The next few days passed with a blur. Joseph didn't even notice the presence of others in the guild. Every morning, he would get up and head to the arena. Fortunately, Grobak said it was a dry season. Not too many matches had been set up.
“By the gods, though!” the ogre laughed cheerfully, “If I could get you into a match, you'd make it to the top, easy as can be! What do you say to that?”
Joseph had strongly considered that, but Becenti had shook his head.
“Mr. Zheng here is a guildmember, not a prize fighter,” he said to Grobak, “Please, drop the subject.”
“Oh, very well,” Grobak chuckled, “But, Joseph, my boy, if you change your mind...”
He gave him a conspiratorial wink.
He wasn't wrong about Joseph's abilities, either – he was getting better and better at controlling his powers each day. It had gotten to the point where he didn't need to dwell on his emotions to start his soul's circuit throughout his body. It was becoming like flexing a muscle to him – he'd start thinking on it, and his soul would begin its movement up and down his limbs, building up in power until part of it shunted out of his body. Each time he did it left him exhausted, however, as though he had just gone on a five mile run. But as his body built up over the days, that five mile run became four miles, then three, until it was down to one or two, depending on how he was feeling when he performed the full circuit.
Becenti nodded as Joseph summoned his soul. The great, electrical form crackled in the air, smelling strongly of ozone.
“Keep holding it,” he commanded, “Let's see how well you can control it.”
“I barely can,” Joseph replied, “It's hard to see out of four eyes.”
“Then shut the eagle's, then,” Becenti said. He had brought with him three soccer balls. Joseph flexed his soul, felt it move as though it were any other part of his body. He could control it with some effort, squeezing the eagle's eyes shut. Relief washed over his mind as the overload of information was cut off.
“See if you can't swat the ball,” Becenti said, tossing it into the air. It spun high above them, just at the level of the soul's head. Joseph concentrated, feeling the arms and claws of the soul move and shift. He felt sluggish – without the soul's eyes to guide its movements, he felt blind, as though his aim was off. The eagle swiped – missing the ball as it slipped between two of its talons. A moment later, the form collapsed, veering back into Joseph's body.
“A fair attempt,” Becenti said.
“Not... very good,” Joseph said, falling to his knees. He coughed a bit, his breath tasting vaguely of battery acid. He wasn't liking that he was getting used to it, either.
“You can't see what you're doing, by the looks of it,” Becenti reasoned.
“Yeah,” Joseph pulled himself back up, “I can't use the eagle eyes, though. The sight, it's too... it's too much?”
“That makes sense,” Becent nodded, “A bird of prey's vision is much better than a human's. Your brain is trying to process the fact that its sight has suddenly improved tremendously.”
“Any way to help it out?” Joseph asked.
“It will take time. Let us concentrate on fixing your vision. Summon your soul again.”
Joseph complied, letting the circuit run its course. The eagle form flared to life, once more connected to his back, towering and glaring at the world.
“Close your eyes,” Becenti ordered, “No, your other eyes.”
“My... human eyes?”
“Yes.”
Joseph did so, squeezing his eyes shut. The eagle form's eyes took over, and Joseph could see the world around him. The dusty yellows of the arena became more intense, more rich and full. He could see every crease on Becenti's suit, every line on his weathered face. High above, a couple of seagulls flitted about. He could see individual feathers on each gull’s wings blowing in the wind. Joseph's brain started throbbing.
“I don't think-”
“Concentrate on looking at just one thing at a time,” Becenti said.
“A-alright.”
He did so, the eagle's eyes narrowing down at Becenti's forehead. It was warm out, and Becenti had been wearing his nice suit all day, though it had become dusted and dirty due to being in the arena for hours. He could see droplets of sweat on Becenti's brow, which he wiped away with the back of a calloused hand. Slowly, the pain in Joseph's head disappeared.
“Your mind is getting used to it,” Becenti said, “Breathe. Keep the circuit going. Shall I throw a ball?”
Joseph mulled the question over.
“Yeah, I'm ready.”
Becenti threw the ball into the air, and as it began spinning, Joseph's mind reeled. The details on it were too much to bear, an explosion of color and motion, writhing in the air like a mirage. He closed the eagle's eyes, making a backhanded swipe. He felt something hit the eagle's claws, but before he could react anymore the soul collapsed once more.
When Joseph opened his eyes again, the ball lay on the ground, cut cleanly in two. Becenti had rolled to the side, getting up and dusting himself off.
“I didn't just nearly cut you in half, did I?” Joseph asked.
“You very nearly did,” Becenti replied, “Please, Mr. Zheng, if we are to get anywhere, actually know what you're aiming at.”
“Sorry, ball distracted me.”
“More practice, then,” Becenti picked up another soccer ball. He balanced it on one finger and began spinning it, “Again.”
Joseph complied, closing his human eyes and manifesting his soul, which looked down at the ball. The same, familiar sensation overtook him. The motion was too much...
“We will do this for ten minutes,” Becenti said, “Continue staring at the ball in that time.”
“Alright,” Joseph muttered.
The ball continued spinning. Occasionally Becenti would give it a tap, continuing its rotation. Joseph stared at it, letting the motion burn itself into his mind. He could feel his body adjusting to the new eyes. Out of the corner of the eagle's – his – vision, he could see the goblins cleaning up a few of the seats with brooms. The seagulls continued their loop around the sky overhead. One of them must have spotted prey; it had begun to dive down towards the world below...
“I'm throwing it now,” Becenti announced, “Now!”
He tossed the ball into the air. Joseph was ready now, his eyes on the whirling object. The talons came up, raking through the air, the palm of the eagle's hand slapping the ball, which went flying, slamming into the arena wall.
Joseph smiled at Becenti. Becenti nodded.
“Not bad,” he said, “Take a moment to rest. Then we will try again.”
***
It was only after a week had passed that Becenti, at the end of one of their training sessions, talked about something that didn't have to do with Joseph’s powers.
“A job has come up,” Becenti said, “One I want to oversee personally.”
“What kind of job?” Joseph asked, taking a swig from his water bottle.
“It shouldn't be anything too exciting,” Becenti replied, “I'm going to the High Federation's capital world to talk to a few contacts of mine. Would you like to come along?”
Joseph spat out his drink, “I'm sorry, what?”
“The... capital of the High Federation,” Becenti repeated, “Is there a problem, Mr. Zheng?”
“No, no,” Joseph said, “But the High Federation is, like, super advanced, right? They rule over an entire galaxy?”
“Indeed. The Silver Eye Galaxy, one of the oldest planes in existence,” Becenti said, “Their capital, Everlasting Truth, has been occupied, in some shape or form, for over ten thousand years.”
“So, what you're saying is: they have spaceships.”
“Yes.”
“I'm in.”
Becenti smiled at that, “Very well. We shall be leaving the day after tomorrow. No training tomorrow. Use that time to rest.”
“Gotcha,” Joseph stretched, “Anyone coming with us?”
“It will just be us two.”
“Right.”
After a few more practices at swiping the ball, they went back to Castle Belenus.
***
“You are going to the High Federation?” Phineas asked.
Joseph was laying down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The Deep One was sitting at his desk, flipping through a video game magazine. Outside, the day was slowly turning into night, from blue, to orange, to just the slightest tinge of black.
“Yeah,” Joseph replied, “You ever been?”
“I have been to the Silver Eye Galaxy a few times in the past,” Phineas gurgled, “Mostly on jobs with the Amber Foundation. A few of the guild are from there.”
“What's it like?”
Phineas thought for a moment, a webbed finger stroking his chin, “Big. Very big. Everything is big there. Big starships, big planets. The High Federation is the largest nation that I am aware of.”
Joseph nodded, “How many planets do they rule over?”
“The High Federation is home to around two billion member states,” Phineas said, “Or at least, somewhere around that number. We must remember, it governs an entire galaxy, and if I remember right, Ichabod estimated there were around 30 billion star systems, and around three billion sapient races, two billion of which were warp capable.”
“That's... a lot.”
“It is a number,” Phineas agreed, “To put this into perspective: a million seconds is around eleven days.”
“Okay, and a billion?”
“Just over 31 years.”
“...Oh.”
Joseph gulped, “That's... that's insane. And they govern the multiverse, too?”
“Those planes close to them,” Phineas said, “They make sure technology isn't smuggled from one plane to another. Other items are fair game, however.”
“And what happens if a plane advances on its own? Enough to, say, be on the same level as the Feds?”
“I am...” Phineas thought, “I am not sure. But such a thing is impossible. The High Federation has been around for thousands and thousands of years. They have lost and re-discovered technologies a hundred times, over and over again.”
The Deep One flipped another page, losing track of the conversation as his eyes widened at some game that was coming out. Joseph shrugged, then took a book out from underneath his bed (A Loser's Guide to the Multiverse) and began reading. His whole body ached. He could feel his electrical soul resting in his belly. Still, it was good to lie down and relax, something he realized he hadn't had the opportunity to do for the last week. Slowly, the evening turned into night. Phineas occasionally let out a gasp of excitement - eyes shining as he stared at the magazine, muttering about his video game characters. Joseph smiled at that. At least nerds existed out here, too.
***
The next day was calm. Most of the guild were out on missions, so Castle Belenus was relatively quiet when Joseph got up in the morning and ate his breakfast. Becenti went out to do business in the town, so there would be no training today. Which was fine – Joseph's body was still aching, as though he had just exercised every muscle in his body. Still, the temptation to continue practicing his metahuman abilities was there, and at one point Joseph found that he had subconsciously started the process of circuiting his soul throughout his body. He forced himself to stop, letting himself settle down. He sat down on one of the benches laid out in the Great Hall, staring at the sword in its center. He felt annoyed – trapped, even. He had spent too much time cooped up here.
“Oh!” he heard a familiar voice say, “Joseph!”
Rosemary ran over to where he was sitting, cloak fluttering behind her like wings.
“Hey, Rosemary,” Joseph said, “Where've you been?” his eyes narrowed a bit, “Where'd you get that cut?”
“Oh, this ol' thing?” she poked at her forehead, which had a thin, red line sliced through its middle, “I was off-plane, on a world known as Nesona. Guy in a bar got mad.”
“Should I see the other guy?” Joseph joked.
“Ha! No, not really,” she suddenly looked serious, “Those guys, they play for keeps. By the time I was done with him, he was unrecognizable.”
Joseph looked at her, appalled.
Then she burst out laughing again, “I'm kidding! By God, you're too gullible. Just a couple o' hits here and there, and we became best friends after.”
Joseph let out a nervous chuckle, “Ha, good job. Good job...”
“So what are you up to, right now? Did Becenti... help you with that metahuman thing?”
“Yeah,” Joseph said, “Been really helping. I'm getting the hang of it.”
He relayed to her all of his training over the past week. Rosemary's eyes widened as he spoke, a look of pure awe on her face.
“I didn't know,” she said, “Wow, that's some crazy stuff.”
“How much do you know about metahumans?” Joseph asked.
“I know Becenti's one. I met another metahuman while on a job in Omatra, she had the ability to store anything in her body. Had pockets all over her skin, it was kinda gross...”
“Yeah, metahumans seem to be weird,” Joseph said, “Becenti's given me a couple of books. One of them had the power to wink with both eyes at the same time.”
“That's... that's just blinking.”
“That's what I said! But he was insistent,” Joseph rolled his eyes, “Anyways, it runs the whole gamut. Some metas had the power to just do something simple – the power to re-arrange their fingerprints. Others could lift up whole buildings, but only if they were just using a single finger. Every one was different.”
“Weird,” Rosemary agreed, “So, are you training for today?”
“Nah,” Joseph stretched, “Gotta rest today. Heading out on a job tomorrow.”
“Well, have you explored Scuttleway at all?”
“The city?” Joseph shrugged, “Not really. Just been to the arena, and that’s about it.”
“Well, it looks like you've been stuck here or there all day,” Rosemary smiled, “You haven't really been out yet, have you? On the town, going to the bars, having a grand old time..”
“No, I haven't,” Joseph said.
Rosemary gave him a look, “You're avoiding the offer, aren't you?”
“Alright, alright, I'm getting up.”
She gave him another smile, then ran towards the double doors. Joseph was secretly glad – he'd felt uncomfortable walking through the city alone, and someone who knew where they were going would definitely be a help in figuring out where everything was. He'd already forgotten where that bakery Contort had brought him to had been...
“Right,” Rosemary explained as they walked outside, “Nothing too crazy about Scuttleway. The city's divided into six districts: the markets, the governmental buildings, the military center, the noble district, portside, and the residential buildings.”
They passed down the road that snaked from Castle Belenus on the edge of the city, towards the center of the markets. The sounds of the city droned into their heads as they walked – people of various races barking and hollering out their wares, the sounds of dogs barking and children laughing.
“Scuttleway's an independent city,” Rosemary explained, “A trading city here on the landmass and beyond. They lease out a couple of airships from Melmaen.”
“That's...” Joseph struggled to remember, “That's where you got the Dreamer's Lament from, right?”
“Exactly!” Rosemary said, “They got it before my time, though. Oh, there's an airship now!”
She pointed, and Joseph craned his neck up. High in the sky, slowly getting larger as it got closer to the city, was a floating galleon, great wings bolted to its sides. It descended through the clouds, heading down towards the edge of the Scuttleway and the sheer ravine that made up one of its edges.
“So the ships aren't native here, then,” Joseph said.
“Nope. Melmaen in origin,” Rosemary replied, “And it's because of those airships that Scuttleway's gotten so big.”
“And the Federation... allows it?”
“As far as I'm aware,” Rosemary said, “I think I remember reading a few contracts that Wakeling had given me, stuff about political uses, the fact that most of Salthirn is on the cusp of inventing airships anyways. It's a process.”
She went over to one of the stalls in the market, grabbing a few apples and tossing a couple of coins to the shopkeeper. She took a bite out of one of them, pulling Joseph to the side to avoid a large wagon filled with various pieces of merchandise.
“Before,” she continued, “Merchants had to snake all the way over to Kelphaven in order to get here. Scuttleway was a mining town – still is, actually. Miners come in from all over to get over the edge of the landmass to mine great big caves in the crust.”
“And there aren't any inhabited cities over the edge?” Joseph asked.
“Not really. It's mostly rock,” Rosemary took another bite of the apple, tossing a fresh one to Joseph, “Only dwarves would want to live there, and most dwarves are on Terna Minor Landmass.”
“You seem to know a lot about the city,” Joseph mused, “Are you sure you're not from here?”
Rosemary blushed a bit, “I just like to do my research, is all. The history of a nation fascinates me, is all. It's just a hobby. You have hobbies, right?”
“I did,” Joseph said.
“What'd you do?”
They dodged past a couple of children running down the street. An ogre roared after them.
“Stop, you little damn thieves!” he snarled.
They went on their way, going towards the port of the city. As they got closer to the edge of the landmass, they could see miners at work – men and women with pickaxes, a few of them also wearing armor, tying ropes around their waists and jumping down to the mines carved into the edge. The airship was being unloaded now – its wings had tucked into its sides, and heavy chains moored it to the edge so it wouldn't float off. Crates and barrels were being hauled off of it in carts.
“I mostly worked on school,” Joseph said, resuming their conversation.
“And when you weren't doing school?” Rosemary asked.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
“I guess I was just...” Joseph thought for a few moments, “Doing what my friends did. Paul, he's a cool guy. Likes playing basketball, so I'd help him practice. I hope he's doing alright, back on Earth.”
There was a moment of awkward silence, as Joseph remembered his life back home. Rosemary seemed to take notice of that, watching him as he became lost in memories for a moment. Then, a thought entered her head.
“Oh! Here, let me show you something cool.”
“Hey, wait up!” Joseph called, as she began running, darting by the workers unloading the airship and heading towards a large lighthouse just on the edge of the city. It spiraled into the sky, painted in swirls of reds and whites. She opened up the door as Joseph caught up to her.
“Took you long enough!” she said.
“What do you want to show me?” he asked.
“Up here. All the way up top.”
They made their way up the staircase. At the top was the lantern that lit up the lighthouse – a massive, yellow geode that shone with the light of the sun, encased in glass. Beside it, soaking in the geode's energy, was Rosemary's mace. She walked over and checked on it, before nodding in satisfaction.
“The crystal here absorbs the energy of the sun, and magnifies it. It's more efficient to leave my mace here than out in the sun for a day,” she said.
“How much does it cut down?”
“About four hours, out of eight!” Rosemary smiled, “Gives me more time in the day. But that's not what I wanted to show you.”
She walked to the other side of the lighthouse, where a crate had been stored beside the railing. As Rosemary rummaged through it, Joseph looked out beyond the railing. He could see the entirety of Scuttleway – its curving, ancient walls, the mansions in the noble districts, a few religious temples, and the marketing district in the dead center. In the corner, rising above a few nondescript houses, was Castle Belenus. It looked strange where it was, a blood orange blight that seemed almost alien to the rest of the city’s creams and grays.
“Nice place,” Joseph said, “You come up here often?”
“Yeah, it's sort've my home away from home,” Rosemary said, still rummaging through the crate, “I come up here after every mission to recharge my mace. Plus, there are a few things I don't want anyone in the guild nosing in on.”
Joseph glanced over to the crate. Rosemary noticed what he was doing, and quickly covered part of it with a blanket.
“Hey! No peeking,” she said, “You'll ruin the surprise.”
“Alright, alright.”
A few moments and an “aha!” later, Rosemary produced a black T-Shirt with the logo of AC/DC emblazoned on it.
“Broon and I found this the other day while we were going through the storage rooms. AC/DC is a music group, Becenti said. From Earth, right?”
“Yeah, it is!” Joseph laughed, “No way, even all the way out here...”
“A gift from home, then,” Rosemary presented it to Joseph, “Especially since you've been wearing nothing but that white shirt this whole time.”
Joseph smiled, “Thanks, Rosemary.”
He didn't have the heart to tell her that he hated AC/DC. Still, he had to admit he was touched by the gift. Joseph folded it up and held it under the crook of his arm, “So, what else is out here in Scuttleway?”
Rosemary's smile became even wider, “I'll show you that bakery that Contort brought us to. There's also a nice place where you can hear the butterflies sing-”
“Butterflies sing?”
“If you learn to listen to 'em. Hear, lemme show you...”
They spent the day exploring Scuttleway, Joseph slowly becoming more comfortable with the city. By the time they returned to the guild, he felt ready – refreshed, even. That trapped feeling he'd been carrying with him since he had awoken his metahuman abilities had lessened. Not completely disappeared, but as he listened to Rosemary talk about a cricket she had seen – and apparently spoken with, and as they spotted Broon and Phineas in the Great Hall, and ran over to them, he got the feeling that it would one day fade away.
***
Joseph awoke the next morning prepared. He got dressed as the sun was still rising. Phineas's soft coos could be heard underneath his bed, magazines spread out on messy sheets. Joseph glanced over at one of the covers.
“Playfish,” he read, “Phin, you sly little dog.”
He pulled on his blue jacket and walked out the door, walking down the stairs. No one else was up, it seemed. The Great Hall was eerily silent as he walked past the glass blade in the middle of the indoor garden. Becenti was already waiting, in his usual business suit, his black hair tied back in his usual ponytail. He glanced over as Joseph approached – at first, Joseph had always assumed Becenti glared at everyone in disapproval. But as time went on, he realized it was just how Becenti's face was set. The poor bastard had a resting bitch face something fierce.
Today, though, as he looked at the newest member of the guild, his frown broke into a smirk.
“AC/DC?” he asked, nodding at Joseph's shirt, “Love their music. One of the best bands of their generation.”
“Agree to disagree,” Joseph muttered, yawning, “I'm more of a hip-hop guy, myself.”
“Hip-hop?” Becenti let out a chuckle, “An odd choice.”
“Ah, shaddup.”
They began walking out towards the garden. The Dreamer's Lament stood ready for them. Becenti went up the ramp and into the entrance of the airship. Joseph followed, the conversation continuing as they went up the stairs to the bridge.
“You have to admit, they've released some classics,” Becenti said, “'Thunderstruck,' 'Highway to Hell,' all good stuff.”
“Not my taste,” Joseph chuckled.
“Not even 'The Winner Takes It All'?”
Joseph stared at him, “That's... that's ABBA.”
“It... is?” Becenti furrowed his brow, “On Prime, one of AC/DC's greatest songs is 'The Winner Takes It All.'”
“Well, on Earth, that's an ABBA song.”
“The winner takes it all?”
“The loser standing small,” Joseph suppressed a shudder, “I had a teacher back in High School who played them all the time. Worst music I've ever heard.”
“Agree to disagree,” Becenti echoed. He flipped a few switches on one of the consoles. The Dreamer's Lament shook, and began to ascend upwards.
“Funny,” Joseph said, leaning against a wall as Becenti took to the wheel, steering the airship away from Scuttleway, “You're usually pretty no-nonsense about... everything, really.”
“Don't insult my AC/DC, and we'll get along just fine,” Becenti said, “Back on Prime, during the wartime years, AC/DC is really all I had.”
Joseph nodded. Then blinked.
“The... wartime years?”
But Becenti ignored him, “We'll be heading towards the Traveling Point between Londoa and the Silver Eye Galaxy in a couple of hours. We're lucky – it leads us right towards Everlasting Truth.”
“Capital of the Feds,” Joseph said, “Is it as cool as everyone says it is?”
“Depends on who you ask,” Becenti said, “It is impressive. But many things are impressive.”
“So you don't care, then,” Joseph reasoned.
“I never said that. Perhaps it's because I've been there so many times – lived there, for a couple of years, actually,” Becenti turned the wheel, the airship lurching to avoid a cloud. Far below, Joseph noticed they had begun moving over another landmass, “I have lived in many places.”
“You really get around, huh?”
“In addition to Prime, I worked and operated in the Silver Eye Galaxy on behalf of a superhero group known as the Silver Knights,” Becenti said, “Lived on an old freighter, the Richard's Machine.”
He gave a wry smile, “We used to call it the 'Dick Machine.' She got us through quite a bit, all things considered.”
Joseph let out a laugh.
“There's some coffee in the pot downstairs, go ahead and get some,” Becenti ordered.
“You want any?”
“No, I weaned myself off such weaknesses years ago.”
Joseph shot an amused look at Becenti, then went downstairs. He wasn't so bad, once you got to know him.
***
The Dreamer's Lament landed on a nearby floating continent known as Beritale Landmass. A great desert spread out before them as far as the eye could see. Joseph squinted, and he swore he could see great worms rising and arcing down in the sands, multi-eyed and terrifying.
“We aren't going out there, are we?” he asked nervously.
“There? No,” Becenti said. He grabbed a pair of backpacks, tossing one to Joseph, “Do you really think I'd land us a few miles from the Traveling Point?”
“That's... no, that makes sense,” Joseph said. They got off of the airship, looking out, “So, where is it?”
“It will be almost invisible to your eyes,” Becenti stated, “It's only with extensive training that I've been able to spot Traveling Points easily. Trust me, and take a few steps forward.”
Joseph did so, striding forward, sand gritting into his shoes as he walked. Becenti followed close behind. It was hot out – unbearably so. The air in front of him began to shimmer in a mirage, and he could swear the sky was starting to melt away.
“One more step, and you're through,” Becenti said, “Go on ahead.”
“Are you sure?” Joseph said, “I mean, it's just empty air in front of me-”
Becenti rolled his eyes and, with a single hand, shoved Joseph forward. Joseph felt a lurch in his stomach as the scenery disappeared in front of him, replaced with a sudden miasma of rainbows before he landed on a hard metal floor. The air here was mercifully cool and sterile. Becenti dropped down beside him a moment later, helping Joseph to his feet. They were in a room of some sort, a bright orange sky outside a window.
“Mr. Zheng,” Becenti said, “Welcome to Everlasting Truth.”
He gestured towards the window, and Joseph approached it. At first, he wasn't exactly shocked – the clouds curled a bit more than on Earth or Londoa, tainted a blood orange. Then, as he glanced down, his heart stopped.
The sky continued down. Far down. There was no land. The only thing Joseph could see that could be stood on were starships. Great behemoths, all of them hanging in the sky, propelled by massive engines that spewed out blue, plasmatic fire. Some were made of metal, shaped like orbs, or missiles, or arrows. Others were organic with great, bat-like wings extending out on either side. A thousand variations existed in the orange void, millions more no doubt plying the stars above. In between them were great cities that floated in the sky, each one of a different architecture and purpose. The only unifying aspect to them was a symbol – sometimes on a flag, other times burned onto the hull of one of the larger starships: four hands interlocked in a square, surrounding a four-pointed star.
“Holy shit,” Joseph gasped, “No way. There's no way this is real.”
“Quite on the contrary, Mr. Zheng,” Becenti said, “This is very real. It's been real since before our ancestors were born, and it will most likely be real far into the future, when our descendants are dust.”
“Where's the ground?”
“There is none. Everlasting Truth is a gas giant. Most of it is gas. Well, further below the pressure squeezes it down into a solid. But it's impossible for the average being to live down there. You'd be crushed by the pressure,” Becenti began walking out of the room, “Of course, there are some beings who live there. Maronids, I believe. And G'lambras. A minority, compared to the rest of the galaxy.”
Joseph wasn't sure what to say. Becenti guided them out of the room. They were in a hangar of some sort – smaller ships were resting in a vast room the size of Castle Belenus. A few creatures were going about their business here – aliens, some with purple skin and four eyes, others made of crystal who spoke with translators slammed into their bodies like ice picks, one of them seemed to be made of a pale green liquid, arguing with (perhaps, weirdly of all) a bored-looking human.
Becenti approached a large, orange crocodile-like alien. Seven eyes stared down at him, and the alien smiled.
“Ah, Myron!” she snarled out, “Good to see you.”
“Good to see you too, Rax,” Becenti said, “Goodness, did you do something with your snout? It looks freshly cleaned.”
“Oh, Myron, you charmer,” the crocodile flushed into a deeper state of orange, “Don't you play games with me now, I'm a married egg-bearer.”
“Of course, of course,” Becenti chuckled, “We're here on business with the Amber Foundation. We'll be needing the usual.”
“Let me see if the old girl's ready,” Rax said. She picked up a datapad off of one of the crates nearby, “Let me see... the Chloroform's Delight, the Endeavor... ah, here we are,”
She showed the datapad to Becenti, “The Titania Amber. Yep, she's ready and primed to head out.”
The ship on the datapad was box-shaped, with four triangular wings on each side. Two cannons were positioned just below the cockpit, and two more rotating machine guns were on the top and bottom of the hull. Rax pointed it out to Becenti – the Titania Amber was smaller compared to the rest of the ships here – around the size of a small apartment.
“Thank you, Rax,” Becenti said, “We'll be leaving immediately. No time for drinks, unfortunately.”
“Oh, that's alright,” Rax chuckled, “But you owe me. You still need to meet my children.”
“Of course, once we're done with the job, you can introduce me.”
He gave a warm smile to the alien, who waved again before she turned to help out another client. Joseph leaned to whisper into Becenti's ear.
“Drinks with her children?” he asked.
“A traditional past-time for the Moraxians,” Becenti replied, “Rax is an old friend.”
“I don't need to point out that she's a MoRAXian named 'Rax'?”
“No one ever gave them points for creativity,” Becenti said, “Now, let us get to the Titania.”
They shouldered their way past a few of the other airships, towards the Titania Amber. Joseph stared at it. It was obviously used – its hull, while looking freshly cleaned, still had stains on it from battles in the past. The ship creaked as he walked on, and smelled faintly of mold.
“This is... a beaut, alright,” he commented.
“The Titania Amber is the guild's premier starship,” Becenti said, “Well, only starship. She isn't pretty, but she's reliable. And tough. She's survived some pretty harsh battles.”
“Why the name?” Joseph asked.
“Titania Amber was our founder,” Becenti said, “Strap on in.”
He sat down in the cockpit, flipping a few switches on the roof. The Titania Amber began to power on, a deep thrumming sound like a hummingbird's wings echoing up from the engine below their feet.
“One hundred years ago, a giant strode out from her homeland on some distant plane to find a cure for her son, who had contracted a little-known disease,” Becenti said.
“Titania Amber.”
“Correct. She traveled across the multiverse, finding new friends and embarking on many adventures.”
“What happened to the son?”
“He didn’t make it, sadly. Titania Amber never found a cure. But she had found herself with a new-found family – family that needed her. After burying her son, Titania Amber used the wealth she had accrued in her travels to buy a castle seed, setting it down on Londoa, and founded a guild.”
The ship exited the hangar, flying out towards the endless, orange sky.
“For a hundred years, the Amber Foundation has stood as a testament to her will, of helping those who cannot help themselves, of guiding people along their way.”
“Interesting,” Joseph said, “Sounds like she was quite the woman.”
“Wakeling knew her,” Becenti said, “She says that Titania Amber was strong and compassionate. A beacon, to those who needed light.”
“And you honor her great memory by naming a run-down, glorified cardboard box after her,” Joseph chuckled.
Becenti gave Joseph a truly disapproving look. Joseph shrank in his seat.
“Sorry.”
***
They soared through the sky towards one of the cities. As they got closer, the ships in the sky began merging into a few lanes of traffic reminiscent of a highway, marked by floating buoys that led them into the city proper. The Titania Amber shuddered a bit as Becenti began descending down away from the lines, towards the city below, passing by skyscrapers and domed, floating buildings. Neon lights lit their path, advertisements shining in a dozen languages that Joseph couldn't even begin to understand. The city's streets reminded Joseph of pictures he had seen of Venice – people walked on sidewalks made of a combination of metal and stone, waterways acting as roads.
In the city's case, however, the roads were nothing but open air. Becenti went down, clicking a few buttons. The Titania magnetized to the side of one of the sidewalks with a harsh ka-thunk. They stepped out, and Joseph noticed, among all of the starships and floating neon holograms and signs, was a parking meter.
“Guess some things never change,” he said aloud.
Becenti swiped a card into the meter, giving them two hours.
“Let's go,” he said, “And, ah, be careful. Zydiac City isn't exactly the safest place in the Federation.”
He began heading towards a run-down, seedy bar. The bouncer was a heavily scarred, blood-red alien who seemed to be partially made out of rock. He sneered as Becenti walked in. Joseph took a second to stare at the open door.
“Good to know,” Joseph said sarcastically, “Gee, cool job, coming all the way out here for some day drinking.”
The red alien glared down at him, then did a start. Joseph flinched back.
“Gahahah,” the alien chuckled in a harsh, garbled voice, “Humans.”
The patrons inside the bar were, in a few words, strange and vaguely criminal. As Joseph stepped through, he had to move to the side as what looked like an eel with arms and legs slithered past him, hand covering his eye, which had been punched in. A massive, four-armed orange humanoid tended the bar, pouring out drinks to a zoo of different aliens – a three-headed fox was guffawing next to a yellow-skinned humanoid whose hands had been replaced with cybernetic scythes. Hungry eyes followed Joseph as he weaved through the small crowd. One of the patrons whispered to another, who began fingering a crude knife on his belt. Tinny, vaguely punk-ish music played through the dimly-lit bar, which had a strange, almost purple haze over everyone's heads. Becenti had found one of the few unoccupied tables, a pink-skinned waitress wearing a gossamer-thin dress coming over for the order. Joseph went to sit down by him as he ordered.
“Water for me. My friend here can order whatever he wants,” Becenti said.
“Ah,” Joseph thought. He wasn't technically of legal age back in America. But then, that didn’t stop him then. “Surprise me.”
He tried not to stare at the waitress's chest as she wrote the order down. Becenti shot him a warning look as she walked away.
“Eyes on the job, Mr. Zheng.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“My contact should be here soon, try not to get into any trouble.”
“Trust me, pal, if any trouble comes, it won't be my fault.”
The waitress returned a few minutes later, putting down a glass of water for Becenti and a strange, twisted glass for Joseph that was filled with a neon green liquid that glowed in the dusk atmosphere of the bar.
“Bartender gave ya Neridian ale, son,” the waitress said.
“T-thanks.”
She nodded and walked away. Joseph looked down at the drink, feeling apprehensive. The way the liquid shook and bubbled reminded him of soda, or acid...
“You asked her to surprise you,” Becenti said, “Might as well put on a brave face.”
“Yeah, just... getting used to the culture shock,” Joseph stammered. He picked the glass of Neridian ale up off the table. It felt oddly heavy, as though rocks had been put on the bottom.
“The contact will be here soon, so drink up, Mr. Zheng.”
Joseph slammed it down. It was thick – like maple syrup going down his throat, burning his esophagus. He gagged for a second, swallowing down the drink, coughing with tears in his eyes. It felt like his whole body was on fire.
“Congratulations, Mr. Zheng,” Becenti said, wearing a sarcastic grin, “Neridian ale is not something to be underestimated.”
“Whatever,” Joseph coughed, “Want the rest?”
“Oh, no,” Becenti said, “I don't drink.”
He stopped paying attention to the conversation, eyes honing in on someone walking through the door, “Alright, get ready.”
Joseph glanced up from his drink. Walking through the crowd was a large, gray-haired alien. It was vaguely humanoid, with six long, branch-like arms jutting out of its sides. Three dark green eyes emerged from the shaggy mop that was its head. The alien wore nothing, its entire body covered in gray hair like thousands of leaves on a tree.
“Norcanthopus Bulg,” Becenti said.
“Myron Becenti,” the alien had a deep voice, like a wheel being dragged through gravel, “And one other.”
“This is another member of the guild, Joseph Zheng,” Becenti said.
“Hey,” Joseph said.
“Greetings,” Norcanthopus Bulg lowered his head towards Joseph.
“So, what do you have for us, Bulg?” Becenti asked.
“Right to business, then?” Bulg's eyes watered, “No question of my husband? Of my father?”
Becenti sighed, “Forgive me, Brethrened One. I forget tradition. How fares your husband? How fares your father?”
“They are well,” Norcanthopus Bulg replied, closing his eyes in solemn respect, “My husband works far away in the reaches of space. My father plies through stars unmade. May he fly in peace.”
“Fly he will,” Becenti said, nodding his head in respect to the tradition.
“Now, to business.”
“To business,” Becenti repeated, “You said you had found something?”
“Indeed. An old Federation base in the Outer Reach,” Norcanthopus Bulg laid down a small disc on the table. A hologram fired up above it, depicting a map of the galaxy. It began zooming in on the northeastern quadrant, small circles highlighting certain clusters of stars, “Back during the Third Expansion period.”
“Old, then,” Becenti said.
“Very old. Twenty thousand years, old,” Bulg rumbled, “But its information should still be good. It was an outpost listing various Traveling Points across the multiverse in that region of space.”
“It's an abandoned base?” Joseph asked, “Why was it abandoned?”
Becenti nodded at him, “Asking the right questions, Mr. Zheng. Bulg, was there anything you found out on why the base was abandoned by the Federation?”
“Hmmm,” Bulg thundered, “My sources have theories. One professor supposed it had to do with a treaty Epochia forced on the Federation, making them abandon many outposts connected to the multiverse. Another thought the Federation lacked resources in other parts of the galaxy where the fighting was more intense, and thus abandoned the station in order to strengthen other parts of their campaign. We may never know.”
“But it's still there,” Becenti said.
“If it were not, I would not have told you about it,” Bulg leaned a bit closer, “Do be careful. This information was bought by many. If you go there, expect conflict.”
“That's why I brought Mr. Zheng along,” Becenti said, “Can you give us coordinates?”
“Indeed,” Bulg slid the disc across the table, “The planet in question was a Listening World by the name of Ermen III.”
“Ermen III,” Becenti said, letting the name roll in his mind, “Should make for an interesting journey.”
“The station in question is spaceborne, you hopefully should not need to go to the surface,” Bulg said. Two of his eyes flashed for a second, and Joseph could see, for a split-second, that the gray-haired alien's pupils reflected a computer screen giving him information, “I should leave. I've spent enough time here. Fare the stars well, Becenti.”
“Fare the stars well, Bulg,” Becenti said. The alien got up and left the bar. Becenti rose up from his seat as Bulg's shaggy form disappeared through the doorway, “Come, it's not safe here.”
He pocketed the disc. Joseph followed him out of the bar – a few of the patrons were starting to look at him with an almost predatory intent. The man with the crude knife had been starting to stand up as they left. They got back into the Titania Amber and took off, merging back into the skylanes above.
“Well, that certainly proved fruitful,” Becenti said, “Ermen III.”
“What's Ermen III?” Joseph asked.
“A planet in a region of the galaxy known as the Outer Reach,” Becenti said, “It houses a space station that tracked and forecasted the movement of planes in the multiverse. Or as close as the Federation could get, anyways.”
“And...” Joseph thought for a moment, remembering names from the histories he'd been reading, “Epochia. That was the metahuman nation. They fought against the Federation?”
“Yes,” Becenti said, “Very often. Epochia and the High Federation were eternal rivals, up until Epochia stopped being eternal.”
“Seems strange, then,” Joseph crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat, “I mean, we're metahumans, right? Descended from Epochia. Feels weird to be in the Feddie space, then.”
“Those wars were thousands of years ago,” Becenti said, “But there are still long-lived minds who remember it. Epochia and her wars are our legacy, for good or for ill.”
“What if someone finds out we're metahumans?”
“As with anything, it depends on where you go,” Becenti said, “If you have money, or you work for a guild, then chances are you'll be allowed to live your life as normal. If you aren't either of those, then best to keep to the Outer Reach, away from more prying eyes.”
“Good to know,” Joseph said. They continued flying, and he noticed Becenti was going ever upwards, out of the atmosphere of Everlasting Truth.
“So,” Joseph resumed, “That Bulg guy said he got his information from a... professor?”
“Higher education in the High Federation, especially here on Everlasting Truth, is a rarity,” Becenti said, swerving to avoid a wrong-way pilot, “Knowledge on history, science...”
“The STEM fields.”
“The STEM fields. Anything you would think that would qualify as higher education is prohibitively expensive. In some cases, it's even forbidden. Norcanthopus Bulg is an assistant professor at Saint Lo'Mel'Na's University for Gifted Individuals. He supplements his income by selling information from the Federation's history to people like you and me.”
“Like, a Robin Hood, but for books,” Joseph said.
“Oh, he doesn't do it for free,” Becenti said, “Far from it. Our client for this job was willing to pay an exorbitant fee to get this information, and to hire us to investigate that space station.”
Joseph narrowed his eyes, “What are we doing on this job, exactly?”
“Well, put the pieces together, Mr. Zheng,” Becenti challenged.
Joseph crossed his arms, furrowing his brow in thought.
“...Alright,” he said, “We're going to a space station on behalf of our client. That space station... tracked the multiverse, and worked on the forecast for traveling planes?”
“All planes travel, but yes.”
“So, obviously, if I were smart, I would make a record of where the planes traveled. The space station has records, then.”
“Correct.”
“So we go to the space station and we... look through the records?”
“What are we doing, Mr. Zheng?”
It came down on Joseph like a flash of lightning. He looked over to Becenti.
“We're finding a lost plane.”
And Becenti smiled.
“Yes, we are. Not just a lost plane, either. A dead one.”