Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets

by Christie Golden

  Okto-Bar stared at the blinking name. He apparently did have an imagination, because right now, it was running wild.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  At first, Laureline suspected the Doghan Daguis were leading her on a merry chase. Her impatience rose with every step as they led her south, the part of the station designed to accommodate aquatic species. She realized they were in an area called Galana. Its underwater plains were supposed to be magnificent, but she had not come here to play tourist.

  “You’d better not be trying to send me on a wild goose chase,” she muttered at one point.

  “What is—”

  “—a wild goose?” asked Burgundy.

  “And why would you chase it?” Yellow finished.

  Laureline rubbed her temples. Adrenaline was still surging through her and it did not make patience any easier. “Never mind,” she said. “Just remember my weapon is fully loaded and I’ll be happy to use it if this starts to go south.”

  “We are—” said Blue.

  “—already going—”

  “—south.”

  Laureline did not reply. She knew if she opened her mouth it would be to emit a shriek of outrage, and that would not help Valerian at all. Though it would make her feel better.

  At last, followed by Laureline, the Doghan Daguis reached a concrete dock on the banks of a murky green inland sea. There was a smell of brine mixed with rot, and Laureline tried not to wrinkle her nose at the stale stench. The area was derelict and deserted, and various odd sounds echoed in a weird and sinister fashion.

  No, Laureline thought, not quite deserted. She could see the conning tower of a very small submarine, which appeared to be moored to the dock. Not that much of it was visible, but what she could see did not inspire confidence. The metal looked ancient and likely to spring a leak any second.

  The Doghan Daguis seemed to know exactly what they were doing. They marched toward a red mechanism perched on the end of the dock, which, like the submarine, appeared to have seen better days. Laureline’s best guests was that it was a crane of some sort. Blue pulled a lever and a small hook descended. Burgundy produced a bottle from one of the myriad pouches around his waist and attached it carefully to the hook. Blue pulled another lever and the crane swung around, then lowered the bottle so that it clanked against the side of the submarine without breaking.

  There was a grinding noise and the conning tower lid flipped back.

  One of the strangest-looking men Laureline had ever seen poked his head out. He squinted, seized the offering, opened it with his teeth, chugged the contents in a single gulp, and threw the empty bottle overboard into the murky green water.

  He had long, wild, curly gray hair and a thick beard to match, and his face was as weathered as old leather. His nose looked like it had been broken about eight too many times, and the eyes that turned to regard them were mismatched. One was deep, dark and brown, the other an unnaturally pale blue Laureline suspected was artificial. Some sort of implant was affixed to his upper left brow, and his oddly shaped ears had earrings.

  “I’ve got a sinking feeling about this plan of yours,” Laureline muttered.

  The pirate—or so she assumed him to be—leered at her with his strange eyes. Gruffly, he growled, “Whaddya want?”

  The first Doghan Daguis spoke. “We’d like to go fishing—”

  “—for cortex jellyfish,” said Burgundy.

  Yellow added, “Male, if possible.”

  Blue lobbed one of Laureline’s diamonds toward the pirate. His left hand shot up and caught it more deftly than Laureline would have thought possible—until she realized the arm was completely cybernetic.

  The pirate examined the gem and grunted. Peering up, but keeping the diamond, he called, “It’s not the season.”

  Burgundy tossed him another gem. Again, he plucked the tiny item out of the air. This time, he said, “Males are harder to catch.” He was clearly wondering how far he could press his luck.

  Yellow sighed and tossed him a third jewel.

  The pirate graced them all with his golden smile. “Welcome aboard,” he declared.

  * * *

  Laureline wasn’t having second thoughts; she was onto fifth, sixth, and seventh thoughts by this point. The sub was as small as she had guessed and even more rickety than she had feared. It could accommodate two humanoids, but only just, and the pirate with whom she’d just decided to ally herself took up a lot of the room. About a third of the ship was the cockpit, with a large viewing bubble. The rest was where the pirate slept and supposedly ate, though Laureline suspected he drank most of his calories, and the tail end was a surprisingly brisk engine. A small claw crane was affixed to the base of the sub, presumably for the previously mentioned purpose of fishing.

  The small submarine scooted across the underwater plains of Galana. Laureline’s anxiety about Valerian contrasted with the serene beauty on display all around her. She had to admit, what she was seeing was pretty amazing. Any other time, she might actually have enjoyed herself.

  They passed through the famous cobalt fields of song and story; a cool, green-blue depth where dark blue flowers grew, gently waving in the water. Their edges were lined with a pale blue light. As Laureline watched, a Poulong farmer swam over the field. They were one of the first aquatic species to settle on Alpha, and they were a gentle people. On land, he would have seemed skeletal and awkward, his body hunched and unattractively angular. But here, he belonged. His skin was blue, mottled so that it looked like light from the surface was always dappling it. A light was affixed to a helmet that covered the top of his skull, with a tether back to a main hub. Laureline realized she was seeing the Krikbang, an advanced computer that linked all the Poulongs and controlled the activity of the field workers. She allowed her gaze to linger on the scene of the tranquil farmer gathering aquatic blossoms; the long, delicate fingers reaching around the slender stalk and plucking it from the seabed. As the stalk snapped, the luminescence that outlined the flower flared, blue-white and very bright, for a moment. The bloom floated helpless as the farmer tucked it into the gathering sack on his back and moved on to another. The glow was beautiful, but Laureline couldn’t help but wonder if it was the plant crying out in pain.

  She did not like that thought, so she turned to look ahead. The pirate had turned out to be taciturn, which suited her just fine. She sat in the seat beside him as the submarine passed through tall, half-crumbled columns, as if they were traveling through a gate into a lost world. It was all lulling and hypnotic, but soon enough, something jarred Laureline to full attention.

  Something large was moving, a dark green smudge against the lighter background of the water. A few heartbeats later, she reclassified the motion from “large” to “gigantic,” with a bit of “monstrous” thrown in for good measure.

  The pirate stabbed a finger in its direction. “There!” he said triumphantly. “Bromosaurs.”

  They were drawing closer to the massive beasts, who were swimming about placidly enough. To her inexpert eye, a bromosaur looked like a cross between a reptile and an insect, with large plates layered along its back and down its tail and eight comparatively tiny legs dangling below its great bulk. It looked to her like it could curl in on itself nose to tail, with the plates providing protection. Laureline didn’t want to know what was in the water that could threaten a creature that was seventy yards long if it was an inch.

  “Are they dangerous?” she asked.

  “Not really,” the pirate answered. “You just have to be careful they don’t inhale you.”

  Laureline relaxed, ever so slightly, watching now with more curiosity than concern as one of the Bromosaurs slowly sucked up the mud from the sea floor and everything it contained.

  “We’re lucky,” he said. “That one’s a male.”

  “How can you tell?” Laureline asked.

  “They’re much smaller than the females,” the pirate explained.

  Laureline raised her eyebrows. “That’s goo
d to hear.”

  The little sub drew closer. “Um… aren’t we supposed to be looking for a cortex jellyfish?”

  The pirate turned his disconcerting gaze on her. “You want to find the jellyfish, you find the Bromosaurs first!” He shook his grizzled head in a what are they teaching kids in school these days? gesture.

  Laureline inquired, “Okay, so… how can you be sure that this one has a jellyfish in it?”

  “They all do,” said the pirate. “Y’see… the Bromosaur blows out pure water, an’ cortex jellyfish can’t survive without it. That’s why jellyfish live on it all year round, and it’s where they get their hypersensitivity from.”

  Laureline stared at him for a moment, almost more impressed by the hitherto-silent pirate’s eloquence and ecological understanding than the giant being in front of them.

  They were close enough now that she could see that the Bromosaur had a single, huge nostril. And sure enough, a jellyfish clung on to its nose, just above the enormous hole currently expelling water.

  The tiny submarine came to a halt facing the animal. Laureline was acutely aware that the Bromosaur was at least a hundred times larger than their vessel.

  “Why are we stop—”

  Her fingers tightened on the arm of the chair as the little ship was pulled forward. “We’re being sucked in!” she yelped.

  The pirate looked completely calm. “You have to approach it head on,” he told her, in the same casual, knowledgeable tone with which he had explained the relationship between the jellyfish and the Bromosaur. He leaned over and said, almost conspiratorially, “It’s the blind spot in its vision.”

  She gaped at him. She’d thought him crazy, then surprisingly knowledgeable, but now she was right back to “insane” again. The submarine was moving faster and faster. Her gaze was inexorably drawn toward the viewing bubble as she watched the talons of the claw crane on the sub’s front unfurl.

  “Now,” the pirate purred, leaning forward as he maneuvered the crane, “here we go… as soft as silk…”

  Laureline watched him, understanding now what he was going to attempt. “Can I help?” she offered. “I’m a good driver.”

  The pirate kept staring raptly, his entire body focused on what he was doing. “Oh, it’s not about driving,” he murmured. “It’s all about… feeling.”

  “I’m not bad at that either,” Laureline said helpfully.

  “Shhh,” the pirate hissed, his face turning dark with a thunderous frown. She sank back in her chair, chastised, and let the pirate do what he’d been given three diamonds to do.

  They were still being pulled in at an astonishingly swift pace. Laureline swallowed, hoping the pirate was secretly brilliant at his job.

  Sure enough, at the very last possible second, the pirate steered up, the little sub managing to break free of the Bromosaur’s vacuum, and surged up and over the monster’s head. He moved the controls swiftly, and the claw crane latched onto the jellyfish on the way past.

  “That’s the way to do it!” her companion roared, gleefully.

  Laureline, relieved, was about to cheer as well when behind and below them, the Bromosaur abruptly reared up. With surprising speed for an animal that had been so slow and languid, it spun around. One moment she was looking at the creature’s broad back and tail, the next into a really big mouth with teeth that were as long as the man sitting beside her was tall.

  “I thought you said they weren’t dangerous!” cried Laureline.

  “Oh, they’re not,” the pirate said nonchalantly, adding, “except when you take their little buddy.”

  “Great!”

  The chase was on. Completely unruffled, the pirate kicked the vessel into high gear and it zipped over the creature’s back… and managed to dodge a second Bromosaur, who was apparently as outraged as its fellow that the little jellyfish “buddy” had been snatched away.

  “We can’t possibly outrun them!” Laureline shouted.

  “We don’t have to,” the pirate replied calmly. Laureline hated sitting by while others acted, but there wasn’t a lot she could do at this point other than hang on tight and hope the ship held together.

  A massive tail lashed out, and the resulting surge of water sent the submarine hurtling forward. Laureline, though, now finally understood what the pirate’s strategy was. Up ahead, two of the giant, now-crumbling columns loomed like stone sentinels. The pirate was heading straight for the gap between them.

  Laureline’s hands tightened on the chair’s arms. Come on, come on…

  The sub zipped between the twin pillars.

  The Bromosaurs didn’t; they slammed into the columns, their heads the only part of them small enough to get through, their shoulders smashing into the ancient stone so hard that a huge crack zigzagged along the length of one. Confused and angry, the two enormous denizens of the Galana Plains simply tried harder and harder. And by then, their tiny prey, and their even tinier little friend, had disappeared into the depths.

  From behind, Laureline heard a loud, mournful bellow. She collapsed back into the seat and closed her eyes for the rest of the trip.

  * * *

  Laureline felt absolutely drained as she climbed out of the submarine, and she didn’t want to admit that she was pleased to find the three Doghan Daguis still waiting there. She’d half-expected them to vamoose.

  Once Laureline was on the dock, the lid of the conning tower slammed shut and she heard the lock grind closed. That was fine with her. She wasn’t sure she’d have any civil words of farewell for the peculiar pirate after that last adventure.

  “Well?” asked Blue.

  “Were they biting?” queried Burgundy.

  “Did you catch one?” Yellow looked excited.

  “Yes,” Laureline replied.

  They all turned to watch as the submarine’s pincers slowly rose out of the water, brandishing its gooey catch.

  “There’s no time to lose,” said Blue.

  “The cortex jellyfish is extremely fragile,” Burgundy explained.

  “Show it images of Valerian—” said Yellow, and Blue finished, “—and it will show you what he has seen.”

  “Sure, but…” Laureline looked askance at the jellyfish still hovering in the pincers’ clutches. “How?”

  “You have to put it—”

  “—on your head—”

  “—down to the shoulders.”

  Laureline grimaced in disgust. “You’re kidding.”

  They regarded her with serious expressions. “Never when we’re working,” Blue assured her.

  “Through a kind of osmosis—” explained Burgundy.

  “—you will be able to communicate,” finished Yellow.

  Laureline eyed the dripping, slimy mass with distaste. Part of her wondered if the Doghan Daguis were simply having a good joke at her expense. But she believed Blue when he denied it. They were slimy little information brokers, true, but toying with clients was bad for business. Speaking of slimy…

  Gingerly, Laureline forced herself to pick up the slippery jellyfish, trying not to recoil as her fingers touched it.

  On her head, down to her shoulders. Ugh.

  She took a deep breath and steeled herself, then lifted the cool, clammy invertebrate. She paused when Blue spoke in a cautionary tone. “But be very careful—”

  “—not to stay under there longer—” Burgundy continued.

  “—than one minute—”

  “—because then it starts to feed—”

  “—on your memory,” Burgundy finished.

  Laureline stared at them, aghast. She let out a harsh, short bark of utterly false laughter.

  “Anything else I should know before I let it swallow me up? Do I put my head straight up his ass?”

  They blinked at her in perfect unison.

  “Not as far as we know,” said Blue, hedging his bet.

  “You can begin.”

  “Good luck,” added Yellow.

  Laureline raised the jellyfish over
her head.

  “Don’t forget!” Blue looked genuinely concerned.

  “One minute!”

  “Not a second more!”

  “Got it,” Laureline replied. And she pulled the jellyfish onto her head.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The slimy body of the jellyfish oozed down, plastering itself to Laureline’s face and swallowing her slender form down to her waist. It was even more disgusting than she had anticipated, and for a second she had to fight a quick frisson of fear as it pressed its gelatinous body over her mouth and nose. Yet she realized that, somehow, she could still breathe.

  She placed aside all thought of queasiness and revulsion, and focused on Valerian.

  In her mind’s eye, she visualized him as clearly as she possibly could. She tried to remember everything: his face, his laughter, and his smart-assed, playful superiority. His voice, his scent, the feel of his touch. The pressure of his lips against hers. How he had looked when he was holding her, right before their arrival at the station. His eyes wide and soft, listening to her as she poured out some of her most private thoughts, which she had never shared with anyone. Her realization that, before he had answered and been interrupted, he had been trembling.

  And so had she.

  Valerian…

  And then all at once, even though her eyes were closed, Laureline could see.

  She was struggling out of the gel-like cocoon that the Pearls had—

  No. She wasn’t.

  Valerian was.

  The Doghan Daguis had been right. She was seeing everything through his eyes.

  Laureline’s heart sped up as she experienced everything with him: the startling, oddly euphoric sensation of running clear through walls with no fear of harm; leaping into space while creating your own stepping stones of translucent blue; running through nuclei fields, and being telepathically yelled at by furious Omelites; chasing the impossibly beautiful Pearl vessel, the shock of watching it splinter into several smaller ones; the decision to chase them down with the Sky Jet.

  “Fifteen seconds!” The voice was jarring and almost pulled Laureline out of her focus. It took a heartbeat for her to realize it was one of the Doghan Daguis yelling a warning.