by Josi Russell
He showed Ethan a photo of the cage on the bottom of the ship, where a Vala child crouched miserably in front of a screen. Reagan watched as the horror crossed Ethan’s face.
“I don’t know what they use the Vala for, either, but I heard Galo mention that there is a metal the Vala cannot go through. These cages and the shackles they use are made of it. I think they use the Vala to help them navigate or something. The Asgre are a merchant race. According to their leader, Galo, they ship things across the universe.”
“Things.” Ethan spat the word out. “Things. Things that are more important to them than living beings.”
As he stared at the little being in the cage, Reagan ached for it and for its parents. “Ethan, how can we help them?”
“Protect them, Phillip. Give them one race that will be their friends instead of using them.”
“So we let them stay? It will be a war, Ethan. You realize that? A war with an opponent I can’t even fathom. People will die.”
Ethan looked him levelly in the eye. “We’re all going to die, Phillip. Nobody knows that better than you and me.” There was such a depth of pain in Ethan’s eyes that Reagan had to look away to hold his own emotions in check. “We’re all going to die, so we’d better live well while we have the chance.”
When Reagan turned back toward Ethan, he felt a new resolve. “I want to meet with them. I want to know what they want from us. I want to hear them say it. I won’t ever make decisions for others without giving them a say again.”
Ethan’s eyes shone. Evidently, that was what he had wanted to hear. “Do you think we should bring them here?”
Reagan shook his head. “No. Your house is on the edge of the forest. They should be able to get there without exposing themselves to too many humans. Once people find out that the Asgre are here for them, we may have to protect the Vala from the humans, too.”
***
That night Reagan sat at Ethan’s kitchen table, watching as Ethan removed his thought blocker.
“I didn’t have much luck when I tried to communicate telepathically with them,” he said, “but what they can sense from me may help us get beyond the limits of the translator.” Reagan saw that Ethan was nervous about it. He knew the toll that even human thoughts took on Ethan and Kaia. He smiled encouragingly, sending a thought of appreciation.
It was after dark when the Vala came slowly into the dimmed kitchen of Ethan’s cottage. There were four of them. They were human-sized, covered with creased pale skin. They placed Reagan’s hand to their foreheads, and the gentleness of the gesture surprised him.
He saw them fold themselves into the chairs around the kitchen table, but they shifted awkwardly, and their short tails bunched up in the chair seats. Their middle appendages stuck awkwardly out. Reagan could see that they were uncomfortable. One stood up beside the table awkwardly. Reagan glanced at Ethan, who gestured to the floor.
Reagan nodded. “Would you,” he stood and gestured to the wide space in the living room, “prefer to sit here?” He lowered himself to the ground, watching the crease in his uniform trousers smooth into oblivion.
They seemed pleased, making small “hmm,” sounds and rocking their heads up and down. Smoothly and with grace, they arranged themselves around him on the floor in an easy circle.
“I am Phillip Reagan,” he said, bowing his head slightly as he listened to the translator.
“Ray-gun. Ray-gun.” The Vala repeated.
He smiled. “Do you want to stay on Minea? Here?” he asked.
The question seemed to reach them all at the same time, and they all rocked up and down gently in assent. Aemon spoke, and Reagan listened carefully to the translator.
“We have searched far for a planet which meets our biological requirements. This planet has the correct atmosphere, the correct minerals for our needs. The cave systems are extensive. We could be happy here.” His genial mood suddenly changed, though, and Reagan saw, in the drumming of his fingers on the carpet, that he had grown anxious.
“But we are not safe. Our children are not safe. The Asgre have found us, have recaptured some of us. They know we are here, and we cannot stay. We must flee.”
Reagan cleared his throat, trying to think of what he could realistically promise them.
“We want to help you,” he said, trying to show his sincerity in his gaze. “To offer you . . . protection.”
There was a stir in the group, and they passed their long fingers across each other’s palms. He was unsure what that meant. He waited a moment, two. Still, they looked at one another and at their fingers, brushing the other Valas’ hands.
Finally, after several minutes, a female named Ahmasa spoke. “We will not be used,” she said firmly. “We have seen our masters. They perform services and receive currency in trade. They support themselves in this way. We, too, will work for ourselves.”
Reagan nodded. What the wrinkly creatures could do, though, he didn’t know. The smile on Ethan’s face told him that the young man had heard that thought and Reagan grimaced toward Ethan apologetically.
“The Vala have a gift that I think could be very valuable to humanity,” Ethan said. He glanced at both Reagan and their alien guests. Reagan shot him a questioning look.
“The Vala can extract Yynium from the ground without mining it. They can remove it by the block.”
Aemon rocked back and forth. “This is true. Do your people want this orange mineral?”
Reagan smiled. “Very much.” He saw Ethan’s plan and tried to articulate it. “Would you be willing to enter into an agreement with us? You extract the Yynium and our companies pay you?”
The Vala turned to each other, again passing their fingers across each other’s palms. “We would,” they said.
Ethan spoke up. “What about when the Yynium runs out?” he asked.
Before Reagan could answer, Aemon spoke. “We have found that this mineral comes from a molten source,” he said. “If the veins are broken by blasting, then the channels become blocked, and no new material flows into the veins. But when we extract the material, we leave the channels intact, and new molten material flows into them as it is made deep inside the planet. When it cools it can be harvested again.”
Ethan turned wide eyes to Reagan. They were both thinking the same thing: Yynium as a renewable resource would change everything.
Ahmasa spoke, her voice clear and precise and her words coming through the translator. “And if, in the future, we choose not to extract the mineral for humans? What would happen?”
Reagan felt the power of his words as he spoke them. “You could do as you please. You would be free.”
The Vala delegation rocked forward and backward in assent. “We would do this.”
***
Reagan walked back to the barracks that night feeling better than he had in years. He thought through the strategy. He would need all six battleships, and all twelve company ships. The Asgre were not a warring race. Perhaps a show of force would scare them away.
Just in case, though, he would ready his ground troops in every settlement. He would have to leave the ground troops in the other cities and rely on the Coriol Defense Troops to defend the city. But they would need more soldiers.
It was time to ask for volunteers.
Chapter 38
Early the next morning, Ethan reached up behind his ear. He braced himself as he removed the little button that had kept his mind free of the incessant noise of other people for the last four years. Holding his son on his lap, he looked into Rigel’s deep gray eyes and thought of his love for the child, let it grow in his mind and heart and well up and outward in his thoughts toward the little boy. I love you, he thought.
A pure, inquisitive beam of thought pierced Ethan’s mind. It was like an unasked question, filling his thoughts with a curiosity he hadn’t felt since the first time he saw Xardn symbols.
Ethan smiled, wondering if Rigel would like Xardn. He extended the thought again, this time in Xardn:
Rigel squealed with delight, placing his hands on Ethan’s cheeks. Ethan saw, in his mind unbidden, the symbol for love repeated.
The feeling of communicating with Rigel, whose thoughts had been concealed so long behind his luminous eyes, washed over Ethan like starlight. It was as beautiful as the sound of Polara’s first word, as moving as the moment he burst forth from the darkness of the cave into Aria’s arms.
Rigel’s thoughts tumbled wildly, flitting from one bright thing to another until the child glimpsed the Taim and focused on them. The Taim trays that covered the counters in the kitchen began to sway. Ethan gazed at Rigel as the little boy began to sway with them.
A feeling of gratitude cut through Ethan’s consciousness as Rigel danced with the Taim. What was Rigel grateful for? Did he even know gratitude yet? The feeling grew stronger, and Rigel looked at his father, clapping his small hands as the feeling washed through him.
And then Ethan knew. Aria had always maintained that some plants may be capable of emotion and communication, and as bright colors and complex feelings flowed through Rigel into Ethan’s mind, he realized that the Taim were sentient. They were communicating with Rigel, and Rigel was passing along their messages to Ethan. For a moment, he reveled in the freshness of their feelings. These plants were young, but very mature. They were joyous.
It was something like working with the glitchy translator, though. Rigel didn’t have all the experience needed to truly convey what the plants were communicating. But basic concepts came through clearly. The swaying Taim plants were happy to be safe.
They had an interconnected consciousness, and Ethan felt their pain and sadness over the seedlings that had been lost to Zam and the vicious blades of the scrapers. Rigel began to cry, and Ethan ached for him, knowing that the only way to turn off the Taim’s voices in his mind was to give him a thought blocker.
But Rigel was so young. Perhaps he could learn to shut out the voices at will. Perhaps he could be spared the pain of his gift and only revel in the joy of it.
Because, when the Taim began to celebrate their new situation, Rigel’s joy returned as well. The bridge of their thoughts gave Rigel the deep connection that the little boy had always excelled at. Through him now, Ethan saw the peace the Taim had found and felt their hope for the future.
***
The Taim trays had done their work, scrubbing the gas out of the air. Maybe it was Aria’s imagination, but the city seemed to sparkle with fresh oxygen.
Many of the little plants were quickly outgrowing their pottery trays. And as they grew, they developed a more complex root system. When they reached a certain size, the Taim needed soil to grow in. They tipped over if they couldn’t anchor themselves. Aria secured a large field at the farm to transplant them to and put out a general missive announcement to bring overgrown Taim trays out for replanting.
Aria stood at the gate to the farm, Taim trays spread around her, top-heavy and verdant. As the first few people walked through, she handed each of them a tray. They walked out into the vast bare field and knelt.
She watched them, their hands scooping at the dirt, the marks on their faces fading and barely visible from a distance. They tucked the Taim into the rich soil with reverence and care.
Hundreds more came, bringing their own trays from home. She saw Luis’s platters, his bowls, his mugs, all brimming with growing Taim. She glanced at Ethan, who was holding their bouncing son.
“What is he saying?” she asked, hungry to know Rigel’s thoughts and the thoughts of the sentient plants that had saved them all.
Ethan smiled and reached behind his ear, removing his thought blocker. She saw him wince, then lean down to rest his forehead on Rigel’s.
Ethan was still a long few moments. He nodded, then raised his brimming eyes.
“He says the Taim are singing. Not just the babies, but their parents in the Taim grove.”
She smiled. “They’re happy then.”
Ethan reached for her hand. “He says they are singing, Aria, about you.”
Aria looked at the dancing plants. Their rhythmic swaying mesmerized her. To have found them, to have saved them, made her feel useful again, made her knowledge as valuable here as it was on Earth. Maybe more so.
She had felt that her presence mattered to her plants back on Earth, had suspected that they grew better when she talked to them, that she was able to understand their needs on a deeper level than some of the other scientists, even in her own field. But they had been a different life form, governed by simple rules of growth and nourishment. These plants had actual will. They had thoughts. They had sent their young spiraling across the wind to the city not because of coincidence or simple biology, but because they wanted their young to have the best chance of survival. They were able to change their usual pattern of seeding to get their young to a suitable growth environment.
Aria laid a hand on Rigel’s head. To have that gift—to be able to speak to the plants—must be wonderful and terrifying. She had loved plants since the moment, as a child back on Earth, she’d pushed a bean into dirt in an old milk carton. She’d loved them when the bean curled a green shoot out through the dirt. She’d loved them when its fuzzy leaves unfurled and the wonder of a living seed had been revealed to her. The souls of plants had always been more apparent to her than to others. And the Taim, these thinking, acting creatures, were both like and unlike those plants she had always loved. To speak to them, to know what the world was like for them, seemed achingly wonderful to Aria.
There was more than that, though. She looked at Rigel, cradled in the shelter of Ethan’s arms, and Aria felt a longing to be able to speak to her silent son. She had heard Ethan’s voice in her head before, a few times, and she knew the wonder of telepathic communication. She pushed away a little wave of jealousy for Ethan’s gift. She couldn’t hear Rigel, but he could still hear her.
I love you, baby, she thought, trying to push the words in his general direction. Her clumsy effort must have been effective, because Rigel turned toward his mother. His blue eyes found hers and he wiggled happily, as if trying to communicate back to her. She took him in her arms.
“See them dancing, Ri?” she pointed to the Taim.
Ethan was rubbing his temples. “He has such a powerful telepathic connection,” he said. “It must be so intense for him. All the time.”
Aria held him tighter and wished again that she could communicate directly with the Taim, to save Rigel the pressure of it.
People were still streaming by, planting their seedlings in the rich soil. Aria heard a familiar voice behind her. She turned just as Daniel embraced her.
“Your Taim saved Nallie,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. Aria ran her free hand over his hair as Rigel clutched at the young man’s coveralls.
As she stepped back, Aria glanced down at Polara, chattering rapidly with the two little Rigo girls. Nallie and Polara both had the same fading pink tinge to their skin. Aria’s heart caught as she thought of how close Nallie must have come to death. She reached out and squeezed Daniel’s arm.
“They’ve given us a great gift,” she said. From the corner of her eye, she saw Ethan. He was watching, smiling.
“Ethan,” she said, reaching for his hand, “this is Daniel Rigo.”
The men shook hands.
Daniel’s voice was earnest as he said, “Sir, Aria saved my life.” He glanced at the little girls again. “Several times now.”
Ethan smiled broadly. “Then we have something in common. She’s saved mine, too.” Ethan squeezed her hand. “Several times.”
Aria grinned. “How are things for you, Daniel?”
Daniel glanced away. “I’m—I’m sorry about the day at the store, Aria. I shouldn’t have been there, and I didn’t want you to know what I was doing.”
Aria knew that feeling. She nodded her forgiveness. Aria noticed now how Daniel had aged since she’d first seen him in the market, the day Gaynes had made him chase the scrip across the floor. A
bitter taste filled her mouth at the thought of the man. It seemed a lifetime ago.
“It was a stupid mistake. And now, my little sisters are paying for it.” Daniel raised pleading eyes to Aria’s and she felt a chill.
“What do you mean, Daniel?”
“Gaynes.” Daniel spit the word. “He’s threatening my family now. I have to keep them in the apartment all the time when I’m at work. I don’t even dare let them play outside.”
Aria looked at Ethan. “Can you turn him in?” she asked.
Ethan nodded. “I will.” A shadow crossed his features. “But you should know that the process is excessively slow, especially with Saras managers. And they’ll want proof.”
“That means questions about what I did.” Daniel’s expression was hard. “Maybe I’ll just have to take care of it myself.”
Chapter 39
Only days after the Taim was planted in its new field, Ethan stood with Aria at the edge of it, shocked by what he saw. The Taim had grown. Not a little. It was three meters high and growing almost before their eyes.
Through Rigel, the Taim had told them that as seedlings they depended on the ground gas that ran in channels underground, much like the liquid Yynium. The gas channels had, in all the previous seeding cycles, run into the Karst Mountains and provided the seedlings with the gas that they needed to metabolize. But the blasting had fractured the gas channels, sending the ground gas into the city. It was toxic to humans and vital to the Taim. The Taim seeds followed the gas into the city, in order to have enough to grow into strong seedlings. But they also needed carbon dioxide to grow and in Coriol they got an extra boost from so many humans emitting so much carbon dioxide.
Now that they were planted in the field, with the gas flowing out of the mine on one side of them and the city washing them with its abundance of carbon dioxide on the other side, they were growing remarkably fast. In days, they said, they would be a full-grown Taim grove, just as Aria had seen in the mountains with the children.