Page 10 of Hope Forged
The door sealed, and the pilot launched the shuttle. Illan glimpsed Issneen on the forevids for a few minutes: the gray soil, red ocean, and pink skies. Despite the flames licking the Maloidian steel surface of the shuttle, they breached the atmosphere with nary a bump.
He hadn’t lied when he said he was grateful for the crew. All the males Xeus had assigned to him were respected, older than the usual elite warrior, and more than skilled. Ulta steered the kuta toward the waiting scimitarCeleeri—Xeus’s personal ship. It gleamed white against the backdrop of stars and multiple battleships. Its teardrop design promised swiftness—apt for that was the meaning behind its ancient name.
Medic Coll sat in a seat, his gaze distant.
Data Officer Brac sifted through information on his optical data implant, or O.D.I., embedded in his right wrist.
Three males were more than enough to crew the ship. Illan didn’t believe he needed a sub-commander, engineer, and many armed warriors, not for a reconnaissance mission. Macy had wanted to send battleships as escorts, but Illan had argued that they wouldn’t keep up with a scimitar-class ship and would therefore be redundant. She’d conceded, thank Elorach, for he couldn’t stomach any further delays. As soon as they docked on theCeleeri, the door to the kuta opened. They disembarked in the spacious bay and headed to their respective stations.
“Commencing departure sequence. Five minutes,” Ulta said across the ship’s comms.
“How strong was the signal?” Illan asked Brac, trailing him to the war room.
“Weaker than I would prefer.” Brac furrowed his brow, his concern evident. “We are traveling there, intent on a rescue, when what awaits us is unknown. Space can distort sound depending on the distance it traveled. Whoever called for help might not be there when we arrive.”
Illan frowned. “So, when it was sent could be years ago?”
“Yes.” Brac glanced at him. “Regardless of the source, something had to have triggered the distress beacon. I am hoping we find evidence of this.”
“Same,” Illan said and settled into the comfy to the rear of the comm room, content to watch Ulta pilot them away from Etteria.
His gut urged him to stay the course. Something awaited him. Whatever it was, it would impact his life, more so than meeting Quin and Macy had. Iddan hadn’t understood what was driving Illan to head toward this unknown signal. If he found a single Durn, that was for the good of their species. Anything else was…gravy as Quin would say. Whatever that meant.
He typed this question into his O.D.I. and chuckled at the answer.
If you achieve the essential or most important part of a task, the remaining, easier, or less significant aspects, are a bonus and not a concern.
He liked that. Liked her meat-and-potatoes adage, too. Usually those food items were swimming in a brown liquid—gravy. Humans were so colorful with their languages.
Once the comm’s forevids were filled with open space, Illan rose to his feet. “May I order a hot chocolate for you?” He swept his gaze over the room.
“I will join you,” Brac said, striding toward him. “I shall bring a cup for you, Ulta.”
“My thanks,” the male said.
“I have studied this signal as you requested,” Brac said, waiting for Illan to lead the way to the common. “It is most intriguing. It does resemble that of a Durn research vessel, though our examples of such a ship’s existence are too few for me to be certain.” He tapped his O.D.I. as Illan ordered three cups of steaming hot chocolate. “This vessel was once common for Durn xenologists, suiting their purposes for extensive travel and overall survivability.” He spun the 3D schematic of a ship hovering an inch above his wrist.
“That sounds promising,” Illan said, handing Brac a cup. “Thank you for digging deeper. Much information was lost when my planet imploded.”
“Have you found anything in the archives to indicate why?” Brac asked, sipping from his cup before his eyes widened and he took a bigger gulp. “Tectonic movements, gravitational disruption, stellar expansion, high-energy imp—”
“No, just that the core became unstable.” Illan had spent months sifting through data. Having pursued so many avenues, the sheer effort wasted was enough to bow his shoulders. “Who knows how or over what stretch of time? The dominant theory isthat we drained it for the power the possible cures needed when the plague struck.”
“Historical events can be devastating to learn about.”
Brac spoke the truth, and his words lay heavy on Illan’s heart. Etterians had endured, almost losing their ability to birth females thanks to the Durn’s DNA mutations. They hadn’t fully understood the side effects of the Ethera when they’d created the lifemate bond in an effort to tame the Etterians’ more volatile nature.
He met and held Brac’s gaze. “Surviving it more so.”
Brac grunted, took Ulta’s cup, and returned to the comm, leaving Illan to stew in his thoughts. He’d brought data cubes to continue his sorting through the Etterian archives. Something in there had to be of worth. A nugget, nothing more, was all he asked for. But his efforts had so far been fruitless.
He valued the data on myths, legends, industrial processes, birthing categories, and DNA splicing, especially pertaining to life-fusions and the Ethera’s conception. All valuable. But that wasn’t what he searched for when they no longer had the skill to make any genetic modifications to help save the Etterian species.
What had happened to Durn, his homeworld? A simple question with its answer remaining elusive. The cultures that had existed then hadn’t documented the historic event, well, not enough to satisfy his compulsion to know the details, to somehow solve the mystery.
He sipped his hot beverage and hummed, appreciating its creamy sweetness. Putting too much expectation on this trip would surely disappoint. But this was the best hope he’d stumbled on in a while. Something had to come from this. And if he didn’t learn anything new, he’d try not to let it destroy the sliver of hope he clung to. What he should do was take a page out of Macy’s book and enjoy the adventure.
As much as her carefree joy was contagious, he found adapting to it was easier said than done.
