Shadows Chapter VI: Reciprocation

Author's note: the Ng'chrit'kee are a genderless species, as such, the pronouns "he" and "she" are inappropriate for them, as is "it," which is a gender neutral word, not genderless. So I have elected to take from the Turkish their third person pronoun "o" which also has no gender. I will use it for referring to any Ng'chrit'kee, and its possessive "onun" in place of "it" or "its."

As curious as I had been about the origins of the Ng’chrit’kee, Captain was likewise inquisitive concerning just how I came to be on that planet. They had detected no other spacefaring vessels in the system, and the planet below was not only uninhabited as far as they knew, but it was completely lacking in any land masses above water, so it was quite clear that a being with my anatomy could not possibly have originated from there. Not knowing the extent of their knowledge of cosmology – whether it extended to multiversal theory – nor their beliefs and attitudes towards magic, and having seen no indication whatsoever of the latter’s practice so far, I decided to at first keep my answers vague. I begged off as a traveler stranded by circumstance, and stated, truthfully, that, when they found me, I had been attempting to stay afloat long enough to find dry land, get my bearings, and find some way off that world.

A sharp individual, Captain noted my mode of dress wasn’t quite appropriate for space travel, and pointed out that it was quite clear from orbit this planet was completely covered in water – after all, that was what drew them here. O asked did I crash, or was I abandoned? There were no traces of and downed vessels picked up by their sensors, and any ship that might have marooned me was long gone, so my species must be very strong swimmers for me to have survived such a duration. I was clearly making Captain suspicious.

“How vast is the universe?” I asked.

O tilted onun head in a reflection of a human expression of bemusement and paused for a moment, clearly pondering why this sudden non sequitur, and whether o would choose to humor it.

“Why, it is boundless, of course. The space we trek is but a speck in its infinity. Why ask such a question? What does this have to do with your presence here?”

“Just bear with me, please. Is this universe expanding? Contracting? Is it in equilibrium? What shape is it?” I responded.

O nodded, clearly, as in Western cultures on your Earth, for the Ng’chrit’kee, this was also a gesture of assent, “It is none of those things – it just is. And how can something without bounds have shape?”

“How many dimensions are there?” I asked hesitantly, but thankfully the translation did not hold any of the ambiguity or misconstrual of that word as exists in your English language, as onun response indicated.

“Why, four, of course! The three that define space, and time. What a silly question – it is as if you are but a schoolboy.”

Thinking a moment before continuing to tackle the problem, I explained: “What if I told you that this universe, your universe, can be measured in more than just those four dimensions? That higher ones exist, with physical consequences therefrom? Consider such. Might not something that is infinite in the first three or four possess limitations in one or more of the higher dimensions, if not all of them, however many they may be? Would this not give that universe a shape?”

Captain was silent, cogitating my supposition. I let o do so, patiently waiting for some minutes before o finally nodded, “I suppose that is not too absurd an idea. Certainly not one I have ever before heard, but it does have merit.”

“Let us conjecture further, then,” I continued, “that if your universe is bounded in some dimensions, has a shape and limits, might that not bear the implication that it is not the only one, that their might be others?”

At this, o seemed truly phased. O turned away from me, and strode to the hexagonally framed window to stare out at the shining blue world below, and, beyond its curving horizon, the myriad gem-like stars beyond.

“Give me a moment,” o said softly, placing a hand upon the transparent surface as o gazed into, what had been to o a moment before, infinity. I gave o that moment. Shattering world views was always an uneasy task – one never quite knew how the broken party would respond. It was quite some time before o spoke again. The planet slowly turned beneath us, the only evidence of such the almost imperceptible motion of clouds being carried along.

“I think… I think I understand what it is you are trying to say. You are not just not of this planet…” o paused again, almost as if what Captain was trying to say choked o as o did so, “You are not of this universe. You are from… another… reality.” Like I said, astute.

Still giving room for o to sink in and process, I replied, quietly, succinctly: “Yes.”

The lights in the room, which had been nondescriptly steady up until now, suddenly dimmed, then flickered, and, just as suddenly, returned to the same unwavering brightness of just a few seconds before. If I hadn’t yet learned their facial equivalent of a frown, I did so now, and it was quite similar to my own, as o did such as o looked up at the ceiling.

Another few minutes passed before Captain spoke again.

“If that is so… how did you get here? No ship, no device of any sort except for the weapon and flashlight you carry.”

I started a moment at this before realizing they were plainly visible as I’d lost my coat in the ocean below. It hadn’t really dawned on me to think, until now, that my armament might be threatening, and now it was too late. But it seemed, by Captain’s casual mention of my firearm, not to bother them at all. O continued, not noticed my momentary startlement, “You must have had some method by which you got here. Was there some chamber in your universe that sent you here? If so, without one here, how do you plan to get home?”

As Captain spoke, the Ng’chrit’kee seemed to become more comfortable with the idea, and onun thoughts changed from jerking choked-off questions into a near rambling torrent, ending with the question:

“Where is your home?”

“Before I can answer any of your questions, we need to take this a little further,” I said. If those huge eyes could have gotten any bigger, they did. “If there are multiple universes, perhaps even an endless number of them, what makes each one different? What separates them? In some, it might merely be a difference in the flow of events – whereas in one, history went one way, in another, nearly identical universe, it went another. But what if the physical laws are different in some? What if in some, mythology in your universe is reality in theirs? Do your stories ever talk of people or beings who can do things beyond the laws of nature?”

Captain turned back to the window, contemplative.

“I think… yes, some. They are old, from before we were stolen to the stars. But, yes, of beings who could fly without wings, or light fire with their eyes. There must be more, but, the stories are old, and I am the captain of a ship, not a teller of tales.”

I joined o at the window. The Ng’chrit’kee seemed receptive to new ideas. “These things they do in your stories. In many universes, they are called magic, and, in some, are very real, very possible. That is how I came to this place.”

Turning those oversized eyes upon me, Captain looked me up and down, assessing me anew, before uttering a single chirp and returning his gaze to the majestic scene outside. The stars were painted with a roiling brushstroke of purple, a nebula that streaked across half the sky. Though it wasn’t the sky – sometimes one has to remind oneself of that when in space.

“Are those things possible here?” Captained asked.

“Some, I think. I’m not sure. I tried a little, down below, but not much. I do not know the extent, and it can sometimes be dangerous to experiment.” The diminutive leader placed a long thing hand on my elbow and I saw, though I had to look down to meet onun gaze, that hand was nigh as big as mine. And in the chirp-grunt-cough of onun species, o said: “Come now, you are still soaking wet, and ou must be exhausted and hungry. Let’s put you in some quarters, and get you dry and fed. Once you’ve rested, we can decide what to do with you.”

It had been said in such a way it was clear this was every bit as much an order as an invitation. I nodded, and allowed myself to be led away.

The room in which they left me must have been intended for visiting dignitaries. In contrast to the Spartan utilitarianism I’d so far seen prevalent throughout the rest of the ship, there wasn’t an inch of this chamber that didn’t speak of luxury. The floor was thickly carpeted in plush blue fibres. All with ebony surfaces, on one wall was a console, above which was a large screen, and next to it cabinets with silver press-plates. Also on that wall, I found a door-panel to open, revealing a private toilet and shower within. The bulk of the room was dominated by a rather large bed piled high with fluffy pillows, and soft, thick blankets, all in shades of deep blue, black, and silver to match the rest of the room’s décor. The bed was flanked by two closets on either side of its headboard, also with silver touch-panels.

I opened one of the closets to find towels within, while the other contained silvery jumpsuits of the style worn by the crew. The towels reminded me of my discomfort, so I grabbed a couple and made use of the shower facility. I didn’t find any controls for it, but discovered it operated automatically, as a warm spray immediately lept from the showerhead the moment I stepped inside. I only experienced a moment or two of discomfort when the temperature of the water fluctuated slightly before it steadied at a very comfortable level – not too hot, not too cold – just right. I imagined there must be hidden sensors that detected my body’s reactions to the water, and so the temperature adjusted accordingly. I rather thoroughly enjoyed the experience, which was interrupted only once by a brief flickering of the lights.

After drying, I tried on the tight body suit, and found it fit rather well. Though it did make me rather self-conscious in the way it accentuated everything – every line of my muscles, every fold of my flaws, every bulge and curve of my manly bits. I wasn’t a fan of it being all silver, either, though I suppose there were worse colours it could be – like orange.

Deciding that this time alone was as good as any, and that the less-than-desirable aesthetic of the suit a good opportunity, I felt it was time to test a little bit more of just what magics might work in this reality. I already knew at least some did from my exercise in the ocean.

Simple things first. The colour – I was able to change that from silver to black. Then I managed to add some pockets. But more radical transformations, such as into a pair of buckled pants and shirt, those seemed to cross the line. Even separating the suit into simple tights and shirt didn’t work. It appeared I could work alterations and enhancements, so long as they were additive, but nothing subtractive, and no outright creation. Well, that might make things interesting, especially when time came to part the veil and leave this world.

It didn’t take long to discern the operation of the screen, or to find channels of what passed for entertainment to my hosts. I burrowed into the blankets, and laid back to watch – if I wasn’t amused by it, at least I might find some education in how their society worked. The lights only wavered once before I dozed off. When I awoke, the screen was off – it must have sensors similar to the shower’s.

A chime sounded, and the front door silently slid open as I approached it. I almost took a step back in startlement when I saw my caller – I could not helpy but stare into onun eyes – unlike the other members of onun species I’d so far seen, they had no whites, no apparent irises, no pupils. They were just solid bulging black orbs, disturbing in appearance. O spoke before I could regain my composure, the table o carried translating:

“The captain has requested your presence to break your fast.”

I nodded, and followed behind, wondering all the way if those eyes were normal, or whether there was something wrong with my guide. I began to suspect the latter, as more than one Ng’chrit’kee did a double-take as we passed, and I’m sure their eyes were more on o than on me.

Upon arrival at the Captain’s quarters, my suspicions were confirmed, for as soon as Captain laid eyes upon my escort, onun expression clearly changed into what I imagined must be their species’ equivalent of a frown.

“Thank you, Bosun, you are dismissed. However, I require that you report to Medical to have those eyes examined,” o commanded.

The Bosun half-bowed, immediately spun around, and walked away without a word.

O shook onun head as if to clear it, then looked to me: “Welcome. I am glad you came. Come, enter, sit, and let us eat and talk.”

We sat, at comfortable high-backed bucket-like seats that melded to our differing shapes as we filled them, on either side of a circular metallic silver table with rounded edges. The fair presented was plentiful, colourful, and… interesting. Not bad, mind you, but not like anything I’d had before. Certainly the combinations of textures and flavours were nothing of which any Earthly chef would conceive. But they worked, and were not unpleasant. I could even imagine myself growing fond of them.

Our conversation rambled as we learned about each other. As implied in our earlier discussion, they did indeed share their space with several others species, and there were a few ships with mixed crews. But by and large, each sentient species zones of comfortable conditions were just different enough to lead to a preference for ships crewed by one species only. That way each vessel could establish perfect environmental conditions for its respective crew. On the ground, things were different. Colonies and cities were much more mixed, though some species did need environmental suits in order to live or do business in some places, like an aquatic species o mentioned, and one that breathed methane and apparently somehow originated in the clouds of a gas giant. I didn’t try to puzzle that one out. The Masters weren’t the only hostile species with which they had to deal, but between the warships they’d seized from the Slavers, and those of the other species with which they shared space, they managed to defend themselves well.

I inquired about governing bodies – how they managed to prevent conflicts amongst species and worlds, and o started to say that the differing species largely governed themselves, but then stopped to correct onun self.

Starting over, Captain explained.

Even before they had been forcefully brought into space, the Ng’chrit’kee had ascertained that the source of almost all conflict was inequality – one person or group having more of something that another either needed or wanted – it could be land, water, gold, anything - or one group perceiving another to be inferior for one reason or another. So they concluded that, if you could remove, or at least minimize inequality in all forms possible, then virtually all conflict could be eliminated. And with the reduction of conflict, so too would be reduced the need for laws, and governance designed specifically to prevent or respond to it. In effect, all individuals would be more free with inequality abolished. These ideas had been so ingrained in their society before they reached the stars that they’d had virtually no government before – Ng’Chrit’Kee had freely shared their excess, and treated each other on merit rather than prejudice.

With their freedom from the Masters, and their meeting, and sharing, of space with other species, they shared these ideals, and most of the other sentients agreed. But they recognized that with the more radically apparent differences in species, and the differing natural resources of worlds and star systems, a little more governance was required than the Ng’chrit’kee had needed in their land-bound past.

So the major species sat down together and did two things. They drafted a bill of rights granting all individual sentient beings certain rights:

The rights to free expression, freedom of movement, and assembly, the freedom to self-defense and the right to due process of law. They guaranteed freedom from discrimination of any kind save ability, freedom of privacy, and freedom of and from religion (the Ng’chrit’kee had argued against this last one, as they saw religion as nothing more than a means of manipulation, but one of the other sentient races, the Farinsei, was devoutly religious with many different sects, and their arguments for that right won out).

To protect those rights, and prevent inequality, they established a court with the authority to oversee any grievances brought before it. Here, if a person or group felt themselves injured, either by someone discriminating against them, or attempting to lever force or wealth against against them, they could make themselves heard. In cases of prejudice, were they proven, the offending party would be required to allow to the wronged party whatever it was they’d been seeking in the first place. In cases of force, different judgements were made depending on the situation. In cases of miswielded wealth – the offending party’s greed would be punished by distributing equally their wealth among both parties. The orders of the court, when resisted, were backed up by the militaries of the respective species. In this way, while individuals were allowed to accumulate wealth to some extent, it never piled up too much in the hands of a few, and those who did manage such were unable to exert undue power with it.

Beyond their Bill of Rights and their Court of Equality, each species was guaranteed the right to govern themselves as they saw fit, though each was required to promise to field a military of a certain size relative to their own numbers, for mutual defense and support of the Court. Some species governed themselves as loosely as the Ng’chrit’kee, others, as the devout Farinsei, much more strictly.

In all, the system seemed to work quite well. Or at least it had for almost 10,000 years.

I found Captain’s explanation fascinating, and wondered if their system would work in any human dominated reality.

“I have told you much of my peoples. Let me hear more of you,” o said.

I thought back to Shanima. Perhaps the lessons in history and politics had brought her to mind.

* * *

It hadn’t taken me long to fall in love with her. The woman’s strength of will and keen intellect, coupled with her insatiable thirst for knowledge and unshakeable poise in almost all situations proved to make a combination I simply could not resist. And her deep compassion for others just sealed the deal. On that first meeting, she’d grilled me for hours after her class on how I managed to appear out of thin air, from where I’d come, and the intricacies and varieties of the many worlds.

I actually did have some sort of business to take care of on her world – I’d even been there before – but I can’t for the life of me remember what it was now. I suppose it’s no longer very important. Not so much as she.

I saw her several times during my visit to her reality, those visits transforming from discussions of the scholarly kind to encounters more romantic. We had a candle-lit dinner on the end of a pier above softly lapping waters whose mirrored black surface reflected the blazing nebula of a nearby exploded star. We walked galleries decorated with the hanging art of her peoples, telling a history hundreds to thousands of years old. We made love in a hidden corner of a giant garden, built of much bevined columned tiers, one level above another, but each accessible by easily walked spiraling terraces, each level itself divided into sections with meandering hedges and streams that lept from terrace to terrace in lively little waterfalls. Flowers bloomed brilliantly everywhere. By the end of my stay. She decided she wanted to travel with me, to see some of those other realities of which I’d told her. My heart hers, I could not say no.

And so we travelled together, for a time, and it was good. We visited many wondrous world, and saw many marvelous things. I avoided realities that felt like they might be too dangerous, for her sake as much as mine, not wanting to expose her to the harms that had cost me loved ones in the past.

But no reality is without danger, and it comes in many forms, just as harm can be done to things in other than just the flesh.

No world taught me this better than that of the Two Tribes.

It was a hot, dry world, with twin blazing suns in the sky by day, and brilliant twin moons at night. In all directions, as far as the eye could see, the land stretched from the village of Those Who Stayed, a barren red expanse broken only occasionally by a flat red mesa, or a toothy spire of equally rusty rock. Not a spot of green was anywhere to be seen. Within the village lived a small, foxy-looking people, their bodies covered in a fine auburn hair that always stood on end. On the outskirts lay crumbly tilled fields with pathetic brown shoots feebly reaching for the sky. The air was constantly filled with a taste of dust and rust.

They seemed a peaceful people, resigned to the hardship they faced in attempting to eek out a sustenance from this dry, almost lifeless wasteland.

Shanima felt for them, and wondered to me aloud whether there wasn’t anything I could do for them. Since Tik-Tarale, I had avoided interfering too much in the affairs of others, and she knew this. But with those big brown eyes, she pleaded with me, and, for her, I could not refuse. I felt the world around me. I opened myself up and let it all in – its heat, its air, its life and its death. Its magic. And magic did it have. It flowed in the air in great currents, and through the ground in great raging knotted torrents. It was everywhere and it suffused everything. I found it a wonder that Those Who Stayed didn’t feel it, too, that they didn’t make use of it. This was a magic strong, and powerful, one of mere will that didn’t need incantations or rituals, or really even gestures. One merely had to reach out and “grab” it, and will it to do one’s bidding.

And so I did.

I reached for those ribbons of mystical energy, felt them, pulled them in, let them flow through me, become a part of me. And then I changed them, and by changing them, changed things that were.

First one of those roping rivers belowground became a real river, water gushing beneath the town, the land’s life blood. The thirsty soil drank of it deeply, and the rust red deepened and became a healthier dark brown. Then shoots of green stabbed upwards from the soil and grew, waving as they reached higher and higher towards the sky. Soon, where before all was a parched red, the town had a carpet of lush green grass, and bushes, trees, and other flora surrounded us on all sides. The fields turned from sickly brown to living green and the crops grew taller than a man’s head, with plump, rich looking fruits, nuts, and other forms of seed hanging heavily from their limbs. The air cleared of dust and filled instead with sweet fragrance and moisture that one could taste on the tip of one’s tongue.

Around me, and next to me, Shanima and the fox-people marveled at what they saw unfolding before their very eyes. And before I was done, I made a fountain of water spring forth from the ground in the very center of town, and I tied off knots in the ribbons of magic to ensure this town would never again go dry, nor would the flourishing growth ever die away. These people should never want for food or drink again.

When I finished, Shanima threw her arms around me and rained kisses upon my face. I couldn’t have been more pleased by her reaction. Those Who Stayed gathered in close around, each eager to touch me and ply me with thanks for the bounty I’d summoned.

We stayed with them for three days and three nights, the whole time a veritable festival. It seemed all was right in the world, and nothing could ever again be wrong.

It was in the middle of the third night that They Who Left returned. They had seen the green arise from afar, and immediately began their trek towards it. With each passing day, their jealousy grew – it was not right that Those Who Stayed found bounty falling into their very laps while Those Who Left trekked and sought it in the wasteland, never finding it, instead surviving off meagre catches of the hunt. And so they became angrier day by day until they arrived on the third night.

On that night, they slew everyone in their sleep. Everyone but Shanima and me. I suppose they excluded us as outsiders, but I am not sure. But when we awoke, it was to a town of corpses. Those Who Stayed were all dead, and Those Who Lefft staggered about the streets, visibly ailing, their breaths coming in rapid, shallow gasps. One by one they fell to their knees, and then to their hands. I ran over to one, demanded to know what had happened, and he explained, though growing weaker by the moment. I pulled for the magic to try to cure him, or to at least extend his life, when I noticed something I had not seen before.

There, visible only to the eyes of those who could touch the magic, before me I saw a cord leading from this dying fox-man of Those Who Left to the cooling corpse of one of Those Who Stayed. I looked up and around, taking in all those around me, and every one of Those Who Lefft was paired to one of the dead Those Who Stayed by a fading, feebly pulsing cord.

By the end of the day, they were all dead.

Distraught, Shanima was in tears. She couldn’t believe the travesty unfolding before her eyes. What was the point of this senseless slaughter? How had our compassion ending up reaping only death? She begged I take her home, back to the schoolhouse she’d left behind. Once there, she begged me to leave. She could not handle it – not that, not for a time. She still loved me, she said, but she needed me to go.

Heartbroken, again, I did.

* * *

Sympathizing, Captain reach across the table to put onun hand on mine. Our breakfast had been long since consumed.

“We shall be putting into port at a space dock soon, to take a look at these power fluctuations of the past day. You are welcome to stay and travel with us for a while, if you like. Or you can debark there and find other passage. Whatever you do, I hope you find whatever it is you seek, and that our universe is kinder to you than some of those you have left behind."

I nodded, and thanked him.

I supposed I had a decision to make.

The story continues in Chapter VII: Watched.