Hans and Zak sat in a room together sipping hot tallgrass tea freshly steeped by Junah while they discussed what was now being called ‘The Miracle’. A week had passed since that astounding day, but what exactly had happened was still shrouded in mystery. Somehow, someway, Rimdar had submitted himself to ridicule, torture, humiliation, pain, and ultimately death as the means to reach the Green Chair. And that Green Chair… it had turned out to be a super-weapon indeed… yet in a surprising way. For, it shook neither Hake, nor Sheek, but the planet. What Rimdar had done with the chair, miles below Seoltin, they had no idea. But there was no doubt Rimdar had let himself be thrown into the Pit to reach the chair, and had somehow used it to rid the sky of the strange new star, cleanse the ground of quaking and volcanoes, and restore the toxic air to its original state. Sheeple realized the planet itself, or the new star, or perhaps some combination of the two, had been the enemy. The Sheeks were no problem to the Hakes when compared to the collapsing environment, and vice versa.

  With Rimdar as their example, Sheeple in every city laid aside their differences. It was a humbling thing to know a lowly Hake had lain down his life so that they, both Hakes and Sheeks, could live. They remembered his words during his short time with them, when he denounced violence and enmity. How could they continue in that, after seeing this Miracle, after seeing such love and humility from one who should harbor hate for the Sheeks, and expect glory from the Hakes?

  Clear orange skies wrapped around the globe. Fresh air blew across the Six Seas. Dry and withered crops began to grow, and even the deserts were blooming. The sun was warm and the ominous white star gone. It was a Miracle of global proportions, one that made every Sheepel stop and think.

  “Would you like another brownie?” offered Zak.

  With a grin the size of a Cheshire cat’s, Hans reached for the dish. “Of course! Thanks, my friend.”

  Zak took a bite of his own and chewed, thinking. “So… what happens now?”

  Hans shrugged. “I don’t know. The Sheek Authority has crumbled. Too many defectors rose up and said they wouldn’t participate in anti-Hake activities after what Rimdar had done. All of the prisoners in the Sheeks' Land were freed, though it sounds like the prisons collapsed on their own accord.”

  “It’s amazing. A new world.”

  “Yes, so strange.”

  “No one cares who anyone is anymore… they just look up at the sky and smile. The street is littered with those cursed star symbols.”

  “I wonder if it’ll last.”

  “You think it won’t?”

  “Sheeple are Sheeple, Zak. Surely the time will come when this is forgotten and our old habits restored. How will we possibly convey to the next generation what took place? The difference between a Hake and Sheek is not merely in a star. The genetic rift will always be there.”

  “Maybe so. But it all seemed so pointless before. I don’t think anyone honestly enjoyed the war, Sheek or Hake. We came so close to destroying each other! I think what Rimdar did will forever be remembered.”

  “I certainly won't forget it. Thanks for coming to find me, Zak. I really appreciate your friendship.”

  “Think nothing of it. We'll get your house repaired. It'll be just like old times.”

  “Speaking of old times… did you ever figure out what those tennis balls were good for?”

  “Nope. I gave 'em away with a couple racquets to the neighborhood kids to hit around. Kept their mind off the war. I think they all ended up in the river.”

  “Oh.”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “They were just such an interesting shade of green. They remind me of–”

  “Don't even say it. The chair is gone, the star is gone, the war is gone… everything's back to normal. Come on, let's take the vehic to your house and see if that old rocker is still in the backyard.”

  In every region, monuments to both the Hake and Sheek Authority were torn down. A new government was created, with an equal number of Hake and Sheek representatives. Emperor Zabblyn gave up his title, asking forgiveness of the population. His short, two-week reign marked the end of the Sheek Emperors.

  Shamonj was a new land. The sun fell behind the Etani Cliffs, painting the sky gold as Zak and Hans reveled in their new freedom and restored friendship.

  * * * * * * * *

  Daved marveled at the congregation around him. Ciri from hundreds of planets filled the room, aliens as diverse as their home worlds, gathered to celebrate the success of the Xenonites' mission in the Myria System. He knew countless other Ciri were absent, engaged in operations throughout the galaxy, confined to their distant bases due to the limited number of x-crafts with sufficient speed to cross intergalactic space. The space-time ships perfected by the Vorians had disappeared with the scientists who had created them, leaving the Xenonites with the slower x-crafts as their only option for long distance travel. The fastest of these had picked up several Ciri from the Myria System, along with the green space-time drive, bringing them back for the celebration.

  The Supreme Coordinator of the Xenonite Forces stood and addressed the crowd: “We have much to celebrate. Our mission to Myria-13 has been a success. The Sheeple, as they call themselves, have been freed from the influence of the Usurpers. The space-time drive has been recovered and used to shift the planet back into a proper orbit.

  “As you know, the drive was disguised as an innocuous green chair. It was our intent to use it when it first reached Myria-13, but it was incorrectly transmitted to the wrong location, destroying a local aircraft and triggering an undesired battle against the army led by our Ciri Quinn, who had hoped to forestall the war while he awaited the drive’s arrival. By the time our engineers determined what had happened, Quinn had fled the region, his army defeated and the drive left behind. The drive moved aimlessly across the planet, sometimes on its own, sometimes carried by unsuspecting locals.

  “With the drive missing and Quinn on the run, we decided to send another Ciri, Rimdar, who would work with the local people to find the missing drive. Quinn did good work preparing the population for Rimdar’s arrival, but unfortunately passed away all too soon in a tragic accident. We remember Quinn, who lost his life while serving on the ground.”

  The Supreme Coordinator paused in respect for the fallen Ciri, then continued.

  “Unfortunately, Rimdar had no better luck finding the missing space-time drive. Instead, it was found by the local government and sealed deep underground before we could intercept it. Our Ciri Tovil, Daved, and Rimdar were able to infiltrate the prison which housed the gates to the underground. They chose this task knowing the dangers involved, and succeeded. Without them, we could not have recovered the drive before the underground environment rendered it completely useless. And without Daved’s last minute resourcefulness, Rimdar would not have survived the mission.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Rimdar’s work in particular was commendable. Through his will and determination, he survived this very hell that may have destroyed the drive, locating it and installing the replacement battery. While Tovil and Daved were able to rescue him after his work was complete, he nonetheless suffered greatly saving those he did not endanger from a peril he did not cause.

  “The space-time drive was activated within a minute of its rescue. It functioned as intended, both repelling the incoming Sphere and shifting the planet back to proper alignment. Our Ciri have verified that the planet's ecosystem is recovering and the civil war has come to an end. The planet has been reclaimed. Let us give a hand to our heroes from the Myria System!”

  The assembly rose to applaud Tovil, Daved, and Rimdar. Daved beamed, though he felt overwhelmed at the sight of so many strange aliens in the large hall. Rimdar was more reserved, still covered with scars and bandages where the Pit had taken its toll on his Hake body. Tovil, a Xenonite Commander, merely grimaced, for of the three he understood the most just how close they had come to losing not only the Myria System, but every other Xenonite-controlled sector as well.

  After the ceremony ended and the assembly was filing out of the grand room, a tall, thin Ciri bearing medals indicating high rank approached Daved. Daved stared at the lanky creature trying not to chuckle. Of all the aliens he had seen, it was by far the weakest and most ridiculous looking. What had it done to reach Class Ni?

  The creature held out a skinny hand. Daved patted it, unfamiliar with the greeting.

  “Congratulations and welcome to Xenon. I am Bimi, from Earth.”

  “Thanks. I'm Daved, as you have heard. From Shamonj. Except you guys call it Myria-13.”

  “Yes, I know all about you. It's great what you did for your people. I am thankful the Usurpers haven’t targeted Earth.”

  “The way this space-time drive works, I don’t think we’ll have to worry about the Usurpers ever again. If only you could have seen what it did! The entire planet was ripped from their curse in mere seconds!”

  Bimi lowered his voice. “I’m not so sure. Do you think the Xenonites will send it so far ever again, after coming so close to losing it? My guess is Xenon and the inner planets are safe, but the outer planets will be left undefended. You are lucky your planet was the first target of the Usurpers, for the Xenonites would not have saved it had they known how close they would come to losing their only weapon against the Spheres.”

  “There’s something I have been wondering, but no one seems to know the answer.”

  “What's that?”

  “Where did the space-time drive come from? Has it been used before?”

  Bimi gave Daved a long, blank stare, then said only, “I don't know.”

  “That's what everyone says. Even Commander Tovil, a Xenonite! Isn't that a little strange? This space-time drive has been protecting Xenon from the Usurpers for millennia. It can move an entire planet; deflect an enemy half a light-year away. If the Xenonites can’t even build a decent space-time ship, how did they get this?”

  “Undoubtedly, there are Xenonites who know these things. But we are mere Ciri, aliens from other worlds. They dare not give their secrets to us.”

  “I'm new at this whole Ciri thing,” admitted Daved.

  Bimi looked around nervously. “I'd like to hear more about you and your home world, but this austere hall is no place to chat. Have you seen the ocean yet?”

  “Just what I saw flying in.”

  “Will you join me for a while? I own an x-craft and I can give you a ride to the ocean. It is something every Ciri must see while they are on Xenon.”

  “Yes, I’d like that,” said Daved.

  * * * * * * * *

  The sound of endless waves, each one breaking upon the sandy shore in a swooshing crash, filled the air. Each wave played a part in the symphony of the day. Today’s symphony was a slow, laborious one, which Daved Breggs equated to a sense of deep pondering.

  He was sitting beside Bimi, a Ciri from Earth he’d met after the morning’s ceremony in Xado City. Bimi had flown Daved to the edge of the continent, where a remote beach ran straight and narrow, dividing the rocky interior of Xado from the black Waters of Trent. All evening, they had discussed life as a Ciri, both Bimi's adventures and his own, but now they sat in silence, watching the sun Xenia set behind Xenon’s ring. The sun’s dim rays colored the graduated ring like a rainbow, each narrow band of metallic pellets filtering the light differently: iron red, nickel pale blue, copper yellow, and so on. But beneath all this, the Waters of Trent remained black as always, unfazed by the beauty above.

  Daved stared out at the dark sea, captivated. The water seemed to recede forever, until it become so small that even its own vastness was swallowed into the heavens. Plans and dreams flooded his consciousness.

  The one thought that stuck out in his mind, however, was this: The Ocean is so vast! One could sail hundreds–no, thousands–of days before crossing it. Yet soon, I will set sail on a deeper ocean–the great and eternal depths of space.

  “You’re going to like being a spy,” said Bimi, reading his thoughts. “Every day is an adventure. Each time you visit home it will have changed more than you can imagine. You will live through countless generations and see more trends and fads than you dare dream.”

  “I’m not actually going to become a spy.”

  “You’re not? Are you returning to Myria-13? Will you take the pill?” Bimi was shocked. He knew of some who chose not to be a Ciri, but never after completing a mission. After a mission you were hooked… you wouldn't dream of returning to ignorant life on a single planet, all memory of the worlds beyond lost.

  Daved looked out to the horizon. “On Shamonj, I was a Wanderer. I had no home, no occupation, no family. I roamed the planet, seeing what there was to see and learning what there was to learn. But now, my eyes have been opened. Space is so much larger, so much greater than I could have ever imagined. There are forces at work that even the Xenonites don’t understand. I want to explore it. To map it, learn it, see it. Most of all, I want to understand it. To know if there is some unity, some force, some reason behind it all… or if there are only random worlds: Sheeple here, Xenonites there; countless others. You spoke of secrets the Xenonites keep from us. This I have discovered in my own studies… pages in the Manual that are blank without reason, or questions which should have answers, but no one will give them.”

  “I am impressed that you have seen this so quickly.”

  “But it goes beyond that; surely you have noticed! There are questions I suspect have never been asked. I want to ask these questions, understand the Reason for it All–to quote an old acquaintance–but it is clear to me that I will find nothing more under the Xenonites’ watch. I must set forth myself and explore the galaxy.”

  Bimi nodded. “I know the feeling. But you can’t simply take off and do whatever you want. I have my own ship, have achieved great rank, and yet even I must earn a living. Besides, the Xenonites would never allow it, would they? To travel the galaxy unauthorized?”

  “I was granted a special mission in exchange for my help rescuing the drive. They're assigning me my own ship–a slow one, Class Ka, but a ship! And all the supplies I need to get started. I can live on nearly nothing, and if I run low on supplies, use my skills as a Wanderer to restock on habitable planets. I can venture into deep space as far as I like, to any planet I desire. The only requirement is that I report my location as I travel and send back updates of whatever I discover.”

  “Discover? How far do you intend to travel?”

  “Farther than anyone before me. If I do not return, so be it. I will aim for the End of the Galaxy.”

  “You will not make it in such a ship!”

  “I will try.”

  “You will be utterly on your own once you pass Vorian space. It’s too far for the com-links.”

  “I am to report on what I find up to that point, for we have not sent a Ciri to the Vorians since the days of Alexander. But after that, I am free to go as far as I choose, providing I return some day with my findings.”

  “Assuming you can sneak past them without getting killed by the Dictator.”

  “I will try.”

  “But even if you do… to the End? It is so far! Why risk travel past the Vorians when you will never reach your goal? Why don’t you come with me? I’m taking a vacation on Sybesa-11–have you ever heard of the Olusan Desert? Or Angker-Snoph?”

  “Angker what?”

  “No, that’s on Earth. Angker-Snoph is the northern region of Sybesa-11. It is covered in mountains called the Snoph, and dotted with millions of tiny lakes, each a unique color and shape. They are breathtaking when viewed from space–no two Snoph Lakes are alike. And in the southern region, the Olusan Desert stretches around the planet, the largest desert in the galaxy. Now there is a worthwhile destination you can actually reach!”

  “These life-drugs work indefinitely, do they not?”

  “Well, technically…”

  “Then I will get there eventually.”

  “We have mapped the galaxy. According to the Manual, there are no star-faring species past the Vorians; you will only encounter primitive worlds, so innumerable and distant that they are not worth cataloging. Centuries will pile upon centuries, and exponentially more so as you leave the outer arm. What can you hope to find?”

  Daved shrugged. “Again, I don’t know. Look out at the ocean. What do you see?”

  Bimi let his eyes stray to the reaches of the horizon. “Blackness. Water. Vastness.”

  “Does that differ from space? Space is empty–dark, vast. But the ocean is actually teeming with life. There are monstrous animals in there… in all oceans, I have heard! Huge storms seethe with activity as they cross its expanse. Fleets from exotic ports sail the sea carrying their wares. Perhaps, space may be the same. There is only one way for me to find out.”

  Bimi nodded. “A noble quest and I can see your heart is set on it. Who knows–perhaps there is more to this galaxy than the Xenonites let on.”

  “Wish me luck.”

  “Absolutely.”

  The two sat and took in the splendor of the infinite waves, each pondering a thousand thoughts and dreams.

  * THE END OF BOOK II *