Origins of Hope

by Anastasia Drapievsky

  The Mimõkians still looked worried, their gold feathers puffed up and talons digging into their straps, but they seemed to settle into their seats a little easier at least. Celes kept her frown, but said, “OK, you’re right. If you freak out, I’ll freak out.”

  “Good.” Ayzize eased into his seat.

  "That is pretty cool that you know all of this, though,” she said as he waved the holo of the wormhole and the ship aside. “Did they teach you this at Raxdrýn?”

  Ayzize chuckled bitterly. “No. It's just a hobby.”

  Minutes later, several crewmen came down to make sure everyone was buckled in properly and tested the life support to ensure it worked. The beings in the compartment chatted freely or stayed silent, before Ayzize’s Tristat interpreted the intercom announcement to remain strapped in for the entire flight duration, and to have all devices switched off before approaching the Liet gates. Celes tried mouthing out the Mimõkian words quietly; she didn’t sound half bad at imitating most of them, which Ayzize hoped would contribute to Doth keeping her only in the security sector. No need to spout ten languages at a XIK before it mauls you.

  “Why are the gates not here by the station?” Celes asked when the ship undocked, a subtle hum sounding through the compartment.

  “Building the gates can be very dangerous if mistakes were made.” Ayzize pulled up a holo of a circular gate. “These are artificial wormholes, and we basically rip into space to make them. If it goes wrong though, it can become a black hole. A relatively small one, but one nonetheless.”

  “Like what happened with The Ash?”

  “Yes.”

  “Won’t the Liet gates suck in the nearby planets, even if it is some systems over?”

  “Depending on how close they are, yes. Even if it doesn’t, it screws up the gravity balance in that system or even another system over; that’s why we have gates further away from habitable planets.”

  “Has a gate become a black hole, other than the Ash?”

  Ayzize nodded grimly. “Yes. Besides multiple species having close calls—if not outright calls—it has happened before. A long time ago, when the Tial originally experimented with them, they had a few disasters before they perfected the Liet gates.”

  Celes frowned, her brow furrowed. “The Vhent didn’t create the gates?”

  Ayzize chortled. Common misconception. “No; while they had impressive technology, the Tial were the most advanced in astrophysics and tech that got them to the places they wanted to go. At least, that’s what the records show; this was over eighty thousand years ago before the Tial left for Andromeda."

  Celes’ eyes went round. “That’s a really long time.”

  “Yes.” Ayzize switched off the holo as an announcement came through to switch off all devices. He frowned. She should know this history by now, and it worried him she didn’t. “This is going to be a weird question. What did your teachers tell you about history?”

  “Uhm…” Celes paused, clearly wondering if this was a test. “They taught us a lot about human history, like the fusion age in the 2100s, exploration in the 2300s, colonization in the 2500s, and then first contact in 2600s.”

  “And after that? Any other species?”

  “They said they would get to that in secondary education.”

  Ayzize wanted to bang his head against the metal walls. This is what happens when appropriate funding isn’t allocated, damn politicians. He had really taken for granted his education back on Earth, which taught the GA species history alongside the human ones since primary. Note to self: Remedial education. Celes has a lot of catching up to do.

  Celes must have caught a grimace or a frown, since she looked down and said, “Sorry. I tried to find out about species on my own…”

  “It’s not your fault,” Ayzize sighed, ignoring the hull shaking, though the other people in the compartment looked around nervously. “With your curiosity, you’ll probably soak up all the information that you get, so I’m not worried if you’re behind.”

  Celes smiled and perked up, though she looked around when the hull shuddered again. “Uhm, is it supposed to do that?”

  “Yes,” Ayzize said. “Happens after a jump, like the shuttle did when we jumped to the last orbital station. It’ll shudder several more times since it is jumping systems, before we get to the system with the Liet gates.”

  “I’m kinda mad that we can’t see it.”

  “There will be a pause when we get to the Bahk system, since they need about ten minutes to make sure the ship is in the right condition to use the gates after the jumps, and the gates are stable.”

  “What if the ship isn’t, and the gate isn’t?”

  This kid has so many questions… he groaned to himself. “There is a space station nearby; if something is wrong with the ship, we will deboard and wait on the station while they make repairs to the ship. If the gates are being recalibrated, then we will still deboard onto the station. Doesn’t happen very often though.”

  Fortunately, once they reached the Bahk system, the crew announced after a pause that both the ship and Liet gates were ready. Ayzize heard the familiar buzz of the life support firing up, ready to deploy. Celes looked up to her life support box when she heard the buzz, as did several other species, though several Iaiedal didn’t, as their species could not hear as well as others.

  While Ayzize could not use the holo to show her their position relative to the gates, he had traveled enough to know the signs of approaching, entering, traveling, and exiting the gate. After the announcement came through of approaching the gate, Ayzize explained the situation to Celes—and the Mimõkians across from them, who fixed their eyes upon him. “The lights may dim once we’re in the wormhole; again, that happens often and is normal,” he added, Celes nodding and the Mimõkians squawking in confirmation. “We might shake a little, but again, that is normal.”

  Still, when the announcements came through that they entered the gate and the hull shivered, Celes’ hand snatched the side fabric of Ayzize’s trousers, her usual warm tawny skin nearly white at the knuckles.

  Unsure of exactly what to do, Ayzize’s first thought was when he, at age five, had gripped the hem of his father’s shirt when he had first seen aliens, and his father had taken his hand with a confident smile. That had made him feel calm and safe. Celes is older than that, though; she doesn’t need that kind of coddling—

  Heavy gravity washed over them, something he had forgotten to mention. Subtle enough for him to roll off, but the Mimõkians squawked loudly in panic with other people in the compartment shrieking, and Celes started shaking, her eyes wide in fear. Awkwardly, Ayzize patted her hand. “Forgot to say, that’s normal too,” he called to the spooked Mimõkians while Celes breathed in short gasps. Oh wonderful, if this gets out of hand she will start having a panic attack. As much as he didn’t want to revisit the past, the only good reference of interacting with children were his parents, so he had to get over it for the time being.

  “Take a deep breath,” he ordered, and she did so, her chest rising and falling. “Start looking at your surroundings. How many people are onboard?”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Start counting. Aloud.”

  She did as he ordered, and the panicked look on her face slowly faded. Upon reaching thirty-two he told her to describe the colors of her clothes (his were all black). Once she calmed down enough, along with the Mimõkians who had followed along with Celes, Ayzize sighed a breath of relief.

  “Sorry, I forgot to mention that…” he muttered.

  “No, it is actually pretty cool!” she said as another gravity wave went over them. “Is this what an AR coaster simulator feels like?”

  “Sort of,” he said, never having been on one before. Traveling through gates frequently and fighting XIKs were exciting enough. “It comes from pulsations of the engine, and it’s normal.”

  “Wow, you really know a lot about ships!”

  “…I do,” he merely replied.

/>   Ayzize kept Celes’ mind occupied for the rest of the flight, the ship smoothly exiting the gate an hour and over fifteen thousand light years later. They jumped three systems over to dock at the nearest orbital station. Once the announcement came through that the passengers could disembark, everyone eagerly took off their belts and metal strappings, stretching their limbs. The Mimõkians that sat across from them stopped Ayzize and Celes as they deboarded, their feathers on their heads fluttering gently.

  “Thank you for your lessons,” one of them with red and orange plumage said, giant yellow eyes trained on Ayzize. “We were not initially included, but you still addressed and assured us on my family’s first flight. Accept our gratitude.”

  “Er,” Ayzize said, looking between the five Mimõkians staring at him, and Celes looking at them in confusion. “I accept your gratitude. It was a gift.”

  The Mimõkians fluttered their head feathers again, then headed towards an internal mag-train that would take them to another terminal.

  “What was a gift?” Celes asked as he led her to the opposite mag-train station that would take them to the food vendors.

  “Mimõkians with the Hul culture focuses on exchange; if you help them and expect nothing in return, say that it is a gift. Otherwise they’ll follow and pester you until they figure out what you want.”

  “What if you owe them something?”

  Ayzize laughed. “Same thing. It is equivalent exchange though, and not all Mimõkians are like that. Just the Hul.”

  “Kind of like we have different cultures in humanity?”

  “Exactly.”

  After they grabbed a quick bite to eat, Ayzize gave Celes five minutes to run around the observation deck before they boarded their jumper shuttle, which bounced another five systems, before getting to their final orbital station. By this time, Celes was getting tired, and dragged behind as they disembarked from the jumper ship. She had to have environmental force-fields surround her since she needed more vaccines.

  This orbital station hosted even more aliens than the hub station, since it orbited an Independent Nation colony and thus was neutral territory. Humanoid Rovanians with a slew of tech embedded in their skin and corded hair milled about, colorful Levan argued with anyone close enough, religious Chilao hummed in a circle by a window, and many other species rushed for their terminals. While Celes looked around, her drop in energy was noticeable.

  “Where are we going?” she whined, shuffling behind him as he hurried for a lift in their terminal. She watched two mammalian Guanghial lumber past.

  “Something you should see before we board the last shuttle,” he answered, motioning her to move faster. “You can sleep on the shuttle and the mag-train.”

  She groaned loudly, but at least dragged her feet faster.

  They boarded the lift, and it zoomed upward, reaching the mid-section of the orbital station. The doors hissed open and revealed the wide observation deck, with ceiling to floor windows that stretched the entire radius of the station. Clean, white stadium seating flowed downward several rows, with a smattering of people talking and looking out the windows while others napped. As soon as Celes beheld the scene, she shrieked and ran straight for the windows, gluing herself to them.

  Smirking, he followed her down the ramp to the windows. A view of a planet took up a large part of the window, with the side facing them drenched in nighttime. The continents spider-webbed in light, and the ocean contrasted pitch black. Two moons orbited the planet, while the yellow sun shone in the distance. The surrounding stars glittered, and the armband of the galaxy stretched behind the sun.

  “Is this...?” she said as he approached, and he could see her wide-eyed reflection.

  Ayzize gazed down at the planet, remembering the first time he had seen it. While he did not have the same doe eyed expression, he still had shared the same emotion: hope.

  “Tezěkír,” he said, patting her shoulder with a smile, and she gazed up at him, wonder beholding in her eyes. “Your new home.”

  Nine

  Several days after the ceremony, Xenith got ready for the day in his room. Putting on his robe and running his fingers through his hair, he reached out and tapped the wall. The wall rippled from a beach scene into a mirror, and he surveyed himself, grinning. His blue robe with a white sash denoted his newly instated rank of Master, and it went well with his sapphire eyes and black hair with navy tones.

  “Wow, I still can't believe this,” he said, touching the wall again. The wall rippled back into the beach scene, complete with a sunset and waves rolling gently on the sand. After a quick glance of his room to make sure it looked orderly, he exited and headed out for a meeting with Mato. All Krians had to meet up with Mato to determine their next steps, and while Xenith had been feeling giddy since graduating, a knot of worry had formed in his stomach. Many other new Krians now trained in their chosen fields, and he remained stuck in indecisiveness.

  He passed the atrium on his way to the elevators, coming across a Melyn class relaxing. He spotted Zander playing with several kids, and Xenith grinned at the happy thoughts rolling off the boy as Zander playfully tumbled with a Kath’laka, both of them laughing. Xenith waved to Zander when he caught his eye, and Zander waved back, his thin arms swooshing through the air in enthusiasm. Chuckling to himself, Xenith continued his way to the elevators.

  Reaching the administration level, he walked down the plain white hallway. Xenith stopped at the door at the end of the hallway at Mato’s office, and waited patiently. He could feel Mato’s presence inside, and within moments the doors softly hissed open.

  The first thing people noticed about the Prior’s office was the huge floor to ceiling window that took up an entire wall, displaying the Tyli nebula. The ceiling also opened into a window, showing more of the Tyli nebula and The Wellspring, a white dwarf star the station orbited. Round rugs and pillows lay in the middle of the office, several plush couches stationed by the windows, and a wooden desk in front of a wall of bookshelves containing printed and electronic material from all over the galaxy.

  Mato sat at his desk, his frown at his holo screen turning into a smile as Xenith stepped in. “Ah, Xenith, good to see you,” Mato beamed as he waved his hand to shut off the holo screen, approaching Xenith and clapping him on the shoulder. “Congratulations! I’m proud of you.”

  “That’s the fifth time you said it in three days,” Xenith grinned sheepishly.

  “And yet, you still smile.” Mato ruffled Xenith’s hair then turned for the rugs and the pillows. “So, you’re here to go over your rotation path and ask some questions, yes?” He bent and sat down heavily on a pillow that could easily seat three humans.

  “Yeah,” Xenith said, joining him in the circle of pillows and sitting on a plush red one. The rug had a mandala-like pattern, intricately woven with gold and red thread. It was one of the few Kath’laka items that Mato had in his belongings. “So, uh, what do I do on the rotation path?”

  “You’ll be spending several weeks learning and doing multiple roles,” Mato explained, folding and stacking his paw-like hands on top of each other on his lap. “Even if some people feel it is a waste of their time, it isn’t a waste to the people teaching the role, so please keep that in mind.”

  Xenith chuckled, embarrassed. “I won’t start complaining of how bored I am if I’m in life support. And it is important—I know!” he blurted at Mato using a thumb to crack some of his knuckles. “Just, ah…” he paused. “What if I don’t think I’m a good fit for any of the roles?” He looked down.

  Mato nodded in contemplation. “That won’t be a problem for you, I don’t think, but if I’m wrong, then there is nothing to be worried about. Since there isn’t any pressure to stay in a role, most new Krians who aren’t sure of what to do after rotation pick one role or even two they liked or were good at, and they are free to switch professions anytime. Occasionally, we’ll have a new role created if the Krian is exceptionally skilled at something and it is necessary.”
/>   “Like what?” Xenith leaned in.

  “I read about one case of a Rovanian who felt air pulses or bursts of air pressure, yet she did not work in Life Support; rather, she worked with Life Support, and routinely went around testing the air. She spent a lot of time in the Med Clinic as well and could 'feel' a person’s lungs or oxygen in the bloodstream. She even had time in the kitchen, measuring air pressure and the heat required to cook things to perfection.” Mato closed his eyes, smiling and nodding. “While it perhaps sounds odd, she made a great impact on the station in her own way.”

  Xenith nodded with Mato, feeling a little better. “That is a little reassuring. Maybe a kind of jack-of-all-trades?”

  Mato turned his head to the side, thinking for a moment then nodding. “One could call it that; her role title was ‘Kelandru’, which in Rovanian translates to ‘one who helps everyone’.”

  “I haven’t heard of that before,” Xenith said, frowning as he recalled all the roles he had heard of growing up on Aorírdal.

  “Kelandru is a role that functions with most if not all departments in Aorírdal; teaching, caretaking, administration, security, engineering, and medical.” Mato stretched his back as he explained. “While a great many people have an ability that allows them to work and perform well with maybe two or even three areas, it is rare for someone to do well in all of them. Besides having the ability, they have to have great discipline and organization to pull it off successfully, and the stress can be immense. We haven’t had one in….hm, I believe almost six centuries now.”

  Xenith’s eyebrows went up. Six centuries ago, humans had barely created the first bases on Mars and Europa. “It’s been that long?”

  Mato smiled. “Well, to the younger species, yes.”

  Xenith rolled his eyes. The 'younger species’, used by the GA and the Ascendancy, described the species that joined within the last five millennia, which included the Geb, the Krshk, the Levan, and Humans. The Geb technically counted; they had joined the GA for two centuries before they destroyed their space faring technology and shuttered themselves to everything. No one knew why, but as the Verakas Virus had been running rampant, most people believed the Geb had done it in self-defense. Regardless, it was unusual for four species to join in five thousand years, let alone ten thousand. “If only I would live long enough to see humanity be rid of that name…”