by A. R. Knight
“It’s a pair of Oratus, Plake. I know what you’re thinking. I know this isn’t what you’re hoping for, but they say they have money. They came in an official craft, on military business. They can pay you.”
Just buzzing static. Then another thunk, a bang on the door.
“I see why you were trying to hide that fact from me, Coorvin. I really do. You think that I’m going to let two monsters onto my ship? You really think so?”
Sax reaches across Coorvin, presses a claw on the button. “Captain Plake, this is Sax, of the Vincere, third letter rank. I’ve never done anything to hurt the Vyphen. Never done anything to hurt you, your ship or your crew. My pair and I are only requesting transport to the closest station, and will pay you well for it. If you like, we can stay in your cargo hold. Out of your way. You’ll collect a good sum for our delivery.”
Sax releases the button, turns back to Bas, as he can here her amused hissing laugh.
“Never knew you could be so diplomatic,” Bas replies.
“When I have to.”
“Interesting,” Plake’s burbling bursts from the communications array. “I suppose I could bury my hatred for you for a little while. We’re not too far from another station now, a place where you should be able to secure passage back to where you need to be. But when I open the door, it’s my ship and my rules. You’ll follow them, or I won’t hesitate to melt you into slag. Nothing would make me happier.”
“She sounds like a fighter,” Sax says.
“She’s efficient, and very protective of her ship.” Coorvin replies.
There’s a whistling noise of pressurizing air, and suddenly the outer locked door twists and shunts out away from the mod. Reveals a trio of creatures, all of them holding miners, and all of them pointing right at Sax and Bas.
“Coorvin, out you come,” a pitch night-furred Flaum, with a small miner in one hand, beckons for Coorvin to jump out.
Coorvin doesn’t wait either, scrambling out of the mod. Sax is slightly insulted, but it’s not like the Flaum owes either Oratus anything. It’s because of them he’s no longer on the station, even if that means Coorvin’s outside Dalachite’s clutches.
“You two,” hums a deep red Whelk, a slug-like beast that stands two meters tall, though its short, stubbly arms are no match for Sax’s claws.
It holds a large weapon, no, Sax sees now - the miner is meshed into the sides of the Whelk’s body. It’s not the only modification showing on the slug; some sort of strange helmet with a cybernetic eyepiece rests on the Whelk’s domed head. The Whelk’s skin, a sliming crimson, shimmers as Sax looks at it.
Whatever they’re dealing with here, this isn’t an ordinary merchant ship.
“Time to come out, and you’re gonna do it slow. As I say.” The Whelk’s voice comes from a slit it breaks in its skin, and the smattering of sounds come from undulations deep within its body. It’s a strange noise, but it works.”First the pink one. Slow and easy.”
Sax wants to protest. To argue and demand that he go before his pair, the better to let Bas know if they’re going to be facing a surprise execution. Yet, the last thing he wants to do is antagonize their would be rescuers, so Sax stays quiet as Bas climbs over him. Her tail, ever so briefly, wraps around his own and gives a slight squeeze. Then she’s gone, out through the circle and beyond the red Whelk. Sax sees the other Flaum peel away, the black-furred creature already chittering at Bas.
“Now you. You were the one that talked, right? The one that said cash for delivery?” The Whelk sounds smug as it says this.
Sax feels his claws clench. Forces them back open. Keeps his arms low.
“I meant it,” Sax says. “Deliver us, and your captain will get her money.”
“How much you think she’ll get for one instead of two?” The Whelk says. “Or dead instead of alive?”
“You’ll get one shot,” Sax hisses, leaving his mouth open so the Whelk can see just how many teeth are waiting to bite. “You’ll get one shot, and then I’ll tear you in half. Then I’ll tear the rest of your crew to pieces. I’ll find your captain and I’ll stuff her back in here with what’s left of you, and shoot her into space. One shot. Better kill me or all of you are dead.”
The skin beneath the Whelk’s helmet changes, a streak of pale blue forming against the crimson in the shape of a nasty grin. “Glad we got the threats out of the way. At least I know you’re actually Oratus. No Sevora come would bother with a speech like that. Come on, get out of there. The captain might hate you, but I know what you do. As one warrior to another, respect.”
Sax follows the Whelk’s lead, clambers out the evac mod and into a wide cargo bay. He notices first that this isn’t some small shuttle, this is a serious ship. A freighter of size, and one that’s currently hauling a ton of what looks like foodstuffs. The crates tower around them, with the broad doors for unloading closed to his left. Beneath him, Sax can feel the engines hum, the vibrations of the ionized gas pushing the ship forward. No doubt they’d be leaping soon.
Beyond the crates, the ceiling of the freighter begins to slope down and then spreads into three separate portals leaving straight, left and right.
“Don’t think you’ll be getting the grand tour though,” the Whelk says as Sax looks around. “Captain Plake wants you restricted to the right module. Luckily, it’s a good one. Kitchen, entertainment. Plenty of space for your big bodies.”
“Thanks,” Sax says.
“Don’t thank me,” the Whelk replies. “Thank her.”
The Whelk points with his fixed cannon by Sax, over the top of the crates to the straight-away portal, which had just opened to reveal a feathered, smooth-skinned yellowish creature, with two long legs, and a pair of feathered arms that extend to circular, webbed hands with nubby fingers. Large round eyes, rising up over the top of her head, rotate towards Sax. Her mouth opens, and Sax can see, even from this distance, the folded curl of her tongue.
“Agra-Red,” Plake announces, her voice just as gurgling as it sounded through the transponder. “Get them locked away. I want to leap out of this dismal patch of space and kick these two off my ship before I decide to kill them.”
“Plake’s a wonder, isn’t she?” Agra-Red, the Whelk, laughs and nudges Sax forward with the edge of its miner.
Delightful.
3 A New World
Vimelia.
Ignos sends me the name as the shuttle passes into a large cavern beneath the ground. I can’t even see the end of it, as the moment we leave the tunnel, a light, bright and white, opens above us and tracks the shuttle, sliding just ahead and guiding us towards an empty space. It’s a blinding shine, and the light washes out anything outside that I could see. The engines slow down and stop as the shuttle lowers itself to the ground. Struts extend and the whole thing settles with the slightest of bumps.
Vimelia is my home.
“Does this mean we can get out now?” Viera says, and I see that her netting is gone.
The straps holding Viera’s feet to the ground retract and in the second mine do as well. A short, quick snap, and then I stumble forward, suddenly free. My legs are stiff, my knees hurt, but I can move.
The Sevora did not begin here, but this is where we have gone. Where we live.
I catch myself on the terminals, the screens that used to show a map of the galaxy, now dead and blank. I don’t understand. This shuttle belonged to the Oratus. To Sax and Bas. Why did it come here?
Because you told it to. Once it arrived, my friends guided it down. Do not be afraid, Kaishi.
“Do you know where we are?” Malo asks me, and as he says the words, he puts his hand on my shoulder.
That’s the first touch I’ve had since we left. Since I learned that I took my two friends to place so far from home that it doesn’t even exist in our imaginations. I almost break right then. Almost collapse at the idea that we’ve come so far and yet are nowhere near where we need to go.
Tell them.
“This is where Ign
os, where its kind live,” I say, though I can’t quite bring myself to turn and look at Malo and Viera as I talk. “When it told me what numbers to press, it sent the shuttle here.”
“The creature tricked us,” Viera says. “Seems like we ought to get it out of your head and underneath my boot.”
“For once, I agree with the Lunare.” Malo’s voice is angry, resigned. “It’s betrayed you, Kaishi. We can’t trust it anymore.”
“We didn’t have a choice,” I say. “We don’t know how to fly this thing. We didn’t know where to go—”
I want to keep going, to pour out my frustrations one after another, when a whooshing sound from behind us, towards the middle of the shuttle, draws me away. Closes my mouth. Viera and Malo don’t hesitate though. The Lunare steps back, near me, and puts her clenched fists up near her face. Malo does his own version, settling into a crouch and keeping his eyes straight ahead.
I see it then. Something that looks much the same as what we left behind. Only instead of gray or pink gold, these scales are a strange faded yellow, and many have black around the edges, a few are even missing. The Oratus still stands tall, and it’s flanked by a pair of very real, non-fuzzy Flaum that stomp into the shuttle behind it. Whereas Sax and Bas didn’t seem to wear any clothing, this one sports strange black metal pieces. Bracelets around its wrists and ankles. When it looks at me, with burning green eyes, I get the sense that it sees possibility.
“Please, put yourselves at rest,” the Oratus says. “I am Nasiya, leader of the Sevora. Which one of you is the master?”
“I am,” I say, stepping in front of Viera and Malo.
No sense having them take the blame, get hurt if there’s an attack.
“You entered the code to come here?” Nasiya replies in the harsh hissing voice Oratus have.
“Ignos told me what to enter,” I reply.
This only seems to confuse the creature, and its eyes narrow.
“Told you?” The Oratus doesn’t turn around, but I can tell it’s not speaking to me when it says, “We confirmed that there are no weapons on the ship, yes?”
“Of course,” a brown-furred Flaum replies. “The scan showed that even though this is a Vincere ship, there is at least one hosted creature among these.”
The Oratus centers its eyes on me again. “One hosted creature. I see three. Though, much to my chagrin, I know not what you are.”
Answer him.
I don’t know what to say. Part of me doesn’t want to say anything. Wants to push back, demand that we be taken home. Part of me wants to fight, to resist. But we’ve been fighting for so long. It feels like an eternity since we left the city, Damantum, on the march to stop the Oratus invaders. In truth, I don’t know how long it’s been.
I do know that I’m tired. My head hurts and my bones are weak. I need food, sleep. And the last thing I can do right now is struggle.
“We are humans,” I say. “From a planet called Earth. Ignos came to me, and lives inside me now.”
Things happen quickly. Nasiya triggers some invisible signal. His shape, those pale yellow scales, fuzz and then vanish entirely. I barely process this before the two Flaum beckon us forward and push the three of us out of the shuttle.
As we go down the ramp, I see a dozen slug-like creatures standing off to the right holding what Ignos calls instruments. They sweep up the ramp after we leave it, and sounds of ripping metal, shifting crates, and loud yells pour back to us.
Now that I’m in the bay, I get a better view of the giant space and notice it’s packed with other ships, some coming and going, those lights popping up to guide them. The Flaum lead us through the dark, though I’m not sure how the Sevora hosts can see the where they’re going, until I start stepping along the ground. Low green circles appear - it seems the ground itself changes color - directing me where to go.
It reads me, Kaishi. Vimelia connects to me the way I connect to you.
The three of us follow the Flaum, with more walking behind. If they carry some form of weapon, I can’t see it, and once the threat of our execution dies away and my pounding heart slows, I actually start looking around. We pass from the large cavern into beautiful hallways. Or at least, they appear that way to me. The walls are coded in waves of shifting color that change as we pass by. A section may start as swaths of bright blue and morph with a wave of green that fades into pink and yellow as we leave it behind. I ask Ignos what it means.
Just as you have your paintings, the Sevora have ours. Much of our history is told through patterns of light and how they change. It is a language, it is a story. One I will tell you someday if you like.
The hallway ends in a long chamber with a wall full of circular doors. Lines of species stand in front of them, stepping in through those openings as others step out. We go to the largest one, on the far right. It’s the only one without a line, and also the only one with a red line around the doorway. In between each of the circles, screens display messages warning of closures, delays, and news full of terms I don’t understand.
“When it opens,” the lead Flaum announces in its squeaky voice. “The three of you will move in first. You will take your seats on the far side as best you are able. We will follow, and when we are secured, we will proceed.”
As if waiting for its speech to end, as soon as the Flaum quiets, the circular doorway shunts open and reveals a strange pearl disk waiting for us. The three Flaum in front of me part, and wave us through.
“Guess we’re riding this thing?” Viera asks.
“I suppose?” I say. “I don’t think we have a choice.”
“You mean we’re prisoners again?” Viera replies, and I can’t help smiling at her sarcasm.
Humor is like a cup full of cold water right now; refreshing and vital.
“We will do what we’ve done before,” Malo says, and I notice he’s switched to the Charre tongue.
It works here, as it did on Cobalt. The Flaum escorting us stare around at each other, confused. They don’t know what Malo said. We have our secret, and I shake my head slightly to warn them not to use it. Not here.
I lead the way, walk through the circle door - warning Malo to watch his head - and step onto the white disk. Around us is a cerulean-shaded transparent tube. Every so often black lines mark the seams between pieces, the seals holding it together. I can see ahead of me that the tube curls up and slightly to the right. Away from the bay.
I’m about to ask where the seats are when the disk shivers and, seeming to arise from nothing, three individual chairs mold up out of the surface. They’re barely wide enough to fit me, and Viera and Malo squeeze into theirs, all of us arrayed in the line, at odd angles. As soon as we sit down, like the straps on the shuttle, more pearly stuff leaks up from the floor and wraps itself around our arms and legs. Three Flaum get in behind us, and this time I see that the chairs are indeed flowing up from the disk, making the platform itself shrink in the process. Some form of amorphous material, forming itself to the needs of the riders.
“While we are en route, try not to speak,” the lead Flaum warns us, though he doesn’t explain why.
There’s no signal, no sign. One moment we’re sitting on the platform in our cramped chairs and the next we’re shooting up through the tube. Rising upward at a velocity I’ve never felt before. Far faster than dashing through the trees. Wind blows my hair forward, dark strands slashing across my face. I close my eyes.
No. Keep them open. Look.
I do, then. And I’m glad. What I see around me is beyond anything I’ve seen before. From the shuttle, up above, the city seemed false somehow. Unreal. I couldn’t reach out and touch it, I wasn’t level with the buildings and the swirling, swooping structures. But here, as the tube rockets us out of the cavern and into the day, I’m stunned at built beauty rivaling the jungle flowers of my home.
Glittering structures of all heights and all colors rise up around us. Some resemble shapes I’ve seen on Earth: squares, or tall towers. Others rise as t
riangles or sloping domes. Thin spires that lead to cubes raised high in the air.
Next to us, on either side, other tubes rise up and glide in parallel, then cut away or up or down. New ones join our track. We shift, though I don’t really feel it aside from a slight jolt in the scenery. All I know is that we’re moving. Going somewhere.
The Flaum in front of us don’t seem to react. Their eyes pin to me, Malo and Viera. They’re so serious. I don’t know why, seeing as were surrounded by marvels.
In Solare legends, we talk of the great cities of the gods; gold and silver and jade everywhere. Whole palaces built of gems that sparkled with an infinite shine. If I could have chosen a place that described those tales, Vimelia would be it.
The Sevora cannot choose the qualities of the species we take, but we can choose what we create. Express ourselves through the worlds we make. What we wish we would see around us. Vimelia is a representation of what we wish to be.
Beyond the buildings I see a tan sky cluttered with moving specks and shifting forms. All shapes, from the angular angry things that escorted us in, to larger floating barges drifting through the air. Others rocket up from the surface, screeching towards the sky before vanishing. There’s so much motion everywhere that it almost makes me dizzy. The jungle, aside from buzzing insects, was often still.
I try to take a breath, to ask Viera and Malo what they think, what they see, but when I push air out of my lungs it doesn’t want to go. The words emerge and die instantly. Squeaks amid the constant roar of wind. That’s why they warned us not to speak.
The platform twists and swirls through a series of interlocking gates and I sense a sudden fall, though I don’t see it, and we slow to a crawl as we pass beneath a series of large, metal loops. The sky vanishes for a long moment and we’re plunged into dark.
A switch station.
Then we are out again, this time moving in a straighter line. I can see the switch station behind us, and from the outside, it looks like the Amigga; so many tubes looping in from everywhere. Platforms shoot in from all angles and sides and then back out again in different directions.