Four Worlds

by Maureen A. Miller

  “Thank you for your time, and for so diligently taking care of–us.” She unconsciously stroked the swell.

  Bandal’s pale eyes drifted down. He nodded, but his bushy eyebrows dipped slightly.

  “Anthum will welcome a new generation. In time the journey of the Horus will be nothing more than folklore.”

  “I doubt that,” she snorted with disbelief. “I speak for our child, that he will regale every tale of the majesty of this ship.”

  Bandal looked pleased, but tactfully turned his shoulder in dismissal.

  Zak tugged on her arm, entrenching her back into the murky descent. Questions charged through her mind like trapped bugs. Before she could even pick one from the crowd her shoulder buzzed and JOH’s dry voice filled her ear.

  “Hello Aimee, please gather any belongings from your quarters and report to Sector Ceb.”

  “Sector Ceb?” She cricked her neck to hear better. “Where the heck is Sector Ceb?”

  “Proceed directly to–”

  “It’s okay, JOH,” Zak said loudly, “I’ve got her. We’re on the bridge now.”

  And just like that, they poured out of the wall onto the hectic control deck where the staff seemed more energetic than ever. A pulse of urgency throbbed through the concourse.

  “Come on,” Zak urged. “Let’s get back to our quarters. People are already assembling.”

  “You know where Sector Ceb is?”

  He nodded.

  “How do you know?”

  Zak tipped his head past her shoulder to the group of silver suits congregated under a flashing symbol that finally translated to the word Ceb for her benefit. There was one other on this ship who would require the translation. Where were Raja and Craig? Were they going to be in Sector Ceb?

  “Raja?” she said the name, helplessly.

  “Ask JOH, but ask him as you’re moving.”

  Aimee crooked her head as she hastened to keep up with Zak’s stride.

  “JOH, where is Raja and Craig? Are they going to Sector Ceb as well?”

  “Yes.”

  Some of the bugs in her head scrambled away.

  “And Gordy?”

  “Sector Tok.”

  “Oh.” She stopped, tugging Zak to a halt.

  “What?” He looked concerned.

  “Gordy will be on another ship,” she lamented, and then switched attention back to her shoulder. “JOH, can you change it so that he is with us?”

  “No. As a Warrior, Gordeelum will be serving as a pilot on the Tok ship. All Warriors had to be divvied up between the modules.”

  “The Tok ship?” Her translator patch was too slow for her liking.

  “The five modular ships,” JOH recited. “Ahl, Ceb, Cor, Pul, and Tok.”

  She looked to her husband for guidance.

  “The ancient Anthumian alphabet. An equivalent for your A, B, C, D, and E.”

  “Oh, why didn’t it translate properly?”

  “My system is running a little slow right now,” JOH defended. “A lot of demands.”

  “Sorry, JOH. I just wished Gordy could be on our ship.”

  “Baldan said we would land close together,” Zak assured. “It’s an island. We’ll find Gordy shortly.”

  Temporarily appeased, Aimee jogged ahead of her husband to reach the door to their quarters. Inside there was very little to collect. Reaching for the pendant that hung around her neck, aside from Zak, there was little else she needed. What, her Earth clothes? Did she really want to lug them around on Anthum? A pillow? She always used to grab the pillow off her bed before any road trip. And, she had no clothes for Zon yet. Did they make silver uniforms for babies?

  “At least Raja will be with us,” Zak mentioned, standing before the fishbowl window. “I want her to be able to monitor you.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She joined him, wondering if the bright point of light in the distance was Anthum. “We’ll be fine.” A frown crossed her brow. “The landing–you don’t anticipate injuries, do you?”

  Reading that stoic profile was as easy as translating hieroglyphics. His lips parted, and the word, “no” came out, but the set of his jaw–the lines about his eyes–they told a different story.

  Aimee hugged her arms around her midsection and stared at their reflection in the glass. “When the time comes–” her breath stifled, “–you’ll hold my hand. You’ll hold my hand until we’re safe on the ground.”

  He turned to look at her, the gold starbursts warming her on contact. “And maybe a few hundred ren after for good measure.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “I still don’t see why the ship had to separate like this. If that’s the case, why didn’t they just build five smaller ships to begin with. What was the point of the Horus?”

  Gordy listened to his sister, Wanza, berate everything from the design of the ship to the division of its passengers, and the selection process for module assignment. Why didn’t they assign me to the module my cabin is located in? That would make the most sense, no?

  He could have argued with her first question that five smaller ships would not have allowed for the thriving metropolis in space they were accustomed to. He could have also argued that the selection process was intended to keep families together. Instead, he nodded tolerantly, while trying to concentrate on the landing simulation tool all Warriors had been provided.

  “What is that you’ve got there? A game?” Wanza looked over his shoulder and turned away disinterested. “Must be nice to have time to play games.”

  Gordy almost grinned. This was his sister. She might not be the most charming of people, but she was his blood. In the next chamber his parents sat with their hands linked, calmly encouraging those around them. Gordy wished his friends were on the Tok ship, but he had a job to do. Concentration was imperative. The lives of over a hundred mecaws rested in the hands of himself, an elder engineer, a Watcher, and a young Warrior named Lookun. It was not too long ago that he was referred to as the young Warrior.

  The engineer from Anthum would guide him through the steps, but his input was academic. Gordy was the one with the skills to execute. It seemed so long ago that he and Aimee had guided that old terra duster, the white elephant, onto the surface of Ziratak. It might have been timeworn, but it was so small, disrespected by Ziratak’s atmosphere as if it was nothing more than a piece of space debris.

  Ship Tok comprised of the Great Hall, the commissary, several wings of residential quarters, and once, the R-four, a storehouse and museum satellite that had snapped off in the surmounting collapse of the Horus. Ship Tok was nothing like the innocent terra duster of his past. Tok was a behemoth in its own right, and though there were a sufficient number of Warriors aboard the Horus, only a handful were considered eligible to pilot these giant modules.

  “JOH.” He turned away from Wanza for some privacy. It didn’t matter, she was still prattling on regardless whether he listened or not.

  “Yes, Gordeelum.” JOH sounded tense.

  “Let me talk to Zak.”

  “Of course.”

  “Gordeelum?” Zak’s gravelly voice filled his ear.

  Gordy had to smile. In all these rens, Zak always referred to him by his full name. Zak wasn’t one for nicknames. He was a precise man. A great Warrior. A man Gordy respected and trusted.

  “Are you piloting Ship Ceb?” Gordy inquired.

  “Yes, along with two elders and another Warrior. And, of course, Vodu.”

  “Is the Warrior a junior?”

  A slight pause, where Zak’s drawn breath could be heard. “No. It is Gullo.”

  Gullo, another veteran from the Koron attack. It was understandable that Ship Ceb commanded such a team. They were responsible for the leader.

  “You can do this,” Zak cut into Gordy’s thoughts. “You came for me when you were not even a novice. You commandeered a vessel to Ziratak without fear.”

  “Aimee commandeered it. I helped.” It sounded so lame.

  “She would not have contr
olled that landing if it wasn’t for you,” Zak vowed solemnly. “And you were the first Warrior to pilot a ship all the way to Earth. The only time I had ever been to Earth was when the Horus passed by on its TimeQuest. Gordeelum, you left the Horus and made the journey on your own, and might I add, your arrival helped with a bad situation that was developing.”

  Yes, the villainous individual who had Zak, Aimee, and Raja cornered in the woods. It was a surreal situation to stumble upon. Not until afterwards did he appreciate the danger they had been in.

  “You make me proud, Gordeelum. You are one of the elite Warriors now. They chose you to pilot a module. Your name will go down in history in Anthum. The pilots of these five ships will become legendary. And they chose you because they know you’re the best.”

  “Do you even know what you’re doing, Gordy?” Wanza chirped behind him.

  “You can do this,” Zak affirmed.

  The conviction in those hoarse words was what Gordy needed. No matter his accomplishments in life, he always felt like the young one trying to play catch-up with his friends. Wanza’s belittling refrains echoed in the far reaches of his soul, but he understood her more and more as he grew older. Wanza had never really done anything with her life. She had been schooled, but easily grew bored. She never really chose an occupational path, instead opting to gossip with friends and claim that she was responsible for the new trend in short hair. Truth be told, Gordy recognized that she was jealous of her brother, and taunting him was the only way she could control that.

  “Thanks Zak.” Gordy grinned into his shoulder so no one could see. “I think you exaggerate slightly, but I kind of like the exaggerations,” he chuckled. “Be careful, and I’ll see you soon on Anthum.”

  A rare smile carried in Zak’s response. “I bet I beat you there.”

  Gordy’s grin grew. “That’s one bet you’ll lose.”

  Zak snorted and then the sound was gone. Instead, Wanza’s whine growled behind him. “How long is this going to take?”

  Gordy tuned her out, focusing on the audible crowd growing outside the chamber. His parents subdued voices were now drowned by the din of anxious banter.

  Beside him the designated elder turned about. His wizened face looked resigned and weary.

  “We need all non-personnel out of this chamber and in their designated seats. The ships are about to disengage.”

  “When will we lose communication with them?” Gordy asked.

  The elder focused through the glass at the emergent star. “Not so much a loss, as a delay. When we enter the atmosphere our supplemental heat barrier will suspend communications for a brief period.”

  “Right,” Gordy leaned in, reviewing the approach strategy displayed multidimensionally atop the console. “We insert ourselves into orbit around Anthum in the sequence of the modules, putting us, Ship Tok, last to enter the atmosphere. We will orbit through the substratosphere, and the heat barrier will protect us against the friction.”

  The elder nodded in approval. Graying eyebrows then narrowed. “There could be consequences of being the last ship,” he warned quietly.

  “What type of consequences?”

  “Five ships orbiting the planet, their trajectory so crafted, it’s almost as if they are tied by a rope–only, the tail end of the rope possesses the most velocity.”

  An image Aimee once shared came to mind. An action she called Fly Fishing, where the tail end of the line accelerates wildly.

  “I can handle it,” Gordy assured with an unexpected rush of confidence.

  It was true. He had flown blindly so many times. On this mission, he would not be blind.

  “Thermal wind will be an issue,” the elder warned.

  “Yes. I experienced that on the approach to Ziratak.”

  The elder smiled. “I heard about that. You were the one? You became a Warrior without having been nominated an apprentice.”

  “That’s right,” Gordy replied defensively.

  “Fledgling Warriors have minimal piloting experience. They are schooled long before they can take flight. You were way ahead of them. I am pleased to have you as the Tok pilot.”

  Gordy caught the discreet glance of the junior Warrior on the end of the console. Was there admiration in that brief glimpse?

  “It’s time,” Vodu’s voice filled the chamber.

  Gordy tensed, but he was ready.

  After the antidote for the virus was produced and the Horus was able to return to Anthum, he had chosen to stay on the ship for another ren. But, now he relished the opportunity to visit the land of his people. It would be foreign. The Horus had been his home for his entire life. When he had visited Earth, he enjoyed the sun. He enjoyed the lakes. He enjoyed that unique scent of pine and flowers. Would Anthum have that scent?

  “Attention. Attention.” JOH sounded in his shoulder. A second later the call echoed over the main speaker system. “Please report to your designated seats in preparation for detachment.” There was a slight pause and the command was repeated.

  Gordy crooked his neck and whispered. “JOH, can you display the auditorium, and locate my family?”

  “Certainly,” he responded immediately as if he wasn’t busy corralling the passengers of the Horus.

  The console before Gordy transitioned into a view of the Great Hall. The focus narrowed and he was grateful to see that his parents and sister had made their way to their assigned seats. On the stage, serene images of Anthum flashed for the tense audience. Sparkling rivers. Towering temples. A radiant sunset.

  Appeased, Gordy quickly swiped his hand at the image, restoring the replica of the Horus. Red lights pulsed along the targeted lines of uncoupling. Throbbing alarms now substituted JOH’s repetitive voice.

  “We have confirmation that Ships Ahl and Ceb have detached,” the elder beside him affirmed. “Repeat, Ships Ahl and Ceb have successfully detached.”

  Be safe, Gordy silently called out to his friends.

  When last he spoke with Aimee, she informed him that he would be an uncle to their son. He couldn’t believe it. It was such an esteemed honor for someone not of the same blood.

  “Ship Cor has successfully detached. Repeat, Ship Cor has successfully detached.”

  Clenching and unclenching his hands, Gordy prepared for the moment Ship Tok became autonomous. Adrenaline thumped through his veins. In the corner, he caught sight of the Warrior apprentice, perspiration beading on his high, pale forehead.

  “Preparing for detachment,” Gordy announced solemnly.

  Beside him the elder stared through the expansive windshield. His head dipped. “Now, Gordeelum.”

  Gordy swiped his palm over the panel and three-dimensional replicas of the Horus modules jumped to life. Ship Ahl slipped into the elliptical orbit of Anthum. It held its velocity as Gordy silently willed it to slow down. On cue, Ship Ceb moved into position.

  Drawing his eyes away from that beguiling sight, he located the last two modules still attached and began the disconnection process. Perhaps there was a slight jolt felt in the soles of his foot gear. Maybe he experienced a moment of buoyancy. He was too focused to give either much attention.

  “Ship Tok has successfully detached,” the elder droned beside him, the announcement echoing in his shoulder and overhead.

  Now Gordy felt some semblance of control returning. This was his realm–commanding a craft–any craft–navigating it through space and finessing it through the whims of a new atmosphere. Yes, this was larger than anything he had ever piloted, but mass only held meaning on approach. Okay, approach was the hardest part. But, this module of the Horus responded to his commands with a nimble artistry.

  Maneuvering into place behind the four ships, he consulted the readouts, and heard the elder confirm that their course was on target. Anthum was a large planet, but their destination was an island off the coast of Aldeer. Aimee had looked at the maps and said it was similar in size to Cooba, or Cuba. Something like that.

  As planned, Ship Tok slipped
back out of the atmosphere on its elliptical path, and reentered at a reduced velocity. All shields were holding up. No temperature alerts glared on the panels.

  “Steady,” the elder commanded, but he was talking to the young Warrior who mimicked Gordy’s motions.

  Gordy chanced a glimpse away from the controls to take in the splendor before them. The curvature of Anthum glowed with a blend of gold, and a band of blue that reached out to kiss the onset of eternal night. Marbled clouds cast strings across the surface. An alert flashed on the console, wrenching his eyes back to the task at hand. Ship Ahl was beginning its descent onto the island known simply as Aulo. Aulo meant forward in Anthumian.

  Safe landing, he encouraged mutely.

  A shudder jarred the images on his console. Gordy looked up at the strained face of the aged man beside him. There were no words, but he could see the concern etched there. Again, the ship quaked.

  “Reduce your speed,” the elder instructed. “We must be too close to Ship Pul.”

  Frowning at the console, Gordy studied the jet stream in the upper atmosphere.

  “I don’t think that’s it.”

  A graying eyebrow hiked up. “Of course, it is. Pull back now.”

  The ship fought Gordy, the resistance demonstrated in each jarring tremor. Out of respect to the elder engineer he eased up on the speed, but changed the navigation.

  “What are you doing?” the man cried. “Follow the route!”

  “We’re hitting a wake of sorts,” Gordy explained. “Not from the ship in front of us. It is a disturbance left over from the previous pass of the five ships.”

  This was the second orbit around Anthum. Each pass was intended to slow down the speed of the behemoth crafts. The composition of the atmosphere couldn’t be predicted, however, nor could the effect of the five giant crafts and their friction be foretold.

  Gordy struggled to regain the course. If he deviated too much to circumvent the turbulence, he would miss Aulo completely.

  “Ship Ahl has landed,” the elder droned beside him. Was there censure in his tone?

  Gordy saw the young Warrior struggling equally to right the wayward Tok. Their combined efforts were working. They had managed to regain the objective, but this left them paralleling the stream of the previous craft. The slightest adjustment to their flight route would have exponential impact. If they couldn’t reclaim the original passage before landing, they would end up missing the island completely, and be lucky to reach the mainland and not ditch into the ocean.