by J. S. Fields
Neek jerked at the “exile,” and although retorts seethed through her mind, she made no attempt to block them from Emn. Confusing suggestions about mating positions with various native animals and discussions of the minister’s parentage wove into the girl’s mind, the corresponding visual images shocking. Emn narrowed their link and took the pilot’s hand, and the vitriol slowed to a trickle.
“This is a standard laser gun,” the minister continued, turning back to Emn. “Please take your time looking it over.”
This gun is really ugly, Emn sent to Neek.
Agreed, Neek returned, her anger morphing into sarcasm. No decorative work on the sight at all. You’d think they’d pull better machinery out for a god.
You want me to do this then? Break the gun?
There was a mix of emotions from Neek. All entangled so thickly that Emn pushed it aside, the idea of unraveling it all overwhelming.
Yeah, Neek sent reluctantly. Just…it’s fine. Maybe if you do whatever it is they’re expecting, they’ll let us leave the hut. Neek smiled down at her then, the warmth reaching her eyes. Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll keep it under control.
Not entirely convinced, Emn took the gun and turned it over in her hands. Slowly, she let her mind wander into the physical structure, following the cellulose as it wove through the plastic casing. It was a simple design, and she intuitively understood its function. After using the lasers on the Pledge, this would take no effort at all.
“This pistol has been modified to emit a continuous stream once fired. We’ve set up some ship plating just over there.” The minister pointed to the far wall where a jagged piece of biometal was propped. “Aim for the metal. I want you to fire the pistol and then disrupt the beam by breaking the integrated cellulose, just like you did on the Pledge. We only need you to break one linkage. Polymer to monomer, that is all. The computer chip on the side of the pistol will transmit data directly to my computer here as you do.” The minister backed away a few steps and nodded. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Emn looked up at Neek for reassurance. One break didn’t seem likely to go out of control, but it still seemed stupid to risk when Neek was standing right there.
Go ahead, Neek sent. Firing a weapon inside a house is definitely not the dumbest thing that has ever happened on this planet. Just try not to hit Nicholas or Yorden, okay? Break the bond, then stop. No explosions.
It sounded easy enough, and the basket of andal was tempting her again, so Emn studied the gun one more time before raising it up and aiming at the plating. Taking a deep breath, she flicked the small, red switch on the side, initiating the beam.
Her aim was true, and a consistent white beam began to singe the biometal plate.
“One linkage, Emn. That’s all we need.”
I didn’t forget, Emn thought. Why does she talk to me like that? She felt Neek’s hand give hers a small squeeze.
She’s an ass. Just do what she wants. Then we can be done with this so you can steal the rest of her andal and I can punch her in the face.
Emn giggled at the silly imagery Neek sent as she focused inside the beam. The cellulose looked almost alive here as it coursed with the light. She picked a strand at random, choosing the easier amorphous region over the more tightly packed crystalline areas, and told it to stop moving.
The strands froze, quivering in place as its compatriots dashed around it.
Emn heard a sharp uptake of breath. “Is…is the laser frozen?” she heard someone ask.
“Only part of it, it would seem,” the minister responded. “How very unusual.”
Ignoring the comments, Emn brought her focus closer until she could see the repeating glucose units. She wove through the tightly packed crystallites to the amorphous zone, focusing on a single glucosidic bond. When the bond was completely in focus, she forced it apart, pushing with her mind and snapping the bonds. She did the same on the other end of the glucose, separating it from the longer chain.
There was a soft snap, so soft Emn wasn’t certain anyone heard, and a tiny glucose unit fell from the laser beam and onto the floor. Emn was certain no one could see it other than her. She released her hold on the broken cellulose, and the strand flopped back into the stream, its broken length causing the laser to sputter.
Neek tightened their connection. Thanks for giving me the view. Emn smiled, pleased nothing had gone wrong, and handed the gun back to the minister.
“So, you got what you came for?” Yorden asked. “Questions answered, mystery solved? I don’t care one way or the other whether or not she falls into a god category, but how about you let us venture farther than this delightful beachside resort.”
The minister didn’t answer. Instead, she continued to read and reread her screen. Emn frowned. She’d done what she was asked. A tiny piece of sugar was on the floor, and she hadn’t blown up the house. What more did the minister want? She honked indignantly, and several of the Neek attendants took a step back. Ducks could be mean, especially Neek ducks. There was plenty of cellulose nearby. If the minister kept bothering her Neek, maybe she would use it.
Neek nudged the minister with the toe of her boot. “Emn’s impatient, and so am I. I don’t know what the computer chip told you, but it looked like straightforward microscopic manipulation. Just microkinesis. It’s clearly a Talent, just not one we have on record, or she’s just an Aggression Talent with a lot of focus. Who cares?” When the minister still didn’t respond, Neek kicked her again—this time, with an audible sound. “Hey, come on. You can’t keep us here forever. Let’s take her to my uncle at the very least. He can pray over her or something. Just let us out.”
“It’s not that simple, Exile.” The minister stood, her eyes darting from Emn to the screen in her hand and back again. “This is unprecedented. The holy books are the words of the Gods. We know what Ardulans look like, how their Talents work. If there were a Talent like this, we would know. We would have records. She—” The minister began to point at Emn and then hastily shoved her hand into the back pocket on her dress. Emn hopped forward, head low, lips pursed out in her best impression of a menacing duck. “Emn isn’t like any other Ardulan we have on record.”
“We don’t have records,” Neek retorted. “We have conjecture, hearsay, and some very sketchy, thirdhand eyewitness accounts. That’s all those books are.”
The minister handed the small computer to another Neek and began to back out of the room, nodding at her attendants as she did so. “I’m grateful for your sudden interest in the Ardulan religion, Exile. It is a miracle within itself. But this… If she is an Ardulan, we have to arrange a proper welcome. We have to consult with the high priest. However, if she isn’t Ardulan, if she is instead some other species…if what you have told us about her origins are true, then we have a weapon on our hands.”
“She’s a child,” Neek hissed.
The minister blinked several times, looked at Emn, and then lowered her voice. “Exile, we have to determine range. Capacity. If Mercy’s Pledge is an indicator, she can utilize any cellulosic structure that she is directly connected to, and that connection does not appear to need physical touch. If she can boost her range by using energy from formed bonds, somehow harvesting any cellulose within an unknown range… Well, in a galaxy of high cellulose saturation, where does that leave us? On a planet full of forests, where does that leave us?” The minister took a step closer to Neek—lips tight and hands clenched. “She’s not of Science, she defies science.”
A heaviness settled over Emn, and she straightened, forgetting her game. She struggled to clarify the feelings and imagery from Neek. She saw a small house silhouetted in moonlight, much like the one they were in, on the shores of a beach. Three adults stood in the doorway, their faces blurred. Her chest hurt. It was hard to breathe.
“You’re not going to let us leave here, are you.”
It wasn’t a question.
From the doorway, the minister shook her head. “Not any time soon. Be patient, Exi
le. The president needs time to consider the implications. He needs time to take precautions.”
Neek’s grip tightened as her words crashed over one another. The whine of a ship overhead made it harder to hear. “This is your chance,” she hissed. “It shouldn’t matter to you, or the president, whether or not she is a real Ardulan. The population refuses to progress without Ardulan influence. Emn could inspire them, encourage them. People wouldn’t have to worship some fairy tale anymore. They could have something tangible, something real that they could form a new, educated belief structure around. The Neek people don’t have to be held captive by dogma anymore. No one on this planet will do anything unless it has to do with Ardulum. Why grow traditional forests—the Ardulans promoted monoculture. Why travel the Systems—the Ardulans came to us. Why develop new technology—the Ardulans gave us all we need. Fuck that. This is about stopping the stagnation of our planet, our culture. While the rest of the Systems move forward, we stay here. Never learning. Never exploring. Why? Because we are waiting for some stupid planet to reappear and tell us what to do!”
“Where’s her planet, Exile?” The minister’s tone made Emn shiver. The warmth in her eyes was gone, and the woman’s posture had turned rigid. Cold. “Why would some creatures from outside the Systems give you a little girl and no information? Her Talent, her markings, her manifestation in what appears to be a first don life stage—it isn’t consistent. You can’t fault the president for caution. She’s as if someone was constructing a caricature of an Ardulan without doing in-depth research.”
The whine of the ship increased, and a settee landed in front of the house, sand pluming into the doorway. Neek stepped back, her sudden apprehension apparent to more than just Emn.
“You’re not going anywhere. Your Terran friends may leave when they choose, but you and the girl will be with us for a while. Be happy,” she said, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly upwards. “At least you’re on your home planet again.” In a twirl of purple, the minister ascended the ramp to the ship, leaving only a trail of Neek’s raging emotions in her wake.
Chapter 12: In Orbit around Neek
I saw the aliens first in an andal field. They walked smoothly with heads held high, eyes boring straight ahead. The stalks of the andal, threshed on the ground after harvest, made no crunching sound under the soft, brown boots of the aliens. As the small group drew closer, I dropped my son’s hand and pushed him behind my back. The skin of the aliens was pale and reflected the orange light of their hovering planet. Deep, black lines covered areas on their bodies. I was afraid for myself. I was afraid for my son.
—Excerpt from The Book of The Arrival, second revised edition
“Two minutes to Neek,” a second called out from the front of the bridge.
Captain Ran stood from hir chair as the speck of a planet grew in the viewscreen. As the cutter drew closer, Neek’s four moons came into focus as well, their nondescript, stagnant surfaces a reminder of the technological hole that was the Neek system.
The Markin Council’s instructions had been clear, and Ran hoped to follow them without incident. With the crew of the Pledge trapped planetside, Ran felt more confident, although how the Neek would react to the request xe was about to make was unknown.
The cutter pulled past the first moon, and Ran allowed hir mind to drift to the few interactions the Neek people had had with the other members of the Charted Systems. Cell-Tal had quarterly andal shipments from Neek, of course, but Ran had never accompanied the Risalian couriers. Captain Kuebrich made additional runs for the Markin, of which Ran knew even less about. Ran had personally spoken with the Neek president once, over comm, to renegotiate andal prices after the invention of cellulosic food printers, and had very recently given serious consideration to strangling the Neek that traveled with Yorden. That was it. Xe could recall no other recorded instances of Neek interaction. Xe had never given it much thought, but considering the andal situation now, how much more could have been harvested, Ran wondered, if xe had ever taken the time to visit the planet as a Cell-Tal representative? Did they have untouched forests? Were their exports maximized? Why types of rotations were their plantations on, and could something as simple as nitrogen fertilization speed up harvest?
“Second, can we get a detailed topographic map of the planet up on holo?”
The gray-clad Risalian queried the computer and then shook hir head. “Apologies, Captain, but no topographic data exist for Neek.”
That explained a lot. If the planet had never been seriously mapped, then no one knew anything about the forest cover. Ran tapped hir personal interface and repeated the query. An error message returned. The question of why the Neek planet was left out of the Systems’ planetwide database was intriguing. The Markin sent surveys to all planets in the Charted Systems yearly. Updated census information, economic reports, land mass…it should all have been available.
“There’s an endnote in the database, Captain Ran,” the second called out. “Neek has declined surveyors yearly. A secondary footnote from a previous council notes that technologically delayed systems don’t represent a serious need for mapping, and as such, the issue will not be pressed with Neek and Earth if they continue to decline.”
“So they’ve declined official surveys, but I can’t imagine a scientist or archeologist has never entered some data into the common repository. Check there. Even a little information is better than none at all.”
The second tapped a series of commands, and text began to scroll across hir display. “There is one report in the commons,” xe said. “Neek is a basic humanoid planet. Carbon-based, liquid water, yellow sun. It has four continents, three major provinces, and four moons, all of which are undeveloped. Andal is native to this planet, growing in both wild forests and plantations, and estimates provided by the Neek government put the forested portion of the planet at ten million hectares. There is one major intelligent species with two distinct phenotypes, three genders, and a low occurrence of genetic drift.” Xe tapped several other panels, and a scrolling list overlaid the planet view. “This is the commerce information provided by the Interstellar Trade Route Commission. No major imports or exports except the occasional andal shipment to Cell-Tal. Emigration estimated at one in the last decade; immigration tightly controlled to the point of prohibition.”
“What does that say in the corner there?” Ran asked, pointing to a small, unreadable section of text.
The second enhanced the image. “Tested and confirmed telepathic rating of two on the ten point Carew Scale affects roughly seventy-five percent of the populace.”
Of course they were telepaths. Ran sighed. That complicated matters but did explain why the Markin had never set foot on the planet. “Once we’re in range, get the Neek president on the comm and transfer it to my office. I’d like to avoid the planet as well, if at all possible.”
* * *
An aged Neek filled Ran’s screen, his short hair a mass of orange curls, his green eyes piercing. The andal bench upon which he sat blended with his dark skin, making his form difficult to discern. He eyed Ran, frowning, as he sipped from a delicate wooden mug with andal reliefs carved into the base.
“Captain Ran. I received your communication that you would be visiting, and the Pledge crew has been held, per your request. While the Neek people are, of course, always happy to comply with sheriff investigations, I am still unclear as to why you have chosen to visit us personally. Would you care to elaborate?” The president set the mug down and dabbed at the corners of his mouth with his shirtsleeve. “Perhaps the last wood shipment to Cell-Tal was not satisfactory? I can assure you that what the andal now lacks in heartwood, it makes up for in fiber length and decreased lignin content. Plantation growth does have its drawbacks, but you cannot argue with the increase in cellulose.”
Ran leaned over and entered a code into the computer, transmitting the specifications of hir ship and hir very delicate cargo. “President, I am here today representing the Markin, no
t Cell-Tal. The girl that travels with the Mercy’s Pledge crew is a nonsentient piece of property belonging to the Risalian government. I have been charged with recovering her but not, of course, without due compensation for your planet’s cooperation.”
The president’s eyebrows rose as his attention was drawn to a nearby computer interface where, hopefully, Ran’s transmission was scrolling.
“I see,” the president said slowly, eyes dancing between the computer and Ran. “One hundred thousand diamond rounds makes this a very serious negotiation indeed. I assume you have substantiation of the claim required under Systems law?”
Having expected this, Ran tapped another line of code and sent a second transmission. “For your consideration, President, I’ve sent the genealogical history of the progeny, along with her genetic sequence. If you also require, I can send video of every moment of her life up until she was removed from one of our ships. Amusingly, I can also recite approximately twenty-five percent of her genetic code from memory. She took a long time to make.”
“Make…” the president trailed off as he read through the text. When he’d finished reading, the president ran both hands through his mop of curls. “Your claim appears irrefutable, and under normal circumstances, I would not hesitate to return stolen property, sentient or otherwise. I understand the potential delicacy of your operation, Captain. However, I have some questions that need answers, specifically about her genetic lineage.”
Ran frowned at the unexpected turn of events. The conversation was taking too long, and xe wasn’t entirely certain what a Carew Rating of two got you in terms of telepathy. Could the president see into hir mind from their communication? The last thing Ran needed was extensive knowledge of the Ardulan breeding program in the hands of a backwater planet.
