All his life, Jillian had never experienced real fear. The reason for that, in his view, was that he had spent most of his life in a dryad hatchery. Growing up in such a highly structured and controlled environment all but eliminated any real danger. As destructive as the young dryads could become, there were always older ones to calm things down. The worst that could happen was for someone from the dome to grumble at Jullian for one thing or another. Such instances brought the usual degree of discomfort, potentially minor concern, but nothing more. Now, just before the start of the mission, the boy had the “fortune” of experiencing the sensation in full force.

  The thought that within minutes a ship would arrive to scoop them off the patriarch’s exclusive landing pad filled the boy with terror. This would be the first time he would experience interstellar flight, yet that wasn’t the issue. Silvena was. Transporting a conscious dryad was beyond absurd. He had tried to bring the matter to the clerics, but the security measures made it impossible. If only he’d known he would have mentioned back at the hatchery.

  Why are people so stupid? The boy clenched his fists.

  Everyone knew that dryads and technology didn’t mix. The few who managed to survive life in the cities were seen as an exception, and even they couldn’t withstand the effects of interplanetary space without heavy sedatives. If they really considered her so vital for the mission, they didn’t show it.

  Jillian looked over his shoulder. The dryad remained silent, sitting next to the fat engineer. Despite the terrible first impression, the man’s constant chatter had a calming effect. He seemed to be somewhat intrigued by the species, asking questions before going on long tangents about something completely different.

  Lights flickered on the edge of the platform, confirming the approaching ship had been cleared for landing. From there, three pathways of reinforced white marble spread out, connecting it to the surrounding structures. Finely crafted designs were visible on the edges, illustrating patterns and scenes of religious significance. Most architects would have constructed additional covers to keep rain and snow from ruining the delicate craftsmanship. There was no need for that here. Rain, storms, and bad weather had no place in this part of the planet. The Church’s will and the dryads’ powers ensured that the city remained in eternal summer.

  Iva emerged from one of the neighboring buildings, making her way to the platform. None of the guards dared confront her. One could almost come to the conclusion that they feared her more than the local patriarch. Interestingly enough, there was no sign of the colonel.

  As Jillian watched, all security guards in sight moved away from the end of the corridor, making their way towards the nearest building entrance.

  “What’s that?” Jillian heard Acacia ask.

  “They probably don’t have clearance to see the ship up close,” Radij replied.

  “Don’t tell me we’ll be flying on a prototype!”

  A new argument formed between the engineers, though Jillian wasn’t paying attention. An unexpected opportunity had formed before him. The boy took a deep breath and went forward onto the platform. With every step, dozens of possible scenarios played out in his mind. Would Iva snap at him for approaching without permission? Would she be condescending? Or maybe cold?

  Of all the strangers the boy had recently come to meet, she remained the greatest unknown. He could tell that she was as important for the mission as the colonel, but at the same time talked a lot less.

  Several steps from her, Jillian stopped. Eagerly he waited for her reaction, but it never came. It was as if the woman didn’t acknowledge his presence.

  “Apologies,” the boy said.

  Nothing changed. The woman kept observing the sky, focusing on the approaching ship.

  “Apologies, Sister. I—”

  “Apprentice,” Iva corrected without turning around.

  The boy held his breath. Things had already started off on the wrong foot.

  “Apologies, Apprentice, but wouldn’t it be better to put Silvena in a dryad capsule or at least sedate her during the flight?”

  No reaction.

  “Dryads don’t handle flying well,” the boy didn’t give up. “When it comes to space travel, there hasn’t been a case—”

  “What are you afraid of?” Iva turned around. Her cold, grey gaze pierced the boy.

  A mixture of fear and awe filled his mind. Part of him urged him to step back, while the rest insisted on not moving a muscle. Back in the hatchery, he had heard rumors that battle priests were different from ordinary people. Now he could see why. Merely standing next to the woman made him feel completely helpless, as if he were a mouse scurrying around the claws of a tiger. She could kill him on a whim, and there was nothing he or anyone else could do about it.

  “Are you worried that she might get hurt?” Iva continued. “Or that she might hurt you?”

  “I don’t want her to get hurt,” the boy replied. “She’s vital for the mission, so I don’t want it to fail because of—”

  “Are you calling the Orthodoxy stupid?” the woman interrupted. “Or do you think the Church made a mistake?”

  “No! Of course not!” Jillian felt his pulse quicken. “I just…”

  The woman raised her hand, indicating that he should stop. Several seconds passed in silence, after which she focused her attention on the distant ship once more.

  “There’s no reason to worry. This ship is different. It will be as if your dryad is back in the hatchery.”

  “But—”

  “That’s impossible?” Iva finished the sentence for him. “It’s not. See for yourself.”

  Jillian stared in the direction she was looking. Blue skies without a single blemish extended as far as the eye could see. Knowing that their ship was out there, the boy kept on looking. Then he found it—a small black dot just above the horizon. It had arrived faster than he had expected.

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  Quickly the dot grew to the size of a pea, then a grape. That was normal for ships. It was later that the distinguishing features would emerge, determining the type of vessel. Given the size of the platform, one could suspect that it would fall in the mid-to-large shuttle range capable of carrying up to a hundred people. Yet, no matter how close the ship got, its overall shape remained the same.

  A sphere ship? Jillian wondered.

  Spaceships had never particularly intrigued him, even if he could distinguish between the seventy designs used for dryad transport. Mother ships, seeding ships, specialized transit ships… everything that was remotely connected to dryads was considered obligatory learning material for everyone at the hatchery, humans and unnaturals alike. Yet, even he could tell that there was something very wrong with the thing approaching. The energy required to take it into orbit alone had to be unimaginable, and there was no perceivable reason to waste it on aesthetics. Sphere ships were few and far between and, above all, never intended to enter a planet’s atmosphere. Even children knew that. And still…

  Three sharp metal sections surrounded the main body of the ship, like tongues gently holding an egg.

  “Are you shitting me?!” A yell broke Jillian’s train of thought.

  Running as fast as his body would allow, Radij trotted to the edge of the platform. The few seconds it took to join Jillian and Iva had left him completely out of breath, but the man didn’t seem to care.

  “That… that…” he struggled, engaging in a tug of war with his lungs. “That’s a D-1!” he finally managed to say. “You seriously brought a D-1?” he grabbed Iva by the sleeve.

  The woman endured his action for several seconds, then pulled her arm free. In different circumstances, she would have gladly torn the man’s arm off, or at least broken a few bones.

  “You think too highly of yourself,” she said with her icy-grey gaze. “It’s a D-5.”

  “Remarkable!” Radij remained oblivious. “I never knew the D-series ever left the solar system. Even the baptized need special permission to see it up close, let alone—”

  “What’s the D-series ship?” Jillian interrupted. “I’ve never heard of them.”

  Deep inside the man wasn’t at all appreciative of the untimely interruption. Still, he gritted his teeth and smiled.

  “Only a few thousand people know of their existence,” Radij continued. “Arguably the most spectacular vessel in the Orthodoxy’s fleet. And the most dangerous.”

  Dangerous? Jillian looked at the ship again. He couldn’t make out any weapon systems, and the overall hull was minuscule compared to a standard frigate.

  “According to the historical archives, they were among the first ships built after the Reversal Wars. The entire terraforming program could be traced back to them.” The man brushed the sweat from his face. “Details are almost non-existent, but it’s speculated that it took seven holy conclaves and a considerable amount of military pressure for the patriarchs to approve their construction. Supposedly, the ships were meant as a reward for the unnaturals that helped humanity in their battle for survival. Officially, no one knows the exact number of D-series ships, but it’s speculated that there were close to a dozen planned. This thing there is older than—”

  “That’s enough,” Iva said in a warning tone. “Don’t discuss the nature of the ship during the mission… or after. Clear?”

  The engineer didn’t even have the will to nod.

  “Clear the platform.”

  Without a word, the apprentice went to the edge. Everyone else quickly joined her. Meanwhile, the ship reduced speed as it prepared to land. The precision with which it adjusted was too erratic to be AI, yet just as precise. The pilot had to be a veteran with years of experience. Roughly five meters above the platform, the vessel came to a full stop, then slowly moved down. A low-level hum filled the air—partially suppressed noise from the gravity engine. Given that noise-nullification standards had been a requirement for the last sixty years, the ship could well be as ancient as the engineer claimed it to be. Even so, its condition was close to pristine.

  Jillian wondered how much effort had gone into maintaining such a masterpiece. Everything from the atypical hull shape and the overpowered engines to the internal systems and software support had to be unique. Only Earth could afford such extravagances.

  “Get the dryad,” Iva told Jillian. “After ten minutes, we’ll be off.”

  “Ten minutes?” Radij sounded heartbroken. “We can’t jump off this soon. For one thing, the team lead isn’t here. Besides, it would be a waste if we didn’t get acquainted with the specs before—”

  “The colonel will join us shortly,” the apprentice said. “And you won’t need the ship specs for your mission.”

  Sweat covered the man’s face. Iva’s tone had remained level, but the slight edge to her words had made even someone like Radij understand how close he was to crossing the line. The others also paused, fearful of what might follow.

  In the silence, the oval body of the ship made a half turn, revealing a single large hatch.

  Jillian looked over his shoulder. Silvena remained at the end of the corridor, unwilling to take a step closer to the rest of the group.

  I shouldn’t have left you alone, the boy thought. Keeping her as far from the ship as possible was smart, leaving her completely alone in an artificial environment such as this—not so much. And yet, there was something alluring about the ship, tempting him to remain there for just a while longer.

  “What is it called?” the boy asked.

  “It doesn’t have a name,” Iva replied after an uncharacteristic moment of hesitation.

  “No name?” Jillian blinked.

  Every ship in the Orthodoxy was given a name. The ceremony was meticulously followed, including several priests and a team of engravers approved by the shipyard’s patriarch. Anything else risked shade corruption. Even members of the Corporate Hegemony spent vast amounts of money on “ship baptisms.”

  “This ship is different,” the apprentice went on. “It’s just—”

  “—the shell of its occupant,” a new voice said.

  Startled, Radij instinctively jumped back. Neither he nor anyone else had noticed the hatch slide open and reveal a woman wearing an old-fashioned battle-cassock. On the surface, she was merely a woman in her thirties with milk-white skin and raven-black hair. Jillian, though, knew that she wasn’t human even before looking at her. The melodic intonation, combined with the long syllables and the raw power hidden in her voice, made it clear that she was a dryad.

  Calmly, the adult dryad stepped onto the platform. The closer she approached, the more Jillian could sense the strength emanating from her. The creature was old—older than Silvena, older than any dryad Jillian had ever seen, possibly older than the dryads that had terraformed Eneah.

  “Sister Blaga.” Iva instantly turned in the direction of the dryad and bowed. “The crew was just about to go aboard. The colonel is…” the woman hesitated “…briefing the new security officer. Both of them should join us shortly.”

  “Make sure they remain in their quarters,” the dryad said in an authoritative tone. “I won’t have people scurrying aimlessly throughout my ship.”

  “Of course, Sister,” Iva nodded.

  The dryad’s gaze shifted from person to person. The calm, emotionless expression made it impossible to tell what was on her mind, though it was likely unflattering. When she got to Jillian, her attention remained on the boy two full seconds longer than anyone before. Then, just as unexpectedly, she looked down the corridor where Silvena was sitting.

  “Is that the little one?” she asked.

  “Yes, Sister,” Iva immediately answered. “Silvena from—”

  “She’s young.” The elder dryad crossed her arms. “Far too young to be part of this.”

  “The Orthodoxy is of the opinion that she’s a lot more sensitive, allowing us to spot changes in behavior a lot faster.”

  “A canary in a coal mine.” The sister sighed. “Who came up with the idea?”

  “The Orthodoxy is of the opinion that it’s our best option,” although polite, Iva remained firm.

  “At least some people in the Orthodoxy think so. Tell the colonel to hurry up. I don’t like this place. I’ll prepare the little one for the flight.” The dryad looked at Jillian once more. “As well as the boy. You take care of the rest.”