And why haven’t I heard of it before? Surely my mother would have told me about something as amazing as the heptosphere if she’d known about it. And if she doesn’t know that it exists, then Dr. Veragelen is about to have a lot of very uncomfortable questions to answer.
“It was discovered on Askkandia nearly twenty years ago,” she answers me. “Deep in the Rodos Mountains. For some reason, after what we believe is centuries—if not longer—hidden underground, it started emitting some sort of signal, which we picked up. Excavating it and getting it off-planet was quite the challenge. The Empress had to send in her best research and construction teams to help us. The Caelestis was designed and built specifically to conduct research into the heptosphere.”
So my mother does know about it. But why wouldn’t she tell me before now? She knows how interested I am in the Ancients—and in finding a way to save our system.
Then again, the Empress does whatever the hell the Empress wants to do. Maybe she had a reason for not telling me, or maybe she didn’t. All I know is that this trip is raising a lot more questions than it’s giving answers.
“But what does it do?” Ambassador Terra demands.
The entire room seems to hold its breath as we wait for the scientist to answer.
For the first time, she looks a little unsure. “We don’t actually know.” She holds up a hand as murmurs of disappointment ripple through the lab. “But our research has strongly suggested that it holds the key to revitalizing our dying sun.”
“So this is it?” Ambassador Kellarp says. “This is what you’ll use to save us?”
“It is,” Dr. Veragelen confirms, her tone confident. “We are at the point of uncovering all its secrets, and soon we’ll be in control of its formidable powers.”
“Good luck with that,” Merrick mutters.
His voice is emotionless, but his hands are fisted at his sides, and I sense he’s more shocked than he wants to give away. Of course he’s upset. The Sisterhood of the Light has spent the last several millennia praying for nothing more than the dying of the sun…so they can save us all. Now everyone else is trying to stop it first.
It’s the central tenet of their religion—the welcoming of the Dying Sun—derived from the civilization that seems to have inhabited this system before us. The Ancients, as the Sisterhood calls them, left remnants of an advanced civilization across the nine planets, though mainly concentrated on Serati, the closest planet to the sun and the one most…uncomfortable for human life.
From their studies of that alien civilization, early Seratians deduced that the Ancients were the creators of the system, and they came to believe that at some point, the sun would fail but the Ancients would return to our system in order to bring it back to life and save us all. A religious group developed, the Sisterhood of the Light, claiming the Dying Sun would bring a time of great change and enlightenment, even foretelling the return of the Ancients.
Of course, no one actually knew when the sun was supposed to die—but no time soon. And so, not worth worrying about. In truth, many planets—especially the ones more hospitable to human life, like Askkandia—didn’t have much of a Sisterhood presence at all. While Askkandian children grew up with legends of the Dying Sun, they were considered more fantasy than prophecy. Then, two decades ago, everything changed. Was this around the time the heptosphere turned up? I wonder.
Even though the consequences were immediate and dire, like destruction of ecosystems, declining agriculture, and increasing solar flares, the Sisterhood proclaimed it a miracle, the answer to their prayers, and that we needed to have faith and all would be revealed. People from across the seven inhabited planets started converting in droves.
The Sisterhood isn’t commenting on that.
I guess they think some sort of miracle is going to happen. Unfortunately, the rest of us—the Empress included—just want to stop us from going up in smoke.
As kind as this high priestess seems, right now, we don’t need faith. We need science.
I glance at Rain, expecting to see the same anger on her face that’s on her escort’s. But she just looks curious, her gaze fixed on the heptosphere as though she wants to touch it as much as I do.
“Can we touch it?” I ask. Why not?
But as I move closer, Dr. Veragelen’s guard—he of the tight ass and razor-sharp jaw—steps forward, blocking my way. And he’s big enough to stop me in my tracks. I can almost feel Arik and Vance bristling behind me. Even Lara tenses up, like she’s ready to throw herself between the hottie and me.
I raise my hand to hold them off and turn my focus to the guard. It’s pretty rare for someone to challenge a member of the Ruling Families, and on the odd occasions it has happened, the person usually trips over themselves as they backpedal from their mistake.
This guy isn’t backpedaling, though. Nope. Instead, he’s standing his ground, his dark-brown eyes staring into mine with an insolence that feels very much like a challenge.
That insolence is unwarranted—I’m sure we’ve never met. I don’t remember ever seeing him on Askkandia, and he’s definitely someone I would remember. After all, it’s pretty hard to forget the most striking guy I’ve ever seen—especially when he clearly has the personality of a rabid drokaray.
Maybe he didn’t like me ogling him earlier.
“Step back,” Arik orders in a voice that brooks no disagreement.
The guy doesn’t budge, though he does cock his head in a way that almost seems like he’s listening to some music only he can hear. And while there’s a part of me that wants nothing more than to stand here trading glares with him, I’m painfully aware that we’re drawing a lot of attention right now. Attention that should be on Dr. Veragelen and the heptosphere and not on a pissing contest between some guard and me.
So I step back instead, ignoring the triumph that briefly flares in the depths of his eyes. I have better things to worry about than some arrogant jerk on a power trip. The fate of our world—our entire solar system—hangs in the balance.
“Of course you can touch it,” Dr. Veragelen tells me as I turn back toward her. She shoots the guard an annoyed look, which he returns with an expression so bland it has to be manufactured. “I apologize if there was ever any doubt about that. Private Ian, like the rest of us, is just very protective of the heptosphere.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her, because it is. Scientific discovery—especially of the magnitude she’s attempting—is way more important than indulging my curiosity. To prove it, I deliberately stick my hands in my cloak’s pockets as I resume walking around the sphere. “I’m good with just looking.”
She still seems concerned. “No, really. It’s more than okay if you want to touch it. It’s an interesting experience.” She turns to the rest of the delegates. “In fact, any of you can feel free to touch the sphere while you’re here. It’s made of a very unusual material, and, as far as we can tell, it’s impervious to damage.”