by Philip Hamm
His knees were beginning to tremble towards the end but he did not falter. When he was finished, his father bowed his head and the congregation gave a loud ‘hurrah’ to confirm they had witnessed his induction.
Narikin dropped to his knees again. He felt his father’s sword on his head. “He has made the promises,” he said to the room. “Make sure he keeps them. His life is in your hands now.”
There was a second ‘hurrah’ and his father turned and left the room. Everybody else stayed behind to welcome their newest member. Wine was brought in and bowls handed around so everyone could toast and wish him well. He was allowed to sit in his father’s chair as the captains and commanders offered their congratulations.
After the toasts, Subarsi and Nayaika stood on either side and introduced the senior officers. They were followed by the junior officers. Last of all, the crewmen from the other ranger ships filed past. More than once he heard them say ‘our prince’ like a benediction.
When they were alone, Narikin said to Subarsi, “I didn’t know I would become a ranger today – why didn’t you warn me?”
“I didn’t know myself until a few hours ago but the Kyzyl Mazhalyk leaves sooner than expected for the Third Sphere and this may be the last opportunity to get you to the Kyzyl Kum for quite some time.”
“I understand - so, I’m not quite a ranger yet...?”
“It would be more accurate to say you are not quite an officer but quite wrong to say you are not a ranger. You have made the promises. There is no turning back.”
No going home, thought Narikin.
“Why is the Kyzyl Mazhalyk leaving now and not later?”
Subarsi shrugged, “I don’t know, Narikin, but her captain insists he must go tomorrow morning.”
Narikin looked at the tantō-blade his father had given him. The hilt was inlaid with ivory and mother-of-pearl. The scabbard matched. He drew the blade out an inch. It was highly polished and he could see the rich pattern of folds in the metal.
“That is a fine sword,” said Nayaika.
“I know this one,” said Narikin. “It was on the wall in my father’s study. If I lose it, he will probably cut off my hands and feed them to my dog.”
Subarsi laughed, “Then keep it with you at all times.”
“I will,” he drew a deep breath. “Now, I suppose I had better go and pack. I want to thank you for your help; I hope I will remember what you have taught me.”
“You had better,” said Subarsi. “I won’t have Kruvak saying I can’t train a crewman; he might think the Kyzyl is better than the Kara!”
They bowed to each other and Narikin returned to his cabin alone. He found it difficult to believe he was even slightly ready to go to the Third Sphere; there was so much he didn’t know. He should have spent more time on the Kara Kum. He should have read more books. Another week of wearing full armour and the vacuum suit and he might have managed some stairs...
Fengtai was waiting for him, eager to hear his news. “Is it true?” he began before Narikin had a chance to speak. “Have they made you a ranger already?”
“Yes,” he replied. “They rushed it through so I could join the Kyzyl Mazhalyk before it leaves for the Third Sphere. I don’t feel ready though.”
“That’s just your nerves,” he smiled. “I don’t suppose anybody believes they’re ready until they’ve spent time actually doing the job they’ve been trained for. You’re going to be a bridge officer but how can you train without a proper bridge to work on?”
“I know you’re right but to make me a ranger without a proper test seems like tempting providence to me.”
“Captain Subarsi is very experienced; he wouldn’t send you to Captain Kruvak if he thought you couldn’t cope or might become a danger to the Kyzyl Kum. He’s giving you the chance to prove yourself; you should take it and stop worrying. When does the Kyzyl Mazhalyk leave?”
“Tomorrow,” Narikin replied. “I’ve got to pack tonight so I’m ready for the morning.”
Fengtai’s smile faded, “So sudden,” he said. “There’s no time to celebrate properly. We were going to have a party in the mess-hall but there’s no time now...”
“You were going to do that for me?”
He nodded, “It’s traditional...”
“I’m not sure I deserve such attention. I heard the other rangers saying ‘our prince’ when they welcomed me after the ceremony and I found it a bit embarrassing.”
“Everybody admires the way you have stood up to your father’s wishes and put the clan before him; you must stop believing you don’t deserve our respect.”
“But my father is the leader of the clan; shouldn’t I have followed his orders?”
“Did he order you to return home?”
“No, but he wasn’t pleased when I volunteered.”
“And yet he allowed you to continue and today he blessed your induction in front of hundreds of witnesses. That’s a very powerful message. He is willing to put his heir on the front-line of our defences. Even the Emperor will hear about that…”
Then the truth dawned on him. He sat down heavily on his bunk, “He’s found a way to turn my stupid decision to join the rangers into an act he can use...”
“I don’t understand,” said Fengtai, looking confused.
“I’ve been naïve again, Fengtai. If I never return from the Third Sphere, my brother, Titer, can become heir. That’s what both of them have always wanted.”
The fisherman’s son looked appalled, “Your father can’t want you dead...?”
Narikin nodded, “Titer is everything I’m not; he’s strong and good with a sword like my father was. Even when we were children, he was always the leader in our games. He would make a far more impressive head of the clan than me.”
“Then you know what you have to do,” said Fengtai.
“What’s that?”
“You must become a proper officer.”
“And how many years will that take? Do you think Evigone will still be here? No, Fengtai; officer or not, nobody is going to listen to me or follow my commands. Nobody will follow me like they would Subarsi, Kruvak or even my brother.”
He began to collect his things together to pack for his journey. He pulled the ditty-bag out from under the bunk and opened it.
“I would follow you,” said the fisherman’s son.
Narikin paused, “But why would you do that? If my father has no faith in me, why would you risk your life to serve with me?”
“Because your father is wrong,” he replied.
9 – Kyzyl Mazhalyk
Narikin found it difficult to settle that night. His mind wouldn’t let him sleep. Questions, like a cloud of gnats, kept buzzing and stinging until he wanted to beat his head against the wall. Would he fit in with the crew on the Kyzyl Kum? Would Kruvak still want him aboard? How would the other members of the crew react when they met him?
Very early the next morning, two hours before the bell was due to ring, Subarsi’s steward came to wake him. He brought his breakfast on a tray and told him, “The boat for the Kyzyl Mazhalyk is due to leave in one hour, my lord. I will come for you then.”
Fengtai sat up in his bunk and said sleepily, “Is it time already?”
“Not yet,” said Narikin, “Go back to sleep.” He felt the bed shake as Fengtai’s head hit the pillow again.
After drinking the tea and eating a few mouthfuls of rice, he showered and dressed. The Kyzylagash was very quiet. He had another mouthful of rice but he was too nervous to finish. He checked his bag again. He went to the toilet for the third time. “Perhaps I should have gone for a run,” he thought as he walked back through the empty corridors.
An hour later, there was a knock at the door and his heart leapt. “It’s time,” said the steward’s voice.
Fengtai looked up from his pillow, “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have got up…” He climbed down from his bunk and they faced each other.
“I hope you pass the other assessments as eas
ily as you passed the history paper,” said Narikin.
“I wouldn’t have managed it without your help. I will do my best to make sure your time wasn’t wasted.”
“I’m sure you will be successful.”
“You have inspired me, my lord.” He bowed, “I hope we will serve together one day.”
“It has been a privilege to meet you, Fengtai. Thank you for your help.”
The fisherman’s son shook his head, “It was nothing.”
“No, without your encouragement to keep me going, I would not have been able to carry on. And you made me see my position through the eyes of the rest of the clan. I will do my best not to dishonour your faith.”
Fengtai looked embarrassed, “Have good fortune in the Third Sphere, my lord - and beware the deadly goats!”
They laughed and Narikin opened the door. “Until the next time,” he said.
The steward was waiting patiently outside. He took the other end of Narikin’s bag and together they carried it across the ship until they came to a bay where dozens of small boats were lined up.
Captain Subarsi and Lieutenant Nayaika were waiting for him. “We came to wish you a good journey,” said Subarsi, “And to remind you of your promises now that you are a ranger…” He smiled, “But I think you remember them quite well.”
“I do,” said Narikin.
“Remember to practise your exercises every day,” said Nayaika, “And build up the strength in your wrists.”
“I will,” said Narikin.
Subarsi held out a package of letters tied together with string, “If you would be good enough to deliver these to Captain Kruvak,” he said. “They are for his eyes alone so don’t lose them.”
“I won’t,” said Narikin.
“This is a copy of my brother’s poems,” he added, giving him a small book. “I’m sure he will look favourably on you if he discovers you have read them.”
They bowed to each other and Narikin thanked them for their help and for coming to see him off. “You have both been very kind,” he said.
“One last thing,” said Subarsi. “Your father gave you his tantō-blade for a reason. It carries his seal and will be of more use to you as symbol than a weapon. Keep it safe and keep it secret; if somebody should steal it, you would be unable to prove your authority and the thief could claim it for their own. Do you understand me?”
Narikin thought about his father’s wish to see Titer as his heir. “Yes,” he said. “I understand you very well.”
Titer would try and take the blade from him – just like the toys he had played with as a child. Though it was treason for him to say it out loud, the captain had realised as well. The Shōgun had not been generous at all and Narikin was simply taking the blade to where Titer could reach it.
Narikin bowed again. “Thank you for your advice and your support,” he said. “I will try not to dishonour you.”
The two officers bowed and watched him leave.
He tried not to cry as the boat left the bay but he could not stop the tears. Luckily, his back was to the pilot and he wiped them away without being seen. They flew into the gap between the great hulls of the flagship and began the short flight to the Kyzyl Mazhalyk.
He was leaving more than his friends and family behind. His journey would take him away from Pentī Prime and everything he knew. He would be among strangers and even stranger peoples. All the books in Evigone couldn’t prepare him for what he might encounter there. “Not even the deadly goats,” he thought, with a smile.
The boat was open, protected by its Exarch bubble and he had a glorious view. The stars of the Second Sphere shone brightly and he could see the dark green clouds of the First, mysterious and forbidden, far below. Above him was the Great Void, between the Second and Third Spheres, almost black except for glimpses of stars through the curtain of the Great Barrier.
Pentī Prime was so blue; its single ocean a bright circle cut from of the black fabric of the Second Sphere. The great ring that circled his world scintillated in the sun’s light like the trail of a rocket, frozen in time, sparkling white. The five moons, equidistant from their mother-world, defined the clans. The Karasor moon, where the Kyzyl Mazhalyk was waiting, was closest.
In his books, he had seen pictures of the seas of the Third Sphere; how the systems made the ions swirl and cloud together, flags and streamers of green and pale yellow. But from the Second Sphere, most of their light was lost. The void between the spheres was an abyss, impossible to cross without the gates of the Lords.
He had read there were countless stars and galaxies beyond the dust and rocks of the outer boundaries of Evigone. He couldn’t wait to see them.
The Karasor moon grew larger. Narikin knew the moons of the Third Sphere were all alike; plain and white with craters and seas of lifeless dust, a vivid contrast to the worlds that were so green and lush, full of animals and plants. The Karasor moon had been lifeless too but now it was covered in cities and acres of glass. It was bigger than the Third Sphere moons, almost three quarters the size of Pentī Prime, and orbiting three times the distance from the centre of gravity. It had moons of its own; tiny satellites converted into docks and harbours centuries ago. Most of them were redundant now, closed after the end of the Hundred Year War, their ships retired or lost in the Third Sphere.
He could see the patchwork of cities and greenhouses that covered the moon’s surface. Over many generations, his people had built a skin of glass to cover its nakedness; mirror surfaces protecting them from the vacuum and the harsh solar radiation. Crops were grown and cities had expanded upwards like forests.
But there was never enough land for both people and cultivation and demand for fruit and grains had exceeded supply as the population increased. There would have been starvation on a massive scale if the Third Sphere had not been opened by the first explorers.
Tens of thousands had answered the call and migrated to the empty worlds of the Equatorial Sea, the band around the middle of the Third Sphere. Their colonies were old now, with cultures and traditions of their own. But if the Taira abandoned their duty as their protectors, would they choose return rather than remain alone, unguarded, and at the mercy of the other empires? Who would feed them then? Or did the Taira believe their supplies would come from somewhere else? There were other worlds in the Second Sphere capable of feeding them, Wicopy and Isamus for instance, but the Lords of Wuminger had told them from the beginning they were not for them. Did the Taira intend to go against the wishes of the creators and send ships to try and take them by force? What would the other races of the Second Sphere have to say? The fragile peace would be shattered. The Lords might even close the gates around Pentī, isolating them from both the Third Sphere and the rest of the Second. It would be a disaster.
Narikin didn’t understand why the Taira were so blind to the consequences of abandoning the colonies. All the fish in the ocean couldn’t keep their people alive, so why choose ruin rather than keep the empire intact? And what would happen if the colonists decided to stop the flow of food to force the Taira back to the negotiating table? How many would suffer before the Taira realised their mistake?
The boat entered the shadow of the moon and the sun and Pentī Prime disappeared behind them. He could see the lights of the cities across the dark landscape, forming a regular pattern of squares marking the intersections of the covered fields.
He wondered what it was like to live among millions of his people. What was it like to live a ‘normal’ life? He supposed he would never know. Now he was ranger, he would be one of just a couple of hundred for days, maybe years, to come. For a moment, he felt envious of the people below him. They would live their long years down there in peace and security, never knowing the dangers of the rest of Evigone. Unless there was a civil war, of course.
The Kyzyl Mazhalyk was moored to an untidy nest of gantries and accommodation blocks of one of the bigger satellites. The destroyer looked small against the complex but as they flew closer Nariki
n could see she had twice as many decks as the Kara Kum and was two thirds longer. She was well-armed with a range of turrets piled high on the main hull and jutting out of the bows of the outer hulls. But he could see she was old, even by the standards of the ranger ships; the barrels of her launchers were short and stubby, showing they had been cast at least a hundred years before the longer designs had come into service.
She had been made to defend Karasor worlds beyond the equatorial belt when their empire stretched to the far north of the Third Sphere and there were colonies in the south too. She had been present at the defence of Bastion at the start of the Hundred Year War. She had helped defend Marlag. She had been present at the Battle of Variola and had used her nuclear torpedoes to scour the planet’s surface. She had a long and noble history but even Narikin could see her time was over. Though she was still used in the defence of worlds like Sarillon, it was a strategic rather than a tactical role; like a toothless old dog that can still bark loudly enough to scare away intruders.
The Kyzyl Mazhalyk was still in service because of her commander, Captain Uigur. His determination alone had saved her from the scrapyard. He had spent his whole life in the Pentī navy, most of it on board the Kyzyl Mazhalyk, and would probably die in the captain’s chair. He had a reputation for being eccentric and in private, many of his fellow captains thought he was unreliable. He had failed at Bastion because he’d let the Enoth-Zarktek take the initiative. And, if he had acted swiftly at Marlag, he might have stopped the Xenoterop-Zarktek from unloading their Quagga legions.
Narikin had met him once, when he was a child, and the sight of the one-eyed man with a stump where his foot should have been, had frightened him so badly he had to be taken out of the room in disgrace. He was hoping their reunion would be slightly less dramatic.