Destiny's Kingdom: Legend of the Chosen (6 page)

"Central hangar, northwest loading bay behind the silver turret. Meet me there tomorrow morning. Eleventh hour."

"Eleventh hour?"

"Yes," she called over her shoulder as she disappeared into the throng of people. "I like to sleep in."

Clea arrived back at their usual place in the road just as Trina was finishing up the painting of a little boy so she settled in the low chair next to her friend, reclining lazily

"Five chid," Trina said simply, dunking her brushes in their cleaning solution.

"Five chid?" said the woman, startled, "surely your time is worth more than that."

Trina shrugged. "My time is not at issue, kind mother. Your happiness is my reward. Five chid."

After the woman paid her, Trina rolled the coins over in her palm. “I hate having to charge at all.”

"I know you do, but the money will be well distributed.” Clea crossed her arms over her eyes. “She would have gladly paid three times that much.”

"So what came of your exchange with Ryder? I assume you were right about him looking for you."

"Right, and richer for it," Clea said, peering out from under her folded arms, "Ten thousand for a run to Tal-Min. Ten thousand, Trina!" Her mouth opened as if in a giddy scream, but no sound came out. Trina returned the ecstatic look and reached out her hand, grasping Clea's fingers and twining them in a gesture of grand success.

"Your first ten thousand chid contract," Trina said, "congratulations on achieving your goal. You were right about it coming to you roundabout now."

"Yes, and perfect timing too. I know a certain Keystone's daughter whose birthday is but a few weeks away."
 

"Ah, it comes to light! The reason for your rise in price is because of my birthday. Well, fear not my friend, you needn't get me anything for my birthday. There's nothing that I desire."

"Of course there isn't," Clea said, "And so I shall get you something that I desire and then borrow it shamelessly."

"Oh actually, Clea," Trina said, leaning down, "I do need something."

"What's this?" Clea asked with surprise, raising her arms from her forehead, "A request?"

"Of sorts. Since you're going to Tal-Min, can you pick up some magnetic sand for me? I've almost run out. I didn't even have enough to bring with me today."

"Ah, a present that can be had for free. The best kind," Clea replied, rolling her eyes. "I should have known a request from you could only be banal!"

"Well it's all that I need. And I can't get it myself."

"I would have gotten that for you anyway. Surely you can think of something else you want. I'd wager some of this cargo will have jewels of a most unique variety…" Trina waved her hand, disinterested.

"I don't need anymore jewels," she said. "I need magnetic sand for my paintings. And for you to be home to ride with us at the Twilight Bloom."

"I've never missed the Twilight Bloom, Trina. Not once since we were little. I wouldn't imagine missing it this time."

"Yes well, now that you're commanding such high fees for your runs, you might be tempted to stay away longer, and more often." A twang of worried truth weighed in Trina’s voice, and she rapped her paintbrush against the leg of her easel to knock some of the moisture out of the bristles.

"No, never," Clea replied, taking a deep breath of the sweet smelling air that surrounded them, her voice sounding simple and assured. "I could never stay away from home that long. No matter what the price." Trina laughed.

"Glad to hear that you're still just like Quade on that count," she said, glancing up and acknowledging a new person who'd come by looking to get a sketch.
 

"Where is Quade anyway? Wasn't he supposed to be back, what…last night?"

"Yes," Trina answered, taking out her pencils and beginning to sketch on a large, stiff sheet of paper. Clea peered out from under her arms again.

"And you've not heard from him? That seems strange, for Quade."

"It is."

"Are you worried?"

"No," Trina replied, barely paying attention to the conversation now, becoming absorbed in her art. "Quade always comes home."

CHAPTER 3

M
idway mark, and Quade was at his final jump point in the spider web design of the leylines, just now coming up on the Kosch system. He didn’t have to check the countdown clock to know there was only two more hours travel time to Bethel. He sighed, anxious to be home. Quade found no comfort in the loneliness of space, and occasionally wondered how his parents had fared once cast out into it, banished for their unthinkable crimes. He didn’t linger on it though; thirteen years had passed and he’d only been a kid after all, not responsible for the heinous act they’d committed. As he always did, Quade forced the memory from his mind, with the irrational hope that if he could forget what happened, so would the rest of the world. As he moved through open space and came upon the Bet/Kos nexus point, Quade saw another ship lingering close to the nexus but not actually moving. It was a teaching vessel, designed to transport about two hundred people. As he came closer and the greenish glow of the Bet/Kos nexus became clear, he wondered why the other craft was hovering but not jumping, as was standard procedure for using the leylines. He sent an automated hail but after a few seconds of silence his impatience got the better of him and he sent an audio message.

“Fellow traveler, do you require assistance?”
 

A minute passed with no response, not even an identifier message. Perhaps they were having mechanical difficulties? Quade thought it odd that he hadn't heard any distress signals coming through his communication feed. He hailed the ship once more and waited, only to be met with silence. Now that he was closer, he could see a scoring blackness along one area of the hull. Flipping a lever, he commanded a scan of the other vessel for its identity and damage report.
 

“Teaching vessel Valiant,” Quade muttered, reading the scan. “Minor engine fluctuations, no significant damage.”
 

The craft was drifting, not appearing to be on any course or direction, just hanging dead in space. A weird, creeping nausea began to work its way through Quade's stomach, and an unfamiliar sense of anxiety followed, sending tension through his arms and shoulders. Something about this drifting craft gave him a deep-seated sense of unease that he didn't understand. He sent another hail, this time requesting two-way visual communication, and again there was no response. The wayward ship was very near to him, seemed to be moving slowly closer and as watched, and he noticed that the lights were dim in all the viewports as well as all the exterior running lights. Power drain, systems failure…it could be anything. Still, communications shouldn't have been damaged. Even in the worst power failure a ship's communications would override and run off of auxiliary systems just like life support, so that in an emergency there would be means of sending a distress signal. Just as he was about to send out a final hail to the other vessel, something caught his eye; something that Quade had never before seen.

Seeping from the hull of the ship that he'd been watching came an unidentifiable shape, something that looked as if it had form, but then actually had no form. It was black as indigo ink, and permeated from within the other craft like a ghostly fog. It hovered around the body of the courier in a parasitic position, almost seeming to leach from it. The dark cloud encompassed the cruiser entirely, masking the grey and red painted markings to obscurity, then all at once, it tore itself from the ship.
 

Nausea wrenched Quade’s stomach and he swallowed hard against its painful bloating stab. In all his life, he'd never felt this type of sickness, physical combined with a mind numbing sense of ill ease. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and he ran a hand over his clammy skin. His breath came in short, labored gulps and gasps. What was that thing? In years of traveling and mapping the stars, he'd never seen an apparition such as this, nor felt such a strong sense of doom toward any single thing. He squinted as he watched the inky shadow drift and churn for a moment, making a strange distortion as it wavered in open space. Quade looked down to his sensors. On the readout, he could see the display of the wayward ship, but nothing else between himself and it, nothing on sensors where the inky cloud hung between them. He looked out his forward viewers again, and the shadow that was blacker than the blackness of space itself still moved toward him, wavering inward as it floated, its size changing and becoming smaller as it neared. As it advanced, his gut swelled with nausea and Quade's instincts screamed for him to get away, forget the other ship and trying to establish communications, just retreat, get away from this thing-

Before his hands could reach the forward thrusters, the black vapor rushed Quade's ship, passing through the hull like it was nothing. It seeped in from above, channeling down through the center of the ceiling, also from the side. It swirled, its cloud-like substance filling the perimeter of the cockpit, gathering its huge, phantom silhouette until it became thick and took shape. Quade jumped from his chair, backed against the control panel. Unalive, unreal, yet pulsing with magnetic energy and vicious doom, it came to linger in front of him where Quade stood paralyzed, not knowing where to go to get away. The thing, this thing, this inky creature, had entered his ship, was hovering before him. And then, it lunged.

A horrible scream echoed through Quade's head and it took him a few seconds to realize that it was actually himself that made such a hideous noise. He heard it in his own ears, felt it resonate in his throat as the terror and mind-numbing dread overcame him. He fought against his sickness, struggled to stay standing, grabbing hold of his console, but shock and dizziness held him paralyzed. Quade hadn’t even time to shut his eyes when he'd seen it rush toward him in the same way it rushed his ship, seeped through the hull like the thick metal wasn't even there. But somehow, this creature could not touch him. This creature that had the ability to move through metal and open space swirled angrily around him, smashed repeatedly against some invisible barrier between itself and his self. Quade looked down at his body, moved within the blackness that threatened to encompass him, but for some unknown reason, could not. He waved his arms, cutting through the ebony mist as he moved, but it seeped back together as soon as he stopped. He was untouched and unharmed but soon the sick dizziness overwhelmed him and when he crossed the cockpit, the apparition did not follow. He watched as it lingered, churning in its place, seeming to grow smaller as it hovered.

Hysterical panic gripped him as quickly as the nausea had disabled him. Quade looked around for a weapon, but had none that would be of any use against a black vapor. It gathered itself into the corner of the ceiling, teeming with rage, it seemed. Quade was regaining enough of his senses to try and call for help and he stumbled toward the console to send a distress signal. Before he got there, the creature charged again.

He tried to shout but choked on the sound, and again the invisible force encompassed Quade. It was as if a transparent bubble protected him somehow, and though the apparition still lingered around him, shrouding him in its dark energy, it's sickening magnetic pull, it could not break though to get at him. It was like watching spattering, splashing black ink against a window as it tried to reach him, to penetrate through, but something was keeping it out. Just as he was about to call up the emergency channel to transmit his distress call, he heard a shrill, squealing frenzied shriek that was gone almost before it sounded, and the creature ripped itself away from Quade and shot back to the ceiling. It pulsed and churned for a second then began to absorb into the bulkhead, rising through the metal, out of his ship and into open space.
 

It disappeared from Quade's sight for a minute, and he pressed his face against his forward viewers to try to see where it went, as it still did not read on his sensors. And then at the corner of the wide, arcing window, he could see it again, obscured against the deepness of space. Quade's hands grasped blindly over the control panel, rolling the directional trackball beneath his palm, guiding his ship to port so that he could better see where the ominous cloud was heading. He watched, numb and in shocked disbelief as the apparition began to dissipate as it moved toward the Bet/Kos nexus. Slowly, languidly, it crossed the short distance, noticeably losing the swiftness it had displayed just a moment ago. It came upon the arc of the nexus then seeped into invisibility as it disappeared into the very place that Quade had intended to jump his ship just moments ago.