Nebula's Music

by Aubrie Dionne

  He must have seen something strange in her gaze, or it was what he didn’t see, what she lacked, that brought him back to the moment. His eyes chilled to a frosty cerulean and he released her.

  “I’m sorry.” He turned away. “But you look so much like her. Damn it, you even smell like her as well.”

  Nebula did not want to be let go. The feeling of need ached so strong and so strange. It was as if the black hole inside her vanished with his touch. The aching pain that racked her system had been satiated, like he was the final piece of her identity, the human she once was and the person she craved to be. When he ripped his affection away, the soreness came back in full force, throbbing within her like an open wound. “Who? When you see me, who do you see?”

  The man fell to his knees and covered his face with his hands. “It doesn’t concern you. You aren’t her.” He emphasized the last three words as if he was trying to convince himself.

  “Mirilee?”

  The man glared at her in shock as if she spoke heresy. “How do you know of her? It’s impossible.”

  “It is a strange occurrence, but when I play the piano, I see her memories.”

  The man gawked as if she claimed she was Mirilee reincarnated. “They said there would be no traces left. When the body is reconstituted, it retains nothing of the former life.”

  “Please.” Nebula held out her hand. “I need to know what happened.”

  He refused her offer and left her fingers dangling in midair. “If you see her memories, then you already do.”

  Her hand felt naked and alone. She took it back and held it close to her side as if it were hurt. “That is incorrect. I see partial memories and only when I play certain pieces.”

  “Makes sense in a twisted way.” His words were filled with bittersweet pain. “She loved to play the piano.”

  “Please, sir.” Nebula took a step toward him. She had an unexplainable desire to comfort him, to hold her arms around him and feel his skin against hers. But protocol dictated even one step would be pushing it.

  “Not ‘sir.’ Radian.”

  “Radian.” When she voiced his name, it was like coming home. A thousand words could not be so satisfying. She took another step, but he shriveled away into the corner as if she were poisonous. His reaction to her stung like a slap in the face.

  With a flick of his wrist, he buzzed the warning panel for the guard. Nebula looked at him like he’d betrayed her. “Why?”

  “Because I can’t deal with this right now. Go back to your duties and forget about this.” His words cracked. “Forget about me.”

  Nebula could hear the guard’s footsteps as he jogged to the cell door. She had only seconds at best. She regarded him and, for the first time, felt a sadness twitch her stoic face. Her eyebrows arched and her eyes beseeched.

  Radian’s face softened a bit, making him look vulnerable. “Play ‘Moonlight’ Sonata if you want answers about your past. But leave me alone.”

  The door disappeared, the outside world intruding as the guard sprinted into the room. “Nebula, is there a problem?”

  “No, Corporal.” Her voice was once again flat and composed. “We are done here.”

  She walked out of the cell, feeling disappointment weigh her down. Every time she looked at the man, she felt a little more human and she was tempted to gaze into those deep blue eyes forever to discover what that truly meant. But she knew any more attention would be considered excessive and thereby suspicious.

  “See, I told you those vagrants and lowlifes wouldn’t speak,” the guard said after the cell door materialized.

  Nebula stared at the spot where Radian sat beyond the wall. He was so close, yet it felt as though he were parsecs away. “You were correct. He would not.”

  Chapter 4

  Diamonds

  Nebula was surprised to see Venus pacing by the door to her room. The elegant Trilithian never said more than a formal greeting to her in all her five years on board the ship yet here she was, waiting for her to return. Her face glowed sea green this time, reflecting an anxious alertness.

  “Nebula, I’ve been looking for you.”

  For Nebula, it was poor timing. She was itching to get back to her Steinway and play “Moonlight” Sonata, but common etiquette dictated she address the guest, whether or not they had spoken much in the past. “My apologies. The captain dismissed me early today and I used the free time to do some long-needed research.”

  She realized Venus wasn’t interested in where she had been when the rainbow beauty changed the subject. “Can we speak privately in your chambers?”

  “Of course.” Nebula pressed her hand on the panel. The door hummed open and they entered her room. A faint white light shone brighter as they crossed the threshold, registering their footsteps. “Please have a seat.” Nebula motioned to the bare table she never used. “I am afraid I have no food or beverages.”

  Venus shook her head, her radiant scarlet hair catching the shine of the fluorescent light. “It’s not necessary, thank you. I’m in no mood to eat anything.”

  “I see.” Nebula took the seat across from her. “What can I do for you?”

  Venus’s silver eyes were intense, glittering like multifaceted diamonds. “You must help me convince the captain to let the rebels go.”

  Nebula started as if her main circuit board rebooted. “What you ask is against my programming. Keeping the rebels on board is a threat to the other members of this ship, and letting them go is against the standard UPA-alliance agreement. It is impossible for me to comply.”

  “It is not. Aren’t you supposed to protect all human life? You know the odds of them having a fair trial.”

  Nebula’s lips tightened. “The notion of ‘fairness’ is subjective and is thereby ruled out in probability factoring.”

  “But you know their dire fate.”

  “I can predict it, yes.”

  “And yet you feel no need to help these people?”

  Nebula didn’t answer her right away. She did feel a need, a very strong need, seeing as though the one man who meant anything to her was one of them. But she couldn’t say it, not to Venus. It would give away her blossoming emotions, making her a renegade cyborg with ulterior motives. “No. Sympathy is not programmed in my schematics.”

  Venus’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know why I bothered coming to find you. I always knew it. You’re just as merciless as Oso.” She rose from her chair, smoothing down her uniform as if trying to calm her raging nerves as well. “A coldhearted machine.” She flipped her hair back in a glorious wave. With a sniff, she punched the exit code into the panel and strutted out the door without a word of farewell.

  Nebula wondered how such an emotional and dramatic Trilithian ever got promoted to the second in command of a flight ship, never mind the most illustrious vessel in the fleet. A part of her wanted to throw back a retort, and she wondered where that defiant spark alighted. She’d never felt it before. Perhaps it was just another of the emotions adopted from the memories. Whatever it was, she was fortunate her logical side still had enough control over her irrational side to hold it in check.

  With these problematic thoughts in mind, Nebula connected to the mainframe of the computer. It took seconds to locate the file for “Moonlight” Sonata and milliseconds for her to acquire it. She sat at the piano bench, her fingers touching the keys to produce the ominous opening notes. She’d never experienced the expressive tug of the music but now, playing Beethoven’s most famous composition, she felt a weighty lamentation and wistful echo of a misunderstood person and an unrequited love.

  * * * *

  The piano remained the same, but her surroundings changed. She was in a great gilded hall with a painted ceiling and Roman columns. Water trickled from the mouth of a marble dolphin-shaped fountain and the tones of the piano were subdued by an ancient, Oriental carpet underfoot.

  A rhinestone-encrusted, silver evening dress hugged the curves of her
slender body. The hands touching the piano were undeniably her own, yet lacked the precision and technique. The notes were unevenly spaced by a fraction of a second. She tried to correct it but her hands felt clumsy and slow. To her astonishment, the music sounded more beautiful despite their inaccuracy. The phrases had a sense of depth and urgency to them she could not engineer before, with heightened swells and poignant releases.

  Sensing movement out of the corner of her eye, she glanced up to see Radian, dressed in a tuxedo, holding a velvet box in his hand. He walked toward her and his face brightened, releasing a smile more radiant than the surface of the sun. His face no longer had the hard lines and edge to it and his hair fell in soft, ebony waves around his ears. The locks shone without the frazzled, painted tips of blue.

  Radian gestured to the people seated at tables in the adjoining room. “You should be mingling with the guests, not entertaining them.”

  Nebula did not know what to say. She feared if she voiced the wrong response, the vision would disperse and she would no longer have access to the rest of the memory. To her surprise, her lips moved of another’s accord. “Tsk, tsk, you know I love to play. I’m not one for chatter at parties such as these.”

  “Come now, please, join us, for me. My father expects the entire family to be present in the audience to hear his speech.”

  “But I’m not in your family, you know that.”

  He held out the box. “Open it, Mirilee.”

  The velvet of the box crushed underneath her fingertips, soft and delicate. She unlatched the silver clasp and it popped open. Diamonds of all sizes and shapes glimmered back at her. There were so many she thought she’d drop the box and they’d scatter all over the Oriental carpet, the tiny ones never to be found again.

  “Go ahead, pick it up.”

  In doing so, she realized all the glittering jewels were strung together in an ornate necklace of intersecting circles—all except one. In the center, underneath the necklace, nestled a single diamond ring.

  “Marry me,” Radian pleaded as if his existence balanced on her reply. He took the necklace from her hands and reached around her face to secure it underneath her blond curls. His fingers brushed and tickled her neck, eliciting a flurry of excitement deep inside her, a primal urge.

  “I don’t know what to say.” Nebula was shocked at the coldness of her tone. Did Mirilee not care for Radian as much as he did for her?

  He took her chin in his hands, his gaze bright and unwavering in the golden light. “Say yes. Please.”

  Mirilee looked away, as if considering whether to have tea. “All right. Yes.”

  Radian beamed. “My father has offered to loan us his lake cottage for the weekend. We can go right after the ceremony and spend some time alone.” He moved to kiss her, but she turned away, only offering her cheek.

  “What about my sister?”

  Radian nodded and smiled, although he seemed disappointed. “Yes, yes, tell Mora she can come as well.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Now will you please join us for the presentation?”

  Nebula wanted to tear her hands away from the piano and put them around Radian, but Mirilee was controlling this memory and she continued to play. “After this song is finished.”

  Radian took in a breath and held it in his chest as if his lungs would burst before speaking again. “Honestly, Mirilee, sometimes I wonder if you love your music more than you love me.”

  “Come now, dear. You know a professional musician cannot leave a song unresolved.”

  Nebula’s fingers came to the end of the piece and she brought her hands down. The silence heightened the anticipation of the response.

  “Will you come with me now?”

  “Yes, but you know I don’t agree with your father’s tactics.” She rose from the piano, and without the sound of the music, the vision started to fade. She must have finished the song at the piano back on board the flight ship. Nebula held on as tightly as she could. Perhaps she could last a few more moments to glean another morsel of information.

  “I know. I don’t either, but it’s my father’s legacy. I must support him whether I agree or not.”

  “The Gryphonites will never bow to our requests for peace. Slavery has been embedded in their culture for eons and they see it as a right.”

  “I know, but we must try. Another war would devastate the UPA alliance.”

  “There are people suffering on that bleak planet as we speak with no hope of rescue and here we are, in gowns clinking wine glasses. When your father preaches peace, he is also prolonging their pain. Radian, he’s fighting the inevitable. What we need is full-out war.”

  He put a hand on her shoulder. “Mirilee, please understand. We are taking measures to return them through negotiations right now, as we speak. That is my father’s main goal.”

  “Negotiations are useless and time consuming! What if it is too late?” She stepped away from the piano bench and took his arm.

  Radian shifted like a cold wind blew down his spine and a frown twitched in his lips. He looked as though he were about to reply, but no answer came.

  Her shoulders shook with a reflexive shudder. “I’d rather die than be taken by them and forced into their worker camps.”

  Radian laughed lightly, but the sound was brittle. She could tell her comment made him uncomfortable. “Well, they’ve never come here and attacked Earth.” He brushed a curl out of her eyes. “And that, my dear, will never happen.”

  As they walked into the extravagant ballroom, the lights from the chandeliers refracted off the hanging crystals, and Nebula’s vision fragmented and flickered out.

  Chapter 5

  Another Face

  This time when Nebula regained consciousness, she was sprawled several feet from the piano, which stood by the glass like a portal into space, a vessel that whisked her to faraway places in time. Its slick black frame was both awe-inspiring and intimidating.

  Sitting up, Nebula processed the ramifications of the memory. It must have been Mirilee’s sister in the boat. Not only did she look just like her, but she was mentioned in their conversation concerning the lake house. The probability was high, but it was more of a gut feeling, an impulse to save her, that pushed her toward that conclusion.

  “Mora.” The sound of the name comforted her. She’d never spoken with Mora, but somehow, deep down, she felt like Nebula’s own sister as well. It was the only family she knew of and the connection warmed her heart. Just hours ago, she didn’t have any family at all.

  The Gryphonites had taken Mora. The thought hit Nebula hard in the stomach and it took her long moments to come to grips with the idea of it. She’d heard so many stories of people taken by them, but never had those stories been confirmed.

  Nebula straightened. Her purpose of preserving life took on a new meaning. The Gryphonites were not known to execute their prisoners, so Mora may still be alive. Whether or not Mora accepted her as family, Nebula could still try to reach out to her. Rescuing Mora would not conflict with her orders if she waited until a leave of absence and requested a transport—then she might be able to arrange a rescue team. All her circuits screamed it was impossible, but somehow Nebula knew she’d find a way.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the intercom. A red flashing light alerted an incoming transmission. Nebula sprinted to the monitor, her index finger striking the key to turn it on.

  The guard from Deck Eighteen flashed his face on her screen. “Good evening, Nebula.”

  “Good evening, Corporal.” She returned his salute, hoping her earlier intrusion hadn’t caused a problem.

  “Sorry to bother you,” he scratched his head, “but it seems Prisoner Twenty-six has had a change of heart.”

  Nebula leaned into the screen, her chin down so her eyes locked directly into his. “What do you mean by that?”

  “It seems he wants to talk. But he wants to talk to you alone.”

  This n
ew information was highly unpredictable and Radian’s actions were clearly impulsive and erratic. Nebula’s circuits were sparking with all possible outcomes, but she couldn’t pin down any one in particular. Was it a trap?

  To visit him again would raise the risks involved by thirty-four percent, never mind the physiological affects. Nebula paused while the information computed. She overrode the warnings and spoke into the intercom, exerting an extra effort to keep her voice steady. “I will be right down.”

  It did not take her long to get there. Within minutes, she stood before Radian’s cell, the corporal at her side, inputting the code into the panel.

  “You give me a holler if he turns on you,” the guard said. The door vanished and the open cell loomed. “I’ve programmed a voice-activated response to your commands.”

  “Thank you, Corporal.” This time Nebula didn’t have to fake her ambivalence. His protection tactics were completely unnecessary and stemmed from an illogical disposition to protect slender women. She hardly needed it.

  With a nod, she walked in. The cell door materialized behind her, giving her the privacy she required. She checked the walls, but there were no taps. They trusted a cyborg would report any useful information, and she would. It was her prime objective to put human life before her own. If Radian had any information, she was obliged to report directly to the captain.

  However, she didn’t think this conversation concerned rebel plans.

  Radian sat where she had left him in the same spot on the floor. All the emotions surged through her body as she stood before him. She restrained her irrational thoughts and allowed him to make the first move.

  He studied her as if she were a walking lie, gauging every step, every twitch of her eye. Radian rose, but this time kept his distance. His eyes were red, as if he’d been crying. “I’m sorry I spoke so harshly before.”