As Clara stepped down the ramp, the three Realitians moved to meet the party.
“Lieutenant Dahncion reporting, Captain. The detail is ready to embark.”
“Nice to see you again, girl,” added Foxso’l. “As always, beautiful.”
Clara smiled. “Time to go home.”
Duncan looked at the captain, somewhat taken aback.
“Duncan,” Erina interjected, as she handed him a beautifully carved box.
Nodding, he presented the box to Clara. “This is the way the Zureeday want to welcome the angels of the stars.”
Clara received the gift and smiled mildly, but her eyes did not. A recurring thought had been afflicting her over the past few months. Now the intimacy of that name—Duncan—had strengthened the shadows of her fears. For while recovering from her wounds and even struggling to stay alive, another name—Dahncion—had been her silent but constant companion.
92.
“Lieutenant Dahncion reporting, Captain.”
A virtual window materialized in the door to O’sihn’s quarters. “Come on in, please.”
Stepping inside, Duncan found the captain working at his desk.
“Please, take a seat.” O’sihn raised his eyes. “So, how are things going today?”
“Fine, Captain.”
There was anxiety in Duncan’s face. “We can make this informal, Dahncion.”
Duncan reclined in his chair. “Sorry if I get straight to the point, but my next watch is in thirty minutes.”
“Of course.”
“It’s about what we discussed last week,” Duncan added.
Duncan’s subtle fiddling with his fingers did not pass unnoticed to O’sihn. The captain seemed to understand what was in his mind.
“So, you’ve been giving it some thought.”
Duncan nodded. “I’m afraid I still feel the same.” He paused, inviting O’sihn to add something, but he didn’t. “I’m not sure I should be doing this anymore.”
“What is it that makes you doubt?” O’sihn asked.
Duncan grimaced with discomfort. “Through my actions, many things have happened, many people have died—and that’s not the only thing.”
Duncan paused again, and again O’sihn remained silent.
“What gives me the right to engage in a fight in a universe that isn’t even mine?”
“Right.” O’sihn tapped a finger on his desk three or four times. “How about duty? Duty to stand for what is right, regardless of any universe.”
“Right can have many meanings,” Duncan said. “What is right in one universe might not be right in another.”
O’sihn took a twees from a small box on his desk and sniffed its sugary top, his eyes focused on Duncan. “The very fact that right, as in what is good and fair, has a common meaning for you and me, though we were born and grew up in different universes, shows that goodness itself pervades reality, and therefore any universe. It touches all, creating a common bond, a common good, and a common right to defend what is good.”
Duncan shook his head. “I still don’t think I should be involved in this any longer.”
O’sihn kept his eyes on Duncan for a moment, with a grave, though gentle, look. “You’re absolutely free, Dahncion, to resign your commission whenever you desire. Nobody will question your reasons, especially after all you have done.”
“I’ve discussed the matter with Erina,” Duncan continued. “We do agree on keeping our commissions with the Navy, as long as some serious consideration is given to getting us back home.”
O’sihn nodded, putting aside the official notebook he was working on. “You have every right to ask this. We are the ones who brought you here in the first place. And it’s also fair for Erina, who has served with us and risked her life for us on more than one occasion.”
“I know these things take time and resources,” added Duncan, “and the Realdom is at war. But we think it’s something we should at least ask for.”
O’sihn’s serious expression was replaced by a warm smile. “And what you’re asking for is at hand.”
“The answer to your request may well lie in our current destination,” O’sihn pointed out.
“It’s a classified mission,” Duncan said.
“Indeed, it is. We’re on our way to pay a new visit to our old Veridiawan friends. We’re heading back to the Althean system.”
Duncan smiled politely, not yet seeing the connection between Veridiawa and his potential trip back home.
“Your presence here, in this universe, is closely linked to Althea 8,” O’sihn continued. “Two years before your journey to Reality, Realdom archaeologists had discovered the ruins of an ancient city not too far from the Veridiawan village. Very little remained of it, but it had clearly been built upon a much older complex. In the beginning, the discovery seemed related to a non-technological civilization, until a technon159 was found inside one of the buildings.” O’sihn tapped his twees on his desk. “The technon was not operational, but it was found to be a trans-universal connector tuned into Earth, your Earth. It was this discovery—Doctor Oyhtter’s discovery—that enabled the expedition to your world.”
Duncan was distressed to learn that. He had never doubted that the technology that had brought him from Earth was the exclusive product of Realitian science. The assumption had always given him reassurance: even if the Establishment was a formidable enemy, the apparently superior technology of the Realdom would eventually have the power to turn the course of the war around.
“This information is highly classified,” O’sihn continued. “Until recently, we had managed to keep it from Establishment intelligence.” O’sihn paused and fixed his eyes on Duncan. “Your next and last mission, Lieutenant Dahncion: to plant a localized T.A.T.160 adjusted to disintegrate the entire trans-universal complex—right after you and Erina have abandoned this universe.”
“You said the technon was not operational,” Duncan pointed out.
“A team from SERI has been working on it for a long time, and they have finally succeeded in rendering it partially operational. However, it can’t be used unless at least one living being from the target universe is present in the technon.
“But my body has been bio-assimilated.”
“That should not be a problem. The information required by the technon is still in your body. Nevertheless, Erina has not been exposed to the RIBA device. Although we don’t fully understand many aspects of her transuniversal organism, her partially assimilated body will guarantee the success of the process, even if you were not there.”
“We would be safe, then.”
“Though very small, there is a risk involved in the procedure.” O’sihn paused. “Erina and you will always have the choice to blow up the site while remaining in this universe.”
Duncan nodded.
“However, if you are positive about returning home, I would not miss this ticket. The risk involved is minimal, and it’s unlikely that the Realdom could allocate the effort and resources for an alternative procedure under the current situation. Frankly, things have not been getting any better for the Realdom either. The First-Equitarian’s strategic skills are proving exceedingly brilliant. If we lose this war, this opportunity at Althea 8 might be your last and only chance to get back home.”
“Why blow up the technon? Why not move it somewhere else?”
“Such an effort would be very difficult to hide. Most of the structure lies underground. It’s solid, compact, and it can’t be dismantled. Its volume would require a major operation. Unfortunately, under the present circumstances, we have no other choice but to destroy it as soon as possible.”
93.
“Althean system by the low port, sir.” Lupain transferred the star readings to the captain’s console.
“Copied. Down-starboard standard rudder, bearing one seven-zero dash zero-six-zero; regular orbital-adjustment speed to the eighth planet.”
“Down-starboard standard one-seven-zero dash zero-six-z
ero; eight regular orbital, aye captain.”
“Final average orbit, twenty thousand kilometers161, regular,” O’sihn added.
“Final ten thousand reg, aye, sir.”
“Why that high?” Laida asked, keeping her attention on her scanner scope.
“I want to take a wide-angular scan before getting any closer.” The captain checked the chart on his screen. “Tactical situation, T.O.?”
“All clear, Captain.” Tygrum was on the bridge today at his console, near O’sihn.
O’sihn nodded and turned to his intercom. “C.I.C./conn?”
“Lieutenant Deehra, sir.” The C.I.C. holographic virtual console materialized to the left and in front of the main screen.
“Stand by for tactical scanning.”
“Aye-aye, captain.”
“Constant distance readings, Lupain.”
“Aye, Captain—present range: four hundred thousand kilometers.”
“Cilia?”
The virtual console of the communications officer of the watch came on. She had shared that duty with McAwian during the past two years. “Yes, Captain?”
“Call Ensign Erina to the bridge.”
“She must be in her resting period,” Laida pointed out. “She covered the last watch of the night. I’d rather have her wide awake later on the planet.”
O’sihn nodded. “Order canceled, Cilia.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“One hundred and forty thousand kilometers,” Lupain noted.
“C.I.C./conn?”
Deehra’s console came on.
“Situation?”
“Fifty thousand kilometers, and scans read all clear, Captain,” Lupain said.
“Copied.”
“Orbital deceleration engaged.”
O’sihn turned to Laida. “Once we achieve first orbital perigee—”
But the command was never completed.
94.
Everything was gray, with a sundry variety of hues, and yet nothing but gray. It looked like an endless, uniform jungle. But in one particular spot, an ashen, worn-out construction stood out from the foliage, disrupting the surrounding monotony. It was not easy to tell its purpose, although it resembled an ancient temple. A two-paneled door seemed to be the only connection between the edifice and the jungle. Carved on its gritty walls, long rows of hieroglyphics and other obscure symbols remained visible despite centuries of erosion. Standing at the entrance, Duncan was apprehensive—yet he had to get inside. He checked the doors: they were unlocked.
Very carefully, he cracked one pane, but its noisy hinges gave away the uninvited presence. A gray powder sprinkled down from the tall lintels as the door gradually opened. Duncan glanced around and stepped in, leaving the door ajar. Nobody seemed to be inside.
They started wailing morbid melodies.
Although everything looked quiet, there were some disquieting clues on the walls. A few lit candles were casting shadows into a large semicircular amphitheater dug in the ground under a dome-like ceiling. There was a big basin in the middle of the chamber. To one side, a large, flat stone resembled a sacrificial altar. Behind it, a wide, polished black wall, with a texture like gelatin, went all the way up from the ground to the ceiling. This wall was totally unmarked, contrasting with the loaded symbolic scripture and ornamentation everywhere else inside the building. The big basin, placed before the black wall, contained a tar-like fluid. Viscous bubbles occasionally popped up from the sticky broth, impregnating the air with a rancid, acrid smell.
Suddenly, the sound of many voices began echoing from the jungle. Heavy steps could now be heard approaching very fast.
In the back of the amphitheater, ragged curtains hung shabbily to the floor from rusty hooks nailed on the wall, close to the ceiling. Hiding behind them seemed to be Duncan’s only option. Through the curtains’ dusty fabric, Duncan watched an uncanny assembly quickly gather around the altar.
The humanoid figures were clad in odd vestments—like ritual habits—that bore a resemblance to military costumes. The expressions on their faces were cracked and emaciated; their empty eyes gave forth a sense of hate and desolation. Once they had occupied the places that belonged to each, they started wailing morbid melodies. Their voices were dark and deep.
Standing between the altar and the basin, a faceless creature ministered the ritual. At one point, it lifted up its arms, and a dense silence followed. It immediately dissolved the quiet with the violent yelling of three names. Stepping towards the altar, three individuals came forward with three black phials, which they filled with the viscous content of the basin.
The faceless character displayed an anguished smile of wrath, invisible and yet perceptible. Turning to the black wall, it started whispering murky sounds. It was subtle, patient, and perseverant. It did not take long for the wall’s dark texture to yield its blackness, exposing a glassy-brilliant screen to which it was attached.
A whole variety of shapes became visible. Everything beyond the screen was seen as through a clear, blue brightness.
The crystal shield started moving upwards, exposing all the treasures that lay behind it. As the three creatures, armed with their bottles, went through the doughy gelatinous wall, the gathering cried out, intoxicated with hate and unbearable pleasure.
The landscape beyond the curtain had a remarkable beauty. It was like a vast garden planted with precious stones, with a sea of liquid crystal to one side. Amethysts, diamonds, rubies, emeralds, agates, sapphires, pearls mounted on topaz, opal: they were all crystallized in a sundry variety of refined geometrical forms. But nobody was keeping guard of the treasures, as if its keeper had been bribed.
The three operatives moved quickly and determinedly. They seemed to know their jobs very well. Without wasting time, they started smudging and splattering the impeccable scene with the sticky black broth they carried in their phials, which seemed never to go empty. The garden of clean, radiant colors was rapidly turning into a murky, loathsome pigsty.
The ground, made out of mother-of-pearl inlaid in marble, was quickly losing its splendor. One of the creatures headed straight to the sea of liquid crystal, and once in front of it, started pouring out its phial. The wraithlike character was very meticulous at its job; it certainly did not want to get splashed by any crystal drop that might stain its clothes with persistent blotches of beauty. It took only a moment to turn the sea into an oily quagmire.
Inside the temple, everybody rejoiced with mystifying misery.
The three creatures soon completed their assignments. As each one now came out through the gelatinous wall, an oppressive expression of pleasure darkened the contorted shadows of their faces.
The wall resumed its black texture, but the crystal screen behind it did not come back to protect its ravaged gardens again.
The foul ritual had concluded. Clad in bitter silence, the attendants began to leave the building. They had managed to spend an agreeable, acrid evening, but now, despair was resuming its ruthless yoke. They were alone with their incurable, inscrutable pains, carved deep within themselves, upon their very names.
The last one to leave slammed the doors behind it. Inside, a few candles remained glowing.
Duncan was standing alone in the midst of a desolate silence, soaked with a cold sweat. He attempted to take a step, but he fell on his knees. He strove to get up, but he could not. Helpless, and trembling, he looked at his hands: from beneath his nails, he saw a dark, thick fluid dripping slowly onto his fingers. He pressed his eyes shut and closed his hands tight against his chest, but in doing so, his clothes pasted onto his flesh with something thicker than sweat.
In the center of the chamber, a lightning bolt burst. The walls began to melt; the altar, the basin, and the gelatinous wall imploded. A cloud of shadows was left, but it gradually dissipated. Only Duncan remained, floating in a deep blue sky, too bright for his eyes to stare at.
In front of him, a human figure began to take shape. Duncan suddenly recognized him: it was
the same who had once disclosed to him the meaning of sternessence. Duncan tried to remember his name, but he couldn’t. Well, that had been a dream . . .
“I must be dreaming,” Duncan concluded in a whisper.
With a somber look, Lan Leakim fixed his eyes on him. “Your childhood, your childhood, your childhood . . .”
The quiet words resounded intensely in Duncan’s mind. He did not understand this; it was as if he were blind, and now he did become blind. He could not see any more, only a black, sticky darkness.
And then, the dreadful explosion . . .
Duncan woke up, startled. The emergency panels of his quarters were on, their intermittent red lights blinking on and off in frantic desperation.
95.
A convulsive cracking rocked the entire ship. Only the lights of some instruments remained visible on the bridge. Both the main and emergency gravitational compensation units had been overridden, unable to cancel out the large accelerations induced by the explosion. The first thing O’sihn saw when the lights came back on was Laida lying on the floor, with one of her elbows dislocated from its natural position. She also seemed to have received a severe blow on her head. The X.O. had been momentarily knocked out, and now she was fighting to regain consciousness.
“Don’t move.” O’sihn got up from his seat with some difficulty and knelt down by Laida. She kept trying to get up, until the pain from her dislocated elbow rendered her totally motionless. “T.O., assume X.O. Get the bridge reorganized.”
“Aye-aye, Captain,” Tygrum acknowledged.
A flood of intercom traffic was coming from the commanding console. Still kneeling beside Laida, O’sihn pushed a button on his console. “Damage control/conn, overall damage report.”
Reality: The Struggle for Sternessence Page 30