Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets

by Christie Golden

  Okto-Bar continued implacably. “The air in the affected zone is unbreathable and highly contaminated. And this… thing… keeps on growing. Like a tumor.” He practically spat the last word.

  Another voice joined the conversation—masculine, strong, certain. “A tumor that we have to cut out as soon as we can. If we don’t, and the cancer keeps spreading, it will destroy Alpha in under a week.”

  The speaker entered the control room. He was a striking figure in his blue-green uniform, his posture straight and his expression concerned but confident. There was not a crease in his uniform that wasn’t meant to be there, nor a hair out of place, and he radiated a sense of leashed energy. Valerian had never met him, but he recognized him at once as Commander Arun Filitt.

  Filitt’s reputation preceded him, of course. It always did. He had blazed through the ranks and become a genuine war hero, promoted to general at the young age of thirty. Since that time, he had been redirected from active military duty in order to inspire humanity in other areas. His current position was commander of Alpha Station. It was whispered that he wasn’t overly fond of aliens, which, in Valerian’s mind, made him an odd choice to head up a space station in which aliens outnumber humans about a thousand to one, but it was not his job to question his superiors.

  He knew that Okto-Bar had been a shoo-in for the position and had to be smarting at seeing Filitt in the role, but both men were behaving professionally toward one another.

  Filitt was flanked by two of the K-TRON combat androids that served the station as police officers. While their bodies, which towered nearly ten feet tall, were somewhat humanoid, their designers had made no attempt to humanize them otherwise. Their heads were featureless, save for a light that blinked in two colors that all denizens of the station had come to know: blue for “move,” red for “eliminate target.” Their nearly impenetrable armor was shiny black, banded with yellow at the areas that corresponded to upper arms and thighs. Despite their massive size, they moved with fluid grace, speed, and efficiency.

  Valerian and Laureline saluted smartly. “Commander,” Valerian said. Filitt nodded in acknowledgement. Valerian returned his attention to the screen, searching for and finding no clues there about the ominous red spot.

  “Sir… this doesn’t make sense. Who’d have any reason to destroy Alpha? Practically every living species is represented here.”

  Filitt turned his eyes to the screen and his mouth hardened. “This radiation is a weapon of mass destruction. And behind every weapon, there is a killer. So no matter who it is, Major, it’s a threat to us all, and must be eliminated.”

  Valerian took in the news. He could see by Laureline’s expression that she liked it no better than he. Even so, he had to say something.

  “Of course the radiation must be stopped, but if we could determine—”

  He was interrupted by the appearance of the Federation’s defense minister on one of the screens.

  “Minister,” said the commander, nodding a greeting. “I hope you have news?”

  “I do, Commander,” the minister said. He was in his early seventies, but his black hair bore no trace of gray and the lines on his dark skin were well-earned. The ones on his forehead were accentuated as he frowned with concern. “The Council has given you the green light. But we strongly recommend that international law and the civil rights of all concerned should be respected.”

  “Thank you, sir. And of course. I shall see to it personally,” the commander assured him.

  “Also, I’ve assigned agents Valerian and Laureline to be responsible for your physical protection,” the minister continued.

  That bit of information seemed to surprise Filitt, but he recovered quickly. “That won’t be necessary,” the commander assured him. He indicated the pair of silent robots beside him. “As you can see by the presence of my companions here, I have a unit of K-TRONs and I personally trained for—”

  Frowning more deeply, the defense minister cut him off in mid-sentence. “It’s a direct order from the government, Commander. The two agents need to report on the outcome of the operations.”

  A muscle twitched near the commander’s eye. But, “As you wish,” was all he said.

  “Major, Sergeant,” the minister said, looking at each of them in turn, “good luck!”

  The minister’s face disappeared. Filitt turned to look at his two new guardians with thinly disguised annoyance.

  “Since we have to join your team, do you mind updating us on the operation?” Valerian inquired with perfect politeness.

  The commander gave him a penetrating glance. “I am going to speak to the Security Council in a few minutes,” he said crisply. “You will have all the details you need to know at that point.”

  All pretense of pleasantness abandoned, the commander turned and strode out of the room, followed by his K-TRONs.

  Laureline watched them go. “Boy,” she drawled, “this is going to be a lot of fun!”

  * * *

  Commander Filitt walked through the station briskly, but he was not heading to his meeting with the Security Council. Not yet, anyway. There was something he needed to follow up on.

  The area was secured, but his clearance permitted him entry. He ascended in a small lift that was tight quarters for him and two K-TRONs. At least he was not forced to make small talk. In so many respects, robots were superior to living beings, even humans, he mused.

  He emerged from the lift and went down another corridor, which was dark save for blue lighting along the floor. The corridor ended at the door of a single room. Filitt keyed in his code and the door slid open. The two K-TRONs waited outside for their commander as he entered.

  A K-TRON captain was stationed just inside the room, perfectly motionless, carrying his weapon untiringly. The room, like the corridor outside, was dimly lit, and the figure at the end of it was swathed in shadow. Its stats were monitored on a screen. It sat slumped in a chair, prevented from falling out of it only by the bindings that went around its thin frame. What faint light there was caught the gleam of medical instruments and various drips sticking out of the silhouette’s arms.

  One of Filitt’s men was leaning forward, shouting into the creature’s face, demanding information. The figure in the chair remained infuriatingly silent.

  Another subordinate was at the controls, observing. When the door opened, he stepped away from his station to stand beside the commander. Filitt watched impassively as the interrogation continued.

  “Anything?” he inquired.

  “We’ve tried everything we know,” his subordinate replied, “but for now we haven’t got a peep out of him.”

  The commander grimaced. This was not good. Torture was a fine art, he had learned. With aliens, it was often so hard to know what they’d respond to. You couldn’t do too much, or else any confessions would be completely false or, worse, the subject would die without revealing any necessary information. On the other hand…

  “Increase the dosage,” he ordered. The man nodded and returned to his station, touching a few buttons. Various liquids oozed through their tubes into the subject’s flesh. The subject arched its back, the hood it wore falling away to reveal a pale face contorted in agony. Its skin was almost luminous, like the luster of a pearl, save where it was discolored from beatings.

  And although its mouth was open and twisted in pain, the creature stubbornly remained silent.

  Damn you, Filitt thought. I’m running out of time.

  He made a decision. “If he hasn’t talked within an hour, finish him off.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The commander turned to leave, pausing to whisper to the K-TRON captain as he walked out. “If the operation goes wrong, you know what you have to do.”

  The K-TRON captain nodded its inhuman head once. Before he left, positioning his body so that no one else in the room would see, Filitt discreetly gave the robot a small data storage device.

  On to the meeting, Filitt thought, and squared his shoulders
as if he were preparing to head into battle.

  Because, in a way, he was.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The converter was waiting for them patiently in the regenerator, but as soon as it spotted Laureline it started to bounce up and down excitedly. Despite the seriousness of what they’d just learned—and what they were about to do—Laureline found herself smiling as she switched off the machine and opened the door.

  “Aww, did you miss me? Come here,” she said as the creature scampered happily into her arms. She cradled it affectionately, and realized she was growing quite attached to it. “Isn’t he a cutie?” she said to Valerian, holding him out to her partner.

  Valerian patted the creature’s head absently, but his face was hard. “Somebody’s holding out on us,” he said bluntly.

  Laureline’s own heart sank, and even the happy snuffling of the converter underneath her chin couldn’t move her. “I agree. Setting off like that without the faintest idea of who we’re fighting is suicidal.”

  “Of course it is, but I don’t mean that. I meant planet Mül,” Valerian said. “You remember that dream I told you about? The images I was fed?”

  She nodded, stroking the cooing converter, wondering where Valerian was going with this. “The planet was inhabited,” her partner continued. “There were creatures on it. I saw their houses and children. And there was a young woman calling to me for help.”

  Laureline stopped petting the converter, bridling slightly. “Really?” she scoffed. “And you call that a bad dream? Knowing you, it’s more like a dream come true.” She widened her eyes and pitched her voice higher as she said in an exaggerated voice, “Oh, Major Valerian! Help! Save me!”

  She was startled when he said with uncharacteristic sharpness, “Knock it off, Laureline—this woman had a Mül converter with her.”

  Laureline became serious. Scratching the converter under the chin, she asked, “Like this fellow?”

  “Yes, almost exactly like him. And this morning I ran into two of the planet’s inhabitants in the flesh!”

  She stared at him. “You mean—at Big Market?”

  Valerian nodded. “We were sent to retrieve the stolen converter from Igon Siruss, but they were there trying to get it from him too. Actually, I suspect they paid him to steal it from us.”

  Laureline peered at the small creature she cuddled. “Whoa,” she said to him. “Sounds like everybody is after you!”

  The converter chirped.

  “That may be. But what I want to know is, why do we need him for this mission?”

  Laureline grinned. “Let’s find out,” she said. “Come on. Let’s gear up.”

  * * *

  They approached Commander Filitt’s quarters to find two K-TRONs standing on either side of the door. “Agents Valerian and Laureline. We’re here to guard the commander,” Valerian informed them. He wondered if this was going to be a problem, but somewhat to his surprise they stepped aside and permitted the team entrance.

  Filitt was adjusting the last of his ceremonial regalia and eyed their battledress as they stepped inside.

  “Wow!” the commander said sardonically. “You two look most impressive. I can see you’re taking my protection very seriously.”

  Laureline held up the box containing the converter. Its small face was pressed to one of the slats in the front. He stuck his narrow muzzle out and his nose twitched as he sniffed.

  “His protection, actually,” she corrected. “He’s one of a kind. Extremely precious.”

  “Precisely” Valerian said, then asked the commander, “Given that, are you sure there’s any purpose taking him along with us on such a dangerous mission?”

  Filitt adjusted his jacket as he spoke, eyeing himself critically in the mirror. “The Mül converter is capable of producing any conceivable product in record time. It will come in very handy if we have to negotiate.”

  Satisfied with the jacket, he reached for the large traditional belt that would encircle his waist. In the center was a circular ornamentation that was hollow inside. It was common military issue to have such a centrally located, small pack. Over the years, though, it had become regalia rather than a practical accoutrement, and its contents were reflective of rank. The commander’s, Valerian noted, was currently empty, and he had a sneaking suspicion what Filitt wanted to put inside.

  As the commander turned, fastening the belt, Valerian said, “With the army of K-TRONs you’ve got, I’m surprised negotiating is on your agenda, Commander. They’re not really trained for that, seeing as they can’t talk.”

  That appeared to irritate Filitt. He replied tersely, “You take care of my security, Major. I’ll take care of the negotiations.”

  He went to Laureline and reached out toward the container she carried. Opening the door, intending to grab the small animal, he stuck his hand inside.

  The converter promptly bit him. Valerian thought that the creature exhibited excellent judgment, but somehow managed not to voice the sentiment.

  “For your personal security, sir,” he said instead as Filitt snatched back his hand and inspected his finger, “how about you leave the animal to Agent Laureline for safekeeping?”

  Filitt stared at him, his eyes narrowed. “You mean wear the belt with nothing in it? That’s against protocol, Major. I am the highest ranking officer on this station!”

  “And this animal, as far as we know, is the last specimen of its species. The whole universe is after it. And by carrying it, you automatically become a target,” Valerian pointed out.

  Laureline added wryly, “That’s why Major Valerian would rather I carried it.”

  The commander hesitated. He glanced again at the converter, who was displaying its admirable discernment by growling and baring its small teeth.

  “All right,” Filitt said at last, “but do not leave my sight, Agent Laureline.”

  Laureline beckoned to the converter in the carrying case. It hopped into her arms, purring, and Filitt looked even more irritated. She opened the front of her own belt and slipped the converter inside.

  The door opened to reveal General Okto-Bar. He, too, was formally dressed.

  “Your guests are waiting, sir,” Okto-Bar said to Filitt.

  “All right,” said Filitt, with one final look at Laureline’s belt. “Let’s make it fast.”

  * * *

  “Stay on backup,” Valerian ordered Laureline.

  “Yes, sir,” she replied.

  The two were twenty feet behind Commander Filitt as he entered, but on Valerian’s command, Laureline dropped back into the corridor while the major continued to follow the commander into the ceremonial hall. A crowd of extraterrestrial dignitaries who comprised the membership of the station’s Security Council stepped forward to shake the commander’s hand as he entered. Filitt was the picture of calm military decorum as he looked each of them in the eye—or what passed for it— and firmly shook whatever appendage was proffered.

  As the commander made his way to the podium, Valerian and Okto-Bar followed. Gravely, not a hair out of place, Filitt lightly jogged up the steps and stepped behind the podium, taking a moment to look out at the sea of alien faces turned up to him. Okto-Bar stood off to the side, while Valerian took up a position beside and slightly behind the man he was guarding. He busied himself with scanning the crowd, alert to anything that might pose a potential threat. His HUD also had two transparent screens constantly feeding him information. He might not like the commander much, but he was not about to let the man die on his watch.

  “Where’s Agent Laureline?” Filitt asked in a soft voice.

  “She’s down the hall at the far corridor, sir,” Valerian reassured him quietly.

  “Her orders were not to leave my sight,” the commander said. There was an edge to his words, though his voice was still pitched softly.

  “Yes, sir, but she and I are your security, and I placed her where I thought best.”

  “But—”

  “Sir, the sooner you speak,
the sooner we can get this over with,” Valerian reminded him. The look that his superior officer gave him could have melted steel, but the commander merely tightened his jaw and turned back to his audience.

  “Good evening,” he began. “I want to thank you all for answering the call at such short notice. As the elected representative of the Human Federation, I have called this meeting of the Station Alpha Security Council to update you regarding the state of emergency in which we find ourselves.

  “As you all know, the historic heart of Alpha Station has been contaminated by a power whose origin remains a mystery to us. What’s not a mystery is that this is a deliberate act of absolute evil. We have already conducted several military operations in an attempt to ascertain and understand the nature—and severity—of the threat. But these have ended in failure, and have resulted in significant losses among our troops.”

  He let that sink in. There was a rippling of dozens of languages throughout the vast hall. Filitt continued. “The affected area of this epidemic measured approximately thirty feet eight months ago.” He paused for effect, then said, “It is now one point two miles long.”

  More concerned murmuring. “In light of this alarming and growing threat to us all, the Human Federation seeks your permission and support to launch a comprehensive and decisive military attack to eradicate this phenomenon once and for all. I am sure you will appreciate that time is of the essence, and I’m here to answer any questions you may have about the details of the operation.”

  “Which troops will lead the operation?” a Chrysokar asked. The tall insectoid beings had once been bellicose and masters of warfare. Over the centuries, they had turned their skills and nature to peacekeeping, but many of them, apparently including their ambassador, still had an interest in things martial. Valerian had a particular respect for the species. His first post out of the Academy had been with the infantry, where he had spent a year working for a Chrysokar military engineer named Prek’Tor, who shared with the eager young human his formidable knowledge about military strategy.

  “Thirteenth Battalion, Special Assault division,” Filitt replied. “It is a unit of about two hundred.”