Micah Trace and the Shattered Gate

by Eric Swanson

  A smile crept over Micah’s face.

  “The inky beyond?” He laughed for a moment as Wes joined him. Micah shook his head for a beat, still locked onto a mildly guilty looking older man. “When did you become so poetic, Eaton?”

  “Well, rounding the 3rd turn on life’s race will do that, Micah.” Eaton smiled and worn lines appeared all over his face. “You’re lucky I haven’t started writing.”

  “Ah, so mortality unleashes your inner creative?” Micah grinned the same without most of the lines time would surely gift him later.

  “Guess so.” Eaton shrugged again, mischief in his watery, bloodshot eyes. “Really, the humans managed to move on as a people pretty admirably.” Eaton said with yet another small shrug. “I mean, most of their more… questionable entertainment involves simulated Ceran hunting, theme parks, movies… Even though they have no idea what a Ceran looks like.”

  “How do you know all this, Eaton?” Micah asked, eagerness washing over the question.

  “Quiet orbit and plugging into their terrestrial satellite broadcasts.” Eaton said, hushed. The memory of his weeks spent trying not to breathe or bump anything in his idle spacecraft quieted his voice automatically. “We watched more Earth entertainment in that time than I think I have watched here at home in my whole life.”

  “Everything but the snacks, was it?” Gale asked, a renewed smile on her face.

  “Oh, we had snacks.” Eaton’s grin equaled Gale’s for a moment. Another violent fit of coughing overtook him. This fit lasted longer than the others…

  Too long.

  Eaton slowly began to lose color and the rhythmic tones of the heart monitor lost their cadence. Beeps came longer, then shorter, some skipped entirely.

  Beebeep. Beeeeep. Beep Beep.

  Off tempo, the heart monitor set a wonky soundtrack to the room. Just before Eaton’s eyes slid shut, Gale hopped up and leaned over him. She called his name in an initially conversation tone that quickly elevated to something nearer a screaming demand.

  Micah moved closer to Eaton and stared at his shut eyelids for a beat. “What can I do?” He asked, too loud, still staring at the older Hybrid’s closed eyes. “What can I do, Gale?”

  Micah did nothing while Gale tried desperately to revive Eaton. Wes ran toward the entryway and Micah heard him tell the twins to send for help.

  Micah stared at Eaton while he died and felt a numb helplessness he couldn’t push through. Shame slapped Micah as he realized part of his hurt at watching Eaton die was the catalogue of unanswered questions the younger Hybrid still had bouncing about his head. The warmth of that shame heated Micah’s face as the tears that ran down his cheeks cooled it.

  The off-kilter beeping regained its pace for a blink, then stopped completely.

  “You aren’t leaving like this!” Gale screamed. She stopped chest compressions and stepped back. Gale’s fist, an undersized hammerhead, thumped Eaton’s chest. A quiet series of dry cracks issued from Eaton as his ribcage fractured under her panicked blow.

  “Gale-“ Micah said as he stepped toward her. He took hold of her wrist as she raised her balled fingers for another strike. “It’s o—”

  “Micah!” Wes yelled and Micah’s head snapped around toward the sound.

  “Wha-“ Micah choked as Wes pointed his attention back to the bed and Eaton.

  A sharp, wheezing gasp came from Eaton as he sat up. After a brief moment spent with bulging eyes trying to draw in as much air as possible, Eaton clutched his newly cracked ribs and collapsed back, prone.

  “Eaton!” Micah fell upon the older man and hugged him just a bit too tightly. Eaton grimaced then coughed again and Micah recoiled, his hands held up. “Oh, Ahma, Eaton…”

  Eaton, pained and disoriented, weakly waived Micah’s concern away before his eyes fluttered and shut again.

  Gale set about helping Eaton once more as the door to his quarters flew open and several Koro-Koo medics surrounded the bed and got to work. Dressed identically to Rooman and Reeman (who resumed their posts outside the closing entryway as the medics rushed in), the black-clad miracle workers nudged Gale and Micah away from the bed, kind but serious. They talked exclusively to their patient and one another for their first 90 seconds in the room.

  “His Highness says you’re not to die tonight, Eaton.” The most vocal attendant said. The three medics looked very similar to a boy Micah had known in his academy days, but that boy had no siblings. Confusion washed over his mind for a beat before the lead medic spoke too loudly for the size of Eaton’s space. “The Pillar still has use for you. Is that clear?”

  “Nice to be wanted…” Eaton whispered between choked wheezes. A smile crept over his face but it disappeared as soon as one of the medics jammed a hypodermic needle in his arm.

  Eaton was taken by Med-Evac pod to the best hospital in the capital: Pillar Memorial, in the shadow of the home of the Crown.

  The Pillar Annex

  1515 Hours

  Eaton’s ordeal was still fresh in Micah’s memory hours later. Flashes of Eaton’s eyes shutting, Gale breaking his ribs to start the old man’s heart, the Koro-Koo medics and their cool precision. All of it mashed together in a confused montage of screams and panic. So preoccupied that he didn’t hear Aquis approach, Micah was startled to a cry when the giant Ceran spoke behind him.

  “Micah.” Aquis leaned nearer to Micah and tried to quietly alert the Hybrid, but Micah still leapt to his feet and took a defensive pose Wes taught him. The ever-present hood flopped back and forth for a beat after Micah established his position. The stance brought him eye-level with Aquis’s chest and fear colored Micah’s face before he recognized the massive Royal Guard. “I am sorry, Micah, I didn’t mean to—”

  Aquis took a step back and his eyes dropped to the gray slate floor in shame.

  “No, Aquis,” Micah said as he put a hand on the former Antisar MVP’s massive shoulder. “I’m the only who should be sorry. I have… a lot on my mind. I was distracted.”

  “I heard about Eaton,” Aquis wrapped his tree trunk of an arm around Micah’s shoulders. He had to crouch a bit. Aquis pulled Micah in for a tight hug. “If I can do anything…”

  “Thanks, Aquis.” Micah leaned into Aquis and bumped the giant’s chest with his shoulder. “Trust me, I know where you live.”

  As they laughed, several white-robed members of the Royal Care approached. Half a dozen tall, robed women approached Aquis in silence. The wild grins faded from both men’s faces as the seriousness of the stoic Royal Care’s demeanor came over them like a cloud.

  “We seek the Mimic.” The RC member nearest to Aquis spoke, terse and clear. Aquis stood between the newcomers and Micah, still hooded and hidden.

  “He is—” Aquis began just before Micah’s hand rested on his shoulder once more.

  “I’m here.” Micah stepped around Aquis and tipped his hood up slightly to show the Royal Care the face they sought.

  “Thank you.” The Royal Care encircled both Micah and Aquis as their leader nodded to Micah. “I am Ruuth and will be coordinating your preparation for tonight. Shall we?” The leader’s bright green eyes contrasted her light skin and almost glowing white robe. The others in her cabal were similarly colored, as though the sun, sky and clouds were sights rarely seen. Every few moments, one of the newer additions to the Care would crane their neck to catch a glimpse of Micah.

  Most were well-worn members of the sect, their adult lives dedicated to any and all needs of the Royal Family. More than just attendants or assistants, the Royal Care came to the aid of the Crown in any circumstance. An ancient order established as a contemporary to the Koro-Koo, the Royal Care had its white-clad members by the side of kings and queens during every important moment in Ceran history. Counselors and clothiers. Confidants and seamstresses. Each Royal is assigned a Care member as near to their age as possible once they reach six years of age. The Care members unassigned to a member of the royal family live in a separate dorm, ready to take the pla
ce of a sick, injured or dead member of their order.

  Some pale, white-robed ones waited their entire lives to serve the Pillar and its occupants. Those selected to serve at the side of the Crown lived an honored life, revered by reserve members of the Care. Some of those reserves were sneaking glances Micah’s way. Seeing his face in person, hearing his voice, it would be the closest some would ever be to a Royal, mimic or otherwise.

  “Are you fully prepared for tonight?” Ruuth asked, her eyes still fixed ahead.

  “For a playoff game?” Micah smiled and shrugged a bit. “Sure. I mean, the King will be unhappy if we return with anything less than a metric ton of those roasted nuts, but I think I can handle—”

  “No.” She turned to face Micah and ducked slightly to meet his eyes under his hood. She spoke clearly, intently, but hushed. “Are you prepared to be who you are meant to be? So publicly?”

  The entire cadre stopped mid-stride. The Carers on the outside of the circle faced outward, per their training and Aquis took a place directly behind Micah. His oversized shadow fell over the Hybrid. Taken aback by her question (the answer so obvious to him), Micah paused for a beat. “I’ve trained nearly my entire life for a night like this. Why wouldn’t I be ready?”

  “You have trained for public appearances as the King.” Ruuth whispered. She leaned just a little closer to Micah. Her breath smelled of sweet berries. “Never something so personal as this… to walk as the King, wave to a crowd and speak platitudes to them… as the King, that is what you have prepared for… Can you converse as he would? Can you be the King when your audience is one and not thousands?” She drew away from Micah’s face waving her group on.

  Embarrassment tickled Micah’s mind and skin. He’d never really considered the difficulty of engaging Garreous as King Artax with little-to-no buffer between them.

  “Davin will be with you the whole night, Micah.” Aquis whispered as they walked. Micah nodded, still looking ahead of them over the white hoods of the Carers in front of him. The hoods bounced and swayed as the women walked in much the same way Micah’s own hood moved. “I’ll be there too, my friend.”

  Calmed in part by Aquis and his assurances as well as the soothing rhythm of the swishing robes and on-beat footfalls, Micah’s shoulders slacked a bit. A quiet smile even curled his lips for a beat.

  The Helt Antisar Arena

  1815 Hours

  The roar of a crowd of thousands waiting to enter the stadium beat against reinforced steel walls of a non-descript cargo truck. The black paint on the outside of the truck nearly matched the darkness inside. Four passengers (two on each bench to the side of the cabin) shifted with the minor bumps as the truck passed through the docking area and into the staging lower level of the arena. The noise of the jubilant crowd faded as a pair of large doors rolled down to the floor and shut.

  The largest of the four shadowed passengers stood and stepped toward the back of the trailer. He rapped on the door of the truck hard, twice.

  “Coming out.” The shadow’s voice boomed.

  A single knock on the opposite side of the door came before the gate slid up and light flooded the cabin. Aquis stood before the opening and watched as Royal Attendants locked a small staircase into place at the back of the truck. He turned back toward Garreous, Davin and Micah and gestured to the stairs. “Your Highness.” He said, barely able to suppress a smirk.

  Micah rose, dressed head-to-toe in a black bodysuit lined with a purple stripe down his ribcage and legs on both sides. The cape behind him matched the stripe’s color and was lined in small stripes of shining gold. Atop his head was an understated gold crown, if such a thing is possible. A simple gold band wrapped his forehead. Micah/Artax nodded to Aquis and motioned for Davin to follow as he stood. Garreous fell in behind the royal pair and the three stepped out of the truck.

  “Listen to that, Davin!” Garreous excitedly pointed to toward the arena and the Antisar court. Tens of thousands of spectators already occupied their seats around the court and were chanting and cheering in anticipation of playoff action. Garreous spent so much of his time immersed in equations and simulations that crowds this size (and their accompanying noise) were almost totally novel experiences. He continued to take in their surroundings as a group of Aquis’s compatriot Royal Guardsmen settled in around them and the whole group moved toward the Royal Suite.

  “Wait until you see the view from our suite, Gar. It’s going to blow your mind.” Davin turned from Garreous to Micah and placed a hand on his cape covered shoulder. “Are you still sticking to our wager, Father?”

  “Does the King honor his word?” Micah asked in response, a flash of a smile on his face. “Remind me of the terms, Davin?”

  “If the Jor scores more than 3 goals, you let me upper atmo-dive.” A relatively new sport, upper atmosphere diving involved a short-distance vehicle taking passengers to just inside the edge of the Ceran atmosphere. Miles above the surface of the planet and nearly outside of gravity’s influence, Jumpers floated around before directing themselves toward their dive with small boot boosters.

  The Queen did not approve of Davin’s interest.

  “Ah yes.” Micah replied. “Of course, I’ll honor our bet, my son.”

  Davin smiled widely, his gambit appeared to succeed…

  “As a married man, it is incumbent upon me to remind you of your mother’s role in your upbringing.” Davin’s smile waned as Micah’s grew, the former feeling a blockade between him and excitement shifting into place. “My permission means everything in our kingdom, but less than my wife’s in our quarters.”

  Aquis let out a laugh and nearly every eye in their vicinity turned toward him. Garreous couldn’t help but meet Aquis’s eyes and return his smile, even as the larger Ceran sheepishly tried to avoid the focus his guffaw brought from dozens around them.

  “Yes, Father.” Davin said, disappointment in his voice. “Of course, I’ll ask Mother as well.”

  Their conversation trailed off as the group reached an elevator cordoned off by a purple velvet rope. Directed by their Royal guard escorts, they followed a few into the open elevator. The crowd noise which had grown as they approached the arena floor faded entirely inside the secure elevator. Two black-clad guardsmen remained outside the elevator doors on either side as they slid shut.

  “Destination?” A high-pitched SAMI voice asked.

  “Royal Deck.”

  “Royal Deck, acknowledged.” Two soft tones preceded the elevator’s ascent.

  The doors opened to a deck enclosed by soundproof glass. Just beyond the glass (which ran the length of the deck (200 feet or so and floor-to-ceiling), the thousands of fans previously heard were now clearly seen. Half the crowd wore the Quasar colors, black and sky blue and the rest wore the neon green and black of the Block G Crows.

  Banners hung from the tightly packed upper bowl seats with pictures of determined looking athletes posing with a league-standard black Antisar ball.

  “Can we?” Davin gestured to the glass and shrugged toward one of the Guardsman.

  “My King?” The guard asked as he turned to Micah.

  Micah nodded once and the glass slid apart noiselessly. The din of the Antisar fans in attendance rushed in and even Aquis, veteran of many high-stakes games in even larger venues, was surprised by the volume.

  Garreous stepped alongside them and all three walked out onto the outer deck. Almost immediately, the crowd began to quiet. Within moments, a reverent silence fell over the crowd. A soft crackle came as the Public Address system switched on.

  “People of Ceres…” The announcer’s voice was excited, but respectful. “Your King! Artax the Just!” A noise level Micah previously thought impossible was swiftly reached by the adoring crowd. They cheered with appreciative fervor.

  Micah stepped to the edge of the platform and waved to the crowd. Davin and Garreous did the same. As he looked out over the people screaming someone else’s name at him, he noticed a sparkle of light jump off not
hing (it seemed) a few inches from his face. A clear bubble enveloped the deck and a beat after seeing that flash of light, Micah realized it was a security barrier.

  “Artax, savior of the Hybrid people!” A woman directly below them screamed. Tears streamed down her face, a joyous smile catching some of them before they fell from her chin. “Savior!”

  Micah glanced in Davin’s direction, unsure how to absorb or respond to her adoration. Davin nodded at the tech who sat behind a control panel and a click later, the PA system shifted to their platform. Davin winked at Micah and stepped another pace forward.

  “My Hybrid brothers and sisters!” His voice echoed over the stadium as the crowd respectfully fell quiet again. “My family supports the Hybrid people, but this does not make us your savior, no.” Davin shook a finger very briefly. “Indeed, there has been plight and rescue in our relationship as separate races…” Davin paused for a moment before committing to his line of thought. ”…and it was you who saved us!”

  The crowd exploded once more and Micah placed a hand on Davin’s shoulder while waving to the crowd with this other.

  “You did not come here to hear words from the Crown…” Davin said. “You came for PLAYOFF Antisar!” Another loud cheer erupted. ”I came to see Jor Mikan!

  A “Mik-an Mik-an” chant ran through the stadium at the Hybrid superstar’s mention.

  “We did bring another friend with us tonight… some of you may remember from his playing days… Aquis!”

  A fresh cheer came as Micah and Davin turned to beckon Aquis forward. Not expecting a call into public light, Aquis had already begun sampling some of the Royal Suite’s culinary miracles. Still chewing while holding a small pastry stuffed with some stunning flavored meat, Aquis shook his head for a moment before he recalled the source of the request. A small piece of pastry hung from his lip as he jogged toward the open platform and adoration.