Ardent

Chapter 8.1

The previous evening's images played over and over in his mind, and his brow furrowed.

Tyr closed his eyes.

He pressed his fingertips against his temples and leaned his elbows against the surface of the smooth black table he sat at, exhaling slowly. The sound of the air coming from his lungs was loud in the deafening silence of the room he had been sitting in for hours.

They laid the Chair to rest the night before they left for the Alnilam system. The picture of his Master's body lying peacefully in The Inestimable Room was forever imprinted into his memory, as was the desolate feeling of loss he felt as they lowered their revered leader into the endless blackness until his body vanished from sight, returning him to the infrastructure. Tyr clenched his jaw, trying to push the image from his mind, if only for a moment.

Soon after the burial of the Chair, Tyr boarded a small spacecraft at Damien's behest, and with much reluctance, he bid farewell to his most treasured friend.

"I'll take care of things, my boy. We'll be fine here," the old man reassured him, a confident smile on his face. Yet, Tyr saw something in the depths of Damien's eyes, as if the attendant didn't quite believe his own words.

"You'd better, my friend," Tyr had responded, embracing the old man with an iron grip. "You still have a lot of catching up to do if you plan on living as long as I have."

Damien had given him a wink and ushered Tyr to the awaiting ship. The vessel left in the middle of the night, unseen in the darkness and haze of the still smoking city.

Tyr stood, walking to the small window on the one side of his room aboard the small spacecraft. He was dressed in black slacks crafted from a pliable and flexible material, heavy black boots that extended nearly to his knees, and a long red jacket trimmed with gold. Although he missed the comfort of his robes, he had opted for something with more protection and practicality.

The rendezvous point had remained quiet so far, and Tyr hoped it would stay that way. The moon rotated slowly in the shadow of the large unnamed sapphire planet it orbited, tiny compared to the churning, storm-filled surface of the blue beast. Its unnaturally smooth appearance reminded him of frosted glass; there was not a single mark pocking its surface. It was unremarkable but astounding in the beauty of its simplicity.

The star Alnilam was much like Mintaka, yet Tyr couldn't shake the displacement that coursed through him. It had been ages since he had left Ohatior. Anger swirled deep in his violet eyes, much like a storm on the precipice of great destruction. The last place he wanted to be was orbiting this remote moon. His duty was in Alendor, and it pained him greatly that he was absent.

Yet, here he was, and there was nothing he could do about it.

The door slid open with a hiss.

"Chair, Sir," the attendant spoke softly as he entered, clasping his hands together.

It would be a long while before he got used to that title.

"Yes, what is it?" Tyr raised a brow.

"The Ardent has arrived. The commanding officer is waiting for you at the dock."

"Right, I'll be along presently. Thank you." He nodded and gestured towards the door. The attendant lowered his head in respect, turned, and walked through the door.

***

"I've seen nothing like it!" Lillian exclaimed, her green eyes moving over the strange surface of the moon as the ship coasted towards it. She couldn't pull her gaze away from it. "It's so funny looking, almost surreal. How come it has no craters?" She zipped up her jacket, shrugging off a chill that tingled along her arms.