"I'm not alone. I'm with you." I flung that out, not a gauntlet exactly, but more of a distraction.
"But I'm not . . ."
Human. A person? Whatever he intended to say, I cut it off by sprawling flat on the floor, bare hands, bare feet. It was like being held safe against my mother's chest, only it was thrilling too, the first kick of new chem. Our points of contact warmed, and as I held still, the quiet thrum of his energy was countered by my pulse. By the lightning jolt of his surprise, nobody had ever done this before.
"You're so strange," he said, and vanished the ceiling so I was swimming in stars. How he knew I wanted that before I did . . . it was perfect.
For a moment, I considered making Nadim angels on the floor. If he mirrored my movements with brightness, as he did when he wanted to direct us somewhere, the pulses of light and color would flutter from my skin to his and back again, a language only spoken by the two of us.
"I want you to know . . . I won't punk out like that again. I wasn't ready, and Typhon hit us with a sucker punch. I promise not to leave you to deal with that on your own again."
The heat of his happiness washed over my hands and feet, giving lie to his words. "You're not meant to bear my pain, Zara."
I smiled. "Just you watch me."
The next evening's official ceremony, thankfully, wasn't held on Earth; it was a broadcast, and we could watch and respond when our turn rolled around. Each country called their own Honors, praising the ones who had graduated and were hand-picked to go on the Journey, along with the young recruits who'd made it past their testing week and gotten confirmed. It was bizarre when Gidra contacted me on the console.
"You're up in ten minutes," the press liaison told me. "Do your makeup for God's sake and find a fresh uniform."
Briefly I considered flying my slacker flag, but that might shame Nadim, and I cared more about his image than my own. So I hurried to my quarters, borrowed some of Bea's cosmetics, since I didn't own any, and donned formal blues so crisp that they damn near cut my shins. I got back to the console seven minutes later, pretty good, I thought. Bea got called up before me, and for a few minutes I thought she might choke up at the sight of the holo view of her brothers, sisters, parents, and that opera-singing grandmother all waving to her from her home in Rio. But she got through it and said a few words thanking the world for this opportunity: first in Portuguese, then Spanish, English, and, finally, German. Hot damn, she speaks four languages. And they almost dropped her?
In the background, Bea's grandmother couldn't stop crying--proud, happy tears it seemed like--and the camera cut away as the extended family offered a long-distance group hug. On Earth, I thought, Beatriz had a whole tribe; out here, there was only me. I resolved not to let her down.
"You'll be fine," Nadim said, reminding me that I was nervous and my turn was coming up. I was standing by, but not prepared, when they connected to my console. What do I have to say to the world?
"You're on in . . ." Gidra flashed three fingers, two, and then one.
Showtime. I had nothing planned, so the words surprised me too. "I'm dedicating this voyage to everybody in Detroit's Lower Eight. Maybe they said you'll never get out. Well, I'm sending a shout-out to folks who feel alone, who feel like hope is something they can't afford. Your shot is out there somewhere, so reach for it. Stay strong. Zara out."
I saw my mother and sister sitting together on Mars, looking beautiful even while they cried. I saw my father, in a separate image, trying to get a microphone, because of course he would. And then the media cut to a panoramic sweep of the Lower Eight. People stood on buildings, on cars, shouting and holding signs. Some had nothing to do with me, but I read enough congratulations that my shriveled heart sparked a little. Audio popped a few seconds later, and the only intelligible word I could make out was my name, chanted in unison, by strangers who, on a good day, struggled for life.
"How was that?" I asked Beatriz, not really expecting an answer.
She threw her arms around me. I froze, because hugs were not something I was used to getting. "Amazing. Inspiring."
"Now you're just messing with me." I set her firmly back and looked up at the ceiling. "Nadim? What's next?"
"In four hours, we depart, and you won't see Earth for a year. Will you miss it?"
"Yes," Beatriz said, at the same time I said, with exactly the same conviction, "No." And we both laughed. "Maybe a little," I amended. "But my life wasn't exactly roses."
"No one's is," Beatriz said. "But won't you miss the sky? The clouds?"
I shrugged.
"You should rest," Nadim said. "I'll wake you both in a few hours when it's time for departure."
Beatriz left, yawning and stretching. I went to the galley and made myself some coffee, curling up on the sofa as I sipped it.
"Zara? Aren't you tired?" Nadim asked.
I'd only just begun to listen to how he said my name. Zah-ra, with a faint trill to the R. It wasn't how most people did, usually from reading it off forms. Generally, they rhymed it with Sara. Nadim's pronunciation made me feel like a reigning old-days queen.
"I should be. But I'm not, really. So much has happened. I can't believe that in a few hours, we'll be . . . gone."
"Freedom." His voice had gone low and quiet and warm, and it felt like a blanket wrapping around me. "Except it isn't freedom, Zara, only the illusion of it. We will still be required to do our duties on the Tour. And we aren't free to go anywhere we like."
"You're bored," I said.
"Am I?" He sounded taken aback. "I don't see how that could be true."
There was some subtext I didn't quite grasp, but I pursued another line of inquiry instead of drilling for more. "You told me that you hear the stars," I reminded him. "It must be hard to resist heading out there. I heard it . . . when you dreamed."
"I don't . . . !" His denial trailed off, possibly as he recalled telling us that he'd had what we'd call a bad dream.
I sipped my coffee. "Am I bothering you?"
"Nothing about you bothers me," he said. "Even when you're angry. I like the way you shine when you're angry."
I laughed. I couldn't help it. "Shine? I do not!"
"Burn, then. Is that better?"
"Whatever." For some reason, I blushed, an actual hot flush that traveled up my neck into my face. With my free hand, I touched my cheek, more or less in disbelief, because I once watched a couple from my old Lower Eight crew go at it up against a wall without even blinking. Yep. What is wrong with me?
The blush intensified, and suddenly it was hard to breathe. My fingers flexed on the wall, and then I felt the pulse of his life force. I went lightheaded, because it seemed like I was drinking Nadim through my skin cells.
I pulled away. Sipped more coffee. Tried to slow my breathing.
"I'm sorry. This is different than . . . anything I have known. Beatriz--she fits here with me. But not the way you do."
I knew what he meant, and that filled me with equal measures of fear and delight. It was blowing my mind that in such a short time, we'd be out of the Sol system. Sayonara, ISS. Bye-bye, Moonbase Alpha. Farewell, Mars Colony Roma. In what world did two teenage girls get to go joyriding on a sentient ship? A future so strange I couldn't have imagined it.
We're a team. And in an odd sort of way, Bea and Nadim had already become family. I would fight anybody who tried to hurt them or take them away from me.
Including Elder Typhon.
Nadim might believe his elders wouldn't do anything shady; I had no such illusions. And maybe my chary nature could save us when the shit hit the fan.
PART III
From //darknet, TRUTHSEEKERS forum, subbed: "True Symbionts: The Real Reason Leviathan Seek Us Out by Ingmar Strom"
*WARNING, CONTENT CREATED by individuals is not validated or endorsed by TRUTHSEEKERS or //darknet*
Over the years, people have attempted basic explanations. The Leviathan seek companions for their travels; they are sentient and feel loneliness.
But the truth is never so simple.
Per compelling data compiled by leading scientist Hermann L. Schulz [null citation], they have a pattern. They seek out civilizations on the verge of annihilation and offer aid. Those who accept flourish. The ones who do not often perish. However, there is no proof to substantiate fringe claims that the Leviathan herald or precipitate extinction-level events.
Based on my evaluation of Dr. Schulz's work, I offer the following thesis regarding human and Leviathan interdependence. Consider the existence of the wax worm. It lives within a bee colony, tunneling, which protects the larva, while it eats wax, pollen, honey, and excrement. This keeps the colony clean while the bees hide the worms from predators. This is an example of a beneficial parasite.
We are the wax worms. They are the colony.
Further exploration into the Daedalean mystery as to why the Leviathan truly seek human allies reveals an interesting secret. In the course of my research, I discovered the memoirs of Moriah Krull, an early Honors selection. Most of her story has been suppressed, but I acquired a copy from the underweb, and what I learned . . . brace yourselves.
Humanity is not the first. Other sentient life forms have traveled with the Leviathan. But what became of them? How did we replace them? And why?
To find out, order my book, True Symbionts: The Real Reason Leviathan Seek Us Out.
[purchase information redacted, TRUTHSEEKER mod warning: DO NOT USE THIS FORUM FOR SELF-PROMOTION]
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Breaking Molds
I DIDN'T SLEEP. I was still up, staring out at the rotating Earth below, when Beatriz came out to join me. She looked wrecked, so I made coffee the way she liked it, Brazilian style, and she drank it curled on the couch next to me.
I'd expected some big send-off, fanfare, something like that. Instead, Nadim just said, "We're leaving."
And then, the Earth slowly turned out of sight, behind us. Bea whispered, "Nadim? Can you make the viewport larger please? I'd--I'd like to watch until it's gone."
He made the entire wall transparent. Beatriz sucked in a breath, then let it slowly out and nodded. Her eyes found and fixed on the Earth, and the only sign of her distress was the paleness of her knuckles as she gripped her coffee cup.
"Breathe," I told her quietly. She sent me a quicksilver smile and nodded. There were tears in her eyes, but they never fell. She blinked them away.
We sat silently in the lounge with the entire wall turned window, the entire ceiling transparent, as much a part of the stars as we could be while still having chairs and oxygen.
It was mesmerizing. Not just the spectacle of passing worlds, but the school of Leviathan who traveled with us. In view, we had at least twenty, both young ones like Nadim and Elders who resembled Typhon, the silvery shimmer of them picking up and shedding color like the scales of fish as they swam the emptiness.
We glided past Saturn. It was the farthest we'd been before, and we kept going. Light was fainter here, and the Leviathan were fading except in shimmers; I might have imagined it, but it seemed they were growing darker to match the weak ambient light from our sun. Stars burned hard, but they were far away, and as we passed the outer limits of our system--our home--I could only make out the other Leviathan when they blocked other lights.
At this diaspora, I thought of all the live ships that wouldn't return to the Sol system, or if they did, it wouldn't be during my lifetime. The Journey meant being willing to follow your Leviathan into the unknown, away from your home forever. Talk about a tough call. Nadim didn't speak, but I felt this was something special, this moment of parting . . . and then, a sound hummed through the floor. A low, throbbing rhythmic pulse that I felt in my chest, like boosted bass at a party.
"What was that?" Bea asked. Still not quite past her nerves, I could hear that.
"It's a song," Nadim said. "I suppose you'd call it a good-bye. Those going out on their Journey sing it to us."
I didn't have any idea how sound could travel through space--that was supposed to be impossible, wasn't it? But maybe it wasn't sound, it was resonance. Resonance the Leviathan were attuned to hear, and we couldn't under normal circumstances. It vibrated through Nadim's body.
The pulse amplified and I gripped the arms of my chair tighter. I shut my eyes, and I felt what Nadim did: proud, defiant, sad, relieved. Such a profound and complicated mixture of emotions.
Through my connection with Nadim, I also felt Typhon, at a far remove, like calling into a canyon. Not his emotions, but a kind of empty pressure, like the frozen bubble of a massive explosion. Terrifying and dark. No singing from him. No sound at all.
Then he was gone. Marko and Chao-Xing with him.
Nadim dimmed the transparency of the windows and ceiling gradually, rather than cutting us off at once--that was an adjustment I appreciated. It made it less traumatic for me, and especially Bea. We still sat for a moment, just breathing, and then she reached over and grabbed my hand.
"So," she said. "We're doing this."
"Damn right. Nadim, what's our first Tour stop?"
"We are on course for a planet that we refer to as Firstworld."
"Firstworld. You mean, where you're from?" Beatriz asked him.
"We are from a galaxy so far from here that it would takes years in human time to reach it," Nadim said. "This is the first world where Leviathan gathered and made contact. Once, long ago, there was a civilization."
Beatriz raised a brow. "You mean . . . there are people?"
"No. The indigenous race is gone. But it is a beautiful place. One day another intelligent species will rise, but it's fallow now. We visit often, to observe the changes and record them."
"Why?" I asked.
"When sentient life evolves, we must withdraw, continue observation from a distance, and strike that planet from the Tour. It would be wrong to offer aid before they reach a certain technological level."
"Is it dangerous?" That was Bea, of course. I'd never have thought to even ask. Everything was dangerous; that was my default position.
"There are some lower predatory life-forms," Nadim said. "But they avoid the ruins, which is where you will take readings and gather samples. It should be quite safe."
"Hey," I said, as if it was a logical segue. "So, do you have weapons for us?"
"There is a weapons locker. I will open it for you. You should take sidearms down with you. But please, damage nothing. Take nothing but the designated samples. This is a revered site for us."
"Sacred." Beatriz nodded. "We understand. We won't disturb anything."
I could hear Derry's response to that, whispering in my ear. Yeah, right. If I see gold, I'm lifting it. Screw sacred. I'd have agreed with him, before. I'd thought freedom meant breaking the rules, stomping on other people's ideas of what shouldn't be done. Hearing Beatriz say sacred made me think maybe freedom didn't mean wrecking shit. It meant not doing it too. After all, no cops out here. No rules. Just respect.
"How long until we get there?" I asked.
I could've checked our course on the console, but it was easier to ask. I liked hanging out in the hub, where most of the human-friendly tech was installed. The equipment and screens, the chairs, all of it reminded me of what humans had imagined a ship's bridge would look like in old science fiction vids.
"Not long," he said. "Now that I can move at real speed." Meaning, of course, that flying around Earth's solar system had been like being trapped in a tiny room. I could feel the energy coursing through him now.
"What's it like down there? Hot? Cold? What about--"
"I've put climate data on your H2s, as well as historical information, and visual records that will help you understand the context of what you're examining. We have a record of what it looked like when the Biiyan were still here."
Bea eagerly grabbed the H2 and began scrolling. "What happened to them?"
Nadim chose not to answer that. I picked up my own H2 and searched for a hint. Nothing.
Whatever ended these Bi
iyan, I thought, it seemed like Nadim didn't want to discuss it. That was . . . unsettling. "Nadim? Did the Leviathan kill them?"
"No!" That was the sharpest tone I'd ever heard him use, and the pulse of emotion that accompanied it was very clear. Outrage. Disappointment that I'd even think of it. "Of course we didn't."
"Then why won't you say what did?"
"Because--" He was quiet for a moment, and I felt him struggling against his own better judgment. I'd done that a time or two or thousand. But, like I always did, he surrendered. "Because they were wiped out in a war of their own making, one we couldn't stop. We tried to convince them not to enter into it, but . . . they didn't listen. And we lost them. It's a difficult thing for us. A failure."
I mumbled, "Sorry," and let it go. Then, as if it was an afterthought (it wasn't): "Just for clarification . . . what kind of weapons in the weapons locker?"
Nadim sighed. "Fine, Zara. I'll give you the code."
He rattled off a series of letters and numbers, so fast that he probably thought I wouldn't catch them. But I hit record on my H2 the second he said code. There was a smug amusement in his tone when he added, "Did you get that?"
"Damn right." I was grinning when I hit play.
Holding the unit overhead like a trophy, I swaggered to the armory and played the file. The lock disengaged with a satisfying hiss, and I dug in, pulling out various weapons. Some were standard ballistic guns, others looked more bizarre, and the rest I couldn't figure out at all, despite turning them over in my hands, inspecting them from all angles.
"You have no idea what that is," he observed.
"Seriously, how is this a weapon?" "This" was a perfect black cube with no switch I could detect, no pressure plates, no barrel. It looked like plastic, but felt heavier and more durable to the touch. I'd never encountered anything like it, but the sinister heft in my palm sent a wicked chill through me.
"You don't know?" His tone was grave. "Then put that back. You should only use it if we're threatened by something worse than death."
Eyes wide, I set the object back in the locker. "Seriously?"
Nadim laughed. His delight ran down my spine in liquid trills. "That's just a weight. Sometimes you need ballast on low-gravity worlds to keep your other gear from floating away."