by S. W. Ahmed
Sharjam shook his head. “Listen to me, Raiha! This mission isn’t going to be anything like our playful adventures on Meenjaza. No Aftaran has ever traveled through a consar before. We’ll have to rely on the Mendoken, who themselves haven’t yet perfected consar technology. If we ever make it to the other side, wherever that might be, we have no idea what awaits us there. There may be trillions of those aliens with sophisticated weapons, waiting to pulverize us the moment we show our faces. From a statistical point of view, it’s a downright foolhardy mission.”
“So why are you going, then?”
“Because I have to. After what Wazilban did to our father, Dumyan and I have to defend the honor of our family and our clan. We must bring Wazilban to justice, or die trying.”
Raiha’s expression turned both sour and sad. “And what about my honor? If I go with you and help you bring Wazilban to justice, I can finally establish a good reputation in front of your family and clan. Then they’ll be more inclined to accept me one day as your wife.”
“Of course! And that’s precisely why I need you to take on another mission yourself, one that’s just as important for my family and clan. Considering the upheaval that will undoubtedly rock the Dominion now that Wazilban has been exposed, you are the only one Dumyan and I can trust to take this on while we’re gone. And if anything should happen to Dumyan and me, our family and clan will always remain in good hands as long as they’re in yours.”
“You sure you want to come along? I think you need more time to recover.”
“I will be fine, Marc,” Sibular insisted, his voice back to its old self again. “I just needed a new balancing system.”
“Well, that and this shiny new armor you have, my man!” Zorina chimed in.
The three friends were back inside the Mendoken Aima-11 ship. Like Raiha, Zorina was fully recovered now, and Sibular was well on his way to getting better. He had been brought back to the ship in the nick of time, just as his consciousness had begun fading for good. The doctors had spent a good hour operating on him, which in the world of Mendoken medicine was an eternity. Fortunately, as it usually was with Mendoken medical interventions, the operation had been completely successful.
A couple of hours had passed since the disappearance of Wazilban and his alien associates through the consar, but the consar’s entrance still remained open. Due to the strong gravitational pull of the black hole behind, it was now bent back at its edges and stretched into more of a square shape.
“Wazilban clearly didn’t take the black hole’s presence into account when he planned his escape,” Marc thought, as the three friends left the medical facility on a vehicle and headed towards one of the hangars on the outer edge of the ship. “But then, Wazilban probably didn’t expect to have to escape at this time and at this location.” This was good news, because it probably meant that Wazilban didn’t know the consar entrance on this side was still open, and thus wasn’t expecting anyone to follow him.
Of course, nobody had a clue where the consar led to or what was waiting at the other end. Mendoken scientists on board the ship had already tried using their sophisticated tracing instruments to plot the entire path of the consar, but so far had failed. None of the probing signals sent by the instruments had been able to make it back out of the consar. The conclusion – the only way to find out where this consar led was for someone to travel through it.
The Aftarans didn’t have any consar technology, nor did they have much scientific knowledge of what consars were really about. After consultation with the Aftarans, the Imgoerin had therefore taken the decision to send a Mendoken scout ship through the consar for a reconnaissance mission. Fortunately the Aima-11 vessel was carrying a number of scout ships and fighter vessels equipped with consar travel capability. This was something the Imgoerin had insisted on before leaving the Republic for the Dominion, just in case they were attacked by the Volona en route. The technology, while still far from perfect, had recently been enhanced to avoid a repeat of the tragic incident at Volo-Gaviera.
In order for the mission to remain inconspicuous and agile, however, only one scout ship was to go through the consar. And Marc, Sibular and Zorina were determined to be on it. This journey would perhaps be their most perilous yet, but none of them were deterred by the dangers that lay ahead.
The vehicle arrived in the hangar and stopped in front of the consar equipped ship. It was a standard Sil-5 scout ship, shaped somewhat like a supersonic jetfighter with a sturdy wing on each side, two slanted tails in the back, and a main tube-like body. Overall, it was probably no bigger than a Boeing 737 airplane, Marc guessed, although it definitely looked a lot sleeker.
The three friends descended from the vehicle and joined a group of individuals standing in front of the craft. Several Mendoken troopers and Aftaran soldiers were there, as were Dumyan, Sharjam, Osalya and the Imgoerin himself.
The Imgoerin greeted the three newcomers. “Welcome. Both my people and the Aftar owe you tremendous gratitude for exposing this conspiracy in the nick of time, a conspiracy that has haunted the Dominion and the whole galaxy for so long. I do not fully comprehend how you were able to see through the disguise of these aliens, Mr. Zemin, nor do I understand the enchantment that Sharjam enacted to give the rest of us that same vision. What I do know is what I saw and heard, and it is clear to me that these aliens are highly organized and committed to their cause. Whatever their intentions, they have a long term agenda, and I think it unlikely they will have given up so easily. They will be back, and likely in greater numbers. We must figure out when, how and why, so that we can defend ourselves and perhaps even strike first. That is the purpose of this mission.”
The Imgoerin paused for a moment, before continuing. “I can understand why the Aftarans here want to risk their lives for this mission. They have personally suffered immeasurable losses because of these aliens. But why you three?”
Zorina spoke first. “Respected Imgoerin, I want this war and enmity between my people and yours to end, once and for all. My people are not behind the consar attacks on the Republic. I’m convinced these aliens are behind it, and I plan to prove it.”
“I am beginning to feel the same way,” the Imgoerin said. “And I look forward to the evidence you bring back.”
“Respected Imgoerin, I just want to see this conspiracy completely unveiled, especially considering my somewhat inexplicable involvement in unveiling its top layer,” Marc said.
“Understood, Mr. Zemin,” the Imgoerin said. “What about you, Sibular? I would hate to lose such a fine engineer as you to this dangerous mission. You have demonstrated remarkable skill and courage over the past few weeks. The entire Republic is in your debt.”
“I thank you for the kind words, respected Imgoerin,” Sibular said. “I am the resident space travel and consar expert. I believe it only makes sense for me to join my friends on this mission, in case they encounter issues getting into or out of the consar.”
“He used the word ‘friends’!” Marc thought. For a Mendoken to use that word was downright unreal. Perhaps all the time Sibular had spent with a human and a Volonan had caused a few of their traits to rub off on him.
Marc then walked up to Dumyan and Sharjam, who were getting ready to enter the scout ship. “Where’s Raiha?” he asked. “Is she alright?”
“She’s fine,” Sharjam said. “But she won’t be joining us on this mission. Instead, she’s leaving for the remote system of Afta-Johran, to bring our father and his followers back to Meenjaza. She will also free the High Clerics from their prison on Meenjaza.”
“You’re certain they’ll all be safe on Meenjaza?” Marc asked.
“Certain? No. Everything lies in the hands of the Creator. But now that the public knows the truth about Wazilban, we’re starting to get reports from the nearest star systems that many Aftarans want our father reinstated as their supreme leader. All the Aftaran soldiers here have already pledged their allegiance to him.” Sharjam grinned. “By the will of t
he Creator, after all this time, the honor of our family and our clan will finally be restored!”
The scout ship took off and sped out of the hangar, leaving its Aima-11 mother ship and a well wishing Imgoerin and Osalya behind. On board were the Mendoken pilot, six Mendoken troopers and six Aftaran soldiers, all of them handpicked due to their high ranks and noteworthy reputations. Accompanying them were Marc, Sibular, Zorina, Dumyan and Sharjam.
Due to their knowledge of and experience in flying through consars, Marc and Sibular had been chosen to accompany the pilot in the cockpit, where they watched over the consar instruments. Everybody else was in the main cabin behind, in between the stacks of surveillance equipment. Seats had been made available for all the non-Mendoken on board.
Marc watched as the pilot fearlessly maneuvered the ship toward the consar. He eyed the tunnel entrance ahead, now no more than tens of miles away. Its shape was almost completely square, with the four corners pulled way back and its middle section bulging out. Inside, the tunnel was ablaze in a big whirlpool of different colors, all flowing into the gaping hole in the middle. It looked quite scary, but he reminded himself that he had been through a consar once before.
As the ship approached the consar entrance, Sibular pressed an icon on the 3D screen above the consar instruments. The ship’s surface lit up right away in brilliant white, and a wide blue circle began forming around the ship. The blue circle grew in thickness, soon encompassing the entire ship in a sphere. To Marc, it was all too familiar.
Sibular and the pilot both dropped from their floating positions and locked the bottom of their encasings to the floor.
Marc held on with all his strength to his seat. “This is it, no more turning back,” he thought.
The sphere lunged forward into the tunnel. Marc instantly felt a tremendous force pushing him back into his seat. Like the last time, he could barely keep his eyes open, and felt he would pass out at any moment. Like the last time, however, he didn’t. The gravitational pull quickly subsided, allowing him to relax and open his eyes again. They had successfully entered the consar.
Through the lightly transparent sphere, he could see the wall of the tunnel, filled with random shapes of different colors, constantly changing shape and size. Bands of thin matter from a different dimension drifted through the tunnel, right through the sphere and through the ship, without causing any physical damage.
“Well, Sibular?” he asked.
“Unfortunately there is no more information than what we had before entering,” Sibular said, closely monitoring the data readouts on his screen. “The signal probes sent from our mother ship could have failed to return for a number of reasons, including interference from radiation from the supermassive black hole, or significant attenuation during consar entry or exit. But now that we are inside the consar, there is no reason why the signal probes I am sending out should not be able to return. Yet they are attenuating to negligible levels before reaching the end. This is surprising, because the signals are designed to easily traverse up to 2 million light years of equivalent space in our regular 3 dimensions.”
“You mean…?”
“We appear to have entered a very long consar, Marc.”
The minutes ticked by as the scout ship traveled through the consar. The minutes soon turned to hours, the hours to days. Outside, the tunnel had turned totally dark, and the bands of matter floating through the ship had become much thicker and more numerous. Still, there was no end in sight.
Marc, Zorina and the Aftarans on board tried to make the best of their cramped living conditions, taking advantage of little corners in the main cabin to set up camp where they could sit or sleep. Marc and Zorina were only too glad that the Aftarans had brought plenty of spicy food rations with them, just in case the journey turned out to be a long one. The two of them regularly joined the Aftarans every few hours for a meal in the rear of the craft.
The Mendoken troopers stayed alert and busy throughout, regularly monitoring the surveillance equipment for any activity. Sibular and the pilot remained in the cockpit, never once coming back to the main cabin.
As the days passed, the occupants of the ship grew more and more concerned about the distance they were covering. It soon became clear that, in the equivalent of their own 3 dimensions, they had traveled much farther than the entire width of the Glaessan galaxy and even the distance to the neighboring Andromeda galaxy. Nobody from the Glaessan galaxy had ever traveled this far before, nor had anyone spent this much time inside a consar. Some began to question if their bodies would somehow get permanently altered by the consar’s different dimensions, while others wondered if they would ever make it back home alive.
The uncertainty only kept growing, because nobody knew how much further the end of the consar was. Not a single one of Sibular’s signal probes had so far returned, and he was still sending out a new one every hour. Yet through it all, not a single one of the ship’s occupants expressed doubt about the mission or whether it was better to turn back. Everyone’s dedication to the cause was absolute.
And so was Marc’s. Regardless of the uncomfortable conditions on board, the length of the journey through unexplored dimensions or the possible dangers that lay ahead, he was determined to get to the bottom of this conspiracy. He was determined to find out why this had all happened, who was ultimately behind it, and what his role in all of it really was. Sure, he was the ‘Sign’ who had unveiled the conspiracy, but how deep did this conspiracy really run? Why had he of all gazillions of beings in the galaxy been picked for this cause? Who had picked him anyway? And how had he been given this capability to ‘see’ that which others couldn’t?
Dumyan and Sharjam hadn’t been able to provide him with the answers to these questions. Both of them had instead suggested that it would be best to ask the High Clerics directly upon their return. The High Clerics would most likely know some of the answers, but not all. The rest Marc would have to discover for himself, and the best way to do that would be to follow the conspirators until all was revealed. And so here he was, on that very quest.
During the meals, Marc spent a lot of time conversing with the Aftarans. The same soldiers he had earlier been battling with for his life were now sitting next to him, sharing food and friendly stories. All signs of enmity were gone.
“It’s amazing what a difference knowing the truth makes, especially when truth is on your side,” he thought.
He generally found the Aftarans on board to be very warm individuals, easy to talk to and get along with. While they were very religious and firm in their convictions, they were also highly knowledgeable, tolerant and understanding of others. He found the time he was spending with them to be quite refreshing and educational.
Over the days, Marc noticed that Sharjam seemed a little sad, spending a lot of time in solitude and often engaged in lengthy periods of meditation or prayer. On the seventh day, Marc finally mustered the courage to ask him what was wrong.
“It’s nothing,” Sharjam said, as Marc sat down next to him. “I’m apprehensive of what lies ahead, like everyone else here.”
Marc smiled. “I think I know you better than that by now, Sharjam. You’re not the kind to be afraid of danger, and definitely not the kind to be saddened by it.”
Sharjam sighed. “Ay, I suppose you’re right.” He was silent for a long moment, and then spoke softly. “But I am afraid. I’m afraid of what will happen to me and…” He paused again. “Let me ask you something, Marc. Have you ever had to give up something you truly treasured, something that meant everything to you, something without which you thought life would no longer have any meaning? Something you were forced to give up because you had no other choice?”
Marc was taken aback by the question. “Do you mean something, or… someone?”
Sharjam grinned, somewhat sheepishly. “Someone, I suppose.”
“Yes, I have.”
“And if you had the chance to turn back the clock, would you let it happen again?”
“Why? The circumstances would still be the same, wouldn’t they?”
“The circumstances maybe, but not my point of view. If I went back in time, I would know how lonely my life would be in the future without that individual, because I would already have lived that lonely life. Clearly I wouldn’t want to go through that life again, or else why would I have chosen to go back in time in the first place?”
“But if I changed the course of events to be with that someone, it would negatively affect many other things of importance, many of them beyond my control.”
Marc raised his eyebrows. “Ah! But it’s all about priorities, isn’t it? And considering what you know now, would you still give everything the same order of priority as you did back then?”
“No,” Sharjam admitted. “Probably not. But if I choose to be with that individual, it might hurt others who care about me and that individual. It could have societal repercussions for the reputations of both our families.”
“But wouldn’t the others who care about you and the other individual just want you both to be happy? Wouldn’t they understand if you two took a decision for your own happiness? If they really cared about you, wouldn’t they eventually learn to forgive you and learn to live with your decision? I mean, how bad can it be? You’re not torturing or killing anyone, or breaking any laws for that matter. Right?”
Sharjam said nothing. Instead, he stared out the window at the wall of the consar tunnel, seemingly deep in thought.
Marc sat there silently next to the tall Aftaran for a while, before speaking again. “You know, I once gave up my chance to be with the love of my life, because I didn’t fight for her as much as I should have. I backed away from confronting those who opposed our union, never even trying to address their grievances or gain their acceptance. So they won. Granted there were some things out of my control, like racial identity and cultural upbringing. But had I stuck it out and fought, I might have won. Or perhaps both sides could have won. But I just gave up and walked away. Years have passed since then, and I still miss her terribly. My life has never been the same since.
