Christie Golden: Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets

The faces only grew harder, more judgmental. They were willfully choosing not to understand. His voice rose in desperation.

“In one instant, we would have lost our supremacy, our leadership . There would have been immediate sanctions, and it’s a pretty good bet we would have been banished from Alpha—the very station we created , dammit—and been deprived of access to the galaxy’s greatest market of knowledge and intelligence. Is that what you would have wanted for your fellow citizens?”

Filitt looked from Valerian to Laureline, and found no sympathy there.

He did not dare look at the Pearls. He could not permit himself to think of them as anything other than obstacles to humanity.

“Is it?” he pressed. Spittle flew from his mouth. “Leading them into ruin and degradation? Forcing them to go a thousand years backward? The Council saw fit to protect our fellow citizens. First and foremost. Is that not its duty ?”

He thumped his chest hard as he said, “And mine? And yours ? Isn’t it, agents? Or would you rather we risk wrecking our economy for the sake of a bunch of…” He wheeled on the emperor, looking at him with a mix of loathing and resentment, words failing him.

“Savages?” offered Laureline.

Filitt wheeled on her. “Sergeant! You are totally under the influence of this creature! Don’t confuse the issue. He’s the threat! He’s our enemy!”

The emperor, still impossibly patient, stepped forward toward the commander, placing his forefinger on the man’s chest.

“You are your own worst enemy, Commander,” he said compassionately. “Unless you make peace with your past, you won’t have a future.”

The commander backed away, dazed by the emperor’s words. No. He was wrong. He had to be. The only way for humanity to be safe, for himself to be safe, was if this problem went away now. It could. It almost had. He had almost wiped them from the universe’s memory.

He could still do it. “Major!” Filitt barked. “I order you to arrest this man. Do you hear me?”

“Can we talk man to man for a second?” Valerian asked.

Slightly wild-eyed, Filitt turned to stare at him. “What?”

The punch came so swiftly Commander Arun Filitt didn’t even have time to blink.

The commander crumpled to the floor. Valerian winced and shook his aching hand. He’d put a lot of feeling into that blow.

“Good talk,” he said to the unconscious form. He turned to the emperor. “Look, this was fun, but we need to report back to our people. Here. This is yours.”

He took out the pearl and handed it to the emperor. He stared at the tiny, perfect orb nestled in his palm, then closed his fingers around it and lifted shining, grateful eyes to Valerian.

“We’ll make this right,” Valerian assured him. “You have my word.” He glanced back down at the commander and a smile quirked his lips. “Let me take this guy off your hands.”

As he turned, he noticed Laureline speaking with the empress. The Pearl’s eyes were full of tears, and Laureline was reaching into her belt. Her hands came out holding the converter.

“Hey!” Valerian shouted. “What are you doing?”

Laureline said, as if it were self-explanatory, “You gave them the pearl. They also need the converter.”

“I know, but—” He turned to the emperor and gave him a smile that was more like a grimace. “Will you excuse us a second?”

Valerian marched over to his partner, grabbed her arm, and steered her away. “Listen,” he said, keeping his voice low, “the converter is government property. And most likely it’s the last one in the whole universe.”

“Oh,” Laureline said, her eyes narrowing in anger, “so you buy into the commander’s what’s-mine-is-mine-and-what’s-yours-is-mine philosophy? Is that what you’re saying?” “No,” Valerian shot back, stung, “I ‘buy into’ my oath of allegiance! We have no authority to hand this over to the Pearls.”

“Valerian, the Federation messed up and must make amends.” Laureline was adamant.

“I agree, but that’s not for us to decide. We have to leave it to the courts.”

He knew Laureline well enough to know when she was hanging onto her temper by a thread. Right now, that thread snapped. “They’re eighteen light years away, Valerian! Only we can make this right!”

He pressed his lips together tightly. “Laureline, I’m a soldier. I play by the rules. It’s what makes me who I am.”

There was a long pause. The righteous anger faded from Laureline’s face. Then she said quietly, a trace of sorrow lacing her words, “You see? That’s why I don’t want to marry you. Because you don’t really know what love is.”

“Come on!” exclaimed Valerian, fear making his words sharp. “This situation has nothing to do with love, or even you and me!”

Tears glistened in Laureline’s eyes. “That’s where you’re wrong. Love, real love, it’s more powerful than anything else, Valerian. It’s more powerful than rules and laws. More powerful than any army or government.”

She looked over at the empress. “Look at her,” she said, her voice full of admiration. “She had her whole people and one of her children taken from her, and she’s prepared to forgive. That’s love. It’s the trust you place in someone.” Laureline turned back to him. “And I thought I could be that someone. That… that I could be the most important thing in your life, Valerian.”

“You are,” Valerian said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I’d die for you.”

But that was not the right answer. Laureline shook her blonde head, frustrated. “You don’t understand. I’m not asking you to die for me. I’m asking you to trust me.”

They stared at one another. Her face was radiant with intensity, with longing—a yearning for connection. Valerian wanted very badly to be what she needed. To really understand what she needed.

Finally, Valerian said, hesitantly, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“No,” Laureline said bluntly, startling him. “But I know that if a whole race is wiped out because you have no faith in me, I’ll never be able to look at you again.”

And then, Valerian understood. Trust. Of course it would be trust, wouldn’t it? Courage, loyalty, even love— he could give those easily. But he had known betrayal, and trust—real, perfect trust—came harder to him than anything else.

But he trusted Laureline.

Valerian nodded tentatively. “All right,” he said at last. “Give it to them.”

Laureline smiled. Not with her lips, or even her eyes, but her whole face—her whole being—lit up like a sun. And Valerian knew, whatever happened, that he had made the right choice. She wiped at her eyes, then stepped forward and kissed him.

Her lips were warm and soft, and there was something sweet and powerful in that kiss. Valerian felt dizzy and clear-minded all at once. He had trusted Laureline, and now she had offered him a kiss that was stirring, sweet, unguarded, and absolutely real. He melted into it, offering himself up to her in the same way, and when she pulled back and whispered, “Thank you,” it was all right. She was Laureline, and he trusted her.

She held the converter in her arms, and walked over to the empress. With a final, farewell pat, she held the little creature out to Aloi. It chirped and squirmed happily as it ducked its head under the empress’s throat.

“Here,” Laureline said. “We are to blame for the loss of your planet. We would be honored to help you get it back.”

“Melinama!” said the empress, tears in her own eyes as she embraced the converter.