Calan - The Immortality Paradox

Chapter Twenty: Assault of the Kray Authority, Part One

Date: 464, OA19,654

Location: Royal Citadel, New Avalon, Kray System

The Hedyn offered no glimmers of life. Its coiling branches and heaving walls gave no reply to any of the stimuli Wanderer administered. Full-capacity batteries, portable capacitors, electromagnets nor the energy from the local star steered through the halls of Camelot could rekindle the mysterious power that filled the Hedyn's mechanism. She was as perplexed as she'd been the moment she walked into the chamber for the first time at the Queen's request. The pressure had seemed minimal and the task undefined. But now endless questions clouded her mind, extracting all sorts of continuity from her memory banks. Why have the Calan buried a Hedyn beneath this city? Why wasn't I told how to utilise it, at least provided with an explanation? Why do I have this impending feeling of hopelessness? Can I truly save these people?

Much-exaggerated tales of a Hedyn that resided in Shàngdi de Lĭwù described a production line of spaceships, complex machinery and the elemental components to construct towers as high as mountains buried in its vaults. It was almost inconceivable to imagine this abandoned treasure conjuring such prodigious creations with a mere stimulus. Perhaps it was her inability to imagine that restricted her at this very moment.

Wanderer was lying on her side when she heard the footsteps approaching, like clock hands ticking towards her doom. Silicon of every molecular configuration blocked her view. Her chair was pushed to one side of the chamber, idle. She had neither the energy nor the inclination to rise from the ground to identify the visitor. She simply sighed as a miscellanea of roots, under which she scoured, unfurled like a mandelbrot set into a thousand more.

'Wanderer...' She recognised the formal, unforthcoming voice of the Creditmaster. He had been absent lately; unable to put aside her atypicality and finally be grateful for her assistance. From the moment he had first greeted her, charm could never have penetrated his bunker of familiarity.

She didn't turn around, pretending instead to fiddle productively with the mechanism. Oakes didn't know how to fasten his own cloak, let alone fathom the machine of the Gods. 'No, I've not succeeded in comprehending the Hedyn. Yes, I'm aware that time is short. No, I will not abandon the people to be slaughtered by the Kray Authority. Yes, I'm sure the Queen likes you back. Given that she's just allowed you through her bedchamber to allow you access here. Any questions I've missed out?'

There was no customary retort, or outburst. She half-expected him to squeak with all the stoicism of a junkyard rodent. 'Wanderer, I've been meaning to say...' Zhě gave him credit for at least attempting an earnest tone. 'The Queen is very grateful for your presence here...as am I.'

She sighed. 'Queen Pendragon is not here to listen to your half-arsed platitudes, Creditmaster. Perhaps you'd find better use of your time negotiating land tax, if that's truly the role you've been assigned.'

'The others are becoming agitated over the lack of progress. Forgemaster Waterman is particularly weary of amassing a garrison for a defensive effort. They are, naturally, worried about the invasion to come. Although one or two still question the authenticity of your station. I want to apologise for our lack of faith.'

Zhě paused momentarily, the mystery of the Hedyn unsolved. She manoeuvered herself over so that she could face Oakes, brushing down her uniform absent-mindedly. She decided to drop the passive-aggressive act, and spoke plainly. 'When someone doesn't understand something, the instinct is to poke and prod it repeatedly until something familiar falls out. Sometimes it takes an open mind to find the beauty in ignorance, or relish in the journey to understanding.'

The Creditmaster bowed his head. He looked somewhat mature in comparison to his usual petty persona. The eyes told a tale of accomplishment, as if a sudden emotional growth had come upon him. Forty years of conscientious service started to unveil itself from his sheepish exterior. The brooches were still there, polished and gleaming, but they hung loosely; the shackles of tradition falling away. They no longer served to brace his ego. 'Is everyone in your...Chapter...as wise as you?'