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“Young-Geordy-who-will-be-eldest-in-the-fullness-of-time wants to know why your eyes are wet.”

That was one thing I liked about the Droose—their directness and their complete lack of guile.

“I am sad that Old Geordy is gone,” I told him, and his brow creased in puzzlement.

“But Old Geordy is with the One, and the One are always with us.” His head tilted to one side. As if listening to some far away sound. “He says that I am to help you understand.”

I pushed him away, feeling ashamed at treating him so roughly, but I wasn’t ready for more religious babble. I was hurt and angry and I had lost a friend—I needed time to come to terms with it.

The makeshift bar was quiet at this time of the day—most of the team were out in the field—geological surveys, biological surveys, even a couple of archaeologists. I knew that the latter were beginning to despair. The Droose had an excellent and long oral history, but they didn’t write, their houses were little more than mud huts, and they built no lasting artifacts.

“It’s not natural,” one of the archaeologists had said. “All other sentient beings build something—temples to the gods, statues of historical figures, even artwork would be something.”

The closest we had come to learning their history had been through Old Geordy, and even then it had been overlaid with some obvious legends about the coming of the One.

There it was again. I couldn’t stop thinking about him—so alive one second, so dead the next.

“Whisky. Large,” I said to Trish—chef, archivist and, this week, part-time bartender. Like all good bar staff everywhere, she knew when to keep her mouth shut.

I downed the fiery liquor in one smooth gulp and felt its heat hit my stomach as I motioned for more.

“Bad day at the office,” I explained as Trish poured another. “I know I’ll pay for this in the morning.”

Trish smiled, and I felt a different heat in my chest; a softer, subtler one, but no less powerful for that.

“I finish in an hour,” she said. “Do you mind if I join you? It’s a long time since I let my hair down.”

I didn’t really feel like company. All I wanted to do was drink as much as I could as quickly as possible, and let oblivion take me away.

“You can join me if you like, but I can’t promise that I’ll be sober in an hour.”

She smiled again, and I thought that maybe I was wrong. Maybe sober would be a better way to be if she was going to keep smiling at me like that.

One thing led to another, and I woke the next morning in a strange bed. I was disoriented at first, then I felt the body beside me. I had to smile as the memory came back to me, and I thought of waking her and getting it all going again; but the weight of last night’s beer lay hot and heavy in my bladder.

The bathroom was the second door I tried. I stepped in, put on the light, and almost screamed.

A small Droose was sitting on the lavatory seat and smiling up at me.

“If you have finished mating, Young Geordy wished to talk to you.”

I remembered conversations with Old Geordy, and realized it would be useless to try to explain human habits—it only brought laughter. Droose procreation remained a mystery to us, but I guessed it didn’t involve penetration—that was the part where they always laughed the loudest.

I didn’t bother asking how he got in either—they seemed to have a knack with locks which baffled us, considering that they never knew nothing about the concept before our arrival. I quickly fell into his mode of speech.

“How can I help the One?” I asked.

He stopped smiling as he looked up at me.

“Geordy is worried. The archaeologists are getting close to the One. You must stop them.”

I was struck speechless. This was the first time any of the Droose had ever asked for anything, it was the first time I had seen signs of worry, and it was the first time that there had been any indication that the One existed in any physical way.

“But they only want to learn from the One,” I said, using a line that had mollified them in the past. It didn’t work this time.

“The One preserves us, and the One teaches us, but we do not enter where the One is strong. But now your men are getting close. You must stop them.” He was distraught— I could hear it in his tone.

“I will talk to McKinley,” I said, but he was shaking his head.

“McKinley doesn’t know the One, and he doesn’t care about the wishes of the Droose. You must do it, and do it soon.”

I was going to have to watch my step—they were much more observant than we imagined if they knew about the Captain.

“Take me to them,” I said. “I will try to stop them.”

I wasn’t sure that I could. If they had found anything interesting, after all this time, they weren’t going to give it up on my say so; and I knew that McKinley would agree with them. I had to try though—I owned it to Old Geordy.

I tried not to wake Trish while I dressed, but I was unsuccessful.

“Come back to bed,” she said. “I want your body.”

I coughed discreetly, but couldn’t stop the natural curiosity of the Droose.

“Why does Trish-who-is-this-week-the-bar-person want your body? Doesn’t she like her own body?”

Trish let out a small yell and dived under the covers, before poking her head out.

“What’s going on?” she asked. I explained as well as I could and told her to go back to sleep. There was small chance of that.

“No way,” she said. “The first bit of excitement round here and you expect me to go back to bed? If those graverobbers need to be stopped, then I’ll stop them.”

She made us turn our backs as she dressed. The Droose didn’t understand why, but he turned anyway, with a shrug and a smile. I believe he thought it was just another human habit.

He led us away from the camp and beyond the outskirts of the Droose village.

“They followed as the elder took Old Geordy to the One,” he told us as we walked. “And they would not go away when asked. Now they have began to dig in the place of the One. You must stop them.”

He was being very insistent on that point.

“Why is it so important?” Trish asked.

At first I thought the Droose wasn’t going to reply, but then his head tilted to one side in the gesture I’d seen on several occasions before, and he answered.

“If the One is disturbed then no more will be able to join, and if no more join then the Droose will die.”

It didn’t matter if it was true or not—they believed it. I began to realize that he was talking about some sort of burial ground - the place where the One was strong. Maybe Trish’s remark about graverobbers hadn’t been so far off the mark after all.

The small Droose was getting noticeably more agitated as we got further from the village.

“We are close to the One,” he said, and made a gesture with his hands to his forehead that I’d never seen before. He pointed through the trees. “It is in that direction, about two hundred steps. I can go no closer - it is too far from my time.”

At that he turned and left us. Trish looked at me and shrugged her shoulders.

“What do you make of that?” she asked.

“I think we’ve hit on one of their taboos,” I said.

I was trying to fit this latest information in with some clues I’d had earlier. Something was trying to bring itself into memory, but my filters weren’t letting it through—not yet anyway.

“I think Lee and Potter have violated one of their graveyards, and they’re not happy about it.”

“And what’s all this got to do with the One?”

I couldn’t answer that one. Droose religion was still beyond me, But I did know that violating a grave was something I disagreed with violently; and if Lee and Potter had done anything to Old Geordy’s body then they’d have me to answer to, and fuck McKinley and his ‘needs of science’ speeches.

I started to walk faster. The sun was glinting through the tree, laying shades of green in sheets on the path in front of us. We turned a corner, and we were in a clearing. I recognized the place—Old Geordy always brought me out here when he was trying to explain some complicated piece of Droose theology. He said the One was strong here. There was a hole in the ground which had never been there before, a hole which led deep into the earth.

We were just about to enter when Lee and Potter emerged—grimy, covered in dirt, but with broad smiles across their faces.

“This is what we’ve been waiting for,” Potter said, as he pulled himself out. “You should see it. They must have been burying their dead down there for millennia—it’s a regular warren, and seems to go on for miles.”

“And then there’s the carvings—the whole history must be there,” Lee said, turning to Trish. “You’re going to love it.”

“I’d like you to close that hole up,” I said, trying to keep my voice even, trying not to let my anger show. The archaeologists looked at me as if I was stupid.

“We didn’t open it,” Lee said, in the tone of a spoilt schoolboy. Potter shut him up with a wave of his hand.

“I don’t think so. And I think McKinley will back us up—this is what he’s been waiting for.”

That was what I was afraid of. McKinley had been kicking his heels for weeks now, and this find would give him the excuse to throw his weight around a bit. I had been hoping to appeal to their better nature, but I could see that wasn’t going to work. I was about to resort to threats when Trish beat me to it.

“Who the hell do you think you are? They buried one of their elders down there today, and just hours later you’re out desecrating the grave. Have you no shame?”

“Listen lady…” Lee began, but Trish wasn’t finished.

“You’re about to find out that I’m no lady,” she said, just before planting a perfect drop kick into his privates. He curled up in pain and began to groan. Potter made a move towards Trish but he must have seen the look in my eye. He backed off, fast.

“Okay. I’ll get McKinley. He’ll soon sort you out.”

He left, dragging Lee along beside him. I was pleased to see that the younger man was still grabbing his privates, and his skin had turned a pale shade of grey.

“Where did you learn that?” I asked.

“Three older brothers,” she said. “Give me a hand with this.”

She was trying to lift what looked like a large turf from the ground, a turf which was big enough to cover the hole. We managed to get it back into place and tapped it down with our heels.

“So what now?” she asked.

I wasn’t sure. Waiting for McKinley didn’t really appeal to me, but it seemed the only option open to us. We moved off to one side, neither of us speaking, but both mindful of the dead beneath us. We sat on a stump and shared a cigarette, trying to formulate a plan of action. Trish summed up the situation in one sentence.

“McKinley is going to love this—it’ll give him a chance to strut. God, what a baboon that man is.”

I had to agree. Way back, when the trip had still been in the planning stages. I had questioned the need for the military to be involved at all; but politics won in the end, and we were struck with McKinley. Not only did he not understand the needs of the scientists, he was openly contemptuous of their work. And to cap it all, he took an instant dislike to the Droose.

“Primitive savages,” was his considered opinion on the day we landed, and it hadn’t changed in the last two months. I wasn’t looking forward to convincing him otherwise.

Trish had been thinking along different lines.

 

 

“Do you think we can enlist the help of the Droose?” she asked. “If I can get one of them to the comm centre, then maybe we can pre-empt McKinley and go straight to the Council. I’ll bet they’ll take a dim view of desecration.”

I wasn’t so sure—I thought that exploitation was probably the prime directive of the mission, regardless of all that happy talk we had given the Droose on our arrival. I wasn’t given a chance to reply though, for at that moment the Droose began to come out of the trees.

They ignored us completely, heading straight for the disturbed turf. I moved to call out, but was stopped by Trish’s hand on my arm.

“I think they might have solved our dilemma for us,” she whispered, as the Droose began to file into the hole in the ground.

I can’t be completely sure, but I think that the whole tribe was there—females, children, elders, and all. They weren’t talking, and they weren’t smiling, but they all went down into the ground.

I looked at Trish, but she only stared back at me. I suppose her puzzled expression was reflected in my own face. A new variable had been added to the equation; an equation we had no idea how to solve. We hadn’t even began to consider it when McKinley strode along the path, accompanied by Potter and two security men. I braced myself for a confrontation, but was stopped again by Trish.

“Let them do what they want,” she whispered, just before they reached us. “I think the Droose know what they’re doing.”

McKinley came right close up to me—almost nose to nose.

“We’re going in—and that’s an order. Don’t try to stop us.”

They hadn’t seen the Droose, that was apparent. I wasn’t going to argue too much, but Trish beat me to it anyway.

“We’ve been doing some thinking. Maybe it would be a good idea to go in—maybe we can learn something.”

There was a strange look in McKinley’s eyes—somewhere between confusion and disappointment. I think he’d been looking forward to an argument. Trish confused him further with her next statement.

“We’re coming in with you—somebody needs to keep your ghouls under control.”

I looked over at her, but her face was passive, giving nothing away—I would hate to play her at poker. I wished I knew what she was thinking.

We followed the Droose into the ground. I wasn’t looking forward to it, but as Trish said, someone had to protect the Droose’s interests. What worried me was that there weren’t any Droose left to protect. The words of the young Droose earlier still echoed around in my head— “If no more can join, then the Droose will die.” I had a bad feeling about what was waiting for us.

Potter had brought the lights. He handed one to Trish, and the harsh glare of the hand-held halogen lit our way as we went steadily downwards.

The walls were built of large blocks of sandstone. I had visited several Neolithic tombs back on Earth; in Carnac, in Orkney and on Salisbury Plain. This gave the same sense of age, of a time long past. What I hadn’t expected, what was completely different, was the overwhelming feeling that this place was in use. The walls ran damp, and there was a salt tang in the air, but there was no sign of moss or lichen on the walls—only the damp glistening stone and the carvings.

I didn’t have time to study them, but even I, with my limited archaeological knowledge—even I could see that they didn’t fit with any of our currently known systems.

They weren’t crude though—they displayed a high degree of precision, and the scenes they depicted made my blood run cold; scenes of killing and mutilation, decapitation and disembowelment. The Droose had been hiding things from us, just as McKinley had suspected. Maybe it was because they were embarrassed about a sinful past. I tried to keep that thought in mind as we headed deeper.

The slope leveled out suddenly, almost causing me to fall into Trish, who had stopped abruptly. She grabbed my hand, and my heart gave a lurch as I felt its hot heaviness. She was thinking of other matters though.

“Look,” she whispered, and I could hear the excitement in her voice as I turned to follow her gaze. I found myself looking at a wall of Droose bodies, all laid out in separate stone chambers which had been carved from the solid rock. McKinley and the others had gone on ahead, but Trish and I were transfixed by the sight.

Some of the bodies looked as if they’d been mummified—all dried up and withered—but others looked ready to get up off the slabs and walk. In the chamber we were in, I counted at least two hundred bodies, and when we walked into the next, it was even bigger. There were ten tunnels leading off into further chambers, and we were just in time to see the rest entering one of them.

Our footsteps echoed around us as we followed. It was only then that I wondered what had happened to the tribe. Either this place was huge, or they were in hiding.

 

 

We entered into the biggest chamber yet—a vast cavern of a place. Our lights weren’t strong enough to penetrate the gloom fully, but I guessed from the echoes that the ceiling was several hundred feet above us. The bodies were lined up in the wall, up and up until they faded into the darkness. There were thousands of them.

I was still looking upwards when Trish pulled at my arm. There was a cluster of bodies in the centre of the room—we had found our Droose. McKinley and the others were standing over them as we crossed the room, and I was aware of the almost sepulchral silence.

McKinley looked at me, and for the first time since I had met him, I saw puzzlement on his face.

“They’re alive,” he whispered, and his voice raced away into the darkness where it came back at us from a hundred places. “They’re alive,” he said again, as if refusing to believe it. I could see what he meant.

They were arranged in a tightly packed circle, facing outwards towards their ancestors. They sat, cross-legged, and their eyes were open; but when I walked in front of one he never even blinked.

Trish came over and held my hand tightly.

“They look like they’re waiting for something,” she said, putting her lips to my ear as if trying to minimize the echoes. I nodded, suddenly unable to speak, as I caught a movement to my right, over near the wall. I almost forgot to breathe as Old Geordy climbed down from a niche in the wall and came towards us.

Trish grabbed my hand tighter—she had recognized him as well.

His eyes were sad as he came closer.

“Old-Geordy-of-the-One is pleased to see his friend again, but you must leave. This is a Droose place.”

I bowed my head in the Droose manner before replying.

“Your friend is also pleased to see you again—but he is confused. Is Old-Geordy not with the One?”

The Old Droose laughed, a strange warm thing in the cold chamber.

“But surely my friend has seen the One? The One is everywhere here.”

I was still confused, but Trish came to my aid.

“Hive mind,” she whispered in my ear. “They’re not dead.”

At first I thought she meant the tribe in the centre, but then I heard the shuffling.

Old Geordy grabbed my arm. “My friend must leave. The Droose go to join with the One—it is their time.”

I began to argue, but he was insistent.

“All here will join the One,” he said, as the rustling bodies came down from the wall.

“Let’s get out of here,” Trish said, dragging me off towards the exit.

I caught a last glimpse of McKinley and his men being swamped by a horde of withered Droose, then Old Geordy waved at me for one last time before Trish and I fled for the exit.

We waited for McKinley to follow us, but no one ever came back out of the hole.

That’s about it really. Trish and I shipped out two weeks later, but not before we made sure that the hole was securely sealed. McKinley and the crew were never found, and Trish and I kept our silence; but in dreams I see them, silent, staring, but still aware, lying down there amongst the Droose, and I wonder if they had joined the One.

Knowing the Droose, I suspect not.