by Alex Douglas
It was a pleasant afternoon, watching the Aldorians at their sport. No one had managed to ride the beasts for longer than thirty seconds, so Flack, when he reappeared after his shower, was slightly mollified. The twin suns were casting long shadows on the ground when Glitch decided she'd have a go. "Get me the biggest one," she told the owner. "I have a theory I'd like to test out."
"Hope you brought spare clothes," Prez said, looking at the dusty floor of the arena, where more puddles of shit had appeared as the afternoon went on. The red birds were swooping down and trying to land, but the owner shooed them away. The crew all cheered loudly as she took center stage and was helped onto the crate; the Aldorians copied and raised their voices too. The beast she was to ride was an enormous male with dark brown hide, no bells tied to its horns but a gold ring through its nostrils. Prez watched her eye the creature and felt slightly worried. She was so tiny next to it, it might crush her under its thick hooves.
But when she got on, it didn't even move. It looked around for a moment then carried on munching at the grass, and its tail flicked a little harder. She sat on its back and beamed around at the astonished crowd until over two minutes had passed, and when it became clear that there was to be no sport, the owner and his helper lifted her off and onto their shoulders. "We have a winner!" he proclaimed, and the crowd cheered again.
They presented her with a trophy, a tiny golden pok on a stand, and a hand-crafted pouch full of pactishe. "I'm pretty light," she said, when all the euphoria had died down. "I thought a big one like that might not notice my weight. And it didn't."
"You are remarkable," Deral said. "You have set a record today that will never be broken."
Falgon was looking at the Tablet she'd been carrying in her satchel. "It is good timing," she said. "We will return home now. A message has come from Felia. Lan is awake."
Chapter Thirteen
The bedroom was dark and smelled of air that had been breathed too much. Lan looked around, dazed. His mother was sitting beside him, stroking his hair, her eyes damp. His body was weak and his tongue swollen with thirst. She dipped a spoon into a bowl of water and tipped it through his cracked lips. The sensation of the liquid on his tongue was incredible, like sipping on life itself.
He remembered little of his time at home, just the horror in his father's mind when he'd appeared at the door, but he hadn't cared. He'd just wanted a bed to lie in, to sleep, to feel nothing. And now...
Another spoonful of water. His tongue tingled. The numbness in his body was starting to thaw and for the first time since Flack had appeared, he felt a little like himself. But why? His mother's love was radiating from her mind and its warmth was like nourishment. Not the reaction he had expected when he'd fallen into bed, his mind wide open for them to see everything that had happened, unable to care about what they thought because it didn't matter anymore.
Why?
You are my son.
He saw the images in her mind of himself as a child: running through the sprinklers on a summer's day, crying after burning himself on the grill and his little hands reaching up to be swept into her arms, falling out of the hover vehicle as they pulled out of the parking area at the shopping center. The accompanying emotions: love and pride, horror and fear, and the overwhelming desire to protect.
What has occurred?
There had to be a reason that he'd woken from the death sleep. He'd been so close to slipping away, but something had pulled him back from the brink. She set down the bowl of water and lifted another. Just some ground cereals in milk, but the few spoonfuls settled in his stomach quickly, and he was full. She took his hands in hers and warmed them. Then he saw a picture in her mind that brought sudden tears to his eyes. Prez, white-faced and exhausted, sitting on his bed, stroking his hand.
It was a dream?
No. He is here.
He pushed himself up against the soft pillows until he was in a sitting position. His wasted arms ached, but he felt a little strength all the same. She wiped her eyes and stroked his hair, and he heard music in her mind, the same songs she'd sung when he was a baby.
He is not unwilling?
No, he is not. But there is a darkness in his mind. He carries a deep shame I cannot understand. Perhaps you can help him.
There was a noise from downstairs, the sound of footsteps, laughing and cheering, and someone imitating the bellowing of a pok. Lan looked toward the door. His father was not there but he was nearby, his mind open and full of conflict. There as a faint smell of pactishe wafting in, and Lan realized his father was as high as a faloah bird on a strong wind.
He is angry?
Yes. But my opinion will become his in the end. Do not worry. You will always have a home here.
Voices and footsteps echoed on the stairs, followed by the familiar voice of Glitch. "I'll treasure this little pok forever!" Then a knock at the door. Deral's head poked around while the others -- it sounded like the whole crew from the Outcast talking all at once -- went upstairs to the living area. Deral smiled and nodded.
Welcome back, brother. Someone is waiting to see you. I will return later.
Felia stood up and kissed Lan's curly head. "Come in," she said, and Lan was startled to hear her voice. She hadn't spoken aloud in years. Then the door creaked and Prez entered, looking very odd in Aldorian robes -- dark blue and loose with a pattern of gold -- stitched crescent moons. Lan recognized them as the night robes Deral used to wear and smiled, a warm feeling creeping into his heart.
You allowed him to go out in child's pyjamas.
He is small.
She kissed him again and went to the door, pausing behind Prez and winking.
And he is aesthetically pleasing.
Mother!
"Hey," Prez said as the door shut behind him. "You're awake."
"I am awake," Lan said. It felt odd to speak again, and his voice was slightly hoarse. He reached for the water and took another sip. Prez sat down on the bed, pulling at the robes. They were starting to gape, and Lan could see the orchid at his throat, the dusting of hair on his chest.
"Well."
"I am sorry."
"For what?" Prez looked surprised.
Lan looked into the burnt orange eyes and felt his heart start to beat harder. A good feeling, the feeling of life. And yet, he still felt guilty. Despite what his mother had believed, he still had some misgivings, as if he was trapping Prez in some way into something he did not want. "You have been inconvenienced by my behavior. I am..." he paused to think of the appropriate word, "...ashamed."
Prez lifted Lan's hand. "You haven't inconvenienced me," he said. "Well, apart from clearing off without a word. That's not how we say goodbye."
"It is not."
"No."
"I did not wish you to be troubled by releasing me from my contract."
Prez laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I didn't want to release you."
"But Flack..."
"Flack's my co-pilot. But there are a lot of things that need doing. There's certainly room for one more."
"You should not create work in order to make me feel... wanted."
Prez covered his face with his hands for a moment. "I could kill you," he groaned. "What gave you the impression that you weren't wanted?" He stared at Lan for a moment and bit his lip. "Maybe this'll convince you." He put his hands on Lan's shoulders and kissed him on the forehead, again on both of his cheeks, his nose, then finally he closed his eyes and touched his lips against Lan's. It was the briefest of contact, but enough to start a fire burning in Lan's stomach and he closed his eyes for a second, suddenly, blissfully happy.
"You're all spotty," Prez wiped a tear away from his eye. He clasped Lan's face in his hands and they touched foreheads for a second. "Don't ever scare me like that again," he whispered. "Promise."
"I promise," Lan said.
Then Prez hugged him, and he hugged back, and it was a wonderful feeling to be pressed against Prez's warm body, to smell the freshness of
outside on his neck and hair. Unbelievably, he felt a tingling in his crotch, and realized that his heart was pumping madly, sending blood to all the wrong areas. In his weakened state, he felt dizzy and ill-equipped to deal with it.
"I wonder," Lan said, when Prez had released him. "Perhaps you can offer some advice on the management of a penis. It appears to do as it pleases, and I do not dare to ask my father or my brother for... information."
There was a shaking in Prez's shoulders, then he threw his head back and laughed. "Oh man," he said, clutching his belly. "I've missed you. You're so innocent, you know?"
"Innocent?"
"Tell you what," Prez said, lowering his voice and winking. "When we get back to the ship, I'll manage it for you. How does that sound? I'd offer now, but your father's lurking around upstairs, and I don't think he likes me."
At the mention of his father, Lan felt his mood dip a little. "It is not you he dislikes."
Prez shrugged. "Well, you just get better, do you hear?"
"I am getting better by the minute. You are here."
"Lan... why?"
"Why what?"
"Why did you... why me?"
Lan considered the question. "I do not know," he said. "It is illogical. I could not control it. Do you consider yourself... unworthy?" There was a silence and Prez looked away. Lan felt the darkness flooding his mind and shivered. Had he offended with his honesty? "I do not mean that you have no obvious attributes," he added hastily.
"I know what you meant," Prez said, chewing at his thumb. "You can't help who you fall for, I know that." Then he seemed to shake himself and the darkness eased a little. He took Lan's hand in his and smiled faintly. "Someday I'll tell you a story about that. But you concentrate on getting your strength back. I'm going to need someone with muscles to load up the cargo bay before we leave. Glitch has bought at least a thousand pairs of shoes."
Lan gaped for a moment, then Prez laughed and ruffled his hair. He smiled and took another drink of water, feeling the life coursing through his veins. Knowing that Prez had missed him was the best medicine in the universe.
***
The living area was a blue-painted room at the top of the house, airy from the open windows, and decorated with plump cushions and small tables with silver-colored shells on top. Flack stubbed out a smoke into one of the shells and flopped back on the cushions he'd amassed under his bulky body. "Man," he sighed. "This pactishe is some stuff. I think my brain is flying."
"You've got a brain?" mumbled Kris, chewing on his finger. "I've lost my mouth."
"That's good news," Vaxel said. Glitch was already asleep, nestled up beside him with an arm flung over his chest.
Deral smiled languidly. "It is pleasing that you find our ways to be fun."
"Fun?" Flack said. "I might never leave, if you keep cracking out the smoke."
They were watching a broadcast about the sea off the coast of Aldor's southern continent. The screen was dark and swam with phosphorescent squid and fish that glowed electric blue and red, and tiny creatures that clustered together around the tangled weeds at the bottom, flickers of light that flared and died as they fed on the leaves.
"We should go diving there one day," Falgon said, and there was a murmur of lazy agreement.
Prez watched Lan sitting at one of the tables, stuffing lumps of savory cake into his mouth and slurping at some of his mother's amazing soup. Already he looked healthier. His skin no longer had that saggy look, and he was putting on weight. It was hard not to, with the iced dessert that Felia kept bringing up, something that Lan had apparently enjoyed as a child and hadn't lost his taste for. Prez rubbed his belly and closed his eyes. He didn't remember ever feeling so contented.
He'd gotten used to the silence of being with telepaths, and had lost the urge to fill it with meaningless conversation. Especially when there was pactishe around. It seemed to encourage the talking of nonsense, and he was happy just to listen. He smiled as he drifted off into a haze of happiness and relief, that Lan was alive, and almost well again.
The broadcast ended, and another began. It was the news. With one eye open, Prez watched idly as the Aldorian newscaster read in a musical voice, words he could not understand, but enjoyed listening to all the same. It was a calm and melodic language, quite like the people themselves. He watched footage of a new shopping mall opening, a clip of a game involving long sticks and floating balls, then...
"Akilia!" exclaimed Flack.
There was no mistaking that gray sky in the background of the capital city, the conical buildings, the general look of decay. The president of Akilia was leaning on a podium, her face twisted with another outbreak of the familiar red tumors. And beside her, a ku-tah, a brown-haired man staring into the camera with a smile on his face...putting his hand on the shoulder of the president. Prez sat up, rubbing his eyes with shock.
The Aldorian voiceover provided little clarification.
"Can't we hear what they're saying?" Prez said, suddenly frustrated. There'd been almost no news since the last word of "talks" between ku-tah representatives and the Akilian government. Some transports had left, bearing several hundred ku-tah to Andra, but the majority had apparently stayed put.
Deral clicked on the subtitles, and suddenly everything was clear. The ku-tah was addressing a large assembly of people outside the conical presidential building in the capital city. He spoke the lisped Akilian that all ku-tah did, those who hadn't been born with an appropriate tongue, while a red subtitle flashed underneath.
"What does it say?" Vaxel asked.
"It says... Fresh hope," Lan translated.
"Friends," the ku-tah was saying. "This is a historic day. A new hope has been born for this dying world." He reached down off camera and re-appeared, holding a baby in a green blanket. The view zoomed in on its gray face, the tuft of gray hair on its head fluttering in the wind. Its eyes were closed and its face squashy looking, but it was distinctly Akilian in appearance. "My daughter."
There as a pause and a shocked intake of collective breath, followed by muttering that swept through the assembled Akilians, some of whom were in moving chairs, their legs scarred and useless.
"My daughter!" He shouted over the noise. "The first child born naturally to an Akilian and a ku-tah with no interference from the Doctors! My wife, a Warden at the compound where I grew up, the first to marry outside her social constriction! And this child is plague free! Friends, hope is not lost. Akilia's Doctors tried to force a cure from alien bodies but we have provided it through our love!" He wiped his eyes and coughed. "The time for hate and retribution is over. We are among you now. Do not be afraid. Akilia may yet survive."
"Have you ever heard such shit?” Vaxel muttered as the president prepared to speak.
"Friends," the president said. "The Closure of Akilia will go ahead as planned. We will not have the media of the universe picking over our corpses, we will not have the IPF medical staff descending on us for more experiments on our tired bodies, we will not provide entertainment to those who would see us die in public!"
There was a cheer from the crowd, and she held up her hands.
"But behind our closed doors... all of you are free to make your own efforts. Our time has almost come to an end. There will be no more judgment."
"That's it?" Kris said. "Some endorsement that was."
The cheer died back to a muttering, and the camera switched to a view of a space port where a large group of ku-tah were gathered, watching the broadcast with sneers on their faces. A close up of one, a banner in Aldorian underneath, announcing the speaker.
"I recognize that guy," Flack said, turning to Prez. "Chet. Wasn't he in the labs with us?"
Prez was stunned. "I think so," he managed to say. It was so long ago, and he'd tried so hard to forget. But there Chet was, talking into the microphone in his mangled Akilian, so like Prez's own. Dark hair like Prez's, brown eyes, slim build. People often said they might have been brothers.
"That baby is a
n abomination," he was saying. "And that talk of love and friendship is self-deluding garbage. Our friend forgets that the Akilians are our abductors, our oppressors, our torturers. This traitor has slept with the enemy and he will find no home among us! Let Akilia pay the price for its backward ways and its crimes and rot! We are free!"
A huge cheer rose from the people gathered behind, and the view switched back to the Aldorian newscaster who was apparently explaining the background to the story. There was a brief shot of a small blue planet, then the Aldorian turned to a guest speaker and began to talk. Prez heard little of it. There was a buzzing in his ears, a nauseous wrench in his stomach. "Have to go outside," he muttered and stumbled over the cushions in the direction of the door and out.
"Prez?" Flack called after him, but he didn't listen. He didn't want to look upon the faces of his friends because maybe they would look back and see the secret he'd tried so hard to bury for so many years, shining out of his Akilian eyes.
The truth that he too, was a traitor.
Chapter Fourteen
Deral and Falgon watched Prez's departure with a mystified blur in their minds, then turned to Lan.
What has occurred?
I do not know.
Lan's skin prickled with cold and he rubbed his arms, thinking of the sudden chill he'd felt in Prez's mind. Worse than usual, and deeply disturbing. He considered following him outside, but he was still too weak to manage the stairs on his own. And it seemed as if Prez wanted to be by himself. The bowl of soup was almost empty, but he'd lost his appetite for the rest.
"Leave him," Flack said eventually. "He'll be okay when he gets some air. Stuff about Akilia always upsets him."
"Yeah," Vaxel said. "We've all got our stories."
Glitch started awake and rubbed at her eyes. "What did I miss?"
"Nothing," Flack said. The news was over, and it was back to the bottom of the sea. He took another smoke and lit it. "Man," he said. "I wish..." But he didn't finish his sentence.
