Origins of Hope

by Anastasia Drapievsky

  Xenith frowned. He understood why kids joined at a young age. Besides the transition to Aorírdal being easier, Aorírdal was the only place with the skills and knowledge to contain and train children whose abilities already rivaled the headmasters of galactic psychic guilds.

  “Was it difficult to take me?” Xenith enquired, voicing a thought he had been meaning to ask.

  Mato looked him in the eyes, unwavering. “Yes, it was.” He inclined his head. “It always is difficult.” His voice dropped to a low melancholy before returning to normal. “However, the alternative of staying where they are is almost always worse.”

  Xenith nodded, not perturbed by the answer. Everyone at Aorírdal had heard of stories of children that a sympathetic Prior would leave in the hands of their parents, only for years later unleash hell during their adolescent years. All runal had high chances of depression, suicide, and substance addiction to cope with their abilities, even if trained by other well-established guilds. The most recent runal incident took place six centuries ago when a young Lyre Selyn, an untrained transmuter, accidentally changed their natural habitat of lush forest to a dried husk of a landscape; not even their desert dwelling cousin species, the Aphin Selyn, could live in the new landscape. Beyond the billions of credits it took to resettle the population, the Selyn casualties numbered in the hundreds of thousands, and it took four centuries of constant terraforming for the continent to return to its previous state.

  “What do you mean, ‘almost always’?” Xenith frowned, looking up at Mato. “Is there a possibility that it would be worse to have someone here rather than be a runal?”

  Mato fell silent for a moment, as he usually did when he wanted to present a careful answer. “One hopes that I am wrong,” he said, his large gold irises clouding. Xenith drew a breath, nearly hoping Mato would spill out some doom and gloom prophecy, but Mato’s eyes cleared and he gave two short chuffs of laughter. “Luckily, I am proven to be wrong on most occasions.”

  “Any foresight on me?” Xenith grinned, despite knowing Mato never revealed a single prophecy to anyone besides the Sacrist.

  “If there were, I wouldn’t be able to tell you anyway.” Mato ruffled Xenith’s hair with a large hand despite Xenith scowling up at him. “The future is much too hard to read and too many people have tried to avoid their fate and ended up becoming the thing they most feared.”

  “Which makes no sense,” Xenith muttered, removing Mato’s hand off his head with a half exasperated, half fond expression.

  “I will have to request additional media then,” Mato mused aloud, scratching his chin. “Even humans have several millennia of content regarding this topic. As a new psionic species, it is fascinating that humans dedicated a multitude of arts to clairvoyance millennia before it even existed in your species.”

  “Speaking of new psionic species,” Xenith said, recalling the news bulletin that had been flashing on all the networks, “The S’en have successfully colonized their second homeworld. If the GA got to them—or The Ascendancy,” he added quickly, since Mato’s species belonged with The Ascendancy, “do you think we would add them to Aorírdal?”

  “That is highly confidential,” Mato said with a stern tone. Xenith almost protested, before he felt a buzzing in the back of his head again. Mato had let out feelers to ensure no one else was listening, and Xenith grinned as Mato communicated back, >>However, some S’en have comparable levels to human and Krshk psychics. Perhaps not in our lifetimes, but within the next two generations, we might. Of course, one never knows.<< He winked to Xenith, an expression Mato had worked hard on to ensure humans in Aorírdal felt included.

  >>You mean, you saw…?<<

  >>I sadly can’t share anything.<< Mato’s mind felt guarded, and as attuned to other people’s thoughts and emotions as Xenith was—even when the vast majority of the time he didn’t want to be—only Mato could fully guard his thoughts from him.

  They reached the end of the hall, with a single closed door that led to Mato’s room and office. “Thank you for accompanying me, Xenith.” Mato clapped a hand on Xenith’s shoulder, which Xenith found to be better than having hair ruffled around like a kid. “I am sure you did well on your exams.”

  Xenith crossed his arms suspiciously. “Don’t you know that already though?”

  “That I do.” Mato’s thin black lips curled into a smile. “And no, I can’t tell you right now; you will have to wait like the other apprentices.”

  “Fine,” Xenith grumbled. He may not have liked it, but he understood that it wouldn’t be fair to anyone else. “Have a good afternoon, Mato.”

  “You as well,” Mato said, and entered his room and closed the door behind him. Xenith took a moment to stare at the door with fondness, then turned to take his leave.

  ∆∆∆

  Having stopped by Krian Hekla’s door and hearing that Hekla and Nentok still conversed, Xenith sent Nentok a quick message via his neural Tristat that he would be in the atrium when Nentok finished speaking with his mentor. Sending a telekinetic message during a meeting would be rude, and as much as Xenith liked and got away with skirting the rules sometimes, Hekla spoke about Nentok’s academic performance. Nentok may act like he didn’t really care about his apprenticeship, but he took it seriously in private. Xenith could feel through the door despite the Psionic-Dampening-Tech—or PDTs—that protected Hekla’s office, that Hekla’s anger had dulled into pride and Nentok’s feelings of apprehension had turned into elation. With a pleased grin, Xenith made his way to the atrium.

  The day cycle in the atrium had moved from bright afternoon to an orange glow of early evening, and most of the students had vacated to their rooms or the cafeteria. Several Caretakers tended to the plants, either using hydrokinesis to water the plants, or using clairsentience to coax the flowers to close for the night. Even with artificial sunlight, some plants needed special care.

  Turning around the bend of a large metallic gold cacti, Xenith spotted a very young human boy sitting on a bench. Sporting black hair and tanned skin, the boy's legs swung as he sat hunched over with his head down, holding something in his hands. A small holo of a woman projected from his cradled palms, and while Xenith couldn’t see the boy’s face, grief radiated from the boy’s mind. Xenith frowned. This wasn’t the first time Xenith had seen him, and usually Xenith had only spotted him in the cafeteria, looking just as sad as he did now. Most kids took about a year to adjust to their new situation, and since they saw counselors regularly Xenith never felt worried about the new children when they first arrived. But didn’t Hekla say he was having trouble—

  Xenith shook himself. The kid would be fine. He turned out well adjusted, after all. Yet, instead of continuing to the cafeteria with the other students, Xenith moved in the boy’s direction, who didn’t even look up when Xenith got close to him. “Zander, right?”

  The boy’s head whipped up at Xenith’s voice, startled with large violet eyes, his face stained with tears. “W-what?” the boy asked, his voice thick. He hurriedly wiped his eyes. “How long were you staring at me?”

  “I just got here,” Xenith said, holding up his hands and ignoring the panicked and jumbled thoughts that jumped from the boy’s mind. “I wasn’t staring, I promise.” Kid’s a little jumpy, yeesh. Looking down at the holo, Xenith gestured to it. “She’s pretty.”

  “Huh?” The boy looked down at the holo. Xenith felt worried Zander would immediately close it shut and stow it away, but to his relief, the boy didn’t. “Oh, yeah. She’s the prettiest person in the whole universe, with my…” Tears filled his eyes again, and he wiped them away. “I want to see my sister…”

  Quickly thinking, Xenith wondered how he should distract Zander before he started sobbing. Qianii was the one great with kids; what would she do? “I miss my mom and dad too,” Xenith said, sitting down next to Zander, putting a little space between the two of them since Zander felt skittish. “It was hard for me at first being here, too.” When the boy didn’t answer, Xenith care
fully put a hand on his tiny shoulder, patting it like Mato would. “Is that your sister?” He gestured with his free hand to the holo. On closer inspection, the woman looked to be in her forties, with thick black hair and deep brown eyes that pierced through a virtual interface into reality.

  Zander sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “No. This is my mom.”

  “Oh.” It wasn’t unusual for humans to have siblings several decades apart since within the last hundred years they almost doubled their life expectancy. “What is her name?”

  The boy sniffed again, frowning in concentration. “I think Dad called her a different name when she was alive, so I don’t remember: ‘Honey’. But Celes—my sister—” he teared up again, and Xenith gently patted his shoulder, “she said mom’s name was, 'Akira'.” He carefully pronounced the name, unaccustomed to saying it.

  Xenith quickly tried to think of what to say next, since he didn’t want the poor kid to burst into tears again. “Akira is a very nice name,” he nodded, looking at the holo. “I’m sorry about your mom’s passing.”

  “It’s OK,” Zander said, his head still bent down. “I don’t remember her a lot, but Celes said Mom would always watch out for me. Celes did too, but she still isn’t here yet…” his eyes filled with tears again, and a wave of intense grief rolled off the boy and made Xenith flinch.

  Panicking and setting up a mental barrier, Xenith tried to think of what to say. Outsiders couldn’t come to Aorírdal, but if he told Zander that, who knows how badly the kid would react? What do kids like to do when they’re… whatever age Zander was? Xenith liked playing with toys when he was six, especially robots.

  Xenith stood up, startling Zander enough to stop crying. “Hey, I was about to head to the cafeteria and get some food.” Xenith jerked a thumb in its direction behind him. “Would you like to come with me?” At Zander’s hesitation, Xenith added, “There’s a toy room here somewhere too. Would you like to go play after we eat?”

  For several long seconds Zander said nothing, but then he slowly nodded and Xenith breathed a sigh of relief. Zander closed the holo-locket, stowing it underneath his shirt, and took Xenith’s hand. Blanching, Xenith hadn’t offered to hold the kid’s hand, but Zander’s mood felt more secure at the contact, so Xenith didn’t shake him off.

  Xenith closed his pale hand gently around Zander’s, who squeezed his palm. Carefully letting his mental shield down, Xenith felt a bit of hope from the boy, like the first rays of light peeking through clouds after a dying hurricane.

  “I’m going to show you where the big kids eat,” Xenith said as he guided Zander towards the cafeteria, earning a hint of a smile on the boy’s face. Perhaps channeling Qianii’s confidence and Mato’s inclusion was working. “You’ve had Krixxes before?”

  The boy shook his head. “No. I never even heard of it.”

  “It’s from the Krshk,” Xenith said, “and it looks like a squid.” For good measure, he wiggled his fingers with his free hand.

  Zander grimaced. “It sounds gross,” he said, but his smile had grown.

  “It doesn’t wiggle around when you eat it,” Xenith teased. “And kids under ten typically don’t eat it, but…” He made a show of looking around for other people, then lowered his voice, “I’ll let you have some of mine if you promise not to tell.”

  “Really?” Zander’s violet eyes grew round. “I promise not to tell.” He made an ‘x’ symbol over his heart. “Thank you, Mister…” the boy blinked, looking up at Xenith’s face. “I’m sorry; what is your name, sir?” He asked in a practiced polite tone.

  “No ‘mister’ or ‘sir’ for me,” Xenith waved his hand. “I’m only eighteen.”

  “That’s really old,” Zander said, frowning.

  Xenith chuckled. “Don’t tell that to any of the elders then. I’m Xenith Lucian.” He did a mock bow, and Zander giggled. Yes, a laugh! Score one for me! “But you can call me Xenith, or Xen for short.”

  “Xenith is a really cool name,” Zander said, giving Xenith an actual smile for the first time. “I’m Zander Dušánek.” He carefully said his last name, as if worried that he would mispronounce it.

  “It is nice to meet you, Zander.” Xenith returned the smile with a genuine grin, then asked with a spurt of inspiration, “Race you to the cafeteria?”

  “Really?”

  “Only if you don’t tell the Leliches on me,” he winked.

  Zander’s eyes lit up. “Yeah!” He immediately dropped Xenith’s hand and sprinted as fast as his little legs could carry him. Xenith paused for a moment, chuckling as the kid took off. Maybe Zander just needed a nudge to feel better. After all, Mato had given Xenith a nudge ten years ago, and it was all Xenith needed to feel comfortable enough to make friends.

  As Xenith jogged after the boy, pretending to struggle in keeping up with Zander every time the kid looked back, a form of a woman appeared at the corner of his eyes. Turning his head, he found nothing but a ‘t’ shaped cactus. He rolled his eyes for mistaking a cactus for a human, before Zander turned back and looked at the same cactus. Xenith heard Zander think, >>Was that…<< before the young boy caught Xenith watching him, and sprinted faster. Shrugging it off, Xenith followed, his optimism matching Zander’s.

  Two

  “We have been contracted to eradicate two H-XIKs in the Neufan continent on Endeavor.” A hologram of a Levan wavered in front of Ayzize, bands of light flickering from the poor reception on the cargo ship. Despite this, a passerby could still discern the humanoid figure having azure skin similar to the scales of a lizard, with thick black clothes covering the rest of its body. Its head was mostly humanoid, with a set of slightly smaller round eyes, a flat nose, and spiky ridges running along its jaw. Venar Doth, the Chairman and leader of Raxdrýn Enterprises, looked and emulated cold pragmatism. “The XIKs are the first priority for the mission; upon elimination, work with the locals to ensure the virus has not spread.”

  Ayzize nodded grimly at the unspoken sentence. The virus had to be controlled during the initial symptom stage and if it broke out, it was his responsibility to keep the virus contained. Fortunately, he knew the area well. It was a rural area of the planet with few people, and thus had less chance for the virus to spread far and fast compared to urban centers.

  “Any other objective?” Ayzize asked. The Chairman had sent him a net-mail earlier stating the mission had two priorities rather than one.

  “Yes.” Doth began to pace, the hologram stuttering. Ayzize did not mind. “After your business is concluded, catch a shuttle for the Meribi continent for the town of Beir, just outside the city of Lexia.” Ayzize lifted an eyebrow in surprise, but Doth either didn’t see or care about it. “One of our... patrons... has found a male human candidate along with a substantial monetary contribution.”

  Ayzize didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Correct city, wrong gender. “And you want this child evaluated?”

  “Yes. Assess the child and send a report back to me within forty-eight hours. Dismissed, Nelowie.” After Ayzize saluted in goodbye, Doth inclined his head and flickered out of sight.

  Exhaling sharply, Ayzize leaned back against the metallic wall, mentally shutting down the Augmented Reality lounge that Raxdrýn paid a large sum of credits for. AR lounges were already expensive to maintain and keep private, and long-distance ones more so, but it was a necessity. When a job takes one across all the known galaxy and required intel to survive, the organization would pay anything, even if it meant doing whatever needed to keep a steady income of credits.

  Despite the three galactic alliances firmly stating the Verakas Virus had been rapidly declining for the past few centuries, Raxdrýn Enterprises—formerly Raxdrýn Viral Eradication—still kept a lot of business. Beyond creating and distributing the only vaccine that worked past the incubation state, they had moved into other services, though they still proved to be the most effective at XIK ‘removal’. Rural populations and far-flung planets still had a moderately high risk of a XIK a
ttack, and when planetary governments couldn’t bother sending out an official team to take it out, they or locals contacted Raxdrýn Enterprises. Ayzize grimaced. Who better than the organization that turned the tide against the Verakas Virus over a thousand years ago?

  The metal walls against his back rattled and his universal translator spat out a message stating that all passengers needed to return to their seats before the ship made an orbital entry in the next five minutes. The ship must have passed a little too closely to Endeavor’s moon to have the hull shudder this violently, and Ayzize stood up. The motion sensor over the door allowed him out of the closet he had appropriated and he headed back to his seat.

  Squeezing through the packed compartment of buckled-in humans, most avoiding his gaze or outright snarling at him, he found his seat and buckled himself in while his neighbor dozed on. While fighting XIKs stemmed his fear of most anything, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t follow safety regulations. His girlfriend, a former Republic pilot, would harass him otherwise.

  ∆∆∆

  The two XIKs were of the non-psi human variety, and thus the fight ended quickly. The H-XIKs had hidden in a large wheat field with the stalks shredded in wide arcs, and Ayzize merely needed to put on full gear with powered down AETs. He launched an attack while the locals watched fearfully a kilometer away. Both H-XIKs needed little application of force. A quick two minutes fight with a twenty meter radius of broken wheat stalks later, Ayzize stood over the last H-XIK, stomping on its neck. It struggled no more, and Ayzize kicked it on top of the other H-XIK in disgust.

  After looking around the field to ensure nothing else lurked, XIK or non XIK, Ayzize withdrew a small torch pack he had requisitioned since his last job and set fire to the bodies and the immediate area where any blood had spattered, scorching the Earth. He kept the fire contained, walking and coaxing the flames back if they grew too far from the immediate area, ignoring the indignant shouts and yells from the several dozen farmers outside the field. Once the embers died down, he mentally switched on his Tristat’s holo display to scan the immediate area, luckily finding no other vectors, before heading towards the huddled mass of humans to scan them.