Lawrence Schoen - Barsk - The Elephants' Graveyard

“Absolutely. Why don’t we go see him right now?”

“Sure! But…” he swiveled on the table until he could see into the tiny transparent room. Jorl stood inside, working with all kinds of stuff like Arlo used to do. But it wasn’t Arlo, not any more. He was sure of that and wondered where he’d gone.

“What about Jorl?”

“He’s busy at the moment, doing a favor for the senator. They’ll talk later. Right now though, it’s your turn. Come on.” She reached out with both arms, her hands still buried deep in her sleeves, and slid one under each of his arms to lift him up off the table and lower the boy to the floor.

Pizlo waved his trunk in farewell to Jorl, but the older Fant looked to be too focused on whatever he was doing. If he was doing it for the senator, and the senator owned this whole ship, then maybe it was really important. Pizlo looked up at the Sloth. He smiled at her and gripped the edge of one of her sleeves with his trunk and they walked out of the lab together.

* * *

FROMthe lab they followed an arcing hallway a third of the way around the ship. The Brady pressed one hand against the threshold and paused like someone was talking to her. Pizlo couldn’t hear anyone else, but maybe it was like when things back on Keslo spoke to him and neither Jorl nor Tolta heard. When she took her hand away the door whooshed open. The room beyond was darker than the hallway. Standing at the entrance, Pizlo could see only silhouettes of a table surrounded on three sides by a heavy couch, some counters along two walls, and a big desk at the back of the room with someone seated behind it. Druz ushered him inside.

He squinted, his eyes adjusting to the dimmer light even as the illumination increased. He saw rugs on the floor that looked like grass. The sofa was dark brown and the table a polished green stone. The counters were white plastic like so much of the ship, but now he could tell they had cabinets in them. The desk was more of the same green stone; the man behind sat in a big chair and he had thick horns that grew out from either side of his head.

Pizlo had never seen a Bos before, but he knew that’s what the man was and knowing that made him smile. One of the moons had told him about Yaks. And then he remembered more, the specific Yak that had been mentioned, and as he remembered the rest he began to wail.

Bish winced as he came around his desk. “Druz?”

“My apologies, Senator.” The Brady crouched until her face was on a level with Pizlo’s. “Hush, Little Prince. You’re safe here. Everything is fine.”

Tears streamed from his eyes and he would have shamelessly wet himself if there’d been a drop in his bladder. This was the man Telko had spoken of, the glaring hole in the galaxy, lost to everyone in a way that no one had ever been before. It was so horrible, how could his friend just stand there, let alone attempt to comfort him?

A new thought flittered through his mind as he continued to moan with despair. Abomination . The clear and certain wrongness of the Yak merited no other term, the word others had whispered about him for as long as he could remember. Was this what people saw when they looked at him?

Druz continued speaking to him, soft words of reassurance with little content. She brought a three-fingered hand to his chin and raised it up to stifle his cry. He didn’t resist.

“Did I frighten him? He’s just a boy, and a Lox at that. Perhaps he’s never seen so much as a picture of a Bos before.”

“Yes, sir, I suspect that’s it. And he’s had a rough day of it. But I think he’s over his shock, aren’t you, Pizlo?”

He stared into Druz’s round face, and relief washed over him. She and the Yak were talking, like they were both ordinary people. How could that be, unless … the galaxy was still whole and the man hadn’t become an abomination yet!

“Yes. I … sorry. I was remembering something scary. I thought it had already happened, but I was wrong. It’s okay.”

She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “That’s my brave prince. Now let me introduce you more properly. This is Senator Bish, chair of the Alliance’s Committee of Information.”

Druz stood up, and a moment later Senator Bish came closer until he loomed above Pizlo. Despite his odd appearance, he looked friendly and wise. Pizlo took a deep breath and released his grip on the Sloth’s sleeve. Was this someone else who was going to actually talk to him? He was afraid to get his hopes up, especially if Telko’s warning would come to pass too soon.

“Hello.”

Bish didn’t answer him, glancing to the Brady instead. “So, according to your reports, this little fellow is a precog?”

“His stature is the only thing small about him, sir. His cortical readings are easily a match for the most skilled among the committee’s precognitivists. As he matures, and with proper training, I would expect his abilities to increase beyond the range we currently measure.”

The senator smiled down at him, his expression not unlike the look Tolta sometimes wore when he showed her the newest acquisitions in his bug collection.

“Is that true, young man? Do you see things that the people around you don’t see?”

Pizlo frowned and shook his head. “No, sir. My eyes … they’re not very good. But I hear things that others don’t. I talk to things that they can’t.”

“Really? Why don’t we sit and you can tell me about that. Would you like some cocoa?” The senator gestured to Druz, who slipped away to fetch a tray from a counter. The Fant crossed over to the couch. Though his arm was working again, his hands still weren’t. He had to half-jump half-climb to haul himself up onto the high cushion. By the time he had settled in, the Sloth had placed a tall mug of vanilla cocoa in front of him on the table and the senator stood alongside him. Pizlo leaned forward and dipped the end of his trunk into the mug, filling it with cocoa and transferring it to his mouth.

“That’s a sight the Alliance has been spared for a great many years,” said Bish. With a bob of his head he pointed a horn at Druz. “Your attention is needed in the lab. Come back when you’ve resolved things there. I can entertain our young guest in the meantime.”

“Yes, sir. I will see you again soon, Little Prince.” Her clothing twinkling, his friend left the room.

“How is the cocoa?”

“Good. It’s better than Tolta’s.”

“Who is Tolta? Is that one of the things that speaks to you and not others?”

Pizlo laughed and nearly snorted cocoa. “No! Everyone talks to Tolta and she talks to them right back.”

“I see. Then who are the ones who only talk to you?”

“Lots of things. Like the trees and the water and the clouds. And every once in a while, I get to talk to a moon.” He remembered the circles he’d drawn and slapped his chest with one bandaged hand. “See?”

“You talk to moons?”

“Mostly I listen. They teach me things. Jorl does that, too, but that’s different, ’cause I can’t go to school.”

“Hmm, no, I imagine a precog would not be a good fit among other school children. Not even on Barsk.”

“What’s a precog?”

“Someone who can see pieces of the future. It’s a very special gift.”

“Wow. I wish I could do that.”

“Isn’t that what you do?”

Pizlo frowned. “Things just talk to me.”

The Yak laughed and raised his own mug, smiling as he sipped the cocoa.

“Do you know what a metaphor is, son?”

“Does it have grass?”

“No, it’s when you talk about one thing as if it were something else.”

“Oh. Metaphor.”

“Sometimes we tell ourselves metaphors, to help us comprehend parts of the world that don’t make sense to us. Do you understand?”