Onestar sat in his office, doublechecking the manifest of materials Estress had purchased on Toram. Most of the materials were necessary for Blaise's Nextasy device (indeed, the Arcane was already locked in his workshop working on the device), but there were a few things included in the shipment for Onestar and Estress' Psionic Helm.
Whisper was sleeping near Onestar's feet, a favored place for the Astrovag. Occasionally, Onestar would unconsciously reach down and scratch Whisper behind the ear, and the creature would growl approvingly. It had been a week since the Wanderer left Toram, and the spherewall was just two shifts away. Hall had found something for all the newcomers to do on the ship: Normakon seemed exceptionally brilliant, well versed in starcharts, and could find his position in the sphere just by looking at a single star. He offered to assist in navigation.
Sir Fairland remained aloof, almost intensely private. He didn't seem to associate with any member of the crew, but some had mentioned that he would just stand and stare at people for hours. Of course, since he constantly wore his full armor, it was hard to tell whether he was staring or just looking off into space. Onestar decided that he might be a problem, and asked whoever was on the helm to quietly 'keep an eye on him at all times.'
Taraq seemed well versed with the blade, and very inquisitive. He was always asking simple, seemingly harmless questions to the crew. Where they were born, what their worlds were like, how this worked, what this looked like. Taraq was assigned to security, and immediately took a liking to Kath. There was something about the Scro he found interesting. Onestar decided that he must find out Taraq's origins; it became top priority.
Estress and Hall, with Onestar's blessing, entered the Repository earlier this morning. After a week of begging and pleading, the samurai agreed to let them enter for one shift, about eight hours. "If you're not out of there by Beta Shift," Onestar told them, "I'm coming in there with a platoon and drag you out if need be." Hall promised faithfully he'd be out. Belieth and Illeria entered along with the pair, just to make sure.
Onestar's thoughts were interrupted by a soft knocking at the door.
"Enter."
The door opened and Normakon floated into the room. Whisper woke, looked at the floating orb and muttered a low growl. Onestar patted him on the head, while Normakon looked down on the creature. Whisper stopped growling, and laid back down, but he didn't fall back asleep again.
"I'd ask how you knocked," Onestar asked, "but part of me doesn't want to know." The samurai started to motion toward a chair for Normakon to sit, but then realized who he was dealing with. Onestar sat back down, and the beholder lowered himself down to just about eye level.
"One of these," Normakon waved an eyestalk toward Onestar. "If done gently, it doesn't hurt that much."
"I see," Onestar leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in front of him. "What may I do for you?"
"You've been patient up to this point, captain," Normakon began, his deep guttural voice calm, "and for that I wish to thank you. There are not many who would allow one of my kind onboard his ship."
"As you can see, all races are welcome aboard the Eternal Wanderer, as long as they put racial prejudices behind them, and work for the good of the ship, the crew, and the mission."
"That is interesting. What makes you think I am willing to follow your mission, your beliefs? I am a beholder, after all."
"True, you are a beholder," Onestar replied, leaning forward slightly. "However, there is something about you. Something I can't put my finger on."
"I am certain that many of your crew doesn't share that belief," Normakon replied.
"My crew trusts me. Although, and I will be honest with you, Hall didn't like the idea of you being here. He thought you might be somehow controlling my mind, or influencing my decisions."
"I hope you assured him otherwise."
Onestar smiled. "I am a psionicist, one of several we have on the ship. I doubt that you could influence any one of us without someone noticing. He accepted my 'feeling' that you could be trusted."
"You take a great risk, samurai," Normakon replied. "I thank you for it. Now, let me reward you for your risk. I shall tell you my origins."
"As you know, I am originally from H'Catha in Realmspace. It is a beholder planet, and it isn't very nice. Beholder wars are constantly being waged, battles taking place every minute of every day. On H'Catha, there is but one mountain, The Spindle."
"I've heard of it," Onestar replied, leaning back listening to the story. "I've heard that beholder factions have been fighting for years trying to gain control of it, for if one ever gains the top, they would gain the power to control the universe."
Normakon laughed. "That is but a rumor, Onestar. I know. I have traveled to the top of the Spindle and lived to tell the tale. The climb is not easy; there are no paths for human hands to grasp. Beholders must float the entire thousand miles to the top, past horrible tests that even the most powerful of our race could not survive. Yet, somehow I did."
"When I reached the top of the Spindle, I could see clear across the sphere. All of the cosmos was revealed to me. I understood my place in this universe. Everything became crystal clear. Beholders are not meant to war with each other; we are to be the greatest sages of the universe. Nothing is unknown to us; we can become powerful seers.
"Were it not for inbreeding within beholder factions millennia ago, we would still have this ability. But, my forbearers tried to create the ultimate beholder, one greater than any ever known. This was our hubris. We were cursed by the gods, the powers beyond, to spend the rest of our days warring against each other, but never understanding why. Only a very select few, the numbers can be counted on my stalks, have ever regained their former glory."
"For whatever reason, travelling to the top of the Spindle increases our ability to know and to see. The 'death ray' we carry with our curse is removed, changed to a beam that detects lies. That is how I knew Estress wasn't captain of this ship. Although, given the planet, I could not blame you for wanting to hide your identity."
Onestar sat back, amazed at what he had heard. Secrets of the beholder nations, revealed to him.
"Incredible," Onestar replied quietly. "Why did you leave H'Catha? Couldn't you stay and help your fellow beholders gain this ability?"
"Many believed I had died when I reached the top," Normakon explained. "There are fierce electrical storm surrounding the summit. And, as I mentioned before, there are hundreds of dangerous traps surrounding the mountain. My kin thought me dead. When I returned to them, they thought I was a doomsphere, or something worse. Cast out, I tried to find other clans, make them listen to reason. They didn't even bother to listen: they attacked my on sight. I managed to escape on a beholder ship, and I never looked back."
"Normakon, you are welcome to stay here, if you wish," Onestar told the beholder.
"My thanks, samurai." The orb bowed slightly, then continued to address him. "Now that I have gained your confidence, I wish to tell you something about the others that boarded ship with me."
"Very good," Onestar replied, standing. "But I think it best if we went somewhere and talked."
Normakon's central eye widened as Onestar walked around to the front of the desk. He opened the door and bowed to let Normakon go first.
Shortly, Onestar and Normakon were in the Repository. They found Estress and Hall gathered around a table, studying some ancient maps and tomes. Illeria, when Onestar arrived, excused herself to go to the bridge, while Belieth glanced through an old spellbook.
Onestar recounted Normakon's tale, with the beholder adding a few notes. All were fascinated, and none spoke until after Onestar finished. Belieth put the book down and joined them at the table (which grew larger to accommodate the newcomers).
*By the Juna, I heard rumors of the Spindle on H'Catha, but I never knew it existed for certain. I shall have to visit it one day.*
"No offence, Estress," Normakon offered, "but I wouldn't make travel arrangements yet. H'Catha is still off-limits to non-beholder ships, and only a beholder could gain the knowledge the Spindle offers. Other's brains are too small to contain all the information. Your brain might literally burst."
"If someone would have told me ten years back that I'd be sitting here watching a beholder and an illithid holding a conversation, I never would have believed them," Belieth remarked.
"That's the beauty of Wildspace, honey," Hall commented. "Anything can happen."
"Now then, you were going to tell us about Taraq and Sir Fairland?" Onestar asked Normakon.
"I don't know much about Sir Fairland," Normakon replied, his multiple eyes narrowing, almost in a look of frustration. "Something about him makes it impossible to read. It might be his armor, or his power. He is powerful, I know that, but what it might be I cannot say."
"Taraq, on the other hand, is another story. He is not from Greyspace, as he might have told you. Have you ever heard of Athaspace?"
The silence in the room was only broken by Hall dropping his pencil to the floor.
"Might I take that as a yes?" Normakon replied.
"You might," Hall replied. "A couple of old friends of ours just travelled to Athas. As a matter of fact, we've read some information about it ourselves."
*Fascinating.* Estress commented. *For centuries, none have heard anything about the world of the Dark Sun, and now, this is the third such occurrence of Athas in six months.*
"Coincidence?" Onestar asked.
*I highly doubt it. How did Taraq happen to come to be on Toram?*
"The city is protected by a mythal, a powerful magic infused into the lands of the city itself. I know how to read mythals: I spent many years on Toril, in the city of Myth Drannor. They have a powerful mythal there. Taraq was ripped from his homeworld of Athas by this mythal and brought to Toram."
"That should be impossible," Belieth commented. "Magics can't penetrate Athas. You need some form of psionics to even enter the sphere!"
"That may be true," Hall replied, "but Estress and I have been doing a lot of reading this afternoon. True," he looked at Onestar, "I'd like to do a LOT MORE, but..."
"Later on, Hall," Onestar said. "What did you find?"
"Athas is connected to the planes. It's possible that, if there was a mage powerful enough to cast, say, a tenth-level spell..."
"Which is impossible," Belieth added.
*Perhaps. Perhaps not.*
"..If the mage," Hall continued, "or something along those lines, they could go through the planes and rip someone off of Athas. We were researching what Taraq might be, and happened to find quite a bit of information on Athas. It seems Lord Monitor's gotten around quite a bit."
"What else did you find?"
"We think Taraq is something called a mul," Hall answered. "There's a cross between a human and an Athasian Dwarf, and let me tell you, they're not like any dwarf you'll ever see. Hairless sentients who must follow a specific path, follow one destiny or else they'll die. Muls don't always happen; sometimes, when a human mates with a dwarf, the offspring simply dies. Other times, Muls appear. The best part? They can't reproduce, but they can lead normal, sexual lives."
"Should we let him know we know?"
"No." Onestar said. "When he feels ready, let him come to us. Don't let on you know anything, and don't tell anyone else on the crew, with the exception of Fr. Armas. Have him stay close to Taraq. He's the only other member of the crew who came from Oerth, and he might be able to help him out. He's a good listener. My guess is if he tells anyone, Taraq will tell Armas first."
"I warned him to be wary of people," Normakon commented. "He will need to develop their trust."
"Very well." Onestar stood, ready to leave. "Normakon, if you want to stay here and get familiar with the Repository, feel free. Estress and Hall, remember, you've got two hours before I come down here and drag you out."
"That's not fair!" Hall replied in mock anger. "You interrupted our research." He sat back in the chair. "I say we need another full shift in here to catch up."
Onestar smiled and shook his head. "You never let up do you. Make you a deal. Another half-shift, but that's all. We're about eight hours from the spherewall, and I don't want any of you trapped in here when we hit the Phlogiston."
Hall looked at Onestar for a minute, then extended his hand. "Deal."
"Good. See you in six hours." Onestar left the Repository, then Hall's library. Onestar decided to give them a little extra time, so seven hours later, he was returning to the library. As soon as he rounded a corner near it, he literally ran into Sir Fairland. There was a slight clang as they bumped armor.
"Pardon me," Onestar commented.
"Forgive me, sirrah," Sir Fairland replied. "I have been looking for you captain. I was looking forward to talking to you, military man to military man."
"Certainly", Onestar replied. "What would you like to know?"
"I've heard certain...rumors about your armor," Sir Fairland's head moved up and down as he looked over the magical splint mail Onestar wore. Even in the dimmed light of the Wanderer's hall, it gleamed with an incredible brilliance. "Is it true that it was created by Lord Monitor of Omnispace?"
"Yes, it was," Onestar replied, as the pair began to walk down the hall toward the library. "He gave it to me as a gift when we parted ways some time back."
"And is it true that it can alter it's shape to suit your needs?"
"It has many abilities. It keeps itself clean, can change its shape, even provide me with a minor amount of air in the void of wildspace."
"Incredible." Sir Fairland stopped and moved in front of Onestar. It seemed, in the dimmed light, the dark shadow grew and moved around. "Samurai, what do you know of the Order of Shadows?"
"Nothing, truthfully," Onestar replied. "Until I met you, I never heard of it."
"That's because it doesn't exist." Sir Fairland reached up and began to unlatch the faceplate. "I made it up, to get here next to you." The faceplate unfastened, then hit the floor. As it did, a dark mass leapt from the armor, striking the samurai so hard he was sent reeling against the wall, knocking him unconscious.
