Voidbound, Part 1

Content warnings for violence & injury, discussion of imperial colonialism & persecution.

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The promenade was sickening. The streets were laid with glittering blocks of artificial metals, the hedges and manicured trees on either side – imported, definitely – snipped and shaped so perfectly they could’ve been made of plastic. Umber found that, like most things on this miserable, beautiful planet, everything in sight was smoothed down and polished and glazed. Always perfumed with lawns of fragrant flowers to cover the acrid reek of ozone, smoke and oil.

That included most of the people, which she’d been worried would be a problem, but luckily, her party was travelling with a respected, well-made immortal at the fore (mentally, she tried to enunciate with the appropriate level of derision). Zeria walked a few paces ahead of the other three, their short-coiffed platinum hair and sharp-feathered black-and-white outfit in stark contrast to the rest of their identical, pitch-black uniforms. The imperial guards lining the promenade didn’t give the entourage a second glance, at risk of drawing the ire of their own betters. Being an invisible servant had its benefits.

On her right, Kade was the image of discretion, ever composed even under pressure; trusting herself to exude the confidence that she was meant to be here, just like Umber hoped she was doing. But she didn’t fail to notice Anya on her other side. Fidgeting with the folded cuffs of her uniform, sweat beading on her neck.

They didn’t dare draw attention by straying from their practiced, synchronized stride, but out of the corner of her mouth Umber hissed at Anya, “Just shut the clasp.”

She stopped fussing, a flush rising to her face. There was a soft click from her wrist as she complied and stiffly dropped her arm to her side. “Yes. Sorry. I’m just not used to clothes this… comfortable.”

“Eyes up,” whispered Kade, and Umber stifled the comment she was about to make about ethics versus comfort or somesuch. The rest of the order went unspoken; almost go-time. Just a few more minutes. No fucking it up now.

For the briefest of moments, without missing a step, Zeria turned their head, and Umber saw the angles of their face, nothing to betray the fact that they were older than the other three combined. They locked eyes with Kade, and then with Umber, for just a fraction of a second. They nodded, face perfectly neutral, so subtly nobody else would ever have noticed it. Umber set her jaw and nodded back.

She could not wait to be off this planet.

In formation, the four of them approached the end of the promenade, and their destination rose over the horizon. Behind them was the towering, shimmering capital Dawn, perpetually fixed to bathe in the rosy-gold of twilight; ahead was their ticket out. The hovering luxury leyship under Zeria’s name was docked at the end of the pier, and beyond that, rising from the ocean, was the Gate. From their vantage, high above the waves, Umber could even make out the faint shape of the massive Calibrator on the horizon, spearing through the clouds into the starry sky above.

The ship, at least on the surface, was practically a work of art. Wings of swirling gold, platinum and mirrored glass, sails that looked like they could’ve been made out of silk, decks of some sort of long-extinct wood, if she was to guess. But despite the flashiness, she was infinitely more at home on that ship than in the city she’d spent the last few weeks in. Every day had only strengthened her conviction.

Just across the gangplank, and they would be home free. But not quite yet. Umber stole a tense glance at the guards all around, their near-identical faces and smooth, pale skin. Glossy and fabricated like the rest; if it came to a fight, they were more for show than for anything else. The real problem was going to be the porter.

He stood at the pier in an outfit similar to hers, with the addition of some shiny copper trim and a white mask covering the upper half of his face, his clothes drifting in the light breeze rising from the oily water far below. The outline of a silver grounding lance was conspicuously visible against his tunic. And as the one responsible for moving traffic out of port, a rare case where the powers-that-be had to place their agents of force front-and-center, he was also very much immortal.

He held up a gloved hand as they approached, and Zeria obligingly stopped some distance from the edge of the pier, Umber, Kade and Anya falling into place behind them.

Umber quietly slipped her hand past the lance on her own hip and into her pocket, feeling the small tactile interface of her current sensor. Zeria and the porter both kept their auras on a low simmer, for now. It was only polite, after all. That was good. No need to make a scene.

Slowly, the porter surveyed the three of them; it was hard to tell where exactly his attention was focused, even with the sensor, but she could’ve sworn he lingered on Anya for just a moment longer before finally looking straight to Zeria.

He bowed, slightly, and immediately the three of them bowed to Zeria as well, just as practiced. “You’ve been expected, Lord Zeria,” he said as he rose.

Zeria let out what might have been a chuckle before nodding in acceptance. “Thank you,” they said, voice smooth as glass. “The Gates don’t often align to our destination, you know. We’d like to be going immediately.”

“You’re sailing for Diadem,” the porter stated. “SC90. By the current drift you will arrive on time.” Zeria nodded affirmative again, clearly as ready to move as Umber was. And then the porter did the one thing she’d been hoping against hope he wouldn’t do. He gestured to the only luggage the four of them were carrying– the thin, deceptively heavy case of brushed metal in Zeria’s hand.

“You understand we need to check outgoing freight before departure,“ he said plainly.

She felt Kade and Anya shift on their feet next to her, and a spike in the sensor’s readings told her that Zeria was similarly bristling. She silently willed them to pull through, working to keep her own face still.

Zeria clutched the handle of the case a little tighter as they lifted it, knuckles blanching, and Umber had the brief, stupid thought that it would probably make a decent bludgeoning weapon if worst came to worst. But they stayed calm. And just like they’d had to do for the past few weeks in Dawn, Zeria let their face twist into a visage of faint disdain. When they spoke, their voice took on that plasticky aristocratic accent.

“Actually, we believe you might be misunderstanding,” they snapped.

The porter’s face hardened beneath the mask. “There’s no offence intended to your person,” he said carefully. “You should simply be aware that by edict all travel to and from the colonies is subject to scrutiny.”

Zeria’s face effortlessly slid from offended to exasperated.

“Hmph,” they said. “If the privacy of our business dealings is to be scrutinized, then, by edict, feel free to examine this personally. But the box is shielded, and locked such that we could not open it now even if we wished to. Its contents are to remain sealed with us until delivered to our clients on Diadem.”

They held out the case, and with some apprehension the porter reached out and hefted it– but like they said, the thing was shielded, sealed and nigh unbreakable. It looked like he couldn’t even figure out where the seam was. After a few seconds of examination, and clearly with no justification to further offend the hierarchy by intruding on Zeria’s business, he let it go and they returned it to their side.

“Is there anything else you need to bother us with, then?” they asked, their voice dangerously acidic. “Or may we stop killing time?”

“...No, Lord Zeria.” He bowed, and Umber and the others followed suit once more. Without another word, Zeria made to board the leyship, until the porter interrupted one last time as they passed him. “But if we may?”

They froze and turned to look to him, remembering to raise an eyebrow. He reached into his own pocket and plucked out a single, perfect golden rose, its petals gleaming in ever-dying sunlight, its thorns snubbed in his hand as he held it out to them. “For your trouble,” said the porter. “And for a safe journey.”

Zeria considered it for a long moment. Then they pulled it from his fingers with their free hand, and without even a second glance at his masked face, turned, aloof, and continued across the pier. Umber kept an eye on him as he clasped his hands behind his back and stepped aside to let them pass, but she felt the three members of the entourage, herself included, breathe a deep sigh of relief as they crossed the gangplank and finally entered the ship.

The moment the door slid shut behind them, Zeria let out their own breath and leaned against the glossy wall of the hull, closing their eyes. Umber laughed, anxiously, and Kade even smiled with relief.

“That was the hard part,” she said, clapping Anya – still almost shaking in her boots – on the shoulder.

“Haha. Yeah.” She paused, rubbing her neck. “...Oh. Wow.”

Umber rushed to one of the one-way mirrored windows next to the door, looking out over the pier and promenade, making sure the guards or the porter weren’t about to pull anything. She turned to Zeria. “You good?”

“I’m fine,” they sighed. “Kade is right. That’s the part I was most worried about. All that’s left is to cross the Gate and get out of here.”

Kade sidled over to them, an odd smile on her face behind the glasses, and they smiled back before she said, “For the record, I don’t like how easy it is for you to slip back into character like that. It’s terrifying.”

“Are you really that worried I’m going to sell you out?”

“No. No, I meant I’m afraid for you.”

“...Yeah, thanks for the concern,” Zeria said. Taking a brief whiff of the golden rose before wrinkling their nose and tossing it to the floor, they glanced back at Umber. “So what do you think?”

She furrowed her brow. “I think it was too easy. And I’m still out on whether you could take on that immortal down there if you had to.”

“The kid? Just one of him? I could put him out before he even felt me coming,” they said, rather nonchalant about the power at their fingertips. “But I’d be remiss if I didn’t say, and I know how much you hate it when I pull this card, that a lot of experience has taught me there’s no such thing as too easy.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Umber muttered, but there was no need to argue it.

Something clicked in her pocket. A single, momentary uptick in the ambient fields. The kind of thing usually caused by an immortal. She and Zeria exchanged a look in the same instant, and all four of them knew without a word spoken.

She took one more look out the window, watching the porter closely, though he was standing almost as stock-still as everything else. He lowered a hand from his ear, and she narrowed her eyes. “You felt it too.”

“...We can’t be sure it was anything,” Zeria said. “Yet. ...Just keep an eye out, and let’s get a move on. Umber, Kade, make sure we’re ready to go, soon as possible. Anya, upstairs with me. Our flight’s about to leave.”

On cue, as the others headed to the bridge, Umber and Kade made their way into the bowels of the leyship, getting everything ready like they’d done half a dozen times before. Most of the vessel’s leisure facilities had been butchered as soon as they’d got it, gutted and replaced with slapdash modifications that were almost all illegal for one reason or another. But then again, the ship was stolen, so they didn’t worry too much about keeping it pretty on the inside.

When they were ready to be unmoored at a moment’s notice, and when Umber had shed the jacket of her equally-stolen uniform, she climbed upstairs to the flight deck. It was circular, with wide mirrored windows overlooking the unfolding sails outside. Through them was the skyline of Dawn on one side, and on the other the admittedly stunning view of the open ocean, streaked in gold, pink and violet. The Calibrator was still visible in the distance, for now; but between the pier and the tower was the Gate. Two massive pillars rising from the water, and between them an impossibly thin black plane, dotted with the sparkling remnants of stars.

Umber wouldn’t consider herself an expert, but she’d crossed the Gates enough times to keep herself steady. Travel across the ether between worlds was dangerous, even at the best of times, when you were mortal, or a rebel fugitive, or incidentally both. But their hosts had so obligingly kept the way open for them.

Zeria was cross-legged before the main pilot interfaces in the centre of the flight deck, preparing the more esoteric systems of the ship for ether travel, while Anya was half-sitting in a seat at the front, typing into the glass displays. Next to her, the 4-space navigation compass was balanced in the air on a magnetic updraft, quivering with anticipation.

“Everything good up here? Kade’s got us ready to move,” Umber huffed.

Zeria nodded and hummed mhm, as Anya synchronized the ship’s systems to the Gate’s, checking the vectors. The screens flashed bright crimson. “Cardinal’s good, ordinal’s good,” she said. “And, um, the drift looks fine, too. We… we’ll make it there.”

“Hell yes we will,” Umber said, and after a moment’s pause, laid what she hoped was a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Nice work.” Anya jumped, but smiled, nervously. She figured that was good enough for her.

“Umber,” said Zeria, not taking their focus off of… whatever work it was they were doing. It wasn’t always easy to tell. “You’re on the line with the Calibrator. It’s time.”

She took the current sensor out of her pocket, plugging it into the ship’s sensors, before sliding into the seat next to Anya and putting on the headset. The glass screen flickered to life, a smooth, simple comms readout. Clearing her throat, putting on her best servant-whose-tongue-is-still-intact voice, she steeled herself, shutting out everything else, and tapped her finger to the control surface to recite the script.

“Calibration. Dawn port, pier one. This is the service of Lord Zeria Metri aboard the leyship I’ilsa Del Dain, confirming vectors. Requesting final permissions to transit to Dawn Gate, on course for System Colony 90-Diadem.”

There was a long pause, several seconds. And then a voice came on the other side, elegant and exactly enunciated, dripping with the same awful sheen as the rest of the planet. “Port, Calibration. Please stand by for permission to transit aboard I’ilsei Del Dain.”

The instant they finished speaking she knew she’d messed up the pronunciation. They'd written that name on faked documents half a dozen times, and she still slipped. She threw off the headset in mild panic, nevertheless being exceptionally careful not to turn her voice transmission back on. “Shit.”

Anya and Zeria turned to her in unison, alarmed. “What!?”

“Nothing! It shouldn’t be a problem. And if it is, I’ll make it work, don’t worry.”

They hesitated, but weighing their trust of her against their paranoia, she knew which would win out. Zeria went back to the ship, and Umber went back to the line, cautiously recomposing herself. Not a syllable out of place.

Ahem. “Calibration. This is the service of Lord Zeria O.A. Metri, requesting permissions to transit immediately according to schedule.”

The screens were still glowing red. Another long pause. Way too long.

“Port, stand by.”

Umber pulled the headset off again, tossing it back onto the panel and standing up, leaning forward to look out the window. On the pier outside, the porter was still just standing there. The Gate was tall and silent in the distance, and nothing at all seemed out of place. Never a good sign.

There was one click, and then another. Two spikes in the fields, channeled into the current sensor by the ship’s own detectors. It could have been something in the depths of the leyship turning on, something Zeria was doing – in the split-second after it happened, she didn’t have time to ask – but she knew what two pulses usually meant, with imperial immortals. Aura-to-aura communications; double-affirmative.

She looked closer. There was a second figure down there, at the far end of the promenade in the direction of Dawn, emerging from the port offices. A second figure in a black-and-bronze suit and a white mask over their face, coming her way. Her heart raced.

“We’ve been made!”

Reacting with the precision she’d come to expect, Zeria touched something on a control panel and the whole ship roared into life. Umber hoped Kade would be able to keep up, down there. “We’re still hooked to their system,” said Zeria, voice low.

“You said you could take that immortal, right?” she called to them. “How confident are you about two of ‘em?”

They considered it. “Not especially.” They kept fiddling with the screens and dials, Anya rushing to help out at the other side of the deck. “At the moment, though, we’re about to have a more immediate concern–”

The current sensor started ticking again. This time, so fast it was practically vibrating. A very strong field was approaching, and if Umber was willing to bet– well, she didn’t have to. Because right that moment she heard the banging on the outside of the hull, and then saw as the porter leapt up onto the outer deck, just outside the window. He tried to put a fist through the glass, splintering it into a web of mirrored cracks, but it wasn’t quite enough to break it. Not yet, at least. Anya screamed.

Umber backed up as far as she could, trying to find a better position – not easy when you were about to fight an immortal in the confines of a leisure ship – and deftly sliding the grounding lance into her hand. The porter pounded his fist against the glass again, splintering it further, his teeth grinding. The sensor crackled like lightning.

Zeria slammed something on the controls almost hard enough to put their whole hand through it just as the porter went in for the third hit, breaking through the window and pouring a cascade of glass slivers into the flight deck. It seemed to happen in slow motion; Anya ducked under a control panel, and Umber brought her lance up in front of her face to defend, but the porter wasn’t after her. He went straight for Zeria, streaks of white fire forming between his fingers as he moved to grab them by the face–

Zeria, though, was older, and faster, and quite a bit stronger, too. They raised both of their hands between their body and his, and in an instant there was a pop and a crash as half the flight deck was consumed by a shockwave. It was enough to knock Umber against the wall and the wind from her lungs; it was also enough to knock the porter right back through the window he’d come in from.

He recovered fast, too. He dug a hand into the polished deck of the ship and dragged himself to a halt just before sailing off the bow. He stood up and started moving again before he’d even regained his footing– and then his legs were swept out from under him as one of the sail-masts swung over the deck in a rapid and unconventional adjustment. Umber resisted the urge to cheer as she saw him knocked into the air again, and this time he didn’t have anything to save himself as he plummeted over the edge, falling the long, long way to the ocean surface below.

She regained her breath and rushed to the window, skidding over shards of broken glass and looking out over the port. The imperial guards on the promenade were in marching order, now. Cute. More worrisome was the second porter, now given up any pretense of poise and outright sprinting towards the pier.

Anya stumbled to her feet and looked out the window herself. “W-w-we have to stop,” she said shakily. “They’re not gonna let us through the Gate. We need to stop, we need– we need to find somewhere–”

“Hate to be the one to tell you, but there’s nowhere else for us to go,” Umber said, gripping her lance tighter and sliding over to check on Zeria. They put up a hand that they were fine, though the expenditure of energy was sure to have drawn a lot more attention than Umber’s fuckup that she wasn’t thinking about right now.

“They're still locking us out from transit,” they gasped, gesturing at the crimson screens. “We have to sever the connection. Now.”

“Anya, stay here, do whatever Zeria tells you. Zeria, just– be careful. Do what you can to keep those fuckers off of us,” Umber said hastily. They nodded. “I’ll get you what you need.”

She practically collided with Kade on one of the staircases between decks, almost throwing both of them to the ground. Kade, though she was doing a very good job of not showing it, was clearly shaken. It took Umber a moment to remember that the fact she had no idea what just happened might have been contributing to that.

Before Kade could say anything, she blurted out, “Okay. We just threw one of their immortals into the ocean, so if they had their doubts about us before, we’re definitely screwed now. Zeria’s about ready to blow the joint but–”

“They’re still in control of our flight systems?” Kade finished.

“Got it in one.”

“Not the most elegant solution right now, but I can fix that.”

They rushed downstairs together, winding their way back through the guts and narrow corridors of the ship, Kade leading the way (she was the one who’d taken the thing apart and put it back together; she knew it better than the back of her hand).

An explosion – or maybe just the force of collision between two immortals – rocked the ship, throwing Umber off-balance, just as they reached what they were looking for. A little compartment below the bow, thrumming with heat and the deep, bone-shaking growl of the engines. Hooked up to a bramble of wires and cable flowing out to the antennae and external sensors on the hull was an inconspicuous box. Whatever old script had originally been written on it was long since taped over, and rewritten in pen: “Comms”.

“I hate to do this,” Kade said as she reached into a pile of junk tangled in the cables, sifting around for something to do the job. “Once we cut her off we’ll have to ditch the whole ship. A real shame, after everything.”

Without hesitating, Umber reached into the tangle and started ripping wires out of the walls. “We can have a proper funeral once we’re outta here.”

“Yeah,” Kade sighed. “Better Ilsa than one of us.”

She found what she was looking for; a long, heavy length of pipe. She swung it in the air a couple of times, making sure it would do the trick, before she glanced at Umber. “Zeria will be off as soon as I’m done, I’m sure. Make sure you’re holding on to something.”

Umber was already out the door by the time Kade started smashing the comms array to pieces; and a few seconds later, when she was sprinting down a corridor next to one of the long glass windows, she felt the ship shudder again, the engines screaming into full throttle. She looked out at the pier as tethers were ripped from their moorings and leaned against the wall as the ship started to turn. Chasing them down the sunlit promenade, the second porter was still too slow. They were going to make it.

She suppressed her vertigo as the pier fell away, the ship rising into the air on silken sails and ether-engines. And finally, it turned away from Dawn, and inertia kicked in as they began to screech across the sky towards the Gate. They would already be mustering pursuit ships, anti-air, maybe; but it wasn't gonna be enough.

Umber’s blood was pounding, her breaths still coming hard and fast, the adrenaline still flowing through her fingers. They were so close. Home free. She pumped her fist, just once, and allowed herself a laugh, part spite and part elation.

In no time at all, she slid open the door to the flight deck; as soon as she did she was almost blown back against the wall. She put an arm up in front of her face to shield herself from the hurricane pouring into the deck through the shattered windows; Anya was crouched at the front behind a control panel, and Zeria was hunkered down on their own. The bright red screens had all turned white. Through the buffeting wind, Umber saw their end zone approaching, the pillars growing in the distance as they approached.

Zeria opened one eye against the gale, shouting at Umber to be heard over the noise. “Two minutes ‘til we hit the Gate!”

She clamored over to their seat at the centre of the deck, crouching down behind a control panel herself. “What if they close it?”

“It’s the Dawn Gate. They won’t close it.”

“And, uh. Have you ever flown through a Gate without a fucking windshield?”

They paused. “Yeah, I have.”

“Is it safe?”

“Not really. If you have another option that gets us off-world, you know I’d love to hear it,” Zeria said, and unfortunately she didn’t. They’d just have to hope for the best. Wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last. Not today.

When she looked back to the broken window, the doorway to their freedom growing ever-closer, she saw Anya rising to her feet on quaking legs. “Hey!" she shouted. "Stay down, behind cover! Crossing’s gonna be messy!”

Anya didn’t stay down. She braced herself against the shattered window frame and turned her back to the view ahead, shielding herself from the gale. Her hair was whipping around her face in a frenzy, her knuckles blanched. She looked like she was on the verge of hyperventilating.

She set her stance, and one hand reached into her pocket; she drew her grounding lance with the other. And then she pointed it at Zeria.

“You need… to stop… the ship!” she shouted. There was a fragile bent to her voice that Umber had never heard from her before.

“What are you talking about? We’re almost out!”

Anya grit her teeth, and taking stiff steps, she started advancing across the deck. Her lance remained outstretched, wavering, but pointed directly through Zeria’s head. “I said, stop it! Turn us around!”

Her other hand emerged from her jacket pocket, and then it all clicked in Umber’s head. Anya held out an angular metallic device in her fist, brandishing it like the threat it was. A pulse generator. Something both Zeria and Umber had had unpleasant experiences with in the past, that was for sure. She’d wager it carried just enough yield to take Zeria out of commission, if she let it go off.

Zeria raised one hand placatingly, eyes widening. “I’ll do it!” Anya said, desperately. “Just– just go back and surrender!”

Umber barely contained the fury that washed over her with the dawning realization. “Put it down right now, Anya! We’re not stopping! I’m not going to tell you twice!”

“Umber, listen to me! They know who we are! If– if we go back, if we give ourselves up, hand over the case– th-they’ll give us leniency. We’ll all be okay. I talked to one of them, they gave me a-assurances–”

She looked terrified. Beyond terrified. That wasn’t exactly great, in a volatile situation, but Umber couldn’t muster the will to care. She was right to be scared. “You made a deal? You sold us out and made a fucking deal with them?”

“They already knew! I-I swear, please, Umber, listen, if we don’t–”

“It wasn’t a stupid slip of the tongue. You had us set up.”

Silhouetted in daylight behind Anya, the Gate was getting closer. So close it almost consumed the sky. Just as Umber was about to do something extraordinarily reckless, Zeria hissed, “We’re seconds away. Just keep her calm. Once we’re on the other side, we– I don’t know, I– I’ll figure something out. We’re gonna be alright.”

Umber growled, grip tightening around her lance. “Final warning, Anya.”

It looked like Anya actually was hyperventilating, now. She stumbled back against the control panel. “I… I–”

In the moments before they collided with the Gate and were thrust across to the other side, a lot of things happened in very quick succession.

First, Umber took an ill-advised step forward.

Second, the bow of the leyship broke the veil like a knife cutting through water. It passed into the Gate’s gravitational fold and stretched across it through the infinities, leaving ripples of starlight in its wake as it followed the current binding source and destination, two worlds a universe apart. There was light and noise as it happened, clear to everyone who saw, but not the kind that could be explained as anything more than the ethereal rainbows of travel across the void. The sea and sky and clouds and twilight smeared and streaked across the horizon, reflected a million times in the sprinkled, broken mirror-glass scattered across the floor.

The impact wave shook the vessel to the foundations of its engine and to the golden points of its wingtips. All four aboard had experienced the feeling before, as the Gate began to pluck at their very essences and drag them deeper into its maw (some, more often than others). But without protection, Umber nearly passed out on the spot, the world spinning apart around her.

Third: Anya’s finger slipped.

It could’ve been intentional, but the truth was that she was thrown to the floor at precisely the wrong moment. Sweat slicked her skin, the smooth metal slipped in her grasp, and the last thing she felt was something inside locking into place.

The electromagnetic pulse hummed through the air, echoed and magnified by the distortion of the Gate. Every screen flickered to nothing. The engine and its extremities shuddered and failed. Umber’s hair stood on end, and something inside the current sensor cracked as Zeria screamed, a hand rising to clutch their head, feeling their skin crackle and their consciousness blur.

Somewhere belowdecks, Kade wrapped herself around a bundle of cable, raised her arms around her head, and prayed to make it out alive. A deck above her, a golden rose snapped and shattered into a million pieces.

The ship careened off course and grazed the pillar of the Gate, the collision shaking it to its bones. Umber saw the wall rushing up to meet her before there was a shock of pain and darkness.

Then it disappeared through the portal, cast off to the void, all four aboard going with it.