Void Legion

by Terry C. Simpson

  “Speaking of mazes,” Frost said, “you coulda told us the way.”

  The holo slapped a palm to its translucent forehead. “Slipped my mind. But still, nothing worth doing is easy. How did you figure it out?”

  “That was all her.” Frost jabbed a thumb in Gilda’s direction.

  Gilda smiled bashfully and said, “It was from all those talks we had and quite a bit of research. Took some doing, but once I realized Imanok was really Konami, one of the old game companies you often went on about, I dug up some archives on their games. Emperor Demon Gava or Tenno Ki Gyaba was one of their bosses in a game called Contra. A game you mentioned being in love with. A search on the Grid got me an old code they were known for. Although the last two bits of it were missing.”

  “Excellent.” Pops smiled. “You were always a quick thinker. Too bad we no longer have access to the old internet databases. You would’ve found the entire thing.” Pops hesitated for a moment, a frown creasing his holographic features. “Come, hurry. Extend your hands with the aether rings until they touch me.”

  When Frost and Gilda touched the holo, the particles swirled. They coiled around their hands, formed a thin line, then zipped into the rings.

  Frost felt a flash of something. Something electric deep within himself. He had a sense of numbers. Instructions. Code. He couldn’t tell what any of it meant, but if he focused he could repeat every line.

  “Dre,” Pops said. His translucent arm pointed down at the map. “These are the nine protocol locations. Myself and Uncle Kim built them into the quest lines. Do what I couldn’t and expose Equitane. Help stop Sidrie.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  “Whatever you do, make sure Sidrie doesn’t get her hands on the protocols,” Pops said. “Without all of them, she won’t have full control of everything in Void Legion. It’s one advantage you have. Keep it that way.”

  “Alright, Pops.”

  The holo’s expression softened. “Son, I’m sorry I failed the family. Failed you. I always wanted you to be the best you could be. Sorry I left you like I did, but I see you’ve become more of a man than I could’ve dreamed.”

  Frost smiled. He wished he could hug his father. “Thanks, Pops. You don’t know how much that means to me. I miss you so much.”

  “I miss you, too. All of you.”

  Warm tears trickled down Frost’s cheeks. His voice was brittle when he spoke. “I blamed you for everything bad that’s happened since you left. Even your own death. Which wasn’t fair. You did the best you could for us. And sometimes, even when you’re trying your best, shit happens.” Frost brushed the tears from his cheeks. A weight lifted from his shoulders, one he hadn’t realized he had been carrying for over six months.

  “It does, indeed,” Pops said, smiling. His face grew serious. “I’ll see you around in game, son. Get out of here before the Nomarch catches you.” The holo faded.

  Frost took a final look at the empty space. Then he memorized the locations on the map. He and Gilda left the Void.

  As soon as they reappeared, Dante was standing directly outside the door, eyes shining eagerly. “What was in there? Epic loot? Mobs? I tried to get in, but it wouldn’t let me.”

  “Was an empty room with a map of Mikander,” Frost said. “I’m thinking some kind of operations room.”

  “How come it let you in?” Dante gave them both a searching look.

  “Hell, if I know.” Frost shrugged. “I just tried.”

  “Could be that we’re erada,” Gilda said.

  “Figures.” Dante shook his head.

  “Let’s get out of here.” Frost eyed the open throne room door. “Nomarch Setnana and her Battleguards might come through any minute now.”

  “What about the Genesis Engine?” Dante nodded to the machine.

  “Not much we can do about it,” Frost said.

  “Like hell there isn’t.” Saba scowled. “If we leave, and Nomarch Setnana finds her way through the maze, the Black Hand will get their hands on it. Isn’t that as bad as them getting the zhua or the schema?”

  “Not really,” Frost said. “The Coalition already has access to a few Engines in the captured areas beyond the Dagoda Front. Which means the Black Hand does also. Blue Sky could certainly use it, but there’s nothing we can do about that right now. It’s better if we don’t risk the zhua or the schema.”

  Gilda spoke. “We can always put together a group to go into the Front and find us a Genesis Engine to use once we get some hierkaneers. We know more Engines exist. We can’t say the same about Benediction or the schema.”

  Frost also hated the idea of abandoning the Genesis Engine. He also hated that he wouldn’t get to fulfill Anefet’s quest and take vengeance as yet. But deep inside, he knew he was nowhere near ready to face Setnana.

  “We’ll take Sigrid to her people in the Daggerspine,” he said. “Hopefully, Adesh and Ryne made it out safely. Let’s go.” Frost took one last look at the emperor’s corpse and smiled at the prospect of seeing his family, of Mom finally awake. He led them to the portal.

  They reappeared on the lake’s eastern bank. Sigrid told them she knew the area and led them to another dvergr tribe who provided them with crevids. Not long after, they ascended the mountain and found the remnants of Sigrid’s tribe, including Dagrun. Both Adesh Hamada and Ryne were also there.

  In the midst of the celebration of their return and victory, Frost was pulled from the game.

  CHAPTER 40

  “No, no, no, no.” Setnana shook her head as she hurried toward the corpse. Her stomach clenched.

  The massive hydra was already rotting, but there was no denying its identity. Emperor KiGyaba was dead.

  “Nomarch Setnana, over here,” Ihuet shouted. “The treasure room.”

  Setnana prayed that the Blue Sky group had somehow missed the chance to loot the throne room. She and her people had been close to them. Surely, they lacked the time for the kill and to steal every bit of treasure.

  She frowned at the machine beyond the open doorway where Ihuet stood. The korbitanium frame. The large cylindrical tube containing aether. The transmutation platform. A Genesis Engine. She’d seen its like once before in a stronghold taken by the Vindicators beyond the Dagoda Front. This was a priceless discovery. Her heart soared. Not only because of the Engine, but its presence meant Benediction was still here.

  Nif shines on me. I didn’t need to find a way to kill a beast who has defeated everyone else before, and now I get to take what is mine. Perihy will be cured. Cured! She saw his face, his beautiful face, his skin so dark and vibrant and full of life.

  She hurried into the treasure room. And stopped dead. The chests were open.

  No, no, no, no, no. Her hands shook. Her legs were jelly as she approached the chests.

  The first one was empty. Inside was a velvet mold in the shape of a staff with a clawed hand at the top. A zhua. Benediction. IM made her aware of her failure.

  The room became a blur. She found it hard to breathe. All she could think of was Perihy. Aether energy crackled.

  “Nomarch, let him go.” The voice was Ihuet’s. “Please.”

  She shook herself and glanced over. Her arm was outstretched. Dark tendrils snaked from her to the closest Battleguard. He was a mere husk, his life drained by her Soul Leech.

  “I have failed Perihy,” she blurted.

  “No, you haven’t.” Khafra was on the other side of her. “Whatever happens now, Blue Sky is to blame. As well as Adesh Hamada, this Drelan Frost, and his friends. We will find them.”

  “There’s also the Genesis Engine,” Ihuet said. “You have the spell shards. You brought hierkaneers, which means they will know how to safely detach the Genesis Engine from the Aetherstream and take it with us. Then they can experiment to recreate whatever else you mig
ht need.”

  “We can work on a cure as well as build an arsenal for ourselves,” Khafra said.

  She nodded numbly. “Yes. Yes, we can.” Her voice was distant to her own ears.

  ******

  Setnana offered prayers to Nif as she and Aishani stood at the window of the observation room deep in Aprunis’ Temple of Nif. Perihy was shackled to the bed. A precaution against his reaction to the healing.

  The return trip had left Setnana haggard. And even more worried since no hierkaneer had any idea how to craft Benediction. Not without the missing schema.

  But she had hope. Hope provided by Vindicator Dita’s strength in spellcasting and her personal zhua. The woman’s reputation as one of the greatest mystics preceded her.

  Vindicator Dita had cast the spells upon Perihy the night before. It was coming upon the thirtieth hour that he had remained healthy, his skin vibrant. Pure. He had not opened his eyes as yet, but his face was serene. A few more minutes, Dita had promised. A few more minutes to know if the results would be permanent.

  Timespheres throughout Aprunis gonged the first toll of the thirtieth hour. A long peal.

  “Praise be to Nif.” Smiling, Setnana raised her face to the heavens.

  Aishani squeezed Setnana’s arm. Hard.

  Perihy’s scream reverberated from the room, through the window. Setnana snapped her attention to her son. She gaped. Vindicator Dita had stepped well away from the bed. Aether glowed all around her, focused on the zhua the woman held. Beside the Vindicator stood a sorcerer and a shadowmancer, glowing chakrams and haladie pointed toward the boy on the bed.

  Perihy writhed. His face contorted. He fought against the shackles, bucked and kicked and lifted from the bed, his back arched into an impossible position, leaving several feet of space beneath him. A C turned downward. Abruptly, his body smashed the opposite way of its curvature, slamming into the bed, buckling the metal frame.

  Setnana’s heart thundered. She clenched her fists. Her legs buckled. She stretched an inadvertent hand toward Perihy. As if the hand could help him.

  “Please, Nif, help him. Please, Nif, I beg you.” Over and over, she beseeched the goddess.

  Perihy’s skin lost its vibrance. Its life. It became completely gray. His skin tore. Blood leaked. All along his body, his muscles bulged and shifted and moved as if something lived within his very skin.

  His skin burst. Every inch of it. Blood splashed the window.

  Nomarch Setnana Botros wailed.

  Shackled to the bed was a draconid.

  CHAPTER 41

  Holding Kai’s hand, his heart thundering, Dre approached Mom’s medical quarters. He didn’t know what to expect. He feared what he might find, yet he clung to hope. Sidrie’s only words were to congratulate him and to order the guards to bring them here.

  The door slid open.

  Dre’s heart leapt. Mom was sitting up against a pillow. Kai let go of his hand and ran toward the bed, laughing.

  “Mommmmmmyyyyyyy!”

  Tears streamed down Dre’s face. Nothing could replace the elation he had inside.

  ******

  Up on the two hundred and fortieth floor of Equitane Towers, in the most secure of quarters, Sidrie Malikah watched impassively as the holo displayed Andre Taylor leaning down to kiss Theresa on the cheek. The woman brushed her son’s face, tears streaming down her own. Her other hand stroked her daughter’s head, where Kai rested on Theresa’s chest.

  Sidrie considered dashing their joy with the news that Andre’s services were still required, and in fact, had just begun. She decided to let them have their moment. For now. After all, she needed Theresa to give birth to healthy babies.

  Communication from Zhi Yin flashed into Sidrie’s optics. “Yes, Zhi?”

  “The programming team has it, Miss Malikah.” The restrained triumph in her sweet voice was palpable.

  Sidrie tried to contain her own thrill. She spoke calmly. “Have they confirmed that it is the first protocol?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you, Zhi. I will be along shortly.”

  “Yes, Miss Malikah.” The comms cut off.

  Sidrie drew in a long, deep breath. She let it out slowly, chasing away her excitement.

  Smart to hide it in game. As I suspected. But what else are you hiding, Alphonso?

  She was missing something else. Something bigger. She felt it. Whatever the secret, Andre would lead her to it and all the protocols. With a thought, she changed the view in her HUD to another room on this floor.

  In it, her clone was peering from an observation window down into an area where surgeons labored over Alphonso’s body. TNT machines kept the man alive. Seven months had passed and they’d regrown much of him. But it still wasn’t enough. Not yet. Not until she got her hands on Hank Kim’s research or on Kim himself.

  Until then, she hoped the clone standing next to her clone, twin to the one in surgery, could learn enough to be convincing. The plethora of information gathered from the extensive surveillance of the Taylors had to suffice. Her window of opportunity was never better. She needed all the protocols. Not three months from now. Not three weeks. Now.

  ******

  Late that night, long after Mom fell asleep, Dre was lying next to Just Blaze. They had been given leave earlier in the evening. They had snuck off to a hotel in the fifteenth ward.

  Staring at the ceiling, Dre thought about Void Legion. About Pops. About the family. His greatest wish was justice for Pops and the family and to be free of Sidrie. At the same time he really wanted to play the game. It truly blew his mind. He had so many questions and couldn’t wait to see Pops again.

  He was even more certain now that SRMMOs were the most perfect entertainment ever created. He was also equally certain they weren’t better than sex. They weren’t better than real life. Making love to Just Blaze was more than just entertainment. It was everything. He admired the smooth honey skin next to him, trailed his fingers down her shoulder and back to where her ass curved into a perfect onion.

  “So, when are you gonna tell me your real name. I can’t go around calling you Gilda Mordian IRL. Certainly can’t introduce you to Mom by your IGN. And Just Blaze… well… that won’t do either.”

  “Just call me Blaze,” she said.

  “Blaze.” He rolled it around on his tongue. “Blaze. I like that. I really like that.”

  THE END.

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  Copyright

  Void Legion is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Golden Arm Press

  Copyright © January 2019 Terry C. Simpson All rights reserved

  Mapwork by Terry C. Simpson

  Cover Art by Julie Nichols

  The right of Terry C. Simpson to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

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  ISBN 978-1-939172-24-2

  KINDLE edition