The Hidden World

by Melinda Snodgrass

  It felt like the room tilted. She cried. He recovered himself, stood, and gave a small bow. “Alive and well, Your Highness.”

  “Then I must be dead since my prayer’s been answered.”

  He took her right hand and gave it a squeeze. Wonder replaced sadness and confusion and she raised the other hand toward him. He leaned down so she could touch his face. “You are here. Oh, good,” she sighed. “Now I know I’ll be all right.” Her eyes fluttered closed and she fell asleep.

  * * *

  Mercedes woke to find a long Hajin face staring down at her.

  “Is it time to get up, Tako?” Then she registered that the mane was red and black, not the brown and black of Tako’s, and the eyes were a dark brown rather than the pale green of Tako’s eyes, and she remembered that Tako was dead. Other input began to intrude. The air smelled different. The rumble of the engines was higher pitched, the gravity lighter than aboard the flagship. The alien was gripping her right wrist. Mercedes yanked away. The Hajin took a number of hurried steps backward and gave one of those swaying, awkward curtseys that was the hallmark of the very tall two-legged herbivores.

  “Your pardon, Highness. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m Dalea, the medic aboard the Selkie.”

  “Selkie? Medic? Where am I?”

  “We are a trading vessel, ma’am, we… came upon your signal.” Mercedes noted the hesitation and wondered what wasn’t being said. “Do you remember Tracy—?”

  “So he was here.”

  “Yes.”

  “Was I hurt?” Mercedes asked.

  “No, ma’am. Just the aftermath of cold sleep. I’ve been monitoring you. I shouldn’t have laid hands on you. I apologize.”

  Mercedes studied the six long fingers. Odd that she had reacted. Once she left the nursery and the care of human nurses, she had been cared for and touched by alien maids for most of her life. Why was this so different? Because the creature was a doctor and she had been unconscious? Was it that deeply engrained that humans were always in danger from aliens seeking to steal their precious bodily fluids as many of the more conservative priests had been wont to say? She had never given much thought to the medical care afforded to her alien citizens. Of course they had to have doctors. She had just never thought about it. Just below the surface niggled a worry that the Hajin’s training might be inferior.

  Good manners reasserted themselves. “There’s no need. Thank you very much for caring for me. May I get up?” Mercedes asked.

  “If you feel up to it. It would probably be best if I assisted you.”

  “Very well.” Dalea slid an arm behind her shoulders and helped her to sit up and swing her legs off the bunk. She then slipped her hands beneath her arms and helped Mercedes to her feet.

  She looked up at Dalea. “So, you’re a doctor?”

  “I was a nurse practitioner. I can do a lot, but not everything. I can certainly handle the usual bumps, bruises, cuts, and occasional broken bone that happen aboard ship.”

  “I’d like to go to the bridge.”

  * * *

  Baca, Graarack, and Jax were gathered on the bridge studying the enigmatic planet on the screen before them when Tracy entered. The dirge echoed off the walls. He was met with staccato questions.

  “Why are we still here? No response, hence no trade,” said Jax.

  “Are you going down?” from Luis.

  “How is the princess?” Graarack asked.

  “How did the Imperials fuck up so bad?” asked Luis.

  He answered them in order. “Because I say so. Yes. Fine. Arrogance and the standard arrowhead formation.” Tracy sank into his chair.

  “Coupled with a whole lot of moons to move between,” Graarack added.

  Baca shook his head. “I don’t get it. They won a big victory against the League. Why the sad music?”

  “Because it’s short term.” Tracy jumped as Jahan’s tail tickled his ear. She was once again perched on the back of his chair. As usual he hadn’t heard her arrive.

  “Jahan’s right, central command has to know where they were headed. Once they stop getting regular reports from the strike force they are going to come looking. Kusatsu-Shirane would not have stayed hidden.”

  “So, where are they? Did they all leave?” Baca asked.

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’m going down.”

  “When?” Jax asked.

  “Soon,” Tracy answered sharply.

  “You’re waiting for her to wake up,” Jahan murmured in his ear.

  “She is awake. Well, she was, from the coma, but she fell asleep—” He broke off his stumbling explanations and tried again. “Look, I am not waiting for her to wake up. I don’t care when she wakes up. She can stay asleep until we drop her ass off as far as I’m concer—”

  “Uh, Captain… she woke up,” Luis said, strain sending his voice up an octave.

  Tracy stood and turned. Mercedes stood on the lift platform. She was swaying a bit and she stretched out a hand to steady herself on the wall.

  “Captain,” she said softly. “I see you finally made it.”

  “No thanks to you!”

  There was a gasp of indrawn breath and then a pounding of feet, skittering of claws, and rustle of fronds as the crew bolted for the access ladder. If Tracy hadn’t been so angry, so raw at the heedless remark, he might have found it funny. Apparently Mercedes did. That rich chuckle filled the bridge.

  “I wonder… are they more afraid of you? Or of me?” She stepped onto the bridge studying the various positions. “So, a trading vessel.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You set it up like an O-Trell ship.”

  “It’s an efficient design.”

  She sank down at Baca’s station. “So why are you in orbit around a Hidden World?”

  “Oh, come now, Princess, you really think I’m going to incriminate myself that easily,” Tracy said.

  “It seems like your presence here has already done that.”

  “We plan to claim we picked up your capsule’s distress signal and rode to the rescue. Which I’d say means we deserve a fucking reward.”

  “And maybe you’ll get one,” Mercedes replied. She fiddled with the controls, increasing the volume on the planet’s signal. “What is this music?”

  “We don’t know. That’s the only thing being broadcast.”

  “Aren’t you curious?”

  “Of course. We were headed for the planet when we stumbled across you.”

  “Careful, remember your cover story. I think we should land. I’d like to meet the people who could take out a dreadnaught, two frigates, and an explorador.” The nonchalant demeanor cracked and her voice shook. “Were there no other… survivors?”

  “Yours was the only signal we heard.”

  She covered her face with a trembling hand. “Thank God I separated the force and sent the hostages back to Hellfire. If I hadn’t—Not a great success to rescue them and then get them all killed. Instead I only destroyed my own people. I wonder how they court-martial a princess?”

  “I think you can be confident that they won’t. They’ll shift the blame. Find some patsy. God knows that’s worked for you before,” Tracy said harshly.

  “You’re still angry.” There was an implicit criticism in the words and her tone.

  “Yeah, I am. You made me a criminal when I’m not. You cost me my career and my family. I haven’t seen my father in twelve years.”

  “Oh, no. I’m not taking the blame for that. You could have stayed.”

  “And spent years trying to pay off the judgment against me? I watched that happen to Grandfather and Father. That wasn’t going to happen to me.”

  “So you abandoned him.”

  “He understood. I had to make a fresh start.”

  “By faking your death,” Mercedes said, then added sweetly, “I thought you said you weren’t a criminal.”

  “I wasn’t… I mean, I’m not… I… I had no choice.”

  She pounced. “And
neither did we. We couldn’t have you go public with what happened on Dragonfly. It could have restarted the war,” Mercedes argued.

  “Except it didn’t. Instead the cover-up led to the Cara’ot vanishing. Deciding humans were just too dishonest and violent to risk staying among us.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “Any more than you can know your solution was the best one. It sure as hell wasn’t very good for me.”

  “It doesn’t look like you did so badly. You wouldn’t have had this kind of freedom in the service even if you’d made captain.”

  “Oh, so now you did me a favor? Muchas gracias, Princesa.”

  She leaped to her feet. “You’re impossible! You’ve been impossible from the minute I first met you. So stiff-necked and angry. I’m surprised it hasn’t choked you by now!”

  “And you’re still the same entitled know-it-all you were at eighteen… Always harping on about how I ought to be more accommodating—”

  “Which you completely ignored!”

  “Excuse me for being unable to ignore dead kids! You tried to bribe me and when that failed you joined in on railroading me. You betrayed our oath. You betrayed yourself… You betrayed me!”

  “I’ve done my duty. What was necessary for the good of the League. I helped cover up an atrocity because I was trying to prevent a war.” Her voice was rising as she raged. “I massacred League citizens and let prisoners die to prove the League was strong. I came here because humanity has to be united, and got my ships and my people destroyed.” Her voice broke. She dashed a hand across her eyes. “I married a man I didn’t love.” She was crying now. Wracking sobs that tore at Tracy. The anger and hurt ran out of him like snow melting, making him shudder with shame. “And… and I lost the one I did because… because—”

  The universe shifted. Had she just? Yes, she had! Three strides and he was there, taking her in his arms. Her knees buckled and he clutched her tighter. She lifted her face to his, the tears glittering like silver on her cheeks. He murmured her name then pressed his mouth on hers. She gasped, wrapped her arms around his neck, and tangled her fingers in his hair, trying to pull him even closer as if she could climb inside him and hide.

  Her lips were cracked and dry from her cold sleep. He tasted blood from a tear on her lip that his mad embrace had broken open. He gently cupped her face in his hands, and softened his hold. Her lips parted, their tongues met, the ship seemed to have suddenly started spinning. Eventually sanity returned and reality intruded. Tracy released her and stepped back. Mercedes’ hands clung to him for a whispered instant and then she allowed them to fall to her sides.

  He bowed and handed her his handkerchief. She stared at it, then gave him a quizzical look. “My dad always said a gentleman should have one handy for just this type of moment.”

  “Your father is a wise man.” She wiped her eyes and cheeks, dabbed at her nose.

  “Go ahead. Blow your nose. That’s what it’s for.”

  She gave him a sideways glance. “I kept an eye on him. Made sure he had business.”

  “That was good of you.”

  “I had a selfish motive. I kept hoping you’d show up.”

  “I couldn’t. For the same reason I can’t help him financially so he can retire.” Tracy realized the rage was gone. They were discussing his aged, stroke-afflicted father, a stroke brought on by Tracy’s court-martial, and all he felt was a giddy joy. The admission she loved him had turned the venom to ambrosia.

  “We’ll fix things. I can at least do that much to thank you for saving me.” She swayed again and clutched the back of Luis’ chair.

  “You need to rest. You can have my cabin. Let me take you.”

  * * *

  O-Trell might have left the man, but the man had never left O-Trell. The cabin was neat as a button. Mercedes could have bounced one of the quaint Hajin coins on the tightly made bed. The surfaces were clear of any items that might fly about should there be a loss of gravity or some other catastrophe. The only exception was a small shrine to the Virgin and that was carefully secured. Tracy emerged from the head carrying a bathrobe. There was a towel folded across his arm.

  “Here. If you want to shower. And we’ll find you some clothes. Luis is about your height. They won’t be fancy unless he gives up one of his charro suits for you.”

  “Anything will be fine. After all, every possession I had with me is dust now.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged. “It’s all right, it’s all replaceable.” She paused. “Well, not everything. Not my crews.” Her throat hurt for an instant as she swallowed the guilt. “Maybe it’s a good thing my Distinguido Servicio Cruzar is gone—”

  “I expect they’ll give you another one,” Tracy interrupted harshly.

  “Since they are awarded for extreme gallantry and risk of life in combat with an armed enemy, I expect getting wiped out by exploding moons won’t qualify. No, I hardly deserve it now.” Her guilt and bitterness were leaking through. She tried to turn the subject back to him. “Is yours with you?”

  His face took on that frozen look she dreaded. “No. The day I was arrested I gave it into the care of my batBEM, Donnel.”

  “The Cara’ot.”

  “Yeah, so my medal is wherever the Cara’ot have gotten to—another galaxy, some alternate universe, who knows? Anyway, it’s gone. Like my career. You should probably rest,” he said shortly, and then abruptly he left.

  Mercedes stared at the blank door for a long moment. Talking with him was like negotiating a minefield. With a sigh she reached for the covers, then hesitated. Mercedes knew she shouldn’t snoop but she wanted to know the man he had become. She pulled open the door to the closet. Clothes neatly hung and an interesting array of styles; it seemed he played more roles then just merchant captain. The drawers held neatly folded underwear and socks, sweaters. One had a complete sewing kit. The tailor’s son was still present. In one drawer she found a crystal cube that held a small Sidone spider-silk weaving.

  Mercedes sank down on the bed, cupping the cube as if it could shatter. She could remember the day he had bought it. They had been exploring the cosmódromo that held the High Ground. Because the shopkeeper had perceived Tracy to be a friend to royalty he had sold the piece at a shockingly low price. She and Tracy had then gone on a picnic and had a fight. It seemed to be a pattern with them. She sighed and returned the weaving to its drawer. So many years and so much grief lay between that moment and now.

  She went into the tiny bathroom. A shower the size of a coffin, toilet, a small basin. Like the rest of the cabin it was spotless, but the scent of soap and aftershave floated in the air. He hadn’t changed his cologne; he had been wearing the same scent in his youth. She peed, washed her hands, and went searching for toothpaste. Her mouth tasted like chemicals. She found a tube and toothbrush, and also several packages of condoms. She took one out, sat down on the toilet and studied the gold foil-wrapped package. Who did he use them with? Did he love her? Was he married? She was shaken by the possibility. She hurriedly shoved the condom back into the drawer, squeezed toothpaste onto her finger and cleaned her teeth. She had been going to use his toothbrush. After all they had kissed, passionately, deeply, tongues fencing, but knowing there was another woman she no longer felt comfortable to use it. His lips and tongue had tasted another woman. She knew it was irrational, but couldn’t shake the sense of betrayal.

  Returning to the cabin she pulled back the covers and climbed into the bed. The scent of him was on the pillow. Tears pricked at her eyelids. She gave her head an angry shake, wiped her cheeks, and pulled the covers up to her ears.

  17

  TO DIE BRAVELY

  It fascinated Mercedes that the expedition to the planet was discussed by the entire crew. As a princess she had almost never had to justify her actions or desires. She said do and go and people did and went and that went double for any alien she might be around. The idea that she would have to explain herself to aliens was head-s
pinning. Tracy might hold the title of captain, but in this area O-Trell rules clearly did not apply. It was clear that this ship was a democracy, and she couldn’t help but think that was dangerous.

  They had gathered around the table in the galley. Mercedes hung back feeling awkwardly out of place as they debated. The Tiponi Flute, Jax, had argued strenuously against taking the ship down to the planet, pointing out that it would burn fuel that would have to be replaced, and since two days had passed without any communication from Kusatsu-Shirane it was unlikely there would be any trade or any profit to cover their costs. The Sidone spider was nervous and suggested they should maybe just leave and take the Infanta home. The Hajin doctor was concerned that the crew might not have the resources to deal with a crisis, if there was a crisis on the planet. The young human, Baca, offered to take the Talon and go down alone if everybody else was too much of a pussy. The Isanjo, who appeared to be Tracy’s first officer, pointed out that they had had no communication with ground control. They would be landing without permission and there were still four moons rigged as bombs to be negotiated. Tracy heard them all out, then stood.

  “It seems like most of you are either ambivalent or actively against setting down so we won’t—”

  Mercedes cleared her throat. They all looked at her. Large brown eyes from the Hajin and the Isanjo, the multiple faceted eyes of the Sidone, the strange ocular depressions on the Tiponi, and two pairs of human eyes. One black and the other that deep gray. They had always been Tracy’s best feature, though the raw-boned boy, and callow youth, had matured into a dignified man. She pulled her attention back to the moment.

  “Forgive me, but you are all League citizens and therefore my subjects. We need to know what happened. I need to know. The souls of the men and women I lost demand it of me.” She nodded to Tracy. “So please take us down, Captain. The League will reimburse you for any expenses incurred.”

  “Unless we get blown out of space by an exploding moon,” the Tiponi muttered.