The Fractal Continuum

[Cydnar Yrene]

As the device activated Cydnar felt a surge of something he had all but forgotten. Magic. Not quite like that of Althanas, but all the same distinctly full of energy and promise. Here, even his own geomancy felt alien, as though it were disconnected from the wellspring of his Thayne. He scrutinised the holographic display as it formed in a sphere and flickered over the table top.

“What am I looking at?” It was a ship of some sort, but beyond the size and scope of anything he could imagine.

“This is a design for a new star ship.” Dorn ran a finger along the aft side. “Here, we’re struggling to overcome flaws in the structural integrity of the outer hull.” He pushed his fingers into the image and rotated the ship so that Cydnar could see the area concerned.

“And…?”

Larisa smirked. “You’re an artisan.” She paused. “A geomancer.”

It dawned on Cydnar that he was not a welcome guest for his historical worth. They wanted something from him, that only he, amongst all the elves of tomorrow could provide. He slouched.

“You want me to help build this…ship.”

“Capital vessel,” she corrected. “Yes. Precisely, you’re so witty!”

“I’m so useful,” Cydnar corrected. He turned away from the schematic and looked Larisa straight in the eye. “I still don’t have any questions to answer.”

“And frustrating,” she added. “Alright. Cydnar, would you help us build the Adoria?”

“No.” His tone was flat and suggested he was not to be swayed.

“Pity.”

“Shall I, ma’am?” Lugre shuffled forward in his seat and moved his hand slowly to his side-arm.

“No no,” Larisa tensed. “That won’t be necessary.” She raised an eyebrow at her guest. His face remained a sea of calm, so she nodded, and Lugre unholstered his pistol and rested it on the table’s edge with a firm grip.

“No, unless my companion works alongside me,” he said finally, giving Larisa pause for thought and Lugre growing frustration. Cydnar pictured the pilot as a hothead, ignoring commands for the thrill of another daring action in the skies. He would not be the man’s next medal.

“Witty, frustrating, and yet deviously clever… I don’t think you quite underst-“

Larisa paused as a cold needle of quartz pushed against the back of her neck between the third and fourth vertebrate. Cydnar had formed them the second his guests crossed the threshold into his chambers and kept them levitating silently above their heads. They dropped stealthily and put his point across to the officer plainly.

“I understand quite well, Larisa. What you don’t seem to gather is that I could have left this bar less prison days ago but chose to stay in good spirits and learn all I could of what your ancestor’s actions will bring. Do not think for a second that I am asking.” He rotated the needle just enough to prick the skin and draw blood before pushing it away and dragging it to his outstretching hand.

[Cydnar Yrene]

Used to the nauseating ascent and descent through the earth, the traditional method of transportation for the subterranean Hummel, the lift still managed to churn his stomach. He pictured their chamber descending the unnervingly high structure and bit his lip. He spread his feet to steady himself, as though eh thought he was going to free-fall.

“Everything okay?” Larisa watched him with a smile.

“It’s…a little unusual,” he conceded.

“It took years to finally get used to the inertia.” The lift came to a gentle standstill and the doors opened into a grand, well-lit foyer. They filed out onto the first floor and Larisa took the lead. “This way.”

Cydnar inspected his surroundings as they traipsed across the polished marble floor. The upper reaches were industrial and claustrophobic, but the lower levels were decorative and welcoming, a front for whatever charade the government’s agents played with their ‘guests’ above. The inner wall was a half-circle, in which six similar lift shafts were set and each lead naturally to a circular reception just before six wide archways lead out into the white and bustling blare of the inner-city.

“It’s an impressive building.” He thought about his home, and the indomitable temples carved from ancient bedrock which jutted out of the tundra of Salvar’s wilds and felt nostalgic.

“A crown jewel, apparently.” Lugre grunted.

“You don’t think so?”

“Lugre is a fan of function, not form. He’d rather live in a steam and plasma filled workshop covered in rust than appreciate the finer things in life.” Dorn rolled his eyes non-chalant. “He forgets sometimes that not everyone was born from a puddle of grease.”

“Ah,” Cydnar chuckled. “The Hummel have a saying…we’re products of our birth.” He rephrased for their benefit, “our fate is decided early on.”

“Our people held a similar belief.” Larisa nodded to one of the clerks and waved her credentials in her direction. The clerk nodded back and appeared to enter data into the screen before her. Whatever it meant, Cydnar could only guess. “Everyone, regardless of station plays a role in our society. You’re a builder, a soldier, a merchant…an entertainer,” she lingered, and Cydnar had to guess how sordid entertainment was on this world, “everyone contributes based on their aptitudes.”

They ventured out through an archway and came to a halt atop a jet black raised platform that dropped away into an imposing flight of stairs. The building was raised from street level, further adding to it’s dominance of the city skyline. The wide thoroughfare that ran past was teeming with citizens of all shapes and size, walking in chattering groups or speeding past loaded with goods.

“Welcome, Cydnar, to the city-state of Denisha.”

On the opposite side of the street a row of equally imposing block structures enticed shoppers with neon signs and music. The skyline over head was littered with chimneys and palatial glass spires linked together with needle-thin walkways. Though technology clung to every surface, it reminded him of Althanas. The architecture resembled parts of Ettermire and the bardic traditions of Raiaera. Larisa had been sincere when she said the four races had come together as one.

[Cydnar Yrene]

When he had taken it all in, the sudden rush of sound began to overwhelm him. All he could hear in his chambers were the scouring winds and distant explosions of ships entering and exiting the planet’s atmosphere. Now, a thousand voices and the rush of small transports darting back and forth in roughly organised lines overhead greeted him like a blow to the temple.

“It’s…,” he grunted. “It’s something to behold.”

“Come, it’s a short walk to the landing bay and then we can get to somewhere a little more suited to your…” she left it at that and traipsed down the steps. Dorn and Lugre followed, the need to guard their ‘guest’ seemingly passed.

As much as Cydnar wanted to disappear into the crowd, alone, and unprepared for whatever the future would throw at him he had little choice but to follow. Though his senses flared, ever ready for danger, his heart sung to see the Adoria and his old friend.

“Why is everything so loud?” he shouted over the crowd as they snaked through the river of people.

“It is?” Lugre chuckled, a deep belly laugh that shook his jowls and jangled the tools on his belt. “I don’t notice it anymore.”

“Thirty years of hammers ringing in your ear tends to dull the senses!” Dorn replied, dodging his companion’s swinging fist nimbly.

“You’re at the heart of the city centre, Cydnar. When we get to the workshops you’ll see Denisha in another, quieter light.”

He rather hoped so. Anxiety drove his reflexes into overdrive, and he darted back and forth as though during battle to avoid colliding into somebody. The citizens cast him a furtive glance, but the sight of strangers was common here. The more he looked at the passers-by, the more he realised his attire and complexion were not so unusual as he might be had this been his own world. He spotted elves who had the Hummel skin tone and curved ears, but brawnier and with darker hair, and realised that living as one people had begun to break down the barriers of racial hatred he had known for so long.

“Cydnar!” Larisa cried.

He looked around, and saw the trio standing before a raised stairway that lead up to a circular platform atop which hummed an electrified dome. He realised he had stopped to stare.

“Keep up!”

He made short work of the staircase and watched with interest as the walkway took them inside the dome and into a small igloo shaped recess in the structure. There were no panels or concierges, just a hollow, echoing space. He looked around bewildered.
“If the lift made you have a funny turn I’d brace yourself…” Dorn patted Cydnar on the shoulder and held him steady.

“Errr…why?”

The moment he asked the chamber burst into bright lime light and they all disappeared, evaporating into the plasma conduits and fired upwards into the sky in a split second. They reformed on the deck of a small sailed schooner half a mile over the city, the wind rushing over them and the silence of the open skies swallowing their thoughts. Cydnar, as expected, dropped to his knees and wretched.

[Cydnar Yrene]

“Captain Haut!” Larisa charged up the deck to the flight cabin and embraced a bearded elf who looked like he’d seen better days. “Thank you for taking the charter.”

Cydnar refocussed on his body, and let the conversations going on around him and the cries of the crew fade into inaudible babble. Every bone in his back ached, each limb spasmed, and his heart raced twice as fast as though he had just been stricken with a lifetime’s heartache. He clenched his fists and pushed down onto the deck, trying to rekindle feeling in his fingers.

“Give it a moment then try to stand,” Dorn said softly. He bent a knee and patted Cydnar on the shoulder. “We figured a long time ago telling people what’s about to happen tends to lead to them running as far away from the dome as possible.”

“I can’t,” he wiped the vomit from his chin, “I can’t possibly think why.”

Left alone to compose himself, Cydnar drew on the remnants of his energy and stood, very slowly, to take in the view. The vessel was stationary and linked to a floating platform around which four similar vessels clung. He had imagined an airport in the city, linking the streams of smaller vessels together in a web way of transportation. Now he realised ships of this size flying between the myriad spires would be a recipe for disaster.

“Cydnar, come and meet the captain!”

He turned to the group by the cabin and saw Dorn waving at him. He walked slowly to their side and bowed politely to the grizzled veteran. A great axe was strapped to his back, which was an oddly welcoming sight amidst the wealth of side-arms and flanked by two imposing cannon arrays.

“You’re the geomancer?” Haut asked flatly.

Cydnar nodded.

“Good. Larisa promised me a flagship and I’ve been waiting quite long enough.” Cydnar couldn’t work out wherever or not his tone was threatening, or he was just naturally inclined to seriousness. “I’m Captain Hautelin. Haut for short.” He held out a boulder sized fist and they shook curtly.

“Cydnar, it’s a pleasure.” He held his hand behind his back to click his joints back into place. He cupped both together and tried to look composed. His head still span from the effects of the portal.

“We’ll be at the steelworks shortly, take in the view of the city if you like, but hold onto the railings.” Haut dismissed the party and went back to preparing for departure with gusto.

“He’s been a commissioned captain for the Administrate for nearly a century, as reliable a man as any.” Larisa pointed to the prow of the ship and began to walk towards it. Cydnar followed, eager to take in the view of Denisha from above. “Do you have airships in your time?”

“Alerar has begun mass production of steam driven ships, but they’re more akin to boats floating on ballons than…” he looked around. “This.”

[Cydnar Yrene]

“Impulse drives fuelled by high-density renewable fuel cells.” She chuckled. “Thin of them as endless energy crystals. Regardless of how advanced technology becomes though, we still need sails to outmaneuver the winds, so the planetary ships don’t look too dissimilar to naval vessels.”

The ship had two horizontal fins extending a hundred feet out on either side, and a single mast holding a solar array aloft. It lurched forwards and veered away from the landing platform. Each sail tilted and guided the ship out onto the strong wind currents. A dull roar Cydnar had not noticed grew louder as the twin engines on the rear of the ship fired.

“I am failing to see what my talents can offer such industry.”

“Ah, well,” Larisa leant against the railings and looked out over the sea of clouds. “The Andoria is a space vessel, it’s a whole new branch of technology that has been met with…challenges.”

Cydnar stood besides her and held on to the cold railings. He leant overboard and gasped. Denisha sprawled out beneath them.

“Yrene’s teeth,” he mumbled.

“I did say it was a city-state…” She smiled.

As far as he could see Denisha unfurled over the landscape, a tapestry of districts and disaster that dwarfed even Althanas’s greatest civilisations. A black, calloused blight on the landscape, the city was half clouded by the movement of ships over it’s skies, like a swarm of flies hovering over a carcass. Overhead larger vessels clung to the high winds and here and there, vast ships launched skyward and exploded through the atmosphere into the stars beyond. His mouth hung slightly open with surprise and wonder.

“How many people live here?”

“In Denisha alone there are roughly six million. It rises and falls depending on deployment of troops and the rotation of the merchant calendar, sometimes it’s closer to eight.” Whilst this was the largest city on the planet, Larisa had travelled throughout the galaxy and walked the streets of cities that covered entire worlds. Still, she could see how this would be a hammer blow to her guest.

“I can’t begin to imagine…” He stepped away. “I can’t begin to imagine something so grand existing in my time.”

“You can’t imagine it because it never happens. Rightly so, something like this would consume more resources than the Forgeworld could create.”

“Forgeworld?”

“Ah, sorry. It’s what we call Althanas. It’s the world that forged the galactic empire. All things stem from it, and few get through life without at least learning something of our collective past.”

“That means there’s an archive…” Cydnar’s wizened senses made him curious.

Larisa folded her arms across her chest.

“The Rosary Datacore.” She frowned. “The Administrate take the past a little too zealously if you ask me. It’s a stuck-up temple like building on Denisha’s largest moon.”

Cydnar composed his thoughts to make sure he understood what this meant.

“You’re telling me there’s an archive of my world’s future…your past within reach?”

[Cydnar Yrene]

“Oh, don’t even go there.” She shook her head and began to walk back to the cabin. “It’s hard enough for our most loyal citizens, born and bred here to get so much as a second in the databanks.” She waved at Dorn, “Tell him about the education programme.”

“Ugh, do I have to?” She rolled her eyes and set a spanner down on the workbench she was pottering around. She saw Larisa’s stern glare and sighed. “Every citizen receives compulsory education from the age of twelve, up to twenty.” She slouched. “It’s a generic look at history, of your world, and of how the elven people came to live as one and our part to play in the formation of the galactic territories.”

“Pious, nationalist shit is what she means.” Lugre snorted.

“It’s filtered from the archives and delivered in academies spread across our home world, and sometimes into the orbital colonies and fleets for spacers.”

“Spacers?”

“People born in space, born off-world, those who never get to come home. It’s supposed to bred patriotism, but it just makes them more eager to stay the hell away.”

“So,” Cydnar began to see another side to the projected perfection of his temporary home, “So you’re saying not everyone follows Denisha’s ideals?”

The ship began to descend, tilting forwards slightly in a slow arc towards a wide, flat part of the city littered with aircraft hangers and steam spewing stacks.

“It’s a big, dangerous galaxy Cydnar. We all try to do our best to survive and sometimes that means sticking to your own.” Lugre picked up Dorn’s tool and continued work on a small, glowing device which Haut and tasked them to repair to earn their passage.

“But the common bond keeps the peace,” Larisa added.

“Which is?”

“We’re all elves, in the end. It doesn’t matter if your ancestors were high, dark, or…Hummel, regardless of our private thoughts that bond is stronger than any political agenda or creed.”

“It’s an alien notion but an admirable one.” For Cydnar, who had known only hatred amongst the elven races of Althanas, the idea of people working in brittle, but long-lasting peace was a pipe-dream. Still, it gave him food for thought about how he might begin to integrate the Hummel into Salvar’s culture now they had finished constructing their new home in its snow-blasted wilds.

“Perhaps one day things will change for you,” she smirked. “Perhaps not.”

“I’d say time will tell but,” he gestured wide, “it’s clear the end goal supports that.”

“Does knowing the destination change the journey, though?”

“Ha, if it makes it easier I’ve yet to experience it.” He continued to watch the mechanics at work, using it to distract himself from the growing unease in his stomach as the ship continued to descend a increasing magnitudes.