He Who Crosses Death (Star Warrior Quadrilogy Book 3)

by Isaac Hooke

  “You would have only succeeded in exhausting yourself,” Sinive said.

  “Maybe,” Tane said. “But still, I should have. I’ve been avoiding parting the veil. The Emerald is…”

  Sinive knelt beside him and once more placed her hand around his. “You can do this.”

  Tane nodded slowly. But he still hesitated. She doesn’t know how difficult the coming fight will be. She doesn’t understand.

  “Okay,” Gia said. Her eyes were defocused, as if she were inside her chip. “The TSN is instructing us to vacate the vessel immediately. They’ve surrounded the Mosaic in a perimeter of mechs and scepter robots. Muse counts a hundred and ten of them.”

  Tane regarded the bone crown intensely one final time.

  Where are you? Why haven’t you shown yourself?

  No answer came.

  Reluctantly, he set the item down upon his troubled brow.

  The fight for control began immediately. He could feel the grazer trying to dominate him. Its will seemed stronger than before, as if the last times he had parted the veil, it had been holding back, perhaps trying to assuage the strength of Tane’s own willpower, and this time it had finally decided to fight with everything it had. Perhaps it sensed the utter desperation inside of him, and now, in this moment of need, it had decided to thwart him.

  The crown seemed to press into his skull as if it had turned into a giant maw.

  Tane saw the grazer then, its body floating above him, visible to his eyes alone. The outskirts of its translucent flesh overlapped the surrounding bulkheads and overhead, so that most of its body was lost behind the cockpit’s frame. But its head and neck were completely visible. And its mouth was wrapped firmly around his skull, squeezing.

  There you are, my friend, Tane thought grimly. Let’s begin our dance, shall we?

  In answer, the grazer continued to tighten those jaws, crushing his brain.

  He tried frantically to part the veil to the Emerald that waited beyond, but the grazer wouldn’t let him through. The pain began to build. His face and head pulsed agonizingly with every heartbeat.

  He fought it, but it was no use. His head might as well have been in a vise, and in moments his mind would ooze through the cracked bones of his skull like so much red and gray paste.

  He screamed.

  Tane was led, staggering, from the ship. Sinive and Gia held him up—the pair had planted their shoulders beneath his underarms, so that the crooks of his elbows were slung across their necks. Positron, Nebb, and Chase led the way, their hands held behind their heads. The rifles, laser turrets and missile launchers of the scepters and mechs ringing the Mosaic followed each party member as they stepped down the ramp and onto the landing platform.

  When Tane reached the bottom of the ramp, one of the surrounding scepters came forward.

  “What’s wrong with him?” the robot said.

  “He tried to do something that was beyond his reach,” Sinive said. “He failed.”

  The robot beckoned to others behind it. More scepters came forward, and they promptly attached multiple Restrainers to Tane’s bare forehead. He staggered further under the weariness, and two robots replaced Sinive and Gia. The scepters bound his hands behind his back, and propped him up by the elbows, sharing them between their metal arms. His storage pouch was taken away. One of the robots injected Tane with something, only furthering his distance from reality. He was no longer able to stand on his own feet at all, and the robots literally dragged him forward.

  “You’re killing him!” Sinive said.

  Several scepters surrounded her and the remaining members of the party: the robots took away their storage pouches and weapons, and bound their hands behind their backs with energy nets like Tane before leading them forward. The robots ensured at least two armed scepters separated them from one another at all times.

  As the party and their robot escort passed beyond the ring of mechs, Essence warriors fell into step alongside them, and Mancers. No medical robots were with them: they didn’t bother to chip Tane this time—they had seen how futile their chipping attempts had been in the past. That meant they didn’t yet know Repel Nanotech lasted only sixty seconds. They simply assumed he was immune to the effects, when in truth they could chip him at any time and take complete and irrevocable control of his mind. This despite the fact the TSN had undoubtedly captured a full imprint of his mind the last time he was in their custody. Eventually they would finish sifting through and rebuilding his engrams enough to extract the knowledge regarding Repel Nanotech, but until then, he held at least that small advantage over them.

  An Essence warrior pulled in front of the others to take the lead. He wore a helmet with a golden plume that fell to the nape of his neck.

  Tane was guided across the platform, through the outbuildings, and up the steps leading to the magnificent palace. Multiple stone columns formed the entablature; the frieze and cornice were decorated in silver and gold, while the columns themselves were fronted by paintings, most depicting the military might of the TSN: starships, mechs, and armed scepters were common themes.

  Tane was led inside, through a marble entrance hall that contained busts of the previous Paramount Leaders. There were also tapestries, and more paintings. Tane crossed an inner courtyard lined with trees and two fountains. The place definitely had the feel of a vacation palace.

  He was taken inside a cavernous reception hall. No, not a reception hall… a throne room. He could literally see the seat of power lurking on the far side.

  A red carpet led down the center of the room, with black-veined marble columns lining it upon either side. The vaulted ceiling had painted mosaics intermingled between different skylights.

  Men in formal jackets and women in evening gowns lingered against the far walls, watching, waiting. Courtiers, most likely.

  An expectant silence seemed to settle over that gathered throng as Tane was dragged inside. Because of the carpet, and perhaps other sound dampening technology, that silence was only enhanced, with the footsteps of Tane’s escort and that of his companions muted as they approached.

  Armed guards stood between the columns, separating Tane from the courtiers. A different contingent harbored in each of the gaps: Essence warriors alternated with Mancers and scepter robots.

  Tane approached the throne. Presumably that was the Paramount Leader he saw seated there. On either side of said leader were two Volurs, one male, one female, Chrysalium accessories bedecking them in excess: their fingers were sheathed in silver rings, multiple necklaces weighed down their throats, and they carried silver scepters in either hand. They also wore armored robes and shield generators.

  They were flanked by two menacing-looking mechs. And those in turn were flanked by Essence warriors and Mancers.

  Behind the throne, to the left and right, were two scepter robots. And on the right side of them stood Nelson and a woman Tane had never seen before. She was dressed in military fatigues like Nelson, but her face was too perfect to be human. Synthetic, then. Tane thought she outranked the man. He ID’d her:

  Name: Brizan

  Race: Robot (synthetic)

  Level: 26

  Class: Personal Assistant to Alric Graim Maelbane, Thorran Star Navy

  Weaponry:

  1x B1 Plasma Pistol, Biter model.

  Shielding: Energy. (75/75)

  Base Armor rating: 75

  Total armor rating (including shielding): 150

  Certainly well-equipped for a personal assistant.

  Tane and his military escort came to a halt five meters from the throne.

  The Essence warrior wearing the golden plume on his helmet stepped forward and beckoned toward Tane. “Great Leader. The prisoner.”

  “Bring him forward,” the Paramount Leader intoned. His voice was deep, seeming sourced from an almost inhuman throat. No doubt modified by some hidden tone generator.

  The golden-plumed warrior glanced at the robots surrounding Tane. “Bring him.”

&nbs
p; The scepter escort parted, and the two that held Tane carried him forward.

  They deposited Tane kneeling on the floor three meters in front of the throne. That was as close as they were going to allow him to get, apparently. The two robots remained standing on either side of Tane, obviously guarding.

  Bowing, barely able to keep his head upright, Tane saw a small black object on the floor in front of and to the right of the throne: blue pulses traveled up and down its length. He realized that was likely yet another shield generator, enclosing the entire front portion of the room in an energy field, in addition to the personal generators the Paramount Leader and those around him wore.

  “Look at me,” the Paramount Leader commanded.

  Tane drunkenly forced his head to rise.

  The first thing Tane saw were the black boots, polished to such a sheen that Tane could see the outline of his reflection in them. Above that was a ceremonial uniform: crisp white pants, shirt, and jacket, with medals and other decorations over the left breast. If Tane had had his augmented reality interface active, he would have probably witnessed more such decorations on the digital band.

  Rubies tipped the armrests on either side of the throne, and the Paramount Leader’s hands rested upon them. The man wore a single signet ring on his right index finger, a ring with the ship and dagger symbol of the TSN carved into it.

  At the collar, a cape flowed down underneath the body, sheathing the padded cushions of the throne the Paramount Leader sat upon.

  His face was weathered, with hard lines delineating the jaw and brow. His nose jutted forth like a hawk’s, and behind it were cruel, calculating eyes. A strong man, one not to be trifled with.

  A black crown rested low on his brow, the ship and dagger symbol of the TSN glowing in blue near the front. Strands of gray hair bristled from beneath the edges.

  He looked very much like what Tane would have imagined. And imagination was all Tane really had before this, because despite all of his searching on the Galnet beforehand, he had been unable to come up with any videos or pictures of the Paramount Leader. The monitoring AIs employed by the TSN deleted any such media the moment it cropped up online. He hadn’t even found anything on the Dark Galnet, so that Tane had almost begun to believe that the Paramount Leader was a fiction.

  Tane ran an ID on the man.

  Name: Alric Graim Maelbane

  Race: Human

  Level: 32

  Class: Supreme Paramount Leader, Thorran Star Navy

  Weaponry: None

  Shielding: Energy. (145/145)

  Base Armor rating: 50

  Total armor rating (including shielding): 195

  Tane didn’t know if that level was faked, or real, but given that the man was Paramount Leader, he suspected it was accurate. It was the second highest level Tane had ever seen. And that total armor was certainly the highest he’d ever witnessed. Tane was somewhat surprised by the base armor rating as well: either the ceremonial uniform was woven with special carbon-fiber threads, or the Paramount Leader wore hidden plates underneath. Or maybe that rating was faked, too.

  “So this is the great Bender of Worlds,” the Paramount Leader said in his modified voice. “Kneeling before the most powerful man in the galaxy. As is only right. The Thorran Star Navy welcomes you.”

  Tane remained silent.

  “My subordinates tell me you can’t be chipped,” the man, Alric, continued. “This presents an interesting conundrum. If I cannot control you, you are of little use to me. Will you willingly follow me?”

  Again, Tane did not answer.

  The Paramount Leader forced a weak smile. “I thought as much. Why did you come here? What did you hope to gain? I held no leverage over you.”

  Tane held his tongue a third time.

  Alric glanced over his shoulder, in the direction of Nelson and Brizan, the synthetic. “Are you sure you didn’t damage his mind when you chipped him?”

  “His medical reports showed his mind as intact at the time,” Nelson said. “Though it’s possible his neural tissue has degraded since then.”

  “I want him taken to the Alcove and scanned immediately,” Alric said. “And then—”

  “I was tired…” Tane interrupted.

  The Paramount Leader tilted his head toward Tane. “Say again?”

  “I was tired of running,” Tane said, defeated.

  “Well, you won’t have to run anymore,” the Paramount Leader said. “In fact, you won’t be doing much of anything.” He turned his head toward the synthetic behind him. “I want him placed in stasis indefinitely. Until I decide what to do with him, he is to be kept under the highest possible guard. Is that clear?”

  “Very much so,” Brizan said.

  “You are in league with the creodenti,” Tane said.

  Alric turned his head toward Tane. “Excuse me?” When Tane didn’t answer, the Paramount Leader glanced at the Volur to his right. “What is he talking about?”

  “I believe he is referring to a long extinct alien species,” the Volur said.

  Alric raised an eyebrow. “I’m in league with an extinct alien species? Well, I believe I’ve heard enough. It’s obvious the so-called World Bender is not quite all there. Now the lot of you understand why it was so important that we tracked him down. Why we put the entire resources of the star navy behind his capture: we couldn’t let someone of his immense powers remain at large, not when his mind was gone. Take him to the Alcove.”

  “And yet despite all the resources at your command, you only captured me because I willingly surrendered,” Tane said.

  “You knew the noose was tightening,” the Paramount Leader said. “You knew it was only a matter of time. That is why you surrendered. But I’m done with you.” He waved a dismissive hand.

  The scepters hoisted Tane to his feet.

  Tane spasmed suddenly, and began to froth at the mouth.

  The other combat robots surrounded Tane and pointed their rifles at him.

  Tane continued spasming wildly, and then collapsed in the arms of the robots.

  “Get the medic!” Nelson shouted. He hurried forward and parted the ranks.

  A medical robot appeared and rolled toward Tane. It extended a telescoping arm and lifted one of his eyelids. A bright light flashed from the tip of the appendage.

  “He’s dead,” the robot announced.

  Gasps passed throughout the room.

  “No!” Sinive shouted. She tried to break free of her captors, but the robots held on tightly. “Let me go to him!”

  But the scepters refused.

  The medical robot retrieved a small object from the side of Tane’s neck. “He was struck with this. A small dart containing a concentrated dosage of sodium cyanide. Someone in this room is responsible for his death.”

  Sinive slumped. “No. It can’t be true. I don’t believe it.” She struggled again for a moment, then ceased. She couldn’t break free of the vise-like grips of the robots that held her.

  The Essence warrior with the golden plume walked from the scene, threading between the Mancers who stood guard between two pillars on the left flank of the hall. All eyes followed him as he approached a small man who lingered among the courtiers there.

  The man in question was dressed in formal attire like the others, but was otherwise extremely ordinary looking: he wouldn’t have stood out in a crowd. He was so average, in fact, that if the surrounding courtiers were asked to recall his face a day later, they would have been hard-pressed to give a description, and would have had to delve into any video archives their chips stored in order to produce anything tenable.

  Four big Mancers stepped forward to stand beside the small man—no doubt they were part of a retinue of private guards employed by that particular courtier. They regarded the plumed Essence warrior with dangerous eyes.

  But before those Mancers could do anything, the Essence warrior placed a hand on the courtier’s shoulder and the two vanished from existence entirely.

  27 />
  The throne room darkened, becoming tinted the deep blue of the Umbra, and all the soldiers, courtiers, and robots vanished. Only two men remained.

  Tane stood next to the far wall, towering over the small man. The bone crown weighed heavily on his brow. Green bolts of lightning shot back and forth all around him. The Emerald sparked across his nervous system, filling him with a bliss that was distracting.

  Tane dropped the illusion with which he clothed himself, so that he no longer appeared as the Essence warrior with the golden plume. The original warrior lay unconscious outside, thanks to the surreptitious injection Tane had made before replacing him.

  “Where have you taken me?” the small man said. He held both of his hands balled into fists at his sides.

  “To the Umbra,” Tane said.

  “But you don’t have that ability yet,” the man said. “You’re too low level.”

  Tane nodded. Lyra would have told them about the level seven Essencework while she was under the TSN’s control.

  “Oh but I do have the ability,” Tane said. “I’ve been busy since I last encountered your minions. I’m level seven in Dark and White mixing.”

  “Impossible,” the man said.

  “I assure you, it’s completely possible,” Tane told him.

  “How did you know?” the man asked.

  “That you were the Paramount Leader, and not the decoy you installed on your throne?” Tane replied. “You made a mistake by letting the rest of my team come with me. We have a pretty good hacker among our members. She tracked all the encrypted communications sent by the different security forces you had deployed around the throne room, and using the chips of my remaining companions she was able to triangulate the source. One man resided at the center of all those communications, and it wasn’t the man seated on the throne, but a man standing on the sidelines, the true Paramount Leader, cowering in the presence of the Bender of Worlds, too afraid to show himself.”

  The Paramount Leader hissed something and then opened his hand. A small rock dropped from his palm onto the floor.