by M. K. Valley
Silent and solid, Twig clasps the crimson fingers I’m staring at. I dare a tentative look. Without flinching, he’s exploring the raw, fleshy map before him, following it to the darkest corners of my madness. His steady hands give me the strength I need to go down that road, back to the loneliest, scariest days and nights of my life.
“When we… played as children, he made me imagine. Simple things, threads, pebbles, a stick or two. Never something too dangerous or complicated. I was desperate to soothe the need to imagine, and just as I thought I’ll finally feel the release, he forbade it, crashing the full strength of the ring’s… reprimand on top of me. The pain and torture supposed to teach me to submit to the will of my wielder. He wanted to be that wielder. And he still does.”
The memory of my brother’s livid, grudge-filled eyes swims before mine. The practiced smile he forced out when I made my choice. The grim set of his mouth and shoulders when I boarded the ship bound to Ares. The promise he whispered as a farewell, that he’ll make sure Scorpio never forgets my betrayal, that I’ll never forget it. Bits and pieces of years long past stab and twist in my mind and spine, numbing me. Stray tears fly to our clasped hands, and with gut-wrenching horror, I realize how close he’s come to leashing me again.
“I lived… I survived through years of being toyed with and bent to the point of breaking. Andrus drove me insane. I’m alive only because of how fine-tuned my shackles were.” I release a shaking hand and run my fingers through the scars. My childhood’s etched onto my flesh. But it wasn’t Andrus who made it impossible to forget. It was me. “Psychic rings don’t cause physical damage, but I was spiraling. My mind went on a rampage. I did this to myself. How do you live through something like this and emerge without a single scar?”
I try to sound reasonable, but it comes out unhinged, and I’m suddenly the little girl in the vast room, discovering for the first time that she can influence biological organisms. The little girl who tore and sewed her skin back together in the dead of night, staring out into the impossible expanse of the skies. Thinking, there must be something more, something other than her gilded cage.
“I made all my scars under the influence of the ring in response to the pain. That’s why they still bleed and ooze and sting. Imagining them gave me pain, and the pain gave me them. I hid them under a thin, imperfect layer of imagiSkin. But when they took the ring off, and I was bound to Ares, I couldn’t undo them. Some forever broken part of me locked me out of that one creation. I couldn’t distinguish where the Aether ended and I began.”
“Because we’re all Aether,” Twig whispers, and I give him a sharp nod.
“Do you see now why I’m always angry, driven, and ready to carve out someone else?” I turn burning, bloodshot eyes to him, but Twig doesn’t flinch. “I know I sound like a monster. Who dreams of the life of a murderous scumbag? Who revels in it, right? But when my hand drives in that blade, I can take responsibility. I’m in control. I need to be in control. I was supposed to be the weapon of a monarch. But I lived as my brother’s toy. I tried to tell on him, and they blamed it on my fragile imagination, can you believe that?” A bitter smile pulls apart my lips into a toothed grimace, and I lean closer, shining a light on the hungry depths of my soul. “That helplessness still burns brightly to this day. And I drink, and go to pit fights every other week, and throw tantrums, and break bones, and kill people, because I want to make as many choices as I can, and own them.” I cough and wheeze and hiss my confession out in between ragged breaths. “Because someone someday will try to take them away from me. And I’ll do whatever it takes to stop them and protect my freedom. Even if I become not just the villain, but the monster of my story.”
The ship hums around us in the sudden silence. The twisted, torn creature I am underneath it all stares back at me from Twig’s wide, stunned eyes. Before dread can convince me that I’ve made a horrible mistake, his face cracks, and he pulls me back into his chest, careful not to harm the raw spots. Soft sobs thrill over my exposed self. But it’s not pity he gifts me. It’s his relief that he’s finally able to help me shoulder that burden. I cling to him, hardening all my fears and shortcomings into resolve.
“I’ll gladly be a monster if that means I can spare you the fate Andrus has in store for me, Twig.”
He shushes me and gently rocks me in his embrace until my tears run dry, and I stop shaking. The grating sinks its cold teeth into our knees, but he doesn’t let go. Not until his warmth can seep through my bones, and he’s made sure my heart’s found its steady rhythm again.
“We’ll go to Scorpio and put an end to this one way or another,” he says eventually, wiping dew-like tears off his eyes when I pull back. “We’ll do it together. No one would ever dare do this again, Andria. I promise you.”
Later, as I’m pulling a new layer of imagiSkin skin over my features, someone almost new looks back at me from the mirror. Someone with no more secrets, someone relieved, with little left to lose, and desperate to preserve it.
PHASE NINE
THE IMAGISUN OF
SCORPIO
What follows my assault on the Consulate is a vortex. But instead of rushing after telling Twig my story, I sit frozen in the co-pilot seat, eyes fixed blindly ahead. The scopes register converging Assassins, all preparing to take off after us. Our Contract’s still active, so they must be getting ready to give chase. But that’s the least frightening thought I have right now.
You see, a long time ago, when the people of the Old Earth first took to space, they spread their flesh far and wide. So far, they couldn’t go back. They could only go forward. You’re at the center of your observable Universe. When you settled in neighboring galaxies, that center shifted. The observable Universe suddenly expanded. Following its natural curiosity, humankind pushed for the new final frontier, again and again. They charted a road, lonely but so full of wonders.
You discovered worlds richer, brighter than your old one. You met others like and very much unlike you. Even today, some of your descendants still chart that road. But they are distant shades of the human of the Old Earth. To some extent, we all are. When you decided to share your life with the rest of the Infinite Universe, you gave yourself a new one. Still, your sight remained limited.
But not ours. See, the Olympians are close to you, compared to other worlds. But they remain invisible to you. I was born on a planet whose light won’t reach you for eternity, regardless of your technology and progress. But we, the Imaginators of the Infinite Universe, can look beyond what’s observable. The ability to bend the quintessence of the Cosmos to our will allows us to carve paths through the imagined fields of the Aether. We can peer into its secrets and understand them. For us, the Universe is no longer dark or unattainable. But if there’s one thing I wish I’d never glimpse again, it’s the beauty of Scorpio’s imagiSun.
ENTER COORDINATES
The mechanical voice of the onboard computer snaps me to attention. A monitor blinks empty on the armrest beneath my hovering fingers. Scorpio’s located in a planetary system considered to be a Crown Jewel of the Infinite Universe. They named it Corona – eight planets dancing in slow motion on the same orbit around an imagined star. It’s as if Saturn grew ambitious and turned its rings habitable. A cohort of Imaginators makes sure nothing ever goes wrong. And each planet has a life of its own. They all bow before one man – my father.
“Have you forgotten the coordinates?”
On my left, Twig performs final checks and warily eyes my hovering hand. I shake my head, though I’ve turned to stone. If this were an unfamiliar mark, someone we’ve stalked for some time before we go to collect, I wouldn’t even blink. But this… “I’m sorry, it’s just that…”
He reaches out, and the weight of his hand atop mine grounds me. I don’t blink or breathe, entering the coordinates, and tremble, waiting for the computer to scan the maps of imagiSpace.
DESTINATI
ON CONFIRMED
SCORPIO, CORONA
SHORTEST ROUTE – 3 IMAGIDAYS
My heart slams against my ribs and halts. Those are just twenty-four standard Earthling hours. My home, my cage is a day’s ride away through the imagiRoutes. My fingers shoot for the belts strapping me tight to the inclined seat, and I barely manage to stumble out of it before I trip and hurl, bile splashing through the grating. Twig’s there in a heartbeat, pulling my hair, warm palm pressed into my back.
“We can put this on hold, boss,” he grunts out as I heave on all fours, stench and tears blurring my vision. “You don’t have to go back to those people.”
I shake my head again and give a final heave before sinking to my heels. “Our colleagues are waiting to take off after us. We can’t disappoint them.”
Twig gives me a half-smile, wiping my face. “Go get some water, I’ll clean up here.”
I wobble off, clutching my stomach, pressing my mouth. Try as I might, there’s nothing light about our situation. The Contract’s still active. Once we leave orbit, we’re fair game. That’s why I want to use the electromagnetic storm that’s about to unfold outside the dome. I can get us into imagiSpace the second we clear the boundary, slipping out before we take damage. Anyone hell-bent on following us will have to deal with scopes going crazy for a moment. That will give us enough time to pull ahead. Once we can exit and re-enter imagiSpace with no one on our tails, they’ll lose us for a bit longer. But if any of that is to work, I need to get a grip.
Sucking on my teeth, I sway back into place a few minutes later. “I’ll be the one navigating the imagiDrive,” I say, startling Twig. “It will be close. If someone’s after us, I need you to pilot like the devil’s on your heel. The first time we’re about to exit imagiSpace, I want us to be clear of pursuers.”
Twig drops his voice low. “Andria, you can’t spend eight hours in imagiSpace alone.”
The belts click into place, and I throw my hair up before my fingers slide into the mesh carved into the armrests. “Of course, I can. You make sure it’s only eight hours. If we pop out of the Aether unnoticed, I’ll have enough time to recover while we hide behind an asteroid or something. We’ll duo it from there.”
He shakes his head but doesn’t argue. You can’t create a smokescreen while in imagiSpace, you can only outrun the rest. And I need a pilot to correct my course. Otherwise, we’d drift on a predetermined trail until a better ship catches up to us. We both want to avoid that. At last, with a sigh, Twig starts the autopilot to take us into orbit. “Initiating ignition. Prepare for imagiSpace entry.”
The cutter shudders, our tail spitting fire somewhere below us, and my heart starts galloping. “Please, avoid the EM storm,” I whisper, resting back into a seat that tilts another fraction of an inch.
Twig grunts and rests back as well, but his seat remains steady on its axis. “Please, avoid dying.”
I give him a nervous chuckle and focus on the panels retracting from our nose. I’m greeted by the dome. Ethereal, you can almost forget it’s there sometimes. The EM storm brews in flashing whirls a hair’s breadth from the boundary. My fingers curl into the mesh as the cutter bucks and peels off the ground, the echo of its roar thrumming through my bones. The climb through the well is quick and steady, and we hit the dome with bone-jarring urgency, a dozen or so crafts already airborne on our tail. The shroud rips open like a womb to spit us on the other side, trailing down the ship and closing behind us with a sigh.
“We’re clear,” Twig announces as the darkness above engulfs us. “Switching to manual.”
Ares’ artificial gravity sinks its claws behind my navel, pulling, yanking back, but there’s never been a planet I can’t leave. Things won’t start changing now. I close my eyes and bring the mesh to life, the prick of a needle stinging at my nape. As my eyelids flutter down, reality folds in on itself and swallows us whole.
In the darkness of my eyes and mind, imagiSpace comes to life. That, which isn’t matter, squirms and slithers around the cutter, probing, groping at fabric that isn’t its own.
The intergalactic society is beyond old ships and frail tech. We don’t need capsules for cryosleep or FTL drives. All we need is a point of entry and one of exit. Twig sees a gleaming spiderweb of carved-out paths for him to follow, whereas, for me, it’s all dark except for the beacons left by other Imaginators who’ve burst out of the Aether on new worlds, in new galaxies. If I wasn’t squeamish about parking us in the heart of a star or the event horizon of a black hole, I could rip out of the Aether wherever, and it would leave a mark for others to use as a gateway.
Too few are the corners of the Infinite Universe that don’t hold beacons to matter. The Corona system I was born in is brightly lit on the map fed into the imagiDrive. I’m focused on it as an indicator we’re on the right course. Every time it disappears from view, I know Twig’s correcting to avoid pursuers, and I reach into the Aether to twist and turn it and rearrange the spiderweb so that he’s able to follow the best route to our first point of exit.
When I surface from imagiSpace, Twig’s leaning over me, dabbing a streak of blood from my nose. His hand hovers as we lock eyes.
“We good?” I croak out, and he nods, retreating as my seat rights itself.
“Shook them off, but the course corrections were enough to delay us. You were there nine and a half hours.”
“Let me brush my teeth, and I’ll be good to go.”
I unclasp the belts, and this time, Twig’s there to support me as I stumble out of the co-pilot seat, boots clamping to the floor. “I want you to lie down and get some shut-eye,” he instructs, navigating me down ladders and through short, freezing corridors. “I parked us well, you can spare a few hours.”
And maybe I need to. Bloody phlegm sticks to the back of my throat as I nod, the taste of copper clinging to my gums. But I can’t blink. My fingers trace the straps keeping me on the bunk in the broom closet considered a room on the cutter. I’m all strung up, thinking about going back into the Aether. Twig’s showing me mercy, not asking questions, as I don’t have a plan moving forward. I pull on the thin blanket. It’s not the ship that’s cold, it’s my body. It’s not just the exertion from navigating alone for hours through the Aether that makes me shiver.
What am I going to do once we get to Scorpio? I can’t let my mouth run and declare a war that I have neither the power nor men to lead. There’s no way to sneak onto the planet, let alone into the palace, to murder my brother, despite how much I want that. My only option is to force a confession out of him. Illegal Contracts with the Olympians and abusing the power of their Imaginators is a crime. Not to mention Andrus broke the word of a monarch. My father might not be too concerned with my free will, but he’ll care about the stain on Scorpio.
I give Twig the bare bones of my plan to request an audience when we’re about to make our second jump, and to my surprise, he just nods along. The rest of the way goes smoothly, with no indication someone’s following us. It’s easier to share the burden of manipulating imagiSpace with my partner as the autopilot guides us over the spiderweb of paths.
We make an exit into a neighboring system, separated from Corona by a few minutes through the Aether, to replenish our powers. We barely speak, my heart’s lodged into my throat, slamming so hard against my rib cage, I twitch and flinch every once in a while. Twig’s unblinking eyes skip from various indicators and monitors every other second. I can’t find the words to console him, but the guilt of dragging him with me feasts on my insides. As we ease into the Aether, I decide that if we survive all this, I’ll help him carve his own path and remove myself from his life. I can’t have something like this happening again.
EXITING IMAGISPACE
DESIGNATION REACHED
WELCOME TO CORONA
I break into a cold sweat when I open my eyes to the nothingness of the Cosmos before us. Next to me, Twig’s alre
ady come to his senses. “Computer, kill the speed, take us to starboard, and switch to manual.”
The maneuver should take us on the mercantile path flowing to and from the system of planets. My fingers curl into the deactivated mesh, wide-eyed I await the chance to glimpse the star and its worlds, but a bloodcurdling shriek blares through the cutter.
WARNING
My head snaps to Twig, who’s clenching manual control in one hand, the other flying over the station. “Someone’s targeting us!”
“On the screen!” I shout, leaning in my seat, straining the buckles, but even my wildest dreams couldn’t prepare me for what we see.
The imagiSun of Scorpio is beautiful, huge, and menacing, it burns itself onto your memory. Four of the system’s planets dance before it on their slow trip around the star. Immediately, I know Scorpio’s on the other side of the artificial sun, but that’s not what makes my heart drop.
A colossal, impossible interplanetary ring belts the worlds and their star. A massive structure that must be the work of Imaginators. The interstellar defense system and its immeasurable firepower stand like a final frontier we’ll never be able to cross. The onboard computer’s already identifying the half a dozen railguns locked on us. I freeze.
“We need to jump back.”
When, how, and why did the emperor of Scorpio order the ring built? Am I the threat they’ve been preparing for?
“Andria, you have to connect!”
“All I did was leave,” I whisper as a railgun winks somewhere in the Vacuum.
Twig curses, and my stomach slams into my heels when he turns the ship by ninety degrees and takes us into a nosedive spin. The computer continues to spew warnings, the whole cutter rattles when the charge from the railgun misses us by chance. The feed from our hull sensors shows me another five twinkling, shooting stars racing toward us. Then manual control drops into my lap, the visual cuts off, and the world fades as the Aether devours us.