Trae ran his hands across the bronzed metal of The Alabaster. His hand fit right into the silver pockets engraved in the hull, curving around the massive vessel. He stood atop the engine that sat on the cockpit, like an ornate egg ten times bigger than its nest. He slid down the curved slope of the ship, catching on a ladder rung next to the hatch into the hold.

The Alabaster was like an airship, though in shape only. Its true purpose was the inverse, to bring down. Past the water below the seas, lied a vast realm of dark liquid, an open space where all such objects and debris had been seen floating. The Alabaster was made, the first of its kind, to go down past the sea and explore this ‘Liquid Void’.

Trae knew this, it ran through his mind repeatedly, excitedly. It had been years that he had waited for his creation to come to full fruition. Not only that, but he would be on board during The First Expedition.

The people of Maeldon were seemingly made for engineering, and the tight spaces of compact machinery. Their torso’s were usually massive, but their arms were thin and long. In the middle, a flexible joint allowed them to bend their forearm in any direction. Trae pulled out a long wrench with a magnetic ball on the end, and wriggled his hand through a vent about a glass window into the cockpit. As he twitched around, the internal light inside the cockpit flashed in intensity. Trae groaned, trying to extend his arm just a little further. A small click echoed from the vent, and Trae let out a grunt of success. The light in the hull slowly got brighter and brighter, humming violently, lightly blinding the view across the glass. Trae quickly pulled his arm and the wrench back, and the light inside The Alabaster still shone blindingly.

“Uh oh.” Trae whispered to himself, his voice cracking higher. His scream was even higher as another voice yelled out behind him.

“Hey!” A lower, yet feminine voice, caused Trae to snap his neck back with eyes locked on her. Cael Adon walked towards him, swinging her arm towards The Alabaster. “Inspection is next Breath!”

Trae shot his hands up, holding his breath. He glanced at the mag-wrench and quickly tossed it into the vent behind him. “Oh! Is it that time already?” As he spoke, the light in the hold died down until it disappeared. He nervously laughed, and Cael stopped her approach. The Alabaster sat on a platform a few feet up from a concrete dock, and Cael stood looking up and Trae slowly climbed down on the platform. He sat with his legs dangling off the platform. Cael grabbed the back of her neck as she looked up at Trae, then inspected the ship. She sighed, before beckoning Trae, swinging her hand towards her.

“Alright then. Get down here, we should go over the plan.” Cael turned around and started walking away from the ship

Trae shot his hands below him and dropped down from the platform. “Wait, what plan?” He yelled as he ran up to Cael’s side.

The Alabaster’s platform sat at the end of a large concrete dock, raised just enough from the ocean around it to block the full brunt of the waves. At the end of the massive walk, as the concrete turned into sand, was a large pyramid-like building. The two walked towards the structure, Cael annoyingly lecturing Trae along the way.

“They’re cutting the funding.” Cael sighed.

“Wh- wait.” Trae ran up a little ahead of her, looking back as even his hands started to wave around. “The trip is already funded.”

“One.” She turned to him momentarily, her eyes drooping for a moment, but quickly went back to Cael’s signature flat expression. “One round trip, one expedition.”

Trae skipped a step and a breath, and he fell behind a few steps before continuing on. “There’s three-”

“Yes, I know, they all know. Ryknn needs convincing that these are even worthwhile.”

“It’s…” Trae grunted as he again caught up. “It’s just gonna cost more down the line!”

“Trae…” Cael spoke softly, and Trae looked over as he dropped his arms to his side. “I know, most of us do. It’s just the way bureaucracy goes.”

Trae fell silent for a moment, as they approached the large doors to the Ryknn Junta Municipal Building. They heard the rumbles of conversation on the other side of the doors.

“Maybe if they’re weren’t so many of them-” Trae grumbles, but Cael swung her hand to his side.

“I get how you feel, but try not to show it on your face.” She turned to him and raised her eyebrows. Somehow, her face got even more serious. “We are not losing this trip as well. So shut up when they’re talking, and shut up more when I’m talking.

Cael stared Trae down for a moment, contemplating the seriousness of each other. Trae eventually started shaking his head, and Cael reached her long hand forward to the door.

The inside of the Municipal Building was a large perimeter of glass hallways surrounding a massive metal sphere contained inside the pyramid. In the spaces between the pyramid, a wide variety of flora hung from the roof and sprouted from the walls. The greens were planted as a collection of the habitats from all over Maeldon. It served as a biological symbol of the union between the island nations of the land.

Cael and Trae walked through three doors, passing through the first hallway and entering the second. The fourth door was an emerald door that popped in the white-lit hallway, it shot open in every direction, revealing a darker room. In the center of the darkened room, a large round table held 50 chairs, each with a color or logo on the back. Several ornately dressed representatives stood around the room, talking to each other in their circles. The subtle rumbling of discussion from just outside the building doors now exploded into a thunderstorm of debate. The shape of the architecture led sound to perfectly amplify out through the entire complex.

Cael scanned the room, counting thirty-six representatives. They were spread out between three circles of discussion, with four sitting down at their respective spots at the council table. As she was finding heads, a man turned towards them from a group on the left side of the room. He approached Cael and Trae, clapping his hands together.

“Cael!” The man yelled out, as he rubbed his hands, then reached them out to hug Cael. “So excited that you’re here, Cee!“ After embracing Cael, he pulled out with his hands on her shoulders, smiling as he scanned the dusty military outfit she was still wearing from her last expedition. “How’s The Fold these days?”

Cael scoffed. “Still confidential, politician.”

“What, no family secrets-sharing?” He gave out a short, somewhat forceful laugh, then turned towards Trae, and reached his hand out for a shake. “The pilot, I assume?”

Trae hesitantly reached out his hand to shake, nodding his head, making a small noise as he forced himself out of his bubble. “Y-yeah.”

Cael backed out slightly towards the man and reached her arm out to Trae. “This is Trae Mattie, the onboard engineer.”

The man’s smile grew. “Col Adon. My sister mentioned her famous navigator.”

Trae laughed a bit. “Well, ah…” His head shook a bit thinking about it. “Not this time, unfortunately.”

“Still!” Col took a deep breath in, retracting his hand. “It’s going to be an asset to have you onboard The First Expedition.”

The roof above the council table was a large cylinder hanging down from the roof. It hung 30 feet from the ground, with 3 layers of screen stacked on eachother. They currently displayed the names of every nation, their representatives name, and whether they were present or not. One of the screens displayed a voting tally, though currently dormant with a blank gray space at the top of the screen where a title might be.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

The four screens at the bottom flashed blue, letting out a pleasant ‘ding’. The debates around the room died down and everyone began to take their seats. Cael and Trae sat with Col at empty seats from absent representatives. Col turned to the duo next to him and leaned in. “Well, here we go.” He whispered.

Everyone finally got to their seats, and three older people stood up near the far end of the table. A much stockier man stood with two older women next to him. He slowly raised his hands up. His voice boomed out. Low and rough, yet somehow came across as comforting.

“Brothers!” He shouted out. Any whispers still across the room immediately ended, as all eyes shot to the man. Col laughed a bit, then leaned towards Trae’s ear. “That’s Ryk Mallie, recently elected head of the Junta.”

“What happened to Soree?” He whispered back.

Col held back a laugh, ironically the most genuine Trae had heard from him. “Aggressive negotiations,” he whispered back. Trae’s face went sour as he slid back to sit up straight on his chair. The voting screen flashed blue before the empty title at the top changed to ‘The First Expedition’. Ryk Mallie lowered his hands as all eyes locked on him. A smile grew on his face, one that would stay on his whole speech.

“Blessed mechanisms! We have brought you here to pray over the most significant event of our time! Through your glorious blessings, we shall vindicate its holy vessel!” His voice boomed across the curved roof and walls. On the other side of the massive council table, most sound heard was echo instead of direct speech.

Cael reached into her dusty pockets and pulled out a round, metal device. At the center, was a flashing red light. Still looking forward to Ryk, she’s placed the device on the table in front of Col. Trae glanced over, double taking but ultimately still being enamored by this new council-head. Without saying a word, Col put his hand on the device and slowly slid it into his lap.

“There is but a glimmer in the sea! We must be brave, the light of Mael to guide us!” Ryk continued. “And so, we ask for your generous contributions, your backing, and your official approval, that we may embark on The First Expedition!” As the reflections of his voice echoed, the voting screen flashed a green text on the bottom corner: ‘Open’. Panels inside the table in front of each seating lit up, blue and green. A symphony of high and low dings, echoed as quiet discussion returned to the ambience.

After a few minutes, the green text on the voting screen turned to blue, replaced by the word ‘Assessment’. Time didn’t function properly as Trae and Cael tried to keep their legs still, much less to give off an air of anxiety to the painted smile mannequin that was Col. After a minute, the screen turned to black for a moment, before showing the same screen littered in a darker blue. Each present representative was listed like a flight list, with either a yes or a no on the far right side of the screen. Trae looked up to examine the names. It seemed that the vote was on the verge of being cutthroat; 22-16 in favor of further expedition funding.

The two elders next to Ryk pulled away from their seats, and began to walk to the end of the room. Off into the dark, the back end of The Sphere had a small wooden lectern, lit with the thinnest of lamps directed right at the potential speaker.

“Guess we missed the debate, huh?” Trae nudged Col, smirking a bit.

Col’s smile grew temporarily, as he turned slightly towards Trae for a moment to indicate his attention. “Honestly Trae, at this point, that man IS the debate..” He gave Trae a pat on his back and locked his attention back forward.

“We have come to a decision then!” Ryk shouted from the pedestal. The two elders next to him seemed to be looking over a thick clipboard of sorts, flipping and writing on the various documents it held onto.

“50,000 Matton in Research. Objection?” Ryk shouted, looking around for a moment. The room remained silent. He went through a list of funding prices, all met with silence, at the most some concerned murmur’s.

“120,000 Matton for post-research. Objection? 200 Liv worth of fuel. Objection?

State acquisition of The Alabaster. Objection?””

After his last declaration of funding, Ryk simply stepped away from the podium in silence. The two elders then placed their document on the lectern, and began signing with increasing speed. Finally, they got to their last page, and began aggressively dotting the page. A pattern-sequence of dots was used as a signature on Maeldon, the bigger the pattern underscoring a greater importance. As they finished, the stacked screens above the council table seemed to raise, as the thick cylinder that rested on revealed to be itself hung off a piston. It retracted up, as the screen shut off, and the room remained lit only by deskside lights at every chair at the council table. By the time the screens had disappeared, Ryk had reached the head of the table yet again. He clapped his hands together, softly laughing as he looked around.

“Thank you all for coming! I hope we can reconvene at tomorrow's Commencement!”

Commencement was a big deal for Trae, he had never had his own creation raised to such a position. 5 elders from across the Aphrasian states would come to bless The Alabaster, and the vessel would officially be signed and bought by the government, able to be assigned to future expeditions and assignments. Though Ryk had given his sentiments that the representatives would be present for the occasion, the truth is that many simply did not care. The majority of voters in favor of The First Expedition either felt apathy and were convinced, or did not care enough to view the choice as meaningful. That’s why there was no discussion or objection to funding. Really, only 5 nations truly cared about external discovery. Supposedly, it was because of the sedentary nature of most of the Maeldon people; supposedly, it was because they were all too caught up in local affairs. Trae might have known all this somewhere in his head, but it didn’t matter the how or why. He had finally reached his goal, the goal of many young Maldoni: his holy creation blessed.

About an hour before The Commencement, Trae sat along the pilot’s chair of The Alabaster. He watched the raging waves visible from the front and left side windows. He occasionally glanced to his right, waiting to see the waves of decorated officials walking that massive concrete block. He laughed at the thought that he might not even navigate his own vessel, but the chance was there. A bright young girl named Aera was set to manage the charts this time around. Hope she’s not too ‘by-the-books’, he thought to himself.

He traced his hands across the leather seats, he ran his long hands up to feel the copper-plated machinery. The control panels and computers were hand decorated by elders and priests, with religious symbolism woven over the entirety of every armored surface. Engineering was taught early alongside history, math, and even language classes. Trae couldn’t remember a day when he didn’t know which gear did what, how many teeth it took for whatever size to be as efficient as possible. His heart and soul was The Alabaster itself. His musings alone inside the vessel was as much a recognition as it was a goodbye, as his ship was being bought by the state at that very moment.

Trae finally glanced for what seemed like the 50th time, Ryk and his elders walking towards The Alabaster. Much less than the bustling crowd of yesterday’s briefing, accompanying Ryk and the two elders was only 5 representatives, including Col. To the left and just behind the colorful crowd, 5 more dressed in dust and leather, the crew of The Alabaster.

Cael Adon, a trusted friend to sit at the helm of the ship. Aera Sol, navigator and assistant engineer. Bar Nol, weapons and logistics management. You had an older fellow, Mala Sol, Uncle of Aera and a seasoned rounder, which meant he could do pretty much everything the rest of the crew could. Maldoni expeditions always had a Rounder on the crew. They acted as the ultimate assistant to everyone, sort of like the ‘Senior crew member’. Walking at the end Doe Aen, apparently the best exotics scientist from the other side of Maeldon. Doe figured it was time to aggressively promote himself, as ‘exotic’ was quickly becoming a mythological term on Maeldon.

Before Trae knew it, they were all in the cockpit, assigned to their seats of various sizes and material. The elders stood outside, hands towards the ship, blessing it for the mission. After a few minutes of praying, and the crew waiting with windows open, one of the elders walked out the line of representatives and looked back at The Alabaster. She breathed in deep, then shouted out:

“A Cir O Kal!”

Her voice lowered as it traveled, the echo of the words lasting longer in their heads than usual.

Aera went to nudge her uncle, who was leaning on her navigation chair. “Is that really Luminae?”

Mera just laughed at the thought of it. He leaned in to whisper to his niece, curling up on her chair. “Well, technically it’s grammatically incorrect…” He chortled again. The Elder’s had used their special version of the ancient dialect for so long, even though they got it wrong.

“Oh yeah, maybe the way you learned it was wrong?” Cael said, before spinning the pilot chair on its bearing, smirking at Mera.

Mera just waved his hand forward sarcastically. “Nonsense! I know more than any priestess. Who’s gonna win, actual schooling, or ‘being blessed.’” He reached into his overall’s front pocket and pulled out a blade of tasting grass, an unorthodox snack, but flavourful to the right palette. “Me. It’s always me.” He laughed, running the grass blade through his teeth.

Trae was leaning near the exit doors of the cockpit, hands to his face, still watching the aggressive waves. He still was pondering the intimacy of letting all these new people into his space, into his lovely, his passion. He spoke out to the crew, though still facing away. “So, what does it mean then?” Mera laughed again, spitting out some of the grass.

“ ‘A O Cir Kal,’ The Journey unites us…”