by Reiter
“You have seen every deck of the ship,” Dungias pointed out.
“Yes, but I have not seen every room of every deck,” she said, smiling. “Do not worry, Dungias, I only want to see the one thing you have managed to hide from Nes without fail. Where is she?” Closing his eyes for a moment, Dungias gestured toward the nearest lift with his left hand.
“She is this way,” he said. With her normal grace, Borsidia started down the corridor and Satithe sent the lift car to their floor. “It seems I will need to remind Smitty of the definition of the word ‘promise’.”
“Let me know how you plan to achieve that,” Borsidia said. “Smitty left this existence three of your years ago.”
“No!” Dungias gasped as he stopped and fell against the wall. Borsidia was perplexed until she saw the look on Traveler’s face. She moved quickly to him to take hold of his hands.
“Forgive me, Dungias. That information could have been delivered with far more consideration. It would appear that you managed to keep a number of things secret from Nes.”
Shock and sadness quickly became ire. “I tire of Nes!” Dungias hissed, pulling back from Borsidia and punching the wall with enough force that the Chancellor jumped back. “I have done nothing to him. NEVER! And time after time I have to take his fears into consideration. If it is fear he wants, I will give him something to–”
The Realm Astral Guardian moved hastily to place a hand on either side of Dungias’ face. Her touch was soft but firm, and she gave a slight shake. “You will do nothing! If you must mourn the passing of a good friend, then do so. But do not allow your emotions to guide you.”
“No?!” Dungias barked as he took hold of her wrists. “Do you want to see my emotions, Borsidia? Do you?!
“Satithe, open the lift tube doors!” Dungias commanded. Satithe had only seen her master this angry once before and the actions he had taken then were not even the stuff of discussion. She opened the doors and opted not to say anything for fear she would only drive his rage to greater heights. She activated three of the drones and started taking measures that would hopefully stave off another planet-changing event.
Taking hold of Borsidia by the waist, Dungias jumped down the shaft, using his control of gravity to control their descent. Satithe had already opened the appropriate doors and Dungias landed in the corridor and marched Borsidia to the room where Jocasta slept.
“Here is Nes’ fear!” he shouted. “She is why he has reason to fear the unpredictable Dungias!” Borsidia wanted to be frightened of Dungias, and she felt she had good reason to be. She had trusted him with the belief that Dier-Nesekor could be a very paranoid individual. She thought he had taken the matter in stride and since it was needless fear, she believed he had never really paid any real attention to the subject. But something had changed… he had changed, and she wondered if she was looking at the reason for that change.
Her approach was slow and cautious. The way she moved was enough to keep Dungias from bashing the wall tiles. He would at least wait to hear what she thought of his work before letting his rage continue to burn.
“She is human?” Borsidia asked.
“She is unique,” Dungias replied. “She and her siblings are quite unique. They resemble human enough to pass for it, but they are hardly anything the human race, or anyone, has ever seen.”
“Siblings?” Borsidia inquired, looking back at Dungias.
The doors to the room opened and three drones brought in a plant from the arboretum, Dungias shuddered at the sight of it. His hand moved to cover his mouth as tears welled up in his eyes. Borsidia looked between Dungias and the plant as the drones set it down on the floor before moving to the corners of the chamber. The Traveler walked to the potted plant and wept openly, dropping to his knees. His hands took hold of the largest stalk of the plant and Borsidia gasped as some of the vines slowly moved to wrap around the Malgovi’s forearms and shoulders. The leaves were long, slender and nearly lighter than air. Dark green at the point where they were lodged at the stalk, the color grew lighter approaching the tip.
Despite having ridges, the leaves felt like silk and, given the right breeze, they would bend to catch the wind, making a soft whistling sound. The plant was named, however, for its most interesting buds. Soft lavender at the base, each petal was the reverse of the leaves, reaching a vibrant violet at the tips. As the two embraced, several of the buds opened revealing circular crystals at the center that shimmered in a light the plant itself produced. The Crystal Lily was a plant of great renown among the Vinthur; only a few of the best gardeners could even grow them. While Saru had made them flourish in the arboretum of her dreams, she had never succeeded in making one grow in the waking world. Her mate had fared no better in his first six attempts. The plant he now held, his seventh, was… unique!
“I am alright, Satithe,” Dungias whispered as his body began to glow like the crystals in the plant. “I am alright, my friend.
“And she was right… you both are! I have not been living. I have engaged into this Star Quest to a point where it is taking me. I am not taking it!”
“Forgive me, Master,” Satithe said softly.
“You gave me a promise, Satithe,” Dungias stated.
“I know, Master, and I am so sorry. “
“Or, as you stated, you gave Z’Gunok Tel Dungias a promise,” he added as he stood up and gestured to the plant. “I would hazard to say that lately I have been many things, but not one of them has been the Dungias to which you gave your oath. There is nothing for you to forgive, my friend.” The drones quickly came to take a gentle hold of the potted plant and lift it carefully. Dungias closed his eyes as the plant was taken out of the room.
“I would say the same of my friend and Master,” Satithe argued.
“Then I would conclude that we have yet to cure you of a tendency toward bias.”
“I have a very good teacher,” she replied and Dungias laughed.
“Dungias?” Borsidia asked, not sure if she should speak. She was relieved to see more of the Malgovi she had come to know and trust, but the moment looked very private and she felt out of place.
“Her name is Jocasta,” Dungias said, turning to face his Realm Astral Chancellor. “Jocasta Elise Endigun. That is the name I gave her, but she has given herself many others. Her story is not a simple one and I question if I am worthy enough to be the one to tell it.”
Using the time-keeping practices of the region, popularly referred to as Rims Time, it was (Primus) XII-3201.10; Janzur the tenth, twelve hundred and thirty-two years after the calendar had been ‘zeroed’ out in acknowledgment of the changing of the ruling family of the Inner Rim. With each month having thirty days, and each day was twenty-six hours long, a year (or orbi-term) to the Malgovi and Vinthur was forty days longer than a year in Rims Space. Still, it was a day to remember.
“Please be careful, Master,” Satithe had radioed as Dungias set foot on the hull of the enormous freighter. After a scan of the hull and the interior, Dungias had taken three steps to his left and then phased through the hull plating, setting down in a corridor where he had disengaged the intangibility field. His black skin was quickly returning to its normal hue, and Dungias had noticed that the more he exposed himself to the Void, called outer space in the Rims, his adaptations came more quickly and with far less drain on his personal energies; much like his continued efforts with the Jump-Stride. After his short flight from Xara-Mansura to this ship, he had contemplated creating an injector that would maximize the oxygen in his skin.
“I am fine, Satithe,” he had replied. “Please be sure to keep an eye on the attack craft.”
“They are all still floating without power at the moment, Master,” she had reported. “I doubt any of the pilots have the skill set to run the bypass procedure necessary re-engage their drives.”
“Be sure to catalog that iro-form emission configuration,” Dungias had ordered.
“Energy, Master. Not iro-form.”
“Rig
ht. Be sure to catalog that energy configuration. Our experiment was successful, but ultimately costly. I will need to find a more efficient means of generating the energy form and delivering the effect.”
“What shall we call it?”
“Call it a lancinator,” Dungias had concluded. “I want an emission system that is variable with regards to magnitude and frequency. There are many types of shielding in this area of the Voi– of space… not to mention the various forms of circuitry. We will have to conduct further tests and make it so that certain cultures already have a preprogrammed setting.”
“It shall be done, Master. I am still not able to scan the interior of the vessel, save for the imploded area.”
“Then allow me to assist you,” Dungias had said, reaching to activate the computer inside his arm bracer. Coupling it with the light-base abilities of Alpha, he was able to make scans and broadcast them to his ship.
“Receiving transmissions,” Satithe had reported, sounding excited to receive the boost to her vision. “We will have to do something in the future about boosting the range of your brace-com.”
“Sometimes I think she is too much like me,” Dungias had thought as he smiled.
His eyes had quickly adjusted to the dim lighting and the conditions of the ship were incredibly sparse. There were no wall panels. The ceiling and floor were equally bare, with only metal grating to support anyone walking along the corridor. It felt more like Dungias had found his way into an assemblage factory than a spacecraft when he reached a crude intersection.
“Master, on your right!” Satithe had warned. Dungias’ head was turned too far to his left to see what she must have spotted, and apparently whatever the matter might have been, it had slipped by the Traveler’s senses. He had hoped that meant he had time to move. Lunging forward, Dungias had passed through the wall, coming to some sort of storage room. He could feel the rapid approach of a powerful energy form, hearing open flames barreling down the corridor, bursting against the floor not far past what had been his position.
“A fireball?” he had hypothesized, remembering the distinctive feel of an energy he had never come to master: MannA. Engaging his stealth field, he had turned to move away from the source of the attack. He had moved close to the far wall of the empty room when there was another sensation, another manifestation of MannA in his area. A flash of light had produced two forms, both human and female. The taller, older woman had seemed on edge, pressed, and looking intently through the room. The younger woman was spent and on the verge collapsing. Both were dark-haired and brown eyed, but they did not resemble as familial relations might have.
“Can you feel it?” the older woman had asked sharply. When she did not receive a response quickly enough, she grabbed the younger woman by the hair and shook her head. “Answer me, Geeya!”
“Maga, please,” the younger woman had pleaded. “I can barely breathe!” Her head had been pulled back as the older woman had not released her grip until after Dungias had landed his flying kick to the older woman’s chin. His body had slowly come into the visual spectrum as his cloak gathered around him. He straddled the unconscious woman and slowly turned his head to look at the frightened young slave.
“You fed her incantations?” he had asked and the young woman quickly nodded while holding up her arms to protect herself. One arm had briefly brushed up against Dungias’ weapons belt. “And you did so willingly?” The young woman began to whimper as she shook her head ‘no’. “Easy, young Prynsura,” he had said, calling her by her first name, which she preferred over her middle name, and reactivating his stealth field. “… I have no need to harm you. But take note that this woman has enslaved much more than your body! Free yourself, while you still can.”
“Master,” Satithe had called to him as Dungias returned to the corridor. “I don’t know what you did, but suddenly I am able to scan the ship entirely!”
“Then we shall say that I did the right thing,” Dungias had remarked. “Have you found anything of interest?”
“Thousands of life-signs, Master. But wait, the number just dropped significantly. I was reading well over ten thousand and now I am reading just over nine thousand… now eight.”
“Coordinates!” Dungias had shouted.
Upon receiving the requested information, Dungias had jumped up, engaged intangibility, and dropped through the grating. He had descended through three decks when his body entered a chamber large enough to assemble each deck of the Xara-Mansura. The walls and aisles were lined with holding pods… pods containing sleeping bodies and Dungias could see the flesh turning black before it began to lose form. He could hear machinery powering down as he passed the top level of pods. As he continued to descend, Dungias had disengaged intangibility to increase his rate of speed.
Satithe had reached the count of two thousand as Dungias neared the floor. Extending his senses, Dungias could feel the impulse of power moving through the pods triggering the death of so many. He was not linked with the system, so he knew he did not have the option of commanding a stoppage of the carnage; nor could he see a console that would have given him any hope of saving any of these people. Without receiving direction of any sort, Alpha had created a column of anti-gravity that took hold of Dungias’ body and removed the momentum his drop had generated. He had landed with only a slight bend of the knees.
“So little time,” he had thought as his hand found his pistol. “By the will of the Stars!” Drawing his pistol and quickly firing, Dungias had scored a hit on the junction box between the last two sets of pods. Sparks flew and Dungias turned away from the blast, lifting his cloak to block the showering flames and arcs of electricity.
“You are not yet done, Star Chaser,” a familiar voice had called to him, and Dungias quickly holstered his weapon as he turned back to the pods.
“No, I have not stopped it,” he had discovered. “I have only delayed it. Something still travels through the pods!” Dungias had lunged forward, reaching to the small of his back where he kept his latest construct.
His study of the Rims had yielded much that varied from the ways and means of the culture that was his own; but it had also yielded many similarities. Among them, the blade! Malgovi steel was more ornate and definitely more balanced; Vinthur blades were sterner weapons usually possessing a better edge. Dungias had taken the best of those approaches, but married it to the styling found in the Rims, specifically what Dungias had come to call his weapon housing. He had crafted two: one small, kept at his back, and one large, tucked in behind the sleeve holding Alpha. Drawing the smaller housing, Dungias had tapped the middle of three buttons and the virtual goggles had formed in front of his eyes, allowing him to target not only the striking point, but the arc the weapon would take. Throwing the device so that it spun end-around-end, flechettes sprang from both ports and quickly formed a large eight-pointed star-like weapon. Dungias’ overhand throwing motion caused the weapon to arc up and slash down at an angle, separating several of the pods from the main housing. The weapon then returned and the flechettes broke from their cohesive form as Dungias’ hand caught the housing. The flechettes returned to their place and Dungias put the weapon away so that it could replenish its charge. The separated units fell to the floor as the other bodies began to suffer from rapid decay.
“Iro-form build-up,” Dungias had detected as he turned to look up at one of the upper decks. A figure was standing on the catwalk, leveling a pistol at Dungias, and the Traveler set his gaze upon the barrel of the weapon as he drew his own gun. The Star-Stride was still with the Traveler and he had only grown faster in engaging it. “I mean an ‘energy form’ build up!” Dungias did not move as the figure fired, just missing Dungias’ head. He had been slightly surprised to see a device emitting energy, as the projectile was the more common weapon style in the outermost regions of the Rims. As the man had adjusted his aim, he clutched his shoulder from receiving the Traveler’s return of fire. Still trying to succeed at his aims, the figure had fired aga
in, but the shot was quite wide of Dungias. The Star Chaser’s second shot had not been intended to wound. The figure had dropped dead with its shoulder and chest smoldering.
Dungias had moved as quickly as he could, using a gravity field to drag two units as he carried one on his back. He made his way to the shuttle Satithe had piloted; the drones moving quickly to collect the ones he could not carry. Once aboard the shuttle, Satithe brought all ten aboard the Xara-Mansura. One by one, they had been taken to the infirmary by the drones leaving Dungias to gaze upon the damaged spacecraft as his own ship powered up its drives. Escape ships were launching from it and Satithe had reported she was reading distress signals that had been received and acknowledged. If her master wanted to maintain his current level of discretion, the Xara-Mansura would have to depart from the area. Without hesitation, Dungias set a course for open space and erected an aperture to take him to the InterVoid.
“And that is when you came to me,” Borsidia said as she put her hand atop of Dungias’. “I suppose I should have noticed something when you landed your shuttle. You had finished Satithe already, hadn’t you?”
“Yes,” Dungias admitted. “She was not yet ready to meet you.”
“And how did you come to that conclusion?”
“She told me,” Dungias explained, and Borsidia’s mounting anger was almost instantly quelled.
“Oh,” she said flatly, turning back to look at Jocasta. “And Nes was so worried that you had returned for devious and destructive measures that he summoned me to intercept you.”
“For that, I have no regrets,” Dungias concluded. “Had I asked him for assistance, he probably would have turned me away.”
“No, he would not have done that,” Borsidia stated. “But it is highly unlikely he would have told you to go to Smitty.”
“I don’t think I can thank you enough for that, milady.”
“You said you were working with genetics,” Borsidia recalled. “A field of endeavor well outside of your extensive area of comfort and superior skill. But I think I responded most to the look of determination I remember seeing in your eyes. It was stirring!”