The Starward Exiles Entry 6

An Unwanted Proposal

In my last entry, Madulluel, the sponsor of my mission, had met us on the Droguldai dock. Since the Droguldai need their unique source of light to breathe, we could not stay outside for long. So, she led us to her ship.

Once we’d stepped into her craft, we were bathed in the strange Droguldai light, which shone down on us from bulbs screwed into the ceiling. This light is somewhat difficult to describe. Imagine a dying fire. The low heat produces an orange hue, rather than fully illuminating the room. However, I don’t mean to say the light was faint. I could see clearly enough, but walking down those halls made one feel as though they were boring their way through an orange peel. As I said before, the stone in the center of their foreheads and the stones running down their backs and arms convert this light into oxygen, which is then used by the body. So, this glow was a necessity.

The Droguldai seemed to be aware of the monotony of their color scheme, for they had white candles with blue flames mounted to sconces running down the hall. This blue light added some badly needed depth to our surroundings and gave the ship a more interesting interior if nothing else. I and the crew were guided down multiple twists and turns until we crossed the threshold of what can only be described as a massive throne room or hall. Stepping through a tall archway, I noticed a large golden chair with a red cushion—at least I believe it was red. Again, it was difficult to make out the true color of anything in that light—and behind this throne was a pair of smaller doors. We walked down a massive hall. The room was flat and empty, save for that single seat at the far end. I noticed Heath, Helen, and Cinthia look at each other nervously. Cinthia attempted to console Heath and Helen with a sad smile. The two returned her grin, but then their eyes lowered to the floor. I looked at Jill, who gave me a stern look and shook her head once, indicating that it would be unwise to ask questions either now or in the future.

We passed the throne and took the smaller door to our right. Once we’d entered the next room, I saw a small table with two chairs facing one another centered in front of a giant window, where ships flew in and out of view. It was easy to guess the purpose of this room. Lovers would sit, staring at one another across the small, intimate table, sharing a meal and staring at the planets as they passed by. The romantic illusion might’ve worked were it not for the room’s size and the cold metal plates forming the floor and walls.

Madulluel’s entourage directed me and the girls to sit down on a metal block that ran alongside the right wall. I suppose it was meant to serve as a bench, but I must say our seating was very uncomfortable. Jill, Cinthia, Helen, and I all sat along the wall, but Madulluel motioned for Heath to sit at the table. He did as he was told, and Madulluel sat down across from him. She took his hands. Heath winced but did not pull his hands away. He met her eyes, his scowl gone and replaced with a mask of absolute neutrality that was somehow more intimidating. Madulluel met his gaze, and I saw the gleam of tears pooling in her eyes. She broke his gaze a moment later and looked at her entourage, who had been crowded around the doorway. The group of Droguldai men and women, ten in all, left the room without a word.

Cinthia took my hand and squeezed it. I turned to look at her, and her big eyes shone with tears as well. “You’re going to hear some embarrassing details about our lives. Please don’t judge us. I want to be friends.”

I patted her hand gently and smiled. I know the young woman was in her thirties, but hearing the earnestness behind those words and staring at the sadness and hope in those large eyes made it impossible not to think of her as a child, a child who needed comforting. “Don’t worry. God doesn’t care about your past, only your future.”

Cinthia smiled. “I was hoping you’d say something like that.”

“We’ll see if he still says that once he hears the details,” Helen said. “He might call us Sirens and pull out a crucifix.”

“Stop it, Helen,” Cinthia said, sounding more childish than ever.

“Both of you, hush,” Jill hissed.

Madulluel stared out the window, which was to her right. Heath did the same, and a terrible silence filled the air. At last, Madulluel said in a soft voice, “Mary wishes to see you. She wants you to see your children.”

“They’re better off without me,” Heath said quickly. “They have a father. It will be easier for them if he remains their only father.”

“Will it?” Madulluel asked. “Again, you lie.”

“No. I don’t,” Heath snapped, glaring at her.

Madulluel turned from the window and met his eyes again. “I’m sorry. I can see why you would believe that. But it’s not true. If you don’t see them, they’ll always wonder why their father didn’t want them. But I don’t believe that about you. You do want them, and you are thinking about what’s best for them. I know that. I’m certain of it. I wouldn’t—”

She broke off, and Jill seized the opportunity. “Please forgive me, madam.” Madulluel turned to her, and gave her a patient but neutral gaze that somehow still conveyed a hint of annoyance. As I studied Jill’s expression, I could tell she understood some kind of danger. I couldn’t say what that danger was. I do not believe Madulluel would’ve done anything to harm her. I’ve had too many conversations with the Droguldai leader to believe she was some kind of threat. I never would’ve accepted her patronage had I thought she was in any way a tyrant. But Jill understood something I didn’t, and she was choosing her words very carefully.

“I know I was not involved in your . . . situation. But the monk is here, and there is a mission. Perhaps this isn’t the best time to discuss your feelings and the past. There’s business.”

“They interconnect,” Madulluel said. “And what doesn’t interconnect must be dealt with before the mission starts. Heath has loose ends, and he might not have another chance to address them. The war is about to begin in earnest.”

“What do you mean?” Jill asked.

“I mean that you might not have the chance to die of your affliction,” Madulluel said coolly.

“Play nice, Mad,” Helen warned the Droguldai. Cinthia squeezed my hand.

Madulluel straightened in her chair and lifted her chin. “I meant no threat, Helen. And I’m not playing. I’m sorry. Matters are tense. I wish I could be more benevolent.”

“You apologize too much, Mad,” Cinthia said, her grip loosening around my white knuckles. “You didn’t know.”

I noticed Helen open her mouth to shoot some hot retort toward the naïve girl, but Jill gave her a look that was colder than space. Helen’s mouth clamped shut, and her eyes hit the floor.

I suppose under normal circumstances Helen would’ve been more resentful toward Jill. After all, Helen had come to Jill’s aid, and Jill had just rebuked her for almost snapping at Cinthia. But Jill was very protective of Cinthia, and Helen seemed to understand this. Also, Jill’s absence from the situation, whatever that situation might’ve been, had given her an air of neutrality, which had, over time, turned to authority. She was, in a sense, the ambassador between the two, for though they tried to get along, their personalities often put them at odds, Cinthia being overly optimistic, Helen being overly pessimistic.

But more than anything else, I sensed that I was in the middle of a high-stakes game I did not understand and couldn’t fathom why. I was not overly familiar with this crew, but I did, in some measure, know Madulluel. In my estimation, she was a somber and fair woman, someone who understood the threat the Nordics represented to all the alien races. To my knowledge, she was not a believer, although she was slowly warming to the concept of faith, and I’d come to hope for her conversion given enough time. But for the present, she understood the threat Christianity represented to the Nordics. The concept of a God outside of the universe who created the universe was death to the propagandistic doctrine the Nordics tried to plant on a planet before an invasion. The spread of Christianity was vital to limiting the effectiveness of the Nordics’ tactics. She had determined to fund mission trips throughout the galaxy and was sponsoring representatives from every Christian denomination. I was acting as the Russian Orthodox representative, and for my part, her political calculations meant little to me because Christianity is true, and I was willing to serve in whatever capacity, so long as I could spread the truth in the process. But in my dealings with Madulluel, she’d never struck me as Machiavellian. She seemed, if anything, very humble. So, why was everyone acting so afraid?

I thought about the strange nature of this meeting and realized that the three girls sitting on either side of me were not afraid of Madulluel, but Heath. More specifically, they were afraid of the interaction between Madulluel and Heath. When seen from this light, the whole conversation began to make more sense. Jill was not expressing impatience with Madulluel for discussing personal matters. She was trying to keep Madulluel from reaching out because Heath was furious with her. Cinthia was not rebuking Madulluel for apologizing. She was reminding Heath that Madulluel didn’t know, whatever that meant. And Helen wasn’t warning Madulluel to be nice to Jill; she was telling Madulluel that Heath was protective of Jill, and such glib comments might earn his ire. And Madulluel was telling all of them that she must have this conversation, no matter Heath’s reaction.

This revelation caused me to suspect that Heath was a dangerous man, so I was surprised when I saw Madulluel turn to Heath and say, “I love you. I love you with everything I am. I’m sorry. I know that hurts you, and I know that hurts them.” She tilted her head to the girls sitting beside me. “But it’s the truth, and the truth is all I have. I know you will never love me back, and I’ve accepted this. But that’s what makes what I’m about to say so much harder.” There was a long pause, then she whispered, “Mary isn’t the only one who would like her children’s father to see them.”

Heath’s eyes widened. “We agreed that she should be with your people. She takes after you. Mine won’t accept her.”

“I know,” Madulluel said. “I know. It gets worse. I need you to marry me.”

The girls gasped. Heath’s face turned red, and he began to shake. “No,” he spat through clenched teeth. “After what you did.” He shook his head. “No.”

Madulluel smiled. There was no humor in it. “It’s terrible. Isn’t it? It seems so self-serving. I know. But I did what I did because it was the only way, and if I hadn’t done it, your people would still be in chains. You know that.” Heath was silent. He looked away from her. Madulluel went on. “I’m not defending myself, but I’m asking this of you for the same reason. I was the elshyloc (the Droguldai’s version of a president), so when my people saw our child, it mattered. And when I declared our peoples equal, they had no right legally or logically to argue. But I’m not the elshyloc anymore. My devotion to you cost me that position. But I still have enough support to remain a Nysilloc (the Droguldai’s version of a congressman). And though our alliance has enemies, I can still garner enough support to bring my people into the war with the Nordics and save your race. I know you care nothing for me, but don’t you care about them?”

Heath stared at Madulluel for a long time.

“Don’t say it,” Cinthia whispered.

“He’s gonna say it,” Helen whispered.

“You’d use them to bring me back to your bed,” Heath said.

Madulluel stood and threw the table. She thrust her hands under it and hurled it into the air. The table arched and crashed to the ground in front of us. She stormed out of the room, her hands cupped over her mouth to keep from weeping aloud.

Cinthia sprang up and took off after her. Before leaving the room, she whirled around and shouted, “Oh, Heath! Why?” Then she was gone.

Heath sat in his chair, arms and legs crossed, glowering at nothing. A long silence filled the room, then Helen said, “Well, that went exactly as expected.”

Heath glared at her. “You knew she was going to ask that?”

“You saw her at the docks,” Helen said. “She was scared out of her mind. I knew there had to be something.”

Heath looked at Jill. “What do you think?”

“Personally, I don’t get it. You’re not that charming,” Jill said.

“Seriously,” Heath said.

“I think this is her ship, so you better say yes,” Jill said. “You can play runaway bride later.”

“That would be lying,” Heath said.

“You’re a polygamist. What do you care?” Jill asked.

“Was,” Heath said. “And not by choice. Just like now.”

“Freedom’s relative, Heath,” Jill said.

Helen elbowed me in the ribs. “A little more than you bargained for. Hey, Monk?”

“I must confess. I’m having a hard time following what’s happening,” I said. This wasn’t entirely true, but I had no idea what to say. I repent of lying.

“Basically, Heath, Cinthia, Mary, I, and some other women were part of a Nordic zoo,” Helen explained. “Mary was Heath’s first wife, his real wife, if you want to put it that way. They were abducted together. When it was all said and done, she broke it off, and that’s why Heath’s an ass.” She gave him a wink. Heath only glared at her. “Anyway, before that, Madulluel bought us for entertainment, but she eventually began to suspect we were just as sentient as she is and felt bad. Then she fell in love with Heath, drugged him, and had a baby. Then she showed that baby to her government and declared our race equal to theirs. Not that everybody was happy about it, but she was the boss at the time, and they couldn’t say anything. The Droguldai are no longer in the human sex slave business. But now, she ain’t the boss no more, so it looks like she’s got a scheme to keep our people on the same team, but it’ll require putting Heath back in the business. If you get my meaning.”

“Just marrying him won’t be enough, though,” Jill said as if she were thinking aloud. “If this was just a political marriage, she’d find some big wig on Earth.”

“I doubt they’d take her,” Helen said. “Too much bad blood.”

“Maybe, but she can’t just marry any old guy, especially a human who wasn’t even born on Earth,” Jill said. “There’s more to this.”

Just then, Cinthia and Madulluel returned.

“Can we try again?” Cinthia asked. “And can you be nice, Heath? Please? This is hard for everyone.”

“No.” Madulluel said. “I deserved that.”

“No. You didn’t,” Cinthia said.

Madulluel put a hand on Cinthia’s shoulder. “Why are you so kind to me?”

Cinthia smiled and grabbed Madulluel’s hand, but she didn’t answer. Madulluel turned to Heath. “We have to finish this conversation, even if neither of us wants to. Are you ready?”

Heath sighed and uncrossed his arms and legs. “Sure.”

I’ll continue recording this conversation in the next entry, Lord willing.

May God grant you peace.

Hieromonk Nicholas Petrov

(The first three entries of Pinkerton’s Bestiary will be available to all readers. Beginning with later logs, this series will continue exclusively for paid subscribers, where it expands into deeper worldbuilding, monster descriptions, case histories, and ongoing narrative threads.)

“If you’d like to read more of my work, The Familiar (a dark urban fantasy) is out on Amazon and garypaulvarner.org. Gerome is a Familiar who gave his blood to a vampire. But now the vampire wants his wife. This book is the first of a larger series called Annals of S.O.L.M. If you’d like to support my work, The Familiar will be found on Amazon, Apple Books, Barnes & Noble, and more. I hope you enjoyed this entry of The Starward Exiles.”