“What the hell was that?” Kestok asked, rubbing his neck as he straightened himself.
“I’ve linked you with myself, to allow for translation. It’s why I came with my friends here. Had they come to collect you alone I fear you might have,” Mellok looked down at their hands, “wrenched them to death.”
“Fair,” Meggok said.
“Come on, it’s not a fast trip back, and I have a lot to explain,” Mellok said as he walked out the cargo hold.
The sign outside had declared it to be ‘The Temple of the Ancestors’ but Michael knew a museum when he saw one. As they entered, a gift shop had been converted into an altar of some kind, still with its shelves and desk hewn into the concrete. They had descended through its hallways, following signs that had been decorated like shrines.
“Is this what we’re looking for?” Michael asked as they stood before a huge stone mural. The original words had long since faded, the images kept maintained by regular repainting from the monks who inhabited the museum. Michael wished he could travel back in time, to see the original text. What he was looking at wasn’t particularly clear.
“I guess so, they did say this was the star child exhibit.” Aileena was holding one of the handles on the cylinder, whilst Michael gripped the other. Leaving it alone in the room seemed like a bad idea, considering that the room lacked any kind of lock.
The mural itself showed a planet, a lustrous mix of blues and greens. An object moved towards it from space, an asteroid from what Michael could make out. The next image showed it crashing into the ground, gouts of dust billowing around it.
“So, from this, it looks like an asteroid hit the planet. Wouldn’t the dust from something like that trigger an ice age?” He reached out, touching the stone. Back during his days as a museum guide, he would have shouted at the kids who liked to do this. This mural was supposed to be about him, so he assumed the monks who maintained the museum wouldn’t mind.
“Guess so? I would have thought the impact alone would have killed a lot of people.”
The mural continued. Blue scratches with pointed claws were pouring out of a crater, killing at will. Figures were drawn on the ground, red paint splashed liberally around them. The next image showed the tower. Behind it, something streaked upwards, a line of orange and reds, a star ascending to the heavens.
“This looks like a launch, right?”
“Yeah, it does,” Aileena said. “You think this is where the star child thing comes from? They launched maybe a probe or a message, asking for help?”
“Makes sense, I can see how that might become a prophecy over, shit… millennia? Is that how long Gravult said?” Michael removed his hand from the wall.
“Yeah, I think so. By the Rhythm, these people have been waiting for an answer for all these years. I wonder why they didn’t just leave? They clearly had the technology. That city is something else.”
“Is it?” Michael said. “I’ll be honest, everything I’ve seen so far leaves Earth in the dust. I have no idea what’s normal or not.” He leant forward. “Look at this, these little pink dashes amongst the ice crabs. You think those are the crystals?”
“Could be. So, these things didn’t appear until the same time? Can’t be a coincidence.”
“Hah,” Michael said. “The past few days have been full of weird coincidences. That wouldn’t even make top three.”
The blimps engines spun almost silently, the crystal powering them letting off only a slight hum. Kestok was sat in the corner of the chamber, Michael’s cylinder in his lap. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the thing after seeing it, aside from to examine the power systems of everything he came across.
“You just form a circuit and the power comes from… where? Where are you getting it all from?” He was whispering to the crystal, though he was really talking to himself.
Michael hadn’t slept, not very well. The bed in his room was somehow worse than his one on the Seeker. Not that he would have slept anyway, the images from the mural kept running through his mind. If the Vystok was an asteroid, how exactly was he supposed to slay it? He couldn’t fight nature or rewind time. He had resolved himself to explain his thoughts to Gravult, but the Merydian prime minister hadn’t let him get a word in edgeways when he had met him in the morning, instead whisking Michael and his crew off to what he had claimed was a sumptuous breakfast but was, in fact, a collection of stodgy mushrooms. Michael remembered what Gravult had said, about the mushroom farmers in the caves. He realised anything not from the interior of the tower must seem exotic.
The blimp shook as it came to a stop, its doors swinging open. Michael was pleased to see it had been brought down low, close to another outcropping of rock. The trip hadn’t been long, according to Gravult they were just travelling to another mountain nearby.
Michael stepped into the light, his friends following. He took in his surroundings. Nearby was another blimp, this time much smaller, the cabin no larger than a car.
“That one’s a bit on the small side isn’t it,” Brekt said. “Not sure I would fit in there.”
“Ah,” Gravult said, hobbling out in front. “That’s my daughter’s. She’s quite the skilled technician, built her own airship. Of course, that means she is always out here, doing her research. It’s dangerous out here, alone. Not that she will listen. I would imagine she is inside the Sword. She always is.”
“Sorry,” Michael said, “inside?”
“Ah, yes, look behind you.”
Michael turned, his comrades doing the same. Half buried in the rock, jutting out from the side of the mountain, was the unmistakable image of starship engines. The vessel was huge, easily the size of a Substrate dreadnought. It had the shape of a sweeping blade, long wingtips stretching from the engines that swept up into a point. It had come crashing into the mountain nose first, the rockface losing the battle as the ship had slid into the caves, carving its way through.
“That, star child, knower, is The Sword of Truth.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The climb up was tiring, a series of long brass ladders creeping up the mountainside towards the stricken ship. Gravult led the way, using the hook on the top of his cane for grip, pulling himself up the ladders. Behind Michael, Kestok carried the cylinder, the heavy metal object lifted with almost embarrassing ease. Above them the ship loomed, stretching out from its stony prison. It had looked so close when they had landed, only now was Michael truly appreciating its size. He wondered exactly how much was buried beneath the mountain, how much damage had it done when it had come so clearly crashing into the rock.
“God my arms are killing me,” Michael said. A dull throbbing had built up in his shoulders. “You know, I’m rapidly learning that humans are a bit rubbish. We can’t speak every language, we don’t have amazing eyesight, we can’t climb like the Merydians, and we’re nowhere near as strong as whatever race the boys are.”
“The human troopers we met seemed plenty strong,” Meggok said. “You just need to maybe hit the benches a little, do some lifts. I can help you if you like? Set up a real killer regime.”
“No, no you’re fine. I think my arms might just fall off after this.”
“Human, is that what you are, star child? Your people?” Gravult had raced on ahead, already reaching the small plateau before the next ladder where his ever-present bodyguards waited. He reached out with a furry hand, helping Michael clamber up.
“Yeah, we’re from a planet called earth, uh third from sol. I guess that means nothing to you?” Michael stretched his shoulders, trying to breathe life back into his muscles.