“Valerian, the Federation messed up and must make amends.” Laureline was adamant.
“I agree, but that’s not for us to decide. We have to leave it to the courts.”
He knew Laureline well enough to know when she was hanging onto her temper by a thread. Right now, that thread snapped. “They’re eighteen light years away, Valerian! Only we can make this right!”
He pressed his lips together tightly. “Laureline, I’m a soldier. I play by the rules. It’s what makes me who I am.”
There was a long pause. The righteous anger faded from Laureline’s face. Then she said quietly, a trace of sorrow lacing her words, “You see? That’s why I don’t want to marry you. Because you don’t really know what love is.”
“Come on!” exclaimed Valerian, fear making his words sharp. “This situation has nothing to do with love, or even you and me!”
Tears glistened in Laureline’s eyes. “That’s where you’re wrong. Love, real love, it’s more powerful than anything else, Valerian. It’s more powerful than rules and laws. More powerful than any army or government.”
She looked over at the empress. “Look at her,” she said, her voice full of admiration. “She had her whole people and one of her children taken from her, and she’s prepared to forgive. That’s love. It’s the trust you place in someone.” Laureline turned back to him. “And I thought I could be that someone. That… that I could be the most important thing in your life, Valerian.”
“You are,” Valerian said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I’d die for you.”
But that was not the right answer. Laureline shook her blonde head, frustrated. “You don’t understand. I’m not asking you to die for me. I’m asking you to trust me.”
They stared at one another. Her face was radiant with intensity, with longing—a yearning for connection. Valerian wanted very badly to be what she needed. To really understand what she needed.
Finally, Valerian said, hesitantly, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“No,” Laureline said bluntly, startling him. “But I know that if a whole race is wiped out because you have no faith in me, I’ll never be able to look at you again.”
And then, Valerian understood. Trust. Of course it would be trust, wouldn’t it? Courage, loyalty, even love— he could give those easily. But he had known betrayal, and trust—real, perfect trust—came harder to him than anything else.
But he trusted Laureline.
Valerian nodded tentatively. “All right,” he said at last. “Give it to them.”
Laureline smiled. Not with her lips, or even her eyes, but her whole face—her whole being—lit up like a sun. And Valerian knew, whatever happened, that he had made the right choice. She wiped at her eyes, then stepped forward and kissed him.
Her lips were warm and soft, and there was something sweet and powerful in that kiss. Valerian felt dizzy and clear-minded all at once. He had trusted Laureline, and now she had offered him a kiss that was stirring, sweet, unguarded, and absolutely real. He melted into it, offering himself up to her in the same way, and when she pulled back and whispered, “Thank you,” it was all right. She was Laureline, and he trusted her.
She held the converter in her arms, and walked over to the empress. With a final, farewell pat, she held the little creature out to Aloi. It chirped and squirmed happily as it ducked its head under the empress’s throat.
“Here,” Laureline said. “We are to blame for the loss of your planet. We would be honored to help you get it back.”
“Melinama!” said the empress, tears in her own eyes as she embraced the converter.
“It means ‘thank you,’” Valerian said.
“Come with us,” the emperor said. “You should see what your compassion will accomplish.”
The two agents followed him as he approached a small crater. Valerian was reminded of a similar one on Mül, where the fishermen emptied their catch. The emperor handed the pearl to his wife. She held it in one hand, the Mül converter in the other. The little animal sniffed at the pearl, then opened its narrow snout and swallowed. Valerian watched as its reptilian top portion changed colors, like a sunset bleeding from one hue into the next. He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from it and was only dimly aware that the rest of the Pearls had come up to them, enclosing them inside a circle of joined hands.
The empress stroked the converter with affection, then held it out over the crater. It shivered and grew larger—and then began to eject perfect, lustrous pearls into the crater.
A strange, haunting, beautiful sound rose around Valerian, and he realized the Pearls were beginning to sing. His heart was racing and his breath was shallow with wonder.
A bright, clean, white light emanated from the crater. Then, like an erupting volcano spewing lightning instead of lava, fingers of white crackled through the air, racing along the curving sides of the zeppelin. A wind picked up out of quite literally nowhere, whipping Valerian and Laureline’s hair. Colors, the radiant hues of an opalescent shell, snaked over and along and around them, and then the grids along the side of the zeppelin were obscured. Sky burst into being over their heads—a sky Valerian recognized, filled with rounded moons and a slight freckling of stars in the darker blue.
Rocks jutted upward as if sketched into existence by the dancing strands of light. Valerian felt the hardness of the flooring give slightly beneath his feet as it was transformed into sand.
He and Laureline were watching the birth of a world.
The crackling of the creative force ceased, and the wind died down to a gentle breeze. Soft, gentle rain pattered down on Valerian’s upturned face and he closed his eyes briefly, then opened them to discover there was nothing left to be seen of the walls of the zeppelin.
Instead, Valerian beheld myriad rainbows, sparkling everywhere after the rain. With a faint rustling sound almost inaudible to his ears, lush vegetation started to grow from the rocks, sending forth questing roots and bursting leaves and flowers. All the pair of astonished spatio-temporal agents could see now were endless panoramas with clear blue sky stretching to the horizon.
Valerian and Laureline stood back to back, each beholding the wonder exploding into being around them. Impulsively Valerian extended his hand, reaching for Laureline’s.
She was already reaching for him. Their hands met and clasped, fingers entwining, the simple touch of human flesh in its own way as beautiful and magical as what was happening around them.
The empress still held the converter. It had returned to its normal size, its ears and tail drooping as if from exhaustion. Valerian couldn’t blame the little fellow. He’d just completed quite a task.
No, he wasn’t done yet. There was a final cough, and a few more pearls fell into the crater.
They heard it before they saw it: a rushing, deep, primal sound. And then, the sea, so beloved by the Pearls, could be glimpsed as a sliver of silver on the horizon, surging forward, its waves high. For an instant, Valerian was terrified the Pearls had inadvertently created a tsunami, but even as the thought formed, the sea was tamed, and by the time it reached the white stretch of sand beneath their feet, it lapped gently.
He smiled a little. These were Pearls. Their whole culture, their whole world, was based upon harmony and tranquility. All that had ever been harsh on Mül had come from outside. They would never birth a world with harm in it.
Laureline squeezed his hand, then turned toward him, grinning. “Didn’t you say you wanted to go to the beach?”
The empress walked toward them, reaching out her long, pale fingers to Valerian. Laureline released his hand, allowing the Aloi to take both of Valerian’s in hers.