Letters to an Android

by Wendy Rathbone

  Cobalt, I am writing to you from foldspace – a wave I will send later.

  There is a wind in the stars tonight. I can smell the forever fires of space. A flame-tinted breeze. Everything is burning. The void is singed by invisible ash.

  Life is the beautiful obsession of this dark nature we find ourselves inhabiting.

  This raven void.

  It is mysticism itself, blue-edged on the very cusp of sleep or waking, always one or the other. I am either waking to my other self or sleeping to find it.

  It is a muse and eludes. Beckons. Teases with the frustrating feeling of loving something more than being loved in return.

  I am sitting in the common room writing this to you, Cobalt, wiping at my eyes again and again.

  Lark comes in. He looks big. He crosses his arms, shakes his head. His gaze is drugged, the pupils huge making his eyes black.

  I think he will make fun of me. Joke. But his voice is soft. He says, “Your heart is leaking gold stuff.”

  Then he tells me he was looking for me to invite me to a game of poker where the stakes are unusual verbs.

  I tell him my verbs are tentative tonight and I can’t retain enough of them.

  He says, “Come play anyway.”

  So I end this now.

  Your friend,

  Liyan

  *

  Cobalt had read this wave many times. An attachment had been added later, after Liyan came out of foldspace. It contained a group of haiku poems, all numbered and placed under a single title: “Spacesick.”

  The title always made him smile.

  Cobalt longed to experience foldspace for himself but knew he never would. He internalized Liyan’s experiences with thoughtful introspection until it felt as if they were his own.

  *

  17. Sea of Broken Moons

  Lark smelled of the nav labs, crisp, sharp but warm. He stood at the viewport, white uniform bright against all the black of space. The barest pinprick of stars sizzled over his head and by his left hand a butterfly-shaped constellation pulsed. His hair fringed his collar, coppery on top but a much finer blond at the tips.

  He said, “Liyan. You keep running away from us.”

  Liyan leaned against the bench staring past him, watching the black. A longing uncurled in his sternum, a hollow ache. He could not deny Lark’s statement.

  He closed his eyes. Saw lavender eyes. Hair like a sea shining at dawn.

  He opened them. Saw blond features, perfect posture. A strong silhouette. A best friend.

  Tremors of fear crested his skin. He held himself back because of love. He stepped forward because of love.

  Lark moved toward him. The heat of arms went around him, a whisper of breath against the hair at his temple. “Just come be with us. Okay?” Soft lips at the outer corner of his eye. The pulse in his chest increasing.

  Liyan turned his face. Their lips met for the first time. When he pressed into Lark’s strength, the pain in his stomach turned to pleasure.

  He wanted him so much.

  How had it come to this?

  Lark’s hand moved down his arm, the hotness of the touch seeping through his uniform shirt. Their fingers twined; they clasped palm to palm. He drew back and led Liyan by the wrist to the observation deck’s exit.

  Liyan moved slowly at first, drawing Lark’s arm taut but not letting go of his grip. His chest expanded with deep breaths.

  Lark’s fingers tightened. He slowed his pace and turned his head to look at him with shimmering eyes.

  Suddenly, Liyan remembered Davenda, lying in the black down on the back of a giant swan, gliding over a vast blue lake. He remembered the scent of sun-warmed, fresh water, the tickle of fine and delicate feathers, the taste of tears in his mouth. Lark had been watching him with such a serene smile. Everything was so graceful and smooth that day, the sky beaming and depthless in clear noonlight, and all the soft lapping of intricate breezes as the swan paddled effortlessly on its fairytale journey taking them with it. Lark had shaken his head at Liyan’s too vulnerable expression of awe and said something about Liyan needing to get laid. He now realized that had been the first come on of many over the years.

  He stopped in the middle of the corridor and all around them were gray walls, gray ceiling and floor, and the sterility of the moment couldn’t have been further from that beauty of Davanda. But Liyan whispered through the flames of his throat, stunned at the utter heat of his skin, “Okay…okay.”

  “Okay, then,” Lark said, tugging him onward.

  They ended up in Lark and Tiri’s double stateroom.

  The sheet was cool against Liyan’s burning skin, white and soft.

  Trembles. Tumbles. Undulations. Bodies sliding. Lips to flesh. He didn’t know where to hold on or what to think. He didn’t really care. Tiri’s affections were enthusiastic and understanding when it became obvious it was Lark who really quenched his thirst. She merely smiled in delight, nothing of her temper showing, no prelude to jealousy. It had been his fear that the “third wheel” syndrome would plague him. But for this moment he left his worries behind. He lost himself.

  Now Tiri lay to his left, smiling in her sleep.

  Lark, to his right, cupped his hand against Liyan’s naked chest. The bigger man was still awake, his pale gold eyes sleepily watching him.

  Liyan’s breath caught. Blinking hard, he reached out and touched Lark’s golden head. The intensity of what they’d just shared blurred his vision.

  Again at the most inopportune times, he teared up. It was a goddamn hazard! He ducked his head.

  Lark gave him a half-smile. He leaned forward, brushing his lips against Liyan’s eyelashes, spreading the moisture. He pulled up and, still smiling, rolled his eyes as he murmured, “You sweet guy.”

  Unspoken between them: I love you.

  The fluttering in his chest and stomach demanded he pull the man to him, wrap him close as Tiri’s heat pressed his back. Lark let him.

  But when he slept he dreamed of Cobalt.

  *

  The square bed stretched under a wide, curtain-less window. The view dumped straight down to Drebnot, the silver-stormed planet the station orbited. It was dizzying at first because you believed you were constantly looking down a huge drop-off to the world below.

  Liyan got used to it.

  The three of them, Lark, Tiri and Liyan, had bought the room for four days.

  He wanted to write to Cobalt.

  He wanted to describe the view.

  But he wasn’t sure what to say. He kept procrastinating, thinking too much, avoiding getting his waves.

  What words would he use? He couldn’t tell Cobalt about Lark and Tiri. It just didn’t seem right to say out loud (or in a wave) what he was doing with them, how he was feeling. And what was he feeling? A longing that just would not abate? Cobalt would understand, of course.

  Still, he was all tangled up inside and wasn’t sure about anything. In the moment all he felt was ecstasy and warmth. But the loneliness inside him remained.

  Lark could see it, could always read him. Now they were off-duty with a few vacation days to enjoy. The stars were behind them both at the moment. They had time to gaze into each other’s eyes, feel what the other was thinking. Tiri had gone off for a swim. With her permission, they’d stayed behind to make love in the radiant light.

  They lay in the aftermath of affection in a pool of red silk sheets, arms and legs tangled, facing the huge window, the black and silver view like a stark winter dream. Lark’s chin pressed Liyan’s shoulder, breath hot on his neck. His eyelashes swept down Liyan’s cheek.

  Lark put a gentle hand on his hip, warm and solid. He said, “Go on. Just write to him.”

  “What?”

  “You want to write to him. You need to write to him. It’s part of who you are.”

  Liyan stayed quiet.

  “Cobalt is special. I accept that he’s in your heart.”

 
; “We’ve met only three times.” His voice came rough, small.

  “Doesn’t matter. You’ve known each other for years. You knew him before you met me.”

  “Only days before.”

  “It’s everything. You may not have known it at the time, but he swept you off your feet and sent you into the stars where he couldn’t follow. He’s still doing it, sweeping you up with intelligence. With kindness. And all his words since. And he’s an underdog. Trapped. Someone who needs a hero. Ah, how enticing.”

  Liyan rolled over and faced him. “But I’m not…a hero.” He nuzzled Lark’s neck, kissed him there on the heated skin. He smelled of salt, adventure, love. The muscles of Lark’s upper arms pressed his own as they embraced, pale amber to tawny gold, and Liyan kissed him.

  The stirrings in his body filled him up until he was overflowing with need. He pressed himself tight against Lark as Lark said, “You are a hero to me. You are to him.”

  Something twisted in his heart. He shut his eyes hard. “I’ve never been so happy, but I don’t know how to say that to him when he’s so alone, and so imprisoned in his status. It wouldn’t be fair to him.”

  Lark’s hand cupped the back of his neck. “You’re a smart guy. You’ll know.”

  “It hurts me to think it might hurt him to know…about us.”

  “You think his unhappiness means you have to be unhappy, too? That if you aren’t alike in your oppression you’re somehow less compatible, less friends?”

  He opened his eyes and stared into Lark’s swimming gaze. So soft. Passion-filled. Reverent. It was like he had just fallen through that big window and into the glittering, precious view.

  Lark moved slowly, sliding against him, silky, sweet, and his arms curved under his back. “Tell him,” he whispered, “that you finally got yourself well and truly laid. Man to man, how could he not understand that?”

  He blinked up into his face. “He would understand. But this is more than…than getting laid.” He pressed his lips tight together as he felt his eyes warm.

  “Yeah?”

  Liyan sighed.

  Lark dug a knee between Liyan’s legs, pulled him up until their lips brushed. “You. Hell. Just…come here.”

  Liyan clutched his back as their kisses melted deeper. The light and the sheets encased them in silver and red.

  *

  Dear Cobalt:

  We took a glass shuttle through the Sea of Broken Moons. Me and Tiri and Lark…we’re orbiting Drebnot, a roiling, boiling, storm-plagued planet. Yes, people live there but it’s dangerous to visit, so we dump supplies via drone ships. A high percentage of those rusted old vessels burn up in the sky but at least you don’t have to bury any bodies.

  Liyan read the first paragraph out loud. “That’s the beginning. Does it sound too cold? Too wordy? Lark?”

  Lark was fresh from the shower, still drying off, shaking his wet hair all over everything. “It’s fine. Just fine.” He sounded bored.

  Liyan went back to writing.

  We’re vacationing on a space station that orbits that massive planetary mess. Once, thousands of years ago, it had five moons. An asteroid storm took them out, breaking them up into a thousand moon-chunks. They litter the space around the planet. Orbiting forever. A million lunar pieces of junk. The Sea of Broken Moons. They glow ominously, giant crumbles of chalk and dust. Some are veined with ore deposits pulsing copper, carnelian and phosphor in the solar light.

  “So I’m telling him about the moons, right? He always wants to hear about all the places I go.”

  “Yeah, it’s good. All good.” Lark patted him on the head as he moved beyond the bed to the bureau to find a shirt.

  “But it’s not about us.”

  “Yeah,” Lark muttered. “There’s nothing in there yet about you getting laid.”

  Liyan frowned, leaned against the pillows and turned back to his wave screen.

  Did I say the shuttle was entirely transparent? It was amazing, like floating in space without a suit. It was actually terrifying at first. I’m used to the big ships, or enclosed shuttles. I worked on shuttles for years, too, but never saw a transparent one until today.

  “Hey, Lark, were you kinda freaked by the glass shuttle? Did you feel sorta tipsy?”

  “What, like throwing up? Hell, yeah. I hated it.”

  “It wasn’t just me then.” Liyan threw him a smile.

  “What are you writing, that you wanted to puke? I thought you guys wrote poetry and shit to each other. Stomachs were rolling as we careened through the Sea of Broken Moons. Is that what you’re telling him? Sweetheart, that is pure lyricism.”

  “Are you making fun of me?”

  “Never. I’ll leave that honor to Tiri.”

  “Sarcastic ass,” Liyan murmured under his breath.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Well, when you get to the good parts, read me those.” He tugged on a pair of tight jeans.

  Our room looks down on the storm-ridden planet; the bed is by the window. To sleep there brings dreams of falling. It’s dizzying but lovely all at once. There is a device to darken the window but we don’t use it. We all like the eerie, alien light. It’s different from diffused bulkhead light, the constant living glow of the starliner’s halls.

  “Hmm, that’s not good,” Liyan said, reading over his words. “If I just say ‘our bed’ it’s like springing information on him without warning, or as if I’m hiding something.”

  Lark said, “Tiri just messaged she wants pizza. Are you gonna take a shower?”

  Liyan put his screen down. “Okay. I’m going.” He got up from the bed.

  Lark was fiddling with his own screen at a chrome desk by the door, but looked up as Liyan walked across the room. “And yes, you are hiding something,” he finally answered.

  Liyan said, “I don’t want to hurt him…”

  “I know that.” Lark got up and came to him, putting his arms around him with a strange sigh.

  Liyan leaned into his warmth. “But what do you think?”

  Lark leaned back with a pained smile and shook his head. “My dearest friend, you don’t want to ask me that.”

  *

  Dear Cobalt:

  This is my second attempt at this wave.

  Why do I find this so difficult?

  Here is my answer. It is because I love you.

  There. Just like that. I’ve said it.

  Now the equally hard part…I love others, too. Lark, Tiri, Sekina. But it is Lark and Tiri I have been spending all my off-hours with. I also sleep with them most nights but not all. It was a long time in coming.

  You had asked me of this when we last met. My answer had been honest. I’d never accepted any of their offers to…share our nights. Not then. But now…

  I find this difficult to speak of because I still think of you all the time, how we met, how you looked that last time I left you standing in the shuttle lobby in your beautiful long, blue coat with the tails and your eyes so full of my leaving, sparkling with my adventure that you cannot join.

  I was so desperately lonely! And Lark…he’s so good to me. Good for me. And Tiri and I get along so easily.

  I long to see you and talk face to face again. I long for so much that we don’t have.

  I know you will write me back and say you understand. But my heart hurts still.

  One day I will get my own ship. I will find excuses for detours to your out of the way sector, to the poison-sky asteroid of our beginnings. I will see you more often. I promise!

  Believe me when I say it. I will have my own ship. Sekina is getting hers within weeks, maybe sooner. We all hate to see her go, but it’s such a dream come true. And I will have mine!

  And now, about Drebnot and the Sea of Broken Moons from the first letter which I started and aborted.

  We rented a room with a vast window overlooking the storm-tossed planet from close orbit…


  Liyan pasted parts of the first letter to the second. He did not read it to Lark. In fact, after returning from the space station vacation, he had gone to his own room to compose it in privacy and silence. He had seen a sudden pain in Lark’s gaze that first day of their time off, after they’d made love, when he’d asked him his thoughts about keeping their love secret. It was then he knew he was being all-too selfish. Of course Lark would think dark thoughts he did not wish to speak. He might wonder if Liyan really loved him. Or if Liyan thought their relationship would never last.

  Liyan’s misgivings had always been there from the start. He’d spent years dodging the subtle and sweet seductions of Lark and Tiri. They were all aware of that fact.

  Now, he didn’t want complications. He simply wanted to ride the wave of bliss for awhile without over-thinking everything.

  But of course it was not that easy. Life always came in tangles and knots and puzzles. Griefs and pleasures. Risks and frustrations.

  He finished the letter. This time he signed it in a different way from his usual tried and true, six-year-old formula.

  I think of you all the time, as if you are here with me, at my side.

  Love,

  Liyan

  *

  Dear Liyan:

  I can’t tell you what it means to me that you are so sensitive to my feelings.

  But please relax. Please enjoy your life. You are years away from me, not to mention the obvious hundreds or thousands of light-years between us at all times.

  Your waves mean much to me. All your waves. What would hurt me? If you could not speak freely to me, if you didn’t write because you felt uncomfortable concerning my response, that would hurt me.