Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets

by Christie Golden

  She dipped back down into Valerian’s viewpoint, watching as he fired a harpoon that connected with the pretty, swift little vessel. She could feel her heart slamming against her ribcage now, faster than it had ever beaten before. Faster than it ought to beat.

  Valerian was towed along as the ship tried to break free. It was hurtling him back and forth, like a child’s plaything—

  Sweat began to sheet down Laureline’s body.

  Back and forth Valerian swung, until at last—the hull of a cargo ship approaching, fast, too fast, and the Sky Jet slammed—

  Laureline screamed.

  The wreckage lay there, illuminated by erratic, faint, purple-blue light. Laureline was making bargains with the universe when, thank goodness, Valerian pulled himself out of the smoking wreckage of the Sky Jet, swayed, then slumped to the ground.

  Everything went black. Then, suddenly, Laureline was out of his point of view, staring down into the precipice at his too-limp form. Valerian! His image suddenly became blurry. For an awful second, she thought she was losing contact with him, but then she realized that it was only her own tears that obscured her vision.

  The voice of Burgundy penetrated her fear, shouting, “Thirty seconds!”

  Laureline stared at Valerian an instant longer, then set her jaw. Crying over him wasn’t going to save him. Figuring out where he had crashed would. She tore her gaze from his sprawled body and looked around the precipice where her vision-self stood.

  “Fifty seconds!” yelled Yellow.

  “Get out!”

  “Now!” shrieked Burgundy.

  Laureline couldn’t.

  Not yet. Not before she had located the man she—

  The image blurred a second time, but not from tears. Laureline suddenly felt exhausted, as if she had run a hundred miles without stopping, and realized it wasn’t her body, but her mind that was growing exhausted from the strain.

  Come on, Laureline—

  And there. Her frantically seeking gaze fell on a pipe with words painted on it. Her head was starting to spin. She fought against it, but her legs quivered and abruptly gave way. She landed hard on her knees, but she had seen and memorized the information.

  L.630.E.SUL-DEACTIVATED.

  The image faded away.

  Laureline could barely lift her arms, but she forced herself to do so. Shaking, numb fingers fumbled to grip the slippery creature that covered her head and torso. With her last ounce of energy, she wrenched the clinging creature off her. It landed on the deck with a soggy splat and she stared at it, trembling, drenched with sweat and seawater, exhausted to near-unconsciousness.

  The jellyfish had turned completely black.

  “Incredible!” Blue exclaimed.

  “One minute—”

  “—and ten seconds!” crowed Yellow, excited.

  “A record!” announced Blue.

  The jellyfish quivered, and as Laureline watched, her lip curling in disgust, it pulled itself to the edge of the dock and slipped back into its element with a soft splash.

  “Are you all right?” Burgundy asked, worried.

  “Did you find him?” Yellow inquired.

  Panting, Laureline blurted, “L.630.E.SUL… DEACTIVATED.” Still on hands and knees, she glanced up at her companions. “Any idea what that means?”

  They looked at one another meaningfully, then Blue spoke. “Level six hundred thirty East.”

  “Most likely a sulfate pipe,” added Burgundy.

  “Deactivated, apparently,” Yellow said, seemingly annoyed at being stuck with stating the obvious.

  These three had been the source of many an irritation in the past. But today, they’d done everything they said they would do, though, admittedly, for a fee. Because of them, she was going to be able to find Valerian.

  “Thanks,” Laureline said sincerely, and gave them all a smile.

  “Our pleasure, Sergeant,” Blue said. He put a stubby hand to the center of his narrow chest and bowed slightly.

  “You want a detailed map?’’ offered Burgundy.

  And, naturally, Yellow added, “For an absolute bargain.’’

  * * *

  Sergeant Neza, at least, had some good news for Okto-Bar: they had located Agent Laureline.

  Tall, slim, ramrod-straight, Neza pointed to the station’s map. “We biologically traced Sergeant Laureline to here.”

  “What was she doing out by the Galana Sea?’’ Okto-Bar asked, surprised. This whole thing was becoming stranger by the minute.

  “We don’t yet know, sir,” Neza replied. “What we do know is that afterwards she stole a vehicle and headed into the red zone.” His assuredness faltered slightly as he added, “We lost track of her at that point.”

  Okto-Bar’s eyebrows rose. The red zone… A slight smile touched his face. “No idea how, but she must have located the major!” A little more good news, if it was true.

  Another sergeant poked her head in and asked, timidly, “General? There ah… there are three Doghan Daguis who claim to have information that might interest us.”

  No one liked Doghan Daguis. They lived by selling information, not volunteering it. The young sergeant had been right to be hesitant to mention them. But at this point, two of the spatio-temporal agency’s best were missing, and Okto-Bar was not about to let any lead— even one brought to him by a trio of Doghan Daguis— pass by unexamined.

  “Let them in.”

  Okto-Bar turned as the three shuffled in obsequiously.

  He eyed them each in turn, sternly.

  “Our humble respects, General,” Blue began.

  “May you be healthy—”

  “—and prosperous,” Yellow finished, and gave Okto-Bar what passed among his species for a smile.

  “Shoot,” said the general, brusquely. He folded his arms.

  They spoke, and the more they said, the grayer Okto-Bar’s face grew. When they were done, he had a knot of cold fury in his stomach. To Neza, who also looked stunned and slightly sick, he said, “Follow me.”

  * * *

  General Okto-Bar marched into the interrogation room with four of his best people at his heels. Trundling along behind them, as fast as their short legs would carry them, came the three Doghan Daguis. The guards who had been standing at the door stood at attention, looking confused, a little scared, and as if they wished they were anywhere but here.

  “Sir, we—” one of them began.

  “Open that door, Lieutenant,” Okto-Bar said in a chillingly soft voice, “or you’ll be very sorry you didn’t.”

  She did.

  Okto-Bar truly hoped that the information purchased from the Doghan Daguis had been wrong. But, sickeningly, it wasn’t.

  The slender, pale alien was tied to the chair. He had obviously been beaten, and when that hadn’t produced the desired results, well—the general suspected that the dozen or so tubes that perforated his body were not supplying anything wholesome. The three small aliens who had led him here were now peering cautiously in the door.

  Okto-Bar whirled on the poor creature’s tormentor and demanded, simmering with anger, “Captain! What’s going on here?”

  The captain stared at him, obviously panic-stricken. His eyes flitted about as if searching for an escape route and his voice quivered as he replied. “I report directly to the Commander Arun Filitt! I don’t have to—”

  “I am General Okto-Bar!” he roared, stepping in to close the distance between him and the captain. He had lost whatever shred had remained of his patience. Patience had no place in the face of torture. “In the commander’s absence, I am in command on Alpha Station. Sergeant Neza—arrest these men! And release that poor fellow immediately.”

  Sergeant Neza and another soldier eagerly hastened to obey the general’s order. The Doghan Daguis lingered at the door. They looked like they were lapping this up.

  The pale alien had been liberated from his bonds, and two of the men were removing the drips. His head lolled back and his thin chest heaved. Okto-
Bar stood beside him and said, his voice gentle yet still filled with righteous anger, “I deeply apologize for your mistreatment. We’re going to take you to our jail now, because your people attacked us, but I promise, our doctors will take care of you. You won’t be harmed anymore.”

  Even as he spoke, Okto-Bar wondered if the creature would survive long enough to be treated. What had been done to him…

  The being opened impossibly blue eyes and smiled feebly at the general. With an effort, he reached up a hand and grasped Okto-Bar’s.

  “Help us…’’ he pleaded.

  It was a curious request from someone whose species had attacked the station, but Okto-Bar said, “If you want me to help you, tell me all you know and, first of all, why you’re attacking us.”

  Faintly, the battered prisoner replied, “Because… you have… what we need.”

  He closed his eyes. For a moment, Okto-Bar thought he was gone. Then, unexpectedly, the wounded being stretched his arms out wide and arched his back, as if he were trying to embrace the whole universe.

  A blue wave seemed to surge from his body, pulsing as it rippled across the room, through the room and everyone in it, while they stood, eyes wide and mouths open in wonder.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Laureline emerged from the deactivated sulfate pipe in Level 630 East, leading with her gun, to find herself in a gully alongside a precipice. She approached the edge quickly but carefully and peered down into a bottomless blackness intermittently illuminated by a few skittering, phosphorescent butterflies lighting up the stretch of wall. They were beautiful and magical-looking, their fluttering wings painted in softly glowing shades of magenta, violet, and midnight blue.

  “Valerian?” Laureline called. Her voice echoed and suddenly she wondered if yelling had been the smartest thing to do. But if he could answer her…

  She heard only the dying echo of her own voice, and then silence in response.

  This was the right place, she was sure of it. She hadn’t noticed the butterflies specifically, but she’d seen Valerian’s form and the wreckage of the Sky Jet lit up by their luminescence. And she’d had the converter reproduce enough diamonds to be sure that the map the Doghan Daguis had provided her was accurate. Valerian had been in pretty bad shape in her vision. She could only hope he would hang on until she could reach him.

  She fished in her kit until she found a slender but strong line of cable attached to a piton. With a firm shove, Laureline autoset the piton into the rock, tugged to make sure it was secure, then carefully rappelled down the black, nearly vertical rock face. She kept going until her feet touched a ledge that jutted out about ten feet from the wall. With a flick of her wrist, the line detached, and she quickly wound it up and returned it to her kit. The stone beneath her feet was slick, and she moved carefully along the ledge in search of her partner. Now and then a butterfly would waft air against her cheek, a feather-light little kiss; it was a strange pleasantness in this moment of fear and worry.

  The ledge curved and then deepened into a cave. Laureline shone a light ahead, gasped. She had found the Sky Jet—at least, what was left of it. She pressed her lips together in a grim line, chasing away the fear that would weaken her, and called out again. “Valerian?”

  No answer. She hastened to the wreckage as swiftly as she dared. On the far side, she found him.

  Valerian was sprawled on the ground, his suit torn and bloody. Laureline ran to him, dropping to her knees beside him.

  “Valerian! I’m here!” She placed her gun on the ground and frantically searched in her kit. She pulled out a compact first aid system, eased her hand around the back of his head, and slipped it into his mouth. Its red light turned blue, as a mini cartridge pumped in the prescribed medication.

  “Wake up, Valerian… please!”

  Nothing. The seconds ticked by. Had she come too late? The kit was good, but—

  His eyes flew open and he sat up, coughing and spitting. Relief washed through her, so powerful it made her weak. Her face hurt, and she realized it was because she couldn’t stop smiling. She touched his cheek and impulsively leaned in, pressed her lips to his, and kissed him hard.

  He sat there for a second, utterly taken by surprise, then returned the kiss. When she pulled back, though, he stared at her in confusion.

  “Laureline! What are you doing here?”

  “I came to get you,” she said. “You totaled your Sky Jet. Remember?” She jerked her head in the direction of the wreckage.

  Valerian blinked, still slightly dazed. “Yeah… I… I lost it in a curve.”

  “You nearly died, you mean,” Laureline replied, unable to smother her grin. She couldn’t take her hands or her eyes off him, and she didn’t want to. This had hit her too hard. “It’s lucky I found you!”

  Memory seemed to be returning to him in fits and spurts. “What about the commander?” Valerian asked. “Do we know where he is?”

  “No sign of him,” Laureline answered. “Their spaceship disappeared in the red zone. We couldn’t track it or him.”

  Valerian nodded. “Okay. Sounds like we have no time to waste. Let’s go.” He hauled himself stiffly to his feet.

  Laureline remained kneeling on the hard rock, staring at him, utterly taken aback as he made his way to the wreckage to recover what he could. For a moment she couldn’t even form words. Then, she said, “Is that all?”

  He turned back to peer down at her. Damn him, he wasn’t even extending a hand to help her up. “Why?”

  “No ‘thank you,’ no ‘you did great, Laureline?”’

  Valerian’s face melted into his old familiar, smartass grin. He strode over to her, pulled her to her feet, and kissed her on the lips. She was just melting into it when he pulled back, cupped her face with his hands, and said, very sincerely, “Thanks.”

  And then he added, “But I’d have done the same for you.”

  Laureline’s eyes narrowed and she felt the heat of absolute fury rise in her cheeks. Valerian flashed a smile, and dodged the slap she aimed at him.

  She thought about everything she’d endured—the smelly pirate, nearly getting gobbled by Bromosaurs, the clammy stickiness of the jellyfish enclosing half her body, the risk of nearly having her memories eaten by it—

  Laureline wanted to tell him, in excruciating detail, but she couldn’t even think that clearly right now, and so all that came out was, “You are such a jack ass!”

  “Hey, chill,” Valerian said, laughing a little. He was enjoying this! He reached down to pick up the gun she’d placed on the rocky surface and tucked it into his belt. “I trusted you, even more than I trust myself. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “No!”

  Valerian ducked another swing, then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. “You are an amazing woman, Laureline. Why do you think I want to marry you?”

  “Why would I marry a conceited, ungrateful—”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, “probably because you can’t live without him. I mean, look, whenever he wanders out of your sight, you chase after him!”

  His ego and audacity left Laureline speechless. He leaned in for another kiss, but she was having none of it. She turned her head and stiff-armed him away. When he stepped back, she graced him with the coldness of her blue eyes. Icily, she said, “We have a mission to finish, Major. Remember?”

  Valerian sighed and dropped his arms. Then he lifted them in a you win gesture as he returned to scavenge the Sky Jet. They would need weapons where they were going.

  Laureline turned away, gazing out into the cavern that opened before them. One hand reached into the carrier attached to her belt to pat the converter, as much to comfort herself as him. He nibbled delicately on her fingers, and she smiled.

  “Didn’t you say the girl in your dreams had a converter like this little fellow?” Laureline asked. She gave the converter’s scaly back a final stroke, then closed the container securely.

  “That’s right,” Valerian an
swered, his back to her as he rummaged.

  A butterfly landed on Laureline’s hand. It was so beautiful—so delicate, and fragile, and the colors so vivid. It had a sort of tail, too; a long, wavy tendril that swayed and undulated behind it. She watched it as it slowly closed and opened its wings, keeping her hand still so as not to frighten it.

  “So, if the converter is native to their planet,” she continued, “it’s fairly understandable that they want to retrieve the last living specimen, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” agreed Valerian, “and they probably kidnapped the commander because they thought he was carrying it on him.”

  “And when they found out he wasn’t, I’ll be the next one on their list,” Laureline said. The butterfly stayed where it was, and despite her annoyance with Valerian’s most recent display of reliably boorish behavior, she smiled. There was still beauty in the universe.

  “Don’t worry,” Valerian reassured her. “I’m not letting you go anywhere!”

  She sighed, and let her resentment go. “I’m not letting you go anywhere!”

  She heard him chuckle. All was well between them again. “I think I’ll quit while I’m ahead and not comment on that,” he said.

  “O-ho, you’re learning wisdom to go along with those gray hairs,” Laureline teased.

  “One,” he retorted. “You found one.”

  Laureline continued to regard the beautiful insect that had graced her with its presence. She smiled at it. “Pretty butterflies here,” she said.

  “Sure,” he said absently, “but don’t let them touch you, whatever you do.”

  Laureline’s smile bled from her face. “Why not?” Her voice was strained.

  The butterfly closed and opened its wings.

  She stood perfectly still.

  “Because,” he said, turning to address her, “some of them are—” His eyes widened. “No!”

  He lunged toward her, but it was too late. In a flash, the butterfly’s deceptively delicate “tail” wrapped itself around Laureline’s hand, and she was yanked over the edge of the precipice.

  Valerian rushed over to see Laureline dangling by her wrist on the end of long, glowing violet tendril, swinging over the seemingly infinite drop. His gaze followed the line about a hundred and fifty feet up to see an enormous, lumpy, only-vaguely humanoid creature sitting on the edge of another precipice, swinging its ugly legs and holding onto what looked terribly like a human fishing pole.