Meltdown Ophilion - Book One

41_ARCANE IV

"I have a feeling, now that I'm here... we won't be going back to work at the plant," Celli said. "I think the Antarion are right – the chance of the rulers calling off the tests is small. The chance of the Chiefs sabotaging the tests is none." The others listened carefully; they felt it too. "I was hoping that we would help to find a way to stop the tests... they're right: the Order, the Baccaran, they'll never stop until they destroy everything. I feel it now... being back on-world, I feel it."

"I agree with you, Celli." It was Jenna. "This is what they were trying to tell us the whole time. If they wanted to become the rulers the first thing they would do is stop the tests – they could easily do that; and as far as breaking their Code goes, taking control of a planet – or two planets – is certainly a greater infraction than stopping the tests. What do you boys think?"

There was silence for a few seconds. "I guess you're right," Fel said, "If they are going to keep their Code they have to allow our rulers to act freely. They even have to allow the Baccaran to act freely. I'll admit, on one hand, I don't want things to change, I have a pretty good life, I like what I do... did... I don't know." He shook his head to clear his thoughts. "But then I think about everything the Antarion told us; what they gave us. It's hard to believe that they're working against us. I hope we really can find a way to stop the tests and somehow convince the rulers to change course, but... I don't know. Orion?"

The pilot was also studying the ceiling, but his mind was muddled. He could feel the conflicting streams of energy coursing through his body. He felt the Antarion were probably benevolent. He felt that they could also be plotting and using them. He felt that the Baccaran might not even exist. He felt that he should stay with the Chiefs here, underground – he had more in common with them than anyone else. He could use his natural abilities to help them do whatever it was they were doing – what Monti was doing.

He could bring his mom here to live with the people who still saw her as Keneso – who would see him as Keneso. He was tired of living like a Cholan, it was not his natural state. "I don't know," he sighed, "maybe you're right. Maybe I'm just too tired to think about all this." He gave a half-hearted chuckle.

"I'll agree with you there," Fel said, and yawned loudly. "I hope the Antarion can see us this far underground."

"We have some time," Celli said.

"Three calah," Fel reminded her. "What if the Chiefs don't let us leave? They could keep us here indefinitely if they want. I mean, how are we going to escape?"

"How are we going to convince them to come with us?" Jenna corrected him.

Orion sighed again. For the twentieth time he wished they had never found that cursed sphere. He seriously wondered if the amazing discoveries were really worth being in this state of deep existential conflict. Smoldering resentment at the world in general was preferable to this.

"Things will be clearer in the morning," Jenna said. She was concerned about Orion. She felt his conflict. She realized that these were his people. She wondered what he would decide to do in the morning.

One by one the com-op, the gunner and the Regalan dropped off to sleep. The pilot remained awake. He could hear his friends' breathing change as they drifted into unconsciousness. He wondered if it were possible that he could also find sleep in his agitated state. He rose from the couch, visited the bathroom, then walked to the window.

The photon portals were dark and the street lights were dim. Most people had moved indoors for the evening, except for a couple at the far end of the street and a group of young people under a calipo tree. He could hear indistinct conversation and suppressed laughter. They had probably been reprimanded often for disturbing the peace too late in the evening with their adolescent rowdiness. He could fit in here. But if the Antarions' predictions were right it wouldn't matter. All of these people would die – maybe more slowly than the people on the surface – but they would not survive the effects of the weapons tests; they took air from the surface of the com-zone; their filtration systems would not save them.