by Dean Kutzler
The universe—fucked!
Everybody was just fuck-fuck-fucked!
The last good-nerve holding the remainder of her sanity began to fray, and she never lost her shit—ever. She was a decorated, seasoned UFWA commander with one-hundred percent mission success rate, and she didn’t achieve that by losing her cool.
The last few years plotting and organizing the revolution, scrounging crystals and running from Scarab darts, barely keeping out of their grasp had taken its toll on her. She was so close to defeating the bastards, and in one fucking unsuspecting moment she got knocked over the head and dumped into an eternity of hell.
Something was shifting inside her like heat.
Rage burned in her chest, threatening to take on a life of its own, looking for a way out. It was like no anger she’d ever experienced—expanding throughout her body, searing her nerves and demanding release.
What’s happening?
Her arm began rising.
She fought an urge to blast the whole lot of them with her wristcom and tear the city apart, brick, by blue fucking brick.
She grabbed her wrist and lowered her arms in front.
If she didn’t get a grip soon, it would end badly.
A tickle twitched at the back of her neck, again, and she looked up to find Faelar staring at her with those goddamned clickity-click eyes clicking away at her!
Read my fucking mind! I don’t give a clickety-fucking-click! Maybe then you’ll see just how dangerous this fucking bitch can be!
Daxton stood by watching the silent exchange between Faelar and Saren, not knowing what was going on, but that look in her eyes frightened him. If there were a chance they would live on, here, forever, losing her cool with the guy in charge would make eternity a living hell for them.
Saren’s arm started rising, again, and Daxton gently placed a hand on it, bring it down, saying, “Faelar? Umm—Mr. Aarondorf?”
Faelar’s eyes clicked once, then rotated in his direction.
“May—ah, my friend here and I have a moment alone before caste judgment.”
He simply nodded.
Daxton lightly tugged on Saren’s arm, careful not to set her off.
Saren’s face was stone—her eyes never leaving Faelar.
Daxton pulled her aside, and a thin lock of hair fell over her face.
“Hey,” he whispered. “I’m all for guns-a-blazing, but that ain’t gonna help us, and you know it. What happened to the calm, collected commander of the Avenger I walked with down that path? Where is she? Because I need her back.”
She ignored Daxton and kept glaring at Faelar.
“Yeah, yeah,—if looks could kill and all,” he said, trying to lighten her mood. “Look, you wanna save your daughter, right?”
The hard edge to her face soften, and her eyes turned toward him.
“You raining hellfire down here isn’t gonna save her. Look—I can’t believe these words are gonna come outta my mouth,” he said, shaking his head. “But, we need to play by the rules, here. Catchin’ what I’m layin’ down? If there’s any chance of getting outta here, you need to calm down and think rationally, like before. Now come on—you with me?”
The blaze in Saren’s chest waned.
The reality of her heated thoughts surged forth, and rationality replaced the ebbing fire.
What was she thinking?
What happened? She never felt so out-of-control.
Daxton was right—more right than any man she knew. Was it his words, that soothed the yearning to destroy everything in the place, or thoughts of leaving Elyria to fend for herself at the hands of the Scarab?
Saren released the fists she didn’t realize she was making and took a deep breath, blowing it out and knocking the damned hair out of her face.
“Okay,” she said, nodding and looking him in the face. “Okay—Thank you.”
Daxton nodded, and they both returned in front of Faelar
“Please forgive me, Faelar,” she said, tucking the hair behind her ear. “It’s just that—all my life I’ve been dealing with—“
“Injustice,” he said, finishing the sentence. “Yes—yes, I completely understand.”
Reading her mind was not only rude, but it was also downright invasive. If she could focus on putting a wall up in her mind, she may be able to block Faelar or at least trick him into seeing what she wanted him to see.
“Now, let us get on to the place for the beginning of your caste quest. I am sure the residents of the Inner Ring are impatiently waiting. Your friends on top of the planet have caused them a considerable annoyance.” Click-click. “There will not be time for them to receive my introduction, as you are receiving now. They will immediately be deposited into the Kek Ring. Follow me.”
Faelar turned and strode down the pathway, not waiting to see if they followed.
Daxton looked at Saren and mouthed the words, Kek Ring?
“Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” she said, shrugging and following after Faelar.
Daxton stepped under the archway and glanced behind before the door rematerialized. The inhabitants of the Outer Ring were staring in with sad faces, shaking their heads, and the Vaticonians had moved to kneel before the door, holding crosses and frantically praying.
“Great—this should be fun,” he said, turning around.
Before catching up with Saren and Faelar, Daxton pulled the hidden object out of his vest, and his face flashed a pale yellow from the light pulsating from the object. He returned it and jogged after Saren and Faelar.
The three of them walked for miles before coming to a break on either side of the wall along the path. A sheen glimmered over the expanse of each break replacing the section of wall that Saren and Daxton recognized as force fields.
Behind each opening stood a city similar to the Outer Ring but in a desperate state of disrepair. The inhabitants wore tattered, filthy clothing and schlepped about broken down buildings with garbage littering the streets. The people had little regard for each other, pushing and shoving each other about, stopping to sneer at Saren and Daxton, waving obscene gestures at them.
Saren didn’t recognize many of the species behind the force fields.
“This is the Middle Ring.” Faelar waved a hand to each side.
“Faelar—what exactly will our caste journey involve?” Saren asked, looking into the city.
“You and Daxton, along with your friends on the surface will be fighting the rulers for placement within these castes. Each Ring itself is a caste. You will be fighting to get through each door to the next Ring.”
“Fighting?” Daxton said, eyeing a naked demon with horns and leathery wings, stalking back and forth behind the force field peering in at him. It was evident from the engorged appendage below what it wanted with him.
The demon leaned towards the force field pointing at Daxton and mouth the words, I’ll be waiting for you.
Daxton pulled his leather vest down in the back as far as it would go and rushed to stand next to Saren on the other side.
She turned with a puzzled look on her face, and he nodded to the force field.
“Oh—my!” Her eyes widened. “Now there is something unpleasant.”
Faelar glanced at the beast with an expressionless face, and the beast’s lip curled, and it spat black saliva on the force field in Faelar’s direction.
“It is best you seek to win the caste of Outer Ring. This species was from the Precambrian Era. Quite aggressive—Lethal, really,” Faelar said, continuing down the path.
“I see,” Saren said, nodding. “The Precambrian Era outdates old Earth by at least six-hundred million years, before the formation of the oldest rocks on the planet.”
“Yes.” He stopped, looking at her. “Impressive, but it is actually quite farther back than that, but with your species understanding of time that is close enough.
“It is also known as the Cryptozoic Eon. Humans eventually found obscure fossils which they could not understand. The same can
be found on this planet’s surface. It was never intended for beings like you to understand the creation of all things.”
The conversation bored Daxton, and it was giving them any clue as to what needed to be done on the quest to get to the Outer Ring.
“Getting back to that horny beast,” Daxton said, steading the conversation in a more useful direction. “Wouldn’t a creature that dangerous and powerful rule the highest caste?”
He glanced away, and said, “Among a quarry of its peers, yes.”
Faelar hurried down the path, and Saren frowned at Daxton, raising an eyebrow.
Daxton nodded, and in a low voice said, “He’s hiding something.”
“Uh-hmm.”
Another section of open wall guarded by force fields was up ahead.
A foul odor suddenly blew up the path.
Saren wrinkled her nose, and said, “I'm guessing higher intelligence trumps brute force?”
Faelar nodded.
“Maybe not in every instance, but the proclivity of eternity eventually changes those odds. When you take a step back from the illusion of time, it becomes more apparent.”
“Like when you’re too close, and you can’t see the pattern until you take a step back, right?”
“That is a surprisingly accurate assessment, Saren Thorn.”
“Is everyone missing the elephant in the room?” Daxton pinched his nose. “What’s the stank?”
“I’m sorry. My senses are immune to it after all this time,” he sighed heavily.
Saren knew the smell of death. She’d served it enough times, and the look on Faelar’s face said guilt, not sorrow.
“Well, what is it?” Daxton’s asked.
“I think it best that we just—move on.”
Daxton's eyes widened, and he followed along keeping his nose pinched.
“How Long have you been here, Faelar?” Saren asked.
“Longer than you have the mental capacity or words to understand the passage.”
“That long, huh?” Daxton said, rolling his eyes.
“Do not take that as an insult. The illusion of time for my kind is not understood in the same manner as yours. When you were created, access to the full potential of your brain was cut off for your protection.”
“A little bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing,” Saren said.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about that with me,” Daxton said. “Faelar, just what race are you?”
“That—you wouldn’t understand. Let us continue,” he said, stalking down the path.
“Now that—seemed like an insult.”
“Or he’s avoiding the question,” Saren said. “Come on. Let’s see what’s in store for us.”
As they continued down the path, the smell grew stronger and the air hotter—yet both at a tolerable level.
“We are approaching the Inner Ring,” Faelar said, picking up the pace.
Saren’s eyes roamed down the path on either side, looking for the break in the walls. “I don't see it,” she said.
Then the glint of force field rippled down each side of the path, and it quickly became clear. The world beyond was a dark wasteland. Skeletons of the buildings in the last two Rings were crumbling foundations here, barely dotting the surface. The streets lay in piles of blasted pavement, and clouds of smoke rose in the distance choking out the light.
“Where are all the people?” Daxton asked.
“I assume they are waiting for your arrival.”
“Wait!” Daxton said. “You mean to tell me this is where we’re going?”
Faelar nodded.
“You said no one ever leaves here. Ah—wouldn’t dying, constitute leaving?”
“There are worse things than death, Daxton Stone. Of all people, you should know that, but I sense you’ve forgotten somehow. It is lost to you.” A small crease appeared between his clicking eyes.
Saren glanced at Daxton’s vest, and her eyes roamed up to his face.
“I don’t know what he’s talking about,” he said, shaking his head. “Seriously, pal. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I ain’t done any serious crimes except scavenging as all space pirates do. Over half the known galaxies are guilty.
“You need to take a trip outta here once in a while. Have you heard of the Scarab? Maybe that’s why it’s so crowded down here. Time to redefine your definition of bad, buddy.”
Saren realized he was hiding something more than what fits in his pocket. The question now, was, did he remember any of it? And if not, why and how?
Faelar observed Daxton for a few more seconds—click, click—like he was trying to read his mind like he did Saren’s, before the wrinkle between his eyes smoothed.
Faelar continued down the remaining stretch of the pathway, and said, “I am bound here, equally as you, Daxton. Were it my choice—I’d leave you all here to rot.”
A chill wrapped around Saren’s spine.
Daxton—was silent.
The path ended, and there was no button on the wall because a round door was already there.
It was ancient, made of pitted, dark metal as wide as the path and reaching to the ceiling. Burned into each half was an intricate pattern of roots similar to Faelar’s forehead. At the bottom on each side, an identical design wriggled up the immense structure and branched out like a set of roots reaching for the surface, or, more like the tributaries of a great river.
“It’s huge,” Saren exclaimed, leaning back to get a better look.
“The size is needed to accommodate passage of a wide variety of sentient beings.”
As they approached the door, a green light appeared at the bottom of each root.
“And beautiful,” Daxton said.
At first, like Faelar’s forehead, Saren thought the design was a pattern of roots, but, now, she saw the representation was more like the branches of a river.
Without water, there can be no life.
“Is that—“
“Are you ready for your quest?” Faelar said, cutting her off and touching the door.
A dot of light appeared at the bottom portion of the pattern on his forehead, running up through the delicate branches and repeating the process. The lights on the door mimicked the motion in the design on Faelar’s head.
KEK RING
FAELAR removed his hand from the door and crossed long, skeletal arms over his chest. The pattern of light on his forehead brightened, moving faster, and each half of the door began slowly retracting into the wall, revealing an inky-blackness behind like wavy tar.
The fine hairs on Saren’s arms inside the body armor rose from a sudden electric heat washing over her, emanating from the black pitch undulating within the doorway.
“Our journey together is over. The Kek Ring is as far as I will take you, but no further.”
“I thought this was the Inner Ring?” Saren said.
“You must travel through the Omphalos of Hotomkan contained in the Kek Ring.” Faelar pointed to the door. “Then you will reach the Inner Ring of Kahari where your quest begins.
“I will caution you. The rulers will be waiting for you to step out. They are always given the advantage—“
“Hey!” Daxton said, interrupting Faelar. “How is that fair?”
“Daxton Stone did you find life outside of this planet fair? Or the circumstances of Saren Thorn’s arrival?”
“Well—,“ Daxton shrugged. “I’ll give you that life wasn’t fair, but I told you I don’t belong—”
“Enough!” Faelar snapped. “You will enter once the Kek Ring is fully open.”
Saren had a bad feeling about the blackness. It didn’t look overly threatening except for the sticky darkness, but it had the stench of death coming off it without the smell, which she just realized was gone.
An immense sound of clanking metal came from the wall around the Kek Ring, and the door was fully open.
The light snaking through the pattern on Faelar’s forehead faded, and he stepped away from the do
or.
“Please, begin your journey,” he said, sweeping an arm toward the darkness of the Omphalos of Hotomkan.
Saren looked at Daxton to see if he was ready.
He stared at the pitch with dreamy eyes, swaying toward it ready to go in, and she looked at the blackness again.
Does he see something I’m not?
“Please step inside the Kek Ring,” Faelar urged.
“Faelar,” Saren said, placing a hand on Daxton’s arm when he moved forward. “Will we have to fight each other once the ruler is defeated?”
His eyes click-clicked as he answered. “No rules govern the quest except only one ruler can exist for each Ring.”
“What happens to the losers?”
“It depends on the quest.”
Saren didn’t understand why he was purposely elusive.
“If we’re all stuck here—forever, what happens to the ones that die on the quest?”
Try and skate around that question.
“The people of Kahari cannot die.”
“Then where do they go? Do they just pop back up like zombies?”
Sorry—not giving up.
Saren knew they’d have no choice but to enter, eventually, but she’d keep pushing for an answer before walking into that muck, and she didn’t care if he was reading her mind—which he was.
She had nothing to hide. She didn’t belong here, after all.
“Zombies do not exist. It is best—“
“I’m sure the answer isn’t pleasant, Faelar, but I’d like to know what we’re up against. I mean, we have no choice but to go on the quest, anyway. Right? What would be the harm in telling me.”
Saren adjusted her grip on Daxton’s arm as he reached towards the darkness, oblivious to the conversation.
What’s wrong with him?
Faelar stepped near the Kek Ring and put a bony hand near the muck. Small tendrils of the tar-like substance stretched out, reaching for his fingertips before he pulled his hand back.
“Before creation—even of this world, and before the Great Dolos, there existed the complete and utter darkness of chaos. The absence of light is not an indication of nothingness. It is only the helpless perception of the mind. A way of grasping for an explanation of what it does not understand.