Escape

To t
hose who dare,

And to those who dream.

To everyone who’s stronger than they seem.

“
Believe in me
/
I know you've waited for so long /
Believe in me
/
Sometimes the weak become the strong
”
—
STAIND,
Believe

Prologue

“T
ell me a story, Daddy,” Kieran said.

“Aren't you too old for that?” Reddick mocked from the bed beside his.

“It's late,” their father, Thanos replied. “Get some sleep.”

“Please
 
.
 
.
 
.
” Kieran wheedled.

Thanos sighed. He dragged the storytelling chair from the corner of the room and placed it between his sons' beds. Then he turned to face the nightstand between the beds, where a globe-shaped lamp stood, lighting the room in a soft, yellow glow. His data pad was right where he had left it the night before. He retrieved it and turned it on as he sat down.

“Let's see what we have here.” Thanos began scrolling through a long list of books, looking for something short he could read.

“You're going to spoil him if you keep giving him everything he wants,” Reddick said. He was 12, and he was too old for bedtime stories. It was embarrassing.

“Aha!” their father exclaimed. “I think I've found something even you will appreciate, Reddick.”

Reddick crossed his arms over the thermal blankets across his chest. “I doubt it.”

“It's educational. From the earliest recorded history of civilization.”

“Ewww!” Kieran said.

“Now that's more like it!” Reddick sat up in his bed, and drew the blankets around himself to keep from shivering. Outpost 110 had always been cold. The Frontier Mining Guild liked to save money by dialing the climate controllers low, and Thanos did the same.

“Don't worry, Kieran. I'm sure you'll like it, too. This story is from the Constantic Codices. It's about the origins of our race. There's an important lesson in it.”

Thanos cleared his throat and began reading:

“In the beginning, our ancestors lived on a world teeming with life and natural beauty. They called this world Earth. The Elementals smiled on them, and they prospered. But the more they prospered, the more dissatisfied they became. They wanted more than what the Elementals had provided. To ease their dissatisfaction, they changed everything about their environment, until barely a hint of it remained. Soon they grew dissatisfied with even the environment they had changed, and they sought the stars for new worlds to change, but they found none like the one they had maimed
—
”

“What's maimed mean?” Kieran interrupted.

“
—
destroyed.” Thanos went on: “Their attention drew inward, and they began to change themselves. Since the Elementals had created them from dust, they breathed life into the dust and inhaled it, that they might become more alive.

“They breathed in more and more of the living dust, until it made them like the Elementals who had created them.”

“Elementals don't exist,” Reddick interrupted.

Thanos Hawker arched an eyebrow at his son and smiled. “What makes you say that?”

“No one has ever seen them. I thought you said this story was going to be historical.”

“It is.”

“Well, it
sounds
like an etheritale.”

“Not all the elements of a story need be true for it to contain truth. Do you want me to finish the story, or not?”

“I do!” Kieran said.

“I suppose,” Reddick grumbled.

Thanos went on: “Their heresy had blinded them. So when their eyes changed colors, until they glowed red like blood, they were not concerned, because they could see better than ever before. Their bodies grew stronger, and their skins paled, but they were not concerned because now they could live forever. Their minds became as one and they could hear each other's thoughts, and they
were
concerned. Their personalities changed; they became more aggressive, and they
were
concerned. Their appetites changed; they began to thirst for raw flesh, and they
were
concerned
 
.
 
.
 
.
but it was too late.

“The dust swept across the Earth, floating on the wind and changing everyone in its path. And so the changers were changed.”

“This is stupid,” Reddick said.

Thanos smiled. “This is your history.”

Reddick lay down with a sigh, and Thanos went on: “This became known as the Great Rebellion.

“A few of our ancestors escaped. They hid beneath the oceans, where the living dust could not go. They cast the dust from their bodies and lived beneath the waves for a time, three times, and half a time. Here they created the eye, and with it they looked for a new world where they would no longer have to hide.

“They found Terra, a world like theirs had once been: green, with blue skies, and life that had been created, not changed.

“Together they boarded a ship, the
Escape
, and passed through the eye. They shut the eye behind them, so none of the living dust could ever follow. The Elementals had given them a second chance. Vowing never to be so foolish again, our ancestors cast aside the old ways in exchange for a simple life. On Terra our ancestors lived in peace and harmony with their environment for many, many generations. They prospered
 
.
 
.
 
.

“But the more they prospered, the more dissatisfied they became. They began to change everything about their environment, until barely a hint of it remained. Soon they grew dissatisfied with even the environment they had changed, and they sought the stars for new environments to maim.”

Thanos turned off the data pad. “The end.”

“What a stupid story!” Reddick said. “Can we get some sleep now?”

“I liked it,” Kieran said.

Thanos smiled down at Kieran. He placed his data pad on the nightstand and turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

“What was the lesson?” Reddick thought to ask.

“That history repeats itself.”

Reddick muttered under his breath: “Even the lesson was stupid.”

Thanos started from the room, chuckling as he went. He stopped in the open doorway of their bedroom and turned back to them. “Trick question. What's the most important thing in life?”

They answered in unison, their voices deadpan: “Every precious moment of it.”

“Do you have to ask that
every
night?” Reddick asked.

“I wouldn't want you to forget.”

“Not likely
 
.
 
.
 
.
” Reddick muttered.

“Goodnight, boys.”

14 YEARS LATER

Chapter 1

“W
hat's the delay?” the Imperator asked. His eyes were fixed upon the rainbow-colored vortex of light, the trademark swirl of a trilinear space gate. The Imperator was standing in front of the long, semicircular wall of transpiranium viewports which made up the eyes of Fleet Commander Mathos Sereki's flagship
—
the one and only of its kind, a
paragon
-class leviathan with 48 squadrons of interceptors, fighters, and bombers. It also held 42 medium-sized warships and landing craft in it's spacious hangars. At 6 milé-astroms long, it was the pride of the Union fleet, with a crew of nearly 100,000 sentinels.

The Imperator turned from the viewports to look up at Fleet Commander Mathos Sereki where he sat in the captain's chair, in the center of a rounded podium, conferring by holographic conference with a small army of highly-decorated men and women
—
the captains of the other ships in the battle group. Twenty of them in all. Each captain was an admiral of a Union fleet, but for the purposes of this mission, each only commanded their own flagship
—
identical, brand-new,
arbiter
-class leviathans
—
smaller versions of the
paragon
-class at just over three milé-astroms long. None of the admirals had been allowed to bring supporting ships from their fleets. This mission required the utmost discretion, and as such, it had been entrusted to only the most loyal officers.

Likewise, the Imperator hadn't dared to bring any of his democratically-elected counselors. Unlike himself, they were obliged to serve every whim of their electorates, whether or not those whims ultimately served the best interests of the Union. Bred and born for the position of Imperator (along with dozens of less suitable candidates), he, Dreklaus Chevari, had received every possible instruction and genetic advantage in order to help him best serve the trillions of beings, spread across the thousands of worlds, which made up the Union. Only he was properly suited to make those hard choices which would benefit not only the current generation, but all generations to come. Unfortunately, his reign was limited to his depressingly short lifespan.

But perhaps, not for long.

One by one, the holographic images of the admirals began fading from the fleet commander's podium, and Dreklaus started up the staircase to the podium. By the time he reached the top, he was standing alone before the fleet commander. “Well? Are you going to answer my question?”

“A thousand apologies, Imperator.” The fleet commander inclined his head respectfully, but did not stand and bow as he should have. “I was just discussing strategy with my admirals.”