“Hearts and Stars: a moment of tranquility”
We’ve been here for two days now. It’s hopeless. Don’t get me wrong—I fully believe that we’ll find our friends again, or at least be rescued—it’s just that while we’re waiting for that to happen, things seem hopeless. There’s very little food or water—we’ve had to wander great distances to find any—and let’s face it, we couldn’t build a decent shelter even if we had a million years. I wouldn’t actually complain about that last one, but it rained yesterday, and not just a soft sprinkle or a gentle drip here and there, but a full blast of pouring, sopping, drenching, fat curtains of water, splashing and drowning us, with the wind lashing it everywhere, making our crude attempts to cover ourselves useless. It went on and on into the night, and we fought with the elements, and each other, just to build something that could keep us dry for a few hours.
Sleep was awful: we had wet clothes, no blankets or fire, and the ground was soggy and muddy (at least we didn’t have to worry about predators. No sane person would be out in this). The shelter wasn’t exactly stable, either, and I remember being forced awake by the incessant rain, or my agitated companions, so we could fix it and hope it stayed up this time. I think Herut and Eve were ready to quit after the fifth attempt (I gave up after the second), and we just made do with what we had until the storm passed. I didn’t sleep at all that night; I think I just laid on the ground, wincing as a few stray drops punctured my face, weary beyond belief—or relief. The weather improved once morning came, but we were soaked all the way down to our bones, and our shoddy camp was a wreck. At least we didn’t have to worry about water for awhile.
I wasn’t that bothered by nature’s foul mood, to be honest. As long as it wasn’t freezing or burning, I could live through it so long as my other three “castaways” were there with me. The thing that bothered me the most was that I had lost my canvas and my artwork tools during the confusion that sent us hurling to this godforsaken rock, and I really wanted to pain this world; my brother Allen would’ve loved it. Even while it was pouring down rain, this planet had a special beauty to it that I wanted to capture: the endless grasslands, green and gold like the fur of a benevolent animal, vast forests in one direction and open wilderness in another, mountains that sang to us in the morning and hummed quietly at night, animals of all kinds who visited us (a couple of rabbits actually approached us, and we got to feed them!), and of course, the mesmerizing sunrises and sunsets, and the brilliant splash of stars spread across the dark sky—oh, there were so many of them! Even when I had been in my room aboard the Dauntless, I had never seen the night sky in such glory or splendor. It was torture to sit there without my equipment; I didn’t even trust my prodigious memory to keep such treasures.
But I found ways. There was nothing on that world even remotely close to paper, so I used the light side of a few leaves as my canvas, or sometimes I’d choose a smooth, flat stone to paint on, or I’d douse the vast countryside in pigments—and once, Mink even volunteered to be a living easel, and I colored her wildly with the life of our strange new home. I had plenty of resources when it came to choosing colors: ash and soot from the fire, burnt sticks, ground-up rocks (Eve crushed them with her mechanical feet), sap, chlorophyll, berries, fungi, various fruits and flowers we found, even our own blood (we certainly had our fair share of scrapes. I’m sure Fuuka would’ve been infuriated at what we were doing, but this was ART!). Whenever I wasn’t busy trying to figure out how to build a new shelter, or plant and harvest food properly (I was elected “group leader”), I kept myself occupied with my life’s purpose.
I did more than paint and sketch; I thought about my relationship with my fellow crewmates, specifically Herut and Mink. Obviously there are many more besides those two,
but…I feel a strong kinship towards them. Herut is a short, simple, single-minded girl around my own age, incredibly mature and intelligent, perhaps a little cold at times, but willing to explore what the outside worlds have to offer. Society has seen her as nothing more than a repair and maintenance unit for all her life—closer to a mechanized toolbox than a real person—and while it might be arrogant of me to say that I know her better than that, I feel that we can understand each other very well, and have grown close thanks to our unusual compatibility. I’ve always hated being so small; people still mistake me as a twelve year-old, even though I’m nineteen years old (and will turn twenty in a few months), and they’re surprised when I start talking like an Ares Academy graduate—but Herut is almost the same size as me, and she’s one of the most brilliant and…I will go ahead and say it…one of the warmest people I’ve known. I had hoped the two of us could be friends the moment I first saw her, but now that we’ve reached that stage…
I’ve never kissed anyone like that before. It was inexperienced and clumsy, but very special and sweet, sort of like the last hours of school before summer vacation starts. She told me she had been merely curious, but I was willing to go along with her, because in all honesty, I truly cared for Herut and wanted to find out if it was in…that way. I don’t think it’s fair to reach a conclusion just yet—we haven’t had any time to ourselves since we finished that race—but I would like to see where this path takes us, whether or not I’m really in love with my best friend or merely just overly fond of her. Regardless, I want to paint her image across the grass, so that all the world will know of my inspiration.
I have these doubts because there’s Mink, too. It’s strange to think that we might have a connection because she doesn’t look down on me like a kid--I mean, she looks down on me, but she can’t help being that tall!--or that there might be something between us simply because she stares longingly at all my artwork. I learned a little bit about the Yun race since our sojourn began, and while they’re not very emotional people, they do love to sit and bask in whatever radiant beauty is surrounding them. I can’t tell for certain if the Yun see people like that as well, but they are certainly the most relaxed and “at home” in a quiet, somewhat secluded area, suffused only with the sound of the natural world, devoted to their thoughts and what may come their way during this meditation. The Yun are not creative people (their aversion to complex devices or even works of art borders on the religious), because they believe an unnatural reproduction of anything will kill the parent--but Mink seems to like my art, and the artist as well.
Is it wicked of me to feel the spark of passion for two people? To be understood on an intellectual level on one side, and an artistic level on another…it’s possibly the only real example of “duality” I’ve ever seen. This pleasant, wonderful, yet distressing sensation of ambivalence has made my recent days more complicated than I’m accustomed to. I can’t confide with one for fear of hurting the other, and as unbiased as Eve is, she’s made it very clear that she is not an authority on these matters. I will have to reach a conclusion, or at least a compromise, by myself.
……
My friends said that making the shelter was the hardest part of surviving out here, but I’d have to disagree. I am used to this sort of thing, after all, since Master Vimmy asks me to
perform much more menial tasks. Since I know very little about actually constructing a shelter, I had to rely on Shana’s ideas, which always seemed to be improving no matter how many mistakes we make. She’s such a patient, sweet young woman. She’s very special to me. I like her. It was a little difficult for Eve and Herut to understand the concept, since their minds were usually on machines--but I since learned, after sharing an inhospitable night with them, that they are made of much other components.
Since it was such a merciless downpour, we decided to take our clothes off and let them dry in the sun. There was no such thing as civilization on this world, and with our friends scattered (possibly), we have all the privacy we could want. I’m not particularly bashful about revealing my body in front of others, and neither was Herut: it was as elementary an action as tightening a bolt or removing a spark plug (yes, I am getting the hang of her terminology! Slowly but surely!). Shana was a little shier, but her face lit up and her eyes began to sparkle as she undressed. This was something fun, forbidden, and even feral for her. We were removing ourselves from the civilized women we were before landing on this world, and turning into gay maenads, free from restraint and judgment, our beauty as deep and inalienable as the earth, our voices songs, our souls bared. I sat on a small carpet of moss, drawing my knees up, as I watched Shana and Herut playing, a tranquil smile on my face. They were such beautiful people; I felt strong love for them both.
Shana I knew and loved well enough thanks to her portrayal of worlds and beings, and for once, I knew no sin as I looked upon art. Her mere presence pleased me, and I always wondered what treasure she would unveil for me next. Herut, I admit, was not as close to my heart as Shana, probably because, when you get right down to it, the two of us are so alike, and it is my experience that living beings are rarely attracted to those who share too many qualities they possess. We were all engineered to find attraction in the unusual, the different, the alien; we are not all clones, and thankfully, we are not forced to live on a world where there is more than one “me”. I wanted to love Herut, but we were both so young, just recently breaking free from that which is familiar, blinking as we step into the light of the outside, wondering what lies in store for us, cautious and yet eager for the journey.
Eve is another matter entirely. She is not young like the rest of us; she has seen many worlds, and knows great pain, and is harder and wiser for her experiences. Her eyes remind me of a dying fire, smothered by its own ashes, still holding a few stubborn embers in its weary arms. Of the few moments that Eve and I shared in privacy (prior to this one, I mean), I was given fleeting glimpses of her heart, and though I wouldn’t dare to say I understood even these slivers, I can certainly observe their harsh beauty and gently coax it out into a bloom. I’ve heard her say her childhood was dark and troublesome; she became a rebel and was expelled from her family, disgusted by paternal ideology. I admire her drive to strike out on a new path, rather than follow the family cycle, and through her cynicism and misanthropy, I know there is a strong yearning to be a part of the Living Fabric; she just needs to keep searching for the common thread.
Eve and I actually spoke fairly often as we laid basking in the sun. I silently studied her artificial legs, and was given permission to touch them, and ask how they came into being. Eve described her “fall from grace” (as she worded it), and made mention of a mechanized “friend” of hers she had left behind. I pressed the issue, wondering what her life had been like before turning sour, but she did not answer me--she just sighed, leaned back, and stared into the sky. Her expression said enough: she had been heartbroken to leave, and she yearned more than anything to return one day. I scooted over and took her hand, smiling softly.
“That’s what the Dauntless is for,” I said. She nodded her head, grinned sadly, and laid down on the grass, naked and strikingly beautiful, an image of vulnerability and innocence I could not help but love. Yes, Eve, I loved you too--and yes, Shana, to answer your question, I can see people the same way I see the world. But it’s different. Worlds are, for the most part, in a constant state, and do not change for the most part, except through calamity or revolution. But people are as shifty as the wind, gentle and sweet one moment and fierce in the next. Their souls vibrate in different colors; they are an anomaly, albeit a welcome anomaly, and I can judge them by the beauty they radiate. I think Dr. Miracle has this same power; we can see things for what they can be, not just what they are.
But I digress. By the time we made a suitable shelter (it was easier to do without the rain, and more fun in the nude), our clothes were dry and we could return to our old lives. But something had changed during those hours of rest, something that irrevocably transformed us from “something” into “something else”. That is how I interpreted it, anyway, for I honestly fell in love during the time we spent together--but with who, ah, is a secret I shan’t tell, not even to Master Vimmy. I do hope that hyperactive little troll is okay. Lately, I’ve been thinking about retiring from my service and striking out on my own, if this voyage of ours ever comes to an end…
……
What a pain that shelter was! And sleeping outside in the rain? Ugh! No thanks! Never again! The damned thing fell over so many times that it would’ve been better if we had hidden under a tree! And of course, we only got it to stay up when we didn’t NEED it! Whew…I certainly have a lot to complain about, not that anybody could blame me. If you were thrown out of your bed in the middle of the night by a crazed genie, slammed into a remote world without so much as a flicker of technology to it--or even intelligent life--and forced to survive on “wits and will” alone, you’d be pretty crank as well. But let’s not forget the most pressing issue here: I would gladly suffer through all this and more if it helped unravel the mystery surrounding this “Origin” entity.
I know that Shana and I tried cracking this case earlier, but it didn’t really lead anywhere. I had asked Dr. Miracle if her friend Kyle really had a foolproof way of getting people to tell the truth, and she confirmed it quite adamantly. Whatever that deranged Pyrosian said, or meant, it was certainly the truth, but what could it mean? “Origin” had always meant “the beginning” to me, or something to that effect. Perhaps it was just another big-shot who liked giving himself a cool-sounding name, like Apex or Mastermind, or (corniest of them all) Harbinger of Doom. But just because Shana and I are also very scientific, we asked around the ship and did some research, or at least as much as we could before this whole mess started. For all our efforts, we didn’t discover anything new. I tried bringing it up again, but by that time, I was told to remove my clothes and bask in the sun. Fine, fine…
I’ve never been nude just for the sake of being. Come to think of it, the only time I really take all my clothes off is when I shower. I usually sleep in whatever I have on at the time, and I’ve never needed to go swimming before. Chandra prances around the ship naked all the time, and I despise this shameless display, so I wanted to keep myself removed from this as much as possible. But recently I’ve learned that there’s an innocent and even playful side to nudity--a
very invigorating, sensual, liberating sense of unity you get. Now I’m not condoning its use every day; in fact, the less it’s done, the better the sensation is. Shana encouraged me to go play with her, and I found myself going along, bare feet trampling over the grass, my naked, childish chest heaving as we sprinted (unlike her, I don’t mind my size, as it’s led me through several tight passages), my mechanical attention to duty competing against my childish impulse towards play--
And both coming against a very unexpected sexual side.
As we held hands and ran, waiting for our clothes to dry, I did come to realize that Herut the maintenance and repair unit has a sexual side. For awhile now, I wondered if I was even completely human, but now I have my answer. I hate Chandra for her inability to observe boundaries, but at least now I can forgive her for kidnapping me and “ruining” my old life. I never would’ve understood my humanity if she hadn’t pulled me away from that garage. I hate her for being such a whore, but as my world unveils itself, little by little, I can understand more of my own sensuality. I’m not merely a “living toolbox”; I’m a young lady as well, complete with hormones and emotions that are all my own; nobody could’ve imprinted them on my psyche.
But I had to control myself. Shana’s nudity was giving off its own illuminating eroticism, and as enflamed as I was, she was only making things accelerate. I was given an epiphany, a look into Chandra’s mind, and even though I promised myself that, if I ever engaged in any sexual relation, it would only be with the one I loved, I could understand a little bit of her desires; I could see the world through her eyes. I did despise her--but not for the sexuality; only its overabundance. Clumsy as my thoughts and emotions were, I felt the need to make love to this nymph dancing before me, a feeling that was as alien to me as the understanding of an engine was as alien to Chandra. Shana saved me from this terrible fate by dragging me back to the camp, where we all worked together to complete the shelter, and put our clothes back on. Whew!
“So about Origin,” I muttered, attempting to focus on more important matters. Shana smiled and even kissed my cheek, a sign of affection still new to me, as new as sex itself, only sweeter and easier to understand.
“Are you always thinking about silly things? Look, there’s not much we can do about it right now, so why don’t we enjoy ourselves? It’s not often we’re given so much time apart from the group. I’ve been meaning to spend more time with you and Mink anyway, so why not make the best of it?” Eve snorted and put her hands atop her head.
“I would be offended that you excluded me, but who’d want to be part of the kid’s table, anyway?”
“We’re not kids,” Shana snorted. Eve grinned and ruffled her hair.
“Well, you’re both really short, and Mink’s about as childish as they come, so I’m right.”
“Oh, please,” I balked, “we’re all mature adults. Shana and I can’t help the way we look.”
“That’s right!” she defended. “And if you’d just talk to Mink for five minutes…”
“Okay, okay, sheesh! I was kidding anyway! You’re all fully-grown mature women--happy?”
“Much,” Shana beamed. Mink’s smile was considerably smaller, but it was pure and wholesome; it brought out the light in all of us.
……
I didn’t know what Herut was bitching about: this “disaster” has been one of the best things that could’ve happened to me. I’ve been pulled out of my dull, complacent, comfortable lifestyle, and thrown into a world where I was forced to look at the broader perspective. There were no machines, robots, or repairs here, just the rudimentary need for survival, and the ironic desire to find our missing companions. All my life, I’ve felt alone, lost and isolated, cut off from humanity one piece at a time; my limbs and my eye are proof of this. I’ve found more solace in machines than my fellow man, and I believed, and even accepted, that I would be in this state all my life.
Not that anybody could blame me. Growing up with my isolationist senator of a father and my frosty, distant stepmother, I’ve been saturated with the idea that everything else is inferior, and has no place in proper society. But I’ve also broken away from all that, rebelling so perfectly that I was disowned and cut off from my old life—a small step towards freedom and the recovery of my humanity. I made my way over to Hallow’s Point and found the closest place to home I’ve ever known. Carly and her family took me in without hesitation, and as cantankerous as the old battle-axe was, I know she loved me; I’ll always be grateful to her for that, and for teaching me how to survive on my own.
Of course, now that this was on my mind, I thought about what the Director said to me. I don’t think she had any reason to lie, but she’s got to have her facts wrong. Sure, Carly’s like a mother to me, but there’s not much resemblance, and I certainly didn’t inherit her miraculous mechanical skills: I had to learn them through years of hard work and disappointments. And wouldn’t she have said anything if it were true? Astor must’ve meant somebody else. I don’t have a family—not anymore. I guess it wouldn’t be right to say I’m all by myself now, though: I’ve got all these crazy women for company, and some, I’ll admit, are pretty great to be around. I’m not used to crowds or foreigners, but I am adjusting; I’ve grown a lot since this voyage began. I’ve even fallen in love, I think.
Ugh, I don’t want to think about the Jackal. That’s a subject I’d rather not touch upon! I mean, of course she’s beautiful, mysterious, and exciting, but I feel like I just can’t trust her. She’s so secretive, and she’s far too attracted to me. When I had sex with Chandra and that prostitute, I knew what I was getting into, that they didn’t really love me; they were just in it for the sex (and the money). Quincy sprinkles devotion and sweet poetic nothings on me, and while I always give in to my desires, it doesn’t feel like there can be anything more. She’s not particularly evil, but she’s certainly not a good person either. I need someone more stable, but when is that ever going to happen? Oh well. Better focus on something else before I get too bitter again.
Mink will still talk with me, though, even if I get nasty. I really appreciate that. Maybe that’s my answer…but what kind of person makes an advance when there are more important matters to overcome? (oh, I can think of at least one) For now, I’ll just enjoy this little vacation, because I’ve got a feeling that once we all get our asses in gear and get off this dump, there won’t be any time to spare, no matter how worthy the distraction.
We finished our shelter in the nick of time: the clouds above us parted, the rain scattering, and in its place came the sun, pregnant with heat. We would have been roasted alive if we hadn’t scrambled underneath our handmade canopy; we stayed there in relatively tight
quarters for a good time, long enough to fear hunger and thirst. We had a fair supply stocked away, but it wouldn’t be enough to last us the rest of the day, so Shana and Mink volunteered to look for more. I personally didn’t see anything amiss as they vanished in the distance, but I could tell Herut was feeling a little jealous. She and Shana were close, I noticed, and I also noticed how affectionate the little wonder was with Mink. Since it wasn’t any of my business, I just sat back and waited, content to bask in the heat like a lizard.
Speaking of lizards, Herut spotted someone approaching us a few minutes after the other girls left. I leaped up for joy, hoping it was one of our friends come to rescue us. I couldn’t see them well in this bleary heat, but I knew it was not a mirage, and I knew they were not one of our companions: she was dressed completely different and didn’t run after us like you’d expect. She approached us carefully, completely covered with a white cloak, a straw hat shielding her face. She paused a few steps away from our shelter, removing her hat, staring at us intently. I balled my fists up defensively, squinting through the merciless sunlight to see if I recognized her. She spoke before any names could come to mind.
“Been a long time. Do you have any water?”
“What do you mean, ‘been a long time’?” I asked. She grumbled and unwrapped her cloak, revealing a svelte, flexible, feminine body, her skin as gray as mink’s, her hair pale green like young grass, her eyes covered by special goggles that filtered out the light. I recognized that accessory at once and felt my heart jump. She had been one of the crewmembers who left us after we acquired the Tome of Treasures. “Oh, I see. Changera, right?”
“I figured you’d remember eventually. So do you have any water or not?”
“We do, but it’s not much,” I answered. I gave Herut a look and reached for our last canteen. Changer emptied it—there was barely a mouthful in there—and sighed with relief.
“Thanks, I owe you. The weather’s been unpredictable lately.”
“Tell us about it,” I said, dropping my guard a little. I didn’t trust Changera at all—I knew she was a Doppelganger, a shape-shifter, and could deceive us if we weren’t careful—but she was vulnerable now, and more importantly, she owed us for saving her life. “Some of the others are out looking for water right now. They should be back soon. Mind if I ask what you’re doing here?”
“Only if I can ask you.”
“Fair enough,” I shrugged. “But you first.”
“Very well,” she smirked. “I was sent here on a mission. This planet has a secret, and I’ve been hired to uncover it. The who and the why are confidential.”
“At least you’ve got a purpose,” Herut muttered jealously. “We were stranded here. Rachel sort of went out of control and teleported us here.”
“Rachel?” Changera whispered. “I don’t remember anybody named Rachel in the crew. Nobody could teleport either, for that matter.” I grimaced and glared at Herut, wondering how somebody so smart could slip up like that. You idiot, I wanted to scream, she doesn’t know about that, and there’s no need to tell her! Herut seemed embarrassed that she had revealed such a key secret, so when Changera pressed her, she feigned ignorance.
“It’s nothing, really. Nothing that concerns your mission.”
“That’s Dr. Miracle’s first name,” I said, improvising as best I could. “Rachel Miracle. We call…it…by its first name.”
“So Dr. Miracle was a woman all along?” Changera murmured. I could tell she wasn’t buying our story, but I had to keep going in case I was wrong.
“Dr. Miracle is…feminine,” I managed. “It’s sort of like calling nature itself a woman,
or time a man.”
“I see. I get it now.” Changera smiled craftily and walked past us, affixing her cloak and hat again. “Well, it’s been fun seeing you again, Miss Kasberry, and thank you for the water. I’ve got a mission to complete, so I’ll be off. Maybe we’ll run into each other again. Who knows, eh?” I got chills up my spine in spite of the heat—Herut’s face had turned green with illness—and I stood in a numb stupor until Mink and Shana came back with some relief. We told them about what had transpired, but Shana tried assuring us that we did nothing wrong.
“It’s not that crucial a secret, right? Besides, from what I remember, Changera seems like a trustworthy person. Let’s not worry about it.”
“Too many disasters have come from letting matters go,” Mink warned her. Shana looked up at her, smiled sadly, and drew her into a comforting embrace. Herut watched with envious stoicism, not that I could blame her anymore. If only somebody held me like that.
Preview of next chapter
Mink: How did all this begin? What caused Rachel to lose control like that? What happened to her? Will everybody be rescued, and will we be able to leave this world?
Herut: The next chapter will do its best to answer these questions as the final group of castaways struggles to unearth the truth.
Shana: So can we all have HLS once we’re finished with this introspective crap?
Mink: I wouldn’t mind.
Herut: blush! S-sex?
Shana: Heeheehee!
Eve: I’d settle for some action! I’m bored sitting around on my butt!
Shana: Finally, the conclusion to volume five has arrived! Everything will be decided in the next chapter, “Master of the World: a colossal struggle to earn our freedom!”
Eve: Hopefully with character development out of the way, we can get back to good ol’ blood and guts fighting!
Mink: And HLS.
Herut: …
Eve: …
Shana: Wheee!!
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