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Episode 85: Until We Meet Again
The next forty-eight hours flew by. Starsha showed Sandor everything she could about the Rophi-shamayim, but he asked many questions she couldn't answer.
Once the Queen told the science officer everything she knew, she stepped back and let out a heavy sigh, "I am sorry I cannot help you further. There are things about this device that even my own people did not know. Perhaps one day you will discover its mysteries for yourself."
Sandor placed a hand on the machine's silver housing, "I don't know that we'll ever have enough time or resources to dedicate to such a monumental task, but it would certainly be an intriguing pursuit."
"I apologize that you did not get to take shore leave with the rest of your crew," said Starsha.
"I was entirely happy right here," Sandor replied, giving the machine a fond pat. "I would've spent the time doing research anyway. I'm sure I'll spend a lot more time in here during the journey home." The XO paused thoughtfully, "Will you know when we've used it?"
"Yes," Starsha nodded, "I will receive notice of its activation, and perhaps even some images of the restoration. It will be my joy to see Erats bloom again."
"We leave in an hour. I need to check on the rest of my team before we go. It was a pleasure to meet you, Queen Starsha. If I ever have the opportunity to work with you again, I will gladly take it." With a smile, Sandor dismissed himself to check on the rest of the men and women he was training to use the Rophi-shamayim.
Starsha could feel the excitement buzzing through the ship as she quietly made her way back to the open dock where her small boat waited. Everyone was chattering enthusiastically. After some rest, they were all more than ready to go home.
She made it to the dock and was halfway down the steps to her boat when she heard someone behind her call her name. She looked back over her shoulder and saw Derek, Nova, and Alex leaning over the railing.
"I hope we see you again soon," Nova called out to her. Starsha smiled at the young woman, but couldn't bring herself to say "Farewell."
Derek waved to her and she waved back to him.
Alex slowly raised his hand in a salute, to which Starsha gave the man a grateful nod.
She waited until she was far enough away from the ship that she was sure they would not hear her. "Until we meet again, my friends…" she whispered.
The sharp sting of the salty water splashing up into her face made her eyes water and hid her tears as she sailed away from the Eratite ship.
Once she docked at the mainland pier, she secured her craft and climbed out onto the dock. She waited, watching for the Argo's engines to start up. Fifteen minutes later, the great ship rose out of the Sea of Iscandar. Its shadow loomed over the waters for some time before the vessel rose too high, and the dark patch disappeared.
The Iscandari Queen swallowed hard as she watched the Argo disappear up through the clouds and shrink into a tiny speck as it departed for home.
"Baren, is everyone aboard either the Cobel or Lambea?" Fomto Berger, acting Captain of the last remaining tri-deck carrier in the Keshet fleet asked the old man standing beside him.
"We have them all," the aging Gamilon answered.
"Make sure both ships are staffed well enough for us to get back home," Berger instructed. He sighed and folded his arms across his chest. "So many losses… I admired the General, but coming here was a mistake. If that one Eratite ship could defeat so many of ours, I dread to meet it again."
Baren gave the younger man a fatherly pat on the shoulder, "General Lysis had no way of knowing it would turn out this way. I'm glad we finally came across the Cobel. They seem to be in better shape than we are, even if they did lose half of their crew and most of their pilots."
"We've been wandering around out here for over two weeks," Berger absently fingered the scar running halfway up the left side of his face. He gritted his teeth in frustration, "How could so many of us get caught up in one explosion?" He growled angrily and started pacing.
"At least Raphan and Pauker survived. The last thing we need is another ship scrambling to find a commanding officer." Baren surveyed the sparsely populated bridge.
"I've never run a ship before. I've never even been an executive officer. How do they expect me to do this job any better than the rest of them?" Berger stopped and, with a hand over his face he sighed.
"We all know you'll do whatever it takes to get us home. That's why everyone agreed on you," the old man offered.
Berger took his hand away from his face, but before he let it drop back down to his side he stared at it for a long moment. For the first time he noticed how dull his skin looked. All the time he'd spent out in space had faded his skin into a sickly light blue.
He ran his hand through his violet-tinged hair and turned his face toward the ceiling. "I can't do it, Baren. I just can't do it."
"Now, listen here," the old man stepped in front of Berger, fists on his hips, eyes ablaze with the light of a youth long passed, "You are going to get these men and women home. I, for one, still have a daughter stationed on Gamilon, and almost everyone else onboard has family or friends still planet-side. Standing here griping about your lot isn't getting us any closer to where we want to be."
"You're right." Berger pinched the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache coming on. "I just – It's a lot at once."
It was Baren's turn to cross his arms. "Well, you've got all of us here to help you, Captain." The old man grinned at Berger as he said the new title.
Berger nodded his thanks.
"Sir, ship approaching from port; all readings are consistent with the Mirangal," reported the radar operator, a young woman barely eighteen.
"They're hailing us." The communications officer began playing the other ship's message. It was staticy and hard to decipher until the man, a transplant from the engine room, adjusted the equipment enough to compensate for the audio difficulties.
"Lambea, this is the Mirangal; Captain Rikke will be boarding shortly. Please make preparations for her arrival," the other ship's comm officer announced.
"Little Miss Neredia all the way out here?" Baren raised an eyebrow. "Something must have happened."
A sinking feeling knotted in Berger's stomach at the thought of the woman's imminent arrival. It had been years since he'd seen Neredia. The last time he saw her was before… He absently touched his scar again.
"Get some tea going, Baren," the newly appointed captain stepped away from his chosen second-in-command and left the bridge.
Berger wove his way through the narrow corridors until he came to his humble quarters. He hadn't taken over the Captain's cabin. Doing so felt disrespectful.
He sat down in one of two chairs stationed on either side of a small table. He folded his hands and stared down at the floor. The deck plates shone from their most recent cleaning.
Without thinking he reached into his pocket and withdrew a tiny hologram. He set the projector on the table and turned it on. From the device sprang the image of a lovely young woman, her skin a rich azure, and her hair dyed a striking chestnut red.
Fomto stared at her.
"Melia…" He whispered, "I wish it had been me instead…"
There was a sharp knock at the door, and Fomto snatched up the hologram and stuffed it back into his pocket.
"Come in," he beckoned.
"Still slumming?" Neredia walked in, her hair holding some of the red highlights she was so fond of in recent years. She stepped over to the table and sat down in the second chair. "Do you have any decent tea in this place?"
"Baren's bringing it now," Berger answered.
Neredia chuckled, "You always were the prepared one, Fomto."
"Why are you here?" Berger asked, looking straight at the woman.
Neredia licked her lips and folded her hands on the table. She leaned forward just enough for Berger to see the concern in her eyes. "Gamilon has fallen."
The door hissed open and Baren appeared, tea in hand. He set two full cups down on the table along with a half-full pot. The old man looked from Fomto to Neredia, and then quietly left.
"What do you mean?" Berger hissed.
"Just what I said. Gamilon – what was left of her – is wasted. The palace is gone, and all that remains of Belarus is a heap of ash. I received images of the devastation only a few days ago. I was sent out to look for General Lysis's fleet when you didn't come back. Keshet is not so far away that it would take this long for you to return."
"I appreciate the concern, but we, along with the Cobel will make it home. We need to finish repairing our ships. Lambea's warp drive was damaged in the Eratite ship's final attack. Cobel met much the same fate."
"We need all the ships we can get to come back to Gamilon now. The Eratite ship attacked the palace, but we've heard of survivors. There's a rumor that the Leader took as many as he could to some sort of bunker before the tower came down. We're still searching for them," Neredia set her cup down. It clicked softly as it met the metal table.
Fomto, his drink still untouched, wrapped his hands around the warm cup. Wisps of steam floated up from his tea. "How bad was it?"
Neredia's jaw clenched as she withdrew her communicator and set it on the table. "Belarus," she said to the device.
Berger drew in a sharp breath as image after image appeared before him. Where once stood a proud structure, was now merely a pile of ash and rubble. Berger reached out and stopped the images, selecting several in particular. He stared at them for a very long time.
"These are some of the survivors," Neredia reached out and scrolled through the pictures until she came to one of three men and two women. All five of them looked battered, but unharmed. She moved along the list of images, showing Berger the faces of the fortunate. "They haven't released an official list yet of those who are still missing, but at least a hundred people that I know of did make it out of the tower. Hopefully the rest were all able to get to whatever shelter the Leader intended."
Without another word Neredia picked up her communicator and slipped it back into a pocket. She leaned forward, elbows on the table, her hands folded. "Fomto, let me help you get back home."
Berger rubbed his forehead, the headache from earlier now blossoming into a migraine, "Alright." He closed his eyes, brow furrowed. "Lambea and Cobel await your assistance."
Neredia nodded and picked up her cup. She sipped her drink again, "Please give my complements to Baren. He still makes a fabulous cup of tea."
Fomto barely heard her over the pounding in his head. His ears began to buzz, drowning out the woman's words even more. The ache in his head migrated to the base of his neck. He winced at the pain. The buzzing grew louder, but instead of a monotone drone, he began to hear a strange melody.
As the volume of the music grew, the pain in his head subsided.
"Neredia, do you hear that?"
The woman stared at him, head tilted in puzzlement. "Here what?"
"You can't hear the music?" Berger asked.
"Fomto, I don't hear a thing other than you talking," she raised an eyebrow at him. "Maybe you should go see the medic about that headache."
Berger closed his eyes for a second, and when he opened them again his entire cabin was bathed in a disconcerting crimson light. "You don't see that?"
"See what?" Neredia asked, her tone a bit annoyed.
"The whole room, it's… red…"
"Fomto, I –"
Berger's eyes widened as up from the floor rose a dozen ghostly figures. Some were unfamiliar, but most of them were old friends. One in particular, the one closest to him was the most unsettling of them all.
"Melia…" Berger reached out toward the phantom, but just before he touched it his entire world went black.
Dara stared at the barren wasteland below. Gamilon's soil, once fertile and rich with plant life was now a dull green. Sick yellow scars had burrowed into the planet, leaving wide openings in the ground large enough for several ships to pass through at once.
"How has this happened so quickly…?" She whispered.
"I know it looks bad," Dietz said from the copilot's seat. "It was awful when you were here before, but now it is far worse."
"Why haven't we been challenged yet?" Elisa asked from her seat behind Dara. "Most ships would have been hailed before reaching this point."
Alarm rose in Dara's throat as, off in the distance, smoke billowed up in an ominous black pillar. "Let's go find out what that is." She set off toward the smoke. A tense silence settled over the cabin as they drew closer.
Dara flew lower to the ground as the smoke began to cloud her view. She glanced at the instruments often as she took the ship down into one of the larger holes in the ground. When they were low enough to see where they were, Dara heard Elisa choke back a sob.
"It's gone – the Palace, Belarus, everything," the sounds of the general's wife weeping gripped Dara's heart, and though Gamilon had not been her home for a very long time, she felt the same grief as Elisa.
"Who could have done this?" Dara managed, her eyes watering with tears as she beheld the shattered shield that once covered the city, and the blackened remains of the palace.
Dietz pointed to something wedged into the ground between two fallen rocks. Dara started to set the ship down, but thought better of it when she saw the high amount of dust and debris still in the air. She didn't particularly want to venture outside if she didn't have to so, instead, she steered the ship over to the strange object.
It was a torn piece of metal, but nothing like anything that might be used on Gamilon. Dara directed the ship's sensors to gather as much information about it as possible. When they were done, she perused the data. She read through the preliminary findings quickly, seeing nothing pertinent there. She skipped to the end, and a sharp pang of regret settled in her gut.
"It's Eratite," she stated, anger rising in her heart. "How could they do this? How could they have so little regard for life? They spared me, why not these innocents?" She squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth, tears rolling down her cheeks. "We have to check for survivors."
Dara breathed deeply, concentrating on regaining her composure enough to do what needed to be done. She set the scanners to check for signs of life and started a sweep across the pile of rubble that used to be the Palace tower.
"Nothing… There's no one still alive down there," she swiped at another tear and kept going. A thought struck her, "Dess – the Leader – was he here on Gamilon?" Thick horror settled on her at the thought that she might have lost her brother, and before she could tell him everything…
"I haven't heard," Dietz replied.
"I'm not sure either," Elisa managed.
Dara started to circle the ship around the tower, slowly widening her search area. She was about to give up hope when the sensors chimed.
"We found someone!" Her face brightened, encouraged by this tiny spark of hope. She glanced over at Dietz. He too had tear stains on his face, but in his eyes she saw the same determination she felt.
The contaminants in the air were thicker here. She'd hoped to avoid going outside the ship, but with the prospect of survivors, she was willing to take the risk.
"Admi – father," she stumbled, "please take over. I have to go out there."
The old Admiral nodded, and as soon as he took control, Dara slipped on her helmet and activated her suit's air recycler. She slipped past Elisa on her way to the back of the ship. The general's wife sat silently weeping, her hands covering her unborn child.
Dara swallowed hard and continued walking. She slipped into the cargo bay and gave Dietz the signal that she was ready to go. She felt the ship descend, and then the loading ramp cracked open. Immediately dust and ash whipped into the empty hold. The air scratched at her helmet, making it very hard to see.
Not to be dissuaded, she inched her way down the ramp. When she was on the ground she looked around, trying to see as well as she could in the gray air. She held up her hand to ward off some of the falling black flakes.
A few hundred feet away, Dara could just make out the silhouette of a low building. She checked the sensors on her HUD. Whatever life sign the ship was picking up was most likely inside that building. She stepped forward, squinting at her dimly lit path.
She slogged through piles of charred debris, taking special care that nothing ripped her suit.
Finally she made it to the building. The door would not open for her and she immediately began looking for a manual override. She found it quickly and activated it. She pulled the door open just enough to wedge herself through the opening.
It was so dark inside the building that her helmet immediately switched to night mode. She could make out the outline of old stairs off in the far corner. There seemed to be nothing else in the room.
Curious, she went over to the steps and started down them. Five flights down, she came to another door. This one too was unresponsive and she pried it open. The instant the door seal cracked, a hand shot out and grabbed her by the ankle.
She screamed in fright and toppled to the floor as another hand joined the first, yanking on her other leg.
"You'll kill us all!" The terrified yell bit into her ears.
She flipped open her helmet so they could hear her. "No! I've come to help you!" she shouted back.
"Then seal this door and do not come back until it is safe," the same voice replied.
"Alright!" Dara replied. "My shipmates and I will clear away the smoke and ash. I'll come back when we've done that."
The hands holding her ankles immediately disappeared.
Her heart still racing, Dara flipped her helmet closed and forced the door all the way back into place.
Episode 86: Beholder
"How many were there?" Dietz asked.
"I couldn't tell," Dara shook her head, "But there were at least two of them. Probably more from what the one said."
"If we are to clear the air, we must find the source of the fire," Dietz offered.
"Let's get to the palace site. Drop me off there and I'll see if the fire is still burning from inside that heap," Dara started to take back control, but Dietz was already turning the ship toward the mountain of rubble.
When they reached the remains, Dara went back to the hold again and waited for Dietz to settle the ship down near the debris. When the boarding ramp opened, she braced herself for what she was about to walk into. She dared not let herself think of her brother, or the countless others who might be dead.
She harbored hope that she would find some sort of refuge tucked beneath the smoking pile of death outside.
Dara took a deep breath and left the ship.
When she saw the charred heap, she choked back a sob. This was what remained of what was once the proudest structure on all of Gamilon. In it all of her kings and queens were crowned, her holy days exalted, her tragedies mourned.
No more.
She fell to her knees as the tears streamed down her cheeks beneath her helmet. She was glad Dietz couldn't see her now. She wished she could remove Melda's face now. The girl had to rest in peace at some point, and that time was drawing near. Many times she thought to tell Dietz that she was not his daughter – that Melda perished bravely – but every time she reached up to take off her mask, fear overcame her and she waited.
With another shaky breath, she pulled herself back to her feet and step toward the smoking ruin. Several hundred feet into the debris field, the way became treacherous. Beams and large chunks of wall barred her way. She climbed over what she could, but the rest she had to traverse around.
She checked the time on her HUD frequently. The longer she stayed here, the longer those people had to wait hidden in the dark. She gritted her teeth and climbed up a pile of congealed metal. When she stood at the top of her misshapen hill, she spied the source of the black smoke.
Carefully, she picked her way down the other side of the metal heap, skidding more than once.
She was at the center of the rubble now. All around her lay bits of the old building.
Her boots crunched as she walked, and the air was darker here. When she was nearly to her goal she tripped. The obstacle sent her tumbling several feet. When she stopped sliding she picked herself up, brushed herself off and checked her suit for damage. Finding none, she sighed in relief. She looked back over her shoulder to see what she tripped over.
Her gut wrenched as she saw the lifeless blue skin of one of her countrymen. From underneath a slab of wall jutted a limp arm.
"No. No more of this," she choked, "Gamilon hasn't made it this far to have those who remain snuffed out." She balled her hand into a fist. She squeezed so hard that her whole hand began to ache. "I will not see this place fall apart again.
She turned away from the sight and made haste to the source of the fire.
"I know it is near," the silver haired Prime Minister hissed. Shifual Sabera of Gatlantis put her hands on her hips and glared at the Cometine Captain through the hologram. "Shambleau is mine, and I will not allow anyone to take it from me."
"Yes, Prime Minister," the burly captain drew his dagger from the sheath on his shoulder and held it up to the young, olive green skinned woman in salute. "We will find the ancient ship, and when we do, it and its mysteries will be yours."
"See to it, Dagarm," Sabera growled. "I will have the secret to their cloaking abilities. Thus far they've evaded us, but they cannot hide forever. I look forward to hearing good news from you."
Dagarm bowed to Sabera and her hologram disappeared.
The instant the woman's visage vanished, the Cometine threw vehement curses at her, "We do not even know where to begin the search for that fable. Shambleau is a myth. No one has ever seen it. The only resources the Prime Minister has are ridiculous bedtime stories for children. How does she expect us to find something that doesn't exist?" He let out a frustrated roar, catching his second-in-command squarely in the face.
The officer blanched, then recovered his composure and stepped a little farther away from Dagarm's chair. "Perhaps if we do as the tales say we might find –"
"Are you implying that we should use a toddler's story as our guide?" Dagarm leaned over in his chair and shoved his nose in the officer's face.
"It was merely a suggestion, Sir," the XO stuttered.
"Good," Dagarm growled, "If we are so fortunate as to find this ancient ark, it will not be because of that ridiculous legend."
The bridge of the Megaluda fell silent. Dagarm could feel his frustration mirrored in his men. They felt like they'd been set up for failure.
He let the men wallow in self-pity for a while, and when he'd had enough he stood, broadsword in hand. He slammed the blade down into a crack between the deck plates. Sharp ringing drew everyone's attention instantly.
"If we are tasked to do the impossible, then that is what we will do," with his one good eye, Dagarm surveyed his bridge crew. "We haven't earned our name as the 'barbarian horde' by doing nothing. If we must hunt a ghost, then let us be as fierce as wild dogs on the hunt."
A roaring cheer spread across the bridge. The men shook their fists at the possibility of failure.
Dagarm nodded in approval and gritted his teeth in determination. Wresting his sword up out of the deck plates, he sat back down in the Captain's chair, "The hunt has begun."
The thick, black smoke billowing up from the source of the fire made Dara want to cough. She studied the debris closely before going any closer. Her suit's environmental sensors showed how hot it was here. Sweat beaded on her forehead unbidden. She absently swiped at her face, but only managed to graze her visor with her covered hand.
She swallowed hard and decided to press on. The temperature continued to rise, but Dara did not stop until she reached the glowing embers of what remained of the Palace's central power generator. She reached out to touch the molten mess. An alarm screeched inside her suit, sending a jolt into her right ear. She jerked her hand away.
"Di – Father, I need fire suppression here. The power core is still burning. Unless we put it out, it will keep fouling the air," Dara could still hear the frightened voice from the sealed off room in her head. The more she thought about the people tucked away down there, the more determined she was to make it possible for them to leave their prison.
"We'll be there soon," the Admiral replied. "Is your ship equipped with enough extinguishing fluid to put out the fire?"
"I don't know," doubt crept into Dara's mind, "but whatever I have will have to be enough."
"Understood," Dietz replied. "Less than a minute until we're above your location."
"Let me know before you make the drop," Dara stared up into the fog above her in vain, straining to spot her ship through the thick ash. Her suit's sensors picked up the incoming plane long before her eyes could have recognized it.
"We're getting ready to dump the fluid now," Dietz's voice rang through Dara's helmet.
"I'm moving away from the site. I'll go back in once you make the drop," she carefully started back through the rubble, retreating several dozen yards from the spot. Finding a good place to watch, she settled down and waited.
Fluffy purple foam expanded into a cloud as soon as it hit the air and settled down onto the burning power core. The suppressant molded itself onto the liquefied metal, encasing the fire in a violet prison. Within a twenty count, the fire was out. The giant pillar of smoke dwindled down to nothing. Ash still rained from the sky, but the air was already clearing.
"Can you flush out the ash any quicker?" Dara asked from her perch near the tower ruin.
"We'll try," Dietz replied, "But it will still take some time. Go back to the survivors."
"I'll do that," Dara turned away from the remains and picked through the mound of tower pieces all the way back to the low building.
She went straight back to the sealed door and flipped open her visor. She rapped sharply on the old metal.
A muffled answer met her ears, "Is it safe?"
"Not yet," Dara admitted, "but the fire is out. My friends are clearing away the ash now. You should be able to leave soon."
There was no response for a long time and Dara thought she would never receive one. She turned to go, but just as she reached the base of the stairs that would take her back up to the building's entrance, she heard the door creak slightly open.
Not wanting to startle whoever was there, Dara slowly looked back toward the old door.
A single eye peaked out at her. "Hello…?"
"Hello," Dara replied, cautiously stepping away from the stairs and turned to face the door.
The eye widened. "You…"
"I'm Melda Dietz," Dara supplied.
"No – no, that is not your name," came the reply.
Dara stared back at the watcher puzzled, "I'm sorry?"
The eye disappeared, only to reappear with several other eyes in its company.
"See? I told you," the voice of the first eye spoke to the others. "Do you not see it?"
"Yes…" A second voice whispered.
A third protested, "This is not the same face."
"But you do not deny that it is her," the first watcher said, still staring at Dara.
"No… I do not deny it."
"I cannot denounce such a truth as this."
"You have your mother's face, child," the watcher stretched out a beckoning hand and motioned Dara to come to the door.
"My mother died many years ago," Dara replied hesitantly and took two steps toward the open door.
"Indeed she did," the watcher replied. "We all mourned that day."
Dara's brow furrowed again, "How were you acquainted with Erin Dietz?"
The watcher chuckled softly, "I do not speak of the Admiral Dietz's late wife, but of the dearest Queen we have ever had. I speak of Talonka of Gamilon, Daratina."
Fear made her stomach churn and Dara bolted for the stairs, but just as her hand found purchase on the railing, she felt a strong tug on her other arm.
She whipped her head around. Standing at the base of the stairs stood an old woman. Her grip was still surprisingly strong and no matter how hard Dara tried to free herself from the stranger's grasp, she couldn't manage to shake the old woman.
"There are still some who remember you, Princess. We have waited and wondered for far too long," the stranger wiped her tears on her dirty sleeve. "We thought you dead."
"But… how can you see my face?" Dara reached up into her ear. She felt the tiny device she'd planted there months ago. She quickly shut her helmet and turned on a mirror. Her eyes shot wide open when she saw, not eighteen-year-old Melda Dietz, but herself. "Run a diagnostic on the holographic mask," she directed her suit's computer.
Three seconds later the artificial intelligence droned, "Holographic mask has been disabled due to extreme heat."
"No… they can't know yet," she chided herself for being so careless.
Her helmet visor slid up and the old woman peered into her face. "Do not be afraid. We all rejoice at your coming. Why did you hide behind the face of another?"
Dara stared back at the woman, thoughts of young Melda racing through her mind. How could she tell this woman that she'd stolen the face of a girl she didn't even know in order to find her kidnapped daughter? "I… I cannot stay. Once you are safe, there is something of dire importance I must attend to."
"I see…" the old woman looked down at the ground. "We are glad to know that you are alive and well."
Dara nodded succinctly and took a step up the stairs. The woman's hand fell away, letting her go. When Dara reached the top of the flight she looked back over her shoulder. Just below the first step stood a group of men, women, and a few children. They looked up at her with wondering eyes. Even the youngest, a boy no more than five gazed at her with a terrifying dependence.
She turned away and closed her visor again. She trekked all the way back up the stairs with a thick dread settling on her heart.
"Reboot holographic mask," she instructed as she reached the entrance.
The most horrifying sound in the world met her ears and an error code popped up on her HUD.
"Reboot holographic mask," she tried again.
Once more the same error appeared.
"Explain error code," Dara directed.
"Holographic mask is irreparably damaged. Reboot at this time is not possible."
Fear raced through her as she heard this. How could she go back to the ship? Admiral Dietz would know in an instant that she wasn't really his daughter.
She took a deep breath and stepped out of the building. Ash still fell, but not nearly as thickly as before. She looked around, and for the first time could see farther than a few feet in any direction.
Portions of the city shield survived, and the buildings underneath those areas looked to have fared the best. It was so different than when she'd left so many months ago.
She stood staring up into the sky until the air cleared enough for her to see all the way back to the tower ruins without squinting into the haze.
"We're coming to get you," the Admiral's voice rang through her helmet.
"No, not yet. I want to see if there are any other survivors out here," Dara could feel the panic rising in her voice and fought to hide it. "You keep clearing the air."
"Alright. Call when you're ready to come back," Dietz signed off.
Dara bit her lip hard. The metal tang of blood coated her tongue and a fresh dose of terror iced her veins.
Berger opened his eyes and was met with a familiar sight. He remembered this hotel quite well. It was the most well-known inn anywhere in Rapha-or – Belarus as it was now known. He was sitting on the couch in the foyer. The familiar green walls and ample amounts of healthy plants stared back at him.
He shifted his weight. The couch creaked.
He stood up slowly, listening for the sounds of other people. The foyer was silent.
He took a cautious step forward and heard his boot click on the floor.
To his left a staircase ran up to the second floor. He started toward it.
"Captain?"
Berger nearly jumped out of his skin, "Baren! I didn't know anyone else was here."
"That's what I thought too – that I was the only one here," the old man stepped up beside Fomto. "Where's the crew? Or Neredia? "
"I don't know. How are we back on Gamilon? And in a building that no longer exists…" An echo of an old memory gripped him when his eyes settled on a spot near the front door.
This was the place he first met Neredia, and… Melia. Over ten years ago, when he was in his twenties and newly enlisted, he'd come here on his way to his first posting. Neredia and Melia were just checking in when he'd nearly bowled them over.
There was a bad storm that day and the wind kicked him through the door faster than he'd anticipated. He smiled at the memory.
"Never been here myself," Baren commented.
"I have," Fomto replied absently. He turned away from the spot and walked back over to the couch. He sat down, arms on his knees, hands folded.
"Captain!"
"Melhi?" Berger looked up to see the youngest member of the crew, a bleach blonde fifteen-year-old coming in through the door on the other side of the room.
"Where is everybody?" Melhi asked. The boy stared quizzically at his surroundings as he approached Berger and sat down on the couch next to him.
"You haven't seen anyone else?" Berger asked.
"Just Baren, and now you," Melhi crossed his arms.
"If we're the only ones here, maybe we should see what's outside," Baren suggested. The old man started toward the front door, but when he came to within three feet of it, it disappeared replaced with a blank wall. "What…?"
Berger turned to see what his old friend was talking about. "What's the matter?"
"Don't you see it?" Baren pointed to where the door once stood. "It's gone."
"What's gone?" Fomto asked.
"The door. It just disappeared."
"I can see it from here. It's still there; it's right in front of you," Berger stood up and started toward the door, but when he reached Baren, the door vanished. "What is this?" He muttered. "What's going on?"
"I believe the true question is, 'Why are we here?'" The familiar voice called all of them to turn their eyes to the stairs. At the top of the tall flight stood Neredia. Her long red dress swept each step as she made her way down to them.
Berger stared at her as she approached them. "Why do you have Melia's dress?"
"She gave it to me," Neredia replied. "Is this all of you?"
Puzzled at the sudden subject change Berger replied slowly, "As far as we know…"
Neredia nodded, "Good. Then this shouldn't take long."