by J. S. Fields
“Almost through the second layer, I think,” Neek called over the increasing pitch of the tool. “Whatever is in here can’t be that big.”
A loud POP filled the cargo hold, and a blast of putrid air and smoke blew out from the cylinder. Neek fell back, knocked off her haunches. Yorden and Nicholas took several steps backwards as well. When the air cleared, Neek could see a large, burst seam running across the cylinder. The indicator lights had ceased functioning. The entire unit appeared to be dead.
Placing a hand on either side of the seam, Neek slowly pulled the two edges apart. The metal seemed to give way easily, and a rush of sparks accompanied a preadolescent female as she tumbled unceremoniously out of the tube and onto the floor.
“What the—” Neek fell backwards, scrambling away from the child, certain her eyes were deceiving her.
Before the pilot was a little girl. Her translucent, white skin showed a patchwork of purple veins running just underneath the surface, the mass so thick that her organs couldn’t be seen. Her body was also, Neek noted in horror, covered in a substantial amount of blood and nothing else. Her hair was long, chestnut colored, and pulled back behind her neck in a rough tail. A small, black triangle, roughly the size of Yorden’s pinkie nail, showed through the skin just under her left eye. She was completely unconscious.
“I thought I heard Lug mention Ardulans,” Yorden commented. “You okay, Neek?”
Nicholas moved forward to touch the girl, and Neek grabbed him by the shirt, hauling him away. “Don’t touch her! Don’t go near her!” Neek was certain she was hallucinating. “Ardulum is a fairy tale,” she whispered. “This is someone’s idea of a sick joke. This is not real. This is a joke.”
“A very intricate joke, apparently.” Yorden nudged the girl’s arm with his toe. “The vein work is exquisite. Tattoos maybe?”
Neek shook her head, her eyes wide. She released Nicholas and ran to the communications panel—slapping the door open with her palm. “Who cares? Let’s get Captain Lug on the comm and tell her we’re not amused by this.” Neek’s hand shook as she tried to tap in the docking berth number of the pod, stuk rivulets cascading down the panel. On her third try, she felt Nicholas tap her on the shoulder. She spun around and glared at him.
“If she’s alive, then she sure looks like she’s in rough shape. Don’t you want to, I don’t know, check her pulse or something? Maybe she needs help.”
Yorden moved closer to the girl and rested a hand on her forehead. “She’s warm, and she’s obviously breathing, so she’s alive. Nicholas, give me a hand to get her scrubbed off. It might wake her up in the process. Once she’s awake, we can get some answers…and figure out where to drop her off.”
“Drop her off?” Nicholas asked, incredulous. He walked to a water port near the door and filled the bucket there. “You don’t drop children off. You raise them.”
“Mercy’s Pledge is not a crèche,” Yorden responded sourly as Nicholas handed him the bucket. He pulled a piece of cloth from the top of a nearby container and began to wash off the blood. “Although that does bring up an excellent point. Where is the best place to drop off a maybe-Ardulan child?” The captain looked pointedly at Neek. “This is an unprecedented opportunity for you. ‘Religious heretic returns with god’ would be a headline that might give your president a heart attack and would certainly get you past the upper atmosphere of Neek.”
Yorden’s words blurred together. Nicholas said something in response, but Neek didn’t hear it at all. Her mind rang with words and images from her childhood, all tumbling over one another and piling into a dark, seething mess. An old nursery rhyme came to the forefront, and Neek found herself repeating it silently. The planet that vanishes, the planet that sleeps…
It was all too ridiculous to even consider, but that didn’t stop the thoughts from racing across Neek’s mind. Every Neek child knew the stories of Ardulum. They were forced to read all the sacred texts in school, to memorize all the ballads, to recite the genealogies. Every statue in every town square had an Ardulan carving. Every art gallery was covered with Ardulan murals, and that girl—that unconscious, blood-soaked little girl—looked like she had fallen out of a painting, out of time itself, and right at Neek’s feet.
“Neek.” Yorden’s voice filtered into her mind. She tried to focus on the captain, on Nicholas, on anything other than the girl.
“I remember some of those myths you told me about your planet. This doesn’t make them true.” A large hand fell on her shoulder. She shrugged it off. “Besides, how often does exoneration fall at your feet, even if it might not be real?”
“Doesn’t it make them true?” she snapped. “How many times did I lead those rallies against Ardulum? Against our president and his archaic worldview? What would you call that girl? Dark hair with red highlights, translucent skin, black markings, bipedal—do you know of another species that has those characteristics?”
“Neek, no one in the Charted Systems has heard of Ardulans other than your people,” Nicholas said. “A moving planet can’t be real. The physics don’t make sense. Besides, she just looks like a sickly, tattooed Terran.”
Yorden wiped his hands on the sides of his flight suit while Nicholas wrapped the girl in a soft, yellow blanket. The bath had cleared the blood and grime, but her skin was still just as pale, the mark under her eye just as striking. Neek moved forward then, propelled out of her stupor by a sudden desire to touch that translucent skin, to trace the black outline under the eye and see for herself. She took two steps and stopped again, something nagging at the back of her mind. Something was amiss.
Neek closed her eyes and sorted through all the Ardulan stories she’d been going over with her uncle. Was it in the first holy book, The Book of the Arrival, where there was mention of the markings? Maybe. It was something about Talents, something about those funny tattoo things that were really just busted veins and how they linked to specific skills…
Neek’s eyes flew open in realization, and she leaned in more closely. The mark under the girl’s eye—Ardulan children didn’t carry markings. Those developed later, during the second don, when the new adult would manifest her abilities and the corresponding bruising would appear and remain. The bruising was a permanent indication of the adult’s Talent. Ardulan children couldn’t manifest. They were also wholly dependent on their mothers—Neek vaguely remembered something about telepathic bridgeways and mental development.
She released a breath and relaxed her shoulders. The girl couldn’t be Ardulan. She was a fabrication, had the markings of a fraud. It was all an elaborate hoax. Ardulum was still a myth. But maybe, maybe, she could use it. There were enough similarities, certainly. Was it enough to convince her home planet? Her uncle? Kid could get a home with some nice Neek parents who’d spoil her rotten, maybe get to lead a planet one day, and Neek could…what? Suppress her disgust at the entire system of governance long enough to see her family again? Help her mother get better while fielding persistent questions from reporters? Be trotted all over the planet by her uncle as validation for the Ardulan religion?
“What do we do with her now?” Nicholas asked the captain, bringing Neek back to the immediate problem. “That bath didn’t seem to wake her up. Think she’s still in stasis?”
“We’ll put her in the other cargo hold for now, on top of some blankets. She either wakes up or she doesn’t. I’m no doctor, and with the price I’m paying to have the armor and fuel tank on this ship repaired, I certainly can’t afford one either.” Yorden glanced at the small girl, and his tone softened. “Ardulan or not, that’s all we can do for her.”
* * *
Neek wandered around the Pledge, running her fingers over the decaying walls and listening to the sounds of the repair crew as they peeled old armor plating from the transport and replaced it with modern sheets pressure-treated with bioreflecting spray. It was a noisy task, and one that was scheduled to take most of the day. She’d spent a fitful night tossing in bed, finally waking up in
the very early morning covered in stuk and clutching the strange vegetable peeler she’d purchased from Chen.
She thought back to last night, when Yorden had contacted the Mmnnuggl pod only to be informed that it had departed Callis Spaceport immediately after the ceremony. That meant the girl was theirs now, whether or not they wanted her. Yorden had let Neek decide where they’d take the girl. Now the pilot just had to make a choice.
As she turned the corner towards the cargo hold, she ran into an equally sleepy Nicholas. “Hey, Neek.” Nicholas rubbed his shoulder. “She’s still out cold—hasn’t even moved.”
Neek wrinkled her nose at the pungent, sweet aroma in the air. She peered down the hall from which Nicholas had just come and saw the broken cylinder and rust-colored puddle surrounding it. “Disgusting, Nicholas. Really. Is it that hard to use a mop?”
The young man rolled his eyes as they walked into the cargo hold. The walls here were higher than anywhere else on the ship, but most of the available space was packed with bins and tubs filled with cargo and various cargo “leftovers.”
“Bigger issues at hand, don’t you think?” he asked. “How long can Ardulans go without food or water?”
“She is not Ardulan,” Neek spat, her tone more acerbic than she intended. “Ardulan children are never separated from their mothers before the second don. They can’t survive without the telepathic connection. If she were Ardulan, we would have no way of saving her. That stasis chamber…it would have been designed to incubate her into her second don, a stage past puberty—somewhere between adulthood and advanced maturity.”
Nicholas pursed his lips and leaned against a corrugated cardboard box overflowing with biped dresses. “What if she’s Terran? There are only three bipedal species in the Systems, and no way is she Risalian. Mom gave me a genome analyzer before I left for Journey. I could do a scan and see if it matches any on record.”
Neek turned to Nicholas. “Why…never mind. I have a better idea. Let’s try a more direct approach to answering our questions. Something a little less scientific. We need more information before we go around pretending we have an Ardulan onboard.” She pulled back a section of blanket, exposing the girl’s bare shoulder. Slowly, she placed the fingertips of her right hand onto the flesh.
The stuk from her fingers hardened upon contact, effectively sealing Neek in place. “That’s…different,” she commented as Nicholas looked at her quizzically. “I wonder what…” She didn’t finish her thought.
The girl’s eyes abruptly opened and stared directly at Neek. She felt a tugging at the back of her head that made it feel like someone was trying to compress her brain. A blinding pressure dropped into her skull. Then Neek started to scream.
Chapter 5: Mercy’s Pledge
The planet arrived on a crisp evening during the month of Yvet. It appeared a pale orange in our sky, a comet tail streaking behind it that outshone our sun. It stopped between Neek’s third and fourth moon and took orbit—the sheer size of it filling the night sky and making it appear as if the heavens were on fire.
—Excerpt from the Neek text, The Book of the Arrival
Risalians in gray tunics held a struggling woman. The girl was dragged away towards a stasis cylinder. Wordless terror filled the room. A laser pistol discharged into the woman’s head, and then came an anguished mental scream. The scene replayed yet again.
I’m dreaming, Neek thought, not for the first time. It’s a horrible, never-ending dream. Shoving the child into the cylinder, the Risalian shut the latch, sealing her inside. The world blanked white for a moment, before starting again. Risalians entered a room of metal mesh.
Neek screamed. If she had to watch the scene again, she would lose what remained of her sanity.
Neek shoved at the cage of metal mesh, but there was no door, no control panel, no exit… No escape. The woman’s emotions were building again, the mental images ripping through Neek’s mind. The thoughts were chaotic, disordered, and simplistic. Reactions drenched in fear.
Neek banged her head against the mesh wall. There was no pain, which didn’t help to alleviate her frustration, but it did keep her from having to watch. She kept her eyes closed and her head bowed as the laser shot reverberated through the memory. She waited for another reset, but this time the floor underneath her feet shook. Neek opened her eyes and looked around. The little girl stood next to her and, while Neek paused, clasped Neek’s hand.
Neek tried to make eye contact. The girl’s eyes were unseeing and glassy, as if there wasn’t anything behind them. Neek snapped her fingers in front of the girl, but there was no response.
The scene began yet again.
“Is this how you got into the cylinder?” Neek asked. The girl continued to stare at her mother, as though she hadn’t heard. The mother’s translucent skin caught Neek’s attention momentarily, the tattoo prominent on her face. “Hey, yoo-hoo!” Neek gave the girl’s arm a gentle swing. “What’s this all about? Is there any chance we might return to the world of the living at some point?”
At the swing, the child turned her dead eyes up to stare at Neek. Neek felt a slight pressure on her mind, like someone was timidly stroking the inside of her skull. She chased the feeling and crashed into a wave of loneliness and despair so thick she forgot how to breathe.
Neek gasped, clutching and clawing her throat. Eyes widening with alarm, the girl released Neek’s hand and backed away quickly. The feelings abruptly ceased, and Neek fell to her knees, trying to breathe normally.
“Are you trying to kill me?!” she demanded. The girl wasn’t paying attention to Neek anymore. A BANG went off, and the mother’s body again slumped to the floor. Blood seeped over pale skin as the prominent veins faded with each passing moment. Bits of brain matter stuck to dull red hair.
“Think maybe we could talk about this? Who are you? Why are you impersonating an Ardulan?” Neek surveyed the scene, which was just about to refresh. “Why am I watching this again?”
The girl kept her eyes fixed on the body. Neek got up, stomped over to her, and put her hand on the child’s shoulder. “I’m talking to you,” she said.
The pressure played at the edges of her mind again. This time, Neek drew away quickly. “Uh-uh, kid. Not doing that again. Let’s try to talk, like normal sentients.” The girl looked up at her with a perplexed expression. The pressure came again, firmer this time. Neek tried to push the girl back, but she skirted through Neek’s mind, evading. Searching. Prodding.
A memory came.
Neek was standing with her cohort at the graduation ceremony. She stood at the front, silver robe billowing behind her in the wind. She was first in her class. She would move on to master training and, once she passed the skill tests, would be invited to the Heaven Guard. Crimson settees flew overhead, and Neek’s stuk began to thicken in anticipation. One of those was now hers to train in for the next five years until she became a full member of the Guard and was gifted a brand-new ship. She would become a protector. A searcher. A sentry. She would be free of her family’s legacy.
The crowd cheered. Her three parents, seated just meters away from her, clicked their tongues wildly. Neek felt awash in their praise and the adoration of her friends. She was the first in her family to make it this far in training. Nothing could rival this moment.
There was movement then, from the corner of her vision. A sleek, gold hovercraft pulled to the edge of the crowd. Neek’s smile fell. Who would interrupt the ceremony of the elite Heaven Guard? Her roommate shifted, and Neek put out a hand to steady her.
Silence fell in the crowd. The door to the hovercraft opened, and the president of Neek stepped out, flanked by three guards. Murmurs began behind her. Her classmates scooted away. Neek’s heart rate increased. He couldn’t. Not here. Not now. This moment was too important.
The president came towards her, the crowd parting. The guards stripped her of her robe, the silver fabric tearing as rough hands pulled at it. The fabric caught in the wind and blew back into her coho
rt, catching on her roommate’s foot.
She tried to fight them off, but they were bigger. She was pulled away from the cohort, towards the hovercraft. She heard her parents’ screams but could only see the face of the president before her, grinning.
“I warned you to keep your mouth shut,” he whispered into her ear. The hovercraft door slammed closed, cutting off the sounds of the crowd, the whine of the settees, and the pleas of her immediate family. It was the last time she saw any of them.
“Get out!” Neek screamed. “If you want to communicate, then talk. You know, move your lips. Make sound come out.” Neek placed several fingers on her lips and moved them up and down, pantomiming the concept as best she could.
The child cocked her head to one side. Her eyes narrowed in concentration as she opened her mouth. She took a deep breath and expelled it in a loud burst, managing to emit a sort of huffing sound.
“That’s it? Neek asked. “That’s all you’ve got?”
The child looked pleased with herself and stared back at Neek. The pressure returned again, this time shockingly gentle.
“Your way or the spaceway, got it,” Neek muttered to herself. She buried her own memory and chased the pressure again, connecting with the sensation in the far back of her mind. The grief was still there—hanging in the space between the two of them like a curtain. This time it wasn’t threatening to overwhelm her senses. Neek probed a bit deeper and found the girl, her consciousness a dull, throbbing light. The girl felt hopelessness but also curiosity. Curiosity about her.
You’d think the ancient scribes could have mentioned that the Ardulans can’t speak, Neek mused. Except she’s not Ardulan. Neek knelt down and looked the girl directly in the eyes. The girl looked back, and Neek got the distinct impression that she was hungry.
