by J. N. Chaney
“Wait.” Awen squinted and stood up. “You’re saying that the Novia created this whole thing, but they can’t use it?” She shook her head. The logic seemed counterintuitive: attain the height of existential reason but prevent yourself from using one of the universe’s greatest achievements. “They actually knew that once they entered their own singularity, this thing would be useless to them?”
“Quite so,” the bot said. “They tell me that it was their hedge against being co-opted for malicious purposes.”
“I don’t follow.”
“A pure existence, such as theirs, has limitless potential. As such, should anyone attempt to gain access to them remotely, the infiltrators would not be able to co-opt this system without being physically present. Additionally, ensuring that only sentient species versed in the Unity—such as you, Awen—have access to the QTG adds yet another layer of protection. They have operated under the assumption that those who value the Unity also value life.”
“That’s probably true…” Awen’s thoughts drifted toward So-Elku. “For the most part, anyway.”
“There is one more facet to their argument, however. Since their existence does not rely upon conventional transportation to move from one place to another, the need for a physical presence to activate the QTG means they have relegated themselves to this space-time.”
“So… you’re saying that they’ve intentionally limited themselves to this universe.”
“No, I am saying they have protected the universe from the worst possibility of themselves.” TO-96 regarded Awen quizzically. “You do understand that every sentient species has the capacity for evil, Awen.”
She gave a long sigh. “Don’t I know.”
“The Novia are no exception.”
“Should we be concerned about them now?” Sootriman asked. “The Novia, I mean. They’re not already all crazy in the head, are they?”
“No. The Novia assure me that their present status is far above any level that would otherwise give the universe pause for concern.”
“Does anyone else trust a self-diagnosing AI?” Sootriman looked around, tapping her fingers. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“I am a self-diagnosing AI, Sootriman.”
Sootriman glanced at Ezo. “And you wonder why our marriage fell apart.”
TO-96 mimicked a human cough. “The QTG is designed to create singularities in space outside of gravity-well interference.”
“In other words, far from planets or stars,” Ezo said.
“Precisely.”
“Which means we still need a starship to get to them.”
“Right again.”
“And that’s the one thing we don’t have,” Awen added.
“But the Novia do,” TO-96 said.
Ezo stood up and stepped toward his bot. “What did you say?”
“The Novia have a starship for you.”
“Are you kidding me right now?” Ezo asked.
“I feel this would be a very inappropriate time to kid with you, sir.”
Ezo turned to the others. “We’re going home!” He grabbed Sootriman’s arms. “Did you hear that? We’re actually going home!”
The three of them hugged. A feeling of immense relief flooded Awen. The months leading to this moment suddenly felt worth it—the interminable wait had been redeemed. She cried. Hope—a feeling she’d lost somewhere among the thickets of despair—had returned.
* * *
TO-96 projected a topographic map of the city at waist level. “The hangar that the Novia wish you to proceed to is located here.” A yellow dot pulsed on the southern shore, bordering an oceanic body of water. “In it, you will find a starship able to transport you back to your universe.”
“You keep talking as if it’s not your universe too,” Ezo said. “You are coming with us, right ’Six?”
“Of course, sir. That is, unless you do not want me to.”
“No, no. I want you to. I just wasn’t sure how all this worked. You know, you being uploaded to an alien singularity and all.”
“Ah, yes, of course. The Novia assure me that due to the nature of the Unity and the fact that I established symbiotic synchronicity while in the metaverse—a term that they quite like, by the way, given that I proposed it as a non-native AI, something that they find rather quaint—”
“Get on with it, ’Six.”
“Yes, given the fact that I established symbiotic synchronicity while here, it seems my body will enjoy constant access to… well, myself here in the Novia’s singularity, no matter my physical coordinates.”
“Fascinating,” Awen whispered. She was still trying to figure out how the Novia were able to bridge quantum universes with the Unity.
Ezo pointed to the yellow dot. “So we make our way down here, and—what? The ship will be warmed up and ready for us?”
“Yeah, and what about supplies?” Sootriman added. “Water, biologically acceptable rations. And are they sure the drive core and life-support systems are still online after all this time?”
“The starship is fully operational,” TO-96 reported. “How and why it has been maintained is beyond the scope of this conversation, I am afraid.”
Ezo nodded. “Got it. It’s a long explanation, and we don’t have time. All I need to know is that she’s safe and she can fly.”
“Both assumptions are correct, sir.”
“Beautiful.”
“What about getting to our universe?” Awen asked. “You alluded to the fact that operating the QTG depended upon me.”
“That is correct, Awen. And we must begin right away if you are to depart successfully. The Novia will walk you through the necessary steps. I will convey them.”
“How soon before that enemy shuttle lands?” Ezo asked.
“Approximately ten minutes, sir. And another three hours on foot before they reach the city’s center.”
“Is that enough time? I mean, for Awen to do all she needs to do?” Ezo asked.
“Quite so. That is, if she is feeling up to it.”
Awen nodded. “I am. Let’s do this.”
* * *
Awen stood on the elevated control platform that overlooked the rest of the theater. The galaxy pictured within the orb turned slowly, a billion stars flickering like tiny diamonds. The idea that she was about to control all this sent a surge of excitement—and trepidation—through her body.
Awen’s fingers trembled as she approached the main console. It occurred to her that opening a quantum tunnel—something that remained theoretical science in her universe—probably had its share of pitfalls too. What if she didn’t do it correctly? What if she sent her crew into oblivion?
As if sensing her apprehension, Sootriman said, “You’ve got this, love.”
“Yeah, try not to screw it up.”
“Shut up, Idris.”
“I’ll try.” Awen looked at TO-96. “What’s first?”
“First, you need to identify where you are in relation to the universe before you.”
“How do I do that?”
“Within the Unity. Operating the QTG requires you to make moves within both states.”
“Okay…”
“I will walk you through it. Not to fear.”
“Thanks, Ninety-Six.”
“My pleasure. First, place your hands on the screen here and here.” TO-96 indicated two black spaces on the right and left sides of the main console. They were outlined in white light and looked like they were designed to accommodate hands about three times the size of hers. The smooth surface felt warm to the touch. No sooner had she made contact than golden light surged beneath her palms and fingers, outlining them both with swirling motes.
Awen looked between her two hands, dazzled by the beauty. Her heartbeat quickened. “Is this supposed to happen?”
“Yes, Awen. You are initiating the system. Now you need to enter the Unity of all things.”
“Okay…” Awen closed her eyes.
“No, plea
se do not close your eyes, they say.”
She looked over at him. “Don’t close my eyes?”
“Correct.”
“But I need—”
“You need to focus. They understand. But this will take much longer if you move within the Unity the way you are used to.”
“How do they know what I’m used to?”
“They have reviewed my memories and processed your methodology. While formidable, they admit, it is not at the level required for operating the QTG. Thus why I noted earlier that your ability to operate this system depends on you.”
“And what if I can’t?”
“Then you are not leaving the metaverse.”
“You can do this, Star Queen.” Ezo rubbed his hands together. “I believe in you.”
“Desperation makes for strange pledges of faith,” Awen said out of the corner of her mouth. “Okay, Ninety-Six. Here goes nothing.”
Awen looked up into the golden orb of sparkling stars and stretched out into the Unity. Her soul reached for the veil that separated the seen and the unseen, fingers trying to ply the fabric. She was not ready, however, for just how quickly she would pass through. With a small yelp, Awen felt herself enter the Unity as effortlessly as she would take a step forward.
“Are you all right?” Sootriman asked.
“I’m… I’m fine, actually. Just startled, is all. I’ve never done this before.”
The sensation was like breathing underwater without any assistance. No mouthpiece or air tank—just pure existence in a realm that she shouldn’t exist within, at least not without some sort of provisions. In the Unity like this, with her eyes open and corporeal body fully engaged, Awen felt as if she existed in two places at once. That’s because I am existing in two places at once. Whereas before, her body had gone into a sort of hibernation, as all Luma were first taught to do, now she truly occupied a dual-state existence.
Awen’s memories flooded with recollections of seeing the greater elders do this before. When Willowood fought So-Elku, for instance, they’d both operated in the Unity with their eyes open. It was a skill learned only by the most proficient. Yet here she was, doing it. Was she truly capable of such a feat herself? No, not yet. I’m no Willowood. There had to be a better explanation for her sudden ability to obtain this level of control—perhaps something about the Novia’s system made such a dual-state existence easier to obtain.
“The Novia say they see you.”
“Yes, I’m in.” She inhaled and let out a long, slow breath. “This… this is truly incredible.”
Awen found herself in the orb’s center. What she assumed was happening was that her second sight hovered within the system’s projection of the Novia’s galaxy. But that was incorrect. This was no projection. She didn’t know how it could be—the concept overwhelmed her. But her presence within the Unity floated up there—according to her body’s natural eyes—in the middle of the galaxy.
“You guys,” Awen said. “This orb. This isn’t a projection. It’s… it’s real.”
“Yeah, looks real to me, Star Queen.”
“No, I mean, you think it’s a projection of the galaxy. But it’s not.” She felt a tear slide down her cheek. “You’re looking at the actual galaxy. I don’t know how they did this. I don’t. But it’s… it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“The Novia say they will save the explanation for another day.” TO-96 looked from Awen to the orb. “Now, you must locate yourself. I am instructed to inform you that you are not to find yourself within the orb but, rather, within the galaxy itself.”
“I’m not sure I can do this, Ninety-Six. This is pretty overwhelming.”
“The Novia seem to think you can, Awen.”
“We do too,” Sootriman said. “We’re right here. You’ve got this.”
Awen let out another deep breath. She was already swimming in water far too deep for her. She felt like someone else was supposed to do this—someone older and with more experience. This is their job, not mine. I’m not qualified enough—am I?
But she was qualified enough. At least that was what Willowood had told her. From the day they had met, the old sage assured Awen that she’d made the right decision to join the Luma and that she was gifted, no matter what her parents or her tribe had said. Willowood had let her know that she’d made the right decision to accept the elders’ promotion of her to Jujari emissary, despite those who dissented.
“You have what it takes, Awen,” Willowood said. “This is your place. You belong.”
Awen knew what was in her heart. She knew that if she didn’t leave her people to help the galaxy, she would not be true to herself. And she refused to live her life as she’d seen other people live theirs: as shadows of their true selves, content with only one half of the story told. Awen would tell her whole life’s story. She would find everything there was for her to live and then experience it to its fullest until her last breath faded into the void and vanished like vapor.
The void. The galaxy was filled with so much of it. What an ironic concept, she thought, that the galaxy would be filled with nothing. It was overwhelming, just how much nothing there truly was in the galaxy and in the universe—in all the universes. Which meant that, comparatively, the amount of something was relatively small.
That’s it! Instead of being overtaken by the scope of the galaxy—the void that sought to swallow a soul—she would focus on the known, on that which defied the void. She’d concentrate on that which violently opposed it, asserting itself to be seen, heard, and felt.
Awen’s father had been wrong. She wouldn’t only find the void. The void merely revealed what was worth finding. The void framed life, and life—despite all odds—had defied the void to achieve existence.
Awen’s senses surged, her heart pumping in her chest with renewed vigor. Despite the void’s suffocating magnitude that was incalculable to the frail human mind, she stood against it. Her mere small self was high on a ridge overlooking a vast ocean. The waves crashed below, and wind whipped at her hair, threatening to cast her into the churning surf. But she opposed the pull, resisting the forces that fought to send her to her death. The fact that she was still alive after so much—the events on Oorajee, her meeting with So-Elku, her escape from Kane—meant she was defiance. She was the aftermath.
All at once, she saw herself standing out in the middle of the void—defiant, strong, a beacon for passing ships, a reprieve for the suffering soul. She’d chosen the Luma and chosen to leave her people, who were themselves safe and secure, so that she might offer others safe passage in the night. She was not content to remain in the providence of privilege, untouchable. Instead, she’d placed herself in harm’s way within the void.
“I see myself,” Awen said at last. “There.”
Her natural eyes watched as the lights within the orb began to surge, stretching out in long lines. Her second sight summoned her first sight, drawing it faster and faster like a Panaline falcon folding its wings and diving down a blood trail.
Star systems whooshed by, passing the audience on all sides. Sootriman gave out a yell as she shook a fist in the air. Ezo, too, hollered something indistinguishable but gripped a railing to keep his balance.
“It’s working!” Sootriman exclaimed. “Whatever you’re doing is working!”
The star systems tapered off, passing more slowly until only one remained. Just one. And then one planet remained. And on the planet, one person stood alone. She’d stood against the void, and she’d won. At least for that day. Ultimately, aren’t we all subject to the void? Who is free of its embrace? There was no safety in the end, just self-delusion in the present. Being truly awake was reserved for those who dared to observe the universe with their eyes wide open. And she dared. Oh, how she dared.
“I see you,” she said to herself, her two presences meeting as one on Ithnor Ithelia.
19
When Magnus came to, he thought he’d awakened within an oven trapped inside a thund
erstorm. He blinked sweat out of his eyes and grabbed his head. Pain lanced through his brain and down his spine as his palm touched a sticky spot on his temple. He pulled his hand away and stared at the fresh blood.
A second hole, punched less than half a meter from the one that had killed the last gunner, let in a shaft of sunlight. Magnus had been lucky—too lucky for his comfort. He looked through the opening and saw that Abimbola had landed the skiff.
“No, no, no!” Magnus yelled. “Take us back up!”
“You are still alive?” Abimbola asked over comms, his disbelief causing the micro-speaker in Magnus’s ear to clip.
“Do I sound like I’m dead? What the hell happened?”
“Second LRGR,” Simone chimed in.
“Overwatch, you had one job,” Magnus scolded.
“On the contrary, you tasked me with several jobs, Marine. Plus, I got the first sniper. You never said anything about a second.”
“For all the mystics,” Magnus muttered. He pounded a fist on the turret wall. “Get us back up there, Bimby.”
“Do not call me that.”
“Too late. It stuck. I just survived an LRGR round, so I get to call you whatever I damn well please.”
“It does not matter. We are still sitting this one out, Maggie.”
“Maggie?”
“I am not tempting the gods three times. I called in some reinforcements.”
Magnus popped open the top hatch, and fresh wind bore down against his face. It felt wonderful. Three skiffs jockeyed for position in the air above him, drawing all the blaster fire from the compound. With a sudden torrent of light and sound, their gunners opened up on the guard-tower bases. Magnus thought for sure they’d overshoot.
“Splick! Make sure they—”
“They are not going to hit the compound, buckethead! Relax.”
Magnus took several deep breaths then lifted himself out of the turret, choosing the quicker exit over climbing back through the cargo bay. He climbed down a metal ladder and slid the rest of the way to the pavement. “Rix, where you at?”
“Here, Marine-Boss,” the infantryman said, running toward Magnus with his fire team, followed by Dutch, Haney, Gilder, and Nolan.
