The shape shifted slightly in some unspeakable fashion. A voice did not come from it; rather the surrounding darkness itself was impressing the words into his mind. He did not understand the language, but knew the exact meaning of what was being ’said’ to him.
“You may request, but you will see that request unfulfilled. Heed my question carefully, and answer with your fragile mortality firmly in mind: You say you are Human, so how have you come to this place? I do not recall Humans having developed the rather impertinent ability to go where they please without doorways. You are fortunate to have maintained a respectful tone thus far.”
The silent voice gave him the impression of steely hardness, an unforgiving personality whose might was more than capable of enforcing its draconian tone. He perceived that, wherever he was, this darkness existed entirely within the power of the being he addressed.
“I beg your forgiveness for my intrusion. I possess a curse unique among my kind that results in such involuntary excursions. I am a wanderer, my entire life framed by a nightly journey to places unknown.”
The presence paused, then Nicadzim felt a bitter laugh. “I cannot currently discern whether it is fitting or insulting for the first creature with whom I have spake in so long to immediately raise a topic so dear to me. Mortal, touch what you see before you—you will not be harmed.”
He considered asking why the presence requested he do so, but opted to withhold his questions lest the being regard his inquiry as an offense. He stepped forward and extended an arm toward the shadowy something. At the point of contact he felt, for an infinitesimal moment in time, as if he had been exposed to the full brunt of a solar flare. The sensation was not that of pain, but rather a heat so intense and complete it caused his mind to reel. Something slipped into his consciousness, some knowledge he couldn’t place or find a way to apply.
He felt the great presence think for a moment. “... Nicadzim, you may consider a less humble introduction for future usage. A wanderer you may be, but such a term does obscure the planar wonders you have beheld. You are unique, and possess such a power as I feared I may never again behold.”
The voice paused, a subtle wave of emotion passing through the presence. “... Thank you. I have gleaned a great deal of understanding from your mind, and am grateful to see how far humanity has come since I could last visit. However, I fear for your future—we are in opposition to the same dire threat. Having thus seen your need, I have deposited something that may aid you into your mind. I more than likely will not need it. May we one day meet outside of this dream, Nicadzim, and may you always walk with Throne’s blessing.”
Nicadzim felt himself gently slide away into consciousness, as if the presence had shown him the door. He sat up, finding himself in his bed. His pillow floated into the air behind him as he stirred to wakefulness. He dressed, then without transition he appeared on a stool in the lounge. It was early morning about three weeks after Bel’Wa’s arrival, and the first beams of light were peeking over the mountains.
“Nico! Hi!” the Storm Mother spluttered, stopping her fist mid-flight. “Sorry, so sorry. Might take me a bit to get used to that.”
“I will be simply impressed how quickly you moved.”
Bel’Wa wore a dark blue robe of a shorter and more casual cut than the traditional garment she had worn on arrival. She was nursing a small cup of a Qixing tea-equivalent, its scent best described as a mix of grilled mushrooms and caramel. The steaming liquid was a dark orange tone, and Nicadzim had little doubt it would prove abhorrent to human taste buds. Bel’Wa’s feet hung from the stool a few inches from the floor.
“Oh, I’m indecent! Checking for dead scales. Sexy, I know.” The Storm Mother’s skirt was parted to her knee, and she rectified this with a swift flick of one wrist.
Nicadzim glanced down at her leg. “You are wearing less to spar, aren’t you?”
“Well yes, but I was sparring then. I’m royalty, Nico, I can’t have naughty men like you blinking around and spying my knees while I’m drinking tea!”
The big man narrowed his eyes at her. “You will be a strange woman.”
“Aw, Nico, I thought Runner was supposed to be the charmer, look at you!” Bel’Wa said as she kicked her feet.
“Bel’Wa? I let you out of my sight for two minutes and you’re pulling moves on poor Nico?”
Bryluen came striding down the lounge stairs from the lobby, clad in her ever-present woolen pajamas and looking homey and comfortable. When in Raven’s Landing, it was often difficult to believe Bryluen had taken the lives of more people than some members of Dread Naught had ever met. This notion was despoiled the moment someone made eye contact with her—at almost no time did Bryluen’s experienced and cool gaze emanate anything other than relentless competence, and an eye trained to spot weaknesses both social and physical.
“You know I’m just a woman of flesh and blood, tye’tyito!” Bel’Wa mockingly protested. They seemed to neutralize one another when matching eyes, their stares obtaining a unique softness reserved only for one another.
Bryluen chuckled as she strolled up and kissed Bel’Wa. “Good morning, you verdant hellion. Nico? You seem preoccupied this morning.”
The big man queued a cup of coffee for himself, and a thoughtful expression fell across his face. “I was quite fine, thank you. Will you ladies have slept well?”
“Indeed we did”, Bryluen said, her tone uncharacteristically chipper. “Additionally, we decided on a little something for the team to do, at least until we get some helpful results back from the boys and girls studying the Stone. Once everyone’s awake, we’ll let you know!”
Over the next three hours, the remainder of the team became conscious and was summoned to the lounge. Bryluen ordered a full breakfast for the team via the dispensary, allowing them to gain full wakefulness over a warm meal. The trees outside had begun to thin their leaves and launch seed pods into the winds in preparation for their coming growth period. Spring on Aves Prime was looming, and soon an unbelievable spectacle of colorful flowers would spread like moss across much of the landscape. For now, however, the panorama surrounding Raven’s Landing was temporarily draining of its color.
Bryluen gently tapped her fork on a plate loaded with the remains of her breakfast to attract the group’s attention.
The team quieted from their various conversations and turned toward her. Bel’Wa smiled, and put a hand on Bryluen’s leg as she spoke. “Dread Naught, you’re all damn hard workers, that much can be said. We’ve had a gap here in battles, but our mission is as yet in an early stage. That said, you’ve all earned something special. I think we’re all aware of what time of year it is, so in about two hours I want all of you to have three days of warm clothes packed, and to be aboard the Atet. We’re celebrating Brightstar.”
Sounds of surprise and excitement sounded around the table. Brightstar was the most popular Human holiday, celebrating hope and bringing goodwill and joy into the coming year. It had long ago developed out of several older holiday traditions, centuries of cultural drift and adaptation rendering it a massive celebration lauded across all Human worlds regardless of creed. Brightstar was celebrated simultaneously according to the Universal Terran Calendar, a time-keeping system adopted across Human space mostly based on Earth’s rotation around Sol.
As a result, Brightstar coincided with the end of Winter on Humanity’s home world. The standard practice of Brightstar involved erecting a shelved structure most often called a “Light Tree.” Each shelf was themed for either those assembled to celebrate the holiday, or an important milestone in the lives of those present. On the shelves, gifts were placed in decorated papers and bags each person bought for one another. One adult among those attending was traditionally drawn at random to be responsible for bringing a Light Tree ’topper’ the day of Brightstar, intended to be a symbol or object that best represented the year as a whole.
Often lights and decorations recalling ancient Human beliefs were placed on the outs
ide of houses or through neighborhoods, representing the light of hope and the warmth of charity. The much older holidays from which Brightstar drew its foundation were often wintertime celebrations made to appease or honor deities, or to superstitiously ward off the harshness of winter. Thus, despite the fact Brightstar occurred at different seasons across the galaxy, its symbolism still mostly linked to its night and winter-themed origins.
Soon after breakfast Dread Naught was assembled on the Atet, unaccustomed to boarding the craft without their armor or weaponry. Bryluen, and Bel’Wa were permitted to bear concealed arms via clearance from their respective governments, but the others were weaponless. The team’s luggage of warm clothing and other sundry possessions was secured in a cargo harness next to Vort.
Kirby had held a brief discussion with Bryluen about the possibility of bringing the Marduk—citing its suitability for large-scale snowball fights and lifting gifts—but she ultimately relented when Bryluen explained the living accommodations they were bound for.
The Atet soon translated through the gate and into the third system of the Ishal cluster, a series of stars just inside Qixing territory. Instantly, a strident command to cease and submit to scanning was transmitted by the Gate Sentinels on the receiving side of the gate. The flattened, diamond-like shape of a Qixing fire base sat at point-blank range—less than twenty thousand kilometers from the system gate. The massive anti-starship emplacements on the base were already trained on the diminutive Atet, joined by a squadron of picket ships. That amount of firepower could make the Atet vanish into stellar dust in less than a millisecond, not to mention cripple multiple warships. After only a few seconds, however, the Atet’s ident and—most importantly—its armament permissions were cleared. As Kirby proceeded toward the planetary coordinates Bryluen gave her she gasped, realized where they were heading.
The Operative smiled, and spoke to the team over the Atet’s intercom. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Ishal lo Tal’Ek, frosted jewel of the Ishal Cluster. Our course takes us to the lovely town of Rroth’Bia’s Retreat, a place of stunning vistas, numerous wonderful pursuits, and a shit-ton of snow, because I am a traditionalist. Brightstar works best when it’s hopelessly dark and exactly cold enough that you feel the breath of ill-fated explorers on the back of your neck every time you step outside.”
The disembarkation bay fell silent for a moment. Bel’Wa, fastened into her seat next to Nicadzim, hummed for a second before speaking at the ceiling-mounted speaker. “My dearest love ... I don’t mean to question your understanding of your own culture, but isn’t Brightstar about hope?”
“Hope is best seen in contrasts, Bel’Wa! I can go get light anywhere, but if you hand me a frost-blasted wasteland plunged into eternal darkness and then show me a pinpoint of light—that is hope.”
Kirby looked over at the pontificating Operative. “You’re a great lady, Bryl, but every once in a while you scare me a li’l bit.”
Bryluen crossed her arms. “I should: I can legally kill you.”
“Well that’s a damn good point!” Kirby nodded to herself.
Looming before the Atet, the darkened surface of Ishal lo Tal’Ek looked cold even from orbit. The world’s surface was pale blue and gray, interrupted by seas so dark they were nearly black. Thick clouds ranged across the world’s skies in slow, continental masses, all but ensuring much of the planet remained frigid year-round. Rroth’Bia’s Retreat was an exclusive place to spend Brightstar, with a strict limit on the number of visitors permitted so as not to spoil the small town atmosphere. In the spirit of the holiday, gaining a pass to spend Brightstar in Rroth’Bia’s Retreat was not dependent on money or status. Bryluen had been required to anonymously write a letter arguing their need for such a vaunted holiday retreat, which was then read and reviewed by a special committee who decided on its worthiness.
The Atet burned toward the surface, its sleek hull rippling in flame. The external view-screen reactivated as it broke through into the lower atmosphere, revealing puffy white clouds and thick snowfall. Rroth’Bia’s Retreat glowed below, a series of concentric circular formations of buildings on a wide plateau overlooking the ocean. Aside from its proximity to water, the chief reason for the town's location glittered in the darkness below. The cliffs upon which Rroth’Bia’s Retreat sat were one of the largest mineral deposits in known space: a cascading wall of lovingly polished emerald stretched for several kilometers in each direction. Spotlights buoyed on the sea caused the bulwark to refract its haunting hues onto the water and to illuminate the solid cloud cover above. The fantastical glow of the emerald wall served to contrast the simple pleasures of the town built above it, and was widely hailed as one of the most beautiful natural sights for light years around.
Kirby relayed the stunning visual to the view screen mounted in the disembarkation bay. Runner raised his eyebrows while Nicadzim and Bel’Wa smiled. Vort generated a sound something like a static-laden purr. The snows of Ishal lo Tal’Ek were a pale blue that showed clearly in the thick snow drifts draped across the landscape. Most of Rroth’Bia’s Retreat was constructed of 3D-printed wood, and its streets were built of cobblestone and brick. The intentionally rustic atmosphere was enforced by numerous building codes resulting in many architectural features and requirements unnecessary with modern technology, but which upheld a comfortingly nostalgic vision. Even the landing pad the Atet alighted upon was built to look like stone work—in truth, it was an extremely strong material made to handle the weight of cargo ships and the heat of atmospheric engines.
An ever-present team of hefty drones pushed snow off of the landing pad, prioritizing sectors that space traffic control allocated for incoming vehicles. As a result, a rectangular area exactly large enough to accommodate the Atet’s landing feet and ramp was cleared of snow just in time for landing. Traffic control drones came out of the wood-clad observation tower to perform complementary maintenance on the ship, but a passive warding transmission from the Atet prevented them from prying into even the most marginal systems of the experimental CSOE craft. A group of greeters ran onto the landing pad in thick winter wear with anxiousness in their motions—since the letters of acceptance were anonymous, they were unaware a CSOE crew was inbound until only minutes prior when Kirby confirmed their idents and landing space with the tower.
Bryluen stood from her seat, and zipped her black coat closed. Her face was framed by the neat fringe of white fur that ringed the hood, and her hands and feet were bound in insulated leather. Thick gray pants and hiking boots protected her legs and feet. Kirby wore a woven green toque, a wide scarf, and a thick jacket whose girth threatened to swallow her. The otherwise casual look was finished with a hefty pair of Marine-issue winter boots. The pair entered the disembarkation bay where the rest of the team finished preparing themselves for the blast of cold awaiting them.
Runner was bound in a tight layer of insulating material above which he wore a glossy black leather jacket, gloves, and boots. He decided against a hat so as not to overly disturb his temperamental hair, instead settling for ear muffs. Suave and darkly handsome, he looked for all the world like the kind of person you would trust to covertly transport sensitive materials between government installations. Nicadzim wore little more than an everyday outfit, a pair of basic gloves his only obvious accommodation. Bryluen recalled he was unaffected by temperature extremes when she first met him, so she simply shrugged when Bel’Wa first expressed concern that he would be cold. Vort was bound in a custom-made garment that could generously be described as an insulated tube with a heavy skirt to cover his legs. His feathers were fairly insulating, allowing his wings to remain free, and his biology allowed his eyes to remain unharmed if bare. Lastly, Bel’Wa wore a thick robe, long stockings, and silken gloves. Her Qixing heritage allowed her comfort in substantially lower temperatures than humans could manage, so her winter wear need not be so severe.
Any arrival for Brightstar at Rroth’Bia’s Retreat could expect a guide to give them informatio
n on the town and guide them to their accommodations, but the special nature of the Dread Naught landing party drove the committee to deploy a more comprehensive group. The mayor of Rroth’Bia’s Retreat, Boddu Tenzin Abhishek, stood at the front of a group that included a pair of senior tour guides, the town sheriff, and the heads of the Holiday Committee. All of them were bound tightly in matching coats, hats, gloves, and boots. Several of them less-than-subtly glancing at the handsome Runner, most giving themselves away by faking sniffs or suddenly looking away. For Runner’s part, he seemed to pay no mind, either because he was used to the attention, or because he was genuinely oblivious as he looked about at the pleasant surroundings.
The top half of the Mayor’s dark face was visible just above his thick scarf. He was beaming, and with excited hand motions signed to Bryluen. “Greetings, and welcome to Rroth’Bia’s Retreat, Dame. We have not seen you and the lovely Mrs. Belzxilenth’Wa in quite a while! I would be honored to show you around our beautiful town should you like, but otherwise please let me know what I can do to make this visit for you and your companions as pleasant as possible!”
Bryluen gave the mayor a smile, and signed her response in swift, practiced motions. “Bel’Wa and I managed to burn the layout of this lovely town into our memories on our previous visits. We would be delighted if you would show us to our cabins!”
The mayor nodded, then motioned for Bryluen and the rest of Dread Naught to follow. The Operative extended an elbow toward Bel’Wa. After a moment she understood the signal, and hooked her arm in Bryluen’s. The group followed the mayor and his entourage off the landing pad and into the streets of Rroth’Bia’s Retreat. Snow fluttered downward like lost feathers, covering every ceiling and road in a blue blanket. Wooden structures sprawled around them, only two or three stories high at the most. The outer rings of the town were various forms of comfortable lodging that alternated with saunas, massage parlors, and other forms of stress-relieving diversion. Further inward were numerous small restaurants and stores selling a wide variety of merchandise. Shopping in Rroth’Bia’s Retreat was intentionally quaint, the more intimate experience of small stores a contrast to ordering remotely from other systems or the extravagance of a star mall.
The Shadow Among The Stars: Book One of the Dread Naught Trilogy Page 25