by Chad R. Odom
Called and Qualified
The reunited family lived as if no one else existed. Wherever Oryan went, Asher was with him. Oryan was almost as eager to know him as he was to know his father. Oryan walked with Asher to the small school each day. He also took Asher on long walks, letting him do all the talking. When the boy would tire, a loving father placed him on his shoulders and carried him so as not to lose even a second with his son. So much time had already been lost.
Oryan’s wolf, who Corvus brought to the camp after Oryan arrived, had become Asher’s unofficial protector and fast friend. It was Asher who finally settled on the name Shadow for the beast after Celeste remarked that it followed Oryan “like his shadow.” The animal went with them everywhere and slept outside the boy’s door content to be nowhere else. Shadow was very gentle with Asher even when they played.
Celeste knew before he ever arrived that she would take a back seat to Oryan and Asher. For the most part, she observed, filling Oryan in on small details, such as meal times, activity schedules, and other specifics of the boy’s routine. More than anything, she watched for signs that things weren’t going well. Her life, especially the last eighteen months, had made her very protective of Asher. In many ways, Oryan was a stranger. She had to be sure.
Oryan quietly shut the door to the bedroom he’d laid Asher in before sitting at the table with Celeste. “I can’t get over how smart he is,” Oryan said to her. Asher had fallen asleep shortly after the sun disappeared behind the mountains.
“He’s your son,” replied Celeste. She picked up a piece of fruit and took a bite. The sweet flavor filled her mouth, and she closed her eyes to greet it. Her shoulders relaxed as she exhaled and leaned back in the soft chair.
Oryan was captivated by her beauty. Her hair lay perfectly against her bronze skin and the silken white gown she wore in the evenings. He plucked several grapes from their stems. “True, but I don’t think he gets that from me,” he replied smiling.
Celeste opened her eyes ever so slightly to meet his. “Well, I happen to think that his father is very smart. After all, he did choose the perfect mother.”
Oryan rolled his eyes, finished his grapes and then folded his arms. “I guess you’re right. I’m a genius.”
She gave him an incredulous look. “Let’s not get carried away. I just said you have excellent taste in women.”
Before Oryan could reply, a soft chime announced someone at their home. They both looked at each other curiously, and Oryan shrugged his shoulders and rose to answer the visitor. Celeste searched his bare chest with her eyes. She remembered the scar he carried from the Quarter, but now it was accompanied by many others. As he turned his back to her, she saw the familiar tattoo, but she focused on the scars that dotted his muscular frame.
With a wave of his hand, the door slid quietly open. The face he saw shot mixed feelings of gratitude and dread through his body. He fell into a state of awkward silence.
After a few moments, the visitor spoke. “May I come in?”
“Yes, please come in,” he replied still somewhat dazed.
Celeste rose from the table to meet their guest. “Sicari,” she said smiling. “Would you like something to eat or drink?”
“Yes please,” he replied with a returned smile.
“Great. Oryan, get the man something to drink.” She smirked at him.
“Or what?” Oryan joked back.
“You remember that time you got your ass kicked?”
“No,” he shook his head.
“This will be worse.”
He laughed and grabbed the bowl of fruit while Celeste brought glasses with a delightful orange drink that Oryan had given up trying to identify. She gestured for Sicari to take a seat and then sat on the sofa opposite him, tugging at Oryan to join her.
Sicari grabbed his glass and took a healthy drink. He wore a loose-fitting, white shirt with black trim and elegant cuffs near the wrist. A gray belt was at his waist followed by white pants of the same material and design of his shirt. He held the glass near his face for several moments, swirling the drink as he thoughtfully peered into the liquid.
His jaw set and he swallowed hard. Finally, he turned his gaze to the couple and quietly placed the drink on the table. “I’m glad to see you so happy,” he said looking at Celeste. “Time…Time and war has a way of...changing a man. I always hoped he would be the same way you remembered.”
Celeste looked up at Oryan. “He’s put on a few pounds.”
He narrowed his eyes and nodded. “It’s all muscle.”
The smile faded from Sicari’s face. He looked back at the floor and rubbed his hands together slowly. “I wish I was here tonight for anything other than business. I wish I was here for any business other than what’s at hand,” he trailed off and became very still.
“Oryan, there’s a decision to be made now. It’s not one to be made alone. Understand that your choice won’t affect your status here with us nor will anyone think less of you. Just hear me out and think about what I’m about to tell you.
“You were so far gone that we had to provide something you wanted more than the life you were leading. That’s why we saved her. It all sounds shallow now and selfish when put so bluntly, but I’m sure the two of you already knew.”
Oryan and Celeste sat in silence. It was true, they did know, but they were past caring what his reasons were.
“We also needed to make sure…” He paused searching for the right words. “We needed to make sure you were ready. That’s why she was such a fortunate find. She brings out the best in you.
“I knew your father just as I knew your grandfather and his father and his father going back…a long time,” Sicari said with a slight smirk.
Celeste gave a slightly confused look.
“I know. I don’t look my age, but I promise I’m thousands of your years old.”
Oryan held his peace and did not react to the farfetched declaration. Like her husband, Celeste wasn’t inclined to believe him. The claim was so outrageous, she looked at him like a crazy old man.
“I know how that sounds,” Sicari said. “But, I swear, it’s the truth.
“Armay was an Arkon—a hunter. Most Arkons live here but he was unique. His military service and your mother seemed to split his attention but he used his position to advance his post here as well. Because he didn’t stay with us, we became accustomed to communication gaps from him, so when he didn’t report in when we expected, we didn’t think anything of it. By the time we realized what danger he was in, he was already dead.”
There was a long pause. Oryan’s mind was flooded with sweet memories of his father. Sicari recalled the long hours of heartfelt conversation and the gritty times in which he saved the life of his friend and vice-versa. Celeste watched the two men closely, feeling the loss of a man she had never known.
“I can’t bring him back but I can show you what made him who he was. There’s so much he didn’t tell you.”
“What’s the catch?” Celeste asked. “There has to be a catch or you would have told him already.”
“What I can show you puts you and your family at risk from a man whose wrath is like nothing you’ve ever known. There’s a good possibility you’ll never be safe again.”
Oryan looked at Celeste with concern-filled eyes. His family was restored and he didn’t want to chance losing them again but he wanted to know about what secrets Armay was keeping.
“How long will I be gone?” Oryan asked Sicari.
“Not long,” Sicari replied.
“You have to go,” Celeste told Oryan. “But I…”
With a wave of her hand, she cut him off and reminded him of their reality. “You can’t guarantee our safety no matter what you do. One of us needs to be able to tell Asher what made his grandparents who they were. I won’t get that chance, so you have to take it.”
She was a marvel. Beautiful and strong. Oryan felt his fears wane and his courage renew. Words from her were all the motivation
he ever needed. “When?” he asked.
“Right now, if you’re willing,” Sicari informed.
Oryan kissed her on the forehead then went to Asher’s room and did the same to his sleeping son.
***
Celeste watched them leave. Sicari had sent Oryan ahead with Corvus while he stayed with her. He assured her Oryan would be back soon.
Sicari had been gentle and reassuring, letting her know that all would be cleared up soon enough. He gave her time to ask questions and he answered the ones he could. She was very clever and he knew it, so he guarded his answers carefully.
When Sicari finally left, she walked silently into Asher’s room, crawled into bed with him, and watched his peaceful face. She reached a hand to his face and gently tucked a few strands of white hair behind his ear. His skin was soft and clear. He bore neither scars of worldly anxiety nor lines from age and stress.
As she thought on her situation and the last few words of Sicari, her heart felt uneasy. There was something about Sicari that she hadn’t felt before. He seemed genuine. He was, as he always had been, cordial, pleasant, and caring. Why this feeling of doubt was gripping her, she couldn’t understand.
She tried to force it down. As she stared at her son, she remembered all the things the Archides had done for her since she came here. She would be dead without them and so would Asher. This place, this whole scenario, seemed too good to be true.
The real difficulty was, who to take her concerns to. Sicari and Corvus were too directly involved. Oryan was already wrestling with the same things she was. She didn’t want to burden him further especially when it was nothing more than a feeling.
She watched Asher’s chest rise and fall gently. He was such a blessing. He deserved a place like this and all it had to offer. Not just some vague idea of calm and normalcy, but the reality of it. If she was going to stay, she needed to put these feelings of doubt to bed.
In the morning, she would go back to the only man she felt she could openly discuss this with. Hopefully, as he always had in the past, Eldar would know what to do.
Archides, Agryphim and the War
Corvus led Oryan down a few paths, finally ending at a door carefully carved into the rock wall. Corvus placed his hands on the door for a moment, waiting for some sign Oryan couldn’t hear or see. After a moment, he pushed against the door, which slid backward and then into the rock.
As the pair entered the room, the lights slowly grew brighter. Before long, the intricate details could be clearly distinguished. It was a simple room with a domed ceiling about twenty feet above them. The walls and floor were smooth rock but had no decorations or other distinguishing features.
“So, how’s your stay so far?” Corvus inquired jovially.
“Perfect,” Oryan replied thinking on Asher and Celeste.
“Is that compliments of the surroundings or the company?”
Oryan smiled again. “A little of both.”
Corvus seemed pleased. “Sicari has a way about him, doesn’t he? In a way, he pulls potential out of others, but it’s more like he allows the person to see the potential in themselves. It’s a rare gift.
“He sees something in you.” Corvus faced Oryan and his features became deathly serious. His deep eyes became intense as reservoirs of emotion filled them. There was a hint of sadness, but it seemed that another feeling permeated his features: doubt. “Whatever it is he sees, for all our sakes, I hope he’s right. Otherwise, the fate Armay suffered will be a paradise by comparison to what we have coming.
“Your father was a good man and I thought of him that way, so don’t take what I’m about to say personally. As good of a man as he was, he was a failure. He was too soft. He worried too much about the trivial and it made him weak.”
Oryan didn’t take the remark to heart but he was curious. This was the first time anyone had spoken ill of Armay. “By ‘the trivial’ I assume you mean my mother?”
“And you. Understand, love is essential to what we do, but the love has to be for everyone in the camp, and ultimately, in the world. To let everyone else down because you can’t see past one person is selfish, and it nearly cost us everything.
“You suffer from the same disease, and you have no idea what you’re getting into. I just don’t see how Sicari thinks this is a recipe for success.”
Oryan was trying to think of a response suited to a man that had a whole lot longer to weigh this out than he did. So intent was the pair on the conversation they did not notice the door slide open and Sicari step through it.
“Despair leaves no room for hope, Corvus. I don’t know what the answer is, but if I have to choose between despair and hope…” Sicari paused as he let that statement hang in the air.
“There’s a lot we haven’t told you, Oryan,” Sicari continued. “How he kept everything from you is beyond me. Your father, I mean. I suppose, he knew it was safer for you not to know.”
After a few quiet moments of reflection, Oryan replied, “Or maybe he knew I’d find out on my own and it would be worth more to me that way than having it spoon fed to me.”
Corvus sat up in his chair. Maybe there was more to this kid than he originally thought. He was young, yes; arrogant, no question, but there was a wisdom there that defied his years. Sicari shot him a glance as if to say, “I told you so.” Corvus was moved but held tightly to his reservations.
“Well, it’s time you make that decision on your own.” Sicari spoke as he walked to the center of the floor. Like the conductor of an orchestra, Sicari stood still and raised his hands from his waist. The lights dimmed until the trio was left in complete darkness. Oryan waved his hand in front of his eyes. He could feel it brush his nose, but he could see nothing.
Just as abruptly as the room went black, it roared to life. Oryan was suddenly in a completely white void. He squinted at the contrast. The walls were gone as were the floor and ceiling. In all directions was boundless nothing. Sicari and Corvus seemed to be floating. Oryan looked at his own feet, shocked immediately that it looked as though there was nothing below them either. He could feel the wall behind him with his hands but to his eyes, there was simply nothing there.
“We call this place the Oracle,” Sicari said, bringing Oryan back to reality. “A somewhat deceiving name as most oracles are known by their ability to tell the future, whereas this only shows you the past.
“The Oracle is one of the very few technologies that remain from Andromeda.
“Each person willing to keep their own history carried their own personal record on a data vault called a scroll. It recorded everything from physical details to conversations, places they visited, everything. It was a complete recording of everything.”
“All voluntary, of course,” Corvus chimed in. “Should you want to omit certain details, perhaps not record more…private events, you could simply turn the scroll off or delete portions later.”
Sicari picked up again. “So, our history, while far more detailed than any other, is still incomplete. So long as people have the freedom to choose, there will be things they’re not proud of or simply things they don’t want others to know. Regardless, it’s as perfect of a record-keeping system as anyone could ask for.
“The Oracle is the way to immerse a person in these memories. They could use an Oracle to see their own record, review a crime, scrutinize a decision, and so on.”
Oryan took an uneasy step forward before he gave a Sicari a look of complete confusion.
Corvus chuckled. “Looks like we got ahead of ourselves. Yes, same room. Let’s change things up, shall we?
“Oracle: give us a…oh, let’s see…grassy field. Nice day.”
The white disappeared. They stood in a serene field. Grass spread under Oryan’s feet in all directions, and a clear blue sky met the green meadow somewhere against the horizon. Some large white clouds lazily drifted far above them. With a look of shock on his face, Oryan reached down and touched the grass with his hand. Not only could he feel it, but he c
ould smell it as well. He turned his focus to what he could hear and realized he could hear the sound of birds, and insects, and a gentle breeze.
“How?” was the only word he could think of.
“Everything you see and taste and touch every day is comprised of electrical impulses sent from your body and decoded by your brain,” Corvus explained. “The Oracle simply forces those impulses to behave a certain way. In effect, it overrides your natural senses and forces your brain to interpret what it wants you to see. It floods this room with those signals, allowing all of us to experience the same thing at the same time.
“We can upload schematics from any building and it will render it here for us. Most of our missions are worked and reworked dozens of times here before we ever put them into action. Similarly, the Oracle can also render a person for us whom we have not met.”
“This in incredible,” Oryan laughed in disbelief. “I can’t believe I’m still in the room.”
“Therein lies one of the dangers of the Oracle,” Corvus explained. “More than one person has squandered their lives in an Oracle. This place becomes more real than reality.”
“It does have limitations,” Sicari added. “It can’t stimulate emotion. Emotions are a matter of perspective and unique to every person. Emotions aren’t tangible. They aren’t interpreted by the basic five senses, so the Oracle can’t duplicate them.”
Oryan was listening but still feeling the room around him trying to force his own mind to see through the signals being sent to him from the Oracle. However this machine actually worked, it was marvelous.
Corvus continued, “The Oracle is also designed to predict a person’s reactions or choices to circumstances based on its knowledge of that person. It could probably predict me or Sicari down to the last detail as our personal scrolls are very extensive. Conversely, while it could perfectly duplicate you physically down to the smallest imperfection, it doesn’t ‘know’ you and therefore it can’t work out how you would respond to a hypothetical situation.”