by Marc Mulero
“What?” she prodded, after realizing she’d been a bit brash.
“Well… live maps get screwed up here, it’s a great avenue to exercise Reach, it’s tampered with, uninviting… I would think this might be a safe haven for Skrols. A hideout, maybe. If you think about it, Bo only let us see what he wanted us to see, shifting the greenery of the jungle at his will to form predefined paths.”
The Dagos siblings exchanged curious looks and then pressed on.
“You’re nuts.” She poked his forehead. “You think way too much.”
“Ha, nice pun. Get it, Way - my family’s last name - that I think of him too much. No? Okay.”
“Wha- I didn’t mean- oh whatever.”
“Lighten up, will you? What’s your deal? Missing those hot Elesion meals right about now?”
Dee shrank away bashfully. “I am a Swul, you know, we need our energy.”
“I would think a sense of adventure would be more alluring to your kind, oh spoiled princess.”
“Pshhh.”
Moods continued to wax and wane between them, while the two sages remained mostly stoic, except for the times when Dee would trip, or when Eres dropped the miniature grapes he was about to eat in a pile of Sur dung. But one thing was for sure - although the mystery of Dundo-Ba was endless, the danger had dissipated with their guides between them. Dee was right, they did emit auras, and were able to communicate in a different plane.
Eventually, the shider appeared above them. Between gigantic leaves and overgrown stumps loomed the multifaceted, multicolored, trinket hanging ship that was Alga, and a familiar voice could be heard somewhere up ahead.
Comically slapping fat leaves out of his way, Ilfrid poked through the green curtains, muttering curses to himself along the way. He noticed them, but continued uttering annoyed nothings to himself until he got close enough.
“I see you two are as talkative as usual,” he said to Ofel and Efan. “Yes, yes, I’m sure it’s great to see you too,” he mocked. “Now, if you don’t mind, we must be going.” He grabbed on to Eres’ arm like a father scolding a son, and dragged him toward Alga.
The two Dagos stepped next to one another and stared blankly at the odd man grumbling to himself.
Ilfrid whirled around with a finger held high in the air. “Always need to play your games, right? Don’t matter what’s at stake, hmm? Timing doesn’t mean anything down here, does it?” he spat, then when he didn’t receive any response, nodded dramatically. “Oh, I see your point. Yes, very good, I didn’t think of it that way.”
Efan laughed silently at the display.
“Look, just ‘cause you’re damn gorgeous doesn’t mean you can play ‘round with my objectives too. My ass is going to be handed to me on a Skrol platter soon, thanks to you.”
Ohndee and Eres slowly turned with perplexed expressions, listening to what seemed to be a madman talking aggressively to himself.
“Oh, fine. You’re right… I’m sorry little lady. We don’t see each other enough to be fighting like this-”
From what everyone could gather, Efan hadn’t said anything back at all. She just stared with round eyes and glistened with her soft, vibrant skin. She was alluring, with perfect measurements for Dagos standards – tall, reaching just under Ilfrid’s chin, and half of his width, decorated with earthy jewelry around her wrists and neck, and dark green veins lightly protruding from her arms. He was intoxicated, and she always knew it.
She sighed, either in response to him or to make him go away, no one really knew.
“Here, from the great beyond.” Ilfrid beamed and flung a badly wrapped package at her. He then took a step into her personal space, and to everyone’s surprise, she offered a cheek for him to kiss.
He did so gracefully, then comically fixed his hair and said, “Until next time, Jungle Queen.”
With everyone at a loss, Ohndee decided to step in next.
“Thank you both for being kind to me while Eres completed his trials. I won’t forget either of you.” As she bowed, a warm sensation covered her heart, like a Reach-filled invisible blanket had hugged her. Was this what Ilfrid felt? Signs of response through feeling? It was nice… and when she rose again, she found the siblings smiling and bowing their heads back.
Eres waved from afar and before anyone knew it, the three travelers, plus a clumsy owin, were in the cockpit and the shider was firing to take off.
“Alright, buddy. Listen and listen good,” Ilfrid spoke while staring out of the wide windowed panel.
“Are you talking to me or him?” Eres looked down at the owin in his lap, whose eyes bulged in confusion.
“You! Look, I know I was calm before–”
Eres and Ohndee looked sideways at one another.
“But! There is a grave situation in which none of the others within the Alliance could touch. We need a boundless, new, untracked, non-Skrol, who’s thought to be safely tucked away in the most lethargic place in the spheres. Can you think of anyone else?”
“Ilfrid… I’m supposed to be on my way to the Verglas Sphere.”
“Nuh uh,” Dee remarked. “Bo said when the Silent War lulls.”
“Aha!” Ilfrid raised a finger, his back still to them. “I’m glad you didn’t go alone, Eres, you little embellisher, you. Mind you… there are no lulls today. We will venture to a place where there is no hiding, no trees, obuls, or anything of the sort… just stretches of barren ground.”
“Sounds like a set up to me.” Eres shrugged. “Well, on with it.”
“We go to the Scarred Lands. You’ll wear a Carrier’s mask.”
Just the mention of Windel’s aspiring profession made Eres’ stomach drop.
“So no one questions your identity and no one sees those marks.”
Dee perked up. “I’m coming with.”
“You certainly are not.” Ilfrid finally spun in his swivel pilot’s chair to face them. “One Carrier’s mask is all I got, and besides, the Alliance knows nothing about you. If I sent you in place of Eres and you failed...oof… I don’t want to be the reason a fifty-thousand-year-old secret gets discovered, eh?”
Dee folded her arms and looked away offendedly.
Ilfrid then turned to Eres. “You know of these lands? From Kor, I hope?”
Eres nodded, “And books.”
“Of course.”
“It’s the thousand-mile straight path to Imperion headquarters, intentionally struck barren so all threats within one hundred miles could be eliminated easily.”
“Yes, yes.” Ilfrid pointed at him excitedly. “Good. Well, you will be five hundred miles out, tracking a particular package siphoning through the underground pipes that the Alliance believes may be something valuable. No one knows what for sure, but the tip must be followed, and knowledge must be gained, eh?”
“That’s it? I’m not intercepting it or something crazy?”
“No! We do not mess with Imperion matters, as they do not interfere with ours. Do you want to expand the Silent War or something? Aye.”
Ilfrid pressed a few buttons, cranked a lever, and jumped out of his seat to find the box he had prepared while waiting for them to finish with the Judicator. Then he stood in front of Eres, his shadow causing the owin to shake in the Dawn’s lap, and when he plopped the box down where it would’ve crushed the poor little creature, it fled for its life to Dee.
“’Ey!” Eres twitched from the brashness.
“Helmet, which includes temp lenses to monitor underground packages. Dom, which is used to alter the course of a package within the underground piping system. Not for novices! Which is why… yours is just for show, so you can blend in. And last but not least, some tuned-up flenos boots.” Ilfrid leaned in so close that Eres could smell hints of his last meal. “They skate fast, so I hope you ain’t afraid of speed.”
“Pfft,” was all Eres said. “I trained in the greatest Kor in the sphere.”
Dee’s face scrunched in protest. “For a year!”
“You’r
e such a shit.” Eres tried to turn to Dee, but Ilfrid grabbed him by the chin and swung his body back.
“Terrorist attacks are commonplace in the Scarred Lands, so keep that blade handy, eh? I lost Agden too soon… don’t need to lose you, too.”
Eres pushed him back, got up, and moved quickly away. “I’ll be fine.”
Ilfrid just gazed at him with sorrow, sucking his teeth and wondering if he’d struck a chord. He heard a hard sniffle, but before anyone could attempt to comfort Eres, he spoke up.
“What about my Glite armor? It’s forest green… don’t Carrier’s usually wear black?”
“Darker colors, yes.” Ilfrid nodded his head, recognizing that Eres was just changing the subject. “You should be fine, though. At least you won’t be mistaken for those terrorists who usually try to blend in with the beige ground.”
“Got it.” Eres stuffed on the visor to test it out. “Whoa.”
“Let me try!” Ohndee propped herself over the headrest of her seat excitedly.
Eres looked to his feet, noticing pipes and wiring of all different colors within the shider like he was now suddenly able to see right through to the skeleton of anything.
“And Carriers are trained to know what everything means – colors, width, length, material… they’re experts.”
“What a crazy, confusing world.” Eres lifted the temp lenses off of his face, blinked hard to get the X-Ray images out of his sight, and handed the contraption to Dee.
“Listen, Eres,” Ilfrid said while Dee was preoccupied, murmuring amazement to herself, “I can’t land her anywhere in the Scarred Lands, and there aren’t any Obuls to slow your fall either. I’ll fly low and fast so you can impeller down, but I won’t be able to pick you up. When you’re done, successful or not, you skate west to the mountains. Hear me? I’ll be waiting there.”
Before Eres could respond, Ilfrid raised a finger for him to hold off. “The pipe pathway is ‘SetaSensix’ – small thin sucker. Once you find it, follow the track and the Carriers assigned to it. Those lenses can identify the payload… so once you have eyes, don’t lose it. You need to get within ten gars for those things to register exactly what it is. Aye?”
Eres wanted to speak, but the seriousness in Ilfrid’s voice caused him to hold back and nod in acknowledgement instead.
Both heads turned when Ohndee lifted the helmet in amazement.
“I want one!” she squealed. “So cool.”
“Play your cards right and one day you might get one,” Ilfrid teased. He gave Eres a grave look before plopping back down into the pilot’s seat. “Okay, buckle up all. I’m breaking the sound barrier so we’re not seen by any radar. Well, let’s pray we’re not seen anyway.” He laughed nervously. “Eres! Once I slow, it will be for one sif, and at that time we’ll run to the drop spot and eject you out. Aye?”
“Dela.” Eres strapped in.
The shider abruptly slowed, causing all four passengers to be dragged forward and then back for a hard hit on their cushioned seats. Ilfrid flung off his strap and hopped out of his chair, whirling his finger for Eres to get moving. But he lingered, stuck on the sight in front of him: the endless bald lands – beige, cracked, and filled with natural sediment. Past that, far off in the horizon rested a tower known as the Imperion Chambers. It was a place that Eres had experienced more than once in Proctor Ren’s class, where the world’s trials were debated and voted upon.
He wondered, when did they vote on the prescribed treatment of Dawns? Why Elesion? How antiquated was this decision and how closed off could they be if they thought every single one of the barrens would just accept such a fate?
“Eres! Now!” Ilfrid called, and he was suddenly snapped out of his thought and at the pilot’s heel.
Ohndee followed too to see him off.
When they all gathered around a circular hatch, with gravitas beads keeping them stable and upright, Eres suited up. Ilfrid kept a hand on his shoulder, and Ohndee hugged herself in what seemed to be a state of worry – the moment shared was intense and solemn all at once.
“Won’t they all be communicating with one another?” Eres asked.
“Nah, some Carriers are governmental, sanctioned by the Factions, and others are from private companies. Not to worry, you’ll be lost in translation. Now go – they’re skating fast, and we can’t risk them seeing Alga.”
Eres nodded and turned to Ohndee.
Her cheeks flushed pink. “I’m worried, considering you would have eaten straight poison had I not been with you in Dundo-Ba.” They grinned at one another. “I’ll be here when you get back.” She kissed his cheek and pushed a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “Godspeed, Eres Way.”
Eres took a breath and stood in the tube that was about to open for him, impeller tightly held in both hands.
Ilfrid caressed a lever before gripping it fully and said, “Remember Eres, SetaSensix. ID the payload, and then head west. The live map will lead the way.”
When the lever was dropped, the gravitas beads spun away from him like debris in a tornado. And then Eres fell into the wind, syphoning air up his nose to the point where it was difficult to breathe. Eyes immediately dried up under his temp lenses, arms became stiff from fear of losing the lifeline in his hand, and the ground at his feet was zooming closer.
His heart raced harder than it did in the face of a Sur or in the entrapment of a Judicator. This was a different sort of adrenaline – the type that came with impeller-hopping beside his father, into the storms of Ombes. He’d done this before. And with resurging confidence, his impeller whirled to slow his fall. One click, then another. A thousand feet in between, then another. He wouldn’t need bursts of wind on the ground because he had Vasa’s training and new boots instead, to fit in, to glide through the Scarred Lands alongside trained Carriers.
Puffs of air were visible every time he circumvented gravity’s pull to crush him until finally he landed with a somersault back onto his feet, stuffed the impeller away and swapped it with the superficial kettle-bell-looking Dom. Now he looked the part.
Although he was about one hundred times less confident with flenos boots than any of his other gadgets, he began to skate, one kick at a time, sparks fountaining at his feet as he gained more speed, legs wobbling as he hopped over cracks to keep from tripping. He was thankful for his coordination in a time like this – it allowed him to adapt quickly, to even enjoy the ride.
The scene looked like a fluorescent raceway with packages, large and small, whizzing by to make their way to the Imperion Chamber. He assumed all of which had already been validated or verified in some way by the Carriers behind him.
He thought to himself while surveying the land about how it was “intentionally struck barren,” which had to mean there was no Reach. Terrorists were forced to use technology, which was music to Eres’ ears since he’d been failing at the ancient Umboro practice since he was a kid. One less thing to worry about.
A few minutes of getting used to the terrain and this new way of travel already gained him some confidence. He was taking strides like a professional ice-skater rounding a racetrack, smile plastered on his face. The thrill was akin to zooming down a ski-slope. It sent tingles through his body, all while a lone voice in his head told him “You got this,” and “This is great! Why don’t you always do this?” and “I may have picked the wrong profession.”
At that moment, he nearly toppled over upon sight of forty swaying arms and alternating orange spurts of light looming on the horizon. Doms were to the ground, guiding parcels through the pipes beneath land like magnets between a layer of rock. Equipped with Glite and varying weaponry – spears, swords, daggers at the hips, the like – and specialized netting equipment folded upon their backs gave them the look and feel of a mobile Ranger, or even a Scout. But they were in a class all their own – guiding package after package in coordinated fashion proved it.
Eres, realizing they were gaining on him, gathered his wits and did the best he could to emulate t
hem, even though there was no way he could gracefully cross and flow like they could.
As he fell in line, he almost immediately lagged behind, finding himself having to concentrate hard just to keep up. His eyes darted enviously ahead of him to sleek moves where they dipped so hard sideways that shoulders nearly grazed ground. They zagged beside and wove in between cracks like they didn’t even exist, where the motions and terrain were intuitive to them – a fluidity that made him feel inadequate, like the first day of Kor all over again. Everything was a blur of color to him, whereas they could probably read in between the lines. He knew that feeling, like a Practical student trying to understand Academia for the first time… he focused hard to bypass useless awe, to try and see what they did. All he could gather, though, was some strange game of keep-away as they navigated clear routes for their assigned packages. He could feel certain groups communicating by the way they anticipated each other’s movements – evoking a pang of jealousy from how exciting it looked to execute.
It didn’t take long however, to realize that this wasn’t, in fact, a game. These teams were exposed to danger on a daily basis. This was no man’s land, the distance between the most secure place in the sphere and the rest of the world. This was the wild west, a terrorist’s playground.
“SetaSenSix,” he said to himself. “Focus and be gone. The Alliance is counting on me.”
Head down, he started to dart toward the intricate network at his feet. BitaFonTwo, he cycled through, dashing and hopping cracks. CortaBanEight, a spin almost awarded him a collision with a private sector Carrier, but thankfully she was quick on her feet. Eres imagined a look of disgust when the faceless visor lingered in his direction as she skated away. DiscVanOne, so many lines…
Two thin Carriers crossed ahead of him, leaving flickers of light to kick up into his face, making him feel like they were toying with a runt. But he let it go and kept on his search. UltaFenOne. SetaOxTwo. He still couldn’t find it. Every which way, he felt lost.
