by K S Augustin
Momentarily, she thought of trying to source a weapon – there had to be one somewhere – and forcing the pilots to turn around and…and…
Moon had thought space was small, that she and Srin would be easy to find. They had escaped from sector to sector with the breath of Republic forces hot on the back of their necks. Or so she thought. But now, as she sat and concocted a wild plan to find the Unfinished Tale, Moon realised exactly how big space really was. Light travelled almost three hundred thousand metres in one second. At half-light speed, that still came to one hundred and fifty thousand metres a second. And the Grey Vapour was already two days (2 x 24 hours x 60 minutes x 60 seconds x 150,000 metres) away from the Unfinished Tale, not taking into account the Tale’s own velocity and the exponential effect crease-hopping had on distance.
She started thinking of the expanding volume of space she would need to traverse, the kind of search algorithm to use, the likelihood of discovery. Fuel consumption, oxygen consumption, food and water. Spheres of the Tale’s potential position, expanding through space like bubbles, with her and the Grey Vapour trying blindly to limp after them.
“I can’t do it,” she finally admitted to herself. “I’m sorry Srin, but I don’t even know where to begin.”
When Needann walked into the cabin, hours later, Moon was still hunched over in abject misery. Moon lifted her gaze only by a few millimetres and watched Needann’s booted feet hesitate then move to her side of the cabin.
“You didn’t have your evening meal,” the alien said.
“I’m not hungry.” Moon’s voice was sullen, discouraging further comment. Unfortunately, she wasn’t speaking with a human, who might have taken the hint and left her in peace.
There was a soft whoosh as Needann sat on her bunk.
Silence.
“I came from the Analine sector,” Needann said. “It was very poor but crease-rich. Prosperity used to fall like flakes of platinum from all the ships passing through.”
Moon kept her head down. She didn’t want to listen – she wanted to wallow in her misery – but Needann’s voice was insistent.
“But the flakes could only be caught by those with the knowledge and resources. My family had neither. I knew, even as a youngling, that the only way to survive was to leave Analine and move closer to Tor. I was highly educated but, for a non-human, that counts for little in the Republic. I was reduced to menial work in the shipyards and processing plants. I was popular because I’m a very quick worker but, because of my species, I knew I would never be promoted.
“Then I read about a job. It was on the ice-planet of Kahlex. A human was building a continent-sized resort. They needed workers and staff very quickly. I applied for a position working with the holiday-makers.”
Moon couldn’t help herself. She looked up.
“I passed all the aptitude tests,” Needann continued, meeting her gaze, “but failed the final interview. I was ‘too alien-looking’, I was told. I found this hard to digest. The climate on Kahlex suited me as I come from a cool planet. For aliens, the conditions were good. I could even begin saving some money. I started to ask questions. What did this mean, ‘too alien-looking’, and I found the answer.
“It seems that humans like the exotic element, but not when it’s too exotic. It wasn’t my height or my facial characteristics. It was the fact that I had four arms.”
Moon frowned. “You….”
Of course. That’s why Needann looked out of proportion, as if someone had partially melted then stretched her like a thick tube of polymer. Then the import of her observation hit her.
“You didn’t?” Moon asked in horror.
Needann met Moon’s appalled gaze calmly.
“I could either get the job on Kahlex and have money to send to my family, or I could continue living on the edge of starvation like them. The surgery,” Needann continued, “was painful and expensive, but the doctor was skilled. I began working at Kahlex six months later.”
“Needann,” Moon commented, shaking her head, “I don’t know what to say.”
“Then say nothing. Just listen.
“Because of my act of self-mutilation, I was in a position that an alien such as myself rarely achieved. I was surrounded by humans. As an alien, I was invisible. I wove between them. I learnt ingel and watched the way you humans move and act. I knew that my existence meant nothing to you because I was little more than a decoration in the resort, a way of being exotic without challenging your preconceptions.
“We had some very rich people at Kahlex and, being an alien, they too regarded me as an imbecile. But whenever they gave advice to their friends, I was there. I listened. And acted. Within a decade, I had built up enough assets to be independent, but had no outlet for my spare time. I could liberate my family, but that was only one family in a galaxy of inequity.”
“And so you started a rebel network?”
“Yes. It gave me focus and motivation. It still does. But,” Needann stressed, holding her gaze, “none of this would have happened if I hadn’t made the decision to damage myself.”
“At least the decision was yours to make,” Moon countered bitterly but knew, deep inside, that her objection wasn’t a fair one. Srin had already come to the same conclusion, to sacrifice part of them – himself – in order to give her a life. But that didn’t mean she had to be happy about it.
“You are correct,” Needann said, and that made Moon feel even worse, but she suppressed her sympathy. “I made the decision of my own volition.”
“And,” Moon added, shaking her head, “I’m not going to start a damn rebel network. I’m not going to bring down the Republic. All I wanted was to find a place to live.”
“The galaxy doesn’t always give us what we want.”
“Don’t give me that lucky coin fortune!” Moon shot back. “Don’t you dare tell me that the bloody galaxy doesn’t give me what I want, it gives me what I need. That’s just feel-good bullshit.”
The last word came out on a sob and Moon clamped her mouth shut before she could betray more emotion.
Silence.
“Are you sure you don’t want any food?”
“I’m sure,” Moon answered, through gritted teeth.
“I need to check our route with the pilot. I will be back in one hour.”
Needann rose from the low bunk and walked out the door. Some part of Moon recognised this as an unusually charitable gesture on the alien’s part, giving her some privacy with her grief, but all Moon could think about was the timing. Why extend charity now when Needann wouldn’t even attempt to contact the Unfinished Tale?
And what was Kad doing, following his own circuitous path to the rebels’ new rendezvous point? Would their route take them close to a planet or a station with advanced medical facilities? And, if it did, would Srin accept the help offered?
That thought kept Moon restless for the next two weeks.
Chapter Twenty-four
Needann called their new destination Excalibur Beta and didn’t appear to see the irony in the name. It was already a bustling nexus of activity within the hollowed-out core of an asteroid by the time the Grey Vapour docked, and Moon was told that this was where the bulk of the original Excalibur personnel had been transferred when the news of traitor Dokan’s defection had first surfaced.
Moon was thankful for the additional space because she spent most of her waking time pacing the narrow twisty passages of E-Beta and asking if there was any word from the Unfinished Tale. She had been hoping that the Tale would arrive before Needann’s ship, but the Vapour was the first of the last wave of vessels to dock and all Moon could do was wait. And pace.
When Kad’s ship was eventually picked up by E-Beta’s sensors, almost four weeks had elapsed. Needann, although calm and aloof during the previous month, graciously informed Moon that she would be summoned to Needann’s office the moment the Unfinished Tale docked, although Moon suspected that Needann did that more to circumvent Moon driving the technical sta
ff crazy than out of any sense of goodwill.
The call eventually came through in the afternoon, subterranean asteroid time, and Moon half-ran, careering off the rough walls and stumbling a few times on the uneven ground before she reached Needann’s office. She burst through the door without even pausing to press the buzzer and skidded to a halt, breathing heavily as she scanned the scene in front of her.
Needann was Needann, her tall mutilated figure standing, as usual, but this time in front of her bank of clearboards instead of behind them. Two metres away, Kad stood. He had turned at the sound of Moon’s entrance, his expression a mixture of stoicism, sadness and…surely not! Surely that wasn’t guilt on his face?
“Where’s Srin?” she demanded.
Kad opened his mouth. “Moon….”
“Did you take him to the medical bay? Did you, Kad? Is that where he is now? In the medical bay?”
Say yes, say yes, damn you!
“Moon….”
“Dammit, just answer me, Kad Minslok, or I’ll swear I’ll wring your neck like I promised to on Marentim.”
“Moon….”
“Flerovs is dead, Thadin,” Needann told her, without expression.
Moon took a jerky step forward. “No, that can’t be true.” Her voice rose as she stepped forward again. “It can’t be true because you wouldn’t have let him die, Kad. Not Srin. Not after knowing everything we’d been through.”
“Moon…,” he paused, and the sorrow in his face pulled his mouth down and dulled the blue of his eyes, “I’m sorry.”
Moon shook her head. “No.”
“We didn’t find out the situation – that we’d accidentally taken the wrong bag – until we were almost at the Barrens.”
“No.”
“There are no stations in that part of space, Moon, and we were too far away from the nearest crease.”
“You’re lying.”
“My medic tried everything he could, but he admitted that he was probably missing some of the medicine that you used.” Kad started shaking his head. “Srin wanted to die, but I wouldn’t let him, Moon. My medic and I worked night and day. What we managed to put together helped for a little while, but….”
“What took you so long to arrive, Minslok?” Needann asked.
Kad glanced at her quickly. “We hit two Republic sweep patrols on the way. It was sheer bad luck that the Space Fleet were holding exercises near a crease we had planned to use. Our detour put us weeks behind schedule.”
“Where’s Srin now?” Moon’s voice wavered with choked emotion.
“He…his last wish was to be shot into the nearest sun. That’s what we did.”
Moon strode up to her old research partner. Swinging her arm, she slapped him sharply across the face. The report of her strike echoed around the room but nobody moved. Her eyes filling with tears, Moon stared Kad in the face, ignoring the traces of red that were the imprints of her fingers on his cheek. “You had no right.”
“Moon, it was what he wanted.”
“You had no right to deny me my last moments with him.”
“Moon, he was dead!”
“Dammit, Kad, I loved him!”
She stumbled forward and felt herself being gently engulfed within a pair of masculine arms. Grabbing the front of his shirt, she cried into Kad’s chest, both their bodies jerking with the strength of the sobs that overwhelmed her.
“Moon,” he whispered into her hair, “I’m sorry. If there had been another way, you know I would have taken it.”
He raised his voice. “Needann, I think I should see Moon to her quarters.”
“Yes. We will talk later.”
Tenderly, as if guiding a child, Kad took one of Moon’s hands in his and led her out of the office.
“He can’t be dead,” she repeated brokenly.
“He wanted it that way,” Kad said. “He told me.”
It was true, then. There were only two people who had known those wishes – her…and Srin himself. And Kad would only have known of them if Srin had shared them with him. Moon felt another wave of grief rising up from her chest, squeezing it tight with sorrow, and she swallowed convulsively in an effort to control it.
“Did…did he say anything?”
“What do you expect me to tell you, Moon? That he loved you beyond life? You knew that. That he was grateful for the slice of time you had together, time that he could finally remember?”
They reached her temporary quarters and Kad turned her around to face him, his intense blue gaze boring into her. “He was an exceptional man, Moon. I can see why you fell in love with him. I’m only sorry I didn’t get the chance to be as good a friend to him as well. But what he did, he did – not only for you – but for the entire galaxy. That’s something about him I’ll never forget.”
Moon waited until the door of her quarters was securely shut behind her before she gave in to her heart-rending grief. She stayed, locked in her room, for two days and didn’t eat a thing.
Kad watched Moon as she looked out of the tall paned-glass windows. He saw her concentrate on the large leaves of amber, orange and red that an errant wind picked up and hurled at figures hurrying across the quadrangle. Refocusing his view slightly, he looked beyond the shedding trees, to an uneven skyline of low buildings marked out along the horizon, their edges bleeding into a pale sky bright with sunlight. It was a pleasant place to be. He hoped she liked it.
She shifted in her chair as the institute’s head approached them, his smile welcoming.
“I’m sure you’ll be very happy here, Dr. Skylark. While not a Republic facility, we are still proud of everything we’ve managed to achieve, and our students are both bright and highly motivated.”
Moon glanced over at Kad, who sat next to her, and he lifted an eyebrow in what he hoped was an encouraging gesture.
“Thank you, Dr. Lazt,” she replied. “I’m pleased to see so many…species of students here.”
Lazt puffed out his chest. “We have pride in how far our planet has progressed. Rest assured that anyone who flees the Republic will be welcome here, regardless of their species. That’s the bedrock philosophy of our world. Strength in diversity.”
“And you won’t encounter any problems adding me to your staff?”
“Problems?” Lazt laughed. “Dr. Skylark, once the other institutes find out I have a highly-trained physicist teaching at my campus, you’ll be beating off their offers with a laser-whip.”
Moon smiled but Kad, who knew her well, saw that it didn’t reach her eyes. She had lost weight in the two months since he’d brought the terrible news to E-Beta. He tried telling her that she looked more matriarchal now, a beautiful and haughty ebony sculpture with exquisitely high cheek-bones come to life, but she remained unmoved by his compliments.
“We may not be part of the Republic,” Lazt continued, “but we’re not uncivilised. In fact, if you agree to teach for us, you’ll find we offer a number of additional benefits. For example, we already have some accommodation prepared for you. Would you like to see it?”
Lazt was like an excited child, and Kad suppressed a smile. When he’d been thinking of a sanctuary for Moon, the planet of Credis hadn’t been high on his list. But, the more he analysed it, the more it suited a brilliant, broken woman who desperately needed purpose in life, even if she didn’t realise it herself.
One month’s journey from the nearest crease, and too close to the lawless Stellar Barrens for the Republic’s comfort, Credis was a progressive oasis with a high level of technology. And, as an added bonus, it was far enough away from Needann to ensure that Moon could live the rest of her life undisturbed by Republic politics.
Moon nodded assent to the accommodation offer and, with barely concealed enthusiasm, Lazt chivvied them out of his office. They tripped down two sets of wide stairs down to the foyer and then out of the building, into the brisk wind that played with falling autumn leaves.
“It gets a little cold in winter,” Lazt explained, shoving
his hands into the pockets of his jacket, but he still wore a grin of pride. “The staff have a skiing club if you’re interested in that kind of thing, Dr. Skylark. Old technology, for sure, but extremely enjoyable.”
He skirted one edge of the quadrangle and backtracked towards a compound of vehicles, all of them neatly parked. Striding past one row, his step quickening, he paced along another string of transports until he stopped beside a speeder that was of a decidedly old vintage but obviously lovingly maintained.
“It’s my pride and joy,” Lazt said, patting a front panel affectionately. “We’ll put you on the list to get one.” He laughed shortly. “Not this one, of course, but a newer model. I’ll forward a request form within the next few days. Waiting time is a handful of months, but it’s worth it. Come on, get in.”
Kad gave Moon a quick grin (she didn’t respond) and gestured her to precede him into the speeder. After making sure they were comfortable and safely buckled in, Lazt lifted off, heading away from the campus and the beckoning urban skyline. Small blocks of development became sparser as the autumn colours of Credis’s natural landscape began to dominate. The environment and the effect of smooth flight above the treetops relaxed Kad. Maybe he’d been in space for too long. If things worked out with Moon and Credis, he thought he might even consider retiring here.
A thread of silver flashed below and, with a flourish, Lazt arced around the widening stream and onwards over a calm lake. It was obvious from his flying that the scenic route they were taking was yet another enticement and the beauty of it was, he didn’t need to say a word. The gorgeous landscape was doing all the selling for him. Finally, after fifteen minutes aloft, Lazt headed for a range of low mountains, finally settling on a plateau halfway up the slope of one of the peaks.
“It’ll be a bit brisk out,” Lazt warned as he lifted the speeder’s canopy, “but the view more than makes up for it, in my opinion.”
That was an understatement. As they stepped out onto the escarpment, they saw a glistening lake below them, its feeder stream snaking lazily in and out of view through surrounding forest. Beside them and the parked speeder, perched against a sloping rocky face, was a small house, its angular surfaces reflecting the sun.
