Survive

by Vera Nazarian

  They come apart, and Devora turns to me. We embrace gently, and she whispers in my ear, “Take care of him . . . live.”

  I nod, and hold back the lump in my throat.

  Dad watches and inclines his head to the Imperatris in slow acknowledgment.

  And then we turn to go.

  “Wait!” Hasmik says suddenly. “We have a custom. Before we go on a journey, we must all sit, for good luck. Everybody, quickly, sit down!”

  My family, friends, and astra daimon exchange amused glances, but the solemn mood is definitely broken as we all perch on furniture to sit down for a count of three seconds.

  And then we head to the Green Zero-G Dance.

  Our shuttle flight is short and briefly uncomfortable as we plow through the atmosphere and experience the heavy pull of Atlantis gravity—as though the planet is trying to prevent us from leaving, dragging us back down to itself. And then, suddenly, it all falls away . . . we are light and weightless in orbit, as we approach the grand X shape of the Atlantis Station.

  Dad immediately breathes a comfortable sigh of relief and chuckles softly, mumbling something about gravity and old people. Gracie, who’s been hanging on his arm like a little girl and not leaving his side, pulls at Dad’s sleeve in mock outrage.

  The Station floats like a metallic talisman before us, silhouetted against the black velvet of space. It’s lit up in bright twinkling lights along its four immense platform “arms” and especially around the central hub with the Resonance Chamber, which is our destination.

  In moments, the shuttle docks at one of the arms, next to hundreds of others, elegantly avoiding other flying traffic. The moment it does, Atlantean full gravity returns, as we become synched with the Station. Next, the hatch opens, with a whoosh of sterile air, and we are greeted with distant laughter and music. We leave our travel luggage behind in the shuttle for later retrieval and enter a long corridor full of enthusiastic, youthful people dressed in every imaginable shade of green.

  Aeson and I walk ahead, holding hands. It’s interesting to watch how, as soon as other passersby notice my husband, they stop and salute sharply. Here, Aeson is not the Crown Prince of Imperial Atlantida, but the Commander of the international Star Pilot Corps—their Commander. . . . Seeing all the looks of respect and admiration he receives is so gratifying that my heart melts with pride for im amrevu.

  “So, this is where you go to work nearly every day?” I ask with a playful smile.

  Aeson nods, arching one brow. “The actual SPC Headquarters are on the opposite side of the hub, but, yes.”

  “Whoa, this place is huge!” Gordie says behind us, pointing at the long endless arrow of the corridor before us, with occasional cross-passages visible along the walls.

  “You haven’t seen anything yet,” Erita retorts, exchanging humorous glances with Xel, then Ker and Oalla right behind her.

  As we move along the corridor, the sound of music grows louder, and there is a pulsing dance beat coming from up ahead. With it, come the deep, thumping bass beats echoing throughout the hull around us. At the same time, green flickering radiance starts to fill the view before us.

  I feel an immediate surge of raw excitement. . . . Memories of other “Zero-G Dances past” stand up like happy (or simply emotional) ghosts in my imagination.

  So many intense memories and youthful wonder. . . .

  Passion . . . heartbreak . . . unrequited love . . . hope . . . desire. . . .

  We emerge at last, directly into a huge, cavernous sphere full of green light that’s the Station Resonance Chamber—an immense interior space that’s amazingly even greater than the resonance chamber on ICS-2.

  The equatorial perimeter of the sphere has the usual narrow walkway full of crowds and drink stations, DJ and lighting booths, while the center is a bowl of pale green light, full of gently floating greenery far below. I look closer and realize it’s an optical illusion of treetops stirring in the wind, creating the sensation that there is a great forest under our feet. At the same time, overhead, the ceiling dome resembles an ocean of shimmering seaweed, delicate filaments floating down like green spider silk.

  And everywhere, jade light orbs swirl, like champagne bubbles.

  “Holy cannoli!” Laronda says, punching Anu’s arm that she’s been holding. “I haven’t been here before, only docked with the Station on the outside and seen some boring SPC offices. But this is mind-blowing!”

  “Yeah, it is,” Anu says curtly. “Not so fun to run diagnostics on all those resonance tiles.”

  Laronda laughs. “Must be a billion of them.”

  “Actually, there are seventy-nine thousand-three hundred—” Anu begins to elaborate, but Laronda widens her eyes and glares at him, making troll boy swallow his words.

  The pulse-pounding music emerges from the walls of the amazing green expanse filled with people, at present dancing under normal gravity on several flat dance platforms levitating in the middle of the floor. There are Atlantean Fleet veteran personnel mingling with newbie shìrén Cadets. Sounds of laughter, light conversation and the stomping of feet come from that direction.

  The music itself is a vaguely familiar Atlantean pop song currently played in Poseidon. Moments later, it is replaced with a recent Earth hip-hop song in French.

  We move past the crowds along the walkway to the nearest station that’s giving out the couple locator pins.

  The crewman working the station sees Aeson and immediately comes to order and salutes. “Commander!”

  “At ease,” Aeson says in a calm voice, and the crewman relaxes, nods with precision, then gives Aeson a pair of glowing green pins. Aeson takes one and pins it on the front of my dress, while he attaches the second one on his own uniform.

  “I don’t think we’ll need those things,” I say with a smile. “I don’t plan to leave your side even for a moment tonight.”

  “I know.” Aeson looks at me with raw intensity. “But—keep it, just in case.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, and run my fingers over the pin on my collar, which is momentarily blinking quickly as I step away to test it, and then shines steady with proximity, same as the one on Aeson’s lapel.

  “Well, this is extraordinary,” my Dad says, moving in right behind us and leaning near my ear. “Gwen, sweetheart, I’m going to find a seat and enjoy watching all of you. What can I say but, ‘In Xanadu did Kubla Khan a stately pleasure-dome decree . . .’”

  “. . . ‘Where Alph, the sacred river, ran, through caverns measureless to man, down to a sunless sea!’” I continue the Coleridge poem verse and laugh. “Of course, Dad! You should definitely sit down, because they’ll start tweaking gravity soon!” I give Dad a sound kiss on the cheek and leave him with Gracie who starts explaining the locator pins to him while Blayne waits with amusement, hovering upright on his board.

  Just then the song ends. There is a lull of silence and then, from the walls, a mischievous female voice of the Music Mage utters, like a seductive nymph:

  “Gravity changing now. . . .”

  In that moment, the familiar energizing notes of an old Earth classic, Enya’s “Orinoco Flow,” pour from the walls of the chamber . . . even as the floor lightens breathlessly underneath our feet.

  I glance behind me and, a few steps away, my sister Gracie’s long hair is suddenly floating like seaweed in the light gravity, to match her mermaid costume.

  “My Lady Oalla, honor me with this dance.”

  Aeson and I both stare with wonder as Keruvat makes a short, elegant bow and stretches his hand out to Oalla.

  “My Lord Keruvat, the honor is mine,” she replies with a soft smile, looking up into Ker’s very black eyes.

  And the next moment, they take hold of each other and float away, taking a great leap over the endless abyss of floating treetops below and land on the closest dance platform.

  “Hey, ’Ronda, let’s go!” Anu says gruffly a few steps away, awkwardly jabbing Laronda in the side.

  Laronda makes a sma
ll shriek, then grabs both of Anu’s hands, while he pulls her with surprising agility along with him for the couple leap to the dance floor.

  Aeson and I look at each other and laugh.

  A few minutes later, gravity is changed again, and this time we experience complete weightlessness as a lovely Atlantean tune plays, full of reed pipes and soft drums. Aeson and I join hundreds of other couples floating in the expanse of boundless green light.

  We stare in each other’s eyes with a kind of warm, quiet contentment, living completely in the moment.

  “Gwen . . .” Aeson says to me as we float and spin along with the rhythm and I observe the slightly feverish sparkle in his eyes. “You are the only thing real right now, you know? There’s nothing . . . only the sight of you.”

  In that moment he pulls me to him. His lips descend on mine and his mouth sears me with the knowledge that indeed, there is nothing and no one else.

  The song ends and gravity blooms back into being. We descend gently to the floor and return to the perimeter walkway near the seats where some of our friends are taking a break, just as the mood changes and a fast and hard song fills the chamber.

  “Oh! Oh!” Dawn says, tapping George on the shoulder. “That’s the Gebi Girls! Have you heard their music yet?”

  “The whatsit whats?” George cranes his head slightly with a quizzical expression, then sets down his drink on a ledge.

  “They’re a recently formed band, an all-girl group of Earthies. Either four or five women in the band—I forget. They play their own instruments and sing some really good stuff, do pop covers of both old Earth and Atlantean music, and have original material too, like this song—”

  And Dawn starts to dance in place.

  “All right, I can get used to this sound,” George says, nodding slowly and listening. Behind him, Gordie stands leaning against the wall, and slurping his covered drink from a metal straw. He seems out of it, which is not too unusual for Gordie. A few steps away, Chiyoko, Hasmik, and Manala are seated quietly with their own drinks, while Erita stands over them.

  Why is everyone not dancing and just milling about? I think.

  Just as I’m about to intervene with my girlfriends and get them off their butts, Xelio, Radanthet, and Nergal show up. The three daimon all look elegant in green jackets—Nergal, slim and tall, Radanthet much shorter, powerful and stocky.

  “Ladies, look who’s here!” Erita says loudly with a snort. “Rad-Rad! Will you dance with me already?”

  Radanthet chuckles and comes up to Erita, taking her by the arm. “Let’s go, amrevet!” And just like that, they take off to the dance floor, even as Erita turns around and waves to us saucily.

  Xelio and Nergal exchange amused glances.

  Nergal looks around and his gaze alights on my brother Gordie. “Ter Gordon,” he says, stepping up to my brother politely. “Will you dance with me?”

  There is a long, strange pause.

  Gordie stops slurping and turns his head, then raises his brows. “Huh?” he says, frowning at Nergal. “That’s kind of weird. . . . But, yeah, sure, whatever.”

  And just like that, Gordie sets down his drink on the ledge near George’s drink, and with a shrug heads with Nergal to the nearest dance platform. He doesn’t exactly hold hands but just sort of mills in place, across from Nergal.

  Both George and I stare in his wake with dropped jaws.

  “What . . . was that?” George asks, and his jaw is still unhinged. “Did I miss something?”

  “I don’t know!” I say with a dazed look. “Honestly, I don’t know anything. . . . Either I missed it too—missed it entirely—or that’s just our Gordie.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think he’s gay,” Dawn says calmly. “But he’s pretty damn cool, if you ask me.”

  “Not as cool as we can be,” Xelio says with an amused glance at Aeson. “I’d ask you to dance, Commander Kassiopei, but I think your lovely Wife would not approve.”

  “And I would dance with you under any other circumstance, Pilot Vekahat,” Aeson retorts without skipping a beat. “But tonight, I dance only with im amrevu.” And Aeson winks at me.

  “Well then, I must nurture my broken heart in another way,” Xel says. His searing gaze, full of sensual humor, moves down the row of seats and he walks the few paces, stopping before Hasmik. “My Lady, you remain my last hope. Will you join me in this dance before the dance itself fades away?” And he makes a small, mocking flourish with his hand then stops it abruptly before Hasmik’s startled face.

  At once, Hasmik looks up at him and shakes her head. “Oh, no,” she says with a gentle smile. “No, thank you.”

  “Come, now!”

  Is there just a tiny note of frustration in Xelio’s otherwise smooth tone?

  But Hasmik persists, shaking her head negatively and then looks down at her lap, continuing to smile.

  “Well, my dear, suit yourself,” Xel says with a peculiar expression briefly showing on his face, and steps away.

  Manala watches the exchange with intensity and nudges Hasmik. “Why?” she says with earnest eyes. “Why did you say no? You should dance with him!”

  But Hasmik shrugs and says thoughtfully, “He called me a Lady, janik. I am not.”

  Manala sighs. “At least he asked you. . . . No one ever asks me.”

  “Gravity changing now. . . .” The mysterious voice of the Music Mage sounds just then, and gravity falls away completely.

  A soft Latin rhythm sounds, and I vaguely recognize another wonderful Earth classic, “La Isla Bonita” by the glorious old diva Madonna.

  My brother George stands up. There’s one beat of hesitation, and then he walks calmly over to stand before the seated group of Hasmik, Chiyoko and Manala.

  “Imperial Princess Manala,” he says formally, leaning down, reaching out with his hand and simply taking hers. “Tonight is different. Dance with me.”

  Manala stares up at George with an absolutely stunned expression. For a moment she actually appears at a loss.

  But then, slowly, she gets up, her golden hair floating in weightlessness like a halo—since George is still holding her hand and not letting go.

  “Yes . . .” Manala says with wonder.

  George simply nods in answer, with a serious expression, and takes her other hand in his, pulling her closer . . . and they soar, floating upward, elegant and solemn, circling together against the green radiance.

  Chapter 94

  We stay in the Resonance Chamber for another half hour, dancing, laughing, reminiscing, slowing down and just watching friends and people we know in glimpses around the immense chamber.

  Blayne and Gracie take full advantage of zero gravity and spin in the air with carefree, relaxed smiles. Chiyoko chats with Gennio down on the walkway about something very technical and utterly engrossing. At one point I see an interesting sight of Brie Walton dancing with Logan Sangre, whom I haven’t seen since the Wedding. The way they are looking at each other, and the way he holds her waist and leans in closer to her face with focused intensity puts me in mind of how Logan used to look at me. . . . Which now only leaves a gentle, mild memory.

  And then it’s almost Midnight Ghost Time. The Zero-G Dance is winding down, and it’s time for us to leave.

  I hate this part.

  We don’t say goodbyes. Instead we look and smile and nod at one another as, one-by-one, my friends slow down, stop dancing, come up to me, come up to the others and say a word or two of encouragement before heading out to their missions.

  “You go do your Logos voice magic thing,” Laronda says with a sudden hug, clinging to me. “I expect a full defeat of those crazy alien spherical dingalings. Remember, while you do your stuff, we’ll be here on War-1, all the Earthies backing you up. No one is getting past us! Atlantis is under our protection now.” And Laronda makes a fist pump.

  “Good luck, Gwen!” Chiyoko says, hugging me next. “I don’t know how we do it, but we are going to kick their golden butts.”

  �
��Agreed,” I say to Chiyoko warmly. “Fly well, my Pilot Partner!”

  Chiyoko blinks and widens her eyes. . . . She takes a deep breath then nods. “Always.”

  “We homo sapiens are tough bastards,” Blayne says, levitating on his board next to Gracie and handing my sister a napkin because she is starting to bawl. “Right, Lark Two? Don’t make me a liar now, pull that snot right back up the sinus and show it who’s boss.”

  Gracie immediately chokes and transitions to giggles instead.

  “I expect a full accounting of all the events when you get back,” Dawn says to all of us, standing nearby. “Don’t disappoint me. If possible, take selfies with aliens.”

  I shake my head and smile. Then I glance at Dad, who is sitting quietly a few feet away in one of the wallflower seats and watching all of us with an indescribable look of love and pride. I notice that he has his bag with him on his lap, and he’s holding onto it with both hands.

  Manala, Hasmik, George, and Gordie all look around, seeming lost for a moment. Then they focus on each other, on the rest of us.

  Since their dance, Manala periodically casts weird little glances in George’s direction but doesn’t say anything to him. On the other hand, she also constantly turns to Hasmik to express another concern. “Khemji . . .” Manala keeps saying and wringing her hands. “Oh, I’m so worried they won’t feed him right! Khemji likes his food to be mashed to a very fine consistency. It must be pureed! He doesn’t like chunky—”

  “Hey, don’t worry about Khemji.” Dawn overhears and comes up to pat Manala on the arm. “I will look in on him regularly until you get back, and your Mother did say she will feed him very, very well on your behalf. . . .”

  Now, the astra daimon approach and gather around us in a circle.

  “Are we ready, Commander?” Oalla asks in a suddenly solemn, crisp tone.

  Aeson looks around at all of them, then turns to Oalla. “Daimon!” he says formally in a ringing voice. “Oalla Keigeri! You are my Guiding Star. Take care of Gordon Lark and support him on his mission. Saret-i-xerera!”