Christie Golden: Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets

K-TRONs , Valerian thought, feeling ill. K-TRONs under the command of whoever was heading that mission .

Valerian and Laureline could say nothing. What was there to say? It was too awful to comprehend.

“We are survivors, but that makes us witnesses,” the emperor said quietly. “Witnesses of the past that humans want to erase and forget forever.”

“We can forgive,” the empress said, “but how can we forget?”

Valerian and Laureline exchanged sick, sad glances. Then Laureline spoke. Her voice was raw, almost as if she had been crying. “So they… we… left you no choice but to steal the converter from us. Tsûuri hired a professional to do the job…”

“Igon Siruss!” yelped Valerian. It all came together.

“But,” Laureline continued, “zealous Major Valerian intervenes during the transaction, and retrieves the converter.”

“You’d exhausted all your options by that point,” Valerian said. “The only thing you could do to get the converter was to kidnap the commander and force him to tell the truth.”

The emperor nodded. “You know our story now. Our destiny is in your hands.”

The emperor motioned to his wife. Empress Aloi nodded and knelt beside the slumbering form of Commander Filitt. Gentle, even now, she ran a long-fingered hand over his brow. He woke with a panic-stricken start and leapt to his feet.

“Where am I? Men!” His gaze fell on Valerian. “Major?”

He rushed over to the two agents and put them between him and the emperor. “Major! Arrest these creatures immediately! They kidnapped me! They’re extremely dangerous!”

“They are Pearls from planet Mül,” said Valerian, coldly.

Filitt stared at him. Something flickered, frightened and ugly, in the depths of his eyes, to be replaced by the more familiar hardness. “Yes—they are. They told me their ridiculous story. But it’s impossible. Mül was uninhabited.”

Laureline scoffed, and pointed to the Pearls. “Their existence proves the contrary, doesn’t it?”

Filitt flushed darkly, and his expression grew dangerous. “There was no life on the planet, I’m telling you. The detectors were categorical. Arrest them—and that’s an order!”

Valerian’s eyes narrowed. “How can you be so sure?”

Filitt’s eyes slid away. “Because I—I read the reports, and—”

Valerian finished for him. “And you were on board.”

He’d seen his share of cornered criminals. He knew what would come next. Anger, justification, perhaps pleading.

Filitt did not disappoint. “Yes,” he snapped. “I was on board. And we had plenty more to worry about! Our cruisers were being decimated. We lost five hundred thousand soldiers in one day. Half a million of our people , Agent! It was complete carnage!”

Valerian shoved his face to within an inch of the commander’s. “And you were so preoccupied that you didn’t see the detector indicating signs of life on the planet.”

The commander looked confused.

“Or even worse,” Laureline put in, “perhaps you knew the planet was inhabited and deliberately sacrificed it.”

Too much had happened to Arun Filitt. He stared at the young agents, wondering how they had found him, wondering where he was, wondering what had happened. How it had gone so wrong. It wasn’t wrong, what he did, it was necessary. How could they possibly understand? They weren’t there, having to make decisions that affected millions.

And there had been no life on the planet. This couldn’t be real.

And yet…

The memory, until now distorted, revised, shoved away to the back of his mind, descended like a creature too long leashed and now set free—angry, and too powerful to resist.

“Engage fusio-missiles!” Commander Filitt shouted, screaming to be heard over the din of attack, the crackle and spitting of damaged equipment, and the screams of the dying. Through the cacophony of battle, somehow he heard Major Samk’s panic-stricken voice .

“Commander?” The major stood at his post, which was operating the detector that scanned for any and all forms of life .

“What is it?” The ship took another hit and everyone stumbled, clutching at chairs or consoles to stay on their feet .

“The planet is inhabited!” Samk shouted .

Filitt spared a glance from the hell manifesting on the viewing screens to look at the major. Samk’s eyes were wide and he looked distraught .

“We know, by primitive life forms!” Filitt snapped. Why was Samk wasting his time? People were dying on this ship, dying on the other hundreds of vessels in the fleet —

“No, Commander,” Samk replied, speaking quickly. “By sentient beings!”

Filitt stared at him. This wasn’t possible. That planet was uninhabited . Needed to be uninhabited…

You have to be quiet, Samk, he thought wildly . I can’t hear this. Not now.

But Samk pressed on. “I have detected a complex language and huge cerebral energy.”

The words galvanized Filitt into action. He strode to the major and snatched his badge. The detector abruptly ceased functioning .

“Major Samk,” he growled through clenched teeth, “history is on the march. Neither you, nor a bunch of savages can stand in its way!”

But Samk, apparently, was going to try. “It’s an intelligent species, Commander. I’m sorry to insist, but their DNA print is bigger than ours.”

“And so our victory will be twice as big.” The commander returned to his post. He did not waver. Staring out on the screen, seeing ships catch fire and be blown to bits—he hit the button that unleashed the apocalypse .

He watched with cold pleasure and a sense of justice done as the gigantic enemy flagship was hit, spiraled out of control, and crashed into Mül. He felt only the slightest twinge as the planet was wrapped by an explosion that cracked its blue-green orb into pieces .

It had been a pretty planet… but war had casualties .

A cold, hard, male voice jolted him out of the memory.

“So when you found out that survivors from planet Mül were living in the heart of Alpha, you decided to erase any trace of your mistake, rather than accept the consequences. Right?”

Filitt heard again his own voice in memory, now, as he watched the Pearls emerge from behind their wall. I want no survivors. Annihilate them all!

And the young captain, gone too. No voices left to speak against him. K-TRONs. Better than humans. No loyalty, no ideology, no judgment. Just programming, and obeying that programming. Simple. Clean.

“And you destroyed all evidence Major Samk had against you.”

No. He didn’t want to see this. But the speaker had said the words, and the images came, unbidden, and he was unable to drive them back into the safe darkness where they had dwelt for the last year.

He had overridden the lock on Major Samk’s door and entered quietly, so very quietly. He checked before he acted—a brief glimpse at the screen confirmed that Samk was, indeed, typing a report on what had happened above planet Mül.

It was a shame.

Filitt had lifted the muzzle to the back of Samk’s head and pulled the trigger.

“It was the only way!” Filitt exploded. The words of justification he had hoped he would never have to speak were ripped from him. He stared wildly at the two agents, whose faces might as well have been carved into stone.

“Don’t you see?” he pleaded. “Admitting to an error on this scale would have exposed our government to colossal damages and compensation claims. Our economy would never recover!”