Four Worlds

by Maureen A. Miller

  His teasing was light. The gravity in his eyes was not.

  “That won’t happen again,” she assured.

  “Aimee—” he started.

  “I’ll personally accompany her to the deck,” Raja guaranteed.

  Zak glanced at the garments clutched against Aimee’s chest and nodded. “Sure you don’t want me to assist you with those?”

  Aimee laughed and swatted at him. “Go,” she commanded. “Before I take you up on that.”

  Once Zak left the room, Raja crossed her arms and chuckled. “You two are so perfect together.”

  “Like you and Craig?”

  Cocking her head, the blonde woman smiled coyly. “Yes, perhaps as perfect as us.”

  Aimee leaned forward to embrace her friend.

  After a moment, Raja drew back and stared at her levelly. “Now, what did you want to talk to me about? Are you feeling okay?” Her eyes dropped to Aimee’s abdomen. “Everything did check out. There were no ill effects from your time outside the airlock.”

  “Yes, yes. The baby moved before. Zak got to feel it.”

  Raja clapped her hands together. “That’s wonderful.”

  “And I’d like you to look at Zak’s eyes again.”

  “Of course. I already have a tonic I would like to test on him. I’ve had positive results with some Watchers who had their sight stolen from the Korons.”

  Aimee drew in a deep breath, relieved. “Oh, thank you. That would be great.” She paused, deliberating over her other apprehension. Finally, she just let it out. “I’m worried about you.”

  “Me?” Raja’s palm flattened against her chest. “Why?”

  “Your expression when you mentioned Anthum. I could see it in your eyes, Raja. You’re afraid. Why?”

  Raja retreated a step. Her glance fled to the purple potted plant beside the bed. It glared back at her.

  “What is there to be afraid of? Everyone says Anthum is perfect. My parents talked about how lovely it was right up until the moment they—”

  “Oh Raja,” Aimee murmured sadly. “You blame that planet. You blame it for taking them from you.”

  Blue eyes flashed. “That planet left me an orphan,” she whispered. “How am I supposed to feel?”

  Aimee parted her lips, but Raja continued.

  “Zak was an orphan, but he had a face—an identity—a group he could blame for his family’s demise. He had something tangible he could go after for revenge—and he got it. He got his revenge.” Raja hesitated. “I don’t want to go back to Anthum.” Her hands trembled. “I am a child of the Horus. This is where I belong.”

  “Don’t you see, Raja? You have already exacted your revenge. You created the serum to fend off the very same disease that claimed your parents. You have made Anthum safe to return to.” Aimee slipped her hand in a purposeful arc. “And you are not bound to the Horus. You are not afraid to leave it. Look at how brave you were to travel to Earth, a planet you knew nothing about. And you thrived there. You found love there. You will thrive wherever you go because you are daring, intelligent, and so strong.”

  “Strong.” Raja snorted. “That’s not a trait I would pin on myself.”

  “Anthum didn’t take your parents,” Aimee affirmed. “Don’t blame a planet.”

  Raja’s shoulders slumped. “I know. I’m just very edgy about this. Returning to Anthum was supposed to be a choice. Chara returned to Anthum, but she is older. She recalled it the way it was.”

  “Do you think given the chance, that your parents would have returned there?”

  It was a sober question. Raja respected people who asked hard questions. She met Aimee’s stare head on.

  “Yes. I believe they would have.”

  “Then you would be honoring them by going back to Anthum. They would probably be very proud to know that you have returned to your homeland.”

  The air between them was heavy for a moment as Raja dipped her head.

  “You’re right,” she conceded. “I would be honoring them.” Testing out the word, her head lifted and her blue eyes flashed vibrantly. “I can find their home and—and—say some words.”

  “Yes,” Aimee smiled.

  “Do you think Craig will like it?”, Raja asked.

  “Will like what?” A tall figure stepped into the doorway.

  “His new uniform that he must wear,” Aimee inserted, screwing up her nose and laughing.

  Craig studied both of their faces, but eventually let loose a chuckle. “Not you too.” He noticed the clothes she clutched to her chest. “You caved in so easily, Aimee.”

  “She needs to be monitored. You need to be monitored. I don’t want anything happening to you on Anthum.”

  Reading the urgency in Raja’s expression, Craig relaxed some. He sauntered over to her and touched her chin. “I like it when you’re concerned about me.”

  Raja tried to maintain an air of censure, but her lips curled up into a grin.

  “I like it when you listen.”

  Aimee pawed at her outfit and nudged her elbow towards the door. “I’ll do like Zak. I’ll just head back to our room and change.”

  “Don’t leave on my account,” Craig finally glanced her way. “I just came to report that all the Anthum ore has been secured, separate from the synthetic ore.”

  “Is the currency even worth anything back on Anthum?” Raja asked. “It was used here because the ore was valuable due to its low commodity, but the ore should be plentiful on Anthum.”

  “Good question,” Aimee injected. “What will happen to those who are presumably rich on the Horus?”

  “As I’m told, there will be a bit of an honor system, but for a brief period. Currency on Anthum is a moot point, Vodu says. All citizens will be given the same opportunities. Call me cynical, but I’ll be helping to maintain a structure just in case.”

  Aimee smiled. How amazing was it that Craig had assumed an enforcement role on the Horus, and was adapting to the community so readily?

  They were interrupted by an agitated JOH that whipped into the room, nearly causing a tailspin.

  “Aimee, Raja, Craig,” JOH rushed. “Zak has asked for you to come to the deck.”

  Alarmed, Aimee asked, “Can I talk to him through this suit?” She held the garment in the air.

  “Yes, but it must be on you,” JOH replied, already bobbing towards the door like an impatient puppy, needing to go outside.

  “Okay,” she fingered the pearlescent garment. “Did he say if something was wrong?”

  “No,” JOH swung around impatiently. “Zak is a man of few words.”

  Amen to that.

  “We’ll step outside and let you change, and then we’ll head up to the bridge,” Raja suggested.

  Aimee nodded, snapping out the top garment, holding it up in the air for inspection. It glittered. It beguiled. It would protect Zon.

  ***

  Aimee spotted the memorable dark uniform amidst the throng of silver suits on the bridge of the Horus. She shouldered her way through the crowd to reach him.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  Zak glanced up from a hologram. One look into that dark glance, and she knew something terrible had happened. Her throat clenched.

  “What is it?” she choked out a whisper.

  His expression softened at the sight of her, and he reached for her hand, coaxing her away from the melee.

  “The Horus is weakening,” he reported solemnly.

  “Yes, we already established that—what happened now?”

  His hand swept to the abstract light field that captured a three-dimensional rendering of the Horus. Its razorblade structure with attached circular satellites was beginning to look like a puzzle missing critical corner pieces.

  Searching that graphic, it finally registered to her that something significant was absent from the fore end of the ship. Something massive. Something vital.

  The launch bay.

  “Zak!” she cried out in denial and grabbed the conso
le to ward off inertia. “How could this happen?”

  Instead of serving her up a bunch of platitudes, Zak started right in on his assessment.

  “The Horus is built primarily of an alloy similar to what you call carbon. The main chassis of the ship was constructed many rens ago. Towards the end, assembly was rushed due to the urgency to leave Anthum. Some portions of the ship were not able to go through the ablation process.”

  “Ablation,” Aimee repeated. “That’s some form of vaporization.”

  “Correct. It’s a method primarily used to control temperature, particularly on entry into atmospheres. It shouldn’t be an issue in deep space, but perhaps damage occurred long ago—upon takeoff, and now, years of space storms, and the recent sensor failure proved the catalyst. These last additions to the ship, namely the launch bay, are vulnerable.”

  Aimee stared in horror at the gaping chasm where the launch bay used to dispatch majestic terra angels. It hurled strapping Warriors into battle with the Korons, and any other threat to the mighty guardianship. And the far greater purpose of missions to seek out possible cures to the virus that plagued the misplaced Anthumians.

  “Did we,” she hesitated, reaching for her pendant, “did we lose anyone?”

  “No, no. They had enough of a warning to evacuate, but it did happen fast.”

  “What other regions of the ship missed the ablation process? What additional vulnerabilities are we looking at?”

  Zak pointed at the few remaining satellite spheres, and then his finger hovered a second before landing on a box-like structure clinging to the back of the ship, like one Lego piece too many.

  “The waste facility.”

  Salvan worked in the waste facility.

  “Has it been evacuated?” she asked.

  “Yes.” He read her troubled expression and added, “We’re close now. Close to Anthum.”

  Aimee glanced around the flight deck. Many of the uniforms were scarred with yellow stains across the abdominal region. Nerves, Raja would proclaim. Looking down, she was relieved to see her new uniform remained silver.

  “Well, I guess you won’t be shuttling me into any terra angels against my will,” she quipped with forced humor. “We’re all in this together now.”

  Zak shook his head. His gaze lingered, dropping to her chest as his sober features relaxed. “You look good in that.”

  Even after all these years, Aimee felt heat steal into her cheeks over the praise. It was a two-piece outfit, with comfortable pants that offered room for her growing girth, and the loose top fell fancifully around her waist. The chest was form-fitting, revealing the ample curves, and the material clung to her abdomen snugly enough to analyze her organs, yet still offer comfort.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled, dusting her fingers across the glittery material.

  “There is a landing plan in the works right now,” Zak stated. “An organized means to relocate everyone to the safest quadrants of the ship in preparation for touchdown.”

  “Who is planning this? Who is piloting this beast to the ground? You’ve been in space for rens. Is anyone on board qualified? The Warriors? They only know how to fly terra angels, right?”

  “Aimee,” he cautioned in a deep tone. “Don’t get riled.”

  “I’m not getting riled.” She scanned the worried expressions around her and felt their anxiety seep into her. “I just want to know, Zak. I want to know what to anticipate. I want to know how it works.”

  “I know you do,” he replied patiently. “We still have some time. I’ll take you to the command tower, but you have to stay quiet—no questions.” His eyebrow dipped.

  “Command tower?” she exclaimed. “I thought this was the command center.”

  “It is.” Zak searched over her head and she followed his gaze.

  Vodu was stooped over the shoulder of helmsperson, their conversation an intense one as judged by their rigid posture.

  “If Vodu is here, then this is the command tower. He is the commander.”

  Taking hold of her elbow, Zak whispered, “Follow me.”

  Zak guided her away from the bank of windows towards the inner wall. She stared at that monotonous gray surface, unable to discern any structural anomalies like the corridors outside.

  Pitching a shoulder against the stark surface, Zak crossed his arms. One ankle was hooked over the other in indifference. In contrast of the casual stance, his sharp eyes studied those nearby. Satisfied that everyone was preoccupied, he grabbed her hand and sucked her through the wall.

  Aimee stared at the gray void, her eyes blinking repeatedly. She felt as if she was in a vacuum. The din of the busy command deck was gone and all she could hear was her own breath and the blood pumping in her ears.

  “Where are we?” she whispered.

  “This way.”

  The grip on her hand kept her steady when she felt as if these amorphous walls were closing in on her.

  “Vodu would have my head if he caught me bringing you up here.”

  “Then why are you bringing me up here?”

  In a veil of smoke, Zak turned to face her. “Because I love you.”

  Aimee’s mouth formed a small ‘o’, but there was no time to respond. Zak was tugging her along again.

  “Hold on,” he ordered.

  As there was nothing of substance around them, she held onto him, curling her fingers around his forearm as she sensed they had begun climbing.

  “Are we going up? There are no stairs.”

  “It’s an incline, yes. This abstruse corridor was designed to conceal this chamber. You will be at the highest point of the Horus soon.”

  Really?

  Trepidation was replaced with zeal. Curiosity and the desire for knowledge were a feverish drug to her.

  Zak ducked his head and stepped forward. Instinctively, she mimicked him. A small gasp dusted across her lips as they emerged into an innovative crow’s nest. It was spherical and compact, completely enclosed in glass. Aimee glanced up through the transparent dome at the vast netherworld. In front of her stood a flat console, approximately eight feet long, with three spherical chairs before it. The three chairs were occupied by two men and a woman, all in silver suits that reflected shades of blue from the console. No one turned at the intrusion.

  Adroit fingers manipulated the images that hovered atop the console. The first facsimile Aimee recognized as the planet, Anthum. The man spun the sphere around, his finger tracing along land patterns. Beside this were transparent depictions of the Horus. The woman was tugging the ship apart, five pieces hanging independently in the air.

  A thousand questions pounded inside Aimee’s head, but when she parted her lips to ask, Zak held a finger to his mouth.

  Trying to remain mute, she studied the control panel, knowing that much of its circuitry remained invisible until called upon. Still, the thought of a ship the size of the Horus being navigated from such a tiny room marveled her.

  One of the pilots turned around. A male. He had an aged face with wise gray eyes and white-winged eyebrows.

  “Zak,” he said in a hushed voice, slicing a look at his comrades. They remained glued to their tasks. “It’s good to see you up here. You used to come visit all the time.”

  “Vodu brought me up here when I was young,” Zak explained to her.

  “It’s good to see you too, Bandal. Sorry to interrupt you during such trying times. This is Aimee.” He wrapped his fingers around her arm.

  “You are bonded?” Bandal’s eyebrows hiked up.

  “Yes. I couldn’t resist her.”

  Aimee blushed.

  “Hello Aimee,” Bandal recited her name carefully. “Are you from Ziratak? Your hair–”

  “No, actually I’m from Earth.”

  A slim shoulder turned about. A woman whose skin appeared translucent under the glow peeked at her from indigo eyes.

  “Earth?” she repeated. “I remember that planet.”

  “You’ve been there?” Aimee asked.

&
nbsp; “No,” she shook her pale hair. In this lighting, Aimee couldn’t tell if it was blonde or silver. “But I have charted it. It stuck with me because I thought it looked a little bit like Anthum.”

  Given the opportunity, Aimee pounced. “Are we getting close to Anthum?”

  A shadow crossed the woman’s eyes. “Yes.”

  “Aimee,” Zak warned quietly.

  “It’s alright,” Baldan read his tone. “You were once inquisitive.”

  “If I could just ask–” Aimee proceeded, “–how will you land this thing?”

  A weary smile hugged the woman’s profile. Baldan mirrored that fatigue.

  “Well, as we’ve never landed the Horus before I guess it will be a learning experience for us all.” He swept his hand towards the hologram of the ship. “There are very few people left aboard to remember how the Horus took off to begin with. Those who would ventured back to Anthum on our last pass. The Horus is actually modular, comprised of five different ships which linked together once we were out in space. Soon we will begin the detaching process in preparation for entry into Anthum’s atmosphere.

  Aimee’s eyes rounded with wonder.

  “Who pilots each ship? There are only three of you.”

  “We will eventually split up and take control of each module. Vodu will pilot the command module–this craft. There are a few longstanding navigators aboard capable–” he stopped himself, “–or capable enough to bring us home.”

  Aimee sliced a glance at Zak. She might as well be looking at a stone monument. He was in full Warrior mode now. Alert. Concerned.

  “When will the separation begin?” he asked in a tense voice.

  “An announcement will go out shortly to disperse the citizens of the Horus to five assembly points. There, they will be instructed on safety procedures. No one is to leave their designated area once we are on approach to Anthum. We are hoping all five crafts can land contiguously on Aulo island. Our computations demonstrate that the modules will all fit.”

  Bandal squinted at the woman hunched over the controls. Her back was to them again, but she nodded in agreement.

  “You had better get back to Vodu and await your directive.”

  Aimee bowed her head in deference. She was humbled by the think-tank before her. Zak reached for her hand, their fingers linking. Her other hand settled on her stomach.