"I promise, I will," she nodded, "I'll flush out the vapors, Kiel. I will try to save the rest of us.”
Dear Alessia, I am sorry. His thoughts interrupted her; he knew full well that he was beyond hope. His eyes were clouding, no longer piercing or radiant, perhaps looking inward.
Stifling a sob, she bent her head to kiss him gently, but Fielikor Kiel had gone. When she raised her head, his face had taken on an expression of serene calm, unlike the others, but there was something unsettling in his eyes, as though the truth of the beyond did not surprise him.
Had he joined Hinev in a far better place?
Then why had his body, like Hinev’s, not faded into energy?
* * * * *
Alessia hurried to the intercom, her eyes never leaving the body of Kiel.
"Explorers,” she said steadily, “This is Alessia, reiterating Kiel’s orders. Get away from the ninth level laboratory. An anti-serum vapor cloud is spreading like a biological weapon throughout Selesta. Head for the uncontaminated areas of the ship and seal them off–it is the only thing for our survival." She pushed in the videocom and tried to reach the bridge.
"Broah?" Alessia asked after a moment of silence, but no one responded. "Visual," she called into the computer for a video link since the explorers on the bridge had not patched her signal through.
The air on the bridge had a sickly green cast to it. One of the explorers lay on the floor, moving in spasmodic jerks–Derstan, she thought. Kilran had slumped in his chair at the communications console–that must have been why they hadn't responded. She did not see Broah, but the door to the crew quarters had been left open.
And it had let the serum virus cloud in.
Alessia picked herself up, feeling a light-headedness and left the laboratory, wondering how she had the energy to continue and expecting every moment that she would fall dead to the ground as the others had done.
In the corridor, she passed several untouched mortal Seynorynaelians. Through the mist in her eyes, she saw their shocked expressions, their terror that paled in comparison to what she had just been a witness.
Alessia felt she had to locate Broah, but in her heart, she wanted to die, now that Kiel was gone. When her time approached, she would make it back to Kiel and take her last breath at his side. Her mind longed for that moment, when the torment would be over, but in the mean time she intended to struggle, to try to fulfill her promise to him. The burning sensation in her lungs grew stronger as the moments passed, but she kept going.
She had been exposed long enough to the full concentration of the vapors that had killed those in the laboratory; nevertheless, she reached the bridge.
She found Celekar in the corridor on the way, catching his breath in painful, ragged gasps.
"Alessia," he called out, reaching a weak hand out to her.
“Celekar!” She cried, holding his hand; the strong, noble-hearted man that clung to her fingers had not even the strength of a child.
"Please, Alessia,” he cried, turning to her with an expression that defied Death humbling him, turning him into a writhing animal, as he had witnessed in the others. “End my pain! Alessia!"
She knew that his body had deteriorated enough that he could be killed. A quick and painless death would be preferable to the agony she had heard in the ninth level laboratory.
She didn't know what to do, but stopped in a nearby quarters to retrieve a laser gun. Many of the doors she passed had been flung open as the explorers, like her, rushed out to see what had happened before receiving the message for quarantine. Some had made it to the bridge, she guessed, but Celekar had collapsed a few steps short, unable to move, and leaned against the wall.
Lierva– he thought sadly, remembering the long gone days of The Firien Project, before Hinev’s serum changed his life forever.
Lierva! Alessia stifled a sob. Lierva, dearest, bravest Lierva, was already gone!
Alessia lifted the nozzle and looked away, firing one wide, painless stream of light through Celekar’s chest. When she looked again, he was dead.
Broah had fallen on the bridge near the doorway, but she was still alive. It seemed that further away from the source of the vapor cloud, the explorers had been spared from its full potency, only to linger longer in the horror and the pain of the anti-serum.
"Alessia!" Broah cried out, incredulous. "How have you returned?" she asked, seeing the grief in Alessia's eyes. Broah couldn’t even approach a mindlink before she shuddered and closed off her own thoughts. She didn’t want to know that way. Glancing into Alessia's eyes was enough for her to understand that nothing would ever again be the same. They were doomed, and the universe did not care.
"Who is here?" Alessia asked and glanced around, counting and identifying the crew that had instinctively fled to the bridge.
Ioka was there, still standing on her own, and Nal-ayn, Onracey, Cerdko, Hilden, and Wen-eil.
"Kilran and Filaria are dead." Broah said, but not without compassion, even as she tried to be calm. "Of the rest of us, Ioka, Loussya, and Hilden are the least affected–except for you, Alessia. I can hardly believe you returned. My legs no longer hold me–I don't know how we'll get out of here." She added, looking at Alessia as though she expected her to take on the role of holding the group together, as she had tried to do in the last few moments.
"Did anyone make it out?" Alessia asked.
"There's been no word from anyone–except your message.” Broah replied. “I couldn't make it over to the console–and Kilran was already gone. The others hadn't arrived yet. Ioka would have gone to respond, but no one else has contacted us."
"We have to contact the Seynorynaelian refugees on board–Kiel said we’ve got to flush out the vapors.” Alessia said. “They can’t breathe in the vacuum, so we’ll have to divide the ship if they wish to stay. Until then, we should have them find the rest of the explorers and bring them to the bridge. We'll seal off our crew quarters nearby and the botanical gardens. The refugees can have the rest of the ship until we work out a better arrangement."
* * * * *
Of the original thirty-one explorers, only five were sill alive. Alessia's worst fears had come true–none of them had escaped the vapor cloud. After years of fearlessness, secure in their own immortality, they had each acted selflessly to find each other before hearing the message urging quarantine.
The last group of three had been found together in the crew quarters corridors, two alive and one dead–Elta, Talden, and Sar-a, Talden and Elta trying to carry between them the dead body of their friend. The Seynorynaelians who had become the explorer's closest friends had immediately responded to Alessia's message and brought their companions to the bridge, after which Alessia divided their ship and opened the unsealed contaminated areas of their section to space to flush out the anti-serum cloud.
Many of the other Seynorynaelians, fearful after what had happened, and unconvinced that they too would not be affected by the strange virus, kept away–in the Great Bay and areas on the other side of the ship. Some saw the death of the immortal creatures as a sign that the ship and the explorers had been cursed by the Elders. Alessia sensed that they would want to leave Selesta to take their chances on the Empire worlds.
They could take the trader vessels and many of the starships the explorers had retrieved at great cost for when they had reached a suitable planet–leaving the attached Sesylendae behind, its unknown ancient guidance systems rendering it useless to them.
After two days, it became clear that the explorer's optimism about escaping had been premature. The rest of the crew that had lived became more affected by the virus as the hours passed, slowly suffering from the burning sensation that had affected their lungs and organs or coming down with the anti-serum convulsions or fever-illness and dying. The second day, Onracey begged for euthanasia, but he died before it could be given.
> Alessia gradually came down with the illness that sent her fevers and chills, but she continued to administer to her fellow explorers as long as her feet would hold her. Broah finally called out to her early the third morning.
Her faint smile tried to comfort Alessia, even to the end. Broah's thoughts told her there was no more need for concern. She was grateful for what Alessia had done in keeping them together, and for trying to save them. But it was all over now.
Ioka followed soon after. In less than a week, all of them had passed but Alessia. The bodies on the bridge, and the others of Kiel and those in the labs that Ordeg had brought to the crew quarters could not decay in the void, even if they could after the metamorphosis, for their deaths were unnatural, and even in the break-down their bodies had fought the virus. The affected explorers could still communicate with each other with their minds, live without a breathable atmosphere–even to the end. It was the uncontrollable struggle of the serum and anti-serum cells that killed them, and caused such excruciating pain.
Hilden had been the last to die, and his departure left Alessia alone.
Tendays passed, and Alessia lay on the bridge unmoving, battling the anti-serum as she had fought the serum itself. Then, after time uncounted had passed, her vision began to clear and the fever finally broke. Days went by, and she found she had strength to stand, then to move around. Finally, the time came when she knew she had recovered. She could hardly believe that she had survived. Why had she been the only one? Why had she been left alone?
Then the answer hit her–as Hinev must have realized, her immune system was strong, stronger than the serum. It had survived the serum itself, though why she did not know. Her own immunity had been present in integration with the serum system, had adapted itself, but it had never succumbed completely. That had been her lifeline, the force that enabled her to defeat the anti-serum and heal her own body.
And now it was time to go on alone, to finish her mission. But loyalty to the only family she had ever known came first. She would take Kiel to Celestian, as he had wished.
Alessia called out to the computer and instructed it telepathically to stay on course for the Celestian worlds. Turning aside to connect the last atmosphere pack to speak to the Seynorynaelians on board, she ignored its protests.
We must go to Kiel3, it droned again, but she refused. Very well. We shall go to Celestian first. But then we will depart for Kiel3, it paused, as though reluctant to succumb to her orders, but what else could it do?
Alessia, it is–a miracle, a miracle that you have survived. She started, wondering why it had added the last remark. To her mind, there was a trace of feeling in its voice that should not have come from a machine.
You won’t get any response, the computer informed her after a few moments, when she tried to contact the population on board. They have all left.
All of them? she echoed, paling.
Ordeg was the last to go. He thought you had died. He didn't want to leave, but he couldn't reach you through the sealed corridors. The others took the ships and headed for Goeur, I think, or one of the other colonies, I'm not sure. They weren't sure, either. But they took plenty of supplies to last the journey–three of the colonies aren’t far from here.
Alessia stood motionless for a long time.
Flush out the rest of the atmosphere in the ship, she said stonily, more to fulfill her promise to Kiel than anything else. She was sure now that the anti-serum virus could not harm her again.
And could anything else ever harm her again?
* * * * *
Alessia closed the door to the room that held the preserved bodies of her fellow explorers, her companions throughout the long voyages from their home. She said good-bye to her closest friends, laying Lierva by Celekar and then put Broah beside Derstan, Ioka, and In-nekel.
Kiel, Gerryls, and Kellar's bodies were the last three she brought into the room. Even the bodies from the laboratory held no trace of the anti-serum vapors that had killed them. She permanently sealed the room located in one of the most remote sections of the ship not far from the laboratory that had ended it all.
Someday she might bury them on Celestian, she thought.
But it would take a long time to get there. The space-tearing engine was not working, and there were few centipede hole passages between here and Rigell.
Even her warp-tachiyon engine could not be used to reach Celestian without stopping frequently to plot a new course avoiding large stellar objects such as stars, pulsars, and planetary systems.
But she was in no hurry. She alone had an eternity to live, and nothing left to live for.
* * * * *
After five hundred years, she set the suspended animation capsule to hold her. At last she had tired of the waiting, the solitude, and could not bear the anticipation until her arrival on Celestian. But perhaps it was for the best that so many years had passed since Hinev's colony departed for the Celestian worlds, she told herself. If she had arrived too soon they might have seen her as a representative of the Empire and the life the colonists had rejected.
No matter what, she would persuade them to accept her, that she was of no threat, that she would help them and care for them as Hinev once had.
She allowed a glimmer of hope into her thoughts as she lay down for the long sleep.
The Celestian people were the last of Hinev’s beloved colony. And they were all she had left.
As she slept, one and a half thousand years passed before the computer wakened her. She had returned to Rigell's system. She had come to the Celestian worlds...
Outside Alessia’s thoughts, on the bridge of Sesylendae, Derica took a step forward as Selerael flinched in her mother's arms.
What was going on? she wondered.
She watched him fall, and almost did nothing.
She watched from the shadows of the cave as the injured pilot crawled from his downed plane, tumbling to the ground when his legs failed him. His crisp white flightsuit was torn in several places; gasping through the broken shield of his helmet, he struggled to relieve himself of it, tossing it away from him with his one good hand, letting it skid over to the edge of the cliffs.
In the aperture, Alessia stared at him. The pilot’s face, the wide-set blue eyes, the layers of short blond hair, damp with sweat and clinging to his brow and neck, captured her attention. Her gut clenched, but she couldn’t understand why. Why, why did she feel as though she were exposed with him out there on the ledge, with five Orian ships circling overhead, searching for their prey? Why did it seem so wrong that his life should end out here in the sand? She had seen many men die. One more could hardly affect her, could it?
She almost did nothing. Moreover, he could easily be a Orian spy, she told herself. His face was more Orian, more Seynorynaelian, than most Tiasennians.
Meanwhile, defying death, the pilot had summoned stubborn energy to drag himself away, scraping himself along the sandy ledge, despite the line of dark violet dripping from a deep rend in his abdomen. He kept on, though his face bore the mark of delirium, a sure sign that he would never reach the safety of the aperture in the cliffs. He was dying.
Still, he clawed his way forward, struggled to live.
Then behind him, the plane exploded. The pilot struggled to protect his head from the fragments of shrapnel raining on him.
After that, he did not move. The Orian planes circled above. In moments, they would be upon him.
Alessia conquered her indecision. With a desperate air conscious of the few precious moments she had, she hurried to the pilot’s motionless body, a Seynorynaelian cloak billowing about her ankles, and gently lifted the injured man above the ground, then carried him back to the safety of the aperture.
A moment later, the five planes skimmed low over the area. Satisfied that they had annihilated their prey, they took to the ski
es once more.
She took him into her cliffside retreat, into the medical room she had prepared when they had found Korten years ago, floating in the sea, barely alive after being shot down by his own squadron.
She had but seconds to repair the damage to his abdomen through telekinetic healing. The damage to his intestinal system was so severe that she marveled he had survived thus far as she concentrated on restoring the systems to a functioning level, while at the same time using her telekinetic power to keep him from losing more blood. At the same time, she prepared medicines and the support systems that might help restore him, using stores of preserved Seynorynaelian blood, not her own, in transfusions that she hoped would save his life.
There was no guarantee that he would live, she knew, even with the power of her telekinetic healing and the medicines of Seynorynael, the few she had left, not unlike those she had used to cure Deloch on Kiel3, long ago. The pilot had lost so much blood and had suffered so much damage; telepathically, she checked to see if he had incurred any brain damage and repaired a few minor injuries there.
At first it seemed he wouldn’t survive. She could not register that fact with detachment, she realized, watching as his life signs fluctuated. Several times over the next few days she contemplated giving him a transfusion of her own blood. Yes, that would heal him! Hinev’s serum would save his life!
All the time, she was conscious of the fact that she had made that mistake before. Was she ready to accept the consequences again? Could she really accept the responsibility if he rejected the serum, as so many had in Hinev’s laboratory? She had not had much time to contemplate before, with Sargon, whose life would certainly have ended had she not saved him with a serum transfusion, and her long attachment to Sargon had quelled her reservations against risking the serum metamorphosis.
While she vacillated, the pilot’s condition improved on its own. After a tenday his eyes fluttered open, and he began to move in his sleep panel, though slowly, then raised his head and torso.