Pearseus Bundle: The Complete Pearseus Sci-fi/Fantasy Series

by Nicholas C. Rossis

She leaned forward, her breath catching. The main Capitolian forces emerged from behind the archers to cut the Antheans’ way. Now, it all hung on the thin Anthean center holding.

  No, no, no! Despite the Antheans’ bravery, their center force crashed on the wall formed by the Capitolian forces like a desperate wave against a solid rock. The front lines of both armies were annihilated, but the thicker enemy lines meant there was no way the Antheans could break through. Damn!

  The Capital

  Gella

  When David helped her to her feet inside the lab, all of her instincts, all of her training, told her to push him away, to keep marching on her own. Now, she was grateful for the heat from his body, for his strength, for his care and tenderness. Every now and then, he kept glancing at her. At first, his worried glances annoyed her. Now, she ignored them. At this rate, maybe I’ll even be glad for it in an hour or so.

  Once they stepped through the open glass pane, they found themselves inside a stone tunnel. The edges were rough and uneven, almost like someone had dug through the rock under the Capital with their bare hands. She sniffed the stale air. It stank of mold and decay, but there was something else there, too—a sinister presence, like a dark fog weighing down on them.

  After an hour’s walk, they were still descending farther into the planet’s bowels. She wiped sweat from her brow. The temperature had risen several degrees in the past hour, she realized.

  “Shouldn’t it be colder?” she whispered.

  David nodded. “I was just thinking that. We must be under the cemetery. Remember the hot water spring and the eternal flame? Maybe this is where they originate.”

  “That explains the orange glow,” Cyrus said, his arm propping Sebastian. He seemed to be stifling a yawn as he stumbled under Sebastian’s weight. “How much do you weigh, anyway?” he moaned.

  The clone shot him a sideways glare. “I told you, I’m fine,” he growled. “I can walk on my own.”

  “With so much blood lost, it’s a miracle you can stand, let alone walk. Another minute and you would’ve been a goner.”

  A faint light in the distance caught Gella’s eye. “What’s that?”

  Cyrus fired up the rod. The burning blade lit up the tunnel, showing a side passageway. “Looks like there’s a fork coming up. Which way should we go?”

  “It’s not a fork,” Gella said as they approached. “Look, there’s some sort of door at the end here.”

  They slowed down, studying the metal door a dozen yards down the side tunnel.

  “Is that…” David said, his voice trailing off as he cocked his head to look at the stenciled letters.

  “That’s not a door,” Cyrus said, marvel in his voice. “It’s a hatch. It’s from Pearseus.”

  They stared at the metal door wedged into the tunnel in an airtight manner. The name UES Pearseus could be clearly seen, as if written yesterday. Someone had stenciled, Warehouse 14 over that.

  “What the hell is it doing down here?” David asked.

  “That’s not important,” Sebastian said. “Do we enter or leave?”

  “Enter,” David said, glancing at Gella with worry. “We must rest. Tend to our wounds.”

  “I second that,” Cyrus said with another yawn.

  She shook her head. “What if someone’s following us? We’d be sitting ducks.”

  “We have no idea where the tunnel leads,” Sebastian said with a shrug that almost made Cyrus lose his balance. “Maybe it’s freedom. Or, maybe there are guards waiting for us.” He leaned against a rock. “I agree with David. We can barricade the door before resting. If we must fight, I’d rather be able to stand.”

  Gella pursed her lips. “So, do we knock, or…”

  “It’s open,” Cyrus said and walked through the hatch, dragging Sebastian behind him.

  David

  David hesitated for a moment, glancing at Gella. When she nodded her agreement, he helped her through the hatch and into a cavernous space that was more warehouse than room. Racks of shelves filled with boxes and unidentifiable items expanded as far as the eye could see. Spacesuits hung on hangers, next to weapons of various sorts and metal jars. Flickering screens displayed information, presumably pertaining to the contents of each rack.

  He studied a map of the planet. It seemed painted, but the level of detail was astounding, and it covered areas as yet unexplored, including east of the Great Chasm.

  “Many of the survivors were artists,” an older man’s soft voice said behind him.

  They whirled around to see an elderly bespectacled man in a white robe. He pushed the lenses farther up the bridge of his nose, obscuring piercing blue eyes. “This was made by one of them, a painter of some renown back on Earth. The one thing she took with her when she fled into her escape pod was her paints and brushes. They turned out to be quite a precious commodity on the planet.”

  Cyrus rushed the man, keeping his injured arm close to his body. “Who are you?” He tried to grab him, but his hand pushed through the specter. The man flickered for a moment, then reappeared as solid as before. Cyrus stumbled back, staring at his hand and the man. “What the…”

  The man cleared his throat. “As I was saying, this painting was based on readings taken just before the explosion. It was a gift to Captain Kibwe on the survivors’ first anniversary on the planet.”

  “Who are you?” Sebastian asked, his rod unsheathed. His thumb caressed the button that would fire it up.

  “They call me the Librarian,” the man said with a small bow. He lowered his glasses and stared at Sebastian. “I know who everyone else is, of course, but a clone that escorts humans is not something one sees every day.”

  “I once met one like you,” Gella said, her voice thick with emotion. “She saved my life.”

  The man pursed his lips. “A medical avatar, perhaps?” You must have come across one of the medical bays. Several were launched when Pearseus went down. I have always thought many must have survived, although their whereabouts are largely unknown.”

  “Could someone explain just what the hell is going on?” Cyrus asked, clutching his arm.

  “The young ruler is getting impatient,” the Librarian said with a smile. “Then again, he looks inj—”

  “How do you know so much about us?” Gella interrupted him.

  The man pointed at one of the shelves. “Head Priest Alexander has handed me an information cube. An amazing artifact, really. I have been studying it for over a month now. I almost blew half my fuses once I figured out how to interface it with my systems. It last belonged to David Rivera here, but in fact predates him by many, many millennia.” He took another small bow, in David’s direction this time. “Thank you, my friend. You have added to mankind’s collective knowledge much more than you realize.” He pointed at a shelf. “I also have this of yours.”

  David’s gaze followed the man’s finger. It caught on a dusty silver amulet. “Is this…” David’s cheeks burned as his eyes shot at Cyrus, whose face turned white as fresh snow.

  “The angels’ footstep, I believe you call it.” Awe filled the Librarian’s voice. “Remarkable. Looks like a mere trinket, but the technology inside—”

  “Never mind that,” Cyrus hissed, cutting him off. “You were saying?”

  “Ah, yes. As I was explaining, I am an avatar. A visible form that humans find it easy to interact with. In fact, I am the ship’s AI.” He glanced at them and stifled a sigh. “Artificial Intelligence?” He pursed his lips, making him look like a scolding teacher. “Imagine a book you can talk to. Like an e-lib, but it answers back and is shaped like a man.”

  “What is this place?” David asked.

  “A storage room. Croix was the first to explore the caves below the Capital. He used it to store the survivors’ e-libs. As the years passed, various groups added to the artifacts. They mostly contain technology that was deemed dangerous.”

  “So you know stuff,” Cyrus said with a pained groan. “That’s good. Perhaps you can help.”


  The man straightened his back. “That’s what I’m built to do.”

  “We’re sick,” David said, throwing a worried look at Gella. “Can you cure us?”

  The Librarian moved closer and walked around Gella, studying her with curiosity. “The priests have been injecting you with a red liquid?”

  “Yes,” she murmured. “What is it?”

  The Librarian nodded and clasped his hands behind his back. “It changes a human’s morphic fields.”

  Gella groaned in frustration. “English, please.”

  “Our bodies constantly die and are reborn. Every cell, every organ in you has already gone through a number of these cycles. A morphic field is what makes sure that every cell goes where it is supposed to. Think of it as a template for your body, a scaffolding for your cells. It will—”

  “Never mind all that,” Cyrus cut him off with a sharp motion. “Just tell us what the red stuff does.”

  “It contains soul crystal—a unique, marvelous material. Never has humanity encountered another quite like it. In fact—”

  “What does it do?” Sebastian asked.

  If the Librarian was offended by the interruptions, he did not show it. “It absorbs all kinds of energy, including psychic. In a sense, it does what the name implies. It captures a soul.”

  “Impossible,” Cyrus hissed.

  The Librarian lowered his head and peered at Cyrus over his glasses. “Not at all, my young ruler. It’s been here for countless millennia. Some even thought it sentient.”

  Cyrus rubbed his left arm with his right hand, as if to warm himself. “Alexander used it against us. If it’s sentient, it’s one cruel bastard.”

  Next to David, Gella shuddered. He placed his arm around her shoulder. At first she stiffened under his touch, then she relaxed and leaned against his chest, letting him carry her weight.

  “My own research indicates it absorbs the personality of anyone coming in touch with it. Whether this makes it sentient per se is open to debate.”

  “Can anyone control it?” Sebastian asked.

  “A piece of it seems to act as a control device,” the Librarian said. “It resembles an eye. The natives kept it on a staff. When High Priest of Themis Alexander found it, he placed it on an amulet he keeps on him at all times.” The Librarian pursed his lips. “If there’s another way to control it, I’m unaware of it.”

  “What was its original use?” David asked.

  “As part of their religion, the natives of this planet worshipped their ancestors. The crystal preserved the souls of the wisest of their rulers. But its very last use was to punish the man responsible for the death of their planet. The man they call the Architect.”

  Cyrus’s expression slid into a frown. “Who’s the Architect?”

  “When humanity first reached this planet, over a hundred thousand years ago, a team was sent to ascertain that it was devoid of sentient life. When that team reported to have found life, they asked that the terraforming be stopped immediately. The project leader ignored them and let a meteor crash on the planet, thus dooming its inhabitants.” He took his glasses in his hands and closed his eyes, as if reliving the story he was telling. “Two groups of natives survived. One of them became the Iotas. They have survived to this day. The other group consisted of the keepers of the soul crystal; the high priests, if you will. They captured the Architect and fed him to the crystal.”

  “I don’t understand,” David said, confusion marring his face. “Didn’t you say it was used in their religion? Why would they take the Architect there?”

  “Think of the crystal as a Heaven, of sorts, storing the personalities of the wisest of the natives. Once the Architect entered it, the souls already there hated him with such a passion, that the entire crystal became a focal point for the revulsion of the entire planet. They forced the Architect, or whatever remained of his soul, to relive his crime over and over again. Every time he did, his guilt created a sceptomorph.”

  “A what?” Cyrus asked, his brow creasing further.

  “Thought given form. We create them all the time, but rarely of this magnitude. The soul crystal intensifies emotions to create corrupting entities of darkness.”

  “The Whispers,” Cyrus hissed, his face draining of color.

  “Whispers to you. Servants of Themis to Head Priest Alexander. Whatever you call them, they are born out of hate for humanity and have no other wish than to see it suffer.”

  That would make them into the thousands! “And more are born all the time?” David asked, his jaw slackening.

  “Yes.”

  “What is born can also die,” Gella said. “Don’t they die out eventually?”

  “They did at first, yes. Then they realized they could feed Orbs to the soul crystal. This released enough energy to sustain the Whispers for centuries.”

  They feed on Orbs? Parad’s voice in David’s head sounded as shocked as David felt.

  Acid rose to David’s mouth. That’s why Mike wanted to capture the Voice.

  “What if we destroy the soul crystal?” Gella asked. “Will they die then?”

  The Librarian cocked his head in thought. “The older ones should die almost immediately,” he said after a while. “The younger ones may take longer. Unless they come across another soul crystal and feed more Orbs to that. But nowhere in my research have I come across another instance of such a material.”

  “That settles it, then,” Gella said. “We destroy the damned crystal and rid the planet from the Whispers once and for all.”

  “And how do you propose we do that?” Sebastian snapped at her. “In case you haven’t noticed, I can barely walk, and you’re all dying.”

  “If you do manage to destroy the main body of the crystal, your symptoms should vanish pretty fast,” the Librarian said. “You haven’t been poisoned long enough for it to take hold in you. In a sense, this is the cure you’re looking for. It’s a strange substance you’ve been injected with. Highly contagious, yet it attacks the soul rather than the body and that takes time.”

  “How do we know we can trust him?” Sebastian asked, his hand still resting on his rod.

  The Librarian’s face took a hurt expression. “I only exist to provide information. Why would I lie to you?”

  “I think we can trust him,” David said. “What he says makes sense. But how can we destroy the crystal?”

  “That’s the thing,” the Librarian said and crossed his hands. “You can’t. As far as I can tell, it absorbs any kind of energy. That makes it impervious to energy weapons.” He pointed to Sebastian’s rod. “Your weapons would only make it stronger, I’m afraid.”

  “How about we break it?” Gella asked.

  “Even if you had enough time to chip away a material the hardness of diamond and the size of a cavern, any contact with it would be lethal. Even the tiniest shard would absorb your soul. It took countless experiments to develop a liquid form that wouldn’t kill you when injected.”

  “Even so, we must try,” Gella insisted. “How long would it take?”

  “Longer than you have, I’m afraid,” the Librarian said. “My sensors indicate that your pursuers are just outside the door. They are led by Head Priest Alexander himself.”

  Loud bangs echoed in the room. “Open up,” Alexander’s voice ordered. “In the name of Themis, open this door.”

  “Crap,” Cyrus hissed.

  “Quite so,” the Librarian agreed, nodding.

  Fennel Bay

  Satori

  Behind the thin Anthean center, Satori was shouting orders to her attendants. Ensigns raised and dropped flags to convey her will, while sure-footed heralds sprinted along the lines, passing on commands. When the noise rendered them useless, horns took their place. Beside her, lieutenants took care that none of the soldiers deserted or were left behind.

  Through the thick sandy cloud raised by the combatants, she spotted immediately the danger posed by the inability of the Anthean center to break through. Flags to
her left and right told a different story: the flanks were successful in routing the enemy. They were asking for permission to pursue the Capitolians to their ships.

  “Tell them no,” she shouted to the ensign next to her. “We’ll do it as planned.”

  He raised the flag, awaiting further instructions.

  “Tell them to ignore the retreating Capitolians. Have them attack their center as soon as we retreat. If we play this right, we will surround them.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The ensign raised one flag after another. Horns blasted commands.

  Under the onslaught of the Capitolian center, the Antheans started retreating. She stepped backward, her heart pounding. This is it! But we’re running out of time.

  She turned to her second-in-command, a burly man with a thick beard. “You have your orders. It’s a tactical retreat. You spot anyone running, have their skin. This is our only chance.”

  He frowned. “What about you?”

  She patted her uniform, feeling the reassuring stiffness of Richard’s suit underneath. “It’s time for this soldier to enter the fray.” All I have to do is wear my helmet when no one’s watching.

  The Capital

  Cyrus

  Sebastian unsheathed his rod and faced the door. “Can they breach it?”

  “The door has been built from material designed to withstand a sun’s heat,” the Librarian said, looking offended by the suggestion. “However, my programming requires that I obey the Head Priest’s command.”

  “Why haven’t you done so already?” David asked.

  “I obey Asimov’s three laws. The extended version, of course. Opening the door will put both you and them in danger. I can’t just let you kill each other.”

  “A conundrum, then,” David said.

  “Not really. I will open the door as soon as you have left this area.”

  Cyrus threw him a surprised glance. “There is another way out?”

  “Of course. It’s at the far end of the room.”

  “Where does it lead?” Gella asked.