The first problem with plane-jumping is that it's loud. It's basically calling down a bolt of lightning directly on your own head, after all. Proper hearing protection is a must, and the tuned ferric armor to go with it as well.

The second problem with plane-jumping is that it takes a lot of energy. Arkon's elders spent huge sums of our people's wealth building the anberic collection stations along the great sea-line ridge. Their black, ferric towers climb into the sky for thousands of strides along the barren red rock, draining energy from the Everstorm, and collecting it for our army's use.

The third problem with plane-jumping is that... no one's was ever really sure how it worked. Oh, of course we're all trained in it when we join the corps, and we do it quite regularly, and the commanders claim it's all figured out, but corpsgirls go missing all the time and never return. It's one of the reasons the pay is so good; every jump might be your last. And the best advice either the trainers or the seasoned veterans can provide if you get lost is "take another shot." The unspoken question always remained though: What do you do when you run out of shots?

I'd had one close call before, several months after I'd finished training. I'd burned through eight of the eleven shots I'd been given before I made it back to Arkon, and had never been more happy to see those beautiful red rocks. I was shaken up enough at the thought of being forever lost, but the reprimand for "wasting" so many shots made it even worse.

The next year of service I did much better. Seventeen runs, all under five shots. I got a Silver Branch for the lives I helped save, and promotion to second guild. Then came the day it all went wrong.

It'd been my third courier mission in Okhan, assigned to the third expeditionary force there. We'd been pushing our offense deep into the Lachics' home turf for weeks. Morale was high, as we won battle after battle, and our commander got a bit cocky, pushing our division well beyond the main line in pursuit of the enemy.

Of course, the failed battles had been a decoy, designed to do exactly what they did, and before we knew it, the damn lizards had routed our division, trapping us in a narrow alpine valley while their runners darted in and out of the forest behind our lines, picking off troops one by one. After more than a day of this, the commander finally realized they'd keep whittling us down until we were all dead, and managed to swallow his pride. He wrote a short letter to command, giving our location (and admitting his mistake) while asking for elder assistance. I was dispatched to carry it.

Now, despite over a year of service, I'd only made another four Jump-runs since my close call, and was quite nervous. But, after a sleepless night punctuated by distant screams of men dying to Lachic runners, being anywhere else sounded pretty good.

I double-checked all my gear: One dozen shots in a padded bandoleer (for Jumping, of course); tuned-ferric helmet, lest I get burned alive by the anberic energy; padded ear muffs, for hearing and weather protection; a tube full of maps, showing (as best was possible) known routes on other planes; and lastly, the duster-length leather (non-conductive) overcoat, signature uniform of the Jumper Corps. I tucked the sealed parchment into one of the coat's many courier pockets, mounted my kabal, and gave him a gentle nudge to trot into the clearing the solider's had made in the middle of camp for my departure.

The nerve-wracking part was next. I pulled a shout of it's protected leather holder, examining it. It looked so innocuous: a small glass vial, melted shut where a stopper might normally be. Within it, some fine traces of copper foil and wires could be seen. Occasionally, on a really dark night, you might just witness the tiniest blue spark somewhere inside. Strange to think that each one of these was worth nearly as much as a small cottage. Of course, that would assume you could find someone crazy enough to risk buying one.

I glanced around the clearing one last time, making sure no one else was too close, took a deep breath, tapped the kabal on his head, signaling him to close his eyes as he was trained, then threw the shot to the ground, unleashing all the energy within.

Have you ever seen lightning strike nearby? Even just normal lightning, far from the Everstorm. If you do, and if you can look closely enough, you'll see that lightning doesn't come down from the clouds as most think. Rather, the power leaps skyward from the earth itself. What you'll also see, if you pay even more attention is that right about where it leaves the ground (or tree, or whatever) it forms a bright sphere for the smallest moment in time. What our elder's discovered, and what has given us our only advantage in this long war is that that sphere is actually a gateway between worlds.

As the afterglow of the jump faded and my eyes adjusted, I took a tentative half breath through my nose. Some jumps ended on plans where the air was unbreathable. A corpsgirl finding herself there had only the air she'd brought with her in her lungs, and must immediately take another shot before suffocating. Thankfully, this one seemed breathable. That was the only good thing about it though.

Looking around after the first breath, I found myself in a dense, humid jungle. The undergrowth alone was so dense I couldn't even seen the head of my kabal once we went more than a few steps from the scorched entrance we'd made. I needed to ride around eighty thousand strides to return to Arkon and the collector array there. Doing so in this kind of jungle would take months. So, after a few minutes to catch my breath and let my gear cool, I took another shot.

This one was better. The air was a bit thin, but the vegetation was sparse timber and seemed like it could be easy going. I pulled out the maps and looked at the known planes that might match. Unfortunately, no corpgirls had ever jumped so far inside Lachia, so even if I was on a previously known plane, I was still off the map. Wasn't my first time though, so I decided to start heading south, hoping as I got closer to known territory, some landmarks would make themselves known. I waited around about half an hour to track the movement of the sun, and confirm my directions, then set off.

It appeared I'd arrived sometime in the early evening, but this plane had a bright moon, and I pushed myself to keep riding for several hours after dark before making camp. I made a small fire, and, using a spare piece of vellum, did my best to map what I'd seen of this world so far, before retiring for the night. My kabal began munching on some nearby plants, and I left him to it. The beasts were trained well and didn't stray.

During the night was where it really started to go wrong. I awoke to a horrible noise, something between a scream and a piece of metal being torn apart. Jumping to my feet, I saw the kabal facing off against some massive, clawed beast. It had leathery skin, and a jaw as long as I was, full of teeth. It screeched again, just as it pounds. The jaws clamped around the kabal's thick nick, sinking in like so many spikes, and my poor beast bellowed sickeningly, helplessly, there in the dark. The biggest weapon I had was a dagger, so I could do nothing but grab my gear and flee. It was noticed.

They warn you, early in training, that you should be still, and calm, and collected when you jump. That you should take your time, take deep breaths, remember your orientation and location, and all of that.

But they don't tell you how to do that when being chased by a kabal-sized beast with a lumbermill for a mouth, so I did something they tell you never to do: I took a shot while running.

If you stand still as the energies surround your body, the gateway forms a nice, relatively safe bubble around you due to the tuned ferric gear. Then you and the things near you are carried to another plane. If you insist on moving during this process, well, that's on you.

I tumbled out of the jump and found myself falling down the slope of a massive sand dune so white that it was nearly blinding. I went head over heels more times than I could count before coming to a stop. As I rolled over, spitting sand out my mouth, I felt a horrible pain in my right arm, and a stinging sensation on my right breast, like the aftereffects of a jump, but increasing rather than subsiding.

I ripped off my coat, ignoring the pain in my arm, and could see smoke coming from three of the shot-pouches in my bandoleer. I tore open the clasps holding them, burning my fingers in the process, and tried to extract them, but they were already searing (and shrinking) the leather so they couldn't be shaken out. Instead, I quickly removed the remaining shots from their pouches, wrapped them in my coat, and ran as far away as I could. I barely made it to the next sand ridge when the storm began, and quickly dove behind it.

A normal jump is, more or less, indistinguishable from a typical lightning strike. A solid, krak-a-KOOM of thunder as a single, strong bolt leaps upwards. When a shot is damaged though, the results are wild and unpredictable. With three shots failing in a cascade, I got nearly a full minute of light show as bolts arced uncontrollably around the dunes. When it finally ended, I went back over the ridge and found the entire small valley of sand had been turned to glass. Absolutely no sign remained of my bandoleer.

Glad to simply be alive as the shock wore off, the pain returned to my arm, finally making me focus on it. It'd been burned pretty badly in the jump, with tree-like welts running all over the skin. I tore the other, remaining sleeve off my blouse and did what I could do bandage it. Unfortunately, salves and other treatments had all been lost with the kabal and its saddle bags. If I could make it back within range of the Arkon collectors before infection set in though, there'd be medicine on the other side.

I stood up, and started marching.

The problem with sand is that it's always moving. The corps' maps had at least three different desert/dune planes they'd encountered. But the maps were pretty much useless, as dunes shifted with every change of the wind, making location nearly impossible to determine. The notes attached said they were good for general travel though, if a girl already had an established direction, as kabals are wide-footed, and make good time over sand. Lacking my mount, however, it seemed the opposite was true. After several hours, every step was starting to feel like an ordeal, as the grains of sand shifted and pulled, draining energy from every movement. The actinic sun baking the moisture out of my skin didn't help either.

Having seen no change in scenery for what felt like hours, I made a decision. I had to jump again. Surely my luck would be better this time. The chances were good, after all, most jumps went to rocky, mostly barren planes not too different from Arkon itself. Jungles and dunes were the exception, not the rule. So, carefully holding my injured arm against my coat and the now-loose vials of energy inside, I threw another shot down at my feet.

It was like being hit in the chest by a bull. All the air left me. I tried to breathe in. Oh no, oh no, oh no! Panic! My chest moved, but no air flowed. My eyes would't open, like they were glued shut. My training kicked in and I reached blindly for the bandoleer, fumbling for it, my fear-addled braining wondering why I can't feel it before I remembered. Forcing myself to try and calm down, I grabbed and pawed at the courier pocket of my coat, trying to get at a shot. My fingers were numb for some reason, and I could barely feel more than vague shapes. I finally grabbed one, threw it down, and was never more glad to be gasping again in air.

I could breathe again. After a moment, I could open my eyes again, though they hurt, as did the rest of my skin. The burns on my arm felt like they'd been burned all over again, and the rest of my skin didn't feel much better. I realized after a moment, there was frost all over my coat and it wasn't heat, but extreme cold I'd been feeling on whatever plane I'd found myself.

After a few more moments of rest, I finally stood and looked around. What I saw took my breath away for a second time. It was like no place I'd even heard of, despite studying all the corps maps and accounts of other planes. While the known planes were myriad, and covered nearly every type of climate and geography, they'd always had one thing in common: they were uninhabited. Now, I found myself standing inside a massive castle room. At first, I imagined it must be atop some high cliff, as the view out the window left the ground far below. Then, I realized that in the distance were buildings (for they could be nothing else) which stood as high as mountains, yet shining like polished metal despite their shear vertical faces. I was likely in one as well.

Taken as I was by the view, I had failed to notice I was not alone. Movement from a darker corner of the room caught my eye, and I turned to find myself facing some strange creature. It was a bird of sorts, taller than myself, with wings more liked plumed arms than anything that would fly. Its feathers were light gray, fading to black in a sort of zig-zag pattern. The face was really odd though. No beak, yet... when it opened it's mouth, teeth, sharp and menacing.

Backing up, I found myself trapped. There seemed to be a single door to this room, and it was near the creature. I grasped for another shot, and my heart caught in my throat when I realized there was only one left in the pocket. I must've dropped the others in my blind fumble for that last jump. I pulled it out anyway, raising it and preparing to jump when the creature raised an arm and said simply, "Please, wait!"

That it knew my language was shocking enough to make me hesitate. But I think the way it said "please" was what actually let me lower my arm.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"My name is Kedi," she said.

"What are you?"

"I'm a researcher here, and I mean you no harm."

"That's not what I meant."

Feathers on the top of her head raised, and she let out a brief puff of air I think I took as a laugh. "I know. But you appear to be badly injured, and there will be plenty of time for questions later, if you wish."

I instinctively clutched at my burned arm when she mentioned injuries, and now, breathing normally, realized just how much pain I was in.

"Please, let me help," Kedi said, extracting something from a previously hidden cabinet in the wall. She approached me slowly, holding out a round metal tube. "This will ease the pain."

I was suspicious, yet what choice did I have? I wasn't just off the maps, I was out of options. One more jump here, in a totally unknown plane, and I could end up anywhere, forever lost on some uninhabited world, running from monsters or dying of thirst.

I nodded to her.

"Hold out your arm, please."

I did, and despite the vicious-looking nature of her taloned "hands" she dexterously and gingerly removed my make-shift bandages, before pressing an end of the tube. The hissing noise it made caused me to flinch, but Kedi treated it as normal, and I quickly saw a mist of some type of salve being applied to my burns. Within seconds the pain lessened, and was replaced with a cool, slightly numb feeling.

"It will take some days for that to heal, but this will help you in the meantime." She handed me the tube. "As for the rest," she continued, looking me up and down. "I think only water, food, and rest will be required."

With the searing pain now gone, the mention of water brought thirst to the forefront, but Kedi was ahead of that need as well, retrieving and filling a glass goblet of some kind from another hidden wall panel.

I drank greedily, and after she'd brought me a third glassful, Kedi showed me how to refill the water myself. Thirst finally slaked, my mind allowed itself to wonder a bit more at my surroundings. The water had simply flowed when I placed my goblet into a small alcove. As soon as I removed it, the water stopped.

I turned to Kedi, "What form of magic is this?"

Again, her headfeathers raised slightly. "Not magic, machinery."

I looked again at the magic fountain, but could see no hint of mechanism, gears, or similar. "If it's a machine, it's far beyond any I've encountered."

"Of that, I'm certain."

I frowned at her.

"Sorry," she said. "That was rude of me. I only meant to say, I expect most things here may come as quite a surprise to you."

I nodded. It was true enough, even if I didn't want to admit it.

"Now, may I ask your name?"

"Kira, of the Third Guild Jumper Corps."

"Pleased to meet you, Kira." She awkwardly held out a clawed hand, like she'd seen a handshake before, but never done one. Despite the alien nature of her appearance, I saw no reason to refuse, and shook her hand gently.

"Now," Kedi motioned to a pair of chairs. "I imagine you have questions?"

We spent the next several hours talking. Kedi had some food brought in for me, and I ate in a rather un-lady-like fashion as we continued our conversation. During our talks, I learned a lot about Kedi and her people. They called themselves "The People" but in their own language it was a word that sounded something like "Okakdo." It was clear from just what I'd seen already that their world was far in advance of my own, and further questions only reinforced that impression. The Okakdo had explored nearly their entire world, pole to pole, mapping things down to individual trees in most places. They had single cities larger than the entire Arkon empire, and dozens of them besides. Their medicine may as well have been magic for all my own understanding of it, and as for their architecture... Even Arkon's grandest castles would pale in comparison.

More impressive still, was the Okakdo knew how jumping worked. Well, they knew a lot more than we ever did. Kedi explained that what we had called the Everstorm was an "exotic matter construct from a precursor civilization billions of years old." Or rather, at least that what was at the center of it. The strange energies around it caused more or less a regular-but-permanent weather condition as well. The energies we crudely captured for jumping contained just enough marker particles ("think of them as tiny, invisible tags") to activate the ancient machine and it would then jump them. She speculated that the ancients had a way to control their destination exactly, but that it was likely much more complicated than simply the "jump" order we were able to give it.

"But then," I asked Kedi. "How come we could always get home if, in whatever plane we were on, we were close enough to the physical location of the collector array when we jumped?"

"Homing beacon," she said. "A safety feature that returns you to wherever you collected the activation markers."

I learned more about the Okakdo world over the next few days. Kedi left me in the room I'd arrived in, showing me that food and drink, as well as bathing and other facilities, could be found within the hidden machinery of the walls. I had wanted to leave, to see more of her world, but Kedi had insisted that I heal and rest first, but promised me a tour in due time.

As I laid there on that strange, perfectly shaped bed for the third night, concern for my mission finally became overwhelming. There was a division of our brave men being killed by those bastard lizards every night until I summoned help, and here I was, recovering in luxury even the wealthiest of kings could not imagine. The first night had been absolutely needed, as I could barely walk. The second let me get my strength back up so I could make better time. This third one though...

When Kedi arrived the next morning, I told her I couldn't stay any longer.

"I have to return," I said. "There are lives depending on me."

Kedi hung her head, an expression of sadness both our people shared it seemed.

"Please, Kedi, can you help me find whatever location here corresponds with the Arkon collector?"

"Very well," she said. "I'll take you there."

I dressed in some loose-fitting clothes Kedi had brought to replace my burned and torn ones. Feathered as they were, the Okakdo didn't seem to wear anything more than ornamental themselves, so I appreciated that she must've had these made just for me.

We left the room, and I quietly followed Kedi through a maze of hallways and strange rooms that moved up and down through the tower we were in. When the doors opened (of their own accord) upon the foyer, I saw for the first time other Okakdo. As Kedi lead me outside, I overheard bits of their language, which sounded almost entirely alien to my ears.

"Kedi," I asked, as we stepped into the bright sun at the base of the tower. "How do you know my language so well?"

Headfeathers and head itself drooping again, she said, "That is one of the things we need to discuss."

We walked slowly through the city. The entire place was artificial, even the ponds and grass and trees were trimmed and planned. It was beautiful, in its own way, but so alien, so clean compared to Arkon's dirt roads and haphazard foliage.

"Kedi," I prompted again, after trying to let her begin in her own time. "How do you know my language? Are more of my people here somewhere?"

"No, no... you're the only one here, Kira," she said.

Something felt wrong about how she said it. "What aren't you telling me?"

Kedi avoided the question by instructing me through the bizarre process for boarding an underground conveyance. "No, you have to step through while the light is green, or it won't turn."

Solving that minor hiccup, we boarded, but I found the noise nearly unbearable while we rode in the machine's strange carriage, so conversation had to wait until we were above ground again.

"Kedi," I said, getting frustrated. "I need to get to the collector and go home! You said you'd take me there, and..."

"I am taking you there!" Kedi shouted. It was the first time she'd been anything other than polite to me, so I held my tongue and decided to give her the benefit of the doubt one last time.

"Okay," I said. "Lead on."

We walked in silence for another few minutes, over more strange, seamless stone streets, and past thousands of other Okakdo all moving about their daily lives, seemingly unaware of the impossible, magic nature of the city around them, though most did seem to notice her, before some clipped Okakdo word from Kedi made them turn away. Then we came to it.

As we crested a hill, buildings gave way to open space, and a massive parkland extending to the left and right as far as I could see. But in front of me, a ridge I recognized all too well, even if there were only a few of the ferric collector towers remaining.

"What is this?!" I demanded of Kedi.

"You wanted to go to Arkon's collector. Here it is."

This made no sense. In all the other planes, the array, Arkon itself, was never there. On a few maps, the ridge itself was vaguely recognizable, but nothing left of the machinery, towns, castles or similar. On most, only the sea itself was a reliable landmark, and even then, it was usually far, far different than home.

But here... Here the towers still stood. The ridge looked identical, save for some small buildings and paths clearly put here by the Okakdo.

"What is this place?" I asked again, slightly less angry this time.

"A memorial," Kedi said. "To your people. To Arkon. Or at least, it should be."

My eyes went wide, partly in panic, partly in rage. "What aren't you telling me!?"

"Jumping," Kedi said. "You never jumped to different worlds or different planes. You jumped to different times. Most were so far in the future or in the past they may as well have been alien planes though."

My hands were shaking, cliched fists unsure if they should strike outward or inward. "So this... this place is Arkon?"

"Yes," Kedi said. "From what you've told me, and what I know of history, it's been nearly a thousand years since you left your war."

"Then I have to go back!" I grabbed the shot from a loose pocket. I was missing my coat, but still had the tuned-ferric helmet, and I could always just plug my ears.

"No! Please, Kira!" Kedi begged. "Hear me out."

"No, I have to save those men. I can't let them die."

"Kira, that's what I'm trying to tell you. Look up, look around you." Kedi sighed. "What do you see?"

"Okakdo, and your city, built on the ruins of..." It hit me then, the realization.

"I'm so, so, sorry Kira. I've been trying to prepare you for this, but you were so insistent, I couldn't ease you into it."

I fell to my knees. If this was the future of Arkon, then the war was lost, and those leathery bastards would... The second realization hit me then.

"Who," I snarled through gritted teeth, "Are you, really!"

Kedi reached out, stroking my chin with the feathers by her wrist. "I'm so sorry, Kira." I smacked her hand away.

"Who are you!!!" I shouted at her.

"Your people called us 'Lachics.'"

"Bastards!" I shouted at her. "You filthy bastards! What did you do! What the fuck did you do!"

I never knew Lachics could cry, but apparently, they can. Kedi looked me square in the eyes, and I could see a tear running through the down under her eyes, then she looked away and muttered only, "We won."

The simple truth of it overwhelmed me in ways I can only describe as "insanity." I fell to my side and started laughing uncontrollably, while simultaneously, tears streamed down my own face. As sanity returned some minutes later, I finally sat up, wiped my eyes on the strange cloth sleeve, and turned once more to Kedi.

"How did you do it?"

"The Everstorm. Our own researchers knew of it, and knew your elders were harnessing it somehow. They figured out a way to damage it, causing it to destroy itself. In the process, it annihilated everything near it, including most of Arkon. Our troops met very little resistance after that."

"So you exterminated all my people after that?"

"No!" Kedi looked horrified. "No, of course not."

"Then where'd they all go?"

"They died. Mostly of old age, but many younger."

"And their children?"

Kedi cocked her head to the side and down. "There... there were no children after that."

She went on to explain that some aftereffect of the Everstorm destruction damaged the survivors such that they no longer could have children. Her people didn't know it at the time, but in the centuries since then, they've learned a lot more, and suspect it was something she called a "neutron burst."

"So why don't you look like a Lachi?" I asked, mentally numb to the shock of my world ending, and curiosity seeming to fill the void.

"In ancient times, our warriors took a tea, a drug really, that made them stronger and more fierce. As a side effect, it induced a permanent molting state, leaving them featherless."

I tried to picture what Kedi would look like without her plumage.

"I was actually counting on it," Kedi continued. "When I brought you here. I didn't want you to fear us."

"Wait," forgetting what she said about feathers, "you brought me here?"

"Well, not precisely you. Rather, I set up equipment that was much like the old collectors," she nodded toward the ridge, "in the hopes that a jumper might be drawn here instead of the Arkon of the past."

"Why?" I asked. "Why care about an enemy you conquered a thousand years ago?"

Kedi sighed. "You were never my enemy, Kira. I know for you, the war is now, or yesterday, but to me, it's ancient history. I study history, and the greatest mistake my people ever made was destroying yours."

"Do you really mean that? We're at... were at war!"

"Kira, my people have a lot of things, a lot of luxuries yours never dreamed of. But we are alone. Our astronomers have searched the skies for the past two centuries, and found no other races to talk to. We know the ancient builders of the Everstorm must be out there somewhere, or at least used to be, but that's it. We're alone in an infinite, empty void. Yet I look to the past, and see we had another race, another people to share this world with, and we destroyed that chance over pithy disputes. Our races should have been friends, Kira, not enemies."

"So what, you want me to what, stay here and tell you stories?"

"Well, I would love that, yes, but... I want to save more of you, more jumpers might be drawn here, maybe your people can start over. That's my hope."

"Sorry, Kedi, but the Jumper Corps was all female. All the men had to fight, so us girls got to run the messages. Even if you draw other jumpers here, we're not going to be starting a new family."

"Kira, I know this is all new to you, but we have science that can get around that. With enough genes... enough 'bloodlines' we can let you have children here even without a male. Arkon can begin again, as our friends!"

Kedi seemed so sincere, so devout in her wish to resurrect the "lost" Arkon race. It was tempting... give it all up, forget the war and live in paradise. But paradise also sounded a bit like a zoo.

"When did the war end?" I asked Kedi.

"What?"

"How long, if I go back to my time, how long do I have before the war ends?"

She thought on it a moment. "I can't say for sure, but my estimates put it within your lifetime. A decade maybe."

"And the survivors, they still lived out their lives, even if they didn't have children?"

"Yes, we treated them as well as we could I think."

My mind was made up. "I have to go back, then. There are hundreds of men that are going to lose those lives if I don't."

I pulled out the shot.

"Please, Kira," Kedi looked at me. "Don't go."

"I have to, or I'll feel guilty the rest of my life."

"I..." Kedi said. "I understand."

"Then this is goodbye." I raised the shot, taking in a deep breath.

"No," Kedi interrupted. "It's not."

"Excuse me?"

She stepped next to me, and wrapped a feathered arm around my waist. "I'm coming with you."

"Why?"

"Like you said, I'd feel guilty for the rest of my life if I didn't."

"Are you sure?"

"Not really, but... maybe we can stop a war?" Her headfeathers tickled my chin as they rose up in a smile.

"We can always try."

I grinned as I threw the vial to the ground, embracing the bolt not just of energy, but of something I'd been lacking for a long time: Hope.