The Sword had been landed near the town, every inch of the ship checked over by Kestok and his apprentice. The modifications had been a rousing success, dealing with the Unmind fleet easily, but Kestok had been worried about the additional strain on the Sword. For the past few months, he had stripped and reassembled nearly everything he could get his hands on, much to the annoyance of Clive. The AI was more and more identifying as the ship itself. He had even slipped once or twice, the façade that he was human fading as he admitted he was a starship.
The townsfolk had gathered to see the Sword off. They were understandably nervous, the Sword was the closest thing Eden had to defences, but the Seeker was simply too small to collect the planned number of passengers. Eden had been placed just outside of the Euria system as a compromise. Far enough into the void that it wouldn’t be detected, but close enough that the Sword’s return jump would take just seconds.
Even the Custodian had joined the throng. When the machine wasn’t deep beneath the ground working on some arcane system or the other, it had spent its time simply wandering the town, trying to engage the populace in conversations. It wasn’t surprising, he had millions of years of loneliness to work off.
Michael had tried broaching the subject of Eden with the machine a few times. He had so many questions about the people who had built it. What were they like? How long had they lived-on Earth? What happened to them? The Custodian hadn’t been particularly helpful. He simply wasn’t programmed with the information. He only existed to maintain the artificial world, everything else was superfluous. All he knew was that Eden was built originally as part of a project designed to preserve the people and culture of the now-dead race. Exactly why they felt the need to build planets, rather than simply colonising others was a mystery, one that unsettled Michael.
What the Custodian did have was an image. A simple hologram it could project representing its builders. Michael had been a little disappointed. The shimmering glowing image the Custodian had summoned was simply a feathered humanoid. Michael wasn’t sure what he had expected, the idea of dinosaur people had filled his mind with possibilities, but the creature projected could walk around Brekt’s Landing and Michael wouldn’t bat an eye.
That had all been before Michael had taken his tumble. In the days since, he had stayed aboard the Sword. No matter what Kerbok and Clive said, something was different. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what but straying unnecessarily from Clive’s ready supply of reinforcements seemed like a particularly bad idea now. Michael had been seeing the images every time he slept, though they weren’t as clear, much closer to a normal dream. That’s what he assumed they were, his mind trying to make sense of the nightmares he had seen. He had kept quiet about them, not wanting to worry his friend further.
Michael shifted his weight off the airlock’s door frame. This had been the same one he first stepped foot through when they had boarded the Sword all those months ago. The discovery of the recyclers meant that it was finally fixable, the damaged door tossed into the machines and then spat out as brand new. A ramp had extended out from the airlock, though the angle it had taken meant it was a steep climb rather than an easy walk. Michael’s cracked rib had throbbed as he scrambled up it. The Sword was an amazing ship, but on occasion, it could be incredibly awkward, a result of it being built by a species that could climb as easily as they breathed.
“Everything ready?” Aileena was clambering up the ramp on all fours. Seemed she struggled as much as Michael did.
“Apparently.” Michael shrugged. He had been taking lessons on piloting the Seeker, mainly so he didn’t feel useless, but the Sword was still beyond him.
“Good.” Aileena pulled herself into the airlock, taking a seat on its edge and dangling her legs down the ramp. “I appreciate the send-off, but it’s like we’re leaving forever.”
“To be fair, the last time we left, we did bring back some alien warships.”
“We haven’t seen them since. Looks like however they found us was a one-time deal.”
“Maybe.” Michael scanned the crowd, looking at the dozens of faces. They were smiling, but it was all fake. False grins to hide nerves. It was understandable, everyone here had already lost one home. “Maybe they’ll be waiting for us at Euria. We don’t know that.”
“It’s not like you to be this gloomy.”
“What? It’s exactly like me? All I’ve done since leaving Earth is complain about things trying to kill me.”
Aileena chuckled. “Yeah, but you were always more upbeat about it. Something has changed in you. You sound more… despondent.” She stood up, gripping the frame of the airlock as she did. “Look, we’ll go to Euria, we’ll pick up the monks and Brekt’s family and then we’ll be back. A nice easy trip, for a change. Should lighten your mood.”
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Maybe getting a win would lighten my mood.”
“See, it’s already working. Plus, we can get some supplies, we didn’t spend any of the money after all. Might be nice to eat something other than mushrooms and those Rhythm damned tins.”
Michael shuddered, a motion that caused his side to ache. The tins reclaimed for the warehouse on Purnax had contained odd balls of purple jelly. According to the Purnaxians, it was a kind of pickled jellyfish. It had tasted bitter, not unlike prunes, and Michael had discovered a few hours later that they had roughly the same effect on the human digestive system. He had avoided them since, a difficult task considering Meggok had taken to using them to add some much-needed flavour to his various mushroom dishes.
“You know, you told me once that everyone on Euria is either a mercenary or a farmer. That there wasn’t much else to do there,” Michael said. A thought was forming, bubbling to life at the forefront of his mind.
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“Well, rather than buying supplies, we should buy seeds. That will help us more in the long run, right? Might have to put up with the mushrooms for a while, but eventually, we can have a ton of different things going.”
“Huh. Yeah, that’s a great idea.”
“Well, you know what they say. Give a man a fish, and he’ll eat for a day. Teach a man to fish and he’ll eat for a lifetime.”
Aileena let out a long laugh. “Don’t let Mellok hear that. He’ll add it to that book he’s writing. Another cosmic truth from the mouth of the Knower.”
“A book? He’s writing a book.” Michael’s head tilted upwards his eyes closed in frustration. “That’s the last thing I need. A bloody bible. You know, how do they know I’m not this Teller of Lies figure?”
“I think if you were, we would know by now. You’re not exactly the universe destroying type.”
“I suppose not. There’s still time for that though, what with our luck and all.”
“Please don’t wish destruction on the universe,” Aileena said with a smile. “I live there.”
“Listen if I were some evil anti-messiah, you would be fine. I would need a general for my evil army, after all. Plus, villains always get the best outfits.”
Orson stared at the uniform. It had hung in his closet aboard the Gallant, pushed away so he didn’t have to look at it. The Council’s uniform had never sat right on him, the tailoring just slightly off. It was dark grey with red lining and consisted of a jacket and straight cut trousers. The jacket was supposed to be worn on its own, but Orson had always snuck a shirt underneath, the fabric was scratchy and itched at his skin. He was only now realising it was a metaphor for his time in the Council military, short though it was.
He had replaced the uniform as soon as he could, swapping it for an alien pair of trousers that were reasonably close to cargo pants. He had a selection of vests and shirts, all recovered from the storerooms of captured comms stations, the crew’s civilian clothes. They fitted Orson well enough. Whilst the Council was made up of a bewildering array of races, most of them had two arms and two legs, the humanoid form apparently successful enough to evolve in parallel across the galaxy.