Qaan

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Mothers told tales of a time long ago when humans could only dream of a life off Terra Earth. A time before dragons, or bats, or hummingbirds. A time when the endless expanse of the Valley was just known as 'space'. No written records of life before the first dragon came to Terra Earth exist, only stories told by mothers to curious children. Stories filled with descriptions of lush green grass painted so vividly, I could feel it beneath my feet. I dreamt of the crisp morning air in the Spring...even though Terra Earth hasn't seen a 'Spring' in over 5,000 years.

The children of my generation stopped believing in the tales that mothers told earlier than our fathers. We stopped believing in grass the first time the water tank went dry and we spent two months filtering piss for its better nutrients until the next hummingbird landed and brought with it the clouds that brought the rain that saved our colony.

It was years before the tanks went dry again.

I was six, that first dry season. And I knew then, it didn't matter what existed long ago or how our ancestors survived on this minor planet before the first dragon landed.

All that mattered was the Valley and I had to do whatever I could to get there.

The warmth of the kitchen hugged me as I entered. The sweet burning of mesquite beans permeated the air.

Momma Kat sat at the table grinding beans in a mortar. One of her straggly locs stuck out from the faded blue scarf doning her head. I recognized the frayed scarf immediately. It was new when she bought it 26 years ago. The first and only thing she'd ever gotten new so it was her favorite and she only wore it on special occasions.

"You up early," I muttered, taking only other seat at the table.

"Never went down," she said, her voice as low as her eyes. "You hungry? There's a bit of 'Guana meat heating in the oven."

"That's okay. I'm too anxious to eat."

She scoffed. "You always been a special one, Qaan. I ain't never been too nothing to eat. I eat my best when I'm feeling my worse."

I eyed her sunken cheeks, remembering the week she and Momma Xae went hungry so that I didn't have to.

For a moment, the kitchen was silent except for the crunch of beans against stone.

"It's gonna be just fine," I finally spoke again. "You're gonna be just fine here without me."

She dropped the pestle, her tired brown eyes cutting into me. "It ain't me I'm worried about. I know I'ma be just fine. I was just fine for 30 years before you and I'll be just fine when you long gone from here."

She reached over and placed her hand on my cheek, her rough thumb brushing against the stubble that'd been sprouting from my chin over the past few weeks. I wondered if she could feel its prickle through her callouses.

"Why did it have to be a dragon?" Her voice cracked.

I leaned away from her touch, dropping my eyes to avoid the guilt of her gaze. "Its the next ship off Terra Earth."

"There'll be a hummingbird in two years if you could just wait-"

"I can't wait, momma." There was a sharper bite in my voice than I intended. I took a deep breath and repeated. "I can't wait...two more years. Do you know how much could happen in two years? The colony could run out of water again. Or food. The pox could return and babies could start dying left and right again. I can't live like that, momma. The Valley," My hand shot up to point at the hole in our ceiling, the blue sky shining clear above. "That's where I need to be."

"You youngin's," she spat, picking up the stone hammer and smashing a small mound of bean pieces. "Think you know everything. Human life began right here on Terra Earth, now all y'all tryna run away from it."

"Terra Earth might be where life began, momma, but the Valley is where living happens."

I placed my hand on top of hers, stopping her from cracking another bean so that she could focus on me.

Her skin had always been a couple shades lighter than mine. But in that moment, the vibrancy of life pulsing through my veins made her look even more ashen than usual.

"You can still come. It ain't too late to leave this place. There's work for everyone in the Valley. Come with me and-"

She snatched away from me as she stood, walking away from the table as if the sight of me made her sick.

"I ain't getting on no damn ship. I don' told you that. Them aliens get you on that ship and have you sign one of them contracts and next thing you know, you their's for good and forever."

She pressed her hands against the basin and closed her eyes. Her shoulders slumped so far down, she folded into herself.

"Once you leave Terra Earth on that thing...you ain't ever coming back."

I walked slowly over to her, placing my hands softly against her swamped shoulders. She seemed so much more fragile then when I first came to her and Momma Xae. They both seemed so alive and eternal chasing me through the gully.

Then Momma Xae died. And Momma Kat stopped running.

"I gotta do what I gotta do, momma. I can't stay here. This planet...it's dying. We part of the last colony on Terra Earth and we dying. There’re dozens of other planets in the Valley for us. Dozens of chances for us to live, momma. I…I wanna live."

A tear slipped from Momma Kat's eyes into the empty basin.

"Promise me," I muttered. "That when that hummingbird comes in two years, you'll get on it. And you'll leave this planet before it swallows you."

She slapped her hand against the basin in frustration. "This is the planet my momma died on. This is the planet Xae died on. This is where life began and I ain't leaving!" Shrugging my hands off, she continued, "I swear, if you get on that ship...you gonna regret it. It might not be today or a year from now but one day...you gonna get sick of working for some alien on a ship and eating shit you don't recognize with a name you can't pronounce, and you gonna regret ever thinking there was a place out there better than home."

I nodded. "Maybe. But Momma Xae always said 'The only regret worth regretting, is regretting the chance not taken'."

Momma Kat stood straight and turned to face me, her eyes swimming in tears and her face burning red.

"Well she dead. So what she regretting now?"

I bit my tongue, forcing myself not to retort with as much anger as she showed me. She had enough anger for both of us.

Stretching out my arms, I threw my body into hers and hugged her for the last time.

"You gonna be okay without me." I craned my neck enough to rest my chin on her shoulder, reassuring her with hope as my only promise.

I don't remember when it was that I outgrew her. One day I was sitting on her shoulders, watching a hummingbird sail into the Mesosphere...and the next, she had her face pressed against my chest, soaking my tunic with her tears.

"I ain't worried about me," she mumbled. "The Valley ain't no place for Earthlings. Those monsters...they'll eat you alive. They really will."

Snot dripped from my nose as a laugh rumbled up my throat. I wiped my sleeve across my face as our embrace drifted apart.

"Ain't nobody gon' eat me, momma. You know that the other Terra-forms are just like us. They just look a little different."

"And eat a little different too." She dropped back to her mortar, picking out the uncrushable bean pieces and tossing them into the coffee pot.

In a silent kitchen, beans sang as they danced around the bottom of a metal pot.

"I made you cakes," she said matter-of-factly, not making eye contact again. She nodded to a tattered linen cloth tied in a bundle at the end of the table.

"They told us not to bring anything. Everything we need'll be on the ship."

"It's gonna be a couple of weeks before your stomach gets used to that alien food. I made you two dozen cakes to last you 'til then."

I shook my head. "I can't take your food, momma. What you gon' eat?"

"Dammit, boy!" She slammed her palm against the table. "I told you I'll be alright. Now if you gon' leave, you take those cakes or they gonna be sitting there waiting for you 'til you get back."

I clenched my jaw and grabbed the makeshift bag.

"Are you gonna walk me to the station?"

She motioned to the bowl of beans. "Been up all night making cakes for you, ain't even started on mine. You go on. I'll catch up to you after I start this pot."

I nodded but I knew she was lying.

I paused at the front door, taking in the sight of the silver ship at the colony's Centre, pointing straight up into the clouds like a spire aimed for the gods: The Moor, the dragon that'll take me from Terra Earth for good and forever.

The sun shined brighter than usual, like the Moor brought with it the light. I closed my eyes and tilted my chin to the sky, soaking in all of its rays.

"I love you, momma." I whispered, almost hoping she wouldn't hear it for fear of her response.

"I know." She tossed another bean in the pot. "I love you too, Qaan. More than you could ever know."

Terra Earth's arid climate made the 2-kilometer down the clay road feel endless. A pool of sweat gathered in every crevice of my body, from the dimple on my left cheek to space between my toes. Each step I took kicked up a cloud of red clay that clung to my sweat drenched body, painting me the color of the mountains. The parts of my feet visible through my sandals were more red than brown.

The wind kicked up halfway to the Centre, whipping me with sand and the tenacity of vengeful Gods who would rather see me dead than abandon the planet they themselves cursed so many years ago.

I took off my tunic leaving the soft flesh of my bare chest exposed to the cruel elements and wrapped it around my head, covering my entire face save for my eyes.

I kept my eyes focused at the sky, the silver tip of the dragon pointing towards freedom.

There were more people in the Centre that day than I'd ever seen and all eyes were focused on one thing only.

Dragons only landed on Terra Earth every 25 years. Like me, the hundreds of young people congesting the streets, circling the landing platform in hopes of being the first to catch a glimpse of the aliens inside, had never seen a dragon beyond the stories told by mothers.

As tall as a mountain, shiny metal plates cascaded down its sides like the scales of a fish. It had two round windows at its pointed top like eyes peering down at us, stained with an opaque gloss that obscured any forms inside. If there was anyone watching us scurry in the streets like ants beneath the foot of this monster, we could not see them.

"It's real," I heard a woman muttering to herself as I slid my tunic back over my torso, her big blue eyes staring up at the dragon in absolute shock. "They said it was but...I-I can't believe it's real."

I didn't share in her disbelief. I'd always known dragons were real. I believed in them with more certainty than I believed in the blades of grass of years past.

A rickety wooden platform stood before the Moor. It was the best Terra Earth's council could do with our diminishing resources and, like Momma Xae always said, 'Trying a little bit of somethin' is always better than doin' a whole lot of nothin'. That was especially true when it came to arrivals.

“Alright everyone!” A man in a solid black tunic stood on the platform before the crowd, his booming voice silencing the entire Centre in an instance. The gold council badge pinned to his chest matched the jaundiced gleam in his eyes.

He held a single sheet of paper in his tired hand, as smooth and sharp as his fingers were wrinkled and crooked.

"I am Raum, son of Saun, Zeril, and Ftek. Council Member 1 of the 9. It is my duty, as Council Member 1 to greet our visitors and graciously welcome what offerings they bring to Terra Earth. However, today's visit is also marked by a rare occurrence. In the past year, two of our young citizens have come to the council and requested permission to leave Terra Earth...via the dragon, Moor."

A wave of quiet whispers flooded the Centre.

"I thought this thing was just bringing supplies," they muttered. "Someone's leaving on it?"

"Who would want to board a dragon?"

"They'll never see their families again."

"They're gonna die on there."

"Silence!" Raum voice shook the crowd to silence once more. "I know that this is a momentous occasion. No Earthling has boarded a dragon in two hundred years. But this is not the time for us to cast judgement or fill their minds with doubt. We should look at these two young people as ambassadors of Terra Earth and someday, perhaps the legacy they take with them across the Valley will bring more fortune to our planet."

The murmurs rose again but this time Raum ignored it.

Staring down at the sheet of paper in his hand, he said, "Brita, daughter of Aslan, step forward."

My eyes scanned the crowd, watching eagerly for someone to step forward.

A woman, no older than me, with shocking white hair, made her way through the crowd. Her face was like a rock, unmoving and unreadable. She didn't look back at the man that once stood beside her, tears brimming his eyes as he watched her walk away.

The platform steps creaked as she marched steadily up them. She stood before the Raum with her back straight and her jaw taut. If she was afraid, no one could tell.

"And Qaan, son of Xae and Kat."

I barely registered my name as he spoke it. The murmurs faded as I moved through the crowd and took my place beside Brita.

"From now on, the two of you represent Terra Earth with everything you do. Serve our people with dignity. If you accept your roles as ambassadors of Terra Earth, say 'Aye'."

"Aye," we said in unison, though my voice cracked in a way I hoped no one else noticed.

Raum looked to the crowd and continued, "Let us all lift our voices and sing as our ancestors once did to the gods of old and pray they protect these two young souls as they leave Terra Earth."

Brita and I closed our eyes as the crowd crooned the melody of the First Prayer, a song first created hundreds of years ago after the last plague nearly wiped out all of humanity. The ancestors sang the First Prayer as they rebuilt the community, coming together to form one colony of survivors blessed by the old gods.

As the sea of voices rose to the prayer's climatic end, ship's doors released its seal and a heavy gust of heated oxygen poured between its cracks like an exasperated sigh.

I opened my eyes, my heart racing as the doors slid open.

I don't know what I expected to see standing in the belly of a dragon, but a two-meter tall, Sapien-like creature was not it.

The being before us could've passed for human if it weren't for the brain of tentacles on top of its head.

A metal gangway slid from the bottom of the doors and crashed into the wooden platform with enough force to knock me off my feet. Brita and Raum stumbled but remained standing.

The alien's legs were hidden behind its white robe, but with the smoothness of its stride down the gangway, I was tempted to believe it had none and simply floated where it wanted to go.

I clenched my teeth and focused on my breath as it landed on the platform with us. Brita did not shiver in front of the creature like I did. Her palms appeared drier than my armpits were currently and there was no waver in her gaze as she stared the alien down. I knew then, if only one of us was to survive the dragon, it would be her.

The alien's eyes were pitch black from lid to lid so it was nearly impossible to tell who it was looking at as it scanned the crowd but as it's gaze turned to me, I knew.

"Hell-o." It spoke slowly, phonetically drawing out each sound in a voice that crackled behind the foreign syllables. "Terr-or Earth-lings. You may call me LeKan. I am... Chief Stew-ard of the dray-gon, Moor. We bring...you...sap-lings from Terr-or Ynor."

LeKan snapped his fingers and six floating pallets came through the dragon's mouth and down the gangway with dozens of strange tree saplings piled on each one.

"They produce strong...wood. And fruit...six times in one of your years. They do not need...wa-ter to grow. Only sun." LeKan tilted his sharp head to the sky. "You have plenty."

Raum fell to his knees and stretched prostrate before LeKan and his offering.

"Thank you," Raum stated with his face against the platform. "We are eternally grateful."

"No need for flay-grant displays of gra-titude. Humans are a protect-ed species. Your survival is a priority of the Valley fleet." Turning his gaze back to me and Brita, he continued to speak to Raum. "Are these the...two you messaged about?"

"Yes sir." Raum staggered slowly back to his feet. "These two sought out the council with a passioned desire to join your crew. They have received the council's permission and the blessing of the colony." With a low bow, he added, "If you will have them, they are yours."

For the first time since I decided to leave Terra Earth, I felt like meat being traded for lumber.

LeKan glided across the platform to us, stopping within a breath's reach.

"You both seem very...young. Even for humans."

I straightened my back but even at my fullest height, I still only reached his chest.

"I am 22," I stated.

"I am 26," said Brita.

LeKan cocked his head to the side. "I have no con-cept of what that means in Terra Earth's...norm. I am 244 ac-cording to your years. And I am still young in the eyes of my people."

My eyes budged before I could control them. The oldest person I ever met was 63 and they were dead before 64. The idea of a creature living longer than that was mind-boggling.

"We are adults," said Brita, unshaken by the alien's age. "Long past the age of childhood and willing and able to do whatever work you need of us."

LeKan straightened his long neck and said, "You are filthy."

I looked around the crowd of people surrounding the platform, all of them covered in sweat and clay.

Waving back at them, I said, "Yes, well...welcome to Terra Earth. How 'bout you walk an hour through a windstorm and see how clean you are after."

The murmurs of the crowd grew too loud to ignore. Raum's entire body blanched with shock. Even Brita cocked a quizzical brow.

LeKan showed no change in facial expression but the air around him suddenly grew cold.

"You must be..." he paused to think. "What is the word...? Brave?" He thought a bit longer. "No. Not brave. Stupid. I often get those two con-fused in your language."

I clenched my fists at my side, embarrassed and insulted by his claim.

"Qaan!" Raum barked my name, reminding me of my place and who stood before me.

I relaxed my jaw and tilted my gaze to the platform attempting to seem contrite before I found myself stuck on Terra Earth forever.

"Q-aan." My name had never seemed more threatening than it did repeated by LeKan's crackly voice. "Is that your name?"

"Yes," I answered, my eyes still on the ground.

"Do not be ashamed, Q-aan. Stu-pid-ity and bra-very are not so distant from each other. You will learn the dif-ference soon enough."

I lifted my eyes to his, his black orbs staring down at me with the same indifference one stared at a pebble rolling down hill.

"What is in your hand?"

I stared down at the sack of mesquite cakes still in my grasp, almost forgetting I was still carrying them.

"Cakes. From my mother."

"Your people's pen-chant for...breeding disease classifies Terr-or Earth is a Class D planet. That means no-thing, ex-cept for human passen-gers, are allowed on the ship. Even your clothes will be promptly removed and in-cinerated upon boarding."

Just as I told Momma Kat.

But I could not bring myself to discard the last thing she ever gave me.

As if reading my mind, Raum cradled the bag between his two old hands and said, "I will make sure Kat receives these back."

Hesitantly releasing my grip, I said, "She is stubborn. She may not take them back."

"Then I will add these to my stock and make her fresh ones. She is an honorable woman and will not be able to refuse my gift."

I quietly thanked him and hoped he was right.

As LeKan turned back to the ship, gliding as he did, I realized the pallets that carried the saplings had also unloaded them onto the platform and were self-driving back onto the ship.

"Come," LeKan called to us.

My body moved on its own behind Brita.

"That was dumb," she said so only I could hear.

"I know," I groaned.

"Don't be dumb around me again. I don't want them lumping us together just because we're both from Terra Earth."

I cut my eyes at the back of her head, realizing the one ally I thought I would have now viewed me as a liability.

I paused at the mouth of the dragon, standing between the sliding doors as the gangway slowly retracted back into place, and stared out into the crowd once more. Hundreds of people - some I knew, most I didn't, all I would never see again - stared back at me.

Far off at the back of the crowd I spotted a faded blue scarf on top of the head of a little woman staring directly back at me. I waved and she lifted a tired old hand to wave back.

"It's time to go," said LeKan waiting by the doors with me.

I nodded and walked away from the door and Terra Earth for good.

As the doors shut behind us, I realized the three of us were trapped in a small room lit by a line of white lights embedded in the metal walls.

"Remove your clothes," said Lekan, leading by example.

As he removed his robe, I saw his legs for the first time. All four of them.

"Stop staring at me," he said tersely. "And undress."

Embarrassed at being caught, I dropped my gaze and pulled my tunic over my head. From the corner of my eye, I saw LeKan open a compartment in the wall and slip his robe inside. Brita followed suit and, in hopes of not stirring the pot anymore, I did the same, saying goodbye to the last bit of home I had.

I kept my curious glances at their naked bodies brief. Admiring Brita's feminine figure and ogling LeKan's...alien one.

"We are currently in the sterilization chamber," said LeKan. "The room will filter out all of the air and replace it with fresh oxygen. If an infection is found," He lifted his finger up to the sprinkler system above us. "We will be disinfected and quarantined for 24 days."

"Terra Earth days," Brita asked. "Or Valley days?"

Confused, I asked, "What's the difference?"

She pierced me with a stony glare. "Valley days are longer."

"24 Terra Earth days," LeKan confirmed. "3 Valley days."

"Your speech," My voice lilted with confusion at the way he pronounced 'Terra'. "Why is your Earthling suddenly clearer than it was before?"

"It's not," he stated plainly. "I am speaking in my native tongue. The Moor is fitted with a psychic link that translates everything we say so when I speak Medusan, you hear Earthling. Your council members should've told you that."

I clenched my jaw, remembering the booklet on dragons lying underneath my bed back home. I skimmed it when the council members gave it to me, finding the things I thought would be important:

What food is available? where will I sleep, is there running water?

Everything else was filler.

I shrugged, attempting to play off my ignorance. "I guess...I forgot."

LeKan's black eyes bore into me like an endless abyss. "Let's hope the lessons you learn onboard stick with you better than the ones on Terra Earth."

A monotonous beeping coming from the ship broke the awkward silence that followed. I resisted the urge to ask its meaning for fear it was another something I should've known.

"The air is clear of infection," LeKan announced.

The auxiliary doors opened behind us and in came two more Medusans dressed in pants that displayed all four of their slender legs. As they handed all three of us a set of clothes, each containing pants white tunics, I wondered if the reason LeKan wore a robe to Terra Earth was to prevent people from gawking at him as I could not help but do even still.

"Get dressed," LeKan ordered, snapping me from my trans. "We still have much to get through before I can leave you two alone."

The clothes they gave us were softer and more fitted than anything I'd ever owned. I thought of Momma Kat and Momma Xae as I slid the tunic over my belly, its warmth hugging me as they did. They deserved clothes this soft.

LeKan and his fellow Medusans lead the way into the rest of the ship and I beat Brita through the doorway, ready to prove that I was just as prepared for this life as she was.

But as soon as I stepped through the doors, I froze.

The ship was not as the council members described: like a warehouse of workers and automatic pallet jacks moving resources from one place to the next.

It was a city like the ancient ones mothers told tales about. Cities filled with people chatting and laughing. Some with two legs, or three, four, six. Giants three times the size of LeKan and dwarves so small I thought they were toddlers.

Floating walkways flew above our heads, taking people from one side of the ship to the other. Pallet jacks and lifts moved about as if conscious beings, avoiding collisions around every turn.

And on every balcony that my eyes could see, there was grass.