The Symbionts of Murkor

by Tarulli, Gary

  “It is—more than generous,” Ellis responded, stirred by the magnitude of offer and the affable manner in which it was presented. “I am, however, hesitant to accept.”

  “You must,” Garcia entreated. “As a favor to me. My obligation to you—no, our friendship, requires it.”

  “I foresee much trouble in this for you,” Ellis responded. “Ultimately, you will be censured for your largess. Unión will demand it.”

  “Speaking plainly, Commander, there may be an order or two of your own that Coalition is likely to frown upon—subjugating partisan advantage to protect the welfare of an adversary. I will construe your silence as ascent.” Garcia shifted his focus to encompass Ellis’s fellow officers. “The three of you have endured tremendous hardship. Risked your lives. My crew and I believed ours lost. What do any of us have to fear from the displeasure of our superiors?” Garcia returned his attention to Ellis. “Please, rest easy concerning my future. I can assure you it is the least of my worries.”

  “You are very persuasive, Comandante,” she said. “On behalf of a grateful Zenith, I accept—predicated on one small condition.”

  “Small or large, name it.”

  “That any water rights Nadir grants to Zenith be contingent upon both parties entering into a collaborative venture.” Ellis looked to Davis. She didn’t have to ask.

  “Anecrecium output—and profits—will triple over IMC’s original projections,” the Lieutenant volunteered. “Too bad,” he added, smirking, “Kreechum won’t see any of it.”

  “A partnership,” Ellis continued, “entitling Nadir, and thereby Unión, to a significant portion of mining profits. There will be details to sort out. I would expect you to exact a hard bargain.”

  Garcia, contemplating the proposal’s potential ramifications, broke into a broad smile. “I accept your ‘condition.’ May it go beyond resolving the trivial problems you and I face. An opportunity to bridge a divide—”

  “Oh, I can guarantee you’ll make fast friends,” Stewart said. “Just as soon as the IMC techs learn of their good fortune.”

  “An open invitation is extended to you and your crew,” Ellis said.

  “I look forward to the opportunity,” Amanda commented. She had wisely given up on snaring Davis, but a new watering hole populated with male techs meant her personal drought would, in all likelihood, be over.

  “Perhaps Unión will be embarrassed into letting me overhaul this disaster,” Carlos said, envisioning the changes he would make to Nadir.

  “In a few months’ time, Gustavo agreed, “who knows what will be possible? You might replace your Cro-Magnon bags of rocks with some proper weight-training equipment.”

  “That’s what they were for,” Davis said. “Clever.”

  “My, we’re an agreeable bunch this morning,” Roya observed. “Must be something in the water.”

  The jest earned a lighthearted groan or two and, in those not so diverted, even a curious bit of reflection.

  “Mariana, I regret leaving you with a medical mystery,” Stewart said.

  “If not us, who will solve it?” Mariana wondered.

  “Allow me—” Garcia said, trailing his words as if he had handily unlocked the puzzle.

  “Comandante? Seriously?” Mariana asked.

  “Yes, and with very little difficulty, simply by using the evidence hiding in plain sight. You see, during the last several days I have witnessed a pronounced change in our behavior, a predilection to support each other emotionally and physically as the trying circumstances dictated. I can personally attest to this behavior blossoming in my crew. Clearly, Commander Ellis, the same sentiment took possession of you and yours during the perilous journey to Nadir. Based on recent events, those details you have been kind enough to disclose to me, the same altered state of mind seems to have taken hold at Zenith. Is that so?”

  “It is,” Ellis answered.

  “Even more remarkably, and this goes to the heart and soul of my revelation, there is the interaction between us: On your part, and accomplished at considerable risk, the timely restoration of our atmosphere; on our part, providing the water resources necessary to sustain your crew. Water for oxygen. Each of us contributing an essential constituent for life. For human life. Strange behavior indeed coming from adversaries who, much to their own detriment, have more often acted like they belonged to two entirely different species.”

  Garcia paused briefly to let the thought sink in.

  “And so, with due respect to Captain Stewart, the evidence supports Commander Ellis’s contention, enlarged upon by Lieutenant Davis, that an organism on this planet is behaving symbiotically. With the same kind regard afforded your opinion, Commander, Lieutenant, I know this: It is we who are the Symbionts of Murkor.”

  Silence is often a sign of appreciation. At last, someone said, “Do you hear that?”

  Except no one did.

  Which was exactly the point.

  Even the fumaroles were quiet.

  ***

  “Nicely done,” Ellis complimented, stepping up into the CAM-L.

  Garcia maintained his usual modesty. “I merely put an agreeable gloss on a valid disagreement.” Then, as the others said their good-byes, he leaned in and whispered in her ear words only she could hear: “I expect you’ll be proven right.”

  With final plans and promises having been made, Zenith’s crew headed away, leaving Nadir’s pyramid to be swallowed up in the murk behind them.

  Ellis reflected on all that transpired. She had come to Murkor with a single-minded purpose and would come away with far more. She had no reservations concerning Garcia. He would follow through. As a symbiont, it was in his nature.

  A glance at Davis and Stewart showed them to be smiling.

  She allowed herself a feeling of satisfaction: The down payment she made to fulfilling a commitment being more substantial than previously imagined.

  More than she could have reasonably hoped for.

  Verging on a future of self-forgiveness.

  How soon, she wondered, would everyone realize she had unrecognized help.

  16. The Best of All Possible Worlds

  LIPS PRESSED TIGHT, EYES narrowed, corners turning down into a vaguely menacing squint. There was no mistaking his intent. He would respond to the provocation.

  “We’ll have to be quiet,” Ellis said, aroused by the danger. Of all the people in the world, she alone knew what to expect.

  “Good luck with that,” Davis replied.

  They were side by side on the bed. On the brink of touching.

  Self-denial can be a most exquisite form of torture.

  “Don’t move,” he threatened. “I’m going to take my sweet time.” Propping his head up with one arm, he began tracing a circle around the outline of her nipples, watching as they stiffened beneath a sheer chemise that barely covered her hips. Grabbing a spaghetti strap, he forced it down over the smooth roundness of her shoulder, revealing the fullness of her breast.

  “Put it in your mouth,” she pleaded. “Suck on it.”

  He shook his head, choosing instead to gently bite her unexposed nipple through the gown’s thin silken fabric. Not fair, she thought, loving him for it. Swallowing hard, she reached over, freeing his hard shaft from his shorts. Wrapping her fingers tightly, she began to stroke, drawing excitement from the feel of swollen veins throbbing beneath hot skin.

  “No,” he said, his voice hoarse, moving her hand away. “Today, I give the orders. “Flip. On your stomach.”

  As she complied, he jammed a pillow beneath her hips. “Something for you to hump.” More of a command than a statement, and she didn’t need a playbook, enticing him with the fluid undulating motion of her back. She was incredibly supple, a lifetime of yoga giving her a physicality that had some decidedly pleasurable benefits. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, softly kissing the nape of her neck, then slowly moving down the curvature of her spine, lingering there with a teasing flick of the tongue.

 
“I want you inside me,” she said in a moan, raising her hips.

  “Say it.”

  “Fuck me—please.”

  Pressing his lean body against her, delaying the inevitable, using an experienced hand to carefully caress the cleft between her buttocks.

  “Again. Say it.”

  “Fu—shhh—wait—I hear something.”

  “Ignore it?” Davis volunteered, knowing full well she wouldn’t.

  What mother could?

  One-year-old Carlie Ellis Davis, waiting to be fed, had started to cry in the next room.

  Hurriedly adjusting her nightgown, Ellis gave her spouse an affectionate peck on the cheek. “Sorry. Rain check for later?”

  He hadn’t heard that expression since returning to Earth. “I did say I’d take my time,” he responded, frustrated but in good humor. “Ten hours isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

  “You’ll be at the Institute that long?” Ellis said, referring to IHI, the Institute of Hybrid Intelligence.

  “I think we’re on the verge of a minor breakthrough.”

  “Excellent. Still meeting me later? In time for his address?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” he shouted after her as she headed for the adjoining room. “Not for the world.”

  “How long has it been—?” she shouted back, saving ‘since you’ve seen him’ for Davis to figure out.

  “Almost three years.” Discounting holos, it was the last time he saw Garcia, having left both commanding officers behind on Murkor. Entering the shower, he began to reminisce.

  He had stayed on four months after Garcia cut a lucrative deal on behalf of Unión. By the time he said his last farewell, the means to increase anecrecium production were firmly in place. Six months later, traveling interstellar, he found himself back on Earth.

  He remembered the conversation he had with El before departing (he had always referred to her as Commander when in uniform) informing her of his decision not to re-up; that a mentor position awaited him at the prestigious IHI. A perfect opportunity to develop a budding idea. “We can do this, you know,” she had insisted. What she meant was continue to keep their hands off each other.

  Maybe. Except if it was true, for him, it was only because he had refused to compromise her. “I’d be making this move whether you plan to return to Earth or not,” he had said. “But if you do return, I intend to make it impossible for you to ever leave.”

  Many long months later, having completed her tour of duty, she had appeared at the Institute. They blew right past the preliminaries. One fine morning, not long into their marriage, she looked him in the eyes and simply said “tick-tock.” Always the wiseass, he had stared back at her and said, “The sound an old timepiece makes?” Soon after, she was pregnant.

  Making him happier than he had the right to expect.

  A beautiful daughter—hmm, no longer crying in the next room.

  “Do my back?” Lieutenant Colonel Jennifer Ellis Davis said, stepping naked into the shower.

  “I’ll do more than that.” Brian Scott Davis, civilian, responded.

  ***

  Back on Murkor things were going swimmingly. Taking advantage of a plentiful water supply, three extended-range CAM-L’s with increased storage capacity were placed in service, along with two spanking new harvesters. At long last, a land-based positioning system was installed, greatly aiding surface navigation. With these, and several other improvements, anecrecium production increased beyond the wildest expectations. Garcia had re-upped for one more year. Under his and Ellis’s tenure the “boondoggle” known as Zenith came to be regarded as one of Earth’s most profitable off-world mining ventures. Sufficiently so that the Coalition politicians who previously went subterranean could poke their heads above ground and appraise the weather. Seeing it balmy, they reemerged en masse, like so many over-wintering insects, to harvest most of the credit.

  Concessions as to the involvement of others were magnanimously made, namely acknowledgement that Ellis had something to do with this vastly improved state of affairs. And so a public ceremony was held. Speeches were made. A shiny commendation was awarded. An astute observer might look below the surface to recognize this token gesture for what it was: A splendid opportunity for good PR.

  More importantly, to Ellis, her reassignment request had been granted. A month later, she assumed command of Coalition Sector 4, the expansive, arid, and equally problematic region that shared a thousand-kilometer common border with Unión. Aided by her concise, straightforward manner, her outreach efforts to local civic groups were instrumental in tamping down cross-border hostilities.

  Returning to headquarters from one such visit, Ellis entered an old adobe building, one of a cluster that had been subjected to a host of technology upgrades. Built from clay, silt and sand, the exterior walls measured a half-meter thick, acting as an effective low-tech heat sink, absorbing the heat of the daytime sun and radiating it out into a starry night. There were few windows, but those present could actually be opened—though no one ever did except her. Others hadn’t been to Murkor, where such a simple pleasure did not exist. She went to the window and inhaled fresh desert air scented with the golden blooms of sweet acacia.

  Ellis’s publically touted success on Murkor and, to a lesser degree, her accomplishments in Sector 4, had unexpectedly made her a quasi-public persona. The notoriety had come with perks, having been privileged, extraordinarily so, to be awarded two steps in military rank—first to major, then to lieutenant colonel. She had also acquired a fair degree of political capital. Realizing that this advantage would fade with time and people’s memories, she decided to put it to immediate good use, bypassing the usual channels to ensure that an officer she had served under fell within her command.

  The move allowed her an opportunity to dispatch a matter long overdue for redress.

  “Sit down, Major.”

  Major Eglend sat down.

  Ellis stared at the man. In the months before her own reassignment, stories of his misogynistic behavior had filtered up to her. None were actionable. Until now.

  “I am relieving you of command responsibilities.”

  Eglend, recovering quickly after being taken aback, had the audacity to flash a confident grin. “I see. Right to the point. On what grounds?”

  “Section A15-8. Conduct prejudicial to good order and discipline.”

  “Shall I receive substantiation? Who made this ridiculous charge?”

  “A civilian brought the complaint to my personal attention. A man.”

  “A man?” a surprised Eglend repeated. “I don’t follow.”

  “Husband to the woman you were having an affair with. Very angry. He had her under twenty-four/seven surveillance, so there’s no question of documentation.”

  Eglend sat silent for several moments, processing his predicament. Dawning on him was that none of the stratagems he used on Varian could help him now. Not the intimidation of those subjected to his unwanted overtures. Not coercion of a junior officer into providing an alibi. And certainly not reliance on the blind-eye indulgence of his immediate superior.

  “You deliberately had me transferred here,” he said angrily, losing his composure, along with a good portion of his self-confidence.

  Ellis let her silence be the answer.

  “I won’t go down easy,” Eglend commented.

  That warranted a reply. “You did once, and hard, Major. How long did it take for that broken nose to heal?” That had to be Davis rubbing off on her, she thought, repressing a smiling. Felt damn good.

  Eglend’s face turned reddish-pink, a close match to the adobe’s exterior walls. “Your action is subject to review.”

  “I’m counting on it,” Ellis replied, knowing the more attention drawn, the better. “In the meantime, pack your kit. I’m reassigning you to Langemak.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “One of the helium-3 mining operations on the flip side of the moon.”

  Although none of the sma
ll colonies were recognized by name, all were known to be dismal, depressing—and conspicuously deprived of female inhabitants.

  “There’s a word for women like you,” Eglend said.

  “Careful, Major. You’re one word away from insubordination. Now get out of my sight.”

  Major Eglend left.

  Quietly. And not before saluting.

  Would this put an end to Eglend’s reprehensible behavior? Ellis wondered. The worried look on his face told her he had gazed into the future and saw himself precariously perched atop a fuckton of bad karma. Made sense. When word got out that the Major was vulnerable to censure, the women he aggrieved would be less reticent to come forward. She sent a concise update to Stewart, who had decided to remain on Murkor: The Ego has landed. Or at least would have by the time you get this. Hint: Look up Langemak when you get the chance.

  Despite the long transmission delays, they had remained in contact, Stewart’s messages being a reliable source information. And rumors. Some, like the interbase relationship between Daniel Schulman and Nadir’s Roya Allawi, were hard to believe, fun to contemplate. Others, such as Amanda’s latest conquest, were much easier to conceive.

  It was also heartwarming to learn that the crew actually missed their “old” CO, if for no other reason she provided an excellent source of entertainment. In fact, she had departed on good terms with everyone at Zenith, especially the IMC techs. Most of them, even with their tiny productivity percentages, were becoming exceedingly wealthy.

  All, that is, except Kreechum and Anderson, who were interred on Varian for one year and three years, respectively. Brian, maintaining sporadic contact with his former friend, claimed he was beginning to express regret for his actions. Kreechum’s remorse, on the other hand, confined itself to being monetary in nature.

  Concluding the day’s business, Ellis looked ahead to attending Garcia’s speech and the dinner to follow. While packing her things to leave (she would change into an evening gown en route), an audible medical alert triggered.