I.
The Avatar is just a person at heart, no matter what these alien ghosts are pressing into his brain; Jordan C. Wilde still exists.
Though his body isn't exactly mortal anymore, is it?
Not mortal and quickly being reshaped by foreign ideas and ideals, overwhelmed with knowledge about the universe itself, and this galaxy's place in it. Why it exists and how. Why he is the one who needs to protect it.
And he wants to protect it.
There are currently distractions from this commitment, however.
"You know Sul, if you don't like hanging around here, you can just go back from wherever it is you came from," Jordan says, to his usually terse companion, while laying in the surprisingly soft grass outside his new home. He's very tempted to send him there himself, for complaining about his apparent failure to entertain him.
The egg-shaped flying temple hovers above them, casting a thin shadow; Jordan's eyes glide across the many moons that move beyond, on strange paths across the star-speckled sky over Oban. It never gets truly dark here, though sometimes the larger moons cast deep shadows.
The lion-maned Drudgers are frequently building new structures, which includes the small, domed shelter nearby he has set up in, for the time being. He doesn't give them orders, but they seem to be able to predict his needs. Jordan also suspects that they are the ones bringing him supplies at the temple; bedding and clothes and baskets of food, though he never sees them do it.
"I could," replies Sul, after a long stretch of silence.
"So why don't you?" Jordan takes a bite out of one of the round, palm-sized, golden-yellow fruits, which he likes best of what he's been offered here. Nothing tastes familiar, or even looks the same from before, not like an apple or pear from Earth. He's not even sure if he really needs to eat, but he likes to.
His senses are so enhanced, that he can perceive wild colors he didn't know existed before, hear the different sounds, sharp and deep echoing across the cosmos. He can see the magnetic waves that bend and push out between objects and creatures, like twists of oily cellophane. Even the air around him seems to have a faint texture
Sul can sense much of it, too, he's gathered, and he's even learned a bit from him just by watching the Gumarian manipulate energy fields.
Most of his first few months as Avatar – time works differently here, and there is no single sun to set, but he has a sense of how long it's been - Jordan spent adjusting, suspended in a sort of shock and ecstasy, which was cut through with the deepest grief he's ever known - from the loss of his former existence, of his partner.
And then there is all of the freaky, psychic, borderline-magic stuff - the voices inside his mind; cries from across the galaxy for vengeance or for help; flashes from what might be the future or the past. That's not even getting into the truly supernatural part of it, the magic of the Creators, or whatever force it is that fuels their their power.
He's glad the Creators could tell him how to disengage his sixth sense – another ability that the Avatar gets. It's too overwhelming, and he's still learning to sort through of all the other noise bouncing around inside his head breaking his concentration. He's learning a great deal every day.
Most of the noise lately is coming from Sul, who prefers to communicate by telepathy when he can, much to Jordan's annoyance.
Sul has nothing but the most esoteric of questions to ask the Creators, but can't communicate with them directly, powerful though he might be. He seems to resent Jordan for this, which is starting to make him regret saving him. He doesn't seem to understand that the Creators are just ghosts, and they refuse to answer anything that might hint of them controlling the galaxy's fate again.
As the Avatar, he has a lot of important things to do, besides field questions from him – to help shepherd new worlds out into the galaxy, to brush back the dark entities from the galactic edges, and keep them from ripping off bits of it away like pecking crows.
Sul doesn't seem to care that there are other forces, just as destructive as Canaletto out there, not just what Jordan is tentatively calling "the Scavengers", which seem to be the least harmful of them. Evil echoes growl out from the depths of space, from other galaxies. These other creatures would take millions of years to even notice the Milky Way according to the Creators, but Jordan is scared of them the same way Satis feared Canaletto.
He's started to understand that not all of his enemies are going to be as straightforward as the Crogs. Though the Crogs are a problem – they'll regroup eventually, and then Earth will be at risk.
"I have my reasons. Oban holds many mysteries, and I intend to investigate them. How one such as you came to earn the throne of the Avatar, is just one such mystery," Sul replies. He stays floating not far from him, and makes no attempt to go exploring as he so pompously announced he intended to do.
Jordan tries to brush off the insult. Fat chance Sul has at hearing the story from him now. He is used to not knowing, or caring much about things that don't particularly interest him, as evidenced by the few unfortunate times he was forced to try to pilot.
Now, there are bright, fading voices, wisping through his thoughts, calling him to care about everything under a million suns; he is not supposed to interfere in their affairs, not take sides; he must allow civilizations to rise and fall under their own power, per the will of their people.
He must also, somehow, conversely, keep them safe.
This particular contradiction is confusing him greatly. Maybe Sul would understand it, but Jordan is too irritated with him to ask. To think he'd been dying for company before.
"I'm the Avatar, because I was the only one who could stop Canaletto," he says, flatly. Let him chew on that for a while. He doubts Sul can understand things like love and sacrifice.
The non-interference thing though, he guesses they don't want him giving his planet special treatment. The human race are only one of many peoples under his protection. According to the Creators, the people of Earth have only the slightest clue as to how incredibly fragile and precariously placed they are, so far away from Oban on that watery blue dot.
Jordan can see because they taught him how, and it's terrifying. It seems obvious that the Crogs will annihilate his home if he allows the war with them to escalate again.
The temptation to wipe out the Crogs completely, before they can do any more damage, is strong; part of him really wants to do it. Jordan hated those towering hairballs way before he had even heard of the Great Race of Oban. They'd killed thousands of Earth Coalition soldiers without remorse, and betrayed his grandfather when he tried to negotiate with them. What gave them the right to stomp over everyone, and take whatever they pleased?
Wouldn't he be just as bad as they were, if he did do something like that, though?
"Make yourself useful if you're just going to float there," he says to Sul, though asking for his advice doesn't sit well with him. "Tell me, what do you think would happen if the Crogs were suddenly gone? Like, they just disappeared?"
It isn't that he wants to do something so extreme, but they didn't seem understand anything but violence and oppression.
The kind of Avatar Jordan wants to be, is kind of like one of those superheroes from the comics he used to read as a kid; someone who sticks up for the little guy, by beating up the bad guys; who stops the train before it goes over the cliff. He knows things aren't even close to that simple anymore, aren't so black and white, but it's a hard mentality to shake.
The Creators gave him all sorts of colorful warnings about the repercussions of interfering where he does not belong. Every action forced a consequence, and if he does not act with care and forethought he can do world-shattering damage. Where the Avatar went, destiny shifted, and would bend to his will. He thinks that they make it sound like all he has to do is breathe wrong, and poof! There goes a planet.
Surprisingly, Sul answered him. "A temporary solution, to a temporary struggle. Perhaps there are those that would celebrate their genocide, but every civilization would forever after tremble in fear of the name of one who had annihilated an entire Empire. Even if you were to do such a thing, the Crogs would be replaced, their empty spaces filled, by yet another warlike and expansionistic race - as the annals of galactic history have consistently shown."
Sul's flat expression seemed to shift to something resembling a hard smile. "Perhaps your own people shall be the next Crogs, Avatar, if you clear the way for them. What will they call you ten-thousand years from now? Jordan, Avatar of the Human Imperium? Jordan the Destroyer? A little less elegant than being called the Timeless One or the Lord of Purity, though."
Jordan's face twists up in anger at him. "What? I'll never let that happen. And we're nothing like the Crogs!"
He got up and stomped away from Sul, tired of his cold, three-eyed face, which reminded him a little of Aikka – whom he didn't hate, but definitely had had his differences with.
In a blink, he teleports back to the flying temple, to the upper enclosure, which holds a huge pool encircling the central pillar. The water teems with little, orange, fish-like creatures which simply appeared one day. He sits on the edge of the pool, and summons up over the water, the image of a globe of lapis and emerald and pearly white, watching it turn.
The people of Earth had done horrible things to one another, in the past, true, but he didn't think they'd ever–
Well, Satis had seldom seen the need to intervene there, even when humanity had been at it's worst. Though, according to what the Creators said, he wasn't expected to. To them, Earth is just another seed growing, going through it's life cycle, and on Earth that happens to include a great deal of vicious, bloody conflict.
Jordan can look at his homeworld whenever he wants, can use the Avatar's magic to see down to the blond grass on the ground, the sharp crags, sprawling deserts and wild oceans, all its cities laying like a crust of dull silver in the day, and gold veins in the night, across space and time. He can change the landscape if he wants, make the ground shift and the seas boil.
He could even watch Molly if he really wanted to - could watch over her shoulder like she were carrying a camera. Her little spark of life is easy enough for him to pick out among the billions of others.
It would be creepy to watch her for more than a few seconds or so, he thinks. She'd probably punch his lights out if she knew he'd been spying for even that long. It's enough knowing that she's safe, back home with her dad, going to school.
She goes by her real name, Eva, now. It's pretty, but he'll always think of her as Molly.
He wonders if she thinks about him, as much as he thinks about her.
The Creators certainly do not sympathize with his mortal desires and hangups, being ghosts and all, with their own codified purpose. They think he should be able to let it all go like they did. He is the Avatar, belonging only to the galaxy and to Oban, or something. But he isn't wise like they are and hasn't lost of all of his mortal hopes and dreams to time.
He is in love with a girl he can't be with, a girl whom he's going to outlive by nine-thousand-and-nine-hundred years, and he can't help it. He can't help wanting to be part of her life while he can.
For the Avatar, it seems, individual lives are supposed to be like those of ants – brief, insignificant, scarcely worth noticing. Every little life down to the ladybugs and lemurs is equal, to hear the Creators speak of it. Earth is an incredible world, full of beings who just want to raise their families and be safe, be they ants or men. Jordan is biased towards the men, however, and that is never going to change.
He has to try, reply the Creators, because spiraling around along with his planet, sharing their galaxy, are thousands of other worlds. Each with their own unique flora and fauna, beautiful and diverse, and as important to each of their own peoples as his world is to him. Like Aikka's lush Nourasia, like the ruin of Rush's Byrus, and those of the other racers he and Molly met.
Not all of the knowledge that has been dumped into his mind is entirely welcome; he feels terrible for not wanting to care about all the myriad tiny details of this planet or that, especially those ones full of grotesque sentient creatures that don't even look like people to him. And then there's the Crogs, who he doesn't think he can ever forgive.
He's selfish, he can admit it. He doesn't want to be fair or kind to these others, wherever they are. Yet, he also doesn't want to fail at the biggest, most important job in the galaxy.
It... it's going to take time.
Jordan longs for the familiar, for the crisp blue skies over the town where he was born; the sound of his Dad's laugh, his mother's smell of spring flowers and skin cream – even though she drove him crazy when he had to live with her.
He never got to introduce his parents to Molly, and this really upsets him at times, just like the thought of never seeing any of them again. The only reason she might meet them now, is over him being gone, and he doesn't want that sort of sad thing passed between people he loves so much.
It's hard to think about. He knows his family and friends are going to be okay without him, even if they're heartsore and they miss him. Molly didn't want to leave him behind; he certainly didn't want to be left or to watch her go, but he had no choice.
And it's not that bad. He's not dead.
Honestly, he's doing what he always wanted to do, which is protect them all from the bad guys, however they manifest. Jordan hadn't first picked up a gun because he wanted to eat a bowl of cereal with it, for goodness sake. With this power he can defend what's important, and in a bigger, better way than ever.
He misses Molly so much though, misses her so much his heart aches.
Perhaps Satis went through the same sort of homesickness and longing for his loved ones. The little guy had been annoying and weird, but certainly seemed to have a fondness for being around people. He occasionally gets flashes of the former Avatar's life, but nothing concrete; nothing in context, which would help him understand how Satis dealt with these things.
Jordan has seen Satis' homeworld of Adalou, a quietly thriving ball of white-streaked green, in the catalog of populated worlds which the Creators gave him access to. The planet sits peaceful, almost cut off from the rest of the galaxy, on one of the spiral arms farthest from Oban, not unlike Earth.
If Satis ever interfered there, he can't find evidence of it. The Creators are completely mum on the subject. Maybe he hadn't needed to do much more than keep it from being whacked by passing asteroids; maybe he visited there whenever he felt like it. It wasn't like there was anything anyone could do to stop him.
"Oh heck with it, I'm going. I'm going home."
He's been agonizing for too long, and it can't hurt to just drop in and say 'hello', can it? Satis seemed to be able to sneak around just fine, pretending to be the Avatar's representative when they were on Alwas. No one even recognized him for what he was.
There hasn't been much time to think about it, until now. The Creators put him to work right at the beginning of his reign. Satis had been so close to the end of his power; he used the very last dregs of it to bring in people for and to run the race, all while simultaneously staving off something as powerful as Canaletto. He hadn't been keeping up with his usual duties.
This left Jordan to do all of the clean-up, which included using his power to restore his new home - Canaletto's entropy blast nearly wiped out everything on the face of Oban - and taking care of that grumpy, significantly weakened, blue-skinned mage.
He'd fished Sul out of a pocket dimension not long ago, after feeling the dregs of Canaletto's power coming from the courtyard outside the Temple of the Heart. It felt like a sort of seal, and though worried what he might be releasing, he opened the portal, thinking that anything Canaletto didn't like had to either be powerful beyond imagining, or in some way a force for good.
Sul did thank him for that, at least. He'd been trapped there for the equivalent of three Earth-years, completely alone. It's hard to believe it's been that long already, when on Oban it feels like it has been mere days.
How to do go back without being too disruptive, though? He's been thinking about time and space, dimensions and portals, and the distance from Earth to Oban a lot, lately.
Jordan studies the globe, looking right at the spot in the southwestern side of North America where he knows Molly is, and he has a wonderful, terrible idea.
II.
"Take her up, Little Mouse," Rick says into the headset, flicking a stray lock of his long black hair back over his bare, tattooed shoulder. Moving over to where Stan and Koji are watching, the mechanics using makeshift tables of old, half-rusted fuel cans and weathered planks to hold their equipment, he monitors the screens from over their heads, and grins.
This is the best feeling he's had in a while, even if he's not the one in the cockpit.
Sharp gusts of hot air from the engines of Eva's new star-racer, throw back stinging dust. She rises from the large clearing, hacked out of the tall pines which covered most of his property, until she's hovering next to the hangar. It's a sunny June morning, and the weather is perfect for a little turn around the block – though they'd need another pilot for there to be a race. Rick is having serious pangs of jealousy, but it is what it is.
The sleek dual-engine racer is unpainted, and doesn't have a gunner's pod like the Whizzing Arrow. This prototype is clearly built for nothing but speed and maneuverability - although he can see three different panels where weapons might be easily mounted. It's what his dad would have called 'a beaut'.
"Flechette Mark I, looking great," says Koji, adjusting his glasses as he looks over to his gruff partner Stan, who gives a thumbs up. "Let's see what you can do, Eva."
Eva circles above the clearing, and does a tentative roll. Rick knows this is going to be amazing run for her. He can see her up in the cockpit smiling like a devil over at her father, who is standing next to him with his arms crossed, clearly disapproving. She turns the racer onto the track, then she's off like a shot, and Rick fixes his eyes on the monitors again.
Honestly, had Don really thought she'd quit racing?
Rick already figured that the answer would be an unequivocal 'NO!' once she'd had some time to rest. After what happened on Alwas and Oban, Eva had every right to take it easy for a while. When they talked, they didn't talk about racing, instead she'd be complaining about school and telling him how she looked forward to graduating soon. She barely even talked about Don – though they seemed to be getting along.
He hadn't heard from her much in almost six months – not since she and Don came to stay over during New Year's - but then summer hit and with it, her birthday. Eva had to be eighteen to pilot a star racer competitively – no one knew about Oban after all, except the five of them, and a few government officials, so Eva couldn't exactly tell people she'd already won the greatest star race in the galaxy, at a much younger age.
She seems more than ready to have another go at it, however, though the stakes aren't so ridiculously high this time. And for some reason, Don has been trying to obstruct her.
Rick only has Eva's side of the story – and he believes her, shaking his head to hear it, because Don tried to do it to him right before he quit, though for different reasons. In anger, her father said he'd have her blacklisted from racing if she ever tried to get back in the pilot's seat.
All bets were off after that. She jumped on her rocket seat, and made the trip all of the way out to his place in Flagstaff, from Fresno in just under seven hours. Having taken a number of dangerous shortcuts through the tailbone of the Sierras, she then dared the blasting heat of the open desert, before she reached the milder climes of this fair city.
Eva gave him only a few minutes notice that she was in town, and arrived windburned, sunburned and angry as hell.
Out here, it's just him and sometimes a friend or two hanging out when he's not working. Since Rick doesn't race or get a paycheck from endorsements anymore, he's become a personal trainer three days a week, for some fairly wealthy clients, and also teaches kids to ski during the winter. Anyway, there's plenty of room here, and he likes the company.
Although, going around town with her can be a bit awkward. She's young and very pretty, and he's been a bachelor for a while, so, after the first week, people started to talk - including folks like the staff and regulars at his favorite bar, old Sam at the tattoo parlor, and his gutter-minded friends at the gym. They don't seem to get that Eva is like his little sister, and always will be - no matter what the busybodies think.
Despite the trouble, he doesn't mind her staying as long as she wants to, since she needs some time away from Don. Anyone who is close to Don needs breathing room, sooner or later.
Rick wishes Don would have told him about her sooner, or, even better, told him everything. Unfortunately, he chose to make everyone around him unhappy, because he couldn't deal with the one shit card life had dealt him. Instead of taking comfort in what he still had, Don broke his kid's heart even worse, pretended she didn't exist, and drove her to chase him all of the way across the galaxy to get him to acknowledge her.
The more he thinks about it, the more disturbing it gets, and that's not even including when he realized that Don tried to use him to replace his family, while simultaneously never letting him be his friend. The jerk went on letting him believe that Maya Wei was his cousin the whole time they were together, and Rick, more interested in racers and having fun, didn't give it much thought.
He still wondered if the rest of the crew had been under a gag order. Their industry wasn't so big, that at least a few of them wouldn't have known about Maya and Eva.
Thanks to the fact that he and Eva insisted on remaining close friends though, Don has tried hard to get back into his good graces. Not that he's doing all that great of a job of it, at the moment.
He'd made a decent start when they came home from Oban, by finally apologizing, and paying out the rest of the money he owed Rick from that last race – what five, almost six years ago? Money Don had refused to hand over, unless he did what he wanted him to do. When he quit, he told Don to choke on it.
Maybe Rick hadn't been spending his winnings too wisely at the time, but when he was twenty-one, he was an adult; if he wanted to blow it all on partying and helping his friends out, it was his choice to make.
He's more or less forgiven him, but he still took Eva to get her racing license against his wishes. Rick knew she could have gone on her own if she wanted to, but Eva really has this thing about being alone, being abandoned. He can never repay her for giving him a purpose and a new direction, when he thought his whole life was over, back on Alwas. Standing by her, and supporting her is the least he can do.
Also, Rick isn't a tool, so Don is here - dressed in his starchiest shorts and a white golf shirt - after he called him up to let him know his kid was safe.
She would race again, even if Rick had to start his own company to get her in. Come to think of it, Thunderbolt Racing did sound pretty nice...
"Eva hasn't piloted anything but a rocket seat in years. And she's not used to this sort of environment. She can't go all of the way out there into the wilderness by herself!" Don says.
Rick is very close to walking Don to his car and telling him to come back when he has a grip on reality. He takes a deep calming breath through his nose instead.
"Listen, Don. Miguel sent that ship up here for her to try out. Stan and Koji built it for her. They know what she did, and how important that it is. There is no one else around who can pilot like she can, and if she wants to do it, you need to get out of her way. Once she has the hang of the controls and does a few laps, she's not going to want to do some kiddie track."
Don doesn't look convinced. He flings his hand up, pointing in aggravation at the serrated, volcanic crags of the San Francisco Peaks. "Who is going to go up there and get her if she crashes? Or if it breaks down?" he asks, scowling like his face might break if he ever experienced something fun.
"I find either of these scenarios exceedingly unlikely. Besides, she's not going up the mountain. She'll stay on the track, and yeah it's not at all flat out here in the pines, but she'll manage. It's like you don't trust any of us."
"How can you of all people say that? I only want what is best for her and for her to be safe," he snaps, begging him to refute his words so that he can throw back that Rick has to live every day with the effects of a horrific crash.
Sure, he can do without the words 'traumatic brain injury' always coming up where he's concerned, but Don doesn't know that he has found meds that do the trick pretty good, along with a few workarounds. He's never going to race professionally again, not even really supposed to drive because of the off-chance he might have a seizure - but he hasn't stopped living. Or, stopped taking his dual-engine homebrew dune racer out into the red, rocky scrub a ways out of town and getting up some speed, now and again.
"She'll be fine," he says, as Eva's voice chimes in over the radio.
"I'm taking a detour into that canyon on the map," she explains, and they watch as she bears east down a side trail, which leads to a stream bed carved deep in the dark gray rock.
"Careful, Little Mouse, it gets pretty narrow about a quarter-mile down and there's usually people fishing. It's public property, so ride high," Rick replies, while Don side-eyes him harshly.
If she can stay near the top of the canyon, he thinks that it shouldn't be a problem. Magnetic engines are a lot quieter and safer than combustion ones, and it isn't like she'll be breaking out the turbo-boosters in this kind of terrain. But try telling that to Don Wei.
"Will do," says Eva.
"I don't suppose you're friends with any of the law enforcement around here? I understand the fines are quite high for trespassing with unauthorized vehicles or harming the environment, in certain places," says Don, like Rick is trying to get Eva in trouble or something.
"She's not doing anything wrong, Don." Rick has a feeling he's going to need to take a trip downtown after this, for a drink. He'd thought that Don had mellowed, was actually starting to like him again, but this whole affair has resurrected his least favorable qualities.
"Dad, stop it!" yells Eva. "I don't even know why you came, if you are going to be like this."
"I came because I wanted to try and beg you to reconsider what we talked about. You were given a very generous offer by the Earth Coalition to become their liaison to Nourasia. I'd hate to see you throw away a promising career in diplomacy, in favor of a sport that is so subject to the whims of fate," snaps Don, disparaging his own line of work to try and sell her on this liaison business.
Now, he understands. Not many people knew about it – Rick only knows because Eva told him well after the fact - but Nourasia sent a delegation to Earth a few months after the team returned. They invited Eva to visit their homeworld, as Prince Aikka's guest, but the government tried to stop her, insisting she go with a group representing the Earth Coalition.
Eva being Eva, she got herself "kidnapped". She and Aikka's retainer escaped from Earth without notice, leaving the rest of the small group of Nourasians behind to hammer out the details of a possible alliance. She returned a month later, safe and happy, and the delegation left – apparently with little progress made. From the way Don is talking, the government is hounding him to try and change Eva's mind about working for them.
"You know, a lot of those Coalition guys are pretty shady, Don. I don't think she should get mixed up with them again. They threatened to put me in jail if I ever said anything about the Great Race," Rick says. The Coalition also seems to be rife with factions, because in addition to the threats, they gave him hush money. It was like they couldn't decide how to handle him.
"I understand that, but Nourasia is of highly strategic importance to the ongoing fight against the Crogs. To have them as a permanent ally would be invaluable. Eva can help prevent the Earth from being taken over by those monsters; she needs to think about this more seriously," Don says, lecturing like she can't hear him.
"Well, it's all up to her in the end. Right, Eva?" says Koji, who looks back at them with a thin smile. Stan is grumbling something, and Rick can't make it out, but he's pretty sure he's not agreeing with Don.
Eva stares into her dash cam at them. "I'm not doing anything for the Earth Coalition, until it acknowledges to the whole world what Jordan, what Rick, what we all did for them," she says flatly, and Don covers his face with his palm in frustration.
"Yeah, I can see where that could be a sticking point," Rick says, concerned, because it's been a long time since he's heard her mention Jordan. He's not going to speculate about what did or didn't happen between the two, because she's never wanted to talk about it; he does remember that Jordan seemed to have been developing a thing for her, not long after she started piloting. He'd been too distracted with other matters at the time, to pay it much mind.
"And if I see Prince Aikka again, it's going to be on my terms," she growls, and the racer jets forward like she's jammed her foot down on the propulsion pedal, rushing down the rocky corridor.
"Hey, Eva, check your speed. Rick said to take it easy around there," says Stan, which breaks the tension marginally. Eva's fraught, angry expression falls and she gasps, as she comes to her senses.
"Right, sorry. I'm going to circle back, it looks like this opens up over a lake," she says, and makes a wide u-turn, going low over the water, and whipping the racer gracefully towards the canyon.
"There's a straightaway coming up once you get around that stand of trees, you can kick it up a notch there if you want." Watching her on the split screen, Rick is extremely tempted to jump in his own less-streamlined racer, to go join her.
"Got it."
"They are going to lose their minds, when we bring her down to Monte's track outside Phoenix," Rick says, looming over Don, with a wide grin on his face, daring him to contradict him. "Are you going to represent her, or am I?"
"You wouldn't," Don says, gawking at him like he's never considered the possibility that his daughter might join a team other than Wei Race, if she did race.
Rick lowers his shades just a centimeter and looks him the eye. "Try me."
Infuriated, but knowing he's not bluffing, Don turns away, and Rick can hear his teeth grind. "You two have been nothing but trying lately. Very well," he sighs.
"Yes!" Eva laughs, and pumps her fist. "Thank you, Dad!"
"I'm not going to go easy on you. If you think just because-"
Before Rick can comment that Don has never gone easy on anyone, especially her, Eva interrupts them both.
"Wait. What's that?" she asks, and then they see it too, a ray of bright light, flashing over the forest, beaming down from the sky above, like when the Avatar's egg-shaped spacecraft took them away to Alwas. There is no sign of a ship anywhere, though.
On the monitor, Rick sees Eva's eyes widen, and she puts the brakes on the racer, hard; her jaw drops with shock over whatever it is she can see that they can't. "It's him. He came back!" she says.
"Who is it, Eva?" Rick asks, looking down at Don, who seems to recognize the tone in his daughter's voice. He looks like he's seen a ghost.
"Jordan."
III.
Eva lands the Flechette in the middle of the track, where she's very nearly just run Jordan over with her racer. He's still glowing a little, and she's not exactly sure if she moved in time or if he made the ship go around him.
She pops the canopy, which hisses open, and she jumps down to where he's standing smiling at her. Eva launches herself into his waiting arms.
"I missed you!" they both say, and he's hugging her so tight it almost hurts; she's caught between laughing and crying she's so glad to see him. Jordan feels warm and human, even though he's radiating a sort of golden light, not unlike the last time they saw each other. At least his feet are touching the ground.
Eva pulls back to get a good look at him. His dark eyes, bushy, black eyebrows and brown, freckled skin are all the same, but he's wearing a heavy white robe, which is so long that it drags on the ground; it has the Avatar's sigil on the front and back. Also, the side of his hair that he used to bleach has grown out, but he still keeps it short, so he looks like himself, yet not.
"Did you get taller?" Jordan asks, though he has half a head on her, regardless.
"Maybe a little. You're glowing," she says, with a laugh, wondering what he thinks of her haircut, or if he's noticed the pale tattoo on her arm that matches the sigil he wears.
Jordan's cheeks flush, and he looks to the side, embarrassed. "Yeah, it's kind of a side-effect, I think. This the first time I've tried to travel to another world without a ship."
"Wow, that's crazy. How is that even possible? And how did you know I'd be here?" she asks, curious, since she'd only told a couple of people where she was staying.
"You're pretty easy for me to find, since you touched the pyramid of power. It sort of remembers you, and I can – I don't know how to put this – shift my resonance to where yours is. I'm not completely sure how it works, but I just knew where to go, Molly," he says, talking soft, but a little too fast, like he's nervous.
Hearing her other name, for the first time in a long time, makes her stomach flip.
"Slow down, Jordan," she says, touching his cheek. He's not glowing anymore, except with the sunlight on his skin.
She's not sure if it's a good idea, but Eva draws his face down, and tentatively puts her mouth to his. Jordan doesn't waste her invitation, and kisses her back with a fierceness she wasn't quite ready for. It's so much better this time, and yet, when they draw apart, she feels a pang of grief.
He came back, but they both know there's no way he can stay, and she can't let herself forget it.
"I've been dreaming about kissing you like that," Jordan says.
"Yeah, me too," Eva says, with her face pressed into Jordan's chest, trying to hide any sign of tears, before he notices. He hugs her around the shoulders tightly; when he sighs into her hair, she feels the weight of all of the things that neither of them has said, double.
"Where are we by the way? Is that your new racer? Oh man, it's awesome," Jordan says, like he's trying to lighten the mood between them, looking around at the tall evergreens lining both sides of the dirt track, before his eyes settle on the Flechette.
"We're at Rick's place – I kind of, well, I have so much to tell you, I don't even know where to start. Do you want to come see everyone else? You picked a great time to visit. They'll all be so glad to see you!" Though, right at this moment, she wants to keep him to herself.
"Yes, but I can't stay long." His hands slide down her arms, and he grasps hers in his.
"How long?" The tears threaten again. Why did it have to be like this? Why did he have to give his whole life up for her? She knows he did it willingly, but she can't help feeling guilty.
"Maybe a few hours, maybe less. I'm not exactly all here, I'm kind of stretched between here and Oban, in a way. I'm a part of Oban now," Jordan explains.
"I don't really get how that works, but it sounds kind of painful," Eva says, wondering what it's really costing him to be here. His life has to be so different from hers, the things he has to deal with so strange and frightening.
"Not exactly comfortable, but it's worth it," he says, smiling, brushing off her concern.
Eva nods, and smiles back, reassured. "Maybe, next time, I can come and see you."
"I'd like that, but we both have work we have to do, first," he says, looking away, towards the sky, like he's seeing something that she can't.
"What do you mean? Like your duties on Oban?"
"Well, yeah. You'd be amazed at how long it takes to scare off a flock of intergalactic scavengers. Anyway, I heard you and Don talking a few minutes ago – I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to eavesdrop. I pick up a lot of these things whether I want to or not, because I can hear on so many frequencies now. And like I said, it's easy for me to sense you, so once I got close I heard you over the rest of the noise-"
"It's okay, really. I'm sorry you had to hear that," she says, embarrassed, knowing she's been being childish. She does mean it though, when she says she wants recognition for Jordan and their team.
"No, I'm glad I did. I think it would be great if you wanted to work with Aikka. If you could help get our worlds to stand together against the Crogs, you'd both have a better chance of holding them back in the long-term."
Eva wonders what he thinks she can do, as both she and Aikka feel helpless. "We talked about it when I visited him, but our planets are so far apart. One of the reasons the Crogs have so much advantage over both of our worlds, is because we're so isolated from other civilizations."
"I know. There might be something I can do about that, though."
"Oh?"
He nodded eagerly. "I learned something interesting from saving Sul, and it all clicked. I think the Nourasians might be the best ones to help me implement it," he says, though he's being so vague she's not sure what he's getting at.
"Sul? What do you mean?" Eva asks, remembering the harsh, dispassionate magician who disappeared from Oban during the race through the Night City.
"I found him. Anyway, an inter-dimensional path or portal, between worlds would solve a lot of the communication and travel issues you have – I'm not sure yet how they would be protected, though - and there's some nasty stuff, between dimensions. I have a few ideas," he rambles, and seems to be thinking out loud.
Eva's jaw drops. "Wait, you want to do what?"
"Create a passage that would allow travel from Earth to Nourasia instantly - and any other world that wanted to join an alliance against the Crogs. The only condition would be that a state of peace would have to exist between the allied worlds. Otherwise, I'd have to close the portals."
"Jordan, something like that could either be really amazing, or go horribly wrong, so easily," Eva says, though she is intrigued. If she could travel to Nourasia or Oban whenever she wanted, it would be a dream come true. However, she didn't want the Crogs having easy access to either of those places, or Earth.
"I know, I didn't say it was a great plan, I'm just working this out as I go along. But I've found something like it on Oban. Remember the smaller portals all over the temple? And how similar the ruins on Alwas looked to the ones on Oban? It's because, before the portals were destroyed, you used to be able to travel between them, from one world to the other, just like that!" he says, snapping his fingers.
"Woah. But something like that is so useful. It doesn't make sense to let it fall apart. I guess it was Canaletto, then?"
Jordan nods. "The Creators say he destroyed the whole network, though he used it to do a lot of damage first. It was so bad, Satis spent most of his time and energy when he was Avatar containing Canaletto, and repairing the worst of the harm he caused. That wasn't one of the things he ever got to. The Avatars before them though, I think they were very involved in keeping the peace and building the galactic community. Most of those massive ruins on Oban didn't belong to the Creators; there were people on Oban, lots of them, from all over the galaxy. Canaletto wanted them all dead."
"We need to talk to Aikka," she says, exasperated at all the information Jordan is tossing out. Becoming the Avatar has changed him deeply. He's a lot more thoughtful, and there's a sort of calm that radiates from him; but underlying that, she can still detect hints of his brash, energetic spirit. Aikka is cautious and perceptive, and without his input, she doesn't feel like they are seeing the whole picture.
"I know. I already made my intentions known as Avatar, that I wanted peace, when I disabled the warships on either side of that last Human-Crog battle. I thought maybe they'd get the hint that they should stop fighting, but-"
"They haven't changed," Eva says. From what little contact Eva has had with the Coalition, she isn't encouraged that they are any better-equipped to hold back the Crogs, the next time they attack, either.
"Seriously. I'm not saying that I want you to take on all of the diplomacy yourself, but you really do have the best connections with Nourasia. I think it's a good place to start. Maybe you and Prince Aikka can do a racing exhibition next time you go, to get people interested in what you have to say. He'd probably be up for it."
"I like the way you think, Jordan," she grins. She wonders for a moment if he can read her mind, because she'd just been considering if she would ever have the chance to race again if she went through with this.
He kisses her on the forehead. "Yeah, but only time will tell if I'm guiding things in the right direction. Hey, I think someone's coming," he says, and then she hears the high-pitched whirring of a magnetic engine, as what looks like a converted dune buggy comes around the bend. Rick is piloting, while her father is clinging to the rumble seat like he's in fear of being flung out and impaled on a sapling.
"Here goes nothing," Eva says, hoping she's ready for what new trials lay ahead.