by Jon Chaisson
Many of you know what those actions have entailed, and you question my motives. That is expected and accepted. These Mendaihu in particular are a band of Warriors of the One who mistakenly believe that I am here to destroy the One of All Sacred.
Again, nothing could be further from the truth! I do not wish to harm her at all. I have tremendous respect for her, for in her Ninth Embodiment, she has managed to spiritually awaken the entire planet! If only I were able to perform such a feat! I would like to meet her, and perhaps have a civilized conversation. I wish to work with her, not against her, but I must perform these senseless acts in order to prove that what they do is a great falsehood against the Goddess Herself!
Would I dare to question the actions of the Goddess? Would I dare to even contemplate working against her for my own benefit? Again, I would not. If the Goddess tells us that the Mendaihu are in fact the victors in this spiritual battle, then I must admit defeat — if there were a battle to be fought!
“Get the hell out of my head, you bastard!” Nick yelled. “Get out of my damned head!”
“Goddess,” Sheila said, grasping at his arm. “Easy, kid! Calm down!”
“Easy for you to say,” he growled through his clenched teeth.
“Slow down, for shit's sake!”
“No one's out here!” he said, flicking off the siren. “Or didn’t you notice that?”
Therefore, I am here to request that in a few days, I shall meet with the One of All Sacred, on neutral ground, as a gesture of peace and to show my willingness to hear what she has to say. I am certain that both sides will be victorious and that this coming month shall pass by peacefully, without any major uprising that is expected.
I am Saisshalé...and I am here to bring this world into a new form of Peace, Love and Light. May your Light ever shine on!
Goddess, the voice...it was breaking inside his head...it was shattering, its shards pushing deeper within his brain. Goddess, the pain...
“Get...” he growled. Get...out! NOW!
“Don't fight it,” Sheila warned. “It only makes it worse!”
...and so I await your answer, Dearest One. I wait patiently for your kind words, your knowledge, and your compassion. I am hoping that you understand my plea for this meeting of spirits. It is important that we meet and attempt a compromise, where the Shenaihu do not have to act out their aggressions in order to claim their rightful place, and the Mendaihu do not have to constantly keep an ever-watching eye over the world as they do now. This is a plea for Trust, Dearest One, and I hope you can hear it.
...and with that, Saisshalé departed.
Nick groaned as the throbbing in his skull faded. He exhaled again, wiping away the sweat from his face, and shook his head. He did not want to go through with that again. Not with anyone, not even the One herself. Not for a long time. He eased up on the acceleration and let the car coast back down to a normal speed.
He tapped on his epaulet comm and sent out a beacon. “ARU Branden Hill HQ, this is Slater...anyone there?”
Nothing, just static.
“Branden Hill HQ, this is Slater, requesting link.”
“Maybe they're...” Sheila started.
A voice on the car comm suddenly cut through the silence. “Slater, this is Cilla, maintain radio silence. I repeat, maintain radio silence. Come on home.”
“Receive,” he said quietly. “Slater out.” He tapped his comm back off and looked at Sheila. She looked confused, and a little afraid.
“What?” she said.
“Nothing,” he said, and turned back to the road. He took his time driving back to the Branden Hill Headquarters. He didn't want to think about anything that happened today, let alone talk about it to anyone, even Sheila. He didn't want to think about the consequences of what was about to unfold, now that Saisshalé had contacted the populace, as Nehalé had done. He didn't want to think about what Awakening ritual had just been performed, and who had just Awakened in the last twenty minutes.
All he wanted to do was go back to his apartment, call his family, and tell them that he loved them. He decided he would do that, first thing tomorrow morning.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Contact
“Denni…” Caren whispered. Her anger spilled out in the tears running down her face. “Den, I hope you know what you're getting into.”
This apartment had never felt so lonely, so desolate as it did right now. She was so certain Denni would have come running into the room, Amna in tow. She was certain Poe would have shown up any moment now, ready to drag her off to headquarters. She’d even expected Kai and Ashan to contact her — surely they’d heard and felt that as well? And Anando…where was he? And who else…Goddess, this was so much worse than Nehalé Usarai’s awakening ritual! Where the hell was everyone?
Those hazy thoughts hovered there in her brain, instincts telling her to roll over and go back to sleep. She'd had more than her share of grief already. She just wanted out. If it wasn't for Denni's involvement, she would have escaped Bridgetown weeks ago.
“Denni?” she called out. Then, from within: Denni? You here?
No answer. Again, this time throwing a thread of sensing in the direction of her room, but felt no one at all. She forced herself out of bed despite aching, exhausted limbs. “Den?” she called out. Nothing. She opened her door and glanced down the short hallway. Denni's bedroom door was open and the light was on. There it was, a tiny memory puddle, right in the frame. They’d just left, moments ago.
“Den?”
Nothing. She looked in.
The desk light was on, as was her radio, softly playing an ambient spacer instrumental. Denni’s bed was made, and the futon Amna had used was rolled and pushed up against the window, comforter, sheets and pillow folded neatly, one on top of the other.
“Denni!” she called out. Then, once again, from within: Denni! Can you hear me? Where are you?
She noticed, amid this uncharacteristically clean room, something out of place on Denni's desk. It was a single piece of paper. There were several scribbles and a few ink smudges on it, with the pen placed neatly on top. Denni rarely used paper and pen to leave a note for her…she’d always tapped out a message to her vidmat in the past. She’d taken the time to craft a pure note, one she could infuse with a wordless memory puddle of emotion if she chose to.
“Oh, Den...” she sobbed, smiling despite the heartbreak, and picked up the note. She shuddered as she felt the telltale energy, that love Denni held not as the One of All Sacred but as her sister. The love woven into the fibers of the paper, pouring themselves into Caren's fingertips.
Denysia… she whispered.
Hey Karinna, the note said. Sorry to take off so quickly. I know you heard our friend feeding us more propaganda. I know what he’s trying to do, and I need to stop him before he causes any more damage. And I'm not going alone. Amna is with me...don't worry, we'll be fine. We're meeting in nonspace — not mine, nor his. Somewhere where neither of us can do any harm to anyone. He's agreed to that. We’ll be safe.
You have to trust me, Karinna. I can do this.
I love you, sis. Thanks for everything. Think of me.
--Denysia
“Goddess...” she whispered, as the strength in her knees gave way. She dropped hard to the floor, still clutching the note tightly in her hands, staring at those words. Think of me. “Goddess!” she said again, catching her breath as she did so. She couldn't lose control, not now! To hell that the One was her younger sister, and her only surviving family member...she had to be strong! She had to —
chk chk chk-chk chk chk chk-chk
Her comm cut the silence like a shot blast. She yelped and fell sideways against the bed, twisting around towards the bedroom door. Poe! It had to be Poe. A sudden renewed burst of strength appeared out of nowhere and she leapt to her feet and dashed back to her own room. She momentarily forgot where she'd left the phone, and in a panic pulled her entire ARU uniform off the closet door hook, and began to r
ummage through its pockets before she heard it ring again.
chk chk chk-chk chk chk chk-chk
“Where the hell...” she glanced around, and found it on her own desk, placed neatly in front of her vidmat. Almost in the same exact location Denni had left her note. She tossed the uniform on her bed and grabbed the cell, activating it quickly.
“ARU, Johnson.”
“Is this emha Johnson?” the caller said, and her heart sank a little again. It wasn't Poe, and it wasn't an ARU officer. “Nyhnd’aladh. I was given this number, and I want to make sure I have the correct person. This is Caren Johnson, ARU Branden Hill?” The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it. It was an older man with a soft, lower baritone voice. Calm, amiable.
“Yes, speaking. Can I help you?”
“Excellent! Actually, I can help you, emha Johnson. I have information that you might want to hear, especially at this juncture.”
Caren frowned. “Who is this?”
The man chuckled softly. “Oh — how rude of me. This is Councillor Kelley James. I believe you have been trying to get an audience with me over the past few weeks. I’m afraid I’ve been somewhat distracted with other issues and only now have been able to reconnect with the world, as it were. And considering the situation, I suggest we meet as soon as possible. Is it possible for you to make it to Sachers Island within the next hour or so? I can meet you at the Nulltech Museum on Chilton Boulevard. If that's a problem...”
“Thank you for contacting me, sir! Consider it done,” she said quickly, barely masking her excitement. She edged back to her bed and started preparing her uniform. “If I-91 isn’t a parking lot, I'll meet you within the hour.” She paused, looking around the room for her clock radio. “What the hell time is it, anyway?”
“Nearing four o'clock, I believe,” he said.
“Damn,” she said. “I just went to bed two hours ago. No worries, sir. I shall be there. And thank you for calling back, I truly appreciate it.”
“Thank you, emha. I'll be waiting.”
She hung up the phone, and stopped for a moment. She looked down at her uniform. She had only gotten the pants on and was about to pull the blouse on, with the bulky coat over it, when it dawned on her: I don't need this. Not where I'm going. She hastily pulled the pants back off, ran into the closet, and pulled out her well-worn brown duster, which she wore over a pair of jeans and a faded black tee shirt. She retied her hair into a tight knot and threw a ball cap over it. She took her badge from her uniform, fastened it to a chain, and hung it around her neck.
She was close to the front door when she stopped.
Denni. She turned back around, skipped back into her sister's room, and left a note.
Denysia--hey kid, she wrote, infusing as much love as she could into that small scrap of paper.
Had to go out myself...finally heard from Councillor James! Going to go pick his brain and get answers.
Don't you worry, sis. I trust you to the ends of the earth. And I think about you always. But I can still kick your ass if you step out of line, kiddo. Remember that.
Love you too. Take care of yourself. I should be back by midmorning.
–Karinna
And with that, she left the apartment, and headed towards the basement garage. She hadn’t used her motorbike since the first ritual, weeks ago. She hoped she'd remembered to charge up the fuel cells, because this was going to be one hell of a ride.
She pulled up to the front of the Nulltech Museum just a little before five and parked the motorcycle up on the sidewalk, close to the front stairway. There were no other vehicles parked on the street, and there was no traffic anywhere in the area. This was troubling…Sachers Island was a quiet haven for the rich and the powerful, situated in the wide mouth of the Sachers River, but there was always someone going somewhere, even here at this time of morning. In fact, nearly all the streets of Bridgetown had been quiet and close to empty, South City being the exception.
South City...everything seemed to start there, and it looked as though Saisshalé's base of operations had been Nulltech Alley after all. Which meant that Sheila's misgivings about her visit with Kindeiya Shalei were on the mark. Caren had chosen to take the I-91 Freeway rather than Krieger Avenue or South Main Street to cross over to the island, and even then she was lucky to make it through the sector without delay. She’d entered the sector just as Saisshalé's Awakened had started making their way there. The nearly empty freeway was suddenly jammed with cars, trucks and even motorcycles, all trying to get off at the Bridgetown Parkway exit, to head towards Nulltech Alley. Only her badge and her stubborn will kept her going.
Nulltech Alley didn't have warehouse blocks like the Waterfront District. If there was going to be a meeting place like the warehouse for the Shenaihu, it would have to be one of the massive tech plants or the corporate office towers. They'd have better accommodations, that was certain. But geographically, they'd be further away from most of the city. The Waterfront was accessible from almost all points in the Sprawl. On the other hand, South City was a condensed, elitist sector with too few outlets into other areas, except for Sachers Island and the lesser South Bridgetown sectors across the river.
She switched from her helmet back to her ball cap and climbed the Museum's stairs. A chilly October air pushed at her face. She pulled the duster's collar over her neck as she stood between the marble columns framing the entryway. She'd seen the Councillor only on vidmat or on the NewsComm feeds, never in person. She judged him to be about five foot eleven…he had shaggy, dusty-blonde hair, usually tied back in a loose tail, and lately had the makings of a goatee. He wore small, silver-rimmed glasses that were slightly tinted. She didn't know his build, or how he'd be dressing for this questionable occasion. Thankfully, she only had to wait a few minutes before he arrived, popping out from the predawn shadows.
“Emha Johnson,” she heard from below, just beyond her parked bike. His voice barely crossed the ten or so yards between them. “Down here, if you please.” He was wearing a dark leather coat and had a ball cap on backwards, his unruly hair pushed behind his face. He waved quickly and furtively.
“Councillor?” she said, not daring to raise her voice. She frowned, watching his quick, twitchy movements as he walked slowly towards her bike. He looked nervous and desperate. She bound down the steps. “Coming, sir,” she replied. “We going somewhere?”
He nodded quickly, waving for her to get back on the bike. She eyed him for a moment before doing so, curious and wary. What did he have in mind? He climbed on as she started it up and coasted off the sidewalk. “Head down Chilton, away from the bridges,” he said over her shoulder. “And keep the lights off.”
She flipped up the visor of her helmet and glared at him. “Are we really that desperate to break laws this morning, sir?”
He laughed at her bravado. “Have faith, emha. Please, indulge me.”
“Fine,” she growled. “Hang on.” Kicking the bike into gear, she peeled out onto the empty morning boulevard and sped west. The stoplights were all blinking red and yellow at this point in the day, so she could get away with blowing through a few intersections if they were lucky.
“Where to?” she called out over the wind.
Lorenson Peak Drive, he said within.
She shivered…his innerspeak voice caused an unintended reaction, a full-body sensation of two people who had just sensed each other’s entire beings. She had just read his spirit without meaning to, and he had left it wide open. Bravely, perhaps brazenly, he had built no barriers, no walls of protection around his essence, daring anyone to get that close to him. She blushed deeply...but at the same time, she had felt that strange synesthetic reaction, of feeling his aura as a scent...a strange mix of cinnamon crossed with patchouli. Where had she sensed that before...?
“Just down here,” he said quickly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw his hand reach out and point to a side street off to the right, a wide residential street that broke off of Chilton Boul
evard. The avenue dropped slightly in an s-curve, then rose again on a long straightaway for nearly a mile and a half. This was Lorenson Peak, the westernmost summit of Sachers Island, and one of the most expensive places to live in the entire Sprawl. To her right, a jumble of trees served as camouflage for the first of many mansions she would pass. After about a quarter mile the trees gave way to untamed grass as the road crested. They were now at the top of a grand mountain that looked out over the mansions below, the river, and the most glorious view of the city she'd ever seen since going up to the Crest.
“Eyes on the road, emha,” the Councillor laughed.
“Sir,” she smirked, and rode on. “We almost there?”
“A few more blocks. At the next intersection, take another right and follow the road all the way to the bottom of the hill.”
She nodded and followed his directions. This avenue took a very lazy curve, almost a complete one-eighty, as it descended closer to the water's edge. This was a hidden community in itself, a tiny area in a cove less than a mile long. She could see the road ahead, stretching all the way to the waterline. Very few lights were on in this little area, except for one house that stood apart from the others, standing on a slight hill and overlooking the river.
“That's it,” he said. “The one with the lights.”
“Yours?” she asked.
“Me?” he chuckled. “No, that’s a bit out of my price range. I’ve been using it for business. Used to belong to a Councillor friend of mine.”
She blinked. Vigil. No way. Couldn't be.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Bann Dassah
He'd forgotten how disorienting Lightwalking could be.
Wherever Elder Nayélha was taking him, the destination was not local. They'd been floating somewhere in nonspace for at least five minutes when he regained his bearings again. Commercial travel through Light was like any other near-Earth and sublight interstellar travel, enclosed in a long tube-like structure, cut off from nearly all external frames of reference, with your experience limited to turbulence, a slight change in gravity, and a sensation of displacement. Traveling through the Light using only your spirit, on the other hand…