The Last Cycle

by A. R. Knight

  In the dark, Sax grabs at the reason the Flaum came out of their room in the first place: stunning miners. There for this purpose; an execution gone bad and in need of aggressive pacification. The weapons are small for Sax’s claws, but he’s not shooting at range - a blast from each confirms the two Flaum, already wounded from Sax’s claws, won’t be moving any time soon.

  Kah gives himself away with a hiss and Sax twists as, with a flash, the lights power back up and on. Both Oratus stop, because both know Sax has the position, and the weapons to make this a short fight.

  “What are you waiting for?” the Amigga announces behind its glass barrier. “Kill the traitor!”

  “Are you going to shoot me, Sax?” Kah asks, spreading his claws out wide. “Defenseless?”

  “Yes,” Sax hisses, then pulls the triggers on both miners.

  Two blue bolts flash, two hit their target, and Kah crumples to the ground in frozen paralysis - even a mask won’t keep you upright at this range. With a quick step, Sax closes on the fallen Oratus and bites down, severs Kah’s right foreclaw. Sax takes it out, holds it and glances at the bloody appendage. Coorvin, the Flaum who’d managed to do some spying for Evva, said the Meridia operates on bio-scans, and Sax is betting Kah’s claw-print is going to get him where he wants to go.

  Now there’s only the lifts, which Sax backs towards, eyes on those glass doors. Have to keep watch for any attempt from the Amigga, who’s staying plenty quiet now that there’s no one else to defend it. Part of Sax wants to go in and destroy the creature, but seeing as the broadcast is still showing the middle of the floor, once occupied by Sax in his execution chair and now by Kah’s still form, the Chorus is going to know what’s happening. More guards will be coming.

  Sax isn’t going to be here when they arrive.

  7 Oath

  I walk into the center of the galaxy’s ruling organization and I can’t see anything.

  It’s black everywhere as we leave the small hallway leading in from the outer circle. Ferrolite floats in front of me until the Amigga isn’t there anymore; it just fades away into darkness. I keep walking, expecting, somehow, for everything to reveal itself. All I get is a subtle shift in the air, a wider echo of my soft steps to announce that yes, we’re in a larger space than before.

  “I, Ferrolite, bid you to welcome the newest species to our galactic collective,” Ferrolite’s voice bursts out a little ahead of me, so close that I stop moving for fear of running right into the Amigga. “The humans, from the planet previously designated Ex-Two-Five-Oh, but that, as per our new species custom, shall be henceforth renamed to their preferred title: Earth.”

  I hear what Ferrolite’s saying as the Amigga continues through a long-winded version of our discovery in the war against the Sevora. Ferrolite seems to be speaking to an audience, but as I cast my eyes around, there’s nothing but darkness. Either this is a trick, or the Chorus doesn’t need light to do its business.

  “What’s going on?” Malo whispers to me. “Can you see anything?”

  I start to shake my head, then realize Malo wouldn’t see that either. “No, it’s all dark.”

  “Maybe the Amigga don’t need light?” Viera offers. “They don’t have eyes, right?”

  Viera’s comment makes me realize the Chorus could be watching us right now, laughing as we spin around and search for light that isn’t there. Demonstrating the full competence of our species by twirling like idiots in front of our new leaders.

  “I can see everything fine,” T’Oli patters. “What are you talking about?”

  I’m about to answer T’Oli when I notice Ferrolite’s gone silent and the Ooblot’s last words hang in the still air of the room.

  “Is there a problem, Kaishi?” Ferrolite asks me.

  “We can’t see,” I reply. “Everything’s black.”

  There’s a beat as everyone internalizes what I’ve just said and comes up with a solution, then a half-dozen tuned, mechanical voices blurt out various phrases like ‘spectrum’ and ‘light waves’, ending with one louder, sharper voice, like a bronzed blade cutting off everything else.

  “Salcite, adjust the room light to mid-wave,” the voice says. “These creatures are sensitive.”

  Like Ignos bringing dawn to a new day, the room arises from nothing. Shapes begin to mold out of the dark; a long interior wall surrounding the central platform where we stand, with dividing walls separating out the sections Ferrolite described in our tour. Each section is different, presumably reflecting the passions of the owning Amigga, and I see everything from glowing terminals to hanging beasts, to a swarm of gibbering Flaum surrounding an Amigga resting on a floating dais, like a Charre Emperor of old. Two of the twelve sections are populated by hazy projections, like the ghost we saw back on Earth, with teal-colored blobs floating in space.

  Unlike the ring surrounding the Chorus’ chamber, there’s not much here outside of the sections themselves. No fancy artwork, no homages to the galaxy’s planets. Only a flat, unadorned space for us and a series of set lights in the ceiling casting a deep red across the entire room, so that it seems like everyone’s drenched in a bloody wash.

  “You can see now, yes?” the same voice asks.

  “We can,” I’m about to add ‘sort of’, but something in that voice tells me now isn’t the time to get picky. “Thank you.”

  “Then, if I can continue?” Ferrolite interjects. “As I was saying, we were over Vimelia, and I was helping Kolas devise the plan to use the planet’s own moon to crush—”

  A short blast of static cuts off the Amigga, like the blaring of a rude horn. I try to find the source, but can’t locate it before the voice that had been commanding others speaks again.

  “Ferrolite, your briefing and its due accolades will come later. There are other urgent issues that we must attend to. I motion to begin the Oath of Joining at this moment, so we may deal with other matters,” the voice says, and while I get that it’s asking the others for their input, the tone suggests there’s no option except the one it wants.

  “First Chair,” Ferrolite starts, but its words are washed out by another burst of static.

  One by one, globes as large as my head, attached to the fronts of the Amigga sections, pop into light shades of green. They blink to life until the entire circle fills in - a unanimous verdict. Ferrolite takes a slow turn at the lights, then floats back by me, towards the way we came in and hovers there on the fringes.

  I’m thankful Malo and Viera are right behind me, that T’Oli still rests on my shoulders, otherwise I might get a little nervous standing in the center, the focus of all that alien attention.

  “Are you ready to begin?” the voice booms.

  An invisible weight lands on me as the Amigga speaks the words. The same weight I felt when I stood atop my tribe’s Tier, Ignos in my head telling me what to say. The same weight I felt in the moments before we left Sax and Bas on Cobalt to strike out on our own; this is a step I can’t take back.

  Unlike those moments, here I’m in a wide room, red and dark, surrounded by creatures I don’t know and don’t understand. The consequences of what I’m about to do are hazy, with glittering benefits from endless miracles tainted with the fog of everything I’ve ever seen the Amigga do.

  So I hesitate. And ask.

  “I am ready, but first, I want to know,” I say, each word pressing up against the last and then tumbling out together. “Ferrolite has promised humanity your help: cures for disease, technology that will make our lives less dangerous and more fulfilled, and protection from invasions like the Sevora one we just survived.”

  “All of that you will receive,” the First Chair replies. “With plenty more still. Remember, it was under our order that the Vincere came and saved your species. It was under our order that the Sevora were destroyed.”

  I feel Malo step up next to me. His face is set straight, sturdy. He doesn’t put a hand on my shoulder, but I feel the support all the same. “You didn’t defeat the Sevora. Ka
ishi did. We did. You owe her, and the rest of humanity, the thanks you’re awarding yourself.”

  Malo’s charge sucks the air from the room. I wonder if the Chorus has ever been rebuked to its face, here in this chamber, before. They may decide to kill us here and now. Find a new, less confident ambassador from our species.

  “Human,” the voice booms. “I am the First Chair. Leader of the Chorus, the twelve Amigga responsible for the trillions of lives in this galaxy. Including, whether you wish it or not, your own. In this chamber, you will understand the measure of your minimal part to our massive one and speak accordingly.”

  A pause. I shake my head, knowing Viera’s opening her mouth behind me, about to announce some retort that’ll get us all killed. Somehow, it works. My hot-blooded friend stays quiet. My cold one does too - Malo manages to stew in the words, his Charre stoicism letting him store the moment for later.

  “Yet,” the First Chair continues. “You’re correct in pointing out your own species’ efforts. Your individual ones as well. The Chorus does recognize the help you have provided to the galaxy, human, which is why you are standing here now. Your species will receive all that we’ve claimed, and we will gladly give it. If that answer satisfies you, Kaishi, ambassador to the Chorus, we would hear your oath.”

  A glance shows Malo’s not mollified by the words, but he does give me the slightest of nods. His arguments are done. A look back at Viera earns a shrug and little else - the Lunare glides through life, taking what comes her way and this is no different. T’Oli, on my shoulders, gives me a pair of taps as if to say steady, then hardens into a sturdy blanket. Comfort for the moment I give my species’ independence away.

  “I’m ready. Tell me what to say.”

  I’m falling. That’s what it feels like. I’m leaping and now I’m off, riding out the descent in all its scary numbness until I hit the ground.

  “First, your associates must back away to the edge of the room,” the First Chair says. “In this oath, you are the whole of your species, both yourself and every single one of them. This includes the creature on your shoulders.”

  Malo provides an arm for T’Oli to clamber onto, and then the warrior wraps me in a tight hold.

  “I believe in you.” Malo whispers, and he’s gone before I have a chance to say anything back.

  And then I’m alone, standing center in that ring.

  “The Oath you are about to speak has been taken by dozens before you,” the First Chair says, and while its voice comes through the grainy filter of a speaker rather than a mouth, the words carry a cadence that suggests the beginning of a ceremony. “It will be taken by dozens after. You will repeat the words as they are spoken, in the manner best suited to your species. Your responses will be recorded and, upon conclusion of the Oath, will be sent to every corner of the galaxy, so all will know of your commitment, and all will know of your reward.”

  In the gaping pause I wonder if I should respond, when the red lighting in the chamber fades away except for two halos, one around me and the other around the Amigga that must be the First Chair. It’s larger than Dalachite, the Amigga that ran Cobalt, but lacks that one’s endless fronds linking Dalachite to its chosen home. The First Chair floats like Ferrolite, but instead of a transparent shell, rings encircle its body. They rotate around each other, with the Amigga at the center, the rings swirling over, under, and around. Their motion or something about them keeps the First Chair aloft, and while the Amigga has no eyes I can see, I feel its stare.

  “State your name, and your species.”

  In the dark, the First Chair’s words come from all around me, loud. As if I’m being spoken to by a god.

  “My name is Kaishi, and I am a human.” I pause. “From Earth.”

  There’s nowhere to look except the First Chair and its rings, so that’s where I stare.

  “I, Kaishi, submit myself and my species, the humans, to the service of a better universe,” the First Chair begins.

  The reply comes out of my mouth, automatic. The words are numbing. Necessary. A private conversation, a dance between me and this strange creature. Even as I speak, though, I drift.

  Back to the top of the Tier, with my father beside me and our tribe watching from below the Tier’s rocky steps. Ignos falling away in the sky and yet speaking words in my mind, bidding me to unite my father’s people to its will. Desperate and afraid, I cling to the Sevora’s words as the only rope that can pull me to safety from my own mistakes, and my hands grip the black-glass knife, knowing what’s expected of its glistening edge.

  Every word I speak is for my species, every sentence binding us to the Chorus and its direction.

  I’m back on Cobalt, standing on the platform while Dalachite’s tests poke and prod at me, twist my eyes and toy with my senses. I am nothing more than a trial, a subject to be examined and explored even while, moments ago, others called me Empress from obedient lips. Alone, I lean on myself, fill the void between hot and cold, piercing pain and chilling metal touches with determination, the will to make it through.

  The will of the Chorus is my will, its belief is my belief, and its dreams are my dreams.

  In the caverns beneath Vimelia, I walk between ruined peoples, aliens I don’t recognize doing what I’m doing: surviving. Next to me is an old Amigga, lamenting how its greatest loss is that it will, now, die. That dying, itself, could be a choice is beyond anything I have ever considered. Not a soul in my tribe, among my friends, thinks immortality is possible, but for this one, it is practical. Yet as it bemoans paying the highest price, I look at those around me and see so much life, so much spirit where there ought not to be any. Basking in the life they have, however fragile and imperfect.

  Every effort we make, every action we take, will serve the Chorus’ desires, and in doing so, our own.

  Marilo bustles by me, both my people and not working together to repair damaged buildings, to forge new weapons or climb the ladders to the cliffs to defend our last city against an enemy we can’t defeat. There are grim faces all around, and terror’s icy grip ought to have hold of everyone, but I see no fear in our eyes. A call goes round for wine, another for bread, and scraps are given where they can to keep the city going. To keep our hope alive.

  For with this oath, we become partners in a grand design, and forevermore pledge ourselves to progress.

  Malo, Ignos stands over me in the shimmering gold light of the room in the seed ship, and the only thing holding back the Sevora’s spear from a mortal strike is the last, desperate effort of my most trusted friend, who I thought I’d lost. Malo had been taken for days, torn apart and turned against his will into a tool. One used for the opposite of Malo’s own purpose; his driving love of his people. Malo fought against the impossible, and in daring to try, succeeded.

  “We serve the Chorus. Now, and forever, with bonds unbroken,” the First Chair concludes.

  I take a breath. A long one, and feel the slow slip of air into my body. This is it. With some simple words I’ll fulfill a bargain that will deliver my people from their hardships, and all I’m giving up in exchange is our freedom. What a small price to pay for the Chorus’ miracles.

  Father, Mother, I hope you would be proud.

  “Finish the oath,” the First Chair prods.

  I seek out the Amigga and level my eyes at the creature and its weaving metal bands. Open my mouth. As I say the first word, everything blinks white, a loud tone crashes over my speech, and before I can consider the rest of it, a half-dozen blurred, mirrored Oratus are standing in the center circle around me. They’re not looking my way, though, but towards their leader.

  “First Chair,” the one nearest the Chorus leader hisses. “An enemy force is attempting to breach the Meridia, and we believe one or more of them is loose inside the tower.”

  I look back at Malo and Viera, but all I see on their faces is confusion. Nothing to do with us, then. Ferrolite hovers at the entrance, its expressionless body unreadable. T’Oli, though, makes one
move, breaking free to slither to me, wrapping itself around my chest and shoulders and drawing a warning hiss from one of the Oratus in the process.

  “Activate insurgency protocol,” the First Chair says. “The Chorus will evacuate as a precaution.” When the First Chair finishes the words, activity bursts around me. The mirrored Oratus leap into various sections where Amigga are floating around, pushing them and their Flaum and Whelk attendants out through their exits. The couple of Amigga appearing as images blink from existence without a sound. “Humans,” the First Chair continues. “Unfortunately, this ceremony and its subsequent discussions must be postponed. Ferrolite will show you to a safe chamber where you can await our call to resume.”

  “We didn’t finish?” I say more to myself than anyone else, even as Malo waves for me to join them over by Ferrolite’s floating form.

  “You never said the last line,” T’Oli replies. “Right now, humans will still get nothing from the Chorus. Congratulations!”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Most of my life, I was kept under the Sevora’s rule. I wouldn’t give up my freedom again for anything.”

  T’Oli’s pattering isn’t easy to make out over the clacks of Oratus talons, the buzzing of words and hisses, and my own pounding heart as it tries to calm down from the oath, but I get what the Ooblot’s trying to say. Taken as a cold calculation, giving humanity to the Chorus would mean an endless bounty of benefits, but it would also mean giving ourselves the same treatment as the Flaum sent scurrying around me, as the Oratus ordered to guard this and that level, the Whelk commanded to ready shuttles for evacuation, and the Vyphen, not even present - disposed of and forgotten. Which role would we assume?