When I first met Zander Xino, universally renowned explorer and daredevil, I thought he was an absolute prick.
To be clear, he warranted that assumption. I was just minding my own business as I sipped a cocktail in a run-down pub whose name I don’t remember on Manira, the fourth moon of a gas giant over in the Brine Galaxy. He was the one who waltzed right up to my hightop with a lazy grin on his face and that silly hat on his head, clearly drunk to the tips of his toes and with no concept whatsoever of personal space.
“Heyyyy,” he drawled, “I recognize you!”
I flicked my eyes towards him and gave him a once-over. Bipedal, mammalian, and vaguely Human in appearance, though his lilac skin and dark blue hair didn’t match any Human coloring I had seen before. I have a near-perfect memory for faces and his was slightly familiar, but I was sure I’d never met him before.
“Yeaaaah,” he continued as he leaned hard against my table. I automatically leaned back and wrapped my tail around one of the legs of my stool so I wouldn’t fall off. “You did a shu, uh, a show last month in the capitol, right?” He waved his free arm vaguely in the air. “Was’a weird dance thing, right?”
As a matter of fact, I had been to the planet’s capitol a month before for a performance. I had decided to demonstrate the traditional Lo’sha’mi dance practiced by the Nirians. I liked the style well enough, as emulating the flicks and twists of Nirian tentacles was a challenge for a being like me who only had four limbs and a tail to work with. I had to make do with a special garment made of numerous strands of fabric, each of which could fly into the air if I moved just the right way.
“Yes, that was me,” I told him in a level tone. If he wanted to talk about the traditions of Lo’sha’mi, that wouldn’t be so bad. But I had met many others like this man before, and I suspected that he wanted something else.
“I knew it!” he said triumphantly. Then he pointed at me with one unsteady hand. “You - you’re the Siren!”
Called it. He wasn’t interested in dance. He just wanted to be able to brag that he’d met one of the legends of the universe. Never mind that I had clearly been keeping to myself, and never mind that his too-loud proclamation had caught the attention of several other people in the bar.
“I am,” I told him with a sigh, because what was the point of lying? Then I eyed my drink. I quite liked it, actually. It mixed a local fruit juice with a liquor made of Borothian roots in a way that melded the flavors nicely. Was it worth sticking around so I could savor the drink for longer?
“I’m Zander,” he said as he stuck out a hand towards me. I recoiled slightly from the sudden motion. “I’ve, uhh, I’ve wanted to meet you for a looooong time.”
No, it wasn’t worth it. I took one last sip of the drink, then carefully got down from my stool. I was over a foot shorter than Zander when we were both standing, but he didn’t seem to care; he just angled his hand downwards. I eyed the hand dubiously for a moment before I touched his palm gently with one claw-tipped finger. Apparently that was the wrong response, because he frowned in puzzlement.
“Nice to meet you,” I told him with no sincerity whatsoever.
Then I turned and walked towards the door.
“Huh?” he said from behind me, clearly confused. Then, more loudly: “Heyyyy, wait! I -”
I lost the rest of his sentence as the door to the pub swung shut behind me.
~
The second time I met Zander was fifty-three years later.
I was still picking my way through the Brine Galaxy, but this time I was on a small planet orbiting Tsithiles, a star at the end of its prime. The planet was only referred to by an ID in the universal registry, but it was called Mrus by the natives. I had come to Mrus following rumors of a type of light-art the Mrusians had developed, and I hadn’t been disappointed. Their use of colorful crystals harvested from underground caves to redirect beams of light was reminiscent of the light patterns produced by the Cosi people, true, but the intricate displays that the Mrusians built were still fresh and exciting to my eyes.
I had set myself up in a small community near one of the caves and offered them weekly performances of their choice in exchange for materials and time with their artisans. Everything went smoothly for a few months, and I was enjoying myself. At least, I enjoyed myself until one fateful morning when I went to the workshop to find no delivery of fresh crystals, and no sign of the errand girl who usually brought them to us from the caves.
I went to investigate, of course, and found a crowd of people gathered around the cave’s entrance. For a moment I was concerned that there had been an accident; technology could only do so much, and cave-ins were still a real possibility, especially on backwater planets like this one.
Instead I found a humanoid figure who looked distinctly familiar.
“... a sign that a previous society lived down there,” Zander was saying in a pleased tone as I arrived. He was entirely focused on the crowd surrounding him and didn’t appear to notice me at all. “And there were marks on the walls too. It looked like there might have been a mural of some sort there once, but it faded long ago, there’s only a few traces left now.”
I perked up at that and slipped my way through the crowd, taking advantage of the fact that my small body could easily weave between the tall and broad Mrusians. In half a minute I had reached the front, where Zander was holding up a large tablet computer that displayed the images he’d taken inside the caves.
“And here’s the main part of the ruin! I’m no expert, but I figure this could’ve been a temple, or…” at that point he noticed me, and his voice trailed off for a moment. I recognized that look on his face: he was puzzled by my scales and stature, so out of place on this world full of large, furry mammals. Then his eyebrows shot up.
“Siren, right?” he asked. I nodded quietly. “I thought you were into arty stuff. What are you doing here?”
“Art,” I replied simply. “You mentioned a mural?”
“The remains of one.” He studied me for a moment, then frowned. “Didn’t you run off when I tried to talk to you before?”
By that point I had fully remembered the context of our previous meeting, but Zander was acting much less obnoxious this time and he had relevant information. “You were drunk,” I informed him. “You seem better now.”
“Thank you?” he said, looking a bit taken aback. Then he cleared his throat and smiled at me. “Hey, stick around once I’m done here. I can show you more detailed pictures of the murals. Besides, I still want to talk, if you’re up for that.”
I nodded in agreement and moved off to the side, then sat on the ground with my tail curled up around my body. Zander launched right back into his story, and I watched him with the eye of an experienced storyteller. He was good with an audience; he knew how to play off of their emotions and make each being feel like they had really been there, as if the story was just for them. Normally I would have let myself get swept up in his tale to pass the time, but I was puzzled by something.
Most mammals lived for one, maybe two hundred years. That put them right in the middle of the lifespan range for sentient species across the known universe. Fifty-some years should have been a long time for someone like Zander, yet he looked the same as he had when I’d met him the first time.
I discreetly pulled my portable computer out of my satchel and tapped the button on the side to connect it to the main computer on my ship, which was orbiting the planet somewhere up above. From there I was able to run a search on the universal news feeds. Zander archeology, I typed, not that I expected to find much with a phrase that vague.
Imagine my surprise when the first result was an instant hit. It featured a picture of Zander himself next to the article, casually grinning as he gestured towards a giant rock that had some kind of writing etched into it. I skimmed the article’s description, and my eyes went wide.
Zander Xino, renowned part-Xinian explorer, has caused a stir in the universal archeology community yet again with a recent find in the depths of the Weastiria ravines…
I looked up from the device to Zander, who was now hunched over as he described how he’d needed to crawl through a natural tunnel to access part of the ruin. I had thought that he looked vaguely Human before, and it was likely that he was half-Human. But the other half was Xinian. And if he was part-Xinian, that meant he was an immortal.
Just like me.
~
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Half an hour later Zander and I were sitting on the ground in front of my workshop, since the Mrusians weren’t much for furniture. We had spent the walk back from the caves looking over Zander’s pictures from the ruins he had found. The remnants of the mural were unfortunately disappointing; they clearly shared a common ancestral root with the wall art produced by the modern locals, and both forms used the rudimentary broad-strokes, finger-painted approach used by early civilizations across the universe. There was nothing new I could learn from them, and the mural was too long-gone to be aesthetically pleasing.
Still, hearing Zander talk about his escapades was entertaining. I had assumed at first that he was some kind of archeologist or historian, but it was clear that his real interest lay in adventure, exploring new places and seeing things no one had ever seen before. That was logical. Anyone who lived long enough needed to find something to become passionate about, to keep life from getting stale.
“So,” he said after a short pause in the conversation. “You’re Siren. The Siren.”
I nodded in agreement.
“Infamous worldhopper and artisan of all trades,” he continued. “Dancer, musician, painter, poet, sculptor, lightweaver, texturist -”
“Yes,” I interrupted before things could get out of hand. “So?”
He scoffed and looked at me with a grin. “So? So I’m curious! You’ve been wandering the galaxies for more than two thousand years now, and from everything I’ve heard you haven’t aged a day.” He leaned forward and studied me intently. “Everyone says you’re immortal, but I couldn’t find anything official. So, are you?”
My tail flicked back and forth on the ground behind me as I shrugged. “As far as I can tell, yes.”
Zander leaned forward a little further, and his eyes narrowed. “But you aren’t half-Xinian, are you?” he asked in a softer voice. “I know almost everyone on the rolls, and I’ve never heard of you. So, what are you?”
I could understand why he wanted to know. The known universe was full of a grand variety of lifeforms, and some of those forms lived for hundreds of years, even a thousand years, but forever? As far as society knew, only the mysterious Xinians and their occasional half-breed offspring could live forever.
So yes, it was a fair question. That didn’t mean I was going to answer it.
“None of your business,” I told Zander smoothly.
He raised his eyebrows at that. “Really?” he asked. “Well then, what part of space did you come from?”
I tilted my head and considered him. “Still none of your business.”
“Come on!” he said, sounding mildly exasperated now. “I won’t pry into your personal affairs. I just want to go see the world that produced another immortal species, that’s all.”
Ahh, so that was his game. He was an explorer, and I was an oddity. Of course he was interested. Well, he was doomed to disappointment on this front.
“I can’t help you with that,” I told him firmly. “If you wish to share stories to help pass the time, by all means, be welcome here. But my past is my own.”
He sucked in air through the side of his mouth and tugged on the strange hat he wore, large on top and with a wide brim. Some kind of human affectation? Then, after a moment’s thought, he stood up and dusted off his trousers.
“Thanks for the offer, but now that I’m done here, there’s a little planet in the next system that’s calling my name,” he said, all cheerful again. “But hey, take this. If you ever change your mind about telling me where you’re from, you just let me know.”
He handed me a data card, one of the general models that could interface with practically any computer. I took it carefully in one hand and looked over the smooth, glossy surface, then looked back up again.
He was already walking away.
~
Third time’s the charm, the old saying goes.
Three hundred and twenty four years had passed, and I was in an entirely different galaxy. The planet that called itself Verdant had recently developed a new form of pottery that used a locally-designed synthetic material to make creations thinner and more delicate than anything that had been possible in the field before. I had decided to stop by the planet for a short time to take a look at some of their designs, and of course to try out this new material on my own.
Fourteen days into my visit, the planet erupted into pandemonium.
The new respiratory virus, popularly called Rasping Breath, has now spread outside of Rainforest City, the newscaster said. All the potters in the studio had abandoned their work to listen closely to the audio strip that usually played casual music on the side wall, so I stopped as well to find out what had them so concerned. New cases have already been identified in Canyon Town, Firegrass City, Tallest Spire, and New Landing. The death toll in Rainforest City has risen to 23, with an additional 587 cases across the region. The world governor has decreed a lockdown for the entire continent of Evergreen effective immediately. All citizens must return to their homes and wait for further instructions from their audio strips at 17:00 today…
The others in the room immediately erupted into frenzied discussion. We were in Cove Town, which was less than an hour away from New Landing by speedcraft. If the virus had reached New Landing so quickly, it would be here within a day or two.
I watched the other artists in the studio and let out a soft sigh. Over the years I had grown used to death, to seeing beings around me come and go in what sometimes felt like the blink of an eye. Yet it still pained me to see the stress that others felt when they were faced with their own mortality.
I offered my hosts a comforting word or two, the only thing I had to give, and helped them clean and lock up the building so they could all return to their homes. Then I went back to my groundship and settled into the cockpit, switching the controls from land flight to space reentry mode. If a pandemic was brewing in this world, it was best that I escape before I was swept up in it.
Check the fuel tanks, ensure the gravity meters are stable, program the flight plan - hmm? I paused and stared at the screen that held the navigation information, momentarily puzzled at the bright text that had appeared over the plan.
EXTRAPLANETARY FLIGHT BANNED.
I frowned and clicked a claw against the text, and the box lengthened, displaying more information below the initial warning.
AUTHORITIES HAVE ACTIVATED ANTI-FLIGHT NETS AROUND THIS PLANET. ALL EXIT PATHS ARE CLOSED AT THIS TIME.
I hissed and curled my tail in a tight coil instinctively. I did not want to be stuck on this planet during a pandemic. I’d lived through that once before over a thousand years ago during the Scarlet Plague on Korai, and I had no desire to repeat the experience.
There was only one choice, then. I flicked my tongue out into the air in distaste, switched back to the land flight controls, and set a course for Verdant’s DSC office.
~
The universe is full of many beautiful things. Every planet I have seen has something that makes it stand out, something vibrant and unique.
Despite this, every Department of Space Crafts office I have ever visited has been the same. Dull, slow, and entirely devoid of emotion. Somehow no species, no matter how intelligent or emotionally fluent they are, has managed to create a spacecraft office that can run for more than a few days before it devolves into a pit of bureaucracy and soul-crushing weariness.
This office was no exception. The walls were painted a bland off-white that didn’t at all fit in with the usual bright pastels that the Verdanti liked to use, and the potted plants were practically wilting. An audio strip on the wall that constantly let out a low-pitched hum repeated to the world that it was Number 74’s turn to come up to the front desk every ten seconds or so.
I had expected all of the lifelessness. I had not expected to find Zander Xino sitting on one of the chairs, patiently waiting for his turn.
It took me a moment to recall why I recognized his face, but once I did I walked straight up to him and flicked my tail out to the side in an idle gesture. “You’re stuck here as well, then?” I said.
He stared at me for a moment, clearly not sure who I was; three hundred years will do that. Then his eyes lit up. “The Siren herself,” he said with a lazy smile. “And yes, I am. Don’t bother trying to get an exemption to leave. They ain’t handing out any.”
I crossed my arms and clicked the claws of my left hand against the carapace on the back of my right arm in irritation. “That’s irrational. I can’t even carry diseases.”
“Neither can I,” he replied easily. “Doesn’t matter. Bureaucrats are bureaucrats.”
The speaker in the background called for Number 75 as I looked around and frowned. “So they told you no already. Why are you still here?”
Zander shrugged. “My sailing crew is under quarantine just like everyone else. I either get to hunker down in my speedcraft by myself for months, maybe a year -” he shuddered at that - “or see if I can help shut this virus down faster. I’ll always choose the path of action, if I’m given a choice.”
That was unexpected. “You trained in medicine?” I asked, authentically curious now. I had dabbled in rudimentary medicine years ago, just out of curiosity, but I hadn’t gotten anywhere near far enough along to help solve something like a pandemic.
He laughed and shook his head. “Not beyond the basics, no. But I heard a rumor that the disease started with a scientific team that was out in the jungle.” He stretched his arms up high and smiled fiercely. “That smells like adventure to me. I figured I’d find out where this science site is, fly over, do some poking around. I’ll see if I can find anything that’ll help the doctors here wrap up this virus a little more quickly.”
I nodded in understanding, but internally I was already doing my own calculations. Even if Zander sped up the process, I would still be stuck on this planet for quite a while. Well, I had fallen behind in my reading recently. Perhaps I could dedicate a month or two to that. It would be hard to ignore the chaos unfolding in the world outside, though.
“You could come with me,” Zander suggested.
I paused my ruminations and blinked at him. “What?”
“Come with me,” he repeated. Then he grinned in a lopsided way. “No way I’ll be able to find a crew with all the locals quarantining, and adventuring alone just ain’t quite the same. You’re safe from the disease, and you seem reasonable. You should come.”
I kept staring at him, momentarily at a loss for words. It had been decades since anyone had proposed such an absurd idea to me. I was an artist! Everyone knew that and expected nothing else of me. The idea of going exploring of all things felt ludicrous, entirely out of character.
Then again… it had been at least a hundred years since the last time I had tried a hobby outside of art, just to see what it was like. I was overdue for an opportunity to attempt something new. And memories of the Scarlet Plague still nagged at the back of my head. Bodies in the streets from the sheer amount of death, with the usual gray skin stained red from inflammation. Desperate Koraians pounding at my ship’s hatch, begging someone they considered a living legend for medical help that I simply didn’t know how to provide. What if my help could mitigate the disaster this time?
“Okay,” I told him.
He blinked in surprise. “Okay?”
“Okay,” I repeated. “I’ll go with you.”