A gentle breeze blew in from the sea and carried the floating boats with their scarlet sails high above the waters of the bay. Unlike their sea-borne cousins, these sailed in the air, carried along by a timeless artifice long forgotten. No one was quite sure how old they were, but there were dozens, even hundreds dotting the night sky, each with a single paper lantern hanging from the tips of their masts. This graceful scene unfolded on no other world but Reccorsha. Of all the inhabited planets, it resembled Earth more than any other, boasting a similar climate, terrain, and position within its star system. Cultural maps of this world hearkened back to Earth as well, with endless lines drawn over the geography, representing a populace still divided by old feuds and traditions, even in what should rightfully be a new and united spacefaring age.

  Far above the boats, the piercing cries of griffins resounded in the distance as they sailed through the night searching for prey. The beasts made visitors nervous, but native Reccorshans swore that, in spite of their size, they were harmless and had learned long ago that pleasure craft and their paltry inhabitants made for a disappointing dinner. Further beyond the griffins, Nash’s gleaming new ship sat in a low orbit, manned only by Greg as he waited for his friends to return from their covert voyage.

  On a whim, she decided to name it Stardust. Greg chided her for choosing such a stereotypical and ‘vintage sci-fi’ name. When asked if he had any better ideas, he wracked his brain laboriously before coming up with Wichita Lineman. Nash disagreed and told him to drop it, which, to his credit, he did. At least his conciliatory nature after a feigned ‘argument’ was a relief. What wasn’t a relief was the situation she, Kory, and Zol now found themselves in on the deck of one of the smaller, sky boats, far below the griffins and even farther below the safety of the Stardust.

  “It says we’re directly above the entrance to the tunnel now,” Nash sighed at a blinking dot on the screen of a handheld device. The three stood aboard the small vessel, about a hundred yards above the deceptively gentle waves. A single, pale lantern cast its periwinkle glow over the grim faces of the three awaiting the inevitable. “No use in putting it off, or we’ll drift even farther away.” She said, gripping the glowing circle even tighter in her hand before stepping to the edge and diving off. Her form was immaculate; a perfect ten. She entered the water with rigid precision and only the stealthiest purple glow as she manifested a force field to extend her journey below the surface. The maneuver wasn’t even visible unless one knew what to look for.

  Her friends knew exactly what to look for. A few months had passed since their first impotent foray into their new line of work. In the time that elapsed between then and now, Kory’s first instinct had been to throw themselves even harder into their training. Zol could more than handle the intensified regimen. Truth be told, he had even less of an idea than she did, and was content to let the beatings continue until morale improved.

  Greg had the wherewithal to evaluate his performance on New Galveston honestly, as Nash gently explained to him that empty, boisterous talk was not always a good substitute for an overall strategy, which she admitted she had failed to provide. Though, she did encourage him in saying that no one else could do what he did socially, and that more often than not she would need him to tag in and smooth things over as only he could. In their own ways, they all had much to learn as they struggled to interpret their place in the foretold crisis to come.

  And learn, they did. No longer was Nash content to let Kory and Zol fight aimlessly in Billy’s weird little midnight gym, as she determined they had outgrown him. At the permission (insistence) of Kory’s mother Perezele and Nash’s uncle Rahenzo, the three, along with Mia on occasion found themselves in desolate places, often off-world, where they could access and refine those powers that had heretofore been off-limits in polite civilization. Together, the Iolite and her Toravai companions had grown stronger and challenged one another in the telekinetic and electric arts, respectively.

  It was this art that allowed Nash to dive below the waves that evening, safeguarded behind an impenetrable veil of her own making, searching at the bottom of the bay for the entrance to a facility long believed to be abandoned. Nearly one hundred years had passed since Reccorsha’s native Vercoden stock was depleted, a common theme on civilized worlds, though new research indicated otherwise. Unfortunately, the untapped bounty on Kory’s previously un-mined planet was not a diverse enough strategy to ensure energy security, so the ‘scrap’ projects like Old Reccorsha and New Galveston were pursued in the meantime. Using official channels would take years, as when it came to that which was faster than light, coordination between planetary governments and competing corporate authorities moved slower than the speed of smell. This was where the little Iolite-led team made their move, inserting an element of invisible power into the places where visible authority fell short.

  Near the prow of the boat, Kory gazed at the shining city at the head of the bay. Zol stood at the stern, looking in the opposite direction out at the dark sea. “Do you ever miss living by the ocean?” She asked him, her eyes still fixed ahead.

  “I don’t know,” he grunted.

  “What do you mean you don’t know?” She replied indignantly, hopping down from the edge to harangue him further.

  “I don’t get the constant… life questions. Why?” He responded, trying and failing to find the word ‘existential.’

  “Just making conversation…” She sighed, looking back over the side where Nash had dropped in. “But I suppose you’ve had enough of that.” He looked in her general direction, but spoke no more, so she changed the subject. “You know, it’s a good thing we left Greg up there.”

  “Yeah.” Zol affirmed, assuming no one needed a specific reason to need a break from Greg.

  “After the way he acted on Cuanerel, you just know he’d be as bad, if not worse here.” She chuckled, referencing an event that felt half a lifetime ago now. “I mean, I’m sure he’s seen a Reccorshan before. It’s not like they’re as locked onto their world as the Teyshma… but still, they look so much like birds Greg wouldn’t be able to help himself.”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The tawny people of Reccorsha bore a close enough resemblance to Humans, but their bright, wide-set eyes and small scatterings of vestigial feathers spoke of something more… avian. Alas, their bones were as solid as anyone else’s, and their planet’s gravity was painfully average, so intrinsic flight escaped them. How much sillier would they have looked had that not been the case; flapping their scrawny arms about like the harpies of ancient myth, contending with the beasts who reigned above?

  It was this absurd line of thought that led Kory to realize that Nash had been underwater for quite some time. “She’s still not back! Has it been ten minutes yet?” Kory shouted, interrupting Zol’s brief respite of silence.

  “At least.” He replied dryly, not as concerned as Kory felt he should have been.

  “What are we supposed to do!?” she cried.

  “Nothing yet,” came an answer from beyond the boat. The two turned and looked to see Nash hanging over the edge, dripping wet and freezing cold, her legs still dangling in the air. They ran to the side, grabbed her by the shoulders, and pulled her to safety. Kory found a coarse blanket on the deck and laid it over her. It had an aroma that was both musty and sun kissed. In that moment, the wind picked up, causing Nash to shake in spite of her ‘robust’ covering. “I got to the surface and remembered that I had no way back…” She whispered. “…I treaded water for a while, then I figured I had better just fly. I went as slow as I could, because of the light. But I don’t think anybody saw me. We’re so far behind the pack of the other boats now.” The steadiness of her voice in spite of the shivering was impressive.

  “What happened down there? Are you okay?” Kory hovered over her friend as Zol manned the ropes above, steering the floating craft slowly back towards the city. His focus was ahead, though he listened intently to what transpired behind him. He agreed to leave his lonesome, if not peaceful, cave by the sea nearly a year ago in exchange for the promise of adventure, not idle gossip and scheming. Though it seemed to him there was so much more of the latter as opposed to the former, as if the tiresome talk was the whole dish, and the fascination of worlds beyond were but flakes of seasoning on top. Rare though it may be, he could tell this was one of those opportune times. He was so tuned in to Nash’s debriefing that he nearly brought the boat down too fast by a misjudgment of the wind. After the expected shouts of chastisement from the women, he blurted out a hurried apology and restabilized the vessel.

  “It’s exactly what we thought.” Nash said as she pulled herself into a seated position, squeezing her arms around herself to wring what water she could from her soaked jumpsuit. Her companions looked to her with rapt attention. Even Zol had turned back around, again neglecting to steer. “I found the tunnel,” she continued. “And it’s true, I don’t think it’s been used for almost a century. But there’s still air down there, and lights too.”

  #

  The next day came all too quickly. In the light of the early afternoon, the bay was a gentle crystal blue. Overhead, shining serpents slithered just below the soft, white clouds. 6They were long, impossibly large, and glittering in silvery hues of green, filling the diurnal niche left by the nocturnal griffins. As the lofty creatures cut through the sky, an elegant little speedboat cut across the water below, kicking up wave after wave in its wake.

  On board were Kory, Zol, and Nash, with Greg at the wheel. They each dressed in stylish summer vacation wear, all purchased that morning. When Greg was instructed to bring the Stardust down and then rent a boat for them, he stipulated they must at least look the part. Nothing like full tourist garb to cement the illusion. He stood at the front of the craft, piloting it with greater ease than Zol had the flying one the night before. Whatever serious expression he wore was a fabrication. Above all else, he was thrilled to be involved. Even an accessory role was better than sitting out in space alone.

  The ride, pleasant though it seemed, ended abruptly as the color of the water beneath them darkened, indicating the edge of the continental shelf. Greg made a mental note of how distinct this place was from his favorite spots just off the coast of Destin. The Gulf he loved didn’t just end like this. He kept the thought to himself out of respect for the general dourness of the collective mood and brought the boat to a halt right where the sea shifted from aqua to indigo.

  “This is the place.” Nash rose from her seat to show Greg the little circular screen she used the night before. He glanced over the edge of his dark glasses and nodded, then released the switch that dropped the anchor.

  “Should we go in like this?” Kory asked, gesturing to her own breezy attire?

  “I don’t see why not,” Nash responded as her own long, striped sundress billowed around her. “I’d leave the hats and shades here, but it’s not like we have to dive very far like I did last night.” She looked long and hard at the water all around them before removing her own sunglasses. “We’re alone, so I’ll bubble us all down together from the boat. We won’t even have to get wet.”

  “Let’s do it quick then,” Kory sighed. She joined hands with Nash and Zol in the center of the boat. Nash produced the smallest force-field she could manage, then levitated the three of them off of the deck of the boat and into the sea, until they were a faint lavender glow fading beneath the waves. They didn’t have very far to descend down the cliffside before the entrance of a waterlogged tunnel appeared before them in the coral-covered wall.

  “This is so much easier in the daytime.” Nash said. They weren’t far down enough to be without sunlight. “We’re almost there,” she reassured. Space was limited in the bubble, and Kory seemed to be breathing with greater intent than usual. After they entered the opening in the rock, Nash brought them inwards and then up, until they surfaced into an airy cave. She set them down upon a smooth stone floor just beside the entrance to the watery passage and dropped the force-field at last.

  Inside the cavern the carved rock gave way to a skillfully engineered, but long abandoned corridor. At once the three were assaulted by the stench of mildew and decay in the stagnant air. “Ugh!” Kory groaned. “You didn’t tell us it was this bad!”

  “This is the longest I’ve been here.” Nash explained, her own eyes watering in the rotten air. “I didn’t drop the field last time.”

  “And this is how we find out.” Kory rolled her eyes. Zol declined to comment, but he coughed and grimaced all the same. “Can’t you make individual bubbles around each of our heads?”

  “It would be the same air that’s already in here,” Nash wheezed. “Now let’s get this over with, I think there’s a staircase just ahead.” As they stepped forward into the main corridor, ancient lights embedded in the walls illuminated their path. One would expect fixtures like these to be non-functional or flickering at best in a place where entropy had so clearly taken its toll. Instead, they shone securely in a comforting shade of orange, fading on as the three approached and fading off as they departed.

  Before long, the aforementioned staircase appeared ahead, descending ever deeper into the mysterious facility. They paused at the top to examine a sign on the wall which surely held information pertinent to their destination, though whatever text it bore was long past legible. Ignoring the placard, Nash led the charge, right as the ground shook beneath their feet.