Starchild- Exile, page 4
“And he wrestled the chief.”
“Maybe I’ll tell that one next time.”
“Okay.”
“On Solace, the miina helped him build a village that felt more like home, and the boy grew old with his new friends.”
“But you didn’t tell the first interstellar flight yet.”
“I know. Even as an old man, the boy felt pretty curious, and that was when he finally figured out how to use the surge drive. He took one miina buddy with him and left on what became the first interstellar flight, the first time anybody ever went to another solar system. That was probably pretty shocking too, to see the swirl of infraspace for the first time, with no one to warn you what it would be like.”
“I can’t wait till I get to go interstellar.”
“You will when you get a little bigger.”
“And that was Aion Zero?”
“Yep, that act marked his place in history forever, and he became known as Captain Jethers Skyreacher.”
“I wish I had that ship.”
“Ha ha. So do I.”
“Then what?”
“Uh… The colony never heard from Captain Skyreacher again, and we don’t even know where he was buried, but after two aions The Elizaan returned to Solace full of pirates from Terron Prime. The pirates had much better weapons—”
“Rifles.”
“Yep, rifles. The pirates conquered the miina of Solace and took every Photoss artifact they could find. They used the tech as best they could, which gave the humans of Terron Prime a huge advantage. They manufactured atmosdrives to fly through their own air. And zentisal drives let them explore their own solar system, and that was when they found the surge gates. That let lots of people travel from star to star. It connected the galaxy like never before. It also made people fight over who controlled the surge gates, and that war is still going on.”
“You skipped the Bloody Armada!”
“I was getting to it.”
“Okay.”
“When the pirates looted Solace, they unearthed a bunch more ships that were the sisters of The Elizaan.”
“And they could go interstellar without a surge gate.”
“Yep. So people fought over them, killing and murdering just to have one. So much death and war happened that they became known as the Bloody Armada.”
“I don’t see why they can’t just make more.”
“No one has figured out how to make a surge drive. Or a surge gate.”
“But why not?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can’t they just look at one and build the exact same thing?”
“Well, it’s complicated. It would be like you trying to build a targrav. Just because you can see it, doesn’t mean you can recreate it.”
“I’ll bet I could when I’m a little older.”
“I know you could. But for now, we’re stuck with what the Photoss left behind.”
“I wish I could figure it out. Then everyone could have one.”
“Maybe you will when you grow up.”
Whenever Nak thought of that night, he smelled grease and atmosfuel. It wasn’t just another story though. It was the last story.
And the last time he’d seen his dad alive.
* * *
Beep, beep, beep.
The whirling storm of infraspace calmed and calmed until it was nothing but a dark blanket pricked with stars.
Nak grinned beneath the dread mask.
As The Spirit came back into normal space, any nearby ships would’ve detected no electromagnetic disturbances of any kind. One moment housed empty space; the next carried the ship steadily along, whispering across the blackness. He didn’t even need to burn zentisal fuel to create his initial momentum.
It was a thing of beauty.
He assumed few other Bloody Wing pilots knew how to do that. Because these drives were so valuable, governments monopolized most of them, and the rest were controlled by big corporates. That divided the flying among large crews and bogged it down with standard procedures, preventing anyone from getting good at the fine details. Few in the galaxy had clocked as many isos at this either, making him one of a kind.
Just like his ship.
The space surrounding Toar’s solar system was filled with dust that looked like a common atmospheric cloud, a vast vapor, frozen in time. The rays of the nearby sun reflected off it in strands of electric purples and smeared blues.
He pressed the internal comms button and leaned forward: “We’re on approach, landing in half an iso.” He had a mirror on his dashboard for keeping a subtle eye on anyone behind him. He saw Dray in it, sitting patiently, silently. “How’d you get roped into this mission?”
“I’ve been to Building 13 before.”
Nak looked over his shoulder in surprise. He knew the gist of the story, but it hadn’t seemed real before.
“After my military career ended, I spent two percents of my life incarcerated.” Dray seemed a little too kind and a little too calm to match the profile of an inmate. “I’m somewhat of an expert on Building 13 now.”
Nak raised his eyebrows and nodded. He’d been caught by the Witch Hunters once himself, but he managed to get away before getting his own reluctant tour of Building 13. “I can’t imagine what incentive could drive you back into the place. Seems a little risky doesn’t it? I mean, you’d know better than anyone.”
“It’s a long story.”
“I don’t mean to pry.”
“No, I’ll tell you.” Dray gave a wry grin. “Seeing as how you’re my friend.”
“We hardly know each other.”
“And yet I’m probably one of the people you trust the most.”
Nak’s mask stared blankly at the comment.
“This could also be one of the last conversations I ever have.”
“You wouldn’t go in there if you didn’t think you’d make it back out.”
“No, you wouldn’t, but I am not you.”
Nak nodded. Fair point.
The truth was, on the Feath job, Dray had gone beyond the contract, beyond his own self-interest, and risked his life to save Nak’s. That strange fact made no sense. Nak kept looking for a reason, a moment when Dray would suddenly demand repayment, but it hadn’t yet come, as if Dray had done it simply for the sake of helping a person who needed help.
That strange fact also defined their relationship.
Nak wanted to reassure Dray, tell him he wouldn’t die, that it wasn’t his last chance to get something off his chest, but this mission had extremely high stakes, and just one hitch could be fatal. Or worse. And while Nak prided himself at keeping cool under pressure, marching into Building 13 required guts at another level. Guts he admired. Or maybe it was just plain stupid. Must’ve been some girl in there.
Dray said the next sentence with an uncanny calm: “I helped create the Witch Hunters.”
Out of respect, Nak’s mask withheld any response.
“I hunted down radiances. I captured them, took their freedoms in the name of safety, while calling it my duty. I did that for percents, till the laws I’d enforced on others were enforced on me, well, on my family, and I broke. I tried to save them, but I failed, and my actions landed me here on Toar as a prisoner.” Dray bowed his head. Not with a shameful expression, more as if out of reverence.
Nak was surprised but couldn’t show it on his face and didn’t know how else to express it. Again he said nothing.
“After escaping Building 13, I became an exile, on the run from nearly everyone, a bit like you. I was tormented by what I’d done. Without my family, I had no future. I wanted to die. Till almost magically I found Master Jyngsoo. He taught me to calm my mind, and I began to see. I realized my purpose was to make amends for my crimes. I want to give the galaxy a government better than what they have.”
“You don’t like our government?”
“The galaxy would be up in arms against the PSD if their deeds were transparent.” Dray’s tone began to transform from reverence to passion. “But they’re safe, and do you know why? Because no one believes how deeply they’re entrenched in every aspect of our lives, how much they control us!” He took a deep breath and calmed himself back down.
Nak breathed quietly through his mask.
“I’ve seen it from the inside. This galaxy is filled with selfish, short-sighted children, people who can barely take care of themselves, much less anyone else. They’re driven by fear instead of reason. Fear drives them to hurt other people, like I did when I hurt those radiances. But now I’ve overcome my fear.” Dray paused, leaving his words to linger across the silence and the hum of the zentisal drive.
“So you’re trying to fight the thing you created.”
“Yes, but I don’t just want to stop the Witch Hunters. I want to stop the thing that created them. I want to put an end to people’s fear.”
“How?”
Dray’s demeanor shifted again, battling for calm. “We’ve spent aions squabbling over the same old things. We have great potential, but we need guidance to reach it. We’re children in need of a parent to show us the way.”
“And who would that be?”
“A new government.”
“So you’re planning a revolution.”
“Yes.”
“If you don’t die down there, are you going to regret telling me all this?”
“No. I trust you.” Dray stared with a pervasive calm, looking so deeply it was like he could see through the dread mask.
“Not sure Benton would want you telling me though.”
“Benton doesn’t know you like I do.”
Nak laughed.
And then they sat in silence.
Nak’s mask looked toward the black of space where the tiny dot of a red planet grew in size. “I hope you’re not waiting for me to take my turn at a last confession. I’m not risking my life in the Strand, remember?”
“I don’t think—”
“Skyreacher? Skyreacher!” The clients hadn’t seen his face or gotten his real name. The shout came from down the hallway. Not a demanding shout, just an overzealous one, considering Nak was in the cockpit.
He felt glad it’d interrupted his turn though. “I’m right here.”
He swiveled his chair and watched as two figures came down the hall: a human and a miin. If he weren’t wearing a dread mask, he might’ve greeted them with a smile. Instead he touched a finger to his masked eyebrow and gave them a lazy salute.
First was Benton Xylander.
The man who’d chartered the mission.
On Dray’s referral, Nak met Benton in a dark cantina on Skalkurian.
The low lights seemed to enhance the sounds of tinkling drinks and murmuring patrons. Nak liked to start these interviews by letting his mask do a little silent intimidation while he sized up the potential client.
“You must be Skyreacher,” said the client. He was around fifteen percents older than Nak. The front corners of his thick hair had retreated slightly, giving him a snooty widow’s peak. His narrow face had a straight nose that ended abruptly, as if measured with a straight edge. His eyebrows slanted upward in the middle, giving him a lasting expression of sincerity. His ears stood out more than they should’ve, just enough to throw off his otherwise uniform aspect.
Nak leaned forward under the warm table lights. “You’re a zhan? You don’t look like a monk to me.”
“That’s because zhani aren’t monks.” Benton took it well, keeping his cool on nearly every topic, including Nak’s exorbitant price. He came across as exceptionally competent, and he seemed like a nice guy, maybe a little too nice.
That didn’t stop Nak from probing till he found a weak point: “So this woman—she’s your daughter?”
Benton became as rigid as a man holding his breath, like he expected a mynosh to jump out of the conversation at any time. “No.”
“Girlfriend?”
Benton squinted at that comment, squinted like he was hiding a cringe on the inside. “Can we keep this professional?”
Of course Nak could be professional, when he wanted to, but he needed to get an emotional read. “Fine. This woman is of marginal importance to you.”
Benton put his hand over his mouth, as if the phrase had been so far from true he could barely keep his protest from spilling out.
After one round of drinks, Nak knew two things: This man could be trusted, and he’d pay a lot of money.
So Nak took the job.
And now the two of them sat together in the cockpit of The Spirit, only now Benton wore the armor of a redhelm. “Here, you take that one,” said Benton in his distinguished tone.
The fourth member of their outfit entered the cockpit walking on six legs. The miin curled a little awkwardly into the chair designed for humans. He folded his upper, shorter arms across his chest, a strangely human gesture, while his lower ones rested on the arms of the chair. The fingers on his paws rested against the floor, splayed out in an inhuman way, and one claw twitched, tapping against the metal floor. When Nak was a kid, he wondered what having that extra pair of arms would be like, a thought that crossed his mind again now. Though he’d seen plenty of miina in his life, they still held some intrigue from his childhood. To him, they were creatures straight out of myth.
The creature’s name was Liink Adiin. His feral head was covered in short, dark fur everywhere but the island of his face. The matted mane spiked up and back every chance it got. From the profile view, his cranium curved forward into a snout like a wildercat’s. From the front, his ears drooped to the side like wings, sloping toward his jawline. His large eyes sat wide on his face and formed an obtuse triangle with his dark, wet nose. And despite being a little murky, they still conveyed the keenness of a soul. His mouth curved back and down above a strong jaw. His thick lips seemed to have been bunched together with needle and thread. Crude leather armor covered his body. He wore a blood-red sash around his waist.
When he’d first boarded The Spirit, he pointed at the plants growing in the hallway and said, “You cultivate life. That shows reverence.” He spoke with a voice slightly higher pitched than you might expect, a voice that was small, humble, timid in tone, but bold in its clarity, quietly bold.
“I eat them,” Nak had replied.
“One can honor what is exchanged for his own life.” His tone was smooth as a hot drink. He had an accent too, which added a dash of alien sour to the soothing liquid, a voice familiar and foreign. Nak always wanted to hear a little more.
Once Liink sat, the four companions watched the red planet growing in front of them. Sible was a massive planet with low density, much too hot to survive on—with nothing to stand on if you’d tried. They were just close enough to see her moons too, one of which was the place they’d meet their death or glory.
Benton leaned forward and stared out the ship’s glass screen. “Wow. I’ve never seen a planet spinning so fast.”
Nak dimmed the cabin lights, making the vista outside all the more impressive, shining brightly by contrast. “Toar’s just as bad. Just wait till you’re on the surface and see the shadows.”
He navigated toward the moon called Toar, a giant with a terrestrial surface and breathable atmosphere. Some strange collisions must’ve birthed Toar and put her on her present course. She spun so quickly that you’d notice a difference in weight if you moved from the poles to the equator. If she rotated faster, the velocity would tear her apart, but somehow Sible gave her just enough stability and just enough warmth to be a viable home to biological life.
Pling! One of the panels pulsed with a jarring waveform and turned red.
“What was that?” asked Benton.
“It’s picking up seismic activity on the surface, not far from our landing site.”
“A bomb, maybe,” said the miin.
“No, it’s not a war,” said Dray. “Massive quakes happen often here. It’s very unstable.”
Benton faced Liink. “Our intel is a little vague on this point. The explosions might not be natural. Possibly a byproduct of one of their research projects.”
Nak let out a lazy sigh as he clipped on two shoulder belts. “Okay, boys. The fun’s about to start.” His tone revealed the grin beneath his mask. As his passengers locked in their seat buckles, he tapped the manual-mode toggle, grabbed the horns of the steering yoke, and just for style rolled the ship in a looping barrel roll as they dove toward the surface. The targravs pulled them toward the floor, only partially masking the twisting momentum.
The Spirit’s black wings glided through morphing orange clouds, moving forward and down at a steep angle. At these higher altitudes, Toar’s constantly turbulent winds shook the ship, jostling the passengers back and forth.
Once they descended low enough, the winds calmed. Then great cracks in the landscape became visible, and smoke billowed out of them, curling and drifting with the wind. The bottoms of many of these chasms glowed orange with molten lava, flowing like reluctant water.
Benton leaned back against the headrest. “What are you doing?”
“Relax.” Nak eased off the descent as they neared the surface, shallowing his slope and reducing his speed. He still dropped fast though, closer and closer, till the smoke from the cracks breathed all around them. He steadied her out, flying parallel to the surface and exceptionally low.
Once they finished falling, he activated the atmosdrive, which could accelerate fast enough to make a mortal go unconscious. He kept his speed high, aiming toward some strange rock formations that reached skyward like gigantic fingers, eager to claw down the tiny ship. Smoke floated upward, putting a veil between them and whatever lay ahead.
“Are you sure we need to be this close to the ground?” asked Benton.
“If we go higher, the heat won’t hide our signature.”
A pair of massive rocks shaped like agonizing towers suddenly appeared through the smoke, zooming toward them.
Nak wrenched the yoke, and The Spirit rolled onto her side, threading the space between without a moment to spare.
