Philip Palmer - Hell Ship

“Agreed. Rejuvenation of cells,” said Quipu One, “can explain the healing of most injuries; but some other force must be at work in the case of Zala.”

“Could it be,” asked Iodoy, “connected with blink technology?”

“Explain,” I asked, intrigued.

“It is possible to conjure a creature from here, to here,” clarified Quipu Two, “in the blink of an eye. Hence the phrase. My people used it as a means of conveying cargo from one planet to another. We called it ‘gapping,’ Ioday’s people called it ‘blinking.’ We and Ioday have discussed the science of it often. But such a method of transport only works if you create a perfect replica of the creature during the process; for it is information that is gapped, not matter itself.”

The silence was stony; then it yielded fruit.

“That must be it; that is the technology they are using,” I said excitedly. “For Zala ‘blinked’ away from my planet. She faded, then went. I thought of it as magic; but replication and disreality-bonding could have achieved the same effect.”

“Indeed,” added Quipu One. “When she arrived on your planet they would have had a second ‘Zala’ in storage. A perfect recording of the original creature; any mechanoid brain with sufficient data storage capacity could do that.”

“That’s how they make us cheat death! Replication, coupled with rejuvenation,” said Quipu Two. “Making us both immortal, and unkillable.”

“What about the water of the well of life?” said Ioday.

“Perhaps,” began Quipu One.

“Perhaps it contains healing particles,” Quipu Two interrupted, excitedly. “Miniature mechanoid brains, that interact with the cells of our body, using small worlds technology.”

“Our kind had that,” I admitted. “Once, our people used to die of heart attacks and alcohol poisoning, in vast numbers; but that has not been the case for many years. For at birth now, we are injected with artificial cells with micro-brains that live in our body and clean our body of toxins. In consequence,” I added proudly, “we can drink gallons of the strongest ale, and never get drunk, nor suffer any dismal pangs the following morn!”

And so it went on; I badgered these foolish beasts to think harder and longer about the powers of the creatures who built our world than they had ever done before.

The next day dawned: Day the First.

Once again, our peoples of the Hell Ship travelled their world. But this time, I asked Sai-ias to gather all the aquatics together and dive deep and plumb the depths of the lake; and then dig deep holes in the lake-bed itself to test what lay beneath.

And I asked the aerials to flock high and peck at every patch of the false sky, looking for gaps, or joins, or weaknesses.

I told Fray to smash holes in the mountains, to create caves out of sheer rock, in the hope of finding an entryway to the exterior hull by that route.

I told Quipu to analyse the soil, and examine the water from the well of life with his telescopic visions to ascertain what microbes might exist there.

Everything was recorded; written by Lardoi in blank books taken from Quipu’s library, and also memorised by Quipu’s five brains.

And Lirilla flew from place to place, carrying information, cajoling, unifying us into a single exploratory force.

Day the Second. The Temple was getting close to the sky now; but instead of demolishing it, I made the workers continue building the structure up higher, yet narrower. Until the Temple was a thin finger that reached close enough to touch the sky.

And those working on the Temple continued past the end of Day the Second, and for many cycles after; until the Tower near touched the sky.

At which point Fray clambered up the high steps and took a perch up there; and began to butt the hull-metal with her powerful horns. Relentlessly, incessantly, powerfully. It seemed to make no impression; but she continued, and continued, and I knew she would do so until I told her to stop.

And after six days, a dent in the roof of the sky was visible.

Day the Third.

As the work on the Temple continued, I began each Day the Third by making the aerials practise swooping and ripping with sharp beaks. I trained the giant sentients to charge in tight formation; I taught military tactics to the arboreals. I forced Sai-ias to prove her strength by throwing sessiles as missiles. The aquatics too were marshalled, and asked to demonstrate their predatory techniques, their killing skills. And the land predators practised their most basic survival skill; how to hunt.

Day the Fourth. A day of tales, and poetry. And on this day, each poet was asked by me to imagine a world in which all sentient beings lived in harmony, and the Ka’un were dead. And then to write their visions up into poems that would inspire us all!

Day the Fifth. Day the Sixth. Day the Seventh. Day the Eighth. Day the Ninth…

The days began to blur. Some explored, some built the Temple, some trained in warfare strategies and honed their fighting skills.

And others spent all their time discussing the science of the Ka’un and the geography of our world. Each part of the interior world was to be charted; each creature in the interior world was to prepare for what by now we all knew was inevitable: full-scale war against the Ka’un.

Thus had I turned these creatures into an army fit to vanquish the most fierce of enemies. And I had also made them think. Just as, in her own exceptional way, Sai-ias had made me think.

For I had been so very certain, for all my life, that the way of my people was the rightest and most apt way. But now I had come to doubt it all. All the values I had assumed and trusted and relied upon-I now challenged them, utterly.

War is glory? Death is the supreme achievement for a warrior? Prowess in a duel is a sign of moral superiority?

All these beliefs now seemed to me-well, fatuous really.

War may be necessary; military might may be prudent; but there really are, it now dawned on me, more important things in life.

Thus had Sai-ias taught me; for my mind too, I realised, had been cluttered with myths. Blind and foolish beliefs that could not withstand the cool stare of compassion.

In comparable fashion, the creatures on this ship assumed they knew the truth about their world; but they did not. Their assumptions were false; their beliefs were absurd.

Thus had they been, for so many years, and in every respect, the dupes of the evil Ka’un.

I had one final surprise for them.

We were sitting, a small group of us-Sai-ias, Quipu, Fray, Lirilla, Doro, and I-in the fields by the forest, in the warm sun. Doro was a shadow on the grass, we barely knew he was there. But he was always there. Fray was restless, but determined to listen to my words. Quipu was animated, gesticulating with his two hands and bobbing his five heads as he mentally wrestled with thorny problems about the physics of the Hell Ship.

I then discussed with them my various theories.

“You have told me that for many years you have believed the air translates,” I said, preparing the ground for my argument. “And it also hears every word we say.”

“Correct, that was indeed once our belief,” said Quipu Three.

“And it allows us all to breathe, though the atmospheres of our planets are very different.”

“Correct again,” Quipu One concurred.

“And the Tower is the home of the Ka’un; and the air generates light; and creatures who fall into Despair live for all eternity?”

“All fallacies, we see that now,” conceded Quipu One.

“Yet you’ve already said all this!” chided Quipu Three.

“Don’t be discourteous,” said Quipu Five, critically.

“Let the creature speak,” ordered Quipu Four.