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Authors: Unknown
the best possible hiding place. That’s where they’ve been all these years—
the true slans
!”
After being defeated in the centuries of war, the bulk of the true slans had simply vanished.
Everyone assumed that the defeated race had been wiped out, with only a few stragglers living
in fear of their lives. But in reality, they had fled to the Moon, using their knowledge and
ingenuity to tunnel deep underground. Looking at all the open craters, Jommy could barely
comprehend the scope of their vast civilization.
“They’ve been busy all this time,” Jommy said with admiration in his voice.
Warship after warship launched out of the huge crater hangars, arced gracefully around in
lunar orbit, and utterly overwhelmed the occupation force from Mars.
Several of the panicked tendrilless ships continued to fire, but their weapons had no effect
on the exotic armor of the lunar fleet. Instead of retaliating, the true slan warships simply
blocked off the invaders and prevented them from proceeding to Earth.
Joanna was both amazed and agitated. “Those slan ships can easily wipe out the tendrilless
fleet. They should remove the threat. It’s the obvious thing to do.”
“Obvious perhaps … but maybe not the correct action,” Gray said. “The true slans know
that the tendrilless are our brothers, too.”
“More like prodigal sons,” Kathleen pointed out.
The lunar warships sent out energy bursts that dampened the power fields of the invading
fleet, shutting down the tendrilless ships and deactivating their weapons. The entire invasion
force hung silent and helpless in space. To Jommy, it seemed like a patient parent dealing with
a child having a tantrum.
While the true slan ships corralled the defeated occupation fleet, several warships from the
Moon streaked off at incredible speed toward Earth. The true slans’ engines were obviously far
superior to anything the tendrilless had used.
Even before the emissaries arrived, the leader of the true slans commandeered all
transmission bands. He broadcast stern words across every radio, every communication line,
every wireless set. The words boomed out, clear and final. “We demand a cessation of all
hostilities. We will allow no more of this destructive war between tendrilless slans and humans.
We are all bound by our common humanity, regardless of our genetic differences.”
On one of the visiplates an image resolved to show a distinguished older gentleman with a
silvery gray beard, a high brow, and neat hair. He stood on the command deck of one of the
lunar warships. Distinctive tendrils were plain from the back of his neck, fine fleshy threads
that extended longer than his hair. Jommy thought he looked strangely familiar, though he was
sure he’d never seen the man before in his life.
“I have detected a clear signal transmitted from a primary slan base, and I will go there
immediately. I wish to speak to any government representatives, any leaders who have
survived this unfortunate conflict.” The man leaned forward and introduced himself. “I am
Commander Andrew Cross.”
«
^
»
While President Kier Gray prepared to face the slan delegation from the Moon, Jommy felt a
knot in his stomach. He was about to meet his own grandfather.
With Jem Lorry dead on the floor, Joanna volunteered to speak for the Tendrilless
Authority. President Gray was ready to tackle the rest of the negotiations himself, deciding to
deal with the remnants of Petty’s secret police later.
Commander Cross arrived in the underground base with ten slan emissaries. Cross wore a
black military uniform with gold piping, crisp creases, and a panoply of complex awards and
badges. The other delegates were a mixture of politicians, scientists, medical staff, and tactical
experts. All the true slans had long, healthy looking tendrils; secure beneath the craters of the
Moon, they had never needed to hide what they were. Jommy knew instinctively that a flurry
of silent thoughts must be flashing back and forth between them, but he was cut off from
them all.
Commander Cross’s eyes flicked from side to side, inspecting the underground laboratory
and base. He extended his hand toward Gray. “Mr. President, it’s a pleasure to meet you in
person, at last.”
Gray smiled. “Occasional messages and secret couriers aren’t good enough any more. I’m
glad your people finally decided to come out in the open.”
“You knew where they were?” Kathleen asked, surprised. “You knew the slan civilization
existed all along? I thought all those widely publicized slan messages and the unmanned
drones were fake!”
“Not all of them. I was aware that someone spoke for the true slans, but I didn’t know any
concrete information until now. The main populace of slans remained in hiding. I was only
aware of a few solitary slans, some of whom worked with me in the grand palace. Others
accomplished quite a bit all by themselves.” Gray shot an encouraging glance toward Jommy.
“Like this young man.”
Jommy drew a deep breath and stepped forward. “Commander Cross, it’s my pleasure to
meet you. My name is Jommy.”
The older man’s eyes lit up. “
Jommy Cross
? You’re Peter’s son. You’re alive!” Throwing aside
his military reserve, Cross wrapped his arms around the young man and clapped him hard on
the back. “But why can’t I sense you? You’re a true slan, just like your mother and father—”
He turned Jommy around, then looked with a sick horror at where his tendrils had been cut
off. “What have they done to you? Oh, Jommy!”
As Jommy explained in a halting voice, he felt great emotions bubbling up within him,
both excitement and sadness, hard determination and total exhaustion.
Cross stepped back and looked appraisingly at his grandson. “You’re safe now, Jommy.
You’re all safe.” His lips quirked in a smile. “As you might have noticed, we’ve brought enough
reinforcements to see that everyone behaves. Our ships will root out any last tendrilless
resistance and stop the continued destruction.”
“But what took you so long?” Kathleen asked. “The tendrilless attacked days ago. Most of
our cities are already ruined.”
Andrew Cross hung his head. “I am ashamed that we didn’t take action sooner. We slans
are much longer-lived than normal humans, and after so many generations, so many centuries,
hiding had unfortunately become a habit for us.
“Centuries ago, after the great breach between the tendrilless and true slans, we went
underground in our complex on the Moon. We faced many difficulties in those first few years.
Lunar resources are scarce. We had to manufacture water and air, scavenge metal from
meteorites beneath the craters. While the original wars had knocked Earth’s civilization back to
a level from many centuries before, we were able to build our base and develop our
technology. If the humans had known we were hiding on the Moon, they would have devoted
every resource to a space program. Nothing like an enemy to focus the attention of a
government! So we maintained a low profile.
“Recently, when the tendrilless war started, we watched by tapping into news broadcasts
and wireless transmissions. We had known for some time that the tendrilless were infiltrating
your political systems and your communications, but still we did not act.
“Some true slans insisted on letting the factions hammer it out for themselves. They
insisted that we shouldn’t get involved, that we had no debt to either side. When the great
air-strikes began and your cities fell, those same isolationist slans wanted to let you all destroy
yourselves while we remained safe on the Moon. They were willing to abandon any true slans
remaining on Earth.” He hung his head. “I knew that my son Peter and his wife had been
killed long ago. We thought the same thing had happened to you, too, Jommy.”
Jommy felt a lump in his throat.
“A large group of dissenters—including myself—demanded that we take measures to save
our human and tendrilless step-brothers. Sadly, we were out-voted. But when we detected the
clear distress signal emanating from the base here, I had the leverage I needed. I showed the
proof, called for another vote, and my isolationist opponents backed down. That was when we
launched our raids.”
“What distress signal?” Anthea asked, carrying her infant in her arms. His tendrils waved in
the air, as if he could sense the other slans in the chamber. “Is that what my baby and I
triggered when we found this empty place?”
“It was just you and your baby? The base was empty?” Commander Cross said, amazed.
“You did it yourselves? Only two of you?” The slan delegates, the scientists and politicians,
looked up at her. Cross’s disbelief began as a chuckle, then grew to full laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Anthea asked.
“I argued that there must be a whole enclave of true slans. Hundreds if not thousands! I
convinced the isolationists that we’d have an entire resistance movement here, ready to go.”
“You do have a resistance movement,” Jommy said. “The five of us.”
The commander grinned. “And if you’re anything like your father, Jommy, I should not
underestimate you.”
*
*
*
Gray motioned for the slan emissaries to sit at a long conference table in the underground
chamber. Anthea, who was the most familiar with the layout and the stored items in the secret
base, found food and drinks for them, then went to nurse her baby.
“Now this is the way a summit meeting is supposed to be,” Kathleen said with a bittersweet
smile. “I miss Granny and her apple pie, though.”
Jommy felt a pang, trying not to keep a score of how much he had lost in recent days.
Commander Cross laid out his plans, which were already set in motion. “We will certainly
encounter hot spots of tendrilless activity for some time yet, even without Jem Lorry to
provoke them. Some of the invaders will still fight, but it’s a lost cause. They will realize that
eventually. I just hope we can impose peace before too many others die.”
“We’ll be a long time counting all the casualties,” Gray said. “The people—slans, tendrilless,
and humans
—require strong leadership. They need to see that we are united and intent on
rebuilding.”
“The tendrilless will never stop fighting,” Joanna pointed out. “They can hide so easily
among humans.”
Cross gave a mysterious smile. “After this day is over, they shouldn’t be much of a
problem. I guarantee they won’t have any further interest in killing slans. They’ll have nothing
to complain about.” To his astonished audience, he and the slan scientists explained what was
at that moment happening in Cimmerium.
A squadron of advanced technological vessels had already launched from the Moon toward
Mars—research probes bearing a new sort of transmitter, a ray generator developed by slan
geneticists.
“What kind of rays?” Kathleen asked.
One scientist, a man named Dr. Philcroft, said in an awed whisper, “
Mutation
rays!”
Anthea was the one who piped up. “Mutation rays? Like the ones Dr. Lann supposedly
used to create the first slans? But that was just propaganda—no truth to it at all. I’ve studied the
tapes and records in the archives. Slans were a natural mutation.”
“We know, but it doesn’t have to be that way. In our lunar base we had many centuries to
expand our medical science. What was originally imagined as a wild rumor, we were able to
turn into reality. Slan geneticists did indeed create a device that would do exactly what the
ignorant mobs accused Dr. Lann of doing. Recall that the tendrilless hated us in the first place
because they felt we had denied them their rightful powers. Thus, we found a means to
activate the latent genetics frozen in the tendrilless slans. They always had the potential within
them, but it was masked. Within a few generations their children would be born with tendrils
anyway. So, we just accelerated that schedule.”
Commander Cross picked up the story. “We fitted our scientific ships with transmitters to
disperse those mutation rays widely, and those vessels are flying over the glass ceilings of
Cimmerium even now. Every tendrilless soldier in the occupation ships has already been