“Where am I?” Eiron Vaikyur Erlenkov groaned hoarsely as he awoke. Memory and awareness and all-pervading pain returned a moment later. He vaguely remembered that forgetting where you are was a cardinal sin for a soldier. He didn’t actually give a damn about it, but at least his brain was still working. The important thing to focus on at the moment was survival.
He blinked a few times, glancing around the same room as in his first brief awakening. Now on the wall across from him, there was a strange elliptical light panel that caught his attention because it was flashing off and on.
Eiron was in the kind of mood that, having so recently had a reprieve from death, he was willing to accept any surprise and every minute as it came. The fact that he had been healed and was still being cared for, rather than finding himself in an Orian torture cell, gave him reason to hope that a friendly or neutral force had rescued him, and that he had some hope of reaching home once he felt better.
His mind reasoned him out of fear, and into a kind of patient curiosity. He was even able to believe in miracles.
Without warning, the wall beside the light panel literally dissolved into thin air. Watching, Eiron jerked upright. His breath caught in his throat. An open doorway appeared in the wall before him, yawning darkness beyond it.
The wall had dissolved into thin air! Fascinated more than alarmed, he quickly gathered his wits. Had he been looking all that time at something like a hologram—but far more advanced than a simple light-projection—a false image of a solid wall? And was any of the room surrounding him real, or was it all some kind of advanced scientifically generated illusion?
He had no time to wonder further.
The person who had saved his life strode through the arched doorway. Her identity was masked in a dark blue cloak. All that appeared under the hood was the line of her jaw, and a lower lip. She did not seem to be blinded, even though her eyes remained covered.
She stood just inside the door. Perhaps she was surprised to see that he was awake. Behind her, the doorway melted into the wall again. Eiron’s eyes widened further as the flashing light panel disappeared entirely. The room became once again a complete cell of smooth alloy walls, with no visible entrance or exit.
This time, Eiron’s mind couldn’t handle the shock, illusion or not. He thrashed once in the bed, moving instinctively back and away from the robed woman.
It wasn’t a dream. Suddenly he wanted out. If that illusion was nothing more than a camouflaging image, the door was still really behind it. He could find his way home on his own!
With that in mind, Eiron pushed back the covering and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He forced his coltish-stiff legs under him and stood. That was a mistake. He had no strength in his body. And a blinding pain in his head crippled his mind. He had to lean his arm and shoulder against the wall for a moment until the pain subsided. He was weak and nauseous.
Meanwhile, the woman didn’t move. She just seemed to watch him carefully. Then, she stepped back, as though giving him permission to move around freely. He didn’t know what to do, and what this meant. He decided to try his earlier thought, and head for the door. Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way around to the far wall.
When he thought he reached the door, he gave the wall a push with his left hand.
It was unquestionably solid.
He almost fell away onto the floor.
There was no way out.
The robed woman caught him with one arm. Her skin was soft and gentle, her strength like a thin steel beam supporting him.
“Take it easy. Don’t worry, you’re perfectly safe here.” The strange woman said in a voice with a pleasing resonance he immediately distrusted, or wanted to. He felt vulnerable and he hated it.
“Safe?” He was not convinced.
She nodded.
“Where did you find me?”
“On the ledge. Outside.”
“I remember!” Eiron thought out loud, with his memory returning. Everything that had happened was rapidly returning to him. “The Orian space fighters shot me down,” he admitted it, feeling just a little of lingering humiliation now that he was out of danger.
“You were badly injured,” she told him. “I brought you here to heal you. You had two very serious wounds.”
“Then thank the doctor, whoever he was,” Eiron said, suppressing a visceral memory of watching his insides spew blood like a fountain.
“Save the thanks for later. Just get better. That’s not going to ever entirely heal. You can’t do the things you’ve been doing up to now, or next time you’ll wind up dead.”
“Well, I’m not complaining, believe me. Can you help me over to the bed?” He asked. She immediately allowed him to lean on her body. In a few strides, he made it to the bed and sat down. It took a moment for him to swing his legs back. He found his energy entirely drained.
“The Orians—” he suddenly thought to wonder.
“They left.” She said. “Then another plane like yours came skirting by the cliffs—”
“Another?”
“Yes—but it left quickly.”
He was silent, but his brow drew together as he pondered this.
“They’ve given up,” he sighed. “So it seems like I’m stuck here until I can make it home on my own,” he said it in part to test her. She didn’t respond. Well, he thought, at least she didn’t disagree right away, and that gave him hope that he would make it home. He began to mentally relax.
“I guess I should thank you for saving my life,” he said. “There’s no way I can repay you for it.”
“Can you tell me who you are?” she asked, quietly, and with great dignity. “If you remember.”
“Yes, of course,” he laughed. “Eiron, Senior Ekasi Eiron Vaikyur-Erlenkov.”
She flinched suddenly. He suspected she knew of the Tiasennian commander Vaikyur. But then she said something he did not expect.
“That’s an Orian name—Erlenkov.”
“How do you know?” he demanded, suddenly angry and defensive. “It’s Tiasennian.”
“Not originally.” She returned quietly. Eiron said nothing. He felt his face grow hot.
And now he was conscious of the fact that she was staring at him. Whatever he did or said, he couldn’t hide his face.
He was tall enough, with a lean, wiry frame and the look of a runner, the look of an independent man. His nose bent just slightly to one side. He was attractive, despite the jagged scar that marred his left eyebrow. His teeth were slightly crooked—he chose not to have had them fixed. His wide-set blue eyes still held the long, thoughtful look of youth, despite his life’s experience. His short hair was straight, and sand-blond. A coarse beard was now growing along his jaw. He was moderately handsome.
His skin was only a shade or so lighter than the gray veins which spidered under the surface. Dark enough that people always noticed—Eiron Vaikyur-Erlenkov was no typical Tiasennian. No one but his grandfather and a few of the top officers knew that his father had come from Orian.
Eiron Vaikure-Erlenkov was a private man. He wasn’t the type who wore his emotions on his sleeve. His motives were often a subject of speculation. He was articulate when he spoke, and had a wry sort of humor. He knew how to make conversation when the situation called for it. But underneath his self-assured façade, he never let down the defensive barriers. He had been known to say that “giving a damn is the hardest thing to make yourself do”, but at the same time, there were some things for which he was willing to make a decisive stand. Above all other things in life he valued dignity, honor, and integrity.
He had the reputation of being a dare-devil in the sky. This behavior gave the people around him plenty to gossip about, but it was in some ways a red-herring tactic he employed to divert those around him from finding out what he was.
“You’re not going to think I’m an Orian spy, are you?” he asked. “You saw that the Orians’ Falcon fighters shot me down. And my uniform—the flying wildcat insignia—I am an officer
in the Tiasennian Army Air Corps.”
“I know that. I wasn’t questioning your loyalties. But now I have to wonder why you thought I might suspect them.”
“No reason.” He laughed, feigning a hint of wilting frustration and involuntary amusement.
“I’ll ask you about it later, then.” She said. “Don’t worry about it now. I’m not going to turn you in to anyone. I’m just curious, that’s all.”
“Oh,” he said. Maybe she was. But that didn’t explain his present strange environment, or the advanced technology that kept him confined there. He was just beginning to re-question the nature of her environment. Who was she? He wondered. Was she trustworthy?
She hid her face. Hid it. But he had a glimpse of her jaw—
Immediately she moved to pull her hood down lower. Her hand was light, the movement graceful. He could no longer see any of her face.
So. He thought to himself. She was indeed an Orian. Hiding out here, on planet Tiasenne. It made perfect sense.
“You’re smart,” he thought. “Believe me, when I get home, I’m going to thank my lucky stars I’m alive, and forget all about you, if that’s the way you want it.”
Instead of answering, she just laughed. Her laughter was musical, more like real music than laughter.
“I’m not holding you prisoner here,” she said. “I came to see if you wanted a little exercise.”
“I don’t feel well enough.”
“You’ve been sleeping. You tried to move too fast. How do you feel now?” she asked. Her arm made a slight little gesture.
Eiron had been talking so much, he stopped to reconsider his strength. He moved his head a little—no pain, there.
“Just a minute,” he said, with a hand up. He swung his legs around—they were manageable. He put them on the floor. Weak, but he had enough energy to move about. He felt extremely refreshed, as though he had just had a wonderful nap. He stood up entirely. “I think I can manage.” He said.
“Good,” she replied. “My living space is probably better than you’ll be used to at the barracks.” She said. Then she turned towards the area of the wall through which the mysterious doorway had appeared.
The light panel flashed on; then, the doorway opened up.
Eiron was too weary from his recovery to even care how impossible this all was.
“Follow me, then.” She said, heading towards the aperture.
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he said, moving cautiously. His legs were strangely warm. He must have just finally woken up.
“How long have I been in here, anyway?” He asked.
“About two tendays.”
“Has to be longer than that,” he laughed. A step away from her now, he saw that she was a little shorter than him. Under the robe she was shapely but slender, probably a young woman. She walked with a fluid agility.
“Who are you?” he asked. They had reached the doorway. It was cold in the draught, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising involuntarily. The air seemed to spark with electricity.
“Alessia,” she replied in a detached way, as though it didn’t even matter.
They quickly walked through into a large dark cavern, and the recovery room behind him vanished from view—literally.
Eiron turned around, watching open-mouthed as the opening leading to it filled gradually with a swirl of dust that formed into a solid, smooth wall of sandstone and granite.