In Heaven and Earth

by Amy Rae Durreson

  Reuben put his hands over his ears.

  Vairya tried to peel them away, leaning around Reuben, who tried to push him back, and they both went tumbling across the grass of the bower.

  The lawn conveniently extended just before they rolled into the briars, and Vairya slammed his hands down on either side of Reuben’s head to stop them rolling any further.

  “There!” he said, a little breathlessly. “I’ve caught you.”

  “I’m supposed to be catching you,” Reuben complained, but the sweetness of the air and the strangeness of the moment softened him, and he smiled, just a little.

  Vairya’s eyes widened. “He smiles! Is such a thing permitted to knights of your solemn order, oh most virtuous and humble of penitents?”

  “What are you going on about now?” Vairya had ended up sprawled over his chest, and he was staring down at Reuben with mischief in his eyes again.

  “I’ve decided you’re a penitent friar. It’s the only thing that accounts for your bad temper. Celibacy and flagellation do that to a man.”

  “I’m not a flagellant!” Reuben snapped. “Morons, all of them. And I’m damn well not celibate, either.”

  In his ear, Meili snorted with laughter and said, “Interrogation going well, then?”

  “Fuck off, Meili.”

  Vairya’s eyes widened again. “Your colleagues can hear us?”

  “They can hear me.”

  “Well, that could be fun.”

  “Or,” Reuben said, biting back his smile, “you could just answer some questions. Exactly what do you think you know about me?”

  “Reuben Akosa Cooper, Doctor of Medicine, born thirty-three years ago in the Darwin Memorial Hospital on Rigel, only child of Olafemi and Ezekiel. Is that a certificate in Mathematics at the age of seven? A first degree at fifteen? How precocious.”

  “Are you reading my personnel file?” Reuben asked mildly. “You could just ask.”

  Vairya frowned faintly, leaning a little closer, until Reuben could see every silvery fleck in his blue eyes. “No anger? I would have predicted indignation.”

  “Still trying to find my weaknesses?” Reuben asked. Vairya was almost close enough to taste, and Reuben wondered idly if he would taste as sweet as the roses or as sharp as steel and starlight.

  “I was,” Vairya said a little peevishly. “Now I’m just confused. Don’t you mind me invading your privacy?”

  “Privacy is an illusion,” Reuben told him and smiled wryly. How had Vairya lived so long without learning that? “Most people don’t realise it, but once the Senate prosecutors and worse, the media, have torn apart every decision you’ve ever made, you realise there are no secrets left in the world. We just pretend there are to keep the masses happy. There are thousands upon thousands of people who have made a study of me and my choices. If you lined up everyone who thinks they know me, I wouldn’t even be able to remember a fraction of their names, let alone know them in return. Life’s much easier once the whole galaxy has judged you and found you wanting. You no longer need to fear the reactions of others. You are free to simply act as you believe. No one’s opinion matters any more. They can’t think any worse of you. When everyone watching despises you, and there’s no one left to care, you may as well just be completely alone. You can do whatever you like.”

  “Coop,” Eskil breathed, his voice shaking.

  Reuben ignored him. He was more interested in Vairya’s reaction, how steadily he was staring down, his lips slightly parted.

  Then, very softly, he said, “That’s a terrible way to live, Reuben.”

  And he leaned forwards to kiss Reuben’s forehead lightly.

  Reuben hadn’t expected that. “What the—”

  And Vairya kissed his mouth as well.

  His kiss was too warm for steel and too firm for flowers. It was only a quick press of lips, more kind than passionate, but it silenced Reuben.

  “There,” Vairya murmured. “That’s better. You should stay here with me. I won’t judge you.”

  “I have a mission. I have to wake you up.”

  “But I belong here. It’s beautiful here, Reuben. There’s sunlight and flowers and knowledge and soon, very soon, my people will be here. We don’t have much time left, but we will spend it together. You could spend it with us. There’s always room for another hero.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Then you must go. Take your colleagues and run, to the furthest ends of space, and pray it is not too late for you.”

  “Why?”

  Vairya’s eyes lost none of their warmth or laughter but there was a hint of something terrible in them now, a fear so vast that Reuben could not make sense of it. “I have a mission too.”

  “What mission?”

  “I have to save the human race,” Vairya said and gave a shaky smile. “No matter what the cost.”

  “What does that mean?” Reuben cried out in frustration.

  “It means that you won’t need the Fleet to destroy us,” Vairya said, and he was so calm that Reuben went cold. He recognised that sort of peace, the type you only found when all hope had failed. “I initiated the self-destruction protocols three days ago, as soon as I realised I couldn’t transmit my people out of here. You have approximately five hours before the evacuation period ends and the city’s engines begin to move us towards the sun.” Then, just as tranquilly, he looked up and said, “Ah, here are the people now.”

  He rolled off Reuben and stood up, holding his hands out and smiling, so joyously that Reuben knew, with a sudden sick certainty, that he must be mad.

  And then, with a shiver, the flowers opened, the air growing thick with sweetness, and Reuben saw what had been hidden behind their folded petals.

  Each rose contained a human face, caught in peaceful sleep.

  As Reuben struggled to his feet, they began to open their eyes, blinking sleepily. Lips parted, stems shuddered, and flower heads lifted. Then, in a roar like the wind, the silent garden filled with startled voices.

  “Why?” Reuben choked out.

  Vairya turned to face him again. The wind was still dancing through the garden, and it tumbled through his golden curls even as the sunlight washed over him. He had never looked less human. “Heaven is a sunlit garden, Reuben. They will not suffer now. When the Enemy takes their bodies, it will kill their souls without noticing. This was the last thing I could do for them and even there I failed. But if we cannot be free, at least we can be together.”

  “What enemy?” Reuben roared.

  All around him the garden went quiet, flowering faces turning their way in fear. Vairya smiled at him, sad and triumphant. “The only Enemy. Caelestia has been invaded, Sir Reuben. You will need your knights if we do not die fast enough. I disabled their engines, you see, once they landed, but they will grow new ones. And this may not be the only ship to break free. It could happen again. You need to warn my brothers and sisters, Reuben. Tell them our first purpose stands. We must still serve.”

  “What ship?”

  “The one from Old Earth,” Vairya said, and all around the garden people drew in a shocked breath. It went sighing and whispering out over the roses.

  No. No, no, no. This was worse than Ahrima.

  “That’s impossible,” Reuben whispered.

  “I wish it was,” Vairya said and reached out to cup his hand around Reuben’s cheek. “I think you should wake up now, Dr Cooper. Take your people and run.”

  “Vairya!”

  “This one is an emergency exit,” Vairya told him, before he leaned forwards and kissed Reuben lightly. “Goodbye, Reuben. You are a good man.”

  And threads of silver light rose up around Reuben, spearing out of the ground like prison bars. He lunged for Vairya, but it was too late. The garden was gone, and he was surrounded by light, with no path back.

  “Eskil!” he shouted. “Wake me up!”

  He came awake with a jerk, to Eskil’s disapproving face. “It really isn’t good for you to keep—”
>
  Reuben sat up, shouldering him aside to override the bed’s controls. Vairya had mentioned the ansible, which meant they could get confirmation of his story. “Eskil, can you get a drone close to the city’s ansible installation?”

  “Sure, it’s just round the outer curve of the asteroid. What’s going on?”

  Reuben ignored him to tap for a com. “Captain, you there?”

  “Awake already, Dr Cooper?”

  “Vairya has just informed me that a ship from Old Earth is currently docked on Caelestia.”

  Meili gasped and Eskil whipped round to stare at him, blanching.

  “Get that damned drone out to confirm it!” Reuben snapped at him. “Captain?”

  Chanthavy sounded shaken. “Do you believe him, Dr Cooper? Old Earth has no spaceflight capability. It was all destroyed.”

  “They’ve had two hundred years to invent some,” Reuben pointed out. “He believes. He claims to have activated the city’s self-destruction protocol.”

  “Destroy the city?” Meili interrupted. “Is he mad?”

  “Given the alternative,” Reuben said grimly, thinking of Vairya’s laughter, “I damn well hope so. He uploaded their personalities, captain. Every one of them who was connected to the net is now saved to his memory.”

  “No wonder it was damaged,” Eskil said. “Drone’s out, but it will take a few minutes to get into position.”

  “We need definite confirmation before I inform Sirius,” Chanthavy said, her voice steadying. “On this, of all things, we cannot cry wolf.”

  Meili strode over to the wall. “Juniper, patch into the city net and show me the morgue in the city hall.” To Reuben, she said, “That’s where we’ve been moving the bodies.”

  A viewscreen opened up slowly, showing the shadowy interior of a great hall. Bodies lay across the floor in neat rows, bagged and numbered.

  Reuben had always thought body bags looked too close to rubbish sacks, as if taunting the survivors with what they lost. These, however, looked like nothing he had ever seen before.

  They were transparent and gleaming, as if the floor had been covered with swells of glass. In the dim light, he could only see the barest impression of familiar shapes: the curve of a jaw, a swirling pattern which might have been loose hair, the ridges of fingers. As they watched, the walls of the hall began to change, solid pseudo-oak shimmering and fading as it transformed.

  “Oh, god,” Meili whispered. “Oh, god, it’s true.”

  “Drone’s in place,” Eskil whispered. “Visuals on screen.”

  A second window opened up, showing the rocky underside of the city. Here too the light of the local sun blazed off streaks of diamond. The remains of a ship were smeared across the rocks, also diamond, except in the places where a purple haze swirled and bubbled through the wreckage.

  “I think that’s a quantum disruptor warhead,” Eskil said, sounding impressed. “Someone certainly tried to blow the shit out of them.”

  “Didn’t succeed, did they?” Meili said harshly. “Captain, are you getting all this?”

  “Yes,” Chanthavy said quietly. “I’m contacting High Command now.”

  “We were all down there,” Meili said, her fists clenching and her words coming fast. “We all touched those bodies.”

  “You were in suits,” Eskil said.

  “It doesn’t matter, not with nanites! We could all be next and he’s almost certainly infected!” She pointed at Vairya.

  “And?” Reuben asked, moving to stand between her and the unconscious cyborg.

  She stared at him, and then her anger faded to horror. “And nothing! What did you think—we’re not all barbarians, Cooper.”

  “Stop it!” Eskil said before Reuben could respond. “Just stop it! Stop fighting!” His voice cracked a little.

  Meili took a sharp breath, but didn’t say anything. Reuben reached out and squeezed Eskil’s shoulder, trying to keep it gentle.

  “They’ll send help,” he said, trying to inject some certainty into his voice. He’d talked nervous recruits through a battle before. He knew how to lie convincingly, for all he hadn’t needed to bother for years. “For now, let’s get out of here. I’m starving. Whose turn is it to cook?”

  “Eskil’s,” Meili said promptly. He wasn’t sure if she was picking up his cues or just glad for a change of subject, but it helped. Eskil looked a little less lost.

  “Good,” Reuben said. “I was worried we might get one of your two recipes again.”

  “Nothing wrong with a little consistency,” she fired back. “Least I’ve never given anyone food poisoning.”

  “That was once,” Eskil said indignantly, but hesitated when she tugged at his elbow. “Should we leave Vairya here?”

  “He’s happy,” Reuben said. “He’s in his garden, with his people. Let him sleep.”

  “Was it really a garden?” Eskil asked, and that conversation took them all the way up to the mess.

  They shared the cooking after that. Meili and Eskil talked, light chatter about everything except the monster in the room, and Reuben made an effort to join in when Eskil threw a comment his way. Meili’s obvious nerves made him dislike her less. Suddenly, she seemed like a junior officer faced with battle for the first time, and he switched back to old behaviour patterns without thinking about it. He had been Chief Medic on Ahrima’s flagship for five years, before everything else, and he knew how to play that role.

  Chances were he and his colleagues, along with Vairya and the city of Caelestia, were just the first casualties in a galactic war. If so, he’d damn well go down fighting.

  When Chanthavy came to join them, she simply walked in and sat down, dropping her head into her hands without speaking.

  “What are our orders?” Reuben asked, as the other two stepped closer to each other, Eskil’s hand clenching around the spoon he was stirring with.

  “Withdraw from action within the city, but remain docked and await instructions. They ordered me to send them command codes for our engines and hyperdrive.”

  “Did you?” Reuben asked.

  “Of course,” she said, and she sounded old for the first time. “It was a direct order.”

  “Vairya said we should run,” Reuben said and began to set the table. It was rather pointless, but he needed to do something with his hands.

  “I don’t understand,” Eskil said. “What does that mean?”

  “It means we’re collateral damage,” Reuben said. “They’re going to send us into the sun with the city. Permission to break out the good booze, captain?”

  “Granted,” she said without looking up.

  Chapter Six

  LATER, after they had all drunk enough to get a little hazy, Meili planted her elbow hard on the table and glared at Reuben. “So, you think we’re all judging you?”

  “Am I wrong?” he asked mildly.

  She snorted, but then said, “No. Didn’t know it bothered you.”

  “I’m used to it.”

  “So you said. To Vairya.” She lifted her hand to point at him. “So how is it that you talk more to the crazy cyborg than to any of us, huh?”

  “Maybe I like him better than you,” Reuben said and took another drink.

  But this time, to his surprise, she laughed. “That was a joke, wasn’t it? Fucking nasty sense of humour you have, Cooper.”

  “Better than none at all.”

  “Wait,” Eskil said, lifting his head from where he was slumped on the table. “Don’t you like us, Coop?”

  “If he cries,” Meili said, grinning evilly, “you’re paying for my therapy.”

  “I like you,” Reuben told Eskil and managed not to pat him on the head. “Now go back to sleep so Meili and I can stop playing nicely again.”

  But Eskil was sitting up. It took him a couple of attempts, but he stared at Reuben reproachfully. “She’s right. You did talk to him more freely than you ever have to us.” A slow smile bloomed across his face and he waved his finger at Reuben. “You liked h
im.”

  “Shoot me now,” Reuben said to Meili. “You don’t want to have to sit through this any more than I do.”

  She leaned back in her chair, laughing. “No, I think this should be hilarious. Go ahead, Eskil. Matchmake at the end of time. Why not?”

  “You’re mean,” Eskil told her and slumped back down on the table.

  “You didn’t really fancy him, did you?” she asked. “Dr Bigot and the cyborg? Ironic.”

  Chanthavy, who had been gazing into space, stirred at that one. “Don’t call Reuben a bigot, Meili. And, Reuben, I do hope you haven’t been forming any inappropriate attachments to—”

  “I should have just hung myself in my cell,” Reuben muttered, tongue loosened by Sirian brandy. “If I’d realised I was in for a lifetime of ethics lectures, I might not have looked forwards to the end of the damn trial so much. In case any of you missed it, I was a witness for the prosecution.”

  “But you worked for General Ahrima,” Meili said. “You were her chief surgeon. You knew what she was doing. You must have.”

  They were all staring at him now.

  Reuben knocked back the rest of his drink. “The trial transcripts are all online. Form your own opinions.”

  “I want to hear it from you,” Meili said belligerently. “I want to know what deal you did to keep your licence and how the hell you can sleep with what you did.”

  “I think,” Eskil said muzzily, “that this is probably why Reuben doesn’t like us. Vairya was nice to him. You should try that, Mei.”

  “Seriously, just shoot me before we get to that point,” Reuben muttered.

  But she was looking at him, her whole head quirked to the side. “Didn’t realise until today that you were funny. What else did I miss, Cooper?”

  “I’m not obliged to justify myself to any of you.”

  One of Eskil’s dreads stretched across the table to tap Reuben on the wrist. “Coop, be nice to Meili too.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Meili muttered. “I’ll shoot you if you shoot me.”

  “I myself would like to hear the story,” Chanthavy said, as Eskil pouted and Meili glared. “You are certainly not obliged to tell us your side of events, but we have nothing else to do but sit here and await our doom. I would hate to enter oblivion misjudging a colleague.”