Calan - The Immortality Paradox

Chapter Three: The Leonian Calanite, Part Four

'Underground tunnels is what he said. It must be from the mining era. See if someone can follow their route; there must be some direct connection to the Cercle.'

'I'll see what I can do, Professor, but the lower levels are like a labyrinth.'

'Just see what you can do, Gregon. I don't want that gargoyle coming back to haunt us. Not without us knowing, at least.'

Professor Steale and his head of communications were standing on the threshold of the communication booth. It was a compact bunker adjacent to the battery storage. Against one wall was a display screen, flickering between white and black as they spoke, and a plethora of wires emerged from it like a gathering of snakes and coiled around the booth, exiting through a ceiling vent. A row of shelving supported stacks of digital files marked hastily with handwritten labels.

'Give me an hour,' said Kalet before Gregon departed.

The Professor squeezed into a worn chair among the mass of coiling wires. The only light was a dull, circular filament above. He felt the heat of the power emanating from the old machinery. None of it had been replaced since the Astronomy Base had been established in OA19,630. If Drindlock kept his promise, it would die with the facility.

A feeble red light flashed from the dashboard of controls. Flicking a switch nearby, the screen transformed. The familiar form of Llywydd Cyson Tywysydd appeared.

Many feared the Calan appearance, calling it repulsive, incomprehensible or eerie. The Professor, however, saw only Gods in physical form. The Llywydd was even more exceptional. Their body was an intricate weave of silicate matter, twisting, coalescing like the complicated tidal waves of the White North Sea. A midnight-blue epidermis for flesh. There was no humanoid head, an egg-shaped encephalon chamber with two conic protrusions the Calan referred to as Coronwraidd. In their exalted presence, the Professor had witnessed these Coronwraidd take many shapes, but he had seen enough to know that the Llywydd needed urgent rejuvenation. The horns showed signs of age, the silicate breaking away like shards of ice. Immortal they may be, but energy was not an inexhaustible commodity.

'Cymydog. Kalet.' It was not a voice. The Professor received the meaning as a vibration in his head. A queer sensation that had terrified him on the first encounter. By now, it was simply another language. Calonlais. Quantum-entangled particles translated into waveform perturbations. Science made music. 'As you are aware, the Calan do not interfere in matters of Humanity unless our territory or existence is threatened. Although, dear friend, I know that your pioneering technology has been attacked.' Kalet did not doubt that the Calan would already be aware of unfolding events. Observing everything, as Calan nature intended. 'The information I give you now is sensitive and may have political consequences.

'The Anianwyr have informed me that your satellite was irradiated with carefully-curated electromagnetic waves, directly destabilising its geostationary orbit. The precision of the impact could not constitute an accident. This act was intentional. The signal's origin is traced back to Kingdom, from a planet within Swindelhurst authority. We do not posit conjecture without evidence, so I cannot provide more context, but I consider this provocation a prelude to something more. I apologise that I cannot benefit more in these matters, but if you decide to take this information further, I urge caution. You are not without experience in the matters of diplomacy and tact. Any minor accusation has severed alliances in the past. A lack of trust is inherent in all of you, one of many mysteries the Calan have never fathomed about your species.

The Scorpius Chapter had never been a friend of Leonians - two Mining Wars and a vacuum of corpses proved that. It was not beyond imagination that animosity would still linger among the Swindlehurst family; however, knocking satellites out of orbit was a strange choice of provocation. Especially as Scorpion technology far-surpassed anything created on E'blanche. If they were genuinely inclined, the Swindlehursts had the potential to wipe them from existence.

In addition to this warning, Cymydog, I must ask you something. A delicate matter. I require your assistance.

Never had a Calan composed those words before. Not in Kalet's lifetime, at least, and he had recently turned sixty-six. The Professor had mixed emotions, pride in that he could serve his Gods, and yet a daunting heaviness lingered there, too. What would an immortal being ask of a simple, fragile Human?

Like many Humans before, you have been welcomed into our society and customs to follow and adhere to our principles. Peace. Cultivation. Enlightenment. Tenets of the Calan. These are not mere rules; they are the nature of our existence. Our impetus. When you came to Sylfaenydd for the first time, into Hafan, and immersed yourself in our history, you became a part of us. A Human you remain - that did not change - but you are now a Human with Calan insight. An appreciation for the Universe of which few have conceived. I am now asking you to honour your friendship.

The Incubus has threatened Humanity, and its mystery is far from solved. Despite our best efforts, Cangen Seryddiaeth has been unable to comprehend its origin. The object is as much inexplicable to us as it is to you. For the benefit of all species, it is justifiable for Calan to conduct close proximity investigations to better understand its nature. But as the object is beyond our system and has not aggravated us directly, we must only perform analysis with agreement from the Aquila Chapter or all Chapters of Humanity.

In conclusion, I have agreed with the United Systems Senate to host a summit of leaders to debate the possibility of temporarily rescinding the Calan Recall Act, such that we may be involved in the investigation. You may already consider this a foolhardy endeavour, Cymydog, but my intention is to remind Humanity that we are not just bystanders to the Universe; we sometimes wish to - and can - help. We have the best potential to repair the damage caused by this unexplained phenomenon. The sentiment was an alluring one. Reversing the Disappearing and returning all those lost loved ones back to reality. Perhaps even Captain Lawrence. But something - the sceptical, scientific part of his mind - told the Professor that this miracle was beyond the Calan. The Gathering, as I have called it, will be held in two years in Castell, a new space station in wider orbit of Arena. The Senate has already begun inviting the appropriate dignitaries, including the E'blanche government. I hope all Chapters will be able to attend. I know your aversion to political environments, but the Calan need you, Cymydog. To make any overtures in tackling the Incubus, we need the advocacy of civilisations such as the Leonis Chapter's.

We would only ask you this if it was completely necessary. This is a complex request. But your influence will assist in swaying the Leonians to our side. If Humanity allows us to protect them, we will strive. That has always been our promise. The Gathering is an opportunity to rekindle the alliance that we once had but with a mutual understanding.

We are forever grateful for your belief, Cymydog. Goleuni Tanwen.

The reverberations ceased, and what had been a tirade of information now settled in the Professor's mind like the wreckage of a sea storm.

That was not the message he had expected. Thoughts raced through his head, unruly and unhelpful. All this time he had spent revering the Calan, he did not believe he would become an instrument in their strategy. A puppet to play politics. In a summit of all Human Chapters. It was so far out of his comfort zone he would need a rope to tie around his waist to haul him back to safety.

Suddenly, his satellite predicament seemed tiny compared to the Llywydd's grander request. Swaying the Leonians to our side. With Drindlock in power, that proposition appeared unattainable. There were some friends, such as Sir Elis, but the vast majority ignored Professor Steale and his Calanite ways for fear of contagion. His capabilities as a scientist were the only things that maintained his influence. And it was all crumbling around him.

Perhaps it was all planned. Targeting his entire livelihood until there was nothing left. Like some cruel punishment for deigning to support immortal beings. That would explain it all. He would expect nothing less from the new Administrator.

As the Professor deactivated the communicator, the image of a child flashed in his mind's eye. Syd, the happy and curious adolescent, holding his hand and asking him the most outlandish of questions. As any child should. If anything could bring him back, it was the Calan. That had always been his opinion.

Whispering under his breath, Kalet convinced himself. 'Whatever it takes, I will serve, Cymydog.'