The Acolytes of Crane Updated Edition

by Tew, J. D.

  A high-pitched static-ridden voice suddenly seized my mind. It was Nezatron, frantically sputtering through the nanocom, “My Lord, my Lord. We are losing Theodore. We are losing him….”

  A spasm, really, a bolt of red hot pain, seized my mind. Shrieking, I passed out.

  I do not know how long I was out, but the next thing I heard was a jumble of shrieks and shouts of alarm. A woman’s voice rang out.

  ‘Put the sword down now! My king! He has Wrath and he is right outside. I will be awaiting your orders,’ she said, speaking in and out of transmission with Zane.

  Her next words were unmistakably directed at me. ‘I will fire on you! I am going to count down from ten, and if you don’t drop the sword, you will be killed. You are within the zone of termination.’

  Then, the woman shouted out away from my direction. ‘Zane, please! He has already destroyed two Ophanims and a Sepheran Imperial Guard.’

  Now I recall thrashing away, heavy with perspiration. It was as if I was fighting in my sleep, but the intensity was just as profound.

  ‘Theodore, snap out of it!’ cried out this woman, whom I now recognized to be Shazal, a female Bromel. She was in charge of protecting the forbidden Garden of Odion, where Zane on occasion roamed.

  I next heard Zane’s booming voice over the nanocom. ‘Terminate him; he is too much of a liability now!’

  Dazed, I looked around and saw all that was destroyed. What had I done? It was destruction—by my hands, my rage, and my Wrath. I stood confused and I heard, ‘Ten, nine, eight. . .’

  The Bromel in front of me was counting down from behind a mounted turret cannon: an endgame weapon that fired controlled bursts of plasma at their targets. Chillingly, there was no switch set to stun. Cannons of that sort sent people packing on a long trip to nothing. I would say hell, but it didn’t exist—not now, anyway. An aura of charging energy accumulated around the cannon’s muzzle.

  A voice rang out over my nanocom. It sounded like King Trazuline. He said, ‘Don’t ask any questions, run to the west wing, and use your lifters to get there fast and invisible. Now go!’

  I bolted, and didn’t look back. The command to escape was the only shot I had at survival. I didn’t know why I attacked the Ophanims—or even if it was I who did it. I was worried that Odion had somehow captured my subconscious, and Zane was furious. He wanted me dead.

  I sprinted, with Ophanims tailing me. The ship was in high alert. Sirens were out in full force, howling with enough intensity to awaken the dead.

  My heart quaked inside my chest, and fear gripped my limbs so tightly, even as I ran. My labored breathing echoed through my mind, leaving behind no capacity for thought.

  Now at the end of the west wing, I arrived at what looked like an escape hatch. It led to a two-person scout ship, one of many that dotted the docking bay. King Trazuline’s voice—if that was him, betraying Zane—told me to get in this tiny spaceship, and I did. Upon my hasty entrance into the cockpit, the ship went active and that brought about another delicate situation, because I knew that waiting for me in space were ten Dacturon Destroyers, with weapons hot.

  I was the traitor and there was no escaping it. There was no escaping danger. It was like being chased from a bear cave to a wolf’s den.

  I was wedged in an impending shootout between Urilians and Dacturons. I glanced at the control screen in front of my seat: on autopilot setting. Quickly, I mentally ticked off what I had with me in the cockpit.

  Wrath, my gun-blade, was still in my grasp, and my other battle gear was still on my body. A vial of some sappy substance—dephlocontis mucilage, the liquidlike substance that nearly drowned me the first time I had been transported to the Uriel—sat on the floor, jammed between my seat and the wall. It could be useful later should I experience severe injuries later on, alone and unassisted. Looking at a belt around my waist, I noticed a series of steel balls chained to it. Rolesk—check.

  Lastly, and highly useful, was a holster for Wrath. The gun-blade was heavy, and I finally had a place to hang it up.

  The ship, having severed itself from the Uriel, had blasted off with such force that my head jerked back to my headrest. It was now zooming toward the breathtaking Cliff of Divinity. Such a majestic natural phenomenon was extremely dangerous for even the most massive battle-class destroyer space vessel, but I had no choice. It was either the Cliff of Divinity, or a vengeful and all-powerful Zane on the Uriel on one side, and a formidable army of mysterious Dacturon destroyers on the other side. It was an easy choice to make.

  King Trazuline’s voice blared over my nanocom, tinged by a note of panic, ‘Press the bright blue button in on the side of the panel. Press it!’

  As my eyes widened in fear, I saw a Dacturon destroyer ship loom into view. It was as if the Dacturons had found out about my escape and now were eager to get their phasers on me. Meanwhile, the alarm on the dashboard beeped, ‘Uriel now charging weapons.’ I saw the iridescent glow of the cannons accumulating power upon the Uriel.

  Oh, great. Just what I needed. Two mortal enemies with a joint target: me.

  I lunged for the blue button, just as my ship received incoming fire from the Dacturons. On fire, the hull of my vessel triggered the emergency containment system to shut down the damage before it spread further.

  Under my command, the ship accelerated even more, tossing me to the back wall, the sheer force pinning me there.

  The sharp pressure was painful and rattled the center of my stomach where my solar plexus lay, leaving me gasping for air. I was flying so fast that the blood in my body pooled in my outer regions, causing me serious circulatory discomfort.

  The Cliff of Divinity, astounding in its majestic beauty, loomed straight ahead. A deadly black hole pulsated strongly at the edge of the cliff. My ship was still on auto pilot, and it was hurtling straight toward this black hole.

  Little did I know that the very center of the black hole was like the eye of a hurricane. It was the only calm oasis in that monstrosity. Any wrong move into the swirling, pulverizing eddies around that black hole—any ship would be smashed into a billion pieces.

  I screamed as my ship got sucked in, and my life flashed before my eyes. A reverberating, grinding, rumbling noise shook my ship to its core, and I prayed.

  The fearsome ride on The Death Shredder roller coaster at Minneapolis’ most enormous amusement park was nothing compared to that drop I had just experienced. As soon as my ship hit the edge of the cliff, I felt like I left my stomach behind. We went down, and into the hole. There was nothing like it.

  The star and debris trail slowed, and I dropped onto the grated floor, exhausted. Blinking, I realized the truth: I was still alive! I rose from my knees to my feet quick, and strapped myself into the leather-like captain’s chair. There were panels flickering the words “Damage Report,” and an audio warning repeating itself. Among the madness, I heard a voice that I knew I would always recognize.

  ‘Destroy Theodore now!’

  It was Zane. I looked back, still in view of the black hole that had sucked me in. Five of Zane’s destroyers were making a move to the Cliff of Divinity, as if barricading a gateway. No one could go after me without passing through this gateway first. Zane gave the order to these Urilian destroyers to enter the black hole, which I thought was most foolish.

  As I watched in horror, one after the other, four Urilian destroyers skirted the vortex, whining mightily against the black hole, but to no effect. Immediately, there was a series of four explosions in space, against the dark chilling backdrop of the all-powerful black hole. Each destroyer was utterly and totally obliterated.

  I then remembered Zane’s apparent about-face, and cheered the wanton destruction of my newfound enemy.

  But it was a little too soon to celebrate. The fifth, and lone remaining Urilian destroyer steered perfectly into the center of the black hole, well positioned to chase after my vessel.

  Just as the Urilian destroyer was about to crest the Divine Cliff, a Dacturon d
estroyer aimed its deadly fire upon it from behind. Apparently the two enemies were not going to cooperate.

  The portside bow of the doomed remaining Urilian destroyer exploded outward into the black hole from which I had escaped. Shrapnel from the explosion, as well as micrometeorite particles struck my ship, and continued to shift my trajectory. As the enemy ship continued to break up, I saw on the starboard side a vessel escaping the explosion. It was a small ship, similar in size to mine. It must have been a type of escape pod too.

  It was time for me to go—to escape as far as possible, away from the Urilians and the Dacturons, as they could still attempt to track me. When I pressed the propulsion controls, the ship remained limp and unmoving. Gnashing my teeth, I started to cry and to panic. My ship floated helplessly, rather than fly as it should. I was officially stuck. I glanced around the cockpit to figure out the ship. I sat upon my chair and began to erratically press every button in sight.

  From the chair, I saw through the observation shield nearly a hundred scattered meteoroids lurking around. Three hit my vessel, but none of them had the size to do damage. My knuckles grew white as I realize I might not survive my newest predicament.

  There were meteoroids ranging in size from a basketball to a tour bus. I was in a maze of floating space rocks, and as my eyes scanned my surroundings, I perceived two clear paths leading out the minefield—a fork in the road. I had no clue which way to go.

  I kept struggling to figure out the unfamiliar equipment. Exasperated, I settled on a purple lever. Grabbing it, I pulled it all the way. A door in the wall behind me miraculously opened, revealing a cubby space about two feet tall and about one foot wide.

  A warm orange light emitted from the dark grey innards of the cabinet behind of me. I heard gears clicking. Something was about to come out. Unnerved, I unstrapped myself from the chair and tumbled to the floor, trying to evade whatever was moving from the opening. I peeked from the captain’s chair saw a mid-size robot.

  ‘What the heck? Don’t come any closer!’ I hissed, grabbing the handle of my gun-blade Wrath and flexing its blade straight at the alien creature. I said, ‘Don’t come near me, or you’ll turn into a pile of scrap metal!’

  The figure walked closer, as I was about to unload Wrath onto the tin-man, he said, ‘Hello, I hear you speak English, a language that is common on one of the heritage planets, Earth.’

  ‘You are a robot? You can understand me?’ I asked, still not certain if Zane was now giving it instructions to terminate me.

  ‘I am a robot. I am named Ed. I am knowledgeable as to the operation of this ship. I was placed here in the event my passenger ever needed assistance. You seem like you definitely need my help. You are so . . . emotional,’ he said. If a robot could peer like a human, he was definitely doing so.

  ‘Okay, okay. Ed, I need you to take this ship on a course toward one of these—exits. Do you know where they lead to?’

  ‘I am not a map,’ he said, ‘I have not been programmed with the necessary information to navigate this ship to an unknown destination. However, I can navigate this ship to a destination of your choosing. Awaiting response.’

  ‘Okay, okay, take me on a course to that exit.’ I raised my hand to point at the left outlet of the black hole. It was giving off a grayish-green aura.

  ‘As you wish, sir. Can you please tell me the nature of your emergency evacuation?’ Ed asked.

  ‘That is none of your business, Ed,’ I growled, as my nerves were still badly shot. ‘I need you to try to get this ship to a place of safe refuse. We may have an enemy ship following us.’

  ‘I must make you aware sir: our ship has no advanced weaponry. We are limited to small arms, situated port side and starboard. Our best interest would be to evade and to hide.’

  ‘Wait, do you mean this ship can cloak, camouflage itself or anything like that? If so, turn it on now!’ I shouted.

  ‘Aye-aye captain,’ he said awkwardly, ‘that is why I asked about the nature of your evacuation. I need all variables to produce a sound outcome. Thank you.’

  Ed activated the cloaking system, and our course was laid in to head toward the grayish-green detour that I had selected. Ed informed me that we were on course toward the Valeon Galaxy. As if I knew where it was.

  My newly acquainted companion was skinny, mechanical, and he had a large ‘R’ upon his chest. He looked like a miniature version human, but with glistening metal skin. He was half my size. His eyes were bright orange, and his back had a conveniently located slim compartment that ostensibly functioned to store items of strategic importance. He was nowhere near the technological level of Nezatron, but he did look sleek and sophisticated.

  ‘Ed, are you Sepheran?’ I asked.

  ‘No, I am not sure what you are referring to. I am robotic. I am mechanical, and therefore incapable of emotion. We should get along, because where I lack in emotion, you will counter-balance nicely. I am observing some wounds to your body and some anguish within your mind. Can I please inspect you?’ he asked.

  ‘Ah, well, I guess it would not be the weirdest thing that has happened to me in the last month. So, yeah, go for it,’ I said.

  ‘What is your name, sir?’ he said, stopping to observe, and I told him I was Theodore,

  ‘That is a good name. All right, the full report. We have a number of problems here: your wounds are consistent with damage inflicted by an Ophanim. It looks like you were restrained at some point before the damage, as your mind shows signs of recent severe memory loss. You also have an abrasion to your cornea in your left eye. My guess is that you attempted to close your eyes to protect them when you saw the Ophanim guard firing at you, but you still sustained an eye injury. Have you been in combat, sir?’ Ed asked.

  ‘Yes, but it isn’t like what you think,’ I said. ‘Just battle simulation.’

  ‘This isn’t an interrogation. I am only trying to understand the nature of your evacuation so that I can provide you with optimal service. You are my master. I am robotic, and I am limited to my purpose. My goal is to help you in the event there is an emergency. Please comply.’

  ‘Well, I was still under a nanocom linked to a supreme being. I started questioning my servitude to him, and then I blacked out. When I woke up, there was a battle going on, and I escaped. That is all I know.’

  ‘That actually helps me more than you know. Now I know there is something wrong with your brain. I will attach these electrodes to your head, while I stitch this arm up, and as well, correct your cornea with my carbon dioxide laser.’

  ‘Wait, you can do all that at once?’ I asked, very impressed.

  ‘Don’t be irrational, this technology has been around for thousands of years. Yes, I can, and it will be quick, but not painless, so here is a sedative.’ Swiftly, using a robotic arm equipped with a needle, he struck me with an injection of diazepam, a sedative.

  ‘Wow—you little jerk!’ I yelped out from the stab of pain.

  ‘There, that should make things go a lot easier, just lay back on your seat, and I will fix you right up. Count to ten,’ he said.

  “‘One, two, three, fourrrr, fivvvvvvve, sixxxthhhhh,’ I said, lisping. My tongue felt fat, and my lips numb. I fell asleep.”

  I will place this tablet down for a moment. It is numbingly cold in my cell.

  Now is a good time to eat my mush. I pick up this paper-like plate and sit by the door to eavesdrop. The food tastes funny, like soap, or earwax. These plates are treated with a sort of flame retardant, and I can taste something tainting this steaming bland food. I started overhearing conversations arising from the hallway outside my cell.

  “Hey rookie! How is it going? You must be here to relieve me?” the veteran guard asks.

  “Don’t you think I am beyond the rookie stage, sir?”

  “It has been a couple of days since your promotion, kid—you’re still a rookie to me. Okay, I have someone waiting for me at my quarters. That’s right, this is your big day–your first shift alone. This guy
is tough, and don’t let his skinny body fool you.”

  “Alright,” the rookie says.

  I can hear the veteran walking down the hall.

  The rookie is on duty. I have a chance to get that nurse in here. I should do it now, while the veteran guard is preoccupied. You have to hand it to the veteran—he knows many of my tricks.

  I shove all of this food into my mouth, and swallow it completely, poking my finger along the back of my tongue to trigger my gag reflex. I bend my head down, so that turret cannot see my actions. My abdomen flexes, a belch of food lands on my tongue from within, and I jam my finger further until it touches my uvula.

  Blaaaaa! I vomit, puking all over that view box. The rookie’s feet shuffle. Hearing the slide open, I drop to this floor. I try to be still with my back to the vault and pretend to be unconscious.

  “Sir! There is something wrong with the prisoner!” the rookie yells.

  “Call the warden directly for clearance!” The vet shouts from down the hallway, loud enough for me to hear.

  “Warden. Prisoner number eight-six-seven-five. Open request. Prisoner is unconscious and immobile,” the rookie says, with his voice shaky and choppy. “Guns hot, I am in position. Waiting for back-up—over. Prisoner. If you can hear me, stand and proceed to the wall to assume the static position!”

  I don’t respond. I am near the door and focusing my entire mind listening for clues. I hear the veteran approaching.

  “Gun on the door,” the veteran says, “Like in drill. Keep your weapon on the prisoner. Got it?”

  The rookie exclaims, “Yes sir!”

  “Can I get medical in here? I have a prisoner down. Possible fatality—wait—he is breathing!” the veteran shouts.

  To me the rookie says, ‘Don’t move an inch, prisoner!’

  The veteran looks up. ‘Can you get someone down here as soon as possible?” I hear light and quick footsteps across the floor, and the veteran speaks, “You know what is wrong with this prisoner? Why does he keep going down?”