The turquoise queen, p.4
The Turquoise Queen, page 4
part #1 of Coalition Series
"It was high summer," the old man began, "with a clear sky, like today. The sky's always clear over the Mirror. I'd stayed outside an hour too long. I began to feel the sun burning my hide. So I rushed back to the tower hatch and slammed it behind me, to keep out all that heat that was trying to get me."
Dazr chuckled at that, but there was no humor in it.
"The hatch made a clank when it closed. Too loud a clank, but I thought nothing of it. I waved my hand at the plumes of steam coming off my back and felt relieved that I'd gotten in fast enough.
"I shouted my colleagues' names, and no one answered. The control tower was empty. That's when I began to worry. They must still be outside, and it wasn't getting any colder. Still I thought 'all right, no problem. They'll make it in time, they're professionals.' Then I heard a bang at the door, and another, and another, faster and faster.
"I rushed to let them in, but the hatch was jammed. There was this little chunk of metal laying on the floor, caked in rust. A piece of the lock mechanism that should've been replaced years earlier. It had broken off when I went in.
"Outside, they banged and clawed at the hatch, while I tried to pry the damned thing open with a crowbar. It didn't budge. Then my crewmates' screams began to change, like I knew they would. It must have taken a few minutes at most. They went from people screaming to animal roars. I heard claws scratching at the metal. They weren't trying to open the hatch anymore, they were trying to get at me."
Uljer knew what that meant. As the two cooked inside their own hides, primal instinct had kicked in, overriding rational thought. They had gone feral, as Galxij often did when seriously injured.
"I dropped the crowbar," Dazr said, "collapsed on the floor. If I managed to let them in now, they'd tear me to shreds and eat my flesh. I covered my ears, but the sounds from outside crept in anyway, and I couldn't bring myself to run away. The clawing and gnawing, the bones cracking, the chewing. Soon there was only one set of animal sounds. A little after that, it got silent again."
The old man curled his tail even tighter, as if the gesture could shield him from the memories, and stayed that way for a while. He sounded a little calmer when he continued.
"Fixing the hatch took a lot of work, with the tools I had at hand. Then I took care of the bodies, what was left of them."
Urvasatij had very little in the way of funeral rites. Just dump the body in the desert, let weather and carrion creatures do the rest. That's what Uljer imagined his mentor doing with the remains of his comrades.
"After that I sent a transmission to the company headquarters, to report what'd happened, and ask for rescue. I wanted to be home, to be as far as possible from all that carnage. They told me it would take over thirty days for someone to come pick me up. Over thirty days. It gave me a lot of time to meditate.
"All that death because of a broken latch. Something so small, so tiny. That was my first lesson. This is a ruthless world. Nothing like the cozy planets the Sencris and other species evolved in. Even the habitable zone is arid. Life was stubborn to develop here, and, given the slightest chance, this place will gladly snuff it out.
"I learned another lesson on the voyage home, when the bosses sat me down to get debriefed. An unfortunate accident, they called it. Could happen to anyone. Not at all avoidable with a simple maintenance check."
He took a swipe at the air with his claws. At the broken drone, the rusted latch, his company masters, at the world itself.
"I got to know my own kind a lot better in those days. Negligent, corrupt, selfish. Defeated. Any Galxij who knew better, who wanted a better life, migrated to Arjosat generations ago. Left behind, only the worst the species has to offer. People like me."
The old man got up. Without another word, he began to scrub the solar panels clean. It was all done long before sunset. They had no idea on how to keep them clean for the next crew. They didn't try. Send a new robot, that better be how headquarters fixed it, both of them agreed.
The drive back to the mining rig was brief and deathly silent. Dazr had said all he had to say. Tomorrow, late afternoon, it would be the accident site's turn to be inspected. Neither Galxij was looking forward to that.
The day went quietly by. There were plans and preparations to be made. If the elevator and ladders were broken, there was climbing gear in the truck, put there for this exact eventuality. Uljer thoroughly checked the high tension ropes, pulleys and anchors for defects or wear and tear. Recent events, plus the knowledge of long past ones, had made him extra cautious. Dazr didn't help, or do anything else. He looked older than ever.
The elevator and stairs were, indeed, broken. Mangled. It would take a lot more than what was in the truck's cargo compartment to fix them, and a lot more than that to get the whole rig working again. Their role reduced from repairs to mere damage assessment, the two prepared to rappel down the Mirror's edge.
The climbing gear's mechanical anchors spun noisily, burying themselves deep into the dry, compacted soil. Each Galxij gave his rope a vigorous pull, testing its strength. Not even close to budging. Good to go. At sunset, they started down the cliff, clothed in insulating gear but barefoot, their thick, sharp toe-claws stabbing the rock wall with every small jump. Inching closer and closer to the image of themselves.
They had scheduled this expedition with great rigor, allotting ample time for the climb at the end. After last night, what little motivation there had been for unnecessary risks was gone. Beside them, clinging precariously to the rock face, the twisted wreckage of the elevator scaffolding.
After a while, their feet touched the smooth reflecting surface. Solid now, though it still felt hot on their soles. Their footprints tarnished it but, at noon, the peculiar mix of metallic deposits would melt, wiping them away, making itself pristine again.
Uljer stared at himself staring back at him. Into the slits of his own dark blue eyes. The sky above and beneath. He tilted his head up at the seamless horizon, the sun and its twin. Almost dark now.
A thin, black line scarred the otherwise uninterrupted landscape. The drill's broken off main shaft. Other, smaller debris littered the area. After a few sunrises, it had all been partially swallowed by the oozing glass look-alike. A few sunrises more and it would all be gone, buried beneath the Mirror. The same was true of the bodies. Gone to live in that clone world.
It didn't take long to find the three of them. The one closest to the cliff had bite marks and torn off limbs. Partially eaten. Blood, the color of aquamarine, marbled the Mirror's surface under the corpse. Another was desiccated but intact. The third had severe burn marks all over his body. The investigation's first conclusion was that two of them had had time to go feral, while the third had died instantly. All else became clear soon enough.
Dazr studied the marks left by the explosion. He wouldn't be able to read the direction the shrapnel flew in, charring patterns or other such signs. That would take specialized knowledge he did not have. But he didn't need any of that, all it took was the blast's size. There was only one option, he explained, it was too big to have been caused by anything else. The drill had hit an underground pocket of gas. A simple seismic scan of the area would have revealed the pocket's existence, prevented the disaster. A stupid mistake, easy to avoid, just like he'd thought. Just one thing left unexplained:
"Why were all three of them down here in the first place?" Maybe the drill had jammed before blowing up. Then a man had been sent down to investigate. But why all three? He narrated several versions of the events, as he attempted to reconstruct them in his head. Something was missing.
With time to spare, the two kept scouring the area for clues. Starlight more than sufficed for their keen predator eyes. Near the wrecked elevator, by the cliff, a few dislodged boulders floated in the ocean of glass. Looking closer, Uljer noticed two lines, thin and winding, almost submerged. Two stretches of rope. He picked one up, followed it to its severed end. The narrative started to fit together. He repeated the process with the other. Again, severed.
"I think I know what happened." The young Galxij concluded with a hint of triumph. "Late at night, the drill jammed. One of the workers, the one with the burns, was sent down to investigate."
"They didn't shut down the drill for that, for some reason," the old man cut in, exasperated.
"Yeah. While he was here, the drill hit the gas pocket," Uljer continued. "There was an explosion, he was knocked unconscious, burned. The explosion damaged the elevator and the stairs, so the other two had to rappel down to help him. They were in a hurry, had to get to him before sunrise. So they attached their ropes near the elevator."
This was getting a bit too familiar. With a grimace, Dazr completed his colleague's line of thought.
"After they got here, there was a secondary explosion. One of the elevator's support beams came loose, knocked some rocks down." He sighed. "And managed to sever both ropes on its way. High summer, the sun must've already been up by then, so..."
Uljer pictured the rest of the grizzly scene. The three Galxij, one seriously wounded, the sun already up, the heat growing unbearable. One of the rescuers must've attempted to climb back up without a rope, slipped, and fallen to his death. As noon approached, the other two had gone feral and started eating their comrade, before dying from exposure themselves.
Almost morning now. His mission complete, Uljer began the climb back to safety. Took him a while to notice Dazr wasn't following. He just stood over the wreckage, looking lost, for what seemed an eternity, as precious night time slipped away. Then he started walking in the wrong direction. His first steps were hesitant. Then confident, faster. The young man shouted his name. No reply.
"What are you doing!"
With a calm, resigned voice, Dazr spoke without turning around.
"Getting out. Hope you find a better way to do it."
In moments, he'd cleared the debris field, going further and further from the cliff, into the Mirror's unblemished face. Uljer started heading back down to rescue him. The old man must've gone insane, that had to be it. Traumatized after seeing one too many dead bodies. He was soon interrupted.
"Quit it boy! Or you'll die too. Climb back up, drive back to the habitable zone. Find your own way out! Me, I've found mine." He had turned around, his eyes fixed on Uljer's. Tired eyes. After an excruciating pause, he turned away, started walking again, determined. "I'm trying to teach you a lesson here, so pay attention."
Without another word, the old man walked on into the sunrise. Uljer shouted his name again. One last, hesitant shout. No time left. Resigned, the young Galxij finished scaling the cliff, started towards the safety of the truck. Then he stopped and turned back. He could stand the heat a bit longer. He stared into the gleaming Mirror, at the lonely figure down there, silhouetted against the fire colors of dawn. Still walking.
Dazr stopped, standing atop infinity. Gusts of vapor enveloped his body, sipping out from under the insulating clothes. He stared into the unbroken, mirage-like horizon. The heat rose, steady. A final glance at Urvasat's cruel beauty, as conscience slipped away.
In the distance, Uljer heard a beastly roar, its echo fading away in the vast, barren expanse. The temperature grew painful. Time to go. Without looking back, he got in the truck and prepared for the long, lone drive home.
The following days blended together, across the canyons, and the sea of bone white dunes. Then, the first signs of life. Here and there, emaciated, wind-bent shrubs with fat, silver leaves sprouted from cracks in the dry soil. Stubborn, defiant. As he drove on, they became more abundant, increased in diversity and size, until loners became crowds, though not quite abundant enough to be called a forest.
One day, through the vehicle's tiny windows, he saw a pack of small, thick-skinned animals peak their heads out from their underground burrows.
A couple more days brought him to the village nearest to the Mirror. An outpost at the edge of the habitable zone, with no more than a few thousand dwellers. Ramshackle houses, vendors selling goods by the road, not much else. A single Sencris shuttle crossed the sky, reminding those beneath of what millennium they lived in. This was a dirty place, lost in time. Or just lost, Uljer thought to himself. That was what this whole planet was.
He left the village behind, without stopping. Back to corporate headquarters, to report what had happened. There'd be questions, no doubt. He didn't care. He'd done nothing wrong. He drove on, towards the nearest proper city. One with a spaceport.
This world didn't want him. Twenty days later, he'd done all the necessary debriefing, handled all legal considerations. Galxij resolved things quickly, even when mired in bureaucracy. A few days after that, Uljer, supplies and what little possessions he had safely stashed in a large bag, stowed away in a passenger and cargo transport ship. Headed to what had long been his kind's true home, to Arjosat.
From The Desert
Irshte Fercharst, the regent's head of security, was the first to disembark, as usual. Rifle in hand. The other guards quickly followed, securing a perimeter around the landing area. They were on edge. This was not friendly territory.
A moment later, Erchtria stepped out of the ship. She still wore jewelry, so as to look like an actual Raiac, but it was a lot more modest than usual. A few silver chains, a small precious stone here and there. Plain, polished chrome ocular masks. The decoration was more aggressive too. Strapped to her belt, an ornate energy pistol. Humble trappings, by her people's standards, the kind an average citizen would wear when traveling to a dangerous place. No way to alter her face or species, but she did all she could to look more ordinary.
No one was there to receive her. No ambassador to welcome her to Arjosat, native or otherwise. Like her previous visit to a Sencris colony, this voyage had been planned in advance, but never advertised.
A semi-transparent respirator mask covered her mandibles, further concealing her identity. Not because the atmosphere was toxic, but because it was thin and horribly dry. Not half as bad as in the Galxij homeworld, but still too thin and dry for a Raiac to breathe comfortably. At least the ambient temperature was right.
Once summoned, the transport pod arrived quickly at the landing pad. Like before, her security scrutinized it for traps and listening devices. Fercharst and two other guards boarded with her. They, too, had abandoned their elaborated armor in favor of civilian clothes and concealed plating.
At the last minute, Erchtria had set up a meeting with the local viceroy and the Galxij governor. Scheduled to take place the next day, it was to be her visit's official motive. She planned to beg for their support in persuading the Rageris to abandon his plans for war and conquest.
A futile effort, and she knew that perfectly well. Neither of these small players stood any chance of changing his mind. It would take a majority decision by the Sankhron Ree to do that. Besides, the pieces were in motion, had been for years now. Too late to turn back. As loyal subjects of the Empire and its ruler, neither of these men was of any real use to her. But she had to meet with them all the same, for appearances' sake. Tomorrow. Today was her day off. She'd make good use of it.
The small vehicle flew swiftly above narrow, crowded streets. It took all of the guidance computer's precision to keep it from colliding with all the others it shared the sky with. A busy capital this was, though not a particularly impressive one.
Architecture here showed no aesthetic concerns whatsoever. Gray, monolithic buildings climbed chaotically on top of one another, each facade more dilapidated than the next. None tall enough to be called a skyscraper, despite this being the Galxij's largest city.
Graffiti littered the walls, clumps of colorful, barely legible, stylized letters competing for space. A few showed impressive artistry, more so than the buildings they defaced. Most, however, were no more than crude, hasty scribbles. Many bore messages of hate and Urvasatij revolt against oppressors real and imagined. That put a smile on the regent's face.
It was a brief flight. Soon she was at her destination. A small door in a dark alley, guarded by two men who looked brutish even by Galxij standards. Trash cluttered the corners. The walls shed more skin at each glance. Nearby, grim-faced locals went about their business, keeping their distance from the heavily armed new arrivals, yet unfazed by them. There was the distinct impression that gun-toting individuals were not an uncommon sight in these parts. So unbecoming for a head of state, Erchtria thought to herself with a slight giggle. The three security officers held their rifles tight, ready to pounce at the slightest threat.
At the sight of the Raiac, the two bouncers stepped aside, one pushing open the heavy, fortified door. They were young, no more than ten years old. Their flak jackets showed a lot more wear and tear than their pearly white hides and dark, perfect teeth.
"Straight ahead. He's expecting you." A soft bass, minimal words. The stereotypical attitude of his species.
With a head nod, she complied, gesturing for her escorts to follow. The door opened into a corridor, as narrow as the streets outside, but much cleaner. Thanks to her kind's subterranean habits, her eyesight was as good as a native's, so she had no trouble navigating in that poorly lit environment. Irshte led the way, with the other two guards following behind. As soon as they'd passed, the door closed again.
Two flights of stairs the group descended, with no windows, no other path to follow. It was claustrophobic but, accustomed to winding underground tunnels as she was, Erchtria did not mind. Still, the decor could use much improvement, in her opinion, as there was currently none. Just plain, dirt-stained walls and pale light fixtures, a few broken.
It made her question her own plans, to see the place in such a state of disrepair. How well funded, how influential could this man be, if this was where he chose to host an important meeting?
The corridor ended in an ample room which far from assuaged her doubts. The ceiling was still low and dirty, combining with the mood lighting to lend the place a seedy atmosphere. In the corners, armored men brawled, talked, drank, roared.
