Thunderhead

8

Crouched in his fitted acceleration cradle aboard the Djann vessel, the One-Who-Commands studied the motion of the charged molecules in the sensory tank before him.

“Now the death-watcher dispatches his messengers,” he communed with the three link brothers who formed the Chosen Crew. “Now is the hour of the testing of Djann.”

“Profound is the rhythm of our epic,” the One-Who-Records sang out. “We are the chosen-to-be-heroic, and in our tiny cargo, Djann lives still, his future glory inherent in the convoluted spores!”

“It was a grave risk to put the destiny of Djann at hazard in this wild gamble,” the One-Who-Refutes reminded his link brothers. “If we fail, the generations yet unborn will slumber on in darkness or perish in ice or fire.”

“Yet if we succeed—if the New Thing we have learned serves well its function—then will Djann live anew!”

“Now the death messengers of the water beings approach,” the One-Who-Commands pointed out. “Link well, brothers! The energy aggregate waits for our directing impulse! Now we burn away the dross of illusion from the hypotheses of the theorists in the harsh crucible of reality!”

“In such a fire, the flame of Djann coruscates in unparalleled glory!” the One-Who-Records exulted. “Time has ordained this conjunction to try the timbre of our souls!”

“Then channel your trained faculties, brothers.” The One-Who-Commands gathered his forces, feeling out delicately to the ravening nexus of latent energy contained in the thought shell poised at the center of the stressed-space field enclosing the fleeing vessel. “Hold the sacred fire, sucked from the living bodies of a million of our fellows,” he exhorted. “Shape it, and hurl it in well-directed bolts at the death-bringers, for the future and glory of Djann!”