Chapter 8: Respite

Floating in the vacuum of space is an odd feeling, but I think the peculiar nature of the light is what I will remember most. With the distances unblurred, everything is both unknowingly far off and weirdly neat. The greenish planet still waits below us, red dots showing the embers of a long war. The Three Thrones war if I remember correctly. Enderlith itself is but a small dot in the distance, one I only spotted because SilSil kindly pointed it out for me. I am not yet allowed to pilot my own booster but it’s ok. The Telleria — that’s the ship we’re boarding — is about building sized and rather intact for a derelict. It looks like some retro NASA design all in white and shiny chrome, with small windows bordered by black rivets. It is also unlit. The team does a preliminary inspection by floating around the ship and checking items off some list. I try to use the booster manually after SilSil gives his blessing. It’s just too easy to spin and too hard to stop but at least it’s fun.

 

“Ok mudboy, enough barrel rolls. We’re moving in. SilSil?”

 

“On it! On it!”

 

I am rudely interrupted and stabilized. The airlock here is small, forcing us to enter by two. I am in the first batch with Sethri, the booster left outside.

 

“So, do you feel anything?” he asks.

 

I focus my perception then patiently sweep the ship. I’d say I can feel around 5 to 6 meters all around me, and up to 15 in a tunnel if I focus. It doesn’t take all that long to go over the entire ship, but it does leave me with a mild headache, not much, just a strange pressure.

 

“I feel something alive. Not a human or anything that thinks but… a presence. Several small presences, rather,” I say, picking my words carefully.

 

“That could be part of the environmental suite. So long as none of them feel hungry?”

 

“No, and none of them should be larger than a…”

 

There are no cats there so out of despair, I show dimensions by waving my arms around.

 

“Hmm, that’s definitely bigger than Nature’s usual plants. Alright let’s keep an eye out. And mudboy?”

 

“No removing the helmet,” I repeat in a tired voice.

 

“Wow, Vargo, he remembered!”

 

“I am surprised myself,” the woman replies from outside.

 

“Ok, let’s move in.”

 

There is air here, though no gravity. The interior is just as white as the exterior, but it’s clearly more lived in. Dust floats around but there is little debris near the entrance. Everything is tidy. The light of our lamps cut cones of radiance into the darkness of the unpowered ship.

 

“We’re going to check what Mudboy found first. Vargo, Stone, with me. SilSil, keep the engines powered just in case.”

 

“You got it! Got it, boss.”

 

We follow a white corridor to a sealed door. I find traces of life here: a shivered potted plant, still fighting against its inevitable doom, wrappers, tissues, pens and a disposable spoon float to and fro. Sethir opens the door to what must be the environment room. Dead projectors look down on the decrepit remains of the greenery. Only the mushroom patch still thrives. Some of them seem bioluminescent.

 

“Is this worth anything?” Vargo asks. “Never seen this one.”

 

“It’s used in medications medications for calming people without too many side effects,” SilSil explained from the side. “I forgot the price, but maybe?”

 

“If we get quarantined because it’s some sort of plague spreader…” Sethri warns.

 

“No! Look at the ship manifest.”

 

“Hmmm.”

 

In the end, Stone packs the mushroom. In the meantime I look at a nearby wall.

 

“There is… something there. Behind,” I say.

 

The mood tenses up immediately. A tiny blue flame adds itself to the light of our torches.

 

“Vargo if you roast me with that…” Sethri warns.

 

“Old man…”

 

Vargo speaks a rapid fire tongue I don’t know yet. It’s quite hissy, but Sethri replies in So-Sah.

 

“I don’t think it’s anything that bad. Look at the blueprint,” he continues, pointing at a document he pulled from a side satchel.

 

We spend a few seconds pondering upon a 2m wide map.

 

I have no idea what the fuck I’m looking at. I mean, it has to be a map of the spaceship but…

 

“Ah, I see it. And look!”

 

The flame of her thrower shows electric cables disappearing into the wall. I can only assume it’s not supposed to be there.

 

“SilSil?” Sethir asks.

 

“You won’t get it open the normal way unless the ship’s powered. Are we recovering it?”

 

“This rust bucket? Never.”

 

“Then I guess Stone’s your man.”

 

Stone is, in fact, the man as he has some sort of laser cutter that slices through the wall like it’s butter. As expected, there is a hidden compartment but contrary to my expectations, it’s still alive, powered by a generator cube that glows green in my vision. Rows of watery tanks line the walls, occupied by sluggish shapes.

 

“Does that produce electricity?” I ask with some doubt, pointing at the cube.

 

“No, pure mana…” Sethri replies, voice dreamy. “Ah and those are shimmerlobsters. They’re used to manufacture hallucinogenics. We can’t sell them but there’s a bounty on their disposal.”

 

Vargo whistles.

 

“Looks like Mudboy just paid for himself.”

 

And I did if the mood of the crew is any indication. While the team gets to work, I am allowed to play outside with my booster under SilSil’s benevolent supervision. The tiny fae runs around the station with what appears to be a large magnet, seeking out screws and other errant floating debris. Apparently they can be a major danger in space if left unchecked. Over the next hours, the team pulls the ship apart to recover some of the more complex pieces of machinery: a computer here, parts of the engine there, some of the more advanced elements of the environment suite still hosting some sort of algae. All of this is carefully stored in, or wrapped around our ship with a tight net, until Sethri declares our prey properly deboned. Then we carefully tug it in the direction of the planet.

 

“It will fall within three days and disintegrate in the atmosphere,” SilSil explains. “That way it won’t be a danger for navigation.”

 

“Aaaand won’t it fall on someone?”

 

“There won’t be anything solid left by the time it lands in the ocean,” Sethri explains in a darker voice. “And I’m pretty sure anything that could fly away from the surface already did so.

 

“What’s the planet’s name?” I ask.

 

“Founder,” Vargo swears.

 

“It’s called Founder?”

 

“No! No, Founder is… it’s the Founder! The person who Built Enderlith!”

 

“The first Archon,” Sethri explains. “And the planet is called Obis.”

 

“Oh, ok.”

 

“You cannot be for real,” Vargo says, manic. “Next you’ll tell me you don’t know about the Celestial Court.”

 

There is a silence, one I elect to break.

 

“I know about the court. I know about the 108 gods.”

 

“Alright, oof. I won’t ask you to name the 12, or the 18. I can’t even remember all of them myself.”

 

“He already told you he was cut off from… many things,” Sethri says. “That’s enough now.”

 

The two exchanged some rapid fire words in their hissy tongue of theirs. Eventually, Vargo lets out a small ‘sorry’. We start back towards Enderlith shortly after, the girl’s aura bubbling with guilt, frustration, but also annoyance and curiosity. I think I’m not out of the woods yet.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

 

The trip back is just as boring but at least SilSil lends me an old pad filled with terrible fae romance where every character seems obsessed with money. I sigh in relief when we decelerate, but tense when the others do. There are people near our berth. In white, fancier suits than our own, they hang around like vultures near a struggling body. I feel their souls as we come to a stop: eager, annoyed, feverish. They’re looking for a confrontation.

 

It happens almost immediately.

 

“So, old man, heard you found yourself a soul awakened?” the larger one begins.

 

His two hench people snicker.

 

“Or are you lying to save your voidling ass?”

 

“Dockmaster had no problem with our candidate. Bring it up with them if you’ve got doubts,” Sethri retorts. “They could use a good laugh.”

 

“I’ll show you a good laugh,” the leader barks.

 

His attention turns to me.

 

“So, are you a charlatan, stupid, desperate, or all of the above?”

 

I gently push my soul towards his own, ready to deliver an important message.

 

Not a charlatan.

 

He reels back, the gesture comical in the vacuum of space.

 

“Wooow, the space mutts found a real one? How much do they pay you? I can double it. Malevolence take me if I lie. Triple it!”

 

The crew tenses. Even if I were not in a loop, I’d still refuse. I may have many flaws but greed to the point of stupidity isn’t one of them.

 

“Sorry,” I reply. “I fear you can’t afford my services.”

 

“He can’t be paying you all that much.”

 

“I’m not talking about money.”

 

The newcomer radiates fury behind his helmet. The relief of my new team is palpable. Even Stone, who is normally tightly controlled.

 

“And unless you have important business, step aside,” Sethri concludes before advancing.

 

To my mild surprise, the three stooges do let us go through with all the kindness of hungry wolves spotting a toddler rolling by their enclosure. I wait until we’re through the airlock to ask the obvious question.

 

“So, what was that about?”

 

“Some people just don’t like us voidlings as I’m sure you’ve noticed,” Vargo says, voice heavy with sarcasm. “Oh and keep your suit on until SilSil gives you the go ahead unless you want to get familiar with the concept of ‘explosive decompression’.

 

“I am not feeling that curious.”

 

***

 

I am once again bereft of my dignity as I dangle between the two voidlings but if anything, they feel very careful about it. So I was promoted from potato bag to grandma’s furniture which, well, I’ll take it. I do not feel like complaining because the group radiates worry, only calming down after we’ve dropped our heavier gear in a reserved locker room. The walk back to the office and barracks is done in concerned silence.

 

“I’d like a word with you after I’ve done the paperwork,” Sethri says. “If you could wait in the mess hall?”

 

“Sure thing boss,” I reply.

 

He winces. Not the answer I was expecting. Inside of the mess hall, I grab SilSil’s gifted datasheet to do a quick spot of research, more specifically on the gods while the rest of the crew hovers around like a bunch of spooked hens. There are 108 of them just like Chronos told me. They’re also separated into categories although the guide warns against comparing their respective might and importance. Cutting through the outer layer of religious bullshit, I gather that the main group is composed of 12 members of the ‘tribunal’ whose temples and avatars have the most sway over the affairs of Enderlith. The vast majority of history’s Archons originated from amongst their ranks.

 

“So, uh, I’m reading up on the gods since it came up in discussion,” I say to no one in particular.

 

Stone doesn’t react much but SilSil is immediately interested.