Aetheral Space-Chapter 541 - 17.13: The Taste of Lightning

DAY -1768

When Haisley had been young, she'd sought out lightning.

She herself had never seen lightning, and neither had most of the people she knew. Nehr Müt didn't have the sort of atmosphere that allowed things such as lightning, after all -- and even if it did, Zephyr Pandershi surely would have taken steps to get rid of it. He was that kind of smartypants busybody, after all.

No, the only person Haisley knew who had seen lightning -- who could speak of lightning -- was Gram Plink.

He was a massive, boisterous old man who spent most of his time drinking at the community dispensary, right at the edge of Ward 8. He was old enough to remember the rule of the ruthless Foremen, back when Nehr Müt had been a mere mining colony -- but, far more interesting to Haisley's ears, he could remember a time before his family came to Nehr Müt to work.

"Back before I was a miner, I was a minor," he would say, and laugh as if he'd said the funniest thing in the world.

Haisley would just roll her eyes, but she wouldn't move from where she sat cross-legged on the floor, eagerly listening. If anything, she leaned in to listen closer. That was because, after Gram had gotten through his lame jokes, he would always start telling stories.

Stories of alien skies, and the lightning they promised.

AETHERAL SPACE 17.13

"The Taste of Lightning"

Haisley had heard Gram Plink's stories many times… but to tell the truth, she still had trouble actually imagining lightning. Fire that lanced down from the sky -- when she tried to picture it, all she could think of was a fireball dropping out of a cloud, but she got the feeling that wasn't right. It was an exciting feeling, though, imagining something and knowing your imagination couldn't measure up to the real thing. It told you that the world was bigger than anyone knew.

When she was around seven or eight, Haisley had gone sneaking into Ward 8's maintenance tunnels, the web of passages that ran throughout the district's walls, containing everything needed to keep it going. The courier-chutes, the false sky, the environmental controls… all of it was maintained from just outside, by people behind curtains. It wasn't like Haisley was curious about them, though. They were just people as boring as her. No, she was on the hunt for lightning.

Gram Plink had told her, after all, getting his thoughts a little more together on a relatively sober day. Lightning wasn't fire, it was electricity. A massive spark of electricity carved across the sky. Even if Haisley couldn't find the real deal, she could surely see its tiny counterpart -- and where better to find electricity than the place where they kept her world running?

If Haisley had been a little less lucky, the day surely would have ended up a tragedy. She managed to squeeze into the tunnels through an air vent she'd forced open over several weeks. From there, she'd explored in nearly pitch darkness, with only a feeble lantern to light her way.

She was lost within minutes, but she didn't much care. This was the adventure of a lifetime. To be honest, it was probably the only adventure of her lifetime.

In a world where every step forward had been made as safe and soulless as possible, there was nothing quite as exciting as the dark. She wandered through the tunnels for hours, marveling at nearly everything she saw. In the dark, even a wall was mysterious. The modules built into those walls were even better -- those were an enigma.

It was one of those modules that nearly cut her adventure short. Looking back, it had probably been something used to control a light panel for the sky or something -- clearly, someone had been doing maintenance on it, but hadn't locked it properly when they'd left. The tiny door of the module swung back and forth, the electronic innards within inviting Haisley closer. She didn't refuse that invitation.

She couldn't quite remember what she'd intended to do. Probably just take a look at the inside of the module. Maybe mess around a little bit and flick some switches or something. She didn't get the chance for either.

The moment she stuck her hand inside, it all happened at once.

A bright light. A sensation like someone had punched her. A burning pain, all over her body. A click from the back of her neck. Air beneath her feet. Darkness.

She woke up a few hours later. At the time, she hadn't quite understood the fact that she'd received an electric shock, nor that she'd survived it through what could only be called a miracle. All she could comprehend was that something scary had happened and she was all alone.

Her screams rang through the tunnels as she ran and ran and ran -- and, in the second miracle of the day, she somehow found her way home.

It was a few years later, when she was eleven years old, that Haisley met him.

He didn't make himself known or anything like that. He didn't break through the gates of Ward 8 and declare his identity like a hero from a story. No, he arrived quietly, probably sneaking through the same tunnels that Haisley had frequented in her childhood.

No -- he arrived without a word, and he arrived without a face.

Haisley was on her way to her afternoon class with Puck when she'd seen him, walking right through the square in the middle of Ward 8. Under the false sky of Ward 8, there were false fields and false forests -- a false countryside, to be short, with the seasons changing whenever Zephyr Pandershi decided it should be so. They were in the middle of false fall right now, with holographic orange leaves drifting down before the great windmill that was the Ward's primary landmark.

That man held out his hand, and frowned as the leaf passed right through. That was when Haisley noticed him… and that was when Haisley realized he was someone from outside this world.

He was wearing a cloak, for one, a ragged brown thing with the hood pulled up to cover the top half of his face. Anyone who was from Zepan knew that wearing a hood like that was useless to hide your identity. Zephyr Pandershi knew everything about everyone inside his dominion.

His testing of the leaf was another sign. For anyone who'd lived in Ward 8 for any amount of time, something as simple as a holographic leaf wouldn't even be worth looking at, much less testing. It would be like testing out the breeze.

And then there was the third sign. Haisley only noticed it when the man walked past her, on his way to somewhere else, and she saw what was hidden under his cloak for a moment. Her heartbeat quickened.

The man had a sword sheathed at his hip.

Her afternoon lessons were forgotten instantly. A sword. In the stories Gram Plink liked to ramble on about, tales from his childhood, the heroes always had swords. They cut down the bad guys and rescued the people. If someone with a sword had shown up here, was he a hero? Was he here to fight a bad guy? Who was it?

She followed after the man as he walked through the streets of Ward 8. At the time, she surely thought she was being stealthy, but looking back it was obvious that the man had clocked her the instant she'd started tailing him. Naive as she was, though, she didn't realize that until she followed the man into an alley…

…and suddenly, he was standing behind her.

Slowly, she turned, looking up at him. He made no move to stop her. If anything, he seemed amused by her audacity, his lips spread into a slight smile.

"Is there something I can help you with?" he asked, voice mild, hand resting on his sheathed blade.

That pose! So cool!

"Are you a swordsman?" she asked, voice trembling -- not from fear but from excitement. It was as if one of the figures from her favourite stories had walked right out of her imagination. After a life of mundane repetition, the introduction of something new was truly like a bolt of lightning.

"A swordsman?" the man echoed. "Well, I have a sword and I am a man -- so I suppose so, yes."

"You're a hero?" she pressed on, eyes nearly sparkling with admiration.

He clicked his tongue. "Ah… I'm not so sure about that one. I try my best, though," he chuckled. "Was that all you wanted from me?"

Haisley shook her head frantically.

The man frowned. "I'm… sort of busy. I don't want to be rude, but I can't stand here answering your questions all day. I'm sorry."

"You're not from here, right?"

He said he couldn't keep answering her questions, but he answered all the same. "It seems like you already know I'm not. Why?"

"I --" she patted her chest wildly. "I'm from here."

"Well done," he smirked.

"No, no I mean," she shook her fists. "I can help you. You don't know stuff about Zepan, right? That's why you're wearing a hood like it matters. I know all about Zepan. I can help you! I can help you with what you're doing!"

The smile faded from the man's face. "What I'm doing?" he said seriously. "You have no idea what I'm doing. Perhaps I'm here to do something terrible. You have no way of knowing. You shouldn't offer to help someone without understanding their character."

Haisley's grin, however, didn't fade in the slightest. "Obviously you're a good guy!"

"Obviously?"

"Obviously," she nodded, hair whipping back and forth. "After all, only a good guy would say he might be a bad guy!"

The man stopped frowning.

The man smiled.

The man laughed.

"Maybe, maybe," he said. "Well… I suppose it's not as if I'll find a more willing guide. You said the hood was useless?"

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Without waiting for her to answer, he pulled the hood off his head, revealing his face. Bright white hair. Pleasant, but surprisingly normal features -- the kind of face that could blend into a crowd. But the part that stuck out to Haisley most were his eyes.

They looked kind.

"My name's Nigen Rush," he said. "What's yours?"

The authorities had never found the secret entrance to the maintenance tunnels, and Haisley knew the secret spots where the technicians didn't go much -- so, before long, they were sitting in the darkness of a neglected alcove, barely lit by the flickering flames of a lantern.

"You're not even from Nehr Müt at all, then?" Haisley was vibrating with excitement. "Not even from, like, another Ward? You're from somewhere else totally?"

Nigen Rush nibbled at one of the biscuits she'd given him from her daily snack.

"To be honest," he said, looking at her with bemusement. "I'm surprised that you're surprised. Where I'm from, meeting someone from another planet isn't that notable. On some occasions, it's even the norm. You've never been off of Nehr Müt?"

Haisley shook her head. "Some of the really old folks came here with their parents when they were little. That was when this was just a mining colony, though."

"Oh," Nigen raised his eyebrows. "What is it now, then?"

Haisley shrugged lightly. "Puck says it's like paradise, but it would say that. It's basically a place where Director Pandershi makes all the decisions. It's kinda lame. You've gotta tell the front door you love it to leave the house sometimes, you know? That's lame, right?"

"That does sound lame."

"Right?!" Haisley leaned in. "Oh wow! Is that why you're here? Are you gonna fight Director Pandershi so he stops messing with people's doors?!"

At those words, Nigen Rush winced. His gaze drifted down to the lantern between them -- as if the flame was a lens through which he could see the world far away.

"If possible, I would prefer not to fight anyone," he muttered.

Haisley cocked her head. "Why're you here, then?"

"A comrade of mine… a former comrade, back where I came from," Nigen explained slowly, doing his best to strip away the specifics of the world and make it easy to understand. "He betrayed his position and the oath we all swore. I've come here to get him back… or to hear his excuse, if he has one."

Haisley tapped a finger against her lips, considering Nigen's words. One of his buddies had betrayed him and gone over to the other side. Oh, this really was just like one of Gram Plink's stories!

"So he was a good guy that turned into a bad guy," she snapped her fingers. "Oh, duh. You've definitely gotta fight him, then."

Nigen smiled faintly, the firelight still dancing in his eyes. "I'm not sure if he was a good guy back then… or if he is a bad guy now. To tell you the truth, I was furious when I set out, but I managed to calm down a little on the way here. At this point, I just want to hear what he has to say."

"You know," Haisley frowned. "You're mad at the thing he did, right? I don't get why it matters why he did it, he still did the thing. If he talks to you and you stop being mad, doesn't that just mean he tricked you?"

"Possibly," Nigen nodded faintly. "Possibly. I think you've misunderstood me, though."

He looked up at her, and his eyes were steel.

"I said I calmed down a little," he said icily. "Right now, deep down… I still want to cut that man down."

Nigen Rush already knew where his target would be -- the fortress Auberon. What he didn't know was how he would get there. Storming the fortress head on would mean engaging the Seelie Rangers and the Unseelie in combat, and that was something he was reluctant to do at this point.

He'd only just arrived on Nehr Müt, after all -- the last thing he wanted was to spill blood before understanding the character of its owner.

So, in the end, he decided to wait. What Haisley had said was true. Without a doubt, Zephyr Pandershi already knew he was here -- and that canny old man surely knew that the only one on this planet who could rival Nigen Rush was the man he was here to find. If he remained in Ward 8 for a time, that man would surely appear on his own.

So, he waited.

So, he waited.

So, he waited.

"Puck," Haisley said, right as her class was leaving their afternoon lessons. "I wanna ask something."

The tubby mascot-machine swivelled around to face her as the rest of the students trickled out of the small classroom, leaving them alone. With eyes like a pair of massive binoculars, it looked at her intently. Puck was meant to be everyone's favourite, but Haisley thought it was a little creepy, to be honest. Its head was way too big, and it looked like an onion.

"What is it, Haisley?" Puck asked cheerfully. "Do you have a question about today's lesson? Or perhaps you're unsure about something from a previous lesson? Even if it's about trouble at home, please don't hold back! I will do my best to answer your question quickly and clearly!"

Yap yap yap. Haisley suppressed the urge to roll her eyes before she asked: "Can you tell me about the outside?"

Puck paused, just for a second, before putting a finger to its painted-on mouth, servos whirring. "Outside?" it wondered. "I don't know about thaaat!"

"But you're supposed to know about everything," Haisley frowned.

"That's right! If you have any questions or queries, Puck is always happy to help! I don't mean to brag, but I have access to a massive amount of data!"

"So you know about the outside world?"

"Eh… I wouldn't say thaaat!"

"But you know everything."

"Yep!"

"The 'outside world' is included in everything, right?"

"Gosh, I guess it would have to be!"

"So you know about the outside world!"

Again, Puck paused for a second, a blue light blinking behind its eyes as it processed her statement. "That's absolutely right! I do know about the outside world. Sorry for the confusion!"

"Do you know about a guy called Nigen Rush?"

There was no pause this time. Losing its cheery tone for just a moment, Puck coldly snapped: "I don't know anything about that."

Haisley looked at it, eyes wide. For her -- just like every other child in Zepan -- Puck had been a constant presence. Playmate, confidant, teacher. She couldn't remember a time before she'd heard its voice…

…just like she couldn't remember a time she'd ever heard its voice like that.

"You should get on home, Haisley!" Puck chirped, back to its usual self. "It's important that kids get enough sleep, you know!"

"I know," Haisley mumbled, nodding as she turned to go. She pulled the straps of her backpack tight and left through the door as quickly as she could -- like she'd suddenly been placed in a room with a wild animal and had to escape. For reasons she couldn't quite express herself, her heart was thundering in her chest.

Even as she went, though, she felt like she could still feel Puck's gaze boring into her back… all the way home.

Nigen Rush didn't spend his entire time in Zepan hiding in the tunnels. To be honest, that was what he'd intended to do, but Haisley hadn't allowed it. Zephyr Pandershi already knew where he was, after all. What was the point of hiding out in such a dark and grimy place?

So it went that Nigen Rush spent his days in Ward 8 proper. The population wasn't so small that he couldn't get away with just being someone people didn't know. Haisley had noticed he was a stranger, but by her own admission she was kind of a weirdo. If Nigen walked around confidently, like he was supposed to be there, people's memories generally just filled in the gaps.

For nearly four weeks, he stood by Haisley's side. He listened quietly to Gram Plink's stories with her, smiling at the old man's enthusiasm. He walked the streets with her, watching with concern these premeditated lives. From a distance, he even observed the school, frowning as he heard children being taught of a hopeless world he himself had never seen.

And, of course -- because Haisley insisted…

"Yes," Nigen said. "Hold it just like that -- the sword is an extension of your arm, not a separate implement."

Haisley frowned, looking at the stick she was clutching in her hands. "This… isn't a sword."

"It's a substitution sword. Imagine the stick as a sword, and the sword as an extension of your arm."

The two of them stood in the middle of Ward 8's forest, far away from the settlement proper. This was the closest thing they had to privacy here -- even if Zephyr Pandershi's eyes were everywhere, at least those were the only eyes around. Haisley had asked again and again and again, and Nigen Rush had finally been defeated. He would at least teach her the basics of swordsmanship.

"Which arm?" Haisley asked.

Nigen sighed. "What?"

"I've got two arms. Which one is it an extension of? Left or right?"

"Which hand do you write with?" Nigen gave her a withering look.

"My left."

"Really?" Nigen blinked. "Well, it's an extension of your left arm, then."

"What about my right one?" Haisley frowned, her eyes moist. "You're saying that's just garbage…?"

She held the frown for a good long moment, looking up at Nigen, before crumbling into a fit of giggles. The universally renowned swordsman sighed again, putting a hand on his hip as he watched the girl recover. Soon enough, though, a smile tugged at his lips too.

"You remind me of my little sister," he chuckled. "Only she doesn't care for the sword, no matter how many times I try to explain it. Lift up your finger."

Haisley wiped a tear from her eye. "What?" she asked.

"Your finger," Nigen repeated, taking a step back. "Just hold it out like you're pointing at me."

Haisley gave Nigen an odd look, but did as he asked all the same. She lifted her index finger and held it out in his direction. When he drew his sword -- the hiss of the blade ringing through the trees -- she flinched, but she didn't retract it. Nigen looked at her with eyes that held no malice.

"Hold still," he said quietly.

He reached out with that sword, so polished it almost seemed to be glowing, and pressed the tip of the weapon against the tip of Haisley's finger. This was a blade that could cut through flesh like butter… but Nigen's control was absolute, and therefore it cut only what he wanted it to, in the fashion he desired. There was only the slightest bit of pain -- and, when he pulled the sword back, the tiniest cut.

Haisley's finger slowly dripped crimson blood down onto the grass below. She looked up at him.

"What was that for?" she frowned, for real this time.

"It's a necessity," Nigen replied seriously. "The only people who should wield a sword are those who know how it feels to be cut. Now lift your blade and try to kill me."

Haisley didn't really get it, but she liked the idea of hitting Nigen with a stick. Grinning, she lifted her weapon and whipped it right at his face. It was the clumsiest, most basic strike -- and Nigen easily just stepped out of the way.

"Again," he said.

The humour was gone from his eyes now. This was an instructor of swordsmanship, and he would not accept anything less than perfection. Blood continued to drip from her finger as she swung the stick again.

Drip.

"Again."

Drip.

"Again."

Drip.

"Again."

Far away, over the hills of Ward 8, the thing called Puck stood and watched. It was not alive, and so it did not breathe or shiver as an artificial wind blew through. Apart from its thinking, it was no different from a statue. All it did was watch and consider -- those eyes, from so far away, locked onto the man called Nigen Rush.

The beast who was unknowingly drenching his hands in blood.

"What a thoughtless man," the old toy said, with a voice full of bitterness and dread.