The Deplosion Saga

by Paul Anlee

  After a minute there was still no sign they were underway. He asked the Angel, “Why aren’t we moving?”

  Darak peered down at the monk. “We began moving the instant the door was closed. We’re accelerating at a rate high enough to turn your body into mush. I’m compensating.” He looked upward.

  Stralasi followed his gaze but saw nothing.

  “The pilot of this ship can handle the acceleration, as can I, but I’m a little surprised they made no allowance for you. That is uncharacteristic. Perhaps they assumed I would ensure no harm came to you.” He returned his gaze to Stralasi. “Or perhaps they didn’t care if it did.”

  The Brother considered Darak’s beautiful, frightful, angelic smile. Was the Angel joking or serious? Stralasi couldn’t tell. He shivered, drew his arms around himself, and plunked himself down on a tiny piece of ground, facing away from the Angel. The monk withdrew into silence, contemplating a small stone in front of his feet on the little piece of Gargus 718.5 that traveled wherever they went. Minutes passed, but the Good Brother did not stir.

  A whoosh of air and bright light filled the chamber, breaking Stralasi’s meditation. He stood and straightened his clothes.

  The hatch door opened into a well-lit corridor lined with white panels. A ramp extended up into the transport ship, right to their tiny piece of ground. At the bottom of the ramp, stood a woman.

  Stralasi would have said she was not yet past the first third of her life. She had a tentative smile on her lips and a meter-wide Securitor hovering over her right shoulder.

  “Shall we?” Darak motioned Stralasi forward as he dropped their protective shield. Immediately, the Brother’s nose was assaulted by a complex mix of odors, cleaning chemicals to be sure, and an unmistakable odor of fertile land.

  Darak made his way down the ramp, with Stralasi tagging behind.

  The woman lowered her head, took an awkward step back with one foot, and bowed deeply.

  Darak smiled at the genuflection and uttered something incomprehensible to Stralasi.

  “What did you say?” the monk whispered.

  Darak turned to the monk and lifted a hand with the index finger raised. Stralasi felt a mild tingling in his head.

  “I said, there’s no need for such a formal greeting to one who had abandoned the Esu so long ago,” the Angel repeated. As he spoke the woman rose.

  “He does not speak our language,” she stated.

  “He did not speak our language,” Darak corrected. “He does now.”

  “True marvels do travel with you, as it is told,” said the woman.

  “What do you mean?” asked Stralasi, talking over her. “I understand you perfectly.” Only when he thought about it did he realize the woman had been speaking a language other than Standard. Yet, now, he understood both tongues equally well and found he could reply easily in whichever he chose.

  “A slight adjustment to your lattice in the language centers to permit you to understand the local dialect,” he explained. “My apologies for not doing it earlier, while you were brooding.”

  “I was not brooding,” objected Stralasi. “I was…meditating.”

  A raised eyebrow formed in Darak’s mercurial liquid mirror.

  “You travel with a companion?” observed the woman. “The ancient texts make no mention of this.”

  Stralasi pointed to the sphere hovering behind her. “You travel with a Securitor. Are you afraid of us?”

  The woman appeared momentarily confused. She looked to Darak for explanation.

  “Ahh, yes. I suppose they do have a similar form, but her companion is as much Cybrid as Securitor,” the Angel corrected. “It’s her guardian, manipulator, mentation aid, and much more. And she is not traveling with it any more than you are traveling with your arm.”

  It was Stralasi’s turn to not understand.

  Darak explained, “Since I left them, the Esu have discovered the mutual benefits of a human-Cybrid symbiosis.” He waved his hand to encompass both beings. “You are looking at one person, biological and electromechanical, a single entity with split consciousness.”

  “My name is Crissea,” the woman said. She indicated the floating mechanism. “We call this part of us, our Familiar.”

  Stralasi did not recognize that use of the word. Crissea gave a shallow bow from the waist, and her Familiar bobbed a few centimeters at the same time. “Welcome to Eso-La.”

  Darak returned the bow, something Stralasi would never have imagined. Other than Alum himself, who was an Angel obligated to honor? He hurriedly joined in the gesture of respect.

  The Angel returned to full stature and pronounced in a formal, ritualistic voice, “I am Darak Legsu, Broken Shard of Alum. I am Gabriel, Fallen Commander of the Virgo Central Wing. I am Fal sek Troal, Betrayer of the Aelu. I am the Da’ark Triad, Brother, Traitor, and Savior.”

  3

  As Darak proclaimed his multiple identities, Stralasi’s eyes grew wider and wider. The Angel hadn’t mentioned these titles to him. No wonder. They didn’t sound like anything to be proud of, at least what he could understand of them: Fallen Commander, the Da’ark Triad, Traitor.

  The Good Brother wasn’t familiar with any of the figures. He had an odd feeling, an inkling, that perhaps the Realm possessed a whole parallel, unofficial history, one unsanctioned by Alum and quite different from the one he had been taught.

  Crissea gave a satisfied smile and a nod. “It is as foretold by the ancients.” Her gaze fell on the Good Brother. “Almost.”

  “This is Ontro nem Stralasi, a Brother of the Alumit and my traveling companion.”

  Crissea’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the Church of Alum.

  “He is on…educational leave,” explained Darak, “without approval of his superiors. However, I’m sure the Good Brother is finding our travels to be quite a valuable learning experience.” He smiled at the understatement.

  Crissea laughed softly, at the sound of Stralasi muttering under his breath.

  “Brother Stralasi,” she said with a small dip of her head. “It would be my pleasure to introduce you to the many marvels of our world, a world outside the official ‘sanction’ of the Alumit, I’m afraid.”

  Stralasi bobbed his head. “Since traveling with Darak these past few months, I’ve learned of many things that would not be officially sanctioned by the Alumit.”

  “We have little time for touring, I’m afraid,” Darak interjected. “I have something important to ask of your people. Would it be possible to call a meeting of the World Authorities?”

  “They are gathering as we speak,” the young woman replied. “Eso-La is large, and we eschew the instantaneous starstep transportation technology of the Realm. A few hours of tube travel will be required of our most distant Coordina members.”

  She indicated for the Angel and Good Brother to follow. “We can share some refreshments while we wait for the last few representatives to arrive.”

  They walked a short distance to the end of the corridor, where a section of the floor lifted them through a few hundred meters of hollowed out rock to arrive at the innermost habitable surface of the ringworld.

  The platform emerged into the light of a clear, sunny day. Stralasi felt giddy as he whirled about, taking in the paradise-like garden. He’d expected to arrive in some grand building, like a Global Alumita or even a planetary tube station, where the governing Council would meet them in majestic chambers. But this! This was so much better.

  All around, grew well-tended trees, shrubs, grasses and flowers. The delicate trill of birds merged with babbling water close by. There was no sign of a building anywhere unless one counted the vine-laden trellises and arbors off to one side. He could hear the soft sounds of people talking and laughing, off in that direction.

  “Where will we meet the Council? Is there transportation to the city nearby?” he asked.

  “This is the nearest Amphi of the Coordina,” Crissea responded. “We will meet over there.” She pointed in the direction o
f the arbors and set off in that direction.

  The Brother turned a confused face to the Angel, who patiently answered him with more questions.

  “Why meet under cover from the elements if you control them? Or if the weather is of no consequence to your comfort?” He motioned for Stralasi to walk beside him into the clearing ahead.

  They left the lightly treed area and entered a plaza filled with a small crowd of people and their accompanying Familiars.

  Raised planters, large boulders, and fountains enjoyed the shade of flowering trees. It looked randomly but beautifully arranged, as far as Stralasi could determine.

  People sat in small groups on whatever surfaces were convenient. They wore a variety of light robes and short pants suited to a pleasant summer afternoon. Familiars extended manipulators, carrying drinks and small plates of food, toward their human associates.

  The overall effect was more like a garden party than a meeting of the governing authorities of a massive civilization like the ringworld of Eso-la.

  When Stralasi caught a glimpse of Darak’s face, he saw no hint of emotion, save contentment.

  As they entered the plaza, faces turned to watch them. As if one entity, people ceased their conversations and rose to face Darak and the monk. They bowed deeply, Familiars included, and sat down again, resuming their conversations.

  Stralasi wasn’t sure whether he felt more like an esteemed guest of honor or one of those Head Brothers who sometimes showed up uninvited at local parties. Both Darak and Crissea appeared satisfied that all the necessary protocols had been met.

  “Would you like something to eat or drink while we wait?” their hostess asked Darak. “I can’t recall whether Angels enjoy food or juices. Our selection here is excellent.”

  “While I have no need for either, I am capable of enjoying both,” replied the Angel. “And it has been some hours since our last meal. I’m certain Brother Stralasi would like something.”

  At that moment, the soft breeze shifted direction, wafting the delicious odors of warm food their way.

  Stralasi’s mouth watered, and his stomach gurgled embarrassingly.

  Crissea graciously pretended not to notice and guided him toward a buffet where a wide variety of meats, breads, vegetables, and fruits were beautifully displayed.

  Three people and their Familiars artfully arranged Stralasi’s choices on a small plate, and poured him a glass of plum-colored wine. Darak chose some slices of fruit that looked like variants on familiar Standard strains. The trio moved off to some secluded seating near a fountain.

  Stralasi shoved the delightful tidbits into his mouth as fast as he dared, restrained only by his desire not to appear uncivilized before the lovely Crissea. He noticed her delicate sampling of the fruit dishes. She helpfully pointed out which sauces were best paired with which meat dishes.

  The sparkling laughter with which she greeted Stralasi’s appreciative groans over the superb flavors embodied in each morsel only heightened her charm.

  The Good Brothers of the Alumit, being among the most favored of Alum, were generally expected to marry and have children at some time in their lives.

  Stralasi hadn’t intentionally set out to avoid marriage. During his extensive travels in service to Alum, he had met many delightful and eligible women. Each time, he’d move on to the next assignment before working up the courage to overcome his shyness.

  Stralasi surprised himself by thinking about how nice it might be to settle in a place like this with a woman like Crissea. Alas, it was out of his control. There was little he could do but follow Darak wherever his travels took him.

  He was savoring a final spectacular bite from the buffet when a dull roar sounded from one side of the terrace. A vessel landed alongside the vehicles parked near the terraced area.

  Darak and Crissea stood, and Stralasi set down his plate to join them.

  “Perfect timing. This is the last contingent of the Coordina we were expecting,” Crissea said. “We have a quorum now.”

  The ship powered down, a door slid open, and a platform descended. Stralasi stole a look at Darak, and a slightly more surreptitious one at Crissea. They shared the appearance of eager expectation, their full attention fixed on the ramp.

  Stralasi caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked back in time to see the travelers emerge.

  Aelu! His eyes sought somewhere to hide. He reached out a hand to pull Crissea with him. Her face was serene, even joyful. What is this? He opened his lips to tell her to flee.

  Crissea turned to him and her smile grew broader.

  He scanned the faces of those assembled. He saw nothing but open acceptance, as if the aliens were old friends. He looked back at the Aelu. They didn’t appear to be hostile, though he wasn’t sure he could tell. He closed his eyes for a second and reconsidered. Could these be the Coordina members we’re waiting for?

  Stralasi had never seen real Aelu, not in person. Actually, no one he knew had ever seen real, live Aelu. No one besides Alum and some of his inner circle had any first-hand knowledge of that alien race. Yet, the Aelu continued to be cast as the default evil opponent in video entertainments throughout the Realm, which was odd, now that he thought about it.

  Stralasi knew the Aelu—through history lessons, inSense games, and entertainment—to be brilliant, ruthless, and utterly evil. With equal parts trepidation and foreboding, he watched the ten figures gracefully make their way down the ramp. His horror grew with each step of the peculiarly smooth, three-legged gait that held their ellipsoid bodies steady.

  “They’re…They’re…Aelu,” he announced to Crissea and Darak as if they hadn’t seen or realized.

  “At last!” Darak laughed and strode forward to greet the aliens.

  “But how are they here?”

  “Because the Savior, the one you know as Darak, brought them to us and charged us with their welfare,” Crissea answered.

  “He saved Aelu?” Stralasi couldn’t believe it. How could an Angel, even a rebellious one, save any members of such a powerful enemy of the Realm?

  “Yes, he brought as many as he could. Sadly, few made it here alive, barely enough to rebuild the species. It took considerable time and great care.”

  Stralasi saw the guilt in her eyes and was confused. Before he could inquire, she whispered, “Excuse me,” and moved forward to greet the Aelu with Darak.

  The rest of the Coordina pressed closer to watch the historic moment. They jostled for position, transfixed by a sight they’d never dared hope to see.

  Stralasi’s head spun as he watched Darak and Crissea approach the Aelu.

  The Aelu assembled in a diamond-shape formation at the bottom of the ramp and bowed deeply to the group as a whole. They emitted a loud musical tinkle, reminiscent of the harmonic but scattered notes of wind chimes.

  Their tripod legs collapsed at three central joints, and their bodies sank to within a few centimeters of the ground. Their upper manipulators folded into a complex spiral design above their bodies.

  Stralasi’s fear was temporarily overridden by his fascination.

  Darak rose to his full height, extended his right hand, and placed it tenderly on what equated to the shoulder area of the lead Aelu. He bent down and enfolded the being in his shimmering wings.

  The two remained that way for long seconds, and then Darak was gone. In his place stood an opalescent green-blue Aelu that Stralasi recognized from the movies as a Leader type.

  For a second, it—Darak?—was the only Aelu not bowed low, but it soon joined its brothers in a folded crouch and accepted the gentle touches of upper tripod appendages from the others.

  The Angel returned to the form that Stralasi was only now beginning to get used to. When Darak stood, the Aelu stood with it. They surrounded him, gently caressing his arms and wings with their manipulators, and he radiated joy.

  The rest of the Coordina rushed forward to share in the glow of his delight. Everyone got a turn to clasp hands with Darak, brush a
gainst his wings, or receive a hand to their shoulder. A particularly ancient looking man spoke with Darak for well over a minute, after which the Angel gently wrapped him in his wings and the two hugged.

  The Good Brother was moved by this display, though he didn’t understand what it signified. When Crissea returned to his side, he asked for her help.

  “Rudolfo’s great-great-grandfather, Artero, was one of the Original Ten who conspired with Darak Legsu in the Liberation. He visited his esteemed ancestor in Eterna only a few weeks ago, and they relived those days. How gratifying it will feel for him to relay his conversation with the Fallen Commander to the ancient one.”

  Stralasi nodded before it dawned on him. “Wait. This Rebellion happened over twenty million years ago, didn’t it? How could this Rudolfo possibly have visited with anyone alive then?”

  Crissea smiled kindly, in a way that Stralasi found moderately condescending. “Oh, that’s right,” she realized. “The Realm doesn’t have Familiars. Well, Artero Belongia’s biological body died ages ago. His Familiar housed his concepta and persona for a few million years before being uploaded into Eterna. He is still among our most respected Council advisors when we can find something interesting enough to pull him away from his hobbies and adventures.”

  “If he died, his soul is no longer with us and has certainly passed on to the next world,” objected Stralasi. “Clearly, nothing of his soul could remain in this world.”

  Crissea cocked her head in a way that Stralasi found both charming and disconcerting. “What is this ‘soul’ you mention?”

  Darak had returned behind the two without their notice, and jumped in before Stralasi could expound further. “Alum’s people believe that our ideas, memories, and beliefs, all the thoughts that make us individuals, reside in a non-physical essence that is somehow connected to the body. They believe that when one dies, the soul is set free to go on to an eternal existence in a non-physical paradise called Heaven or, in some cases, to bear eternal torture and suffering in a place called Hell. Pursuant to judgment by Alum, of course.”

  Crissea stared first at the Angel, then at Stralasi. Her mouth hung—rather uncharacteristically—wide open.