Christie Golden: Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets

“What?” Laureline stared at him aghast. He was moving quickly now, following the prods in the back of his mind, and she was struggling to keep up.

Turn here , the inner guidance said.

Valerian obeyed—and the two agents found themselves at the foot of a huge wall. In contrast with the derelict nature of the rest of the surroundings, this barrier looked new and imposing, comprised of large plates of some kind of matter completely unfamiliar to Valerian. As he and Laureline stared at the wall, the plates moved, shifting and overlapping.

Then things grew even stranger when, without warning, a figure—tall, willowy, pale, and quite beautiful—stepped through the wall, to stand gracefully in front of them. Moments later, four others joined him, all beautiful, all luminous and apparently benevolent.

“Pearls!” gasped Valerian.

“Okay,” Laureline said, in an admiring whisper, “that’s not at all how I pictured absolute evil.”

“My name is Tsûuri,” said the first one who had stepped through. He was looking at Valerian with a strange expression—half-longing, half-eager. “I am the emperor’s son.”

“Great,” said Valerian. Two emperors in one day . Emotions were churning inside him, and he knew that some of them weren’t his emotions at all. He was struggling to stay in control of the wave. “How about you introduce us to Daddy?”

“He is expecting you,” said Tsûuri. “Follow me.”

He turned and vanished through the wall. Valerian hesitated, stepped closer, and reached out.

His hand went through the wall.

He squared his shoulders. “Try to contact the general and get everybody down here,” he said to Laureline. “Meanwhile, I’ll try to buy us some time.”

“Uh-uh,” Laureline said, tossing her head. “How about you run backup for a change?” And without another word she strode resolutely through the wall.

Valerian sighed. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, and followed his partner.

He emerged to find Laureline and Tsûuri waiting for him. Inside, everything was completely different from the austere outside landscape and the moving wall. He tried to make sense of what he was seeing, but wasn’t sure he could even find the words. The closest comparison Valerian could draw was that he stood inside an enormous zeppelin, but its curving, ribbed walls were made not of cold metal, but of organic matter. Large, woven baskets of some sort adorned the walls, looking like they had been crafted from twigs or grass. He wondered if they served the Pearls for sleeping containers, and thought of the beautiful shell houses of his dream.

There were several Pearls present, and it was clear the ship was modeled to be what its people were—simple, in touch with what came from nature, and at the same time highly advanced. Tsûuri led them through this ship that had become a village. All turned their pale, kind faces toward the pair and inclined their heads in welcome. Some bore weapons, deceptively primitive in design, that were surely much more than they seemed to be, but no one made a threatening movement toward the two humans.

Still others clung to the walls, strong and lithe, reweaving, mending, caretaking with a calm and pure focus. Tsûuri led the way to what seemed to be the center of this “village.” Valerian noticed a few small vessels, like the ones he had chased. Nearby, what appeared to be extremely sophisticated machines were hooked up together to create another, even bigger one.

In the center of the village was something that both he and Laureline recognized from their history lessons.

It was the Destiny module, once a primary research lab that had been part of the International Space Station in the Earth year 2001. In many ways, it was the true and perfect center, and origin, of Alpha Space Station.

The Pearl emperor sat in the capsule’s tailpipe as if it were a throne, but he was the most casual, accessible royalty Valerian could imagine. Even more handsome than his radiant son, he smiled gently in welcome. Beside him was a stunningly beautiful female Pearl. They clasped one another’s hand, tenderly, familiarly, and Valerian knew instantly that whatever age these beings were, they had been in love a long, long time.

Then his eye fell to a straw mattress on the ship’s floor.

Commander Arun Filitt was sprawled, unmoving, at the emperor’s feet. From this distance, Valerian couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead.

“I present to you my father, the emperor,” Tsûuri said solemnly.

“My name is Haban-Limaï, and this is my wife, Aloi,” the emperor said. His voice was as beautiful as he was, as everything here was, and Valerian shivered at the sound.

The empress’s face lit up with joy. “Melo hiné! We are so pleased to welcome you here.”

Valerian’s gaze darted again to Tsûuri. The movement did not escape the emperor’s notice. “You ran into my son this morning, I understand,” Haban-Limaï observed.

“Briefly, between bullets,” Valerian responded.

Haban-Limaï looked at Tsûuri with great affection. Then he said, “My son sensed the presence of his sister, Princess Lïho-Minaa.”

He turned his mesmerizing, deep blue eyes upon Valerian. His cheeks suffused with a soft, luminous pink hue. “It seems she chose you.”

“What do you mean?” Valerian asked.

Sorrow flitted across the elegant features. “We are a long-lived people, but not even a star can shine forever. Or a Pearl. At the moment of our passing, we release all the energy left in our body in the form of a wave, which travels through space and time. We cast our memories, our souls, all that is when the body is no more, out into the universe. Sometimes, the wave crests and dissipates alone in the cold darkness. But not always. Sometimes it finds a benevolent host.”

He paused, and then said, “My Lïho-Minaa chose you to be the guardian of her soul.”

“Ah,” Valerian said softly, in wonder. Then he said to Laureline under his breath, “I told you!”

The empress had risen. Tears swam in the azure glory of her eyes. Her cheeks, too, were a soft warm rose. She stepped toward him, her tan and orange robes fluttering with the graceful movement. “My daughter…”

Valerian panicked for just an instant as the empress reached out long-fingered, slender hands and slipped them around his. Then, suddenly, everything in him that was little and petty, insecure and self-centered, fearful and angry, seemed to simply dissolve. Calmness filled him. He breathed in and out, and it was the ancient rhythm of every sea pulled to the shore by the sweet song of its moons, every mother’s kiss on the beloved child’s brow, every kind laugh, every soft sigh, and the vast twinkling of every star.

For the first time in his energetic, tumultuous life, Valerian tasted peace.

He felt her stir within him, summoned by her mother’s longing words, and Empress Aloi took a quick breath. Laureline was staring at him—no. Not at him.

At Princess Lïho-Minaa.

“Oh, my dear one… I am so happy to see you,” the empress… the mother whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

As am I , came the—words? Thoughts?

“Same here,” stammered Valerian. “I mean, she is, too.”

The empress’s full-hearted smile turned slightly playful at Valerian’s words, and she released his hands. He dared not look at Laureline. Not yet. One of the Pearls brought them drinks. Laureline and Valerian accepted the beverage, but did not drink.

The emperor raised his glass. “To my daughter’s memory!”

The two humans paused with their drinks at their lips. Valerian pointed to the commander. “If we drink with you, should we expect to suffer the same fate?”