Survive

by Vera Nazarian

The guards just watch us impassively.

  Slowly, Anu gets up. For a moment he stands, glaring at Laronda across the table. If looks could kill, Anu’s eyes hold a deadly inferno. . . .

  Then, without a word, he turns proudly and goes to the servers’ station to get himself another pitcher of scarab beer.

  Laronda appears to be somewhat taken aback. “Well, that was interesting. . . .” she mutters under her breath, looking over at me, Hasmik, Gracie, the rest of us, uncomfortably—while Anu’s away at the servers’, with his back to us. “Whatever. . . . Don’t know what his problem is. Such a prick.”

  “That was kind of harsh,” Gracie whispers to her. “I think he might be upset.”

  “Upset?” Laronda frowns and opens her mouth, while shaking her head at us. “Seriously? All I did was ask to taste the stuff, then he wouldn’t let me—like, excuse me?—so I got the pitcher and he started being a total jerk—”

  “Okay . . . um . . . you kinda went too far,” I say, choosing my words with care. “Grabbing that thing was . . . maybe just a little too far.”

  “You should apologize to him,” Manala says suddenly. “Maybe if you told him you’re sorry, and you didn’t meant to hurt him . . . I think it would make him very happy if you did . . . he cares . . . he likes you so very much.”

  “What?” Laronda’s jaw drops again, as she looks at Manala with a shocked expression. “He what? The guy hates my guts!”

  “No, he doesn’t,” I say with a little smile.

  “Yeah, no,” Gracie echoes me with a silly grin.

  Hasmik just smiles and nods.

  “Crap. . . .” Laronda says, looking closely at every one of our faces and the nuances written there. And then she repeats softly, “Crap, crap, crap. . . .”

  Chapter 44

  Anu returns to his chair with a full, new pitcher of scarab beer, and his expression is still closed off as he pours himself a new mug. He doesn’t look in Laronda’s direction, and resumes eating, but somehow with less enthusiasm.

  We all continue to eat politely and watch him, and Laronda glances at him periodically, with a thoughtful expression. Then our table conversation resumes, and there is a bit of lighthearted chatting about the very tasty fish and other dishes before us.

  “Anu! This is really great, Anu-jan,” Hasmik says, minutes later, pointing to her few remaining guu rolls. “Thank you so much for bringing us here to eat, so good! Reminds me of the best fish in Armenia. We have ishkhan, very famous Lake Sevan fish—farel—I mean, trout.”

  Anu looks up at her and mumbles, “Uh-huh.”

  “Yes, Anu, great choice of eating spot,” I add, and quickly glance at Laronda.

  Laronda widens her eyes at me slightly, but says nothing.

  When our dea meal is done, everyone is stuffed more than usual due to the novelty of the fish experience.

  “I can’t even remember the last time I had such yummy fish,” Gracie moans with a grin, rubbing her abdomen in exaggeration, as we get up from our seats. “Gonna die now, too full.”

  “Gee Four, I’m amazed,” I say with amusement. “You’re so finicky and you don’t like seafood.”

  “Yeah, well . . . this was definitely better than fish sticks.” My little sister gives me a cute but confident look that reminds me she is fourteen and not so little.

  “You should come back here with Blayne.” I watch her fondly and reach out to adjust a wisp of her dirty-blond hair that’s stuck to her forehead.

  “Ooh, good idea!” Gracie’s expression brightens. Furthermore, she lets me touch her without protest. Seriously grown-up, my little sis.

  Anu settles our bill with Shesep who protests appropriately but bows in pleased resignation when the Imperial credit line is used to cover it.

  “Wonderful food, thank you!” I say with a smile, waving to him and the servers and cooks in the rear of the kitchen, who all wave back at us and make familiar gestures to Anu.

  “Shoe-lace Girl!” One of the line cooks calls out from the back sheepishly, and another guy next to him taps him with a large cooking implement. “Happy Bride Show Day!”

  I try not to giggle.

  “Oh, my dear Imperial Lady, my dear Imperial Princess, and all of you charming and delightful ladies and Anu Vei, my good friend—please come back soon!” Shesep calls out praise in our wake as we exit the pleasantly dim interior into the afternoon daylight inferno. The crisp ocean wind and the raw fish smell assails us.

  “Well,” I say, blinking in the white glare despite my protective lenses, “I’ll definitely be coming back here. Great food, Anu!”

  “See, I told you,” Anu says, still keeping it cool and starting to walk ahead of us. “Best fish anywhere.”

  “I admit, it was rather excellent,” Laronda says in a loud voice, walking forward also, so that Anu glances back at her immediately then just as quickly looks away.

  “Hey, Anu,” Laronda says, catching up to him. “Just want to say—good job on bringing us here.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” he mumbles quickly, not looking at her, and continues setting a quick pace down the long stretch of Main Wharf Promenade toward the hover-parking lot.

  “That scarab beer was not too bad, actually,” she continues. “A little too sour and smelly, I guess, but I’m not really into beer in general. Why is it called scarab beer anyway?”

  “Ground scarabs,” Anu says.

  “What?” Laronda exclaims. “What do you mean, ‘ground scarabs’?”

  “I just told you, Earth girl. They put ground scarabs in it when they brew it.”

  “You mean insects? Actual bugs?” Laronda raises one hand to her mouth and glances back at us with horror.

  “Yes!” Anu suddenly snarls at her.

  “Oh my God! I drank ground up scarabs? Is that why it smelled weird?”

  “That was the dung.”

  “Wha-a-at?” Laronda stops in her tracks and slaps Anu’s arm. “There was dung too? I drank insect poo? Are you telling me I drank insect poo?”

  “Not ‘insect poo,’ stupid Earth girl—dung is what the scarabs eat, so it’s already in their stomachs when they grind them, it makes powerful flavoring—”

  “Oh my God!”

  “I told you not to touch it,” Anu says fiercely, stopping also, then coming back to loom over her. “But you did, you stubborn shar-ta-haak Gebi female! It’s an acquired taste, and you are not capable of appreciating the fine fermentation that goes into making it! The special brewers harvest scarabs only after they are naturally dead, so the dung ferments in their stomachs just right, and then they age and dry them for a month, and only then do they grind them—”

  “That is absolutely disgusting!” Laronda yells in Anu’s face. “And did you just call me something I don’t even know how to translate?”

  “It’s not disgusting, you’re just too stupid to appreciate it! And yeah, I called you a shar-ta-haak—”

  “What the hell is that, troll boy? And here I was, feeling bad about earlier, trying to talk and be all nice to you—”

  “Nice? You talk and talk, all right! But you don’t even know the language properly, you ignorant Gebi—”

  “Ignorant? Ignorant? Of course, I don’t know your stupid language, I am an alien, you dense, awful creep! I hate you!”

  “Rawah bashtooh, I hate you too! You, big fat mouth, never shut up, you pushy, useless Earth girl—”

  They are now both shouting in each other’s faces, so that passersby turn to stare at our group. And the next moment something crazy happens. . . .

  Anu reaches out and swipes one hand through Laronda’s hair—whether it’s accidental or not, hard to tell.

  Laronda grabs Anu’s segmented ponytail—whether it’s accidental or not, hard to tell.

  It is unclear who does what first, but suddenly both of them have their hands waving and slapping at each other, and then they literally grapple, and the next second Laronda’s mouth is covering Anu’s mouth, and then Anu’s mouth is all over Laronda�
��s mouth. . . .

  They are kissing.

  Heaven help us, they are kissing.

  It happens very quickly—just a crazy whirlwind of limbs and faces pressed together—and then they both come apart in horrible shock. Anu appears stunned and turns a bright shade of red, his pasty white skin flaring with fierce, awful color like an Earth neon sign. . . . Without saying a word, he sprints away from us, heading for the hover cars in the nearby lot.

  Laronda stands frozen in equal shock, and her dark brown skin doesn’t show her blush the same way, but it’s definitely there, because she is holding her own cheeks with the palms of her hands.

  “Okay—what just happened?” Gracie asks.

  “Not sure, janik,” Hasmik replies to Gracie, then looks at Laronda with worry. “Laronda-jan, are you okay?”

  Laronda slowly turns to us, and she seems to be trembling slightly. “I—I don’t know,” she says.

  We surround Laronda, and just let her deal with the moment, just breathe and regain control. The guards hang back, giving us some tactful privacy.

  “What did I do?” Laronda repeats softly. “I don’t know. . . . So screwed. . . . What did he—what did we do?”

  “A good thing!” Hasmik says, pressing her arm and shoulder with affection.

  “Yes, and I’d say it was something you should’ve done a long time ago,” I echo, rubbing her back gently.

  “I am so glad!” Manala says meanwhile, her face bright with excitement.

  “God. . . . Where did he go?” Laronda says. She still appears dazed as she stares in Anu’s wake—his quickly moving figure is now far away from us, nearly lost in the pedestrian crowd.

  “He took off, probably because he’s just as affected as you are,” Gracie says. “He’ll be waiting in the car, I bet. . . . Don’t worry.”

  Laronda shakes her head, and laughs in incredulity, apparently at herself.

  “We should probably be getting back too,” I say, with a glance at the others, and at Tuar and the guards.

  And, on that note, we head back.

  When we get to the parking area, Anu is indeed seated in the driver’s spot in the front row of the hover car. He stares straight ahead at the control panel before him, and the moment we start opening doors and getting in, his face—really, his whole complexion—flames bright red once again.

  Tuar takes the other seat next to him and gives Anu a meaningful glance. “You okay?”

  “We’re going to the Imperial Poseidon Museum,” Anu replies in a hard voice without reacting to the question. “That’s the next stop for the Imperial Bride.”

  “Okay, great, let’s go,” I say.

  “How many more stops after that?” Gracie asks.

  “See for yourself,” Anu says in a strange, shell-shocked voice, and without turning around passes us the digital tablet.

  I turn around to look behind me, concerned for my friend.

  In the very back row, sitting alone by choice, Laronda stares thoughtfully at the back of Anu’s head.

  The remainder of Bride Show Day goes by in a kind of general daze for everyone. We drop by the gorgeous stone façade of the Imperial Poseidon Museum building and I get interviewed by the media on the marble steps—we don’t even have to go inside (even though Manala wants to, but we’re pressed for time).

  Then we fly over the cityscape further inland where a beautiful hilltop view greets us at one of the suburbs located at the foothills of the Great Nacarat Plateau. It’s another park, and another set of media reporters.

  “Happy Bride Show Day!” the locals call out to me as I pass and wave.

  All this time, Anu and Laronda act like stiff, awkward strangers to each other, and dazed to the rest of us. They stay as far from the other as possible, keep to the opposite sides of our grouping, and pretend not to acknowledge or look at one another. And yet, all they do is look, stealing careful glances and intense, quick stares.

  I admit, I’m worried about Laronda and yes, about Anu too. And so are the rest of us. They’ll just have to deal with the complications, with each other, and I can only guess it’s going to get even more interesting.

  It’s fortunate that we soon finish the last Bride stop of the day, and it happens to be at the park entrance to the Imperial Palace complex. Various media reps waiting near the park gates greet me with another chorus of congratulations as I turn around one last time for all their network feeds, catching the last of the teal sunset light for great effect. Only one more effort is required of me to appear cheerful after a long day, and then I’ll be free. And so, I wave and grin, then enter the Imperial Palace, followed by my companions and guards.

  When we get out of the private elevator on our floor and enter the workroom of the Imperial Crown Prince’s Quarters, it is packed with people.

  Seems like every daimon I know is here, and a few strangers too. They all crowd around the data centers, watching the displays, scrolling through feeds, checking their wrist units. Conversation is limited. But mostly everyone is focused on the biggest display screen in the room, the one that always shows the Rah Station.

  Aeson stands among them, with his arms folded, staring at the view. When I come in, he turns around with a complex expression of relief, turbulent emotion, and thoughtful, grim solemnity.

  “Gwen!” he says with intensity, stepping toward me.

  “What?” I say at once, noticing the conflict in his eyes. A pang of nerves stabs my gut. “Did something happen?”

  And even before he replies, I manage to get a good look at the view on the screen, and it is fire—burning haze and nebulous gases churning pink and blue and incandescent white, bursts of debris swirling against the backdrop of black space. Pieces and chunks of solid materials float and collide, metal and rock and dust. . . .

  In moments, some of those pieces become recognizable. Somewhere behind them is the charred surface of a now familiar planet . . . and the grid of golden lights. . . .

  Except—the great grid of lights is no longer there.

  Where is it? Where did it go?

  Wait, no. . . .

  I was wrong—the great grid remains.

  It’s still clearly visible from the vantage point of Helios, while the angle of the present view has changed—is still changing—as it slowly floats in panoramic rotation. Whatever orbiting space buoy camera is recording this moment, it has panned across to focus on a slightly different sector of space.

  And the reason for this new camera angle presents itself, amid the churning plasma gas and debris.

  A smaller new grid of light objects has formed near the planet Rah. Unlike the immense grid structure around Helios, this one is not planetary-scale but relatively tiny—only a couple hundred kilometers or about twenty Atlantean mag-heitar across—and its light object components are much smaller too, similar in size to Atlantean ark-ships in formation. The general shape of the array resembles a square, or diamond, or possibly a four-ray starburst.

  But at this point it’s really hard to tell. . . .

  Because most of this array structure is in turmoil, and its individual components are roiling all over the place like angry bees—bees ejecting fire.

  This hive of smaller golden light objects fills the visual background, ship-sized spheres darting so swiftly that the eye cannot catch individual ones. Even as they move, more fire seems to shoot out in radiant starbursts from each, and the resulting radiation blasts everything in its vicinity.

  Rocks and metal and dust and fire.

  Blooming like flowers . . . beautiful tiny supernovas. . . .

  “What happened? What is that? Is that—” I begin.

  And then my lips part, breath halting, as I understand.

  These are the physical remnants of Rah Station.

  Aeson takes my hand, crushes it almost painfully. “You see this?” he says. “Rah Station has fallen. We’re under attack.”

  Chapter 45

  All the earlier events of Bride Show Day, everything that happened th
is afternoon—Laronda and Anu’s amazing confrontation followed by kissing, our fun, carefree meal, the happy sights of Poseidon—it all dissipates in an instant. . . .

  Terror slams me, hard.

  I stand immobilized with existential vertigo and look at Aeson, at the fiery debris of Rah Station on the big display screen. . . . Meanwhile, my friends crowd behind me, keeping near the workroom entrance, even as I glance back at them in nervous reflex.

  With a troubled expression, Hasmik holds Manala’s arm protectively. Gracie and Laronda frown, stalled in indecision as to whether or not they should approach the work area where so many high commanding Fleet officers are present. . . .

  With my peripheral vision I see Anu hurry forward to join Gennio and the others at the secondary desk. I glance at him stupidly, and notice how this latest shocking development has managed to shake him out of his embarrassed, awkward stupor in regard to Laronda, as he immediately asks questions and becomes the usual businesslike Anu.

  “Come, Gwen,” Aeson says, still keeping my hand tightly in his. “Take a seat.”

  “It’s okay,” I mumble. “Please, just tell me what happened.”

  “It started about an hour ago,” he says, guiding me to a chair regardless, and I sit down, numb with stress. “We received an urgent transmission from the Rah Station Nomarch that something was happening with the alien light grid. ‘They are breaking formation . . . breaking apart into smaller components . . . moving closer to us and reforming,’ Nomarch Rertu barely had time to say, before the transmission was cut off.

  “Unable to regain his audio signal, we focused on the visuals of the Rah Station. For a few moments, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Sensor sweeps of the region of space around Helios showed no new activity. And then, we saw this new diamond array visible on the other side of Rah.”

  Aeson pauses, fingers pressing mine painfully as he forgets himself. “The new array of lights—this thing—it just appeared out of nowhere. And just as suddenly it erupted with plasma fire. Multiple powerful energy beams struck the station all at once. . . . Just a few heartbeats, Gwen. Maybe five, maybe three. That’s all the time it took to obliterate an immense structure of metal, hundreds of docked ships . . . thousands of people.”