Journey From Heaven
Page 70
Episode Seventeen
The ship’s name in M’hah was Mrranq’nux, literally “seed cone.” It rose from Ranar’s surface without any obvious motive force and then swiftly dwindled into the sky as if snatched from their presence. The reality of Guardians, rather than engines, lifting the ship’s great bulk into space, required a complete paradigm shift, Kaniik decided. Like everything else he’d seen in the past few weeks, nothing would ever be quite the same. How could it? More than five thousand years ago, he and his crew mates had lifted off from P’nar knowing enough to traverse the galaxy safely—and that was about all. The M’hah might know the intricacies of much that was invisible to the naked eye, if they were using electron microscopes, or radio telescopes at the other end of the spectrum, but none of those devices had ever hinted at the realities of the spiritually unseen. For that the Original Legends, long spoken of throughout the history of the M’hah, had been the best guides. Who could have guessed they were intensely and penetratingly true? Who could have guessed at the real purpose behind their long journey, or how different revelation would make them and the entire universe around them?
“How long will the return voyage take?” He asked. To the casual observer, it would have seemed like he was speaking to himself or to thin air—that is, if the casual observer were one of the M’hah or another of the galaxy’s far flung species. Except for his experience before the throne of Mt. Fe two weeks ago, he himself wouldn’t have known someone accompanied him as he watched beside the crimson field now known as Sadeh-Dahm-HaMeshiach. (The strange dialect the Guardians sometimes lapsed into rolled easily off M’hah tongues, whether or not the exact meaning of the words was beyond his grasp.) Even now, to his eyes, he only saw an occasional sparkle in the air or a flash of light above him. The Guardians and the mightier Uruff-fas above even them were kind, in that regard; M’hah eyesight could not yet accommodate for prolonged periods the glory revealed upon Mt. Fe. All that, he understood, would change in due time—as he and the others shared ever more deeply in the purposes of Ranar itself.
Kaniik waited. For the moment twilight reigned, with deep dusk gently paling the planet’s dark skies and countless stars. They were to look in a certain direction and watch for a flash, signal that the ship had entered one of the doorways between the stars.
He saw it, finally, as if a door had literally opened for a long second, allowing in light from another place that was brighter than Ranar’s sun. The light was extinguished, again as if a door had closed.
“How long will it take?”
The voice wasn’t Kaniik’s, or the expected voice in answer, either. It was Nuor who spoke. Kaniik smiled to himself. Everyone called him Kaniik the Impetuous, but more than anyone else of the M’hah Twelve, he seemed to be the quickest to appreciate that Ranar’s High Uruff-fa and his companions dwelt in the universe like the M’hah, yet dwelt in ways different from the M’hah, too, especially when one considered time as they’d understood it.
“They will be home shortly,” a feminine voice chimed, feminine sounding because it was at a higher register than Kaniik associated with the one called Bo’el. In reality, he wasn’t sure the distinctions he knew as feminine and masculine held with the Guardians and their Uruff-fas.
“Shortly!” Nuor almost snorted.
Kaniik smiled again, sure the Guardian noticed both his smile and Nuor’s impatience. But he understood Nuor’s feelings. All those centuries the M’hah had been aboard Mrranq’nux, either in stasis or performing their rounds of duties, and now they were to return to P’nar shortly? Did the Guardian mean in minutes? Hours? A handful of days? What had it been like for the Guardians to accompany Mrranq’nux for over five thousand years, knowing at any time they could have made the journey themselves shortly?
That line of thought led him back to P’nar. What kind of changes had taken place in their absence? Would P’nar even be recognizable? Would the M’hah they’d left behind remember them? Perhaps think they had been lost among the stars, never to be seen again? The galaxy was a large place—the universe infinitely larger. The galaxy alone could devour untold millennia in its exploration, especially if they were lost and must find their way home at a quarter of the speed of light, the top speed Mrranq’nux managed in its flight to Ranar.
What did he care? Tomorrow (he assumed it could be by tomorrow) all of P’nar would celebrate Mrranq’nux’s return with a grand fête, one in which he would not participate. None of the Twelve would. He flicked one ear with a finger, the equivalent of a pinch. He had to make sure this was real, that he was on Ranar and that he had forever become one of the Twelve. While the others of the Mrranq’nux returned home, to family and their familial circles, he would be learning more of Ranar and sharing in the ways of Elyon’s servants.
“They’re home,” I said in M’hah. The Twelve glanced at each other in astonishment mixed with awe. Nuor seemed the most affected. Kaniik, as usual, was the quickest to recover.