Bright Shards

by Meg Pechenick

  * * *

  The days separating us from Elteni Starhaven passed swiftly by. On the last night there was an unofficial crew party in the lounge. I slipped on Kylie’s dress and assessed my reflection in the mirror. I looked almost exactly as I had on my last night on Arkhati. The only missing touch was the eye makeup, which, lacking Kylie’s sure hand with cosmetics, I had decided to forgo. The bruising around my eye had completely healed. Daskar had removed the wrist brace a week ago. I no longer carried any outward signs of the Flare. It had marked me, though, as surely as Vekesh’s bullet had done. With one finger I traced the dark line across my right arm, thinking about the invisible tether that bound me to Saresh with its twin strands of terrible violence and the extraordinary intimacy of the Listening. Now I was bound to Hathan in the same way. Oddly reassured by the thought, I swiped on some lip gloss and went to the party.

  As I stepped into the lounge, I was startled to hear familiar music playing. I spotted Saresh leaning against the bar, the device in his hand emitting an unmistakable blue glow. That wasn’t his flexscreen. It was my phone. He’d asked to borrow it along with my speaker earlier that day. “Earth Night all over again, huh?” I said as I joined him.

  He glanced up and flashed me a smile. “Hopefully without the elixirs. I’ve never had a worse hangover. I’ve been making a playlist. Care to put the final touches on it?”

  “Let’s see.” I scrolled through the list and was touched to see that it was evenly divided between songs about homecoming and songs about the lure of the unknown.

  “I tried to balance ivri avanshekh and ivri khedai,” Saresh said. “I wasn’t sure what you were feeling.”

  “I’m not sure what I’m feeling either. I think it’s perfect the way it is.” I passed the phone back to him and went to get a drink.

  The evening passed swiftly and pleasantly. As I looked around the lounge, I had the sense that everyone was trying to keep things light without being obvious about it. I wondered who, if anyone, had requested new assignments. I knew, because Reyna had explained it to me, that there were two schools of thought on crew dispersal after relatively mild outbreaks of the Flare. Fleet policy was to keep the crew together, the theory being that the best way to prevent both victims and attackers from dwelling excessively on the trauma was to force them to interact. Echelon policy mandated reassignment of those who had become violent in order to take the decision out of the hands of the victims. In instances of the Flare involving fatalities, both institutions agreed, immediate dispersal was the only viable option. We were a mixed Fleet and Echelon crew with the additional confounding factor of my human presence. No one had any idea what to expect. It was Arkhati all over again.

  Hathan and I had spoken a handful of times during the night, but never alone. I was trying to decide whether I wanted to approach him when he resolved my internal struggle by sitting down at my table just as Sohra was rising to get another drink. “Don’t worry,” he said immediately. “I’m not going to ask you to sing.”

  “Good, because it’s not happening.”

  He had a dice cup in one hand, which he rattled inquiringly. “Game?”

  “Khivrik sevens,” I said in as offhand a tone as I could manage, and was absurdly gratified to hear him laugh.

  We played—standard Institute rules—in silence for a few minutes. Then I said, “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything,” he said, so simply I was sure it was true.

  “Did you put in for reassignment?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I told you on Arkhati that my mission wouldn't be over until you were safely back on Earth. That’s still true.”

  I hazarded a joke. “Even after I threw up in your bathroom?”

  He didn’t smile, but his look was wry. “It’s going to take a little more than that to balance the scales between us.”

  “Okay, another question. If we were landing on Vardesh Prime tomorrow instead of Elteni, what’s the first thing you’d do?”

  His expression turned distant. “In Khezendri, near the Fleet Institute, there’s a street of food stalls, all selling—” He used a food term I’d never heard before. “It’s a meat stew simmered in a clay pot. It was the only thing that made the North Continent winters bearable. I’d go there first. Then I’d go home to see my father. We’d make senek, and I’d tell him about the mission. There’s something confessional about talking things through with him. He understands without judging.”

  “I wish I’d had the chance to meet him.”

  “Maybe on your next trip.” He said it lightly, but he must have seen the dismay in my face, because he changed the subject at once. “What about you? What’s the first thing you’ll do when you get back to Earth?”

  “Go for a swim,” I said instantly.

  Hathan shook his head. “That’s one Earth custom I’ll never understand.”

  “It’s so elemental. Like being part of the water and the sky at the same time. My philosophy all through college was ‘never pass up a chance to swim.’ I was all ready to go swimming on Vardesh Prime, if I could find somewhere safe to do it. I brought a swimsuit and everything. Too bad there’s not a pool on Elteni.”

  “No, but there may be another hydrotherapy tub.”

  Cheered by the thought, I reached for the dice.

  “Giving me a chance to redeem myself?” Hathan asked.

  “What?”

  “The game’s over. You won.”

  “Oh.” I laughed. “I’m not like you and Reyna. I can’t actually talk and play at the same time. I stopped keeping score a long time ago. I’ve just been throwing the dice.”

  He gave me an odd look, like I’d said more than I meant to, but all he said was, “In that case, maybe your run of bad luck is finally coming to an end.”

  Later, as I was walking back from the lounge to my quarters, someone called after me. I turned and was surprised to see Reyna. She caught up to me and we fell into step. She said, “Eyvri, I think it’s only fair to give you some idea of what to expect on the starhaven. This isn’t going to be like Arkhati. You’ve been exposed to a lethal pathogen. No one knows what that means, for your people or ours. The threat of contagion is real. Our scientists need to be sure you’re not going to step out of quarantine and infect the entire starhaven—or trigger an outbreak on Earth. The tests are likely to be . . . rigorous.”

  I made a face. “I’m not sure I want to find out what qualifies as rigorous in your book.”

  “I’m not sure you have any choice,” Reyna said soberly.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Elteni Starhaven had all the imposing darkness of Arkhati and none of its grandeur. It was the first large-scale starhaven the Vardeshi had built, and its architects had prioritized function at the expense of form. At my first glimpse of the narrow corridors with their murky green underlighting, I recoiled in visceral distaste. My impression of the place declined from there. I was separated from my crewmates almost instantly, ushered away with both minimal fuss and minimal explanation by anonymous figures in sinister black hazard suits that covered them from head to toe. Their features were obscured behind opaque face shields, which was unsettling enough on its own, yet somehow less troubling than their hands. I’d grown accustomed to the fact that Vardeshi fingers were longer than human, and it had never bothered me before. Now, though, I found myself staring at those slender black-gloved fingers, unpleasantly evocative of a score of low-budget horror movies. Well, shit, I thought, reaching for humor to fend off the fear. I think I’ve been abducted by aliens.

  By the end of that day, I had both a fairly clear idea of what Reyna had meant by “rigorous” and a newfound respect for her power of understatement. My duffel bag and flexscreen had been confiscated. I had been asked to strip off my uniform and undergarments, wash myself thoroughly with astringent-smelling blue soap in water that went beyond lukewarm into outright chilly, dry myself, wash a second time, and finally dress in a flimsy beige jumpsu
it. I had then sat, shivering slightly, in a small gray room for an hour before I was cleared to advance to the next stage of processing. I had done all this in apparent solitude, following the commands of a disembodied voice issuing from somewhere in the ceiling. The man giving the instructions spoke quickly and with a regional accent I didn’t recognize. The accent, added to my rising anxiety, had led repeatedly to confusion on my part, and I knew I must appear slow-witted to whoever was watching me. And there was no doubt in my mind that I was being watched.

  Now I found myself sitting opposite two figures wearing the black hazard suits I’d seen earlier. The man on the left had spoken for both of them, introducing himself as Specialist Irnik, Elteni’s resident expert on human anatomy, and the woman beside him as Specialist Anash, the starhaven’s supervising doctor. His had been the voice giving me instructions before. My skin crawled at the thought that he’d been watching while I stripped and showered.

  “You appear to be trembling,” he observed after the introductions had been made. “Are you ill?”

  “No, just cold. Could I possibly have my duffel bag back? I have warmer clothes in there.” Also underwear, but I saw no need to draw attention to that particular omission.

  “I’m afraid your belongings are still being processed.”

  I squinted at the opaque face shield. “Is there any way for me to see your faces? This feels a little impersonal.”

  “Of course,” said the woman, her tone as cool as her companion’s. Each of them touched a control on the forearm of their hazard suits, and the face shields became transparent. Being able to see them made me feel a little better, but not much. Both doctors had dark hair and distinctly unwelcoming expressions. The man reminded me of Vekesh. Not a pleasant association.

  “So what happens next?” I asked. “When do I get to move out of quarantine?”

  Specialist Irnik said, “Not for some time. First there are the physical examinations, then the interviews. It may be several days.”

  “But I’ll be able to see my crewmates, right?”

  “For security reasons, you’ll be kept in isolation until we’re sure you don’t pose a threat.”

  “Oh. Can I at least have my flexscreen back?”

  “You are uniquely qualified to know that a flexscreen in the hands of one infected with the Flare can be an extraordinarily dangerous weapon. Your access to technology will be restricted until—”

  “Right. I get it. Well,” I said with false cheer, “let’s get going on these tests then, shall we?”

  What followed was like a dark counterpart to the hours of stamina and cognition tests I had undergone on my arrival at the Villiger Center. The difference was that I had had at least a vague idea of what information that earlier battery of tests was designed to elicit. The Vardeshi ones were longer and more difficult, and I had not the faintest idea what skills, if any, were being assessed. Something that felt like a vision exam, where I was asked to track the movement of a tiny dot of colored light swirling among other dots of colored light projected onto a distant wall, was followed by a claustrophobia-inducing strength test in which I stood trapped between two door-sized metal plates, pushing feebly against them as they slid inexorably toward each other. For no reason I could determine, about half of the tests took place in complete darkness. I hated those. Every time the illumination clicked on again, I had to clench my fists and fight the memory of the conference room. What are they doing, I wondered irritably, trying to induce a flashback? Then I shuddered at the realization that that was exactly what they were doing. The epiphany didn’t incline me any more favorably toward Specialist Irnik.

  When the tests finally concluded, I was spent and shaking. I followed a pair of men in red and black starhaven security uniforms identical to Arkhati’s to my temporary quarters on the quarantine level. As the door slid open, I was dismayed to see that the chamber within was roughly the size of the one where I had waited after my decontamination shower, and nearly as featureless. There was a bunk, a small table, and a single stool. I had entertained a faint hope that I might find my duffel bag waiting for me, but the only evidence that any of my belongings still existed was one of my emergency medical kits sitting on the table.

  I stopped on the threshold and looked questioningly at my two escorts, one of whom explained that I was being housed in isolation for the obligatory three-day observation period, but that I was free to come and go as I pleased. In addition to my quarters, I had access to a shower room and a lounge area with one section partitioned off for a galley. The doors at either end of the corridor were sealed. An attendant would show me to my first debriefing session at eight o’clock the next morning. Was there anything else I required at the present time?

  “I could still use some warmer clothes,” I said. “And maybe something to read?”

  The guard who had spoken murmured something noncommittal, and both of them left.

  I pulled up a computer interface and checked the time. It was a little after four in the afternoon. I turned away from my makeshift cell and set out to explore the other rooms accessible to me. They were small and bare but functional. Most of the doors on the hallway were locked, and I wondered what they concealed. Empty sleeping quarters, presumably. I whiled away a little time investigating the food that had been provided—Ahnir must have helped with the selection, as there were ingredients for several full meals—and a little more organizing the containers and equipment to my satisfaction. I cooked a pot of red beans and rice and ate it as slowly as I could. I took a long, hot shower, wishing I’d been allowed to keep my own toiletries. I walked up and down the hallway for a while. Finally I gave in and checked the time again. It was just past seven. I went back to my quarters, lay down on the bunk, and tried to think rationally.

  Vekesh was gone. The Flare was over. My circumstances now might recall those earlier periods of imprisonment, but the likeness was superficial. The Vardeshi were a practical people who feared the Flare as humans had feared no disease since the bubonic plague. They were simply being careful. My treatment thus far on Elteni had been perhaps a little callous, but not inhumane. In two days, when it was clear that I was sane and well, I would be reunited with my friends. All I had to do was wait out the quarantine. So I told myself. All the same, it was a difficult night. My request for reading material had been either forgotten or ignored. I’d only been given the one beige jumpsuit, and I didn’t want to soil it by working out, not that the idea of bodyweight exercises sans underwear held much appeal. I had access to the ship’s computer, but I was no more eager than before to delve into the ever-deepening strata of unread messages in my inbox. I turned the lights off and eventually fell into a fitful, shallow sleep. When a young woman in an Echelon uniform arrived to collect me the following morning, I’d already been awake and pacing restlessly for hours.

  I soon regretted the profligate waste of energy. My second day of quarantine was entirely given over to debriefing sessions like the ones Hathan and the others had endured on Arkhati. I was seated in front of a panel of four interviewers, two each from the Fleet and the Echelon. They wore uniforms rather than hazard suits, an encouraging sign that my contagion risk had been downgraded. They asked me an endless series of questions about the events leading up to the Flare. When had I realized what was happening? What behaviors had I observed in my crewmates immediately before the outbreak? What precisely had Saresh said to Zey in the axis chamber? And so on and so on. My questioners seemed preoccupied with the fact that I’d ignored Reyna’s instructions. They asked me over and over again what her orders had been, whether I had understood them, whether I knew what an order was.

  “Look,” I said wearily after the fourth iteration. “I know I screwed up, okay? I was scared and lonely. And then I was worried about my friend. It’s really that simple.”

  When we broke for lunch, the younger of the two Fleet officers walked me back to my rooms. She’d been the only other woman in the room, and by far the friendliest of my interrogator
s. The good cop, I thought without acrimony.

  “I know the questions are repetitive,” she said. “We’re trying to ascertain whether your disobedience is a sign of disordered thinking. If the disease presents with milder symptoms in humans, it will be harder to identify.”

  “You mean . . . You think I was infected and didn’t know it?”

  “It’s a possibility.”

  I thought about it. “I guess. But for what it’s worth, I think I probably just panicked and made stupid mistakes. Humans do that sometimes. No explanation necessary.”

  She gave me a conspiratorial look. “I think you’ll find that, with the Vardeshi, explanations are always necessary.”

  The morning had been draining. The afternoon was much, much worse. The questions picked up again exactly where they’d left off: the moment that I’d received the first message from Zey’s flexscreen. Forced to confront in exacting detail the very thing I’d been more or less successfully ignoring for weeks now, I made a titanic effort to appear composed. I kept my sentences short and my tone neutral. Pretend you’re talking to Kylie, I told myself. You’re telling her about a movie you saw. A really terrible movie that you’re trying to talk her out of watching. Some poor stupid girl got herself locked in a room with a violent psychopath. It didn’t happen to you. It didn’t happen at all.

  The deception worked, for a while, but the barrage of questions was unrelenting. At some point I put my head in my hands.

  “Is something wrong?” the friendly Fleet officer asked.

  “I can’t . . . I don’t think I can keep doing this. Reliving a recent assault in this kind of detail is actually not the best thing for my people.”

  One of the Echelon officers said coldly, “Your compliance is appreciated. We’re nearly finished.”

  But it was another grinding hour before I was dismissed to the lonely silence of my rooms. I stripped down in the corridor, careless of who might be watching, and stood in the shower for a long time. Then I collapsed into bed. And that night, for the first time in days, I dreamed of the Flare.