“And you believe he can see the future?” Mary asked.
“I don’t know, but he’s been doing this for eons, and from these records, he’s predicted some incredibly detailed occurrences. He projected the destruction of Doyotar star to the decade, as well as the war fought for two hundred years in the Varus system. I can’t say how much credibility to give Ovalax, but he may be the real thing,” Karo said.
“Still nothing on his origin, though,” Baru grumbled. Father and son beside one another was like looking at a time warp. Karo was extremely old, but because of the task given to him by his predecessors, he was blessed to resemble forty for the rest of his life.
“I’ve seen references to that.” Dean scrolled through his notes. “There have been a few mentions of an appearance, but they’re obtuse, likely altered to suit the writer’s motives.” He pointed at the screen and read the descriptions. “Powerful, unlike any creature in existence. Translucent skin, wings the span of a galaxy. Okay, here’s another. Ovalax is not definable, but for his imprint on our minds. He is, for lack of a better option, an inhabitant of time and space.”
“What the heck does that mean?” Hugo asked.
“Beats me,” Jules told him. “Anything else, Dean?”
“The Sect of Memories is but a mirror of our leader. For Ovalax has one hundred heads, one hundred minds, one hundred souls. That’s from a Motrill artist.” Dean flipped the tablet and showed them a painting. The being had long tentacles like a nest of vipers and dozens of various faces, each depicting a mind he’d devoured.
Jules shuddered at the image. “But the key is, no one actually seems to know. We have all sorts of descriptions. What do we know about the Sovan?”
Karo shrugged as he set his tablet on the table. “We’ve struggled through Regnig’s journals, but I think the Sovan were the first beings to discover Ovalax.”
“Discover or create?” Mary’s question brought a whole series of ideas to Jules.
“You think they could have made him?” Jules was intrigued.
“Regnig said the Sovan were quite advanced, and judging by the notes, they detailed a program or device that could absorb memories. What if they used this to create a god?” Karo asked. Suma had described the technology in a similar manner, but not the second part.
“We have to visit their world. See what we can learn,” Jules told them.
Her mom shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Not to mention the mess you have at the Institute. It’s your responsibility to bring Outpost home.”
“We can do that after. We might not have a lot of time, and Papa needs our help. So does Regnig.” Jules wondered if this would work with her mom. Magnus might be willing to let her act as captain, but he hadn’t raised her.
Mary glanced at Karo, then at Dean. “What do you think, Karo? Could you travel with them to Duliv, the Sovan world?”
Jules noted the slight nod of Ableen’s head, and Karo agreed. “Sure. I could use a stretch of my legs after an uneventful year on Haven, and I want Regnig back home as much as anyone. I miss my weekly dinner with the old bird.”
“Then it’s settled. Let’s leave now,” Dean chimed.
Jules watched as her mom received a message on her tablet, and the color drained from her cheeks.
“There’s an issue,” Mary groaned.
“What is it?” Dean asked.
“It’s the Institute. The Emperor is demanding to see his son.”
Eighteen
“Everyone relax!” I shouted as I jogged between the opposing forces. Sergo joined me, nervously staring down the barrels of two dozen guns.
“Who are you?” the Emperor barked.
“That’s Dean Parker.” Magnus’ voice boomed from somewhere behind me, and I watched him press through the Institute soldiers. “Would you mind getting your people to stand down?”
The Emperor looked at me, then Magnus, and bellowed in his own language. The people hesitantly lowered their weapons, and so did Magnus. Darem and Neemi stood on either side of me, as if to protect me from harm. I appreciated the gesture.
“Will someone explain what’s going on?” I demanded.
Magnus ordered his soldiers to return to their tasks and spoke in a quiet voice. “Emperor, Dean, we have a matter of extreme urgency, and we’re in the middle of flushing it out. Would you mind not making a big show? This may have already scared them off.”
“Scared who off?” Emperor Bastion asked. He was old and bent, but still held power behind that voice.
“The Sect is here. I assume you knew that?” Magnus asked.
“You know about the Sect?” I couldn’t wait to hear what had transpired in my absence.
“You do? When did this happen? Never mind… let’s go to my office so we can speak privately.” Magnus waited while the Emperor stared blankly at us.
“Where is my son?” he finally asked.
Magnus peered around, as if seeking onlookers. “I promise I’ll fill you in, but we can’t do this here.”
“Fine. Go to the barracks,” Bastion ordered his men. “Say nothing of our agenda. We’re only interested in how the Gretiol are managing their first week.”
“Yes, your Eminence,” a female soldier said, and they marched off.
“Magnus, can my friends be fed and given a change of clothing? Maybe a bed and a shower?”
Are you certain you do not wish for our assistance? Kallig asked. I glanced at the hot red sun, knowing he’d overheat under all those feathers at Terran Thirty.
Magnus waved a man closer, a Bhlat officer in a white uniform, and he smiled at them, bringing us to the officer residences.
“Dean Parker, I wish we could have met under different circumstances. Your wife advised us you were away on important business.” The Emperor’s cape waved in the breeze as we hurried toward the simulation building. Two of his guards accompanied us, walking behind their leader.
“I’m searching for a friend, and I have a feeling you’re linked to this. I just don’t know exactly how yet,” I said.
“Magnus, what’s this urgent matter you mentioned?” Sergo asked as we entered Magnus’ office. The Emperor’s guards remained outside the doors. Cool air blew through the vents, and we each grabbed a chair at the round table.
“Emperor, we took Outpost for a test run, and Malir joined us. He and Jules seemed to hit it off, and he’d decided to stay for the duration of his training,” Magnus said.
“He was supposed to return. I had a feeling he’d do something foolish,” Emperor Bastion said, setting his cane against the wall.
“What happened? Is Jules okay?” I blurted.
“Jules is fine.” Magnus described what had occurred. Outpost’s wormhole generator had been tampered with, sending them into a trap. Eight Wibox Runners had formed against them, and they’d managed to breach security. “They busted onto the bridge, gassed us, and took Malir.”
Emperor Bastion sighed, a mournful noise. “I suppose you know of the arrangement now?”
I met Magnus’ gaze, and he went ahead. “I think we’ve only scratched the surface.”
“I happened to speak to the one known as Xanz,” I told them.
Bastion gasped at me as if I’d invoked an evil spirit by naming it. “How is that possible? We were told he was dead.”
“Not dead. Imprisoned. He informed me how widespread the Sect of Memories ran, including the Gretiol. You’re each to make a sacrifice, once every century,” I said. “Am I close?”
“That is accurate.”
“Tell us,” I said softly.
“Emperor Bastion the First reigned five centuries ago. He was a believer that the Gretiol could be a dominant people, far beyond our limited existence on our planet. It is said that Xanz himself was a speaker for Ovalax, and that the creature kept him alive beyond his years. He promised hints of what was to come. Ways for the Gretiol Emperor to avoid droughts, to prepare for invasions, to rise in power by foretelling the future. Bastion the Firs
t was a greedy man, subject to fears of upheaval. My ancestor accepted the barter, and thusly joined the Sect.
“It was said he made the initial sacrifice of his most trusted advisor and confidante, showing his commitment. From then on, the Emperor in power would, once a century, select a valued sacrifice.”
“Until Manria was saved from the Wibox ship by a Toquil named Regnig.” I was beginning to see the whole picture.
“That’s right. How did you—”
“The Wibox are responsible for bringing the sacrifices?” Magnus asked.
“Ovalax gave them the honored role, though I presume it was more likely Xanz that decided their function in the Sect. Once a year, they travel to the Sect member worlds, pick up the sacrifices, and offer them to Ovalax on Newei,” Emperor Bastion said.
“And it’s two hundred years later. Your turn again.” Sergo leaned onto the chair’s rear legs and almost toppled over. He caught himself and lowered to the ground.
“I tried to convince them it was unnecessary. Ovalax doesn’t share predictions any longer, yet the Wibox continue the sacrifices. It is why we despise them,” Bastion said.
Magnus rose, walking to his desk. “Have you tried to fight?”
“It is no use. One hundred members are too strong. We thought that by joining the Alliance, we might find a means to break the cycle, but…”
“Malir was taken anyway. Okay, what was your plan, Magnus?” Someone knocked on the door, and I went to answer it. Suma entered, and she jumped at finding me.
“Dean?” Her gaze drifted to the Emperor, then Sergo, and she slid the door closed behind her. “Should I come back?”
“No, have a seat.” Magnus pointed to his vacant chair. “You should hear this. Suma and I have been working to track the comm-lines of any Sect moles, and we think we have it. We’re going to issue orders to them, directing any spies a kilometer out from the Institute, in the old abandoned mines. We figured it was useful to identify them all at once and deal with them afterwards.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, not liking his tone.
Magnus sat on the edge of his desk. “Not what you think. We’ll keep them in cells for now, until the Board decides what we should do next.”
Suma’s snout lifted and fell as she retrieved her tablet. “I have it prepared. Ready to send the encrypted message with the timeline on your word.”
Magnus looked at me. “It’s your show out here, Mag. Make the call,” I advised him.
“Fine. Send it,” he said.
Suma tapped the screen. “Done.”
“How will we bring Malir home?” Emperor Bastion asked. “I may be a fool, but I’d sooner suffer the wrath of the Sect than that of my wife.”
I pondered the dilemma. “We have almost a week before Regnig is scheduled to arrive on Newei with Fronez.”
“Fronez. The Shimmali?” Emperor Bastion asked.
“One and the same.”
“He’s involved? I was under the impression he’d been kicked out of the Sect,” the Gretiol leader said.
“For what?”
“Something that goes against the Sect’s protective rights over Ovalax. It was much the same as the Sovan.”
“What about the Sovan?” Suma asked.
“They tried to create a tool to duplicate Ovalax’s memory absorption. They wanted their own digital oracle, and the Sect found out.” Bastion reached for his cane, using it to stand.
“What did they do to the Sovan?” I could guess but wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth.
“They killed them. It was Ovalax’s command.” He wobbled on his feet, and I reached out, supporting him.
Sergo blanched. “That’s what Fronez was doing when I first brought him to Mount Carve. He was trying to build the same thing, until I stole his plans.”
“He must have started again.” I rose, and someone else arrived at the office. I could hear the guards through the panels, and I opened the door, finding Mary.
“Dean!” She dashed into my arms, and I hugged her tightly. After the last few weeks, she was a welcome sight. She felt like home as I held her.
“Where’s Jules and Hugo?” I asked.
“On Haven. Well, Hugo’s with Ableen. Jules, Dean, and Karo left.” Mary and I shared a knowing glance, and I prepared for the news.
“Where did they go?”
“Duliv. The Sovans’ home planet.”
“What for?” I asked.
“They’re trying to understand Ovalax. Have you heard of him?” Mary’s brow scrunched up.
“More than I care to admit. I should join their mission,” I told her, but she shook her head.
“They can handle it,” she said.
“We have some work to do, Dean. We need make a list of who’s leading the Sect these days and end their institution. We won’t allow the sacrifices to continue.” Magnus was right.
“Wait a minute,” Suma said. “It’s not our place to stop anyone from doing this of their own free will.”
“Emperor Bastion doesn’t seem to want to give his son to a monster, and I’m certain Malir feels the same way. Fronez is bringing Regnig to the beast as we speak,” I told her, and sensed there was more to it. “Wait. You’re not telling me that Shimmal is involved, that they’re part of this archaic ritual, are you?”
She froze, but her lack of response was answer enough.
“Suma, how could you?” Mary asked her friend.
“I don’t know for certain, but I’ve overheard my father discussing it. You have to see how we’d be a target. This being is in search of the universe’s brightest minds, and Shimmal is the leading planet on education and science—”
“Enough. Nothing you say will make this acceptable in my eyes,” I told her. “I’ll deal with your father later. For now, let’s corral the spies at the Institute and make sure we’re working in the safety of our own trusted ally’s protection.”
“Okay. For what it’s worth, I agree with you,” Suma said, giving me a timid smile.
I put an arm around her shoulders. “I know.”
____________
Regnig knew there was more to Fronez’s conversations than the man was letting on, but he’d managed to hear an awful lot of details about Newei and the life it housed. When he’d questioned its real form, Fronez had suggested Ovalax had elevated beyond the limitations of a physical being, and was likely a conflux of energy, memories, and knowledge.
Regnig tried to picture it, but failed. There were countless cases of energy present outside the visual over the course of history, and Regnig had spent a few years researching and cataloguing that very topic. It was said that planets full of invisible beings existed, who lived, loved, procreated, and died just like most organic races, but instead of dwelling on our temporal plane, they lived elsewhere.
It reminded Regnig of the dimensions Jules had discovered, but almost as if they were trapped between timelines. In truth, the details could have been hypothetical stories written by inquisitive minds from far reaches of the universe. Regardless, the concept fascinated him.
Energy. Crystals. Iskios Vortexes, and Theos escaping their physical shapes, storing their essence inside portals. With those kinds of examples, Regnig’s way of thinking was open to almost anything. If only he was able to ensure his mind wasn’t eaten by the Ovalax.
They flew to Newei and, with each passing day, Regnig grew more curious, yet nervous. Fronez had sold the sacrifice to him like it was a great benefit, but the longer he spoke to the brilliant Shimmali man, the more Regnig was certain he was being deceived.
It had started in small ways, mentioning deals with the Wibox. Anyone that hired those goons to do their bidding was on the wrong side of the law. Not only the law, but ethical boundaries, separating Fronez from Regnig’s alliances.
When he’d inquired about the Wibox, Fronez had told him they were a means to an end. My end, Regnig thought.
Once again, he found himself at the port window, staring into the blacknes
s of space and realizing his heart was full of regrets. Research and knowledge were one thing, but he’d only read of other people’s experiences and had rarely had them for himself.
If I get out of this, I will return home. I will go to Banod, and see what it is I’ve missed. Regnig smiled at the thought but doubted there was a happy ending for himself. Not now.
Regnig decided to stop moping around and grabbed the canes he’d been gifted, using them to seek out Fronez. Perhaps he’d be willing to discuss something different. Regnig was trying to keep the negative thoughts out, and if he could engage in a conversation regarding science or history, that would prove the perfect distraction.
He almost went to get a cup of tea first, but continued on to the bridge. It was empty, but Fronez’s tablet was beside the pilot’s seat. Regnig glanced behind him, confirming he was alone, and hobbled over to the device.
A minute later, he had the most current file open, and he scanned it. This was what Fronez was after? He cringed when he realized what the schematics were suggesting. He was building a tool to wipe someone’s memories. To steal their knowledge, much like the Sovan had attempted. History hadn’t treated them with compassion. They had been killed to prevent this from existing, and here Fronez was, centuries later, trying to duplicate something they’d started.
“Set that down,” Fronez said. He’d entered so quietly, Regnig hadn’t noticed. But then again, his hearing wasn’t what it used to be.
Why would you create something like this?
“You wouldn’t understand.”
Try me.
Fronez darted over, snatching the tablet from his talons. “Ovalax is a unique and incredible being, but he’s not forthcoming. He will not share details as he once did. He hoards the knowledge and keeps it for himself. I will find a way to harness him, and then I will hold the most powerful tool ever created. I will know when every disaster will strike, when any war will begin.”
The Survivors | Book 16 | New Lies Page 17