Chapter 11: Moonrise and Sunfall
Space was a void. A vacuum without any air or atmosphere, made of emptiness and darkness itself. Without air, sound could not traverse it, meaning that if one were to step outside the Artheia's relatively-warm confines and scream atop their lungs, their voice would die out before it could spread anywhere. No matter how loud the sound, it could not be heard in this place.
And yet, Esteban felt as if his heartbeat was loud enough to be heard from the other side of the solar system.
His chest felt slightly compressed, both from the maddening beating on the inside and the tight suit on the outside. It was a strange fit, yet one that would be needed for their journey ahead. A final trip into the unknown, one that would change everything.
Esteban was staring at a turned-off monitor. Beyond the black glass, a strange boy with golden eyes was looking right back at him, entirely clad in dark colors like an Olmec. Perhaps he had become one, exposed to unknown radiations in the confines of space; or perhaps it had begun much earlier, in that place they called the Flipside. Perhaps there was no recovering what had been changed. Perhaps he had doomed himself the moment he had stepped into that cursed place.
Or perhaps he did not have a choice. Perhaps he had embarked for something way too big for him. Perhaps the last moment he truly had been able to make a decision had been when he was but a little boy in monk robes, about to sail towards the New World. Everything that happened to him after that had been...dictated by fate more than by his own choices.
Unless that was something he was telling himself as to free himself from responsibility.
He could renounce. Run away. Steal the Chascowa and bring them back to Earth, make away with all worries about the Meteorite and messing with the past. He'd fly them off somewhere distant, somewhere remote, where no one could find them. They'd live away from all the consequences of their actions, where they wouldn't have to make choices ever again. They could free themselves from the fate they've been burdened with.
But that wouldn't be so easy. Now of all times was not the time to run. And fate, once more, would have the upper hand.
“Esteban?”
That voice brought him out of his thoughts.
“It's time to go.”
Time. Always so prevalent, and so lacking. Esteban didn't move for a moment, still staring at that other boy in the reflection, before forcing himself to get up and follow Zia into the docking bay.
His steps felt heavy, and his chest even heavier as they made their way to the Chascowa, still coated in lunar serenity. The engine was running and warm, and the cockpit was only awaiting them. Accepting Zia's helping hand, Esteban hoisted himself onto the cat's wing, and made his way to the left pilot seat.
It wasn't his first time here, and yet he felt like everything was new.
“I've checked the coordinates.”, Zia said, sitting down into the right seat. “The Chascowa will proceed on its own until the designated point, but then we might have to do manual piloting. I'll leave that part to you, since you have more experience.”
Esteban remembered to nod just in time. Right...now was not the time to be absent-minded. His skills were going to be needed.
If he couldn't do this, then the world was doomed. No rush, really.
The Chascowa's glass hatch slid down, locking them in. There was a noise, and a faint feeling in Esteban's ears that told him of the change in pressure. During his exploration of the Cities, he's learned that Atlanteans were more sensitive to pressure differences in the atmosphere; like swallows, they could tell of changes in the weather before they happened. Like everything he's been told, he's eaten it all up without questioning, and now he was doubting it all once more. And yet that feeling in his ears was real, and it grounded him down a little amidst his doubts. At least, he was on the same level as a swallow.
Now, he'd have to take off and fly like one.
“Pressurization is complete.”, Zia read out. “The temperature is stable.”
She pressed a few more buttons. She too was wearing that Olmec-like clothing, giving her body an extra layer of insulation. It wasn't too cold yet for Artheia's standards...but once they'd step out, it could very well change. Even the Snow Dwelling, on top of the world, would not compare to the emptiness of cold, dark space.
“We're ready to go.”
Esteban wondered if he could make it out. If he could turn around and refuse what was about to happen. Zia looked at him, as if she were feeling his doubts, and her stare felt like such a significant increase in pressure that even non-Atlanteans could notice it. Esteban took a deep breath, put his hands on the controls as he was now used to, and tilted them forward.
The Chascowa stepped out of the gateway.
Immediately, the change was noticeable, in that it wasn't noticeable at all. Where the land drive was clumsy and lightweight once it set paw onto the lunar soil, the serene drive was stepping smoothly and without any changes, unbothered by the weak gravity. The cat's bird talons were digging ever so slightly into the ground to help anchor it, and its wings were keeping it stable.
Yet the hardest part was yet to come.
“I'll hit a running start.”
He pressed another button, flipped a dial, and headed forth. Step after step, the Chascowa walked on the ground, increasing in speed with every stride. Already Esteban could feel himself getting pushed into his seat; he knew to not combat it, and to keep his eyes ahead. In all the short time of their preparation, they've barely had time to cover the basics of space flight, but he's perused enough manuals to know that these crafts knew what they were doing. People have been using them for ages with no accidents, and unless he was actually stupider than a swallow, he could not get it wrong provided he followed their instructions. So he kept going, and soon the Chascowa's legs got higher as they ran, and the speed meter kept getting higher as well.
“Now...fire the exhausts.”
More button presses. Fire started burning along the wings of the vehicle, pushing them even more forward. Another press, and the Chascowa's claws stopped digging into the soil; already they could feel it start to come loose, yet not quite enough to truly take flight. They weren't going nearly fast enough, but that would only be a matter of time.
Esteban kept going, feeling himself getting pressed even deeper into his seat. He had trouble reaching the right buttons, but the direction was solid enough that he barely needed to. All he had to do was keep awake and alert, until they hit the right threshold of nearly five thousand knots.
Zia slowly cranked up a lever, and the Chascowa's wings tilted ever so slightly. Soon it lost all contact with the ground, and Esteban folded back the legs as it got fully airborne. He glanced over at the wings outside, but unlike those of the sky drive, they were meant to handle such speeds, and were holding on. Already, the Golden Condor was losing in their race, and yet it still wasn't fast enough.
Just a little further.
The ground disappeared from sight. The engine whirred up faster. Esteban held onto the commands with all his might, as his heart pounded into his ears and the dashboard console kept displaying information he didn't know how to interpret. Zia tilted the wings again, extending them to their full span, and Esteban pushed a final time on the engine. The Chascowa rose into the air and kept going, going, going, until the chains of gravity finally let go. With a final thrust that dragged on into eternity, they reached the speed threshold and maintained it long enough to leave the moon's atmosphere.
The last tether to anything.
Slowly, Esteban released the commands, and speed started to decrease. The engines calmed down, and so did the pressure gluing him to his seat. He toggled off some parameters, checked the displays, and only then did he manage to catch his breath.
Everything had gone fine.
“This...truly is amazing.”, Zia said, letting out a sigh of relief. “We're sailing through space...!”
“We've sailed through time before. Is this any different?”
“It is when we're the ones doing it.”
Right. Even though the view was mostly made of darkness, Esteban had to admit there was something unique to the experience.
Space. Empty, cold, dark and boundless. In this void, there was no up or down, no gravity, no means for any living thing to survive. There was nothing out there, nothing to seek except for death. Esteban touched to the glass pane, and despite all of the Chascowa's insulation systems, it felt cold to the touch. This transparent pane was the only thing separating him from the vast nothingness, from the abyss so unfathomable that even darkness itself was afraid of it.
Just a few inches thick of material were his only shield against death in an ocean of void. Struck with that grim realization, Esteban couldn't help but close his eyes, let the cold feeling on his fingers wash over him and through his whole body. He thought of floating through this deadly abyss, and a feeling of weightlessness brought him a fit of vertigo rivaling everything he thought he'd know. Quickly, he focused back onto the commands, staring at the dashboard lights to bring himself away from that nauseating idea.
“I know.”, Zia replied, even though he hadn't said anything. “It's disorienting, isn't it?”
Esteban weakly nodded.
“So...the Meteorite.”, he resumed, trying to change subjects. “How do we...?”
“There's a pre-calculated flight path in the Chascowa's memory. You just have to follow the instructions, and we'll get there.”
She checked the displayed numbers.
“It will take a couple hours.”
“That long?”
“Consider yourself lucky! The first spacefaring ships took weeks to get from Earth to the moon.”
She looked out into the nothingness.
“The first explorers were of the Nibiru clan. Apparently, they have an affinity for low gravity, so space travel wasn't an issue for them. But to the others...it was more complicated.”
“They're the ones who made Artheia, right?”
Esteban jolted a little.
“Wait- the City! What will happen of it? We haven't closed it!”
“...Esteban, do you really think anyone will bother to steal its treasures all the way on the moon?”
“Well...”
He didn't know what to answer to that. He's spent weeks in that place, making himself comfortable enough to sleep in, that he's forgotten technical details such as its very location.
“...it just feels weird leaving a City open, that's all.”
“It's technically not a City of Gold. Or a...Karshvari fortress, as the Clans say. I don't even know what to call these places anymore, can you imagine?”
“The legendary Cities of Mu were not even built by the people of Mu. What a shame.”
What a lie, what a huge and dastardly lie. But it would come to an end soon, along with all their other lies.
Just a couple hours, and it would all be over.
~~~~~
The sky was unusually bright, that night.
The full moon was usually an auspicious sign. The peak before the fall, the zenith before change. Anything could happen on a night like this.
It was getting late, so late that it might as well be early. Nostradamus took a moment off his contemplation of the sky to stifle yet another yawn, feeling the weight of all those sleepless nights take a toll on him.
Out of the corner of his eye, something gleamed.
A whole second passed before he realized it. Quickly, he took his telescope in hand and tried to find it, but he couldn't. A mere trick of the light, maybe. Sighing, he sat back up, looking at the night sky with boredom; and perhaps with some contempt too, for he's spent countless hours staring at those same stars now.
How strange. Venus seemed especially bright tonight.
Nostradamus shook his head, cursing the lack of sleep. Now was not the time to get distracted. He wrote down some numbers, checking his calculations, and resumed searching for signs of the upcoming disaster.
~~~~~
Zia felt its presence before the radar even picked it up.
They were flying closer and closer to the Earth, and had a beautiful view of its oceans and coastlines from where they were. But as they flew over the globe, just close enough to borrow from its orbital speed yet not enough to fall into its gravitational pull, they got to see it from up close.
That threatening green glow.
Down here, on that continent they've once frequented, it would have been noticed too. Surely people were on high alert. Surely they were panicking. Surely they thought this would be the end.
Surely that young Zia, down in Chambord, was growing more and more afraid with every second. She'd never tell anyone, but the older Zia didn't need to hear it. After all, she's been there too.
More details started to pick up as the Chascowa was flying closer. The Meteorite wasn't in danger range yet, but it was only a matter of hours. They would intercept it beforehand. And yet, the closer they flew...the more it seemed like they weren't progressing.
It would have been easy to think that the Meteorite was close. But then, it started to get bigger, and bigger, to the point of throwing off all sense of perspective. For it was far, much farther away than they'd have thought. And yet, it appeared so close to them, for the simple reason that it was absolutely massive.
A colossal hunk of metal, resembling a rock more than a ship, so large and wide that it couldn't show up properly on any of the Chascowa's displays. Even from afar, they could not get a clear view of its shape. Yet as they flew closer, it became obvious that it was tremendously complex, and that what could have been a smooth surface was streaked all over with ridges and indents that added to its monstrous aspect, as much as the green light that surrounded it. This was no vehicle; this was an otherworldly entity coming to destroy Earth.
Perhaps they've been right to fear it.
“How can we even get inside this thing?”, Esteban asked in a quiet yet panicked tone. “It's the size of a whole town!”
“Let's come closer.”
Esteban recovered the controls, and switched to manual piloting. It would have to be finesse from there on; adjusting the flight angle and speed, he tried to approach the craft.
Immediately, he saw that it would be easier said than done. That ship was so big that it had gravity, and the green light surrounding it emitted dangerous heat and radiation. It wasn't the light of a comet entering the atmosphere, as there was no air to cause friction; therefore it ought to be something coming from the ship itself. Some kind of protective shield? What for?
“I'm not sure the Chascowa can handle that amount of energy. We might need to find another way.”
“Can't you redirect it?”
“I don't even know what it's made of!”
The serene drive came with some protection against radiation and various energies of space...but that much might be too much. Yet it wasn't like a way would magically open itself to them.
They'd have to force their way in.
Zia flipped a couple dials, and the Chascowa resumed moving. Its wings folded as the thrusters turned the other way around, gradually lowering in thrust. The Meteorite was moving at tremendous speeds, and if they hit it at the wrong angle, they would definitely crash into it; they had to let gravity do the job, and yet fight back just enough to not risk certain death.
“Can you grab onto it?”, Esteban asked.
“I can try...”
She opened the legs and put them forward. The Chascowa now resembled a hawk diving onto a gigantic prey, ready to catch it in its talons of hubris. If they could get solid footing, they'd have an anchor point from where they could further figure things out.
The ship suddenly rumbled, and the Chascowa's displays rang out in alarm.
“Blight- it has begun! Hold on tight!”
Esteban pulled on the engines, hoping to slow down the fall, but he greatly underestimated the Meteorite's gravity. It felt as if they were falling down, right into that ocean of green light. Hurriedly, he pressed more buttons without thinking too much about function, hoping to trigger something useful, and their ship didn't take it kindly.
“Hang on...this can be fixed! I just need...more power!”
“Don't! We must secure the landing!”
But Esteban's hands were already on the commands.
The Chascowa touched to the green light shield. Immediately, the displays all went up, as emerald flares bounced off its hulls and straight into their eyes. The noise of alarms and warnings came to break the overwhelming silence of space, startling his heart while he tried to regain control of something he couldn't even see. Memories of being aboard the Condor in the middle of a storm came back to him, and reflexes came back to him. Reaching for another button, he pressed it just as he pulled on the commands, and the Chascowa tilted up to fly parallel to the Meteorite's surface.
“Just a little more...!”
Zia tilted the lever, and the legs extended forward again. It would be a difficult maneuver, and a risky one too; but they had no other way to do it. She watched the numbers on the flight radar get even more hectic, sweat beading on her brow, and only when she was sure of it did she trigger the grip.
“Hold on tight!”
The Chascowa's legs grabbed onto the Meteorite's textured surface, and immediately did contact ripple throughout the cockpit. The whole vehicle shook as its claws skid and scratched along the vessel's hull, caught in their own momentum and carried by the gravitational pull. Zia dug the claws deeper in, turning the wings to thrust the other way and reduce the drag, in a cacophony of shaking and rumbling and vibrating all the while. Yet their speed kept going down, and the energy lowered itself; and after a time that seemed like it would never end, the Chascowa finally came to a halt.
The bird had perched onto the egg.
“Is it...solid?”, Esteban asked, still shaking.
“I think so. Let's hurry.”
Zia folded back the wings, and stood up to look through the windshield. Whatever the glowing light was, they were right underneath it. Ahead of them, Earth was visible, but not quite yet in its proper position. They'd have a few hours before the Meteorite crashed.
But how long until the Shield's solar cannon would fire?
Slowly, Esteban headed along the Meteorite's hull, releasing and re-anchoring the Chascowa's talons with every step. He had to find a way in, any way, yet it was difficult to see where he was going at all. If there was no hatch on this surface, they'd have to make one of their own...now whether they actually
could, was a whole other story.
“Do we have enough time left?”, he asked between two strides.
“Hard to say. I remember the solar cannon firing in the morning...”
Zia peeked over at the shape of Earth, and the sun's position.
“We have only one chance to do this...so we'll have to be careful with timing. The sun isn't shining yet on Europe, I suppose we have about a couple hours.”
“Let's just hope things happen the same way down there.”
Either way, he didn't want to lose too much time. Stopping his slow walking, he firmly anchored the Chascowa in place, talons digging into the metal.
“This whole ship seems...rather fragile.”, he said. “It doesn't even resist when I scratch it.”
“It's meant to explode and scatter its pieces onto Earth. Perhaps it's intentional.”
“Do you think that if I dig hard enough, I could open a way in?”
Zia thought some more.
“It could be worth a try...wait, get us lower to the surface.”
Esteban tilted the commands, and the Chascowa leaned down, like an animal examining the ground. From here, they could see the Meteorite's hull more closely, including the scratching marks they've left while walking.
“It's not orichalcum, but it's tough enough to withstand space travel.”, he said. “Worth a shot.”
Releasing one leg, he slammed it back into place, talons aimed down. This material was strong, but weaker than orichalcum, and gave away easily. He kept going, scratching at it, like a bird tearing apart pieces of flesh off something much bigger than itself. It was difficult to keep clawing and hacking at it while maintaining a grip; Esteban had to lean down and try to hook the wings into grooves on the surface as to not fly away. They were going extremely fast, after all, even if from their perspective it was an agonizingly slow descent onto Earth.
A talon pierced, and the Chascowa's leg fell right into the hole, as if sucked into it. The both of them jolted, holding onto anything they could.
“What's going on?”, Zia asked.
“I think...I think we fell in. The pressure difference has caught us like a trap.”
“Can we get out?”
It wouldn't be easy. They still had to think of a way to actually get inside the Meteorite; they couldn't leave the Chascowa, and had no means to actually stay alive outside its much-needed protection. But if there was pressure difference, that meant there was air inside the ship; he's studied enough blueprints to know how it worked. And he knew that if he kept making holes into the hull, they'd waste what limited breathing room there was.
“I can try something.”
With difficulty, he managed to get their foot unstuck from the hole, despite the pressure it exerted. Quickly taking a step back, he instead plunged headfirst into it, and effectively got stuck.
“What are you doing!?”, Zia called out.
“Give me a moment!”
He had to contort the Chascowa's body in such weird ways so that the talons would reach the opening and keep scratching at it. He wriggled and finagled until the Chascowa's head was sufficiently lodged inside, and then kept going to put at least one wing through. He folded them along the body, and managed to get the chest halfway inside; but to go any further soon proved impossible. To go back seemed just as difficult.
“...well, at least we're in.”
“Can we safely leave?”
“Hard to say. The pressure's weak, but stable.”
He lit the path to try and get a clear view. They've breached into some empty room, flanked with closed doors on two opposite sides.
“If we're fast, we can run towards the doors and close them behind us. I think I can open the hatch, but I'm not sure we're fully insulated.”
“Which way? Left or right?”
“If I remember correctly...let's go for the left. That must be where the command room is.”
Esteban's hand hovered over the opening button. He looked at Zia nervously, and she braced herself just as much. He took a deep breath, and slammed down the button.
The moment the hatch opened, air was drawn out from the pressure difference. Esteban and Zia felt themselves pulled forward as they hurried out and ran forward; but their steps were weak and couldn't get any grasp. Holding tight onto her partner's hand, Zia reached out and pushed on what weak forces she could hold onto as to propel them forward. Her hand made contact with some handle, and she grabbed it fiercely. The door must have sensed their presence, for it opened in front of them; and the flow of air that came out only pushed them further away. Zia managed to push them further in, as Esteban's hand touched to the control panel, closing the door behind them. At last, they could hit the ground; the gravity was weak, but they could breathe in those halls.
Light slowly came in, gradually turning on as if to show them the way. Esteban stood on feeble legs, offering Zia to do the same, and they made their way through the metal corridors of the Meteorite.
There was a strong noise ringing out everywhere, like machinery running. The walls were trembling ever so slightly, and this craft would have made for a poor transportation vessel. But the more they ventured, the more it appeared that this had never been this ship's goal. Everything felt crude, barely marked, perhaps hastily-made. Unlike all the treasures of Mu, this ship had only ever been meant to be destroyed; so perhaps it was only meant to survive just that long.
“Do you think the Ancients sent it from their homeworld?”, Zia asked, her voice echoing in the hallway. “From the Cradle?”
“It's possible. That would mean...the Cradle is somewhere outside Earth.”
“I wonder if we'll find something in this ship's flight logs.”
“Me too. The piloting cabin ought to be in this direction...let's keep going.”
Easier said than done, though.
At one point, the path forked into several branches. There was no indication regarding where they led, and Esteban and Zia looked at each other.
“Should we...split up?”
“I don't know. I've never thought of how we'd actually do this.”
Yet it wasn't like they could afford to waste time thinking on it.
“I'm going to try to steer this ship.”, Esteban said after a moment. “If we could get it out of the Earth's range...”
“You can't. We have to let it be destroyed, remember?”
Right. This wouldn't be so simple.
“...but perhaps I'll find something useful either way. Maybe like the self-destruct command on Solaris, remember?”
“Maybe.”
Zia looked at the possible paths.
“In that case, I’ll head for the storage room. Perhaps I can try something.”
“Do you know where it is?”
“Not exactly. But if I keep going in the same direction, I’m bound to find it. This ship's cargo is practically as big as a town!”
“Let's hope, then.”
They looked at each other, still unsure of what was about to happen. Yet one thing was clear: they had to try. Slowly, Esteban and Zia let go of each other, and went on separate ways.
The pilot cabin was easy to find; Esteban reached it without hurdles. It was quite large, but nearly not enough for a ship this size. Everything seemed oddly quiet, and the light coming from Earth was bathing the whole room in a blueish glow. Down there was his world, everything he's ever known; and now, he had to go and save it.
“Right. Let's see...”
He sat down in the pilot seat, and tried to wake up the machinery. Yet he couldn't seem to get it to respond to his inputs: no buttons he pressed brought any reaction, and the commands were firmly locked in place. Whoever had set sail aboard this craft had made sure no one could interfere with it. Esteban knew the goal wasn't to turn the Meteorite around, but the fact he couldn't do it even if he wanted to still didn't sit right by him.
Nothing in any of this felt right.
Up overhead, the Meteorite wasn't quite aligned with Europe yet. They had a couple hours left at best. But even though Esteban knew he shouldn't waste time, he had no idea of what to do right now: none of these commands were labeled, and to try them all out would take way too long. Besides, any visible changes would risk interfering with the events about to unfold, and he didn't want to cause something he'd have no way to fix.
Ugh. What a pain than to be stuck with no way to make things better!
“Clearly Zia would have more luck than me.”
On the other side of the ship, Zia had reached the cargo bay at last. There were many doors, stretching across long hallways with numbers going into the hundreds. She opened one at random, and immediately the artificial blue light hurt her eyes as she tried to make her way in.
Piles upon piles of containers and tanks. Some of them were filled with that odd blue liquid that had intrigued them so much, while some were tightly packed into metallic crates. She couldn't read the writing put on them, but by comparing a few of them, she saw the same words pop up again and again. She grabbed a small crate and managed to pry it open with enough pulling: inside, neatly cushioned in soft material, were smaller glass tubes filled not with liquid, but with...
“...seeds?”
She unscrewed the lid off one container, coughing a little at the smell within, and spilled out the contents on the floor. These looked oddly similar to peanut seeds, except for their unnatural purplish coloration.
It made too much sense. Once the metastasis had killed all plants on Earth, something would need to replace them. The Ancients needed to feed, but they would not take the fruits of an earth other than their own. If these plants were allowed to grow in the same soil as those Zia knew, they would take over the fields and forests, and choke out all native plants like parasites.
Without thinking twice, Zia crushed those seeds under her foot.
She kept going. Other containers revealed other seeds, spores, samples of soil. There was enough variety in this room alone to set up an orchard of Cradle plants; the containers were solid enough to preserve them during descent, and made to shatter upon impact with the ground. Wherever the Meteorite's fragments would land, metastatic organisms would bloom. And seeing the effects of the blue plague, they would bloom very well.
Zia thought of how she would proceed. She could shatter these crates open and let their contents burn during atmospheric entry...but there were way too many of them, and she only had her own two hands to work with. It would take way too long, even if she got Esteban's help. As for her powers...she had no idea of how they could help in this situation, for she wouldn't be able to budge the larger crates at all.
“I'd need to destroy them.”, she pondered. “If only I had a weapon...or something that could...”
That could unleash large amounts of energy? She remembered Ambrosius in Kumlar, gloating about the power of his Black Suns. Ironically, having one on hand could perhaps help, but she had no idea how to even...
...wait.
“Of course...!”
And she hurried out of the room, retracing her steps.
In the pilot's cabin, Esteban was still struggling. Clearly one of these buttons would control the cargo hatch, but he had no idea of which; so the only thing he could try was to test them all. And with the machine being as unresponsive and non-compliant, his frustration quickly turned to anger, and his presses became slams onto the multiple dashboards.
“Will you work, already!?”
His shouts were so loud that Zia could hear them from where she was. She tried to stay unnoticed as she made her way back to where they've arrived; opening the door, she was ever-so-slightly pulled forward, hinting at the presence of a slight leak. She wouldn't have time to hesitate, it seemed.
The Chascowa was still there, head and torso awkwardly poking through the wall. Zia held onto the doorframe to not get caught in the draft, and cast her hand forward. She closed her eyes, focused on the flow of energy, and commanded matter to obey her.
A trapdoor under the Chascowa's neck opened.
Zia drew her hand back, and something came along. A glowing mass fell right through, and she caught it with her mind just before it hit the floor. She made it come her way, and it reacted very well, as if it could discern her intentions without she even had to speak them. She closed the door behind it, and in the dimly-lit corridor, the little ball seemed to glow like the heart of a volcano.
The Black Sun that powered their vehicle.
She could tell it had lost a lot of energy. It was nothing like the dangerous weapons Ambrosius had wielded; yet she could feel it was still brimming with power. If she did things right, she could use it to get rid of the metastasis before it reached Earth. And perhaps there would be enough energy left to power the Chascowa and fly out of here. This would be the end of their troubles.
It's important that everything has both an end and a beginning.
The Falcon King's words came back to her all of a sudden. And with them, so did Zia's fears. She looked at the Black Sun, at the hallway ahead of her, and a strange sensation washed over her.
You won't die, but only because you'll never have existed in the first place.
...of course. If Zia changed the course of events, then the person she was now would never exist. Perhaps none of this would happen, and their efforts would have been in vain. Perhaps the world was doomed no matter what, and she was about to commit a sacrifice for nothing.
She thought to the person she was three years ago. A little girl in need of guidance, only just learning to control her powers. A pawn in hands bigger than her whole existence, a token to be traded and stolen and used. Had she done all that was expected of her, she'd have died a thousand deaths before ever meeting the present moment.
And all she could feel in the present moment, was the need to do the right thing. Whether her actions meant anything in the face of time and reality didn't matter to her; right now, right here, they would mean something to the world she was about to save.
She stepped forward, the Chascowa's heart trailing behind her. Without skipping a beat, she made her way to the cargo, looking at all the doors ahead of her. She opened the nearest one, looked at the rows upon rows of containers filled with this blue poison. And the sight alone made her anger rise within her.
The Black Sun rose by her side, gently vibrating. By her ear, it almost sounded like a cat purring.
“Attack.”
It did not need to be told twice.
~~~~~
Out of nowhere, an alarm rang.
Several buttons started to glow, casting threatening sounds. Esteban raised his head, looking around in a panic; what did he do this time? Has the machinery had enough of his mindless button-mashing and decided to intervene?
And yet he didn't feel like it was. The sound didn't come from the cabin, where no lights had turned on. It came from the hallway.
“Zia!”
And he dashed out to find the source of it.
He followed the echoes of metal falling and reverberating around the corridors. There was a loud clang, and the sound of something...burning? Was there a fire? But what could have caused it!? He hurried even faster, following the flashes of bright light he could see in the distance. If he remembered the blueprints right, then that was where the dangerous cargo was held.
“Zia, what are you doing...?”
More of those noises came to show him where to go. And indeed, once in the main storage hall, he saw that many doors had been opened. He looked inside one, and what he saw nearly made his heart stop.
Containers, tubes and crates had fallen in disarray on the floor. They've been shattered, smashed open, their contents spilling on the ground to pieces; but most of all, they've been
molten. As if struck by rays of fire, metal and glass have been liquefied, and whatever was stored inside was now but ash.
Esteban's blood ran cold. A vision of the Rajah's apartments in Patiala flashed back to mind.
Outside, he heard the noise again. It was right near. Forcing himself to head out, he saw Zia coming out of a room, something hovering behind her. Something he recognized.
“So much about danger, huh?!”
He didn't know why he said that. She turned to him, and something in her expression felt like she'd been expecting that reaction from him. For she barely acknowledged him, and kept going.
“Hey!”
He ran after her, and managed to grab her sleeve.
“What do you think you're doing?”
“Isn't it obvious?”
She looked at him again.
“I'm putting an end to this.”
“We said we wouldn't destroy the Meteorite! That we had to let things happen!”
“The ship will be fine. But its cargo will never make it to Earth, and that's what makes the difference.”
It was a solid plan. And yet...the sight of the Black Sun right over her shoulder didn't put him at ease.
“It's not a good idea.”, he said feebly. “If you use up all the power within, how are we going to get back?”
She didn't answer. Instead, she turned around, and Esteban felt like he's missed something.
“Hey! You could answer, at least.”
But she didn't. She kept turning her back to him, as if insisting, and Esteban didn't understand.
And yet...some things didn't need words. Some things just had a way of making themselves clear. Once more, Esteban felt suddenly cold.
“You've...planned for us to get back, right?”
And this time either, she did not say anything.
Dread fell over him like a sheet of lead.
“Think for a moment, Esteban.”, Zia said quietly. “What did you think was going to happen?”
She turned around, as if forcing herself to meet his eyes.
“You really thought we could live happily in the past? Coexist with our child selves? Or perhaps you'd have wanted to hide on the moon for the rest of your life?”
Esteban tried to find something to say, but Zia was faster.
“Our existences are an anomaly in this world! We were never supposed to be here, and we have long overstayed our welcome.”
“...so what will you do? Do you plan to kill us, here and now?”
“There's no escape, and you know it. The Chascowa doesn't have enough power left to return to the moon, and it would burn entering Earth's atmosphere. The Meteorite will be destroyed by the solar cannon. Whatever we do now...we're trapped either way.”
Esteban shook his head, as if he couldn't accept it. And yet...part of him knew she was right. It was an uncomfortable truth, one he had to accept, and yet he couldn't bring himself to.
Not when it meant accepting death quietly and without as much as a protest.
“It can't end like this...”, he attempted. “We had so much to live for! All those mysteries to answer!”
“And we will. If we save the world, then our younger selves-”
“You know that's not what I mean!”
His eyes started to prickle, his throat got tight.
“It won't be the same! You and I will die here, and you know it!”
Zia sighed. She too seemed like a weight was dragging her down; in the light of the Black Sun, her traits looked worn and aged in a way he's never seen before.
“...we have to. If we fail, then millions of others will die in turn.”
She looked up at him.
“We can't let this happen.”
And Esteban, deep down, knew she was right. Yet all the same, he shook his head, refusing to accept it.
“There has to be another way. We could...we...”
“We can't do anything. Earth, the moon, the Flipside...we can't return anywhere. Our only choice is to roam space until we run out of energy and starve, unless the oxygen recyclers give out first. Is that what you want?”
“I just want us to stay alive!”
Zia didn't reply. She just stared at him for a long time, for way too long, and Esteban felt all his strength leave him.
He could fight her. He could take that weapon away. But she would remain in the right, and he would only commit a cruel act of selfishness. Sacrifice the world to save his own skin, and not even as to make anything out of it.
Slowly, he lowered his head, and said nothing else. Zia didn't say anything either, but turned her back to him as to enter another room, the Black Sun floating at her side.
So this was how it all ended, huh.
He didn't quite command his body anymore. Almost like a machine, he crouched down, and picked up a broken off pipe from a pile of half-molten rubble. He headed in a room further down the hall, which was packed with these glowing glass tubes filled with toxic water.
Poison in its purest form. And yet, by virtue of blood he barely acknowledged anymore, it would not hurt him.
He clenched the pipe in hand, took a step back, and smashed it onto the nearest container. Glass and liquid spilled everywhere, and another alarm rang, adding to the cacophony of all those already going off. Esteban tried his best to ignore that sound; as if to prove himself stronger, he yelled from the top of his lungs, and ran forward to shatter another container. More of that poison fell, splashing him like a sudden salty rain, and yet he kept going.
The fire kept spreading. Flames grew in intensity, feeding off the organic matter inside the crates. An acrid smell of burnt wood started to fill the air, and Esteban felt it difficult to breathe. It wasn't until they were halfway done with their rampage that he remembered something important: humans needed oxygen to breathe, and so did fire. The more these flames grew, the more they were eating at what little air remained inside the enclosed spaceship. But it was too late to turn back now; bringing the collar of his suit over his mouth, as if that would make any difference, he kept going through the smoke and darkness, clenching his makeshift weapon in his glass-scored hand.
Past a point, Zia stopped caring about method and cleanliness. The Black Sun burnt through containers, through walls, and everything around her was melting down into unusable debris. What she couldn't reach, she'd will open, so that the flames could get to them. These crates were meant to spill open upon impact, and would not resist her for long; nor could they handle the sheer energy of the Black Sun. If the fire kept burning, then everything would burn and be destroyed; and the moment the ship would be split apart by the solar cannon, the rest would just fall into space.
Yet that still left open too many risks. Too many chances of re-entry, or botched destruction, or even airborne propagation of ashes. She couldn't take time for every single one of them, so she'd have to do something drastic on a large scale.
She let the Black Sun hover between her hands. It was burning hot, having expanded a lot of energy. Who knew that powerful weapons had a limited lifespan? Yet even the full force of its rays would not be enough to deal with this ship in time.
Which meant she had to go even stronger.
"Lend me your strength one last time, Chascowa.”
She sent it up in the air, and focused. She could not feel the pulse of the earth anywhere beneath or around her; they were in a place so removed from any other corner of the world that it was impossible to call upon familiar energies. She would have to improvise.
She had nothing to lose, after all.
She pictured the Flipside. The Cradle, with Rana'Ori and the Ancients gathered there, sneering at them behind their veiled and inscrutable faces. All the lies they've been told still hurt like so many knives in the back, as if their stabbed bodies were but stepping stones meant to be discarded after use. Zia felt anger burning within her, and what little elements still existed here answered to her.
The Black Sun shifted and moved, as if reacting to her. It moved and grew, swelling like a tumor, its light growing brighter and yet more somber by the second. As if it reflected all she was feeling, all she was going through, all she was going to do.
Whatever you've done, I will undo.
She closed her eyes, and set it loose. Immediately after, the sound and blow of the explosion overshadowed the alarms and flames, and glass and metal followed suit.
Zia felt herself hit the ground, and did not manage to get back up. Around her, pandemonium was unfolding, and the chaos it made was overwhelming. But suddenly, she felt hands around her and jolted in surprise; only to realize it was Esteban. He said something to her, but she did not hear any of it in this mess.
The two of them made their way out into the main hall. Flames had spread everywhere, filling the air with smoke and soot. The alarm had died down, unable to keep up, and so had many of the lights and systems around the area. Whatever Zia had done, it was effective. She looked at Esteban, and despite everything, tried to smile at him. It would work. It would all work.
As if to prove her wrong, the ship suddenly shook.
Light covered everything. A bright light, seeping through crevices and cracks all around them. It was so bright that it was actually hot, and their feet burned just standing on this ground. Esteban and Zia huddled together, unable to even look at what was going on; but the realization hit them both at the same time.
The solar cannon.
Esteban tried to move, to do anything. He heard metal creaking and breaking, followed with a sudden wave of cold, and realized with horror that the ship was splitting into pieces. What little air remained was being sucked out, taking out the smoke and flames and gravity. He grabbed onto the first doorframe he could reach, unable to do anything else but suffer what was going on.
And it was all going too fast. Raising his head, he could see stars, shooting by like silver trails as the light of the sun overshadowed them. It was burning, it was breaking away at everything, and the fabric of reality itself was shattering under the force of this solar flare that would engulf everything in a matter of seconds. He managed to reach for Zia, and she embraced him tight, for she too knew what was about to happen.
And then, in the middle of all of the noise and light, someone reached for him.
As if putting on a well-rehearsed play, Esteban let go, and felt himself be swept away by the void. He cast his hand forward, and that other hand caught him right in time. It pulled the two of them, pulled them stronger than all of space, and Esteban let it happen.
Until, at last, the cold and the flames disappeared altogether.
~~~~~
“So...that's it? We're giving up on this sliver?”
“Obviously not. But we will have to proceed a different way.”
The ambassador rose a hand, as if to calm down the flurry of questions that would come within a second.
“It has taken a long time, but deliberations have concluded.”, she explained. “The Humans will be accepted as the twenty-second Clan.”
“That is nonsense! Those animals,
part of the Clans?!”
“It does stand to reason that in their current state, they cannot be welcomed into the Cradle. They lack the essential qualities of body and mind to be truly acknowledged as people. But this is where the Clan of Mu will intervene.”
She turned to the display on the wall. A projection of the landscapes and oceans of this strange planet, this promising sliver of reality.
“As of now, metastasis would be lethal to the Humans. This would be a bad start to our eventual collaboration, you might agree. Therefore, we will recall the outpost we have established; the Clan of Atlantis has agreed to do the same with their own outpost. The sliver will be declared under temporary lockdown. However, we will leave the Humans with...a little parting gift.”
And she held out two items. Two round discs bearing known patterns, dangling from strings.
“With the help of the Clan of Karshvar, we have installed seven selected sites across the existing continents of Earth. They can only be opened using those keys, which will be sent to random points on the sliver. This will be by no means a small endeavor; for it will require all of the Humans to work together as to achieve this goal. Not as disparate tribes, but as something greater. As a Clan.”
She handed the two keys over to the Antilian scouts.
“The Clan of Nibiru will remain nearby as to oversee the Humans' progress. When the time comes and they have accepted their place in our society, Earth will be metastasized, and its people welcomed into the Cradle.”
“A most ingenuous idea. However, how can we possibly prime Humans for metastasis if the sliver is restricted?”
“Along the course of our deliberations, we have captured several specimens as to study their behavior and biology. These will be genetically altered by our best scientists before being sent back to their lands. With a little luck, they will help the emergence of desirable traits in the Human population before they can establish their own abilities.”
“Marvelous. Simply, wholly marvelous.”
“Princess, how long do you believe the process will take?”
The ambassador thought.
“There are many unknown parameters at hand. Optimistic estimates plan for five hundred years, but a more realistic timeframe would be around ten thousand.”
“Well, that is reasonable for a project this big.”
“Will there truly be no Ancient presence on Earth? Someone needs to oversee the process!”
“Alas, it would count as interference. For the time being, we will remain observers of the situation. Should said situation drag on for too long despite suitable parameters...I have a solution that would not breach any of our agreements.”
Only the mind-reading Clan of Panchaia would know that, in this very moment, her thoughts were drifting to an egg safely kept away in a stasis chamber.
“Regardless, I, Rana'Ori of the Clan of Mu, promise to you that this sliver will be conquered very soon. Everything will be done ethically, and no Clan members will come to harm by the hand of another.”
It would work, she thought. It would work. It had no other way but to work.
No other way.
~~~~~
At last, Esteban woke up.
The air was calm, and warm. It was air he knew. He opened weak eyes, and the familiar gleam of gold welcomed him, along with what he could see of the azure sky. He was back in the Flipside.
Or perhaps he had never left it.
He would be ready to accept this had all been a dream, or a very intense vision. How many times had he been caught in the vivid twists and turns of adventures he'd believe wholeheartedly in, only to wake up and realize they were all a dream? And those dastardly visions did not make anything easier either. Feeling unable to do anything else, he closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep.
And then, the voice spoke.
“Are you alright?”
That was not a voice he knew. But then, another spoke, and he recognized it.
“They're singed all over...”
Memory flashed back to him like an intrusive thought.
“Zia!”
He tried to get up, but felt a sharp pain in his hand. There were bits of glass embedded in his skin; he saw the shattered tanks, the smashed crates, the opened spaceship. While he could have believed this was all a dream, the pain he felt in this moment was all to real. He felt it in his hands and forearms, as well as his face: shards of glass had nicked him all over in his carelessness. That's when he saw Zia, laying next to him in a similar posture.
He heard someone else shuffle. He looked up at them, ready to fight...but all it did was make his confusion even worse.
His own face was staring back at him.
“What...?”
He managed to stand up, trying to not let the odd feeling in his legs get to him. He thought at first that he was looking into a mirror, but his reflection was a head shorter than him, and did not wear the same clothing. He did not have patterned skin, nor the marks of adulthood.
Neither did the short Zia standing next to him.
“What's...going on?”
Esteban tried to remember. They were on the Meteorite, and its destruction had been swift. But then the solar cannon had fired, and the ship had started breaking down. And in the middle of all of this, faced with sudden death, a hand had reached for him.
The same hand that this younger Esteban was nervously rubbing. He could see where the shards of glass had lightly nicked him as well.
“...it was you.”
He looked around. This was a place he knew: the Transportation Ziggurat, at the heart of the Flipside. The gates were all open, except for the one right behind him; the gate they had come out of.
“I'm not sure what's going on.”, the boy said. “Are you...me?”
Esteban looked at him, unsure as to what to reply. He's been faced with his luminoprojection back in Kumlar, but this...this was something else.
“I...I don't know. I’m not sure I should tell you.”
On the side, the girl was helping Zia stand up. While the latter was equally confused by what was going on, she seemed to regain some grasp of the situation.
“The Meteorite...”, she asked. “Did we destroy it? Did it work?”
“Well,
we destroyed it.”, the boy claimed. “It was a lot of work, I'll tell you!”
He crossed his arms, as if not quite believing the older two. Esteban simply nodded.
“And then the King claimed he'd take it all for himself.”, he replied. “But in the end, he was the one who got gotten.”
The boy blinked.
“You've seen it?”
“I did. And...”
He sighed with fondness.
“...and all that happened next, too. And I know that when we left for this world we've seen before...all I could think of was Barcelona.”
He looked at the boy.
“That last night in my bedroom, staring at the clothes that Brother Marcelo had brought me. I was about to go someplace new and unknown, and I knew I'd never return...but if I didn't, I would regret it for the rest of my life.”
And the boy gasped silently. Esteban knew what this meant: he had never told anyone this. Only he would know, and that alone was enough to convince the younger two.
“You really are...”, the girl breathed.
“I don't understand.”, Zia then said. “How...how did you know we were here? At no point do I remember...”
The girl then handed her something: a piece of parchment. The older two looked it over, and found something cryptic scribbled in ashen ink.
“Set a gate to these coordinates, pull your hand through, and wait five seconds. If you feel someone grabbing you: pull with all your might. If you don't: close the gate immediately. In both cases, destroy this message.
Regards,[br /]
A friend.”
The only other things on this message were a long string of numbers, and a drawing of a bird that Zia had once seen.
Engraved all over the walls of a City, somewhere outside of time.
“Well...I don't think I’ll thank you enough.”, Esteban chuckled. “I really thought we were done for, out there!”
“What even is going on? Why are you...me? And older?”
“Oh, that...I guess we'll have a lot of explaining to do, heh... But hey, this place won't be so lonely now, at least!”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you staying with us?”
“After all we've just been through, the least I want is a hot bath. I guess we'll see later, but honestly, why not?”
The younger children looked at each other with wide eyes.
“That's incredible!”
“What even were you doing out there?”
“Well, it's a long story. But...now that the harm is done, I guess there's no trouble in telling it. Right, Zia?”
Esteban looked at his friend, but she didn't return his gaze. Staring at her messy hair, all Esteban could feel was...an odd sensation.
One that didn't bode well.
“...Zia?”
She sighed, and turned around as to speak.
Her eyes fell upon emptiness.
“...Esteban.”
She reached a hand in front of her, as if to touch something that wasn't there. She felt drained of strength, unable to take even a single step further; and yet she forced herself to.
Yet no step was heard.
“Esteban?”
Esteban blinked. In front of him, the opened gate felt cold and strange, and his hand was starting to hurt. Yet nothing had touched to it for over five seconds; quickly, he withdrew it, and rubbed his wrist to bring back some warmth.
“There's nothing, is there?”
“No...only freezing cold. I could feel my blood trying to leave my skin!”
Zia looked at the parchment again.
If you don't: close the gate immediately. She wasn't sure what this amounted to, but even though these instructions were nebulous, they were concise. She ripped up the parchment, tossed the pieces through the gate, and pressed the command to close it. After a few seconds, it reset back to its normal settings.
“I guess we'll never know what lies behind this door.”, she shrugged. “Do you think the nacaals will explain it?”
“I don't think anyone's here.”, Esteban said, peering out of the ziggurat. “Do you really think there's people in this place?”
“Only one way to find out.”
And she held out her hand with a smile. Esteban chuckled and took it, and the two of them ran down the stairway, towards this new and unknown world where all the Cities of Gold were gathered. As they did, they could see the seventh one build itself just off to the side, rising from the ground as to join its sisters.
Seven Cities, all in one place. A feeling of completion washed over Esteban, a feeling of satisfaction like he's never known before. They've saved the world, and it would never forget it.
Outside the realm of their comprehension, yet not too far from here, a third pair of eyes watched the seventh City rise into the sky.
“To the world ending, and a new one beginning.”
With a knowing chuckle, the redhead turned around and returned to his laboratory.
ok là j'ai fini.
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