Page 3 of Spectral Seas (Spectral Worlds #2)

T HE NEXT MORNING found Abby and Leta crossing the floor of the massive domed hall of the Bubble’s planar neutral inner sphere, clad in white, form-fitting, full-body hazmat suits. Each held a large helmet under one arm and a duffel in the other.

“Are you sure we need all of this?” Leta asked.

“Only if you want to live. The green gasses of Viridis are poisonous to you and me.”

“Yeah. I know. But—”

Leta’s words were lost on Abby. Unlike Leta, whose Umbra body naturally produced chemicals to ease interplanar travel, Abby relied on a nanite induced infusion of DMT. The nanites were triggered by the glass elevator ride from the Alpha Plane and the dose was now kicking in. His first step out of the door of the glass lift was accompanied by a quiver rooted deep in the bottom of his spine. It surged up through the base of his skull and, in a euphoric tsunami, warmly flooded his system.

His ocular implants set to work augmenting the interplanar denizens and the ancient geometric architecture erratically scattered throughout the Bubble’s inner hall. Emerald green squares framed the faces, and thin golden outlines traced the marbled onyx and jade hemispheres, pyramids, cones, twisted cylinders, and spheres. Size and distance metrics appeared next to the large columns in the center of the room and the entrance to the ancient pneumatic tube transport they surrounded. The golden augments raced along a five-meter-high undulating band of marbled onyx and jade that encircled the vast perimeter of the terminal, framing the many glass doors in illuminated gold rectangles, with notes detailing which plane their gateway accessed. A brilliant scarlet outlined those gates that were sealed. Lists of data—much of which he documented for the first time as a university professor—emblazoned upon the large embedded reliefs, detailing the planar races among mortals—the dragons and demons, centaurs and minotaurs.

He swam in the rush of the streaming data.

“Hey,” said Leta. “Are you with me?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I was just cata—”

“Cataloguing. I know. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Of course. Why?”

She gestured up to the plasma clouding the phosphorescent ceiling. “You know. Shifting to the infernal abyss.”

“I just don’t look up.”

That was a partial truth.

The unbound physics of the planar neutral space did bother him, but the discomfort had lessened with recent visits.

What made him truly uncomfortable were the haunting visions that flooded his mind when he went through the Homeland Hall outside. The market stalls that lined the hall’s main concourse were overlaid with mental images of Umbra, like Leta, squeezed together in mesh wire pens—today’s queues of travelers at the security checkpoints flashed to yesterday’s swarms of Homeland troopers, and the kiosks peppering the concourse became sandbagged artillery pits.

He reminded himself that the Homeland Hall was no longer a military transfer station, nor was the domed terminal a fortified defense point—it was again an interplanar terminal where planar races mingled freely.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Elggwa will be waiting.”

Leta appeared unencumbered, but he, on the other hand, found himself mired down. He raised his knees high and stepped heel to toe to keep the thick boots of his suit from sinking into the spongy marble floor.

“How long do you think we’ll be there?” she asked.

“You have someplace else you’re supposed to be?”

“No. Of course not. It’s just that—”

“You’ve made it clear that you’d rather not be babysitting,” he said. In the mild drunkenness of the DMT, her fair skin resonated an aura of pinks and blues. “I get it,” he continued. “Who wants to be tied to an old commander like myself? You know you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“I’d be violating an order,” she said. “The Director still wants me by your side.”

“Seriously. Stay in the Alpha if you want. I won’t tell.”

“No. I want to go. It’s just that…” Leta shrugged.

“The suit?” he asked. “The helmet?”

She nodded.

“Listen. We don’t have to keep these on the whole time. Once we arrive, there will be a place for us.”

“A habitat?”

“Sure. Let’s call it that. ”

Abby and Leta continued to weave their way through the large onyx spheres and cones. As he walked, the distance counter augments hovering across each large stone continuously updated to points farther then closer—that was normal. Due to the unbound physics of the bubble, the objects were also moving. That made the little gold augments recalibrate in a rapid, distracting fashion. A tightening of the muscle behind his eye and they were gone, leaving only the emerald squares marking the Mortal, Umbra, Yeti, and Maro. It was the latter that Abby was most concerned with. In the neutral space of the Bubble, none of the Maro wore the guise of their mortal form. They proudly sauntered across the terminal with their horned heads held high—expressionless, eyes burning fire, the detailed tattoos mimicking the distinct style of their natural markings scrawled across their vibrant red, muscle-bound bodies, marks of family and conquest, vivid and on display for all other Maro to see.

“I find it odd you didn’t put up a fight,” said Leta. “I thought you said that nothing was going to take you away from your search for Valon.”

“I did, and nothing is. But Elggwa and I go way back. Before the wars.”

“How so?”

“After the Bubbles were discovered, there was a rapid advance in crystal resonance technology—and a huge need for monatomic crystals. The crystals manifest in different planes, each with special properties.”

“Right,” she said. “Indigo sapphires in the Indicus plane, yellow sapphires in Pratinus, emeralds in the Viridis, and rubies in the Maro plane. Different crystals, different planes. ”

“Exactly,” said Abby. “The Viridians have been mining crystals for eons—and we wanted some. I was one of the envoys sent in the first diplomatic mission.”

“Diplomatic mission?”

“To set up trade.”

“With the Homeland?” asked Leta.

“Yes. Well. With the syndicate.”

“You become more interesting all the time.”

Abby sensed the snark in her tone, but it was a nice distraction from the butterflies churning in his stomach with every step. “Hey,” he said, “I was the good guy in this one.”

“A good guy, with the syndicate?” she asked.

“As you can imagine,” he said, “things didn’t go over so smoothly, at least not initially. The Viridians weren’t eager to trade and some of the other envoys who’d traveled there with me wanted to handle things in, let’s say, an innovative way.”

“ Innovative ?”

“They wanted to apply some pressure,” said Abby.

“Sounds like business as usual.”

“It didn’t come to that. I was key in brokering an alliance. Which certainly didn’t hurt when the wars came. Anyway, Elggwa is a pretty swell guy.”

They rounded a massive marbled onyx and jade cube and found themselves at the edge of the dome, near the gate to the Viridis Plane and their tented habitat, the inhabitants of which—dressed in their full-body light Viridian green hazmat garb—were just exiting.

“There he is,” said Abby.

“Which one is he?”

“You see the three standing at by the elevator gate? Talking to the red suit?”

“He’s the one in the red suit? ”

“No. The one in the middle of the three is Elggwa.”

“And how do you know this?”

“Viridian protocol. He’s always in the center.”

“So who is that in the red suit?”

“The suit is cardinal red. That’s a representative from Stanford Silicon.”

“He’s a syndicate rep?”

“Yep. They hold the contract with the Viridians.”

“Why is he still wearing his helmet?”

“They must’ve just arrived in the Bubble,” said Abby.

The syndicate rep threw a closed fist across his chest and bowed toward Elggwa. Elggwa returned the salute. Then the rep picked up the aluminum case by his side and began walking toward Abby and Leta. He passed them without an acknowledgement either could see.

The Viridian then faced the approaching two. Abby dropped his duffel to the floor, pounded his chest as the rep had, then bowed.

The suited figure opened his arms toward the two and from behind the mirrored visor came a muffled gurgling punctuated with guttural gulps that were near immediately translated to a digitized voice emitting from a small circular speaker on the bottom front of the helmet. “Abernathy Squire, you old mackerel. Is that how you greet an old friend?”

“Uhggwa?” asked Abby. Then he wrapped his arms around the suited Viridian.

“Yes,” the digitized voice said, returning the embrace. “I told my father I would greet you.”

“Please forgive me, I apologize for the extra trouble,” said Abby.

“Nonsense. You did me a favor by allowing me to escort our partner from Stanford Silicon.” Uhggwa gestured to the red suited representative entering the Pratinus habitat with a group of figures in yellow hazmat suits. “Look at him. Negotiating with the Pratinians for what he can’t get from us.”

“So that’s why he kept his helmet on,” said Leta.

“Yes,” said Uhggwa. “The syndicate has no time for rest… You must be Captain Serene.”

“Yes,” she said, then raised her fist to her chest in salute.

“You may drop the formality, Captain. A friend of the Benediximus is a friend of mine.”

“She likes formality,” said Abby.

“Very well,” said Uhggwa. He faced Leta and returned the salute.

“Abernathy Squire. I must say that you don’t look a day older than when you sat at my father’s table.”

“I assure you, it’s only aesthetic. The years have taken their toll. How is your father?”

“My father is well. He sends his regards and is looking forward to seeing the Benediximus at the citadel. He is hosting a feast in your honor.”

“That sounds excellent,” said Abby.

“Shouldn’t we be focused on the mines?” asked Leta.

“It appears that your partner is in a hurry.”

“No,” said Leta. “Not at all.”

“Ha…ha…ha,” the digitized voice whirred above a muffled purr. “It’s fine, I fear that we will be apologizing for wasting your time. The request for your visit stems from the syndicate. The disturbances concern them more than my father.” Uhggwa faced his visor toward the indigo-shrouded priests of the Monastic Indicus Plane, on their knees at the edge of the dome, praying to the ancient gods. “We should go. There are too many eyes and ears here.”

~*~