It takes almost thirty seconds for
anyone at HQ to realize what the alarm is even for. It used to be the
Closed Zones, the Dead Zones, then the Ruined Zones before people
kept trying to enter them. A void is space where everything that
could go wrong with war went even worse. No one knows what the wars
were about. Who fought, who died, who lost: all of it has been buried
in ruin and twisted space. No hyperlanes work, not even wormholes
pass through the Zones. We don’t know how big they are. Just that a
war happened, and the scars have never healed.
It has been five year since anyone even
approached them. The last one was a tour of certain problematics.
Generals. Rulers. The kind of people all too eager to fire weapons
but never be in wars. Seeing reality bleed into space changed them. A
few killed themselves, so the tour never happened again. Before then
was the same as now: scavengers. Idiots thinking they can find
something famous or amazing.
I slip into the shiftsuit and take off,
data trilling through my senses. No one is certain how long the new
model will survive. I have an hour, at last count. Get in, try to
save fools, get out. If they past the first zone, extraction isn’t
even possible to attempt. The suit projects images to approximate
what is around me as I dive in; actually trying to perceive the ruins
of space and time isn’t something anyone survives. Which means the
craft is flying in blind, attempting to extract anything
and bring it out.
That no one has
succeeded never stops the attempts. And people wonder why the Zones
ever happened.
The
shiftsuit bucks and twists forms around me. Holding steady against
what feels like the remains of a black hole. Also a white one,
gravitational and chronal distortions making anything else impossible
to even guess at. I make it
through that. The shiftsuit can make it through the first layer
intact. No idea who bankrolls the Zone Watch, but it cost more than I
ever want to know to even make the suits. The suit twists; I move
with it.
I don’t know many
other species that could even survive being inside this model; I make
a note to let HQ know, then pause as the shiftsuits datafeeds blink
out. Flick back on. The onboard AI is as primitive as it can be,
since normal AI would have their minds destroyed by this place as
well. The shiftsuit has gone white about me, when I didn’t even
know they changed colour. I move slowly, trying to find the source of
disturbance, and – air. Actual air. Gravity within accepted norms.
A pocket of reality, which shouldn’t be remotely possible.
I fall into it, and
there is a young man. Human, 14, just standing in the air and looking
out at the zones.
This is so far past
bad. I order the suit to disengage five times before it agrees and
lets me breathe the air. Breathable air, a field of real in the
middle of – this. And the human who registers entirely as human.
I say my name in my
native tongue, which I haven’t spoken in several centuries.
The human smiles
and responds in the name. Then offers his name. “You are not
surprised?”
“You are Jay, who
is Jayseltosche. No one – nothing else could be in here, the way
you are. You didn’t trigger the alarm.”
“No.
It will be triggered shortly. Even Time is broken here,” he says
softly. “The Powers that govern the universe have no sway in this
place. Neither can anything from Outside enter. It
will take thousands of years to heal, if it ever does at all.”
“It has improved.
The first zone –.”
“My bindings hold
there to an extent. In the rest –.” He sighs. “There have been
wars here.”
“I know. We
Hingari began many of them,” I admit.
“And others. A
galaxy was carved in half once. I was in a hurry, it was in my way.
Several attempts to kill me formed part of the Zones. I thought
containing it in one place would be safer. Instead it led to a
different kind of war.”
“Wars have been
fought against you; you have power unlike anything else. That is
known. That’s not the same as you fighting though,” I say slowly.
“An argument got
out of hand.”
No
boast, no laugh. Just a fact so alien I can barely grasp it. “You
can fix this?”
“I have begun so.
And finding your HQ as part of that end. Destruction is so much
easier than creation for me right now. But it has not always been
so.” And he holds out a hand.
And Jay is standing
there. Shorter, eleven, and looking rather exited. “You wanted help
with an adventure?”
“I do. I require
energy to fix – things.”
“Oooh.” And the
younger Jay turns and looks about. A slight frown touches his
forehead like something alien. “Wow. That’s a really hugey oops
you know!
“I do.”
“And some of it
wasn’t even an oops. But I can always do helpings!” And Jay
grins. Jaysel – no, Jay, at eleven, grins.
The shiftsuit
actually whimpers.
Joy. Kindness.
Innocent. Wonder. Power without corruption spills out, and the ruined
zones shake in response.
“You need to go
now,” Jayseltosche says.
Jay turns to him.
“But I’m confusled because that felt like unbindings a Jay would
never do!”
“And a Jay would
not. But you spent a lot of energy, and you need to return.”
And Jay waves to me
and vanishes between moments.
Jayseltosche
touches energy, and weaves it. Like lace spiralling through the
entire ruined zones. A wrapper that slowly turns a ruin into a
present. “That helps. It will still be centuries, but it helps.”
“Jay set the
alarms off?”
“He is – not
subtle, so yes. I am no longer what he is, so some of what he can do
was – necessary.” And Jayseltosche’s voice cracks a little.
I turn slowly,
toward a being so far beyond gods that we have no words for it. “You
are crying.”
“I am.” His
smile has an echo of the past. “It is – very hard to...”
“We
have a bar at HQ. And drinks. We
could share drinks and food.”
“I
did not wish you as a witness for that. Hingari can live a long time,
you can take many forms. I’d like the HQ to be run by you, and we
can meet for drinks when it is no longer needed and the Zones
healed.”
“We can, but you
need a drink now.”
Jayseltosche
blinks. It takes everything I have not to activate the shiftsuit and
bolt. I almost yelled at him. The laugh he lets out a moment later is
soft and sad. “I imagine I do. Very well.”
I return to HQ,
report it as an anomaly – trusting Jay will make sure my shiftsuit
agrees – and join him in one of the bars. He looks tired, and
younger than he is.
“I have heard it
said that nothing can be forgiven.” He glances over at me without a
word. “And I think there is some truth in that. The living can be
forgiven; the dead merely remain dead. I think there is no
forgiveness, but there can be redemption.”
“Perhaps.”
I don’t ask who
he argued with, or fought against. If it was himself or something
else. We share a drink in silence, each remembering different wars.
There are so many reasons the hingari hide now. I’d like to think I
understand Jayseltosche a little. And perhaps I do. But I think I
understand Jay not at all.
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