James Scotson - Planets Falling

A week passed with no sign of rescue. Gorian occasionally scanned the infraspace receiver. However, she could do no better than the computer, which found nothing out but static in space during its endless scans. Iggy stirred. Given the monotony, this was a moment of great interest among his crewmates. He rose and walked to the cargo area. A few moments he returned with a tube of viscous liquid and said over his crackling speaker, “Who has been eating my food?”

Fen and Gorian smiled and pointed at Grey. Grey shrugged. “What? I like the texture. There’s plenty to go around, especially if Iggy keeps going dormant.”

Another day passed. Grey found Gorian in the cargo hold crying. He sat down next to her and rubbed the stubble on his face. “G, I’m so sorry it came to this. You know, I was hoping that after all this, we could maybe take a trip together.”

She grabbed his hand and held it tight. “We’re going to make it.”

“Was that a question or a statement? We’ll make it. To go through all that on the planet — we owe Verat and the others that much. Perhaps we already had our trip. What a vacation.”

“Why haven’t we seen a sign of rescue yet?” She pulled on her hair.

“Well, Fen pointed out that there are some in the Institute that would like to have seen Nine vanish. If we know too much, they might find it convenient to let us disappear as well. However, Fen assured me that there are others in the leadership that support us. They promised him that they’d find us if anything went wrong.”

“Where are they?”

“I think it may be difficult for them to rescue us without tipping the others off. We just need to be patient. Keep faithful, hope is the only thing we have. At least we can grow fat and old in this box.”

“Engineers aren’t fans of faith. We like certainty. And I know that we are falling into the star. So, I’ll let you hope for both of us.”

“You need to convert to science. We aren’t afraid of a little uncertainty. How else are you going to discover new bits of knowledge?” He smiled a little and kissed her cheek. He headed back to the communications station at the helm.

Minns lifted from her funk. She was eating something that looked like creamed corn and sitting at the navigation panel.

“Welcome back,” Grey said quietly.

Minns’ face suddenly brightened.

“That’s not for me, is it?” Grey asked.

Minns pointed at the screen, mumbling with her full mouth. A large object appeared about 100 kilometers below them. They magnified the image. It was a vast intergalactic transport with the name Fuerst in silver letters stenciled on its port bow.

The transmitter clicked. “This is Etch, pilot of the vessel Fuerst. Raven shuttle, do you require assistance?”

Etch welcomed his guests on the Fuerst with a bottle of his finest wine. Being full zenat, he didn’t drink, but realized that the crew would appreciate the token. Fen managed to sit up and join them as they sat around a table in the ship’s galley, describing the events that happened.

“Etch, who sent you?” Grey asked.

“Friends in the Collective told me that you were in need. I am glad you survived. You are truly a remarkable team.”

At that instance, Grey realized that it was a collaborative effort that allowed them to escape. These were his friends. However, they had lost so many. “Etch, I know that you were a colleague of Fromer. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Etch chuckled in a raspy baritone. “Fromer is not lost my friends. I talked with him just a few hours ago.”

They exchanged confused glances. Grey spoke. “You must be mistaken. The last time we saw Fromer on the planet, he was saving us from the creatures. We assumed that he ran to the Raven but didn’t make it there before the ship dropped and the planet collapsed.”

Etch cleared his spiracles with a hiss. “Fromer is neither here nor there. He is no longer bound by what you consider reality. In a way, he is like a pilot but does not need a quantum drive and a ship. This is a very good thing, do you not think?” He was greeted by blank and baffled looks.

“I see confusion in your faces — even the nauron looks perplexed with those enormous round eyes.” He laughed heartily and took a bite of something resembling sirloin. “By now you all have deducted the true purpose of the planet, no? Great power. But it went horribly wrong. Fromer found the good wandering the surface. He followed this force and jumped in before the portal receded. When he did that, he entered a realm that is not bound by the rules of the universe. He can occupy this existence — our universe — and many others. He is free to roam. A pilot’s dream.” He sighed through the holes in his belly.

Minns sipped her wine. She was feeling more fortified with each glass. “You said you just saw him. Did he just appear before you? Like a ghost?”

“Oh no. I talked with him while I was dropping to the former location of C9. He is able to move freely in what we call infraspace. He intercepted the Fuerst and told me where you were. I was surprised at first. But I have been piloting for more than a century — my surprise quickly transformed into understanding, to the best of my ability. How envious I am of him. I have to wait until death. And even then, I will never experience his freedom. Death has its limitations. He has escaped those shackles.”

Minns was feeling very good, the alcohol humming in her veins. “So, where’d he go after the drop was finished?”

“He was not clear about this. He mentioned that his mission was just beginning. That C9 was a noble effort but not the right vision for this universe. It was creation corrupted by malice. We sentients are not meant to dabble in these things. He was going to start a new path. And then he was gone and I had to rescue you.” He took another bite of meat — some poor beast that once roamed on the zenat home planet — and closed his eyes in contentment. “Enough talk for now. We need to rest in preparation for the broad and long road ahead.”

“I’m sure the Institute will want a full briefing when we return to the Platform.” Grey sighed at the thought of the paperwork and long conferences.

“You cannot return to the Platform or to the Institute. To them, you all died during the accident on Nine. The official story will be that Melat went insane and used the Raven to destroy the planet.”

“Well, yup, that’s pretty much what happened,” Minns exclaimed.

Etch finished. “And all hands were lost. You were destroyed in the gravitational collapse.”

Realization settled on all of them.

“Then what will become of us?” Gorian asked.

Fen coughed and finished his glass. “Etch, I’d better handle it from here.”

Amy Marksman was born a chubby, bawling baby in a small cottage in the mountains facing the great ocean. Her village was small, populated by only a few hundred people or so. The villagers were mostly merchants, trading with the ocean dwellers to the west and the plains people to the east. Her father was the town blacksmith. He’d travel to the ancient, ruined cities to the north, bringing back carts full of rusted iron and other metals. He could forge just about any tool or device in his shop. His guilty pleasure was crafting blades. Many lawkeepers and hunters would travel long distances to buy or barter his wares.

When she wasn’t engulfed in the smoke and heat of her father’s shop, Amy’s world was pine trees and songbirds. Salt air would drift in during the evening; she’d spend many evenings sitting on the porch, dreaming about ships and far-away places. But traveling the world was not in her stars. She was the village’s prime gardener. Her mother, grandmother, and generations of female ancestors before these women had the same gift as she. Every spring they would conjure berries and vegetables from the rocky dirt. They had a sense of the seasons and the soil, knowing what amendments and additives were needed — when to make the land work and when to let it rest. The village eagerly awaited the rewards of their labor. The best children in the town became her apprentices. A considerable army of assistants was at her disposal.