Lightning flashed across the sky, fluorescent green through the low-light vision enhanced windscreen of the bridge. Fiona tried and failed to suppress a shiver as the thunder rolled again, seemingly almost on top of them. The ship shuddered and rolled as a wave struck her, white sea foam glimmering in the moonlight as it cascaded across the deck.
“Breakers ahead!” one of the lookouts called suddenly. Fiona heard the note of panic in his voice. “Rocks on the port bow!”
“Turn us two points to starboard,” the first officer said, his own voice calm. Fiona felt the crash of the waves ease a little as the ship answered her helm in response to the order.
She wished the charts for this area were more accurate. Normally their sensors and navigational systems would have easily compensated for any inaccuracies in the data, but with most of their long range systems scrambled by the storm, as well as long range communications, they were reliant on dead reckoning and the flaws in the charts were becoming painfully obvious.
“Clear ahead,” the lookout reported, his voice now under control. Fiona tried not to breathe a sigh of relief. She wished there was something she could do, but she knew that when it came to navigation her first officer was more experienced than she was. If anyone on the ship could keep them safe, he would, and she wanted her crew to know she trusted him. But she was the captain, and her place while the ship was in danger was on the bridge. So all she could do was sit here and watch, and try not to flinch at every flash of lightning.
She had never minded storms when she was little. She had felt safe and snug at home with her father, even as lightning flashed and thunder rolled. Until that horrible day came with the news-
“Captain?”
Fiona mentally shook herself and looked across at the communications watchstander. “Yes?”
“The lookouts on the foredeck report that there’s a...a pod of some sort of sea creatures off the starboard bow.” The communications officer looked almost embarrassed. “I think you should speak to them yourself, captain. They think there’s something strange about them.”
Fiona wondered what could be strange enough to justify reporting a few sea creatures in the middle of a force 10 storm. Yet she was glad of the distraction.
“Put me through,” she said, touching her earbud to bring it online.
“Captain?” a voice said in her ear. “Chief Petty Officer Rajan here. Sorry to disturb you, but Benson here thinks there’s something odd about these creatures. He thinks...well, I know it sounds unlikely, but he thinks they could be...Seakin.”
“What?” Fiona couldn’t help looking startled. The Seakin were a legend, which was quite an achievement on a planet that had only been settled for around fifty years. There were stories that the early settlers had met and talked with a race of sentient sea-dwelling creatures who had once had a civilisation of their own on the planet humans called Estel. There were stories told among sailors, a shape glimpsed far from land, a mournful call heard in the night, but nothing definite. Fiona had never heard of an encounter that she was sure was more than just a story, and she had thought that if the Seakin had ever existed, they were long extinct.
“I know it seems daft,” the chief’s voice continued. “Thing is, I...I think he’s right, captain. And it’s like...like they want us to follow them.”
Fiona shook her head. Maybe it was the storm, but Chief Rajan was usually reliable.
“All right, I’ll come down there and see for myself,” she said. She stood up and glanced at the first officer. “Carry on. I’ll be on the foredeck.”
In the passageway just outside the bridge she quickly pulled on her waterproof overalls, remembering to seal the ankles, wrists and neck baffles before pulling up the hood. The water would still find some crack or gap to get in, if she was outside long enough. She had been a sailor long enough to know that was inevitable. But the overalls would at least save her from getting soaked. She braced herself and stepped outside.
The wind nearly buffeted her over the side. She grabbed the rail and struggled forward, turning her head away from the wind and the light of the bridge windows. As her eyes gradually adjusted to the dark she looked around.
There were no lights of other ships, no sign of any settlement on the rocky islets they had found themselves too close to for comfort. Above, the stars were almost lost in the swiftly-scudding cloud-wrack. Fiona shivered in the wind. Times like this were a reminder that humans were still relative newcomers to Estel, clustered in a handful of towns and farming settlements. Orbital surveys were good, but there were still places out here where no human had ever set foot, and no ship had ever sailed.
Or at least, nagged an uncomfortable thought, from which no ship has ever returned.
Fiona reached the foredeck at last, and clipped the safety-line on her belt onto the rail.
“What have you got to show me, chief?” she asked, shouting above the gale. Chief Rajan pointed, and Fiona peered down into the dark. At first only the white crests of waves were visible in the light of the two moons as the clouds dashed past. Then Fiona saw something, a patch of something darker against the dark sea. She stared harder, trying to make out its shape.
Lightning shot through the sky again, and for a moment the sea lit up, a boiling mass of water and foam. Somewhere behind her she heard the lookouts feeding information to the helm as the flash revealed a rocky island on their starboard beam. Sensors and computer guidance were all very well, but in a storm like this there was no substitute for human input.
In the light from the flash Fiona saw them. Dark shapes bobbing in the water under their bow, seemingly taking advantage of the shelter the ship gave from the wind. Wind, Fiona noticed with a dull thump of dread, which was pushing them slowly closer to the rocks.
One of the shapes looked up, and she gripped the rail tight as it met her eyes. In the moment before the lightning faded, she saw understanding in those eyes.
Then the light faded and Fiona was standing once again in the dark and wind. She switched her ear comm so that she could talk just to the chief and Benson.
“All right,” she said. “I see them. Chief, you said you think they want us to follow them. Why? From what I can see they’re just bobbing along in our lee.”
Rajan looked at Kari Benson, who spoke up after a moment. Fiona thought he sounded hesitant.
“I can hear them, captain,” Benson said. “Not with my ears- in my head, somehow. It’s not very clear, but I definitely can tell they want us to follow them.”
“Follow them where?” Fiona said, trying to keep her incredulity out of her voice.
As if in answer, she heard a low-pitched moaning sound from the patch of dark sea where the creatures bobbed. A moment later, she heard an answering moan from somewhere ahead.
“I’m not sure,” Benson admitted. “Somewhere ahead.”
Fiona looked down again. Another flare of lightning showed her the creatures. One seemed to heave itself partially out of the water, and swung a leg- no, an arm- in a gesture that both beckoned and indicated a destination. Fiona’s eyes followed the direction it pointed, ahead and slightly to starboard. The horizon there was as dark and unknown as anywhere else.
She tried to shut out the storm and think. Part of her wanted to dismiss the whole thing as some sort of mistake. But another part of her was intrigued by the mystery. At the very least, they could update the somewhat rudimentary charts that had been drawn from orbital satellite data, and which had not shown these rocks. Knowing whether they were a reef or islands and how far they stretched could be important. Important enough to risk her ship and crew? She wished for a more definite sign.
Then as she strained to see ahead she thought she saw a tiny glimmer, a warmer light than the silver moonlight or fluorescent lightning. A lamp? Or a fire?
“All right,” she said over the comm to Rajan and Benson. “We’ll see where they want us to go. I’m going back to the bridge. You two stay here and pass on directions, but- try not to make it sound like we’re just following a bunch of sea creatures! This isn’t the time for arguments. Just say which way to go.” She looked from one to the other. Chief Rajan didn’t look too happy. Did she think Fiona was wrong to follow the creatures, or was she just bothered at not being fully honest?”
“Those are my orders,” Fiona said, firmly but gently. “It’ll be my responsibility if anything goes wrong. Keep a sharp lookout and report at once if we’re getting too close to land. And I’ll keep this comm channel open, in case there’s anything else...unusual.”
“Yes, skipper,” Rajan said, nodding.
Fiona gave the chief a nod in reply, and then turned to struggle back to the bridge.
That light, faint though it was, had made the difference. It could be a fire made by survivors of a shipwreck, or some village of settlers no one had known about or thought lost. Or it could be something to do with the Seakin, and maybe they had a chance to see something no humans before them had ever seen. She couldn’t pass up this chance to learn more about the creatures. But her officers would be rightly sceptical. Henry, her first officer, would say it was irresponsible to risk the ship during a storm, and Newton, the officer next in seniority, would say they should treat the creatures as potentially hostile.
And they might both be right. But they hadn’t seen the look in the creature’s eye as it beckoned them on.
The next hour felt like an entire night to Fiona, unable to do anything but wait. As she had suspected, a trickle of water had found its way down one sleeve, and the dampness added to her discomfort at the situation.
She felt a weariness that had nothing to do with the late hour in the ship’s day. The darkness and ceaseless wind seemed to claw at her, numbing her mind. Her mind dwelt more than half in the past, on that dreadful day when her father had told her that her mother’s ship had been lost in a storm at sea, and that no one had survived. Twelve year old Fiona had wept, of course. She had been close to her mother, despite the latter's frequent absence at sea. That had been more than ten years ago. She had been through plenty more storms since then, both on land and at sea. But she had never felt like this.
Perhaps it was that she had never been in command before. Her fears in the past had been only for herself, and perhaps for her father. She had only had to worry about following orders and doing her job. Now, she was the one giving orders, responsible not just for herself but for the safety of her ship and crew. That responsibility gnawed at her tonight as it never had before. Had her mother sat on her bridge during that terrible storm, fear like a solid knot in her stomach, fighting to keep the tension out of her expression as the waves broke over the ship, the ship which yesterday had seemed so solid and now seemed so fragile?
It was of no use to tell herself that she had always dreamed of command, that she had worked for this goal since before her mother’s death. She knew the truth now. She hadn’t been ready for command. She had taken a risk on the basis of a hunch. The decision had been hers, and the responsibility hung heavily on her as she stared out at the darkness and tried not to think about how disappointed her mother would have been.
A crackle in her ear preceded Chief Rajan’s voice. “Captain, the creatures are turning hard to starboard. There seems to be a gap between two islands, or reefs. The light that we saw is almost abeam now- in fact I think there’s another light below it. Do we follow the creatures?”
Fiona swallowed. Taking the ship in amongst unknown islands in the dark, in a storm, was the definition of dangerous. It would be better to stand off and wait for the morning, and for the wind to die down. But by then the Seakin would be gone, and the mysterious lights too. With nothing to guide them they might get into even worse difficulty than if they went in now. And they would likely miss their opportunity to solve the riddle, to learn if the creatures were really Seakin, and what they were doing.
She could consult her senior officers, ask their advice. But there wasn’t time to argue, and anyway, in the end the decision would still be hers. Better to make it now, before she over-thought herself into indecision.
“Yes, chief,” she said, surprised at how calm her voice sounded. “We’ll follow, with extreme caution. Pass that on to the helm. I’ll come out and join you.”
Henry was not happy to hear her decision, but he gave the order to the helm. As she fastened her overalls and left the bridge Fiona saw him glance at Newton, the second officer, with something like a shrug. Despite her worries Fiona had to hide a smile. Normally her two senior officers took opposite positions on everything possible. If nothing else, at least she had finally given them something they agreed on.
Outside, cold rain pelted her face as she forced her way through the wind to the foredeck. She looked ahead as the ship completed the turn to follow the sea creatures. Two lights were clearly visible, flickering in the darkness. One, the smaller, seemed to be lower than the one they had seen first. Perhaps the first, bigger fire was on a clifftop, while the second was on the beach or suspended partway down. As they straightened on their new course she realised that from the new angle, the two lights were directly one above the other.
Chief Rajan had noticed as well. “Leading lights?” she said.
“It looks like it,” Fiona said. “If so, that hopefully means we’ve got a clear passage ahead of us. But keep a good lookout anyway.”
She touched her ear comm to change channel and make sure the lookouts on the bridge had spotted the lights. Lieutenant Henry still didn’t sound happy, but he did seem a little less worried.
Fiona looked over the rail at the sea, and gasped. Dozens of small black heads like the one she had seen before were surrounding them, half submerged in the storm-wrack. More were heading towards them, or were perhaps following the lights, just as they were. Soon they were surrounded. Fiona suppressed a shiver. She had no reason to believe the creatures were hostile, but if it turned out they were her crew could be in a very nasty situation, surrounded, among the rocks in the dark.
She listened. She could hear the low, mournful cries she had heard before, but she could also hear another call, higher and faster paced, almost musical.
“Sounds eerie,” Chief Rajan said.
Fiona shook her head. The sound was strange, but something about it made her feel full of anticipation. Not the anxiety of the last few hours, but the feeling of excitement she remembered as a child, the night before her birthday or some special event.
“Strange, maybe,” she said to the chief. “But not threatening.”
The chief didn’t seem so sure but Benson turned his head to speak to her. “No, not threatening,” she said. “But there’s something they’re excited about. I…I can’t tell what.” He shrugged awkwardly as Fiona looked at him, then turned back to the rope in his hands.
Fiona shook out the water that had once again trickled down her sleeve, and listened to the soundings as Benson started to get the hang of the lead. The depth held steady for some time, then began to shallow gradually. The wind seemed to slacken a little as they moved in closer among the islands, careful to keep the lights directly above one another. Before long Fiona could see that the lights were two large bonfires, one on the clifftop. The other seemed to be near the base of the cliff, and Fiona could see several shadowy shapes moving around it. At the edge of its’ light she could just see a narrow stretch of beach, where more shapes were moving.
Lieutenant Henry’s voice crackled in her ear. “Captain, I recommend that we either turn back or anchor here until dawn. It’s relatively sheltered, but if we go much further it’s going to get tight quickly.”
“I agree, Lieutenant,” Fiona said. “Please prepare to anchor.” She turned to go back to the bridge, unsure of her next move.
“Captain,” Benson said suddenly. “It looks like some of them are coming out to us.”
Fiona swung round. A group of smaller lights was moving towards the water’s edge. As she watched they entered the sea and began to move out towards the ship.
“Captain?” This time Lieutenant Newton’s voice came again over her comm. “It looks like something is putting out towards us. Should I send the crew to action stations in case we need to repel boarders?”
Fiona hesitated. Part of her wanted to say yes, to take the obvious action to protect her crew. But another part of her wondered if that attitude risked leading to exactly the sort of confrontation they wanted to avoid.
“Put the crew on alert,” she said slowly. “But don’t take any action that could be seen as hostile. No weapons are to be trained on our visitors until I give the word. Is that clear?”
“Yes, captain.” Lieutenant Newton sounded disgruntled, but that was nothing new. Fiona sighed. It didn’t seem to be her night for making her officers happy.
She looked back down at the sea, where the tiny lights showed dark shapes approaching surprisingly fast.
“Chief, see if you can get a spotlight trained on them,” she said.
The bright white light lit up the water by the bow as the anchor disappeared into the depths. Fiona watched as the group of dark shapes entered the circle of light. One looked up directly at her. Once again she found herself meeting the creature’s eyes, a gaze so intense it seemed to bore right through her. She gripped the rail and forced herself not to flinch or look away.
She heard Chief Rajan mutter something uncomfortable. She could see in the corner of her eye that Benson, on the other hand, was gazing down at the creatures, his eyes full of wonder.
The creature Fiona had locked eyes with turned away and seemed to beckon another forward. This one held up something, almost like an old fashioned megaphone, in a limb that looked almost like a hand, and pointed it towards Fiona.
“Get down, captain,” Rajan said urgently. “It could be a weapon.”
But Fiona didn't move. For all there was something disquieting about the creatures, she knew, somehow, that what she had seen in it's face was not fear, not hostility. She couldn't say exactly what it was they wanted, but she did not feel threatened.
“It's not a weapon,” Benson said quietly. “I think they want to communicate, captain.”
Suddenly Fiona froze. A curious sensation crept over her. The nearest she could describe it was hearing a voice in her mind, a voice that was definitely not her own. As she looked down at the creature in the water below her, she knew that she was hearing the creature speaking to her.
“Greetings, humans. We welcome you, on this night of nights, to the Gathering of the Seakin. You are welcome to join us ashore as we celebrate the vigil of the Long Night.”
Fiona shook her head and looked at the other two. “Did you...”
Benson nodded quickly, his excitement evident. “Yes, captain.”
Chief Rajan nodded more slowly. “I heard. Do you think we can trust them?”
Fiona looked back at the creatures bobbing in the water, as though waiting for an answer. “I can only see one way to find out,” she said slowly.
Her communicator beeped. “Captain,” Lieutenant Henry said, “We heard a message from our...visitors through the comm system.”
“We heard it too,” Fiona said. She took a deep breath. “I will go ashore at their invitation.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Henry said. His tone made it clear that he didn’t.
“We’ve come this far,” Fiona said quietly. “If we turn down this chance to find out more we may never have another. But I won’t ask anyone else to take the risk. Please have one of the boats prepared for lowering. Keep the ship at alert until you hear from me. If you don’t hear within three hours you are to take over to command and act as you see fit.”
“Aye aye,” Henry said. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before saying, “Good luck, captain.”
“Thank you,” Fiona said. “Look after the crew for me.”
“Captain,” Lieutenant Newton’s voice came over the comm circuit. “Shall I assign an armed escort to go ashore with you?”
Fiona considered it for a moment, but her instincts exclaimed against it. “I appreciate the thought,” she said. “But if they have no hostile intention it will only look as though we were suspicious, and might provoke the very response we want to avoid.”
“And if they do have hostile intentions?” Newton said.
“Any escort we send will be thoroughly outnumbered by our...hosts,” Fiona said. “I will not order anyone to go with me just so that they have a chance of killing before they are killed themselves. I would rather take no weapons and rely on not looking a threat.”
There was a pause on the comm circuit. “I would like it to be noted in the ship’s log that I advised you otherwise,” Lieutenant Newton said.
“Make it so,” Fiona said. “I appreciate your concern, lieutenant. If anything does go wrong, it will be up to you to help Lieutenant Henry get the ship and crew out of danger without escalating the situation. That is your priority.”
“Understood.”
Fiona sighed as Lieutenant Newton cut the circuit, and turned to head towards where one of the small boats was being prepared for lowering.
“Captain.” She turned back to Chief Rajan, opening her mouth to silence further objections. But Rajan spoke quickly. “Sailor Benson and I wish to volunteer to accompany you.” She shrugged. “I heard what you said about not taking an armed escort, but the lieutenant was right that you shouldn’t go alone.”
Fiona looked from one to the other. “It could be dangerous,” she said.
Benson spoke eagerly. “But it’s a chance to do something hardly anyone else has,” he said. “You said we might never have a chance like this again. Please, captain. I understand the risk, but I want to go.”
Fiona eyed him curiously. Benson did seem to have an odd affinity for these creatures. Perhaps it would be useful to take him. And Chief Rajan’s solid, practical presence would certainly be reassuring.
“Very well,” she said to them. “But no weapons. Come on.”
The sea was calmer here among the islands, but from the small boat the waves seemed higher. Fiona felt a little queasy as she sat on the hard seat of the boat, watching as Chief Rajan steered towards the beach, surrounded by their escort of Seakin.
They grounded gently on the pebbly beach, and Fiona felt the two sailors looking at her. She hoped they believed that her shivering was due to the cold wind rather than the possibilities they were facing.
“Follow me,” she said, and stepped ashore.
In the light of the great beacon fire, the Seakin that had spoken before moved forward to greet her, long body close to the ground and moving on four legs, and holding the communication device in one of its’ forelimbs- Fiona wasn’t sure if they could be called arms.
“Welcome,” the Seakin said, lowering its’ head in a sort of bow. Fiona bowed her own head in response, almost without thinking about it. She heard the two sailors pulling the boat further up the beach behind her, and found herself hoping they wouldn’t need to leave in a hurry. All around her the creatures were hauling themselves out of the water and up the beach, heading for where the lower of the two fires illuminated a dark gap in the cliff.
“Come.” The Seakin indicated the flow of bodies up the beach. “Join us inside as we wait for the end of the darkness, and we can talk further.”
Fiona looked up to the dark cave mouth behind the fire. It could be a trap. But nothing she had argued before had changed.
“I would be honoured,” she said to the Seakin. The creature bowed again and turned to lead the way up the beach.
“Comm the ship,” Fiona said to Chief Rajan. “Tell them what's happening, and say we expect to be here some time- probably until morning, by the sound of it. They can stand down from alert status but keep an enhanced watch. Then follow us up. Benson, you're with me. Watch our backs and let me know if you become aware of anything that feels off.”
The two sailors acknowledged her orders and Fiona set off up the beach, Benson at her heels.
Standing the ship down from alert would mean increasing the time before they could respond to threats, but would allow the crew to get some rest. Fiona was willing to make that trade for the sake of the crew- and besides, a better rested crew would perform better in an emergency, and there was no saying how long they would be here.
Loose pebbles crunched beneath her feet as she turned to glance back at the ship. Henry and Newton would get the rest of the crew out, if she didn’t return. Whatever their reservations about her personally, she knew she could trust them to do that. With a deep breath she turned back to the fire and the dark cave mouth.
Inside, sheltered from the wind, it was strangely quiet. Fiona’s footsteps echoed as she blindly followed the passage, hoping she would not trip over the creatures around her. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom she was able to make out a faint luminescence on the rocky walls and low roof, enough to find her way. She hunched over slightly to avoid banging her head, and stifled a chuckle as she heard a soft thud followed by Rajan muttering a curse.
The passage went on. Fiona became aware of a low sound, almost like singing, filtering back to them from deeper into the cave. Or perhaps behind- it was hard to tell in the gloom. The sound seemed wistful, perhaps sad, and yet she felt again that sense of anticipation she had noticed before.
Rajan leaned forward to speak in her ear. “Captain? Our comms are picking up some sort of static, or interference, from the rock around us. If we go much deeper we’ll lose contact with the ship.
Fiona could hear the reluctance in Rajan’s voice, and wondered why she herself did not feel the same fear at being essentially alone.
“Tell the ship that’s what’s happening,” she said. “They have their orders.” She heard Rajan speaking quietly into her comm. A minute later the chief spoke again. “Contact lost.”
They were on their own.
The low singing ahead of them was getting steadily louder. Just as Fiona was starting to wonder whether the tunnel ahead of them was getting brighter, they turned a corner and she stopped short.
Blinking in the sudden dazzle, she looked around the cavern they had reached. It was huge, big enough to fit her entire ship with room to spare. Stalactites glittered in the ceiling, and water dripped from many of them. Channels in the rocky floor gathered the waters into a shallow lake along one side, and the water disappeared into a fissure in the rock. Fiona supposed the underground stream had once carved the passage they had arrived by, but had long since found another path or been diverted.
In contrast to the passageway, the cavern was full of light. Upwards-pointing lamps around the walls were reflected by both the lake and by the walls themselves. Not only the glistening stalactites, but veins in the rock which seemed full of some kind of crystal. In different places the light was the clear white of midday, or the soft gold of sunset, or the green of fresh leaves, or rose pink, or every hue of the rainbow.
The cavern was also full of Seakin. Fiona almost shrank back as they all turned to look as the humans emerged into the light. She heard Rajan behind her breathing heavily, and could practically feel her tension.
She glanced sideways at Benson, who was gazing around the cavern in rapt wonder. Something about his expression made her smile, reminding her of a child seeing a longed-for wish come true.
The Seakin who had led them there had turned to face her. Fiona bowed her head again.
“We apologise for intruding,” she said. “Our ship was seeking shelter from the storm. We had no intention of disturbing your...your gathering.”
“In general we keep our distance from humans,” the one who had led them there replied. “When your kind first arrived we learned to communicate, but chose to stay out of the way, to minimise the risk of conflict between our peoples. But on this night...”
The creature made a movement that Fiona somehow recognised as a shrug. “On this night, the longest of the year, our people travel to...special places, like this cavern, and keep vigil. It is a tradition that goes back to our most ancient ancestors, a night of waiting, a ritual and a story-song to remind us that at the darkest, bleakest times must end.”
Fiona almost gasped. There was a power behind those words, a quiet certainty, that seemed somehow stronger and more real than even the rock which surrounded her. She had never felt anything like that, and yet there was something in it which seemed faintly familiar.
“On this night, we welcome any who make the journey to join us,” the creature continued. “You and those with you are welcome to join us, if you wish, in keeping watch through the night. We ask only that whether you stay or leave, you do so in peace.”
Fiona saw Benson look at her, his face making it clear that he would be more than happy to stay. She glanced at Rajan, who met her eyes without expression.
“We thank you for your welcome,” Fiona said, turning back to the Seakin. “We would be glad to stay.”
Some time later- it was hard to know how much later- Fiona huddled in a corner of the cavern, trying not to shiver. The cave was much warmer than the night outside had been, with no windchill, but it was still only around nine degrees and the thermal insulation in Fiona’s overall was insufficient to keep her comfortable for long. And she still had some water in her sleeve.
She had sent Rajan outside to let the ship know that they would be staying until morning. On her return, Fiona had seen Rajan wander slowly around the circuit of the cavern, her eyes sharp despite her casual demeanour. Then Rajan had hunkered down near the tunnel mouth, and stayed there. Fiona knew that the chief had assigned herself to watch their backs, and that nothing she could say would change her determination to be cautious. In fact Fiona was grateful. Knowing Rajan was on alert allowed her to relax her guard a little and pay more attention to the Seakin.
The low song had resumed after the humans had been welcomed. Fiona saw that not all of the creatures were singing at any one time, but that they seemed to dip in and out as one passage of song ended and another began. She found that while she could not understand the words, or even tell which sounds made up words, she could somehow catch part of the meaning of the whole. It was like overhearing half a conversation, or a comm-call where the audio was broken and you could only see the other person’s body language. The sense of anticipation she had first felt back on the foredeck of her own ship seemed to be slowly swelling and building towards- something. Was it just dawn, the coming of light? Fiona felt that there was something else in the song, something else that was being heralded and prepared for, but she could not tell what.
She felt a change in the music, a stir among the singers, and turned to look at the tunnel entrance just as another group of Seakin arrived. These ones carried burning wooden torches, which Fiona guessed had been lit from the beacon fire outside. As they stepped into the cave the creatures already crowded there cried out together, and the cavern rang with echoes. Fiona saw Rajan tense slightly, her eyes following the newcomers as the crowd parted and they moved slowly to the centre of the cavern. There, a globe of something transparent stood in a groove in the rock, the top part of it open along a jagged rim, as though pieces had been broken off. As the cries merged into a chant, the torchbearers surrounded the globe and inserted the torches into it. It blazed with light, and flames leapt up, their shadows dancing on the wall of the cavern.
As the torchbearers merged into the crowd of other Seakin Fiona found Benson at her side.
“Eight bells, captain,” he said, showing her the timer on his suit which indicated that it was indeed midnight. “Happy Christmas, captain.”
The first settlers to make homes on Estel had decided that the day humans had long marked as Christmas should be celebrated on their new planet’s winter solstice, and should also mark the start of the new year. It didn’t quite tie up with the Earth calendar, but it was close enough to be convenient and had somehow felt right.
Fiona smiled back. “The same to you.”
“We must be the first humans ever to spend Christmas with another intelligent species,” Benson said, his eyes bright in the coloured light of the cavern. “I would never have thought of it being something we had in common.”
“I suppose festivals to mark the turning of the seasons are the sort of thing that could grow independently in different cultures,” Fiona said. “That doesn’t necessarily mean they invest it with religious significance as humans have done, though.”
Benson looked around at the creatures as they settled back into their song. “Doesn’t it feel to you as though they do?”
Fiona looked at him curiously. The young sailor usually avoided drawing attention to himself aboard ship, but tonight he seemed to have found a confidence she had never seen in him before. Or perhaps it was just excitement. His overalls were open at the neck and she saw something tucked inside his uniform shirt that sparkled a little in the light of the cavern.
“Can you understand them?” she asked him. “I can feel their anticipation building, but not much more.”
He looked at her quickly, his cheeks reddening. “I...can understand some of it. I don’t know how. Not words, mostly. Just...feelings. Intentions. They're...it’s sort of like...like seeing some natural marvel for the first time. Or holding a new baby. Something...wonderful, that you don’t have words to describe.”
He looked away, apparently embarrassed. But Fiona understood him.
“Worshipful,” she said.
He looked back at her, eyes alight. “Yes! That’s what it feels like, their singing.”
Fiona nodded, her eyes ranging over the crowd of long, low bodies. Now that Benson had helped her put a name to it, she could sense the feeling all around her and she knew why it was familiar.
Like many sailors and spacers, her mother had been a believer. Fiona had gone to worship with her many times when she was small. But after her mother's death she had stopped. There had seemed no point. If there was any god out there, he hadn't cared enough to keep her mother safe. Why should Fiona care about a god like that?
But at it’s best, the atmosphere in small church she had attended with her mother had felt like a pale version of the atmosphere in the cavern. The intensity of feeling among the Seakin was palpable. Their faith, if that was what it was, was no mere lip service. Fiona could tell that they believed it with their whole beings.
She shivered. The globe of fire was giving out a fair amount of heat, but the Seakin seemed happier with cooler temperatures than the humans found comfortable. There was an almost constant stream of them going in and out of the cave. Fiona guessed that they were taking turns to keep watch for latecomers- and perhaps to keep an eye on her own ship and crew.
Her crew. She slumped into the corner, suddenly unable to hold back any longer the fear and loneliness that had weighed upon her ever since wind and sea had started to rise the day before.
She did not feel fit to be the captain of the Windsong. It was simple, really. She was too young, too inexperienced, to be responsible for the lives and wellbeing of a ship and crew. Many of those under her command were older and knew more of the sea than she ever would. Her senior officers knew she was lacking- how could they respect her when they knew they were better at the job than she was?
She closed her eyes, her head bowed, not wanting Benson or Rajan to see her cry. These thoughts weren’t new. The storm had brought them to the front of her mind, but she had felt the same inadequacy every day since she took command. She had hoped it would fade as she got more used to her responsibilities, but while she hoped that she was managing the day to day demands of the job well enough, managing a crisis situation was the real test of her leadership. The storm had brought her fears sharply into focus.
She found that she was shaking, and this time it was not from the cold. Ashamed, she berated herself for her weakness, and hoped desperately that neither her sailors nor the Seakin had noticed.
She heard- or felt- a sound nearby, and looked up quickly, blinking. One of the Seakin stood looking down at her. She realised the sound had reminded her of someone clearing their throat, and realised the creature had been trying to get her attention.
“I’m sorry,” she said, starting to get to her feet. “I apologise if-”
The creature raised a hand in what Fiona understood as a gesture of reassurance.
“Please, do not be alarmed,” the creature said. “I could sense that you were...distressed. I wish to offer help, if I can.”
Around them the other Seakin were still absorbed in their chant-song. Fiona saw Benson among a group near the lake, and Rajan still sat beside the opening into the passageway, leaning back against the wall with her eyes closed. Neither were paying her any attention, and she relaxed a little.
“It’s kind of you,” she said, facing the Seakin who had spoken to her. This one seemed a little older than average, moving perhaps a little slower and seeming heavier-set than most of those in the cavern. She noticed too that while she perceived their communication as though it were speech, the creature’s mouth didn’t move when she ‘heard’ it ‘speaking.’ The device it was holding seemed to take thoughts or some form of communication beyond what was audible to human ears, and translate them into her mind as speech. She wondered how it was done. Humans could learn valuable lessons from such a device.
“But please don’t worry about me,” she continued hastily, realising that she had not been acting as an ambassador of humanity should in such an encounter. She should have been observing and learning, not dwelling on her own grief and failings. “We are very grateful that you have allowed us to be here. Please, would you be willing to tell me more about what is happening, and what you are celebrating?”
The Seakin looked at her, and after a moment she heard the response. “We call it Star-Eve, in your language,” they said. “The longest night of the year-cycle. From our earliest recorded times we have kept vigil on this night, looking for the coming of the light.”
Fiona nodded. “I understand,” she said, looking at the great orb of fire in the centre of the cavern.
“But it goes deeper than that,” the creature continued. “In gathering to remember that warmth and light will come again, we remind ourselves that we need not fear the dark, because we are not alone in the darkness. There is always hope.”
There must be something about the way the device translated the creature’s speech, because Fiona felt the fierceness of the Seakin’s belief. She wished that she could be so certain of anything, but the Seakin’s certainty just left her feeling lonely and empty.
The creature spoke again, and Fiona felt that their tone was gentle. “I do not wish to give offence. But I cannot ignore your distress. Please, will you not share with me what grieves you? Perhaps then you will find it easier to bear.”
Fiona felt the tears in her eyes again.
“You spoke of hope in the darkness,” she said, after a pause. “I…I have been struggling to find any.” She met the creature’s intense gaze and somehow felt that they could see far more of what she was thinking than a human could have.
“Do your kind not have stories that remind you of the Light?” the Seakin said. Fiona realised that when they talked of the ‘light’ they meant something more than waves or particles that enabled them to see. The meaning that came with the word was similar to the feeling of worship she had noticed before.
“Yes,” she said. “Humans have always gathered in winter to defy the darkness, and told stories of the coming of light. But the stories…they don't seem real to me. I can’t…can’t feel the power in those stories, the way you do.”
“Will you share one of these stories with me?” the creature asked.
Somehow Fiona found herself telling this alien being the Christmas story. “There is one about a person who was called the Light of the World. His birth was marked by a star and people of all kinds came to see him, because they believed his coming was a sign of hope- a sign that we were not alone, that there was…is…someone greater than our world, who loves us.”
The Seakin seemed to be listening intently. “I hear the echoes of the Great Song in that story.”
“The Great Song?” Fiona asked.
“We believe that all stories are part of the Great Song, if they have any truth in them. The same song, across time, space and species.”
The creature looked up, as though seeing through the thick rock above them into the star-spangled sky. “When the world is dark, that is when we most need something to help guide us,” they said. “Like the fires that guided you safely through the rocks to this place. Come.”
The creature turned and walked towards the globe of fire. Fiona followed slowly, all too aware of the gaze of every being in the cavern.
The Seakin reached up to the open top of the globe and seemed to break off a piece of the jagged rim. They turned back to Fiona, and held it out.
“A gift,” they said. “To commemorate this place-time, and to remind you of the power of stories and of the Light that brings hope in the darkness.”
Gingerly Fiona reached out and took the piece of transparent material. It was warm, but not too hot to hold comfortably. Her fingers drank in the welcome warmth. It had the weight and feel of rock, perhaps quartz. Fiona wished she knew more about geology. It reflected the light from the fire, sparkling in her hand like a miniature star.
“Thank you,” she said, bowing her head again. She looked up at the Seakin. “I...I wish there was something I could give in return.” She should have thought about this, should have prepared...
“You have already given me a precious gift,” the Seakin said. “Your story. No other gift is so precious.”
“Thank you,” Fiona said again. “Thank you for your welcome, your kindness, and your gift.”
The song-chant went on for hours. Fiona listened, on the edge of understanding. It felt as though the song had become part of her.
After a long time the song seemed to reach a crescendo, and Fiona saw that the Seakin were forming into a procession. Some- including the senior one who had spoken with Fiona- were lighting torches from the globe of fire. That Seakin looked at her and she felt the invitation. Catching Benson and Rajan’s eyes she joined the procession as the torchbearers led the way through the narrow passage and out onto the beach.
When they emerged from the cave the first light of dawn could be seen in the sky ahead of them. The cold wind seemed to strike through her as if she had fallen into icy water. Shivering, Fiona looked out anxiously to see the outline of her ship against the paling sky, lights marking her mastheads. She rode comfortably at anchor, seemingly calm, and Fiona let out a sigh of relief.
The Seakin crowded round the dying remains of the beacon fire, all facing out towards the bay and the distant place where the sun would appear over the horizon. The sky was clear now, and one of Estel’s two moons was visible near the horizon, a silver disc amid the myriad tiny points of starlight, fading now as the light grew.
“Captain?” Chief Rajan muttered, close to her ear. “I’ve got comms with the ship again. All’s well. They’re asking if we are in need of any assistance.”
“Tell them we’re fine,” Fiona replied. She glanced at Benson. Like the Seakin, he was gazing out to sea, fully immersed in the moment. The chanting all around them was reaching a crescendo.
Fiona stood, only half aware of the cold and wind. Something in her soul resonated with the almost tangible sense of anticipation, and reached out to join with the Seakin in a moment of strange communion.
All of a sudden the Seakin shouted as one. Fiona heard her own voice crying out wordlessly, and was dimly aware of Benson’s voice joining in as a gleam of yellow appeared over the horizon. The bay was flooded with golden light, and for a few moments it almost seemed as though the sea was on fire.
Silence fell, apart from the sound of waves on the beach. Fiona saw Chief Rajan shift her weight slightly, and then wince as the crunch of pebbles underfoot seemed to cut through the silence like an old-fashioned gunshot.
For a couple of minutes they stood like that, until the sun was fully clear of horizon. Then someone- Fiona thought it was the older Seakin who had spoken with her during the night, but she couldn’t be sure- began a new song. Fiona listened as others joined in, trying to make out the meaning behind it. It was a warm feeling, a calm joy.
The song ended, and the Seakin began to move, approaching one another and bowing until both heads touched in what seemed to be their equivalent of shaking hands, or perhaps a hug. Fiona wondered if she should have done that when the Seakin had welcomed them.
She found Benson was looking up at her. “Thank you for letting me come, captain,” he said.
“I was glad of your company,” Fiona said. She looked from him to Rajan. “And yours, chief. Thank you.”
“It’s been quite an experience,” Rajan said, looking round at the Seakin. “But I’ll be glad to get back to my bunk and breakfast.”
“I think you’re right,” Fiona said. “We should be saying our goodbyes.”
Again she wished she had brought something to give the Seakin. They had offered their welcome, taking Fiona and her companions into a special place and time. It didn’t seem right to leave without making some offering in return.
As if understanding, the Seakin elder had made their way over to her. “We would be glad to welcome you again. But we must not keep you from your own kind.”
“We should be going back to our ship,” Fiona said. “You would be welcome to visit us, if you wished.”
As she said it she wondered what the expression on her officers’ faces would be if she escorted a delegation of Seakin onto the bridge. Lieutenant Newton would have some kind of fit at potential enemies being given that kind of access, and Lieutenant Henry...Fiona could not imagine his reaction.
“Another time, I would be delighted,” the Seakin replied, to Fiona’s relief. “But today is a feast-day, and I must join my kin.” The Seakin bent forward, and reached out a hand to gesture at the piece of transparent rock that Fiona still held.
“Remember, however dark the night, the stars are always there, behind the clouds. How did your story put it? The Light of the World. The true Light that came into the world to bring hope.”
The Seakin bowed its’ head. Fiona bowed too, and this time she felt the creature’s short fur brush gently against her hair. As she straightened up she saw Benson and the creature exchange the same greeting. Rajan only gave a restrained nod, but Fiona thought that even she seemed more relaxed than when they had arrived.
“I hope we meet again,” the Seakin said, then turned as if to usher Fiona and her escorts towards their boat.
As Rajan steered the little boat towards the ship Fiona tuned her earpiece to contact the officer of the watch. Lieutenant Henry responded, relief and weariness both audible in his voice.
“Glad to see they’re letting you return to us, captain,” he said. “When we saw how many of them were gathering on the beach we were concerned.”
Fiona wanted to say it had all been under control, but she paused. Somehow anything other than complete honesty seemed unworthy of the night she had just passed.
“Going ashore was a risk,” she replied. “I knew that when I chose to go. But it was the right thing to do. I’ll brief you and the other officers once I’m aboard, but there’s no need to worry about the Seakin. They’re not hostile. So long as we aren’t aggressive we’ll be fine.” A new thought occurred to her. “You’d better have the medics on standby to check us out, just in case we’ve picked up any non-human diseases. I doubt it but we’d better check.” She wondered if she and the others had passed any human diseases to the Seakin. That could potentially be awful. But if the stories were true, humans and Seakin had met before without either suffering. Either they were resistant to human infections, or Seakin medical care was good enough to counter them. The Seakin had not seemed worried, at least.
“Work up a course out of here, please,” Fiona said. “We might as well be on our way while it’s light.”
“Already done, captain,” Lieutenant Henry said. “We’re ready to get under way as soon as you’re on board.”
“Thank you,” Fiona said. “And…Lieutenant? Happy Christmas.”
The medical checks seemed to take a long time, and her brief description of what had happened to the other officers seemed to take even longer. But she was surprised by how genuinely pleased both Lieutenants Henry and Newton were that she was back in one piece. Maybe, Fiona thought, they didn’t think she was so useless after all.
By the time she could retreat to her cabin she scarcely had enough energy to undress before collapsing into her bunk. She wrung out her damp sleeve and felt in her pocket for the piece of quartz that she had put there for safekeeping before coming aboard. As she held it she thought she could hear an echo of the song of the Seakin. She put it on the shelf beside her bunk and looked into it, as she pulled the covers over her cold body, remembering the flickering light of the cave and the warmth of the fire globe. She smiled, and closed her eyes.
It didn’t seem long before she was woken by a loud beeping. She surfaced from a deep dream to find the ship rolling in a heavy sea.
She sat up with an effort and put her comm earpiece in. “I’m here.”
“Sorry to disturb you, captain,” the officer of the watch said in her ear, “But the wind’s getting up again, and while we thought we’d left the islands behind a while back, we’ve just sighted some more coming up to starboard. I recommend you have a look at our position before we find ourselves in another difficult place.
Fiona glanced at the window. The clouds had returned, and the short midwinter day was coming to a gloomy end. This felt uncomfortably similar to the lead up to the storm of the day before. Had she dreamt it all, the Seakin, the cave, the fires? A cold feeling seemed to sink into her as she looked out at the gathering dark.
Then her gaze travelled down to the small lump of transparent rock on the shelf below the window. It had not been a dream.
“I’ll be on the bridge in a couple of minutes,” Fiona said into her comms. Her voice was calm and steady, and for a moment she remembered her mother’s voice sounding like that when comforting her for some minor childhood mishap.
“Thank you, captain,” the officer of the watch replied, and Fiona heard relief in his voice.
She looked down at the quartz again as she dressed hurriedly. What had the old Seakin said? ‘Something to help guide you.’ A reminder that there was always hope, even if you couldn’t see it.
“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”
That had been one of her mother’s favourite verses, and Fiona smiled as she remembered her reading it, despite the grief the memory evoked. She put the stone in her pocket, a talisman against her fears, and turned to face the storm.
