Chapter Four

Chapter Four


Date unknown

Time unknown


Kalarian Orbit



SVETLANA HAD SEEN many magnificent sights in her life. She’d followed her father up the steps of the Winter Palace in Pushkin, the sound of freshly fallen snow crunching beneath her boots as she stared wide-eyed at the palace’s pristine, white exterior. She’d relished the scent of pine needles and birch trees from the shores of Lake Baikal, the August winds of the mountain taigas caressing her face as she air-dried from a dip. She’d gazed in wonder at the morning sun as it rose over her uncle’s farm in Vilnius, its orange and pink hues ushering in an endless blue sky.

None of it compared to the Kalarael homeworld. As Svetlana floated in microgravity at the front of the Noboat’s bridge, her eyes glued to the view screen that revealed the planet, the only thought in her mind was, I have never seen anything more beautiful.

Much like Earth, the planet’s two primary colors were green and blue—though there seemed far more landmass than water on this world. Beneath the white clouds in Kalar’s atmosphere, she could see mountain ranges, desert regions, and vibrant, lush expanses of green—even patches of pink, as strange a contrast as that was. But what truly took Svetlana’s breath away was not something on the surface.

It was Kalar’s rings.

There were three distinct discs to the ring system, each one reflecting a light shade of brown. While they may have been particles of ice and dust, they looked nothing short of magical. As she stared at that marbled world—that planet that looked like a paradise amongst the stars—she suddenly felt small. This was a whole world of beings that had never heard of humanity. Not of its wars, its trials, its religions. It was an entirely separate center of its own galaxy.

Far behind her on the bridge, Yigôzien spoke with awe in her voice. Svetlana didn’t need a connection to know what she was saying. The one word that stood out—the one word she understood—was the only one that mattered.

Kalar.

Kalar, indeed.

From helm control, the guttural voice of Tauthin cut Svetlana’s thoughts short. “I have detected several space stations in orbit around the planet, though none are in visible range. There are also numerous spacecraft in the vicinity.”

“Get close enough to put them on screen,” Svetlana said. “I will have Yigôzien point out which one she intends us to land on.”

“Unless of course,” the Bakma said, “she intends to land directly on the surface.”

Svetlana scoffed. “And infect this planet with our germs? She does not know what effect our presence on the planet would cause. For all we know, we might possess a bacteria that destroys all life.”

“The risk of that is infinitesimal.”

“It is still not one I am willing to take.” While there’d been nothing outwardly indicative from the Kalarael showing that they were harboring some deadly human bacteria, Svetlana wasn’t going to take the chance that something wasn’t lurking beneath their skin. Landing on a space station would be her first choice. That way, if there was a disease outbreak, it’d be limited to the station and not that beautiful, ringed world. As Tauthin manipulated the controls to bring the Noboat closer to the space stations, Svetlana turned to look at her Kalarael friend. “Show us,” she said, gesturing Yigôzien closer, then pointing at the view screen. Using her hand, she mimicked the sight of a spaceship landing.

Unfortunately for all of them, Ed was in no shape to provide them with a connection. Though the Ithini had woken up since his latest traumatic mental experience, he was resting in the corner of the bridge, tucked down beneath a console in the corner where he wouldn’t float off in microgravity. Svetlana would get as far as she could without him.

On the screen, a series of space stations were cycling, some in greater detail than others as the Noboat made its approach. Svetlana watched Yigôzien’s eyes with intent as the Kalarael scrutinized the view. As one of the stations came into view, Yigôzien pointed and spoke merrily. “Tsi`rist!”

If that wasn’t a glowing recommendation, Svetlana didn’t know one. “You heard her,” Svetlana said. “Take us closer.”

“As you wish, my lady.” With another manipulation of the control, the Noboat accelerated forward.

Suddenly, Yigôzien’s eyes widened. Reaching out, she placed her hand on Svetlana’s shoulder, her eyes turning dark yellow as if suddenly afraid. “Lukish manaka.”

Staring at the being, Svetlana spoke to Tauthin. “Wait. Stop our approach.” What was the matter? Angling her head as she looked at Yigôzien, she waited for the Kalarael to elaborate in whatever way she could. Yigôzien seemed to be thinking. Her vulpine eyes darted back and forth frantically, her hands outstretched as if she was looking for something to do with them. There was no doubt about it: Ed would have been a tremendous help. Svetlana considered trying to coax the Ithini to attempt another connection, until Yigôzien finally said something that made sense.

“Pew! Pew! Pew!”

Her eyes open wide, Yigôzien held her hands in front of her. Gliding one of her hands over the other, she shook the stationary hand and once again went, “Pew! Pew! Pew!” Opening the other hand widely, she went, “Pkssshhh!”

It took about two seconds for Svetlana to understand. The hard part was not to laugh when she did. Unaware that the Noboat was shifted into the Zone, Yigôzien was afraid that the space station would blow the approaching ship into a million pieces. Who needed an Ithini connection when they had top-flight communication such as this?

Extending her hand to reassuringly touch Yigôzien’s, Svetlana said, “It’s okay.” Though she was well aware that the Kalarael wouldn’t know what the words meant, she hoped that the tone alone would indicate that Yigôzien’s fear was unfounded. Pointing to the hand that Yigôzien had used as the space station, Svetlana shook her head, then covered her eyes as if she couldn’t see. Twice more the gesture was repeated, before Svetlana dipped her head and looked into Yigôzien’s eyes, in the only facially expressive way she knew to convey, “Does that make you feel better?”

And…it didn’t. Nothing about Yigôzien’s expression changed, except that she perhaps looked more bewildered than before.

Half-frowning, Svetlana patted Yigôzien on the arm and again looked ahead. “Tauthin, take us closer again.” Her Kalarael friend would get the gist when whatever guns were on that space station didn’t start firing at them.

“Yes, my lady.”

As the space station grew larger in the view screen, Yigôzien and her companion grew more alarmed. “It’s okay,” Svetlana said, over and over again. “It’s okay.” Keep it reassuring, keep it calm. Yigôzien and her companion began speaking back and forth, fast and frantically, as the space station grew closer and closer. And then…

…Yigôzien stopped. The feathery-haired being cocked her head in a way that looked quizzical. Glancing back at the brown-and-orange-haired male, Svetlana saw that his mouth was hanging open. Svetlana couldn’t help but smirk. Welcome to the future. Focusing her gaze ahead, she asked Tauthin, “Is there any sign that the Kalarael can detect us?” Just to be sure.

“No. A shifted Zone Runner can only be detected by another Zone Runner.”

As Yigôzien watched with diminishing trepidation, Svetlana examined the finer details of the station as it came closer into view. The station was not particularly large, though it did possess fanning, multicolored sails designed much in the style as the arrow-shaped vessel they’d destroyed. By “not particularly large,” of course, it was still vastly bigger and more complex than anything humanity had put in orbit—roughly the size of three Bakma Carriers, if Svetlana had to compare it to something.

Three horizontally stacked centrifuges made up the center of the station, the top and bottom centrifuges slowly rotating in opposite directions as the central centrifuge, which was also the largest, giving the station the appearance of gears that were constantly in a state of motion.

Yigôzien drifted toward the view screen, where the space station was now taking up their full view. Pointing to a row of circles that ran along the center of the station, she said, “Geishn.” Looking back at Svetlana, then to Tauthin, she said the word again.

Eyes narrowing, Svetlana scrutinized the indicated circles. As the Noboat inched ever closer, she saw that the circles were actually holes in the station. Docking bays.

“Geishn,” Yigôzien said again, before offering Svetlana what looked like a smile of reassurance. Propelling herself gently across the bridge, she came back to Svetlana’s side, where she reached out and touched the blonde on the arm. “It’s okay.”

It actually took a moment for Svetlana to realize what Yigôzien was doing, but when she did, she too offered a small smile of gratitude. The Kalarael had no idea what “it’s okay” meant, beyond knowing that Svetlana had used it to calm her own nerves and invoke a feeling of trust. This was Yigôzien’s way of saying, “it’s your turn to trust me.” And so trust, Svetlana would. Eyes returning to Tauthin, she said, “Take us to where she showed us.”

“As you wish, my lady.” Working the console, Tauthin brought the Noboat forward.

Leaning toward the view screen, Svetlana watched the space station draw nearer. It looked easily less than a kilometer away, which in the vastness of space, was virtually nothing. The Noboat slowed further as Tauthin took it within the station’s sphere of influence. Squinting her eyes, she could see now what was inside the circular docking bay. There was movement. Faint movement, but definitely movement. Kalarael. They were walking to and fro in the docking bay, no spacesuits to be seen, as if there was no vacuum of space around them. “Tauthin, are you seeing this?”

“I am.” Drawing the Noboat to a stop just beyond the docking bay, the Bakma stared ahead at the scene.

From the other side of the bridge, Wuteel spoke. “I am detecting high plasma readings at the precipice of the docking bay.”

“A plasma window?” Tauthin asked.

“It would so appear.”

Svetlana asked, “A plasma window?”

Wuteel’s knobby brow lowered as he looked her way. “It is a technology that the Khuladi have been unable to master. It is a plasma field confined within a magnetic field. It would allow for an atmosphere to exist side-by-side with the vacuum of space, with neither affecting the other.” He grunted. “But it is not without challenges. They are difficult to stabilize and prone to leaking. In addition, while a plasma window may keep air in and the vacuum of space out, the temperature of plasma is extraordinarily high. Any vessel passing through a plasma window, if not properly shielded, is prone to considerable damage or even destruction.”

From helm control, Tauthin nodded. “You Earthae refer to our weapons as ‘plasma’ weapons, but plasma is only a small part of the process. Were you being struck by bolts of pure plasma, no armor would save you. It is among your many misconceptions about reality.”

Svetlana turned her focus back to Wuteel. “Will we be able to pass through this plasma window?”

“Yes,” the engineer answered. “Because we are shifted into the Zone, the core temperature of the plasma window will not affect us. Our mass and the window’s mass will mutually affect each other, however, meaning that even while shifted, the moment we pass through the window, its fluctuations will surely be detected by the Kalarael.”

“How certain are you of that?”

Wuteel’s answer was immediate. “Certain. They would not implement such technology and not have a multitude of sensors in place.” Looking back at the screen, he grunted. “It is a wonder that such an inferior species has mastered this technology when the Khuladi have not. This falls into the realm of force field technology, which has always eluded them.”

Releasing a guttural scoff, Tauthin said, “Much would have eluded the Khuladi were it not for the Ithini. Almost all of their advanced technology is from the Ithinis’ research. They simply knew how to utilize it for warfare.”

Wuteel glared across the bridge at his Bakma counterpart. “The Khuladi found true purpose where there was none.”

“Okay.” Raising her hand, Svetlana stared at the two. “Let us focus on what is in front of us. If the Kalarael are going to know that we are crossing the threshold of this ‘plasma window,’ then it would be better to reveal ourselves right away. If they start running into the docking bay to investigate, they are liable to smash into the spacecraft and injure themselves. There should be no risk to the ship to materialize—” Catching herself, she cleared her throat. “I mean, to shift back into realspace right away, correct?” It was a challenge trying to relearn all the terms to which she’d grown accustomed. She should probably start ditching the word ‘Noboat’ for ‘Zone Runner,’ too, just for consistency’s sake. Easier said than done, but she’d try.

It was Tauthin who answered her question. “Though we do not know what weapons technology they possess, it is highly unlikely that anything on a ground operations level could threaten this spacecraft. Shifting into realspace after we cross the threshold should pose no risk.”

“Do we have any way of determining the atmosphere inside the ship? It would be similar to the atmosphere of the planet, would it not?” She already knew the Kalarael were oxygen-breathers. They must have been, considering they were still alive.

Nodding, Tauthin answered, “It would be logical. Their planet is similar atmospherically to your own, though oxygen levels are somewhat lower. It is not enough to be life-threatening.”

Not to be life-threatening, perhaps, but certainly enough to make breathing more difficult. Ceratopians dealt with that when landing on Earth, a planet with lower oxygen levels—presumably—than their own. Though formidable warriors in any atmosphere, eventually, they began to grow weary after extended periods of time on Earth’s surface. Svetlana couldn’t imagine breathing being any more difficult than it was now with her missing nose. There was nothing she could do about that, though. “What about gravity? On the planet? And the composition of the water?” Chances were, the centrifuges on the space station were spinning at a rate intended to match that of the Kalarael homeworld.

“Gravity is less than Earth, but only by a small degree. Though faintly noticeable, it is not as vast a difference as between Earth and the planet you call Mars.” He paused. “As far as water composition, the planet’s oceans feature a much higher level of salinity, though there are patches of inland freshwater.”

Satisfied with Tauthin’s answers, she said, “Let’s do it.” Looking ahead, she watched as they neared the threshold of the docking bay.

“Passing through in ten seconds,” Tauthin said.

The interior of the docking bay was fairly Spartan. It was just a big, flat, open room that was white and well-lit, giving more the appearance of a laboratory than a place to land. Still, there were some consoles and pieces of heavy machinery strewn about the place, the purposes of which were not immediately recognizable. And as for the floor, there wasn’t even an obvious landing platform—the whole surface of the docking bay was glossy white. Beauty in simplicity.

Tauthin said, “Passing through the field now.”

The white interior lights of the docking bay shifted red. From one side of the bay to the other, the Kalarael flinched, whipping their heads to face the open bay door that the Noboat was passing through. Wuteel had been right: their touching the plasma window had tripped all kinds of sensors. Invisible to the naked eye or not, the space station knew something was there.

Heart pounding, Svetlana found herself holding her breath.

From behind, Yigôzien placed her hand atop Svetlana’s wrist as she floated in microgravity next to her. The Kalarael smiled. “It’s okay,” she said.

Svetlana couldn’t think of a more simplistic phrase to have been chosen for such a deep, important relaying of assurance. But it helped. Jaw lowering, she watched the Kalarael run about the hangar like panicked ants, the clunky awkwardness of magnetic boots now apparent. “Are we clear of the plasma window?”

“Almost, my lady.”

“The moment we are clear, shift to realspace.” She didn’t want the Kalarael on the space station wondering what was going on any longer than they needed to. As terrifying as she knew it’d be to suddenly see an alien spacecraft landing in their space station, at least the Zone Runner’s visibility would provide an answer as to what was tripping all their sensors.

Glancing at the controls, Tauthin said, “We are cleared of the window. Prepare for realspace shift.”

On the other side of the bridge, Wuteel worked furiously from his own console. “Rift generated. Beginning shift into realspace now.” The lights above the bridge shifted, their red hues replaced by dark blue.

Svetlana watched as the Kalarael in the docking bay scrambled as fast as their magnetic boots would allow. In seconds, they would see something they would never forget. For the slightest of moments, she envied the sense of wonder they were about to feel. She almost envied the fear. To come face to face with the mysteries of the unknown, be they terrifying or not. There was just something awesome about that.

The dark blue lights faded. White lights kicked on. As the ever-familiar crackle of static electricity emerged, the Noboat—no, the Zone Runner—made its presence known. Leaning forward in her chair, Svetlana watched for the Kalaraels’ reactions.

Panic. Stumbling, falling, flailing panic. Even at a distance, she could see their open-mouthed horror—the immediate darkening of their eyes in fear. Emergency lights were still flashing in the docking bay, and for the first time, she could make out in realspace the wail of a klaxon.

“I will refrain from engaging the gravity wheel,” said Wuteel. “It would interfere too much with the station.” He continued. “Sensors are picking up a faint repulsor field in front of the plasma window. It is too weak to impact the ship.”

“Preparing to land,” Tauthin said. Moments later, there was a loud clunking sound as the spaceship touched down. “The docking bay floor is exhibiting weak magnetism. It is enough to anchor us to the floor but not to hold us there should we choose to leave. Shifting into the Zone will negate this effect.” His fingers were still flying across the panel.

It was as lively as she’d seen the two Bakma work their respective controls, and at times it was hard to tell which one was responsible for what. Svetlana turned to Yigôzien. They needed to move to the antechamber as quickly as possible so that the two Kalarael could reveal themselves. Floating across the bridge, she gestured for Yigôzien and her companion to follow her.

Svetlana knew which button to hit to lower the antechamber door. The only question in her mind was whether or not she wanted to be there when it went down—whether or not it was better for the Kalarael in the space station to see her or only their lost companions. Choosing the latter, she slapped her hand against the button to lower the ramp. “Good luck,” she said. “We will see you soon.” Though she knew the words meant nothing to Yigôzien, she hoped that at least a part of their meaning—a part of their intent—connected with the exotic beings. As the ramp lowered and a cold, sterile breeze blew in from outside, Svetlana floated backward through the antechamber and toward the small, hooked hallway that led to the bridge. The last thing she saw before she turned away was Yigôzien looking back at her. Before the door went down any lower, Svetlana disappeared out of view.


“Put the antechamber on screen!” Svetlana said. The view screen flickered briefly, the view in front of the Zone Runner replaced with the view of the two Kalarael in the antechamber. Both were in the same place she’d left them, staring ahead at whatever was taking place outside. “Can we see what they are seeing?”

Tauthin worked the console, and the view screen split into two scenes—the same view of the antechamber and a new one from a camera somewhere on the Zone Runner’s port bow.

Lowering her gaze to stare harder, Svetlana waited to see who would make the first move—their two Kalarael friends or the ones that had gathered outside to meet them. She could see Yigôzien moving her head—talking, though she couldn’t see her mouth from the angle they were viewing. “Can you give us sound?” Svetlana knew she wouldn’t be able to decipher anything Yigôzien was saying, but if something from her tone of voice could be measured—wariness, nervousness, desperation, or calmness—that would be worth something. Yigôzien’s delicate tones emerged through the bridge speakers. Looking down, Svetlana tilted her head just a bit to hear better.

Nerves. Or at least, it sure sounded like nerves from human standards. Earthae standards—we are called Earthae. The readjusting of her mind was in full swing. Every species that Svetlana had met referred to Humans as Earthaes. She felt like an Earthae, especially being so far away from her homeworld. She was proud of that green and blue planet, regardless of the messes its occupants occasionally got themselves in.

Narrowing her eyes, Svetlana watched as Yigôzien and her counterpart were approached by four beings, each covered from head to toe in armor. The suits were a resplendent, shining silver, with red, almost wing-like spindles fanning out from behind them. Their helmets, all featureless, were curved like hawk beaks with no discernable viewing ports.

Next to Svetlana, Mishka purred, the massive beast leaning the side of its head against her. Turning her head slowly in the canrassi’s direction, she considered how the approaching Kalarael would act upon seeing the canrassi for the first time—upon seeing any of this ghastly crew. The Bakma and canrassi were horrible looking, like monsters out of nightmares, and Ithinis looked like deformed, malnourished children. When the most aesthetically pleasing crew member was the blood-stained woman whose nose was cut off, that said something.

On the screen, Yigôzien and her counterpart swayed their hands out in front of their bodies and—for lack of a better way to put it—curtsied. She watched to see if the guards—paladins, as she thought of them in her mind—would do something similar, but they did not. So fluid and polished was the gesture, whatever it indicated, Svetlana knew it had to be something the Kalarael—or at least Yigôzien—performed often. A way of saying hello, perhaps?

Once more, Yigôzien dipped her body, this time pressing her hands together like prayer hands and swaying them from side to side, like an interpretive movement.

Sighing, Svetlana rested a hand atop her head and turned away from the screen. Who knew how long this was going to take?

“Activity in the docking bay, my lady,” said Tauthin.

Turning around again, Svetlana looked at the side of the view screen that was dedicated to the bay, where a vehicle—if that’s what this multi-armed, mechanized contraption could be called—was ushering in a massive, cylindrical tank. Both the tank and the vehicle were hovering, kept above the ground by sets of curved objects that ran along their undersides that seemed to be keeping them mere inches from the floor. Upon drawing within ten or so meters from the Zone Runner, the vehicle drew to a stop. The tank was gargantuan, with large white tubes jutting out and disappearing into smaller connected modules, then going back in. All around it were consoles and depressions. Squinting, she could faintly make out the general shape of a sealed door on the closer end of the cylinder. Her focus shifted to the antechamber, where the paladins were clearly pointing the tank out to Yigôzien and her friend. A second later, the two Kalarael were fitted with mag boots and following the paladins toward it.

This had to be part of some decontamination or quarantine process. If there was any concern about bacteria or the spread of extraterrestrial germs, putting everyone in the Zone Runner into quarantine would be atop the priority list. Her expressing her concern about such a thing now felt more justified. As Yigôzien and her counterpart were led inside the tank through what was indeed a door on the near end, Svetlana turned her attention back to the antechamber monitor. The paladins were still there, craning their necks as if to look around the antechamber corners. Trying to get a peek at what else was inside. She was fairly certain that the reality that awaited them was nothing like the fantasy that must have been in their heads. But that was for them to discover on their own. After turning her head away from the display, she floated past her captain’s chair to the back of the bridge.

This was going to take some time. Yigôzien would have to be questioned about everything before whoever ran that station was going to willfully step aboard the Zone Runner. That alone could take hours, during which the entire docking bay—perhaps even the entire space station—was liable to be cordoned off. Whatever was going to happen next, Svetlana was already prepared to have to wait for it.

After the freneticism of her time on the Zone Runner thus far, she was okay with that.


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