Chapter IX

Dhir's son was the boy they had first seen in the outer corridors, and he was a talented artist. He took pieces of old, corroded metal panels and ground them into a fine dust, adding small amounts of water or even food paste, to make a remarkably effective paint. Different metals made different colors for him, and he made canvas out of unused blankets or, more often, the walls near his tent.

It was ideal for anyone here to have a hobby of some kind, for there was not really any work for anyone to do but what little maintenance they knew how to perform. If it were not for the strong ability of the exiles to meditate, most of them would be bored into insanity.

The boy's name was Jalni, he was the only person there who bothered to express happiness in a waking state. He would have been a natural leader, had there been a direction in which to lead anyone. In the past year, Ordin had gotten to know the boy fairly well. Partly, Ordin believed, because Jalni reminded him of his own son, yet another lost in the fabled burning. Beyond his tortured memories, Ordin thought that Jalni was a genuine friend, something that was rare in his life, even in his own millennium.

That day, the commander came to Jalni's wall in the synthetic afternoon. When he got there, the boy was on his ladder against the wall, continuing work on the huge mural that he'd been working on for many months. It was a story, chronicling the past and future of the Kushan people in a gigantic picture. The art was abstract, but when Ordin looked at it, all his experiences unrolled and became clear, as if he could see that it was okay after all, that everything was exactly as it should have been. It was an image that, somehow, made no sense in itself, and yet gave meaning to the entire world around it.

"I've almost finished the first part!" Jalni said, his voice bright. His accent that had once been so alien, was now as clear as any Hiigaran voice, to Ordin.

"It is a long story."

"Older than you and me, traveler." It was a word most of the Hiigarans called him by, though he knew not, exactly, why. Jalni smiled and continued his work on a bright circle, a moon or planet, perhaps.

There was a shape in the completed portions of the mural that looked stunningly similar to the shape of the Kushan mothership, and a blue and green circle that was remarkably reminiscent of Hiigara, nearby. Any resemblance as strong as this was incredible, considering that Ordin had specifically instructed his crew not to tell any of the Hiigarans about the future of their people. Either someone had gone and given very vibrant descriptions in direct violation of his orders, or...

"What inspires you, Jalni? Where do you see these things?"

The boy stopped and turned around. "We all see them, in the trance."

Ordin was fascinated by this, but asked no more questions. He sat back on a mat and looked up at the wall as the boy continued the work.

 

* * *

The power had gone out. Ziir watched all his so carefully constructed mechanisms fold up and deactivate like flowers growing in reverse. Before he could do anything, the entire core had shut off. The tubes went limp in his hands, and all his work for the past week was undone before his eyes.

His anger had torn a few panels off the walls. When it had passed, he was left filled with utter resentment and despair. He had felt so close to a working hyperdrive, and now he knew all too well that he lacked the resources to fulfill the dream.

He stumbled down the ramps, back into the harsh glare of the central chamber. His face dripped with sweat, his pulsing blood burned his veins... He needed desperately to remove the tension that was filling him now. So he walked around the place, down all the streets, around all the walls, passing his tent more than once. At some point, he became claustrophobic and tired of having walls nearby. So he turned, and began walking toward the center of the chamber. There would be less oxygen there, so he promised himself that if he found the center, he would leave within ten minutes.

And soon he reached the center, and it was nice to be there. It was empty, more than anywhere else on the ship... No blankets, no tents, not even the crowds of people... Just the smooth, blank metal beneath his bare feet, and the ceiling so far above, and the walls, obscured by haze, in the distance. He took a long, deep breath, and wheezed it back out. No, there was not much oxygen here. Ziir savored the view.

But then he noticed that he was not alone. There were a few people nearby, in a small circle... They were covered in cloth that seemed to blend seamlessly with the paneling beneath. The people were still, in a trance-state, it seemed.

Ziir approached them, as quietly as he could. He came very close... The air was still cold from the night, and his breath made clouds in front of him. Then he noticed that the people in the circle were not breathing... he watched them for more than thirty seconds and saw no sign of exhale from a single one of them. At first he thought they were dead, but he could hear something, like a quiet, sustained humming from them. And somehow, he could feel that they were alive, he could feel a heat rising from them. Still, it seemed miraculous that anyone could survive out here for long, with so little breathable air.

And their presence was calming to him, as if their trance was expanding beyond them, into his own mind. He watched them for a moment.

A voice startled him. He turned around to see an old man who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. "Hello, traveler. What brings you here?"

Ziir swallowed. "N-nothing. I'm just..." he sighed. "Trying to relax, I guess. Life has... Just seemed to pointless, recently." his mouth said, not entirely with his permission.

The man took a breath of the stale air, as if it was normal. His ancient voice came, "Life is many things. I do not believe that 'pointless' is one of them. Especially for you."

The words were comforting.

"Come, over here, sit down, and I will see if I can teach you to relax."

Ziir nodded and began walking, but stopped abruptly when the old man did not. Instead, the man leapt into the air and flew through it, ever so slowly, his feet almost two meters above the floor. He came down and landed, ten meters from where he started, not at all shaken by the impact. He turned around and looked at Ziir, wondering why he hadn't followed.

"What was that?"

The man smiled, showing his missing teeth. He seemed to laugh, slightly, or as much as his withered lungs would permit him. "I'm sorry, I had thought you knew." He smiled again. "That is a weakness in the artificial gravity field, I think."

"You think." Ziir croaked. He tried it... He jumped as hard as he could into the air, but his movement was unremarkable. He came back down, having moved no more than a normal distance upwards, and landed with a normal thud. He looked, confused, back at the old man.

"Well, try again. This time, think about it. Don't just expect to fly forward... Try closing your eyes and imagining it happening."

Ziir was skeptical, but tried it. He shut his eyes and jumped forward. He didn't feel anything unusual, but when he opened his eyes, he was flying through the air, gliding slowly down toward the metal ground. He shrieked and landed on his back, with a painful bump. "What in Sajuuk's name was that?"

The man shrugged, simply. "I don't really know. The mind makes it work... Some people have found that they can make things happen when they are here. Like that jump, for example. A few can fly around fairly easily, for short distances, at least."

"The mind makes it work... That's a new twist..." he tried it again, and was able to 'think' himself a fair height off the ground. When he reached the peak he became frightened of falling and sank back down... He was puzzled, but decided not to try again for a while, or until his bruises had gone. "There must be a scientific basis for that."

The man smiled slightly. "Probably. Come, sit." He motioned for a small red mat.

Ziir sat down and folded his legs. The man sat facing him, a meter away. His ancient voice moved slowly. "Close your eyes, clear your mind of thought. Breathe gradually."

He did it, and felt his tension begin to subdue itself.

"Let your mind expand... Let yourself float away, away from your head, away from this place... away from this ship... Into space. Fill the void with your mind."

Ziir's thoughts came into clarity... All his awareness of his body and his situation seemed to have left him. He became the void... He was nothing and everything, everywhere and nowhere. It was indeed relaxing. For once in two years, he was completely unconcerned with the prison ship and the fact that he was trapped there.

No wonder, he thought, all the exiles preferred to stay in this trance.

He existed, filling the void in such a way, for a long time. He was happy here, despite all that he knew had happened to him. He'd lost so much in the burning of Kharak, he'd been forced to work off-world for the past ten years just to keep enough money to feed himself, he'd been away from his family for all that time and then he'd become lost in the past with little or no hope of ever returning. Yet he was content with things.

Suddenly, from the void, an image filled his senses... A planet. Sadly, it took him a moment to recognize it as Hiigara. He realized how long he'd been away from it, how much he missed it in life through all his work as an engineer. He'd lived and worked in distant spaceports throughout the galaxy, and the closest he could remember being to the blue planet was on the other side of the transport ship's viewport, the day he'd left. In fact, he his conscious mind had utterly forgotten about Hiigara in all his time on the prison ship.

Now he remembered, and only now did he realize how much he wanted to be home again.

He opened his eyes and saw the withered face of the ancient man staring back at him. The face smiled simply, seeming to have caught a glimpse of the vision. Ziir wondered whether he had ever opened his eyes when the man said, quietly, "Do not worry, Traveler. It is not so far off, anymore."

Ziir looked, questioningly, at the face. He closed his eyes and rubbed them. When he opened them again, it was dark in the cavern, and the man was gone.