THE GALAXYMBION ODYSSEY

“Relax whilst our souls merge, Imari.”

His left hand pulsed alternatively transparent and solid, pink glow expanding from his palm. “You take the first steps into Thirdlife.”

Her thoughts retreated to a far distant past when space travel was in its infancy and propelling yourself by hand through a zero-gravity spaceship was commonplace. Impressions and images from Mirek pulled her through concepts and times, places and experiences, on a kaleidoscopic voyage. She understood everything that he had witnessed since Kytonia had launched him on a new cosmic destiny. She understood reality better than ever before and could see what lay ahead for her and Mirek. She could even see how cosmic destiny would have suffered if his path had never been altered by The Brethren.

Now new thoughts coagulated in her spirit, transmitted by Mirek’s deepest self; “join me in Thirdlife, and we can show our people and The Galaxymbion an evolution they only dreamt of previously. Nivas never really left us; they simply became detached. Their connection can now be restored through Kalmek’s Web; they are our exo-spirits, linked symbionts that merge with us once more. Our destinies on Kolda-ra will achieve fruition, their zenith, nirvana.”

“Is this truly possible, Mirek?”

“Join with me, Imari, and you will know this.”

“How can I join with you, when you are of the spirit and I am of the physic? I have missed you, as a part of myself, since that day on Kytonia. For me there was only emptiness, even when your higher destiny was revealed. Our Triumvirate advised me of your temporal importance, and I understood that history made for you a wife and son in a different time frame. What can I do now, joined with you in spirit, when already you are someone else’s destiny?”

“Rilmuta and Aramek cannot join me yet in thirdlife; it is not their place or their responsibility. Thirdlife needs you, gentle Imari. I need you. Hold my hand and make the journey with me. Join your spirit with mine and we shall defeat The Creators together. Our macrocosm will be whole again.”

“What are they? Gods? Makers of life and universe?”

“Almost. They and the universe build each other. It is true, Imari. Photocosms contract and expand through time and space, the fifth dimension contracting and expanding with them. It is not always proportional, and such is The Web of Kalmek. It is, however, correct for consciousness to be reflective of cosmic order in which it exists and upon which it is dependent. When that happens a correct balance manifests; fully integrated conscious beings that guide and monitor the lesser dimensions, resolving anomalies. But thought-capable biology, proceeding from The Makers’ ambivalence between creation and destruction, was a mistake. Their erratic creation at the microphoton level made it possible for smooth and meaningful consciousness to degenerate into mindless anarchy, unsynchronised with the other dimensions. Its deficiency is what we call entropy; the enemy of intelligence and virtue. That is what happened, Imari. They made all life possible but allowed it to become conscious without being synchronised with reality.”

“So, all the primitive and belligerent species are their fault, for having made them incompetently? We will need to destroy The Creators and re-synchronise all conscious life that failed to find its own way to virtue.”

“Yes, Imari. If you merge with me we will become one mind, one soul, twice as potent. Together we can prevail against entropy and liberate the macrocosm from it.”

“I am ready, my beloved, but I am scared.”

“I understand. Hold my hand, so that I can alleviate your fear.”

There was no sensation that Imari could perceive, just an impression of intensity. Intensity of existence; yes, that was it. She was drifting in a sea, floating in an atmosphere, awake and asleep at once. She had lost her feeling of gravity yet sensed its subtleties all around. Her soul was touching existence directly; everything was sight and sound, touch and scent, the passing of time yet suspended in timelessness.

“What is this place, Mirek? I feel nothing, yet sense everything. I am light as air, delicate as a cloud yet strong with existence.”

“This is Thirdlife, gentle Imari. Here there is no need for form or coalescence. We are as we were intended to be; thought adrift in the ecstasy and beauty of existence. We are not of the body, unless we wish to be temporarily.”

“We are travelling, my love. Where do we go?”

“Where and when, gentle Imari, you will see soon, but focus on your form. We are about to enter a planetary atmosphere, rather suddenly. The clouds are of pink hue and it is how we shall be.”

2770/2019

And so there it was; air and vapour swirling around in beautiful striations. Mirek no longer looked as a person, but as a spherical gaseous globe within a larger cloud. Imari thought she had no eyes any more, yet still could see his transformation. She concentrated her energy on copying this transfiguration.

“Yes, you are now ready, gentle Imari. Wait here and analyse my movements and actions; our purpose will become clear to you.”

Mirek effortlessly ejected from the cloud and carved a path through the sky with power and elegance. Imari saw him stream towards an old Carina-Class starcruiser. Imari now knew where and when she was; Kolda-ra during orbit 2770. Starcruiser Aurora of Octaladon; an excellent practical gift from the Galaxymbion on achieving Primal Nexus status. This was Ambassador Uexin Gurss’s official interstellar cruiser, visiting Kolda-ra so that he could personally present his world’s petition for annexation. “Come now and join me,” Mirek called to her.

“Are you okay, TI7?” the Ambassador asked, puzzled by his robot’s concentration on some invisible middle distance.

Its reply was equally peculiar; “please forgive what I am about to do, sir.” It pushed him hard, sending him across the deck in a heap. Fear being what it is – the saner half of panic – the Ambassador managed to break his roll against a console, though the argument between inertia and matter was painful. He was about to launch into a suitably spiced menu of insults when part of the dome’s plastiglass shattered inwards, showering the observation platform with fragments which slowed and stopped still in space. The robot had probably saved his life, he thought, but he could not see where it was due to a flare of pink light hovering motionlessly in the dome. A second flare crashed through the protective translucence, producing another lethal rain of slivers powered by a substantial force of inrushing air. These shards also slowed and ultimately froze.

Struggling urgently, Uexin secured himself firmly against the console and tried to stand. “TI7, where are you, you murmuring metal misfit?” No answer, and no sign of the robot. “KX, emergency energy barrier, observation dome.” No answer. The flares, crimson pink in this world’s dawn light, glided around smoothly, as if scanning items of interest. They paused in mid-air as if contemplating what to do with the Ambassador, then with calculated speed shed an expanding glow over the wrecked plastiglass. The viewing dome returned to normal, its air supply as still as it had been before this peculiar incident. “What are you?” Uexin asked somewhat rhetorically. He expected no answer.

“What we are, is unimportant. You are in extreme danger when you land on Kolda-ra. Heed this warning, Ambassador Uexin Artima Gurss of Octaladon. Destruction awaits.”

“We mean you no harm, Ambassador,” the second flare added, giving Gurss an impression of femininity. “Your colleague Lekra is a Glane spy called Syhe Alderhin. Her form has been chemically and biologically altered to pass as one of Octaladon. She is an assassin using technology from her world’s future and will seize her opportunity at the Copper Vanadium singing caves of Kerini-i, just outside Tirian Citadel.”

“What should I do, apparitions?”

“Tell Huwain Navin. Time’s circle must remain complete. The assassin is to believe her mission successful.”

The disembodied voices fell silent and the two flares vanished. All that remained of their visit was their pink glow ‘shield’ holding the translucence together. The plastiglass shards wound backwards through time, returning the observation dome to its original state. Uexin Gurss pushed himself away from the console and stood unsteadily. “KX”, he shouted into the air, “status.”

Tirian Citadel 2770/2019

Jen Taro and Mirek Olara had just returned from the Interworld Conference Centre, looking forlorn. In particular, Jen seemed on the verge of emotional collapse. Her husband held her lovingly in a reassuring hug, whilst dropping his cloak on a chair.

“Will we ever see our son again?” she asked plaintively, in a shaking voice.

“That is impossible to predict, my love. According to Aramek Skane he has not been harmed; the glowsnakes of Kytonia have reassured our Triumvirate of this, as well as Captain Lantt who commanded the Aldebaran. Aramek is a good Prefect and she knows how we must feel. She would not hide anything from us.”

“I know, my husband, yet how can I rest not knowing where he is? Anything could have happened to him, could still happen. I don’t know what to do, Mirek Olara; should I go to Kytonia and speak to these glowsnakes myself, try to reason with them that we need to know more about our son? How can I just stay here in Tirian citadel, doing nothing, when he might need us? And then his wife, Imari. She is broken because of this. None of us know what to do.”

“I understand, Jen. We should rest now from this news. Aramek promised to tell us as soon as any further information about our son became available. For the moment we should remain calm and try to keep a positive outlook regarding Mirek’s fate. Please sit down; I will bring you something to eat, if you wish.”

“I don’t want anything to eat! I just want to know that our son is fine, and to see him again. I’m sorry, my husband. Have something to eat if you are hungry.”

“Okay, I’ll be in the kitchen if you change your mind. Think about it, lovely Jen; you have eaten nothing since his disappearance.” And with that the elder Mirek walked slowly away, leaving Jen with her thoughts. “You need food,” he half-jokingly called from the kitchen, but she did not answer. He began assembling ingredients and utensils, though without any enthusiasm. For several lapses he simply stared down at the counter full of items, unsure how to proceed despite being a more than competent cook.

“It will only take a moment,” he said without thinking. He looked up suddenly, unsure why he had said such a thing. “Mirek Taro, believed to have lived from -19507 to -19135 as an archaeologist and last Paladin of Iloa.”

“What did you say, my husband?” Jen called from the hospitality space.

“I don’t know, Jen. Something strange just occurred to me, and I have no idea what it means or why I said it. I feel uneasy, my love; as if something is about to happen.” He left the kitchen and returned to join his wife, who now looked even more concerned.

“Sit down here with me. This has been a shock for you also; I should not have thought only of my own feelings.”

“Don’t apologise, my love; you have every reason to be upset,” he replied, sitting next to his wife. “I am certain that he is okay. Do you not sense something?”

“Well, er, yes. I was unsure whether it was just my emotional condition, my imagination playing up, but he seems near. I do not understand why I should feel his presence so strongly. And I keep hearing a name in my mind – Ventorr Lantt. I even know this person’s identity and location; they were an archivist in Iloa Citadel in the past. What has any of this got to do with our son?”

“My love, I have no answers. But look, just outside the window; two hazy pink orbs, just like the Nivas of legend, silently hovering there. What can this mean, Jen?”

“I don’t know,” she said, standing. “I should be apprehensive but I am not.” She continued to look at the floating apparitions, captivated by their mild glowing gaseous spheres. “They do not mean us any harm, I am certain.”

“I think you are right; I sense only benevolence.”

At that, as if they had understood some cue, the two spherical nebulosities floated forward from the garden and passed effortlessly through the window screen, then remained hovering for a few pulses.

“Mirek? Son, is that you?”

“Do not be afraid, mother. I am here and in great health. Never better and stronger. No, please don’t touch me, my energy output could hurt you. Wait some time, please, I am new to this form.”

There were some changes within one nebulosity, and then its shape flowed and shifted, gradually coalescing into their son. He looked to his right at the other nebulosity; “focus, Imari, and you will reconstruct your form.” Several lapses passed and then the other pink fuzziness took on a sharper, person-like appearance, also altering its nuclear composition.

Jen did not hesitate to skip forward and hug the younger Mirek. “What has happened to you both? I thought Imari returned from Kytonia. My son, we have been so worried for these five revs. What were you doing in that time?”

“Do not worry, mother. I have evolved into thirdlife, that is all. Imari has joined me now, but Imari from the future. The Imari who returned from Kytonia is still here in the Citadel.” The apparition hugged Jen in return and remained like this till his mother parted willingly.

“Tell us what has happened, son,” the elder Mirek requested. “We need to know you are truly safe, and when we can see you again. Won’t you sit down?”

“It is okay, father. Imari and I came here to reassure you of our condition. As you can see, we are now transformed as Nivas. And we have an important request to make of you both. We are sorry to ask anything so demanding of you.”

“Whatever you ask for, we will be happy to do, son. Your father and I are so glad to see you even though we don’t understand what has happened exactly. Tell us what you need, and what we can do to help you, dear son.”

“Please return with me to orbit -19507. You both know of the temporal crisis afflicting this galaxy, and how important it is to fix its manifestations. In the past you will find a buried Quelae starship called Nightspear, its corridors disguised as cave passages. If you wish to help cure The Crisis, you will be able to by carrying out this task. You should live in Iloa and integrate with the Alarni’i. Once you join them you will have access to this Quelae starship, which is being used as a temple of worship. Will you do this for us? For me? For the Galaxymbion?”

“Yes, of course, my dear son,” Jen said. “We do not understand exactly why we must do this, or what we must do so far in the past, but we will help you if we can. Why cannot we return to this time, after we have fulfilled our roles there?”

“I am sorry, mother, father. It is necessary that you remain in the past with me. I will join you there and we will be together again. This has to exist in our archive, as it is part of the evidence that the Galaxymbion uncovers, which leads to galactic awareness of The Crisis. We also need someone from this time, with a contemporary understanding of the situation, to remain there to work with the Albas-ri. The remnants of Nightspear have to be recovered and someone must then ensure that the Alarni’i sect disbands and sensitive volumes of their writings are relocated.

“History records from that time that Jen Taro was a healer and Mirek Olara an explorer. Will you agree to disguise yourselves among our ancestors thus?”

“Of course, my son; I am a physician and your father is in the Exploration, Technology and Arts Triumvirate. More or less the same, I believe. Now that you are gone from our present we have nothing to keep us here.”

“How can we return to the past?” the elder Mirek enquired. “How will we know what to do when we get there?”

“Do not worry, father. I will tell you all you need to know. Imari and I can take you back to that time, appropriately dressed, and with the coordinates of Nightspear. Remember to join the Alarni’i first. They ascribe special status to those who find Nightspear by accident. Your knowledge of Nightspear’s location will be very important to the sect; you will be revered as mystics and sages.”

“For now, though,” Imari said, “we can spend some time together. Although this is a one-way trip for you both, and initially you must be there alone, we can eventually be there with you. We have some other time breaches to heal, and then a gargantuan task awaits us at the galactic core. But we can spend several phases with you here before we need to leave, and it does not matter when you depart this time frame. I am so sorry we must ask such a thing of you both.”

“Dearest Imari, you are such a lovely young woman, or Niva even. There is no need to be sorry.”

“Certainly not,” the elder Mirek confirmed. “Jen is right; we have nothing here now, and the Galaxymbion needs our help. I was just about to cook something. Are the two of you hungry?”

“As Nivas we have no need of conventional food,” Niva Mirek replied gently. But, seeing the quiet look of disappointment in his father’s eyes he added, “however, we can ingest food, to appear as if we are eating.”

“Will you taste anything?”

“I am uncertain, father.”

“I hope it won’t fall through you,” his mother added.

“I am certain that won’t happen, mother. As Nivas we have a greater command over forces, including our own.”

“Right, well, I will get cooking,” elder Mirek said. “Why don’t the three of you talk some more. I can join in even whilst in the kitchen.”