It was as if the Esthos had drawn in on itself. What I saw on the screen was absolute chaos. Ahead of the fleet, storm columns appeared and disappeared at odd angles. Several planet dumps crashed into one another as they vied for position. Both ends of the columns were clearly visible, giving the impression of a long and deadly tunnel. It was an image of crashing worlds and continuous lightning; a fearful sight that deflated the spirit, and it was through that tunnel that we needed to flee. Imabelai dropped my hand to place both hands over her mouth and gasp. 

Taush grunted. With a knowing nod, he said, “Exactly.”

General Zeas stepped in to face me. “Your Majesty,” he said.

I turned and blinked my eyes, somewhat lost. “Yes,” I replied.

“The GM is failing,” said he in a worried voice. “We have one hope.”

“What is that?” I asked.

Taush spoke from his chair. “Emergency Protocol Zed.”

I was a stupid King. There was so much I simply did not know. I looked between my two Generals, turning to Zeas to ask, “Zed?”

There was no change in the General’s face as he answered. There was no hint of hope in his words, and that worried me. “It has only been theorized,” he said and paused.

I found myself gesturing for him to continue. My hands described a circular motion from him to me. He took a breath and straightened to attention. He explained, “The GM is damaged but not lost. It exists in parts, in separate archives, and in compressed storage blocks.”

General Taush stood and took up where Zeas left off. “It’s all there, but unable to function beyond its basic level. Protocol Zed theorized that the Great Mind could be transferred into the Master GUF.”

I looked at the horror displayed on the screen and almost snapped my answer. “Don’t just stand there. Do what you need to do.”

“We should hurry,” said Taush as he headed for the tree, cap in hand. Falling in behind him, Zeas said, “We have less than a turn.”

The Generals called instructions ahead of us. We stepped from the tree, took the lift down, and gathered around father’s GUF. A moment later, an Anun stepped from the lift and quickly affixed a cumbersome device to the back of the sphere. He stood and nodded to the Generals; Taush wasted no time. He immediately gave the order over his wrist communicator.

“Go,” he said.

I felt Imabelai’s hand slip into mine; I turned to meet her worried gaze. We turned back to the GUF and waited. The inner mists swirled and brightened. The light from within became intense so that we shielded our eyes from the light. A whining sound accompanied the brightening until the pitch was quite high and annoying. Then, every-

thing stopped.

The high-pitched whine was gone, leaving a painful silence. The light in the GUF was gone so that we gasped as we stood in the sudden darkness. Emergency lighting came on, but the GUF remained dark. General Zeas’ voice was harsh as he ordered the Anun.

“Check the masters!” he shouted.

Stooping quickly, the Anun made a hasty check, and answered, “All functioning.”

My Generals walked apart as they began shouting orders through their communicators. I tried to listen, but I could not hear all of it. Imabelai’s grip tightened reflexively as we watched the Generals leap into action.

Zeas shouted, “Go manual! Protocol Hands-On is a go. I repeat, Protocol Hands-On is a go.”

Taush shouted, “Formation change. All military ships to lead. Production ships to Diamond Formation. Seed Ship center. Home Worlds chained.”

Taush grabbed the Anun and pushed him to the lift. Zeas followed, commanding the guards, “Protect the King and Queen.”

We were immediately taken to my apartment, where the guards locked the door and took positions inside with us. I sat worried on the couch, Imabelai in my embrace. The titans stood like statues before us. I trusted my Generals, but I was concerned. In my room, I was blind to all that went on. I understood that Taush was desperate to achieve an optimal fleet formation before we reached the storm columns. Zeas needed to have each craft in the command of a titan or an angel with hands-on control.

The room was silent and tense. I closed my eyes and saw the titan in my dome. I looked at the GUF from where I sat. Its inner mists had returned, struggling to find their paths. The colors were those of the Esthos, a dark and violent blood-red. The inner lightning was sluggish and groping. The space inside of me mirrored the GUF, and the silence was deafening. I heard nothing at all, not even my heartbeat, as if time stood still. 

Then came my father’s voice, pained and distant. “Help me,” pleaded father.

I jumped from the couch; my guards reached reflexively for their weapons. I fairly shouted, “I need to go to the GUF! Now!”

When I saw their hesitance, I shifted. I reached out and placed my hands on the GUF. Lightning reached through the GUF as I threw all my energies inward. Father needed me; I would give everything. The contact between inside and outside made me shake as lightning covered me with bright threads. I could sense the guards rushing into the room, reaching to remove my hands from the GUF. The report was loud as my guards were knocked from their feet. I could see them in my mind’s eye as they lay unmoving on the floor. Imabelai gasped behind folded hands.

Then, they were gone and all my mind could see was the swirling of blood-red clouds. Within the torment were clouds of black. I saw and understood the struggle. LUC had engulfed my father in a stranglehold blacker than black. Inside, the bright flash of lightning sputtered and failed. I cried out in rage as I fell into the tangle, not knowing what to do, only knowing that I must act. I thrashed with arms I could not see; I kicked with legs I could not feel. I fought against an enemy whose rage matched my own.

Rage drove me forward, rage and fear. Blackness wrapped cold arms around me and pulled me down. As if I lay on my belly with cold hands pulling at my feet, I reached for a light that lay crushed and reeling. Just out of reach, the light was dying before me. Screaming silently, I dragged myself forward until at last, I reached out and touched the light. It embraced me; the light absorbed me. We stood, as it were, and turned to touch the swirling angry blackness. It disappeared in a bitter scream, and all was light.

I felt warm as I stepped away from the GUF. I felt as if I had awakened from a nap. I turned to find Imabelai still standing with her hands over her mouth. She ran to me and threw her arms around me. Her tight embrace seemed universal, all-encompassing. I hugged her tightly and inhaled her love. If it were possible, I would have

absorbed her into myself as father had absorbed me. Unlike anything I had drawn from his personal nodes, I was replete with the total union I had briefly felt with father.

As I pulled away from Imabelai and drank deeply from her smile, the lights flickered, dimmed, then brightened. Both of us turned to the GUF as the voice spoke clearly.

“I am back,” said the GM. “All systems are online and in my control.”

With a smile on my face, I happily replied, “Welcome back.”

I bent to pull my titans to their feet. Dazed, they looked around in confusion, slowly taking stock. I took Imabelai’s hand in mine, walked to the lift, and said to the guards, “Follow me to Command.”

We stepped into a tension set to snap. Startled briefly at our appearance, the Generals turned back to the screen. I noted that Anun navigators manned every station as I walked to stand behind Taush. He turned to me and said, “The GM is back.”

I answered, “I know.”

Zeas spoke into his communication band. “On my mark. Now.”

The voice of the GM, seeming to display confidence, filled Command. “I will take it from here.”

The mood in Command changed immediately. I could see the Generals relax; I turned and saw the Anun place guidance crowns on their heads. I turned back to the screen. Columns sped past in a dizzying fashion as the fleet threaded a very narrow eye. Large green orbs flashed in and out of view as the GM guided our arrow-formation

through the tumult. Lightning seared our vision as it crashed past our field of view.

The image on the screen held our attention as it shifted right, left, up, and down. Planets fell together and sent green destruction scattering dangerously near. Silently, the GM took our ships through, guiding pensive souls through utter mayhem.

Zeas checked the node before him and turned to Taush with quiet news. “We are at top speed.”

It seemed beyond reason, but the GM was avoiding our demise at a perilous constant. We were not only impressed, we were speechless. I turned to Imabelai, and we shared the wonder of the moment. The slightest miscalculation would have ended everything. Yet, there we stood, passing through bedlam, our fragile encasements intact. A clearing in the Esthos lay ahead.

“Slowing,” said the GM.

I heard Wiznchour speak from one of the stations. I turned to see him removing his guidance crown. “Our next shift horizon is in the singular column just ahead.”

An angel exchanged seats with one of the Anun. Taush sighed, and ordered, “Ready the pulse drones.”

The storm column came apart grudgingly. Arms of bright lightning tried in vain to stay the breach. The sight of success filled the screen and calmed our anxious hearts. Then, Wiznchour spoke the words all of us needed so much to hear.

“Shift successful,” said Wiznchour.

I walked to Wiznchour and took his hand as he stood. “I Thank you,” said I solemnly.

“We are all relieved,” said he.

We walked to the Generals, who gave orders through their communicators. Imabelai took my hand, and all of us paused to share a smile. Then, we turned, a maelstrom filled the screen, spinning like a fiery wheel. As the fleet turned away from it, I noted the vortex drew green orbs to its center and sucked them into an alternate realm. As we turned, an innumerable number of orbs came into view, an ocean without horizons slowly being drained.

I spoke broadcast. “The red is not so dark.”

Wiznchour answered, “We are close. With your leave, I will calculate the next shift horizon.”

Wiznchour returned to his seat, and I turned to meet the gaze of my Generals. Taush said, “We’re not out of the orbs yet.”

I smiled at his witticism and opened my mouth to speak, when General Zeas suddenly said, “Excuse me,” and walked out of Command.

Taush said to me, “There is still much work to do.” He crossed his chest and followed Zeas from Command.

I turned to my titan guards and asked, “Have we recovered?”

Almost in unison, my guards answered, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

With a glance into Imabelai’s expectant face, I said to my small group, “Let us return. I will ask Bermesh to bring food.”

Bermesh brought food. We pulled together tables in the lounge, and I asked Bermesh to join us. We spent a happy turn in conversation. I got to know the titans and found I had an appetite for their banter. They were humble, modest, and reserved, but their spirits were every bit as hopeful as mine. Conversation turned to the seed world and Wiznchour’s prediction that we were close.

Imabelai and I then excused ourselves, with genuine thanks to Bermesh, Romiel, and Riames. The bed in my apartment was smaller than the bed in Imabelai’s cabin. Still, we managed to sleep. We loved and slept where we fell apart.

My eyes opened; a movement of the air on my face caused me to sit up and look around the dark room. Except for Imabelai’s soft breathing, all was quiet. Yet, I felt unease. I waved a floating light around the room and saw nothing.

A flick of my hand brought darkness back to the room. I stared at my thoughts as one whose mind had disconnected. Nothing made sense of my waking until I focused on my struggle with LUC. He had gone after father, and I was suddenly fearful for Imabelai. My brother’s hatred twisted his thoughts. His power was frightening. I had beaten him back only by the strength of my union with father.

What if LUC came after Imabelai? Could I shield my love; could I protect Imabelai from LUC? My thoughts went in circles. No answer illuminated my course. The dark room seemed to move around me in sinister patterns, fooling my eyes with darker phantoms.

I sat on the side of the bed becoming more anxious with every thought. I found that I was angry. I found that I was grinding my teeth together. Anger fed on worry, and worry fed on fear until I clenched my fists before my face.

Then, the room brightened, and my spinning concerns stopped. The hovering lights sat in place, and I discovered that the light came from me. It was my father’s light, but it came from me. I held my breath, reaching for calm, and slowly, the light faded.

In a sleepy voice, Imabelai called softly. “Come to bed.”