Author's note:
This is the fourteenth (and final!) chapter of my series Lost Colony. Most readers should start with chapter one, but if you want to scroll down to the steamy parts, be my guest!
This is a work of (science) fiction. All characters are over age eighteen. Thanks for reading!
BTW, I published a summary of the first eight chapters, so if you're just joining the story and want to catch up without reading those chapters, you can read the summary. Naturally, it's full of spoilers; as the author, I'd rather you read the entire thing.
----------------
How old had he been? Nine?
Sparr, with unfading clarity, remembered the day as a child he had first visited the Baltimore aquarium. His parents had led him past the touch pools dotted with rays, and around the penguin enclosure. These animals were already familiar to him, featured in his favorite childhood books and videos. Even the reef tank, an imposing exhibit thick with blacktip sharks, pufferfish, and whiptail rays, was easily within his comprehension. Its inhabitants looked and acted exactly like fish should, either camouflaging themselves in the sand or scouring the water restlessly, eager for prey.
But farther into the building, deep within corridors dark and quiet, they came upon tanks of jellyfish, stars, and anemones. These creatures seemed neither to hide nor hunt. Sparr had watched, entranced by their waving tendrils, improbable colors, and languid movements, until at last his parents had to tear him away. These weren't fish as he knew them; they fit into no easy category within his mind.
Twenty-five years later the feeling swept over Sparr once more. Standing with the Translator Brielle, and surrounded by the Originals, he struggled to place the aliens into a category he could accept. The massive, slug-shaped beings appeared completely immobile. Covered as they were in delicate fronds, Sparr would have assumed they were plants or missed them entirely. Brielle had guided him to the truth, but he was slow to absorb it.
"You said something terrible happened?" Sparr had been asking questions of Brielle, the first person he had met on Kaybe with both the knowledge of past events and the willingness to share it.
"Yes," the Translator said. "When we didn't heed their warning, there was no avoiding the plague."
"The Originals caused a plague?"
"No!" Brielle said hastily. "No, we brought it on ourselves when we dug."
The timeline began to come together. The warning that Brielle referred to was something like an electromagnetic pulse, or EMP. When the colonists showed up they eventually got around to mining. The Originals, the ice-burrowing aliens native to Kaybe, had become alarmed that the colonists were mining in dangerous locations. Unable to communicate with the colonists, they had resorted to disrupting their electronics with the EMP, intending it to be a warning. But instead of heeding the warning, the colonists had minted tokens, each of which was imprinted with the code for a single piece of equipment or part. The mining must have resumed.
"So the plague had a natural origin?"
"Natural and ancient," Brielle confirmed, "from a time before even the Originals."
"What is wanted from me? Why was I rescued?"
"Last time they couldn't talk to us, couldn't warn us of the danger."
They were finally getting around to it. "And this time they think I can convince my people to stop digging?"
"There's no one else, Alain."
A silence hung between them. Sparr wanted to help, but the difficulty of the task couldn't be ignored. He had already failed once in his plan to gain access to the Odysseus camp, nearly getting killed in the process. It wouldn't be any easier the second time. "Fucking drones," he muttered, more to himself than Brielle.
"The machines?" Brielle was still watching him carefully.
"Yes. They'll be looking for me."
"They know of the difficulty," Brielle said, presumably referring to the Originals. "They gave you this." She drew close to Sparr, pressing a small bundle into his hands. She explained its use.
A hundred questions came to mind, but before Sparr could pursue even one of them, Chael dashed into the chamber. "We have a problem."
Chael led them toward the surface, up half a dozen ramps through the ice and rock. Other chambers appeared to either side, some empty, some stocked with supplies. Ignoring them, the trio eventually found the massive main cave. Sparr had seen it a month past, standing at the rim with Chi, the Precipice priest. At the time he had been in awe of the cave's staggering size and perfectly circular opening. It was no less impressive from partway down, the wooden stairs toward the surface dwarfed by the immensity of the cave.
Near the top, Chael gestured for Sparr to keep behind him. They peered cautiously over the rim. "There," Chael said. "Look."
"Son of a bitch," Sparr muttered. The drone hovered lazily over the Portal compound, not bothering even to stay high enough to avoid detection. Below, the compound was eerily quiet, with only the smoke of a cookfire to suggest that it was occupied.
"It's watching for you, isn't it?" Chael kept his eyes on the drone.
"Probably," Sparr admitted, although he wondered how they knew where to look.
"And there's something else. A silver boat, low in the water like it's already half sunk. And a woman."
Sparr's heart sank. "A tall, blonde woman?"
"Yes, do you-"
"Yes, fuck," Sparr said. Calista, in her submersible. He was eager to confront her, but on his terms, not hers. "What is the plan for getting me out of here?"
"There is a ship waiting. Your friend is on board."
"My friend? Tracee?"
"Yes," Chael said. "The woman from Neeva. The one with the glass eyes."
"Shit!" Could the day hold any more surprises? A departure from the Portal with Tracee was appealing, but with Calista and the drone watching, it seemed like a longshot. How could he reach the ship with so many eyes on him? He turned the problem around in his head, restlessly.
"Can you get me any closer to the blonde?"
***
Sparr watched as Chael trotted down the stairs toward the Portal compound. The drone spun, swept to one side then the other, then settled back into its original position. Sparr and Brielle slunk back away from the cave entrance.
"I'll show you the way," Brielle said. "It's a bit tight, but I think we can manage."
The pair retraced their steps, from daylight at the cave's mouth, back into the increasingly dim interior. As they went, Sparr once again had time to consider the countless questions pressing in on him. One tugged at his attention more urgently than the others.
"Brielle," Sparr began. Unlike the Translator, who hopped easily across both ice and stone, Sparr had to move with care. "The animals on the surface. Do the Originals say how long they've been here?"
She gave him a curious look. "What do you mean? Different ages, I suppose. The seals have long lives. I'm not sure, but I think a hare is lucky to see five years."
"I meant," Sparr said, "how long have the hares and seals been on this world?"
"Oh." Brielle said nothing for several seconds as they descended a steep section. "I don't know. It isn't part of the teachings."
The origin of Kaybe species had intrigued Sparr since he first learned they were near perfect genetic matches of Earth species. "Can you ask them? Ask the Originals?"
"Ask?" The concept seemed never to have occurred to Brielle. "We don't ask. We listen, and they teach."
"But you speak to them. You can ask if you want to?"
They were back in one of the larger chambers that Chael had first led him to. Several of the Originals lay half burrowed into the ice, seemingly immobile. Whether they had come simply to feed, or if there was some social aspect to their behavior, Sparr had no idea.
"I can ask," Brielle said. "You mustn't speak until I say so."
Brielle took in a deep breath and slowly let it out, some air passing through her mouth, and some through her nose. Sparr listened, entranced, as the sibilant, alien sound filled the chamber. Some parts he could hear clearly, some were inaudible, too shrill or soft for him to perceive. After half a minute she once again took up the common tongue. "I don't know if they will answer."
"Were you speaking to her?" Sparr asked, indicating the closest Original.
"Hmm? Oh, no, it doesn't work that way. I spoke to all of them."
While Sparr digested this latest piece of information, several of the younger Translators filed into the chamber, escorted by a priest. A few carried parchment and charcoal, others leaned casually against the Originals, using them as back rests.
"They don't mind that?" Sparr asked.
"Oh, not at all. It helps us learn. It's like-" Brielle stopped abruptly, raising a finger to ask for quiet.
From nowhere in particular, the alien language swelled, receded, then rose again. Brielle listened raptly, lips just parted, eyes no more than slits. Once she responded, her voice a song, barely audible, its meaning unfathomable. Again, the language rose around them, and again Brielle sang out some new query. It reminded Sparr of a call and response from gospel music. Then, just before the sound at last faded, Brielle's eyes opened wide, shooting a meaningful glance at Sparr. She gestured for him to follow her.
"How did you know?" Brielle asked, once they were out of the chamber.
"How did I know what?"
Brielle shook her head almost imperceptibly. "The animals, both land and sea. We don't have a word for it." She furrowed her brow. "A thousand thousand?"
Sparr understood. The word million had no doubt been lost to the inhabitants of Kaybe. They seemed to have little mathematics, and no need for such a large number regardless. "In my language we call it million," he said.
"A mill-ion," Brielle said, carefully sounding out the new word. "The animals of this world have been here for seven million years."
It was even longer than Sparr's wildest guess. Seven million years was long enough for meaningful evolutionary differentiation. In addition to the almost-chickens and not-quite-figs he had sequenced, the planet must hold entirely new species as well.
"Did the Originals say how they got here?"
Brielle told him. As the pair descended, she answered his question, and many more. Sparr listened, astonished as the last few pieces of the Kaybe mystery unfolded like a flower.
***
"I see her, yes!"
Sparr and Brielle lay prone on the ice, outside the far edge of the Portal compound. From their vantage point they could just see the observation deck which marked the closest spot most visitors were allowed to get to the Portal. The ship which Sparr had intended to catch was still pulled alongside the dock. Much closer, the top hatch of Calista's sub glinted in the late afternoon sun.
And there was Calista herself. Unlike Sparr, who had by necessity dressed himself in the robes, wraps, furs, and vests of the locals, his ex-lover dressed brazenly in a close-fitting thermal management suit favored by the Alliance. The garment would keep her warm on a glacier or cool in the desert, but did nothing to help her blend in.
"That's your friend?" Brielle asked.
