“Feri’Andi?” Lihandii called her copilot to the cockpit as Valkyr 52 exited its last hype out for the Deep Space Navigation Training Program.
“What is it, Liha?” Feri’Andi floated nonchalantly into the darkened cockpit, her towel wrapped loosely around her. She had just finished her shower moments before the hype, and her long, dark blue and brown hair was still wet and spread into tight locks behind her as there was no gravity to pull it down. As she slowed, her hands on the backs of the seats, the hair continued to float forward, past her face. “That was it, right? Now we just sit around and take readings for a few cycles, don’t we? Or are you already getting stir-crazy?”
Lihandii gave Feri’Andi a scolding pinch on the top of her hand for that comment, earning a satisfying hiss and recoil. “Look at that, Feri.” She pointed to one of her screens and looked back at her copilot, who leaned forward, squinting to keep the water out of her eyes. “What do you think we should do?”
Feri’Andi raised an eyebrow at the content of the display, frowning slightly in thought. She plopped herself into her seat, removing the towel and using it to wrap up her hair. She crossed her legs and started tapping her fingers against her knee. Finally, she said, “Well, obviously, we need to investigate it. Someone left that on purpose. Look, see?” She pointed to part of the screen. “The coordinates are changing. It’s in gravitational synch with something. What sort of readings do we have within the region it’s encircling?”
Lihandii swept through her controls with a conditioned precision. In response, the screens switched rapidly before them. After a few seconds, she stopped entering parameters, and they began inspecting the screens. “It looks like a standard stellar system. No, wait. Look.” She gestured toward one of the screens. It’s got a massive rime cloud almost in the interstellar region. Let me see if I can adjust the scans and eliminate the noise.”
“I’ll take care of that.” Feri’Andi deftly worked with her own control array, and a couple of seconds later, she leaned back, quite proud of herself. “I wrote a macro to take care of hydrous interference last month when we were passing that brown star.”
Lihandii gave an appreciating nod, looking back to the screens. “Just as I thought. It’s got at least three iron planetoids; they look like they could be pretty close to the Morridii range. We should probably get a closer look. Can you set up the hype and then get some clothes on? It’s my turn for a shower.” Feri’Andi nodded, and Lihandii unfastened herself from the seat, floating aft toward the showers. “We should both be in the cockpit for when we get out of the hype, so wait until I get back to actually hype out, ok?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Feri’Andi said. “Just hurry up with the shower, Liha. I’m not going to wait forever.” She then set about making the necessary calculations to hype just outside the rime cloud. They’d have to fly through manually, since hyping a long distance into another stellar system would play tricks on the Timids hype computer. It would be fine from a shorter distance, but a 50 light-cycle jump probably shouldn’t end inside a region where one can’t be certain scans are correct. Plus, planetoids move a lot in that time span, so Feri’Andi would have to take heed of more than just the interstellar drift of the system as a whole, which she could do if she were hyping just outside the system.
After setting the parameters, Feri’Andi left the computer to its own devices and headed back to her closet, where all her clothes were. She’d have to put her actual uniform on for this. She opened up the closet and tossed her towel into the washer next to it, where her previous outfit and Lihandii’s clothes were already waiting to be cleaned. As she dressed, the only sound was the low-density fluid pump that drained the shower and even dried off the user a bit. She had almost finished clipping together the outermost layer when Lihandii stepped out of the shower.
“Took you long enough,” Feri’Andi said as she finished the last of the clips. Lihandii gave her the usual look that said she was being immature and finished drying her shorter blue and blonde hair before tossing the towel into the washer and opening up her own closet.
“This is coming from the one who takes forever to get her uniform on,” Lihandii commented as she finished zipping up the Valkyrie undergarment. The zipper was a flexible plastic and had fabric overlapping under it to prevent snagging, but Feri’Andi had a habit of catching the zipper on the cloth, so it took her quite a bit longer than it should have to put on the undergarment.
“Hey,” Feri’Andi exclaimed. “That zipper has something against me.” At this, Lihandii rolled her eyes, and Feri’Andi snickered. While Lihandii finished putting on the uniform, Feri’Andi headed back to the cockpit. “I’m ready to go whenever you are.” She secured the uniform to the bolts in the seat for security during the maneuvers she was hoping to try out after this jump.
Several moments later, Lihandii showed up in the cockpit and closed the door behind her. “You left your closet open, you know,” she commented as she secured her own suit to her seat.
“Thanks,” Feri’An
di said, nonchalant as usual. “Did you remember to set the washer,” she asked as the two started performing the pre-hype checks and making sure the Timids would be ready for high-speed maneuvering as soon as they exited the hype.
“Of course I did,” Lihandii replied. “You never do. Are we all set? My screens show that we’re good to go.” She activated her helmet and waited for a reply on the wireless.
“We are good,” Feri’Andi finally sounded serious over the helmets’ wireless comm. “Hyping in three, two…”
“One,” Lihandii finished as they both grabbed their flight controls, and she activated the hype, resulting in the typical but ever-unpleasant imploding sensation. Her stomach churned slightly as they exploded out of the hype, but she was ready when the screens showed that they had hyped in a little too close to the rime cloud. In fact, they were already inside the rime cloud. How they had managed not to hype straight inside an ice chunk, she didn’t know, but she was too busy maneuvering through the field now to find out.
She gripped the controls tightly as they tore through the rime cloud, dodging ice chunks left and right, some the size of a small planetoid. When they made their way through the cloud, the Valkyries went ahead and opened the viewports to look at the system for themselves. What they saw took their breath away.
Before them, a system of eight planets encircled a yellow star. The inner four planets were all iron cores, separated from the outer four by a planetoid debris ring which almost made the star look like a giant planet itself this far out in the system. The outer four were all massive, gaseous planets, a common sight that they both had seen as shadows in scans but otherwise had never taken the time to look at. Now looking at them, one of which was very close, the Valkyries understood how beautiful they were.
Snapping out of it, Lihandii said as the helmets deactivated, “How do those outer three iron cores look? They all seem to be inside the Morridii range.”
Feri’Andi took a close look at some of her screens before shaking her head. “No, there’s just the one inside Morridiian parameters.” Lihandii sighed at this news. The chance of a system randomly generating life when only one planet was in the Morridii range was almost zero. “But,” Feri’Andi said, interrupting Lihandii’s line of thought, “I’m picking up all sorts of broadcast signals from the one that is. We’ve got life! Third planet out. It looks temperate. Should we check it out?”
The question didn’t need to be asked. Lihandii gave her usual look and plotted the hype to the planet, which was within a close enough range that the computer wasn’t even needed. “Let’s do it,” she said, activating the hype without even waiting for a countdown.
When the ship emerged from the hype, the first thing Lihandii noticed was the unusually large satellite orbiting the small, blue planet. The first thing Feri’Andi noticed, though, was the ocean. “What do you think it’s called?” Feri’Andi looked excitedly over at Lihandii as she asked.
Lihandii grinned in a mischievous way that rarely crossed her face in the cockpit. She set the ship on course for atmospheric entry and looked back at Feri’Andi. “Let’s go find out.”
Category Archives: Finding Earth
Jumping
The roar of a fully wound TMDS driver resounded through the passageways of the TAS Dauntless. Even in the main airlock, where forty Dragon Riders were prepping for a training exercise, the noise was loud enough to necessitate the disabling of helmet mics, isolating the forty men and women from the brunt of the sound. Even so, the rumbling throughout the ship caused their suits to carry the sound enough to make the orders they were receiving difficult to hear.
“Now remember,” the training operation’s leader said over the wireless helmet comms, “once we hype through, we will have exactly twelve centidays for the drivers to unwind and another eight for the navigators to get the next hype programmed and the drivers wound back up. If you’re still between ships when that time comes, you will be left behind, so you’ll have to signal the courier ship before it hypes away in order to… you know, not die.” Everyone laughed, and smiles made their way around the airlock.
“No, but really,” he continued. If you don’t make it, just signal the courier, and it’ll pick you up. When it gets back to the last waystation, switch over to the outbound courier, and they’ll bring you back to us. You’ll also be put on rations and extra training for a few days, but you’re not going to die, so don’t freak out. Just remain calm and do your job. I don’t want any laggers this time. You’ve all got this. Everybody ready?” A round of agreements went around, and thumbs and pinkies were extended to give the ok.
“Good. We’re good to go in three, two, one–” The claxons sounded, and the lights went red as dozens of ships hyped in unison. Immediately after that all too familiar implosive-explosive sensation associated with a successful hype, the airlock doors flung open, and the Dragon Riders ran out into the vacuum. Moments later, they were jumping, one by one, into the void. One failed to release his magnetic locks before the final kick, causing him to move much more slowly than the rest. He would be left behind.
At the forefront of the group was the newest up-and-comer, Grie Khuda’Mundi. Though he had not been the first to jump, his had been the best timed in conjunction with the magnetic locks, giving him enough speed to quickly maneuver to the front. Once there, there was nothing to look at but the tiny ships in the distance and the vastness of space. And then, the ships were gone.
The ships weren’t really gone, Grie reminded himself. The visible radiation emitted by the ships when they exited the hype had just stopped. Since the ships weren’t lit, the only way to know they were there was by observing the empty spaces among the stars. That was why these jumps took place immediately after hypes, after all. If they were performed at any other time, it would be too difficult to aim, and the jumps would be exponentially more dangerous.
Nonetheless, the disappearance of the ships did signal that the first three centidays had passed. By now, the crews of each ship were disabling their sound reducers. Grie was reminded of his days working engineering on the Dragon King. It had only been eighty days since he had become a Dragon Rider, but it felt like an eternity. The training was rigorous all day, every day, and the meals were quick. The only time he had to rest was the 25-centiday period allotted every other day for sleep. Just thinking about it made him tired. The Armada hyped every twenty centidays, three times a day. At that rate, they were able to cover about ten light-cycles a day.
Grie spun around to look at the other Dragon Riders. The newest, a young Thoren woman named Brilje, seemed rather tense at the fact that she had absolutely no sensation of movement. It was common to be unnerved by this the first few jumps between ships, but it was something that Dragon Riders just had to get used to. On Grie’s first jump, he had accidentally jumped to the wrong ship and travelled twice the expected distance. Luckily, it had been the last hype of the day, so he hadn’t been left behind, but it had been incredibly embarrassing to have to take a shuttle to the proper ship.
“Are you alright, Brilje? You look like you might be having trouble.” Grie had been thoughtful enough to mention this on a private channel, and even as he started to talk, he could see her relaxing. If you didn’t relax, you were more likely to go crazy in the dark, so it was one of the first things they all learned.
“Yeah, thanks,” she replied. “I just freaked out for a milliday. I had actually thought the ships hyped without us.” She tried to laugh it off, but it was a real concern. The main purpose of this exercise was to build that ability to relax in situations like this, so it wouldn’t be the craziest thing in the world if the Armada jumped without them just to see how they reacted. The man who had jumped too slowly was about to find out just how terrifying it really was to see the Armada hype away.
“You know, if you pull up your HUD, there are some games to keep your mind off the jump.” Grie knew they weren’t supposed to tell anyone the games were there, but they had been designed for just such occasions, so he figured it a pity that they were so hush-hush.
He didn’t play the games anymore, himself, but that was more due to the fact that he loved the stars on this side of the Bifrost. Even from one waystation to another, the stars were always different. Every once in a while, the Armada would even hype a little too close to a stellar system, leavin
g planets visible in the dark. “Thanks, Grie,” Brilje said. Soon, he could tell she was playing, because her limbs totally relaxed.
After a great deal of floating, one of the tiny ships in the distance became a very large ship. By the time the Dragon Riders all started turning to land on their magnetic locks, the ship was taking up their entire view, darkening the whole sky. Grie spun his weight around and stuck out his feet, which thudded into the side of the ship. As soon as they had, he engaged the magnetic locks, and he was secured. Looking up, he saw the others coming in for their landings, and he helped those who needed it.
WIth his eyes still to the one remaining Dragon Rider passing through the void, he received a tap on the shoulder. It was time to go in. The rumbling of the drivers was becoming audible through the hull of the ship, which meant there were only a couple more centidays before the next hype. Grie ran to the airlock with the rest, and the doors closed. Immediately, the lights came on, and air started rushing into the room.
“Alright, everyone,” the operation leader said. “That was good. We lost one, but he’ll be fine. Now, everybody hydrate and pressurize. You just did a lot more twisting and pushing than you probably realize since most of it was wasted motion, but you have tired yourselves out, so you all need to hook into a hydrater and grab a drink before the next op. You all have one centiday to take a break, then we do this again.” Everyone groaned jokingly and backed into one of the ports in the bulkhead for hooking up the suits. This was going to be a long day.
Traitor
“Grie, you’ve got an incoming wireless connection from Osgord,” one of Grie’s friends from engineering said as he poked his head into the rec room. “You should probably take it. It’s your father.”
The Armada was just about to send its fleet through the Bifrost on the way to Earth. Transmissions past this point would be impossible. All correspondence would be relayed by courier ships past this point. Grie stood and walked to the wireless room for his last conversation with family before the hype into the Bifrost, which would be taking place in a few millidays. He stepped into a booth marked, “INCOMING: Recipient Grie Khuda’Mundi, Origin: Osgord Transmission Satellite 5.”
“Hi, Dad. We’re about to head through. Is there something wrong?” Grie was concerned. His grandmother had been in the healing station for radiation poisoning for the past few weeks. Her death was due any day now. “Is it grandmother?”
“No,” the tinnily relayed voice of Grie’s father said over the wireless. “Though she’s certainly not getting any better. It’s about our discussion right before you left.”
“Ah,” Grie exclaimed lightly. “Well, that’s sensible. It is a rather sensitive matter. Is this transmission secure enough to discuss it?” As he asked, he enabled the signal encryption protocols and place his cypher key into the comm unit as he sealed the sound blockers in the booth.
“It’s going to have to be, Grie. We don’t exactly have the luxury of the time necessary to set up something more secure. I’ve done what I can from this side.” Grie’s father sounded distressed.
“Same here, Dad. Encryption protocols active in three… two… one.” Grie turned the cypher key, and there was a series of clicks audible, indicating that his father had just done the same. “Is there something you need to tell me, Dad?”
“Yes. Your grandfather says he wants you to know that the Valkyries have been monitoring this planet, Earth, for a very long time. If you can get in touch with Veriar Khuda’Treer, the Blue should find its own way to contact you.”
“Wait, the Blue is going to contact me?” The Blue only contacted a select few of the Ginnung. It didn’t make Grie any more comfortable knowing that Veriar was under the Blue’s surveillance. Veriar probably didn’t even know. He sure wasn’t Ginnung.
“There’s no other way. Whoever the Blue is, he’s not sharing information with anyone but you. I don’t know why. Whatever’s going on, it’s way above me. Your grandfather knows, I’m sure, but he’s a bit preoccupied with your grandmother right now.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Thanks, Dad.”
“And Grie?” Grie’s father sounded nervous.
“What’s up, Dad?”
“Be very careful, son. I know how much of a risk this is for you. Don’t get yourself killed, alright?”
“I’ll do what I can, Dad. I guess I probably won’t talk to you again for a long time, so be safe, Dad. Take care of Mom.” Grie smiled slightly, and he just knew his father could see it, even if there was no way he could. At that moment, a claxon sounded throughout the ship, and the signal was cut as the TAS Dragon King hyped through the Bifrost.
“Wait, you’ve been helping us?” Mickey dropped his cigarette from between his lips. “But you’re a flipping Dragon Rider! There’s no one closer to the Sheii’Cronell than the Dragon Riders.”
Grie turned to Larry Denton, who had removed his helmet. “You really don’t tell your team anything extra, do you, Denton?” Grie made a face expressing dissatisfaction and turned back to Mickey. “Look, Mister Shore. I am perfectly capable of moving you out of my way, but I think it would be preferable if you would just move.”
Mickey looked exasperatedly to Larry, who nodded, his face grave. He didn’t look scared, though, which surprised Mickey. Now that he looked around, Angus and Summer didn’t look particularly frightened, either. He had no idea what was going on, but this situation clearly wasn’t what it had seemed to be at the beginning. He slowly walked toward the rest of the team and watched the fiasco unfold.
Grie reached down, violently grabbing the Muffin Man by the neck and slamming him against the wall. He then proceeded to remove the Muffin Man’s helmet, revealing Baker’s haunted face. “I present to you the traitor of the Earther Resistance, Wil Baker. This man has been rigging operations, intentionally harming and killing civilians who’ve expressed total compliance with the Monarchy.” He squeezed Baker’s neck more tightly, loosening his grip only when Baker looked like he was about to pass out.
“You can’t kill him, though. The Muffin Man is a figurehead in the–” Larry started off calmly before being cut off.
“The Muffin Man hasn’t shown his face to another living person since I arranged his official death three years ago. Even the few people who know who he really is haven’t actually seen his face or heard his real voice. I may not be able to kill the Muffin Man, but I can sure as the sky kill a dead man.” Grie snarled at Baker as he spoke, as if he were a caged animal waiting to attack his captor as soon as the cage opened.
“Yeah? And who’s going to be the new Muffin Man, huh? And why does he have to have such a stupid sounding codename?!” Larry had wanted to mention that last bit ever since he had joined up with the Resistance. As for his first question, the way his team looked at him made that answer clear. He frowned. Being the Lieutenant was hard enough.
“Well, the codename’s probably because his real name is Baker,” Summer chipped in. “Anyway, Grie, are you going to kill him or should we? I just figure you already got to kill the guy once, and I can’t imagine anyone in this room is a whole lot less inclined to do the same right now.” She realized after saying this that she had said Grie’s name, earning her a harsh look from both Larry and Angus.
“How’d you know his name, Summer?” Mickey asked, exchanging a suspicious look with the Texan, Colt Tyson, who repeated the inquiry.
Summer quickly did something Larry and Angus could never have done. She cited the news. “Grie Khuda’Mundi is the only Osgordian Dragon Rider in the Armada. There was a thing on the news about him a few weeks ago, when they did the special on the Dragon Riders. His picture was on it and everything. Do you guys seriously not remember this?”
Larry and Angus exchanged a look of amazement. They weren’t sure how, but she had just turned the question back on them. “Anyway,” Larry said, “we should probably figure out what to do with Baker here.” He stepped up to Grie. “I’m sorry things turned out the way they did, but you should probably leave before anyone else finds out you’re here. If anyone caught wind of the fact that a Dragon Rider spared even one person, ever, let alone five, that Dragon Rider’s allegiances would probably be publicly questioned.”
Grie nodded, put his helmet back on, and grabbed his knife from the doorframe, putting it back into its sheath on his right thigh. He walked out with silent footsteps. Five seconds after he had stepped outside, he was gone.
“Now,” Larry said, drawing his own knife, “why don’t you guys meet me outside in a few minutes? I’d like a few minutes alone with this idiot.” The team walked out and closed the door. As soon as they had, Baker began to struggle, trying to fight Larry, who used some of the skills he had learned from Terira to temporarily paralyze him.
As he began the slow work in which he was about to take no joy, Larry said, “Would you like to know how I really got my Kohstr deck, Mister Baker?”
Grie’s Letter
My Dearest Priha’Di,
It’s been two whole cycles since I saw you last. I still remember what you said the day I left. To be honest, it’s part of what’s gotten me through this journey. Even with the Timids, we can only safely travel so far every day with a ship this large and highly manned, but today marks an amazing point in our journey. During the third hype today, we officially crossed the halfway point between the Bifrost and this new planet, Earth. I met with the Sheii’Cronell who’s taking us there about a week ago, and I must tell you, he’s nothing like the stories!
I had been going to the forward galley to talk to Veriar. You remember Veriar, I’m sure. I was one of his attendants at his wedding three cycles ago. It’s actually his third cycle-mark tomorrow, and I thought it would be fun to get together. So I was on my way to see him to make plans, and the ship encountered a planetoid cloud, so we started performing some of the flashier maneuvers these massive girls can do, and one of the pulse-cars beside me came loose of its fasteners and almost crushed me. I was terrified, Priha’Di. I must be honest with you.
Anyway, there I am, standing certain of my death, and this Sheii’Cronell just appears between me and the pulse-car in a blur and just catches it like it was a fielded playball. I thanked him, and he actually looked at me as if to say it was no bother! I had always heard that Sheii’Cronell’s don’t look a man in the eye unless he either greatly respects him as a warrior or wants to kill him, but there was something about his eyes that was almost gentle. It was a sad softness, too, like he had once experienced a great loss.
So he looks at me and says, “Are you alright?” And, of course, I was so blown away that he would even talk to me that I just blithered about the words trying to leave my mouth. And do you know what he did next, Priha’Di? He actually escorted me to the forward galley and pulled aside Veriar for me. Then he took us to his personal wardroom, where we had the most delicious meats and vegetables that he claimed actually came from the world we’re heading to! I really hope the people there are willing to join the Monarchy. It would be wonderful to eat such foods regularly.
I only wish you could have tasted the food! There was one fruit in particular called a watermelon… Oh, Priha’Di, it was so sweet, and the juices literally just flowed every time I took a bite from my slice. And did I mention that they’re easily twice as big as a head? For a small one? And speaking of small ones, there was this root called a potato. Apparently, the people of Earth actually pull it out of the dirt, wash it off, and use it to make all sorts of side dishes. Who would ever think to eat the root of a plant? I mean, yes, we use some roots to produce chemicals for medicines, but that’s different from just eating something that spent its whole life covered in dirt. Anyway, we had what he called mashed potatoes, where you crush the potato into a paste and mix in a small amount of churned cream to give it some color and add to the flavor. He even said that these are simple dishes made quite often on parts of Earth. Can you imagine?
While we were eating, the Sheii’Cronell asked if I had someone dear to me, so of course I brought you up. How could I not? You’re such an important part of my life, even if we are separated by such a distance now. And the Bifrost. Apparently, there’s a chance that the time that passes here does so at such a different rate from over there that a milliday on one side could be cycles on the other. Still, I cannot help but pray to the Great One that I may see you again one day soon.
After the dinner, I got to talk to the Sheii’Cronell about my job here. I often regret not going to the Academy, but he said I should just apply for the Dragon Riders since there’s no rank in the Dragon Riders, and he says there aren’t enough Riders with my particular skill set. I wonder if he had that in mind all along when he saved my life… So I’m going to apply and just see what happens.
Oh, and there’s something else about this Sheii’Cronell. I saw his eyes shine red just like the stories when he had just caught the pulse-car, but they’re usually just a light reddish-brown. I’ve never heard of someone changing their eye color like he did. Something about him just makes me think he’s not the same kind of demon the Sheii’Cronells have always been. There’s just something undeniably good in him.
But enough about that. In your last letter, you said you’d gotten into a fight with my sister. What happened? I know she acts tough, but don’t let the green hair fool you. She’s pretty sensitive about some things, so please don’t be too hard on her. She’s doing us a huge favor by helping you watch after little Gildr. And make sure you’re taking care of yourself, too! You can worry so much sometimes, I can’t help but think you might forget occasionally that you need rest, too.
I’ve heard that once we get to Earth and work out arrangements with the locals, we’re going to try to build a base over its southernmost pole. Wouldn’t that be great? Then, you’d be able to move there with me. I have a pretty good feeling I’ll get that position as a Dragon Rider, and they get excellent benefits. You could bring Gildr, and we could keep our little family close. I hope things go smoothly on Earth. Halfway there…
I miss you, Priha’Di. No matter what else is going on around me, all I can think about is you and Gildr. We’ll be together again. I promise it. Stay strong. Hopefully, the next time you see me, we’ll be able to enjoy an entire bucket of potatoes,
and I’ll cook them all sorts of different ways for you and Gildr.
With the greatest love,
Grie
Valkyr 52
“–tention required. Repeat: Unidentified craft detected. Valkyrie attention required.” A tinny voice echoes through your quarters. You open your eyes to a red glow. You rapidly extricate yourself from the harness holding you to your bunk and make your way to the cockpit.
“Display unidentified craft.” Your voice cracks. Rapid removal from hype stasis is not unlike awaking from a coma. Despite full functionality, none of your organ systems have been used in quite some time, and they behave as such. This is why you hate distance hyping. No matter how many times you do it, there’s always the chance that the automated systems will encounter a problem they haven’t been programmed to handle. As the primary pilot, you are the only person in the vessel to be awakened. The display lights up in a gentle, dim red that is not difficult to view after your eyes have been closed for so long. A series of numbers appear, denoting the edge coordinates of the craft. It’s large. No, it isn’t large. It’s huge, the size of a small city.
“Enable visual approximation of unidentified craft.” The computer obeys, rendering a rough, three-dimensional image of a small asteroid that has very odd features that seem artificial. The strangest part is the asteroid’s proximity to the Bifrost. It seems to be impossibly close to the Bifrost’s event horizon, but you can’t figure out what’s keeping it there. “Enable full Valkyrie control of Timids.” You speak almost ethereally, driven by pure amazement at this point.
“TMDS controls are now released of all automated functions. Valkyrie has full control.” You miss the gentler voice that had been utilized by the computerized systems in Valkyr 51, but only Valkyr 52 has been properly fitted with the same rapid response controls included in the Armada’s latest 52-F Dragon. But unlike the Dragons, which are simply equipped with pre-programmed, short-distance hype vectors, the Valkyr 52 had manual controls. At this moment, you are simply grateful for that particular feature.
You flinch slightly as the pilot seat engages its contacts with your flight suit. The cockpit is sealed off and filled with liquid as your helmet engages its breathers. When all air in the cockpit has been replaced with the liquid, the systems begin to pressurize to approximately 12 standard atmospheric pressure units, and your breathers force highly oxygenated air into your lungs at an equalizing pressure to prevent your chest from being crushed. Your own slowly extracted plasma is injected back into your bloodstream to increase your blood pressure in order to prevent your blood vessels’ collapse. Your eyes shine brightly, filling your helmet with a cool green as your heart’s muscles are strengthened to prevent heart failure. You grasp the TMDS controls and engage fully manual hyping for the first time in Thorlinthian history.
Were it not for the fact that your entire respiratory system is currently fully regulated, you would surely gasp or skip a heartbeat. Instead of simply feeling that familiar exploding sensation immediately following the implosion of a hype, you now look into a form of space you could never have imagined before this moment. Remembering your objective, you attempt to move toward the strange asteroid. Despite a crushing sensation against your body, however, all visuals seem to indicate that you have not moved. You look for the asteroid and are surprised to find it only an arm’s distance from your left side. Yet that isn’t possible. Your position hasn’t changed.
Resigning yourself to the fact that the manual controls seem not to work, you disengage the hype and feel yourself explode, the sensation that indicates the end of a hype. Your proximity alarms light up, and you see that your position has in fact moved to nearly the exact position of the asteroid. Gripping the controls even more tightly, you maneuver the Valkyr away from what is from this distance obviously a space station. Panicking, you realize the stealth systems are not engaged. Looking about, you see no external signs that the station has reacted to your presence, but that means nothing in space, where there is no need to speak quietly. For all you know, alarms are sounding throughout the station. Quickly, you activate the stealth systems one by one, starting with the gaseous metamaterial shielding, now spread about the skin of the Valkyr and held in from the expanse of space by a cool plasma field only an atom thick. By the time you finish, your Valkyr should be hidden from any sensors.
Nonetheless, you feel uneasy as you approach what appears to be the main docking area of the station. It appears to be open, but looking more closely, you can see that there is a plasma shield. If you tried to fly into the dock like that, you’d probably just bounce off the shield, muddling all the sensors and stealth systems on the Valkyr. Instead, you set about analyzing the frequencies of electromagnetic containment used to hold the plasma shield in place. If you can neutralize the signals with the Valkyr’s own plasma fields’s containment signals, you should be able to pass through, but you would have to do it quickly. Despite this, the signals appear to be constantly changing, probably to prevent exactly such an attempt.
Operating on a hunch, you re-engage the manual hyping system. You find yourself again in that fascinating form of space that even now you cannot seem to properly describe. You adjust the controls to move the ship just inside the docking area. As you suspected, you appear to be at both points simultaneously. You turn the Valkyr to face yourself. Just as surely as the approach of death itself to all living things, you find yourself looking at yourself twice over, from each perspective. Beginning to feel a sensory overload, you disengage the hype once more and find yourself inside the dock, fully concealed.
You land the Valkyr and wait for the cockpit to depressurize, feeling anemic as the extra plasma is removed from your system. Finally, your suit’s restraints disengage from the seat, and you move to the
airlock, feeling impossibly light, even more so than when in deep space. This is probably simply due to the decreased pressure felt on your body, but it is a freeing sensation. You move out of the Valkyr, mapping your exact position in your suit’s location sensors. You quickly scan your surroundings, looking for a door. Just as you spot it, however, it opens. You leap to cover, hiding yourself and remotely utilizing the Valkyr’s sensors to look at the door again. No one’s there. You move inside. The door closes behind you and air rushes into the room you’ve just entered. There are garments of a strange-looking material settled neatly onto a bench. There are no obviously missing sets.
You open one of the compartments on the thigh of your flight suit, removing a small tube. You compress the tube and release it, acquiring an atmosphere sample as you move toward the next door, which has opened on its own just like the previous door. You place the tube in an opening on your wristplate. Your helmet’s display shows that the analysis has begun. You move down the passageway that awaits you past the airlock. The passageway is unusually tall and wide, unbefitting for a space station, which should waste as little space as possible, since more space meant more volume to be heated, which meant more energy consumption.
Suddenly, you notice that there are no handholds on the bulkhead. You gently float to a stop, slowly drifting to the center of the station’s mass. How is one supposed to maneuver about without handholds on such long passageways? Realizing quickly, you spin about and kick off at an angle toward the opposite end of the passageway. You repeat this many times, noticing a slight burning in the less conditioned part of your muscular structure. Clearly, you’ve suffered slight atrophy from your long journey back from Earth. Oh, how Jake would laugh at your current state of fatigue after all your boasting that giving birth wouldn’t have any long-term effects on your physique. Stupid husbands…
You finally make it to the end of the ridiculously long passageway. Looking back, it must have been at least 4 miles long. No, you think to yourself, it was 5 rosts. Slips like that would reveal the mission to be more than just deep space long hype conditioning. Earth mustn’t be discovered yet. Not yet…
The door is open, as you expected it would be. What you did not expect was the vast expanse of greenery that would await you on the other side. Looking up, you see that the room is lit by the Bifrost itself. It’s incredible.
Your helmet beeps quietly at you, and you see that the air is within Thorlinthian standards and devoid of any detectable unknown viruses or bacteria. You set your suit to refill its air supply and supply you direct with the fresh air. The smell of plants fill your nostrils, and you smile unconsciously. Grabbing the branch of a nearby tree-like plant, you begin to maneuver yourself toward the center of the complex, where you had noticed a small tower before entering the station. Again, the door is open. You begin to wonder if the station is an old Thorlinthian project that was abandoned and now trying to start itself back up or if it’s something significantly… older.
You move more easily down this passageway, now accustomed to the mode of travel necessary here. It must be designed this way to prevent its personnel from experiencing muscular deterioration during their time here. You make it to the next open door and are surprised to have arrived at what must be the center of the complex. While it contained yet another large greenroom, at the center was an upward sweeping of the ceiling into the tower. You work your way to the hatch leading to the tower main. It dilates open, and you work your way toward the top.
The passageway becomes narrower as you reach the end, the door opening slowly to a room basked in red light. Maybe someone was in stasis here. You enter the large room, its bulkheads covered in instrumentation and its floor riddled with strange writings on thin pads like paper.
Looking about, you see what must be the stasis area. As you had begun to suspect, the facility is much older than Thorlinthian travel outside the Bifrost. An incredibly tall man with red hair looks past you into the room, frozen in a strange form of stasis, seeming to be completely suspended. But that would kill a man. Concerned for this man who must be long dead, you press your hand against the edge of his stasis pod. It was oddly warm to the touch. No, it was warming itself. The stasis was disengaging.
Looking away from what was sure to be a gruesome sight, you cannot bring yourself to let go of the pod. What had compelled you to come here? What had caused you to disregard the safety of the two still in stasis on the Valkyr 52 and explore this facility? What had opened all those doors?! You begin to look about, searching for enemies, drawing your repeater from its holster under your armpit. Still, your hand will not release the pod behind you. Suddenly, something grasps your fingers.
“Is this a dream or a nightmare, young Thorlinthian?” A voice behind you as you turn in response to the grasping emanates throughout the room, seeming as if it had never been in stasis at all. But it was the man with the red hair who was speaking. Even as you moved the repeater to his face, it disassembled, its parts staying where they disengaged from the rest of the device. By the time your arm had spun toward him completely, a mere 5 milliseconds, the repeater had been reduced to nothing more then a handle.
Something you’ve never felt before begins to arise from within the deepest recesses of your heart. For the first time in your life, you are truly afraid. From stasis, this man had brought you here, and fresh out of it, he had achieved in a moment and without effort what took you a g
reat deal of concentration and five minutes, disassembling the repeater with only his mind. This was a being of a power much greater than yours. No, his power was on level with that of a Sheii’Cronell.
“Well, no, I don’t have quite that much power, Mrs. Kendrick.” That was impossible. How could he know of your marriage? Did he know of Earth? Was that English?! “Don’t panic. I know everything you know right now, Mrs. Kendrick. Please, have a seat.”
Looking around, you realize that not only was there a chair directly next to you that wasn’t there before, but the room had completely changed. Were you in the same room? Seeing no other choice, you sit.
“Mrs. Kendrick, my name is Jil’Hanr. I run this station, as I’m sure you suspected already.” You nod. “Well, we’ve taken a great deal of interest in the Thorlinthians. In fact, this station exists exactly because of the Thorlinthians. I understand you’re a descendant of the Qzicy family, yes?”
You nod, adding, “Qzcivden takes its name from our family.”
“Then you are aware of a document known to your family as the Traitor’s Journal?” You look at the man, Jil’Hanr, with curiosity. Was he saying that the document was true? “It is accurate to our knowledge, yes. At least, it is consistent with other knowledge we’ve acquired from this side of the Galaxy Tear, what your people call the Bifrost. In any case, this means I have much less to explain to you. This is about your son, Drake, and your niece, Terira. We have something very special in mind for them…”
Mi’Olnr
It was just one of those days. There I was, about to be interviewed for the position as Mi’Olnr (commonly referred to as the Grand Armadian), and I had a whole pint of vorsetic on my uniform. I looked at the captain that had just spilled it. I could tell that he had thought I was someone else because his look of mortification was glued to my rank, Grand Admiral. I was the second-highest ranking officer in the entire Armada, and he had just spilled alcohol all over me.
My look obviously showed some disdain for what was going on because when he finally looked up at it, his face drained. “I’m s-s-so sorry, sir. I’ll c-clean that for you,” the captain stuttered. He was horrified. Surely, his career would be over. But I hadn’t the time for this.
“Nevermind cleaning it,” I said. “Just swap with me. I have important things to do.” At that time, I was glad I had voted towards standardized dress uniforms throughout the officer corps. All we had to do was switch name and rank. Everything else was on the cap we wore at all times but when directly addressing the Monarch. We finished the swap in one centiday.
When I finally got to the meeting, I was only 5 millidays early. As I had suspected, the Sheii’Cronell was already there, and he stared me down as if I had just murdered his mother. “Very nearly late, Admiral Khuda’Mundi.” I glared right back at the Oa’din of a man called Fargerre Sheii’Cronell. For a man who lived so highly according to impulse, he sure was quick to criticize similar behavior from others. Most of the Armada wished him dead, and I happened not to be missing from their ranks. It was a pity Sheii’Cronells were all but immortal.
Now that was an interesting thought to dwell on. I had always heard that particularl legend growing up on Osgord, but it wasn’t until I had seen Fargerre get shot down during the rebellion on Volur and come out of it all without a scratch after his seat ejected directly into an asteroid. His equipment had been destroyed, but somehow that Oa’din of a man had survived. Since that day, I had chosen not to question the other legends surrounding Sheii’Cronells.
“Now then, Admiral Khuda’Mundi,” the Sheii’Cronell spoke, breaking my train of thought and wrenching me back to reality. “I understand you were the first to captain a ship with a temporal manipulation drive system. What made you volunteer for what many considered a guaranteed suicide assignment?” His penetrating gaze set upon me again, but this time it contained something I’d never seen in him before: respect. This beast actually respected me for what had turned out to be the smartest gamble I had ever made in my career.
“Well, to be honest, at the time, I had just lost my wife and daughter to a mauling after a drig got out of its enclosure at the Osgord Zoo, and my son had just been declared missing in action on one of the outer planets. I didn’t really care if it was a suicide assignment or not. I had nothing to lose, and if the drive system worked, which it did, my career would benefit immensely. So I just put it in the Great One’s hands and said, ‘Why not?’” It was the truth. At the time, even I had doubted the system would work, but I would have welcomed a death at the time.
“Of course, much to everyone’s surprise, that system’s turned out to be the most reliable form of space travel we’ve ever used. Sure, it was dirty energy back then, and a few crewmembers died, but our methods have been perfected now, and you’ve reaped the benefits, haven’t you, Grand Admiral?” The Sheii’Cronell clearly hadn’t gotten the answer he was hoping for. No, he had wanted the heroic, valiant declaration of loyalty to the Armada so many a fresh Academy graduate spouted out like it was as natural as drinking from their mother’s teets as a babe.
But I had seen what the Armada really was. I wasn’t stupid. The Armada wasn’t defending anyone from anything. The travelers that had “given” us the TMDS had proven that. Even if we couldn’t translate what they had been transmitting, I had never seen such an obvious distress signal in my life. And the “missile” that had so heinously destroyed a passing cargo ship was revealed during a very hushed military investigation to be an escape pod. No, we were nothing more than the Monarch’s fist. When we had gone out to the travelers’ planet and started spouting out that crap about them being Murhan, I knew the only thing we existed for was to destroy anything that challenged the Monarch’s authority.
Which was why before returning home and personally escorting that stupid Sheii’Cronell beast to his puppet master’s palace, I had created a new ‘training protocol’ for new Valkyries: Monitor evolutionary progress on the nearby blue planet. All reports would be taken directly to Valkyrie Command, which was literally the only command in the Armada that didn’t report to the Monarch. The Valkyries had been trusted implicitly since their formation. And that was why I was the only person in this room that knew about the operation. The temporal misalignment caused by the Bifrost made for some very odd observations, as well. Already, twenty patrols had been sent out, reporting an overall passage of thousands of cycles’ time since the destruction of the travelers’ planet, and there were reports that a small ship of unknown origin had landed on the planet, depositing beings remarkably similar to ourselves.
So I smiled at the Oa’din’s face, feeling as though I was staring down Hikar’Diferus himself, and said, “So it would seem, Excellency. And I believe the 4-F Drig of which your new Drig Reidrs are so proud is based off the same technology. Hyping wouldn’t be possible on such small ships were it not for the TMDS, after all.” His eyes, always that shining red so distinctive of Sheii’Cronells, seemed to be tryi
ng to burn me alive at that comment. “What’s that saying of yours? Vega Lopt, isn’t it? I wonder why you seem so determined to kill the very sky in which you fly. Does your animal nature know no bounds?”
That was too far. The Sheii’Cronell’s hands slammed into the table, driving the metal down a good two fingers. He stood immediately, embarrassed at his own outburst. “We kill the sky itself because it gives the enemy nowhere to fly. Drigs don’t need a sky to fly. As you so aptly pointed out, the 4-F has a TMDS, which means it can hype, Grand Admiral. I’m done here. You’re lucky this interview was just a formality. Mi’Olnr Khuda’Cronell died in entry to Thor’s atmosphere last night when it collided with a rebel stealth bomber headed for Qzcivden. You’re the only man eligible for the job. Congratulations, Mi’Olnr Khuda’Mundi. You’ve got the job.” With that, he stormed out of the room.
The aged man who had been quietly observing the whole exchange slowly stood as well from his seat beside the Sheii’Cronell’s. “Please forgive my protege, Mi’Olnr. The previous Mi’Olnr was his brother. Today’s not been his best day.” It was then that I realized I was in the presence of the Monarch himself. I should have brought my repeater. But there was nothing that could be done. “I look forward to working with you, Mi’Olnr Khuda’Mundi. I’m sure you’ll do a fine job.”
“Of course, your Highness,” I managed to say, swiftly removing my cap to reveal my family’s characteristic green hair. Somehow, I had managed to hide all disdain in my voice, a miracle in and of itself, but the words that followed surprised even me. “It’s an honor to be in the company of one so great as his Majesty.” What was I saying? Was this that Oa’din’s powers at work, forcing me to fawn over him despite my hatred for him, or had I just become that successful a liar? When had that happened?
“Now, then, if you’ll excuse me, Mi’Olnr, I have many other matters to attend today. Good day, Mi’Olnr.” The Monarch turned and moved out of the room so elegantly he seemed to be gliding.
“Good day, your Highness,” I blurted out as he left. The doorway spun closed behind him. I pulled out my istringr and pulled up an old picture of my family, my wife’s gorgeous blue hair blowing in the long-gone breeze of that day. The screen’s light shone into my tear-filled eyes, and I managed to say quietly to my wife long dead and gone to Jal’din, “I’m sorry, my love.” I spent the next three centidays releasing the sick that had found its way to my stomach during that exchange with Hikar’Diferus’s own minions. May the Great One forgive me for what I’ve done in the name of that evil Monarch.