StarFlight: The Prism Baronies (Beyond the Outer Rim Book 2)

by Reiter

  “There we must disagree, my friend,” Dungias had replied. “The cost was clear and more commonly referred to as ‘necessary’. But to fulfill this Star Quest, I cannot do what must be done from outside the situation. I must be fully engaged, and those that trek with me must be this way as well. My decision to be captured was of great risk, but it was also the most expedient means to rid my Captain of a constant aggravation who possessed the capability to be more than an annoying distraction.”

  “And the one that was lost?” BJ had inquired.

  “The means by which all others will be measured,” Dungias had quickly returned. “Unfair as that might prove to be. And for the vow she made to me – the one she died keeping – I now view and judge myself according to the standard she has established.” Dungias had had his back to the silent exchange of glances between BJ and Berylon, but he had not missed it.

  “What sort of hubris has this woman infected me with?” Dungias thought as he continued to walk. “To take pride in being able to wipe the confident smirk off of BJ’s face.” The smile became a soft chuckle as Dungias reached what appeared to be an abandoned building. It was without occupants; it was not without presence, not without power. Dungias could already feel it, though nothing registered on his goggles. He was reminded of one of his ascensions; he had had to remove his goggles to see the Chorus. A tapped button on his brace-com lowered the goggles but left a trigger to a very fast return.

  A scent crossed his senses, but only for a single whiff. Whatever it was, it was capable of incredibly fast movement. Dungias’ eyes squinted as he extended his senses. He found a small degree of confusion, though curiosity was probably a better word. As he drew closer to the building, that curiosity became anger. His approach was not something it approved of and Dungias stopped walking.

  “Can you understand me?” he asked, speaking louder than his normal volume. He waited as his chin came up from his chest. He could hear movement to his right; one hundred thirty-five meters distant and ten meters off the ground. Dungias looked to his left, allowing his cloak to look to his right. He could see dust at the height and distance he had estimated, on top of a metallic sculpture of some sort, and another small cloud even further away on the ground.

  “Moving around to my rear,” Dungias thought, hearing the movement circle around to his back. Whatever it was, it moved with the speed of a hover-bike. “And not alone!” Dungias realized, taking a step back. He leaned back as a figure streaked in front of him, a single claw coming away from the body and passing centimeters in front of his face… what would have been his neck had he remained standing. “Alpha!”

  An invisible pulse of energy passed from the Osamu. Dungias smirked as he could barely feel its passing. The ground where the creature ran suddenly gave way as the gravity was altered to make the firm stone fly apart at the slightest touch. The creature, now clearly identified as hominoid, fell and tumbled for nearly fifteen meters.

  “I believe that is what Jocasta would call Deceleration Trauma,” Dungias said softly, turning to follow after the tumbling body. “Is it tri-pedal?” he asked as his goggles formed over his eyes. “No, it has a tail.” Dungias stopped walking and jumped straight up. Another speeding form passed under him and merged with the still rolling creature as Dungias landed on the ground. He wondered if that form could have been the one making the sounds that nearly distracted him from feeling the approach of the creature. “Most interesting!

  “I will ask again if you can understand me,” Dungias called out, lifting his hands up.

  “Understand,” the creature hissed as it glared at Dungias. Given its incredible speed, he was not surprised to find it of a slender build. Its skin was gray, tinged with a very slight tone of sea foam green. A tuft of navy blue hair was atop its head, a thin line of hair ran down its back. Three-fingered hands and two-toed feet ended in sharp claws, and the long, thin tail swayed back and forth. “Not welcome here!”

  “This place belongs to you?” Dungias asked. Almost immediately he felt the sentiment of duplicity and the creature nodded to the affirmative.

  “He knows you’re lying!” a voice echoed throughout the area. “You must kill him!”

  “Alpha?”

  “I detect nothing in the way of life-force manipulation or any of the Energies we have ever encountered,” the Osamu answered. “But I am registering fear in the voice. I would conclude that it is merely an assumption.”

  “I concur,” Dungias muttered, watching the figure grind its feet against the ground. “And I think that voice said exactly what was needed to in order to goad our latest acquaintance into another attack.”

  “Which will probably be faster than the last,” Alpha added as the creature’s solid yellow eyes squinted and it bared its razor sharp teeth. “Apparently it is a carnivore.”

  “No,” Dungias said, turning his left shoulder to the creature and engaging the Star-Stride. “Look more closely. The teeth, the speed, even the clawed tentacles hiding behind its back. All of these are addendums; this is not the creature’s true form.

  “And it is not practiced in matters of combat,” Dungias thought, stepping to his right while lowering his head and lifting his left arm into the chest of the creature. Several clawing attacks passed harmlessly over the Traveler as the torso of the creature was brought to a near stop. The legs, for the most part, kept running and the momentum made it so that the creature landed hard on its back. The impact could have been more punishing, but Dungias had absorbed most of the creature’s kinetic energy on contact. He returned that energy to the lobe of the brain responsible for conscious thought. The creature convulsed before falling unconscious.

  “It would seem that if you want me dead,” Dungias shouted, “… you will need to be more responsible for your own desires… or find another puppet to do your bidding. While you are making your decision, I will see to my desires.” Dungias turned and walked to his destination.

  Upon entering the construct, the Traveler could feel the power he had detected earlier. The walls of the construct were especially good at containing energy, and now his cloak served as protection from more than being seen or the harshness of the elements. It was not a normal sort of building. There were no corridors, the entirety of the building was dedicated to a massive single chamber with a rather impressive looking – and feeling – centerpiece.

  “And there it is,” Dungias thought, looking upon a fountain of white, black, and silver starlight that flowed up from the ground and into what must be some kind of aperture, as he had not seen anything above the building from the outside. He settled himself and extended his senses once more. The effort had only just been initiated when he heard laughter echoing through the chamber. Looking around for the source of the sound, Dungias caught sight that the door through which he had entered was no longer there. “Yet I felt no shifting,” Dungias thought.

  “And what are you looking for?” the voice asked in perfect Liangu which sounded almost like music to Dungias’ ears.

  “I was curious to know if there was an attendant to this facility,” Dungias replied in his native tongue. “With what I was told I could find here, it seemed a reasonable expectation.”

  “And if I were to judge you based on the weapons you have brought with you?” the voice asked. “Would I be within my right to destroy you?”

  “I cannot speak to the rights you observe, for I do not know them,” Dungias replied. “You know the language of my people, do you also know of its culture?”

  “And if I do?”

  “Then your question would have been just how close to the ideals of the Malgovi do I trek,” Dungias explained. “Were the worlds of mortals more organized, I would only wear weapons on the occasions dedicated to such actions and measures. As it happens, the exercising of free will and the application of various perspectives creates a chaos within the order of the Cosmos.”

  “Some would say the Cosmos is chaos,” the voice contended.

  “I have heard such pr
oclamations.”

  “And… what say you to them?”

  “A very interesting shift in the conversation,” Dungias thought, continuing his sweep of the chamber.

  “From my perspective, I find them to be short-sighted,” he answered. “The Cosmos is the thing which created us, we did not create it, and as such we can make so little of an impact on it. What it does we seldom understand and can barely anticipate. It has been my experience that most statements of cosmic chaos are more based within personal perspective and emotion than they are substantiated by facts.”

  “Why are you here?” the voice asked, though the tone had changed. The voice sounded older and the words seemed to caress Dungias, almost embracing him in warmth and comfort.

  “I am a Star Chaser, dispatched by a starling on a quest,” Dungias stated. “The Stars of the Rims are in need of assistance. Most are not awakened, and the Anchored Stars are in contrast to their normal nature. Eesa has asked me to come to this place… she told me that I could procure a star-pod here.”

  An orb of light came out of the upward stream of stars and hovered over the stones that served as the shore from the celestial geyser. “Did she now?” the voice Dungias had been speaking with came from the orb, but the Traveler could perceive so much more than sound. He could feel sentience; an intelligence unencumbered by time and space. It existed before those definitions, and it was anxious to speak with Dungias. “I can see her light inside you, Z’Gunok Tel Dungias, Master Traveler, Savior of his Vu-Prin, the Malgovi… the Vinthur… the BroSohnti… and the Seven. Master of The Campus… First Mate, first gun, first blade, and first mind to JoJo Starblazer… and yes, of course… Star Chaser! Would you prefer if I call you Z?”

  “It is a name I have grown accustomed to hearing,” Dungias replied. “The more I hear it, the more I am reminded of my friend and my Captain.”

  “And thus your zeal to maintain the Cutter-bar is refueled, isn’t it?” the orb asked.

  “Among other things, yes,” Dungias admitted.

  “It would seem that your instincts are strong, Z,” the orb said, coming further away from the stream of light. “For I am the attendant of this chamber and through me is the means to procure a star-pod. But I can only send you to the place where you will find them.

  “In order for a mortal to walk away from this place with a star-pod, that entity must confront the Astral Worms. Through the stream is the only way you can reach them.” Dungias’ brow drew tight over his eyes. He had searched the chamber to the limits of his perception and found that he was center stage in the midst of a thousand souls, all swirling around him, much like a Chorus of the Stars.

  “The only way,” Dungias repeated, closing his eyes. Ascension normally came with a feeling that he was leaving his body, but on this occasion, it felt as if his entire being simply departed from the dimension the chamber called home. Now he was in a place that greatly resembled another chamber in the InterVoid; where he had stood trial, charged with the crime of destroying Kiaplyx. But there was no Borsidia of the Prel’Dethiak, no Kyonn of the Orov, and certainly no Nes posing as his advocate while the fate of his life was debated. Here all those that were seated were Malgovi, but their clothes were unlike what passed for the fashion of his people.

  “So, duplicity is not beyond the attendant of the chamber,” Dungias stated.

  “Should it be?” a chorus of voices asked, but none of the mouths of the Malgovi watchers moved. “Do you not also engage in falsehoods in order to gauge questionable persons?”

  “I do,” Dungias nodded. “I do, however, try to limit the application of that gauging so that, pass or fail, the entity is as alive as when I encountered them.”

  “That is a truth, Traveler,” the voices replied. “And a very strong truth as well. Behold!” Just as quickly as it had formed in front of his eyes, the massive room faded and Dungias found himself floating in astral space. It was somewhat relaxing, but he hoped he would not be ‘rescued’ by another sphere-shaped spacecraft.

  “You should be so fortunate,” a voice called to him through the void. Dungias’ eyes gaped wide at the sight of the creature as it flew under him. It was clear why they had come to be called worms, as their bodies were much like that of a flatworm that was beige in color with swirls of pink or purple that blended into the skin. Along the underbelly, Dungias could see an incandescent fin that started under the chin, resembling a goatee. Where it was attached at the body, the fin was solid and bronze. The further away from the body, the more it blended into a white, veil-like skin composed of closely formed crystals that remained in place due to a power Dungias could not see and could barely feel. The fin became three star-tipped tails.

  “The head of it is three times the size of the Xara-Mansura,” Dungias thought as he watched the gigantic form swim through the astral void.

  “At least, I would think,” the Astral Worm replied as the patches of color glowed a bright violet light. “At least in this form.” Dungias could see the creature possessed a single eye in the middle of its head. It was veiled so he could not see it, but he could feel when the creature’s stare was on his person. Three more worms flew by, each one trailing a thin strand of light. Three more flew in patterns perpendicular to the first three and Dungias could see that the strands were about to be woven into some kind of formation. He was amazed to see that done with light, and had to be brought back into the moment and away from observing the work of the other Astral Worms.

  “A star-pod?” the worm asked as it approached. “That is a very powerful device, Traveler.”

  “From what I understand of it, I would agree,” Dungias responded. “But this is not for me, it is for a newly awakened Star.”

  “Yes, you mentioned Eesa before,” the Astral Worm stated. “We are familiar with her light and it is clear that she trusts you, Traveler. But how can you know to trust us?”

  “If I should be given something other than what I seek, expect me to return once the truth has been revealed to me,” Dungias stated.

  “Are you threatening us, Traveler?”

  “Failing one of your falsehood tests would be most disagreeable,” Dungias returned sharply. The Astral Worm gazed at the Traveler for a moment before light sparked from its belly-fin. The creature curled up in a ball as the light quickly covered its body. The light covered the transformation to a much smaller curled form that straightened out as a chamber formed around Dungias. He could hear the walls, floor and ceiling locking into place as the hominoid form touched down on the floor tiles.

  “I sincerely doubt you have failed many tests, Star Chaser,” Dier-Nesekor said as his Chancellor robes formed around his body.

  “Nes?!” Dungias gasped.

  “Now that I will take as a compliment,” Nes said with a smirk, but he quickly closed his eyes and waved off Dungias’ conclusions. “… but I cannot allow you to proceed any further down that road. I am not an Astral Worm.”

  “You are not?!”

  “I am sure you remember the Ulti-Mind that the Savanté used,” Nes said with a soft smile. “Well, I am something like that, only here I am called an Astral Eye. While my masters see to the texture of the astral realm, it is my task to keep matters within the realm within acceptable parameters of creation and entropy. The Tribunal of Chancellors is merely one tool used to keep things in line.”

  “Even if the other Chancellors are unaware of what you really are,” Dungias added.

  “Even if,” Nes said confidently. “Would you have preferred something like what the Malgovi have established? Something along the lines of a monarchy, perhaps?”

  “The solution is never found in the form,” Dungias returned. “While I have love, faith, and respect for what my Queen has done and will do, she follows behind a throne that allowed for the BroSohnti to be used in a manner I would have thought was beyond our capacity to inflict.”

  Nes shook his head in disgust, placing his hands on his hips. “That’s not a thought, Traveler, that is a volunt
arily-blinded hope. You want to believe your people to be beyond such measures and yet you stand here, shay-spawn! The very fact that there is a term for you demonstrates that capacity. Your love for your people is what keeps you blinded!” Nes sighed, turning his back to Dungias. He had to reconsider his position and his actions. Had he moved too soon? And since the move had already been made, could he limit the fallout from what had been a poorly made decision?

  Dungias lowered his head, closing his eyes. The pain of Nes’ words ran through him and it found the tucked away pockets of fear, pain, and contempt; all leveled at his people. From the complete stranger to those who shared his blood, the Malgovi and the Vinthur confused Dungias, but not so great was the tumultuousness of his thoughts that the images of Laylaria, Nugar, Danatra, Guyn, Onkorro, Kynsada, Berylon, Sarukannah, Jocasta, and Persephone did not fail to give him strength and direction. Smiling, he came to realize that they were living examples of the perfect retort.

  “You are correct,” Dungias admitted, and it was the tone of his voice that gave Nes pause. It was filled with a depth of understanding that the Astral Eye needed. “But it is also love that gives me vision. I will not abandon that love. Still, it is clear I must endeavor to find a greater understanding of myself.”

  “Then complete your answer,” Nes directed, daring to hope. “You said, ‘the solution is never found in the form’, and then we took a tangent. Please, finish your thought.”

  “People are flawed… and thusly, anything they create has the same capacity for imperfection,” Dungias started. “If they lose sight of their imperfections, they close their mind to the possibility of error which is the worst mistake to make. More to your original inquiry, it would not matter what form of governing you decide to implement, but the people you chose to look after it. It is there where you will find success and failure.”

  “And what have I found, Traveler?” Nes asked, looking over his shoulder.

  “Both,” Dungias answered, as something within him stirred. He frowned at the thoughts entering his mind, but he was able to speak and finish his delivery. “Though it seems that they are becoming unequal in proportion.”