"Regia, stop!"
Telga's warning to cease came a fraction of a second too late as Shawn sprung to action, watching that firearm swing toward him. He was not letting that weapon be aimed anywhere near him.
He twisted his body to be inside of her arm swing, and forced the weapon upward, grabbing the avian woman's wrist to keep the firearm aimed skyward, away from everyone else. He then grabbed her vest to throw her off balance, and kicked at one of the digitigrade legs, stumbling her and attempting to send her to the ground. But she had also taken a firm grip on him in the tumble, bringing both of them down, and falling on top of him.
By that point he'd grabbed the gun away and pointed it straight up at her as she'd reared back, trying to reach for a secondary sidearm inside her vest. She had gotten it halfway out before she heard the click of the hammer being cocked.
"Please, don't," he warned her, and both of them frozen, mid-action. He took her appearance into detail for the first time. She was a warrior of some skill, based on her strength and incredible reaction times, based on her lean muscle, well-cared-for teal feathers, and a few light scars where the feathers parted on her arms, and one on her cheek. Her wings were spread and tensed, with blue and teal banding colorations. Her dark beak was pressed tightly, and her ocean-blue eyes focused on him with deadly intent.
His warning may have been the only thing that gave her pause where they remained near-motionless, with her gripping his shirt with one hand, knee down on his stomach. He'd barely registered the impact or the difficulty in drawing breath. Her breath was tense, and he saw her clawed hand twitch in anticipation. He glanced over to Telga, who had been mid-speech on telling them to stop. "Telga, is she with you?"
"Yes! This is Regia, my chief security expert!" When he rolled his head to catch the frantic expression on Telga's face, he knew it was a pure, reactionary response. He glanced down at the revolver in his hand, the hammer half-cocked already, and he slowly slid his finger off the trigger. "Please don't shoot her! Regia, they are not our foes!"
"That remains to be seen," the irritated avian snapped, and continued to glare at him, her feather crest on her head ruffled in a sign of aggression. He noted the sides of her feather crest had been trimmed down, almost like an avian buzz cut. It suggested a surprising level of style that he hadn't anticipated. "Where did you come from? This place is locked down, even the cargo teleport isn't running!"
"We're travelers from Earth. Telga's portal pulled us in, in a delayed fashion." He spoke dead steady, trying to use reason and rationale to get through to the woman straddling awkwardly on top of him. She'd moved fast–almost as fast as him. "I am not your enemy. Now, I'm gonna lower this weapon, and we're all gonna be calm about it. I would prefer the courtesy if you did the same."
"Slowly." It was barely more than a hiss, but it was enough.
He slowly removed his finger from the trigger before he pointed the weapon away, very slowly. She never blinked as she watched the motion in detail--intense, raptor-shaped eyes. "Now, can you get off of me?"
After a few seconds of tense standoff, Regia smiled faintly with a creasing of her beak. "Been a while since I've been caught off-guard. You're quick." He took that as his sign to slowly decock the weapon and lower it, while she slid hers back into her vest. She stood up, and after a second of hesitation, hauled him to his feet. "And apparently, you know how to use that."
"I've used firearms before. I've studied them…haven't built one, though." He glanced at the weapon, aimed down and away from the others. It looked like a double-action revolver, and he noted the hammer could be cocked to a readied state. Six slightly oversized rounds sat in an ammo cylinder.
When he unlatched the catch and pivoted the cylinder out, he noticed the entire cylinder could be removed–indeed, Regia had a few extra ammo cylinders with the open ends secured on her vest. "Interesting design. This looks like Earth tech, and has influences from…The Unica Six. A weapon you've likely never heard of. The barrel is aligned with the bottom of the cylinder, not the top. The trigger is oversized for your fingers and gives more relief, so your claws don't catch. Double action trigger, a quite lengthy barrel for a sidearm. The rounds also seem…" he frowned. "Oversized. Interchangeable cylinders suggest a pragmatic approach to improving the firing rate and reducing reload times. The weapon is light, but it's a beefy frame."
"Well, now, someone who appreciates the design. That's a first." The woman stood considerably taller than him when he tilted his gaze upward, and he offered the cylinder and firearm frame. She accepted it after a second, then she reloaded the weapon before holstering it on her thigh. "Regia Halcyon, sorry for the hasty reaction–it's my job to handle threats. What do they call you?" She extended a clawed handshake; he hesitated a bit before offering a hand. This woman was trained, of that, he was sure. Dangerous, too. But, probably not to him and Claire.
"Shawn Pentecost, of Earth, and my cousin, Claire–would you stop giving me that look?" he asked agitatedly, daring a glance at her
"You almost got killed twice in five minutes!" She pointed accusingly at Regia. "Does he look like a threat?"
"Anyone who can disarm me that smoothly? I'd say yes. I'm always on the lookout for danger, and there are reasons for that," she added, then she pointed a clawed finger at Telga, who scoffed. "Ma'am, my job is to keep your feathered ass alive. You didn't think to tell me about this?"
"Welcome to five minutes ago. We were headed to the observation level to discuss our situation." Telga put a hand on Regia's shoulder for reassurance, and she took that as her sign to relax in posture, limbs no longer tense. "My last attempt at the portal worked...sort of."
"Forgive me if I don't sing any praise, Telga," she retorted, arms folded, and took a step back from the snowy white avian. "They make any wrong moves, they're taking the express trip out the door."
"That won't be necessary," Telga snapped, but offered her conciliatory tone when she glanced back at him and Claire. "Please, I'm sure you have many questions. We should walk and talk."
"We should do a lot more talking and a lot less almost-killing people," Claire snapped, having remained in a coiled stance the whole time. "What is with the tension, are you guys expecting armed killers?"
"Yes," Regia answered with a single click of her beak.
"Wonderful." Claire nudged past Regia to examine Shawn and pointed at a hole in his shirt–a scrape on his chest from Regia's claw was present, with a tiny bit of blood. "Are you guys dangerous to human anatomy?"
"No," Telga shrugged. "There are other humans in this world. Among other species." Shawn did a double take and his jaw parted slightly.
"More species? Sapient species?"
"Come with me, and we can go into greater detail," Telga answered.
Every step Shawn took in this surreal world brought a sense of wonder that comic books and dozens of stories he read as a kid couldn't. They paled in comparison to the surreal nature of an actual, sapient individual from another world.
Telga tried to diffuse the tension while walking, her claw striding slightly longer than theirs. "You know, you act like we'll be the most surprising thing you'll see today." Regia was beside him, her hand gravitating toward the holster on occasion.
"Should I not? We don't have digitigrade, avian humanoids where we come from, not even counting portals–magical or technological. I find that there is much to talk about from a scientific perspective." She raised a feathered eyebrow at that. "And social, magical, artistic…you get the idea."
"Shawn, stop nerding out! You're talking to a real-life tengus, from a fantasy novel. Pretty sure we are going to top that at least a few times today." Claire took up stride next to Telga, who stole glances at the two of them while she led them down the hallway made of slab stone and occasional metal frame reinforcement. "Okay, a few questions, if you don't mind. Are you familiar with the physical sciences? Chemistry? Is your atmosphere similar in composition to ours? Can you fly? Are you a derivative or related to any earthly avian species–"
"And you accuse me of nerding out." He couldn't hide a faint smile, despite his best efforts. "Claire, I love the barrage of questions–but we are asking the wrong ones. Telga, what does your species call itself?"
"We are Aveeran. And yes, we fly." When he examined the wingspan and did a rough estimate, his math came up short.
"The math of your wingspan doesn't add up unless you're capable of immense thrust or you've got hollow bones, and a lightweight body frame." Telga clucked contentedly at that–a vocalization that was more bird than human. "I can reasonably conclude that your limbs have a high power-to-weight ratio, appearing like a lean athlete from comparable human physiology."
"Your math is not wrong, but incomplete. However, gliding is preferable over longer distances. Powered flight is energy intensive. Also, that was a shrewd compliment."
She had picked up on that. She turned to peer while leading them up a staircase, to a higher level–stone bricks and a simple metal safety rail guarding against slips and falls. "What else can you infer on how this is possible?"
"This question alone might take a while to unpack–hmm...what else…" Shawn noticed something about his gait. It seemed more…loping. He also felt a little lighter. "Telga, do you have a standardized measurement system on this planet?"
"Metric. This is a historical connection to Earth, and some intermittent arrivals–but not by my design." She didn't mention who, though, he noted. "What is your query?"
"What's the gravity constant? I feel lighter, like the stairs are easier to climb."
"Ah, solved part of it, have you? The gravity constant up here is about seventy percent of Earth if my records are correct; it's comparable to the outermost orbital layer. It's around seven meters per second squared."
What was an orbital layer? He'd have to follow up on that one, later. "But the atmosphere is breathable. There's a causal relationship between gravity, and atmospheric density. You respire with oxygen, yes?"
"The lack of suffocation on our part would indicate that, Shawn," Claire pointed out. "I want to hear more about this magic you mentioned. We don't have that on earth." They climbed the stairs and entered a new corridor behind another latching door. It looked like a dormitory area, but there was minimal lighting. The low glow of ambient light–similar to Telga's ability–floated like small globules just above head height in the polished tile and slab stone corridor. Smaller doors had demarcations for names–likely, people's assigned quarters. "You summoned us here with...magic?"
"Correct. The last remnants of my divine strength were barely enough to bring you here. Your intact state is nothing short of a small miracle." Telga guided them through the hallway where a few humanoid-sized furnishings were arranged, and they were headed toward a larger set of double doors. "These powers we have? We call them the gestalts. Almost everyone has one–either inherited or acquired."
"But you're a cut above, you said divine. Like, actual gods?" Shawn had to scratch his head at that. "Yet here you are, flesh and blood."
"I…was." The way her voice halted gave Shawn pause.
Regia also gave a sidelong glance to Telga and sighed. "I told you that your misadventure might have costs–"
"I don't need to be reminded of the price we paid," Telga shot back. He could feel the tension settle back in between these two. Some kind of discourse had been going on between these two for a while–well before he got here, he theorized. "Suffice to say, there are those of us above and beyond what the gestalts are normally capable of. We are called 'Radiants' in the common parlance."
"Her, not me. I'm just a gal with a penchant for tactics, paintings, killing monsters and zealots, and keeping her impulses in check. Telga, have you broken to them where exactly we are?" Regia asked and pointed to the double doors. "You might put them into pure shock on this one."
"It's easier to show it than it is to explain it. The view outside should give a clear indicator." She motioned for them to follow her, and unlocked the latch before motioning for him to open the door himself. "I'll give you a few moments to take it in."
"They're gonna freak," Regia said with a click of her beak, but made no motion to stop her counterpart. He opened the door and stepped out to a walled garden–and so much more.
The garden was very much that, a garden with shrubs, low trees of green and teal leaves, with colorful flower equivalents, verdant and bright. There was a chatter of small birds nearby, foreign bird calls unfamiliar to him. The entire area was walled in by stoic-looking gray brick, expertly shaped and forming a barrier wall.
At the far end was a metal fence that overlooked something. A fountain sprinkled water in a spiraling arc in the center, yet another oddity of physics that seemed broken. But Shawn and Claire gasped when they looked upwards. Gravity being broken was now the least of impossibilities.
They were not on Earth. Above them was the gleam of an otherworldly nebula shining brightly, and a sea of stars twinkled behind the celestial beauty. Ghostly tendrils of the nebula traced across the sky in small whorls and arches, with green, blue, and yellow streaks painting its outline, as his gaze followed the endless expanse. A red star accented the sky, low to the horizon of where they were, and his arms fell to his side while his brain tried to reconcile this.
They were in space. The garden was in space. There was a faint glow of some kind of atmosphere around them that terminated in a faint blue shimmer, just beyond the threshold of the walls. The fact that his lungs didn't instantly collapse or his body simultaneously boiled and froze like it would if exposed to a hard vacuum, gave him a modicum of relief. But he did hold his breath for a spell longer than he should. "Whoa. Well, the engineer in me says that we should be dead. Yep."
"Shawn?" Claire sounded shaky and knelt on the grass–he thought it was grass, because it looked like grass from Earth–and she rocked on her feet unsteadily. "Shawn, this can't be real."
"This is Remaria. Wherever it is." A cold trickle of fear draped his back, everyone he's ever known was so incalculably far from him, that he couldn't even compute it. He forced himself to take deep, slow breaths. The greenery still smelt like fresh-cut grass, and cedar.
He peered at the railing. There was a hint of something round in the sky obscured–was it a ring? A planetary ring? He couldn't see the rest, he saw just the tip of a lemon-colored ring, like Saturn. He continued his advance and walked along the dusty-colored brick path.
The closer he got to the railing, the more he was filled with fascination. The outline of a planet was in the sky. A world of green and blue, like Earth. When he got to the railing, he gripped it tightly. Claire let out a low gasp. "Shawn, what the hell am I looking at?"
"We are not in Kansas anymore." he gripped the railing tightly and felt his stomach lurch. Down below him was a planet.
An entire planet.
But the planet wasn't right. On its surface, he saw that it had that wonderful marbling of brown, blue, and green, just like Earth would. But that is where the similarities stopped. This world was fractured. He could see large chunks of the world missing. No, that wasn't it. They were free-floating across each other, giant fissures forming between continents. Water formed vast sheets where the ocean would drop into a chasm…and down into another layer. This world was hollow. Even now–some of the water looped impossibly, and against gravity, back around the planetoid.
Below, sunlight filtered from the dwarf star, to the giant, gleaming crystalline towers he could see from orbit, conveying their impossible scale. They gleamed with brilliance, and carried the light deeper into the layers, gleaming like small suns themselves where they terminated in spherical endpoints, illuminating the deeper continents–it was difficult to even look at them for more than the briefest instant. There were other layers below those, some marbled with greenery–others barren, dusty looking. He could make out at least three distinct orbital layers, where the majority of the tectonic masses seemed to form around.
He then realized what they were standing on, and he was wonderstruck. They were orbiting above the world. Their garden ended at a terminus. Raw rock, earth, and roots clung to the side in a sheer drop. He dared to lean over the railing, and realized their position must be a small moon. A tiny moon that couldn't possibly have enough gravity to hold him to the surface, let alone have a breathable atmosphere. It was terrifying–and in a moment of brilliance, utterly awe-inspiring.
This place…was something special, alright. He didn't have words for this. It was like someone had taken a Matryoshka doll, and applied it to an entire world. Whole continents and seas, split and separated from previously one congruous spheroid, each layer showing the same fractured composition. But there was greenery down there. There was life.
"Shawn? Should I be terrified? Or inspired?" she let out a slow breath and clung to the railing for dear life, even dropping her body low to the frame.
"It's a spectacle of something incredible." He couldn't take his eyes off of this sight. "I want to dissect how this place defies gravity. How every bit of physics says that the world should collapse inward. How this world can't possibly be hollow. But all I can see is the beauty of the impossible."
"Remaria is a special place." Telga and Regia had emerged from the doorway without a trace of sound, and the snowy white Aveeran spoke in a tranquil tone. "This place is a conflux of worlds beyond, a nexus of gods and mortals. What you see below, is our hallowed world. Our home."
"I would say hollow, but given that you have godlike beings walking around–assuming you aren't embellishing–the name fits quite well." Shawn pointed to the fragmented world. "And what threat is down there that pushes you to what might be an act of last resort?"
"My brother." She hung her head low, and Regia let out an irritated click of her beak.
"You should have killed him when you had the chance–"
"He is family!" Telga shouted with a flap of her wings, agitated by the callous comment from Regia, her golden eyes locked onto her counterpart. Regia gazed at her, unflinching, and crossed her arms while leaning up against the doorframe, one clawed foot tapping.
"He is so far gone, Telga, it's a disservice to call him family. He made one thing clear: he will kill you. He will do whatever he deems necessary, to obtain power." She stepped toward Telga, but looked right at Shawn and Claire. "Make no mistake: He is an enemy and a dangerous one, at that. He cannot be reasoned with. We tried. We failed."
Shawn put up a hand to interrupt. "Why is he so dangerous?"
"He has an army, a creepy gestalt, and a passion for violence. His followers, acolytes, whatever they call themselves, are committed to his vision of making the world whole." Regia looked nonplussed, having to say that.
Shawn glanced at the broken world, then back at her. "I presume you mean the nature of the scattered, disparate civilizations, down below?"
"Hah. I wish. See, he thinks he can make the world whole. Except if he pulls it off, it'll be a cataclysm worse than what split the world into pieces," Regia stated deadpan. His eyes widened, and several apocalypse movies instantly played through his head.
"I was hoping you were being figurative."
"Yeah, me too. He's hit some roadblocks, but…"
"He's a threat to the whole world. He's tearing apart everyone in his path, with an obsessive vision to reunite the world. He might just destroy it, in the process." Telga leaned onto the railing, claws making a soft metallic tapping sound, and her eyes narrowed and focused on that central core. "I know what you're thinking. This place defies logic."
He nodded calmly, thinking about that impossible beauty, down below. "There's a lot I have questions about."
"You think I'm crazy."
"Not something I haven't thought about myself, either," Shawn responded. "You think we can help stop him?"
"I know you can. You're intelligent, driven, unafraid. All precursors to make that happen," Telga answered confidently.
"But, how?"
She let go of the railing and gazed at him, her beak set firmly, her eyes filled with a spark of determination. "By granting you the power of the gestalts."