Dream Planet. Book 1. Star Maze

Chpter 12. Atla's Story (part 2)

In order to survive on Sirius, to feed herself and acquire the needed money for the purchases, Atla worked a lot, and the work was far from designations like "prestigious", "elite" or "noble". Atla cleaned up after the dirtiest and most pitiful rundowns of the Seven Worlds. There was no fear before anything, and pride as well, and so no one was able to scare her.

At first, she cleaned and washed public places, collecting the dust into a little bag, managing to buy one thing on the list. After that, she gave the money out to beggars, who noticed the girl's lack of greed and rushed to pick her apart. Atla needed greed like the air she breathed, and felt its absence acutely. The seemingly vile feeling turned out to be vital. She could go hungry herself, giving all her reserves out to strangers.

 Atla had to move, or rather run away, many times. Extraterrestrial creatures quickly picked up on her inadequacy and used it against her. She suffered most of all from her lack of anger. She was indifferent to being beat up and didn't resist, or rather wasn't able to, so she would just run away instead. The absence of fear prevented her from accurately judging the situation around her, and she would often take unnecessary risks. She got into fights, intervened in arguments, and watched fires rage around her with disdain and indifference. She was lied to and used, cheated and thrown out. But most of all she missed love. She didn't love anyone or anything - not her past, not her future, and not herself.  

Strangely enough, no Krameans came looking for her. Not a single piece of news came from her father nor from Tatida.

Gloom and anguish captured her heart. Atla was defenseless and unable to stand up for herself. She cried a lot, but nonetheless didn't give up - the strong, domineering blood of an ancient Kramean race prevented her from doing so. She would wipe her tears, get up and keep going. 

Hundreds of times she got burned by people's greed and avarice, but she finally managed to find a light and peaceful corner among the Seven Worlds. This magical place was a morgue on the interplanetary station Sto. Cold, quiet, calmness and indifference surrounded her. Death was frequent here, just like on many of the other stations, and there was always lots of work to keep her busy. Corpses were unable to cause her pain, to wound or humiliate her. They remained silent and at times even listened to her quiet sobs and complaints. The living avoided this place, but Atla was indifferent. The mute morgue supervisor, a robot, paid her generously, but even now her selflessness plagued her as soon as she ventured out into the world of the living.  

"Luckily, they didn't steal away my brain," Atla once thought to herself, standing over a dying animal. She raised herself a little helper, a small lame dog from the planet Murie she'd found dying of thirst. The dog was chimerian in breed and gifted with intelligence; Atla made a deal with him. She hung a bag where she collected all her earnings onto his neck and demanded that he bite her every time she tried to spend it aimlessly. In return she promised to feed and protect him, giving him the name Animal. 

Initially, her hands were covered in bites, but this was the only way she was able to save up enough money for the remaining items on her list. Animal was completely devoted to her, ate from her hands, protected her and threw himself onto anyone who tried to hurt his mistress. Atla found protection in her new friend. She felt more secure, and gradually her natural telepathic abilities started to return, but without her full spectrum of emotions, any efforts to return to her former glory were doomed.

‘All emotions are necessary, it's the only way to live,’ Atla concluded once and for all, dreaming of restoring internal balance one day. Looking at her lame, half-dead dog, Atla saw herself: not a person, but a cripple - a strange creature with a damaged soul.

Her poor little friend helped her recover some of her lost self-preservation instinct. The dog had enough anger, pride and greed to replenish the emptiness in the heart of his beloved savior. He dragged his impetuous mistress by the hem away from scuffles. Animal helped her save up enough money to buy all the items on the list. With high spirits, anticipating her full recovery she returned to the Oeelians exactly a year later, just as agreed.

The redheads greeted her radiantly, accepted the merchandise with a grateful smile, and sent her on a new mission with a new list without a hint of guilt or hesitation.

"You forget about dignity when on the brink of extermination. We need you, Atla! Complete this task and we'll return all your emotions!" said the redheaded banshee with a cunning smile and cold, narrowed eyes.

Swallowing her disappointment and her failed hope of liberation, Atla set off once again.

 She returned to the Oeelians many times to pass along what she'd gathered, hoping that this one will be the last, after which she immediately left for the next phase of her s*****y. Resentment gradually began to grow inside of her. Time went on, but liberation was still a long way off. Earning her money honestly became unbearably tedious, and the yearning to regain her emotions - unbearably strong. At that point, Atla risked stealing. Quiet, fierce hatred and cold cynicism replaced her anger, pride, fear, greed and love. She found a new source of strength. Her hatred gave her energy to live on. The powerful feeling pushed desperation, disappointment, hurt and self-pity out of her heart. It seemed she'd once again attained a sense of self. 

Atla changed radically. She became stronger and more confident, but remained enslaved just as before. She got used to seeing the world as grey and started to forget what it really looked like. At first, her robberies were minor and harmless. She was a pickpocket, stealing from anyone who crossed her path - be that Kramean, Ionian, Guinean or anyone else. No one could match her skill - she was able to feel people, catch on to their thoughts, and most importantly, was completely fearless. Her dog was barely able to run her stolen money to the division of interplanetary technology.

The lists were now fulfilled ten times as fast. Atla even began to enjoy her pursuits, treating them as an arduous game. Many of the needed parts were unbelievably difficult to find, and many others could only be made to order. This called for even greater ingenuity on her part. Thereby, Atla found herself in the dark and slippery world of swindlers, since this was the only place she could find what she was looking for.  

At first with their help and then on her own, she got involved in space piracy and contraband. People would talk about her: "This girl has no head, she's a child of a black hole!"

 Her fearlessness frightened. She plowed through everything in her path, impervious to obstacles. At the same time, she was ready to give herself over completely and be left with nothing. Only the dog could stop her in time. Atla gained a distinct self-image, an expressive manner and a one-of-a-kind persona. She left a bright trace behind her wherever she went. She developed her own style: a wide-brimmed hat with long black braids sticking out from underneath, an open smile, daring makeup, always pants made out of rough, durable material and always a skinny, lame dog by her side with a bag around its neck. She was recognized even by those who were seeing her for the first time.

Atla knew all the languages, and spoke them loudly and with confidence. She learned to make anyone fall in love with her at first sight and to impress the crowd, after which she shamelessly picked them to the bone and escaped, or rather set them up so that the unfortunates gave everything up themselves and were even glad for the encounter.

Time went by, Atla was growing up, turning from a child into a teenager, and from a teenager into a young woman. She fervently worked for the Oeelians, but they were in no rush to give her back her emotions, blackmailing her and loading her with yet another mission, and another.

Throughout these years, Atla learned to charm her way into even the most select societies, whether that be soulless robots from Iona or dreamy Murians on stingrays, or the cautious Pacifians. She developed so many connections that now she could make money off of them. If all of a sudden a Guinean captain's child fell sick with an incurable illness, she'd find a way to get him the best doctor from Murie, a planet whose medicine was ten times as good. If criminals from Pacifa wanted to get rid of a body, Atla directed them to the morgue overseer whom she'd so selflessly worked for as a child. With the help of special corrosive substances, not even a trace was left over afterwards, only chemical compounds. If a wanted felon needed cover, she'd successfully find him a hiding place in the dark, bottomless world of the seven planets, for which she charged a considerable sum.    

Atla learned to read people and understand the various races. She showered some of them with exotic gifts from faraway corners of the system, some she entertained with exaggerated stories about fantastic travels to faraway worlds, and with others she got right down to business. The result was all the same: she took what she wanted, be that a rare piece of merchandise, a profitable acquaintance or little bags of diamond dust that were immediately snatched out of her hands by her dog. 

 At times she would look at herself with disdain in the mirror, which was glued together many times with a laser after yet another shatter. She saw elongated facial features, a prominent chin, a sharp, strong jawline, small wrinkles from the smile constantly plastered across her face, and a bottomless emptiness and pain in her eyes. However weakly, but the colour red would at times slip into her life. In order to somehow liven up her face in the reflection, she painted her lips a toxic red, which seemed to her a barely visible pink, and she lined her eyes with a thick layer of black, which she saw as grey. But no matter what she did, her enormous soul still felt the painful lack of colour. She wanted to howl with anguish - without love and anger her life lost all meaning, and the will to keep fighting for her feelings became weaker and weaker.   

Atla went everywhere and knew everything. There was only one planet she still avoided - Krama. Abysmal shame and an overwhelming sense of indebtedness flared up inside of her whenever she saw the pale-red tint of her home planet in the distance. The Krameans still didn't search for her.  

"Atla, your pride is dying!" a quiet voice called from the Oeelian ship across the intercom.

Atla flinched, and immediately turned her ship towards the ring of asteroids. No other words were needed, she understood everything. The woman who kept her pride was on her deathbed, and she had to make it back to the ship in time. Judging from how cautiously and quietly the voice spoke, Atla concluded that one of the Oeelians went against the looker's orders and warned her in secret.

"Where is she?" Atla shouted, bursting through the doors of the ship.

The Oeelians that greeted her exchanged a frightened glance and lowered their eyes.

"She's not here," one of them said, examining a spiral design on the ceiling.

"Look me in the eyes!" Atla shrieked in desperation.

"Oeelians never look directly in the eyes, you forgot what I taught you!" came a familiar voice from behind her back.

"You should've just let your spouse eat me back then, instead of torturing me like this!" said Atla bitterly, without turning her head, "Where is my pride??" she turned sharply and grabbed the woman by the throat.

The dog backed up his mistress with a menacing growl.

"Let go!" the woman wheezed.

"Tell me!"

The woman remained silent and looked Atla dead in the eye. The years filled her face filled with wrinkles, and her eyes were so red it seemed she hadn't slept in weeks.

Atla looked around, and not remembering seeing even a single trace of battle as she approached the ship, graced the Oeelian with a direct, suspicious gaze. The woman rushed to explain:

"They had a strong magnetic field. They never had such a weapon before. A couple minutes of impact and dozens of us, the ones who were weak, are lying in the west end of the ship with internal bleeding."

"What about her?" Atla asked hesitantly.

"Her too," said the woman, lowering her lids.

Atla gave a start and was about to run.

"Hold on!"

Atla froze.

"I'm the one who called you, Atla! And we need you now more than ever. Please, promise that you won't abandon us once you get back your pride."

"I won't abandon you, even if I get all of my emotions back. I have no one else in this world," she told her with an earnest glance, "I've gotten used to serving you." A tear slid down her cheek, leaving behind a smudged black streak. 

The redhead looked at her carefully - the girl wasn't lying. She'd become an obedient, priceless little marionette. The Oeelian woman was moved and flattered that they were able to tame the young priestess so successfully. The girl rekindled hope among the doomed race - for the last six years, she was the single-handed breadwinner for the whole entire ship. But now there was the question of her pride, and the woman wasn't sure what to do. The pride was mentioned only in order to get her here as soon as possible and arm her with the new, urgent mission of destroying the Guinean weapon.  

Atla was tense with anticipation. She looked at the Oeelian and tried to understand what was in her head, but unsuccessfully.

 ‘Her will is broken,’ thought the woman. ‘She won't gain anything by getting back her pride. Should we return it? Besides, we need to get her a little something to inspire her for the serious mission.’

"Atla, we greatly value your help," she said, "And just so you know that we aren't lying and honour our word, today you'll get back your pride, and after you carry out the last assignment, the rest of your emotions as well."

Atla smiled timidly.

The woman took her by the hand and led her down the hall. They walked quickly, and the ship was unusually quiet. Judging from the b****y streaks on the floors, Atla concluded that the woman wasn't lying. As they walked, she noticed a rounded belly protruding from underneath her translucent tunic.

"I thought the law prohibits you from having children," Atla said, noticing that the keeper of her fear was expecting.

"You changed the law. You gave us hope, and I'm not afraid to give birth."

Atla lowered her eyes.

Soon they reached the infirmary. The door opened, and Atla was greeted by a multitude of tired red eyes looking at her in the dim light. Examining the dying faces, Atla quickly found the one that took away her pride. The faces of those five women were seared into her memory - there was no mistaking them, although it seemed like this woman was already dead. Atla kneeled down beside her and took her cold hand into hers. 

"Give me back my pride," she whispered.

The woman slowly opened her eyes and silently turned her head towards Atla. Traces of dried blood were visible beside her nose and ears, and her eyes were bloodshot. She recognized Atla with a start and burst into a feeble, frightened fit of coughing. She tried to say something, but no sound would leave her trembling lips. The first woman squinted and tried to distinguish some of her friend's words, but to no avail. One thing was clear though: she had no intention of giving Atla's pride back to her. That much was apparent even without words.

"Just relax, please! Gather yourself and give the girl back her pride," said the Oeelian with overdone love and tenderness, wrapping her arms around her friend, "Our heroine deserves it!"

The other woman fervently shook her head with what little strength she had left.

"Don't be so stubborn!" she begged her.

The woman looked at her in silence, then suspiciously at Atla, then realizing that she isn't able to utter a single sound, started to draw something on her tunic in slow, weak movements. She dipped her hand in the blood dripping from the corner of her mouth and traced out an ornate symbol. A red spiral of a snake sat upon the snow-white dress.

The sign symbolized f*******n energy and was something like a stop sign for the Oeelians. Both Atla and the Oeelian woman correctly deciphered the message, but it didn't stop them. The woman turned her head in exasperation, ignoring her dying friend's wish.

"I'm sorry, but in that case I'll have to steal it away from you!"

She grabbed her head with her hands and lifted it off the bed. She looked at her face directly, lifted her eyelids with her fingers and started to pull Atla's pride out of her. It was a frightening sight to behold. Their bodies shook, and their pupils were expanded to maximum size. They radiated heat, and Atla jumped back. Then everything quickly dissipated and it seemed the sick woman was now dead, and the living one was bent over with pain.

"Look at me!" she yelled suddenly, putting one hand under Atla's chin.

Atla looked at her with worry and apprehension. Her pupils were still rotating, gradually gaining speed, like a wheel. She didn't hold the pride inside herself, but simply acted as a conductor. Atla started to feel herself filling up with something new, or rather long-forgotten. Yes, it was her pride - that long-awaited strong, real and living feeling she so dearly missed.

Atla heaved a deep sigh and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she was almost blinded by the brilliant blue that lit up all around. A sweet, pleasant warmth flooded her whole body. It got easier to breathe, and she wanted to weep with joy, but she held herself back - her pride was once again with her after all.

 Then came the revelation. Atla frowned, stood up and ran out of the infirmary. Bursting out the door, she stopped, caught her breath and slowly slid down along the wall to the floor. She'd never before felt so stuffy and terrible. Her pride was tainted and torn to shreds. Everything inside her screamed in protest. She felt nauseous. All of a sudden it all flashed before her eyes - the disgusting toilets, the stealing, s*****y, dirt, the revolting smell, the small, despicable shouting people, all the vileness and corruption of her old wicked world, and of herself. At a certain point she was overcome with a desire to kill herself, to erase her vile, horrid, sellout soul from the face of the universe. A flood of tears streamed down her cheeks. Nothing could wash away this shame. The insulted soul of a great Kramean priestess raged inside of her. Her hands were shaking, her eyes clouding with hate towards the damned Oeelians.  

Atla's shadow flickered outside the door. The Oeelians saw her frenzy, but were lost in a confused silence.

"What have you done!!" moaned the dying woman, spitting out blood.

Her friend looked at her with guilt and bewilderment. She'd already realized that she committed an unforgivable mistake.

"You underestimated her pride! You could have returned her any other feeling, but not her pride. You didn't listen to me, the one that's been dragging it around all these years! It permeates her entire being! We've lost the girl forever," hissed the woman with her dying breath and was gone. 

Her dead hand silently fell and hit the metal. Her friend stared at the spiral symbol and put a horrified hand to her mouth. Atla was nowhere to be found. The Oeelian rushed after her, but was no match for the vehement priestess. She met fresh bodies along the way. Atla had a deadly beam, and she went off the rails.

First, she ripped her greed out of the second Oeelian. Her world flashed purple, which only fed her desire to immediately regain everything. She then tore her anger out of the heart of the third redheaded banshee. Now, armed with fresh rage and contrast, she was unstoppable. She crushed and destroyed everything indiscriminately. The pregnant Oeelian, the keeper of her fear, made a feeble attempt to calm her down, but it only resulted in Atla gaining back her fear as well. 

"Stop!" she begged her, kneeling down and wrapping her hands around Atla's legs, "If you take your fear from me now, my daughter will be born without fear!" she wept, "Wait just a while longer, and I'll give it back to you!"

But Atla no longer believed anyone, this woman least of all. Grabbing her by her flaming locks, looking into her eyes, putting the deadly beam against her rounded stomach, she reclaimed all of her fear.

"Your child will have no need for fear! Only fearlessness can save you now, and as for me, count me out!" she said, and pushed her away.

When among the frightened, hiding women Atla found the one that had her love, she grabbed onto her throat with trembling hands and pushed her body into the metal, aiming the deadly beam at her eyes. Her love returned to her in fear of death, all of it to the last drop. Atla cooled down, looked around her and was filled with instant regret. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she wandered towards the exit to leave behind this godforsaken place once and for all. Without looking back, she hopped into her shuttle, her dog climbing in after her. She threw all the remaining bags of diamond dust to the Oeelians - her last gift to the tormented race. She shut the gateway and rushed out into space with the speed of light.

 That night Atla regained everything that was hers. Pride, greed, anger, fear and love were with her once again. She'd realized how important those feelings were for her, but at what cost? She remembered what anger was - a sudden flow of hot blood to the brain and a strong explosion in the chest, pushing her to feel how much power and energy lay inside. She remembered what greed was - a piercing, drilling feeling, bringing her mind and soul back to reality. With immense satisfaction, she once again felt fear - long-forgotten, sharp and frequent unnerving heartbeats.  

She was finally afraid - for herself, for her past and her future, for her people and the fate of all the Seven Worlds, whose dark and grimy side she had to witness all these years. "What is the world coming to?" she thought, covering her face with her hands. 

And finally, love. When her love came back to her, the first thing that appeared before her eyes was Krama, her people, her home, the faces of her father and Tatida. A sharp longing pierced her heart - for them, and for her dear red planet that she so stupidly and mercilessly betrayed. Holding onto the warm fur of her loyal dog, she started to cry. 

 "Come back!" she heard Tatida's voice inside her mind.

Atla flinched and started to cry even harder. The old psychic hasn't contacted her in six long years, and now she was inside her head once again, calling her to return. How she wanted to collapse into the old woman's lap, bury her face in her grey, fragrant hair and fall asleep just like she used to do as a child.

"We're waiting for you!" she heard once again.

This voice belonged to her father. Atla tore her swollen face away from the wet fur of her only friend, got up and without a single doubt turned her tattered shuttle towards Krama - the one place she's avoided all these years.

"It's time to come home," she thought, and set the route.

Her father and Tatida were already waiting for her on the landing platform. Atla got out timidly, looking at the floor. The head shaman threw himself at her and hugged her tightly, and Tatida rushed after him. Their faces betrayed their bewilderment, and their eyes were wet with tears. It seemed they might squish their poor, famished grown-up daughter to bits.

Beautiful, dear, strong, shrouded in fragrance, with glittering robes, weighty branching diadems and jeweled shoes, they looked like gods.

Atla wept.

"I... I... " she tried to say.

"We know," Tatida interrupted, not letting her apologize or repent, "It's just another part of your destiny," she nodded with a soft smile, "Come now, the water will get cold."

Atla wiped her tears, stood up straight and smiled.

Entering the golden hall, she washed herself in the clean water, thoroughly scrubbing the dirt from her body and the black and blood-red paint from her face. She almost felt like her soul was being cleansed in the process, but she knew it was just an illusion. Her terrible past weighed down on her. Collapsing into Tatida's lap, she moaned: 

"I've tainted my soul, there's blood on my hands. I killed, I stole and betrayed... How do I wash away my sins?"

The psychic wrapped her arms around her, pressed her lips to her hair and whispered:

"You will be able to cleanse your soul in the waters of a faraway planet. Only there you will find the spring that will wash the blackness off completely. Just you wait, Marcius will take you there soon enough. Save your people, and god will forgive you for your sins!"