by Lesley Young
I stand up, outraged, trying to wrap the sheet behind me.
“Who do you think you are?” I shout at Or’ic. “You have no right to play with people’s lives like—” Oh-oh. I stood up too fast. The blood doesn’t make it my head and I stumble, dropping the sheet behind me, desperate to keep a hold on it over my front.
Or’ic catches me and helps me back onto to the downcore.
“Don’t touch me!” I shout, pushing him away the first chance I get.
He draws back, standing rigid. These high and mighty Kirs glance at each other, uncertain. Or’ic gives a few rapid orders to a Cinarian that don’t translate.
“I am having food brought,” he says, sitting back down on the downcore. “You need to eat. For your health. You would also try to stay calm,” he says sternly.
I ignore him. Calm? My head’s spinning. Thoughts reel around the big empty space. There must still be a way to save Daz, without sacrificing this other sifter. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Focus. Focus. Focus. I could refuse to go through with the agreement, but where would that leave me? Stuck here. They won’t let me go. At least this way, they’ll take me to the planet. I can get to the other sift. After that, who knows? But it’s better than staying here with these barbarians and doing nothing but jumping through sifts battling evil Aeon.
Holy stars, I travel through rifts—into other universes! Oh, how did this happen? Why me? Why, why didn’t I run away with King?
Be calm.
There’s still Plan B. My escape. Tactically, maybe not so sound. But one step at a time. I concentrate on breathing, and not on the powerfulness of that Aeon, who’d taken over my mind, invaded my body.
“You fear your destiny,” says Or’ic, clearly reading my face. “But in time you would see we would protect you always. That is our sole purpose as a Horde,” he adds. The other Kirs nod quietly.
“You couldn’t even stop one Aeon!” I say, outraged. The Kirs bristle. “And now,” I add angrily, “it knows about humans.”
“Yes, but it would have found out about them eventually,” shouts Pers’eus, surprising me with his vehemence, all the more because it’s out of character for him.
“Well, I would have preferred later!” I shout back. “What did it do to me when we were on the floor?” I shudder. “Why couldn’t you stop it?” I whine, remembering how frightened I was to face it all alone.
Kell’an rubs his face frustrated. For the first time, Or’ic flushes. Flushes with anger.
Good! I blaze on. “You should have warned me about them! I had a right to know!”
“You are right,” says Kell’an suddenly. He’s leaning against a wall, staring out of the window. Stars fly past, illuminating his profile.
He glances at Or’ic with his emerald eyes. They do their silent stare thing.
“She is young, but she must learn, my Prime,” he adds.
“Why do you keep saying that-that I’m a child?” I ask suddenly. “I’m 21 years old!”
Kell’an smiles at my outburst, still staring at the stars.
Or’ic answers. “Thell’eons live longer than humans. I am more than 80 human years. Kell’an is 75.”
I think I knew this, or suspected, but I’m still surprised.
“However we refer not to your physical age but to your ability. You are very young in that regard.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I wait for an explanation about the Aeon’s incredible power.
Or’ic rubs his hands over his shaved head. I watch his oblique muscles flex with the movement. His waist’s narrow and there are only a few tiny folds of skin where he bends forward.
“Some Aeons have the ability to slow down pockets of time,” he starts, speaking slowly, glancing at me to see if I’m listening. Look at the floor! “My Kirs were not frozen, as you say, but ‘stilled.’ By this I mean that our bodies were slowed down to a virtual standstill, although we could perceive everything around us in real time.” He adds the last bit with emotion. So they did watch me struggle alone with the Aeon.
“You have an advantage. You appear to be immune to Aeon time control.”
Oh. I hope all humans are immune.
“Can all Aeons do that? Is that why they are so strong?” I think to ask out loud. If humans aren’t immune, maybe ESE could invent a counter defense in like a million years.
“Very few Aeons are able to do this, just as very few Thell’eon are also able to do symbiosis, I suppose,” he answers.
That’s somewhat comforting.
Kell’an adds, “We were unlucky that you encountered such a rare, strong Aeon, Cassiel.” Is that the first time he has used my name?
“In fact, we have never encountered one so strong,” he adds, staring back out at the stars.
I watch Or’ic stand up to take a shot from Pers’eus.
“It was the same Aeon I saw yesterday,” I announce.
The Kirs freeze for a moment and glance at each other.
Or’ic breaks into a smile.
What the . . .?
Kell’an can’t contain his pleasure, the only time I have ever seen him not looking angry or stern, and slaps Or’ic on the back. All the Kirs seem delighted.
“What? What’s going on? Why are you happy?”
They’re practically beaming. Or’ic especially. “You sifted the future. That is especially rare among sifters,” he says, gloating.
“And that’s a good thing?” What’s wrong with these idiots? “Didn’t really help us today, did it?”
“In time, we would learn to use this better to our advantage,” says Kell’an.
I roll my eyes thinking how nothing could have stopped this Aeon.
Or’ic puts on his fierce face. “You would not tell another person about your ability to sift into the future. Do you understand? Do you understand?!” he insists when I don’t respond immediately.
I nod, focusing on my fear.
“At first, the Aeon, it was weak, but when it came through, it was very strong,” I murmur.
“Do they die?” I add suddenly. “Shouldn’t it have died when I stabbed it?”
“Oh, Aeons die,” pipes in Pers’eus. “They bleed, as you witnessed. They are biological organisms, just like us.”
I’m distracted, recalling how it chose not to kill me when it could have easily. “It wanted to take me with it,” I say quietly.
Or’ic and Kell’an share a glance that is too knowing for my liking.
There are no words to adequately describe my situation. Before I thought everyone was hunting a weapon. But Aeons hunt people, like me. Uh, so do Thell’eons.
“What about what it did to me?” I ask, shivering. “I thought it was someone else. I let it . . .” My voice trails off. My stomach churns just thinking about how it seemed to like kissing me.
Or’ic answers, his voice tinged with anger. “Some Aeon are also able to co-exist within another physical form for short periods of time. When they do this they occupy your subconscious with a false reality. Many hours passed while we watched you lay there. I imagine this koratch! tricked you into revealing your species.”
“And more!” I add, angry with myself. It was in me for hours? I have to stop myself from heaving again. “I boasted about humans,” I continue. “I told him how we’re smarter than Thell’eons. I even mentioned the Hathaway shield!”
When I quit ruminating, I notice silence. I suppose they don’t like that I think humans are smarter, like I care. It’s clear to me that, whether I want it or not, I’m somehow caught up in this war. Maybe I do have a role to play, but I have no plans of fighting along with these Thell’eon ‘gangs.’
No way. I’ll play the part I decide, alongside ESE Command. Humans whom I can trust.
But for now, I’ll play alon
g.
I mull over this ‘completed Horde’ concept. When Or’ic first told me about the sift, he said it was used to take both Thell’eon and Aeon across rifts into other dimensions.
“Tell me something, how in the universe are we supposed to cross over and find this other sift in an entire alternate reality the size of the universe?” I glare at them, not caring at the flash of offense. I probably should have asked them this in the beginning.
Pers’eus slams the bottle on a square table by the downcore. I note that he has no patience tonight, but I don’t care. I feel no obligation toward him. Not anymore. They are my captors. Nothing more.
“We are not going to cross the other dimension,” says Or’ic, motioning to Pers’eus to calm down. “As you have already ascertained, to go into another dimension unprotected would be foolish. I would wager all my offspring’s lives that the sifter is in the rift rather than on the other side in the universe.”
I don’t understand. “Hiding in the rift?”
“Yes,” says Kell’an. “As a sifter, you can cross over, or, not many know of this truth, you can also stay in the rift, the slip of space between this dimension and the next. Time is much slower there.”
I wonder how long a sifter could stay in a rift, safe from Thell’eons? But then again, clearly Aeons can hide in rifts, too.
“And then what? We’re supposed to convince this sifter to come back to the life he’s trying to hide from?”
“We would take care of that part, once you help us find him,” says Or’ic sternly.
Ah, right. Capture him, too. Force him into a life of galactic vigilantism.
Not if I can help it.
It occurs to me to ask who’s really calling all the shots here. “Won’t your government, I mean the Guardianship, intervene? How can you be sure they will allow you and Prime Aardon to trade Daz for this sift?”
“A complete Horde has the right to ask for anything it wants. The exchange has already been approved,” says Or’ic proudly.
Oh super! That means the Thell’eon government knows about me, and that it condones kidnapping, when a sifter is at stake, anyway. This is just, metatabulous.
“So there are other sifters?” I realize suddenly that there must be other complete Hordes.
“Yes,” says Kell’an, surprising Or’ic. Is Kell’an my new ally? “But we have only three. All of them have already tried to enter the rift in search of the other sift, unsuccessfully.”
Two seconds pass for me to register what really matters in this latest news.
“What makes you think I’ll find him if these others sifters can’t?”
“I do not believe it has occurred to any of the other Hordes that the sift is hiding in the rift,” says Or’ic, like I’m stupid.
I hope to the expanse he’s right.
A plate of food’s passed to me, and I nibble while the counsel Kirs wolf theirs down. At some point I think, ‘I should put on clothes,’ but I clearly can’t walk and the last thing I want to do is ask for help. It hurts to swallow, and being served by another Cinarie instead of Zeke, creates an even bigger lump in my throat.
Before I’m done, I think at once to ask the question I wanted answered this morning. “When are we are going to Taxata?” I’m in shock. Out of it, really.
Or’ic tells me we aren’t headed to Taxata but the closest intergalactic Thell’eon arena. I choke on that news, and before I can speak, he explains that once there, we will compete in something called a Candidacy to prove we are a Horde and receive a ranking, all of which is necessary in order to be granted access to the rift on Taxata being guarded by Thell’eon armadas.
I barely process this. I really want to cry. I mean, seriously? Can’t we just go to the fucking planet?
“What exactly do we have to do at this Candidacy?” I ask numbly.
“We each compete against other Kirs in areas we are skilled at. In our success, we are ranked by the Order against other Hordes,” says Kell’an eagerly.
“The Order?” I ask, thinking there is so much I have to learn about Thell’eon that I don’t give shit about. So much for my desire to be an exo-anthropologist. “What do you mean ranked?”
“They are judges,” explains Or’ic. “They consist of the best members of famous Hordes who are now too aged to fight. They are great warriors—”
“So how high do we have to place to get granted access to Taxata?” I ask, cutting him off. I don’t really care about his pecking order and what it means. I sip a glass their delicious water, and chase that with another cup of whiskey.
“As long as we compete successfully, we would be given access. Your presence assures that. Still, our overall efforts will be ranked subjectively to give us a final ranking among all Hordes, and guarantee us unlimited resources,” says Or’ic.
“Look, can’t we just skip this Candidacy, and go straight there?”
Ignoring my remark, Or’ic explains what each of them will be fighting in: Pers’eus competes in some kind of gun contest, Shadon in surge wars, Onegin with his hands (surprise), Kell’an with some kind of weapon called a Kuda, and Or’ic, a game of wits.
“Oh, you have some,” I mutter, beginning to tire. My eyelids are heavy and burning a bit from crying. Despite this, I pick up on something unspoken. The Kirs are glancing at Or’ic.
“You must fight, too,” says Or’ic, slapping me wide-awake with this pronouncement.
“Ah, you’re kidding me, right?” I say, with my terrified laugh. “Against who? Are you crazy?”
“We put in a special request because you are so young, human, and female. We hope you will be classified as a junior Thell’eon fighter or given a pardon. We are waiting to hear. There are so few sifts, I believe they would permit this.”
I don’t how to take this new information. I should be offended, but I’m terrified that I have to compete against any Thell’eon. The younger my competitors, the better. Bring on teenagers!
A pardon’s probably a long shot.
The dark cloud hanging over me grows thick with malaise.
“Is there anything you are good at?” asks Onegin, entering the room from around the partition. The others must have sensed his presence before me, because I’m the only one who’s startled. His eyeballs are bright red with broken blood vessels, I presume, but otherwise he seems fine. I’ve never not seen him in his cloak, or without weapons. In this state, he seems harmless. Sane, even. As gorgeous as ever.
“Yeah, running. I run real good,” I snarl. Could I sink any lower?
When I glance back at Onegin, I’m shocked. Something’s changed between us. He no longer loathes me.
“Maybe she could try the surge wars and I could fight instead,” pipes in Shadon.
“No, I have been in her mind. She is not strong enough,” says Or’ic.
Oh nice. He’s oblivious to my glare.
“But her emotions are incredibly strong, my Prime,” says Shadon.
“Yes, but far too chaotic,” says Or’ic.
“Hi, right over here,” I mutter.
“We need to choose a match that is not physical,” says Kell’an.
The five of them carry on talking about me, listing off contest categories that I really don’t know anything about.
Things just can’t get any worse. I remember being worried about the strengths that ESE would list for me before my H2H tests. And now, the exact same thing’s happening with an entirely different species.
Wait, that reminds me. I couldn’t have had a better idea! It even fits in with my escape plan!
“Hey!” I pipe up, interrupting their conversation. “Is flying a skill that’s tested? Because I’m a really good pilot.”
Doubt crosses their faces at the exact same moment.
“I’m not touti
ng my own horn.”
Onegin’s clearly confused.
“Boasting. It means boasting. I’m all that, and more. I swear.”
“Cassiel,” says Or’ic, chuckling. The others take his lead and openly express derision. “Even if you were good, you are no match for Thell’eon pilots. Besides, our ships are different than yours. We fly by neural interface.”
What is it with the male species and large machines?
“I’m one of the best pilots on Earth. Well, I was trained by one of the best, anyway,” I amend. “My brother.”
Now they seem embarrassed for me.
“Do I need to remind you that Daz escaped the entire fucking Thell’eon armada. At least the first time around!” I shout at them.
When this fact sinks in, I can tell I have their attention.
“He taught me everything he knows,” I continue, realizing how badly I need to convince them. “I was practically raised in a velo. At least let me try. I can show you. Please, Prime Or’ic!” Flying! I think. Not only will they have to show me where they keep their ships, I’ll have access to one. I have to control my excitement, lest I give away my plans.
Or’ic glances at Kell’an.
“We can put in a request for a Bon’mi?” Kell’an asks Or’ic.
Kell’an is my new best friend.
I wait, anxious beyond belief.
“First, you will show us. Later,” adds Or’ic.
Yes! Yes! Yes! I merely nod at Or’ic. He looks at me funny, and I check my mind to make sure he’s not in it.
Or’ic makes some kind of motion to the Kirs, and Pers’eus and Shadon leave quickly together. Kell’an follows them.
Oh. No. I’m about to be alone with Or’ic in his downcore, naked but for a sheet.
Anxious to get away from him, I stand up, but I’m still unsteady, especially from the booze. Before I lean back on the downcore, Onegin’s by my side. He scoops me up and carries me into my room. I catch a glimpse of Or’ic’s pleased face before I’m back in my own space.