The First Penitatas
Chapter 41 – The Arkship

Captain Ukekke floated toward the handrails and steadied himself before dropping into the spinning habitation ring. The growing downward pull made his limbs ache but he tried his best to ignore the discomfort as he took the ladder rung by rung. The ring was chilly compared to the central hull, something he made a mental note of to raise later. The final distraction before heading onward was to peer through the nearest window: centuries of cosmic dust had scratched the thick glass, but the stars were still clear enough. He studied them until his limbs felt strong again, then walked confidently to the classroom.
In the cramped room a dozen Kyyreni cubs were waiting. The youngest was four years old, the eldest twelve. The boys were black-furred, the girls grey; all were small, thin and lean. The latter were traits common to all the crew.
“Children, our special guest has arrived!” the teacher called out. Her name was Alske. She was a venerable old woman, little more than flesh draped over fragile bones. She had been Ukekke's teacher back when he was a boy; many believed that she was kept alive by sheer force of will alone, refusing to die until she'd seen Destiny. Ukekke sincerely hoped he could grant her wish.
“Good afternoon.” Ukekke greeted the youngsters, noting the eager wag of their tails at the prospect of something new. “I understand that this is story time, yes?”
“Story time!” one of the youngest echoed. The older children were less impressed.
“Yes, stories are important. They are how we pass on knowledge and values. Stories remind us of who we are, where we came from, and where we are going. There is one story above all others that imparts that lesson. The story of the [i]Oaths[/i] itself. I know some of you have heard this story already, but repetition is important. You must listen and learn, etch the words into your heart so that the story becomes a part of you, as it did for me, for your teacher, for your parents and grandparents. This story is about all of us, and all who came before, and all who will come after. One day this story will be told around campfires by Kyyreni who sit in lush fields of grass, with clouds above their heads. One day it will be told by people who have never known the inside of a starship. For those yet unborn, you must listen and learn.
“This story is, as I said, of our vessel: the [i]Oaths to Destiny[/i]. To understand why we undertook this mission you must know of Urokon, the world we left behind. Urokon is a cruel world; half the planet is a scorched desert, blasted by the – yes?” his story halted when a small cub raised his hand.
“What's a 'desert', captain?” the youth asked.
“A desert is a place that is very hot and very dry, and the ground is made up of little bits of grit and dirt.”
The boy seemed content with this answer, so with a smile the captain continued, “- half the planet, as I said, is a scorched desert, blasted by the heat of its star. The other half is a freezing wasteland, shrouded in a permanent night as black as the void between the stars. Where these two extremes met was a narrow band of fertile land where food and warmth was plentiful. The Kyyreni on the homeworld fought each other to control this land, this 'Dawn', and the tribes who called themselves Dawnsiders were the victors of those wars. Yet even they could not share, for each Dawn Tribe fought with their neighbours to have more food, more land, more resources.”
“Why didn't they share?” a slightly older child asked.
Again, the captain took the interruption with good humour. “A good question. One of the reasons was they were simply not like us – we are what they called 'Nightsiders' as our ancestors lived on the cold side of Urokon. The people on the hot side were the 'Daysiders'. I think that the tribes of the homeworld had fought each other for so long that they simply could not imagine living any other way.”
“That's stupid!” the child blurted out, prompting the teacher to scold them.
Ukekke nodded. “Yes, it was 'stupid', as you say. If I may resume the tale? Thank you. With so many wars fought over control of resources, and all their efforts at cooperation failing as often as succeeding, our ancestors began to wonder if there was another way. They looked to the stars, imagining that there might be other places for Kyyreni to live. The worlds closest to Urokon were poor worlds unsuited to life, but the ancestors did not lose hope. They looked at the stars beyond the nearest, and then the stars beyond those, and farther out again. They built bigger telescopes and mounted them on satellites to look out at the cosmos, and that's when they saw it – a new world! A world that had water, the font of all life! A world they christened 'Destiny'! This world could be a new home for all Kyyreni, and the ancestors brought word of it to all. Alas, the warring tribes would not listen. Space to them was just another battlefield, for no sooner had the first Kyyreni gone to space did the tribes begin to fight for control of the void above their world, or for control of the other planets in the system. The ancestors realised that they would bring this war to Destiny if they could.
“Thankfully, the warring tribes had no interest in Destiny. It was too far away, they said. No ship could reach it, for the crew would die of old age long before arriving! They were right, but that distance was precisely why our ancestors were now more determined than ever to reach it! The warring tribes would never make the long trek, and Destiny would therefore never know conflict.
“So they built this great Arkship, the most advanced vessel ever made, and they bade farewell to Urokon. They knew they would not live to see even half the journey completed, but that did not matter to them; their children would be born aboard, born into a family that knew no conflict, a great community united in purpose. That first generation were born, grew up, had children, and passed the mission on. This is our most precious duty: to raise you, teach you, train you, and ultimately to bestow upon you the knowledge of how to operate and maintain the [i]Oaths to Destiny[/i], that you might see its great exodus completed.”
The captain gave a contented sigh, enjoying the eagerness etched into the muzzles of the young. The older children were sceptical, as was the way of older children, but he knew how to deal with them. “Now I wish to tell you something else, something personal. When I was your age, and sat in this very classroom in fact, the captain himself came to tell us this very story. He also told us that the chief navigator believed that we were thirty, perhaps forty years away from Destiny. That was... gosh, twenty-five years ago!”
Now he had the attention of the older children. The younger ones took a little longer to crunch the numbers, but soon every face bore the same look of awe, every pair of eyes locked on him with rapt attention. “Yes, children, we are indeed close to finishing the journey! But there are many years yet to go, and so you must attend your studies and remember the lessons well. Someone in this very room might well be the captain who guides our ship to Destiny. I am sure, as sure as I stand here before you, that you will all stand upon Destiny's soil. I just hope I get to stand there with you.”

He left the classroom in a good mood, but the warm inner glow had all but faded when he reached the ship's central spine once more. Tired from the climb, Ukekke drifted weightlessly through the access corridors toward the command room. He arrived mere seconds before his wrist-mounted chrono chimed, its call echoed by everyone already present and a handful drifting in behind him. The senior officers took their places, clinging to whatever handholds they could find. The captain cleared his throat and addressed the helmsman first. “What's the status of our navigation system?”
Before the navigator could reply the chief engineer cut him off. “We're flying almost blind, captain, but that's not the issue we need to be concerned with right now. The folding engine is lost.”
The words were met by the deepest silence Ukekke had ever known. “Lost?” he repeated, his own voice seeming to come from far, far away.
“Yes, captain. We took the whole engine apart to find the flaw, and it turns out to be a cascade failure; critical components burned out, causing a chain reaction that destroyed secondary components. The whole engine is lost,” he repeated.
“We have reserve parts, surely?”
“No,” the word came down like a slamming airlock door. “We can fabricate some basic replacements, but the core components are beyond our means to replicate. We have used up all the spares and have no means to produce more.”
“What if-”
“Captain!” the engineer snapped at the protest. “Please [i]listen[/i] to me! I have gone over every option, I have tried to have our machine shop build replacement parts, but nothing has worked. We canot physically produce the key components – we lack the materials, the industry and, frankly, the knowledge. The engine is dead, sir. She'll never fold space again.”
The words were given a lifetime to sink in. The sombre pause was broken only by the ship's Morale Officer, who hid her face and wept softly in the corner.
“Very well,” Ukekke said at last. “Then we must reassess. Do we still have forward momentum?”
The helmsman finally got his turn to speak. “Aye, captain. The chemical engines are still well-stocked and we've carried momentum from the last burn all this way. As best we can tell we are still pointed at Destiny's Star, so it's simply a question of time. At present speed... I'd say we're fifty years away.”
Ukekke shook his head, “unacceptable. You have the go to begin a controlled engine burn. Build us up some speed.”
“We should hold off the burn for now, captain,” the quartermaster interjected. “Given the situation we should begin dumping dead weight to improve efficiency. There is another matter, one that is not going to be easy to hear; we won't last fifty years.”
The engineer huffed in pained agreement. “He's right on that. The maintenance demands alone are piling up beyond our ability to keep pace. The solar panels are dead weight right now, the batteries hold a tenth of their original charge at best, and we're springing leaks so fast it's a wonder there's any air and water left aboard!”
“Then let's put the cards on the table. Sound off your best guesses – I don't need details, I just need to know where the redlines are. How long until each system gives out. Food?”
“Food will last,” the head of agriculture confirmed. “The farms are fine.”
“Water?”
“Clean, drinkable water? I... ten years at current rate of use.”
Ukekke flinched at the number. “Then we're all on immediate emergency rations in perpetuity. Do everything you can to up recycling and prevent loss. What about power?”
“Cut general consumption by a third and we'll have forty years worth.”
“Good. Medical?”
The ship's doctor seemed to age before his eyes. “We were running out of medicines as it is,” she confessed. “Worst case? We run out of drugs in a year. It depends on whether I can keep the labs running.”
“I know it's not easy to hear, but we might have to surrender that. Navigation is our next priority: run the numbers based on current fuel reserves and figure out if we can make it. If we can, get us there as fast as possible! We don't begin the burn until the calculations are done. Meanwhile, you can all help by sweeping your sections of anything to jettison. I know things look grim, but keep heart: we have come farther than any Kyyreni before us! We did not come all this way to trip on the last rung!”

Life aboard the [i]Oaths[/i] had never been easy, but the exacting emergency measures made the life all the more terrible.
Alske was one of the first victims of the emergency protocols. The elders were told of the situation, as was their right, and Ukekke personally encouraged them to find ways to make the ship's resources stretch. Without a word, Alske had departed the meeting. They found her in an airlock thirty minutes later, dead by suffocation. In the weeks and months that followed others chose to follow her example; within a year there wasn't a soul aboard above the age of forty.
The crew were forced to become accustomed to the cold and the dark, more so than they had ever been. The youngest proved useful inadvertently, naturally seeking out all the nooks and crannies where heat pooled naturally. Their antics inevitably led engineering teams to finding bleed points in the insulation systems; patching those increased efficiency and energy recovery, buying a little more life.
For six long years, Ukekke met with whoever wished to speak with him. He spoke to young and old alike, from the senior staff to the lowest crewman. He spoke to them long after they had all stopped listening, and soon after retired to the bridge in perpetuity. He took up the communications station, spending almost all his waking hours listening through an ancient, threadbare pair of headphones to the universe outside. When asked he would say, “There may be other Arkships out here. The [i]Pilgrim of the Burning God[/i], or the [i]Celestial Wayfinder[/i]. We had communication with them once, long, long ago. They might still be there.”
At least once a month, the senior staff met in a freezing dark room and reviewed their situation. The calculations of survival were always the most discussed topic; there were deep divides on what was the best approach, but such debates were conducted in soft, reserved exchanges. No-one aboard had the strength left for a blazing row.
Nine years after losing the folding engine, Ukekke finally changed his stance. It was the argument of the ship's navigator that swayed him. “Based on what we know of the system, we should have reached the outer planetary ring by now. We're behind, captain; at this rate we'll bleed out in the black long before we even lay eyes on the habitable zone. We need to perform a burn.”
“Then make it so.” Ukekke conceded, and was present on the bridge for the manoeuvre.
The burn lasted ten minutes, and was followed by a much longer period of quiet, tense exchanges between the navigator and chief engineer. “Something seems to have gone wrong,” was all the explanation he got.
The chief engineer pursued the matter personally, bringing in as few crew as was required and swearing them to silence on what they found. Ukekke was updated three days later. “The burn failed because the primary fuel tank was empty,” he said. “We sprang a leak somewhere, Gods alone know when or how. The monitoring systems... they never registered the bleed.”
“So we're dead.” It wasn't a question.
The chief engineer blinked back tears. “Aye, captain. There's no hope of us ever achieving a stable orbit now.”
Ukekke gazed at nothing for several agonising minutes. “Have the helm make best speed to Destiny. We... we deserve to see her at least. Before we die.”
“Do we tell the crew?”
“No. Not a word. Let them have hope. Let them... let them live a little longer.”
The Kyyreni accepted the order with a terse nod. It broke Ukekke's heart to watch the man float away; a man who had a wife and son. Ukekke at least had been spared the burden of family.

Returning to the familiar comfort of the communications station, Ukekke powered on the primary transmitter for the first time in decades. As the old, decrepit system spluttered into life he switched on the internal communications system, licked his dry, cracked lips and rasped a message to his people. “This is the captain. Our situation is dire. This much you know, and have known for many years. Though our power reserves are low and fading fast, I have made a decision to reactivate the outbound communication system. Though the odds are slim, I intend to broadcast an emergency request for aid. It is possible there are other Arkships out here, willing and able to render aid. Keep the faith, good people. Destiny lies ahead. We will see her yet.”
The message to the [i]Oaths[/i] completed, Ukekke spoke now to the void. “This is captain Ukekke of the Arkship [i]Oaths to Destiny[/i]. We are in distress. Our critical systems are failing and we require immediate aid. Any ship receiving this, please respond.”
He sat and waited. How long would it take for the message to be received? The signal would cross the system in a matter of hours in theory, but if the Arkship were elsewhere, even a nearby star, it could take years...
The captain shuddered. It did not bear thinking about. All he could do was try.
He hunched over his console, breath frosting in the icy cold, and repeated his message.
The universe responded with only static.

[center]*   *   *[/center]

Hafn was wearing a groove in the floor of the palace entrance hall with his pacing. He'd learned about the promises Kadan had made to his friend, Skal prior to the Revelry; an offer to go to space, which had been revoked because of the lad sneaking out. The story had been recounted in the school playground and it had stuck in Hafn's mind. He'd caused Skal plenty of misery without meaning to and now, at last, it seemed he had a chance to repay that mistake. “But how do I make sure he says yes?” Hafn asked as he paced.
“Say yes to what?” the girl nearby asked.
Hafn paused to glance towards Kelsee, his Karrian slave-girl. The green-scaled lizard was stood nearby, watching him anxiously as he paced. Her concern was not for herself – he'd won her over quickly – but for him. “Oh. I'm just talking to myself. It helps me to figure stuff out,” he said before gesturing up the stairs. “You don't have to hang around here if you don't want to, you can always go back to our room.”
“You don't want me to stay with you?” the girl asked. She was nude bar the collar and cuffs she wore. She seemed to enjoy being on display; Hafn certainly wasn't going to complain about that!
“No! I like having you with me!” Hafn answered hastily. The boy's gaze lingered on her stomach as his thoughts shifted gears. “Hey, umm, would you be okay if I had to leave the palace for a while? Like, a few weeks, or months?” Kelsee's shocked expression answered for him. “It's just I'm hoping to go on a ship. I didn't know if that's something you'd want to do.”
The lizard girl flashed a nervous smile. “I'm not sure I like the idea of going on a ship after...” she hugged herself, tail falling limp behind her. Hafn had the wherewithal to hurry over and embrace her. He felt her melt in his embrace.
“If you really don't want me to leave then I'll stay. I might not even be allowed in the first place!”
“Allowed to do what?” an older voice asked from behind.
Hafn turned, blushing as if he'd been caught in the act. “Oh! Eskal! I... where have you been?”
Eskal's brow furrowed. “What did you do?” he asked sternly.
“N-nothing! I was... I'm trying to figure out how to ask for something.”
“What 'something'?”
“I... want to go on a ship. Just around the system! With Skal.”
The comment made Eskal smile, and Hafn hated that. It usually meant he'd said or done something wrong, which his 'mentor' intended to pounce upon. “Rumour has it that Skal was recently offered a chance to tour with the Border Guard, only to have that privilege revoked.”
Guilt made the boy glance away, but to his surprise he felt a soft-scaled paw squeeze his own. Kelsee's gentle touched helped him rally. “He wouldn't be going with the Border Guard. He'd be going with House Vaskal.”
“The House has no reason to bring some wayward little ragamuffin on a jaunt around the system.” Eskal seemed to find enjoyment in shooting Hafn's ambitions down.
The boy snarled, which only made Eskal's grin wider. Summoning what little authority a seven-year-old could he snapped back, “I am Hafn Tavik! If that name means anything I ought to be able to leave the palace without permission!” The shout seemed to catch Eskal momentarily flat-footed. “Aren't a bunch of our ships part of the Tavik Clan? They're loyal to me, right? Not Taviksaad, but my bloodline. Doesn't... shouldn't I actually meet these people? Go on their ships?”
Eskal let out a quiet chuckle. “You started strong, but you really need to work on the follow-through.”
“Are-”
“Ah!” Eskal jabbed a finger at the boy. “You've said your piece, now leave it with me. You'll just shove a foot in your own craw and botch the whole idea! Is the little lass coming with you?”
Hafn turned back to Kelsee, who made a timid nod despite her obvious anxiety. “Yes, please,” Hafn confirmed.
“Good. Then be scarce and don't bring it up again to anyone else. I'll clear it with the Lord Governor.”
“Thank you, Eskal!”
“Oh don't thank me yet!” the Dawnsider replied with a flick of his tail before ascending the stairs in search of his Lord. “Fate has ample opportunity to sour your wishes yet!”

Kadan was in a foul mood and, as was his way, he had no issues with making that known to the young man across from him, even if that man was the Lord Governor. “I don't see what business it is of yours who I promote to Enforcer-General!” he snarled.
Wokun shook his head in disbelief. “Do I truly have to explain why you cannot promote Raan to that office?”
“Yes you do! Raan has stepped up to every challenge thrown his way and excelled! He's my best captain of the line and I know he can handle the role!”
The Lord-Governor huffed through grit teeth. “a Daysider cannot be second in command of my Enforcers, Kadan.”
“Why not? Because of Haakyr and his mad bastards? We put them in the ground! Raan is part of the reason we still have a functioning Guild after that fucking mess!”
“It is more complex than that. There are - I don't know why I'm even discussing this matter with you!” Wokun said, clearly exasperated.  “I forbid it. You will choose someone else.”
Kadan scoffed. “You 'forbid it'?”
“You are forgetting your place!” Wokun snarled back, to which the Guildmaster rolled his shoulders.
“I remember what happened the last time you threw punches at me. That's how you 'high born' settle issues, isn't it? Why don't you and I go down to that arena and see who walks back out?”
Both men turned at the sound of knuckles rapping on the door frame. Eskal stood there, smiling amiably, his weight on his elegant walking cane. “I do hope I'm not interrupting.” he said pleasantly.
“This is not a good time,” Wokun replied.
Eskal shrugged. “For what it's worth, I think you should permit Kadan's choice of Enforcer-General.  I imagine it would leave the right people awfully confused as to what you're up to, and the time they spend trying to figure out what your non-existent scheme is would allow a little point-scoring with the Tavik Clan.”
Wokun's eyes narrowed. “What about the Clan?”
“Hafn's had an idea. A good one.” Eskal replied.
“That's a first.”
“Indeed, but a good first all the same. He wants a little tour of the system, a touting of the colours as it were. He would go aboard one of their ships with a small entourage to remind the Clan they are valued and respected, and use the voyage to perform official visits, make the outer stations feel noticed, that sort of thing.”
Wokun cast a brief, side-long glance at Kadan before giving Eskal his full focus. “This sounds more like your plan than his.”
“I'm co-opting it for my own ends, that's true,” Eskal nodded. “I had a productive Revelry this year. Ivaka accepted my proposal, and I hope to take my leave of you soon.”
“You're marrying the tavern owner?”
“Yes, Lord. Gods willing, we'll have a child next year.”
Wokun rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “I must admit that I'm not keen to lose you, Eskal. But-” he glanced to Kadan again, “-I seem to surround myself with men who won't take 'no' for an answer. So fine, leave. Enjoy your life among the Thralls.”
Eskal bowed. “Thank you, Lord-Governor. Oh, Hafn has requested that Skal be part of his entourage.”
“Fuck that!” Kadan snarled. “The boy's grounded!”
Wokun grinned. “You can have Raan as Enforcer-General, or you can keep Skal planet-side. Not both.”
“Did you two plan this?”
“Serendipitous coincidence, Guildmaster,” Eskal beamed in reply.
Kadan shot the man a murderous glare. “Someone really ought to smack that smart fucking mouth of yours.”
“Someone did. His name was Haakyr.” the war-wounded Kyyreni bowed to Wokun. “If I may indulge in a little more shit-stirring, perhaps Kadan should accompany us as well? Let Raan prove his worth by running the show for a few weeks.”
Now it was Kadan's turn to grin, though Wokun did a much better job of keeping his true opinions concealed. “If his promotion would rile our rivals up as you claim, then having him as acting-Guildmaster would be doubly effective. Kadan, make sure he knows to report to me within two hours of you leaving the planet. I will take a measure of the man personally.”

Within a few short weeks, the expedition into the void was prepared. Skal spent every free moment leading up to the adventure reading about starships, pouring over whatever he could find with a  ravenous attentiveness that his father wished was applied to his actual studies.
The only thing he seemed to care about other than his books was Sam. The girl was unhappy at being left behind; for her sake, Kadan made sure the two cubs had plenty of time together before their departure. Haal vowed to look after her until their return.
Though he never spoke of it to anyone, Kadan was secretly nervous about the mission. He had never gone beyond the orbital docks before and he was not keen to plunge so far into the black, even if in space-faring terms he was barely stepping off the front porch. Space was far too big, far too empty; it seemed self-evident to him that Kyyreni were not welcome there. If they were, the void would be warmer, and full of oxygen.
The ship their shuttle approached as it cleared the atmosphere seemed to Kadan to be little different to a hundred other vessels; a long oval design with three primary engines at one end and a pair of stubby wing-like extensions on the midship that served no clear purpose to his inexpert eye. Skal made anxious little whimpers as the vessel grew larger in the view-ports, while Eskal quietly, yet insistently grilled Hafn on proper etiquette.
The ship crew that met them in the landing bay were fierce and feral Dawnsiders. Four males and one female, all wearing hardy grey jumpsuits worn open and loose so the top half dragged like a cloak and only a heavy-duty belt kept the garment in place. Thick bands of their fur were inked in teal, and all four males had complex, overlapping scars cut into their chests and forearms. It seemed almost odd, given the barbaric appearance, that not one had any form of piercing. Their leader took a half-step forward and stared down Kadan. “I am Arik son of Yorik, Captain of the [i]Three-Ways[/i]. Who presumes to trespass upon my ship?”
Clearly having been primed for this, Hafn inched forward and cleared his throat. “I am Hafn Tavik, Lord of the Clan.”
Arik studied the boy for far longer than was comfortable before raising his fists and bring them together. A facsimile of a smile formed upon his muzzle. “It has been too long since a Tavik stood aboard one of our vessels. We are pleased to have you in our company, Master.”
Hafn mirrored the fist salute, holding it for a count of eight before lowering his arms, with Arik following. “Travelling with me is Eskal, who is my advisor and protector; Kadan, who is Guildmaster of my Enforcers; Skal, who is my informant on matters concerning ships and voidcraft; Kelsee, who is a prize of my station.”
Arik trembled briefly, holding his breath and keeping his jaw firmly still. He seemed to struggle to decide who he should focus on, or possibly laugh at, before singling out Skal. “What manner of information could a boy like you possibly grant our Master?”
Skal's eyes flicked about the landing bay. “Umm... well... I think this ship is a [i]Sorrowthorn[/i] class.”
Now it was Kadan's turn to smirk, for the answer caught Arik flat-footed. “Why do you say that?”
The little boy pointed to the support beams running across the bay. “There seems to be a lot of lateral reinforcement, more than usual I mean. I read that the [i]Sorrowthorn[/i] class was rejected by the Free Armada because of micro-fractures that formed when the ship was exposed to lateral stressing, and to try and offload the ships that were built they were retro-fitted with additional supports.”
“Well well, you know your ships, dirtsider!” Arik laughed before focusing on Hafn once more. “Your companions are welcome among us, Master. Please, permit me to show you your billets.”
“Nice job!” Hafn whispered to Skal as they set off through the ship. “I think you really impressed them!”
Behind them, Kadan hissed his own covert musings to Eskal. “Did you tell him about their ships ahead of time?”
“Not at all,” Eskal answered. “Although I may have had a hand in choosing which books Hafn loaned your son.”
The living arrangements proved to be shockingly spartan. “This is a working ship, you understand,” Arik said as he opened the hatch to reveal a room that would have made most prison cells seem luxurious. “Master, we have reserved this room for you and your entourage. You are all welcome to use the officer's facilities as and when you require.”
Skal followed Hafn through the doorway. Three bunk beds were slotted into the tiny metal box-room, with the remaining space entirely taken up by either storage or emergency equipment. The bunks themselves looked unusually narrow. Again, with the tones of someone reading a script, Hafn nodded to the captain. “Thank you, Arik. These chambers will suffice.”
“I will allow you to settle in. We will be underway in fifteen minutes, and I would be honoured if you were to join us on the bridge for that.” He nodded respectfully to Hafn and left the five to settle in.
“I will have one of the bottom bunks if you don't mind,” Eskal said, tossing his bag at the preferred bed.
“Are we going to share?” Kelsee asked.
Hafn gave the remaining beds a sour glance. “I don't think there's room for both of us in one of these!” Skal, meanwhile, climbed into the bunk above his father without comment. “How can people live like this?”
“I imagine they spend as little time in bed as possible,” Eskal answered as he studied the deck plan on the wall. “This room is for sleep, nothing more. And... the bridge is not on this deck plan.”
Thankfully, the crew were attentive to their guests and made sure they were not late for the launch. The bridge was narrow and utilitarian, with the captain's swivel-chair in the centre. Above him was a ring of screens that were dark upon entry, but as Hafn and the others were invited to stand by the chair they flickered into life. Gesturing upward, Arik explained, “we've set these monitors to the external camera system. It will add a little more drama. Master, I offer you the honour to get us underway.”
There was a brief pause, and a subtle clearing of the throat from Eskal. Hafn hastily bowed his head to Arik and replied, “I am Master of the Clan, but the Captain is master of his ship. No man has right to... get her underway but you.”
Arik accepted the answer with a nod. “Helm, by planet: one-zero-nine by zero-zero-two. Best speed.”
Taviksaad, her sun, the orbital dock and the specs of other ships all span around the cupola until the sun was directly behind the captain's chair, then the planet and other near objects began to fall away. There was barely a tremble in the ship itself as her engines cycled up to accelerate her out towards the system's edge. “We are away!” Arik announced with a proud smile as he examined the faces of his three youngest guests.
Hafn gave the captain a nervous smile. “I thought it'd be... more dramatic.”
“I know exactly how you feel.” the captain replied, taking a moment to brush down a stray clump of his mane. “But in the void we cherish boredom; excitement can be fatal.”

The journey through the stars was unremarkable, at least for everyone except Skal. Though he was only ever a hanger-on, he seemed overjoyed at being able to tour the ship and learn of its inner workings, both mechanical and procedural. He questioned the Tavik Clan crew whenever he had the chance, probing for more information on their ships. Kelsee was his opposite; the green-scaled lizard girl suffered frequent bouts of anxiety, needing constant support to help her settle.
Four days of flight saw the ship out in the depths of space. The system's star was now so distant it was almost indistinguishable from any other light in the void. The five had been invited to the bridge once more. “Master Hafn, perhaps you would enjoy some first hand experience?” captain Arik asked.
From the corner of his eye, Hafn saw Skal's giddiness. “I think we'd both enjoy that, if there's something for Skal to do as well?”
Arik considered this for a moment, studying the stations. “Perhaps your companion could man the emergency station? Come boy, sit there.”
Skal darted over the indicated chair. The male next to him helped the boy fasten a headset into place and pointed to some of the controls. “This button is for broadcasting, so don't press it! These dials let us fine-tune between different frequencies, but you can see on the little card here what it should be tuned to. All ships should be using one of those channels.”
“Are we on a rescue mission or something?” Skal asked excitedly.
“No, but we should always be listening for ships in distress. Pirates and smugglers sometimes use emergency channels as well, so keep your ears open.”
“Master Hafn, you may have my chair,” Arik added, and began patiently walking Hafn through the procedures for approaching, hailing and arranging docking permissions with the station ahead of them.
Skal tuned all of that out. Through his headset he could hear the song of the stars; the hissing, popping and crackling of cosmic background noise generated by solar flares and supernovae, by the comings and goings of innumerable ships and the radiating outputs of all manner of engines, signal devices and other emitters. He idly flicked through the frequencies, listening to how the pitch and tone changed. Only one channel had anything resembling a clear signal, and that was the calibration frequency: the station ahead let out a steady metronome of long beeps. He queried that, and listened with an eager smile how the communications officer explained signal calibration procedures and other related protocols, at least until he was interrupted by the captain and had to return to his other duties.
Listening to the beeps a moment longer, Skal cranked the dial again and the universe wailed. Then his ears prickled at a form of order in the noise. The boy's heart jumped into his throat, and despite prior instructions his paw darted for the broadcast button. “Is someone there?” he asked the microphone in front of him.
“Hey! I told you not to touch that!” the officer next to him snapped, smacking the boy's paw away from the dials.
“B-but I thought I heard a voice!”
The announcement made all heads turn towards him. The captain abandoned his liege-lord and strode over as the communications officer took Skal's headset and ushered him out of the seat. “Is there a signal, or is the boy causing mischief?”
“Auto-screener didn't flag anything, but the boy's not on a standard channel. Give me a moment,” the Kyyreni pushed some keys and listened intently. Then he repeated the process twice more before offering the headset to Arik. “Captain, there might be something there. It's weak, but it's orderly.”
Arik only listened once. “Run a speech recognition.”
“Just did, sir. It's borderline.”
The captain huffed at the answer. “Where's it coming from?”
“It is... out of system, somewhere off our forward quarter.”
“Then we can't ignore it,” Arik turned to Hafn with an apologetic look. “Forgive me, Master, but I need my chair back. All hands, alert status! Possible ship in distress!”
The communications officer immediately began broadcasting, “Unidentified vessel this is the [i]Three-Ways[/i]: if you are in distress please activate emergency location beacons. We are inbound to your location. Please acknowledge receipt of this message, over!”

Ukekke lay drifting on the bridge, lulled into a restless sleep by the rasping sounds coming from the ship's speaker system, only to be awoken by the gentle impact of his head against the wall. Realising he was not alone, the captain craned his stiff, aching neck toward the chief engineer. “Yes?” he asked in a parched voice.
“You aren't eating. Or drinking.”
“Doesn't seem much point to either.” Ukekke replied.
“You wanted to give our people hope. The captain dying of thirst won't do that.”
Reluctantly, Ukekke accepted a few beads of water. They tasted oily. “How are you, old friend?”
“I... I find it hard to be with my family. One day I will have to tell them the truth, but I can't... not yet.”
With a grunt, Ukekke pushed himself off the wall in the direction of the communications station. The move made his wrists and elbows throb. The other Nightsider followed, glancing about the age-worn station as if seeing it for the first time. “I probably should have told you that we've done no maintenance on the transmitter system in... well, in my lifetime.”
“I know. But I pretended otherwise.”
The engineer opened his maw to speak again when the sounds changed. He blinked, slowly, and glanced up at the inverted form of Captain Ukekke, who whispered, “I thought I heard a voice just then.”
“So did I!”
Ukekke fumbled at the controls to set the machine to broadcast mode. “This is Captain Ukekke of the [i]Oaths to Destiny[/i]! If you are receiving this message, please respond! Urgent! We require immediate aid!”
Both men listened, panting hard from the shock of adrenalin that surged through their bodies. Minutes passed, and then voices came again, badly distorted but discernible as coherent words: “[i]Unidentifeyed vesel this iz the [/i]Three-Ways[i]: if yoo ar in distres plees aktivate emergensee lokashon beekons. We ar inbownd to yor lokashon. Pleed aknoleg reseet ov this messaj, ova![/i]”
The pair howled in response to the signal, driven to madness by the impossibility of it. Their shouts and whoops drew other crew to the bridge, but neither men could coherently explain what they had experienced for several minutes. “A ship!” Ukekke finally managed. “There's another ship out there! And she's close by! No, wait! I need to transmit again!”
He fumbled to the station, “[i]Three-Ways[/i], This is [i]Oaths to Destiny[/i], we are receiving! We have-” he paused, turning a mad-eyed look to the chief engineer. “They wanted a location beacon! Go, find one! Or make one! Quickly!”
“On it!” the black-furred male replied, flinging himself down the access way as fast as he could.
“-We will activate a beacon as soon as we are able! Gods grant you swiftness, [i]Three-Ways![/i]”

“Captain Arik, I think we have them!”
All eyes were on the forward screens as the ship burned hard into the void. The communications officer glanced over his shoulder, “We're getting bursts of traffic through the emergency channel, and a steady signal beacon on a second frequency. Nothing on main comms though; she could be in serious trouble. The crew are... well, they have one bizarre dialect and getting information out of them is like pulling new teeth!”
“That's got to be them,” the captain noted, pointing to a secondary monitor that showed a clear return. “It's a bloody huge vessel but I don't recognise the pattern.”
“How did they get this far out in the void?” Eskal asked. “Is it a jump drive failure?”
“Could be,” Arik agreed. “A jump should have put them closer in-system, but every port has stories of ships that had drive failures getting stuck out in nowhere.”
“Who brought those stories back, I wonder?” Eskal asked to no-one in particular.
The ship came into visual range, and its lines unblurred on the screens confused murmurs began to spread though those knowledgeable about vessels. It was Skal who voiced the impossible idea; “It's an Arkship!”
“It can't be an Ark,” the captain countered, though there was no certainty in his tone. “No-one's built one in four hundred years!”
Eskal's lips moved as he tried to do the mental calculations. “Four hundred years... depending on how fast they go... we're about the right distance from Urokon. The real question is how a ship that old could still be running?”
“Time dilation!” Skal squeaked, drawing focus once more. “They had Folding Engines! They bent space to go faster than regular engines allowed, right? So if they could bend space to go really, really fast, then four hundred years for us would be a lot less for them!”
“Boy's not wrong,” Arik agreed. “Gods, if this is an Arkship...”
The emergency channel warbled again, with the oddly-toned voices coming through once more. “[i]Ukekke to [/i]Three-Ways[i], we hav yoo I think! We ar seeing a vesel klosing fast![/i]”
Arik took the channel, speaking slowly and clearly. “Captain Ukekke, this is Captain Arik. If you have a docking hatch please indicate its position. External lights, or... get someone to shine a torch through the door! We need to know where we can dock!”
“Skal, come here!” Eskal hissed suddenly, beckoning their group together. “Listen to me, all of you!  If this truly is an Arkship then we need to be extremely careful!”
“Why?” Kadan asked, suspicious of the other adult's paranoia. “What could they possibly have that is dangerous to us?”
“They exist!” Eskal replied. “The Arks have a quasi-mythic status for many, especially the likes of the Free Armada! The technology may be irrelevant, but the symbolic value of a nation possessing a genuine Ark, and the loyalty of her crew... that will send waves through all Kyyreni space! Some would go to war to control this prize!”
“Or destroy it?” Kadan's query was met with a nod. He turned to the captain and barked orders of his own. “Captain Arik, can you or the Tavik Clan do anything to keep this discovery quiet?”
The captain seemed puzzled by the question. “We can try,” he replied.
“Then do it! The last thing we need is some psychopathic Raiders diving into system trying to capture the Ark or her crew!”
A look of pure horror crossed the captain's muzzle, seemingly bleaching the fur on his features. “Get an encoded message to all Clan ships: Tell them we have an urgent recovery in progress, high value asset, critical vulnerability! Lock down all mention and restrict all system traffic! Second House Vaskal into this as well; we're going to need to figure out a way to get this ship to a safe anchorage as soon as possible!”
As confirmations rang out, Arik turned back to his guests. “Now there's another matter: who do we include in the welcoming party?”

Inch by inch, the [i]Three-Ways[/i] drifted towards the blinking lights of the Arkship's docking arm. The ancient vessel had two sets of four limbs jutting out at ninety-degree angles from one another, one set towards the nose of the craft and another set between two of the habitation rings; said rings were large, rotating sections that provided spin-gravity for the occupants. It was such an archaic concept that it took several aboard a few puzzled moments to realise the purpose. Beyond the habitation rings were agriponic cylinders with glass bulbs on the top to catch and funnel any available light down to the crops within. The domes were currently dark, likely blocked with reflective foil to improve efficiency of whatever artificial lights the ship possessed.
The modern vessel was utterly dwarfed by her ancient ancestor. [i]Oaths to Destiny[/i] was a spindly design, mostly hollow gaps between her long struts, but even so she was a spectacular work of engineering; only the largest bulk haulers rivalled her for length, and many of those still lacked her raw mass. It was humbling for all aboard to watch her docking arm inch closer, and closer, and all the while be made to feel small and insignificant.
The pressure curtains found their mark and clamped in place. Arik's crew were taking no chances, with space-walking technicians triple-checking the seals from the outside to verify the computer readouts coming to the waiting crew. Only when everyone gave the all-clear was the tunnel pressurised, and all checks repeated again for absolute certainty.
“Please remember that these people have been in space for a long, long time,” Eskal said quietly. “Their culture and customs are likely different to our own. Be exceptionally careful about what you say to them. A careless word might upend some deeply held conviction they possess.”
Arik let out a sharp huff, sweat matting his fur and beading on the long strands of his mane despite the coolness of the corridor. His head snapped sharply towards Eskal as the air-lock began its final cycle. “Wait, are you sure it's wise to have the girl here?”
Eskal's face blanched. “Shit!” he hissed, but there was no time to banish Kelsee. The hatch opened to reveal a dark passage beyond. Kyyreni floating in its shadows.
The stench that struck the waiting delegation was near physical; a rancid gust of fetid air bore the noxious funk of caked-in sweat and filth that made their eyes water. It rose from the skeletal, stunted clumps of half-dead skin and fur that drifted weightlessly toward them. Skal only realised the black bodies were still alive when a pair of sunken eyes flickered toward him.
Without a word, Arik strode forward into the airlock. Kadan followed, realising the captain's intention; both Dawnsiders met the wasted Nightsiders at the threshold of their ship's airlock and reached for them, taking hold of their emaciated limbs and easing them into the gravity field one by one.
“They smell like they've been rolling in shit!” Hafn whined softly to Skal, who was trying hard not to look repulsed by the Arkship's occupants.
The Tavik Clan's doctor pushed past, meeting the first Nightsider as he was carried into the ship proper. “Can you understand me, sir? Can you tell me your name?”
“Yes. Iam Kaptane Ukekke. How... how do yoo stand on the dek?”
“We can explain all of that in good time, captain,” the surgeon continued patiently. “Are all your crew in similar condition to you?”
“Sum... ar wors,” he answered. His voice was like scrunching sandpaper.
“Captain, we need to get all of these people to medical immediately. Get the word out – we need food, water, sanitation and medicines, all that can be mustered! Captain Ukekke, how many are aboard?”
“For kowns.”
“About four and a half thousand,” Eskal translated. Nobody questioned how he knew that.
“I'll get the word out,” Arik confirmed. “Rest assured, Captain Ukekke, we will do all we can for your people.”

There was no ceremony, nor formal greeting. Instead, what followed was an immediate relief operation. The three rejuves hid in their cramped bunk room for a time, under orders to stay out of everyone's way and coming out only at meal time. The ship's mess had been converted into a triage station where more near-starved Nightsiders were being treated. They ended up receiving rations from the officer's galley and eating out of sight.
“They suddenly don't think I'm important now there's a real crisis going on,” Hafn mumbled over the uninspiring meal.
Skal's eyes were fixed firmly on the door. “I wish we could talk to them.”
While none of the rejuves wished to cause trouble, their young minds could only suffer being imprisoned for so long. Hafn volunteered to take the blame if anyone challenged their roaming, which Skal was glad for, and the three went abroad across the increasingly frantic ship. The smell of disinfectant was far more potent now, which perhaps by subconscious pull drew the three to the medical bay. The lights were dimmed low, with every cot occupied. “Are you the boys from the boarding?” a hoarse voice called as they peered curiously around the door.
Skal took the lead, albeit sheepishly. “Yes sir.”
“Come closer,” he recognised the voice as Captain Ukekke. “Your elders will not answer my questions, and I have many.”
The trio exchanged anxious glances. In the gloom, the Nightsider's eyes narrowed at Kelsee. “What is wrong with him?”
Hafn stepped in front of the girl. “Nothing! She's a Karrian!”
“I don't know what that is.” Ukekke said. Skal noted some of the other Nightsiders were stirring.
Kelsee peered round from behind Hafn. “I'm... an alien. To you, at least. You're the aliens to me.”
“An alien? As in a creature born from another planet?”
“Maybe we should have stayed in our room,” Hafn mumbled.
Reasoning there would be no answer to his first question, Ukekke moved on to his second. “How did you find us? We know of no other ship that came out this far.”
Skal cleared his throat. “We just happened to be nearby when we... when I heard your signal. It was luck, really; the signal was so weak we almost missed it!”
Ukekke's head lolled toward the rejuves. “What is it that you are keeping from us? Your elders are keeping secrets, the one who stood with you especially; he's as safe as creaking metal! What don't they want us to know?”
By silent stares, Skal was voted their spokesman. “I... well... what is it you want to know?”
“How are you here? How did you respond so quickly? How can... how can you have gravity aboard your ship when it is not rotating?”
He knew every Nightsider was listening, even if they weren't all watching. “Our ship is... about four hundred years more advanced than yours.” The boy turned his muzzle to the deck and tried to ignore the urgent, anxious exchanges between the cots.
“Enough, please!” Ukekke's raised tones brought quiet back to the room. “Four hundred years? We know time can flow differently when the ship is folding. But you are here, with many ships I think. How is that possible? No other vessels came this way ahead of us.”
“We made significant advances in faster-than-light technology after you departed. Our ships don't need to fold space like yours to move between the stars. We sort of...” he raises his paws and slowly brought the palms together. “Put the two systems next to each other, and step between them.”
Ukekke seemed to accept this answer, if only because he had no idea how to possibly reply to such claims. “You are of the Dawn. Were you sent to chase us down?”
“Umm...” Skal looked to Hafn and Kelsee, but there was no aid to be found there. “I don't think so. The Homeworld lost track of most of the Arkships. I think about half are accounted for. Nobody thought you could still be out here, heading for distant planets!”
“How then did you know to come to Destiny?” another Nightsider asked.
The two boys looked at each other. Hafn spoke up, “I don't know where 'Destiny' is, but you're on the edge of our system – Taviksaad. We made a colony here about two hundred years ago.”
The quiet that followed lasted much too long. “We were on final approach for Destiny when our engine failed,” Ukekke said. “The star ahead is Destiny's Star. The world of Destiny lies in this system; a lush and verdant world where our ancestors wished to make a new life.”
“There's no-” Hafn began, but Skal jabbed him in the side.
“They must be talking about Taviksaad!” Skal insisted, scowling at his friend in the desperate hope Hafn took the hint. “Sirs, we really don't know much at all about your voyage. There's virtually no record of where any of you were going! I promise you that nobody tried to take your planet off you, or beat you here!”
“Sheer coincidence then?” the Nightsider from before asked.
Ukekke gave a dry snort. “Same as what saved us. Thank you boys. I... have much to think on. Let us rest, please.”

The days passed, and their guests slowly recovered. As before, the youths were kept out of the loop, piecing together the plan through overheard snippets of conversation. The Tavik Clan were amassing vessels around the Arkship, funnelling supplies and personnel back and forth. A plan was clearly in motion to bring the ship into system at a pace far beyond its design permitted, but no more than that could Skal discern.
He lingered around the medical bay as much as he dared to, and when not there the airlocks. One such session of watching Clan crews haul supplies to the Ark was interrupted by none other than Ukekke. “Ah, the boy who visited us in the medical bay,” he said in a warm, cheery tone. Skal noticed how he and the other Nightsiders were gradually adjusting their speech patterns to be more in-keeping with their rescuers. “Why are you here?”
“I keep hoping I'll get to see inside the ship,” Skal confessed.
The captain glanced to the Clansman beside him. “Is the boy not permitted to leave?”
“We don't want them getting in the way,” the Dawnsider replied.
Ukekke shook his head. “The ship was built to have children aboard. He will not be any trouble. I will vouch for the boy if that will make things easier.”
Skal let out a giddy little yelp as Ukekke offered a paw for him to take. The Nightsider was small compared the Tavik Clan crew, as were all those aboard the Arkship, but several days of care had put a little life back into the black-furred Kyyreni. “I am told the air aboard our ship was... 'rancid'. I hope it is better now.”
A cheeky grin spread over Skal's blond muzzle. “It was a little ripe when the airlock opened.”
Ukekke accepted the criticism with a nod. “Bathing was a luxury we could not afford. Water for washing was better used to water crops, or quench our thirst.”
The pair waited for a break in the foot traffic before walking to the umbilical connector. Hazard strips had been put in place warning of the gravity shift, but it still caught Skal by surprise when he took a bold stride forward and suddenly found the floor no-longer pulled him down. Ukekke laughed at the boy's tumble, and how Skal's attempt to balance just put him in a spin. “Oh you poor lad! Nine years old and lacking such a basic skill?”
“I'm only six!” Skal protested. “Help me!”
Ukekke pushed him forward, and then caught his ankle as he turned. “Stop flailing! There, you're stable! Now push and pull along. Like this.” The Nightsider weaved past the boy, expertly gliding through the confined space with a grace and poise his tottering walk had utterly lacked. “Come along!” he added with a beckoning paw.
After several false starts, Skal began making progress. The Arkship's captain grinned at the boy's fumbling progress. “I'm curious why you wished to see inside my vessel when yours is so much more wondrous?”
“This... this is history!” Skal explained, rolling himself over accidentally as he tried to take in the whole vessel with a sweeping gesture. “Stories of the Arkships have been told since... since forever! Explorers and adventurers have spent their entire lives trying to find the lost ones!”
The Nightsider's smile stiffened a little, though Skal failed to notice. “What do you know of their fates? What happened to our sister ships?”
Skal paused at a junction, clinging to a handle worn smooth by centuries of paws. “Well... everyone knows about [i]Ryyksaad Bound[/i], obviously.”
“Not everyone,” Ukekke corrected. “But I take it they reached their destination safely?”
“Oh yeah! Ryyksaad is one of the oldest colony worlds!”
“What of the others? Do you happen to know what became of the [i]Pilgrim of the Burning God[/i], or the [i]Celestial Wayfinder[/i]?” Ukekke pressed as the pair steered past an access chute where Clan and Arkship crews were trying to feed thick, black cables down.
“I don't know either of those, sorry. But I remember years ago reading a book at the library about an expedition to find the [i]Sorrowfree[/i]. They made it to their destination and set up a thriving colony!”
“How many years ago was this?”
Skal paused, realising the reason for the question. “Oh... right... I guess there really is a lot of things we need to catch you up on!”
“Are you saying that children are born able to read and write?” the question was asked in a jovial tone, but Skal had a hunch the humour was padding.
After a few moments thought, he chose to take the plunge. “There are other aliens out there besides Karrians. Some of them have amazing technologies the likes of which you wouldn't believe. A few years ago we got some of that technology and tried to reverse engineer it. It's called 'rejuvenation'. It can turn people back into children.”
“Perhaps our language has drifted more than I thought...”
“No, I don't think it has,” Skal insisted. “I was seventeen just over a year ago. I... made a lot of bad choices. Messed up my life. I got rejuvenated back to five and given to Kadan to fix me, put my life back the way it should be.”
“You are all immortals?” Ukekke whispered in awe.
The penitatas shook his head. “No! Not all of us! Not yet at least. We've only had this technology for a little while, so none of the grown-ups have ever been rejuvenated. Except Eskal, but that's... complicated.”
“Yes. I suspect much of the world will be complicated now.” Ukekke halted himself at another junction. Skal required a guiding paw to arrest his own drift. “We will go to the bridge. It is just through the hatch directly ahead.”
“The bridge?” Skal's whispered tone invoked a religious reverence that drew a smile from the Nightsider captain. He was ushered forwards, the pair coasting through a gap in traffic and weaving through stockpiled equipment to the cool, dim chamber at the nose of the vessel. It was utterly unlike any bridge Skal had ever seen or heard of; instrumentation lined every surface, placed at mad angles that had crew sat on the walls or ceiling. He had to remind himself that on a weightless vessel there was no difference between a floor, wall, or ceiling – this truly was a ship of another age!
Ukekke brushed a paw across the thin, flaking padding of a chair towards the front of the bridge. “This is where I sat and listened to the stars. This is where I heard your voice. This is where our destinies became intertwined. Now, I think I shall sit here so that you may speak to me again, and this time I hope you will be willing to say more of what your elders wish to hide.”
The captain's final words knotted Skal's stomach. “I'll try,” he answered with a shake in his voice.
“Thank you.” The captain settled into the chair's time-worn groove. “You said you can bring space together, and two hundred years ago you settled Destiny. Taviksaad, you call it?”
“Yes, captain. That's right.”
“Your friend, the child our saviours pay respect to, he was going to say something when we spoke in the medical bay. It was something you didn't want him to say. You and I are bound by fate, Skal. There can be no secrets between us. I want to know your secret, even if it is terrible to know.”
Skal squirmed under the piercing gaze of the Nightsider. “I was afraid Hafn might tell you about Taviksaad. About how it was when we first discovered it.”
Ukekke placed a finger over his lips to signal Skal be silent. His eyes clenched shut, a visible tremble running through his body. At last he whispered, “Destiny is no green paradise.”
“No, captain. It had life when we came here, but the air was too thin to breathe. We've spent hundreds of years changing its environment... to... to...” Skal trailed off as the captain began to shake, his breathing ragged and rasping. The gaunt Kyyreni buried his face in his paws and sobbed in silence, leaving Skal to hover awkwardly beside him.
“Our destiny... was not to create an Eden. Our destiny was to die in the void.”
Skal flapped his way haphazardly toward the captain's chair, grabbing it for purchase and pulling himself closer. “I'm sorry. You did ask.”
“Yes I did. Thank you for having the decency to be truthful to me.” A single dry laugh followed. “How ironic that I demand honesty from you when I have lied to my crew for years about the hopelessness of our mission! What becomes of us now, Skal? Will we be... like you? We have made mistakes, wasted our lives, wasted the lives of entire generations on a pointless voyage to nowhere! Are we to be remade as children in your image?” the captain's words took on a mad fury that made Skal kick away in shock. Again, Ukekke hid his face and growled out his frustration. “Forgive me, Skal. This has all been extremely difficult.”
The boy carefully worked his way back towards the communications station. “You know, before we met, Eskal told me I needed to be careful around you. He acted like your being here could change the fate of our entire species.”
“Unlikely. We are clearly so primitive compared to you.”
Turning, Skal looked forward out of the scratched, dust-scoured viewing port on the bridge's nose. “There's a group of people I know are going to want to meet you. We call them 'The Free Armada'. They're a lot like you in a way; people who decided they didn't want to live under the rule of Urokon and ran off into the void. The only difference is they had Jump Drives so they've stuck around. They're friends of Taviksaad, and every other world that wants to be independent from Urokon. See, after you left the home nations all got scared other people might flee and tried to crack down. For a time they ruled every planet and moon and orbital in known space, but now that empire's fallen apart. They still control the inner colonies like Ryyksaad, but worlds like ours? We're free. We're one of the Independent Colonies. We fought a war for our freedom, and whenever another world wants to break free of Urokon the Independents send soldiers and the Armada sends ships, and we almost always win. We've gotten so good at winning that now Urokon just gives up half the time and lets planets go without a fight.”
“You have brought war to the stars as our ancestors knew you would.” Ukekke answered in a cold, fatalistic tone.
“That's not what I meant. We believe in being free of Urokon just like you do. And... and you were the first. We all still tell stories of you, the Voidsiders, the ships that dared go into the unknown. If you hadn't gone looking for Destiny, none of the nations of Urokon would have funded the development of the Jump Drive. The Tavik Clan would never have come all the way out here. We'd have never met aliens like the Chaldakri, who had wonders like we'd never seen – goods and technology so amazing that the First Empire bought the loyalty of the Clan and had them settle our world of Taviksaad, and who paid for it to be terraformed. If you hadn't come out here, your Destiny would be a lifeless rock in space. Now it's... it's not. We're not finished, but we've come a long way – there's lakes and farms and grass and... and it rains all the time! And people brought plants and animals and all kinds of things! We built the biggest colony dome in history! Hundreds of thousands of people still live inside it! And... there's a piece of Urokon there as well. A piece of iron, pure iron, buried under a monument where we first set foot on Taviksaad. We did that so we'd never forget where we came from, so we'd always be a part of the homeworld. We did that because of you.”
With a trembling claw, Ukekke wiped a tear from his eye. “Is it beautiful, your Taviksaad? Our Destiny?”
“It's the most beautiful world I've ever seen.” Skal replied.
“And can we stand upon its surface? Breathe its air? See this rain with our own eyes?”
The boy grinned. “The air outside is breathable now, yes. And you can stand in the rain if you want, but the mud gets everywhere and it's a pain to wash out your fur!”
Ukekke began to laugh. “I don't know what 'mud' is! Is it wet dirt?”
“Yeah, wet dirt!”
The pair were interrupted by an inadvertent clang on the hatch. One of the Tavik Clan crew had lost control and spun into it. Thoroughly embarrassed, he tried and failed to straighten his clothes before addressing Ukekke. “Captain. We've secured your ship as best we can. With your permission, we'd like to commence towing.”
Ukekke turned his eyes to the viewport. Though it was surely impossible to make out which of the stars ahead was the system's own, he managed to fix his gaze firmly on Taviksaad. “If the chief engineer is satisfied it is safe to do so, you have my blessing to begin.”
A shiver ran through the Arkship. The stars on the very edge of the viewing port slipped out of view, while others appeared in the capsule-shaped windows running between the workstations. Looking back along the ship through the viewing bulbs, Skal could see the subtle engine glow from Tavik Clan vessels tethered to the [i]Oaths to Destiny[/i].
“Thus begins a new age.” Ukekke intoned, paws clasped as if in solemn prayer, eyes fixed unflinchingly upon their destination. Skal sat with him, watching the stars in silence for almost an hour, until a frustrated and impatient Kadan finally tracked him down and ordered him back to their cabin.