“So, three moons, all with space stations, how truly remarkable,” Dad says with a soft smile. “I still cannot get used to any of these wonders.” And then he blinks and moves his eyebrows in thought. “Does this mean that—all of you will be going there, to these moons? Even Gwen and Gordie must go too?”
“Yes.” Aeson looks at my Dad with gentle acknowledgement. “But it is not at all dangerous. It is what I’m here to explain.” And he glances at me.
“I’m ready,” I say, with a little surge of nerves and excitement in my gut, and notice how Oalla nods at me with a smile.
“Gwen, you will be going to Mar-Yan. Don’t worry, you will not be alone. Oalla will be with you as your Flight Partner, with two additional crew. You will take a khepri 4-crew fighter, for safety purposes—these days I don’t want you to be in space on a civilian ship, especially without me.”
“Oh, wow, Gwenie! You get to be on a khepri! So cool!” Gracie exclaims, looking at me with envy.
“But you said it wasn’t dangerous?” Dad asks.
Aeson pauses, choosing his words carefully. “Going to the moons is not dangerous in itself, but our situation is too precarious not to take all precautions. I will not risk my Wife’s safety under any circumstances. Indeed, I would be alongside her on this trip, except that I myself must be on a different vertex point during the alignment.”
“I understand.” I place my hand on Aeson’s upper arm and squeeze gently.
“I will be on Amrevet,” Aeson continues. “Meanwhile, Gordon will be on Pegasus, together with Erita and two crew, also taking a khepri fighter. Where is your brother anyway?”
“Gordie is still in your Father’s office with the First Priest Shirahtet,” I say. “He should be back soon, I guess.”
“I was hoping he would be here, so that Erita can discuss the mission logistics with him.”
“I’ll wait,” Erita says, even as I point her to the food station.
“All right.” Aeson stands up also and goes to pour himself a glass of qvaali.
When he returns, I ask: “So what of the other vertex points of the alignment?”
“My Imperial Father will be here on Atlantis. He will personally handle the ark-ship resonance from the Stadion.”
I nod.
“Finally, the two local battle barges have been told to approach and assume Atlantis orbit. War-5 and War-6 will take the remaining two perpendicular points of the alignment. Equipped with interstellar-class resonance chambers they will serve as ideal vertex point anchors for the alignment.”
“Wow . . .” Gracie says softly. “Battle barges.”
“War-5, under the command of Command Pilot Selmiris Teth, will have my sister Manala on board,” Aeson continues. “I believe that being on a large ship will be far less uncomfortable for her than having to put on a space suit—”
Oh my God . . . I will need to put on a space suit! I think with a sudden twinge of nerves.
“. . . and it will set her at ease that she is surrounded by so many people to assist her if needed. Manala must be emotionally composed enough to be able to perform the vocal keying sequence on cue.”
“So who’s going with her?” George asks, setting down his plate to look at Aeson.
Aeson looks at George and there is just the tiniest pause as he appears to consider my brother. “I’ve asked Consul Suval Denu to accompany her, and Xelio Vekahat will be there in primary tech guidance capacity. Manala finds comfort in the Consul’s company and she trusts Xelio, my astra daimon heart brother and our mutual childhood friend. It is important for Manala to be surrounded by those for whom she feels affection and cares about—in order for her to be sufficiently at ease to handle her task.”
George nods slowly.
“And that’s why,” Aeson continues, “I was hoping that you might be willing to come along also, and help Manala feel at ease.”
“What—me?” George makes a small incredulous sound.
“Yes, from what I can tell, Manala finds comfort in your presence too.”
There is a small pause.
George’s facial muscles twitch slightly as he glances down at his plate, then looks back at Aeson. “Yes, of course. I’ll go with her. Whatever you need, I’ll be there.”
“Good, I thought you would.” Aeson nods with a shadow smile of satisfaction.
“That’s great, George,” our Dad says, nodding also. “Manala will be very happy to have you along. A fine plan.”
“Now then, to continue,” Aeson resumes. “The sixth and final vertex point of the alignment will be occupied by War-6, with Command Pilot Uru Onophris. He will be carrying the First Speaker Anen Qur of Ubasti, as the sixth Logos voice—”
Erita clanks her eating utensil and turns around because Gordie has entered the room.
“Gordie! There you are,” I say. “How was it?”
“Yeah, pretty crazy,” Gee Three replies, heading straight for the food station where he begins to load his plate. Typical Gordie response to stress.
“So, what happened?” I persist.
“We practiced a whole bunch of voice commands.” Gordie dumps a huge dollop of mashed djebabat on his plate, and then pours thick, chunky gravy on top. Mashed djebabat is Atlantean comfort food, similar to mashed potatoes, and it’s become one of Gordie’s favorites to gorge on.
“And?”
“And then they told me to come back for more tomorrow. I said I have work tomorrow, and they said I will have an Imperial summons as my formal excuse. Anyway. Now I have to memorize the main, long voice keying sequence thing for the alignment.”
“That’s not all, Gordon Lark,” Erita says, beckoning him with one finger. “You and I have to talk about our mission details. Bring your food here and we’ll get started.”
Gordie stares in her direction. “Oh yeah? Ok, sec.” And he returns to shoveling the contents of various serving dishes onto his gargantuan plate.
While Gordie is brought up to speed by Erita and Aeson, Oalla explains to me our own mission details.
“In short, all you need to do is sit still and be a good passenger until we get to the surface,” Oalla says. “Then we’ll put on the headgear portions of our space suits and walk a very short distance outside in the practically non-existent atmosphere and light gravity of Mar-Yan and enter the resonance chamber. On cue, you will sing and dance and do your Logos thing. Then we return to the ship and go home.”
“That does sound simple,” I admit.
“Very.” Oalla takes a bite of a small, grape-like fruit called the hurucaz. “So tomorrow we will simply practice space suit protocol and spacewalk protocol. I know you had a brief overview of it during our journey from Earth, but there was never any occasion to use it for any Earth Cadets and civilians.”
“Instructor Okoi told us it was for emergencies only. That Atlanteans don’t really use space suits for normal spaceflight.”
“Well, we do use them, actually,” Oalla pops another hurucaz in her mouth and chews daintily with amusement. “But only under military circumstances, with one exception. Space suits are primarily intended for battle, for backup protection when inside fighter ships. The exception is for exploratory research missions to unexplored, new cosmic locations. Okoi was teaching you somewhat censored basics, using civilian shuttles, hoping that none of you would ever have to deal with anything more dangerous than speeding through a QS race.”
“I see.”
“Don’t worry, it’s all relatively easy—just a minor hassle, really.”
And so, we spend the rest of the day and evening preparing, practicing, wondering, and worrying about what’s to come on Blueday. No new crises arise and Aeson and I actually manage to make it to bed before Midnight Ghost Time, and use those gentle hours to enjoy each other before falling asleep.
The next day, Red Amrevet 14, is all practice and anticipation. Oalla and I practice with the space suit, Gordie meets with Shirahtet for more voice lessons, Aeson handles endless logistics, including c
oordinating with Ubasti to increase and coordinate security measures and deal with the sudden arrival and overnight accommodations at the Palace for First Speaker Anen Qur, who happens to be that nation’s primary head of state. Manala comes and goes, full of nervous curiosity, while Dad and George do the best they can to keep us all focused and together. The Imperator keeps calling Aeson to make sure that all the details are falling in place.
At some point I get a message from Laronda wanting to know why she hasn’t heard from me since the Wedding, and if everything was okay. I can’t really share the present crisis with her—she knows some things about the ark-ship but not about the latest with the moon alignment—so I tell Laronda all is well with Aeson and me, naturally, and we’re still dealing with everything.
If all goes according to plan on alignment day, she and everyone else on Atlantis will find out everything, soon enough.
I wake up near dawn, in the morning of Blueday, Red Amrevet 15, with a weird case of sudden nerves. For once, Aeson is still deeply asleep, lying in the great bed next to me, and I find it comforting to feel his great warmth surrounding me, and one of his arms wrapped around my middle.
I snuggle against him carefully, trying not to wake him up, listening to his slightly loud breathing, as I lie there and think.
I’ll be wearing a space suit this afternoon, and walking in an airless landscape on an alien moon. . . .
Holy crap.
Eventually both of us stir and are fully awake.
“Nefero eos . . . Gwen . . . ready for today?”
“I guess,” I whisper, running my fingertips over his jawline.
My husband smiles at me and then yawns a very wide, very tasty yawn—which makes me yawn too and giggle, and calms my nerves. It definitely helps that we start to tickle each other for a few minutes, and then one thing leads to another. . . .
Eventually we get up, get ready, eat, and then the stressful wait begins.
The moon alignment is expected to be at its height during the first hour and eleven minutes of Khe. Which means that all of us have to be in position at our designated locations around the Ghost Moon—at the six vertices—at least two hours in advance, to account for little things going wrong.
“If we miss this alignment window, it will be a month before the next one, and we don’t have days to spare,” the Imperator tells Aeson harshly over a call, even as our partner crews start arriving.
“I am well aware, my Father, and all care will be taken that things go accordingly,” Aeson says to him, just before it’s time to depart. “And now, we need to begin.”
“Very well,” the Imperator replies. “We will speak again once every piece and player are in place. Be ready to receive my next communication on site.”
Chapter 76
Oalla, Erita, and other members of our flight crews arrive punctually at ninth hour of Ra, to pick us up and take us to our respective destinations.
Aeson, Gordie, and I are the only three out of six Logos voice wielders who must put on the space gear, so Manala leaves first, accompanied by George, Xelio, and Consul Denu who will be with her, together with her personal security guards, as she boards a military transport waiting for her in the Imperial Palace airfield. Manala will then be taken up directly to War-5, one of the two battle barges presently in orbit over Atlantis.
Elsewhere in the Palace, we are told, First Speaker Anen Qur concludes his last-minute consultation audience with the Imperator and heads for his own transport, accompanied by his personal Ubasti security, and additional Imperial guards. He will arrive on board War-6 at approximately the same time as we arrive at our destinations.
Meanwhile, the Imperator, surrounded by the Imperial Guards, departs for the downtown complex on his way to the Atlantis Grail Stadium. He will take his position at the Grail itself, in physical contact with its the metallic surface—which is only one half of the ancient resonance chamber but will still serve its purposes—even as it continues to hum, broadcasting its eternal alien beacon transmission to the stars. . . .
Those of us who remain, including our Flight Partners and our crews, begin the process of putting on our space suit layers while still in the Prince’s Quarters.
The suits are bulky, but far less so than their contemporary Earth astronaut counterparts. They remind me somewhat of the viatoios armor that I had to wear underneath my uniform in the Games of the Atlantis Grail. Except, unlike that paper-thin, lightweight armor that I could barely feel, these have additional thick, flexible layers for pressurized, airtight protection.
The Atlantean space suit outer layer is formed in snakelike rings composed in turn of small interlocking pieces like scales. They are flexible and conform against my limbs and torso, yet allow relatively free movement. Underneath I wear the same paper-thin viatoios armor layer as in the Games, but seamless, like a second skin jumpsuit that includes foot covering.
The suit boots are fused to the main portion of the outer suit, while the gloves are detachable. The helmet is also removable, with a three-quarter plexiglass-equivalent visor portion for a panoramic view, and a strong reinforced metal protection cap for the back of the skull and the top. There are several flashlight beam elements that can be enabled, if needed, to illuminate the way.
The suit comes with a compact life-support pack that can be worn like a purse at the shoulders or waist, or attached from behind like a backpack. Its micro-hoses plug into the shoulders, waist, and back of the neck—in multiple places, based on preference. Finally, there is a built-in, independent wrist comm system on both arms for redundancy, and an emergency beacon transmitter at the belt.
To wear the suit, there can be no concern for privacy. Aeson, Gordie, Erita, Oalla, myself, and the four crew members, strip down to our underwear and put on the viatoios under-layer, then step into the boots, pull up the pant legs and torso. Next, arms go through sleeves, similar to a jumpsuit, and then we zip-seal the two sides upward, ending at the collar.
We end by holding our helmets, gloves, and life-support packs in our hands. Anyone with long hair, including im amrevu and me, and half the crew, has to wear it in a segmented tail or braid, to keep it out of the way for safety, later to be tucked in a special compartment inside the helmet. Yes, no joke—Atlantean space helmets have a dedicated hair compartment. . . .
“All right. Is everyone ready?” Aeson asks, standing in his suit—and looking so very alien and imposing, for a split second—as he watches me finish applying the sealing closure at my throat.
“Almost,” I say, fiddling with the closure. “Okay, done.”
I must look weird and alien too. . . .
Apparently, I’m the last to finish dressing, because they all stand watching me—even Gordie, who appears so impressive and grown up in his space gear. Aeson examines me closely for any seal faults, while Oalla observes our interactions in amusement.
“She’s fine, Kass,” Oalla says. “We practiced multiple times yesterday and she has learned it well.”
Aeson gives Oalla a swift glance then returns to his examination of me and my equipment.
“Aeson!” I say with a self-conscious laugh. “Seriously, I’ve got it.”
“Make sure she does it right before stepping outside on the moon,” he tells Oalla.
“Of course, Kass. Relax. Now, let’s go.”
And we leave the Quarters, walking carefully in our gear that creaks slightly with each step. A few of us at a time, we pile into the small, private elevator just outside the workroom—where the several daimon on SPC duty, plus Anu and Gennio, give us brief stares—then emerge outside.
We take a discreet, back way to the Palace airfield, minimizing our exposure to the public. If anyone sees us in these space suits it would be inevitable that the news will hit the media feeds immediately. Right now, this must be avoided, so we take the extra care not to be noticed, in order to hold back the media frenzy at least long enough until we’re in orbit.
Three ships await us at the rear hangar, parked
and hovering in place, gleaming metallic slate-grey. Two of them are the larger, saucer-shaped khepri, while the third is a small elongated solo fighter ship, lean and elegant—a mafdet.
We pause, separating into our two crews, while Aeson’s Imperial guards stand back so that he remains alone.
“Where is your Flight crew, Aeson?” I ask with concern, seeing he is unaccompanied.
“Waiting for me on Amrevet,” he replies casually.
“Wait, what?” My mouth parts. “Are you going to fly there alone?”
“I am,” my husband replies in amusement. “I’m a solo Pilot. It is what I do.”
“Oh . . . right.” I shut up, but I remain worried for him.
In that moment Aeson steps forward. Hel’s radiance shining in his face, he leans down and kisses me softly, with the extra space between our suits making it a little awkward. “Be safe, im amrevu.”
“You, too,” I whisper, feeling a sudden pang of guilty sensuality even at his brief contact with my lips.
And then I watch my husband open the hatch of his mafdet and climb into the cockpit with easy, practiced movements. Moments later, the solo fighter taxies out of the hangar and then—aptly nicknamed the Needle of Justice—it accelerates a short distance of about a hundred meters in a matter of heartbeats and shoots like a needle straight up into the sky.
“Don’t worry about him, my Imperial Lady,” Erita says with a simultaneous tap on my and Gordie’s shoulders. “Let’s head out, Gordon. Oalla, saret-i-xerera!”
“Saret-i-xerera!” Oalla replies, then motions to me and our two additional crew.
With my peripheral vision I see Gordie and Erita and their two crew members begin walking to their khepri, even as we walk to ours. With a sudden impulse of worry I want to call out Gordie’s name and urge my little brother to be careful, but it’s too late now.
Survive Page 82
