Untitled Space Xianxia - Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Bad

“Soulship LC-81535 requesting permission to land.”

“LC-81535, I don’t see you on our docking schedule for toda—wait. Did you say soulship?”

“I did.”

“Holy fuck. Let me just—”

“Language!”

“Oh, yes. Sorry ma’am. You’re clear for dock sixteen. Welcome to Fyrion. Somebody fetch Elder Berkowitz! We’ve got a—”

I couldn’t hold back my laughter as the poor dock worker reacted to Lucy almost exactly as I had, with the added bonus of shouting at someone before his mic cut off.

Lucy sighed. “Don’t ever do that where they can hear you.”

“What? Laugh?”

“Not unless somebody’s purposefully made a joke. Laughing at a cultivator is a surefire way to wind up in a duel—a duel you’ll lose because you can barely hold a sword.”

“No duels. Got it,” I said, trying and failing to wipe the grin from my face.

I watched our approach from Lucy’s bridge, or what might’ve been the bridge a thousand years ago. No longer needing human controls, Lucy had converted the room at the bow into a viewing deck. Leather chairs with full impact harnesses lined the back wall of the largely empty space. From the floor a large table could emerge for meetings and meals with guests unwelcome in her soulspace, but we didn’t anticipate its use.

Fyrion was two things—small and gray. A complex web of dark lines coated its surface, formations carved into the planet itself to direct its qi towards its only settlement. Such enchantments were far from fully efficient, but they’d still make the outpost itself far and away the best place to cultivate. Given the planet’s lack of atmosphere, it was also the only place to cultivate.

The settlement itself, confusingly also called Fyrion, had the population of a mid-sized freighter: about a hundred thousand, of which five thousand cultivated. The mortals did all the actual work of keeping the city running, from commerce to hospitality to maintenance to mining the planet’s rich silver deposits, a lucrative business that the Dragon’s Right Eye taxed heavily in exchange for their governance and protection from raiders and void beasts.

Fyrion-the-city sat at the center of the web of trenches, a mass of glass and metal with all the aesthetic design of a prison. The docks were far and away the tallest part of the structure at some eight stories tall. I supposed with an entire planet at their disposal, building up wasn’t strictly necessary.

I strapped in as we neared dock sixteen, tugging the harness over my dull red t-shirt and brown leather jacket. I’d found the latter garment hanging in my closet, part of a collection that came in every color the cultivator pants did. For such an important day, I wore a matching set, first impressions and all. None of the clothes quite fit me, of course, but already in my time with Lucy I’d bulked up a little. She assured me by the end of the year I’d fill them out quite nicely.

We attached to the docking arm with a remarkably slight jerk, an unsurprising testament to Lucy’s experience as a pilot. As the gangway telescoped out to meet us, I unclipped my harness and made for the airlock. My suitcase awaited me there, packed with the various belongings Lucy had given me.

I saluted and I fought to slow my racing heart as the airlock hissed open to reveal three people in pale gray cultivator pants and matching military-style button downs, each bearing the sect’s insignia and a sigil displaying their rank. Apparently such hierarchies varied from sect to sect, so I didn’t have the faintest clue whom I was dealing with.

On the left stood a severe-looking man with short, gray-flecked black hair. On the right, a middle-aged brunette woman sized me up. In the center, a woman who looked like she had great great grandchildren hunched over a black wooden cane. She didn’t even look at me, casting her gaze upward and speaking to the open air.

“Welcome, venerable ancient. I am Elder Berkowitz, Matriarch of Fyrion. With me are Elders Lopez and Smith. We hope you’ll find what you’re looking for on humble home.”

I almost burst out laughing then and there at a woman that old calling Lucy ancient, but I managed to stifle it. It seemed the people who ran the place had come to greet Lucy personally, and the last thing I wanted to do was piss them off.

“I hope so too,” Lucy replied, cutting right through the formalities to answer the elder’s not-so-subtle question. “I have a student for you, a promising young cultivator I found in deep space. He’s opened four meridians almost entirely on his own, and shows the ambition it takes to defy the heavens.”

That last bit was her polite way of referring to my foolhardy push to open my meridians in less than ideal conditions. Whether or not the elders picked up on that meaning remained a mystery.

The man, Elder Smith, scowled. “All potential cadets are welcome to undertake our entrance exa—”

He cut off as Elder Berkowitz elbowed him in the ribs. “Of course, honorable ancient. The Dragon’s Right Eye is happy to accept such a…” She looked me up and down. “…unique pupil. May I ask what he was doing in deep space?”

I opened my mouth to answer before remembering I was supposed to keep silent in the presence of the elders.

“He worked as a vac-welder,” Lucy answered. “Remarkable, isn’t it, that he managed to make the strides he has under such circumstances? I’m sure under your fine tutelage, he’ll continue to thrive. I ask no favoritism, simply that he receive the same opportunities as your other students. I’ve taken an interest in his progress, but it must remain his progress, understood?”

“Absolutely, wise ancient,” Elder Berkowitz replied. “We shall make the utmost strides to look past his… mortal upbringing and consider him one of our own.”

That didn’t bode well. Not once as anyone uttered the words ‘mortal upbringing’ with good intentions. Those words were for discriminating and for pretending you weren’t discriminating, the latter of which seemed to be Elder Berkowitz’s case.

“As well you should,” Lucy said. “I entrust him into your care.”

“Good,” the old woman barked. “Elder Lopez here will get him situated while we discuss details and answer any questions you may have.”

“With me, cadet!” the middle-aged woman ordered before turning on her heel and striding away.

I broke my salute and scurried after her. The end of the gangway opened up into a cavernous dock complex abuzz with activity as workers went about the daily business of loading and unloading various bits of cargo.

I didn’t worry too much about what Lucy and the other elders were talking about; I already knew the gist of it. They’d flatter and appease her in the hopes of winning her favor while she gathered as much relevant intel about the sect as she could. In the end she’d refuel, vacate the dock, and enter low orbit, where she’d be a comm link away. Ten times out of ten I’d have preferred to stay with Lucy over whatever lodgings the sect offered me, but their sect, their rules.

Word of the soulship had apparently spread like wildfire through the mortal population, as countless eyes tracked Elder Lopez and I from the moment we stepped into view. Luckily enough, the elder set such a quick pace that I didn’t find much opportunity to gape at the attention.

She led me up a set of metal stairs to a platform for a transport tube, from which promptly emerged a single sleek, gunmetal gray pod. Inside sat two opposing rows of pristine leather seating, complete with a wooden table and porcelain tea set.

“Greetings, Elder Lopez. Where are you headed today?”

I wondered if the artificial voice synced with her holopad, or if this was her personal transport pod. Knowing the excess of cultivators, I leaned towards the latter.

“Student Housing D,” she said, sitting in the rear-facing row. I sat opposite.

“Very well,” the tin-can voice replied. “Destination: Student Housing D. ETA: eighteen minutes.”

The door shut behind us and the pod took off, accelerating gently yet consistently for some time. Elder Lopez wasted no time.

“Give me your hand.”

I blinked in confusion before obediently resting my right hand, palm up, on the table between us. She grabbed it.

“I’ll have to appraise your cultivation. Let me in if you can.”

Before I could nod my assent a spear of foreign qi shot through me. Instinctively my own qi rose up to fight off the invasion, washing against the vibrant energy like a tidal wave of cool darkness. I stabilized my breathing and fought to pull my defenses back, but already the elder’s qi had pierced them.

The probe darted around, poking and prodding at the walls of my center and the entrances to all twelve meridians. It ran right through my four open ones, sending jolts of heat and discomfort through my body. I grimaced and bore through it, maintaining my focus and holding back my qi as best I could until at last she retreated.

“Your control is awful. It’s a wonder you’ve survived opening the meridians you did.”

I lowered my head. “So I’ve been told.”

“Whatever foolishness possessed you to start with your vital organs has no places here on Fyrion,” she continued.

“Yes, elder. I have a lot to learn.”

“You have too much to learn,” she snapped. “But you’ve found yourself a powerful benefactor, so you’ll be taught.” She swiped around on her holopad for a bit before returning her attention to me. “Can you cycle?”

“I can, but only with my full attention.”

“That’s a no, then.” She tapped on her holopad again. “I’m enrolling you in meditation one, cycling one, and combat one. You’ll be in class with our pre-recruits, children of sect members who aren’t yet old enough to fully join. If you has as much potential as your benefactor claims, I’m sure you’ll catch up to those your age within the year. If not, I’m sure she’ll understand your failure.”

I silently nodded, taking note of the entirely unsubtle threat. Advance out of the kiddie class or get out. I could do that.

“You’ll take morning workouts and meals with the others in your housing block. Try not to make any mortal enemies of your neighbors. We determine sect ranking based on scheduled and unscheduled duels, and more than one grudge match has ended fatally. Given their role in evaluating cadets, fighting is mandatory. If you reject an official challenge, you will be removed.”

I gulped. Now I couldn’t just avoid fighting, I had to avoid getting challenged in the first place. They really weren’t going to make this whole ‘no duels’ thing easy.

“I’m understood then,” the elder said as she noted the look on my face. “Now,” she said, sitting back dangerously casually, “tell me how you’re masking your qi.”

I blinked in surprise.

“It’s obviously a technique of some sort. I could feel its resistance, but I couldn’t feel it. You’re like a corpse. What have you done? Is this something the soulship taught you?”

“It’s-um… a part of my Way?” I tried.

She huffed, the annoyance in her voice undermining the words she spoke. “Close to the chest. Smarter than you look. Perhaps we can make something of you yet. You should know that the sect will pay handsomely for knowledge of any technique outside our database.”

I kept silent.

“Think on it,” she told me, her tone carrying the subtext that I’d be an idiot to miss such an opportunity. “You may find it in your best interests to stay in your elders’ good graces.”

I decided I didn’t like this woman.

The pod came to a gentle halt as we reached our destination, and the door swung up to reveal a luxurious lobby. Uniformed cultivators milled about, reading and chatting and drinking tea as they lounged on the various couches and armchairs. A number of hanging potted plants and an entire green-wall brought life to the space, a gorgeous yet undoubtedly expensive-to-maintain way to decorate.

Two dozen sets of eyes burned a hole in my back as we crossed the lobby. I could feel the cultivators sizing me up, judging my hair, my clothes, the look on my face, the size of my suitcase, the way I walked. To them, I wasn’t a peer. I wasn’t a potential friend. I wasn’t a human.

I was a threat.

A circular desk sat at chamber’s center, behind which sat a mortal man with a startled look on his face. He jumped to attention at our approach.

“Elder Lopez, ma’am,” he greeted us. “The dorm you requested is ready.”

“I should hope so. I gave you ten whole minutes.”

Ten minutes didn’t seem like a lot of time, but I didn’t question her.

“Number three-oh-one,” the man said. “He’ll be the only one on the third floor.” The man gave me an apologetic look, one I didn’t quite understand. An entire floor to myself? Yes fucking please.

“That will do. Take him to his room. I have more important matters to attend to.”

“Yes ma’am,” the receptionist said, still not breaking his salute.

“Go with him,” the elder ordered me. “You’ll have the day to situate yourself, but tomorrow you’re to arrive at class on time, understood?”

“Understood.”

She glared at me.

“Understood, ma’am,” I corrected myself.

“Good,” she grumbled. “You’re dismissed.”

I saluted once more as she turned on her heel and departed, leaving me in the care of the mortal receptionist.

“Right this way,” he said, leading me towards a grand arcing staircase. “Can I take your bag?”

“No, no, I got it,” I said with a smile. “I’m Cal, by the way.”

“Oh, I’m-uh… I’m Arthur,” the man replied, visibly taken aback.

“So tell me, Arthur, how’d I get so lucky as to get an entire floor of my own?”

He laughed as if I’d said something funny. “Our lower floors are all taken, unfortunately. You could move down if you found someone willing to share a room with you. That’s what most third-floor cadets wind up doing.”

“And I would do that because…?”

Arthur faltered. “For the qi. You are a cultivator, yes?” He exhaled. “Housing D is already the furthest from the formation’s center. Climbing away from the planet’s surface only makes it worse. You’ll find yourself at a disadvantage compared to your peers, spiritually and socially. Your sect mates will see accepting such a poor placing as a sign of weakness.”

“Oh. That makes sense. Sorry. I’m a bit new to all of this.”

“I picked up on that,” Arthur said. We passed the second floor and continued on to the third, where we stopped at the very first door. “Three-oh-one. Welcome home.” He swiped his holopad. “Access codes for your room and for the building. Bathrooms are down the hall; cafeteria is on the first floor. If you’ll forward me your measurements, I’ll arrange for some uniforms to be brought up.”

A request for sizing data popped up on my holopad, and I tapped accept.

“Perfect,” Arthur chimed. “I think that’s it then. I’ll let you get settled in. If you have any questions, I’ll be downstairs.”

I bid him thanks and stepped into my new home. The door slid shut behind me.

Room 301’s full bed, simple wardrobe, and lack of in-suite bathroom made for a definite downgrade from Lucy’s luxurious captain’s quarters, but having it all to myself automatically made it better than my cabin on roofie or the freighter before it. At least I had a window, a long horizontal thing that stretched across the entire back wall. Even standing in the doorway I could see the stars. Somehow, they were the most comforting sight I’d found on Fyrion.

I plopped my suitcase down onto the bed and went through the motions of unpacking, which mostly consisted of tossing clothes into drawers and stashing the bottle of whiskey I’d stolen from Lucy’s storage between two pairs of pants. Hey, I had to make friends somehow, right?

That done, I sat crosslegged on the carpeted floor and set to meditating. I still had about two thousand questions I needed to ask about how this place worked, but my first priority had to be acclimating myself to the local qi. I didn’t know how long it would take, and I couldn’t very well show up to my first classes getting a headache every time I tried to cultivate. I mean, I could’ve, but it wouldn’t have been a very good look.

I evened out my breathing, visualized my center, and sent qi running through my four open meridians, reveling in the sense of cool, quiet, comfort the process generated. I cycled for a few minutes before I stretched my perception beyond the boundary of my skin, experiencing the spiritual environment of Fyrion for the first time.

It felt like standing on the sun.

Heat and light and noise blasted me from all directions as it emanated from the planet below and saturated the very air. There was less of it than in Lucy’s fusion core, but it spilled out and forced itself upon me rather than keeping mostly to itself. If Lucy’s cultivation room was a sauna, my dorm on Fyrion was a pot of boiling water.

My focus shattered. I returned to reality with a pounding headache and blood dripping from my nose. I groaned. This was going to take a while.

I stopped for all of two minutes to grab a tissue for my bleeding nose and a few gulps of water before resuming once more. Still it burned, still it blinded, still it screamed, and still I tried.

In adherence to my earlier promise, I won’t bore you with the details of my continued attempts to acclimate myself to all the qi. Just rest assured it was a long and painful process that I very much did not finish.

It took four and a half hours before I could consistently maintain my focus under the barrage of qi, and however horrifically unpleasant I still found its presence, that would have to do for the time being. I pushed myself to my feet and stripped out of my sweat-soaked clothes, rubbing my temples to combat my aching head as I did.

I found a towel folded in my wardrobe, so I wrapped it around my waist to protect my precious modesty. I may have had the entire floor to myself, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be staff members wandering the hallway between here and the shower. The last thing I wanted to do was blind some poor maintenance worker with my pasty ass.

So it was that drenched in sweat, with a line of dried blood down my upper lip, fighting off a brutal migraine, and wearing nothing but a towel, I left my room to find an absolute ox of a man with an untamed mop of blond hair and a cultivator’s uniform grinning down at me.

“Newcomer!” My aching head throbbed as he practically shouted the word. “I, Xavier Honchel, future champion of the Dragon’s Right Eye, hereby challenge you to a duel!”

I sighed. Gods damnit.

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