by J. J. Green
“And look at this.” He spread his arm wide, indicating the messy cabin, with Council devices and bits of rubbish scattered around. “More evidence of your thoughtless, inconsiderate attitude. All week I’ve been cleaning up after you. All week. I’ve had enough.” He opened his locker and pulled out his bag. As he was filling it with his things, he continued, “I knew if I said anything to you...if I tried to make you understand what you were doing wrong, you wouldn’t listen. You’d get offended. And I was right. You go on about Belinda being rude and pig-headed? Well, maybe the next time you feel like moaning about her, go have a look in there first.” He pointed at the mirror before stuffing the last of his possessions into his bag.
Carrie stood dumbfounded through this speech. As Dave opened the door she managed to ask, “But, where will you go?”
“I don’t know. But wherever it is, it’ll be better than living with you.”
Carrie watched the closed door for a long moment.
When it was clear her friend wouldn’t be coming back, she took down the T-shirt he had draped over the cabin window to block out the view of the ocean. She carefully folded it and placed it on the locker top. She would have to remember to give it to him the next time she saw him, whenever that might be. Going to the window, she gazed deep into the murky water. Far off, lights blinked in brilliant, intricate patterns. It must have been the creatures she had seen on her way to the most recent marsoliie meeting, where she had been tardy, and the Groups had taken all the Singles. She recalled stopping to watch beautiful lights, making herself late, then delaying further because she had been too proud to tell anyone about her confusion and too stupid to figure out what the problem was.
The green ocean light dimmed as a dark mass floated nearer overhead. It was the creature Carrie had spoken to, who had told her it would soon deal with any placktoids that arrived. She wondered if it knew that the mechanical aliens had indeed appeared, and if it had any plans for dealing with them. As her eyes grew used to the darkness of the water, she could make out a patch of red, which moved and pulsated. Group marsoliie, it had to be, probably patrolling, looking for Singles to annex. She ached to get out there and do something to protect them.
She frowned. Was this what Dave was talking about? Was she really reckless and impulsive? She had never seen him so angry. But it felt so wrong not to act. To just sit by and wait. It made her feel useless. Abruptly, she turned from the window and sat on the locker top. On the floor around her lay the stuff Dave had complained about. It did look a bit messy, she had to admit.
The room seemed very quiet and empty without her friend there. She wondered where he had gone. Maybe another trainee had room in a cabin. The squashpump didn’t take up much space, though she imagined its room was rather damp. A sob rose in her throat, but she fought it down. She refused to cry, though whether it was out of defiance or because she didn’t want to pity herself for her own mistakes, she wasn’t sure.
Chapter Twenty – Dance Up a Storm
Sitting with Audrey and the oootoon at breakfast the following day, Carrie smiled too brightly and laughed and talked too loudly. She kept glancing about, as if looking for someone, and hardly touched her breakfast. When her eyes chanced upon Dave entering the canteen, she looked quickly away before he could see her watching him. After she had allowed sufficient time for him to get his breakfast, she looked in his direction again. He wasn’t heading to her table, of course, but when she saw who he was sitting with, her spine stiffened. Belinda.
Was he sharing a cabin with her now? It made sense. The cabins for humans were large enough for two, and Belinda was a latecomer to the training course, so she would have been allocated a room all to herself. Too late, Carrie realised the half-dandrobian had seen her watching. She jerked her head away. Had Belinda smirked at her? She wasn’t sure, but her cheeks burned.
She stirred the substance in her bowl, which might have been porridge if it hadn’t tasted the same as the smell of a wet dog. She had eaten nothing for dinner and she should have been hungry, but she wasn’t. Even her persistent pot belly was showing signs of defeat.
Is something wrong? Who are you talking to? Carrie. Carrie? Who’s that? I think she’s looking peaky, wouldn’t you say? Maybe the food doesn’t agree with her. Is it the food? You can ask for something else, you know dear. Whatever it is, I hope it isn’t catching. Oh don’t be silly, we couldn’t catch a disease from a human. Is there a medic on board? You should go and—
“I’m fine,” said Carrie, pushing her chair back to stand. It screeched so loudly the whole canteen stopped talking and turned to see where the noise was coming from. “I’m just not very hungry. Do you know what we’re doing today?”
“Individual exercises,” said Audrey. “You can choose from the list, according to what you need most practice in. Transgalactic law, the art of diplomacy and some other things. I can’t remember exactly.”
The green blob’s words brought Carrie some relief. At least she wouldn’t have to face Dave and his new half-dandrobian friend in a group class. She said goodbye and left the table, but as she approached the door, Errruorerrrrrhch appeared, forcing her to step back. “Wait a moment, please,” said the Manager as she passed.
The insectoid alien rapped a table with a claw for attention. When the room had quietened, she said, “In this difficult, dangerous time, I am pleased to report some good news. Outside of Council mediation, the marsoliie have reached a new level of understanding. The Groups have agreed a moratorium on their activities, for the duration of the crisis at least. As is customary within this species, the Groups and Singles must perform a ritual dance, and we are all invited.
“Due to the current threat from the placktoids, the dance will take place directly outside the ship. The morning’s activities will be postponed in view of this unusual opportunity for you, as trainees, to observe a culture in concord, as opposed to conflict. It is important that you understand the value of your roles within the Council, and how rewarding successful mediation is.”
When Errruorerrrrrhch’s speech was over, Carrie continued to her room. She was happy for the marsoliie, but the news didn’t lighten her mood. She wasn’t cut out to be a Liaison Officer. She was going to fail the course, and the Group and Single dance would be her final sight of the species. The thought made her sad. Their movements were beautiful and mesmerising.
To kill time, she cleaned the shower room and put away her things neatly. When the cabin was clean and tidy, and she had nothing else to occupy her, she watched the ocean outside her window, where the marsoliie were gathering.
Finally, the announcement came that they were to gather at the airlocks. Carrie quickly put on her swimsuit and wetsuit and grabbed her Officer toolbox, checking she had respirator tablets and the rest of her equipment. In the corridor, she saw Dave. He tried to catch her eye, but she looked away. The memory of his words still echoed in her mind.
When she was outside the ship, the cool ocean water soon warmed against her skin. Swimming relaxed her a little, as it always did. The sight of the swelling ranks of marsoliie also lightened her heart. Their pulsating passage was graceful, complex and delicate as they travelled the currents.
Audrey arrived and bumped her. “Can you see it?”
She looked around. What did Audrey mean? All she could see was the creamy ceramic Council ship, the staff and trainees and the marsoliie. “What?”
“Over there.”
This phrase seemed redundant to Carrie. Audrey was pretty much a sphere, with no appendages to point with, but she bobbed in one direction and back again. Carrie looked the way she indicated, but she could see nothing but ocean. Unless? She squinted and looked again. A patch of water didn’t seem to quite match its surroundings, as if something were there that looked almost, but not quite, the same as the rest of the ocean. “The Unity gunship?” It was camouflaged in the same way as the military uniforms.
Audrey bobbed up and down in affirmation. “And the soldiers have come out
to watch the display, too, I think. It’s hard to tell, but there might be some just there.” As she spoke, a soldier drifted in front of the Council ship and became briefly visible.
An idea sparked in Carrie’s mind. Maybe she could do as Belinda had done, and become a soldier? But no, she couldn’t risk it. If Dave was right about her faults, she definitely wasn’t soldier material.
The marsoliie Groups and Singles were gathered into one large crowd, and no more seemed to be arriving. The Council airlocks opened, and the managers came out, each insectoid alien encased in an individual bubble of air. Audience and performers were ready. The Dance began.
***
Carrie knew she would never forget that performance. Without any apparent signal, the marsoliie lifted as one in a glorious scarlet fountain that then split apart like a stupendous firework, spraying across the ocean. Each segment the movement created turned in on itself before opening out in sequence, creating unique, oscillating crimson snowflakes, which flowed and coalesced again into one. As the Dance continued, Carrie began to feel dizzy. She realised she had stopped breathing. She inhaled, and gasped as the marsoliie began another movement, faster and more complex than anything she had seen up to that point. And just when Carrie thought the Dance could not become more stunningly beautiful, the marsoliie wreathed themselves in threads of silver that shimmered in the ocean shadows, catching the rippling beams from above.
Carrie couldn’t remember when or why she began to move. It was an effect of watching the marsoliie performance for sure. One moment she was motionless, transfixed, floating in the water, and the next she was dancing, her limbs clumsily mimicking the exquisite motion of the aliens she was watching. She was transported to another world, where she was one with the marsoliie. A Group or a Single, it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was participating in the magnificent Dance.
Something bumped her. It was Audrey. “What are you doing? Everyone’s watching you.”
Broken from her trance, Carrie finally saw the Council staff and trainees were no longer regarding the marsoliie, but had turned towards her. She quickly drew in her limbs and cringed. With a heart of lead, she heard Dave’s words again. She was being impulsive. She had been carried away in the moment, not thinking about what she was doing.
A manager came swimming over, his ten pairs of legs working the water. “Please be more careful, Carrie.” It was Gavin. “You must remember that what to humans is mere personal physical expression, carries meaning to the marsoliie. They are perhaps concentrating too much on their own dance to observe yours at the moment, but you could have accidentally communicated something that would cause great offence.”
Carrie swallowed. “Yes, you’re right, I’m sorry.”
Another voice crackled in Carrie radio. It was unfamiliar, but authoritative, loud and urgent. “Get back. Placktoids approaching rapidly. Council staff, back to your ship.” It was the Unity captain.
Through a break in the disintegrating marsoliie ranks, Carrie glimpsed the metallic forms of the placktoids closing in. Beams shot out in the darkness. The Unity troops were firing the new weapons, but the placktoids were hidden behind the fleeing marsoliie. The troops fired only intermittently as the mechanical aliens drew closer.
The Council ship airlocks were open, and the managers and trainees swam hastily towards them. Before any of them arrived at the ship, something dark shot out, and like a massive, black, many-fingered fist, and the Council staff shuddered. The dark object was a net. It exploded into the marsoliie, enclosing hundreds. As quickly as it had appeared, the net closed. The struggling marsoliie fought and surged within as they were forced closer and closer together. Tightening into a ball of scarlet crossed with black lines, the captured marsoliie were being drawn away into the murky depths.
Chapter Twenty-One – Placktoid Proposal
The Unity gunship had clearly been anticipating an attack. Those few soldiers Audrey and Carrie had spotted were just a ruse to encourage the placktoids to think they were being complacent or they were unaware of the mechanical aliens’ presence. From behind the gunship, quickly blending with the ocean around them, Unity fighter ships rose, firing as they came.
Carrie’s mouth fell open as the laser beams shot through the water. She had never seen a battle before. All her life she’d watched and enjoyed scifi TV shows and films, but what was happening in front of her was real. Too real.
“Into the ship, into the ship,” called Errruorerrrrrhch.
Swimming away from the fighting, Carrie couldn’t resist looking over her shoulder as she followed the other trainees to the airlocks. The marsoliie that hadn’t been caught in the net were scattering. Panicked, their movements were uncoordinated and clumsy. They couldn’t move out of the way quickly enough, and as the placktoids returned fire, several were caught in their rays and burst into ragged scarlet explosions, a cruel mockery of their earlier Dance.
Carrie wailed at the sight of the destroyed marsoliie. The Unity fighters zoomed up and around, in and out of the marsoliie, seemingly trying to avoid hitting the innocent civilians. Meanwhile the massive net of trapped Groups and Singles, hopelessly entangled in the thick black wires, withdrew into the distance.
The soldiers must have already returned to the Unity ship for it rose through the water, its fighter ships following it. As the vessels breached the surface, the cascade of current and bubbles knocked Carrie away from the airlocks. They were all open, but she didn’t know for how long. The Council staff were crowding in. When they were full they would have to close them to allow the occupants to enter the ship. She kicked her fins powerfully against the downward drag, propelling herself closer.
The nearest airlock was closing. She would never make it before it shut, so she swam as quickly as she could to the next, scooting under its closing door just in time. The wait inside the lock, as the water drained out and air entered, was agonising. As soon as the inner door opened wide enough for her to pass through she was under it and out into the corridor, pulling off her helmet and stripping her wetsuit as she went.
Pushing back her wet hair from her face, she ran to the nearest porthole. The ocean was still filled with scattering marsoliie. Through and beyond them, the placktoids fled, the huge net of marsoliie bobbing above their heads. In the distance, the ocean parted as Unity ships plunged in from above. Unable to fire directly down without hitting the captured marsoliie, they aimed at the placktoids laterally.
The scene became smaller, and Carrie realised the Council ship had started up and was withdrawing from the battle site. She pushed her face against the porthole, straining to see what was happening. There was a flash of light from the placktoids, followed by a massive boom. She gasped as the light hit the solid form of the Unity gunship and poured over it, enveloping it.
Then the shock wave came. The remaining marsoliie were hit first. Shattered to confetti they flew apart. Carrie grasped her mouth as a sob rose in her throat. The wave hit the ship, and she was thrown from her feet. Her head hit the wall opposite. She was spreadeagled across it as the wave lifted the ship and turned it on its side.
Trainees, Managers and other staff throughout the corridor sprawled and staggered. As the ship tipped further, Carrie wondered whether the shock wave would turn it right over. But gradually the ship righted itself and she found her feet again. As soon as she was upright, she ran back to the porthole. The battle scene was farther distant. The marsoliie were red dots. The placktoids were glints. The Unity ships were not to be seen. Carrie hoped with all her heart that they hadn’t suffered serious damage. Errruorerrrrrhch had said the gunship didn’t have the firepower to defeat the placktoids, and she had been right.
“Are you okay?”
Carrie turned to see Dave’s anxious face. “Yes, I’m fine. And you?”
“Yes, not too bad. That was one hell of an experience.”
“And Belinda? And everyone else?”
“It looks like everyone made it back safely.”
“Thank goodness.”
“Yeah.”
There was a pause. Carrie had so much to say, but then again there were no words for how she felt. All her anger at Dave, her embarrassment, her hurt, all of it melted away as she realised she could have lost her best friend. “Dave, I’m—”
He held out his arms, and they hugged.
***
The trainees were left in limbo with vague orders to tidy up and be on full alert while the senior staff dealt with the crisis. According to the grapevine, they were in frantic communication with the Unity gunship and Council and Unity Central Offices. Carrie was relieved to learn the gunship had quickly withdrawn once it became clear there was nothing they could do to free the captured marsoliie. Consequently, there were no serious casualties among the Unity soldiers.
When everything had been put to rights and there was nothing left for the trainees to do, they gathered in the canteen, where they speculated about what would happen next. The general consensus was that they should just leave immediately. Carrie was against the idea. She wanted them to do something to help. The Council didn’t have the combative abilities of the Unity, but it did possess the skills of mediation and negotiation, which were sometimes more effective than firepower, she argued.
She couldn’t erase from her mind the image of the trapped marsoliie. Anxiety ran through her at the thought of them. She was compelled to do something, anything to free them. But she wondered if maybe it was only her impulsiveness talking. She was on remedial training, and she was going to fail even that. Maybe she should leave the action to people who knew better than her, and wait for orders.