Chapter 118: The Auditorium of Remembrance
“Every lancer dreams of having their likeness erected on this hallowed ground, but so few prove themselves worthy of such an honor.”
—High Lancer Esteba Pondool
Zaina stared at a plaque in front of a half-built statue. It read, “The Auditorium of Remembrance welcomes the likeness of High Lancer Girxorgian of Clan Ra-Folgoth, a lancer whose compassion, loyalty, and bravery knew no bounds.”
All around were massive statues of lancers from ages past, each with a plaque to commemorate their achievements. Instead of all that lancer history, Zaina was focused on the twenty-foot tall feet and legs in front of her, those of her fallen friend. Maybe she hoped being near Gir’s statue would somehow help her know what to do next—where to go.
She glanced at Gizmo, still in low-power mode, and sighed. What could possibly be so important that he tried to hide it from the Order? It has to be something big. Do I even want to know?
Her eyes returned to Gir’s lower half set in stone. “Gir… was this—did you want me to find this? Was this a message, or a mistake?”
She lowered her head. If it’s a message from Gir, and he wanted me to find it—I think I owe it to him to do so. But where do I start? I don’t even know where to go for glyph repair besides where I’ve already gone.
“It’s gonna be tricky,” she said to Gizmo in a soothing voice, “but I’m going to figure out what’s wrong with you and get you fixed.”
Maybe the manufacturer could help—she tried to remember the term Valsi had used; was it VRZ? VZR? ZVR? So much of what she’d said sounded like techno-babble, making it difficult to recall specific things.
There’s gotta be a way to find that out, right?
A voice, one she hadn’t heard before, interrupted her mental option-weighing. “Hey!”
She jumped, not expecting anyone to talk to her—unless they had foul motives. She turned toward the sound’s origin. Instead of a threat from some ne’er-do-well lancer, there approaching between the statues was the floating hover-bed of a scholar.
What is this? Am I in trouble?
The hover-bed came close enough that Zaina was able to see the occupant—it was a thin Korelbaran male, a humanoid with long, pointy ears, spindly blonde hair, pale gray skin, and eyes on either side of his head. His large hands were folded over his stomach. He looked young for a scholar, with barely a tinge of white in his hair or wrinkles on his skin.
“You wouldn’t happen to be Zaina Quin, would you?”
His voice was friendly, which put Zaina more on guard. “Uh—yes. Why?”
A smile spread across the Korelbaran’s thin lips. “I—wow. I—okay. I’m sorry, I’m—I’m a bit—I mean—”
Zaina raised her hands and said, “Are you okay? Am I in trouble or something?”
“Okay? Yes. And trouble? Goodness, no. I’m sorry—I’m a bit excited. I’ve been hoping and waiting to meet you, Zaina. Can I call you Zaina?”
“Sure,” she said, starting to worry. Where was this going? “What should I call you?”
“Ah! I haven’t even introduced myself. Sorry about that. My name is Baeus of Balevan, but my friends call me Baeus. I was hoping you would, too.”
“What, call you Baeus?”
“No, be my friend!”
Zaina’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to be my friend?”
“Well—to be honest, I’m fascinated by history. All history, mind you, but I feel that not enough focus is placed on marked history. It’s under-studied, and I want to do my part to correct that. I’m only a scribe right now, but I’m working on an original text compiling information all about the marked, their history, and how they fit into the wider history of the Nova Rim!”
Zaina blinked a few times. Did he really want to be her friend, or did he see her as a means to an end—some object to be studied? “And you want me to help you?”
He shrugged. “I’ll take whatever help you want, but it’s you I’m more interested in. As a scholar, well, to be honest, I rarely get to meet one of the marked. I’ve only met three in my time serving the Order, and I befriended them all—except for the other half-marked currently here, but she wouldn’t give me the time of day.”
Zaina chuckled. “Yeah, that sounds about right for her. So wait—you’ve never met a marked that wasn’t half-lancer?”
“Regrettably, no,” he said. “My parents took me to Dantohar when I was very young—unfortunately, the planet I called home isn’t terribly keen on the marked. And well, we scholars don’t exactly get around seeing the galaxy as much as we’d like, especially not scribes like myself.”
It felt weird knowing he only wanted to be friends with her because of the mark. Still, it wasn’t like she had any friends on Kaado. Part of her wanted to shun him, to go back to worrying about Gizmo—maybe she was spending too much time with Xyrthe.
“Well,” she said, “I guess I could use a friend.”
“I am glad to hear it. Do you come to the Auditorium often?”
Zaina shook her head. “I came to see how Gir’s statue is coming along.”
Baeus rotated his hover-bed to face the half-statue. “Ah, yes. It is progressing nicely. Did you know him?”
“Yeah,” she said. “He was a great lancer. Saved my life back home.”
“Indeed he was. A kind soul, too. Some lancers—well, some lancers don’t share his sense of empathy. I’m sure you know that all too well.”
She nodded, her guard lowering little by little. “Unfortunately, I do.”
A silence came over them, somber but not awkward. Then, Zaina said, “So, you like history, right?”
“Yes, very much so!”
“So do you know who all of these people are?” she asked, gesturing to the statues towering all around them.
“Of course! All the greats are here. That right there is Jerana Qorfysian—generally considered to be one of the first true lancers ever; she fought Laogoth the Great on this very world over two million years ago. Next to her is Kuei Gami, “The First High Lancer,” they call him, and his apprentice Pria Song, who gave her life to defeat the Church of Gor. And that’s Awean J’Miga, who struck a blow to the Marked Emperor Savon that stuck with him for the rest of his life. You might be especially interested in these two—this is Dalzhar Velian, the first half-marked to be inducted into the Order 5,000 years ago; his entry into the Order led to the Lancer Civil War, the grudges of which eventually claimed his life. And that is Ela Artfor, a wonderful woman who sacrificed her life to keep the Eldritch at bay. There’s—there’s a lot more, but people usually get annoyed when I carry on like this.”
“It’s okay,” Zaina said. “I don’t mind. It might not be a bad idea to get my mind off things for a little bit.”
“Oh?” he replied. “Perhaps you have a need to speak your mind.”
Zaina looked down at Gizmo, still asleep on her lap, and sighed. “It’s—it’s my glyph. Gizmo.”
“You named your glyph?”
“No, Gir did. And when I came here I got his glyph—I made sure of it. I thought it was the least I could do to take care of his little friend. Gir did save my life, after all. But I couldn’t save Gir, and now—now I can’t even save Gizmo.”
The hover-bed tilted, allowing Baeus to view the glyph. “What’s wrong with him?”
Her mind tilted deciding how much to reveal. If Gir really had left something for her eyes only, she couldn’t go on bringing in strangers she’d known for all of five minutes. On the other hand, Gir trusted her judgment. If she came to trust Baeus, Gir would have respected her feelings—right?
But do I feel like I can trust him?
She scanned his face for oddities, for signs of another motive, but there were none. His demeanor was consistently pleasant. The only danger he posed was leading her into a trap, which didn’t seem far-fetched—especially since he’d want to be friendly in that scenario. Still, he seemed genuine. She decided to tell half of the truth.
“I think it’s a memory problem,” she said. “So far everyone’s told me I should either get a new glyph or get Gizmo fully wiped. Completely delete everything about him, every part of him that might be connected to Gir. I—I don’t want to do that.”
“I see,” Baeus replied. “Could you power him on?”
She shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
With the click of a button Gizmo chirped to life, buzzing about happily in the air. For a moment Zaina hoped the little guy would be himself again, but her heart was dashed when he spoke. “Reset complete! Hello, Master. May I please have your preferred name?”
“Zaina,” she replied.
“Hello, Master Zaina. How may I be of assistance?”
After a moment of silence Baeus jumped in, “May I?”
She shrugged, not having anything to ask of Gizmo at the moment. “Sure, knock yourself out.”
Baeus cleared his throat. “Hello, Gizmo?”
Gizmo turned to face Baeus. “Oh, hello, friend! May I have your preferred name?”
“Call me Baeus, if you like.”
“Yes, Master Baeus. How may I be of assistance?”
He replied, “Could you please access your preference database for personalization?”
“Zzz—certainly! I can do thaaa—zzz—reset complete! Hello, Master. May I have your preferred name?”
“Zaina,” she replied.
Baeus rotated toward Zaina as Gizmo chirped on. “He does this often?”
“Pretty much anytime I ask him to do anything.”
“I see,” Baeus said. “He’s a most unusual little fellow, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, even when he was working right,” Zaina replied. “He wasn’t the best at his job, sure, but he was helpful. He always wanted to help, always called everyone a friend. I don’t know, I miss him, you know?”
“And High Lancer Gir too, I’m sure,” Baeus said.
“Yeah,” she said, hanging her head. “Yeah, I miss him, too. He would know what to do.”
Gizmo chirped in, “Zzz—reset complete. Hello, Master Giramodo. How may I assist you?”