by Paul Anlee
Weak from the battle and from the effects of using the illegal lattice, Darya made her way back to the dais. I just want to end this spectacle and get out of Lysrandia as soon as possible.
She circled the castle and approached her throne. Instead of triumphant cheers, she was met by loud blasts, widespread panic, and fearful cries. What the…?
The Securitor response had been faster than anticipated—faster than she'd ever seen. A battalion of inworld units smashed through the onyx gates and pushed into the crowd.
Those who couldn't escape the rush of the three-meter wide Securitor spheres were quickly tangle-tagged, frozen in place so they couldn’t flee the square and hide in the surrounding mountains. They’d be trapped here, inworld, at Alum’s mercy.
The game was over in Lysrandia. There would be no more rituals, no more spectacles, no more sermons, and no more recruits.
At least some of our people will be saved by our standing instructions. The acolytes and any others brave enough to join the movement today will have already left through the virtual back door before the battle.
She scanned the dais area and crowd for familiar faces. Those she’d already convinced to join her on the path of Knowledge and Truth had no need to stay and watch the entertainment. If they followed instructions.
Darya flew toward the main emergency exit in the central keep. Trying to preserve what little energy she had left, she landed near the base of the tower and continued on foot.
The streets swarmed with masses of panicked people struggling to escape through the side gates. The Securitors coordinated their attack well, setting guards at the smaller gates in addition to the main exit at the far end of the plaza.
People ran frantically from gate to gate to gate, searching for some unguarded route out. Once they realized the futility of heading for the gates, they dashed deeper into the castle, hoping to find alternative exits or somewhere to hide.
Darya clung to the walls to avoid being carried along by the erratic surges of terrified hordes as they ran past her. As the crowd thinned out, she made her way toward the gardens at the rear of the main keep.
She surveyed the area cautiously. It was heartbreaking to see the ornamental beds of cherished flowers and fruit trees completely destroyed, trampled by people running in all directions. A one-meter deep ring of red-robed figures—inworld soldiers assisting the Securitors—surrounded the keep, barring access to her private exit back to the outworld.
Exhausted, Darya crouched behind a shrub against the corner of the stables and considered her options. She didn’t notice the hand, reaching out from the doorway behind her until it hauled her inside.
5
Darya tucked, rolled and sprung to her feet, exhausted, but with her sword at the ready and prepared to kill or die. Conserve energy. Evaluate. Breathe. Attack.
The mantra saved her from reflexively dispatching the wide-eyed team member who’d yanked her through the doorway.
“Princess,” someone whispered from inside a swirling haze of barn dust.
Darya covered her mouth to keep from choking. Behind her, a hand swung the door closed, sending a fresh updraft of dust into the air. She blinked furiously against the grit, and let her eyes adjust to the low light.
Four worried faces came into focus and, behind them, a half-dozen anxious faces she recognized from today's new recruits.
“What are you doing here?" she hissed to the senior acolytes. "You’re supposed to be gone!”
They fidgeted like guilty children and avoided her gaze. “We’re sorry, Princess. The new recruits wanted to watch the dragon fight. We thought it would be okay just for a few minutes, but when that second dragon arrived, we couldn’t look away. When the Securitors showed up, we got out of there as fast as we could. By the time we got to the keep it was already surrounded.”
“They must have found out about our back door,” Darya said. “Either Securitor intrusive devices have improved significantly, or someone revealed the location.” Darya placed her bet on the latter.
“Can you get us out of the castle?” asked one of the acolytes, “or is there somewhere we can hide until they’re gone?”
Darya’s shoulders slumped; she had no energy left to put on a strong face. “There's nowhere to hide. The Securitors will turn the kingdom upside down until they’re satisfied they’ve caught every transgressor, and then they’ll decommission Lysrandia. Anyone left here inworld will die when they shut down the simulation.”
They kept listening, expecting her to divulge some plan to save them all. When she didn’t, they looked crushed.
I imagine right now everybody’s mulling over whether they’d be better off taking their chances with me, or surrendering and turning informer on the movement—she thought.
“There might be one other way out for some of us. I kept a hidden emergency exit, one I didn’t tell anyone about. It has limitations, though. It can only handle one transfer at a time, and it needs to reset between transfers. With the Securitors monitoring inworld traffic, there’s no way we’ll all get out before they find us.”
She let the acolytes digest this for a minute.
“But some of us will escape,” came a hopeful voice from the back.
“Yes, some of us. We’ll have to see what the situation around the exit is, first. Then we can calculate an optimal approach.”
The disciples exchanged glances, seeking agreement. They nodded consent in unison. Darya hoped she had enough energy left for a final push to freedom.
The exit was situated inside a nondescript maintenance shed near the rear castle wall. The shed housed little more than a mop, a bucket, and a sink. Every day, a couple of the castle servants would wash down nearby stone walks and pathways with the mop and bucket. They had no idea an escape gate to the outworld could be activated through a special combination of actions inside the shed.
Darya led her troupe through the stables and out the back door. The streets were considerably less crowded now. The Securitors had been ruthlessly efficient at tangle-tagging the majority of the crowd. They were now rooting out the more innovative evaders and escorting them to the parking area for processing.
We don’t have much time left! They raced to the outside wall as quietly as they could, and followed it to the shed in the back corner. Mercifully, it had been overlooked by the Securitors. So far.
Darya instructed the group on the escape protocol. “Once inside, you activate the exit gate by moving the spout of the faucet all the way to the left, as far as it will go, and then all the way to the right. Then turn on the hot water, exactly half a turn, and then the cold, also half a turn. Finally, turn off the cold, and then the hot. It has to be in that exact order.
“Can you remember that? That’ll open the gate. A black field will appear over the drain in the floor. Step into it. The gate will disappear, and you’ll be on your way to the outworld. Only one person can use it at a time, and it needs about ten seconds to reset before the next person can go. Count twenty seconds between people going into the shed.”
“How long do we have before the Securitors arrive?”
Darya reviewed the movements of the Securitor forces they had encountered along the way, and estimated how many of the runners were still on the loose. Activating the escape gate would draw the Securitors’ attention.
There'll be a delay between the Securitors detecting the exit gate activation and being able to secure it. By the time orders to secure the shed trickle down the ranks to the closest units we might get maybe two minutes, tops. That would give us a ninety percent chance of completing five or six activations.
Counting herself, they needed eleven activations to get everyone to safety. It wasn’t looking good. She shared the bad news.
Her team members were practical, they excelled at problem-solving, and they weren’t ready to surrender just yet, “Is there some way we can slow down the Securitors? Maybe create a diversion?”
Darya struggled to think of a way to improve their
odds. Her processing center was slowing down, getting sluggish. “No matter what we use to distract them, as soon as we activate that gate, they’ll drop whatever they’re doing and head our way.”
“What if we….” The group threw out a few wild ideas, but nothing stuck.
We’re wasting time. Darya knew what had to be done, but didn’t have the heart to tell them until they’d run out of other options. The time had come.
“If we give up three of us, we can save eight. The three will get tangle-tagged and interrogated by the Securitors, who will assume they hold significant knowledge about the movement. The questioning will be severe and probably end in a complete personality wipe. Three of us will have to fight—to fight and die—to save the rest.”
“Then you need to get out first. We can decide among ourselves who else we can save.”
Darya started to object. She had endangered these people; she needed to protect them for as long as possible. But the rebellion was based on reason and, all noble gestures aside, reason held that there would be no rebellion left without its leader. In the end, reason won.
“Very well. There’s no time to waste. Once I enter the shed, three of you cover the different routes here. Take implements to defend yourselves. Buy us as much time as you can. Those who follow me have to pass through the gate as quickly as possible. I hope my calculations overshot a bit and we can all make it through. I’ll contact you all in the outworld after some time. If I receive no answer, I’ll surmise you didn’t make it out. Know that you have my thanks as well as that of the movement, and I will find a way to notify your friends.”
It was decided; to linger any further would cost lives. Darya left them discussing who would go and who would stay and fight.
She opened the garden shed door, and entered. The small room smelled of damp mop and dirty water as it always did. A single tiny window high on one wall allowed in sufficient light to make out the faucet.
As she had instructed the others, she moved the spout and turned the water on and then off in sequence.
An ill-defined black field appeared noiselessly over the floor drain and she stepped into it, exiting Lysrandia forever.
6
It was a busy day for both Shard and monk. Darak strolled through a good part of Alumston, enjoying the charming ambience and hospitality, casually acquainting himself with the town and its people, and stopping to chat with random individuals at their work or play.
Everywhere he went, people were in a state of awe to see one so holy and so close to Alum. They found themselves captivated by his gentle and humble manner. His questions were genuine and kind, never seeking shortcomings or failings. Each person he spoke with felt, for a short while, like they were the most important person in town, their job was the most crucial, and their problems were the most pressing.
His suggestions on how to improve a process and how to smooth interactions among the People were perceived as inspired. Those fortunate enough to receive advice from him hurried to implement his ideas while it was still fresh in their minds. Love and praise followed him—in Alum’s Name, of course—wherever he went.
Brother Stralasi, too, covered a good part of Alumston that day, running around town like a chicken with its head cut off. The frantic monk fretted and scrambled to make preparations for departure, and to solidify sensible arrangements for coverage of his duties while he was away.
He tried in vain to convince the visiting Shard to perform an Official Blessing or give a sermon in Center Park. Each time, Darak politely demurred. “I’m here to talk, not orate.” Disappointed, the monk went about his business. There was no time to waste.
He appointed an interim Caretaker and did his best, given the few hours they had together, to bring the chosen junior Brother up to speed on the business of the Alumita.
Brother Westlock was nervous but enthusiastic about his new role as interim Head Brother. The novitiate had always been a quick and eager study, and Brother Stralasi felt confident that he'd rise to the challenge.
"It may surprise you to learn that spiritual guidance of the People is actually the easiest part of this position,” the Good Brother divulged. “It can be time-consuming, and at times demanding, but a job well done is rewarding and important. People appreciate it.
“The more challenging part of the assignment is ensuring Adherence. This is equally time consuming but utterly thankless. Indeed, if not conducted delicately, monitoring and ensuring Adherence can raise resentment.
“But you must remain strong; I cannot overemphasize the importance of this. Constant prayer drives the machinery of all the Worlds, and it is critical to demonstrate an adequate expression of the People’s love for Alum in order to continue receiving His Blessing. Continuity of prayers at the power station and at the starstep must be maintained without fail. Our survival depends on it; proceed accordingly.”
Westlock pursed his lips and blurted out his question before he could change his mind. "Brother, I've heard rumors about Founding towns that spent harsh winters in the cold, stranded outside Alum’s Web because of the negligence of an uncooperative starstep. They suffered terribly until Alum finally took pity and returned them to the fold. Are these stories true?"
Stralasi couldn’t bear to think of his beloved flock suffering that way. "Brother Westlock, I could graphically and emphatically describe to you how utterly dependent the physical wellbeing—the very survival—of the Colony is on our disciplined, pious observance. But I will let you imagine for yourself the horrors they will face, should you fail in this duty and Alumston become separated from The Realm."
Westlock's innocent face broadcasted his distress at the thought of such isolation. His mentor watched with a soft heart, anxious to see the result. Would this so far untested novitiate be up to the difficult task ahead?
The younger monk filled his lungs, straightened his back with confidence, and lifted a steady, even gaze to meet Brother Stralasi's own. “You can count on me.”
Seeing the soft, boyish face transformed by firm resolve, the Good Brother relaxed. He was pleased, and tremendously relieved, to see this promising young man he’d hand-selected stepping up to his new responsibilities so intently. Yes, he will do fine.
After having made certain Brother Westlock was fully informed of his required duties, Stralasi turned to his own needs for the upcoming journey to the Home World with Darak.
He packed lightly, adding only a heavy jacket, bamboo fiber leggings, and wool socks to his spare robe in case they encountered harsher climates. He expected the communities through which they were to travel would see to their basic needs for nourishment and toiletries. After all, he was going to be journeying as the companion of a Shard of Alum.
Despite a restless night trying not to obsessively relive the events of the spectacular dinner party earlier that evening, or to anticipate the adventures he would face on the journey, Stralasi woke early, feeling refreshed and eager.
Darak was already up and walking around the gardens, visiting with the birds, insects, and frogs. “Good morning, Brother Stralasi. I hope you rested well,” the Shard said, and he returned a small, fuzzy caterpillar to its branch.
“Yes, surprisingly,” Stralasi replied with an enthusiastic smile.
They headed to Rose’s for breakfast and one more opportunity to meet with the local folk before they departed.
Two hours later, with well-wishers off to their daily work, Stralasi and Darak sat nursing their coffees.
”Will we be leaving by the normal means or would you prefer to…you know…,” Brother Stralasi lowered his voice to a whisper, “…use your secret starstep?”
Darak selected his words carefully. “We shall leave the same way that I arrived.”
“Is your private starstep far to the west?” Stralasi asked. “Will it be a long walk?”
“It will be as far as needed. No more. No less.”
“Do I need to dress for a colder elevation?” Stralasi probed, fishing for details.
“I believe your current attire will suffice.”
Stralasi opened his mouth to try another approach. Before he could utter the first syllable, Darak held up a pre-emptive hand.
“We shall leave,” he said, placing the hand firmly on the Good Brother’s shoulder, “now.” He did not look inclined to entertain further delay or dissent.
Stralasi dutifully suppressed his curiosity. “Yes, my Lord.” The monk turned and made quick apologies to the staff, patrons, and small gathering of well-wishers outside.
Darak set out for the Alumita residences with single-minded purpose. Stralasi hurried to catch up. They paused only long enough for Stralasi to fetch his pack and issue a perfunctory goodbye to Brother Westlock, before they were off again.
The Alumit monk, a fast walker by most people's measure, found himself nearly running to keep up with Darak’s ground-eating strides. He was not afforded a single moment to wallow in regret over having to leave his latest project before its success could be ensured.
The pair marched ten kilometers or more past the original blast field. They waded across a small stream, and put the first ridges of the low foothills behind them before Darak slowed to a more reasonable pace.
“How…” Brother Stralasi gasped, trying to catch his breath. “How much… further…to your starstep,…my Lord?”
Darak took stock of the low hills around him. “This will do.”
Stralasi looked around, seeing nothing special about the chosen spot. Granted, he might not have recognized a well-hidden starstep among the yellow rocks and dull blue-green native plant life, but the exposed landscape didn’t seem capable of hiding anything important.
“Should I begin the prayer now, my Lord?” he asked. The breeze wafting off the mountains carried the odd metallic taste of the native vegetation.
The words of the Entreaty for Connection framed themselves effortlessly in his mind, the result of countless repetitions: Alum, Lord Protector of Yov’s creation, Light of the People, permit us to be joined again with our Brothers and Sisters on their blessed planets around distant stars. When we are lost in the Da’arkness, disconnected from Your People, alone and afraid, we ask that You grant us communion, that You welcome us into the Holy Web of Your Great Realm.
