Chapter 30: Coincidental Evolution — Part 2
The philosophy of the Pental species was based on the number five, most probably because of the structure of its brain. A Pental was at its highest mental state when its thoughts flowed evenly across five possible processes at once, this simultaneity being represented by a pentagram. Their brain was split along five distinct sectors, each specialized for specific types of neurological tasking. A spiritual master of the Pental logic was given the title of Star. Rhombus was but one step from becoming a Star. Point, Line, Triangle, Square, and Pentagram all denoted intelligence and position in the Pental society. Lines in a shape of equal proportion implied a perfect understanding of logic within the confines of that shape, and implied an ability to learn new logical patterns.
Differing angles suggested what could be considered creativity or intuition: By the standards of his species, the ability of Rhombus to break away from logic and make intuitive leaps was strong. Clearing his mind of the complexities of Pental logic, North wondered how long the storm would last. Sleep overwhelmed him. Stripped of his thoughts, with only the Pental’s rhythmic chanting to influence him, North fell from sleep into a trance, and found himself in an argument with a terribly old man, a man who seemed bent on teaching him either pain or retribution.
The drug again? He wondered.
No, Rhombus answered, a part of his dream. The planet holds you in its grip. You’re safe from the others, and the storm, but there are those who are much disgusted with you, all things considered. The old man is a reflection from another time, and he is, from what I can sense, as angry with you as can be humanly expressed without violence.
Rhombus’ thoughts merged with his, the clarity of alien logic making his perceptions far more focused. Vodia, alive and awake because of the symbiont, spoke to him of change, and he embraced the change, both within himself and within the universe around him. North woke up from his trance, sitting up and staring into the storm. For the briefest moment, the lightning cast a fiery reflection in his eyes. The storm was no danger to him now. It would pass, allowing himself and Pental to leave the storm side of Vodia, and to return, in time, to space. The Pental, working with him, would rewrite history. The principle of service would allow North what he cherished most, a sense of self-identity. He would have no further need for mantras. The angry old man, North realized, was more accurately a disengaged part of himself, a part of himself he had never allowed full and open expression.
It is time to be of service. His thoughts focused on Rhombus.
I have been waiting for this time. Rhombus replied, indefatigable and calm.
Seva studied Charles, wondering what thoughts were going through his often-private mind. Charles sniffed the air suspiciously; his senses finely attuned to danger — more so than anybody else on the crew. Vertigo could feel it in her skin long before she could hear it: Her eyes scanning the sky only once she could discern some sense of direction for the deep throbbing sound. The four of them had grown used to the routine of Earth. Anything out of the ordinary tended to set them off: Twigs snapping might warn of approaching enemies, human or otherwise; storms often gave them but a few minutes warning to take cover before the gale. The distant pulse that slowly built to a low reverberating hum started to sound out from a specific direction, and from that sense of direction, Charles first interpreted a sense of source. The hum could have been any number of things, all of which were immense, powerful, and in some cases quite dangerous.
Jonathan was the first to verbally identify the sound. “Those are ship’s engines. But from where?”
Night had settled on the edge of the wasteland. The threat Charles sensed couldn’t possibly have come from Earth’s forests, as mutated as they had become. The threat wasn’t from Earth, but from space, and as that threat entered upper atmosphere, its vibration shook the air. Three bright lights cut a path across the sky. Vertigo and Jonathan hovered in the air; their feet near Seva’s eye level. The crew studied the lights cautiously, all of them wary of the origination of the ships. Though the ships hadn’t noticed them, they seemed to be scouting the land, and had probably orbited several times before deciding on a point of entry into atmosphere.
