“Prepare for possible wormhole entry within the next two hours—the ship is approaching that blue star system we detected from lom-vaia.”
“Good,” Kansier said and terminated the signal. Regarding Faulkner’s puzzled expression, he explained. “The Discovery always jumps away from blue stars—the planetary systems are devoid of life.”
“Selesta knows it is too late to protect her any more,” Faulkner shook his head in disagreement, but his objection made no sense to them. “She hasn’t much longer. It always knew the moment would come.”
“What happened to him?” Knightwood whispered to Kansier. “He doesn’t sound like the Faulkner I knew,” she whispered sadly, but Faulkner heard her.
He’s raving. Knightwood thought.
“Knightwood, Knightwood—we fought for nothing.” Faulkner shrugged, blinking weakly. “You were right—the Orians wants Selesta—their leader came here to get it. Yes, I was wrong—Earth meant nothing to Orian—but he was the one who wanted Selesta to come here—he controls it all.” Faulkner squeezed his hands together, but at last Knightwood understood some of what he said. The others turned to her with questioning gazes.
Knightwood now remembered where she had gotten her recent hypothesis that two alien species, an Empire and a Federation, had discovered the Earth and raced to it—Faulkner had suggested it, and she had reproved his “galactic game”, his idea that two groups of explorers had come to the Earth to conquer it. But he had been wrong—and so had she.
She had dismissed her idea that the aliens wanted the Selesta as too simple an explanation, that instead they had followed it to eliminate their rivals before returning to claim another territory. But Faulkner’s suggestion that whatever force controlled the ship had brought it to the Earth, knowing the aliens would follow, and yet allowing new occupants to be subject to their aggression, filled her with trepidation.
“I’ll explain it all later,” she waved aside the questions. Was Zariqua Enassa the Charon aliens’ word for the ship itself—for the entity that controlled it which they called the computer? she wondered. Faulkner had indicated that the aliens wanted the ship—and the pilot had called the objective Zariqua Enassa. But Faulkner referred to the guiding force as “he” rather than “she”—the whole puzzle made no sense.
“Did you tell him the ship’s name—Selesta?” Knightwood swallowed as the thought suddenly occurred to her that Faulkner had referred to the ship by its Orian name.
“No—” Kansier hesitated, then nodded significantly, meeting Knightwood’s eyes.
“Well, in that case, after Faulkner’s examination, I think we’d better listen more carefully to what he has to say,” Knightwood suggested.
* * * * *
“Please understand, but I want to examine him myself—I knew him better than anyone,” Knightwood insisted.
“But why include Mathieson? You and I always work together,” Zhdanov protested, a bit annoyed. “There are some symptoms Cheung, Koslov and I would like to check for—” he stopped and sighed. Knightwood stared him down with a decisive glare.
“All right—have it your way.” Zhdanov conceded peacefully. “I’ll give you an hour—I guess I’ll see what luck the scout party has had in finding signs of animal life—and Cheung and Dr. Koslov won’t be finished extracting the vegetation samples...” he muttered, already heading back to the forest. Knightwood and Erin, accompanied by the Blue Stripes Sky Hawks from the scout party, led Faulkner to Knightwood’s laboratory. Twenty minutes later, Knightwood thanked the escort and let her assistant take Faulkner into the exam room.
“It’s good to see you again, Nathalie,” Erin said as her friends prepared to leave.
“Is it?” Nathalie asked, with an acerbic edge to her voice, then she relented. “Well, I’m sorry I haven’t been myself lately, but—I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”
“He’s got some kind of immunodeficiency disease, I think,” Knightwood declared after Erin had entered the lab and the door closed behind her. “He may require a prophylactic injection. Strange—the scanner reports abnormal blood cells—” Erin laid a hand on Knightwood’s forearm and shook her head.
“All of that won’t tell you anything, Knightwood,” Erin said. “When I saw him in the forest, Knightwood—I recognized myself in him, Knightwood. Part of me that was taken a long time ago—blood samples. Dr. Faulkner must have injected them into himself.”
“Old blood cells?” Knightwood laughed as though she thought that ridiculous. “Did Cameron take them?”
“No—it was the civilian doctor.” Erin shrugged.
“What do blood tests have to do with Faulkner’s condition?” Knightwood sounded incredulous but waited to hear an explanation.
“If it had been human blood—then you’re right. Injecting old, dead plasma might be ridiculous, but—” Erin swallowed. “You’re right about me, Knightwood. I’m not human.”
* * * * *
“Can you cycle the Professor’s blood?” Erin asked, watching the still form of Faulkner lying on an examination table.
“I can try.”
“Do you know how you’re going to extract the alien cells?” Erin asked.
“Yes, but I think we ought to bring in a medical doctor, maybe Koslov or that medical expert—Dr. Forren. I’ll get him later. He’s over in the hospital.”
“No,” Erin said and shook her head. “We have to keep this confidential, Knightwood, or how many others would try the same foolishness?”
Knightwood nodded, vaguely seeing her point, and began to set up the medical instruments, running a tube into a vein on Faulkner’s hand. However, before she could activate the machines, they turned on by themselves. Erin was standing near the middle of the room, away from the machines and Faulkner. Knightwood turned to make an inquiry, but Erin was already in deep concentration, her eyes closed, her arms free by her side, her head bowed.
Violet blood began to collect in the bag, bluer and thinner than ordinary blood. Knightwood watched, strangely fascinated, yet horrified at the same time. She suppressed her fears. A few moments later, the machines deactivated themselves, and Knightwood removed and cleaned the area on Faulkner’s hand that had been attached to the device.
“What did you do?” Knightwood threw over her shoulder, still disturbed by what she had seen.
“I understand now, doctor—why he’s here.” Erin folded her arms across her chest, then looked up at the doctor. “Just before he fell asleep his thoughts became clear. As I suspected, Faulkner tried to use my blood to become like me—he thought that it would induce a transmutation in him, giving him all of the abilities that he thought my people must have possessed. Telepathy, psychokinesis—he wasn’t sure how many others. But he knew about the perfect cell replication and cell preservation—qualities he believed would give him eternal life.”
“What transmutation? I don’t understand.” Knightwood looked over where Faulkner lay sleeping. “How could your blood give him mental abilities or did you say ‘eternal life’?” She asked in mute shock at what she had heard.
“He thought the cells would transform the ones in his body to manufacture ones like them—reproducing them like an invading virus—but apparently, they wouldn’t. He didn’t understand that the cells were semi-sentient. They were taken from me against my own will, and wanted only to return to my body. I don’t know, but, I think that unless I directed his transformation and willed them to remain in his circulatory system, guiding the process of transformation, it could not take place. At least, not for many years. It might have occurred had I not removed my cells just now—but only after a long, painful struggle—there wouldn’t have been much of Professor Faulkner left. He might have remembered himself once the metamorphosis was complete, but there’s no telling how the tortured process would have affected him—or what subsequently he would have done to weaker forms of life.
“That was why the ship lured him here and kept him from leaving. It could speak to him once he had injected my
cells into his system.”
“So that’s what he was talking about back there—the voice he heard, why he was trapped there—it all makes sense now.” Knightwood pondered, her eyebrows knitting together. “Except one thing—why didn’t you tell me before that you could hear the computer that guides the ship? What does it tell you?”
“I can’t hear it most of the time.” Erin looked towards the computer terminal in the medical room. “I don’t know how to reach it until I’m desperate—and then I can hear it automatically, but not in any Earth language. You know I can’t control my own telepathy yet, not completely. Besides, if it’s something important that concerns our safety—I’ve always told the crew about whatever I sensed.”
“Yes, I know. Just a minute—what did you do with the blood you took, Erin?” Knightwood asked suddenly.
“I injected it into my arm,” Erin answered, a half-smile twisting her face.
“Hard to believe. But if your blood is as you say, we can’t have anyone else risking such foolishness as to use it for something.” Knightwood turned back to Faulkner. “He should wake up in a few days—I think the long nightmare he was subjected to was too much,” she said compassionately. Even for Aidan Faulkner, once a respected scientist of the Earth’s Sydney Observatory. “I’ll give him a drip for fluids and sustenance, but I think he needs old-fashioned rest. Look at that—” she said, as the analyzer’s ten minute report flashed over the vid-screen behind him. “He’s registering normal brain activity and immune system function now!” she exclaimed in surprise, then turned around to face Erin.
Erin’s face had turned incredibly pale. Erin stumbled towards Knightwood without the strength to hold her head steady; her mind reeled as the world spun about her. A moment later, she collapsed and all went black.
* * * * *
The time approaches, Selerael, the voice spoke in her dreams. You must accept who you are.
Don’t talk to me, unless you can help me! she tried to hold on to the force that had contacted her but couldn’t as her thoughts were pulled back to consciousness.
“She’s waking up now—step back, please, and give her some room,” she heard Dr. Koslov’s voice growing closer. It took a considerable effort to open her eyes; she felt drained and tired.
A circle of faces surrounded her, most of them old friends from the Blue Stripes.
“How are you feeling?” Nikolai asked.
“Where am I?” Erin asked, and realized she was in the medical wing. Dr. Knightwood stood behind the others, conversing with Dr. Koslov. The man gave Erin sidelong knowing glances, making eye contact with her. He knows, Erin thought, straining to listen as Dr. Knightwood whispered plans for precautions they would take to keep the news confidential until the patient herself chose to make it known.
“How long have I been here?” Erin asked, her mouth dry as cotton.
“Well, sleeping beauty, you’ve been out for four days,” Einar informed her.
“We’ve been coming by in shifts to check on you—all of the old Blue Stripes—and a couple of your other friends—a Major Dimitriev was here to see you yesterday,” Nathalie winked at Erin from behind the group where the others couldn’t see her. “Even Kansier came down this morning. You looked really bad yesterday—feverish and delirious. But they wouldn’t say what’s wrong with you. Glad to see you’re better—” she looked away, and Erin knew she was lying. From the look Nathalie was giving her, she imagined she looked pretty bad. A moment later the Blue Stripes wished her a swift recovery and left together, leaving her alone with Knightwood and Dr. Koslov.
“What happened to Faulkner?” Erin asked but read the answer from Knightwood’s mind before Knightwood spoke.
He’s fine—but I’m more worried about what’s happening to you...
“He’s returned to normal—rational and healthy. But he remembers—he had proof of who you were back on Earth. Yes, Dr. Koslov knows,” Knightwood nodded, reading Erin’s expression, “but no one else—not even Zhdanov, as much as I’d like to tell him. We’ve isolated Faulkner for the time being to give him recuperation time, but I can’t let him go until you’re willing to tell everyone in your own way. It’ll be difficult keeping his story from the Colonel and the crew for much longer, though. Erin—he knows what you did to him. He wanted to come see you—but we have to keep him confined in the medical wing. And Kansier wants to see him as soon as possible—”
“I understand. I don’t have much time to come up with the best way to break the news to everyone,” Erin said and nodded.
“I’m afraid not.” Knightwood agreed. Several minutes passed as the doctors conferred, and Erin leaned back against the head cushion, allowing her mind to drift.
The doors swished open to allow a visitor, interrupting her thoughts.
“I came to see how Erin is doing,” Erin recognized Major Dimitriev’s voice and sat up. “Could you give us a moment alone, Knightwood?” Scott asked, and the two doctors left the room.
“Actually I came by to see you when you weren’t awake,” he said, coming to the end of the bed and sitting on an empty chair. He felt relieved to see her awake.
“I know—the others told me,” Erin whispered, focusing her eyes on him, but she began to feel sleep pulling at her and used all of her energy to remain awake. There were some things she wanted to tell him, now that they had been left alone since the first time she had met him back in Central City.
“Scott,” she surprised him by addressing him informally, “why are you here?”
“Why? Well, I—” He felt less defensive than he sounded.
“Before you say anything, there’s something you have to know. I’m—well, I’m afraid you won’t be able to forgive me once you know.”
Scott gave her a puzzled expression. “Forgive what? What have you done?” She forgive me? he thought. Oh, Erin, unpredictable to the end...
“No, Erin.” He said firmly. “It was me who did something to wrong you—” he broke off as she lifted herself upright in protest.
“No, don’t. I don’t want to hear anything about what I said that day on the Stargazer. I just wanted to tell you something—I’ve been remembering the first day we met all those years ago. It was foolish of me, I see now, to have allowed myself to dream about you, to look for you for years after that day, to see where you were—”
“Erin, if you’d just listen—” Scott began, with rising urgency, but she waved him silent. He listened, not desiring a confrontation that might tire her out.
“Let me finish.” She looked away and closed her eyes briefly, then spoke again in a quiet but resolute voice. “I see now how foolish I was. You have a fiancée. But I’ve been holding on to my feelings—”
“I know.”
“At least I couldn’t consciously let go of you, even though there were others—”
“You mean Erik,” Scott interrupted.
“Yes, Erik mostly. Anyway, it’s true that I was in love with you—Erik knew it all along, but you’re engaged, so I have to accept that. So, I’ve decided to forget what I feel and let you live your life. I hope you’ll let me take back my last confession. I just decided I was tiring of regrets, and I had to tell you that I don’t hold anything against you—” she faltered, feeling her strength leaving her.
Let her take back those words? He thought, dismayed by the suggestion.
“Erin,” he whispered, swallowing back fear as her face paled and her breathing suddenly seemed to come in ragged breaths. No words had never affected him like this before—he felt such upset to hear the admission that Erin no longer cared about him or that at least she was willing to put it aside for his sake.
Then he realized that Erin wasn’t moving.
“Knightwood! Dr. Koslov!” he cried, and the scientists appeared at the door. “Do something quickly!” he shouted. “I think she’s dead!”
Scott moved aside quickly and allowed Knightwood to approach. Dr. Koslov called Colonel Kansier from the videocom, even though it woul
d have been too late; it would take the Colonel a few minutes to arrive from the bridge.
Knightwood looked up in alarm, reading no pulse.
“Can you do something?” Scott shouted anxiously, reading her expression. Knightwood said nothing but quietly turned to retrieve the electro-cardio stimulator. What could she do? Knightwood thought. If this was the affliction that had killed the original inhabitants of Selesta, for God’s sake, what could she do? Yet Knightwood was too much of a fighter to give up trying.
Meanwhile, Scott watched, now paralyzed. He had not felt such desperation since his mother and beloved twin Katya were taken from him—such anger that those he loved most in the world were being taken from him far too soon in his life. Why was she dying? Not even the doctors would tell him. At the same time, his reservations about Catherine and Justin began to fade into the background as he realized that all this time, he loved her more than anyone.
As Scott watched the progress, Colonel Kansier arrived while the doctors tried to revive Erin, but her body did not seem to be responding to any of the machines they used to try to animate her. Kansier saw the expression of incredulity on Knightwood’s face. Her usual composure began to show cracks. She seemed almost distraught—frantic that she had made some kind of miscalculation. But why that expression, more than grief, more than sympathy? he wondered briefly, then turned to his own thoughts. The poor young woman, he thought, looking down on her. It was true his crew would be lost without her telepathic abilities in future alien encounters, but that was not his main concern right now. He found there was only room in his heart for sympathy and sadness; this unavoidable sentiment prevailed whenever young people died.
Minutes passed, and Knightwood stepped back, her eyes filling with tears. She met Kansier’s gaze and shook her head hopelessly.
As the doctors retreated, Scott bent down and took Erin’s limp hand in his tenderly. His head was bowed, but his voice was thick as he whispered to her.
“Erin, dearest Erin, I love you. You knew it, didn’t you? Didn’t you?” He asked, his eyes burning with unstoppable tears.
As he held her, the room was slowly filled with blue light, seeping through the observation window from the blue star just off Selesta’s path.