The transition had been beautiful. Hunter had only ever seen it from inside the ship when they’d taken off from Sanctuary. But this time he could watch as the dull silver glow rendered into a black void, filled with a kaleidoscope of coloured particles, shifting and pulsing and dancing along waves of what substance Hunter could only guess at. He felt no etheric presence around him, save for whatever came from the ship.
That didn’t mean that no etheric phenomena existed, only that he couldn’t detect any charge. With that in mind, he did his best to still his mind and observe what he could.
The particles drifted through him- as if they were nothing more than a holographic projection, some sort of illusion that mimicked reality but didn’t quite come up to snuff. The two realities, though observable in the same one, seemed to house the particles and the ship with all its people separately. Neither the ship nor the particles disturbed each other in any discernible way.
A burning itch of curiosity was pestering him, but he didn’t have any way of exploring it. It was a mystery in plain sight, all around him yet utterly untouchable. He wondered if this was how most artisans felt about etherium — the object of their passion and profession being an utter enigma in a way that Hunter couldn’t appreciate, as they’d never have the more intimate connection with it that Hunter enjoyed.
Aera looked around with mild interest.
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s interesting, but not in a way that makes me want to spend my life exploring it,” she said.
“I’ve got enough lifelong interests to keep me occupied too, but who knows when two disparate areas of interest might end up meeting each other in some unexpected middle ground?” he said. She had a skeptical look on her face but shrugged instead of outright denying it.
“Who knows?” she sighed, leaning on the railing and resting her head in her palm.
“Tired?” he asked.
“Who isn’t? It’s been a long trip, and the Captain’s right. This was all just prep for the proper work to begin. Organizing work routines is going to be the next fun puzzle that we all get to collaborate on. That’s going to be an ongoing project, since routine change is based on necessity, often on a weekly basis.”
“You know, you would have been great at sales,” he said, “or putting people to sleep. I’m glad we had this conversation. How crazy is it you might have missed your calling entirely—”
“—I will throw you over this railing, Hunter.”
“Copy that. Shutting up.”
She smirked.
Light streamed through the particles, and a split second later, the void disappeared entirely.
Now, above them and around them as far as they could see was blue sky and clouds.
“Holy crap,” Hunter said, and he struggled to find another word to describe the shock of the change.
One second, nothing, the next; an entire world stretched before them. Seemingly endless forest, mountains, the odd clearing with lakes, and long slithering rivers as far as the eye could see.
They both stared silently at the undulating landscape below them. From up this high, Hunter could almost believe he was looking at some untamed part of Sanctuary.
Below them, the world went on and on.
The horizon implied a curve. But knowing what they knew of the world, it must be a virtual curve, which stopped existing the further away from the world you got. What was real, what was unreal? Maybe it was all unreal. Maybe it was all real. He actually hated thinking about this kind of thing. It made his brain hurt and induced an existential dread which he didn’t feel like he wanted to indulge at the moment.
He compared the view to the one he saw when he was on the plane, on his way to Costa Benne.
The thought was bittersweet. He’d eaten some of the best food he’d ever tasted on that trip, and he was worried he’d never be able to taste it again. He shook his head to clear those thoughts, but the emotions weren’t quite easy to shake away.
He did his best to distract himself with the magnificent view, trying to let it sink into his mind, trying to drown in it rather than the feeling of melancholy, which was threatening to ruin the experience entirely.
“Worth the wait,” Aera breathed deeply, savouring the sensations like Hunter was, “This world is gorgeous.”
“Gorgeous, but deadly.”
Aera nodded.
“If you needed an excuse to train harder than ever, the nature of our new home is probably good enough.”
Hunter frowned.
Aera noticed his reaction and raised an eyebrow.
“It’s nothing,” he said.
“It’s obviously not nothing, but whatever. You do you, Mr. Mystery Man. I think i’ve seen enough. There will be plenty of time to enjoy this view in the future if we can convince dad to let us join some of the exploration expeditions—”
“—wait, I heard nothing about exploration expeditions. There’s going to be exploration expeditions?”
“Yes, obviously there’s going to be exploration expeditions,” she said, throwing her hands in an exasperated shrug and looking at him like he’d just asked if apples fall down.
It seemed obvious, in hindsight.
He had flashbacks to all of his sleepless nights as a child, envisioning exciting adventures in alien worlds.
“You do not know how happy I am to hear that.”
“Don’t get too excited. Dad considers you and me V.I.P.’s, and as heirs, he’s only willing to risk our safety in very specific, controlled scenarios.
“Controlled, like Barnum?”
She sighed, and her elbows dropped a bit.
“Barnum should have gone a lot differently. I know you know that by now,” she said, looking away from him.
“Yeah, sorry. I don’t blame you, either of you,” he said, leaning over the rail with her.
The ship descended slowly in its transit across Skyhold’s sky, and eventually he was able to see the namesake for Skyhold itself. A large tree, larger than any mountain by a dozen times over, its branches stretching out into the blue sky. They say that when there is enough cloud clover the tree seemed like a pillar, seperating the heavens and the earth, holding up the sky.
Hence the name.
The outpost was near the great tree, not close enough to be in danger from any falling branches— whether that was an actual hazard, he didn’t know, but the people who planned the outpost decided it would be prudent to avoid being a victim to a such a potential disaster.
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That being said, wouldn’t it be a shame to not be close enough to enjoy the view? It was probably the most significant point of interest in the entire world, as far as they could tell. So they compromised and built the outpost on an elevated plot of land about 30 kilometres out from the great pillar.
Given that the tree itself — if it really was a tree and not some strange tree-like anomaly — was over 30 kilometres tall, it was still plenty visible from the outpost.
Hunter was leaning towards the tree being an anomaly. There were no other trees like it. Something unique had created this specimen, and Hunter wanted to find out what that was.
What were the odds that it was anything but an etheric phenomenon? Either that, or an alien art project, but given that the Asutnahem were the only people they’d known to exist beyond Sanctuary, they counted the odds of that being the explanation were vanishing.
Now that he thought about it, the existence of at least one extra-terrestrial civilization set a precedent, didn’t it? It meant that it was a variable which would need to be taken into consideration, at least to a limited extent. If there was one, there could be more. There was now a real possibility that they might find an actual living alien civilization somewhere out there.
“Credit for you thoughts?” Aera asked.
“Nothing,” Hunter said. Aera rolled her eyes.
The small handheld radio strapped to Aera’s waist emitted a sudden warning trill.
“All hands, brace for impact!” they heard the Captain yell. Aera suddenly looked behind Hunter, her eyes widening. She suddenly pulled Hunter towards the door to the observation deck.
A blast wave launched them both towards the door. Hunter hit the door first and Aera’s body slammed into his. Breath wheezed out of his lungs and it felt like the muscles in his chest had completely locked up.
Not this shit again, he thought.
He pushed himself up, struggling to breathe but doing his best to stay aware of the surrounding situation. He had broken Aera’s fall, so she was alright. Hunter opened the door leading to the ship.
“All hands! Brace for impact,” her radio trilled. Hunter pushed her through, and was about to step in behind her when another impact threw him to the side, and he tried to grab at the handrail, his fingers were just able to skim its cold, metal surface.
He was going to fall.
“Hunter!” Aera screamed. He saw her leaning over the rail, something like fury or anguish contorting her features. The looked seemed familiar, somehow.
He wasn’t out of options yet. The hull caught his falling body, but the ship was moving too fast under him. He scrambled for a handhold and finally found one, and his body screamed at him. A couple of years ago, this would have torn his arms from their sockets. He strained like his life depended on it, doing his best to keep his grip on the small ledge he’d caught.
His fingers slipped. He started to slide and roll, his movements out of his control. Fire and smoke plumed from the ship. Not just from near the observation deck, but near the engines as well.
That was all he could tell from the brief view he got before he hit the hull once more. He found one more hand hold, but based on how his hand was protesting the action, he knew it was over for him.
The ship was falling. It was moving faster and was tilting dangerously to its side.
They were going to crash, and he didn’t want to think about how many people would die unless they got the shield up in time.
His hands slipped, and he screamed in fury. He couldn’t die now, not today. Not when they were on the cusp of discovering so many potential mysteries. His dream was right in front of him. It had been right there, within reach.
He felt bitter. But he figured that as far as his last emotions went, he’d take bitterness over despair.
Gravity was the only force that held him now. End over end, he fell. He caught one more view of the ship as he fell and tumbled through the air, and saw colors rippling around it in an eggshell shaped bubble.
He closed his eyes, letting his last thoughts be of the family he’d found, of the beauty he’d seen in his final—
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Aera could identify all the emotions she was feeling. The tensions in her body, the shape her thoughts took, they weren’t things she often felt. But she’d learned to identify them when they arose.
Such was the skilful use of one’s mind, her teacher would say.
Confusion. Terror. Grief.
She put them all to the side and decided that only one emotion mattered right now, and it was the only thing that would stoke her focus like a fire, just enough to get off the ground and do what needed to be done.
As she had sat on the ground, leaning on the closed door that separated the observation deck from the ship, she couldn’t help but see the look on Hunter’s face, which was now etched into her mind.
She watched until his grip failed, then watched his struggle to regain it. Then, a slight flash of hope when he found his last hold near the bottom of the ship’s hull. The next second, he was gone.
She’d watched the shield activate far too late to arrest his fall.
No one would ever see Hunter again, even if he somehow survived the fall.
Skyhold wasn’t just dangerous. There were large tracts of this world where no one from the company would dare to tread. Even the outpost, which was established in one of the safer areas they’d discovered, required a full platoon manning its walls with heavy weaponry to prevent the marauding wildlife from overrunning them.
Anger would get her through this.
She summoned her fury — towards whoever the hell had attacked them. She refused to let someone else die today, if she had a say in it. Not unless they had pointed a missile at her ship.
The ship convulsed, and the force launched her towards the ceiling. She covered her head reflexively, just in time to stop it from cracking against the metal tiling above.
Then she fell to the floor, hard. She groaned, and it hurt to do so.
As soon as he felt she could tolerate the pain, she activated her radio.
“This is Aera Oberon. Where am I needed?”
“Aera! Are you alright? Are you wounded? We can get a team you if you can let me know where you are. Where’s Hunter?” she heard her father’s relieved voice transmit through the speaker. She breathed her own sigh of relief.
“I’m fine, dad. Hunter, he—” she choked back a sudden upwelling of emotion that she didn’t want to deal with just then, “he’s gone.”
The silence spoke volumes about how her father was taking the news.
It took a few seconds for him to respond.
“I see. I’m sorry, Aera.”
She sniffed and wiped at her eyes.
“Make your way to the bridge. Avoid the stern and port bow if you can. That’s where we were hit. I’ll need your help to coordinate rescue and repair efforts when you get here,” Commander Striker’s voice transmitted through her radio.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
She pushed herself up from the ground and pushed away the grief with each step. She checked on everyone she came across, helping to carry those who couldn’t quite carry themselves to the med bay, which was on her way to the bridge, anyway.
“Who the hell attacked us?” one crewman she was assisting had asked.
“A bunch of dead men walking,” she growled, the fury tightening her throat.
“A-fucking-men, ma’am.”
“Focus on recovery for now. We have a lot of problems to solve before we can think about a counterattack, alright?” she said as she set the man down near the med-bay.
“It’s not like I’m gonna brave the wilderness in my quest for revenge,” the man said, groaning and clutching his side. She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but she was far too distracted by her inner world for it to be genuine.
Along the way to the bridge, she was relieved to see that most of the crewmen she came across were in one piece, able to carry themselves, and already repairing or assessing damage. She made it to the bridge and beheld pandemonium.
“It’s a shitshow, Aera, but we’re alive,” Captain Gregor said as he greeted her. Her father spotted her and hurried over, giving her a hug.
“I’m sorry about Hunter,” Trey said, “and we’ll talk about it later, but for now, we have work to do.”
“Who attacked us?” she asked.
“Skyhold,” Captain Gregor said, venom in his voice, “at least, we think so.”
“What?” she asked, unable to comprehend what she was hearing. “How? Why?”
He shook his head.
Emotions were threating to overwhelm her. She swallowed it all.
“Right, answers later,” she said.
It wasn’t the landing they were planning for, but it was the landing they got. There were a thousand things that would need to be done to ensure that they would be safe for the short term. Then they could plan what to do next.
As long as the shield was up, they would be okay.
Despite her best efforts, her thoughts drifted to Hunter. She wished he were here; he would finally have been allowed to examine the ship’s inner workings.
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A loud squawk woke Hunter from the deep sleep he hadn’t remembered falling into.
The first thing he noticed was the smell. It was beyond rotten, and the moment his brain processed the assault on his senses, he wretched. There was an intense pain in his side, and he knew he had at least one broken rib. A few other parts of his body were signalling their protest as well. He had been lying in a shallow pool of a semi-gelatinous green goo, the surface of which was curdling, and grew more liquid towards the bottom. Hunter stood, trying and failing to shake off the strange substance he’d found himself in. He covered his mouth and nose as best as he could, but the substance surrounding him soaked his clothes and skin. There was no escape from the wretched, rotten scent.
A strange beast flew overhead; he heard another squawk. Watching a dog-sized reptile-bird release a small stream of green liquid from its backside, he frowned. He gagged when he realized what was covering him. Waking up in a pool of fermented feces was not how he wanted this day to go. Then he remembered how he’d gotten here.
He’d survived that fall, somehow. The Hunter from a year ago would have died. But it wasn’t just his increased constitution which kept him breathing. The canopy which had broken most of his momentum had been full of flexible wood, which probably explained the broken ribs. He was lucky he didn’t crack his skull open.
The shit-pool was at the bottom of a small pit. Hunter climbed out, but froze as he crested the edge. A few dozen of the reptile-bird-dogs were staring at him. For a few seconds, Hunter didn’t move.
Neither did they.
One of them warbled, and a few approached, snapping their little beaks at him.
There were teeth in those beaks. That’s not how beaks worked, right?
Hunter hated Skyhold already.