by J. Naomi Ay
Behrat gazed out the window, at the stars rising overhead as nighttime fell for the last time on his home planet. Tomorrow, he’d be up amongst those stars. Tomorrow, he’d be on his way to a distant and foreign one. Tomorrow, both Reva and Elise would be on their own ships, with their own families, heading there, too.
“Are we all going to make it?” Behrat asked his friend, who he could almost see in the silvery light of the Rozarian moon.
“Some will. Some won’t. That is the way of it.”
“What about Reva?”
Behrat’s friend smirked, almost in the same way that his brother did, or at least, this was how Behrat imagined his friend responded. He wouldn’t answer yes or no. Behrat could never nail him down to a definitive answer, which made Behrat think that maybe, he was really an imaginary figment after all. The prince still liked him, though. It was better to have an imaginary friend, than no one.
Down the hill at the base of the palace, the evening lights of the city flickered on. Behrat liked to watch that bright one directly across from his window, even though it was far away, on the other side of the river. Like an enormous star, its familiar flashing kept him company when he couldn’t sleep.
“It’s the entrance to a shopping mall, you idiot,” Kirat had said, when Behrat had asked how a star could be so low to the ground. They were in the midst of a Heroes & Conquerers battle on level twelve. “They keep it lit brightly so everybody will know that the mall is still open. It’s called advertising, doofus. It’s a big sign that says, Come Shop Here.”
“Oh,” Behrat had said, and let Kirat win the round, so he wouldn’t get punched or called any other names.
Behrat had never been inside a mall. In fact, there were precious few times he had gone outside of the palace.
It wasn’t safe, they always said. Not until Kirat married Elise, and had a son.
Then, someone else would become the spare heir, and Behrat would be free to go and do whatever he wanted.
Then, it would be too late. The shopping mall would be gone, as well as all the restaurants and cafes.
Tonight, people were shopping, or sitting outside, sipping coffee and eating cakes. Tomorrow, they’d all be dust. Karupatani would be dead, except for the King and all of his dukes, who would be racing away, hoping they managed to escape.
In the meantime, Behrat would be trapped inside his spacesuit, needing to use the bathroom, but having no way to get out, and do it. His brother would be laughing at his predicament, and calling him a fool. The Queen would hungry for her treats and bread, while his father, the King would be hiding alone in his own room, consulting with his imaginary friend, and writing nonsense in his books.
“You’re coming with me, right?” Behrat turned to the shadows, to the ghostly image of his own imaginary friend.
“Of course, I am. I’m right here, behind your shoulder.”
“And, you’ll be there tomorrow?” Behrat persisted.
“And, the next day, and the one after that. I’ll be in your shadow throughout your entire journey to Rehnor.”
Chapter 8
Beryl didn’t want to leave her patients. She enjoyed her work, and her life, in general. She was happy with the arrangement between Turak and herself. He was gone most of the time, traveling in his job, while she spent her days at the clinic, and her nights alone in their big bed. A good book was all the company she wanted, or needed then, which she found both mildly worrisome and completely acceptable.
She, also, didn’t want to leave her mother, Bonita, who lived alone in a small house three blocks away. Beryl’s mother called her four times a day. Two times in between, Beryl called Bonita, and then again, right before she went sleep. This was her routine whether or not Turak was beside her in bed. Turak understood this, although at times, he found it mildly disturbing.
On the other hand, he was away so often, and on secret missions where he would have no contact for days, or even weeks. During those times, he was glad Beryl had her mother to worry about. If Turak never came home, the transition back to her mother’s world would happen almost seamlessly. Knowing this made him feel a little better.
When Turak did come home, usually for only a few days each month, it was almost like thirty years ago when he and Beryl were still kids, and just getting to know each other. They were happy to see each other, anxious to hear each other’s news, thrilled by the other’s presence, and charmed by the sound of the other’s voice.
A few days later, that voice began to grate on the other’s nerves. Instead of welcome, the break in their usual routines became annoying and intrusive. They both knew that Turak didn’t care about Beryl’s co-workers, or her patients.
In fact, whenever she brought up a procedure or some odd condition, which she had encountered, Turak would purposely tune it out. Images of blood or cystic growths would turn his stomach, something Beryl conveniently, or purposely, never remembered. Turak also found the discussion of his mother-in-law’s broken dishwasher less stimulating than staring out the window at the empty suburban street. Bonita’s issues with her neighbor’s dogs put Turak to sleep.
Beryl felt the same about Turak’s conversation, which was cryptic, revealing only tiny bits about his job. She understood that he was doing something the government considered classified, on some top-secret mission which he referred to as ‘Being in the Dark’.
Frankly, Beryl would have preferred to know nothing at all. Instead of discussing the technicalities of what he was doing, while still feeling a need to contribute information about his life, Turak talked endlessly about his co-workers, especially this woman he called Captain Hannah.
The first time he brought up Hannah, Beryl was interested. She liked to hear about other strong, successful women besides herself. Hannah was a pilot, one of the few women qualified in fighter aircraft. Hannah was as tough as any of the men, even though she was half their size. Hannah was also on this mission. Hannah’s team beat Turak’s in the target competition, but only by a fraction. He’d get her next time.
The more she heard about Hannah, and the more this unknown woman became the sole focus of Turak’s conversation, the more it irritated Beryl.
“Are you having an affair with her?” Beryl demanded, one morning over breakfast. Turak had been home for only ten hours, but Beryl could swear she had heard Hannah’s name mentioned at least one hundred times. “Is that where you are when you say you’re away in the Dark?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Turak had scoffed. “She’s just a co-worker.”
Did she detect a hint of regret in his voice? Was there a tiny bit of longing that made Beryl think Turak wished it was something more?
“Is she pretty?”
Beryl wanted to slap herself for asking such a foolish question, for sounding so vulnerable, for comparing herself to this unknown woman based solely upon their looks. Still, she wanted to know. Beryl was fifty, and she wasn’t getting any younger. Her body was growing soft, and starting to sag. Her face had a few lines. Her hair had started to gray.
Turak paused for a long time before answering. Yes, would get him in trouble, but No was definitely a lie. Someday Beryl might meet Hannah, and then, he’d be in even more trouble.
“Well???”
“She’s…” Turak began carefully. “She’s striking, but she’s also…hard. Hannah is very hard. There’s something about her which is incredibly attractive, but at the same time, there’s a coldness that pushes you away.”
“She’s an Ice Queen,” Beryl pronounced, returning to her coffee and soft boiled egg.
“She’s a highly competent spaceship captain, like I am,” Turak stated, his voice growing quiet. The phone was ringing anyway with Bonita’s first morning call, and both of them had meetings at their offices.
That night, Turak asked Beryl to come with him.
“We need a doctor aboard,” he explained. “The King’s personal physician is old. He couldn’t withstand our initial test flight.”
“And, yo
u think I can?” Beryl had her back to her husband. It was his second night home in a month, and they had made love, but it had satisfied only him.
“You’re a lot younger, and you’re in great condition.” He squeezed her buttocks, and then, reached around and patted her tummy.
“I’m soft.” Unlike Captain Hannah who is hard, she didn’t add.
“You’re tough. I suggested you. They like that. We’re a married couple. That makes you more emotionally stable than a single woman amongst all the single men.”
“You are going to leave me forever if I don’t come,” Beryl realized. “You knew that when you started training for this mission.”
Turak shifted to his back, and lit a cigarette. He stared at the ceiling, at the wisps of gray smoke spiraling upward in tiny clouds.
“I want you to come, Beryl. I still love you, and you’ll have nothing here. Frankly, if we leave that means everyone, including you will be dead.”
“My mother. You’re asking me to make a choice between you and my mother.”
“I’m telling you, there is no choice. You have the chance to live. You’ll be one of only a handful of people when this is done.”
Beryl closed her eyes and tried to sleep, pretending she needed time to make the decision, even though she knew in heart, she wouldn’t go. She didn’t want a life being one in a handful. She didn’t want a life without her mother. She didn’t want a life dependent on Turak for survival, or this Captain Hannah.
“I’m staying,” she told Bonita the next day.
“No, you’re not. You’re going with him.”
Beryl was standing on Bonita’s kitchen table changing a lightbulb overhead. She handed the burnt one down to her mother, who didn’t quite grasp it. With a crash, it tumbled to the floor, shattering into tiny fragments of filament and glass.
“Don’t move,” Bonita said, heading to the closet for her broom. “You stay there until I clean this up.”
“I won’t leave without you,” Beryl declared, while Bonita swept around her.
“Of course you will.” Bonita bent to collect the shards into her dustpan. When she rose again, there were tears rolling down her withered cheeks. “I am your mother. I want nothing more than for you to live. You go with your husband, and do your duty to our good king.”
In the end, Beryl left, but only after Bonita refused to take her calls, or answer the door when her daughter stood outside knocking, even if she was standing in pouring rain.
For the next few months, Beryl trained with Turak’s crew, and she met the other captains, including Hannah, who, incidentally, she agreed was hard.
Beryl packed the medicine and equipment on the recommended lists, and discussed strategies with the other doctor, and two nurses who were all traveling on separate ships. She studied the medical history of her new patients and fellow travelers, which included only the Royal Family, Lord Wooter, and Turak’s men. When the day came to set sail, at the moment they blasted off en route to the nearest star, despite all her preparations, Beryl wasn’t ready.
Beryl was glad they didn’t have to wear spacesuits, although it complicated her task of keeping everyone on board healthy. Staving off the space sickness, a catchall term for just about anything that could happen to a body suspended without natural gravity while hurling through outer space, required a specific regime. It wasn’t all that difficult or complex to consume the right amount of water and nutrients, or exercise and rest at moderate levels.
However, twice during their test flights, Beryl had witnessed crewmen succumb. One lost the ability to control his muscles after only one day in space. The other bled out, hemorrhaging from what had begun as a common nose bleed.
Beryl was left with both a sense of uselessness and hopelessness. She couldn’t stop the sickness once it started, and she couldn’t anticipate when or if it would attack. The normal protocols apparently didn’t apply, which meant the normal treatments wouldn’t work either.
Initially, Beryl’s largest concern had been the Queen, as the woman was quite large and inactive. Her daily caloric consumption had been immense, primarily consisting fo carbohydrates. Had she been any other person, she would have been ruled out as a candidate for this trip.
Both the princes should have been fine. They were young, strong, and seemingly well adjusted. Their activity levels were high, but their muscles and bones were still growing, another point of apprehension for Beryl.
“We haven’t tested children,” she had protested during an early meeting with the crew.
“You can’t tell the King to leave his children home,” Turak had scoffed. “Figure out what you’ll need to do.”
Beryl hadn’t figured out anything. Instead, as the ship took off, she watched the boys crowding against the window, shoving each other aside to gain the better view. Their voices rose excitedly in the otherwise silent room.
“Kari-fa! Did you see that, Behrat?”
“Where? What? I was looking at that one!”
“Over there. That looks like a direct hit on Kudisha. Kari-fa! We barely made it out alive.”
Silently, Beryl prayed that they would complete this voyage as energetically as they departed now.
The King, Lord Wooter and his new wife were also not a concern to Dr. Beryl. Although Wooter was overweight, his skin was healthy, and his color robust. While the explosions sent streaks of white and yellow light soaring across their cabin, Wooter briefly exchanged glances with Beryl, nodding to her slightly, the first greeting between them, between any of them and her.
“We are no longer princes and potentates,” he announced softly. “We are all now merely mortals, men amongst men.”
The King, well, who could judge his mental state? Decimating one’s entire kingdom and home planet ought to leave anyone with a large degree of angst. Beryl observed him as they breached the thermosphere, noting the slight release of tension in his face as the small ship burst free of the planet’s gravity and reached for the distant star.
His eyes were closed, his lips moving slightly, silently, she assumed in prayer. Or, was he speaking to someone, a ghost, a spectral, an angel perhaps? His medical records stated all this and more. Whomever he conversed with, the King believed strongly in his existence. From his youth to now, well into middle age, Karukan could not be persuaded his figment manifested only in his mind.
Otherwise, he was perfectly normal, healthy, strong and fit, a man in his prime. He should survive this voyage well, arriving on the new planet in a physical condition ready to take command. If only his mind arrived as intact as his muscles.
The King lifted his eyes just then, meeting Beryl’s with his own darkly, piercing gaze. He was a handsome man, a beautiful man, much more so in person than he had ever appeared upon the TV. Beryl’s first instinct was to reach for her phone, to call Bonita, to report exactly this.
“Mom, I’ve got so much to tell you about this voyage, about the King.”
Bonita was gone. Her phone was gone. Her broken dishwasher, her kitchen table, her neighbor’s annoying barking dog, everything and everyone had been reduced to dust.
Beryl’s throat caught. She gasped a little, as if trying to catch her breath. A tiny tear left a trail upon her cheek.
The King held out his hand, offering Beryl a handkerchief. It was starkly white, perfectly pressed and folded exactly so. In one corner, in gold thread, a tiny crown was stitched, his initials, KdK in black below.
“Thank you, Sir,” Beryl whispered, lifting her eyes to his face, once again.
His eyes were so dark they were nearly black, as if the iris consisted of nothing more than a giant pupil. They seemed unreadable, but penetrating, as if he could see directly into her mind, as if he knew her every thought.
“Keep it,” he replied, breaking the spell.
Chapter 9
Karukan sat at his desk, or rather what sufficed for a desk in the small closet allocated for his office. It was in a corner adjacent to the family room, the somewhat large area
below the main cabin used by his family, whilst the crew shared all the quarters upstairs.
At the time the ships were commissioned, he knew he would be desperate for a private space. As king, he certainly was entitled to configure the ship solely for his pleasure. However, that wouldn’t be fair. Not to his family, and certainly, not to the hardworking crew.
Despite it all, Karukan was still a fair man. He insisted his needs could be accommodated with as little space as possible. To that end, what would have become the private family bathroom, became instead his shipboard den. This required all members of the family to use the single lavatory up the stairs, something only Lorena found the least bit inconvenient.
Karukan spent nearly all of his time in that closet, at a metal table built into the wall, perched upon a chair that was nothing more than a small stool. He had a collection of pens and pencils, and a seemingly endless supply of paper, for he knew once the batteries expired on his electronic tablet, it would be useless.
Beyond that, there was room enough for only a small crate, which was filled with protein wafers, the equivalent of a month’s worth of food. Whenever anyone was invited into the King’s sanctum, or else required some of Karukan’s time, it was upon this crate where they sat and made their petition.
Most often though, Karukan sat alone, a blank sheet of paper on the table before him, a sharpened pencil at the ready in his hand. Although days and weeks, even months had passed, his hand failed to transcribe a word, to record what he had witnessed, and why.
How could one even begin to explain the reasons for making a decision such as he had done? After centuries of wars, after deaths, countless deaths, he had brought an end to it forever with death to all.
Did he really believe it would have come to that? No. A thousand times no. Surely, if he had, he would have stopped it long before it became too late. He had thought, truly he did, that up until the very last moment, Kalila would have held his hand up and called for peace.