Oh, great, here comes the boring part of explaining to you what Quell are. Let’s just get this over with. Quell had been extinct for millennia; they were a race from long before there was any of the modern technology of today. It is known, however, that they had the ability of space travel; their hieroglyphics and architecture are unmissable on multiple worlds. No known name for their civilisation exists, and so they are known to the modern galaxy today simply as ‘the Quell.’ Their ruins are now all that remain.
“That is a good point,” Daxx mentioned. “It must be relatively true, or at least something similar. How else would they have conquered space flight during such a primitive age? If what they say about this artefact is true, its energy levels must be immeasurable, and it would explain why they were so advanced.”
Val sighed, “So, let’s say it does exist. Where would you suggest we start looking? People have searched for that thing for decades, and have come up empty.”
“There must be something that was missed,” Daxx proclaimed. “I tell you what. I used to know this fella. Not sure if he still lives here,” Daxx told them as he wrote the location down on a napkin he found.
“Who is this guy?” Val asked.
“A research scientist. He used to tell me some pretty wild tales of Quell artefacts and ruins. He may know something,” Daxx explained.
“Okay, hold on,” Vanakis interrupted. “So, let me get this straight. We’re gonna go visit some guy, who, for all we know, is some lunatic on drugs. Then, we’re gonna take his word for it and go racing around the galaxy for this thing, which, from what we know, probably doesn’t even exist. Then, assuming we do find it, we go to Rynok and somehow link it up to their comms tower with hundreds of thousands of angry Avayans trying to stop us, or die trying, hoping it actually, in fact, does disable their artificial enhancements, removing them from the equation. And, all the while, we’re hoping the Avayans don’t find us and kill us first?”
The others simply looked around at each other for a moment.
“Pretty much, yeah,” Akrillis told his brother.
“Let’s do it,” Laurelle chimed in. An eager smile was smeared across her cute little face.
“Basically,” Daxx added.
Val leaned forward on his chair, a big smirk on his face. “I’m in.”
The Azura arrived at Sorrentalle—a world of rock-far from Tarian space. The ship descended towards a wasteland. Nothing was visible for hundreds of kilometres. It was all badlands, brown rock, and dust. The ship flew down to a sinkhole. As she dove downwards further and further, a small city was soon visible at the basin. The Azura touched down at one of the free landing pads. The structure sunk dramatically lower with the added weight. The entire city was built upon the water at the base. Some buildings were fixed to the bottom, while others simply floated, and walkways connected everything together. The buildings were small and built to conserve the limited space at the base of the hundred-foot-deep sinkhole.
As Akrillis and Laurelle exited the ship, Val was already by the waters edge looking around at the sight before him. None of them had seen such a thing before.
“Let’s hope this scientist still lives at this address,” Akrillis mentioned.
They made their way across town as they searched for the right place, bumping into all manner of strange characters along the way. They were definitely getting their fair share of dirty looks. They travelled from building to building via the narrow walkways between them. Vanakis collided with a shady-looking hooded fellow. He was completely covered; only the whites of his eyes were visible.
“My name is Mr. Incognito. Want to buy some black-market goods?” The man asked.
“Ah, no. I’m good, thanks,” Val told him.
“Suit yourself, but you’ll need it in the sequel. Until then, I should scram. Oh, and look after that girl. She’s important. I’ll see you in forty years,” he said as he quickly disappeared.
“What’s a sequel?” Laurelle asked.
“Told you these people are on drugs,” Vanakis said to his brother.
Hold up! Sequel? Did that guy just break the fourth wall? Is that allowed? Can he do that?
A bottle of grog came and smashed right at Akrillis’ feet.
“Go home, vermin!” A man on a balcony shouted.
His small group started to name-call and insult the three Tarians.
“Filthy beggars!”
“You dirty trogs!”
“Rats!”
“Get back on the treadmill! That obesity isn’t going to remove itself,” Vanakis shouted at him.
“What did you say?!” he yelled with heightened levels of frustration.
“Nothing,” Akrillis intervened. “He said nothing.”
Akrillis then pushed Vanakis off and they promptly left.
“Assholes,” said Val.
“The last thing we need is more trouble,” Akrillis proclaimed.
“People aren’t very nice,” Laurelle added. She couldn’t believe how rude and cruel people were even outside of the slave camps.
“This is it,” Akrillis told them as they stopped in front of a house, the door of which had at least four or five different locks on it.
“Gee, paranoid much?” Val mentioned after he noticed the ‘keep out’ and ‘stay away’ signs.
Akrillis rang the doorbell. For a while there was nothing. Then, something finally opened. The little sliding door was just big enough to see a pair of eyes through it. They peeked through at the three of them, and the sliding door was then quickly closed.
“No, wait!” Akrillis shouted. “We need your help.”
“Oh well, better luck next time,” Val said as he turned to leave.
“But we can’t give up,” Laurelle told him.
“Oh, what do you know?” he snapped back at her.
“We’re looking for the prymus!” Akrillis explained
“We? Who’s we?” Vanakis questioned.
After a moment which seemed like forever to Akrillis, the door opened at last. Numerous locks were heard before it did.
“Come in, come in. Don’t leave that door open too long,” he said as he pulled them in. He spoke quickly. His voice was rushed and jittery, and he spoke almost without stopping to breathe.
He was a Mandorian—a humanoid with four arms, and instead of a nose, he simply had two open slits. He had no visible hair, but he had a weird hat on his head with a flashlight on the front. His grey skin looked almost like leather. His home was a mess; the walls were covered in papers with photos clipped to them, and there were boxes and filing cabinets all over. Books and notepads covered everything in sight.
“You don’t get out much, do you?” Val said as he looked around at the pigsty.
“Well, of course I don’t; I’m Mandorian. We’re vulnerable to the sun. That’s why I chose to live down here in this sinkhole. To go out to the surface, we need to wear protective suits, and no, no… I don’t go out there. One wrong move, and you’re dead.” He jittered as he spoke. “That’s why I always send young minds to do field work for me—aspiring researchers willing to do it.”
Laurelle was fascinated by all the things lying around the place. As she lifted a book, he immediately took it off her and continued speaking. “That’s why I think you’re perfect.”
“Us?” Akrillis questioned.
“Yes, you,” he said without delay. “I’m Slick, by the way. My name’s Slick, and I need you to go to an ancient temple on another world.”
“A temple?” Val asked.
“Yes, one that has Quell hieroglyphics within it. I believe the clue I’ve been searching for may just be somewhere in that temple. The prymus awaits. What do you say?”
“I guess,” Akrillis agreed. “What are we looking for?”
“These… Any of these symbols.” Slick went through some of the books before finding the right one. He handed Val a paper with what looked to be nonsense written on it. “You find any of these, document it, and return here afterw
ards.” Slick began pushing them back out the door. “Now go. You have no time to waste. Hurry!”
Before they knew it, they were back outside listening to the locks seal them out once again.
“Well,” Val said with a sigh. “That’s great.”
“It’s something,” Akrillis replied. “Let’s get moving. He’s written the coordinates down as well. Veeraan. We’re going to Veeraan.”
The black ship descended towards the city. Sleek and fast, it landed without delay. As it opened, Slade walked out. The menacing Veech observed his surroundings before heading towards a computer terminal.
‘Restricted. Authorised personnel only,’ the terminal said. Slade pulled the panel off, tore some wires out and rewired others. ‘Access granted.’
He searched security feeds, cameras, and logs from across the city. Then, he saw them: Akrillis and Vanakis with the young slave girl as they walked by the markets.
“You know why this place is called a ruin?” Vanakis spoke as they kept moving. “Because it’s just that—a ruin. There’s nothing left, nothing there.”
“The man thinks there is,” Laurelle added.
“Fuck the man. You saw that place. Guy’s a loon,” Val responded. “Are we really gonna take this guy’s word for it that there’s something in this dump?”
“Right now, it’s all we’ve got,” Akrillis declared. He was getting sick of Vanakis’ constant complaining.
They saw the Azura and wasted no time getting inside. As they approached the boarding ramps, Akrillis felt a solid blow to his back and was suddenly thrown off his feet. He landed hard on the ground, and his elbow made painful contact as he crashed down. A hooded figure with two daggers and glowing red eyes stood over him. Akrillis rolled away and then leapt back to his feet. As he drew his sword, he shouted. “Take off!”
Vanakis hurried onto the Azura with Laurelle close behind. Akrillis fought off their attacker to try and buy some time, but the Veech was relentless. The attacker savagely slashed at the prince and left cuts and gashes in multiple places. Akrillis felt his strength waver as his injuries began to weaken him. He hadn’t so much as scratched his foe.
‘This isn’t working; he’s too much,’ Akrillis said to himself.
He felt his desperation grow; it felt like forever Akrillis had waited for that ship to lift off.
Val and Laurelle entered the bridge and sat down with haste then fired up the engines. The blue tinge was soon emitting from the stubby cylinders at the rear. As the Azura lifted off the ground, Vanakis held it steady with the drive-stick. Laurelle copied him in the co-pilot’s chair, although she was having no effect on the actual ship itself.
A rush of relief ran under Akrillis’ skin when he finally saw the ship take off, but he still had to deal with the Veech before he could board. Trails of warm blood now ran down his body from multiple wounds. Each one stung immensely when combined with his sweat. Akrillis almost felt himself give in to the fatigue that plagued him, and he thought he was about to pass out. This Veech was a master duelist who wore Akrillis down slowly. Akrillis forced himself harder than he thought possible and struck back with all his might, but it was still not enough. The attacker hadn’t been so much as touched. Akrillis took several steps backwards from his opponent, closer to the water. The Veech looked right past it and continued to charge at his target. In the struggle, Akrillis rolled out of the way, and the Veech was left between the Tarian and the water. His enemy seemed to freeze at that moment, and a solid kick straight to the man’s chest sent him hurling into the water. Akrillis had already leapt onto the hovering boarding ramp, but even that was an effort after his dangerous encounter.
The Azura blasted its way out of the crater and out of the world. It then quickly made way for the mysterious planet Veeraan.
Close call, that was. Hey, Debra…. Debra, where do you think you’re going? I paid for an hour; this massage is not over.
TWELVE
Omega was enshrouded in the darkness of the night. The sector which Trydon called his home was locked tightly away in their sleeping quarters, or so the guards thought. The lights in the leisure yard were minimal, perfect for covering their movements. Trydon and Mantis hid near the concrete walls, accompanied by several dozen slaves.
“I can’t believe that magnet trick actually worked on the door,” Mantis told Trydon.
“What did I tell you? Let’s just focus on the task at hand here,” Trydon responded.
The Tarians had makeshift weapons, crafted from bits of wood and steel. Poorly built daggers and knives were all they had.
“All right, everyone knows the plan,” Trydon said. “If this rebellion is going to have a chance at working, we need at least a few decent weapons.”
The slaves simply nodded in response, ready to begin.
“All right, go,” Trydon said while he tried not to be too loud in the process.
The slaves rushed towards a guard tower which stood only a few stories high. Several of them stopped along the way to grab a shocking-looking ladder that was placed ever so conveniently nearby. It was obviously constructed by them. Horrible pieces of wood were tied together using sheets. It hardly looked stable enough to support the weight of toddlers. As they placed it up against the tower, one by one the slaves climbed. It was a little shorter than they expected, as they were unable to test its height beforehand. Nonetheless, they improvised. Tarians began to climb up the steel paneling of the tower itself, careful to avoid the big, open viewing windows as they did so. Most of them were shocked that it actually supported their weight, as many had their doubts beforehand.
Once all the couple dozen of them had reached the top, they prepared to open the hatch. The cool chill was a shock to Trydon’s bare feet.
“May Calhalla watch over our souls,” Mantis prayed.
“On my mark,” Trydon’s cold breath visibly escaped his mouth. “Three, two, one.”
He pulled it open. The slaves jumped down and charged at the ill-prepared Avayans inside. The element of surprise was still not very helpful; the guards had weapons sitting just nearby or on their persons. Slaves were quickly killed in the struggle, but soon their numbers turned out to be an advantage. Many Tarians lost their lives, but there proved to be too many in the end as they began to overwhelm the two Avayans. What few slaves remained had managed to stab and fatally wound their enemies. Trydon and Mantis, having survived the ordeal, were quick to grab the guns and as much ammunition as they could.
“Hurry, hurry!” Trydon shouted. “Reinforcements won’t be far away.”
The slaves snatched everything they could get a hold of.
“What are you doing?” Mantis asked Trydon.
“Covering our tracks,” he told the Zantian.
Once Trydon removed the security footage from the terminal, he promptly headed towards the escape. Trydon was a bit of a hacker and computer guru back home in the lower city of Nova.
Mantis gave a quick silent prayer for those who fell. They hurried back out of the hatch and closed it behind them. The few remaining slaves climbed down the tower as fast as they could; one slipped and fell to her death. Trydon was the first to reach the ladder below and start making his way to the ground, as each of them followed closely behind. The last slave was descending the ladder when it plummeted to the ground. It crashed down as it fell apart. When the broken ladder landed, the Tarian was a little bruised, but up and moving in no time. Trydon felt his desperation grow when the siren began to scream across the complex like wailing banshee. Nerves were already shouting throughout his body, but the alarm amplified those sensations. They hurried back with the stolen weapons and ammunition. They split up and went to different sleeping quarters in the sector.
Blood and bodies were everywhere, mostly of Tarians. Zurey and his lieutenants stood in the guard tower, stumped as to how such a thing happened.
“Sir!” One of the Avayans shouted. “We located what we believe to be a ladder of sorts. Whoever broke in must’ve used it to cl
imb up the tower.”
“You think so?” the overseer responded with a hint of sarcasm. “Check the security feeds. I want to know exactly what happened, here.”
“Sir, it’s been erased,” a guard noted after searching the computer.
Zurey felt the frustration boil up then escape when he slammed a terminal off a desk.
“Find those responsible!” Zurey commanded as the broken terminal flickered to its death. “I want this dealt with now!”
“Okay, phase two of the plan: guerrilla warfare,” said Fleiss.
An Avayan convoy moved through the leisure yard at a steady pace, packed with supplies to conduct their search to find the culprits. It was almost like a hovering train moving through the yard. Guards sat atop with their rifles, and slaves watched as they passed by. The Avayans gave them the same old dirty looks they always had painted across their cruel faces. The slaves gave the guards the usual blank faces back. Trydon stood amongst the crowd of Tarians, hidden in plain sight with a dirty cloak covering himself. The cloak was an old sheet. Trydon’s belly spiralled in a tight knot of fear, his palms sweaty. Not too far away, under a questionable wooden shelter, Mantis waited at the ready. One of the guards that sat on the transport noticed an x carved into the orange gravel and they were headed right for it. The driver didn’t take any notice of it, though.
When the train’s several carriages had reached the x, it was go time. Several slaves ran for the transport and slashed at the guards, catching them by surprise. Trydon pulled the rifle out from under his cloak and opened fire on those guards who were out of reach. Guards on the wall couldn’t move; they found themselves paralysed by unknown means. Trydon knew Mantis remained under the shelter while using his telekinesis to hold them at bay, therefore leaving no one to sound an alarm or even to call for help.
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