Episode 36: Every Battle
Five days had passed since Starsha told Elisa about The Living and the ominous crystals growing beneath the palace. Sasha sensed her tension and hadn't stopped crying for more than a few hours at once. Starsha picked up the little girl and walked her from one end of the apartment living area to the other, hoping the motion would lull her to sleep.
Not for the first time did she wish Adrianna's new body had matured enough for the Jeshurunian to speak. To help her care for Sasha, yes, but also to answer the questions still burning in her mind about the day she'd found Adrianna's dead husk just after discovering the imprisoned Mazone.
When she wasn't caring for Sasha, Starsha was overseeing the settlement of refugees inside the palace and surrounding Mothertown. With more ships inbound and several arriving every day, there was little time to spend on investigation, so she'd entrusted that to Elisa.
Sasha's crying faded to a stuttered whimper, but Starsha didn't dare set the girl down before she fell asleep.
Her comm buzzed. A message from Elisa.
I found something. Come to the library.
Starsha tapped a reply with one hand, careful not to jostle Sasha as the baby's eyelids fluttered and drooped. I'll be there soon. She kept the little girl with her as she hurried into the hall and caught the nearest lift to the ground level. She quietly slipped through the library's intricately decorated door.
Elisa was in a record room at the back of the library, poring over an ancient tome. Each page turn stirred a cloud of dust, which Elisa waved away before skimming the contents.
Irii sat in an adult-sized plush reading chair with Delina. She read the toddler a children's story. Colorful holograms moved as Irii narrated, and Delina giggled with delight, especially when a herd of horses galloped into view. Delina held up her little stuffed horse and moved the toy in rhythm with the images.
Starsha waited for the dust to clear before standing beside Elisa. "What have you found?" She kept her voice quiet so Irii and Delina wouldn't overhear.
Concern wrinkled Elisa's brow, and the sparks of gladness Starsha was used to seeing in Elisa's eyes had vanished, replaced with unease. "Have you seen this?" Elisa nodded to the ancient book. She turned back several pages. "Start here." Her finger trailed to the bottom of a chipped page marked with ink in one corner.
Starsha read two paragraphs before stopping. "How did you find this?" She avoided reading any farther. It was a detailed list of people who'd died of an unnamed plant-borne illness. The description of their deaths was particularly vivid.
"King Arbah referenced it in his handwritten notes." Elisa went to a library research station and generated a list of volumes attributed to King Arbah the Mad. She selected one entry and scrolled through digitized pages until she was near the end. On page two hundred and seventy-eight, scrawled in the margin, were three cramped sentences in Arbah's handwriting. It was barely legible and suffered from the same extreme lean as the last pages of his final journal.
"You can read this?" Starsha squinted at the letters, then tipped her head to one side, but no perspective offered clarity.
"Not immediately, but I've deciphered it piece by piece over the past several days—between watching the girls and helping get everyone settled. It's not written in Iscandarian. It's in Draconic. See the sharp corners and smooth curves?" She pointed to each letter form as she spoke. "I knew I recognized it, but I couldn't place the language for almost three days."
"Draconic?" Starsha shifted her hold on Sasha. Miraculously, the little girl was finally asleep. "You can't mean the language of… dragons? I know they're native to Gamilon, but I've never heard of them having a written language or leaving records."
Elisa shook her head. "This isn't in the terrestrial tongue."
"What other kind of dragon is there?"
Arbah's writing trailed through the page margin, but instead of crazed and jagged, suddenly the script seemed elegant, strong, purposeful.
"Celestial." Awe filled Elisa's eyes. "The Nachashim ha Rakiah."
"They're… space-dwellers?" Starsha said. "I've never heard of such a thing."
"It isn't common knowledge," Elisa said. "Had my parents not ensured I received an in-depth education of literature and art alongside the traditional disciplines, I wouldn't know of them either. The celestial dragons are buried in Gamilon's myths and legends. Ancient tales abound with creatures from the depths of space. And some of them speak of dragons among the stars—serpents of the void. No one in recorded memory has seen one of the Nachashim, much less spoken with them. How your King Arbah learned their language, I can't guess."
"We can answer that question later." Starsha opened Arbah's last journal, the one that referenced The Living. "For now, can you decipher this?"
Elisa studied the lines of vertical text. "Yes. Hopefully, it'll say something far different from this." She shut the ancient book she'd been skimming. "Records of gruesome deaths, plagues, disasters." Elisa slipped the book into its protective shield and returned it to its shelf. "I understand the need to chronicle such things, but there's no hint in the source note as to why Arbah referenced it."
"Hopefully this will tell us." Starsha nodded to the journal entry.
Elisa opened her translation notes, and the holographic document hovered beside the research station's projection of Arbah's journal. Thick paragraphs underscored a list of symbols and their Gamilon and Iscandari counterparts. There were so many elements. Draconic possessed multiple symbols for the same letter or letter combination, but each instance was slightly different—an extra ridge here, a steeper curve there, a harsher angle, or a lengthier line.
Starsha silently rocked sleeping Sasha while Elisa translated.
The other woman whispered as she worked, wading through words, uttering sounds so foreign, Starsha would never have identified them as speech. Elisa worked as quickly as her skills allowed. It had taken her days to decipher a few sentences last time. How long would a full page take?
Starsha was about to find a place to sit and relieve her aching arms when Elisa said, "I have it."
By now, Irii and Delina were asleep in their chair. Irii's long, green hair, loose today, draped across Delina's shoulder as the two little girls slept.
The look of concentration on Elisa's face sharpened as she focused on Arbah's last message. When she spoke, every syllable was low, rumbling, and strong, holding a sense of something fathomless and full—almost as if these words could fling them out among the stars simply by speaking them. To hear it was both breathtaking and terrifying.
The moment Elisa finished speaking, the palace floor rumbled.
With one hand, Starsha grabbed hold of the research station to keep balance even as she curled Sasha into a protective embrace with the other.
Elisa darted to Irii and Delina, falling to her knees in front of their chair and wrapping her arms around them both to keep the girls from tumbling across the hard floor.
Irii and Delina woke with startled screams as the whole palace shuddered.
Sasha added her fearful cries to the tumult, and Starsha's racing heart did nothing to help her efforts to comfort the little girl.
A line of tall windows stretched the length of the record room's far wall, which was visible from the research station Starsha clung to. Outside, animals fled to safety as the sea raged, biting the shore with giant, foaming teeth. Trees swayed and bent. Some snapped, but many withstood the quake.
As nausea threatened, Starsha searched for a fixed point—something that didn't spin or judder. She found an island not far off the coast and made it her anchor. She kept her gaze fastened to it until the horrifying moment when the little island… sank. In its place rose a giant crystal, clear as glass and shining brightly in the late morning sun.
The shaking stopped.
Once Irii and Delina were calm enough to realize they were all right, both girls wriggled past Elisa's protective arms, jumped out of their chair, and ran to the window. Delina pressed her face to the pane, and Irii pointed to the glimmering crystal now jutting up from the sea. "Look! It's a diamond island!"
Delina stared in wide-eyed wonder, the fear of a moment ago completely forgotten.
Starsha let go of the research terminal and tried to soothe Sasha with whispered words and soft kisses on her tear-stained little cheeks. "It's okay, little one," she breathed, even as her heart still pounded. "You're all right. It's over now." Careful to support the baby's head, she held Sasha up so she could see more of what was around her—what little her vision could register at less than a month old.
Sasha's expression changed from one of fear to confusion as her eyes darted back and forth, taking in the bits of color throughout the room and finally settling on Starsha's face. Her screams quieted to periodic squalls and tearful hiccups.
Elisa hadn't joined Delina and Irii at the window. She still kneeled in front of the chair, staring toward the crystal island, frozen in place, face pale.
Starsha shifted her hold on Sasha and laid a hand on Elisa's shoulder, jolting the woman out of her stupor.
"I didn't know that would happen." Sweat beaded Elisa's forehead as she whispered it. "I'd heard uttering the language of dragons had consequences, but I—"
"It's all right," Starsha said. "The quake wasn't severe. The palace is still standing, and I haven't received any injury notices." To emphasize the reassurance, she tapped her comm, now hiding in a pocket. "Besides, we don't know there's any correlation between what you said and what happened outside."
Elisa hesitated before nodding, clearly not convinced her words and the quake were unrelated.
"What exactly did you say?" Starsha whispered.
Elisa stood and re-opened Arbah's journal on the research terminal. She let her translation notes hover beside it again and read the same passage as before, this time in Iscandarian.
"From the depths shall they arise,
reaching high into the skies.
None can keep The Living chained;
though they try, they strive in vain.
Only One can stay their hand—
the Source of Life—the One who stands
beside the ever-flowing streams
in Shaddai's Land, where holy radiance beams.
But there is one—yes—one else.
A wise one, his presence few have felt.
He who bathes in ancient light,
who dwells within the halls of night:
He can stop The Living's plague
upon this world, in this doomed age.
His name is old, written in stone
so long ago, it's lost, gone, unknown.
I paid a heavy price to find it,
and though my mind departs bit by bit,
I have found this name, unseen.
It is Astragon. King of Dreams."
As Elisa spoke the words, both horror and wonder flickered across her face, as if saying the words in a language she was more familiar with made them somehow truer than before.
Outside, the new island sparkled in the growing light.
"They're coming for us," Elisa's whisper was laced with fear. "The Living know what we've discovered. Somehow, they've found out."
Starsha wanted to offer another explanation. Anything besides what Elisa had just said. But she couldn't. It was her worst fear come to life. Everyone on Iscandar was in mortal danger. Again. And the only means of stopping whatever doom awaited them was to find this Astragon—whoever he was. That was assuming Arbah had still possessed enough sanity to be speaking truthfully when he penned this. If these verses were some invention of his wearied mind, they would never find this King of Dreams, even if they searched the whole universe. How was she going to find one person—who might or might not exist—among countless stars when she couldn't even leave the planet?*
As Starsha held Sasha close, she breathed a quiet prayer. "Yahweh… help."
In the medbay, Derek sat beside Mark's bed. In the next room, Nova was still recovering from her broken leg, but she was a week closer to getting back on her feet.
He'd tried to visit Nova many times these past five days, but she was always asleep or in the middle of a physical therapy session with Penny.
The thick silence hanging between him and Mark made Derek wish he were anywhere else. When Mark had fallen victim to shock after Trelaina's sudden death, Derek had worried for him. They'd been through so much together—the Academy, the Mars observatory, Iscandar, and now this comet. They'd come too far to walk away from their friendship now.
As the hour wore on, Mark asked the occasional question about the ship and crew's status, but he always stopped short of prolonged conversation.
Most symptoms of shock were gone, but Dr. Sane wanted to make sure Mark wouldn't relapse. Until Sane was sure there wouldn't be another incident, he'd ordered Mark to stay in the medbay.
"You want this?" Mark held out his second Nutrigel. It was green today, probably that fake lime flavor with a sour aftertaste.
"No, you should eat it," Derek said.
Mark let the sealed container sink into his lap, eyes fixed on the thin film sealing in the green gel. He made no move to open it.
The hiss of recycled air and the faint voices of medical personnel outside filled the void between them for the hundredth time in the past two hours.
Mark shifted, sending the sealed gel onto its side. His eyes tracked upward, fixing on the ceiling. "I should be up there. On the bridge."
"Everything's fine, Venture. Alori and Vasquez are splitting your shifts. There's nothing to worry about."
Mark's lips pressed into a hard line. "Nothing to—" The sharp clack of teeth made Derek's jaw ache as Mark bit back the rest of that sentence. "Trelaina died so we could escape that comet. How can I not worry we're going to waste what she did for us by not making it home in time to warn Earth? How can I not worry we'll run into a rogue enemy fleet? Or maybe the Gamilons will find us first. How do I not worry about that, Wildstar?" Mark grabbed the uneaten Nutrigel and slammed it onto the bedside table. Chunks of green splattered inside the cup. If it had been open, the contents would have flown everywhere.
Derek tried to turn the conversation. "I know you thought a lot of Trelaina, but—"
"But what? She's dead, so I should stop thinking about her? Well, I can't. Every time I go to sleep, she's there. She's trying to tell me something, but I can't hear her message, just like I couldn't hear the first one."
Mark held his face in his hands until silence filled the room again. "Do you understand what kind of torture it was to watch her face that worldship alone?" A haunted look passed over Mark. "There was nothing I could do—nothing Argo could do to help her. If we'd gone back, we'd all be dead."
His hands dropped into his lap, resting between blanket-covered legs. He stared at the white sheets. "Maybe that would've been better."
Derek smacked an open hand on the bed.
The loud pop commanded Mark's attention.
"Don't say that. Don't ever say that. We didn't get to spend much time with Trelaina before she…" Derek didn't want to say it, for fear mentioning the woman's death again would send Mark back to spiraling. He skipped the rest of the sentence. "She wouldn't have wanted any of us to feel guilty about what happened. There was no other choice. Trelaina knew that. She did everything she could for us—for Earth. She saved us so we could save them."
The pain in Mark's face only grew.
"I didn't know she meant that much to you." Derek said it quietly. "I'm sorry."
Mark shook his head. "It's not—I—I've never… No one's ever done that for me—stood in my place, knowing they were going to die. She traded her life for mine." Unshed tears glassed his eyes. "How do I… live with that?"
"It's a heavy thing, isn't it?" Derek said soberly. "Being the reason someone died." He understood that weight, the sense of unworthiness, of awe. But Mark was carrying guilt too, and as much as Derek wished he could take that away, there was nothing he could do now except listen.
Mark leaned into the pillow propping him up. "I want to honor what she did."
"Then you'd better finish recovering and get back to your post. Argo needs her best helmsman."
Silence punctuated Derek's words. But it wasn't the same icy quiet as before. A bit of the camaraderie they'd once had warmed the room.
"Wildstar?" Mark said. "I'm sorry for avoiding you for so long."
The apology caught Derek off-guard. "You don't have to—"
Mark held up a hand to interrupt. "Yes, I do. It's been hard watching you become someone else these past few months. The loud hot-head I used to know is taking time to listen before hauling off and punching people."
Derek recalled the incident with Deun in the brig. "Not always…"
"But more often than before. And you've done something you once vowed never to do. Cut your hair. You've finally mustered the courage to talk with Nova, too. I've seen you together and heard the rumors." Mark forced a small smile. Even though the expression was false, sparks of true gladness lit his eyes. "You could stare down a Gamilon who wants to kill you, but talking to a girl like Nova always made you nervous. I'm happy for you."
Derek missed this, spending time talking with Mark. Those months at the Mars Observatory hadn't been just work. They'd also invented countless inadvisable uses for equipment, raced each other across Mars' unforgiving landscape, and done their best impressions of the stuffiest academy professors. But there had been so many hours they'd filled just talking. About home, family, what life was like before the war with Gamilon. Derek had confided things to Mark he'd never told anyone else. He'd even admitted he'd actually enjoyed collecting butterflies that spring and summer just before the bombs fell. There was something about the little creatures' brilliant colors and quiet beauty that fascinated him.
"Something happened—before we started Argo's repairs. Nova… She told me she loved me."
Mark sat up.
Derek laced his fingers, leaned forward, and propped elbows on knees. "I haven't talked to her since. Before you ask why, I've tried, but it never works out."
"Go." Mark pointed to the door. "Right now."
Derek didn't get up.
"If you don't walk out of here, I'll push you through that door myself." Mark moved to get out of bed.
"I'm going. I'm going." Derek headed for the door, but stopped just before he reached it. "Venture, I wanted to say… we're always going to have our differences, but… I'm glad you're my friend."
A smile—a genuine one—spread across Mark's face. "Wildstar, you and Nova should get married."
"I don't—We haven't—It's too soon to bring up—"
"I'm serious." Mark's smile turned to a thoughtful frown. "You never know how much time you'll have with someone."
He was right. Especially now that they had to outrun that worldship, tomorrow wasn't guaranteed. Was he ready to consider that kind of commitment? To spend the rest of his life with one person? "I'll think about it." He stepped into the door's sensor range, and it hissed open.
"Ask her, Wildstar," Mark called after him as he stepped into the main treatment area.
Sane had cordoned off some of the patient beds, pulling curtains around them so people could be alone for a while if they wanted. There were still far too many injured here. Thankfully, some were almost ready to return to duty, including Patel, the young security guard who'd come back to life. Sane had kept him here for observation, just in case. But the young man was fine. He hurried around, helping Penny, Hansen, and the rest of the staff. If Derek hadn't seen Patel's body lying in the morgue a week ago, he'd never have believed the young man was once dead—or, nearly dead as Trelaina said.
Derek started toward Nova's door, but stopped. He should go back to the bridge. Check on non-critical repairs and get reports from the officers on duty. They weren't scheduled to warp again for another hour, but he wanted to make sure everything was all right. With the enemy only days behind them, they couldn't afford mistakes.
Mark was expecting him to go see Nova.
He reached for her door.
And his comm buzzed.
An emergency call from the bridge.
Derek sprinted out of the med bay.
When he reached the bridge, sweat beaded on his forehead. "Report," he barked as Sandor returned command of the bridge to him.
"Message from Commander Singleton," Sandor said. "All available EDF ships are ordered to Saturn-Titan." The XO's brow pinched. Something was very wrong. "A massive enemy fleet is headed toward Earth. They must have passed Telezart while we were blinded by the planet's atmosphere, or our long-range sensors would have spotted them."
They'd done everything in their power to get back to Earth in time to deliver their warning. Now, none of that mattered. Even if they sent a subspace message, it might not arrive in time for the EDF to act—if it reached them at all. Even warping as often as possible, it would take days for them to get home.
"Can we warp sooner than planned?" Derek said.
The second-shift engineer, Iokua, studied his console, made adjustments, and nodded hesitantly.
"Alori, prepare for warp. We have to get to Titan," Derek said.
Sandor closed the gap between him and Derek. "If we have any hope of getting back to Titan in time, we'll have to push the ship harder than is wise. We risk her coming apart."
"I know. But we have to do everything possible to make it back in time. If we don't, all of this—the lives we've lost—Deun deceiving and trying to kill us—even Trelaina's sacrifice will have been for nothing. We have to try."
Sandor nodded in acceptance.
Derek took the captain's chair as the ship prepared for an ahead-of-schedule warp. All crew members would receive notice within the next minute, so they'd be prepared. He only hoped they wouldn't reach Titan too late.
Starsha stood at the docks, waiting for the newest group of refugees to disembark from their battered ships. The freighter anchored at the nearest pier had chipped green paint and was over fifty years old, but it still flew, and this was its fourth trip from Gamilon to Iscandar and back.
There were so many people: women, children, the elderly, and a striking lack of adult men and young people.
She'd received word of this group's imminent arrival a half hour ago, right on the heels of the strange crystal island's rise from the sea, so she'd left Sasha in Elisa's care and hurried to the docks.
The implications of the quake and the ominous crystal island rising from the sea still clouded her mind. On her way out of the library and down to the docks, more than twenty people had stopped her, asking about the quake. She'd smiled and told them earthquakes happened sometimes and they shouldn't worry. She hoped she hadn't lied to them, but feared she had.
The first people out of the old Gamilon freighter were a light-skinned woman and three children, two girls and a boy. One of the girls held a clear storage pod containing a potted flower. The woman's face turned to the open sky, then to Mothertown, and tears came to her eyes. She hugged her children and wore a hopeful smile as she led them up the hill, toward their new temporary home.
Waiting to guide the newcomers were people who were already settled in. It warmed Starsha's heart to see so many willing to help others find safety and shelter, even after everything they'd endured these past many years on dying Gamilon.
People streamed past Starsha in family groups of four, five, and sometimes ten or more. She was glad so many had survived, and she hoped they'd be comfortable here while they waited for news of a suitable new home, somewhere they could all live in peace instead of being parceled out like unwanted children.
The flow of people coming off the old freighter dwindled until Starsha thought no one else was aboard. Just when she turned to follow the last of the refugees up the hill back to Mothertown, an old man, barely able to stand upright without the aid of his battered cane, stepped off the ship. He lost his balance and tipped forward, threatening to fall head first into the water.
Starsha ran toward the pier, praying she'd reach the old man in time.
But just before the newcomer fell, a middle-aged man, wearing the green and black uniform of the GRN, jumped from the ship and caught the old man, steadying him.
Starsha stopped running but hurried the rest of the way to where the men stood. She supported the old man's other arm, and together, she and the uniformed stranger made sure the old man reached shore safely. "Preparations are made for you inside the palace."
The old man thanked them both before starting up the hill on his own.
"We should follow him," said the stranger. "He's too stubborn to ask for help." Something about the set of this man's eyes, the shape of his face, the way he carried himself. It was familiar. "I'm Admiral Talan," he said. "My son Masterson speaks highly of you."
She should have guessed. "You knew my parents."
"I did. Kara and Alexander were dear friends of my wife and I," Admiral Talan said. "We were saddened to learn of their passing some years ago."
They crested the hill, and the old man they were following stopped as he got his first glimpse of the Palace of Iscandar. Its tower gleamed in the midday sun. The surrounding courtyards burst with greenery and flowers of all colors. A flock of migrating birds swept by overhead, their voices calling to one another to keep pace as they headed for another island farther north.
"It's gracious of you to host so many here on Iscandar," said the admiral. "When the council and I looked for places to send our people, we had far too few options. Most places have no more room to spare. There are still a number left on Gamilon. They volunteered to be evacuated last, so others less able could depart first. He was one of them, but if he stayed much longer, he wouldn't have been able to make the journey." Admiral Talan pointed to the old man, now shuffling toward the palace. "I wouldn't have come, but the only way to get him here was to bring him myself. I must head back to Gamilon before the day's end. With the departure of my son, I've been leading the council in his stead." He followed the old man, matching pace so he didn't overtake him.
Starsha stayed beside the admiral.
"I'm concerned for Masterson," said Admiral Talan. "He hasn't contacted me, not even to let me know he's all right. Gamilon can't lose another leader so soon after… Desslok's death."
Starsha's heart leaped. Admiral Talan didn't know Desslok was still alive. The urge to tell him the truth—about Desslok, Masterson, the Cometines, and the horrible bargain that kept Masterson silent—filled her. But what if she told him, and the rest of the council found out? It would get back to the Cometines, and that would mean death for anyone still on Gamilon—perhaps those here on Iscandar, too.
"I'm sorry," said Admiral Talan. "I shouldn't have mentioned—"
"No. It's all right."
There was so much of Masterson in this man. His hair, once dark, was fading to gray in places; he had the same brown eyes, the solid jaw, though his chin and nose were thinner, his eyes set closer. But there was something stronger in this man—a fortitude Masterson didn't quite possess. She hadn't known this encompassing sense of security since her father's death. Perhaps… it was safe to confide in him.
No one, except the old man they followed, was close enough to hear them.
Starsha slowed and lowered her voice. "I need to tell you something. But you must promise you won't repeat it. To anyone. If you do, it could mean everyone on both our worlds dies."
Admiral Talan's face became unreadable, but his concern charged the air. Two infinite seconds passed before he nodded ascent.
"Desslok is alive."
Surprise shattered the admiral's neutral front. He stopped mid-step. "Are you sure?" His tone was guarded, reserved, but it held flickers of impossible hope.
Starsha took a steadying breath. "Masterson hasn't told me everything, but yes, I'm sure of it." Tears clouded her vision, slipped down her cheeks. She didn't wipe them away as a smile arrived unbidden.
"You've talked with my son? When is he bringing Leader Desslok back to Gamilon? Why hasn't Masterson told us this?"
Her smile faded. "The Cometines had him—them."
"Are they prisoners?"
"No." Starsha took out her comm and scrolled through her exchanges with Masterson over the past months since he'd left Gamilon. Some of these notes were personal, not intended for anyone other than Masterson. They confided hopes, fears, prayers. But what if these words could ease the fear of a worried father? Lend clarity to a man leading what was left of his people? Wasn't it worth a little sacrifice on her part? "This should help." She handed over her comm.
A refreshing breeze swept past as Admiral Talan quickly read the entire collection of messages and returned her comm. His relief mixed with concern, weighing down the air, and pushing his brows together into a tight, wrinkled line. "I'll do as you've asked and tell no one. But should my son or Leader Desslok need our help, I'll ensure what remains of our defense fleet is ready." He resumed following the old man, who was halfway to the palace now. "If there's truly a Cometine presence near enough to enforce Princess Invidia's threat of destruction, it's wise to be prepared, even if we're never called to action."
Starsha kept pace with him. "I'm sorry Masterson couldn't tell you. He knew you'd ask questions, and he didn't want to risk your safety."
"My son has always been prone to worry," said the admiral, even when he aided Desslok's rise to power years ago. His caution has often prevented disaster. But I fear it will grow into something far more crippling if he fails to entrust his worries to Adonai."
An icy knot twisted her stomach as Admiral Talan's words brought back deep concern over the rise of the crystal island less than an hour ago. "There's something worrying me too—something horrible. And I don't know what to do about it."
"Tell me," he said with fatherly concern.
By the time Starsha finished her account of Adrianna's mysterious death, her disturbing discovery beneath the palace, Arbah's writings, and the troubling appearance of the crystal island, they'd caught up to the old man they escorted.
"I've never heard of The Living," Admiral Talan said, "but I know the name Astragon. As Elisa told you, there are several legends surrounding him, but most refer to Astragon as King of Dreams, the way Arbah did, and none elaborate on his identity or how to find him. Elisa knows far more about myth and legend than I do. If she doesn't know, I'm afraid I don't either."
Starsha's hopes of learning something new about Astragon, however small, evaporated.
"I have studied Arbah's reign. He was… less than reliable at times."
That was a tactful way of saying it. Arbah was widely known to have gone insane during his last years occupying Iscandar's throne. Questions about his mental stability had risen as early as his fifth year as king.
The old man, still shuffling a dozen strides ahead of Starsha and Admiral Talan, started humming. His steps kept time with the haunting music. Starsha did her best to ignore him.
The admiral continued. "But if Elisa's reading of Arbah's words brought about something so significant as an island rising from the sea, perhaps this particular account contains some truth. Especially in light of what you found beneath the palace, I think the new island is worth investigating. Something there may give you insight. If the creature living under your feet and Arbah's journals speak the truth, we'll need to move everyone off-world, and that will take time."
The cool breeze settled, making the old man's voice carry farther than before. He'd stopped humming and started singing.
"Never before have the stars been so bright.
Listen to them, children. Listen well.
They speak through the curtain of night;
They tell of one coming to rend heaven's veil."
The old man dropped into humming for several measures before resuming.
"The bringer of light flies on wings of glass.
He comes to sever evil's root.
His heart is phosphor, his claws are brass.
To him, doth Adonai strength impute.
Fire and heat spew from his mouth.
He sees what few can see.
By the Sides of the North and the Ways of the South
He keeps his reliquary.
Oh children, listen. Listen!
Heed the tales of old.
When darkness comes,
And come it shall, one will break its hold.
Look to the stars, little ones, and wonder.
Adonai is swift to hear.
Deliverance will burn the skies
When the King of Dreams draws near."
The old man fell into humming again as he neared the entrance to the palace courtyards.
Starsha took three hurried steps and caught up to him. "Where did you hear that song?"
The man seemed unconcerned as he tottered past a bed of bright blue flowers. "My great-grandmother used to sing it," he said without breaking stride. "I was only a few years old when she died, but her songs stayed with me." He watched an orange-crested falcon fly overhead. "Haven't heard it in decades, but it came to mind when I saw that." He tipped his chin toward the northern beach and the ominous crystal island. Reminded me of glass, I suppose. Help an old man up these steps." He jutted an elbow toward Starsha as he came to the base of three shallow stairs.
She did as he asked, and Admiral Talan arrived in time to support the man's other arm.
Starsha traded glances with the admiral as they entered the palace and saw the old man to a room.
The moment they were alone in the hall, Starsha said, "I'll be ready to leave in a few minutes. Will you come to the island with me?"
Admiral Talan nodded. "I'll meet you at the north beach docks."
An hour before Argo was due to warp again, Derek woke to an emergency alert on his comm. Thankful he hadn't bothered to get out of his uniform, he headed for the bridge.
Homer waved him to Comms the moment he arrived. "You need to hear this." He shoved a spare headset into Derek's hand and played a garbled message.
"shhhzzzttt… Too many of them… shhhzzzttt… Taken Pluto… shhhzzzttt… Neptune base… attacked… shhhzzzttt… Hurry, Star Force."
The Gatlanteans were already at Neptune—or likely farther, by now.
"That's Captain Gideon," Derek said. "Did he send more information?"
"If there was anything else, it didn't arrive," Homer said.
"How old is the message?
"Twenty-two hours."
Derek faced the on-duty stellar cartography officer, Tien Bian. "How long will it take the enemy to reach Titan?"
Tien ran calculations. "If the defense fleet doesn't stop them, they'll arrive…" She paled. "Late tomorrow."
"We're out of time," Derek said. "We need to get home. Now."
At the engineering terminal, Iokua protested. "But we can't do anything to—"
"Orion." Derek called the chief engineer before Iokua finished his sentence. "I need you on the bridge."
"I'll be right up, Captain." Fatigue filled Orion's voice, but already, the video bounced, and the sound of running feet echoed in the background just before the call ended.
Derek shoved the comm in a pocket. "Tien, Watts," Derek traded a grim look with Sandor, "find the nearest Aquarius Gate leading back to the solar system."
Tien's uneasiness permeated the bridge, and Watts shifted nervously in her seat at Radar.
"Yes, Captain," Tien choked.
Watts nodded wordlessly and set to work.
"Wildstar, do you want to reply to Captain Gideon?" Homer said.
He wanted to send an immediate response, tell the EDF they were on their way at best speed. But if he did that and the Gatlanteans intercepted the message…
He handed the headset back to Homer. "No. We can't let them know we're coming."
Sandor stood beside Derek. "I agree. Maintaining radio silence is the wisest choice, even if it means keeping the EDF in the dark. We don't know how far behind us the Gatlantean base is, and their fleet is too far away for long-range sensors to register. The engine still isn't completely repaired. If the enemy finds us, and we need to run, we won't be able to for long."
Orion arrived, sweat from his run pouring down his forehead and neck. "Iokua report to Yamazaki in engineering."
The young man hurried off the bridge, looking relieved.
"We're crossing a Gate corridor as soon as we find one," Derek said.
Orion nodded soberly. "I'll make sure she stays in one piece."
"Can we improve cooldown time after warps? If the Gate drops us too far outside the solar system, we may need to warp multiple times. If that happens, we can't afford another four-hour delay."
"I'll do everything I can, Wildstar."
While Orion made a call to Yamazaki and Tien and Watts scoured the stars for an Aquarius Gate, Derek took the captain's chair. Everyone on the bridge, except Alori, had endured a Gate crossing. Last time he was inside a Gate, he'd almost died, along with the rest of Argo's crew. He remembered it all: Nova unconscious, shot by someone they'd tried to help; Desslok's attack—a last effort to stop them from getting home with the Cosmo DNA; the terrifying journey through the Gate, hoping their shield didn't give out before they reached the end of the corridor.
Holding Nova's too-still body as he called for help while Gamilon boarders tried to kill them—sometimes the scene still haunted his dreams.
Mark's words from earlier came back. His friend was right. He didn't know how much time he had with Nova. But he didn't want to push her into anything—didn't want to push himself into anything, either. He wasn't ready to propose, might not be for a long time.
He took out his comm and opened the direct message thread with Nova. As the bridge crew worked, a hundred questions jumbled in Derek's head. What should he say to her? Or should he wait and risk one, or both, of them not making it through the coming conflict with the Gatlanteans?
Derek typed a message. Erased it. Typed it again. Rewrote it a third time. Finally, he settled on something. I meant what I said the other day.
The instant he tapped Send, Tien announced, "Found it."
Derek stuffed his comm in a pocket and brought up the stellar cartography station on his screen. There, surrounded by stars, hung an all-too-familiar glowing circle.
"It's within warping distance," Tien continued. "The Iscandari module says the exit point is just outside the solar system. Transit time is two hours and forty-seven minutes." She bit her lip after reading how long they'd be stuck inside the Gate corridor."
"Orion, how long until we can warp again?" said Derek.
"Fifty-three minutes. It'll strain the cooling system, but she'll hold."
Derek nodded. "Alori, set course for the Gate, full sublight. Be ready to warp on my command."
"Yes, sir." Alori adjusted Argo's heading and increased speed.
Sandor approached Derek and said quietly, "Can we talk upstairs?"
Derek nodded. "I'll meet you there." He tapped a command into his armrest, and both Derek and the captain's chair rose through the bridge ceiling and docked inside the captain's cabin.
Stars stretched out ahead of Argo in a vast, seemingly endless expanse. This trip home would be difficult, especially since they'd been forced to take a Gate. He only hoped the crew would weather the crossing well.
Sandor knocked once before stepping into the cabin.
Derek left the captain's chair to stand in front of the wide viewport spanning one whole wall of the small cabin.
A long quiet fell between the two men.
"I don't know if we're going to make it back, Sandor." Derek crossed his arms, eyes set on a distant star.
Sandor stood beside him. "We need to be prepared for the possibility that we might not. Can you live—or die—knowing we could have been there if we hadn't come out here at all?" His words hit hard.
Sandor was right. What if they reached Earth to find the fleets destroyed, the EDF disbanded, and all of Earth's people dead or enslaved?
"I have to believe we'll make it back when we're most needed," Derek said. "God… will bring us home."
Sandor allowed a small smile. "You never would have said that a few months ago."
"People chance," Derek said. "Sometimes for the better." He sighed. "But the Gate crossing won't be easy. I'd say we could allow the ones who have trouble to take a mild tranquilizer, but I don't think we can afford to have that many crew members unable to respond quickly once we're out of the Gate. We don't know what's waiting for us on the other side, and we don't have time to send a scout."
"I agree," Sandor said. "I'll notify Dr. Sane to be ready in case of extreme reactions." The XO tapped out a quick message.
"Did… Captain Avatar ever doubt his decisions?"
Sandor chuckled knowingly. "All the time, Wildstar. He and I often talked about whether he was doing what was best—for the crew and for Earth. He carried a heavy burden during the Iscandar voyage. There were days he spent hours seeking the will of God, only to emerge from this room without answers. But every time he took a step in faith, there was just enough light for one more step."
"But he always seemed so confident when he made decisions in the heat of battle."
"He had years of experience captaining ships before the Iscandar mission. He'd even fought the Gamilons several times before Argo left Earth. Those experiences informed every call he made, and he learned to trust his instincts in a fight. It was everything else he doubted. That you didn't know is a testament to his courage and leadership abilities. He showed you what you, as his officer, needed to see—a strong captain. But he was just another man, flawed, unsure, and often afraid. Despite that, he chose to give his fear and uncertainty to God, and God gave him strength to do what needed to be done."
Derek turned his back to the stars.
A scattering of Captain Avatar's books occupied one shelf. The lettering on their spines varied. Some were in English, others in Japanese. Adam, Avatar's son, had taken the captain's hat, coat, and other clothing, along with several pictures.
Derek approached the writing desk next to the nearly empty bookshelves and slid open the top drawer, expecting it to be empty. Inside lay an old-fashioned pen and two leather-bound books. "Did you know these were still here?" He held up the books before opening the cover of the thicker volume.
A Bible. Inside the front cover was written Abraham Juzo Avatar.
"I didn't know he was Japanese."
"Only a quarter," Sandor said. "And no. I thought Adam had taken everything when he left Argo."
"We should deliver these when we get back to Earth." Derek leafed through the Bible. Handwritten notes littered page margins. He stopped to read several comments. Many were dated 2199 or 2200.
When he shut the Bible and opened the other book, he discovered it was a journal. The first entry was a few days before they'd left for Iscandar. Reading just a few pages was like hearing the thoughts of the man he revered as a mentor—and the nearest thing he'd had to a father since his parents' death.
He flipped to the final entry. The handwriting was weak but still legible. He must have written this from his sickbed.
August 16th, 2200
It's almost time. I feel it. Soon, I'll go Home. My last voyage. Adam isn't ready, but I think I am. My only regret is leaving Wildstar and the rest of this crew. That young man has a lot to learn, and I hoped I'd be here to help teach him. He's become a second son to me. He's so self-sufficient. He can do anything he sets his mind to. He's brave—brash sometimes—loyal, strong. But he has a temper that gets him in trouble. I pray one day soon he sees he can't do everything by himself.
Maybe Derek and Adam will accomplish something great together. I'd like to see that, if God allows me to look down on them sometimes.
I'm tired. So tired.
It's time to rest.
Derek shut the journal and laid a hand atop its cool surface. The book blurred, and he swiped his eyes clear three times. He wished he could keep these books, read them, understand what made Abraham Avatar who he'd been. He knew he'd see the old captain again one day, and in that he found immeasurable comfort. But he still wished he'd had more time with him before his death. "Yes. Adam should have these."
Maybe he'd take the Bible and journal back to his cabin and read them while they traveled to the Gate.
"Long-range sensors are picking up the Eratite ship." The announcement came when Desslok's ships were halfway through traversing Nasca's fleet. The Cometine ships had parted to allow them passage, just as Nasca promised. But Desslok resented having to make the demand at all.
As his flagship passed Nasca's, Desslok was sorely tempted to order his fleet to slow their speed and inconvenience Nasca for as long as possible. He deserved as much—and far more. The Cometine general's thoughtless cruelty to his own people had often made Desslok wish any number of horrific fates on the man.
"Sir, the Eratites are changing course. They're heading for… an Aquarius Gate."
Desslok cursed, his dislike of Nasca set aside for now, in favor of his hatred for the Eratites. "Do not let them enter that Gate."
"Yes, Sir." Helm pushed the ship to max sublight, and the rest of the fleet followed. "Calculating warp trajectory."
Masterson had, miraculously, stopped fidgeting. Instead, he stood deathly still. Sweat beaded his forehead, and his brow wrinkled in distress. His mouth hung slightly open, as if he wanted to say something but didn't dare.
"You're dismissed, Talan," Desslok said before Masterson summoned the courage to comment. Talan had promised not to undermine him, but he hadn't promised to keep his mouth shut.
"But Sire—"
"Go," Desslok snapped.
Masterson left the bridge without another word.
"Warp calculations complete," Helm announced. "Time to warp, fifty-four minutes."
They should have been able to warp immediately.
Desslok opened a map of the surrounding area. A planetoid and twelve moons barred their way. Could the universe simply not be against him just once? It had been the same with all his generals, all his fleets sent against the Eratites. Nature itself had shielded that ship on far too many occasions. Their luck had to be running thin, and he would be there when it finally ran out.
Masterson hurried away from the bridge, comm already in hand. A notice told him they'd be warping soon and displayed a countdown in one corner of the screen. He had less than an hour to stop Desslok from intercepting the Eratites.
As much as he wanted to enlist David's help, he didn't want to put his friend in that position. It would mean David betraying his own shipmates. Not to mention breaking the promise he'd made to Desslok.
But what else could he do? He couldn't let this happen.
Masterson passed several crew members, all heading to their posts to prepare for warp. Even a handful of the security team hurried past, probably headed for… the brig.
He couldn't get help from anyone else in the fleet. But Morta might know something useful. This ship was Cometine-made, after all. What if there was a way to stop the ship without hurting anyone? If the flagship became incapacitated, the rest of the fleet would swarm to protect it until a replacement was chosen and everyone off-loaded onto the new ship. It would take hours, and no one would be the wiser.
Wasn't sabotage just as treacherous as outright mutiny?
The thought stung.
He shouldn't do this. But there was no other way and no time to find another solution.
He trailed security, leaving a believable gap so they wouldn't notice him following them.
When he reached the detention cells, he forcibly relaxed tense shoulders and put on a neutral expression. "I need to speak to the Cometine prisoner." His voice wavered as he said the last word, but the man on duty didn't seem to notice.
"Of course, Prime Minister Talan." The man motioned Masterson to follow him down the row of cells. "He was sedated several hours ago, but he's alert again. I'd advise you keep the energy barrier up in case he throws anything or tries to grab you."
"I'd like to go into the cell," Masterson said.
The man stopped. "That isn't a good idea, sir. The last person to go into his cell lost part of an ear. We had to start using sedation gas instead of injections, because he wouldn't let us get near him."
"I'll be all right. I need to speak to him face to face," Masterson said, fighting to keep the urgency out of his voice.
"But sir—"
"Please," Masterson held up a hand to silence the other man, "just let me into the cell. If I need help, I'll let you know."
The crewman acquiesced, reluctantly.
When Morta's cell clicked open, Masterson expected the Cometine to fly at them like a crazed beast. Instead, the man barely looked their way.
Morta lay on his bunk, facing the wall. "Go on. Get it over with. I've told you everything you asked, but that's not enough for you." He sat up and faced Masterson. "Oh, it's only you." Still-healing bruises decorated Morta's face. So, this was why Desslok forbade him from coming here two weeks ago—so he wouldn't be witness to the Cometine's beating.
The man's eyes were cold and hard. Gone was the naïve young aide who'd boarded this ship weeks ago. In his place was this violent, vulgar prisoner.
"What do you want?" Morta punctuated the sentence with a racial slur.
Masterson waited until the security guard was out of earshot. "I need to know how to stop this fleet."
Morta raised a brow. When Masterson didn't retract his statement, Morta laughed. "No wonder Desslok locked you away. You'd make a good Gatlantean, Masterson Talan, though you need to work on your subtlety."
The remark hit hard. Masterson swallowed the urge to turn around and leave. "I want to delay us, not kill anyone."
"And you think all Gatlanteans run about the worldship with weapon in hand, cutting down their enemies without a thought? Far more often, we simply make life difficult for those we oppose. Is that not a more supreme vengeance than a simple killing? Bloodletting is necessary—even enjoyable at times—but it's not all we think about." The young man wore a smirk. "Do you still want my help?"
The question hung in the air.
Outside the detention cell, the man who'd let Masterson in waited.
"You may go," Masterson said to the security guard.
"But Prime Minister—"
"I'll call you when I'm ready to leave."
"Yes, Sir." The man obeyed, but even as he walked away, a hard knot settled in Masterson's stomach.
Masterson faced Morta. "Tell me how to stop this ship."
"Remove the block on my comm."
If he did that, Morta would have access to ship systems. He didn't have security clearance, but that didn't mean it was harmless to allow him into the computers.
"No," Masterson said.
"I suppose I can't help you then." Morta sat straight, arms crossed.
Only forty-two minutes left until the fleet went to warp. According to sensors, they'd emerge between the Eratite ship and an active Aquarius Gate. There would be no other chances to intervene without taking lives. When Desslok returned his comm, he'd also returned his access to command codes.
"You have five minutes." Masterson used a temporary override that would allow Morta comm access.
Morta tapped a spot just above one ear—where his comm implant was housed. He scanned information only he could see. "There is a way. But first, I need something from you. My freedom."
"I can't do that."
Morta settled onto his bunk and tapped his comm to shut it off. He stretched out and rolled toward the wall, turning his back to Masterson.
If Morta wouldn't help him, he had no one else to turn to. "Wait."
Morta sat up slowly. "Yes?"
"I'll get you out of here. You have my word."
The Cometine got up. He stood a bit shorter than Masterson, but his brashness made up for the height deficit. "I've heard Masterson Talan keeps his promises. But you've just broken loyalty so many ways by coming here. Maybe your word isn't enough."
Guilt pierced Masterson.
"Stop looking at me like a wounded hatchling," Morta said. "I believe you'll keep your promise—if only out of some self-righteous attempt to atone for breaking Desslok's confidence." His hand hovered over his comm implant. "Just remember, if you don't release me, I'll reveal our little tryst to everyone on this ship, or maybe to your whole fleet."
Morta's words bit through Masterson like icy fangs. There was no backing out now. With a few wordless commands, the whole ship would know Masterson had been here for more than a routine security check. Chances were his overriding Morta's comm block was already being reviewed by security.
No matter the cost, he had to save the Eratites. If he didn't help them, who would?
Derek shut his eyes as the world around him blurred to form mind-bending shapes and colors. He counted to twenty, then twenty-five. At thirty-two, Argo dropped out of warp.
Ahead loomed the round Gate, hanging still and silent among the stars. It shimmered like every other active Gate they'd passed through on the way to and from Iscandar. At least this one didn't glow a forbidding shade of violet like Gehenna's Bridge had. That Gate had almost killed them all.
A reminder went out to the crew, telling them they'd be crossing over into the Gate in fifteen minutes. Crew members known to have difficulty during crossings were assigned to make the trip alongside someone who tolerated Gates well, but with so many ill-affected, most immune were responsible for two, three, or sometimes five crewmates, depending on what corps they were in.
Orion had volunteered to shepherd a whole third of the engineering team through the crossing, and Sandor was taking half the science team, so that would relieve the burden on some.
Of the bridge crew, Homer and Daniel Rowland—Sandor's stand-in—would be all right.
Dash was already tapping a foot, anxious to get the crossing over with.
Eager had replaced Tien at Cartography, and Watts was still at Radar. Those two hadn't done well with previous crossings. Derek hoped today would be different.
Yamazaki had opted to take Orion's place on the bridge. The middle-aged man's nervous frown left deep-set wrinkles around his eyes and mouth.
There was no way to tell how Alori would respond. He'd never been through an Aquarius Gate, much less seen one since their existence was still classified. Derek had given the stand-in helmsman a quick debrief before they'd warped.
That only left… himself. Last time he'd gone through a Gate, he'd seen and heard things he wished he could forget. Some of those horrors still haunted him on especially quiet nights.
God… help me keep this ship on course, no matter what we face.
The Gate stared at Derek, an unblinking eye suspended in space. If all went well with the crossing, they'd reach Titan in a few hours.
"All ahead—"
"Warp signatures to port," Watts announced. She switched to the Iscandari module to identify the new arrivals. "Gamilons! Three capitol ships and four dozen escorts. The flagship is giving off a… Cometine signature?"
Derek gripped the arms of his chair so hard his gloves creaked.
"Incoming fire." Watts scrambled to fasten her safety harness.
"Alori, get us—"
Before Derek finished giving the order, Alori sent Argo into a dive, avoiding all but a few glancing hits to the stern. Minor damage reports trickled in.
"Shield up," Derek said.
Rowland triggered the wave motion shield in time to protect them from a second barrage. "Down to ninety percent."
"We've got to get out of here," Derek said. They could skirt past the Gamilons, dive into the Gate and hope for the best as they raced the enemy fleet to the other side. Energy weapons hadn't fared well inside Gehenna's Bridge. Perhaps that would hold true inside this Gate. But what if the Gamilons had learned from that encounter and started carrying shells? Worse still, what if the Gamilons followed them all the way through the Gate? Argo might be able to escape once they reached normal space again. But what if the Gamilons followed them? The Gamilon flagship was Cometine-made, which implied an alliance. With the Gatlantean fleet already swarming between Neptune and Uranus, likely outnumbering the EDF, to bring more hostiles into the fight was suicidal.
"Gamilon ships are moving to cut us off from the Gate," Watts said. "They'll be in position in two minutes."
"It's now or never, Wildstar," Dash barked. "We've got to go in."
Captain Avatar had shown his bridge crew the confident strength of a commanding officer. If ever this crew needed decisive leadership, it was now.
"No." Derek kept his voice firm. "If we go in now, they'll only come after us."
"Then we're in trouble," Dash's words were harsher this time, angry.
Eager's face held unspoken questions. Watts was on the verge of panic, though she was admirably holding it back. Rowland shifted uncomfortably at the science station, and Yamazaki's gloved hands gripped the edges of his terminal.
What Derek wouldn't give for Nova's quiet confidence at the radar. Sandor's stoic strength. Orion's iron determination. Alori hadn't spoken a word in protest, but Derek wished it were Mark at the helm.
Homer was intent on his station and hadn't even looked Derek's way.
"Sixty seconds until we lose access to the Gate." Watts' voice wavered.
"We're holding our ground for now," Derek said. "Alori, Watts, calculate an escape vector. Yamazaki, how long until we're able to warp again?"
"Thirty minutes."
Still too long of a wait. They'd have to make more adjustments during the crossing.
"Incoming message from the Gamilon flagship, Wildstar," Homer said. "It's—it's video."
"Put it on-screen."
Even before the image formed above him, Derek knew who'd called them.
The face of Desslok of Gamilon materialized.
The few times Derek had seen this man, the Gamilon Leader had been filled with a forbidding intensity. Today, he was cold.
Desslok spoke, and a translation appeared at the bottom of the screen. "Surrender now, Eratites, and your deaths will be quick. Resist, and I will tear your ship apart one piece at a time.
Derek met the other man's stare. "Our fight isn't with you anymore, Desslok. We only want to get home."
"Home," Desslok spat. "You've prevented far too many of my people from having that same privilege. Their widows, their sons, and daughters, their brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, mourn them. All because of you." Hate ignited Desslok's next words. "Today, I will right that wrong, little Captain."
There was iron in this man, and he would not bend for anyone. It would take someone far stronger than Derek and his crew to dissuade Desslok of Gamilon.
God, help.
It was the only prayer Derek could muster before Desslok ended the call, and a missile barrage streaked toward Argo.
Gunnery intercepted most of the salvo, but four missiles slammed into the shield.
"Seventy-five percent," Rowland said.
"Wildstar, make a decision!" Dash bellowed from his station as he rushed to coordinate defenses for the next wave of enemy fire.
The Gamilon fleet was now a wall between Argo and the Gate corridor.
Dash's shouts, Watts' announcements of new waves of enemy fire, even Rowland's shield status updates faded as Derek understood he was helpless. If they ran, they'd abandon Earth to the Cometines. If they forged ahead, broke the Gamilon line, they'd lead the enemy right to the floundering defense fleet. They couldn't even use the Wave Gun without destroying their way home.
Maybe running was the best thing. Lure the Gamilons away from the area, so Argo could attack without putting the Gate at risk.
Stand still, and see the salvation of the LORD.
The words came quietly into his mind. It was a simple phrase, something Alori had asked him to read this week. But what good was standing still doing them now?
Stand still, and see.
Rowland called out an update, and Dash yelled something from his station. Even Alori and Homer were turning around to look his way as damage reports flared to life on the captain's console.
Stand still.
A warning announced their shield was critically low. One more hit, and it would crumble.
Stand still.
The chaos of the bridge collapsed on top of Derek, but the quiet words stayed with him even when Dash rushed from his station and raised a hand, ready to throw a punch.
Derek caught Dash's fist before it made contact. "Stop it." His words held a firmness that made Dash instantly withdraw and sent the rest of the bridge silent. Only the blaring of alarms filled the room as the Wave Motion Shield failed.
"You've lost your mind," Dash said from several feet away.
"Stand still," Derek repeated the words still lingering in his mind.
Dash took a step toward Derek. "That's crazy. We'll all be—"
"Warp signatures, to port of the Gamilon fleet," Watts said, almost frantic.
Derek's stomach dropped. Dash was right. He'd made a mistake. What had possessed him to listen to a stray thought? Now they'd all die because he couldn't simply act.
A huge fleet tumbled out of warp.
"Cometines!" Watts cried. "They're driving straight through the Gamilon fleet. And they're not stopping." She watched the radar screen wide-eyed. "They've already destroyed a third of the Gamilon escort ships. Their flight paths are increasingly erratic."
Damage reports stopped rolling in.
"Gamilon ships are breaking line to engage the Cometines. There's an opening at… this heading." Watts sent the information to Derek and Alori.
"Take us through," Derek said before saying to Dash, "Get back to your post."
Alori took Argo through the break in the Gamilon ships, careful to stay out of the way as Gamilons and Cometines traded fire.
When Argo entered the Gate corridor, the whole bridge crew sat in stunned silence. No one said a word. Not even Dash.
Watts and Rowland kept watch for anyone who might have followed them, but there were no signs of Gamilons or Cometines, even after a full thirty minutes.
They'd made it through.
They were on their way home.
When the first wave of Cometine ships dropped out of warp and rammed through three of his ships, Desslok left his seat. "What idiot is responsible for this?" he bellowed.
"Ships are registered to General Gorse, Sir," came the reply.
Desslok spat a string of curses, some in Gamilon, some in Cometine. "Target every one of those ships and destroy them."
"What about the flagship, Sir?"
Gorse always had been an idiot, but this was treachery.
"Bring it down," Desslok said sharply.
The officer at Radar spoke. "The Eratite ship is closing. They're going to slip past us."
He'd had them at his mercy. And again, the odds were inexplicably upended. The urge to pursue the Eratites burned inside him. He'd hunted them these past months, renewing the need to take his revenge. Each day had made the hunger for vengeance grow until it was constantly in his mind. But he would not abandon his fleet to let them fend off Gorse alone. They'd be slaughtered.
"Hold position. Target Gorse's fleet."
"Yes, Sir."
The Eratite ship crossed the Gate threshold.
They'd been helpless, in the palm of his hand. And somehow, they'd escaped.
Bitter hatred rolled through him, and he vowed he would destroy that ship, even if he had to die again to do it.
Masterson burst onto the bridge just as Desslok ordered their first engagement with the Cometine fleet. This was all wrong. Morta was supposed to disable the engine or compromise their weapon systems.
He wasn't supposed to call a fleet of warships.
Within visual range, a Gamilon ship exploded, and something in Masterson broke. The flagship plowed through the shattered remains of the dead escort, pursuing the Cometines who'd destroyed it.
Masterson fumbled with his comm.
Hadar still stood, as did their other capitol ship, Vengeance II. But the escorts were falling far too quickly.
He checked for Morta's comm signal.
It was gone. He'd already left the ship.
He'd been a fool, his reasoning blinded by desperation—by unbelief.
Morta had used and betrayed him.
The Eratites had escaped, but as more and more Gamilon ships fell, only one thought filled Masterson. Adonai, forgive me! He sank to his knees in devastated silence as Desslok did everything he could to save what remained of their fleet.
Starsha met Admiral Talan at the north shore docks. The skiff she sometimes used was anchored there, and the newly risen crystal island sparkled several leagues out to sea.
Once Starsha was seated behind the skiff's controls, Talan sat beside her.
Before she lost her nerve, she throttled the boat, sending a waist-high wake splashing over the dock as they sped toward the looming island. All the way across the water, thoughts of what might wait on that island plagued her. If, by some miracle, their visit revealed nothing, she'd have to learn how to use oceanographic equipment and send a drone into the depths to plumb for answers.
Staggered prayers punctuated every worry, easing some of her fears, but a sense of foreboding lingered as they drew closer to their destination.
When they reached the island, Talan disembarked first and anchored a mooring stake in the pristine shore. Everything here was made of crystal. Only loose grains of sand, swept here by the ocean, crunched beneath Starsha and Talan's boots like the grind of metal claws. Sound echoed far more easily here.
The admiral pointed to a jagged, winding path. "There's a cave up there." The mouth was just visible from the shoreline. Instead of the rough edges of a naturally formed cave entrance, this one was perfectly round, like the doors inside the palace.
Starsha followed Talan up the path. Her thick dress and boots protected her from scrapes as they wedged past tightly packed crystals and scaled low rock formations. Once, she almost lost her balance, but the admiral caught her wrist and kept her from falling.
They arrived at the cave entrance a half hour later. The cave mouth should have been dark, but afternoon sun reflected off the shimmering ground and cave walls, casting light much farther inside than expected. With no need for assistive lighting, they stepped inside, cautiously.
Crystalline spikes with razored edges lined the entry tunnel, forming an orderly row that followed both curved walls. Thick spears of crystal also hung from the ceiling in a curious, orderly pattern. Each stalactite was spaced a hand's breadth apart and hung down far enough to make both Starsha and Admiral Talan wary of falling shards.
Starsha followed the entry tunnel, Admiral Talan right beside her.
They stopped when the tunnel took a slight, downward curve to the right, and eerie silence enveloped them. When there was no sign of anything lurking ahead, they forged on.
Luminescent crystals lit their way when natural light failed. The fist-sized rocks were embedded in the walls just far enough apart to keep the light low, even in the confined space.
The tunnel descended in a downward spiral for so long Starsha's legs ached, and even Admiral Talan seemed uncomfortable. Just when Starsha would have given up, the tunnel leveled out and opened into a vast chamber.
Starsha stepped out of the tunnel. The path extended a dozen steps beyond the end of the passage. It hugged the chamber wall, and a chest-high barrier of crystal separated anyone standing on the path from a deep chasm that reached so far underground light couldn't reach the bottom.
But the chasm wasn't the only thing of note. Standing in the center of the great abyss, jutting from the depths of the planet, was a huge piece of dusky blue crystal. Within the stone was a tangle of vines and thorny plants, all curled around a gigantic, four-legged silhouette. It had six bird-like wings, and a fanned tail half as long as its body. Even beneath the snarl of roots and leaves, the outline of the imprisoned creature's majestic head and neck was discernible.
"Is that… a dragon?" Starsha whispered to Admiral Talan.
"Not like any I've seen." Talan showed her an image on his comm.
He was right. Gamilon's dragons were longer, with lithe or barbed tails and only two wings—and those resembled a bat's wings, not a sparrow's.
"It could still be a dragon," Talan said. "But it's not from Gamilon."
"Why is it buried here?" Starsha's whisper echoed more loudly than she intended, causing her voice to reverberate around the chamber.
"It isn't buried." The admiral stepped toward the barrier wall. "It's caged."
"Why? By who?" Starsha gripped the crystal wall. Its dulled edges dug into her hands. "How long has it been here? Surely it isn't still alive."
The creature's eye popped open and fixed on Starsha. It was fiercely violet, and the slitted pupil narrowed when it found her.
Starsha backed away from the crystal barrier so quickly she tripped. Her back slammed into the cavern wall, and she lost her breath.
One of the beast's claws twitched. The tiny movement sent a crack snaking through the crystal pillar.
"We—we need to—leave. Now." Starsha gasped for air as she tore past Admiral Talan and hurried upward, heading for the exit.
Talan followed.
Within a minute Starsha had regained the ability to take deep breaths, but the creature's violet eye still haunted her. It was so like Aurelia Guardiana's eyes. That witch had whisked her away and held her captive when she was just a child, but she still remembered the woman's face—her cruel voice and mocking laugh. Thoughts of that nightmarish experience hadn't returned in a very long time, but now they came without mercy.
She stopped, shaking.
Admiral Talan caught up to her and laid a fatherly hand on her shoulder. As if he could hear her innermost fears, he pulled her into a secure embrace and spoke quietly. "Give ear, Adonai, unto my prayer; and attend to the voice of my supplications. In the day of my trouble I will call upon thee: for thou wilt answer me. Elohim is my salvation; I will trust, and not be afraid. Adonai is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? Adonai is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear: though war should rise against me, in this will I be confident. Adonai hear thee in the day of trouble."*
His words, though soft, reverberated through the passage. The sharp crystals lining the walls caught his voice, creating a melody both beautiful and strong.
As the final notes of it faded, Starsha stepped back, her terror seeping away as clarity returned. "This creature must have been here for centuries. The historical records make no mention of it, so there is little more we can learn from the library. We must go to a source older than the kings and queens of Iscandar." She took a steadying breath. "We must go to the Heart of Iscandar—to Levavets—the world-tree. Will you come with me?"
Admiral Talan nodded. "We can take the freighter I arrived in."
"We must not take a ship that large inland. It will disturb the tree. I'll call two of the horses that used to stable at the palace. They will take us there and bring us home again. If the creature caged here is associated with The Living and Arbah's descent into madness, it's vital we uncover everything we can concerning it." Ignoring her aching legs and feet, Starsha climbed the winding path, headed for the surface and the promise of new answers.
Episode 36 Notes:
* To find out why Starsha is unable to leave Iscandar, see The Right of Kings, Chapter 55: The Envoy
* Scripture references in the closing prayer include: Psalm 86:6-7, Isaiah 12:2a, Psalm 27:1&3, and Psalm 20:1a
The title for this chapter is taken from Isaiah 9:4&5
For thou hast broken the yoke of his burden, and the staff of his shoulder, the rod of his oppressor, as in the day of Midian.
For every battle of the warrior is with confused noise, and garments rolled in blood; but this shall be with burning and fuel of fire.