Chapter 5, cont.

Please help us, begged the telepathic voices.

"If not for this little girl," Horoz confessed, his interest diminishing exponentially as their conversation continued, "I'd have no incentive to help you at all. I have much more important matters that require my attention."

Then it is good for us that this dear infant led you here. Truth be told, we can help you with your goal.

"Two telepaths help me? I have a difficult time believing this."

Conejo is a healer, as well. You are perceptive—we can teach you the foundation of our bases in order to give you the new identity you desire. It was short work for us to learn each others' bases because we were driven by sheer desperation. Learning ours is something that should be easy breezy for a default Base-TR.

Horoz had to admit his was a compelling argument. "What about my other quest?"

That is yet to be determined. Neither of us know enough about this Drache to assess whether he is truly a threat, as you also do not know, and psychic though I may be, I do not possess the ability to decipher another's prophecy. Please, though—this discussion will be easier if you can help us escape first.

"Tell me about your cells, then. Your gaolers as well."

Horoz listened with full focus while Monyet described the prison, their guards, and as much useful information about the area and themselves as he and Conejo could conceive. They projected it to him with such vivid clarity that he almost believed he was a prisoner alongside them, down to the chill of the walls and the stench hanging in the air.

"So you are able to pierce the anti-spell barriers because you are working in tandem at the weakest section in the partition," he realized, deep in analysis. "I may be able to save one of you, maybe the other, but your Kambing is lost, even if he is not dead."

I have long ago accepted that. If you can free even one of us, that is better than neither.

"You are a very old child," Horoz added, getting a sense of what this Monyet must have gone through in his short existence. "I suppose that's preferable to a young one I could name."

Time is short. Kissa is coming.

Kissa—this was the Base-FI who made the graduate-level cell bars. But who made the cell itself, he wondered. He turned to Bāgha again and looked her in the eye. "Will you allow me to shift as I desire in order to help your new friends?"

She nursed her bottle some more, giving no particular indication of her wishes that he could determine.

"Hmm."

Horoz_IT

Gallo probed the ground beneath him. There were nearly forty ells between him and the prisoners, with a type of crystalline allotrope of carbon compound forming the majority of the cell walls. "I can manage the earth," he assessed, "but the walls are composed of Grade 15 stone. Not graduate level, but close enough that I can't do much to it at this distance."

You do not cleave stone with quakes?

"Not when it is buried so far down. Base-IT has limits on how far it overlaps with Base-ID. Unexpectedly, Base-ID is a branch of Base-MY. You may have an easier time of it, especially after spending so much time with your prior."

Is that so... Please allow me to study your base to see what I've been missing.

Gallo focused on the essentials of Base-IT: the components of soil working in harmony to create nutrients for plant life, created from the erosion of minerals and decaying organic material. From these elements of life, everything—the components of a dance for life.

He drifted away as Monyet plumbed his memories, fishing through them like old photos in a shoebox. It was like a slideshow of his past. He found himself in the dark, driving to heaven. A bright morningstar, sweet things...

Do you feel me?

He didn't quite understand what he was seeing. "Am I dreaming?"

I think I have it.

The ground shook below him as a crack opened up, threatening to swallow Gallo and Bāgha. It took all his agility to catch the child and protect her like a roll cage as they fell. "Break my fall!" he cried, struggling to concentrate on forming an earthen cushion, but the distance was both too far and not far enough.

The two landed with considerable impact—Bāgha started to whimper in fright but was unharmed. Gallo...

Something was piercing his spine. "I – can't feel my legs," he whispered, sprawled awkwardly at the bottom of a giant crevice. Being detected was the farthest thing from his mind at the moment, especially since that seemed unavoidable at this point.

I'm sorry—I didn't know my own strength.

In a panic, Gallo strained to order the earth to lift him out of there, away from harm, before Kissa could detect them. He couldn't focus, though, as great of a shock he was in.

What's going on?

This voice was not Monyet or Conejo, but neither did they project whose it was.

I felt a disturbance in the force—

"Ha," Gallo laughed in spite of himself. "Forcefields don't get disturbed. What an idiot."

The rest of Kissa's dialogue was piecemeal. He didn't quite know if it was that Monyet and Conejo were distracted, or if the barrier was stronger now. At lengths, it seemed to calm down enough that their conversation resumed.

I found what was missing inside you.

"What?"

int main ()
{

cin >> root;
cout << root_ID;

}

Gallo felt something change in his core, much the way that Bāgha had changed him upon her arrival. He understood—such a subtle difference between a mastery of earth and of stone. It didn't do him any good now, however.

I apologize for my impetuousness. I must have gotten that from my prior. Please allow me to heal you.

| A-T |
| G-C |
| G-C |
| A-T |
| A-T |
| A-T |
| G-C |
| G-C |
| A-T |
| G-C |
| A-T |
| G-C |

Gallo perceived the spell with astonishing clarity—the bases were indeed similar at their foundation. Earth was a dynamic, ever-changing state between life and death. Genetic material was an unalterable code that kept a record of life. Stone was an in-between—not alive but permanent. Speaking the language of rock was just a matter of learning its structure.

And healing was simply a matter of recalling the record of one's genetic make-up.

After sitting up, Gallo found he could stand again with some effort, almost as good as new. Bāgha was similarly refreshed and at peace, clawing into his toga again in contentment as she slumbered.

"Let's try this, then," he declared, excited at gaining a whole new level of understanding.

Gallo_ID

Ayam Jantan looked at himself in astonishment. His fur was copper and sleek. With the merest thought, he could send a small quake through the area. He hadn't needed to go through the trouble of advancing through grades starting from 1 like he had with his other base shifts.

Furthermore, now he could project his thoughts—and cull them from others.

Ayam Jantan^MY

Ayam Jantan was mildly disappointed that he didn't change in appearance with this new shift, though he could tell his style was different. It seemed odd that stones and telepathy would be this related—no, it wasn't stone, specifically. The foundation was more in quakes: vibrations. That was the thread linking the two in the most obtuse of manners, one relating to movement and the other relating to communication. Once he realized this, he could do both with the greatest of ease.

Well, in that case, he had no purpose staying any longer.

No, please don't leave us.

Why shouldn't I? I have what I need from you, and you should have what you need from me.

I don't have control, not enough to get free.

That is not my problem.

We can teach you to heal, too.

I can already do that now, too, as Gallo. Same base, same style. All life comes from earth—it makes sense now. I have no further use for either of you.

Their communication ceased as Monyet took in this knowledge. Conejo, also, if she really had been in the conversation in the first place. Good, he had to get back to his quest. He tested his theory for good measure:

Ayam Jantan_ES

Gallo focused for a bit, feeling the distinct flow of life through his veins, through the veins of the world. He fixed up the rough job Monyet had done on him when Conejo was out of reach, until he was even better than new. Yes, he was through with them forever, and nothing could stop him from leaving.

Bāgha.

The girl stirred at Monyet's prompting. Gallo frowned, not at all pleased with the realization that he now had a significant weak point, and that others knew what it was.

Bāgha, please ask Gallo to help us.

It was like being a marionette, an invisible leash dragging him back down as though to make him take his place among them as a fellow captive. This was getting old fast—too bad Bāgha wasn't, so she wouldn't be dependent on him.

Another shock hit him as he realized something else: What would she be like when she grew up? Then he might truly be her playtoy. Now he desperately needed to learn Base-IN!

Keep your friends close, your enemies closer.

Strange words coming from Monyet, but they were true. In order to free himself from Bāgha, Gallo would have to learn from Bāgha.