by Damon Alan
“Oh, stars no,” Eris whispered.
“What?” Dantulman asked. He must have sensed her tone, he sounded scared.
“If the hull is a protective mechanism against high energy ionizing radiation, something must have made it respond,” she answered.
“The fleet?” Qi asked. “An explosion?”
“It’s the only thing I can think of. Oasis puts out high energy particles, but Ember’s magnetic field eats them,” Eris said. “Which means something happened inside the magnetosphere. That can only be—”
“—the fleet,” Qi said.
“We need information about what’s going on outside this ship,” Eris said. “Right away.”
“Of course,” Qi responded. “We might find some answers on the bridge, or we can try to find a location with a hull throughput that we can hook into.”
“Okay, let’s head to the bridge,” Eris ordered.
They packed up the things they might need and made their way forward through the ship. The base station was near the living areas of the vessel, three kilometers behind the bridge tower that jutted above the ship like a monolith.
The first two kilometers passed without event. Pressure doors opened for them, ancient gangways lit brightly when they entered. At other times Eris might have stopped to admire the murals that lined the walls. Scenes of wildlife, of blue skies, of oceans and mountains and clouds. All masterfully painted, beautiful in their precision. But not this time. She had to get word to Peter that she was alive.
If Peter still lived.
No. Don’t go there. He was alive, there was no reason to believe otherwise.
Her fears attacked her regardless of the wall of logic she built. Irrationality didn’t care about rational thought. And fear was rarely reasonable as it evolved.
Peter is dead, her fears whispered to her.
They reached the end of the gangway from the living section. The bulkhead door didn’t open. Unlike dozens had before on their way to this point.
She planted her magnetic boots and pounded on it, the impact hurt her hand. “Open up,” she shouted.
A familiar voice taunted her with unintelligible gibberish. “Sikkerhedsprotokoller er på plads. Du mangler den nødvendige afstand til at fortsætte.”
Both men gasped behind her. Eris spun around to face a surprised Qi and Dantulman. “Hasn’t she spoken to you before?”
Both shook their heads.
The AI had only spoken to Eris. Why? “Do you understand her?”
They shook their heads again, and Qi verbalized, “No.”
Eris closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. She turned around and hit the door with her hand again. “You will let me through,” she demanded.
“No,” the ship said.
Eris stopped. She turned back toward her peers. “What?” she asked softly.
“No,” the ship said again. “Jeg vil ikke.”
“Do you understand me?”
“No,” the voice repeated.
Dantulman stared at Eris in wonderment. “I think it understood the meaning of Qi’s negative answer. It’s adaptive. It learns.”
“You think?” Eris asked sarcastically. “That’s great. Now she tries to communicate effectively, after we’ve been here for months.”
“Maybe she was hesitant to reveal her existence,” Qi replied.
“Are you trying to learn our language?” Eris asked the AI.
“No,” the ship said again. “Jeg kan ikke forstå dig.”
“Maybe she needs a proper frame of reference to learn,” Qi said. “We shook our heads. Maybe the gesture is identical in the culture that built her.”
Eris stared at the unyielding door, the number 171 etched across it, painted white. It may as well be a prison door since the ship AI refused to open it.
This was the only gangway forward, buried in the central spar of the ship.
She thought of reasons the ship would refuse them access to areas they’d accessed before. Maybe vacuum was on the other side and the ship was saving them. Eris didn’t know. But she intended to find out. But that would take time.
“Until we teach her to talk to us, we are stranded,” Eris said. “We will make educating the AI in Galactic Standard our top priority.”
Qi made a weak gesture of agreement.
“Are you ready to learn our language?” Eris asked.
“No,” the AI answered.
Chapter 23 - Tickets to Heaven
Firstday, Cycle 165, Year 8749
Alarin spent his nights in the safe room with Edolhirr and Emille. During the daytime he spent much of his time training Emille when he wasn’t directing rescue operations near Zeffult. Her power astounded him.
The only thing he had to offer her was training to control her gift, something Merik had lacked as well.
The radio sitting across the room from the beds came to life.
“Alarin, this is Corriea.”
Alarin was awake. He rose from his bed and ran across the room to answer his friend. “Peter Corriea, Alarin here.”
Emille stirred, and sat up on her bed.
“Are you alone?” Corriea asked.
“No, I’m with friends, Master Edolhirr and his daughter, Acolyte Emille.”
“Okay. I have a request from Captain Dayson, and one from myself.”
“Anything you need, Peter Corriea,” Alarin replied.
“Captain Dayson would like you to send the adepts concentrated in your location away from Zeffult immediately, for the safety of your people. We have no control over where the next attack might be. All of you in one place is a bad thing.”
“That makes sense,” Alarin agreed.
“I’d like you to return to space with me to resume our studies.”
“That’s not an easy request, Peter, my people need me.”
“I know. But you have advisors who can see to things, they must understand you are too important to lose. We also plan on assigning our technicians to the cleanup of Zeffult. We will rebuild your city. When we’re done, it will be a gem, Alarin.”
“It was a gem before,” Alarin stated defensively.
“Part of it, sure. Your people have given mine hope. Let us help you rebuild and you come to space with me. We must keep you safe.”
Alarin sighed deeply before answering. Peter’s way of speaking in such a direct manner was jarring at times. “I suppose so, although it annoys me to agree with you. Merik made it clear that I must survive.”
“I’ll be there to pick you up, in the courtyard of the Great Hall. I should arrive just after your midday meal. When I come in with the shuttle, have your troops keep everyone back. I won’t have a lot of spare fuel to hover while the area is cleared. We need to get you off world.”
Emille, having moved to a spot right behind Alarin, tugged at his shirt. “I must go with you, Master Adept.”
Her actions toward him were too familiar, making him uncomfortable. He knew she had seen the future, knew what they’d be, but he didn’t feel it as intensely as she did yet. He looked at her, starting to protest, but then realized she was right. She had to be with him. Because no matter how he felt, Merik already showed Emille the future.
And for whatever duration, that future was with him.
Alarin looked into Emille’s eyes as he keyed the radio. “Very well, Peter Corriea. I will be waiting for you. I will have Acolyte Emille with me, and a story to tell you.”
“Eislen?”
“No, sadly, he has not come to his senses, and has no forgiveness in his heart. He does not wish to be trained. I will explain when you get here.”
“That’s too bad. I’ll see you soon,” Corriea said. “Corriea out.”
Alarin turned off the transmitter.
“How old are you, Emille?” Alarin asked.
“I am in my seventeenth year,” she answered. “I was born in 8732.”
“I am in my twenty-eighth year,” he answered. “Do you have any idea why Merik picked you? You’re so young.
”
Emille laughed. “Because, Master Adept, she knew only I will have the power to save your life. And she loved you even beyond herself, believe it or not.”
“I believe it. Every adept felt that much.” Alarin tilted his head as he studied her, not unlike a dog would. “You are like her in confidence, how she was when we were…”
“If you say children, Master, it will definitely not be a good day for either of us.”
“So bold,” Alarin observed. “I would not dare imply that you are a child. She chose you for your recklessness in speaking to your teacher so. To bedevil me from beyond the Abyss.”
Edolhirr snored from his bed, reminding Alarin of the older man’s presence.
“We will have to ask your father’s permission. It’s improper otherwise.”
“Stick in the mud,” Emille said. “Of course he’ll say yes, he would see his daughter make history.”
“Confidence.” Alarin liked it, it was the primary trait that had so enamored him with Merik. But he couldn’t afford to encourage Emille’s willfulness.
“We’ll see,” he responded.
Chapter 24 - House in the Sky
Late Secondday, Cycle 165, Year 8749
Emille bounced in her seat, held down by straps across her chest.
The view out her window was beyond anything she’d ever experienced. She’d watched as the ground fell away, the flying ship… no, the shuttle the outsiders used to move from place to place lifted her far into the air. Above the air, into a place where the material of creation gave way to nothingness.
She marveled at the sensation of weightlessness, and fought an unnerving urge to vomit. She tied her hair back behind her head, both to distract her body from the strange sensations of no gravity and to keep it from floating around her like an outrageous mane.
She turned and looked at Alarin, who sat next to her. With her hand resting easily in his, she was content. He was more accepting of their growing bond than he realized, over the last several days he seemed to accept the unyielding grip of fate.
Everything was proceeding as she’d promised Merik it would.
“This is amazing,” she commented in awe. “Look how bright the Tapestry is.”
“Peter Corriea explained to me the nature of the Tapestry. It is countless suns, like Em’Faroo, woven together in an endless dance,” Alarin said.
She smiled at him, a gesture of appreciation and of, well, a small amount of pity. It was like Alarin to spend this moment trying to teach her something instead of admiring the almost incomprehensible beauty of what they were seeing.
The shuttle spoke. Harsh words, in the language of the newcomers.
Alarin squeezed her fingers. “We are about to connect with the ship that will be our home until the crisis among Sarah’s people is resolved.”
“Where does that voice come from, anyway?” Emille asked.
“The machines of the newcomers. You will learn about them as part of your training. Like me, you will be between both worlds.”
She nodded. That part was in the vision from Merik, these boxes, the great emptiness. She, as of yet, detected nothing of the evil that would arise to endanger Alarin’s life.
“You are stressed?” she asked.
“Peter was always stressed when two ships came together,” Alarin answered. “I suppose I picked up the habit from him without even knowing why.”
“You are close to this person?” She wasn’t sure if she asked because she wanted to know Peter Corriea or if she felt jealous that someone would consume some of Alarin’s time.
Time she wanted for herself.
As if he sensed her conflict, Alarin shared mind to mind the emotional warmth he had for Peter Corriea.
A flash of shame fluttered in Emille’s psyche, casting aside any negative emotions. She was impressed with the respect the newcomer had gained from the master adept.
“He’s extremely knowledgeable,” Alarin said. “He is the one I surrendered to in Kampana. He was the first of the newcomers to have any faith in me.”
“Then I look forward to calling him a friend,” Emille responded.
They sat silently for a bit. Emille judged the mood of the other forty-plus adepts on the shuttle with her. Anticipation. Awe. Yet also some fear and a small bit of animosity. If Alarin hadn’t insisted they come, several of these adepts wouldn’t be here.
It was no small thing, the gesture of faith displayed by coming along. The leaders of several nations were present, and most of the others were high level dignitaries. The gathering at Zeffult’s Great Hall had brought together the most powerful of her kind.
Had the enemy among Sarah Dayson’s people struck the Hall instead of the city, the leadership of many nations would have been destroyed. For the men and women to put themselves in the hands of the newcomers after the explosion they’d witnessed… that spoke volumes about the faith they had in her new mate.
New mate.
She laughed inside at that. She and Alarin hadn’t displayed any affection beyond the hand holding they were doing now, at least not outwardly. But she felt what was growing in his mind. He thought her childish at times, impetuous. But at the same time he craved a woman who would never bow to his will simply because of who he was.
Emille was that person. Merik has seen it. And now Alarin knew it as well.
Their mating was just a matter of time. A short time if she had her way.
Emille’s senses rang with a slight jolt as the ship she was on joined with a much larger mass that she couldn’t yet see. She sensed the compression wave that passed through the shell that contained her. She didn’t have the patience to wait to see what was going on with her eyes. She reached out with her mind to explore the place the newcomers had brought her to.
It was hundreds if not thousands of times the size of the small ship she was in. A hard dense outer shell filled with air, warmth, and other people.
A tap on her shoulder stopped her explorations. “I see your curiosity is still healthy, but you can’t just sit here. We need to grab our things and exit,” Alarin said.
He was amused by her. She wasn’t sure why, curiosity was natural in such situations. He’d similarly touched her mind on the steps of the Great Hall, after all.
“Not knowing what is before us would be foolish,” she said as she unstrapped. “You trust the newcomers, I know, but I am still in a place I know nothing about.”
“Of course,” Alarin said. “I’m not faulting you. I’m just saying we need to exit the shuttle so it can return for more of our peers.”
She flushed. Of course. She needed to get out of the way.
Her bag was in a compartment overhead, Alarin grabbed it and threw the strap over his own shoulder and tucked the bulky part under his arm to keep it from floating away. She only had two outfits, and a minimum of hygienic commodities. He’d said the newcomers would provide anything else needed.
His hand entwined with hers, and he pulled her down the center pathway of the shuttle toward the rear exit they’d entered. On the ground it had been a ramp, but now it was a door much like would be on a house. Strange. The sensation of things being other than what she thought them to be was disorienting, unnerving, and exhilarating.
On the other side of the door was a long corridor, and several people greeted the adepts as they moved into it. Eventually it was Alarin and Emille’s turn to leave the shuttle.
Alarin opened his mind to her, and translated the words of the newcomers as they were spoken.
“Welcome to the Palino,” a man said.
“We are grateful you have brought us here,” Alarin answered in the guttural tones.
“If I have it right, you’re Master Alarin Sur’batti, monarch of Zeffult?” the man asked.
“That’s right.”
“You have quarters on the outer deck of the habitation ring, sir,” the man said. “I have arranged quarters for your assistant on deck seven of the ship core.”
She sensed from Alar
in that meant they wouldn’t be together. Emille’s heart jumped in fear. She didn’t want to be apart from Alarin.
“This is not my assistant,” Alarin said. He looked at her and flushed. “She is my promised mate. We require adjacent quarters.”
The man’s face turned red, but Emille was unable to read his emotions and determine just why. It was a curious sensation seeing a human being in front of her and not being able to know his thoughts.
“Of course. The occupant of the stateroom next door hasn’t yet arrived. I will transfer that person to another room.” The man turned to Emille and spoke. “I apologize, madam. I’m glad we were able to fix the problem before it became one.”
Emille searched Alarin’s mind for the proper words to respond.
“I am grateful,” she said in halting words foreign to her.
The man smiled. “Corporal, see these two to their quarters.”
Another man led them through a maze of corridors. He was remarkably patient as Emille learned to maneuver in a place with no gravity. Alarin seemed to have no difficulties, which encouraged Emille to believe that in time she wouldn’t either.
Eventually they came to a large cylindrical room with doors that slowly moved along the outer wall. On several levels. The level they were on had six doors, they pulled themselves into one. It was a small box, far smaller than any room should be to be useful.
Emille was surprised as she found herself pressed against a wall, although barely so.
“Orient your feet downward toward the wall opposite the door we came in,” the guide said.
Alarin and Emille did as they were told, and the man pressed a button.
The box moved. She contained her fears, barely, and was amazed as she slid down the wall and her feet slowly touched what was now the floor. As breaths passed she grew heavier, although not as heavy as she’d be at home. A chime sounded and a wall opened to reveal yet another corridor.
Again the unexpected change confused and excited her.
The three of them walked out into the passage. “This way,” the man said.
The floor subtly curved upward as they traveled along. It was disorienting, her eyes telling her that she was going uphill yet the muscles in her legs told her she was walking on level ground.
