Cassiel Winters 1: Sky's End

by Lesley Young

  It was hard to concentrate, lying there each night trying to sleep surrounded by half-naked men, who don’t smell great all of the time, I might add. I kept mulling over how these aliens are limited by their experiences, seeing as they really just train on-planet and are then assigned a Horde and travel around fighting Aeons with each other.

  That’s when I came upon it.

  When I told them my idea to give Shadon the upper hand the next day, there was a lot of disgust—boy they sure enjoy nay saying—which is what convinced me and, in turn, them, that it would work. Shadon could see it, too, and agreed to go over the details of how to create such an experience in someone’s mind. We even surged so he might truly feel it. And sure enough, using my idea in his final ruck, he blew away five Kirs and was elevated 10 levels.

  Shadon’s opponents were trying to convince him he was being eaten alive by a great hairy animal with lots of sharp teeth (one of his worst fears I guess) when he pulled out the Cassiel Special: convince his opponent that he was female!

  The crowd was shocked, I tell you. And every single Kir ripped off the visual interface in fright.

  It took me a second to realize I was the only one who clapped and cheered in that moment—didn’t take an astrophysicist for them to figure out whose idea it was. Regretfully, I could tell I gained some respect from the competing Hordes when they finally pushed pass their disgust.

  The Thell’eon women are harder to read. They seem mildly interested in me but mostly they are totally absorbed with themselves. Obviously they watch the Kirs, but without any depth of emotion or attachment. There’s no admiration either. Yeah, that’s it. In fact, I would go so far as to say that they probably barely tolerate them. It makes sense in a way, but I find it wholly sad, and kind of incomprehensible, their lack of . . . interest in half of their species.

  The way the Kirs peacock around before and after their tests confirms to me just how hard their lot is. Clearly they want to be noticed, appreciated for more than just their abilities.

  A few of them did direct their peacocking at me, like right now. The winners from today’s contest are being recognized in the largest of the five arenas, and a few pause, ever so subtle, before our area, trying to make eye contact with me. My Kirs don’t like this, I sense that much. I pretend not to notice.

  I should be more nervous about my test tomorrow. I’m waiting to depart from our observation area to head back to our room. Thank the celestial makers it’s the last night sleeping here. I’ve managed to log maybe six hours of sleep in 48 hours. Unlike Thell’eon women, I’m not immune to the fleshy sights that flash in front of me cohabitating with dozens of men, with Or’ic right beside me. Last night I rolled over to see him wide-awake, less than two feet away, staring at me!

  I touch my face involuntarily, exasperated, as we wait, forgetting not to be distracted while in public.

  When I glance back up, something odd catches my eye.

  Was that . . . yes, it is . . . a flash of red hair! Not one Thell’eon woman or Kir weak one I’ve seen yet has red hair! I could swear, oh, there it’s again. The back of a redheaded man. I strain to spot him again among the departing crowds on the other side of the arena. Dammit, he pulled a hood over his head. Of course, I’m losing it, searching for King here. Ridiculous.

  The pain of missing him hits me like a kick in the stomach.

  I grasp the edge of box I’m standing in. Or’ic asks me what is wrong, but I don’t answer. I watch my King illusion go all the way up the rows and disappear into a hall. I tear my eyes away reluctantly, and that’s when the ground moves beneath my feet. Right there, across the arena, staring at me, is Lt. Lazarus! It can’t be him! But it is! He’s wearing a robe like the weak ones, but that’s his face. I’m sure of it.

  Am I sifting? I must be sifting.

  My Lt. Lazarus illusion glances to my right quickly, and I look over to take in Or’ic and Kell’an focused intently where I was just staring. When I glance back, Lt. Lazarus is gone. Merged into the crowds? Activated his invisibility cloak. Come on, Cassiel!

  That couldn’t have been him! I-I don’t think I sifted. Maybe I’m going insane. Seems likely, really, given the circumstances.

  Or’ic grabs me and spins me to face him. “Who was there? Who did you see?” he asks sternly, only now restraining himself because we’re being watched. “You would answer me now or I would punish you severely.”

  Wow. There’s the alien I first met. Deadly intent. Terrifying.

  “I-I don’t know. I think I sifted,” I fib. I really am worried about insanity, actually.

  King and Lt. Lazarus here? Get real. ESE is good, but it’s actually impossible for them to have flown here in time in our ships.

  “My Prime, she did not sift. There was no energy,” says Kell’an.

  I have decided I going to call Kell’an “Thorn” from here on out, short for thorn in my side.

  Or’ic’s grip on my arm is so tight he’s bruising me.

  “Ow,” I say, intending to make a scene. He’s getting to know me better because he narrows his eyes, releases my arm, and says, “Do not dare.”

  I spin around and we regroup in a semi-composed state, then head to our room. But he hasn’t given up. He walks so close behind me I can feel him on my heel.

  “You would answer me truthfully, or experience pain later. Your choice,” he says very quietly.

  I go with a lie that coincides with my urge to cry. I say, walking, staring straight ahead, “A woman. I saw a woman who reminded me of someone I knew.”

  “Who?” he asks skeptically.

  “My dead mother,” I say in a shaky voice.

  I guess that put an end to his suspicions. So much for the measure of independence they have been pretending to give me, I think, resenting the control he exerts over me. All the way back, my rage is dampened by my fear of being insane. It’s okay to long for something so much you think it’s happening, right? I was just imagining King and Lt. Lazarus were here because I want so desperately to be rescued.

  One thing is for certain. Clearly I need to sleep well tonight. I’m slotted to fly first thing in the morning, and nobody flies well without proper rest. After my test, Or’ic’s test follows. Then we will be on our way to Taxata! Not long now, Cassiel, just a few more obstacles.

  I’ve been sizing up my flight competition as my Kirs have spotted and pointed them out to me. You can gauge a pilot’s capacity to some extent based on his personality. I learned this over the years through Daz. Knowing certain things about Thell’eons, and having gone over the test parameters and every maneuver known, I’m mulling over a risky tactic.

  The flight test itself is a race against the clock through a set course (more like a set quadrant of space that is chalk a block with obstacles, hiding places and more) that begins and ends in the largest loading bay on the IP (Intergalactic Planet) surrounded with an audience as high as the eye can see. They watch the flying that occurs in space as it’s captured by a technology, like a record-history, in little satts scattered throughout the course and played out in real-time on a massive ceiling screen.

  The goal is to reach the finish line before the others. Those 10th and under are automatically ‘omitted’ from Horde status. Oh, we also fire on each other. But it’s not real firepower. It’s the one test where the Order makes an exception to authenticity because they can’t afford to have damaged ships. No tiny relief there. You know you’ve been hit when the ship’s rendered powerless. It’s been programmed to shut down upon ‘enemy’ fire.

  I should be fine. I will be fine. Tenth place is a piece of cake. Anyway, we’re doing fine in the rankings so far, and I’d bet my only pair of pants that the Order would let us go to Taxata regardless.

  I just don’t want to be paired with another Horde, that’s my only real concern for the time being. And sin
ce Or’ic’s Horde is doing so well, there’s little chance of that I tell myself. Plus, the Order needs me. None of the other sifts have been able to locate the missing one. I could always barter my services, worst-case scenario . . .

  I’m thinking positive thoughts just like this when, as we arrive at the entrance to our room, I’m yanked back and shoved behind Kell’an. Before I can protest, my Kirs have taken up defensive postures around me. Peering between Or’ic and Kell’an, I search for what, or who, could create such a reaction.

  Another Horde.

  They seem to take up the entire room, and act like they own it. Two are leaning against downcores. Another three are standing against a wall. Wait, my eyes finally land on the piece that doesn’t fit, a sixth person. A she. Wow. She puts the ‘S’ on he. I never thought to ask about the gender of the other three Horde sifters. I don’t know why, but this pleases me greatly. I suppose she has come to meet the new sift. Terrific!

  I can’t help but gawk at her. She’s all limbs and boobs and ass. In fact, I’ve never seen a more curviliciously proportioned woman in my life, just giant-sized. Seriously, she’s got to be seven foot five. Hair as black and smooth as oil rises up out of her perfect, heart-shaped face and falls in sheets around her broad shoulders. Her white skin’s ever so translucent. Cat-like bronze eyes give me one hunter-proficient scan. Her perfectly pink, round mouth, turns ugly when her upper lip curls ever so slightly in disgust. At me.

  Oh.

  She crosses muscular arms over her oozing chest, and her incredible arsenal of weapons seems to shift to adapt to the switch in position.

  Envy, over her weapons, no doubt earned from fighting Aeon, rears up in me. Her Kirs are equally threatening as mine.

  “Fluff,” she says.

  It takes a second for me to realize she’s both acknowledging and addressing me.

  My right eyebrow shoots up. Fluff? Did she just call me fluff?

  She eyes Kell’an and Or’ic, a tad too long, a tad too sluttily, if you ask me, before focusing back on me with a sneer. Wow. Her incisors are tiny sharp blades. Wonder what she uses those for. So much for being kindred spirits in arms.

  I push past Or’ic and Kell’an sensing I need to claim something, though what, I’m not sure.

  She unfolds her muscular arms. And that’s when the sneer disappears. She peers more closely at me. Then a look of awareness overcomes her features, and in that soft moment, I swear I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful. She’d be girl-crush material, if she hadn’t called me ‘fluff,’ that is.

  She moves like a hunter or a ghostly hunter, floating right up to me.

  “Hmmm,” she purrs. “You don’t know me, do you?” she asks, taunting me, delighted about this fact. Not so beautiful again.

  I glance at Or’ic, uncertain whether I should cop to this truth.

  One of her Kirs checks her with an admonishing grunt that I realize contained the word, “Aelita.” I wonder if he’s her Prime. His handsomeness is spread even, the kind that unfolds greater with each glance.

  He notices my gawking and stands straighter.

  I glance back at this Aelita the same moment that Kell’an steps forward, slightly blocking my view to her Prime. I’m worried Aelita will be pissed about her Prime peacocking me, but there’s something else. A seriousness in her face, which is taut.

  “I want to talk to you now. Alone.”

  Her language translates into perfect present tense English. I wonder what kind of species she is.

  I peer up at Or’ic, wondering what he’ll say, but he’s oddly silently.

  “You do not need his permission,” she scolds me. “Leave us. Everyone. NOW.”

  I glance at my Kirs, thinking there’s going to be trouble, but they look to me. Oh. They’re pretending to let me lead. Oh. So I save face. How considerate.

  “You may leave,” I say quietly.

  I bet Kell’an could murder right now.

  Finally, alone, well, alone from men, a lightness emboldens me, even with a barracuda practically stalking me. She steps around me in two graceful strides. Again, I get the sense she’s really enjoying this.

  “I believe you do not yet know me. I am sifter Aelita of the Bra’sin Horde.”

  “I’m Cassiel Winters,” I answer, thinking maybe there’s chance for us yet. I smile. She takes this in, unable to believe her situation, I think.

  “I know well who you are. We have met before,” she adds.

  I pause for a moment trying think it through. The only explanation is that we’ve met in the future, which would mean it would have been in another dimension. Holy crap. Is this shit really happening to me? I don’t know what frightens me more, that I leapt to the most obvious, and far out, conclusion, or that I haven’t woken up yet from this nightmare.

  She leans back and moves smoothly over to a downcore. She picks up a discarded knife holster, rubs the design with her thumb, before tossing it back onto the downcore.

  “I’m probably going to regret this, but something doesn’t feel right in the universes with Cassiel Winters not on her game. You know your Kirs don’t control you, right?” she asks, condemnation mixed with contempt. “As sift, you lead.”

  Uh, well, I kind of guessed this. Weird that I should feel kind of embarrassed right now.

  “Sure. I guess,” I say. “It’s not like I’m here by choice,” I add, thinking, maybe, just maybe, she can help me escape.

  Aelita laughs again. Then says, bored like, “That’ll change.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Not important. Theoretically, I should not even be contemplating this. It is against sifter code to interfere with the future. But in this case, I am making an exception.”

  There’s a sifter code? Interfere with the future? I want to ask about this but she keeps on talking. Fast.

  “Believe me, this is not about me doing you any favors ever,” she says, almost to herself.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Let’s just say we don’t get along. Never have.”

  “Well . . . maybe this is a chance to start over,” I say, meaning it. “We’re in the same boat, I presume. I mean how did your Kirs convince you to do their bidding? Threaten to murder a loved one? Break a few limbs? Together, maybe we could get out of this . . .”

  I trail off. Her face is twisted in rage. She shudders, like she can’t believe what she’s hearing.

  “I knew coming here, messing with the past would be risky. But to see you, like this, cowardly, almost makes me regret my decision. And I never regret my decisions.”

  She stares me down for a moment. “Make no mistake, Fluff, I do not do their bidding. They do my bidding. I have killed hundreds of Aeon. I am the greatest sifter that ever was.”

  Whoa. Power tripper. I watch her shake with energy. She takes a deep inhalation and continues.

  “Now, you obviously have no real understanding of what is at stake here. Yet. I will forgive you this suggestion of treachery this one time. But if you ever, ever, speak of such things again, I will eat you.”

  My eyes bug out. She’s not kidding. Guess that’s what her teeth are for.

  “Well, what are you here for then?”

  “Ah, that’s better. The way it should be,” she murmurs approvingly at my bite. “I am here to give you a warning. When you find the sift, do not do what you intend to do.”

  My mouth pops open.

  “I find the sift?”

  She rolls her eyes.

  “How? Where is he?”

  “If I knew how you found him, I would have found him myself, wouldn’t I?” she hisses.

  “Well, what do you mean by, ‘don’t do what I intend to do’ then? At least explain what you mean!”

  “I can not be more detailed t
han that. But when the time comes, you will understand what it is I am saying.”

  I stare at her, baffled.

  She sighs. “Just, whatever you think is the right thing to do, when you find the sift, just . . . I do not know, think twice about it.”

  She seems almost vulnerable in this moment, stumbling over her words.

  “This is still messing with the future, you know,” I say snidely. Wow, her attitude is contagious. “And since you have, you may as well do it properly and tell me everything.”

  “No. No, it is not!” she says defensively. “All I have done is introduced myself and told one piece of truth you need to know.”

  “Uh, no, you haven’t. What’s the truth?”

  “That you are NOT always fucking right! You remember that, Fluff!”

  Yep. She is definitely upset that she’s risked coming here. I suspect it’s not going as planned.

  She wisps unearthly out of the room before I can stop her. I’m actually relieved she’s gone. That is, until I’m up against a wall with Or’ic’s hand around my neck. He’s holding it tight enough to make a point. My Kirs are back in the room, and not one lifts a finger to come to my rescue, naturally.

  His black eyes stare into mine, possessively. I ignore the sensation this creates as he leans near my ear. “You would tell me everything that was said, or would I enter your mind and not leave until I find it. Your choice. I would give you three seconds. One . . . two . . .”

  “She said I find the sift. But, she didn’t say how.”

  Or’ic’s eyes widen a smidge. Then they narrow.

  “And?”

  Damn. I thought this information would be enough.

  “She would not come here to tell you just that! I would start to count again, one . . . two . . .”

  I don’t want him in my mind. No way. And I’m confused and disturbed about what Aelita said anyway. What harm could it do?

  “Apparently, I need to second guess my actions when I find the sift. I think she was trying to change the future without changing it. She’s left me a riddle, okay?”