Callista at once opened her eyes and cried out. Ruben turned and she feebly took hold of his gold-ironed collar. ‘There’s something else!’ she cried. ‘It’s Anna—’
‘Shhh,’ he said, attempting to stop her from going into a panic. ‘Quiet now! You know what will happen if you strain yourself. There’s time for you to tell me. I will come and see you tomorrow. But for now . . . rest.’
She struggled a little as he stroked her warm brow, but eventually drifted off into another uneasy sleep. He knew how hard it was for her; she’d told him the struggles of reliving her nightmares over and over, afraid to sleep for fear of dreaming. A hard life indeed.
Though he was interested to hear what she could need to say about Anna so badly, he knew it would have to wait; his niece was safe. There was nowhere safer than here. He tiptoed away and left her alone in peace. Her prediction, however, troubled him greatly, mirrored what he saw out there. What he felt inside.
He was alone.
What in the galaxy could this darkness be?
CHAPTER TEN
GUARDS-IN-TRAINING met at Titan’s Central Institute every day. The past year had been the most intense Anna Berenguer had known, and if it had not been for Callista’s help, or the thought of her ultimate goal, she doubted she would have progressed this far. Not ten minutes after leaving the training simulation, Anna had made it to her lesson at the Institute, and though sporting soggy hair and damp clothes, she slipped into the lesson without being noticed.
Or so she had hoped.
‘Anna Berenguer!’ bellowed Christi Guerrero, Vizor of Interstellar Relations, as she sat. Students sniggered throughout the dark, semi-circular room. ‘Niece of our famous general or not, I do not want to see you late again,’ Guerrero said. ‘A good excuse this time, I’ll bet.’
She considered her words quickly. If she thought of something funny to say, they would laugh and he would be forced to yell at them.
‘I was . . . washing my hair.’
As anticipated, the room filled with laughter and Guerrero’s face burned blood red.
‘Enough!’
The room went silent. He aimed a look of fury at Anna; though she was sure a trace of amusement at her answer was contained in his expression.
‘As I was saying,’ he went on, ‘before we were interrupted by our stellar student here, this week we shall return to Crilshar. As we’ve discovered, discussed, and debated for the past however long, there are many, many ways of identifying the inhabitants of each world in the Four Systems. None more so than residents of the planet Crilshar, other than the obvious dress and accent. Can anybody give me one? No? Very well.’
Before anyone had attempted to answer he pressed a switch on his belt and projected from the back of the room the image of a Crilshan warrior. Clad in black and equipped to the teeth with blades and arms, it did not look like something you would want to mess with.
The Vizor cleared his throat. ‘Take note of the incredibly pale skin, due to the absence of a real sun. Pay attention to the eyes as well: where our scleras are white, theirs are black; where our irises are coloured individually, theirs’ are always red. This is due to living underground and depending on a rather exotic Surrogate Sun.’
‘Vizor,’ called a student from the front row. ‘Vizor, Titan has a Surrogate Sun too, but we don’t suffer the same mutations.’
‘That’s true, Angela. But the Crilshan biology is unique, complex, and fascinating too. Can anybody answer Angela’s point?’ Some hands were raised, but only one student held Guerrero’s interest. ‘Miss Berenguer. A line of reasoning on our dark cousins?’
Anna looked up from her seat. She’d been listening, but not watching. ‘Err . . . they’re in-breeders,’ she said with a roguish grin.
The room went deathly silent for some moments before erupting in laughter once again. She received a pat on the back from a couple sat nearby, a few whistles, and an almighty applause.
‘Yes, thank you!’ Guerrero said. ‘Thank you, very much, Miss Berenguer. But,’ he said to the group, ‘Anna is correct!’
A few puzzled looks ensued.
‘I would have phrased it differently, but yes. Would you care to elaborate?’
Anna wrecked her brain, recalling what her mentor, the irritating Iástron, had told her of people on Crilshar. ‘Purity!’ she said, remembering the session. ‘They’ve believed for centuries that their power and strength is down to the purity of their blood.’
‘Very good!’
‘But,’ she continued, ‘the obvious health issues involved with objective breeding meant they had to turn to Old Science for help. Genetic manipulation in particular. During the womb, in order to prevent any mutations. But—’
‘Yes!’ Guerrero interrupted. ‘Known on Crilshar as the Pure Gene, it is commonly acknowledged that this genetic manipulation seen alongside the effects of their Surrogate Sun is the reason for the strange mutations seen anyway at the centre of most families there these days.’
‘I heard there were other kinds of mutations as well as their eyes and skin,’ another student added.
‘Yes.’ The Vizor began to pace. ‘In addition to their enhanced vision in darkness, I’m also talking about superior physical strength, increased audio and other sensual capabilities, and sometimes—quite often the case—weakness, incapacity, and even death. The former, however, without doubt make a Crilshan one dangerous adversary.’
‘Not for a Titanese Guard!’ shouted one boy from the back of the room. Another round of cheering and applause followed. The Vizor said nothing.
When an active member of Titanese Forces reached a certain age they were generally deemed unfit for active service. When that time came they were given one of two choices: to remain in the Forces in a more static position, no longer able to leave Titan, or else to use their experience and knowledge to teach at the Titanese Institute as a Vizor—or veteran. Anna had heard Guerrero was quite the force-to-be-reckoned-with in his day.
When the class had settled they went on to discuss the oldest and most powerful Crilshan family. The Dishan. Anna absolutely hated hearing of their cruelty in battle. The things they did . . .
It made her think of her uncle: always out there, fighting the Crilshan threat. It also set her to wondering about her father, Dathlan Berenguer: the fate he likely suffered when he went missing in battle with the Dishan, over ten years ago. She acted as though she had numbed to the pain of his loss, but in truth it was still difficult to speak of him. Her uncle Ruben, she knew, felt the same; he never spoke of his brother.
‘There are three,’ said the Vizor. ‘Three powers in control of the caverns of Crilshar. And all are members of the Dishan. A name, anyone?’
One girl’s hand shot up. ‘Avaj, sir!’
‘Excellent! And she would be?’
‘Sister to the High Lord Dishan,’ another student said.
Guerrero continued, ‘Yes, Avaj Dishan is the younger of the two, but in no way is that a hindrance. She is both resourceful and cunning.’
Everyone listened intently.
‘Another!’ he said. He picked a student with his hand raised at the back of the room. ‘Yes, Andres.’
‘Sir,’ said Andres, carefully. ‘Lord Dishan’s uncle, Wivartha.’
‘Yes indeed, and hold your ears because this is where it gets dark. Wise and powerful, Wivartha Dishan is the brother of High Lord Yux’s late father, Yu, and commander of the army of Crilshar. His unrivalled wisdom and intelligence make him a ruthless and strategic opponent, and a worthy High Council member. He’s an asset to High Lord Dishan and he knows it.
‘Now, though Crilshans are sly and furtive creatures, and we do not know much about their goings on save that which we know already, there is one of the Dark Race whom we haven’t seen, but know all about. We would all recognise the final of the three, but what do you know of him?’
Anna’s mentor had told her all about the High Lord of Crilshar—Yux Dishan. Currently in his early thirties,
he was the youngest ruler of the planet ever in its history. Callista said that, if anything, it made him all the more dangerous. She had told her of the dangers he’d faced growing up on Crilshar: the power plays, rebellions, and the constant attempts on his life. Thus, his own life’s mission had been to secure his dynasty, and with no children of his own so far there had been rumours that he was unable to have a child. The pain he suffered, Anna had learned, meant he now took pleasure in causing others pain, creating new-fangled ways of performing deliberately slow torment and torture on his prisoners.
‘Anybody?’
No one raised their hand. No one dared.
‘Anna,’ he said, ‘can you tell us anything about Yux Dishan?’
She said nothing, choosing not to mention the terrible things she knew of him. It brought back her father’s memory too much. Dathlan Berenguer had died because of him. She shook her head without making eye contact.
‘No?’ The Vizor frowned. ‘No one? Very well, I want to hear about him tomorrow from each and every one of you. Let that be your task tonight. Discover what you can of him.’ He glanced down at Anna once more. ‘That is all.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CONSTANTINE LESPER SURVEYED the planet Rotavar from orbit. His craft lingered at the edge of the blockade, awaiting recognition from the Crilshan fleet commander. Though the fate of the people of this desert colony was not his concern, and despite the fact he would be in and out in a day or two, he could not help but feel a certain amount of pity.
Tall, bald, and brash was, in all probability, how his crew would describe him. And more often than not, he was. But the task he had embarked upon to this small desert world was serious enough that he knew to keep his lips together and his mind on the brief. If he found what he had come for, the Córonat would reward him with everything he had ever wanted, and more.
Before long the Crilshan command ship’s signature riposte was received: an intimidating message of alarm. Lesper kept his cool and had his pilots respond with a coded cipher. It was accepted, and his ship, the Nyx, passed through the blockade and descended toward the planet surface.
The largest city and capital of Rotavar was known as Kondogopas. Due to the overwhelming number of Crilshan warriors that had arrived upon the colony, any resistance had been met with zero sympathy; and so the Nyx put down within a fully-subjugated Kondogopas, and Lesper was met by an armed guard. In spite of the high temperature, it was a noticeably frosty assembly.
‘Whatever is it you want, it will have to be quick,’ said a mid-ranking officer-gubar as Lesper disembarked his craft. ‘My men and I are short on time.’
Lesper, although pale, was obviously no Crilshan. He nodded, doing his best to appear compliant and dutiful; it was the only way to get by with these creatures. ‘I understand your irritation,’ he said. ‘And I know your superior officer sent you to meet me at the last moment. If you would take me to him, I’m certain you’ll be permitted to return to your other duties . . . hunting defiant colonists I suppose.’
‘You suppose right,’ he said, smiling toothily. ‘But I won’t take you to my general. His base of operations isn’t within my jurisdiction.’
‘Funny that,’ Lesper said, raising his arm and pulling up his sleeve to reveal his wrist, ‘because it’s in mine.’
The Crilshan contained his reaction. Barely. He breathed in and out three times, before turning. ‘This way.’
* * *
From the Crilshan base of operations, Lesper glanced up at the Prime Ministerial offices. Located on a hill in the centre of the city, the extensive structure that made up the government quarter could be seen from all sides.
‘My gubar tells me you have the mark,’ said the Crilshan general from the other side of the room. Lesper turned from the window. ‘But if that’s true then I must ask: what are you doing here?’
Lesper paced the length of the room before answering. ‘Our Córonat is unhappy that such obvious force has been used to subjugate the Rotavarian System,’ he said, to which the general stood from his seat, tensely. ‘A blockade can be overlooked, but the Alignment cannot ignore genocide.’
‘I simply followed orders from above,’ the general said, wiping sweat from his brow. ‘The Córonat says to invade, and I am given a strategy for assault. If you are questioning—’
‘Oh no, not questioning.’
‘Good, because you have neither the authority nor the skill to scrutinize an army which bears the flag of the Dishan!’
Lesper smiled. ‘I’ll be sure to pass that opinion on the next time I speak with our Córonat. Though I imagine . . .’
‘Imagine what?’
‘I imagine you’ll be found in greater favour were you to allow me some discretion in another matter.’
The general swore in his own tongue. ‘What do you want, Lesper?’
‘Access into the Prime Ministerial offices. Edgar Mokrikov’s office specifically.’ He needed access to the office to remove an item his Lord Córonat had asked for. The task was not to be revealed to anyone, and Lesper swore it would be done. His cunning always prevailed.
‘Impossible,’ the general said, however. ‘The entire quarter is off limits.’
Lesper scoffed. ‘At your orders.’
‘And it will remain so. I am following instructions from above.’
‘Orders from above,’ he said, beginning to lose his cool. ‘Always orders from above! You’re a general, for hell’s sake. You’re not the only one following orders.’
The general walked toward the entrance, but turned at the last moment. Sweat still plastered his colourless skin. ‘Commander Lesper, you are not a prisoner here, and you may leave when you wish. But you will remain in the outer sectors until you do. Understand?’
‘I understand,’ Lesper said, bunching his hands into fists behind his back.
‘Good.’ The Crilshan left him alone, and he turned to look back out at the hilltop offices.
Oh yes. Lesper understood. Time for plan B.
CHAPTER TWELVE
A KNOCK STRUCK the bedsit door. Callista peered out with a single eye. She knew it was Anna, but remained lay on her bed facing up at the ceiling. Anna knocked again, and then let herself in. Callista let out a fictitious rattle-of-a-snore, attempting not to laugh as she did. She knew Anna hated waking her; the old woman was, by her own admission, habitually cantankerous.
She watched Anna drift around various tables and stacks of books until she reached the far wall. Always that wall, she thought as she continued to watch the girl stare up at a gold-plated map of the Four Systems; four rings of ice, cold azure, one for each system: Sol, Proxima, Accentauria, and Accentaurib. And, as usual, Anna leaned in to read the inscription bowed over the chart.
Rathir if ar ubilata itrosfir atran stalar abranátik, bitiar lock nepa dv ebwa, tan su son consullit ar imus prezure israr aundata kosmos
‘Here lies the final rendering of the Four Stellar Systems of Humanity,’ she recited. ‘For as the tides neap and ebb, so do our lives—’
‘In the surging mass that is the cosmos surrounding,’ Callista finished.
Anna jumped. She fell back and cracked her hip on the sharp corner of a small cabinet, knocking a tall, purple candle over a stack of books. She hurriedly stood it back up, burning hot wax scalding her hands—
Anna’s pain increased tenfold and very quickly Callista couldn’t breathe. An image flashed into her mind: Anna’s face. Tears. Anger. She snapped herself out of the stupor.
‘Ouch!’ Anna muttered under her breath, and she wiped her hands on her dark uniform. ‘I’m so sorry Callista, I’ll—’ But the old woman had risen and bounded across the dorm. She rummaged through the desk for an empty sheet of paper and scribbled down the image she’d seen.
Anna. Again.
‘Callista?’ Anna said, following her over to the dismal corner she’d thrown herself into.
‘Quiet! Shush!’ Callista snapped. She had to concentrate before she lost the image.
> ‘I’ll just go then, shall I?’ Anna walked towards the door, but Callista reached for her wrist and turned her around. ‘Do you quite mind?’
‘Like I said, shush girl!’ She finished her drawing and threw the paper beneath a large encyclopaedia. ‘Been for another swim today? Not getting any better in your training, I see. Your hair’s always damp when I see you!’
‘Actually this time I . . . I chose to fall. How did you know I—’
‘You chose to fall? Why on Titan would you choose to fall?’
‘Never mind. What were you doing in that corner?’ She peered over her shoulder and Callista stood quickly, but sat down right away as the blood rushed to her head. ‘Sit, child,’ she said, ‘and I’ll show you.’
Anna did as she was told and balanced herself on an egg-shaped stool beside her. She rubbed her hands together, removing the last little crusts of candle wax.
‘Before I do,’ Callista said, ‘just one thing. When was the last time you saw your mother?’
‘Yesterday.’
‘Not today?’
‘I thought that was implied in the aforementioned answer.’
Callista clouted her across the back of the head. ‘Less cheek,’ she said. The reason she asked, other than owing to upfront curiosity, was due to the fact that Anna’s mother had for some years now been deceased. ‘Has she done anything different in her recent visits?’
‘You make it sound as though she’s been somewhere,’ Anna said.
‘Please answer.’
‘She’s with me constantly. I just can’t see her most of the time. And no, in my dreams she just watches me.’
Callista wrote what she said into her note book, which she proceeded to place inside her desk. It tore her heart to admit it, but Anna was not the little girl she had once been. The little girl that would forever be asking questions of the cosmos, never content until Callista had told her everything she knew; always happy but never pleased until her never-ending questions were answered to the fullest. She had at all times been honest with her concerning the old woman’s Iástronian heritage. Anna’s marvel had gone silent, but she knew deep in her heart that it hadn’t abated.
Callista reached into her drawer and fished out another book. She handed it to her student. Anna opened the leather binding and smelt the natural scent of the aging pages, and then closed her eyes, breathed out slowly, and flicked tenderly through. Callista watched her carefully. Inside were drawings of Titan, the Twelve Cities’ beauty captured incredibly by Callista’s hand—if she said so herself. Turning the pages she found drawings of other cities from out on other worlds: New Assyria; Enustine; the moons of Bravoral. Then came pictures of people: men, women, and children; space vessels, nebulae, and images of distant moons, planets, and stars.
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