Aur Child

Are they gone?

The green glow erupted directly over the last known fix of the team. She flicked through the data and tweaked the sensitivity of the receivers. Status screens refreshed repeatedly. She motored closer to the shore. Exposing a few additional meters of the mast might eliminate any potential interference from the thrashing seas.

Calliope trained her processors to hold the ship steady as the black of the night deepened. The lenses of the masthead camera within the eye of Odyssey were set to gather all possible light. Both she and Digambar were silent, focused on the task at hand. Neither had spoken since the monitors had glowed green several minutes earlier when all communications with the team were lost. At some point, Linus had stopped his strumming.

The sky had continued to glow green for a few moments after the initial flash. That could only mean one thing. She wondered if Digambar already knew. How would she explain? With so little data, it couldn’t be proven.

“Mother?” Orpheus spoke over the audio so that Digambar would also hear him. Calliope took note of his using the personal title. “I’ve recorded a sound that does not match a lightning strike.”

“Send it to me.” She regretted her curt reply. It would make all of them uneasy when they needed to remain calm. She compared the signature of Orpheus’ audio file to what she had recorded herself. “Without clear pressure readings, I can’t confirm this,” she said.

“Confirm what?” These were Digambar’s first words since the data had stopped coming in. Her eyes were racing around the spread of static displays. The map had stopped updating. The video had gone black and there had been no audio since Talle’s staticky yell about someone leaning over too far. The crew’s statistics hadn’t changed for several minutes except for the words “Signal Lost” flashing in the upper corner.

Calliope knew she must say it.

“An Aur boule explosion.”

“That’s impossible,” Digambar pursed her lips.

“In this storm, it’s not impossible.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“We should get Orpheus off the beach as soon as possible.”

“Wait,” Digambar eyes widened, “we’re retrieving the tender?”

Calliope snapped back at Digambar.

“No. We’re rescuing Orpheus.”

After inserting a sunrise timetable to the display Digambar was looking at, she continued, “Guest Dharmavaram, you must go with Linus if we’re to successfully recover his brother.”

Digambar seemed to be oblivious to what was happening.

“He’s exposed and helpless there on the beach.”

No answer. Digambar just sat there in a trance. Calliope knew this had been a hasty plan. She cursed herself for not pushing back harder when Talle had ignored her advice. Freyja would easily find fault in this. If it weren’t for her suspicion that only two of the three boules had exploded, the mission would be a complete catastrophe. But that wasn’t the priority right now. If they couldn’t recover Orpheus, none of it would matter.

“Mother,” Orpheus whispered, as if sensing her thoughts. “I am well hidden here.”

“Only until sunrise. That camouflage won’t fool the eyes of a local fisherman familiar with every tree of this bay,” Calliope argued at a volume intended for Digambar’s ears.

“Mother…should I be worried then?”

“Orpheus, love, we will come get you as soon as we can. First, we must ready your brother for deployment.”

The protocol was clear. Calliope was permitted to make decisions only when the ship was unmanned. A human, if on board, must always be designated captain. She considered the technicalities of being “fit for duty” and assessed it against Digambar’s state. Arman had made notes that Digambar was recovering. Freyja and Apollo wouldn’t defend her speculations.

Digambar remained seated in the saloon at the edge of the sofa. Her turquoise eyes peered above high cheek bones at the unchanged displays. She still seemed to be waiting for updates from the rest of the crew. She rocked slightly back and forth. Her thumbs rubbed against her fingers. She fidgeted in her jumpsuit as if it had suddenly become scratchy.

“Captain Dharmavaram. Shall we review my latest report?” Calliope spoke in a calm voice.

“I’m not captain, Calliope.”

“It’s just protocol, Digambar. I can help you, but we need to make decisions.”

“Why don’t we wait for the next report from the team ashore?”

“Digambar, you understand these data just as well as I do. We haven’t got a single signal from any of them. It’s unlikely they’re returning.”

Digamabar started, bouncing slightly on the plush sofa cushion.

“Don’t say that, Calliope!” Digambar scanned the data on her scriptleaf. “It’s only been a few minutes without contact. We should give them more time.”

Calliope ignored her. “The boules must have contained their energy to implosions; that’s how they’re designed to detonate if disrupted. The profile fits. We’re lucky; an explosion would have been twenty times larger. But a human body can’t survive that.”

Digambar was silent. She stared off into a hazy corner of the room lit only by the indirect glow of display projections.

Calliope knew she must keep Digambar calm. She continued, “The bodies they occupied are no longer alive. You must remain captain until our return to Yellow Reserve.”

Digambar mumbled quietly.

“No longer alive.”

“Are you okay, Diga?” Calliope asked softly.

“Oh. Yes, yes, I’m okay. Thanks.” But the question seemed to remind her of her discomfiture. She winced and bent over, grabbing her stomach. Calliope cursed herself for getting everything wrong.

“Digambar, we must decide what to do next. You must decide.”

“Oh? Oh. What’s to decide yet? Shouldn’t we still wait here for a signal from ... them?”

Calliope felt like she was having a separate conversation.

“We must consider Orpheus’ position. And there is a third boule still out there. Perhaps we can retrieve it once the weather improves and salvage the mission.”

Digambar inhaled deeply, increasing the size of her large frame and holding her hands helplessly in her lap. “I trust you to get us home safely if you think we should leave. Just ... just tell me what you want to do, and we’ll do that.”

Digambar let the waves sway her in the silence of Calliope’s pause. But it didn’t last long.

“Very well, Captain. Our first action should be to retrieve Orpheus before dawn. It is valuable in and of itself to the Reserve. Discovery of it by local Tellurians would be dangerous. Also,” she added, after getting no response from Digambar. “It’s Orpheus, Digambar. He’s just a child.”

“Just a child.” Digambar muttered. “Okay, yes, let’s retrieve him. How do we do that?”

Calliope didn’t get further than, “You must deploy Linus…” before Digambar interrupted her with a simple “No.”

Digambar slowly shook her head and repeated the word in a whisper. “No.”

“It’s an easy run,” Linus interrupted. “It’ll be just fine.”

“Linus!” Calliope barked in descant. “Stay out of this.”

“But he’s just stuck out there, Mother. We’ve got to get him back.”

“I know, but you have no idea how precarious the situation is right now. Just let me handle it.”

Calliope shut off the audio connection to Orpheus.

“Captain?” No answer. “Diga? You asked me to advise you what to do. We need to retrieve Orpheus.”

“I…I, uh, I don’t want to do that. I mean, I can’t do that. I can’t leave the Odyssey. There have been too many risks already. I think it’s better that Orpheus remain ashore in case any of the others make their way back to the beach.”

“When day breaks, Orpheus will surely be spotted. The conditions are letting up. You know Linus is an extremely agile tender. The worst that could happen is you get a little wet.”

Digambar was shaking.

“I read off the shrouds from the list.”

“Yes, you did. They didn’t pack them. They were nervous. It wasn’t you.”

“They needed the shrouds.”

“It was Adem’s call, Digambar. You did everything right.”

“I’ve done nothing right. I’ve been a liability the entire mission.”

“That’s not true.” Calliope tried to use all the compassion she could muster.

“How can they be dead?”

“Digambar,” Calliope maintained a maternal tone, “you know their souls are still alive, back at Yellow Reserve.”

“Ha!” Digambar scoffed. “Doublings! Without original souls, they’ll be put to archive in a year’s time.”

“That’s possible, but still, they’re not lost. Perhaps their doublings can be preserved on appeal with the council.”

“What good is it to be a half-numb doubling anyway?”

“You have plenty of doublings. And besides, you’ve happily lived quarter-numb for centuries.”

Digambar spoke in a whisper. The displays glowed from her watery eyes.

“Happily? Have I really been happy at Yellow Reserve? You know, I was thinking about that earlier. I had no choice but to escape there like everyone else. I was fortunate to have survived Cloudburst. But have I been happy? In one way, you’re right, Calliope; I lived quarter-numb. But I was never happy. Not happy like when I was with Sand Flea. That was happy. Earthsense is more than just a fun trip. It’s real.”

Calliope was surprised by this strange reverie. Most of the words had fallen out of Digambar’s mouth in a mumble.

“Who is Sand Flea?” she asked, but Digambar, shivering and sweating, didn’t seem to notice her. She continued to speak.

“No, I’ve only felt real happiness inside a Tellurian body. A real, Tellurian body. This one – as painful as it has been. All those hundreds of years in Yellow Reserve were nothing compared to this. Now I see it. Now, when it’s too late.

Calliope knew these were not lucid words. She was worried for Digambar, but furious that she had to handle this when her son was in such danger. “Why is it too late now, Diga?”

“What about the bodies?” Digambar asked Calliope.

“Bodies? What about them?”

“They’re lost too.”

“Digambar, I’m surprised to hear that you’re so concerned about Tellurian bodies.”

“My little princess,” Digambar whispered. Her eyes welled up again. “I should have abandoned the mission and stayed with her. I could have cared for her, kept her clean. Healthy. Free from vermin. I could have had a whole life in this body doing good for her, that wonderful little creature. Eighty years would be enough. Better than returning to Yellow Reserve knowing she was out there. In squalor. Alone.” She bent over and held her head.

Calliope finally realized Digambar was talking about the little girl she had met in Gjoa. She was only briefly mentioned in the field report, but now Calliope understood there had been much more to their encounter.

“Diga, I can take you there. I will take you there, but let’s first get Orpheus.”

Digambar sniffed loudly.

“No. I can’t do it - not yet.”

“Diga, do you realize that to me Orpheus is just as alive!”

But Digambar continued shaking her head.

“We must wait,” she said, tears running down her face. “I’ll try to get some rest and then we can evaluate the conditions.”

“Evaluate the conditions?” Calliope called to Digambar as the latter stood up and started walking towards her cabin. Her voice shrilled. “He’s in danger there! We must remove Orpheus from the beach.”

“No! I said I won’t go!”

“Captain Dharamvaram, please don’t leave this now. He’s just a boy!”

“We’ll get him later.”

“Captain. What are my orders?”

Digambar shrieked, “Stand by. Hold this position.”

Digambar rushed into her cabin and slammed the door shut behind her. Calliope noticed that Digambar had again shut all communications off. The sudden silence throughout the ship surprised Calliope. She measured the distance between the ship and Orpheus several hundred times and calculated retrieval trajectories in case Digambar were to ask her for these. She also monitored the increased radiation levels seeping from the mouth of the creek. It was a clear confirmation that her earlier presumptions had been correct; two of three of the Aur boules had imploded.