9. Nightmares Revelation

Gaelbhan fitfully attempted to sleep, sometimes the lights appearing in the gel causing her to wake, other times the sound of . . . she hadn't wanted to say it, but light itself seemed to make sound here, in the Temple of Unity. She gave up on sleeping, and willed the gel to show her the space around her ship. The Temple itself rotated on its axis, but from what source or reason she could not determine. Just as her own Blackbird was, the two rifters were tethered to the Foundation Stone. She wondered if her sisters were sleeping.

She felt like walking. If she wished, she could have disengaged from the pod gel and walked through the maintenance corridors of the Blackbird, but instead she willed the vessel to life. She adjusted herself in the gel pack, loosing the tether. The rotation easily spun her free, and she drifted for several minutes out past the barrier of the Temple into deeper space before lighting the engines.

She left an imprint in the gel of her sisters’ ships, an imprint that would play once they woke and accepted her message. Sleep hadn’t been easy tonight, the worlds of the Matari in a desperate clinch to be a fully-fledged Republic as well as stave off the slavers, both within and without. As the Dean of the Republic Military School Extension, she had tutored young Matari on civic duty and Matari languages, but she also taught them the Matari common language. It hurt her ears to hear the students speaking common Matari with an Amarrian accent.

As she attempted to sleep, the day she found her sister came to mind. That memory ended any hope of rest. Only the visage of the Amarr slaver standing in front of her remained as the Blackbird became an engine of travel. The Amarr race had murdered and enslaved and tortured and still, despite these atrocities, claimed it was all in an effort to enlighten the heathen. The gel reacted to her anger, vibrating. Her thoughts became as mechanical as the ship’s engines, navigating the ship through her neural interface. The machine responded and headed for the Amarr home worlds. Gate after gate thrust her ship farther from her sisters and closer to the Throne, and into Amarr Prime. Her conscious mind navigated the interface to the Virtue of Unity, then steadily slipped into the dream state pilots called ‘Voices of Mind.’ She dreamed of the old Matari.

In her dream, an old Matari was already on one knee, being beaten by the walking stick of the Amarr. The street was crowded, but no one paid attention to the slave or the vicious beating. The Matari looked right at her. She did not remember that ever happening in this dream, and she fought for breath as the Matari smiled. His hand reached upward and stopped the Amarr's stick, but he continued to smile at her. She felt the stick in her hand now, and it was she who was on one knee. The old Matari was standing back in the crowd that was gathering, having switched places with her, seeming so small and weak.

She smiled, and felt the flames begin to burn her flesh as the Amarr crowds dowsed her in lamp oil, setting the fire alight. She smiled at the old Matari, giving him comfort despite the horror on his face. She remembered that feeling, and she stood. She did not cry as her body became a blazing light for all the Amarr to see.

In reality, she had witnessed this man’s death when she was ten on the streets of Sehmy, on a food gathering trip with her mother for their owner. She had watched as the man was beaten and then burned. A day later, she had taken a knife and murdered her own owner. The chime indicated the Virtue of Unity had settled into a far orbit of the Emperor Family station in Amarr, and Gaelbhan woke from the dream as the chime indicated a threat. The gel reacted immediately, and automatically provided a HUD. Several pilots of PIE were undocking from the the station, her own Blackbird moving closer. She laughed, for she had wanted to fight, and her mind and body and her dreams had willed the Blackbird to the place where she could do just that.

For her, the path forward was clear. There was only the quick decision to fight, and then die. Seven ships had undocked now or had warped on, several battleships and interceptors and frigates. All were locking onto the Virtue of Unity. The old Matari faded in and out of her consciousness, smiling and looking at her as he himself was burned in the combined pool of lamp oil and Amarr enlightenment.

A brave pilot of PIE hurdled toward her in his punisher, creating an opportunity for the remaining pilots to warp to him, closing the distance. The Blackbird turned slowly toward the first attacker, but the weapons fire from the battleships tore into the Blackbirds fragile hull – the same as had that Amarrian owner’s wrath had rained down on the slave's head. The HUD of space and ships disappeared, replaced by the image of the old Matari. He now stood in the street, a street filled with nameless, faceless Amarr that cluttered her conscious with laughter.

The old Matari turned to her now, and she could still see him smiling. She could see his face clearly despite the flames, realized that the Destiny Mark on his face was a pale eye. The pale eye of the Degraded . . . the Cast-off.

As the Blackbird buckled and became debris, Gaelbhan touched the NeoCom with her mind. The neural interface responded by activating the ejection system. The path forward was clear. There was only the quick decision to fight, and then die if it should be so. There was no shame in not having killed an Amarr this evening, even if it was a dog's death that awaited her.

The old Matari had shown himself to her, his mark of degradation. That was worth the price of a dozen Blackbirds.

She smiled back at him as he burned. "Yes, brother, I understand now."

The Blackbird exploded, and continuous fire fell down on her. As the debris flew outward, only a bubble-like void spoke of the Blackbird's previous existence. The gel became a movement of dream and reality, working to provide her mind with the information needed to safely evacuate her from the system and yet also respond to her dream.

She willed the pod to return to Amamake by the most direct route. In her lessons for the young Matari, she taught them the history of the Matari peoples. In one of those, the Voluval and what happened to the Degraded was of importance to her youngest students – in recorded history, the Degraded and the Paratwa often concurrently emerged en masse, of this she knew, and she knew that perhaps today the sands of Amamake were being walked by this other type of Cast-off.

A whole army of Matari whose brothers and sisters had shunned them, and now would become a force unlike any since the pre-Republic days.

**

Zayard moved as fast as he could, but the sandstorm that whipped him from the front was relentless. Give in, the wind demanded, and let me return your bones to the land of your ancestors. He ran, stumbled, and ran some more until he finally entered the settlement. Both the Amarr and the Ammatar would be sending more investigators to learn why so many of their brethren had died on this backwards, sand-ridden planet. He didn't want to be here when they arrived.

He didn't notice that a gang of people surrounded his Bellicose until he bumped into one.

Stepping back, ready with this pistol, he saw them standing as sure as stones in the malinite outcropping, unmoving. Their clothing did not flutter even in the strong wind, while he himself struggled with his footing and his hat. He could make out at least twenty, but beyond in the sandstorm around his Bellicose, he could imagine a hundred of them as motionless, silent ghosts. Cast-off?

"Hello Zayard, of Amamake." The closest one seemed to speak, but with the wind and the evenness of the voice, they might all have been speaking as one voice for all he could tell.

"What do you want?" He stepped closer, peering into the face of the one he had bumped.

They were dressed for the desert, simple enough to see, and their faces were covered with sand masks. Only a narrow slit opening, shielded, provided a way to see out. The one he stared at reached up and drew the facemask away. Zayard gasped and stepped back.

A pale eye mark crossed her right cheek. The others drew off their sand masks, and he could see similar degradation marks on some of the closest of these people.

The Degraded.

"We need your assistance, Zarard of Amamake. We need you to stay planet side."

cont...