Journeys

“What…the…fuck…is that?”

Steven was the first to step from the van and utter those words. He cupped his hands over his lower antennae against the unfamiliar salty air, his green-plated legs faltering from two days riding in a van with eleven other Poleepkwan adults and children. But it was his eyes that I couldn’t fail to notice first, pale green and widening as though in a fruitless attempt to encompass the enormous expanse before us.

I followed him out and was struck silent. We looked beyond the docks, between the cranes to something immense beyond words. This world’s ocean was blue. That much I’d already known from two-dimensional images on my human computer. But it was no preparation for this. It was like an immense, flat, shifting blue puddle that met the lighter blue of the horizon in a perfect line.

 

 I scarcely remember what Dayna said; the quiet friend who had driven us across the desert for two days with occasional stops for rest. It was something about the cargo ship docked a short distance away, and checking in with the crew waiting for us. I didn’t realize that I was clinging to Nick’s hand until he chuckled.

I glanced up at him. “Have you...seen this before?”

He looked down to meet my eyes, his black mouth-tentacles curving in a grin. “Seen, been in, and drank quite a bit of it over my life. Nothing tastes like the ocean. Here,” I almost squealed as he picked me up and put me on his shoulders. “Take a better look. It’s huge!”

I laughed and wrapped my arms around his head. “Hey! You shouldn’t do that, you're still healing.” He leaned on one crutch but seemed all right to stand. I pointed to the horizon before us, and the strange vessel to my left. “It's amazing. We're going across that, in that?”

 

"Uh-huh. That's the plan" He set me back down. I felt a pang of regret, and realized I could have stayed up there for a long time. It felt like riding on Father’s shoulders, or like a throne. “The entire journey should take about a couple of weeks, so,” He chuckled, mandibles clicking rapidly. “Get comfortable.” 

“If we can be comfortable on cots in tunnels, we can be comfortable anywhere.” He swung easily on his crutches, following me towards a small walkway. I nearly touched the water but paused, glancing up at Nick. “Is it...safe?”

He stepped forward and crouched at the edge, immersing his painted arm. “Physically, yeah, but I don't recommend drinking it. Countries can dump some sick stuff into these waters. Here, just put your hand in.” He nodded. “It's refreshing.”

“Okay!” I relaxed face down on the rusted metal, my head over the edge, letting my arm slide all the way into the water. “It's...” I looked up at him with wide eyes. “Cold. And smooth. It feels like it's alive.” I glanced back to the others and called out to them. “It's all right! Come see this!” Two of the children stepped towards us, seeming to watch every motion of this unknown, beautiful, living sea.

Nick’s eyes seemed thoughtful, pondering the wide expanse before us. “It's so close, yet so far out of reach. So many secrets in its depths. It really is full of life.” He paused and glanced back to the van. “Shall we get everyone on board?”

“’So many secrets in its depths!’” I wiggled my mouth-tentacles at him. “Mr. Poet Lion. Dayna should be back soon, she said that she'll introduce us to the humans on the ship and then drive back across the desert.” I slowly pulled my arm out of the water and held it before me, green skin between my plates drying in an almost imperceptible breeze. “I wonder what the oceans on our homeworld feel like. I've heard they're even more beautiful.”

“Oceans with hues of red and purple. Majestic!” He climbed to his feet; eyes wide with distant curiosity. “The creatures living in it must have some serious toxin resistance to withstand the coral reef blooms. Or maybe the reef's chemicals aren't as potent. I don't know, but I damn well know that's something I want to see someday.”

You want to see it! The single thought seemed ecstatic. I love you, and you’re coming home. I think I grinned like an idiot as I rushed forward and wrapped my tiny arms around him.

He stood as though frozen for a moment, and then gave a deep laugh. “Was it something I said?”

“Sorry.” I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face. You’re coming home!

“You know I love ya, kiddo, but that smile's creeping me out a little.” His antennae twitched in confusion, eyes widened but bright with humor. “Let's get these guys settled in before these seafarers change their minds.”

I shook my head, fighting the urge to clench my jaw until it ached. Somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to just ask him. Eric wants to stay. Ryan is human. Akra is…so old, so ill. Nick, if you’re not sure, if you’re staying behind…I can’t hear that. I can’t… “Never mind.” We heard the footsteps of three humans and turned about.

Nick waved with one of his crutches and slowly made his way to Dayna. She stood with the other refugees, two suntanned humans beside her that stood so loosely they seemed half-asleep. “Hey! Everything's set up?”

A tanned human with tousled, sun-bleached hair grinned as he nodded at us. “Ahoy, there. That's you all?”

 “Almost.” I ducked back into the van. Akra slept, as he had through most of our two-day drive to the Cape Town docks. His skin still had a waxen, yellowish tinge, but at least his fever seemed to have abated for now. Nick and I both—a small, short Poleepkwa and one who walked with crutches—offered to take opposite ends of his stretcher to move him from our van to this huge vessel.  We must have looked silly, because two other refugees gently shouldered us out of the way and carried it between them. I’d learned their given names on the long, uneventful journey across the desert: Richard and Lisa. They lifted him easily and seemed to gravitate towards the back of the group, a dozen Poleepkwa standing bug-eyed and quiet before unknown humans in such a foreign place—a paved parking lot, in a harbor, before a sea none of us had seen and a craft upon it that was easily larger than any factory.

“Howzit? Cat got your tongues?” A grin deepened the creases around the human’s dark eyes as he gestured towards the ship. “I’m Kevin. And she's a bokkie, ain't she?”

I stepped forward, unconsciously widening my stance and positioning myself between my silent friends and the human strangers like a shield. Dayna seemed to trust them, and said as much before kneeling down for a quick hug and climbing back into the van.

“Yes, it’s beautiful.” I clicked formally. They seemed friendly enough, but around an unknown human I had no option other than the utmost caution and politeness. MNU’s “behavioral guidelines” had said as much, and so had Father himself. But he’d always stopped short of actually calling any of them Sir.

“Lekker! She's a freighter—one of the best ones floatin' out here from South Af. Now, if you'd just all follow me we'll be able to cast off.” He tossed his hair back and jabbed playfully at his companion, who seemed to be wincing and leaning against a walkway’s metal railing for support. “Oy! Cap’n Morgan!”

He blinked. “...ay?”

“Help these aliens to their quarters! We've gotta shove off, brah!”

“Just now?” He squinted, running a hand through his short red hair.

“Now now!” Taller, more verbose Kevin rolled his eyes before swinging onto the walkway and seeming to disappear into the great metal craft. “Get ‘em below deck!”

“Ja.” Capitan Morgan inclined his head to the salt-crusted metal walkway, boarding the ship with slow, deliberate steps. “Just follow me, please.” He moved awkwardly, wincing as though with a headache. “You might feel a bit queasy—that's normal. Just lean on the walls if you're dizzy, but if you gotta blow chunks let me know. I'd have to clean it up after...ugh. Damn babalaas...”

He led us across the deck and stepped down into a hallway-type enclosure, but I paused for a moment before following him. Grasping the true size of this ship seemed almost impossible. I’d heard enough about the dealers—those filthy slavers—to know their priorities. Trafficking in Poleepkwa means cramming as many living beings into as small a space as possible. It means being in a box with no food or water for indeterminate lengths of time; sores growing on your body from the heat and filth.

 

Traveling covertly by way of an international company is the opposite. The cargo ship was stacked with innumerable tons of freight, each in steel boxes long and wide enough to accommodate our paltry group of a dozen refugees. We were all but an afterthought.

I followed him to find a short passageway on the lower decks. He stumbled but politely showed us the seven doors, six of them leading to a grey-carpeted room with two beds—not cots or slabs of foam and blankets, but real mattresses made of springs lined up in something like a long cloth rectangle. I pulled at the thin cotton layers upon them as I helped the others ease Akra’s semi-conscious form onto a waiting bed; onto these soft white things. Nick called them “sheets.”

I couldn’t marvel at the comfort of these rooms for long; I felt another pressing need. I stepped out and faced Capitan Morgan again, speaking slowly and not meeting his eyes. “Thank you for everything, Capitan. But can I ask where our bathroom is?”

His freckled brow furrowed in confusion. “Your bathroom? That's it.” He opened the door behind him and glanced at the tiny toilet and sink. “It's lekker, right? I cleaned these things yesterday...”

Kevin’s footsteps echoed against the steel floor as he appeared behind his friend again, a deep laugh making his shoulders shake in his thin white shirt. “That dof isn't the ‘Cap’n.’”

The other shrugged and rubbed his eyes. “It's true.”

I glanced upward for a moment, but was careful not to stare at them. “Why do you call him that?”

“Because he's gesuip most of the time he's awake.” His friend winced again as Kevin playfully smacked the back of his head. “We love ya, buddy.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He shook his head and smiled down at me. “My name's actually Jordan. It's for the rum. ‘Captain Morgan.’ I practically run on it.”

Nick’s voice behind me was cautious. The other refugees seemed to have settled in. “Alcohol can make a man do some interesting things, my friend. I'd be careful around it if I were you.”

My breath nearly caught in my throat. He doesn’t even know these men. You’ll get yourself shot, Nick…

But Jordan only shrugged. “Eh, don't worry your head 'bout it. I'm a mellow drunk. I ain't gonna klap ya.” His nod and question seemed to be pointed at our entire group. “Everything lekker here?”

I fidgeted slightly, my four-toed feet scraping at the floor. “That...I mean, it's a human bathroom. Where should we go?” 

Jordan yawned. “Ja. That's your bathroom right there.”

“Better than those ones in D-10, ain't it?” Kevin’s stubble-lined face broke into a proud grin.

Nick laughed and thrust his arms in the air triumphantly. “That's a freaking godsend to me, man.”

Of course! They let us use holder things here. Even real toilets. I covered my embarrassment by smiling up at Kevin, widening my eyes in the way that Ryan and Dayna seemed to find charming. “Much better! Thank you.”

“We try.” Kevin knelt down and patted the top of my head, pushing my antennae down and grinning up at his friend. “Befok, bru. It—I mean she's—so cute.”

“Ja, man.” He hiccupped. “Fokkin' adorable.”

Don’t touch me! He rubbed my head as though tousling a human’s hair, and I tried not to wince. You’re not my friend, not Ryan.  “Lekker. Now, I'm goin’ up to yap with the cap. See y'all later.” He stood up again and strode off down the hallway.

I ducked into the bathroom, fighting the irrational urge to scrub my lower antennae clean as soon as I figured out how to use this luxurious metal sink with both working knobs. They didn’t mean any harm. But while the Elder would often smooth back my upper, longer antennae with a gentle hand, pushing down a Poleepkwa’s stiff lower antennae feels something like jamming a fist against a human’s nose.

The mirror was so spotless and intact that it hardly seemed real. I realized that I was glaring at it, and then nearly laughed at myself. I won’t be anyone’s pet, just for some nice kitty litter. And my people won’t be, either. I really should finally see what these bases are like. It was time to explore this luxurious ship, make sure the other refugees were provided for well enough, and tend to Nick and Akra as best I could.

***

The stars are a thousand times more beautiful above a placid sea. It reflects them like a shifting mirror, highlighting every subtle tinge of orange, red, and blue in their light that only seems white beneath layers of pollution and the incandescent glare of cities or searchlights. The tiny room I shared with the Elder had a single wide window, yet it seemed to be a portal to the stars. I felt as though I could reach out and touch them, and find my hand brushing a fleet of motherships—intact, whole, welcoming our little group back as though we had never left. Welcoming Akra, who seemed to cough and waste away with each passing day.

“We’re almost there, Elder. They say we’ll reach the docks by tomorrow morning, and then it’s another day’s ride to the Canada base.” My hand shook as I sat beside him on the bed and pressed a cool rag against the soft flesh of his neck. It seemed waxy, desiccated. “How are you feeling?”

This time, his eyes opened. “I am...weak.”

I grimaced. “I know. Is there anything I can do for you? We’re going to get you some help. They have doctors at the Canada base. Real doctors...”

“They… I do not think they are needed right now. I am more appreciative of your company at the moment, my child.” He coughed again, a weak smile illuminating his aged features.

I rested a hand on the side of his face, my voice nearly a whisper. “Thank you, Elder.” I drew a deep breath.  “It's been the strangest turn of events, us allied with the humans and hoping this new set will be the best for our people. I never thought I'd find myself here...or that I would ever find such a wise Elder calling me his child.”  My joints felt weak suddenly, I rested my head on his dark-plated shoulder. “Thank you for it, Akra. For letting me be...your child.”

 He stroked the back of my head gently, hugging me close. “The pleasure is all mine, Sherry. I could never have dreamed of meeting someone as unique and bold as you. You will become a great leader someday. And you will have the honor and pleasure of teaching your own children the ways of life and wisdom.” He smiled wistfully, touching the side of my face as his red-gold eyes met mine. “Sherry, my child. You cannot imagine the joy of bringing a new life into the world. It is fulfillment like no other...and I know you will make a wonderful parent.”

My voice broke. “You really think...Elder, it means more than anything to hear that.” I held him like a life raft in a storm, slipping away. “No, I can't imagine it. But someday I will! I'll have children that will swim in red, gold, and purple seas and live every day comforted and soothed by a wise overmind that I've never known. I'll have two children.” Tears blurred my vision. “And I'll name them Akra and Nikte. I'll tell them the stories you've told me. Someday...”

He only looked at me silently for a long minute, his eyes searching, then closed his eyes and nodded his head in a makeshift bow. “You show my child and I a great honor, Sherry Johnson. Your father... he will be so proud of you. There could be no better carrier of the beacon. I trust that you will keep it safe, and keep it calling out to the universe until…” He gave several rough coughs. “Until it is no longer needed.” He sighed, his eyes showing the depth of wisdom and the dwindling flame of age. “You are more my family than I had ever hoped for. My teachings, our technology...” Blood sprayed my face as he cleared his lungs, but I hardly noticed. “It is to you that I pass on my lineage, as my energy dissipates into the universe to fuel new life across the stars.”

My jaws clenched as I gripped his hands tight. “This isn't right! It's not right for you to go like this—you're supposed to meet my Father, Christopher! You're supposed to see the stars again!” I sobbed. “This should be happening home and safe, not here.” I gasped for breath. “This world has taken too many of us. I love you, Elder...and I will keep it safe. I'll remember everything you've taught me. But it...this shouldn’t happen!” I fell forward and wrapped my arms around his chest, holding him close.

“I had hoped to see your father's return. I had hoped to see everyone escape from this planet. Hoped...but I knew that I would not.” Tears ran down his face as he hugged me tightly to him. “I love you, Sherry, my child. Let the life of the world carry you to the stars. And do not mourn me, for I will be giving my gift of life to the whole of the universe... in everything I will live... and everything will live... in me...” He broke into a coughing fit and gripped the sides of the bed with dark, trembling hands.

I sobbed as his blood splattered onto my shoulder, yet in his words was a kind of comfort, a soft acknowledgement like the sunset yielding to the shining night sky. “You will!” I cried out, as though his convictions were a physical thing I could grab onto for my own. “In everything. And in my memory. In the stars, in all of it! Thank you, Akra…for it all. For all that you’ve been. My Elder, my parent.”

He coughed  harder,  falling back on the bed. With one shaking hand he reached up to touch my face weakly, eyes meeting my own for only an instant. He managed to gasp out only a few words between coughs. “Sherry...little one....” He grunted. “I love…” A last, hoarse cough. “You.” He closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh as the breath of life left him. The moment seemed so peaceful, as the violent spasms that were rocking his body stopped and he lay quietly on the bed, still now and forever.

To the stars, Elder. To the stars, to everything…be safe and free. I stared, motionless, as visions of the Andromeda Galaxy passed behind my eyes. Time I cannot measure passed in near silence, marked only by the words I whispered over and over like a constant chant. “I love you too, Elder. Live...please. Live among the universe.”

I’ve seen death many times. Yet I wept, staring at my Elder who had irrevocably become a thing, a lifeless collection of cold skin and shell-plate. Wherever his energy was released to…this was a thing that would never again share wisdom, never call me its child. Still it was a thing that we took with us when the cold dawn broke over our harbor and our long voyage ended. It was a thing that some gentle human doctor examined once we reached the Canada base. She told us that nothing could have been done; his liver was a broken mass of scars. His body was filled with heavy metal and a thousand other toxins from living over a quarter century in the slum of District 9.

It was a thing that we built a pyre for, and set it ablaze beneath the starry night sky as I clung to Nick for warmth and hope outside the base in the freezing Yukon. “We will carry on your work, I whispered to it. “Your memory. Your life.”