“When we land, we’ll be coming right as the planet shifts into nighttime,” Crystil said, clearing her throat. “Things will happen a bit quicker, as the globe’s rotation takes twenty-two hours. You will probably experience some time distortion, but I’m confident we’ll adjust to it.”
“Do we know what the ratio of day to night is right now?” Celeste asked.
Crystil strummed her fingers on her chair, in thought.
“Cortanus, think you’re gonna have to take over here,” Cyrus said.
“Right now, there are nine hours of daylight and thirteen hours of night,” the ship said.
Silence came as everyone’s minds racketed with competing voices reflecting on the trip, their memories, and what lay ahead. Cyrus had long thought that he would handle the journey the best of anyone. Celeste desperately missed their father and Monda and had gotten yanked away too young. At the very least, not getting a long goodbye probably left her unfulfilled. Crystil acted like she had fortified herself in a giant steel castle, but Cyrus knew enough of her story to know her scars weren’t on her body.
Now, with no one willing to indulge him in humorous banter, he realized how much he had wanted to know but never would because he’d been afraid to ask. He was afraid to reveal his emotional side to his father and sister. Celeste needed consoling, not the chance to console. His father needed space to govern, not a thousand questions. He could change his vulnerability now, but as for the questions from the past…
He stood up.
“Cyrus, sit down,” Crystil said, looking up firmly but not angrily. “This ship’s going to shake when we get close, and you need to be buckled in.”
He sighed and plopped back down.
“You’re telling me you wouldn’t want to see me flop around this ship like a rag doll?”
“I wouldn’t,” Crystil said.
He smiled, and she nodded in return, her facial expression unchanged. That was as much as he would get out of her.
Unless…
“So what’s this all for, Crystil?” he said as he took a seat, his normally cocky smile replaced by inquisitive eyes.
“Survival,” she said, but she kept tight eye contact with him.
“I see,” he said, his arms crossed, in a difficult conversation both for her succinctness and his fear of intimate conversations. “Celeste? You?”
She leaned forward to get in his vision and brushed aside her hair with a smile.
“To carry on the memory of Dad and everyone we knew.”
Cyrus nodded in approval and leaned back in his chair.
“And you, Cyrus?”
Cyrus grimaced. He looked away, then back toward the planet.
“We’ll find out,” he said, which deflected the question.
When the silence came and he didn’t have to justify his answer, he realized he didn’t really know. He had just gone because it’s what his father had said. He hadn’t bothered to think about the meaning of his existence anymore. He just read, trained, and laughed with his sister.
Choosing not to think deeply, he realized, served a protective purpose.
“We are now in Anatolus’ gravitational pull,” Cortanus announced.
“Strange, still feels like the same artificial gravity of the ship!” Cyrus said, relieved to have something to joke about.
Crystil ignored him, her chair sliding forward as she commandeered the flight controls.
“This might get a little bit bumpy. The atmosphere is somewhat like Monda, which was relatively smooth, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to be the same here.”
Cyrus quickly buckled his seat belt. He put his hands on the straps, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, let the breath out slowly, and opened his eyes back up as he trusted his safety to the commander. He had no intention of disobeying here.
Space disappeared from their vision. They got closer to Anatolus, and Cyrus spotted a large forest in front of the mountain range. Besides the forest, though, it looked like all flatlands, with nothing but green, light green and small patches of dark green. There was the ocean, but as they came closer to landing, it disappeared from view as well.
“Where are we landing?” Celeste yelled, the sound of the ship making it hard to hear anything else.
“Right in front of the forest,” Crystil shouted in an impressively loud voice. “Gives us the most protection if we need to hide from anything.”
What would we hide from?!?
Cyrus became too nervous to speak and held on tight as the ground came closer.
“Time for our new home!” Crystil said with an unexpected smile.
When Cyrus looked at her, he swore her eyes watered, but he knew he’d never find out if it was from his shaky vision or true tears.
Crystil slowed the ship down, and the worst was over. They’d made it through the atmosphere without any damage, and aside from a possible jolt upon landing, nothing stood in their way for a safe arrival. Cyrus breathed a sigh of relief and laughed as he put his hands up in the air and shouted with boisterous joy.
“We made it! We made it! Yes! Yes, yes, yes!”
Celeste laughed and cheered as well, and even Crystil smiled, her hands still on the controls just in case.
The ship gently landed about fifty feet from the forest. Cyrus saw the sky turning a darker shade of blue. He unbuckled his seat belt and stood on top of the control panel to get a better view. Crystil said his name, but he ignored her, and she didn’t say anything else.
“Wow,” he said, turning to the other two, his arms stretched out wide. “We can see more stars with our new sun still out than we ever could on Monda. It’s like we’re on permanent vacation!”
Crystil powered the ship down to the bare essentials and motioned for Cyrus to come down.
“Should we go outside and explore?” Celeste said.
“Wouldn’t recommend it,” Crystil said. “The sun’s about to come down, and though I feel like this planet is safe, there’s no point in risking running into a predator. We spent what, two years in space? We can survive about fourteen more hours without tasting the air or feelings the ground.”
“Man, I’ve been cooped up in a space smaller than a fifth of the palace for over two years and you want to keep us here still?” Cyrus said, still standing on the console. “You’re the worst kind of torture!”
Cyrus waited for the laughs, but none came.
“You can go if you want, Cyrus, but do you really want to go explore a land you don’t know?” Crystil asked.
“What’s an adventure if not without some risk?” Cyrus said, smiling.
Crystil sighed and shook her head, though Cyrus swore a smile was there too.
“I’m excited like you, so I’ll forgive your cocky mouth, but just remember, we’re not on an adventure. We’re on a survival mission. If we happen to have adventure while doing it, well, so be it, but that’s not the mission.”
Cyrus opened his mouth, but the sight of Celeste pleadingly looking at him kept him quiet. He hopped down with both feet from the console and brushed himself.
“Every hero needs a good night’s sleep, I suppose,” he said.
He walked past Crystil, paused, and turned to her.
“Thanks for getting us here,” he said.
He finally got what he had privately wanted.
A smile directed at him. Not at Celeste, not at both of them. Just at him.
“Get some sleep. Our new lives start tomorrow.”
9
Celeste usually woke before anyone else, craving the alone time morning brought.
But tonight, with her new home just an airlock away, she couldn’t even sleep. She instead stood at the window of her room, grateful to finally see something besides blackness. It was the best kind of insomnia, like the night before a wedding.
She felt as if she could tell the difference between the artificial gravity on Omega One and the gravity of Anatolus. The only senses she could not yet fulfill were touch and smell, and she prom
ised herself the second the sky turned a lighter shade of blue—even if it was still a dark, deep ocean blue—she would open the airlock in the belly of the ship and breath natural oxygen.
Excitement came too from seeing Cyrus and Crystil finally appreciating each other’s company. Crystil had smiled at his gratitude instead of brushing it off. He’d spoken sincerely, instead of nonsensically. Celeste now, thankfully, wouldn’t have to bring them together, since they already moved that way.
She put her hand on the window, and it felt lukewarm. It warmed her heart to touch something that faced the outside of the ship and wasn’t freezing.
Suddenly, a chorus of fleeing cries came from far away, like a flock of aviants migrating. It seemed odd that so many creatures would screech at night, and though she could not see individual animals, she could make out the general shadowy shapes flying away. They flew in a V-formation, and though than aviants on Monda, by no means were they monstrously gigantic. Why would they fly away at night? Can they see? Wouldn’t they have waited until daylight?
An ominous rumbling, like one an airship would produce, sounded overhead, followed by a deep, prolonged growl. Celeste had a terrible feeling as the growl struck a deep, primal instinct that told her to run as fast as she could. She looked out the window but couldn’t see anything.
Then a much more pronounced roar, scarier than a balicae when fighting, ripped through the skies. Celeste backed away out of her quarters and looked at the rooms for Cyrus and Crystil. According to the tiles outside their rooms, both of them somehow slept through the monstrous sound.
“Oh no,” she said quietly to herself.
She made her way to the cockpit, thinking that would grant her a better view of whatever had produced the terrifying sound. She looked at the sky and noticed a section of the stars had gone pitch black.
Then the stars reappeared, and she realized she was looking at a massive creature. It was impossible to say just how high it was, but unless it was mere feet above them, it was truly a massive sight to behold, by far larger than Omega One or anything Celeste knew of. She gulped and sat down in the chair, refusing to budge, as if any movement would draw the attention of the monster and spell their doom.
“Cortanus,” she said, barely above a whisper. “What is that?”
“I do not know, Celeste,” it said, the voice coming out of only the tablet in front of her. “I did not pick up that creature on our approach. It may be nocturnal and have hidden from us as a result.”
“Oh,” she said nervously, folding her arms and watching with terror as the creature glided away. “Do you know anything at all about that creature? Anything?”
“No.”
Celeste nodded as the creature vanished, but its cries still echoed, some new, some old ones that looped in her head.
“And the ship? If it attacked, could it withstand it?”
“The ship was designed to be defended by the strongest materials on Monda. It can withstand fire attacks and bombs in a short span while grounded, but I would not suggest attacking a creature of that size head on, even if it is not a predator.”
That would be great but unlikely, Celeste thought. In any case, I’m on the safest spot in this planet.
I hope.
Even though the creature had vanished, it had struck a particularly terrifying note for Celeste who, because of Cyrus, had long believed in monsters in her childhood. Though just five years her elder, Cyrus often spooked her with stories of wild balicae stalking them.
The problem wasn’t not believing the stories. It was the timing and convincing fashion in which Cyrus would deliver them—at night when their father had gone to sleep, and with sound effects like hissing, roaring, and growling.
Even though she had long outgrown the stories, her past amplified the fear of seeing a real monster on their new home. She felt completely on edge, imagining the sounds of predators jumping on the ship, hunting her, Cyrus, and Crystil. She saw shadowy figures moving across the land in front of the ship. She thought she heard incomprehensible speech outside the ship and grew nervous that on night one, she had already lost her mind.
Perhaps I’m better off not being here. I’m just here because of who Dad is. Cyrus and Crystil, they’re the ones that matter. Not I. I’m just a tag-along, a third wheel. I don’t mean anything. I’ll drag them down. I’ll go insane and hurt the mission. The mission will be ruined. Crystil will be so upset. Cyrus can’t defend me at that point.
They’ll send me back to Monda. Back where no one’s alive. What if they are alive? No, they aren’t. They aren’t. Gone. Just like we will be if this thing finds us and kills us.
I should’ve stayed behind. I should’ve died with Dad. I wouldn’t be losing my mind like this.
The thoughts dragged on through the night, any hope of sleep well gone.
The monster did not appear again, though many times Celeste thought she saw blotches of stars vanish. But each time she did a double take, the stars glowed in the same spots as before. Only the brightening hue of the sky gave her reason to believe the creature had vanished.
The familiar, normally alarming sound of boots echoing through the hallway brought a welcome sense of normalcy to Celeste, who whirled around, waiting for Crystil to enter. When Crystil did, a bowl of food in her hand, she looked at Celeste, puzzled.
“What are you doing in here?”
Celeste, her arms folded, realized this was Crystil’s home on the ship.
“I don’t mind you being here,” she said, sensing Celeste’s uneasiness. “I just didn’t expect you. Are you OK?”
“Did you hear any of that… that horrible sound from last night? From the monster in the sky?”
Crystil looked befuddled at Celeste as if she couldn’t figure out if she were making a prolonged, well-acted joke.
“No, I slept the whole time. Didn’t wake up once.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” Crystil said as she took the commander’s chair, much closer to Celeste. “You don’t look like you slept at all.”
“I didn’t.”
Crystil had no reaction. Though Celeste could usually figure out Crystil’s thoughts and emotions with uncanny accuracy, she couldn’t get a read on her.
“Celeste. If you can, get some rest. I’ll let you sleep four hours before I need your help.”
Though appreciative of the offer, Celeste sensed Crystil’s doubts. She thinks she would’ve woken up if such a thing exists.
There’s one thing here that can’t lie.
“Talk to Cortanus, Crystil. There’s something horrible up there and I don’t like our chances against it.”
She dashed to her room and settled into her bed. Just as she pulled the blankets up, Crystil’s boots coming down the hall got her back up. Crystil walked in with an unusual amount of concern on her face.
“I just talked to Cortanus, Celeste. I’m sorry.”
Crystil stepped in to close the door.
“You know what I told you yesterday after training. I’m in the same boat as you, Celeste. I’m terrified. I’m mortified we’ll die inside that thing’s stomach. But let’s remember how much we don’t know. We’re making too many assumptions. We don’t even know if it’ll hunt us or attack the ship. The largest creature on Monda is a plant eater, you know. We can’t assume anything.”
Celeste understood. But even with wanting Crystil’s answers to be the sleep-inducing drug she needed, she couldn’t escape the fear.
“I understand,” Celeste said, craving some alone time.
Crystil pursed her lips, not believing the younger Orthran, but nodded in approval anyways.
“Good. We’ll begin exploring this planet in four hours. Let me know if you need anything else.”
Celeste had many answers to that, but none which anyone could fulfill. The door shut behind Crystil as the trembling roars from the previous night rattled inside Celeste’s mind.
10
Sleep became impossible for Celeste, as likely ret
urning to Monda. The sounds the creature produced went far beyond her worst nightmares, and as the sky got brighter, the light in her room amplified the noise in her head.
After two and a half hours, she gave up and threw the covers off her bed. Eyes wide, she put on her boots and stood when she heard Crystil approaching. The feet stopped in front of Cyrus’ room, and Celeste heard the deliberate, hard knock on her brother’s door.
“Wake up, sleepy,” she said.
Celeste, confused, finished dressing and walked to Cyrus’ room. She couldn’t believe the commander didn’t sound like the commander. Crystil still stood authoritatively with her back straight. Cyrus laid in bed on his side.
“Cyrus, we need to start exploring the planet. And ideally, we need to do so during the day,” Crystil said, with no wavering in her voice.
“Why? Are we throwing a giant planet-warming party tonight to welcome ourselves?” he said as he kicked off his sheets and went to his closet to change.
“There’s a giant monster that hunts at night, Cyrus,” Celeste said. “It’s terrifying. It’s probably triple the size of the ship. At least.”
Cyrus paused, his back to them, and slowly turned to face the two women. His face looked grim, and Celeste felt the hot rush of panic hit her—if he felt this way…
“You’re telling me… there’s a creature that can destroy this ship by itself… and it comes out at night?”
Celeste grimly nodded. Crystil displayed no emotion, but Celeste could feel her tension.
Cyrus looked at both of them, bit his lip, and burst out laughing.
“Oh man, Celeste, I have to give you props, that’s a good one, I almost believed it with Crystil’s face! Is this revenge for all of the stories I made up? I bet you even have some sound effects for this monster!”
“Cortanus,” Crystil said.
Celeste turned to the display on Cyrus’ wall, which showed a replay of the previous night with the creature’s low roar. Cyrus’ laugh, which had started in response to a presumed joke, continued but quickly became a defense mechanism for the truth.
“Hahaha, oh man. We’re dead.”
Kastori Revelations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 1) Page 5