“Did we make it?” Ethan asked, breaking the group’s silence.
No one replied right away, the fear that a sudden barrage of laser blasts would start tearing into them at any moment, most likely on all of their minds. Kern took the moment to run a quick systems check.
“Shields arrays are gone,” he reported, scanning the report on his display. “Same with the scanners and long range comm relays. But no serious hull damage or breaches.” That confirmed, he set the ship into a slow bank, bringing them around for a view of the destruction behind them. Plumes of smoke rose from the still crumbling super skyscraper, dozens of assault craft circling in and out of the area, searching for their remains no doubt.
“I think so, kid,” Jarred said, finally answering Ethan’s question. “I think so.” Another moment passed.
“Kern?” he asked. “How would you like to take us out of here?”
“It would be my
great
pleasure,” Kern answered, possibly never having spoken truer words.
Putting them into a steep climb, he ascended clear of the partially erected towers and skycranes, clear of their Sect pursuers and the Gaian mega city, and made haste for the stars.
Chapter 44
BORDER SPACE,
INFINITY STATION
An isolated relic at the far edge of Dominion space,
Infinity Station
was one of, if not
the
furthest manned habitat, in functioning order, from the system core, which also made it one of the safest places anyone looking to lay low was likely to find. Jarred was relieved that Sierra and Kern had friends in such a place.
Nearly two weeks had passed since they had rescued him from the clutches of the Sect, in the heart of the Gaian capitol no less, most of that time having been spent putting as much distance between themselves and the Dominion Homeworld as possible, traveling well beyond the outermost colonies before finally making berth at the small, aging space station. It’s remote locale and relative obscurity had offered secure haven for the exhausted group, something each and every one of them was in dire need of and grateful for, considering what they had been through over the passed month. It had given them the time they all needed to recharge and recuperate, as well as
reflect
on the things they had witnessed . . . and experienced.
Sitting on the flight deck of the
Fancy Girl
; the vessel was still in dire need of a transponder change; which was securely anchored to one of the station’s umbilical boarding arms, Jarred found himself doing just that, as he gazed out the front viewport into, what was commonly referred to across the Dominion as, The Great Expanse. The incommutable void that stretched between the outer border of this solar system and the nearest of stars. It was much like looking out over the edge of a cliff, he supposed, the sensation intensified by a magnitude that was exponentially greater obviously, though the visual was more symbolic than anything. The matte black, star pocked background that was space generally looked the same from wherever you were in it, including the outer boundary of the solar system.
Yet still, he imagined the sight may have left some feeling rather small and insignificant. Dark, cold and empty, The Great Expanse was the ultimate example of how isolated they all really were. Amongst the Universe’s multitude of galaxies and the almost infinite number of solar systems that comprised each of them, they were but one. One small speck of light in all of the blackness, unable to cross the distance that divided them from the other specks, at least not in a single being’s life span. Even surrounded by millions of other star systems, possibly with life and civilizations of their own, they were alone.
Much as Jarred had been for the better part of his recalled life. He had always preferred it that way. A solitary existence, with only himself to worry about. It was safer. Less complicated. Peaceful even. If there was a peace to be found in this world. He supposed that was why the sight filled him, not with unease or discomfort, but with a sense of calm. Sitting out in the middle of the void, far from everything and anyone, he felt as though he could finally breath again. Something else he was grateful for after the events of the passed number of weeks.
It was strange to think of how much things had changed in that short time. The whirlwind series of events that had occurred to bring him to this place. How had it all happened? He had been keeping to his own business, collecting on a fairly routine bounty . . . and then he had made one misstep. One action outside of his own code and against his better judgment. He had gotten involved in another person’s business. It had seemed a minor thing at the time, but from that one action,
everything
had spiraled out of control, a chain reaction of worsening invents, until he was in so deep there seemed to be no way to stop the momentum. Now, he was on the run. Part of a wanted terrorist faction, as false as that spin was, and a wanted fugitive of the Sect Dominion. The life he had been living, one forged by himself, seemed a distant memory now that he could not get back.
And yet something in him had also been changed by it all. Not only in the physical changes he was undertaking, as much a mystery to him as was his past, but in his own perceptions as well. An alliance with Sierra and Kern, a necessity at the time of their meeting, had developed into something unexpected. A friendship. And in Elora and Ethan, he had found something more. Something he wasn’t quite ready to put a name to yet, but was not recoiling from either. Both things he would have beat a hasty retreat from before. Now . . . he found himself almost welcoming them. For certain, he wasn’t looking to run from them. And that was definitely something new.
Tearing his gaze from the endless star field, Jarred turned his attention back to the nav station he was seated at, noting that the download he had prompted was complete. He looked over the list of system wide mapping coordinates again, satisfied with what he had collected. Now that Ethan and Elora were safe, he could continue on the journey he had begun in the depths of the Soltan mountains. One that he had felt beckoning him forward since being united with the sword buried deep within the rock. The Hybrid Sword, as Orna had called it. It was a journey that, he hoped, would lead him to some answers. Answers to the questions that had plagued him for so long. To the mystery of his past. And to who . . . or
what
. . . he truly was. He had run from the questions for long enough. He wouldn’t do so any longer. Whatever answers were waiting for him, he was determined to face them. Of course, being ready to embark on the journey was only the first step. It always helped to know which direction you were headed. He didn’t have much to go on, based on the frozen setting he had dreamt of, but the list on the nav display would be a good starting point.
Removing the datacard he had transferred the coordinates to, he stood and looked around the flight deck, taking in the array of control stations, communication suites and diagnostic terminals, all backing onto the unique lowered flight cockpit. It had carried him through the better part of his journey so far and had played an instrumental role in saving his life, as well as everyone else’s. It really was an extraordinary ship. He would miss it. Slipping the datacard into his satchel, Jarred turned and exited through the rear hatch, and found Orna waiting for him in the main hold, as he knew she would be.
Though admittedly, he still understood very little about the strange being, he had learned enough to know when to expect one of her cryptic conversations. Truthfully, he still had many questions for her, and though they were finally about to part ways, he suspected he would not receive the answers. At least not all of them. That was obviously Orna’s way. She had only ever told him enough to keep him wondering, looking for his own answers. In the end, he supposed that was what she had been trying to get him to do all along. To follow his own path and find the answers for himself. Though it had frustrated him to no end, he had come to understand her intent, and appreciate it as well. It was what he needed to push him in the right direction, or for him to at least
choose
a direction for himself, instead of doing everything in his power to avoid it. And now he had finally made that choice, for better or worse. A path. One that he planned to follow through to conclusion.
After a long moment of silent observation of one another, both no doubt looking at the other in a newer light; or perhaps it was only Jarred that was now seeing everything differently, including himself; he spoke first, as usual.
“I was expecting this conversation to happen sooner,” he confessed.
Orna blinked, an expression Jarred had come to associate with curiosity on her part, feigned or genuine he wasn’t sure. “It could not have happened sooner than now,” she returned. “Nothing can happen before its time. It had to wait until you were ready. And now that you are . . . the time has come.”
Jarred held back a laugh, but let his smile show openly. He supposed he should have expected the response, or something like it. “I guess you’re right.” There was more silence as he considered everything he wanted to say. To ask.
“You have questions?” Orna probed.
“I do,” he answered her. “Many. But do you have answers?”
“That is a question by itself,” she replied. “And in answer, it would depend on the question asked. I also have questions. Perhaps it is fair that for each of yours, one of mine is answered as well.”
That caught Jarred by surprise. “
You
have questions . . . of
me
?”
“Can I not?” Orna queried.
“No,” he allowed. “I mean, yes. You can, of course. That’s fair enough.”
She nodded. “Then let us begin.”
When Orna did not speak further, but only continued to stare at him with her dark, unblinking eyes, Jarred concluded that she was now expecting him to start . . . or continue, as it were. Taking a breath, he considered the many questions that had been consuming his thoughts and settled on his first question.
“First thing’s first,” he began. “You’re one of the Prophets.” It wasn’t really a question, but a statement.
“Is this a question?” she returned.
“No,” Jarred said. “I saw the others in the temple . . . like you. But I want to hear you say it.”
Orna blinked slowly and gave him a slight nod, a gesture he took be one of acceptance. “Very well. I am a Prophet.”
“The
rogue
Prophet,” he corrected.
“If that is what they are calling me,” she answered.
“It is,” Jarred went on. “Heretic also.” He watched Orna for any sign of emotional reaction, but as usual saw none.
“Does this trouble you?” she asked.
“That depends on your intentions,” Jarred returned. “Why did you leave?” When she didn’t immediately respond, he went on. “What were you running from?”
“I was not running
from
anything,” Orna answered. “I was following the path before me, as we must all do. It led me away from the Prophets. It led me to you.”
“For what purpose?” Jarred pressed.
“I believe it is my turn to ask a question,” she returned, instead of answering him.
Jarred sighed, heavily. “Alright. Ask”
“In the temple,” she began, “do you know what it was you faced?”
Jarred considered the question. It was one he had been asking himself since first seeing the dark being as it emerged from the strange portal within the temple audience chamber. Recalling the image sent a cold chill up his spine. “It . . . was powerful,” he answered her. “And dark. But I don’t know what it was.” He met Orna’s gaze. “Do you?”
“I do,” she replied, simply.
When Orna didn’t elaborate further, Jarred continued. “Well, what was it?”
“I believe I have already answered your question,” she stated. “Now you must answer mine.”
Jarred began to feel his annoyance with the small being growing once more. “Fine.”
“What do
you
believe it was?” she asked.
Scowling, Jarred took in what should have been a calming breath, though he didn’t feel his aggravation lessen any. “That’s the same question I just asked you.”
“No,” Orna corrected him. “It is
not
.”
“Like I said, I don’t
know
what it was.”
“I did not ask you
what
it was. I asked what you
believe
it was.”
Seeing she would not budge on the matter, he replies, letting his frustration come through in his tone. “It doesn’t matter what I believe.”
Orna’s head tilted slightly, an almost quizzical look. “But it does. What you believe defines your reality.”