Zahn sidled around to the front of the house, opened the front door, and crept up to his room as quietly as possible. In a strange moment of nostalgia, he opened his pack and noticed that most of what he’d brought on his first journey was still inside, with a few new additions, such as his resonator pistol with the small lens still jammed into its aperture. The light blue towel at the bottom of the pack was certainly worse for wear, too. But otherwise, all he needed was some water and more food, which he quickly got from his chest and the nearby washroom.
As he put a couple of ripe purple avega fruits in a bag, he thought of his photodisc. He’d grown to miss it. Without it, he could no longer capture images of what he saw. Still, he didn’t regret that trade. The resonators had been vastly more useful.
He put on the silver uniform and boots that Oonak had given him, took a deep breath, and walked up to the front door.
Just before he opened it, his father walked up to him.
“Son, there’s something we need to talk about,” Vivek said. “And why are you wearing that uniform?”
Zahn sighed and turned around. “Sorry Dad, I’ve got to go. I’ll be back… later.”
“No, Zahn! It’s important. We need to discuss this now.”
A fire flashed behind Zahn’s eyes. “Asha told me what happened, Dad. I’ve been suspended from the observatory; and I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me the moment you found out. I’ll be back later; I’m going for a walk.”
Zahn opened the door and stormed down the path.
“I’m sorry, Zahn. We’ll try to talk with them!” Vivek called down to him. “I know we can’t tell them the whole story, but we’ll think of something.” He watched as Zahn slipped into the forest, ignoring the paths. “Zahn! Where are you going?”
But he had already disappeared. Within minutes, he found the shallow depression on the forest floor and felt for a certain spot until his hand stopped in midair.
There it was, the starship that had taken them halfway across the galaxy and back, and now he would set off on a new mission.
Alone.
CHAPTER 5
THE VAST EXPANSE OF OCEAN
For a few moments he felt around for the entrance pad until a triangular door appeared in midair over the forest floor. Zahn’s eyes still burned with determination as the door rolled open, revealing the pure inner light of the ship.
The details of his plan ran through his mind in a mad loop, and he squinted from the brightness as he stepped into the inner node, fantastic in its geometric perfection. All of the surfaces were crafted from a glowing, ivory-like material. Six interlocking triangles made up the walls surrounding him, and in the center of the room was a glowing sphere with colorless, braided cables that stretched up to each of the corners of the triangular ceiling.
Zahn took a quick glance to see if the Tulari was still safely nestled within the wire mesh of one of the cables. It was, and he walked over to the other end of the bizarre room, completely failing to notice that an odd little creature was perched atop one of the colorless cables that led into the glowing sphere.
When he placed his thumb beside the door, it split into three parts which pulled back, revealing a smaller room in which two outer walls sloped toward him until they reached their peak just over the door. Zahn walked to the center of the command bay and sat in a large chair with a transparent dome directly above it.
Ahead and somewhat lower down, he noticed the large, curving bench, and the emptiness of the room struck him. After sharing this room with Asha and Oonak for days on end, he realized that this might feel like a lonely trip. Good thing he had Navika to talk to.
“Navika, we’ve got to go. What’s your status?”
In the corner of the room, Zahn noticed that some of the floor panels were still removed.
But hadn’t Yantrik said he was nearly done with the repairs?
Zahn blinked a few times. Normally, Navika responded instantly through the mindcap interface. The dome above the chair created a powerful mental link, allowing them to have entire conversations in mere seconds, but he hadn’t said anything. Now that Zahn thought about it, he hadn’t heard Navika speak once since he’d entered the ship.
“Navika, are you all right? Status report.”
Silence.
Zahn rubbed his forehead. “What’s wrong?”
Farther down, beyond the passenger bench, he noticed that there was a small pile of seed husks in the far corner of the room.
Zahn didn’t have much time to think about this before the mindcap showed him that someone was approaching the ship. He saw it just beyond the edge of his vision, though in reality he wasn’t seeing it at all. The ship saw it for him.
The figure grew closer, and he was soon able to make out Asha’s face beyond the bunches of blue leaves. Somehow, she always managed to remember where the ship was hidden.
With a mere thought, Zahn flashed the ship’s walls to transparency, creating the illusion that he was sitting on a chair in the middle of the forest. Yet he knew quite well that just because he could see his surroundings through the ship’s hull, it did not mean those outside could see him.
“I’m sorry, Asha,” he said, and carefully moved the ship up into the air.
To be as quiet as possible, he didn’t push through the blue canopy yet. Instead, he glided over the forest path, trying in vain to avoid brushing the ferns and making noise.
Asha must have heard something, because her walk turned into a run.
Even though he knew she couldn’t see the ship, Zahn couldn’t deny the feeling of her gaze on the back of his head.
Did she sense where the ship was? Had her intuitive powers become that strong?
The feeling of her gaze on his back was tinged with regret and sadness, and Zahn froze.
“Zahn, is that you? Can you hear me? Zahn, if you’re taking Navika, you’re being reckless. I already felt for where the ship was. I know it’s gone. Please, don’t do this.”
He let out a heavy sigh. “I am haunted by the memory of a man who saved my life,” he whispered to himself, knowing full well that his words couldn’t be heard outside the ship. “I’m sorry Asha. I can’t lose you, too.”
Zahn sent the ship shooting up through the canopy of blue, creating loud rustling and snapping sounds for a few seconds before leaving Asha in relative silence.
He looked down as the forest canopy shrank below him. Above, he noticed patches of dark clouds heading his way. It would rain on Ashraya today. In the distance, he could see the radial pattern of Ashraya City and the observatory higher up atop a nearby ridge.
It struck Zahn that he had never seen Avani from orbit before. He had thought about it when he’d first met Oonak, but since they had used the gate on the southern pole, there had been no way to go into orbit.
As he gained altitude, he noticed that he could now see all ten islands of the Ashraya archipelago. Their intricate outlines had long been as familiar to him as the lines on the palm of his hand, but seeing them all at once filled him with awe.
The archipelago continued to shrink, and he was reminded just how isolated the islands were amidst the vast expanse of ocean around them, stretching out like an infinite blue plane until the curve of the planet became visible. He watched as the last traces of blue left the sky, revealing an infinite starscape.
He looked up and saw his sun, Kuvela-dipa, shining against the backdrop of stars. And below him, the entire planet seemed to radiate a light of its own, its distant continents skirting the edge of the planet’s disc. Perhaps he should visit them someday. Perhaps. He had trouble pulling his eyes away, but reminded himself that this was time-sensitive, after all. Right now, the mission took top priority.
He pushed Navika harder.
It was strange commanding the ship when it wouldn’t speak to him, but he had to leave the Avani system before they came after him. He imagined Yantrik with a look of disappointment on his face.
Yet their speed was tremendous. The indicator
just beyond the edge of his vision told him he was close. After a few seconds, he realized that he hadn’t chosen his destination yet, and searched the edges of his vision, where his speed was usually indicated. Normally, he would just picture his destination in his mind or speak it, but with Navika being so unresponsive, he didn’t feel good about trying that now. Last time he jumped without a destination, he ended up in the middle of nowhere.
He searched his thoughts until he noticed a tiny row of dots on the lower edge of his vision. When he focused on them, the dots grew in size, becoming a list of suns, planets, and other objects. He scanned through this list until he found a lifeless, graphite moon.
Behind him, he could hear the ship’s timespace drive begin to roar, and he took a deep breath. It was good to be back in the Ocean of Space.
The stars around the ship became warped and unreal, as if parts of the galaxy were somehow melting away. The roar grew, and Zahn watched as the sapphire world faded away behind him.
“If she thinks I’m blind, then I’ll just have to prove to her how much I can see.”
In his mind, he counted down. “Three…” He hoped he wouldn’t regret this. “Two…” But they wouldn’t have let him carry out this plan anyway. And it was certain to work. “One…” It was beautiful, really. It was elegant.
The roar resonated within his mind.
This was the moment.
Zahn saw the twisting vortex ahead of the ship, like a sphere of swirling stars, and when he dove in, a vision of pure radiance filled his mind.
A flash. Darkness.
Another flash. More darkness.
In the early days, the way the ship jumped between spacetime and timespace disoriented Zahn, but now it had become almost invigorating for him to watch, like a strobing meditation with the galaxy itself. This meditation only lasted a few seconds before he was back in spacetime once more.
Ahead, he could see a dim star in the distance, partially obscured by the curving silhouette of a massive object. He stared at it for a few moments before the ship overlaid markers and blue haloes around the most prominent objects, indicating that the expansive object was a gas giant surrounded by thousands of small asteroids.
As the ship drifted forward, Zahn summoned the location of Outpost 33, causing a red marker to appear in the darkness ahead. Through the mindcap, he saw an enhanced view of the outpost, appearing just as grey and lifeless as it had when he’d first seen it. Although now there was a cluster of debris in a wide orbit around it.
The planet behind it was truly colossal, filling up most of his view. From this angle, he admired the glowing haze of atmosphere around it, forming a striking silhouetted shape in red and golden hues, set against a backdrop of millions of stars.
The ship indicated that most of the asteroids in range were shaded by the planet, making them invisible to the eye. He could easily see the disk of asteroids, an uncountable collection of tiny objects, haloed in a blue light by the ship. And for the first time, he realized the truth of Outpost 33 and the asteroids nearby: they were all part of a vast planetary ring.
The sheer obviousness of it made him laugh as he admired the edge of the ring. How could he have not realized it the first time he was here? Then again, the marauders had made sure their arrival was free of any quiet reflection. When they’d first arrived they had been swarmed by their narrow, menacing shapes.
At the time, they had seemed more biological than metal, and later Yantrik confirmed their suspicions. They were a rare kind of spacefaring life form, and for them, starships were a good meal, which made life around the Outpost Ring a constant struggle.
“Navika, do you detect any marauder activity?”
He waited, but there was no response.
Something was clearly wrong. While he could control most functions of the ship without talking to Navika, some of the more complex operations, like finding the wormhole, were much easier if he could explain the problem to Navika and have him figure out the best way to solve it.
“Great. Why is it that things break just when I need them?”
Zahn got up and walked back into the central node of the ship. Nothing seemed unusual, and he walked under Navika’s nucleus and looked up. The sphere still hung about a meter above his head, and green and purple flecks of light spiraled within its shimmering core just as they always had. He studied the braided cables that led from the nucleus to each of the three corners of the ceiling, noticing something through a narrow gap in the cable mesh that simply shouldn’t have been there.
Perched high atop one of the braided cables was the odd, bird-like creature that the Amithya Council had given them on their last quest. Even though the jagrul would have only been considered a small bird on most worlds, Zahn knew better.
“Jagrul, down!” Zahn pointed to the floor, but it only stared back at him silently, its voluminous black pupils unwavering.
“Come on! What are you doing up there?”
It let out an angry squawk and ruffled its green and blue feathers at him. Yet despite its appearance, Zahn knew how exceptional this creature was. Just as the elevator back at the observatory didn’t belong to any single floor, the jagrul didn’t fully exist on any single level of reality, and without its help, they would have been truly lost during their last adventure.
“What’s wrong with you? Are you—” Zahn noticed a small hole beside where the cable entered the ceiling. It was just big enough for the creature to get through. “Oh, great. Have you been hiding in there? And where’s your food? We left a whole pile! I guess you eat faster than we thought. Sorry about that.”
Zahn disappeared into the command bay, returning with a seed packet. “Here,” he said as he emptied it out onto the floor.
The jagrul jumped down and munched on some of the seeds, and Zahn noticed that its legs were covered in a white powder. “You’ve been nibbling on the ship, haven’t you? But how? Navika’s hull is nigh indestructible! That’s why we were keeping you in here. Hold on.”
After walking back into the command bay to turn off the ship’s gravity, Zahn carefully pushed off from the floor and floated up to the ceiling where the jagrul had been. When he reached the top, he noticed that a small section of the ceiling had been removed. And inside, he saw a dizzying mess of pathways etched into a layer of crystal behind the ivory wall. At the far edge, thin wires all joined at one point which became one of the braided cables that led into Navika’s nucleus. He felt the thin pathways etched into the crystal with his fingertips; they felt cool to the touch. His hand followed the pathways to where they interfaced with the wire mesh and found two of them broken.
“Ack, jagrul! No wonder Navika can’t communicate with us! From now on, I’m feeding you regularly, and you aren’t leaving the ship until we can return you to the Amithyan Council. You’re too dangerous.”
Just as he was about to begin repairs, the glowing walls dimmed, and an alarm rang throughout the ship, shattering Zahn’s focus. He pushed himself downward, flying through the air toward the door pad.
The alarm grew louder. Without Navika’s voice, he couldn’t do much about it until he was in the command chair.
Finally, his hand touched the panel, and the door slid apart. He propelled himself forward again, flying toward the back of the command chair before grabbing onto the armrest and spinning himself around to sit down.
Once situated, the situation became simple. Overlaid on his vision were five red indicators, all emerging out from a single point, and Zahn directed the overlay system to hone in on the origin of the craft. At first he could find nothing unusual, but when he shifted beyond ultraviolet to gamma, he clearly saw the shape of a small vortex within the planet’s rings.
He almost asked Navika what the odds were of a second vortex in the area, but caught himself. Either Navika couldn’t hear him or wouldn’t respond. Zahn wasn’t sure which.
Yantrik only ever mentioned the marauders coming out of a single wormhole, so this must be it. Now was his chance. He knew w
hat he had to do, and he sped toward the vortex as fast as the impulse drive could take him. After all, this was what he’d come here for.
The marauders wouldn’t know what hit them.
CHAPTER 6
A SHEER CACOPHONOUS NOISE
Zahn took a deep breath.
The last time he jumped into a wormhole, his entire life had flashed before his eyes. He’d been convinced he had died. It wasn’t an experience he would ever forget.
The Tulari was still nestled within the braided cables of the central node, and he knew what it was capable of. The Tulari couldn’t help but seal up the wormhole. It was its purpose.
Zahn directed the ship to the center of the wormhole and pushed it to a fantastic speed.
Once again, the space around the ship stretched and twisted. The roar behind him grew louder.
He counted down again. “Three…” This was the moment. “Two…” Two birds with one stone. “One…”
His mind and the roar became one, and he studied the twisting wormhole ahead of the ship. Unblinking in his white-hot determination, he flew into the swirling sphere and vanished.
A sheer cacophonous noise erupted into his ears as his awareness touched the source of infinite light. Below him, he saw the wormhole fold up like a flower blooming in reverse.
At last, the wormhole was gone. The Tulari had patched the tear in space.
A perfect silence.
The silence had a peculiar nullifying quality to it that invaded his senses. He was so loved and so cherished, even if he didn’t consciously realize it. Everything he had done, self-serving and others-serving, brought him to this point. He found himself in the midst of a pristine immaculateness.
The music returned, music that he could never fully describe. He looked all around, floating in the midst of a pure brilliance.
“Tulari, are you there?” Zahn managed to say. “I guess I don’t remember how to—” He stopped. “What was I saying again?”
The Island on the Edge of Forever (The Epic of Aravinda Book 2) Page 4