by Tyson Jordan
“You know, I’m still not sure how to feel about you smiling like that.” Janus’s laughter masked genuine anxiety, and I was snapped from my trance. The soft glow of mathematics and telemetry intensified on my screen, revealing the coordinates for our departure.
Grand Ocean was currently far beyond the reach of even the Destrier ’s powerful engines, and so the true purpose of the Guild’s Irenicium stores revealed itself. Hard at work, producing ever more energy, they changed the nature of the void itself to make a day’s long journey last but a few moments.
I righted the Destrier ’s path and peered ahead, remembering my pilot training. With it came the memory of my first passage through such a portal, and I tightened my stomach reflexively. Despite the genius of the scientists and mathematicians responsible for our access to the myriad stars, the voyage was nonetheless jarring, bearing the nauseating sensation of having one’s organs stretched beyond their limits and then snapped back elastically.
There was a curious reflection in the blackness, a shimmering and twisting of a few stars that stood apart from the rest. I accelerated, pushing towards that gate, which began to glow with a lavender light. Janus held tightly onto his seat and shook his head, muttering, “Goddamn it. I hate this, I hate this, I hate this …”
The gate neared and shone brightly. Beyond the amorphous and shifting fabric of the doorway was our destination, the faint outline of a blue world so far away. I slowed the ship to a near-standstill and, with the help of my instruments, peered back at the Guild, suspended in the darkness.
The Guild’s immensity and power with all of its promise was now a mere disc, fragile and suspended in the darkness. I stared at it for a moment, realising that for all of the ordeals and suffering it so readily offered, it was nonetheless a familiarity that I would no longer experience each day, one that I would exchange for the uncertainty and fear of a world I had never seen with my own eyes.
I inhaled sharply and pushed through the gate, tempted to close my eyes as it took a curious hold over our ship. A sharp tingling sensation spread through my body, beginning with my hands and pulsing through in waves. It filled my organs and all the shadows of the Destrier seemed to vanish, replaced by kaleidoscopic violet light. It filled my lungs and my eyes, and I began to feel an all-encompassing discomfort that bordered on pain.
The discomfort pulsed more intensely with each passing moment, and I gained a strange awareness of my body’s inner workings. I could feel each of my organs contort and throb and stretch until, when I thought that I could take no more, my ears were filled with a percussive crack that brought the violet oddity to its abrupt end.
“Ugh, I hate that, I hate that, I hate that …” Janus doubled over in his seat, cradling his head and taking forced, unsatisfying breaths. Argenta wore a pained expression as she folded her arms over her stomach. Thankfully, the nausea passed shortly as we collected ourselves.
“I don’t care if the return trip takes a week at maximum speed, I am not riding another Irenicium bridge anytime in the near future!” My friend scowled. I nearly gave my agreement when a cool blue light filled the cabin.
We all turned and looked at it, that small world called Grand Ocean that grew larger before us as we made our approach. It was a glimmering sphere of blue waters that seamlessly shifted into teal and violet near its poles, terminating in continental ice of brilliant white. On its surface I could make out the faint impressions of islands, barely visible amongst the surrounding and perpetual sea. Our approach was rapid, and the communications systems of the Destrier awakened, detecting the endless electronic chatter between thousands of satellites, both manned and unmanned, as they orbited the planet in effortless mathematical grace.
“It’s good to be home?” I asked, turning to Janus, but he did not smile in return, offering instead a soft and unconvincing agreement. For a moment, I thought I saw him tug gently at the bandages which he had always worn. I felt the need to speak, but was cut off by a sudden navigational command that lit Janus’s console with a brilliant green. He sat forward, working in efficient silence.
The navigational data was processed quickly, and we began our descent into the atmosphere, passing by one of many rings of communications satellites that glimmered, reflecting the pale light of the blue world beneath. The air thickened suddenly, resisting our path with orange fire, but the Destrier ’s shields and even her skin were impervious to something so trivial.
We burst through a dense layer of cloud that left beads of cool condensation on the windows before us. The gentle ripples of the ocean below soon gave way to the harsh and unforgiving jade sands that ended and resumed infinitely, part of a chain of endless islands that covered the planet surface. The navigational equipment blinked appreciatively, and I slowed and descended, approaching our city and our mandate.
We had arrived.
24
Making Contact
“There is much to do.” Argenta wasted no time and, with a few brisk movements, retrieved her personal belongings from a storage compartment beneath her seat and exited the ship, the long sheathed blade of Engeltrane wavering slightly with her each step. We followed her, stepping down towards the hatch and the curious golden light that filled the opening.
We stood in coarse sand, surveying the landscape and breathing in air that was heavy with humidity and carried so much more substance that the perpetually recycled oxygen of the Guild. The brilliant setting sun of this world beamed upon us, undeterred by only a few clouds, surrounded by a foreign blue that gave way to rich green. I paused for a moment, realising that I had not set foot on a planet in fifteen years, and breathed in the humid air, letting my skin embrace the heat.
“And here we are.” Janus stepped deftly through the sands at his feet, staring at the impossible skyscrapers that covered the darkening horizon, each one a cylindrical spire of fluorescent light that penetrated the clouds above.
“That’s Anion, isn’t it? The City of Refuge?” I pointed at the towers looming in the distance, wondering at their sheer immensity. Even from the beach, so far away, it was plain to see and even hear the unending bustle of the city.
“Yes, Fortuna. You are correct.” A gravelly and familiar voice suddenly emerged from our chronopatches, and we peered at them in surprise as their light shone with the Guild Emblem yet again, revealing three flames burning at its base. Our commander was a Centurion, and the familiarity of his voice lingered in my ears.
“For those of you who do not know me personally, I am Guild Centurion Natrium Ferric, and I will be your commanding officer during your time on Grand Ocean.” The voice crackled again, already demanding in tone, and even Janus found himself standing more rigidly than normal.
“Aren’t you an instructor?” Janus asked.
Ferric was quick to snap, “I was, and now I have volunteered for a return to active service, for reasons of my own choosing.” My friend smirked, yet did not continue asking personal questions. He looked out at the endless waters around us, staring at the waves that crashed into foam upon the green sand. I remained in heavy silence, remembering my last encounter with Ferric, and frowned.
“Centurion Ferric,” Argenta began, her chronopatch raised to her mouth, “with all due respect, why have we been dispatched to Grand Ocean and not Rck’ Hara? What is our mission here?”
“I couldn’t help but wonder the same thing. You know, it’s not that I’m unhappy about it or anything, since Rck’ Hara is a planetary war zone,” quipped the Ocean Dweller to my right, and I furrowed my brow, reminded of how the vast majority of the Guild’s effort was on the home world of the Bra’ Hca.
“I understand that this is a peaceful world, or so you have been led to believe; however, and most regrettably, our efforts on Rck’ Hara have been matched by those of the Malinvicta here, and in new and terrible fashion.” Ferric’s voice had lowered, carrying a grave tone, and my jaw clenched tightly.
“What are they doing here?” I could not mask the dread in my voice, kno
wing that if Erde could fall, so too could Grand Ocean. The hubris of the past could not be repeated.
“As you know, after Erasure, some eighty-five thousand refugees were relocated to Grand Ocean, and they were offered safety in Anion, leaving this world not only as the newfound heart of the Guild, but also as caretaker for the Erdesons and Erdedaughters who found their new home here. How do you think they fared on this planet?”
Discouraged, I shook my head and stated, “Grand Ocean’s resources were depleted a long time ago, sent to the war effort on Rck’ Hara. There was no way for this planet to support them properly.”
“Correct. These people were and remain destitute, funnelled into whatever hovels Anion could provide for them, and their population over the past fourteen years has swelled uncontrollably.”
“Yeah, that’s what poverty produces, after all—children. How many refugees are in Anion now?”
“Discounting those who have enrolled in active military service, there are over two hundred thousand of them, crowded into the slums of Anion and hated by most.” Ferric made no effort to conceal the sadness in his voice.
“What are our immediate orders, Centurion?” Argenta asked her question yet again, her hand resting lightly on the gold pommel of her nodachi as she gazed at the glowing city, which was rapidly immersing itself in nightfall.
“It would seem that the Malinvicta have taken a keen but unknown interest in this burgeoning population, and so your initial orders are to meet with Osmium Dunis, a security and law enforcement commander in Anion, for further details.” My companions offered their affirmation of these orders, and began walking back to the ship, their chronopatches deactivated. My channel, however, remained open.
“Centurion Ferric, I—” I did not know how to begin, feeling ashamed, but I found myself interrupted.
“This War has left little room for apologies, Sentry Fortuna. Focus yourself on the task ahead, and remember, you will soon regret your decision to remain a member of this Guild.” The communication channel was suddenly cut, and feelings of dread spread through me.
25
The Bastion
The Destrier ’s engines thrummed for only a few moments as we approached Anion, our orders clear. From high above, the endless glowing towers of the city formed a crescent, bound by walls of slowly deteriorating concrete and steel at its heart, with the blackening sea to its back. Janus pointed at a curiously grey structure, flat and broad, that did not at all resemble the vivid spires of violet and blue that assaulted the sky.
It was the Bastion, and it stood, embedded in the walls of the city as a stark fortress, its grim and simple architecture seemingly built more to inspire terror than any sense of security. The rooftop was a simple and empty slab of concrete, once built to accommodate emergency vehicles, that had long since fractured and fell into disrepair. I landed the Destrier as softly as I could on its surface, realising that in spite of its condition, the structure remained solid.
We departed, and were greeted immediately by a stooped and tired man who had been ravaged not by age but by experience. He was a wiry and prematurely balding Erdeson who peered at us with critical brown eyes and a permanently clenched scowl. The man was wearing basic polymer riot gear that had been patched time and again by whatever crude means were available, and he snorted, “So you’re here to save the world, huh?”
“I take it you’re Osmium?” Janus smirked, and the man glared at us, offering no outward sign of agreement.
“I had hoped the Guild would have sent someone who could at least inspire some confidence, but I guess you’ll have to do.” The security officer’s scratchy voice filled the air, and I narrowed my eyes. Nice guy! Really! I could hear Janus laughing within the confines of my mind as we followed Osmium into a nearby rooftop hatch and down a flight of grey, cracked stairs lit by flickering lights.
We entered a central glass-walled office that was sparsely populated by only a few other security officers, who leaned back into their chairs and polished their weapons absentmindedly. The office, like the outer structure of the Bastion, had fallen into shabby disarray, strewn with file reports and malfunctioning terminals that no one cared to retrieve or repair. Osmium grunted at them, and they begrudgingly rose from their seats, leaving their posts for whatever tasks they had been previously assigned. The tired man walked through an open doorway near the back of the room and sat behind a battered, stained desk.
“So, you’re here to help with my refugee problems, huh?” The security officer leaned back in his chair, both unenthused by and uninterested in our presence.
“We are not here to help you. You are here to help us.” A tinge of impatience could be heard in Argenta’s cool voice, and Osmium stared at her, thoroughly unimpressed.
“Yeah, I figured this is what I’d get. Typical overinflated Guild ego. Typical of children. Guess how much I care for the distinction you just made?” Osmium flashed an insincere smile of yellowed teeth, yet Argenta did not waver.
“Why did you call for Guild assistance?” she demanded, and the security officer propped his feet up on the desk, wondering how to begin.
“Well, I have over two hundred thousand refugees just past that wall over there, crammed into a space that could barely handle half of that,” Osmium sighed, gesturing vaguely at a nearby window, “and what’s tricky is that they’ve been disappearing.”
The security officer pulled on a desk drawer, and it did not budge. He gave it a quick jerk, rattling the desk, and withdrew hard copies of his reports. He tossed them resignedly in our direction and continued. “We first noticed that little problem when we were delivering algae to the slums—that’s about the long and short of my job these days, really—and there didn’t seem to be as many faces in the crowd.
“Now don’t get me wrong, disappearances in refugee camps—I mean, those happen every day. There’s no way to identify most of those people—they breed and live in squalor, and no one has any answer to any of it, but at the very least they usually turn up dead in some hellhole or another. They can usually be found.
“That’s not the case anymore. It’s like people are being erased altogether, and God knows I can’t find them, and God definitely knows that the Ocean Dwellers living on the right side of the wall couldn’t care less. So I guess that’s why you’re here now, or at least why I’d like you to be.”
“I hear you, Oz.” Janus smirked as we understood the man’s meaning. “You need us to employ some of that ‘the Guild does as it pleases and you can’t say no’ sort of charm, huh?”
“So long as you stay charming, yeah. That’s about the gist of it.” There was a brief moment of sorrow in the security officer’s face, and it perplexed me.
“Then we will depart for the refugee camp and—” Argenta began, but her eyes flared wide with the outrage of being interrupted. They seem to be hitting it off, don’t you think?
“Now just hold on a minute. I’ll give you a ride. Don’t get me wrong—I know that you’ve been taught that cruising down out of the skies in a warship should inspire people, but I know those refugees down there and, believe me, they hate you without even knowing you.”
“Why?” I asked, and Osmium let out a long sigh, even more exasperated.
With a depressed look in his eye, he murmured, “Let’s just say that the Guild doesn’t always treat people the way they should be treated, and I’ll leave the rest to you.” He rose from his chair with a strained look, feeling an age well beyond his years, and we followed him from the shabby office to a nearby quick shaft.
We descended to what was once an armoury that rested at the base of the Bastion. It was a cold and barren place, made especially uninviting by the striking absence of vehicles and weaponry. There were a few storage lockers strewn about along the concrete walls, some of them partially filled with basic munitions, while others still were left with their doors hanging open, revealing nothing inside.
“In case you’ve ever wondered what’s left once the Guild take
s its share, well …” Osmium shrugged, and the sheer lack of even the most basic resources was made clear.
We walked forward, hearing our footsteps echo throughout the chamber, and far ahead I could see two armoured personnel carriers, inert near an electronic gate. Each of them was a blunt instrument, painted in deep graphite and crudely patched over the course of several decades. Osmium climbed a few steps to a door and jerked on its handle. The metals of the chassis squeaked in resistance as the door swung open, and he sat behind a crude control system.
“They’re not friendly and they’re definitely not pretty, but they run when we need them to, which is to say every damned day. Algae deliveries. Get in.” The heavy hatch at the back creaked as it swung open to the grey floor.
We entered a long and rectangular space, dimly lit in orange with hard bench seating running down the length of either wall. There were no windows in the vehicle, and the computer displays of the outside world had long since ceased functioning. We sat in silence as the hatch sealed behind us, and the carrier soon roared to life, casting intense vibration through the floor and walls before finding its momentum and trundling from side to side.
“You know, I think Argenta made a friend back there!” Janus flashed his teeth, and a small smile spread across my face.
She was sitting across from us with her arms folded, and muttered, “It is absurd that I should be sent to this place.”
“You really can’t be serious—you wanted to go to Rck’ Hara?”
“I want to drive back the Malinvicta and nothing more, and before you ask, Janus,” the woman’s green eyes glittered under the orange light, “my reasons for doing so are my own.” Janus chuckled as if he had been offered a challenge, then shrugged harmlessly.
The personnel carrier lurched to a halt, its engine idling loudly for a moment and then falling quiet as it found its rhythm. The hatch at the back swung wide once more, and we exited into dusk.