by Ashe Barker
She jumps to her feet as we enter. Apart from when she first became ill again, this is the only time we have both been here together. She is used to dealing with us one at a time I suppose, but that will change.
“Sylvan tells me you’re much recovered now. Is that right, Llianna?” I deliberately keep my tone low and even. This is not about anger, and I have no need to shout to intimidate this little alien. She’s already starting to tremble as her gaze flicks from one to the other of us.
“I… yes, much better. Thank you. You have been very kind, both of you…”
“You’re welcome. So now, we need to talk about what happened.”
“I do not understand…”
She’s lying, we all know that, and playing for time probably. She knows full well what this is about, but for the avoidance of doubt I see no harm in restating the issues here.
“You tampered with the scanner in order to make us think you were recovering from the virus. You deliberately concealed the fact that you required further treatment, and as a result you almost lost your life.” I pause, allow her the opportunity to take issue with my account of events, to deny her actions, or the deliberate intent of what she did. Llianna remains silent, her gaze directed to the floor now. “Do you have anything to say, Llianna? Anything to tell us?”
She shakes her head.
“Did you realise how serious the consequences could be?” Sylvan moves forward to cup her chin in his hand and tilt her face up to meet his gaze. “Did you intend to kill yourself?”
Llianna chews on her lower lip as tears stream unchecked across her cheeks.
“Answer me, Llianna. Did you try to kill yourself?”
She nods.
“So you knew what you were doing?”
Again, she nods. “Yes,” she whispers. “I knew.”
“Why? Why did you do something like that?” I try to keep the exasperation from my tone, but I suspect I fail at that.
“I do not know. I just…it seemed the right thing to do. The best thing… for everyone.”
I am fast losing my patience. “Who do you mean, everyone? There are only we three involved in this and it certainly wasn’t what Sylvan or I wanted.”
“I realise that now, but at the time…” She goes silent, her glistening gaze flicking from Sylvan to me and back again. “I am sorry, truly.”
I recall our doubts, our uncertainty about her mental state. “What do you mean … at the time? What was different a week ago?”
“I am not certain, but it just was. I felt… despairing, as though I had no future, no purpose. It seemed the right thing to do. But then I woke up and you were there, both of you. I heard you talking, you were angry and I felt so ashamed. And I was frightened because I knew you were going to punish me. I remembered what I had done, but I was no longer so sure why. I didn’t feel so desperate by then, but I was still very sad.”
“And now? How do you feel about your situation now?” Sylvan manages a gentler tone than I did, and I note that his hand still cradles her face.
“I am still frightened. And alone. There are no more Fyorlians… I am the last.”
I regard her carefully for several moments, assessing, then I lift my gaze to meet Sylvan’s eyes. “That’s true, your people are gone, but you’re not on your own. Have we both become invisible? And Eric?”
A flicker of confusion crosses her features. “No, of course not. I can see you perfectly well.”
Sylvan glances across at me and frowns. “What my insensitive friend here means is, you have us now so you won’t be alone. We’ll take care of you until you decide what you want to do, where you want to go.”
“You will?”
“Yes, we will. You can rely on that, but we will require your promise that you will never do anything to put yourself in danger again. If you feel unhappy or lonely or whatever it was that drove you to act as you did, you need to talk to us, tell us what you need. Even if you don’t know what it is you need, tell us anyway. Have you got that?”
“But if I do not know—”
I cut her off. “You tell us. Clear?” My tone is harsh, sharper than I intended, but what the fuck? This needs to sink in.
Her eyes widen. “Yes. That is clear. Thank you.”
Now it’s my turn to nod. I can’t claim to fully understand what happened, but I’ve heard enough to convince me that whatever it was, it was a temporary aberration and we should move on. That hairbrush won’t be pressed into service after all.
Sylvan manages a tight smile. “Right, so now that’s settled, we have other business to deal with.”
“Settled? I do not understand. What business? What do you intend to do to me?”
“Do? Nothing. We—”
“What I did was wrong, I know that but I have apologised. You have no need to punish me. And no right.” She tilts her chin up and dislodges Sylvan’s fingers, then steps away from him, from both of us. She crouches beside Eric who has been stationed beside her bed and flings her arms about him. If the rabbit is surprised by this sudden display of affection he manages to conceal it well enough, and remains perfectly still while she hugs him.
Her words might hint at contrition but when she tilts back her head to look at us again, her expression now is pure belligerence. “You should not do this just because you can.”
Sylvan opens his mouth to speak, to reassure her, but I forestall him. I have been the harsher in my dealings with her so I think she needs to hear this from me.
“Llianna, we have no intention of harming you, and neither will we punish you for something that was not your fault. We believe that your actions may have been a symptom of your illness and as such you couldn’t help what you did. We could be wrong about this, but we are giving you the benefit of the doubt because it is the fairest course to take, and because whatever you might think right now we are not abusers of defenceless females. Yes, we could punish you, and we will if it is needed, but we would never do so unjustly. Is that clear?”
“So, you do not intend to punish me?” She seems genuinely astonished.
“No, we do not. Not for this. But be assured, you will not be let off so lightly again. You’re going to be with us for a while and we intend to make sure you are safe. That’s why we need that promise from you and we will have it. Do you promise to obey us, and not to do anything which might put you in harm’s way again?”
“Obey you?”
“Yes,” affirms Sylvan. “Obey us. This is our ship and we call the shots here. Disobedience will earn you a punishment, and it will hurt. We won’t harm you, or injure you, but you can expect a hard spanking if that’s what it takes to keep you safe. Do you understand this?”
“Yes, I understand your words, but what if I do not agree to your terms? What if I make no such promise to you?”
“You have no real choice, do you?” I point out. “And it won’t be forever. You’re not a prisoner, we have no wish to hurt or frighten you. You are our guest, and welcome to share our ship until such time as we can transport you to a place where you will be safe and can leave us. The closest interstellar hub is several months away from this location, so even if we were to change course and head for that we’re stuck with each other for a while. So this is how it’s going to be whether you like it or not.”
“I have never… I mean, on Fyorli there was no physical punishment. I do not think—”
“We will never harm you. You can trust us, Llianna. We are asking for your promise, for the duration of this voyage, that’s all. Can you give us that?”
She is silent. Long moments pass and I hold her gaze. Sylvan, too, remains quiet. Eric shifts and Llianna loosens her embrace about his neck to allow him to hop off, his bouncing gait lending just a hint of amusement to these grim proceedings.
It occurs to me that Llianna is not the only one facing limited choices. If she refuses to accept our authority, we’ll be reduced to locking her in this cabin and instructing CAID to monitor her every movement and this time we�
��ll make sure he knows we expect him to damned well report on it. Maybe I should point that out…
“Very well, I accept. I will obey you for the time I am aboard your ship. And… I must also thank you for your hospitality and your care. I do not wish to appear ungrateful, it is just…”
I reach for her and pull her close in to my chest. “We know. We do get it, Llianna. So from here on, we understand each other, yes?”
She nods against my shirt, her brief flirtation with assertiveness seemingly at an end. A pity. Both Sylvan and I appreciate a bit of backbone. I hope we haven’t crushed hers.
Llianna rubs against me and lets out a short hiss.
“What’s the matter?” I ask.
“My arms…” she begins, “they feel odd.”
I take her hands and turn them to expose the inner flesh of her bare arms. The skin is reddened, raised blotches are appearing, swelling as we watch.
“And my face…”
The rash is appearing there also, on her chin and left cheek. Sylvan cups her chin, turns her face toward him and frowns.
“Classic contact allergy, I’d say. Was that the first time you actually touched Eric?”
“No, I do not think…” She pauses, then, “Yes, I suppose it was. He is here much of the time though, I have become accustomed to him.”
“I can run some tests to be certain, but it looks to me like you have a reaction to his fur. Not airborne, not something you breathe in, so it seems to be okay for you to be near him, just not to actually touch him.”
“But… I like him.”
“If it is just a contact allergy we can work with that as long as you remember not to touch him, or to wear gloves if you do. With luck it won’t get worse, but best not to aggravate matters. Do you understand?”
She nods. “Yes. I am not to touch the rabbit.”
Sylvan appears satisfied. “Go take a shower to rinse off any allergens on your skin. If the reaction doesn’t subside quickly I’ll do another link-up to provide you with the leukotriene inhibitors you need to suppress the reaction.”
Llianna scuttles off, clearly eager to rid herself of the irritants on her skin while Eric watches dispassionately from beneath the bed, as though not sure what all the fuss is about.
“You might well sit there pretending to be all innocent,” I growl.
“So, as I was saying before you needed to rush off, we have other business to attend to.” Sylvan launches straight back in as soon as Llianna returns from her ablutions. “Top of the list, a suitable resting place for your companions who were on board the Renacient. We’ve transferred the remains into a degradable casket and if you’re ready, Llianna, we can deposit it into space. Luca and I thought you might prefer to do that before we leave this quadrant…”
“Oh, yes, of course. That is very considerate. I believe they would wish that.”
“The casket is stored in one of our transport bays so if you’re ready we could deal with the formalities now.”
“Now? But, I really should wear something more suitable. More… formal.”
“It’s fortunate then that we brought some of your belongings over from the Renascient, including the clothing from the cabin where we found you. We assumed it was yours.”
“Some of it was, but most of the garments were the possessions of our commander. I took over her accommodation after she died and I was the only one left.” She shifts, looks uncomfortable. “I felt that I had become the captain at that stage.”
“Sounds reasonable,” I state. “The clothing is yours now. Select the items you intend to keep; we can dispose of the rest.”
“Thank you. Where…?” She peers around her as though her possessions might magically appear.
“In our stores. CAID, could you transport the three packing cases from cache eleven point zero to this location, please?”
Moments later the trio of small containers materialises beside us. I step aside to allow Llianna to flick open the lid on the one closest to her.
“Oh, my books. And my work. You brought my notes over. Thank you. Thank you so much.” She kneels beside the trunk, pulling a variety of devices and other items out. She examines each then sets them carefully on the floor beside her.
Sylvan and I exchange a puzzled shrug. The items appeared to us to be bits of junk, relics of some sort, lumps of twisted, rusted metal with no obvious use of value. We packed them up and brought them to the Zephyrean because they were in her cabin and obviously meant something to Llianna. It seems we got that right. She activates one of the small handheld devices, a tablet of some description though the characters that appear on the screen are nothing I recognise. It’s obvious that Llianna does though and she toggles quickly from one display on the screen to the next.
Sylvan crouches beside her and picks up a charred piece of rock. “You said this is your work, your notes. What work do you do, Llianna?”
She looks up at him, then at me. “I am an archaeologist.”
“An archaeologist? What sort of archaeologist? And what the fuck does an archaeologist find to do out here in deep space?”
Her features take on a pained and perhaps somewhat haughty expression. At once I regret my hasty exclamation.
“As far as I am aware there is just one sort of archaeologist and that is a scientist who makes a study of past civilisations based upon the artefacts they leave behind. I am such a scientist, and this is my work. The mission of my ship, the task for my comrades and myself, was to recreate the Fyorlian species if we could by means of cloning technology, and also to collect and catalogue any remnants of our heritage that we were able to find. These items are all artefacts from the lost world of Fyorli, collected and salvaged from the fragments of rock which remained after the meteor struck. This is all that remains of the history of my people. These items are precious, they speak of a civilisation wiped out, a people all gone. I owe it to them to record what I am able, to share it with… with…”
Her voice has risen, she is angry and defensive, and I am at once sorry.
“Hey, hey, honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to trivialise your work. I was just surprised, that’s all.”
“Surprised? You thought me a biologist, perhaps?”
I shrug. In truth, I never considered the matter. Neither did Sylvan as far as I know.
“After the observances for your lost comrades, perhaps you could explain to us what you have here. We’d both like to understand.”
“Would you? Why? Fyorli is not your concern. There is nothing more to be done, except…”
“It matters to you, so that makes it our concern. Right, Sylvan?”
“Oh, yes,” he agrees, “dead right.”
* * *
The funeral, if that’s the correct term for it, goes ahead without incident. Sylvan and I wait in the companionway for Llianna to emerge from her cabin, and when she does so she is clad in what we gather to be the formal dress uniform of a Fyorlian scientific fleet officer. The garment is quite exquisite, a tunic and leggings in a vivid shade of aquamarine that hug her figure religiously. The fabric is cut away to reveal the curious markings on her shoulders and back, which have changed colour yet again. The delicate pattern is now picked out in vaguely autumnal shades of oranges and reds, though I doubt that description will mean anything to Llianna.
I resolve to reopen our conversation on the subject of her markings as soon as possible because I really do want to know a lot more about this ‘unmated’ status of hers. If I have anything to do with it, she won’t remain unmated for much longer, and I suspect Sylvan shares my view.
We make our way to the transport bay and both Sylvan and I stand back in silence as Llianna approaches the sealed casket. She lays her hand on the top, quietly studies each of the names etched into the plaque on the lid, the only part of the casket that will not break down over time. At some stage, eventually, this nameplate might be found by future travellers to this quadrant and the names of the individuals commemorated by it will still be t
here, their story contained within the tiny phonic cell embedded into the plaque.
Llianna straightens, and we step forward to stand on either side of her. She declines the opportunity to speak, so I intone a selection from a poet well known on our own home world. The words seem appropriate for such an occasion.
“Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tear
Looms the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate
I am the captain of my soul.”
“Thank you,” murmurs Llianna. “I like that.”
I reach for her hand, cold and fragile. “Don’t thank me. Thank W.E. Henley. He was a poet, who lived on Earth almost a thousand years ago. His words are timeless, though.”
She nods, and I bow my head and wait for a few moments to allow for the usual quiet reflection. Then I raise my gaze once more. “CAID, please deposit the casket into space.”
The coffin shimmers, then dematerialises. Llianna lets out a strangled sob and we both reach for her. Sylvan and I are not given to group hugs, but that’s what we do now, united in sharing this painful moment with our grieving guest. Ultimately, it’s all we can do.
Chapter Five
Sylvan
“Did we do the right thing, do you think?” I stretch out my legs and prop my feet on the console before me. Our course is set, CAID is in control of the Zephyrean so Luca and I can relax. He lounges beside me, a mug of Acheric coffee in his hand. Personally I don’t much care for the stuff, it keeps me awake for days, but Luca keeps a store on board.