by J Hawk
Ion’s orange eyes lingered over her for a few silent seconds.
“I’m sorry for whatever you’ve been through,” she said. “But just remember what I’ve told you, when you wake up tomorrow and go on with your life. And maybe you’ll find a measure of peace amidst the turmoil … a glimpse of calm amidst the chaos.”
When Vestra left the village, she had the faintest impression that she had given a person something that may have helped them through a tough phase. Her words.
And she was right.
Because Ion was never the same again, and that meeting had left an uneroded mark on him…
8
The present
For the first time in his life, Evander felt completely lost. Helpless. A cold shivering sensation found him as he continued to stare at it. The picture placed on the table before him. The implications of what he saw in the picture cast a reverberating blow across his entire mind. Re defining the world as he knew it.
Evander wiped his brow and took a deep breath, without removing his eyes form what he saw in the picture on the table:
Five cloaked figures.
Standing in the middle of Mech facility’s hall.
Unleashing chaos through their fingertips.
Evander embraced what he was seeing in the picture.
There is no denying what this means…
Evander had served as the head of the Naxim’s high council for almost twenty four years now. And in twenty four years, nothing had ever invoked such dread in him. The picture was their worst fear realised. They were facing a threat from the world’s most deadly enemy: mystics.
Mech facility in the planet Cransof had been subject to a terrorist attack that had left their King and council of advisors dead. And this picture was taken inside of the facility in the middle of the attack. The five cloaked figures were the mystics who were reported to have sieged the facility.
Evander had been rattled when the news reached him. But he knew that before anything, he needed to contain his own panic, and to prevent it from spreading to the other members of the high council: before alerting the other members of the council to this threat, he needed to have it privately discussed with someone first.
“So what’s the plan, sir?” said the only other person in the large board room, seated on the opposite side of the board table.
A fellow member of the high council, Derigor was a bankable source to rely upon for advice. Someone whom Evander trusted for his composure in times of crises. Such as this one.
“I honestly have no idea.” said Evander. “I never dreamt we would be facing something of this scale.”
Derigor looked at the picture on the table before Evander. And a shadow stirred within his eyes.
The man in the centre of the five mystics, clearly their leader, was tall and thin, robed in a black cloak. His hair was as black as ash, covering his face in frames.
Evander looked at Derigor with a stale sigh. “What do you think we should do, Derigor? As the two highest authorities in the Naxim, we ought to put a conscious decision to this testing situation.”
Derigor continued to frown at the picture for a thoughtful second. Then he finally said, “The first and foremost priority for us now, is to find the culprits.” He raised his gaze to Evander. “And quite honestly, I don’t think that’s gonna be easy.”
“It certainly won’t.” Evander agreed. “And there isn’t a place we can start with.” The five lethal mystics responsible for this gruesome attack are currently strolling free among us in the spectrum … And they could be literally anywhere.
“If this threat arises again … and these mystics re surface for another attack,” Derigor paused for a grave moment. “Then we’ll have to call a full fledged meeting of the high council. We’ll have to accept that the worst is upon us… and act accordingly.”
Evander nodded gravely.
He attempted to piece the bits of this puzzle together. But nothing seemed to make sense.
“But why?” he whispered. “Why the Mech laboratory? What was their intention behind the attack?”
A few seconds of silence settled over the room.
And then, a familiar beeping noise split the silence.
Evander pressed a button on the desk before him, and a holographic screen enlarged over the desk. Hanging steady over it.
A Naxim officer stood inside the screen.
“This is officer Gowden, captain of the Naxim base of Sacrogon speaking.” he announced. “I had just tracked a mystic in my planet, but he escaped.”
Evander found what he was hearing slightly humorous. “Stray mystics are of little concern as of now, officer. There is a far, far more deadly group lurking somewhere … And they occupy our real concern now.”
“I just thought you should know.” said Gowden. “Anyway, I’ve managed to get a photo of him. To store in our data, which holds the pictures of all mystics yet to be caught.”
Evander met Derigor’s eyes across the table, and knew both of them were thinking the same thing: that finding and capturing a bunch of harmless stray mystics in the inner spectrum had been the biggest concern for them … until something far deadlier swooped in to take its place.
Ironic. He thought. We realise the insignificance of a problem we face … only when it’s replaced with a far greater one.
“Thank you, officer Gowden.” He told the officer.
The officer nodded and said, “Here’s the picture.”
The holographic screen changed, now showing a picture of a blurry scene … Hanging in front of the camera, in a mid air streak across the sky, was a figure clad in a cloak. Riding a bike. The scene was blurry, obviously taken in a mid chase by the side of this mystic’s bike…
Evander looked at the picture absently … And then something happened that made alarm shoot up within him. He sat up straight, his gaze on the holographic image intensifying.
The mystic in the picture, riding the hover bike, was tall and thin … He was wearing a black cloak … And he had dishevelled, long hair that shone in a greasy, black colour.
His heart halting, Evander switched his gaze to the picture on the desk before him, the one taken at Mech lab. The mystic at the centre of the five of them was tall and thin. He was dressed in a black cloak … And he had curtains of pitch black hair.
Two and two added up inside of Evander, taking his breath away…
“It can’t be.” He whispered, still looking at the picture from Mech laboratory. This is him! This is the one responsible for the attack on Cransof!
Sitting across the table, Derigor surveyed Evander’s incredulous look in silence.
“Err, sir, what is it-”
Evander held up a hand to silence him, his mind racing…
“Officer Gowden,” he called at the holographic screen. “Officer Gowden, come in!”
The picture frozen on the screen vanished, and the officer’s face returned. “Yes, sir.”
“Where did you find this mystic you called to tell me of?”
“Here.” said Gowden. “In Sacrogon.”
“Do you have any idea where he is now?”
Gowden frowned. “He slipped right through our fingers just a few minutes back. Nevertheless, our Intel predicts that he must still be inside Sacrogon and its neighbouring moons … He couldn’t have gotten far.”
“Good, now hear me out.” Evander’s tone sharpened with urgency. “This mystic that you’ve just identified may be the one responsible for a large scale terrorist attack in the planet Cransof, in cluster 54.”
Across the table, Derigor’s eyes went wide.
“What?” spluttered Gowden, clearly unaware of this attack.
“Now, I need you to bring about a large scale lockout of the Sacrogon planetary system, all of its moons, and its neighbouring planets.” ordered Evander. “Get this across to Sacrogon’s government, and bring a full scale lockout of the entire system. No one gets in. And no one gets ou
t.”
Gowden listened without responding.
“Seal all exit lines, all ship networks, and stop all space transport about the system. Nobody is to move from the system.”
At long last, Gowden nodded. “Consider it done, sir.” He hesitated. “We’ve – that is to say, unfortunately – lost track of him. We managed to get a tracker onto him, but he destroyed it.”
Evander fiddled one thumb with the other, spending a moment to make the decision
“Don’t worry about that.” He gave Gowden a nod. “Just place Sacrogon’s system in a lockout mode. That’ll keep the mystic from leaving Sacrogon or its moons – wherever he is now.”
“I’ll also alert the authorities and Sacrogon’s government, telling them to keep an eye out for this mystic. I have knowledge of his appearance from our contact a few minutes ago. The authorities will be alerted to look out for him across the Sacrogon system, and neighbouring planets.”
“Good.” said Evander. “That’s good, officer. One last thing – have a copy of the photo you took sent on paper.”
“Yes, sir.” Gowden gave a final nod and the link broke, leaving the holographic screen to melt back to thin air.
Evander looked at Derigor who was sitting frozen across the table. The shock on his face hadn’t faded.
“Do you think we can find him?” he asked slowly.
Evander had been contemplating that same question. And he now had a vague idea of how he was to find the answer … that he wanted.
“I think we can.” He said quietly. “I have a plan, you see. A reasonably good plan to catch our dear enemy.” He rose from his chair. “Follow me.”
The door slid open with a slight hiss as the two high council members approached it. Evander pored over what he had in mind as they strode down the corridor. Their target was now trapped somewhere in Sacrogon and its neighbouring systems, with the authorities looking out for him, and with nowhere to run … But Evander was now going to see to it that he was found and caught without a doubt.
“What do you intend on doing?” Derigor asked, as they paced down the long hall. “What’s this plan you’re talking of?”
Evander turned to face Derigor with a deep breath. And then, he spilt it.
Derigor gaped at Evander for a long series of seconds. His eyebrows had flown high above his eyes.
When the shock had dried from his face, he slowly said, “Sir, are you are sure about this? About employing…” He seemed to grope for the right word. “About employing them?”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures, Derigor.” Evander said firmly. “These are desperate times…”
“This may not be taken to well by the rest of the council.”
“I don’t care.” said Evander. “I don’t work for pleasing the council. I work for the betterment of our world. Somewhere between Sacrogon and its moons, a deadly terrorist is wandering about. And we need to focus everything right now on bringing him down. I am now sending in our greatest and finest for this mission … and they will bring him down without the slightest doubt.”
9
Hadri, The seventh moon of Sacrogon
After waking from the short nap, Ion felt boredom clutch at him. With his earlier weariness now gone with an hour’s peaceful sleep, he had decided to go about for some exploring. He had taken the bike and wandered off over the skies of the planet. He was sure that there was bound to be a city or a town somewhere in this planet. And he had been right. Just hundreds of miles from the mountain terrain he’d landed in, he found this place. A city. But not exactly the type he had imagined.
“God,” he mumbled, as his eyes travelled over the scene ahead. “Looks like there was a nuclear holocaust here or something.”
The place was completely deserted. An abandoned ghost town. If it could even be called that. Everywhere he turned, he saw concrete structures that seemed to have stood over decades of uninhabitance: They were all cracked and partially demolished. Most had giant chunks missing from them, while some were half torn in rubble. The city almost looked like it had been the site of a cataclysmic war or nuclear explosion.
Parking his bike by the side of the street where he had landed, Ion took to a stroll down the long, deserted lane ahead of him. It seemed to go on and on, disappearing behind a shroud of mist at its furthest reach.
The night’s chill penetrated right into Ion’s skin as he strolled on. With his rucksack slung by his side, he prodded street after street, only to find debris, wrecked structures, and a soulless, almost haunting desolateness all through them.
The rare times where he found people were when he passed groups of them huddling around a fire, or sitting by the side of the street in ragged looking robes. Some of them would stare at him as he walked forth. Some of them would mutter to themselves and shuffle away if he drew closer to them.
A slight nervousness sapped upon his energy … And a strange sense of foreboding was crawling up within him as he strolled down this wreck of a city.
But he quickly stopped himself, admonishing: Don’t be stupid! It’s just a ghost town! Nothing to be scared of.
Shaking his head, he continued down the lane.
__________
A man in a rugged, worn shirt sat with his back against the wall of what remained of a building. A humble fire built upon a stack of wood lay on the ground before him, meant to keep him warm in the night’s chill. The man lifted his gaze, witnessing a strange sight disturb the solitude of the area: A boy with messy crimson hair strode by through the street ahead. His long black cloak trailed for an inch or two on the ground behind him.
The man in the rugged shirt let his gaze follow the strange boy as he walked past. Watching as he slowly disappeared into the shadows of the distance. The man scowled into the darkness. Something seemed unusual about the spiky haired kid. Whoever he was, he definitely wasn’t from around here. And he almost seemed lost. But the man had far better things to worry about. He brought his attention back to the spitting fire before him, rubbing his hands over it to keep them warm. The glow of the fire spread through his fingertips, melting the frost in his bones. Soothing.
For seconds he absently stared ahead of him, absorbed in the warm aura emanating from the fire.
A shuffling set of noises arose out of the darkness … And then, a group of uniformed men with long blue capes walked by. Their footsteps pattered on the concrete street outside, as they followed the exact trail that the red haired boy had gone in a few seconds back … almost as though following him.
Something about them seemed to exact a sense of supreme focus. A lethalness that defied all natural senses. They swept the street outside in a swift stride, carrying themselves in the exact path that the red haired boy had gone in. Their gazes were all locked dead ahead of them, clearly watching for something on the path ahead.
The man in the rugged cloth felt a slight shiver pass him at the sight of the strange blue caped men. Everything about them felt unnatural. Cold. And it almost felt to him like they were here chasing the red haired boy who had just passed a few seconds back…
If that’s the case, the man thought, as he continued to rub his hands before the fire. Then good luck to the poor boy … cause it looks like he would well need it.
__________
The group trailing a hundred metres behind Ion were the ultimate threat any mystic could imagine facing.
They were known as Force one…
Though they came under the management of the Naxim, they were employed only in the most dire of circumstances. Because Force one was a very controversial subject in the inner chambers of the Naxim, and if high council leader Evander had decided to bring them to the fore, it meant that he was desperate. Very desperate.
The very existence of Force one was top secret, hidden from the lower levels of the Naxim. For if revealed, it would stir a greatly controversial response from the entire organisation. And from the entire world as well. Bu
t Evander’s argument was that the greater good outweighed all…
The leader of the group stalked foremost among them, his head high and proud. His narrowed eyes were fixed on the black dot walking far ahead them all. Their target…
Known as RED ONE, the leader of Force one came with a past torn with turbulence and discord. A past which had shaped him, moulded him. Made him what he was today: A lethal weapon, devoid of a drop of human kindness. He had spent his entire life hunting down, killing and torturing innocent people. And with every target that he went after, he would feel the same inhumane thirst. The same savage fury.
But today, it was different. Today, as the group of them strode after this cloaked target, RED ONE felt a rage stronger than anything his whole life.
He contemplated the plan quietly, keeping pace with the others.