CHILDREN OF SARJALIM

by Angela

 

Wednesday, Day Ten:

 

After more than forty-eight hours of studying her patient, Ayame wasn't sure which incarnation was more enthralling.  She remembered her few nights with Shukkaido: the fluid way in which he moved, his light limbs encircling her as she slept.  His face was particularly vivid--quiet and gentle, but always sparkling with curiosity or laughter.  Sometimes she wondered if there could be another person in the universe as captivating as Shukkaido.

 

But then she saw Kasama Haruhiko, who looked like an angel beneath the cold lights. 

 

She hoped his waking self would live up to his beauty, that he'd really understand this friend of his who refused to leave his side.  Mikuro spent hours without speaking to anyone, his hands clasped around Haru's still fingers.

 

She glanced at the regeneration tank, where the new organ was steadily growing.  It was half-finished; with each passing day that Haru stayed strong, his chances looked better.  She wanted him to pull through--not only so that she could get to know him, but also to erase the look of pain on Mikuro's face, to ease the tense minds of Hiiragi and the others who took turns hovering outside the door. 

 

Hiiragi.  Daisuke.  She wanted to talk to him, to explore the strange connection she'd felt with him from the first moment he'd charged into her medic room.  Ayame's gaze shifted to Mikuro's hunched figure.  He knew to call her if anything changed, and she deserved a break.

 

She found Hiiragi in the library.

 

"Ayame."  He didn't look up for more than an instant, sipping tea as his eyes moved across the pages of the book.  It was a history of her home planet--educational but dry.  "Any change?"

 

She shook her head, sinking into the chair across from his.  "No.  Things are coming along in good order."  His eyes seemed to falter over the words and she felt the need to encourage him.  "He can't feel anything right now," she promised, covering his hand with one of hers.  "The coma keeps him in a suspension, of sorts."

 

Hiiragi was quiet for a long moment.  When he spoke, Ayame was surprised that it wasn't about Shukkaido.  "We're a lot alike," he said in a distant voice.  "Both carbon-based organisms, both from planets rich in water and oxygen.  In fact, our DNA is almost identical, isn't it?"

 

Ayame was puzzled.  "Less than a single percent difference," she answered, shaking her head.  "Why do you ask?"

 

Hiiragi was thoughtful.  "How can that be?  Convergent evolution?  Mixed gene pools?  Our planets are light years apart and yet we're almost identical--how could this happen?"

 

"Sarjalim."  Ayame smiled at his youthful face, enjoying the way his dark hair brushed his forehead.  "Often, when science fails to give answers, Sarjalim can."

 

He almost laughed, and for a moment Ayame was indignant and strangely embarrassed.  "What?" she cried defensively.  "Doesn't your planet believe in Sarjalim?"

 

He smiled, surprising her by standing suddenly.  "We don't have the same name for her, but yes, we do believe in Sarjalim."  He closed his book and looked at her intently.  "But on Earth there is a line between science and religion.  They have little to do with one another, really.  What you call Sarjalim's will, we seek scientific answers for."

 

What a strange boy this Hiiragi/Daisuke was turning out to be.  "Are we finished in here?" she asked, motioning toward the stack of books on the table.

 

He nodded, offering his arm as he led her out of the library.  "I expect a tour of your workspace," he suggested in mock seriousness.

 

She slid her arm around his, surprised at how quickly she succumbed to the happy feeling that came with being near him.  They passed Hinagiku in the hallway outside; Ayame managed to ignore the dark look he cast her way.  He had warned them to keep their distance when it came to these young people from the planet, to maintain a professional cool when working with them.  It wouldn't do to become attached, he'd suggested meaningfully.  For Ayame it was already too late.  She'd already fallen half in love with her patient and his loyal boyfriend, she'd developed a surprising rapport with the quiet girl, Mokuren, and somehow she couldn't seem to learn enough about their attractive young captain to keep satisfied.

 

A few minutes later they passed through the quiet medical room.  Shukkaido had more visitors; Mokuren and the sweet-faced boy called Enju whispered softly to one another at the bedside.  Mikuro had fallen asleep again; his head lay near Shukkaido's pillow.

 

"Do any of you have sway over that one?" Ayame asked Hiiragi anxiously.  "He needs regular sleep in his own bed."

 

He shook his head.  "He's Shukkaido's friend and answers only to him."  He shrugged helplessly.  "No one else really knows him."

 

Ayame nodded.  Maybe a few more days like this wouldn't hurt the young man.  Sometimes it seemed more harmful to send him away.  She led Hiiragi into the back rooms and through a passageway to her makeshift lab.  The laboratory originally had been part of the ship she'd arrived in--an airtight extension connected it to the lunar research station.

 

Hiiragi seemed impressed.  He turned slowly in the strange blue light, surveying all her equipment and supplies.  A computer screen glowed with a live camera image of Shukkaido's growing heart--she had been running tests on its advancement that morning.  He paused in front of a glass door--the refrigerated sample closet.  Getting a nod of permission from Ayame, he opened it.

 

"A DNA library," he said quietly, his eyes scanning the names on the vials.  "You must have close to a million here."

 

"One point five million, to be precise," Ayame said proudly.  "The best and brightest from our home planet.  We took samples before leaving--apparently the conclusion to the war had been foreseen."  They both fell silent.  For a fleeting moment Ayame remembered her mother, how happy and eager she'd been when she learned that Ayame had been chosen for such an important mission.

 

Hiiragi turned suddenly to a second door, peering through the window with undisguised curiosity.  Ayame knew what he saw.  RGCs--Rapid Growth Capsules--one hundred twenty of them in twelve rows, stacked like bunk beds.  She used the same technology in growing Shukkaido's heart--the same hormonal solution and electric pulses--except the capsules could grow an entire person in a matter of weeks.

 

"I see you come equipped with your own clone pods," Hiiragi said darkly.  "Perfect for building an army."

 

Ayame stiffened.  "We prefer 'Rapid Growth Capsules,' if you don't mind.  You might not remember, but your terminology is offensive."  She bristled over his army comment, but refrained from saying anything.  She didn't know how much of him was separate from Hiiragi; Daisuke Dobashi's outlook might have nothing to do with what happened to her home planet.

 

Hiiragi turned away from the door, running his hand through his hair.  He studied the computer monitor for a long time, watching the thump of his friend's new heart.  "Why are you working so hard to save him?"  His voice was low and his eyes glued to the monitor.  "What's the point in saving the life of an Earthling?"

 

His words startled her.  In the time they'd spent together, he'd never been anything but friendly and courteous.  She'd actually thought he might like her.  "What are you saying?  I'm a doctor--helping people is what I do!"

 

He looked up then, his face stony and distant, his voice cold.  "I've been studying your science," he explained slowly, "studying Hiiragi’s logs, too.  I know your mission.  I know your plans for my planet."

 

She took a deep breath, steadying the rapid thudding of her pulse.  She'd assumed he’d known the whole time--it wasn't kept a secret from the captains.  "Hiiragi," she began in her most soothing voice.

 

"Daisuke," he corrected shortly.  "I know all about the colonization; your mission is to overrun my planet with clones of your own people."  His voice was quiet, but accusing.

 

"Colonization, yes, but certainly we're not planning to overrun your planet.  There are plenty of open spaces--the western part of North America or northeastern Asia, for instance.  My planet is gone, exploded into dust and asteroids, and we are the only ones still alive to make sure that Sarjalim's people live on!"

 

Hiiragi snorted.  "You mean clones of Sarjalim's people, right?"

 

Ayame was livid.  "Don't use such a vulgar word!  It's coarse and rude and I don't want to hear it again.  They are genetically engineered individuals.  Not 'clones.'"  His word tasted foul in her mouth.  How could this boy even begin to judge her work, her entire life?  He knew nothing of how it felt to be the only hope for his culture to survive. 

 

He glared at her, his cheeks flushed and demeanor cocky.  "I'm only saying how I see it, doctor," he said calmly.  "But before you start shuttling all of your 'genetically engineered individuals' down to my planet, maybe you should read some of Gyokuran's notes on Earth culture and population.  You might see that the planet has more than enough to deal with on its own."

 

He turned on his heel and left.  Ayame felt battered, as though her argument with Hiiragi--Daisuke, as he clearly preferred--had been a physical brawl.  Slumping into her chair, she let the rhythmic thumps of Shukkaido's heartbeat lull her.  She thought of the fragile boy and his loyal bodyguard.  She thought of Daisuke's handsome face flushed with indignant rage. 

 

She reached for the computer.  With a few quick keystrokes, she found the data gathered almost eighteen years before about the nature of Earth.  Scanning the file names, she searched for Gyokuran’s input.

 

*****

 

Sakura could just kick herself.  She yanked her cloak more tightly around her shoulders and trudged through the dim hallway.  What had she been thinking, leaving them together like that?  Now Jinpachi was acting weird and Issei was avoiding her.  It was as though she'd given up and thrown Enju to the wolves!  She clenched her hands into fists, thinking of the profound look on Jinpachi's face, the painful eagerness on Issei's.  It was Gyokuran and Enju all over again, and Sakura had practically shoved them into each other's arms, getting all flustered and leaving them alone like that.

 

A more rational part of her remembered that they'd been alone plenty of times before--Issei had kissed him for Sarjalim's sake--and nothing had ever come of it.  But the moon had a funny way of getting into their heads, blurring the lines between lifetimes.  More than once since arriving, Sakura had found herself thinking of herself as Shusuran, calling Alice Mokuren and Daisuke Hiiragi.  They'd switched to Earth names such a long time ago--she found it strange to revert back so suddenly.  It was unnatural for them to be there, existing in the place of those who died.  It was getting hard to tell which thoughts and memories were hers and which belonged to a previous incarnate.

 

She wanted to talk with Issei.  She wanted to find out what happened and what had been said between them.  She wanted to know if she still had a chance with him.  So far the opportunity hadn't revealed itself--at breakfast he'd been fast in a conversation with Nadeshiko, then he'd gone with Alice to visit Shukkaido.  She hadn't seen hide or hair of him since.  Sakura's eyes narrowed suspiciously.  She hadn't seen much of Jinpachi either.

 

Before her mind could jump to the unwelcome image of Enju and Gyokuran entwined as lovers, voices around the corner stilled both her mental ranting and her footsteps.

 

"I'll have the formula perfected by midnight.  I've run tests using the boy's DNA--it looks like our speculations were accurate.  He's completely susceptible."  Nadeshiko's voice was hushed but eager.

 

"We can program a resilient gene into all of our DNA?"

 

Nadeshiko must have nodded, because Hinagiku continued.

"Perfect.  How many samples do you have?"

 

Sakura peered around the corner into the library room.  Hinagiku sat at a table, books and papers spread in a wide semi-circle around him.  Nadeshiko hovered behind, combing his long chestnut hair with her fingers.  Their backs were to the door, giving Sakura the opportunity to observe without being noticed.  She breathed as quietly as possible, trying to calm her pounding heart.  A gene resilient to what, exactly?

 

"Just three for now," Nadeshiko answered, pausing to pull a vial from her coat pocket.  "The other two are in my lab.  They can be duplicated very quickly, once we find the right formula."  She handed the tiny bottle to him and continued twisting and playing with his hair.  "I've run countless simulations on the computers and managed to prevent mutations, so far."

 

Hinagiku tilted his head back to look at Nadeshiko.  Sakura ducked behind the wall, afraid she'd been noticed.  "Computer trials are beneficial," he said slowly, "but an actual test would be priceless.  Do you have a vaccine prepared?"

 

She laughed.  "I never mess with plagues without a quick antidote.  But how would we explain the sudden death?"

 

"If they all die, we won't have to," he answered in a confident voice.  "But if we manage to isolate it within the boy, then I'm sure we can make them believe that his own condition killed him."  For a long moment Sakura heard only her own breathing.  When Hinagiku spoke again, his voice was gruff.  "It's to Sarjalim's glory that we dedicate this first sacrifice."

 

The scuff of his chair against the floor and the flutter of papers made Sakura jump, poised to dart back down the hallway.  New sounds made her pause, and she risked another peek into the library. 

 

They were kissing.  And more.  Nadeshiko had somehow climbed onto his lap and now sat astride him in a very passionate embrace.  Sakura almost closed her eyes as Hinagiku deftly unhooked the long row of buttons down her blouse.  "Anyone could come in," Nadeshiko protested in a low voice that sounded more excited than hesitant.  "Shouldn't we go back to your room?"

 

Together they stood, not breaking their kiss.  "Too far," Hinagiku explained roughly, pushing Nadeshiko's lab coat from her shoulders.  He made a short gesture to one of the soundproof study rooms.  "In there."

 

Even after the heavy door slid shut, Sakura couldn't move, stunned.  This was the second time she'd caught a Sarjalian having sex.  Wasn't that supposed to negate their powers?  She shook her head hard, focusing on the more pressing matter of the vial on the table.  Whatever that stuff was, she couldn't let them inject it into Shukkaido.  Without thinking of the consequences, she sprinted into the library and snatched the small, cold bottle.

 

Halfway back to her room, she paused to catch her breath.  She looked curiously at the tiny vial.  It held about a milliliter of thick, yellowish serum.  Whatever it was, she'd have to be careful--it sounded potent.  She wondered if the equipment still worked in the old laboratory she'd had Shion set up for her.  It was far from the main labs and medical rooms, so it was possible that Nadeshiko didn't even know of its existence.

 

She slid the vial into her pocket.  Her most pressing task was to replace it with a vial of sugar water or saline--anything that wouldn't hurt Shukkaido.  If Hinagiku noticed it was missing, she suspected that they would all become test subjects very quickly.  Figuring that his romp in the library might be a short one, she ran the rest of the way to her lab.

 

*****

 

Mokuren shifted nervously in the marble hall, adjusting the white lace of her gown and trying not to pace.  It had been an important week for her: first came the news that she had been chosen for an important data-gathering mission, then out of the blue, her mentor, whom she'd never met face-to-face, had announced his intention to visit.  She could hardly contain herself.

 

Almost no one had met Hinagiku.  He was one of the most powerful Sarjalians alive, and yet he lived like a hermit, keeping to himself almost completely.  He wrote many letters, including long, educational letters to Mokuren her whole life, but no one had ever published a photograph of him or seen him in public.  The fact that he was coming to meet her, to speak with her in person for the first time in twenty years, was the biggest honor she could imagine bestowed upon her.

 

When the door opened, Mokuren jumped, startled.  Then she smiled.  He was exactly as she'd pictured him--small and ancient, with white blond hair curling on the top of his head.  His eyes were kindly and he moved slowly.

 

"Mr. Hinagiku," Mokuren greeted him graciously, bending her knees in a deep curtsey.  "It's an honor to meet you, sir."  Her hands were trembling as she reached out to shake his.

 

The old man smiled.  "Never so formal, Mokuren-dear.  Haven't we been friends for a long time?"  He took her hand with both of his and squeezed gently.  "You are even more lovely than I pictured," he said proudly.  "I feel like I have a beautiful daughter to show off."

 

Tears sprang into Mokuren's eyes.  She hadn't realized that she'd been waiting her whole life for this moment.  Impulsively she sprang toward him, folding her arms around him in a warm hug.  "It's so wonderful to finally see, you," she whispered fiercely.

 

"I see the introductions have been made."  A male voice startled Mokuren.  She stepped back, automatically smiling at this new visitor.  "Forgive me for intruding," the young man began politely, "I'm here with Master Hinagiku."

 

"Come in, boy.  Come in."  Hinagiku ushered him into the hall with gentle familiarity.  The old man turned to Mokuren.  "This is my apprentice, Kiku.  He was wise enough to know that I ought not travel alone."

 

Kiku smiled and shook Mokuren's hand.  She smiled, already taken by his beautiful eyes and friendly face.  His hair was long and reddish brown--he wore it braided and draped over his shoulder in a rope any girl would have envied.  On his forehead gleamed the four dots of his Kitche--he was a Sarjalian.  "I'm thrilled to finally meet the famous Mokuren," Hinagiku said flirtatiously.  "I've heard of nothing else but your beauty and wisdom since I came to work with the Master."

 

"Thank you for coming," Mokuren said happily, but her attention was already focused once more on the older man.  She took his arm and led them both out of the hall. 

 

Alice woke with a jolt, her breath hard and painful in her chest.  The room was dark and quiet, and Rin was wrapped around her in comfortable deep sleep.  She smoothed his hair with shaking hands, willing the panic to subside.  The man calling himself Hinagiku was not who he claimed.  She remembered the real Hinagiku, the wise old man who had helped raise her through letters and tutelage.  The Sarjalian on the moon with them was Kiku.

 

She remembered everything now--how Hinagiku urged her not to accept the space mission, citing it to be the first step in a disappointing experiment.  "It will be hard for you, Mokuren," he'd warned.  "You will fall in love with the planet you are sent to study, you will feel protective of its life, its people.  What if you study only to destroy?" 

 

Mokuren had waved his warnings aside; bright with youthful optimism, she'd argued that no government would put forth so much capital toward an educational mission if they intended to destroy the planet.  Besides, she'd argued, she had the impartiality of a scientist--there was little chance that she'd get her emotions entangled in her work.

 

Hinagiku said little more on the subject, switching to the more local issue of keeping alien creatures as pets.  Mokuren had gratefully followed his lead, but noticed that Kiku glowered openly.  She wondered idly what about the space mission had him so worked up.

 

Later, when she heard that Hinagiku had declined the offer to be part of a related mission, Mokuren wasn't surprised.  It was only three weeks later, when her mentor had a sudden change of heart, that she started to get a bad feeling about the whole situation.

 

Now Alice understood completely.  Kiku had taken Hinagiku's place-undoubtedly against his will.  Tears for Mokuren's old mentor spilled down Alice's cheeks.  Kiku would have had to kill him.  No wonder he'd been so vile to her since her arrival--Mokuren was the only person alive that could threaten his position.  She alone knew the truth.

 

She pulled Rin's warm body more tightly against her own, seeking both to protect and to be protected.  She stared at the ceiling, at the vines that cracked the plaster and crawled down the walls, and for the millionth time since arriving, she wished they were all safe at home.