There were voices in the dining room of the giant penthouse apartment they shared with Beka. Trance yawned and rubbed her eyes in a futile attempt to remove her sleepiness. At 0300, less than four hours after going to bed, it wasn't easy. Harper had told her to go order caffeine and breakfast while he showered so she had time to wake up. A kind thought, but no amount of coffee would provide the alertness she needed to perform daily tasks. But she'd figure it out. Had no choice.
Outside the floor to ceiling windows that lined the halls the lights of the city, Amala, sparkled like a sky full of stars. Amala never slept. Its visitors came from the furthest reaches of the Tri-Galaxies and covered three dozen—or more—species. The hospitable Rindran's had ensured that no matter the guests' sleep-cycles, there was always something to do.
Unless you lived on Intergalactic Standard Time and needed to be up before dawn Amala Time to execute your diplomatic duties. Her own fault. In retrospect, the hours of dancing at the party last night, the two large, fruity drinks with tiny umbrellas she'd consumed, and the subsequent tipsy dip in the local clothing-optional hot spring may have been a series of poor choices. Late night escapades had never bothered her in the past so she let herself forget that she'd never had to recover from them on the power of her own organic body before. Harper's bleary eyes, proof he wasn't able the party the way he used to either, was a small consolation.
Sparky Cola sounded good right about now. Sleep deprivation did little more than alcohol to improve her decision-making ability.
As she drew closer she recognized the lilt of the voice beside Beka's. Charlemagne. It had been suspicious that Beka had turned in early last night, but Trance's inebriated mind didn't question it. Didn't think much about it at all. Didn't consider the extra shoes by the door either, but now she remembered them sitting there beside Beka's. A pair of high-quality leather boots richer than any of them could afford. An interesting but not unexpected development.
She glanced down at her silky pajama pants and contemplated turning around to get dressed. Her countenance was even less impressive in oversized pajamas than a swimsuit top. But that would prompt questions from Harper, and if she knew Beka after all these years, Bolivar was already on his way out the door before Beka expected Harper up. If the Archduke wanted to stay the night in their personal quarters, he'd just have to put up with her unprofessional dress. The amusing image of Charlemagne exiting Beka's tiny quarters on the Maru tugged her lips into a small and amused smile despite her exhaustion.
"Morning Beka," she announced presence before she rounded the corner—the polite thing to do in these situations. After years of sharing a ship, they had a process. Trance didn't judge. There was too little time and too much hatred in the Universe to worry about wonderful moments of joy and passion. That Beka was safe was all she cared about.
She walked into the small dining room and kitchenette and straight to the breakfast bar as if nothing were out of the ordinary and flashed Charlemagne a smile. "Good morning, Archduke."
"Trance, I didn't expect you out here so soon." Beka too was dressed in pajama pants and a camisole. Both hands were wrapped around an oversized steaming mug. She nodded towards a tray on the table. "I already ordered you one of those frozen coffee things you liked so much yesterday. Figured you'd be exhausted."
"Thanks." She grabbed it from the tray. A can of Sparky and a second mug beside a thermos remained. Harper's 'double whammy'. Enough caffeine to keep her awake for a week and send her blood pressure skyrocketing but hardly a jumpstart for him.
"I must be going. See you at the ceremony and the reception tonight?" Though he'd kept his tone level, Trance caught a hint of hope there. He then turned to her, the warm smile he'd given Beka straining. His eye twitched. So she had unnerved him yesterday. Maybe he'd think twice if one of her people decided to get involved in Nietzschean politics. Still, politeness dictated he say something. "Good day, Miss Gemini." His gaze fell on Beka again.
Beka leaned forward. A low-key electrical hum passed between them. "Yeah, see you then."
Trance nodded to Charlemagne and took a drink of her coffee to cover up her smile. Beka didn't need to see how close to laughter she was. The coffee was delicious. Bittersweet and creamy. Hopefully full of blessed caffeine because if this was the start of her day, she was going to need it.
She scanned the rest of the room. Further down the bar were the remains of two breakfasts. They'd been up for at least an hour already. Had they gone to bed at all? Beka didn't look any more exhausted than usual. Was difficult to tell on a Nietzschean face. Might have just turned in early. Together.
Charlemagne left without another word and Beka set about stacking the plates. She didn't say anything at first, but then caught Trance's eye.
"We were just eating some breakfast before the ceremony this morning," she explained, picking up the coffee cup again and pulling it close to her chest, closing herself off. She looked over Trance's shoulder at the hall.
"Harper just hopped in the shower. He won't be out for a little bit. Was it enjoyable?"
Red rose in Beka's cheeks. "Breakfast?"
The laughter threatened again and she had to bite the inside of her lip to keep her expression neutral. Humans really were squeamish about sex. "Yes, breakfast." Her tone assured Beka that she wasn't talking about bacon and eggs. "There are worse people to share… breakfast with."
Beka sipped her coffee, eying Trance over the rim of the mug. Finally, she put it down, relaxing when she didn't find the judgment she'd feared. Perhaps she was right to fear it from Harper, who had no love of Nietzscheans, but Trance didn't hold the same attitudes and prejudices many humans did. Not that Trance didn't understand—had she lived like Harper she might have harbored hatred for Nietzscheans as well, but she had seen too many civilizations rise and fall and too many people's lives destroyed by hate to let those seeds take purchase in her heart.
But now was not the time to dwell on Harper's past or his prejudices. This was about Beka.
"Well, I mean I haven't had breakfast like that with anyone in a long time. It's nice, sometimes, you know?" The metaphor had stretched to its limits, but Trance decided to keep it going.
"You're right." She took another sip of her coffee then gave Beka her most comforting smile. "Sometimes you just need to have breakfast. He seemed interested. I assume he's decided to ally himself with you?"
Beka fidgeted and smoothed her pajama pants. "He offered me his fleets the moment he saw me. It was surprisingly straightforward. He signed the paperwork over dinner last night."
Relationships had been founded on less. "So there will be plenty of opportunities for breakfast in the future." She studied Beka's expression carefully. Beka was drawn to Nietzscheans, and that was good because the painful truth was that as the Matriarch, it was going to be difficult for her to find human partners interested in anything more than a short-term relationship. The fact was, humans still blamed Nietzscheans for the fall of the Commonwealth. And they weren't wrong.
Beka's face didn't give much away. "I don't know if I'm looking to make this a regular thing. There are a million reasons why it's a bad idea and one major reason why it's a horrible idea."
"Elssbett." Trance wrinkled her nose, remembering Charlemagne's beautiful, deadly, and thoroughly awful first wife. It still baffled Trance that anyone could hate flowers.
"Yeah, Elssbett," Beka confirmed, drawing out the first word. Her nose wrinkled too, her lips pulling into a sneer. Charlemagne's wife wasn't much of a consideration last night, and why should she be?
"Nietzscheans are polyamorous and she can hardly say anything against him having breakfast with the Matriarch. It will eventually give his family status. Besides, it doesn't have to be a formal arrangement. Sometimes it can just be—fun. Think of how much it will bother her and how little she can do about it."
Beka laughed now. "You are devious sometimes."
Trance smiled and shrugged. "I try." She took another sip and then put her coffee down, locking her gaze with Beka's. "Be careful and do what makes you happy. Our lives are too short and always in too much danger to do anything else."
"Thanks, Trance."
She shrugged again, giving Beka a warm smile. This was their game. "For what?"
"Please tell me coffee is here? I seriously almost fell asleep standing up in the shower." Harper appeared in the hall wearing a pair of boxer shorts and a skintight tee, rubbing his hair into more disarray with a towel. She gave Beka a small nod, still smiling, and picked up the can of Sparky.
"Beka has us covered. She ordered before we woke. Here." She stopped in front of him and handed him the cola, then attempted to smooth his hair into something resembling order. It was a lost cause.
Harper looked over her shoulder and raised his drink to Beka. "Thanks. What're you guys talking about?" He popped the can and looked on expectantly as if he sensed they'd been discussing something serious.
She kissed him. Always an effective means of distraction. "Just breakfast."
"Did you have any?" He glanced over her shoulder at the breakfast bar. "The ceremony is, like, two hours long and mostly standing and that doesn't include the walk over there."
Trance bit back her laughter as Beka snorted behind her. She took a steadying breath. "No. I can't say that I've had any breakfast this morning. Not really awake yet."
"What? What'd I say?" Harper asked as Beka snickered again. He looked so tired and confused that she was compelled to kiss him again.
She pressed her palms to his chest and gave him a quick peck. "It's nothing. I am going to go take my shower now. Drink up your caffeine, you'll feel better. There is a thermos of black coffee on the bar, too."
He reached up and put his hand on top of hers. "Okay, but make sure you get a granola bar or something after. Actually, I'll just order for you. You shouldn't go without breakfast."
She made it halfway down the hall before the laughter escaped.
The wind was brisk but the sun bright. It had snowed again last night and though the streets were clear and de-iced in this sector, the white of the snow piled up on the buildings and sides of the road was blinding. Ollie pulled her knitted cap further down over her ears and adjusted the heating in her coat to compensate for the cold then pulled a pair of sunglasses from her pocket. She couldn't remember a winter in her entire life where she'd been warm most of the time. Snow was definitely a lot more fun with a proper coat and waterproof boots. No holes in anything she had on save for those that were supposed to be there, either. A dream come true.
Her Comm beeped and she rolled her eyes. She dug it out of her pocket, fumbling a bit in her gloves. Dad, of course.
"Hey, Dad, what's up?" She kept walking past throngs of people. Some, Commonwealth transplants, wore streamlined tech-coats like hers. Shiny, new and fashionable. The fabrics covered the spectrum with hats and gloves decorated with small details, like embroidery or lace. Others, Seefrans, were dressed far more like she was used to back on New Burke. Thick layers of dingy beige and brown cloth with scarves wrapped around their heads.
"You make it there?" His voice was gruff. Children shouted and laughed the in the background. The kids at the Children's home loved him. Whenever he worked they crowded around for a look until the teachers and caretakers shooed them away.
"It's only been 15 minutes and it's a three-click walk." Annoyance crept into her tone, though she'd tried to stop it. "You know, you can use a computer terminal to find out exactly where I am at any moment. My comm has a tracking device in it."
Sometimes she thought her father wanted the gates of the Nietzschean ghetto back. With checkpoints and guards to keep her inside. Then he never had to worry she was out of his reach.
"Keep that attitude up and there will be a few extra chores for you and a few less for the boys when you get home tonight. I'm still not happy with this and it isn't wise to press my buttons."
"I'm not—" she started, raising her voice, and then stopped. She took a deep, calming breath. He was right, of course. It wasn't 'wise'. "Sorry, dad."
Hard as it was to do, she forced her annoyance deep down, though it made her want to hit something. Time to use her brain as her mother implored her to do. Douse that firecracker in her belly. All part of growing up. It wasn't easy. Especially not here when all she wanted to do was chase the sun. See what was beyond the horizon and get back up into the stars where entire worlds looked like marbles and the Universe stretched on forever. Never an end to what she could learn. And all her dad wanted to do was keep her safe at home.
She took a deep breath and spoke in a calmer tone. "I told you, it's for school. Dylan and Trance say this Orlund dude is cool. Dylan had to jump through hoops to set it up for me. It'll set me apart from the others applying for the All System's University."
Maybe best not to bring that one up since she'd have to dorm on Xinti, but it was too late now. The elephant in the room. There wasn't a school on Tarn Vedra for her yet. She and a handful of other 'promising young minds' received self-paced lessons and assessments from the All System's University branch on Tarazed to prepare them for official university entry, but it was understood that they'd each need to take on additional studies and complete an intensive research project in their hopeful field of study. All of the students on Tarn Vedra were at a disadvantage; none of them had a formal education.
Didn't matter. She was used to hard work and uphill climbs.
"I know, it just worries me to have you alone in those tunnels—"
"With High Guard officers."
"People around here tell stories about them."
She sidestepped a flower peddler setting up shop on the street in the shadows of the steel bones of a building that hadn't been there last week. The cart seemed on fire with red, yellow, and orange flowers that must have been grown in a greenhouse somewhere. The peddler was oblivious to the buzz of activity behind him where construction workers in black jumpsuits and hard hats tuned up their machines and drones for the day's work. If she had more time she'd sit and watch. Try to figure out what role each machine played and how they all worked together to put up high rises in a matter of weeks.
A pair of roughly dressed teenage boys pulled up to the fence and started jeering at the workers. She didn't understand more than a handful of their words. Picking up the dialect of the local children was slow going, but she got the gist. They didn't want the Commonwealth here. Too bad, this planet belonged to the Commonwealth first.
Her eyes would get stuck if she rolled them any harder. "People around here say a lot of things." She glared at the boys when they caught her eye as she passed by. One of them made a rude gesture and she returned it with one of her own, glad her dad couldn't see through the Comm. Assholes. "They're technophobes who don't like change."
And the city changed every day as more outsiders moved in and set up shop and brought order to the chaos. It made the Seefrans uncomfortable. But some, like the kids she went to school with, embraced the change. They were a silent minority. Seemed that hatred spoke louder than love and she'd had just about enough of it to last a lifetime. If she got out there in the stars, she could be a part of the Commonwealth. She could bring law, justice, and equality to the Universe. Things she'd never hoped to ever experience before Harper and Beka stole her away from the Dragons.
This was so important.
"Don't worry, I'll be fine. I won't be kidnapped by pale tunnel dwellers or get turned into a statue. If I do, you can ground me for the rest of my life."
"Every time you tell me not to worry, I worry more. Check in with me, okay?" His tone had softened. Stone was what he'd had to be on New Burke. Stone was what they'd needed him to be to keep what was left of their family together. Her mother remembered a time when Garrin Lange was full of ideals. When he played his violin while gazing at the stars and dreaming of a better future. A man who forgave easily and loved strongly. It had seemed to her, she'd told Ollie, that he was out of place in such a hard place.
The locals had a legend about the tunnels beneath Seefra city. Those who wandered too deeply into them were turned into statues. It didn't scare her. The New Burke Ghetto was like a molten forge. It melted down her father and cooled him into obsidian. Hard and full of sharp edges. No magic at all to it, only a harsh reality that most people here would never understand.
But stone was too rigid for this ever-morphing world. Her dad softened more each day. He allowed the world around him to shape him, guided by the crew that had adopted them into their strange little family. It was a start. She needed to learn, too. How was it she understood it on an intellectual level, yet had so much trouble controlling her temper?
She smiled as if her father could see. "I will. I love you. We'll walk home together tonight, 'kay?"
"Yeah. Love you too, and be careful."
"Always." She pocketed her comm and continued past more businesses and storefronts. A farmer's market had sprung up in an empty lot and she made note to stop by on her way back to the children's home. She'd find the strangest fruit or vegetable and bring it home. Play the food dare game with the boys. She always won—she'd try any food at least once. No sense in being picky.
The entrance to the tunnels was in the middle of what was shaping up to be a warehouse district with large squat buildings and industrial vehicles and machinery. The wind picked up as a cargo shuttle landed beside a building nearby. She watched and wished she knew more about makes and models. Always so much to learn. Especially out here. The pilot jumped out and waved at her. Her new clothes marked her as one of their own. Not a Seefran.
As much as she disliked the Seefrans, she had to admit the prejudice went both ways. The Seefrans needed to realize that the Commonwealth was here to make life better for everyone. With no fleet, no government, and no law, without the Commonwealth's protection Seefra would have fallen to someone like the Dragons quickly, their population decimated and survivors chained and penned up like animals to do Nietzschean bidding.
The Commonwealth needed to prove to these people that they were here to protect them because all the Seefrans saw were the refugee camps they were crowded into—neighborhoods like the one Ollie and her family lived in were still going up—and rich people in nice clothing walking through ever-changing streets. A tale told throughout history. The Haves vs the Have-Nots. Having been one of the Have-Nots herself, she understood their simmering anger. Something needed to give sooner rather than later.
A security checkpoint was set up at the tunnel entrance with two young High Guard officers in their black uniforms chatting and smiling. She could see bone blades folded against one of the men's arms and despite herself, her heart sped up and her limbs became liquid. A Nietzschean. She swallowed down the knot in her throat. She had the credentials to be here. And even if she didn't, the Commonwealth didn't shoot to kill for having the wrong paperwork. But her hands still shook as she dug out her passport.
A human man with high cheekbones and dimples waved to her. He was in his early twenties. Couldn't have been out of the academy very long. She could see now that the Nietzschean man was also young, and was too busy reading to pay her much notice.
"Hi, how can I help you?" the human asked.
"I—" she started and fumbled, her mind having trouble breaking through her irrational fears. Like with her father, she understood her feelings were acting out of control but was at a loss.
The Nietzschean looked up from his flexi and gave her a smile laced with boredom. "She's the kid here to meet Orlund for her school project, I think. Olivia Lange?"
The human man looked her over. "You Olivia?"
"Ollie," she muttered and passed him her passport. He took it into a small temporary structure and came back out a moment later, handing it back to her.
"Here you go, Ollie." He emphasized her name as he handed it back to her, those dimples decorating his cheeks again. "Head on in, and good luck. Orlund should be waiting for you once you get down the steps into the tunnels proper. Watch your step, it's a bit of hike down and, um, Orlund may seem… weird. But he's cool, I promise."
Harper had said something similar. Maybe dad was right.
The first thing she noticed inside was the overwhelming amount of dust in the air. It tickled her nose and filled her mouth with chalk. As her eyes adjusted, she could see motes of it dancing in the weak cones of light emanating from sconces placed evenly along the walls. For all the dust, though, it was clean and dry. No cobwebs and no mold like what had grown on the walls of their basement home on New Burke, no matter what they did to try and rid themselves of it.
Her footsteps echoed down the stairs. The landing opened to a wide, dimly lit cavern. Along the walls, low to the ground, ran what she assumed was a ventilation system. Purple lights hung from the roof of the cavern and built into the walls were supports with ornate patterns carved on them. Original Vedran technology. More lights had been added. By the Commonwealth, she guessed, because they didn't match the aesthetic. While the walls were rough-hewn from the stone, the ground was smooth. Down here she could hear water trickling somewhere and the air carried the scent of it. Still no mold. Thank God.
"You must be Olivia, sent here by my Princess and my Captain." From around a bend came a man—dark skinned with dark eyes and close-cropped brown hair. A goatee framed his soft, yet handsome, face. Though he was also in his early twenties, like the boys outside, he spoke with an air of ancient formality, like she imagined princes spoke in old human fairy tales.
Even though Harper and the boys outside had warned her, she stopped and took an involuntary step back. This man did not seem like he had it all together. Her fingers hovered over the holster where she carried a stun-gun to protect herself. They wouldn't have let her in here with a gauss gun, but her father insisted she carry a weapon with her when alone.
"Um, hi. Do you mean Trance and Dylan? They told me you could show me the old Vedran communications consoles. I want to study them and try to reproduce one for school."
He wore a high guard uniform, the rank of ensign pinned to his lapel. A force lance hung from a holster on his leg. He stepped forward and she did too, putting her trust in the Captain who'd carried her family here and the woman who'd brought her brother back from the brink of death. If they'd vouched for him, she'd give this a go.
"Yes. How are they?" His smile was sincere and eager. She relaxed her fingers.
"They were good when they stopped by last week, and this morning Harper sent me a picture of the resort they are staying at in the Rindra system. They looked happy." She chose not to mention what the rest of the Andromeda crew was doing because it horrified her to think of a sun eating its entire planetary system for no reason. She'd rather not think about it. "So, can you help me?"
"I can!" He held out his arm to her, "If you'll come with me, I will show you where the communications equipment is kept. I am surprised not many of the Commonwealth scientists have shown interest in them. The Vedrans were rumored to be able to communicate across the galaxies with no delay at all, but it is weapons and transportation everyone is interested in…"
Ollie linked arms with him and as she listened she decided that eccentric or not, she kind of liked him. Kind of thought they could be friends.
Harper had never been one for pomp and circumstance. Especially of the religious variety, and especially when forced to participate before dawn. Not that he hated mornings. Not at all. He and Morning just had a rocky relationship where insomnia often forced them to work together when he'd rather cozy up to his bed. They'd been on the path to repairing their relationship with the aid of Trance's miracle medications—and her presence beside him at night—but today he wanted nothing to do with Morning.
Even so, he had to admit this walk was beautiful. Rain clouds had yet to drift in, leaving the sky a clear, deep purple dotted with twinkling stars. Two gibbous moons lit their way toward the volcanic plateau where the ceremony would be. One almost full, and one only slightly larger than half.
Tall trees surrounded their path, casting shadows on the ground and against the sky. It smelled of perfume and moss. Nightbirds called through the foliage. The growth here had been tamed and managed to keep the sky visible and the path clear but even after more than a decade off of Earth, he still found it hard to believe anything this natural and wild existed outside of holovids and Trance's well-curated gardens.
Though there were hundreds on the path before them, and more behind, all were silent. Reverent. The long skirts the local women favored and the wide pants of the men rustled with the leaves of the trees. This was called 'The Path of the Ancestors' and he could understand why. If he strained his ears, it almost sounded like the benevolent dead were whispering from the past.
He walked between Beka and Trance, though he kept his hands by his side. This was a diplomatic mission. He knew the drill. It was a pity, though, because Trance needed someone to reach out. Her expression was grave. Serious. Even before the silent procession, she hadn't said much, putting on a mask and closing herself off the moment the penthouse doors had closed behind them.
Must be hard for her. He'd thought about it since their interaction with the high priestess yesterday. Tried to puzzle out the meaning behind the words she'd said and, more importantly, those she hadn't. But he didn't want to pry. The stoic silence was her heart's shield, and it'd be under a constant barrage this morning. He wouldn't be responsible for breaking it down. Not here. Not now. She had a job to do as the face of the Commonwealth. An important one that she took seriously.
Their procession continued to the base of the plateau. Here is where the cameras that would record the proceedings for all of the Commonwealth—including Dylan and the rest of the crew—met them. Harper tried to ignore their flashing lights and the cameramen operating them. The path up was lined with torches and he could see from here that they circled the top as well. Tiny lights at the base of each told him they were mechanical. On a control, likely. Priests and priestesses with fire gleaming off their golden sun shaped masks stood between the torches murmuring blessings he couldn't understand.
"The night is nearly done," Trance whispered, breaking her silence for the first time in what must have been forty-five minutes.
This whole thing was surreal and disorienting. The darkness discomforting. It had never been his friend. Humans, he'd read once, had a primal fear of the dark. But those fears were real for Earthers. Darkness was when death came to the door. On Earth, real monsters had lurked in the shadows and their ghosts still lurked there.
But the priests were right. They wouldn't be in darkness much longer. Already the sky grew lighter. He picked up the roar of the waves now and a few lone gulls cried their good mornings over the whispers of the devout.
The High Priestess met their party at the top. Trance stiffened, snapping on guard, and Harper decided to hell with Dylan's diplomacy. He grabbed Trance's hand and squeezed. She clung to him, her grip tight. A quick glance at Beka told him she didn't object. She, too, had been strangely thoughtful this morning and Trance knew why, but it was never a good idea to nose into women's business. It never went well for him.
Hand in hand they followed the Priestess to the front, passing giant benches made from tree trunks hewn in half and sanded down, their surfaces polished by thousands of bottoms over the years. Plush grass covered the ground. It had to be cool and soft, but he'd been denied the feel of it by the necessity of wearing closed-toed shoes with his slacks and button-up top. Rommie had at least taken pity on him and allowed him to wear short sleeves. Who said pouting didn't work? He was glad, too. Once the sun rose, so too would the temperature.
He gave Trance's strappy dress flats a mournful glance, then forced his tired mind to focus instead of wandering everywhere but where it was supposed to. Past Harper was an asshole for getting drunk last night, but that dip in the hot springs sans clothes had been pretty nice. He hadn't relaxed like that in quite a while… Focus.
The High Priestess led them o a bench at the front. Charlemagne Bolivar, despite not originally being on the guest list, had secured himself and his retinue a spot of honor beside the other Commonwealth representatives. There'd be more tonight at the reception. A room full of diplomats from the member worlds, but here, they were the guests of honor. The official delegation and the face of the Commonwealth. For ceremonies like these, the Andromeda wasn't just the ship of the line, but the match that had re-lit the flame of civilization.
Hard to imagine that he'd signed on for a few hots and a cot—and maybe a little cash to line his pockets—and now he was on his way to becoming a household name. Seamus Harper, the representative of an entire civilization. No one back home would have believed it. A hero according to those who'd pinned decorations on his collar. He wore them today, as did Beka and Trance.
As they slid into their seats, Beka cast a warm smile towards Charlemagne and the Archduke returned it. Harper's brows shot up. That was not a look normally given to Nietzscheans. Especially not lately. Dinner negotiations must have gone better than expected. He'd forgotten to ask this morning.
They remained standing as the High Priestess took her position on a stage towards the edge of the plateau. The sky had become a shade of periwinkle with a thin line of pink visible on the horizon. The priests behind them began to sing, voices low at first, then rising in volume as parishioners joined in. He couldn't understand the Rindrin, and Trance didn't translate. Her face was a mask of sobriety and reverence. Everything it should be. He wished sometimes he could borrow the superpower that let her meld seamlessly into any situation. Instead, he stood like a wide-eyed tourist who'd stumbled into the wrong room and couldn't leave. The flames cast shadows on her face. He kept hold of her hand.
The priests moved up the aisle in two columns, separating when they reached the platform. They took their places around the High Priestess. The torches around the platform extinguished and he craned his neck to see that those along the path had as well. The sky had lightened enough that everyone was visible in shadows around him. The High Priestess began some sort of invocation, her voice carrying across the platform without the aid of any microphones Harper could see. As her voice died out, torches on the stage flared to life, much brighter than before. Impressive showmanship.
"Our scriptures tell of periods of darkness. Long nights when the light of civilization burns low," she said in Common and he snapped to attention as if her voice were a command. Like Dylan's back home, it rang out solid and confident. Hers was a voice you listened to whether you wanted to or not. Thank God his mother hadn't possessed it. "These times come in cycles. Like the ebb and flow of the tide below us. Like the rising and setting of the sun." Her voice even overpowered the crashing of the surf against the base of the plateau and he wondered if she had a microphone hidden on her person somewhere.
She continued. "We have been in the depths of this long night for so long, that we have forgotten what daylight brings us. Once, a galaxy of stars was ours to travel. There was peace. Prosperity. Our people stretched across the known Galaxies and we shared bread and knowledge with hundreds of worlds in the System's Commonwealth, protected by their fleets. When it fell, we fled back to this world, our home, and have hidden here from the chaos beyond ever since.
"Our mother Sun protected us, even without a great fleet to call our own, but beyond her reach, was only a vast and dangerous darkness."
Trance didn't move. Didn't change her expression. He wondered how much energy it took to remain so still. How strict she was with herself to keep her emotions locked behind so strong a barrier. How much was it going to cost her later? Because he was on to her. The way she ignored her pain, physical or emotional until it was safe to feel it, and how it was always so much worse when she allowed it take over.
"But, as foretold, the Long Night is coming to an end. For us, and for the greater Universe. There is a change in the air."
And there was. As if on cue, a breeze picked up, cooling the moisture beading on his skin from the humidity. The periwinkle sky had faded to a lighter blue and orange joined pink along the horizon. Like a painting. And in the forest behind them, the birds of paradise were waking. Their calls rang through the trees.
The High Priestess motioned to the sky. "The dawn will come. It always comes. Bringing with it light and life. Warmth, and prosperity. Let us raise our voices and rejoice."
Once again, the singing began with the priests and grew louder as the song moved through the crowd. Flutes and drums joined in. He looked around and noticed for the first time that the bench across the aisle from them held a number of musicians using polished wooden instruments. These words, too, were in Rindrin, but he didn't need to understand. The melody filled him and because of it, he soared. Like he was back on his board scaling the biggest waves, or looking down on Earth from the stars for the first time. The swelling highs and sentimental lows enveloped him in a sense of belonging to something larger than himself. Larger than this world. A sunrise contained in a song.
It was wondrous and uncomfortable how he didn't believe in anything much beyond himself as far as faith was concerned yet the song made him feel like he could. And wasn't it his not-so-secret desire to escape from the shadows once and for all and have his day in the light? Unafraid. Unburdened. To put the Dragons and the Magog behind him and help build something better for the children he secretly hoped he'd raise one day. Was it really so different, that hope he had for himself and the Rindrin's hope for the Universe?
When the song ended he reeled from the introspection it had forced on him. She spoke again, a prayer this time with a call and repeat aspect. The voices around him were resolute. Fervent in their faith. Unable to focus he looked to his companions. Beka watched with her lips pressed tightly together so wrinkles formed around her mouth. Charlemagne feigned nonchalance, but his eyes were sharp and focused in opposition to the lazy smile that played on his lips.
Beside him, Trance remained a statue, but one with unshed tears now shining in her eyes. They'd never let go of each other's hands and he squeezed hers to remind her of their connection. She squared her shoulders, even as she continued to watch. The most challenging part of the ceremony was yet to come, but she was strong. She could do this. And he'd be right here because he'd be damned if she had to go through any of this alone ever again.
All around them, as the ceremony continued, dawn broke and the world woke. After a fable of some sort, like those Rev had been fond of telling, and a sermon spoken in both Rindrin and Common that he couldn't follow, the High Priestess stepped forward to the edge of the platform and Harper forced himself to focus again.
"This day and the alliance we are here to celebrate has been blessed by our mother Sun. She has spoken to me, and now I speak for her. Who here represents the Commonwealth."
A buzz of anticipation moved through the crowd. This was the purpose of all this and he stood taller. He could almost feel the cameras panning to their group. Probably moving on to their surprise VIPs, the Sabra-Jaguar pride, and then back again. Trance had reminded him earlier—because for some reason she thought it was a good idea to make him more nervous—that this was the true moment that Rindra joined their Commonwealth. The signing ceremony this afternoon was a formality. The religion controlled Rindra's culture, not the government.
They'd chosen Trance to represent them. For her poise. For her familiarity with customs like these. Because as a non-human, the Rindrins could relate to her. On Andromeda, it had seemed like a perfect plan. No one would ever give him the responsibility. Beka was already overwrought and out of her comfort zone and Trance had been happy to volunteer. Everything all wrapped up in a neat little package and tied with a bow.
Now it didn't seem quite so clean.
Her chest rose and fell slowly. She gripped his hand tighter as she took another breath. One day he was going to ask her how she kept her expression so tight in moments like these, with only small tells to give her away to those who knew her best. The answer was probably 'a few million years of practice'.
"I do." Her voice rang out, strong and confident, though her lips twitched and she sought his eyes in the moment before she let go of his hand and stepped forward.
The High Priestess beckoned her forward. Trance moved with grace, her back straight and chin held high. He glanced at the cameramen and watched them turn their cameras to follow her. No doubt, she made a commanding presence on screen. Locked away was the silly girl he'd met on the Maru all those years ago, who still came out to play when it was just the original crew hanging out together over board games or cards. Locked away was the woman who'd danced in the rain with him yesterday. Who'd patched up his wounds on the beach. Who'd giggled as he removed her bikini top at the clothing optional hot spring. Who'd woken up this morning rubbing her tired eyes and pouting at the clock as if it were out to get her.
Before him was someone entirely different. Someone he'd only glimpsed at before and hadn't seen at all since she lost her memories in Seefra.
ance climbed the ramp to join the High Priestess on the stage, the priestess backed up to her previous position and Trance stepped up beside her. They turned so they could be seen in profile. The torches on the stage went out, leaving them cast in shadows.
"It is customary for us to seal an alliance with a gift. It isn't a material thing, because material things are fleeting in the eternal time of the Universe," the High Priestess said.
A child dressed like a priestess with sparkles rubbed into her skin approached carrying a candle. Its flame now the only light save for the sunrise. The breeze picked up again and the flame flickered. The child guarded it with her hand. She smiled brightly at the priestess, and then turned to Trance, eyes filled with wonder. She knelt before her and passed the candle to her.
"Trance Gemini of the Andromeda Ascendant, representative of the Commonwealth. The long night has not ended, but the dawn is near. This alliance is a harbinger of that dawn. We offer you the gift of light, that we all might be guided through the darkness until we can welcome the dawn with our arms wide open."
Trance reached out and took the candle, cradling it in her hands as if she'd been given precious gemstones or the Vedran Empress' crown. She closed her eyes, tilting her neck forward as if in prayer. Then she straightened and allowed a gentle smile. "On the behalf of the New Systems Commonwealth, I accept your gift of light. There is never a night so dark that the dawn will not come."
A few simple lines. That was all she had to speak, and watching her now he knew it couldn't have been anyone else up there. The priests sang again. The musicians joined in, but this time the crowd remained silent. Then, behind him, he heard a rustling, and slowly the hundreds on the plateau knelt. One by one at first, then in a wave. He looked to Beka, uncertain, she nodded and knelt herself. To Harper's surprise as he took to his knees on the soft grass, so did Charlemagne. The Archduke's eyes were not on the priestess, but Trance. The glow grew brighter and then a sliver of sunlight broke over the plateau and as the song continued the sun rose. The High Priestess and Trance, standing across from one another with a candle between them, becoming shadows in its brilliance.
And as the sun became their backdrop and the song reached its crescendo the High Priestess did something unexpected. She bowed before Trance, and the rest of the priests and priestesses followed her lead. He heard it in the murmurs around him. In the sharp intakes of breath. This was not a normal part of the ceremony. Trance faltered. Her shoulders dropped, and her mouth fell open. In a beat she recovered, standing straight again as she thought she was expected.
Clothed in fire, with everyone kneeling or bowing around her, she was suddenly the ruler she was meant to be.
When the song faded, they knelt and bowed in silence for a few breaths longer, listening to the music of the dawn. The birds and the surf, and the sounds of the distant city as its tempo picked up now the light had come. Then everyone rose.
"Our mother Sun has spoken and our alliance with you will bring light to our Universe."
It took Harper a second, with the vision of his golden goddess still in his eyes, to realize she meant the Commonwealth and not Trance herself.