Chapter 7
T he trip from the solar system to Lyll had taken just over six hours. Eashai had shown me where to store my things and where the bunks were if I wanted to sleep. Then he left me with Aisho.
The other man had dutifully shown me around the ship and talked to me about whatever I wanted to discuss.
But, despite knowing it was best for Eashai to sleep through his discomfort, I missed him.
It had almost been a relief when we docked at what appeared to be a space elevator, as it meant that he’d rejoin me.
I sat near a large window overlooking the planet—which was covered in a dense layer of teal-green clouds—waiting for him.
“My apologies,” came Eashai’s warm voice. “I did not intend to make you wait.”
I turned to face him. He was slightly disheveled and appeared queasy, but seemed more comfortable than he’d been when I left him at the bunks.
I stood and shook my head. “You’re fine. Are you ready, or do you need a moment before we get on the space elevator?”
He gave me a small smile. “The elevator has sufficient stabilizers. I will be alright.”
“Ok.” I shouldered my bag. “Ready when you are.”
“This way,” he said, nodding in the direction I’d seen others walking.
He led me through the corridors until we reached the docking arm. We had to stand aside for some sort of levitating cart bringing bins onto the ship, then we crossed the bridge to the massive structure.
“I almost expected some sort of molecular transport,” I laughed. “Like in science fiction. But a space elevator is even cooler.”
“Some species have adopted molecular transport,” Eashai stated. “However, many are uncomfortable with the thought of being deconstructed and reconstructed on an atomic level. Therefore, their use has been largely relegated to inorganic matter.”
I thought about it, then hummed. “Yeah. That makes sense. It’s cool in sci-fi. But I don’t know if I’d trust some system to reassemble me properly.”
He chuckled. “For all our advancements, we still cannot fully explain the spark of sentience. Would a single neuron out of place cause a person to be different?”
“Where is the soul?” I mused.
“The question is rooted in human beliefs, but is essentially correct. Is consciousness based in the physical form, or is there a multidimensional component that we have yet to discover?”
“Not my field of study,” I laughed. “But that’s why we do science. Discovering the answers to the questions is far more invigorating than blind faith.”
“You do not share the belief of many humans that there is some creator or higher power?”
I shrugged. “If you’re asking if I’m religious, the answer is no. But—to be honest—for me it’s more a problem with the institution of religion, rather than faith itself. Too many times in human history, religion has been used as a weapon rather than a means of peace.”
I paused and took a deep breath. “I consider myself agnostic. I don’t believe, but neither do I disbelieve.
I have no proof either way. However, I’m convinced that if there is some sort of higher power, they would want us to learn and expand our minds.
I don’t buy into the notion that we’re supposed to let some deity handle things for us.
We have free will—the ability to make choices for ourselves.
We wouldn’t have that if all some god-like figure wanted was a bunch of puppets always doing what they’re told. ”
“A measured response,” he chuckled. “As is your norm.”
“What about you? Is there some belief system I should know about?”
He stopped walking, one finger against his lips as he considered the question.
“That is difficult to answer. We do not believe in a singular deity like many humans. But we admit there are forces in the universe beyond our understanding. However, whether those forces have a direct and deliberate impact on our lives remains speculation.”
“What’s your position?”
He started walking again. “Like you, I do not know. I remain open to either possibility.”
We reached the platform just as the elevator capsule arrived. The doors opened to reveal an inner and outer row of seats.
“Which do you prefer?” I asked.
“There are several seats in the back row that swivel away from the window,” he stated. “I will take one of those. I will show you the others if you wish. But if you would prefer to watch, then I suggest you take a seat in the outer row.”
I glanced between the two. I didn’t want to leave him alone, but this was something I’d never get to see again.
A hand on my shoulder. I turned to see him smiling at me.
“Take a window seat, Gene. I can see you want to. It will only be a couple of minutes before we reach the surface.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I want you to enjoy your time here.”
“Ok,” I nodded. Then I headed toward the seats closest to the window and picked one that seemed to have a good view.
A few stragglers strolled in, then the doors closed.
I glanced around for a seatbelt, and was starting to worry that it was something I wouldn’t recognize. Then I noticed that nobody else was wearing anything or even seemed concerned about it.
I swallowed my nerves and hoped I wasn’t mistaken.
The drop was sudden, but I didn’t feel it. While part of me had expected a sensation similar to free-fall carnival rides, it almost felt like we were stationary and the scenery outside the capsule was moving. The docking ring of the elevator rose above us while the planet loomed ever-larger.
We were engulfed by the teal-green clouds—wash eddies forming as we passed through. Then the surface of Lyll spread out before us.
Whatever sci-fi vision I’d been expecting, Lyll wasn’t it. Instead of cities of gleaming towers, sprawling towns spread across the land, surrounded by farmland, and interspersed with what appeared to be blue forests.
“Wow…” I breathed.
One of the men next to me said something.
“I’m sorry,” I replied. “I didn’t catch that.”
He paused, then nodded. “Welcome to Lyll.”
I grinned. “Thank you.”
“You are human, yes?”
I nodded. “I am.”
He smiled, teeth white against mint-green skin, and inclined his head in a single nod. “It is an honor to have met you, however briefly. It is my sincere hope that our planets find our arrangement mutually beneficial.”
“Me too.”
The scenery outside slowed as we approached the top of a building that reminded me of the stem of a wine glass, narrow at the top, then curving to a wide base.
Darkness engulfed the outside of the capsule as we entered the building, then several seconds later, we came to a stop in what appeared to be some sort of terminal.
“Enjoy your time on Lyll,” the man next to me said as he stood.
“Thank you.”
He smiled, turned, and strolled to the exit.
I followed and met up with Eashai where the seats ended.
“Did you enjoy the view?” he asked.
I couldn’t help but smile. “It was incredible.”
“That is good to hear.”
We’d no sooner stepped from the capsule when the din of a busy terminal assaulted my ears.
Men of every pastel hue imaginable hustled through the building.
Many used the same levitating carts that I’d seen above—laden with bins.
Off to one side, a woman with four arms appeared to be tending some sort of bar.
I blinked. “I thought women weren’t allowed on Lyll.”
Eashai paused where he’d already taken several steps. “No, that is not the case. It is only human women, and only until we can guarantee that they will be safe to visit. It is our hope that one day there will be free travel for all between our planets.”
He chuckled. “However, there were many years during which females from other species were carefully vetted before being allowed to visit, as we did not want to be the source of another catastrophe.”
“Ah, I understand now.”
I glanced over to see him smiling at me.
A child’s voice called out what sounded like, “Mapo, mapo!”
Eashai’s head snapped toward the sound, and a grin split his face. “Naduq!”
He dropped to his knees, arms wide, as a sunshine-yellow toddler shuffled toward him. Two men followed closely behind, also smiling.
Eashai hoisted the boy into the air as soon as he reached him and spun around before pulling him to his chest and kissing his face.
I tried to hide my smile behind my hand, but a look from one of the other men told me I was failing.
Eashai listened intently for a moment to what sounded to be a mix of real words and baby chatter—nodding along—and while I didn’t know the words, the tone made me think he was responding like anybody would with a child that age: “Is that so?”, “Really?”, and “Tell me more.”
One of the men—dusty lilac in color—edged closer to me. “You are Bapo’s friend from Earth?”
“Bapo?” I blinked.
“That is our term for the non-birthing father.”
“Ah, I get it now,” I laughed. “You must be Eashai’s son.”
“I have been rude!” Eashai exclaimed. “Gene, this is my son Tolai,” he said, motioning to the lilac man with his chin, “and his mate Veeshen.” He nodded toward a man brighter yellow than the boy in Eashai’s arms.
Then he smiled down at the toddler. “And this is my grandson, Naduq.”
He looked up again and made eye contact with the other men. “Tolai, Veeshen, this is my friend, Gene.”
I stuck out a hand. “Pleased to meet you both.”
They stared at my hand, unsure what to do.
“It is a human custom,” Eashai explained quickly. “They clasp hands and move them up-and-down a couple of times during introductions.”
Tolai was the first to attempt a handshake. It was clumsy, but passable considering he’d apparently never done one before. Then Veeshen stepped forward and tried it as well.
“Humans do that when meeting?” Tolai asked as his mate stepped back.
“Introductions, important business agreements. It’s used in several situations.”
“All humans do this?” Veeshen asked.
I laughed. “All humans understand it, but it can vary by region. Where I’m from, it’s the norm, but, in some Asian countries, a polite bow is customary.”
“So much to learn,” Tolai laughed.