The Nightbird's Song
By Jen Prill
I've never cared for crowds. They make me nervous. They make me sweat. But for some reason I have chosen as my career to be an instigator--riots, coups, wars--anything that requires manipulation of the masses. The pay, of course, is breathtaking, and I vacation more days than I work. Still. . .
“Ms. Moore, your ticket to Tessax," a young woman said as she slid the polymer sliver to me across the bright orange counter top. “The ship's departure is scheduled for tonight and will not arrive on Tessax for another twenty-five days. Please move to the boarding area.”
“What kind of days?” I snapped, suddenly panicked by the length of the trip.
“Universal Light Days, of course.”
I nodded, slipped the ticket into my jacket pocket, and moved in the direction she had pointed. I was suffering from my usual pre-trip jitters. I've always hated space travel, particularly in ULD time. It's too short. A ULD can begin and end before I have the time to warm up to the idea of eating breakfast.
“May I see your ticket please?” a pleasant female voice asked when I stepped into the boarding area.
I gave her the plastic sliver and she promptly held it up to an invisible eye in the adjacent wall. Then she smiled an automatic smile, lifted my hand, and slipped a ring around my middle finger.
“This is your credit band,” she instructed. “You will have access to all first class facilities on board the ship. Your in-room information center will show you what is available. Have a wonderful trip.” She drew out the syllables on wonderful.
I smiled perfunctorily and walked on ahead through the security screen and viral detector. Once cleared, a beautifully appointed older woman with a crown of thick, graying hair escorted me onto the ship and down several corridors to my room. Her dark eyes bore through my gruff exterior. Her smell was more exquisite than any blossom’s I had ever encountered, and as I turned to her and slowly inhaled, I became intoxicated with her presence.
Our steps matched one another's perfectly. We were in tune with each other. By the time we reached my stateroom, I was in love.
“Will you join me for a drink?” I asked dreamily.
“I do not drink.”
Her voice was suspiciously electronic, but I ignored the fact. “Then dinner perhaps. My treat.”
“I do not eat.”
My mind was sinking faster than my heart. “What do you do?”
“Listen. Talk. Touch. Would you like to hire my services for the trip?”
I was tempted, still reeling from her musk, but decided against it. Never before had I been reduced to hiring an android as a playmate and I wasn't about to let my standards slide now, not with the amount of credit I had to my name. I dismissed the woman with a wave of my hand.
I spent the rest of the trip in my room. It was no hardship. Everything I asked for was provided and I used my spare time to review the research I had spent the last six months compiling for this particular assignment. So when I arrived at the Royal City of Thounos, I was prepared--prepared for everything except its insidious climate.
“Is it always this humid, this hot?” I gasped when I arrived at my hotel.
The front desk clerk smiled weakly. “No. It can get much worse than this.”
I had my luggage sent over to my suite and went directly into the bar. I was still perspiring after my third drink, when a large, unusually hairy man sat down next to me.
“Mary Moore?” he asked with an outstretched hand.
I nodded, but ignored his hand. “Who are you?”
“Word has it that you're a war instigator.”
I raised my eyebrows in amusement. “Nope. Just a newswoman. I'm here on assignment.” I fanned myself with the wide lapel of my half-open blouse and looked directly at the man.
His eyes were jovial, but he made me nervous the way he constantly stroked his stubbled cheek with the back of his hand.
“Newswoman?”
“It's not as glamorous as a war instigator, but often the results are the same.”
He laughed. His shoulders shook and his belly jiggled. It was most infectious and I was compelled to laugh with him. “So, what line of work are you in?”
“I'm a hunter,” he replied.
“Oh? That sounds intriguing. What do you hunt?”
“Anyone with a price on their head.”
My throat suddenly went dry. “I see.” I reached for my glass, but he prevented me, his huge hand easily encircling my wrist. I felt like a child again, powerless against a stern man's will.
“I wouldn't drink any more of those, he advised, his eyes as kindly as a grandfather's, his grip as cruel as a vice. “They're loaded with salt. They'll make you drier than a hundred-year-old virgin.”
“What drink do you recommend?” I asked, my voice unruffled.
He released my arm. Then he stood up and pulled his shirt down from where it had stuck on his bulging belly. “I don't make recommendations to those who might become prey.”
He walked out of the bar with less of a waddle than I would have guessed.
I signaled the waiter for my bill, fingerprinted my approval, and went to find my room. Unfortunately, I had to go back outside to get to it, so by the time I reached the door of my suite, sweat was trickling across my scalp and my clothes were once again clinging to my skin.
As soon as I was identified through a single eye retinal scan, the door swung open and I went straight for the shower. I by-passed all of its temperature and density features to simply request water--cool, refreshing water. But somehow in the process, I turned on the reflector over the white tiled sink. I was startled by my own image.
I looked common, almost comical as the thin strands of my sweat-drenched hair lay flat against my head. The skin on my face was stretched too tight, making me look older and more menacing than a woman in my profession should look. My eyes drooped. My lips were colorless. I took a quick shower and afterwards sent for a makeup artist.
“Big plans for tonight?” he asked as his fingers skillfully probed the bone structure of my face.
“Big plans,” I confirmed, not wanting to admit that I was doing this purely for my own benefit.
“Do you want the job that lasts ten days or a hundred?”
“A hundred.”
His progress was slow, especially when he concentrated on my eyes. But, by the time he was done, I was pleased. I had short, thick, wavy brown hair, a permanent blush to my cheeks giving my face a fuller more innocent look, and deep-blue eyes that were painstakingly outlined to appear pensive and slightly enigmatic.
“Perfect,” I announced. Once again I could look at myself in the reflector and not see age and wear. I tipped him well. He was thrilled. He even offered me a few other services, but I declined, knowing that now, I could probably do better in the hotel bar.
I didn't try, however. I spent the next few days without leaving my suite, fine tuning the equipment I had brought with me, refining my overall plan of attack. As a trial run, I used my Stored Intelligence Processor to inject a slow-breeding virus into the communication network that linked the more isolated regions of the planet. The goal was to create periodic blackouts--ones I convinced the main computer into believing were the beginnings of a sinister plot to divide and conquer--a plot I attributed to the Ruler's new bride. It was an amazingly simple task. The computers were not very sophisticated on Tessax. They had minimal self-awareness, and what little they did have was easy to infect.
By the end of the fifth day, several skirmishes were reported between the Royal Guardians and some outpost farmers. One altercation was televised and the farmers were chanting:
“Death to queens under fifty.
Death to rulers who marry swiftly!”
My lyrics sung to my tune. I was satisfied with my progress and I hoped my employer was as well, although I did not know who or what that might be. I left my suite for the first time that night, looking for a diversion, and I didn't care what form it came in.
I was not disappointed. After sitting alone for an hour or so at the hotel bar, a beautiful young woman sat down beside me and offered to buy me a drink. Naturally, I accepted. Her hair fell to her shoulders in sun drenched waves of gold. Her skin was smooth and bronzed. Her lips were full of promise, her eyes danced coyly.
“Are you here on business?” I asked.
“Yes,” she answered, her voice warm and inviting. “Have you ever been to Tessax before?”
“No. Never. But, I can't imagine that anyone would come here twice, at least not willingly. Can you?” I nursed my drink slowly and settled into a banter I had developed over the years of meeting fellow travelers in unfamiliar bars.
“The weather is deplorable and the terrain is so flat that I hear the residents get nose bleeds every time they climb a flight of stairs.”" I droned on and on. “Not that I'm complaining. After all, I met you here, and you're absolutely gorgeous.” I prided myself on being able to start a relationship--not a depthful or long-lasting one--but the kind of relationship my lifestyle could tolerate, the kind that got me through another night.
Suddenly, my companion's mouth distorted with anger. “I know your type,” she hissed. “You know nothing about this city, much less this planet. I'd stake my life on the fact that you haven't set foot outside of this hotel yet.”
My first instinct was to ridicule the woman, but when I looked at her--her eyes now downcast, her fingers lightly caressing the stem of her glass--I saw a glimmer of tragedy in her face and it forced me to look beneath the surface, a view I usually avoided.
“You're right,” I confessed. “I haven't left my hotel room in days. I've seen very little of Thounos--just what's on the news.”
She stood up to leave. “By your looks, I thought you were going to be different from the typical traveler, but you're not. To you Tessax is just one more miserable stop on your business itinerary. Well to natives, it's more than that. It's a harsh mistress with a heart of gold. It's a place where a loving and peaceful race of people unite in their efforts to bridle the environment and build a home.”
Her eyes looked wounded and I felt shame. I reached for her arm, suddenly needing forgiveness. “I was thoughtless,” I said. “I'm sorry. I should know better than to discuss a subject I know nothing about with a woman I want to impress.”
“Why would you want to impress me?”
From her body posture, I could tell she was beginning to relent. I relaxed my grip and started to stroke her arm with my thumb. “I don't know,” I answered honestly. “You've touched me in a way I don't usually let people.” I paused for effect. “I would like to spend more time with you. I would like you to help me understand your feelings for Tessax.”
She scrutinized my face for a long time and then took my hand and led me outside. Without a word, she walked me over to a vehicle, strapped me into a seat, and then she assumed the controls. Soon we were speeding along city thoroughfares that quickly transformed into unlit, country lanes. I was surprised, but not afraid. In fact, I was feeling quite peaceful.
When we stopped, she got out of the vehicle and gestured for me to follow. “This is the Tessax I know--a quiet land, worth preserving as it is. That mound over there is my house.”
“I thought you were here on business,” I said with indignation.
“I lied.”
I laughed. “And did you lie about your name as well?”
“No. It’s really Marrelda.” She looked down at her feet with the shyness of a new bride. “Would you like to see inside my home?”
I glanced toward the mound, thinking it looked more like a dropping from some giant pre-historic animal, but decided it would be harmless to accept her invitation. As we approached it, I could see that the mound was indeed a home--rustic, but inviting. Inside was simple and warm.
It made me want to strip myself of pretenses. I got the sudden urge to listen to single note windsongs and cook a meal over an open fire--all of which I actually did, under Marrelda's guidance. After dinner, she took me on a walk outside.
“It's beautiful, isn't it?” she asked as she wrapped an arm around my waist.
“Mmmm,” I agreed, although I couldn't have disagreed more. The sky was dark with very few stars in it. There was no moon to speak of. The air was suffocating, still too humid to breathe.
Then suddenly, a remarkable smell drifted by us. Marrelda moaned softly and her hands started to explore my body. I pulled her against me, acting more on some newly acquired instinct than a practiced maneuver. The smell drifted by me again and I groaned. It was intoxicating, sweet, and fleeting. I lifted my head, frantically searching for more of the scent, already addicted to its affects.
“What is that?” I asked, groping with my nose to recapture the fragrance, the feeling.
“That's the nightbird's song.”
“It's not something I hear. It's something I smell.”
Marrelda laughed quietly. “I know. Legend has it that a long time ago, Tessax was littered with billions and billions of birds--birds of all colors and shapes and sizes. Whenever they found a mate, they would sing until they became delirious. Nothing could get them to stop.
“At first the songs were beautiful, but soon the people thought they would go mad with the noise so they came up with the only solution people ever come up with--they declared war on the birds. It didn't take long for the birds to realize that they had to choose between a silent love and an early death. Birds being birds decided that silence was far worse than death, so they continued to sing.
“All died except one very old black bird and one very young red bird. They came together out of loneliness, so they had nothing to sing about, but gradually their courteous acquaintance grew into friendship and their friendship matured into love, a love so deep that silence was a small price to pay for its survival.” Marrelda stopped.
I waited in anticipation, but when she didn’t continue, I asked impatiently, “So, where does the smell fit in?” I, continued to sniff the air, not willing to accept that the perfume was gone, and with it an almost animalistic desire for Marrelda.
“What you smell is the odor of silence. To some it is sweet, but to others it is very bitter.”
The rest of that evening we spent talking. Occasionally, the perfume wandered by me, and each time, my desire for Marrelda mounted but then it always faded before I could declare myself. It was an exquisitely annoying experience.
Later that night, Marrelda drove me back to my hotel room and I went to bed alone. I couldn't sleep. I could only think of her, which wasn't like me at all. I learned long ago that my survival depended on letting nothing come between me and my sleep. You can't incite bloodbaths for a living and expect yourself to be conscious for more than twelve or fourteen hours a day.
Just before dawn, I unpacked and set up my audiovision receiver, a piece of equipment I carted around purely for personal use. I cleared away the decorations from the wall behind my bed and focused the image generated from the machine onto the large smooth surface. I adjusted the focus until the vision of Marrelda was crisp and clear. She was stretched out on her bed, a filmy sheet draped over the lower portion of her body. Luckily it hid very little from my eyes and even less from my imagination.
I knew I shouldn't have planted the transmitter in her bedroom, but seeing her smooth, round breasts made me glad I had acted on one of my more sordid impulses. I watched her for a long time. I watched her breathe slowly and rhythmically until she turned over. Then the sheet stretched across her bottom, exposing her back and shoulders. Her curves were strong yet graceful and I thanked god that I was still alive enough not to need a perfume to appreciate her. She would be beautiful even in air that smelled rancid.
I spent the next few days intent on doing the job I was being paid to do. More skirmishes broke out. I reintroduced the desire for individuality into several layers of the society. The planet's autocratic leadership reacted in the only way it could--it tightened control, reduced people's freedom, and increased the fear factor, all of which fueled the fires of rebellion.
Under the guise of being a reporter, I went on location and interviewed people from all levels of the community, and as usual, it gave me insights I never could have obtained through the usual channels of electronic eavesdropping. As a result, I was able to accelerate my more clandestine activities.
Finally, I heard from my employer and she/he/it seemed satisfied with the course of events. S/h/it also warned me that the Ruler suspected the presence of a war instigator and had sent out a troop of assassins in search of the culprit. “Stay clear of all natives,” had been the final message.
I chuckled, thinking that my employer was no more advanced than most of the people on this planet. I had been ruining governments for years and never once had a liaison with a native interfered with or threatened my work. You can't lay the foundation for death and destruction without a healthy dose of indifference.
That night, Marrelda showed up at my front door. When she walked in, the nightbird's song came with her.
“It's good to see you,” I said, offering her a seat in my spacious entertaining area. “Can I get you anything? A drink? Food?” She was wearing her native garb, a neck to toe body suit. It wasn't becoming on either sex, not even on Marrelda.
She sat on the thickly cushioned beige carpeting, cross-legged. Her eyes looked heavy. “I've spent a lot of time thinking about you. I've tried not to. I've tried to distract myself by working double shifts at the farm, but it hasn't helped.”
Such a childlike woman, I thought, so transparent and immediate. I went to her and knelt down. I took her chin in my hand and lifted her head so that our eyes met.
“You too have filled my thoughts,” I said. Then that damn perfume stripped me of my protective veneer. It left me raw and tender, needing only the kind of comfort I knew Marrelda could give me.
Her big brown eyes looked up at me. “May I kiss you?” she whispered, her lips coming so close to mine that I couldn't speak without complying.
I gasped when we actually touched. Her mouth burned against mine. Her hands quickly ignited the rest of me and soon both of us were naked, me lying on my back, her slowly bringing her full form against mine. Her flesh was firm and cool. Mine seemed to smolder. She nestled into my neck, her thick golden curls caressing my shoulders and chest. Then she rose up on her hands, bringing her nipples, one at a time, to rest between my lips. My mouth parted and took in her sweet candy. I forced myself to savor her gifts slowly but soon my hunger grew to torturous proportions, needing more and more of her. She toyed with my desires, matched them with her own, feeding me for hours, sometimes teasing me with small portions, sometimes allowing me to gorge.
Finally, when we were both exhausted, she lay her cheek against my chest and I stroked her blond curls. For the first time in my life, I felt full after that much intimacy. Usually, I cringed at moments like these and wished I had never met the person I had just used or been used by.
That feeling of being complete continued into the next day, then into the next week, then into the next month. Marrelda and I spent most of our free time together. Although she wasn't the most knowledgeable person I had ever conversed with, her Tessaxian viewpoint on the universe was charming and frequently quite depthful. She never seemed to tire of hearing my adventures as a reporter and since I never once felt compelled to tell her the truth about myself, I was not concerned about my growing devotion for her.
“I'll be leaving soon,” I finally managed to spit out the night before I was due to depart. The war I had given birth to had matured to the point where it had a life of its own and no longer needed my nurturing.
“When?” she demanded in a small voice.
“The news service wants to replace me with a veteran war correspondent. They think it's too dangerous for someone without the right experience.”
“When?” she repeated.
I didn't know just how much of a coward I was until I avoided her question again. “I've been reassigned to Cavaran. It's a huge planet a few weeks from here. Do you know it?”
She shook her head. Her eyes narrowed.
“Why don't you come with me,” I suddenly said before I could censor the thought.
“I can't. All requests to emigrate are being refused.” Her voice was sullen. “Why don't you stay here?”
I shook my head. “They would never agree to that. No news service needs a peacetime reporter now, so there would be no reason for the Crown to extend my visitation license.”
Marrelda looked thoughtful, as if she were debating whether or not to say something. Then she blurted, “If we commit to one another, your license is automatically extended--indefinitely.”
“Really?” The idea of commitment hadn't occurred to me, and for some reason I wasn't dismissing the idea as ridiculous, which of course it was. If I stayed on Tessax, sooner or later someone would discover my past. Sooner or later I would miss my home, my credit, my power. “Would you be willing to buy some children?” I heard myself ask. What the hell was I thinking?
A smile played on her lips. “I would even be willing to make children, if that's what you want.”
Tears threatened my vision. No one had ever said anything like that to me before. No one had ever offered me the gift of life. “How quickly can we commit? My flight is scheduled for tomorrow.”
“I'll see what I can do. I know someone in emigration. I'll get his help.”
The next thing I knew, she was out the door. I was disappointed. I had planned a very special evening together.
I was also frightened. There were many times I had wondered what it would take to get me to give up my lifestyle. I assumed vast amounts of credit would be involved, perhaps even a small planet to call my own. It never occurred to me that all it would take was a young woman's promise.
I packed up my equipment, wanting it off Tessax no matter what happened. Although the planet's technology was not sophisticated enough to decipher what my equipment could do, someday it would be, and the equipment's discovery could hurt my family, my descendents.
By the time Marrelda returned, I had already eaten and was well under way to getting drunk.
She took my hands and squeezed them. “Everything is arranged. We'll commit tomorrow. I'm so excited. We'll make a wonderful life together.”
I buried my head in her neck. “Let's start tonight.” I tried to sound sexy, but I’m sure I came across as pleading.
She stepped away from me. I thought the action cruel, but her eyes were kind and soft. “No!” she said firmly. “A woman must spend the night before her commitment alone, purifying herself and her soul.”
“But I don't want you to be pure.”
“We both must do it. It is tradition.”
There was nothing I could say to convince her otherwise. When she left, my body ached for her. My mind grew bored without her. After an hour or so I decided to console myself in the bar downstairs and went into the bedroom to change clothes. As I searched for a clean shirt, the audiovision receiver caught my eye. I had forgotten all about it. I hadn't used it since that first night I had met Marrelda and couldn't sleep.
I started to dismantle it and then thought of a better plan. I put it back together again and turned it on. I could hear Marrelda's voice, although her bedroom was empty.
“You're a hard hearted man,” I heard her say in a light manner.
“And you're soft through and through.”
I didn't recognize the man's voice, but it was sarcastic. Then there was a long silence and I didn't know what to think. Marrelda had said nothing about having guests for the evening. I thought about turning the machine off and going directly to her home. She might be in trouble, I rationalized, but I couldn't make my body move. My eyes were stuck on the wall and its image of Marrelda's empty bed.
Unfortunately, it wasn't empty long. She brought the man in with her, leading him by the hand, the way she had done so often with me. The man was large with lots of hair, but I wasn't able to get a good look at his face. He was turned toward Marrelda and beginning to undress her.
She smiled at him comfortably, as if what he was doing was a normal occurrence. “Offworlders are such a stupid lot,” she said, as she kissed the man's round, fleshy shoulders and chest. “It takes so little for them to believe that natives are dim-witted and backward.”
“Will you be able to get her equipment back here by yourself?” The man's voice was muffled by Marrelda’s flesh.
“No. Probably not.” She unfastened the man’s body suit and sank to her knees as she pulled the suit down.
“Then I'll come with you tomorrow.”
My whole body went rigid as I watched. If someone had come along and tapped me on the shoulder, I would have splintered into a thousand pieces. My Marrelda. What was she doing? Any explanation would have sufficed.
I blinked. The large man was flat on his back, his legs parted, his arms reaching for Marrelda's perfect form. Suddenly, I recognized him. He was the hunter from the first night at the bar.
“Does that stupid bitch make you feel the way I do?” he asked with a husky laugh.
I waited for her answer as if it would make a difference to my shattered soul. She only shrugged. “I don't want to discuss her with you, not now.”
“Why not?” the man asked, positioning himself for an invasion. “Don't tell me you developed feelings for the little runt.”
“My feelings are my business." Marrelda straddled his hips and gently opened herself to him.
“You will be able to kill her, won't you?”
“Yes,” she moaned, moving up and down, her glorious fingers guiding and stroking. “I'll be able to kill her.”
I don't know how I spent the rest of that night--motionless maybe, sobbing perhaps. By morning, I knew my ego was suffering as much as my heart. After all, I was a professional manipulator, a rare and talented woman who could alter billions of lives without so much as asking why. Right and wrong were not opposite ends of a continuum to me. They were just another muddy puddle along the road of life. And now a simple being from a simple world had rendered me impotent.
Later that morning, when I opened my front door for Marrelda, she said, “Hello, my love.”
I smiled in my usual way and kissed her as if I was still hungry for her. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the hunter lurking at the end of the corridor. During the night I had not been able to make a decision about when I would kill Marrelda, or even how. But with her in my arms, I hoped I would have the decency to make it as painless for her as possible.
“So, what do we do now?” I asked, ushering her into the suite.
She told me her plans for our commitment ceremony and all that would be entailed in getting the proper offworlder license. Her voice had the same silky quality it always had. Her smile was no less genuine than it had ever been. She was good, I concluded--as good as I was at being a fraud. But I had the advantage. I knew what she was up to. I saw her put the poison in my drink as plainly as if she had done it under my nose. Of course, had she done it yesterday, I never would have noticed.
I toyed with her for quite a while by putting the drink to my lips, then laughing or making a comment, and putting the drink back down at my side. A sensor planted under my thumbnail told me that it was a slow acting poison, one that would require the full drink to do the job. I raised the glass to my mouth and ran my tongue along the rim. All the while, the hunter peered at me through the door I had left ajar for him.
“I love you,” I said, taking my first sip.
For a split second, there was pain in Marrelda's eyes.
That pain bought her a few more seconds of life. I took a gulp of the drink, held the liquid in my mouth, and then let it trickle back into the glass. “You are the best friend I have ever had,” I whispered.
This time exasperation shadowed her face, which annoyed me. So I pulled my stub-nosed laser out of its holder beneath my shirt and leveled it at her head. “Come in,” I ordered to the hunter. “Or your young whore dies.”
Marrelda's eyes bulged in disbelief. She looked toward the hunter frantically as he sauntered in. For a moment, I saw her vulnerability, the child-like woman I had come to adore, and it clouded my vision. I had to look away from her, and in that second she swung her leg at my hand and deftly knocked the weapon from it.
As I watched her scurry toward the laser, and then bend down without taking her icy eyes off me to pick the gun up, I made my peace with death. She pointed the weapon toward me and a blast exploded in my ears. Then, as if in slow motion, Marrelda crumpled in half and fell to the floor.
I didn't understand until I saw the hunter push a weapon into the belt of his pants. “That's going to cost you your bonus,” he snarled. “Get your equipment and get out of here.”
“Bonus?” I stammered. “You're my employer?”
The hunter stroked his cheek and stared at me. “When I saw that you weren't going to drink that poison, I was impressed. I thought, damn, I got my money's worth with you. But now that she's dead, and I'm the one who had to do it, I've changed my mind.” The large man went to my bar, picked up a bottle, and shoved it into his mouth. "I needed her.”
I walked over to Marrelda. I had never seen the sight of blood before--not real blood, close-up. I squatted down and put my fingers in it. I was surprised at its warmth and thickness. I raised my fingers to my nose and gagged.
Then I realized that it wasn't the blood I smelled. A nightbird's song had drifted in. I wiped my hands on the carpet and stood up. I rushed out the door, searching for fresh air, but the stench of silence followed me.
I left Tessax that day and never looked back. I never returned to my profession either. I can't honestly say that the experience changed me in any positive manner. My life is still barren. But I like it that way. The only real difference is that I now know the truth about silence. Its odor comes to me everyday and it is never sweet.
