Empty

 
The Shape of Emptiness
Shazira wakes early today, to a soft, sad sound coming from the deck outside our bedroom.

She wraps herself in a warm maroon cloak, covered with yellow flowers.
And she slips on sandals, and goes out on the deck of the watchtower.
The morning is still cool, especially at this height.

One of the Kishla is sitting on the deck, singing a song that tears the heart.

Shazira has never seen one so young.
It’s only a month or two old.
The young ones are never seen among people.

I wake a few minutes later, and walk out onto the deck behind Shazira.
“Do you think that he’s lost?” I ask.
“How did he get separated from his parents?”

I transform into a great bird so I can speak with the little one.
I sing to him, and he sings back.

“He’s too young to understand what’s happening,” I tell her.
“His parents left him on one of the islands near here, and never returned.”

Soon, we’re surrounded with a great tapestry of song.
The songs seem to spin around me, each with its own unique sound, bound together in a way that I can feel, but don’t understand.
The joining of songs reminds of the songs of the old ones in the temple.

I turn, and there are dozens of the birds flying toward us.
I rise in front of them, as the wind catches my wings, and I bathe in the sweet energy of the web.

“Where are the young one’s parents?” I ask, my words carried upon a song.

“They sang a death song,” say the birds.
“The gentle, soft world gave way to something round, hard, spinning, shining.”
“Something that binds the energy in a strange way.”

It sounds like they’re talking about something metal.
I show them a metal ball.

“Yes,” they answer.
“It shines like that.”

“But where is the knowing in your thing?” they ask.
“Your thing is blind to the web.”

“We saw something that chooses its way, and touches the web.”
“It flew hard at the parents of the little one.”
“A great fire came forth, on two thin paths, and our brother and sister died.”

“Is the thing still where you saw it?” I ask.

“It’s mostly still, as we watch it from the air, but we are afraid to go closer.”

“Take me as close as you can, then,” I say.

Two of the birds remain with the little one, while the others lead Shazira and me to a small, uninhabited island, about fity miles from the watchtower.
I felt a strange energy as I passed over this place a few days ago!

An orange metal sphere hovers over the surface of a large, flat rock.
The sphere spins, and shimmers with the energy that passes through it.

Two dead birds lie still near the sphere, their bodies black and twisted.

“We must mourn our dead,” cry the birds.
“We can wait no longer!”

“Not yet,” I say.
“You’ll die if you go near it.”

“Shazira,” I ask, “do you know what it is?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she answers.

“Keep them away from it, and I’ll get Balshown.”
“If the ball starts moving, go back to the tower.”

In Jiku form, I glide along the energy web, and reach Balshown’s house in a few minutes.

When we return, Balshown and I hover at a distance.

“Yagrin,” says Balshown, “I’ve seen one of these before.”
“There’s a mural at the closed city that shows two dead birds and one of these things.”

“Prophecy, Balshown?”

“I’m not sure,” he answers.

“But there’s a mural that shows the Jiku’s flight to this world.”
“Dozens of enemy ships are chasing the Jiku ships toward a hole in space.”
“The enemy ships are surrounded with hundreds of these spheres.”

“They look like some kind of automated probes,” says Balshown.
“One may have followed the Jiku through the hole in space that brought them here.”

“Balshown,” I say, “what if this is a new probe?”
“What if our enemies have found us!”

The sphere accelerates toward us.

“Shazira,” I say, “lead the birds back to the watchtower.”
“Balshown and I will lead the machine in the opposite direction, out to sea.”

The probe follows us.
I look at it with energy eyes while it flies.
It uses technology to glide on the web.

It’s my own foolish fear, I know.
But I find machines that manipulate the energy web more frightening then any master.

Something moves somehow in me, and I know how to send away the probe.
There’s no time to tell Balshown.
I just stop and hover, and wait for the probe.

I reach for the tattoos of the long knives.
The knives appear in my hands, and I cross them above my head.
The probe fires a burst of energy at me, which is captured by the knives, and reflected back at the probe.

The reflected blast does not reach the probe.
The energy fades when it gets within a few inches of the probe.

Two colored rings glow on the knife handles.
They are a gift from the balancer, given during my deep space journey.
They seem to whisper at me.

I reach for the color, and it drifts out of the knives, and into my hands.
My left hand turns blue, and my right turns gold.

I remember what it feels like to be in the presence of the Balancer who watches.
In a space between worlds.

I have a vision of a great, solid black sphere.
And a sound that fills everything.

The sphere spins for all time, and has no end.
Galaxies disappear as specks in the sphere’s shadow.

It’s surface is like a great desert, not because of sand or heat, but because of its emptiness.

The surface of the sphere is covered with dark holes, empty of energy and life.
Each hole is a tiny, empty space, isolated from the rest of existence.

I focus on one tiny hole, and reach out both hands toward the probe.
The probe shimmers for a moment, and disappers.

I can see the probe with my energy eyes.
It’s far away, in a tiny space, with no stars and no light.

I feel the energy of the probe draining away, and its substance vanish.

Balshown has noticed my absence, and returned.
“Where is the probe, Yagrin?”

“I trapped it in a place of emptiness, between worlds.”
“A place, I think, of pure chaos, where nothing can exist for long.”

“How?” he asks.

“It’s part of the gift that the balancer gave me.”

We return to the island, and bring the charred bodies of the kishla back to the watchtower.
I take the Kishla form, and sing with the living birds.
We send our dead brother and sister, along the path from life to death, as the orphan bird looks on with a broken heart.

 
Botzar’s Warning
At dinner last night, Balshown and I agreed to go today to the closed city.
This attack makes our trip even more urgent.

“We need to know more, Balshown,” I say, “about the old enemy, and the journey that brought the Jiku here.”

“We’ve read everything available, Yagrin,” he answers, “whether in the guild lands, or even in Tshuan.”
“Your friendship with the king has been useful.”

“But still,” he says, “we’re faced with contradictory stories, and nothing that will help us defend the people.”

“I have an idea,” I say.
“There is one of the old transport ships in orbit.”
“It was built from parts of the other ships that crashed here.”

“I’ll shape myself into an exact twin of the ship.”
“And then, with my healing sight, I can follow its trail into the past.”
“Give me an hour, and then return.

I need to get closer to the ship to become its twin.
For this, I take a pure energy form, and rise through the atmosphere.

It takes me a few minutes to find the ship in orbit.
I go inside the ship to get a closer look.
Is the same ship where B’tzel was imprisoned?!

There are no signs of life anywhere, but in the corner of one storage area, I find a strange energy.
I’m ready to look within the closed area With energy eyes, when an image appears outside the storage area.

It’s some kind of hologram, and meant for physical eyes.
There is air and heat here, so I return to physical form to view the message.

It’s a recorded message from Botzar.
I find it strange to watch someone who looks like me.
It leaves me with a strange feeling of dread.

“You are in great danger,” he warns.
“Any attempt to enter the sealed compartment, or use energy sight to view the contents, will result in your death.”
“Leave immediately.”

I don’t intend to open my energy sight.
But it opens anyway.

There are no normal signs of biological life within the container.
But there are two mental webs, about five feet apart.
And the mental webs seem active.

I notice a thin, quiet energy that seems to surround each of the two mental webs.

Where have I felt that energy before, I wonder.
In a few minutes I remember.

Botzar used the sword to cast an energy net upon B’tzel, and then imprisoned him on a ship.
This is the energy net that I feel.

B’tzel is still imprisoned here after a thousand years!
And someone else is also trapped by the net.
Who?

I pull away from the container, and transform again into energy.
Then I move into space, and become a twin of the ship.
My healing body seems to burst out of me, so anxious to rest on the other ship, and read its past.

I move back quickly through a thousand years of endless, unchanging orbits.
Until I see B’tzel being left here.

I scan slowly through the next few days, until I find what I seek.
Someone enters the ship, and then enters the storage place where B’tzel is kept.
I see a security code entered.

It’s Botzar, returning to the ship.
He hesitates for a minute, with his hand just above the strange energy field that keeps B’tzel prisoner.
Finally, he touches it, and the field spreads around his body and his mental web.

Botzar condemns himself to this endless prison for the destruction that he caused, for the millions that he killed.

I follow the ship forward in time.
No one else comes here.

I know the security code to open the compartment.
But I don’t know how to release them from the net.
No one deserves to suffer like this.

Botzar chose it for himself.
But B’tzel had no choice.

B’tzel was dangerous, and mentally unstable before his imprisonment.
And I suspect that Botzar’s guilt would easily drive him mad.

What can be left of either mind after a thousand years of isolation?

 
Artifact of War
I follow the ship back in time before the crash, and before the beginning of its journey.

A man and woman stand on a hill overlooking the ocean.
Near the edge of the ocean floats a great ship.

“Where will we go, Shilann?” asks the woman, with desperation in her voice.
“Is there any place the High Command can take us where our enemies won’t find us?”

“I’m not sure, Tila, but we launch in two days no matter what.”
“We think that they’ll attack a day or two after that.”
“I only hope we have enough time to get to a jump point before they reach this system.”

The man and woman separate, and the man enters a large building.
He rides something like an elevator to the top floor.

He enters a room where another man sits at a table, and taps his hand nervously in front of a green, stone box.
“Sit down, Shilann.”

“Is that the artifact, commander?” asks Shilann.
“Why aren’t the energy priests still trying to open it?”
“Maybe we could defeat the Fiklow, if we knew how to use it!”

“The priests have no idea how to open it,” says the commander, rising from his seat.
“Twelve years, and all they can say is that this box is a link to limitless energy.”
“The priests are convinced that we will have a source of endless power, and be invincible in battle.”

“But they said that twelve years ago too, when I found it deep in the ruins at Gunal,” says Shilann.
“And,” he continues, “all they’ve done in twelve years is start a war, and kill trillions of people on each side.”
This is our last system. We’re almost extinct, and the priests still want us to keep this box?!”

“Shilann,” says the commander. “You really consider our enemies people?”
“They look like multi-armed worms, and they feast on their criminals and dead.”

“Commander, tell me what we have gained through this war?” asks Shilann.
“All our enemy wants is to hide the box that they think will destroy the universe.”

“Calm down, Shilann.”
“Don’t be naive. You don’t really believe what the Fiklow say?”
“Even if it’s true that this artifact is a remnant from their ancestors, Gunal is one of our old places.”

“The Fiklow know that the box is a weapon,” says the commander.
“And they want to kill us before we discover how to use it!”

“The war is lost, commander,” says Shilann.
“The only question now is whether we can escape to a place where they can’t follow.”

“Three of the arks are ready, Shilann, and two more will be ready to launch in a day or two.”
“The ships can carry almost the whole population in cold storage.”
“Only a few thousand will be awake to crew the ships”

“We’re going to make a dimensional jump, Shilann.”
“They don’t have that technology, yet. It will be impossible to follow us.”

“And impossible to return, commander.”
“And we have no idea whether it works.”

“We’ve sent test ships, Shilann!”
“The priests here say that they spoke with the priest on one of the ships, and he’s found a fertile world.”

“Do you believe them?”

“I do.”
“And at this point, anything is better than waiting for our enemies to arrive and slaughter us.”

“Captain,” says the commander, “your ark will carry the artifact.”
“Perhaps on a new world, there will be enough time for the priests to discover its secrets.”

The commander reaches out his palm, and Shilann puts his palm on top.

As I watch the events of the past, I feel that something about that commander feels wrong.
He’s lying to the Captain, even though they are friends.

 
Shilann’s Sorrow
Two days later, the arks launch accompanied by a great number of smaller warships.
After the launch, with course set for the jump point, Shilann goes to his cabin.
“Computer, show coded transmissions between this ship and the commander’s vessel in the last 24 hours.”

The computer displays six coded transmissions, between ship’s navigator and the commander.
The navigator is in charge of the inter-dimensional drive and speaks regularly with the commander.
He’s the commander’s son-in-law.

“Computer, play each message, audio only, at double normal speed.”
“I’m sorry captain. Those messages can’t be viewed except with permission of the Commander.”

“Override code: zila – qut – zech”
“It’s a good thing,” says the captain aloud to himself, “that I modified the communications programming.”

The first five messages simply tell the navigator to be prepared.
Then, there is the sixth message.

“Navigator,” says the voice of the commander, “after completing the jump, wait for the Captain’s next sleep cycle and empty the air from his cabin while he sleeps.”

“Commander?” asks the navigator.
“You’re asking me to kill my captain!”

“The captain asks too many questions,” responds the commander.
“If he knew the truth, he would return the artifact to the Fiklow.”

“We searched for a copy of one of their secret holy books, and translated their strange language.”
“There are star charts encoded in the book.”
“Before long, we knew that the artifact was in Gunal.”

“We haven’t sacrificed so much, just to give up the artifact now.”

“But commander,” says the navigator.
“The Fiklow consider all of cursed for coming within 50 light years of the thing.”
“Their religion demands that they destroy those who are cursed.”

The commander laughs.
“I can’t believe that you take our stories seriously.”

“Our stories?” asks the navigator.

“Completely made up.”
“The Fiklow just want us to put it back, and stay fifty light years away from it.”

“But they’re killing us!”

“Oh, that much is real.”
“They think that the whole universe is at risk while the artifact is out of its tomb.”

The playback of the sixth message ends.
Shilann can hardly catch his breath, he is so furious.

A swarm of Fiklow probes arrive as the first ark enters the jump gate.

The Fiklow ships appear a few minutes later, as the last ark reaches the jump site.
All of the arks make it through the jump.
But the last planet, and the fleet are wiped out.

“Security, I need to get a reliable ark status,” says the captain, after the jump is complete.
“The computer reports problems in almost every major ship system.”

“Captain,” says the reporting lieutenant, with a trembling voice.”
“The computer’s report seems accurate.”

“During the jump, some kind of energy radiated from the artifact.”
“The blast killed all crew within 100 feet of it, including the navigator, and most of the energy priests.”

“And the artifact burnt out the circuitry for most of the freeze units, and dozens of other critical systems.
“Most of the people in freeze storage are dead, and we’ve only got a few hours of power left.”

“The same circuitry and ship areas were damaged on all five arks, even though only this ark has the artifact.”

“Did the Fiklow do it?”

“We don’t know captain, but how else could it have happened?”
“There was a huge swarm of their automated probes scanning us as we entered the dimensional gate.”

“Can they use their readings to follow us, lieutenant?”

“They don’t know how yet, captain.”
“But we could read the destination from the energy readings that they recorded.”

“Someday, when they discover how to open a dimensional gate, they can use their readings to follow us.”

“How long will it take them to develop the technology?”

“A hundred years, a thousand, or maybe never.”
“Who knows, captain.”

Shilann’s attention returns to the present.
“Have we gotten a signal from the test ship, lieutenant?”

“Yes captain.”
“We have just about enough power to get to the target world and land.”

The shield generators are damaged, and there is no way to repair them before the power runs out.

“There’s no choice,” says Shilann.
“We have to land without shields.”

The ships survive the landing, but are heavily damaged.

Millions die in cold storage, during the jump, when the freeze units fail.
And many of the others die during the landing, so close to their new home.

The captain stands on a hill overlooking the ocean.
He looks at the smoking ships, lying twisted on the shore, as the fog rolls in.

“Tila,” he says aloud, although no one is here.
“You would love it here.”
“The hills and the sea are so much like home.”

She survived the jump, but died during the landing, when the hull split, and she was cast into space.

 
      Read Part 2: Shadows of War »