Then Aeson gets another call from the Imperator and steps aside to talk softly.
I inhale a deep breath and take the opportunity to finally relieve Tamira of her misery of waiting for me to get a grip. We sit down at a small table and go over about a dozen documents on her tablet screen—the originals in Atlanteo, with English translations provided for my benefit. I read each one closely, make my digital signature in the designated places, and Tamira follows each one with her unique Arbiter authentication code, marking my signatures as “formally witnessed” by a legal professional and therefore legally binding. The whole thing takes at least twenty minutes, and when we’re done, I feel a weird burden both lifted and added to my virtual shoulders.
It’s the burden of new responsibility.
The right to vote. I was never old enough to vote on Earth. Will I now be able to cast a vote here, in this system described as an Imperial Democracy? My mind starts to spin off on a tangent as I think about that amazing privilege.
Tamira sends the digital documents to the court network, turns off her tablet, and looks at me. “All that remains is for me to authenticate the documents received and reviewed in person before the judge—another ceremonial formality. But before I go, I must remind you about your Champion Personal Request filing and your share of the Champion Earnings Grail.”
“Oh, yes!” I say. “Where and how do I do that?”
Tamira points to Aeson. “As your official sponsor in the Games, the Imperial Lord has the information sent to him. It’s a simple online form for each Champion to fill out where you state your wishes and preferences for your prize fulfillment. Just don’t forget to take care of it promptly. They give you a week to think it over before making your final choice decisions. But—don’t think too long. Some popular things might get claimed by other Champions in the course of their own wishes, and if such a conflict arises, it’s first come, first served. If I were in your place, I would do it tonight.”
In other words, she is suggesting I need to grab what’s mine while I can. She has no idea what I plan to file as my personal wish request. Oh, if only she knew. . . . For that matter, if only I knew!
But, no—I do know. I know very well, and I’ll be discussing it with im amrevu as soon as we’re alone.
Now that our official business is concluded, Tamira gives me a nod, both courtly and efficient. Then she looks around the room and makes a point of waving to Dawn and Blayne—but not Erita—right before she leaves.
“Congratulations, janik, you are legally a citizen!” Hasmik comes up to me and gives my arm a light squeeze. “Now you must eat and rest!”
I follow Hasmik to the serving tables. Gordie’s already there with a heaping plate of food that could easily feed a family, and Aeson moves in to stand very close to me while Keruvat is filling his own plate. Aeson’s arm comes around me from behind, and I feel his firm hand slide down my lower back and linger there, sending an unexpected and sweet chill sensation throughout me.
“Tonight,” he says, leaning near my ear. “We can rest, finally. . . . My Father has no new instructions for us regarding the ark-ship. Not until we figure out this moon and its connection.”
“Even though the ship is active and the possible alien threat remains?” I ask.
Aeson just looks at me with a soft expression in his eyes. “Yes, even so. But first, a long afternoon of work.”
“By the way, I’ve already decided on my personal wishes as Champion,” I tell him.
My Bridegroom smiles. “I can only begin to guess what those wishes are.”
“I bet you can’t guess this one.” I tug at the long sleeve of my Games uniform that’s still glowing neon-white, over the fine viatoios armor layer underneath. “My most immediate wish is to take off this evil thing and never have to wear it again! In fact—going to do it right now. Not going to eat until I do—”
And with those words I head upstairs to my closet to make this easy little wish a reality.
By early evening, after several more pilot scouting team missions gather seemingly endless data, the SPC turns in all the preliminary findings to its Commander. I watch as Aeson himself consolidates the findings into the official report for the agencies, which in turn submit their individual analyses to the governing bodies of all participating nations.
In an effort to control the effect and impact of the news, the Imperator and the Imperial Executive Council rush to approve and issue a formal statement to the media—it recognizes the newly discovered moon object, but without giving much detail otherwise, nor mentioning any connection to the ark-ship situation. However, the Imperial Atlantida statement still comes a few minutes late, after New Deshret already issued its own public statement first.
Then, like falling dominoes, one after another, similar announcements are released around the globe by the various governing bodies and heads of state.
And the media goes wild.
Ghost Moon!
Suddenly everyone is talking about all the common terms and references, all the myths and old proverbs. The Ghost Moon is the fourth month of each season, and there are “Ghost” mentions in other places on the calendar, such as Ghostday, and the twice-daily Ghost Time, and numerous other even more sneaky common terms that seem to permeate Atlantean culture.
“It seems obvious in retrospect, the Ghost Moon did not just appear now, but was always here, orbiting Atlantis,” a woman panelist speaks on a roundtable talk show of experts called Discovery Around the Globe. “Despite the shape of its extreme elliptical orbit, it appears to be in a stable position beyond Amrevet’s orbit.”
“On its closest approach to Atlantis it would generate major tidal events,” a male panelist argues. “And yet, nothing like that has been observed, historically speaking. There would be some evidence of gravitational interactions and relationships between this moon and Atlantis—and between the moon and the other three moons—”
“Not if this moon is in a different quantum dimension!” the woman responds sharply. “There would be no traces of interaction with our reality. And even if at some point it had been present in our quantum space, over time the original physical evidence of its presence—such as patterns of erosion due to tidal fluctuations and patterns of ocean stream flow here on our surface—all of it would dissipate and settle into a three-moons-only balanced scenario. . . .”
“Such lack of evidence would indicate that the moon has been isolated for a long time now—but not necessarily always. More interesting is to ask how and why? Was it done by the original Gebi colonists who landed here 9,771 years ago? What were their intentions in hiding it? And why leave references to a ‘ghost’ in our calendar, our weekdays, our daily lives? Maybe the whole thing was done even earlier, by someone else?”
“Scientists need to verify such a claim—9,771 years might not be enough to dissipate all earlier traces of a fourth moon,” another woman panelist says. “It’s time to reexamine the geological record.”
“The bigger question is how and why is it suddenly visible to us now?” an enthusiastic young man asks. “And what can we do to bring the Ghost Moon out of its present quantum state and into our own space-time?”
“That might prove disastrous! Imagine all the tidal and gravitational forces suddenly taking effect in our physical reality. It could cause physical chaos, even endanger the orbits of the other three moons, placing the entire satellite system of our planet in a precarious state of imbalance—” yet another panelist speaks up.
“I still want to know the catalyst for this sudden appearance. Or reappearance.”
“Indeed, what happened? What caused it to become visible right now, even though it’s not tangible?” the host says. “That’s the topic of the day. And what a day it has been! The Grail Games are over, and the Ghost Moon is here to tantalize us with all the implications—”
Gracie, Blayne, Gordie, and I sit watching the TV feeds in the large, panoramic-view living room, while Aeson and Keruvat continue working with the da
ta at the desk next to Anu and Gennio.
Some of the others have left for the night. Now that I’ve survived the Games, my intensive support team and entourage has “disbanded,” in the sense that they have their own lives and work to catch up on. This is the first full work week after the Games, and many of the Earth refugees have either already started their new jobs a month ago, or are about to do so this week.
I know that the Cadets—Gracie, Chiyoko, Laronda, and Blayne—have had to report to Fleet Headquarters for local assignments, and now their specially given “time off” is up. The Earthies are the equivalent of second-year Cadets, but unlike their Atlantean native counterparts who go through four years in Fleet Cadet School, the Earthies have no such luxury and are in an accelerated program of part-time courses and real work, simultaneously. As a result, Blayne has LM Forms classes to teach tomorrow. Both Gracie and Laronda have flight duty, which might even require for them to assist one of those pilot team missions to investigate the moon up close. And Chiyoko has an assignment at the Headquarters technical division.
The civilians among my friends also have work, first thing tomorrow morning—including my brother Gordie, Hasmik, and Dawn.
Moon or no moon, secret alien threat or not, life goes on.
As for the astra daimon, they are on assignment already, here with Aeson, dealing with the current crisis.
And me? Seems like I’m the only one who’s currently in a strange, uncomfortable-to-me, undefined “limbo” of activity. As the Imperial Bride, and future Imperial Consort, I don’t have to worry about a work assignment or any other daily life concerns. Technically, I’m “done” with my personal troubles. The Imperator has bigger problems to worry about, and his focus is off me except as far as I can assist with the ark-ship Logos voice commands. Really, my greatest concern is the upcoming Wedding, and the arrival of my Dad and George.
Earth and the impending asteroid apocalypse? Deadly, all-powerful aliens about to invade both planets?
Technically, again, not my problem.
Not your problem, Gwen.
Yeah, I should keep telling myself that. Maybe in a hundred years, I just might believe it.
I shudder inwardly and try to focus on the present moment—this pause before a coming storm—before my wayward imagination runs away with me into a new flavor of nightmare. Gracie notices that flicker of darkness in my expression and reaches out to cuddle against me.
I hold my sister, take deep breaths, and stare at the TV screen. To calm myself even more I think of Lolu’s mother getting her desperately needed medical care right this moment. Strangely, I don’t try to reach out and get an update on her actual current condition; it’s almost as if, if I don’t know, she—like Schrödinger’s cat—will remain in the blissful state of quantum uncertainty. So, I postpone the act of knowing until tomorrow.
I think of Dad and George, flying toward us even now. Later tonight, I’ll ask Aeson to call them, to make sure they’re okay.
And suddenly I allow myself to relax and think of the Wedding, and the real, tangible joy that awaits us—my life with Aeson. . . .
Whatever else might be, Aeson and I will be united.
As if to reinforce my thought, in that moment Aeson looks up from his work and glances in my direction. He gives me his amazing secret smile. Which melts me.
Even later this evening, when everyone else has gone, and the niktos meal is over, it is only the two of us. Aeson and I huddle together in wordless exhaustion, lying back against the comfy sofa cushions, silent for once, after all the impossible drama of the day.
“Think of nothing,” I whisper, stirring eventually, my face against his chest. “Ignore that thing on your wrist. No messages, no calls, no data analysis. If New Deshret or your Father calls, tell them to take a hike.”
Aeson chuckles, running his fingers through my hair and sending unexpected thrills down my spine. “Take a hike? Interesting expression.”
“You don’t know that one?” I look up and laugh gently, then teasingly pull his own pale golden locks, wrapping them around my finger, continuing to tug them fondly. I love Aeson’s hair so much. . . .
“Ouch,” he says with a smile.
“I’m such a sadist,” I reply. “I’ll try not to torture you to death and pull out all your gorgeous, golden Kassiopei hair. Well, maybe just a little?” And I take another lock and twist it around my finger.
Aeson sighs.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Aeson!” I stop at once, with a burst of worry on his behalf. “That didn’t really hurt, did it?”
He looks into my eyes with his steady beautiful gaze and grows serious. “You could never hurt me, in anything you do. It’s an impossibility. Please continue to weed out my hair. I could use a plucking—like one of your poor Earth chickens.”
I realize he’s making fun of me. And as I make a squeak of protest—yes, very chicken-like of me—he leans in to cover my mouth with his, soft, then overwhelming.
When he releases me, I am breathless, absolutely helpless with my need for him. “Ah, I just died . . .” I whisper. “What you’re doing to me, now I know what it’s like to expire—like this.”
But in that moment, he blinks. Sensuality flees, and a difference, a shadow, comes to his expression. Suddenly he is vulnerable and somehow lost, as if gathering himself for something difficult.
“It’s time I told you,” he says. “What it was like, to die.”
And Aeson tells me, at long last, the story of how he died at Ae-Leiterra.
Chapter 21
“It’s such a dark memory, in so many ways, Gwen,” Aeson tells me. “I kept putting it off, telling you about this incident. But enough. It happened so long ago, and I will speak of it now, because you must know. I promised you, no more secrets, ever.”
“Okay,” I whisper. “But only if you want—if you can. I don’t want you to suffer remembering horrible things from the past. Not again—”
“It’s all right.” He angles his neck slightly, looking at me as we half-repose, then inhales deeply and turns his head to face straight ahead. “It was seven years ago, I think—yes, late in the year 9764, and I had just turned thirteen. Back then, I was a young, stupid, second-year Pilot in the Imperial Fleet, basic Third Rank. There was no Star Pilot Corps for me yet, no astra daimon membership. However, there was a very important mission. My first mission assisting Imperial Command. And not only that, it was to be the first time that I would serve my Father the Imperator directly.”
I watch him with rapt attention.
Aeson sighs. “You know about Ae-Leiterra. An immense, rapidly rotating black hole at the center of our Coral Reef Galaxy.”
I frown and nod.
“Every few years—anywhere from three to five—something bad happens at Ae-Leiterra. Specifically, at its innermost stable circular orbit, or ISCO—the last ring of stability before the black hole’s gravitational pull becomes insurmountable, light cannot escape, and strange corrupting effects on matter occur. In other words, it’s the area just before the reality horizon, similar to your Earth notion of ‘event horizon.’ A critical, dangerous place, poised on the brink of no return. . . .”
“What—what happens?”
He looks at me. “Things come out of the black hole. And our mission is to contain them.”
“Wait—how can things come out?” I blurt. My stress-frown deepens. “I thought nothing can escape the gravitational pull of a black hole!”
Aeson continues looking at me strangely. “Yes and no.”
“Okay, now I’m a little confused. . . .” Even as I speak, my heartbeat speeds up with a mixture of emotions, generalized worry, fear. But mostly it’s because I see his own expression growing remote, filling with layers of deep sorrow as he watches me. Oh, he seems so serene and controlled.
Seeing him like that, I’m suddenly lost also, spiraling downward, not knowing what to do for him except ask stupid questions.
Just then he sighs, gathering himself. “Im amrevu�
�I need to explain some things about black holes to you, and forgive me if it gets technical. Earth science is not quite there yet, and these concepts might seem alien, but I will try to use more familiar Earth terms—”
“Oh no, it’s okay, please tell me!” I hurry to say, moving closer to him. I focus all my attention and listen.
“All right.” He nods. “Basically, the ISCO is the inner edge of the larger ring-like system of everything that’s circling the black hole. Collectively, we call that system the Rim of the Grail. . . .”
As he notices my suddenly curious expression, he adds, “Yes, Gwen, a black hole, any black hole, is a trans-dimensional grail. To be precise, two inverted grails connected via a wormhole ‘neck’—where the bottom ‘stand’ is the mirror image of the top ‘chalice,’ so that you can ‘flip it over’ across dimensions in space-time, and the stand becomes the cup portion and vice versa. But you can only see one grail at a time—the rest of it is always elsewhere.”
I watch him intently, trying to understand.
“This shape that we think we see is an optical illusion, caused by our perception of inwardly collapsing light. As you get closer, the pull of gravity becomes so strong that not even light can escape outward to reach our eyes. So it looks like a black void—a gaping, cup-shaped maw. That’s the black hole ‘shadow,’ framed by light curving around and just behind it, off-centered and distorted by gravity. Whatever’s on the inside is invisible from the outside. There is no cup, but the same weird illusion ‘holo-projects’ at you from any direction—like an Earth-style satellite dish antenna pointed at you. It really looks impossible, up-close. . . .”
Survive Page 23
