Wormhole Pirates on Orbis (40 page)

“Please,” I begged. “I was hoping for a little more time.”

“I am sorry. I have done everything I could just to let you stay this phase,” Theylor said.

“I’ve been here a whole phase?”

Reluctantly, I turned from my frozen vigil and followed Theylor out of the room, entrusting my sister to the Nagools. When I thought about waking up the next cycle not knowing a thing about my sister’s condition, I felt as if a Neewalker had clamped his hands around my throat, trapping the air inside me. It scared me and I hated it.

A small domed craft waited on a rail of shorter pillars next to a platform. I followed Theylor aboard, and we sat in silence during the short trip to the surface. It gave me time to think. What had happened? Why Ketheria? No one had any answers for me, but that didn’t mean no one knew. I had heard stories of other Scions and the horrible fates they met. No matter what part of the universe they came from, new Scions were always persecuted by one group or another, tested until they broke. I had also heard tales of the Tonat, the guardian entrusted to protect the Scion once the awakening was complete. That’s who they wanted me to be. But if the Tonat was so important, why was I leaving my sister behind? It didn’t make sense, but then, when had my life on the rings ever made sense? No one ever explained anything here. Three rotations had taught me that most people on the Rings of Orbis protected their knowledge more than they did an Orodi Orb.

Once we disembarked from the small craft, I followed Theylor up a wide staircase that led to two metal doors, scuffed and marred by eons of use. At the top of the stairs, Theylor paused and turned to me. “Others may have come to see the Scion,” he said, as if it were a warning.

“I thought no one knew where Magna was located.”

“Idolatry has a unique way of bringing light to the blind,” he replied.

When Theylor pushed back the thick doors, the glassy glow from a distant star burnished my eyes, and faster than my pupils could contract, a throng of aliens burst upon us.

“Who are these people, Theylor?”

“Worshippers,” he replied, holding up his hand to the crowd. The effect seemed to push the people back, which allowed us to move forward. “I did not expect to see so many. I am afraid news of the Scion has spread quickly. This is not good.”

“Why is the Scion so important to them?”

“It has been a very long time since a Scion has been discovered. In fact, most people thought it was no longer possible. Your sister is their last hope.”

There must have been thousands of people gathered there. Every one of them seemed to be whispering something at me. Hushed pleas called to me from every side as we pushed through the crowds.

“They worship my sister?”

“They worship the Scion,” he said, as if Ketheria was a separate entity entirely. “And some even worship the Tonat.”

“I’m not the Tonat, Theylor. The Trust said
I
have to make that choice, and I don’t want to be a Space Jumper. In order to be the Tonat, I have to be a Space Jumper.”

“I believe the Trust merely presented you with that choice as a gesture.”

“A gesture of what?”

“To appease your fierce need to control your own existence. I wonder how much choice you actually have in this matter.”

“What does that mean, Theylor? It
is
my choice.”

But Theylor did not respond. It frustrated me to be fed these cryptic answers all the time.

“If this is so important, why won’t you tell me anything else?” I shouted as more people pushed in on us, but Theylor did not answer. His attention was now on the crowd. More and more people rushed toward us, and the crush was beginning to smother me. One alien tugged at my vest, another simply rubbed her hands over me, while another squawked in my face. Theylor tried to force them back, but that only created an opening for more to pour into.

“Theylor!”

“I’m trying,” he grunted.

The crowd now engulfed me. I could no longer see the sky and had lost sight of Theylor in a sea of wanting hands.

“I have nothing to give you!” I shouted. “I can’t help you.”

Then someone struck me. It was a quick blow to my forehead, but still painful.

PJ HAARSMA
has always been transfixed by what lies beyond our solar system. He says, “When the mother ship finally arrives and they ask if there are any humans who want to go for a spin, I’ll be the first to sign up.” When he’s not gazing at the stars waiting for his ride, you can find him on the Rings of Orbis, the online universe that he created for the Softwire series, which has spawned a legion of loyal fans. He has a degree in science and lives in southern California with his wife and daughter. To learn more about PJ Haarsma, visit his website at
www.pjhaarsma.com
.