Anyway, I'm incredibly displeased with the first part of the chapter. Actually, the first three quarters at least until Darian shows up. Luanna's introduction feels completely random, my chronology is screwed up, I go overboard with descriptions when it comes to Darian's manor, etcetera et al. Very dissatisfied, I am. The only good part of this chapter is that it moves the plot forward, and Darian. Oh, Darian, how I love you. Writing his interactions with Masudo was the only thing that really kept me going on this chapter.
Sooo....without further ado, here comes the first part of the second chapter of The End of Time, in which Darian is unfortunately absent and Luanna suddenly gets dumped on the reader.
The End of Time
Part One: The City
Chapter Two: Two Arrivals
Luanna Cole stepped into the Aetan spaceport, shifting her bag to the other shoulder.
Her lip curled with disapproval as she swept her blue eyes around the port, taking in the faded gray upholstery, the dust-choked windows, the dim light-strips on the low ceiling casting a weak and flickering light. Barely anyone was in sight: the only people she could see was a tired-looking security guard in blue uniform, lolling against a pillar; and a family hurrying past, all wearing the loose, colorful tunics that the natives of the planet preferred.
Luanna tugged at the collar of her own jacket—streamlined, simple, pale blue, with no visible closures. The style of clothing fashionable in most of the Coalition. At least, the civilized parts of the Coalition that had large, airy and bustling spaceports equipped with serving automatons and moving floors, like the spaceport on Earth.
Earth, Luanna’s home world. She had left it behind barely twelve hours ago, and already a choked knot of homesickness was rising in her stomach. What she wouldn’t give to back on the planet, sitting in Professor Benson’s afternoon civics class instead of…
Instead of standing in a dingy little spaceport light-years away from Earth, all because she’d had the misfortune of winning an essay contest.
Luanna’s parents had seen her off with huge smiles and even tears (at least from her mother), and Professor Benson had wrung her hand and rained congratulations on her head. All seemed to think that Luanna had won a great honor. No doubt, it was a great honor to have won the Young Diplomats of the Coalition competition, but she felt no pride; only a raw gnawing edge of disappointment. Part of the prize, after all, was a two-month trip to one of the recently-admitted edge planets to the Coalition: Luanna had thought she’d perhaps be going to the exciting frontier world of Ora, perhaps to help negotiate the six-months-in-the-making cease-fire between the warring families on the world—
But instead, she’d been sent to tiny, out-of-the-way, uncivilized Aeta, for two months of mind-numbing “cultural activities” in Aeta’s capital of Theratolia. Not much of an assignment, Luanna thought bitterly, for an ambitious young diplomat-in-training.
Luanna took a reluctant step forward, swinging her shoulder bag behind her. Her strides were long and steady, and her long white-blonde hair trailed after her as she walked. She’d been told a porter would come greet her after she arrived and show her to a hotel. Already, just looking at the spaceport, Luanna knew not to expect a luxury hotel like the space hotels dotting the atmospheres of Earth and most other Coalition planets; probably, she’d be taken to a little, dusty, mud-brick structure indistinguishable from the other tiny dwellings in Theratolia.
She quashed a sigh and continued walking on the stubbornly stationary floor—then again, had she really been expecting this dumpy little spaceport to have moving floors? A part of her was disturbed by how few people she saw—except the lounging guards and a few tired-looking clerks behind desks (goodness, they didn’t even have holographic screens—they were clacking on keyboards!), there didn’t seem to be anyone else around. Luanna had been expecting the dearth of people, though: She doubted that the primitive Aetans would have much use for the spaceport.
A male voice behind her jerked her out of her musings. “Miss Cole?”
Luanna turned around, already knowing who she’d see. A young man in a shabby purple porter’s uniform was bounding across the gray carpet, pushing a two-wheeled cart made of rusted metal in front of him. He could only be the porter.
When her travel coordinator had told her to expect a human porter pushing a cart, Luanna had laughed. Why would any human push another’s bags, not when automatons could do the job much more quickly and safely? Now that she was on Aeta, though, Luanna saw that a human porter only made sense: She hadn’t seen a single automaton in the spaceport.
“Miss Luanna Cole, there you are,” said the porter, stopping in front of her with a grin on his face, the white of his teeth in contrast to the bronze of his skin. “Did you have a safe journey?”
“Yes,” said Luanna, with a brief nod. A nasty part of her reflected that the porter probably had never before traveled in space.
“May I take your bags—oh, is that all?” he said, blinking owlishly at the single bag slung over Luanna’s shoulders. “That can hold all of your things?”
“It’s a compact bag,” said Luanna, casting a glance at the sleek silver fabric of the bag. It had been a present from her mother.
“A what now?” said the porter, still grinning.
Luanna suppressed the urge to snap at him in irritation—diplomats weren’t rude—and said, “Everything folds to a very small size inside the bag. A property of its fabric; something to do with nanobots. They were only invented a few years ago…”
So I doubt you’ve heard of anything like that on this backwater planet, though she didn’t say the rude words out loud.
“I see—fascinating!” said the porter, rubbing his hands together with a dry crackling sound that made Luanna wince. “So I take we won’t be needing this?” He gave the rusted cart a wide kick that sent it careening across the natty gray carpet, where it teetered to a tentative stop in front of a grime-coated window.
Luanna just shrugged wordlessly, hoping to convey to the porter that she didn’t want to converse with him. He didn’t seem to want a conversation, though—as he walked slightly ahead of her, showing her the way out of the spaceport, he went on and on in a rambling monologue.
“So I take everyone in the Coalition has got something like that? The compact bag?” Luanna nodded. “Fascinating! They haven’t got anything like that, here. As a matter of fact, they haven’t got much of anything, here. Just sand! And burdenbeasts. Is this your first time space-traveling, Miss Cole? No? Fascinating! Where’ve you been before? Say, say, how long does it take to get a visa, Miss Cole? Been meaning to for some time, I’ve always felt my destiny was on other worlds!”
It took all of Luanna’s diplomatic training to suppress the tart retorts rising in her throat. She’d never met anyone so pushy before—although a tiny part of her sympathized with the porter’s desire to leave behind his primitive planet.
Most of her, though, just wanted him to shut up and leave Luanna alone with her thoughts.
They exited the spaceport—which didn’t even have automatic doors; the porter had to push them open—and stepped into a wide, sun-drenched street. Luanna blinked the sudden onslaught of brilliant light out of her eyes, choking on the smell of dust and a dry, hot smell that must be sand.
The next second, Luanna became aware of the heat—a heat that she felt as intensely as a blow to the head. She could almost see the heat, in the shimmering outlines of the mud-brick buildings lined up in front of her, and to either side. A square, she realized. This must be the city’s main square.
She stepped forward, following the porter and trying to ignore the spreading dark stains under his uniform armpits. She was sure she wasn’t doing much better in the heat, if the way her suddenly too-tight, too-choking, jacket clung to her skin from a new sheen of sweat was any indication.
Despite herself, Luanna took in the scene before her in studious fascination. The square was a wide pavilion, paved with the same mud bricks from which the buildings were made. In the center of the square was a wide circular fountain, about the size of a large round tub. In the center of the fountain was a statue made of sand-colored stone, of a tall, majestic man in flowing robes, one hand outstretched to the sky and the other clenched around a staff a head taller than him. Everything about him—his pose, his sculpted features—exuded power and control.
“Who’s that?” said Luanna, taking a step closer to the fountain, close enough to feel a faint cool spray from the water tinkling from the tip of the man’s staff. It wasn’t enough to completely relieve the heat, but it was something, at least.
“That—that would be the Protector,” said the porter, coming up beside her. “Ugly statue, isn’t it?”
Luanna couldn’t agree less. Whoever had sculpted the fountain had put all of his craftsmanship in the statue of this “Protector”: Even minute details like the folds of his robe were captured in perfect detail. “And the Protector is…?”
“Ahh…well, according to our mythology,” said the porter, in a tone implying not that I believe in it, “the Protector is one of the four Founders of Aeta. He’s the guardian of, well, battle magic. Really, this statue isn’t so special; the one in the Noble Quarter is better or so I’ve heard. Not that I’ve ever been there.”
“Battle magic?” said Luanna, her curiosity piqued. But the porter had already begun striding away form the fountain. Sucking in one last breath of the cool, moist air surrounding it, Luanna turned and started following the porter across the square.
The pavilion was surprisingly empty, for being a city square. Luanna couldn’t see anyone moving about save herself and the porter. There were signs that the square normally saw greater activity, such as the clusters of tiny wooden stalls with colorful silk awnings in front of every building, and the high watchtowers placed strategically around the square, beside even taller trees with stiff green leaves. But there was no one behind the stalls and the blue-uniformed guards in the watchtowers were, as far as Luanna could tell, fast asleep.
“Why isn’t there anyone here?” said Luanna, falling behind the porter as he led her to one of the buildings. “I was told Theratolia was usually a busy city…” Unless the standards of “busy” on this world are different than they are in the actual Coalition…
“Ah,” said the porter, somewhat distractedly. “Well, it’s midday, Miss Cole. Most everyone is taking a nap. They’ve got sense to do so.” He laughed darkly, and tugged at the front of his sweat-stained uniform. Luanna turned away from the acrid smell of sweat.
“Here’s your hotel.” The porter had stopped in front of the doorway to the building in front of him, an open arch in the sand-scoured wall. He swept an arm towards it. “The Blue Kaza Hotel. One of the best in the Normal Quarter. Hope you enjoy your stay, Miss Cole.”
I hope so too, thought Luanna, stepping into the archway. She paused before entering, casting the porter one last glance. Perhaps he wanted to be tipped…? She didn’t know, seeing as she’d never worked with a human porter before.
But he was just standing there, beaming like always. “Enjoy your stay, Miss Cole,” he said again, and then added, sounding more excited, “and if you ever want to drop by the spaceport and help me with all that paperwork—for the visa, you now—you’re very welcome.”
He was still grinning after her as Luanna ducked inside the arch and entered a small courtyard, looking for all the world like a lost puppy seeking approval. Luanna sighed mentally, kneading her fingers into her forehead.
Her first day on Aeta, and already, she’d had enough of the planet.
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Luanna found her room after inquiring at the receptionist’s desk, which was located in a small alcove to the south side of the courtyard. At least, she thought, the hotels on Aeta seemed to work just like the hotels on Earth, though admittedly on a more low-tech scale.
The hotel management had been tripping all over each other in their eagerness to help her—probably, they’d never hosted a foreign customer before. It was all Luanna could do to shake off the over-eager hands of a serving boy who’d wanted to lead her to her room. She could find it herself, she assured all of them. By that point, she was heartily sick of overly pushy employees.
There was no moving floor to take Luanna to her room, of course; she had to climb several flights of steep, mud-brick stairs until she reached the fifth and highest floor of the hotel. Her room was medium-sized by Earth standards, walls painted white to reflect the desert heat. A queen-sized bed was pushed against a wall, and a small, highly polished, wooden table held a wicker basket containing an assortment of strange fruits—round reddish-purple ones reminding Luanna of balloons, hard little green fruits, long orange stick-shaped ones. She didn’t touch any of them. Beside the door was a clothes-tree hung with a simple white tunic and trousers, the kind most Aetan citizens wore. Luanna left the clothes deliberately untouched, even though the sweat beneath her form-fitting jacket was beginning to itch.
She currently sat in a hard wooden chair beneath the open window, a glass of greenish juice clutched in her hand. She didn’t know what the juice was—there was just a pitcher of the stuff beside the fruit basket—but it had a nice, sour astringency to it that Luanna liked. Plus, in the desert heat, it was refreshingly cool. The heat was already dying down, now that the sun was beginning to set, coloring the sky in deep red and orange tones.
With the sunset came people. To Luanna, it seemed quite sudden: One moment, the square had been empty, dozing under the oppressing heat; the next, the sun was setting and people were spilling across the pavilion, their bright tunics dots of color against the sand-colored ground, laughing, chatting, hawking wares…
The activity entranced Luanna. High in the hotel’s fifth floor, she felt like a giant observing an anthill from a distance. People—the same people who had been dozing only minutes before—filled the square, jostling shoulders with one another, bending over vendors’ stalls, tossing shiny silvery coins into the Protector’s Fountain. A mother in a long red tunic tugged a laughing boy closer to her; two boys clashed sticks together in a mock sword fight while a small crowd egged them on; a peddler pushed a cart wafting smells of frying dough and warm fruit to Luanna’s nostrils, calling to potential customers in a high, keening voice.
Luanna leaned further out of the window, relaxing in the rapidly-cooling evening air. Perhaps, she thought vaguely, it wasn’t so bad here. Much more primitive than Earth, true; but Aeta had its own charm. Not that she’d ever want to stay longer than the two months she had to.
A tiny part of Luanna urged her to file a report about the happenings of the day, just as her travel coordinator had told her to do—but most of her waved the voice back. Her limbs felt too leaden, her head too weary, for her to move, let alone file a formal report. Despite her attempts at staying strong, the fatigue of twelve hours of space transit was beginning to catch up to her.
The peddler was shouting, his high voice reaching Luanna’s ears even from her position five stories above him. “Get your fresh, hot bobel sticks! Fresh, hot bobel sticks! Only a half pend each! With every flavor under the sun—”
“That sounds marvelous,” said a rich, deep, and shockingly familiar voice. “I’ll take two.”
Luanna almost fell out of the window from shock—only by grabbing the sill just in time was she able to keep herself from pitching forward and landing with an unpleasant splat in the square beneath her. She swayed, feeling as if someone had reached in her stomach and twisted, and then forced a dose of frozen water down her throat.
She recognized that voice. It was a voice that floated across years, across fading memories, across parsecs of space. A voice she knew as belonging to a tall, powerfully-built, dark-skinned, silver-eyed man…
The man in the long brown cloak stepped away from the peddler, holding two sticks with four round things each impaled on them. He turned around, striding towards a stall pushed up beside the hotel.
She saw a fine down of silver hair on his head, skin almost as black as ebony, a familiar crooked nose. There was no doubt about it. With a cold, settling feeling in her gut, Luanna realized this man could be none other than him.
Mr. Marsh.
Luanna didn’t know Mr. Marsh’s first name, but then again, she had never known much about him. He was just a friend of her father’s, a man who Marcus Cole had met on a gala brunch on Mars six years ago. Apparently, that one encounter had brought them close enough for Mr. Cole to suggest that Mr. Marsh move into the Cole house for a month, while Mr. Marsh’s home was apparently “undergoing renovation”.
At first, the strange, strongly built, silver-eyed man had intimidated ten-year-old Luanna…but his friendly manner began to win her over. He was kind to her and her younger sisters, and he would often take Luanna to the roof of the Cole house, where the miniature observatory was, and show her the planets and the stars. When her parents were too busy to take care of her, he’d give Luanna lessons in Centauri-style aerobic martial arts, something that he’d apparently picked up in years of traveling the Coalition.
Luanna had never asked where Mr. Marsh was from and she’d never cared. All that mattered to her was that he was like a second father to her, a parent when both her parents’ busy schedules prevented them from caring for their daughter. It was Mr. Marsh she had to thank for instilling in her the enthusiasm for the Coalition and space travel that had led Luanna to pursue her parents’ path of diplomacy. As a ten-year-old girl, small for her age and rebellious, Luanna had been determined not to follow in her parents’ footsteps.
“I don’t wanna be a diplomat,” she had snapped at Mr. Marsh, once when they’d been viewing the planets of the Solar System together in the observatory.
“Why not, Luanna?” Mr. Marsh replied, his tone serene. “I think it would be fun to be a diplomat, don’t you?”
“Not really. Mom and Dad are diplomats and they never have any fun,” Luanna said with a scowl. Unless constant gala brunches counted as “fun”, but to Luanna they weren’t.
“Ah,” said Mr. Marsh in a knowing tone, as he adjusted his telescope. “So you don’t want to be a diplomat just because your parents are.”
Luanna blushed and stared at the ground, realizing that she didn’t have a concrete reason besides that.
“You know, diplomacy isn’t all gala brunches,” said Mr. Marsh with a low chuckle. He was peering intently into his telescope but it was clear that all his attention was focused on Luanna. “There’s real excitement…and danger…to being a diplomat.”
“Really,” said Luanna, sticking her chin up petulantly. Her ten-year-old self believed that there was no job more exciting and dangerous than being a secret agent.
“Of course!” said Mr. Marsh, his animated tone surprising Luanna. “Diplomats get to travel to every planet in the Coalition—yes, Ora included. If they’re particularly good, they get to travel for free. And first-class.”
This perked Luanna’s attention. She’d ridden spaceships before, but always in economy class. Sometimes, though, she’d glimpsed the comfortable leather seats and holographic entertainment systems of the first-class chambers.
“Not to mention, in many cases—especially at the frontier worlds—diplomats encounter danger,” said Mr. Marsh, making a show of adjusting his telescope sights again. “Such as Ora. Just three months ago, a group of Coalition diplomats was held captive by the Talon family. They barely escaped with their lives.”
“Really?” Luanna stared wide-eyed at Mr. Marsh, drinking in his every word. She’d long believed the sort of excitement he was talking about belonged only to spy dramas, but he was talking about things that happened in real life, and to diplomats like her parents, to boot.
“Would I ever lie?” said Mr. Marsh, playfully. Then, straightening up, he turned to her and cast his paternal silver-eyed gaze on her. “Think about it, Luanna. About becoming a Coalition diplomat. You won’t regret it.”
That conversation hadn’t magically convinced Luanna to follow a diplomat’s path; but it had set her on the road. Mr. Marsh had opened her eyes to a diplomacy that existed outside her parents’ world of starched suits, social events, and tedious small talk. He had shown her that there was nothing wrong in pursuing diplomacy for its own sake, not because her parents had done the same thing.
If it wasn’t for Mr. Marsh, Luanna would never have entered the Young Diplomats contest, let alone won it. If it wasn’t for Mr. Marsh, she wouldn’t be here in Aeta today…
And apparently, for some reason, he was here too.
Luanna glanced out of the window again, once she trusted the shaking in her arms to lessen. She scanned the crowd for a glimpse of silver hair, powerful shoulders, brown cloak, but saw nothing. He was gone.
Yet he’d been there—she was sure of it. She hadn’t imagined seeing Mr. Marsh, here, on Aeta, dressed like a local and speaking on friendly terms with the locals. Mr. Marsh, who Luanna hadn’t seen in six years…
Was he a native to Aeta? Or was he here on a diplomatic mission? Or for his own unfathomable reasons? Luanna’s grip tightened against the windowsill, her knuckles turning white. Either way, Mr. Marsh was here.
And Luanna finally had something to do. She didn’t just have to waste her time while her brain turned to mush as she attended dull cultural activity after cultural activity. She could find him. She could find Mr. Marsh.
As she stood up, trembling in excitement, Luanna realized she was no longer tired.
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The more I read this, the more I hate it...it's such a sudden shift from the first chapter. >_> I feel maybe I should move the Nendo meeting Darian scene to the front of this chapter and have this one come later, I don't know...
I'm somewhat dissatisfied with Luanna's characterization; I actually feel she's not mean enough. Yeah, I know, she already is kind of a jerk, but she's already begin to enjoy Aeta somewhat and I don't want that; I want her to be a bastard about it and whine and bitch about Aeta for quite a bit before slowly coming to concede it isn't all bad. But I was afraid that making Luanna too big a jerk would alienate readers to her, and I don't want the readers to start hating one of the protagonists by the second chapter. >_> So I don't know how to fix Luanna's characterization. Please, suggestions!
The second part of the chapter is scads better; well, at least it starts becoming better when Darian shows up. Meanwhile, read and review, and if you manage to stick it through the entirety of the chapter, I promise a review to anyone who asks for one.
Luanna
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