by J. S. Fields
Atalant finished reading the text. Without a word, she rolled up the film, placed it in her back pocket, and walked through the crowd to the hovering skiff. She didn’t look back. She wanted to, but she kept her head forward. No one needed to see her tears, especially not a man who had already lost his sister twice. She would not reopen that wound in him, nor in the rest of her family.
ATALANT SLEPT. IT was afternoon when she finally reached her bed in the temple, and dusk when Emn was placed next to her. It was pre-dawn when Atalant next awoke, Emn spooning around her. The younger woman was covered to her chin with rayon and cotton blankets, but when Atalant turned, she could see the side of Emn’s face and, under the translucent skin, the geometric patchwork of veins. Fuzzy, like a stretched tattoo, but still there.
Atalant moved from the bed, careful not to wake Emn, and sat at the open window. She watched the third moon lower in the Neek sky and the first become obscured behind Ardulum. Curious, Atalant reached out to the andal of Neek and past it to the andal of Ardulum. She pushed past thin, reedy voices and thick, syrupy voices until she found the one she was looking for.
Atalant. The voice rumbled in her head.
Ardulum, she returned. How did you come here without the help of the Eld?
The tone of the voice changed and curled through her mind like a trail of smoke. Through the power of Corccinth and her flares and the waypoint that is Emn. Also, I am not wholly incapable. I moved myself long before Ardulans colonized me.
That was sufficiently vague to not really answer Atalant’s question, but specific enough to dissuade additional questions. Atalant changed tactics. Why did you come?
I was called.
Atalant hissed in frustration. Would you please be more specific?
Your questions are not sufficiently focused, Ardulum responded. I came because I was called, and I helped because I was asked. I protect you because you protect me.
Did all sentient trees have ridiculously circular logic? Atalant shot back a retort. If you’re so damn responsive to the needs of your people, why do you go around destroying planets? You’re sentient, far more so than the waffling andal that normally fills my head with wisps. An organism’s basic desire to reproduce, I can understand. This…genetic conquering of yours is disgusting.
The words that came back were tempered and laced with a trace of humor. The desires of the Ardulans are not necessarily yours, Atalant. So, too, are the voices of the young andal not necessarily mine. I can help direct one, but not the other. I need partners for that.
That wasn’t the response Atalant had expected. It was far too logical, and she wasn’t in the mood for logic. Frustrated, Atalant was about to retort when Emn stirred.
“Morning,” Emn yawned sleepily. She stretched and then sat up, rubbing sand from her eyes. “Have you had a chance to look at the petitions?”
Ardulum slipped from her mind.
Atalant looked around the room as she came back to sit on the bed. “Petitions?”
Emn pointed to a stack of brown papers on a small wood table near the door. It looked like it was ready to topple. “They’re letters,” she said, “from the Neek people to you. I looked through them the last time I was up. There’s a note on top from your uncle. Religious services have been going nonstop since Ardulum appeared. He doesn’t know what to tell them. The Keft and the Yishin have been talking to the Neek, but it seems to be driving the religious fanaticism, not grounding the science.” Emn brushed some hair from Atalant’s forehead. “I think the show in the sky was a little too much for your people. They want the Ardulans to come down to Neek. They want to see you.”
Any peace Atalant had gained through sleep bled away. “The replanting teams haven’t shown up yet? Arik should have gathered enough saplings together by now. Ardulum would be pleased with that, I’m sure. The Neek could help. I guess I could…give a talk? I don’t think I could do a ceremony. Maybe a…a lecture? On genetics?”
Emn released Atalant and shifted so they were sitting across from one another on the bed. She didn’t speak, but the look on her face was a strong rebuttal to Atalant’s suggestion.
They’re not going to recover from Ardulum’s arrival, are they? Atalant asked.
Emn got down from the bed. She walked to the small table, took a handful of the papers, and brought them back to the mattress, where she laid them out side by side. “Read them, love,” she said. “These aren’t letters of anger. These people are happy. They feel comforted.”
Atalant skimmed over the letters. When she got to the last one, she picked it up and held it out to Emn. “No, not all of them. This one is from a scientist demanding we allow natural regeneration in the plantations, and only with stock from unaltered old growth.” When Emn didn’t take the paper, she put it back down next to the others. “I’m sure there are more like this one. If I bring the Ardulans down, if I go to a service in golden robes and allow things to simply carry on as they were, I will destroy people like this. People like me. And if I stay here, with these markings…” She didn’t add anything about the biofilm still stashed in the pocket of her flight suit, which was crumbled in a heap.
Emn brought her head forward and brushed Atalant’s lips with her own. Unwilling to let this brief encounter be the only one of its kind this morning, Atalant pushed forward until Emn’s tongue was in her mouth. Emn’s hands found her hips and pulled them together, melded them into one form. Atalant lingered in the intimacy and took strength from its depth. But, Emn wasn’t going to let her shirk the conversation. The younger woman’s lips lingered another heartbeat and then pulled back. Atalant grumbled.
I deserve a break too, you know.
Emn pulled Atalant back to her shoulder. You do, but you won’t let yourself truly rest until you make a decision about Neek. I know you too well.
“What would you do?” she asked as Emn’s fingers trailed over Atalant’s exposed shoulder. “If you were me. Explain the science, or let the planet burn our sky and the minds of my people to religious ash?”
Emn took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’d be just as torn. I know how badly you want vindication, Atalant, and how much the distance to your family hurts you.” She stroked the inside of Atalant’s hip and then tugged, pulling Atalant partially down on top of her. Her hands slipped under the waistband of Atalant’s pants. “You’re not a cruel person, however, and denying the Neek a chance to see more of their gods could be construed as such.”
Is this an invitation? Atalant asked as she moved to her elbows and looked down at Emn.
Focus, Emn responded. She smiled up at Atalant. “You could do both, you know.”
Atalant chuckled. “I’d rather kiss than talk.”
With an exasperated sigh, Emn grabbed Atalant’s backside and pulled her back down. The resulting kiss was heated, insistent, and Atalant’s stuk changed consistency. Atalant had a moment of hope that Emn might leave the conversation until morning, but was disappointed when Emn pulled back a moment later. “I meant about Ardulum and your people.”
Sighing, Atalant sat up and moved to her knees. “This is frustrating,” she grumbled.
“You have to make a decision,” Emn countered.
“How?” she asked. “The planet is already here. I can either explain the science that I don’t fully understand myself, or I can babble on about mystic trees. There really isn’t a halfway point. I can’t just give science to a small portion of the population and leave them to battle it out with the rest.”
Emn reached over to the nightstand and opened the top drawer. From within, she drew out a thin, rigid biofilm and placed it on the bed between them. When Atalant still looked confused, Emn turned the film on and tapped a series of commands. Text began to scroll across the screen.
“The Book of the Uplifting?” Atalant picked up the film, read the first few verses, and then put it back down. “I don’t get it.”
Emn took the film and handed it back to Atalant. “The holy books, Atalant. They tell your pe
ople how to interpret Ardulum, and for centuries, they’ve just had these three. You’re an eld. You’re the Neek exile, the heretic, the daughter redeemed. Your words mean more to your people than even the other elds’. You can shape the religion, Atalant. Change it…although I’m not sure you could be present to do it. Gods are a lot more powerful when they’re absent.” Emn pointed to the window. The moons were still visible, but the sky was pinking into morning. Their suite was high enough in the temple that Atalant could see the charred remains of a plantation, devoid of all andal trees.
“You say plantation farming is killing local species. Give them another way to grow andal. Coppice your old growth onto the saplings the Ardulans bring down. Talk to them about genetics, and how modification can bring benefits if used correctly.” Emn leaned forward and kissed Atalant on the cheek. “If the Neek won’t make technological progress, then make that a tenant of worship. Let them come to Ardulum while it’s here. Let the Neek see how the Ardulans interact with the Keft and the Yishin, and especially the Risalians. Paint the Ardulans as explorers, and you’ll encourage the Neek to be the same. You have so much power, Atalant, so much influence. Use it to help your people.”
Atalant sat back, shocked at the suggestion. Who was she to write another holy book, to purposefully mislead her people and perpetuate a lie? “That has to be an abuse of power,” she said, more to herself than Emn.
“I don’t think so.” Emn brought a handful of paper from the nightstand to the bed and spread it across the surface. “Trying to convince the entire population of Neek that Ardulans are normal sentients will take you a lifetime. It would crush many, including your family. Especially your uncle.” Emn’s eyes locked on Atalant’s, and the pilot was pulled into Emn’s mind. You owe the scientists and journalists and the others like them who helped you on your journey, but maybe, just maybe, you could write it so they could find the truths they’re looking for, too.
That…seemed reasonable. Atalant tried to argue against it in her head, but Emn’s words kept coming back around. It was a good idea, and one that might walk the line her people were balancing upon.
“Would you help?” Atalant asked Emn in a whisper.
Emn nodded, a smile playing at the edges of her mouth. “Of course. Not with the writing—that has to be in your voice—but with ideas, sure.”
The whine of a settee engine sounded in the distance. Soon, people would be at their door, checking to see if they were awake and in need of food. Atalant would have to talk with her uncle and her people. She’d have to do it in golden robes, whether she liked it or not. There would probably be a few ceremonies and dinners and meetings with the other subspecies and the Risalians. There was a lot to wrap up, but maybe it wouldn’t be as complicated as Atalant had thought.
“A lot of it would be about you, though,” Atalant said after a moment as she mulled the implications of such a book. “About us. I wouldn’t have done any of this if you hadn’t come to me.”
“That seems like a really nice place to start. With us.” Emn leaned over the side of the bed and pulled Atalant’s flight suit from the floor, as well as her golden robes. She pushed the papers to one side, laid the clothes on the bedsheets, and then pulled her blue dress from the top of the nightstand and placed it just to the right of Atalant’s robes. “It’s a good story, even if you’re not a believer.”
Atalant blinked in surprise. It hadn’t occurred to her that Emn might have swallowed the Ardulan religion. After all she had seen, it seemed so…unlikely. “Emn, the planet is just a bunch of sentient andal. You know that. The Eld are just linked up to it. We’re sentient mouthpieces to sentient trees. The planet is just a big root ball that propels itself through space. It’s just weird science and physics.”
Emn tucked a stray lock of hair behind Atalant’s ear and then trailed a fingertip across Atalant’s jawline. Atalant caught unexpected emotion in the gesture, fragments of unfamiliarity and sadness tempered by a desire to protect and a very fierce love.
“Understanding the underlying mechanism doesn’t make it any less awe-inspiring,” Emn whispered into Atalant’s ear. An image of Emn’s arm, stenciled with her markings, filled Atalant’s mind. “What amazing evolution it took to get to this place. What string of unlikely events led even to you finding me, to finding Ardulum, to ascending to an eld. It’s beautiful, Atalant, and I’m proud to be a part of it.”
As Emn removed her shirt and reclined back into the pillows, Atalant followed. When Emn’s hand slid down the pilot’s stomach and lingered just shy of its target, Atalant flipped to her back and covered Emn’s hand with her own, completing the journey. When their bodies tangled together and the rest of the world fell away, it was Emn’s words that stayed in Atalant’s mind and allowed her to make the decision.
She would permanently exile herself from Neek and, in doing so, save her people.
But this time, in her exile, she wouldn’t be alone.
Epilogue
I know that, to many of you, I was a burden. I didn’t understand Ardulum, didn’t want to understand Ardulum, and so I ran from it. I accepted only facts that could be proven and conveniently ignored the ones that supported the planet’s existence.
Ardulum is real. You can see it now. Our skies once again burn orange and blue. Ardulans stand among you, have once again helped you to better understand concepts ahead of your time. They—we—have shown you how to repair the damage from the fires, how to replant and regenerate, how to move away from plantations, and how to restore native habitats. We have given you ships and technological databases that you may study should you wish to journey beyond your atmosphere.
I invite you. I beg you not to forget the old ways, but to move beyond them. Use this technology to better yourselves. Use it as a basis on which to develop your own designs. Become innovative. Redefine what it means to be a Neek. Build and grow and evolve and, when you are ready, come find us again. Join the Yishin and the Keft and so many others. You are all of Ardulum. Our planet is your birthright.
I request that you do not suffocate science in our absence, that you encourage growth and questioning. For without these things, I never would have left Neek. I would never have found my destiny. Ardulum is not hurt by questions or doubt. Ardulans do not need to be worshipped, nor does the andal. That you do so is an honor that we cherish, but not one that we require. Let your youths grow as they will. Let your scientists challenge your knowledge. There is so much to learn. There is so much to explore. Never stop questioning, this I beg you.
I know as I stand here in my golden robes, bearing the markings of an Ardulan eld, that I seem awe-inspiring. Yet, I am Neek. I was born in N’lln. I was almost a settee pilot in the Heaven Guard. I fought with you against the Mmnnuggls and the Risalians and even the Ardulans who threatened our world. I protected you, and I always will.
Ardulum is more than a religion or a bedtime story. Ardulum is your genetic future, and it is a future shared with dozens of other worlds. Not gods, any of us, but beings bound together by our connection to a tree that defines our shared civilizations.
Grow. Evolve. Cherish and learn. We hope one day to meet you in the stars as equals.
—Eld Atalant’s final message to the Neek people, transcribed 0 AAA
Glossary of Ardulan Talents
SCIENCE: Skills of creation, including biology, chemistry, agriculture, design, art, healing, and telepathy.
Markings: Three linked, black circles on the inside of each wrist.
AGGRESSION: Skills of assertion, including innate knowledge of weapons, warfare, trade, land development, leadership, and exploration.
Markings: A variable number (usually seven to ten) of hexagons linked across the right side of the torso. Can span from armpit to hip.
HEARTH: Skills of domesticity, including the arts of protection, shielding, child rearing, teaching, spiritual guidance, animal husbandry, public relations, and construction.
Markings: Exactly four hexagons aligned side by s
ide on the left shoulder.
MIND: Skills of critical thinking, including piloting, problem assessment, mathematics, music, and physics.
Markings: A set of three equilateral triangles, intersecting at one point on the back of the left calf.
Noteworthy Members of the Charted Systems
BALTEC - Minoran System
Minorans are the only known quadrupeds in the Charted Systems. There are seven species that all share the Minoran designation, and while genetically distinct, all can interbreed and produce viable offspring. Minorans have melanin-based skin tones, as well as hair in several shades of brown. Hock spurs are present in two of the seven species; members of these species are seldom seen outside the Minoran System. The number of genders varies across species; however, due to how closely related the species are, this is thought to be due to cultural mores rather than biology. Only one individual is required for reproduction, although the fitness of the offspring increases with each genetically contributing parent.
EARTH - Terran System
Terrans are bipedal, with melanin-based skin. Hair color varies wildly across the species, as does the amount of body hair. Terrans have an unknown number of genders, as this statistic is consistently updated. Reproduction involves one parent from each of the dominant two genders (female and male), although trinary and even quaternary reproduction has been reported.
MISSOTONA - Alusian System
The Alusians are one species comprised of eleven subspecies, which are differentiated by the shape of the scales sporadically interspersed across their carotenoid-based skin. Most are bipedal, and some of the subspecies are known to have fur. Alusians have two distinct genders (female and gatoi), and variants thereof are so uncommon as to be statistically insignificant. Reproduction requires a parent from each gender.