The Unwinding House and Other Stories

by Jared Millet

  He couldn’t see the Ish Marak chasing him, but he assumed they were there. The sentinels were nothing if not relentless, and the flora and fauna of Earth were the most prized in the galaxy. It had taken centuries for the Ish Marak to curb the exploitation of Earth’s biosphere, but in doing so they had forbidden access to the planet for any other purpose. That didn’t stop the odd pilgrim or thrill-seeker from trying, and it was only the chance that Ck’Luō wasn’t a gene-pirate that kept the sentries from shooting on sight.

  His heat shield overloaded two clicks above the ocean’s surface. Ck’Luō waited another thousand meters before turning his antigrav on for the last time. “Most provident in peril,” he imagined himself, using the Bard’s words. “Courage and hope both teaching him the practice.”

  The antigrav kicked, but he clamped his jaw and rolled with the blow. He flipped over in time to see that yes, there were three Ish Marak flyers homing in on him.

  He stripped in mid-air. His limb-sheaths came off first, freeing his arms and legs. His torso plate ejected and his tail-cover slid off when he unbuckled his harness. His helmet was the last to go, the wind almost blinding him as it ripped past his head. The shadows of the sentinels grew near, as did the chop of the surf. Ck’Luō smiled and waved at his pursuers, then deactivated the antigrav, slung the last of his harness away, and dove head-first, naked, into the sea.

  ~

  Iro’s craft blazed through the sky over what had once been Eurasia. Her trajectory took her toward the large inland sea that separated the northern and southern landmasses. She hoped to make it all the way. If she didn’t, she had a long walk ahead.

  As it was, she had to eject before her flyer slammed into the top of a mountain. The jolt of her parasail snapping taut almost broke her shoulders. She kept her wits long enough to steer toward a valley beyond the glacier below her. Not for the first time she wished that the ancient Human geneticists who’d gifted her race with arms and legs had also given them wings.

  She glided for miles as the mountains became foothills. Tiny motors in her parasail kept her aloft, but in the end gravity won and she touched down hard by the banks of a rippling stream.

  Iro sloughed out of her flight suit and crawled, aching, on knees and elbows to the water. It was cold, far colder than any of the currents on iceless Siren, her home. She clamped her teeth and slithered in, letting her lungs empty and the chill of snow-melt pass through her gills. Her harness had left creases in her flesh. She rubbed her shoulders and thighs and hoped the marks would heal quickly. Her tail shivered violently in the chill water, but she held to the rocky bottom and forced her body to adjust to the temperature.

  She wondered what the ancient Humans would have thought if they could have seen her. Doubtless they would’ve imagined her some fantastic mythological creature, yet thanks to their star-faring descendants there was as much terrestrial DNA in Iro’s blood as there was native Sirene. Would the Humans have been proud that one of their long-lost children had come home?

  Iro strode to the bank, dorsal fins quivering in the air, and checked her position with her navicomp. It could have been much worse. She had made it as far as the northern end of the peninsula that had been her destination. Now she only had to traverse three hundred kilometers of hilly terrain to reach the Roänn settlement.

  It was a long way to go on foot. It would be better, she decided, to follow the stream to the sea and swim along the coast. She hoped Ck’Luō was having a better time of it. With luck, he was waiting for her already.

  ~

  After diving in the icy waters of the open ocean, it became clear to Ck’Luō why Humans had evolved on land. Earth’s seas were too damned salty, for one thing, and the cold made him wish for a layer of blubber like his portly pod-brother Vh’Las.

  For the first few days, Ck’Luō kept below the surface and focused on evading capture. Once he felt sure (or at least hopeful) that the Ish Marak had abandoned pursuit, he poked his head into the air and attempted to get his bearings. The navicomp strapped to his waist had thankfully survived the fall, and it placed him some five hundred kilometers west of the inland sea where he and Iro had arranged to meet.

  Coming to Earth had been Ck’Luō’s idea. Splitting up had been hers. It was easier for one, she pointed out, to slip around the sentinels than it was for two. By staggering their arrivals, they would be less likely to arouse the Ish Marak’s suspicion. By keeping a low profile, they would only increase their chances of reaching the Roänn colony.

  Iro was always the practical one. Ck’Luō was the poet. “Parting is such sweet sorrow,” said the Bard, and Ck’Luō believed it. It was the same every time Iro left on one of her expeditions for the Institute. Ck’Luō always welcomed her home with verses culled from Human and Sirene wordsmiths, or fresh songs of his own devising. They made her smile, even if she didn’t fully appreciate them the way he did.

  They had never traveled off-world together, and Ck’Luō had wanted to on this of all occasions, but Iro’s logic won out. He reminded himself that love “looks on tempests and is never shaken; it is the star to every wandering bark.” It was enough that they were both here, on the world of their genetic and spiritual ancestors.

  He waited until night to swim eastward through the waves, and he used the stars to guide him.

  ~

  On the third day of her trek down the coast, Iro needed a rest. She was cold, tired, and as wrinkled as an old woman. She wanted to be beautiful when Ck’Luō saw her, not frigid and withered like a water-logged fruit. On a narrow beach at the base of a cliff, she pulled herself ashore and lay in the sun to dry.

  Birds wheeled overhead, their brilliant white bodies a contrast to their dark faces. Iro’s biocomp identified them as ichthyaetus melanocephalus, the Mediterranean Gull. She told it to record the video stream from her optic nerve. She meant to record every life form she came across. One didn’t visit Earth, even illegally, without taking pictures.

  Of all the known biospheres in the galaxy, Earth’s was the most abundant by an order of magnitude. Even her own world, with its unbroken seas full of life, couldn’t match the sheer variety and unparalleled bounty of the species of Earth. This was because of the peculiar nature of Earth DNA – more aggressive, competitive, and adaptable than any other genetic blueprint known to exist.

  Iro sunned on the beach until she felt like herself again. The Institute’s records had warned about strong tidal effects caused by Earth’s moon, but the inland sea was mostly sheltered from them and Iro slept undisturbed by the rising water.

  It was only after she woke that she noticed the stairs. She hadn’t seen them before, but now that the sun had dropped closer to the horizon, she could see the shadow they cut against the face of the cliff. It would soon be too dark to swim any farther, so she decided to explore upward.

  It was a tricky climb. The steps were so old they’d almost weathered to the original rock. At times she had to drop on all fours to keep her balance. She didn’t want to think about the inevitable climb down. It was already too late to turn back.

  There was nothing at the top of the cliff but a jumbled collection of stones. She’d hoped for a forest with more animals to record, but the nearest woods were over a kilometer away. Instead, only grass and moss grew through the piles of rock. It took her several minutes to recognize the stones as the remains of a Human village.

  She started recording. Out of reverence, she almost stopped breathing. Her colleagues at the Institute wouldn’t care about the ruins, but Ck’Luō would never forgive her if she didn’t share. Iro was a Naturalist, but Ck’Luō was a Humanist. She knew he would trade the sight of a hundred new species for five minutes on the hallowed ground of the Ancients that he so adored.

  In the center of the village was a marker. It was old, but not as old as the ruins themselves. Carved on the obelisk were markings in a flowing Roänn script, faded by centuries of rain. The language was Galactic Standard, but the words were those of one of Ck’Luō’s poets. M
ost of the passage was lost, but she could still read the heart of it.

  “The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, the great globe itself, Ye all which it inherit…”

  Humans weren’t much for modesty, Iro thought.

  “…shall dissolve.”

  Oh, she corrected herself.

  “And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, leave not a rack behind.”

  By all that lives, Iro wondered, did Humans even then know that one day they would be no more? Is that what drove them to seed themselves across the cosmos?

  “We are such stuff as dreams are made on…”

  The rest was too worn to read. She would have to show her recording to Ck’Luō. If they were lucky, she could even bring him back. She listened to the gulls for a while, then climbed down the steps to the cool evening waves.

  ~

  The warm Mediterranean was a relief after the frigid and tempestuous Atlantic. Ck’Luō found a cove as soon as he passed the boundary waters and camped for several days. His ration packs were nearly gone and he would have to hunt for food to survive. He’d seen many new species already, and he wished he had an implant like Iro to record them. He would have to describe them to her in a poem. It would probably be best, he thought, to leave out the parts about eating them.

  Earth fish were quick, he’d give them that. Unfortunately for them, however, they’d gone too many millennia without being hunted except by other fish. Ck’Luō hadn’t brought any traps, but he was able to fashion a net and crude spear out of some local plant life.

  He started small. There were schools of a particular silver fish that were especially plentiful. After a little exertion, he nabbed three, slit them open, and let them bake in the sun before dining on their white flesh. While tasty, they only whetted his appetite for more. In the deeper sea he had seen larger creatures. He would have to make a go at them as soon as he’d had a little more rest.

  ~

  Iro started to wish her journey would never end. Earth was so very beautiful. She had to wonder what pushed Humans into space to begin with. Why travel into the void when they had paradise all around them?

  Her navicomp told her she was less than a day’s swim from the Roänn colony, but there was so much to distract her. It was hard to resist a little self-indulgence.

  The creature she swam with that morning was a mobula mobular, a giant devil ray. It fluttered almost effortlessly like one of the great cloudwings of Cavor, only beneath the waves instead of over them. She trailed it for an hour, logging the entire experience into her biocomp. She wished she could capture one and bring it back to Siren, but knew that even speaking that thought aloud could land her in an Ish Marak holding cell.

  Her stomach cramped. She was hungry, but she couldn’t bear the thought of eating more rations. The Roänn settlement waited only kilometers ahead. She turned away from her watery companion and started toward the shore.

  She looked behind her one last time to watch the ray vanish in the distance, and another creature caught her eye. She stopped swimming and started recording again, waiting for her biocomp to classify the animal. When the beast’s name appeared in her field of vision, it was outlined in red.

  ISURUS OXYRINCHUS

  COLLOQUIAL NAME: MAKO SHARK

  EXTREME HAZARD

  An image from the computer appeared underneath the warning. All she saw was the creature’s teeth. Iro twisted in the water and bolted. She hoped she was far enough away that the monster wouldn’t follow.

  She was tired, but thanks to her journey she was also in the best physical shape she’d ever been. Arms and legs tucked in tight, she slithered eel-like toward the still-unseen shore. It couldn’t be too much farther, she thought. She glanced behind to see if she’d lost the mako.

  It had closed half the distance.

  By all that lives, it’s fast! Iro redoubled her efforts. She could feel her three hearts ready to burst from the exertion. She glanced over her shoulder again. The shark was closer still, and it didn’t even seem to be trying.

  She thrashed her tail harder, but she couldn’t go faster. She could see the bottom now; the shore had to be close. The water around her warmed. Iro glanced behind one last time.

  All she saw was teeth.

  ~

  Ck’Luō was on his guard, spear at the ready. He’d grown to know Earth’s creatures well, and he knew to be cautious. The Mediterranean current carried him toward his destination, so he conserved his strength. He didn’t know what it was that drove the bigger fish to attack. Maybe it had to do with pheromones, or the high body temperature of Sirenes compared to the local fauna. He’d have to ask Iro about it when they met.

  One more day, he told himself. Less than a day. Hours. His gills practically quivered. It had all been worth it. The hardship, the cold, the loneliness… Ah, but the adventure and wonder! Even if he never did it justice in verse (and by the Bard he would try), to share such a voyage with the woman of his dreams was an experience to cherish forever.

  There was a bitter scent in the water, at once familiar and out of place. Was it her? The Roänn were close, and the sea only five meters deep. Had she recently passed through these shallows? Had he actually picked up her scent?

  He couldn’t help but feel that the answer was yes. He turned away from the current and followed her trail. Of course, he knew, it could turn out to be some other form of sea-life that he was tracking, but it suited his own romantic notions to believe otherwise.

  As he neared the shore, anticipation turned to worry. The scent became stronger and it was definitely Sirene, but what he smelled couldn’t be right. His hearts went cold as he pushed toward the bottom. What he tasted in the water was a hint of blood.

  He found the strongest confluence in a small hollow on the sea floor not fifty meters from the coast. Sirene blood tended to sink in Earth’s over-salty water, and here the seabed was coated in it.

  Iro had been attacked. Ck’Luō didn’t want to believe it, but he couldn’t think of another explanation. Could there be other Sirene on Earth besides Iro and himself? He knew there weren’t, but he begged fate and the Bard’s uncaring God otherwise. He swam back and forth, looking for any sign or clue.

  He found a piece of her waist-harness wedged between two boulders. Later, he found the end of her tail.

  ~

  The Roänn caretaker found the young Sirene sitting quietly at the edge of the surf. The Roänn’s name was Beach-Comber, after an old Human pastime. He doubted that Human beachcombers had ever come across anything so strange.

  He held up his roots as he splashed into the water. The Sirene didn’t stir. Beach-Comber touched a branch to his shoulder. Only then did the young man jump.

  “Forgive me,” the Roänn rumbled, “but are you the Petitioner who fell into the ocean six weeks ago?”

  The Sirene boy’s eyes were wells of sadness. He nodded.

  “Most amazing.” The Roänn’s leaves fluttered quickly in the breeze. “We’d thought you lost. We never imagined that you could survive such a journey. Incredible!”

  The boy wiped a tear off his cheek. It was a very Human reflex, one that only a few of their offspring shared.

  “Don’t cry,” Beach-Comber said gently. “You mustn’t cry. You’re here! You’re alive! This is a time for celebration. Please, come with me to the colony. We can be there before nightfall. There’s still plenty of light.”

  “What light is light, if Iro be not seen?” the boy suddenly spoke. “What joy is joy if Iro be not by? Tarry I here, but I attend on death. Fly I hence, I fly away from life.”

  “Pish,” the Roänn said. “None of that. Besides, you’re saying it wrong and leaving parts out. The Bard would never approve. Now pull yourself together and take my branch.”

  He had to practically drag the youth out of the water. Once on land, the young man followed without argument. He didn’t say anything, in fact. Beach-Comber knew that of all the races in the galaxy, the aquatic Sirene w
ere the most like to Humans as the Humans themselves. This one, he mused, was displaying the Human quality of ‘dragging one’s feet.’

  “This Iro you speak of,” he said. “Tell me about her.”

  The youth was silent at first.

  “She was everything,” he eventually said. “She was the light that shimmers on the face of the water, and the comforting shadows beneath. She was a splash of color on the seabed. A flower in the coral. She was the music of the tide, and the dance of the waves.”

  He went on like that for a while. Beach-Comber let the words drift through his leaves and into the air, where the wind carried them in his pollen to his brothers and sisters at the colony. When at last the travelers arrived, everyone there had heard Ck’Luō’s song filtered through the language of the trees.

  Beach-Comber gestured to a low hilltop overlooking the sea.

  “This way, Petitioner.”

  On the crest of the hill was a small stand of Roänn who had already gathered. Not many other species made requests to visit the colony. Fewer still were granted permission to land, but the Sirenes’ petition had been so unusual that it intrigued the Roänn even after the Ish Marak denied them access. The young ones’ bravery in defying the sentinels could not go unrewarded. The Roänn would grant what they had asked.

  Beach-Comber guided the sorrowful young man to the top of the hill. At the summit, two of the trees stepped aside and Ck’Luō gasped in wonder.

  For there stood Iro. Her tail was a bandaged nub, and her face and arms bore fresh scars. There was a hole in her dorsal fin and she leaned on a crutch for support, but there she was.

  She smiled.

  “The light that shimmers on water, huh?”