《An Excerpt》


 Chapter 83: On a Mangalian Junk

    An Excerpt fromPlanets and Peoples of the Dark Arm: My Journey across the Spur of Leda, from Erostera to Lebenda and Back Again, and What I Discovered along the Way; by Professor Rouxaan Okkum of the University of Vyecourf, Published in the Seventeen-Hundred-and-Third Year of Our Lady, May Her Wisdom Guide us Always.


    Chapter 83: On a Mangalian Junk.


    Leaving the Atalyans to their silly feast, I booked passage on a Mangalian junk, which, luck would have it, was bound for the next stop on my journey, the System of Swyti. On the third day of alignment, I befriended, with the help of a bottle of Atalyan vysky, the captain of the junk, a swarthy fellow named Barbura, who spoke heavily accented but understandable Hetric. Several hours into our conversation, the captain, being a typical Mangalian in his fondness for licentious tales of personal excess, tales which I shall spare the reader out of kindness, having held the floor for most of that time, turned to questioning me.


    He asked me what a Fontishman such as myself was doing travelling alone in Leda. I told him, as I had told a hundred such curious minds, ¡°I am looking for the Starting Line.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°You mean Jurati,¡± he said.


    Now, only a fool would believe the words of a drunken Mangalian, but my interest was piqued. Every planet and planella in the Galaxy claims to be the long lost Cradle of the Race, and so it was not surprising that this man would presume to know its location. But keep the following facts in mind. The Mangalians have what might be one of the most ancient cultures in the Galaxy. Those strange Mangalian towers can be found on almost every civilized world. This is, of course, the result of the nomadic nature of the Mangalians, who travel from world to world on their endless and queer errands, but the generally ruined condition of the towers and the recent advances in bishmit dating, point to a perhaps prehistoric origin. Ask any Mangalian of the location of the Starting Line, and they are liable to name the nearest world and tell you a story to make your head spin. But here was a Mangalian on a short-range junk in the Spur of Leda, naming a place I had never heard of.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    ¡°What is Jurati?¡± I asked. ¡°Is it a system?¡±


    ¡°It is a world,¡± said the Captain. ¡°It is the world where everything started. It is the world where the gods once lived.¡±


    I had never heard a Mangalian speak of his gods. They are professed heathens, but normally very secretive about their beliefs. ¡°The gods?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the Captain. ¡°Shakti, Shiva, Vishnu. A thousand, thousand gods. They all lived on Jurati. That is where they made the Race. Out of fire and mud they made the Race, and out of the soul of the dead god Brahma.¡±


    The Captain¡¯s drunkenness had turned somber. He spoke at length about his beliefs for some time. He told me of a god who rode a giant bird whose wings were lightning, and of a god who frightened an ocean into submission. He told me of a god who could fly, and who no weapon could touch, and who could burn with a glance and freeze with a song, and who could lift the world as easily as a mother lifting a newborn babe, and who only ever did good deeds. And he revealed to me that he believed in the Jarm, like the Naitrists, and that every man and woman would be reborn again and again in different shapes and forms, forever. At last I asked him, ¡°And you say it all started on this world called Jurati?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said, ¡°on Jurati.¡±


    ¡°Do you know how to get there?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said.


    I asked the Captain if he would be willing to change course for Jurati. He was hesitant at first, claiming that Swyti had much better trade goods. I asked him if Jurati had any valuable resources, and he replied, ¡°They have very good lumber, but it is expensive.¡± I offered to help finance a load of lumber, and the Mangalian¡¯s natural greed got the better of him. The alignment calculations for Swyti were abandoned, and those for Jurati begun. Nine days later we were ready for the jump.

 Chapter 84: A Wondrous Discovery

    An Excerpt from Planets and Peoples of the Dark Arm: My Journey across the Spur of Leda, from Erostera to Lebenda and Back Again, and What I Discovered along the Way; by Professor Rouxaan Okkum of the University of Vyecourf, Published in the Seventeen-Hundred-and-Third Year of Our Lady, May Her Wisdom Guide us Always.


    Chapter 84: A Wondrous Discovery.


    When we arrived in the Jurati System, a system called Salt by the Jurati natives, I was given permission to study the sensor trays. The system was home to a handful of planets, and perhaps a dozen planellas, as well as the usual assortment of hasteroids and comets, all of which orbited a single goldwork star. The Captain pointed to a rather unassuming planella in the inner system. ¡°This is Jurati,¡± he said.


    He next pointed at an even more unassuming planella nearby. ¡°This is Mangali.¡±


    I was taken aback. ¡°Mangali? Home of the Mangalians?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t come from Jurati?¡±


    ¡°Everyone comes from Jurati. We come from Mangali.¡±


    If I had been wiser, I would have questioned why this Mangalian junk captain was revealing to a foreigner, even a Fontish foreigner such as myself, all his people¡¯s most closely held secrets. I would later discover the motive behind such loose talk and action, much to my detriment and dismay. But at that moment I was still ignorant, gazing as I was in rapt wonder at the sensor trays.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    On closer inspection, I could see that the interstices between the worlds were absolutely filled with the types of ruins that make Leda so famous and so mysterious, and which had originally brought me to the region on my quest. Spinning-wheels, tunnels-in-nothing, parasols. All the strange and ancient structures we learn about as children and a dozen more I could not name. But perhaps the strangest of all was the presence of an okracone, which are common around Fontain and the surrounding systems, but are virtually nonexistent elsewhere.


    An enormous structure near the goldwork star was obviously a pacifier, but it was the largest and most bulbous pacifier I had ever set eyes upon. And the moon of Jurati! Such a moon I have rarely seen orbiting such a small planella! It was a planella unto itself!


    ¡°What is that moon called?¡± I asked the Captain.


    ¡°It is called the Moon,¡± he said. ¡°All the other moons are named after that one. All the other moons in the Galaxy.¡±


    At that moment, I believed him. I had been to a hundred worlds in Leda, all claiming to be the mythical but certainly real Starting Line, but this world before me, this little Jurati, quietly spinning in its garden of unutterably ancient wonders, this little planella was the genuine article. This was it. I had found it. I had found the Cradle. I had discovered the Starting Line of the Great Race, the prize which men and women had been searching for for generations! I was dizzy. I would be famous. I had found it.

 Chapter 85: The Dugan

    An Excerpt from Planets and Peoples of the Dark Arm: My Journey across the Spur of Leda, from Erostera to Lebenda and Back Again, and What I Discovered along the Way; by Professor Rouxaan Okkum of the University of Vyecourf, Published in the Seventeen-Hundred-and-Third Year of Our Lady, May Her Wisdom Guide us Always.


    Chapter 85: The Dugan.


    Dear readers, I know you may not believe me when I tell you that the Starting Line has been discovered, but I assure you what occurs in this chapter will turn you into as firm a believer as myself. It is the most wondrous discovery ever made by a man, and I say that with no ego.


    We landed on Jurati, the junk touching down on a landing field near a city on an island in a small archipelago in the middle of a great ocean. ¡°This is where the best wood is,¡± the Captain said. ¡°They make kitarras out of it.¡± I could not have cared less about his stupid wood. I wanted to go out there and walk around. I needed to breath the air, drink the water, roll around on the ground. I needed to see everything and talk to everyone. I was about to be the first white man to ever set foot on the Starting Line! I was giddy with anticipation.


    The ramp lowered and I followed the Captain outside. The rest of the crew remained aboard the ship. They were Mangalians, and they had been to Jurati a dozen times. They did not care. At the foot of the ramp were an assemblage of natives. Men in strange, billowy, flower-printed shirts played tiny kitarras, while women in grass skirts danced lewdly to the music. They all wore garlands of flowers around their necks, and, as I stood there in disbelief, one of the women danced up to me and placed a similar garland around my own neck. She said a word in a singsong tongue, kissed me on the cheek, and danced away.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The Captain was similarly decorated.


    The natives stopped playing and one stepped forward. The Captain spoke to the head native in the singsong language. After some discussion, the Captain turned to me. ¡°We will go buy the wood in the city,¡± he said.


    That was when I saw it. No, truth be told I heard it first. A sound every Fontishman, and truly every man and woman in the galaxy knows by heart.


    ¡°Blaf blaf blaf!¡±


    Running around the edge of the landing field was a Dugan. A Dugan! I swear on Our Lady, May Her Wisdom Guide us Always. A Dugan!


    I was flabbergasted. I started to babble. The Captain and the natives laughed at me. One of the natives called to the Dugan and it came gamboling up to him, its tongue hanging out. The native knelt down and rubbed the Dugan¡¯s head. The Dugan wagged its tail.


    I fell to my knees. The Dugan wagged its tail, just like in the stories. It ran on four legs, just like in the stories. It was covered in fur and had floppy ears, just like in the stories. It went ¡°Blaf blaf blaf!¡± just like in the stories.


    I am not ashamed to say I wept. I was a child again, with my mother telling me bedtime stories about the Dugan. The Dugan who protected scared little children in the dark. The Dugan who slept at a woman¡¯s feet to keep her warm. The Dugan who was a man¡¯s best friend. Stories for children. Too good to be true.


    And as I sat there weeping, the Dugan wagged its tail and went ¡°Blaf blaf blaf!¡± and came and licked my tears away. And I laughed like a child laughs, and I petted the Dugan¡¯s head, and I rolled and played with the Dugan while the Captain and the natives stood around me and laughed. And I did not care.