by Eric Swanson
Micah flashed Wes a look of mixed regret and disappointment. “No, I…”
“Shut up, Mike.” Wes nudged Micah’s shoulder with his and the King’s Mimic leaned back in. “What?”
“I’m serious. This is… crazy.” Micah steeled himself after he stared at the ground hundreds of feet below then the Pillar for a moment. “I’m going to ask you to give up everything you know and follow me. I--”
“I’m in.” Wes answered without hesitation.
“—need you to kn-“ Micah froze mid-sentence and turned back to Wes. He shook his head for a moment. “No, Wes, this is real… I’m going somewhere and I don’t…”
“Don’t care.” Wes stepped toward Micah and gripped the Mimic’s shoulder. “I said ‘I’m in.’”.
The pair walked down the steel path side by side for a few moments in silence. Without looking Micah’s direction, Wes asked a question.
“Where we headed, Mike?”
Micah’s usually shining blue eyes darkened between his furrowed eyebrows. Tense and breathless, Micah’s answer came in a low voice.
“Earth.”
The Temple of Ahma
0900 Hours
A few hours and a sunrise cup of coffee later, Micah stood at the massive, ornate wooden doors of the Temple of Ahma. Half the height of the Pillar, the Temple was built of the same rough-hewn stone as the seat of the Crown. Somehow, thousands of years after the structure was built, a faint scent of fresh cut wood hung in the air around it. A gray-robed monk stepped to the side of the doors and pulled one open with considerable effort.
Wood-scent laden air mixed with a slightly stale breeze from inside the temple and both swirled past Micah’s face as he walked in. Similar to the narthex of the Pillar, the ceiling was covered in black granite and it sparkled like the night sky. The black granite in the ceiling contrasted with the crème white stone on the floor.
Another gray-clad monk padded past Micah, his shoeless feet silently traveling along the cool stone floor.
“Excuse me.” Micah broke the silence in the anteroom and was immediately thankful he hadn’t made his way into the sanctuary (where all conversation unrelated to worship or theology is forbidden). The absent gaze of the monk came up and the holy man started at the sight of Micah’s hood. “I’m sorry…” An apology for the both interruption and concealing his face in Ahma’s House (usually forbidden, too). “I’m…” Micah paused and extended his hand, which the monk accepted.
“I know you, Hood.” The monk’s voice was a bit high, nasally and nerve-shaken. “High Priest Boleen is teaching. Young ones, I believe.” He pointed down a corridor to their left, further in the direction he’d been headed. The monk hesitated for a beat when Micah didn’t immediately take up the path toward the hallway. “Allow me to escort you. This way, please.”
Micah fell in behind the nude-footed monk and they left the narthex. The monk led Micah toward a lit doorway further down the corridor in silence. As they approached the light that splashed into the hall and the entry, Boleen’s voice bounced around.
“Not exactly, Ria.” The holy man paused and his voice quieted as he moved further from the doorway. “It’s more like pieces of a machine. Imagine your HomeServ robot was missing an actuator in an arm. How would it move furniture to clean your floors?”
“It might need help.” A small voice squeaked in reply.
“That’s exactly right.” Pride was evident in Boleen’s affirmation. “Ahma, Va and Saras are all part of the same entity but they serve their own purposes, different but each cooperative with the other two. Ahma created and continues to create all we are and everything we see… Jeema, what are the Words of Ahma?”
“All is made, nothing destroyed.” Another high voice responded.
“Yes. Good. And Reeman—”
Micah started at the mention of his guard’s name as he stepped into the light of the doorway. Surely, Reeman isn’t—Ah.
Micah was left ashamed of his briefly held dim assumption that an adult member of the Koro-Koo would be in Boleen’s class for children. Micah watched as the guard’s tiny namesake straightened in his seat, fully ready to proudly answer Boleen’s next question. “—what do the Words of Ahma mean?”
“They mean…” Mini-Reeman’s face crunched with swift thought, his brown eyes lost for a moment behind a flop of black hair over them. “That Ahma makes everything…” A light giggle started from a few desks furthest from Boleen but an admonishing glance stopped it. “…. And that nothing he makes ever goes away…”
“Right. But it can change, right Reeman?” Boleen smiled warmly and nodded slowly to coax the proper response from the boy.
“Yeah, right, things can change.” Reeman stammered his answer and let a sigh of relief go when Boleen’s focus moved away from him.
“So, Duma,” Boleen noticed Micah at the back of his classroom and nodded slightly. He didn’t want the attention of his class turned away from the discussion at hand and the Hooded One’s presence would turn everyone’s attention to Micah. “Which aspect of the Godhead is responsible for that process of change?”
Micah sensed Boleen’s desire and settled in against the back wall, intrigued and entertained by this juvenile theology discussion.
“Va.” A thin, brown-skinned girl answered with confidence.
“Yes.” Boleen nodded. “And wha-“
“Change is existence’s only constant.”
“are—” Boleen’s question was answered before he finished it by his class’s greatest overachiever. Every educator in the Pillar knew Duma. She was the brightest mind in her class and easily the most intellectually gifted child Boleen had ever met (save for perhaps Garreous). “Yes.”
“High Priest Boleen?” Duma’s small hand shot into the air as Boleen began to step toward another cluster of desks.
“Yes, Duma?”
“Why…” Duma paused. She shook her head for a moment and mumbled something under her breath. “The followers of Va tend to see violence as a tool to achieve their goals or send messages.”
“Some, yes.” Boleen usually welcomed nuanced discussions on the topic of faith and how it influences behavior. Today, Duma aside, the group with him skewed young. A small smile later, he turned away from Duma and stepped back toward the front of the classroom. “The thir—”
“Why?”
Boleen twisted back and faced his students. His eyes immediately fell to Duma again. A friendly smile folded some of the wrinkles in his aging face and Boleen cocked his head to a side just slightly.
“What was that, Duma?”
Micah watched from the back of the room as Duma, previously so assured, shrunk a bit under this new focus from her instructor. “I just…” Once more, Duma shook off her apprehension and pressed forward. “The principles of the Godhead Aspects are all so different from the others… Why do those following Va attack those who follow other Aspects?”
“That’s a good question, Duma.” Boleen's appreciation for girl’s mind found new purpose. “I think some of the teachings of Va about change can easily be misread. Instead of being ready for and appreciating change…” Boleen gestured as he took a drink from a steaming cup on his desk.
“They force change.” Duma said, her tone uniquely mixing disgust and curiosity. “I’ve always wondered what a conversation between you and the other High Priests would sound like… Nemann’s rhetoric is usually pretty dark and Salking usually sounds like he’s…”
“Bored?” Boleen asked.
Several of the children around him laughed again, just for a moment.
“I was going to say thoughtful, High Priest…” Duma smiled, her humor belying her age. “But ‘bored’ isn’t far off, I suppose.”
“Unfortunately, we’re running low on time for today, Duma. Let’s talk through the third Aspect of the Godhead, Saras. Followers of Saras pursue…”
“Knowledge.” The class filled in with one voice.
“Right.” Boleen held up three fingers.
“Three Aspects of the Godhead, three distinct views on the role our God plays in the lives of His children. Who’s right? It’s a question that most struggle with in their youth, before they choose a path for themselves…”
“How did you choose, High Priest?” Duma asked.
“A discussion for another time, I’m afraid, Duma.” Boleen said. A light commotion rose as the children began to gather their supplies. Boleen’s voice rose slightly to compensate. “For next time, please be sure to study the early writings of Saras’s first two prophets. The first two. Alright. Class dismissed.”
More scattered conversations began as the children left their desks, but every single discussion wilted to silence when the kids saw the Hood at the back of the room. Duma didn’t move from her desk after she stood, instead staring at the Hood. She studied Micah while the rest of the children departed.
“I told you he was real…” Mini-Reeman whispered to a far smaller boy who walked beside him. They both moved to give Micah a wide berth as they passed.
Micah dipped his head lower to avoid the revelation of any part of his face to the passing students. Once the clamor ceased, Micah tried to sneak a glance around the classroom he hoped was devoid of children.
By the grace of Ahma, Duma (the last child who remained) had turned to Boleen to ask a question. Micah immediately dropped his head again and the little scholar turned toward the motion before she said anything to Boleen.
To Micah’s horror, he heard small footfalls coming his way.
“Hello, Mr…” Duma began as she approached. She averted her eyes from Micah’s hood. “Hood. You don’t need to be nervous. I think I know… what you are.” She leaned nearer to Micah and whispered. “The purpose you serve is very important. Thank you.”
She left and Boleen approached a moment later.
“She may be smarter than Garreous,” Boleen said as he settled in next to Micah. “And we’re relying on him to save our entire race.” Boleen slid a few misplaced chairs back under desks on his way toward Micah. “So, what can I do for you, Micah?”
“I need…” Micah draw a long breath to calm himself. Behind the hood that still shaded his face, Micah met Boleen’s eyes. “I need a favor.”
“Of course.”
“It’s… big.”
“You’re here unannounced. I wouldn’t expect something less than critical.” Boleen gestured to a pair of chairs at the front of the room and both sat. “So, should I pray before we get into this, Micah?”
“You’re welcome to,” Micah replied before a small shrug. His shoulders stayed a little slumped and what came next was nearly a whisper. “Still not convinced I really know how, so I’ll let you lead.”
“Ahma, Creator of All and Lord Over All Things Created, we give, in this moment, a piece of ourselves to be molded, changed and made into something more pleasing to your sight and purpose.” Boleen spoke slowly, reverent. “We ask only that what’s made from that which we offer you in prayer be useful and beneficial to your purposes. We, the Created, ask for your hand to touch ours as we work to satisfy your wants… In the name of Our Creator, we ask for guidance and wisdom to make our world pleasing to Him…”
At the end of his prayer, Boleen let silence hang between them for a moment. Micah’s bowed head hadn’t risen, so Boleen patiently stared at the top of his hood.
“Prayer’s over, isn’t it?” Micah said from behind the hood.
“It is.” Boleen said. He waved a hand around his own face. “If you’d be more comfortable, you can feel free to drop your hood, Micah. The House of Ahma is safe.”
Micah flipped the hood down and reflexively glanced around the room.
Boleen nodded once with that same warm smile and Micah relaxed.
“Good.” Boleen said. “So, we’re here to discuss…” The holy man’s head leaned to one side and he waited.
“I need to leave.” Micah said quietly after a deep sigh.
“But you just got here…” Boleen joked in an attempt to ease Micah’s tension.
“Right.” Micah replied with a laugh. After a moment of levity, Micah met Boleen’s eyes with a serious sky-blue gaze. “We’ve talked a lot about my purpose, my calling… and I think I’ve found it, but it… isn’t here.”
“Protecting the King isn’t calling enough?” Boleen asked, conversational in tone, no judgement.
“I can help more people, Boleen… Billions.”
“How?”
“The people of Earth are sick and dying… Because they’re afraid of u-“ Micah stopped. “Your people, coming back, taking more of their people.”
“But they don’t know that we don’t need any more of them.” Boleen’s tone reminded Micah of someone just finished grocery shopping.
Even the holy men here think of us a resource… Micah thought.
“So, how does someone like you help them?”
“They need to see me. They need to see… what happened after their people were taken.” Micah took a deep breath and Boleen jumped into the silence with a question.
“Are you going to ask me to accompany you?” Boleen smiled.
“I think you’re more needed here, as much as I’d love to drag you to the stars with me…” Micah’s joke seemed to land and the two shared a quiet moment of levity. A pair of deep, long breaths later, Micah pressed toward the purpose of his visit. “Boleen… I don’t need you to come with me… But I do need your help with this….” Micah twirled fingers absently and tried to find the right word to describe his undertaking. “Mission.”
“Your calling.” Boleen said as he nodded toward Micah. The holy man put a reassuring hand on Micah’s shoulder. “Whatever is within my power to do for you, Micah… You have my word as a Servant of Ahma: I’ll do it.”
“You may come to regret taking this up before you know the ask, Boleen.” Micah said, his sky-blue eyes locked onto the older man’s. “I need to leave… and I need you to convince the King to let me.”
The Pillar Throne Room
1015 Hours
Micah took his seat in the Throne Room of the Pillar almost half an hour before any Courtiers arrived. Alone in the massive open room, a few of the calming words Micah whispered to himself echoed off the shining stone surfaces.
“They’re going to talk about Earth. You’re going to listen. They know things you’ll need to know…” Micah’s mantra repeated with a final line added every few rounds: “Don’t say anything, don’t stand.”
Micah’s hood flopped about slightly as he mumbled to himself. The motion of the hood lent a far more animated appearance to Micah than typical. As part of his training and out of respect for the Royal Family, Micah tried never to draw undue attention at Court. During Court in his younger days, Micah would entertain himself by silently reciting the names, locations and characteristics of many different lists: the rivers, mountain ranges and continents of Ceran, stellar constellations, Antisar statistics and memorable plays, almost anything which could be listed. The repetition of this exercise and the research necessary to find lists lengthy enough to get through entire sessions at court made Micah a fair conversationalist on a number of topics.
Today, his conversation was a one player game.
“They’re going to talk about Earth…”
A handful of Koro-Koo entered the room from the Royal entry at the front. Those who knew Rooman and Reeman nodded in Micah’s direction. None of them knew Micah’s face nor did they know his name. The twins spoke highly of the Hood and their cohorts respected his complete dedication to the Crown because it equaled their own.
The Hood tipped lower in acknowledgement of their greetings.
“There’s no way you can really believe that, Santi!” The last Koro-Koo to greet Micah almost yelled at the other black-clad soldier who walked with him.
“Everybody thinks Mikan is the best Hybrid player ever…” Santi nodded toward the other Koro-Koo. “You think you’re smarter than everybody?”
“I think I watch a lot mo
re Antisar than most. I—”
Both Koro Koo straightened as Queen Hanani entered the Throne Room (unexpectedly) from the public entry at the back of the room. A lavender gown was overlaid by a cape a far deeper shade of royal purple. Micah angled his head slightly when he saw the pair cut their conversation short and come to attention.
Both dropped to one knee as the Queen and her half-dozen members of the Royal Care approached. They lowered their faces and bowed as she passed. The Queen stopped a step past them and turned to face her kneeling protectors.
“Rise.” Her soft tone was reinforced with strength and authority. As both rose, they towered over Hanani. She settled her sky-blue eyes on them and smiled. “I thank you for your service and dedication to my family. The Koro Koo hold a revered place in our society because of that commitment. So long as my husband sits the throne, so shall it ever be.”
Santi and his cohort deeply bowed their heads once more and the Queen reciprocated, though shallower. She continued toward the throne and stopped once more when she noticed Micah. Her members of the Royal Care took seats across the aisle from Micah and all quietly face the empty thrones.
“Micah.” The Queen whispered. Not only was Micah’s (Artax’s?) face a closely guarded secret, his name was as well. Hanani spoke it in a hushed tone in greeting before taking a more conversational volume. “I wasn’t expecting you in Court today. To what do we owe this pleasure?”
Micah stood and their identical sky-blue eyes met for a moment before the hood fell back into place over the Mimic’s face. “My Queen.” Micah bowed deeply as the Koro Koo had and Hanani repeated her return nod, a bit deeper for Micah. “I understand that Kaymar and Pollai are coming before the Crown once more with details of their voyage.”
“They are, indeed.” Hanani said. “A voyage my husband and his previous scientific advisors argued against for some time.”
“I didn’t know that.” Surprise flashed over Micah’s face for a beat. “Why would they fight against space exploration?”
