“We drifted in space for many years, in a spaceship that wasn’t ours. To survive, we needed to learn. So we studied your civilization, down to the smallest detail, searching for anything that could be of use, that could keep us alive. We found a portion of the ship that housed living plants. And so, we planted shoots, collected droplets of water on leaves. We analyzed your computer, and learned by trial and error how to operate it.
“Then, one day, we were picked up by scrap dealers traveling the galaxies. After a few years, their hold was full, and they went off to sell the cargo on a huge construction site.”
“Alpha,” Valerian breathed.
The emperor nodded. “The city of a thousand planets, where for hundreds of years so many species have shared their knowledge and intelligence with each other. Patiently and discreetly, we learned from each of them, and we pieced together our own vessel. Our planet is gone forever, but now, we are able to virtually reconstitute our world.”
“Amazing,” Valerian exclaimed.
“There are only two things that we lack,” the emperor continued.
“A Mül converter,” Laureline said.
“And a pearl,” said Valerian.
“The only one Tsûuri managed to salvage,” the emperor said.
Valerian was starting to fill in the blank spaces in the narrative. “So, a year ago, you signal your existence, and you make contact with us,” he said, working it out.
Laureline was piecing it together, too. “And the only thing you ask for in compensation for all you have lost is the last converter alive in order to mass-produce your pearl,” said Laureline.
“Yes,” replied the emperor. “That was all. We could do the rest.” A shadow settled upon his beautiful face. “But during the handover, things did not go as planned.”
“What happened?”
He paused for a moment, clearly still feeling the pain of what happened. “A unit came to negotiate with us outside the wall—where you stood just now. Tsûuri stepped through the wall to speak with them. We were all so pleased that, at last, we could honor those who had died by rebuilding the world we had so loved.
“A young captain met us there. He had a metallic box at his side—we believe it was the converter. He seemed uneasy, and spoke to someone who was not present. This person— the commander of the mission—asked how many of us there were. When the captain replied, he gave his orders.”
The emperor paused. “The commander of the mission said, ‘I want no survivors. Annihilate them all!’”
Valerian and Laureline stared at him. Valerian didn’t want to believe it. His people? Why?
The emperor smiled sadly. “The unfortunate captain looked confused, but he obeyed his order. Many of my people were fatally wounded. A few, including Tsûuri, managed to make it back through the wall alive.
“What… why…” Laureline stammered, shocked beyond the ability to form a coherent question.
The emperor continued. “After—after the attack, we continued to observe what was happening on the other side of the wall, hoping we could somehow rescue our injured brethren. But we could not—and we were not the only ones who were betrayed that terrible day. The poor captain received another transmission. The commanding officer spoke. ‘I said: no survivors. Annihilate them all!’ And so, the captain and his men fell—killed by hidden black-armored robots, tall, sleek, and merciless.”
K-TRONs, Valerian thought, feeling ill. K-TRONs under the command of whoever was heading that mission.
Valerian and Laureline could say nothing. What was there to say? It was too awful to comprehend.
“We are survivors, but that makes us witnesses,” the emperor said quietly. “Witnesses of the past that humans want to erase and forget forever.”
“We can forgive,” the empress said, “but how can we forget?”
Valerian and Laureline exchanged sick, sad glances. Then Laureline spoke. Her voice was raw, almost as if she had been crying. “So they… we… left you no choice but to steal the converter from us. Tsûuri hired a professional to do the job…”
“Igon Siruss!” yelped Valerian. It all came together.
“But,” Laureline continued, “zealous Major Valerian intervenes during the transaction, and retrieves the converter.”
“You’d exhausted all your options by that point,” Valerian said. “The only thing you could do to get the converter was to kidnap the commander and force him to tell the truth.”
The emperor nodded. “You know our story now. Our destiny is in your hands.”
The emperor motioned to his wife. Empress Aloi nodded and knelt beside the slumbering form of Commander Filitt. Gentle, even now, she ran a long-fingered hand over his brow. He woke with a panic-stricken start and leapt to his feet.
“Where am I? Men!” His gaze fell on Valerian. “Major?”
He rushed over to the two agents and put them between him and the emperor. “Major! Arrest these creatures immediately! They kidnapped me! They’re extremely dangerous!”
“They are Pearls from planet Mül,” said Valerian, coldly.
Filitt stared at him. Something flickered, frightened and ugly, in the depths of his eyes, to be replaced by the more familiar hardness. “Yes—they are. They told me their ridiculous story. But it’s impossible. Mül was uninhabited.”
Laureline scoffed, and pointed to the Pearls. “Their existence proves the contrary, doesn’t it?”
Filitt flushed darkly, and his expression grew dangerous. “There was no life on the planet, I’m telling you. The detectors were categorical. Arrest them—and that’s an order!”
Valerian’s eyes narrowed. “How can you be so sure?”
Filitt’s eyes slid away. “Because I—I read the reports, and—”
Valerian finished for him. “And you were on board.”
He’d seen his share of cornered criminals. He knew what would come next. Anger, justification, perhaps pleading.
Filitt did not disappoint. “Yes,” he snapped. “I was on board. And we had plenty more to worry about! Our cruisers were being decimated. We lost five hundred thousand soldiers in one day. Half a million of our people, Agent! It was complete carnage!”
Valerian shoved his face to within an inch of the commander’s. “And you were so preoccupied that you didn’t see the detector indicating signs of life on the planet.”
The commander looked confused.
“Or even worse,” Laureline put in, “perhaps you knew the planet was inhabited and deliberately sacrificed it.”
Too much had happened to Arun Filitt. He stared at the young agents, wondering how they had found him, wondering where he was, wondering what had happened. How it had gone so wrong. It wasn’t wrong, what he did, it was necessary. How could they possibly understand? They weren’t there, having to make decisions that affected millions.
And there had been no life on the planet. This couldn’t be real.
And yet…
The memory, until now distorted, revised, shoved away to the back of his mind, descended like a creature too long leashed and now set free—angry, and too powerful to resist.
“Engage fusio-missiles!” Commander Filitt shouted, screaming to be heard over the din of attack, the crackle and spitting of damaged equipment, and the screams of the dying. Through the cacophony of battle, somehow he heard Major Samk’s panic-stricken voice.
“Commander?” The major stood at his post, which was operating the detector that scanned for any and all forms of life.
“What is it?” The ship took another hit and everyone stumbled, clutching at chairs or consoles to stay on their feet.