Ardulum

by J. S. Fields

  Emn stepped towards the door and paused just before it, considering her options. She knew it was unlikely that her isolation in the hallway would continue—eventually, she would need to find cover. Without extensive energy reserves, she couldn’t readily defend herself and certainly couldn’t sync with the ship. That meant she had no way of knowing where she was going, and she couldn’t read any of the Risalian scripts near the doors, which might indicate what lay behind them. She would have to go inside somewhere, find a quiet corner, and begin manipulating cellulose. Now seemed like as good a time as any.

  Emn reached for the handle. The door opened easily as it was pulled open from the other side. Not expecting the lack of resistance, Emn stumbled forward into a gray-tunic Risalian, who reached out to steady her.

  “Hey, everyone,” xe called out in Common towards several tables. The Risalians all looked up immediately, their dinners forgotten. “Did someone let the Ardulan out for a walk?”

  “Probably wandered off,” one answered from the back of the room. “Go take her back to the holding area.”

  “Aren’t there supposed to be Dulan fields around those cells?” another asked.

  The Risalian holding Emn looked down at her. She stared back defiantly through her good eye, only for the Risalian’s gaze to fall from her face to the gun handle hanging from her dress front. Emn realized suddenly that it would be very unusual for an Ardulan to have a gun.

  “I got lost,” she said, trying to sound scared. “Can you help me get back?”

  Off to Emn’s right, an eating utensil clattered to the floor. There were several coughs, a chair tipping over, and then silence. Every Risalian was staring directly at her, food forgotten. Ardulans didn’t talk. She probably should have remembered that.

  “That thing just spoke,” one said.

  Hir table companion, a slightly taller Risalian with pale blue skin, smacked the other on the shoulder. “She has a gun. Clearly something has gone wrong.”

  The Risalian Emn had bumped into took a few steps back, hands raised in front of hir face. “Look, girl, why don’t you give me that gun, and we’ll walk you back to your room, okay?”

  They’re afraid of me, she thought with satisfaction. But there are a lot of them. Too many to shoot. I have to be smart.

  Emn chanced a quick look around. There were four energy ports, all located near the food service area, and all bordered by metal mesh. She could see the cellulose coursing over the surface, sparkling dimly in the light. It had a heavy enough concentration to give her a substantial boost without having to spend excessive amounts of time harvesting strands. The closest port was only a few steps away, but a Risalian stood between her and her goal.

  Emn opened her good eye wide and slowly pulled the gun from her dress. She offered it to the Risalian on small, open palms. Xe took it gingerly, with only two fingers, as if Emn had poisoned it somehow. Emn suppressed a giggle. The only things on the gun were the remains of another Risalian.

  “There now,” the gray-tunic Risalian said as xe holstered the gun on hir side, locking it in place. “How did you get this?”

  “Don’t know. The shimmery thing went away. No one came. I walked outside to find someone, but no one was there. The black thing was in a locker near the room. I didn’t know what it was, so I took it.”

  The Risalian eyed Emn skeptically, hir eyes drawn to the dried blood. Emn watched as hir neck slits bloomed to lilac.

  “Hey, Aarn,” another Risalian called from the back of the galley. “Why don’t you just take her to Captain Ran? I’m sure the captain can sort it all out. Above our rank, you know.”

  Aarn turned around to face the seated Risalians. Emn watched the back of Aarn’s neck phase from lilac to lavender and then slowly creep to violet. “Don’t any of you think it’s kind of strange though…? She’s talking. She’s wearing clothes. It’s like she’s…like she’s an adult, you know. Not like an Ardulan at all.” Aarn’s voice lowered. “It’s like she’s sentient.”

  Emn took the opportunity to pretend to lose her balance, inching a step closer to the port.

  Some of the Risalians shifted uncomfortably in their seats, and a low murmuring began. “Your examination score doesn’t qualify you to ask those questions,” another Risalian called out. “Just shut up and take her back. Markin’ll send you to a reeducation center so fast your slits won’t have time to color if they find out otherwise, I’ll bet.”

  Aarn’s neck was almost black as xe turned back to Emn. The girl kept her eyes wide, her face confused.

  “Yeah. I heard what happened to Captain Ran.” Aarn gestured to the door. “C’mon, girl,” xe said in a kind voice. “Why don’t we take you back before anyone finds out you’re missing.” Xe offered hir hand to Emn.

  Emn had to make a decision. She was a solid lunge away from the port and thought perhaps she could avoid the Risalian with an unexpected bolt. However, the kindness in the Risalian’s words tugged at her. A part of her wanted to take Aarn’s hand—have Aarn tell her that things would be fine.

  She blinked a few times and realized Aarn was looking at her quizzically. “Everything all right there, little Ardulan?” xe asked.

  Emn reached her hand out, fingers just touching Aarn’s, when another utensil clattered to the floor. She startled as an image of her mother’s skull—and then the dead Risalian’s—flashed across her vision.

  Risalians couldn’t be trusted. Risalians would kill her, and they would kill Neek. Resolute, she batted Aarn’s hand away and lunged for the port. Emn thumped against the ground as her lunge came up several meters short and then scrambled onto her hands and knees, closing the distance. She launched her fists at the port, crashing against the wall in a bruising impact. Crystalline cellulose chains stopped their movements, and Emn targeted the closest ones, pulling them into thick cords. Bonds formed. Energy began to flow into her, and the lights in the mess dimmed as Emn rerouted the cellulose from the systems nearest her. Emn dove deeper into the systems, pulling and coiling every piece of cellulose she could find.

  Chaos immediately erupted. She opened her eyes as the energy flowed into her to see Aarn’s face melt into concentrated anger. Guns appeared from holsters throughout the room, all pointing directly at Emn. One Risalian ran to the comm and began tapping the screen furiously.

  Emn stayed glued to the wall. Guns remained trained on her. No one spoke or gave orders. They’re so scared, she thought, amused, as more cellulose flooded to her. No one is doing anything. So I’ll do something.

  Emn closed her eyes briefly and focused on healing her wounds—the swollen eye and the gashes on her face and arm all disappeared. Walls began to buckle. The ceiling bowed, and the lights went out for good.

  “The first commands that she not be harmed!” a voice called out from the comm station. Emn looked towards the sound but found it hard to see. The starlight from the window was poor illumination.

  “Does the first have a suggested course of action?” Aarn shot back. “The girl is glowing.”

  Emn looked down at herself. There did seem to be a lot more light near her than anywhere else—which was funny, because she didn’t know what was causing it.

  The comm buzzed. “We’re to contain her until backup arrives. A team is on its way.”

  Aarn turned back to Emn, hir voice soothing. “How about we all just stay calm? No need to do anything foolish.”

  “I’m not going to do anything foolish.” Cellulose was swarming her now, the pieces she had not yet bound coating her very skin. Unnerved, Emn pushed at them, trying to make them back off, but it only pushed strands into one another. The cellulose coiled faster, forming bonds more quickly than Emn could detail. Energy coursed through Emn’s body and sizzled from her hair and feet. She felt the capillaries under her skin begin to burst, the energy too much for them to carry. The room began to grow warm, and the vibration of the ship slowed and then stopped altogether. They were no longer moving.

  “Stop it.” Aarn pointed the gun
at Emn’s feet. “Or we will shoot you.”

  “No,” Emn replied as calmly as she could. She stood up and began walking towards the door. The port was no longer of use to her. She’d sent her commands throughout the ship, and the cellulose was speeding to her from bow to stern—following her like little ducks, snapping as they neared her body.

  Aarn took a deep breath and fired a warning shot that went straight towards Emn’s heels. She watched the shot connect with her feet and felt a tingling as the cellulose from the laser bound to the loose strands that surrounded her, feeding into her energy pool.

  Emn smiled. That was unexpected. Aarn’s mouth hung agape, and xe dropped the gun, standing transfixed and motionless.

  Emn wasn’t sure who fired the next shot, but suddenly multiple blasts were singing through the air. Smoke began to fill the room from the discharge, and a burnt metal smell assaulted Emn’s nostrils. She took a step back and watched with growing curiosity as the shots were absorbed upon impact, one right after the other.

  Ping. A beam hit her hip. Ping ping. Two hit her shoulder. Another four crashed into her chest. Emn wobbled on her feet, the force of multiple blows throwing off her balance. Formed microfibrils now surrounded her so thickly that she was having a hard time seeing. Emn tried to continue towards the door, but each new shot shoved her slightly in another direction. Her mind hurt from the strain of holding it all together—the formed and free cellulose and the mass of energy circling her. The strands from the ship kept coming, and the laser shots were incessant. The energy swamped her system and threatened to overwhelm her. She wasn’t quite sure what would happen if she lost control.

  Pushing some of the extra energy into her legs, Emn tried to sprint to the door. Another gunshot caught her in the back and propelled her farther, slamming her small body against the doorjamb. Something sparked off the metal as Emn tried to right herself. She couldn’t feel her legs.

  Emn whimpered. She knew where she needed to go—her connection to the port had allowed her access to the ship’s schematic. As the bolts continued to sizzle against her, it was becoming increasingly apparent that she wasn’t going to make it. Frantic, Emn dropped to her knees and tried to establish a connection to Neek. She was far away, Emn knew, but with so much energy at her disposal, it certainly seemed possible. She didn’t have anything to lose.

  Neek! Emn screamed into her own head. She pushed the thought as far as she could, using the continued energy inputs from the guns to propel the message out—out of herself, out of the ship to…she didn’t know where. She shot the message in every direction, amplifying it with as much energy as she could gather. Neek, I don’t know what to do!

  No response came. Emn hadn’t expected one, not really, but she realized then that Neek wasn’t anywhere. The lingering presence Emn had come to expect in the back of her mind was gone. She’d not even noticed it leaving.

  Emn was vaguely aware of voices around her; some close—some far. She continued to smell burnt metal as the laser fire diminished and finally stopped. Had someone else come into the room? Her vision was so fuzzy that she couldn’t tell. All she felt was the energy current. All she saw was a haze of cellulose, spinning into a thick shroud. Emn tried to gather the energy and strands together around her, but tendrils kept whipping off, bleeding into the air and disappearing.

  A jolt to her physical body shook her out of her mind and brought her back to the present. Hands were trying to grab her and were drawing back with pained hisses. Nevertheless, the Risalians were persistent, clutching and dragging her back into the hallway in short bursts. Through her clouded vision, Emn realized in what direction they were headed: back to the cell. She panicked, the control she maintained over the wild energy surrounding her wavering. She had to get rid of the excess energy. It would rip her body apart, or possibly her mind, if she kept trying to maintain control. There was more cellulose on the ship than she had anticipated—more strands arriving each second.

  Terrified at what losing control of the power would mean, Emn did the only thing she could think of. She focused, took a deep breath, and pushed as hard as she could, sending the energy and cellulose away from her small form. She sent it to the place where Neek’s presence used to linger in her mind. The pilot could use the energy, surely. It would heal the stomach wound Emn had caused. Make everything right again. Maybe.

  The current snapped and hissed from around her body and then shot out in waves. Emn watched with detached fascination as the white current sizzled along the curling metal of bulkheads, over the broken floor, and below the buckled ceiling, passing through the crumbling metal of the ship’s confines.

  Neek! she screamed into her head. Neek! Neek, where are you?

  Eyelids heavy and ears ringing, she processed the smell of burning wood and, just underneath it, seared flesh. No matter how loudly she yelled, or how much energy she pushed into a seemingly endless abyss, she still couldn’t find Neek. She was too tired to keep trying, the smoke around her too thick to breathe.

  Emn gave in and let her consciousness slip away, the scent of burning skin following her into darkness.

  Chapter 17: Neek

  “…confirmed. Repeat, our news team has confirmed that fifteen ships of unknown origin were spotted entering the Callis Wormhole. Their exit point is unknown. All species of the Charted Systems are urged to remain calm and report any incidents of unusual activity to the nearest Risalian peace force.

  —Network broadcast within the Charted Systems, October 23rd, 2060 CE

  The Ardulan stared at the dead woman in front of her. Medics moved around purposefully, inspecting charts, muttering to themselves, and occasionally lifting the black cloth to peer at the body underneath. While watching, she processed the antiseptic smell of the room and the dull yellow lighting that reflected off the polished wood surfaces. She felt the texture of the chair she sat on, cool and smooth. The impressions filtered into her mind and back out, barely registering.

  There was a thought in the back of her mind, playing around the edges. She couldn’t remember how the Neek woman had died, or how they had both ended up in the room. The woman seemed like she might be familiar—the image of her face just beyond her grasp. Instead, swirling fog filled her mind’s eye and chased the feeling into the far recesses of her mind.

  No instructions had been given, so the Ardulan sat patiently as she’d been taught. Sit. Do nothing. Wait for instructions. Words she understood in Common and Risalian. Now, for some unknown reason, her hands moved, fingertips sliding over the fabric of the dress. Even the smell of the room, which hurt her nose, was taken in and assessed. However fleeting, her senses were open, aware, and processing the sensory information as it became available.

  A new medic entered then—a large one with pale skin and unruly brown hair barely contained under a surgeon’s hat. A younger medic followed, covered from head to toe in scrubs without a single centimeter of skin showing. The bigger one handed a small, round chip to a doctor, who played a recording in a far corner outside the woman’s field of view. He returned shortly, nodded at the big medic, gathered several instruments, and, motioning for his colleagues to follow, left the room.

  “Whew!” a youthful voice murmured from underneath swaths of material after the last of the original medics left. The woman watched as white cloth was pulled away, revealing dark brown skin, brown eyes, and curly hair. The bigger man did the same, revealing more unruly brown curls and a wide smile.

  “Hello,” the large man said gently, making his way over the woman. “My name is Captain Yorden Kuebrich, of Mercy’s Pledge. This is Nicholas St. John, my, uh, gunner.”

  The young man’s posture straightened.

  “We don’t mean you any harm. We’ve gone to a great deal of trouble to break into this facility, and I’m afraid we’re a little short on time. Maybe you could help us. We’re looking for a friend—a tall woman with sort of blonde-red hair and green eyes. Copper skin. Strong temperament. We think she might be somewhere nearby.” Y
orden paused and looked quizzically at the woman. “Do you understand what I am saying?” He looked at her dress and then at her Talent markings through the opening in the side. His face clouded. “Ardulans everywhere now, apparently,” the captain muttered.

  The woman’s eyes remained pointed straight ahead, unblinking. She nodded in assent and listened carefully.

  “She looks like Emn,” Nicholas breathed, cautiously taking a few steps closer to the woman. “Same dress and everything.” The youth also looked at the opening in her dress and whistled. “Aggression Talent? Myth angle isn’t working out so well, is it?”

  “The Pledge’s sensors picked up engine residue consistent with Risalian transports when we flew here.” The captain’s eyes scoured the woman’s face. “Chances are she’s another construct. Neek should be able to help us sort it out when we find her.”

  “That’d explain the tattoos then, but not why Risalians are constructing Neek gods.”

  Yorden considered the woman again. “You understand Common?”

  The woman nodded again.

  “The woman I described, have you seen her?”

  The woman shook her head. There were no faces in her mind, just the smells of the room, the brightness of the lights, and her perception of the weapons the two men had brought with them.

  “Worth a shot.” Yorden gestured to Nicholas. “You are admittedly better with cellulosic technology than I am. See if you can’t log onto the computer system from the medical comm and find our Neek’s whereabouts.”

  She watched the smaller man turn, head for the computer, and then sidestep to the table where the dead Neek lay. He hesitated but then peered under the sheet. When he turned around, his posture was rigid, his face ashen.

  “Look at dead bodies later,” the captain barked. “We have a job to do, remember?”

  “I think you should look, Captain.”

  Scowling, Yorden took a quick step and ripped the sheet away. Underneath lay the Neek, her face a mass of tissue. One side remained intact, the expression frozen in surprise. The other half was scorched black, the dull light of the morgue glinting off the exposed yellow skull.