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The gentle hum of the ship’s engines comforted Regnig as he walked the halls. To his surprise, Fronez had granted him freedom on board the transport vessel. He was being brought to his death after all, but the Shimmali scientist was acting as if it was an honor bestowed upon Regnig. No matter how much Fronez believed this, Regnig did not.
The fear of death had left him ages ago. He was old. His bones constantly ached. His single eye no longer saw clearly, and his back was stooped. Even clutching his cane caused discomfort in his talons. Regnig stood near the port window, watching the stars in the distance, and he wondered about the last time he’d felt young.
But he had a lot to live for. He wasn’t done with his book on the Recaster, and that weighed on his mind. What a silly thing to worry about, but he did. And, of course, Jules. His friend.
Regnig had a lot of time in solitude, and he’d dug himself into a hole, reliving moments of his life, wondering if he’d made poor choices. Being a Toquil had never felt normal to him. He’d grown up privileged, unlike most, but the idea of staying on his homeworld of Banod terrified him.
The memory flashed in his mind as he stared from the ship. He was young, a twelve-year-old Toquil, with wind under his wings and a vitality only a child could muster.
The dignitaries originated from a distant world, a place so foreign, he couldn’t fathom the space between them. The Vennae were a wise race—historians, really—and they’d gone to a lot of effort for the encounter. They’d learned the Toquil tongue, and Regnig’s father had suggested they might have some added cognitive functions, not unlike themselves.
Regnig, then Sager, had followed them for three days, regaled by the tales of space and world traveling. The Vennae claimed great dangers around the universe, and when they invited the Toquil to send a regiment with their ship, to expand and explore, Regnig was soured by the fact that their Regent denied the request.
The Vennae left, and Regnig could still feel the heartbreak as their vessel departed, ascending high into the midday sky. It seemed like gravity increased; his footsteps grew heavier each day, and his mind was dulled by the mundane life all Toquil lived.
Become educated. Find a mate. Hatch your eggs, and repeat. His siblings did this, and Regnig couldn’t understand why everyone was so happy to never venture outside their own four walls. He wanted to fly. He needed to leave Banod.
Jursa was the only light in his dim world, and he clung to her every moment when they met in the capital city’s historian program. Regnig wanted to follow in the Vennae’s footsteps, to learn their history, and eventually contact others in the galaxies. Jursa was the same, seeking answers none of the Toquil seemed concerned with finding.
Regnig paused his memory, scared to go down that path again, but his brain had ideas of its own. He pictured her in his mind: the slim beak, the bright eye, the perfect blue-tinged feather tips. She was the love of his life, but she’d left him for another with power and influence.
Somehow, hundreds of years later, it stung. He decided that day he’d leave and never return. He couldn’t live among these people, with no aspirations beyond what was in front of them.
If only that version of himself would have known the loneliness that was to come. The pain and aches in his bones also ran deep within himself.
Regnig sighed, turning from the window. The moment Dean Parker knocked on his door under Bazarn Five had changed all that.
He smiled at that memory. Dean had been searching for Mary, his pregnant wife. Little unborn Jules, inside her mother while the rage of the Iskios coursed through her. It was like stories from his books, and he was pulled in.
He wondered what was making him dwell on the past, and guessed it was Fronez’s comments that his memories would be eaten by Ovalax. He’d live on inside the beast. Maybe it was an honor. Maybe Ovalax was the ultimate gesture by the universe. His life’s work would be remembered by someone. Fronez had been circumspect about this. He was unpredictable: one second treating Regnig like an equal, the next telling him he’d be a sacrifice.
Regnig hobbled from the room and searched for Fronez. The crew of the ship gave Regnig wide berth, almost considering him a guest instead of a prisoner. It was a far different experience than being captured and held by the Wibox two centuries earlier.
Fronez was on the small bridge, sitting front and center, alone with a tablet in his hands. He was muttering squawks and squeaks while looking over files.
Can we speak? Regnig asked.
Fronez didn’t seem surprised to find him there. “Of course.” He pointed to the seat beside him, and Regnig shook his head. The chair was too high, and he didn’t want to go to the effort of climbing up like a little child.
I prefer to stand. His legs hurt, but he stayed upright anyway. He didn’t have his freedom, or his youth, but he did have his pride.
“Suit yourself. What is it?” Fronez’s eyes narrowed.
Ovalax. Can you explain what he is to me? Regnig was aware of some of the basics but needed more clarification. His text from the Sovan was ancient, and all of these others’ involvement with their god was new and fresh in the course of history.
Fronez smiled and seemed happy, almost euphoric, as he started. “Ovalax is a wonder, a genuine amazement in the universe.”
Regnig listened intently as the man spoke with reverence for the giant mind-eating being.
Seventeen
Xanz watched me, eyes unblinking as I swallowed, trying not to let my fear show.
“This Ovalax sounds lovely. I can’t wait until I meet him,” I mumbled.
“You can joke, human, but he will not take pity on you. Ovalax has targeted you, imprinting well before you ever traveled through space. He’s eaten countless minds, sacrifices donated to his essence since the beginning of time.” Xanz’s voice boomed.
It was farfetched to think that a being on the planet Newei had any sense of who I would become when I was playing on my farm in Ohio. I asked the prisoner in front of me how this was possible.
“When you devour so many lives, you predict certain paths. That’s how it’s explained to me by Ovalax.” Xanz remained standing, his hooves clicking on the metal floor.
“You speak with him?” I asked.
His face contorted into a frown. “I did, but I haven’t been on Newei in some time.” He indicated the cell around him. “As you can see, I’ve been preoccupied.”
I wanted as much information as I could gather, and I sat in the chair. “You must be on Newei to contact your ruler?”
This riled Xanz up. “I am no one’s minion, Dean Parker. Ovalax is my god, not my ruler. I have lived with free will my entire life. He only seeks what is his.”
“And what’s that? What does he think is his right?”
“He sees the future. You still don’t understand?”
And I finally did. He devoured minds so he understood history, to learn about people, and their lives, their races, their dreams. Ovalax ingested them and used the information to understand how things would transpire. It seemed less magical and more like predictive AI than anything.
“I’m beginning to comprehend. How many are sacrificed each year?” I asked.
Xanz finally appeared to relax. “The Sect of Memories contains over a hundred partners. Each must send their best and brightest once a century. The request isn’t too high. He needs one a year.”
I was surprised with how many details he was sharing, and decided to continue pressing. “Only one? That seems fair.” I wanted to get him on my side, to make it feel like I was willing to believe in his god’s mission.
“Ovalax has survived for billions of years and will continue on forever.” Xanz stepped away from the clear barrier, visibly agitated.
“You sound like you’re devoted,” I said.
“I was chapter head of the Sect for Newei, the most honored position of all.”
“What of Newei? I heard it was deserted.”
“That’s correct. At
first, there was a thriving community, but they sought to use Ovalax. They wanted to harness his memories to benefit their own standing.” Xanz sat on a chair, facing me. He was so much larger, like a bull sitting in a cage.
“What did he do to them?” The easy assumption was obvious.
“He ingested their minds.” Xanz was clearly proud of his god’s actions. It didn’t dawn on him that Ovalax could possibly do the same to him. Or maybe that would be a good thing, the ultimate sacrifice from a devoted acolyte.
“All of them?”
The horns bobbed up and down as the prisoner nodded. “He took no pity, and rightfully so. One does not take advantage of their god.”
“What does he look like?” I’d seen nothing yet and pictured a giant mass, writhing and oozing.
“I have never seen him,” Xanz said.
This startled me. “No?”
“Ovalax lives in Newei’s core and will not permit visitation.”
“Is that so?” That changed things. “Why are you so open with my questions?”
“Ovalax foresaw your arrival. He expects you,” Xanz told me. “Why should I not relay the benefits of being his sacrifice? Your people, the humans, will not need to give another for over a century. You are doing the universe a favor by sharing in his knowledge and ensuring no others are lost. It is a fair system.” Gone was his bravado from earlier, when he spoke of melting bones and devoured souls.
“And what happens if I don’t want to be eaten? If I choose to live out my remaining days, instead of sacrificing myself to Ovalax?” I asked.
Xanz stepped forward, his horns clanking against the barrier. Red eyes bored into mine, a stark contrast to his pure white skin. “You have no choice, Dean Parker. You’ve been selected.”
I gulped, unable to stop the fear from creeping back into my nerves. “Is he ever wrong?”
“Never.”
I stayed for a while, discussing the Sect’s history. Despite our initial reaction to one another, by the end of the conversation, Xanz was asking me what was occurring beyond his four walls. Specifically, from the last five decades. He seemed surprised to learn about Earth’s fending off the Kraski, the double agent Deltra, and subsequently, the Bhlat.
“I can understand why Ovalax targeted you. You have done a lot for such an unremarkable creature,” Xanz said as I rose, returning the chair to the side of the space.
“Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Will you proceed to Newei?” Xanz asked, a hint of yearning in his gruff tone.
“I will. Not to give myself to your god, but to save a friend.”
“There will be no altering his mind. You will be eaten. Your memories will live on and guide future generations. Ovalax senses a change coming. He has for centuries, but it’s recently accelerated. With someone like you inside him, I expect he’ll understand far more.” Xanz turned, hooves clicking their way to his bed.
“I appreciate the conversation.” I turned to leave and banged three times on the doors. They opened, and Ave sat waiting, reading a tablet.
She sealed Xanz in again. “How did it go? Learn what you needed?”
“I suppose so.” I understood more about this ancient Sect and their fascination with Ovalax, but since no one had seen the god or could explain how he talked to them, I had more questions than answers.
“Then I’d better take you out.” She started forward, but I had another idea.
“Can you bring me to the Collector?”
“I didn’t think that would be necessary after you met with Xanz,” Ave said.
“I won’t take long.”
We left that area of the prison, only to come across a duplicate underground section a short distance away. “I will unfreeze him,” Ave advised me, using her tablet for a second.
His cell was the third one in, and Ave opened the doors, leaving me to myself.
The place was different than where Xanz was located, with dark walls, a single dim light, and no furniture. A familiar lump lay on the ground, and the Collector’s red wraith form hovered in the upper right corner. A speaker was mounted in the wall beside me, and I wondered how this would go.
“Collector!” I shouted to wake the energy wraith from whatever it called sleep. I wondered if this being dreamed, and whether someone like Ovalax would like to eat him.
The wraith buzzed in agitation, flickering as it lowered. A moment later, the clay golem lying on the floor sprang to life, eerily rising like a puppet on strings.
“Dean Parker, you’ve come to free me,” the voice cried through the speakers. The golem shuffled closer to the barrier. It had no eyes, no fingers, no toes: just a solid lump with arms and legs, and the rough approximation of a head.
“Not exactly. What can you tell me about the Sect of Memories?” I asked.
“I don’t give myself to the fancies of gods and deities.”
“But you’ve heard of them.” It wasn’t a question.
“I have.”
“And the one they worship?”
“If my memory recalls, it’s a substantial creature. Conceivably a planet.” The clay figure raised an arm and let it fall.
Interesting. The Collector remembered Ovalax, but compared him to a planet. “Being a Collector, I thought you might have encountered a similar specimen on your travels. Wasn’t your mission to gather one of each alien race?”
The golem vibrated, and a piece of clay fell to the floor. “Once. I ventured to Newei to seek the being. He tried to enter my mind. The pain was excruciating, and I barely escaped.”
I’d been kidding. “You actually attempted to collect him?”
“I did, but how does one gather a planet?” he asked.
“And you believe this planet is sentient?”
He stopped shaking and turned his head, ever so slowly. “What are you up to?”
I shrugged. “I’m going to stop him.”
“From eating minds? Maybe that daughter of yours could do something, but not you.”
Hearing the Collector mentioning Jules made me uneasy. He wouldn’t know she’d lost her powers a while ago.
“Maybe you’re right. Thanks for the chat.” I went to leave, and he called after me.
“Don’t leave me here. I need to explore. To gather things. We’re the same.” The figure walked closer, bumping into the clear barrier as the red wraith hovered a short distance away.
“You and I are nothing alike.” I left, the large metal door slamming shut behind me.
We returned upstairs and met up with Sergo and the others.
“Everything okay, Parker?” Sergo and our new friends were seated at an outdoor gazebo, drinking yellow beverages. He passed me one, and I clung to the condensation-covered glass, sipping the refreshing liquid.
“I know more about Ovalax and the Sect, and knowledge is a valuable weapon.” I scanned the group, finding everyone in good spirits. I, on the other hand, was slightly shaken after my conversations.
Xanz was convinced I’d be eaten by his god soon, and no matter how disbelieving I felt, it was unsettling.
You look worried, Kallig said. He stared at me with his large eye, and his beak clacked together.
“What’s new? I think I have an idea of what this thing is, but we won’t know until we arrive on Newei. But we’d better make a stop first,” I told them.
Darem finished his drink, the glass small in his giant hand. “Where to?”
“To New Spero. I need to speak with my family and Suma.”
Sergo looked relieved. “Walo will be glad to see me, I hope.”
We finished our beverages, thanked Ave for Traro Belli’s hospitality, and were flown to the portal room. I chose the symbol for New Spero’s Alliance Institute and hit the screen.
We arrived at Terran Thirty, and I was shocked to see the Gretiol troops amassed near the portal. I spotted Emperor Bastion the Seventh and heard his angry threats. His men were armed, and pointing their weapons at a group of Institute soldiers.
“Looks like we’re late for the party,” Sergo whispered.
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A day of research, and Jules was already exhausted. She glanced up from the text, seeing her mom talking with Hugo. She’d come the moment she heard Jules was in the library, and had been a welcome presence. A spread of food lay before them on the table, and Dean was chewing on some carrot sticks while they worked.
“This is unreal,” Dean said.
“I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t read it with my own eyes,” Karo replied.
“Why are they helping this thing? Feeding a nightmare your memories? It’s too much.” Jules didn’t understand the Sect, but the longer they researched it, the deeper they found the group was entrenched. There was evidence of members from almost every single Alliance partner, including Shimmal. They’d sent a message to Suma, but she was occupied with their measures at the Institute on New Spero.
Her mom sat beside her and picked up a book. “We must discuss this with Sarlun and the Empress. If this is a common practice, why haven’t we heard of it before? And what does this have to do with Regnig?”
Karo answered, “It seems the creature feeds for two purposes: intelligence and power. It’s probably why they want Gretiol’s heir. We haven’t found absolute proof, but I think that Ovalax is a seer.”
“What’s a seer?” Hugo asked. His eyes were puffy, and Jules could tell her brother needed some sleep. He’d been so excited to help them research, and she didn’t have the heart to force him to bed.
“Many cultures have them, mostly in the ages before interstellar space travel and science. They are known by many names: prophets, soothsayers, oracles, and diviners,” Karo told the group. Everyone stopped what they were doing to listen to him.
“What’s their purpose?” Baru asked. He’d been quietly at work all day, noting the Sect of Memories on his tablet.
Dean bit into a carrot, reminding Jules to eat. She gathered a few things onto her plate while Karo spoke.
“Mostly they act as intermediaries between the people and their gods or a higher power, telling their people of the future. Often they are parables, warnings from a non-existent being to caution the people of consequences for a certain behavior. On Cindus R47, their population was growing gluttonous, eating far more than the planet’s ecosystem could withstand. Their leaders faked a soothsayer who spread word of demons possessing the crops. It ended with disastrous effects when the people burned the fields, nearly causing the extinction of their species. In this case, I think Ovalax has used the minds of those he’s fed on to accomplish his goals.”
The Survivors | Book 16 | New Lies Page 16