By the second morning, the Stardust reached its final target. The planet Deju orbited a large, blue star, intense and deadly in the heat of its youth. Its great size and energy pushed the habitable zone for organic life much further out than that of a comfortably mid yellow star. Deju lay within this zone, but the distance between itself and the star meant that its year was three and a half times the length of the standard Earth year. Like any place worth visiting, they observed the Earth Equivalent Time of 2340, though by their own measure, the year was 1509. 1509 since what, exactly? The Dejuoans had different explanations for that, according to whichever belief they followed. You’d have to hear them tell it.

  Apart from their calendar, which bears little more than a passing fancy, the Dejuoans were remarkable in their adaptation to a world inundated with blue spectrum dominated light. This feature of their planet proved unsettling long term to visitors from other worlds, the majority of whom instinctively preferred warmer tones. It meant even the most eager tourists didn’t stick around long. The people of Deju, at least in any city with a spaceport, liked it this way. They were more than content to cater to the fair-weather traveler or pleasure-seeker, indulging their senses to the point of overload, while securing high profits for themselves followed by quick guest turnover.

  But where the Dejuoans were crafty, the Iolites were ten times as much. The surface of this world boasted some of the galaxy’s most decadent night clubs and concert venues, while deep below laid the priceless mineral rights sold generations before. It was a mutually beneficial relationship, as long as the customers at every stratum remained contented. Generalities aside, the majority of these fine people were engaged in the same feudal provincialism that was endemic before the arrival of the rock mongers from beyond the stars. Only three cities on Deju catered to the cosmopolitan, intergalactic crowd, and those three lay in cluster on a continent near the planet’s equator. Who could say what transpired on the rest of the globe?

  The present target for those onboard the Stardust lay beneath the largest, and most centrally located city, Tenphi. Predictably, it was an older mine on the verge of running dry long ago; abandoned by its crews just as a new vein was discovered. At the time of the desertion, the reports were filed, the statements were made, and the discussion was tabled for another time. But that was more than seventy years ago, when business was booming. These days, the table was looking a little leaner, so the time had come to reheat a scrap or two from a richer age.

  “…As you can imagine, anyone who ever worked there is either dead or old enough to wish they were. And regretfully, my uncle informed me that the files pertaining to the closure were lost several system updates ago. But this is a civilized place with little reason to assume we would run into trouble, so I don’t see why we shouldn’t just dock the ship and all head out this time!” Nash ended her overview on a high note, without a single interruption from her normally rambunctious companions. Though who could blame them for their present demeanor? As she surveyed the solemn, silent faces of her friends, she couldn’t help but take stock of the toll these last few weeks had taken. The strain of it all, the constant jumping between worlds, never being tethered to anything real. It couldn’t last much longer.

  As she scanned them once more, she realized one was missing. “Where’s Sohrab?” A dull silence met her in return, until at last Greg spoke up.

  “I think he’s still asleep…” he yawned, rubbing his eyes as he contemplated finishing the mug of coffee that went cold an hour ago. “…he can rally, but not when you need him to.”

  Nash made her way back to the miniscule sleeping chambers to rouse the straggler. The door to Sohrab’s room slid open, and sure enough, she saw little more than that long mess of white hair to indicate it was him. “We have to land soon.” She called to him kindly, but not too kindly. There was no response.

  Behind her, Kory appeared. She had her own perspective to offer. “They don’t have time on his world, not the normal kind.”

  “He showed you that too did he?” Nash muttered.

  “Yes, before we landed on Rallus-Beta, but there was another one we saw last night when we were alone. We both died in an explosion.” Kory continued in the same flat tone.

  “I wouldn’t take his ‘revelations’ too seriously, he lies even to himself.” Nash dismissed, waiting to see if Sohrab would move at the sound of her accusation.

  “Did he tell you about his wife?” Kory prodded, louder this time.

  “Of course, but nothing is legally binding because his people aren’t in the official registers. So as far as the ‘real world’ is concerned…”

  “Enough!” Sohrab groaned, still beneath the blanket and facing the wall. “Ten minutes, damn.”

  Nash closed his door without another word. She and Kory left having accomplished their goal, but with more questions than answers; typical of interactions with ‘his majesty.’ Better to leave it unsaid and unbothered.

  #

  The spaceport in Tenphi was located relatively close to the city center, an uncommon convenience in interplanetary travel. But what it boasted in proximity it lacked in size and reliability. Flying commercial came with the promise of missed connections and cramped seats on something not much larger than a bus with a warp engine taped to the back; non-existent concerns for those who flew private.

  In the afternoon the inhabitants of the Stardust found themselves drifting through the downtown area with the vast, unwashed crowds of plebians and partygoers. Dripping with sweat, pupils dilated, and caked in streaks of neon paint, the crowds flowed like waves between raves, clubs, and concerts. The whole place felt inorganic in some way, as if it had been designed to filter the people from their rickeldy starships to the venues and booze halls with the cheap hotel rooms above and back again. Wide walkways and a token monorail passing at ten-minute intervals overhead projected the image of a theme park, rather than a natural city. Geographically, it wasn’t even located near a feature, like an ocean or river, where a town might evolve on its own. From the top looking down, Tenphi appeared to be a nonsense place in the middle of nowhere, like the twenty-first century music festivals of Earth that had all but passed into legend.

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  Like its desert-bound forebears, the constant, pounding resonance of dulled percussion never faltered, shaking the ground beneath their feet. At that level it transcended from sound to feeling, all unfolding and reverberating below the oppressive sun. There was no mistaking the aforementioned unsettling quality of its sapphire light. How was it that the afternoon was bluer than the morning?

  The unassuming visitors all sported warm-tinted sunglasses as they walked through the daylight, dressed similarly to those around them in contrast to their typical utilitarian style. Showing up to the never-ending DJ set looking like janitors wouldn’t suit the mood at all. Although Greg had on an unseemly trench coat for some reason, in spite of it being a balmy seventy degrees Fahrenheit. Usually, only Sohrab did that. But appearances aside, Nash insisted nothing here would take long or get out of hand. It was mostly a diversionary trip. She just had to check up on ‘one thing.’

  Against her better judgement not to complain too openly, Kory asked, “how long is this supposed to take?”

  “Well, if I’m being honest…” Nash, stepped to the side of the street and looked around, waiting for the others to catch up. When they did, she addressed them as one. “…the entrance to the place isn’t far, and there’s no way it takes all of us…” As soon as she spoke Greg shot his hand up to volunteer. The sisters, unlikely allies for once, made a polite exit and excused themselves to go shopping. Zol shuffled off without purpose, liking neither of the prior two options. Sohrab was long gone by now, having muttered to no one that he’d run into someone he recognized.

  Before she knew it, Nash wove through an alley just off the beaten path with Greg alone. In spite of his competence and understanding, he hadn’t been her first choice for this one. His inherent knowledge was an asset, until it wasn’t. She pursed her lips together and drove on with a singular focus, fearful the Human she imagined to be her rival would see one of her people’s biggest mistakes.

  Unbeknownst to the Iolite, the Human had his own inclination that had nothing to do with any sort of planetary-industrial ‘rivalry.’ He was determined to test the limits of power and science, but needed one more component to complete his proof-of-concept. That missing link would unearth itself sooner than he thought. Halfway down the path, they arrived at the side of a large, non-descript, ‘filler’ building positioned in the center of the city block. It had no access to any main road, nor did it appear to have a door for that matter. Nash paused for a moment, silently mouthing some verbal instructions to herself. Then she approached the featureless, metal wall, and placed her hand against it. A panel of golden light appeared behind her palm and scanned it, revealing the unseen passage beyond.

  The interior of the building was sparse. Whatever it contained in the way of furniture and accoutrement had been cleared out long ago. A faint smell of dust and mildew hung on the motionless air. Something about the damp and the darkness made Nash’s heart beat a little faster. Environs that reminded her, even to a small degree, of that time on Reccorsha unsettled her in a visceral way. Even less calming was the persistent throb of bass and percussion that reverberated around them even now. The sound was harder to ignore without the lights or crowds on the street.

  They walked in silence through the empty rooms, craning their necks to find any scrap of evidence remaining in the dim light. Finding none, Nash motioned for Greg to follow her to a small vestibule at the center of the building, at the center of which was a large, lonely elevator. It had a rough, industrial appearance, implying it predated the structure surrounding it.

  An instructional panel on the left-hand side bore text in old Iolite, a holdover from the time before English became the common parlance. Nash let her fingertips caress the letters embossed into the metal, stamped with care in an age long past. With a mournsome sigh, she read them. Something as mundane as an elevator directory served to show her the peak of a mountain now crumbling at its base.

  “There’s something your films and books haven’t told you…” she said as she pressed a button on the panel. To their great shock, it illuminated. Machinery long atrophied roared to life with a heavy groan, drowning out the pervasive synthetic rhythm if only for an instant. “…about your first encounter with other life, with us.”

  “Commander Newton? The guy we named the Atlanta spaceport after?” Greg chuckled nervously, recalling their first conversation about the topic that first time on Sirmnoc. Huddling inside that little old spaceship against the howling wind, waiting against hope for Kory and Zol to return from the ruined temple. It seemed like an eternity ago. He vaguely recalled her bringing up Mars, and hoped she wouldn’t again. The subject had accrued a certain sensitivity in recent decades. Moments like these made him grateful she wasn’t the one who could read minds.

  His thought was cut short by the arrival of the massive, clunking elevator. It opened vertically from the center. The inside was poorly lit and more than a little rusted, but otherwise functional. Once upon a time, one might have even said it was engineered well. They stepped inside and faced the door. The creaky jolt of descent followed soon after.

  The carriage dropped firmly, but smoothly down the shaft. A dot of light, indicating the depth of their travel, blinked down a column of small bulbs forming a line parallel to the door. Meanwhile, Nash continued her odd line of questioning. “Your culture paints him as this reluctant hero who stumbled into something he barely understood. Didn’t he call the two Iolites he met – what’s the word he used?”

  “Angels,” said Greg. They had these types of conversations less and less as these days. He never liked them. The times she chose to spontaneously point out the differences between his people and hers she felt all the less like a friend and more like… “an alien.”

  “Right… whatever that means… and didn’t he do that because in the moment he believed he was dead?” She pressed.

  “Of course he must have. We didn’t have evidence of life on any other planet until that day. And to see how advanced you all were – are. It was a lot for anyone to understand.” Greg conceded. The drop felt faster than before, and the walls still vibrated with that same pulsing beat. Had it gotten bolder, louder even?

  “And that makes sense to me, but the piece you all are missing…” Nash raised her voice over the increasing roar of the elevator. The blinking light by the door fell faster. “…is how terrified the two scouts were who greeted him. Sure, they put on a brave face when they opened the airlock and took his hands…”

  “It’s not slowing down!” Greg shouted above the deafening screech of machinery and the pounding resonance threatening to tear them apart. His feet felt lighter, less steady. There was nothing on the wall to grab hold of. The indicator light was nearly at the bottom of the column now. Surely they would be crushed by the force of the impact on the mine’s floor.

  Nash’s hands glowed to life in an instant as she summoned a force field around the both of them. “…you all were the first ones we caught trying to leave their own planet. No one else came close…” The car fell faster, rendering both of them weightless for an instant. “…they knew even then that you would spell our –” Nash and Greg clung to one another, crouching within the bright, lavender sphere as their heavy, would-be tomb came crashing down at last. “– ruin.”