***
The satellite hummed to life with the touch of a button. Its indicators became active with the system showing fully functional, and they sat on the floor facing one another. The machine was not designed to run in atmosphere. They needed to act quickly before something had a chance to go wrong.
Someone pounded on the door. There was shouting. The metal door was too thick to understand the words, but the meaning was clear. The Mystics moved into the Astral Plane without wasting another second.
The Astral Plane was a riot of color; the satellite manifested as a whirlpool of green and blue energy. It tugged at Julia. She could see how it would work, pulling the energy of the nest into itself. The maelstrom must connect with the physical plane inside the satellite and broadcast from there. She wished she’d spent more time with the engineers when it was being built, but there had been so many other things to get done.
Julia turned toward the binary stars and reached out for the nest at its center. They didn’t need too much of its energy. The dragons within wouldn’t be harmed. They might be upset the Mystics were going against their wishes, but she didn’t fear them. Julia knew how much they loved her, along with all of reality. They wouldn’t harm her and, besides, her mission was the most important thing in the universe at that moment.
The twin stars gave off a pleasant heat as her senses reached between them, seeking the heart of the nest. The solar energy alone was impressive, but that wasn’t what she sought.
The space between the stars was vacant. There was no trace of the nest, no sign that it had ever existed.
“No. This can’t be.” Julia flew closer, searching the empty places again, but they remained empty. The dragons, the nest, everything was gone. They’d conceded Ian’s World to humanity. The dragons had left.
“What’s wrong?” Coraolis asked.
“It’s gone,” she said. “We can’t use the satellite. We’re in trouble.”
***
They returned to the physical world, and Julia drew Dante from stasis. She checked him to make sure he was all right as Coraolis tried to get the door working. Dante grabbed her hand as she was checking his pulse.
“We’ll be happy to surrender, I’m just trying to get this door open,” Coraolis shouted into the intercom. He pushed a button and foul-smelling smoke rose from the device.
“What’s going on?” Dante asked. “Did you do it?”
“No. It’s gone. The nest, the dragons, everything.” Julia took Dante’s hand and pulled him to his feet. He wobbled a little, so she let him lean on her for a moment. She had never wanted to hurt him.
“I’m sorry,” he told her.
“Why? You were trying to stop us.” She was done arguing.
“I’m sorry because you had hope,” he said, looking at her, “and you were disappointed. I’ve been at the root of everything that’s happened to you these last couple years. I feel so guilty.”
“Don’t. And you weren’t. I’m the one in charge of my life.” She let go of his hand and stepped back. It made her sad to do it, but she didn’t trust him. “If things are going wrong again, it’s because of my decisions. I don’t blame you, Dante. My life is better with you in it.”
He flashed a genuine smile. “That’s nice to hear.” Dante then winked at her. He still had his roguish charm, and it made her smile despite herself. He was knowledgeable and kind, and she’d meant everything she said. He was a lovely person, after all, and she was going to miss him.
“I’m just sad we can’t trust you anymore,” she said.
“So am I,” Dante admitted.
Coraolis joined them. “They’ll have the door open any minute. If we’re going to do something, we’ll need to do it fast.”
“Coraolis,” Dante said, but he stopped when Coraolis shook his head.
“I’m not ready to hear anything from you right now, especially an apology,” Cor declared with a frown.
“Let me at least give you my strength, so you know I won’t move against you again.”
Coraolis stared at Dante’s proffered hand like it was a venomous snake. Dante held steady, not pushing himself on Coraolis, but he didn’t withdraw either. A crease appeared between Cor’s eyebrows, the way it did whenever he was thinking hard about something. Julia crossed her arms, unwilling to push him one way or the other.
Coraolis took Dante’s hand, and the hairs on Julia’s neck stood up. Dante paled, then his knees sagged. Cor grabbed his arm and helped him to the ground. Julia sensed the power in Coraolis, rolling off him like fire. If he were in the Astral Plane, he’d be glowing, but in his physical form he just stood straighter and a new light came into his eyes.
“Stand back,” he told them.
Julia backed up halfway to the satellite. Whatever Coraolis was going to do, she didn’t want to get in the way.
The metal door screeched and started to creep open. Coraolis knelt near it, hands behind his head. Julia mimicked him but didn’t bow her head. She had to watch. He held steady while the soldiers pried the doors open, then rushed inside, shouting.
“Thank you,” Coraolis said.
The soldiers hesitated, and that was all Coraolis needed. He slapped his palms onto the metal deck. Streams of electricity snaked out from his hands to strike each of the soldiers. The energy flashed from one soldier to the next, taking them down with little more than a gasp. When the last soldier fell, the electricity disappeared and Coraolis stood. The soldiers didn’t move.
“Let’s go.” He held his hand out to Julia.
She looked at Dante. He was on his knees, drooping like a dead flower. He’d given Cor every drop of energy. He was helpless, waiting to be scooped up and thrown into a prison cell. She wouldn’t say he deserved that, but she would not be able to turn her back on him again. They had to leave him.
***
They ran through the corridors of the station hand-in-hand, alarms echoing overhead. Soldiers faced them at almost every turn. Coraolis used his abilities to take down three more squads, bolstered by Dante’s power and then Julia’s, before they reached their ship and stumbled on board.
“Go. Go,” Julia shouted as soon as the airlock shut behind them.
“Is everyone okay? Where’s Dante?” Barbara called out.
“He stayed behind.” Julia left Coraolis to find a place to strap in and made her way to the cockpit. She slid into the copilot seat and put on her harness.
“What do you mean, he stayed behind? You left him?” Barbara asked.
“He betrayed us. I’ll explain later.” Julia pulled up her tactical display, then wished she hadn’t. Dozens of blips showed where the blockade ships were located, and all of them were homing in on the station.
“What do you mean he betrayed us?” Barbara demanded.
“He tried to stop us. It doesn’t matter now. The nest is gone, and he isn’t on our side anymore. We had to leave him.” Julia spoke quickly, trying to get the words out before her emotions had a chance to catch up.
“I see.” Barbara kept working at the controls, releasing the airlock and making sure that Nirvana was sealed. “I’ll need a little more explanation later.”
“You’ll get it. But we need Jack,” Julia said. “How is he?”
“Sleeping, far as I know. He used himself up getting us here.”
Julia pulled off her harness and got out of her seat. “I’ll have to help him, then. Get us moving. Jack and I will take care of the stealth.”
***
Jack was cocooned in several layers of blankets, snoring softly when Julia barged into his cabin. He didn’t so much as twitch when she shook him. He didn’t respond at all until she got a glass of water and dumped it on his face.
He shot upright, sputtering and flailing. It would have been funny if they weren’t in such a dire situation.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I tried being gentle.”
“Julia? What?” he asked, then came a little further into the land of the living. “It didn’t wor
k?”
“The nest is gone. We need to get out of here, but the E.F. is coming after us.” She worried at her lower lip as she tried to think. “Can you hide us long enough to get out of here?”
“I’ll try, but I’m pretty wiped. I’ll need your strength.”
“You’ve got it.” She took his hands.
Jack lay back, not even having the energy to sit up while working his magic. Cold ran through Julia as he drew on her strength. She slid to the floor and sat there, hand in hand with Jack.
The trick that got them into the system worked well enough to get them out. Barbara put Ian’s World between Nirvana and the blockade, shooting out the other side on a trajectory that put them on course to the next wormhole. They cut power, and Jack made them look like a rogue space rock. As far as Earth Fleet would be able to tell, they’d disappeared into thin ether.
When they were clear, the only person still functional was Barbara. She bundled each of them into bed with water and energy bars and didn’t seem to mind when Julia called her ‘Mom.’ She smiled and said to eat, then sleep, and they’d figure out what to do next when everyone was back on their feet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
February at the Academy was bitter. A damp wind cut through his heaviest winter coat, leaving Dante with perpetual windburn on his cheeks and nose. Eyes followed him wherever he went. His students were curious, his colleagues suspicious. He was the rogue Mystic who’d rebelled against Earth Fleet, escaped prison, and rebelled again…only to end up back at the Academy as a Senior Instructor.
Earth had declared him a traitor before pardoning him for standing up to the other Evolved Mystics. The government didn’t trust him either. They needed a better place to keep an eye on him. What better place than in the middle of those who could fight back on Dante’s terms.
He understood and did his best to lead a sedate existence. No friends. No life. Maybe he was better off on J-5.
He walked into Rian Hall and made his way to his lecture hall, a datapad tucked under his arm. He nodded to other instructors when they crossed paths, but they mostly avoided his gaze. At best, they returned his nod, but no one spoke. He expected it; his name was tainted. He was lucky they let him teach so he could serve some purpose.
Even though his colleagues avoided him, the students flocked to his classes like pigeons to a statue. Their numbers were high enough he was given auditoriums for his lectures. Once, he would have counted that as a point of pride. People from all over wanted to know what he had to say. These days, it worried him. He shouldn’t have had that much influence over anyone.
A hush fell over the class the moment he walked in. He dropped his book on the podium and listened to the echo. His students sat and waited. Some fidgeted or dropped their gazes when he looked at them. He preferred that over the abject admiration in some young faces.
“Today we’re going to talk about Utilitarianism as a Mystic. As you know from your reading, Utilitarianism holds that the best thing to do is whatever does the most good for the largest number of people.” He leaned on his podium and surveyed the room.
As usual, one of the deans sat way up back in the shadiest corner. Sometimes they came in pairs. After two years, he was still under scrutiny. He supposed it would always be that way. He gave Dean Jans a respectful nod, then dove deeper into the lesson.
“Can anyone identify the problems with that philosophy?”
Dozens of hands shot up. He called on them, one by one. With every response they strayed further afield, ending up in a debate as to whether it was all right to rob a bank of ten billion dollars if they also shared the loot with a thousand people. Dante didn’t weigh in. He merely played moderator, trying to get everyone involved in the conversation. He wanted them to think for themselves.
He dismissed his class and smiled at how they kept up their arguments on the way out the door. That was how he knew he’d done well, when ideas took root and kept growing without his help.
One day, someone would see the torments that troubled Dante, the things he couldn’t speak of without being called before the Secret Council. He’d had enough of that to last the rest of his life. Perhaps if he led enough horses to water, one of them would drink.
Dean Jans signaled he wanted to talk, so Dante waited. When a student tried to stop and ask a question, he reminded them of his office hours. A subtle hint about it being lunchtime was usually enough to send them away. Even he needed to eat once in a while.
“That was quite a class,” Jans said. He descended the steps to within speaking range but, like the other faculty, didn’t come closer than he had to.
“Thank you,” Dante said politely. “I hope they learned something.”
“I had a question, but I didn’t want to interrupt,” Jans said. “What problem do you see with Utilitarianism, instructor?”
“Every system has its flaws,” Dante hedged. He picked up his book, riffled through it as if looking for something. It was better to keep his hands busy than to look the Dean Jans in the eye.
“Forgive me. You just seemed to have a look on your face, like you were waiting for a particular answer. I’ve never felt philosophical questions had correct answers, personally,” the other Mystic said.
“They don’t.” Dante shrugged. “I was hoping for a new insight, that’s all. Something new to debate.”
“I see,” Jans said. “And that’s all?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
The dean didn’t seem satisfied with that answer, but it was the only one Dante was going to give. He saw Jans to the door, then took care to go in a different direction from the other Mystic. He felt a little guilty for lying, but he knew better than to tell certain truths. He’d settle for laying the groundwork with his class. He had to leave them to realize he’d been clearing a path for them to follow, if they so choose.
What makes a person, a person? That was the question he wanted them to ask.
The default for humans was to think only of humans as people, but that left out other sentient races. Some narrowed the definition by race, religion, or social class. Most of it was unconscious. It was easier to worry about the good of family over strangers on another planet. And when it came to non-humanoid, non-corporeal creatures, it was easiest of all to call them monsters. Inhuman.
That was where the ice was thin, at least for Dante. If he told them the truth about Dragons, he’d be kicked out of the Academy, possibly imprisoned. If any of his students believed him, he might get them kicked out of the Academy as well.
Dante didn’t want to do that to any of them.
***
Lunch was reheated Pad Thai eaten at his cluttered desk. He had papers to grade and classes to prepare for. There was always something to do, and he liked it that way. For the moment, he was happy to focus on nothing but his meal.
Mystic.
Dante was on the floor in an instant, the voice echoing in his skull as he tried to grasp the emotions pouring through him. They threatened to overwhelm him with just that one word. His eyes leaked. He tried to push the emotions out and distance himself, but he was already off balance.
His dragon arose, creating a buffer between Dante and this psychic assault. The pain in his head was reduced to a dull ache. He blinked, coming back to himself, and saw the Pad Thai spilled on his trousers. The last of his iced tea dripped over the edge of the desk.
They were trivial details but focusing on them made it easier to process the dragon’s presence. It gave him the solid ground he needed to find balance.
A dragon. On Earth. In his office. Most concerning of all, this dragon was familiar in a way that made him want to shrivel up and disappear. This was the Cavey dragon, the one who’d co-opted his body and killed so many.
“You can’t take me again. I have another dragon companion now.” He stepped back, trying to put some more space between them.. “Get lost, why don’t you?”
That is not my purpose. I am here to warn you.
Dante sat up. He c
ould see a hint of the dragon’s presence, like a ghost appearing out of thin air. That was remarkable; he wasn’t exerting his abilities at all, yet the dragon was manifesting. He had no idea that was possible. But then, he’d been doing so-called impossible things a long time now. No one else had ever opened a gate to the Astral Realm or done half the tricks he and the others were capable of. If the dragon wanted to be seen on this side of the veil, it wasn’t even close to the most surprising thing he’d ever witnessed.
“Warn me about what?”
An old enemy has returned. Their hunger has destroyed worlds. It will consume a thousand more, if it is allowed to return.
In an instant, Dante was surrounded by a sea of stars. They moved in a slow dance through the dark sky, each pattern as unique as a snowflake. Dante spun in a slow circle, nearly overwhelmed by their beauty.
A shadow flickered in the distance. It moved almost too quickly to see, but time slowed for Dante. He couldn’t focus on the creatures themselves—it was painful enough to look at their shadows—but it was enough to tell they were perversions of the draconic form. Beasts of hunger and hate incarnate, destroying a star from the inside. It collapsed upon itself and more of the creatures emerged to tear the remaining planets to pieces. When the last of the solar system had been crushed in their jaws they cast about, seeking the next star to snuff out.
The celestial fabric that held reality together rippled on the edge of tearing. The creatures turned their terrible hunger on Dante . He felt nothing but terror as they closed in, snapping their jaws in anticipation of the feast.
***
Dante came back to himself sitting on the floor, his feet scrabbling for purchase on the carpet as he pushed deeper into the corner. He forced them to stop, then reminded himself to breathe.
“What was that?” he gasped.
The end of all things, the hunger that is never sated. They are the incarnation of destruction. We call them Wyrms.
“Wyrms,” Dante repeated. “And they’re coming here?”
They seek a path to the material plane. The dragon lowered its massive head, regret pouring off it like rain. They are drawn to the door we opened.
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