They Cannot Scare Me with Their Empty Spaces

Short Story

"I was a doctor specialising in Silicate medicine. The world is more complicated than you think. You are young. You see the world clearly, yes?"

"Yes," I said. Although, as I have mentioned, I don't see things very clearly at all. But the Vilicus did look familiar. "Did you look after my Gran?"

"I had a lot of Silicate patients. What was her disease?"

"Respiratory fissure."

"Yes. A terrible disease. I treated many Silicates for that. Maybe even your grandmother. This world takes a toll on you."

"It's better now that the Vilicus have gone," I said.

"I'm glad to hear it. No more disease, eh?"

"Well, we do have some. Quite a lot really and not so many doctors. Perhaps you could help . . ." That was stupid. They'd kill him if he set foot in Horde City because of what he was. The Vilicus had been our oppressors, except this one hadn't. He'd helped us, maybe he'd tried to help my Gran.

"So what are you doing here in the desert, Private Lat?"

"I have to kill a dozen scorpials."

"Aha." Alim shuffled from foot to foot. There was an awkward lull in the conversation until he said. "Do you like poems?

I shrugged.

"I have one for you:

They cannot scare me with their empty spaces.

Between stars - on stars where no human race is.

I have it in me so much nearer home.

To scare myself with my own desert places."

"There are no Terrans on Charmed Rock."

 "No," said Alim. 

But I knew that wasn't the point of the poem. It was another thing that was beautiful and that I didn't understand.

"Come," Alim said. "Come and see the Zyxlar."

 "They're all gone." I knew that much for sure.

Alim led me to a cave. Silver trees of metal shone on the walls. And in the centre of the room were a dozen sealed jars of all sizes. They were made of that strange alloy called Zyxlar metal, they shone reflecting rainbows from the scant light. "I couldn't get them safely off-world. These are their remains. I honor them." Alim bowed low to the jars.

He must have spent a decade underground, alone, protecting the remains. I didn't know what to say to him, but I felt respect.

Alim led me back to the cave at the bottom of the shaft. "So what's happening on the outside? How are you Silicates getting on without us?"

 "It was difficult at first," I admitted. "But now the Thoknar Protectorate guides us."

Alim clapped his hands. "That explains why you are hunting scorpials. This is good news."

"Why's that?" I asked. 

"The protectorate will be trading with the Vilicus."

I shook my head. "They would never trade with our oppressors."

"Have they asked you to bring back the scorpial head jewels?"

"Yes."

"They're a valuable Vilicus trading item."

It was confusing. Why would the protectorate trade with the Vilicus? That would be a betrayal of everyone on Charmed Rock, everyone who had died in the uprising.

"But what should I do about you, Doctor? They didn't tell me what to do, if I found a Vilicus." I didn't want to kill him. Perhaps I should just report him to the sergeant.

Alim patted my arm. "You don't have to do anything, Lat. I will contact the protectorate and once they realize what I have, they'll put me in contact with the local Vilicus. Then I will be gone."

"They won't do that," I said, stubbornly refusing to believe it.

"Come back when you've killed all your scorpials. I'll be gone, my friend."

#

And when I returned, it was like he'd said. The doctor was gone and so were his jars.

#

I returned to Horde City. Sergeant was pleased with me, especially when I volunteered to set up squad to hunt down more scorpials.

"Good," he said. "The protectorate wants the mines opened as quickly as possible."

"And who will they trade with, Sergeant?" I asked.

He looked down the papers on his desk. "They trade with whoever's got money. It's nothing for you to be concerned about, Private."

"Yes, Sergeant."

#

I was back in Horde City where sewage ran raw in the street, and children picked over the rubble.

I gave Kaza the set of polished claws, and she smiled at me.

The squad treated me to a night out. They bought me more oozel than was good for me. I told them all my stories about the Empty Lands. But I didn't tell them the story about the old Vilicus and his jars of Zyxlar metal hiding in the desert.

Because I have learned that honesty is not the best policy.

I raise my glass. "All glory to the Thoknar Protecorate!" I shout so loudly that I almost believe it.