Chapter 25: N’lln, Neek

Dear Sister,

 

I understand this letter will confuse you. I never had a chance to tell you. Couldn’t tell you. But now you’ve come back to us in gold robes. An eld.

 

I used to have dreams, as a child. I dreamt of an old gatoi with feet of roots and hair of branches. A mouthpiece to the living andal. Zie spoke of Eld and subspecies and of you. Zie said you had to leave Neek, because our people are young and bound tightly to custom, and that an eld must be worldly. I was instructed to discover your primary Talent and nurture it, to find the one thing that you excelled at beyond all other Neek. And then, when you were skilled enough, I was to push you off-planet, for it takes a great catalyst for a subspecies to flare into an eld, and you would not find that catalyst on Neek.

 

Now here you are, returned to us from exile as a ruler of our gods. Will you forgive me, for setting this chain of events in motion? For pushing you away from your family so that you could return and liberate us all? I loved you as my sister, but I need you, now, as my Eld.

—Message written on a biofilm given to Eld Atalant by Son of the Tertiary Forest Preserve, N’lln, January 27th, 2061 CE

 

JANUARY 27TH, 2061 CE

 

“We didn’t agree to this!” Atalant yelled at the screen. A bewildered Ekimet stared back at her, while on the other half of the screen, Arik looked sheepish. Behind Arik was a row of dazed flares, and behind them, a crowd of Ardulans stood in stunned silence.

Behind Atalant, uncomfortable Risalians shuffled noisily to the steady beep of the diagnostic tool the Neek healer was using on Emn. The sounds pushed Atalant further into her rage. She was so close to pulling this whole religious bullshit off without a hitch. Why now? What would possess that damn planet to come now, once all the fighting was over and no one was in any danger anymore?

Arik rubbed at his forehead. His fingernails were encrusted with the red dirt of the Eiean moon, and his tunic was sweat stained. “I didn’t do it alone. One eld can’t move Ardulum, former flare or not. I landed back on Ardulum after some planting and the planet asked me. Asked all the remaining flares, too. Every Ardulan on-planet heard the request. We couldn’t say no, especially—” His voice lowered. “—especially when you think about what this will mean for the flares, and for their reintegration.”

Atalant kicked at the console in front of her. She could feel what it meant as the waves of awe and praise from the Ardulan population rolled over her. Andal damn her telepathy!

“Fuck!”

A Risalian in gray cleared hir throat and was hushed immediately by Markin Pihn. A mild mental rebuke came from Emn, clouded by whatever drugs the healer was administering.

“Atalant,” Emn croaked from her crescent bed, soothing her reproach.

Atalant tried to pull back her temper, if only to get Emn to stay put. “It’s just—” She turned to Yorden, hoping for some sympathy, and saw only poorly concealed amusement. “Yeah. Laugh. I appreciate what this has done for Ardulum and the flares, but the Neek will never shut up about Ardulum now. Any chance of being with my family is gone.” Atalant tugged at the neckline of her robes. “I am never going to be able to take off these damn golden robes, not even when I’m not wearing them.”

“You do have a home, you know,” Ekimet offered. Zir tone was meant to be soothing, but it only grated more. “Do we have any idea how it got here?” Ekimet asked Arik. “I mean, the mechanics of it, not the energy it took. Did you actually direct, like in a normal move, or did the planet just use you all like batteries? I already tried to ask Ardulum directly, but it’s not giving me straight answers, per usual.”

Arik ruffled his short, black hair and shook his head. “The flares and I facilitated the move. I directed, but only for the departure. As to where we were going…I just assumed it was answering Atalant’s or Emn’s call.”

“Not me,” Emn managed. “At least, I don’t think so, but there was a lot of cellulose flying around, at the end.”

Atalant turned from the screen to see the Ardulan pushing the healer away and trying to sit up. There was no new blood, which was good, but the stained floor and bed padding was a stark reminder of Emn’s very recent condition. “I’m fine,” Emn said as she again pushed the healer away. “I can take it from here. I just needed a bit to catch my breath.”

Atalant had serious doubts that Emn was in any state to heal herself, but refrained from suggesting otherwise. “Well, just stay there, Arik. And keep everyone on-planet, except maybe send a healer to look over—” She glanced at Emn, caught the warning look. “To look over Salice. She got pretty banged up during the battle. We’re getting on Miketh’s skiff in a few minutes and are heading to Neek. We have to sort through everything down there first, especially the crowds.” Oh, and what crowds there would be. Atalant could almost picture the waves of fanaticism. “We can figure out planetary mechanics later.”

“You are correct about the crowds, Eld Atalant.” Ekimet’s face on the screen was replaced by an aerial shot of the landing pad. Two Keft and four Yishin ships were already parked, and their occupants dazedly pushed through the crowd, buffered by the Heaven Guard. The crowd was split between Neek that were trying to touch the other subspecies and those that were on their knees, praying. Nicholas darted around the worshippers, trying to create a path Atalant was inevitably going to be forced to walk down. The midday sunlight shining down on the people was tinted blue, just like in that damn poem from The Book of the Uplifting, because of course it was. Atalant swore at the feed.

“I muted the audio to save your ears, but the Neek are singing one of the old hymns.” Ekimet panned the screen. The Neek were packed in shoulder to shoulder, with more arriving as they spoke. “I don’t think they’re going to disperse anytime soon, Eld Atalant,” zie added. “They’re demanding you.”

“I’m not walking through that crowd again,” Atalant muttered. She walked to the bed and knelt, facing Emn, who had mercifully fallen asleep. Before she could speak, Yorden was next to her, his heavy hand on her shoulder.

“She’s fine, Atalant. I’ll make sure that Ardulan healer has a look at her after Salice. She should have her voice box checked anyway.” He winked. “But you are going down to that crowd, and you are going to walk through them like the damned god you are.”

Atalant stood and faced her captain. He was thinner than she remembered—and older, like age had finally caught up with him. His graying beard was thicker, eating up his face and neck, but the mirth she’d always appreciated was still there, lurking underneath the layers of hair.

“What then?” she asked him. “After I toss my people back into dogma, what then? Keep lying for the rest of my life?”

Yorden laughed and shook his head. Salice came up beside him and, much to Atalant’s surprise, took his hand. There was so much more behind the Ardulan’s eyes than Atalant had seen before, she realized. Something that Yorden had managed to bring forth?

“Then, you’re going to come back to your family,” Yorden said. He grabbed the fabric of Atalant’s robes between a thumb and forefinger and let the material slide between his fingers. “Whether we’re on the Lucidity, on Ardulum, or even on Neek, it doesn’t matter. We’re still a team.”

Arik’s voice cut through. “I’ll keep trying to talk to Ardulum. I’ll be up here, when you need me. And Atalant?” She looked over her shoulder at the screen. “I’m glad everything is all right, or as all right as it could be, all things considered. I’ll start preparing saplings for transport. From the scans of your homeworld, it looks like you need them. With your permission, of course. We’ve got Neek’s original species and variant on file. We won’t plant anything exotic. We could return the forests to their original state, even, if you wanted.”

Atalant brightened. They had a chance to make things right. To fix the ecological mess Ardulum had imposed on Neek all those hundreds of years ago. “Thank you. A team to help plant them would also be useful. Maybe if Ardulans work alongside Neek, they won’t be quite so mystical.”

Ekimet laughed. “I don’t think that’s how it works out, Eld Atalant, but we shall see. I’ll meet you at the temple. There’s a ground skiff waiting for you at the landing pad. I’m going to take the Keft and the Yishin to the temple now.”

The screen went dark. Atalant kissed Emn on the cheek before turning away. With Yorden’s words heavy in her mind, she followed Miketh up the boarding ramp to the skiff and prepared to, once again, return to Neek.

 

IT WAS SO much louder than it had been the last time. There were no rope barriers set up now, but the crowd stilled as Atalant stepped onto the planet. A ground skiff was hovering only a few meters away, and through the clear front panel, Atalant could make out Nicholas waving. His light-green flight suit—Heaven Guard standard issue under the robes—had oil marks on it. She loved that he had been up there with them. Not flying, likely, but directing, maybe. Perhaps being someone’s extra pair of eyes. It would have been cramped, with two people in a settee, but the damn kid had done it. He could go home a hero, if he wanted, contract or no. But, he wouldn’t. She knew that. He belonged with them, on the Lucidity.

Nicholas grinned at her. Atalant couldn’t help but grin back.

She saw Tabit a few yards away, laughing with another guard. Did she know she had died? Atalant herself had no memories of the experience, but Tabit seemed…happy. Unconcerned that parts of her had been floating in space just a few hours ago. They’d have to talk about it sometime, Atalant supposed. Sometime, but not now.

She took a step forward. Then, another. There were no longer any sounds. The city’s scrubbers had finally removed most of the smoke, and the sky was streaked only lightly with red. Atalant allowed herself a long look at the planet that “burned” above her, like the old poems described. It was closer than any of their moons and filled the sky with blue ribbons of some compound Atalant couldn’t recognize. There would be tides and other gravitational issues to deal with almost immediately, but for the moment, Atalant let herself imagine being a Neek hundreds of years ago, seeing Ardulum appear in the evening sky, having no concept of interstellar travel. Of meeting technologically advanced beings, of trying to wrestle with the physics of a traveling planet. Andal help her, she was still trying to wrestle with the physics of that.

“It’s a beautiful gift you’ve brought.” The voice startled Atalant, and she shivered despite the familiarity. She broke her gaze from Ardulum and turned to her brother, who stood next to her in the oasis amongst the crowd.

“Eld Ekimet said you went home, after the fires were contained. I’ve been back since, with father and talther. We’ve moved back in. I saw that you went into your room.” His voice faltered, and anger flushed Atalant’s face. “The boxes. The labels. It’s not like that, Eld Atalant. I mean, it was—it is—but, well.” He put a hand into his pocket, pulled out a rolled biofilm, and handed it to her.

“You found everything except the one thing you needed.” Her brother reached out and tapped her cheek, as he had when they were children. “Do you remember the day the neighbor burned your doll? It was a catalyst of some sort, I think. My dreams started then. Explained in there.”

Atalant unrolled the film and nodded, not meeting her brother’s eyes. A lot of things had happened on that day—most vividly, her own dreams had begun, which then haunted her for the next decade.

Her brother shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’re welcome to stay with us, Eld, of course, whenever you’d like. There will always be a room for you there, even if it technically belongs to Exile.” Atalant began to read the text on the film, and her brother took a step back. “I tried my best to follow the message, although I didn’t understand it all. I just hope… I hope my sister has found happiness. I know she can’t ever truly come home again, but I do love her, as do father and talther. We’re proud of her and the path she chose to follow.”

Atalant finished reading the text. Without a word, she rolled up the film, placed it in her back pocket, and walked through the crowd to the hovering skiff. She didn’t look back. She wanted to, but she kept her head forward. No one needed to see her tears, especially not a man who had already lost his sister twice. She would not reopen that wound in him, nor in the rest of her family.

 

ATALANT SLEPT. IT was afternoon when she finally reached her bed in the temple, and dusk when Emn was placed next to her. It was pre-dawn when Atalant next awoke, Emn spooning around her. The younger woman was covered to her chin with rayon and cotton blankets, but when Atalant turned, she could see the side of Emn’s face and, under the translucent skin, the geometric patchwork of veins. Fuzzy, like a stretched tattoo, but still there.

Atalant moved from the bed, careful not to wake Emn, and sat at the open window. She watched the third moon lower in the Neek sky and the first become obscured behind Ardulum. Curious, Atalant reached out to the andal of Neek and past it to the andal of Ardulum. She pushed past thin, reedy voices and thick, syrupy voices until she found the one she was looking for.

Atalant. The voice rumbled in her head.

Ardulum, she returned. How did you come here without the help of the Eld?

The tone of the voice changed and curled through her mind like a trail of smoke. Through the power of Corccinth and her flares and the waypoint that is Emn. Also, I am not wholly incapable. I moved myself long before Ardulans colonized me.

That was sufficiently vague to not really answer Atalant’s question, but specific enough to dissuade additional questions. Atalant changed tactics. Why did you come?

I was called.

Atalant hissed in frustration. Would you please be more specific?

Your questions are not sufficiently focused, Ardulum responded. I came because I was called, and I helped because I was asked. I protect you because you protect me.

Did all sentient trees have ridiculously circular logic? Atalant shot back a retort. If you’re so damn responsive to the needs of your people, why do you go around destroying planets? You’re sentient, far more so than the waffling andal that normally fills my head with wisps. An organism’s basic desire to reproduce, I can understand. This…genetic conquering of yours is disgusting.

The words that came back were tempered and laced with a trace of humor. The desires of the Ardulans are not necessarily yours, Atalant. So, too, are the voices of the young andal not necessarily mine. I can help direct one, but not the other. I need partners for that.

That wasn’t the response Atalant had expected. It was far too logical, and she wasn’t in the mood for logic. Frustrated, Atalant was about to retort when Emn stirred.

“Morning,” Emn yawned sleepily. She stretched and then sat up, rubbing sand from her eyes. “Have you had a chance to look at the petitions?”

Ardulum slipped from her mind.

Atalant looked around the room as she came back to sit on the bed. “Petitions?”

Emn pointed to a stack of brown papers on a small wood table near the door. It looked like it was ready to topple. “They’re letters,” she said, “from the Neek people to you. I looked through them the last time I was up. There’s a note on top from your uncle. Religious services have been going nonstop since Ardulum appeared. He doesn’t know what to tell them. The Keft and the Yishin have been talking to the Neek, but it seems to be driving the religious fanaticism, not grounding the science.” Emn brushed some hair from Atalant’s forehead. “I think the show in the sky was a little too much for your people. They want the Ardulans to come down to Neek. They want to see you.”

Any peace Atalant had gained through sleep bled away. “The replanting teams haven’t shown up yet? Arik should have gathered enough saplings together by now. Ardulum would be pleased with that, I’m sure. The Neek could help. I guess I could…give a talk? I don’t think I could do a ceremony. Maybe a…a lecture? On genetics?”

Emn released Atalant and shifted so they were sitting across from one another on the bed. She didn’t speak, but the look on her face was a strong rebuttal to Atalant’s suggestion.

They’re not going to recover from Ardulum’s arrival, are they? Atalant asked.

Emn got down from the bed. She walked to the small table, took a handful of the papers, and brought them back to the mattress, where she laid them out side by side. “Read them, love,” she said. “These aren’t letters of anger. These people are happy. They feel comforted.”

Atalant skimmed over the letters. When she got to the last one, she picked it up and held it out to Emn. “No, not all of them. This one is from a scientist demanding we allow natural regeneration in the plantations, and only with stock from unaltered old growth.” When Emn didn’t take the paper, she put it back down next to the others. “I’m sure there are more like this one. If I bring the Ardulans down, if I go to a service in golden robes and allow things to simply carry on as they were, I will destroy people like this. People like me. And if I stay here, with these markings…” She didn’t add anything about the biofilm still stashed in the pocket of her flight suit, which was crumbled in a heap.

Emn brought her head forward and brushed Atalant’s lips with her own. Unwilling to let this brief encounter be the only one of its kind this morning, Atalant pushed forward until Emn’s tongue was in her mouth. Emn’s hands found her hips and pulled them together, melded them into one form. Atalant lingered in the intimacy and took strength from its depth. But, Emn wasn’t going to let her shirk the conversation. The younger woman’s lips lingered another heartbeat and then pulled back. Atalant grumbled.

I deserve a break too, you know.

Emn pulled Atalant back to her shoulder. You do, but you won’t let yourself truly rest until you make a decision about Neek. I know you too well.

“What would you do?” she asked as Emn’s fingers trailed over Atalant’s exposed shoulder. “If you were me. Explain the science, or let the planet burn our sky and the minds of my people to religious ash?”

Emn took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’d be just as torn. I know how badly you want vindication, Atalant, and how much the distance to your family hurts you.” She stroked the inside of Atalant’s hip and then tugged, pulling Atalant partially down on top of her. Her hands slipped under the waistband of Atalant’s pants. “You’re not a cruel person, however, and denying the Neek a chance to see more of their gods could be construed as such.”

Is this an invitation? Atalant asked as she moved to her elbows and looked down at Emn.

Focus, Emn responded. She smiled up at Atalant. “You could do both, you know.”

Atalant chuckled. “I’d rather kiss than talk.”

With an exasperated sigh, Emn grabbed Atalant’s backside and pulled her back down. The resulting kiss was heated, insistent, and Atalant’s stuk changed consistency. Atalant had a moment of hope that Emn might leave the conversation until morning, but was disappointed when Emn pulled back a moment later. “I meant about Ardulum and your people.”

Sighing, Atalant sat up and moved to her knees. “This is frustrating,” she grumbled.

“You have to make a decision,” Emn countered.

“How?” she asked. “The planet is already here. I can either explain the science that I don’t fully understand myself, or I can babble on about mystic trees. There really isn’t a halfway point. I can’t just give science to a small portion of the population and leave them to battle it out with the rest.”

Emn reached over to the nightstand and opened the top drawer. From within, she drew out a thin, rigid biofilm and placed it on the bed between them. When Atalant still looked confused, Emn turned the film on and tapped a series of commands. Text began to scroll across the screen.

“The Book of the Uplifting?” Atalant picked up the film, read the first few verses, and then put it back down. “I don’t get it.”

Emn took the film and handed it back to Atalant. “The holy books, Atalant. They tell your people how to interpret Ardulum, and for centuries, they’ve just had these three. You’re an eld. You’re the Neek exile, the heretic, the daughter redeemed. Your words mean more to your people than even the other elds’. You can shape the religion, Atalant. Change it…although I’m not sure you could be present to do it. Gods are a lot more powerful when they’re absent.” Emn pointed to the window. The moons were still visible, but the sky was pinking into morning. Their suite was high enough in the temple that Atalant could see the charred remains of a plantation, devoid of all andal trees.

“You say plantation farming is killing local species. Give them another way to grow andal. Coppice your old growth onto the saplings the Ardulans bring down. Talk to them about genetics, and how modification can bring benefits if used correctly.” Emn leaned forward and kissed Atalant on the cheek. “If the Neek won’t make technological progress, then make that a tenant of worship. Let them come to Ardulum while it’s here. Let the Neek see how the Ardulans interact with the Keft and the Yishin, and especially the Risalians. Paint the Ardulans as explorers, and you’ll encourage the Neek to be the same. You have so much power, Atalant, so much influence. Use it to help your people.”

Atalant sat back, shocked at the suggestion. Who was she to write another holy book, to purposefully mislead her people and perpetuate a lie? “That has to be an abuse of power,” she said, more to herself than Emn.

“I don’t think so.” Emn brought a handful of paper from the nightstand to the bed and spread it across the surface. “Trying to convince the entire population of Neek that Ardulans are normal sentients will take you a lifetime. It would crush many, including your family. Especially your uncle.” Emn’s eyes locked on Atalant’s, and the pilot was pulled into Emn’s mind. You owe the scientists and journalists and the others like them who helped you on your journey, but maybe, just maybe, you could write it so they could find the truths they’re looking for, too.

That…seemed reasonable. Atalant tried to argue against it in her head, but Emn’s words kept coming back around. It was a good idea, and one that might walk the line her people were balancing upon.

“Would you help?” Atalant asked Emn in a whisper.

Emn nodded, a smile playing at the edges of her mouth. “Of course. Not with the writing—that has to be in your voice—but with ideas, sure.”

The whine of a settee engine sounded in the distance. Soon, people would be at their door, checking to see if they were awake and in need of food. Atalant would have to talk with her uncle and her people. She’d have to do it in golden robes, whether she liked it or not. There would probably be a few ceremonies and dinners and meetings with the other subspecies and the Risalians. There was a lot to wrap up, but maybe it wouldn’t be as complicated as Atalant had thought.

“A lot of it would be about you, though,” Atalant said after a moment as she mulled the implications of such a book. “About us. I wouldn’t have done any of this if you hadn’t come to me.”

“That seems like a really nice place to start. With us.” Emn leaned over the side of the bed and pulled Atalant’s flight suit from the floor, as well as her golden robes. She pushed the papers to one side, laid the clothes on the bedsheets, and then pulled her blue dress from the top of the nightstand and placed it just to the right of Atalant’s robes. “It’s a good story, even if you’re not a believer.”

Atalant blinked in surprise. It hadn’t occurred to her that Emn might have swallowed the Ardulan religion. After all she had seen, it seemed so…unlikely. “Emn, the planet is just a bunch of sentient andal. You know that. The Eld are just linked up to it. We’re sentient mouthpieces to sentient trees. The planet is just a big root ball that propels itself through space. It’s just weird science and physics.”

Emn tucked a stray lock of hair behind Atalant’s ear and then trailed a fingertip across Atalant’s jawline. Atalant caught unexpected emotion in the gesture, fragments of unfamiliarity and sadness tempered by a desire to protect and a very fierce love.

“Understanding the underlying mechanism doesn’t make it any less awe-inspiring,” Emn whispered into Atalant’s ear. An image of Emn’s arm, stenciled with her markings, filled Atalant’s mind. “What amazing evolution it took to get to this place. What string of unlikely events led even to you finding me, to finding Ardulum, to ascending to an eld. It’s beautiful, Atalant, and I’m proud to be a part of it.”

As Emn removed her shirt and reclined back into the pillows, Atalant followed. When Emn’s hand slid down the pilot’s stomach and lingered just shy of its target, Atalant flipped to her back and covered Emn’s hand with her own, completing the journey. When their bodies tangled together and the rest of the world fell away, it was Emn’s words that stayed in Atalant’s mind and allowed her to make the decision.

She would permanently exile herself from Neek and, in doing so, save her people.

But this time, in her exile, she wouldn’t be alone.