The Phoenix Rising (13 page)

The younger Polarian, whose deep blue skin
contrasted noticeably with the pale grey of his father’s, bowed his
head in submission. Rez’nac accepted the gesture and began the
religious rite. He uttered a sort of prayer, asking the ancestor
essences to protect the ship from the dark spirits wandering the
cosmos, the black forces of space, and the negative energy that
causes death.

As Rez’nac chanted, which he did in the
human language—no doubt for the benefit of Calvin and Rain—the
others joined in, vocalizing their own contributions to the prayer.
They chanted in unison in Polarian. Calvin had no idea what the
others were saying. Their language was beautiful, despite being
incomprehensible, and had a melodious quality. Almost like
singing.

Together, as if on cue, the Polarians raised
their arms and held them outstretched, high towards the
ceiling—almost touching it, and their prayer increased in ferocity.
Fire burned in their eyes, the glow of devout passion that Calvin
had seen in only the most pious. Even religious humans typically
performed their rites more out of habit than heart, but here he saw
genuine faith in action. It was a powerful thing. Almost
frightening. And seeing this fierce religious devotion burning in
the Polarian eyes, and radiating from their faces, and echoing in
their almost song-like prayer, he understood why the Polarian
religious leaders were said to have such influence over the
Confederacy, despite having no technical political power.

“
It’s beautiful,” whispered
Rain.

“
Yes,” Calvin agreed,
although scary seemed like a more appropriate word. He needed only
to glance at history to see the kinds of feats, both amazing and
diabolical, that people could do when charged with an almost
spiritual mandate. Whether commanded by God, or some other higher
power or reason, it was impressive, and frightening, what people
had accomplished.

The prayer ritual took over thirty minutes
and involved many other poses and gestures. The circle rotated
around Rez’nac, who remained fixed at the center—facing the window
out into space, and the tones of the prayer varied from loud and
enthusiastic to hushed and reverent, but always the passion of true
belief was there.

Calvin watched them, surprised to find he
was never bored. In them, in their passionate devotion, he saw a
kind of fire that he did not understand. He thought that ultimately
their beliefs were founded on superstitious nonsense, but despite
having a fictional origin they were very real. The Polarians made
them real. They glowed with purpose and clarity. Their universe was
not shades of frustrating grey; it was simple, defined, and clear.
He pitied them for not being free to develop their own individual
beliefs—and yet he admired their unity. Rez’nac ended the prayer
with a renewed vow of allegiance to his calling, as a part of the
essence of Khalahar, and his commitment to lead this small
brotherhood in righteous ways so that they would achieve the glory
of those who’d gone on before. Having done a little research,
Calvin now understood that Polarians believed their honored dead
lived on not as individual spirits but as part of great collectives
called essences. Khalahar was considered one of the highest ranking
essences—making Rez’nac a big deal to the other Polarians.

At some point in a male Polarian’s life, he
would be sorted into a caste. Their castes, which reflected
tremendous inequality and defined what that person would spend his
life doing, were not decided by lineage, or tests, but by arbitrary
classification, which stated what one’s essence was. The Polarian
Seers sorted the young Polarians—apparently randomly—into their
essences. Which was something they could never change. To them that
branding was unimpeachably true. A more accurate reflection of
their identity than their imperfect flesh. A very interesting
culture to Calvin, but not one he wished to be a part of.

The ritual ended and Rez’nac excused the
other Polarians. As they filed out, he approached Calvin and Rain.
“Thank you for joining us. I hope our ways are agreeable to
you.”

“
Yes,” said Calvin, not
exactly sure what Rez’nac was implying. “Your people are obviously
very spiritual and sincere,” he tried not to sound condescending.
Truthfully he wasn’t sure what response would be appropriate. He
was glad to have been here and observed it, but wasn’t very
interested in repeating the experience. Not because he was
anti-religion, he wasn’t, he simply didn’t relate.

“
Your ways are beautiful,”
said Rain. “Even if I could only follow them a little.”

“
Thank you, you are both
free to join us as often as you wish,” Rez’nac smiled, though the
expression didn’t flatter him. His teeth were too jagged and fierce
and the harsh muscles of his face and jaw only tightened—a
predator’s smile.

“
Thanks, I’ll… think about
it,” said Calvin.

Rain merely nodded. Rez’nac accepted this
and left Calvin and Rain alone on the observation deck.

Rain walked over to the great window—it
showed nothing but the expansive black nothingness of alteredspace.
She took in a deep breath and absorbed the scene, as if the
pervasive emptiness was a beautifully woven tapestry. “Do you
suppose they’re right?” she asked, not looking at him.

“
What?” He walked up to her
and stared out the window too, trying to see what had captivated
her. There was only blackness and their vague reflections bouncing
off the window. He noted a look of perfect calm on Rain’s
face.

“
The Polarians,” she said.
“Do you think they’re right?”

“
About what?”

“
That their ancestors watch
over them?”

“
No,” said Calvin. “Do
you?”

“
I admit I believe something
is out there,” she said, not taking her eyes away from the window.
“It has to be.”

Calvin wasn’t so sure. It was a question
that sometimes kept him up at night. He didn’t know the purpose of
life, or the universe. He’d never conclusively decided if it was
designed or randomly generated. If he was a puppet on a stage or a
mere accident. The depth and complexity of the mystery, and
humankind’s ultimate destiny within it, made him squirm. He usually
avoided thinking about it.

“
Do you think something is
out there?” she asked, looking at him.

“
A lot of stuff is out
there,” he said. “Stars, planets, black holes—”

“
You know what I mean,” she
said, interrupting him gently. “A designer. An ultimate purpose.
The clockwork perfection of the universe. The improbability that
we’d ever come to be. And yet here we are. It all seems like...
part of something much, much bigger than we can see.”

“
Maybe,” said Calvin.
“Although if we were designed, it does beg the question of who
designed the designer.”

Rain shrugged. “Maybe God is a sentient
thinking being. Maybe God is merely the natural forces of the
universe itself. I don’t know,” she gave him a candid look. “I have
no idea. But I believe something is out there. We’re more than just
the sum of our parts.”

Calvin nodded. He supposed that was as
possible as anything else, but he didn’t claim to know anything for
sure. Nor did he believe anyone could. Sometimes he thought of
Christine and fantasized about an existence post-death that would
re-unite him with her. Like she stood at the platform of an ancient
rail station waiting for him. But it was wishful thinking. He
didn’t like the idea that Christine, Monte, and so many other good
people were lost forever. That their wonderful uniqueness, colorful
personalities, and beautiful characters had now ceased to be. But
there was no compelling evidence that he could see to think
otherwise.

Perhaps the Polarians were not so strange,
he supposed. He could understand the need for some kind of answer
to the ultimate question. Even if it turned out to be a wrong
answer, it still offered them a sense of purpose and closure.

“
Are you afraid to die?”
asked Rain.

Calvin had to think about it before
replying. “Yes,” he eventually admitted. He wasn’t terrified of
death, but the inevitability of it—and inescapability—gnawed at him
from time to time.

“
Why?” asked Rain. “Death
comes for everyone. It is a part of life. Why fear it?”

“
Because it’s an unknown,”
said Calvin. “Humans usually fear the unknown. And death is an
irreversible state. There’s no coming back from it. And it very
easily could be the end of all your dreams, pleasures, and
hopes.”

“
Death doesn’t bother me,”
she said, sincerity in her voice. “The way I see it, we are all
spectacularly lucky to have ever been alive at all. It is such a
privilege to be a part of this great, beautiful mystery, to see a
glimpse of it. To play a role on the center stage, even if for just
the briefest of moments. We got the grand chance to be a part of
the greatest story ever told. However it began, however it ends,
doesn’t matter. It’s wonderful just to experience even a fragment
of it. With all its marvels and flaws, all its pleasures and pains.
What a magnificent opportunity.”

“
That’s one way of looking
at it,” said Calvin, a bit surprised by Rain’s optimism.

“
If I looked at it any other
way,” she said, again staring out the window. “If I feared death,
or the unknown, or the inevitable… I couldn’t be as happy as I am
just embracing the sliver of time that I have.”

As Calvin looked at her, and heard her raw
conviction, he knew these were not empty words. She was genuinely
at peace with death. More so than anyone he’d ever met. It was a
curious thing, and he wondered how she’d freed herself.

“
Well, it was nice talking
to you,” he said, not quite sure how best to break away from the
situation. “It’s been fun but I really need to get some
sleep.”

“
Of course,” she said,
shooting him a warm smile. “The pleasure was mine. See you when you
come in for your check-up and physical.”

“
Nice try.”

***

Calvin’s dreamless sleep was interrupted by
the chirp of the alert panel. He took only a moment to rub his eyes
and collect his bearings before lurching out of bed and rushing to
take the call.

“
What is it?” he croaked. A
glance at the desk clock revealed he’d only slept for two
hours.

“
The ship received a high
priority message addressed to you,” said second lieutenant Vargas
over the speaker. He was acting in the role of second officer and
commander of Red Shift, even though Calvin hadn’t officially
promoted anyone to the position.

“
I assume the message is
encoded,” he said.

“
Yes, sir. The message is
encoded and came through the most secure channels. Your ears only,
sir.”

“
Understood. I’ll take it in
here.” He was a mess and his hair was tangled but he didn’t want to
postpone an urgent call just so he could improve his
appearance.

The display came to life and he entered an
authorization code. The message turned out to be pre-recorded.

“
Calvin,” said the
commanding voice of Princess Kalila. Her smooth, flawless skin,
dark eyes, and waterfall of rich midnight hair were captivating. He
stopped himself before she could reel him in completely with her
stupefying charm and beauty. He couldn’t let himself forget that
she was the key suspect in the slaughter of many thousands of
people on Renora.

Besides, Calvin had been played by women
before—most recently by Summers—and he wasn’t about to let that
happen again. True, Summers’ beauty surpassed even Kalila’s. But
somehow Kalila was more irresistible. He supposed it might be the
mystique of her throne, or her tremendous wealth and influence, but
he doubted that was why she had such a strong effect on him.

“
Do not believe the rumors,”
she went on to say, almost pleadingly. “I’ll be in touch
soon.”

The message ended.

He played it again.

“
Calvin, do not believe the
rumors. I’ll be in touch soon.”

Very
interesting
. He took it as a denial that
she’d participated in the attack on Renora. Perhaps her ship had
been seized by an unknown force? Or maybe the ship’s captain had
acted against her will?

The fact that she seemed to believe she
could contact him again and “be in touch soon” implied, that she
was not a prisoner. It was possible that she was a captive, and
this message was sent under duress, but that didn’t really add
up.

He played the message a third time, closely
studying her face. And tried to decide if she was a replicant. It
was impossible to tell for sure, but he believed the message was
indeed sent from the real princess.

He decided he couldn’t do anything more with
this mystery until she contacted him “soon”—whenever that was. So
he returned to bed.

Doubts and concerns haunted him, swirling
around in his mind. And, even though he was exhausted, he had
difficulty finding sleep. He put his head on his pillow and tried
to empty his mind but it was no use.

He wanted equarius. His body pined for it.
It would give him peace. Relax even the most unsettled depths of
his core. Then all the trouble, and the pain, and the anxiety would
fade into nothing. And he could sleep.

No!
He rejected the idea. Equarius had nearly cost him his ship.
It had made him its slave. “I don’t want to be a slave,” he
whispered. “I won’t be a slave.”