by J. S. Fields
The Llttrin made four complete rotations before coming to a stop. Neek landed facedown on three dead Mmnnuggls and gasped as the wind was knocked from her again.
“The shielding on this ship is thicker than most,” Emn said as she pulled herself from under an assortment of unrecognizable metal instruments and several Mmnnuggls. Bits of extruded plastic, porous from the cellulose removal, clung to her hair. “That blast was probably from a cutter. The Llttrin can take several more before it breaks apart.”
“Let’s not leave it a chance.” Nicholas had held onto the pod during the blast and was still clinging to the boarding ramp. “I’ll get Neek,” Nicholas said to Emn. “Can you get this ship started?”
“Yes.”
As Nicholas navigated the floor debris to Neek, Emn ran up the boarding ramp into the small ship. The distinctive sound of engines whirring to life began to resound through the hangar. Neek gratefully accepted Nicholas’s assistance, and the two managed to get up the ramp just before another shot hit the Llttrin. Three more shots followed in quick succession. The small ship skidded across the hangar floor before righting itself as Emn closed the ramp and began the ignition sequence.
The floor finally gave way, and Neek held her breath as they entered free fall. Emn engaged the ship’s thrusters just before impact.
“Please tell me we have weapons!” Neek yelled as she gripped the wall paneling in a desperate bid to stay upright.
“Yes. I’m going to make an exit.” Emn turned the ship to face the external wall and fired two quick shots. The panel blew out just as a final volley of laser fire hit the Llttrin. The larger pod broke apart, pieces intermingling with the already thick debris cloud. Emn, both hands firmly placed on the flat black panel in front of her, sent the smaller ship charging into the battle’s engagement zone and away from the wreckage.
Neek recovered her breath and paused long enough to grab another coarse, brown tunic from a pile near the cockpit, shrug into it, and tuck her knife snugly in the folds. She refrained from speaking. She wasn’t certain what might come out of her mouth.
“I’m glad the Mmnnuggls thought to give us a change of clothes in this thing,” Nicholas remarked. “I wonder how they thought we’d fly it?” The young man draped another tunic over Emn’s shoulder. “Here. One for you, too.”
Neek moved to stand behind Emn. The pod’s viewscreen was huge and wrapped around the walls of the cockpit. It gave an excellent view of the battle, which was now weighted heavily in the Risalians’ favor.
Neek considered Emn for a moment as the Ardulan expertly dodged between Risalian ships taking shot after shot at prone Alliance vessels. The little pod had the same dull, green lighting as the pod frigate, but, without the electric halo, Emn looked more like the second don she was instead of the imposing being she had appeared as on the Llttrin. She was more like Nicholas, really, than the omnipotent god Neek had so irrationally feared. A woman, just like her. Nothing more.
Neek took a relaxing breath and moved her focus to the battle outside. “Can you hail any of the Risalian ships?” she asked.
Emn turned her head and smiled. “You’re talking. That’s good. Yes, I can hail a Risalian ship. I can hail all the ships if you want—Risalian and others.”
Nicholas turned to look at Neek and raised his eyebrows. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking we should give a little battle update. See if we can’t talk some sense into our blue protectors.”
Emn snorted at the word “protector” but turned back to the interface and closed her eyes. “The connection is established. Let me know when you want to begin broadcast.”
“Ready?” Neek asked Nicholas.
“Your show,” he responded, holding his hands up. “I’m just a Journey youth, remember? Just here for the ride.”
“Hell of a ride.” Neek responded wryly. The pilot put her hand on Emn’s upper arm. “Ready…” The words died in her throat.
Upon contact, the stuk once again ran from her fingers and onto Emn’s bare skin, forming a bridge. Emn flooded back into her senses, but this wasn’t Emn the child. This presence was adult—competent and confident. It had complex language and goals, and a blinding sense of purpose. It felt…it felt Ardulan. An image of a planet flashed across her mind—an orange planet streaking blue light. She couldn’t tell if it was from imagination or memory, but the vision was too bright and made her want to look away.
Neek blinked and wavered on her feet. The sensory input from Emn blocked her sight, and her breathing became stilted. The stuk thickened. A roaring sound filled her ears, and Neek brought her hands up to cover them, though the gesture proved ineffectual. Removing her fingers from Emn’s arm dissolved the connection, and the presence receded, leaving a wisp of consciousness in the back of Neek’s mind—a consciousness that was both familiar and utterly disconcerting in its aplomb.
Neek saw the smile on Emn’s face when she finally managed to open her eyes. “Hell of a ride,” Emn repeated gently. “Ready to talk to everyone, Neek?”
“Yeah,” Neek responded heavily, again pushing her emotions away for a more convenient time. “Turn it on.” There was silence from Emn for a moment, and then she nodded.
“Greetings, members of the Charted Systems. Myself—a Neek—and a Terran Journey youth have commandeered a Nugel pod—the only pod you see still in operation.” She paused and took a breath. “The Nugels are from outside the Charted Systems, as are the ships with them. They’ve come here to destroy the so-called Ardulans—a race of beings that the Neek people consider pivotal in our culture’s development. Sort of. It’s a long story.”
Again, Neek paused. This time, she sent a questioning look to Nicholas, who gave her a supportive smile. She continued, her voice noticeably less confident. “The Nugels are now gelded—dead in space save for minor life support. They cannot fight back. You slaughter them now as they slaughtered you less than half an hour ago.”
Static erupted through the feed, and all three of the pod’s occupants winced. A voice cut through, their tone stern. “This is Captain Lorn of Risalian Cutter 17. I’m ordering all Risalian forces to continue pursuit. If we eliminate the threat now—if we make a strong showing—the Mmnnuggls will not reenter the Charted Systems. We can end this threat here, today.”
“Can you get communications back, Emn?” Neek whispered urgently.
“I’m trying,” Emn said. Her forehead wrinkled in concentration. “Captain Lorn has three communication Ardulans on hir ship. They know how to do this better than I do.”
“Can’t you talk to them?” Nicholas asked. “I thought you were all telepaths.”
Emn frowned. “I’ve never talked to anyone that way except my mom and Neek, and the healer on the cutter.” She pursed her lips and considered. “I think I can do it. I just have to find them.”
Neek sent reassurance through their new mental connection and cautiously placed a hand back on Emn’s shoulder, noting with surprise as she did so that her fingertips were dry, the stuk uncharacteristically absent. I believe in you.
Emn looked at her. You don’t believe in anything, Neek, she sent back. Not really, anyway.
That stung. Neek pulled her hand away.
“Neek?” Nicholas asked. “You all right?”
“Yes,” she responded, a little too quickly. But her voice hadn’t wavered. That was good.
Neek leveled her gaze at the viewscreen, watching the civilian ships cluster together and hold position well away from the front. It looked like about twenty Risalian ships were still attacking the Alliance fleet. The rest had stopped, as if unsure what their next course of action should be.
With their connection still present, Neek watched with fascination as Emn let her consciousness sink into the interface, into the computer’s main core. Cautiously, so she did not start a chain reaction, Emn pulled a handful of loose crystalline cellulose from the metal matrix of the console and bound it together, releasing a short burst of energy. Just like before,
it coursed through her, charging her skin and causing sparks to flare where her hands touched the interface. She drew on the energy and reached out towards the cutter, searching for someone who could hear her.
Emn’s consciousness brushed past thousands of minds on her way through the battle. Most were closed off and foreign, but on the Risalian cutters and in the skiffs, there were minds that were open and empty. When Emn hit Cutter 17, it was the same. She found six Ardulan minds onboard, all empty. Neek felt Emn’s hesitation before Emn drew another surge of energy from the ship and mentally yelled as loudly as she could to every mind she could contact.
Stop it! Stop fighting! Stop helping the Risalians!
The words echoed back into their minds, almost as if they had hit the inside of the empty skulls and ricocheted. Emn pulled out another ball of energy, preparing to try again, when Neek put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.
Emn, wait.
Emn brought herself out of the computer far enough to visually take in what was happening. In an almost complete duplication of the Alliance force, the Risalian ships had stopped dead. Skiffs in midpass cut their engines and allowed the momentum to continue carrying them across the battlefield. Pilots made no move to steer and three of the skiffs collided with a frigate pod. The resulting explosion took out all four ships. Debris haloed from the engagement zone and spun slowly outwards, disappearing into space. Afterwards, all was still.
Nicholas let out a long breath. “Whatever you did worked. Nice job.”
Neek nodded and turned to Emn, who was sagging into the interface. Unsure of what exactly had transpired, Neek cautiously reached out. “Can you open the communication again? We should finish the conversation with the Risalians.”
Their minds were still spooled tightly together. Neek watched as Emn again searched for the empty minds, ready to send another string of commands. Where before there had been hundreds of minds, now there seemed only half that. Confused, Emn reached out again and found even fewer. With growing frustration, she picked a Risalian cutter at random and tried to make a solid connection to just one Ardulan, the lead gunner. Emn slipped into the gunner’s mind, and the woman acknowledged Emn briefly with a flicker of thought before whatever small consciousness she had disappeared. Emn did not think to pull away, so both she and Neek watched through the Ardulan’s eyes as her vision blurred and the ground sped towards her—before everything went dark.
Realization hit. A moment later, Emn’s eyelids flew open and her mouth dropped. She slumped to her knees, breaking her connection to the interface.
“They’re dying!” Emn yelled. She balled her hands into fists and punched both into the floor. “I told them to stop letting the Risalians use them, and they’re killing themselves! Just stopping their hearts and…and…”
Neek knelt beside Emn and wrapped one arm around the Ardulan’s shaking form, unsure whether she was comforting herself or Emn. A blistering emptiness passed through their connection before Emn skillfully tempered her presence.
Nicholas was next to them a moment later. “Can you tell them to stop?” he asked, his voice panicked. “God, it’s like we stop one bloodbath and another begins!”
“Can’t,” Emn whispered. She rested her head against Neek’s shoulder and closed her eyes. “They’re all dead. All of them. The war is over. I’m the only one left alive.”
Chapter 28: Mmnnuggl Pod
The Markin are dead. The Ardulans are dead. The Mmnnuggl fleet retreated. The war is over. There were no victors.
—Transmission from Captain Enoch to the Markin Training Center, November 18th, 2060 CE
Neek sat alone in the captain’s berth of the Mmnnuggl pod and counted back in her mind. It was five days since the battle at Oorin ended. Five days since the Alliance withdrew from the Charted Systems. Three days since Risal installed a new set of Markin. One day since the Risalians released a priority network announcement that they were discontinuing the Ardulan program and required civilian volunteers to help run sheriff operations.
Neek let out a long breath and flopped onto a thick, round pillow, staring at the ceiling. She knew Emn was in the cockpit with the interface and assumed Nicholas was there, too. She should have been there with them, but there was an added awkwardness now to the whole situation. She was a pilot, a good one, but she couldn’t fly the ship—it required a mental link that she was incapable of sustaining. That left her feeling useless, and she was unsure how to, or if she should, discuss the issue with Nicholas and Emn. They were each under their own unique stressors, and Neek didn’t want to add to them.
Not that she was in a great place mentally, either. The Systems were in disarray and communication lines were chaotic. It had been impossible to get a call through to her homeworld to check on her family. Yorden, the only person she’d been able to call a friend for the past decade, was dead. Her home, her real home on the Pledge, was gone. And now…now the only people left that she could remotely call friends were a Journey youth and…and Emn.
It was even harder, now, to be around her. Neek tried not to care anymore about the god thing, the Ardulan thing, but it was a different Emn that piloted the stolen pod. This Emn was confident. Undaunted. She was no longer haunted by memories of her mother or of the Risalians. She interacted with Nicholas with ease, smiled and laughed at jokes, and discussed the financial ramifications of the war with an analytical mind.
Emn also wanted something from Neek. The pilot could see it in the way Emn looked at her with patient eyes and subtle nods—except Neek couldn’t begin to imagine what Emn could need from her. The emotions in the Ardulan’s mind were complex now—mature—and Neek was having a hard time making sense of them, or making sense of anything, really, including her place in the postwar Systems or the Mmnnuggl pod itself.
Neek’s mind wandered as she stared at the ceiling, pale green lighting doing nothing for her mood. Emn’s markings and abilities were unlike anything ever documented on Neek. Emn was, in a way, so much more than any Ardulan Neek had ever read about. She was also was still here, still on the ship. She hadn’t left after the battle or made any comments about parting company. She wanted to be with them, it seemed—with Nicholas and Neek. How Neek would manage an extended voyage with an Ardulan and a Journey youth remained to be seen, if indeed they did all decide to stay together.
A smile played at the corners of Neek’s mouth. An Ardulan for a crew member. It was a crazy idea. Whether a potential construct of modified cells, the product of directed breeding, the descendant of an ancient species, or whatever Emn was, it meant Ardulum—the planet—had a possibility of existing. That was an entertaining thought.
There was a soft tap at Neek’s door. She sat up and crossed her legs on the pillow, irritated at the interruption. “I don’t really feel like company,” she called out. “Just tell me when we get to Craston so we can refuel.”
The door opened, and Emn stood in the doorway, barefoot. Two days ago, they’d stopped briefly on Baltec to purchase items for the ship, including clothing, with money borrowed from one of Yorden’s contacts. It had been hard to find anything that fit. The selections were limited due to the wormhole and supply line disruptions, and the beings that flitted through the markets had been wary and unsure of their future. Emn stepped into the small room, wearing a gray, strapped dress that stopped just above her knees. Neek was glad they’d found something to fit her, especially something that fit well. The gray drew attention away from her translucent skin and onto the fine, black veins, giving the Ardulan the look of a tattooed Terran.
“We’re exiting the Minoran Wormhole. I put the ship on auto. A chime will sound when we enter Craston’s orbit.” Emn took a tentative step closer. “I’d really like to talk to you, if you don’t mind.”
The intensity of Emn’s gaze sent shivers down Neek’s spine. Did Ardulans make eye contact? She couldn’t remember if any of the texts spoke about it. Was she supposed to make contact back? What was the protocol for addressing a second don? It was th
e most asinine debate she had ever had with herself.
“I guess,” Neek responded in a noncommittal tone, realizing that Emn was far less likely to be aware of protocol than she was. Neek’s chances of offending the young woman were small.
She gestured to a pillow sitting against the near wall. Emn smiled slightly, but sat next to Neek on her pillow instead. Neek promptly scooted as far away as she could get. It was one thing to not know protocol. It was another to sit right next to a maybe-god you maybe believed in.
“I make you uncomfortable,” Emn commented. She stared at Neek, eyes unblinking. Neek thought her tone sounded a little hurt.
“That’s not really new,” the pilot responded. She ran a hand through her loose hair, moving the reddish-blonde strands away from her face. Emn watched the movement and then copied it, her own hand gliding smoothly through the straight, dark hair that reached just past her shoulders.
The two were silent for several minutes. Emn stared at Neek, who tried to find anything in the small room to look at besides the other woman.
It was Emn who broke the silence. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Neek shrugged. “It’s all right. I’ll get over it.”
Emn looked away and toyed with the hem on her dress. “I wanted to tell you that I appreciate everything you did for me. You, Yorden, Nicholas—I would have died without you.” Emn paused and looked back to Neek for a response. Neek shrugged again.
“I wanted to tell you, too,” Emn continued, her voice softer, “that while I was in metamorphosis…I could hear things. I couldn’t see, but I could hear through the casing. I heard what you said about wanting to be with me, to see what I’d become.”
“I said I believed in you, too,” Neek retorted, more harshly than she intended. “But I seem to recall you telling me that I don’t really believe in anything.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, Neek. I meant…you don’t believe in your home religion. I don’t mind that. But I can feel you, even when we’re not connected by touch. Your presence to me is just as strong as any Ardulan’s. Why not believe in our connection or your friendship with Nicholas?” Emn covered Neek’s hand with her own. “No one is asking you to reconcile a lifetime of religious indoctrination with the events of the past week.”
