The same sun that kissed the golf course in Cinnfoara assaulted the spartan streets of Laronting; an uncommon occurrence, as the northern city was blanketed by fog or heavy rain more often than not. It wasn’t the scene Sohrab expected as he left the dingy bar, considering he’d entered hours before when it was at least dim enough to see clearly. He held a hand up to his head reflexively and winced against the glare as he waited for his eyes to adjust. When he opened them again he wasn’t thrilled with the state of the hair clouding his vision. The humidity up here had it resembling something more like long strands of shredded coconut than anything.

  To make matters worse, the sudden onslaught of light revived the splitting pain in his head that had plagued him since half of downtown Tenphi fell into the ground. The whole flight home, he lingered in a state of delirium, in and out of consciousness, and wholly unable to answer the barrage of questions levied at him by his insipid travel companions. Sohrab was smart enough to know the pain cut deeper than a bad hangover but was dumb enough to try and drink it away regardless. This preceding night hadn’t helped. He shambled up the dull street, past the docks, following the steep road that led to the train station. At intervals, he’d reach for the wall to his left while casting wayward glances at the sea on his right. Traces of vapor still covered the water, in spite of the blinding sun. Why couldn’t they cover him?

  Bits of conversations half remembered came to him on his trek. His boss, Max was impressed he’d gotten Don Shalimar’s favorite nephew out of harm’s way before everybody in that club ‘viper-roomed’ themselves as the floor gave out. But how could he have known what was about to happen? Could he tell the future after all? Was he withholding the scope of his talent? “No, hell no,” Sohrab had said to him. “My friend was there, she’s a geologist. She knew the earthquake was happening before we did…”

  Even now, he mumbled, “she’s a geologist…” He repeated it a second time, before responding to himself in a mocking imitation of Nash’s voice. “No, I’m a geographer!” He kicked a rock out of his path in indignation and nearly fell in the process. As he fought to regain his balance, he followed the stone with his eyes as it bumped across the narrow street and fell into the ocean with a plunk. Near the site of its sinking, he beheld a very different kind of departure.

  The severe cargo freighters didn’t dock at this exact location, but mild to moderate craft did. This place had always been where a ‘little extra fell off the boat.’ Just diagonal ahead of him, he saw a group of Iolite men shuffle down a walkway leading to the entrance of a featureless, gray vessel. The fog was coming back in force now, making it harder for Sohrab to see who they were, but he was grateful for its cover all the same.

  By the look of these guys, he could tell they weren’t from this part of town, or maybe not from this town at all. He wasn’t either, but he decided it wasn’t his place to be judged. One of them seemed familiar. Had he seen him twice, or even once before? The man in question lingered in the rear of the group, pausing to take one last forlorn look around before heading aboard. Sohrab saw his sad violet countenance, framed by a mass of eggplant curls in the shape of a mullet. The visible sorrow on his face hid a deeper sense of dejection and confusion that was both complicated and simple.

  At once, Sohrab recalled where he last saw the man, and his focus became clear but for a moment. He quickly probed his mind to address the memory he needed to reinforce. Whenever the handsome Iolite thought of her, he would hear the same chilling refrain that poisoned him against her in the first place. “She’s crazy! You can’t believe a word she says! Do not trust her!”

  The other man’s eyes widened briefly in shock, but he shared it with no one. He simply shook his head of the troubling notion and turned toward his companions, half of whom were on the deck of the ship by now. His assailant remained unseen, as before.

  Sohrab gripped the smooth edge of the wall, grinning vainly to himself as his target moved out of sight. His moment of triumph was short lived though, as a familiar dizziness sent him crashing to his knees. The renewed searing pain in his skull cascaded over him in wave after increasing wave, causing him to vomit onto the pavement like some dying animal. When that was done, he dry-heaved until he felt like his stomach would collapse in on itself. Tears ran down his face, and white streaks crowded his vision.

  Only after that undignified little display, did the thundering roar in his head subside to a dull ache, as if the terror of an enemy were replaced by the comfort of a friend. There was nothing more for Sohrab to do than peel himself from the pavement, and trudge up the hill to the catch the train that would take him south. He was looking forward to the climb even less than he was what lay at the end of it all. At least he wasn’t getting onto a boat like that poor fool back there. Not much reason to envy him now.

  #

  Some days later, the sun was setting for good, blanketing the planet in the cover of the long night once more. Nash stepped over the threshold of her parent’s appropriative little ranch house into the fading, pink light. The dust of the yard swirled around her feet, and with it came the chickens, always twittering about and pecking at her shoes. She pushed them aside with her mind, the same way she’d done as a grubby toddler, sitting here in this same dust some twenty-one or two years ago.

  Though the meaning escaped her understanding for a long while, the moment itself was almost as clear as the day it happened. She could still see her uncle’s face as it was then. The lines upon it were shallower and the hair that framed it was a more vibrant shade of magenta. His voice rang out in her memory, advocating for her, imploring his older brother to see reason. “She’ll get a better deal in the city, a good deal! I even have this neighbor, a single mom, with two or three little kids. Shouldn’t she have somebody her own age to play with…”

  That’s all there was to it, nothing else, and it was everything. She brushed off her clothes, unwilling to be tarnished by soil or by nostalgia. Just beyond the gate, her own car was waiting for her. So were her friends, some distance away beneath the pastures at the edge of the mountain. One last insolent little bird tapped at her feet, causing her to look back when she hadn’t planned to. With an indulgent flick of her wrist, the spoiled thing skidded ten or fifteen feet across the yard where it landed against a tree with a thud. It got right back up and kept on clucking and scratching the ground as before. Nash stuck her tongue out at it as she raised the latch and left for the night.

  #

  “I know you hate living with your mom, baby. Almost no grown woman can stand it. And you two never struck me as the grey gardens type anyway. Now don’t you worry about a thing, not one thing. I’ll get you that place soon. It’ll be good too, and you can buy whatever you want to put it in, promise,” Greg whispered gently, if not a little absently, as he peered through his magnifying spectacles at some vile contraption. He felt Mia’s sharp fingers squeeze his shoulder and he cracked a wry smile, knowing she’d be giving him a look that said, ‘you better,’ as she walked away. It was the most affection she’d show him in front of the others, but he didn’t mind. He was engrossed in his work, anyway, dutifully affixing miniscule rivets to a new device that promised to blow its predecessors away.

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  How long had it been since he’d fled the scene on the doomed, gray planet? What passed for an investigation into the fate of the ruined energy station was cover for research with potential to disrupt and permanently reinvent all of modern transport. Though he made a few disturbing discoveries along the way, Greg remained dedicated to his unpopular idea, even as it enticed him to leave the others and start a whole life of half-truths somewhere else. Maybe his friend was right, for the time at least. According to LB, Greg’s theories wouldn’t work at this scale. Every other researcher agreed. The technology, though sound, was too unstable for operation by a sole individual. At this juncture, Greg thought it wise to undercut the whole premise. What if it wasn’t the scale that needed to change, but the individuals themselves?

  “I’ve nearly done it… another world.” He mused to himself as he gave the screw one last turn. “Like Shangri-La, Xanadu, Camelot… what unseen realm waits in the space between the stars?” He set the device down with care and lifted the glasses to his forehead as Zol walked past, still in a golf polo, but on his way to the vault, nonetheless.

  “Are you still talking about that nineteenth hole?” Zol condescended to his roommate.

  “Come off it man, that was days ago.” He pointed to the worktable before him. “This is the future.”

  “Another glove, but with blue on it.” Zol said flatly, as he saw the engine revving up behind Greg’s eyes. A highly technical, overeager explanation would follow. He pulled up a stool and leaned his heavy arms on the table. Might as well settle in for this one. In spite of his reluctant demeanor, he didn’t dislike Greg at all. Far from it, if anything, he was better than nothing for someone who once had a real brother.

  “Another glove?” Greg laughed, all part of the performance. “On the surface level I can see why it’d remind you of the old current amplifiers I was making before, but with those I was trying to solve a problem that was worked out centuries ago, by people far smarter than me, if you can believe it” he chuckled again. “No, see I was trying to increase the power on the one side of the equation, not realizing that it was the same mistake we made all those ages ago with propulsion. What I needed was a catalyst!”

  Zol scratched his hairy chin in a gesture of intrigue, “A cata…?”

  “A catalyst!” Greg beamed. “It’s a thing that speeds up a reaction! In biology, it might be an enzyme or something, but in the field of faster-than-light physics as it applies to power, the answer has always been the same…”

  “Ver –”

  “Vercoden, right! These new and improved gauntlets consist of the copper alloy mesh we all know and love interlaid with flakes of raw Vercoden crystal so that they both amplify current and distort space. And the spatial divide of the skin and the glove –”

  “What do they really do?” Zol cut him off, for both their sakes.

  “My friend, have you ever considered teleporting?”

  “No.”

  “Then start… considering it, I mean,” Greg jeered. “Anyway, it’s untested, so if one of you brave souls is willing to get me some data…”

  “Pass.”

  “Understandable. If that’s the way you feel, man, I totally, you know get it and all…” Greg leaned back on his stool in a juvenile fashion, pretending to admire the glove with a distant, wistful gaze. Zol looked to his right towards the stairs leading down to the float tanks, and the vault beyond those. He barely heard Greg when he asked him: “Do you think Kory would go for it?”

  “I don’t know dude,” Zol sighed. “Don’t you think it’s just –”

  “Up for what?” Kory asked, manifesting out of nowhere. She smelled like the outside.

  “Another thing… it’s always some new damn thing with him,” Zol rolled his eyes as he walked away.

  “Don’t pay him any mind,” Kory shushed as he disappeared down the steps. “He’s still sore I told him I wanted to go walking by myself earlier. And we’ve all been through so much lately…” She rubbed her tired eyes, red and worn under the harsh glare of the fluorescents.

  “Yeah, I can imagine it’s been tough,” Greg’s voice softened. He placed the glove on the table without the least bit of flourish. Maybe he had been over eager. “Another damn thing.”

  “Well, what is it?” She pointed casually at the new invention.

  He leaned forward and began his speech again, albeit with less showmanship this time. When he concluded, his audience appeared no less fatigued than before, but otherwise receptive, inquisitive even. Her eyes might have brightened if such a thing were possible.

  “I don’t know where we should test it. It can’t be in here if it might alter the space… you know how Nash likes to keep things arranged just so,” Kory managed a small smile before absently wiping the corner of her right eye with her index finger.

  Across the table, Greg cracked a grin of his own. She hadn’t shut him down immediately, which meant he had an in. “Oh yes,” he tapped his knuckles on the table, “it’ll all be ‘just so.’”

  #

  Later that night the five of them sat on the fence enclosing the entrance to their underground lair. Celhesru had begun its transit around the dark side of Geponnta once more, carpeting the night sky with a thick dusting of stars. There were more of them to see way out here. In the distance, the exquisite herd of Argentine cattle lowed as they settled down for the night a few pastures away. No sense in bringing them in when the weather was nice. Somewhere farther afield a dog barked. Nash might have mentioned his name was Seamus.

  “I guess you have different stars here, but on Earth I’m a Capricorn,” Greg said, passing the bottle of wine rightward to Mia. She took a drink then offered it to Zol, who sat on the end. He waved it away, not liking the taste of wine and more than content with his cigarette.

  “Where’d you even get those anyway?” Nash, who sat on Greg’s left, teased as the bottle made its way back to her.

  Zol took a long drag before answering again. “Told Rob I’d cave his face in if he didn’t give me one. Got a whole pack.” The dry response earned him a laugh from the group.

  “He hates when you call him that,” Greg added on.

  “Will he be on these next couple of trips?” Kory asked quietly, taking a sip of the shared beverage. She sat at the other end of the line, on Nash’s left.

  “Just a few of them. We’re going to try and phase him in when he’s really needed. He spent half of the last sequence under-utilized, and besides… he has a very ‘busy schedule,’ so he says,” Nash mocked, taking the bottle back from Kory. She took another drink and passed it back to Greg.

  “That’s good,” Kory half-mumbled as she swung her feet in the air. “He always seems to turn up at the oddest times.”

  “What does ‘Capricorn’ mean?” Mia interjected, addressing Greg’s earlier point.

  “Aw heck, good thing this is a long night,” he said.