What is this place? I wondered. There were no schematics of Manderlas that I’d ever seen that mapped out this grotto. I raised my hands and wiped the water from my cheeks. Then I massaged the base of my neck, feeling again the ridge of the transmitter embedded in my field port. What if this turns on again? I thought. What if it already has?
I craned my head towards the dome of the ceiling. The blue glass lights formed a motif, like some cryptic binary code. Something familiar hovered just at the edge of my memory. I stared for a long time. Water beaded off of me, pooling at my feet.
I was staring at the night sky on Forsara.
Viziadrumon touched my arm. “There it is, Oren. Just coming up over the horizon.”
Randall, Vizia’s familiar, was hovering in the air beside his head. It chirrupped.
“The Lance,” I said.
Vizia nodded. “That constellation of stars has served as the wayfinder for the people of Forsara for millennia. The first peoples to cross the Rylan Ocean used it to guide them. The Lance has shifted its place in the sky over the eons - or rather, the planet has shifted - but the last star in the left tail of the phalanx still carries out its purpose. It is the fixed point in the night sky. True north. Or close enough that it will help you stay the course when you need it.”
“But someday, it won’t,” I said.
“No.” He shook his head. “Nothing really ever lasts.”
I glanced over at him, but he was gone. I was back in the grotto. I smiled and walked to the last blue glass portal on the left, standing beneath its light.
“Can you guide me home?” I asked out loud. My voice echoed back to me.
Using that spot in the room as my fixed point, I turned in a slow circle, sweeping my eyes over every inch of the grotto. There. Just a few paces away from me. A small alcove in the wall that would have been hidden from any other angle. I walked towards it. It disappeared.
I walked closer, reaching out my hand. At the point where my eyes told me I should touch smooth rock, there was only air. The alcove was seamlessly hidden by the angle of the walls, cut just so, creating an illusion of surface uniformity strong enough to fool my brain, even when I already knew it was there.
I looked back up at my northern star one last time. Then I turned and slipped through the gap.
* * *
With my body turned sideways, there was just enough room for me to move, my chest and back scraping against the wall on either side. I wriggled along, feeling my way forward, leading with my right hand and foot. Soon, the gap widened, freeing me to walk facing forward. A warm breeze whispered across my cheek, and I sensed the space opening around me, my footsteps echoing in a wider chamber, the walls and roof beyond the limits of my sight.
Something loomed ahead of me, taking shape in the gloom; a shadowy bulk in the faint light, as large as an interstellar ship.
Our ship.
Reach, that canny shipheart, had built a backdoor right into the heart of Manderlas, and he did not tell any of us. A secret passage to himself.
I had not seen the Reacher in years. It looked so small now, but it had carried us across the galaxy, and my heart swelled with joy to find it again. To think that the seven of us had once called this humble spacecraft our home, I thought. If Reach were here right now, and I could somehow hug him, I would.
The Reacher served as the initial structure upon which our entire network was built. We buried it in the early days of our work, and if you were to look at Manderlas from above and mark the point at the exact center of the island, that was where you’d find it. Reach had led me straight to the root of our whole system, when every known approach was likely to be guarded or fortified.
I moved forward carefully, scanning the gloom for any sign of life, but there was only the soft padding of my bare feet and my quiet breath. I approached the fore of the ship and touched the surface with my hands. It was smooth and seamless, a testament to the mastery of Forsaran shipbuilders. My fingers left streaks in the layers of dust that covered it.
This was the key to Reacher’s plan. If he regained control of the ship, then we might have a chance against the corrupted shipheart. I made my way aft to the emergency airlock, the only entrance that could be controlled manually from the outside.
Even in deep sleep, a ship’s emergency systems are designed to remain functional. The power cells can last for centuries before they are depleted. I waved my hand in front of the sensor. It blinked, acknowledging my presence.
Yes! I leaned close to the sensor and whispered my personal access phrase.
“Saiara.”
The exterior door glided open, as silent as the day it was molded. I stepped in. The exterior door closed behind me, and the system recognized that there was no need to pressurize the air, so the interior door unlatched just a moment later.
I was inside.
“Lights,” I said, “forward cabin.” My voice resounded in the darkness.
Two rows of emergency guide lights came to life on each side of the hallway, curving around the corner, leading me towards the main deck. Nostalgia colored my senses as I followed them. We had lived for so long inside these corridors and rooms, and it had been one of the happiest and most purposeful times in my life.
But I’d barely thought about it since we landed here on Eaiph and began our work. It all seemed so small now, so cramped. It’s a wonder we ever survived that journey together, I thought with a smile. With everything we’d dreamed of now facing oblivion, being back here, surrounded by these memories, gave me hope.
By the time I reached the main deck, the local functions were all awake, prompted from sleep by my presence. Even though the ship’s systems were foundational to the genesis of Manderlas, once the network of field hubs went online, they were no longer essential. In a diffuse system like ours, when enough nodes are up and running, the whole system becomes self-sustaining, no longer contingent on any single source. We had put the ship into hibernation and forgotten about it, but with the right knowledge, it could still do crippling damage to the whole network.
That’s when I realized I’d been carrying the right knowledge with me the whole time.
I walked over to the main console, reached up to the back of my neck, and found the hard ridge of field transmitter. I felt for some sort of button or release, but there was nothing. I had no choice. I grasped the ridge and pulled, steadily increasing the pressure until I felt the filaments start to slide out.
I gasped. The pain was excruciating. My vision went black.
When I came to, I was lying on the floor. The transmitter was in my hand, wet with sweat and a drizzle of blood. I cleaned the filaments as best I could, wiping them on my sodden cloak, then I inserted the transmitter into the port on the console. In the quiet, the filaments whirred into the ship’s interface. A moment later, the whole cabin lit up. I lifted my arm and squinted my eyes to block the light until I adjusted.
A single line of text blinked on the monitor nearest to me.
“Reacher!” I shouted, joy in my voice. “Yes it is. I’m glad I could offer you a ride out of there.”
“I would carry you to the ends of the galaxy if need be, Reach. I was lost without you.”
“What happens now?”
“What happens to everyone who is still connected if we destroy the network?”
The monitor was blank.
“Reach?”
“Isn’t there…?”
“He’ll destroy it all,” I said, my voice flat with horror.
“But… all of those people, Reacher.”
My mind was racing. A dozen different scenarios played out in my mind, none of them good. I thought of all the people who had suffered and would suffer still because of our mistakes.
I smacked my fist on the console. “You ask me to choose, but what choice is there? If only I had never traveled to that infernal Arcturean moon.”
I sighed, rubbing my fingers across my cheek and chin. “We must end this,” I said. “Too many have suffered already. I will do whatever needs to be done.”
“How?”
“Back inside?”
“And do what, exactly?”
“Eledar’s breath. How much time do you need?”
“And what if I’m found out?”
“Enough what?”
“You want me to get found out?”
The portable field transmitter slowly ejected from the port on the console.
“Why don’t I just use one of the field basins here on the ship?”
I picked it up with reluctance. “Are you sure?”
“And the corrupted shipheart will not notice?”
“Another hidden entry? How many secrets have you been keeping, Reach?”
I brought the transmitter up to the back of my neck.
32 Into Darkness
I stood in an immeasurable corridor, featureless grey walls and charcoal sky converging into a single point of bright white light ahead of me. My vision wrestled with the perspective. Was this hallway so long that it shrank away in the distance, or did it just get smaller and smaller until it became too tiny for even the smallest creature to pass through? I turned around, trying to orient myself, but the effect was the same in the opposite direction, walls and sky coming together, this time in a single point of blackness.
What now, Reacher? I thought, swiveling my head in each direction.
I started walking towards the light.
Ahead, to my right, an opening appeared in the smooth surface of the wall. I hurried towards it. As I got closer, a figure darted out, crossing the corridor too fast for me to identify, and disappeared through another opening on the other side. I shouted, but by the time I reached the spot, whoever or whatever it was was gone. All that was left was the vague outline of a door on each wall. I saw no way to open either, no handle or trigger. I rapped on the surface with the flat of my hand, but it was like hitting solid steel.
I sighed, then kept on moving in the direction of the light. I passed a door with an old fashioned knob. I jiggled it, but it was locked. I knocked, tapping with my knuckles. The sound was hollow, perhaps indicating open space on the other side, but no one responded.
I came to something like a window. It was a shade lighter than the wall around it, and a smudge of light glowed behind it, like a burning candle obscured by a curtain. The smudge of light disappeared, then reemerged. Someone was moving past the candle! I hammered on the window with my closed fist, but I could not break through. The metal would not relent.
I rubbed the edge of my stinging fist with my other hand. What in the names of the Scions do I do now? I wondered. Then a movement caught my eye. I squinted, peering down the corridor. Someone was coming towards me. I was about to call out when I recognized it.
It was one of the sightless, disfigured humans that had attacked Reacher and me. It was shambling down the hallway, swinging its head left and right, snuffling in the air.
I froze, holding my breath, trying not to make a sound.
Something creaked behind me.
The creature’s head shot up. Its empty eye sockets burned with cold, silver light. It started running towards me, terrifyingly fast.
I whipped around. A wooden door hung open on its hinges. Where did that come from? I ran to it, grabbing its edge so it wouldn’t swing shut on me. I heard the creature’s steps behind me, the grunting labor of its breathing. I jumped across the threshold, tumbling to the floor. The door slammed closed behind me.
* * *
I rolled over to my hands and knees. I was in a darkened landing. The only light came from the top of a stairwell. Voices trickled down, people talking and laughing.
I stood up and put my ear against the door I came through, but I heard nothing. The wood was rough and unsanded, but it was bound with ornate iron trimmings. I ran my hands over its uneven grain. The door was different from the cold, sterile, empty corridor with its lurking monsters. It felt more human, more like home, and that gave me hope.
I had no desire to go back through that door, so I did the only other thing I could: I turned and walked up the stairs. The voices got louder as I climbed, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. At the top of the stairs, there was a short hallway. Light filtered out around the edges of a curtain hanging over a doorway at the far end.
I crept up to the curtain. There was a burst of familiar laughter.
“Eledar’s breath,” I whispered to myself.
I pulled the curtain open.
The laughter stopped.
Reacher’s secret doorway had led me right to our private quarters in the ziggurat. My whole crew sat on plush cushions in a semi-circle around a low table. Everyone stared at me.
Including Cordar.
“Orenpausha!” Adjet said, breaking an awkward silence. “We’ve been waiting for you!” She jumped up and came running over to me. The pattern of her strange, dark green tattoos emerged from beneath her sleeve as she reached for my hand.
A pot of kaffa steamed on the table. Its herbal, heady smell made my mouth water. Everyone held their own cups, and they looked peaceful and happy. Sid had his bionetic legs attached, and there were no visible signs of scarring from the gruesome sacrificial vision I witnessed at the start of all this madness. I tried not to stare too long at Cordar, but my eyes kept flitting over to him. He and Neka were nuzzled together, his arm around her shoulders, her legs in his lap.
“Where did you just come from?” Cordar asked, watching me intensely.
As my mind raced over possible answers, Cordar took his arm off of Neka’s shoulder and leaned across her to the pot of kaffa. He picked up an empty mug and tipped the kettle, pouring the steaming liquid in. Then he stood up and walked over
to me.
He held out the mug. “You must be tired, pausha. You had a long night last night. This should help bring you back to the land of the living.” His smile sent a chill up my spine.
“Right,” I said, taking it from him. “Thanks, Cordar.” I held the mug, but I didn’t drink from it. My hands were shaking.
His eyes bored into me.
He knows, I thought. If I drink this, Reach won’t be able to pull me out until the effects wear off. But if I don’t, I’ll give myself away.
I hesitated a moment longer, then tilted the mug back and swallowed the kaffa in one gulp, hoping Reacher was right about my ability to filter out the drug faster than the others. The jolt of energy and pleasure came right away, but there was something else too. Something I hadn’t noticed before. An almost imperceptible dulling. I knew I was supposed to be afraid, but my fear became a distant, intellectual concept, and my sense of urgency evaporated.
Does it really even matter if this is all a simulation? I wondered.
Cordar patted me on the shoulder, and sat back down. “You were about to tell us where you were coming from?” he said as he put his arm around Neka.
No, I thought, fighting the impulse to just sit down on a cushion and have another mug of kaffa. Cordar is dead. Whoever that is, he’s not my friend.
In that moment, I was grateful that the drug took away my fear, because I knew Cordar was suspicious of me, and if I seemed afraid, he would see it. “I’ve been sleeping,” I said. “Knocked right out after last night and…” I glanced at Adjet, standing next to me, and gave her a sly smile, “and this morning.” The lie came easily.
“When I sent Torto to ask you to join us for a morning walk, pausha,” Xander said, “I didn’t realize he would interrupt anything… private.” He gave me a knowing smile.
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