Omnigalactic

by Christopher Conner

  When I took a step to follow him through, a glaring, red eye flashed at me. I tripped and crashed to the hard steel floor; no doubt, bruising my knees in the process. Yan'nu and Ampat helped me back to my feet.

  “You felt it, too,” Yan'nu said. “Guard yourself, Tresedi.”

  I shook my head. “It was nothing. Let's keep moving.”

  “Pray for the Eye,” he whispered.

  “What'd you just say?”

  Yan'nu walked away, ignoring my question. It had been strange, hearing him say that. I felt like I’d heard it before, in another time, or another life. A beach somewhere, with sand, and the salty brine of the ocean breeze. There came another vision, too. A vague, cloudy image of an Anuran, wearing a stupid, Human bomber jacket. He was yelling my name, tears welling in his eyes. Who was he?

  I blinked away the images and urged the others on.

  The soles of our envirosuits clanked softly against the floor as we pressed further into the compound, slithering through like silent, creeping animals. We passed through narrow, unintended corridors between rows and rows of towering blocks, which I could only guess were the AI's synthetic neural network. Soon enough, we'd find the AI mainframe, or central processor, or whatever the tech experts called it. Ampat would upload the virus and destroy it. The Icto would have to give up the war, surrender the Icto Gate, and cease any further attempts to wrench Interspace control from our Wyn masters.

  At last, we reached another set of doors. The Golian knelt on his two twiggy legs, peering through his scope behind us.

  Ampat looked down at his techpad. “If the schematics are correct, the AI core should be just behind these doors. It'll take me a bit, but I can get us in.”

  “Then get to it,” I said. “Let's hope the intel was correct.”

  With one hand, Yan'nu clutched his head, and he placed the other on the door. That creepy, third eye glimmered. “Yes. It is as the Elder foresaw, and as I have sensed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “An enemy we have fought for aeons. The true enemy.”

  “Enough with the mystic nonsense. Give it to us straight.”

  Ampat gestured in quiet celebration. “We're in.”

  The doors slid open with a hiss. Objective Three complete.

  Below us, down a steep ramp, was a floating orb, no larger than a melon. A sickly green light emanated from it, casting its glow on the walls and floors around us. Beneath it was a simple console. But behind it was something none of us expected to see - a structure, triangular in shape, spinning and spinning, until the center revealed the white and black of Interspace.

  I stood as still as a statue, mouth hanging loose. “It's a…”

  “The Elder was correct,” Yan'nu said. “The Icto have constructed not one, but two Gates of their own. They tamper with a power they do not understand.”

  “They understand it enough to have built it,” Ampat said. “Don't you think?”

  “Emulating something does not equate to understanding it. It is merely a slipshod copy. We must destroy it, along with the AI. Celyrian, begin your task. Tresedi, do you have sufficient explosives?”

  I nodded. “I have two disintegrator bombs. Is that sufficient enough for you?”

  Yan'nu stayed silent, as if considering it. “That will have to do.”

  I trotted down the ramp, past the glowing orb. To think that millions of lives had been lost due to a little piece of machinery. All because the Wyn didn't like their subjects figuring out how the Gates worked. The end of the war couldn't come soon enough.

  I knelt next to the swirling Icto Gate, priming the disintegrators to go off remotely. Once we were out of the compound, I'd flip a simple switch, and boom. No more Icto Gate. At least, I hoped there'd be nothing salvageable left.

  As I stood up again, the red eye screamed at me once more. Thick tendrils wrapped around my arms and legs, dragging me down. My knees struck the sturdy, metal floors. I tried to shout for help, but another tendril squirmed around my neck, squeezing my throat with a vice-like grip. The eye laughed at me, at my desperate attempts to rip myself free.

  “Jord!” a voice called for me. “Look away!”

  The Anuran ran toward me, his arms reaching out. Although I didn't know who he was, I reached out to him, hoping he'd help somehow. Our hands touched, and my vision returned in a flash of white.

  The disintegrators remained at my feet. I looked around. Ampat was at the console with Yan'nu hunched over him. The Golian stood watch at the entrance.

  I’d had another vision. Was I going insane? “C'mon, Pirt,” I murmured to myself. “Can't lose your head now.”

  I rejoined the others just as Ampat reported in. “Another three minutes, and the AI will be completely wiped.”

  “And I assume the explosives are set?” Yan'nu asked. His third eye appeared, as if it were scanning my soul or life essence.

  “Yes, Lord Yan'nu.”

  “Excellent. You have done well, my—”

  With a thwack, something struck Yan'nu's bony torso. Emerald-green blood sprayed onto my envirosuit and visor. Frantically, I tried to wipe it clear enough to see. Yan’nu clutched his chest and sank to the floor. Ampat cursed as the Golian returned fire down the corridor. I urged Ampat to finish the job. We’d hold them off long enough.

  Down the corridor were five or so Icto mechs, firing their arm-mounted, heavy blasters, taking care not to hit their precious, glowing orb. I dove to the floor and sprayed beautiful, red death back at them, my plasma cannon chugging with each round.

  I felt a tug at my leg and glanced back. Yan'nu was still alive, but barely. With grasping hands, he slid himself closer. He spoke softly into my ear. I couldn't hear anything over the gunfire. But, he continued to crawl toward me, a pool of green forming around him. He grasped my shoulder, and with his dying breath, he said, “Pray for the Eye.” His grip loosening, he slumped to the floor, lifeless.

  Ampat yelped as two rounds struck his legs. His envirosuit started to hiss and depressurize. If he didn't get that sealed, he would undoubtedly suffocate.

  “How's it coming?” I asked, destroying two of the mechs. Another was taken down swiftly by the Golian.

  “Another minute!” he grunted between cries of pain. “My suit is compromised, Jord! I'm not going to make it!”

  “You will! Just do your job, and I'll get you out of here!”

  That minute stretched and dilated to what felt like fifteen. The Golian and I destroyed the last two mechs. Behind us, the floating orb drifted slowly toward the floor, its green aura fading as it fell. It crackled and whirred in defiance, like it couldn't give up its short spark of life. Then, finally, it glowed no more, like a single candle in a dark, empty room, snuffed out by the breeze from an open window.

  I rose from the floor to check on Ampat. “You did it, little guy! You did it!”

  But there was no response. Beneath his visor, his mouth hung open. His giant, black eyes were clouded, lifeless. He was the true hero as he gasped for that last breath just before the end. I don't know why, but seeing Ampat's face like that made me sick to my core. Even after watching hundreds — no, thousands — die over the four decades of my career, I'd never been rattled before. Now, I couldn't move. I didn't want to move. I could only look at his dead eyes.

  The Golian slapped my arm and signed: Still time. Must go now.

  “You're right,” I said. “Let's get out of here before more show up. Hey, Martin, we did it. The AI's been neutralized.”

  With all I had in me, I raced through the maze of the dead AI's neural network. Just when we reached the exit, another team of mechs fired on us — although, this time, they didn't have to be careful. Blaster rounds seared holes into the metal between us, one nicking my suit. The intense heat of the Icto homeworld seeped into my suit, slowly cooking me alive. But, I kept running. I had to. Just the thought of turning around to fire back would sign my death certificate.

  There
was one last chance for survival. I detonated the bombs. I couldn't see, but I could hear the compound rapidly disappearing with the sound of gnashing teeth. Our pursuers must've been swallowed up, as well. The blaster fire ceased.

  We dashed through the turret array, still disabled from earlier, and through the long, craggy terrain leading to the landing zone. The heat intensified, blazing hot, hotter than any summer day on Hanza. We were so close, just over the ridge.

  Our ship descended from the lightning-filled skies, kicking up thick clouds of dust. “Just in time, boys,” Commander Martin's voice crackled. “Where're the others?”

  “Dead! Now, get us out of here!”

  We leapt up the boarding ramp as it closed behind us. I crashed to the floor as Commander Martin sent our ship screaming into the atmosphere, the sheer force of gravity crushing me into the cabin floor. I ripped off my helmet, breathing the cool, crisp air.

  The Golian followed suit and signed: Close. Very close.

  I gave him a thumbs-up. His shoulders and torso shook with silent laughter.

  Another few minutes later, and we had rejoined the last of the fleet, who had ceased bombing the surface of Icto II. No doubt, they were beginning their retreat. The Golian and I joined Commander Martin in the cockpit. Her long bangs bounced as she blew a huge breath of relief.

  “I can't say I've ever shit my pants on a mission before,” she said. “But, I came pretty close back there.”

  Normally, a joke like that would've made me laugh. Instead, I remained silent, just watching the fleet through the viewing port.

  “I'm sorry about Ampat,” she said. “You two seemed kind of close.”

  “Just get us out of here. About time this damn war is over.”

  “THE WAR HAS ONLY BEGUN.”

  I jumped. “What was that?”

  “I didn't hear anything,” Commander Martin said. “Why don't you lay down and rest? You've been through a lot, Pirt. We all have.”

  “Yeah, you're right.”

  I stepped around the Golian and returned to the cabin, resting my head on the hull. Just before I could close my eyes, the ship rumbled. I leapt back to my feet, ready to head for the escape pod, in the event that the ship was sawed in half by Icto lasers. The ship rumbled longer and louder. Red light pierced through the viewing ports, creating a crimson tinge on the cabin walls.

  “What is happening?” I asked anyone who'd answer.

  “YOU ARE MINE NOW, MORTAL. SOON, YOU WILL ALL BE MINE.”

  My eyes searched the room for the source of the sinister voice. “Where the hell are you? Who are you?”

  “I AM OBLIVION. ALL WHO HAVE FACED ME NOW RESIDE HERE. THEIR MINDS ARE ETERNALLY DAMNED TO TWIST AND ROT. YOU ARE A BABE AMONGST SLATHERING BEASTS.”

  “What is this? Some kind of dream?”

  “IN TIME, YOURS SHALL FADE. YOU WILL BE NAUGHT BUT A HOLLOW SHELL. AN EMPTY VESSEL.”

  “No, this isn't real!” I slammed against the hull. If it was a dream, I could float away into space. That thing, whatever it was, couldn't get me. Then, I'd wake up, back on Harland. Melville. Sai. Sai!

  “Sai!”

  The creature just laughed at me. His voice crushed me. The red eye sucked at the seams of whatever dimension, or dream, or plane of existence it was. With all my might, I held onto the cabin seats. The fingers of my fleshy hand slipped. But, my cybernetic hand held strong, resolute. I couldn't let go.

  “SAI!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Thanks For Everything

  With speed and determination, Glennsworth led me to a large patch of coffee-colored, dirt-sand mixture along one edge of the road. He tossed away the branches and twigs of deadwood and ripped out the few overgrown weeds that remained. Some small rocks and pebbles were scattered about, so he snatched those up and threw them out into the jungle. He nodded and looked content now that he had his clear canvas on which to draw out the plan. Whatever it was, it better have been good. Then again, I had no room to complain, given the direness of the situation.

  He pointed to the middle of the dirt-sand patch. “Stand there.”

  I looked at him with an arched brow, suspicious of his intent. “Are you going to cast some sort of spell on me?”

  “Nothing of the sort.”

  I stepped into the center. With the metal rod, he drew a giant circle around me. He drew five smaller circles, each with a different symbol. From those five circles, he created a star, like the one from the temple and the cover of his book. Now, I was really nervous. Why was he having me stand in the middle of it?

  “What is this?” I asked. “I see this symbol everywhere. In the temple, it was on the statue, on the slab, on the book cover… now, here.”

  He looked around at his creation, as if to make sure it was correct, then met my gaze. “It is a symbol of great power. There are many others, but I neither have the time nor the patience to elaborate.”

  I crossed my arms. “And how is a symbol going to help us against an elder daemon? How do we kill him?”

  “I see this is something I need to explain to you. But, I will keep it brief for simplicity's sake. Daemons are creatures of Interspace, and therefore, they cannot physically enter our universe - Realspace - unless summoned. The opposite is true for us. However, we have the Wyn Gates, which allow us to enter their realm at will. Understand thus far?”

  I nodded.

  He continued. “For a daemon or spirit to be summoned, the summoner must perform the correct ritual and recite an incantation. Summoning rituals require an offering. A physical sacrifice, so to speak, for the daemon to consume. That temple the Melvillians discovered was used specifically for this purpose.”

  “Okay, I get all that. But, you still haven't answered my question. How do we kill Shen'roth?”

  “Seeing as how our adversary possesses the ability of extreme cellular regeneration — which the texts did not mention — we have two options: Destroy him outright with an extraordinary amount of firepower—”

  “Like a nuke,” I said.

  He shot me a hard look. “Which we do not have. Or, we use this.”

  I looked down at the symbol. “So, what does this do?”

  “The Pentacle is utilized in two rituals: The aforementioned summoning ritual, or the banishment ritual.”

  I pointed at him and leapt from the circle. “You're going to sacrifice me to banish Shen'roth! I knew you were up to no good.”

  “Calm down, fool. I don't need you for that. Shen'roth is the sacrifice. Once he is gone — and if my theory is true — the hex over Jord and the others will be lifted. They will be free once more.”

  For a minute, I let his words sink in. Of course! We were sending him back, not bringing him there. A smirk crept onto my face, and I pointed at him. “You're a damn genius, Glennsworth. I should have trusted a wise, old wizard like you. You've probably done a hundred of these.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “A dozen of these?” I cocked my head.

  “This will be my first banishment.”

  “Whoa, you're kidding me! You've never done this before?”

  Glennsworth was silent as he stared off into the distance. My heart sank. I knew by his silence that he was about to tell me something I did not want to hear. He said, “I haven't been completely honest with you about who I am… about my abilities.”

  “What do you mean?”

  With a heavy sigh, he said, “I am an Initiate within a secret organization named the League of the Arcane.”

  “An Initiate?” I asked. “So, you weren't kidding when you said you were a student. You're not a real professor.”

  He nodded. “In part. But, I assure you, I can do this… with your help.”

  “I haven't been completely honest with you, either,” I said, kicking a twig away. “This was actually the company's first contract. So, there's that.”

  “I see,” he said. “A couple of amateurs.”

  W
e were both quiet. Whishing, cool gusts and the rumble of thunder filled the air. The storm crawled closer to us, like the looming threat of Shen'roth himself. Despite us both being two different types of screw-ups, our current problems were the same. We needed to get rid of that daemon and save those people's lives. All I knew was that I had the chance to make everything right again. I'd save Jord and the company. My life might have been a starship sinking into a black hole, but I could still course-correct. I could still fix this.

  “Now that we've dumped all our secret cargo out of the airlock,” I said, “what’s your plan? How do we do this?”