From the 1st book, Namazu is gravely wounded



Namazu, attacked by hostile aliens at Oxford, hovers near death.

Erish smelled exhaust fumes. The motor chugged loudly and the muffler was ajar. Every small bump caused the vehicle’s suspension to move in unpredictable ways. One headlight was out. She drove on, occaisionnally looking over at Namazu. Her eyes were closed as she slumped on the seat.

Driving through the dark night, she tried to focus on the road ahead, dimly lit by one headlight. She thought again of the Rebel yell she heard. She remembered a similar cry.

In those days, more than a century ago, she fought with Namazu against the Papal armies. She remembered cold, rainy landscapes, barren trees, the ground, pock marked by small craters, some filled with muddy rainwater, it was Northern Italy. On an abandoned battleground stood a ruined music conservatory, one that specialized in teaching castratos. Neo-classical buildings and manicured grounds, now burned, shells of structures, blackened columns standing bare in the wind. Stained, torn sheets of music lay on the ground, muddied by recent rains. No priests or teachers here anymore. A goat ran through the building. A young man, no more than 15 sat on ruined steps, shivering. He wore a tunic with a drape pulled tight around his shoulders. This was the only home he had known.  Dressed as a male soldier, she gave him her cloak and wondered if anyone was nearby. He was thin and hungry. In a rustic Italian accent, he asked if she could give him a few coins to sing. Erish nodded. He tried to sing an aria. His voice was ragged, not fully formed. He had not learned the technique for which his manhood was sacrificed. It was that voice that sounded like the Confederate rebel yell she heard at the University, an echo of a once refined culture. 

Seeing Welcome signs, she realized she was entering Tupelo. It was late. Streets were deserted. She drove the car, looking more appropriate for the junkyard than a showroom, unnoticed. Namazu slumped in the seat beside her. Her eyes were open again, but she did not move, her breathing more labored.  She must get her to a medical bay. She pushed the gas pedal down, dragging the detached muffler, clanging on the road. After turning onto gravel, the muffler finally fell off. At least the clanging stopped.

In a half hour, she pulled onto the abandoned road leading to Namazu’s ship. She would not approach quietly, the motor chugging. She saw a light twinkling in the distance. Driving closer, she saw Hilimaz and Batresh standing at the ship.

Without speaking, they went to work. Batresh acted instinctively. She didn’t hesitate or reflect. The actions she took emanated from deep within. It was the core of her being, her center, the Anahata. The Hindi referred to these centers as chakras, and the Anahata as the Heart Chakra. Every Tayamni had a role to play. All fulfilled one of seven roles, and were created from one of seven vibrations, seven centers, seven chakras. The vibrations that brought her into being, emanated from this point. The Anahata, meaning unstruck, unhurt, unbeaten. Ancient technology, yoni, devices serving as wombs were used to create all Tayamni. The yoni, serving as both egg and fertilizing agent, created her. Those created from the Anahata would be nurturing, loving, and protective. It was from vibrations at the Anahata, that her actions now emerged.

Batresh lifted her sister from the front seat, and slowly, carefully, brought her to the ship. Placing her gently on the pad, she pulled a small, metallic cylinder from her pocket. It activated with a dim yellow light and quiet vibration. Moving it across Namazu’s body, up and down, she lingered over the chest muscles. As Batresh cared for her sister, Hilimaz helped Erish retrieve the still unconscious humans from the trunk. They placed each of them onto horizontal pads in the back of the craft. Belts moved silently around them, holding them in place. Batresh sent a telepathic message to Hilimaz and Erish telling them that she would pilot the vessel.  

Sitting in the pilot’s seat, she placed her hand in the reader. Transparent coverings moved into place, and the vessel lifted silently through the air. After hesitating just above the treetops, the craft shot quickly through the sky and stratosphere. Once above Terra, the vehicle turned, and sped towards Luna. Batresh’s attentions had been effective. Namazu was no longer struggling to breathe. 

The seat to her right modified into a horizontal pad, making a bed for Namazu. She lay there, as if in a coma, her eyes open slightly. Batresh could not tell whether she was conscious. She whispered, “I love you.” She saw Namazu’s lips part. She thought she may have seen a smile. She could feel Namazu was attempting to send a message, but she could not understand it. Removing her right hand from the reader, she took her sister’s hand in hers. Namazu’s energy was faint.

As the ship sped towards the Moon, Batresh remembered playing dolls with her when they were very small. When she was around four, Namazu developed a preference for weapons. She was physically bigger and stronger than Batresh, strong willed and stubborn. Created from the Muladarha vibration, she was a warrior. Batresh remembered seeing her sister take a mace from an adult male soldier, at Sekhem. He was taken off-guard and spun around. But, seeing it was a little girl, he laughed.  He asked how such a small child could hold a heavy weapon. He jumped back when she swung it at him. Batresh remembered being astonished, as Namazu held the weapon menacingly, challenging the soldier to take it from her.  

From that point, their childhoods diverged. Batresh continued playing house with her friends, pretending to care for babies, while Namazu practiced knife fighting with the human General. She sat in on meetings regarding strategies to protect the city from raids. She was athletic and adventurous. Finally, at around the age of ten, the Matriarch sat her down and explained that she had an unfair advantage over the adult human males. Her body had been created specifically for strength, speed, and agility. Namazu was told she should allow the human adults to win some athletic games.

As they grew older, Batresh grew more interested in the arts, creating beauty, and comfort. She was encouraged to take on artistic tasks, dancing, music, and decorative arts. Her skills kept her close to the Matriarch and the palace while Namazu was sent on missions.    

Namazu experienced tragedies and true to her warrior nature, she hid her feelings.  She kept secrets, not only from Batresh but also from the Elders. They went through her memories after each mission, both to recover information and to assess her psychological state. Being a lesbian, she was the victim of abuse and discrimination, depending on her mission. Humans in later centuries were not as accepting as those at Sekhem. She lost people she loved.

Batresh learned to read her sister’s facial expressions and body language. Just as Namazu felt physically protective of her gentler sister, Batresh felt she must be vigilant to safeguard Namazu from despair. Seeing a downcast look, or hearing a particular tone in her voice, was enough for Batresh to act, using emotional skills at her disposal to bring comfort, to make sure her sister returned to her sarcastic, mischievous self again. She couldn’t bear to see her suffer. 

Flying to the Lunar base, realizing her sister’s body could die, Batresh was in full rescue mode. She assessed, and reassessed Namazu’s condition, watching for any changes in her face and her body, monitoring her heartbeat and breathing, going over various scenarios that could result in organ failure, and others that could save her life. Like a mathematician evaluating solutions to solve an equation, Batresh engaged all her abilities.

If Namazu died, the Elders would give her a different body. Even so, Batresh still felt the same fear of death her human counterparts felt. She didn’t know how dying would change her sister, whether or not she would return as the same person. Closing her eyes tightly, griping the steering mechanism, she prayed to Auset to preserve Namazu, to keep her sister healthy, to maintain the person she loved.

The craft orbited Luna to a position near the base, and began to descend at an angle. Having seen her sister struck by the Tlaloc weapon via sensors, her fear of Tlaloc technology intensified. Even though it was next-to impossible, she was afraid they might penetrate the Lunar shieling. Flying over the surface, Batresh watched the landscape furtively, looking for signs of invasion. She was happy to feel the vessel descend and see the surface of the crater slide open. She watched Namazu’s face as the craft lowered itself into the central cylinder, sending telepathic alerts to whomever might be nearby. The craft touched down and there, already waiting were hovering medical robots. They moved towards Namazu and the two human men on stretchers at the back of the vehicle, their metallic, mechanical arms and grips worked softly, almost tenderly.   

Hilimaz and Erish were already there. Hilimaz stood near the wounded human abductees at the Medical Bay. Erish explained events at Oxford to an Elder. 

Batresh looked at her sister on the stretcher. The bots were scanning, analyzing Namazu’s condition. A device overhead cast beams of light, now red, now orange, and then blue at her sister’s motionless form. Her breathing grew more relaxed. Batresh felt a message in her cerebral cortex, the message she knew would come. The Elder asked the three of them to come with her immediately.

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