As I stood in the VIP hall puzzling over Unity’s instructions, one thing became clear; if I was going to get my answers, I would have to play their game. I approached Medina’s door, pressed the buzzer, and waited.

  “Rook, what a pleasant surprise!” announced her voice over the intercom before the door opened, revealing the priestess in her ebony habit, her eyes soft with compassion and her hands clasped excitedly. “I’ll make some tea!”

  “That isn’t necessary, sister,” I protested, but she was already preparing her kettle.

  “Nonsense, sweet one! Tea is no trouble. Please, come sit, let me hear your worries!” she insisted.

  My eyes explored our dark surroundings as I obeyed. Out of all the places I’d visited on the Clover, her cabin made me feel the most like I was really in space. Even Cufuthu’s room with its lack of gravity felt less cold, somehow.

  “So!” Medina began, sitting gracefully across from me and neatly folding her hands. “How may I help my favorite helper today?”

  “I was actually hoping you could tell me the opposite,” I explained. “How can I help you?”

  “While that’s a very kind offer, you’ve already done so much for me in your previous visits. My cabin has never felt quite so cozy and clean, thanks to you.” She tilted her head curiously. “Where is this coming from? You normally come to me with spiritual questions, not offers.”

  I studied the dark plush carpet carefully, as I pieced together my lie. “Truth be told, sister, I’m here about something more practical. I know you prefer more philosophical questions, but... I have a different kind of question today.”

  Medina nodded encouragingly. “Go on and ask it, my child.”

  I cleared my throat uncomfortably. “What can I do for you, my Priestess?” I asked again.

  Medina chuckled lightly. “Good to see you taking my advice to heart.”

  “Nothing is free,” I recalled.

  “Nothing,” she agreed. “Only nothing is free. But to ask a question is to give something, until one gives an answer in turn. Go ahead, child.”

  I hesitated, the words on the tip of my tongue. What do you want from me, priestess? Why are you so kind to me? What are you really planning? She was right; asking any one of those questions would give her an advantage, allow her the chance to lie. I had to acquire the information I needed more cleverly.

  “Are you alright?” Medina asked, lightly touching my knee.

  I flashed an uneasy smile. “Yes, sorry, I was just trying to figure out how to ask without using too much engineer speak. You heard the announcement about the fusion thruster earlier, right?”

  She nodded, eyes narrowed curiously.

  “That was me,” I admitted. “I found a crack in the plasma intake manifold that was causing shorts and electromagnetic interference. The problem is that there are no mechanical stresses on the manifold that could cause it to break like it did.”

  “There was a small patch of material missing?” Medina clarified.

  I nodded solemnly. “Eric thinks it got lost in the void, like me.”

  “And your question is?” Medina asked.

  “How,” I replied confidently.

  The priestess sat back in her chair as she pondered my request. “The void is something we don’t fully understand, dear one. Sometimes it takes, sometimes it gives. My guess is that it was a trade, as it often is; you for the power manifold.”

  That couldn’t be correct, given where I really came from, but saying so couldn’t possibly help my situation. “Do you really believe that the void thinks?” I asked instead.

  She sighed, then reached for her teapot, and silently poured us each a cup. “There are countless theories as to why the void does what it does, but they never rise above unsubstantiated opinions. How, however, is a bit more scientific.”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  I picked up my cup and took a long sip of the grassy liquid. “What’s your opinion on why?” I asked.

  “I believe that within the void, there are angels. I believe they can be kind, or spiteful, depending on how they’re treated.”

  “Treated?” I echoed.

  “We use their home dimension for faster than light travel without their permission. That must make them angry,” she reasoned. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that incidences of lost property and personnel decreased once we began making offerings to the void dwellers.”

  “Offerings?” I echoed.

  “What is a void star, if not a one way gate?” Medina asked. “Yes, by the time anything ends up on the other side it will have been stretched into a thin stream of matter, but when your realm is nothing, anything is an offering.”

  I was curious what sorts of things the Crusaders would use as offerings, but we were straying further from the point. “You mentioned you know more about how the void works?” I prompted.

  Medina gestured vaguely to our surroundings. “The void is here, all around us, yet just below us. It caresses our universe with its entire majesty at any given point in space and time. If you reach into it from here and now, theoretically you could reach back out from any there and then you can dream of. The problem is that once inside, our primitive technologies and limited bodies cease to function. We need a way out to be nanometres from where we enter, lest we become lost within its infinity.”

  I took another drink of tea. “That’s what the gates are for, right?”

  She nodded serenely. “The gates provide a way in, and a way out. If they’re calibrated properly, their distance from each other within the void is tiny, while their distance in our universe can be hundreds of lightyears.”

  When I first stowed away in the cargo hold, I felt as if I spent a lifetime in the void. Had it really only been a fraction of a tik? The information was beginning to hurt my head, and I was no closer to figuring out what she wanted from me.

  “What’s wrong, child?” She asked. “You seem... ill at ease.”

  I shook my head, and set down my empty cup. “I think that answers my questions satisfactorily,” I lied.

  “Leaving so soon? Would you mind doing me a favor on your way out?” she asked.

  “Of course, sister,” I agreed without thinking.

  Medina stood, and opened the top drawer of her desk, retrieving a data stick. “Please bring this to Zimm, tell them that I approve of the project.”

  I accepted the stick, and tucked it away in my pocket. “Thank you for sharing your knowledge,” I said. Unhelpful as it may have been to my task, I did feel smarter. Not that that was good for anything, apparently.

  As I showed myself to the door, I replayed her words in my head. Why did she have to be so cryptic about everything? Only nothing is free? To ask is to give? Distracted as I was, I didn’t notice Apollyon standing against the opposite wall until it spoke.

  “Hello, mutant,” its voice still made the fur on the back of my neck bristle.

  “Hello, Apollyon,” I said flatly, trying not to betray how much it startled me. “Looking for me?”

  “No. I receive alerts when my priestess receives any visitor.” The paladin gestured to Medina’s door. “My function is to keep her safe. I admit that you are less of a danger than I initially evaluated.”

  “Well, I’ll accept your generous apology then,” I said sarcastically.

  “A paladin does not apologize for doing its duty.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, figured as much.”

  “What did you need my priestess for?” Apollyon asked suspiciously. “She keeps office hours.”

  “I was in the area,” I replied defensively. “Besides, it’s not really any of your business what kind of spiritual advice I get. You’re already enlightened anyway, right?”

  The tin can folded its thick metal arms. “There is no such thing as enlightenment, only transcendence. Paladins do not transcend. Our armor is our life, and it is our death.”

  Their words triggered a memory. “You were out walking around as the Clover passed through the gates. That must mean you’re ordained, right? That’s like being enlightened.”

  A strangely human sigh emanated from within the armor before its distorted voice replied. “No. The holy armor is void shielded. I will never experience its great peace.”

  “Wait, so, you joined a religious order that believes in transcendence, then let them stuff you into a metal box, never to experience it yourself?” I raised an eyebrow. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

  They remained dangerously silent as they stared me down. The subtle twitching of their fingers told me to run, but I held my ground until they spoke again. “I am the armor. I am not trapped within it.”

  “Whatever you say,” I sighed. “I’ve gotta go. See you around.”

  “Yes,” they agreed. “I will be seeing you.”

  I suppressed a shudder as I made my way back to the lifts. I could have sworn they had seemed almost human for a moment.