by Z. M. Wilmot
~Derek Jonson of Jorland on Ulkind, in a speech criticizing the Home Rule’s latest censorship policy
The next morning, after eating, Michaela, Mikhail, and I went out to go get water from the pool. The instant we stepped out of the gap in the trees, it started raining again. We hurried back to our camp, roused Adam and Stephen, collected all of our empty bowls and cups, and caught enough water to fill them all. Then the three of us left, to continue our search for… well, anything.
Not surprisingly, we found nothing. We returned back to camp to find that Fineas was mostly himself again. He knew who we all were, though he still was not particularly talkative.
Michaela was by far the best at getting information out of him, and after five or so minutes, she managed to learn how he had survived. He had, apparently, shortly after encountering me, simply walked out of the door and down another hallway, and exited the ship through one of the lesser-known exits. He claimed to have sensed that something terrible was going to happen to the ship, and hadn’t wanted to be caught in it. After the explosion, he had wandered back, saw his destroyed vessel, and ran off again towards the plains in desolation and despair.
He had no memory of any storm, or of what had happened as he wandered. Michaela eventually gave up trying to get anything more out of him, and Adam and Stephen set off to search for food and water.
Mikhail took a knife out from one of his pockets, as well as a block of wood, and began to whittle something. Michaela, sitting by Fineas, who had closed his eyes, watched him intently. I found myself doing the same. His left hand was completely steady, unmoving, while his right was a blur, as he used it, and the knife it held, to cut away the wood. A shape began to form as the shavings fell to the ground at his feet.
He looked up, glancing at both Michaela and me. I looked down and blushed. Michaela’s eyes didn’t move. “What is that?”
Mikhail shrugged. “A Gyxoriant.”
I blinked. “A what?”
He looked at me. “A Gyxoriant. It’s a… mythical being from the legends of my people.”
Michaela stood up and walked over to where Mikhail was sitting, and sat beside him. “Who are your people? All that your file said about you was that you were from Pallas.”
Mikhail returned to his whittling. My eyes were drawn to the movements of his hands, even as my ears listened to his words. “I may have been born on Pallas, but that is not where I come from. Our Clan was just passing through the area when my mother had me – it was sheer luck that even had me born on a planet at all.”
Michaela frowned. “But your file says…”
Mikhail waved the hand holding the knife. “Nevermind what the file says. The Home Rule never kept close tabs on us, anyhow. They like to pretend we don’t exist – they don’t like the idea of any authority outside their own.”
I didn’t know what he was talking about – the Terran Home Rule was the only authority in the universe, as much as the Edenite fanatics or the rebels on New Dominica disliked it. Except for any alien ones that might be out there… I remembered what Psy had said offhandedly about “Juxtani civilization.” There was another authority out there, just no other human ones. The thought of intelligent aliens shocked me. I hoped they weren’t all like Psy – and I hoped that whatever that black silhouette had done to him had gotten rid of him for good.
Michaela cocked her head. “Are you… a…”
“Tyrrhish nomad? Yes.” Mikahil stopped whittling. In his left hand was a coiled worm of some kind, with the head of some kind of vicious beetle. He sheathed his knife and held his creation above his head. He looked at it carefully, then drew his knife again, and cut off a thin sliver of wood before putting the knife away again. “I’m surprised you’ve heard of us – we rarely touch down on planets, and interact as little as possible with other humans. Usually only spacers know of us, and the best that downsiders hear are exaggerated rumours from the spacers… if anything.”
“One of my father’s best friends was a runaway Tyrrh,” said Michaela. “That’s how I know of your existence – he was the one who transformed my father into a radical politician, with his railing about the injustices done to his people. Of course, nobody had ever heard of the Tyrrh, so he didn’t get anywhere.”
“That’s how it works,” Mikhail said softly. He examined his carving. After a moment of silence, he spoke again.
“Gyxoriants are supposed to be good luck charms – part space-serpent, part beetle. They ride the Ethyrian wakes of ships, and ward off anything – or anyone – that would try to harm you.” He smiled. “I would have to tend the Gyxoriant altars every day on my Clan’s ship – it was my special duty.”
I was very confused, and I finally said as much. “What’s a Tyrrhish nomad?”
Mikhail chuckled and put the Gyxoriant carving on his knee. “When humanity first began to venture beyond the moon and Sol’s star system, back when Ethan Darievos invented the Ethyrdrive engine, our race was involved in a heated civil war. The policymakers all dwelt on planets, only travelling between them when was absolutely necessary. They had no real experience with the realities of life in space, and many of their laws harmed those who lived off of any planet. As such, many spacers became unhappy with the “Terran Confederacy,” as the Home Rule called itself then.
“These disgruntled spacers eventually rebelled against the Confederacy, and gained surprising support. War erupted between the Spacer’s Union and the Terran Confederacy. The Union had the advantage of higher ground and more abundant resources, while the Confederacy only had wealth and capital, which couldn’t really be used for anything. Space travel and most interplanetary communications were shut down, effectively crushing the Confederacy.
“The Union began to bomb the major urban centers of the planets from orbit, and the Confederacy made one last gamble for victory. Ethan Darievos sided with those who funded his research – the Confederacy. They used Darievos’ technology to create the most powerful weapon known to man – the Ethyrbomb.”
“The Ethyrbomb?” I had never heard of it.
Mikhail nodded. “Aye. The Ethyrbomb. It was only used once, and never again, as the destruction it wreaked was too terrible even for the Confederacy. The Union was almost completely destroyed. Those few survivors, mostly those on the fringes of the system, fled into deep space, to the blackness between the stars, away from the Confederacy.
“Eventually, the Confederacy renamed itself, becoming the Terran Home Rule, and began to utilize the Ethyrdrive engine to travel to other star systems. By the time the technology had been applied to the ships and those ships sent to explore, however, the escaped Union ships had already arrived at many of the worlds that these ships “discovered.” When the Home Rule arrived, any sign of human habitation on those planets was destroyed, and the Union inhabitants were forced to flee, again retreating to the places between the stars. They had their own Ethyr technology – not quite as effective or elegant, but still functional. But the old Union men and women began to tire of being killed whenever they set foot on a planet, and resigned themselves to forever dwelling in space. They began to wander between the planets and stars, only rarely setting foot downside.” Mikhail smiled. “My mother wasn’t supposed to be downside when I was born – she was sneaking off with my father to explore. My grandmother was not happy with her.” Michaela and I laughed.
“Anyway, the Union people gradually became known as the Tyrrhish nomads, named after our greatest ruler, Lord Tyrrh. The Home Rule erased most of our history from their records – you will find no evidence of the civil war, nor of our being forced off of the planets that were rightfully ours. We exist now merely as a group of people sharing a culture and a religion, both of which are very different from what you downsiders have.”
“So how did you end up on this mission if you’re a Tyrrh?”
Mikhail looked at Michaela. “My ship was destroyed by a rogue asteroid – our sentry fell asleep at his post. Only three of us made it from the ship alive.”
He smiled sadly. “It’s terrible luck to take in a survivor of an accident like that – no one would have us. We were forced to blend in with downsider society. I returned to Pallas, and got work there as a spacer for the Home Rule.”
Neither Michaela nor I spoke for a long while after his story was done. Mikhail closed his eyes and leaned back, humming a tune softly to himself.
Michaela yawned and followed Mikhail’s example, lying down on the ground. “I think I’m going to take a nap. Can you two keep watch?”
“Yup,” I said. “Go ahead.”
“Thanks,” murmured Michaela. She was snoring moments later. Looking over at Mikhail, I noticed that he had stopped whistling, and seemed to be asleep as well. I was the only one awake.
I stood up and stretched. As I was stretching my left arm, facing away from the entrance, I heard the sound of running footsteps behind me. I whirled around, ready for anything, only to see Stephen and Adam running towards us, with another figure following closely behind. Michaela, Mikhail, and Fineas all woke up at the sound of Stephen’s shouting.
“We found him! He’s alive!”
Running behind Adam and Stephen was Vincent.
