New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

The watch after Darkeve was, in Urle’s opinion, the most boring.

The partying lasted a good twenty-four to thirty hours, but even the most energetic of the revellers began to grow weary after that.

Then was the time of thousands of drones cleaning up and lonely watches.

And nine months after that, he thought in slight amusement, a baby boom.  Happened every year.

They had only twelve on the command deck right now, the bare minimum.

The ship was as safe as could be; they were alone, deep in space well within Union territory.  There were no known objects flying through this sector.  Even the light of their presence was years away from any outposts or ships.

So it was almost just a formality to have anyone on duty, he thought.  The ship’s AIs were more than capable of running unsupervised for a time.

Not that he was complaining.  This was his chosen path, and people were out here because they wanted to be.  It would be easy to send out probes, to sit back in one’s home system, and never see things with your own eyes or experience them.

But the same could be said of almost everything.  You could let all your art and stories be written by AI, let them make your food, let them control everything.

But what would be the point of living, then?

People would just let themselves be fully replaced.

He sighed, shifting in his seat.  The quiet hours left a lot of time for contemplation.

The command center doors opened, startling him.  His system normally informed him of anyone who was approaching this area.

Kell came in, and he relaxed somewhat.  His diplomatic credentials were one possible reason for the lack of warning.

But Urle found that he could not relax as much as he’d like; Kell’s presence seemed more over-bearing than usual, and his real skin crawled as the being approached, as if a sphere of his disturbing presence was washing over him.

Maybe that was how it worked, he thought.  Aside from the purely-subjective feel of it, it didn’t show up on scanners, not even their most sensitive krahteon arrays.

“Good evening, Ambassador,” he said.  “What has you up at this hour?”

“The ship is quieter,” Kell replied.  He did not look at Urle, but stepped up next to the command chair, looking out at the screens that showed blank space around them.

“Yeah, the party has finally died down.  Now it’s peaceful.”

Urle followed Kell’s gaze, looking out at space.  “Not much around us to see right now.”

“I do like seeing the stars in novel arrangements,” Kell said.

“I guess you must be pretty used to Earth’s skies,” Urle noted.  “You know there’s not as much variation in color as you might expect in the skies of Earth-like worlds.  Most of the times the sky is still just blue.  It can be other colors with a lot of dust or a less Earth-like atmosphere, but that’s not as common as you might think . . .”

“Mm,” Kell replied.

Urle let the topic drop.

“Did you read the information packet we sent you about the holiday?” he asked.

“Yes,” Kell said.

“What do you make of it?”

“The idea of warding off evil spirits is not a new concept for your kind,” Kell replied.  “But at best it is merely an attempt to bring order and some measure of control to a universe you have no sway over.”

Urle could see the truth in that.  “It’s more just a cultural tradition at this point.  We do enjoy a reason to celebrate.”

“Perhaps the wrong way to go,” Kell said.  “You are not wrong to fear the dark.”

Urle was finding that he really resented Kell’s attitude sometimes.  He took a moment to let the annoyance fade before he spoke again.

“Do your people have any holidays?  Special times?  Shoggoths, that is.”  Not . . . whatever this sort of meat puppet was.  He could still recall, with some horror, how Kell had told him that this body was merely a marionette, controlled by the true being that he had never actually met.  That was, Kell had said, something beyond them.

“No,” Kell replied, taking a long time in answering.

Of course not, Urle thought.

“I’m surprised I didn’t see you out there today,” he said.

Kell looked down at him.  “You did.”

Urle paused.  Kell could look different at will; it was something he’d seen with his own eyes, even if he could not really explain it.  The sheer amount of energy needed to rearrange the cells in a body alone would be huge.

Yet Kell’s body always looked, if anything, cold in infrared.

“Did you wear a costume?”

Kell’s look turned to that look he so often wore; a sort of steady disappointment mixed with superiority.

“This is my costume,” Kell replied.

Urle felt himself shudder slightly, and he looked away.

Kell kept standing there for a long time, merely staring out into the darkness.

Urle felt like he, personally, did not have to look far to find it.

---

FINIS

---

< Ep 11 part 32 | Ep 12 Part 1 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

“That was the strangest movie I have ever seen,” Jaya declared.

She turned to Apollonia, who was grinning like a madwoman – though with a hint of nervousness.  “I had a marvelous time,” Jaya added honestly.

“It was quite silly,” Y said.  “Despite the abysmal acting, however, I did find the special effects of the space sharks consuming people to be quite effective.  I can imagine to many they were traumatizing!”

“Oh, yeah, I heard that when Shark Hole 2 came out, people vomited in the theater!” Apollonia said.

“I heard that, too!” Ann replied.  She suddenly looked sheepish.  “Two of my friends left the theater when the baby sharks ate that one man from the inside out.”

“It was kinda long, like ten full minutes of munching,” Apollonia agreed.  “But I guess they had to really get his death throes in there.”

Y seemed fascinated.  “I may have to look up this movie.”

“I think I’ll pass on that one,” Jaya said.

Brooks seemed more thoughtful.  “I was surprised by the amount of sex.  After the third time a couple was eaten during the throes of passion you would think they’d realize it was attracting the space sharks.”

“It’s a horror movie, people always have to be banging,” Apollonia said.

“Ah, yes,” Brooks said.  “Of course.  But I’m glad Urle wasn’t here with his kids . . .”

“I was going to have it skip those parts if they were!” Apollonia said quickly.

Jaya laughed, then yawned.  “I am quite tired – and I imagine you are exhausted, Apollonia.”

The yawn proved contagious, and Apollonia followed suit.  “Well now that you remind me . . . yeah.”

Y studied her.  “You are quite past your bed time,” he said.  “Ah, how unfortunate you did not get to see all twenty of my costumes.  I had many interesting examples.”

“Show me tomorrow?” Apollonia asked.

“You will have to possess yourself with patience and see the ones you missed next year,” Y said with mock-gravity.

Ann waved.  “I’m heading out, thank you for the movie!”

“You’re welcome!” Apollonia called back.

Jaya moved to follow her.  “We’ll run later than normal tomorrow,” she said to Apollonia.  “Because otherwise we’d have to be up in . . . Dark, just three hours.”

“Oh thank the stars,” Apollonia muttered.

Brooks smiled.  “You can have the day off tomorrow, Apple.  And thanks for the film, I enjoyed it.”

As they left, Y turned to follow, but Apollonia caught his arm.

“One last thing,” she said to him.  “I had a thought.  Or, well, Kiseleva said something to me that gave me a thought.”

“Yes?” Y prompted patiently.

“She was telling me that I should try to figure out what I want to do, you know?  Not just what I think I should do.  And I was thinking . . . I want to help people.  So what if I went into medical?  I mean, I’m not doctor material or anything, of course, but surely there’s something I could do!”

She bit her lip.  “Right?”

Y paused, seeming surprised by her suggestion.  “I believe that this is a very interesting idea, Nor.  There is much merit in it – and let us speak on it again tomorrow.”

Apollonia smiled.  “So . . . you’re okay with the idea?”

“Of course I am,” Y said.  “Now, good night – and happy Darkeve, my friend.”

Y patted her shoulder, giving it a squeeze, then stepped out of the door, leaving Apollonia alone.

But, despite the exhaustion and the emotional rollercoaster of the day, she felt better than she had in a long time.

---

< Ep 11 part 31 | Ep 11 Epilogue >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Cenz returned his focus to Jophiel.

“Your people have never hurt each other, have they?”

“We are not capable of it.  There are legends, stories, of some that learned ways . . . but if there was ever any truth to it, it was lost a long time ago!  For as far back as any of us can truly remember, we have never hurt each other.  But . . .  But humans, Dessei, these other species – they revel in it!”

“It was the play, wasn’t it?” Cenz asked.

“I knew they’d had conflicts,” Jophiel said.  “But I had never seen it.  I did not know how . . . horrible it was.  They cut into each other, their life bleeds away slowly.  They suffer – they cause each other to suffer!  How could they do that?”

“This was a great problem for my people to tackle as well,” Cenz told her.  “When we first met them, we learned of their wars.  They could not even count their conflicts.  They could only even estimate how many died, for so many were lost that it proved impossible to know the exact numbers.  They had invented ways of killing each other of incredible complexity and nuance – developed defenses and then new methods to counter those.  It was a terrible form of evolution that all of them, even the Bicet, had done for ages.”

He let out a sad light that translated into a sigh.  “We could not understand that.  How even the wise Bicet could do such things – even if much of it was in the past.  But then we were attacked by an enemy.  We could not exchange Polyps with the Aeena, nor would they speak to us.  We had very little in the way of defenses.”

“Did you learn to fight and kill?” Jophiel asked, voice laced with horror.

“Yes,” Cenz said.  “We did not like it.  But those other species of the Union came to help us.  They fought for us at first.  They sacrificed themselves – they died – to protect my people.  They did so without pausing to ask what reward they would get.  It was, to them, simply something they must do.”

“To kill?”

“To protect,” Cenz corrected.  “They did not want to kill.  I saw them attempt to show mercy, to not kill their foes.  It happens in all of their wars, to some degree.  At times, their sense of love, of mercy, overcomes their other instincts.

“But most importantly of all, Jophiel, I understood finally; my people all did.  They did not fight out of cruelty or malice.  They fought in their history because they had reason to.  Sometimes it was wrong.  But many times it was because they wished to survive against a danger that could not be talked to or dissuaded.  For them, their history is not one of total cooperation and friendship.  They struggled in many ways.  They are what their reality created them to be – but they have also striven to rise above it.  They have imagined a universe where they can be peaceful, and see it as a goal worth seeking.  They sacrificed themselves to save my people because they could do no less.”

Jophiel fell quiet again.

Cenz wondered if his words had any effect upon her.  Perhaps the ideas were simply too strange for her to understand.  Star Angels were, so far as he could tell, nearly innocent beings.

“Do you think that Tred could ever kill?” Jophiel asked.  Her words were soft.  Barely a fluctuation in the spectrum.

Cenz took time to consider it.

“Yes,” he said.  “I do not think he would ever want to.  I think it would cost him a great deal – he would always remember it and feel great guilt.  But he would, if he felt he had to.”

“What could compel him to do such a thing?” Jophiel asked.  “I thought I knew him . . . but if he could do that, I do not know him at all.”

Cenz spoke again.  “He would do it only to protect another.  Or himself – but I suspect that he would hesitate to do it for himself.  No – I think most certainly that he would only do it for others.”

Jophiel was quiet again.

He waited.  A minute passed, then two.  Five.

Time had less meaning to her people, he knew.

“Thank you for coming to speak to me,” Jophiel said finally.

“I hope I have rendered some assistance,” Cenz said.

“Yes,” Jophiel replied.  She disconnected the call, and Cenz was alone.

He sat there for a time.  The plasma fields had all fallen back into normal levels.  The techs were still trying to puzzle out what had happened.  Later, Cenz would have to tell them that it was simply a difficult moment for the Ambassador and to not fret it too much.

He saw, too, that Jophiel had turned off all outside camera views again, returning to her isolation.

He sat a little longer.  He, too, looked inward, focusing on himself.  When he did that, he could suss out each individual in his collective; take a sample of the thoughts and mood of each of his members.

There was one among him, an elder by his species’ terms, that had been on a colony world that had been on the front of the war.

It had been in a different collective then, a being who had stood out of the water, away from all shelter, watching as the fleets of the Aeena and the Sapient Union had clashed.

They’d been in orbit, and he’d seen the Union ships dive deeper into the atmosphere than had been wise.  The Aeena pushed them further, hoping to put them into destabilizing orbits, knowing the Union ships would put themselves between their enemies and the Corals below who they defended.

Some ships had gone down as a result of sinking too far into the atmosphere.  A blaze of glory, the veterans called it with a stinging pride later.

They’d not attempted much maneuver; they wanted to take the shots so that they’d not reach the surface of the world and the civilians below.

It had been a brutal battle.  The casualties had been in the millions.

But almost entirely among the crew of those ships.  They had not broken, no matter how much damage they had taken.

They’d had the numerical superiority over the Aeena.  They’d had the tactical superiority, when a second force had come in, catching the Aeena between two combat fleets.

They’d let the Aeena escape, rather than risk sending more debris down to the world.

A terrible defeat, some had called it.  To the surviving crews of those ships, they had called it their finest hour.

That last part of himself that had seen it, he communicated with directly.

“Did I tell it well enough?” he asked.

It mattered, he knew.  And he did not know if he had done well enough in explaining it to Jophiel.  If he had failed to impart just how important it all was – he felt that that would be a failure, an unworthy act on his part to such a memory.

The old Polyp could only communicate slowly and simply when viewed in isolation like this.

“Yes,” it told him.

---

< Ep 11 part 30 | Ep 11 Part 32 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Cenz’s system told him that Jophiel’s drone had returned to its charging port, and they were currently isolated in Reactor Seven.

As he walked there, he noted that the Ambassador was not currently streaming data from any of the external cameras.

That was odd; the Star Angel usually had several streams going, even if they were in their resting state, which seemed to occur about every seventy-two hours.

It seemed as if the being had deliberately shut itself off from the outside.

He checked back in the data logs; this had occurred other times, but rarely.  After their time on Gohhi, however, there had been a large uptick in such events.

He entered the reactor area.  A handful of personnel were working, the third watch.  They were a mix of fusion techs and xenobiologists, the latter of whom had the task of making sure that Jophiel’s environment remained suitable to her.

“Officer on deck,” the call came as he entered.

“As you were,” he said, saluting back casually.  The officers nodded, smiling to him, and returned to their duties.

No one was at the communication station.

Cenz sat down awkwardly; his water-filled suit pushed the weight limits of many chairs he encountered, though this one was solid enough that he felt secure.  He had, at times, crushed chairs, something that he found somewhat embarrassing though no one seemed to hold it against him.

He jacked into the communication port.

“My apologies, Ambassador,” he said by way of greeting.  “It is Science Commander Cenz.  I was hoping we may speak.”

There was a pause; longer than normal.  However, there did seem to be a reaction within the fusion chamber.  They were aware of him.

The external feeds activated, viewing the entire room before viewing his position.

Perhaps it was scanning for someone in particular?

“Hello, Cenz,” the Ambassador finally said.  “It is nice to see you again!  I greatly enjoyed our time viewing the ‘parade’ as you called it.”

“I can, of course, say the same, Ambassador,” Cenz said truthfully.

“You know, we do a similar thing in my home space,” Jophiel continued.  “There is a cultural event where we line up and move in a great chain.  Through it we share feelings and knowledge.  I had the pleasure of being involved in one of the greatest chains of all, where we nearly circled our entire star!”

“That is most impressive,” Cenz said.  “I can only imagine how many of your people would be needed for such an endeavor.”

“We did have to stretch the definition of a chain slightly; the gaps between individuals was rather high.  But we considered it a great success all the same.”

“I am most pleased to hear that,” Cenz replied.

“Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?” Jophiel continued.

“I wish to ask you a few questions,” Cenz said.  “I hope they are not intrusive.”

“I do not mind answering if I can,” they replied.  “But you must know I am not a ‘scientist’, and sometimes such questions do not translate well, so I hope it is nothing too technical.”

“I quite understand – sometimes such translations are quite difficult for my people as well,” Cenz said.  “I have told you, I believe, that my kind are not individuals, but a collection of beings who share an intelligence.”

“You did!  It’s very interesting,” Jophiel replied.  “It is only somewhat different from other beings, isn’t it?  They, too, are made up of collections of cells that communicate.”

“In a sense,” Cenz replied.  “But each of the Polyps that make up ‘me’ is its own being that has its own will.  Individually, we are not that intelligent, admittedly.  We could hold a very simple conversation at most, and it would take all of our focus.  A great deal of effort is required for us to reconcile the different needs and desires of each Polyp.  You could say we have become very skilled diplomats as a result.”

“No wonder you are so well liked,” Jophiel replied.  “I read the public ‘blogs’ people put out, you know.  I don’t always understand them, but I do hear you mentioned sometimes, and always in the most positive terms.”

“Really?” Cenz said, genuinely surprised.

“Oh, yes.  Even . . .”  Jophiel trailed off.

“Yes?” Cenz prompted.  “Forgive my ego, but I am curious what you were going to say.”

“Ah, just . . .  Even Tred speaks well of you.  You are always kind to him,” Jophiel said.  The voice sounded strange, though.  It was hard to know if it was an artifact of translation, or a genuine emotion coming through.

“Ambassador, how do you feel?” Cenz asked.

Jophiel was quiet a moment.  “My condition is fine.”

It seemed an evasion.  “Emotionally?”

They were quiet longer.  “Why do you ask that, Cenz?”

“I ask, Ambassador, because I worry that something is bothering you.  I am not a medical professional, nor a psychologist, but I do hope I could be of some service if you are experiencing distress.”

Jophiel was quiet.

He waited; a minute passed.  Then another.

“Ambassador?” he prompted.

“Do your people go to war?” Jophiel asked suddenly.

“We have never declared a war against another,” Cenz replied truthfully.  “Once, we were attacked by an enemy who viewed us as inferior and sought to destroy us.  But with the help of the Union, we defended our people.  Though . . . several of our colonies were destroyed and many of my people were killed.”

Jophiel was slow in replying.  “I see.”

Then, after another pause, they spoke again.  “I can imagine that was a great loss.  So many entire collectives of Polyps gone.  That is not normally how it goes for your people, is it?”

“No, it is not,” Cenz replied.  “You are quite right that it was traumatic.  The individual Polyps that make up any of my people can move freely between one collective and another.  They vary in age and experience.  I tell you that this is how we have avoided having war for as long as our recorded history; no matter what material conditions might compel conflict, we are all collectives.  When there are differences, we can exchange polyps with other collectives – and through them understand differences.  In this way . . . no collective can bring themselves to starve another, to exterminate them for having differences.  Because they are us and we are them.”

“What happened if one collective did not wish to share?”

“They would die off,” Cenz said.  “We have no set lifespans, because we can continually replenish.  If you do not exchange, you will weaken over time.  Your thinking will become simple and predictable as the Polyps grow too strongly in synchrony.  They will all grow old and die together, and then the whole will perish.”

“I see,” Jophiel said.  She was quiet again for a moment.  “It must be difficult, then, with beings who are not collectives.”

“There have been challenges,” Cenz agreed.  “We are fortunate that the Bicet are such a wise people.  They are individuals but understand that all sapients are collectives in their own way.  Your people form chains, too.”

“Yes,” Jophiel said softly.

Silence fell between them for a time.

Until it was broken by Jophiel’s outburst.  “How can they kill each other, Cenz?”

The communicator screeched; it was almost overwhelmed by the power of Jophiel’s words, and around him the techs and scientists looked up, alerted.

“Something’s changed,” one tech called.  “The flux is going unstable . . .”

“Bring down the dampeners, get it in line,” the chief officer called.  “We can’t let it-“

“Let it be,” Cenz ordered out loud to them.  “Until it reaches dangerous levels, allow it to play out.”

They all looked at him.  The chief officer looked unhappy, but nodded.

---

< Ep 11 part 29 | Ep 11 Part 30 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Finally, Apollonia thought, as she rounded the curve of the hall towards her cabin.

She was going to sleep for days.  She absolutely was going to call in sick tomorrow, and not Kiseleva or even the Captain would be able to overrule her!

But there was a group of people waiting for her.

She recognized Y first, towering above the others.  This body was similarly costumed, wearing large fake eyebrows and moustache, round glasses, and a cigar attached where a mouth would be.

Brooks was there, as well as Jaya.  Finally, seeming perfectly cheerful despite being the only non-ranking officer, was Ann from Watchito’s.  Apollonia had forgotten that she’d even invited the woman the other day.

“Well look who finally decided to show up,” Y said, his voice startlingly different from its norm.

“Huh?” she asked.

“We are pleased you could make it,” Y said, now in his normal voice.

Brooks smiled.  “Urle sends his regards – he has to be on duty now and his girls have to be in bed.  Otherwise he’d have liked to see Shark Hole 7.”

Apollonia felt her exhaustion fading.  “You guys are all still here to watch the movie?”

“Of course,” Jaya said.  “We said we would come, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, but it was going to start hours ago . . .”

“We were happy to wait until later.  Are you still wishing to host it?  I’d understand if you were tired,” Brooks said.

“No, no, this is great!  But, um . . .”  She had been going to get extra chairs and snacks on her way back from the parade, but now . . .  “I don’t have anything to eat.  Or even enough places to sit.”

“You need not worry about that,” Jaya said.

Apollonia felt her tablet ding, and looked.

“Delivery of five chairs and snacks for ten.  Regards, Zeela Cann.

P.S. – I hear Shark Hole 7 is one of the best in the series.  Sorry I can’t make it!”

“Damn,” Apollonia said, fighting down the sting of tears for the second time in the last few minutes.  “I can’t believe this came together.”

“Well, let’s go watch,” Brooks said.

Apollonia opened the door, grinning at the sight of the theater-style seats arrayed around the main screen wall.  There were packages of a dozen kinds of chips and cookies, even chilled containers of ice cream.

“She went all out . . .”

Jaya brushed past her, sitting in the largest, plushest chair.  “I call dibs,” she said.

“I think that’s the Captain’s chair,” Ann said.

“Or the hostess,” Y noted.

“It is too late, for I have called dibs,” Jaya stated simply.

“I’ll cede the chair,” Apollonia said.

Brooks instead went over to the snacks and picked out a taiyaki, breaking it in half.  “A whole one is too rich, care to share it?” he said, offering the other half.  Apollonia took it.

“Ooh, spumoni!” Ann said, taking a container of ice cream.

Y took the end chair, folding up like a giant insect to fit.  “Let’s get this show on the road,” he said, using his funny accent again.  “Before I get any older.”

Apollonia took her own seat, between Jaya and Y.  She tapped on her tablet, and the room dimmed.  The wall began to glow, as the film started.

“In the beginning . . .” it began, the sound booming.  “There were only black holes . . .“

“That’s not right,” Jaya said.

“Debatable,” Y replied.  “Perhaps they mean the singularity that caused the Big Bang as a sort of black hole?”

“Yes, but there was only one,” Jaya said.

“Shh!” Apollonia said.  “It’s nonsense.  Just let it . . . flow over you.”

“And in the black holes . . . there were sharks.“

“Fine,” Jaya said.

“These sharks were the scourge of the known universe,” the movie continued.

“But if they were all there was, what were they terrorizing?” Brooks asked.

“Shh!  Watch!”  Apollonia said.

The introduction continued, and she leaned over to Y.  “How old are you, anyway?” she whispered.

“Me?” Y said.  “That’s a good question.”  He leaned in closer, his voice turning nearly imperceptible.  “In human years I am twenty years old.”

“What, really?” Apollonia said loudly in shock.

“Absolutely” Y replied.

Jaya and Brooks were staring at her.  “Shh!” they said in unison.

“That’s my line,” she muttered.

Ann was still watching the screen.

“I’m just enjoying the movie,” she said with a sigh.

“Oh, what a nice time this is,” Y said happily.

---

< Ep 11 part 28 | Ep 11 Part 30 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

The lift ride back towards her apartment felt longer than normal, as it stopped to pick up weary partiers in their crazy outfits.  Most were still happy, but in a tired sort of way that made them keep to themselves.

Apollonia rode past her stop, going back down.  She was strangely enjoying the ride.  Or at least, it was better than being back at her quiet apartment.

She keenly missed Angel’s presence.  The little dog had become a comforting companion just by her mere presence.

What a gift for them all the dog was, she thought.

The doors opened, and the lift emptied, but only one man entered.

Oh, shit, she realized.  It was Dav Gannin.

The man was another expatriate of New Vitriol.  He had, she had heard, approached Dr. Arn Logus, wanting to escape the place.

His son had died on New Vitriol; a common fate for the young there, given the high levels of radiation, bad air, and lack of necessities.  She’d only avoided it by having moved there after she was nearly grown.

But she had limited ability to feel sympathy for him.  The man hated her.

While part of it might be due to the fact that she was alive when her son wasn’t, the open reason was the same one that everyone else there had hated her; she was, in their eyes, a witch.

It was just another term for Seer or CR or whatever else someone wanted to say.  He’d yelled it into her face in Logus’s office when she’d gone by some time back.

The man was avoiding her eyes, looking down and away.  She awaited the explosion.

Unlike people in the SU, she knew very well that people from Vitriol were capable of startling violence.

She wished she wasn’t in this stupid flower costume anymore.  Not that she would have blended more in normal clothes, but the brightness and happiness of it seemed almost mocking.

Gannin was just in normal clothes himself.  He still wore his faded brown jacket from Vitriol over his newer Union outfit.

Finally, his eyes rose, met hers.  She braced herself.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

She froze, waiting for the follow-up burst of violence.  But nothing came.

The silence lingered, and the man looked down and away again, almost chastened.

“What?” she asked.  Even to her ears her voice sounded dumbfounded.

“I’m sorry,” the man repeated.  There was no annoyance in it, nothing but sadness.

He looked up.  “I called you a witch.  I always hated you.  Back there . . . on Hellrock.”

She blinked.  “I call it Hellrock.”

“Yeah,” he said.  “I know.  Most of us started calling it that after we heard.  Name fits.”

“Thanks,” she said suddenly.  When he looked startled, she added; “For the apology.  I . . . uh . . .  I appreciate it.”

“You never did anything to deserve it,” Dav said, shrugging.  “I just hated you because you were an outcast.  Touched by the Dark, we all said.”

“Yeah,” she replied.  She knew the stories.

“And maybe you’re different, but you never did anything bad.  At least nothing nearly as bad as the rest of us.”

She didn’t know about that; her mind went back to a dozen, a hundred times she’d exacted her own petty revenge or stole or otherwise hurt someone else.  But she did not say it.

“Dr. Logus was always trying to tell me that,” Dav continued.  “I blamed you a lot.  For my son’s death.  Along with the Governor and security and, fuck – everyone.  You were just the last remaining reminder of all that, so you became the target.”

Apollonia felt a trickle of sweat go down the back of her neck.  Had he planned to attack her?

“Logus stopped me,” Gannin said.  “He kept telling me that you were just another victim.  I didn’t listen to him then.  But, you know, when the ship went and fought the Hev . . .”

“Logus almost died,” she said.  “Because he went to help me.”

“You were out there being a Responder,” Dav said quickly.  “I was just cowering in a bunker.  Not even trying.  But I saw Logus go out – he wasn’t even afraid.  At least he didn’t show it.  He went out and risked his life.  Nearly lost it . . . just to help you.”

Apollonia still felt guilt over that.  If anything, this seemed more reason for the man to hate her, but . . .

“And after that I realized he meant everything he said,” Dav continued.  “He did want to help me.  He . . . risked everything to help people.  And not just me, but even you.  Someone I thought ought to have been spaced years ago.”

He shook his head.  “I’m ashamed of who I was.  So I’m sorry.  It’s not your fault – none of it was.  I was a terrible person.  I can’t change that, but I can try to be a better one.  I . . . It’s the only point in going on, at this point, isn’t it?”

Apollonia felt a burning behind her eyes.  She nodded to the man emphatically.  “Yeah,” she said.  “I know what you mean.”

---

< Ep 11 part 27 | Ep 11 Part 29 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Apollonia felt exhausted.  Her feet hurt as she left Resources, hating the dim lighting down here.  Several times she thought she heard Boku-boku lingering just out of sight, but when she checked her tablet it said there were none nearby.

“Is anyone out there, Angel?” she asked the little dog.  But the dog in the bee costume only got excited when she heard her name, wagging her tail so hard her entire rear end shook.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you napping when I was working,” she said to the dog.  “So now’s your chance to work and tell me if I’m alone!”

Angel just started panting in excitement, dancing around her legs.

Well, she decided, it didn’t seem like anyone in the Sapient Union to stalk her, even those weird little shits, so it was probably just her tired nerves.

Her poor mood put her in a klepto mindset; back on New Vitriol one stole whenever they could get away with it.  Sure, if you got caught you might get a kicking or a night in lock-up, but you always needed stuff, and even if you didn’t need the thing you took, you could probably barter it for something you did.

But what was the point on the Craton?  No one lacked for anything.  The whole goddamn Union was like that, as far as she knew, except maybe on the fringe colonies.

Finally finding her way back to the lift, she was surprised to see Kiseleva as the doors opened.

The woman gave her a curt nod, and Apollonia felt even slouchier as she moved to stand next to her in the small lift.

“How was your training?” the woman asked.

“Boring,” Apollonia replied.  She noticed that Angel had sat down to her side, watching her.

She had missed the parade, done a piss-poor job, pissed off her co-workers, and it had all been stuff better suited to drones.

“Was this just about seeing how I dealt with boring shit?” she asked.

Kiseleva glanced over to her.  “That was a factor.  Being an officer in the Voidfleet means doing the tasks that need to be done.  Even if they are dull.”

“It sure was dull,” Apollonia said.

Kiseleva turned more to look at her.  “Thousands of years ago, humans sailed the oceans of Earth in wooden vessels.  They often relied upon the wind – you know what wind is, yes?”

“Of course I do,” Apollonia said back, a little snappishly.

“Sometimes the wind would die down,” Kiseleva continued.  “And the boat would be dead in the water – unable to move.  Do you know what they did then?”

“What?” Apollonia asked.

“They waited,” Kiseleva said.  “They called them the doldrums.”

“Are you saying we are in the doldrums now?  Because really it did not seem dull at the giant and awesome party you pulled me out of.”

“You do not want to hear it now,” Kiseleva said.  “But it was for your own good.”

Apollonia glared at her.  For the first time since Gohhi she thought about peering into a mind; she could do it, she imagined.  If she focused enough.

Look into Kiseleva’s mind; find something that would freak her out, get her to fuck off and stop saying this stupid, banal stuff.

But even as she had the thought she mentally recoiled.

No.  The last time she had done that she’d touched a serial killer’s mind.

It had left marks in her.

Sometimes, she woke up in the night, and thought she might have been dreaming his dreams.

Angel barked, once, sharply, snapping her out of her depths.

“Are you all right?” Kiseleva asked, her expression serious.

The mood in the elevator had turned.  Not just from her mood, Apollonia realized.  Her . . . presence, or whatever it was, seemed to palpably ooze from the walls.

Looking up, the lights in the elevator themselves seemed dimmer.  The whole space smaller, more claustrophobic.  Kiseleva would be getting the brunt of it.

“Yeah, I’m all right,” Apollonia said, suddenly feeling much more sober than before.  She looked down at Angel, but the dog seemed cowed, nervous.

Whining about missing the parade suddenly seemed a very small thing.

The doors to the lift opened.

“Let’s go,” she said to Kiseleva.  She still felt glum, but at least she wasn’t being petulant anymore.

Kiseleva seemed thrown off; Apollonia could see her struggling on some level to comprehend the change that had just occurred.  But to her credit she was continuing on.

“Follow me,” the woman said.  “I know you are tired, but there is something else I wish to show you.  I think you will appreciate it.”

They were back on the ship proper – in the science area again.  It was bright enough in here that the dinginess she seemed to have created receded slightly.

Apollonia hoped that Kiseleva meant she might actually get to see the astronavigation stuff, and she followed the woman with a cautious optimism.

But maybe she had ruined that chance with her change.

Kiseleva was watching her.  It was subtle; it was only the woman’s eyes glancing slightly her way.  But she was, and her expression while doing it was . . . odd.  It wasn’t fear, or hate, but it was something.

“Something bothering you, Sergeant?” Apollonia asked.

Her words came out more challengingly than she intended, and Kiseleva looked at her with a frown.  “I must admit something; I did not know you were as young as you are, and it bothers me that I did not see it.  It seems obvious, looking at you now, that you are young.”

“People often get surprised,” Apollonia said.  “Even when I was kid people often seemed to think I wasn’t.  Maybe I just have a serious face or they couldn’t look past how I made them feel.”

“Perhaps I expected too much from you in prior training,” Kiseleva admitted.  “And have judged you too harshly.  You have gone through a lot for someone your age.”

Apollonia knew she had, but it felt weird to just agree.  She said nothing to that, but nodded a little, partly in thanks but mostly just for acknowledgement.

Kiseleva was just looking forward again as they moved, but there still seemed something antsy about her.

“Was there something else on your mind?” Apollonia prompted.

Kiseleva glanced away.  “It is nothing,” she said.

“Does that nothing have to do with that mission?” Apollonia pressed.

Kiseleva stopped and turned to face her fully.

“Yes,” she admitted.  “It does.”

“What, then?”

Kiseleva shook her head.  “It is not appropriate for me to say these things.”

“Well that just makes it sound bad,” Apollonia said.  “Up until two minutes ago you were ready to chew me out for being whiny.  But now . . .”  She tilted her head.  “I freaked you out, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Kiseleva told her bluntly.  “Two minutes ago you were a petulant child.  Then, in a moment, you changed.  It’s like you’re . . .” she snorted and looked away.

Apollonia leaned slightly into her field of view, raising her eyebrows in question.

“It’s like you’re suddenly the ranking officer and I feel out of line,” Kiseleva said, sounding confused.

“Well, why don’t you just go ahead and say what you were thinking?  I don’t mind,” Apollonia replied, feeling oddly calm now.  Kiseleva normally intimidated her, but at the moment, after her more sobering realization, fear of the woman seemed almost silly.  Not that Kiseleva wasn’t obviously a dangerous woman in the right circumstances, but this was not that kind of situation.

“I was thinking,” Kiseleva said slowly.  “That I wish I could have resisted that effect that froze us all – the way you did.”

“You don’t know the baggage that comes with it,” Apollonia replied, a dry laugh coming out.  “It’s a sacrifice,” she added.

Kiseleva was silent a moment longer, then nodded.  She turned to face forward again.

“I understand,” she replied.

“It’s the only thing I’m good for, really,” Apollonia said.  It wasn’t even self-pity talking.  She just knew it was true; she had no skills or talents, she was not good at . . . anything.  Not even at an amateur level.

Kiseleva shrugged.  “I wonder, Apollonia Nor, if you truly want to do anything, or if you just wish to justify your existence?”

“What?” Apollonia asked, eyes widening as she was caught off-guard.

“It seems to me that you balk at many tasks.  But you wish to be more than just passively useful.  You undoubtedly are; your simple existence is justification enough, from a value standpoint, if that is how you wish to reckon your worth.  It is not how the Union views life, but I cannot stop you from making your own judgments.”

Apollonia looked down and away from the woman, her mind roiling again.

“Your childhood, as abrupt and terrible as it was, did not prepare you for being a member of society,” Kiseleva continued.  “And so it leaves you now feeling like a parasite.”

“I’m not a parasite!” Apollonia snapped.

“No,” Kiseleva replied.  “You are not.  But I fear it is how you view yourself.”

She turned, beckoning Apollonia.  “Come.”

They walked again, coming to a set of white double doors with a massive insignia and words on it that read;

Astronavigation

Charting the Stars

Apollonia felt a slight tingle down her spine as Kiseleva opened the doors.

Angel ran in, wildly sniffing, with Apollonia and Kiseleva following at a more sedate pace.

The room was huge; extending up through five normal decks, with a huge hologram in the middle.  In the center was the Craton, and out beyond it, at distances she knew to be – literally – astronomical, were stars.

One point of light was in front of her, and she reached up, waving her hand through it.  Her fingers tingled as she touched it and she laughed.

“I never thought I’d touch a star,” she said.

Kiseleva walked to the middle.

“This is our current sector of space, twenty-five light years out in all directions.  In that area are over a thousand major objects – stars and brown dwarfs.  Anything that holds its own noticeable system.”

Apollonia stared at how many there were.  “These are their actual relative positions?”

“Yes,” Kiseleva said.  She took a long, slow breath.  “It is a tiny piece of our galaxy, yet overwhelming in its scale already.”

“It sure is,” Apollonia said.  “So . . . how do we reckon our position?”

“There are many ways,” Kiseleva said.  “And I will show you, if you wish.”

The door to the room opened again, and Apollonia stepped back guiltily, as if touching a holographic star was akin to stealing.

In the doorway, looking as surprised as Apollonia felt, was Urle’s eldest daughter, Hannah.

She was a cute kid, Apollonia thought.  She had large eyes and a very serious expression, belied slightly by her costume of a lion with a huge mane.  If she’d had makeup or a mask, she’d removed them, and her eyes widened as she saw them.

“Oh, sorry,” she said.  “I didn’t know I was interrupting.”

“It is fine,” Kiseleva said.  “You may come in.”

“Uh, yeah.  Welcome,” Apollonia said.

Hannah watched her curiously, only peeling her eyes off to look to Kiseleva as she came up to her.

“I just wanted to do some practice,” she said.  Angel ran up to her, and she petted the dog fondly.  “Oh, hi Angel!”

“That is fine,” Kiseleva said.  She looked up at the stars, considering a moment, then looked back to Hannah.  “Show me how to find Earth.”

Hannah looked up from the dog, her face scrunched up as she studied the stars.  “It’s pretty hard without a clue . . .”

“There are three F-type stars on this map,” Kiseleva told her.  “One of them lies between us and Earth.”

With a nod, Hannah stepped forward into the middle of the room, looking up.  She reached a hand up, moving it in a certain way, and the whole collection of stars moved.

“Whoa,” Apollonia said, stepping back out of the way.  “I didn’t even know we could do that.”

“I’m just trying to find the F-type stars,” Hannah said.  “Once I find those I can start trying to figure out which way Earth is!”

Kiseleva came over to stand next to Apollonia.

“How can she find the F-type stars?” Apollonia asked quietly.

“None are labeled, but she can analyze their spectra.  But before she can do that she must sort the visible stars by brightness.  F-type stars are a larger type of star, though not the largest.”

“You use the shift of the light to determine their distance, right?” Apollonia said, a long-ago memory of learning awakening in her head.

“Yes,” Kiseleva said, seeming pleased.  “Through accounting for that shift, you can determine their distance and therefore their absolute luminosity.  Once you have that you can determine their mass.”

“Handy that she has an app for that,” Apollonia noted.

“She wrote her own,” Kiseleva said, smiling a sly smile.

“Wow,” Apollonia said, her eyes widening.

“There!  That’s Phi Ceti!” Hannah said excitedly, pointing.  “I recognize it because it’s a variable F7 star!  Sol is 50 light years that way!”

Kiseleva applauded lightly, and Apollonia joined her.

“That was really impressive!” Apollonia said, coming up to the kid and clapping her on the shoulder.

Hannah beamed at her.  “Thanks!  I’ve been working hard on it!  Candy?”  She held up a bag that said SQIPZ on it.

Apollonia had never had those.

“Sure,” she said, taking one.  It just looked like a colorful little sphere.  When she popped it into her mouth it created a burst of flavor.  “Wow, that’s good.”

“Yeah!  Elliot gave them to me,” Hannah said.  “They’re really good!”

“It is getting rather late,” Kiseleva said.  “Perhaps you should go home now, Hannah.”

“Yeah,” she said reluctantly, glancing up at Apollonia.  “It was nice seeing you again, Ms. Nor.”

“You don’t have to be so formal,” Apollonia said quickly.

“Take Angel with you,” Kiseleva told the girl.  She glanced at Apollonia.  “If you are okay with that.  The dog should return to her home bed.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Apollonia said, reaching down to pet the little dog one more time.  “I’ll see you around, little bee.  You did good, thanks for sticking up for me with Phadom.”

“Phadom in Resources?” Hannah asked as she squatted down to pick up Angel, who seemed perfectly happy to be carried.  “I go to class with his son.  He’s also Phadom, but he’s Phadom Po.  It’s like ‘junior’ in Bokese.”

“Oh,” Apollonia said, surprised.  What did a little Boku-boku look like?  It might be adorable.

“Well, bye Teach, bye Apple!”

Still holding Angel, she ran off, and Apollonia sighed.  Her nickname was catching on, and part of her missed Angel already.

“Why did she call you teacher?” she asked Kiseleva.

“I am the teacher of the Astronav Pioneers Club,” Kiseleva said.

“Wow, isn’t that a lot on your plate with being in Response, too?”

“It is my hobby,” Kiseleva told her.  “I do it simply because I enjoy it – though I am a rated Astronavigator.”

“Wow,” Apollonia said.  “I have no idea what that means.”  She sighed, her amusement falling away.

Kiseleva studied her in silence for a moment.  “You find this exciting, and for that I am glad.  But you must look beyond simple childish excitement.  Even at her age, Hannah is considering becoming an astronavigator.  Is that what you want, Apollonia?  Because if it is, it can be so.”

“I don’t know,” Apollonia said.  “You’re right, it’s cool.  And maybe I could do that, I don’t know.  But, damn, that kid can do that and I barely know anything.  I feel humbled.  I’ve just never thought about what I wanted to be, for real.  Everything I’ve ever thought of was a fantasy.  An escape, not a future.”

Kiseleva reached up and put her hand on Apollonia’s shoulder, the warmth of it comforting.

“I think,” she said, “that you need to let go of your fear of being viewed as a dead weight.  Once you do that, you can figure out what it is that you truly love, and what you want to do with your life.”

---

< Ep 11 part 25 | Ep 11 Part 27 >