Penticore Prime

by Mark Chevalier

  “Is it headed for the Sun, for Eos?”

  “Yes, my son. Is it not a brilliant plan? When Penticore Prime and Eos are in the proper position, only the initial thrust will be required. After that, inertia will do the rest, sending all of it to Eos. It is a gift, for all that the Goddess has done for us. It honors her commandment that nothing made by our hands injure Penticore Prime. A small crater will be left behind, but planetary tectonics, and the great span of centuries, will erase that legacy.”

  “Wow,” Candor said, amazed.

  A chime sounded, and the photonic image disappeared, replaced by Dewass, avatar for the House of Nassvhedt.

  “I apologize for my interruption, Seiss Theniass.”

  “That’s quite all right, Dewass. What is it?”

  The avatar straightened his tunic, which was odd for a photonic projection. Centuries later he still questioned the lifelike vanity that the avatar’s exhibited. Amron does the same thing, he thought. Although at least now with Thalia and Thador in the manor, she wears clothes.

  “There is an urgent summons from Shajin Thalia, for Seiss Candor.”

  “Of course, send it through immediately,” replied Theniass.

  Dewass bowed, and a moment later Thalia’s image appeared.

  “What is it, etts imád?” Candor asked. Suddenly he sensed her pain and discomfort, even over the distance that separated them.

  “The birthing has begun, etts esstoné,” she replied. “Vesspa is coming. Please attend me.”

  Candor looked to Seiss Theniass, who only grinned with pride for his daughter. “I shall inform the family immediately.”

  “Seiss Sador isn’t here today. Where is he?”

  “He was called to a meeting with the Senedos Seiss, but don’t worry about that, my son. Go, attend your wife. We shall all meet you at the manor for this glorious occasion.”

  “I’m on my way, Thalia, with all due haste.”

  “Shajin Janesska is with me, and Jinx as well, so I am in good company. Zyphon is nearly here, but please hurry. I want our faces to be the first that our daughter sees upon entering this world.”

  Candor blew her a kiss, and then ran for the lift as fast as his legs would carry him. His smile grew as he made his way down the tower, his steps both light and exuberant.

  I’m about to be a father for a second time, he thought with a chuckle. First my bonding to Thalia, then the birth of our beloved Thador, and now beautiful Vesspa will join us. Blessings to you, Eos, he added in silent prayer. I shall never be more contented, than I am at this moment.

  Oh Future! Thou secreted peace

  Or subterranean woe –

  Is there no wandering route of grace

  That leads away from thee –

  No circuit sage of all the course

  Descried by cunning Men

  To balk thee of thy sacred Prey –

  Advancing to thy Den –

  ~

  So give me back to Death –

  The Death I never feared

  Except that it deprived of thee –

  And now, by Life deprived,

  In my own Grave I breathe

  And estimate its size –

  Its size is all that Hell can guess

  And all that Heaven was –

  Emily Dickinson

  1830-1886

  Nine

  Eleven years to send fifteen cities into the future, so it was agreed upon, nearly two-thousand years ago. And by contented repose, the centuries in-between have passed. For Candor, those times were full of love and laughter, overflowing with the joys of family and friends. Centuries made whole in the light of his work as a renowned tale-smith, and a Penticorian who was loved and adored by all. And yet even that was not enough for Candor Shuveen. For the son of Sador and Janesska, husband to Thalia, and father to Thador and Vesspa, was not satisfied.

  Many centuries ago, Candor accepted the position of Regent for the Out-World Faction. He was responsible to oversee the housing assignments for the citizens on all the ark-ships. And now, the time had arrived for the Out-World Faction to depart Penticore Prime forever. Candor was old now, and fortunately, two rejuvenations and three incarnations remained at his disposal. For the years that spanned between his last rejuvenation to the present, were kind to him. And much to the relief of his parents, he had never gone wind-surfing again.

  Yet, I shall need one or the other very soon, he thought, making his way to the departure ramp. His cane was held out before him, muting the throbbing pain in his hip.

  “Come, Father,” said Thador. Who stood to his left, his strong shoulder providing him with support. On his right, Thalia looped her arm in his, while Vesspa, who was a young and vibrant youth, held her mother’s hand. Thador was an honorable Penticorian, who even now was betrothed to the daughter of one of the Senedos Seiss. He was also a tale-smith, just like his father, and Candor was proud of his accomplishments, which in truth surpassed his own.

  “Father,” said Vesspa, with golden eyes just like that of her mother. “I don’t understand why you suffer needlessly in that body. We love you dearly, and it pains us to see you bearing such distress. Please, you know that I was trained by Seiss Zyphon, let me perform an incarnation.”

  “I know that you are more than capable, my beloved daughter. Seiss Zyphon has declared you to be the finest physician that he has ever taught.” He smiled then, remembering his father’s words to Seiss Theniass, so very long ago. He couldn’t help but to repeat them now as he declared. “These old bones and I have become close friends. I don’t believe that I’m ready to part with them just yet.”

  “You are, as you wish to be, my beloved husband,” Replied Thalia. She kissed him on the cheek and said. “And my love for thee is both eternal and patient, etts esstoné.”

  “I don’t know that I wish to be old, but I am old nonetheless. And my love and devotion to thee, etts imád, is without measure. However, I have the distinct impression that I shall join you soon.”

  Thalia was incarnated thirty years before, a necessity after suffering what humans classified as a sudden and fatal stroke. Her mind and body suffered paralysis, and she subsequently died. Zyphon presided over her, trying desperately to rejuvenate her, rather than perform an incarnation. Yet in the end there was no other option, and she was remade, just as her father and mother had been. Now she was young again, the beautiful vision of poise and grace that he remembered so well on the day of their bonding. And here he was, clinging to age with all the strength left in his tired limbs. There were many reasons for this, and Candor often thought about them. Yet for all the excuses he attempted to conjure in his mind, he had to admit that there was one predominant rationale.

  I’m afraid, he thought. Even after all these centuries, I’m terrified. I’m terrified that this body will die and that I shall not awaken as a Penticorian, but as a human, or something else entirely. And I just cannot bear the thought of being separated from this life. Even though I know that it is a foolish wish, for we all die eventually. Goddess, I pray you to forgive me of my vanity, and for the selfish devotion I have, to those that I love.

  Candor knew that it made no logical sense. Millions of citizens were incarnated over the centuries, including his mother and father, and Zyphon. All of them became as they were, and in that becoming, Candor earned mystical status. For the words that he uttered at the very first incarnation was now a central part of the ritual, a solemn prayer, spoken while the fadosh was transferred to its new body.

  “The old, and the new,” said Candor with a wistful smile. “And one must die, so that the other may be reborn.”

  “What did you say, Father?” Thador asked, helping him onto the transport that would take them to the western docking station.

  “It is nothing, my son. I was just revisiting some old memories that have become my friends. Please, proceed.”

  As they entered, some in the crowd recognized Candor, and bowed in a show of respect. He waved and smiled as they opened a
path for them, allowing him and his family private access. While Jinx, ever his friend and companion, walked before them. The simulacrum looked just as he always did, unchanged, even as the world around him evolved. Looking at Candor he frowned, and said. “If I may, Seiss Candor, I look forward to the day of your incarnation. I too would very much like to see you in good health once more.”

  “Oh really, and am I not in good health now? You know, being old is not a curse, my friend. Well, perhaps from your point of view it would be.”

  Jinx looked back and smiled with the mischievous grin he perfected over the centuries. “Indeed,” he said. “And were I to remind you of your remaining incarnations, I would entreat you to consider the wisdom of your daughter.”

  “Ah, but I do consider it, and carefully, my dear simulacrum. Not to worry, the time will come soon enough. And then we shall go wind-surfing together, isn’t that right, Jinx?!”

  Candor laughed at the joke, but Jinx did not, nor did anyone else for that matter.

  “Seiss Candor, I do not recommend that course of action. Remember that you can only be rejuvenated two more times.”

  “It’s a joke, Jinxy old boy,” Candor replied. “After all these centuries and I can still shake you up, simply priceless!”

  As the transport began moving, Candor found his mood turning grim as he considered what he was doing this day. I’m saying goodbye to my family, and a dear friend. Oh, how this old heart is breaking. I shall need a new one just to survive the separation.

  The transport was little more than a series of interconnected gray oblong pods that travelled along an overland track. Almost like a train, he thought, as he leaned heavily on his cane. Like a train without the smell of diesel fuel, and the clacking of steel wheels along the tracks.

  A transparent tunnel surrounded the magnetically driven track in case of an emergency. Yet that too was designed to be easily dismantled, and with little or no footprint remaining after The Exodus was completed. They rode in silence for the most part, with other exchanges amounting to idle chitchat. They all were feeling the same thing that Candor was. Of course, there would be many more launches to come. Yet this one was both the first, and most important, because this launch would separate their family forever. Leaving, was Theniass, Kythonia, Ghedron, and his wife, Aduaita. While along with them were Zyphon, and his wife Seleniss, and their two daughters, Ēosstre and Anuketss.

  Candor argued with both Theniass and Zyphon, beseeching them to go on the final launch. But Theniass insisted that they must be the first, and with good reason. Foremost of which, Theniass was successful in restricting the use of the Zesslock Healers, confining the weapon to the first two ships. It was that ark-ship’s responsibility to clear the way for the rest of their convoy. Theniass reasoned that if they were going to encounter a hostile alien species, then most likely it would be the first ark-ship that discovered them. Other reasons included his appointment as commander of the fleet, and his desire to be the first to reach Enos Penticoras.

  “We will need to survey and inspect the towers we constructed, and make certain that they are safe, and fully operational,” he told Candor. “But more than that, I will need Zyphon by my side. A physician of his skill will be invaluable in those first years.” Yet the final reason that Theniass gave him, was his wish not to prolong the inevitable. “If we are last, then it would only serve to dishearten the family. Shajin Kythonia and I believe that we must leave first. Even though you don’t see it now, my dear Candor, it is better to wound quickly and heal, than to leave the source of that pain in place. In the long run, the scars will take less time to fade.”

  Candor could see the truth of it, yet it didn’t change the fact that his family and friends were leaving forever. It left a fissure deep inside of him, a wound that he likened to a gaping hole; an injury that would never heal. Candor cursed Theniass for his wisdom, and had no alternative other than to concede that he made perfect sense. And here he was, on his way to wish them well, and watch them leave Penticore Prime.

  “You know,” he said to Thalia. “We may yet meet them again.”

  Thalia looked dubious. “And how would that be possible, my husband?”

  “The Senedos Penticoras decreed that there are no limits on the number of incarnations. When you have forever to live, does not time become a much smaller matter. Why, we could arrive in the future to find them already there waiting for us.”

  Thalia laughed softly and kissed him. “You are a tale-smith to the end, my husband, and an optimist as well.”

  “I’m just worried about you. Will you be all right, etts imád?”

  “Will you, etts esstoné? In truth, I’m more concerned for you than I am for myself. So, I would return your query, and ask if you will be all right?”

  “I suppose that I am just like you.”

  Thalia understood his meaning, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She kissed his neck, just as she had done so often throughout their life together. Candor was amazed that after centuries her kiss still made him tingle from his head to his toes.

  “Then no, my love,” she whispered in his ear. “I suppose that we both will not be, all right.”

  Candor hugged her tightly as he replied. “We will have each other, even though our beloved parents, and my dear friend are leaving. Please say that it is so.”

  Thalia cradled Candor in her arms, running the fingers of one youthful hand through his white hair. “It is so, my husband, it is so. We shall have Seiss Sador, and Shajin Janesska. And we shall be with our children, in our home here on Penticore Prime. Have no fear, my love, for I would cross the barriers of death itself to protect and comfort you. I know that you would do the same for your family.”

  The transport stopped at the departure station, and with heavy hearts, Candor and his family emerged. In front of them, the western ark-ship vaulted into the sky. It was a gleaming tower, overshadowing all but the towers of Eos from the city of Tulacoss. While above them, yet still over a mile distant, the silver clamp from the launch-t was locked onto the ship. The station itself was a marvel of engineering. It was a towering, twenty-storied enclosed structure with a transparent outer shell. A series of thirty walkways extended from the station to the ark-ship, and thousands of citizens were making their way inside, while several thousand others stood outside. Candor knew what they were doing, because he could see tears in so many eyes. He felt the sorrow as it hung in the air, as a multitude of family and friends said goodbye for the last time.

  During his tenure as Regent, Candor had even seen some defections. Citizens who changed their minds and wanted to stay on Penticore Prime, along with some who wanted to join the Out-World Faction. Although in truth, most of the petitions he heard were from those requesting to stay. In all, the Out-World Faction saw its ranks shrink by almost fifty-thousand citizens.

  And it helped, he thought. There were space and supply issues in the beginning. It’s going to be a long journey. At least now they have room to accommodate moderate population growth. In the cold vacuum of space, having young ones will ease the burden of the trip, and remind them of the value of life, and the need to protect and nourish it. Connection to family is so important.

  “This isn’t right!” He said in a fit of grief and anger, flailing his cane in front of him. “We should be one race, not two!”

  Thalia placed her hand on his shoulder to comfort him. “You are beginning to sound more and more like Seiss Sador, my husband.”

  “And he’s right! And this is not right!” Candor jabbed his cane toward the ark-ship.

  Thador could see his father’s hands trembling, and said. “They are waiting for us, Father.”

  Candor jerked his cane away in consternation. “Do not patronize me, my son! You are a fine Penticorian, and I have had the honor to be proud of both my children. But this, this is different!” Tears welled up in his eyes as he shook with unfettered emotions. “I grieve, my son! For I am losing some this day that are dear to me! And none have the
power to take it from me! I do not grieve for them, don’t you see? I grieve for myself, because I will miss them!”

  Tears rolled down his wrinkled cheeks, and he turned, watching as Thalia wiped at her eyes with a kerchief. It was a crimson scarf that she loosened from around her neck, and Candor thought that the color was apropos. Vesspa was weeping too, and Candor knew that for her, this loss was about more than just her grandparents. She was also grieving the loss of her teacher and mentor, Seiss Zyphon.

  Thador bowed his head in dismay, and his eyes misted over as he replied. “I am sorry, Father. I swear upon my life that I meant no offense.”

  Candor felt the strain of gripping his cane. It sapped the strength from his tired old body, and his shoulders sagged as his tears dotted the floor beneath his feet. “My son,” he said in a hoarse voice, one that was barely above a murmur. “You could not offend me if you tried. I love you, and I know that your only desire is to assist me. So, help me, help and old Seiss to say goodbye for the last time.”

  Thador nodded, and stepped forward to take his arm. Candor leaned into him, letting him ease the burden of walking, because he knew that he didn’t possess the strength to make it on his own. And there, at the appointed place at the top of the departure station, they all met. It was a grim and silent group that greeted them, with Seiss Sador, and Shajin Janesska, already present. Since his bonding to Thalia, they became very close, and his mother’s eyes were red from the tears she had already shed.