Chosen (29 page)

Ted did not shatter his hopes. The chances of any of the Chosen ever setting foot on their home worlds again were slim at best.
There is
always
a chance.

Ted was excited and apprehensive.
I am going home.
The Guardians were told that upon their arrival on Gentra, they would be reunited with their families. He hoped his parents were still alive. Time did not pass the same from one planet to another. He could go home to find only a few seasons has passed, or several hundred. It was this uncertainty that kept him from getting his hopes up too high. His parents and all of his littermates might well be gone.
Hopefully time has passed slowly and the Masters are still alive.
He knew that it didn't really matter if the Masters that had sent him off still lived; their replacements would have been appraised of the situation and would know what to do.

“I will go through first. The rest of you must come after, allowing a few moments in between. Right before you enter the portal, you must activate it by touching this symbol.” He showed them the Gentran symbol again. “Each of you needs to touch the symbol before entering. Understood?” He met their eyes. “Much of what I have told you is incomprehensible. I know you are tired and hungry. I wish I had the time to explain things further.

“Unfortunately, time is a luxury we do not have. Every day brings the Mekans closer to Earth and all of the other worlds in the galaxy. We must act fast if we are to stand a chance at stopping the enemy.”

Forka had said all he needed to say. He turned and faced the portal and reached up with a trembling hand to activate the symbol for home. He took a deep breath and stepped into the portal.

G
ENTRA

Forka burst into a large chamber. The room was dark; the glow rods hanging from the ceiling were not lit. He took a deep breath, trying to ease the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. The exhaled breath coming out of his siphon that hung down his back rippled the water behind him.

I am home.
Forka flexed his bell-like gelatinous body, which was yellow with light green patches. He shot forward. His large, violet eyes had already adjusted to the darkness. He delighted at being back in his natural form, reveling in the quick way he moved. The warm water felt like a lover's caress, flowing over his body and arms sensuously. He made his way to the wall opposite the portal and activated the glow rods. Their pale, white light chased away the shadows.

Forka spun quickly as he heard one of the Chosen emerge. He swam over, grabbing it by the face with two of his four hands, forcing the newly formed Gentran to meet his eyes. The newly arrived Chosen's eyes were wide, filled with panic. On Earth, breathing water meant certain death. Forka signaled opening his mouth and inhaling. The Chosen shook its head—
his
head, Forka noticed—too frightened to breathe, every instinct telling him to hold his breath.

Forka held the Chosen's head in a firm grip. He inhaled again and turned slightly, so that the frightened Chosen could see the water rippling out of the siphon. A small flicker of understanding
flashed in his violet eyes. He took a deep breath and in a few short minutes figured out how to pass the water over his gills and out through the siphon.

A second Chosen emerged from the portal and began thrashing so violently that Forka feared he would injure himself. Forka and the first Chosen to appear grabbed the new Chosen and prompted him to take in the water.

Forka stared hard at the second Chosen. His body was bright yellow, slashed with bright green. His facial features were chiseled, more so compared to any other Gentran Forka had seen.

I wonder if this is Sloan.
Forka gazed at the first Chosen, trying to decide who he was by the features. His body was aqua with streaks of blue. Besides being male, he had no idea who he was. It could be Robert, Brent, or Brad, or Mark; there was no way to tell.

Perhaps when we are all together, I can figure out who is who.
He and the two Chosen aided the others as they emerged, demonstrating how to breathe.

Forka motioned them all closer. He gazed at the six Chosen suspended in the water before him. They had a difficult time maintaining their positions in the water; some crept higher or lower, both sets of arms flailing as they began to fall forward or backward. It was quite comical. The Chosen had to learn how to use the currents to move and stay afloat, rather than fight against them. Forka moved among the new Gentrans, indicating with demonstrations and actual moving of the Chosen's bodies and arms, how to float and swim. It was very difficult to do without the ability to speak to one another. The Chosen would let out a squawk or a squeak or several other trills and bleats as they practiced their swimming. The sounds were meaningless, though every now and again, one would come out with an actual word, quite by accident. He had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. He imagined that he had looked no less ridiculous when he had first emerged from the portal and onto dry ground on Earth.

The only female Gentran, obviously Martha, seemed to be picking up the basic idea of staying afloat better than the others. Her body was a mixture of pink and purple, streaked through with deep, dark purple, and ending in a long, flowing train.

Forka found himself looking hard at the Chosen with a body the color of fire. It was orange, streaked with red. His siphon was much longer than any of the others.
Could this be Brad Phillips?
He could almost see the resemblance in the facial features as well.
Perhaps Brad's long hair has been changed into a long siphon.
He looked at the others, trying to find familiar features in the faces before him.

One of the Chosen, light blue body with streaks of deep turquoise, had a long, lean face. This was most likely Mark Vincent. Forka spotted one with a pink and fuchsia body sporting only three arms.
How does the portal know which parts to leave off? Why not a part of the body, or shortened siphon?
This left the first Chosen that emerged as being Robert Marshall.

Forka motioned the Chosen to follow as he led them out of the portal chamber and out into the same hallway he had passed down, ages ago it seemed. The walls were multicolored, going from pink to purple to blue to green as the intensity of the light changed. Large, thick windows of translucent plastic polymer lined the right side of the long hall, offering a spectacular view of the Gentran world.

The Chosen floated transfixed, mouths gaping in huge grins, eyes wide with wonder. Their four hands pressed against the window, and they gazed left and right, up and down, trying to drink in all of the wondrous sites at once. The Gentran world was one of dazzling, shimmering color, and the rippling of the water as it rushed from the geothermal vents, and the graceful movements of the Gentrans swimming outside.

Forka also gazed out the window, looking upon the landscape as if he were seeing it for the first time.
I have been gone so long.
He wanted to leave this building, to dart to and fro among the vents, play with the scrago, to find out if his sires were still alive.

He beckoned to the Chosen, smiling in understanding as they reluctantly tore their gaze from the beauty before them. He swam quickly toward the doorway leading outside, pleased that the Chosen could keep up.
They are learning quickly.
The six followed their leader, all in a tight little group at the very center of the hallway, trying to gaze out the windows, at the walls and ceilings, mesmerized by the new sights. It was difficult to do such things and swim at the same time, especially since they were not adept at using their new bodies.

As they passed through the doorway, a Gentran was waiting right outside. “Hello. I am called Feska. I do not believe we have met.” The Gentran blinked his large violet eyes in puzzlement as he glanced at the seven floating before him. “This building is restricted; none but the Masters are allowed in here.” He crossed both sets of arms over his pink and purple body, which was streaked through with magenta, indicating the Gentran's mood. The chromatophores in the body responded to subtle changes in a Gentran's temper. To natives of this world, the colors of the body told more about what a fellow Gentran was feeling than the actual words they spoke, and the color changes in the pigment cells responded much more quickly than a thought could be translated and spoken. “Who are you and what you are doing here?”

“My name is Forka. I must speak with the Masters.”

“Forka? That name is new to me.”

“I have been…away.”

“Away?” Feska shook his head in puzzlement. “Strange things are happening.”

“Strange things?”

“You are not the first group of strangers to appear, claiming to have been ‘away’.”

“We must speak to the Masters. I thought to find them here.” Forka could hardly contain his excitement.
Some of the others have
arrived.

“They are in the main assembly hall, talking with the other strangers.”

“Take us.” Forka's firm tone made it clear he would brook no argument.

Feska motioned the others to follow, assuming they did not know the way to the audience chamber. While Forka had a vague idea where the building was located, he decided it would be best to keep up the charade and allow Feska to lead them. He glanced over his shoulder and called out to Feska to stop.

The dwellings and various other buildings were built around the colossal vents, hugging the curves and lines of the mountainous terrain. The material the buildings were constructed of shimmered and changed, going from pale pink to purple, to blue and pale green. The Chosen pointed to the dwellings, violet eyes wide. They swam
to a cluster of sherubite crystals and touched them, fascinated with the hexagonal surfaces and dazzling color.

One of the Chosen, the one Forka was certain was Robert Marshall, pointed to a large plankton blanket covering the gently sloping ocean floor. This particular species was bright green with edges tinged in blue. The Chosen gently touched the delicate growth. Frustration was evident in their facial expressions and body language. They longed to put names to the delightfully strange things they were seeing.

Forka noticed their escort's annoyance at the delay and cried out to them in a high pitched screech that carried through the water. The Chosen turned and reluctantly came to their Guardian and Feska, all the while pointing and gesturing. Having four arms meant that they could point in every direction at once, making it quite confusing as to what each wanted the others to look at.

The group continued on to the assembly hall the masters often used when addressing large groups. The acoustics allowed their voices to be heard clearly, even at the back of the room. The Chosen stopped several times to examine more plankton blankets, seaweed gardens, pens of scrago, and various creatures great and small roaming near the vents.

They also heard eerie and alien sounds. The deep rumbles of large mammals that swam well above the cities where the Gentrans lived. Here they fed on fish and other small animals. From every direction they could hear the squeaks, clicks, and trills of the speech of the Gentrans. The scrago also vocalized, attempting to gain the attention of passers-by, hoping for a treat or a scratch.

Forka kept the stops to a minimum, eager to reach the assembly hall and talk with the Masters and his fellow Guardians. He hoped the telepaths had already arrived.
At least then we will be able to communicate.

The group passed through the open arched doorway and into a large, round chamber with a high domed ceiling. Several hallways led off the chamber, some angling up and others leading downward. The escort chose the largest of the dozen or so halls. It angled gently upward and curved first to the left and then to the right, but always heading inward toward the vent to which the building was attached.

As the group approached the assembly hall, Forka heard voices coming from the doors, which had been left ajar. He could not make out what was said, but the voices seemed to be raised in anger. The Masters' attendants floated lazily in the hallway, paying no attention to the noise. One attendant stopped the group as they approached and demanded to know their business. When Feska told him of finding them near the restricted building, the attendant immediately shot into the assembly room. A short time later he emerged and waved the party inside.

“Forka! Is that really you?” Mirka's eyes sparkled with excitement as she swam quickly to Forka, enveloping her friend and fellow Guardian with all four arms. Her body changed color, from pale blue to dark blue, indicating her joy.

Forka spun her around, laughing and crying at the same time. He had been able to keep his feelings in check up until now. But seeing his friend, whom he had not seen for so long, brought the emotions rushing to the surface.

“Forka! It's good to see you!” Gerok shook Forka's hands after he has disentangled himself from Mirka's embrace.

“It is good to see you both.”

Their greetings were cut short by the arrival of the Masters: Ferrok, Hok, Druska, Briska, Miska, and Lerok. Ferrok, Hok, and Druska came first, as they were male. All of their bodies were a yellow-green color but that is where the similarities ended. Ferrok's was lined with dark lime green highlights, Hok's had streaks of reddish orange, and Druska's was shot through with aqua. Ferrok was the largest of the Masters, a full head taller with broader shoulders and more muscular arms. Hok always had a small smile on his face which always put others at ease. Druska, on the other hand, always wore a frown. Most took it to indicate anger, but he just thought long and hard about everything. The other Master's joked that he would debate over one single decision until it was his time to float to the surface.