Maia and the Xifarian Conspiracy (The Lightbound Saga Book 1) (17 page)

“How was the theme room?” Maia asked, forcing some false cheer into her voice.

“Oh, it was all right, just some multi-dimensional movies of Damaluus,” Kusha waved his hand in quick dismissal. “But you won’t believe this . . . we ran into His Royal Highness.”

“Miir?” Nafi looked up. “Did you say hello?”

“I waved at His Highness for . . . quite a while,” Dani informed.

“And why do you call your mentor that?” Hans asked Dani, throwing a questioning gaze around.

A wave of laughter spread across the table.

“Because, my dear brother, the only response I got after waving at him frantically was a pitiful half smile.”

“At least he smiled at you,” Kusha added. “He barely even looked in my direction. I could have been invisible standing right next to you.”

Before Hans could open his mouth to ask the next question, the group broke into an animated conversation about their various encounters with the mentor. By the time Hans was abreast with all matters, everyone had done justice to the food.

Hans tapped his chin. “I understand why you would want to name him so. But I still want to meet him sometime to thank him for the arrangements he made for tonight.” He frowned at the looks of disdain being exchanged across the table. “Well, he went out of his way to clear all the paperwork so I could take you out on such short notice.”

“Going out of his way?” Maia was a little hesitant to give credit so easily. “I don’t know about that. Maybe all mentors are expected to do this for their teams.”

“I would still like to thank him, if you don’t mind,” Hans insisted, an amused smile lingering on his lips. “You know, he even made the reservations here for me. That couldn’t have been easy since the Moon Harvest is almost always booked months in advance.”

His wish came true when they walked out of the restaurant after the bill had been taken care of. In the dance studio next door, a group of seniors from the XDA, including Miir, sat chatting. Maia recognized the two Circle Four students who had stopped their fight with Lex’s gang, and she now realized how the news of the brawl had reached Miir so fast.

“He seems cheerful today,” commented Nafi.

Heads turned and necks craned to catch a glimpse of an uncharacteristically jovial and charming Miir talking to an attractive red-haired girl. Maia remembered the girl as the host from the TEK Club tryouts. As soon as Miir saw them staring, his demeanor changed. He murmured something to his companion and started to walk toward Hans and the group.

“I wonder why he dislikes us so much,” said Kusha. “Did you notice how his expression changed when he saw us?”

“Humph,” observed Nafi.

“He’s afraid that we will ask irrelevant personal questions,” Maia remarked.

“Shush, he’ll hear us,” whispered Dani.

“Give him a break, guys. He’s like any other boy, he has friends and . . . a girlfriend,” Hans murmured, all the while smiling widely at the approaching figure.

“That is
precisely
the problem,” Dani whispered back. Maia tittered inside. It was strange, but fun to see Dani so bubbly. Obviously, her brother’s presence brought out bits of her lively personality, which she seemed to conceal under a veneer of shyness. “You see, he’s
not
like any other boy. He’s the invincible and the indisputable Miir, exceptional and unique.”

With a hearty laugh, Hans stepped forward toward Miir. Dani followed to introduce them to each other while the rest of the group chose to watch from a respectable distance. Miir seemed amiable as he conversed with Dani and her brother. After enough pleasantries had been exchanged, Hans and the group headed back to the XDA.

Hans dropped them off before going on his way to Armezai, the capital of Xif. That night, even as Maia sat reminiscing the happy evening, she could not forget the argument about the Exchange. She felt a growing sense of fear—fear that the past might catch up with her soon.

27: In the Dyosican Hangar

Kusha spotted the change in their daily routine when they were handed the new month’s schedules. They were to meet at Dyosican Hangar A every day for the entire month. Most other sessions had been rearranged or cut by half, and all of the spillover time pushed into lengthy meets at the same hangar.

“Kehorkjin doesn’t have any time at all,” Kusha observed. “Only a few scattered spots at the Design Studios.”

“Awwww, looks like you miss him already,” Nafi said with a smirk.

“Must be the flight training then,” Maia concluded.

“You’re right, Maia,” Ren said. “They will probably announce it soon.”

While the contestants had been waiting eagerly for the flight training sessions, no announcements had come their way. Now that the timetables had changed, the group grew restless. The upcoming flight lessons were soon confirmed by a particularly foul-tempered Miir that cold evening.

“I hope everyone here is aware that flight training starts this week,” he said, his eyes seeking evidence of such knowledge in the faces surrounding him. “In the sphere of space and spacecraft, Xifarian technology is counted among the best in the known universe, so I suggest that you make good use of this opportunity and learn as much as you can.

“Remember, it takes years for anyone to gain mastery of flying crafts. In the little time you will be given, do not hope to be an expert, just focus on winning as a team,” he continued in his usual inhospitable tone. “I would also like to remind you that I have always been the best in all Circles, and I expect no less from you. I want you to be among the final twenty at least.”

Maia tried to resist the temptation to ask questions, as did everyone else. They had all learned not to talk to their mentor unless absolutely necessary, and that plan had worked well. There had been no fireworks or disasters lately. It was questionable whether Miir added any value as their mentor and guide except for teaching them restraint of speech. In Nafi’s case, that was probably a good thing to learn. For Maia, restraint did not work either. Miir seemed to dislike her with his heart and soul, and she always found herself at the receiving end of his sarcasm. He circled his way around a conversation to criticize her, even if it meant digging out some past transgression, and her questions or comments, no matter how simple, always drew ridicule. This particular evening was no exception.

“It has to be a pretty big hangar to have all of us trained at one time, especially with flying crafts,” Maia made the mistake of whispering to Dani a little too loudly.

“I fail to see how
that
information would affect your learning in any way. However, I do see that your lack of focus or your focus on the wrong things will ruin your prospects. Honestly, I do not care how you choose to wreck yourself, but be very careful of any potential threat you may pose to the success of the team,” Miir lectured with a generous helping of derision. “And if I may add, being so frivolous will not sit well with Flight Master Demissie.”

“Is there anything in particular that we should prepare for?” Kusha tried to lighten the rapidly stiffening atmosphere.

“Try to be very alert, try to sharpen your senses, and get rid of the habit of thinking of yourself as highly as some of you do.” Miir threw a meaningful frown in Maia’s direction. “And most importantly, try to speak only when you are spoken to.”

***

On the first day of Flight Training, the group started early, not wanting to be the last ones to join the session. From the latest buzz in the dining room, the Flight Master was not to be taken lightly. The walk was long. The hangar was located at the southern tip of the campus. The puniest little door with “Dyosican Hangar A” imprinted around the Royal Crest welcomed the excited group.

The room that lay on the other side of the door was beyond enormous. The Hall of Spires paled in comparison to this hangar, which, according to Dani, could house about twenty such halls inside it. The entire floor had an ethereal sheen, its luminous glow enhanced by the way it was lit up from underneath. The whole room was bare and empty except for a few anxious contestants gathered along its left edge. A series of markers hung on the wall, signifying the space allotted to each team, and Maia and her friends quietly made their way to marker 21.

Their wait was short. The door opened, and a man came striding in, his long, dark red robe flowing behind him. His amber skin glowed in the warm light of the hangar, his high cheekbones and a sharp, somewhat angular nose stood out on his attractive face. He walked to the center of the gathering, flipped the dark cascade of hair that hung just above his shoulders in carefully styled curls, and turned around to face the assembly. His dark and lucid brown eyes made a smooth and appraising sweep over the congregation.

“I am Master Demissie and I will instruct you in the basics of spatial flight,” he said. “Flight drives the Xifarian way of life. It is our heritage and legacy, the passion of every citizen of this planet. And starting today, you will get a glimpse of it.”

Maia gulped as butterflies danced a wild gig in her stomach.

“And now, we need a volunteer for the Cylopede Challenge,” the master’s eyes scanned the crowd. Maia leaned over to ask Ren about the Cylopede.

“It’s a basic vehicle, one of the first crafts every trainee here is expected to master. It requires extreme control and balance—”

He stopped mid-sentence when the door of the hangar flew open noisily. Lex and his gang stomped in guffawing, and then froze as they realized that the session had already started.

“So, who do we have here?” inquired Master Demissie, walking toward the door.

“I am Lex and I—”

“And you specialize in being late. Maybe you have other talents as well,” the master teased. “Let’s find out. You shall be my volunteer. Please step forward.”

28: Freefall

All eyes were on Lex as he took unenthusiastic steps forward, his face ashen. At the beckoning of the Flight Master, a pair of large robots with spindly, dangly limbs rolled in a machine shaped like the crescent of a moon to the center of the room. Rising from the lower tip of the crescent was a sturdy metal rod. It ended in a small seat that faced the center of the craft. The machine was widest at its middle, the central section wide enough to fit two people behind it. This broad part also housed a small console full of tiny buttons and a puny steering stick. From this console to the upper tip, the body of the machine was transparent, creating a window for the pilot.

“This is a Cylopede, or a Pede, as most of the students here like to call it,” said Flight Master Demissie, pointing at the semi-circular machine. “It is a simple craft, and you can achieve basic control just by understanding the machine’s nuances. And that is what I want to teach you today. I want to see if you are able to figure out its secrets.”

A small smile adorned his face as he turned toward Lex.

“Sir Lex here will try this particular one, and we will hopefully have some insight into its functioning. This craft has motors that can drive in any direction, but for our little exercise, we will not use any of those.”

He paused momentarily before nodding at Lex who stood frozen, his forehead glistening with perspiration.

“Will you please take a seat on the Cylopede?”

Lex clambered up the stationary Pede and sat on the small raised seat. He did not have much time to get comfortable before the machine started to rise slowly, stopping about halfway to the ceiling. It remained suspended briefly in midair, and then plunged toward the ground. Maia gasped in terror as she realized the intent of the exercise; this free fall was the focus of the demonstration. Faster and faster he fell, until the Cylopede was level with the master’s eyes. Then it stopped as abruptly as it had started falling.

Maia blinked, too agitated to believe that the craft had actually stopped. She had half expected it to crash on the floor in a squashed heap. For a moment she thought that Lex had managed to find a way to make it stop, until she saw Master Demissie wave the small controller stick at the craft. It was in fact the master who had started and stopped the Pede, and now he brought it to a slow and complete rest on the floor. Lex, however, did not make it to the ground in the Pede. Just before the craft touched down, he dropped out of the seat and fell face-first on the floor. He immediately scrambled to his feet, put his hands to his mouth, and scampered out of the hangar.

A giggle rose from deep inside Maia, too fast for her to be aware of its presence, let alone try to suppress it. The obnoxious Lex had finally been taught a lesson that he would remember for life. Her laughter vanished when she saw the stares from around the assembly. Master Demissie’s fluid eyes were fixed on her, and an amused smile played on his lips as he beckoned her toward him. Maia’s heart sank, the brief moment of absolute joy fast disappearing into oblivion.

“Miss Maia,” the master peered at her name tag as she took hesitant steps forward, “it seems like you shall show us the path to enlightenment.”

“But, I don’t . . . know . . . h-how,” Maia mumbled, her gaze fixed on her feet.

“Precisely,” was his simple reply.

Maia did not have much hope of getting off the hook. She needed a miracle to be able to keep the monstrosity afloat. If she failed, a report would definitely reach Master Kehorkjin as well as her mentor. That was not an option; she could not endure yet another lecture from Miir explaining how worthless she was, and she did not particularly like the idea of drawing her team into a chiding session with Master Kehorkjin either.

Slowly, she hoisted herself on the seat. It was hard enough to sit steadily on the machine even while it was stationary, and Maia wondered how she would hang on to the Cylopede while it was in motion. The crowd around her watched with interest; her teammates looked anxious, many seemed thoroughly entertained, and some were debating among themselves as to how long she would last on the Pede.

“If you are ready, I will raise the Pede,” said the master.

Maia nodded as she tightly grabbed the rungs that stuck out on both sides of the console. The machine took off with a lurch. The faces below her grew progressively smaller as the craft continued rising, until it stopped about midway between the ceiling and the floor. Maia inhaled deeply, savoring the brief pause. The very next moment, the contraption fell like a stone sinking in water.

Sitting on the Pede was not an issue if she could ignore the weightlessness, the rush of the air, the boulders hurtling through her stomach, and most importantly, the fear of a humiliating landing on the floor. Even knowing that they might not work, Maia quickly ran her fingers over some of the buttons on the console and pulled the steering stick.

Nothing changed, except that while twisting her body forward to reach the console and balancing herself on the narrow seat, she slipped and fell headfirst into the transparent front of the Cylopede. Before she could steady herself, she felt the craft slow down a little.

Maia’s brain whirred and among the frenzy of thoughts, an idea stood out—that maybe the slowdown was due to her falling forward. With very little time to spare and the ground approaching fast, she decided to try it again. Holding herself as securely as possible, she cautiously leaned forward toward the console. Like magic, the craft slowed down again.

Maia’s heart did a happy somersault. Sluggish as it had become, the Pede was still nowhere close to stopping, and there was only one thing left to do. Gripping the edges of the Cylopede tightly, Maia stood up on the narrow platform and slanted her body forward, over the console, until her forehead touched the curved window. The Pede went slower and slower until it came to a halt, midair, not far from the floor of the hangar. It was only then that Maia felt the cold sweat that had formed on her palms.

She had a vague sense of the motors starting below her. The Pede descended gently to the shiny floor, and someone helped her down from her seat as the craft came to a rest. She heard the indistinct applause and felt the pats on her back as she made her way back to her cheering teammates.

“And
that
was an excellent demonstration of understanding a craft that carries you,” Master Demissie’s voice sounded very distant. “Amid the panic of a freefall, this young lady tried to understand the dynamics of the machine, and she did it right.

“Now, it’s your turn. As soon as they bring out a few more Pedes, you will try them out. Of course, you will not be raised as high, and the motors will be running, so there is no need to put on those scared faces.”

Maia watched the master’s tall figure approach as she stood against the wall, still waiting for her heartbeat to slow down to normal.

“Outstanding demonstration, Maia,” he said very softly, bending down to look into her eyes. “I do not see this kind of performance very often. I have to admit, you did not make the best first impression on me, and I did not expect you to do so well.”

Maia stood smiling to herself even after the master left to attend to the pandemonium that had begun to erupt around the hangar. She spent a few more moments relishing her success before trying to locate her teammates. Kusha and Dani had walked off to try out one of the Pedes, while on another side Nafi stood with her arms crossed, foot tapping, glaring at Ren who was busy chatting with a group of boys.

Maia stepped forward to investigate. “What’s going on?” she asked.

Nafi’s face contorted in disgust. “That despicable boy is never up to any good.” She waved her finger furiously in the direction of Ren and his cronies. “He was . . . betting.”

“Betting?” Maia gawked.

“Yes.”

“On me?”

“Of course. What better way to make some quick money?”

As Maia looked on wide-eyed, Ren completed collecting his funds and walked over to the two girls. On seeing Maia, he grinned sheepishly.

“You were betting on me?” Maia asked, “While I was hanging up there in thin air?”

Ren shrugged and grinned again. “What’s wrong with that?” he asked, receiving a disapproving silence. “I did put my money on you not crashing. And, girl, you sure made me proud.”

“Ren!” Maia threw her arms in the air in frustration as Nafi rolled her eyes.

“Well, serves those idiots right, losing their money for not believing in you.” Ren made a face at his gambling buddies and then ran off to join Kusha and Dani.

“Wonderful friends I have,” Maia sighed, and Nafi gave her another telling glance before following Ren.

After a long day of flying, with more screaming and falling than actual flying, Maia could barely drag herself back from the hangar to her room that evening. They were all exhausted. In addition to scraping their arms and legs, banging their heads against walls and consoles, and being shouted at by the Flight Master, they also got into fights among themselves.

Nafi was sure that she could have achieved a perfect balance had it not been for Kusha who slipped from his machine and tipped hers over. Not only did Kusha dismiss her claims, but he also had the nerve to allege that it was actually Nafi who had lost control and veered too close to him, causing the whole fiasco. Kusha seemed to be in the middle of all trouble—he shared with Dani some tips to balance the craft, which did not work as he had claimed they would. In the process of trying them out, Dani fell. Then, as people around her snickered, she cried.

That evening, over a mostly silent dinner, Ren ventured to explain that Dani was so used to being perfect at everything, the trauma of not being so good at something might have had a profound effect on her mental health. At that comment, Dani walked away from the table with more tears trickling down her face.