The Dome 05: New Worlds

Raurri's leg was worse by nightfall. She tried to hide it, but her movements were cautious and she grimaced once or twice when she thought Xero wasn't looking.

Still, she insisted that they carry on downstream in the dark. She'd slept most of the day while Xero kept watch -- at first on the river, then on the cat-woman as the day went on and her sleep became more and more troubled.

He'd napped for a few hours himself after she woke, but his rest was interrupted by strange dreams. His mother looking happier than he remembered seeing her, and a tired Ro-Gara making her way up the massive cliff on a limping scorcher. Somehow he knew that these visions were real, not just wishful thinking.

His good mood didn't last long after he woke. Raurri was poking cautiously at the long slash on her thigh, but stopped when she saw him move.

"At least let me look at your wound!" he pleaded, but she snarled at him with bared teeth until he stepped back. "Alright, suit yourself. But I'll steer tonight."

For a moment it looked as if she was going to argue, then she shrugged. "I'll keep a lookout then. The riverworms only come to the surface during the daylight, but we'll have to stay clear of islands -- particularly if any boaters are spending the night there. Your sight is almost as bad in the dark as theirs."

And so they climbed on board their stolen barge and used long poles to push off from the day's refuge. The current caught them almost immediately, and after a few more pokes to keep them away from the bank they were on their way downriver.

Raurri took up position in the bow, eyes fixed ahead, while Xero kept his gaze on her. The low moon cast a silvery glow over her fur, gliding sensually over her form. His hope from that morning of finishing their earlier fuck had made place for concern over her wellbeing.

As if she felt him looking, she turned her head in his direction. "What?"

"Just enjoying looking at you." He grinned and let his eyes linger on her arse.

The lie seemed to work. She snorted and turned away again, but the mood felt a little warmer.

They continued along as the moon climbed into the sky. Raurri occasionally called out a direction, and Xero tried as best he could to steer the ungainly craft left or right. Beneath them, the brown river flowed on tirelessly, past clumps of blackness that marked islands and banks, and half a dozen distant campfires.

It was nearly midnight, with the moon high above and a clear stretch of river ahead, when Raurri's voice spoke in the dark. "What's that on your face?"

"My face?" Xero let go of the heavy steering pole with one hand and brought it up to touch his skin. Besides the roughness where he was scabbed from his fall over the cliff edge -- had it only been two and a half days ago? -- it felt normal. As he lowered his hand, he noticed a gleam on the back.

"There are silver marks on it. Where your fingers just were."

He felt again, returning to the scabs. "Here?" He'd had a cut on the back of his hand too, he recalled.

She nodded. Her eyes were glowing in the dark. "Is Domer blood silver?" He heard the sarcasm as clearly as if he could see her face.

"I should say it is, just so you'll keep me alive." He grinned. His skin felt hard around the scabs, but he ignored it. "An endless supply of silver. Although I might make you work for it."

"I imagine you would." There was a purr in her voice. Against the dark night sky, her form moved, rising, then sat back suddenly. A pitiful hiss escaped from her.

"Raurri?" He started forward, then stopped and laid the steering pole carefully on the bottom of the barge. "Raurri?"

She was curled up in the bow, hands gripping at her leg. "I'm alright."

"No you're not!" He knelt down, ignoring the curses she spat at him. "Let me look."

Reluctantly she drew her hands away so he could see. Not that much was visible: dark fur with a darker patch that glistened damply.

"I thought you said you healed fast. This wound is still open."

"Must have become infected," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Back in the swamp."

He leaned down until his nose was almost touching her leg. "Phew! It smells rotten! Have you cleaned it?"

"You don't smell of dawnflowers yourself, you know." She bared her teeth. "Of course I cleaned it. With water, with alcohol, with my spit. I know how to look after myself."

He couldn't deny that, though he wasn't sure she'd manage now. In the end he convinced her to join him in the stern of the barge. Leaning heavily on his shoulder she managed to hobble around the bales piled up in the middle, then collapsed onto the bench. A low, angry purr came from deep in her throat.

Xero wrapped a blanket around her and sat beside her. The current was swift enough that the steering oar didn't need to be far in the water, so he stuck it under his arm and let the end trail behind them.

Raurri's body felt hot, with the occasional shiver running through her. He put his free arm around her, and she snuggled close.

"Tell me about life in the Dome."

He glanced down at her, surprised at her question. Then he realised that in all their days together he'd never spoken of the time before his exile. He'd been caught up in events. First in the joy of being alive and carnal thoughts of Raurri, then in the shock of falling from the cliff and the...

whatever

... that lived inside the metal box, and finally in the cat-woman's disappearance and rescue.

I've barely even thought about it.

Thoughts of his mother, questions about the defence system, but not about actually living there.

"It's... different." He sighed. "But I suppose you could have guessed that. It's much smaller, for a start. The arc of the Dome is everywhere, and it changes colour as the sun moves. There are parks, with trees and gardens, where people walk or play or just sit. And we travel from one side to another on long carrier belts, or we race uniblades..."

He realised that Raurri probably didn't understand half of what he was talking about, but he was unable to stop.

"I lived with my mother at the top of a tall building, with views all around. She's a Senior Councillor, one of the three most important people inside the Dome. She makes decisions--" He broke off as questions intruded about Mother, then carried on. "If we want to eat or drink we just press a button on a machine in our house. When we're tired of our clothes we recycle them into something new." Mostly overalls, true, but sometimes they wore fancier outfits.

He continued, telling of his friends and their games, and of venturing out into the Wilds, and how disappointed his mother was. "She kept telling me I could be a leader, follow her into politics. But why should I? I'd rather do... I don't know. Something more active." He sighed, then grinned. "Not that it matters now. Even if I make it back, no-one's going to put me in charge."

A soft snore startled him. Raurri had fallen asleep -- had been asleep for some time, he realised now. For a moment he felt foolish that he'd kept talking, but then he decided he didn't care. It was nice to revisit those memories from what seemed a lifetime ago.

But his concern now had to be for his friend. Even asleep, she was in pain. Her lips drew back and she growled, then gave a hiss. Her skin felt hot to the touch.

He closed his eyes, trying to think. Sleep probed at the edge of his mind, though, and he had to force himself not to drift.

There has to be something we can do! Something someone can do!

But who was there out here, besides the boaters?

In his mind he saw again the spots of light all over the world, a vast and brilliant network of points all connected somehow. He could make out Annon. Somehow that single dot of light was recognisable as the man he'd met in Ro-Gara's camp.

Annon? Can you hear me?

He almost felt foolish, but who'd ever know?

Annon?

Even half-hoping, half-expecting, he was shocked by the response. The other man's voice came back as a near-silent scream.

Not so loud! Fuck it, you fucker, must you roar like that?

Annon's own voice was barely audible.

Xero tried to think quieter.

Sorry! Is this better?

Still too loud! Fuck, my head. It was still hurting from the last time.

Xero modulated his mental voice to the quietest whisper he could manage, just the flimsiest trickle of thought.

This is Xero. We met--

I know who you are, you idiot. Where are you?

Feeling foolish, Xero replied,

With Raurri, in the lowlands. We stole a boat and we're following the river downstream. We were cut off from Ro-Gara and had--

So she thought. She made it back to the camp this evening. She still wants to talk to you.

We've no way of turning around. And Raurri's hurt. She's wounded, and it's turned sour. Do you know what to do?

Xero detected a note of desperation in his mental voice.

Sorry kid. If the trader doesn't know, there's nothing I can do from here. Fuck, my head. Just how strong are you, shouting at me across that distance?

Strong? I just tried to talk to you in my mind. You're talking back. Is that unusual?

Annon was silent for a moment before replying.

I've never heard of a sender who could contact another from so far away. And so effortlessly, too. Never mind Ro-Gara, when you get back I want a go at you first!

Somehow his thoughts conveyed a more physical encounter than questions or talk.

I inhaled a strange mist a few days ago. Was that--?

How the fuck should I know? Could be. Could be something you ate inside the Dome. I don't really care. My head's killing me, thanks to your friendly greeting and having to reach you so far away. So go away and let me get back to sleep.

Again, I'm sorry--

began Xero, but whatever connection there had been was cut off. It was as if Annon had blocked his mind, shut a door on their conversation. It seemed like a flimsy door, one that a strong blow might shatter. It was tempting, but the plainsman had seemed in genuine discomfort.

"Sorry," Xero murmured aloud, opening his eyes. For a moment he felt guilty, then realisation struck him. "I spoke to him, with my mind. From leagues away!"

Raurri stirred against him and gave a whimper. Xero patted her shoulder and forced himself to calm down. Inside, though, he was trembling with excitement.

I wonder what else I can do?

Could he reach his mother? He closed his eyes again and cast his mind around. The sea of light reappeared, and now he took his time to explore it.

He could sense people, animals, insects. Some shone brighter than others -- one cliffhanger was nearly as bright as Annon, for instance, but most humans were mere pinpricks. Yet there seemed to be a blanket over a large area.

The Dome.

Xero could feel the ring of stars that stood watch over the Dome, shining even brighter than Annon and some other men and women, but strange, mechanical. He didn't reach out to them.

Even so, it was clear that it was the ring that was blocking his contact with the Dome. Somehow it created a block, like the door that Annon had put up but stronger, more like a wall of opaque glass that he couldn't penetrate even if he smashed it with all his strength.

After a while he gave up, both exhilarated and frustrated. It was as if a world had opened up before him, while denying him what he wanted most. A way to contact his mother, and the means to heal Raurri.

A sudden yawn reminded him how tired he was. There was no way he would stay awake all night by himself. Besides, he thought, if he landed the barge he might be able to build a fire. A bit of warmth would do Raurri a world of good.

His eyes weren't as good in the night as the cat-woman's, but with the silver moon shining on the river he managed to make out several darker spots in the blackness. They hadn't passed any campfires for a long time, so one of these islands was as good as any.

Using the steering pole to guide the craft, he aimed for the nearest. The current was too swift, however, and they were past before he came close. The next island also disappeared behind them, but by the time they reached the third he succeeded in manoeuvring alongside.

He approached at an angle, letting the barge slide up the mud of the bank until they stuck fast. Raurri gave a quiet whimper in her sleep as they juddered to a halt, but didn't wake.

Groping around in the dark, Xero found a rope in the bow that Raurri had pointed out to him earlier, and sprang onto the bank to tie it to a tree. The barge seemed to be safely stuck in the mud, but he wasn't going to leave anything to chance. He didn't want it to slip away while they slept -- or worse, with Raurri on board while he built a fire.

The moon was still high by the time he had a small fire going in a hollow, surrounded by leafy trees. Something rustled in the branches overhead, then was silent. Xero remembered the bird-killing beetle at the base of the escarpment and shuddered. But there was nothing he could do now, except hope that the fire kept the worst dangers away.

Raurri had woken briefly when he carried her ashore, muttered something he didn't hear, then curled up by an old stump and fallen asleep again.

The wound stank even worse than before. It was the stench of death. The cat-woman was shivering, despite the dry heat of her skin. She'd refused to drink, baring her teeth in a half-hearted snarl when he tried to force her. Feeling helpless, he gave up and sat down beside her, pulling a second blanket over them both.

The warmth and the flickering flames had a hypnotic effect, and soon his eyelids were drooping. Try as he might, he was unable to fight off sleep for long.

He's suspended in the air above the little camp. The campfire casts a red glow over the face of the Xero sitting below him. It also picks out three silver patches that seem to shimmer with a bluish light of their own.

The curled form of the cat-woman under the blankets looks small, fragile. From up here, objectively, he can tell she's losing the fight.

It doesn't seem fair. She's dying because she rescued him. Perhaps not directly, but if he hadn't climbed into her rock refuge high up in the wasteland she wouldn't be down here in this infested swamp.

It's his fault, and he can't do anything. He wants to reach inside her and draw the poison from her blood, kill whatever it is that's killing her, make her whole--

To his surprise thin silver tendrils emerge from his fingers -- the fingers of the Xero floating in the air, not the Xero sleeping below -- and seek out the blanket. He's aware of them, and he's part of them, and as they pass through the blankets he's there with them as they find Raurri's wound.

The stink is almost unbearable. The blood is dark, almost black, and as the silver tendrils sink deeper he sees black worms swimming around him. They eat flesh and suck up blood, and grow longer and longer, until they split in two and both worms go their separate ways.

Filthy creatures! he wants to scream, but no sound comes out. Go away, and let my friend live!

They ignore him though, so he reaches out with a tendril to chase the closest away. The thin cord of silver flicks at the black thing, which flinches, then continues eating.

Encouraged, Xero tries it again, with more force, more anger. This time the tendril is thicker, brighter, and when it touches the worm it emits a blue spark. When the spark vanishes, the worm is gone too.

Fucker! Xero screams silently. Again he lashes out, and another worm disappears in a bright flash.

More tendrils appear around him, zapping black invaders left and right. The worms don't seem to care, oblivious to everything but eating flesh, drinking blood and multiplying.

It's slow going, and tiring. Xero glides through Raurri's wound, killing worms as he goes, but there are more everywhere, always more, too many.

I won't give up! he cries. This is my friend! This is my fault!

Reaching deep inside himself, he seeks out a reserve of energy, a small knot fuelled by despair and anger and loneliness, and by hope and happiness and love, and it explodes from him like a star, sending sparks of thread out to hunt for worms like a school of ravenous silver fish.

From above, from outside Raurri's wound, he sees the cat-woman thrash around, kicking off the blankets and whimpering, snarling. Blue lightning dances over her wound, matched by a blue glow from the marks on sleeping Xero's face.

Almost he feels his last reservoir of strength failing, but the worms are vanishing, exploding by the dozen, by the score, by the hundred, in bright flashes of energy. Red blood surges around him, pumping rhythmically, surrounding the worms that escape his anger, cleansing the wound of the stink of death.

Exhausted, he realises his work is done. Some worms remain, but they vanish under the onslaught of Raurri's bright red blood. Her body healing itself, finally, repelling the insidious filth that was killing her.

With a sigh that's more mental than physical, Xero retreats into his own suspended body, still hanging above the camp, and watches as the cat-woman settles down again and gives a soft snore. Beside her, Xero's sleeping body slumps over. The marks on his face and hand have turned a dull, leaden grey.

*

It was clear from Annon's face that the man didn't want to be there. Probably didn't want to be out of his tent, or even out of his bed. He squinted through slit eyes, and he moved with that deliberate way of someone who'd drunk too much firemilk the night before.

The fact that he was here, outside Ro-Gara's tent, with the sun barely peeping over the horizon, meant that it was urgent. Senders tended not to contact each other at night unless their news was urgent.

Ro-Gara herself wasn't feeling much better than Annon looked. She'd had her first good night's sleep in what felt like a moon, but her entire body was stiff. Her little adventure with the Domer had been short but strenuous, both physically and mentally.

Before her sender could speak, she gestured to one of the fires, where a pot was waiting, tempting her with rich, meaty smells. "Talk while we eat."

Annon followed her and sat down beside her, but didn't help himself to the stew. "The Domer," he began, then fell silent.

"What of him?" Ro-Gara put off caring too much about what the news would be.

Let me warm up first.

"The fucker woke me in the night. Screaming in my head, like he was hitting me with a mallet with every word." He closed his eyes and swallowed. "I managed to get him to be quieter, but even that was bad."

"He's alive then."

"Says he and the trader got cut off from you, and they're headed downstream on a boaters' barge." He rubbed the bridge of his nose before continuing. "And he's worried about the cat-woman's wound. Seems like that was why he reached out."

Ro-Gara chewed slowly. "So it's unlikely they'll be back. If I'm going to get the information he promised me, you'll have to send to him."

"Fuck o-- ah!" Annon winced and clutched at his head. He rocked back and forth a few times before continuing. "Not a chance, boss. Too far away. And I've blocked him. He could probably blast through if he tried, but I'm hoping he has some manners. No!" He forestalled her attempt to interrupt. "It's too exhausting even if he makes contact. You think this was from spending the whole night whispering love songs to each other? Less than a minute we sent, less than a minute!"

She remained silent. Eventually he rose gingerly, still squinting against the early morning light. "I'm going to my tent. No-one wake me for a week or so."