18: WHEREIN I AM BRIEFLY UNCONSCIOUS

A Short Tussle

I remember Lajoolie holding me in the dark. I also remember fighting her, lashing out as I screamed and screamed. Under other circumstances it might have been an Interesting Struggle, revealing which of us was stronger. The blackness, however, proved the deciding factor — with no food in years and no light for photosynthesis, I rapidly exhausted the last of my energy reserves.

My only warning was a wash of dizziness, strong enough to cut straight through my frenzy. I attempted to say, "I am sorry, Lajoolie," but I do not think the words came out. Then my muscles went limp, and so did my mind.

Awakening

When I regained consciousness, the room was much brighter. The brightness came from dozens of glow-wands laid upon my body; someone had opened my jacket and stacked the wands on my chest, with more wands stuffed down my sleeves and others arranged along both sides of my legs. It was warm where they touched me — the pleasant heat of stones that have been baking under a summer sun.

I closed my eyes and basked. This light was not nearly so filling as the illumination in an Ancestral Tower — the towers were filled with many healthful energies far beyond the visible spectrum — but the glow-wands provided sufficient sustenance that I felt alive again… and I would get up very soon, after I had soaked in a bit more nutrition.

Someone said, "Did she move?"

The voice belonged to Sergeant Aarhus. When Festina and Captain Kapoor had headed in opposite directions, I could not remember whom Aarhus had followed. It dawned on me perhaps he had not gone with either party; perhaps he had remained unseen in the blackness, listening to Lajoolie and me speak. Was that not the behavior one expected of a zealous Security mook? Hiding in the dark. Keeping us under Covert Surveillance.

And what did he think we might do if left to our own devices? I asked myself. Did he fear we would damage a ship that was already broken? But perhaps Aarhus did not care so much about Lajoolie and me as he wished to guard baby Starbiter. The Zarett might provide our only way to call for help; therefore, the sergeant had posted himself to protect the child.

When I passed out, it must have been Aarhus who obtained these glow-wands. The sergeant would know where such items were stored; he would also be familiar enough with Royal Hemlock to find his way in the dark. I could imagine him staggering desperately through the blackness, mumbling to himself, "I must save Oar. I must save Oar. She is too beautiful to die."

I found myself wondering dreamily if Aarhus had fallen in love with me. After all, I was far more attractive than opaque human women… and far more charming as well, for I was not a mousy little thing eternally fretting about conformance with the dictates of society. Perhaps the sergeant sensed in me a Tempestuous Beauty who could never be Tamed.

Which is quite enough to make some men fall in love.

For a while.

Until something in the male head goes click and suddenly you are Just Too Much Trouble.

A shudder passed through me and I clenched my face in chagrin. All my life I had been most adept at devising delightful fantasies, pleasant reveries of Love and Romance. Why could I not do that now? As soon as I began inventing a tale of Aarhus in love with me, why did something in my brain bring the fantasy to a crashing halt: Foolish Oar, real love is not so carefree or so sweet?

Was this what it meant to have a Tired Brain? To find oneself unable to spin rosy dreams? To be constantly burdened by It is not so easy and You must not ignore certain facts ?

Most frightened, appalled, and desperate, I opened my eyes.

Quite Well Again

"Behold!" I said. I sat up and threw my arms wide, attempting to seem like a person not at all tormented by doubts. "Rejoice, for I have recovered! I am quite well again."

My motion sent several glow-wands tumbling off my body. Sergeant Aarhus rushed over to put them in place again. Sometime since I had fallen unconscious, he had removed his ostentatious mook-armor. Now he was wearing an olive-colored coverall, emblazoned with insignia patches I did not bother to read. My attention was more focused on the fact that he had rolled up his sleeves, revealing nicely muscled arms all covered with yellowish hair.

Though men of my own species do not have hair on their arms, I am not so prejudiced as to disdain extra epidermal embellishment. In the course of my relations with humans, I have discovered that hairy arms can be excellently cushy.

Before I could remark upon the sergeant’s pleasant pelt, Lajoolie knelt beside me. "Are you sure you’re all right? Why don’t you lie back down?"

"I do not need to," I told her. "And if I sit up, I can absorb light through my back as well as my front."

To do that, I had to take off my jacket completely As I did so, Aarhus averted his eyes; and for a moment, I felt a pang of concern, wondering if he was turning away because he did not like the way I looked when I was not covered by clothes. I told myself this could not possibly be — more likely, he suffered from overdelicate modesty, whereby he considered it rude to stare at my unclad flesh. Such a quality would soon vex me if he did not Get Over It… but in the short run, I decided to regard it as endearing.

"How are you all?" I asked in hearty bright tones. "Are you as well as I am? What has been happening since I began my perfectly normal nap?"

"Nothing much," Aarhus replied, still looking at the wall rather than me. "You’ve only been out for an hour. No one’s come by with any news, and Nimbus is still locked like a rock around his kid."

He jabbed a thumb at the chair where Nimbus had been sitting. The cloud man was still there, enclosing his daughter in the same quartz-like form as before. "Have you not even poked him," I inquired, "to see if he reacts?"

"No," Aarhus answered. "No poking unless the captain or admiral okays it."

"Hmph!" I said, thinking the sergeant’s attitude most mulish. I was halfway tempted to poke the cloud man in sheer defiance… but such antics would be most childish, and perhaps would make Aarhus think less of me. The notion of having him love me still played in the back of my mind; and although the rest of my mind derided this notion as a foolish dream idyllan Infantile Whim — I still found myself desirous of his good favor.

It is truly astonishing how a sane and clever one can be torn by ill-founded impulses.

"Now, Oar," Lajoolie said, "you really should relax." She laid her hand carefully on top of my head, precisely where ear-globes would be attached if I belonged to her species. I suppose that to Divians, this was a comforting gesture — or perhaps a means of determining one’s state of health, like feeling for a pulse. "Are you okay now?" she asked. "You went a bit… out of control."

"I was not out of control," I answered. "There is nothing wrong with my brain."

"You’re perfectly clear-headed," said Aarhus.

"Yes," I said, then realized he had been making a joke about my personal transparency. "But I am clear-headed," I insisted. "I am not dizzy, I am not Tired, I am not filled with irrational fantasies…"

The ship gave a sudden lurch. I looked at Lajoolie and Aarhus. "You felt that too, correct?" How We Were Found

Before they could answer, the ship lurched again. This time, there was no possibility of mistake. Aarhus was thrown against the cabin wall, hitting hard with his shoulder. Lajoolie lost her balance and toppled onto me… but I was falling sideways myself, striking the hard cabin floor with a resounding crack. (That was, of course, the floor breaking — I am made of sterner stuff than whatever substance underlies the carpets of the human navy.)