by Oumar Dieng
“This is outrageous,” a voice sounded from the seated delegations.
“Who would question my decision?” the King asked.
“It is I, Battu, son of Dagrof, former king of Centaura. The punishment for blasphemy is death, is it not?” Battu asked.
“As king, I can pass judgment on matters of state, but I also have the power to grant clemency to lessen the punishment for any crime,” Naffore deflected, “and as my first order of business as your new king, that is my decision, and it is final!”
“My father would have never allowed such a blasphemous behavior to go unpunished,” Battu said. “First you give shelter to the tukikat, and now you let her disrespect our traditions?”
“Enough!” Naffore said. “You are a guest in my home, and as such you will respect my decision!”
Dagrof, the former king, intervened. “Your Majesty, forgive this intrusion from my son. As a courtesy to an outgoing king, please forgive his behavior. My son means well, but he can be impulsive.”
“Very well,” Naffore acquiesced. “As for you,” he turned to Yakhar, “get her out of my sight!”
Suddenly a thundering explosion resounded in the back of the auditorium. The crowd shouted in disarray. Decorations fell from the side walls and the ceiling onto the crowd below.
11
The Traveler
My legs felt like rubber; the tremors traveled through the ground and knocked me off my feet, along with several other spectators. The King mobilized the guards and ordered them to protect the people. He then turned to Yakhar. “Go to the control room. Make sure the city is safe. Take her with you,” the King said, pointing at me.
I followed Yakhar into the control room, where several boards were lit up, alarms blaring. Several Admenian scientists monitored the various instruments in the room.
“What happened?” Yakhar asked the lead scientist.
“It’s an earthquake, Your Highness,” he responded.
“Another one?” Yakhar asked.
“Yes. More severe this time.”
“How’s the shield?”
“We had a few hits from rocks falling off the surface cliffs,” the lead scientist said, “but the shield deflected them successfully.”
“Damage report?”
“Dome integrity is holding. We had minor breaches on the lower levels and the secondary transport tubes.”
“Seal the city’s sub levels and the tubes, and dispatch a unit to inspect them.”
“Very well, Your Highness. But we have another problem.” The scientist projected the screen to the center of the room. He selected a section of the map and moved his hands apart, zooming in. “Here, someone disabled the alarm in the armory.”
“Are you sure?” Yakhar asked.
“Yes.”
“Was anything taken?”
“Yes, the Light of Bakkul is missing.”
“Send word to my father, right away,” Yakhar said.
A guard walked in. “Your Highness,” he said, “the King sent me to escort the tukikat to the landing platform.”
“The tukikat has a name,” Yakhar said. “You will address her as Sali.”
“Sorry, Your Highness,” the guard said.
“Have people in the auditorium been evacuated?” Yakhar asked the guard.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“And the delegations?”
“They already left.”
“I will come with you to see her off,” Yakhar said to the guard. He then spoke to me. “I am sorry I was not able to convince my father to let you stay in Admenia, Sali”
“Thank you for trying,” I said. “At least now I can focus on finding my father. The Centaurans have been calling me tukikat; what does that mean?” I asked.
“It’s a word from an ancient Centauran dialect. It refers to people who were not born on Centaura.”
“Wait, so have there been others besides my father and me?” I asked.
“Yes. In our history, there have been reports of people coming in through the wormholes from other worlds. We called them travelers.”
“That gives me hope that my mom is somewhere on Centaura,” I said.
“Your mom?” Yakhar asked.
“Yes. She went through a wormhole too, long before us. Back on Earth, my father and I were looking for answers and accidentally ended up here.”
“Earth?” Yakhar said, pensive. “There is a reference to Earth in our ancient texts. When the first travelers came to Centaura, we sent probes through the wormhole and learned about your Earth. We called it Danaya.”
“OK,” I said. “That’s encouraging news! It means my mom likely survived the journey, and she is not the first to do it.”
The landing platform was in the lower levels of the city. It was located in a subterranean hangar where dozens of submersible vehicles were neatly parked. The submersibles had the same design as the transports used inside the dome by Admenians. There was no visible propulsion system, nor any signs of carbon-emitting engines.
Surprisingly, only a handful of staff attended to the submersibles. A couple of engineers watched over the projected displays that showed the location on a map of all the aircraft that were in operation. One of the staff communicated with an outside vessel and cleared it for approach. With a couple of taps on the projected screen, he lowered the gate. The deep ocean was visible right in front of us, held at bay by a protective energy barrier. The vessel traversed the barrier’s threshold and floated in past the gate, which closed promptly behind it. The ship hovered over one of several independent landing zones and gently came to a stop. The top half of the vessel was made of a shock-resistant glass alloy; we could see the pilot through the glass as he landed.
“Prepare a vessel for the surface,” Yakhar ordered.
The engineer activated a giant mechanical crane that emerged from the wall and grabbed one of the parked submersibles from the top, like the fingers of a player holding a giant bowling ball. The crane placed the vessel at the center of the three concentric circles that demarked the landing zone.
Yakhar walked up to the wall and pressed it. He retrieved a hexagonal bag with thin shoulder straps and handed it to me. “This contains everything you will need, including a medical kit and a weapon.” I grabbed the bag but Yakhar held on to it. He stepped closer to me and leaned in slowly. Our foreheads nearly touched. He held my forearm, gently. “I have never met anyone like you,” he said.
I smiled. “Thank you for everything you did for me. You literally saved my life.”
“As did you,” he said. “It was my honor to have been of assistance to you.”
“Well, I guess this is goodbye.” I turned around and walked toward the submersible. The Admenian pilot was already in the vessel waiting for me. I took my time. With every step, I hoped that something miraculous would happen. Yakhar seemed to care for me, and I was warming up to the idea of being around him.
“Wait!” Yakhar said. He rushed over to the submersible. He ordered the pilot to get out and took his place, despite the pilot’s pleas.
“You are coming?” I said excitedly.
“Yes. It makes no logical sense to let you go alone. Besides, you saved my life.”
Yakhar sat next to me. He lowered a lever, the door sealed shut, and a harness dropped from atop the seat, over our shoulders, securing us in place. Yakhar waved his hand over the console and, with a few taps, the vessel hovered over the platform.
Soon we were in open waters. The sea was dark; it would have been hard to see had it not been for the bright lights of the vessel.
Yakhar handed me a thin transparent wristband. “You need to put this on before we reach the surface.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Centaurans are acclimated to pressures at these depths. However, your physiology isn’t the same. This will protect you from decompression sickness.”
The wristband dissolved into my skin right before my eyes. “Wow, that is pretty cool. I wonder what it would be like going to the
dentist here.”
My attempt at humor went over Yakhar’s head. “The dentist?” he asked.
“Never mind. Just a silly Earth joke. Did you manage to learn anything about where my father is?”
“No. I am afraid I did not get a chance to ask. I would suggest that we check where you last saw him.”
The vessel breached the water surface. Yakhar tapped the console, and suddenly the glass top of the submersible retracted into the bottom half of the vessel. It turned the submersible into an amphibian vehicle.
“Have you always had technology this advanced?” I asked.
“Yes. Seyamon technology is only rivaled by the Akamon.”
“Who are they?”
“People from the fifth kingdom. They live in an airborne city.”
“Seriously, a floating city? I would love to see that.”
“Perhaps you will.” He added, “But the Akamon are very leery of anyone other than their kind. Only the Council knows where their city is at any given time.”
“Who are the other races?” I asked. “I hadn’t seen them until the crowning.”
Yakhar explained that each of the delegations represented one of the five kingdoms in Centaura. “Long ago,” he said, “when our ancestors first came to Centaura, resources were scarce. There was a daily struggle to survive. Infighting broke out for the limited resources on the planet. The situation was untenable. Because the five kingdoms were so busy waging war, they couldn’t focus on building anything sustainable.
“One day, after a bloody battle between the two strongest armies of Centaura, most of the population was annihilated. The generals of each of the kingdoms met. They agreed to sign an armistice and unify the five kingdoms into one.”
“Five kingdoms, one destiny?” I said.
“Yes. That’s when the collective unifying philosophy of one kingdom was drafted,” he confirmed. “But the kingdoms knew they needed more than just a phrase to unite them; they needed a governing body whose decisions would be respected and upheld by all. They created a council comprised of the wisest people, one from each of the five kingdoms. With that, the Council of Elders was founded. The Council enacted several fundamental laws that govern Centaura today. Chief among them was that every one of the five kingdoms would have a chance to rule Centaura for three cycles. The ruling kingdom had the responsibility of ruling and protecting the people of Centaura.”
“What are the five kingdoms?”
“You’ve met my people, the Seyamon, but there are also the Vacamon, the people of the former king Dagrof. Their physiology makes them resistant to high heat. They live near the volcanoes of Centaura, which is where their cities are. The Teramon are cave and valley dwellers; they are a strong people. The Garabon live in a symbiotic relationship with the forests. Physically they are the least strong of us, but they are very skilled in using nature for medicinal purposes. Finally, the fifth race, the Akamon, who live on a floating city. They are technologically advanced, and although they cannot fly, they combine technology and their ability to adjust their bodies’ molecular structure to achieve flight.”
12
The Crystal Necklace
The vehicle hit the beach. Yakhar adapted it for land travel: four side panels opened revealing four metallic all-terrain tires. We drove inland to the Caves of Akhmore, where I had left Dad. We quickly realized that Dad was no longer inside the cave. Yakhar determined from the tracks around the caves that the Vacamon had rescued Dad.
“These are domesticated fire hound tracks alongside those of Vacamon guards.”
“I thought it was strictly forbidden for anyone to enter the caves without permission from the Teramon?" I recalled.
"Indeed," Yakhar acquiesced. "The Teramon would consider Battu’s actions a blatant disregard of their sovereignty. This is very unusual."
“We are going to the Vacamon homeland, then. Can we trust the Vacamon?” I asked.
“Dagrof had his shortcomings, but he was an honorable king. We should be able to reason with him.”
We arrived at Paakon, the capital city of the Vacamon kingdom, and made our way through the town’s narrow streets down to the market. The city was sweltering, but the Vacamon strived in the heat, whereas Yakhar and I were struggling with it.
“If my father is here, he is not going to do well with the heat in his condition.”
We headed for the main compound where Dagrof lived. Our presence in the city did not go unnoticed; we decided to park the vehicle at the entrance of a bazar, a sort of alien flea market where all types of merchandise were traded. A group of workers, primarily Vacamon complemented by workers from other kingdoms, unloaded crates of food from chariots and large animals that reminded me of mastodons.
As we crossed the crowded market, I stayed vigilant, looking for any signs of Dad. Suddenly I recognized Dad’s shirt moving a short distance from us. “Dad!” I yelled. But he kept moving. I ran to within a short distance and called again. This time, the man turned and took off running.
I pursued him through the market. He ran through the stalls, knocking over displays and crates in his wake. The man finally ended up on a dead-end street. It was a Vacamon who wore Dad’s shirt.
“Where did you get that shirt?” I asked in a threatening voice.
Without saying a word, the Vacamon swung his fist. I ducked, and kicked him against the wall. Right then Yakhar arrived and pointed his weapon at the Vacamon. He surrendered.
“That is my father’s shirt. The only way he could have gotten it is if he was with him.”
The Vacamon was afraid to talk. Yakhar reassured him that he was not in trouble and that no harm would come to him if he told us what he knew. The Vacamon told us that he got the shirt from one of the guards who returned from an excursion with Battu.
“We must talk with Dagrof, at once,” Yakhar said.
We walked into Dagrof’s compound escorted by a couple of Vacamon guards. Yakhar explained the situation to Dagrof. We showed him Dad’s shirt. Dagrof swore that he didn’t know where Dad was. He offered to do whatever was in his power to help. In light of the situation, he ordered a search of the compound.
“Search everywhere, including the royal compound,” Dagrof ordered.
Battu voiced his opposition to the search firmly. “We should not allow a mere traveler to disrupt our lives,” Battu said. “For all you know, he is languishing in the Caves of Akhmore.”
“How do you know that he was in the Caves of Akhmore?” I asked.
“You do not get to question me, tukikat,” Battu responded.
“That is a fair question,” Yakhar said. “How did you know?”
Dagrof turned to his son. “Do you know anything about the disappearance of the male traveler?”
A guard came into the room. “We found the traveler,” he announced.
“Bring him in,” Dagrof ordered. Two guards brought Dad in. His head was down, and he was in bad shape, barely conscious.
“What did you do to him, you monsters!” I yelled, lunging forward in the direction of Battu. Yakhar held me back.
“I assure you,” Dagrof said, “I was not aware of his presence here.” He turned to the guards. “Where did you find him?”
“In the underground cells of the compound.”
“Who ordered you to put him there?”
The guards remained quiet, fear visible on their faces.
“Speak or suffer the consequences!” Dagrof said.
The guards stayed quiet.
“I did,” Battu said. “The Seyamon do not deserve to lead Centaura,” Battu added. “They allow travelers to come to our cities and insult our traditions, starting with these two travelers. When the Teramon sent word to inform you that they found an injured traveler …”
“Word?” Dagrof interrupted. “I’ve heard of no such thing. Why was I not made aware of this?”
“Because many within the troops share my views, and like me, they believe you have become a complacent leader.”
> “Son, you are out of line!”
“Out of line? I have languished under your shadow for all these cycles, waiting for you to grow a spine, you foolish old Vacamon,” Battu voiced in rage.
“Hold your treasonous tongue, or I will have you arrested!”
“I would like to see you try!”
“Guards, seize my son!”
Battu extended his arms, palms forward, fingers bent halfway. Two guards who stood guard on either side of Dagrof pulled their weapons and rushed toward Battu. The latter, arms still extended, with his head down, looked like he was in a trance. He stood at six feet five inches and had defined muscles. His body had a thick layer of skin that made him even more resilient.
For a split second, I saw an aura of dark energy wrapped around his upper body. The first two guards that approached him fell like toothpicks, with a single punch from Battu. The remaining two guards who were holding Dad dropped him and set off their weapons. Battu flexed his left arm and shielded his face. The fiery projectiles from the guards’ weapons hit dead center and blew up on Battu’s face.
After the smoke cleared, Battu was still standing. He looked up, his eyes glowed red; then they turned black. His arms and face were smoldering from the fiery impact. But that did not seem to faze him. He grabbed a guard by the neck with one hand. With one swift motion, he tossed the guard against another, sending them crashing into the wall. Then he turned his attention toward Yakhar and me.
Yakhar activated his shield and stepped forward. “Stay behind me,” he said.
Battu jumped in the air and landed on Yakhar, who raised his shield to parry the repetitive hits. He then countered with several shots from his weapon. Pushed back, Battu extended his arms again.
This time, I saw it clearly; the blurry, shadowy figure hovered over him. His muscles tightened, bulged, and expanded. He rolled his shoulders back and looked up with the same fiery eyes and determination to kill. He stepped forward and punched right through Yakhar’s shield, and he fell a dozen feet away.
Then he came for me. I raised my fists in a defensive position.