by C. Gockel
Volka looked around. “Sundancer’s trying to tell us something important—maybe it’s a clue how to defeat the Dark.” She huffed. “The Luddecceans should know about it.” Just as the Luddecceans should have known that they were sending a research team to the World Sphere. They had to defeat the Dark together; this secrecy was not how to do that.
Standing on his hind paws, Carl hissed. “Tell me about it. The Galactic Republic likes to think they’re smarter than the Luddecceans, but sometimes I think they’re just another sort of stupid. We’re supposed to be cooperating!”
Volka’s fingers bit into her palms. The stakes were too high to hold back. Right now, aside from Sundancer, the Galactic Republic had no faster-than-light ships. The Luddecceans did. Or had, until the Merkabah had its “accident.” She closed her eyes. Was Alaric all right? The last time she’d seen him had been aboard the Merkabah. She’d asked if he could push Sundancer into System 33’s sun so the ship could have a proper burial, and he’d figured out a way to do it...if it weren’t for him, Sundancer might still be infected, alone, and near death. Volka wished desperately he could be here so he could tell the Luddecceans about this place, so no intelligence could be hidden between the allies. And he was so smart…maybe he could figure out what was so important in this memory? She wavered on her feet, the wish overwhelming her.
“Volka?” Alaric’s voice came from behind her, so real-sounding Volka spun around.
And there he was, sitting in a high-backed leather chair from her former employer’s den. Now it was on an alien lawn of short succulents. In one hand, Alaric held a book. The other rested on a gray werfle that was sitting on his knee. Alaric’s hair was grayer than when they’d first met and he was gaunter too, but still handsome. Carl had said Alaric had spent some time in prison for trumped up charges relating to her. Had they found out that Alaric had defied orders and not turned her in when he had the chance? It made her heart clench to think of him suffering because of her.
The werfle on Alaric’s lap gave a frightened squeak.
“Once-mom!” exclaimed Carl, hopping over to Alaric and the gray werfle.
“Is that really you?” Volka whispered to Alaric. Or was he just a dream, a part of her hoping that he was well?
His pale blue eyes shot side to side, though he looked curious rather than panicked. “I have a feeling that depends on your definition of ‘really.’”
It was exactly the sort of thing he would say, and it would be like him to keep calm.
Hopping up and down, Carl squeaked excitedly, “Yes, Volka, it’s Alaric. Sundancer has brought his consciousness here because of your wish. And this is Solomon! He was once a she, and once a mother of one of my former werfle bodies! Once-mom, this is Sundancer’s daydream or maybe a memory, we don’t know. We only know it’s vital to understand what happened here.” He paused and waved at Alaric. “Hi, Alaric. It’s an alien spaceship. Outside of the ship there is an inside-out-world that’s filled with alien corpses. Very depressing. We were just feeling very frustrated about the fact that the Republic hasn’t told you about the aliens or this place, and Sundancer brought you here. Do you see the ghostly forms of James and 6T9?” He waved a paw in the direction of the two androids. Alaric followed the motion and his eyes widened in surprise. “They’re not here,” Carl continued. “Sundancer can’t speak to them. But we’re here. Mentally, at least. Very convenient. Now there won’t have to be long meetings between members of my kind, and admirals and counselors of the Galactic Republic deciding what information should be shared between your two human factions. You’re here. Volka’s here. We’ll all share what we saw with our respective people and there won’t be secrets.”
Shutting the book, Alaric rubbed his eyes. “Just so I’m clear. This is some sort of telepathic projection. Something you think your spaceship…” He dropped his hand and his eyes narrowed at Volka. “… that you told me was dead wants us to see?”
“We thought she was dead,” said Carl, nodding earnestly. “Because she very nearly was.”
Volka put her hands behind her back because she suddenly wanted to try and touch him to see how real the dream felt. “We think the heat of System 33’s sun destroyed the infection that was killing her.”
“They’re not lying,” Solomon said.
Starting, Alaric looked down at the werfle on his knee. “You can speak to me telepathically?” He looked down at the book, and Volka glanced its title, A Guide to Luddeccean Sign Language. “Is this even necessary?” Alaric asked.
“It is necessary,” Solomon said. “It is the ship’s power allowing Volka, Carl, and me to talk telepathically to you. We’re only piggybacking. The only time the three of us can communicate with you without the ship’s amplification is when you are dreaming.”
Alaric’s eyes returned to Volka’s and his cheeks flushed. When she’d been aboard the Merkabah, she’d had a dream of Alaric that had been very…vivid. Carl had never confirmed whether it had been just a dream or a shared dream. At his flush, she knew it had been shared. She looked down. Many things had been said in that dream…She’d thought that the chapter of her life with Alaric had closed when the dream had ended, but now he was here, and she felt like the book was opening again. Or more accurately, that her ribs were being split, and her heart was being ripped from her chest.
“But you seldom remember your dreams, Alaric,” Solomon finished. To Volka and Carl, Solomon said, “Alaric is teaching me sign language so that we may communicate without ethernet or telepathy.” He waved his paws. “We’re modifying it for my lack of opposable thumbs, but it’s a brilliant idea. Alaric’s brilliant idea.”
Carl had complained aboard the Merkabah that Alaric was Solomon’s favorite “hatchling.” Now Carl’s ears went back, and his eyes narrowed at the other werfle’s words. For his part, Alaric flushed scarlet. It wasn’t Luddeccean to be comfortable with such profuse praise.
Gently depositing Solomon on the ground, he stood and put his book on the chair. Chair and book immediately disappeared. Clearing his throat, Alaric said, “We should see what it is the ship wants us to see.”
Another small blue alien with feathery black “hair” ran from one of the nearby homes and disappeared into the vines.
“That’s exactly where the other one went before,” Volka murmured.
“Maybe that is where we need to go,” Alaric said, and set off at once.
Volka skipped a few steps to catch up with him, and Carl and Solomon hopped after them both.
“You’re well,” Volka said. “I heard there was an accident aboard your ship.”
Smiling wryly, Alaric answered. “There was, but it was the best kind. No one was seriously hurt, and it wasn’t the result of any negligence on my crew’s or my part. My crew and I are stationed in New Prime, training other crews for faster-than-light ships while the Merkabah is repaired.”
Other crews…the Luddecceans had more faster-than-light ships in the works. Her brow furrowed. Of course they would.
Another diminutive blue alien bolted past them, stopped at the same spot in the wall of vines, and looked back at them. Feathery hair, this time a rich brown, framed the alien’s face. The eyes were enormous and nearly black, the nose nearly flat, the lips delicate. The alien wore black sandals and a loose garment the same color as the orange fruit, and was pretty.
“Not the monsters we were taught to believe in, are they?” Alaric mused. Luddecceans were taught that aliens, if they existed, would be demonic, soul-stealing creatures. Volka swallowed. The Dark was exactly that, though, and this alien they saw was just a memory. The Dark had crushed these people. They had to learn how.
“No,” Volka said, and smiled sadly. So much Luddeccean energy had been wasted on creating fear of aliens. She blinked. But then, the Dark was an alien and worthy of terror.
The alien vanished into the vines. They reached the spot and discovered a metal trellis holding the vine-plants at bay and forming a narrow, darkened tunnel.
“
Since I don’t think we can be hurt in a dream—ladies first,” Alaric said, holding out an arm. Volka flushed and passed under the trellis, very conscious of Alaric behind her. The silence of the dream felt like seclusion although she knew Carl and Solomon weren’t far off.
“Volka,” he said.
She stopped, turned, and found him very close. She kept her hands behind her back. His face flushed again slightly. “The Republic Marine that was infected…was he cured?”
Volka’s shoulders fell, thinking of Ben, the part-weere, Galactic Republic Marine who’d been infected by the Dark in System 33. He’d liked her, and she’d liked him and wanted very much to love him, to really close the book on her life on Luddeccea and the man standing in front of her. “Ben wasn’t cured. He…he said the Dark was getting inside his mind, learning all that he knew, and that he was Special Forces and he knew too much. To stop it, Ben thought he had to die.” Her ears curled sadly.
“I am sorry,” Alaric said after a long beat. He closed his eyes. “That is what intelligence told me. I didn’t want to believe them.”
“Silva and Russo?” she asked, referring to the two Luddeccean Guardsmen who’d been infected.
Staring at the ground, Alaric said, “Russo was shot trying to escape. Silva committed suicide, citing the same reasons Corporal Moulton…Ben…did. Listening to Silva talk toward the end…I think he might have been correct. I made sure both their records had them listed as dying in the line of duty.” He took a breath. “I had hoped that the Republic, with its superior technology, would have a cure.”
“They might now,” said Volka, ears perking.
Alaric’s gaze lifted and his lips parted.
At the hopefulness in his expression, Volka did her best to recite exactly what she knew, even though she didn’t understand it all herself. “Sixty has told me about the research. They can’t conduct tests on the actual bacterium because, as soon as they find something that works, it mutates. It doesn’t work like normal bacteria that have to be in contact with each other to swap the DNA that makes it immune. It is telepathic with itself and capable of changing its cell walls or membranes—depending on its state, it sheds its cell walls and becomes amoeba-like when entering a host, and then regrows them—to counteract any treatment. To get around that, they created computer models. They have a few options now, but they are untested…They’d also only work when the infection is new.”
A crease appeared in Alaric’s brow. “And they’ll only work once, because it will learn and mutate again.”
He was too clever. “That is what Sixty said, yes. But it could work once on many people if it was administered at the same time.”
“Theoretically.”
Volka’s head bowed. “Theoretically.” That had been Sixty’s exact word, too.
Her ears flicked, searching for sound. There were strangely no insect noises.
Alaric’s fingers twitched at his side. “Volka…”
He was too close, and they were alone. She didn’t dare look up.
He put his hands behind his back. “I’m learning sign language because Markus…my newest, youngest son…was born deaf.”
His child by that other woman. He’d once used Volka’s inability to have his children as justification for why he should marry a human. It was cruel to bring it up and it was also code. I belong to someone else. Last time, we thought we were only in a dream, but we can’t pretend this time. She found herself annoyed. In that dream, he’d told her he loved her, but that they would never be together. His relationship with his wife was strained, but he would never leave his sons. Volka had told him truthfully if he’d abandoned his children, she’d never forgive him. After those words, did he think she would have given in? Especially since they weren’t really alone here; Carl and Solomon were here. Somewhere. Her nostrils flared at their poor performance as chaperones.
When you don’t know what to say, be polite, her mother had told her.
“Congratulations on the birth of your son,” Volka said.
She glanced up, found his eyes surprised and soft, and then she turned away and resumed walking again. Where were Carl and Solomon? At her thought, she heard them hop from the path to the shadowy trellis tunnel. Her feet found stone again, and she emerged a moment later on a path that ran perpendicular to the line of vines, between flowers higher than their heads.
“They look like sunflowers,” Alaric said.
“Those horrible seeds come from plants like these?” Volka said. She’d eaten them once and only once. They did not suit her carnivorous digestive system.
Walking over to one of them, Alaric’s shoulders loosened. She could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “City girl. And yes, they do.”
Pulling down a flower, he inspected the bloom. “But the seeds are as large as my thumb.” Lips turning up in a crooked smile, he tapped one, and his eyebrows rose. “And they don’t seem to have shells. I wonder if humans could eat them.” His voice was excited and curious. It reminded her of waking up in the middle of the night and finding him with a book open on his lap. “I can’t sleep, Volka,” he’d say. “It’s so interesting.” Her annoyance vanished. Despite his gaunter frame and gray hair, that younger, idealistic man was still inside him.
Carl sniffed disdainfully. “Omnivores.”
Volka remembered Sixty on Libertas wondering how the toxins in the planet’s soil affected the taste of the food. “I wish Sixty could be here,” she said, suddenly very sorry her friend wasn’t around. “He’d wonder if humans could eat these things too, and if he could make them digestible to carnivores.”
Alaric’s jaw hardened, but then another child-like alien dashed past them.
Without a word, he turned around and followed. The sunflowers on either side of them turned to plants that were only hip high, and then those plants were replaced by crops just slightly higher than their knees, but beyond these, the crops were taller again, and Volka saw another green wall in the distance. Alaric looked up. “The light is right above us. They’ve planted the crops by height with the smallest directly beneath and the larger ones farther back. The buildings in the shade where we entered were in places with the poorest light.” Looking right and left, he said, “We’re not in a valley; they’re using centrifugal force for gravity.”
To Carl, he said, “You said there is a world outside this ship—but this ship is a world. Well-planned two acres can feed a family of four.” He smiled grimly. “If there isn’t a mortgage to pay, drought, frost, or hail, the soil possesses the proper nutrients, and no babies get sick and there are no unexpected doctors’ bills.”
Volka swallowed. He was talking about his experience growing up. She’d known when they’d met that his father was ostracized for being the black sheep of his family, and he’d grown up considerably poorer than his relatives. But recently, Carl had revealed just how poor Alaric’s upbringing had been—he’d been poorer than her family. She glanced down at Carl. She’d thought when he’d gone on about Alaric’s upbringing that it had just accidentally slipped into Carl’s rants. But had it been accidental? If not, why would he want her to know?
“Here some of their acreage is vertical.” Alaric looked up at the crawling vine plants with the orange fruit.
Another child ran down the path and through a trellis that passed through the next row of vines. Alaric took off after it on long legs, and Volka had to jog to catch up to him. “This is a dream, right?” Alaric said, not panting.
“Dream-like,” Volka responded, and realized she wasn’t out of breath, either.
Alaric ran faster, and to her surprise, Volka could keep up. She looked over her shoulder and saw Carl and Solomon streaking after them, their tiny legs barely touching the ground. They passed beneath the next trellis, ran between buildings, and then under another trellis to another crop land. And they did it again. And again. Until Volka lost count, the ground began to slope up, and they passed under a final trellis. On the other side, instead of buildings there was a hu
ge wall made of a whitish plastic-like material. Volka slowed, but Alaric said, “The path doesn’t end,” and kept running. He passed through the wall, and the whitish material closed around him. Volka leaped through after him…and found herself in a place that was very different. It was industrial, with a huge shining, gleaming singular machine that seemed to take up the whole space about twenty meters in front of her, spinning slowly. Alaric was to her left. He called to her. “The ground is rotating faster here to make up for the narrower diameter of the ship.” Inclining his head at the machine, he said, “It’s not rotating—we are—there’s gravity here, but none there. Watch.” And with that, he ran over to the machine, leaped up, and caught a rung that Volka hadn’t even noticed. She followed him and for once didn’t lose her stomach in the switch to zero G, but he moved much more skillfully on the rungs.
Carl and Solomon emerged beside her, and Carl said, “You know, if you let go of the rungs, you can actually fly. Dream logic, I think.”
Above her, Alaric looked down, let go, and chuckled. Spreading his arms, he said, “So we can.”
Volka copied his movements and focused on the spot where she wished to be.
They flew up to the very center of the chamber. The “machine” glowed blue there, behind a great glass wall. Beyond the wall was what looked like a giant turbine to Volka: circular, with dark circular bundles at the bottom—and was that water swirling through it?
“It’s a fission reactor,” said Alaric. “Not a configuration we’d use, but I’m almost sure of it.”
He floated up to the wall of the ship. Looking back at her, he said, “There’s a tunnel here.” With that, he disappeared past the reactor.
“Useful thought to have him here,” Carl said to Volka.
It was useful; he knew so much…
Solomon, floating beside her, said, “His crew sometimes say he is a robot.”