“What do you mean?” Valerian asked.
Sorrow flitted across the elegant features. “We are a long-lived people, but not even a star can shine forever. Or a Pearl. At the moment of our passing, we release all the energy left in our body in the form of a wave, which travels through space and time. We cast our memories, our souls, all that is when the body is no more, out into the universe. Sometimes, the wave crests and dissipates alone in the cold darkness. But not always. Sometimes it finds a benevolent host.”
He paused, and then said, “My Lïho-Minaa chose you to be the guardian of her soul.”
“Ah,” Valerian said softly, in wonder. Then he said to Laureline under his breath, “I told you!”
The empress had risen. Tears swam in the azure glory of her eyes. Her cheeks, too, were a soft warm rose. She stepped toward him, her tan and orange robes fluttering with the graceful movement. “My daughter…”
Valerian panicked for just an instant as the empress reached out long-fingered, slender hands and slipped them around his. Then, suddenly, everything in him that was little and petty, insecure and self-centered, fearful and angry, seemed to simply dissolve. Calmness filled him. He breathed in and out, and it was the ancient rhythm of every sea pulled to the shore by the sweet song of its moons, every mother’s kiss on the beloved child’s brow, every kind laugh, every soft sigh, and the vast twinkling of every star.
For the first time in his energetic, tumultuous life, Valerian tasted peace.
He felt her stir within him, summoned by her mother’s longing words, and Empress Aloi took a quick breath. Laureline was staring at him—no. Not at him.
At Princess Lïho-Minaa.
“Oh, my dear one… I am so happy to see you,” the empress… the mother whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
As am I, came the—words? Thoughts?
“Same here,” stammered Valerian. “I mean, she is, too.”
The empress’s full-hearted smile turned slightly playful at Valerian’s words, and she released his hands. He dared not look at Laureline. Not yet. One of the Pearls brought them drinks. Laureline and Valerian accepted the beverage, but did not drink.
The emperor raised his glass. “To my daughter’s memory!”
The two humans paused with their drinks at their lips. Valerian pointed to the commander. “If we drink with you, should we expect to suffer the same fate?”
He had to ask, but he knew the answer. He had known it, really, ever since he had woken from the “dream” of a world destroyed.
The emperor must have seen it in his face. He smiled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Your friend is merely sleeping. Do you want us to wake him up?”
Valerian glanced again at the commander, and started to grin when he heard Filitt’s soft snoring.
“It can wait. And I wouldn’t call him my friend.” Valerian gazed intently at the emperor, sobering slightly. “Where do you come from?”
“Ah, I thought you had worked that out.”
He had. But it was one thing to think it, another to speak it.
“Planet Mül,” Valerian said quietly.
Laureline’s eyes were wide. The emperor continued to speak, and as he did so, Valerian saw in his mind, as real as if it were all playing out before him in reality, everything the Pearl said.
“Our planet was a true paradise, in which we lived in harmony with the elements.”
Valerian saw the Twelve Wise Sisters, as the Pearls called the dozen moons that orbited their world, hovering protectively over their child, the sea. Fishermen were hauling nets swollen with pearls, which they spread on the sand and, laughing, began to sort.
“Our main activity was fishing for the pearls which possessed phenomenal energy. They fertilized our lands, controlled the winds and tides…”
Carrying woven baskets of the precious objects, the Pearls strode inland, heading to a small crater. They upended their baskets, pouring thousands of harvested pearls into the crater’s mouth.
“Three times a year, we gave to the earth what the sea had given us. And so we had lived, in harmony, for centuries incalculable.” His voice turned heavy. “Until the day it all ended.”
Valerian tensed. He did not want to see this again. Did not want to see laughing children, chasing one another along the white sand beach, stop and stare as a meteorite streaked across the heavens, followed by thousands of others.
“In the sky over Mül,” said the emperor, “other people blindly fought out a brutal war. A war that wasn’t ours.”
“Your daughter died during the battle,” Valerian said. It was a statement, not a question.
“Yes,” said the emperor, his voice heavy with sorrow. “She died… along with six million others.”
There was silence. Laureline stared in horror, then chugged her cocktail. Valerian peered at her. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” Laureline replied, defensively. “I… I was thirsty! Can I get another wonderful house cocktail please?” She didn’t look like she thought it was wonderful. She looked sick and shaken by the realizations that were coming thick and fast.
And Valerian realized that he, too, could use a drink.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Noïntan Okto-Bar prided himself on being in control and operating by the book. No flashy, dramatic gestures, just hard work, a keen eye for gathering the up-and-coming as staff members, and a cool head when things got hot.
But now, though, he found himself holding an empty shot glass that had very recently contained Scotch to calm nerves that were more jangled than he could ever remember. He stared dolefully at the screen, resisting the temptation for another drink. One shot steadies nerves, a second gets on them, he told himself.
All at once, streams of data flashed on the screen.
“We have contact, General,” Neza informed him. He looked as pleased and relieved as Okto-Bar felt.
About time, the general thought. He plunked the empty shot glass down and straightened.
“All right, Captain Kris,” he said, his voice as calm and steady as ever, “we are locked onto you.”
“We see no signs of radiation or contamination,” came Kris’s voice. “Can you confirm?”
Okto-Bar’s gaze moved over the screen. “Sounds crazy, but yes… confirmed. Zero trace of either.”
“Make note that we are proceeding without our gas masks. Moving forward.”
Okto-Bar’s eyes flickered to the empty glass, then back to the screen. What the hell is going on down there?
* * *
The Pearls had brought Valerian and Laureline more drinks. They were cool, and sweet, and soothing, much like the Pearls themselves, and Valerian and Laureline drank gratefully. At last, Valerian asked, “What happened after the explosion? How did you survive?”
“We drifted in space for many years, in a spaceship that wasn’t ours. To survive, we needed to learn. So we studied your civilization, down to the smallest detail, searching for anything that could be of use, that could keep us alive. We found a portion of the ship that housed living plants. And so, we planted shoots, collected droplets of water on leaves. We analyzed your computer, and learned by trial and error how to operate it.
“Then, one day, we were picked up by scrap dealers traveling the galaxies. After a few years, their hold was full, and they went off to sell the cargo on a huge construction site.”
“Alpha,” Valerian breathed.
The emperor nodded. “The city of a thousand planets, where for hundreds of years so many species have shared their knowledge and intelligence with each other. Patiently and discreetly, we learned from each of them, and we pieced together our own vessel. Our planet is gone forever, but now, we are able to virtually reconstitute our world.”
“Amazing,” Valerian exclaimed.
“There are only two things that we lack,” the emperor continued.
“A Mül converter,” Laureline said.
“And a pearl,” said Valerian.
“The only one Ts�
�uri managed to salvage,” the emperor said.
Valerian was starting to fill in the blank spaces in the narrative. “So, a year ago, you signal your existence, and you make contact with us,” he said, working it out.
Laureline was piecing it together, too. “And the only thing you ask for in compensation for all you have lost is the last converter alive in order to mass-produce your pearl,” said Laureline.
“Yes,” replied the emperor. “That was all. We could do the rest.” A shadow settled upon his beautiful face. “But during the handover, things did not go as planned.”
“What happened?”
He paused for a moment, clearly still feeling the pain of what happened. “A unit came to negotiate with us outside the wall—where you stood just now. Tsûuri stepped through the wall to speak with them. We were all so pleased that, at last, we could honor those who had died by rebuilding the world we had so loved.
“A young captain met us there. He had a metallic box at his side—we believe it was the converter. He seemed uneasy, and spoke to someone who was not present. This person— the commander of the mission—asked how many of us there were. When the captain replied, he gave his orders.”
The emperor paused. “The commander of the mission said, ‘I want no survivors. Annihilate them all!’”
Valerian and Laureline stared at him. Valerian didn’t want to believe it. His people? Why?
The emperor smiled sadly. “The unfortunate captain looked confused, but he obeyed his order. Many of my people were fatally wounded. A few, including Tsûuri, managed to make it back through the wall alive.
“What… why…” Laureline stammered, shocked beyond the ability to form a coherent question.
The emperor continued. “After—after the attack, we continued to observe what was happening on the other side of the wall, hoping we could somehow rescue our injured brethren. But we could not—and we were not the only ones who were betrayed that terrible day. The poor captain received another transmission. The commanding officer spoke. ‘I said: no survivors. Annihilate them all!’ And so, the captain and his men fell—killed by hidden black-armored robots, tall, sleek, and merciless.”
K-TRONs, Valerian thought, feeling ill. K-TRONs under the command of whoever was heading that mission.
Valerian and Laureline could say nothing. What was there to say? It was too awful to comprehend.
“We are survivors, but that makes us witnesses,” the emperor said quietly. “Witnesses of the past that humans want to erase and forget forever.”
“We can forgive,” the empress said, “but how can we forget?”
Valerian and Laureline exchanged sick, sad glances. Then Laureline spoke. Her voice was raw, almost as if she had been crying. “So they… we… left you no choice but to steal the converter from us. Tsûuri hired a professional to do the job…”
“Igon Siruss!” yelped Valerian. It all came together.
“But,” Laureline continued, “zealous Major Valerian intervenes during the transaction, and retrieves the converter.”
“You’d exhausted all your options by that point,” Valerian said. “The only thing you could do to get the converter was to kidnap the commander and force him to tell the truth.”
The emperor nodded. “You know our story now. Our destiny is in your hands.”
The emperor motioned to his wife. Empress Aloi nodded and knelt beside the slumbering form of Commander Filitt. Gentle, even now, she ran a long-fingered hand over his brow. He woke with a panic-stricken start and leapt to his feet.
“Where am I? Men!” His gaze fell on Valerian. “Major?”
He rushed over to the two agents and put them between him and the emperor. “Major! Arrest these creatures immediately! They kidnapped me! They’re extremely dangerous!”
“They are Pearls from planet Mül,” said Valerian, coldly.
Filitt stared at him. Something flickered, frightened and ugly, in the depths of his eyes, to be replaced by the more familiar hardness. “Yes—they are. They told me their ridiculous story. But it’s impossible. Mül was uninhabited.”
Laureline scoffed, and pointed to the Pearls. “Their existence proves the contrary, doesn’t it?”
Filitt flushed darkly, and his expression grew dangerous. “There was no life on the planet, I’m telling you. The detectors were categorical. Arrest them—and that’s an order!”
Valerian’s eyes narrowed. “How can you be so sure?”
Filitt’s eyes slid away. “Because I—I read the reports, and—”
Valerian finished for him. “And you were on board.”
He’d seen his share of cornered criminals. He knew what would come next. Anger, justification, perhaps pleading.
Filitt did not disappoint. “Yes,” he snapped. “I was on board. And we had plenty more to worry about! Our cruisers were being decimated. We lost five hundred thousand soldiers in one day. Half a million of our people, Agent! It was complete carnage!”
Valerian shoved his face to within an inch of the commander’s. “And you were so preoccupied that you didn’t see the detector indicating signs of life on the planet.”
The commander looked confused.
“Or even worse,” Laureline put in, “perhaps you knew the planet was inhabited and deliberately sacrificed it.”
* * *
Too much had happened to Arun Filitt. He stared at the young agents, wondering how they had found him, wondering where he was, wondering what had happened. How it had gone so wrong. It wasn’t wrong, what he did, it was necessary. How could they possibly understand? They weren’t there, having to make decisions that affected millions.
And there had been no life on the planet. This couldn’t be real.
And yet…
The memory, until now distorted, revised, shoved away to the back of his mind, descended like a creature too long leashed and now set free—angry, and too powerful to resist.
* * *
“Engage fusio-missiles!” Commander Filitt shouted, screaming to be heard over the din of attack, the crackle and spitting of damaged equipment, and the screams of the dying. Through the cacophony of battle, somehow he heard Major Samk’s panic-stricken voice.
“Commander?” The major stood at his post, which was operating the detector that scanned for any and all forms of life.
“What is it?” The ship took another hit and everyone stumbled, clutching at chairs or consoles to stay on their feet.
“The planet is inhabited!” Samk shouted.
Filitt spared a glance from the hell manifesting on the viewing screens to look at the major. Samk’s eyes were wide and he looked distraught.
“We know, by primitive life forms!” Filitt snapped. Why was Samk wasting his time? People were dying on this ship, dying on the other hundreds of vessels in the fleet—
“No, Commander,” Samk replied, speaking quickly. “By sentient beings!”
Filitt stared at him. This wasn’t possible. That planet was uninhabited. Needed to be uninhabited…
You have to be quiet, Samk, he thought wildly. I can’t hear this. Not now.
But Samk pressed on. “I have detected a complex language and huge cerebral energy.”
The words galvanized Filitt into action. He strode to the major and snatched his badge. The detector abruptly ceased functioning.
“Major Samk,” he growled through clenched teeth, “history is on the march. Neither you, nor a bunch of savages can stand in its way!”
But Samk, apparently, was going to try. “It’s an intelligent species, Commander. I’m sorry to insist, but their DNA print is bigger than ours.”
“And so our victory will be twice as big.” The commander returned to his post. He did not waver. Staring out on the screen, seeing ships catch fire and be blown to bits—he hit the button that unleashed the apocalypse.
He watched with cold pleasure and a sense of justice done as the gigantic enemy flagship was hit, spiraled out of control, and crashed into Mül. He felt only the
slightest twinge as the planet was wrapped by an explosion that cracked its blue-green orb into pieces.
It had been a pretty planet… but war had casualties.
* * *
A cold, hard, male voice jolted him out of the memory.
“So when you found out that survivors from planet Mül were living in the heart of Alpha, you decided to erase any trace of your mistake, rather than accept the consequences. Right?”
Filitt heard again his own voice in memory, now, as he watched the Pearls emerge from behind their wall. I want no survivors. Annihilate them all!
And the young captain, gone too. No voices left to speak against him. K-TRONs. Better than humans. No loyalty, no ideology, no judgment. Just programming, and obeying that programming. Simple. Clean.
“And you destroyed all evidence Major Samk had against you.”
No. He didn’t want to see this. But the speaker had said the words, and the images came, unbidden, and he was unable to drive them back into the safe darkness where they had dwelt for the last year.
He had overridden the lock on Major Samk’s door and entered quietly, so very quietly. He checked before he acted—a brief glimpse at the screen confirmed that Samk was, indeed, typing a report on what had happened above planet Mül.
It was a shame.
Filitt had lifted the muzzle to the back of Samk’s head and pulled the trigger.
“It was the only way!” Filitt exploded. The words of justification he had hoped he would never have to speak were ripped from him. He stared wildly at the two agents, whose faces might as well have been carved into stone.
“Don’t you see?” he pleaded. “Admitting to an error on this scale would have exposed our government to colossal damages and compensation claims. Our economy would never recover!”
The faces only grew harder, more judgmental. They were willfully choosing not to understand. His voice rose in desperation.
“In one instant, we would have lost our supremacy, our leadership. There would have been immediate sanctions, and it’s a pretty good bet we would have been banished from Alpha—the very station we created, dammit—and been deprived of access to the galaxy’s greatest market of knowledge and intelligence. Is that what you would have wanted for your fellow citizens?”
Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets Page 19
