by Celeste Raye
They despised what they had created for it had proven itself to be unable to forget the one thing the Speakers had hoped would be lost.
Hatred.
Hatred which led to war and greed and all the other things that had destroyed the universe from which the Speakers had come.
The Speakers fled the universe, leaving it in chaos and disarray, choosing to die outside the door that they had created rather than face the awfulness of their creation. They would rather close their eyes and close the door. They re-centered themselves in the emptied world and universe that they had left behind in the hopes of creating something better.
They chose to do that rather than stay in the universe that they made as its civilizations and populations tore itself and themselves apart.
It is said that the Speakers knew then that the only way to redeem themselves after such a horrible mistake was to let the universe that they created die, to let those who would make war, make it. To let those who would suffer from that war, suffer from it, and to never allow that failed universe entry into the universe beyond the door
They also say that the Speakers intent in closing that door was not just to keep their vile creation from spreading into the empty universe beyond but to protect the universes beyond that universe, universes upon universes too vast to be numbered.
The Federation was formed in this time and among the beings that formed the original founding members of the Federation were several beings who believed quite sincerely that the Speakers had indeed existed. That they had foreseen a universe capable of greatness, of great peace, and of equality and justice.
That it had failed, the founding members of the Federation reasoned, was inevitable. All civilizations and births are bloodied and violent. All children must be taught and raised and educated in this way. It seemed that the Speakers had neglected their duties as parents of that universe.
The founding members of the Federation reasoned that if they could forge an alliance, one made of not just trade agreements and necessity, but of real and genuine trust, then they could take hold of their populations. That they could spread the necessity for peace. That all could thrive and prosper. That the power would lie within each and every being upon each and every planet within that universe and that the universe would be peaceful and plentiful.
So the Federation was created. More and more planets fell into line as they saw these powerful founding members, rife with wealth and the ability to broker trade and peace, begin to bring an end to the terrible wars that raged. An advanced technology rose to new heights, heights that only their working together could have created.
Those who were within the Federation found themselves suddenly blessed with not just technology but resources. The Federation had the ability to travel into corners of the universe previously unknown via the wormholes whose locations only the Federation knew. Those wormholes gave Federation allies and members the ability to keep their populations from starving or dying of thirst and the elements. There were materials and other resources in the corners of the universe too, things that would help beat back death and make civilization spread faster.
More and more planets joined. The Federation grew. It spread from a handful of planets to nearly every corner of the universe in less than a half-a-century. But all was not well even with this early alliance. Suddenly the founding members found themselves possessed of massive and mighty armies, many of which had blood grudges against other armies also part of the Federation. The founding members could not keep their own members from fighting each other.
As the power grew. As the wealth grew. As the renown grew, so did the war.
And then came the day when all of the founding members realized that their bodies were old and frail and that death was imminent. That nothing, not technology and not even their intentions, could halt death. It was coming for them, and it was coming soon.
The founding members of the Federation called a special council meeting and began delegating duties and asking for truce treaties and doctrines within its members. But power brings corruption, and many within the Federation’s lower ranks had already tasted what heady power could be had—and they wanted more.
An assassination plot began. Every founding member found themselves in danger, grave danger. The only kind of danger that truly exists.
Knowing that they were dying and that their deaths would come much faster if they did not do something to prevent it, the founding members resolved to remove themselves from the world. Not just the world either, but the universe.
They took themselves to a secret stronghold called Tralam and there they took their own lives. Their bodies remain there to this day, it is said. There are some who, many centuries ago, found the way into that stronghold. What they saw there was fearsome and terrible. None who ever entered came back whole. Most never came back at all.
Tralam is the place where the remains of the founders lie and shall always lie, protected by the thing that first sealed the door: the tech that the Speakers used and that the founding Federation members discovered and then used but only once. To seal their bodies away.
So the founding members, like the Speakers before them, turned their back on the universe that they had wished only peace and enlightenment for. Now they too are gone.”
Blade’s eyes flew open. He turned to Talon. “I know our main objectives and fighting the Federation were never aligned. Mine was to break them and take them all down. Yours was to stop them from opening a wormhole that would lead into another universe, a universe whose beings could kill the entire universe here.”
Talon said, “It’s still our objective. Although we have different objectives, they both need to be played out. But I see your point. That old tale speaks of the wormhole in the universe beyond the Speakers door. I had forgotten about that. Like I said, it’s a tale told only by the oldest, and they are all gone now. I haven’t heard it in centuries, and I had never connected the two things.”
Renall ran his long hands up and down his legs. His face held a reflective look. “Nor had I. I don’t think any of us did. I don’t think I have heard that tale since I was maybe twenty summers old, and that was nearly four centuries before. If there is any truth to that, if the Federation truly can open that door, we may be letting ourselves in for more than just war from the other side.”
Blade said, “That doesn’t answer the major question though.”
He leaned forward. The flames from the fire licked upward, orange and red with blue at the very tips, “What actually lies on the other side of that door? And how does Tralam figure into all of this? My father said that the Federation is there. Apparently they are. Also, apparently they’re all dead. Why would we need to go there?”
The scent of the fire drifted upward, wood and flame. It was a good smell. It was the smell that signified life, and he savored it, for a moment of silence reigned all around him. It seemed that every question just brought another question along with it. There was no way to know if his father had been merely hallucinating and repeating some portion of an old tale. But the fact that the old tales specifically mentioned wormholes controlled by the Federation and a door closed by the Speakers was interesting.
It was also far too neat to be just coincidental. Why had his father said that he had to go to Tralam? Even if the place existed, what could possibly be there that would help anything or anyone at all?
For that matter, if it was an impenetrable fortress and nobody knew where it was, and it certainly seemed as if nobody had any clue as to where the hell it was, what good would it do to try to go there?
It was all just a wild goose chase, he decided as he stared into the flames. The heat of those flames beat against his face, and he found himself remembering again. When he had been a small boy, his father had been away a lot. Federation duty had meant that he was seldom at home. On one of his rare furloughs, General Bates had taken his young son on an expedition. They had walked for an entire day, eating rations and drinking purified water from refresher bott
les. They had stopped in the old-growth forest outside Newport City and set up a meager shelter there. General Bates had started a fire and then turned to his son.
The young boy that Blade had been had stared up at his father’s face as General Bates said in a gruff voice, “This is where I leave you. You will find your way home, or you will never return home again.”
And with those words, a hovercraft had appeared, clearly called by his father. Blade, young and frightened and protesting wildly, had tried to climb aboard the craft as well. His father had pushed him away and left him seated there on the forest floor staring upward as the hovercraft crested the trees and then vanished.
He’d stayed the night there because he’d been too afraid to move. The next day he had dutifully put out the fire and then began the trek home. He had no rations. No water. No way to know in which direction he was traveling or how far he would have to go before he reached the city again.
And somewhere in the two and a half days that it took him to find his way back home, he became a man. He became a man who could listen hard and hear water running along the bank. A man who was unafraid to climb into a tree and steal eggs from a prey bird’s nest. A man who was young in age and body but strong in spirit and will and who had found his way home again.
The first thing he had done when he had walked through that door into his father’s house had been to punch his father directly in the nose, breaking it. He had stood there, his fingers burning and his rage burning even higher. To his shock, his father had merely looked at him and said, “Good for you. You hungry?”
And that had been the end of it.
Blade had never understood why his father had done that. Despite all the years between that day and the one he was currently living, he was still at a loss to understand why his father had done that.
Oh, he understood the reasons on the outside of that action. He’d been too young, and far too frail. He had always been a sickly child, and his mother had doted on him, always keeping him confined to bed or to hospital despite the hospital continually telling her that there was nothing wrong with him other than that he needed exercise and fresh air.
After that day, his mother had avoided him. Blade had seen the marks on her arms and cheek; he had known, he had not wanted to know, but he had known, that his father had put those marks there. He also knew that it was his father’s orders that kept her from denying him the right to run play and to be healthy.
His mother had been domineering and smothering. She had been sure that her son would die during an early childhood battle with some small disease and Blade knew, after he was much older, that that had been what had directed her actions toward his childhood and what made her so careful with him.
As he sat there now, staring at the flames, he found himself wondering if his father had done that to prove to his wife and Blade’s mother that Blade was, indeed, quite strong and capable, if he was only given the chance to be so.
Or perhaps he had done it to force his son to realize that he was indeed capable of all of the things that his mother swore that he was not.
Perhaps at the end, it didn’t matter what the reasoning behind that action was. What did matter was that Blade had been forever changed by the experience. And his hero-worship of his father had died that day. The biggest casualty from that day had been the relationship between boy and father.
Blade had never trusted his father after that. He knew that now and as he sat there trying to decipher some sort of reasoning from the old tale that had just been told and his father’s words.
Blade and his father had fought continually simply because there was no trust between them. And now he had to try to trust the words of his father, a man he had never trusted, not even after that very man had turned his back on the thing he held so dear his entire life.
He spoke again, shattering the silence. “I don’t know if this is something we should pursue. My father was a man who was reasonable to a fault, and perhaps his blood loss made his mind weak or something. I mean, how could we even find it, and why would we want to try when we need to do so much here, now that the war is really on?”
Jessica snorted. “If there is a fortress, and consider this for a moment, will you guys? How could there possibly be this place that none of us have ever seen or heard of? If it was an actual place, somebody would’ve found it by now.”
Tara’s hair brushed against his neck again as she leaned forward and wrapped one arm around his shoulders. The weight and heat of her arm centered Blade. Her words and settled him. “Because it is not in this universe and maybe the reason nobody has ever found it is because they went through the wormhole the wrong way. I mean, what if they went in the way that they thought was the direction because that is the direction they would go in, but that led nowhere? He said the exit-way is the entrance, after all.”
Talon’s fingers stroked along his chin. “That still doesn’t answer the question as to where this wormhole is. We do know, we know without a doubt, that the Federation was wild to get to it. We intend to blow it the hell up to prevent them from using it. But what if we went into it instead?”
Blade said, “I think that would be a mistake. We don’t have time for the foolish chasing of old tales. We have to fight now.”
Talon said, “Think on this for a second. If there really is a weapon there, some kind of tech that only the Speakers and the founding members could use, that would be an incredible tool for us to use. If there was something there that was used by the races before us and we could use it, and remember they were a warring universe from all accounts, could we not use that to take the Federation down in one fell swoop?”
Blade said, “You’re talking ancient tech. Tech none of us know how to use. We’d likely kill ourselves before we could figure out what to do with it.”
Jessica chuckled. “You know what would be great? If we could trap the Federation within an empty universe.”
Renall said, “But if there are doors out of that universe, the dead one, into ones that are peaceful and not advanced, we would be doing nothing but ensuring that the Federation was given a universe.”
Blade shook his head. “This is all just wild talk. We’re wasting time here. We need to call in more troops for the fighting going on along the outer rings of the Solaris system, and we need to put our energies into beating the Federation now and right here.”
Talon nodded. Marik said, “Yes but what if we could find something there? Something that would help us to win with less bloodshed and loss?”
Tara said, “Maybe we’re meant to find it.”
Blade’s laughter fell from his mouth but it held no humor. “I think you need more sleep. You’re talking in circles.”
Tara looked from face-to-face and then her eyes settled on his face again. Her fingers gripped his tightly. “Think of it, Blade. Look at the people gathered here. You are an assassin. Jenny is a woman who is capable not only of healing but of being a weapon that can blast death and light into something. Talon, the best captain in the universe. Jeval, who has a gift that can allow him to see things that nobody else can see. Jessica, a warrior unlike any other. Marik, who can heal the most grievous of wounds. There must be a reason for all of you being gathered this way.”
He stared at her. “Tara, you make it sound as if we were fated to embark upon some quest to find this place of which my father spoke. To which the old legends still speak, but not often and not loudly.”
Her smile trembled, and a tear slid down her face. “What if you were?”
Many hours later he stood guard, his shoulder leaning against the very tree that his father had died under. The world was quiet except for the sound of the wounded moaning or crying softly and the wind which blew hard from the east. He had settled Tara into bed, making love to her long and hard before leaving her to her slumber.
Everything felt strange and in disarray. His mind kept going back to Tara’s earlier words. Was there some type of cosmic fate at work here, one that he cou
ld not escape?
Footsteps sounded on the ground. His body went tense and rigid in his hands went to his weapons. A voice came across the wind. “Hold your weapons.”
He spun, fast weapons already at the ready and drawn. His voice was thick. “You tell me to hold? You are treading on rebel territory, and yet you come to me and say to hold my weapons from your flesh?”
The man regarding him took a slow step forward. A small beam of moonlight laid a stray finger across that man’s face. A face that Blade knew well because it was so like his own. Chiseled features, full lips, black hair, and high cheekbones. The man stepped forward again, moving easily despite his slow pace. His voice was low and calm. “Yes, I do. If for no other reason but for the fact that we are brothers.”
Blade snorted. “You are the son of the woman that my father betrayed his vows to my mother with. You are no brother to me. You are also a Federation officer, and so you are my enemy. What sort of irrationality would put you here in the sight of my weapon fire, Drake?”
Drake flashed him a broad smile. “You speak as if you would like to kill me.”
Blade admitted, “I have thought about it several times in my life.”
Drake shrugged. The gesture lifted one shoulder and dropped it again in a slow rolling motion. “I can understand that. I’d be a liar if I didn’t say I thought about killing you a few times in my life. That time you and your friends held me down and tried to drown me in the well was one of them.”
Blades eyebrows rose. “You had that coming.”
Drake snorted softly. “Because I bested you in a game and made you feel embarrassed?”
Blade said, “No, because you compared yourself to my father and the fact that that was a game that he won most often of anyone.”
Drake advanced again, just a single step. “Our father. You forget that. He is our father.”
Blades throat closed. “Was. He died earlier this very day. We set his body to burn in the way of the warriors of times past.”
Drake sighed. “I know. Before he died, he managed to send me a message saying that his death was imminent and that I must come.”
