Aspiria Rising

by Douglas Barton

Corpses of runners and severed limbs were strewn everywhere.

  The Armbands of the Ministry instinctively dropped their batons at the sight of the guns of death.

  Dominy created more mayhem, conjuring images he’d seen on the Icy Planet. He lined up runners in a long row and sent in a firing squad, one rifleman for each runner. The militiamen fired one at a time from north to south, dropping the runners to the ground in a sick wave of death. Blood flowed from the crumpled heaps like a river pulsing across the game field.

  Pandor screamed at his Ministry. “You idiots! The guns aren’t real!” He kicked through the image of a severed leg. “Resume your protocol!”

  A ragtag group of students appeared on the sideline. “Now! This is our opportunity.” It was Vernan, captaining his own mini-militia, an unarmed group of native-born Firsts. They leapt onto the game field.

  Philiam was backing up his captain. “We got ’em, Vee!”

  Vernan led the charge. “Go! Scoop up their batons, they’re confused.”

  Nalton hobbled in on his crutch and stripped off his robe. He filled it with the fighting sticks, slung the bulging robe over his frail shoulder and shuffled toward the front edge of the stadium.

  Many of the uninjured masters joined Vernan’s ragtag team. They ring-fenced the stunned Youth Ministry.

  Vernan pointed at the masters and shouted. “You need to vote!” He nodded at the Cubevision. A zero appeared below both the split-screen profiles of Dominy and Sergian. The masters scrambled for their notepads. The tally for Dominy pulsed higher. “He’s going to win!”

  Dominy looked everywhere for Sergian. There, about thirty meters away. The head of council lunged for Nalton and the batons. Nalton, a skeleton of fish bones, dropped his robe, raised his crutch over his head and whacked Sergian, cracking his skull. Nalton tossed the yellow crutch on Sergian. The victim writhed in pain. His luck had run out.

  Dominy spotted Genna. He ran to her with outstretched arms. She had a swollen eye and a purple bruise on her cheek. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “Pandor had me and then the oddest thing—he stops, turns and heads toward the north exit.”

  Dominy looked up at the Cubevision. The split screen was gone. His profile flashed alone. “Let’s go. I think he’s headed for the Transport Center, going to P23 and the Commonwealth. We’ve got to catch him before he reaches the Pow.”

  They ran out of the building and into the quadrangle. The Pow was deserted. “We’re too late.”

  Genna pulled out her notepad. “Let’s jump on, I’ve got an idea.” They boarded the Pow. Genna typed away on her notepad. “I’m hacking the system, trying to disable the Pow before Pandor gets there.”

  “Huh?”

  “Maybe with all your walking experience, you can catch him.”

  Hurry! “I don’t think there’s enough time, can you disable the ST-2.”

  She shook her head. “Already tried. The Commonwealth must control it.”

  The Pow screeched to a halt, Dominy jumped off, took a deep breath and touched his toes with his fingers. Pandor had a long head start.

  Dominy ran and ran—west, over the cushioned surface of the quadrangle, past the little Debate arena, toward the Transport Center. He willed himself to go faster. His body cried out in pain. He spotted a red dot in the distance, Pandor, stalking closer to his target, the ST-2. Left foot, right foot, left, right, left, right, push, push. Hundred meters. Faster! Booster engines rumbled. Fifty meters. “Pandor! It’s over. Sergian’s defeated.”

  Pandor turned and quick-stepped it toward the launch pad. Dominy sprinted after him, but Pandor’s lead seemed insurmountable. He pumped his arms faster. Twenty-five meters. With his elbows flapping and knees driving, he imagined the ancients cheering for him to sprint faster. Ten, five meters. Pandor spun around. Dominy, exhausted, halted to within a meter of his foe.

  Pandor looked down at Dominy and cackled. “What’re you going to do, tangle with me in Debate?” He resumed his march.

  Tangle with Pandor? Which subject should he choose? “Hey!”

  Pandor turned.

  Dominy, you must control your emotions.

  No, Mother.

  Dominy dove at Pandor, driving his solid chest into the big, soft belly of his nemesis. Pandor’s feet kicked forward and his large head snapped back, thumping the ramp of the launch pad.

  “It’s over.” Dominy stood.

  Pandor lay unconscious.

  “Decidedly.”

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Dominy stepped down into the basement. Empty? Even the wobbly table was gone. He fought back tears as memories washed over him. How invincible they thought they were back then. On top of Aspiria. Where is everyone? He turned and reached to tap the SEARCH FOR THE TRUTH sign, but the message was changed:

  Meeting in Sanctuary

  Open to All

  In small script, someone had added: (Hurry up, Dominy!)

  He smiled, turned to take a final look and left the basement for good.

  The two moons above the setting sun’s filtered light completed a smile in the sky. He crossed the quadrangle on the Pow and headed for the Sanctuary. Passing Guardian Park, he spotted the Alliance members standing at the base of the Everlen statue. Dominy hopped off the Pow and joined them.

  They all meandered around Genna’s masterpiece. Dominy rubbed the lettering on the marble pamphlet. He pulled out the original, written long ago, and read snippets of Everlen’s introduction. “‘At some point, Aspiria will experience a leveling off in test-score growth rates, at that time changes must be instituted. Both my competitor in the Grand Debate, Windlar, and I agree on this critical point. Part of my solution entails the selection of students from other worlds—students who have significant differences—thereby amplifying the variation effect and fostering creativity, solutions to problems, and finally growth’.”

  Genna laughed and spread out her hands. “The outsider program, you can’t get much more variation than us.”

  Dominy smiled and continued reading: “‘My proposal is in direct contradiction to Windlar’s. He recommends a series of enlightenment reforms that will readjust the mindset of Aspirians.” Dominy skimmed the rest and looked up. “At the end of the intro, there’s a footnote: ‘Windlar’s student, Sergian, researched a similar phenomenon in the Games of the Academics during the time of Lucean and her reforms’.”

  “What happens to Sergian?” Cal pounded his square fist into his palm. “I’d like to squash him between the sledge of the Alliance and the anvil of Aspirian justice.”

  “A tribunal will decide, but I predict he’ll soon disappear from Aspiria. It’s not a sin to not know the truth—it’s a sin to not search for the truth. I suspect some of Sergian’s supporters, those misled, will be given another chance here. And as far as Windlar, we’ve had no communication with him or the Commonwealth, but I’m not worried.” Dominy grabbed the outstretched marble hand of his grandfather. “We’ll use the only weapon we have…”

  “Our brains.” Genna squeezed Dominy’s other hand. “A little overconfident?”

  “We can all improve. Me especially. In all kinds of subjects.” He kissed her hand. “I’m also working on my own pamphlet. While the Meritocracy stands above all else, Aspiria requires some changes: greater safeguards of leadership power, ending the Decimation, an openness to familial relations and—”

  “Speaking of families.” Cal pulled out a tattered book from his pocket. The Alliance members formed a circle around Dominy. Cal tossed Lives of our Guardians to Nalton who tossed it to Vernan.

  The logbook made it around the circle to Genna. “We all know your secret.” She laughed and tapped his head with the book. “You haven’t mastered the art of deception, we’ve known for quite some time.”

  Dominy shook his head. Lights flashed in the distance. He smiled. “Hey, the Midway’s lit up again!”

  Nalton raised his new red crutch high in the air. “Let’s lightout!”

  Dominy entered t
he open door of Talia’s cottage. He called out, but there was no response. He walked around back and spotted her working in Garin’s garden. She hovered over four miniature rows of flowers, each rank and file lined up with what could only be described as a mathematician’s precision. “Perennials, right?”

  Talia stood, dirt clumped to her fingers. “Would you’ve predicted anything else?” She pulled a rose cutting from a box and sniffed it. “They smell like him.” She handed it to Dominy. “Go ahead, you do the honors. The miniatures were his favorite.”

  “Once…” Dominy bent over, scooped out a handful of the black soil, and planted the tiny bud. “Once, there was a student desperate to find the answer to living a long life. He asked all the famous Aspirian researchers for their help. One day, his master asked him what he’d learned. And the student said, excitedly, that he had learned everything about the biological processes of aging. And the master said, ‘Oh, I thought you wanted to find the answer to living a long life’.”

  Talia tapped her fingertips to her temple then to her heart. “Thank you.” She ascended to him. “Guardian.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know about that. I have to make a confession about my own transgression first.” Anyway, he had so much more to learn. The truth might know no age, but wisdom surely did. They turned toward hushed voices. Such a strange sight—students and masters were strolling through the garden and smiling. “What about you, Talia? You don’t have to leave now.”

  She nodded. “But don’t be saddened.”

  “But based on principle, you don’t have to leave.”

  “I have a special research project. I’m leaving to find Garin. The probabilities are against me, but I must try.”

  “But he’s on P23 with the Commonwealth.”

  She sighed. “The Commonwealth must’ve sent him away. He’s on P25 now. Garin left me a message and a tracking device. He became suspicious when Rohan asked him about specific research problems that had easy solutions. My analysis is that P25 was willing to trade high value for someone able to explain basic science and start a research program.”

  “There’s nothing that’ll keep you here?”

  She shook her head.

  “Talia, on your mission to P9, well, did you see any glimmers of hope for the planet?”

  She cried and hugged him.

  Dominy stayed in her embrace for quite some time.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Dominy breathed in the rarefied air and, despite the lack of oxygen, every nerve in his body vibrated with life. He clutched Genna’s hand and scanned Aspiria from atop Starry Mountain. The sun had set hours before and the academy was lit only by the stars. He couldn’t remember ever having seen the night sky brighter. The twinkling blanket appeared close enough to touch. He closed his eyes.

  She tapped his shoulder. “You were in some kind of a trance.”

  “Oh, sorry, I was trying to visualize the future.”

  “Aspiria’s future?”

  “I don’t worry about that. I mean, I think we’ll be okay.” He smiled. “No, something else.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Well, what did you see?”

  “How much time do you have?”

  She stared into his eyes. “A lifetime.”

  “Perfect. Because it’ll take a lifetime for me to describe all the truth, goodness and beauty I’m seeing.” He wrapped his arm around her waist. “You’re the closest I’ll ever get to the Divinity.”

  He lay on his back and patted a grassy spot for her to join him. As they stared into the night sky, Genna stretched out her arm as if grasping for a star. “Do you imagine other academies like Aspiria out there?”

  “Yes, out there, somewhere.”

  She rolled over on her side and pointed above the horizon. “Which one’s your favorite?”

  He squinted at the moons. “You know the answer.”

  They smiled at each other. “The one shining brightest,” they said together.

  A CLOSING NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  Thank you for reading Aspiria Rising. I hope you enjoyed it.

  I have a small favor to ask. Could you take a moment and write a short review of my novel on Amazon or your favorite online retailer? Reviews help authors get their books in the hands of more readers. In addition, I read all my reviews and benefit from any feedback—positive or negative—about my writing.

  I also look forward to connecting with you and welcome any comments or questions at bartonlit@gmail.com. Again, thank you!

  Douglas Barton lives in Northern California where he writes science fiction to escape the mundane business world and express his vision of story worlds. He’s married and has two half-human half-aliens (teenage boys).