Phoenix Rising (Dragon Legacy)

by Previn Hudetz

  “Look out!” Mtumba shouted as they veered toward a large asteroid. “If you don't know how to fly this, then let me do it!” he yelled, moving toward her. She slapped his hand away.

  “I'm doing fine!” Stella growled, irritated that he was getting in her way just as she was figuring out the controls. He backed off, clearly upset.

  “Great, just don't get us killed,” he snapped.

  As she started to understand the controls better, Stella maneuvered them around the large asteroid, and noticed a reassuring shade of blue beneath them. “A life-planet!” she gasped in relief, and then swerved to avoid being crushed by another cluster of asteroids.

  “I hope it's terra-formed,” Mtumba muttered, but Stella was too focused on flying to answer.

  She did everything in her power to take their small shuttle toward the calm blue glow of the planet. It involved a series of disorienting swerves and dodges, but eventually they passed through the heart of the debris. She sighed with relief, and the planet quickly grew larger in the front view-glass.

  “Look out!” Mtumba yelled as he pointed at another meteor coming in fast from the side. “Don't hit it!”

  “Working on it!” Stella shouted as she narrowly avoided the lethal collision. It grazed the side of their small ship as it hurtled past, and sent them into a tailspin.

  The small shuttle was bounced by the friction of atmospheric entry, rocked around as its deflector systems desperately tried to correct course during their spinning descent. Mtumba held onto a safety brace, clearly about to be sick, and Stella tried desperately to correct course with the maddening controls, but that seemed impossible.

  The last asteroid must have damaged their propulsion system. Stella grimaced at Mtumba and realized that he might throw up the soup she'd given him earlier. Perhaps just a bit selfishly, she was glad she hadn't eaten it, and a small smile briefly quirked her mouth...but only briefly.

  Stella felt queasy. The ground was a spinning blur beneath them as they plummeted toward the grim fate awaiting them below. Her hands shot across the controls, hunting for anything useful. A red icon blinked at the bottom of the flickering light-wheel, and she punched it hard.

  Stella grunted as the brake-pulses kicked in and they were rocked by a series of stomach-dropping, directionless lurches. They'd slowed their descent to something less deadly, but still not enough for a smooth landing.

  She wasn't quite so glad they'd found this planet now, and squeezed her eyes shut. Stella experienced flashes of memories in her mind. Some she'd forgotten, but others were vibrantly clear. Bits of her life that had stuck with her over the years, high points and low points, such as they were. Stella suspected this might be her last memory, and her pulse pounded in her ears.

  She decided to risk opening her eyes and saw the ground rushing at them in a blur. One final burst of the brake-pulses, Mtumba screamed out something in a language she didn't recognize, and then there was an abrupt, loud crunch followed by absolute darkness.

  2

  Nice Flying

  The old man looked up from his garden into a clear azure sky marred only by the streak of light marking an atmospheric entry. “Strange,” he muttered, and set down his plow. He walked up to the small, ancient cottage framed by the distant mountains of snow and ice. It was time.

  Stella was awakened in stifling darkness by the faint sound of chanting. She didn't understand the language, but figured it must be the one Mtumba had used right before the crash.

  “The crash!” Stella tried to bolt upright, but was caught by her harness. She rolled her eyes, glad Mtumba hadn't seen her do that. “Still here,” she winced, though whether from embarrassment or the twinge in her left wrist...well, she couldn't be sure. If asked, she'd blame it on her wrist. “Mtumba,” Stella called out, answered by a creak and brief illumination of the cabin from a sparking circuit. Then they were back in darkness. The front window must be covered, she reasoned.

  “Nice flying,” Mtumba coughed. “But...I'm okay, I think...are you all right?”

  Stella smiled in the darkness, letting his comment slide. “Yeah,” she said. “Thanks. I'm glad you're okay. Although how we made it through that...I have no idea.”

  “I think...” he began.

  “What?”

  “I shouldn't talk about it.”

  Stella groaned. If there was one thing guaranteed to simultaneously pique both her interest and her ire, it was knowing someone had a secret that they wouldn't share. “Okay, fine,” she said as calmly as possible. “We need to find a way off the shuttle.”

  “And do what?” Mtumba asked. “Wander through the snow? That's all I saw on our way down. That and rocks. And judging by the fact we're still here, I'd say we landed on the snow.”

  He had a point. “There must be some sort of survival gear in here,” she suggested, and he grunted.

  “Maybe. We can check.”

  Didn't he realize this was important? Stella hustled out of the flight chair harness and started feeling along the sides of the cabin to find some sort of container or bin...or something useful. Her hand finally came across a pressure-latch and she grinned as the bin popped open. Light spilled into the cabin as the circuit let out another spark. There was something about the sparks...something she couldn't quite remember. Something her father had said...

  “Here, let's look at what's in here,” Stella suggested, rooting through some clear vacuum-sealed bags. “Open this one,” she said and tossed a bag to Mtumba. Stella inspected the one still in her hands, and smiled. “Do you know what these are?” she smirked.

  “No, what are they?” Mtumba asked.

  Stella stood up and opened the bag, glee written on her face. A survival jumpsuit rolled out. “This...this is how we're gonna stay warm out in the snow!” she smiled. Mtumba looked skeptical.

  Mtumba had located another bin, this one with dried rations. He lifted them up to her, and smiled. “Now this is what I'm talkin' about,” he grinned. “Anyway, how do you know that'll fit?” he asked, and she felt her confidence waver.

  “Because it has to,” she huffed. “Here, I'll show you.” She started to unfold it, but felt a spike of embarrassment as she saw how large it was. He grinned at her, and she scowled. Apparently, they were made for adults... “Put yours on, too,” Stella instructed him. No need to look silly all by herself, she reasoned. He grudgingly conceded, but muttered something in that strange language again, and tried to figure out his own suit.

  After only a few minutes in, it was abundantly apparent that Mtumba's concerns were well founded. The gigantic jumpsuits draped off their arms like great tentacled sea-beasts, and pooled around their feet like melted popsicles. He looked at her, mouth open as if to say something.

  “Don't...say it,” Stella grumbled over the link in their bubble helmets. Mtumba just bit his lip, and nodded.

  What were they going to do now? It was freezing outside, and they needed some way to move around out there. This had seemed like such a good idea, but now...she was feeling really discouraged. What else could they do? This meant they'd be stuck in the shuttle indefinitely, and how long did they really have? Stella considered the food Mtumba had found, and figured that maybe it would last a few days if they rationed it, but they'd have to be careful. She took a deep breath, hoping they could figure something else out.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a squishing sound, and she noticed Mtumba's suit had pulled itself in to fit him correctly. His finger was still on the resizing button. He looked at her, about to speak.

  “Oh,” she said, and resized her own jumpsuit.

  “What next...Captain?” he asked as a grin crept across his face.

  “We search for people,” she said, ignoring his implication. “There has to be someone out there.”

  “You think they'd take us in?” he laughed.

  The circuit sparked again, and then again. The sparks were coming more frequently, and Stella suddenly remembered what her father had told her...how a spark coul
d mean fire, and that could mean loss of oxygen, or an explosion. She moved into action, locating the hatch release and securing the helmet of her jumpsuit.

  “They'd better take us in,” she said urgently, “because we have to find our way to the Garden Citadel! My dad's gonna meet me there.” Stella looked at Mtumba, her hand on the switch. “You ready?”

  Mtumba secured his own helmet and gave the thumbs-up. Stella nodded then pressed the release switch, and the hatch popped open with a hydraulic hiss. A gust of snow blew into the cabin, and they stepped out into the frozen wastes to search for signs of life. “I hope we find someone soon,” Mtumba said, and she nodded.

  The old man poured a hot cup of lavender tea with a wistful smile, and then another. He stirred a bit of honey into the second, and set it in front of the chair across the small table. He looked out the cottage window at the garden, and took a sip. “It will have to wait, I suppose.” He was alone.

  “Where in the universe are we?” Mtumba asked for what she supposed was the millionth time. Stella turned to face him, but he kept going. “And remind me again,” he continued from ahead of her, “why we had to leave the shuttle.”

  “Look, Mtumba,” she said through gritted teeth, “I already told you that we just need to look for lights, or listen for people. There's got to be someone living on this freezing rock! And that shuttle could have blown up, so don't bug me about it anymore, okay? I probably saved your life!” She was at the end of her rope, and wasn't sure how much longer she could stay positive with Mtumba. Stella felt like he was trying to drive her crazy with all these questions, and she wasn't in the mood to answer them anymore. She was hungry, cold and tired. “Let's keep looking,” she said as she surveyed the icy wastes ahead of them.

  Then she saw it. A light coming from a cave partway up a mountain to their left.

  “There,” Stella grinned, and Mtumba followed her hand.

  “Finally,” he huffed, fogging the glass inside his bubble helmet. It'd mean a fair bit of climbing, but would be worth the effort if it meant finding someone who could help them. So, they began the march up to the light coming from the cave mouth.

  They kept to a shallow incline area, trying to follow the general line of a rock formation to hold onto, just in case the snow got deep all of a sudden. Stella wasn't sure if that was the right way to do it, but it was the only idea they could agree on, and it seemed to work all right as they made their way up the side of the mountain toward what she hoped was sanctuary.

  The blue sun was setting purple over a lavender horizon, and a storm was moving in from across the valley where their craft had crashed. Mtumba pointed to the white haze that already obscured their abandoned shuttle. “We better get there soon, unless you want to spend tonight making a snow fort,” he commented. Stella grimaced. Boys and their forts. She trudged on with renewed vigor.

  They were almost there, and the cave was starting to come into focus. The light was steady though, clearly not from a fire. “Okay,” she thought aloud. “This could be good! Might mean generators. That'd be nice!” Stella rubbed her hands together in anticipation of the potential warmth offered by a heat generator and they kept moving forward. They arrived at the mouth of the cave just in time to see the cloud as it approached the mountain, and Stella saw snowflakes beginning to collect on her jumpsuit.

  “Wait,” Mtumba said as he grabbed her arm, then sheepishly let go when she glared at him.

  “We can't afford to wait out here,” Stella pointed out.

  “No, but trust me, there's something strange about this cave.”

  “What are you talking about? How can you be sure?”

  “I can...feel it,” Mtumba said, and squinted into the cave.

  The light seemed to come from an indistinct source, which upon closer inspection Stella could see were crystal specks in the walls. No people, then. She felt her heart sink. What were they going to do now? Mtumba saw her expression and quickly said, “Maybe there's something here we can use to send a signal to someone.”

  A signal! Why hadn't she thought of that in the life-shuttle? It was almost guaranteed to have had a beacon of some sort! Stella felt like she was about to cry but pulled herself together.

  “Let's see what's inside,” she said and walked into the cave.

  3

  The Cave

  The old man drew his thick robe over broad shoulders, and tested his tall staff with a smile. He whistled a tune no one else would recognize, and wondered what lay ahead. It had been too long since he'd been unsure of what to expect. His hand rested briefly on the cottage door, and then he was gone.

  After wandering into the cave for a few minutes, the teens could tell there was definitely something unique about it. For starters, the crystals were luminescent. That would have been strange enough, but in addition, the crystals were humming. It was a high-pitched, pervasive sound and they had to strain to hear it. It made Mtumba nervous for some reason, but he didn't offer any explanations so Stella let it be.

  She had to break the silence.

  “So...where do you think we are?” she asked, and Mtumba laughed, shrugging.

  “The planet or the cave?” he asked.

  “Let's see...the cave,” Stella rolled her eyes.

  “I don't know, but wherever it is, it's eerie.”

  “What's eerie about it?” she prodded, hoping he'd give her a better idea of what he was thinking, but Mtumba just shook his head.

  “I can't place it exactly, but it reminds me of something,” he replied as he looked around. Stella searched his eyes. “I'm sorry, but I can't talk about it.”

  He actually sounded sorry, as if he would have liked to tell her but couldn't. Not surprisingly, that didn't satisfy her burning curiosity. Stella just felt stymied, and was getting frustrated with Mtumba.

  Not only were they clearly alone in here, but every step took them deeper and deeper into this foreign place, and she had no idea where the path was leading them. It was scary, and Stella craved conversation. Something to keep her mind occupied, to help her stay calm and relaxed.

  “Can you at least give me a hint about what you're thinking?” she pleaded. Mtumba looked at her, perplexed. “Wow, what's going on in there?” she jibed, searching his face. He looked serious, though.

  “How about this?” he said as he stopped to look at her. “Once you go through your wadi ajali, I'll answer any questions you have.” Then he started to walk again, and she followed him.

  “My...my what? What is that?”

  “Wadi ajali. It's something my tribe does. At least we used to. I don't know anymore,” he said, and his eyes clouded over. “I really can't do this right now. Can we just keep looking around, and not talk about the Turami?” he asked sharply.

  “Sorry,” Stella said, slightly mortified. She hadn't meant to hurt him, but he'd probably been through something just as difficult as she had. He was a refugee, too, wasn't he? Why hadn't she thought of that earlier? Well, she wouldn't forget again. Stella put her hand on his arm, and he looked at her, tears in his eyes. She hugged him, and he clutched her, sobbing. He was just a boy, after all, and neither of them knew what they were doing here.

  They stayed like that for a while. Stella wasn't sure how long, but it was apparent how much Mtumba had needed to be shown some compassion. Stella patted his back gently, and then drew back slightly. “You okay to keep going?” she asked with renewed sympathy. Mtumba nodded with a sniffle, and then realized he couldn't wipe his nose through his helmet.

  “I need to blow my nose,” he said nervously. “Do you think it's safe to take off our helmets?”

  “I don't know,” Stella admitted. It could kill them. Chances were high, and somehow it felt like her fault that they were in this situation. Then she made a decision. She reached up to unfasten her own helmet, but Mtumba gasped and quickly reached over to stop her.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “You don't have to do that.”

  “But I want to.”

&nbs
p; “I'm sorry, but no,” he said somberly. “My honor won't permit it.” She conceded that men put much stock in such things, even when it seemed stupid. Especially then, perhaps. It was hard to take him seriously though, when he was clearly in such dire need of a tissue.

  “Fine,” Stella conceded, “but I...I'm sorry.”

  Mtumba just looked at her as she let her hand fall from her helmet, and then nodded. He unfastened his own helmet with a hiss and a grunt, and then removed it, his breath escaping into the air as a small tuft of steam. He shivered, shaking his head, and blinked once.

  “It's cold, but not as bad as I thought it'd be,” Mtumba said. Stella let out a sigh of relief and he looked over at her. “It seems safe, at least,” he smiled at her, sheepishly wiping his nose with his sleeve. He sighed with relief. Without meaning to, Stella grimaced a bit. “Oh, sorry,” he said, embarrassed, then began walking further into the cavern.

  She followed him, removing her helmet as she walked. Taking it off was slightly uncomfortable because of the change in air-pressure, but once it was done Stella felt relieved. The air was clean, and it was good to breathe it in, even if it was a bit cold. She noticed that the humming was slightly louder, now, but she wasn't worried about it anymore. Honestly, what was the worst that could happen?

  The low-lying ice storm buffeted the old man's robe, but he was unfazed by the chill. Moving with a powerful agile grace, he held his staff in a relaxed grip; at the ready should any giant native ice-wyrms foolishly mistake him for easy prey. The sun had set, and the deep cold had set in, his gentle garden now far behind him, safe within its eternal springtime. Set in that most magical of seasons that his wife had loved so much. How things changed.