A Simple Kind of Mirror 2:Chasing Destiny
DISCLAIMER and COMMENTS:See part 1.
Part Two: Chasing Destiny
Seven days later
The comm blared in short angry bursts, waking Eri from her deep sleep. One look at the link on her bedside table told her she had far overslept into the morning of her day off, and she cursed herself for wasting the time. Shivering in the room's chill, she crept from her bed and hurried to the comm panel. There was a coded priority communiqué waiting in the queue. Surprised, she checked the source: General Miloslo Vayel. Her breath caught and her stomach clenched. Milo! Why was it coded? Only if it was something to do with…he had never sent her any Watch transmission before, so what was so important that he would risk it, especially on her mid-level security system? They had always been so careful, because, as Milo explained it, there would always be those whose weakness and cowardice would try to smother the actions of loyal patriots.
She reached clumsily for her pad which she jacked into the panel and set it to download. It would be safer to view the coded transmission on standalone, as she didn't want to compound the risk Milo had taken. When the download was complete, she ran the sequence decoder that Milo had given her earlier, and waited for the message to appear. When it did, her breath caught and she frowned. But there it was in stark glowing letters on the pad's small screen:
SECURE DATA AND REPORT TO ME
She blinked at the message in surprise and bit her lip, but finally she shook her head and keyed the kill sequence. The letters vanished and she dumped the memory to erase it entirely.
She lay the pad down and immediately began to dress, haste making her fumble with the enclosures of her uniform. Before she left her quarters she paused before the mirror and stared at her reflection: this must be it, she thought. We can't fail now.
CAPTAIN ERI VRI, the access panel outside Milo’s quarters flashed after she had been scanned, but the door did not slide open. Puzzled, she stood at attention, with her cap tucked neatly beneath one arm. In her right hand, she clasped an attache filled with cryptcases of her research. At the lab, she and Ry had ripped every last bit of their research onto cryptcases and safely locked them into the flat metallic container, which she now clenched nervously. The microts passed, and she bent to be re-scanned and again request entry. When she did, she was startled to see the message: PLEASE WAIT. She frowned and straightened. And waited.
Finally she heard a chime and the door slid open with a soft hiss. But there was no Milo to greet her. Instead, she found herself facing a stocky Ridean with an ugly face whose features were the exact opposite of Milo’s gaunt, supercilious visage and his tall, thin stature. The Ridean brushed past quickly without bothering to acknowledge her. She looked away from his departing back and hesitantly peered at the room beyond before stepping through the entry. Her gaze swept one side of the long narrow chamber and then the other until she found him at the far left. He stood ram-rod straight, facing the wide bubble window, with his hands firmly clasped behind his back. She barely noticed as the door hissed shut behind her.
She took a steadying breath. "Sir."
He did not turn; instead he raised one hand and beckoned her forward. Puzzled, she moved to the far end of the chamber until she stood before the window beside him.
At last he turned to glance at her briefly; his eyes glittered with excitement. "Walk with me, Captain Vri."
She put the attache down on the floor and followed him as he stepped forward and touched his fingertips to the panel beside the window. As he did this, the bubble window parted down an invisible seam in the middle and retracted, allowing them passage onto a wide terrace that ran around this entire level of the housing complex. The low-walled promenade was one of the privileges of Sector A quarters.
A cold wind blew off the ocean in the distance and whipped at Eri's neatly coifed hair. Out here, she could not hear the soft whine of the bubble window closing; instead she heard the steady hum of the city that spread out before them. It was a gloomy wilderness of tall rectangular buildings and squat bunker-like structures that housed military and research facilities as well as the standard government space. Ruefully, she looked up at the leaden sky and wished that Aikeno Station would launch its experimental satellite network to control the weather soon—the capital had already had 52 days of cloud-cover and rain this cycle. The cisterns were overflowing and the engineers had already had to divert two serious floods that threatened New City.
Milo turned to her, his gray hair flying in all directions from the steady crosswind that swept the terrace. There was an air of suppressed excitement about him that she was unused to seeing. She knew that General Vayel was considered a cold, stern commander, and a strict disciplinarian. Milo had never been chilly towards her, though, treating her instead as daughter, and sometimes like a confidante. She had always enjoyed his good temper, even as his subordinates often saw the rough side of his tongue. He was known as a formal, dispassionate Ridean—a perfect officer—but nevertheless he could be exceptionally warm-hearted, and he had always been very generous to her. So she was doubly puzzled by his odd, taciturn behavior this morning. She wondered if perhaps she had failed him somehow, or failed their cause.
Casually he touched the emitter at his belt and immediately the wind died. Eri looked at Milo in surprise. She opened her mouth just an instant before she realized that he had engaged a privacy screen. Her mouth snapped shut, although the questions danced on her tongue. That stealth field technology was restricted to only the highest levels of state, military and science. But it was also only rarely utilized, because it was immediately discernible. Use of a privacy screen clearly indicated secrecy to any observers, and secrecy invited questions.
Milo met her her gaze, barely suppressing his almost gleeful agitation.
"It is done," he said.
She stared at him for several microts. "What do you mean?" she asked finally.
He arched an eyebrow at her in triumph. "Today we launch three carriers to the west on a heading toward the origin of that signal. E.T.A. is in four standard days."
"But what about the Council?" she asked incredulously.
He smiled dismissively, and waved a thin, long-fingered hand.. "That has already been addressed. Three council members were taken under house arrest this morning and their cooperation has been secured. We have nothing to fear from the Council. What is it? You look surprised! Perhaps you don't realize how long we have been planning for something like this..."
How could they do all that—in only a few days? Eri suddenly felt very cold. This level of activity was far beyond her expectations. She had no idea that the Watch had such power beneath its command. Their cooperation has been secured—the Watch had detained and coerced elected representatives of the Ridean people! For the first time, she felt a twinge of doubt. "And the carriers' mission?"
He laughed. "Seek and destroy, of course. They have specifically been charged with eradicating the source of the signal." He turned then and smiled down at her warmly, taking her chilly hands in his own. "We owe this to you, Eri. It was your data that allowed us to come up with a target and formulate a plan of attack. We've wanted to do something about this Mer problem for a very long time—to take decisive action rather than sit on our hands like the Council would prefer."
"What is the target?"
"A large island that our analysts have determined is the source of the signal. We believe the signal represents an offensive measure, so we're not taking any chances. I'm sure that your own research has shown you that the signal's activity has increased during the last eight days, which I find alarming. So we know they are stepping up their activities. Who knows what kind of nefarious plan they are hatching against the fatherland?"
Suddenly two things crashed down on Eri like a thunderclap and she flinched before she could stop herself, but Milo did not notice. First and most important, Kel was somewhere on those islands! If she was interpreting Milo correctly, this would be a bloody mission; she knew it would matter little to most if some dirty Mers were killed along the way: everyone hated them. Only, she knew Kel was out there somewhere, and she couldn't bear to think of him dying because of something she had set into motion! Why hadn’t she considered this eventuality? Now...now it was too late. And two, they really had no idea what that signal was; that it was dangerous and offensive was pure speculation. She ought to know, as it was her research! The Watch was reacting to something they did not know or understand—of that much she was certain. And whenever there were unknown elements in an equation...this could end in disaster. And Kel could die.
Her mind raced as Milo gazed out contentedly at the canyons of the city. "If it is possible," she began cautiously, and swallowed. "I would like to go with one of the carriers."
Milo turned to her, astonishment written on his gaunt face. "Eri! Are you certain? It could be quite dangerous, you know—we have no idea what those filthy Mers are capable of."
She nodded shortly. "Yes, I am quite sure. I would like to be there. After all, it was my research that has brought us to this point."
"Yes, quite true." He studied her solemnly for a few microts, and then the chill and formality faded from his eyes. "Well, my dear," he smiled warmly, "I had not accounted for your courage. I am proud of you, and yes, of course you may go with the carriers, but you will have to hurry, as they are set to depart shortly. I will alert the Admiral that he is to wait for you, but not for long. We cannot afford any delay, nor any mistakes!"
"Yes, sir." She came to attention and saluted him crisply. Milo had always been so good to her, she thought sadly. She realized that if something went wrong, she may never see this man again.
He softened as he gazed down at her with the proud smile of a father. "Come now, why so formal? Let me kiss you, my dear, and then you must go." He leaned toward her and kissed her on both cheeks. With his hands on his shoulders he looked down at her fondly.
"Thank you, General," she replied, ducking her head. He clucked at her reprovingly, and she looked up. "I appreciate this, Milo."
"Go, Eri. There is no time to waste!" He released her and disengaged the privacy screen. A huge gust of wind blew her hair free from its confinements and whipped it into her eyes, causing them to tear. Blindly, she forced herself to turn and walk away, nearly shaking with terror at what she was contemplating. But she realized that this was her opportunity to find out if Kel was still alive…and maybe she could persuade him to come back. That thought alone helped her to square her shoulders and push the fear into a corner. That was her mission: bring Kel back.
=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=
The following day
Paala closed her eyes as the first rays of the nearby star lit her face in the red dawn. Her hands stilled and hung motionless in space, her fingers intertwined in the plaits of her hair. Finally, she sighed, her face basking in the warmth of daybreak, and she finished the braid on one side of her head before beginning on the other side. The hair beneath her fingers was rough and rust-streaked with age, no longer the shimmering tawny gold of her distant youth.
The secrets of that youth still tormented her, all these hundreds of cycles later. She had too many secrets, even secrets that she had hidden from the islanders. Awful memories haunted her, and sometimes the guilt was overwhelming. Yet she could never reveal her crime, or she knew she would be exiled from these good people as the murderer she was. Perhaps it was only her strong instinct to survive, but she still felt that she had something to give back to the universe, or despair would have forced her to end it all long ago. Instead she had spent the intervening centuries trying to atone. It would take the rest of her life to make reparation for the damage she had done.
None of that! She shook off the self-pity as she finished the braid and tied it firmly. Her arms dropped loosely to her sides as she turned back from the doorway of her small dwelling. Quickly, she shed her robe and nightdress, exchanging them for her customary wide-legged pantaloons and a loose, flowing long-sleeved tunic. She thrust her feet into worn sandals and then turned again toward the doorway.
She left the small dwelling place and struck out down the path to the dunes tufted with high waves of dune grass that rippled in the wind. She could feel the wind reshaping the sand around her. Over the cycles, she felt as though the wind had reshaped her, molding her into an image of its own making. What that image was, she could not say.
Paala made her way among the dunes, until finally she came over the crest, and the dawn-kissed shining sea lay before her, its waves rolling in across the sand. She felt herself drawn to the sun's warmth and the seductive sound of the gentle surf on the beach. A trail of light footsteps followed her in the sand as she made her way down the dunes toward their base, where she stopped and lowered herself to her knees. Arranging herself comfortably, she lay back in the sand, her hands crossed easily across her belly. She closed her eyes, although there was no real need to, and shutting off her external feed, she sent her inner sight winging heavenward. The prayers spilled from her lips almost unconsciously, in praise of the new day, of the sun, of the vibration of the molecules of the universe that surrounded her and filled her.
Let my Spirit rise up...
It was not long before her breathing slowed and she felt her consciousness sink to the necessary working level. Gradually, across the interminable trembling space between the exhalation of one breath and the intake of another, she felt the separation, like the first curl of smoke that rises from a ritual smoke-scent pot.
Let my Spirit rise up before You, like the pleasing scent of incense...
The separation of spirit from body required little effort now; it had been over twelve hundred cycles since the day she had left the Sanctuary and abandoned the outer ceremonies of her training. Once she had realized how to harness her talents, she had found that she no longer needed the rituals the Sisters had painstakingly taught her…
Some time later she stretched and sighed deeply, once more ensconced within her body. This morning, for the first time in days, she had managed to shake the sense of foreboding that had been her constant companion. The attacks had not stopped, however, if anything, they had increased in frequency and severity with each passing day. She felt as though something inside her was straining to burst free and...become. As though her physical body was melting away. It was bizarre and frightening, but she had no idea what to make of the sensations. Perhaps if she’d stayed amongst the Sisters at the Sanctuary, they could have told her what was happening to her.
A little prickle then intruded on her awareness and she turned her head in the sand to see the figure cresting the top of the dune. She rose, the sun pleasant on her back.
"Kel," she said warmly to the young Ridean who had become an acolyte of sorts, and a friend, over the last three cycles.
"Paala," he smiled, brushing back a tendril of dark hair that had escaped from the two braids he wore in imitation of his teacher. He was tall and straight, with gold-green eyes beneath thick eyebrows, a ready smile always playing about his lips. He had been a gift to her, a welcome companion, and a eager student.
She turned slightly and lifted her face to the sky, feeling the glow as though from within. She forced herself not to look down to see if she actually was glowing from within—she didn't want anything to ruin the beauty of the moment.
"They are almost here," she said softly, not needing to turn her head to feel Kel come to stand at her side, so they faced the dawn together, shoulder to shoulder. So often there was no need for words between them. She felt his light touch on her arm for an instant, and then he had left her side to make his way down through the dunes onto the beach, where he quickly shed his wide-legged trousers and tunic. Fondly she watched as his slim, muscled body, limned by the rising sun, leapt forward to meet the glistening blue waves. It was such a beautiful vision that she ached to see it: the sun, sand, surf, sky—and the child who frolicked joyfully amidst the natural splendor.
For Kel was like a child to her, although among both his own people and the Mers, he was accounted an adult. He had come to the Mers as a seeker, desperate and lonely, hungry for a different way of life. She had seen it happen countless times over the last hundred-cycles she had been on this planet (and on others), and she knew that it would continue long after she had gone.
Now she was unable to contain the laughter that bubbled up inside as she watched Kel leap and dive among the waves. It was a glorious sight. Finally, he lay on his back on the sand, his arms stretched out to either side as if to embrace the whole world. She sighed and then her gaze jerked heavenward, a slight crease marring her forehead. A cylindrical shape burst through the great dome of the sky high above.
She didn't need to look back at Kel to know that he was already scrambling to his feet. In moments he was at her side, hastily clad, and they were running hand in hand up the soft slippery dune slope.
=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=
The last eight days had been tiring and stressful. In an effort to sleep soundly, Aeryn had pushed herself to her body’s limit when she took exercise, so that each night she fell into bed thoroughly exhausted. In conjunction with her attempt to combat the nightmares, Zhaan’s madness had left everyone with strained nerves. Aeryn’s ill-temper had increased daily until she found that she could barely utter a civil word. That is, if she spoke at all. Everyone had pretty much stayed away from her, Crichton included, once they had realized that it wasn’t worth the verbal artillery or the frosty silence she maintained when she ran out of angry retorts. She wasn’t entirely sure where all the fury was coming from, yet a small part of her acknowledged that she was out of control. And of course, loss of control meant she might slip and make mistakes. She ignored that voice. Her training had already failed her.
They had kept Zhaan confined to her quarters—it had been too dangerous to let her out—during the days it had taken Moya to arrive in orbit around Paala’s planet, a blue-green orb called Meridea. Aeryn had insisted on piloting the pod down onto the surface; neither D’Argo nor Crichton bothered arguing. By that point they were too worried about Zhaan’s wild fluctuations between near-catatonia, homicidal lunacy, and extreme delusion. Before they’d administered the sleep agent, Aeryn had gone to Zhaan’s quarters and stood carefully beyond the locked gate, watching from the shadowed corridor. Even after she heard the vitriolic filth furiously spewing from Zhaan’s mouth, she refused to admit, even to herself, the hopelessness of the situation
When they had emerged from the pod Aeryn had halted in her tracks, nonplussed as she looked out at the small crowd that had come to meet them. She froze: they all looked Sebacean! Something icy clenched inside her as she flashed back to the last Sebaceans she had seen in the Cloister. She forced herself to keep walking, and as she drew closer, she realized that although these locals were probably related to her species, they were not Sebacean: their eyes had an unusual pigmentation: gold-green irises, every one of them. Except the female who stood at the fore of the crowd: she was definitely not Sebacean, and Aeryn recognized her from the dream she had shared with John and D’Argo. Tall and willowy, the alien female was clad in loose garments with a reddish braid hanging over each shoulder. Her eyes were large, luminous green ovals that tilted upwards at their outer points, and her skin was velvety gold. Those eyes had locked onto Zhaan's limp figure cradled in D'Argo's arms, and with one sharp gesture she indicated that the tall Luxan should follow her. A path opened up within the small crowd and D'Argo followed Paala through the tall grass down the slope.
As Aeryn looked away from D'Argo's departing figure, she met the gold-green eyes of a dark-haired alien male who stood in Paala's vacated place as the crowd began to trickle away. He gazed at her steadily, and she found herself admiring him despite herself. As soon she recognized her instinctive response she clamped down on it angrily in suppression. The alien beckoned to them with both hands.
"Come," he had said with an inviting gesture. "Follow me."
"So what exactly is she going to do?" Crichton asked the alien after introductions were made. He watched Paala and D'Argo disappear inside a large pale structure, just outside the town and near the beach.
"Paala will first see that your friend is resting comfortably. I understand that you have sedated Zhaan?" At Aeryn’s quick nod, he continued, his gaze flickering back to her intermittently. "Then she must meditate to prepare herself for the ritual—"
"Wait a sec-what ritual?" Crichton demanded.
"She will attempt the first healing: she will lay hands to first assess the damage, and she will try to restore functionality, so that your friend’s reason and rationality are returned. This is a very preliminary step, but it allows a deeper working relationship with the patient."
"And what next?" Aeryn asked impatiently in a low voice as Crichton muttered, "I’m not sure I like the sound of that..."
"Next, she will undertake the second healing: she will join with your friend's mind and seek to repair the damage within. It may be necessary to repeat the second healing more than once."
"So, what—that's it? Paala's just going to do some hocus pocus and Zhaan will wake up a normal happy Delvian—if there is such a thing as a normal anything out here," Crichton finished under his breath.
The islander did not react to the human’s muttered comment: "Not exactly. Paala will do all this, but most likely, it will require a greater effort than that alone. She has asked me to tell you that all of you, Zhaan’s friends," his gaze included each of them in turn, "may be necessary if the first and second healings fail entirely or prove to be insufficient."
"Us?" Aeryn asked suspiciously. "Why would she need us?"
"I think I know why," Crichton said musingly. "When this happened the last time, I joined Zhaan in Unity. I've already told you guys about this, remember? I don't remember much of the actual Unity part, but what I do remember is that she had to see how I perceived her in order regain her own inner balance. So...will it be something like that?"
The islander, whose name was Kel, merely nodded with an air of distraction. His eyes drifted back to rest on Aeryn. "Something like that," he agreed. Somewhat disturbed by the inexplicable attention, Aeryn found herself looking away, but as Crichton continued to question him, she studied Kel from the corner of her eye with a mixture of distrust and a faint stirring of something else—remembrance, perhaps. He was tall and dark, with bronze skin and two dark braids touching his shoulders. But there was something about those eyes…he had strange gold-green eyes beneath heavy eyebrows in a finely drawn face, that reminded her of some…
She frowned, stamping the errant thoughts out. Concentrate, Sun. Pay attention!
"How long?" she cut in. Crichton turned to her in surprise, while Kel studied her patiently. She tossed her head and made a thin effort to hold back the flare of irritation. "How long is all this going to take?"
There was the crack: she saw uncertainty flicker across Kel's face. Crichton was pulling a face at her from the other side: be nice! She ignored him.
Kel sighed. "At least three days," he replied. " —but Paala will be able to better determine that once she has made it through these initial stages." He continued: "You have come at an auspicious time—one of our greatest festivals, Tiern’on is two days away and as long as you are already here, we would be honored if you joined us in our celebrations. For now, let me take you to the guest house where you can rest from your journey." He spoke quickly to forestall her argument: "Please. Allow us to share our hospitality with you."
She opened her mouth, but Crichton caught her eye and gently shook his head. She bit off her protest in frustration, and followed them sullenly into the village.
Crichton turned to her as they walked. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.
"Yes, I'm okay," she snapped back at him with a sour twist to her mouth.
"All right! Fine, look, I'm just asking because you're acting just a little jumpy."
"Jumpy? I'm not jumping, Crichton."
"No, I mean, you're on edge, you're tense. You want to tell me what's wrong?"
"No."
He sighed. "All right, Aeryn. You know what? I get it. You don't want to talk to me. That's fine. That's great! I'm just going to leave you alone until you're in a better mood." He shot her a parting glance, and then muttered, "and I'm not going to hold my breath."
Quickening his step, he caught up with Kel who, despite his relaxed pace, was a few steps ahead. Kel turned to look at her again over his shoulder. Defiantly she lifted her chin to meet his gaze, but she was faintly disturbed by the considering she saw in his eyes as they touched her. Then he turned back to Crichton to murmur something that she could not hear. Both males broke into laughter at whatever was said, causing her to grit her teeth in annoyance.
=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=
Paala knelt beside the low pallet and settled comfortably onto her heels, composing her thoughts for the task at hand. Now that Zhaan was here and she was confronted with the living, breathing version of the mind she had touched, she found herself somewhat…overwhelmed. When she had first laid eyes upon the beautiful blue female, who, despite her drugged state, managed to exude an aura of…power, of magnetism—it was like crackling electricity had surged across the space that separated their bodies. Paala was forced to swallow a gasp at her own reaction.
The Luxan warrior, D'Argo, had gently cradled the Delvian in his arms, and Paala could see the obvious affection and concern he harbored for her. At her signal, he had followed her into the ziercola and carried Zhaan into the ziercolay, the inner sanctum. It was a large, sunken room with a vaulted ceiling and a small rectangular pool in the center. Its windowless walls were hung with woven tapestries, and the clay floor was scattered with hand-loomed rugs. Fat candles guttered in sconces around the chamber, and there were two lamps near a pallet on the ground. One hundred and fifty cycles ago, after she had first come to Meridea and settled among the islands, she had had the Mers build the ziercola as a center for healing. It was the ziercolay she used most, however, as it held a certain resonance that aided her in her healing efforts, as though it absorbed energy and radiated it.
After making sure that Zhaan was resting comfortably, D’Argo stepped back and regarded Paala solemnly.
"May I stay with her?"
"Yes," she answered with an encouraging smile. "I am sure that Zhaan will be glad to see a familiar face when she regains consciousness and sanity."
"You seem very certain. I hope for your sake that you are right, healer." There was a dangerous glint in his eye.
"D’Argo, I have been a healer and a priest for several hundred cycles. I do have experience in cases like this."
"Have you ever healed a mad Delvian priest before?"
She hesitated. "No," she said finally, squarely meeting his gaze.
"Frell!" he exclaimed loudly with a dismissive gesture. "Then Zhaan is doomed to die. Why have you wasted our time with false hope?"
"So little faith," she murmured.
"What did you say?"
"So little faith," she repeated. "Is your friend’s life worth so little to you that you cannot afford to take the time to try? I offer no false hope, D’Argo. My skills are very real, and I have healed worse than Zhaan’s madness before. Have you such scant trust that you will not take a risk for your friend’s sake?"
"I do not trust anyone who offers miraculous cures. I have encountered too many charlatans to place my trust so easily. And you have not earned it yet."
"There will be no miraculous cure, D’Argo," she said softly. "No. Zhaan’s survival must be earned—and not cheaply, I fear. If I am right, her madness has progressed farther than I had hoped. No, D’Argo—it will take all of us—all of you who call yourselves her friends, to save Zhaan. There will certainly be risk. It is a risk I am willing to take. Are you?"
He studied her silently for several microts while her words sank in. "Yes," he said finally, drawing himself up. "I am prepared to risk a great deal for Zhaan. And I am ready for whatever comes."
"Good, then," she smiled thinly as he knelt opposite her, on the other side of the pallet where Zhaan lay. He withdrew his Qualta blade from its rear harness and lay it on the floor beside him, as though he thought he might need it. He met her eyes briefly, and then he resumed his study of Zhaan's face.
Closing her eyes, Paala stretched her hands out over Zhaan’s body and extended her senses. This was the first step: assess the damage. When her scan was complete she sat back on her heels and sighed. It was worse than she had thought.
Paala moved to settle herself behind Zhaan’s prone body, lifting the finely shaped blue skull to rest in her lap. She began to breathe deeply, and the prayers automatically rolled from her lips as she closed her eyes.
She sank into meditative trance, until she had reached the appropriate depth. Maintaining her external feed, part of her awareness split off to keep watch from the outside. The Luxan watched both her and Zhaan warily, as though he was standing guard, and his large hands flexed in anticipation.
She channeled her remaining awareness deeper, reaching out to make the important connection with Zhaan's centers of cognizance and conscience. She stretched out toward the now-familiar column of energy that was how Zhaan's essence manifested in her Sight. It was still the churning black and blue nexus illuminated by a sickly green flickering light that she had kept watch on during the last eight days and nights. Cautiously she approached and extended herself to skim the surface of the nexus, and then she saw it happen, almost as though it were slow-motion: something, like an arm of lightning, streaked from the now-black nexus and seized her non-corporeal essence in a crippling, paralyzing grip. Her external feed looked on as she began to choke, her eyes bulging. Zhaan's eyes had popped open, and they were bright red, wide and staring, her mouth frozen in a rictus of rage. D'Argo was looking from her to Zhaan and back again in alarm as he realized that something had gone wrong.
"Zhaan!" he cried. Paala's external feed tried to connect with her body enough to communicate, while her inner awareness was being slowly ravaged.
"H-help me," she managed to say through frozen lips. "T-try-ing t-t-to k-kill me."
"Zhaan!" he said again, his eyes growing wild. He reached for the Delvian’s shoulders and shook her. "Zhaan! You cannot do this!" She did not respond, and Paala felt her own struggle weakening as Zhaan's grip crushed her.
"Zhaan, no!" He shook her hard. "You are not a killer, Zhaan. She is trying to help you. Let her go! Let her help you!"
Paala felt herself…fade…
"Please, Zhaan, let her go…" He stroked Zhaan's face and looked down at her with a despairing expression in his eyes.
It did not happen all at once, but Paala felt the tiniest relief from the pressure. Too slowly, the crushing grip subsided, until Paala crashed back into her body as though she had fallen from a great distance onto solid rock. Her physical body collapsed to the clay floor, and she lay there, limp and exhausted, barely able to breathe.
She felt D'Argo move toward her and clasp her limp hand. "Paala," he said.
"D'Argo," she answered in a barely audible whisper. She swallowed. "Help me. I...need…to touch her head."
She felt him move and then she wasn't sure what he had done, but the next thing she knew, he had taken her hand and placed it on the warm, smooth head of the Delvian female.
Despite her weakened state, Paala forced herself to establish the link, and this time she lurched awkwardly toward the vortex that was Zhaan. Perhaps it was only her imagination, but it seemed several shades lighter than it had been only microts earlier, and instead of churning, it pulsated very slowly. She steeled herself for contact, and then plunged ahead.
What happened next was something she could not describe, even to herself. It was like falling endlessly, only with the knowledge that there would be no hard landing. It was like the softest, sweetest kiss, and the most passionate embrace. It was desperation and danger, recognition and affinity, music and a dance between hungry souls. It was almost like they…fell…into each other, and Zhaan's spirit reached out and clung to Paala as she clung to Zhaan, like two intertwined twigs in the midst of a great storm.
It was a communion of spirits, and Paala pressed further, pouring as much of her energy across the link between them as she could. Despite her own weakened state, she was desperate to affect the vital healing that would save this beautiful soul. She would not let Zhaan die. As if in response to her conviction, she felt a sudden upwelling of unfamiliar energy, as if from a deep, hidden reserve, and it raged beyond her control in an inconceivable outpouring of intensity.
Then everything went white.
When Paala opened her eyes, she was still lying on the floor in a curled-up heap, one hand on Zhaan's head. D'Argo stirred nearby and then he was scrambling over to her with an anxious expression on his face. He checked Zhaan first and then fastened his gaze upon her.
"Are you well?"
"Yes," Paala smiled. She pushed herself up to a sitting position. "In fact I feel better than when I began."
"You do?" He looked and sounded skeptical.
"Yes, D'argo. I'm fine. Why?"
He looked uncomfortable, and he shifted. "You were glowing," he replied reluctantly.
She stared at him in shock. "What do you mean?" she forced through stiff lips.
"You touched Zhaan and everything was fine for several microts, but then you began to glow—from inside. You were smiling," he faltered. "So I didn't interfere, but the glow became blinding, and then I lost consciousness."
"You lost consciousness!"
"Yes." He tilted his head at her quizically. "I woke to find myself flat on my back."
"How do you feel?" she asked almost absently, her mind racing.
"Fine." He studied her as she remained silent. "What happened, Paala?"
"Later," she said, with a dismissive gesture. "We must wake Zhaan." She leaned forward and lifted one eyelid. There it was—success! One beautiful blue eye stared up at her. Hastily she checked the other, and heaved a sigh of relief as she saw that it, too, was blue. Settling back onto her heels, she exchanged a glance with D'Argo and smiled. "It worked," she whispered.
He nodded while she began to rub the Delvian’s wrists, and she sent a tiny trickle of her mind into the Delvian's brain to stimulate consciousness. Zhaan immediately responded by stirring, her eyes fluttering open and anchored onto Paala's face.
"Welcome to Meridea, Zhaan," she said gently. "I am Paala."
"I know," Zhaan breathed. She turned her head slightly to include D'Argo in her gaze. "Sweet D'Argo." He clasped her hand briefly. She turned back to Paala.
"Thank you. Thank you both."
=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=
Two standard days later
It was a strange figure, carved from dark wood, with long lines and curves. It appeared to be an avian creature of some sort, with long, slender legs, a slim body, and a long thin beak that was held vertical in the air. Zhaan studied the sculpture that stood on a small shelf with a curious expression.
Paala had brought Zhaan back to her own home in the aftermath of the initial healing. The moan of the sea was nearby and there was a salty tang in the air. Paala's dwelling was a humble structure, simply furnished, with all the tools for self-sufficient living at hand. It was clear that Paala lived as the islanders did: off the bounty of the land, and in a fair attempt at an environmentally harmonious existence. She had tried to explain the Mer way of life to Zhaan, and Zhaan had been impressed.
According to Paala, Meridea was a planet with only one continent far to the east, and the sphere was populated by two very different groups of people:
"The Mers live among a vast network of islands in the middle of the ocean. We are basically on the opposite of the planet from Ridea, the continent, separated from them by ocean on both sides. There is virtually no exchange between the two cultures, because neither the Mers nor the Rideans wish to maintain contact with one another. Rideans are technocrats who perceive the islanders as primitives, while the Mers see the Rideans as exploiters. What the Rideans do not realize is that the Mers are not primitive, ignorant, unwashed masses. Rather, they have merely foresworn any lifestyle that damages the sphere to which they claim a direct symbiotic relationship.
"But sometimes...there is movement between the two peoples. The Rideans call it 'trickle.' In fact, Kel was born on Ridea and defected to the west only three cycles ago. When he came to us, he was suicidal. You might say he was born with the soul of a Mer so the Ridean way of life was an abomination to him, yet until he made the dangerous passage to the islands, he did not understand how or why he felt the way that he did."
Now, as Zhaan contemplated the dark sculpture, she realized that these people practiced a similar path to her own. Love for all beings had always been the foundation of the Delvian Seek, and here on this beautiful sphere, these simple people had managed to achieve that ideal without conflict. It was a marvelous feat.
"Good morning, Zhaan. I’ve brought you some fresh clothes. How are you feeling?"
Zhaan looked up from her cross-legged position and smiled at the beautiful rust-haired female who crossed the room with a bundle of fabric in her arms. Leisurely, she pulled the blue robe back onto her body.
"Much better," she replied with a mischievous smile. "Thanks to you."
"Really?" Paala asked with a twinkle in her large liquid green eyes. "Somehow I thought you were to blame for keeping us up half the night. Or don't you remember?"
Zhaan immediately sobered and anguish filled her face. "Yes, I remember. I remember everything. I tried to kill you, Crichton and the others. All I wanted to do was destroy." Her voice was harsh and bitter, full of self-accusation.
"Zhaan," the alien female said gently. "Remember this. It was not your fault. You must not blame yourself like this."
"I should have been able to control myself better. If I had done so, the madness would not have overtaken me."
Paala lay the armload of fabric down on the bed in the corner of the room. She went to Zhaan, and kneeling before her, she took her by the shoulders. "What's done is done. If we spend our lives reliving our mistakes, how can we possibly move forward?" And then she stopped, as if she realized what she had just said. She laughed and shook her head. "If only I could take my own advice."
"You have been very good to me, Paala," Zhaan said quietly. "I appreciate your kindness."
Paala shook her head and smiled somewhat sadly. "This is what I do. It is what I have been doing for a very long time."
"What is that?" Zhaan asked, inclining her head. "I do not know anything about you, except that you have saved my life."
"Isn't that enough?" the alien replied lightly, averting her eyes, but Zhaan put out a restraining hand when Paala would have stood. It was clear that the green-eyed female was uncomfortable.
"Perhaps not." Zhaan met her eyes. "Why not let me be the judge of that? My comrades took a great risk in coming here. We could still be in danger."
"From the madman who is chasing you."
"Yes," Zhaan replied. "A madman with a Peacekeeper command carrier. And we have no offensive capabilities."
"You needn't worry about that here," Paala said quickly. "As long as you are with me, you don't have to worry about Crais."
"Moya is still in orbit." Zhaan tilted her strange blue eyes at Paala quizzically.
"I can protect her, too."
Zhaan stared at her without blinking for several microts, and then tried a different tack. "How did you come to Meridea, Paala?"
Paala ducked her head, suddenly looking very vulnerable. She opened her mouth to speak but then hesitated.
"A long time ago," she began in a low voice. She cleared her throat and started over. "A long time ago, I did something terrible. I vowed I would never let anything like that happen again. So…I…I made sure that I would not be tempted to break that vow."
She looked up and met Zhaan's eyes. "I have great powers, Zhaan, much greater than you know, and of course the potential for misuse increases exponentially. For me, it was foolishness and arrogance, not ill-will, but in the end, none of that matters. In the face of an evil act, motivations are meaningless."
"So you exiled yourself?" Zhaan asked.
"Yes. On this and a hundred other worlds. I have vowed only to use my power on the smallest scale; here, it means something to these people, to have a healer-priest in their midst. And I love the Mers for what they have given me: acceptance, affection, and loyalty. They have been very good to me, and I have tried to be worthy of them." Her voice shook with emotion as she finished.
Zhaan reached out to Paala and lay one hand along the velvety curve of the female's cheek. Paala brought her hand up to cover Zhaan's, and the two gazed at each other with a thin skim of tears shining in their eyes.
Through her emotion, Zhaan found herself contemplating Unity…somehow she felt that with Paala, it would be spectacular…
=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=
Later that night
Aeryn leaned one shoulder against the cool masonry of the ziercola and watched the small flames begin to lick the huge pile of driftwood. Kel had explained that it was tradition to hold the Tiern'on celebration around a driftwood bonfire—"Long ago, the people of these islands burned vegetation out of necessity, not caring whether it was dead or alive. Now, it is considered an honor to be among those chosen to collect driftwood from the shores and the fallen branches in the forests. Every Mer community in the islands gathers these dead bones of our sister trees to fuel the Tiern'on fire, the ceremonial fire, which illuminates the paths of both yesterday and tomorrow.
"The community gathers around the sacred fire to dance and sing, to tell stories of the past and stories of the future. So they remember where they came from, and where they are going…It is a very beautiful and special time for us," Kel had explained.
"You do this often?" Crichton had asked.
"Tiern'on takes place once every cycle…and many children are the fruit of this celebration."
Aeryn remembered John's snort at that and the considering expressions on both Zhaan and D'Argo's faces, but she had not immediately understood Kel's last comment; awareness dawned a heartbeat too late. Even Rygel had brightened, his ears standing up straight. But true to character, he had merely broken impatiently into the short silence: "Yeah, yeah, but you haven't told us anything important yet—what about the food? Will there be food at this Teernong thing of yours?"
Kel had smiled in the direction of the small creature with the disagreeable expression and then laughed. "Yes, Your Eminence. There will be a great multiplicity of food!"
"Good," Rygel had mumbled, only slightly appeased. "I am sure I shall be quite hungry."
Now, as Aeryn watched the flames dance around the edges of the great pile of driftwood, she saw the townsfolk gathering to form a wide circle of milling bodies around the bonfire. Outside this circle, great tables were heaped with food and drink, while music began to swell above the sound of animated voices: drums pounded rhythmically punctuated by the melodic trill of pipes. Small nuclei of people—she supposed they were 'families'—clumped together, until the bonfire was ringed by a wide swath of Mers. She saw Crichton and D'Argo settle into place near Rygel, with D'Argo eyeing the small Hynerian as though he didn't trust him to behave without supervision. Zhaan was some distance away with Paala, who appeared to address a small group of children. Aeryn studied Paala and Zhaan thoughtfully. There was an attentiveness in Zhaan's posture toward the rust-haired female that she couldn't remember seeing before.
An air of expectancy hung over the gathered crowd that raised the hairs on Aeryn's arms. It was difficult for her to find a point of reference on a gathering of this nature; the only thing that came to mind were Peacekeeper military holidays that celebrated historic leaders and heroes, like the Zelbinion’s Captain Durka. Somehow, she sensed this was very different. Everywhere…it was all different. Nothing familiar…nothing safe.
Once she had thought that perhaps if she found others of her own kind…somewhere she could belong…but that hope had been dashed by the Sebacean colony they had only just left behind. She was beginning to realize that even amongst other Sebaceans, away from the Peacekeepers, she would still be a stranger. Just as she was changed and shaped by her experiences, the Sebaceans she encountered would be very different from anything she had ever known. That realization had grown every arn since they'd left the accursed planet behind. A kind of quiet devastation has fallen over her, a hopelessness that she attempted to push to the back of her mind to be buried beneath the myriad of duties and chores that living aboard Moya provided. But the stark conclusion that her precarious existence on Moya and the uncertainty of any kind of future as a hunted creature were all she had in the universe left her…empty. An aching void had opened up, and all she wanted to do was abandon her dignity and let it swallow her whole.
Tasting bitterness, she looked away from the happily humming crowd and stared off into darkness with stinging eyes.
=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=
From across the clearing, Kel searched the crowd around the bonfire until he caught glimpse of the offworlder, Aeryn Sun. From the moment he had laid eyes on her, he'd felt a spark of something between them…perhaps of affinity. She reminded him of someone he'd left behind in another lifetime.
Eri…she was his only regret. He had been unable to make her see or feel what he knew to be unshakable truths in his life, and so he had been forced to leave her in that other world, that other life, that was so very alien to the beautiful life he had now.
He hated to remember that life, because it only brought him pain and sorrow. What he remembered was the chill that had seemed to surround everything: the work they were assigned—the social structure—it had choked him with its sterility. Deep inside he had always felt that there had to be something more to life than that—than the rigidity, the rules, and the smothering pre-ordained duty. The only brightness he had felt amidst his growing depression had been Eri. But eventually, even her love could not penetrate the bleakness that had poisoned his life. She was truly a daughter of Ridea, and ultimately he had realized that he would have to leave without her.
There was something about Aeryn Sun that brought Eri back as if she was standing beside him. Perhaps it was something in her eyes and in the firmness of her chin that spoke of duty and breeding, of discipline and blind loyalty. But unlike Eri, he saw something broken inside Aeryn—a faith that had been lost, as if something she had always trusted and believed in had finally let her down. Gazing at her from across the clearing, he could see it in her posture and the tilt of her head. Lost and unanchored…just like he had once been.
Kel looked for Paala and found her nearby with Zhaan, who was looking healthier by far than she had when she had first arrived. There was still a pinched expression around the Delvian's eyes, which told Kel that the healing was not yet complete, but at least she had regained functionality. Paala looked very happy; there was a glow about her that Kel could not remember ever seeing. The two of them sat very close, and Kel almost thought he'd seen them holding hands.
He looked up again to find Aeryn Sun, and he was just in time to see her turn away. Kel's mouth firmed and he shook his head decisively. He couldn't let her walk away. Not again. He'd already failed once, and he wasn't going to let it happen again.
=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=
Tossing her head slightly to clear the hair from her shoulders, Aeryn slipped away around the corner of the building. She blinked rapidly to clear the stinging from her eyes and swallowed hard.
"This is…this is…" she muttered and swallowed again. "Silly. Right. So…I'm going to stop talking to myself. Now." She shook her head angrily as she left the stone-paved path that led back to the small town, and instead she struck out through the tall grass. The golden fronds rose up nearly to her elbows and tickled the bare skin of her arms as she passed through them. Her pace slowed and her arms lifted as she let her hands float atop the fuzzy grass-heads.
She had never been anywhere like this or seen anything like this before...
Ahead, the pod rested in a clearing on the outskirts of town, its grey cylindrical shape a hulking mass above the grass. It was both a jarring and familiar sight in that alien landscape. From here, the sounds of the festival had faded to a distant murmur, and she relaxed the tinest bit.
Aeryn, I know how I feel about you and I think I know how you feel about me. When I leave here, I want you to come with me. You can be so much more.
No! She tensed again, willing herself not to remember, and halted in her tracks before the pod, its grey metal shape anchoring her gaze. It was familiar, part of the new world she inhabited. But here on Meridea, it simply did not belong. Just like me. I don't belong anywhere.
Just beyond the bluff, through the waving grass, she could see shining water and the line where the dim lavendar sky kissed sea on the horizon. Here, the memory of that other time was unwelcome, as unwelcome as Crichton's persistent efforts to break through the shield she had carefully erected.
Where will we go?
What does it matter? Somewhere else.
I don't know how to live somewhere else.
You only say that because this is all you've ever known. In the right new place, you'll thrive.
"No," she said aloud, her own voice harsh in her ears. "I am not thriving, I am barely surviving. And I don't even know why. Why me?"
She forced herself to walk forward, until finally she stopped beside the stern end of the pod. The wind ruffled her hair back from her face as she looked out across the grass through unseeing eyes.
"I didn't want this, I don't want this, I don't want to be here!" Even muttered, her words sounded loud against the faint moan of the wind and the ocean below. All I ever wanted to do was fly prowlers! This is not how my life was supposed to be…
She reached out blindly until she felt the cool surface of the pod beneath her outstretched palm, and then she was leaning forward against her upraised forearms, her palms flat against the pod's slick exterior. She lay her cheek against her forearms and facing into the wind, she took a deep breath.
Quit feeling sorry for yourself, Sun! You're here now, so you might as well deal with it!
"That's what I've been telling myself for the last half-cycle!" she muttered aloud. "So why am I losing it now…"
She had never been one for self-analysis, but being away from the Peacekeepers had changed a great deal in her life. After her encounter with Namtar, she had been forced to question everything about her identity that she had ever believed. That transformation had irrevocably altered her.
That frelling Dream! She wasn't insensible to the fact that she had become increasingly less communicative since leaving the Sebacean colony behind, and far more irritable. She had pushed Crichton away time and again, even as part of her didn't want him to stop reaching out. She just hadn't wanted to face the choice that she had made: to return to her life and leave behind the peace she had finally found within the Dream. It was easier to be angry. And she had taken that anger out on everyone, even when it was unwarranted. Zhaan's illness had only aggravated her state of mind. And then there were those nightmares…
It was too much! Life as a Peacekeeper had been so much simpler. She tightened one hand into a fist and turning her body, she slammed her right forearm back against the hull of the pod, as she blinked rapidly. She was trembling again in sudden fury at the futility of maintaining any kind of dignity.
"Here you are," she heard from behind, and she froze. She heard the step now and the rustling of the grass as the figure slipped into place beside her. "I was wondering where you had gone."
She turned her head sideways to meet Kel's eyes, quiet pools of shining gold flecked with green. He gazed at her without expression, and then he turned to face into the wind, which swept his now-loose dark hair back on his shoulders. Aeryn faltered and returned her eyes to the horizon, not understanding the effect this alien had upon her. It was almost as if he reminded her of someone…
"It is very beautiful here," he said finally after several microts of silence had passed. "You chose your retreat well." At that, she swung her head to face him with flashing eyes but the protest died in her throat.
"Come," he said as he faced her and lightly touched her arm. "No one should be alone during Tiern'on. A great feast has been prepared and I would like you to share it with me, Aeryn Sun."
She found herself melting, the ice and fury dissipating beneath the warmth of his gaze. Wordlessly he turned, and she turned with him, not to follow, but to walk at his side through the tall grass.
"What were you hiding from?" he asked as he peered at her through the windblown strands of straight dark hair.
"I wasn't hiding," she began acerbically but then faltered: "I just needed to be alone...to be away from…everything." Why was she explaining herself to him?
"You have spent a great deal of time alone while you have been among us, Aeryn Sun. You spend little time even with your comrades." He stated this matter-of-factly as he continued to walk through the downward-sloping grass. When she did not respond, he paused in his step and looked her in the eye. "You are troubled."
"Yes," she heard herself answer. She furrowed her brow in puzzlement. Why was she even listening to him? They were walking again. She frowned in concentration. She looked at him sideways again. He smiled at her: such a beautiful smile, she thought with a start.
"Tonight is a time of celebration, Aeryn. Let your troubles go. If you wish, they will still be there in the morning."
She stared at him in astonishment and was unable to bite back her surprised laughter. With a start she realized she couldn't remember the last time she had laughed. Did I laugh with Crichton when I was drunk…?
"Yes," she agreed wryly. "They will still be there in the morning."
"Good, then. That's settled." He smiled again, and she realized that they were very near to the beachside bonfire. The steady rhythm of drums and the skirl of pipes mingled with the animated sounds of hundreds of voices that resonated with laughter, conversation, and song. Meeting his eyes, she smiled a bit stiffly. And then he was drawing her forward into the milling crowd, the thick odor of cooking food, and the infectious enthusiasm that was so tangible that it almost seemed visible in the flickering firelight.
=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=
Aeryn slipped her fingers into the wide handle of the double-handled earthenware mug and realized that the cup really did require two hands. Kel held the other handle as she cautiously brought it to her lips. The fiklah had an odd flavor: smoky but sweet with a dark, thick, syrupy consistency. She swallowed slowly and felt the warmth begin to spread.
"You're…sure that it's safe?" she heard herself say.
"Yes," he smiled, and then he was tipping the cup towards his own mouth to take a sip. She watched his throat contract as he sipped and swallowed, once, twice, three times. She closed her eyes and realized that she felt decidedly strange…detached.
"So this is tradition, right?" she asked. He nodded, watching her carefully.
She smiled suddenly and leaned forward. Somehow, all the fears and uncertainties that she had struggled with only a few arns earlier seemed distant, like something she could examine without connection.
"I've been…such a fool," she half-whispered to herself.
"No, Aeryn. You have been trying to make peace with yourself," Kel said gently, tipping her chin up. She met his eyes, glittering orbs of gold-green shimmer. He put the cup down. "You have seemed so…distressed since you arrived on Meridea. You should try to relax. For now, put the past away."
Put the past away…could she do that? Could she forget the terrible things she had done, the people—person—she had loved…and betrayed? Could she forget the life she had once had, the structure, the familiarity, and the sense of loss that still gnawed at her now that she knew that life was irretrievably gone? Could she put aside the fear that she really didn't know how to live, that she would never thrive, that she would always be scrabbling for a meaningless existence, scraping out survival and never knowing if her next breath would be her last?
"I don't know," she murmured.
"I think you do. I think you’ve been running away from the truth—I think you've known it all along, Aeryn Sun."
"What truth?"
"That you will survive. You can and you will."
"How do you know that? You don't even know me."
"Don't I?" He laughed softly with a trace of bitterness. "I think perhaps I know you better than you think I do." When he proffered the cup again, she accepted it without question, swallowing several times.
"You see," he began after he had drunk of the cup himself, her hand guiding it as he tipped his head back. "Once there was a boy who lived far, far away from here. All his life, all he had ever wanted to do, was help people. He wanted to heal. But before he was born, his vocation in life had already been chosen, so he was given an appropriate education and spent the rest of his short life in research labs designing and running endless simulations for other researchers. He hated his life; he felt like he didn't belong. He had always felt that way, even as a child. And he had always felt, deep inside, where no one could dictate his behavior, that there had to be more to life than the life he knew. So…finally…he left to find that something more."
"And did he find it?"
Kel smiled. His features were indistinct in firelight and shadow with only the gleam of his teeth to indicate his expression. "Yes. Yes, he found everything he had been missing, and more than that."
"So…that's it? That's the end of the story?" She was faintly incredulous. It couldn't be that easy.
"Not exactly." He swallowed. "He had cared for someone, very deeply, but…she had never understood why he wanted anything more. She believed she was happy, and even though she cared for him, perhaps…perhaps even as much as he cared for her, she lost patience for his longing for a different life. It drove a wedge between them, until finally he realized that if he did not leave, he would whither away and die. He knew she could not—would not understand. So when he left…he had to leave her behind. And he will regret that for the rest of his life. That he will never be with her again. That she will never know the happiness that comes from true freedom."
"I…see." She paused lamely, at a loss for a response. What could she say? There was a ring of familiarity to his story; but it brought her right back to the past that she was trying to separate herself from. Is this what freedom means?
"Yes, Aeryn Sun," Kel replied and she looked at his in surprise before she realized that she had spoken that last thought aloud. "Freedom is making choices."
"Yes," she breathed, watching his glittering gold-green eyes. The fiklah had done something to her, something strange, because the next thing she knew, Kel's lips were on hers and she had her arm around his neck, one hand buried in the long flyaway strands of his dark hair. She wasn't sure how long they remained like that, wrapped in a warm, soft embrace. There was no thought involved, or emotion, only…sensation and peace. Later all she could distinctly remember was a sense of release from the terrible tension that had gripped her for almost half a cycle. Kissing him felt warm and safe…easy.
That is, until awareness came crashing down on her, and she pulled away with abrupt suddenness.
"I—I can't," she said unsteadily, staring at him wide-eyed. He returned her gaze, his eyes very sad all of a sudden. "I remind you of her, don't I?"
He nodded quickly, vulnerability written on his dark features. She reached out a hand and placed her fingertips over his mouth in wordless sympathy, and then she was unsteadily scrambling to her feet. She looked down at him for a few microts before turning, and she walked away.
=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=
From across the wide informal circle around the bonfire, Crichton looked up in time to see Aeryn pull away from Kel—had she been kissing him? He stared at them in astonishment as he watched her touch Kel's mouth with her fingertips, and then she was walking away.
The atmosphere at the gathering had grown more festive by the microt, and he had actually been enjoying himself as he watched the smiles and laughter of the Mers and the dancers who had begun to move into the wide-open space around the bonfire. He had kept an eye on Aeryn with Kel when he had caught sight of them slipping into place with platters of food. In fact, he'd been discreetly watching them for some time now, and had felt faintly jealous because Aeryn was actually talking and from their expressions, without foul language! He even thought she had smiled a couple of times. While he had tried to quell the mild jealousy, he wondered how Aeryn could talk to a stranger, when she wouldn't talk to him.
But now, as he watched Aeryn walking away from Kel, he only wondered why.
He got to his feet with a few words of excuse to D'Argo and Rygel, but D'Argo looked preoccupied. Following the Luxan's gaze, he watched as Zhaan and Paala stood very close together with their hands clasped between them. There was a distinct air of intimacy about them, a smile, a laugh, a secret glance shared, and then the two were turning away from the bonfire and the crowd and slowly walking into the privacy of outer darkness. Wow, Crichton thought, in surprise. I didn't exactly see that one coming. Although perhaps he should have: Zhaan had spent all her time with Paala since Paala had restored her basic cognizant functions two days ago. He looked down at D'Argo who had a slightly forlorn expression in his eyes as he watched Zhaan and Paala disappear from the outskirts of the crowd.
"Hey, big guy," he said softly.
D'Argo looked up, clearly startled from his observation. "Yes, John."
"Listen, I'm going to go look for Aeryn, okay? Do you mind—" He made a slight jerking motion with his head in Rygel's direction. The small Hynerian was busily stuffing his face, as he had for the last two or three arns. It still amazed him that the little slug could consume so much more than his body weight and not keel over. D'Argo's eyes looked over at Rygel and exchanged a conspiratorial glance with John before heaving a mock-long-suffering sigh. "Just keep an eye on him, willya? Don't let him get any funny ideas."
D'Argo grinned and then reached out his arms with his hands clasped, and he loudly cracked his joints. Rygel looked up with a touch of surprise.
"Hey! Are you talking about me?"
"I thought you were too busy filling your three stomachs to pay attention to anything else, Your Eminence," John chuckled.
"I will not have you insulting me behind my back!" The small creature turned away with a huff and resumed his mass food consumption. Both John and D'Argo snickered.
Finally, John turned away, and shoving his hands into the pockets of his black trousers, he made off in the direction he had last seen Aeryn. She had a head start on him, so it took him some time to find her, walking slowly down toward the eastern beach. From a distance, he watched her as he trailed along behind. While he followed at a discreet distance, he pondered what to say to her when he caught up. She had been so damn prickly these last few weeks! And this last week had been particularly nasty—they had all felt the rough side of her tongue on a fairly frequent basis, usually for no reason at all. She had been driving him crazy! He knew that she was going through some tough stuff—after Namtar, nothing had been the same anymore. As if she hadn't had enough to deal with by being exiled from and hunted by her own fellow Peacekeepers, the Namtar experience had thrown a huge wrench into the works. John couldn't imagine how he would have coped if it been his eye that the hulking mad scientist had poked with Pilot's DNA.
After her initial recovery from that transformation, she had seemed to adjust well, especially after she realized that she still retained some of Pilot's knowledge on Moya's operations. That seemed like nothing short of a miracle to John. It had been a long time since he'd studied genetics, but in his world, what had happened to Aeryn seemed rankly impossible. But this isn't my world, he reminded himself. Out here, anything can happen. I've got to get used to that.
The beach was a dim, eerie landscape, with large black jagged rocks poking up from the sand and glistening in the dark. If it had been Earth, he would have said that the ocean was at low tide but on Meridea, he had no idea if anything like tides applied. Looking up into the black vault of the sky, he did see a couple moons, but they were nothing like the bright white orb he had loved as both a child and an adult. At least the laws of gravity have to apply out here, right? There must be some constant principles in the universe. Peering upward, he studied the vast glittering field of stars that winked and flashed, their pale light vaguely reflected in the water.
It was times like this that he missed Earth the most. Usually it was a submerged ache that he tried to ignore, but…here he was on a planet that reminded him of his own beautiful sphere, and it was similar, but it could never be the same. On Acquara, he had thought he had found a place that was close enough that he could be happy, but in the end, he realized that he would never really belong there, either. No matter where he went in this miserable end of the universe, he would always be an outsider, he would always be the ignorant, backward alien who could barely tie his own shoes.
But I'm learning, he thought protestingly. I'm learning all the time! He had always been told that humans were the most adaptable creatures on the planet Earth—well, he was getting a first-hand opportunity to test that out on a slightly larger scale. Could he adapt to the universe? Could he survive? Well, whatever happened, he wasn't going to give up without a fight. What was it that Dad had said? Every man has to be his own kind of hero…
Yeah, Dad, you got that right. I just hope that if you saw me now, you would be proud of me.
He returned his gaze to Aeryn's distant figure and hastened his step as he saw her walk toward the cliff that loomed before them on the beach. It was like a great black tower of rock that reared up from the ocean, with jagged black teeth standing guard all around its sandy base. While he watched, Aeryn headed straight for the rocks and began to pick her way amongst them, almost as if she was going to…
Damn! He let out a disbelieving bark of laughter. She was going to try to climb that thing. He looked up again at the top of that cliff, and then back down to the base, where she was now scrambling among the boulders at the bottom. She was just a dim shape, black on black with her dark clothes and dark hair tumbling over her shoulders. Only her bare arms gleamed palely in the starlight. He quickened his pace. He was not going to let her climb that thing alone, no matter what macho ya-yas she had to prove.
By the time he got to the rocks, Aeryn was already well above him. As he looked at the steep, practically vertical incline, he began to worry that this whole thing was worse than a bad idea. But he couldn't let her go on ahead without him, so he began navigating the treacherous slope.
"Aeryn!" he called. "Wait up!" He looked up and saw her start—she looked like she was ready to lose her balance. His heart skipped a beat until she steadied. She turned to look down at him.
"Crichton! What are you doing here?"
"Trying to catch up with you—what are you doing up here?"
"Well, you can turn right around! It's none of your business and I don't need any company, Crichton!"
"That's too bad, Aeryn!" he yelled in response. "You're stuck with me, 'cause I'm coming up!"
"Frell you!" he heard and she renewed her climb.
He pressed forward, in a vain attempt to catch up, his hands and feet searching for grips and niches to propel him aloft. He didn't bother talking to her any further, as the physical exertion took him beyond conversation. All his attention was consumed with finding the next foothold, the next outcropping to drag himself up through the mass of black rock. Eventually he drew close enough to hear her harsh breathing. Concerned, he looked up and saw her sway unsteadily for a couple microts. He suddenly remembered that he'd seen her and Kel drinking from that huge-ass ritual cup of fiklah. One of the Mers had explained that it was a drugged beverage, to loosen inhibitions. John frowned. If she had had any alcohol, or whatever that stuff was, it meant that she wasn't as alert as she should be…and she was attempting something that he realized was becoming rapidly more dangerous.
Now, he was climbing in earnest. If she slipped and fell, while he was within reach…he wouldn't be able to forgive himself. Don't look down, he told himself, but he couldn't resist, and sure enough, he wasn't immune to a wave of vertigo as he saw the dangerous black rocks and white-capped water far below. John looked up quickly to counteract their effects, and he saw Aeryn nearing the top of the cliff. He pressed onward, every foothold bringing him closer to her. Several microts later, he was pulling himself over the ledge, where he flopped and lay, flat on his back, to catch his breath.
"What the hell is going on, Aeryn?" he asked as he lay there. He heard her voice somewhere behind him.
"Nothing, Crichton," she said tiredly. He flipped over and pushed himself up to look at her. She was leaning against a boulder surrounded by scrubby bushes. She looked waxy and pale, and she was breathing hard just as he was.
"I wouldn't call scaling a mountain 'nothing,' Aeryn. Something is going on here." He cocked his head at her. "Is it that guy? Is it Kel? Did he do something? Did he hurt you?"
"No!" Her head snapped up and she stared at him. "No," she said in a quieter voice.
"Then what is it?" He stood and walked over to her. "Don't shut me out, Aeryn."
She looked away. Pushing herself off the boulder, she walked past him to the cliff's edge and looked out to sea. Crichton turned to join her, and he realized that it was much lighter than it had been earlier. When he looked at the sky he realized why. There, on the horizon, was another satellite: a moon, much brighter than the other two already in the sky. Mentally he kicked himself for not remembering that other moon from Pilot's briefing. This one was bright like Earth's satellite, but much larger. It hovered just above the horizon like a white mini-sun.
He tossed Aeryn a sidelong glance. Her face gleamed palely in the moon's light while her open black vest flapped over the pale tank top, and dark tendrils of her hair whipped around her shoulders in the light breeze that blew over the cliff. He opened his mouth to speak when Aeryn suddenly frowned.
"What's that?" she asked with a note of concern in her voice.
"Where?" He tried to follow her gaze.
"There," she pointed out to sea, and he saw the small dark shapes in the distance.
"Islands," he said dismissively. "There are islands all around here. Kel said that Mer territory is a vast string of 'em."
"He also said that this island is at the eastern edge of the network," she replied. "And if that's an island—it's moving!"
"What?" He peered into darkness to see what she was seeing.
"Trust me, Crichton, it's moving, and—there! Did you see that flash? I have a bad feeling—" The ground suddenly violently lurched beneath their feet, and Crichton went tumbling.
"Aeryn!" he cried as the unthinkable happened—as if in slow motion, he skidded right over the edge of the cliff. His fingers scrabbled for something—anything to grab on to as he fought the momentum to break his fall. He grabbed at air—
—until his fingers finally found purchase, and he desperately clung to an outcropping that did not crumble away with his weight.
"Aeryn!" he cried out again, and he looked up in terror as he realized how dire his circumstances were. From this side of the cliff, he was looking at a straight vertical drop that would definitely kill him. Aeryn's anxious face appeared just above him, her mouth tightened into a thin, straight line.
"Don't move, John," she said in an amazingly calm voice.
"Don't worry, Aeryn," he gritted. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Take my hand," she said, reaching one slim arm down to him.
"Yeah, and we'll both wind up with a watery death," he muttered.
"Just do it!" she screamed.
He took stock of his situation. He was clinging to a small wide ridge of rock with both hands that were about two feet apart. He was afraid to move his legs in search of a foothold, because he feared he might shake his rock ledge loose, and then there would be nothing to break his fall. If he let go with one hand to grab at Aeryn, would he be able to hold on long enough for her to pull him up? In that case, would she even be able to pull him up?
He stared up at her frantically.
"Look, John, you're going to have to trust me. Take my hand. I won't let you go."
"I don't want to get you killed, too, Aeryn," he said, feeling the strain in his arms. He had to make a choice one way or the other soon.
"John." He looked at her face, and he realized she was terrified. "Please, John." She was pleading. "Just take my hand."
He met her eyes bleakly.
And he let go.
Concluded in Part 3:The Ebbing Tide