2
One morning, I caught up with Lakan on top of one of the blue hills. He was writing and sitting cross-legged on a woven mat from Mirandus, probably pulled out from his cabin or the cargo - I hadn't seen something like it in a while. The colored concentric squares made me smile in memory of the exotic little planet. Inevitably I got to thinking of Marko and brushed away my thoughts. The past was past, I guess...
Lakan looked over his shoulder at the last minute and suddenly shut the book he was writing in. As I approached, I saw that it was what I'd come to call the White Book of Marko. It was too late for him to hide the fact that he was writing in it, but he could still keep the book itself out of reach. I could tell my smile was mixed with a curious look as I sat next to him on the mat. "Good morning, Lakan," I said.
He returned the smile, but in his eyes I knew he was searching me. We both knew I wanted to learn about the book. It had been a while since I'd last seen it in Marko's tightly folded arms... "Good morning, Aaren," he answered. "What's up?"
I shrugged. "Just wondering how you were doing, is all. It's the first time I've seen you since you split the crew up."
He smiled. "Yeah, well... There's just less stuff to do, so we're more free to do what we want with our time. I choose to write," he answered, twirling the ink pencil in his other hand and resting his fingers on the white book cover.
"Could I see some of your writing?" I tried feebly. He only laughed, and I let it go.
"Maybe someday," he answered, "when you're... ready." He was giving me that strange, analyzing look, and I tried to look away. He immediately changed the subject. "I hear your father writes, too. Haven't read any of his work, though."
I smiled. I hadn't brought up my father since joining the operation. I kept most of my thoughts of him to myself. "He started keeping a journal when he went on his first voyage since Treasure Planet," I said, "when he met Tita Felix. Your father was the Captain..." I trailed off there. Lakan had never known his father, who'd died in a meteor shower during that voyage. "Anyway, he's been carrying that journal around ever since. He used to read it to me on some nights, when I was smaller, and tell me about his adventures, and what school was like, and my mother." I never really knew her, either; she'd died when I was about two.
I suddenly wondered how my father was doing now... We were still, after all, in the middle of the war, and he and his crew, along with other ships in the Fleet, were probably still in battle. Or sailing home. Or not. "I wonder what he's written about now," I whispered.
Lakan nodded absently. He then pointed at the group of huts below. Sorula emerged from one of them, carrying a bundle of sticks. "Sorula tells me that the Lalitans are preparing for a wedding ceremony," he said. I looked to where he was pointing, and sure enough, a pair of black lizard people emerged after her, walking sideways, their claws entwined.
"They have weddings?" I asked.
He shrugged. "She called it the 'intertwining of roots, the formation of a new and single plant'. Seeing all these couples around, I guess it's a mass root-intertwining, too." He pointed to where Marko and some of the crewmen were playing with some Lalitan children. Perched on the rock beside Marko was another pair of lizards linking claws. I spotted another entering a hut and one more just at the foot of the hill.
The Lalitans were going to have a wedding. After the suffering they'd gone through, and all the hard work we'd done to help them rebuild their world, I guess there was nothing more fitting to close the circle than a ceremony that meant a new, harmonious life. I felt a faint smile appear on my face as I watched the Lalitan couples, their black skin glimmering under the alien sun, their many-colored fur shining as they began to comb each other... I had a sudden thought. "Lakan, what color soul are you?"
He laughed and smiled at the horizon. "So Sorula got to you too, huh? Well... She said violet, green, orange, and blue-green. How about you?"
I puzzled as I remembered her cryptic description of my and Marko's souls. "Pink and green, and yellow. And blue-green, too. And that Marko and I were almost the same." I answered. "What does blue-green mean?"
There was a surprising sparkle in his eye and an amused smile on my face. He obviously knew something I didn't. "Did she really say blue-green?" he asked. He chuckled and shook his head. "And that you and Marko have the same colors?"
"Why?" I asked, pulling at his arm. "Why? What does it mean?"
He said nothing, except, "She's really good, isn't she?" And then he shook his head and laughed again. Then he sighed and got up, picking the white book up with him. He looked thoughtfully, first at the book, and then at me. "Just how far did you get in the book?" he asked suddenly. "Because I know you saw something... Did you read the words by the estreya?"
I didn't answer. I didn't move. I was struck dumb by what everything suddenly implied. I stood up and got off the mat, which Lakan bent down and rolled so he could tuck it under his arm. Still laughing softly to himself, he left me standing there atop the hill. I stared dumbly at the people below. As if on cue, in the middle of the game, Marko looked up at me, smiled, and waved.