by S. G. Basu
“Who are you?” he asked in a broken voice.
He was an old man, tears streaming down his face and along his long, white beard. His bald head shone with perspiration, his lips quivered, and his faded blue eyes looked piteous and sad.
“Have you brought it back? Please, oh please tell me you brought it back,” he said, sobbing.
“Who are you?” Dani asked as she kneeled next to him.
“You’re one of them, one from the Seas. You‘ve come to punish me for the danger I’ve brought on your people.” He broke into violent wails after staring at Dani for a long while. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened. I felt sleepy, and when I woke . . . it was gone. For fourteen years, I was its keeper, and now I have lost it.”
“We’re not here to punish you. We want to help,” Kusha said, settling down beside Dani. “What’s gone?”
“The key is gone. The Chrysocolla Key of the Water Territories,” he said in a strange, cold voice. “I, Agotiias, have failed you, girl from the Seas. The keep has been compromised.” He moaned loudly, burying his head between his knees, starting to sob once more.
“What does this key do?” Dani nudged the weeping man. She had paled considerably since his last words.
Agotiias stared at Dani with dazed eyes and slowly shook his head. “I cannot tell you that . . . they . . . I cannot, I need to leave.” He ran a nervous palm over his tear-streaked face. He almost crumpled back to the floor as he got to his feet hastily, then balanced himself and wobbled toward the entrance. He was at the door when he stopped and turned around.
“Amends . . . need to make amends,” he whispered.
Maia thought she saw a momentary gleam in his dull, glazed eyes.
“I shall tell you, girl from the Seas. It’s one of the Morpher keys for the Tyrillic Stabilator, one that controls the flow of energy to the Jjordic colonies.” Agotiias spewed out one strange and difficult-sounding name after another. “And it’s gone . . . stolen.”
“Warn your people, girl from the Seas, warn them,” he said before tottering out of the room.
They sat there in silence, looking at the floor and the walls, and at each other until Dani yelped.
“Stolen? Why would anyone want to steal the key?”
Obviously that key was strategically important and vital to the survival of the Jjordic colonies. The only reason someone would steal that key would be to … big bold letters flashed through Maia’s mind … to HARM or DESTROY the colonies. But that could not be, she tried to reason. Around her, others tried to reason on their own. Fear slowly spread its stealthy presence across the room, and Maia felt the air around her grow heavy with apprehension.
Suddenly, Dani gasped and dashed outside. It took the rest of the team a moment to collect their thoughts before they ran out after her. They found her standing in dejected silence in front of the Sakoro trees, leaning on the rails, head hung low, her face drained of color.
“Dani,” Kusha said, gasping to catch his breath. “What happened?”
“Don’t you realize?” Dani said in a low but steady voice. “The only reason why anyone would want to steal that key is to disrupt the flow of energy. And if that happens, our colonies will be doomed.”
“You don’t believe what that crazy guy said, do you?” Kusha asked.
“And why shouldn’t I?” Dani’s voice was barely a whisper.
“Because you saw him—he could barely even sit up straight, let alone talk any sense.”
“I need to send a message to Hans right now. He’ll know what to do.” Dani started walking down the verandah.
“Wait, Dani,” Maia ran to catch up with her. “First, we don’t know if this man was saying anything meaningful or not. And second, you cannot send a message out from Xif; you would be breaking the rules of the XDA.”
“Then what do you expect me to do, Maia?” Dani turned around. “Watch while something terrible happens to my people? Could you do that if you were in my place?”
“We have to verify what he said is indeed correct,” Maia replied. “I mean, about what the key can really do. Then we can think about alerting the colonies.” She turned toward Ren. “Do you know anything about this key?”
Ren shook his head. “No. All information related to the Tyrillic Stabilator is classified. But the Stabilator is real. It’s the central repository of energy somewhere inside Xif. From there, energy is distributed to your planet . . . the land and the underwater settlements.”
“It must all be true then. I’ll try to send a message,” Dani announced. “At least I will have tried.”
“Why don’t we ask Miir?” Kusha suggested.
“Miir?”
“Yes,” Kusha replied, his tone calm and assertive as he leaned forward to look into Dani’s eyes. “Think about it, Dani. If he gives you permission, then as per the regulations, you can send a message to Hans.”
“And he might even know about the key or the keeper,” Ren seemed to appreciate the proposal.
“But, he—” Maia started to voice her concerns, but Nafi interjected.
“Maia, forget your personal squabbles for a while, all right? We’re discussing a serious issue here.”
“Personal? Squabbles?” Maia cast the most vicious glare she could muster at the girl who stared back with casual indifference.
“Can you think of any other way of doing this right? Kusha’s correct, he’s our only chance of averting a disaster without breaking any rules,” Nafi replied. “Besides, I told you to stop them, but you wouldn’t listen. Had you acted quickly then, we wouldn’t have this situation on our hands.”
“Let it go, Maia. We’re all upset and tired,” Kusha nudged her away from an unapologetic Nafi. “Let’s go to the communicator and see if we can contact Miir.”
“Well, I’m just tired of him yelling at me,” Maia sighed.
Kusha slipped an understanding arm around her shoulder. “But we don’t have a choice. He’s the only person we can think of who could help.”
30: Under the Glass Staircase
As soon as they reached their dining bay, Ren started working on a message to send to Miir. “How about, ‘Need help. Please meet us as soon as you can.’ Does that sound all right? Or maybe—”
“Just send it already,” Dani snapped.
With the note sent, the group tried to concentrate on the food, all of them unusually lacking their appetites for that time of the evening. The communicator chimed when they were barely halfway through dinner, signaling an incoming message.
“A reply!” exclaimed Ren as he leaned toward the screen. “Says, ‘Meet you now at the glass staircase, Miir.’”
“Let’s go.” Dani took off immediately.
They found Miir waiting at the base of the staircase, looking pensive.
“What is it?” he asked right away.
Maia took a deep, bracing breath as her friends started taking turns relating bits and pieces of their story. She was already sure of the outcome of this meeting; not only would he not empathize but he would also be livid at them for having spoken to Agotiias. This, she knew, was a futile exercise. As the narration progressed, Miir’s face grew darker and darker. After they had shared all relevant information, he stood with his arms crossed, lost in thought.
“Are you sure it was Agotiias?” Miir asked after a long while. “And he spoke of the Chrysocolla key?”
Heads nodded in unison.
“I have to alert the authorities,” he said, taking out a small silvery box from the pocket of his jacket. “Agotiias is indeed an old man and the keeper of one of the three keys. I was not aware that any of the keys were housed here, but if one is lost, there is a danger of it being misused.”
Dani inhaled sharply at his words. “I need to warn my people then,” she said.
“No, you cannot,” Miir said in a soft but stern voice. “Even if it is stolen, sending such information out would be a breach of security protocols. All messages sent from Xif are scanned, and unapproved me
ssages can be flagged within moments. Not only will your alert be stopped, but you will be deemed a threat and detained indefinitely. So, sending a message is not an option.”
“Then how will they ever know of the danger?” Dani wailed.
“I am sorry. There is no way to let them know except through official channels. Now, please, let me inform the authorities.” He opened the silver box and quickly punched some buttons. When the miniscule device buzzed into life, Miir spoke into the small receptor.
“Reporting an incident in the ASDRL area at the XDA—an old man named Agotiias, possibly drugged, spoke of a loss of . . . some Chrysocolla key. Not sure what he meant, but thought I should report it.” He paused and listened to the person on the other end of the channel. “Thank you,” he said into the device.
“They will check the rooms for any evidence of compromise. I shall try to find out the results of their inquiry, but I doubt they will tell me anything,” Miir said to the group.
Dani slumped down on the staircase. The rest stood around her, thinking of ways to keep her spirits up.
“That’s all? Now we just sit and watch as something terrible happens?” Kusha blurted, throwing an imploring look at Miir.
“I did what I could. I reported the incident without even verifying if your information was true,” Miir said, eyes widening at the terse question from the usually gentle Kusha.
“Verifying?” Kusha asked, blinking in disbelief. “You think we are making this up? And what will be done if what we say is indeed true?”
“Steps will be taken to secure the breach and implement safety measures here and in the Jjordic colonies,” Miir replied, shifting on his feet. He seemed to be trying to stop his impatience from showing. “That is the responsibility of our governments, and we have to have faith in them.”
“Really?” Maia interjected. She had vowed not to speak a word lest they be drawn into another “personal squabble,” but she could not stop herself from commenting. Kusha was right; they could not wait in the hopes that someone would take care of it. Something needed to be done, and now.
“What if the government you trust so much is involved in all of it?” she said in an unguarded moment, forgetting what her accusation would mean to him.
Miir had turned to listen to her. As the words sunk in, his eyebrows came together in a deep frown.
“How dare you say that? On what basis can you even think of making such an allegation? Do you know that snooping around the ASDRL is valid grounds to charge visitors with spying? And this is hardly any of your concern, so please stay out of it, will you?”
Maia balked. If her last statement was rather brash, Miir was not having a great day at choosing his words right either.
“Of course it’s my concern,” she retorted. “It’s my concern because my friend is in pain, because thousands of innocent people might be in danger.” Something inside her urged her to stop right there, but Maia was on a roll downhill toward disaster. “Just because you don’t care about anyone or anything but yourself, don’t assume that no one else does.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, Maia regretted saying them. Unfortunately, she did not have the power to pull them back. Miir looked appalled. Equally disconcerting were the shocked looks on the faces of her friends. Maia waited for Miir to reply in his usual unforgiving way, but he did not. He simply stared, blankly, dispassionately. He turned away to leave, and then turned back again to look at Dani who was sitting on the staircase with a vacant look on her face.
“Dani.” He seemed to hesitate, and then took a step forward. “I promise to do as much as I can to alert the colonies. I strongly urge you to stay away from getting into a situation from which there will be no turning back. Then again, if you like the advice of your wiser friends, feel free to ignore my warnings.”
Five dejected souls sat around the staircase long after Miir had left and did not walk back to their rooms until the lights dimmed for the night.
31: Summons
The next morning at breakfast, Maia noticed the dark patches under Dani’s eyes. She also noted how Dani was avoiding looking at anyone. Maia was doing the same herself, feeling thoroughly embarrassed of her spat with Miir. She had not only been impolite but downright spiteful.
Dada would be mortified if he knew.
Maia rushed to finish her meal, eager to escape the reproachful looks from her teammates, particularly Nafi, who had gone so far as to comment on “behavioral anomalies.”
Things took a turn for the worst when they received a message from Miir canceling the upcoming mentor meet. There was no mention of a new schedule, and Maia was certain that this was punishment for her recent rudeness. No one discussed the matter, but Maia knew everyone was worried about the impending challenges. The latest dining room gossip hinted that the final challenges would need close involvement of the mentors. So if Miir decided to not cooperate, their chances of making it to the next stage were practically nil.
Over the next few days, Dani skipped training sessions every now and then, sometimes her meals as well, and the circles under her eyes grew darker. While no one had heard anything about the stolen key, there was no news of any disasters either, but the thought of an unknown threat looming in the shadows made all of them restless.
Maia had decided to apologize to Miir; she had to break the stalemate. But hard as she tried to locate him, he was not to be found. She did not want to enlist the others’ help in this situation, so she decided to track him down single-handedly. Maia went peering into the seniors’ hallway on the topmost floor, lurking around their training sessions, and came dangerously close to bumping into Flight Master Demissie while spying on the Circle Four flight classes, all without a smidgeon of success.
During one of their own Flight Training sessions, they were introduced to the cockpit of a model Onclioraptor whose flight deck was the standard for all spacecraft in the Xifarian fleet.
“Get familiar with the controls,” the master bellowed. “You may be asked to fly one for the final challenge.”
While the Raptor was intimidating enough from the outside, the machinery inside was complicated beyond imagination, and the number of controls, buttons, and levers were simply overwhelming. Some of the groups were doing very well memorizing and handling the controls, but most looked dazed and bewildered.
Nothing could have cheered up the group as they walked in silence toward their quarters that evening. Since they had found out about the lost key, conversation at the table had died down, and the team had favored retiring early. Maia was simply hoping for a quick and silent dinner when Kusha noticed their communicator flashing with a new message.
“It’s from Miir,” Ren announced with a big grin. “It says, ‘Apologies for the delay. Mentor meeting scheduled for tonight. Be prepared to stay late for weapons practice.’”
A gloom lifted from Maia’s heart. At least the team would get the training they deserved.
“Yippee,” Nafi shouted. “Let’s eat and run.”
They rushed through dinner at a furious pace, changed into fresh clothing, and were soon on their way to the Snoso. The room was empty when they entered. Maia noticed that the floor had transformed; the seats had been folded, and the room now had a sunken circular depression in the center. As everyone picked up their weapons from the closet, Miir walked in with a long, black case. He flashed a small smile, jumped into the central pit, and walked to the far end. Nafi deposited herself on the edge with the red case on her lap, her legs dangling. The rest followed suit, scattering along the rim.
It seemed to Maia that Miir looked a little haggard and tired and unwell. Perhaps their meeting was canceled because he was sick, she thought, and not because of her brashness the other evening. Somehow, the thought that he could be ailing made her feel better inside, something she realized Nafi would most definitely categorize as yet another “behavioral anomaly.”
“Today, I am going to assess your hand-to-hand combat skills. This will be of critical impor
tance during the final challenge. I hope you have been practicing,” Miir said, his gaze lingering a little on Dani’s drawn face. “I will have a short sparring session with each of you to gauge your weaknesses. After that, it is up to you to train and improve.”
He opened his weapons case, parted the layers of velvet inside, and pulled out a magnificent double-edged sword. The sword was an intense, burnished black; its guard was shaped like a crescent moon and engraved with a two-tailed dragon. The dark blade was decorated with the same design, its sharp edge glinting in the light. Miir walked to the middle of the ring, and Maia knew it was now or never. Scared and nervous as she was, she decided to take her chances.
“I . . . I want to apologize,” she mumbled, stepping forward, “for what I said the other night. It was thoughtless and rude and I’m sorry.”
The room was silent. The only thing Maia could hear was their task sheet for the upcoming month being printed. Miir looked at her with an expression as inscrutable as ever.
“Draw your weapon and assume your stance.”
It was almost unreal how carelessly he chose to ignore her apology. Confused and bitter, but hopefully redeemed in the eyes of her friends, Maia took a step back, pulled Bellator from its sheath, and steadied herself.
In the moments that followed, she turned blind for all practical purposes. She could hardly see Miir or his sword; his moves were nothing but a blur. The blows came swift and hard and from all possible directions. The only thing Maia could do was to feel their approach and hope to bar them before they touched her. She stepped back and sideways, ducked and dodged, over and over again, trying to evade the black blade, which danced like a dark fire around her. After what seemed like an eternity, the onslaught stopped.
Maia found herself with her back against the wall, panting and barely able to think straight. Miir stood with a hand on his hip, leaning on his sword and observing. He waited until Maia caught her breath.