This is a fan translation of Fighters of Danwait (Бойцы Данвейта) by Mikhail Akhmanov, currently only available in Russian and, because of the author's passing in 2019, unlikely to ever be published in English. This is the third book in a six-book series called Arrivals from the Dark (Пришедшие из мрака), which also has a six-book spin-off series called Trevelyan's Mission (Миссия Тревельяна).
I claim no rights to the contents herein.
BINO FAATA is an accurately established name for the race.
The galactic coordinates of the Bino Faata sector: PsW127/PsW188, Perseus Arm.
The location of their homeworld is unknown; the number of conquered planets in the Perseus Arm is likely from one to three hundred. A B7-level technological civilization, based on the symbiosis of the Faata with artificial quasi-sentient creatures, a legacy of the Daskins, which are used at all levels of industry and control. The Faata civilization is made up of three phases, separated by periods of disasters (Eclipses).
The current period (the Third Phase) is characterized by the development of powerful military technology, aggression, and active expansion in the Perseus Arm. Attempts to invade the Orion Arm, specifically, the Solar System, were thwarted as a result of an armed conflict in 2088, the conquest of Ro'on, T'har, and Aezat in 2135, and the subsequent Void Wars in 2135-2261.
The Faata have two sexes and are included among the humanoid races of the galaxy; they are capable of producing offspring with the people of Earth and, apparently, with the Kni'lina. Differences from humans: a nerve cluster in the back (at the base of the neck), a periodic release of sex hormones (the tuahha period), a long lifespan, up to a thousand years for a high-caste Faata, and their capability for telepathic communication. Reproduction is achieved via artificial insemination of the females of the ksa caste, other females do not produce offspring. The reproductive rate is low; estimated population: 2-3 billion. Within their sector, they utilize the labor resources of the races conquered by them (Aers, Troni, P'ata), of which virtually nothing is known.
Social structure: caste patronage. Large groups of population, concentrated on a planet or a continent, are led by Sheaves, five-eight of the oldest and most experienced persons, who are in complete control over all the aspects of life. The members of the highest caste, who possess the telepathic gift (the Bino Faata themselves), are considered to be fully sentient, while the members of the other castes are the partially sentient (t'ho). Some of the lower t'ho castes (ksa, olks, workers, pilots) have been bred artificially, and their physiology differs from human more than that of the higher castes.
Sources of information: 1. Reports, memorandums, and other materials of the USF Research Corps. 2. Results of independent studies of the Faata technology, physiology, and history (monographs, Ultranet and scientific journal articles, holofilms, etc.).
Xenological Compendium, section Galactic Races. United University edition, La Sorbonne, Oxford, Moscow (Earth), Olympus Mons (Mars), 2264
Chapter 2
Zantoo
The Ecumene of the mind was changing. The inhabited world was expanding with each day, month, and years, pushing its borders farther and farther, from Earth to the Moon, Venus, and Mars, then to the Asteroid Belt, to the gaseous sphere of Jupiter, to the cold Pluto, and, finally, to the stars, which had been shining in the cold and the darkness for billions of years, from the time when the newborn galaxies first began to move apart after the Big Bang. But that time was not as interesting as the more recent centuries, which had changed the world.
Of course, it was only changing from the human viewpoint, while the galactic races, both ancient and not very, were not noticing any particular changes. Each possessed its own sector of space, separated by natural barriers: a void between the coils of the galactic spiral, a nebula of rarefied gas, the remains of a supernova, or a lifeless area, whose stars had no habitable planets. There was no shortage of stars: a hundred billion suns of any spectral class, any size and mass, from red, white, and blue giants, to dwarfs with monstrous gravity, single or binary or trinary, eclipsing variable stars or those that shone with a rare consistency, sparkled in the three arms of the galaxy and many star clusters. The situation was worse with planets. Many of the stars with satellites were too cold or extremely hot, and the planetary bodies in their systems were not suitable for life. Life, especially intelligent life, was actually a unique phenomenon; it blossomed at such a narrow range of temperatures, gravity, and composition of the water-gas environment, that one could only marvel that it had appeared at all. Obviously, the deciding factors were the sheer size of the galaxy and the variety of conditions in it; in other words, the enormous star island mercifully included intelligent life in the list of its wonders and miracles.
Life appeared here and there, and the arising races eked out a long existence in their worlds or moved towards power, sending out fleets, colonizing planets, capturing as much space, star systems, and resources, as their numbers, biological potential, and technology allowed. Then some left their planets and moved into space, wandered through the vast emptiness, faded away or mysteriously vanished, while others built empires and, clashing with the opposition of other cultures, attacked or defended, considering any alien to be an enemy. The results fluctuated in wide ranges from mutual destruction to equilibrium, based on the practical assessment of the forces, which was followed by an age of relatively peaceful contacts. But, in any situation, the galaxy was not a haven of love and peace, as unrealistic between alien creatures as a lion peacefully lying next to a lamb.
There were legends among the stars that it had not always been so. In the past, millions of years ago, the galaxy had been ruled over by a race called the Daskins, whose power was greater than all of their rivals, and, while the Daskins had not felt a kinship with the other sentient beings, they managed to do without wars of extermination and violence. When the Ancients had vanished and their era sunk into oblivion, the former lord-kings were replaced by smaller overlords, barons or, at best, princes. Any race, who discovered the way of transporting through Limbo and wished to enter the galactic community, did not usually cause them to feel affection and was seen as, if not an enemy, than a barbarian horde, and, in the future, a dangerous rival. That was a defensive reaction, the same instinct that pushed hyenas to kill a young leopard, for, like all living beings, the young grew and became stronger.
Earth was not an exception; in the late 21st century, an enormous starship, carrying battle modules and genetic material, had invaded the Solar System. The alien Bino Faata were among the galaxy's humanoid races and were very similar to humans, which had caused the clash to be particularly ferocious: both were afraid that the stronger and the more persistent race would assimilate the other as part of its cosmic expansion. The Faata assault had been repulsed, but the losses were terrible: destroyed cities, tens of millions of casualties, and trampled pride. But the aliens had been destroyed, their ship taken by the victors, and that prize had propelled Earth's technology forward by an entire century. Soon after that, human colonies appeared in the neighboring systems of Alpha Centauri, Sirius, Wolf 359, and Barnard's Star, and the Lo'ona Aeo were the first to notice this activity. Fortunately for humanity, they were not looking for enemies, but needed mercenaries or landsknechts, for, despite all their riches and knowledge, they were incapable of defending themselves. Their ships descended to Pluto, the Servs made contact with Earth's space fleet, and, with the approval of the UN and all the nations of the planet, the Lo'ona Aeo were recognized as friends and allies.
No one disputed the value of an alliance with this race. The overpopulated Earth had need of new territories, but all of its fleets, both battle and merchant, were incapable of carrying even a thousandth of the number of the emigrants, not to mention the costs of settling wild planets. The expansion had been underway, colonies had been appearing on Mars, on the moons of Saturn and Jupiter, and at nearby stars, but it was a long process, estimated to take centuries and requiring a lot of resources. With the assistance of the Lo'ona Aeo, the rate of resettlement to other worlds increased: in return for the services of their mercenaries, they offered transportation, means of hibernation, and even comfortable planets in the Blue Zone, on the outskirts of their own sector. Each fighter of the Patrol and the Convoys could settle there with their entire family, for the employers, having long ago moved to their ethereal cities, had no need for these worlds.
About forty years after the Faata invasion, a strike was carried out on their colonies eighty parsecs from Earth. It was sudden and triumphant; T'har, Ro'on, and Aezat were captured with few losses, exiling the Faata into the darkness of the Void. The Void, which separated two of the coils of the galactic spiral—the Orion Arm, which included the Solar System, and the Perseus Arm, where the Faata homeworld was located—was a natural border of Earth's sector. The captured worlds were colonized, among which Ro'on was the most pleasant, capable of accepting the surplus populations of China, India, Brazil, and a dozen other countries. Simultaneously, the Lo'ona Aeo had been moving out hundreds of thousands of mercenaries and millions of their relatives, mostly those same Chinese and Hindus, to Danwait, Harra, Zantar, and Tintakh, the outer planets of the sector. The situation in that region was not simple, as had always been the case during the times when Defenders were replaced. The Dromi, a warlike race, who had been previously supplying the landsknechts, found themselves out of work, which meant great losses for them: the contact with the Lo'ona Aeo had been broken, a source of income dried up, the streams of goods and valuables were now heading to Earth. But the Dromi were a spiteful and vindictive people, preferring to resolve problems through the force of their weapons and an armored fist. They had no intention of yielding to humans; their faith in their own might was unshakeable.
An undeclared war flared up on the Lo'ona Aeo frontier. Maybe a fleet of human cruisers with marine divisions could have calmed the Dromi down, but Earth and the Solar System, and all the human colonies, had been busy fighting their own wars, long and bloody ones, which would last for over a century. The Bino Faata had returned to Ro'on, and there, on the distant outskirts of Earth's sector, battles thundered, ships burned, and cities turned to ash. Four invasions, four Void Wars, raging in the black abyss and by the border stars; five generations, who had paid their tribute to the gods of destruction; Faata brutality, human brutality, torture, prisoner killings, craters in place of settlements, burning lava flowing down mountains, soldiers and heroes, fighting year after year, with no hope of survival…
The Faata civilization had spent itself in that fight, stepping beyond the threshold of an Eclipse; Earth, as befitted a star empire, gained strength and power. Now all knew and feared it: the proud Kni'lina, the formidable Haptors, the predatory Llyano, and the other races, with whom they would have to live, compete, ally, trade, and fight. Earth knew about them as well and remembered that one's list of friends was always shorter than one's list of enemies. Perhaps the Dromi were number one on that list, but the thought of a new war scared some people, reminded others about the losses, and was unpopular among the rest. The time of the Dromi had not yet come. Warships were being mothballed, weapons were being locked down; crews were being dismissed, orbital fortresses were being converted into space settlements, the ecologies of the attacked planets were being restored, crops were being expanded, new things were being built, wounds were being healed. People needed rest.
Not all of them, though. For many veterans of the Void Wars, peace was something unusual, unnatural even; space was their field and their garden, a ship was a trusty abode, and "to get on the ground" in their vocabulary meant "to die". Navigators and pilots, marines and gunners, restless souls, penniless adventurers, warriors deprived of weapons…
Thousands flooded Pluto, the Lo'ona Aeo recruiting center, and the Masters took them. They did, for that was the military elite such as the galaxy had never seen; an expensive commodity for those who were prepared to pay to be protected from banditry.
The Lo'ona Aeo paid generously. That was the condition of the deal, in which, besides the payment for blood, nothing else was provided: no respect, no attachment, and definitely no love.
The three humans froze in front of the bed. A fragile short Serv was bent over on the floor, his large eyes without pupils gleamed, his face impassive. Gusts of warm wind stirred the curtain separating the bedchamber from the forward section of the compartment, from which they could hear the quiet rustling of the leaves.
The golden-haired fairy was looking at the humans with fear. Then her thin four-fingered hand stretched out in a slow gesture, as if she wanted to banish them like a horrible nightmare, cast them out of her tiny cozy world, sleeping under the pink and black skies. Her small breasts, covered by a translucent fabric, rose, her mouth opened, as if she couldn't get enough air.
"She's afraid," Cro Lightwater spoke. "We'd better go."
"Well, at least we've managed to get a look at a Lonchak," Atigem grumbled, stepping back to the curtain. "There'll be something to tell the others at the pub. Plus the premium rate… But they could've forked out a bit more than a hundred pieces of eight for such a beauty."
"Is she all right?" Valdez bent over the Serv. "She doesn't need us anymore, right?"
"Yes, Defender. Thank you, Defender. The Master can order. We will obey. We will do everything the Master wishes."
"Your Driver was destroyed. We will escort the transport to the nearest trading post."
"Yes, yes, of course. And now…" the Serv repeated his mistress's gesture.
"You've done your business, now get out," Atigem summed up. "Let's go, boys."
He and Cro started walking along the row of the columns entwined with greenery, slightly pushing away from the floor and sliding in the low gravity. Valdez followed them, glancing at the skies, where the starry night was intermixing with dawn, and looking back to the fragile figure, frozen in the middle of the bed. His heart was beating faster than normal. To tell the truth, it was pounding like it was ready to jump out.
A burbling voice caught him by the curtain.
"You, the one walking last… Come here."
The Lo'ona Aeo had a musical language, reminiscent of a soft melody, and, in her lips, it sounded like the ringing of crystal bells.
"What does she want?" Atigem asked.
"Don't know." Valdez shrugged. "She wants me to stay."
"Just don't get your hopes up, Captain. You might be young, handsome, and oh-so-heroic, but I don't think this birdie is for us. I heard Lonchaks lay eggs. Is that right, Chief?"
"No. They're mammals. There are plenty of differences, of course, but…"
Atigem and Lightwater disappeared beyond the curtain, and their voices vanished, as if cut off by a stone wall. Valdez returned to the bed and stood before it, crossing his arms over his chest. The bottomless blue eyes burned him, like a lightning bolt that had fallen from the sky. The Lo'ona Aeo was rolling a pearl bead in her small hand, then she put it to her lips and licked it off quickly. Her tongue was small, pink, child-like, and even her body looked that of a fourteen-year-old girl, who had only started to blossom.
"Who are you?" The crystal bells rang again.
"Sergey Valdez, Danwait Patrol. Captain of the beyri Lancelot."
"Where are you from?"
"I already said, I'm from Danwait."
"You don't look like the humans living there. Where did you see the light and the darkness?"
To see the light and the darkness… That was how the Lo'ona Aeo referred to birth.
"On Earth."
"On your main planet?"
"Yes. On Earth, in an enormous ocean that washes over the shores of five continents."
She swallowed another pearl bead. Some sort of drug?.. Valdez thought and glanced at the Serv. But that one did not appear to be worried.
Her cheeks went pink, a small hand touched her chest.
"I am Zantoo, offspring of Ghiaira, Ptayon, and Briani of the astroid Anat. Female."
"I can see that you're female," Valdez muttered, a little overwhelmed by the abundance of her progenitors. "Oh, there's no doubt about that! I am glad to look into your eyes, Zantoo." That was merely a courtesy formula. "What are you doing on this ship?"
"I am also glad to meet your gaze. This is my ship, Sergey Valdezzz of Earth. I am a salesperson."
After a moment's thought, he frowned and shook his head.
"That can't be. The Lo'ona Aeo live in the space habitats of the Pink Zone and don't fly in trade ships."
"I do. I am a special Lo'ona Aeo," Zantoo countered, getting off her bed. Her head reached exactly to Valdez's chest. She was no taller than her Servs and looked just as graceful and fragile, but she differed from the androids as much as light was different from a shadow.
"And where do you, a special Lo'ona Aeo female, take your cargo?" Valdez asked.
"Is that important?" Zantoo waved her hand and sighed. "If you wish you know, I will tell you. From the Pink Zone, from Arza, Kullat, and Fayo, to trading posts, usually the Fifth or the Seventh. There, they give me a Convoy, and I head to the outer worlds. I've been to planets belonging to Haptors, Shada, Kni'lina… Do you know that the Kni'lina look like you humans? Only they don't have that," she touched her hair.
"You also look like a human," Valdez said. "And you have hair. Very beautiful hair!"
"But I am not human."
Her skin started to turn pale, her eyelids and the area under them went grey; it looked like the drug that allowed her to speak to Valdez was starting to wear off. She rolled a pearl bead in her long, flexible fingers and threw it aside. The bead flared for a second and appeared to dissolve into thin air. Valdez followed it with his eyes.
"What is that?"
"Ertza."
"You almost died when you took it."
"The fear and the dose are small now. But before… This is not yet the Frontier, Sergey Valdez of Earth, this is the Blue Zone. I thought the Dromi rarely came here. I thought I would die."
Valdez stood up straighter.
"You needn't have worried, Zantoo of astroid Anat. The Patrol always arrives in time."
She smiled. Her smile was lovely and very human: small white teeth flashed, the mounds on her cheeks rose, her bright lips seemed to blow him a kiss. Zantoo uttered the traditional words of gratitude, "May my life be a payment for yours." Her eyes clouded. "Now go, Sergey Valdez. Go, because I… I… need to be alone."
"I understand," he said softly. "We are not far from Trading Post 7. My ship will take your transport there. You can rest and not worry."
The curtain opened before him. Back, past the supports covered in vines, past the strange equipment, tables, cabinets, past the holographic scenery with the palaces and the villas, past the strange device that emitted the scent of jasmine or roses… Back, under the sky with fantastic clouds and the velvety-black sky with the shining plume of the Milky Way… Back, down the Serv compartment with the dark charging alcoves, through the cargo hold with the gutted androids… Back, farther and farther away from Zantoo and her sweet-smelling world, to the cramped compartments of the Lancelot, to the stale air and the unpleasant smells…
Who is she to me? Valdez thought. Who? Why? An alien creature, not even an alien humanoid, like the Faata or the Kni'lina, but something like a fish among dolphins and whales. The appearance looks similar, but the essence is different, even though every creature in the ocean has fins and a tail… Even the ocean isn't ours! She can't even live on a normal world, on a planet… A woman! A female, whose people don't reproduce in a sexual way, but God knows how… Three parents, imagine that! And a xenophobe to boot! So much that she has to suppress it with drugs!
He continued to list all that differed Zantoo from a human of Earth, both those that were known with complete certainty and those that were only whispered about on the base, in the pubs of Danwait, on the Patrol and Convoy ships, but the more he remembered of each, the brighter her blue eyes shone and the more captivating her smile got. Finally, Valdez got angry and stepped onto the bridge with a sullen look, trying not to look at Cro and Atigem. He silently got into his uncomfortable cradle, laid in the course for Trading Post 7 and made sure that the Lancelot had taken over the controls of the transport. The gravitators rustled quietly, the acceleration machinery engaged, and he continued to sit and sit in his hole, watching the chains of symbols flowing on the route screen. The tactful Cro had disappeared into the cabin, but Atigem, sprawling on the floor, grunted, snorted, and scratched his armpit, obviously trying to start a conversation. He loved to chat after bloody clashes, maybe because he was just happy to be alive, maybe he was anticipating his bonus.
He had managed to avoid speaking for fifteen minutes, then he couldn't hold back anymore and spoke, "Well, how was the talk, Captain? Without an insult, a pretty birdie… very seductive in her own way… Did you peek under her feathers?"
Valdez was silent as a fish.
"The Chief says they're mammals. Her breasts really do look right, tasty, but they got nothing on our girls. Nope, definitely not! Especially if you take those black Brazilians, the ones who have some Chinese blood in them. They have an innate charm, temperament, grace… One word: Creoles! But even the white ones aren't bad, those from the Frontier. Let's take Inga Sokolova… She's obviously pining for you, yeah?"
She was, Valdez agreed mentally and gritted his teeth even harder. That was Inga, and this was Zantoo… The songs were as different as a march was from a serenade.
"You seem silent today," Atigem said, pulled a coin out from his pocket and started to toss it up, making it flip in the air. It was a heavy circle, ninety percent platinum and ten iridium with the image of a Möbius strip, which symbolized Limbo. The other side had different stamps: lions, eagles, griffins, p'hots, sometimes the four-fingered hand of a Lo'ona Aeo. The coin was called a peso or a piece of eight [A peso was an old Spanish silver coin weighing 25 grams, also known under the names "piece of eight" and the Spanish Thaler. It was used in Spain's American colonies as well as in Europe.], and had, for over one hundred and fifty years, served as the primary payment unit with the human mercenaries. There were legends that one of the very first Patrolmen had been a Cuban or, maybe, a Mexican, who had kept an ancient piece of eight as a good luck charm; that piece of eight had served as the template for the Lo'ona Aeo, but their version was minted in the scarce platinum. Electronic money and personal credit medallions had appeared soon after, but they still minted the coins. They gave the life on Danwait, Harra, and the other worlds its own unique flavor.
"Inga, she–" Atigem started again, but Valdez's patience was at an end. Turning in the narrow cradle with difficulty, he gave his comrade-in-arms an unpleasant look and barked, "Go to the cabin! And mind your own business, you old fart!"
The "old fart" comment was too much: Atigem was only fifty. Of course, compared to Valdez, he seemed a bit old, and, besides, in years gone by, they'd had the same rank of Commander. But Valdez had been awarded it at the age of twenty-six, while Atigem had gotten it in his forties, when he was given the position of senior gunner on the Moscow. He had been in that position for only a year; then the Moscow, a Frontier Fleet cruiser, got mothballed, the crew discharged, and the senior gunner returned to his hometown of Tver. There, he had started drinking, and, when there was nothing left in his pockets, he showed up on Pluto.
Atigem stood, rubbing his burned shoulder and puckering his lips in resentment.
"No respect for the age and the uniform," he grumbled, heading for the hallway. And we're of equal rank, my Captain! In the Star Fleet, such rudeness would've been the end of you, and you would've gotten… what do you call it?.. total ostracism."
"We're not in the Star Fleet," Valdez reminded him and, feeling ashamed, added. "Sorry, Stepan. Not feeling a hundred percent today."
"It happens."
Sucking in his gut, Atigem managed to squeeze into the hallway. The opening in the bulkhead was a bit too narrow for his massive frame, and Valdez frequently wondered how the Dromi, big fellows, had managed to get through a hole like that. Everything on this ship was inhuman, not adapted for humans: sparse nets in the cabin instead of normal cots, hatch openings of an uncomfortable shape, an air conditioner that produced air with a nasty smell, an auto-kitchen that occasionally produced a strange mix of rotten vegetables with a foul-smelling vegetable protein. But the head was the worst of all. Apparently, the act of defecation among the Dromi was very different from that of the humans, and it was a miracle they had managed not to fall into the meter-wide hole.
The ship jumped into Limbo, pulling the trade transport through the underside of the universe, and came out two megameters away from Trading Post 7. This enormous structure made up of spheres, cylinders, and rings had been put into orbit around a scarlet star at the edge of the sector; a lifeless nebula stretched for two hundred and thirty light-years beyond it, the remains of a now-dead supernova. Beyond that cloud, in the direction of the north galactic pole, was Kni'lina space, and to the south was the territory belonging to the Shada. Maybe Zantoo will head to either of them, Valdez thought, she did mention that she was visiting these races.
The Lo'ona Aeo traded with half the galaxy. Not on their own, of course, but through the Servs, so intelligent that it was not a simple task, and sometimes just plain impossible, to tell them apart from a living being. Most of their exports consisted of miniature chips and equipment based on them: various life support systems, cybernetic transplant organs, data recording and image visualization devices, machines for recycling and purification of atmospheres, oceans, and space lanes. The Lo'ona Aeo never offered anyone weapons, but, naturally, others tried to use their microchips for military purposes, to produce robots and combat systems. Their products were effective, extremely reliable, and small-sized, so there were no alternatives to them in some cases.
Besides unique electronics, they exported other, beautiful things that defied the imagination of many of the galactic races. These included hypnoglyphs and shifting mirrors, figurines that came to life and lenses that allowed the blind to see, noise-absorbing screens, healing fabric and clothing that fit any being, adjusting to its body shape, medicines, spices, and other food additives. In return, the Lo'ona Aeo took decorations and objects of art, preferably old ones, with a sacred meaning or shrouded in legend, and, besides that, they also liked plants, animals, video recordings, cosmetics, hallucinogens, and all the other rarities that an alien world could offer. There was smuggling, of course, if their trading partners did not wish to part with national masterpieces; occasionally, they sold and bought something potentially dangerous, or actually dangerous, or capable of becoming dangerous in inexperienced hands. But such cases were rare, and, in general, Serv merchants tried to respect alien laws.
What was trade to the Lo'ona Aeo? A scientific program to study otherworlders, whose goal was to imagine their everyday life and psychology? Or were they trying to figure out the aliens' strengths and weaknesses, find their civilizations' vulnerabilities, assess their possibilities, to avoid making a mistake in choosing Defenders? Or, conversely, to find out how to quickly deal with them using their mercenary forces if the need arose? Or did trade serve as entertainment to them? Maybe the rarities and masterpieces from alien worlds amused their pride, aroused curiosity and imagination, were a sign of prosperity, a symbol of superiority over the other races?.. No one knew the true reasons or strived to discover them, for the eccentricities of the Lo'ona Aeo did not cause harm to anyone. A strange people, closed-in, mysterious, but peace-loving… Quiet xenophobes… If anyone needed to be watched, it was not them. There were plenty of xenophobes in the galaxy, and very aggressive ones to boot.
"The trading post's hold has the transport ship," the thin voice of the Lancelot was heard in the room.
"I see that," Valdez said, watching the trade ship being slowly pulled into one of the enormous cylinders. Finally, the last container-barge, pulled by a tractor beam, disappeared in the hatch's open maw, and it closed, cutting off Zantoo's ship, but not the memory of her. Valdez sighed and started to get out of the cradle.
"Your orders, Defender?" the Lancelot asked.
"Switch to automatic mode, return to the patrol area. I'm going to go rest. You… can you remove this stench? I mean, freshen up the air a bit?"
"The breathing gas mixture complies with the standards," the reply came.
Valdez spat on the floor, headed to the cabin, where Cro and Atigem were throwing dice, shut off the gravity around his sleeping net, and lay down without undressing. As usual, when he slept in weightlessness, he saw his own floating island in the Pacific Ocean, sitting on the waves somewhere between Chile and Australia, green palm trees and magnolias with enormous white flowers, the strip of the golden beach, his father's fishing glider, and the nude tanned bodies of his brothers and sisters. He saw them splashing around by the beach, squealing, laughing, and the two tamed dolphins, Zig and Zaga, poking long snouts into their bellies, inviting them to go hunting. He, the oldest of them, would swim out into the sea, leaving the little ones behind, swimming with strong, powerful strokes, and the water around him becoming darker and darker, turning into a black canopy that slowly undulated up and down, up and down. Patches of moonlight played on the waves, shrinking into points, and he was no longer in the ocean but in space, the vast emptiness, among planets and stars. He had no ship, not the current Lancelot, not the cruiser Rome, on which he had fought in the last Void War, but he was flying through the emptiness with an incredible speed, passing by the neighboring stars to the giant scarlet sphere of Betelgeuse [Betelgeuse is an M2-class star two hundred parsecs from the Solar System. A red giant; Betelgeuse's radius is nine hundred times that of Sol.], flying to where the Lo'ona Aeo lived in the Pink and Blue Zones. Flying to Zantoo, knowing that she was waiting for him. Her pretty face was like a flower against the backdrop of the cosmic darkness… She was reaching out her hands to him, a smile blossoming on her lips.