Chapter 15

"O proud Death! What feast is toward

In thine eternal cell?"

-Shakespeare, Hamlet V, ii, 378-379

Amid the darkness and the screams Elizabeth was trying to find Dresle, groping her way across the lounge, calling for her. In a matter of moments a dozen guards and soldiers came in with flashlights and finally Elizabeth could see the disorder in the room. The furniture had been knocked over and Dresle, Marco, Arjen, and Svaltu were all lying on the ground. The ceiling over their heads was cracking and plaster rained down on them.

"We have to get out of here!" cried the head of the soldiers. "Secure the aliens!" They had two guards to each Vellorian, and another helped her and the other three linguists. The roof began to collapse on them as they moved rapidly down the hall amid screaming backstage workers and cameramen. It reminded Elizabeth nightmarishly of videos she had seen of the destruction of the tube in Germany by terrorists. She tried to follow the soldiers' flashlights as they made their way through the crowds of screaming people and falling debris. Suddenly, about fifty yards in front of them, the entire ceiling crashed down, burying about six people beneath it. The lead soldiers called for them to go the other way, but Elizabeth did not move.

"There are people under there!" she screamed. "We can't just leave them!"

A soldier came back to grab her arm. "Our orders are to get the aliens out safely, and their assistants. You have to come now," he shouted above the continued rumbling. "Doctor, NOW!"

With agony in her heart she tore herself away and followed him, and the screams and cries for help fading, but still echoing in her mind.

When they finally reached the light of outdoors and the group all stopped, she sat down on a piece of stone broken from the building and began to sob.

"We just left them!" she cried. "They were in there, right in front of us, calling for help, and we let them down."

"There will be rescue teams, don't worry," said the leader. "But it's not safe to stop here." The ground rocked and a huge crack appeared in the pavement between them and the building. "We have to keep moving."

But Elizabeth didn't get up. "They were all lying there, covered in boils and pus," she went on. "And no one helped them! No one! We couldn't do anything to stop it. They died – all of them!"

A warm hand closed over her own and a soft voice said, "It's all right, Elizabeth. It's not your fault. Come on, now, we have to walk on a little ways."

Elizabeth followed where the soft hand led, not knowing where she was going or what was happening around her. She was in a blackness of mind and spirit that none could penetrate. At last she was aware of being led up into a helicopter. Then the door shut and they rose into the air. She was aware vaguely of Marco and Arjen asking questions of the soldiers as she looked down on the devastation. The earth had cracked open, as if a seam had come loose in a fabric, and all the detritus was falling down the chasm. The buildings were in ruins, and people were running in all directions, like ants from a nest.

"What has happened?" Marco was insisting.

"At first we thought it was a terrorist attack of some kind, but now it appears to be simply an earthquake."

Simply an earthquake? Elizabeth thought, looking below at the devastation.

"Are you all right, Elizabeth?" a voice said, and looking over she saw Dresle sitting next to her, her face, hair, and white dress covered in dust. She was still holding Elizabeth's hand. "Why were you so upset?"

"I'm sorry," said Elizabeth. She was shaking. She let go of Dresle's hand and began searching in her pockets. She was surprised to find, on her shoulder, her bag still hanging, with her phone, notebook, and computer still in it. She searched through it until she found a little blue pearl-sheen pill box and took out a pill, swallowing it without water. Her hands were shaking.

"What was that?" asked Dresle, referring to the pill.

Elizabeth did not answer.

"Death is a natural part of life," said Svaltu, a bit impatiently. "Do not your people teach you this?"

"Death comes to every creature," said Dresle more softly. "It is not for us to stand in the way. All physical matter must return eventually to its natural essences."

"Yes, yes, I know," said Elizabeth, sniffing, and wiping a stray tear from her eyelid.

They flew on for about twenty minutes, and then Elizabeth's phone rang. She saw the name: John Bennet. She picked it up.

"Hello?" she said in a calm voice.

"Elizabeth?"

"Yes."

"Oh, thank God! You're alive! We were praying and praying! We saw – on TV – the collapse from the earthquake. Are you all right?"

"Yes," she said again in the same tired voice.

"Thank the Lord! We were so worried! The show just shut off and then a message came on the screen saying there were technical difficulties. We've just heard it was an earthquake. Where are you –"

"John," she said, in a calm but cold voice, "Why did you leave her?"

"I – what?"

"Why did you let her die? You just left her there, with all the others, left her to die."

"Elizabeth, I –"

"You know, after all the years that I trusted you, thought it was for the best – but it's not. There's no sense in it, no meaning. Just blind, purposeless cruelty."

She hung up.

About a minute passed and John called again, but she put the phone on silent and stuck it into her bag.

"Who was that?" asked Dresle tentatively. "Will?"

"No," said Elizabeth. "It was just my brother."

Soon they arrived at a safe government location and the Vellorians were being counted to make sure everyone was there – Laufa, Esma, and Christoph had arrived in another helicopter, but without Darius.

"We thought you had him with you!" cried the soldiers.

Before anything else, they sent back troops to the site to try to find him, along with a rescue team and medvac. Meanwhile, they tried to get the others secure. All of the linguists, including Darius's, had been saved from the destruction. They were now miles away from the fringes of the earthquake and were escorted into one of the inner rooms of the government building, with guards at the door.

"Now, are any of you hurt?" asked the sergeant.

They all examined themselves. "No," they replied.

They were left in that room a long time to wait. There were some chairs and tables, but most of the Vellorians had left their libraries at the hotel. They took to standing by the window and looking out across the riddled city. Elizabeth thought to write to Will and let him know she was okay. She saw John had tried to call five or six more times, but dismissed it. She texted Will, whom she found had already left her a message, telling him she was fine.

Arjen got up and turned on the huge television screen embedded in the wall. The news was on. It was in Japanese, but the linguists took turns translating for the Vellorians. There was no real information on casualties, but the devastation was shown from high above.

After about an hour the sergeant returned. He had what looked like seven metal bracelets in his hands. "It's time to go," he said. "We're going back to the hotel. I have to request that all of you Vellorians put on these wrist bands."

"What is it?" asked Marco, as the sergeant snapped one onto his wrist.

"A tracking device. Just to ensure that we know where you are and that you're safe," replied the sergeant.

"How crude," muttered Marco.

"We also want to give each of you your own phone once we get to the hotel, so that you can make contact if ever you get separated, like Darius."

The rest put on the bracelets without a word.

The flight back to the hotel was short. None of the Vellorians seemed concerned for Darius, unless it was Arjen and Dresle. Arjen, she knew, was friends with Darius.

When they got to their rooms, there were guards left outside each door armed with guns. Dresle was playing with the bracelet on her wrist, and kept turning the television on and off to hear for news.

"Are you worried about Darius?" said Elizabeth.

Dresle looked up at her. "I suppose I am. I don't know why. He was always kind to me – he didn't treat me like a child. And – there's only eight of us left."

"Only eight left? What do you mean?" asked Elizabeth sharply.

"I mean, only eight of us here," said Dresle hastily.

"But, surely, you'll be able to return home?"

Dresle made no answer. "Why were you so upset back there?" she asked.

That put Elizabeth on her guard. "There were all those people buried in the rubble," she said. "And we were just going to leave them."

"But – you didn't even know those people. They're not your – your – compatriots."

"They are human beings," said Elizabeth, a bit angrily.

"There are so many of you," said Dresle. "Surely it will not hurt to lose a few."

Elizabeth was incensed, but she knew that she had really no right to be. Dresle could not understand humanity as she did. Human beings must seem so insignificant and short-lived in comparison with her own people. And she had said, at first, there were only eight of them left. Did that mean they could not return to their own planet?

"Dresle," she asked, "What happened to the others on your crew – the ones who didn't make it?"

Dresle looked at her suddenly, and her face was a little scared. "What?"

"You said there were fifteen on your crew, and that seven, including your captain, had died."

"Oh, yes," she said, her face turning red. "I probably shouldn't have told you that. Christoph said I should tell everyone that only the captain died."

"Why?"

Dresle shrugged, but Elizabeth was sure Dresle knew the answer.

"So how did they die?"

Dresle looked uncomfortable.

"I won't tell anyone," Elizabeth added.

Dresle looked up at her. "Well … all right," she sighed. "There were three other men and four other women, of varying ages. The first to die was Feema; she was our mechanic. There really was no need for her, and the captain thought she was taking up space and air so he assigned her petty jobs. She was from one of the lower classes. But one day there was a meltdown in the cryo chamber – it's a sort of place we use to store specimens and DNA – she went in to fix it, but the pipe she was working in got flooded with the deadly cold liquid and she couldn't get out. We were able to extract her before she drowned, but she had got too cold and died of it. Laufa couldn't save her. What do you call that, when you get too cold inside?"

"Hypothermia?"

"Yes, hypothermia. I was sorry because I always thought she was nice. She used to help me take care of the plants, and sometimes she cooked the food with the fresh herbs."

"You said the Captain looked down on her – but everyone, I thought, was equal in your country."

"We were," she said. "But on the ship, after such a long time, everything became different."

"When did Feema die?"

"About twenty years into the journey. Then, about two years before we landed, Kanaan, he was the youngest of the group, had to go outside the ship to fix some damage caused by an asteroid, and his suit somehow lost his air supply. He suffocated before we could get out to him."

"How terrible!" Elizabeth murmured.

"About forty-five years into the trip, people were becoming much more edgy, and some of them were even becoming mad. Svaltu tried to counsel them, but it seemed she couldn't help." She gave a snort.

"What do you mean, becoming mad?"

"It was the long exposure to the endless dark," said Dresle. "Two of the women: one, the weapons expert, and the other, who was in charge of the food, water, and air, got into a fight. I don't even know what it was over. For not sharing space, or getting the others' clothes dirty, I don't know. It didn't matter. They were mad. They fought with their bare hands and the cook killed the weapons expert, but she was blinded in the struggle. Then she slit her wrists."

Elizabeth was overwhelmed with a feeling of horror. Did she really want to know anymore? "What about the Captain?" she heard herself asking.

"Oh, he – he died in a fire, like Christoph said. There were two others – Lilia and Chavro. They were – well, Svaltu suspected them of carnal crime. We all saw them smiling at each other all the time, and Svaltu once saw them holding hands under the table where we ate our communal meals."

"You had gravity on your ship while in space?"

"Oh, yes," said Dresle, surprised. "We have gravity and anti-gravity technology."

"Okay, sorry – go ahead."

"Well, one night they went missing, and the Captain went searching for them. He found them – in a maintenance store room. He was furious and locked them in there before they could get out. He shouted that if they were going to act like animals, they would be treated like animals, and penned up there. I have no doubt that he meant to let them out once he decided what to do with them. But after several hours Lilia and Chavra made attempts to get out using different tools they could find in the storage room. The captain heard them banging at the door and came to yell to them to stop. I don't know what they were using, but they broke a pipe of some kind and gas started leaking everywhere, both inside the room and out. There must have been a spark of something against the metal door because there was suddenly a great explosion of fire and the captain was burned alive."

"What about the other ones – Lilia and Chavro?"

"They were still stuck in the storage room, which was slowly filling with the gas. They were too afraid to try to break the door open I think, because a spark would have caused them to go up too."

"Did you let them out?"

She shook her head. "No, Laufa ordered us to leave them in there, and since he was now the captain we had to obey. It seemed to take them forever to die," she added in a calm voice. "For hours we could hear them calling to us through the door, until it became quieter and quieter, and then they were silent."

Elizabeth shuddered. "But why did Laufa leave them in there?"

Dresle looked up. "They killed the captain."

"But not on purpose."

"They were criminals."

Elizabeth could not understand Dresle's calm demeanor. Certainly, they had been trained not to show emotion, but this utter indifference to death in its most horrific forms was terrible.

"I don't know if it was right," said Dresle, who seemed to guess what Elizabeth was thinking. "But what is right and wrong, really?"

Elizabeth sighed.

"Our society and all our laws are based around reason and logic. Was it reasonable, was it logical, to leave them in there? I don't know. But I still remember the screams."

It was almost nightfall by the time they found Darius. He was, indeed, alive. Rescue teams had been sent out to try to rescue as many victims as they could, and work would go on for many days yet. Darius had suffered an injury to the head when some debris fell down on him, and had somehow managed to get out, blood trickling down the side of his face. He had staggered about for some time, disoriented, and there was so much pandemonium and people rushing to help others that none seemed to notice him. He wandered for several hours before finally falling unconscious against a building. When he woke again, he could think a bit more clearly and so found his way to a public telephone box; but he could not discover how to operate it, because he had no money. Therefore, when the automated voice urged him, he put his hand on the screen and it scanned his finger prints. This immediately raised flags at the A.C. government, and they found Darius within five minutes.

He was in the hospital now, and Laufa had insisted on being the physician to look after him. Elizabeth couldn't blame him. Human doctors must seem so bumbling in comparison with Vellorian standards. When they had found Darius he was speaking in his own language and they could not tell if he understood them. And he continued when Laufa arrived Laufa responded in the same language, and then Darius fell asleep. Laufa insisted on staying with him through the night.

To everyone's amazement, except perhaps Laufa, Darius woke up the next day one hundred percent cured, and asking for breakfast in perfect English. After he had eaten the rather slimy eggs and bacon they provided for him, he was permitted to leave.

The media had swarmed outside the hospital doors, and were all eager for an interview. The guards shielded him as he headed toward the car, but to everyone's surprise Darius stopped to speak into one of the microphones.

"Yes, I'm doing perfectly well, thank you," he said. "Nothing to worry about. And all my compatriots are safe as well, thank you."

When they returned to the hotel, Darius requested another breakfast. The rest, including the linguists, came down to meet him for the meal. Elizabeth, however, was exhausted. She had been unable to sleep for hours; and when finally asleep, had had vivid nightmares about post-apocalyptic landscapes and dying people pleading for help. She was relieved when she heard that they were leaving Japan that day. Apparently the A.C. government was bent on keeping their "guests" safe. This time they let the media know where they were going: to the exotic and tropical island, Singapore!