Ardulum

by J. S. Fields

  Neek quickly took note of the system status report on the monitor and then switched the screen over to navigation. “Engaging engines,” Neek called out crisply.

  Mercy’s Pledge began her slow acceleration from behind the cutter. “Captain Tang wishes us luck and hopes we found what we were after,” Neek added, noting the scrolling message on the side of the screen. She turned to Yorden. “Anything you think we should share with her?”

  Yorden considered for a moment, one hand rubbing his bandaged thigh. “Tell her everyone was dead, but that we did find the information we wanted.”

  Neek relayed the message. “Pledge has reached sufficient speed, Captain. Any idea where you’d like to go?”

  “Callis Wormhole.”

  Neek merely raised an eyebrow.

  “We don’t have much of a choice,” Yorden responded. “We left the Neek fleet searching for us in the Alusian System. Even if we went back there and managed to avoid the Neek, our next jumps would either be to Neek itself, through the Neek Wormhole, or through the Meral Wormhole to Risal.”

  “Hoping to return to Earth, Captain?” Neek asked as she entered directional coordinates into the computer. She wrapped both hands carefully around the ship’s yoke and pulled to the right, causing the Pledge to arc seventeen degrees starboard as it continued to accelerate.

  “Let’s deal with the Callis System first.” Yorden glanced at the computer screen. “Any sign of the new cutter?”

  “No…wait, yes. The cutter just exited the Minoran Wormhole. They’re coming up on our stern, so we won’t be able to see them on the viewscreen.”

  “Time to the wormhole entrance?”

  Neek tapped the upper left corner of the computer screen. “Four minutes, assuming no one starts shooting.” She turned to Yorden. “If they do start shooting, we’re on our own. Captain Tang says the Minoran government is only willing to stick their necks out so far for us. Obfuscated subterfuge is one thing; starting a violent incident that could lead to the dismantling of the Charted Systems is out of the question. Remember—she likes my uncle. She probably doesn’t like me.”

  “I don’t suppose there is any chance Emn might be able to help us out?” Yorden asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Neek shook her head. “Unlikely. I don’t know when she began metamorphosis, but she will be in the chrysalis for weeks, according to the books.” The pilot narrowed her eyes. “If you really want a chance at getting out of this, the Ardulan gunner…”

  Yorden growled, but his response was cut off when a proximity alarm began to beep on the console.

  “The Risalian cutter is gaining fast, Captain. They’d have to be blind to not have spotted us.”

  “Let’s hope the Minorans can keep them talking for a while,” Yorden said, his hands clenching the back of his chair tightly.

  “Yeah, well, they’re not making any effort to communicate with us,” Neek noted dryly. “I suppose we could take that as a good thing.”

  Nicholas dropped his head from the turret opening “Uh, Captain? If they fire on us, do you want me to return fire?”

  Yorden nodded. “We beat a Risalian force once. Who’s to say we can’t again?”

  Nicholas’s voice wavered. “Does it always have to be us or them?”

  “Yes. Neek, time to wormhole?”

  “Another two minutes. The Risalians have docked with the dead cutter and have still made no move to contact us.” Neek tapped the screen. “Captain Tang says that the Risalians have been in minimal contact with the Minorans as well. She says they seem distracted and very eager to board the derelict ship.”

  “An entire cutter is a lot to lose,” the captain responded humorlessly. “They’re in for a big shock when they open the hatch into the cargo hold. I’m hoping it will take them a while to process what happened on the cutter. We only need another minute or so.”

  “I don’t think we’re going to get it, Captain,” Neek said, the tension rising in her voice. “The Risalians are undocking.”

  “Nicholas!” Yorden bellowed. “Get ready!”

  “Their ship is pivoting. It looks like…yes, they’re heading straight for us.” Neek tapped a few additional buttons on the screen, her nervousness causing her fingertips to slip and smear stuk across most of the console.

  “Time?” Yorden asked again.

  “One minute, ten seconds. Our engines are at maximum, but they’re gaining fast.”

  “Will they overtake us before we enter the wormhole?”

  Neek’s jaw clenched. “If not before, then most certainly while we’re inside.”

  “At least they can’t fire inside the wormhole,” Yorden noted. “If we can get inside before they overtake us, we can buy some time.”

  A sudden blast rocked the ship. Neek gripped the console to brace herself as Yorden fell to his knees. She heard the telltale sounds of Nicholas crashing to the floor from his turret chair.

  “We just ran out of time and luck,” Neek said tersely as she yanked the yoke. The Pledge turned abruptly to port, the direction change sending data tablets and other loose objects skittering across the floor. “Best I can do is make a bunch of random movements and hope they don’t manage to connect again.”

  “At least your government’s armor upgrades appear to be working,” Yorden muttered. He pulled himself up from the floor and brushed off the seat of his pants. “Nicholas! If you can get a shot, take it!”

  “Okay, Captain!” the young man called back nervously. The turret creaked as Nicholas rotated it around, trying to get a decent angle on the cutter.

  Another blast shook the Pledge. Expecting it, no one lost their footing. “Still no communication from the cutter,” she called out. “We’re about to enter the wormhole. Fifteen seconds.”

  The opening of the wormhole loomed before them on the viewscreen, spinning as Neek juked the Mercy’s Pledge on a drunken route to the center.

  A third shot racked the Pledge, but this time, the impact sent alarms blaring. Smoke filled the cockpit. Neek smacked her hand hard against the console as the computer screen flickered twice and then went dark. “Visual driving only from here on out.”

  “None of my shots are going anywhere near the cutter!” Nicholas called from above. “If they have an Ardulan onboard…”

  “Count on it,” Neek called back. “Entering the wormhole. Nicholas, kill the laser until we’re out. You know the drill.”

  Mercy’s Pledge entered the wormhole, the Risalian cutter now on top of them. Through the viewscreen, Neek could make out the clean, bottlenose curve to the cutter’s bow. The lights from the ship illuminated their pitch-black surroundings.

  “They’ll shadow us until we exit,” Yorden said. “Then we’ll resume this delight. Nothing we can do in the interim except repairs.”

  Nicholas climbed down the ladder and stared at the mess of tablets and wires on the floor. Neek waved her hand trying to clear the thick smoke, her throat burning when she inhaled too deeply.

  “How long will we be in the wormhole, Neek?” he asked.

  Neek shrugged her shoulders. “No computer, remember? Last time we used the Callis Wormhole, it took about an hour. That’s my best guess.” She glanced at Yorden and then back at the viewscreen. “Noting my current mental state, Captain, I think I’ll take some downtime. I’m going to check on Emn and our Ardulan gunner.”

  Yorden began to speak but then closed his mouth. Instead, he nodded and bent down to retrieve his soldering iron. “Nicholas and I will work on the computer and whatever else the Risalians managed to blow in that last shot. Be back here in forty-five minutes.”

  Neek nodded and glanced at Nicholas. He gave her an encouraging smile as she stepped out of the cockpit and into the connecting hallway.

  The pilot spent several minutes wandering through the hallways and galley, letting her mind drift back to her home planet. She’d recognized most of the guards that had helped them escape. Many were classmates, a few of them her former teachers. How they’d looked
at her—first as a reviled heretic, now as a feared confidant of an Ardulan. The images spun in her mind as Neek sorted them, considered them, dismissed them…

  The only one who hadn’t changed was her former roommate. Neek had noticed her push her way forward in the group until they were an armspan from one another. Her face was nearly the same—all juvenile hopefulness with a touch of something new. She had made Guard after all, which should have made the woman glow with pride, especially upon seeing Neek. They hadn’t spoken, just stared. When they’d brushed past each other, just long enough to escort the crew onto the Pledge, a very different emotion had come through the connection. The stuk had relayed only grief, and a message she hadn’t wanted to hear.

  Your mother is dead.

  It wasn’t malicious. The message was buffered in sympathy, but it didn’t matter. She’d been on-planet when her mother had passed, and she hadn’t been able to get to her. Maybe they’d been dead at the same time. It didn’t matter. Her mother’s death, her own death, the nebulous possibility of a connection between Emn’s electrifying whatever-it-was on the Risalian cutter and her miraculous recovery, and the Heaven Guard…it was just too much. Neek leaned back against the bulkhead just outside the cargo bay, willing the tears to come. Hoping for the relief that crying would bring.

  Nothing came. Instead, her emotions fluttered in the emptiness left by Emn—the blank place in her mind that she had somehow come to rely on. The girl was locked in metamorphosis, their link severed now. Emn would emerge a different being from the child Neek had known. She would be calmer, more focused, if historical texts were to be believed. Her abilities would be heightened—adult versions of what she had toyed with as a first don. She would be an adult. She wouldn’t need Neek. Neek would be alone, again—except this time, the “alone” seemed so much deeper.

  She couldn’t dwell on that, either, because the tightening in her chest was making her lightheaded. Instead, the pilot’s thoughts moved to the Talent problem. Emn already possessed such incredible raw Talent. What limit would there be for this new Emn, the Emn she would have no connection with? Would she still require guidance, or would she choose to strike out on her own, perhaps avenging the wrongs done to her by the Risalians? Could Neek realistically still expect to be associated with a being so formidable? Andal help her, would Emn even remember her? Had Emn caused the destruction on the Risalian ship? Was she in control of her Talents? If not, could anyone control her Talents?

  Her eyes were still dry, but her chest felt tight enough that she was gasping for air. Isolation in the hallway wasn’t helping. Answers were just on the other side of the door. Answers that she likely couldn’t get from Emn in her current state but might be able to get from the Ardulan woman. There were a lot of questions that hadn’t been asked—that she hadn’t wanted to ask—but she could no longer blatantly deny the facts in front of her.

  Neek opened the door to the hold and stepped inside, eyes drawn again to the chrysalis and the adult Ardulan who watched over it. The answers were secreted away within the Ardulan woman, within the cocoon, and Neek was going to get them. It was time to solve the mystery of Ardulum once and for all.

  Chapter 21: Mercy’s Pledge

  All available ships to the planet Oorin. The war has begun.

  —Encrypted communication from within the Charted Systems, November 2nd, 2060 CE

  Neek ran a finger slowly over the chrysalis from one end to the other, feeling the lightly textured, now completely hard surface. She waited again, uncomfortably hopeful, for some sort of feeling—a presence of any form. But there was still no mental connection from Emn, no indication that any part of the child’s mind was still intact. The emptiness hurt more, here, in the company of the chrysalis, than it had in the hallway. She should have been able to feel something, but her mind remained empty of a secondary presence.

  “Guess you know a lot more about this than I do,” she said, looking up at the Ardulan and attempting to smother her unease.

  The woman smiled slightly, and Neek took a moment to survey the wrinkled, yellow dress and look of fatigue on the Ardulan’s face. She briefly considered trying to make a connection to this woman as she had with Emn—a connection that might help quench the feeling of “not-loneliness”—but just as quickly tossed the idea aside. That didn’t seem right, somehow, and the mere thought of it made her uneasy.

  Instead, Neek brought her attention back to the chrysalis, its cottony surface tactilely pleasant under her moist fingertips. What was happening now, inside the fibrous cocoon? Was every synapse being recoded, every bone rebuilt? Would Emn’s memories persist, or would she be like a clean textile when emerged—ready to be printed upon by anyone?

  “She’s okay in there, right? Everything is normal?”

  The Ardulan took a long breath and sat back on her haunches, considering. Slowly, she placed her left palm onto the center of the chrysalis and closed her eyes. A minute passed—then two.

  “Well?” Neek whispered impatiently. “Is she okay? I mean, she’s still Emn, right?”

  The Ardulan’s eyes opened as slowly as they’d closed. She brought her hand back to her side and stared at Neek, her expression unreadable.

  Neek slammed a hand on the floor in exasperation. “I don’t understand! Can’t you just nod yes or no?”

  The Ardulan raised an eyebrow and nodded.

  “Fine. At least you can answer some questions then.” Neek pointed at the woman. “You and Emn, are you the same? Genetically speaking, anyway.”

  The woman tilted her head and considered. Finally, she shook her head up and down, then side to side.

  “Yes and no? Great.” Neek rested her head on her knees. “What about Ardulum itself? Did you come from a moving planet?”

  The woman immediately shook her head.

  “You came from Risal?”

  A nod this time.

  “There are more like you?”

  Another nod.

  “How many? No, wait, sorry. Stupid question you can’t answer.” Neek took a moment to form her next query. “The Risalians call you Ardulans. That name, it means a lot to my people. You saw the way the Neek treated you. Do you think…” she trailed off, not wanting to ask the question. Afraid of the answer. She rallied.

  “Some type of genetic cousin of yours, at the very least, probably visited my planet. I guess my question is—” Neek bit her lip. “—do you think it was your people? That you, and maybe Emn and the others like you, are our gods?”

  The woman continued to stare at Neek. She didn’t blink, didn’t turn her head. She made no indication she had even heard the question.

  Neek smacked her hand on the floor. “Hey! Don’t turn off now. You’ve got to know something. Ardulans are telepathic—Risalians aren’t. Even as slaves you should have passed down some shared oral—erm, mental—history. Give me something. Please.”

  The woman looked to the floor. She brought two fingers to her temple and then shook her head.

  She knew she shouldn’t be mad at the Ardulan. She had no right to be. It would probably get her damned or some other nonsense. But the unfairness of the situation, of sitting with not one but two Ardulans—neither of whom knew any more than she did—was beyond frustrating. The loneliness and events of the past several days overflowed and poisoned her words. “Just…just give me some space, okay?” Neek glanced around the bay and then pointed to the far corner.

  The woman nodded and stood, retreating to the edge of the bay where she sat facing the wall, silent and still.

  Guilt added to her mix of emotions. What Neek would ever dare speak to an Ardulan in such a way? What right did she have to speak to any sentient that way? She should apologize, she knew that, but she didn’t have the energy. She would later, when all this was settled. Instead, she stared at the chrysalis again, a choking sensation rising up in her throat, causing her sounds to come out soft and garbled. She leaned in close to the area she assumed was the head and hoped fervently that this wasn’t the
moment in which Emn’s ears were being rebuilt.

  “So…hey.” Neek stumbled over her words. “I don’t know if you can hear me. Maybe you don’t know who I am anymore, or even who you are. But, well, you’re safe. You should know that.” Neek sighed and tried to collect her thoughts. This had gone a lot smoother in her head than out in the open. “I was, uh, thinking about when you emerge. Maybe you’ll need a guide to help you relearn things. Maybe you’ll need a friend who kind of knows your history. Maybe you just want to find other Ardulans and want to mount an assault on Risal. Ardulum knows you’re certainly capable of it.”

  Neek paused. Images swam through her head. Emn’s destruction of the weapons systems on the Risalian cutter and the Pledge. The cutter of cooked Risalians. Their telepathic communication. The very fact that Emn had managed to make it to metamorphosis without her mother. Her mind wandered back to Neek and her childhood—to the games and stories, the nursery rhymes and worship services. Neek considered all the articles she’d read in The Neek Journal of Science and Technology over the years, the failing of the wild andal on her homeworld, and her people’s technological and creative stagnation. She thought of her paternal uncle, the high priest of Neek, of her almost-placement in the Heaven Guard, and of the life that had been nearly hers.

  The thoughts and dreams swirled through her mind, clashing and interweaving. Neek considered them and then sorted them: relevant, not relevant, plausible, implausible, coincidence, or possible divine irony. When she was done, she lifted her head, her eyes centimeters from the surface of Emn’s cocoon.

  “I just wanted to say…if you need some help when you come out, I would do it. Until you find your feet or whenever. Whatever you need. Whatever you are, whatever you are going to become—Ardulan or not—I want to be there to see it. I want to be there with you when it happens. I hope you’ll let me. I don’t know if I believe in Ardulum, but I do believe in you.”