by Ava D. Dohn
* * *
Time went by quickly. The Shikkeron made two stops during the first four days. They were small colonies, and it took little time to conclude business. Weeks earlier, notice had been sent to the cities in the Trizentine, requesting the district councils to have manifests prepared, listing manufacturing locations and supplies. Shortly following this, teams descended on the colonies to assist in the process. When Jebbson arrived, he would finalize the recommendations as to what items were to be salvaged, then, with the approval of the city’s council, make arrangements to demolish the remainder.
(Author’s note: Do not mistake this selective removal and destruction of industry with the ‘Day of Black Fire’. That ‘scorched earth’ policy was implemented at a later time, and was carried out through direct orders from Admiral Gabrielle, with the full knowledge and good graces of Mihai, the king. To this day, there are those who argue the burning of the Trizentine, stating the minor strategic and commercial value of the region. Some point out that the damage done has not been healed down to our time, and that many treasured antiquities were obliterated needlessly.
Let me say this, as an observer and student of your history and an inquisitor of the ‘Kings War’: The elimination of a multi-star system culture and the annihilation of ageless buildings and priceless works of art were regrettable, but were justified. I feel that the wholesale destruction of the Trizentine and the subsequent devastation of border cities in other star systems weakened the enemy’s resolve in several ways, thus proving the worth of such strategy.
Throughout vast areas of space, the enemy found no spoils or lodging. This forced all necessary supplies to be transported across great distances, thus depriving the enemy of many frontline warships which were sent to protect transport convoys. More importantly, it served notice that, even should Lowenah’s children be defeated, there would be no spoils gained for all the labor and sacrifice put into the victory. The psychological impact of such knowledge, I believe, reduced the fervency of the opposing forces, often helping tip the scales of war in our favour.
When Mihai’s armies finally went on the offensive, they took the Black Fire strategy along with them, leaving nothing but smoldering ruins in their wake. This disheartened the enemy toward making any serious counteroffensives, knowing there would be nothing left to return to. From one end of Asotos’ realm to it furthest extremities, this meting of justice was carried out, leaving little evidence of his vast kingdom that once threatened the Children’s Empire.)
To stay on schedule, Captain Bedan and Colonel AdayaDarla decided to bypass the other smaller colonies and make a straight shot for Exothepobole. The Shikkeron left the main trade routes and cut across uncharted territory.
Late in the afternoon of the third day out from Sustrepho, the officers and crew were jolted when the Shikkeron’s engines automatically kicked in reverse thrusters, slamming the ship to a near stop, hurtling objects off shelves and flinging people to the floor. Red, flashing emergency lights accompanied by the ear-numbing bleating of warning sirens sent all off-duty crewmembers scurrying to battle stations.
In seconds, Bedan and Darla were on the bridge, Bedan sporting only a towel and covered with suds and Darla wearing a well-pronounced bleeding slash across her forehead from being hit by flying debris.
Running toward the first officer, Bedan shouted, “What’s happened?! Are we under attack?!”
The first officer’s face was deathly white as he gripped the rail overlooking the operations deck just below. It was all that had saved him from being flung from the bridge when the ship’s engines reversed. Staring at the captain, the officer stuttered in shock and astonishment. “I… I don’t know, sir. I don’t know.”
He leaned over the rail. “Damage reports! Give us damage reports! What’s the crew status?! Give us an injury report!”
Silently Darla stood there attempting to wipe away some of the blood that was oozing into her eyes.
Bedan again asked the bridge officer what happened. He repeated what he had said, adding, “All systems were fine. We were lining up on the Nortaien Nebula, preparing to do a course correction, when we suddenly hit what felt like an invisible wall. I don’t know what we’ve slammed in to.”
The forward deck officer called up to the bridge. “Captain, we’ve lost all external sensors! All communications systems are down! And the visual screens are dead!”
The first damage reports came in, indicating the ship was unharmed. Captain Bedan ordered the alarm system shut down. Injuries were relatively light - mostly bruises and cuts. There were a few broken bones and a cook’s helper was burned when the contents from a boiling pot of stew flew across the kitchen. Other than the general mess created when the ship stopped, little harm had occurred.
Bedan stepped to a porthole and his eyes grew wide with wonder. Excitedly he called out for Darla to have a look. Blinking away blood, Darla stared into a smoky gray universe of static energy. Off in the distance there were flashes of magnetic discharges and, at times, blue-white sheets of lightning would roll past the ship. Darla whispered fearfully, “Get Ardon up here, Captain. He may know what this is.”
It took some time to find Ardon. He had been sorting packages in the baggage room when the ship stopped, and had struggled extricating himself from the tumbled boxes. By the time he reached the captain’s bridge, the ship’s doctor had sutured Darla’s wound and placed a clean bandage over it. The grave look on the captain’s face coupled with the drying soap in his hair, and him still wearing a wet towel, painted a picture that was both surreal and comedic. Ardon almost laughed until he spied Darla with her blood-spattered blue uniform and a bandage that nearly hid one eye. He let out a “Whew! Looks like there’s been a hot time around here.”
Darla waited for no formalities, pointing out the portal. “Major! Can you tell us what that is?”
Ardon hesitantly stepped up to the porthole to get a better look. He breathed a sigh of relief. “That looks much like the fields of the Nebulan Cloud Bank to me.”
“How can that be!?” Bedan wondered. “It’s at least a fourteen day hard run west-southwest of here.” He waved his arm toward the window, asking sarcastically, “How do you explain this?”
Ardon turned away from the porthole, smiling knowledgeably. “While it’s true that the body of the Nebulan Cloud Bank is light years away, its fingers wander far from home.”
Bedan fumed in disbelief, “Its fingers?! Man, what are you talking about?!”
Ardon began his lengthy explanation. “The body of the Nebulan Cloud Bank is filled with dust and debris that has slowly drifted into it since the universe’s beginning. There is enough mass accumulated in the body to make the Bank visible to the eye. But the matter that makes the cloud has not arrived there by chance.”
He motioned out the portal. “Entering into the cloud - actually a better name for it would be ‘sea’ - are countless rivers of energy that snake their way across this entire part of the galaxy, weaving in and out of stars systems and stretching far beyond the outer frontier. These rivers gather up any material that drifts into them, slowly drawing it toward the cloud’s body, much the same as water flows to the sea.”
Ardon was enjoying being the center of attention again. It had been such a long time. He dragged on with his explanation. “Some of the rivers are vast, being thousands of leagues across and powerful enough to suck massive asteroids along in their current. Tributaries may be little more than several hundred cubits wide. I’m sure you have all encountered them, they being so common. Usually they are dismissed as space anomalies and not investigated.”
He peered into the cosmic storm surrounding the ship. “The energy here is not like any known beyond the Cloud Bank. When outside the river, so to speak - because it is like a huge channel that snakes back and forth across space - one cannot see the river… and there exists no known instruments able to detect it. Once inside this flowing fo
rce field, the energy envelops the ship in some kind of a cosmic swaddling band that makes us part of the river, giving us sight into the invisible, including other objects being carried along in the river’s flow.”
Ardon rested his hand on the side of the hull. “We are presently in the river’s grip, and it’s drawing us toward the Nebulan Cloud Bank. In a nice leisurely cruise of, say, a half-million years, we will find ourselves in the heart of that vast cosmic sea.”
“That’s all well and dandy...” Bedan scoffed, “if we were on a lazy cruise! Tell me, are we stuck here until that time, or is there a way out?!”
Ardon didn’t like to be chided by a child of the Last Age. He warned, “My dear Captain, if you seek the help of an Ancient, you’d better remember your place! I play the soldier only to a limit!”
Accepting his chastisement, Bedan apologized for his sharpness. “Major, please forgive me for such unprovoked disrespect. I was out of line.”
Ardon graciously accepted Bedan’s apology.
Bedan continued, “As you are aware, we have had a near calamity and do not know the solution to our dilemma. If you are able to assist us, I would be most appreciative.”
Ardon said he could. “The engines automatically thrust themselves into reverse because of the total failure of all external data. Without it, the ship’s computers were incapable of making a reasonable diagnosis of the situation. Stopping was the only viable solution - the most logical one - considering they are programmed to respond first to the needs of the crew. If you had been in manual control, this ship would have blasted into the channel at full speed, possibly just passing through, or maybe slamming into a huge piece of space junk. Let me warn you… energy shields don’t function well here. You should be thankful for the quick action of your computers. By returning the ship to manual operation, you will regain full control of the engines. Next, you can set your mark by using a gravitational compass on a fixed location having great enough mass to register on the compass. I have found that gravitational compasses are unaffected by these rivers. Then, while looking into the cosmic river for dangerous objects, you can slowly navigate the channel.”
The Captain was anxious. “We have little time. Is there no faster way?”
Ardon drew out his reply. “Why y-e-sssss…there is.” He paused to see Bedan’s response. Bedan got the point and patiently waited on Ardon’s reply.
Satisfied, he continued, “There are two ways. If we were sufficiently equipped with sensitive gravitational guidance and warning systems, we could resume reasonable speed. Seeing we don’t have that - surprising no one has bothered to develop a good one yet - I can assist you through this river.”
“Good! Good!” Bedan excitedly replied. Then catching himself so as not to raise Ardon’s ire again, he humbly requested, “Would you be so good as to help us out of this dilemma?”
Ardon nodded stoically, but inside he bubbled with joy. This was the first time since leaving Palace City that he felt of any real use at all. They needed his help to navigate through this cosmic river, something easy for him to do, but nearly impossible for Lowenah’s younger children. For that matter, it was the same for all Lowenah’s children, seeing that Ardon was the only person who knew about these rivers.
Ardon first recommended that Bedan finish his bath while the ship made ready. “All things considered, our passage should be safe enough. Still…better to tie down the hatches, just in case.” He added, “We should also rig for silent running. I will need to think my way through the channel. Keeping it quiet will assist me greatly.”
All unnecessary operating systems were ordered shut down, including nonessential life support, and the lights were dimmed in the bridge area. Soon everything was in order. When Captain Bedan returned to the bridge, Ardon took the helm, his hands on the bridge’s rail. The navigation officer stood on Ardon’s left and the steerage officer to his right. Any command he gave was done in little more than a whisper and it was relayed as quietly as possible. Colonel AdayaDarla and Major Jebbson Garlock were the only other observers on the captain’s bridge.
Ardon called out to the observation crew, stationed at the front portals, “Stay awake up there and call out as soon as you see anything, even though it appears only to be a speck. At six leagues a second, things get big real fast.” He closed his eyes and gave the order to get under way.
What would have taken only several seconds to cross if the Shikkeron were up to operating speed, consumed nearly four hours. During that entire time, Ardon stood on the captain’s bridge, eyes closed and head up, like some beast sniffing the breeze. At times, he would call out a slight course or speed change, the steerage officer quietly sounding the order to the engine room. Then, momentarily, a lookout would speak up, warning the others of some distant speck. In only seconds, the ship’s path might take it streaking past a giant chunk of space rubbish, at times much larger than the Shikkeron, itself.
Captain Bedan had let out an audible “Phew!” after one space rock twirled by within only yards, instantly to be followed by another even larger one twice its size hurtling by on the opposite side. The smaller of the asteroids was a day's walk in breadth and three times it in length. His face was grave as he glanced at Darla, his uncertainty of Ardon’s navigational abilities showing in his eyes. She nodded and smiled, indicating her complete trust in Major Ardon’s expertise. Her faith and trust was no solace for Bedan. Several more grueling hours and dozens of galactic encounters passed before he could relax.
Eventually, Ardon requested the ship be slowed until it came nearly to a stop. The lookouts in the bow called back, saying they saw distant lights that appeared to be stars. Ardon turned to Bedan and smugly grinned, saying with a note of satisfaction, “Captain, we are standing at the edge of the universe. You are looking through the outer membrane of the channel. As you may notice, the energy field has not loosened its grip on us, so your sensory machinery is still down. Likewise, no one on the other side of that wall knows we’re here.”
Bedan silently stared out the porthole in wonder. He was greatly relieved but also very curious about what he witnessed regarding Ardon’s abilities and this unbelievable journey they had just finished. Ardon could see these questions in the captain’s eyes. As he observed Bedan’s composure, he became troubled in thought. For all these years he had prided himself in believing he understood people by reading faces, but he had failed to understand a great truism: to a person without heart, the face reveals only the animal nature of the person - hate, fear, lust, and so forth. The human nature, love, is deep water that must be searched for to find. Ardon realized that, in his foolish pride, he had rarely desired to look beyond his own shimmering reflection seen on the surface of that deep water.
Setting those thoughts aside for another time, Ardon reached out and gripped Bedan’s shoulder, smiling. “Captain, you and your crew are the first people to have ever crossed the full width of the ‘BaalRohab’ (meaning ‘Master in Breadth’). It is one of the major trunk lines leading to the Nebulan Cloud Bank. Its distance I do not know, for I have never journeyed its full length. Considering its size at this point, it must stretch far across the galaxy to yet undiscovered star systems.”
Bedan shook his head in awe and asked, “How can it be that a man knows times and seasons with just thought? The river was wide and dangerous. Yet you not only knew how to navigate us safely through the hidden dangers, you speak of it with distinction as though it were charted on a map.”
Ardon turned to Bedan, politely offering, “Time is a tool given as a gift to gain wisdom and knowledge. One day you will learn how to use your mind to do even greater things and master greater mysteries than you have seen today.” He then looked at Darla.
“One day I may learn how to understand other mysteries I am only beginning to comprehend.” Ardon gave Bedan another gentle tug, looking him in the eye. “Captain, the ship is yours. I feel she is none the worse for wear
having been in my control.” With that, Ardon excused himself and went back to other duties.
Captain Bedan invited Darla and Jebbson to remain on the bridge as he navigated the final distance of the Great BaalRohab Trunk Line. The edge of the channel did feel much like a membrane, resisting the Shikkeron so that it had to increase thrust to push its way through the outer wall and back into open space. The river’s powerful energy field reluctantly let go, gradually giving the ship freedom from its grasp.
Darla commented, “I can see why Ardon calls it a ‘river’. Without our internal power to fight against that energy, we would have drifted hopelessly on, trapped in its eternal current.” Bedan nodded in agreement.
In short order, all systems were back on line. The Shikkeron was preparing to reengage main drives and get back on course when Darla noticed the communications officer being motioned over to a signal station. He conferred a moment and then placed the operator’s headset to his ear. In seconds, he was hurrying toward the captain’s bridge. The officer stopped up short and called out to Captain Bedan, “We have a coded message of distress coming from an unidentified ship located about two hours Q-south and west of our current location!”
Bedan leaned over the rail and asked, “You say the ship hasn’t identified itself?”
“No, sir!” The officer replied. “The distress signal is being sent using the most recent code, though. It was changed only three weeks ago. Do you want me to reply?”
Captain Bedan pondered the situation. Darla watched the anxiety on his face, making a mental note of how slowly he might respond in an emergency. She chose to say nothing, waiting patiently for him to come to a decision.
After a long delay, Bedan spoke up. “Send out a coded message asking who they are. Don’t reveal our name or position.”
It took several minutes for a return message. There was caution in the wordage of the reply, making Bedan nervous. The ship also refused to identify itself. He ordered another message be sent, demanding to know the ship’s need for assistance and to make proper declaration.
The message returned, citing the problem. The ship’s cooling tanks had ruptured. Although now repaired, the damage of the released caustic gasses had contaminated their supply of thallium oxysulfide, thus preventing them from re-igniting the atomizing boilers. The ship still refused to reveal its name, but it did send an encrypted message in code. When deciphered, it read, ‘The royal dogs’ sound at the call of the prey, and shall rent the cub from its mother's mouth.’
Bedan called Darla and the first mate over to him to examine this strangest of communiqués. They quizzed back and forth over what the line could possibly mean. It was obvious that, for some reason, good or bad, the commander of the ship-in-distress did not want to advertise its presence in this region. Without knowing who it was, Bedan felt it wise to pass along the distress call to fleet command by coded message and be on their way.
Darla hesitated, a nervous unease growing within her heart. She asked to see the paper the message was written on. For some time she stood there, silently studying the coded script.
Bedan was about to interrupt when, suddenly, Darla cried out, “It’s a riddle!” She began to excitedly gesture, exclaiming, “Here! Look at this!” She pointed to the writing. “The ‘royal dogs’ sound’ is a bark, read ‘barquentine’, a royal… say imperial barquentine.” Darla then pointed to the other part of the line. “See! ‘Shall rent the cub from its mother’s mouth’, or to tear apart with a violent separation, or to divulse the cub from its mother. I believe we are receiving a message from the imperial barquentine, Divulsion!”
“That’s impossible!” exclaimed Bedan. “We have received no reports of that ship or any other fleet vessel in this quadrant!”
Darla quietly replied, “I had heard whispers that there might be a patrol sent to this region to investigate rumors of an enemy fleet hereabouts.” She was careful not to tell Bedan how she knew or the other details she was privy to.
“Can you really be sure?” Bedan nervously asked, adding, “If the enemy has wandered into our territory, it would be dangerous for us all. How can we be sure it’s not a trap? We are but one ship…”
Darla calmly but soundly replied, “The Shikkeron is an imperial brigantine! It is of nearly frigate class!” She looked into Bedan’s eyes, seeing the uncertainty hiding there. “Look! We have a duty to protect our brothers and sisters at arms. If the enemy is there, we must find it and, in the least, report our discovery to the fleet before we are torn asunder. But we must take the risk! We have no other choice.”
Bedan haltingly agreed as he reread the message Darla handed back to him. He finally called down to the communications officer. “Tell them the Shikkeron is coming to their aid.” He turned back to Darla. “If we are to die today, our enemy will know who they face.”
The Shikkeron slowly turned to starboard and made way toward an unknown destiny.