Iástron

by James C. Dunn

  ‘They’re beautiful, Callista. You drew them?’

  ‘I did. I’ve many more like it, but this is the most recent. It’s my dream journal. I write in it whenever I wake. And often in the middle of the day, when something comes back or I find myself daydreaming.’

  ‘You dreamt all these things?’

  ‘Vividly! It’s one of my echoed talents I have yet to share with you. There was a time when I could recall every dream I ever had, but nowadays my memory fails me. I keep these books to peruse, in what has become a vain attempt to understand.’

  ‘To understand what?’

  Callista leaned across and flicked the page forwards twice. ‘All of the images you see represent a particular dream or vision I have had. Not all of my dreams I can remember the same. Some come to me as merely feelings, thoughts, or colours, and aren’t always as clear as I’d like them to be.’ She sat back and heaved a long-winded sigh. ‘You’re not finished. Go on, towards the end!’

  Anna persisted. As she reached the closing pages they were no longer filled with beautiful sketches or portraits, but instead the pages were black, covered in scratching and panicked scrawling of night-black charcoal covering page after page. Callista could tell by the look on the girl’s face that she didn’t want to go on. Anna caught her eye.

  ‘Carry on,’ Callista said.

  Anna pressed through, though what she saw next surprised and shocked her so much she could hardly contain her alarm. Just as Callista had anticipated. Upon the final sheets the same image had been repeated, over and over. An image Callista had seen many times now. The dark orb of black fire.

  Anna’s jaw slumped, eyes shot up to meet the old Iástron’s. ‘What does it mean?’ she asked, her voice unnaturally high-pitched.

  ‘I was hoping you could tell me, Anna.’ Her eyes dimmed, squinting, gazing through the girl, scrutinizing each small movement in her reaction to the drawing. Anna was hiding something, but Callista sensed she would receive no confession from her young student today.

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t help you, Callista. What is it?’

  The Iástron frowned. ‘Darkness, my child. Utter darkness. As to what it means I can only wonder at this moment, but I was hoping you could help me with it. It’s a recurring dream and thought I’ve been having lately. The image of the black orb presented itself after the vague dreams of complete darkness—hence the black pages. I thought at first I’d predicted my own death, but alas, it seems not!’

  ‘I’m sorry I can’t be of more help,’ Anna said, standing. ‘But I really have to go. A lot of work, you see.’

  ‘Very well!’ Callista waved her off, breathing heavily as she did when recounting her dreams. ‘Be gone with you! I’ll ponder the question alone.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, leaving swiftly, but not before placing the book down, still open, on the page presenting the dark orb.

  * * *

  Callista remained seated. Anna knew something about the sphere but would not say. Time is all it would take. Of that she had no doubt. She sat for some time, listening and thinking. Eventually the old woman took herself across to one of the many cabinets and rummaged through, revealing another book.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, almost tearfully, as she opened the book on a random page and sat up on her bed. ‘Oh, Peter . . .’ She looked down at a drawing she had sketched, which presented a much younger version of herself, standing beside an even younger boy. So, so long ago.

  ‘You have no idea,’ she said to Peter as her mind drifted back to their parting. ‘You have no idea how much I miss you.’ She recalled a song they would sing among the glistening caverns of Europa, and she sang it to herself, slowly and whispered:

  How far beneath the moon they weep,

  Away from life, from death they sleep,

  Until decree, they all break free,

  And all shall rise, black from the deep.

  Though fury fills and rage doth stream,

  The few that vow are those who dream,

  Of greater song and conquered wrong,

  To kneel among red pools that gleam.

  Standing still amid fervent flames,

  The wise man bows, red blaze he tames,

  His hands are pale, he knows naught frail,

  As wind coils round, his voice proclaims:

  How far beneath the moon we lie,

  Cut off from life, now ask us why;

  We’re strong as one, until they’re gone,

  With kindly light they’ll hear our cry.

  She stopped, unable to sing another word, her mind drifting back to that day. After their parting from Europa, she had set down upon another of Jupiter’s moons: the remote body Callisto. Used only by trade groups as a hasty go-between, she had managed, after some days alone, to stow aboard a registered vessel; and so she made her way to Titan from there. She left the name Lucasta behind, but chose her new name so as to remember the place she had parted from the most amazing man she would ever meet.

  That is at least what she had thought, until she’d met little Ruben Berenguer . . .

  Looking through the book she wiped the tears from her cheeks. ‘You could move mountains, worlds, entire races with your mind and your words. I’ve cut my hair. Exchanged my robes for rags. I’ve even changed my name. I’ve changed everything about the woman I used to be. And no matter what I do to dull the pain of being here without you, it does not change a thing. You’re out there, somewhere, and I’m here waiting. I’ve been waiting for fifty years.’ She closed the book with a snap and took a deep breath. ‘But I’ll wait fifty more, Peter Marx, if it means seeing you again.’

  * * *

  The day after Ruben Berenguer’s return to Titan came, and it was filled with rumour and anticipation. What would have appeared to be the entire Twelve Cities descended upon the stone piazza outside Central Tower. Word of the general’s announcement had spread fast. Everyone was eager to hear news of the Alignment and the struggle against Crilshar. The Titanese Council, which had long opted for a strategy of candour and transparency, seldom refused to consent; and when it was not deemed contrary to Titan’s safety, the truth was given to the people.

  ‘Careful. Watch it!’ Callista exclaimed to passers-by as she hobbled through the crowd. ‘For goodness sake, watch where you’re going! No respect! One-hundred and twenty-two years and nothing ever changes!’

  The old woman followed as thousands of men, women, and children moved through the central streets in one enormous multi-coloured crowd. She gave up trying to reach the stage and so stood to one side of the horde, not far from the front of the group. On the large stage, temporarily erected, stood Ruben, beside Maxim Pinzón, along with the majority of the Council and several other military leaders. At the end of the stage sat Anna and Gílana.

  Ruben stood up to the podium and a hush descended. ‘In the name of our mother, Titan,’ he said, ‘welcome! Before I begin, a few words of our upcoming celebrations. For over a thousand years these cities have stood as a beacon of progress and of light. Our world has forever been a symbol of strength and of mercy. Eight-hundred years ago we were recognised for this power. In a matter of weeks we commemorate our triumph.’

  It was then, as Callista smiled proudly at Ruben’s success and bravery, that she sensed something which sent her lightheaded. Unsteady on her feet, she looked up and perceived a darkness of an indecipherable kind fall over the crowd, and it seemed to her as though night had come too soon. She clutched her small staff and leaned over, fighting to breathe. She had not been touched by a sensation so intense for a very long time.

  Her eyes skimmed the mass of people stretched out before her, which hadn’t noticed the darkness. Various shades swarmed about, and then she saw something, and at once she knew what it was. Her eyes met with those of the Crilshan man who watched her through the crowd. He blinked slowly, dark and red eyes visible, and then turned to walk away.

  Callista rushed forward on her cane, hobbling through the crowd which d
id nothing to help the old woman pass. Very quickly she lost sight of the mysterious Crilshan, but she could still see his unwelcome presence like an intense, black cloud. She followed as swiftly as she could.

  Ruben’s voice could be heard in the air: ‘. . . and trade through Proxima Centauri has been halted until it becomes safe enough for unarmed liners to pass through . . .’

  Callista reached a clearing at the border of the group, and there she saw him. The black and red-eyed man.

  ‘. . . a new push to gain access into the First System . . .’

  He smirked, and nodded, worryingly calm.

  ‘. . . leaving only one route to respond . . .’

  There and then, the piazza thundered and shook beneath the crowd. People panicked and screamed. She turned back and watched Ruben look up from his podium; she followed his line of sight and saw to her horror a dark pillar of smoke rise into the air across the cities. And she knew at that moment something was terribly wrong.

  ‘The first city!’ somebody cried. ‘Something’s happened in the dock!’

  Nobody knew what was happening, little less what to do. The military captains were charging down the road to their vehicles; others were raising their comms, attempting to discover the source of the smoke. Callista spun once again, but the darkness had passed. The Crilshan had gone.

  ‘Everybody remain calm!’ Ruben called to the mass of panicked faces. ‘This is Titan. We are stronger than to panic!’

  But both Ruben and Callista knew what it meant.

  ‘I was right,’ the old Iástron muttered. ‘They’re already here.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  UPON THE DESERTED fringes of Kondogopas, capital city of Rotavar, a crimson ship lay in wait. Then it disappeared. Thirty seconds later it reappeared. Three seconds and it was gone. The oscillation occurred, not because the controller wished to submit some furtive code, or even because they failed to control the primitive cloaking device, but because pilot Adra Dimal, stood fuming within the cockpit, was in meltdown.

  Dimal swore loudly, ignoring the two crewmembers stood watching, and punched the dashboard with all her anger. The Crimson Flux disappeared again. Dimal turned.

  ‘Do you want to take command of the Flux?’ she shrieked.

  ‘No,’ Raj Timbur, the young man stood before her, mumbled.

  ‘And you?’

  ‘No,’ whimpered Noah Nuveen—the second, older man.

  ‘Well then. We have a problem here. Because I’m quite ready to get up from this pilots chair, march on down to my quarters, and shitting well give up!’

  Raj Timbur bowed his head, dead-beat. Dark-skinned, young, and tall he appeared in direct contrast to the man stood cowering beside him. ‘No, no,’ Raj said. ‘Stay in the chair, Adra.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Noah, squat and tubby. ‘The chair . . . stay . . . please.’

  Dimal sat back down. ‘Then tell me, boys, why you won’t agree to any decision I make as acting cap’n of the Flux.’

  Raj shrugged his scrawny shoulders. ‘Because Cap’n Justus is the Cap’n.’

  ‘Well done,’ Noah taunted.

  ‘And Justus gave Kaara that duty were anything to happen—’

  ‘Well Kaara’s not here anymore, is she?!’ Dimal said, immediately regretting such a tactless comeback—true as it was. ‘Look, guys. Justus hasn’t left his quarters since we escaped Manera over two days past. Who was it that managed to get us onto Rotavar? Who saw to it that we landed with our skin still attached when the Flux is as damaged as she is?’ She looked at Raj, then a little lower to where Noah recoiled. ‘Huh?’

  ‘You,’ they said in unison like children receiving a punishment.

  ‘Good. Then I say we get the supplies we need and get away from here while we still can.’

  ‘But we can’t,’ Noah said. ‘Rotavar’s surrounded. You’ve seen the turrets they’ve got out there, shooting down everything that moves—wings or no wings.’

  ‘And even if we got past them,’ Raj continued, ‘there’s still the ships in orbit to contend with.’

  Noah nodded. ‘We only made it down here because of the confusion following Manera. If it wasn’t for the Veryans we would have left before this all kicked off!’

  Ah yes—the Veryans of Manera. Justus had thought it possible to save them from Manera’s destruction in exchange for a fee. Typical Justus. Only, they hadn’t saved them. The Lord and Lady Veryan had been lost, their daughter, Aíron, had only just made it out.

  And now Kaara had been taken . . .

  ‘We managed to get down here,’ Dimal said. ‘So it’s sound to assume there’s a way to get back through. I just want to do it before this ruddy desert gets melted like Manera.’

  Noah wiped a plump hand across his forehead. ‘I have no idea how this place hasn’t melted already.’ Dimal shot him an irritable glare. ‘I’m going to go,’ he mumbled. ‘Let you get some rest.’

  ‘I’ll go with you,’ Raj said quickly, and they both retreated from the cockpit into the mid-section of the craft, mumbling what they must have thought were inaudible gripes.

  Adra twisted in her chair and sighed, gazing out into Rotavar’s barren wasteland. They were positioned on the outskirts of Kondogopas and had been there for the best part of three days. Manera had been wiped off the map, completely annihilated, but Rotavar had been occupied, the area surrounding the planet quarantined, and no vessel or craft allowed leave or entry.

  As she sat pondering their next move, Dimal noticed in the corner of her eye a small form enter the cockpit. Aíron Veryan approached Dimal and stood behind her chair as though she wished to speak. The acting captain twisted again in her seat. ‘How’s your arm?’ she asked, referring to the sling Aíron had her limb draped in. ‘I hear you hit it pretty hard hanging on out there.’

  ‘Not broken,’ the rouge-haired girl replied, placing herself down in the co-pilot’s chair, feet dangling above the floor.

  Adra crossed her legs and leaned back. ‘Good to hear. Everyone’s been welcoming, I hope.’

  ‘Oh, yes, very much.’

  ‘You look worried, Aíron.’

  She kept her head down. ‘It’s just . . . those Crilshan soldiers. They’re out there . . . lots of them. Won’t they find us?’

  ‘Eventually yeah, but I’m planning on us being long gone by then. For now we have our cloaking device activated. It doesn’t make us invisible, just unnoticeable from the distance the Red Eyes are right now. But any closer and they will likely spot us.’

  ‘Us,’ Aíron repeated. ‘How . . . How many of you are there?’

  ‘In the Flux?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Well, not counting me and the Cap’n, there’s Rajkumar and Noah: the two ingrates you passed on the way in. Noah’s our medic and Raj is engineering. Don’t worry. It takes me ages to learn names too. You’ll get used to them. There’s Raj’s sister Jayashri—oh, hi Shree,’ she said, noticing another woman trudge into the cockpit. Aíron almost fell from her chair when she saw Jayashri Timbur walk towards them.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Dimal told her. ‘She’s fine. This is Aíron Veryan, Shree. Say hi.’

  Shree nodded slowly. Easily seven-feet tall, and weighing more than Raj and Noah put together, the gargantuan that was Shree made life on board the Flux so much easier. She did all the heavy lifting and was always handy to have in a fight. She and her brother had been part of the crew for some years now. They were family—nothing less.

  ‘Your brother’s with Noah, Shree,’ Dimal said. ‘Okay?’

  Shree nodded silently, stood watching Aíron for a few moments, and then did a three-point turn, disappearing into another section.

  Aíron breathed out. ‘She doesn’t talk?’

  ‘Not once.’

  Aíron looked away, and then back to Dimal. ‘So there’s only a few of you. And where are you from?’

  ‘Everywhere,’ she said. ‘Proveria, Mars, and Justus is from Earth.’

  ‘I heard Earth is pretty awful
.’

  Dimal shook her head. ‘Oh, it’s not.’

  ‘Then how come you’re here?’

  The girl had a point. The whole crew, however, knew Earth was a sore spot for Justus. Nobody knew why he’d left, but it was impossible not to notice that they’d never been near humanity’s home in all the years they’d been with him.

  Sensing she wasn’t going to get a response, Aíron said, ‘And what about the other girl, the—’

  ‘Girl who saved your life?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Kaara.’ Her lip trembled, tears welled up. ‘Brave, gutsy, stupid girl. Like a sister to Justus.’

  ‘It’s hit him hard, huh?’

  ‘No harder than losing what you have. How’re you holding up?’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ Aíron said, unconvincingly. ‘What are we going to do now though, Adra? Where do we go?’

  ‘I don’t know. But we’ll think of something. We always do. Some would call it a coincidence that we happened upon your distress call back on your home. I’d prefer to see it as fate.’

  They both smiled. Dimal was glad she could offer the girl a small comfort, but she had to force her own smile, knowing that Dishan war vessels arriving here so numerous and brutal could only mean a more widespread crisis. The people of Rotavar would no doubt be counting down the days until their home followed next and they too suffered the fate of their sister moon.

  As they continued to gaze out at the second setting sun and watch the darkness rise on this world-held-hostage, Dimal pondered their next move. She would have preferred not to have taken the Crimson Flux’s helm to slip through the blockade during the attack, but Justus hadn’t been able to forgive himself for what had happened to Kaara and so shut himself away. He hadn’t emerged for three days, and everyone, including their temporary guest, understood why.