Meltdown Ophilion - Book One

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They never complained about feeling tired or about headaches or stomach aches. The only pain they experienced was during some of their physical training or while learning the more dangerous Merenthaal techniques. All of them received medical assistance more than once after being injured. The Merenthaal healing techniques were effective and efficient.

While they were on their own, they discussed their theories about the Merenthaal and the Baccaran and how they thought the puzzle fit together. They could not deny the fact that over the course of time their trust in the Antarion had grown.

They agreed that they found it easier to confide in their personal trainers and the Meloria in general; the Almaron were still too mysterious, too unpredictable. There was a side of them that was wild, almost reckless. Of course, they were immortal, and also human. Still, when the Almaron were around is when they laughed the most; their sense of humor was infectious. Could it be that they really are using us as a means to gain control of our world? Orion thought. Could it be that everything they are telling us is true? – that their intent is pure?

***

On the last day of their training they were given a surprise farewell celebration similar to their acceptance celebration. The teenagers were not prepared for the emotions that leaving the Antarious evoked. They had become attached to the Antarion. Whatever doubts they had about the Almaron or even the Meloria were, at this moment, relegated to the back of their minds. These people – from another part of the galaxy – these aliens who could speak their language fluently and knew Ophilion history – seemed to truly care for them; not just for their planet, but for them.

Their time aboard the Antarious had been the most enjoyable four weeks they had experienced in their short lives. They felt a sense of belonging and purpose and camaraderie. It was a very good feeling; the kind one does not wish would end – but this day was the first of their mission, so it did.

Ophilion and Antarion embraced at the airlock. It was not possible to hold back tears and smiles and the spontaneous pain at the back of their throats. It was a peculiar bitter-sweet moment that left the young people's heads feeling light. Part of them wanted to return to their world, part wanted to stay on the Antarious and never go back. There was a part that was between panic and collapse at the thought of what they were expected to do on this day; there was a part that loved the Antarion, and a part that still mistrusted them.

The Merenthaal offered the young Ophilion no words of comfort or concern as they bid them farewell. They told them how impressed they were with them; how they had changed and grown; they told them to remember to focus and think and support each other. They told them that they would see them soon – hopefully in a few days. Clearly, what they were expecting is for them to do their duty – to accomplish this task which they could not, or would not, because it would violate their Code.

The last gesture from the Antarion was to help lift the packs and place them on the backs and chests of the teenagers. They looked at them proudly, surrounding them as they stood at the hatch. Arthur motioned to the hatch release button – it was once again up to them to open the door. Many things, seemingly inconsequential things – like deciding to open a door, or decipher a summons, or make camp on the top of a hill – were left up to the Ophilion. That is the way it had been from the start. The young people looked at each other, then Fel reached over and pressed the lever and the hatch slid swiftly and silently open.

The tunnel had a slightly higher pressure; they felt the air wash over them. It was different from the air in the Antarious. It smelt sterile and dry, it lacked energy, and this unsettled them. Although no one said it, they knew that the Antarion would not accompany them into the tunnel. They looked around at the aliens who had become friends and comrades. All the words had been spoken. The Ophilion could see it in the eyes of the Merenthaal in those last few seconds: they were worried; concerned – for them, for the mission, for Ophilion. They hoped they would get it right; there was no back-up crew for this job.

Orion was the first to break eye contact and turn and descend three steps into the tunnel. The others followed. The pilot didn't hesitate when he reached the Elen-Tron hatch. He pressed the sequence and the door vibrated and pulled in and to the side. The motions seemed clumsy and mechanical compared with the way that everything worked on the Antarious. The Elen-Tron was a beautiful ship, but it was a far inferior one.

The Ophilion turned, once they were all aboard, and looked back down the tunnel. They could see the small faces inside the Antarious hatch. They were not smiling; they thought they looked worried. Arthur nodded at them, then he reached over and pressed the button and the door slid smoothly and silently shut. Celli pressed the sequence and the Elen-Tron hatch closed, slowly and mechanically, and sealed.

The air in the Elen-Tron was better than in the tunnel – it wasn't as dry and had a better smell. The Antarion must have filtered it for us, Orion thought.

The four Ophilion slowly made their way to the bridge, put their packs in secure holds and strapped themselves into the comfortable seats. Orion looked out of the front window to where the Antarious should have been and saw only gray rock. For a moment he had the impression that he had never left this seat since he put the ship down; as if it were possible that he had imagined the last four weeks. He smiled at the barren crater floor. Still worth it, even if they are using us.

"Start engines," Orion said. Celli pressed the sequence. They felt a subtle shudder as the Galmor-Lans came to life.

"All systems look good," Celli informed them. How are the weapons, Fel?

"Restocked – just like they said. They added torpedoes and doubled our laser bank... 'in case things get rough,'" he quoted what Miguel had told them. Fel did not, however, display his usual enthusiasm for large quantities of destructive firepower. After their encounter with the pirates he sincerely hoped he would not have to fire on people again – regardless of their intentions. He would be wrong.

Celli retracted the terrain clamps as they rose from the surface of the asteroid. The black of space and the gray of rocks filled the window. As they banked to the right they were greeted by the white, beige, blue and green of Ophilion. The planet was a waxing gibbous from their perspective. Orion was the only one who had seen their homeworld from space, but that was a long time ago, in a different life.

It was a magnificent, stirring sight; one that they would reflect upon often in the coming days: the image of their homeworld hanging in space, flanked by their asteroid belt. It held the same kind of significance as the gift that had been left for them in the sphere. They resembled each other: a medallion on a chain. Both objects imparted a sense of purpose. One: an artifact from across the galaxy that connected them, personally, to aliens from another dimension; the other: home.

This is why they had agreed to go through with the training and the mission. Home - the people of Ophilion; their people.