Wave Mandate

by Schneider, A. C.

  “Kelerin’s right,” agreed Jonas. “Were talking about an entire moon and we don’t even know where to start looking.”

  Orisius hung his head in thought. This was not the outcome he was hoping for.

  “Ahem, I believe I have information that can help with both your issues, if the Headmaster is big enough to accept that he might need to hear what the Prophecy’s Search & Rescue efforts have uncovered.” They all looked over to find Mother Panthea still waiting in the same spot she retreated to earlier, her drawn back hood revealing an unmistakable expression of, I told you so.

  Chapter 34: Slingshot

  The Prophecy - docking bay, Caras 1

  “So that’s Teacher Jonas? The one who’s like family, the one you were telling me about?”

  “Yes,” Kelerin answered under his breath.

  “He’s like your mentor.” It was a verifying statement that Kelerin allowed to hang there uncontested, hoping to discourage further conversation. Analel chose to ignore his non response.

  “And that’s Valix. The one we went up against in the duel. He’s sort of your arch rival, isn’t he? Your nemesis?”

  “What’re you writing a book?”

  Kelerin spoke in low tones while eyeing Jonas and Valix to see if they were picking up on any of this. The three of them were waiting together inside the Prophecy’s docking bay corridor just outside one of many skybridges connecting the complex to ships in drydock. The ship on the other end of this particular skybridge was the now famous cruiser that served as Jonas’ home for the last two years, the only cruiser yet to make it back from the Mandate Race. Officially the Blumbrock, that name had been very obviously ‘X’ed out with a heavy coat of bright red paint - the name Nesher, the unofficial name of the ship and the one used by its crew and others, now scrawled above the ‘X’ in the same bold color. Orisius insisted they take the cruiser to attack the Aberration base. Jonas thought it a bit risky but the Headmaster was more concerned with leaving the ship lying around at an obvious location. Considering what happened to the supposedly impregnable Academy, Jonas found himself hard pressed to disagree.

  “I’m just trying to get some context,” explained Analel, “Put names to faces.”

  “Now is not the time or place, Prophet.”

  Silence.

  “Are you embarrassed by me?”

  “You were there in that meeting room,” Kelerin said, slightly exasperated. “You heard what Valix accused me of.”

  “But it’s not true.”

  “Appearances matter right now, alright. I just don’t think we should be drawing attention to our... unique situation.”

  Silence.

  “Analel?”

  “Whatever you say.”

  He felt bad but what was he supposed to do. “You have to admit. This whole thing is a little weird.”

  “It’s something.” Analel preferred his first characterization of unique.

  The ensuing awkward silence was broken by the footsteps of Orisius and Halbard heard approaching from further down the corridor. Jonas had been asked to wait with Kelerin and Valix at the cruiser’s docking port to make sure the two Students didn’t tear each other’s heads off, while the Headmaster and Halbard went to pick up a few things from the ship they flew up in. The Headmaster was now returning with Halbard who carried a shoulder pack with him, presumably filled with whatever odds and ends the Headmaster felt necessary for the upcoming mission.

  “What’s the word on your Prophet?” asked Orisius of Jonas when he reached them. “The sooner we can get underway the better.”

  “She’ll be here shortly.”

  “Good,” turning to Kelerin, “and this friend of yours. You’re sure he’s up to the task.”

  When Mother Panthea explained that the Prophecy had made contact with a Student planted inside the Aberration base, Kelerin knew right away it was Dunner. He didn’t know how he knew, he just did. Still, he went a little weak in the knees with relief when he heard Mother Panthea say Dunner’s name aloud. “If there’s one person on Osmos who can frustrate any and all contingencies, even the most carefully laid plans, it’s Dunner.”

  “Glad to hear it, so long as it’s the enemy’s plans he’s frustrating and not ours.”

  “No promises there, Headmaster.”

  Orisius laughed. He was impressed with the young Student’s ability to remain calm in the face of all that’s transpired. Seeming then and there to come to a decision he’d been mulling over for some time, the Headmaster nodded to Professor Halbard, who in turn, reached into the pack he was carrying and produced a Professor-Class Wave Whip. He presented the Whip to Jonas, holding the top blue half and extending the white bottom half for Jonas to take. Jonas gawked, not quite believing what the gesture implied.

  “Take it, Professor,” said Orisius, a mentor’s pride softening his lined features.

  “But I didn’t pass any of the examinations?”

  “You didn’t take any of the examinations. You would’ve passed with honors. I was planning on having you take them the moment I heard of your return, but extenuating circumstances being what they were interceded. We lost a lot of good Academics and we don’t have the luxury right now to stand on ceremony, Jonas. Take the Whip.”

  The newly ordained Professor accepted, switching it to his left hand and pulling his old Teacher-Class Whip from its sheath with his right. “What should I do with this?”

  “Well, I believe Kelerin already has his Teacher-Class Wave Whip. That only leaves Valix.”

  Both Kelerin and Valix perked up at that. Valix said, “Wait a minute, we both made Faculty?”

  “Like I said, unfortunately we find ourselves understaffed at the moment. Thankfully, there are no other candidates I’d rather see stepping in to fill the void. The way you’ve handled yourselves has been exemplary and we would be honored to have you join our Academic Faculty.”

  Valix took the Whip and both he and Kelerin thanked the Headmaster profusely.

  “Can I at least say congratulations?”

  A thin smile snuck its way onto Kelerin lips as he acknowledged Analel’s attempt to bury the injury of their last conversation with friendly sarcasm. ”Yes,” he answered quietly, “but just this once.”

  “You’re too kind.” Then, her tone suddenly changing, “Hold on a second. Why is she here?”

  Kelerin’s smile vanished as he searched the corridor. “Who?”

  “My mother.”

  Sure enough, a Prophet Mother was approaching down the long corridor, her long gray cloak concealing most of what would be her defining characteristics, save for two straight locks of hair falling free from her hood and framing either side of her face. They were of a deep burgundy red, their color reminding Kelerin of the flowerbed patches that used to adorn the slopes of Academy Island. Even though he could only see a tiny bit of the woman under the cloak, it was clear she was beautiful and Kelerin found himself wondering for the first time what Analel herself might look like. “Just to clarify,” he asked, trying to sound less interested than he actually was, “are we talking about one of your Prophecy Mothers, or your mother mother?”

  “Stop confusing me. I have to hear this.”

  Jonas seemed to sense Erin’s presence long before the rest of the group, second only to Analel. She walked straight up to him.

  “Mother.”

  “Teacher.”

  “Actually it’s Professor now.”

  “Really!” Erin’s eyes lit up. She was genuinely excited for him, maybe more so than he was for himself. This woman’s special, he found himself thinking, and she deserves more, a lot more.

  So much passed between the two of them and yet too much was left unsaid, verbally or otherwise. Unfortunately there was no time for any of it to be explored. Orisius was in a hurry. He came up to them both and broke into their private moment, either not noticing or not caring. “Jonas tells me you’re the only one who can open this particular panel, Mother.” He indicated the entrance to the sky
bridge leading to the cruiser.

  “That’s correct,” she said, taking on an air of professionalism. “When I locked this panel I synched its Reader with a specific Thought Wave of mine. Only my repeating that same Thought Wave can open it.” Even before she finished speaking the panel slid into its wall sheath, the length of the skybridge sprawling out before them.

  The Headmaster performed a double-take from the opened panel to Erin. “That seemed a bit easy for what you claim to be a high level of security,” he challenged.

  “When a lock and key are so singularly matched, why shouldn’t it be easy?” Erin was looking directly at Jonas while she spoke.

  “Indeed,” Orisius grunted. “Thank you Mother…”

  “Erin,” she reminded.

  “Yes, of course.”

  Kelerin turned aside and addressed Analel quietly. “So your mother’s name is Erin?”

  “Who’s the one writing a book now?”

  “Listen, your mother still thinks you cheated and I never cleared my name. We can sort this whole thing out right here and now.”

  “How?”

  “Show them that you’re Prophesying for me even though you’re still in quarantine. We can prove it to them.”

  Orisius was still coordinating things with the Prophet Mother. “Will you please see to it that we have five Prophets ready for us when we complete the Slingshot run?”

  “Um, only four,” Kelerin interjected awkwardly. “I have one already.”

  “You do?” The Headmaster asked, skeptically.

  Kelerin looked directly at Erin. “Yes. There’s one that’s been Prophesying for me this entire time.” Erin’s mouth opened ever so slightly in shock as comprehension set in.

  “Four then,” Orisius corrected, not catching on to what was being conveyed by Kelerin to the Prophet Mother. “Now, Academics, I believe we have an appointment with a raiding outfit.” Orisius stepped through the entranceway onto the skybridge. Halbard followed close behind, then Kelerin, who shot Erin one last look in case she doubted what he meant. Jonas was the last one still standing there.

  “We have to talk.”

  After Kelerin’s revelation Mother Erin was in no position to handle an honest assessment of what was going on between her and Jonas. “We will, when you get back.”

  “Will you be the one Prophesying for me?”

  “I can’t. I’m due up on Stormwatch.” She thought of Analel still in quarantine. Her daughter was telling the truth this entire time! She felt terrible for not believing her, for how she treated her - her own daughter. How could she just leave her in quarantine now? But she had no choice. Some things were nonnegotiable and a Stormwatch shift was one of them. Besides, there wasn’t enough time to explain things to the Grand Mother with everything that was going on. She would have to sort things out with Shasah later, and then, with Analel.

  Jonas was obviously dejected but he didn’t press the matter. “I understand. Till I get back, then.” He turned, disappearing down the gangway of the skybridge. Erin looked on after him, realizing then that another emotionally charged, open ended matter had just run away from her.

  *****

  Catching up with the other Academics at the cruiser’s hatch, Jonas found them all waiting for him to arrive to open up the ship for them. As a former member of the original crew, he was the only one present currently bio-synched to its systems. “Xervio left?” he asked the Headmaster while placing a hand on an access panel to the hatch’s right. The panel read his palm print and the hatch depressurized, popping up and away from the hull. “A short while ago,” answered Orisius. “He went ahead to requisition three Monitors and as many squads from his Anti-Raider Unit. I made up to meet with them after the Slingshot run.”

  Jonas stepped aside to allow Orisius through first. “Only three?”

  “We’re five Academics, Professor,” explained Orisius as he brushed by Jonas and entered the cruiser, “I doubt we’ll be needing even those.”

  Following the Headmaster was Halbard, Valix and Kelerin, who received an encouraging squeeze of the shoulder by Jonas, the last to fall into step behind the entourage. The room they entered was a prep station filled with lockers and equipment strewn about haphazardly. Helmets and Hull-Walk suits could be seen hanging halfway out open lockers, the occasional rappelling belt tossed over a bench.

  “After two years between drydocks the little disciplines are the first to go,” commented Jonas by way of explanation, “and our captain’s health was in a very precarious state when we arrived, so you’ll have to excuse the mess.” Orisius’ answering grunt made clear his skepticism of whether the noncommissioned crew had any discipline at all to begin with.

  The mess wasn’t the most jarring sight in the room, though. What really caught everyone’s attention were the pock marks on nearly every wall. Battle scars. One look told an entirely different story than the romanticized versions of the Mandate Race most Islanders knew and consumed daily, perpetuated by various Island media outlets, many with stakes in the Race’s outcome.

  But time for sightseeing was scarce. Jonas made his way to the far entrance and the rest followed. He led them through a new corridor that wrapped around the entire periphery of the ship, an express access route allowing crew members to quickly pass from one key section of cruiser to another without having to navigate a cluttered, internal floor plan.

  Jonas called over his shoulder to his company, “We call this access path the Ring. It’ll take us directly to the bridge.” They walked on for a near full minute passing multiple doors on their left. The group was curious but none ventured a peak. They followed their guide dutifully until eventually arriving at a final panel at the far end of the pathway. Jonas punched down on its access depressor. The panel opened and he walked inside. The rest followed.

  This ship’s bridge was dramatically larger than the one Kelerin had seen on the Miner. Its front-facing wall was made up entirely of crystalline glass paneling, inlaid by crisscrossing metal support beams. Thirteen individual swivel cockpits, each mounted on rotating circular sections of floor, were spaced out in semicircle formation with respect to each other; six cockpits on either side and the thirteenth at the back center so that the mouth of the semicircle formation opened to face the forward viewing glass. Individual cockpits were pear-shaped enclosures open at the top and entered by mounting its short walls. The interiors were touch-sensitive affording the operator 180 of touch-screen working space. In addition to the individual workspaces of the cockpits, the semicircle formation was built around a fully circular holostage offering bridge-wide simulation of all media and communications.

  Valix whistled as he entered, his head swiveling about like the cockpits he would soon be occupying, taking in the entirety of the bridge in all its sleek grandeur. “Good ol’ Blumbrock, spared no expense, did he Professor?” Kelerin was similarly impressed but his expression of it carried far less bravado and far more wonderment. For a brief moment he was a kid again witnessing a WateRen demonstration for the very first time.

  Jonas and Halbard took up the front most seats to the right and left of the bridge, respectively. As soon as they mounted and sat down in their cockpits the wall displays lit up and their floor circles whirred to life, intuiting which way they intended to face and swiveling in that direction. The Headmaster sat in the thirteenth chair, typically reserved for the captain. He beckoned for Kelerin and Valix to take up seats to his right and left. Although he already saw it happen with the others when they sat down, the experience of the cockpit coming to life, its reacting to his intentions like another limb, was both startling and exhilarating for Kelerin.

  “More than a Headmaster relies on his Whip or his skill set,” remarked Orisius, sagely, “he relies on his dedicated Faculty.” Resting heavy eyebrows on Valix and Kelerin, he continued for their benefit, “I’m trusting that I can rely on you boys.”

  “You can with me, Headmaster,” Valix assured.

  “With both of us,” added Kele
rin, seeing how Valix, as usual, spoke only for himself.

  “Good.” Directing his attention to the Professors, he said, “Jonas, I’m assuming you have some inclination of how to fly this tremendous drain on Castious’ tax revenue.”

  “Not as well as the former captain, but well enough to get us to where we’re going.”

  “That’s all I ask. Halbard is not a bad pilot himself. He’s never had experience on this particular system so he’ll assist you as best he can.”

  Halbard tilted his head in confirmation to Jonas who returned the gesture. Facing Orisius and seeing him sitting in the seat that for so long belonged to Gensala, Jonas’ expression clouded over.

  “Whenever you’re ready, Professor,” said the Headmaster, catching Jonas’ reverie, intuiting its source with keen insight and not having any of it.

  Jonas shook his head clear and swiveled around to face the glass. Running his hands along the inner wall of his cockpit, he began reciting orders and updates to Halbard. “Disengage skybridge, Professor.”

  Halbard made his own gestures and returned updates of his progress to Jonas. “Skybridge disengaged.”

  “Initiating lift ignition.”

  Kelerin braced himself for the jerk of sudden thrust. None came and he wondered briefly if something were wrong, only to hear Halbard begin calling off altitude several long seconds later: “30,000 kilometers… 50,000… 75… approaching the Storm Field now.”

  Entering the Storm Field was always a surreal experience for pilots. Outside the glass visibility was one hundred percent, but that didn’t mean the unseen residue of the Antenna Storm wasn’t all around them, permeating as it did throughout Caras 1’s lower orbit. And because the field was comprised primarily of highly charged Wave Thoughts, its penetrative qualities were complete, passing through all physical barriers within the affected radius. All throughout the bridge, periodic flashes of iridescent colors appeared, electrifying the air so that everyone could feel the Stormwatcher’s presence riding on the currents and monitoring their passage. It was a vulnerable and unsettling feeling with silence prevailing throughout the bridge while it lasted.