Ardulum

by J. S. Fields

  —Distress call from Risalian Cutter 7 to the Markin Council, September 30th, 2060 CE

  The utter ridiculousness of her current situation struck Neek as she sat before the yellow sand beach that ran along the border of her home province. Positioning herself right at the edge of the surf, she shuddered every time the cool, blue water lapped at her shins. The sun was just finishing its set, and she could barely make out Nicholas and Emn splashing around in some of the tide pools.

  The arrival of Mercy’s Pledge on her home planet had been kept quiet due to Emn—and the potential for planetwide riots. With the exception of several medics and government officials, no one had come to see the crew since their landing. They’d been placed in a small house just on the edge of Neek’s home province of T’billk, near a small fishing village where she’d spent her youth.

  Neek wasn’t sure what she’d expected upon returning. She was home, and that should have been enough. It was still a pleasure to watch the moons rise each evening, to revel in their pale green and purple hues. Each time a settee flew overhead, however, it felt like another piece of herself was torn away. They were only a few hundred kilometers from the Heaven Guard training facility, which meant every day Neek awoke to the engine whine of novice pilots on their training runs, and every night she went to bed watching the advanced pilots practice formations.

  The constant reminder stung more than she cared to admit. She wasn’t Guard. She would never be Guard. She was sitting on a beach with an Ardulan—real or constructed—and yet what she truly wanted was still just out of reach. Neek had given up on the concept of “fair” long ago, but the cruel irony was not lost on her.

  It didn’t help that the only thing to have changed in her absence was, well, her. It was now two hundred and twenty years after the departure of Ardulum by the Neek calendar—and ten years after Neek herself had been exiled. Yet, when she watched capital broadcasts, the same bills were debated in the government, the same prayers said at temple. The Neek Journal of Science and Technology still published the same types of articles on andal production and potential reasons for the increasing crop failures.

  It was as insufferable as the day she left. Neek had since piloted alien ships, been in firefights, gotten drunk in bars, and now—now was in possession of an Ardulan. Maybe. Didn’t that warrant news? Religious fervor? Movement of some kind? At the very least, it should have bought repatriation and a chance to see her family.

  Her frustration was compounded by their isolation. Even with all of that news, all the stories Neek could share with her family, the government forbade her from contacting anyone. They were functionally prisoners in the small seaside house. Nicholas’s little handheld communicator hadn’t even been able to reach her uncle. The only outside contact they received was the steady stream of medics that came by to take samples from Emn, who always smiled at Neek even when the needles hurt.

  Neek stood slowly, brushing the sand from her pants and watching the small grains crystallize with her stuk and fall in a lazy loop from her fingertips. Wisps of light hair, pulled from her braid by the wind, waved in front of her vision as she called for Nicholas and Emn. The temperature was dropping quickly, and the last thing she needed was to have one of them get sick.

  “Come on, you two, time to come in.” She motioned towards the house. Nicholas looked up, nodded, and scooped Emn into his arms, carrying her out of the water. She looked quizzically at him, and he pointed to Neek and then the house. Emn’s face broke into a large grin as she waved back at Neek.

  Neek smiled at the girl as she traversed the rocky path to the small bungalow where the crew was currently housed. It was newly constructed, and the wall planks still smelled of sweet andal sap. Although Neek guessed it had been erected solely for their containment, the builders had not skimped on design despite the time crunch. The edge joinery was hand-carved, alternating between hidden hook-pin and locking trapezoid cuts. The roof was thatched andal bark, the black, curly periderm unmistakable. The windows were even decorated with reliefs of andal trees, their long, extensive root systems entwining across wooden frames. There might be doubts within the government about Emn’s godhood, but clearly the president was not willing to completely toss the idea aside. Architecture like this was not taken up lightly.

  “Those two should sleep well tonight,” Neek commented as Yorden looked up from the ship schematics he had spread across an antique andal table. Neek pulled out one of the small stools, the covering of which she suspected was made from andal rayon, and rested one knee on top. She pushed some of Yorden’s scribbled notes aside to clear a small space and then leaned down onto her elbows. “How’s the ship? I hope you’re taking my suggestion about paint color seriously.”

  “No magenta, Neek. However, if your government is serious about all these upgrades—” Yorden motioned to the pile of papers. “—then we’ve hit the jackpot. We should have picked up an Ardulan god sooner. The Pledge is getting Flex-Plate, the new bioplastic from Cell-Tal that uses only andal cellulose. It’s supposed to be super pure—the best stuff on the market. Much more resistant to laser fire, and they’ve got some new coating derived from fungi that absorbs UV and helps power the ship. We’ll save tons of fuel.”

  Neek looked pointedly at Yorden. “This is just a distraction to keep us from getting restless, and you know it.”

  “Yes, but I’m not willing to pass it up, either. We’re not going anywhere, so we might as well get something out of it.” Yorden sifted through the pile. Schematics, drawings, and a few sheets of what looked curiously like doodles were scattered across the work surface. Finally, the captain pulled a bland piece of paper from the edge of the table and handed it to Neek. “Take a look. New comm line, rebuilt engines, a few new sensors, cellulosic food printer. We’re losing part of the cargo hold for a battery to store the solar cell energy we collect from the fungus stuff. Shouldn’t be too big of a deal. The only time we ever use the full capacity is when we haul andal for the Markin, and after the last few weeks, I don’t see that happening again.”

  “Those hauls make ends meet,” Neek pointed out, tossing the paper back onto the table. “That food printer better come with extra cartridges, or we’ll starve to death. Especially if we—”

  The tickle in the back of Neek’s mind ballooned, and her eyes unfocused. The mental link with Emn—a persistent, dancing presence—drenched her mind as the girl entered the bungalow, Nicholas trailing behind. Neek caught images of sand and surf, small aquatic life forms, light and airy emotions, and, clamoring to the forefront, hunger. The pilot pushed it all to the side, tucking it into the far corner of her mind until her vision cleared. She’d have to figure out how to regulate their connection before she tripped or drove the Pledge into a star or something equally uncomfortable.

  The cooling unit—older, likely, than the table Yorden was composing the rebirth of his ship upon—shuddered as Nicholas pried the door open. He took a large, leafy vegetable from inside, broke it in half on the countertop, and offered half to Emn. Emn shook her head and made a set of hand motions to Nicholas, who shrugged his shoulders. Curious, Neek prodded their link, and an image of andal sapling twigs sprang into her mind.

  “I think she wants more of the little trees,” Nicholas said. “They look like epicormic sprouts of some kind. The food basket yesterday had some in it, and she took them out before I could get a good look. We didn’t get any new ones today.”

  “Andal twigs,” Neek muttered. “Because of course she would eat andal.” Louder, she added, “The holy books don’t mention anything about Ardulans eating andal, just planting it. Just another mystery, I suppose. Although why the Risalians would engineer her to eat an endangered tree that is in high enough demand to be nearly unaffordable is beyond me. Also, it only grows on Neek, as far as I know. Those Risalian attempts at plantation farming never seemed to yield anything.”

  The mental question came again, this time with a touch more force.

  Sorry, Emn, Neek sent. We do
n’t have any more here. Could you eat a vegetable instead? I think there is some more lettuce in the cooler.

  Distaste strong enough to border on disgust was the only response Neek got.

  “Look, I don’t understand how you’re even digesting the wood,” the pilot said out loud. “Unless you are harboring some intense gut microflora, your body shouldn’t be able to digest woody tissue. Young shoots, sure, but stems? Those are some highly specific enzymatic requirements.”

  “She’s been eating like that since she came out of stasis,” Nicholas said. “How is this the first time you’ve noticed? You spend all that time talking to her—or creepily staring, I can’t tell which. You really hadn’t noticed?”

  Neek put her head in her hands. The words that came next were more guttural than Common, but she didn’t care. “I’ve got a lot going on right now, junior. Fuck off.”

  You’re cranky, Emn sent, her tone indicating more of a question than a statement. Neek forced herself to calm down. The last thing she needed was tears. She’d be remembered as the heretic that made the Ardulan child weep, which would go over about as well with the general populace as when the president broadcast the anti-Ardulan manifesto she’d written her first term in flight school.

  Instead of responding, Neek forced herself to yawn. Complex emotions and religious reevaluations could wait for another day. “I need to get some rest,” she said, getting up from the stool and walking towards the sleeping quarters. “If anyone comes…”

  “We’ll let you know,” Yorden responded. “See you in the morning, but don’t forget: the science minister will be here right at daybreak for testing.”

  Damn it, that was right. She’d completely forgotten. Either the government had gotten over its initial wariness, or whatever tests they wanted to run could no longer be entrusted to low-grade medics. The science minister was second in line to the president. A visit from her was risky, considering how things were left between Neek and the president. What was to keep Neek from just shooting the woman in the face, other than morality?

  Neek fantasized on that course of action for a few moments as she stood and walked to her room, a grin of smug satisfaction creeping over her face. Tantalizing as it was, she wanted answers, too. She could always shoot the science minister later, after she’d gotten clearance to see her family.

  Another few steps brought her to her room. A gust of wind from the open window in the hall slammed the door shut behind her, bringing with it the smell of salt water and andal sap. It smelled so much like home. If she closed her eyes, she was certain she would wake up in her childhood bed. Her father would be cooking breakfast, and the smell of crisp meat and fruit would be hovering just on the other side of her door. Her mother would be working on some crop rotation project—she was always working on something related to their farmland. Her talther—her third parent—would have already gone out to swim with her brother, their morning exercise never skipped no matter what the weather. All Neek had to do was get up, open the heavy andal door, and join them.

  A wind current crept in from underneath the door, funneling several young leaves as it entered. Neek opened her eyes. There was no thick, woolen pad here for her to sleep on, no paintings of settees adorning the walls, no trillium flowers in a vase near the window. She couldn’t look at the bare walls, sap still leaking from joinery incisions, and pretend to be anywhere else. She was never going home. It was time she accepted that.

  Neek fell onto the bed face-first, her mind awash in stupid, irrelevant memories. As she drifted to sleep, the faint whine of the settees seeped through the wood walls and brought with it swirling images of a torn robe falling at her feet, gold and green colors intermingling with crimson and the pale, auburn glint of her own blood.

  * * *

  A gentle shake roused Emn from a dream about crimson ships and Neek people who wore far too much yellow clothing. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she padded after Nicholas towards the largest room in the house. Her stomach growled. Emn hoped more andal would arrive today. The Neek vegetables tasted terrible and made her feel sleepy, and the thought of eating meat turned her stomach.

  A delicious smell wafted as she entered the room. A woman stood in the center of the area with a large basket of andal near her foot, the twigs fresh-cut with thick, white sap beading at the ends. Emn licked her lips and stepped past Nicholas. The twigs would make a delightful breakfast. Another quick step brought her within grabbing distance of the basket. She reached out, hands centimeters from a thick twig, when Neek’s hand fell onto her shoulder. Caution bounced across their link, bound up in some complex memories Neek was trying to suppress. Emn’s hand dropped, and so did her smile. Breakfast had to wait, apparently.

  Since no words were chasing the emotions, Emn filed the warning and turned her attention to the other Neek woman. She was tall—almost as tall as Neek, but nowhere near Yorden’s height. Her skin was the same copper color as Neek’s, but her hair was a deeper red and her build much thinner. She looked frail to Emn—too wispy to carry out important tasks like ship repair or piloting.

  Emn looked at the other Neek in the room. Everyone kept staring at the woman, the other Neek bowing their heads when she addressed them and constantly handing her biofilms to read. She seemed important, but Emn couldn’t figure out why. The woman had a deep purple dress that swished around her legs when she walked, which was pretty and a color Emn had not seen before on this planet, but other than that, she didn’t seem that special. She certainly didn’t seem important enough to be causing all the leaky emotions Emn was getting from her Neek.

  The woman sneezed, and her nose contorted upwards, giving her more of a Risalian look. Something about the action made Neek’s emotions flare and then quickly extinguish. The hand on Emn’s shoulder tightened, and the girl took a step closer to the pilot. She decided she didn’t like the science minister. The woman made her Neek uneasy, the pilot shifting on her feet, her stuk thin and dripping. That was unacceptable. Emn decided she wouldn’t be nice to the woman. Her Neek was more important.

  Neek lead Emn backwards from the basket, each step a disappointment as the andal basket became farther and farther away. They finally stopped near the wall of the pentagonal room, opposite the door leading outside. Emn had been in here a few times before, primarily in the evenings with the crew. After the sun went behind the horizon, Neek and Yorden, and sometimes Nicholas, would talk out loud about the Neek planet, the Risalians, and sometimes even Ardulans. Emn’s comprehension of spoken Common was getting better, and she could follow the dialogue, but every once in a while, Yorden spoke in languages called Polish and Yiddish, and Neek wouldn’t translate the words.

  Today the room was hot, the air stagnant with the windows closed. Bright sunlight streaked across the panes and highlighted the andal basket, making it even harder to ignore. The Neek spoke to one another in their native tongue, which Neek was not translating for her. Emn didn’t want to push Neek to share, since all her previous attempts to strengthen their connection had been met with Neek pulling back even farther. Since the science minister wasn’t interesting, Emn focused on the andal, imagining what the fresh twigs would taste like, how sweet the sap would be when she took that first crunch into the cambium. The Neek needed to hurry up so she could eat.

  Finally, the sticky hand on her shoulder shifted, and Neek pressed on her mind. “This is Emn,” Neek said in Common to the woman in the purple dress. “Get whatever-it-is done, Minister. We have a busy social calendar to keep.”

  “Exile, enough. We have to be sure. You know that. How do you think it looks, having you bring an Ardulan back to our planet? If the president is to go down this road, there can be no doubts, especially not about your intentions.” The minister smoothed wrinkles from the side of her dress and picked a twig from the basket, offering it to Emn. “I heard you favored these, little one. Please, help yourself.”

  Two fat, glistening drops of sap landed soundlessly on the polished wood floor. Emn pleaded with Ne
ek with raw emotion. She was so hungry. One twig would get her through the testing. She just needed one.

  Neek relented, and Emn shot forward. The twig end was in her mouth before the minister knew what was happening, a small gasp Emn’s only indication that she might have startled the woman. She didn’t care. The wood was springy, fresh, and, while difficult to masticate, absolutely delicious.

  “We’d like to start with a simple mechanical test,” the minister said, her eyes fixed on Emn in fascination.

  The girl flipped the end of the twig into her mouth and crunched loudly, relishing the final release of sap. She licked the lingering sugar from her fingers and then wiped them dry on the hem of her dress. The fullness in her stomach made her feel better about the minister. She had thought to bring andal, after all. Maybe her Neek was overreacting.

  The minister took a small, black pistol from a holster on her hip. She offered it, hilt-first, to Emn and then knelt before her.

  “Do I want to know why you have a gun?” Neek asked with a frown.

  The minister gave Neek a withering glare before addressing Emn. “I’m the minister of science on Neek,” she said as Emn took the gun. “You’ve been patient with us, been through many tests. Thank you. What we need now is a physical demonstration of your Talent. It’s outside the defined structure we have on record for Ardulans, and we would like to better understand the mechanics.”

  They want to watch me break cellulose? Emn asked Neek, wrinkling her nose as she did so. Why? It’s boring, and the last time, I blew up a ship and hurt you. I don’t think this is a good idea. She ran her fingertips over the scarring on Neek’s arm, where glass shards from the console had shredded her skin. Neek jerked under her touch, and the pilot pulled her arm behind her back.

  “Emn has a point,” Neek said caustically. “If the goal is for her to blow up the house, this seems a solid method for achieving that.”

  “We’ve taken precautions, and we just want a small demonstration.” The minister’s eyes narrowed, and she stood, turning to Neek. “Your opinions are not needed here, Exile. Keep them to yourself until I ask for them.”