by Dana Kelly
Where the crystalline horizons converged, a single point exploded into a varicolored, glowing maelstrom, and the vessel plunged into it. She crossed through the nightmare gate and emerged on the other side. Scarlet gases and spectral lampreys clung to her hull only for as long as it took to complete the transition back into primary space.
Within Reggie’s quarters, lights flickered on, and a cheerful alarm echoed from his nightstand. Yawning, stretching, he quickly dressed, scarfed down a meal bar, and drained a water pouch. He emerged from his cabin, boarded the lift, and joined Ellylle on the bridge.
She studied a crudely modeled image of a planet.
“Guessing you don’t sleep,” he said.
“This is frustrating,” said Ellylle. Her branches jostled as if stirred by powerful gusts, and all her flowers bloomed bright red. “I can only get details on one meridian. Nothing else is coming in. These can’t be the only population centers, so clearly something’s interfering with my sensor transmitters.”
Reggie crossed his arms. “Your sensor transmitters, huh?”
She pivoted to regard him flatly. “For as much as I’ve paid you, you could purchase two Old Siberians, brand new!”
He leaned over the curved railing. “Yeah, and thank you, but that’s still my name on the pink slip, you get me?”
Her branches stilled for a moment, swaying gently as her flowers bloomed dark crimson. “Yes, your name is still on the pink slip. Bearing that in mind, Captain Yao, something on the surface is interfering with the ship’s sensors. What would you suggest we do about it?”
“Wait for Zella,” said Reggie. “She’s my hacker.”
Ellylle curved from one side to the next before slowly straightening. “So you’ve said. Certainly, she’s quite competent at navigating the console’s basic interface, and an expert at using the document search function.”
“I’d say sarcasm doesn’t look good on you, except for all the purple you’re wearing right now,” said Reggie.
Ellylle held his gaze. After a moment, she stepped away from the console and approached the starboard bulkhead. Pointedly, she switched off her vocoder and stood awhile, rustling to herself. Reggie shook his head and took his seat in the captain’s chair.
The lift chimed, and the doors opened. Zella and Lomomu stepped onto the bridge. The planetary display drew Zella’s attention. “Whit’s this?”
“Trying to get a read on the population centers,” said Reggie. “All we’re getting is this one ring around the poles. Ellylle thinks we’re being jammed.”
Zella tilted her head slightly. “This far out? ‘At’s nae likely.” She studied the sensor configuration file. “No offense Cap’n, but ye’re doin it all wrong. Trionides is a t-net hub. The people runnin the data exchange are nae goin tae leave thaur rackhouses exposed.”
Ellylle switched on her vocoder. “Which means what, exactly?”
“Ye havtae adjust fir the radio-absorptive material.” After adding several commands, Zella saved the file and ran it again. A minute passed, and data points swarmed across the planet’s eastern hemisphere. “Aim fir the spaces betwixt the structures.”
Ellylle moved to stand at Zella’s side. “You’re inferring data from the voids.”
“Aye, like a stencil,” said Zella.
“Right. A stencil.” Ellylle spun the image slowly around. “Is this correct—the population centers only exist along the prime meridian? I assume that’s the prime meridian.”
“In a sense,” said Zella. “Trionides is whit’s known as an eyeball planet; she’s tidally locked with her star. It’s swelterin on the light side and baltic on the dark side. However, right in between, well thaur’s yer habitable zone.”
“No one lives in all these other buildings?” asked Ellyle.
Zella zoomed in on a coastal section of the eastern hemisphere. “Ah suppose thaur might be a handful o’ skeleton crews that work the data centers, but I doubt anyone calls those buildings home. Baltic, remember?”
Ellylle crossed her branches, and her flowers bloomed purple. “I can’t wait to read the Ocean Health Index.”
“I don’t think it’s goin’ to make you very happy,” said Lomomu.
“That was the point,” said Ellylle.
“Well, you aren’t exactly easy to read,” said Lomomu. “I don’t speak tree, and your vocoder is light on inflection.” He absently tugged at his fur coat. “What are you so interested in, anyway?”
“I need to speak with someone,” said Ellylle. “A certain Florin Blösch.”
“Who’s that?” asked Reggie.
“He’s the planet’s parliamentary lord,” said Ellylle. “Zella. Locate him for me, will you?”
“Aye. Fine,” said Zella, and she sighed.
“No chance you’re sharing the why of it, is there?” asked Reggie.
“I’ll tell you what you need to know when you need to know it,” said Ellylle.
After completing her research, Zella indicated the northern magnetic pole. “He’s thaur, in Edenbridge Palace, smack dab in the middle o’ Sunset Beach. We’ll need tae hunt around fir it when we get thaur, but A’d be shocked if it was hard tae find.”
“Good.” Ellylle’s branches slowly rustled. “What’s our ETA?”
Reggie studied the navigation display. “Assuming we refuel at the station, we could push it to sublight-15 and get there in… five days?”
“No, please conserve fuel,” said Ellylle.
He performed some calculations. “In that case, fourteen days at sublight-5.4.”
Ellylle bowed forward slightly. “That’s much more reasonable, and slow enough to use matter scoops along the way. Please do so.”
“Hey, we aren’t new at this,” said Lomomu.
Ellylle straightened. “That’s not what I’m implying. Lately, you and your captain prefer to spend where you can save, and that’s going to draw unwanted attention. I won’t let either of you put my mission at risk because of your spending habits.”
“Implying what?” asked Reggie.
Ellylle’s flowers bloomed orange. “I’ll remain in my quarters for the duration of the journey. Don’t disturb me, even when we arrive.”
◆◆◆
Two weeks later, Reggie, Lomomu, and Zella sat at their bridge stations, chatting lightheartedly. Trionides twinkled on the viewscreen, cloud-spangled and wreathed in navigation data. On the planet's sunward hemisphere, deep canyons and barren, windswept spires covered the surface of a rocky supercontinent.
Where light faded into twilit beaches, a vast metropolis glowed within the mantle of a perpetual sunset, stretching from pole to pole and back around again. Beyond the city shores, an immense dark ocean spread out across the eastern hemisphere, sheltering a thousand island cities, their walls drenched by slowly rolling waves. Scattered red warning lamps blinked in the night.
Orbiting the habitable zone, a single space station traced the ring of twilight. It continuously skirted the bright and dark sides of the planet. As snowy white as Old Siberian, three rings surrounded her cylindrical axle, joined to the decks by dozens of spokes.
As Old Siberian’s crew discussed possible activities and leisure destinations aboard the station, Ellylle appeared on the bridge. “Just in time to help us decide on our first stop,” said Reggie. “Sun Circus's Flow, or an enchanted evening at the Magic Fortress. Both can be found on the central ring.”
“Don’t be juvenile,” said Ellylle. “We have a very small window of time to accomplish what we’re here to do. Take fifteen minutes to get ready and meet me in the shuttle hangar.”
Reggie swiveled in his chair. “Conservation was the standing order, just two weeks ago. Seems you were implying we ought to do a better job of blending in, too. Taking those things into consideration, wouldn’t it make more sense to do a little shopping, take in a show, play a few hands, and fly the municipal skies, like normal folk?”
“Don’t be thickheaded,” said Ellylle. “Mobility is key, and you don’t ne
ed to worry about blending in if you never set foot in the crowd in the first place.” She glanced at the console’s clock display. “You have fifteen minutes,” she said, and she boarded the lift.
Zella waited until the doors closed and the lift descended. “Whit a surprise—Lady Greensleeves woke up on the wrong end o’ the vide again. I swaur she seems tae get nastier an nastier with each day ‘at passes.”
“I bet she misses the sun,” said Lomomu. “She runs some pretty serious stuff in her quarters, but it’s gotta feel like junk food after a while. Even such fine folk as us could be a little cranky if all we ate was cheeseburgers and fries.”
Reggie smiled. “Your compassion knows no bounds. She ever tell either of you what we’re doing here or why she’s so interested in meeting with Lord Blösch? I get she’s a prime minister and all, so it’s within her wheelhouse to meet with other politicians, but Trionides is pretty far off the beaten path, even for her.”
Lomomu shook his head. “Nothin’.”
Zella got to her feet and stretched. “Nae word one tae me either.”
Reggie drew a deep breath. “All right then. Guess it’ll be a surprise for all of us. Let’s grab our gear and get down there. Hate to keep Ellylle waiting.”
◆◆◆
With a sonic boom, they plunged through the northern sky. Lomomu signed off with landing control, and as flames roared around the outer hull, he programmed the shuttle’s autopilot. In time, the fires subsided, and they dove below the clouds.
An endless beachfront city zipped by, a dizzying collage of scattered neon signs, LED billboards, and aesthetic holography that illuminated the dusky skyline. To their right, waves crashed against the shore. To their left, soaring city walls flew by in a blur of solar panels and power plants.
Zella reviewed the navigation display. “We should be gettin close. Another ten minutes, tops.”
“How far is the starport from Edenbridge Palace?” asked Ellylle.
“Nearly adjacent,” said Zella.
“But it’s a big starport,” said Lomomu. “Dependin’ on where we set down, it could be a ten-minute walk, or a ten-minute cab ride.”
“I see. Do what you can to touch down closer, will you?” asked Ellylle.
“It isn’t up to me,” said Lomomu. “They follow a certain protocol, and that’s all there is to it.”
Ellylle slowly, gracefully shook her head. “You’re right, of course. Next time seek local political favor before negotiating with landing control. You wasted two weeks on the bridge, all of you.”
“Transport crew, remember?” said Reggie. “Plus, spending two weeks chatting up politicians for a better parking space seems like the real waste of time to me. Seeing as how you’re the savvy one, maybe you should’ve made some timelier recommendations instead of holing up in your quarters.”
“I’m making recommendations, now,” said Ellylle. “I expect you to adhere to them from this point forth.”
Reggie smiled thinly. “Roger that.”
In time, they touched down on a well-lit circular tarmac. Wind whistled across the hull. A nearby trio of lights switched from blue to red, and an instant later, all the lane lamps bathed the rugged old shuttle in crimson illumination.
“We got lucky,” said Lomomu. “We’re definitely within walkin’ distance.”
Ellylle rustled quietly. “Only a moron relies on luck and brags about it afterward.”
“This’ll be fun,” said Zella. “Do ye make friends everywhaur ye go?”
“You’re clearly the brains of this operation. Don’t cheapen yourself with sarcasm.” Ellylle straightened and shared a mysterious smile. “You should be running your own fleet. Perhaps one day you will.”
As Zella prepared her retort, Reggie seated a gentle hand upon her shoulder and shook his head. “Not worth it. You’d be yelling at the wall.”
“Aye, Cap'n,” said Zella. “Let’s go, then.”
Quickly, they gathered their things and descended to the lower deck, where they exited the starboard airlock. Howling winds blustered against them as the crew secured their jackets. Ellylle followed the signs pointing toward Edenbridge Palace, and the others kept up, albeit several paces behind.
Crossing inside, they navigated the starport’s well-lit interior. They passed empty waste receptacles, shuttered coffee kiosks, and closed snack shacks. The air felt pleasantly cool, the tile floors looked pristine, and every metal surface gleamed. From a nearby maintenance bay, an automated floor sweeper suddenly zipped into view. It followed the crew, slowly zigging and zagging as it scrubbed away every footfall.
Before long, they stepped out onto the sidewalk, into the embrace of the gusty eventide. Neon signs hung high in the air, and although cars lined the sidewalks, trash lingered between flat tires, and none of them had license plates. Dark alleys separated boarded up warehouses covered in graffiti, yet everything looked clean and well-maintained.
“Feels like a movie set,” said Reggie. “It’s lunch hour, according to local time. Where is everybody?”
“Fir the record, Ah dinnae care fir this place,” said Zella. “It’s givin me the boak. How many people live haur, anyway?”
“The population index said twenty thousand,” said Lomomu. “But it hasn’t been updated since it was colonized, so I figured it was a mistake.” Winds whipped his fur. “Maybe not, though. Maybe no one else came over.”
They continued on in silence, until they stood before a grand, marble overpass. “The palace is just up ahead,” said Ellylle, and she led them along the bridge.
Descending toward a circular maze of buildings and sidewalks, they at last encountered signs of life. Cars moved here and there. A bus rumbled and pulled away. Hand-in-hand, a couple hurried through an obtrusive holographic woman, playfully dancing as she thrust something bright pink and cylindrical toward them.
Standing nearby with three other women, a pale stranger approached the group. Her metallic purple eye shadow glinted in the lamplight, and the wind hardly disturbed her bright-red waterfall perm. Dressed in a trench coat and high heels, she spoke just loud enough to be heard. “Haven't seen you around, before. You looking for a good time?”
“Appreciate the offer, but you aren’t my type,” said Reggie.
Not missing a beat, she shifted her attention to Lomomu. “I’d love to make you squeal. How about it, big boy?”
Lomomu cleared his throat. “No thanks, miss. I mean, you’re pretty and all, but it’d just be bad for future business. Like the sayin’ goes: once you go sude, you want no other dude.”
“I know where we can spend an hour finding out if it’s true.” She ran her fingers through the supple fur on his head.
“Thanks, but… no thanks,” said Lomomu.
“Ah dinnae want whit ye’re sellin either,” said Zella, and she offered a friendly smile. “Just savin ye some time.”
The stranger smiled back, but her eyes carried a deep and distant sadness. “I’ll be right here. If you change your mind, I’m always here.”
They made their way along the streets to the palace gates, where a dozen ceremonially dressed guards stood at the ready. Manning the security booth, a sharply dressed officer stepped close and discussed with Ellylle in hushed tones. Reggie, Zella, and Lomomu gawked at the beauty of the capitol.
A tessellated drive surrounded a grand fountain. At its heart, a statue of an equestrian hero reared back, pouring water from a pair of vases. Placed amidst topiary gardens that framed the palace's front entrance walkway, a half dozen other statues accented the manicured grounds. The palace’s marble edifice stood three stories tall, and towers capped the sunward and seaward wings. Hanging over the entrance, a vaulted balcony rose above the rooftop.
With a nod, the officer returned to his booth and the gates glided open. As Reggie, Lomomu, and Zella followed Ellylle, the guardsman moved to stop the crew. “Just her," said the officer. “You lot better find something else to do for a few hours. You might consider paying a visit to o
ne of our many fine information centers.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Reggie, as Ellylle passed through, and the gates slid closed. He gestured for his comrades to follow. Heading back out into town, they soon spotted a cylindrical stall topped with a conical roof. It bore a signboard that read, “Information,” and they gathered round its columns of screens.
“As I live and breathe,” said a voice far in the distance. “Reginald Yao, is that you?”
Surprised, Reggie spun around to regard the person who addressed him. A grin dawned slowly across his face. “Nate?”
“I’ll be,” said Nathaniel. Tall, strong, broad-shouldered, with sideburns and a barrel chest, he wore a beat cop’s uniform and a constable’s cap. His cigarette glowed as he took a long pull and slowly loosed a cloud of blue smoke. He wore gloves, and his long coat billowed in the wind.
“When did you start impersonating a police officer?” asked Reggie.
With a hearty laugh, Nathaniel set his cigarette down on the inside ledge of a periodical dispenser, and the two quickly embraced. “It’s Constable Knox, and I go by Nathaniel these days. I’d appreciate it if you toe the line.”.
“Oh yessir, Constable, sir!” Reggie exaggerated a salute.
Nathaniel affectionately squeezed Reggie’s shoulder and regarded the others. “My eyes must be playing tricks on me. Isabella, is that you?”
“Hello, Nate.” Zella waved, and she smiled.
“The Isabella McMasters,” said Nathaniel. “When the hell did you grow up?”
“Ah guess it’s been a wee bit,” said Zella.
“Wow! You’re...” Nathaniel shook his head, astonished. “Look at you! You were just a kid when I saw you last.”
“It was ma high school graduation, ye auld bawheid.” She swatted his arm. “And ‘at was twelve yaurs ago!”
“Damn, I got old,” said Nathaniel, and he nodded at Reggie. “How’d this dope ever con you into following him around?”
Zella chuckled dryly. “He promised me one day we’d find an even bigger dope and look! Haur ye are.”