Chapter 2

Chapter 2 of Moebius

Chapter 2

 

No matter how brightly the Tantalian sun beamed onto the construction site around Ghina Taea, it could not brighten the shadow that had fallen upon her soul. Before the project had begun, the image of this grand new cathedral in her minds eye had filled her with passion, with its vaulted ceiling, auditorium, balconies, stained glass windows, and Visagence standing tall with arms outstretched. Then, a broadcast had played upon every screen on the planet. An announcement of a new Emperor.

His name had seemed funny at the time. Spellcaster. Who called their child that? When it had come time for him to make a speech, he had said only two words: “Serve me.” Then he had thrust his staff onto the ground, and the entire universe had changed.

Taea had come into this project with no greater desire than to do the work of her God, Drucan. But ever since that moment, she had wanted to live for Spellcaster. Joy could be found nowhere else, and the mere thought of putting anyone or anything before him left her cold, empty, and wanting.

She swung the hammer at the concrete spike, the repetition and physical exertion providing the only retreat she could find, to turn off her thinking mind and exist in the moment. Tack tack tack tack, went the hammer, the spike sinking ever so satisfyingly into the clay dirt. Three steps away she picked up the next spike, placed it over the marked spot on the ground, and tack tack tack.

Nearby, an offworlder boy took a long gulp of water, and then walked up to the foreboy. The worker’s expression looked pained. Taea had seen him before, and his usually pale skin had turned a disturbing shade of red. “Sir,” he said, “may I please have some sunscreen?”

“And why would you want that?” the foreboy asked.

The boy held up his arms and pointed to his face. “Your sun is a lot harsher than the one on my planet, and I don’t have the melanin protection your people do---”

“You think you can leverage your skin color to get special treatment?”

The boy sputtered, and Taea felt sorry for him. Couldn’t the foreboy see he was in pain?

The foreboy pulled out his electronic pad and said, “Look, right here in the Declaration of Imperialism, paragraph three. ‘All conquered subjects of the Tarran Empire shall have rights and privileges equal to those of natural born citizens.’ Equal. You understand? No special privilege sunscreen. So stop acting entitled and get back to work.”

The boy’s features drooped, and he slunk back to his task. Taea vowed to bring sunscreen to work tomorrow to share with him.

When lunch break was called, Taea ate alone. She had grown distant from her friends since the inauguration. Their fervor toward their new Emperor was disturbing to say the least, and the few attempts Taea had made to bring up the question of how moral it was to pine over him so strongly in the context of their shared Ar’eus faith had been dismissed at first, and then derided. All around her those she had depended upon for companionship and community had fallen down the easy path and put another in God’s place.

And Taea, she was tempted badly to do the same. None of her normal religious rituals, not prayer, not worship, not reading the Veritaria, gave her the sense of communion with Drucan she had enjoyed her whole life. Instead, she was bombarded day in and day out with peer pressure and seductive temptation to find that sense of meaning and oneness with another. With Spellcaster, who, though she felt a deep forgotten familiarity with, was totally a stranger. This test she faced was truly comparable with those of the great heroes of scripture.

“I will be strong for you, Drucan,” she whispered. “And though I may stumble and fall many times, I shall not lose my way.”

Sometime during the afternoon shift, a girl in professional clothes showed up at the site and spoke to the foreboy. Taea paid her little mind, until the foreboy called all the workers to gather.

“I’ve just been informed that you’ve all been reassigned. Tomorrow you will board a shuttle and be taken to your new project, the location of which you will not be told, because it is a government secret.”

Taea felt a jolt of elation she was immediately ashamed of. The others around her murmured sounds of enthusiastic surprise. “What of the church?” Taea said.

“The cathedral has been canceled,” the foreboy replied. “Got a problem with that, talk to your new boss tomorrow. It’s not up to me.”

Canceled? Ar’eus’s interests had always been the State’s interests. Could Spellcaster have truly changed society so much in just a few short months that it would leave the interests of the faith in the dust?

“Dear Drucan,” she prayed as she gathered her tools, “give me strength. Any amount at all would be welcome.”

 

* * *

 

“I have to say,” Mara said as the Black Fire dropped out of hyperspace, “Tantalus is not my number one choice for planets I’d like to visit again.”

“Me neither,” Conner said. The comm beeped, and the ID said Tarran Security. Conner looked at Oliver. “Uh . . . Did we already break a law?”

Oliver hesitated. “We shouldn’t be in trouble, not for just showing up in the system. That wouldn’t make sense, right? I mean, you couldn’t arrest everyone who pops by. That would be downright impractical.”

“Well,” Mara said, “if you don’t answer that, they’re gonna get suspicious.”

“You’re right,” Oliver said.

“Should we tell them we’re time travelers?” Conner aksed.

Oliver shrugged. “If they don’t ask, we won’t tell.” He pushed the accept button.

The voice on the other end sounded tired. “Unregistered vessel, please identify yourself and state your intentions.”

“Hello,” Oliver said, “this is the Black Fire of Moebius. We’re here to visit some friends.”

“And who are these friends?”

Oliver looked at Conner, who picked up the ball. “Their names are Irom, Avi, and Shak. They’re Drumani priests in Soria.”

There was an uncomfortably long pause. The three held their breaths, hoping the ruse would work. Finally, the agent said, “Very well. Please proceed to Rigel to receive your visitor’s passes at the procedures center. I am sending you the coordinates. Enjoy your stay, and remember to put in a good word for Tarran with your friends and family when you return.” The transmission ended.

“Back in our day, you could just fly straight to where you wanted to go,” Conner muttered. “This future Tantalus is a lot different from the Tantalus of our time.”

Mara snorted a laugh. “You sound like an old geezer.” The three of them shared a chuckle.

Rigel was Tantalus’s moon. A tiny little thing, with barely enough gravity to make itself spherical. Following the coordinates they had been given, Black Fire coasted onto an airless runway surrounded by plains of rocks and regolith. The runway led into a concrete hangar dug into the side of a hill, its inside lit by utilitarian white tubes.

“Not a very welcoming place,” Conner said.

“Yeah,” Oliver agreed slowly, his eyes darting around the area.

Behind them, the hangar door closed ominously. A loud hiss signified air filling the compartment. When it finished, a voice played over a speaker, “It is safe to disembark. Please proceed to the reception area at the back of the room.”

“I don’t like the way this feels,” Mara said.

“Yeah, it’s definitely fishy,” Conner agreed. “I’m starting to think we shouldn’t have come to this moon.”

Oliver clutched his hair with one hand. “You’re right. Something’s wrong here.”

“Black Fire crew,” the voice said, “please disembark from your vessel. The chamber has been pressurized. It is safe.”

“I think we shouldn’t,” Conner said.

“Agreed,” Mara said. “But what should we do? That door behind us looks pretty thick.”

Oliver’s knuckles had gone white. “Go back in time. Make different choices.”

“We can’t,” Conner said.

“I know that.” Oliver took a deep breath. “It looks like the only option we have is to do what they ask of us. Maybe we’re making a big deal about nothing. Maybe it’s fine.”

They stood up, went down the hall, and triggered the hatch release. It opened, proving at least that there was indeed air outside.

On the other side of the door, they were greeted by a red-haired, light-skinned boy. “Hi,” he said with a cheerful smile, “I’m Erin.” The door closed, revealing two armored Tantalians, who trained their rifles at the trio. “I hope you enjoy your stay. It’s going to be a long one. Please follow me.” Erin turned and walked down the sparsely lit concrete hallway.

“Yeah,” Mara said as they followed him, guns aimed at their backs, “I’m starting to feel like something’s not quite right again.”

“What gave you that idea?” Oliver said.

“Hmm. Can’t put my finger on it.”

“I’m told,” Erin said, “you’re supposed to be special prizes for the Disassembler himself. What an honor! Is it true you’re from the past?”

“Why would we tell you anything?” Conner said.

“Aw, that’s not fair. No matter, that’s what I’ve been told. It’s wonderful to know that Spellcaster’s greatness is not only sweeping over the galaxy now, but also reaching across time.”

“Spellcaster?” Oliver asked. “What’s that?”

“You don’t know?” Erin said. “You poor souls. Spellcaster is the meaning of life. Purpose incarnate. All of existence revolves around him.You’ll see soon enough; his next broadcast will be in just under a week from now.”

“Is he a religious figure or something?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. And also Emperor.”

“I thought the Disassembler was the Emperor,” Conner said.

“That was before he disappeared,” Erin said.

“But now he’s back.”

“And unlucky for him, we have a new Emperor. Here you are! Your new home.” With a flourish, Erin produced a set of keys and opened a door in a set of metal bars. On the other side was a room only twice as big as Black Fire’s cabin. Two small partitions on the far side indicated a shower and a toilet.

“No way,” Oliver said.

“In you go,” Erin said cheerfully.

“You’re putting us all in the same cell?” Conner asked as they entered under the targeting reticules of the guns. “But we’re mixed gender.”

Erin burst out laughing, and the two Tantalians, who had been silent until then, joined in. “That’s your problem, and I’m sure you’ll get over it real fast.” He closed the door with a finalizing clang. “Meals come twice a day, although you won’t be able to tell the time, since there is no clock, or windows, and even if there were you wouldn’t be able to tell because a day on Rigel is twelve days on Tantalus. But not to worry, the meals go by Tantalian days. So yeah. Bye.” And with that, he and his companion guards left.

The three stood in silence. Then Mara turned to face Conner and Oliver, folding her arms. “Let’s get one thing straight,” she said. “I’m not getting pregnant in here.”

Both boys sputtered and waved their hands. “No, of course not!” “Definitely not!” “You’d have no reason to worry about that.” “Absolutely!”

Mara drilled both of them with a stare, and then relaxed, her face turning red to match the boys’. “Well with that out of the way, I guess it’s time to start thinking about breaking out.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“Yeah.”

They all set out to examine every inch of their cell, taking stock of all the resources available to them and finding out what options they might have. Being locked up in this cell for years was not a thought any of them liked.

 

* * *

 

Taea stared at the blueprints for the project. The device was very strange, just an engine and a hyperdrive behind a long superium cone. It would be an effective and reusable space ramming weapon, but why make only one out of superium rather than mass produce them from common materials? The element was exceedingly rare; it had to be harvested from the recent remnants of colliding neutron stars. No other known source, in space or experiments, was powerful enough to fuse the heaviest stable element and the most durable substance known to exist.

The low gravity of Rigel was the perfect condition for the refining process. Under the heavy gravity of Tantalus, other heavy elements from the stellar dust would settle into the superium paste, and in no gravity they wouldn’t separate at all. Taea watched as two streams exited the refinery vat: superium paste, which would need to be applied quickly before it dried, and radioactive sludge waste. If either of those got inside her somehow, she knew, all of her problems would be easily and permanently solved, albeit after a slow, painful time during which her insides would turn to jelly.

She prayed morning and evening, begging Drucan to take this burden from her. Yet she found no solace in it. Relief only came when she thought of using her time and effort to serve Spellcaster. In her heart of hearts, she knew Spellcaster was the reason to live, the reason anyone existed. Only in her mind did she remember that Drucan was the one whose rightful place was highest.

Re-checking her hazard suit, she placed the full container of superium paste on a cart and replaced it with an empty container. For her right now, serving Drucan meant serving the Empire, and by coincidence, either happy or tragic, serving the Empire meant serving Spellcaster.

She brought the bucket of paste to where the project---the super-spike, as the workers had taken to calling it---was being built. The light-skinned boy she had been working on the church-to-be with operated a crane arm, to which Taea attached the container. The boy’s sunburn was almost healed; since Rigel had no atmosphere, all of their work had been done indoors. Thank Drucan for small blessings.

The superium spike was being constructed in strips from base to point, rotating to keep the strip in progress on the top. A plastic frame kept the paste in shape while it dried. Currently, it was about two fifths of the way finished, and due to the rate at which it dried it looked like it would take another few days.

Taea wasn’t sure whether she was happy or sad when her shift ended. One set of negative thoughts would be replaced with another; there was no reprieve.

Back in her quarters, which were barely large enough to be functional, her computer beeped and a smiling waving icon appeared. She accepted the call, and the view changed to her mother’s face. “Taea! How is the new project treating you?”

Taea forced a smile. “Fine, Mom. How are you?”

“I am splendid. Life just seems to be on top of the universe these days, doesn’t it?”

“Sure does.”

“It’s wonderful that the Empire is finally moving forward on annexing Mithra. Now that’s not exactly public knowledge, so make sure to keep it on the hush-hush.”

“Finally indeed,” Taea said. “But why are you telling me?”

“Because I know you’re not going to be a blabbermouth about it. We’re family. There’s no secret we can’t keep between us.”

“True, but it’s still not a good idea to give away state secrets, Mom, even to me.”

“Eh, what’s done is done. I’m feeling very comfortable since the new edict. It’s so nice to know the secret traitor cells are being taken care of.”

“What edict is this?” Apparently no one thought a small facility on a barren moon needed to hear the latest news.

“They’ve discovered that anyone disloyal to the Empire will feel a deep sadness in their soul. I mean, it makes sense, of course, since anyone who doesn’t live according to the True Way would have a purpose-shaped hole in their heart. So they’ve made this new law that if you see someone who shows consistent signs of anxiety or depression to turn them in to the police for questioning.”

Taea stared at the screen, going over the words again in her mind to make sure she had heard them right.

“Is everything all right, honey?”

“Yeah,” Taea said quickly, forcing a chuckle. “I’m just surprised. I mean, everyone has dry times, even when they’re living according to the True Way. The Veritaria commands us to be compassionate to those in distress. ‘When your brother or sister cries, do not scold them for laziness or negligence of duty. Instead, offer your shoulder for them to cry upon.’”

“‘For it is through you that they receive the affirmation of Drucan,’” her mother finished. “Yes, of course. We should be compassionate toward those living according to the True Way who need it. But we are living in a time when dissidence can fester like cancer, so it is very important to check thoroughly. If they’re innocent, the police will send them back.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. The police are the instrument of the Empire. It’s their job to be fair and just.”

“Of course,” Taea said.

She continued to chat with her mother about life around home. Her mother liked to talk, so whenever the focus turned to Taea, Taea would sling it right back, and her mother would happily carry the conversation. The moment she hung up, Taea’s smile dropped and her eyes unfocused. She had been loyal to the Empire, the True Way, and the Ar’eus faith her whole life, and now, just because she placed that loyalty over loyalty to their new emperor, the government was coming after her?

It was clear what the government was trying to do. Unbelievable, but clear. The loyalty they demanded was not to the True Way, but to Spellcaster, forcing people into obedience with his horrible spell. They knew anyone who tried to put anything before him, even if it was God or Truth, would have to fight depression. So they would round up all the depressed people and put them into prison camps. They were coming after people like her. Those who remained loyal to what the Empire had always stood for.

This empire was no longer her Tarran. It had been killed by a monster, which now wore its face.