Micah Trace and the Shattered Gate

by Eric Swanson

  Garreous swiped at his own lip in warning and Aquis cleared the chunk away. As the hulking Guardsman waved to the crowd, thousands chanted his name. “Aquis! Aquis! Aquis!” In his playing days, Aquis was known for not only his toughness but a level of agility that neared ridiculousness for someone his size. After each goal or big play (with a stoppage), Aquis would wow the crowd with a backflip that ended with him on one knee. His hands wouldn’t touch the ground and the sight of Aquis tucking and fully rotating in mid-air mere feet from the ground never ceased to amaze.

  Emotion overcame Aquis as he waved to the crowd a bit more. In a split second, he decided to give the crowd one more show before ceding the stage to the teams on the Court. He stepped away from Micah, Davin and Garreous before tightly flipping over and tucking his legs just above the ground as he rotated.

  He landed on one knee and the crowd exploded one more time.

  The thousands in attendance roared one last time before quieting for a rendition of the Ceran planetary anthem and the announcing of starting lineups. As the game began and the crowd settled in watch, Aquis approached Davin and Micah.

  “Thank you for that moment, Your Highness.” Aquis stood before Davin and bowed. The emotional weight of being welcomed back to an Antisar arena quieted his demeanor and somehow, Aquis seemed just a bit shorter in that moment.

  “Of course, Aquis.” Davin had to reach up to clap a hand on the Guardsman’s shoulder. “Your greatness on the court deserves recognition, as does your sacrifice to the Crown.” Aquis’s retirement from the game happened mere days after a dominant championship win and it stunned the sporting community, as well as the Ceran culture as a whole). In the same tearful press conference, Aquis announced his retirement as well as his enlistment into the service of the Pillar as a Guardsman. To give up so much (fame, success and all their benefits) to live a life of service… Many were baffled. Most simply wondered if they would do the same in similar circumstances.

  Aquis nodded and hurriedly gestured toward the food. “Those pastries are quite good, Your Grace. I recommend them highly.” The giant’s voice cracked as pride and gratitude flushed him once more. Aquis had no interest in openly weeping before a pair of monarchs, or one, at least, so he faked a cough and excused himself.

  “Quite a Guardsman he turned out to be.” Garreous came alongside Davin and Micah with a respectful nod to both. “I remember when he first joined… Someone so large in all-black… Until I spoke to him for the first time, I took him for the specter of death sometimes.”

  The crowd came alive as Jor Mikan led his team down the Corridor. Graying flecks at his temples were the only indication of his experience on the court. His eyes, a uniquely bright brown, flipped about the narrower section of the court as he advanced. Two defenders approached him and drove him toward the wall of the Corridor. In a smooth motion, Joe ran toward the wall, took two steps up it and launched himself between the crashing opposing players. In mid-air, he spotted a teammate down the Corridor unguarded. He threw the heavy black ball toward the same wall he just caromed off and the ball bounced off ten feet down the Corridor and came to his waiting teammate on the opposite side of the corridor.

  A countdown began and Jor and the pair of opponents he had just outclassed ran at full speed toward the wider scoring end of the court.

  “Does he have to retire?” Davin asked Garreous with a wide smile. After the Quasars ran a successful scoring play, the crowd quieted slightly.

  “So, Garreous, how is your research coming along?” Micah placed an arm around the younger Cerans shoulders and the pair stepped toward the food. The background noise of the game greatly diminished once they came back into the suite. “I’ve read many of the reports from your team, I’d just like to hear from you on the matter.”

  “Of course, my King. The crown makes my research possible. I’m more than happy to update you whenever you like.” Garreous considered something for a moment, then spoke. “To begin, it’s come to my attention that I don’t… tailor how I discuss my research for my audience all that well. As a result, I’ve almost programmed myself to check in with people for… understanding as we work through the conversation.”

  Micah nodded, a friendly smile on his face. Garreous being comfortable was important, especially given the length and nature of his relationship with the Royal family. Micah’s test as a mimic for tonight hinged on the next few moments.

  “I only make this clear so those… check-in moments don’t seem condescending. You are, after all, my King.” Garreous’s nervousness slowed his speech to thoughtful fits and starts.

  “You need not concern yourself so, Garreous. I am funding your research. Discuss it with me as you would a patron, not a monarch.”

  “Of course, your Grace.”

  Over the young physicist’s shoulder, Micah caught Davin watching the pair’s conversation from the viewing deck. He gestured to Micah with a bit of a nod, offering assistance through his presence in the suite. Micah very slightly shook his head and Davin waved quickly with a full nod before turning his attention back to the game.

  “The challenge in my research is that so little of it can be practically tested. I primarily rely upon complex simulations of propulsion systems and the physics of outer space to test my theories. To be clear, I trust these simulations down to the binary coding which turns them on. They are absolutely the finest pieces of technology available today, and we have the generosity of the Crown to thank for that. But the more successful I was in creating a simulated engine which could approach and hopefully surpass the speed of light, a key physical reality has been standing in my way…”

  “That reality being?” Micah’s genuine interest took hold of him, and he impatiently twirled his hand.

  “Of course.” Garreous stammered for a moment, his calm dashed against his “King’s” insistence. “Simply that the mass of an object increases as the object’s speed approaches that of light… Theoretically, a physical object traveling at the speed of light would have infinite mass.”

  “So, building an engine that could propel an object faster than light is possible…” Micah trailed off, not entirely sure how to finish the thought. His voice was clearly hopeful.

  “Yes, Your Highness. It is possible, but whatever that vehicle carried would have infinite weight. People, equipment… It would be akin to trying to carry an Antisar ball across this room with a wet sheet of paper.” Garreous pointed a finger across the room for emphasis.

  The crowd roared once more, but Garreous and Micah barely noticed. Behind Garreous, Micah could see Davin leading loud cheers for both teams as the action reached a fever pitch.

  “So, if faster than light travel isn’t possible, where are we?” Micah asked, still enthralled by the topic.

  “That’s the thing, Your Majesty.” Garreous held up his pointer finger. “I believe faster than light travel is possible, just not in the conventional manner we’re discussing now. Think of space/time like a map, a flat piece of paper.” Garreous glanced around them for a moment then spied a cloth cover on a table to their left. He hurriedly picked up a decorative centerpiece and grabbed the cloth before replacing the centerpiece on the plain brown table. “Like this cloth, actually. Would you mind?”

  Garreous stopped a member of the waitstaff and held out one end of the napkin. Confused but compliant, the waiter took the corners and held the napkin tight and flat, Garreous doing the same with the other corners.

  “Imagine Ceres is here…” Garreous realized with some shame that he didn’t have a free hand to point to anything. Micah understood and placed his finger on the napkin near Garreous. “Yes. Thank you, your Grace. Now, imagine we wanted to travel somewhere eight inches away on our star map here.” Micah placed the pointer finger of his other hand a few inches from the first. “Again, thank you, my King. In reality, those two places are millions of light-years apart, tens of millions, if not hundreds of millions of light-years apart, impossible to traverse with conventional propulsion s
ystems.”

  “Equally as impossible with theoretical systems you’ve imagined as well, it sounds.”

  “Indeed.” Garreous took the other corners of the napkin with a polite nod to the waiter. “But, again, think of space/time like this cloth. What if we could create a massive pocket of energy which would fold space and time to bring our two points…” Garreous folded the napkin between Micah’s fingers and they held the cloth up between them after the scientist let go. “Together?”

  Awestruck into silence by Garreous’s intellect and the sheer complexity of the topic, Micah decided to await his next words, lest a question or comment suggest the “King’s” ignorance.

  “There are other options, of course, which are worthy of exploration and research. The existence of another state of space/time which exists side-by-side or atop the space/time we experience… Perhaps that layer of space/time has more lenient speed-to-mass relationship laws. Wormholes also present opportunities, but those require technology capable of influencing the opening, closing and terminal points of the wormholes…”

  “Like the gates?” Micah jumped back into the conversation, almost too excited to discuss something tangentially related to Earth.

  “Precisely. Like the gates, Your Highness.” Garreous nodded. Most didn’t correlate his technology reference to the gates so quickly. “We didn’t design the gates, as most know. We only found them in our exploration of deep space and discovered their function quite by accident.” Garreous stepped toward the bar and picked up a glass of light green liquid. The juice in the glass came from a fruit which was simultaneously sweet and slightly sour, a flavor combination some strongly disliked. It was Garreous’s favorite drink. The complexity of the flavor profile appealed to him in much the same way as his science.

  “How does one accidentally discover the function of space/time manipulating gates?” Micah asked. He stepped a bit nearer Garreous and his robe swept back and forth at his feet. “That seems… fortunate.”

  Garreous nodded in agreement.

  “It was before my time, Your Highness.” Garreous nodded curtly, the smile on his face belying the obviousness of his words. “But I believe the scouting party simply reassembled the gates and they activated.”

  “Amazing.” Micah replied. A roar from the crowd beyond the glass rose and shook the enclosure slightly.

  Both Micah and Garreous walked closer to the glass as lights flashed from the far end of the court. A scoring play by the Quasars (led by the seemingly ageless Jor Mikan) replayed on the massive screens above the court. Half the crowd cheered less heartily as the play ended.

  “So, Garreous…” Micah turned to face Garreous away from the action. “How did you come to be…” Micah waved his hand toward the young genius. “As you are?”

  “Overly verbose, your Majesty?” Garreous immediately shrunk, all too aware of how personally he was addressing a monarch. Nervousness swept his face and he dropped his gaze to the floor.

  “Garreous…” Micah searched for something a long-time quasi-father figure might say to the young man. “I simply meant that you’re very young and the position you occupy in our scientific community, it’s impressive.”

  “Thank you, your Majesty.” Garreous considered the King’s compliment for a moment. “I suppose it began early, most academic pursuits came to me naturally. I enjoyed learning and material which was… advanced for my age came easily to me.”

  Micah nodded as question occurred to him.

  “And why did you choose to pursue this field of scientific study, Garreous?”

  “Oh, I know this story!” Davin yelled as he almost ran past the pair. “Grandfather! Orbital station! No one to teach Gar to play cards!” The Royal’s cape fluttered a bit as he ran and flopped side-to-side for a moment after he stopped to survey the food. He greeted the Guardsman near the table warmly who responded with just a bit less formality than he had earlier with Micah.

  “That much is true, my King.” Garreous said with a smile, his head shaking with a pinch of disbelief as he watched Davin peruse the food. He turned back to Micah. “I did teach myself to play most card games as a child.” Embarrassment pulled at Garreous’s face and his regrouped. “But that’s not what you asked after, is it? My grandfather was the garrison chief for the primary orbital space station for the Filan containment team. My father died just after my third birthday and I was largely raised by his father.”

  “What was your grandfather’s name?” Micah asked.

  “Oron, my King.”

  “Oron…” Realization crept across Micah’s face, his eyes widened just slightly. “Oron of the Orbit was your….”

  “He was,” Garreous nodded, his somber expression muddled by a small, proud smile. Oron of the Orbit lived as legend among the Ceran people and was held in high esteem by the Hybrid community as well. With his final act, Oron greatly disrupted a Filan surprise attack on the Ceran orbital network around Filas and warned far-flung Ceran military installations of the threat. As King Artax reformed their society to bring the Hybrid people into a more stable station, rumors of horrifying treatments of humans and Hybrids throughout history by the Filan scientific community made Hybrids and the Cerans easy allies against Filas. “He led the only Hybrid action squad in our military at the time in battle on his station… He completed his mission and died in nearly the same moment, along with his Hybrid squad, as we heard it.”

  “The Howling Hybrids and Oron of the Orbit…” Reverence quieted Micah’s voice. In his youth, prior to a full understanding of his function, Micah trained secretly with Wes. The pair thought themselves sure locks for spots in a new Howling Hybrids squad, should a need for them ever arise.

  “Yes. I chose this field of study, my King, in the hopes that success would allow us to spread our civilization across the stars. Our conflict with Filos was rooted in many things, but proximity certainly didn’t help.”

  “Remind me, when did you and your family move to the Pillar?”

  Another roar from the crowd beyond the glass turned the attention of both genius and faux-monarch for a moment. Davin was nearly hanging over the bannister of the Royal Deck. He yelled to both fanbases in attendance, led team-specific cheers and couldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else…

  “I was eight, my King.”

  “And you’ve dedicated your entire life to a science which may change nearly everything about our people: where we live, how we see the universe around us…”

  “… and possibly make me the butt of jokes in the scientific community for the rest of my life…” Garreous finished the King’s sentence by taking his thought in an unexpected direction and his voice trailed away.

  “What makes you say such a thing, Garreous?”

  “Well, I…” Shame stole Garreous’s voice once more. Blood flushed Garreous’s face and he briefly sought a deep hole in the floor that might hide him from the world. A beat after the young physicist visualized himself running away from his monarch to avoid saying more, Garreous steeled himself. “Highness, my research has hit an impasse of sorts. I --”

  Garreous’s words were drowned by the crowd’s roar that flooded the suite. Davin and Aquis bounded into the suite, child-like grins across both faces. The pair made their way across the room, excited high-fives given to Guardsmen, attendants and waitstaff as they neared Micah and Garreous.

  “Did you see that, Father?” A sly smile flickered on Davin’s face for a moment, for Micah’s eyes only. “Mikan just score eight straight right before the half!” Davin, overcome with excitement recounting the action Micah and Garreous had missed, launched into a hurried retelling of thirty minutes of competition condensed into moments.

  As Davin continued his wide-eyed account of the game, Micah saw Garreous’s face slowly, slightly sag into a look of disappointment. Several of the black-clad Guardsmen moved toward Davin as he gestured and mimed the high points of the first half, every so often pulling the towering Aquis in as a stand-in for another player. They watch
ed and responded to his story with nearly unchanged faces, Davin’s excitement only nudging away some stoicism for a beat or two. Unlike the Guardsmen, the waitstaff Davin also regaled matched his expression and energy level, even becoming part of a couple reenactments.

  As the noise level and focus of the room stayed on Davin, Micah found a moment to step away toward the long tables filled with all sorts of food. Ceran culinary wonders from every region colored the otherwise monochromatic serving area. The server behind the table nervously bowed to his King as he gingerly placed a small finger sandwich upon the plate Micah carried.

  With little warning, a Guardsman appeared beside Micah, though he kept a respectful distance. “My King, would you like me to hold your plate?” The Guardsmen’s bright brown eyes almost shimmered as he smiled at Micah. The smile immediately struck the Faux-King as odd, given the prevalence of Stoicism in the man’s trade. “It would be an honor, Your Highness.” He held out a hand, patient but firm in his desire to assist his King.

  “I—” Micah hesitated for a moment, then handed the plate over. “Thank you. What is your name, Guardsman?”

  “I am Horon, your Majesty.” Horon bowed deeply then glanced about for a moment, clearly unsure how to converse with his King.

  “You needn’t be nervous, Horon. I’m not much different from you, really.” Micah began to replay a conversation he’d been witness to years prior between Artax and a similarly nerve-wracked chef. “I was born to a role which I perform for the good of our people. I serve you in the same way you serve people at these events. My service comes with more…” Micah gestured to his purple-lined cape briefly. “… well, spectacle, I suppose is the word…”

  Horon nodded slowly. “That does seem to be the right word, Highness.”

  Incredibly, the recordings of conversations like this Micah had reviewed during training almost universally came to the same point, quickly. “Highness…” Horon began with some hesitance, those sparkling brown eyes focused everywhere but Micah’s face. “You were born to lead millions… How do you…?”