by Zy Rykoa
‘General, I was not expecting your presence,’ he said, his voice calm, almost musical in its softness.
‘I must apologise for my sudden appearance, the decision to be here was not planned.’ With an open hand, palm facing up, Alkon pointed toward Liet. ‘I have with me my second-in-command. He wishes to see the project.’
For the briefest instant, Ethan almost seemed critical, but then thought better of disobeying his commander and nodded.
‘Come this way,’ he said, walking out of the first room and into the next where they were away from the other scientists. ‘With more time, this will become our testing area,’ he explained casually, walking through the first section of the room, through the empty space between some wooden crates and benches and then standing by the door at the farthest side.
‘The latest work is in no condition to be tested,’ Ethan went on, ‘but I can arrange for a demonstration with our previous model.’
‘It will suffice,’ assured Alkon.
With another nod, Ethan exited the room briefly into another and returned with two other scientists. They carried with them a black padded crate that they set down carefully by one of the benches facing the wall to Alkon’s left. Two more scientists came after, carrying three stands of a sort and a sheet of square metal, two inches in width. They placed the metal in the first stand fifteen feet away from the bench, and then the other two stands facing one another in front. The stands were then connected to a power source before the men left the room.
Ethan and the remaining men lifted a strange machine up out of the crate and onto the bench. It looked unfinished, much of its hardware still visible as well as wires messily wrapped through large gas canisters on either side. There were coils through the centre and a partly mirrored tube almost twelve inches wide, which was pointed toward the sheet of metal in the stand.
Once the machine was in place, Ethan directed his commanders into the part of the room behind glass, the observation room, while he returned to the machine.
Lights became active as he operated the many dials and buttons on the back, and the partly mirrored tube became bright with red light. As he finished, he turned to Alkon and awaited further authorisation to continue.
Alkon bowed and motioned with his hand in show of his permission, and Ethan put on safety glasses and stood as far back as possible from the machine.
Liet leaned closer to the glass, anxiously awaiting what he was about to see. It appeared the machine was a weapon of sort, as he had expected the Equai to produce, but it was like no other he had ever seen. Many of the advances made by the Equai in the field of weaponry were more powerful and faster-firing guns, or bombs that were up to three times more explosive than the ones previously used. This machine, however, was neither. It didn’t even seem to use projectiles of any sort.
His curiosity was roused further when a laser appeared on the sheet of metal, a single red dot targeting the centre. The machine’s coils then became alive with random discharges of electricity. Smoke began to fill the room as the overhanging lights were dimmed, and a second beam of red, almost as wide as the partly mirrored tube, was then positioned around the inner laser, seen only as the smoke reflected it. But unlike the targeting laser, it did not reach the metal. The two stands that faced one another had become active, creating a force field between them, seeming as a pond of orange light as the laser caused ripples to splash out from the centre.
With a blinding flash, a bolt of white and purple light then shot from the machine with a sound almost like thunder, as if a lightning strike had actually occurred. The force field seemed to deactivate as the bolt penetrated its surface and struck the sheet of metal behind it. The metal crackled as the intense heat melted through it, a large hole being burned into its centre.
Liet jumped back a little at the sight, his normally unshakable composure lost. Alkon grinned at seeing this, and everything in the test area began to quiet down as the ceiling lights became completely active once more. The demonstration had been a success. Having received the reaction he had hoped from Liet, Alkon turned to Ethan with a bow of gratitude before motioning for Liet to follow him out of the building, leaving Ethan and his team to their work.
As they exited, Liet’s shock remained. The machine’s activation had been as strange as its appearance. In truth, there was nothing else like it in their arsenal, if it was in fact a weapon at all. It had used a method of fire, and it seemed to inflict damage of a sort, but that was all he had understood of it. The achievements of the Equai never ceased to amaze him, and each new discovery left him even more confused than the last.
There were many unanswered questions about this machine, and it became apparent that Alkon would not give any explanation, smugly satisfied with all that had taken place. Liet would have to ask if he were to know anything more on the matter.
‘What was that?’ he asked brashly, his voice failing to hide his obvious bewilderment.
Alkon’s smile widened in amusement, ‘That, my friend, was the Equan Plasma Cannon.’
It was a weapon.
Liet ran through the possibilities of such a device; its uses in battle, what protection it could give, what it could be used against. But he knew these answers were irrelevant. There could only have been one purpose for such a weapon being created. However, this didn’t explain why Alkon had kept it hidden from the High Council, let alone had it researched to begin with.
‘It went straight through one of our shields,’ Liet thought aloud. ‘Our shields are not too different to the other shields we at times encounter.’
Alkon made no sign of wishing to reply, a contented smirk still set comfortably on his lips.
‘You believe the Daijuar to still be a threat?’ continued Liet.
Alkon’s reply did not come until they were in the heart of the seated Callibrai, as if he wished for them to hear every word of the conversation, even if they were only able to understand a single name.
‘Perhaps,’ he said.
‘They have not stood against us in years, why have you developed this technology?’
Alkon gave a low chuckle. ‘You cannot predict what may come in the future. It is better to be prepared for the worst than the best. It is old wisdom, friend.’
‘We saw the shield protecting this village during the attack. It was disposed of in less than a minute. Was that not Daijuarn?’
Alkon paused. ‘That remains to be seen,’ he said.
Liet nodded in agreement. He knew the shield had differed to those of the Daijuarn sentinels they had faced in the past. It was far larger, able to cover the entire valley with its power, and it had only lasted a matter of minutes, perhaps only one. The Daijuar were able to hold their shields in place for hours, but at only a fraction of the size. It could have meant a stray sentinel had made the shield, unleashing all of their power in a single burst for no reason other than to delay the inevitable, although even this seemed unlikely. The Daijuar knew when to flee and save their own lives. They would never have risked such exhaustion for so little reward. And yet the shield had come, and it had protected the village from one of the biggest air strikes that had been sent.
‘I believe you are right to question it,’ said Liet after some consideration. ‘The light appeared to come straight from the ground rather than move outward from a central force. It seems to fit … do you think it was him?’
‘If it was, he is not the adversary we were assured. My explanation to the High Council for why we used such force against a helpless village may not be understood.’
‘We had to be sure we were prepared,’ offered Liet.
Alkon nodded, ‘There was a report of burned guards that were holding an old man prisoner. There is a chance he escaped to raise the shield. Perhaps he let the shield down to save himself. ’
‘And the earthquake?’
‘He is perhaps as lucky as he is powerful. Without it, he would not have escaped.’
Without another word, Alkon walked forward, throug
h the Callibrai and to the other side of the field to a second group of temporary buildings. Outside the first was a dark figure of a man, hidden under the hood of a maroon raincoat and nursing his left arm in a sling. He stood tall, even in the presence of the two commanders, and gave no sign of acknowledgement as they reached him.
‘Where is your companion?’ asked Alkon.
‘He fell,’ came the man’s simple reply.
‘What happened to your arm?’ asked Liet, a slight note of interrogation in his voice. ‘You were not present at the battle.’
The man lowered his already hidden eyes further, ‘There was a disagreement.’
‘You speak in puzzles, my friend,’ said Alkon warmly. ‘They are not necessary here. Remember, you have done us a great service. We are in your debt.’
‘All for the Alliance,’ the man bowed.
‘May its reign be eternal,’ Alkon agreed. ‘Come now, I wish to introduce you to the superior officers with whom you will be working. I would suggest wiping away the rest of those tomato seeds first. As long as you maintain their respect, if ever you are in need, you may call on their services.’
‘I will.’
The man’s words were blunt, as if his decision was enough to conclude the conversation. He moved to the side, allowing Alkon to walk by him and through the door.
Inside this building was a single plain room with a long crescent desk at the back, paper and writing equipment strewn across it. Eleven men in dark gray uniforms sat on the opposite side, all talking amongst themselves. They silenced as Alkon walked to the centre, where he waited for Liet and the hooded man to take seats at the end of the table before he addressed them all.
Alkon glanced over the room quickly in acknowledgement of those in attendance. ‘The mission has so far been a success,’ he began. ‘Congratulations are in order to all of you. Your families will be well rewarded.’
The men nodded approvingly. It was written in law that all who served under their rule would have their families rewarded according to their rank. It had been years since the men present had been able to achieve a substantial offering from the High Council, the stalemate between the two most powerful forces on the planet causing tension on both sides and limiting victories for each, but those times were now changing, and the men could sense it.
‘In the coming days, we must build supplies until we are ready to move north,’ Alkon went on. ‘Our fight against the Resistance may soon be at an end. Now that we have entrance to Aurialis by land, we can attack Corsec city from all sides, without obstruction from the Diadon fleets.
‘But do not be fooled. The obstacles we face are still great and many. There are powerful nations in these lands that oppose us. General Xosis Tigon has taken the more difficult of the two routes to Corsec, so it is imperative we are victorious in ours.
‘I will not tolerate failure. Be precise in every order, disciplined in every action. Your lives depend on your abilities. Is that understood?’
All those around the table, other than Liet and the hooded man bowed slightly.
‘Good. Major Rikta,’ Alkon looked at the man sitting at the very edge of the table, opposite the entrance. ‘I trust you have seen to the installation of the Equan R.I.D. Towers?’
‘Yes, General.’
‘Then the Resistance will not be able to track us. Many of you have wondered at our choosing of this place so far from our objectives. The answers are simple. First, this valley provides us with security. The mountains act as a natural fortress. We may only be attacked from the same way we entered. But our safety will not remain. In the near future, a matter of weeks or months, we may be discovered. I want this unit prepared. Your next orders are to complete drills daily. Keep the men active. Post guards at the entrances and send scouts out to ensure nothing is able to get in without detection.
‘The second reason is the desire of a man who has given us the alliances needed to be here. He has earned the trust and respect of the High Council, a native of these parts. I give you this man; Kobin Guyde of Callibra.’
The man sitting next to Liet lowered the hood of the maroon raincoat, revealing his golden-brown hair, beard and features to light. At first glance, he seemed pleasant to look at, of a rare beauty only found in this land, save his strong jaw and flat forehead that gave him his rugged look. He was a man who could be trusted with the respect he would no doubt earn, but his eyes soon became apparent—piercing, blackened eyes that seemed to drive fear with each stare, while holding all the softness in the world at the same time. The men around the table became uneasy with this contradiction, their nods of approval slowing until they all simply stared at this strange man before them—a man who had sacrificed home and family for no more than power and respect among those he should have called his enemy.
‘His authority is not to be questioned,’ Alkon continued. ‘Master Guyde, you may introduce yourself more thoroughly when the need arises.’
Alkon looked at the underside of his dark leather glove to check the time. ‘I am due to report to the High Council in a moment, so let me say this in closing. Our ultimate victory is at hand. The war will be over and you will return to your families soon. You have your orders; execute them with the pride of the Alliance.’
Alkon gave a slight bow before exiting the building.
The room was instantly filled with the same murmur of many conversations as there had been upon his entrance. All were speaking of their new orders and when they believed they would be returning home, save for Liet and the man next to him, Kobin, who seemed to look down upon the mindless ramblings of the others and refused to become involved.
‘A great disappointment seems to be approaching,’ Liet said softly.
‘So it seems, but wonder strikes me, disappointment for whom?’ replied Kobin. ‘Surely not you.’
‘You are a wise man, Master Guyde. It seems only the coat you wear can be pulled over your eyes at times. Perhaps it is by luck that your plans coincide with mine.’
‘Come, we must venture to a place of more privacy.’
Kobin stood and walked toward the door, failing to salute or acknowledge any of the men before leaving. Liet followed in the same manner, and it seemed none of the men had noticed their exit.
Outside, the rain had cleared and the night was maturing, nearing the early hours of morning as both men walked to find a place on top of the newly erected walls, where they could converse in solitude. Any soldiers that might have been within earshot would be far away by now, continuing the construction of the wall.
Reaching the top of the ramp, Kobin took several more paces to his left, his boots heavy on the metal grate beneath his feet. He made no attempt to hide his presence from anyone near.
‘My talks with the High Council have been long and many,’ he began, ‘their faith builds higher with each meet.’
‘I would imagine so,’ said Liet, walking to stand on Kobin’s left side, ‘but will that faith grow enough to be superior to Alkon’s word? This is the question I would like answered.’
‘A doubt to me states that you lack confidence. Have you learnt nothing of my work? Perhaps you need more proof of my ability,’ said Kobin, evil intention filling his voice as he spoke down at Liet.
‘I do not wish to feel your wrath if that is your query. I wish only to be sure that I fulfil a greater purpose than mere seizure of power.’
Kobin looked at Liet, curious as to why he had not told of this ambition before. ‘And what is this greater purpose?’
‘Revenge,’ Liet returned with a slight note of anger attached. ‘My homeland was taken from me long ago because of that blunderer’s father.’
‘Whose?’
‘The general’s.’
Kobin lifted a curious eyebrow. ‘How?’
‘Before him, his father was general, a spy, though I could not prove it. He let our enemies run an underground network for years—let them build their forces until we were at our weakest, and they attacked. I was stationed at a mi
litary camp at the time, but I saw the fruits of their work. Hundreds of buildings falling as if the earth was swallowing the entire city, power completely lost, emergency forces standing helpless as no road was left intact.
‘My father ran to save my mother that night, alone, into the black smoke without a mask. It was the last I saw of him—the last I saw of my city. They did something to the air, to the ground. To this day nothing can live there without contracting a fatal illness.’
‘I did not ask for your entire story, touching as it is,’ interrupted Kobin with a tone of anger, as if Liet’s words had been little more than common dribble, unworthy of his attention. ‘How does this justify revenge on the general, is your quarrel not with his father?’
‘They were of the same purpose. It is as much the general’s fault as it is his father’s, and for that, he will pay. Xosuh was the greatest nation of the world, centuries of the leading minds working together to build the perfect society, wasted, all because of those traitors and their allies. Do you know what it is to see such beauty destroyed, to lose your homeland, to see your people die?’
Kobin rolled his eyes slowly, shaking his head. ‘Fool!’ he shot in a mutter as he turned back to the trees ahead.
As if by the power of the word alone, Liet cringed as if a knife had just pierced his chest and his mind had begun to collapse. Suddenly he was feeling as if he were unable to breathe, as if he had fallen into the darkest of pools where all light became blurred, feelings became numbed, and sounds became muffled and slowed.
There were sounds, deep sounds. Someone was talking to him. He thought he could hear words of a sort, but none were distinguishable. He looked up at Kobin as he fell to one knee, through the swirling blends of colour that blocked his peripheral sight. Kobin was standing, unaffected by whatever had taken hold of Liet. But just as suddenly as it had come, the distortion stopped and Liet was able to stand up, using the railing as support as his body gathered its strength, almost as if nothing had happened.