Chapter Forty-one
Date unknown
Time unknown
Ban-Hezikal, Kalar
CLOSING HER EYES, Svetlana inhaled a breath from the Zone Runner’s antechamber door—the boundary where the runa legras’s earthiness met the acetone pungency of the Bakma spacecraft. For what few minutes she would remain on Kalar, she wanted that mix of aromas—that mix of worlds—to linger.
The Kalarael had allowed several of the Bakma defectors, led by Tauthin and supervised by a squad of darishu, to return to the space station to retrieve the Zone Runner and bring it to Ban-Hezikal. It had been the Kalarael’s intention to lace Svetlana’s departure with fanfare, but at her insistence, that plan had been abolished. Svetlana didn’t want a parade or a ceremony. She wanted her last moments on Kalar to be peaceful and quiet—a proper goodbye for an introspective soul. Not even Yigôzien or Akàziendi were there. The only spectators were what few staff remained at Ban-Hezikal.
Svetlana’s road to recovery had been long, but worthwhile. Through it, she’d seen the reconciliation of a species with itself in the form of the Winduster Accords. She’d seen hope delivered to a different, hopeless species in Tauthin’s efforts toward a free Bakma nation. She’d seen herself overcome yet another obstacle, this one a recovery the likes of which few could have experienced. She had been called many things since her imprisonment under Nagogg. Now, she could call herself battle tested.
The half-mask she was wearing now was one of many the Kalarael had given to her—this one a near carbon copy of the stone blue one she’d first been given. Of the multitude of masks and garments she now possessed, all tailored for her, that mask and its matching outfit were her favorite. There was something to be said for functional simplicity. There was something to be said for not intentionally standing out. She looked forward to wearing normal clothes again upon her return to Earth. She longed for the drabness of a standard EDEN uniform.
This all started in Novosibirsk’s infirmary. It all started as I was doing my reports next to Max.
Who was to say what could have been different had she not been there, studiously doing her tasks as always? Were it not for that dedication to the role of chief medic, she might have never been in a position to get taken by Tauthin in the first place.
It was so safe there. I was updating the Fourteenth’s records. Max was asleep with his feet propped. Life was normal.
Scott had left for Cairo. Thoor had sent him on a covert mission. Her life served as the general’s leverage. No rational person would have considered any of those things “safe” or “normal.” But they were normal for Novosibirsk. They were normal for the Nightmen. They were normal for her.
“All systems on the spacecraft are ready, my lady. We may depart at your command,” said Tauthin from behind her.
What will it feel like when I step into Room 14 again? What will it feel like when I see my friends for the first time? What will they think when they look upon my face? And will I even care?
They were unanswerable questions—at least, until they were experienced firsthand. It didn’t stop them from bobbing up and down in her head like corks in water. It didn’t stop them from silencing her in thought.
“Setana?” Tauthin asked.
I ended up here, halfway across the galaxy, because I did my job back on Earth. Because of that, I became an alien among the stars.
Kalar had become arguably the most significant aspect of her life. On Earth, the greatest impact she’d had on the lives of those around her was being used against them by the Terror of Amsterdam. Being a card to be played. But here? Here, her impact was immeasurable.
Drawing in the quietest of breaths through her mask, she finally gave her comrades an answer. “We will leave in a moment.” No acknowledgment was given her. None were needed.
Stepping to the edge of the antechamber ramp, she knelt down to caress her fingers against the surface of the runa legras. Against that pink, plaster earth that was now as warm to her as the green pastures of Vilnius. She had already collected a sizable amount of it in containers to bring back to Earth—but she wanted to experience it here, one last time, under that blue sky and those vivid rings. Closing her eyes, she thought a prayer.
Only You know what the future holds. Only You know what my future holds. With what I have become, do with me what You will.
Upon opening her eyes, Svetlana rubbed the tips of her dusty fingers together then rose to a stand. It was time. Offering the sparse Kalarael audience a final look, she turned to walk up the antechamber ramp. As she drew close to Mishka, the beast purred and leaned into her.
Svetlana’s ears perked as a sudden chatter emerged behind her, and she halted. Tauthin noticed it, too, and the two of them turned back to the structures at Ban-Hezikal at the same time. The Kalarael there were no longer watching them board the Zone Runner—they were speaking frantically to other Kalarael who’d quickly run out of the structure, gesturing emphatically for those outside to go in.
“What is happening?” Tauthin asked.
Shaking her head, Svetlana answered, “I don’t know.” She stood motionless for several moments before she walked back down the ramp, Tauthin following.
From the antechamber itself, Kraash-nagun emerged. The Bakma’s cybernetic eyes zeroed in on the pair that was suddenly leaving. “Where are you going?” he called out.
Svetlana didn’t answer outright—she just held out her palm to request that he wait. In front of them, all of the Kalarael rushed inside the structure, prompting Svetlana and Tauthin to quicken their pace. Seconds later, they too were inside.
Projected onto one of the white walls of the lobby was a live camera feed. What it showed looked like a war zone. Pillars of fire and billowing smoke were visible, as the voice of a frantic Kalarael attempted to narrate, nothing of which Svetlana or Tauthin could understand. All around the lobby projection, Kalarael watched with dark yellow eyes, gasping and wailing as they clung to each other.
“What is this?” Svetlana asked, despite the language barrier. No one attempted to respond. Their terrified stares were glued to the images.
The view suddenly shifted, changing from the fires and billowing smoke to something different. Something instantly more familiar. It was a wide-angle view of a massive, spacious cavern—one filled with winding streets and crude structures, as far as the eye could see. Except, instead of being kept aglow by lanterns and bioluminescent life forms, the illumination was coming from city-wide devastation.
Sélestere.
Covering her mask as she would her mouth, Svetlana stepped closer to the projection. This was Sélestere—that beautiful, underground city. That place of such significance. What was happening?
No sooner had she posed herself the question, she received her answer. Amid the roar of the raging inferno, there came the sound of an all-too familiar weapon. As the camera shifted again, she saw the flashes of white, streaking light. Plasma.
There was a burst of static. The feed of the city interior was lost, immediately replaced by a view of the city’s exterior—and of the sparse few buildings on the surface. But it was not the buildings or the surface that Svetlana noticed. It was the sky above them.
Zone Runners. An armada of Zone Runners. They were everywhere.
She turned her head to Tauthin. He was already staring back at her. At the same time, a new sound emerged—one that was not from the video, but from directly above Ban-Hezikal. Like the roaring of engines. Svetlana and Tauthin rushed for the exit, many of the Kalarael following behind them. As soon as they were outside, they turned their gazes skyward.
Kalarael fighters. They were streaking through the sky at breakneck speed, their noses pointed toward the distant horizon. Toward Sélestere.
Svetlana’s mind raced. This is not like the attack on Winduster. At Winduster, they were attempting a rescue. They were trying to liberate Caragbuul. Winduster was a facility—Sélestere is a city.
This is just like Hong Kong…
Turning her gaze to the Zone Runner, Svetlana watched as Kraash-nagun, Ed, Mishka, and the other members of Tauthin’s free Bakma nation stood at the antechamber’s precipice, their gazes not on the overhead, streaking fighters, but instead locked solely onto her. Fully attuned to the lady of the Zone Runner. Waiting to see what she’d do.
Freedom was there. It was right there, with ray-like wings and a fully functional rift generator. Waiting for her to make the call to leave. To begin their long-awaited return to Earth.
Slowly, she turned her ocean blue eyes to Tauthin. His deep purple orbs peered into hers. As if he already knew.
Gaze returning to the horizon—to the city beyond the runa legras—Svetlana slowly reached for her staff.