Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets: The Official Movie Novelization

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The slimy body of the jellyfish oozed down, plastering itself to Laureline’s face and swallowing her slender form down to her waist. It was even more disgusting than she had anticipated, and for a second she had to fight a quick frisson of fear as it pressed its gelatinous body over her mouth and nose. Yet she realized that, somehow, she could still breathe.

She placed aside all thought of queasiness and revulsion, and focused on Valerian.

In her mind’s eye, she visualized him as clearly as she possibly could. She tried to remember everything: his face, his laughter, and his smart-assed, playful superiority. His voice, his scent, the feel of his touch. The pressure of his lips against hers. How he had looked when he was holding her, right before their arrival at the station. His eyes wide and soft, listening to her as she poured out some of her most private thoughts, which she had never shared with anyone. Her realization that, before he had answered and been interrupted, he had been trembling.

And so had she.

Valerian…

And then all at once, even though her eyes were closed, Laureline could see.

She was struggling out of the gel-like cocoon that the Pearls had—

No. She wasn’t.

Valerian was.

The Doghan Daguis had been right. She was seeing everything through his eyes.

Laureline’s heart sped up as she experienced everything with him: the startling, oddly euphoric sensation of running clear through walls with no fear of harm; leaping into space while creating your own stepping stones of translucent blue; running through nuclei fields, and being telepathically yelled at by furious Omelites; chasing the impossibly beautiful Pearl vessel, the shock of watching it splinter into several smaller ones; the decision to chase them down with the Sky Jet.

“Fifteen seconds!” The voice was jarring and almost pulled Laureline out of her focus. It took a heartbeat for her to realize it was one of the Doghan Daguis yelling a warning.

She dipped back down into Valerian’s viewpoint, watching as he fired a harpoon that connected with the pretty, swift little vessel. She could feel her heart slamming against her ribcage now, faster than it had ever beaten before. Faster than it ought to beat.

Valerian was towed along as the ship tried to break free. It was hurtling him back and forth, like a child’s plaything—

Sweat began to sheet down Laureline’s body.

Back and forth Valerian swung, until at last—the hull of a cargo ship approaching, fast, too fast, and the Sky Jet slammed—

Laureline screamed.

The wreckage lay there, illuminated by erratic, faint, purple-blue light. Laureline was making bargains with the universe when, thank goodness, Valerian pulled himself out of the smoking wreckage of the Sky Jet, swayed, then slumped to the ground.

Everything went black. Then, suddenly, Laureline was out of his point of view, staring down into the precipice at his too-limp form. Valerian! His image suddenly became blurry. For an awful second, she thought she was losing contact with him, but then she realized that it was only her own tears that obscured her vision.

The voice of Burgundy penetrated her fear, shouting, “Thirty seconds!”

Laureline stared at Valerian an instant longer, then set her jaw. Crying over him wasn’t going to save him. Figuring out where he had crashed would. She tore her gaze from his sprawled body and looked around the precipice where her vision-self stood.

“Fifty seconds!” yelled Yellow.

“Get out!”

“Now!” shrieked Burgundy.

Laureline couldn’t.

Not yet. Not before she had located the man she—

The image blurred a second time, but not from tears. Laureline suddenly felt exhausted, as if she had run a hundred miles without stopping, and realized it wasn’t her body, but her mind that was growing exhausted from the strain.

Come on, Laureline—

And there. Her frantically seeking gaze fell on a pipe with words painted on it. Her head was starting to spin. She fought against it, but her legs quivered and abruptly gave way. She landed hard on her knees, but she had seen and memorized the information.

L.630.E.SUL-DEACTIVATED.

The image faded away.

Laureline could barely lift her arms, but she forced herself to do so. Shaking, numb fingers fumbled to grip the slippery creature that covered her head and torso. With her last ounce of energy, she wrenched the clinging creature off her. It landed on the deck with a soggy splat and she stared at it, trembling, drenched with sweat and seawater, exhausted to near-unconsciousness.

The jellyfish had turned completely black.

“Incredible!” Blue exclaimed.

“One minute—”

“—and ten seconds!” crowed Yellow, excited.

“A record!” announced Blue.

The jellyfish quivered, and as Laureline watched, her lip curling in disgust, it pulled itself to the edge of the dock and slipped back into its element with a soft splash.

“Are you all right?” Burgundy asked, worried.

“Did you find him?” Yellow inquired.

Panting, Laureline blurted, “L.630.E.SUL… DEACTIVATED.” Still on hands and knees, she glanced up at her companions. “Any idea what that means?”

They looked at one another meaningfully, then Blue spoke. “Level six hundred thirty East.”

“Most likely a sulfate pipe,” added Burgundy.

“Deactivated, apparently,” Yellow said, seemingly annoyed at being stuck with stating the obvious.

These three had been the source of many an irritation in the past. But today, they’d done everything they said they would do, though, admittedly, for a fee. Because of them, she was going to be able to find Valerian.

“Thanks,” Laureline said sincerely, and gave them all a smile.

“Our pleasure, Sergeant,” Blue said. He put a stubby hand to the center of his narrow chest and bowed slightly.

“You want a detailed map?” offered Burgundy.

And, naturally, Yellow added, “For an absolute bargain.”

Sergeant Neza, at least, had some good news for Okto-Bar: they had located Agent Laureline.

Tall, slim, ramrod-straight, Neza pointed to the station’s map. “We biologically traced Sergeant Laureline to here.”

“What was she doing out by the Galana Sea?” Okto-Bar asked, surprised. This whole thing was becoming stranger by the minute.

“We don’t yet know, sir,” Neza replied. “What we do know is that afterwards she stole a vehicle and headed into the red zone.” His assuredness faltered slightly as he added, “We lost track of her at that point.”

Okto-Bar’s eyebrows rose. The red zone… A slight smile touched his face. “No idea how, but she must have located the major!” A little more good news, if it was true.

Another sergeant poked her head in and asked, timidly, “General? There ah… there are three Doghan Daguis who claim to have information that might interest us.”

No one liked Doghan Daguis. They lived by selling information, not volunteering it. The young sergeant had been right to be hesitant to mention them. But at this point, two of the spatio-temporal agency’s best were missing, and Okto-Bar was not about to let any lead— even one brought to him by a trio of Doghan Daguis— pass by unexamined.

“Let them in.”

Okto-Bar turned as the three shuffled in obsequiously.

He eyed them each in turn, sternly.

“Our humble respects, General,” Blue began.

“May you be healthy—”

“—and prosperous,” Yellow finished, and gave Okto-Bar what passed among his species for a smile.

“Shoot,” said the general, brusquely. He folded his arms.

They spoke, and the more they said, the grayer Okto-Bar’s face grew. When they were done, he had a knot of cold fury in his stomach. To Neza, who also looked stunned and slightly sick, he said, “Follow me.”

General Okto-Bar marched into the interrogation room with four of his best people at his heels. Trundling along behind them, as fast as their short legs would carry them, came the three Doghan Daguis. The guards who had been standing at the door stood at attention, looking confused, a little scared, and as if they wished they were anywhere but here.

“Sir, we—” one of them began.

“Open that door, Lieutenant,” Okto-Bar said in a chillingly soft voice, “or you’ll be very sorry you didn’t.”

She did.

Okto-Bar truly hoped that the information purchased from the Doghan Daguis had been wrong. But, sickeningly, it wasn’t.

The slender, pale alien was tied to the chair. He had obviously been beaten, and when that hadn’t produced the desired results, well—the general suspected that the dozen or so tubes that perforated his body were not supplying anything wholesome. The three small aliens who had led him here were now peering cautiously in the door.

Okto-Bar whirled on the poor creature’s tormentor and demanded, simmering with anger, “Captain! What’s going on here?”

The captain stared at him, obviously panic-stricken. His eyes flitted about as if searching for an escape route and his voice quivered as he replied. “I report directly to the Commander Arun Filitt! I don’t have to—”

“I am General Okto-Bar!” he roared, stepping in to close the distance between him and the captain. He had lost whatever shred had remained of his patience. Patience had no place in the face of torture. “In the commander’s absence, I am in command on Alpha Station. Sergeant Neza—arrest these men! And release that poor fellow immediately.”

Sergeant Neza and another soldier eagerly hastened to obey the general’s order. The Doghan Daguis lingered at the door. They looked like they were lapping this up.

The pale alien had been liberated from his bonds, and two of the men were removing the drips. His head lolled back and his thin chest heaved. Okto-Bar stood beside him and said, his voice gentle yet still filled with righteous anger, “I deeply apologize for your mistreatment. We’re going to take you to our jail now, because your people attacked us, but I promise, our doctors will take care of you. You won’t be harmed anymore.”

Even as he spoke, Okto-Bar wondered if the creature would survive long enough to be treated. What had been done to him…

The being opened impossibly blue eyes and smiled feebly at the general. With an effort, he reached up a hand and grasped Okto-Bar’s.

“Help us…” he pleaded.

It was a curious request from someone whose species had attacked the station, but Okto-Bar said, “If you want me to help you, tell me all you know and, first of all, why you’re attacking us.”

Faintly, the battered prisoner replied, “Because… you have… what we need.”

He closed his eyes. For a moment, Okto-Bar thought he was gone. Then, unexpectedly, the wounded being stretched his arms out wide and arched his back, as if he were trying to embrace the whole universe.

A blue wave seemed to surge from his body, pulsing as it rippled across the room, through the room and everyone in it, while they stood, eyes wide and mouths open in wonder.