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Authors: Alexander Jablokov
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recognize me for the martyr that I was? Somehow I doubted it. Devices crawled like bugs over the singleship, attaching modules.
I had trouble finding Aya’s ship when I returned. It was no longer near the coordinates where I had left it. If it hadn’t been for its transponder I never would have found it among all the rocks. It floated quiescent, not near anything in particular.
The singleship clicked back into its berth. I reentered the ship. The air was almost unbreathably foul. I snapped the support gear together and headed for the main sphere.
Aya was there. And she had found what she was looking for.
She hung there in the center, a glittering blue-green jewel in her deformed hands. She was unconscious, almost dead. The jewel illuminated her peaceful face.
Alone, untrained, desperate, I went to work repairing the life-system. Glowing spots floated in front of my eyes. I clicked new modules in, checked and double-checked them, scraped off corrosion, tested circuitry. At last, fresh air blew through the fetid stink. I sat back, not quite believing I had succeeded, and wiped the sweat from my forehead.
I went back up to Aya, to sink into the jewel. Chunks of carbonaceous chondrite, the rough egg in which the jewel had been encased, floated all around her. I cleaned it up before it destroyed any equipment.
On closer examination I saw that there were actually two different types of jewel, one more glorious than the other, though both shone like glowing planets. On my own, I named the lesser of the two lights lazarite—for, like Lazarus, we had been brought back from the dead. The greater I named ngomite. I knew that Aya Ngomo would try to give it another name. I also knew that she would never be able to make it stick.
I desperately wanted to name lazarite after myself—ostenite. I didn’t dare. So near, there at my fingers, and I didn’t dare. I would be forever hidden beneath that smelly old corpse, Lazarus. Look for me there, and you will find me. You will find my mark nowhere else.
The asteroids where she had found the jewels were already far away. The ship’s computer had the locations wiped from its memory. I stared at it in betrayal. Ordered to forget, it had loyally done so. There was no way I could return to the spot the ngomite and lazarite had come from. I scanned through the asteroids, hoping for some trace, some hint. How did she find it? What was around it? A crystal city? Nothing but barren rock? A massive multiarmed idol? I would never know.
While Aya slept, I investigated her discoveries. Ngomite had a complex crystal structure of high-atomie-number Island of Stability elements. I could already tell that its complexity was far greater than I could perceive. It looked almost planned, not like a natural substance at all. But that was ridiculous. The Ancient Ones were a myth that Aya had dreamed up to justify this journey.
Aya finally woke up, eyes glowing. Despite all my questions, she wouldn’t breathe a word of where she had found her jewel and what it meant. She turned our path back inward toward Earth.
“Oh, Vikram. It was glorious. Did you ever think I would succeed?”
“I never had any doubt.”
She laughed. Not a joyful laugh. It was almost contemptuous. “Of course not. But you never had any understanding either. Never. But it’s not too late. Do you think you will ever understand what you should have been?”
“I hope so.”
“Forgive me, Vikram.” She took my hand.
“For what you have felt? There is no forgiveness necessary.” I was magnanimous.
“Not that at all.” Her voice was sharp. “For having accepted you as you are. I should never have done that.”
She had found that which she sought. It was her jewel, the thing that she believed made her complete. Would her legs grow back, her spine straighten? She had long ago given up on that image of her salvation. Her salvation lay within her soul, a spot where I could never trespass.
The Monastery of St. Sergius,
I had trouble finding Aya’s ship when I returned. It was no longer near the coordinates where I had left it. If it hadn’t been for its transponder I never would have found it among all the rocks. It floated quiescent, not near anything in particular.
The singleship clicked back into its berth. I reentered the ship. The air was almost unbreathably foul. I snapped the support gear together and headed for the main sphere.
Aya was there. And she had found what she was looking for.
She hung there in the center, a glittering blue-green jewel in her deformed hands. She was unconscious, almost dead. The jewel illuminated her peaceful face.
Alone, untrained, desperate, I went to work repairing the life-system. Glowing spots floated in front of my eyes. I clicked new modules in, checked and double-checked them, scraped off corrosion, tested circuitry. At last, fresh air blew through the fetid stink. I sat back, not quite believing I had succeeded, and wiped the sweat from my forehead.
I went back up to Aya, to sink into the jewel. Chunks of carbonaceous chondrite, the rough egg in which the jewel had been encased, floated all around her. I cleaned it up before it destroyed any equipment.
On closer examination I saw that there were actually two different types of jewel, one more glorious than the other, though both shone like glowing planets. On my own, I named the lesser of the two lights lazarite—for, like Lazarus, we had been brought back from the dead. The greater I named ngomite. I knew that Aya Ngomo would try to give it another name. I also knew that she would never be able to make it stick.
I desperately wanted to name lazarite after myself—ostenite. I didn’t dare. So near, there at my fingers, and I didn’t dare. I would be forever hidden beneath that smelly old corpse, Lazarus. Look for me there, and you will find me. You will find my mark nowhere else.
The asteroids where she had found the jewels were already far away. The ship’s computer had the locations wiped from its memory. I stared at it in betrayal. Ordered to forget, it had loyally done so. There was no way I could return to the spot the ngomite and lazarite had come from. I scanned through the asteroids, hoping for some trace, some hint. How did she find it? What was around it? A crystal city? Nothing but barren rock? A massive multiarmed idol? I would never know.
While Aya slept, I investigated her discoveries. Ngomite had a complex crystal structure of high-atomie-number Island of Stability elements. I could already tell that its complexity was far greater than I could perceive. It looked almost planned, not like a natural substance at all. But that was ridiculous. The Ancient Ones were a myth that Aya had dreamed up to justify this journey.
Aya finally woke up, eyes glowing. Despite all my questions, she wouldn’t breathe a word of where she had found her jewel and what it meant. She turned our path back inward toward Earth.
“Oh, Vikram. It was glorious. Did you ever think I would succeed?”
“I never had any doubt.”
She laughed. Not a joyful laugh. It was almost contemptuous. “Of course not. But you never had any understanding either. Never. But it’s not too late. Do you think you will ever understand what you should have been?”
“I hope so.”
“Forgive me, Vikram.” She took my hand.
“For what you have felt? There is no forgiveness necessary.” I was magnanimous.
“Not that at all.” Her voice was sharp. “For having accepted you as you are. I should never have done that.”
She had found that which she sought. It was her jewel, the thing that she believed made her complete. Would her legs grow back, her spine straighten? She had long ago given up on that image of her salvation. Her salvation lay within her soul, a spot where I could never trespass.
The Monastery of St. Sergius,
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