Topaz Sky

Soledad said it was safe and that we needed food.

           Commander Otero stepped forward with hesitation, remembering her ancient history: Horado thought entering the chasm was safe too, and look what that got her.

           “We’re almost there; I can smell it,” said Soledad with an exaggerated wrinkle of her stubby, slightly upturned nose. The astrobiologist looked eager, each step bouncing higher in the planet’s low gravity. Otero smiled as her young officer’s colorful alien garb flowed around her long strides like flower petals in a summer breeze, a vivid riot of blood and grass and sea. And she smelled like summer rain.

Ah, the smell of excitement. I had almost forgotten, reminisced Otero with a tinge of sadness.

A swirl of dust greeted them, and tears streaked their sweat-sticky cheeks. As they grew nearer the alien market, a breeze wafted through the baking topaz sky. It carried an oddly familiar pungency like the musty rot from deep in your navel. Commander Otero breathed it in deeply, not for enjoyment, but for its familiarity, and rubbed the grit from her eyes. When her hands came away, her eyes filled again with a cacophony of color that rivaled the prisms in Carmina’s laboratory aboard the Lazaro. The colors were so loud they hurt. Sunset-emboldened topaz faded to frosty sapphire, blazing tourmaline, and blood-soaked garnet.

Soledad gasped. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

On all the worlds to which they had traveled, nothing compared to the sight before Otero and her crew. Her head throbbed as her virgin eyes adjusted to the scandalous sight.

And the sound . . .

“Dear God, what’s that?” whispered Carmina.

They shared anxious glances. The wailing suggested torture and reminded the commander of the time the Lazaro had been struck by an asteroid. The screech of ripping, twisted metal had made her vomit then, and she felt the urge again now. She could taste the sharp, acidic bitterness in the back of her throat as they pressed forward.

Is it a religious sacrifice, or maybe a ritual of some sort? Otero suspected it was the latter by the rhythmic swaying and hand-beating of the alien observers, but she tried to put it out of her thoughts. Her crew was hungry and tired, and the last thing she cared to deal with were sadistic aliens.

“I’m not sure what it is. Let’s just get what we need and get back to Lazaro,” Otero ordered. “We can recommend that the Space Council send a ship of sentient-specialists here another time. Our mission is complete, and it’s time we got home.”

Carmina and Soledad nodded in anxious agreement, but Otero was saddened by the excitement that drained from Soledad as they moved on. Until now, it had buoyed them in a strange and unfamiliar sea.

The vibrant jeweled colors of the market pulsated behind curtains of hot atmosphere as they marched tentatively through the dusty air. The oily musk of the market coated their tongues and nostrils like rancid butter. Otero squinted through the raging colors searching for something that looked familiar, edible.

“There,” said Soledad pointing. “Those aliens are congregating around those . . . things.”

Commander Otero turned in the direction of her officer’s sight and choked on her gasp. Monsters! she thought before she could stop herself. Heat filled her already scorched cheeks with shame. I should know better than to react that way, she scolded herself, but stress always exposed her basest instincts, a weakness the Space Council had ignored to push through her promotion.

“Commander, I think those are creatures.” Soledad gulped. “And I think those aliens are competing to consume them.” The disgust in her voice was evident. It made Otero feel a little better about her own slip.

“Perhaps, but can we consume them? Unless we find an alternative, those things may make the difference in our survival,” Otero said trying to sound brave. She couldn’t stomach the thought of eating the mephitic monstrosities. Their long bodies writhed as their scaled armor shimmered like opals in the blistering sunlight. A coat of slime eased their undulations and a susurrus like falling glowworm silk either dampen or accentuate their desperate demise, Otero couldn’t decide. The salty aroma of too-warm dying flesh filled the marketplace, and Otero watched as Soledad covered her stubby nose in disgust. Another oversight of habit by the Space Council, thought Otero.

The stocky aliens surrounding the writhing beasts shouted over each other with fist-fulls of dull golden discs waving angrily in the pungent air.

“Can you understand them?” Otero asked astrobiologist Soledad.

“No, but it appears to be an auction, of sorts. That large male—I think that’s what their second gender is called--is competing with that smaller male to acquire the mon . . . er, the creatures. And he appears to be winning.”

A platform of soft, mossy vegetation overturned when the big male pushed the smaller male out of his way. The weed’s spicy aroma was a brief but welcome relief to Otero’s weary nostrils. Before long, several other males joined the fracas, and blood and sweat rained down on the overly-interested onlookers.

“Perhaps we should look elsewhere for sustenance,” suggested Otero. She had read about planets with dual or even triple genders and their inherent violent tendencies, and the last thing she wanted was to entangle her crew in an alien gender-role dispute. Their training was dedicated to non-sentient lifeforms, not this.

Soledad and Carmina’s wide-eyed nods suggested they were eager to comply.

“What about those?” suggested Soledad.

Sunset-colored fingers piled high on a make-shift platform beckoned them. Their aesthetically peaceful arrangement felt inviting and more familiar. Stacked next to them were blood-hued globes that shone in the hot sun. Their slightly soapy, spicy aroma sent saliva surging through Otero’s parched mouth. She longed to caress their smooth, shiny surfaces and bite into their ripe flesh, but the stern-looking woman standing nearby gave her pause.

“These might work,” whispered Soledad gesturing to the blaze of color lining the elevated platform.

“Very well, fill you biosacs, and let’s get back to the Lazaro,” Otero ordered. She couldn’t help making furtive looks at the angry mob behind her. Their shouts and heated exchanges were escalating. Perhaps food is scarce on this planet, she considered in an attempt to excuse the alien’s behavior. Peace was a trait her people emulated, and shows of aggression always made her anxious, especially in an alien culture. There was no telling how it would turn out. That was partly why she chose non-sentient research as her specialty. There’s no need to reason with a blob of algae, chuffed Otero.

Carmina and Soledad joined her with biosacs filled to the brim with spicy, rainbow-colored sustenance.

“We’re ready, Commander,” said Soledad. A hint of excitement had returned to her mossy eyes.

Success is the ultimate drug, Otero thought with a half-grin. Now let’s get out of here before . . .

A throaty roar came from behind them. It was the woman from the jewel-stacked platform, she was gesturing their way. Instantly, the males near the squirming, opalescent beasts came to attention. Their animosity shifted with startling velocity towards Otero and her crew. Fever burned in their eyes.

“Commander, I . . .” said Soledad, but Otero cut her off.

“Not now, we need to get out of here – fast!”

“This way,” shouted Carmina. Her slate-colored full skirt slowed her run, but the athletic science officer had already determined the quickest way back to the Lazaro. Otero saw it too. They would weave their way through the narrow lanes of this small village and hope to lose the angry mob.

The dry, dusty path danced before them in the sweltering heat, but their urgency (and Carmina’s impeccable navigation) paid off. The shouts of the mob receded with each twisting turn. Spring phlox and ochre walls lined their escape. It’s like running through an impressionist painting. Otero might have thought it pleasant if not for her crew’s sour reek of desperation.

“Wait,” shouted Soledad, holding her arm outstretched. Her blood and grass and clothes were dimmed with dust. Around the corner, angry shouts echoed off the pastel plaster walls and then faded as they flew by.

Lazaro’s crew waited.

“I think it’s safe,” whispered Soledad after a while.

I’ve heard that before, grimaced Otero, but kept her disingenuous thought to herself.

“Carmina, can you get us back to the ship?” asked Otero.

Sweat and fear coated the science officer’s face. “I think so, Commander. She’s just beyond those hills,” she gestured with her dimpled chin, “but I suggest we wait for the cover of dark.”

Otero saw the logic in waiting, but she couldn’t bear another moment on this hostile world. “We’ve been here too long. We got what we needed and now it’s time we returned to the Lazaro. It will be difficult, but I trust you can do it.”

Again, Soledad and Carmina nodded in compliance. Otero wanted them to argue with her decision, to make them braver than her. She shrunk in shame as she falsely accepted their misplaced trust. If only they knew it’s fear guiding me.

“Go!”

Within seconds, a rumble of footsteps locked in behind them. The ground and air and Otero’s confidence shook seismically with the pounding pursuit. There seemed no escape. Dust and grit scraped her burning throat, and her orders erupted in hacking barks.

Ahead, a dark doorway beckoned them.

“In there!” Otero whispered hoarsely.

They dove into a cool, cavernous room. Oily smoke from stubby candles flickered in the room’s gentle breeze. The air tasted rich from the passing of time. A peaked ceiling receded into the darkness and beckoned Otero, like the peacefulness of the night sky before her first space mission. Hazy soot-coated windows lined the walls. They must be ancient, she thought as she strained to see through centuries of flowing glass. Again, a cacophony of color: amethyst, twilight, topaz, spring grass, and blood.

And more violence.

Figures impaled on spikes, figures suffering bone-weary starvation, figures being crucified. Otero tasted acid-bitter bile in the back of her throat for the second time that day. And the realization hit her like an asteroid.

I was wrong. Those creatures writhing in the market weren’t monsters. Here are the real monsters, she thought as she forced herself to look at the glowing scenes embedded in the room’s windows. She had learned about planets whose histories described eras of bloodshed for the sake of conquest or beliefs, but she had never had the misfortune to encounter one, until now. Her flesh puckered as a wave of repulsion and fear crept down her spine. Her throat tightened like it did when she was a child and Mother Ru scolded her. Salt burned her eyes for the suggestion of lost lives.

“Astrobiologist Soledad, what did you say was the name of this planet?” whispered Otero. She wanted to make sure they flew clear of it in the future. If these aliens ever took to the stars . . .

. . . she feared what would become of their universe.

The rustle of Soledad’s skirt preceded her reply. “Commander Otero, I believe it’s called Earth.”