Vontaura

by James C. Dunn

  Dimal’s mouth moved, but no answer came.

  ‘Anyway, you’re not to say anything to him. That’s an order.’

  The co-pilot scoffed. ‘As captain?’

  He nodded. ‘As captain.’

  The air was humid, and whiffed of sweat and dirt. Aíron Veryan’s dark-red head bobbed from side to side, mind in overdrive, as she fought to remember everything Raj Timbur was saying. The young engineer was not much older than her, and at least six feet tall – still no patch on Shree, however. He was incredibly scrawny, with bright eyes and dark skin. Raj was handsome, but not overly so.

  He was guiding her through the complex under-compartment of the Flux, revealing all the hidden areas they had apparently smuggled goods and people in for some years. Aíron followed, nodding, but she wasn’t really hearing his words.

  In truth her mind was elsewhere: up in the cockpit with the captain and his sidekick. Adra Dimal never left him unaccompanied. How was she supposed to get any time alone with him when he was never on his own?

  ‘And you remember the old weapons guy I told you about?’ Raj said excitedly. ‘You remember I mentioned Estoy?’

  ‘Yes, I remember you saying.’ Aíron gazed around the filthy compartment and wiped a black smudge from her otherwise immaculate arm.

  ‘Well this is where the old fella’ died!’

  Aíron yelped and almost somersaulted back, cracking her head on an overhanging pipe. She fell to the ground, where she burst into tears.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Raj said. ‘He didn’t suffer.’

  ‘I don’t care!’ she shrieked, picking herself up. ‘I don’t care about Estoy. I don’t care where you shot any stinking rat. I don’t care what compartment you were cleaning when Shree almost said her first words!’

  Raj looked stunned and fell silent. Luckily for him, however, his leather-covered wrist comm sounded:

  —We’re about set to land boys and girls . . . and Noah, Justus’ voice came through. Weather seems to be nice and warm. Hurry on up . . . oh, right . . . out.

  The two looked to each other. Raj’s head dropped slightly.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m simply not used to living like this. I mean, look at me. I was a princess back on my old home, before the Crilshans came. I’m not accustomed to dirt on this scale.’

  ‘Well I am,’ he said, and he took her hand. ‘Come on.’

  The two clambered back up onto the craft’s main deck. Raj shuddered with excitement.

  ‘You’re happy,’ she said.

  ‘Everyone is,’ he said. ‘Our first trip to Earth. It’s a big deal. And it’s your first visit to another fully-terraformed planet. It’s . . . wow.’

  Aíron sighed and let go of Raj’s hand. Truth be told, as excited as she was, she was terrified of stepping onto an alien world. Okay, it wasn’t alien. But to her there was no difference. She looked down at the dirt dug deep into her fingernails.

  ‘Eughh,’ she shuddered.

  Raj stopped. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’m going to go and clean up,’ she told him.

  He sniggered.

  ‘I mean it. I’m all grimy. You go on up to the cockpit. I’ll be two minutes.’

  She left him and wandered back to the quarters she had been sharing with Shree. She washed up quickly, swilling her face with freezing water, before proceeding up to the cockpit. On the way she passed Captain Justus’ room. His door was slightly ajar. She bit her lip.

  Don’t even think about it. You don’t want to.

  She stepped inside. The small box-room was not as she had imagined. It was clean for a start. Despite their observable intimacy, Justus and Dimal didn’t share quarters. She had witnessed Dimal’s room; it was nowhere near as bright as this. A portrait of what must have been the original crew hung lopsided over the bed. Books were organised neatly on a shelf high up. They ranged from history and languages to engineering and combat techniques.

  He’s nothing like the horrific stories about pirates, she thought. He’s intelligent. Sharp. Handsome.

  She leaned over and touched the bed. Upon the mattress, greyish and worn, was a small book. A diary. Very aware that she was on the verge of stepping over that invisible line, she opened the tattered booklet and flipped towards the back. Upon the last page he had written very few words, not arranged left to right or top to bottom, but all over:

  The moon is our ally . . .

  For Peter Marx . . . I’m sorry . . .

  For you, mother . . . I miss the most . . .

  And then, below that:

  gilaxiad gilaxiad gilaxiad gilaxiad gilaxiad gilaxiad

  . . . seek the answers on Earth . . .

  gilaxiad

  ‘See anything you like?’

  She dropped the book and spun to see Justus in the doorway, arms folded. ‘I’m sorry, I . . .’

  ‘Was on your way up to the cockpit.’

  ‘I . . . yes.’

  Her face swelled bright red. She thought he would be angry. But not a trace of resentment was visible in his jaded smile. ‘C’mon,’ he said. ‘You’ll want to see this.’

  FIFTEEN

  FLOWING GREEN VALLEYS stretched out beneath the Crimson Flux. All six crewmates watched from the cockpit. Aíron thought it was beautiful. Almost reminiscent of her home, Manera, now a pile of rock and ash. A city shone in the distance, its uppermost spires thrusting above the treetops.

  Justus cleared his throat. ‘This is where I come from. This is Francium. The Second River of Earth. Home.’

  Dimal brought the Flux to land, while Justus guided her down. To awfully specific coordinates, Aíron observed.

  ‘This is the place,’ she heard him tell Dimal.

  ‘What place?’ Aíron asked. They didn’t answer.

  The ship set down in a small, grassy opening, flanked by a thick forest and leading onto an oval-shaped, deep-locked marina. All six disembarked the Flux, confused as to why Justus had brought them to the deserted lake. All was quiet and not a hint of life disturbed the peace.

  Aíron stuck close to Raj, who towered above her, smiling. Comforting. But she made sure to keep an eye on their captain, who in turn remained close to the blonde, curly-haired co-pilot and whispered every few seconds in short, nervous breaths. Dimal looked just as confused.

  With the exception of Justus and Dimal, none of the crew had before stepped foot onto the light-aired surface of humanity’s original home. Aíron didn’t like it. The air was cool. It smelled strange, and was bitter to taste.

  ‘Don’t fret if you find yourself a little heavier out here,’ Justus told them.

  ‘Why did you look at me when you said that?’ Noah asked.

  ‘Gravity’s harder here than what you’re used to on the Flux. It’s similar to that on Mar-Andra and other Bravoralian moons.’ As he said it, Dimal shot him a glare and glanced towards Noah.

  Noah cleared his throat. ‘Which of the Rivers did you say we are in?’

  Raj cut in front. ‘Rivers?’

  ‘Yes,’ Justus said. ‘Seven Rivers make up the dominion of the Von.’

  ‘The Von?’

  ‘Damn it, Raj!’ Noah said. ‘Don’t you know anything?’

  Raj turned on him. ‘I know how to control my own bladder!’

  Aíron sniggered.

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’ Justus stepped towards the wooded area close by. ‘The Von, for the most part, control and govern the planet. Their power is focused here: the Seven Rivers, all across Euro, while the rest of Earth is governed by other autonomous communities.’

  Noah continued, showing off. ‘Though the Von nevertheless retain influence in these autonomous communities,’ he said. ‘And they represent the world on an interplanetary basis. Isn’t that right, Justus?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah that’s right.’

  ‘Lovely,’ Raj mocked.

  ‘So,’ the grumpy medic said, ‘is there a reason I’ve been brought out here? Or was it simply to muddy my . . . oh my trousers too! Right, I’m going back insi
de!’

  ‘Just wait,’ Justus said sternly, looking out across the lake. ‘This place is personal to me. I’ve got to go for a while.’

  ‘Go?’ Aíron asked. ‘Go where? You’re not leaving, are you?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I just need some time.’ He pointed across the blue-green body of water to a small island set in its middle. ‘There’s something over there I need to see. None of you need to come with me.’

  ‘Oh, good,’ Noah said, and along with Shree he turned to go back inside. ‘Too cold out here anyway.’

  ‘I’m gonna’ go with you,’ Dimal said, taking his hand.

  Aíron frowned. ‘And me,’ she said. There was no way she was staying out of this one, too.

  Justus considered her a moment, before nodding.

  ‘You’re sure?’ Raj asked. ‘Stay with me.’

  ‘I don’t want to,’ she said. ‘I want to go with them.’

  ‘Would you stay with the ship?’ Justus asked him. Raj looked hurt. But he nodded, took a brief look at Aíron, and retreated back on board.

  The three took out the Flux’s inflatable raft and speedily set it up. Justus seemed in an awful hurry. Not a word was spoken as they moved across the open water, as though dread was building among them at what waited ahead. Justus’ head remained bowed in thought, his eyes difficult to discern in the lingering light, lost among the trees behind them.

  Soon enough they found the bank, and clambered up, one by one, onto the tree-infested island. Justus took out his torch and directed its light through the impossible gaps in the tree line. He led the way through, slowly but surely, until they came to the other end of the small island.

  ‘Blast,’ he swore, and turned back again, leading them through thick ferns which tore at Aíron’s blue, knitted jumper. ‘Where is it? Where is it?’

  ‘What’s he looking for, Adra?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I wish I did.’

  After several sharp minutes, by which time the sun had completely disappeared, leaving their surroundings pitch black, Justus stopped near to the isle’s centre. Silent and completely breathless, he knelt down. Aíron and Dimal moved behind. Her captain’s hands braved thorns and bristles to pull apart the undergrowth, revealing a stone mound. It was laid into the ground and faced up, circular and smooth.

  Aíron listened carefully to the silence around her, and amongst the hushed movement of birds and the trickling of water at the island’s shore she could have sworn Justus was crying. It scared her more than anything. Before she could move forward, Dimal had leant in and rested a hand on his stooped shoulder.

  ‘Who is it?’ Dimal asked.

  Justus didn’t answer. He stroked the top of the smooth stone tomb. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.

  ‘Is this why you left?’

  Silence. Aíron turned away from them, stifling her own tears, half home sick, the other half she wasn’t sure. She gazed through the tree line at the Flux on the other shore. Still able to hear the other two, she stepped towards the edge.

  ‘Antal. Tell me. I’m here.’

  The lights from inside the Flux were just about visible in the distance.

  ‘Antal, who is it?’

  Raj would be sat there . . . alone. She should’ve stayed with him. She wasn’t wanted here.

  ‘She . . . She’s . . .’

  Wait. Lights. The other side of the lake.

  Aíron focused.

  A dozen of them. All moving . . .

  . . . towards the Flux!

  ‘She’s my mother,’ Justus said.

  Aíron turned and rushed back.

  ‘What happened?’ Dimal asked.

  He opened his eyes and looked up. ‘I killed her.’

  ‘JUSTUS! DIMAL!’

  ‘Quiet!’ Justus hissed, standing and lighting his electric weapon, which ignited and sparked a threatening red. He pointed it through the tree line and cried, ‘Stay still. I can see you!’

  Aíron looked ahead and shuddered. A single shadow hung before them. Then it launched itself sideways. Justus fired the coiled weapon and blinding lightning, crimson red, burst through the trees. An ear-wrenching boom! followed and the shadow was gone.

  As though in reply another thunderous boom! could be heard behind, in the distance, back across the water.

  Justus spun. ‘The Flux!’

  All three tore for the boat, and as they reached the bank Dimal cried out in horror.

  ‘NO!’ Justus screamed.

  Across the lake, glowing like a roaring comet and raging like a furnace, the Crimson Flux exploded in a blinding eruption. A heat wave tore through them.

  ‘NOOO!’

  Dimal threw her into the boat and they shot back toward the other side.

  ‘What is it?’ Dimal shrieked.

  ‘DOWN!’ Justus yelled, and he forced Aíron to the bottom of the boat as loud and powerful whizzes could be heard above.

  ‘The others!’ Dimal sobbed.

  Aíron stayed quiet. Petrified. Unable to say anything. Raj is in there!

  Shouts and screams could now be heard.

  ‘Whadda’ we do! Whadda’ we do!’ Dimal cried.

  Justus stood high and fired the coilbolt. BOOM! More bullets shot by in reply. BOOM! He fired again. BOOM! BAROOOM!

  ‘ANTAL!’

  ‘We’re hit!’ he cried. ‘Into the water! GO!’

  The following moments unfolded as part of a truly horrible nightmare. Aíron fell over the side, headfirst into the freezing water. She plunged under, then back up, and under again. She could hear the melting Flux. And as her breath was stolen from her, madness took hold and the burning craft, her new home, disappeared as well.

  SIXTEEN

  MISTRESS SUDANA CLOSED her crinkled eyelids.

  Thoughts and memories amassed around her. Dim ghosts and obscure impressions of pale reminiscence assailing her mind. The world around her soundless and faded. A gentle tugging on her sleeve brought her focus to the child at her side. And though she knew the infant was not really there, painful tears surfaced and the child was quickly gone. The child was her. Back before the horrors of Europa. Back when long, beautiful auburn hair had covered her head and shoulders.

  She called the little girl her Echo Child. For Sudana, her echo only presented itself when the memory was present. It gave her profound ability, but prevented her from doing the one thing she wished she could do. Forget.

  Sudana blinked deeply and returned to the present. She averted her gaze to the blood-filled sky now consuming the cockpit’s casement and the men stood around her watched intently. She wiped the leaking from her eyes, and staring sternly at them deflected their eyes. She breathed out and pulled the veil back down.

  ‘Ifratin! Iburanil da hurtadinea,’ a shrewd voice declared over the intercom. ‘Welcome to Titan. Protectorate of Crilshar and the mighty House of Dishan.’

  Sudana ignored the message and nodded to her captain. ‘Take us in slowly.’

  ‘Yes, Mistress.’ He guided their craft deliberately unhurried towards the many emerging domes. Within could be seen a thousand glimmering lights. But no surrogate sun, she noticed. These Crilshans wasted no time switching off the lights. Darkness and night would be the norm from here on out, and she knew she had better get used to it. She would not be leaving for some time.

  Even after the horrors she herself had witnessed, Sudana found New Titan gloomy and frightening, exactly what one would expect from anywhere touched by the Dark Race. The atmosphere of horror and dread impressed upon her very bones. Like bubbles in a pond, the twelve rounded domes fused into one great city. At the centre, as her Crilshan escort drove her through the dark-filled streets, Sudana craned her neck up to see the central city’s great edifice. Around it, silver streaked towers were laid out before her like a dense, impenetrable forest of metal.

  Not a single being was in sight, but every so often the Crilshan presence made itself known. Wire fences had been erected on every other corner, barricades and chec
kpoints to keep the indigenous population in check. Rotten, ruined scenery told the story of a once thriving world, the light and beauty once treasured now a decaying shell, ready to be interred. Sudana smiled. A greater city for the Dark Lord’s plans she could not envision.

  A dome-like building stood out among the columned towers: the Command Dome, once home to the government of Titan, now Crilshan base of operations. What had happened to the government, military leaders, and council people she imagined she would soon find out. Then again, the Crilshan forces would tell her what they chose to. That sort of attitude was why she was here. That sort of attitude was going to be stamped out.

  SEVENTEEN

  THAT NIGHT, SUDANA looked out of the office of the Lady of Titan, no pane or fanlight yet installed to protect her from the bitter cool evening air. The looming lip of her hood hung low and the white-haired child sat beside her, sallow and whimpering.

  Far below a group of Crilshan soldiers passed by the Command Dome in the direction of a lesser city. They dragged a young Titanese woman by her hair. She screamed and kicked. They laughed and cursed in their dark tongue.

  Sudana looked away.

  No respect. No mercy. No light.

  She moved to sit at her desk. The sound of a gunshot passed through the streets. The frightened child whimpered and faded.

  The office of Lady Maxim Pinzón was homely. Sudana could almost feel her old friend’s presence within it. Ah, poor Maxim. Poor Ximma. Dear agent of the Córonat and now the victim of a fate worse than death, sent to rot below the prison moon Hellfire. Oh much, much worse than death. Maxim Pinzón had been her friend beneath Europa. Before it all changed. Before their lives were turned the wrong way up.

  Or perhaps the right way, she mused.

  A knock on the door preceded the Crilshan general’s entrance. He entered and stood still, waiting for her to look up from her desk. She allowed him to wait a little longer. Through her veil she watched him grow impatient. He moved to the window’s edge. He was a typical Crilshan: neat and unexceptional in his appearance. His vulgarity was obvious by his very manner. He looked at her in disgust. She was, in spite of her role, impure.

  When he spoke, Sudana ignored him and continued to read the preliminary reports on the screen embedded in her desk. He cleared his throat several times.