9. Carter

NINE

CARTER

T he flywheel and the security door became the dual mysteries that formed the pillars of my research. And yet, I spent very little actual time working on either of them.

There were more practical considerations. When the water purification system went off line, for example, I spent three days straight getting it turned back on, completely forgetting my so-called pillars.

I also spent a lot of time with the Photonic flute. I'd created hundreds of images of Arael in the intervening months, preserving many with a photonic memory chip. The ones which were safe for viewing by outsiders decorated our home. The majority of my portraits of Arael were for our eyes only.

Arael took to bringing my lunch to me at the Sage's tower. We would often eat together, and talk about our respective days. We also spoke often of the devices I worked with. Often, she would provide some small but clever insight which helped me solve the mystery, or at least make it somewhat clearer.

One day she entered the workshop while Igno and I had the flywheel suspended from a pulley system. I set down the bundle of wires I held and went to her. My heart soared as I tasted her lips.

She put her hand on my chest and gently pushed me away.

"You're embarrassing Ignio. It's not the Flowering Flood time, after all."

I'd heard several mentions of the Flowering Flood. From context, I knew it to be some sort of celebration. I could have asked someone, or looked it up in the sages' databases, but it always seemed something more important had to be done.

She jutted her chin toward the flywheel.

"What are you doing?"

"We are attempting to connect the flywheel to our central processing unit. However, the lack of any sort of ports to attach them physically has proved most vexing."

She cocked an eyebrow at me, and then walked to the flywheel. I could tell Arael had that look in her eye again. The look of a profound insight dawning in her clever brain.

"This was designed not to have ports for a reason. Maybe it connects without a need for wires? Like the device you use to open our skylight on warm days."

Wireless technology. I should have thought of it myself.

I picked up a scanner, a much cruder Masari version of a compad, and ran it over the flywheel, searching for possible connections. I found one and linked it up to the scanner.

The dark lights on the control panel flashed into brightness. The flywheel spun slowly, making a light humming noise.

I read the output on the scanner and grew excited.

Warm up diagnostic complete. AT Field generator functional. T ap zero for main menu.

"It's working," I said in a whisper. "It's working!"

"I can see that," Ignio gasped. "What does it do?"

"I have no idea!"

I laughed and kissed Arael deeply.

"Thank you, my sweet."

"How can we know what this device does?" Ignio asked.

I turned halfway about to look him in the eye, still holding Arael.

"I do not know. The device requires an interface the scanner cannot provide. I will have to create a control console just to access the primary functions, and even then it might be months or even years before…"

I laughed, and shook my head.

"It's going to be an exciting time."

I kissed Arael again. Our hands lingered together as she parted. Ignio favored me with a smile when I returned to him.

"You have a marriage blessed by the Architects," he said, using one of the Masari terms for the Precursors.

"Perhaps I do."

Project Blue Dawn, the Alliance, Earth, aliens…it all seemed so far away. I no longer thought of the Masari as alien.

The realization should have triggered my panic, and forced me to double down on my hard line beliefs. This time, it did not.

My xenophobia, which I used to couch in such logical terms, now seems utterly farcical. I was wrong to work with Earth First and Project Blue Dawn.

Guilt rolled in over my soul like an angry storm cloud. I spent the rest of the day going through the motions while my insides roiled. I'd never really felt that what I did was wrong before that moment.

Now I couldn't turn my face away from the reality of my deeds.

I excused myself from the workshop and walked home, feeling numb. Masari passing me on the street nodded, and some even smiled. Gro was more popular than I had ever been. Why was that?

Mostly because I haven't been acting like myself.

The realization hit me like a hammer square in the forehead. I covered my face with my hand—Gro's hand—and squeezed my eyes shut as I trudged home.

All that time I thought I fought the good fight for Earth First, and really I was on the side of the devils.

These Masari are not so different from humanity. We look different, but on the inside we're really the same.

How could I have been so blind?

I made it through the door. Arael took one look and realized I was upset. She came over to me and put her arms around my waist, staring up at me.

"What's wrong?"

I put my hand on her cheek, moisture welling up in the corners of my eyes.

"Arael."

I gasped out her name like a religious man giving a testimonial.

"You're a brilliant, clever, strong, and caring woman. And you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen on this or any other world."

A smile stretched her lips and she caressed my forearm.

"You make my heart soar with your sweet words."

"That's my point." I took her by the arms and looked deep into her twilight gaze. "You're far too good of a woman for me. I'm a villain, Arael. I thought myself to be on the side of right, but now I realize I'm not a good man, and I never have been."

She shook her head and put her hands on my face.

"That's not true. You are a good man. You contribute your own earnings to the Shunned. You work tirelessly to uncover more knowledge to improve our way of life. And…"

Her voice dropped lower, and her eyes grew warm and glassy.

"You treat me with gentle kindness. I'm glad that Gro got hurt. I'm glad that your soul came to dwell in his body. I hated him. But I love you."

I flinched as if I'd been slapped.

"No! No, Arael. You can't love me. I was part of a group who only wanted to destroy or subjugate everyone different from us."

She cocked an eyebrow.

"You told me you never killed anyone before."

"Not with my own hands, no. But I was there when it happened."

I turned away from her, holding my head in my hands.

"The walls of my lab were thin. Next door was the biology center. They experimented on aliens, and if the experiment required pain, so much the better. You could hear them crying out for mercy."

"But you didn't do anything to them."

"I didn't help them, either. I just plugged my fingers in my ears and sobbed, because I couldn't stand to hear their screams…"

Tears slid down my cheeks freely now, but I no longer cared.

"I was weak. Everyone else was so much stronger. The screams never bothered them. I was always weak. Weak physically, weak mentally. You deserve a real man."

I felt her hand on my shoulder. She insistently pulled until I turned around to face her.

She stood on her tip toes and kissed the tears on my cheek.

"What was that for?"

"I love your tears."

I sniffled and shook my head, confused.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I love your tears, because they are proof that you are a good man. A bad man would not shed tears for the pain of others. You were misguided, your anger and hatred turned to the ends of people you never even liked, let alone truly agreed with."

She held me tighter, pressing her cheek against my face.

"The Architects must have known you did not belong in your old world. That's why they sent you here."

"I…"

My gut twisted into knots as conflicting emotions battled within.

"I have to go home."

"Gro, or Kar-tur, or whatever name you want to be called, don't you see? You are home."

I held her tight against me, burying my face in her hair. It had grown past her shoulders, long enough I sometimes braided it for her.

"Yes. I am."

Our lips met in a kiss. No more words needed to be said, though our house was far from quiet.