Commander Arun Filitt was sprawled, unmoving, at the emperor’s feet. From this distance, Valerian couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead.
“I present to you my father, the emperor,” Tsûuri said solemnly.
“My name is Haban-Limaï, and this is my wife, Aloi,” the emperor said. His voice was as beautiful as he was, as everything here was, and Valerian shivered at the sound.
The empress’s face lit up with joy. “Melo hiné! We are so pleased to welcome you here.”
Valerian’s gaze darted again to Tsûuri. The movement did not escape the emperor’s notice. “You ran into my son this morning, I understand,” Haban-Limaï observed.
“Briefly, between bullets,” Valerian responded.
Haban-Limaï looked at Tsûuri with great affection. Then he said, “My son sensed the presence of his sister, Princess Lïho-Minaa.”
He turned his mesmerizing, deep blue eyes upon Valerian. His cheeks suffused with a soft, luminous pink hue. “It seems she chose you.”
“What do you mean?” Valerian asked.
Sorrow flitted across the elegant features. “We are a long-lived people, but not even a star can shine forever. Or a Pearl. At the moment of our passing, we release all the energy left in our body in the form of a wave, which travels through space and time. We cast our memories, our souls, all that is when the body is no more, out into the universe. Sometimes, the wave crests and dissipates alone in the cold darkness. But not always. Sometimes it finds a benevolent host.”
He paused, and then said, “My Lïho-Minaa chose you to be the guardian of her soul.”
“Ah,” Valerian said softly, in wonder. Then he said to Laureline under his breath, “I told you!”
The empress had risen. Tears swam in the azure glory of her eyes. Her cheeks, too, were a soft warm rose. She stepped toward him, her tan and orange robes fluttering with the graceful movement. “My daughter…”
Valerian panicked for just an instant as the empress reached out long-fingered, slender hands and slipped them around his. Then, suddenly, everything in him that was little and petty, insecure and self-centered, fearful and angry, seemed to simply dissolve. Calmness filled him. He breathed in and out, and it was the ancient rhythm of every sea pulled to the shore by the sweet song of its moons, every mother’s kiss on the beloved child’s brow, every kind laugh, every soft sigh, and the vast twinkling of every star.
For the first time in his energetic, tumultuous life, Valerian tasted peace.
He felt her stir within him, summoned by her mother’s longing words, and Empress Aloi took a quick breath. Laureline was staring at him—no. Not at him.
At Princess Lïho-Minaa.
“Oh, my dear one… I am so happy to see you,” the empress… the mother whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
As am I, came the—words? Thoughts?
“Same here,” stammered Valerian. “I mean, she is, too.”
The empress’s full-hearted smile turned slightly playful at Valerian’s words, and she released his hands. He dared not look at Laureline. Not yet. One of the Pearls brought them drinks. Laureline and Valerian accepted the beverage, but did not drink.
The emperor raised his glass. “To my daughter’s memory!”
The two humans paused with their drinks at their lips. Valerian pointed to the commander. “If we drink with you, should we expect to suffer the same fate?”
He had to ask, but he knew the answer. He had known it, really, ever since he had woken from the “dream” of a world destroyed.
The emperor must have seen it in his face. He smiled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Your friend is merely sleeping. Do you want us to wake him up?”
Valerian glanced again at the commander, and started to grin when he heard Filitt’s soft snoring.
“It can wait. And I wouldn’t call him my friend.” Valerian gazed intently at the emperor, sobering slightly. “Where do you come from?”
“Ah, I thought you had worked that out.”
He had. But it was one thing to think it, another to speak it.
“Planet Mül,” Valerian said quietly.
Laureline’s eyes were wide. The emperor continued to speak, and as he did so, Valerian saw in his mind, as real as if it were all playing out before him in reality, everything the Pearl said.
“Our planet was a true paradise, in which we lived in harmony with the elements.”
Valerian saw the Twelve Wise Sisters, as the Pearls called the dozen moons that orbited their world, hovering protectively over their child, the sea. Fishermen were hauling nets swollen with pearls, which they spread on the sand and, laughing, began to sort.
“Our main activity was fishing for the pearls which possessed phenomenal energy. They fertilized our lands, controlled the winds and tides…”
Carrying woven baskets of the precious objects, the Pearls strode inland, heading to a small crater. They upended their baskets, pouring thousands of harvested pearls into the crater’s mouth.
“Three times a year, we gave to the earth what the sea had given us. And so we had lived, in harmony, for centuries incalculable.” His voice turned heavy. “Until the day it all ended.”
Valerian tensed. He did not want to see this again. Did not want to see laughing children, chasing one another along the white sand beach, stop and stare as a meteorite streaked across the heavens, followed by thousands of others.
“In the sky over Mül,” said the emperor, “other people blindly fought out a brutal war. A war that wasn’t ours.”
“Your daughter died during the battle,” Valerian said. It was a statement, not a question.
“Yes,” said the emperor, his voice heavy with sorrow. “She died… along with six million others.”
There was silence. Laureline stared in horror, then chugged her cocktail. Valerian peered at her. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” Laureline replied, defensively. “I… I was thirsty! Can I get another wonderful house cocktail please?” She didn’t look like she thought it was wonderful. She looked sick and shaken by the realizations that were coming thick and fast.
And Valerian realized that he, too, could use a drink.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Noïntan Okto-Bar prided himself on being in control and operating by the book. No flashy, dramatic gestures, just hard work, a keen eye for gathering the up-and-coming as staff members, and a cool head when things got hot.
But now, though, he found himself holding an empty shot glass that had very recently contained Scotch to calm nerves that were more jangled than he could ever remember. He stared dolefully at the screen, resisting the temptation for another drink. One shot steadies nerves, a second gets on them, he told himself.
All at once, streams of data flashed on the screen.
“We have contact, General,” Neza informed him. He looked as pleased and relieved as Okto-Bar felt.
About time, the general thought. He plunked the empty shot glass down and straightened.
“All right, Captain Kris,” he said, his voice as calm and steady as ever, “we are locked onto you.”
“We see no signs of radiation or contamination,” came Kris’s voice. “Can you confirm?”
Okto-Bar’s gaze moved over the screen. “Sounds crazy, but yes… confirmed. Zero trace of either.”
“Make note that we are proceeding without our gas masks. Moving forward.”
Okto-Bar’s eyes flickered to the empty glass, then back to the screen. What the hell is going on down there?
The Pearls had brought Valerian and Laureline more drinks. They were cool, and sweet, and soothing, much like the Pearls themselves, and Valerian and Laureline drank gratefully. At last, Valerian asked, “What happened after the explosion? How did you survive?”