Micah Trace and the Shattered Gate

by Eric Swanson

  0555 Hours

  Micah slept less than 30 minutes before SAMI’s voice woke him. Never had Micah wished so committedly for some sort of decoration on his ceiling than over that long night. He lay in bed, eyes almost glued open and stared at nothing but the white plaster. Fatigue weighed his eyelids and each blink felt like the moment sleep would come.

  “Good morning, Micah. It’s 0555.” SAMI intoned. “Would you like to hear the news?”

  “No.” Micah snapped. “Just… turn the lights on and start the shower, SAMI. 90% lighting.”

  As he showered and dressed in silence, Micah thought over his conversation with Boleen from the night before. Micah spent only as much time as required studying religious literature in his youth. The Hybrid training houses varied in their approach to indoctrinating their charges. Micah’s singular role in Hybrid society differed from his contemporaries in the training house. The rest of them were being groomed as replacement parts in the machine of the Hybrid society, dozens bred and equipped to fill only a handful of roles.

  The more homogenous Hybrid children were taught a great deal about the godhead… Ahma the Creator, Va the patron of destruction and change and Saras, the aspect of the Hybrid god revered by those who worship knowledge itself. The trainees were subtly encouraged to study the teachings of the aspect that aligned with their path in life. Those tasked with manual labor or trades were nudged toward Ahma or Va whereas the more technically schooled students were encouraged to learn about Saras’ teachings.

  Boleen was introduced to Micah, but not in the context of his role as the High Priest of Ahma. As a child, Micah met the war hero clergyman after his first visit to the Pillar. Hanani told Micah that Boleen was a trusted member of the Royal Inner Circle, just like Micah himself. They struck up a friendship and their connection grew over time.

  “Micah?” SAMI’s voice broke through the silence of Micah’s morning, and he started with a small cry. “I am sorry, Micah. The twins have been waiting for longer than usual.” The system paused for a moment and Micah almost heard a twinge of embarrassment in SAMI’s silence. “Would you like me to give them an estimated time of departure?”

  “Thirty seconds, SAMI.” Micah threw his hood into place and stepped toward the door. He let the door shut without commanding SAMI to shut off the lights in his apartment and the empty living quarters stayed illuminated all day in his absence.

  The Royal Hall

  0725 Hours

  Micah paid little attention to proceedings in Court that day. He greeted the Royals with as much energy as he could muster in this mood, but Micah’s eyes told the Ceran First Family he was less than entirely present. Quietly seated near the front of the room, few attendants saw Micah’s eyes slide closed under his hood a few times.

  Davin noticed but let it slide. He resolved to ask Micah later.

  “Your Highness, the great Explorers of the Stars, Pollai and Kaymar come before the Court!” The Court caller yelled. Micah’s eyes stopped fluttering shut and snapped wide open at the mention of the travelers. He straightened his back against the bench and turned to see the pair enter the Court Hall.

  “Your Highnesses!” Pollai, a tall Ceran with light red hair, walked toward the lectern and the Royals with his arms spread wide. He smiled like a game show host and spoke with the bombast of a seasoned politician. “Such a pleasure it is to see you again after so long!”

  Kaymar said nothing and paced reverently a few steps behind his partner. Dark, nearly black hair topped his head and his shining green eyes seemed to survey the floor of the Court more than anything else. The pair stepped behind the lectern and Kaymar was the first to bow. Pollai followed and dipped just a little deeper.

  “We couldn’t be happier to have you back safely.” Hanani spoke first. Susa nearly twitched with excitement in his smaller throne, giddy at the idea of news from the silence of space.

  “No small feat, given the dangers set before us, your Grace!” Pollai gestured above them, beyond the black specked stone. “The stars seem peaceful and calm with your feet on dirt, Highness… among them are elements of chaos! Strange radiation, stones made of building blocks we’ve yet to identify… Planets! Other worlds as numerous as the hairs on your head, I—”

  Kaymar laid a hand upon Pollai’s shoulder and the noise ceased for a moment. Without looking at each other, the partners came to a momentary understanding.

  “Of course, Kaymar. You’re right.” Pollai drew a deep breath and looked to the Royals once more, calmer. “I apologize for my… energy, my King and Queen. We experienced much we wish to share with you and I seem… a bit too eager to tell our tales.”

  “We are all eager to hear them, Pollai.” King Artax said before casting a knowing look Davin’s way.

  “Your Highness, of course!” Pollai nearly yelled once more. “In my nearly century and a half of life-“

  Kaymar’s brow twitched every time his partner in adventure reiterated his claim to longevity.

  “I have seen many things that defy explanation. On our most recent adventure, we visited the planet from whence our Hybrids friends came.”

  Micah’s breath left him and his head became light at the mere mention of Earth.

  “Earth is a magnificent planet, highnesses… Unlike our own world, it is warmed by a still-young yellow star, and even more stunningly, its moon remains in orbit around the planet. The regularity of their tides seems to allow for settling at the very edge of land… As someone who particularly enjoys the sea, even witnessing this from afar was… captivating.”

  Kaymar stepped toward the lectern and Pollai relinquished the focus of the Court. “We spent weeks in a nearly powerless orbit around Earth. We ran on just enough to maintain an oxygenated environment with some gravity.” Kaymar paused and gestured at Pollai with a grinning wink at Davin. “I can tell you, no challenge meets the standard of trying to keep Pollai quiet for an extended period of time.” His smile faded and seriousness retook Kaymar’s expression. “We listened to their communications and watched a few of their more entertaining pieces of art.”

  A light conversational clamor rose from the gallery of the court for a moment. Earth’s people were a complete mystery to almost every member of the Ceran race and these tidbits provoked wild curiosity.

  “Did you see the gate?” Garreous asked, his voice wavering with excitement. His question cut through the low rush of the gallery’s chatter, insistent, clear and loud.

  The gallery quieted and Garreous stood amid a seated crowd. The moment it became clear that the full focus of the Court Hall befell him, Garreous shrunk down, just slightly. He stammered a follow-up question then dropped his eyes to his leather shoes.

  Pollai turned and smiled at Garreous warmly.

  “On every orbital cycle we passed the pieces of the gate, yes… um…” Certainty abandoned Pollai when he realized Garreous was a stranger.

  “Pollai, Kaymar…” King Artax began. “Please meet Garreous. A friend of Royal family as well as a gifted theoretical physicist, Garreous has been tasked with making our race a truly deep-space-faring people.”

  “Thank you, Highness.” Garreous bowed and turned back to the explorers. “My goal is creating an engine capable of achieving faster than light travel.”

  “Your interest in the gate… You believe it could be instructive to you in your objective?” Kaymar asked.

  “Yes.” Garreous spoke with certainty now, in his element. “Paired with the intact gate in our own high orbit, I believe this technology will open doors for us, accelerate our development process by a matter of years, decades even.”

  “We have readings, Garreous.” Pollai said as he took a step closer to the young scientist. “Bits of radiological data were accumulated on each pass we made of the gate’s remains. I would happily share this data with you.”

  “Thank you, Pollai,” Garreous stepped to the lectern and joined the explorers. His attention turned to the Throne once he reached the stone table. “But, Your Highne
ss, my research would be much more effective… up close.”

  A shocked hush fell over the observing crowd in the Royal Hall at the mention of someone other than Pollai and Kaymar making the journey to Earth.

  “You wish to travel to Earth, Garreous?” The King asked, stunned.

  “Your Grace, I wish only to travel to Earth’s orbit. I have no need to make planetfall.”

  “I see.” King Artax nodded and briefly shared a silent conference with his wife, their eyes locked. “The Crown sees no reason to deny this request, Garreous.”

  Another light clamor came from the gallery, Micah among it, silent and stunned. His head felt light once again, his fingers tingled. Earth.

  A voice broke through the din once again, this time Pollai’s.

  “With respect, Highness… It is not the Crown’s permission one will need to study the remnants of the gate…” He paused and looked to Kaymar, who nodded an affirmation. “It is the humans of Earth. They have fortified their orbital space to an extent Kaymar and I thought… impossible. They have created a vast, tight network of satellites and defense stations. Any ship making an active approach would be immediately identified and very likely be regarded as a threat.”

  “The humans… my King… part of what we gleaned from their communications, their newscasts… Their defenses are forcing the planet to retain various forms of cosmic radiation… It sickens them.”

  The King sat, quiet and thoughtful for a moment.

  “So,” He said, hesitant. “In order to gain access to their gate, we must obtain their permission… To do this, we must approach them as an ally.”

  “Difficult to do given our history with them, Highness.” Pollai replied. “They… stare at the broken gate in the sky and have for centuries since the Gathering. Where most traumas fade with time… This remains fresh because they still see the instrument of the capture of thousands.”

  Micah, still hooded, barely aware of himself, stood and walked toward the Lectern and the Throne. His steps felt disconnected, dream-like. “I want to go, Majesty.” He spoke simply, almost like a child. “I must.”

  It wasn’t until the Court Hall was cleared and business adjourned that Micah realized he had only hoarsely whispered those words and had not approached the Lectern at all. He stood alone in the Hall, slowly becoming more convicted.

  The Ceran Senate Quarters

  1715 Hours

  Sanballat walked a dark corridor alone with his thoughts. Footfalls echoed against the stone walls taking him deeper into the Pillar. Stray thoughts of his last few appearances in the Court Hall bounced around his head as he approached a lit doorway.

  Years of service to the Pillar, to the Crown, to the safety of his people and Sanballat found that time and his service purchased little. In saner times, Sanballat would be held up as a paragon of virtue to the Ceran people, a sainted member of the governing class. Now, he understood, the Crown firmly aligned itself with half-breeds.

  Hybrids were created as a living resource to the Ceran people, one meant to stave off environmentally driven genetic degradation. Hundreds of years before Sanballat walked the halls of the Pillar, his ancestors had ensured the survival of their race by creating a stable stock of genetic material: the hybrid. This self-replicating supply of limbs, organs, skin, marrow and blood propped up their collective flailing health.

  It bought them time to guard against the radiation of a dying sun, their simultaneous source of life and death.

  Sanballat knew the Hybrids were not a solution. The Hybrids were a stopgap. To ensure the perpetual survival of his people, Sanballat would need to force change.

  “We do need them,” A voice insisted from Sanballat’s destination.

  “Of course,” Another voice replied, deeper and surer than the first.

  Sanballat knew the topic and thrust of the conversation before he joined it. “I need animals in order to feed my family, Zadok. That doesn’t mean that the animals are required to occupy space in my home.”

  Seated at a small table far from the entry, two Cerans faced one another. Similar in stature, they were otherwise complete opposites. One darkly colored, tan skin and jet-black hair, grown just past his ears. The other, he of the deeper voice, was lighter, close cropped white haired and shining green eyes. The darker haired Ceran raised a hand to Sanballat in greeting.

  “Good day, Sanballat.” He rose, shook Sanballat’s hand and returned to his seat as the Courtier joined the pair at the table. Zadok, elected leader of the Yonah Party, was widely known as a thoughtful and patient leader. He allowed a quiet moment to pass before he replied to Sanballat. “I have a certain amount of difficulty treating sentient living beings like livestock, as you might imagine.”

  Yonah was a long-dead word from nearly forgotten Ceran language spoken in antiquity. When the original founders of the party searched their contemporary Ceran tongue for a word which, the felt, fully described their mission and place in Ceran society, they found none. When last it was spoken, thousands of years before the party’s initial gathering, yonah meant “consider” or “contemplate”. The legal frameworks they envisioned were built upon full consideration and contemplation of those laws’ impact upon the majority of their constituency. The Yonah party’s primary consideration in all matters was the maintenance of the broader social contract between all Cerans.

  A tense grimace crossed the other Ceran’s face but his words were stayed by Sanballat quietly holding up his hand.

  “Sentient though they may be, Zadok, they are instruments of our salvation.”

  “All the more reason for them to be afforded a certain level of respect.”

  “Respect?!” Asaph nearly screamed. A vein coursed pink against his skin and his eyes bugged for a moment. Passionate and short tempered, Asaph led the rival Netz party with committed fury. He operated the party like an implement of war, taught his followers to engage political opponents like enemies and trust only those on their side of the Senate House. “These monsters are bombing markets, Zadok! You can’t possibly—”

  “Not until we took their independence and corralled them in those blocks!” Zadok gestured at Sanballat as an acknowledgement of his family’s role in the Hybrid Blocks’ design and construction.

  “This again, just another fun gathering where you all compare your manhood while screaming?” Meremoth sauntered toward the table, a beauty of singular quality. She shared Asaph’s aesthetic but wore it far more calmly. Remy, as most knew her, brushed her white hair to one side and bent to plant a small kiss on the cheek of Zadok. “Hello, husband.”

  “Good evening, wife.”

  “Remy.” Her brother greeted Meremoth with a childhood nickname, used mostly by family or dear friends. She smiled and gave him a quick nod. The light tone of his voice conflicted with a look upon his face which would most accurately be described as disgust. Asaph stared sharply at the pair for a quiet moment.

  Zadok happened to catch Asaph mid-glower but the two quickly broke eye contact.

  “So,” Meremoth began as she sat next to her husband. “We’re discussing the Hybrid matter, are we?” Meremoth closed her eyes for a beat longer than a blink and resisted the urge to show her disdain for the topic outwardly. “Have we progressed to “Let’s just freeze them all!” yet, or am I on time to catch the beginning of that song and dance?”

  “Not yet, love, but moving that direction rapidly.” Zadok replied while staring hard at his brother-by-law.

  “I do think it’s off-putting how much stock the leadership of your party puts in the well-being of the Hybrids, Zadok.” Barrister Tobiah jumped into the conversation after spending a few minutes silent and simmering. His measured tone and careful choice of words nearly hid Tobiah’s venomous disdain for the “Copies”.

  “My party, Barrister Tobiah,” Zadok replied and shifted in his seat to face Tobiah to his right. “Is keenly interested in the well-being of anyone who looks To The Pillar.”

  “And you think these Hybrids Look T
o The Pillar as we do?” Sanballat asked.

  “I think you would be pleasantly surprised by the contributions a fully accepted Hybrid population could make to our society. There hasn’t been widespread violence in years, isn’t it—”

  “There isn’t widespread violence until there is widespread violence, Zadok.” Sanballat cut him off. “We stand on a frightening precipice, but all you, Meremoth and your ilk seem to see is the blue sky and sunshine above the abyss.” Sanballat spat as he gestured above them with a tight hand.

  “You see an abyss and I see a canyon pass in need of a bridge, Sanballat. As always, we stand on opposite sides of the Hybrid matter. So long as the Crown wishes that they be a part of our society, I will fight to make that a continuing reality.”

  Prepared to rebut the politician, Sanballat started to speak as an aide from his office entered the room. Sanballat’s face sank as the young Ceran padded toward him. “Yes, of course.” He murmured almost to himself, distaste coating the words. “Honored friends, I must take my leave of you now. Another… matter requires my attention.”

  The meek aide stepped nearly to Sanballat to whisper something already known to the courtier. Sanballat fiercely waved the aide away and pointed back toward the room’s entrance. A still moment after Sanballat left the room, Meremoth broke in.

  “He’s going to meet with the Hooded One, isn’t he?” Zadok asked his wife.

  To the precious few who had seen his face, both Micah’s name and role in the affairs of the Crown were well-known. The rest of the regulars in Court circles knew him only by his hood. Wild rumor and speculation twisted the truth of Micah’s existence into stories meant to scare children at bedtime.

  Micah and Sanballat’s Meal

  1810 Hours

  Micah’s black hood fluttered with the wind and flashes of the dark purple lining showed intermittently. He, Roomen and Reeman passed through a bright courtyard, the mid-day sun throwing light orange beams their way. The trip through the lush green park was marked by an animated debate between the three.