Third Don: Ardulum, #3

by J. S. Fields

  The bar had emptied. The music was gone. The only thing Yorden could hear was the low humming sound of Mmnnuggls. They spun forward and unstacked, one by one, forming a wide halo around Yorden and levitating just below his chin height.

  “Conqueror,” one whispered.

  “Ardulan conqueror,” twittered another.

  “He fears nothing,” said a third.

  Yorden ignored them and knelt next to Salice. Her nose was not actively bleeding anymore, and while the break looked horrible, it could likely be repaired. He was more worried about the streaks of dried maroon that trailed from her ears and eyes. The captain knew all too well what Ardulans were capable of with their microkinesis. If these Ardulans had further damaged Salice… He looked back at the crumpled gatoi, watched Kimm’s shallow breaths. He was done here. Done with the Alliance and done with this Ardulum business. It was time to take Salice and go somewhere where they could both live out their lives haunted by their past, not actively engaging with it.

  “Can you stand?” Yorden asked Salice gently. He got to his feet and offered her a hand, which she took. She was not unsteady, and her eyes were sharp, focused. Pain could do that to a being. Yorden chuckled and pulled a thin strand of hair from the matted blood on her face.

  “Nothing you haven’t seen before from a Risalian, I bet.”

  That earned him a crooked smile.

  “Let’s get on our ship and get the hell out of here. Okay?”

  Salice nodded. Yorden turned back to the bar entrance, or where he remembered the entrance being. Save for the empty space above them, Mmnnuggls surrounded them completely, blocking his vision. They kept a three-meter distance from them, but their numbers had swollen to well over one hundred spheres. Where the hell had they all come from? And why were there so many colors now, from true black to flowery lilac? The tips of some of their ears were red, and the circumference of their bodies ranged from the size of Yorden’s fist to twice the size of his head. They spun around him in their stacked circles, twittering. Chanting.

  “Get out of my way!” Yorden crooked his arm in warning, and the Mmnnuggls stopped. All at once, they fell to the floor and began to vibrate. A hum rose up from the crowd, and drinking glasses across the bar shattered in a wave.

  “We obey the killer of Ardulans,” the Mmnnuggls chanted in unison. “We obey Terran Yorden Kuebrich, the Conqueror.”

  Chapter 5: N’lln, Capital of Neek

  Ardulum will come to us. How can they not, when we burn their gods?

  —Transmission from Leader Oorpp to the dissident fleet, January 19th, 2061 CE

  JANUARY 19TH, 2061 CE

  Three circles on the inside of zir left wrist. Three circles on zir right. Outside, in the light of the Neek sunrise, Ekimet stroked the darkened veins with precision. The secondary markings were thick and braided, contouring zir bones and muscles, and looked striking against zir translucent brown skin. The marks brought no comfort, however—no feeling of accomplishment. They felt the same as the Hearth markings—slightly raised from the skin and soft under zir fingers—but the circles meant something very different from the hexagons on zir shoulder. They were not a monument to Ekimet’s adulthood, nor an indicator of zir primary abilities. A new eld could only flare into existence if a previous one died. If the circles were here, on Ekimet’s wrists, it meant that Ekimet was now also of Science. That zie was an eld. It also meant Eld Savath, zir friend and mentor, was dead.

  You’ve got it on the wrong way, Ekimet! The sash ties on the right hip. Here, I’ll show you.

  Memories of Savath’s voice filled Ekimet’s head, a mixture of high-pitched childhood, excited adolescence, and the intensity of age. Fragments of images accompanied the snippets of conversation. Visions of Savath’s markings. Of Ekimet tracing the new Hearth Talent hexagons on Savath’s shoulder when zie had flared, marveling at the metamorphosis. Of their last conversation together on Ardulum, when Savath had acquiesced to death on Ekimet’s thirtieth birthday and Ekimet had, unknowingly, ascended.

  They had only been a year apart. Yet, that year had made so much difference. Memories taunted Ekimet.

  The others won’t notice we’ve gone. This door leads to the kitchens. I’m sure we can find some spiced andal to eat! Come on!

  A Science Talent, Ekimet! Can you believe it? The Eld have already set up my apprenticeship on New Ubtarot. I leave in the morning, but I’ll send you a message as soon as I get there. We won’t lose contact, I promise!

  Zie still didn’t understand why. Why had Savath gone willingly into death? Why had it been so important for Ekimet to become an eld? Why hadn’t Savath taken the time to explain things?

  The only certainty was that the markings were real. Now that the bruising had cleared, Ekimet could no longer pretend that they were anything else. It had been plausible, at first, for the bruising to have been from an injury. Possibly from zir fall in the medical bay just before departing for the Neek planet, when the bird had crashed through the window and injured Savath. As the days had turned—as the healing progressed and the veins themselves became more prominent and defined—denial had been harder to come by. One month had passed since Ekimet and Miketh first arrived on the planet Neek, and now the last of the purple-green had finally faded away.

  You’re so grown, Ekimet. I’m sorry I couldn’t make your Talent Day. The New Ubtarot people had a tsunami in their northern hemisphere. The research sites had to be preserved. You’ll make a great Hearth Talent though. I know it.

  The muffled sound of a glass hitting the floor told Ekimet that zir third-don Mind assistant, Miketh, was finally up. Zie pulled the sleeves of zir robes back down and secured them with elastic bands.

  The markings had been a shock. They shouldn’t have been, but they were. When they’d arrived, Ekimet hadn’t had any time to spend contemplating the headaches, the whispering in zir mind, and the pain in zir wrists. There had been too much to do. Too much to prepare for. Zie hadn’t even had time for a bath.

  Then, there had been the battle, over a heartbeat after it began. The Mmnnuggls had obliterated their small Ardulan fleet, only sparing the Neek ships. When it had become clear that the Mmnnuggls and their allies would not pursue them onto the planet itself, Ekimet and Miketh had bid the high priest good night and retired to their shared room in the Ardulan Temple. Once inside, head still swimming with the deaths of zir people, Ekimet had stripped for the bath. Finally. Zie had grabbed for the edge of the tub and just missed, slamming zir wrist instead. Pain had shot up zir arm. Zie had yelled.

  That’s when zie had seen them. That’s when Miketh had seen them, as she barged in to see what was wrong. A second set of markings. Suddenly, the whispering in zir head had finally made sense. Ekimet’s mind was now host to billions of scattered thoughts of the andal trees that populated Neek and, if Ekimet listened closely enough, probably the ones on Ardulum as well. Zie was a living vessel for the andal, a caretaker to a sentient planet zie was only just coming to understand. Yet, zie was trapped on Neek, a sacrifice that now had far more consequences than what the previous Eld had likely foreseen.

  Ekimet! I have to tell you what happened at my third-don birthday celebration! Meet me behind the main thrones in the Eld Palace. I have a key and will leave the door open for you. I’ll tell you how I got it tonight.

  In theory, it also meant that Ekimet had a direct link to the other two elds who formed the Ardulan triarchy. The connection should have been instantaneous—an immediate effect of the flare—yet Ekimet could feel no Ardulan presence other than Miketh’s. Ardulum had moved. Ekimet had felt that much. Where the planet was now, zie had no idea. Zie knew Eld Adzeek and Eld Asth a little—not enough to call them friends, but enough to find their minds within a din if needed.

  Yet, no matter how long Ekimet searched, their presences eluded zir. That likely meant that they, too, were dead. New elds were in place, a male and female. Without any sort of familiarity, Ekimet had no way of reaching them. Zie could have sent a communicat
ion if zie had had the planet’s new coordinates. That zie had received no communications, telepathic or otherwise, likely meant the new elds were unaware of zir assignment to Neek as well. Moreover, there was no way to physically find Ardulum so soon after the move, as the andal chose seemingly random destinations. In theory, the planet shouldn’t even have been able to move without all three elds on-world. Something was very wrong, but there was no way to check in. Ekimet could have put Miketh on one of the settees to see if their Alliance contacts knew of Ardulum’s new location, but she’d never get through the blockade. They were stranded on Neek, likely for the rest of their lives. Savath was dead. Ekimet was alone.

  It’s not a safe assignment, Ekimet. I wish I could tell you it was. Ggllot is unstable, and it needs a steady hand. I wish I could keep you safe here, in the palace. Wrap you in cotton and protect you from the galaxy. I can’t. We need you to go to Ggllot. Will you accept this assignment?

  Another crash came from inside the room. Ekimet straightened the sash on zir gold robes and leaned against the balcony handrail. Miketh was just on the other side of the wooden doors to their suite in the temple, probably fussing with the andal breakfast service. Instead of returning inside to partake, zie deeply inhaled the morning air. The smell of Neek was very similar to Ardulum, and that was a small comfort. Unfortunately, the similarities to their imprisonment on the Mmnnuggl homeworld of Ggllot were just as potent. There were no Mmnnuggls on Neek, mercifully, but Ekimet and Miketh were still being harbored at the capital’s temple, for their own safety.

  Ekimet shook zir head in frustration and looked up at the sky. What should have been a breathtaking sunrise was mired in black and silver as the rebel fleets continued to orbit Neek. Streaks of yellow were just starting to spear the atmosphere. In another few minutes, the leaflets would begin to fall. Their week was up. If the Mmnnuggls were true to their word, paper would not be the only thing falling today, and it would no longer be just the Neek’s religion that was being tested.

  The door to the balcony pushed open. Ekimet turned at the sound of hesitant footfalls and smiled at Miketh lingering in the doorway. Her short, dark hair had grown since they’d arrived and now framed her face in a very un-Miketh-like manner. She had already donned her gold robes, but the sash was undone and hung from her shoulders. She looked at Ekimet for permission to approach, her gaze on zir face but settled just below the gatoi’s eyes. Ekimet stifled a sigh. They’d had the makings of friends, once. Being the only two Ardulans on Neek should have brought them closer, but there was no getting around the difference in status now. Ekimet was an eld. Miketh was a standard female Ardulan. They might as well have been different subspecies.

  “Join me, Miketh.” Ekimet leaned back against the handrail and pointed to the sky. “No fires yet, but it’s almost time for the daily mail.” Just as zie spoke, a white paper landed on the handrail, followed by another on zir shoulder.

  “The negotiations?” Miketh asked, her voice hopeful. “Last night, you spoke with their biped for almost an hour.”

  Ekimet shook zir head. “They don’t want us, Miketh. They want the planet and that Risalian flare. No amount of promising to negotiate on their behalf with the Eld, or any type of compensation, is working. They remain tight-lipped about their technology, as well.” Ekimet pulled the paper from zir shoulder and quickly read the text.

  “What today?” Miketh asked with a grimace.

  Ekimet read the flyer aloud. “‘Science: The andal genus is native to over three hundred known worlds, with multiple, distinct species. The genus is defined by its sentience and mild telepathic abilities. Ardulum itself is composed of only one andal species. Myth: The andal is a more special lifeform than a sphere or biped. The andal bestows godlike abilities on the Ardulans. Truth…’ And then it goes on at length about andal genetics and how the Ardulan andal is trying to wipe out competition.” Ekimet wiped a hand over zir face. “The Neek probably won’t get most of the genetic stuff, but still. The Mmnnuggls have quite a way with words.”

  “Not any worse than yesterday’s at least. The one three days ago though, with the genetic sequences of Ardulans and Neek side by side…”

  Ekimet crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it to the ground. “I know. The high priest tries not to talk about it, but I know. I see it in our escorts’ faces when we leave the temple. I can hear it in the minds closest to us.”

  Miketh took a tentative step closer. “Eld…” she trailed off.

  Ekimet offered her a hand, which she took. They moved towards each other, touched shoulders, and lingered in the contact. How long, do you think? Miketh asked. How long until this is another Ggllot?

  I don’t know. The Neek aren’t the Mmnnuggls. They’re not angry we’re not gods—they’re hurt. I don’t think all of them are fully convinced of our similarities. Not yet. But, hurt…hurt is far worse than angry. If their forests start to burn, it will likely push them over the edge.

  Miketh opened their connection and let some of her emotions spill over. I didn’t want to hurt them like this, Eld. Do you think…there could be a way to talk to them about the andal? Make our own flyers perhaps? Not worshipping us is fine, but to deny the andal…that only hurts them more.

  Ekimet gently pulled away from the embrace. It was comforting to share the moment with Miketh. They both needed reassurance. A moment was all it could be, however. The high priest would arrive soon for the morning briefing. The two Ardulans had to look the part of gods. It was the least they could do for the man who had showed them nothing but unwavering devotion.

  “Have you ever burned an andal, Eld?” Miketh asked.

  “We shouldn’t talk about this right now, Miketh,” Ekimet said, more because zie didn’t want to think about what andal screams would sound like with zir new heightened telepathy. “If it happens, when it happens, we…we’ll work with the people to put them out. The Heaven Guard have already modified their ships to carry water instead of…whatever they carried before. We’ll fight the fire. We’ll show the Neek people that we stand with them against the Mmnnuggls.”

  Miketh nodded, but her eyes remained worried. Ekimet could only guess at her thoughts. Zie would not intrude. The destruction of the Neek planet was what the previous Eld had wanted. The death of Miketh and Ekimet was what the Eld had wanted. Ardulum would not come to ransom Neek. They didn’t need to save Neek. Neek was supposed to burn, but what about the andal? Could they torture their own gods? What was more painful, more vicious, than a slow death by incineration?

  A quick rap came from the corridor outside the room. Miketh pushed from the railing and jogged across their shared living space to the door, which she briskly opened. Behind it stood the High Priest of Neek in gold robes piped with crimson, a color distinction Ekimet still did not fully understand. To make the outfit more ridiculous, the scallop of the collar and flare to the sleeves was more exaggerated than on the Ardulans’ robes. The Neek take on the historic outfits worn by all Ardulans during the time of Neek’s seeding was comical at best. Only the Ardulan elds still wore golden robes. They looked silly, especially on a Neek.

  This, however, did not seem to bother the elderly man. He walked towards Ekimet, robes billowing ridiculously behind him. The priest stopped in the doorway to the balcony, and Miketh slid past him, rejoining Ekimet. This time, she stood closer, the hemlines of their robes slipping against one another in the light breeze. Ekimet moved zir arms behind zir back and checked zir sleeves, ensuring that the elastic held the fabric fully against zir wrists. There would be a time to disclose zir new status to the high priest and the general population: this was not it.

  The priest held out a thin piece of biofilm, which Ekimet took, scanned, and then read aloud. “‘The Heaven Guard continue with their monitoring in the lower atmosphere. We have reports of four more skirmishes between the Alliance vessels since yesterday morning. In addition, we estimate twenty of the new ships for which we have no classification…’” Zie trailed off as the priest’s ey
es wandered to the sky. “They may be fighting with one another, but we haven’t seen any pods enter the atmosphere yet.” Ekimet spoke gently, wanting to soothe the priest. “I’m sure the settee pilots will know before we do if the skirmishes threaten Neek.”

  “We still don’t know why the Alliance ships are attacking one another?” Miketh asked as she read over Ekimet’s shoulder. “These minor skirmishes remain tactically dubious in my mind. Always smaller skiffs—always with minor retaliation by the target. It can’t be about fighting over limited resources or just general boredom. They’ve been at this for a week.”

  “Today, there was no retaliation.” The priest’s thick white hair fell over his eyes, and he brushed it away, careful to keep his gaze from meeting Ekimet’s. “My lords, the Heaven Guard report that, over the past thirty hours, sixteen of the small Mmnnuggl pods were fired upon by a range of Alliance ships and several Risalian skiffs. The pods did not move. They did not retaliate. Of those affected, only two broke apart. Just in the last hour, the intact small pods finally returned fire. A single shot each, directly to one other small skiff. All of these skiffs sustained significant damage. Now…”

  “Now?” Ekimet prodded. Zie rolled up the biofilm and handed it back to the priest.

  “Now, the Mmnnuggls are helping the damaged ships repair. It would seem that Lord Miketh’s suspicions from yesterday are confirmed.”

  “They’re still testing their new weapons,” Miketh muttered. “And we still don’t know what they are.”

  “Not just weapons,” Ekimet added. “New shielding too. A few Ardulan shots got through when our fleet engaged them. Looks like they don’t want that happening again.”

  The priest shifted his weight and met Ekimet’s eyes. “Forgive me, my lords, but—” He pulled another biofilm from his robes and held it out. On it was an illustration of an oval ship, purely silver, and a standard large Mmnnuggl pod drawn just below it.