“I’m sorry, I hope we didn’t startle you,” said Playa. “We saw you sneak out.”
“I wasn’t sneaking,” Sabira said.
“We know,” answered Playa. “It’s just that, well, we saw you leaving, not sneaking, and we thought that . . .”
“We thought that we haven’t had a chance yet to thank you properly,” said Zonte.
“We wanted to thank you for all you’ve done for us,” continued Playa, lightly caressing Sabira’s arm in a way that sent soft tingles up her spine and down her front.
Zonte mirrored the caress on her right arm. “You can come with us if you like. Orion gave us a cabin on the deck below, away from everyone else.”
“So we don’t have to worry about making too much noise or anyone bothering us,” added Playa.
Sabira the Servant would have been dragging the two pretty pillows halfway to their room by now. She wasn’t sure at all what Sabira the free should be doing. Her instinct was to wrap one in each arm and pull close, kiss them both at the same time, bathe herself in the warm, delicious heat of their bodies. But when she looked at their faces, it was not their inviting lips that drew her gaze but the Pillow glyph tattooed on their cheeks.
“You don’t have to do this,” Sabira said. “You’re not pillows anymore. I’m not a servant. Like I said, I’ll fight for all of you because we’re brood, because we need to help each other if we’re going to survive and be free, not to be rewarded for my service.”
“Of course we don’t have to,” said Zonte,
“We want to,” said Playa. “Not as a reward . . .” She leaned in and, soft as a feather stroke, kissed the corner of Sabira’s lips.
“But out of gratitude,” finished Zonte before leaning in to kiss just below her ear.
Sabira touched her hand to her tunic, feeling the remnants of her left breast through the cloth. “I’ve got scars,” she said.
“Who doesn’t?”
They were right about the cabin, no one bothered them at all and no one seemed to hear. After, as Sabira lay entangled in long, soft legs and strong, comforting arms, the tight knot she’d carried around all day in her throat, swelled, unraveled, and burst. She couldn’t hold back the tears a single breath longer. She cried, deeply but quietly, for a long time.
Playa and Zonte wept as well, which only seemed to bring more tears to her eyes, and they held each other closer. Eventually, the tears stopped, and sleep came over them, but no one let go of the others.
49.
THE SHATTERED GATES of Heaven loomed overhead, a blood-red scar across millions of kilometers of empty, black space. Dlamakuuz and the rest of the Av system receded into the star field below their feet, though still nearer and brighter than any other sun.
Per Sabira's request, Orion had tuned the forma walls of the ship’s commons to display the feed from the Shishiguchi’s sensors. Though similar to the observation deck of the Ihvik-Ri, the flat display and remaining non-forma furniture in the room lessened the immersive experience a bit. Even still, the view was stunning. They were a full shift out from the Gates, but Sabira planned on staying in the commons the whole time. Waiting and watching.
The others gathered in the commons with her, laughing at the sparkling beauty of stars wrapped all around. Awestruck at the mythic crimson nebula growing steadily larger above them. Everyone was there except Orion, who said he had some final preparations that required his full attention but would join them soon.
Orion had warned that, as they neared, all field tech needed to be shut down on the ship in order for him to be able to prime and calibrate the Gates. No inertial regulation, no artificial gravity, no warp bubbles, no stealth veils, and no shields. Just the ship’s propulsion constantly accelerating them toward the Gates so that it simulated gravity. Torque had explained to her that where they headed was feeling like up, where they came from was feeling like down. The ship’s continuous acceleration simulated a gravitational pull about two-thirds of Dlamakuuz.
Sabira and Torque sat back to back on the floor of the commons, gazing up at the glowing red expanse of dust and gas. Swirling tones of pink, mauve, and orange grew more and more distinct with their approach. Zonte and Playa held hands while spinning in circles, rapturous smiles on their pretty faces, lit by simulated starlight. Coraz and Derev sat on either side of Dawn on a long couch that molded itself to best support her and her ever-growing belly. Cal and Ed chased the eeshl all around the room, creating the illusion they were young gods leaping across the stars. Gabriel stood in the center, arms crossed, silently watching as they laughed and ran.
It was clear to Sabira that Gabriel remained unconvinced that bringing Edlashuul with them was the right choice.
The day after the funeral ceremony, Gabriel had gathered them all together in the commons and told them they needed to take Ed and the eeshl back to the Vleez.
“The battle for Dlamakuuz and the Av system is over, the Monarchy have won,” he said. “We’ve transmitted Orion’s cure for the Theocrats’ bioweapon to all the Vleez ships and outposts in the system. Thankfully, Edlashuul has fully recovered. And I’m afraid it’s time for you to be back with your own people. Where we’re going, there are no other Vleez, nor any other race of the Monarchy.”
Ed, still struggling with both Connish and Khvaziz, had a lem translate for him.
“—No, I don’t want to go back,” he said. “I want to stay with all of you. The eeshl does too.”
“I'm sorry, but you’re too young.”
“—But Cal . . .”
“Cal is with his own people. You’re too young to be taken and completely isolated from your people, your culture. It would be cruel to keep you with us.”
“—I didn’t have any people before any of you showed up. And now everyone in Glish is dead anyway. Let me stay, please.”
“Edlashuul, I’m sorry, but you don’t know what you’re asking. You can’t understand how completely and utterly alien you will feel in a Constellation world. You may never see another Vleez. Never again taste the fruits of Dlamakuuz. Never again join in the dusk song. Or even speak your language with another native speaker. You’re just too young to know what that will mean, what kind of life that will be.”
“We’ll all be aliens, though, won’t we?” said Playa. “Even if our ancestors are the same, we look so different.”
“Your culture is just as bizarre and alien to us as the Vleez,” said Zonte. “Maybe even more so.”
“Ed had nothing at all when we caught him sneaking in the Embassy that night,” said Coraz. “He’ll have even less if we send him back. He’s right about Glish. We all saw the fires.”
“This is all true,” replied Gabriel. “But you will have each other. You will have a shared experience and culture and language to comfort and support one another. Edlashuul will have none of that.”
“But Ed will have us,” said Sabira. “We may not be ideal, but Ed is just as much a part of our brood as any of us.”
“Look, if Ed is glitching on life planetside once we get back, he’s always welcome to crew the Shishiguchi,” offered Orion. He presented himself as an image on the wall, reclining upon a giant, blue flower. “So if Ed wants to stay, he can stay. When else is an orphan boy-alien going to get a chance to see the galaxy?”
“Orion, I don’t think that is wise,” said Gabriel.
“Well I appreciate the input Emissary, I do,” Orion replied. “But I’ve run the simulations. Ed’s got a better chance with us than he does back in that war zone. And remember, we have our accord. In the Embassy you make the rules. On my ship, my rules. Ed and the eeshl can stay aboard the Shishiguchi as long as they like.”
“—I can stay?” asked Ed, his sense tendrils perking up.
“—Of course you can stay,” Orion answered in Vleezian. The lem switched over to translate the conversation into Khvaziz. “—And don’t worry. I’ll get a more comfortable cabin for you soon. Promise.”
E
d and the eeshl were living in the tertiary airlock with a regulator tuned to recreate Dlamakuuzian atmosphere. That way they could at least sleep and eat without wearing respirator masks.
“I’m glad you’re going to stay with us, Ed,” offered Dawn, gently rubbing her belly. “I think that it’s great these little mine— babies, that my babies will get a chance to play with you and the eeshl. But are you sure this is what you want? Leaving your home?”
“—I’m sure.”
“Well then, I’ll send an official dispatch informing the Monarchy of our decision,” said Gabriel. He squeezed Ed’s narrow shoulder in his big hand before walking out of the room.
“Meeting’s over then,” said Orion, his image slowly dissolving into the wall. “If you need anything, just let me know.”
“Orion, wait,” said Sabira, rising to her feet. “I wanted to ask you something. For a while now, truthfully.”
Orion’s image ceased its fade out, became fully opaque again. “What’s crunchy?” he asked.
“You’re crunchy, I suppose,” she said haltingly.
“Why thanks, that’s very sweet of you.”
“Wait.” Sabira tried to get her bearing on the conversation. “What I mean to say is—there’s just never been a good time to ask this before—but what are you? In the Embassy, Maia said you were syncing down from the ship into the lems. When you were showing up as a hologram on the Zol-Ori, you said you were also doing it from your ship. So I thought, once we made it here I would meet you face to face. But you’re still syncing into lems and appearing in the walls. Where are you really?”
“We are meeting face to face,” he said. “I’m right here talking to you.”
“Do you mean you’re the ship?” she asked. “Parts of all the Unity ships are alive, biomechanical. But they’re not like you, not at all.”
“I’m not the ship.” He smiled playfully. “But it is one of my bodies. I’ve got plenty.”
“One of your bodies?” asked Torque. She had sidled in closer to their conversation, darting glances at them from down-turned eyes. Sabira knew she was also curious about who or what was Orion Hanada va Atara’han. “Is there an original?”
Orion’s smile twisted. “Of course. But so what? Whether I’m synced to a lem or anything else, it’s me. Why should the body matter?”
“Can I meet you, though, in that body? The original?” asked Sabira.
“It doesn’t quite work that way. But if you really want, I can show you,” he said.
Sabira rolled up to her tiptoes, eyebrows arching. Torque hopped from one foot to the next. “Yes, please,” they said in unison.
“Well then, just . . .” Orion’s image dispersed quickly away into blank wall space.
“. . . follow me.” A lem stood at the commons’ door, its head undulating into the shape of Orion’s face.
“Me too!” said Cal. Edlashuul gestured two of his claw-hands in agreement.
“I think we’d all like to meet the original,” said Coraz. “If that’s alright with you, of course.”
“Even me,” offered Derev.
Dawn, Zonte, and Playa all nodded in agreement.
“Alright,” Orion-lem said. “If we must, we must.” He turned and gestured for them all to follow. He led them up a deck to the central chamber at the heart of the ship.
When the doors opened to reveal the chamber, Sabira thought it was just a room filled with gravel and a few small boulders randomly thrown around. But then she understood there was a kind of order to it, something oddly peaceful, harmonious. A landscape of muted shades of red and brown and green boulders spread out before them, awash in a rippling plain of gravel, a sheen of morning dew over it all. She had lived most of her life encased in stone yet had never seen the pure beauty of it before. Like most of the surfaces within the ship, Sabira was fairly certain all the rocks were really forma but intricately detailed to appear utterly real in countless colors, shapes, and textures.
The illusion of a deep blue sky arched overhead, towering columns of white-gray clouds drifting from one horizon to the next. A bright sun hung a quarter of the way up the dome of the sky, shifting the landscape from golden hues to soft grays and back again with the passing clouds.
Irregular slabs of flat granite formed a walkway from the doorway to a two-story structure in the middle of the rock garden. Sabira had never seen this style of architecture before. It appeared to be made entirely of wood, though surely it too was mostly forma. A pointy roof swooped down into graceful curves, forming an awning along the sides of the tower.
“Please, come in,” said Orion-lem. “You’re all welcome here any time. I’m inside the pagoda.” He gestured toward the ornate structure.
Eight nodes orbited around the pagoda, their crystalline surfaces rapidly glimmering. Tight beams of sparkling light radiated from the nodes, dappling the pagoda’s outer walls in ever-shifting, dense webs of color. A small flight of wooden steps led to a wide, encircling porch and a pair of wooden doors adorned with minimalistic, elegant engravings. Two life-sized statues depicting fierce warriors stood on either side of the steps
As they approached the staircase leading to the pagoda’s entrance, the statues slowly turned their heads to observe their arrival. Once the whole group ascended the steps and stood on the front porch, the wooden doors slid to the side.
"What under the rocks?” said Derev.
“Dancer’s tits,” gasped Playa.
Inside they were greeted by a giant vat of pink goo and a naked man floating inside of it. Waves of black hair floated up from his head, drifting vertically in the goo like the spikes of Orion-lem’s forma hair. The man’s face was the same they had seen hundreds of times staring back at them from monitor screens and synched lems. His dagger-slit eyes were closed, slack limbs floated out from his thin, wiry frame. Orion’s crest, a blue flower encircled by a blue band, decorated the front of the vat. The crest appeared as if it had been quickly, yet deftly, painted by a giant brush.
“Well here you go,” said Orion-lem from behind the group. “The original iteration. Welcome to the hub of my being. Hope it doesn’t disappoint.”
“That’s really you?” asked Zonte.
“You’re not dead in there are you?” asked Playa.
“I’m alive,” Orion-lem answered. “See, I’m here, talking to you now. It’s me. It’s all me. And well, none of it’s me. Pretty much just like anyone else, really, if you think about it.”
“What? This is not like anyone else, really,” said Sabira.
“This stuff,” said Torque, “the pagoda, it’s like what you attached to my arm.” She stroked a finger over the smooth, transparent surface of the vat. It stood over them like a large, cylindrical, glass drum, nearly three meters tall and two meters in diameter. Orion’s “first iteration” floated in the heart of the cylinder. Complex clusters of conkanj symbols flashed all around him, weaving dense patterns of light and data through the bright pink goo. Each flashing, interwoven pattern of clusters blinked into the next. “It’s all one big interface,” she said. “An adapter.”
“Look who just nominated herself for ship’s mechanic,” said Orion. “Yes, the pagoda, the whole chamber, is an interface, a network hub, and more. It’s all me. Sabira, you asked how I do the things I do. Well, here you go.”
Sabira stood beside Torque, touched the vat wall, and minute vibrations tingled her fingertips. “I don’t understand.”
“One day, when you’ve got a few dozen hours free, I’ll give you the short version,” he said.
“No, what I mean is, I don’t understand why you’ve done this to yourself,” Sabira said. “You put yourself in a cage. A pretty one, but still a cage. You did so much to help us be free, why would you keep your body”—she gestured at the cylinder—“like that?”
“I’m freer than you can imagine. And to tell the truth, I don’t understand why you would keep your mind caged up”—Orion-lem gently pinched the
flesh of her arm—“like that.”
Over the next few days, Sabira kept thinking about what Orion had said. She believed she had freed her mind from the cages controlling and enslaving her since birth. But after speaking to Orion, Sabira couldn’t help but wonder: Had she freed herself from one cage she never realized she was in, only to find herself trapped in another? Is that what life was in the end, invisible cages within cages within cages? Was there such a thing as true freedom, or only ever expansive and more subtle bars to find and break through?
After about six hours of waiting and gazing at the stars in the ship’s commons, watching the crimson smear grow vast and wide overhead, Orion’s image coalesced onto the wall screen. Appearing as though he zoomed through empty space beside them, he wore a shiny silver space suit and a bubble helmet big enough to contain his flowing hair spikes. The rocket strapped to his back spewed a long, fiery trail in his wake.
“We’re close enough now for visual scanners,” he said. “Anyone want to see?”
Cal shouted yes, bouncing with excitement. A chorus of anxious agreement went around the room.
The view of the nebula filled the entire ceiling. In an instant, the image zoomed in so that the shifting swath of gases appeared to consume them. Dead center above loomed the Shattered Gates of Heaven. Nine great, curving tentacles of debris, each hundreds of kilometers long, spiraled out from a colossal shattered sphere. The Gates looked as if some massive biomech void dweller had been splintered into shards from core to tips, while vaguely retaining its ancient, unfathomable shape. Thousands of huge, jagged objects made up the central sphere, slowly drifting around three-hundred kilometers in diameter of empty space. A roughly triangular-shaped opening, at least a hundred kilometers each side and outlined in hundreds of floating shards, created an entrance into the sphere.
“See that,” said Orion. “That should be impossible. All those pieces should have collapsed in on themselves or drifted off into nothingness centuries ago. Defies every law of gravity and momentum in the books. I’m going to start priming this beauty for action. Watch this.”
Before the Shattered Gates of Heaven Part 4: Sacrificial Altars (Shattered Gates Volume 1 Part 4) Page 8
