The year was 2521. Dreychan didn’t agree that it should be, though. He had
the idea to stop tying themselves to the Earthan calendar, and form their
own identity. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that popular of an idea, and one of
the reasons was that a lot of people living here didn’t have a very decent
grasp of the passage of time anyway. On some homeworlds, it wasn’t
necessary. They produced what they were indoctrinated to believe should be
produced for the Empire, and that was just how things were. You didn’t need
to know what day it was. The transport ships would come and grab what they
demanded on their own schedule. As long as everyone kept up with quota,
everything was fine. They weren’t living in the Goldilocks Corridor anymore,
however, and were not subject to the Exin Empire’s rule. They needed to
assimilate into this region of space while somehow forming a new,
distinctive culture. That was no easy feat, and it wasn’t Dreychan’s job to
do that. Perhaps in the future, when the war is over, they will be able to
focus on their own self-fulfillment. For now, though, they just needed to
survive.
Everyone was arguing over each other, and Dreychan was staying out of it. He
didn’t have much choice. They never listened to him anyway. They called it
the Council of Old Worlds. Everyone here represented the planet where they
once lived, and were elected by their constituent refugees, according to
whatever methods they chose. Of course, a ton of people didn’t even
understand the concept of voting, so it took some time, and a lot of
education, but they all figured it out. Dreychan was different. You might
even call it special, but be careful who you say that to, or they’ll laugh
you out of the room. He was the only person from his planet who agreed to
come to safe harbor on Castlebourne.
Ex-777 was one of the few places where the residents didn’t suffer. They
were the ones benefitting from all the labor that the slaves on the other
planets performed. The only known world more desirable was Ex-999, or maybe
Ex-69, depending on your priorities and proclivities. The rest of the
Council hated Dreychan, which he thought was ridiculous. He was the one
person who defected. If anything, they should revere him.
They escaped to a better world, but for him, it was a lateral move,
but not even that, because he was too busy to enjoy all the recreation that
Castlebourne had to offer.
Ugh, he should stop feeling sorry for himself. Yes, he was only on the
Council by default, and yes, he deserved to have his voice heard anyway, but
it wasn’t irrational for them to ignore it. He wasn’t representing anyone,
but that was exactly why they did need to listen, because this council
shouldn’t exist. They shouldn’t be maintaining their old world connections.
They should all become one peoples. How could he get through to them?
“What do you think?”
Dreychan just sat there, and yawned a little.
“Drey,” she urged.
“What? Are you talking to me?” They weren’t usually talking to Dreychan.
“We need your opinion.” What was her name? Ex-777ers were all born with
names, but just about everyone else only had a number. It was a way for the
Empire to dehumanize its subjects. Once they came here, they were told that
they could start using names now, and there were various ways of choosing
them. He just couldn’t recall hers right now, which was very bad of him. She
was actually quite nice, and didn’t seem to hold the same grudge against
Dreychan as the others.
“What was the question?” Dreychan asked awkwardly.
“Oh my God.” Now, Dreychan knew Maaseiah. There was no way he was gonna
forget a name like that. The Corridor was 16,000 light years away, and
actually predated Earth’s bible times due to time travel, so none of Earth’s
religions existed there. This meant that Maaseiah had to do a ton of
research to decide on the most obnoxious name he could possibly find. He
seemingly wanted to put his delusions of grandeur on full display, and he
freakin’ nailed it. “Do you want to be a part of this, or not?”
The lovely woman sighed—Lubiti! That was her name. He didn’t know why she
chose it. He was remembering now that she was from Ex-883, which
manufactured spaceship shielding plates, and really that was it. “Calm down,
Masy.” She always called everyone by a nickname. It was exciting to learn
that names could be unique and interesting, and even more exciting to learn
that each one came with variations and alternate spellings. She turned to
face Dreychan again. “We’re trying to decide whether we want to move
Castlebourne closer towards the Core Worlds, or stay out here in the Charter
Cloud.” This was a fascinating concept. The closest colonies to Earth were
the most cohesive, and the farther out you went, the less familiar the
culture and laws became. These were divided into three-dimensional bands.
The Charter Cloud wasn’t the farthest, but it was beyond the stellar
neighborhood, which meant they were afforded no protection from hostile
forces. They had to protect themselves, and the decision was already made to
simply leave the area entirely.
“Hrockas needs an answer,” Maaseiah explained. Hrockas literally owned this
whole planet himself. He was the one who built the domes, and filled it with
all the fun and interesting things to do. He graciously let the refugees
live here when they had nowhere else to go. He was even more powerful than
the Council. “He said he needed it yesterday, which I suspect was
metaphorical, though he might be expecting us to send a message back in
time, which we will need to look into. Teemo, write that down.”
Teemo wrote it down. He was from a world with very few refugees, so it was
relatively easy for him to be elected the council representative, though
unlike Dreychan’s case, the ones who chose to stay behind did so because
they were too scared. They were right to be, given Castlebourne’s
predicament now.
Dreychan had already thought of this, because he was good at being ahead of
the game. He just didn’t have all the facts. “If we move closer in,” he
begins, “will we join the neighborhood? Will our status amongst the other
worlds change?”
“No,” Lubiti answered.
“So we’ll be...weird. There might be colonies farther out than us who are
better protected due to us being an anomaly.”
“I don’t agree with that interpretation,” Maaseiah countered. “To get to one
of the other colonies, they might have to pass by us. In fact, I propose we
intentionally place our star close to another colony, so we can
receive some ancillary protection from them. From what I gather, the
Teaguardians volunteer their firepower to protect the colonies. Surely if we
ask for help, they will just help us, even if we’re not technically entitled
to it. It would be a lot easier if we were only a couple light years away
when we ask, though.” Teaguardians were battleships that came from an
outpost called Teagarden, which orbited Teegarden’s Star. They evidently
didn’t stray far from the root word. They were only obligated to provide
protection to the Core Worlds and the stellar neighborhood. Castlebourne
didn’t qualify, and it was sounding like it never would, even if they moved
themselves closer.
“The whole point of moving our host star is to not have to ask for
protection,” Lubiti reasoned. “We’re trying to hide, which is why we should
limit the number of people who know where we are. Our location has already
been leaked. Let’s not let it leak again, because we don’t know if we’ll be
able to move again. Hrockas never told us how it’s going to be accomplished
in the first place. It may be a one time thing.” She was so right about
that. “Do you agree?” she pressed Dreychan.
“I do,” he said, and not just because she was pretty, and he never did find
someone to love on Ex-777. “We must stay in the Charter Cloud. Our
anonymity is our greatest strength. We can swing quite far from here, and
still stay a hundred and eight light years from Earth. Hell, we could go a
little farther.”
“We can’t go farther,” someone else contended. Dreychan didn’t know his
name, but he used to work out of Ex-741, which was a giant spaceship
manufacturing plant, so he understood all this light year/special relativity
stuff. “I mean, we technically could, but we shouldn’t. Castlebourne serves
as a recreational hub for the entire colonial sphere. Everyone wants to come
here, and the population is rising exponentially. Now, quantum communication
allows them to make their connections without knowing our coordinates, but
vast distances are more difficult than closer ones. It’s called coherence.
Hrockas will not want to make the casting equipment work harder than it has
to. If anything, we should get a little bit closer, but I agree that we
ought to stay in the Charter Cloud, and mostly move laterally, relative to
the Core.”
“We must remember that it is not our call exclusively,” Lubiti jumped back
in. “Hrockas is asking for our input, not our decision. He probably
will want to move a little closer, but stay in the Cloud, because that’s
what gave him the freedom from the establishment. And don’t forget that we
have our own defenses. We don’t need the Teaguardians. If the Oaksent finds
us again, and we can’t get away, we can fight back. We will fight for
our new home.”
“I agree with Biti,” Dreychan said.
“Of course you do,” Maaseiah spat.
Dreychan ignored that outburst. “If for no other reason than to stay in his
good graces, we should give Hrockas the answer that he prefers. What is
easier on him and whoever has this power to move a sun? What do
they want to do?”
“Okay.” Council Chair Rezurah stood up. “I think it’s time for another vote.
If we can secure the supermajority right here, I will be able to meet with
Hrockas today to determine the particulars. Worst case, we will get back to
you tomorrow morning for Council approval. If all goes well, we should be
traveling at relativistic speeds by the end of the month. I urge you to vote
wisely, as this decision could mean the difference between staying hidden,
and being discovered by the enemy. Teemo, you’ll count this time, as you
have not done it in a while.” They rotated this responsibility to make it
fair, and to make sure that no one would have more than one opportunity to
cheat.
The vote went in favor of Lubiti and Dreychan’s plan. Well, it wasn’t really
theirs, and very much not his. Around half of the people agreed with it
before they even started, and half of the rest had come around. Rezurah went
off to her meeting with Hrockas, which she was already late for, and the
Council meeting was closed. Dreychan was just going to return to his
habitat, as he did every day, but Lubiti stopped him in the hallway. “Hey, a
few of us were going to have some fun in 2.5Dome. You interested?”
“I don’t know what that is,” Dreychan responded, when he really should have
just politely declined, since he didn’t like anyone who might be going
besides her, and he wasn’t really the fun type. All his old peers
were surprised that someone chose to give up paradise to become a refugee,
but not surprised that it was him. He liked the boring life.
“It’s hard to explain. You just kinda have to see it. Come on!” she
encouraged.
He did want to spend more time with her, to maybe see if his sudden feelings
were just because she was the only person in the world who would give him
the time of day, or if they were more substantial. “Okay. Sure. Why not?”
They sat alone together in a vactrain pod. The others had evidently either
already left, or would be meeting up with them later. Despite Lubiti’s mild
protests, Dreychan ended up looking through the prospectus for this
adventure dome. There was reportedly a time when video games on Earth were
so unsophisticated that they were two-dimensional. The player could move up
or down or side to side, but no other direction. In fact, a lot of them
apparently wouldn’t even let you move your character backwards, if there was
something you missed before. The other half dimension was because the
playspace was in base reality, so it was still technically 3D. Still, they
would be in a very narrow field of play, and had to make it through the
level without falling, or being killed by something. Both the
prospectus and Lubiti assured him that the dome came with a number of
different varieties. Most of this world’s visitors could die and come back
to life in new bodies, so they could actually fall into a river of lava and
be fine. For people like them, who only had one life to live, the levels
were a lot safer, though the reviews promised that they were still fun. Good
for her, not great for him.
The train stopped. They stepped off, and approached the counter for
registration. “Froenoe, party of three. We already filled out our info, and
signed consent forms.”
They did? That was news to Dreychan. He certainly didn’t sign anything.
Whatever, he trusted her. But hold on, party of three?
Lubiti sensed his confusion. “It’s better in small groups. The others will
be running their own game nearby.”
“Yes, I have you here,” the registration bot said to Lubiti. “Your third is
already at the entrance.” He set two green bracelets on the counter between
them. “These are your security bands. If you ever run into issues, squeeze
that button, and a door will open up on the side wall, where you can step
out onto a platform that follows you around the whole time.” Scary, but at
least there was a theoretical way out.
“Thanks,” Lubiti said. She took the bands, and then they listened to a
little more about how safe it was, that no one has ever been permanently
hurt, and all that stuff.
They then took another train to their playspace, where they found none other
than Maaseiah waiting for them. That was the most surprising development
today. He and Lubiti didn’t seem to like each other, and he really didn’t
like Dreychan. “Is he ready?”
“No. That’s the point,” Lubiti replied. Something had changed in her voice.
She was no longer smiley and light, but overserious, and maybe a little
angry? It was so confusing, Dreychan didn’t understand what was happening.
The three of them stepped through the entrance, and onto the first platform.
It was very narrow. They would be able to pass each other, but only if they
squeezed by, facing the restrictive walls, one way or another. After the
door closed, a third wall slid across in front of it, and then began to make
its way towards them. Yes, this was one of the ones that didn’t let you go
backwards. Lubiti and Maaseiah walked a few meters forward. There weren’t
any obstacles yet. They must have wanted you to get acclimated to the
environment first. Shockingly, they exchanged a nod, then pressed their
emergency buttons at the same time. Two doors opened up next to them.
“What’s going on?” Dreychan questioned, laughing, trying to sound friendly.
“We can’t trust you,” Maaseiah contended. “We can’t trust you to know where
Castlebourne will move to. For all we know, you’re the one who leaked our
location in the first place.”
“I didn’t,” Dreychan insisted for the umpteenth time.
“And now you never will.” Lubiti took one step through her special exit.
“You know I have one of those too,” Dreychan reminded them, shaking his
green bracelet for them to see. It glowed a little in the dim lighting.
“Press it all you want,” Lubiti replied with a shrug. “I broke it.” She
left, as did Maaseiah.
Dreychan pressed his button. He pressed again and again, but she wasn’t
lying. There was no escape. The moving wall hit him in the ass, forcing him
to move forward. He just stood there, letting it slide him down the path,
ready to fall into the next foam pit or water tank. But it wasn’t foam, or
water. It was lava. He could actually die here.
