Page 18 of Spectral Seas (Spectral Worlds #2)

N EAR THE DAMAGED area of the garden, syn gardeners meticulously tended to a small section of the crystal outcroppings, gently polishing the emeralds to a high sheen then coating them with glistening, liquid, growth progenitors. They paid little mind to the two suited visitors from the Alpha Plane. Abby, in kind, paid little attention to them. He reclined back on the bench of the tram cart the Viridians had left for him and Leta as she continued inspecting the concave indent in the cavern floor.

“Making yourself comfortable?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “Really comfortable. I mean, I could actually get some sleep if it weren’t for the pointy emeralds hanging directly over my head.”

Leta glanced up toward the crystal, sword stalactites. “You don’t think they’ll fall on us, do you?”

Abby shrugged.

“You know,” she said stepping toward him, “I never realized how many crystals are harvested. ”

“Think about the high demand. Not just for the Alpha Plane, but the colonies as well.”

“It’s just that crystals are so tightly regulated by the Agreement of the Five. I assumed it was because they’re so rare.”

“Well, the economy is artificial. Not just for the financial well-being of the syndicates and producers, but to maintain control of distribution.”

“Yeah,” said Leta. “I suppose it needs to be. For Planar travel, resonators, and what not. But it’s kinda silly when you think about it. I mean, green rocks.”

“If they weren’t important, we wouldn’t be here.”

“How important can it be if they sent us?”

“Hey, I know you’re still miffed to be my partner. But that’s kinda harsh. Besides, I’m the Benediximus. Regardless of where you think we sit with the Director, he had to send us. Plus, who else has dealt with a remote quant?”

“You’re right,” she said raising her brows. “We’re the team for the job.” She leaned against the side of the tram. “I guess I’m getting hungry… I think you’re right about the remote quant.”

“Is that what your hypersensitive sight is telling you?”

“The scars in the rock do suggest a greater spherical shape. I can’t be certain, but it would explain their account of the phantom.”

“Speaking of which, we’ve been here a while. Any new sensations?”

“The signal is still there. It’s just too faint for me to zero in on.”

“Maybe—” Abby scrunched his face and threw his arms around his gut.

“What is it?” asked Leta .

“I don’t know,” he said. His visor fogged. “Something’s happening. All over. I think I’m going to be sick.”

A deafening crackle filled the cavern and a bright blue orb, lightning plasma oozing across its curved surface, materialized meters away. It rapidly grew then, with a flash, disappeared.

“Nine planes,” moaned Abby. “A Bubble event. Someone’s definitely using a remote quant.”

“Wait,” said Leta. “It’s coming.”

“Coming?” said Abby. “It came and went.”

But Leta wasn’t listening. She sprang from the tram, back arched, ready to pounce. She launched toward where the orb had appeared, then shifted spectrum and disappeared from view.

Abby sat up. The shrill cramp that had coursed through him was gone.

He lifted himself from the tram and, encumbered by his suit, stretched his arms wide as best he could. The cavern teetered around him, his head went light, and he fell back to sitting on the bench.

Leta materialized beside him, hunched forward, her hands on her knees.

“Don’t do that,” he said.

“Sorry,” said Leta, moisture gathering and dissipating on the glass of her visor as she regained her breath.

The three syn workers closest them were pointing, whispering, and cowering back toward the wall of the cavern. Abby could hear the word they muttered— phantom .

“She’s not the phantom,” he said. “She just shifted—” He cut himself off and shook his head. They weren’t listening. Instead, they averted their iridescent yellow eyes and raced for the entrance.

“Well,” said Abby. “That’s not going to help.”

“What?” asked Leta .

“They think—” he started then shook his head correcting himself. “It doesn’t matter. Where’d you go?”

“The presence I detected before. He came to check out the orb.”

“You mean he came with the orb?”

“No. He didn’t.” She shook her head. “They’re separate.”

“Why do you say he?”

“It was a man’s voice.”

“He spoke with you?”

“A telepathic voice. He asked me not to follow.”

“And you didn’t? Why not?”

Leta raised her head and peered at Abby. “He spoke to me in Shelta, the language of the Umbra, and…”

“And what?”

“He knew me. Knew who I am anyway.”

“He called you by your name?”

“No. He called me Syeira.”

“Syeira,” Abby repeated. “But in Shelta, that means…”

“Yes,” said Leta. “Princess.”

~*~