Resilience

by Fletcher DeLancey

  Every other adult from both tanks rushed up. It was the first time Rahel had been in close proximity to all twelve of them, but they paid little attention to her. Their arms were sliding against each other, all vying for the opportunity to reach into the container and touch its contents—or perhaps smell or taste, as Jalta had suggested.

  Lhyn played the sound pattern for home, and Rahel envisioned herself on Dock One. She called up the memory of the ships tied at their docks, cables creaking as they pulled at them—and started when the bells of Whitesun Temple tolled directly behind her, so close and loud that her ears rang from the onslaught. She spun around, almost tripping over an uneven board on the dock. How could the temple be here on the bayfront when it was supposed to be in the center of the city? But there it was, looming before her, its stately dome brushing the sunrise-pink clouds.

  The roar of a cresting wave made her turn back in time to see foaming water pour over the boards. It lapped at her boots before draining away.

  A stranded fish flopped frantically, its body slapping against the wood and reflecting the early morning light in shades of green, blue, and red . . .

  “Whoa! What happened?”

  Rahel was off balance, her knees bent while Lhyn’s arms were wrapped around her chest, keeping her from falling. With a twist that wouldn’t have been possible two days ago, she regained her feet and stood upright, sucking in air. “Fahla, that was intense.”

  “It must have been. You jumped about a meter in the air and spun around like something bit you.” Lhyn stepped back, giving her room to recover.

  “No biting, but . . . I don’t know how to describe that. It wasn’t a memory.” The crisp sea air was still in her nostrils, and she was hit with a staggering wave of homesickness. She wasn’t sure how much was hers and how much came from the Resilere.

  “You mean Rez communicated directly?”

  After what she had just experienced, the excited anticipation coming from Lhyn was too strong. A headache stirred behind her eyes, sending out exploratory tendrils, and she willed it away. She could not raise her blocks right now.

  “I don’t think it was just Rez. I think it might have been all of them. It felt like they turned my memories into a dream.” She described it as best she could, but mere words were a poor substitute for the depth of that experience.

  “Fascinating,” Lhyn breathed. She turned to watch the Resilere still crowded around the container, her smooth forehead furrowed in thought. “It was home for you, but bigger and brighter.”

  “And louder.”

  “Right. And the fish’s skin was reflecting the sun in the same colors as their bioluminescence.”

  It clicked then. “They put themselves into the vision.”

  Lhyn nodded. “When they asked for help before, they used a memory. Or your brain interpreted it that way. This was much more direct.” She met Rahel’s eyes. “Maybe they’re not asking for help. Maybe they’re telling you they know you’re helping to get them home.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  The Resilere began to move away, each taking a rock or bit of seaweed with it. By the time the last one retreated, the container held nothing but water.

  “Are we ready?” Commander Zeppy asked from his position inside the closed lift.

  “It’s time,” Rahel said.

  In all the hours she had spent here, sitting with the Resilere as the ship hurtled toward Enkara, the sound of rain hitting water had been her constant companion. Now it stopped, abruptly and with no fanfare. It felt wrong.

  Working together, she and Lhyn upended the container, emptying the Enkara seawater into the tanks with a great splash and spilling some into the narrow space between them. The standpipes briefly gurgled, and then the system was silent.

  Hydroponics seemed larger and emptier already.

  Lhyn played the sound patterns for friend and home, the same words they had used before rolling the Resilere out of the brace shaft. Rahel projected safe with all her might, but she didn’t think it was necessary this time. The Resilere weren’t nervous. They were . . . expectant. Hopeful.

  “Preparing to seal the tanks,” Zeppy said. “Is it all right?”

  “I think they know,” Rahel answered. “They’re ready.”

  “No arms over the edges of the tanks?”

  “Everyone’s inside.”

  “Acknowledged. Sealing in three . . . two . . . one . . .”

  With a small popping sound, two bars hurtled toward them from the backs of the tanks and snapped in place over the front edges. They were the weighted leaders of thin, acid-proof screens that had unrolled from cylinders in the back and now covered each tank. Captain Serrado had insisted on the design before they brought in the eggs, a precaution against hatchlings or possibly adults deciding to go for a walk. Part of Rahel’s duties for the past two days had been to ensure that the Resilere stayed put, but when she wasn’t there, other crew members had kept watch via the cams.

  The lift doors opened, disgorging Zeppy and three of his staff. This was the moment Rahel was most worried about. She crouched in front of the tanks, watching and sensing for any disturbance as the four newcomers picked up the first of the lids stored against the nearest bulkhead. Each person held a corner of the unwieldy square and carefully walked it to the tank on Rahel’s right.

  “They’re all right,” Rahel said, her voice startlingly loud in the new silence of the bay. “No one is afraid of what we’re doing.”

  “Gently, then,” Zeppy told his staff. With a few grunts of effort and careful maneuvering, they slid the lid atop the tank and pressed it down. He stepped back, brushing his hands on his trousers. “Still good?”

  “Still good.”

  While the process was repeated on the other tank, a Resilere that she thought must be Rez swam up to the front and flattened an arm tip against the transparent material. Rahel pressed her hand against the same point and thought of lying on the couch with her head in Sharro’s lap.

  Safety and comfort. Home.

  With the second lid in place, Zeppy pressed a control to remotely seal the standpipes at both ends. Then he squatted beside her, watching as Rez peeled away and retreated into the interior. “You’re going to miss them, aren’t you?”

  She nodded, still holding her hand against the tank. “This might sound odd. But in some ways, they’re more familiar to me than you are. I mean, you Gaians.”

  His amusement tickled across her senses. “I figured you didn’t mean me personally.” He used her shoulder to help push himself upright before holding out a hand. “Time to let them go, First Guard.”

  She accepted the help, despite no longer needing it. “I know.”

  In another example of Zeppy’s forethought, the tanks had been set up on cargo movers. It was a mere press of a button to gently raise the platforms, lifting the tanks with them, and another button to start them moving toward the lift.

  Rahel walked beside them, projecting safe, while Lhyn repeated the sound patterns for friend and home. The Resilere were moving around with some agitation, but it was born of excitement.

  She stepped into the lift with Zeppy and the first tank. “Shuttle bay,” she said, and watched the doors close on hydroponics.

  Lhyn would accompany the second tank, ready to reassure the Resilere with her limited vocabulary should it become necessary.

  They rolled out into the shuttle bay, even higher and more cavernous than hydroponics, but filled with the sharp scents of machinery and lubricants. Before they were halfway to the waiting cargo shuttle, she heard the lift doors open again and turned to see Lhyn’s affirming nod as she walked out ahead of her tank.

  The shuttle’s rear hatch was open, but no ramp stretched from it to the deck. Zeppy led her up a short flight of steps instead.

  She had been in this shuttle once before, when the captain conducted her tour. The pilot and passenger area up front was separated by an airlock from the open space that made up the rest. Loaders and movers and gad
getry Rahel hadn’t yet learned about were attached to the ceiling and rear hatch, currently stowed in their resting positions. Up by the airlock, equipment lockers lined the forward bulkhead. Fold-out seats were stowed in the bulkheads to the sides, and the deck was clean and bare.

  Just inside the hatch, Zeppy opened a panel and danced his fingers over the controls behind it. A kind of secondary cockpit whirred as it unfolded itself from the shuttle’s hull. It consisted of a chair inside a protective frame, with an intimidating array of switches, controls, and what looked like two large, open gloves.

  He stepped out of the hatch and settled into the chair, eyes crinkling as he smiled. “The captain didn’t show you this, eh?”

  She shook her head. “What is it?”

  “Wait and see. And don’t move a step from where you are.”

  Humming to himself, he flipped switches and slid his fingers down a lit pad. The metal arms attaching the chair to the hull extended, leaving it suspended above the deck and a body length from the shuttle. Then Zeppy put his hands inside the gloves. “Here we go!” he called.

  Rahel nearly jumped out of the hatch when the loader that had been resting against the ceiling suddenly came to life. It swung down and smoothly moved past her, its wide arms pressed together until it passed through the hatch. With a grace she would not have believed possible for such a large piece of machinery, the arms opened up, slid around the sides of the heavy tank, and lifted it off the cargo mover.

  “Coming in,” Zeppy announced, fluidly reversing the loader.

  What was most surprising, Rahel thought as the tank moved past her at knee level, was how quiet this equipment was. Numerous joints and servos were in motion, and it was handling a great weight, yet all she heard was a soft purr.

  The loader slid along the shuttle’s ceiling, carrying the Resilere deeper inside, then set the tank down so gently that the water barely rippled. She turned to see how Zeppy had managed that and jerked her head back at finding him right next to her. He had propelled the control chair into the hatch, watching the tank as he manipulated the loader.

  “Still think you want to go into security?” he asked. “Operations has better toys.”

  “I’m reconsidering. How long does it take to learn to use that?”

  “To use it? Couple of hours. To use it like me? Years.” He swung away, the loader following him out like a massive mechanical pet.

  The second tank was brought inside with equal ease. While Zeppy returned the loader and control chair to their stowed positions, his staff locked the tanks in place with a complicated web of straps. Rahel went from one to the other, projecting her assurance and confidence until the Resilere fluffed back out from their flattened positions. They hadn’t enjoyed the ride into the shuttle.

  Lhyn crouched beside her, having come inside with the rest of the staff. “I’m playing their calming words. They look a bit rough.”

  “I think this might remind them of when they were taken,” Rahel said. “The machinery and being moved around like this.”

  Zeppy squatted on her other side. “I’ll eat my insignia if I didn’t make that ten times smoother than a bunch of illegal miners.”

  “They were cargo crew,” Lhyn pointed out. “I’m sure they knew how to operate loaders.”

  “Not like me. And they thought they were moving rocks.” Once again, he used Rahel’s shoulder to help propel himself upright. “Time for you to go up front, Dr. Rivers.”

  Lhyn rested a hand on Rahel’s leg. “I hate to go,” she said softly.

  “I know.” Intellectual excitement hadn’t been Lhyn’s only driving force these last few days. Her sadness at this separation was thick and sticky.

  “Right. Well, we shouldn’t keep them trapped any longer than we have to. Take care of yourselves,” she said to the Resilere. “I’m sorry my species was such a bunch of assheads. At least now you know some of us are better than that. I hope we can meet again someday, when I’ve learned your language.” She touched the tank, but no Resilere came to match her position. With a disappointed sigh, she unfolded her long legs and walked toward the open airlock.

  “You too,” Zeppy said. “You’ll be more comfortable for the first part of the trip up front. Come back here and get suited up after we’ve cleared the ship.”

  She followed Lhyn through the airlock into the much smaller passenger compartment. Up ahead, she saw a familiar head bent over the pilot’s controls, the stripes burned into his hair follicles making him instantly recognizable. “Commander Lokomorra! I didn’t know you were flying us.”

  He spun the seat around and grinned, both dimples denting his cheeks. “Captain Serrado said I needed to have some fun. You and Lhyn got to run all over the ship and play with the Resilere. Half the section chiefs were there with you. All I got to do was sit up on the bridge. Do you know how boring it is to sit on the bridge when the Phoenix isn’t doing anything?”

  Lhyn chuckled as she took the copilot’s seat. “You might not want to get any more promotions. Ekatya says she had much more fun as a commander, back when they let her off the ship now and again.”

  “Yeah, but as a captain she can shove things off on her overworked exec. I took sixteen more calls from Enkara researchers!”

  “Shit rolls downhill.” Lhyn’s head was down as she attached her harness, but Rahel could have felt her amusement from the other side of the shuttle bay.

  “See? When you’re captain, you’re on top of the hill.”

  “You also make the biggest target,” Rahel said absently, looking for her own harness straps in the seat behind Lokomorra. She paused, then met their stares. “What? It’s true.”

  Lhyn shook her head. “You really do think like a warrior.”

  “I am a warrior.”

  “The hatch is sealed,” Zeppy said over the com. “We’re good to go.”

  With everyone strapped in and launch permission received, Lokomorra lifted the craft off the deck and nosed into the exit tunnel. Guidance lights flashed down its length, and to the left Rahel could see the large window of the control room. She wondered if the same crew members were inside now as when she had been there with the captain.

  The bay doors were already open, a square of deepest black against the brightly lit tunnel. She was fascinated by the way the atmospheric force field passed over their shuttle, a perfect white line following the contours of the craft before they reached the doors. During her tour, she had asked Captain Serrado why the force field wasn’t flush with the Phoenix’s hull.

  “So we can repair it without exposing the whole tunnel to vacuum and sending crew out in envirosuits,” was the answer.

  One of the biggest surprises of her first patrol was how practical the Gaians were. With their advanced technology, she had expected things to be more magical. It was a relief that they weren’t. Magical aliens would have been hard to live up to. Practical people who solved problems in ways that made sense to her—these were people she could work with.

  The last of the tunnel slid past, and they emerged into the vastness of space. Rahel tried to imprint the view on her memory, but found it too much to take in. Millions of stars everywhere she looked, stretching into infinity . . . she didn’t think anyone could be unchanged by a sight like this.

  Then they passed over the Phoenix’s engine cradle and turned, and the previous view paled by comparison.

  Ahead was an alien world, almost entirely ocean but for the mountains that marched across its surface in narrow, criss-crossing bands. They looked like bumpy little lines from here, but Lhyn had said yesterday that they were twice as tall as anything on Alsea—five times, if you counted the part underwater.

  And behind Enkara, bigger than anything Rahel could have imagined, was the gas giant Sisifenach. It seemed blurry, with no sharp outlines, making her want to rub her eyes and look again. The bands of red, orange, and yellow that encircled it were interrupted by vortices of a red so dark as to be nearly purple. They were massive storms with phenomenal w
ind speeds, and each could fit three or four Alseas. The numbers were a struggle to wrap her brain around, but looking at it now, with her own eyes, she understood. This was the magic of the Gaians: their ability to travel among such wonders.

  “Did I tell you what Sisifenach means?” Lhyn asked.

  Rahel shook her head. “I thought it was a sneeze.”

  Lokomorra chuckled, and Lhyn stared at her in open-mouthed disbelief.

  “A sneeze?”

  She shrugged, holding back a smile. “Sounded like it.”

  Lhyn’s brows drew together. “It means,” she said in a deliberate manner, “queen of storms.”

  “Which is apt, don’t you think?” Lokomorra asked. “The stormiest people I know are all women.”

  “Oh, for the—I can’t believe you said that!”

  “Two words,” he said. “Dr. Wells.”

  “You’re giving me a data set of one? Worse than useless.”

  “My mother. There’s two.”

  “Now we know why you never went into science.”

  Rahel gave up on the smile. “He’s playing you, and you’re letting him.”

  “Hey! Don’t spoil it.”

  “Sayana,” Zeppy said over the com. “It’s time.”

  Lhyn didn’t allow her envy or longing to show on her face. “Be safe.”

  “I will. Don’t let him yank you off.”

  As she opened the airlock, she heard Lokomorra asking, “Does yanking off mean what I think it means?”

  “No,” Lhyn said flatly, and Rahel laughed to herself before shutting the door behind her.

  Zeppy and his crew were already in envirosuits, sitting in the fold-out seats along the bulkhead and holding their helmets in their laps. He pointed to the locker closest to the airlock.

  Inside was an envirosuit in the size that Commander Cox had determined fit her best. She had checked it before sending it aboard, but mindful of her recent training, she checked it again to be sure. Though Enkara had a thin atmosphere, its extremely low levels of oxygen meant that any faults in this suit would result in rapid asphyxiation.