by Keary Taylor
Early in the morning, I pick up the bag from Crag, and head to the low-level meeting place.
I feel him nudge against my brain. But as I see my client up ahead, I shove him out with the thought that I will get back to him later.
Just as the client is transferring the credits to my account, he pushes against my brain again, a little harder this time.
“Not now,” I send down the connection, and I shut the door to him.
When the transaction is finished and my account feels nice and padded, I head toward the shop, meeting Zayne part way.
I didn’t tell him I was delivering the product this morning. I didn’t want him coming. There’s no need for him to get mixed up even deeper than he is.
I know he doesn’t want to come on deliveries. But he’s a chronic worrier, especially when it comes to me.
He lost his parents just after he came of legal age. He’d been in school, staying busy doing what college-aged kids do, partying and drinking too much calypso and working hard in school.
He hadn’t thought to check in with his parents. Not for weeks.
When he went home for the holidays, what he found…it wasn’t anything anyone should have had to see.
Someone had broken into their cube and killed his family. They’d stolen everything, drained his family’ss accounts. Their bodies hadn’t been found for weeks, so the stink and the rot…
I can’t entirely blame him for worrying all the time.
Just as we step into the shop, I feel him knock at the back door of my brain again.
“I’m obviously busy today!” I yell down the connection. “I’ll talk to you tonight.”
I get this pressing impression. Of him yelling my name and that he needs to talk to me. But it’s as if it’s coming from behind a closed door.
“What’s on the agenda today?” Zayne asks, grabbing his holotab and pulling up our order list.
We have a battle-axe up next. It’s going to be easy and quick, but it also means I can’t charge near as much for it.
The smell of molten metal is strong in the air. The forge set us back fifty-thousand credits, but since I don’t have access to Horne Energy’s anymore, it was a purchase we would have been dead in the water without.
Again, I feel him knock at my brain. But I’m in the middle of pouring the molten steel into the form. I need to concentrate or I’m going to melt my skin right off my bones.
While the metal cools, I set to the handle. I take pride in my work. There’s a crystal encasement for the Neron that will be deposited, and some twisting, sculpted steel frames it in a beautiful pattern. I wrap the handle in Tohiri leather.
Together, we grind down the blade, taking it to a sharp point that could slip right down through a man’s skull.
I’ve just attached the blade when my connect-link beeps.
I angle my wrist to my line of sight, activating the screen.
TRANSFER RECEIVED the message displays. THREE MILLION CREDITS DEPOSITED.
My brows furrow and I tap the message, opening it.
“What the void,” I mutter under my breath. Sure enough, it is a legitimate alert from my bank. I open up the account, and it displays that I now have three point five million credits.
There are no payment details, and the sender is anonymous.
“What?” Zayne asks as he polishes the blade of the finished axe.
“Someone just-”
But I hear yelling outside. Lots of yelling. They sound absolutely panicked.
Zayne’s brows furrow together, and he darts for the main door out the side of the building. I follow him step-for-step. Out in the streets, there are dozens of people, looking up at the sky with gaping mouths, with their hands over their hearts. They shout, their voices terrified-sounding, fingers pointing up.
I turn, stepping further into the street to try and see what they’re looking at.
I have to look up, and up, to find the sky above the towering, massive buildings.
But it isn’t hard to find or hard to see.
There’s a ship in the sky. So large it blots out the sun. So large, it takes up nearly the entire skyline.
It’s pitch black, but all of its seams glow brilliant, Neron blue.
There isn’t a person in the Eon Galaxy who wouldn’t know what that ship was.
The Dominion.
Owned by Cyrillius. Used to execute Dominion’s business.
It’s the ship that ends lives and ruins worlds.
And as I watch, I see a hatch open, and a Class 4 ship smoothly sails out of the Class 1. It’s the second most recognizable ship in the galaxy.
The Black Arrow. The battleship that belongs to Valen Nero.
The last known Nero in the galaxy. The puppet of Cyrillius.
“No,” the word slips over my lips as my heart turns cold.
Dominion has come. The end is already here.
And I’m still on Korpillion.
I was supposed to have four more solars. I was supposed to be gone in three. We were supposed to be settled and comfortable on Panus long before this day came. Long before that ship blotted out the sky.
The name Dominion ripples throughout the air. Gasps, and tears, and shouted plans ripple through the street.
I can’t feel my heart. I don’t feel a beat in my chest, I can’t hear pounding in my ears.
My wrist vibrates and numbly, I raise it to activate the screen. There’s a message there, but no sender name.
21908 Airspace 21, Hangar 15.
My brows furrow, confusion ripping through my chest like a hurricane mixed with my panic.
“Who is that from?” Zayne asks, looking down at the message I’m trying to make sense of.
“I have no idea,” I say, shaking my head. “There is no sender. How is that even possible?”
“It isn’t that difficult to hide that information,” Zayne says. “Why are they sending you an address at the Airspace?”
“Zayne, someone also just dumped three million credits into my account,” I say as my eyes rise up to meet his.
I feel this…pit in my stomach. There’s something cold and heavy in the bottom of it.
“Come on,” I say, grabbing his wrist and dragging him back into the shop. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
“Where the void are we going to go, Nova?” he says, even though he whips around the space, gathering his things.
“Well, I’ve got the credits to get us off Korpillion now,” I say. I grab my cargo bag from a shelf, double check my staff is inside. I grab a few tools. I don’t know why, but I feel handicapped without them. I grab my own holotab and stuff it in. And last, I grab the battle-axe and squeeze it into the bag. It barely fits. But it fits. “Whoever is doing this seems to want to get me off the planet. We have to go to the Airspace and see what’s waiting for me in that hangar.”
There’s a look of panic and stress in his eyes, but Zayne nods. His eyes sweep the shop one last time, making sure we have everything, and we walk out of the shop.
It hurts me a little bit. I’d just gotten established. I’ve worked so hard for this. And now I have to walk away from everything that made me me on this planet.
“Let’s go,” I say, grabbing Zayne’s hand, and darting down the walkway that weaves through the buildings. Where the streets should have been somewhat cleared right now while everyone is inside working, they’re packed as more and more realize that something is happening outside and they go to see the doom that is coming for them.
We’re not the only ones racing somewhere, though. Others dart through the skywalks, heading wherever seems safer, heading to meet their loved ones. But there will be no escape for the vast majority of them.
Dad’s school is two and a half kilometers from my warehouse. With how crowded the streets are, it’s almost impossible to move faster than a walk.
But suddenly, the masses come to a dead stop.
There’s movement in the sky.
The Black Arrow exited The Do
minion, and just hovered in the sky, as if waiting for orders. But now it lights up blue, and sails forward, smooth and silent. All eyes stop and watch as it descends.
There is a government building just one block from our old work. Between the two, there is the only flat, mid-Terra level space in the whole city. There are fountains and gardens there and the only four trees left on the entire planet. There’s a tiny patch of grass. It’s supposed to serve as a reminder of what the planet once was. The only green space for millions and millions of kilometers.
The Black Arrow descends and I know the green space is exactly where it lands.
I swear, tugging on Zayne’s wrist once more, and take off down the skywalk.
This is bad. So bad.
Dad’s school is right across from that park where The Black Arrow is landing.
Just then, The Dominion’s hatch opens once more, and a dozen Class 5 ships spill out of it, heading in three different directions.
Oh, void.
“Someone must have talked,” Zayne says as we race through the skywalks. “I knew there were too many rumors going around about on-planet Neron.”
It’s just a constant stream of swear words going through my head.
What if this is my fault? For exposing my staff a few weeks ago? What if someone questioned where I got the Neron? What if they wanted to make a few credits for telling Dominion about all the rumors, and then the confirmation that they’d seen an activated Neron weapon on a supposedly Neron-less planet?
The school comes into view, but there is no back entry. We have to round the entire block to get to the doors. My heart is hammering in my throat at the thought of having to get so close to The Black Arrow, but I have no other option.
As we close in on the corner of the building, I slow, pressing my back flat to the building. Slowly, I peer around the corner.
The Square is silent. Not a soul occupies the normally crowded space. The Black Arrow fills the entire space, except the great stairs that rise up to the park. I see the debris of the last four trees on Korpillion, crushed and splintered beneath the weight of the ship.
The hatch of the ship hasn’t opened yet. I don’t see anyone around. I don’t have any time to waste, so I grab Zayne and drag him along the front of the building, sprinting for the front doors of the school.
There are terrified whimpers and muttered regrets when we walk inside. All of the children have their noses pressed to the glass, staring wide-eyed and terrified at the Nero’s ship.
But I can’t think about them right now. I have to find my father, and I have to get us off this planet.
We dart through the halls and I immediately head toward the stairs at the back of the building. Down we go, down, down, three floors until we’re at Terra level where it’s dark and smells of equipment and grease.
“Dad?” I yell, looking up and down the service hallways. “Dad, where are you?”
“Nova?” I hear him call from back, deep in the tunnels.
I run that direction. “Dad, come on. We have to get out of here.”
He steps out into the hall, and I collide with him, chest to chest. He grabs me, staining my arms with his greased hands. His gray eyes stare into mine, searching for the reason for my panic.
“What’s going on?” he asks. There’s a hint of fear in his voice. Because I don’t spook easily, and he can see the fear in my eyes.
“Dominion is here,” I say the words very clearly and calm. “They brought their ship, and their soldiers, and even the Nero is here with The Black Arrow.”
Torin’s eyes widen, fear and confusion filling them. “Why?” he questions. “Why would they ever come here?”
“Because there is Neron on Korpillion,” Zayne fills in.
I watch as terror fills my father’s face. I swear, I can see his entire life flashing before his eyes. His grip on my arms tightens, to the point I wince in pain.
“We have to go,” he says in a breathy whisper. “We have to get off this planet.”
I nod in agreement. He doesn’t know I now have the means to do that. But he understands. He knows what will happen if we stay.
He doesn’t even grab anything. He has nothing to take. He’s a lowly maintenance worker that doesn’t even have claim to the tools he uses down here in the dark to keep this building functioning for the future of Korpillion.
But there is no future here, anymore.
Together, the three of us dash back up the stairs. As we near the doors, we slow though.
Because it’s absolutely quiet in the school now.
All the teachers and all the students are still standing with their faces pressed to the glass. But they don’t make a sound now. They barely breathe.
We walk up to those front doors with their glass windows, and look outside at how the view of the park has changed.
Two-dozen Dominion soldiers stand in the park, their Neron weapons pointed at eleven people on their knees.
There are four women and one man dressed in shredded, dangling black clothing. Their fingertips are withered and black. Black also creeps out from their mouths, like half a dozen enormous spiders are trying to escape their mouths, but only the legs have emerged from their lips.
And their eyes. Solid black. Soulless. The things of nightmares.
The Kinduri.
A man stands before the prisoners on their knees. Anyone would recognize him from the holo reports. He’s the richest, most powerful man in the galaxy. Cyrillius.
And beside him, dressed in solid black, standing far taller than any of the others, with his black mask on, is none other then Valen Nero.
My heart stops. The scene is bad. It’s terrifying, and it’s the opening act of what is to come, to what our world is about to evolve into.
But it’s not what stops the blood from flowing through my veins.
It’s that I know those eleven people on their knees with their hands behind their heads. I recognize every one of their faces.
They’re Reena’s workers. The miners. The preparers. Every person who assists Reena in running the Neron mine is there on their knees. And I know what is about to become of them.
But as I scan their faces for the tenth time, I confirm. Reena is not among them.
I know what happened. Dominion’s soldiers used their scanners to find the mine. They found all the workers doing their jobs. They took them, brought them here.
Reena had to have been out on a deal.
And it saved her life.
A crowd has gathered around the Square, watching with terror and fear. The Regulator of Korpillion stands out on the government stairs, his affiliates with him. They watch with solemn faces, because they know there isn’t a slam thing they can do now that Dominion is here.
Cyrillius turns and his eyes scan the crowd. Not only looking at those who stand outside, watching and waiting, but they sweep the buildings, as if he can see the millions of people who surround him.
“Dominion offers you its greetings.”
I press my hands over my ears, because suddenly, they’re vibrating with the sound of Cyrillius’ voice.
Every building on the planet is soundproofed. It’s the only way to stay sane on a planet with twenty-eight point one billion noise creators.
But I feel the vibrations of sound everywhere. Beneath my feet, as if its traveling through the steel frames of the buildings. I feel it coming off the walls.
I don’t know how he does it, but I feel his words, right in my chest as if he’s pounding them right into my heart.
“I know that you are afraid,” Cyrillius says. He’s calm; he actually looks peaceful as his eyes sweep the crowd. “I know there are stories and accounts from other worlds. But Dominion is not what you need fear.”
I shake my head.
I’ve heard of his lies. Arden Black has broadcasted interviews with the man before. But actually hearing them live, from his own lips, I want to end him.
“Chaos is what you should fear,” Cyrillius continu
es. “Disorder is what you should fear. I want you to imagine it. A galaxy where there is no one to regulate Neron. A galaxy where Neron may be claimed by anyone. Any army. Any government. I want you to imagine a galaxy where Neron is used in interplanetary warfare.”
I don’t want to imagine what he’s saying, but I can’t help it.
And for just a second, I believe it.
I can imagine a galaxy where Neron is under free claim.
I can imagine the wars. The destruction. The entire planets that could be obliterated.
But I shake my head. I know what Dominion has done with their self-obtained power. I know the trillions of lives they’ve altered. The mothers and fathers and children they’ve turned into slaves and then killed.
I know what they did to the people on Hogwa just days ago.
“I know that Dominion’s presence is taxing on a planet,” Cyrillius says. His voice is gentle, understanding. He sounds like a father talking to his children. “But the galaxy would turn into a wasteland without it.”
“Shut your lying slag mouth,” Zayne says under his breath.
I look around. I forgot I was surrounded by children and teachers. I want to put my hands over their ears, so they can’t hear the lies Cyrillius tells so well. I want them to turn away from the window so they can’t see the caring look on his face.
They don’t know any better.
They don’t know the truth.
“For the safety of the galaxy,” Cyrillius says, his voice magically amplified to fill the city, “we must bring those individuals who selfishly kept Korpillion’s Neron to themselves to justice.”
“Look away,” I hear the teachers say. “Come away from the windows,” they frantically instruct.
A few of the students listen, but most can’t tear their eyes away.
I can’t either.
I watch in horror.
The Kinduri step forward, placing their hands on either side of the miner’s heads. Their own heads turn skyward, their black eyes sliding closed. The miners seem frozen and their mouths fall open as if they are in excruciating pain, but no sound escapes.