Chapter 2: The Leaving
“All interns bound to Earth must have all paperwork turned in to the Registry by second sundown,” announced a metallic voice accompanied by crackly static as the message concluded with a click over a loudspeaker. The loudspeaker was part of the University, and as such was regarded as a premier part of the institution, worthy of respect. Aren however felt nothing but antipathy towards that jarring voice and the system that procured it.
She was on her way to the Registry at that moment, and did not appreciate the voice telling her to do something she was already planning to do. Perhaps she was just being contrary, but whenever she was told to do something, she always wanted to run off and do the complete opposite.
Somehow, she managed to grit her perfectly white teeth and march the rest of the way to the Registry office. It was an inner war that she had to win in order to achieve her ultimate objective: Getting off of Arenstat.
The Registrar looked up from his stack of papers that had been growing all day as the interns piled them on his desk, and gave a large sigh. “Another intern, I see,” he huffed tiredly before returning his gaze to the papers he held in his hand.
Aren stifled a giggle. “Thankfully,” she replied. “Where do want these?” She waved her forms in the air between them.
He pointed to the largest pile on his desk, it teetered slightly to the left and Aren was afraid any more paper would make it collapse upon his head, but she obeyed. As she placed the papers delicately upon the stack, the rather tired specimen of an Angel glanced up at her face and gave a muffled gasp. His next reaction was to fumble blindly for his glasses which he then shoved on his face in what Aren thought was quite a dangerous speed to be forcing an object toward one’s eyes.
Aren in turn was startled momentarily until the Registrar squeaked, “P-princess Arenstatia!”
It was Aren’s turn to sigh; she should have figured someone would recognize her. The younger Angels were too young to know her face since her family had been blacklisted so long ago, which really cut back on the amount of images of her in the public eye, but the older Angels, as the Registrar had just then proven himself to be, knew her face as well as the Queen’s.
The older man looked completely dumbfounded at seeing her in his office.
“Shhh!” she admonished. “Do you want to call unnecessary attention to yourself?”
He shook his steel blue head emphatically, and swallowed with a gulp. “What—I mean, how—no—why are you here?” he finally managed to ask in as whispered a tone as he could manage. His eyes were wide and bright blue behind his glasses and he subconsciously reached up to straighten them on his perfect nose.
Aren rolled her eyes dramatically. “I thought it was obvious that I was going to Earth.” Really, sometimes she wondered how the Angels could claim that they were the most advanced race if the most obvious things were not plain to them.
“No-no-no-no,” the Registrar replied. “You cannot go to Earth. You are royalty. Earth is like an exile! You must—“
“Do what? Stay here and have everyone pretend I’m not some huge reminder of the taboo topic of my family? Yeah, that’s been working out great for me thus far.” She shook her head dismissively. “I’m going to Earth. That’s final.”
The Registrar gave her an odd look. “That is not what everyone thinks. I’m just concerned for you. You have no idea what it’s like down there. Those humans…they are not like us, Milady. It’s a sad place, full of suffering, and almost every Angel that goes, comes back changed, or doesn’t come back at all!”
“Is it any sadder than living where you are unwelcome?” Aren asked. Her voice had dropped dangerously low, little more than a whisper, but he had no trouble discerning what she said.
The Registrar had no ready reply. He either knew or could guess at what she faced each day among the others of her rank. He gave one last sigh, and picked up her forms, giving them a once-over before stamping them with a resigned finality. The muffled thump of the stamp resounded in Aren’s mind. It was the last bar lifted from her shoulders. She was practically free.
“You may pick up your pass tomorrow. I assume you have a transport lined up?” He asked, all business now that he had given up on swaying her from her path.
Aren nodded. “I’m chartered to ride with Captain Brisneron on The Herald.”
The Registrar nodded as well. The Captain was well-respected for his flying ability and safety record. “I feel I must wish you good luck, but I also feel that it would only come out half-hearted. So, I wish you safe-travel instead.”
He extended his ink-stained hand out in a gesture of farewell, and Aren met it with her own white hand. Their hands met, palm to palm, and then broke away again.
Aren smiled at his concerned features and cocked her green head to the side as if to see him more clearly. “Thanks, but I don’t need it. The worst is already behind me.”
With that, Aren turned on her heels and walked out of his office, leaving him with the distinct impression that he would never see or hear from her again. He looked down at his hand and noticed that the ink stains were gone, and then he sighed at what he allowed to happen.
The sound of paper sliding over paper and the muffled thump of a stamp accompanied Aren as she glided purposefully down the hallway. She never once contemplated looking back.
The next morning, Aren had her pass to leave the planet in hand, while the other held her overstuffed bag. Her electric green eyes were fastened on the sight of a sleek ship settled in the main bay of Hanger Three. The crew was bustling about, loading supplies, equipment, baggage, and telling the other passengers where to stow their personal gear. It was a hectic maelstrom of bodies and belongings and almost overwhelmed her with the vitality of the scene.
She took a deep breath, lifted and resettled her wings that she kept hidden under a billowy wrap before walking purposefully into the melee of flailing arms and shouted orders. A crew member with shocking orange hair narrowly missed knocking her over with the staggering amount of boxes he was holding, and Aren helped him recover in time before the contents were strewn across the hanger floor. He would have been in trouble if they had.
“Thanks!” was his strained reply as he hurried to take those boxes to their intended destination.
Aren chuckled, feeling more at ease, and continued to weave her way slowly through the mess. Every once in a while, she would stop to help if needed, and then she would return to her own business. She was looking for someone.
Actually, two someones. The first was her only friend on this trip, an old professor of hers from her small stint as a student at the University. Of course, that was before she was kicked out.
He was the one who had first told her about Earth and instilled in her the desire to see the inhabitants of that planet. She had been looking forward to seeing him again after all this time. He had never cared much for royal decrees or for politics in general, and for that she was grateful. The second, and perhaps most important to other people, was the Captain. She needed to speak to him on private business, but that could wait until they were in flight.
“Ahoy there! You girl!” Aren’s train of thought was interrupted by someone yelling and she turned to look at the person issuing the shouts.
“Are you talking to me?” she asked with a small smirk. One eyebrow raised itself above the other, making her face look almost comical, if an Angel could be accused of looking humorous.
The young man, as Aren noted as he drew closer, was quite average for an Angel. From her initial observation she assumed he was not of any rank, but was merely a lower level citizen. He had smooth dark brown hair and equally as dark amber eyes. Those eyes were now assessing Aren with a practice motion, which for some odd reason made Aren uncomfortably aware of the privileged state of her hair and the shiny nature of her shoes.
“You’re one of the interns, aren’t you?” he asked as if he already knew the answer, but was asking anyway for the benefit of fulfilling a requirement.
Aren shrugged. “Yes, and you are the person in charge of asking obvious questions, are you not?”
He snorted; the corner of his lips twitching with what Aren could only suppose was restrained laughter. She was happily surprised to find someone capable of such a thing still on Arenstat.
“That would be me. I’m the First Mate of The Herald. Captain Brisneron has asked me to greet all of the passengers and personally assure them of their safety during the trip to Earth.” The last part was spoken as if he were reciting a speech another had prepared for him, but that he wasn’t too thrilled to say.
“You certainly have a way of instilling confidence, First Mate of The Herald,” Aren replied.
He laughed. “I thought all the upper class was stuck up? You actually have a sense of humor. Odd. You can call me Nevero, although my friends call me Nev.”
Aren wrinkled her nose. “Stuck up? Not hardly. And for your information, I’m not upper class. I’m pretty much the lowest scum of Arenstat,” she replied with a small sardonic laugh to herself as she said it. He had no idea how close and yet so far from the truth he had come. “You can call me—“ She paused, unsure of how to proceed. She wasn't exactly hiding her identity per say, but all the same didn't want it widely known she was on a flight to Earth. It was part of the reason she kept her wings covered. They were very easily recognizable. Every member of the Royal family had diamond flecked feathers; it was genetic.
“Well? Don’t you have a name?” Nev asked grinningly.
“I’m Ren,” she said after some thought. “Just Ren.”
Nev smiled. “Nice to meet you, Ren. Sorry about that ‘stuck up’ bit. I have the horrible habit of speaking my mind without any thought for the consequences and I just thought that you looked the part of some noble lady. Guess I was wrong. Well, we’d best get you squared away on board. We’ll be leaving within the hour. Captain plans to use the retreating gravitational pull of the second sun to help propel us through the atmosphere.”
He grabbed her bag before she could protest and started to walk away, obviously expecting her to follow. She decided right then that she liked Nev. He was a decent sort of Angel. His view on nobility was very refreshing.
As they walked to the gleaming ship, Aren asked Nev about the intricacies of space travel and he explained the purpose behind leaving in the wake of the sun. Aren almost didn’t notice when they had arrived at her cabin until Nev announced “Well, here you go. Get your things the way you like them and then come back to the main deck--that’s the big room we came through earlier--and the Captain will give the final word before departure.”
“Okay, thanks Nev.”
Aren was already eyeing the space allotted to her for the trip and she pronounced it adequate. It was not nearly as large as what she was accustomed to on Arenstat, but it wasn’t unbearable. The cabin had a porthole that was now only showing the inside of the hanger with it's scurrying workers and passengers, but would soon show the blackness of space.
There was a bed nestled into the wall, with a closet and a writing desk on either side, also built into the wall. Everything was arranged to save space. Aren approved of neatness, and The Herald was definitely qualifying as neat.
She was just finishing putting away the last of her belongings when she heard a knock on her door.
“Come in,” she answered wondering who it could be. She was kind of hoping it was Nev come to show her the way back to the main deck. She hadn’t paid too much attention earlier.
The door slid open to reveal, not her new friend, but a familiar face all the same.
“Professor Agrist!” she cried. Whatever object she had held in her hand was tossed to her bed in her excitement.
Aren met the grinning older man halfway across the cabin and they exchanged the customary bows of greeting before ending in a hug. Agrist was chuckling softly.
“I am so glad to see you once again, my dear,” he exclaimed at last. A small tear escaped from his right eye before he wiped it aside.
Aren was touched by his emotions. She wasn’t accustomed to people feeling so strongly about her in such a way. She understood dislike and shame, but love? No, that was something she refused to believe existed, except perhaps in Agrist’s case. She felt like maybe she loved him.
“The feeling is mutual,” she replied heavily. That feeling of something stirring deep within her belly rose again and she tried to quench it. “How did you find me?” she asked to distract herself from her own mind-worries.
Agrist’s pale green eyes crinkled at the corners and he reached one hand up to ruffle his slate hair as if he was thinking. It was a habit of his that Aren had come to expect after having known him so long.
“I was told by the Captain that my intern was in cabin 2-C and being the curious person I am, decided to see just who I had been assigned. Imagine my surprise when it was you!”
Aren laughed. She had forgotten that the Professor hadn’t been made aware of the change in personnel. She had just assumed that he would be told. She had managed to persuade the original assistant to stay on Arenstat. How she had managed to do that was something no one would ever know.
“I hope you aren’t disappointed,” she remarked thoughtfully.
Agrist looked scandalized. “Disappointed! Disappointed she asks?! How could I be? You were my best student. If you hadn’t left, well…”
Aren’s face tightened into a grim smile. “It’s great to be working with you again.”
He gave her another hug and then ushered her out of the door, one hand under her arm in a way befitting their old friendship. “We must head to the main deck, my dear. I feel like this will be a grand adventure.”
Aren hoped he was right. She was actually betting on it.
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