Captain Venus

(This is the second story about The Dean and his crew. Read part one here.)

The night guard ran out of the palace, leaving the heavy door ajar. Tripping, swearing, spitting, and crossing himself, he ran across the garden, his eyes fixed on the gigantic golden cross on top of the temple ahead.

Through the opened door of the palace’s basement the glowing blue light poured, as if the moon had just risen inside. In the basement, the vintage metal boiler rattled and cracked, hissing, the light seeping through its seams. The professor stepped out of the shadows and threw the lid open.

“Welcome back, Mr. Dean,” he said.

A shiny ivory sleeve appeared, then another hand. The cloud of white hair rose above the rim. The Dean pulled himself up and rolled over the side of the heater, his sandals slapping against the basement floor.

“Hello, Professor,” he said, and stretched his hand out. “I thought Pip would be here.”

The Professor squeezed the offered hand but didn’t let it go. He stared at his sneakers, then cleared his throat.

“I couldn’t bring myself to tell him,” he said.

***

As soon as the sunrise turned the clouds above the sea milky-pink, the professor and the Dean left the palace.

“It’s better to meet them on the beach,” the professor said. “The palace becomes crowded very quickly.”

The Dean eyed the tourists who already hurried to take the best spots near the water, even though the pebbles were still glossy and cold with morning condensation.

“Tons of them will come to watch the eclipse this evening despite the heatwave, won’t they?” the Dean asked, eyeing the shore.

“Just like last year.” The professor nodded.

“Just like last year,” echoed the Dean.

Neither looked at the other. The Dean shifted the pebbles with his sandals. The professor coughed into his fist and stared at the stretch of the beach to his right.

“There they are,” he said.

“Where?” the Dean asked, looking where the professor pointed.

A green plastic pedal boat, four seats: two facing forward, two facing back and a slide in the center, was gliding toward them, sending a wide fan of water from its sides. Pip and Eve pumped their knees up and down as they were pedaling the boat toward the shore. When they spotted the Dean and the professor, they threw their arms up, shouting.

“She pedals like a pro, look,” Pip screamed from the boat, raising his knees, as Eve kept pushing the pedals on her own. The boat sped faster through the final stretch and crunched its plastic nose into the shore.

“Climb up,” Eve waved them onboard. “I worried we wouldn’t all fit in. But then I figured the Captain would love to ride on top of the slide… Where is she, by the way?”

The Dean looked at the professor and the professor looked back at the Dean. Both looked down.

“What’s wrong?” Eve asked, her smile fading. “Is she okay? Did something happen on the road? Pip said you’d traveled from afar…”

She stopped talking when she saw Pip’s face. He paled watching the Dean’s eyes. The Dean’s beard moved. He sighed, pulled the hem of his robe up, and stepped onto the boat.

“Let’s take a ride, Professor,” he said. “Keep pedaling, kids. It will be a long talk.”

The Dean watched the shore recede, as the jagged outline of the mountains grew taller above the town. He glanced at the professor. The professor’s eyes were fixed on the same spot on the cliff. He felt the Dean’s gaze and raised his eyebrow as if asking a question.

“You’re okay there in the back?” Eve asked. “Not seasick? We can swap. Do you want to pedal, Professor?”

Before the Dean or the professor could reply, they heard Pip’s voice.

“What happened to the Captain?” he asked.

Eve glanced at him, then at the Dean who sat across from her. The Dean just closed his eyes and rubbed his eyebrows.

“Well…” He started. “Do you remember the last eclipse?”

“The one that was a year ago?” Eve asked. “Of course. You were preparing for a trip that day with the Captain. Right, Professor? You went along, didn’t you?”

“I did,” the professor said, but his voice was distant as if he spoke from a deep well.

“And?” Pip asked.

“The Captain was left behind there,” the Dean said. “Abducted.”

Both Pip and Eve spun around, abandoning the pedals. Eve moved a strand of hair away from her eyes, stared at the Dean and then at the professor.

“Where?” she asked.

“In the Upper Pleistocene,” the Dean replied.

“What?” Pip asked in a tone that made Eve jolt.

“Isn’t it a time period?” she asked, moving her eyes back to the professor. He looked away to watch the sea. “Professor, isn’t it a time period?” She pulled him by the sleeve. “It’s not a place, is it?” She looked back at the Dean. “Where’s the Captain, Mr. Dean?”

“In the Upper Pleistocene.” The Dean nodded, as if that cleared everything up. He didn’t add anything else, and just watched the seagulls.

Pip dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

“What’s going on, Mr. Dean?” Eve asked carefully, trying to catch his eyes.

“Is she alive?” Pip asked, his face still in his hands.

The professor coughed and said, “We have a reason to believe that yes, she is. We found new Venus figurines–”

“They do look different,” the Dean said, gesturing with an open palm as if what the professor said made any sense.

“Stop it!” Eve slapped her seat and everyone shuddered. “I don’t know who of you forgot to take their pills, or maybe you all had too many, but the Captain is in danger, and here you are, playing riddles–”

“It’s not that simple, Eve,” Pip said.

“Oh, is it not?” Eve raised her eyebrows. “Fine,” she said.

She dropped back onto her seat and started pedaling.

“When you excluded me back then as we hauled that thistle into the basement, I thought: fine, these people are weird. Maybe they’re drunk. They don’t know me. It’s their inside joke. They can’t share. I am a newcomer.” She glared at Pip. “But now?”

Her knees pumped fiercely as the boat was flying toward the shore, scaring seagulls.

“Hold on, Eve,” the Dean said, raising his hand.

Eve kept pedaling.

“Eve, let’s talk,” he tried again.

She crossed her arms as her legs kept working on the pedals.

“Your lot never listens, does it?” The Dean’s voice boomed. Eve dropped her feet from the pedals and stared at him.

Their pedal boat spun and started gliding back into the sea, as if pushed by an invisible gigantic whale. Eve’s eyes grew wide. She bent over the rail to check the water. There were no waves, no wind – the sea was still.

“We’re in a current,” she said, hurrying to put her feet back on the pedals. “Quick, Pip, push. We’re being carried away.”

But Pip didn’t move. Eve ground her teeth, her face went red, as she rotated the plastic pedals – all in vain. Eve’s hair streamed in the air as the boat was sliding far into the sea. She looked up and there was no shoreline anymore. She twisted and spun, but it was just the same smooth water everywhere around and the pale blue sky with the white horizon that encircled them. The sun glared from the side which used to be the east, but now there seemed to be no east, or west, or any navigation left.

Eve let go of the pedals and turned to the Dean. She stared at him, as the boat kept moving. The Dean held her gaze, raising his eyebrow.

“I’m sorry for the stress immersion, Eve” he said. “But we’ll need your help. So you’ll have to understand things quickly, even though they are impossible to understand.”

“What?” Eve whispered. A tear escaped from her eye. “What’s happening?”

The Dean winked, and the boat jolted to a stop. The Dean tilted his head, and the boat began to spin slowly: a whole loop to the left, then one to the right.

“I’m getting seasick,” Eve said, and dropped back into her seat, covering her eyes with her hands. The boat leaned slightly, and she heard splashes, as if someone was walking over puddles. When she moved her hands away from her face, she shrieked.

The Dean stood right in front of her. On water. The sea sagged slightly under him, like a thin layer of transparent rubber, but it didn’t let him through. He bounced on the surface like a seagull.

Eve grabbed Pip’s hand.

“Mr. Dean,” Pip said, squeezing Eve’s hand, “I think this is enough.”

“What do you mean?” Eve whispered. “You see this too?”

Pip held her hand and stretched his lips into a thin line, the way he did when he smiled through guilt.

“I do see this, Eve,” he said. “This is Mr. Dean’s way to explain to you that some of us are slightly different from others… Slightly different from you. Like…” He gestured at the Dean. “He can walk on water, for example.”

The boat floated peacefully, the water lapping at its sides. No one spoke. The Dean rubbed his beard, glanced at Eve, who sat staring at the plastic floor between her feet. He sighed and started humming a song. The boat began rotating to the rhythm, left and right.

“Can you stop that?” Eve snapped, still staring at the floor. The Dean stopped humming; the boat stopped moving. Pip’s hand landed on her shoulder. She raised her head, searching his face, then squinted.

“Does it make you an angel?” she asked. Pip laughed.

“He’s too naughty to be called that,” the Dean said.

The professor chuckled. “Well, some angels are said to be notoriously stubborn–”

“You knew?” Eve spun to face him.

The professor stopped smiling and popped his shoulder up. “I mean… For some time, yes.”

Eve sighed and turned away. “Well, this explains why you’re weird too.”

They started laughing, but Eve gasped and hopped to her feet. The boat rocked and everyone grabbed their seats.

“You said she’s in the Pleistocene,” Eve said, her eyes wide. “Like, with cave people? How? Why?”

The Dean sighed, sending a large wave across the water.

“Now we can talk,” he said.

Eve sat back down and started slowly rotating the pedals. The breeze on her face told her that the boat began to move.

“Talk,” she said.

The Dean cleared his throat and thought for a moment.

“What do you know about cave people, Eve?” he asked.

Eve shrugged. “That they lived in caves? I don’t know. What should I know?”

The professor turned to her.

“What tools did they use?” he asked.

“No idea. Wait. Flints?” Eve said, still staring at the infinite blue ahead. “We sometimes find those in the mountains.” She gestured back to where she thought the cliffs should be.

The Dean smiled. “We planted those.”

Eve turned to him.

“Like herbs?” she asked, but then returned to her seat, shaking her head. “I can’t do these riddles anymore.”

The Dean scratched his beard. “Okay, here is the full story,” he said. “The flints that helped you…I mean that version of Sapiens before you… create new tools – we planted those.” The Dean pointed his finger at Pip and then himself. “Me, Pip and the Captain. We visited the planet at crucial moments and planted crucial tools–”

“Wait…” Eve turned to Pip. “You’re that old?”

Pip giggled. “Age is just a number.”

She spun back to the Dean.

“And then what? Why is the Captain still there? She can’t be there. I saw her here a year ago.”

The Dean pointed toward the sun.

“The solar eclipse,” he said. “Every eclipse, everyone who knows the right coordinates can transfer back into the chosen moment in time where the eclipse is also happening.”

Eve stared at the Dean, unblinking. The boat kept moving on its own, but she didn’t care anymore.

“They abducted the Captain while she was leaving tools?” she asked.

The Dean winced. “Well, no. They abducted her when she was collecting something they carved with those tools.”

“I just can’t with you…” Eve sighed, dropping her arms.

“Right,” the Dean said. “You know how the Captain always mingles with the crowd?”

Eve nodded.

“She makes friends everywhere,” the Dean continued. “She shares. She likes teaching. She likes locals. She blends in.” The Dean smiled, remembering. “They liked her in the Pleistocene… Then, a few centuries ago you guys… I mean a few generations before you… started digging up those Venus figurines–”

“Oh, I know those.” Eve clapped her hands and turned to Pip. “I saw the photos: small, round female shapes.”

The Dean nodded.

“These ones, yes,” he said. He cleared his throat. “They are the Captain.”

The professor pressed his fist to his lips to suppress a laugh. Eve looked at him, then at the Dean. Her eyes grew wide. Then she burst out laughing.

The Dean laughed too, waving his hands.

“Well, what can you do? She’s a little bit vain like that. She wanted freshly-carved figurines. So during the last eclipse we went to get them…”

Everyone stopped laughing. Silence fell. Pip sighed, shaking his head. He looked at the professor.

“But there were two of you. Couldn’t you stop them?”

The professor shook his head.

“They ambushed us,” he said. “The moon was sliding away from the sun, and they just jumped out of nowhere. They didn’t have to drag her far. One step to the wrong side and she was out of the transfer spot.” The professor took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “The last thing I remember is the Captain fading into the past.”

Eve wiped her cheeks and sniffed.

“But she’s alive, right?” she asked. “You said she was alive?”

The professor nodded quickly.

“Yes, I analyzed the figurines that came before and after that threshold. They look different. The ones that came after are more detailed. We hope…” He shrugged and cast a glance at the Dean. “We hope they watched their model.” He looked at Eve. “A living model.”

Eve dropped against the back of her seat.

“All right…” she said, slowly rotating the pedals. “So how are we getting her back?”

“By climbing that mountain,” the Dean said, pointing.

Nothing was there just a moment ago, but now the shore snapped back, as if someone had flipped a switch. Children squealed in the water. Heads and inflatables bobbed on the waves. The mountain range faded through noon haze.

“We’re climbing mountains at this heat?” Eve asked.

The Dean peered through the haze.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “But this is where the transition spot is.”

Eve covered her head with her hands to hide from the suddenly scorching sun.

Pip cleared his throat.

“Also,” he said, “you’ll need your puffer jacket. Better yet, the one with the hood.”

Eve jerked her head to him. Pip rubbed his hands against his shoulders, the way people do when they get cold.

“It’s called Ice Age for a reason,” he said.

They set off when the air began to turn golden. The cliffs regained their contrast after the sun had rolled closer to the horizon. The town emptied while people found refuge under air conditioners or in the sea waves. Eve wiped her forehead, pacing uphill along the deserted street.

“Carrying this puffer jacket in this heat is surreal,” she said. “I can barely touch the rocks without getting burned.”

The professor huffed.

“Is that the only part that feels surreal to you?” he asked, bouncing his backpack as something clanked inside.

Eve gave him a side look.

“This is the easiest one,” she replied.

She eyed their procession. They all carried backpacks except for the Dean. He walked light, his ivory robe flying like a sail in the hot wind.

“Is there a plan? For when we’re there, I mean?” she asked. “I know some taekwondo–”

“No taekwondo,” Pip said, walking in front of her. “We cannot harm them.” He turned to her. “Or you might find yourself erased.” He winked.

Eve halted, processing the thought. She raised her eyebrow. “Then what? Do you want to tickle them into surrender?”

The professor bounced his load again; something clanked louder this time.

“What do you have in there?” Eve asked.

“Laser pointers,” he said.

Eve stopped so abruptly that he bumped into her.

“You mean, like for cats?” she asked.

The Dean’s voice flew from far ahead. “Exactly,” he said. “The eclipse will start the early dusk. We’ll distract them with the laser pointers.”

Eve resumed her walk, silent. Then she said, but quietly to herself, “If you are the mastermind of this whole world, I’m not surprised it works the way it does.”

“I’ve heard that,” the Dean said from the distance.

They found the trail overgrown. Thorns and ferns formed green waves above slippery limestone chippings. Every few steps they had to drop their bags and rest. Eve panted. The professor’s feet kept slipping. Pip marched behind the Dean who seemed to be gliding uphill losing no energy.

“Mr. Dean,” she said, catching her breath. “Can’t you maybe… teleport us all there?”

“I’m not a wizard,” the Dean said, without turning to her. “Never was. This is the biggest misunderstanding–”

“With all due respect,” the professor cut him off. “But we all saw you this morning.”

The Dean turned around and sighed. He waved at the sea that shimmered down below.

“It’s just me and the physics of the place.” He looked down at them. “It’s different for you. What can I do? C’mon, let’s go. It’s not so far away.”

Eve puffed, picking up her backpack.

“Well, change the physics then,” she mumbled.

The Dean’s voice carried from above.

“Trust me,” he said, “you wouldn’t want that.”

The tiled roofs below grew smaller as the sun rolled closer to the horizon. The winding path seemed to end directly up in the sky as the cliff dropped at the end of it.

“Since you can hear me from any distance,” Eve said, no longer raising her voice. “I’d love to use the chance and ask you… Why are there wars, and why can’t you stop them? Or is that about physics too?” She didn’t look up, but everyone stopped walking. She knew the Dean was looking at her now. She kept on moving.

“I have no idea, Eve,” he said. “It has never been my choice. It’s your choice–”

Eve shook her head. “Nope, definitely not mine,” she said, pushing past him. The Dean stepped aside to let her go. She heard the voice behind her.

“People are just predisposed to it, I guess. That’s all,” the Dean shouted after her. “That’s who they are.”

The uphill climb ended abruptly and everyone stepped onto a flat trail that ran along the gorge.

“Look,” Eve said.

On the opposite side, among short withered trees, gaped a triangular mouth of a cave.

“Yep, that’s the one.” The Dean nodded.

Eve’s lips moved as she searched for words.

“You mean,” she whispered, watching, “they live there?”

“Not yet,” the professor said. “That is, already not,” he added, laughing. “This is where they all lived, yes. Thirty-three thousand five hundred and twenty-three years ago.”

Eve watched the cave. She no longer felt exhausted or thirsty, or like her head was going to explode from heat. The cave entrance glared at her, empty and quiet. She thought she could feel a gust of cold air coming from it.

“We have arrived,” the Dean said. He stood on a slab of flat rock, which protruded over the gorge. His robe flapped like wings behind him.

“Whatever you do, Eve,” Pip said, “when the moon starts sliding away from the sun, you must be on this slab of rock. Cling to it with your nails and teeth if you have to, but don’t step aside to the ground. The next eclipse won’t happen soon. Nobody will come back for you.”

Eve gripped her backpack straps.

“Let’s just get the Captain,” she said and headed toward the Dean.

The sun was setting, flushed red like an apple. They stood with their backs to each other, forming a circle.

Pip unrolled his coat and put it on. The professor wrapped a woolen scarf around his neck. Eve eyed them, pulling her puffer out.

“It’s absurd,” she mumbled, putting it on.

“All right,” the Dean said. “It’s starting. Pointers out.”

And that’s when Eve burst into laughter.

“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head, picking up the laser pointer from the professor. She tapped the button, directing the light into her palm to check. It cast a four-leaf clover. She saw it and guffawed. “Really, I’m so sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes, feeling the Dean’s eyes on her. “I mean, why not peace signs then?” She almost squeaked.

The Dean turned away to face the cave, raising his pointer. “It had to be something natural, something they would already know, so they wouldn’t incorporate unneeded knowledge.”

Eve chuckled once at that. “I think it’s too late for that.”

She was still biting her lip trying to control her laughter when the moon started erasing the sun. She grinned as the first gust of cold wind almost knocked her off her feet. Her smile froze and stayed that way when the thorns and the spikes disappeared, as if watered out from reality.

“What’s happening to the sea?” she whispered.

The professor leaned over and whispered back, “A lot of water is trapped in the ice. There’s less of it in the sea. The shore is now far away.”

There was no more sea left – just a distant blue ribbon. Instead, yellow plains with blotches of white ice or snow rolled below as gusts of wind pushed tall dry grass.

Eve gasped. “What are those?” she asked.

Dark heavy shapes moved through the plains, like bulky furry trucks.

“Take a guess,” the professor said.

Eve stood, shivering, her fingers numb on the cold metal of the pointer.

“I’m watching living mammoths,” she whispered.

The Dean elbowed her.

“Let’s quit sightseeing, shall we?” he said. He peered into the cave. There were no trees around anymore, just withered shrubs. Snow stuck inside the mountain cracks. Warm orange light flickered inside the cave, reflecting in the icicles above its entrance. “Do you see anybody in there?” the Dean asked.

A thunderous voice flew from the rock above them.

“Hello,” it said.

They all jumped and looked up. The Captain sat on a construction which resembled a palanquin. She was draped in animal hides that drooped over her like ponchos. The Captain raised her hand to wave, and myriads of snail shells rattled on her wrist.

Eve squinted and saw six people in the shadow under the palanquin. Dark, tall, covered in furs and rags, they looked almost like part of that cold landscape. Eve lifted the laser slowly. The Dean pushed her hand down.

“You’re all right there, Captain?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m fantastic,” she shouted back. “I’m a deity now.” She spread her arms, displaying bone-white necklaces which glowed in the dusk.

The Dean grunted. The Captain pulled out a Venus figurine from her furs and gestured downward with it. The men carefully lowered the Captain to the ground.

“What did you expect me to do, Dean?” the Captain asked, hurrying toward them. “I was already a deity in a way. I just played along.” She spotted Eve. “Oh, I’m so happy to see you here too.” She grabbed Eve in a hug. A murmur flew from behind the rock. The Captain gestured toward the rock, calling someone.

“What’s going on now?” asked Pip.

People stepped from behind the tall rock – blurry dark shapes of men, women, children. They sniffed the air and were now getting closer, slowly, watching the Captain’s face.

She nodded at them, waving her figurine. She then plopped down onto the rock slab. The people surrounded them. One by one, without taking their eyes off the Captain, they sat in a tight chain around the slab.

“I told them I’d be leaving,” the Captain said. “I drew pictures to explain. They think I need to go away to repair the sun–”

“Oh, Captain, why would you–” the Dean started.

“I needed a serious reason to leave, didn’t I?” the Captain interrupted him. “C’mon, sit,” she patted the rock beside her. “Let’s watch the eclipse.”

Eve sat down. The Dean, Pip and the professor lowered themselves on the other side. They all exchanged some looks and then turned to watch the glowing crown of the eclipse.

An elder woman sat next to Eve. A gust of wind rolled through dry herbs. The woman burrowed herself deeper into her furs. Eve smiled, and rubbed her hands against her shoulders. The puffer squeaked. The woman reached out to feel the fabric. As Eve sat still, the woman’s hand ran along Eve’s back and discovered the hood. She pulled it over Eve’s head, and then patted around to check whether it covered Eve well enough. Satisfied, she nodded.

“Thank you,” said Eve.

The woman smiled and placed her hand, palm up, onto her own knee. Eve watched the deep lines on her palm, and then, smiling, she placed her hand on it.

“Careful, Eve…” Pip lowered his voice.

“I’ve got this,” Eve said.

She looked up as the sky grew almost black. With no light around, it shimmered as if covered in snowflakes.

The woman raised her head and watched the stars too. She sighed. Eve sighed. The same stars twinkled above them. It was quiet.

As the sun began to emerge from behind the moon, the purple sunset sea began to reappear, as if superimposed over the roaming mammoths of the plain. At first, Eve still felt the warmth of the palm under hers, but then there was just a warm breeze left. She looked to the side and saw the cave. The entrance was dark again, surrounded by trees.

The Captain’s bracelets jingled like tiny bells as her feet, wrapped in leather, stepped over rocks and roots. A cricket chirped in the darkness. The salty air hung thick and heavy.

“You know what?” Eve said, breaking the silence. She carried her hand close to her heart, keeping the warmth.

“What?” the Dean asked, knowing it was addressed to him.

“I think you were wrong about people.”

The Dean didn’t reply, and everyone continued to synchronize their steps to the jingles of the Captain’s bracelets.

***

Pip, Eve and the professor stood in front of a tall cliff wall. Soon it would be discovered by tourists, then by scientists. The path to it was still unmarked. The twigs and leaves obscured the way. If someone managed to push through that jungle, they would see a smooth and orange surface, reaching all the way up to the new highway.

“There you are,” Pip said, tapping an ancient drawing carved in red which showed a figure with a circle around the head, like a halo.

Eve traced the halo, remembering. In the drawing, a row of figures sat under a crossed-out sphere, which only they knew was the sun.