Ethan admired his surroundings once more while looking for his wife. Clouds raced by underfoot; a stiff breeze blew; the rising sun shone big and red on the horizon. Despite the appearance that they were all somehow floating above the clouds, the ground under Ethan’s feet still felt solid—invisible, but solid.
It was all an illusion. The wind wasn’t strong enough to correspond to the speed with which they were moving, and the air was far too warm for the altitude. They were traveling in some type of starship. The deck and bulkheads were cloaked with holographic projections of what lay outside. Simple enough to do, but still awe-inspiring to look at. The white gauze of clouds parted briefly underfoot, and Ethan stole a glimpse of the shining city far below. His stomach did a loop-the-loop, and he looked up quickly.
“Who is it you’d like me to meet, dear?” his mother asked.
“Alara!” he called, unintentionally answering his mother’s question. His green eyes searched the crowds for her face. He cupped his hands to his mouth and tried again. “Alara!”
“I’m over here!”
He whirled around to see her walking up behind his mother. A young man and woman followed her.
Ethan’s brow furrowed. “Who are they?” he asked as Alara drew near.
She shook her head. Her face was ashen, her violet eyes shimmering with tears. Yet the grave expression on her face was broken by a faint smile.
“Hello there, grub,” the young man behind Alara said.
Ethan turned to glare at him. Grub. The insult burned in his brain, making him see red. He didn’t even know this man. Was it stamped on his forehead?
Poverty—the birthmark he could never seem to erase.
Alara forestalled the reciprocal insults poised to leap from the tip of his tongue by placing a hand on his arm. He turned to her and saw that her lower lip was trembling.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“They’re my parents, Ethan.”
“Your . . .” Turning back to the pair of strangers standing before him, he shook his head. “That’s impossible! We saw them just a few weeks ago at our wedding! They can’t have died since—”
“You didn’t tell me you got married!” Ethan’s mother interjected.
He turned to her with a strained smile. There was a look of mock outrage on her face. “You weren’t there to tell,” he explained. He skipped the part about Alara being his second wife.
“It’s been two months since then, Ethan,” Alara whispered, still talking about her parents. “The Sythians have been in Dark Space almost that entire time.”
“Sythians? Dreadful creatures . . .” Ethan’s mother said.
Ethan nodded along with that. He and Alara had spent an uneasy month on their honeymoon watching on the news nets as the Sythians invaded all over again. This time, instead of killing everyone, they had begun making slaves of them to replace their previous army of slave soldiers—the Gors. Alara’s parents must have died resisting the occupation.
The young couple standing with his wife looked vaguely familiar now that Ethan knew what to look for. The young man was just as tall and skinny as old Kurlin Vastra had been, and he wore the same sneering smile that Ethan had come to expect from his father-in-law. The young woman was an even closer fit for Alara’s mother with her rare violet eyes and flowing dark hair, both the same color as Alara’s own. He absorbed the doubly-shocking news that his in-laws had died only to be resurrected on Avilon. A numb feeling of unreality set in. Maybe I’m asleep? He hadn’t decided yet if this was a dream or a nightmare.
“I’m . . . sorry to hear that you died?” Ethan tried. He wasn’t sure what sort of response was called for. His wife was obviously distraught, but his in-laws, the very ones whom she was upset about, were alive and smiling from ear to ear.
“Don’t be,” Kurlin replied. “We weren’t bound to live much longer anyway. Now, thanks to Omnius, none of us will ever have to worry about dying again.”
“Yea, so it would seem,” Ethan replied, nodding slowly.
“This must be the special lady,” Ethan’s mother said, ignoring them and turning to Alara. “Come here girl,” she said, reaching out to enfold her daughter-in-law in a hug.
Alara fell into her mother-in-law’s embrace. Her violet eyes still brimmed with tears, and now a few of them spilled to her cheeks. A genuine smile grew between the trickling tears. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Ortane,” Alara said as she withdrew from the hug.
“It’s just Miss, actually. Ethan’s father and I divorced before he was born. My name’s Lara, but you can just call me Mom—if that would be all right with you, Darla?” she asked, craning her neck to catch Mrs. Vastra’s eye.
“Of course.”
Ethan looked on with a frown, feeling like he was missing something important—perhaps a few somethings that were important.
“You two have already been introduced?” Alara asked, connecting a few of the missing pieces for Ethan.
“Not formally, no,” Lara explained, “but everyone on Avilon knows each other—at least by name.”
“That’s a lot of names to remember . . .” Atton put in.
“It does seem that way, doesn’t it? But don’t worry, you won’t have to remember them, not really. You’ll find out what I mean soon enough.”
“I can’t wait,” Alara said. “I’m sorry to hear that your marriage didn’t work . . . Mom.” The endearment sounded awkward to Ethan’s ears, but he supposed that was to be expected given that Alara’s real mother was standing just behind her. “Where is Ethan’s father? I’d like to meet him, too.”
Lara’s smile faltered, and she looked away. “Oh, I’m afraid he couldn’t make it.”
That set off an alarm bell in Ethan’s head. “What do you mean he couldn’t make it?” Ethan and his father had never been very close, but he’d seen the old man on more than one occasion whilst growing up, and as an adult they’d even smuggled a few shipments of stims together before Ethan had been caught and sentenced to Dark Space for his crimes. Preston Ortane wasn’t an easy man to get along with, but Ethan was sure that his father wouldn’t miss something like this.
“It’s not that he didn’t want to come, dear. It’s just that . . .”
“Just that what?”
“Well, it’s not really my place to say.”
“Not your place to say! What the frek?”
“Ethan, dear, calm down. That language has no place here.”
“So now I’m being censored?”
“No, just calm down please. I understand this must all come as quite a surprise, but I’d like to think that it’s a good surprise. I haven’t seen you in so long. . . .”
“Well, where is he?”
“Who?”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed sharply. “Dad.”
“Why don’t we rather talk about your wonderful bride? It will be night soon, and we’ll all have to go to . . . sleep.”
“Night? The sun is still rising! And even if it weren’t, why can’t we just stay up and talk? I’m not tired. I’ll make you some caf. Unless you don’t have caf in Avilon . . .”
“On Avilon, dear. It’s a planet, not a star system. Yes, of course we have all kinds of stimulating beverages, but I’m afraid the night here falls with or without the sun and we are not permitted to stay up.”
“With or without the sun? That doesn’t make any sense!”
“Omnius will explain everything to you soon,” his mother soothed, rubbing his arm.
“Well someone better!” Ethan turned to Atton. “You believe this krak?”
“Dad.”
“What?”
Atton nodded his head sideways, indicating his grandmother. “Language.”
Ethan noticed that his mother looked distraught—or fearful. He couldn’t decide which. But despite the fact that she’d mysteriously come back from the grave, Ethan didn’t care. He wasn’t even sure that young woman really was his mother.
He was about to swear again just to e
mphasize his freedom to do so when Alara took his hand, squeezing it just tightly enough to convey a warning. Somehow the cool touch of her hand was enough to cool his head. She was right. Now wasn’t the time to start poking holes in the clouds they were standing on. For better or worse, they’d found Avilon, and they wouldn’t be leaving any time soon. For now at least, they were at the mercy of its people and its ruler, and they needed to tread lightly until they learned what that meant.
The thunderous voice rumbled around them once more. “Now that you’ve all had a chance to be reunited, the time has come for you to say goodbye. Those of you who have not yet decided to join the Ascendancy will be taken to temporary quarters where you will tour the three cities of Avilon to help you decide where you want to live. Welcome, my children! Welcome home!”
At that, the crowds began cheering once more, “Omnius grando est! Omnius grando est!”
Ethan remained silent and traded a glance with his wife. As soon as the cheering stopped, he saw a pair of shining portals open in the sky, one to either side of the rising sun. He placed a hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the glare. He tried to see what lay beyond those portals, but the light was too bright.
The thunder spoke once more: “Walk toward the light.”
Everyone began shuffling toward the open portals. Ethan followed warily. Alara held tightly to his arm. His mother and Atton walked up on the other side of him. Speaking to his mother, Ethan said, “What’s this about three cities?” Omnius had already explained the structure of Avilon, but Ethan wanted to hear about it from his mother.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. That’s what The Choosing is for. I’m sure you won’t make the wrong choice.”
“Yea? What’s the wrong choice?”
Ethan’s mother just smiled, as if the answer should have been obvious. “The Netherworld, of course. We call it the Null Zone. Don’t worry, almost no one chooses to live down there.”
“But Dad did, didn’t he?”
Her smile faltered, and she looked away quickly. “We can’t feel sorry about other people’s choices if they get exactly what they wanted.”
Before Ethan could ask any further questions, the crowd stopped moving and he bumped straight into his father-in-law.
Kurlin turned to him with eyebrows raised. “Careful, grub.”
Ethan ignored him and stood on tip toes to see what was going on up ahead. It looked like the pair of shining portals he’d seen were doors. Blinding light shone from each, and a pair of Peacekeepers in their glowing blue-white armor flanked the openings. A fifth Peacekeeper, this one wearing a shimmering blue cape, stepped up to the front of the crowd and turned to address them. His breastplate bore a glowing blue spiral, the shape of a galaxy with glittering white points of light meant to be stars. Surrounding that spiral was the letter “A” while in the center of it lay what looked like an eye.
As Ethan looked on, a white-robed man stepped up beside the Peacekeeper. The robed man’s face had a familiar hardness, and the piercing gray eyes were hard to miss. The last time Ethan had seen him had been via the news nets, just before the Sythians had executed him for all of Dark Space to see. Now he looked much younger, but still easily recognizable. He was Admiral Hoff Heston, leader of the Imperial Remnant.
The admiral called out in a strangely echoing voice, “I hope to see you all in Etheria soon. Rest assured that while you are choosing how to live on Avilon, I will be helping Omnius and his Strategians to plan a rescue for everyone we left behind in Dark Space. If you didn’t find all of your loved ones here, take heart! Soon they will join us, too.”
More cheering erupted from the crowd. As soon as the noise died down, the blue-caped Peacekeeper standing with Hoff addressed them in heavily accented Imperial Versal: “Mortals to the left, Ascendants to the right. Move quickly please.”
The crowd began to separate, and Ethan felt someone tap him on the shoulder. It was his mother.
She flashed him a wan smile and then gave him one last hug. “We’ll see each other soon. If not during The Choosing, then after. I love you, son! Whatever you decide, be sure it’s what you want. You can always change your mind, but if you die in the Null Zone, there’s no going back. Choose wisely,” she said, withdrawing to an arm’s length and squeezing his hands one last time.
Ethan wasn’t sure what to say to that. He turned to watch her give Alara a hug next.
“It was wonderful to meet you, dear.”
“Thank you, Lara—I mean Mom. It was nice to meet you, too. I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance.”
Lara Ortane accepted that with a nod. “Make sure my son doesn’t do anything stupid. The Null Zone is no place to raise a child.”
That comment stuck in Ethan’s brain, setting off another alarm. “Hold on—I didn’t mention that Alara was pregnant.” She was only three months, and barely showing.
Lara hesitated just a moment before smiling anew. “You didn’t have to mention it. A mother knows these things. Look at her—she’s practically glowing.” Lara turned and gave Atton a hug, saying goodbye to him, too. Then she walked over to a growing crowd of white-robed people. They smiled and waved to their loved ones, calling out their last goodbyes and I-love-you’s. Ethan stood frozen in place, watching everything with a growing sense of unease.
“Come on, Ethan,” Alara said, tugging on his arm to guide him over to the other refugees.
Once the crowd was fully separated, both groups began walking single-file through their respective doors under the watchful eyes of the Peacekeepers.
“I wonder if there have been other refugees to arrive here, or if we’re the first?” Atton asked.
“I don’t know.” Ethan shook his head as they shuffled toward their door. They reached it in short order. There weren’t many survivors from the battle over Avilon.
Alara hesitated in front of the blinding brightness that shone from the open door. “What’s in there?” she asked, directing her question to one of the Peacekeepers.
Ethan saw the outline of a passageway, but his eyes wouldn’t stand to look into the light for long.
“Do not be afraid,” the Peacekeeper replied. “Your destiny awaits.”
“That was vague,” Ethan said, but the Peacekeeper gave no further explanation.
Atton turned to them. “If Omnius wanted to harm us, he would have done it by now. Come on,” he said, stepping across the threshold and disappearing from sight.
Atton didn’t shout out a warning or scream in alarm on the other side of the door. That was something, Ethan supposed. He turned to Alara with his eyebrows raised. “Ready?”
She tightened her grip on his hand to a bone-grinding force, but she nodded. And with that, they walked into the light.
Chapter 2
4 Hours Earlier . . .
Commander Lenon Donali’s heart thudded in his chest as his escape pod plummeted toward the apparent surface of Avilon. The city was on fire, with thick columns of black smoke rising into the night. Here and there green cultivated gardens peeked out through the smoke and flames. Blue rivers of energy—some kind of shield—separated the raging infernos at the bases of the buildings, keeping the fires from burning out of control.
A surface-penetrating scan with the pod’s sensors revealed that a full kilometer of city lay below the shield. Crashing starships had opened dark, gaping holes in that shield. Donali guided his escape pod down to the nearest one. It was wreathed in fire from a burning park.
Donali needed somewhere to lie low until he could find a way to be of use to his Sythian masters. They were losing the battle for Avilon, but the war was far from over. The crew of the Intrepid had suspected Donali was a traitor. They’d put him in stasis to keep him out of trouble, but he’d been awoken in the Intrepid’s final moments as the cruiser’s power failed. He’d made it to the nearest escape pod, but only just.
As Donali drew near to the hole in the shield, he saw flaming trees rushing up fast, their scraggly branches clawing fo
r his pod. Smoke swirled. Flames roared all around.
Then he was through, racing down an artificial chasm formed by kilometers-high skyscrapers. A mesmerizing swirl of colored lights streaked by the pod’s bubble-shaped cockpit. Walkways, tunnels, and elevated streets crossed from one side of the chasm to the other, glittering in the dark like strands of silk spun by a deranged spider.
Collision warnings screamed as he flew between two parallel bridges. He fired the pod’s braking thrusters and grav lifts to slow his descent, keeping a light hand on the stick to avoid colliding with anything. A river of lights flowed below him, rushing up fast. His brain registered those moving lights as air traffic. He pulled up, skating dangerously close to the nearest building, and then swiftly fell toward the next set of elevated streets and bridges.
By now he’d slowed his descent enough to take in the finer details of his surroundings. A grav train whooshed down a glowing track. Pedestrians turned and pointed up at Donali’s pod as it fell. Bright, animated signs hung above the different stores on the street level. The buildings themselves shone with colorful rows of light, pouring from windows that were too reflective to see through.
The pod dropped below that street level and raced toward another stream of air traffic. The layers of the city seemed to go on forever. Air cars flowed like luminous rivers between levels of elevated streets, trains, and bridges. After passing no less than four levels of traffic and streets, another shining blue shield appeared at the bottom of the chasm. Donali marveled at that. What could be below it? Surely not another kilometer of city.
Pedestrians stopped to point at him once more as he fell past the final level of streets. There was a war raging high above these people’s heads, and his escape pod was the novelty worth pointing to. Donali snorted with amusement.
He flew down to the shining blue shield. Like the first one, it was divided into hexagonal sections. He hovered to a stop just a few dozen meters from it, trying to see what might lie beyond. His artificial eye was far keener than his real one, and he was able to see yet more of the same—streets and shining rivers of traffic. Donali let out a long whistle and shook his head, awed by the scale of urban development.
Dark Space: Avilon Page 2
