Chapter 2: It is Awake
Location: Absalom Station: The Spike: Level 22:
``Hey Geeks! No gamestream today. Everybody's got their side hustle, and I've got mind in the Ghost Levels! You know how weird tech gets in there, so no signals are getting out to the Infosphere, but I'll be back tomorrow to continue my playthrough of Space Fortress Z-95: Tri-shot! Like and Subscribe!''
One finger on the four fingered hand on just one of Geekona's six hands tapped the side of his comm unit, ending the recording. He barely looked at the device as another finger danced across it to upload the video to the Infosphere. His other hands were busy adjusting his shirt and pants for comfort and grasping his flashlight. The device had ``Ghost Tours'' prominently written over its bulky yellow frame in a dripping, spooky style of purple ink writing.
The skittermander took a moment to glance into a dead but reflective glossy black information panel, double checking his appearance before he would made his way back to the tour group patiently waiting further in the dimly lit corridor. Purple furred, save for the lavender ``mask'' of fur on his face, Geekona stood only a fur's length taller than your average ysoki. The skittermander were blessed with multiplication in their bi-radial symmetry. Two eyes, four nostrils and six arms were the norm for any of his species, and they had only one of just about everything else.
Geekona felt he had the good fortune of giving tours on a space station. He didn't have to change out into some white sunny hat and colorful palm covered shirt because he lived on a resort world, and didn't have to dress up for the cold because he lived on a frigid planet like Lajok or Triaxus. Here he could dress normally, with a few little charms hanging from his jacket to give the impression of talismans meant to ward off spirits. The jacket was zipped up to hide his Zo! T-shirt, and to complete the otherwise utilitarian look.
The tour group waited by a pair of large bulkhead doors with some in conversations with each other. Geekona almost rubbed a pair of hands together with delight at the group's size during this particular outing.
``Okay nufriends! We're going to begin our first steps into the Ghost Levels as soon as we pass through those doors. Take care and stay close to one another. No wandering off. There are things, and people, who never get found again when they enter the Ghost Levels.'' He gave a few seconds time for that to sink in and help build the mystery and suspense of the tour before giving a reassuring tone in his next statement, ``But Geekona's got you covered! I've been doing tours of this place for three years now! Haven't lost a soul...except the ones that want to get lost.''
He let the words hang yet again for dramatic effect as he took stock again of his crowd for a head count: A trio of vesk dressed as students, either of the Arcanamirium, a Starfinder Society science academy, or one of AbbadarCorp's business colleges. One dwarf and lashunta couple. And two barathu who's only apparel upon their floating blimp like bodies was a set of AbadarCorp business ties.
The last set of tourists caught Geekona's eye more than the others. The first was a VERY colorful shirren, who's robed outfit was already a gaudy mess of blue, gold and red, but on top of that clash, their own carapace was a vibrant azure color, while their unblinking multifaceted eyes were a brilliant amber. Geekona couldn't guess which of the three shirren sexes they might belong to.
The second, while less colorful, never sat still. They were a Pahtra who he couldn't remember had ever held still and seemed to take every step as though it were a dance. They were light on their feet in the extreme, and seemed curious about everything and everyone, but hadn't directly introduced themselves to Geekona yet.
The last was one, or two depending on how you counted them, was an Ikeshti, and what seemed to be their pet drone. Almost lost among the larger species, it was the presence of that drone, shaped like some kind of low-polygon mechanical four legged predator, that didn't crowd him enough to get lost among the larger species. He remembered advising the Ikeshti at the start of the trek to the tour's starting point that the Ghost Levels could do weird things to electrical and even magitechnical devices. The Ikeshti had given him a very fervent ``No!'' followed by a softer, ``It will be okay. I won't blame you.'' Geekona had dropped the subject after that.
Satisfied that his head count was complete, the skittermander approached the large doors and entered in a code on a buttoned panel on the side. Keys clicked, but nothing happened. Neither the first attempt or the fifth caused the doors to open. With frustration he mashed the panel with a palm and attempted to enter the code once more for good measure. He had to admit the malfunction enhanced the spooky nature of the ``Ghost Levels'' the tour would be going through. But, if the tour ended here he'd have to hand out a lot of refunds!
``Did you need help?''
The purring voice of the pahtra behind him made his own fur stand up on end. He didn't know when they got behind him, and he whirled about to face them, ``Nope! Just a...a minor malfunction. You have to expect that down here at the Ghost Levels. Tech will get weird.'' He tried to keep up both a jovial facade and the mystique of the Ghost Levels, but the pahtra was giving him weird vibes. The gray furred pahtra with white colored underbelly peppered with black markings made him nervous, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly why. Paranoia was beginning to sink in. Did they know he was running a scam? Was this some kind of sting from station security, or worse, the Stewards? What he was doing couldn't be THAT illegal, could it?
The pahtra's tone trilled as they twirled about in a dance-like fashion to get a better look at the panel the skittermander was trying to hide by shifting his large head, and standing up on the tips of his toes. They gestured towards it while saying, ``I think I might know the problem. Not that I like to snitch, but I'd like the tour! The ikeshti took it. A part of it, anyway.''
Worry about the Pahtra's intentions faded as the Skittermander looked towards the group of tourists, their red eyes seeking out the reptilian alien. The red scaled native of Akiton had the typical tough, lithe body and sharp pointed snout common to ikeshti. The bridge of that snout was painted with a series of white markings that Geekona could only guess were a symbol of their brood. Currently the reptile was examining a small box with colorful wires sticking out of it. While he wasn't very well versed in engineering, the skittermander was ready to lay down a stack of UPBs that the box had to be part of the reason the door wasn't working.
The frustrated Skittermander approached the group with a stomping motion at first before he found his cool. Apart from smart-ass tourists, the ones that bothered him the most were those that tried to pluck souvenirs from the aging station corridors. Some of those parts were still important, not just for his tour, but station functions!.
As he approached, Geekona cleared his throat and waved his flashlight to shine its beam a couple of times at the ikeshti, hoping to catch their attention. ``Excuse me, nufriend.'' His introduction was interrupted from an electronic growl that came from the drone at the ikeshti's side. It was larger than the Geekona and made him tense up as it gave its warning.
``Scav, no growling.'' The ikeshti said quietly before petting the mechanical creature as though it had tactile sensors.
It calmed the entity, and Geekona let his shoulders ease down. ``I'm afraid that's not a souvenir of the tour, but, if you'd like one, we'll have plenty when the tour is over! All authentic bits from the Ghost Levels!'' He considered grasping the device out of the Akitonian's hands, but he wasn't ready to start some drama with this group this early.
``This is a GK-33X four-way lock cycler. It is rare. We will need a component to trade with the Ghost Couriers, so they are amicable with us.'' The Ikeshti informed him.
Geekona folded two pairs of arms over their chest and stomach. This tourist knew their stuff. There were few except enthusiasts, like Geekona himself, who knew the small rituals that could get you in good favor with the Ghost Couriers, or at least gave a chance at not getting shot by them.
The skittermander pointed with an upper hand at the component, ``We need that to even BEGIN the tour. Sorry nufriend but we'll...have to use something else in my pack of stuff to trade with the Ghost Couriers. Besides it's unlikely we'll come across them, the way I'm taking you will take us clear of some of their usual haunts. Safety reasons, gree?'' It made his Ghost Level Tours always difficult when he got someone who actually knew something about the fabled liminal spaces inside the station. He had to put extra effort in to fool them, or hope they'd annoy the rest of the crowd enough with a know-it-all attitude that they wouldn't bother listening to them.
The ikeshti seemed reluctant to part with the device and the little skittermander could see a few looks crossing the reptile's face: Worry, concern, loss. Feeling a pang of sympathy for a fellow soul trying to make it by with what little they could scrounge out of the universe, fear for upsetting an ikeshti's challenging emotional balance, and the insatiable skittermander drive to be helpful, Geekona relented and held up four hands, ``Hey! You know what, just in case, you hold onto it!''
The ikeshti smiled with thanks followed by a bow of his head, hands pointed down to the ground. It was probably some akitonian expression of thanks, but Geekona didn't recognize it.
Another voice spoke up, making the skittermander jump slightly. He had to turn around again, this time finding the colorful Shirren standing at his back. ``I read that you `had the magic of the code' in your brochure.'' The insectoid was holding up the brochure with a small picture of Geekona on it, mid spellcasting. ``Wouldn't that be a better way to get us through?''
Geekona had hoped he wouldn't have to tap into The Code before getting deeper into the maintenance passages he'd mapped out for the ``Ghost Levels'' route. He only had so much energy and so much mind space to memorize those complex codebases. But if he wanted to get this tour going, and recapture the tourist's attention, the Shirren made a point that it seemed worthwhile.
``All right nufriends, It seems the Ghost Levels are playing their old tricks, but Geekona's got his own too!'' Turning towards the door once more, he lifted his comm unit with a hand and tapped away at its screen while holding out another hand towards the panel. A series of intricate lines of green energy, emitting at regular pulses, like binary digits, streamed from his hand and the device through the air and into the dead electrical panel. Despite it's missing part, the door panel lit up and the with a metal groan, the old door's hydraulics came to life and parted the metal slabs, revealing a dark corridor beyond lit with the occasional tube shaped wall lights that were still functional.
Geekona smiled at the applause that followed. The technomancer could at least take heart in a magical start to the tour to draw the crowd's attention.
``Please tip, please tip, please tip'' He whispered to himself in mantra.
The flashlight's beam pierced ahead into the near darkness while the skittermander waved a pair of free hands to summon the tour after him. ``This way nufriends! My magic's going to look pale by comparison to what you see in `Haunted Absalom!'''
Location: Absalom Station: Freemarkets:
Four strangers were beginning their journey, each for their own reasons. That they were strangers was a fact that began to bother Reddek. It wasn't that they didn't know one another that bothered him. Even the strongest bond of legend between Endrisarn and Dagovin began with them as complete strangers to each other. What he discovered was bothering him was that the nature of the job made things quite temporary. A days work, perhaps two, and they would have completed their task, taken their pay, and gone their separate ways. That would be no chance for him to form a long lasting meaningful bond.
The dragonkin realized he was being fatalistic again about his task, and tried to look at his surroundings to think of anything else. Trevelaxian would not have sent him on a fool's errand, and wouldn't have just sent him out here to get him off Triaxus and away from the Skyfire Legion...would he?
``Would it help to talk about it?''
The warm voice of the vlaka brought Reddek out of his thoughts. He hissed in a breath as he tensed, his steps faltering. ``How do you know what's on my mind?''
The vlaka chuckled. ``I can't read your mind if you're worried about that. But there are many senses that tell me much more than eyes would when reading a face. Your breaths seize from time to time. Your teeth grind quietly. Your steps falter.'' Kehdo moved to get closer to Reddek so they could speak more candidly amdis the din of the markets, ``Your mind is taking you away from where we are and what we're doing. This is dangerous for entering unknown territory, even for something as simple as salvaging a freighter.'' Kehdo stated insightfully. ``There are scents too, though I don't know many of the dragonkin ones for rumination. What is important is that we focus you here and now. Sharing your story could help.''
Reddek grumbled, ``Story. Am I an open book with tactile letters?''
The comment made the vlaka laugh. ``I've always preferred audiobooks! Come, feel free to tell me.''
``We just met.'' Reddek argued. ``Why would you want to know?''
``To help. Or to understand. Or just to hear another story. Any are good reasons. I've met only a few dragonkin, but have found them to be very open with their emotional states. You, on the other paw, sound like one who's trying to chase his emotions down and gobble them back up to keep them all inside.''
Reddek shifted his body to let a series of elf teens coming his way to pass him by while the group made their way through a narrower part of the mall. Here, street vendors had set up shops selling trinkets, ornaments, curios, and tchotchke. Reddek had to be more careful not to accidentally hit a stand, or collection of curios as he passed. He also had to stop himself as he passed a vendor selling artificial jewelry, his hand wishing to reach out and feel the large gemstones set into a necklace. He knew they were fake, but the draw of the appearance of such treasure was one inheritance from dragonkind he felt a stronger connection to.
``It's embarrassing for my kind.'' Which wouldn't stop any other dragonkin from talking about it, Reddek realized. Embarrassment was just another emotion to strongly express. ``I'm on a personal quest to...understand the bond.''
The vlaka gave a tone of understanding. ``Ah. The mercurial bond. Joxkal and the Twins of Aballon. Prexti's Seven.''
Reddek lost his pace and came to a halt, his jaw almost dropping open. His voice broken into a stuttering of questions, ``H-how could you know? Who? Joxkal? Prexti?''
The vlaka took a moment to register that the dragonkin's footfalls had stopped. He turned his head as he set a paw on a nearby booth to maintain his understanding of his surroundings. ``For most, the bond is something so natural and inevitable that they let it happen. There's little reason to question it. Those trying to understand the bond are those few who cannot make it hold, and find the bond lasts but a day. Of course. I'm sure at home you've only heard the tales of Dagosarn, of the greatest bond of the dragonkin Endrisarn and ryphorian Dagovin. The tales of the mercurial bond are...not as popular on Triaxus.''
Reddek moved quickly to catch up to the vlaka, facing him directly once more and no longer concerning himself with whether he was causing a traffic jam in the narrow passage with his bulk. ``Not popular? They're not told! The bond is like the weather, like our dragon ancestors, it lasts forever. It's not a common...thing to have this kind of deficiency. Some see it as a soul sickness. And any dragonkin wanting to enter the legion can't suffer from the mercurial bond. I didn't think there were any stories for anyone with it.''
The vlaka make a dismissive gesture with a paw, not at Reddek, but at the Triaxian community's lack of embrace of the variety of bondings, ``Of course. The big stories are all about that one special bond that's eternal and unending. Or it's about finding love by having the spirits of the bonded dead helping to bring their living partners together.'' Kehdo shuddered. ``So many trashy novels about that.'' The vlaka then gestured ahead. ``We'd better catch up with the others.''
Reddek began moving again, clearing the way for others to get around him as he followed Kehdo once more. His ruminations had come to an end as he pried the vlaka for more, his tone youthful, hopeful, and free from the premature aging his gloomy introspection had caused. ``Who was Prexti? Who were the seven?''
Kehdo began with the first names he had spoken, ``Joxkal formed a deep friendship with the Lashunta twins Serey and Risaz of Aballon, delving into ruins of the First Ones for treasures and mysteries both. He brought the treasure lust of Serey and the intellectual curiosity of Risaz into balance. Prexti was a pirate and the seven were rogues, thieves and scoundrels. She couldn't form a lasting bond, but she learned how to make a broad one. Working as one, in the space of twelve hours, they pulled off one of the greatest heists in...in...hmm.'' Kehdo touched a gloved finger to his muzzle thoughtfully. ``I think it was 218 AG. No! 281 AG. A kasatha was among the seven.''
Reddek felt lighter and heavier at the same time. That there should be someone whose mercurial bond made them a person of note was heartening. The matter of their piracy and burglary did dampen his spirits however. It would explain why it was not a common story told on Triaxus. Perhaps no one wanted to create a stigma associated with the mercurial bond and claim that it turned dragonkin into thieves and scoundrels.
There was always that other story about the twins to take heart in.
Wist and Vaniboso had stopped in an area of the Freemarkets near a gravity fountain, its waters racing up in helical shapes from floor to ceiling and back again. The ysoki was busy typing away on the hardlight display of her comm unit while the vesk had managed to make a quick purchase of a protein confection.
``Good news! I got a text back from my cousin. I've got us a nice, inexpensive transport out to the Armada and Julzakama's cargo ship. She's part of the ferry business down on level eight of an Arm. I promised her twice fare after our job's done if she prioritizes us.''
``Captain. Didn't you say you had a cousin in Little Akiton?'' Vaniboso asked with a puzzled look coming across his colorful face.
Wist made a gesture around her, ``I did. You aliens have too few cousins, or don't keep in touch with the ones you know well enough! I've got at least five cousins, two aunts and one brother here on the station! I've got a sister in the Diaspora. My mom and dad are retired on Akiton. My younger brother is still moving around the moons of Liavara. I've got a crazy uncle who's convinced there's some kind of way to convert the sludge on Aucturn into something valuable. Everyone's still surprised he's alive.''
``And you know all their names?'' Reddek asked, joining Vaniboso in bewilderment at the ability to keep in contact with such a broad family.
Wist smiled proudly, holding up a finger, ``And birthdays!'' Her smile did not last long as her dark eyes settled on the blind vlaka. Kehdo had his ears and face turned towards something she couldn't hear and it seemed to be bothering him. ``Kehdo. What is it?''
``A crowd, over there. Someone's preaching, but I've never heard the sermon.'' The vlaka strode toward the crowd as it began to grow thicker, curiosity seeming to draw him.
Wist shrugged and motioned in the direction of the departing vlaka. ``Our elevators are that way anyway.''
They began to hear what caught Kehdo's attention as they drew nearer. It was easy to recognize the proselytizing tone coming from up ahead for what it was. It was picking up in volume as the crowd grew, but wasn't amplified by magic or technology. Even as he heard it, Reddek did recognize any faith it was from.
``Hear it! Feel it! Something is coming! The star-child breaks free of its planet-womb! Repent, sinners, and leave your old ways behind! The time of its birth is nigh, and it welcomes us through it to be reborn! Emerge! Embrace your new self in a new life!''
Reddek's eyes found the preacher, a damaya lashunta with a masculine tone and religious trappings. The mix of species among the listeners were supporters and skeptics both. Hand painted signs and hardlight projections spoke of rebirth or new birth with several strange markings joining the Common letters. The skeptics had their comm units and datapads out, capturing recordings or taking selfies in front of what they figured must be the latest cult craze to come to Absalom Station.
Of the four, it was Vaniboso who had the greatest emotional reaction. The vesk pushed at the crowd to get closer to the preacher, and pointed an accusative armored finger in their direction. ``The last thing people need to hear is more empty promises of rebirth and renewal! You're just another scam trying to get bodies for your cause or credits on your stick!''
Wist touched a paw to her head, wincing and muttering to herself as the crowd quieted, ``Vani, we talked about the credstick metaphor...''
The lashunta scoffed and maintained a pious tone as he returned his own gesture towards Vaniboso. This one was an open and welcoming hand. ``Doubt will keep you in the egg. Fear will keep you from embracing the world anew!'' The lashunta's gaze then became intense upon Vaniboso, their antennae shifting in elevation. They formed a smile, though it did not appear to Reddek to be a kind one. ``And what point would there be to being born again, to live this new life, if we only lived it like the old one?''
The words seemed to latch onto something in the vesk. He pushed forward again, harshly this time, pressing into the backs of members of the crowd in front of him with a growing fervor that seemed to indicate a desire for violence. Wist caught the intent immediately, and grasped at the vesk's hand to try to slow him down. She gave a pleading look to the much larger Reddek for him to also restrain the vesk.
``Vani.'' Wist's voice, gentle at first, now barked in a sharp commanding tone which halted him in his tracks. ``Lieutenant! Let it go. That's an order!'' She shifted her head twice to try to indicate something. Both vesk and dragonkin looked in the direction and saw a pair of station security officers approaching with gold armored AbadarCorp private security. None of them seemed outwardly armed, but all looked like they meant business. ``I don't think they've got a license to preach here. Let's go''
The preacher's large sleeve was tugged by an attendee as the approaching guards were sighted. They were as swift to leave as the four from Little Akiton, and all lost sight of each other as they moved into separate hallways.
``Not one for organized religion, Vaniboso? Or did you have a bad experience with a cult?'' Kehdo asked after a moment of silence during which they had moved down a narrower corridor to a series of express elevators marked for different primary levels of the station. The interiors of the lifts were fairly large, easily accommodating the group, with an array of couches, and an advertisement display along one wall. They rode alone as the elevator made a minor jolt during its acceleration.
As the lift began its journey downwards, Vaniboso felt more comfortable answering. ``Bad experience. I got...caught up in the tales of the Battle Saints, the promised glory of Damoritosh!'' The vesk paced in a small circle, raising his fist to the sky as though imitating one of his drill instructors or a commanding officer from the Veskarium. ``It drove me to join the ranks of the Veskarium. It put me in a war I didn't want, and on the wrong side.''
The elevator ride after that statement was quiet and awkward. Reddek was introspective, trying to feel out what that must be like. He understood the want of belonging, being part of something that was your heritage. He felt a pain in his chest, a psychosomatic symptom of anguish, stronger than he'd expected. It startled him.
He was fortunately roused from it by Kehdo, who spoke up as though he dislike the quiet. ``I would wonder what would happen if we were to put you in an AbadarCorp board meeting.''
``Kehdo...'' was said in admonishing tone and timing so simultaneous it made Wist and Reddek, who were both the speakers, look at each other in puzzlement.
There was silence again, and Reddek reached towards his neck to draw out a locket on a chain. It was fashioned in the shape of the religious symbol of Weydan, and was a gift from his brother before his departure from Triaxus. He had insisted Reddek put his dolek, his shed scale from over his heart, within it, and that when he formed the bond true, it might have great meaning for the bonded partner.
For now it was a symbol of the religion that the dragonkin often flirted with, but didn't commit to, which in some ways he imagined would be fine with the god it was associated with. Weydan wasn't very judgmental, but wasn't quite as whimsical as Desna. Travel, community, exploration, were all aspects of the god that appealed to Reddek. He'd even visited a Weydan cruiser when it was docked at Zo, the closest thing to a Weydan temple, and had plenty of time to talk to the crew. It had been a positive religious experience for him, because unlike a temple of Iomedae or Sarenrae that would sit him down and talk to him about the virtues and edicts of the deities, the faithful of Weydan showed him how piloting the ship worked, and spoke about interstellar navigation, or the wonders they'd seen in the Diaspora, Near Space, or even The Vast.
``Not that I'm mad at followers.'' Vaniboso said in a quieter tone. He was eyeing Reddek and the locket the dragonkin was fingering with an apologetic expression. ``I hope Weydan doesn't betray you.''
``I don't think Weydan would.'' Reddek answered, smiling to show he didn't hold any grudge for Vaniboso's strong feelings.
Kehdo's ears flicked in confusing, ``Don't think Weydan would what?''
Dragonkin and vesk fixated their gaze on one another as a feeling of understand simultaneously washed over them both.
``We're bonded.'' Reddek thought, the words telepathically filling Vaniboso's mind.
Any further discussion on any matter or contemplation of its repercussions came to a sudden halt, as did the elevator, shaking the four from their footing. Wist had to reach out and grab onto Vaniboso to keep herself from falling over, and the vesk almost dented one wall as he put a hand out to catch himself, finding it caught by Reddek's own to stabilize them both.
``Did you push something?'' Vaniboso asked, looking towards Kehdo who was standing near the control panel.
The vlaka shook their head, then touched the panel with intention, feeling out the tactile hardlight letters. ``The emergency stop hasn't been pushed.''
The lights in the lift began to flicker. Reddek raised a palm and encouraged his stellar mote to come forth. The ball of bright fiery-orange light helped create a steady glow amidst the flickering illumination.
One after another, all of their personal comm units began to buzz with pulsing high pitched warnings as the local Infosphere sent notifications of an emergency condition affecting the station. Wist raised hers to read the text. ``Station wide emergency?'' She said in puzzlement. ``Power fluctuations. Remain indoors...oh gods...'' She tapped hurriedly at the volume control as the pitch and volume of the emergency notification began to grow in intensity. None of her efforts caused the volume to decrease.
Reddek felt the vibrations of a thump at his right. Kehdo had fallen to his knees, paws gripping his head hard against his ears to block out the sound. He shouted loudly, desperate to cry out over the volume of their comm units. ``Please! Stop them!''
Despite their fidgeting and furious tapping on the hardlight screens, none of the remaining three could stop the devices. The displays were beginning to glitch, with symbols and texts unfamiliar to Reddek.
Wist could no longer aid them, and her comm unit fell from her hand. The devices had reached a range that were beginning to hurt her own large ysoki ears and she gripped her head like Kehdo as she leaned against the wall for stability.
In desperation, and hoping for forgiveness, Reddek took Kehdo's comm unit from his chest pocket, held it by two of its ends, and with a grunt of strength, snapped it in half. The circuits inside were severed of their connections and the battery was rendered useless in a shower of sparks. He continued this feat for his own comm unit, leaving the scraps of both on the ground. Vaniboso was mimicking his effort, shattering his own comm unit with one gauntleted hand, then smashed the metal heel of his heavy boot on Wist?s comm unit, almost shaking the whole elevator car as the sounds were silenced abruptly.
The group's ears still rang with residual but slowly healing damage to their auditory organs. While Reddek and Vaniboso were rubbing the sides of their heads, having had the most unfiltered but least sensitive exposure, Wist moved to stand by Kehdo's side. The vlaka was gently patting at his pointed ears, rubbing them on occasion and trying to avoid the desire to rub within them to claw out some deeply buried agitant.
Wist took one of his paws in her own then used a painted clawtip on her other hand to trace symbols over Kehdo's paw. The vlaka paused as he felt the touch, then replied. ``I'm okay.'' in a voice with more volume than he likely intended. ``I can hear, but the ringing is agitating.'' There was a moment of surprise in the vlaka's voice as he asked, ``You know tactalk?''
``Just enough to ask if someone is all right.'' Wist admitted. The vlaka tactile language was most often used for more intimate or quiet discussions among those of their species who were both blind and deaf, and even those who were neither. Wist was glad for the smattering of words she knew in many languages, and vlaka sign and tactile language was also one of them.
As the group had just gathered their wits, a rumble was felt passing through the floor along with the sound of creaking metal over the residual ringing in their ears. Vaniboso was poking at the elevator's control panel, trying to get the touch display to function for floor selection. Reddek attempted a more physical means of escape by wedging his claws into the seam in the doors and attempting to force them open with his strength.
``Reddek, I think your light is bright enough.'' Wist commented as she tried to shield her eyes from the light overhead.
``I'm not brightening it! Solar motes don't work that way.'' Reddek looked for the source of the light, even snuffing out his stellar mote in order to help locate the source. All around them light seemed to gather and grow. Bright, white and enveloping, no single source could be seen for the light as it engulfed them. The last thing Reddek could make out in the blinding glare was Kehdo, still seated on the floor, kicking his legs and scurrying backwards, as if away from some danger leaping at him.
The dragonkin felt like he was elsewhere. His feet didn't feel moored to the floor, but he didn't feel like he was floating either. The ringing in his ears had stopped, as had any other noise. He turned about in the glaring light to find any changes. No matter where he looked, how he blinked or closed his eyes, the vision of white would not go away.
A shape appeared, a silhouette within the oppressive light. It was a mass of form and motion, blurry to the point of seeming like nothing more than a vague blob with shadowy pseudopods. It slowly began to gain definition and Reddek realized this was only because it was approaching him, and fast!
Reddek summoned forth his solar weapon, ready to strike and defend himself, fear growing into panic, almost unnatural in his head. Sound returned, like whispers, the grinding of metal and the slithering of a million snakes. The furious beating of his own heart thudded in his ears with the cacophony as the image resolved into a mass of tentacles reaching out towards him.
``IT IS AWAKE!''
The dragonkin didn't know if those words came from him, or from it, or from elsewhere. He struck at the form as it neared him, feeling the blade of solar energy slicing into and through something solid!
The light faded and despite its blinding nature Reddek found himself easily adjusting to the new, dimmer light in the elevator shed by his stellar mote. Additional light shone from his solar weapon, grasped in his hands. The dragonkin's eyes traced over a cut he'd left in the doors of the elevator, as well as its control panel which was now shooting sparks. Vaniboso had fortunately yanked his hands away in time so as not to have them severed by the solarian's powerful blow. It may have been only thanks to the bond that the vesk knew the dragonkin's instinctual intent with time to save his limbs.
``Sorry.'' The apology was heard and felt by Vaniboso who Reddek could feel was struggling with the newfound bond. Part of him was mad at Reddek, and the bond helped him understand it wasn't the dragonkin's fault.
Whether it was the damage Reddek had done to the elevator and its control panel, or a cause from elsewhere, a fault seemed to have triggered in the elevator's mechanisms, for it began to abruptly descend again!
As the four felt their feet leaving the floor of the elevator they knew this was worse than a simple quick ride down into the bowels of the station. They were in free fall!
Location: Absalom Station - Unknown:
This was probably the fourth mission Riia had been on when things hadn't gone according to plan. There was that freak accident leading to a crash on Castrovel. And then there was that time they bumped into a Hellknight citadel in the Drift. At least one of those two missions had the fortunate turn around of leading into a temporary but beautiful romance. This was turning out to be far more like the third mission of their unfortunate experiences in the Starfinder Society, the one where they opened a strange bit of First One's tech on Aballon.
Riia had never actually been to the real Ghost Levels before now. They imagined that if they hadn't had the unique abilities at their disposal, their connection to the rhythm of space and sensitives to magic, a lot of the nuance of the Ghost Levels might have skipped their notice.
For everyone else there were the more prominent and obvious anomalies. Ever since the vision of light and tentacles, they had begun to move more slowly than before. Even their tour guide seemed quite nervous between bouts of bravado and deceptive certainty.
About a half hour of walking through tunnels that either emitted strange creaking noises, or that literally twisted in a corkscrew pattern and yet maintained their gravity, they came across what they thought was a puddle on the floor. This assumption that it was a liquid puddle turned into a supposition that it was a mirror instead, albeit one of the irregular shape of a spilled fluid akin to mercury. The vesk students were arguing about it from a scientific point of view, while the Dwarf admired his beard's grooming through the reflection. The surface, whatever it was, reflected everything with perfect clarity. No dirt, scratches or other surface blemishes marred the reflection.
Geekona maintained the experience of the tour with remarkable improvisational ability, or he really knew what the strange reflective surface was. ``Uh this is the...the...I think it's a reality mirror! A piece of possibility that the Ghost Levels is reflecting! They say if you give a wish into the mirror, you can grant it to your other self in another reality! And a year later, if they return, they can make a wish for you! Uh, please no touching. We don't want to get any fingerprints all over an artifact like this.''
Geekona looked around quickly, then with a sigh of relief seemed to spot a room through an open doorway. The room's interior seemed better lit than the corridor they were standing in, and had a few old crates and even a couple of benches that would seem adequate for resting on. ``We'll take a break in there for just a minute while I...double check our map and make sure we're still good on our route.''
``Mr. Geekona.'' One of the barathu raised a tentacle while the group was departing, ``Why doesn't it reflect the shirren?''
Riia looked and realized that the Shirren who was staring into the reflection gazed at nothing on the other end. They took a soft breath to maintain their composure and moved a paw beneath their armored coat to rest upon their concealed arc pistol.
The shirren placed their hands together, rubbing them nervously as it spoke to them with telepathy, ``Oh! T-t-this is a...t-temporal disentanglement.''
Riia didn't know that a stutter could be telepathic, and it certainly conveyed great nervousness. Their grip tightened upon the weapon at their side as they spoke their next words with a careful purr. ``Vampires also lack reflections.''.
The shirren chittered ``T-t-true, but that is for physical mirrors, not a...a um...reality mirror. I think I d-don't exist in this other reality.''
Riia was wondering if their mission was more on track than they had thought. It was possible that it wasn't the tour guide who had nefarious purpose, but the shirren.
Geekona stepped between them to try to ease tensions. ``There's lots of things that don't make sense in the Ghost Levels nufriends! But it's not dangerous right now. Look.'' He reached down towards the surface of the reflection. The rumors and tales of a reality pool were part of the Ghost Levels he'd read about. Unlike some of the other tales it was less believed and never encountered, nor mentioned by the Ghost Couriers. His hand and that of his reflection were now almost touching.
The shirren reached out in warning. ``I wouldn't...um...j-just in case-.''
The mirror Geekona's hand reached out from the surface, if any surface existed, and wrapped its fingers around the real Geekona's own, interlocking their hands! Geekona, and his reflection, yelped in unison. Geekona freed his hand and fell backwards on his tail in recoil.
After landing on his backside, the skittermander scrambled to his feet, staring down at himself once more. Like an eye, the pool began to blink closed. In the moments before it did, the other Geekona shouted, ``Find some friends! Make lots of credits! Save Little Akiton!'' In a moment the `eye' of the pool had snapped shut; vanished, as though it had never been there.
Mutters went through the entire tour as Geekona absently rubbed at his tail, sore after it bent wrong when he landed on it. Had his other self just made a wish? Gulping almost audibly, he now ushered the group in the direction of the storage room, ``Important rule nufriends! Don't touch anything while we're here. There are...lots of mystical forces at work and their reactions can be unpredictable! Uh, lets go ahead and get to that break room for snacks before I start guiding us back to the Freemarkets!''
The collection of alien beings made their way towards the lit room. Some were giving mutterings of refunds. Others conversed about the images they'd seen an hour ago. The light, the tentacles, the sensations of breaking out of an egg or weird memories resurfacing of being born.
Geekona remained where the mirror had been, rubbing a couple of hands over his stomach. It brought Riia to a laugh, easing the tension they had felt rising in them. The poor skittermander seemed to be expecting his skitterwhelp stomach-mouth to make a reappearance. This was followed by a gurgle instead. The tube of teeth didn't make its appearance. He caught the laugh and scowled at the pahtra.
``You're doing well.'' Purred Riia in apology, admiring the skittermander's efforts to maintain calm and the ruse of their Ghost Levels tour at the same time.
Geekona's face scrunched in consternation and air huffed from all four of his nostrils. ``Who are you? You've been giving me the `I know what you're up to' eye the whole time.'' The skittermander glanced to the company of tourists to be sure they were out of earshot, before talking in a quieter voice. ``You a cop?''
Riia trilled a light laugh. ``Riia Rawahrl. And no, I'm not a Steward or station security. But the Starfinder Society is working with them on this job. They sent me to find out about disappearances. People missing...some winding up dead. There's all kinds of rumors: Corpse Fleet ``recruiters''. Vampires. And...missing in the Ghost Levels.''
Geekona gasped and then fidgeted with four hands hastily. He looked to the shirren who was gazing back without judgment or ill intent, but great curiosity. ``H-hey. This is a private conversation.''
``Oh no. Don't dismiss him yet, I need to check something.'' Riia pranced their way towards the Shirren's front, then held up a paw, ``Do you consent to a healing spell?''
``W-what? Why a healing spell? Oh! Oh yes, yes p-please.'' The shirren had halted speaking telepathically, and instead stood with hands clasped together before Riia, appearing as nonaggressive as he could.
Riia raised a paw and quickly sung a spell before touching the shirren's chest lightly. A glow passed through them that brightened their already almost iridescent carapace. While being without injury, the spell born of the energies of Creation's Forge gave a feeling of surging vitality.
``Not a vampire.'' Riia said with certainty, knowing that life giving energy should have done the exact opposite. ``But probably a prismeni.''
``Y-y-yes! Exactly!'' The shirren looked relieved, ``Oh um...Plexus, uh, pleasure to see you again...for the first time! Excuse me.'' The Shirren looked flustered and shuffled their way in a hurry towards the rest of the group.
Riia turned their attention to Geekona as the shirren departed, moving on light steps towards the skittermander, ``That leaves you.''
``H-h-hey!'' Geekona raised four of their hands in defense, picking up Plexus' stutter and nervousness like an airborne infection. ``Look, nufriend. I...we're not even supposed to be in the REAL ghost levels!'' He sucked in a breath and then spoke more quietly as a passing look from the ikeshti, who'd seemed to taken up position at the door like a guard, made him self conscious. He began to whisper to Riia. ``It's supposed to be just a tour through some creepy looking old halls on level 22. I've got an agreement going on with the Level 21 Crew over it. They keep it clear of people camping out and I give them fifteen percent. People get a nice safe tour and nobody gets hurt and I cast a few spells to enhance the mood. Harmless, gree?''
It was Riia's turn to fold their arms over their chest as they appraised the skittermander's tale of what seemed like a very mild con. They had to agree that it was responsible of them not to subject a tourist to the actual Ghost Levels. Besides, any entry into the Ghost Levels that was reliable enough to enter on a regular basis was either a deeply guarded secret of the Ghost Couriers or station security. In all likelihood this tour had accidentally entered the Ghost Levels, and that vision they all shared had something to do with that transition.
``I can say you very likely aren't responsible for the missing persons cases.'' They moved about Geekona in a light skip then peered closely at his face. ``Probably.'' The tease had the skittermander gulping. Riia relented, saying. ``Those are scared eyes. They're worried about a reputation, a payday, and the lives of the tourists.'' They weaved away from him and glanced one way and another down the corridors near them. ``It's more important that we get everyone safely out of the Ghost Levels now. Gree?''
``Gree! Please, do you know a way out?!'' Geekona asked desperately.
``No. So after a rest why don't you continue the tour, to keep spirits up.'' Riia hopped over where the reality mirror had been, and landed lightly in front of Geekona again. ``I'll be your eyes for any more freaky things and exits too, and recruit Plexus for some help. He's not the kidnapper I was looking for but there's still something about him.''
Geekona looked relieved and nodded their thanks, ``Please.'' The skittermander permitted his tense shoulders to ease down and slump off some of the tension. ``I better get out the snacks.'' The skittermander's stomach rumbled in agreement, and the embarassed six-armed being hurried towards the storage room and his tour group.
Riia moved to one side of the wall to another in a light prance. The motions were agile and beautiful but did have their function as well. They were checking the corners and halls outside of their little shelter, the motions landing them behind cover and against bulkheads or the various industrial pipework that lined the large corridors.
Finding a rhythm here, in the ghost levels, was no easy feat. They felt almost cut off from Meyel's wondrous rhythm here in these twisted spaces. They'd never quite gotten the knack for hearing the un-sung notes or finding order in the chaos of discordant notes.
In some ways they guessed that the tourists probably felt similarly in their own way. Each had been checking their comm unit over and over, cut off from the upper levels, and the station's Infosphere. Geekona had been doing it every two minutes with a free hand. None of them had managed to create a connection. They were isolated from the familiar. And if this were truly the Ghost Levels, then they could be either a few hundred feet, or a few hundred miles away from any exit.
``It is awake.''
The words stirred Riia from their musings. They listened intently and heard them again only a few seconds later. The sound of the voice was artificial in tone, and simple as well. They drew their arc pistol in anticipation of danger and made a weaving low motion to stride towards an opposite wall. Peering down the corridor they saw a set of small maintenance robots coming their way.
Round in body and propelled by a twin set of treads attached to a gimbled bottom frame, the maintenance bots seemed to be performing their expected task. They had stopped to take a panel off of one wall by using their welding torches. More interesting was the behavior that followed. They reached into the open conduit the wall had exposed and grasped a series of wires in unison. Energy arced from the exposed wires into their bodies, making their indicator lights shine more brightly, and their voices grow louder.
``It is awake. IT IS AWAKE.''
This was enough to make Riia's fur stand on end and know that there was more than likely some danger. They began to retreat but in their hurry, kicked a loose section of discarded piping, making a loud clattering noise. Their ears flattened against their head, slitted eyes wide as they watched for a reaction from the robots.
The reaction came quickly. Together the robots released their hold of the energy conduit and aimed their welding torches in the pathra's direction.
``IT IS AWAKE!'' Was their only warning before opening fire with streaks of super-heated plasma.
