As chairwoman of the Rashani Council, Koyla was of course very busy administering to the Enclave, so much so that she could not find time to sit down to hear Vis’ request. A proper trainee would accept this and wait patiently for a time when she was available. Vis didn’t have time, and anyone who thought him proper had obviously never met him. He followed her around the Enclave for the rest of the day, sharing his idea as Koyla did her work. She was defensive at first, insisting that the task was far too dangerous for a mere trainee, but Vis persevered, wearing her down between her meetings with other Rashani. She caved, at last, as the day came to a close.
“Fine, go. I won’t have you nattering outside my bedroom door all night,” she said in exasperation. “Just remember that this mission is an investigation first and training for Nue second. You must not disrupt either.”
Out of joy, Vis let his feelings slip and threw his arms around Koyla. “Thank you!” He pulled away, face burning, folding his traitorous arms behind his back. “I mean, I will do what I can to ensure the success of the mission.”
He expected to sense some anger or irritation from Koyla, but she was smiling. “I’m certain you will. Learn from this experience, Vis—perhaps seeing a Rashani at work will spark the fire within you at last.”
Vis nodded, reddening further. “I hope it will.”
“Keep safe,” said Koyla, her tone becoming serious. “You may think highly of your fighting skills, but Mela is better—let her handle the danger. Rashani or not, you are something special, and it would kill me to lose you at such a young age.”
Vis was speechless. To hear someone talk about him like that; he couldn’t put his emotions into words. It was like in the library with Zira, when she’d given him a sense of worth. He managed an enthusiastic nod, shyly pushing the raw emotions in Koyla’s direction.
That seemed to satisfy her. “I will tell Mela, and I suppose you’ll tell Nue. Good night, Vis.”
They parted ways, and Vis dashed through the halls to do just as Koyla had said. He found Nue in the dining hall, seated at one end of a long table. Dinner had come and gone, so the vast room was all but empty, with only a few late-night stragglers eating quietly. Vis felt like he was gliding as he ventured down the table and slid into the seat beside his friend.
“Somehow I knew you’d be here,” said Vis, perplexed at the realization.
“And somehow I knew you wanted to meet me,” Nue replied, glancing at him. “We are supposed to be telepathic.”
Vis frowned. “Empathetic, actually. We sense emotions, not thoughts, only it doesn’t seem to work for us like it does other Rashani.”
Nue shrugged, twirling her fork around a plate of noodles. “We’re still in training—we’ll figure it out. Now,” she turned in her seat to look Vis full in the face, “you have something important to tell me.”
Vis started. “Stop that!”
Nue giggled and tapped her forehead. “You and me—perfect telepathy. So, what do you have to say to me? My mystical mind-reading powers tell me it has something to do with my mission. Might it be a yummy going-away cake?”
Vis held out his open palms for Nue to inspect. “Sorry. If it’s any consolation, I had a talk with Mela.”
Nue’s eyes went wide. “What did you do? You didn’t talk her out of taking me, did you? I know I said I was scared, but this is a once in a lifetime opportunity!”
“Calm down! Calm down!” Vis held his hands in front of his face, as if Nue would ever actually hit him. “I didn’t talk anyone out of anything. I talked myself in.”
Nue arched an eyebrow. “You mean…?”
“I’m coming with you!” Vis exclaimed with genuine delight. “I asked Mela and Koyla, and both said I could come.”
“As an apprentice?” The hopeful sparkle in Nue’s eye almost broke Vis’ heart.
He shook his head. “More like an assistant, to help with the little things. I figured you could use a friend on the long flight.”
“I couldn’t think of a better friend to spend it with,” said Nue, blushing. “Thank you, really. Putting your own training on hold for me—I don’t know how I could possibly make it up to you.”
“Make it count—become a Rashani.” It was the simplest answer Vis could think of. “I’ll catch up soon.”
Nue nodded. “How did Syla take the news?”
A wide smile crossed Vis’ face. “Don’t know. I haven’t told her yet. I’m sure she’ll find out—after we’ve left Utopia, hopefully.”
Nue laughed, saying nothing more, as nothing else needed to be said. Vis went about getting some cooling dinner, and the two ate in companionable silence.
* * *
Vis packed quickly, as he had little to call his own. A few changes of clothes, a training staff he’d swiped, and a handheld computer with a month’s worth of books on it. He placed all of it in a satchel, throwing it over his shoulder as he cast a last look around his quarters and closed the door. Quite apart from his self-imposed mission to protect Nue, it would be good to be away from those four walls for a time.
Another gathering had been called to announce the decision on the mission to the Consortium, and Vis was once again at the back of the crowd, which seemed to have grown to twice its previous size; many Rashani had wrapped up their missions ahead of schedule to rush home in light of the recent news. He craned his neck to see the central platform, where the Council was clustered. An explosion of applause echoed throughout the hall as Mela’s name was called and she stepped onto the stage, dressed in the blue robes of a Rashani, cinched at the waist by a leather belt. From what Vis knew of Mela, she had been a wise choice for this mission, and the rest of the Enclave seemed to agree. She put her hand to her heart and bowed to her assembled Sisters, a wholly unnecessary but very traditional gesture.
Next was the announcement of Nue’s apprenticeship, which was met with more moderate enthusiasm. As Nue nervously stepped on stage and bowed, Vis heard a few mutters mixed in with the applause. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he could guess the gist of it; either they thought now was an inappropriate time to be training an apprentice, or they were talking of Nue’s relationship with Vis himself, as if she was unworthy simply by association. Vis tried to ignore them, his eyes on Nue. Despite her shorter stature standing next to Mela, she still looked dignified, and Vis could already picture the Rashani she would grow to be. The announcement concluded with the Council wishing the two safe travels and success. That seemed to wash away whatever misgivings the crowd held, and their final round of applause was the loudest. Even Vis was caught up in the emotion of it, clapping his hands until they hurt. There had been no mention of his accompanying the two on their journey, which was just fine with him. Let the hateful among the Rashani find out later, when he was already gone.
As Mela and Nue departed the stage, Vis knew it was time for him to go as well. They were to leave immediately, and Mela’s attitude suggested she might leave him behind if he was late. He left the chamber, caring little for the lesser matters that the Council was preparing to bring before the gathering. He walked quickly through the deserted halls, planning to meet Nue at the entrance to the Enclave. But as he entered the lobby, an all-too-familiar presence stood in his path.
“Unclaimed,” Syla snarled. She’d taken the trouble of donning her blue Rashani robes today, a formality she rarely bothered with. She probably meant it as a symbol of solidarity with her Sisters in this trying time, but Vis couldn’t help but see it as a lazy and meaningless gesture that made her look concerned without expressing any genuine feeling.
“Hello, oh wise and gracious teacher,” Vis replied, grinning with hostility.
“Koyla has informed me you’re going with Mela.” Syla did nothing to veil the disapproval she projected.
“Well, I was—at least until you threw your considerable girth in my path. Pardon me.” He tried to step around her, but Syla flung out an arm to block his way.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she hissed into his ear. “You think that this will help you become a Rashani—as if a new teacher could make up for your shortcomings. It’s pathetic, boy, and if the mission fails, I’ll know exactly who to blame.”
Vis met her hate-filled expression unflinchingly. “In that case, I expect the highest praise when we succeed.”
They held each other’s gaze for what felt like hours, flinging nasty emotions at each other like mortar-fire on an ancient battlefield, until Syla dropped her arm to let him pass. Vis headed for the door, knowing that Syla would throw something at him at any moment; one last spiteful comment for the road. He was determined to ignore it and get on with his day.
“Some advice,” Syla called after him, right on cue. “Once you’re gone, you’d be doing the Enclave a favour if you never come back!”
Vis gritted his teeth, struggling to keep going. Just let her have her stupid, meaningless victory. But the urge to fight back burned within him, and he stopped, inches from the exit, to glance at Syla over his shoulder.
“I’ll miss you too, Syla,” he said, flashing an extra-toothy smile. “Try not to choke on a dick while I’m away.” And with that, he was out the door and finished with Syla for some time.
* * *
Officially, Rashani possessed no ships of their own. The common stereotype was that they hitchhiked across the galaxy, earning their passage through menial tasks in order to reach their destination. The journey was as much a test of their capabilities as the mission, or so it was said. There had probably been a time when this had been true, when Rashani had been reduced to exchanging simple labour for travel, but it was hard to say why the myth had persisted to the present day. No native Utopian would dare charge a Rashani for a flight off-world, not in this age. There was a deep, ingrained respect for the Rashani that permeated Utopian society; it could be said to be as much in the blood as Rashani powers were. Every store had discounts for them, and bars let members of the Sisterhood drink free on weekends. Most commercial flights leaving Utopia had a Rashani class, right up behind the cockpit, which could carry up to twenty noble warriors to the stars above at no cost.
However, for particularly urgent missions, a handful of special ships had been constructed for use by Rashani alone. They were known as Moonsabers, and one had been chartered for the flight to the Consortium. After a short taxi ride to the shuttle port, free of charge to members of the Sisterhood, they were met by an official who led them to the hangar where their vessel waited.
Next to the vessels beside it, the pale blue Moonsaber looked quite diminutive, less than a third the size of the next smallest. The majority of the ship was the wings, which spread far out to either side, then curved back behind the main body, evoking the image of a crescent moon. Looking at it, Vis felt the sort of wonder he hadn’t experienced since he was very young, and he ran ahead of the others to get a closer look. Everyone knew what a Moonsaber looked like, but seeing one up close and personal was a whole new experience. He stood in the shadow of one of the vast wings, peering up at the smooth underside in awe. He looked across its length, until his eyes found the other side of the ship, where Nue was doing the same thing. She waved.
With a sudden low screech, a metal panel on the bottom of the ship slid open and a stairway unfolded down to the hangar floor. A tall man with olive skin, dressed in a Utopian pilot’s uniform and with a black visor across his eyes, descended the stairs and offered a hand to Mela as she approached. Sensing something important, Vis and Nue came to stand beside their Rashani leader as she shook.
The pilot flashed a bright, white smile at each of them. “Nice to meet you. I’m Donald Othus, and I’ll be your pilot for this little vacation. Since I know you’re going to ask, I’ll just save you some time and tell you I trained at the Utopian Aerospace Academy, and this star-shaped badge here means I graduated top of my class. I am one of only a hundred pilots deemed skilled enough to pilot a Moonsaber, and as far as I’m concerned, there’s none better. Any questions?”
Vis heard all this with a dose of skepticism. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nue shyly raise her hand.
Othus flashed another broad smile. “Yes, you, young lady! What did you want to ask?”
Nue clasped her hands together. “Um, a hundred pilots doesn’t sound like a lot. Is piloting a Moonsaber that hard? Or, uh, dangerous?”
Othus gave a firm shake of his head, his long black hair swinging. “Nothing to worry about, little miss—not with me in control. The Moonsaber handles as smooth as glass, like a boat on a calm summer lake. But piloting one for the Rashani is an honour that has to be earned. It would make the Academy look bad if we allowed the bad pilots to take this responsibility.”
There was a hint of sucking-up in Othus’s tone that Vis didn’t like. Respecting the Rashani was fine, but this sounded like a waste of good pilots. “What’s with the shades?”
Othus lifted said ‘shades’ to stare at Vis with a pair of blue eyes. “Oh, excuse me, I mistook you for another young lady. The visor protects my eyes against harmful stellar rays while I’m flying.”
“Aren’t the starshields designed to protect against that already?” Vis asked.
“I have a friend who used to say the same thing. Guy had perfect vision, never needed glasses for anything. Seven years of flying across the galaxy, and he had to quit—eyes went bad, said everything looked like a smear. He’s gotten better since, but he’ll never fly again.” Othus let the visor fall back over his eyes. “It’s OK to fly unprotected once in awhile, but spend hours in the cockpit and it’s another story. That’s not even getting into the weird shit you see in hyperspace.”
“Will we need visors as well?” Nue asked.
“Not unless you plan on watching over my shoulder for hours on end,” said Othus. “Right, maybe we should save the rest of the questions for later. We’ve got a flight to Croish to make, and I know none of you want to waste time getting there.” He turned about and climbed back into the belly of the ship, Vis and the others following behind.
The interior of the Moonsaber was divided into four main compartments. There was the cockpit, of course, but behind that was the living area where the passengers would spend the journey. With the size of the ship, the living area felt quite small with four people in it, and the furniture consisted solely of cushion-like objects that worked double-duty as both chairs and beds. A door off to one side led to the closet where the toilet was kept, and beneath them was the largely unused cargo hold. At the very back of the ship was the engine room, which Othus strongly advised they keep out of for their own safety. He gave them a very brief tour before departing for the cockpit.
“Make yourselves comfortable,” he said as he walked through the open passage. “We’ll be taking off in about five minutes.”
Vis wasted no time claiming his territory, dragging one of the shapeless cushions into the round alcove at the back of the chamber. He set his bag down beside him and lowered himself into the pillowy mass, which shifted under his weight to accommodate him. As both Mela and Koyla had asked him not to get in the way, this seemed a smart place to stay.
To his surprise, Nue dragged another cushion into the alcove and sat down across from him. That left Mela with most of the chamber to herself, and she did the very Rashani thing of simply seating herself on one of the cushions cross-legged.
A low hum filled Vis’ ears, gradually growing to become a minor annoyance. A crackle of static echoed through the ship, and Othus’ voice boomed over the loudspeaker. “All right, engines are running. Hope you guys are snug, because we’re taking off in three… two…”
Vis was glad Othus had warned them, otherwise he might not have noticed them leaving the ground. The floor barely shook as lift-off was announced, then nothing. He shared a frown with Nue, and then stood to pull back the shutter over one of the windows. The sight of the cities of Utopia rapidly dwindling below them sucked the breath from his lungs and made him dizzy. Nue stood beside him and gasped at the sight.
“This is amazing!” she exclaimed, then jabbed her finger against the window. “Look, I think I see the Enclave!”
Vis regained his composure and reluctantly followed the direction of her pointing finger. There it was, the spires unmistakable even from this height, but it too was shrinking away, soon to be gone. Some Rashani might feel a pang of homesickness at the sight; all Vis felt was relief. He was out at last, free of all the stigmas of his birth, to see the galaxy that he one day hoped to serve.