Star’s Tempest- Episode 56

Back to Episode 55

---

Episode 56

I drop deep into the planet; earth presses in on me, darkness claims me, and instantly claustrophobia takes over—I frantically shove aside the earth as it closes in on my face, terrified I will suffocate. The vines still pull me downward—ten feet, twenty feet, fifty feet. I could never climb out alone. If this fails in some way, I am dead.

Deeper, deeper still—I am torn through earth and stones and roots—abruptly I come to a stop, encased in earth—the vines unwrap and slither away. I turn my face upwards, toward the loosest earth; I can’t raise my arms to shove the dirt away from my nose and mouth—

All is dark—I am going to suffocate and die—

But then the part of me that is shrilly screaming in terror recedes to the far distance, and calm takes its place. All is as it should be. I am resting in the earth, as I should, as I must, in the place far beneath the surface, the place that is home to my allies.

My body relaxes.

They come teeming but gently, entering my body through eyes and nose and ears and mouth, even through the pores on my skin. They are so tiny surely I cannot feel them so much as sense them as they take up residence inside me.

My body does not resist; it feels drugged, stupefied. Even as my eyes search for any point of light above me, my eyelids close.

They enter me and worlds of consciousness open up to me like flowers opening to the sun. Awareness blossoms. I sense my brethren across this dark half of the planet and how they dwell within so many other species—they are parasites, hive-minded, dominating the others, adapting rapidly in order to survive.

Their drive for dominion awakens the same hunger in me. I want the certainty that comes with control, and if it is cruel, so be it. We cannot always choose these things.

My will aligns with theirs, with Prospero’s. And the part of me that is still Miranda is shoved far back, her voice quieter now than any of the other presences that crowd my mind.

Prospero speaks in my mind, well pleased. “Welcome, Daughter,” he says. “We shall do so much together.”

Earth scrapes past my body and I am pulled out into the open again. Ariel holds me a few feet away, looking into my eyes. This time I can read his expression: it is sorrow. Only Miranda can understand anything about why. I don’t understand it at all.

Ariel releases me and I go to Prospero; he isn’t far. He embraces me and pats my cheek, while Miranda recoils in anger and horror. Antonio is there, too. He is not fully an ally yet, he is possessed in only some small measure, but he chose to go to Prospero, and I welcome him for that reason.

Miranda, however, wants to punch him in the face.

“The others are on their way,” I say. I know this because of my shared awareness with my friends and allies spread across this dark side of the planet. The other colonists have decided to come to me, in hopes of fighting alongside me, against Prospero. They will be bitterly disappointed.

We wait for them, listening to the song of the planet, to the chirps and clicks and cracks and sometimes a shrill howl or jagged cry. I am restless with the need to assert control, to make things mine.

I find myself in the head of some bug as it hunts, and I lend myself to its fight and join in its satisfaction as it rips open the victim’s carapace and eats its flesh. I join into all the battles, all the feasts, happening simultaneously across the surface of the planet. Exhilaration claims me.

The jungle parts before us; my friends stand before us, escorted by Trees, who have done as Prospero himself commanded and brought them here. Their lights are off. They look terrified and despairing.

All except Bandecca, who looks furious and rebellious. She pulls a Sticker blade from her belt and raises it high and charges at Prospero, yelling.

The rest of them pull out their own Sticker blades and polymer knives and rush at Prospero or the nearest bugs. Blades slash through bug joints and into underbellies, and bug juices spew. Claws land on Ladybug suits but do not slash it; mandibles close on limbs but cannot break through.

I find myself tilting my head and listening in exactly the same posture as Prospero. I listen while he calls to the allies who already dwell in some small measure within Ferdinand, Domenico, and Caliban; he tells them to halt, and the three of them stop attacking, their faces slack, their eyes empty.

Miranda cries out in protest.

Prospero has no direct power over Bandecca, Cristina, Gostanza, Cristoforo, or Matteo, for they have not had enough exposure.

Perhaps now he will correct that.

No, Miranda begs.

He tells the Trees to send out their whip-like branches, to grasp but not to injure. Soon all the others are immobilized, helpless, panting and exhausted from fighting.

The bugs and plants close in. I can feel their hunger. But Prospero himself will not let them feed. Not yet.

I walk among them, studying them—Cristoforo’s stoic expression, Gostanza’s tears, Ferdinand’s empty stare.

“You are foolish to resist,” Prospero himself says to them. “Antonio came to me, begged my forgiveness for his wrongs to me and Miranda—and I have forgiven him. Am I not just?”

No one responds.

He gestures to me. “Miranda came to me. She sees my vision, and she has embraced it.” His eyes glitter. “So will you all. And I will rule you fairly, and kindly, once you stop resisting.”

Miranda weeps.

My allies ask me in the slightest whisper, “Is this your will?”

The question sparks in me like electricity. The question is not for Prospero, but for me. No, not for me—for Miranda. And the asking opens the slightest passage between Miranda and me.

Miranda forcefully cries, “No! I do not want this.”

She’s confused because she’s been assuming that Prospero and the alien life of this planet are unified in their desires.

But some of my allies turn away from Prospero and toward her. “You do not seek dominion over all.”

“I don’t,” she says. “I have no desire for that. I only want us all to be safe and free.”

“We do not want to be controlled,” they answer. “We did not know he would overmaster us. We do not want the dominion he seeks.”

Miranda realizes all at once that the story Prospero told about being chosen by the planet is just that—a story. He wasn’t chosen. He asserted control. He is a tyrant and nothing more.

The hunger for dominion… the merciless drive for control… that is Prospero, not this alien species.

Miranda comes forward in my mind, until she is me and I am her and…

While Prospero gloats, paying no attention to me or us, I feel more of my allies turn toward me. Toward Miranda. I shake my head, confused, putting myself back together—myself, but with communication with millions of creatures and their permission to command them.

I lend them my will, and they pull free of Prospero.

Prospero stops abruptly, turns toward me. “Daughter.” The word is a warning. “What are you doing?”

I ask the Trees whether they are willing to take my side. Their response is a wordless chorus of joy. I give them my strength, and they pull themselves free and release control of my friends, who stagger, and some fall, and who stare about in confusion.

“Join me,” I call to thousands. “We shall overpower Prospero and be free.”

“Daughter!” Prospero says forcefully.

We release control of Ferdinand and Domenico and Caliban, and consciousness returns to their eyes.

With clicks and calls and haunting cries, the life of this planet turns its gaze upon Prospero… and begins to creep toward him.

“No!” he cries, backing away. He closes his eyes and tilts his head, and I feel his attempt to assert control over the life of the planet. He is strong—so strong—he pulls thousands back to himself, and he sets alien against alien, and the jungle around us explodes into chaos.

---

Continue to Episode 57

---

Vote on Top Web Fiction

---