Across a Sea of Stars

by Michael E. Gonzales

  He drew closer to the apparition…and recognized it now as the same phantom he and Tattie had seen that day Caval Du Mal died. A twinge of fear gripped him. Was this ghost here for him, now? The fear of death suddenly felt like an antiquated notion.

  He looked into what should have been a face, and saw only mist. "If you've come to scare me, I no longer fear. If you've come to kill me, I welcome you—and bid you make haste and end my torment."

  The thing held something up before him, it seemed a familiar thing, and he felt he should know it. It was a simple water bladder, but he remembered some significance attached to it. His head began to hurt as he tried to remember.

  The specter pulled the stopper from the spout and pointed it at him. Quickly he became trapped in a giant whirlpool that sucked him down into the bladder. He was a man again, flailing his arms and legs as he fell. He was plunged into a sea of some dark liquid. He swam until he reached the surface and gasped for air. He treaded water as best he could, and searched for some firm footing, but there was none, and in the dim light that fell from the spout above, there was little to see save tall, black waves.

  An unnatural motion caught his eye. The black liquid to his right began to churn and boil, then it burst upward, and a giant geyser shot high into the air. From the snarling waters, sprang a monstrous female hand. It hung above his head a moment, then fell toward him and struck the surface only a meter away, causing Cris to rise on the tidal surge. Then from below, he felt the huge fingers grasp his legs and pull him under. Down he went, deeper and deeper.

  He felt the pressure build and push against his eardrums, and then on his chest. He held his breath as long as he could; his lungs burned. He knew it was over; there was no chance of his escaping and reaching air. His brain was starting to fade. He opened his mouth. The gases escaped his lungs and the inky liquid took its place. It poured down his throat into his stomach. Darkness gripped his brain, his pain faded, and he felt his mind evaporate.

  Chapter 32

  A Desperate Notion

  A few days after their return to the city, Tattie, Tarnus, and Capek were sitting in Tarnus's room, sharing a meal. Capek had decided that he should be present at the table because, normally, a great deal of conversation took place there. He would also set out platters, bowls, and cutlery, then emulate eating. He thought this would make the others feel more comfortable than him just sitting there observing. His family, as families do, tolerated his whims.

  Tonight, everyone was quiet. The reason was a quarrel earlier between Tattie and Tarnus. Tattie was losing weight, and not sleeping. Tarnus warned that she would make herself ill. Tattie said she did not care. Tarnus accused her of a callous disregard for the rest of her family. Now, they were in this quiet mode.

  None of this was lost on Capek. "Excuse me," he said to Tattie, "but when did you find Cris's bladder of Geldneth Nordthok?"

  "What? I've found no such thing," Tattie replied, the anger from the previous hour returning.

  "I saw it in your bedroom Tattie, as I was straightening up this morning. It was neatly placed upon your pillow."

  "How did it get there?" Tattie was incredulous and displaying more enthusiasm than she had since erecting the stones.

  "I naturally assumed you had placed it there. I will go get it for my orbrena." Capek left the table.

  "I did not find it—Uncle Tarnus?"

  "Nor I, child. Perhaps some good citizen—"

  "Found it and broke into our rooms to return it? Uncle, please!"

  "I am at a complete loss to explain it," Tarnus said, hammering his cup down and rising quickly to his feet.

  "Uncle, please sit down."

  "First, the elixir is stolen from us, then returned with equal mystery, outrageous! What if some agent of the Mal had wished to do us injury? I will have a word with the chief of security here this hour!"

  "No, Uncle—I don't think that is necessary."

  "And why not?"

  "The elixir was needed, borrowed, and returned." Tattie just stared off into space as she spoke these words.

  "Had a person in need but have asked, we would have helped." Tarnus was still angry, but had noted the ethereal look in Tattie's eyes.

  Capek returned with the bladder and offered it to Tattie, who accepted it reverently.

  "Uncle—I think they did ask. I just did not remember."

  "You, who can recall her second birthday, forgot something like that?"

  "I believe the memory was removed, and even now I am not supposed to have remembered."

  "Who borrowed it from you, child?"

  "I don't know—but somehow, this tells me there is hope."

  Rather than assume her regular place atop the tower to watch the universe spin overhead, Tattie, this night, at Tarnus and Capek's insistence, drank a little Geldneth Nordthok and went to bed.

  The curtains to her window were open. She turned the light out and went to look outside. With all danger passed, the city was brightly illuminated. Beyond the city, Tattie could see the plain of the crater within which Emer Alda sat, and far off, the wall of the crater's rim. It reminded her of the plain of Dort and the hill of Kreneo upon which sat the fortress of Kurat Vara.

  She recalled the room Capek and Tarnus prepared for her and Cris. She remembered the night spent there in Cris's arms. She suddenly felt hollow, and very old. She took another sip of Geldneth Nordthok and returned to bed.

  ○O○

  The night of Cris's dream, four representatives from the International Interplanetary Exploration Agency, the IIEA, arrived from Earth. These were very serious, humorless men, and each held the highest clearance possible. Nothing in JILL would be denied them. Two of them seemed to be admin types; the other two, Misters Smith and Brown, were professional interrogators. They were so good they considered torture of any kind amateurish and entirely unprofessional.

  Cris had flummoxed the MI officers for the last two weeks in that his story remained consistent, and left them no closer to the truth they were seeking.

  The evidence of the remains of the Rapna aside, neither Smith nor Brown believed that the captain had been one hundred fifty million light years away on another inhabited world for the last two months. There had to be a more rational, perhaps a more sinister, explanation. This craft the subject referred to as a Rapna must be the invention of another nation, one perhaps hostile to the desires of the IIEA.

  The time was 08:15, Captain Salazar should have arrived at 08:00, it was not his habit to be late, and indeed, despite his injuries, he was usually early for his sessions with Major Gillespie and Captain Franklin.

  Brown contacted Cris's nurse on his COMde. "Where's the subject?"

  "He just walked out of his room."

  "Did you say, walked?"

  "Affirmative."

  Brown turned to Major Gillespie. "I thought you said he was—"

  Just then, Cris came strolling into the room and took his usual seat. His face was normal, his cuts gone, even the scars that had started to form were gone. His shoulder must have been healed; he had gotten into his flight suit, which the pain had prevented him from doing just yesterday. The brace was off his leg, and he walked without a limp.

  "Good morning, Captain," said Mr. Smith. "Feeling better?"

  "Yes, quite a bit, thanks. How are you?"

  "How about your ribs? I saw the X-rays, they were in pretty bad shape."

  Cris slapped his flanks and took a deep breath. "Never better."

  Mr. Smith nodded at the two MI officers, who then left the room. Smith and Brown then sat across from Cris and became very serious. "Captain, how do you account for what appears to be a miraculous recovery?" Brown asked.

  "So, we're gonna skip the formalities and get right to it, eh?" Cris asked.

  "I'm Mr. Brown, this is—"

  "Let me guess—Mr. Smith?"

  "Let's talk about your recovery."

  "If you guys thought that I was crazy after reading my file, you're going to love this." Cris
related his dream to his inquisitors. When he had finished, Mr. Smith looked up at the cylindrical sensor array in the corner. "Ava, ask Doctor Rousseau to come here," he said.

  "Captain," Mr. Brown said leaning over the table, "you're going to submit to another complete physical and advanced blood work, today."

  "Fortunately, my calendar for today is empty."

  Doctor Rousseau arrived at the door, stuck his head in and, wiggling his finger, said, "Come along, Cris. I'm sure we can find a place on you we've not poked a hole in already."

  Cris, stood to go with the doctor, as he did, the doctor pushed the door open and stepped into the room, his mouth agape. "Cris—where's your brace, your bandages? Let me see your hand, your fingers—what the hell happened?"

  Cris glanced at Smith and Brown, then turned to the doctor and said, "Come on, Doc, I'll tell you all about it on the way."

  ○O○

  Brown sat down and rubbed his eyes.

  "Geld net north hook he called it," Smith said.

  "He mentioned it in his original report, in the debriefing and in follow up interviews with MI," Brown observed.

  "Sorgenias, video-canicas, Thau-materhorns—"

  "Thaumatergon."

  "Whatever. This guy learned Latin inside of two months, and used it to generate an entire language in his head; he's smarter than we're giving him credit for. Let me see the results of his psych eval again, will ya?"

  ○O○

  Cris walked alongside Doctor Rousseau, who was observing his gait and his stride.

  "You have no pain associated with walking?"

  "None."

  "No pain breathing?"

  "Nope."

  "Let me see you make a fist with your injured hand."

  Cris made a fist several times.

  "No pain?" the doctor asked.

  "No pain."

  "How is this possible?"

  "Well, Doc, I'll give you the story in a nutshell, there's this elixir— "

  As Cris and the doctor rounded the corner into the examination section, Cris's gaze fell on several familiar faces. There stood his driver, Specialist "Ives" Thibodaux, Master Sergeant "Chuck" Alistair, and of course, Major Kathy Selina.

  "There are a few people here to see you, Captain. You and I will begin in a few minutes. I'll be in exam four," the doctor said.

  Cris walked up to the group and managed a weak smile. "Hey, long time no see."

  Major Selina spoke first. "Cris, word of your return spread like an oxygen fire in here. It was like learning you were back from the dead. When you were quarantined, these two threatened a mutiny if they weren't allowed in to see you."

  "Thanks for coming, guys," Cris said. "Say, where's Jake—Captain Miller?"

  Everyone looked at Major Selina. "I'm sorry, Cris, but Cap—Jake Miller was killed two weeks ago confirming the expansion of the singularity."

  Cris's face revealed a pain, as if he'd been shot. He backed up to a desk and grabbed its edge, and just stared straight ahead.

  A long moment passed, then Cris turned and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, everyone. I think my close association with death is starting to weigh on me. Kathy, can I send a note to Jake's folks?"

  "I'm sorry Cris, you're quarantined. But—write something and I will ensure they get it, eventually."

  "Okay, sure." Cris stood, then walked over to Ives and held out his hand. "How have you been, my friend?"

  Ives took his hand. "Good to have you back, sir."

  Cris noticed the warmth in Ives's hand. "Ives, I have become very good friends with a relative of yours."

  "Sir?"

  "Where I've been there are a plethora of robots in use. One we called Capek. Your advantages over him are many, given your human memory and the biological foundation of your brain. Capek's brain was manufactured from the ground up. He's so advanced, though, that he's conscious."

  "He's self-aware?"

  "Yes, very much so. I owe my life to him many times over. And I miss him a great deal."

  "Karel Capek, the man who coined the term ‘robot,’ I take it you came up with that name, sir?”

  "Yeah. He looks like a stereotypical robot, not nearly as good looking as you."

  Ives grinned broadly just as the COMde on his belt went off. He tapped his temple and listened a second, then returned to Cris. "I'm sorry sir, I have to go. I've been assigned to another officer who looks at me as one might look at a refrigerator."

  "What's his name?"

  "Sir?"

  "His name?"

  "First Lieutenant Michael Wagoner, sir."

  "Okay, Ives. You take care of yourself."

  "You too, sir." They shook hands again, and Ives was off.

  Cris turned to Major Selina. "Kathy, can you either straighten this Wagoner out, or reassign Ives to someone with a brain?"

  "Sure, Cris."

  Cris then turned to Chuck and extended his hand. "Buddy, there have been several times in the past several weeks when I wished I'd had you on my team."

  "Cris, they are telling everyone that you've gone nuts."

  "They're right Chuck; by your standards I'm bonkers. What's more, I want desperately to go back.”

  "Back where?"

  Cris shot the major a glance. She nodded and turned to address Chuck. "Everything Cris is about to tell you is classified Crypto, a level above top secret, do you understand?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "In here, Cris." The doctor called him into an adjoining room. All three went in with the doctor, who asked Cris to remove the top of his flight suit so he could gain access to a vein in his arm. The doctor had a small implement in his hand with a thin needle on one end. This device was connected wirelessly to a computer with the words Phlebotomizer 2100 written across the top. The doctor inserted the needle into Cris's arm.

  During the blood test, Cris presented a very condensed account of what had transpired after he vanished into the crater.

  "So you see, I left a universe where peace was breaking out all over, and I left the greatest treasure a man can find in this or any universe."

  "You discovered the treasure under that big tree?"

  "No, Chuck—I discovered love. I learned how empty my life had been up to that moment. And I learned that if you live your life focused on one selfish goal, you become blind to all beauty. Unfortunately, this knowledge is useless here, because we're all blind to our own ambitions, and love can be killed with a judge's decision and a piece of paper or a simple pill. In our world, I am now an anachronism, and without a purpose. Now I know how Capek felt."

  "You fell in love with a girl a million-and-a-half light years away?"

  "Chuck—I fell in love with a woman who, though now on the other side of the galaxy, will live forever inside of me."

  "Man—some kind of change has come over you," Chuck said. "And no, I don't think you're crazy. I was in love with Cynthia, my wife—ex-wife. We both had our ambitions and, like you said, it killed our marriage. Back then, I was like you are now. Hell, I even wrote her poetry."

  "Captain," the doctor spoke up, "I have your results here."

  "One moment, Doc. Chuck, you were both blinded by your ambitions. For all you two will ever know, you were meant to be."

  Chuck just stood, looking into Cris's eyes.

  "Captain Salazar, what was it you said you drank?" the doctor interrupted.

  "The elixir of Geldneth Nordthok."

  "What's in it?"

  "I have no idea, Doc."

  "The analysis of your blood shows a high level of several unknown elements and unrecognizable compounds. I've isolated a mineral that does not exist on either the Earth or the Moon. When I give this information to Frick and Frack in the black suits they will become blithering idiots. They want information that will paint you a liar, not something that will reinforce your story or add to the mystery."

  "Sorry, Doc. But—they have me to play with…it's not your fault."

  "Major, Sergeant," the doctor said, "I w
ill require the captain to disrobe in order to conduct the remainder of my examination, so if you don't mind—"

  "I'll see you later, Cris," the major said as she left.

  Chuck stuck out his hand. "I may not get that privilege Cris, so just in case, you stay loose and check your six."

  "Thanks, buddy."

  The medical examination took the best part of the rest of the day. Misters Smith and Brown questioned Cris until 19:30. At that point, Cris rose and stretched. "Okay, boys. That's enough for today."

  "Not hardly," said Mr. Smith.

  "Let me clue you in on a fact you're overlooking, my friend," Cris leaned across the table and stared a hole into Smith's eyes. "I have fought twice in Oceania, and I've just left a war where atrocities were the order of the day. I've had a long day, and my PTSD is sore, so I'm going to put it to bed before I hurt someone." He noticed Mr. Brown reach under his coat, presumably for a gun. "If you are thinking of shooting me, I wish you would do it fast and aim right between my eyes. That will get me the hell out of here that much quicker."

  Cris turned and headed for the door. He stopped in the doorway, and turned to face Mr. Brown saying, "Last chance. No? Okay, listen close, bureaucrats—never threaten me with a weapon again." Cris left and returned to his quarters.

  His dreams were always of Tattie and Nazer now. Even when he was awake, there were sounds, sights, and smells that would whisk him away, if only for a split second to other worlds and other times. His agony always returned upon his wakening to this—reality.

  The doctors began to worry as apathy and neglect became key words used to describe his attitude and moral. He preferred to sleep, because when he was asleep, he was with Tattie. Every passing day took Cris farther and farther away from reality, and himself. His weight loss was becoming alarming.

  ○O○

  "Major Selina," Doctor Rousseau addressed the major in the daily status meeting. "I think the captain is critical enough to warrant his transfer back to Earth."

  "Doctor, I'm told that JILL's medical facilities rival anything on Earth. What can a Terran hospital offer that we can't?"