Chapter four: Echoes Beneath Calm Waters
2570 Words
«"A single unanswered question can weigh more heavily than a thousand comfortable answers."
— The Records of the Third Current»
The Festival of Four Currents arrived with music.
Not speeches.
Not ceremonies.
Music.
Before the first light of First Tide reached the floating bridges of Azure Crest, melodies were already drifting through the city. They floated between crystal towers, slipped through open windows, and mingled with the smell of warm Kiaps and sweet Lurtz pastries fresh from the ovens.
To Vox-UNE, that smell was far more effective than an alarm.
His eyes opened.
He sniffed the air once.
Then twice.
"...Festival pastries."
Nib, the small workshop drone hovering near the ceiling, rotated slowly.
"You have identified breakfast."
"I have identified happiness."
"You also have class."
"...You always ruin the moment."
"You programmed me to value responsibility."
"I clearly made a mistake."
"You have said that eighty-three times."
Vox sat up, stretched, and looked out of his bedroom window.
Azure Crest shimmered beneath ribbons of silver-blue light. Every bridge carried colorful banners, every balcony displayed woven ribbons representing the Four Currents, and every child seemed to be running somewhere important.
The city didn't feel busy.
It felt alive.
His mother glanced into the room.
"If you're going to stare at the festival all morning..."
"I won't."
"...at least brush your hair first."
Vox instinctively touched his head.
His silver-blue hair pointed in three completely different directions.
"...It's developing character."
"It's developing its own government."
...
By the time Vox reached the streets, the city had doubled in size.
Or at least it felt that way.
Visitors from neighboring districts had crossed into Azure Crest before sunrise. Artists displayed shimmering sculptures carved from sea crystal. Engineers proudly exhibited inventions that would probably never become practical.
One man enthusiastically demonstrated a spoon that folded itself.
"It saves almost two seconds every meal!"
An elderly woman looked at it.
"I've survived seventy Cycles without needing that."
"You don't appreciate innovation."
"I appreciate ordinary spoons."
Vox laughed as he passed.
He loved these little conversations.
People in Azure Crest rarely argued to win.
They argued because it made mornings more entertaining.
"Engineer!"
The familiar voice came from above.
Pirr-UNE was balancing rather precariously on the railing of a pedestrian bridge.
"Morning!"
"Why are you up there?"
"I wanted a better view."
"There are stairs."
"There are."
"...You ignored them?"
"It felt more adventurous."
Vox sighed.
"One day you're going to fall."
"I haven't yet."
At that exact moment—
Pirr lost his balance.
His arms flailed wildly.
Several nearby pedestrians gasped.
Then, with surprising agility, he landed neatly on both feet.
He looked around proudly.
"...I meant to do that."
A little girl watching nearby whispered to her father,
"He definitely didn't."
Her father nodded.
"He definitely didn't."
Even Pirr couldn't help laughing.
...
The Grand Academy had canceled formal lectures for the festival, but Professor Neral insisted that curiosity never took holidays.
Naturally, half the engineering students still gathered in Workshop Three.
Not because attendance was required.
Because nobody wanted to miss whatever strange project the professor had decided to build.
Vox stepped inside.
The workshop was quieter than usual.
Professor Neral stood beside an enormous object hidden beneath a canvas sheet.
Every student immediately noticed it.
Nobody dared ask.
The professor sipped his tea.
"I see you're all wondering what's beneath the cover."
Silence.
"Excellent."
Another sip.
"We'll discuss something entirely different."
A chorus of disappointed groans echoed through the room.
Professor Neral smiled ever so slightly.
"Patience."
He walked slowly around the covered object.
"Tell me..."
"...what is the greatest mistake an engineer can make?"
Hands rose.
"Miscalculating measurements."
"Reasonable."
"Choosing weak materials."
"Also reasonable."
"Poor maintenance."
Professor Neral nodded.
"Good."
He looked directly at Vox.
"And you?"
Vox thought for a moment.
"...Assuming you already know the answer."
For the first time that morning...
Professor Neral didn't respond immediately.
Instead...
he smiled.
"A dangerous mistake."
He placed one hand on the hidden machine.
"The universe has embarrassed greater minds than ours."
With a dramatic flourish, he pulled away the canvas.
Gasps filled the workshop.
Beneath it stood an ancient exploration craft.
Its polished frame had faded with age.
Sections of its hull were scarred.
One engine was missing entirely.
Yet despite decades of neglect...
it still possessed an undeniable elegance.
Professor Neral gently brushed dust from its side.
"This..."
"...is one of the first long-range survey craft ever built on Neptune."
The room fell silent.
Vox slowly stepped closer.
"I thought they were all dismantled."
"So did everyone else."
Professor Neral's eyes lingered on the machine with something almost resembling affection.
"History has a habit of hiding things until the right people come looking."
Before anyone could ask another question...
a sharp knock echoed through the workshop doors.
Three knocks.
Evenly spaced.
Not loud.
Not urgent.
But deliberate.
Professor Neral's expression changed.
Only for a heartbeat.
Then it was gone.
"I wasn't expecting visitors."
The doors slid open.
A woman dressed in the formal robes of the High Council stepped inside.
Every conversation stopped.
She surveyed the workshop before speaking in a calm, measured voice.
"Professor Neral."
"I require a private word."
The old engineer set his teacup down.
"Do you?"
"I do."
Something in her tone made the room suddenly feel smaller.
Professor Neral turned back to his students.
"Take fifteen minutes."
Pirr grinned.
"Does that mean a break?"
"No."
"It means don't touch anything."
"...That sounds like a challenge."
"It is not."
As the professor disappeared with the Council envoy into the adjoining chamber, Vox couldn't shake an uneasy feeling.
He didn't know why.
Nothing had happened.
No alarms had sounded.
No one had raised their voice.
Outside, the festival continued with laughter, music, and dancing.
Inside...
for the first time in his life...
Vox had the strange sensation that someone had just walked into the room carrying a storm no one else could see.
The workshop had never been so quiet.
Not because the students were suddenly well-behaved.
Because curiosity was louder than conversation.
Pirr leaned toward the closed office door until Mira grabbed the back of his jacket.
"What?"
"You're being obvious."
"I'm investigating."
"You're eavesdropping."
"I prefer 'investigating.' It sounds more professional."
Vox remained beside the ancient survey craft, running his fingertips gently across its worn hull.
The metal was colder than it should have been.
He frowned.
"That's odd."
Mira joined him.
"What is?"
"This ship."
"What about it?"
"It isn't just old."
She folded her arms.
"...Go on."
"It was repaired."
She looked again.
"I don't see any repairs."
"Exactly."
The welds had been polished so carefully that they blended perfectly with the original frame.
Only someone obsessed with machines would notice the tiny differences.
Someone like Vox.
"Whoever restored this..."
He smiled.
"...was ridiculously good."
"Better than you?"
He looked offended.
"I said ridiculously good."
She laughed.
"Fair."
Meanwhile, Pirr had successfully reached the office door.
He pressed one ear against it.
Silence.
Then—
The door slid open.
Pirr stumbled forward with a yelp.
Professor Neral caught him by the collar before he hit the floor.
"I was..."
Pirr cleared his throat.
"...checking the hinges."
"With your face?"
"They're very important hinges."
The Council envoy regarded him with a look so unreadable that even Pirr decided not to continue.
Professor Neral sighed.
"Back to the workshop."
"Yes, Professor."
Pirr hurried away, pretending nothing had happened.
The envoy watched him leave.
"Your students are... unusual."
Professor Neral smiled.
"They're young."
"There is a difference."
"There often isn't."
She didn't argue.
Instead, she handed him a thin crystal disk.
"The Council requests your attendance."
"I retired from Council meetings years ago."
"They're requesting."
"They're insisting."
"...Yes."
Neral slipped the disk into his coat.
"I'll consider it."
"The Assembly begins tomorrow."
"I know when it begins."
"Will you come?"
The old professor looked through the workshop window toward his students.
Vox was now enthusiastically explaining something to Mira using entirely too many hand gestures.
Pirr had somehow become trapped inside an empty storage crate.
Two other students were unsuccessfully trying not to laugh.
A faint smile crossed Neral's face.
"I have responsibilities here."
"So does Neptune."
The envoy inclined her head respectfully before leaving.
The workshop doors closed once more.
For several moments...
Professor Neral simply stood there.
Watching.
Thinking.
Then he quietly whispered to himself,
"I hoped we'd have more time."
...
That evening, Xax-NEP prepared to leave the Iron Bastion.
The fortress moved with practiced efficiency.
Soldiers inspected transports.
Messengers hurried through corridors.
Engineers checked stabilizers.
Nothing appeared rushed.
Everything appeared prepared.
Laz found her father standing alone inside the Bastion's observatory.
The room overlooked the endless ocean.
He was studying a holographic map of Neptune.
Dozens of tiny lights marked the floating cities.
One light blinked red.
Then disappeared.
Another appeared.
Then another.
Laz frowned.
"I've never seen that map before."
"It isn't for public viewing."
"Is something wrong?"
Xax was silent for a long moment.
Finally, he answered.
"I don't know."
She stepped closer.
"You always know."
He looked at her.
"No."
"I simply decide before uncertainty becomes fear."
Those words stayed with her.
He deactivated the map.
Instantly the room became darker.
"I'm leaving for the High Council."
"I know."
"You'll remain here."
"I expected that."
He studied his daughter carefully.
"I want you to visit the lower archives."
She blinked.
"The archives?"
"There is a sealed chamber."
"No one enters it."
"You will."
She looked genuinely surprised.
"I thought only the Warlord could."
"Normally."
He removed a small metal key from around his neck.
It wasn't ornate.
It wasn't jeweled.
It looked almost ordinary.
Which somehow made it feel even more important.
He placed it in her hand.
It was heavier than she expected.
"If I do not return within five days..."
Laz interrupted immediately.
"You will."
"I said if."
She reluctantly nodded.
"...Then open the chamber."
"And?"
"You'll know what to do."
She stared at the key.
"What is inside?"
His answer came almost as a whisper.
"The reason I became the man everyone fears."
...
Night settled over Neptune.
Festival lanterns drifted peacefully above Azure Crest.
Children laughed.
Families shared meals.
Musicians filled the streets with familiar songs.
Far away, the Iron Bastion stood silent against the sea.
Two different worlds.
One filled with celebration.
The other with preparation.
Neither realized how closely their futures had begun to intertwine.
High above the atmosphere...
the shadow vessel remained invisible.
One observer stood before a massive viewing window.
Neptune slowly turned beneath them.
"So beautiful."
Another figure entered.
"The Council has accepted the meeting."
"As expected."
"And the Warlord?"
"He travels at dawn."
A pause.
"The engineer?"
The observer smiled faintly.
"He continues exactly as predicted."
"What about the girl?"
Another projection appeared.
Laz.
Standing alone in the observatory.
Holding the small metal key.
"The first piece has moved."
The older observer clasped his hands behind his back.
"No."
"The first piece..."
He watched Neptune rotate beneath the stars.
"...moved long before any of them were born."
Silence filled the chamber.
Then every display went dark.
Only the planet remained.
Blue.
Peaceful.
Waiting.
- Writer
