Micah Trace and the Shattered Gate

by Eric Swanson

  “Death is the final change, Your Majesty,” Namann said. “And it comes for every living creature, every star, every planet. It is the one truly universal experience shared among all life and all things.”

  “Still dark.” Susa whispered to herself. She flashed shining blue eyes at Garreous then smiled.

  Her smile faded the moment Susa saw her mother’s face. A quick disapproving glance was all the Princess needed to rein herself in.

  Near the front of the gallery, Minister Tobiah slowly raised his hand. Intent upon recognizing (and perhaps restoring) court protocol, the gray eyed legal genius quietly awaited recognition.

  “Minister Tobiah,” The Queen gestured to him with a warm smile. “You would like to contribute to our discussion, it seems?”

  “We’ve yet to discuss a single simple fact that answers the question of extra-planetary life…” The square-jawed graying lawyer sauntered toward the podium. He swung the gate open with the flair of a performer and it squeaked quickly. A lower, longer noise came as it shut behind him. “The gates existed long before the dawn of our society.”

  Tobiah turned toward Garreous and cocked his head slightly. He awaited agreement.

  “The barrister is correct. The gates seem to predate our First Age by millennia.” Garreous nodded and turned to address the Queen. Garreous drew a breath and held up a finger. “Ho-“

  “Exactly.” Tobiah leapt back into the conversation. “As our young genius says so clearly, the gates do predate our society. It would stand to reason that some oth-“

  Garreous cleared his throat loudly, twice. He and Susa shared another quick look and she nodded.

  “Barrister.” Garreous spoke with more steel in his voice. “They predate our society, but not our race. It is entirely possible that the gates were built and used by early, technologically advanced peoples who previously inhabited our world. There are numerous locales across our world which suggest the existence and sudden departure of large groups of people.”

  “I would hardly imagine someone like you to be swayed by theories, my young friend.” Sanballat spoke slowly, the condescension in his voice now matched by the expression on his face.

  “Faster than light travel was nothing more than a theory until we found those gates, Minister. Some solder and a flipped switch turned theory into practiced science.” Garreous paused as a thought returned to him which had overtaken his mind in several more private moments. “My Queen… The Crown has tasked me with bringing far-flung star systems into reach for our people…”

  Garreous paused in search of permission from Queen Hanani to press forward.

  “We have, yes.” The Queen nodded. She gestured for Garreous to carry on.

  “I have said… on many occasions, that the study of these gates would lead to immeasurable amounts of data and practical exposure to a faster than light system ripe for reverse engineering and all other manner of research.”

  He paused once more. The Queen narrowed her eyes and focused her attention on Garreous. Susa did the same, but her face fell slightly with each of Garreous’s sentences.

  “I need to see these gates, fully understand them through up-close experience.”

  A loud clamor rose from the gallery once again.

  Susa’s face continued to shift toward something resembling defeat as her mother raised a hand to quiet the crowd.

  “It has been made clear that the humans would not receive a visit to their star system from us warmly.” The Queen nodded toward Pollai and Kaymar. “If you can devise a way for an expeditionary group to approach as a friendly entity….” The Queen paused for a moment. While she and Artax shared full power over the affairs of Ceran, she knew her next words would cause a stir in the Pillar and beyond. “Then I will happily permit and fully support your mission, provided you do something for me, Garreous.”

  “Anything, my Queen.” Garreous nodded a bit more rapidly than he intended and quickly felt shame at his eagerness.

  “Find the Third World.”

  His mind abuzz at all the mentions of the gates, other races, the Third World and Earth, Micah instantly knew that the shortest path to his objective was helping Garreous accomplish his goals. As the crowd around him were dismissed from Court by the Queen then the Court Caller, Micah sat silently rehearsing his conversation on the trip with King Artax.

  Chapter Eight

  (The Seventh Day)

  0330 Hours

  After the Court session, Micah had returned to his apartment and done little else aside research Earth and the people of the planet. His people, by half anyway. He stared far too long at the soft blue three-dimensional projection of the globe, zooming in on cities, mountain ranges and bodies of water. There was so much water on Earth, Micah could hardly imagine humans did much more than swim from place to place. He read files on their leaders (the information in some cases was hundreds of years old and in every instance incomplete), conflicts and major events up to the Gathering.

  Unlike Ceran and Hybrid cultures which focused most of their competitive recreational energy into one sport (Antisar), Earthlings had several wildly popular sports. Some were heavily regionalized, others more globally enjoyed. Micah marveled at the variety of sport Earthlings participated in…

  All of this research meant hours spent staring at artificial light and field reports from several more recent Earth expeditions. Micah fell asleep in the middle of reading a report written by the commanding officer of Eaton’s expeditionary group. The report mentioned Micah’s Hybrid mentor and Mimic predecessor in a very complimentary tone in several passages. As luck would have it, the data pads Micah used to access these reports, maps and other information were hermetically sealed and entirely waterproof.

  The blue light of the projected image of Earth covered Micah as he slept. The image rotated slowly, to scale with the daily rotation of the planet itself. Blue light flickered over Micah as cities, rivers and mountains passed him.

  A small puddle of drool lay on the screen beneath Micah’s face. His cheek wasn’t equally waterproofed and the spittle soaked his skin a bit as a result.

  “Micah.” SAMI broke the silence in his apartment without warning, at full volume. “Rooman and Reeman are on their way for you.”

  “I—” Micah sat up with a quick motion. Some of his drool flew across the table and through the Earth projection. The blue light caught the liquid and threw reflected light in a few directions as it passed through and Micah blinked 0hard against the small flashes of azure. The back of his hand wiped the rest away from his face. “Do I have time to—”

  Three hard knocks at his door both stopped and answered his question. The Twins had arrived.

  Micah crossed his apartment and plucked the ever-present black hooded garment from the table near his door. “Let them know I’ll be right out, SAMI.”

  “Of course, Micah.” SAMI replied. A muted version of the AI’s voice could be heard beyond Micah’s door, but he could only guess exactly what it said.

  Micah pulled the jacket on, flipped the hood into place over his head then opened the door.

  Both Rooman and Reeman stood in the entryway. They faced the door rather than standing sentry with their backs to it as usual. Grave looks on their faces told Micah all he needed to know.

  “Eaton.” He whispered.

  They nodded in unison.

  “Let’s go.”

  The three, clad all in black, made their way into the night. Cool air rushed past them and fluttered Micah’s hood as they broke into a near sprint toward Eaton’s apartment.

  Eaton’s Apartment

  0355 Hours

  Eaton’s door flew open and an unusually haggard Gale greeted Micah. The bags under her eyes were far more pronounced than the last time he’d seen her, and Gale’s eyes were almost unnaturally bloodshot red. The remainder of recently issued tears glistened in paths down her cheeks.

  “Micah,” Gale whispered. She tried to smile a bit but sobbed before she quickly covered her mouth.
The nurse took a step toward Micah and pulled him in for a hug. She whispered again, her lips close to Micah’s ear. “I’m glad you came so quickly. He’s been asking for you.”

  Gale stepped away from Micah and led him through the short corridor into Eaton’s room. As before, he lay on the bed, several machines around him intoning, though now arrhythmically. Their song was off-beat and Micah immediately thought the tones were too high.

  In the short time since their last visit, Eaton’s color scheme had shifted from light-flesh colored to something far more ashen. The old Hybrid’s blue eyes were more sunken into his face and they welled with tears as he hacked dry coughs.

  “Eaton.” Micah spoke with quiet horror.

  “Hey Mike.” Eaton said. He greeted Micah through nearly shut eyelids as he coughed again. “What’s new with you?”

  “Eh,” Micah said with a shrug. Tears streaked down his face as he smiled and tried to feign nonchalance. “Losing sleep and running around the in dark… You know…” Micah sniffed loudly and wiped a few tears away. “Nothing new.”

  “You haven’t seen dark, my friend.” Eaton coughed again, with more violence this time. His skin looked so thin Micah briefly worried it might tear like paper while the old man hacked. “Not until that orange star in our sky is about the size of an Antisar ball through a ship’s window.”

  “What’s it like?” Micah asked after a deep breath.

  “An Antisar ball?” Eaton raised both pale hands in front of his face and made a circle with his fingers, thumbs and pointers a few inches apart. With a smile and bloodshot wink, he pressed on. “It’s about this bi—”

  More violent coughing cut off the joke and Micah saw a small bit of blood fly from Eaton along with his saliva. Gale rushed toward Eaton’s side so quickly Micah was sure she’d appeared rather than walked into the room. She pressed a damp white cloth to his mouth and wiped away more blood and saliva mixture.

  “How many times have I told you the same thing, Eaton?” Gale asked as she straightened his sheets then buttoned his white loose cloth shirt which has slipped open during a coughing fit. “It’s only going to hurt when you laugh, so…”

  “No more jokes.” Eaton said, a slight smile below sullen, tired eyes. “Jokes are for the living, Micah.” Eaton craned his neck a bit around Gale and winked at Micah once more. After another cough, Eaton settled back into the bed. He smiled more broadly and locked eyes with Gale. As firmly as his state allowed, Eaton squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Gale.”

  A nearly identical pattern of tears streamed down Eaton and Gale’s faces. For a moment, Micah’s presence in the room seemed unnecessary, interfering even.

  “Gale’s probably been with me too long, Micah.” The old Hybrid spoke without breaking eye contact with the nurse. “How many of her war stories has she told you?”

  Both smiled but Gale quickly shrugged and waved a hand in Eaton’s direction, dismissive.

  “No, no…” Eaton said, a little hoarse with another cough coming on. “Quite the hero she was, Mike.” Over time and many long nights swapping stories with Wes, Eaton came to occasionally use the younger Hybrid’s nickname for Micah. Another coughing fit came, and Gale took a moment off from deflecting glory to dab Eaton’s mouth again.

  “Really?” Micah asked, happy to divert the conversation away from Eaton’s health (or lack thereof).

  Gale floated around the bed, straightening Eaton’s sheets and double-checking machines, all while she continued to wave away Eaton’s praise.

  “I was doing what anyone would have done: fixing bleeding, broken men.” Gale said. She glanced down at the blood-spattered white cloth in her hand and fixated upon it for a beat. Micah could almost hear the chaos of a Third-Filan-War era triage unit echoing around them as she stared blankly for a beat. “But now, I just fix old men, right E?”

  “Not much fixing going on here, lady…” Eaton’s smile came again, weaker than Micah was used to seeing.

  With each breath, Eaton seemed to be working harder to draw the next.

  “The raw materials with which I’m working…” Gale said with a sly smile, her face still soaked in stray tears. She kiddingly shrugged as her voice trailed off.

  “Fair point.” Eaton replied before hacking again. The coughs sounded progressively more wet and Eaton struggled to wipe away blood and saliva from his mouth. After a moment, Gale swept back in and finished the job for him. A mix of gratitude and resigned shame marked his face while he nodded to her again in appreciation. Eaton shook his head slightly and the motion seemed to knock his thoughts away from the state of his body. “So… Space. You want to know what it’s like?”

  ”Are you up to that?” Micah asked. He slid into a chair next to Eaton’s bed and squeaked/slid it nearer. “I don’t want to…” He shrugged and dropped his eyes to the white, woven rubber tile beneath them.

  “Kill me?” Eaton said with a short laugh.

  Micah smiled again and shook his head slowly. Eaton’s blunt approach to his waning mortality didn’t surprise the Mimic, but it was still jarring.

  “Talking to you and Gale about Antisar, space, wars, fixing people…” Eaton trailed off and extended his hand to Micah. It shook a bit as he held it out before Micah took it and squeezed. “That won’t be what does it, Mike.” Eaton let Micah’s hand go without another word.

  After a quiet moment and a few more violent coughs, Eaton leaned back against his pillow and looked lost in thought. He spoke to Micah, still staring at the ceiling. “Did I ever tell you how long it took me to adjust to gravity after my first trip?”

  “You’ve mentioned that it wasn’t pleasant…” Micah said. He leaned slightly toward the old Hybrid.

  “Back before they really figured out artificial gravity, after a return trip, you’d spend weeks… weeks in this series of environments.” Eaton stacked his hands atop each other then moved the lower hand above the other. “They did it to adjust you back over time. Step by step.” His hands changed from higher-hand to lower-hand a couple times for emphasis.

  “Was each stage the same length?”

  “I don’t-“ Eaton began. Consideration and memory-mining twisted his face. “They were for me, but all my trips were the same length… Earth and back. Shorter trips, longer trips, they were probably on different programs when they got back.”

  “There are longer trips than going to Earth?”

  “Oh,” Clarity knocked some of the pain away from Eaton’s face and Micah saw something in his eyes that didn’t appear often: fear. “Can’t talk about that. Sorry, Mike.”

  “Still?” Micah asked. The Mimic’s face flushed with shame when he realized how plainly he’d referred to Eaton’s impending demise. “Sorry.” Micah whispered and averted his eyes from Eaton.

  “Always and forever.” Eaton tapped his temple with two fingers. “Some things they want me to take with me when I go.” Eaton laughed and waved his hand at Micah for a moment. “And quit apologizing every time we admit that I’m dying, Micah.”

  “You know,” Gale swept back into the room and laid another white blanket over Eaton. “For someone who needs so much right now, you’re pretty pushy.” After her jab, Gale smiled at Micah across the foot of Eaton’s deathbed, her eyes welling with fresh tears.

  “I just want everyone to remember me as I was.” Eaton gestured to himself, lying down then to the machines at his side. “Not as… this.” Eaton took a deep, ragged breath, punctuated with a cough. “Alright, enough of… whatever that was. Let’s talk about space, shall we?”

  “Please.” Micah said with a smile. He took in everything around him for a beat, as Micah knew his time with Eaton was nearing its end. A photo Micah had never noticed caught his attention across the room. It hung at the end of a row of pictures Micah was sure he’d perused hundreds of times. In the photo, Eaton stood next to a boy who looked like a perfect copy of him in miniature.

  Eaton had a clone, younger. From the look of the photo, it was taken during the Third Filan
War.

  For a quiet beat of a moment, Micah stared at the boy in the picture, awestruck. As the question of how Micah had never noticed that picture nor the boy hopped around his head, Eaton pressed on.

  “This probably isn’t a surprise, but the most consistent issue once you leave orbit is staying warm.” Eaton said with a shrug. “I know that’s not the most interesting place to start when talking about interstellar travel, but I don’t have any “… and then the massive, brightly colored Space Monster destroyed our ship!” stories.”

  Micah laughed for a moment before he realized that Eaton already knew something Micah himself hadn’t fully grasped: Micah wanted to leave Ceres and was entirely committed to traveling to Earth. He’d had vague feelings and already lined up some key supporters for his mission (a mission which still lacked a clear objective, other than arrival on Earth) … but Eaton accepted the journey as a certainty, a foregone conclusion.

  “Bring cards.” Eaton said with another bloodshot-eyed wink. “And a handful of people you could stand to float through nothing with in an ice-cold tin can.”

  “So Sanballat definitely makes the cut…” Micah said. After a moment, a smirk slid over his lips.

  “Tobiah, too, while you’re at it.”

  The pair laughed together for a moment before Eaton began coughing again, though this time the fit lasted far longer. Just before he stopped coughing, the older man’s face began to flush with a slight purple shade. When it became clear that the coughing wasn’t going to end on its own, Micah sat Eaton up and clapped him on the back a few times.

  “Gale!” He turned toward the hallway and yelled again: “Gale!”

  The nurse came bounding back into the room and Eaton’s fit slowly faded. Over the course of a few minutes, he reclaimed a stable breathing pattern and repeatedly waved off additional help from Gale with a flopping hand.