The Silvers Read online

  “B? Could I come in with you tonight? I’ll sleep on the floor. I thought I wouldn’t miss the ship, but I do.”

  B shakes his head, stands up. “No. You’ve got your world, I’ve got mine. A big metal hunk of it, anyway. You sleep well.”

  Imms knows he won’t. Isn’t sure why.

  “Can I show you something?” he asks, desperate to delay B.

  “What sort of something?”

  “I can’t tell. You have to see.”

  B looks automatically at the hulking shadow of the Byzantine, checking to make sure none of his team is outside. “How far away is it?”

  “Not far.”

  Twenty minutes later, B is grumbling. “What the hell could I want to see all the way out here?” he demands. “What if they need me for something on the ship? It’ll take us another goddamn half hour to get back.”

  Imms is slightly anxious, but decides B doesn’t really sound angry. “It’s a good surprise. I think.”

  “You think.”

  They come to a shallow basin, and Imms leads B down into it, toward a cluster of rocks along one wall. Part of the basin is filled with water, stagnant and tarnished-looking. When they reach the rock cluster, Imms goes to work, moving one, then another. B steps in to help. As they move the fourth stone, a slab of dirty steel is exposed, the letters hroug visible through the grime.

  “Jesus,” B says.

  “It’s yours, isn’t it?” Imms can barely contain his excitement. “Grena said you sent something here a long time ago, like your ship, but much smaller. She asked if any of us saw it.”

  “And you said?”

  Imms looks at B, wishing B were happier to see his small ship. He’s not sure why he kept it a secret from the humans, from the other Silvers. When he found it, he wanted to keep it safe. Once it was safe, he wanted to visit it. And once he started visiting it, he didn’t want anyone else to visit it. “I didn’t say anything. I wanted to, but I couldn’t.”

  “What do you mean, you couldn’t?”

  “I like it.” Imms touches the metal.

  “Do you know what it is?”

  Imms turns back to him. “It takes pictures.”

  “Did.” B uncovers more of the mangled machine.

  “I didn’t mean to shut it off. It was following me, and it fell off the rocks. It seemed hurt, so I thought it might help to put it in the water.”

  B shakes his head. “The worst thing you could have done.” But he’s almost smiling. “So you touched this thing, without knowing what it was, without knowing what it might—” He stops, looks at Imms. “Of course you did.” He brushes some of the dust from the metal.

  “What is that word?”

  “Breakthrough. That’s this machine’s name.”

  “It’s not alive,” Imms says. It’s almost a question, but he knows the answer.

  B shakes his head. “No.”

  “It moves.”

  “We made it do that.”

  Imms doesn’t want to know how. It is a strange idea that humans can make something move that isn’t alive.

  “Do you have any idea how many millions of dollars went into this?”

  “How many?” Imms asks.

  “I don’t know. A lot. This thing was supposed to take pictures of everything on the planet, so we would know what to expect before we got here.”

  “Do you want it back?”

  B stares at the glittering of white dust on rusted metal.

  “You keep it. Something to remember me by.”

  “I didn’t show any of the others.”

  “Quite the rogue, aren’t you?”

  “The what?”

  B looks around at the basin. “You go it alone now, huh?”

  “I have Lons.”

  “Who?”

  “He’s sick.”

  “Right, the one you told me about. That’s it?”

  Imms nods.

  B scratches his head. “Your clan won’t take you back because—because you’ve had contact with me?”

  “And Joele.”

  “I don’t get it. You guys can’t get angry. So why do they—I mean, why wouldn’t they let you back in, unless they’re pissed at you?”

  “They’re not mad. This is just the way it has to be.”

  “Well, I don’t see why.” B looks at the shallow pond again. “You don’t drink from there, do you? It looks filthy.”

  “No.”

  B stands. “Good thing there’s no predators around. I’d have to worry about you getting eaten.”

  Imms tilts his head. Why would B worry about him? “Predators. Like wildcats?”

  “Mm-hm. Or grizzlies. Wolves.”

  “I don’t know grizzlies.”

  “Bears.”

  “I’d go into the ground,” Imms says. “I’d be safe.”

  “What if the grizzly dug you out, like I did?”

  “I’d go deeper.” Imms has something else he can show B. “I can do that. The others can only go into the beginning of the ground. But I keep going.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Watch.” Imms lies on the ground. He sinks into the surface after a moment, and the bright ground covers him like frost. Imms knows B will have to concentrate to keep track of Imms’s outline. Slowly the contours of Imms’s body will disappear, sucking down a small funnel of pebbles and dust. Imms lets this happen, imagining B can hear the scrape and crackle of Imms inside the ground. Imms holds perfectly still. He hears the muffled sound of B’s voice and wonders what B is saying. He goes deeper, so deep he can’t hear B. This part of the ground is soft, cool. Dark. It’s harder to fit himself to it, the way he fits with the surface. But he manages. He closes his eyes.

  And goes deeper.

  He’s not afraid, but he knows it’s time to stop. It’s too dark here, too easy to lose direction. So he works his way up and emerges, dusty and grinning. B’s expression is one Imms has seen before—one he wants to learn. It is hard, still, furrowed, and afraid.

  B is afraid. This half registers with Imms before his excitement takes over. “That’s as deep as I’ve ever gone,” he announces.

  “Didn’t think you were coming back up.”

  An idea occurs to Imms. “Want to try?”

  “Me?” B takes a step back, as though the question itself might be dangerous. “I can’t do that.”

  “If I’m holding on to you, it might work. I can take things into the ground with me—quilopea, and a snake, once.”

  “Thanks but no thanks, pardner. I’ve got to get back.”

  “Please.” Imms suddenly can’t think of anything he’d like better than to show B what being inside the ground is like.

  “It won’t work. And what the hell would I want to do it for? I’d get a lungful of dust.”

  “You can hold your breath. We’ll just be there a few seconds.”

  B stares at the ground. When he finally looks at Imms, Imms tries to make his face show how much he wants this.

  B sighs, sinks to his knees, and lies down beside Imms. For a second, Imms is afraid to touch B. What if this does hurt him? It won’t. Imms is sure of this. B will be a part of Imms under the ground, and this will protect him.

  They put their arms around each other the way they do each night; pebbles dig into their sides as they shift, trying to get comfortable.

  “Ready?” Imms says the numbers three, two, and one in his own language. He starts to sink. B remains on the surface. Imms stops.

  “I told you it wouldn’t work.” B twists to get away.

  “You don’t want to go under, so you’re not going under.”

  “You’re right, I don’t want to.”

  “You have to want to. Think about what you’ll look like. You’ll look like the ground.”

  B takes a deep breath. Imms hopes he is imagining himself vanishing. B lets out a sound of surprise when his body sinks an inch or so into the earth. He immediately resists, wrests free of Imms’s grip, and gets to his feet.
r />   “Shit.”

  “You almost did it,” Imms says, not wanting B to give up now.

  B is breathing hard. “I’ve had enough. Let’s get back.”

  Imms makes himself frown. “I don’t remember how to get back to the ship from here.”

  “You’re not fucking serious.”

  “I’m really sorry.”

  Imms tries to look frightened. B’s eyes are so wide, so furious. But then Imms’s face contorts, his shoulders shake, and suddenly he snorts so hard he falls forward onto the ground, laughing. “I’m kidding!” he shouts gleefully.

  B kicks some dust onto him. “You’re a shit, you know.” He kicks more dust, and through it, Imms sees he’s grinning.

  Imms spits, and while he’s trying to get the dust off his tongue, B tackles him and pins him to the ground. “How do you like that?” B asks. Imms, still laughing, tries to catch his breath. “Wipe that smile off your face, or I’ll wipe it off for you.” Imms starts to sink into the ground. “Oh no you don’t.” B grabs his wrists. “No more of that.” He stands, hauling Imms with him. Imms falls forward, their heads bump, and their mouths find one another. Imms tastes the dust, feels the grit in B’s mouth. He has the same grit in his own mouth.

  B stops kissing him and stares at him. “What?” Imms asks.

  “I just—” B kisses him. “I don’t know why.”

  Imms does. He knows why B is here, why B touches him, why they both have secrets. It’s because Imms has shed the ordinary like a harmful but comforting habit, and now he matches B in strength and in wanting and in restlessness.

  He keeps going deeper.

  A week before the team is scheduled to leave the Silver Planet, B decides he’d best stop seeing Imms. Part of him wants to be a coward about it: Just don’t go to the rocks tonight. It’ll be too awkward, saying good-bye. And what’s the point? He has no obligation to Imms. It’s nice to lie beside someone, that’s all. He has felt so little for so long. Now his bones have grown fierce, his muscles have a job. Imms is new and alive, in a way that Gumm, Grena, Vir, and Joele can’t be. How do you say good-bye to someone who isn’t really someone? Who is an idea, a catalyst, an unanchored heart? He wants to let what’s between them go, the same way he picked it up—without thinking, without trying.

  He doesn’t go to the rocks that night, and he lies in bed wondering how long Imms waits for him. He wonders what Imms feels when he doesn’t show up. Sadness—can Imms feel sadness? Confusion? Nothing at all? The idea that Imms might accept his absence and move on while he’s here sleepless is too much. He pictures Imms lying cold and shivering on the ground. He remembers digging the still body out of the pale dust of the planet. The dark blood, the foundering heart.

  Someone taps on his door. He thinks for a wild moment that Imms has found his way on board the ship, has found him, but then Gumm’s voice says, “Cap’n?”

  B gets up and opens the door.

  Gumm looks sheepish, uncertain. “You might want to—maybe come to the kitchen. Vir’s acting funny.”

  B goes to the kitchen. Vir is sitting at the table, gripping its edges. Her eyes are glassy as a Silver’s. She is silent as B takes a seat across from her.

  “Vir?” B says.

  “I’m dreaming,” she says.

  “What about?”

  “Home.”

  “It’s been on my mind too.”

  “Who did you love there?”

  B scratches his head. “My family. My mother and my sister. And a man. We were together a long time, but it didn’t work out. You met him once. Matty?”

  Vir nods.

  “Let’s get you back to bed. Okay?”

  “Grena read them stories. And I taught them the days of the week.” She laughs.

  B stands. “Come on. We’ll be home soon. Get some sleep.”

  “It talks to me,” Vir says. “On the table. In its language.”

  “It’s gone, Vir,” B reminds her. “We got rid of it.”

  “Oh,” Vir says. Then, again, “Oh.” She shifts. “But now its family won’t touch it. Like baby birds.”

  “It’s dead.” He waits for her reproach. For her to tell him that he killed the creature or that he forced her to kill it.

  “It’s still there.”

  “The body, you mean?”

  “Still on the table.”

  “I’ll have Joele dispose of the body in the morning.”

  “I’d like to go to bed,” Vir tells him. “Let me just do one more check on the lab.”

  He takes her arm, and when they leave the kitchen, she lets him steer her, not to the lab, but to her room. She asks if she can sing him a lullaby. He says yes, even though he’s not the one going to sleep. It helps, though. Her dreaming voice is in his mind when at last he goes to his own room and lies down.

  They’ll go home in a week, all of them, and he can forget the pale planet under a black sky, and bruised people with drifting hearts.

  B goes for a walk two days later, desperate to be off the ship. He goes without a sweatjack and walks until he’s numb with cold. As he returns to the Byzantine, he imagines seeing Imms, and is so surprised when he does that he stops dead. Imms is wandering near the belly of the ship. He has found the lab’s exterior hatch. B feels a surge of relief and irritation. He tries not to run to him.

  “Don’t you dare,” B says, sweeping Imms into the shadow of the ship with one arm. “You have a death wish?”

  Imms’s eyes widen, then he smiles. “I wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

  “Look—”

  “I haven’t seen you.”

  “We’re not going to see each other anymore.”

  “Because you’re leaving?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Not for days.”

  “What’s it matter? We ought to get used to it.”

  “That ain’t square.”

  B whacks his shoulder. “Quit quoting that stupid book.”

  “Quit being an asshole.”

  B raises an eyebrow. The tone is pretty good. The right combination of brazen and indignant. “We’re not meeting anymore. And you’re not coming within sight of this ship. Do you understand?”

  “You can’t tell me what to do.” The defiance in Imms’s expression doesn’t look feigned.

  “I can, and I will. Now you get the hell out of here before I drop-kick you across the planet.”

  “I hate you,” Imms says. And the fact that he can’t doesn’t make it sting any less.

  Imms looks for a moment like he might touch B. Like he might need to touch B. But he goes without another word, and B spends the rest of the day feeling like shit. He pummels himself for the promise he made Imms. That he’d protect him. Wouldn’t let anyone hurt him. Shit, once his team leaves, others will come. They’ll find Imms. Study him, speak to him. Maybe kill him. And B will never know.

  He’ll never know what happens to his unexpected pardner.

  After two nights without B, Imms returns to the lake. It will just be him and Lons now, and that should be enough. He has company, he has food, he has water. Silvers don’t need any more than that.

  “Wake up.”

  Lons is sleeping, eyes closed, no smile. His secrets are gone.

  “Wake up,” Imms says, louder.

  Imms shakes him, gently. Lons’s chest is still. His heart is off.

  “Lons.”

  Lons’s eyes open for a moment. They travel back and forth and go still on Imms. His smile returns, but the movement of it across his face is weak. Lons is shutting off.

  “Lons, take a breath,” Imms orders. Lons shuts his eyes.

  “Lons!” Imms doesn’t know why he’s afraid. Lons is shutting off because he hurts, and he is ready.

  “Lons, wake up.”

  Imms carefully removes the bandages, looking for Lons’s heart somewhere beneath the cracked skin. He finally sees the shadow of it, slumped at one side of Lons’s belly.

  “If you go, I’ll be Alone,” Imms s
ays.

  Lons sleeps without breathing. After a while, the dark stone of his heart wanders slowly up to his chest and rests there. Imms turns away and lies down beside Lons. He bumps Lons’s quiet body as he tries to get comfortable. He reaches back and tugs one of Lons’s arms free and drapes it over his own head, so that it helps block the light from the ground. He sleeps.

  The humans have dumped the dead Silver out of the door in the underbelly of the ship. The body lies in the ship’s shadow, broken. The Silver’s chest is cut. So is his thigh. Imms sees how the humans have chased his heart.

  Imms climbs up the belly of the ship. It’s difficult. The Silver Planet has little to climb, and he is not particularly strong or practiced. The hatch has a combination lock, like the safe the Rough Riders force Tin Star to rob. This is the door that leads to the lab. He’s sure of it.

  He tries the same numbers that opened the Emergency Only door and is pleased to hear the lock’s quiet concession. The door opens into an angled chute with a set of rungs along one side. Weak light spills through a grate at the top. The air bubbles with unnatural smells. He hears footsteps. This is what he wants. He wants to see the place where Silvers are hurt. Where humans let their anger turn them dangerous. He climbs up the rungs to the grate. He can see the floor of the lab, dark, shiny blue. Joele’s large feet go by. Imms hears her say, “What about more of the yellow shit? Would that help preserve it?”

  “I don’t want to preserve it,” says a soft voice. The female who cried in the kitchen—Vir. “I’ve taken all the pictures I need.”

  “People will want to see the real thing.” Joele’s feet pass by the grate again. Imms shrinks against the chute wall.

  “How much did you use? It’s making my nose burn.”

  “Sorry. Am I creating a toxic work environment?”

  Imms hears a small splash, then Joele’s voice moves closer to Vir’s. “Double, double, toil and trouble, heart of Silver, preserved in bubbles.”

  “Get that out of here.”

  “I thought you wanted to study it.”

  “You ought to do something about the body.” Vir sounds hollow. That hollowness is more frightening than the violence that snaps in Joele’s footsteps.

  “Why?”

  “B will see.”