Trevor F. Coelho
Prologue
Rover
The night air felt crisp, a cool breeze kicking up dust across the cobbled road. The intensity of the sun gone hours ago, the heat slowly fading. The heaviness of the scorching day gone for now and in its place the frigid cold of a desert night. The twin moons full and so close bathed the city bellow in their eerie bright blue glow. Street lights cast their own dim glow across the cobbled street, though it seemed they cast only more shadows.
Tall compound walls rise up out of the night. The back side of the huge fort at the center of town. Like a toad in the mud it sat squat and wide covering many blocks. The rows of houses around it were made up of short white walled buildings. They cast deep shadows that crept up from every corner. Deep and forbidding they clung to the corners and alleyways refusing to give up the night to street lights.
In one alley the night shifts and moves seemingly alive. A man moving through the shadows emerges onto the street.
His dark coat fluttering open in the breeze despite the chill night. He pays no mind to the cold, he actually likes it, reminds him of home. He pulls up his hood, drawing it low over his eyes. Looking up at the wall keeping to the shadows along the buildings closest to the keep. He watches the few straggling night dwellers roaming the street, and waits. A long while passes in the dark of the alley till the street is clear. The sky filling slowly with clouds that cover the sky hiding the moonlight.
Electrified wire on barbed arms follow the top of the crenulated wall far above his head. He looks up at the wall stretching east to west ending in tall guard towers before they angle off north. Here and there a lamp flickers aimlessly pointing out into the streets; more still are burnt out all together. The hooded man gives one last look around and sees no one else looking. In the next instant he’s gone a faint swirl of dust and a slight snapping sound. The faint crackle a slight echo as a second snap later and he’s standing on the wall above.
There crouched in the embrasure he looks about, listening for any sign he’d been heard. A few guards their attention on a small handheld screen stand huddled around a heater farther down the wall. Faint puffs of cigarette smoke curling about their heads, they don’t even look around, they’re too focused on whatever is playing on the handheld.
The hooded man pays them little mind stepping easily along the edge of the wall. Dropping down into the courtyard bellow silent as night he makes his way through the yard. Casually avoiding the well-lit areas and sticking to the shadows of the many buildings.
To the untrained eye he looks like nothing more than some shifting shadows. Long strides carry him away across the sparsely guarded yard heading to the warehouses in the center of the fort. Even this far out in U.A.O. territories few would be fool enough to risk breaking into one of their forts.
Laughter and raucous shouts echo through open windows. The fort barracks and by the sound filled with men and women enjoying the night. The latest Rig battle was on TV tonight, the hooded man paused for a moment to listens in to the commotion. But time was not on his side even to afford just a second to catch the score. He already knew who would win, but it was always fun to see it happen first hand.
Going through the fort to the building he wanted, he felt everything around him. Knew where he needed to go as if he had been here already. It was a warehouse bigger than all the others, long and low with thick sturdy doors. He found it quickly and the two guards who stood stone still to either side of the door. With a quick jolt of aether out in either direction he made a crate fall one way; and the other a sound like shuffling shoes. Both men took the bait and turned their attention away. The doors were magnetically sealed and would have barred most, but this was no obstacle to the hooded man. Without a sound or slowing his pace he holds up one hand and the door bends aside. Twisting silently like wet clay in the hands of a sculptor it warps aside before him. He walks right between the two guards; still looking in the directions he pointed them; and through the open door closing it behind himself.
Despite the darkness that fills the room he pulls his hood low over his eyes adjusting it again. The front office is empty but for him, and a little light on the desk still on. The warehouse beyond lies in total darkness, but caution was best when trespassing. He moved quickly to get his task done before whoever had left on the light returned. No shutters or windows in the building meant he wouldn’t be seen from outside. Running his hand along the wall he finds the switch for the lights to the warehouse. The faint hum of fluorescent lights above like buzzing insects coming to life as they warm up.
Robotic arms hang from the ceiling in stations along an assembly line. They look up robotic eyes watching the intruder, their bright safety orange making them look like fancy bats at rest.
The hooded man walks quickly to the back of the line, large doors marked “SHIPPING” his final destination. Through the doors rows of metal racks packed with shoulder high pallets of sealed metal crates. The building was even bigger then he had realised. He swiftly picks his way to the end of the racks, the bright red stamp marking it as number zero. The sleek aluminum cubes shining bright in the light of the lamps above.
“There you are!” the sound of his voice echoing through the shelves came out much louder than he had anticipated. He glances about nervously to see that his lapse of calm hadn’t carried to far. He waited a moment standing ready, listening to the steady hum of the lights. Time is short though so he picks up his speed and carries on.
He kneels down beside the crate, his fingers probing along the surface till he finds the latch. A soft click and the double doors soundlessly open on pressurized hinges. They swing outward to reveal its contents nestled within. An orb, not one solid piece but a marvelous device like some great puzzle of curves and fine wrought edges bourn of marvels of engineering. A robot, no, the robot, he has searched for, the literal first of its kind.
Nervously he pats his coat down smoothing it out, checking his hood again. All in place he turns back to the crate and its contents. Its smooth grey metal semicircles edged in red on either side of a though rubber like track the newest military robots deceivingly simple. Reaching out he runs his hand gently across the shell. The I.D. number pressed into the hard grey plating reads, R0.V3R. He pauses a moment, then reads it out loud, “Rover?” he chuckles to himself.
Looking along the side of the crate he finds a remote. He takes it out punching at the keys and sits back on his heels as the orb begins to hum. A deep rumble as its generator begins to boot up, coming online for the first time.
He pats the wheel and whispers to the remote, “Time to wake up Rover”, his voice soft and gentle like speaking to a child. The tread begins to move rolling it forward hatches and compartments opening and closing. Going through its systems check.
The sensor arrays red laser tracing over the tall strange man, catches the remote and pings its command prompt. “This, oh Rover you don’t need this, you just remember what you’re told and do what needs doing. Ok little buddy.” Rover cancels the prompt rolling back and forth a bit. “You’ve got a lot to do, I know, but I need you to do a favor for me, think you can keep a secret for me Rover?” The man stares at Rover and though he has no eyes and makes not a sound Rover rolls forward ever so slightly waiting in anticipation.
The hooded man smiles back at Rover petting him gently as he leans in producing a small data stick, outdated tech but easily read by Rover. A quick scan of the disk is all it takes and the data is uploaded to his memory. Stepping back a bit from the crate the stranger checks his hood again as he stands. Dropping the remote into a pocket of his long coat and pocketing the data stick with it.
Rover unpacks the data and stores it in an encrypted file, waiting for anything else. The hooded man just pats him again and waves Rover back. Following the mans command he rolls back reconnecting into his cradle as the man taps the switch on the crate again. The hooded man gives a little wave and turns away from the crate walking back through the warehouse.
Back through the assembly line that had birthed the rolling bots, to the office with its lamp lit desk. Switching off the lights as he comes around the corner to the front.
As the hooded man arrives the front door opens a crack, the late night worker returning. The man in the hood barely flinches as the door to the yard opens the person in front of him, head down looking at the lock pocketing their key. They never even see him. A sharp snapping sound and the hooded man is gone. Just like that with a flicker and a slight crackle the hooded man is gone no visible trace remaining. Except a curious secretary with her finger in her ear, and a robot with a secret. Activated early, waiting eagerly to see what might happen next.
The Voice
Silence, all-encompassing and endless; through corridor after corridor, not a breath of air. To some it may have seemed disturbing, but not to her. The peace came to her in silence, glorious, wonderful, silence. Peaceful and quiet as the grave.
Through the halls of bone white steel she stalked like a wraith. Mind filled with troubles she broods as she makes her way through the endless passages. Her soft foot falls make no sound, her pace, slow and graceful. If not for the curls of fire red hair that fell in ringlets to her shoulders she would have appeared to fade like paint against the walls. Clothed in her usual white gown, even the cables that attached her to the hovering white throne that trailed her were white. She often thought of colour, when she watched the images of the worlds below her and saw the colour she could almost remember…. something.
She walked to the gallery of the ship back straight regal and elegant. Though there was none to see her she composed herself at all times. She was the Voice. Queens, and would be gods alike quaked before her power. As such she always carried herself like royalty. Her masters alone had the power to defy her will; yet, these days found her troubled.
By her will, the fate of worlds were decided. Long ago she had resigned herself to do her task. To guide the Ark to new worlds. Worlds to feed on, to remake these worlds suitable for humans. The sound of her voice the only sound as her machines burned away all traces of any previous inhabitants.
Anything that lived on target worlds didn’t live there long after her arrival; not usually. It had always seemed so distant. It had to be done. It was for her people, and she was their voice. Of late, not an easy task.
As she walked the halls of the Ark she found her thoughts hard to manage. Dreams wracked her with terror, harsh visions of cold black water filling her lungs. She had awoken screaming this time, unleashing waves of pure aether in fear. Crushing her droid attendants into the walls of her bed chamber as they tried to help her against an invisible assailant.
She had realised where she was to late to save the room, she would have to have the room rebuilt. Her droids were destroyed too, new ones could easily be made. Perhaps a new alloy, something resistant to kinetics.
After wandering through the halls she came at last to the gardens. A huge expanse that served as the ships biological filtration system. The forest spanned several hectares, and more then twenty stories, some of the trees here were nearly as old as the Ark itself. It ran like a ring around the core so that looking up you found yourself looking at the core.
The ships main core was a type of micro star so the trees here received real sunlight. Artificially made it was a tiny replica of the star that had been the heart of the humans solar system. The magnetic containment rings passing over it even simulated the passing of day and night. A fully natural living eco system of birds and insects kept the whole area running, with her drones to do the rest of the work. Even rain and snow could be simulated. The seasonal shift was automatic, today was a beautiful summer day. The smell of the grass and lilac bushes mingled here, birds chirped and a faint hum of crickets could be heard. It was a different kind of silence.
Coming here often she had even thought to have her main hub brought here once. The masters had decided it may give the wrong impression so she settled for a gazebo near a small brook. It was a nice spot and none bothered her here, least of all the Toad.
Here she kept her most cherished possession a violin she had had made. She could not remember when she had learned to play but it was something that came naturally to her.
She scooped it up from its case and sat back in her throne resting it gently under her chin. Putting the bow to strings she let it sing a sad tune and closed her eyes. She poured her heart into it and let the tunes and emotions wash away. Playing as she always did she let the song build from within. Gently caressing the strings she rocked back and forth swaying as if dancing with another. With each moment the song gained in intensity, flowing into a higher tempo as if it were alive itself. As she played she began to forget the dream, and where she was, who she was.
Yet as with most good things this brief release did not last. Pain lanced through her head as sharp as a hot knife.
Another of her Monoliths had fallen.
The first days after the start of the resurfacing was always the hardest. The monitors in the grand hall would fill with the images of those who thought to resist burning. Long ago she had even taken pleasure in it. Her creations doing her biding, she still remembered the shouts and cries as she sent the monoliths down crashing to the ground. The people had been nothing to her. No more than animals. These latest pests called themselves Tixie. Like any before them she gave them a week to leave their world. When the cull began she had her Watcher’s gather specimens. She had followed the schedule as always, the same for each new world.
Scan for a suitable world.
Warp there.
Seven days to make new Monoliths.
Send the Monoliths to deliver her word.
Seven days to clear the world.
After that a new gate was made and she would leave. It took about ten years to resurface, but she rarely stuck around for that. When the gate would activate to allow her people to travel to the new world she left. Her masters would send their praise and like a good girl she would simply move on to the next world.
This would have been the four hundred and thirtieth world. These animals resisted greatly, six months and still this ball of dirt was not being resurfaced. She had even intercepted transmissions they had attempted to send. More than any world before this one vexed her greatly. They possessed powers not unlike her own, though nowhere near as powerful. They wielded their emotions like a weapon. Lashing back with powers fueled by fear, and anger, and hate. And when they died, she felt more than their pain. She felt their life, all of it at once. It was like everything they were was leaving this plain of existence through her.
The first day of the culling had driven her to the edge of madness. Millions dying all at once released a psychic backlash so immense it severed her from her control over the Monolith, her mind had shattered like glass. Their deaths washing over her, surrounding her, choking her like black smoke forced down her throat. And it had not ended quickly.
Set free from her command the Monolith’s had killed without control. Reducing everything for miles to glass before she could regain control. Had it not been for the Toad she may have burned herself out.
As much as she detested the vile man he was the only other living person onboard the Ark. With his long thin arms and legs dangling from his pot bellied torso he truly looked the part of his name sake. Mr. Crapaud was her guardian, at least so he said, she admitted with him around she had fewer headaches. But it hardly seemed worth it to have the fat little Toad trailing her everywhere.
The Toad had moved the Ark further back to the edge of the suns corona, it had helped some. She had been able to regain her calm, but she could still feel it. Now and then their pain or anger would well, and a Monolith would fall, and the pain would return. Sleep no longer seemed possible, when she closed her eyes she could feel them, the last night being the worst. She felt their pain, knew it better than her own, yet she couldn’t stop. She was the Voice, and her word was law. They had been given fair warning, still they resisted.
She sat for some time there alone, but for the sounds of nature accompanying her music. The once lilting tune now a roaring concerto strummed from the strings as her bow whipped across their surface. The feeling of fear and pain drifting from the shattering world growing with it.
Leonard
The doors on the garage hadn’t been closed long, but already the heat was more than most could handle. The sound of the hammer falls on the white hot metal. Leo liked the heat, like his dad the heat only made him feel more awake, he enjoyed working the metal, all the tools about the shop hanging in their own places.
Though some people told his father it wasn’t safe to have a young boy working in a Rig garage, Leo never understood. He had been leaning about Rig repair since his mom had first begun teaching him his letters. He was also already shaping up just like his father, with strong shoulders and tall frame men twice his age wished for in the colonies. He kept his hair cut right to the scalp, a few more years and people said they’d look like brothers rather than father and son. Carrying ingots and tools in the forge had helped him in other ways too. He was stronger, and better built than most boys his age. His physique made him the eye of all the young women of the colony, though his parents said it would be years before they could afford to get him a marrying license. He didn’t get to sit around playing games, and fooling with girls like other colony boys, he had been working since ten but that suited him fine.
His father trained him every day to work with him. To be honest and good, however they had a secret.
Leo watched close as he worked hoping one day he’d be as good. With his palms aglow his father looked to Leo like a man turned volcano, as he manipulated the steel by hand. Every breath exhaled seeming to infuse more heat into the metal. Power rushing through him into the melding alloys.
“Boy!” Leo looked up at his father a frustrated look on his face, not a drop of sweat on his brow but frustration apparent in his gaze.
“Sorry father I….. ah, sorry.”
Shaking his head Leo returned to focusing on keeping the heat on the other pieces constant, hardly at his father’s level he could barely keep them lit. Leo had nearly burned their house down the year before when he sneezed, since then his father stressed how it was important to learn control. His mother cried every time she saw him for a week, not for the loss of the linens he had burned. She knew he was a Kinetic too. Both of his parents were, and they were proud he was too, but the colonies were no place for them to teach him. Hunters were always searching for any awakenings.
His had thankfully been mild and with a slight distraction elsewhere had gone unnoticed.
“Pay attention son”, his father reached over and ruffled Leo’s hair, “remember you’re not playing with a candle here”. He gestured at the furnace before them, flames leaping about the hot embers. Their burning light casting the large room in shades or orange and red that danced like tiny devils.
Leo’s father was one of the best Rig mechanics in all the Outkast penal colonies, and was known for his secretive ways. It helped he could fix anything and this made him very famous seemed he understood any kind of tech. For that reason he was the prised possession of their colonies warden. So come mid cycle people from all over the system and even from other galaxies who liked to compete in the Rig battles would come to him for his expertise. As such the warden made a lot of money off of the premium he charged for Samuel’s attention to any customers. It was the same thing every cycle, the closer it came to tournament day. Three hundred days a year spent on the Wardens beck and call, repairing and building Rigs for his clients, but the day the tournament started was sixty five days of rest. As long as Samuel worked hard he was allowed the tournament time off.
So the days leading up to the tournament were the hardest, waking early so they could get to the charge station for their families daily energy rations. Then off to the garage till his mum called on them for lunch.
The lunches were Leonard’s favorite, they would say grace; his mother insisted he learn Gaelic prayers. They ate their meal talking and laughing about the things his mum dealt with at the mill. His father would laugh and ask after the others at her work, this person or that. Soon as they were done she’d head back to the mill, and his father and him would head back to the garage. His Father hammering the alloy’s while Leo ran and got tools or pumped the bellows on the furnace. It was a joy to Leo, but this day felt much different, a stranger was waiting at the door when they returned from lunch.
“Mornin Sam, how’s it goin?” His accent was different than any Leo had ever heard. So was he though. Pale skinned, with a sharp nose and small squinty eyes, his hair so blonde it seemed almost white. He also was wearing the fanciest clothing Leo had ever seen trimmed in cold blue beads and silver filigree. Samuel however didn’t seem impressed at all.
As Leonard saw it, his father looked mad as hell at the sight of the fancy man. His father just glared at him though and walked on past. “Now, now, Sam don’t be so rude, we have business to discuss.” “There’s nothing you can say is gonna make me change my mind, Bartley, my Rig-Runner days are over.” The man his father called Bartley swung a heavy purse out in front of him, tattoos flashing along his wrist, he was a prime slave. “But Sam they don’t have to be, remember who holds your contract, we can make things...” “Bartley, no, is no.” Bartley looked completely undeterred, “I was going to say, worth your while, but, difficult, also works” His sneering grin made Leonard want to hit him too, he had no idea how his father held his cool. “Sam I’m your friend in all of this, no one wants this to get unpleasant. What if we agree to your terms from before, minus the freedom bit?”
This seemed to catch Leo’s father, he froze for a second, then turned to look Bartley in the eyes. Bartley’s smile widened into toothy a grin that split his face. His hand came up in a flourish, the purse replaced as if by magic with a rolled paper. He held it out to Samuel, the two stood there for a moment Bartley looking at his father and Leo’s father looking right back at him. Neither seemed about to move till finally and with much reluctance Leo’s father took the proffered document. “Great, so it’s settled then, I’ll have a notary over later to draft up the actual contract. Oh and Sam remember make it a good show, ok.” And as smooth as if he belonged among the rabble and trash that crowded the streets.
Samuel shrugged and slid the rolled paper into his lunch bag. Leonard watched his father, “what was that all about?” “Never you mind that, we’re already behind, get that furnace started. You’ll be helping me fix up that old Rig out back.” Leonard looked over the back fence at the towering rig that stood as a monument to his fathers glory days of rig running. “Looks like your old man’s in the Tournament this cycle.” Leonard couldn’t believe his ears, “Really? This is awesome, wait till mum hears.” His father winced looking down at his feet, absently kicking some metal shavings aside. “About your mum, let’s keep this a secret, ok son.” “But…” Samuel turned on him a stern look in his eye’s, “no but’s boy, I don’t wanna worry her none, we’ve got three days left to get that old Rig of mine up and running, make yerself useful son.” It was strange for his father to want to keep a secret like this quiet, but Leo thought his dad must have had a good reason.
Anyways he knew he didn’t have time to let his mind wander, they had a Rig to get ready.
Frieda
Hours had passed since Frieda had finally arrived at the chasm that led bellow the tundra. She had looked down at its winding path leading to the great city of ice and stone deep bellow. She stood against the wind her cloak ripping back and forth behind her, it bothered her little, and she was Fumorii. Her kind were one with the cold, taller and stronger than most humanoids. Their bluish hued skin and cold demeanor often led some to say, they were born of ice, this was just ignorance. She was flesh and blood, her heart beat in her chest a steady drumming of anticipation. The cold let her feel more alive then she had in a long time, her kind weathered the cold better.
She watched as her sons played with a wattole a short ways away, pushing it around like a ball. Its furry armour kept it warm as the two boys tried to get it to uncurl. Try as they might all it did was hiss and curl tighter. Frieda remembered her childhood was much the same. She had no brothers or sisters, but she had had friends once. Ones who journeyed far and wide with her, wandering across the cosmos. Now she returned to a home she had tried to forget, and she was afraid. There was none here she could trust, only her Grandfather and she didn’t even know if he could be awoken long enough to explain everything.
For five days she had trekked with her sons, through beast infested woods, to find herself on the high plains. The vast fields of ice and snow had brought her back, it had been centuries since she had even seen snow fall. They had been walking through the pine forest when it had started, huge flakes that floated like dancing fey through the evergreen boughs. She had seen the wonder in her son’s eyes as they danced about trying to catch the snow on their tongues. And now here she was standing at the path to her home town, and she couldn’t even bring herself to go any farther.
She closed her eyes a moment feeling the wind rush around, but a loud snap heralded the sound of Druken crying out and Ziehen laughing, turning her attention back to them. Druken rolling around as the Wattole had finally had enough and uncurled long enough to get its pincers around his hand. She sighed walking over to check on them, shaking her head.
“Stop tormenting him and help your brother,” she said giving her son a playful shove toward his brother. “I told him to leave it alone,” “Ziehen!” “yes mother.”
Sitting down next to his brother he rested his hand on Druken’s shoulder. Druken placed his free hand on Ziehen’s shoulder to, deep brown eyes filled with tears. Frieda watched her sons close, she couldn’t see what they did but her senses were keen enough that she felt it. The air charged, like static before a storm, the snow around them began to swirl.
Suddenly the Wattole shook and slowly uncurled, tiny pincer tipped legs flexing in the air as her sons coerced it open. She had never understood how they learned what they knew. As long as they were near one another there seemed nothing they couldn’t do. The little Wattole danced a moment, back and forth seemingly mesmerized, suddenly it qwaurked and rolled back up. The two boys smiled at each other and stood walking over to her. Druken still rubbing at his hand. Both boys were smiling shoving each other lightly when suddenly Ziehen turned looking back to the road that led down to the city. Druken’s eyes suddenly shifted pupils and iris contracting till all she saw was white. Both boys shook their heads the swirl of snow around them returning.
‘It’s time mum, they’re coming.”
Druken spoke but it was Ziehen she watched. Following his gaze she could see the telltale plumes of hot air rising up from the chasm.
They didn’t take long to return to normal, their powers were still not fully under control. They had lots of time, thanks to the warning, packing their few things and breaking down the tent. Within minutes they stood with bags and sled packed to go.
She was very proud of her sons but she was afraid for them ass well. Those born with the gift like them were often seen as different, she barely possessed any power what so ever and she had been forced to leave. She didn’t want her son’s to be made to feel different.
“Remember my sons you must not use your powers openly, few of our race have such gifts, and I know not who I can trust yet.” They nodded as one in that way they always did, “we know mother,” “good boys.”
By the time they had packed a small procession of Fumorii arrived. Wearing full armour, and carrying banners for the twelve holds, they looked more like they were there to arrest them rather than to greet them. A few even rode on trained volkad, giant snow white hounds with thick manes and shaggy fur, they were quite the sight. Nothing she hadn’t seen before though, but it had been a long while. So small a gathering would have seemed an insult in her younger days. Then an honor guard would have been mustered from every house to greet her and her parents. But it was just her and her sons these days. After so long living humbly even this seemed a bit extravagant.
One of the riders pulled ahead of the rest, pulling out a branch of holly and holding it out to her. “His High Lord Grosta Diamondblood, bares welcome to the lady Frieda Coldheart, we have been asked to take you to the estates of our lord. If it please you?” “No, but it will please me greatly to be shown to my Grandfather.” “My lord did say you may refuse. The Great Father slumbers my lady, but his estates are maintained always. I could have it readied for your arrival right away.” She nodded accepting the holly branch and giving it to Ziehen to carry. He held it a moment then handed it to Druken, who looked at it a brief moment then tucked it into the strap on his brother’s pack.
The soldier seemed satisfied with the show and turned to the rest holding his hand in the air. All of the guards filed in and two mounts were brought up for them to ride. “Please don’t worry about your things the porters will bring them for you.” The commander snapped his fingers and three humans came forward on foot wearing little more than furs. They trudged through the shin deep snow scarves wrapped tight against the bitter winds. The bigger of the three stepped forward pulling back his hood and bowing to them, his scarf loosely hanging about his shoulders, the cold seemingly not bothering him. He had the look of a deep space pilot with scars down one side of his face that obviously been meant to leave him blind in that eye.
Neither boy relinquished their packs instead they stood frozen in what Frieda could tell from their faces was anger. Her sons were good at reading the situation, and knew slaves when they saw them.
She was the first to speak up, her own anger not hidden well either, “what is the meaning of this, why are these prisoners being used as porters?” Never in all her life had she seen her own people treat prisoners so poorly, slavery was beneath Fumorii honor. “They work to earn their freedom, for their crimes, my lady, they are treated no worse than they deserve.”
“I suppose this is Grosta’s idea,” even through the visor of his helmet Frieda could feel the officers eyes narrow. A slight to his lord, was a slight to his honor but she was not one to care, and he must have known. “Lord, Grosta, my lady, and yes, he put forth the edict that all criminals were to be made useful, or sold to recoup on their dues.” “Slavery is not our ways, how far have we fell to allow this.” “It is not mine, nor the lady’s, place to question.” With that he turned and trotted off to the front of the line. Other soldiers looked away taking care to not meet her gaze, not a one did not feel the shame of her words.
The porter came forward standing right before Druken, nearly a hand taller he was big for a human. Almost as tall as their father had been.
“It’s alright little lord, I’ll take that for you.”
“No, I will carry my own, sir.”
“Sir, mighty polite of you but just call me Looker, it’s what they call me now.”
He reached out for the pack, but both boys stepped back.
“Look here, I promise it’s alright.”
“Boys just give them your bags, we will talk about this after.”
The two boys looked at her a moment, then at each other. They shrugged and turned walking ahead to where the rest of the foot soldiers were.
They had done it again. In a fraction of a second they seemed able to have a conversation and they always left her out of the loop. It wasn’t to be rude they just were very independent. Like all the times before she knew she would have to ask.
“What are you doing?” Without stopping or even slowing their pace Druken simply shouted back over his shoulder. “You always said that our father stood against this kind of thing.”
Ziehen turned walking backwards a few steps and smiled sweetly at his mother. She felt for a moment like she was the child, having the ways of the world explained to her. “If we give them our bags then its no different than us saying that we’re ok with slavery.” Both boys kept on walking, they were always so black and white about things. Even before she had ever told them about their father they were so much like him. They were kind and smart, even here among hardened soldiers none could resist against their charm. Saying there introductions to the soldiers they passed. One soldier laughed patting Druken on the head. So much like their father.
“My lady I mean no disrespect but…” “What did you do?” He looked at her a moment before answering. One finger scratching at the scars around his eye. She saw now that the eye had been replaced with a prosthetic. A deep blue to match the other but it was definitely tech, so at least they weren’t in bad health.
He sighed deeply looking around at the other guards before answering, dropping the volume of his voice. “I fought on the losing side my lady, I was a soldier, got captured and sent here after losing a territory dispute with your people.”
He straightened up a bit, hands behind his back. He certainly looked the part of the soldier. She nodded to him hanging her pack over the saddle of the volkad, clicking her tongue so it would start moving. “We will have to see what we can do, those boys are my pride and joy. Watch them and I will do for you what I can.” He didn’t say anything but bowed waving to the other porters to come over. Together they grabbed the reins of her volkad and the sleigh and started forward. Once she began the line of soldiers began to march on as well. The trek back wouldn’t take long so she followed her son’s example and walked instead of ride. She always felt such pride in her sons. She could still see them walking ahead, a pair of guards were walking beside them, one laughing so hard he had taken off his helmet to wipe his eyes. They were like two half’s of one mind, Druken quiet and strong, Ziehen joyful and gentle. So like their father, and soon they would show everyone just what that meant.
Amaterasu
Far to the east the setting sun cast its red glow, setting the land awash in the hues of autumn. It had stormed for three days, lightning pouring from a sky filled with clouds that had churned like boiling tar, each strike lanced down with such force none could dare leave their homes. Winds and rains had washed entire farms away, causing floods leaving many uprooted from their lives. Yet now the people rejoiced, for the empress had given birth, a new son to the royal family.
Amaterasu sat on the bench on the balcony that over looked the city. Watching the sky, singing an old lullaby, and stroking the egg in her lap.
It was warm as fire, as her fingers traced the swirls of the shell, she could feel the life of her son within. He would hatch a human, she felt a slight pang of regret at that, but she was happy.
Four children each one gifted, but only her daughter had been born with her mothers gifts but her bones were too brittle, too human.
She looked back over her shoulder, the sound of soft footsteps on the tatami mats alerting her to someone’s approach. The screen door slid aside to reveal a small group had gathered there. Her husband was the first she saw though his face looked sad. He had yet to see her since she had given birth, she had come here right away.
“Yoro.”
She held out her hand to him and in a heartbeat he was there strong arms gathering her to him. She inhaled the scent of him, pressing her face tight against his chest. Wrapped tight in his strong arms, she lost herself and forgot they were not alone kissing him passionately. She loved him with all her heart, he had always been there for her. A slight cough brought her back to the moment and she realized her other children were here too.
“I’m sorry my little ones, come, meet your new brother” All three children rushed forward to lay their hands on the soft shell. Little Mazu kissing it gently wrapped her scarf around him and lifted him into her arms. She was so beautiful, long raven black hair and huge deep green eyes. Only fifteen cycles old and Amaterasu could tell she would have men falling over themselves to proclaim their undying love. She sat down on the bench still holding the egg, gently showing her brothers how to run their hands over the shell. It shook suddenly causing them all to jump. They giggled and set the egg down on the bench wrapping the scarf so it would sit upright. The red silk of the scarf seeming to grab the suns dying light coming alive, its scale pattern like some kind of small coiled serpent. Amaterasu watched the tassels fluttering a moment, her mind still wandering in the clouds.
Yoro seemed to notice and cleared his throat catching all of their attention. “Mazu take your brothers to the hall, it will be dinner soon.” She smiled up at him sweetly the perfect picture of an angel, “of course father, Lu, can you hold Yang’s hand?”
All three stopped to hug their mother, then left with little Yang crying huge gasping sobs. She hated to see them cry. There would be many more tears soon enough, more than she felt ready to deal with. “So how long till you leave my love?” His abrupt question caught her off guard, she could feel it already, the wanderlust of her kind. She shook her head to clear it before looking up at her husband. He still was the man she had fell in love with, but time was beginning to change him.
His hair no longer as black as jet was streaked with lines of grey, his face lined by the creases of age. And no matter how much body moding he underwent, one day his spark of life would fade. Again the urge to flee the moment caught her. She turned from him to look out the window.
“Su, don’t shut me out like this.” He wrapped his arms around her again, holding her tighter this time. “Yoro, I will stay till he has hatched, I will be the first thing he sees, but.” “But? But what?” She could hold it in no longer and began to weep, like a dam had opened she wept and could not stop. They stood there for some time, saying nothing, and everything.
“This is it Su, isn’t it? You won’t be coming back this time will you?” She nodded, still unable to look at him.
They stood there till the sun was long gone, frogs chirping their evening song from the ponds in the garden bellow. The smell of the cherry trees blowing across the balcony, she looked up at the sky the stars like jewels cast to the heavens. She still could feel the pull of the sky, she looked down at her son, his egg faintly glowing. She smiled, reaching up over her shoulder stroking Yoro’s face.
“One day these children will rule this empire, and it will be your guidance that teaches them how. I am a Dragon, I can teach them only of war and fire. That is not what I want for them.” She choked back another fit of sobs, “I won’t watch them grow old and die too.”
She pulled free from him long enough to scoop up their son and unwrapped the scarf from around him, holding him out to Yoro. “You will name him won’t you? Something powerful, to give him strength.” Yoro looked down at the egg placing his hands on it thoughtfully looking it over.
“I think I have just the name, what do you think of Tenzin?” “Tenzin? Do you not want to have one son named after yourself?” “I have time for that.” “Oh, and by whom?” “Do you think me so old I could not find a woman to remarry after you have left.” His smile said he was making fun of her, but still the words hurt.
She held her son to her breast resting her chin on the shell feeling the texture of it tickle her chin, her jealousy boiling up in her throat. Heat rising in her chest as her inner fire began to burn high.
“I forbid you to fall in love again. You may give your body to every woman you see from the moment I leave to your dying day, but I forbid you to give up that which is mine.” He reached out taking her face in his hands, the sternness of his gaze holding her eyes. “Never will I love another as I have loved you. You are my sun and moon,. You are my goddess.”
He took the egg in his arm cradling his son against his chest, and reached down taking her hand in his. “Never will any take your place in my heart.” He rested her hand against his chest pressing firmly so she could feel his heart beat. She smiled at him, her husband. She knew he spoke the truth, he always did.
“Tenzin.” She paused a moment saying the name in her head over and over. “I suppose it has a nice ring to it.” “Come Su, let’s join our family at dinner, it’s probably cold by now, there will be time to talk of parting ways later.”
He took her hand and walked with her back into the palace, they ate dinner with their children, till the lamps were burning low, and finally they went to sleep. They spent the next few days all together, taking walks through the orchards, telling stories and playing games. They never let more than a few moments pass where they were not together. Till the third day, when the sun set, and Tenzin awoke.
Marshal
It was a particularly rainy day, the sky filled with dark grey clouds that boiled down for the mountains. Rain pouring down steady, showing no signs of stopping. Marhoot the rain spire. A whole world with near constant storms, Marhoot’s cities reminded him of pictures he’d seen of old London. Tall red brick houses and shops lined the streets, their uneven steeples a mixture of tile and thatch. Fog and rain in a daily mix, sure the sun came out but never long. Giant nuclear powered steam trains chugged along on their tracks, whistling their departures and arrivals, the city was always bustling. With goods coming in or leaving for the ports to be flown up to the transports in orbit.
People were always about, it was never quiet and that’s how Marshall liked it. He loved this world as much as his home town on earth.
They were nothing alike when he thought about home, but none the less, what he loved here made him remember where he came from. He loved to sit out on the balcony of his flat looking up at the mountains that surrounded the city. Loved taking the trains that ran under the mountains between the valleys, and their individual cities. The huge cloud high stone spires they called the mantel were so steep it made the lowlands the only places on the whole world anything that needed oxygen could live. Everlasting chinooks left the valleys in a constant downpour.
He knew this world like many others though and the people rushing about. All of them unaware of the danger that lurked in plain sight. He knew better than most, knew what it was like to be hunted, and to be the hunter. He had seen into the wicked eyes that stalked the cosmos. Seemed at times a cruel joke from the universe, which he seemed to be the punch line of.
He saw things, things others didn’t, knew what crept in the darkest parts of anyone he saw.
Yet despite the worst of what he saw, he loved this world and loved his job. Not as much as he loved Dog, though that thought seemed out of place to the moment.
It was here he always found himself work. A private detective could always find leads in the pubs and bars that were the hub of every crewman between jumps. And this was a key point jump world, the only way in or out of the galaxy was transit documents from here. Real or forged anyone looking for passage out of W234179-B had to come here. But it wasn’t forgers or their customers he was after today.
He had found a kid beat up in an alley the night before, when the kid had come to he had said it was over his sister. She had gone missing shortly after he came back from a run through the inner belt. When he went looking for her, he found some tougher guys then himself waiting instead of his little sister. So Marshal had decided to help the kid out.
This seedy looking dive was his favourite. On a lonely street in a town with only one station, if he squinted he could almost see his flat from the street over. A tiny brick building with only one door and one window. Perfect for meeting with someone you didn’t know.
There was only one entrance to watch.
Leraie
Deep in the outer reaches of space far beyond the light of creation a desolate ship travels toward the one spec of light. Twisted like an old oak its outer hull pulsing with sickly light.
The air within is thick, humid, and rank, heavy with earthy scents and the sweet smell of decay. Gathering in the halls thick mist flowing along the vine covered ground like streams of water. Halls covered in vines clinging to the walls and ceilings, pulsing globes of green light hang here and there like over ripe fruit. The light they cast giving an eerie glow over the gathering that crawled among them. The awakening chamber had been designed like every other aboard the ship, the corridors vaulted above like a cathedral. Each area designed first to be pleasing to the eye, like a living work of art. Now it was a ghost of its former beauty, the rot had set in, twisting it, putrefying its once beautiful design. Once it had carried life to new galaxies, now it was no more than a tomb for spectres and demons.
In the distance a horn peels a mournful echo. Droning on and on it sounded from deep within the ship. Those that worked tending the pods stopped and followed the call. Creatures skittering through the mists and along the walls they swarmed like locust to the grand hall. Leraie had been waiting for this, he stayed only a moment to stroke the pod he tended before following the Seed.
The Seed always avoided the awoken, they heeded their command but fear forced that. They flowed around him and the few other risen walking toward the grand hall. They were fascinating creatures to say the least. A plant that looked like a man, their skeletal appearance hiding tremendous strength. Fearsome looking faces like some bird of prey, small luminous eyes that seemed to look at nothing, but saw everything. But these Seed were not normal ones, a virus had changed them too.
Leraie had been one of the first to see the effects when the Seed had appeared in a flash of kinetic power. Deep in the Void far beyond the edge of creation the Ari gathered, cursed and formless. His body stripped from him Leraie had floated through space, it was an easy enough thing to do. Time meant nothing to the eternal soul. His peaceful nothingness was broken though when the ship appeared. But with it came the hope for a new beginning for his people.
As the light had faded a small planet shattered to its core floated where once nothing had been, caught in the grip of a tree dark and twisted. Surrounded by clouds of poison that would have killed any other living thing, yet it seemed the tree was consuming it. The Ari who had gathered went closer watching the battle unfold. He had watched floating unseen through the halls, watching the creatures turn on each other. Those infected were without fear tearing those that weren’t apart. Claws oozing vial toxins that left those they touched lying in tatters throughout the halls. After a time all was quiet, and only the infected remained, but the dead did not stay down. As the dead began to rise bodies twisting and breaking, flesh pulsing and falling off. They soon would stand looking just like their attackers, the virus spread like fire through dry lands. Leraie had watched them for quite a time, after it had become quiet they just stood there. They stopped moving but the tree did not. Its leaves grew hard and stretched out covering it like a scab. Hard plates the colour of dry blood, veins pulsing through them. In no time at all it had consumed the entire planet breaking it apart to the core. It pulled the core within it not just devouring it but making it one with it. The tree no longer looked like a tree, four huge roots had grown out around the core, roots wrapping it tightly. The trunk had widened out growing into the canopy which had formed three more huge spikes. Leraie had seen tech like this before, living machines made by the Eternals. This was a darker version of the Mirridianna’s Seed.
He had floated through each hall a hundred times before he became bored. The Seed did nothing, so it seemed. Many other had wanted to leave the void, taking this as a sign it was there time to change to. Bai’Bahram also took it as a sign, but not that it was time to leave. He believed the Seed were a gift.
These creatures were mindless, soulless, which meant they could be hosts. A hollow body could be truly possessed.
Many tried, and most failed, the Seed dying in agony rejecting the Ari soul violently. But it was Bai’bahram who succeeded. Forcing his soul into the husk he had anchored his mind to every part of its body, a risk should it tear him apart. The creature shook and screamed clawing at its chest as if to remove him by force. But soon it tired and was finally still, Bai’Bahram soul remained trapped. Soon the ship stirred vines growing over the two, cocooning them together. Five times the core made a full rotation, and on the seventh day he arose. The cocoon opened like a flower and from within the petals emerged the first. Still a Seed in appearance with its color and claws it stood up right now the tendrils which had once thrashed about its body now wrapped tight around the body giving him the appearance of muscle. He had stepped forward then and raised his arms in triumph, the first to rise, he showed others, how to harness the creatures rage and fear and take power from it. His lieutenants from the war were the first to follow then Lerarie.
Leraie himself had hatched different than most. The first to follow Bai’Bahram had awoken like him clad in a hard body like a knight’s armor. When Leraie had taken his body he could feel his mind as he stretched into the body. Muscle and flesh seemed to contract around him.
Rather than push out to gain the form the others had, he tried to remember how he had looked when he had flesh. So long ago it was he could not remember his own face, but he remembered things still. His wife in his arms, how she would lean against his chest when he would return from battle. He had never been as big, or ass heavily muscled as others he knew, but he had always had her eye. When he finally awoke the shell of his body seemed right. He stood shorter than the others, but still bore the vicious trademarks of his host.
So long had he spent floating through the vast nothing of space, he had forgotten how it all felt. The sound of his new voice was like grinding stones, and still it was like music to his ears. As a soul he could feel everything around him, but now with his eyes he saw it for himself. These creatures had senses far superior to any mundane being he had ever possessed. Peerless strength and speed, he felt more the worrier then he ever had wearing a second skin armor.
He praised Bai’Bahram, he would follow him to the rift and back. For without him Leraie knew he would never have been able to hold his wife again.
She waited for him in the hall, a place for them held especially by Bai’Bahram himself. Others, his wife included, had watched as he had changed and now others had seen they too could look more like they had. Though the Seed were without gender it was no longer difficult to tell gender by sight. She saw him and stood as he approached they embraced and waited for the sermon to begin. Each day as new brothers and sisters awoke. They were greeted by the voice of their Lord Commander. The first teachings of the Void. This day was no different and as always Leraie, with his wife in arm, awaited the glorious teachings of their faith.
A hush fell over those assembled, even the Seed quieted down as Bai’Bahram stood up from his throne. His daily sermon to his reborn brothers and sisters.
"In the beginning there was nothing, not a grain of sand in all of the endless cosmos. There was only the Void, expanding out filling the inky black nothingness with its essence, it was energy beyond imagining.
One day all peace for the Void was destroyed.
A tear appeared, the first rift of Creation, and from this rift poured life, and light. It stretched out across the Void in all directions and as it gathered here and there more life was begat.
Creation rose from the rift and took root, from this energy. It was too much for the Void, filling the peaceful nothing with overwhelming light.
The Void was endless, but Creation was limitless.
The power of Life was chaotic and noisy and the Void did not appreciate it, but Creation was proud of it. And so the two often were at odds. In time the Void came to think, if Creation could make what it pleases with life, so to could the Void. And so a new life was born made of Creations life and the Voids will. Life and Will formed new beings, all manner of things came of this union. Most cherished of all were the Eternal. In them the Void came to see what it was, that Creation too, saw within life. And for a time Creation and Void nurtured these beings together. Creating life and watching it’s will be done. And so life flourished and itself became more and Creations power grew.
Soon these beings began to praise the life they had, and gave thanks to Creation. The Void saw this and was angry, for it too had played its part in the beginning. It was within the Void that Creation had found the slate upon which to cast life.
So the Void shook loose a drop of it power and gave new meaning to life, by giving it a means to end. To see that all that was taken would be returned. And so it was that day and night fell upon life, and they knew joy, and sorrow with it.
These new beings were the Mundane and they lived to die, they counted the days and nights and knew them numbered. Even the beings eternal would fall prey to them, for the eternal ones were arrogant of the plight upon the mundane, thinking themselves better, for surly Creation loved them more. The Mundane were enraged by this and so saw the eternal as enemies. For though both had all that Creation could offer before them, the Mundane had little time to take of it what they wanted. And so rushed through life and took all they saw, even the lives of each other.
Creation watched the lives of the Mundane and pitied them deeply, their hate and rage poisoned them. So to them Creation bestowed the greatest gift it could conceive. Creation itself. Given the ability to create, and multiply. To hold the power to make life, and create what they will with it. Again the Void was forgotten and Creation was praised. The Void was not pleased. It sought a way to return all to the nothingness. Having had enough of ungrateful life the Void began whispering to the Mundane, sowing again the seeds of discord. Playing side against side, it choose those Mundane whose power was greatest those who heard it’s will the loudest. Those with total control over the power of creation. The called themselves Ari and stood dominant over all, and so the Void told them take what was their birthright. There were some of the Mundane who choose to side with the Eternal. They were branded enemies.
As well any of the lesser breeds who did not fight for the Ari. And to the cosmos the Ari flew taking the power of the Eternals for themselves. With this they cleansed the impure, and punished those who did not bow. But not all the Ari were loyal and Creation spoke through them to dissuade those it could. They gathered the weak and fled to the Eternal and together they destroyed the Ari. But no victory is without its lessons learnt for the defeated. The Ari returned to the Void, but the Void had greater plans for them, to be made new. Born again of the Void, its will made life. Energy eternal. Power beyond imagining. LIFE ETERNAL."
All those who had voice cried out in joy, a cacophony of hissing grinding shouts of reverence. "LIFE ETERNAL." Again he intoned to them the faith of the Void. "Always and forever, LIFE FROM THE VOID!" Again they called back to him. "LIFE FROM THE VOID!"
He stood back and looked to his council, Leraie as well as the four to have risen with him, together called, the Pale Ones. "Those mewling low breeds in the expanse think themselves safe, already they bicker amongst themselves. Squabbling over the lost bits of our power. So let us add to the discord my brothers and sisters." He sat back down in his thrown surveying the ranks of those who had been reborn, and the twisted creatures that obeyed his command. Row by row they knelt before him, slamming fist to chest in deafening chorus.
"BAI’BAHRAM, BAI’BAHRAM, BAI’BAHRAM!
-End of Prologue-