Itineris

[Vogel]

Haze.

This was not the effect of Jump Drives, as he very well knew.

Orange haze.

This was a familiar sight however.

As was the creature.

Pulsating. Ribbed.

His Minuteman paled in comparison to the size of the beast that had destroyed his home. It sat a small distance displaced, pointed in a parallel direction with his fighter, directly at the orange haze.

It was some kind of mockery. He was in formation with it.

The situation was so unnerving that for once his instincts told him nothing. Just as before, when he had been there. When they had all been there.

Attack? Attack it how? With what?

Run? How would one run from something that seemed to exist at will?

Wait? Wait for what?

It had brought him here. The impression was obvious. It was impossible to ignore.

It sat glowing, the monstrous entity, giving off an ephemeral blue glow. Strange lights like red lightening darted about in the jelly-like interior. It seemed to be stationary.

Waiting.

Waiting for what?

Doyle was frozen in his seat. His mind was unable to comprehend who, better yet what, or most importantly why this was happening. Therefore it almost seemed to shut off in an attempt to evade the questions.

Waiting.

Waiting in front of the haze.

That haze, which must have been

**Home**

A chill shot up his spine.

That was a clearly defined thought. A word, or a feeling, some kind of intuitive understanding. It came from outside his mind, slipping between the mental barriers with ease and gracefully wrapping itself around his conscious mind.

**Home.**

The orange din reflected off his eyes.

**Light Gone**

Billions of people. Billions of people who had been born, lived, and died, many of whom were fighting each other for no discernible reason other than to not be killed first.

Billions gone.

Light Gone

The Sun was gone.

**New**

Doyle felt as if his head was made of air. Concentration was at a premium as these alien ideas filtered through and were slowly deciphered by his primitive mind.

**Care**

He cared about those people. People cared about each other.

Had they cared about each other?

Had they cared with their guns trained on their fellow men? What had stopped them from pulling the triggers?

Other than

**Care.**

It was not that the thoughts came quickly, but that they were so dense, for lack of better terms. Their impact was much more complicated. It was as if the being sending them was making a distinct effort to simplify them, yet could not seem to find the best way.

**Light Gone.**

Doyle looked over at the creature, sitting perfectly still in front of the haze, and then looked back at the atomized remains of his birthright. Everything seemed so unreal.

But

He could hardly move his jaw.

Why?

Why what? the old man replied hoarsely.

The Lieutenant was suddenly aware of the fact that his feet were planted on the ground and he was standing erect. His head still swimming, the transition seemed to come rather easily.

He looked over at the old man.

Bedridden. Old. Hair long and gray. Face drawn, tired. Hands weak, frail.

They were in a dimly lit room with but a single door and window.

The old man groaned ever so quietly as he turned his head to see his visitor.

Doyle knew this man.

The mans eyes betrayed the same.

Its Its! the old mans voice rapidly took on a great sense of surprise and anxiety as his shaking finger rose to point at the intruder.

But the light went from his eyes.

He fell back to the bed.

Gone.

Doyle found his back against the nearest wall. The room was suddenly very small, claustrophobic, stuffy, inescapable, fated.

His heart was racing, yet he was at rest, such was the mental torment he was experiencing.

Where was he? Where was this?

He had to know.

It was his destiny.

He spun around to the window, the only window.

And there, in the evenings fading light, sat a small city. New construction along its fringes was evident. Small airborne vehicles were scurrying about, flying up and in circles, around a flat spire-like object that towered above the rest of the settlement.

It stood up the same way it had launched so long ago.

The ASF-1.

The Liberty.

**New.**






The readout before him indicated that the jump had been successful, and that fuel reserves were down to twenty-five percent.

He could feel the cold sweat worming its way under his flight suit.

It was trying to tell him something.

It was trying to tell him everything.

That beast, that monster, that atrocity, that creature, that being, that

Jump successful.

James Doyles eyes snapped down to his instruments.

The EWS was quiet. The sensors showed scattered unknown contacts in the distance. The missile warning was gone.

He looked over his shoulder.

Earths successor was small enough to blend in with the stars.

His journey was not yet over. This he knew very well.

It had merely begun.