We Are Stardust (pt. 4)
Missed the previous parts? Start at the Beginning or Go Back One Part. Already read this? Check Out the Next Part.
Although no one had said it aloud or written it down or filled out any of the paperwork that could have made it official, Nyoka saw Rivera as her protégé, who would someday be in command of her own crew. The woman was in love with the stars; had said as much in her initial evaluation.
“I know there’s no return trip. That’s why I’m interested in going. In fact, once the Petram II colony is up and running, I want to be on the next ship from there as well. If I have my way, I’ll be on every ship leaving every colony.”
“The crews of these missions are often expected to take on leadership roles in the newly established colonies.”
“So I’ve heard. I guess admitting that I’m not interested in settling down on some distant speck probably hurts my chances in the eyes of the selection committee. But I’m a fan of honesty, and the truth is, I’m an explorer at heart. I want to be the first to do anything worth doing.”
For Nyoka, that was the moment she knew she wanted Rivera on her crew. She still struggled to accept that her mentee had thrown away everything just to spend more time with the Petrans. An insubordination charge would taint Rivera’s record forever. Technically speaking, Nyoka didn’t have to file the charge, but given the situation, not filing it would put the entire crew at risk should something happen to Rivera. In addition, she had no control over whether Massoud chose to file her own report.
The tiny acrobat was back, and this time it had a name and a face. Private Rivera spun recklessly through Nyoka’s head.
“Well someone should go after her!” Hughes exclaimed.
“No,” Nyoka said after a lengthy pause. “No, the order stands. Until we can communicate, we can’t risk extracting her. She’s stubborn, and wouldn’t come willingly. There’s too many things that could go wrong.”
“So… we just wait up here for 12 more weeks and hope Rivera survives?”
Massoud let out a sigh like a gouged tired. “Rivera is capable. The planet seems safe enough, and the pod has a first aid kit and radio. It’s not like she can’t call for help or come back if she gets into trouble.”
“And if she gets us on the Petrans’ bad side? What then?” Hughes pressed.
“Then we hope their language has a way to say ‘We apologize for the rashness of our youngest member. Her actions are not representative of the goals we have for human-Petran relations.’”
“And that they are a forgiving people,” Nyoka added.
DAISy’s voice, programmed to sound unobtrusive even when she had to intrude, filled the recreation room. “Attention crew: a new message has been received.”
Nyoka dropped from the pullup bar. Massoud dropped her table tennis paddle; a heater from Hughes flew right past her after barely nicking the edge of the table. The primary display lit up as the lights automatically dimmed for optimal viewing.
Rivera stood next to the stolen excursion pod wearing nothing but a look of unashamed surety. “Hello, this is Amelia Rivera, formerly of earth, recording a message for the crew of the ESS Exodus. The people you call Petrans have asked me to extend an invitation to you to join us for a celebration.”
“She figured out how to communicate with them?!” Hughes said with impressed incredulity. Nyoka hushed him with a glare so they could hear the recorded message.
“I have explained to them the nature and purpose of our arrival, and they wish to welcome you to their home. The People have a great desire to learn from you and hear stories of our home. Your arrival on the surface will be expected the morning of the second Petran day after you receive this transmission, approximately 30 hours from now. Although I can imagine you are quite angry with me, I hope you will accept this invitation. I also have a strong desire to speak with you. I have learned so much. I have some answers, but also many new questions I didn’t even know to ask.” Then, something shifted as she signed off; a sliver of Private Rivera flashed on screen in place of Amelia, formerly of earth. “I miss you guys. Franklin, Sophia… even you Commander. Please come.”
Despite spending the next full Petran day debating, the remaining crew of the Exodus eventually reached the decision unanimously. They would accept the invitation and all three journey to the surface of Petram II, official protocol be damned.
Just to be safe, though, Nyoka put the entire Exodus on full lockdown as they loaded into the shuttle. The night before she’d had a nightmare that Rivera slipped back to the ship while they were gone and jettisoned the entire population into space. She awoke weeping, and it took her a long time to convince herself that it hadn’t been real.
None of them spoke as they descended back to the seeming utopia. As the airlock seal broke and the door slid open, the delicious Petran air flooded the cabin. Nyoka’s stress melted away. Her spirit ascended once more.
“Did you ever find any reason why it feels so right to be here?” Massoud asked her.
Nyoka just shook her head. Here on the surface, in the midst of this bliss, trying to explain it away risked desecrating something wonderful.
Rivera, still naked, stood in the clearing a few meters from the tree line. She waved, and the Petrans with her waved too. Then she smiled, laughed, and beckoned them to her. “Hurry up!” she shouted. “You’re already running late!”
Thankfully, there was no coordinated mass of clamoring hands to convey Nyoka and her crew to the grove where Petrans had settled. Instead, the earthlings walked in a disheveled cluster while the indiginous people skipped alongside, singing joyful sounding songs.
While they traveled, the leader of the Petrans, the woman Nyoka had met on her first excursion, spoke rapidly. The sound was strange, but no stranger than hearing any non-native tongue spoken quickly. But as she spoke, her hands flashed in small movements, subtle twists and flicks of the wrist. Her shoulders moved in ways that didn’t look quite natural and certainly weren’t part of her natural stride. Occasionally she would half-raise an arm or quickly squat down low before shooting back up again. Trying to imagine learning such a language made Nyoka’s head spin.
As a girl, she’d struggled to perform the silly trick of rubbing your belly while patting your head. “Multitasking,” she told her crew when they were training, “Is an ineffectual buffoon’s excuse for doing many things poorly in a short amount of time.” She’d always preferred approaching problems methodically. So far, every dilemma she’d faced could be broken into steps to be completed in order. But a form of communication like this… this extravagantly choreographed dance colliding with intricate sign language and audible vocalizations… How could anyone focus on so many parts at once?
And yet, Rivera was. After the first break in the Petran woman’s speaking, Rivera turned to Nyoka and began to translate.
The Petrans watched intently as Massoud dug a small hole in the dirt. She took a fruit, split it open, and passed around the flesh. Then, she dug out a seed and showed it to the onlookers. They began to frown. She knelt beside her hole, but before she could place the seed within, the Petrans rushed forward and took the seed away from her. They laughed the way a parent might laugh after preventing a baby from making a foolish and dangerous mistake.
“It’s not possible,” Rivera repeated herself. “They won’t allow it.”
Massoud’s jaw clenched, her hands balled into fists, but the frustration dissipated quickly. It always did on the surface. “I’m confused then. They want to learn from us, but they won’t actually do any of the things we try to teach them to do? What is the point of us working with them?”
“You’re thinking about it wrong.” Hughes began to explain. “You have to let go of the idea of superior or inferior. They have no concept of better or worse. Everything just is. They don’t see themselves as needing our help. They don’t see themselves as needing better tech. They have no interest in it”
“No, that’s not it either,” Rivera corrected him, “They are interested in how we fly, they are interested in how we traveled the heavens; they aren’t against any of that, or indifferent to it. You’re right that they don’t see things in terms of better or worse, and they don’t see themselves as needing our help or our tech, but they are certainly interested in it. More than once they asked me if they could visit our home. At first they meant the Exodus, but when I explained it was only a vessel we used to travel from our home, they wanted me to take them to earth. It took me nearly two days to figure out how to explain to them that earth isn’t habitable anymore. They don’t have any words for death, decay, destruction, war, anything like that. They’ve got no concept of it. Nothing like that’s ever happened here, according to them. I can’t even figure out for sure how long they live or what they do with their dead, because they get confused and start to laugh and joke when I try to ask about their age. The closest thing to an answer I could get was that they are newer than the trees and the beasts.”
“Riv… Amelia, please get to the point. Why won’t they let me teach them basic agricultural strategies?” Massoud asked.
“It’s the one thing they were told never to do. They can’t plant seeds. It’s forbidden.”
“Told? By who? And if they don’t plant how the hell did they end up with so many domesticated fruits?” A hint of exasperation climbed into Hughes’ voice, but it too floated away on the breeze.
“I… I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure that out. I think it’s a religious thing. I just know they won’t let you plant seeds.”
Nyoka leaned against a large, mossy rock and ate red berries that grew in clusters on bushes all over. They were large and chewy, with a thick skin that had the texture of citrus rind, but none of the bitterness. When she’d first tried one, the Petrans gave her the most quizzical look she’d ever seen as she tried to peel it. Now she knew the skin was edible and a great source of protein.
“I know you might not ever be able to forgive me.” Rivera approached and leaned next to her. “And I know it must drive you crazy that I haven’t apologized.”
Not as crazy as knowing now you never will, Nyoka thought. What she said was, “I just wish I could understand why.”
“Even if I tell you, I don’t think you’ll understand.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“All my life I’ve felt like there was something missing. I’ve always felt like there was something more to reality. That if I could just find it, everything would click.”
“Everyone feels that way. It’s part of being human.” Nyoka emphasized the word to complete the thought without saying it: And you are still human.
“What if it’s just part of being lost?”
Nyoka didn’t respond, so Rivera continued. “It’s why I was so eager to join your crew. It’s why I didn’t think I’d want to settle here when we arrived. I knew I needed to keep searching. I didn’t know I would find what I was looking for. For the first time in my life I feel like everything has clicked. I feel like I’m not lost in the universe. This place feels more like home than Earth ever did.”
The unspoken subtext sent a pang of sadness and regret through Nyoka. These aliens feel more like family than my crew ever did. “So you’re completely set on this course of action. You’re not Private Rivera anymore.” Nyoka’s words came out as statements, though she meant them as questions.
“Not anymore, no. We both knew I’d eventually be on a different crew, right? It’s not the leadership role you envisioned but…” Rivera trailed off when the lump rose into her throat.
Nyoka said nothing more, and there was nothing more to say.
The two of them stood there for a long while, listening to the familiar drone of unfamiliar creatures hiding in the grass.
