Balance of Power: The Blackened Prophecy Book 2

by Oganalp Canatan

  The elevator itself is nowhere in sight, Rebecca realized. The bridge’s connection to the rest of the ship looked more like a moist cave entrance, lush with flora. Whatever Vengeance’s creatures were spilling, it was slowly taking Deviator over, turning it into a flying habitat of a freak show. The branches moved, and a familiar face appeared from inside the elevator doorway.

  “Would be happy if you could put me down.”

  “Mr. Stefanu,” Rebecca whispered, smiling as the branches released the protesting Delta Force commando, putting him down rather hard.

  “That’s better, although still parsecs away from being in compliance with the proper conduct with prisoners—Ouch!”

  “I am not interested in your petty human rules.” Vengeance lowered her hand, her skin absorbing the splattered blood from Stefanu’s mouth. “My minions have told me you have information that you wanted to share.”

  “Well, they didn’t ask per se. Unless,” Stefanu smiled, revealing his bloodied teeth, “you count drilling one’s head with a spike as a parlay.” His smile faded, and he opened his arms in defeat as Vengeance took a threatening step forward. “Easy, easy!” He wiped the blood away slowly. “I lied. I don’t have anything. I just need to be at my admiral’s side.”

  If Vengeance was angry at what Stefanu was pulling off, and Rebecca was sure there was a reason for her naming convention, the infested creature didn’t show it. One of the mantis guards pushed him toward the gathered prisoners, causing the mercenary to stumble hard onto some poor lieutenant.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Rebecca hissed. “I do not need dead officers, Mr. Stefanu!”

  The mercenary shrugged. “I needed to see you. Had to fool the things to come here.” He pointed his head, grinning. “It helps to have Delta training. Mind conditioning’s a trait when being tortured.” He leaned closer. “This creep or whatever it is,” he threw a disgusted look at the chitin infestation, “it’s everywhere. The branches, however, are only at key places. It’s as if the vines are responsible for controlling the ship.”

  “The engines?” Rebecca grimaced at the thought of her ship turned into a xeno-zoo.

  “Gone. Completely infested. The hangar doors, the reactor core. Before they captured my team, we were able to move around in some of the key spots. Your girl with anger issues knows this ship inside out, it seems.”

  Rebecca nodded lightly, accepting defeat. There was no way to take back the ship from Vengeance, and even if they did, she wasn’t sure Deviator would fly anywhere. The explosion from arxenon should have killed them all, but somehow the ship was still in one piece.

  Stefanu started again as if he understood her concerns. “This ship’s gone beyond repair, ma’am. As for my vegetable ride,” the mercenary looked at the creepy elevator and made a shivering gesture, “well, as that living tree moved me, I checked the place out.” He knocked at the chitin floor and, as if responding, it trembled where he hit. “This crust is everywhere. I’m guessing that’s what kept your old husk together as well.”

  “Disgusting does not give it justice.”

  “Yeah, well, disgusting or not, this thing is what keeps this ship afloat. I don’t know how our guests survived the explosion, but we most certainly didn’t.”

  Rebecca nodded, leaning toward Ga’an, who listened to the whole exchange in eerie silence, his eyes never losing focus on Vengeance. “I still think we can activate the self-destruct, Admiral Conway,” he said finally.

  “I presume you want us all to commit suicide?” Stefanu whispered, keeping an eye on the nearest mantis guard, as the towering creature made its round, slowly circling the prisoners.

  “It is a glorious death.”

  “Yeah, it’s death still. What’s your say, Admiral?”

  “I do not know where we are going, but I will not blow up this ship before I get the chance to abandon the crew.”

  “Tarra.”

  “What?” Rebecca tilted her head. “Lieutenant Belins?”

  “Tarra, we are going to Tarra.”

  “Explain, Mr. Belins.”

  “I was about to come to you when the explosion happened. Officer Pushkin had caught a deep-space signal; the identification code said it was Fox. We could only skim the message body, but I am sure the coordinates were Bunari’s. Specifically, the moon Tarra.”

  “What happened to Pushkin?”

  “She pulled her sidearm to fire at the alien woman, Admiral Conway.” Ga’an’s face was a mask of indifference, but Rebecca had the chance to know her alien first officer better through the past year. She clearly saw the flickering in his eyes. Ga’an was fond of Lieutenant Pushkin in a professional way, and like Rebecca, he was not good with the idea of losing soldiers.

  Rebecca nodded, sending a silent prayer for the poor woman’s soul. “So, we are headed to Tarra? At least it brings us closer to home.”

  “It may also be our salvation, Admiral Conway.”

  “Mr. Ga’an?”

  “If the Lohil is on Tarra and if this ship pursues him, then his powers may very well save us.”

  “Or kill us if this Raymond Harris is as powerful as you people think,” Stefanu shrugged.

  “We have to think the real mark is painted on Mr. Harris’s back. Mr. Stefanu, I cannot see any opportunities present at the moment, but things may change when we reach Tarra. Keep your eyes open for a gap and break free. Find marines, find weapons, and fight your way out of this ship with as many people as you can.”

  “What about you, Admiral?”

  “If you can evacuate the ship, I am inclined to consider Mr. Ga’an’s explosive idea.”

  “No heroic poems after this, Admiral. Be wise about it.”

  Rebecca smiled, and Stefanu gave a curt nod.

  The ship rattled, interrupting their whispering, and Rebecca felt the stretching, strange feeling of executing a jump. It was a comfortable shake, she had to admit, especially after the arxenon blast, but it didn’t help her broken ribs.

  “My teeth are chattering.” Stefanu leaned forward to see Lieutenant Belins. “Is this normal?”

  “It is with jump gates and bad stabilizers.”

  “I’ve been through jump gates. I don’t remember rattling this much.”

  “Was it a damaged superdreadnought of this size?”

  “Fair point.”

  Vengeance walked toward them, stopping in front of Rebecca. “We will now orbit this place you call Tarra.” She weighed the name. “You will all be carried to the surface and await the judgment of the Creators.”

  “Why Tarra?” Rebecca asked.

  “Because it is where the Lohil will be broken and destroyed. You will witness your downfall and suffer. Then, you will become part of my swarm.”

  “Yak yak yak.” Stefanu faked a sigh. “Enough with the bad gal talk, sister.”

  Vengeance’s eyes glowed bright red, and Rebecca swore she saw flames in that stare, but the creature’s voice was calm, eerily calm. “I will need a puppet to satisfy my needs. Perhaps you will be that puppet, human.” Her face suddenly popped out into four pieces, peeling off, and it opened like the mouth of a long-forgotten, mythical sea monster, revealing sharp, deadly teeth and a black tongue wriggling inside, its tentacles moving in a grotesque harmony.

  “Holy hand of Hannah!” Stefanu pushed himself back clumsily, turning his face away from the gruesome monster.

  “Stop this,” Rebecca yelled. “We will comply. Just stop it!”

  Vengeance hissed, and in less than a second, her face was “normal”—an ageless nurse Erika with red eyes and a face covered in tiny scales. The infested woman clicked like a beetle, and the mantis guards came forward, rising above the prisoners.

  “Now, we go down to the planet, humans.”

  THE STEPS OF AMASSHAN

  The tingling sensation was of no concern to Ray. He might have been surprised if not for the prophecy or his powers. He would have been shocked to see alien structures hanging between different universes inside a
n unbreakable void beyond any known space if it wasn’t his fate to alter the course of time and history. Ray was focused. Curious, maybe, but focused nonetheless.

  The experience of passing through a rift was less than interesting for him anyway. A long blackness; then they stood at the doorstep of a huge temple. Ray had to admit the structure was huge. Statues flanked the entrance, and although the forms, the beings they showcased, and the whole setup felt alien, there was something familiar Ray couldn’t pinpoint.

  “This is the Temple of Amasshan.”

  Ray whistled. “Lots of stones.” The structure went infinitely upward, disappearing in the darkness of nothingness. “Looks like lots of wasted energy to me.”

  “The Architects are ambitious in their designs, Lohil.” If Ray was sarcastic about the whole experience, Sim’Ra was simply disgusted. “They create and exploit lives in their limited understanding of evolution. Their royal attitude is fake. They simply steal from truly evolved species and act as if the values are their own. It is thievery. Just like this temple.”

  “Did I sense a belief in a higher power there, Sim’Ra?”

  The Baeal smiled. “My beliefs and disbeliefs do not blind my judgment of the true universe, Lohil. I refuse to worship an unknown on a golden pedestal. However, I also realize the equilibrium that exceeds any simple mind’s comprehension of harmony.”

  “Wow, an agnostic.”

  Sim’Ra smirked. “This way, Lohil.”

  They climbed the temple stairs with purpose, passing by the huge statues showcasing alien life forms of unknown origins saluting them. Or watching them, Ray winced. Since he had learned of the interference of this so-called Ambassador who pulled Ray into this mess back on Bunari, his perspective on statues, Architect statues, in particular, was skeptical. “Did you know any of these creatures?”

  “Some.” Sim’Ra nodded at a statue of a three-legged alien to their right. The form resembled a Doberman, missing a leg. The creature’s chest was muscular, and its face aggressive. Frenzied, even. “That was a race cultivated and elevated by the Architects in their grand design. Their evolution had been hastened, and it produced these savage, destructive abominations.”

  “Then they destroyed them?”

  “No.” Sim’Ra stiffened. “They sent the creatures in hordes to our world, and my people had to cleanse them. The struggle was bloody, but we endured.”

  Ray turned and found himself surprised. The rift they had passed through was only a few meters high and large enough to pass four or five people side by side. On this end, however, it was huge, swirling lazily, muddying the dark itself. Several superdreadnoughts like Deviator could pass through it without a sweat. These guys have a size problem. Or an ego. Or both.

  The stone walls were ancient. Ray was no archaeologist, but he felt the stones' age as he touched the nearest wall. Images of times he never witnessed flashed in his mind, and he stumbled. “Wow. That was intense.”

  “The stones are reacting to your touch. You may have only lived for a fraction of time, but your genes carry the touch of Arinar and their creators.”

  “I thought the Arinar didn’t work here.”

  “Their powers are limited. Locked, if you will. The temple itself touched your mind. Amasshan was one of the first Architects. He was the one who escalated his race to the top of the gene pyramid.”

  “Did he build the temple and the stones?”

  “No. Amasshan simply learned how to exploit the stones.”

  “I take it from your voice that you’re not fond of the guy.”

  Sim’Ra slowly turned to level with Ray’s stare. “His sick mind created this domination game eons ago. His god-complex created the Devourer, created you, us and all.”

  “If you had the same power, would you not want to control things?”

  Sim’Ra only smirked.

  Ray shrugged. As he came to peace with his powers, he took things differently. They were a curse to some extent, sure, but they were also a blessing and an opportunity to fix things. With power, he could be flexible in his approach to the events unfolding around him. “The Architects, did they really create us all? Your race, mine?”

  “Not exactly.” Sim’Ra’s footsteps echoed in the gigantic corridor as he took the lead. “In the ecosystem in which Baeal first appeared, their touch was non-existent. However, there is a leap of evolution in many of the races they touch. When they found my race, they intervened with our evolution and hastened our progress to grow us. To shape us into the beings they needed to harvest to enhance their own evolutionary process. They did the same with humans, with the Nucteel and all the other races they could reach.”

  “Why do they do this?”

  “The Architects are a dying race. From what I gathered in my time alive, through my struggle, I came to learn their race cannot propagate enough to sustain their continuity.”

  “But we’re talking about eons. They survived this long.”

  Sim’Ra smiled, but it was impossible to tell if it was with amusement or mockery. Perhaps both. “You still perceive time as a linear thing. Think of the human race coming to its end in, say, a few centuries.”

  “All this fuss because some aliens can’t have sex. Swell.”

  If Sim’Ra got the joke, it didn’t amuse him. His face was a wall, and he focused on his walking. “The audience hall is ahead.” He pointed at a huge door, ajar, light leaking through the opening.

  “What’s behind that door?”

  “This is an audience chamber. Planar creatures come here to talk with the Architects. To plea and to be refused by their masters’ ego.”

  “I take it you’ve been here before.”

  “Yes.”

  Ray licked his lips. “You plead?”

  Sim’Ra stopped and turned slowly to face Ray one more time. His face was threateningly serene, and Ray saw thoughts of murder in those black eyes. The mask, however, barely flickered. “I watched my father beg.”

  “I take it that wasn’t what you had in mind.” Ray took a deep breath, relaxing. He hadn’t realized he was tensed, but sweat ran down his back when Ray remembered he was blocked from reaching the stones, even though they were in his backpack. If Sim’Ra wanted to, he could crush his bones there and then.

  “It was disgusting, human. If it was not for the Devourer, we would have crushed the Architects and severed the chains by which they had bound every species living within their reach.”

  “But they had Her.”

  “Yes.” The Baeal prince resumed walking. They were close now, but it took an awful lot of time to reach the hall due to the unnecessary size of things. “They like to show their towering strength, Lohil,” Sim’Ra said as if he read Ray’s mind.

  “Well, it certainly kills the excitement and turns this into a dull experience. Tell me,” Ray scratched his beard, which was now at least five fingers long, “what do you expect to achieve here? I’ve no power here. The Devourer, if she’s here, will probably be rendered helpless as well. She’s having a mental breakdown for Her fathers’ sins. You can kill us both and run the universe yourself.”

  Sim’Ra laughed, and Ray thought it was a first. His deep, layered voice was eerie, but it never felt this creepy before. “I am not a fool, Lohil. Neither you nor the Devourer in her fragile human form is a match for me without your powers. But I am one Baeal, and without your powers, I cannot complete my quest to overthrow the oppressors. A quest you and I share as their intervention destroyed our very lives.”

  “So, you want us as tools. Playing us in your schemes.”

  “It may be our schemes, Lohil. You are yet to comprehend the extent of your destiny.”

  “Fair enough.” Ray could now see the audience hall from the crack of the door. They still had a hundred meters or so to reach it. They had walked at least a few kilometers, and Ray realized his legs were tired. It surprised him. He hadn’t noticed before. He never felt physically tired when he was in touch with the stones, especially since his bond had tighten
ed. Yes, he felt the need to sleep, eat, and relax yet, but never a muscle ache.

  “We will meet with the Devourer. Render Her useless and disable the Architects’ greatest war machine.”

  “What will stop them from killing me?”

  Sim’Ra smiled. “I will.”

  “You’ve got everything figured, don’t you?”

  “I had a long time to meditate on my vengeance, Lohil.”

  They were finally at the doors and passed through. Ray was still having issues coping with the temple's size, and the doors were not helping him put his mind to ease. He realized it was probably possible to fit a dreadnought through the door with some precision maneuvers.

  “Man, what do these people host here? Dinosaurs?” If he had found the temple entrance bland and boring, the audience hall surprised and boggled Ray. A pedestal stood in the center. It was impossible to see the back of the chamber or the walls but the one with the door they had come through. The wall behind him had carved images of creatures bowing before the Architects and shapes of unknown origin, covering it to the end of his range of vision. Writings, Ray realized. He had no clue about the language, but they were aligned in an orderly fashion, repeating shapes here and there, a pale glow accompanying them.

  His interest in the walls died fast, though, as the beings before him were the true focus of things. Before him, the Devourer was hanging in the air, a meter above the ground, caged inside a shimmering force field. She was silent, but her mouth tightened, and her eyes squeezed shut. She was in agony. Ray turned his attention to the pedestal, where two beings watched the Devourer suffer torture with emotionless stares.

  They were Baeal at first glance. At least their upper bodies were Baeal. Mostly Baeal. They had hair, unlike all the Baeal Ray had seen through this last year and a half, and their pointy ears were not connected to their skulls from the tips. Their faces were somewhat readable, unlike Sim’Ra’s, and the skin was a tad lighter than the prince. The eyes were colored like human eyes but free from emotion and crystalline—a perfect camouflage to cover emotions. In Ray’s book, facial expressions could show false fervor, but not the eyes. For humans, at least. They wore strange necklaces on their bare bodies. Ray didn’t have to be a cranial expert to see the resemblance their faces had to the Ambassador creature who had visited him in his cell in Bunari. Their legs were like spiders, four of them instead of eight, and they looked mechanical. Although the parts didn’t remind Ray of anything human, they were metal, and they were robotic parts—that much he could make out.