Dome 6, p.25
Dome 6, page 25
Phex sighed and looked at his hand on Missit’s shoulder. Dark blue starkly contrasted to Missit’s skin. Should it not also be gold right now? He wondered why he’d been denied skinsift. Why had he not been born to a species that showed the world its colors instead of having to feel them all the time? “I read somewhere once that if you have never been loved, you do not know how to give it.”
Fandina looked odd, crests almost wilted – not sad but somehow sympathetic. “You’re a god, Phex. All you get from worshipers is love. You think you don’t return it, there under the dome?”
Phex winced, considering the congregation and its needs and the way they fed off pantheons on the dais. Thinking about the fixed, spat back out as hateful exceptions – were they manifestations of divine fear? He considered what his voice was doing to the sifters and the dome, and what the divinity was doing to the Sapiens that consumed both. Phex was pouring out love and it turned into what? A weapon of peace?
Fandina continued. “You think you don’t serve love up to your friends, your pantheon, your lover? You think Missit doesn’t feel it from you? You think he chases you without encouragement? You are the only person who can’t see it. You send out love the way you send out song, in all the colors at once.”
“I don’t feel very loving.” Was love this warmth skinsifting his veins to gold? Were all the things he was scared of losing – Missit, the divinity, his pantheon – to be treasured instead of feared? Were the things he had resisted because they were beyond his control actually instruments of his own happiness? Did they tether him home?
“Of course you don’t. Did no one tell you? Dyesi are tone-deaf. We do not really hear music, we only manifest it. Just because you know how to create a thing doesn’t mean you know how to feel it. Beauty is not in what you experience, it’s in how you impact others.”
Phex absorbed that for a moment.
Jinyesun pressed three fingers to Phex’s temple in the Dyesi caress of affection. “We, your friends, we understand little bits of what happened to you. You’ve parceled out nuggets of information about your past. We’ve talked about you and put things together. None of us really understand what it’s like to live as a refugee. But our lack of empathy doesn’t make you stunted. Whether you realize it or not, you love us, and we feel it.”
Phex frowned. Was it possible to love without realizing? Was this how friendship worked? To sing at someone’s skin until it became beautiful when he could so easily bruise instead? To catch them when they leapt, every time, in every performance, at exactly the right note, when he could so easily drop them? To hold melted gold in his arms because he knew it would not burn? Was love just trust in a different pattern?
“That is not the kind of love Missit wants from me.” Phex said, a bit unguarded, a bit too trusting.
This time, Missit didn’t mind his bluntness. “Yes, it is.”
Tyve spoke up then. “It’s still love. That your love takes physical form – don’t wince, it’s not like you two are exactly subtle – that it’s expressed one way does not diminish it or make it any less a thing of connection.”
Fandina said, “We Dyesi do not trim love to fit belief – it is the other way around.”
“But the divinity told us we couldn’t. You sifters told us to hide. And the acolytes separated us.” Missit sounded upset and tired.
“Because none of us understood.”
Evidently, Phex hadn’t really understood either. Now he realized that in avoiding connection for fear of its severing, he had hurt himself the most. He now knew one thing without question – the golden warmth was a good thing and his previous numbness was not.
Phex felt the solidity of Missit on top of him as a newly minted precious thing, no greater or lesser for its intensity then the quieter gentle weight of Jinyesun’s head on his shoulder.
Jin, who had been his first Dyesi friend. His first friend at all, really. Jin, who had joined him in the kitchen on Divinity 36 without ever intruding. Jin, who asked questions because the answers helped it better understand Phex. Jin, who handed out facts like precious gifts. Jin, who took on a foreign nickname as if it were an honor, even as the single syllable diminished it in the eyes of other Dyesi. Jin, who was no longer afraid to touch him. Jin, who had, apparently, spent a long time wanting to be cuddled and not asking for it, because of fear. Jin, who had watched Tyve and Berril and Missit crawl all over Phex and never thought a Dyesi could have the same.
Both weights, Missit’s and Jinyesun’s, were things Phex loved. People he loved. How dare Phex dishonor them by being afraid? By trying to rename it something lesser?
He said to Missit, explaining the Dyesi to someone who had lived with them many times longer and yet still didn’t understand, “The nymphs made the rules that hurt us to protect themselves – acolytes and sifters. From us. They may be older in years, but by life stage, nymphs are still children. All species in the galaxy want to protect their young.” Even though those exact regulations had driven the sifters of every pantheon into loneliness and isolation. The Dyesi too had sacrificed to become gods.
“Fandina, come here,” said Phex.
His other Dyesi flew across the room, cuddled Phex’s other side. The tiny bunk groaned under all the weight, even as Phex warmed and glowed with it. He may not be able to tell them that he loved them, but this way, they knew.
15
THE DOME IS SALVATION
Because this was the Dyesi, every tour stop meant a mandated number divisible by three. But with all the extra shows on Agatay, Phex had entirely lost track of the number of divine events they’d participated in. Asterism was informed by the acolytes the next morning that they still had one more performance in Dome 6.
Of course, Tillam wouldn’t be performing, so Asterism was trying to come up with a full set of nine songs. Twelve would be better. They had seven ready, but they would have to cover a few of Tillam’s songs to make up the full requirement. It was generally felt that would be considered gauche since Fortew had just collapsed in that very dome. When the truth of his demise came out, Asterism would suffer the flames of the forums.
It was surreal to even consider the fact that they still had to get up on that dais. When someone had died there. Not just someone – a god had died.
Yet Asterism boarded the transport shuttle like they had many times over the past few weeks, and traveled to Agatay to Dome 6 and readied themselves to perform despite all misgivings.
It did not matter to the divinity what had happened before. Today the dome must be sifted. Always the dome must be sifted.
Now they all knew why.
Now they all knew why the acolytes had insisted on the soldiers getting their own performances. Why they wanted to expose as many people on this violent planet as possible to godsong and its pacifying impact.
But something was very wrong in Dome 6 when Asterism arrived.
It had nothing to do with Fortew.
It was the result of a different kind of death.
The dome was intact, but they were told by a scraggly squad of militia that the capital had been badly bombed. The diarchs were in hiding and the standing army was in tatters. This was not because they could not fight but because they no longer had the will to do so.
The dome had done its work too well. The places on Agatay where the divinity had not yet reached had been able to take advantage of the enlightenment that exposure had engendered in those they had reached already.
Kagee was furious. He pointed his deadly hand at the three acolytes. “You changed the balance of power on my planet.”
The three Dyesi looked guilty, scared, and worried. “This was not our intent.”
Kagee growled. “I know, I know. Normally, enlightenment takes much longer. Well, not here. And we all get to witness the carnage wrought by instant pacification.”
“And we understand why it is meant to take time. It should only change Sapiens slowly. Agatay was too fast.” Calator Heshoyi was obviously upset by this lesson, but the dome’s impact was out in the world now – it could not be retracted.
“You were the ones who insisted on building Dome 6.” Kagee was worried about his people.
“But it was your diarchs who invited us,” replied the calator.
“And you liked the idea at the time, Kagee,” added Phex, not siding with the divinity, but not as firmly against it, either.
The Dyesi had no way to predict what had happened there. And Kagee had liked the idea of his people getting enlightened. Phex had seen that in his eyes. Kagee did not get to rewrite his own culpability because the outcome was undesirable.
“People have died, Phex!”
“People are always dying here, Kagee. You told us that.”
“I don’t know whether Levin and Miramo are okay!”
Ah, now they were getting to the crux of the matter. Kagee was actually worried about his loved ones.
They were inside Dome 6 but not underground and not on the dais. Just standing and looking up at the grey panels, the massive structure empty around them.
Kagee began pacing. “Gods, there’s Liera, too! She’s only a baby.”
Phex said, “We had them summon all their protan proxies. Remember? All the colorblind can still fight. They will protect your diarchs.”
“Us proxies are assassins, not soldiers.”
“You are also bodyguards. Your kind will save your diarchs, Kagee. Stop panicking, you know better.” Phex hated to be sharp at a time like this, but it was what Kagee needed. He was spiraling, and usually he was the most predictable among Phex’s pantheon and the most dependable as a result. Spiraling could not be allowed.
His high cantor swallowed audibly, deadly hands clenching and releasing at his side – flexing poisoned threat. Kagee would not admit that Phex was right, but his anger did cool, became more internally directed. “I should have known this would happen. Of course peace in one part of the planet only means vulnerability to invasion.”
Phex said, “Do we know exactly what happened?”
Bob relayed a litany of information gleaned from conversing with the small cadre of remaining military still at the dome. The few who had not fled.
In retrospect, it had been unwise to enlighten their only real defensive force. But then again, the warriors of any society were the ones who needed enlightenment the most.
Phex had no idea how converting Agatay might have been approached differently. The Dyesi had acted as per usual with a new planet. There was no point in remorse or regret. Asterism was now caught up in the middle of a civil war, allied with the country whose defenses he and his friends had destroyed with song. There was no way around it: the divinity was at fault.
The acolytes had intended to bring peace and had, instead, wrought destruction.
Phex gathered from Kagee’s accented Galactic Common that the only other occupied continent of Agatay had seized the opportunity of a capital city distracted by visiting gods to attack. They’d managed to unify several disparate factions under a rebel warlord – their initial invasion had discovered a major city unexpectedly vulnerable and oddly passive.
Now they were mobilizing an occupying force. Most of their fighting population, which on Agatay meant any capable adult, was on the move. The mountain territory held by the diarchs was considered the most desirable territory on the planet, and they intended to take it by force.
Essentially, a transition of power was now occurring.
Kagee explained and then made a decision. “I’m going to them.”
“What?” The acolytes were confused.
“To the diarchs. They’ll need every proxy they can get to keep them safe. Did you forget that’s what I originally trained for?”
“Kagee, think this through.” Tyve had also trained as a warrior once.
But Kagee was looking at Phex. “I don’t expect you to come with or to help me, of course. But I also don’t expect you to stop me.”
Phex only sighed. “Did I say I would?” He understood. Of course he did. Miramo and Levin were Kagee’s Missits. Just like Phex, Kagee had lost them for a time, only to return and find them still waiting for him. And Kagee was no refugee. He had the option to return home. So, when he finally did, and found love still waiting for him, his loyalties were bound to be divided.
Phex, facing up to the looming prospect of choosing between Missit and Asterism, felt a great kinship to Kagee. He too would eventually be compelled to make a choice.
Kagee didn’t look at the acolytes or Asterism’s sifters. Or Berril. He focused on Phex and Tyve.
“I’m going to them,” he said again, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him.
Quasilun or the bodyguards, Phex or Tyve, any of them might have physically tried to restrain him, but they weren’t going to. A few of the bodyguards looked like they wanted to, but oddly, the acolytes didn’t order Kagee stopped.
“Take a tank,” suggested Phex.
“Of course. I’m not a complete idiot.”
“Good luck.” Tyve was not giving her blessing, but she wasn’t standing in his way, either.
“Try to stay alive,” advised Phex.
“You too.” Kagee left the dome at a run. Phex wondered if his high cantor could actually drive a tank. Probably, knowing Kagee.
Phex turned to the three acolytes. They were looking to Quasilun for guidance. This was, after all, not something they’d ever had to deal with before. The protector imago was the only voice of authority they had when faced with an invasion on an alien world.
Precatio Ohongshe said, “What now, imago? I suspect there will be no performance tonight.”
“You think?” Phex huffed, imitating Dyesi laughter.
“We get out. Go back to the ship. Leave orbit immediately.”
“But Agatay will fall,” said Sacerdote Chalamee, crests back in horror.
“It will be first major failure of the divinity,” added Calator Heshoyi, and even it seemed shaken by the idea.
“And all our fault.” Precatio Ohongshe’s crests wilted – its iridescent skin was almost completely dull with depression and horror.
This was a heavy burden for a nonviolent species to bear. It was possible that the Dyesi had inadvertently destroyed an entire Sapien world. Worse, these three acolytes had spoiled a pristine record of continued expansion.
Phex watched them grapple with the consequences of one massive miscalculation.
Quasilun said again, “There is no divine fix for this situation. We must leave. Protect ourselves and Asterism.”
Phex said, “There is another solution.”
“Phex.” Tyve’s voice was full of caution.
“The enlightenment of Agatay has been almost instantaneous, correct? On the ones we managed to godfix with live colors?”
“It has.”
“So, we just have to get this invading army under a dome,” said Phex, like it was that simple.
“Impossible,” said Quasilun.
“Godfix should, theoretically, stop them in their tracks.” Phex persisted.
“Are you insane? How could we do that?”
Phex turned to the scared-looking military squad that had stayed to protect Dome 6. Their captain was standing close to the entrance, constantly checking her ident for updates. There was another woman at the back who was in possession of some ancient piece of technology called a radio. It crackled regularly with status reports from the capital.
“How much danger are we in right now?” Phex asked.
The captain clearly appreciated a question she could answer. “I doubt the dome is much at risk anymore. They’ll focus on taking out the city center. And their army is still on the approach. The mountain passes are not easy. They won’t be anywhere near here until sunset.”
“We have time?”
“You have time.”
Phex turned to his sifters. He’d been waiting to ask this, and now he had good reason. “Jinyesun, how does it work? How does skinsifting a dome have such a profound impact on Sapien psyche that it changes the personality of a generation? Putting aside why it has such a rapid effect on Agatay, please explain to me what actually happens under normal circumstances.”
The acolytes made murmurs of protest.
Phex turned to them. “To fix a thing that you broke, I must know how it worked originally.”
“We don’t know for certain.” Jin ignored the acolytes and answered Phex. They had always been close, but since yesterday, Phex felt even closer to his sifter. Asterism had become Jin’s cave now. If it came to a choice between Phex and the acolytes, he was certain Jinyesun would pick him.
Jin continued. “Research would need to be done by Sapiens on enlightened Sapiens, and the divinity has never allowed that. Missit’s parents are the closest we have ever gotten.”
Phex nodded – he’d feared as much. “Do you at least know how the dome tech and skinsift interact? What causes transmission? How does the color move from skin to dome?”
Jinyesun clicked. “You know that in the caves, cantor is used by imagoes to control large numbers of skinless and nymphs? Skinsift is a visual pheromone, a reaction to sound. The carapaces of imagoes, dead or alive, act as amplifiers. The domes rebroadcast those pheromones, brighter and more intense.”
Fandina added, “We have a vomerocular organ rather than a vomeronasal one.” It tapped at its brow ridge.
Phex had no idea what that meant but he would look it up later. “There is a kind of hormonal drug in the color and pattern itself when combined with the sound?”
“Yes.” Jinyesun’s crests puffed, pleased Phex was following the explanation. “Most Sapiens, so far as I understand, transmit pheromones as scent, but ours are a combination of visual and auditory. You know imago skin hardens as they age, reflecting sift but no longer sifting itself? It sympathetically responds to the pheromones of nymphs. Even after they have died and the imago skin hardens into a carapace, it still responds. And so we invented the domes.”
