Pilgrims

by Darcy Pattison

  Jake squirmed uncomfortably because Norio had never complained about anything. And because this time, Norio was right. Why were the family servants still on the planet? Jake squirmed even more at that thought. By agreeing with Norio, Jake was admitting to himself that Swann was wrong. But the Prime Minister had never been wrong. He was the one person that Jake trusted without reservation. Swann would be taking everything into consideration, even things the servants didn’t know about. If the servants were here, it was because Swann had a reason. But what could it be?

  “I don’t know if he’ll listen to me,” Jake finally said.

  Norio kept his eyes steadily on the road. “Just try. He’s a stubborn man, but, well, just try.”

  Jake nodded. “We’ll discuss it. I can’t promise anything more.”

  Turning his attention to the city, Jake was shocked. As they drove slowly across town, people thronged the streets as though everything was normal. Every man, woman, teenager, child, building, vehicle, shrub, walking pet or flying equivalent of Earth’s birds was soot-stained. A fine layer of ash lay everywhere like an itchy wool blanket. In places that might not get disturbed, like an alley, the ash was several inches thick, as if there had been an unnatural snowfall. The central food market had piles of vegetables and fruits protected from the ash by plastic sheets. The afternoon theatre had a long line waiting for the box office to open. And the playgrounds were full of screaming and laughing children. Some people wore masks, but most didn’t. It seemed to be life as normal, if a bit dirtier than usual.

  Norio explained that chaos threatened at every turn, and Swann worked extra hard to make sure everyone was safe from the threat of daily violence. In some countries, governments had collapsed, and it was everyone for him or herself. In Killia, though, daily life continued with dignity in the face of disaster. But not without inflicting great stress on its leader.

  The gloomy ride across town deepened Jake’s worry. It was one thing to know that volcanoes were everywhere on a planet, but to see throngs of people walking through the ash-filled air while trying to breathe, that was something else.

  At the Quad-de estate, servants immediately stepped forward to open the car doors for the team of Earthlings.

  Looking up, Jake smiled ruefully. The courtyard was swept clean of all ash, something that must keep three men busy day and night. Swann probably justified it by saying that he was keeping three more families fed. It was life as usual. As if they weren’t about to be blown up.

  Emotions swelled as Jake looked up at the ancient house. Built about 200 years ago, the Quad-de’s mansion was built with locally quarried granite and marble and roofed with slate—all igneous stones, of course. Pale pink granite made up the walls and the arches in the center that led to the interior courtyard.

  Norio strode across marble flagstones and threw open the massive ten-foot doors. Looking at Jake, his face vacillated between a smile and a frown before he whispered, “Welcome, home.”

  Jake’s heart swelled with joy. He was home!

  On Earth, it had been easy to start to feel like an Earthling. He enjoyed his Earth grandparents, the Earth high school, and Earth friends.

  But here, that all melted away. This solid, stone house, hundreds of years old, it was the foundation of his life. Every stone used to build it was igneous. Born of fire. It was Risonian through and through. Like Jake.

  “Let me give everyone a tour!” he called happily.

  They left their luggage in the car for the staff to sort out and deliver to rooms. Everyone followed Jake, including Norio, on a quick tour of the house. The upper floor, which was on ground level, was living areas: a large gathering room, a well-used library of both digital and print books, a dining room with a massive table, a tiny room of refreshments that were kept replenished all day long—Jake stopped to grab a candied wolkev and even remembered to offer one to everyone else—and a huge conference room with a table made in four parts so it could be arranged as diplomats’ whims dictated.

  The next floor down held the bedrooms, and Norio quickly showed each person his or her assigned room. They continued the tour, though, and when they came out on the bottom floor, they turned left to the kitchen. It served the dining room with trays sent up a shaft on pulleys, rather like a dumb-waiter in the castles that Jake had visited in Scotland.

  Excitement pulled at Jake, though, as they went back to the stairs and turned right. He explained to the others: “The estate is on the edge of a cliff face and the house is built partly above water and partly under water.”

  A long rectangular room was walled on three sides. The last side, though, appeared to be a long rectangular pond with stairs the length of the room that led down into dark water. The fourth wall, which rose above the water, was bare rock. Norio flipped a switch and lights along the edges of the steps suddenly lit up, inviting them to step down into the water. It was like walking down into an amphitheater, except the stage was submerged.

  Jake always thought of it the other way, though. When he walked up out of the water, it was like walking onto the stage. Anyplace where Swann sat transformed into a theater. At one end of the room, a thick multi-colored rug set off a large space.

  With a twinge of pride, Jake said, “This is Swann’s desk.”

  Swann had other desks and a massive office upstairs. But he liked to be in the middle of the household, in what he called his day-office, to watch who came and went, and to be interrupted all day, to be in the thick of things.

  Jake’s throat tightened when he saw a framed photo on Swann’s desk. Dayexi was laughing up at Swann, who hugged an eight-year-old Jake. It had been his birthday and for once, they’d left town, taking a picnic lunch. They ended up on a cliff overlooking the sea, where they picnicked. Norio had been with them and took this picture. Jake had always kept it in his room, but he hadn’t been able to pack many pictures when he evacuated to Earth’s moon. He had others of Mom and Swann, but not this one. He vowed to himself that he would take it back to Earth this time. With difficulty, he pulled himself away from the nostalgia of Swann’s desk and put on the bright smile of a tour guide.

  The marble floors slanted, almost imperceptibly, toward the steps. Jake explained, “When you come up, any drips will slide back into the water.”

  Captain Bulmer strode to the water’s edge, bent, and touched it. He rubbed his fingers together as if he could tell a chemical composition by feel alone. “Warm. Clean.” He nodded at Dr. Mangot.

  She eyed the water with longing. “I’d love to swim. But not yet. Not till we see how it goes with the diplomats.” She nodded to Jake. “I’d like to go to my room and rest.”

  The others agreed, so Jake went back to the second floor with them and made sure they knew how to find their bedrooms.

  Norio said, “I’ll help them get settled in. You can go explore.”

  With a grateful smile, Jake nodded. He slipped downstairs and stepped into a changing room. From a stack of extras, he pulled on a pair of swim shorts. Back out in Swann’s day office, he walked down the lighted steps into the water.

  Rison. Home.

  The water covered him and filled him and soothed him and excited him. For months, he’d longed for these waters and not known it. His water breathing through his gills came easily. Home.

  Underwater, the rooms repeated what was above ground: dining room, refreshments room, gathering room, and conference room. They wouldn’t use the underwater rooms this week though because of Dad. The Phoke would be fine, but not a human.

  Jake lounged on the chairs in the gathering room, not wanting to go up and dress for dinner. He sank into an attractive and comfortable lounge chair made of compressed seaweed and closed his eyes. How many times had he longed to be here? And now, he was here and Swann was not. He closed his eyes to rest for a few minutes.

  Jake woke to a familiar sound. He remembered visiting his grandparents, Swann’s parents, at their underwater estate. There, his grandparents used an old language to communicate. I
t wasn’t speech, but a series of clicks, whistles, and grunts. Well, it was speech, but not words like English or Spanish or Chinese. Earth’s international phonetic symbols couldn’t record Risonian sounds. Underwater, vocal chords don’t generate sound waves in the same way as they do in air. Instead, ancient Risonian speech was a complicated series of sounds created by clicking teeth, clucking the tongue, and using low-pitch grunts that transmitted well through the water. It was called the Old Speech, and for those who only lived in the seas, it was the only language they knew. And of course, planet wide, there were many dialects. As Risonians colonized dry land, though, they developed speech more like Earth languages. For a thousand years or more, most of Rison spoke Earth-like speech, and Old Speech had become rare. Jake wondered if it was like the mermen changing their name to Phoke. The utility of either name was fine, but Phoke was an updated name that meant you weren’t old fashioned.

  For Jake, Old Speech was the sound of holidays. Of family storytelling, gossip, and singing.

  Someone was calling him, saying, “Jake Quad-de, are you truly home?”

  His eyes flew open. “Swann!”

  Instantly, he was on his feet and hugging his step-father. He gulped and clung, desperately trying to not cry. His earliest memories were of Swann and Mom, Mom and Swann. He saw the strong, athletic man that Swann had been, battling through strong currents to pull Jake back to the beach where they were vacationing. Jake didn’t know why that image came to him out of the swirl of memories, but for a moment he wanted to feel Swann tugging him out of danger to a safer place. He shivered, and the feeling was gone. The ache which remained weakened him for a moment so that Swann really was holding him up. He straightened, sad that he was older now and wasn’t allowed to be a child.

  Finally, they both stepped back to look.

  The dying planet had aged Swann. He was bare-chested and only wore swimming shorts like Jake. His once strong chest and arm muscles appeared shrunken, as if he was self-destructing from within just like this planet.

  “Are you OK?” Jake asked carefully. Underwater, his voice didn’t carry well, but Swann understood. They could talk, but for a real conversation, they’d need to go up to the air.

  Swann said. “Fine. Just tired.”

  Jake sank back to the lounge chair and pulled Swann to sit beside him. “I’m here now. Let me help.”

  Swann pulled him into another hug before answering, “No. You have your own mission. I won’t let my worries stop you from helping the Phoke find the cure they need.”

  Jake knew Swann was right; he had to concentrate on the medical mission. For Em’s sake, yes, but also for the sake of all Risonians who might or might not be allowed to live on Earth, depending on the results of this mission.

  He nodded. But he kept his eyes on Swann’s face. “The medical mission is my priority. But I want your promise on one thing. You will escape this planet and not stay behind.”

  Swann smiled and reached a hand to touch Jake’s chin. “You’re going to need to shave soon, aren’t you?”

  Jake understood. He was half Risonian and half Earthling, and Swann was just his step-father. More important, he was the Prime Minister of the largest country on Rison. Their paths were different. Had always been different.

  But Norio was right to be concerned. Did the servants have to share Swann’s fate? He forced the question out. “Why are the servants still here? I expected Norio to meet me at the Cadee Moon Base.”

  Swann shook his head slightly, as if confused. “But I’m still on the planet. Why would my servants be on the moon?”

  “Because they trust you and expect you to evacuate them in time.”

  “Oh.” Swann’s eyes opened wide, startled. “Oh.”

  “You were going to send them away soon. Right?” Jake pressed.

  “No,” Swann said simply. “I hadn’t even thought about it. I’m so busy—how would I eat if the cooks went off-planet? I wouldn’t have clean clothes and the house and gardens—” He trailed off.

  “Just don’t leave it too late,” Jake said softly. He’d already said too much, already caused Swann to criticize himself for wanting his household to be in order as usual, for wanting to cling to the familiarity of normal.

  Grimly, Jake said, “Promise me. You will escape.”

  Swann shook himself, and then stood to pull Jake upright. Swann ran his eyes up and down. “You’ve grown! How tall?”

  Jake glared, wanting to pull the right answers from Swann. Grudgingly, he said, “Five foot, ten inches in Earth’s measurements.”

  “So. Tell me about this young Phoke woman. Em? Is that her name?”

  “Emmeline Tullis.” Jake knew that Swann was deliberately distracting him from the issue of evacuation. But he also knew that he’d lost the argument because Swann would do his duty—whatever that was. “She’s amazing.” He’d been wanting to have this conversation about girls with Swann for so long. They strolled back to the stairs, and up into the air. They shook off water. Jake ran a hand down each arm and leg to wipe off extra beads of water. Swann did the same thing. They sat on lounge chairs. Jake took his time telling Swann how he met Em at a coffee shop, how she wanted him to join the swim team—stopping to explain the swimming competitions—and how hard it was to resist.

  Swann didn’t take his eyes off Jake while he talked. Finally, Swann said, “I have this one piece of advice. Follow your heart.” He paused and a sadness stole over him. “I should’ve followed my heart long ago and maybe things would’ve been different.”

  “Are you talking about Mom and—Blake?” Jake was suddenly embarrassed because he’d almost used the name Dad instead of Blake.

  Swann shrugged. “And much more. But let’s talk of better days.”

  “Hello?” Dad—no, it was Blake while they were on Rison—stood in the doorway.

  “Here,” called Swann.

  Blake strode forward and shook Swann’s hand.

  They both look grim, Jake thought. I wish my dads could be friends.

  Blake’s lips were thinned, and he looked ready for a fight. “Why didn’t you meet us at the space port?”

  Shock at Blake’s rudeness made Jake step closer and put a hand on Blake’s arm.

  Jake shook his head.

  Blake pulled his glare from Swann and squinted at Jake. “No,” he said. “This is important. He hasn’t seen you in three years, and he left the airport before we arrived.”

  Swann inclined his head and said in a frigid voice. “My son is home.”

  He emphasized the “son,” and Jake saw that it was like a stab at Blake.

  “And I’m here to celebrate that,” Swann continued. “But I have many duties that pull me in many directions. When you were delayed, it gave me a chance to visit the nearby hospital’s burn ward. All our hospitals are full, but especially the burn wards. We never know where a new volcano will form and many people are caught.”

  “Oh,” Blake said and blinked. He was tall, 6’2”, but Swann’s height made Blake look short. “Still. The fate of your world. . .” He trailed off.

  “It looks dismal, doesn’t it?” Swann said agreeably, as if he was talking about a weather forecast. “Of course, in the long run, it doesn’t matter that I stopped by the hospital. But for those people, for that single moment. . .” He stopped, clenching his fists, and obviously held back a surge of emotion. “Lately, it seems, we only live for today.”

  Embarrassment flooded Jake. “Blake, drop it!”

  Dad wrinkled his forehead and whispered, “You were so disappointed when he wasn’t there.”

  “But I understand.”

  “That’s it,” Blake said. “You’ve always had to understand that you weren’t important to him.”

  Swann’s hand flew up in a gesture of warning. “You know nothing, Earthling, of what Dayexi and Jake mean to me.” His words were deliberate and slow. “Say no more. Or, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

  Blake stepped back, and Jake almost felt sorry
for him. Swann’s threats were legendary in Killia, and Risonians knew that he backed up every one of them. If you forced Swann into a situation where he threatened you, it didn’t bode well for you.

  Blake was a Navy man, though, trained in evaluating combat situations. And knowing when to retreat.

  He turned to Jake and asked lightly, “How do we know when it’s time for supper?”

  The kitchen, at the other end of the floor, smelled of spicy fish and vegetables, making Jake’s stomach rumbled. He hoped there would be wolkev pie. “Should be soon,” Jake said. “I’ll gather everyone when it’s ready.”

  “Then I’ll be in my room,” Blake said. He turned and trotted up the steps.

  Swann murmured, “Wise man. He retreats so he’ll live to fight another day.”

  Jake’s heart ached for the two men. His two fathers were the major conflict of his life. His mixed heritage meant he was pulled by conflicting loyalties: the fight floor v. the basketball floor. Bainbridge Island v. Killia. Wolkevs v. apples. The office of the Prime Minister v. the duties of a Commander of the U.S. Navy. Respect v. respect. Love v. love.

  Jake didn’t want either side to win or lose.

  Welcome home, he thought wryly.

  Godzilla

  Wind whipped the cove’s water into white-capped waves.

  Utz helped Derry Rudak down the rough slope. A flimsy red scarf flapped around her head. In exasperation, she stopped to tie it tighter. Utz found himself enchanted by this beautiful Tizzalurian. Ebony hair, thick eyebrows and the clearest complexion he’d ever seen gave her a fresh look. He was aware that his own stocky build was a contrast to her slim figure.

  Cautiously, Derry stepped forward with her right leg, balanced, then dragged her left leg down to meet the right. She paused to catch her breath, then repeated the steps. The leg brace on the left leg was hidden under her pants, keeping her upright and mobile, but she was far from graceful.