Rho’uk could not say for certain which of the doctrine held the most truth for him. His uncertainty in the matter was something that had always disturbed him. The Rai Chi defined themselves through worship and dedication to their belief. Though he served and sought to honor the Gods with his every action, he also found himself conflicted in his faith by questions about Them. Questions that filled him with shame. It was not his place to doubt the Gods or Their motives. And yet he still did. His father had been devout in his own belief, deriving strength from his faith in the Gods’ purpose for him and for all beings. Rho’uk envied that certainty.
Seek your own truth.
He had not understood his father’s last words to him at the time of his death, and so many years later, their meaning had grown no clearer. Was it truth in the Gods? Or himself? Was there even a truth to be had? Or was it simply beyond the scope of mere flesh and blood to grasp. Perhaps his father had found that truth upon his death. Perhaps one day, when his own time came, he would as well.
Rho’uk brought himself back to the present, staring down at their destination from the observation deck of the disguised carrier that had delivered them to it. The unnatural form of Solta’s single megacity, which covered half the moon’s surface, was visible even from space. Somewhere within the crowded metropolis, amidst its complex, multi-layered levels of infrastructure, was their target. The
heretic
. One who was somehow a threat to the Gods.
A coming storm
. Again, he considered the gravity of the Overseer’s words. Could the prophecies be true? Was there a storm coming? Were the Gods indeed returning? They were questions he had been asking himself over and over since receiving their new orders. Though he had not allowed himself to be swept up in the excitement of the apparent revelation, as many of his clansmen had, he couldn’t help but feel intrigued by its possible ramifications. What if it
was
true?
He let his eyes wander back to the ringed world, looming ominously over its moon. Turaus, ever watchful for His enemies. Ironic that their mission should bring them here to the world named for their creator. Or was it divine providence? Some believed that nothing occurred without purpose. That all outcomes were predetermined, the
will
of the Gods.
Rho’uk considered the possibility of his own destiny, something he pondered on quite frequently. Was it chance that had brought him here, or fate? It would seem on the surface to be a simple question of one’s perspective on the matter, yet in truth, the answer was the key to unraveling the greatest mystery. Chance required there to be an unstructured randomness to the Universe, a direct contradiction to all that the Gods represented. By their own definitions, fate and chance could not coexist. If one was true, the other had to be false. The question was, which was true?
There were many variables, factors and possibilities in the Universe. Yet, as many places as his journey could have taken him, the simple fact of the matter was he had still arrived
here
. Reality was what
was
, not what
could
have been. Following that logic, one could surmise that it
was
his fate to be here, regardless of what could have been, as this was where his path had ultimately led him. This was part of his destiny and the
will
of the Gods.
Or perhaps it was only chance.
Frustrated by his own inconclusive, circular thoughts, he focused his attention on the orbiting vessels growing ever closer through the viewport. They would merge into one of the orbital lanes alongside them and wait for an entry window, making no attempt to assert themselves as an authoritative force. The Rai Chi were not a branch of some blunt militaristic regime, serving meaningless bureaucratic agendas. They were the chosen servants of Turaus, acting as His spear against the enemies of the Gods. They struck from the darkness like shadows, disappearing again from whence they came, leaving little trace. They were feared across all worlds, though few knew scarcely anything about them. It was that shroud of mysticism that made people fear them. So too now, they would slip unnoticed into the commotion of the world below, snatching up this supposed heretic, and vanish again like the spirits they were thought to be.
Centered on the task ahead, Rho’uk stared out at the ringed world once more, his mind finally growing calm and quiet. Turaus would lead him to the answers he sought. This mission was the beginning. He felt sure of it. The truth would come to him through his worship. He was a Rai Chi warrior and lived to serve the Gods. This was his purpose. His destiny.
And serve Them he would.
Chapter 9
Elora woke to find Ethan sitting in the flight seat of their recently acquired vessel, his hands on the controls. The sight was a bit confusing and she tried to wipe the sleepy haze from her mind. Sitting up straight in her seat, she looked around to see Jarred sitting in the seat to Ethan’s left, apparently guiding him through the use of the vessel’s controls.
Taking a moment to focus her thoughts, she looked out the front viewport and instantly realized that they were still in flight, seeing an endless blue sky, small wisps of clouds passing by now and then. They must have entered into Solta’s atmosphere while she was dozing. She sat up suddenly, a greater revelation hitting her as she realized that her little brother was actually the one
flying
the ship.
“That’s right,” Jarred was saying, encouragingly. “You’re getting it.”
Elora jerked her head back over to Jarred and Ethan and saw her brother smile faintly at his own progress, a look of determined concentration on his face.
“You’re a natural,” Jarred proclaimed, glancing back to see that Elora was awake and watching them both. “Hey, look who’s up. Just in time.”
Ethan looked over at his sister and Jarred gave him a tap on the shoulder. “Hey, eyes on the sky, captain.”
“Oh, yeah,” Ethan answered, turning back around.
Elora sat up in her seat, looking from Ethan to Jarred. Her brother seemed to be doing alright. After all, they weren’t plummeting to their deaths, but still, the thought of Ethan navigating them through the sky in a space worthy vessel didn’t quite sit well with her.
“Should he be doing that?” she asked Jarred, quietly.
He looked nonchalantly towards Ethan and shrugged his shoulders.
“Sure, he’s fine,” he answered, waving a dismissive hand in the air before leaning back in his seat and folding both hands behind his head. “There’s nothing to it.”
The comm suddenly crackled to life, a human voice coming over the channel. “
Trycon Airspace Control to incoming vessel
, Fancy Girl, please respond.”
Elora noticed Jarred cock his head in an expression that seemed to be a cross between confusion and embarrassment as he mouthed the vessel name that had just been transmitted over the comm.
Ethan, at the helm, automatically reached for the comm controls, responding enthusiastically to the voice on the other end. “Hello, Airspace Control.”
Jarred, looking surprised and amused, turned back to the controls quickly and silenced the comm. “I’ll handle the talking,” he suggested to Ethan. “You just keep your eyes on the sky.” He gave him a wink and then flicked the comm back on.
“Airspace Control, this is the . . .
Fancy Girl
, requesting landing clearance.” He clicked off the comm and shot Elora a look. “Remind me to replace the transponder with a better name when we land.”
“Why?” Elora asked, trying not to smile. “What’s wrong with this one?”
“Oh, nothing,” Jarred answered her. “It’s just great.” He shook his head. “I feel like I’m flying around in someone’s sweet sixteen present.”
Elora shrugged her shoulders at him. “Well, maybe you should be more careful when purchasing transponders in the future?”
He gave her a mock laugh in return. “You think?”
“
Fancy Girl
,” the controller came back, “
Please stand by for docking instructions
.”
Jarred looked over to Ethan. “Mind if I take it from here?”
Ethan glanced back at Jarred only slightly, still quite focused on his task, then nodded.
Jarred quickly routed control of the ship over to his own flight terminal and took hold of the control stick, Elora breathing a quiet sigh of relief as he did. The idea of her little brother navigating something of this magnitude left her feeling more than a little uneasy.
As they began to descend, the clouds thinned and the faint outlines of towers and tall buildings began to come into view.
“Here we are,” Jarred announced. “Trycon City.”
Elora sat up in her seat to look out through the viewport and was instantly taken aback, her breath swelling in her chest. The rising sun cast its light onto the reflective surfaces of the thousands of tall buildings and structures that covered the city, bouncing between them and painting everything in shimmering shades of orange, yellow and gold. The towers seemed to stretch on forever into distance, hundreds, if not thousands, of ships and shuttles traveling back and forth across the numerous sky lanes below, like flocks of metallic birds.
“It’s beautiful,” Elora murmured. “I never imagined . . .” She let her words trail off, unable to vocalize all that she was feeling. She had of course heard of Trycon and other great cities like it, but as a nomad refugee, had never traveled to any of them.
“Sure, from up here,” Jarred informed her. “Down there, dirty, corrupt and overcrowded.”
“It’s still better than any place we’ve ever been,” she countered. And it was. She’d traveled to so many slimy holes over the years, they all made this place seem like paradise.
“
Vessel
,
Fancy Girl
,” the comm crackled to life again. “
You are granted landing clearance at docking port two-one-seven
.”
“Copy that, Airspace Control,” Jarred answered. “Docking Port two-one-seven.”
As Jarred switched off the comm, Elora couldn’t help but smile. “
Fancy Girl
,” she repeated, mulling the name over. “It’s really a very nice name for a ship. I think you should keep it.” Unable to keep a straight face she then broke out in laughter, Ethan quickly joining her as he repeated the name aloud himself.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jarred piped in. “It’s hysterical.”
Jarred turned away while shaking his head at them both, but Elora caught the slight grin that had also come to his face and she smiled broadly.
Jarred piloted the ship deeper into the city’s core, the now visible lower levels buzzing with activity, and merged them into one of the busy sky lanes. Transports whizzed by them in blurs of color, weaving in and out of lanes, blaring honks of annoyance coming from some of the other slower pilots.
Elora watched out her side viewport as they descended towards and into their designated docking port, numerous vessels arriving and departing through its large open bay door. As they passed through the opening themselves, it felt to her as if they were passing into a new life. A better life.
Her mind whirled with the possibilities that awaited them just outside their ship’s hull, and she was suddenly filled with a feeling she hadn’t known in a very, very long time.
Hope.
* * *
It only took a few minutes for Jarred to jack into Trycon’s public databank on the ship’s computer and locate the place detailed on the passcard given to him by the dying man at Wasteland.
It was a block residential unit, located in the bowels of the city, according to the schematic being displayed by the computer’s holographic imager. Apparently, Sierra Lore would be waiting there to take Orna off his hands.
Though he was more than ready to hand the mysterious being over to whoever might be willing to have her, he didn’t like the idea of walking into anything blindly. He didn’t know anything about this person he was supposed to be meeting with, except for the fact that she wouldn’t be expecting
him
to be the one delivering Orna. Not liking surprises himself, he wasn’t sure of how she would react.
All the more reason to be prepared. Switching off the holo imager, he loaded a freshly charged power pack into each of his small forearm pistols, fastening them to their holsters and retracting them both up into his sleeves. Turning to leave the flight deck, he snatched up his sheathed sword from one of the copilot seats before moving through the open hatch and into the main hold. He strapped the sword to his back and spared a glance over to the hold’s only other occupant, being struck again by the same, strange feeling of familiarity he always felt in her presence.