He had kept going all night, hoping Jack would at least stop to get some sleep, which would allow him to catch up.

Some of the witnesses he had talked to had described the historian’s vehicle, so he was keeping an eye out for that.

It was nearly dawn when Ed reached the village of Tiqqur. Early risers were coming out, heading for work.

He consulted the onboard AI for a list of the local hotels. There were only two, so he headed to the first address.

At the front desk, he showed a picture of Jack—which the AI had printed for him—and was told that no, they had not seen him, nor was his name in their records.

He flew to the second hotel.

It was seven by the time he got there, and he became excited when he noticed a parked glider that looked a lot like Jack’s.

A man was walking toward it. He had the AI zoom in on the individual and immediately recognized him.

Finally!

He landed next to the historian’s glider and jumped out.

“Mr. Arnett! We need to talk.”

Jack jerked back when he saw Ed. He turned and ran away.

“What the—”

Ed rushed in pursuit.

Why was the man running? What did he have to hide?

“Stop!” he called out. “I just want to talk...”

Jack did not stop.

He jumped over a rail and ran into an abandoned building across the street from the hotel where he had spent the night.

Ed followed in. But as soon as he did, there was a crackling sound and a section of the wall on his right broke off and fell.

He ducked.

Was Jack actually shooting at him?

For crying out loud!

A buzz in his ear signaled an incoming call on his holovisor.

He crawled into a corner, taking cover behind a pillar, and tapped his temple to take the call.

“Hello?” he asked distractedly, as he glanced over the edge of the pillar.

Another phaser shot nearly missed him, hitting the ceiling above him.

“Mr. Gyldenstierne? This is Rose, from the Commodore. We talked the other day?”

“Ah, yes, the nice lady at the front desk,” he said. “I remember. But this isn’t exactly the best of times...”

“Oh. Sorry. But you said you wanted to know when Mr. Arnett would be back... It seemed important, so I thought—”

He frowned. “Wait... What? Are you saying he’s back?”

“Yes. Yesterday was my day off, so I only found out when I started my shift a few minutes ago.”

“Are you sure he’s there now?” he asked, startled.

“Well, yes. From what I’ve heard, he was in a rather bad shape and will be stuck in bed for some time. So I can’t imagine he’d have walked out...”

He stared at Rose’s face floating against his retina.

What the hell is going on here?

***

Magic was everywhere, if you knew where to look. It was just a matter of using it how best you could to obtain the result you wanted.

Still, it would have been folly to expect miracles. Paul was no doctor, after all. But he could at least alleviate some of the pains his friend was enduring.

When Will arrived, he found Jack walking slowly between the bed and the desk.

“Hey! You’re back on your feet!”

Jack grimaced. “Yeah, but it’s exhausting.”

He dropped to the bed and let out a deep sigh.

“It’ll get better,” said Paul.

“I just hate being stuck here when there is so much work to do...”

“The mask can wait a few more days,” remarked Will—who knew exactly what his friend was thinking about. “It’s not going anywhere.”

The lead historian seemed annoyed by the remark. “I know that, but I hate feeling useless like this...”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“You’ll make up for it soon enough,” said Paul. “Especially if you rest. Besides, the timing is kind of convenient.”

“What do you mean?” asked Will.

“I need to leave Joqqal for a while.”

Jack’s eyes went wide. “You can’t! Not before—”

Paul held up a hand, interrupting him. “One, I won’t be gone long. Two, you need to rest. Three, like Will said, the mask is not going anywhere.”

His friend grumbled as he lay back down on his bed. “But why?” he asked. “What’s so important that you have to go?”

“Well... I’ve been meaning to tell you guys...” He pulled a chair and sat down. “I was happy to see you again, of course, but that’s not the only reason I came to Qojja.”

“You met a pretty girl?” joked Will.

“No. But a few months ago, I dug up a picture dated from the day of my birth. It was taken in a village outside of Joqqal. There was a woman there with a tattoo who I have been able to identify. I talked to her yesterday, and I know now where to find my mother.”

His two friends were stunned by this news. They’d always known Paul was an orphan, and he’d often talked about looking for his parents, but it had all been wishful thinking—or so they had thought.

“What about your father?” asked Will.

“I don’t know,” said Paul. “But that’s one of the things I plan to ask my mother about.”

“I didn’t realize you cared so much about all that,” muttered Jack.

Paul lifted his hands and shook them in the air. “These powers I have! I need to understand why I have them.”

“It’s not like you’re unique... others can use magic.”

“I don’t use magic. I see it, I feel it, I bend it to my will. This is not normal. Others have to learn complicated spells and follow restrictive rules... I never had to go through any of those hoops. It always came to me naturally. But why? I don’t know. Are my parents like me? I feel like they might be the key.”

“Can’t you go after we get the mask?”

“And twiddle my thumbs while I wait for you to be back on your feet?” Paul shrugged. “I figure I might as well go now.”

“How long will you be gone?” asked Jack grudgingly.

“Not long. The village I need to visit is nearby. I expect to return within a day, two at most.”

Jack sighed. “Very well. I hope you find your answers.”

***

Two days after her visit to the bank, she received a holo call from the manager.

“We have found some old archives of your parents’ bank statements on our servers. I am transferring them to your AI now.”

“Thank you so much!” said Susan. “This will help a lot.”

She was excited by this news. Of course, these documents would not answer all of her questions, but she might find a new lead, something to hang on to, to keep her going...

Until what?

Her uncle’s words still haunted her. Was she just too stubborn to give up on a lost cause? Was she going to keep grasping at straws her entire life?

She pushed those thoughts away and had the AI bring up the files on her TriVid screen.

The documents were difficult to understand at first. They were not copies of the versions sent to customers, but the raw data that was recorded in the bank’s servers.

She started taking notes, writing numbers in a spreadsheet... to better organize them, and to give them a form she could better process and assimilate.

After a couple of hours, it seemed clear her father had received large sums from the same source repeatedly over six months.

No names were listed in these datasets, only references. But the bank manager had sent her a list of all the references with the corresponding names and addresses. Browsing through it, she found the source of the money: Lucaan Labs.

The name rang a bell. She vaguely remembered seeing commercials for that business when she was a child.

With a few taps on her screen, she brought up all the information the AI could find on the company.

The government itself had created Lucaan Labs in the colony’s early days. They had handled all of the settlers’ medical examinations and immunizations. They quickly became the lead health institution on Vuulthur, owning several hospitals and labs. She even found ads for test subjects intended to help develop new, ground-breaking, and possibly life-saving drugs.

Susan sat back and stared at the data.

A medical lab? What did it mean?

Why were they giving her parents so much money?

Had they signed up as test subjects?

Or was it a settlement for a procedure gone wrong—maybe in connection with her mother’s diagnosis?

Or had they uncovered some dark secret, and the company was paying for their silence?

She wasn’t sure she liked any of those scenarios...

***

The day after the bombing had been a more quiet one. The two crowds in front of the hotel had clashed, and the police had had to step in. Violence had ensued. Things had been tense afterward, though with the curfew people were forced to stay indoors.

Ward guessed if things seemed quieter now, it might just be the calm before the storm. He wondered how things would evolve, and was frustrated he couldn’t do anything about it.

As he waited to hear back from Moonrise, he looked up some of the names on the list.

He was surprised to get very little information from the TriVid system in his room. In most cases, he was told the individual was a private citizen and data access was restricted. This was unusual.

As a workaround, he tried using his badge to unlock the information, but he was turned down as not having the required authorization level.

In frustration, he decided to watch some videos to learn more about local culture—especially the Zendaar. That name had been constantly on his mind ever since his conversation with Goodrich.

What he found, though, did not make him any less uneasy.

“There are hundreds,” said an enthused believer, “thousands of them! They look like you. They look like me. You could not tell them apart from us—nor should you... Why would you even want to? They walk among us. They live among us. They watch over us in their infinite wisdom and benevolence. Praised be their names!”

Groaning, he went looking for something with more substance... something with a more pragmatic approach. He came across the interview of two scientists that caught his attention. Neither of them was from Qojja, though they had studied the planet extensively.

“The one thing we can be certain of,” said a man with blonde hair, “is that they are not human. But to claim they are gods would take things a tad too far.”

“How do you know they are not human?” asked the moderator.

“Well, for one thing, they possess supernatural powers. For another, they have longer lifespans. There are records of some of them, still alive today, dating back four hundred years—if not more.”

“That is impressive... Has anyone talked to them about it?”

“They turn down all requests for interviews,” said the second scientist—a red-haired woman, “and refuse to answer even the simplest questions. Which makes it all the more difficult to assess what they really are, what they are capable of, and so on.”

“Should we be worried?”

The woman hesitated. “Maybe. It’s difficult to say. I mean, there were conflicts in the past, between humans and the Zendaar, but the two have lived in peace for centuries now.”

“What I don’t understand,” said the moderator, “is why are they only found on Qojja? Shouldn’t they be everywhere? Especially if they have such lengthy lifespans, you’d expect them to travel...”

“That’s a good question,” said the blonde. “If you ever figure it out, let us know!”

All three of them laughed.

Ward brought up another video.

“Through blood they feed, through blood they breed...” said a young dark-haired man with pale skin.

“And yet, they do not bleed,” remarked his friend.

“Oh, but they do... Pierce them when they’ve just fed, and you’ll find blood gushing out.”

He switched the channel and the TriVid screen filled with the faces of fanatics chanting “May the wrath of Kahn fall upon you!” as they marched through the streets of Joqqal.

Ward turned the device off, pondering.

These creatures clearly existed, whatever they were.

And they owned Moonrise.