by Chris Reher
“Wars. Enemies came from the other planet.” The Jur raised his hands and described something orbiting around something else. “We have one sun, two planets. They had many planes and weapons and we had few. They destroyed much. Our people were dying and we had nowhere to go. To hide from the invaders. The blue visitor helped us. He said this... asteroid? This asteroid will take us where our ships cannot. We came here.”
“Your ships can’t go into the dead space?” Jovan asked.
“No. Only to the other planet.”
“Where is your home? How long have you traveled?”
“We have lived on this asteroid for fourteen arut.”
That was helpful, Cyann sent to Jovan.
Aren’t you up on your arut conversions? he returned.
“You need to go through the dead place to find a new home,” Jovan said. “Because there is nothing here that you can reach in time, before your food runs out.”
“Correct. We have no ships now. Parts needed to build this. Blue visitor showed us how.”
“Well, that must be the power source,” Cyann said. “Or parts of your technology being used to create power from the asteroid’s resources.”
“Maybe. I do not go below there. We have engineers. Builders.”
Just then one of the smaller Jur came out onto the platform overlooking the pit. It walked purposefully toward them, thin arms stretched up. The colors on this one flashed green and blue and it wore only a scrap of cloth wrapped around shapeless hips.
“Hello, little one,” Cyann smiled when it stopped to look up at her.
The Jur who had toured them through the dome stalked toward them and with a quick swat shoved the new arrival over the edge of the terrace. Stunned, they watched it tumble some distance before landing on a lower level where it bounced and rolled until it came to a stop. After a moment or two, it gathered itself and disappeared into a domed tunnel.
“Why did you do that?” Cyann exclaimed.
The Jur made some vague gesture. “He is not allowed here. Must not bother visitors.”
She glared at him, ready with her retort when she felt Jovan send a note of caution, like a hand placed on her arm. He’s probably fine. They don’t have bones to break.
It would still hurt to fall like that!
“What is your function here?” Jovan asked their host.
He seemed to ponder that question for a while. “Guide. I guide other Jur. To prepare us to leave here.”
“Some sort of leader, I guess,” Anders said, startling Cyann who had forgotten that he and Nigel were following their progress via their com systems. “Or overseer, guard even.”
The Jur turned back to the door into the hallway. “Come see drops.” He stalked away, apparently certain that they would follow.
“You know,” Cyann said after turning off her translator. “This place is starting to feel creepy.”
“I have to agree,” Jovan said. “Why is there no one else up here? Is no one curious?”
“Maybe some sort of hive mentality,” Anders said. “Or an oppressive governance. Obviously the smaller ones have been told to stay away. Are you getting any telepathy among them?”
“Nothing,” Jovan said. “If they’re communicating that way I can’t feel it. I’m not even getting mood or physical presence. I should at least be able to tell how many there are, roughly.”
“Nigel,” Cyann said. “Are you finding anything unusual?”
“Nothing you aren’t. But your signals faded a bit when you were closer to that pit. Anything below you is pretty much shielded from the sensors. And I still can’t cut through the plasma interference from the front end of this rock.”
“We’ll keep trying,” Anders said. “But see if you can get some sort of headcount anyway.”
They followed the Jur through another series of bubble-like spaces. Movement behind some of the walls made it clear that others were nearby, perhaps watching or following. But apparently only their guide was interested or permitted to interact with the strangers. All of them had visited places where off-worlders were rare or even unheard of. Never had they been met with so much indifference.
“It’s like they don’t care if we’re here or not,” Cyann said. “They know what guns are, obviously, but they haven’t asked us to remove ours. Barely even looked at the ship. No curiosity, no fear, nothing.”
“I know a few Delphians like that,” Nigel quipped. “You’re about to reach the end of the dome. There is a tunnel of sorts coming up.”
The Jur was waiting for them not far ahead at a round metallic opening leading steeply upward. It was darker in there and they followed with some trepidation. But they soon exited again into another dome, this one much more vast and without a central pit. It enclosed a single open space. Fading light from the nearby star penetrated the murky substance that formed the roof and emitted from several Jur that barely looked up when the strangers entered.
“Doesn’t this look familiar,” Cyann said.
Most of the floor space here was taken up with clusters of pods looking exactly like the one that had come to Delphi’s moon. Jur moved among them, wielding tools and scoops of a muddy-looking substance, perhaps repairing these or building more. Each pod was open at the top, showing a nearly liquid interior.
Their guide Jur waved both arms to encompass the collection. “These are the drops. Do not touch.”
“There must be hundreds of these,” Jovan said. He turned to the Jur. “Very many here.”
“Yes. And many more in the other places.”
Jovan exhaled audibly. “You will use these to leave the asteroid?”
“Yes. Drop to new planet. Gravity will help us get there. Very dangerous. Some will die. Sad. But we have only this way.”
“Do you know which planet?” Cyann said.
“You have many planets,” he said. “One will fit. One will be home. We will keep looking.”
“He’s got no idea,” Cyann said in Delphian. “At the speed of this asteroid, it could be generations before they find a hospitable location. Trans-Targon must be some sort of paradise for them.”
“I wonder if they even know that this asteroid is going to poison the entire sector,” Anders added.
“Jur,” Jovan addressed their host. “There are dangers after the dead space. Dangerous planets. Bad air. Much gravity. Enemies maybe. Like on your home world, they may be hostile and fight.”
“We know,” the Jur said and again nothing in the blank expression hinted at his thoughts. “We are stronger now. Blue visitor showed us. Enemies are nothing. You are nothing. Your planes died. You can die, too.”
“Gods,” Cyann whispered.
“You do have weapons, then?” Jovan asked.
“No. We must find a new home. Nothing matters.”
“Told you, didn’t I?” Nigel’s voice reached them from the Scout’s cockpit. “We’re going to be dinner any minute now.”
“I don’t think they care about us being here at all,” Cyann said. “He really seems to believe that they will defeat us. That we can’t harm them. We can’t stop them. Their survival is all that matters.”
“I agree,” Anders said. “Although he did mention a food shortage.”
“This is not the time for jokes,” Nigel grumbled.
“Words don’t fit,” the Jur interrupted when the translator crackled in protest over the unknown language.
“We need to regroup before we tell them anything,” Jovan said. “Let’s see if we can politely find our way out of here.”
Cyann took an experimental step back toward the tunnel to the main dome. “We thank you for showing us your home. It is impressive. We will return to our ship.”
“Why.”
“To... join our people. One of them is injured. We must help him and then we must rest.”
“He is broken? Sad. Broken Jur can’t help the journey. They go outside.”
“Outside? Why?”
“So they end faster. Very sad. But nece
ssary. Injured Jur cannot help the Jur.”
Cyann frowned. “You put them outside to die?”
“Yes. Cold there. And the air is wrong. So sad.”
“You don’t have healers? Medicines?”
“Your words don’t fit,” the Jur said. “Rest here. The doors are closed.”
Nigel swore.
“Can you open them?”
“No. It’s time for the turn. The star is soon that way.” He pointed to his feet. “Cold outside.” The Jur gestured toward the tunnel. “Rest there. Come.” He led the way back into the habitat and then turned into another hive of bubble rooms that seemed to go on forever. At times, the ground either dropped or rose, perhaps following the asteroid’s natural contours. A few other Jur crossed their path but quickly hurried into other directions.
Cyann indulged her curiosity and peeked into some of the side rooms opening off the main passage to see what looked like nests on the ground; three or four round bowls stuffed with the same material that clothed the Jur. Apparently the lack of solid bones allowed them to remain comfortably curled in a small space. Like in those “drops”, she thought and shuddered when she imagined a hail of them falling on places like Callas or Nebdan or even Delphi. There was nothing else. No furniture, nothing decorative, not even discarded clothing.
At last, their guide stopped and gestured for them to enter one of these rooms. “Blue visitor space.”
“Look!” Cyann exclaimed. She had discovered a box on the floor, the sort of plastic container found on any ship or Union base. The markings on the broken lid displayed Air Command symbols. She crouched beside it. “Union issue,” she said. Carefully, she pulled out a few pieces of clothing and held them up to show Jovan and the camera at her shoulder. “These are also from Trans-Targon, I’m sure. Might even be from Magra or Pelion.”
“Belonging to Kiran, you think?” Anders asked.
“I cannot imagine anyone else with blue strings on his head flying an Air Command plane all the way out here.” The plain shirt she unfolded was of a size that might fit Jovan and she realized that, for some odd reason, she had expected it to be child size. “Guess he grew up, too,” she said, oddly affected by the find. She briefly touched it to her face. The discovery of a comb tucked in among the clothes made her smile. “I guess he didn’t cut his braid off.”
Jovan grinned back and ran a hand through his hair. “No snips in there?”
“No, just clothes.” She looked up at the Jur guide standing motionless by the entrance. “You said the blue visitor is dead?”
“It went outside.”
“When?”
“Long ago. I will ask,” he replied. “You will rest here.” Before they had time to reply, he turned and vanished down along the curved passage.
Jovan watched him depart. “There goes the warden.”
“Lying warden,” Anders said. “If Cy is sure that Kiran’s the one that’s been talking to her.”
“I am.” Cyann exchanged a worried look with Jovan. “You sound terrible, Anders. Get Nigel to scan you to make sure those ribs aren’t poking a lung. Don’t move around.”
“I’m all right. Headache’s bad, though.”
“We really need to get back to the ship, Jovan. You should take another look at his head.”
“That Jur might be right about the temps outside,” Jovan said. “If we’ve rotated away from the sun, this gear might not be enough. We’d need the space suits.”
“Nigel,” Cyann tapped her microphone. “What’s the weather out there?”
“Cold, yes,” came the reply. “But you can make it if you hurry. We’ve got frost kits.”
“I don’t see why they wouldn’t allow us to leave. They don’t know what we can tolerate. Let’s just find the door and see if it opens. Or just shoot the damn thing.”
Jovan shook his head. “Let’s not risk hostilities. Don’t forget that, if the others don’t find us, this rock is the only thing that’ll get us out of here and back into Trans-Targon. When that keyhole opens, they need to be in a mood to let us ride it out in here.”
“I’m less and less interested in asking these people for help and more and more convinced that we have to get off this rock,” Cyann said. “I say we take our chances on Nova.”
“Something worries me a bit,” Nigel said. “It’s possible that the Jur might want us to stick around for when we get to Trans-Targon. We’d be valuable to help them negotiate, if need be, maybe even as hostages.”
“Then we’re probably safe here for a while,” Jovan said. “Let’s wait it out and see if they’ll open that door for us. How much time before we’re facing the sun again, Nigel?”
“Hmm, let’s see.” Nigel hummed to himself for a while. “’bout four hours from now.”
“That’s not bad,” Cyann said. “Can you get Anders comfortable? I’m worried about that headache.” She waited for some sort of peevish comment from Anders but there was only silence. “And make sure he stays still.”
“Will do,” Nigel said. “I’ll check back with you if anything changes. You do the same.”
Cyann twisted the clothing Kiran had left behind in her hands, watching Jovan return to the doorway to look out into the hall. The silence of the dome was a little unnerving. They had seen dozens of Jur in the distance but now it seemed as if they were all alone. No one spoke, no one was moving about - or if they were, they did so silently. There was nothing relaxing about this overwhelming stillness accompanied only by a dull drone from somewhere below.
Jovan turned to peer at her and then came to sit on the ground beside her. “Are you cold?”
She nodded.
He turned his com unit to receive only and then reached over to switch hers as well. “How are you feeling? You seem a little... edgy.”
She shrugged. “Frightened, mostly. Worried about Anders. I guess I could use a bit of your Shantir magic, if you’re offering.”
“I am.”
She closed her eyes when he reached out to take her face into both of his hands. Gradually, she felt herself relax and able to push away the nagging mental itch that had crept back over these past few hours.
“I’m sorry that I barked at you earlier today, on the ship,” he said. “I have no right to do that. You were only thinking of these people. How we can avoid harming them. I should not have disparaged you for that. It was callous of me.”
She opened her eyes to find him watching her intently. “I suppose you were right. We have a big problem if they get to Trans-Targon. That’s clear now. And there isn’t anything we can do to stop it.” She grasped his hands. “I’ve never been in a spot like this before. I’m scared, Jovie. Really, truly scared.”
“So am I.”
She gave him a weak smile. “You are? You don’t get scared. That’s not what you’re trained for.”
He did not reply for a moment and then switched to the khamal that still existed between them. What I’m not trained for is hiding from you. His thumb stroked her cheek. And what I’m scared of is not having the chance to show you.
She felt something urgent beneath the words he was sending. That polite distance he had always maintained suddenly did not seem as if it was born of obligation. He had sworn allegiance to her clan which made him a servant in name and had made her safety his duty. But now, with their minds firmly linked, she realized that indifference was not what he felt for her. “Show me,” she whispered.
He leaned down and even before his lips touched hers she felt the full, undisguised measure of his need. The remote affection he usually displayed for her was driven aside by a passion that she had not ever suspected to find in him. She returned his kiss, ignoring the uncomfortable breathing tubes across their lips, aware of nothing but his touch on her mind and the arms that held her. How often had she imagined this moment, when he would sail away with her on a cloud of bliss adrift on a summer’s breeze? She missed the cloud and breezes no more than she noticed the hard floor inside this bubble of gritty glass on a
n asteroid heading for annihilation.
I wish... she thought and let her mind reach out for him, wanting to touch all of him, right here, right now. Jovan pulled away when another moment of this would likely overstep any remaining propriety in this alien place. She reveled in his comforting embrace, blocking out everything that wasn’t part of this moment.
Why have you never told me? she sent.
He shrugged slowly. Because I thought it would go away. That you’d find your mate. I thought I could just keep pretending and hiding.
But why?
You deserve better than me. I don’t even have a home. I don’t belong anywhere. Your father—
My father? she sent a mental exclamation that made him flinch. “This is about Tychon? You’re worried because you’re a Shantir? That he wouldn’t approve of you lusting after his daughter?”
“Uh, yes. I suppose. And it is... inappropriate. I am pledged to his service, even if that is just a title. He took me into his clan. He made it possible for me to study navigation. This seems... disrespectful.”
“I suppose it is. He will stomp and frown and then Nova will sort him out.” She kissed him softly. “Is that why you left? The last time?”
He nodded. “You got to me. It was flattering and amusing when you were younger. Tychon shipped me off to Feron. But when I got back from there I realized that it wasn’t so funny anymore. You’d suddenly grown up and I hadn’t even noticed. When you chose your first shoi-gan I just wanted to be gone. I couldn’t stand to see you with someone else, even just a mentor. So I left for the Badlands tour. And now I come home and nothing’s changed. You’re all I want and I’m not pretending it’s otherwise. I can’t be around you unless you’re with me.” He smiled wistfully. “When you badgered me into that khamal shoi on Sola I thought I was going to lose my mind! I decided then to tell you this. Maybe find the perfect moment on Delphi to sweep you off your feet and see if you still wanted me, I guess. ”
She smiled and brushed her fingers over his lips. “Things didn’t quite happen the way you envisioned.”