by S. G. Basu
“What I’m about to say isn’t about a specific person or a particular people, but about a situation we face together.”
Hans paused briefly as if to collect his thoughts.
“Two days ago, an envoy from the Xifarian Senate requested an audience with our governments. Some leaders of the Solianese Houses and our premier’s office met with them right away. It wasn’t a very long meeting, or one with a pleasing outcome.” Hans stopped once more.
The silence that swooped in now felt unbearable. No one batted an eyelid; no one even breathed. For a moment, darkness descended around Maia, making everything distant and unreal.
“What did they say?” Dani asked.
“That . . . is the most intriguing part,” Hans said, his eyebrows furrowed deep. “I‘ve never heard of anything so strange in my life, it almost seems impossible to believe.
“The envoy said that we, the people of Tansi, are responsible for the loss of a valuable artifact, something that has impaired their planet beyond imagination. And unless we restore the item to them along with the unconditional surrender of the Resistance, whom they believe to be the mastermind behind the theft, there would be no helping us. We have three hundred days to comply and after that there will be a siege.”
“A siege?” Nafi asked.
Maia felt a wave of dread sweep through her, the rush threatening to stop her heart. She feared what Hans was going to say next. Somehow, she knew it had something to do with her mother. She did not want to hear it. Yet she had to ask, she had to know.
“What is this artifact?” Maia asked hesitantly.
“Something that resides in the heart of the Sedara, that’s all I know. We were not told exactly what it was and how or when it was taken. All we were told is that Xif lies broken because of this, and we, the people of Tansi, are collectively responsible for it.”
Maia sat frozen, the terrifying burden clamping tightly over her throbbing heart. She alone knew the hopeless truth—there was no returning that artifact, because Sophie had destroyed it. A cold nervousness coiled at the pit of her stomach as she saw the gloom in everyone’s eyes.
Next to her, Ren shook his head vigorously. “That’s impossible,” he exclaimed. “The only thing that resides within the Sedara is the Verto-balancer Capsule and it makes no sense . . .”
Hans leaned forward as Ren’s words trailed off. “What’s the Verto-balancer Capsule?” Hans asked.
“And why doesn’t it make any sense?” Kusha probed.
Ren sat up straight, took a bracing breath, and faced his audience.
“The Verto-balancer Capsule is comprised of a chalice that envelops a core of light. No one knows much about how it actually works, but it’s part of the mechanism that channels the energy of the neighboring star into the Sedara, making it mimic the day and night patterns of the system we are visiting. Not only is it next to impossible to access the Capsule, but the Capsule is not something one could simply pick up and walk away with. And as I understand, the Resistance is nothing more than a ragtag band of rebels who could have no possible way to get into Xif, let alone breach the Sedara.”
Eyes grew wider and brows shot up. Ren spoke again, sensing the lingering questions around him.
“You see, only a handful of Xifarians know anything more about the Capsule than the fact that it exists. You can imagine how few actually know how to reach it. It’s not a place that anyone, let alone someone other than an extremely highly ranked Xifarian, could even think of accessing.
“And then, this is not just any object—it’s a living entity like the L’miere crystals. You can’t simply take it away—it would kill you if you were even in its presence, such is its power. That’s why I don’t see how anyone could steal it, and that’s why it doesn’t make sense.”
“Do you mean that this claim might be untrue?” Hans asked.
Ren turned away abruptly and stared into the darkness outside the glass atrium.
“Sorry, Ren,” Hans said immediately. “Didn’t mean to offend you.”
“No, it’s not that.” Ren flashed a quick half-smile. “I was just thinking about what you asked, and it reminded me of something I’ve always wondered. It’s unusual that we’ve stayed so long in the Tansian system. Xif has been flying through galaxies for centuries, and the longest we’ve been in one system until now is about fifteen years. Our time in the Tansian system is close to thirty years. I’d figured it was because we still had unfinished business here on Tansi, but now I wonder if it’s because something stopped us from leaving.”
“Like the loss of the Capsule?” Kusha asked. “You mean, the Capsule gives Xif the power to fly?”
Ren shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe? I mean, I don’t see anything else broken on Xif. But anyway, the point is no one from Tansi could’ve ever done it.”
“But, wait a moment.” Nafi interrupted, waving her arms wildly. “What about this siege, Hans? Do you mean the Xifarians will attack us or something if we don’t return this artifact?”
“Yes, in a way, they will,” Hans replied in a calm, deliberate tone. “We were told, in no uncertain terms, that the energy curfews we had been hearing about were not true. It would be far more than that—it would be a total and complete withdrawal of support. The Xifarians will stop giving us the energy we need to survive.”
17: Burdened
Maia had never been a devious child. She had been taught to value honesty over everything else, but that was until she found out about her mother Sophie. She had spent every moment since trying to avoid facing her past, and the effort was exhausting. For a long time, Maia thought her mother was a traitor and she was ashamed. That changed when she received Sophie’s message a few weeks ago. But while her opinion of her mother had transformed, Maia realized nothing had changed about her need for secrecy. The burden of knowing that her mother had been the one to destroy the heart of the Sedara, an act that stranded the Xifarians’ traveling planet, was no lighter.
As the wave of murmurs rose around Maia, as theories and counter-theories flew among the friends keen to understand the unfortunate situation, she sat dumbfounded and sad. She wanted to tell them about Sophie—her heart ached to say everything about herself and her mother, but she could not bring herself to speak the words. And with every moment that passed, the opportunity slipped slowly through her fingers.
“Maia.” Someone nudged her rather forcefully. “You all right?”
Dani was staring at her, a worried look clouding her face. Maia nodded fast, desperate to hide once more. The murmur around her had now grown into a loud chatter.
“Well, there’s not much we can do right now.” Hans tried to calm the excited group. “We’ll learn more about this in time, and I’ll let you know as I hear more. However, be careful discussing the matter. Not only is this a confidential issue, but Aerika does not condone talk of politics among her students.”
“Bones doesn’t condone anything,” Nafi said, scowling. “She would rather have some mindless zombies as her students.”
Hans chuckled, and the rest of the group nodded vigorously in agreement. Soon after, he herded the team toward the dormitories and went his way.
The girls’ room was quiet; the other three seemed fast asleep after the long day. Maia slipped into her bed as noiselessly as she could. But while Dani and Nafi seemed to drift off to sleep quickly, Maia lay awake staring into the darkness. The newest nightmare came not too long afterward.
The dark expanse of the room lay in front of her. There was no movement or sound except for her breathing. Her footsteps were hesitant, feeble, and awkward. She was looking for something, but she did not know what. She saw nothing but the unseeing darkness. Then there was the flicker.
A small flame came to life at the farthest corner of the room. She gasped, and tried to push herself backward. In front of her, one spark of light grew into thousands, and they crackled and danced in a timeless rhythm all across the back of the room. She had to call for help, but not a sound escaped
her mouth. The light was intense as the flames raced across the floor toward her. But even as they engulfed her, she could not run. The heat overpowered her senses, and she simply stood there, sweat and tears trickling down her face, her heart beating fast and furious. She closed her eyes tightly as the wall of fire swept over her.
Maia woke with a violent jolt as the weight of her nightmare threatened to bury her. She sat up in her bed shaking, her body drenched in sweat. She breathed heavily, inhaling the cold air in quick, short gasps. Nothing stirred around her; the sound of soft, peaceful breathing was all Maia could hear. The memory of the fire refused to budge.
Unable to clear her mind, Maia shuffled out of bed. Grabbing her coat from the top of her trunk, she tiptoed out of the room and into the dimly lit corridor. All was quiet. Maia wrapped the coat around her, slipping her hands into the well-worn pockets. She had taken a few steps toward the atrium when her right hand touched something small, hard and cold. Stopping abruptly, she dug out the object—a small ring with a central black stone surrounded by small white ones. Ruche’s ring! She slowly slipped the ring on her right index finger and it fit perfectly, as if it were made for her. She took a moment to admire the subdued glitter of the stones before heading down the stairs.
The atrium looked gloomy in the faint light. Maia walked toward the benches, hoping that watching the waters would calm her mind a little. The dark waters swirled outside. In them, a thousand murky shapes swam relentlessly. Maia was staring vacantly at the indistinct forms when the right side of the window darkened. A shape, dark and enormous, loomed in the shadows. Maia could tell a streak of white among the black and a pair of large, gleaming eyes that seemed to watch Maia as she peered. Something beckoned her to take a closer look. She walked to the curved pane, kneeled in front of it, and squinted hard.
The bulky size can only mean a whale. But that’s . . . impossible.
The whales in the Tansian oceans had long been extinct, first hunted for sport until their numbers dwindled to just a handful. Later, when the Northern Waters warmed up, the remaining few perished. Maia had barely touched the glass with her hands when the noise of footsteps marching across the floor made her turn around.
18: Old Acquaintances
Two young men and an attractive girl with curly red hair, wearing the black uniforms of the Xifarian Defense Services, had stepped out of the elevator. They stopped abruptly on seeing Maia, and then the girl strode swiftly in her direction.
“You’re Maia,” the girl said on nearing the benches where Maia was crouched. “Am I right?”
Maia nodded as her eyes flitted from one face to another. The red-haired girl, Amanii, had been the mentor of Core 7 in the Xifarian phase. The heftier of the two boys sported a wide smile—Maia recognized him as the one who had broken up the brawl Maia and her teammates had had with Lex’s group on Xif. The third person, who seemed to drag himself reluctantly forward, was none other than Maia’s own mentor from the Xifarian phase, Miir. He looked distracted, his pale face looked paler, and his dark eyes scanned the atrium with the intensity of a warrior in battle. Maia’s eyes lingered a moment too long on his neurogenic interface, the triangular patch of gray metal that stretched from his left brow to cheek, which gave him access to memories from his ancestors.
“This is just too awesome,” Amanii exclaimed. “I can’t wait to see my gang. They’ve arrived here, right?”
Maia nodded again. She wondered what the Xifarian trio was doing in Zagran and how the Xifarian Defense Services could be allowed to walk the restricted floors of the UAAS.
“We should let these two catch up,” Amanii suggested brightly to the other boy. Maia could not think of a single thing she wanted to discuss with Miir. She hardly wanted Amanii and the other boy to leave.
“You should tell Maia about your token of D’stani,” Amanii declared, laughing as Miir frowned at her words. Maia recalled what Ren had told them about the token of D’stani—it was an honor given by the XDA to the year’s top graduate. Sophie, her mother, had also received it during her stint at the XDA.
Amanii rolled her eyes at Miir. “He’s student of the year, but it kills him to tell anyone about it.”
Maia watched Miir’s compatriots leave, turning toward him only after they were gone. She found him observing her, his sharp gaze scrutinizing her face. For a moment they stared at each other, and then Maia looked away hastily. She struggled to find a topic for conversation. Her mind drew a blank.
Silent moments passed awkwardly.
This is ridiculous. There has to be something we can talk about.
The last time Maia had seen Miir was right after Yoome, the R’armimon assassin, had attacked Maia and Ren at the Star Sanctuary on Xif in a supposed assassination attempt on Miir’s father, the Xifarian chancellor. Miir had fought long and hard to save them that day.
Maybe I can thank him for—
“What are you doing here?” Miir broke the silence in the gruffest possible way.
“I should ask you that,” Maia retorted as she got to her feet. “I’m here for the Jjordic phase, but why are you here?”
She expected him to at least scowl, but he did nothing of the sort.
“I am an apprentice of the Scientific Defense Services. A part of its commitment is to oversee the Initiative and make sure it proceeds safely. But when I asked you about being here, I meant about being out here in the atrium, alone and at this late hour,” he said in a manner that did not befit the Miir she knew. “It is not safe for . . . you to be here on your own.”
“Why?” Maia did not understand why she should be afraid while she was here in Zagran, of all places. Appian was a different matter altogether; there was little to stop someone from harming anyone if they chose so. But the Jjordic colonies, with their elaborate security systems, were supposed to be safe. “What should I be afraid of here?”
Miir frowned. It was not the angry, impatient frown that Maia was used to seeing, but a worried, thoughtful one. He seemed to try hard to choose the right words.
“You have not forgotten about Yoome, have you?” His voice was a hush. “Those people are not to be trifled with. You should be very watchful.”
He means the R’armimon.
“What’s that got to do with anything now?” Maia asked.
Miir stared for a while. Maia felt a hesitation in his eyes, as if he was trying to decide whether to be annoyed at her answer or laugh at her ignorance. He ended up doing neither.
“You do understand that she was there for you, right?” he asked solemnly.
Maia’s heart skipped a beat. She had thought about that possibility before; it was a particularly nagging doubt after she had received the message from Sophie. But Maia had pushed away the fears—it was all too fantastic to believe that the R’armimon would be looking specifically for her. Now, hearing it from Miir of all people meant something else altogether.
“Why do you say that?” she asked, her voice trembling a little. “I thought we were just in her way, Ren and I. The real target was—”
“My father? No, she was planning to use her Extractor on you,” he said, almost rushing through the words. “Had she been after my father, she could have just hurt you enough to make you unconscious, like she did with Ren. She did not, because she had precise plans for you.”
“But she said she was going to deal with both of us.” Maia did not want to believe she was the target. “She happened to pick me first.”
“I do not think so,” Miir replied calmly. “Think about it . . . if you were trying to best a foe, who would you deal with first? I would pick the one who poses the most threat to me. Ren tried to resist, yet Yoome deemed him secondary. Even when he was unconscious and would have made an easy prey, she chose to come after you. And there has to be some reason behind it.”
Maia did not quite understand. She did not want to understand. Her mind raced to remember something else.
“Why did you ask us to lie to your father? You asked us not to tell him
that Yoome fought us for such a long time. Why?” she said, crossing her arms and standing as tall as she could to meet his gaze. “You know what your father thought? He thought that I was somehow involved in this plot to assassinate him.”
Miir shifted uneasily and his face twisted into a grimace. His eyes flashed briefly with the old, familiar rage.
“What choice did I have?” he hissed. “Do you know what they would have done to you had my father suspected that the R’armimon was in fact after you? Do you have any idea?”
“They wouldn’t come after my people, at least. Innocent people will now be accused of this assassination plot,” Maia snapped back. “I could’ve tried to explain.”
Miir’s sarcastic laughter tore a jagged path through Maia’s heart.
“You think he would listen to you? Had he known Yoome was after you, you would be taken into custody, and neither your claims of innocence nor any explanation could have stopped that,” he said. “You would have ended up in the Gnelexian chambers, and after they had finished with their probes, you would be no more than a mindless, soulless shell. But then, I guess you could have handled it all just as easily as you handle everything else. You always know the best, don’t you?”
Maia simply stared, half-understanding and half-dazed at his harsh words.
“If you are still keen on becoming the hero for your people, it is not too late,” Miir continued, still unforgiving and ruthless. “When you want to face the Gnelexians, let me know. I will surely receive a medal of honor if I hand you over to the authorities.”
Maia slumped on the bench. There was so little she understood. She did not know what the R’armimon wanted from her; she did not even know who these dreaded Gnelexians were. She stole a glance at Miir. His face was taut, brows knitted in a deep frown. He would likely snap at her, but Maia needed to ask.
