Chapter 13: 12: VISION

Ten minutes to zero. Talitha slid her sedasig device out of her jacket pocket and placed it in her mouth, the weight of it dragging the corner of her lip down. She took a furtive puff and the tip of the device glowed bright red. One little inhale—not of Purple Dot, just routine and regular shit that’d be legal for her soon enough. She closed her eyes against the calming rush as aromatic extracts flowed within the sedasig, tempering her lingering disorientation.

She sat within the garage of La Maria awaiting a service pilot who’d gone to fetch her holo-patterned multibike, a Kyanite model, from the underground hangar. The bike, popular among the elite students of Altir, was a recent splurge of hers, something she’d purchased with her own earned stipend money from Alitria—a prize that wasn’t granted to her as charity for an orphan. Though she owed more payments on her credit balance the Kyanite was still, officially, hers.

Changed from the party gown into casual gear suitable for piloting the lanes, she looked forward to a smooth ride in the skies. She lowered her dark navigation glasses over her eyes and concealed herself, inhaling a lungful of seda. Thumping electro beats, the hypnotic tribal sounds of Blood Fang’s song Taste For Blood, resonated within her ears and she bopped her head along to the tune, finally feeling excitement for the last major party before graduation. Everyone would soon separate to begin their adult career paths. This would be the end of it all.

Hesitation she’d felt after finding out Westmont was the chosen venue had eased to a nagging afterthought. She could argue her worry was just another symptom of her persistent insecurity, a sensitivity about the town because of her past. Like Ivan said, she too sensitive about everything in general. What happened there was nothing but a memory. Not even a memory of hers.

She sat alone at the kiosk save for the sole pilot still present logging service entries at a control station nearby. His colleagues aside from the one locating her vessel, he’d advised in their short talk during her wait, had left to make their duty rounds of inspecting the near-empty garage. Most of the party guests that had attended that night, including the Khelots and the Pendergasts, had already left, leaving the grand theater desolate. Jackal, the biggest scandal of the whole affair, had disappeared immediately after his performance, saying little to anyone and leaving the guests wondering what his swift entrance and exit had been about.

“Must’ve wanted to create theater inside of a theater,” the arbiter said once they’d discovered Jackal was gone without a trace, laughing with good cheer as she bid her guests goodbye and thanked them for their support. “He succeeded. But really—I couldn’t ask for more free attention right before an important election. Let’s be glad the showman made an appearance and did a good job of it too. This’ll be one for the history books. That hymn was unbelievable, and it happened here.”

Despite Jackal becoming the biggest news from the fundraiser, Talitha still managed to find a portion of the party’s coverage dedicated to gossip about her and about Adam. About a certain dance they’d shared during the memorial performance now blown out of proportion. Ovadia was fine with that story too, making jokes on the matter—”I wonder what color hair their children would have. Or eyes. What a thought. Let me be quiet before I humiliate them both.”—and the looping clips of Adam dipping Talitha low from various angles made her grimace. Nothing but trouble would come of the mess. Nothing. And now Spencer would say—

Well. It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t think about him or care what his crazed opinions might be. It was over. As he’d said, he didn’t give a shit about her. And Kalum—well. Kalum, of all people, friend to both her and Adam outside of what they shared, should be the first to understand.

The pilot signaled to Talitha. She paused her music and her rambling thoughts, glancing at him.

“You’re next,” he said, swiping his fingers through the projection displayed before him. “Just got the ping that the Kyanite’s up from the sub-level. I’ll fetch it for you from the transfer lift. Just a minute.”

“Thanks,” she replied with a nod. “Appreciate it.”

“You’re out late, Miss Morai. Looks like the Harvest rains are starting already. Take note.” The young man peered toward the open hatch door of the garage’s runway entrance. “It’s gray out there. Think I see mist.”

She smiled. “Typical. Wouldn’t be Harvest if it wasn’t dreary for Ascension. I bet the moons like that they make dramatic appearances too.”

“Ha. Maybe.” The pilot chuckled. “Bet you’re right. Anyway, be careful on those roads if you touch ground. Be careful in the skies too.”

“I will.”

“Be right back.”

She watched the pilot complete a final swipe against the projection before disappearing through a service door behind them. The silence of the garage’s entry portal magnified subtle sounds and building Harvest breezes whistled from where she waited. Rapid shifts in weather happened every year during the season, a natural change meant to cultivate new seeding by El-Akalut through several months of steady rain. Talitha knew what to expect since the changes happened like clockwork, though she still shivered whenever she felt the cold chill settle in the air.

Her mouth parted to utter a command and restart the music. The tune started before she’d made a sound.

“Hm,” she said.

She glanced at the COM and frowned. The display animated of system notices advised her that the music function had been activated…by her command. Well, she thought. Maybe she’d triggered something without realizing it. Somehow. Even though she’d deactivated touch commands to prevent those sorts of errors and couldn’t remember summoning the music by voice. The strange discrepancy might, again, be more of the lingering effect of the Purple throwing her off. If so…she’d never take the strain again. She couldn’t even tell if she were high or not. The drug would turn her mad.

“COM, stop music,” she said.

The music continued.

“Stop,” she repeated. “Music.”

The music played louder instead.

“Oh…come on.” She groaned. “Stupid COM. You really are the worst. The minute I can trade you in for an upgrade, I will.”

Her frown deepened.

Talitha glanced at the glow of light emanating from the open hatch door, wincing when the music played even louder through her jeweled ear bud. Blasted now, piercing her hearing sense with noise. She startled and hopped up from her seat, touching the bud, yelling at the device with force.

“COM—fucking stop!” she snapped, hearing a slight echo of her words in the metallic expanse of the runway as she tapped on every indicator point on the band. “Stop it. Mute. Mute everything—everything! Please shut up! Enough!”

The music stopped.

She paused at a sudden silence. A slow laugh erupted her chest.

“All right,” she said, studying the holographic flower-print band as the petals shifted in the light. “Just like that. Fine. Official now—this has to be the Dot. Otherwise I’m crazy. Plus…I’m talking to myself. I am crazy.” She sighed. “Shaken then corked. Better than candy, ol’ Rodi said…yeah right. Fuck you. Shithead.” She sighed and smoothed her hair with absent energy. “I’m talking to myself,” she muttered. “I have to stop. I’ll never listen to that idiot again.”

The ambiguous, synthesized system voice of the COM spoke smoothly to her through her ear bud, informing her that the network was down.

AUTOMATIC EMERGENCY STATUS ALERT: COM NETWORK OFFLINE

Emergency.

Offline…

“Huh?” she said out loud.

Before her eyes, the data that usually filled her COM display like the hour and weather vanished without warning. COM had never announced it was offline before because COM never went offline. Links through the network could be interrupted by many outside factors but the operation of the network itself…no. The core of the planet generated elemental ether and that ether provided the perfect medium for instant COM transmissions, both deep underground and to the outer reaches of the galaxy, if anyone would bother to figure out how to listen. COM issues could reach their worst around Harvest season due to an overload of ether overwhelming their technology, but…never this kind of malfunction.

“COM,” said Talitha. “Engage.”

She waited. Nothing happened.

“COM—engage,” she said. “COM—COM—”

COM. COM. COM.

Talitha scanned the runway again for pilots, too aware of her current solitude with a defective device. A scattering of people should still be present on the grounds even at that late hour after the close of the fundraiser, people like a few straggling guests and the remainder of the La Maria staff making their own ways back home.

Her attention skirted aside as the sunlit glow from outside rapidly dimmed. She studied the open hatch door and found stillness outside as well. Nothing moved, nothing stirred, as if time had stopped inside the garage. Her only clue that it hadn’t was that her heart was pounding hard in her chest. Why it was pounding…she didn’t know.

Heat stirred in her left ear, crackling from the bud. Her hand snapped up to touch the implant and she winced when a sharp, searing pain snapped against her tragus, singeing the flesh of her ear.

“Ow!" she cried. "Fuck!”

Her fingers scrambled to unlatch the piercing. She froze when low static emanated from the bud. A guttural rasping breath prickled her senses from nearby.

Someone or…something was right behind her.

She waited, not daring to move. Her heavy exhales continued as her heart thumped. She wouldn’t breathe and wouldn’t move a millimeter. Whatever it was hovered right next to her and she felt its presence near.

Or…she could be still be tripping off that Dot.

Purple Dot was doing this to her.

Fucking…Ivan. Worst of the worst sometimes. No clue what he was doling out to everyone with a grin.

Fucking…Dot. Fucking…Ivan.

She inhaled deep and slow, muffling her breaths so as not to make a sound, and listened to hoarse wheezing behind her. Chills raced through every nerve. The thing beside her was…choking. Grunting. Jerkily. Like a pig or some…beast. Something savage, crazed, and—

“Oh,” she uttered as it groaned low and deep. Her voice squealed—she didn’t mean to make that noise. The high pitched eruption had eked out of her chest against her will. “Oh,” she said again. “Oh…no.”

Dark Dots caused hallucinations. Purple Dot was causing hallucinations in her now now. She’d taken just a little but that was still too much—too much for her. The trip she’d started before the fundraiser wasn’t over. It was stronger than when she’d started.

The grunting stopped abruptly. An ultra-low voice formed words through her prickling ear bud, the sound rumbling down to Talitha’s belly. She stayed still.

Galusu…

Ina…bet giru…

Galusu—

Something touched her arm. She bolted forward, charging fast to anywhere. A hoarse and high shriek tore from her chest.

“No—!”

A hallucination. A hallucination. Dot caused hallucinations.

The presence moved. She turned her head. Another choked cry escaped her.

Shit!

A figure stood silhouetted in the gray of the open hatch door—a shadow. Something almost human but…not human enough. Taller than a man, with horns on its head. Sprawling horns. A rancid, burning stench flooded Talitha's nostrils the same moment she spotted the creature.

She gagged. The smell filled her and choked her. She stumbled to a stop, doubling over to heave, and static persisted through the ear bud in the form of more rasped, animal breathing. The smell—an oppressive odor of death and decay, of fire and char, and of ruin. It stifled.

Bile rose in her throat. She retched, clamping a hand over her mouth and swallowing the urge away as she forced her legs to move forward.

“Help!” she shrieked, choking on her panic. "Help me! Help me—! Help—"

Talitha slammed into a solid mass. She stumbled backwards and tightness enveloped her inside and out. An unseen force squeezed her arms and legs together and she fell, her body smacking hard against the ground. Her head knocked against the floor of the runway and she cried as throbbing pain pulsated through her skull in quick waves.

Eyes rolled backwards as she lay, dazed, until her horror—her terror—forced her to remember the unspeakable danger near. Through the corners of her eyes she saw the shadow standing over her and she heaved herself to the side, dropping onto her arms and knees.

“Help!” she shrieked again, dragging herself into crawl, forcing herself back to her feet and failing. “Help! Oh God, help me! Please! Oh—!”

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Through confusion and pain she spotted the open hatch door. She fell another time when she tried to raise herself off the ground, pain piercing through her skull.

Help!

She screamed again and again. No one was there to hear.

Help!

No help anywhere. She was alone. Trapped in the darkness with a…thing.

A voice—a person, someone outside of herself—spoke. Talitha seemed to hear it clearly even through the din of her cries and disorientation from her splitting headache.

“What’s wrong?”

“Help!” she gasped, dragging herself again to stand. “Help—it’s…it’s here!”

“What’s here?”

“Has—horns!”

“Horns?”

“He’s coming! Help me! Oh no!”

A relaxed chuckled followed. The laugh seemed to come through her COM bud though she wasn’t connected to anyone at that time.

“Settle yourself, little star. There’s no one here. No horns anywhere. Are you all right?”

That voice…she recognized it. Not personally but through media clips and interviews. Even in the song she’d been listening to earlier that night. The pain in her head…that disappeared as well. All of it, gone. Panting, she squeezed her eyes shut as the world continued to spin in haphazard pattern. The person speaking—it was Jackal.

Talitha forced herself to regain some control. She eased her eyes open into slits, peering at Jackal through blurred vision, and felt a physical blow once she fully recognized who stood before her with all her awareness. That man—he commanded millions of devoted fans all over Ipir and was known planet-wide for passionate diplomatic acts in the interest of war-torn natives as well as for Blood Fang. Maybe Jackal did leave her a little starstruck after all, though not as bad as Rumi. Or, maybe some of the starstruck effect she felt was due to the Purple in her system.

Tribal markings snaked over his tall and solidly-built body, the same type of ancient runes that were imprinted onto Kalum’s scalp. So many of them were imprinted on Jackal that his skin was barely visible, the color altered by the ink. They traced the features of his steeled face too, leaving him with the same permanently unsettling air he displayed onstage.

He offered her his hand and she accepted the assistance, her cheeks already fuming red from embarrassment. Her eyes scanned his tattoos quickly from the safety of her goggles before she slid them back, uncovering her eyes.

“Mr. Jackal,” she said with formality, a shake still evident in her voice as she drew back from his aid. “I thought you left already.”

“I also noticed I’m still here,” he replied, black gaze assessing her in return. “I thought I was gone too.”

“…Okay. I see. Well. Sorry about that—I hit my head kind of hard and it hurt.”

“Are you still in pain?”

“I’ll be all right.” She rubbed her scalp as she stumbled through her thoughts to find more to say. “I, ah…want to tell you that I’m a big fan of your music. I listen to it a lot. Taste For Blood’s really good, both the song and the album. You guys did a cosmic job with the synths.”

“Wonderful. Do you like dancing to it?”

“Aye. The beat’s stellar. Sounds great on the floor.”

“Great. That’s why I created the music. To entertain you all. To make you dance.” Somewhere in the swirl of dark ink she saw him smile. His teeth were polished, gleaming, and human. “It’s good to see a wildlander—a Vangrali—doing well in Union.”

“I’m not really a wildlander. I was born here, in Union. I’ve got Vangrali blood but…that’s as far as my connection goes. I’ve never been over there either, not even to Oasis.”

“Regardless. Your heritage remains. Both of your parents were native-born of the holy island, a nation as pivotal to Ipirian history as Qadasar bearing El-Akalut’s divine garden. You’re considered pure-blood and a full Vangrali, since your human tests are incapable of determining the exact percentage of your native-mix.”

“Aye,” agreed Talitha. “That doesn’t really matter, though. Just makes things harder for me here. I’d be more important in Union if I were pure-blooded human.”

“It’s important to me. To my—our—tribe. Something to be celebrated and venerated. Desired with great passion.”

“If that’s what…you think.” She shrugged, scratching her arm with some nerves. “I’m just grateful for it all. Vangral looks beautiful in the clips. I’m sure it’s a nice place to…visit.” She stifled a cringe. Vangral was the last place for a leisurely visit, remaining notorious for sectarian violence years after John Pendergast’s execution. “Um, anyway—you know, I’m really rude.” She extended her hand. “You left so fast after the duet with Kalum that I couldn’t meet you personally. It’s an honor. Let me introduce myself the right way. I’m—”

“Talitha Lynn Morai, aged seventeen atomic years, to be eighteen in five atomic months. According to your bio your mother was a biter and activated at the time of her termination. You’re currently a student at Cloverland Senior Academy and a graduating ward of the Pender-Pal Refugee Outreach program. A volunteer for Temple Altiria as well—earning your service credits assisting Union’s Unifaith directive within the sector.”

“Wow. Right.” She frowned at the influx of her own information from the odd source. “You know a lot about me. That’s all in my bio?”

“I’m sure you know a lot more about me. You must watch the feeds…follow the trends and the minutiae.”

“True. I guess.” She settled her rustling anxiety. Purple was still making her feel strange. “I probably do know just as much about you from all the media and could find out more from your bio. So can lots of other people.”

Jackal brought her fingers to his mouth, lightly kissing the tips of them. She retracted her hand as soon as he was done.

“Sorry…again,” she mumbled, averting her gaze. “Did I hurt you, running into you like that?”

“No,” he replied. “I’m more concerned about you. Shouting for help and crying like something was wrong.”

“I’m fine, Mr. Jackal.”

“Raia,” he said. “Raia M. Malmsey.”

“Raia?” she repeated.

“That’s my civilian name.”

“What’s the ‘M’ stand for?”

“It’s a secret.”

“Oh. Well. All right.” She nodded, peering at him and his markings once more. “Mr. Malmsey—Raia—it’s a pleasure. I really do like your music. I’m going to go see you on—”

She snapped her mouth shut before finishing her sentence. Even though she knew, he knew, and they both likely knew what the other knew…maybe the topic was too taboo to mention openly.

He took her hand again and felt her wrist without commenting, his stare boring through her.

“Your heart’s racing,” he said. “What did you see?”

“I…saw…” She scrambled to find a response that didn’t sound stupid. “Vermin. A centimouse. I hate those.”

“A centimouse,” repeated Jackal.

“Yeah. All those furry little legs…gross.”

“You mentioned horns. Centimice don’t have horns.”

“Did I say horns?” She laughed, her humor shrill. “I meant a tail. It had a tail.”

“Hm.”

She eased back from him again and stepped a pace away. “Thanks for your help. I feel like an idiot.”

“No need to apologize,” he said. “Our meeting was meant to be. That’s why we’re together now.” He flashed her his straight, polished white smile.

She pulled her riding jacket tight to her body as a sudden breeze whistled from the hatch door through the runway.

“Okay,” she said. “Well. The pilot will be here soon with my bike. I’m…going back.”

Jackal nodded. “Take care, Talitha. I hope you have the most pleasant of dreams. Maybe we’ll meet again soon.”

“Maybe.”

The wildland vocalist turned back toward the garage without another word, walking straight down the runway in the opposite direction of the hatch exit. Talitha watched the dark figure until he disappeared, making no effort to locate a pilot to assist him. She stood alone again after he was gone and wondered if the strange visions, smells, and sounds had happened at all. If Jackal had even been there, or if he was just another of her hallucinations.

A low sound of music pumped through the ear bud, same song she’d been listening to earlier, except without blasting volume. The bud itself felt normal too and the hot pain from before was gone. Her spoken command hushed the music without delay and a quick glance at the COM band revealed all of her displays and animations were back to normal.

The time now—ten minutes past zero. She sucked in a sharp breath. Twenty minutes of time had passed while she was tripping, or whatever the hell had happened.

The pilot at the kiosk waved her over when she looked in his direction, pointing to her rose-colored Kyanite. She touched her forehead and breathed slow to ease her racing heart, stabilizing herself further by taking note of all the real things around her.

Garage lights flashed to indicate another vessel was approaching. The pilot waved at her to get out of the way and she scooted to the side, stepping back onto the pedestrian walkway. She watched a sleek BlueBird cruiser streak past her toward the hatch door.

“There you are,” said the pilot, approaching her and meeting her halfway. “You disappeared for a while. Wondered where you went. Thought you'd gone to the loo or something."

"Disappeared…?" Talitha repeated faintly.

"Yeah. That's what it seemed like. You were gone and then just sort of…appeared on the runway right now, like out of thin air. Didn't even hear the service doors open to let you back in. Where were you?”

“Oh,” she said, glancing back at the opposite end of the runway where the path led into the subterranean levels. Where Jackal had gone. “Nowhere…I guess."

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