Sep 23, 2022
Off an Alien Coast.
This is AI generated by Midjourney.
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Off an Alien Coast.
This is AI generated by Midjourney.
20 Minutes: Espace : Cri d'alarme des astronomes face à l'explosion du nombre des satellites en orbite
20 Minutes: Espace : Cri d'alarme des astronomes face à l'explosion du nombre des satellites en orbite.
Depuis 2019, le nombre de satellites a plus que doublé dans l'espace
Avec tous ces satellites artificiels en orbite autour de la terre, on va finir par se faire repérer par des mondes extra-planetaires !
De la discrétion, de la discrétion...
Oui chef !
Causes toujours, tu m'intéresses.
“Extraplanetary Vortex” - Acrylic paint on canvas
POV: Riche’e
“Arlyxe, jom, you live?”
I felt a small, sharp poke on my cheek. I swatted, missing whatever hand it belonged to as my knuckles sailed into the ground, into concrete. I winced as the injured muscles in my upper arm involuntarily tensed.
All at once, I registered the familiar and wholly unexpected sensations around me: Gravity was too light. My hand flew too hard and I sat up too fast. I felt dizzy before I realized it. The air was damp and cool, wafts of warm air blowing by at seeming random. The air smelled faintly of oil and electrically burned particulates. And there was the unmistakable, distant, terrible din of an ever active city—the sounds of ships, vehicles, people, and machines.
I didn't understand how, but I was on Plott.
"Jom, you drink or something? Only stupid sleep street."
And of course, I had the misfortune of waking up next to a kjanxe speaking B-Copan.
Holding my head, I looked at the kid, waiting for my vision to stabilize. He couldn’t have been more than a denlol over a loliel. He scooted back, hugging his knees as he sat crouched. His eyes were brown-flecked-blue, like a puppy’s, and practically glowed. Maybe he was even younger than a loliel.
“Where am I?”
“Alley.”
I scoffed. “Thanks.”
He shrugged.
“What, you don’t know where you are?”
“I here. I see you, wake you. We here alley.” B-Copan may be the worst dialect in the galaxy, but at least it’s concise.
I stood carefully and slowly, holding both my arm and head, trying to avoid another wave of dizziness. I failed. “Please, do me a favor and tell me we are on Mansheon.”
The boy tilted his head, sitting straight. He seemed to be weighing my words. Then he grinned, “We are on Mansheon.”
I should’ve expected that from a puppy.
“Plott?”
He nodded, still grinning. “You drink, huh?”
“No, I am not drunk,” I snapped. “Get lost!”
Suddenly, he was glaring. He went from dog to cat. I watched as his pupils constricted right down to slits when he stood. His long ears lowered just a bit and his tail thumped against the trash bins behind him. He stepped forward.
“Now you wait a minute.” Backing up, I was afraid that he’d attack the moment I turned around. He may have been tiny, but he was still a kjanxe.
“Be sorry.”
“I am sorry,” I nodded, “and I am going to be the one to go away.”
Taking the chance, I took my leave by rushing toward the street and casting my eyes skyward to gain my bearings. There was no sky—or, rather, no projection of sky—and that meant I was below the modern surface. The lack of anyone on the street meant I was on a street more than a couple levels down below. The farther into the old levels, the less life. That explained the kid. He was just some street rat that probably strayed away from his family group of squatters.
How in death did I get to Plott? I went over the day in my mind, attempting to cast aside the headache quickly joining a steadily growing list of soreness and aches. I was exercising with the group, running up and down those Eight-forsaken stairs. I took a blissful moment of rest with Jiaal before…
It was day seven. Micje, Kama, Panda, Jiaal, and I were on our third run up the stairs. We sat down. Micje, Kama, and Panda left Jiaal and me alone. Jiaal got it in her head that I should hear more about her Earth. Then…
I stopped walking to turn around, looking toward the alley I’d just left in an attempt to jog my memory before turning around again. I paced back and forth.
Surely there was… a reason…
Where was Jiaal? Where was anyone? Did I… go on an interplanetary bender?
No, of course not, but…
Oh, screw this. I could figure out the story later. Right now, all I needed to do was focus on getting back to Mansheon. At least it was only Plott. A planet hop wouldn’t be expensive to book at all.
I reached for my paper-sleeve to connect to the planet's network, book my transport, and put this, whatever this was, behind me.
Except the sleeve was gone. And the Balewez cuff was broken, smashed in such a way that suggested I fell on it during my blackout. Somehow, I felt I should have expected that. I really, really should have expected that.
Well, I was going to have to hike to the docks anyway. I'll just buy my ticket there.
With a sigh, I headed for the stairwell at the dilapidated side of a building. It vibrated, hummed, and banged from the life and activity stacked above. Halfway up, the dirty city smell was quickly covered over by a mix of scents so varied, I knew I was emerging in a good district. Knowing the vast majority of food available on Plott, everything about it would be insalubrious.
And yet, when I came upon a man huddled over himself with a bowl full of gooey bread and kimmen meat, my stomach got vocal.
Seemingly drawn by that growl, the man looked up. "There you are," he all but shouted, tossing his food over the railing. "It's about time you showed up!"
I leaned back, looking the man over. Even sitting, he was tall. He had long legs, long arms, thick muscles, a strong nose, and just slightly too large a head. I didn't recognize him at all. "Do I know you?"
"Yes, and no. It's complicated." He stood and descended the steps to meet me, grabbing my hand with an enthusiastic yet offbeat shake. He grabbed my hand, not my wrist. His strange accent was familiar, but I couldn't place from where.
"Complicated," I repeated. "Who are you, then?"
"Arim Ta'ash," he grinned, side-long and wide, "and I'm the hero of this story."
It always amazes and somewhat disturbs me how well Midjourney is at adapting various artists' styles to it's images. In this case it is extraplanetary cityscapes and landscapes in the style of Abby Williams Hill.
This is AI generated by Midjourney.
Part 18
Zega’s headquarters was more interesting on the inside than the front wall made it seem. On the outside, it seemed a property so massive that reaching a single corner seemed like a mythical journey. But from an aerial view, there were courtyards and towers and grids and I couldn’t begin to fathom everything that the property might’ve actually housed. Maybe Mansheon was Sa’cra’s Texas. Everything seemed bigger on Mansheon.
I sat on the stairs that led to a courtyard outside the housing tower. As I understood, two of the levels were like a dormitory for recruits, then most of the rest of it were tiny apartments for the full-fledged members that spent most of their time on the planet. I wondered just how many of these housing units were scattered across the galaxy, and if any members ever lived outside of them.
I was waiting on word from Director Rorn on where exactly I should start going or who I was supposed to be working with. And so, my day had become far too quiet.
I may have run headlong into this. And he was right. This was dumb. Besides my apparent brand new superpower, what did I have to offer people who knew the galaxy like the back of their hand and ran around it every day? Where did we even start to look for Eagle or Steele? And then how do we get them to stop their plans that we didn’t even understand? Did I… Did I make a mistake? The worst part was I knew—I knew I couldn't backpedal at this point, so the second-guessing was useless. But I couldn’t stop.
Mercifully, someone cut my spiraling short.
“You are Jiaal, are you not?”
Looking through the skinny, twisted stone balusters, a group of four—two humans and two qicuqop—stood in the center of the courtyard. Well, she had good eyes.
I stood, taking a few tentative steps down the stairs. “I am.”
The woman at the front of the group, presumably the one who called out, had an inquisitive expression—eyebrows up and pulled together—that fell into a smile. And I recognized her as soon as it happened. She was the woman laughing at the desk when we first arrived.
The second woman I recognized even faster, and my jaw dropped. It was the woman who took me to the District! A shit-eating grin spread across her face as our eyes locked.
I was frozen, trying to figure out any words, and none of them spoke. Suddenly, I was rushing down the stairs.
“You,” was all I could say. I pointed. “You?? You!!”
“Just as good with words, I see.” She straightened up, putting on a toyingly professional air.
“You are a Zega member, and I told you who I was, and you left me across the city?” I was stomping, my fists clenched. She could have helped me!
“I gave you plenty of money,” she shrugged.
“Laureth!” The other woman looked at her with a scolding tone, but the way she tensed made it look like she wanted to laugh as well.
Laureth rolled her eyes. “They never went through the recruiting process. I wanted to see if she could use her brain to do the bare minimum.”
“So all care for a scared person went out the window once she said she is a new girl?” I crossed my arms.
“I already explained my reason.”
“Well, it’s a—”
“Oh, for the sake of the Eight.” One of the qi’qop stepped forward, waving her hands. A mass of bangles jingled on her wrists. “Can we not have this discussion later? We have far more important things to discuss than a bad first impression.”
“It was a good one, until now,” I defended.
“Be that as it may, I am Miliya,” the first woman said, pointing an introductory finger at everyone. “You’ve met Laureth, and then there’s Ulnu and Zik.”
Ulnu, the bangled one, and Zik, much, much shorter than Ulnu, both nodded.
“It’s nice to meet you all.” Except you, I wanted to say to Laureth. “You all already know me so—”
At once, Ulnu and Miliya started walking away, Laureth and Zik hot on their heels. It took me half a second to realize I wasn’t being abandoned and was meant to follow. They walked with such purpose and mission that I had a hard time keeping up.
“Rorn gave us just the bare details, for you to tell us the rest,” Laureth said.
Zik’s big blue eyes narrowed at me in a chilling sideways glance. “He did say, however, that supposedly dymarul are involved?”
“That not just one, but two dymarul are involved?” Ulnu gave me a bigger sideways glance, emphasizing their skepticisms.
“Four, if I understand correctly,” I answered. “Why is that hard to believe?”
“Because the dymarul are dead,” she said.
“Or never existed,” Zik added. “Four? Absolutely not! The myths say they’re too rare.”
Pointedly shoving her hands in her pockets, Laureth tilted her head. “That would be an interesting explanation to you saying you were ‘thrown.’”
Miliya looked at Zik. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. They could be anyone if they do exist, that’s why they’re considered rare.” She looked at Ulnu. “And even if they are dead, that still doesn’t rule them out. They’re time travelers.”
“Then that would make them not dead,” I said.
“No, that would make them staples in time, and you’re the lucky lenexe they pinned to the wall.”
Wait, did she just say I was destined for this encounter? Like… Like destined destined?
“That can’t be it,” I shook my head. “Eagle said a future me pissed off Steele so he came back to ruin my life and the galaxy’s.”
“Wonderful!” Miliya threw her head back with a single laugh. “I can’t wait to find out how you do that.”
“Back to you giving us all the details,” Ulnu said. “From the beginning.”
And so I did, just like I had for Pilot and Rorn. As they lead me indoors and through endless hallways, I explained everything from falling in the stairs to being dropped off. I made it clear that I was going to continue being angry at Laureth, to which she rolled her eyes, and let out a finalizing sigh when my story was done.
Actually, I was just winded from having to walk so briskly and talk at the same time.
“Alryxe, let’s get one idea out of the way.” Miliya stopped us in the middle of a four-way corridor junction and looked around. A slow grin spread across her face. “I’ve always wanted to try calling out a dymarul.”
Zik scoffed, Ulnu impatiently shifted her weight, and Laureth laughed.
“You are not going to do that,” she said.
“Why not? All you need is a dymarul’s name, and now we have three.”
“What is calling out a dymarul?” I asked.
“According to legend, or mij, or whatever, if you know a dymarul’s name they’ll come when you say it.” Her grin widened. “And we now know three.”
“What are they, fairies?” My eyebrows lowered; my turn for skepticism. Zik made a guttural clicking sound, ears going flapping a few times before they went flat against his head. If my time working with Liqeor taught me anything, that meant he was annoyed.
“You know it’s not going to work, right?” Laureth’s smile mirrored Miliya’s, but she was clearly more amused that this is where the conversation was going.
Miliya simply shrugged. She assumed a pin straight posture and delicately lifted her hands, as if getting ready to cast a spell. And then she said their names, slowly, as if saying them too fast would spook their owners. Steele Eakre-Ta’ash… Arim… Eagle Faxon…
And then there was silence.
Zik looked at Ulnu, looked at Laureth. Ulnu looked at Laureth, looked at Zik. Laureth looked at me, looked at Ulnu. They all looked at Miliya.
“Are you happy?” Zik asked after a long moment.
Miliya snapped, lips pulling to the side before another grin. “I knew it wasn’t gonna work, but how nice would that have been? It would’ve made everything so much easier.”
“Enough fooling around.” Zik clasped his hands behind his back.
It was then that I noticed just how long his nails were. When I say qicuqop hands are clawed, they’re usually manicured, trimmed to a thick, rounded point maybe half an inch beyond their fingers. Eddie told me about it. It was a thing. Something about being polite. Something about getting along with humans. Zik’s, however, were very long. And so… so very sharp.
As subtly as I could, I leaned over to get a look at Ulnu’s hands. Hers were short. She noticed me looking and waggled her fingers, smirking as I quietly moved between Laureth and Miliya.
Miliya sighed, mirroring Zik’s posture. “I may be having fun but I’m not fooling around. Do you have any better idea on how to find them? They’re mysterious time travelers.”
Zik tilted his head but looked down, ears flapping again.
“Where were… or are we going?” I asked after a moment of silence, looking around the empty hallway intersection.
“Small office that way,” Miliya nodded toward the left hallway. I thought we’d start walking again, but no one moved.
“What if they’re lying?” Ulnu and Laureth asked at the same time, pointing at each other when they realized they shared the thought.
“What?” I turned my head, looking around the group. “How?”
Laureth shrugged. “They’re not dymarul at all. Space travel is much easier to play with than time travel.”
“You are jumping to that very fast,” I said. “Why would Eagle lie about that? Why would he make up some story about me making some ugly time traveler mad? Why would I be a target?”
“Definitely questions to add—”
“And the most important question: Why aren’t we focusing on finding Riche’e first? We need to find Riche’e.”
Ulnu grunted. “I forgot about the other human.”
“To be truthful, I don’t think we need to worry about him,” Miliya said.
Arms akimbo, I faced her. “And why is that?”
“Because there is most likely only two options. One, your attackers have him because he’s a target. Maybe he was right alongside you when you angered the dymarul in the future. That means we find him when we find them.” She shrugged. “The other possibility is that he’s off Eight-know-where or when in Sa’cra. Location alone, that’s over a hundred planets to search. It’d be better to wait for him to resurface on his own. If he has his paper-sleeve, it’s only a matter of time.”
That’s assuming he didn’t get hurt in the event. I highly doubt he was also blessed with any superpowers lately.
Shaking my head, I looked out a nearby window. She had a point, I had to give her that, but I didn’t want to accept it. I didn’t want to just leave it to him. I wanted to find him before… Shit.
“No, we can’t just wait. I got the impression that Eagle doesn’t like him very much and I’m—”
A sprout of movement caught my eye. A head poked out from behind a tree in the courtyard, and then a waving hand. It was Eagle. When he saw I saw him, he pointed at himself, then pointed at me. The hell did that mean? He did it again.
I elbowed Laureth, looking for a door. “That is him!” The whole group turned and I could see the same idea going through their heads as it went through mine.
I started running first, shoving out the door in hopes I could reach him before he decided to disappear. The rest overtook me. I don’t know why I thought I could maybe be the fastest here.
It didn’t matter. In a flash of light, he disappeared as they rounded the tree, reappearing at my side.
“Sorry, all, I just want to talk to this one!” He grabbed my arm and lifted him gloved hand.
“No, no, wait, we should—” I tried pulling away, but of course the next flash of light swallowed up both.
Closing my eyes, I just waited for the journey to end. I just found out time travel exists and I already hate it. He let go of my arm a moment later and the warm Mansheon air became a thrumming like I felt on the transport ship to the planet. Opening one eye, then the other, we were standing together in a cluttered… cargo hold?
“Listen— Okay, I’m sorry—”
“Make up your mind!” I shouted and leaned forward, shoving him backward. “Am I allowed to be involved or not?!” With all the strength I could muster, I punched his shoulder. “I am tired of being kidnapped!”
“I’m not kidnapping you, I’m helping.”
“It does not look like that!” I pointed—in what direction, I know not where. “From my friends’ sides, it looks like you stole me. You are doing a bad job of making me believe you are a good guy!”
“I am a good guy. Just calm down and let me explain.”
I cocked my fist. He quickly backed away, raising his hands defensively.
“Take me back,” I said. “Explain there.”
“No.”
“Take! me! back!”
“If they’re involved, they will die. Laureth has enough problems of her own.”
“Oh, what, did you already explore that timeline?”
“Yes, actually, I did. And I like Laureth and Miliya, so let’s not.”
Fucking time travelers. Am I a side character?
Growling, I grabbed one of his hands, pulled it to the side, and punched him again.
Shoving me back with the exact same growl, he stomped toward the door of the hold. He shouted through it at the top of his lungs. “Ma! I brought her here! We’re telling her everything!”
“You what?!” came a muffled response, followed a steady banging of running feet on hollow metal flooring.
“You’ll be easier to deal with if you know everything!” He slapped a button to the side of the door just as Ma arrived. She looked at him, looked at me, then glared at him.
“You are just like your father,” she started before they launched into an argument.
I, on the other hand, couldn’t fathom what I was looking at. Sure I was hallucinating, I stepped forward, trying to get a better look at the woman. I turned around, heading for a corner.
“No. Nope. Absolutely not.” Shaking my head, I leaned against the wall, looking at her again. I quickly looked away. Nope. I kept saying that. Nope. No. Nnnnnnope. “Please tell me I’m dreaming. Or drugged. Or sick.” This is not happening. This cannot be happening.
Red hair, green eyes, five-and-three-quarters feet. Ma… Ma???? Ma looked a lot like me.
Part 17
Director Rorn’s office was mostly muted. It was a spacious rectangle full of gray, black, and matte metals lit by daylight let in through the floor to ceiling window-wall. But then there was the gigantic block of a machine sitting on his desk that looked inexplicably like a personal computer out of the 80s. And then there was the wall of nightmarish color that put that machine to shame. The colors popped and clashed in triangles and squiggles thrown haphazardly across the space.
As hard as I tried not to, it was all I could look at as I explained every single thing that just happened to me to both the director and Pilot. Rorn, a small and pudgy man with the scraggliest eyebrows I’d ever seen, sat in a chair across the desk from me and Pilot paced back and forth behind them. Neither of them even spared a glance at the horror on the wall.
Pilot told me I wasn’t missing just a night, I was missing for three days. And Riche’e had yet to reappear.
Rorn rested his chin on tented hands, staring gravely into the air as he listened to me, asking small questions here and there and nothing else.
“I cannot focus on training for Zega with this hanging over me,” I said after a few moments of silence where the men seemed to be stewing in everything I’d told them.
“And what could you possibly mean by that?” Pilot stopped pacing and turned to me, popping out against the violently red triangle behind him.
“I mean I have to help stop the four time travelers intent on messing up the galaxy.”
“I repeat my question.”
Rorn snorted, then smiled. “How could you, a rudkjurt that barely speaks Copan and doesn’t have any survival skills whatsoever, help stop dymarul?”
I took offense to that. I took great offense to the survival skills dismissal. I know how to run and running is the epitome of survival! “Because I am going to be part of this whether I want to be or not. Steele Eakre-Ta’ash came after me and Riche’e first.” And then Eagle implied he was going to search for Riche’e too, in a bad way.
Rorn looked to Pilot. “It may be a good opportunity to put Tawyn’s serum to further test. It seems to have been a success so far.”
“And there is that business too!” I stood and leaned on the desk with both hands, putting on my best serious and commanding face. Rorn raised an eyebrow. “Tawyn and Pilot were arguing about that back on Zi’inra. At least, that must have been what that was about.” I looked to Pilot.
“Have you had any injuries lately?” Pilot smiled in a way I couldn’t possibly decipher. Annoyance and-or amusement, maybe. “From your initial fall, perhaps?”
I straightened. “No, I wasn’t hurt at all.” I hadn’t seen for felt even a bruise.
Pilot turned to Rorn. “I know what you want, but what is your reasoning?”
“This is an unprecedented situation,” Rorn answered. “And most assuredly dangerous. If someone untrained and unprotected ran into this like she stupidly wants to—”
“Yo, I’m standing right here.”
“—then let’s see if it’ll actually keep her alive long enough for her determination to be useful.”
“What is Tawyn’s ‘serum?’” The image of the red-bandaged person back in the field tents came to my mind. And the fact everyone else seemed to have some sort of injury. I remembered the blood on my arm and my definitely broken ribs after I was thrown into the air after one of the explosions during the attack. My hand went to my side.
“Next time you see a knife, cut yourself with it,” Pilot said. “That’ll tell you.”
“Oh, for the sake of the Eight, stop being so dramatic, Pi.” Rorn waved a hand with a mighty roll of his eyes. “Turn off the showmanship.”
“What did Tawyn not want you to tell me, Pilot? Why did he want me to stay on Zi’inra?”
“Besides the fact your his daughter and we all just survived a traumatic event?”
“There was more to it.” My hand clenched. My bones should still be broken. “I didn’t start that war too, did I?”
“No, you did not,” Rorn answered. “The Cerras did. You’re just an unfortunate casualty. Or rather fortunate, I think. They took top secret information, and they took it out of context. Politically speaking, Zi’inra has always been a supporter of Creosian independence from Mother Cerra. They never became involved in the territory war, but they always spoke loudly about their opinion of it.”
“The Space Exploration Administration, on most days, is not a military organization or anything like it,” Pilot continued. “It’s in the name, we’re science. We exploration and research is who we are. But, condensing hundreds of loliel’s worth of history you would get in your training into a few words, Sa’cra came to trust us as a peacekeeping force when the situation calls for it.
“Our members frequently find themselves in dangerous situations and we had to come up with a solution for that. Zega went to your father to ask him to oversee the creation of a healing agent that would aid member survival and reduce healing times.” Then he waved a hand in my direction. “And the fact you’re standing there means he succeeded.”
Holy magic, Batman. I backed up a step, forcing myself to keep to the logical side of this conversation. “So you are saying the Cerras found out about that and jumped to the conclusion that you were siding against them?”
“Zega remains neutral and away from all small disputes until officially invited into the conversation, which never happened,” Rorn nodded. “Creos is our sister planet, they figured this only meant one thing. We were secretly giving support to Creos.”
“But why did they not attack Mansheon? Why did they go to Zi’inra?” Afterall, Mansheon and Creos are so close that their orbits periodically cause freak summers and winters against each other.
“That was their way of calling us out for our betrayal,” Pilot said. “They knew who we went to and they were stopping it at the source.”
“So they bombed Zennae.”
Rorn nodded. “They could’ve gone the quiet route with an assassination, but no, they had to bring civilians into this.”
“Or, you know, they could have not attacked at all!” I frowned.
“But they did,” Rorn shrugged, “and now we have this mess to clean up.”
I sat down, looking first out the window to the daylight, then to the patterned wall again.
“We’re thinking whatever Tawyn used on you is a little more effective than a healing agent.” Rorn pulled something out of a drawer, walked around the desk, and held it out to me. It was a small, ornate razor with a handle as colorful as the wall.
“What? No!” I leaned back as much as possible in the chair. I was not about to intentionally cut myself to confirm a suspicion!
“If you want to go on your little mission and for us to help you, you will do this.” He held it out again. “You will help us understand what Tawyn made for us.”
“Why do you not just ask him?”
“You’re here,” Pilot said, obviously closing a conversational door.
“If I don’t cut myself, you won’t go after the dymarul?”
“No, we will, but you will have no part in it.” Rorn leaned on the desk, still holding the razor. “You will be sent back to Zi’inra and no longer considered a Zega recruit.”
“Bit far, don’t you think?” Pilot casually stepped forward, speaking in a tone that suggested he was only mildly against Rorn’s ultimatum.
“Nope,” Rorn said. “The drive of any and all good members of Zega is curiosity, in all its forms, no matter the uncertainty. That’s why we needed the shu’serum in the first place. If she can’t even do this, what use is she to the program?”
That seemed irresponsible, and had to be an exaggeration. But still, I looked him in the eyes and breathed deep to build up my courage.
I grabbed the razor before I could talk myself back out and ripped it across the back of my hand.
“Sonofabitch!” Virtually throwing the blade away from me, I hugged the hand, making a fist and curling over it as tight as I could. It burned and stung and I could feel the blood beginning to seep into my shirt and pant leg.
Rorn leaned down. He pushed me back and took my hand, wiping the blood away with his, and stared at it. Pilot came around too, also staring at the cut I just gave myself. Helpless to do anything but wait, I looked at it too. Rorn wiped blood away a couple more times before pointing with a triumphant “Aha!”
And there, right before our eyes, the cut was healing. My jaw fell as it stitched together and we all stayed quiet over the minute it took to go away. If the blood wasn’t there, it would’ve looked like it never happened.
I reclaimed my hand and wiped and rubbed at it, unable to believe what I just saw, while the men turned to each other.
“It was faster that time,” Pilot said.
“It was just a cut, but if what you said was accurate…” Rorn trailed off, rubbing his chin.
My jaw remained in my lap as I kept wiping at my hand. “It’s gone! It healed! It’s gone!”
I looked around, looking for the razor. I had to see it happen again. I had to see it again!
Rorn and Pilot simply watched as I picked it up from our feet and dragged across my fist a few more times. Each cut healed faster than the last.
I survived my injuries on Zi’inra… because Tawyn made the greatest goddamn scientific breakthrough of all time, and he gave it to me. And it didn’t just work once, it worked again and again and again.
Part 14
The innkeeper (is that what it’s called here?) was a kjanxe who was more interested in a video screen than interacting with me. It looked like she was watching a race. And judging by the tiny paper she clutched in her hand, I assumed it was a race she had a bet on.
I leaned on the counter separating us, trying to look like I wasn’t using it to hold me up, and slid all the money the woman handed me to her. “I need a room. Just tonight.”
She looked at the money, looked at me, then grabbed it all, pressed a button on the far side of her desk, and pointed to a door across the lobby. “Time’s up at four-daylight.” She slapped her video screen and cursed as a race car spun out.
“What is that in galactic?”
I never really understood the different forms of time keeping, even though everyone I ever asked told me how simple the system was. There was the thirty jul galactic day, time which every planet kept, then there was the daylight-nightlight schedule unique to every planet that corresponded with sunrise and sunset. I guess I understood it in theory, I just could never reconcile the numbers. Even though I spent my entire life on Zi’inra.
“It’s—” Her ears twitched as she looked at a clock and counted on her fingers. Unlike the last kjanxe I saw, her ears were long and straight. Kind of like an elf. “Twenty-two galactic.”
I regretted asking her that in the first place. Cringing preemptively, I leaned toward her. Even if I knew how to convert the times, my day had been royally screwed over by my attackers. “How many juls is that from now?”
She went straight and the pupils in her gold-green eyes became slits as turned them on me. “Are you a kuma?” Her voice was decidedly more catlike and growly than it was a moment ago.
I backed away and pointed to my door. “Four-daylight, thank you.” I’ll just sleep and probably not wake up until she was angrily pounding on the door to leave. I could live with that.
Also, yes I am a kuma.
But when I entered my room, the last thing I wanted to do was sleep. The window was wide open for me to see the cacophony of the District outside. I fell into a chair right next to it and just looked out.
It was like a city in an old sci-fi movie. Dark and bright at the same time, crowded, dirty, loud, lively. It looked like the very definition of a city that never slept. And that made me wonder just what kind of things I could find out there. Was that kjanxe’s race taking place down here? Were there games? Shows? Food? Shopping? Lewd entertainment? Fortune tellers? A theme park? I was sure it was all of the above as I watched a series of hot pink glyphs dance in all different directions on the roof of the giant cavern.
Eventually, though, it couldn’t distract me from my problems at hand. Would I be able to get to the other side of Kellan in full gravity on my own? I knew we were close to it already in our conditioning, but alone?
And what did those men do with Riche’e?
What exactly did they do? They threw me through time and space? Was I really on Zi’inra for that minute? How could they do that? How were they able to do that?
And why? Why the hell would they do that to me? To us?
Was Riche’e okay?
The more I thought about it, the more anxious I became. Those men came out of nowhere, and I was starting to think that was truly literal. That man really did come from thin air and toss us into oblivion.
I looked at the street, at the people walking by, then looked around my room, half-worried I’d see one of the men in any spot. I never got a good look at the first one, beyond the fact he was tall. The second one, though, he was burly. He had thick eyebrows, beady gray eyes, and a square head. And I never wanted to see him again.
Was there a phone in this room? Or, phone-like device, rather?
There was something standing at an angle on a table near the bed that was obviously the exact thing I wanted. It was a clear screen connected to a cylinder base stand, an intricate circle design spinning idly in the center. Moving to the bed, I tapped the screen, and searched the symbols that popped up. If there was double-circles anywhere, I knew I would be able to press it and—aha!
I tapped the double-circles in the bottom left corner and prayed the next step would be just as easy.
Taking a deep breath, I watched the circles spin independently of each other and said in a clear voice: “Call Zega Headquarters.”
The screen dinged and the circles spun faster.
“Welcome to the Space Exploration Administration,” a man said in a telltale secretary voice. “How can I help you at this jul?” He smiled at the screen and I was taken aback. I hoped I would get anyone, but I wasn’t expecting an actual phone operator.
“I’m… I am looking for Pilot.”
This felt so stupid. There had to be a better way to do this, I just couldn’t think of anything.
“Instructor Pilot is unavailable at the Administration Headquarters at this jul. May I ask who is calling to convey a message when he becomes available?” The man’s eyes and smile were glossy and unchanging, and I realized this had to be a robot or AI. It was a business answering machine.
“Give this to any instructor that becomes available,” I said, hoping that was even possible. “My name is Jiaal Foxise and they may have noticed I disappeared from the building with the other new recruits… I am in something called the District. I don’t know the name of the hotel I am at, but I am sure you can trace this call back? I just want to let them know I am here. And if they can pick me up. Any Zega member that can help me...”
‘Mom, can you come get me from the mall now; I wanna go home.’
“I will convey your message to Director Rorn,” the man-machine said. “Goodnight.”
Director—? That was an important person who would definitely not be happy to hear that message. Hopefully the fact I was kidnapped for the second time in my life, and kidnapped by evil time travelers would help. I don’t know how it would help, but I hoped it would help.
The screen faded clear into that intricate spinning design again and I laid back. There was nothing I could do but wait now. I rolled toward the comm device and tapped until I had the double-circles listening to me again.
“How long until four-daylight?”
“Seven juls,” a pleasant voice chimed.
“Set an alarm for three-daylight, please.”
“Alarm set for three-daylight.”
I thought I should slide the shutters closed for privacy sake as I tried to go to sleep, but then I opened my eyes hearing that pleasant voice speaking to me.
“It is now three-daylight,” it said over and over again.
That was easy, I groggily thought, feeling like I was glued to the bed. Okay, so I wasn’t magically attuned to the gravity in the six juls I slept like I half hoped I would be. Why was this never a problem in tv shows?
The voice kept repeating the alarm and I looked out the window. It looked like daylight meant nothing down here. What was I expecting? It’s an underground city.
I slapped at the screen to shut up the alarm. It didn’t work until about the fifth slap.
Looking to the lit up display, I forgot for a moment that I wouldn’t see regular numbers I could understand flashing on the screen and groaned. Whenever I looked at numbers, my eyes glazed over faster than when I looked at letters. They were mostly circles and dots and my head hurt trying to keep them straight. I could understand single digit numbers. One was one dot, two was two vertically, three was a triangle of dots, four was a diamond of them, five was like two with a half-circle connecting them. I knew them individually up to ten. But when they’re written together, I couldn’t tell what was a dot, triangle, or diamond and I stopped trying to separate them before my eyes hurt.
Much was the same this morning. I closed my eyes and sighed. It’s three-daylight. I had one jul to figure out if I should hang around the hotel, call Zega again, or head off on my own.
There was a tap on the window and I jolted upright. Fighting through a back-and-forth wave of heaviness that told my head to lay right back down, I looked and saw a person. Because of course I fucking did, I never closed the curtain.
I stared. They tapped again and tried to wave me toward them. I threw a pillow. It didn’t even reach the chair, let alone the glass.
The person was hooded but it didn’t cover their face. No, the mask on the bottom half of it did. Their bright eyes rolled when the pillow flopped harmlessly on the floor. They tapped again and the way their head moved suggested they may have said something, but I didn’t hear it.
Instead of going toward the window, I rolled across the bed and left the room.
“Oh, by the Eight! She does know time!” The innkeeper sat up at the front desk and clasped her hands, looking sarcastically joyful.
“It was a rough night,” I said. She didn’t need to be mean about it.
I shuffled to the front doors and looked out a window, hoping to see the person from that angle. And I could. They stood some feet away from the building, idly turning in a circle.
They couldn’t be from Zega, could they? No, right? They wouldn’t be dressed all ominously in black with their face covered and knock on a freaking window to get my attention. Right? I mean, who knows how sci-fi organizations like this work in real life.
Still. No. I did not want to go out there by myself and risk it, whoever that person was. They had to be extra shady since they weren’t even trying to come in and talk to me.
I looked at the kjanxe. “There is another way to leave, yes?”
Her scruffy eyebrows knit together as she pointed at a hallway directly behind her. “End of there. What’s wrong?”
“Well, I don’t know, truly,” I looked out to the person again. They were still just standing there.
“Do you need someone run off?” She stood. “I love chasing people away.” She held up her hand like a claw, and I finally noticed just how sharp her nails were. Well, obviously. She’s a cat. Kitties have claws.
“I just want to know who they are,” I shook my head. “I really don’t need another person messing with my life right now.” What if they were with the time travelers? What if it was the one I didn’t see? I started toward the back hall. “No, I think I will just avoid them. I will go behind and hopefully they won’t see me.”
She watched me for a moment then went to the front window to look at my friend. Her hand was on the door handle when I turned and went out the back. I hope she wasn’t going to chase them off because my escape kind of relied on them staying right there until I was far enough away.
The back alley of the building was right up against the wall of the cavern. There was barely even a walkway laid out in the rocks, and I used the dripstones to help keep me steady as I went along. The next two buildings were much smaller than the hotel, but I decided to risk it after the second one and went toward the road. It looked like there was some park, or major foot traffic center not too far away. I could figure out the next step from there. It must be easier to stay away from the person there. It always works in the movies. Hide in plain sight.
Hugging the wall, I peeked around the corner to look for them, and found them backed against the front of the hotel with the kjanxe angrily poking at their chest. Their hands were raised, seemingly trying to placate her. I smiled. She was trying to distract them so they wouldn’t look for me.
Taking a deep breath, I looked across the road and gauged the distance, figuring out just how much strength I would have to muster before I let gravity get the better of me.
Before I let my nerves stop me from doing anything, I shook them out and started fast-walking.
“No, wait!”
I just managed to make it before I heard that shout. Looking back, the person was pointing, stepping around the kjanxe.
Crap! So much for her distraction. She latched on to them, though. I started hustling. Screw the park, I’d settle for anything that looked like a store. Or a restaurant. The road was getting busier and busier so that gave me hope.
This tiny place looked good; I reached for a door.
A loud zip ripped through the air and a person stepped into existence beside me in a flash of pinkish light. When I looked up, it was the masked person, eyebrows lowered. They are a—!
“Jiaal, stop. I—” It was a man.
“No!”
I turned around and ran. I just wanted to get away from him. But he didn’t let me. I barely took a step before he latched onto my arm.
“Ma— Jiaal, I want to help you.”
I hit his hand with a fist and, surprisingly, he let go. But he held it near, definitely ready to jump if I tried to run again. So I held up my fists, trying to look not as weak as I was, and backed up a step.
“Then why do you look like a bad guy?”
He pushed his hood back and pulled down the fabric masking his face. I half hoped I would recognize him but nope. He had brown hair, green eyes, and a chiseled jaw not unlike Riche’e’s but I didn’t know who he was.
“Why I’m here is complicated and I apologize.” He looked at his jacket, which was torn in multiple places. “And I need a new coat thanks to that zikuba.”
I couldn’t help my grin at the fact the kjanxe actually ripped his clothes. “That is what you get for being a creep outside windows.”
“Would you have preferred I entered your room? I know I am a stranger to you.”
“You could have waited for me in the main room.”
“Alryxe, that’s a good point,” he nodded with a sigh. “Look, I’m not supposed to be here and I don’t know how I should go about this. The people I break rules with usually know what’s—”
“Who are you? Why were you at my window?” I held my fists higher. “Are you one of the time travelers?”
“Let’s go somewhere and talk.” He pointed to the park. The brightly lit, bustling park.
I narrowed my eyes. “You go first.”
He huffed. “Jiaal—”
“No. If you want to go anywhere with me, I am following you. To a bench.”
He started walking, but kept looking back to make sure I actually was following him. I was. I wanted to see what he actually had to say for himself. But I also knew that he teleported to me just a minute before, so running was probably pointless at that moment.
And he did just what he was supposed to. He led me to a bench facing a small circular patch of grass surrounding a fountain that spit water in a rainbow of colors. He sat down and looked up at me, raising his eyebrows with more indignance than he had any right to have. He gestured to the spot next to him. I sat as far from him on the bench as I could.
“Who are you?” I was going to lead this conversation.
“Eagol Faxon.” He folded his hands, seeming to get the point. One of them, I noticed, sported a wired glove-like thing. I wondered if that was how he could do it.
“Eagle? Like the bird?”
“No—” He stopped, thought, then nodded. “Yes, actually, let’s go with that. Like the bird.”
“How do you know what bird I’m talking about?”
“That’s not important.”
I raised my fists again, and he laughed.
“I say yes because it sounds like my name,” he said. “So call me Eagle.”
“Okay, Eagle, who exactly are you?” I pointed at his hand. “And what is that?”
He held it up. “This is—” He bit his lip and looked around. He looked like he was waiting for someone to pop out for him at any second. He lowered his voice. “This is called a dymarul glove and it’s how I’m able to be here with you right now.”
“Why are you looking around like that?”
“Because the person I stole it from might show up. Or my mother, and she will be very angry I’m talking to you.” He pulled his hood back up and turned on the bench, facing me more fully but clearly trying to hide from the greater crowd of the park. He peeled off the glove and carefully tucked it into an inner pocket in the breast of his jacket.
“I don’t know which part to ask about first.” I leaned forward after a pause. “Did you steal it from a man? Mean face? Square head? Caterpillar eyebrows?”
He snorted a quick laugh but swallowed it, his face falling. “No, but he is why I stole it and I know he’s come after you already. His name is Steele Eakre-Ta’ash, his companion is named Arim.”
My heartbeat picked up its pace, even faster than it had from the energy I’d already spent. “Who is he?”
“He’s a dymarul deathbent on screwing up the galaxy just to spite—” He stopped, chomping down on his lips.
“Don’t you dare stop there!”
“He’s trying to ruin lives just because he can, and you’re right in the middle of his plans.”