do if more Azcaczhi showed up. Was the aggressiveness of the older Outlanders a genetic trait? Or could the Outlanders born here be good neighbors, or even allies?

Sherva’s speculations were put on hold, as the landing transport touched down. Everyone unbuckled and got their gear together. Once the entire landing party was outside, Sherva ordered two of the troopers – the ones he had already singled out in his mind – to stay behind and guard the transport. They argued for a moment, almost begging to go, but Sherva viewed that as even more reason to leave them behind, though he did not tell them so. He valued their courage, but on this mission he could not risk anyone who might be too free with the trigger.

Once that was settled, Sherva led the others, including Dervon and Dura, through the tunnel that opened out onto the countryside. The first thing they noticed was the view. Both Sherva and Dura had heard tales of the old Jarvas family compound, but most of those tales, or at least the ones they paid attention to, focused on the arrival of either Geldon or the Outlanders. None of the stories had dwelt upon the landscape, but now here it was spread out before them.

They stood on the side of a mountain, roughly three fourths of the way to the peak, and other mountains, a few taller, loomed off in the distance in all directions. Down in the valley Sherva could see Diabra City. The taller buildings showed tell-tale signs of damage from the invasion, left unrepaired when the Azcaczhi evacuated the moon.

From here the city looked deserted. No flying craft zoomed or hovered overhead. No sound came from the city of traffic or industry, except for a low humming drone you could only detect after listening for a minute. Dura was the first to detect it.

Can you hear that? she asked of Sherva, who promptly called for quiet from the rest of the team.

Once everyone was silent, the sound could be heard clearly, though low in volume.

There’s a rhythm to it, Prelate Dervon said after a moment.

Sherva nodded uncertainly. Is it machinery?

No. I think it’s organic, Dervon answered. Somehow it sounds familiar…

The rest of the team was unconvinced, and even though the humming noise seemed familiar to Dervon, he could not quite place it. Sherva leaned down and touched the ground, feeling for any vibration that might have indicated heavy machinery. He could feel nothing unusual. Puzzled, he stood back up. Was this some Outlander trick? But surely AlTiensen would have sent word if they were planning something?

There was only one way to find out more. Let’s move on, Sherva said.

He led the team along the trail around the mountain, and soon the old Jarvas family compound came into view. Sherva had only seen it in pictures – few now alive had seen it first hand – but the sight was unmistakable. Though there was some visible damage remaining from the invasion, all the buildings looked to be intact.

The team trudged closer in silence, watching closely for any movement and listening for any sound above the low background hum. But nothing happened to disrupt the quiet. They reached the back entrance to the compound and filed inside.

Sherva had read the report of the previous mission to Diabra, and he had talked to all the survivors that were still around. What surprised him now was how little change there had been between that earlier visit, decades ago, and now. AlTiensen had confirmed that the Outlanders had hatched and grown and reproduced and multiplied, but there was no sign of any further damage to the buildings in the compound. Seemingly the only change was the depth of the dust in the corners, and occasional signs of vermin and other small animals that had wandered in over the years.

Sherva and Dura led the team out the front entrance. Although both the domesticated and wild vegetation was overgrown overall, there was one section of the yard that lay clear and manicured. When the team drew closer they saw several graves, worn down but well-kept, each with no personal identification but all bearing a flat stone etched with the emblem of the Azcaczhi Defense Corps.

The report mentioned that several of our soldiers were buried here, Sherva told the group. They had been killed during the invasion but had been left otherwise undisturbed. Jarvas assigned part of his team to be a burial detail while the rest went down into the city.

One of the troopers nodded and said: That explains this then.

Not quite. These graves were dug decades ago, but someone’s been trimming the grass and the vines around them. Someone’s been here in the last few weeks, possibly in the last few days.

The old prelate, one of the troopers suggested.

I doubt it. It’s a long walk from the city, and his health’s been failing…

Well who then? Not the Outlanders?

Sherva nodded. Who else could it be? AlTiensen must have trained them to show respect for the dead. It’s a good sign.

Sherva gave them all a moment to let that understanding sink in, then he led the team out of the compound. Once outside, the humming noise in the background seemed slightly, incrementally louder. Still, no one could identify it, though both Dervon and Dura were listening intently. Sherva gave a command, and they all started walking down the road toward the city.

Be ready for anything, Sherva reminded them, but remember, don’t shoot unless I give the order.

As they continued onward, Sherva noticed that the road was deserted but clean. No debris lay on it, not even the wind-blown leafy matter one often finds in abandoned cities. Though there was no business-as-usual here, something was definitely going on.

And the noise. As they drew closer to the city the noise grew gradually louder, and now they could all make out a rhythm, a cadence, that reminded them all of something just on the tip of consciousness. The noise reminded Sherva of his youth, back on some of his family’s outer farms prior to harvest-time, when some of the insectoid species would come down in hordes to try to devour the crops.

The masses of creatures had often unnerved him as a young child, and this noise threatened to do the same, especially since the memory reminded him of the creatures they would be dealing with shortly. The Outlanders had always seemed too different to respond to any attempts at communication. Had the old Prelate been successful where others had failed? And this new noise of the Outlanders – for it seemed obvious now they were generating the noise – what did it represent? Were they preparing to wipe Diabra clean of vegetation? Were they getting ready to go forth and assault other planets? Or were they calling out to the home planet of their ancestors?

The last thought startled him to a near-panic, which he struggled to hide from the rest of the team. Sherva had heard the stories of the Outlander invasion many years ago. They had pushed the Azcaczhi off the moon in hours, and it had taken the best of luck and cooperation from the Tabronese, who the Azcaczhi had been in near-perpetual war with, to keep the Outlanders from conquering the Azcaczhi home planet.

After the invasion of Azcaczhi was thrown back, many had wanted to return to Diabra and destroy the Outlander hatchlings that had been left there. They wanted their moon back, and they worried that the young Outlanders might form the base of a second invasion force. The Religious Guild forbade an attack on the hatchlings though, for reasons known only to them.

The generals had howled. Irresponsible! they cried, almost accusing the priests of treason. But the Religious Guild was a strong force among the Azcaczhi, and their word was – literally – law. The old prelate AlTiensen insisted that the young Outlanders on Diabra be left safe and alone, and the rest of the Guild supported him.

In all the years since, the prelate – he must be a hundred years old by now – had kept in contact with his own people, assuring them that these Outlanders on Diabra meant no harm and would not attack. But could he still be trusted? Where did his allegiance lie now? With Azcaczhi, or the Outlanders?

All those thoughts had been running through the minds of the political and military leaders back on Azcaczhi, and now they were running through Sherva’s head as well. He had never felt so uncertain, not knowing what situation they would run in to when they reached the city.

And the noise only made things worse. They were on the edge of the city now, marching inward toward the center and the Hagia, and as each step brought them closer it also intensified the sound. The droning was now so loud that Sherva had to shout orders to his troopers, and somehow its strangeness had increased along with its volume. The sound seemed so foreign and strange, and yet somehow so familiar, closer than the insect noises of his childhood, more integral to his life, to the lives of all the Azcaczhi. Sherva knew he had heard it before, or at least something like it, somehow undistorted.

Sherva’s thoughts were disrupted by a sudden, quick movement, not from the buildings ahead, but from within his own party.

Dervon! Wait! Sherva yelled, but the young prelate continued trotting ahead, and now Dura was running as well.

Exasperated, and for the moment regretting that he had allowed civilians on this trip, Sherva yelled again: Slow down! Why are you running?

Dervon twisted around, but continued to backpedal down the street. The noise! Don’t you recognize it? It’s the Death Chant!

The realization hit Sherva like a brick. Yes, it was the Death Chant, the ritual singing, chanting and ululation that the Azcaczhi used to ease the passing of some of their elders. Now it was obvious. The words and rhythms were distorted, but it was clearly what they were hearing. The Outlanders were singing the Azcaczhi Death Chant. But did this mean the Old Prelate was near death, or already dead?

Sherva resisted the urge to run after Dervon and Dura, and he ordered his men to slow down when a few of them wanted to run.

But Sir, what if they’re running into a trap? one of the troopers asked, referring to the civilians.

I don’t think so, Sherva replied. I’m pretty sure there’s no danger for them. And he meant that. If the Outlanders had tolerated AlTiensen for all these years, they would probably see no threat in Dervon or Dura. But what about the rest of the team? Would a dozen armed Azcaczhi be seen as a threat? Sherva looked back toward his men, all of whom looked nervous or overeager. Some of them were checking their weapons, but he put a stop to that.

There will be no fighting here unless I say so. Put your weapons away.

A few of the men grumbled, but they all accepted the order.

I want everyone behind me in single file. Space yourselves widely, five meters apart.

Maybe spacing everyone out might diminish the implied threat when the Outlanders saw them. At any rate it was worth a try. Once the men were in satisfactory order, Sherva resumed pacing forward. Dervon and Dura were out of sight now, having turned a corner up ahead. The noise grew louder and louder as Sherva drew closer to the turn, until it was almost overwhelming.

Finally, Sherva reached the corner and looked to his right. The cathedral stood at the end of a wide boulevard, and under different circumstances that would have been the focus of his attention. The Hagia of Diabra had been famous for its architecture and its religious importance, and since the Outlander invasion the building had become even more meaningful for the Azcaczhi, since its image reminded the people of what they had lost. Every Azcaczhi Sherva’s age and younger had seen paintings and drawings of the Diabra cathedral throughout their schools, homes and temples.

But for Sherva the impact of seeing that image for the first time was drowned out by what he saw before the cathedral. The building was several hundred meters ahead, but the way before it was filled with Outlanders, kneeling toward the Hagia and chanting. They weren’t blocking the way – there was space for one to make his way between the chanters, and Sherva could see Dervon and Dura already almost to the cathedral steps – but the boulevard looked as if it were covered by a sea of aliens, motionless except for a rhythmic movement of their jaws. Far off on the steps of the Hagia, a number of Outlanders – in Azcaczhi clerical garb! – stood surrounding a bier. Sherva was too far away to see who lay on the bier, but he knew who it was nonetheless. The only question was whether the old prelate was still living.

As the trooper behind him stepped up and beheld the Outlander throng, Sherva made a quick decision. Wait here, he ordered, and have the others wait here with you. I’m going up to the Hagia, and I want you all to follow me, but one at a time. Don’t let anyone proceed until I have reached the steps, and don’t let anyone else proceed until that person has reached the steps, and so on. Do you understand me?

Yes, Sir.

Then repeat what I said.

The trooper repeated Sherva’s order back to him in reasonably accurate form. Satisfied, Sherva turned about and began walking toward the cathedral, making his way between the Outlanders. Most of them ignored his presence, a few slid aside to give him easier passage, but none of them made any hostile movement. I wonder what Jarvas would think of this? he thought, as his worry gave way to awe and wonder.

Up ahead Dervon and Dura had now reached the steps. As they approached the bier, they could see an old Azcaczhi man, lying in the robes of a senior prelate. The Outlanders near the bier stepped aside, except for one who knelt down and seemed to communicate something to the old man. The old prelate’s eyes open, and they drifted down toward the man who was here to replace him.

Dervon could not quite tell how well the old man could see now. Could AlTiensen tell that his young replacement had arrived? Or was there just a new blur before him, blocking the light?

The old prelate smiled up at Dervon. He started to talk, and as he did so the Outlanders suddenly became silent. Dervon leaned down to hear better.

I’m glad you got here before I passed, the old man began. Though the prelate’s voice was hoarse, and they were surrounded by perhaps thousands of the Outlanders, the aliens were now totally silent and Dervon could hear him clearly. I was worried that I might die before you arrived, and my people – He weakly waved his hand to indicate the Outlanders all around them – might not have any guidance.

Dervon leaned in closer. What sort of guidance should I give them?

The old prelate tried to answer, but he could not get the words out. He inhaled loudly and roughly