My 1000-years love

Chapter 12

For a while, I wandered through the corridors of this living ship, occasionally encountering its inhabitants. The tattooed “bikers” already introduced to me bowed with respectful yet genuine smiles. However, many of those I met were not at all like the “empire’s best thugs.” They were dressed in shiny jumpsuits. And they were thin. Not the jumpsuits, but the humanoids themselves. Compared to the broad-shouldered, two-meter-tall “military men,” these reminded me of tall, gangly teenagers like Diarth. Though their faces showed they were not children. Probably scientists, I guessed, recalling his story that half the crew were engineers and researchers. They were so absorbed in themselves that even bumping into me, they didn’t always notice.

Lost in thought and observation, I wandered to the lower deck, which differed significantly in decor from the upper one. The corridor was dimly lit, entirely metallic. No carpets like on the archon’s deck, no plastic or illumination like on the main crew’s deck. Just no dripping water from the ceiling or flickering lights, I thought. This setting eerily reminded me of Alien movies. Think I got scared? Not for a second. The absurdity of the situation and this damn horror movie corridor completely broke me. And I started to laugh.

Laugh as I had never laughed before in my life. Now alien drool will start dripping from the ceiling, I kept laughing. With each new bout, I felt my body freeing from fears, earthly problems, and the terror of uncertainty. I felt filled with the energy of a warrior before a battle, ready for anything. With nothing to lose, free and joyful. I felt that I had returned. Or rather, my Self had returned. The one that had left me so long ago, back on my distant Earth, throughout my prolonged depression and failed family life. The Self I had always trusted unconditionally, which had always been with me, my core and essence. I didn’t understand what had come over me. But as the fits of laughter subsided, I suddenly heard a loud, deep voice:

“Just music to my ears. Laugh more, dear girl.”

Yeah, right. Only if I run away first. Of course, I was scared. Jokes about Aliens were just jokes. In reality, Sgannar’s and the crew’s behavior had assured me that I was safe everywhere on T-GInArA. And here was another maniac around the corner. Laugh for him. Still, I tried to be bolder.

“Maybe you want me to dance too? Then show yourself!”

“I can’t, dear girl.”

“You’ll soon find out, sunshine, that you’re very mistaken. I’m not dear to you at all.”

Silence.

“So where are you, lover of hysterical laughter?”

“I’m here, in the cell.”

Squinting to adjust to the darkness, I walked deeper into the corridor and saw the outline of a door. A thick, very armored-looking door. It had a thick glass, through which, as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, the silhouette of a huge human figure became visible. Hannibal Lecter? The film from the distant past came to mind again, and I giggled. The figure approached the glass, and I managed to see it better. Broad-shouldered, literally olive-green, covered in intricate tattoos, the giant had a surprisingly good-natured, perfectly proportionate face. Kind, harmless eyes looked at me with admiration. And I was flustered again. I couldn’t get used to this strange admiration and respect from so many people. Recently, almost no one had looked at me. And here.

He smiled even wider.

“Your laughter poured healing nectar over my soul.”

"Alright,” I didn’t feel like being sarcastic or biting back. “Why are you here?”

“Some glitch in my head. Went off the rails. That’s what the archon said.”

“And what do you think?”

“Now I don’t feel it, but since he said so, it must be true.” Again this iron obedience. “And I went off the rails a long time ago. When my family exploded with my planet.”

“Oh... I’m so sorry,” I tried to say as respectfully as possible.

We fell into an awkward silence again.

“Oh, you must be the soldier who beat up the engineer who insulted you?” In vague terms, I recalled Diarth’s story but didn’t remember names or ranks.

“Yes, I’m Tragaon. But you can call me Trin. That’s what my friends call me.”

“But I’m not your friend yet.”

“But I feel like you are. Are you the one we flew to Gaia for?”

“Apparently, yes.”

“Then you’re the Captain’s Heart. Know that I would give my life for you.” What the heck! He’s only known me for two seconds. Are they all insane here?

“Don’t rush with that. Aren’t you angry that you’re locked up here for nothing?” I decided to test the guy’s aggression level.

“If the archon decided so, there was a reason. And I will serve my sentence as long as he says.”

“Then why didn’t you listen to the archon when he told you to let the guy go?”

“The archon didn’t immediately understand why I attacked him. If he had known, he would have killed that stinking pig himself.”

“Then why didn’t you enlighten him?”

“Tragaon doesn’t complain or snitch. Tragaon punishes those who don’t respect the archon!” the giant blurted out.

“I was told that guy started insulting your race, and that’s why you attacked him.” I wanted to catch the big guy out.

“Such behavior also deserves punishment, but then I wouldn’t have lost control enough to disobey the archon.”

“And what did he say about him?”

“Typical male vulgarities, Arhaite. Your delicate ears shouldn’t hear that.”

“Listen, kiddo. If you really want us to be friends, remember a few things: your Arhaite is not a delicate flower, not a sweetie, not a baby, and not a meek lamb. Sometimes she swears like a sailor, doesn’t mind insulting everyone around, and then laughing about it. And recently, I’ve been itching to punch someone really hard. So, buddy, get rid of all your pink clouds where I’m riding a pink unicorn in a white dress, and then we’ll be friends.”

For a second, he was silent. His face twitched, and I thought tears of disappointment in the one he had fiercely and virtually defended would burst from his huge eyes. But then he laughed. Loudly and sincerely. Watching his childlike carefree laughter, it was impossible not to smile.

After that, we talked for a long time, sitting on the floor. I on one side of the wall, him on the other. I told my story. The little I remembered from Earth. About my children. The news about them especially moved him. He was silent. But how he jumped up and stared tensely at my face, trying to catch all the shades of pain and feelings as I talked, told me a lot. He empathized, absorbing the weight from my soul, and with each moment, I felt how I shared my burden with him.

I led him to tell his story. Learned about his family. On Qui-Dragal lived the race of Quideks. The men were strong and fearless. They hadn’t always been warriors. Once, they were farmers and craftsmen. And the women - gentle and loving homemakers, waiting for their husbands, sons, and fathers after a hard day’s work. They were harmless. It was not customary for them to quarrel, take offense, or mock each other, to lecture or criticize. They were simple and happy. And of course, this never goes unnoticed by those deprived of such spiritual blessings.

Qui-Dragal began to suffer attacks from space. At first insignificant and rare, which gave many men time to change their destiny and master the art of defense. And then another trait emerged in their race: during battle, Quideks fell into a sacred war trance. From phlegmatic, harmless giants, they turned into perfect machines for killing, swift and tactical.

“Just like our berserkers,” I interjected. “We had those.”

Trin continued.

“Many in the galaxies liked our abilities. Many races wanted us in their armies. But our women said ‘no’. They would not bear and give their sons to die in other worlds, for other wars. The most eager to have us in their army were the Sects. But after the categorical refusal, they blew up our planet from within. Our technologies were simply childish compared to many civilizations in the Virgo cluster.

So you understand, a planet doesn’t explode in a minute. It goes through severe heating, crust movement, multiple ruptures, earthquakes, tsunamis. This global catastrophe gave the inhabitants of Qui-Dragal some time to evacuate. Many, very many boarded our imperfect ships, capable only of orbiting, into small rescue shuttles. We lifted any flying transport into nowhere. Only faintly hoping that some other races, who had once shown interest in us, might save us. This was exactly what the Sects were counting on. They smoked out an entire people from the planet. Then simply gathered all the survivors, loaded them into the holds, and took them to their planets. Like cattle. No more negotiations, no more deals they talked about before. It’s said many Quideks are now genetically modified, their genome crossed with the Sects’. Thus, the strength and power of my race became its curse.

Our ship was shattered by planetary debris. My family: mother, sister Taona, and wife Aunnet - each managed to take a rescue capsule. Otherwise, it was simply impossible,” Tragaon convinced himself. “The capsules just don’t accept two people. They don’t close and don’t work. And as we were already flying apart, I saw them all explode. All three. One after another. I waited, waited for my turn to follow them. But it didn’t happen. My rescue capsule was carried further and further until it got wedged in a crack of a huge asteroid left from the Kwi-Dragal explosion. The Sects never found me there. I refused to accept what I saw and put myself into a state of hibernation. The archon says I lay like that for about twenty years until an Allion research ship picked up my weak thermal signal. Then came rehabilitation. I joined the Galactic Fleet, met the archon. Now I’m here.”

“Illustrious Arhaite,” came T-GInArA’s multidimensional voice from the ceiling, “The archon requests your presence at dinner.”

“Well, I must go.” I still didn’t know what else I could say in response to his gruesome story. “Otherwise, Sgannar will come here himself. And that doesn’t seem good to me.”

“Of course, Arhaite.” He hesitated. Opened his mouth, wanting to say something but closed it again.

“Do you want to warn me about something?” I asked suspiciously. ”Or ask?”

“I just,” he lowered his gaze, “I just wanted… If the Arhaite is ever bored, could she visit me again? I enjoyed our conversation.”

“Of course,” I replied quickly. “I’d love to. I think you were right. We could become friends.”

And Tragaon beamed like a child.