by Josh Leone
Vig left the room, going back to his engine tunnels to begin disabling the Legion tech. When they were alone Iyanna again placed her hand on Jonah’s. She set Vig’s mug down and put her other hand on Jonah’s cheek, drawing his face to hers, kissing him. Jonah’s eyes went wide for a moment but then he returned the kiss. Iyanna led him to her private cabin where Vig had confirmed there were no cameras to eavesdrop on their conversation. When they were alone, Iyanna and Jonah sat on her bunk.
Her cabin was unadorned, Iyanna not having had the option of collecting her personal effects before losing her ship to the Legion scrappers. She waited for Jonah to speak, preferring to let him guide the conversation. Iyanna rather enjoyed just having Jonah near. After several minutes though, Iyanna began to wonder if he had changed his mind about confiding in her.
Then she felt Jonah’s hand on her cheek. Iyanna looked up and saw him looking back at her, looking into her eyes. She saw his sadness, and something more. She saw longing. It was a longing for a universe that made sense, for someone to understand his pain and take it away, and for the comfort of another living soul cast onto the winds of fate as he’d been. She wanted to be those things for him.
He kissed her, first lightly on the corners of her mouth then firmly and fully, pressing his lips to hers as though he feared ending the moment. Iyanna’s hands found his shoulder, his neck, and came to rest entangled in Jonah’s hair. She let herself fall back, bringing him with her onto the bed. Iyanna was not inexperienced in sex, but those times had been merely physical. What she felt with Jonah while yet fully clothed was more intense than what she’d ever felt when naked against another.
Each kiss seemed to last only seconds, while the time between the touching of their lips felt like hours. All things vanished except the sensation. Power hungry Callers ceased to crave power. A ship lost to Legion scrappers no longer mattered. Crying Gorwals fearing for a lost child faded from memory. Anger at being used as a spy by ego-driven Admirals was laid to rest. All of these things would return, but for now they were driven far away. No fear, no pain, no regret had the power to intrude on this moment.
Afterward, as he lay in her bed with Iyanna sleeping nestled into his broad chest, Jonah considered what Spirit Walker had said.
‘Faith you must find on your own, as must we all.’
Jonah looked at Iyanna’s sleeping form and felt, for the first time since P30-6, that he knew what he could fight for. Vashek had given Jonah power, Spirit Walker had given him purpose, but Iyanna, she had given him faith. Iyanna made small, satisfied sounds as she slept. Jonah smiled and closed his eyes, ordering his tech to induce sleep in him. He also had the tech record the feeling of Iyanna’s skin, her smell - like cherry blossoms - and the sound of her contented breathing. If he was to die in fulfillment of his mission, then these would be the last things he experienced.
‘I will stop you, Vashek. I will put an end to your madness,’ Jonah thought. ‘But for now, in this moment, you have my thanks for giving me this ability.’
Jonah slept and dreamt of Iyanna’s kiss. He slept well.
◊
It occurred to Seth that if he were to turn down the inertial regulators it might liven things up a bit. But no, why take a stupid risk like that when the job was so close to done? Instead Seth settled for taking the Journey through a series of maneuvers that would best be described as acrobatic.
The ship handled wonderfully, better than it ever had before. The controls responded instantly and with precision. The maneuvers didn’t even strain the force fields that maintained hull integrity at high speed. Modern polymer/metal hybrid materials were strong, but running a complex machine like a spaceship at a goodly percentage of the speed of light still required shields to avoid things ripping off.
Those shields also protected against bits of debris that might otherwise drill holes straight through the ship if the only thing standing against them was solid matter. And of course those shields could be amplified to protect not so accidental threats by absorbing and dissipating various kinds of energy, including kinetic.
“Yep,” Seth said as he patted his control board. “You are one fine lady.”
“Who’re you talkin’ to Cap’n?” Seth had left the door to the bridge open, so Vig had been able to sneak up behind him. Seth managed to not squeak in surprise, but only just.
“No one,” Seth said irritably. “Don’t you have a relay to replace or a tunnel to clean? Or are you spending all your time sneaking up on people now?”
“Just you, Cap’n. Ya know, it kind of sounded like you were talkin’ to the control console.”
“So, what if I was?”
“Well, just worried that’s all. Space dementia is nothin’ to be ashamed of, Cap’n. Happens to the best of us sometimes.”
Seth tried not smile. “So why are you sneaking around the place, anyway?”
“Wasn’t sneakin’, Cap’n. But don’t you worry. Hearing is often the first thing to go. Man of your age has to start watchin’ out for that sort of thing.”
“My age! Look who’s talking, old man. Tell me something, when you were my age, had humans invented the wheel yet?”
“Nope, my generation skipped right past that and built spaceships. But we old types are willing to wait for you kids to grow into your brains and catch up.”
Seth laughed out loud. He couldn’t help it. Vig always knew how lighten him up. Seth hadn’t even realized he’d been tense, but his friend always seemed to be able to tell.
“So, how’re our passengers doing?” Seth asked. He hadn’t seen either Jonah or Iyanna for hours.
“I’m thinkin’ they’re doing just fine.” There was something mischievous in the way Vig said it.
“What aren’t you telling me, Vig?”
The engineer took a seat at his own console and began running a battery of standard system checks. “They’re good kids, Cap’n.”
“Yeah, I suppose so. They seem all right.”
“But they’re in trouble.” Vig didn’t look up from his screens.
“Everyone’s in trouble of one kind or another,” Seth replied. “What’s your point?”
“Hard to find good people these days, Cap’n. Gettin' harder all the time.”
Seth swiveled his chair so he was facing Vig. Seth may not have been able to read Vig as well as Vig could read him, but Seth knew the man well enough to know when something was on his mind. “I suppose. Still waiting for a point though.”
“Shame to lose two good ones when something might be done about it.”
“Get to it, Vig?”
Vig swiveled his own chair. “Maybe we should step up, Cap’n. Might be time.”
“Are you serious?” Seth didn’t know what else to say. He and Vig had spent years going to great lengths to avoid entanglements in other people’s problems. Everything was kept professional, distant, not involved. That’s how they lived and it had worked out pretty well. Maybe not recently, but still.
“Dead serious, Cap’n.”
“You want to risk our ship, our lives, to help those two? You don’t even know what kind of jam they’re in! And are you forgetting that we were saddled with both of them by the Legion? That alone is reason enough be rid of them as soon as possible.”
“I know, Cap’n. I know it makes no good sense. But I’ve just got this feelin’ that maybe it’s time we did something more than run. There always comes a point when you got to stop runnin’.”
“But why now? Why them? We do good things, Vig. We bring medicine to worlds that can’t get it. We bring people to where they can find honest work. We’ve even rescued aliens that didn’t do anything but have the misfortune to be born not human in a universe where that’s almost a crime.”
“Don’t say it like we do it for free, Cap’n. All those jobs paid. We didn’t do any of them just because we’re good people.”
“Well, I like the fact that we can get paid for doing good things. A person should get paid for doing what’s right. Seem
s only fair.” Seth calmed a bit, taking a few deep breaths before continuing.
“Look, Vig. I like them, too. Jonah seems like a fine young man and Iyanna, hell, if I had a daughter she’d probably be just like her given all the devil she’s got in her eyes. But what can we do? We’re one ship. You want we should fly guns blazing straight at the Judgment? I mean, I’d love to rip that stick out of that Admiral’s backside and beat her with it, but what chance would we have?”
“No much, I guess. But at least we could try.”
“No,” Seth said. “I’m sorry, but the answer’s no. I’m not sacrificing our lives for two people we barely know. It’s just not good business.”
“There was a time when we weren’t about business, Seth.” Vig hardly ever used Seth’s name. “You remember what it was like to have a real purpose?”
“That was a long time ago, Vig. Another life.”
“We used to serve a cause. We used to be about something.” Though Vig had rarely spoken of it, Seth knew the engineer missed his days in the Legion. Truth be told, so did Seth sometimes.
“Do you remember Vega-19, Seth?”
Seth did. Vega-19 had been a colony world that had been hit with a Vodule bio-weapon. The disease spread quickly, tens of thousands died. But a few hundred survived by securing themselves in a shelter equipped with air filters. The Vodule had blockaded local space intending to wait out the survivors. The filters weren’t of the highest quality and they soon began to fail.
Seth’s ship had been put in command of the rescue. Vig was chief engineer on a troop transport that was part of Seth’s mission group. Seth’s ship, along with three other attack craft, was to keep the Vodule busy while the transport picked up the surviving colonists.
Everything went according to plan, better in fact. The Vodule blockade had not been as strong as reported, consisting as it did of a single heavy gunship and a string of drones. Seth’s squadron destroyed the drones in short order and inflicted enough damage on the gunship that it chose to retreat rather than continue the fight.
Seth was able to land his ship and help with the evacuation. It was a memory that had seen him through many bad times. He’d not only won the battle, he’d done so for good reason. Watching those half-starved colonists make their way to the waiting transport was uplifting. There had been other times like that. They were the gems that Seth treasured, that made all the blood and fear and fighting worthwhile.
“That’s a low blow, Vig. It’s also not even remotely the same thing. There is absolutely no way I am going to agree to this. It isn’t going to happen.”
“Okay, Seth.” Vig rose to leave the bridge, but before he left he turned back to Seth and said, “Sometimes I miss doing the right thing.”
The bridge door closed leaving Seth alone with his thoughts and Vig’s final words. The two did not play well together in his head. ‘Sometimes,’ thought Seth. ‘I miss it too.’
But all he said out loud, as he realized what he was going to do, what he’d known he would do all along, was, “Shit.”
Chapter 7
She challenges Her children not to defeat them, but so that they may prevail.
-Book of Gifts (6-3)
Caller Teresk knew she was on dangerous ground, setting herself against Vashek yet again. Vashek was vastly intelligent, had access to massive resources both known and unknown, and was unquestionably insane. Vashek was not someone to challenge, especially when the one doing the challenging was the newest and least established member of the Council.
Teresk had been thirty-two years old when her mentor had officially designated her as his successor. Caller Sarthol had been among the first Callers to be granted functional immortality after it had been discovered that a sentient being’s consciousness could be quantum entangled with the Calling Tower’s matrix. At more than eight-hundred years old, Sarthol had chosen to retire from his life of service and allow his consciousness to merge with that of the Holy Mother.
Sarthol had taken Teresk under his wing when she was ten years of age. He had personally overseen her education and training, making her ready to take his place on the Council. When she’d asked, Sarthol had told her that he’d selected her as his successor because of a dream. It was a dream Sarthol had been having for more than a century before Teresk was born, and it was the same one she’d begun having shortly after her eighth birthday.
Her parents had taken her to a therapist, worried that the dream represented some kind of psychological disorder. The nature of the dream bordered on heresy. Had Teresk been older she might very well have been made to undergo psycho-neurological reprogramming. Fortunately the therapist had elected to follow a wait and see methodology on the premise that a child’s brain was still very plastic and could be damaged by the reprogramming process.
Somehow, Caller Sarthol had heard about her. He told her later that he had agents keeping an eye out for such things. Sarthol told her about his dream and she’d been shocked to find that it matched her own almost perfectly. Sarthol had seen to it that all record of Teresk’s therapy sessions was erased, especially those regarding the dream. But she’d continued to have the dream and, aside from Sarthol, she’d never again told anyone about it.
Teresk walked in a beautiful meadow full of lush, green grass. There was life everywhere. There was a tree in the middle of the meadow. The tree was straight, healthy, and full of leaves. Its roots went deep into the ground, branching into thousands shoots. In a flash of insight, Teresk knew that every blade of green grass was the terminus of one of those shoots. The entire meadow was one single living thing.
Teresk placed her hands against the bark of the tree, feeling its coolness against her palms. The tree welcomed her, sending waves of joy through her body. Tears flowed from her eyes. So absorbed in the sensation was Teresk that she failed to notice another person enter the meadow.
When she did notice the meadow’s other occupant, Teresk saw that it held something in its hands – an axe. The axe wielder stepped up to the tree, raised the axe, and struck. Teresk felt the tree, the entire meadow, cry out in pain. Teresk screamed in sympathetic agony.
The axe rose again. Teresk acted on pure instinct, throwing herself between the tree and the descending blade. It bit deeply into her flesh but she refused to move, to let the tree be harmed again. She grabbed the axe head and held it in her body.
The axe wielder tried to pull the blade free but Teresk would not let go. She felt her strength ebb as her blood spilled onto the soil. She tried so hard to hold on, but in the end her strength failed.
The axe tore loose from her flesh and the axe wielder kicked Teresk’s dying body out of the way. The axe rose up for another strike. The tree shook with the force of the blow, leaves turning brown and falling as the tree died. Sap ran freely from where the axe bit into the wood, mixing with Teresk’s own blood.
The tree groaned, cracked, and fell with a great and terrible noise. Teresk saw the entire field began to die, the grass turning black, flowers wilting, and bees falling from the air. It began to rain, but no water fell. The rain was red, and smelled of copper.
Teresk felt the blood rain wash over her. She looked up to see the face of the axe wielder and saw that it was Caller Vashek. Vashek’s mouth was open, laughing, a sound full of madness. Then Vashek looked down, straight into Teresk’s eyes.
“You can’t stop me.”
When she’d been young, Teresk had woken up screaming, Vashek’s words echoing in her ears. As an adult she no longer screamed out loud, but fear still gripped her heart and she woke up shaking. Sarthol had told her that the dream was a vision from the Holy Mother.
“Her words are not always easy to hear, my girl,” Sarthol said, his voice a comfort to her in those early days. “She speaks to the pure of heart and she selects her servants with great care. She has chosen you, my girl, to stand in Vashek’s way.”
Teresk had been afraid of having such a burden placed upon her shoulders. But she’d also been relieved that sh
e wasn’t insane, that the dream meant something. Her parents were of course honored to have their daughter trained as an assistant to a Caller. When Teresk had been designated as Sarthol’s successor her mother and father had been practically giddy with pride.
After Sarthol passed away all of his resources were transferred to Teresk. She had been waging a secret war against Vashek ever since. Most of that war had consisted of opposing Vashek in assemblies and deconstructing what portions of his vast network of agents she could dig out. She knew that such strategies were at best a delay in his plans, but it was all she could do.
Lately the dream had become more insistent again. Teresk feared that meant Vashek’s plans were coming to a head and that the Calling Tower, and perhaps all sentient life, was in imminent danger. Teresk had considered assassinating Vashek but what would be the point when a Caller could just return? Not to mention the fact that if she were to do such a drastic thing she would likely be the one facing true destruction at the hands of her fellow Callers. She knew what her mentor would say.
‘Have faith, my girl. The Holy Mother will guide you through the darkness. You need only take Her hand when it is offered.’
Teresk calmed her mind using techniques Sarthol had taught her. The old Caller had never been through the PoPros, the programs having only just been initiated by the time he’d been called to serve. But Sarthol had made a deep study of various ancient meditation techniques. In point of fact Sarthol had helped develop parts of the PoPros dealing with emotional control.
As her emotions settled, and she was able to put her fear away, Teresk began to analyze her options. There weren’t many, but she had faith. There must be a way to stop Vashek. The Holy Mother would show her. Teresk had to believe in that. There was no other choice.
◊
Vashek was not pleased. The private research facility he funded had just informed him that they were having trouble with the sample. Vashek had expended millions of credits to equip the facility, hire staff, and keep it a secret. The lab complex had one goal, and delays were not appreciated.