The Last Starry Night

Azzie woke up very suddenly. She thought she heard a scratching noise, but it stopped suddenly. Everyone else was asleep. Outside the big window it was very dark. It must be night outside.

Azzie remembered that she was on a sky sheet, not a planet. The sun simply hung over the sheet, always in the same spot. How could it ever be night?

She got up and quietly went over to the window, trying to peer out. She could just see the dim shapes of the towering trees; that was all.

A powerful curiosity came over her. She wanted to see how it could be night. She wanted to find the source of the noise that had awakened her. She wanted to see the alien jungle at night.

But there was something else too. She realized that going out into the jungle alone would be very dangerous, but for many hours she had been desperately running from danger. She felt like it was time to show some courage, just to prove to herself that she was still in control of some part of her life.

She picked up a nullpistol in a niche in the wall. She supposed it made sense for a species called “the Warriors” to have plenty of guns on their ships. She wasn’t sure how well she could use it, but she took it anyway, and crept over to the great dome window. She would just step out for a few minutes, she told herself. She’d poke around a little, and try to catch a glimpse of the sky, to see what had happened to the sun.

She went through the airlock, felt the familiar tingle on her skin, and stepped into the hot, sweet jungle.

It was dark, terribly dark, but the walls of their ship were still glowing softly, casting a sickly yellow light. She looked up and saw only the canopy of leaves above her.

Instead of being filled with alien animal noises, as she had expected, the jungle was unnaturally quiet. She heard only a steady dripping of water from leaves to the jungle floor, like a gentle rain. A breeze twisted its way through the trees and tossed her hair; it felt wonderful.

She walked around the ship, thinking she might find the source of the scratching noise that had wakened her. The ship was smaller than her apartment in Alabama. It didn’t take more than half a minute to get around to the other side. She looked around carefully, and listened as hard as she could, but there was no noise other than the dripping leaves.

She began to wonder more about the lack of sunlight. It occurred to her that she might get a better view of the sky from the riverbank. It would only be a few minutes’ walk, and she would have the light of the ship to guide her back.

She struck off in the direction she remembered the river to be, plunging into almost pitch darkness, tripping occasionally over tree roots and stinging her hands on acidic leaves. Every few paces she turned around to make sure she could still see the ship behind her.

Soon she saw something up ahead – not a light, but a region somewhat less black. She slowed down -- she did not want to step into the river in the dark. But when she came to the riverbank she found that she could see quite easily. The river was glowing like dusty silver under the light of the distant lace-work of galaxies, and the far bank was a strip of black between the silver river and the delicate swirls in the sky. The sun was up there, too: it hadn’t moved. But it was a dim, paper-thin ring of gold. It looked like a picture Azzie had seen of a solar eclipse. Was it an eclipse? Did the sky sheet have a moon of some sort?

Suddenly she heard it again: a soft scratching, from behind her. Her skin crawled. She turned, but could see nothing but the dim light of the ship far off through the trees.

All of Azzie’s curiosity and courage disappeared, and was replaced with raw fear. How could she have been so stupid as to come out here alone? What was she thinking? Who knew what kind of deadly creatures might stalk this jungle at night?

“What’s that?” she whispered. She held the null pistol in front of her; the weight of it was comforting in her hand.

There was a loud hissing, and a soft noise as of a large creature brushing leaves in the blackness before her.

A Warrior! It had to be. Azzie’s hot panic turned to cold fear. “Stop!” said Azzie. “Stay back. I have a gun.”

Now she heard hissing again, this time from somewhere over on her right. And an answering hiss from in front of her again. Two Warriors. At least.

Azzie squeezed the trigger of the nullpistol and swept it back and forth in front of her. She heard sharp screeches, and then suddenly something large leaped at her, slammed into her, and hurled her back into a bush. The pistol was knocked from her hand.

Then, just as suddenly, the Warrior moved back a few paces into the jungle. Azzie got up unsteadily, wondering if she should take her chances by jumping into the river. But the creature could have killed her just now, and didn’t.

“Azalea Jade Griffin,” said one of the Warriors. Its voice was a gravelly whisper.

Azzie gasped. “How do you know my name?” she asked.

“We have been looking for you,” said the other Warrior, in the same whispering hiss. “We have a message for you.”

“What? What message?” she asked. “Who are you?”

Azzie heard the Warrior on the left step towards her. She hastily backed away, and felt one foot slip into the hot river water. She pulled out her foot again. The Warrior came closer, and now she could see its face in the dim light of the scattered galaxies, its bald reptilian scales glinting.

“The message,” said the Warrior, “is that your family is safe. Your mother and brother are waiting for you in a ship orbiting the sky sheet’s sun. Your grandmother is safe as well. Her friend is hurt, but recovering.”

Azzie’s mind reeled. “What? On a ship? Waiting for me? How – how do you know?”

“We don’t have time to explain now,” said the Warrior. “We have information that an agent of the Controllers is trailing you.”

“Controllers? Who are they?”

“Allies of the Warriors. We must get you off the sky sheet.”

“I don’t understand,” said Azzie.

“That’s ok,” said the Warrior. It was odd to hear it speak English so casually, as if it had grown up hearing it. In fact, she thought she heard a trace of a southern accent. “You simply have to trust us. We’ll help you. You will fly with us back to our ship, and we’ll explain everything then.”

“Why should I trust you?” asked Azzie.

“Your mother sent this with us,” said the Warrior. It was holding something in its claws, something small and delicate. Azzie couldn’t make it out in the dim light. She hesitated.

“Take it,” said the Warrior. “It is a flower.”

Azzie reached up and took it. It was a lotus blossom. The familiar scent, cutting through the strange alien jungle smells, carried her instantly back to her apartment, and the flowerpot that Mama had knocked over while trying to grab her father’s bear away from her.

Suddenly Azzie was crying. All the wild insanity of the past hours finally caught up with her, and she collapsed, sobbing, clinging to the flower like it was a precious shred of sanity.

Perhaps a minute went by. Then Gwen’s voice called desperately out of the darkness: “What have you done to her?”

Azzie looked up. She still could hardly see anything, but now she could hear the unmistakable sound of humans crashing through undergrowth. The Warriors turned to face them.

“I’m ok,” Azzie called out. “These are friends.”

“How do you know?” asked Trocmo. “What are they?”

“They’re Warriors,” said Azzie. “But they’re friends.”

“Friends?” said Srini. “What do you mean?”

“They’ve brought a message,” said Azzie. “They say my family is okay.”

“That’s great,” said Gwen. “But I think we’d all be a lot more comfortable talking about this back at the ship, in the light. How about you friends come with us quietly, all right? And just in case you’re not as friendly as Azzie says, I’ve got a nullpistol here.”

And the Warriors suffered themselves to be led quietly back to the ship, while Azzie whispered her story to Trocmo and Srini.

***

There were four Warriors, sitting in the couches in the ship’s command center. Gwen stood near them, pointing her gun at them. The Warriors had surrendered their nullpistols without protest. “We don’t have much time,” said the Warrior. “We must convince you to trust us. We must get up to the ship as soon as possible.”

“Why?” demanded Gwen.

“To stop the invasion of Earth.”

“Why do you want to stop the invasion? You’re Warriors.”

“We grew up on Earth,” said the Warrior. “We understand the pain and difficulty that the invasion is causing. You must trust us. We must get to the ship quickly.”

“How did you grow up on Earth?” said Srini. “The invasion just started, what, a day ago?”

“Yes,” said the Warrior. “We are a little over a day old. Please, we must get to the ship quickly.”

“A day old?” cried Srini.

“Please,” said Azzie. “I trust them.”

Srini and Gwen looked doubtful.

“They said the flower came from my mother,” said Azzie. “I believe them.”

“What about you, Taco?” asked Gwen.

“I don’t trust them,” said Trocmo. “All of the Warriors are united behind the invasion.”

“Why are you asking him?” demanded Azzie. “He’s on the Warriors’ side! He said so himself. If he doesn’t trust them, then maybe we should!”

Gwen nodded. “Okay, Azzie. If you trust them, then so do I.”

Srini still looked troubled. She said, “I don’t know why we should trust anybody. Not Trocmo, and not these Warriors. How can they be a day old? They have to be lying about that.”

“It’s a strange thing to lie about,” said Gwen.

“We’re not lying,” said the Warrior. “Our species’ life cycle is three days. One day as children, one day to find mates, one day to raise our children. But we don’t have time for all this discussion. Please trust us.”

Srini bit her lip, and nodded. “All right. I’m with you.”

“Where’s Taco?” said Gwen.

They looked around. He had disappeared.

“He went down the central passage of the ship,” said one of the Warriors.

“To the engines,” said Srini. “I'll bet he suspects these Warriors want to use this ship to get back into orbit. He’s sabotaging the engines so that we can’t do that.”

“Are you sure?” said Gwen.

“Nope. But why else would he sneak away?”

Gwen growled and jumped down into the central passage.

The Warrior said, “We think Trocmo is the agent of the Controllers that we told you about. The Controllers were among the chief architects of the invasion.”

The ship shuddered. There was a terrible sound of metals wrenching and snapping, and the floor lurched. They heard Gwen scream from somewhere below.

“We should go,” said a Warrior.

“Not without Gwen,” said Azzie and Srini together. Azzie stepped toward the central passage. At that moment, Gwen appeared, jumping out of the passage and running towards the great window. “Run!” she cried, and threw herself headlong through the force field. Azzie, Srini, and the Warriors followed. They fell among the jungle undergrowth, rolling over and through the bramble. Azzie ducked her head under her arms. There was a screech of twisted metal, and then cracking and splintering of wood, and the light from the ship went out. Then there was only silence.

“The little twit broke something that locked the ship onto its rails,” said Gwen from the darkness. “It fell off.”

“The ship will be useless now,” said one of the Warriors. “We will have to take you to our ship.”

“Is that far?” asked Srini.

“It’s far,” said the Warrior. “Several hours of flying.”

“Flying how?” asked Gwen.

“Follow us,” said the Warrior. “Our flying machine is a few hundred yards away.”

As they trailed after the sounds of the Warriors pushing through the undergrowth, Srini said to Azzie, “I wonder if Trocmo is following us.”

“He might be,” said Gwen. “When I got to the locking mechanism, he had already skipped out. But he can’t do anything to us. We’ve got four Warriors with us.”

“And you,” said Azzie. Gwen laughed.

“He might tell his friends,” said Srini. “The Controllers, whoever they are.”

“There’s so much going on I don’t understand,” said Azzie.

“When we get to the ship, we’ll explain everything,” said the nearest Warrior.

After what seemed to be forever, they came out into an opening in the trees, where small fern-like plants covered the ground, and dim swirls of galaxies were visible above. Also, hanging in the sky in exactly the same spot as before, was the sun, still a paper-thin ring of gold.

“What happened to the sun?” asked Srini.

“It’s a nullshield,” said one of the Warriors. “The Warriors have made a hole in space, a sheet of nothingness, which they hung between the sun and the sky sheet. It casts a shadow on the sky sheet to make night-time.”

“What’s that?” asked Gwen, pointing to the middle of the clearing.

In the dim light from the stars and the golden ring, they could see a strange machine. It was a large cone with a propeller mounted on the top, like a helicopter. But the blades looked too stubby and short to lift much.

“That is our flying machine.”

They went over to it. The cone was about the size of a car, and the blades of the propeller at the top were no longer than one of Azzie’s arms. There were two long bars attached on either side of the cone, running top to bottom.

“There’s no way that can fly,” said Srini.

“Of course it doesn’t fly,” said a Warrior. It was opening a door in the side of the machine, and poking in its claws. “It makes Warriors fly faster. The machine needs to warm up for a few minutes. In the meantime, we should make some harnesses for you.”

“Harnesses?” asked Azzie.

“Yes. To attach you to the flying machine. Humans can’t fly by themselves, right?”

“Right,” said Srini uncertainly.

“Then you must hang from the flying machine. Come on, we will gather some vines from the jungle.”

“Hang?” said Azzie.

“I’m sorry,” said Srini. “I really don’t do that sort of thing. Hanging from flying machines is definitely not something I like to do.”

“Oh, come on, you big baby,” said Gwen, grinning. “The Warriors wouldn’t be having us do this if it wasn’t safe.” She followed the Warriors towards the edge of the clearing.

“Azzie?” asked Srini. “Are we really going to do this?”

“Well,” said Azzie, “we don’t have any other plan.”

Azzie wasn’t any too sure of the plan herself, but she followed the rest as they went over to the jungle. The Warriors found some vines that were tremendously thick and strong, and began twisting and weaving them into basket-like forms. They fitted one on Gwen, and it cradled her snugly.

“Very good,” they said. “These will be very good.”

They finished the harnesses and brought them back to the machine. They tied the harnesses to one of the bars on the large cone. The girls all put them on. Azzie found the vines, which were three inches thick in places, very tight. The Warriors got into harnesses themselves; these seemed to be made of leather with adjustable metal buckles. They attached their four harnesses to the bar on the other side of the cone.

“How long will the flight be?” asked Azzie.

“Six or seven hours,” a Warrior.

“All ready,” said another Warrior.

“Very good,” said a third. “Everyone else ready?”

“Ready,” they all said, except Srini, who just cleared her throat and swallowed. Azzie couldn’t see her expression in the darkness.

“Very good,” said the Warrior. “I will start the machine.”

It flipped a switch in the side of the cone. There was a hiss and a smell of steam and hot metal. The propeller began to turn, slowly at first, and then faster and faster, making a thump thump thump noise.

“Breathe!” cried a Warrior.

The four Warriors stood back from the machine and opened their huge mouths wide, so wide they had to close their eyes. To Azzie’s amazement, she saw their bodies begin to expand. Their limp folds of skin swelled and puffed out, stretching like balloons. Before long, they were like huge beach balls with small, silly-looking arms, legs, head and tail sticking out. Then they began to rise into the air.

“How do they do that?” cried Gwen. Azzie could just hear her over the noise of the propeller.

“Maybe they’re like balloons,” shouted Srini. “They breathe in air, and the heat of their bodies warms up the air inside. Then they rise like hot air balloons!”

The Warriors’ mouths were still wide open, breathing in. They rose maybe twenty feet, black circles against the stars, and then they pulled the propeller off the ground. Attached to the Warriors by their harnesses, it lifted slowly, and tilted so that the propeller pointed sideways. The force of the propeller pulled the machine away, towards the river. As the Warriors kept rising, pulling the propeller higher, Azzie felt a tug on her harness. She grabbed the vines in panic, and then was jolted hard as the machine yanked her into the air. She couldn’t help it -- she screamed as the harness swung her around, just a few feet above the clearing, and then up, up, over the trees, like a ball on a string. She swung in wide circles, back and forth, and screamed until she ran out of breath.

Then she could only gasp, as the strange flying machine pulled her along high in the air over the alien jungle.