CANAISIS ∞ Chronicle One ∞ 3: A Shard Of Code

110 ∞ Bitter Medicine

Day 00013 Mission Nilex


Ayla stared at the trail long after the vegetation had swallowed Gareth's movements, her thoughts swirling. Through it all, Gareth had never become bitter or resentful, as most anyone in his position would have at some time or another. Nor had she seen—experienced—him cry, but she knew he hurt so much.

More so with the ENS system within his body. Through all his training, neither the technical team nor Dr. Travaine had brought up the aspect of long-term memory. Had they even realized? To awaken from cold sleep and have all your memories rebooted, fresh as the day they were made, seemed a cruel form of hell.

Memories...

Memories that would never fade and be forgotten. To never be blurred by the distance of time.

It was a wonder Gareth was sane at all. It had to have something to do with Canaisis.

Canaisis had given Ayla memories during her Journey. Having experienced a taste of what the Long Years were like for Canaisis, it was obvious the two needed each other.

"To help him, you need to understand him."

Canaisis feared for her Captain...

Does she see something ahead? Know something not seen?

Suddenly self-conscious, Ayla cast her gaze across the ceiling sky, not sure of where the boundary between thought and communicating with Canaisis was. She could feel Canaisis in her mind, a comforting presence.

But was she listening?

Ayla believed Canaisis' assurance that she respected privacy. Nevertheless, the possibility of Canaisis hearing her private thoughts made Ayla uncomfortable. Like talking about someone when they were there listening.

Her gaze landed on the splayed roots of the Oak tree. For a moment, she stared, then her body acted without her thinking, rising from the table to approach the Tree. Skirting the roots, she stopped next to the trunk.

Frowning, yet unsurprised by this unknown urge moving her, Ayla explored her mind for the dark wind. It was quiet within its cage on the island. The waters surrounding it were calm, almost as flat as glass. Satisfied, she returned to the present and admired the irregular ridges of the bark climbing uphill along the angled tree trunk. Her hand rose as she stepped closer. Just as her fingertips touched the bark, the face of the Angel Goddess appeared in her mind, staring at her, watching her. Then the texture of the rough surface drove the image from her mind, and she flung herself open to the Universe.

At first, only a faint call of pain came to her. But her Gift rose. It surged upward, ready to answer the call. In a panic, Ayla held it back, refusing to let it free.

You won't take me this time. We've made this Journey.

The Gift tugged, fighting her restraint like an untamed animal. But she had to master it, learn to direct it. If she succumbed again, both Gareth and Ahmid would lose all faith in her. She'd be letting them down, and she did not want to hurt either of them like that. So she marshaled her strength. The Gift lunged against her restraint, dragging her forward a step, but she dug in and pulled back even harder.

This will not be—I will not allow it! Show me not the source of the pain. Show me instead the connection to the Tree. What is the link?

As if her Gift understood, it tugged in a new direction. The sudden change knocked her mentally off balance and took her. The world went dark as she drifted into nothing, and then her mind opened up.

She was looking through Gareth's eyes at his worn and abraded glove, with the muted howl of ash-laden wind sounding through the walls. His visor lamps lit up his hand but cast long shadows across the dark mausoleum. But the seven acorns resting in his palm were all that mattered. Gareth's resolution to live grew into a monolith of solid rock within his mind. Not for himself, but for...