Kharmic Rebound
Page 79
“It’s an ancient machine. Very ancient. You and I spent a lifetime unlocking its secrets together. What the Alliance calls shadow tech is merely a weak reverse engineering of its components.”
“Who built it?”
“The gods did.”
“You mean the old ones?”
She nodded. “This is the device they created long ago, when there were only a handful of sentient races in the galaxy. They wanted to transcend Kharma and make themselves immortal. This device can turn a mortal into a god, and it can turn a god into a mortal again.”
“Wow,” Gerald said. As they flew past a massive hairy leg, he realized that the hairs were not hairs at all, but long weapon barrels. Every surface of the thing absolutely bristled with them.
“Why would the gods leave something like this lying around? Why didn’t they just destroy it?”
“Because it also maintains their immortality. Come, everything will be made plain once we get inside.”
Their ship struck the surface and splashed into it as if it were made of liquid. They swam deeper and deeper through its cavernous insides. Gerald could only look on at the inscrutable structures and mysterious devices within.
“It’s alive, isn’t it?” he asked, remembering something, as if in a dream. “Living technology.”
“Yes,” she confirmed. “That is its greatest strength, and also its greatest weakness.”
Gerald turned to her. “What do you mean?”
Lyssandra nodded. “Do you really think we could have come within a sector of this machine if she did not permit it?”
Gerald didn’t understand. “She?”
Lyssandra’s old faded cheeks blushed. “You taught her to love, and she has been smitten with you ever since.”
Gerald’s eyes went wide with realization. “I really am him, aren’t I?”
Their ship came to a rest. The hatch popped open, and the two of them spilled out into a frigid, stifling room.
A feeling, like a long, relieved sigh permeated the still air.
It took only seconds for the room to readjust itself to Gerald’s human biological needs. The air became sweet and oxygenated. The temperature grew warm and pleasant, and the gravity felt just right for the first time since he had left earth.
He felt a tickle behind his eyes. He had enough experience with Cha’Rolette to recognize it for what it was. Someone was reading his mind telepathically.
Beautiful snow-capped mountains grew up in the distance. Tall lush forests of pine, creeping down into the valley they stood in. There was a faint smell of salt water in the air. The sky above was deep blue in that way that only clean rocky mountain air can be, with wisps of small and bright white clouds. Behind him, a perfect yellow sun crept up over the mountain tops in a swift sunrise.
“What is this place?” he asked, spinning around. “Are we still inside the machine? Is this... home?”
Lyssandra stood up and dusted herself off. “We are inside her heart.”
Gerald looked around, and somehow he just knew. He was home, after all.
She led him down along a bubbling mountain spring. There, in the center of a wooded clearing, he saw a floating sphere of light.
It was the most beautiful light he had ever seen. It seemed to contain all colors, they swirled around inside of it, yet it still read as white light. Just looking at it gave him the most astonishing sense of peace, in stark contrast to the ache that filled his heart only moments before.
“What is that?” he asked, drawing near.
“This is Ragnarok,” Lyssandra said, standing at the edge of the clearing, as if she were not permitted to come any closer. “Every time a sentient creature dies, this machine skims off the tiniest portion of the aenergy released and collects it here. That pure aenergy can be used for anything. The gods use it to maintain their immortality, but you realized that this machine could be used for so much more than that. We began the age of Ragnarok, moving from one world to the next, absorbing the maximum amount from each soul that perished. In mere minutes, we would collect power that would have taken aeons normally. What you see here is all of the aenergy we collected during that long war. The reaping of a thousand worlds.”
“That’s terrible,” Gerald said, suddenly disgusted. “You killed all of those people.”
Lyssandra nodded. “I tried to talk you out of it, but you would not listen. When you ordered me to help you carry out your plan, it was the most difficult decision I had ever had to make.”
Lyssandra looked away. “It nearly killed me.”
Gerald was crushed. “But why? Why would I do this? Why would you do this?”
“Because the universe needed to be fixed. With enough power in Ragnarok, we could remake all of creation. Think about it. No one would have to suffer any more; there would be no more pain. Life would be paradise, not a pit of misery. People could be born and live out their lives without ever tasting the bitterness of lies, or hate, or hunger or thirst, or sickness. Doesn’t that sound like a universe worth fighting for?”
Gerald’s eyes went distant. “Yes, it does. You could say it is what I have always worked for. It would seem that his goals were the same as mine.”
“But the gods would never allow such a thing. They preferred things the way they were— a hierarchy with them at the top. You knew that the only way such a dream could be realized, was if a sacrifice were to be made. You volunteered yourself to be that sacrifice. You would become a monster, do unspeakable things, forever taint your own soul, so that everyone else could be free from the tyranny of the old ones.”
Lyssandra looked away. “And I was willing to stand by you in that goal.”
Gerald turned and looked at the sphere. Up close, he could see that it was made up of the finest tiniest dust particles he had ever seen. They swirled about like a little desert, occasionally crashing outwards like crashing ocean waves, then settling back down again. One little particle broke away and floated across the clearing, like a tiny glowing ball of light. Lyssandra tried to back away from it, but it zipped inside her heart.
“Lyssandra, wha...?”
She looked up at him in confusion, then he watched her as she was bathed in beautiful light. Before his eyes she aged in reverse, her back growing straight, her limbs growing strong, her skin becoming a healthy blue. Fresh pink hair sprouted from her head and fell down to her waist.
Lyssandra stood up straight. She was young again.
“How is that possible?” Gerald asked.
“I... I don’t know,” she said, giddy. She threw out a couple of quick punches into the air, then brought up her leg and executed a flawless high-kick. “Oh, ho! This is amazing!”
She leaned over and kicked out her leg in six quick snaps. “I’d forgotten what it felt like.” Crouching down on all fours, she jumped up hundreds of feet, tumbling effortlessly in midair, then landed back down on the ground, soft as a kitten. “Lyssandra Bal, Second General of Ragnarok, has returned!”
Gerald looked back at the sphere. “You said pure aenergy could be used for anything. I guess you weren’t exaggerating.”
Lyssandra happily adjusted her armor to her new young shape. “Yes, but it shouldn’t have listened to me. I cannot command it. The only one that can use that power is...”
“Lyssandra,” Gerald said.
She looked up. “Yes?”
Gerald stared at her. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Lyssandra, my most loyal follower,” Gerald’s voice came again, but his lips didn’t move.
Gerald looked around. “Where is that coming from?”
Particles broke off from the sphere of light, forming a ghostly silhouette of a tall strong man, his hands cradling Ragnarok like it were his child.
Lyssandra covered her mouth with her hands. “Hee’hidzin,” she gasped, recognizing him. “But you’re dead.”
Hee’hidzin looked around. “It would appear so. I assume the Trahzi betrayed us?”
Lyssandra nodded.
Hee’hidzin looked Gerald over. “So, this is the new vessel for my soul. Thank you for bringing him here, my love. Now, we can finally fulfill our destinies.” He held out his ghostly hand. “You brought the rings, I presume?”
“Yes,” she said, a little unsure. She reached into her belt and pulled out a jingling pouch.
Hee’hidzin snapped his fingers and the pouch floated out to him. But when he tried to grasp it, it passed straight through his hand and clattered to the ground.
“It would seem that I exist only through the power of this sphere,” he commented. “Lyssandra, we must fully awaken the machine. Please, put the rings on my heir.”
Lyssandra looked like she was being pulled in several directions. “But... the soul of my beloved resides within him now. He is my master. I... I can’t take orders from any other.”
“I know it is confusing, my love, but soon such distinctions will be meaningless. Please, place the rings on his fingers.”
Gerald raised his hand. “Gerald Dyson,” he introduced. “Sorry to interrupt, but when I agreed to come out here, I told Lyssandra I would hear her out. I never committed myself to actually participating in anything.”
Hee’hidzin raised a ghostly eyebrow.
“Now,” Gerald continued. “If you were to explain to me exactly what you are planning, I could at least make an informed decision, but right now I don’t have enough information to cast my lot on this one.”
“He’s very chatty, isn’t he?” Hee’hidzin commented. The sphere in his hand flashed, and the pouch shredded open from unseen claws. The rings flew over to Gerald, who found his hands held fast, fingers extended, as three slid onto each hand.
The world around them began to hum and vibrate. The distant mountains became dark and red, the snowy caps melting away into slushy landslides. The sky darkened to a scarlet hue, the clouds became swirling storms; the sun faded, and the trees withered. Jagged black rocks grew up out of the ground, piercing the land like knife wounds.
Hee’hidzin held out his arms. “Yes, I can feel it. The machine is responding to me again. Merging her will with mine.”
A holo-tank grew up out of the ground, inputting commands, formulating a plan of attack. The enormous machine began to move through space.
Gerald fought and pulled at the rings, trying to remove them, but they were fused to his skin.
Hee’hidzin cackled and basked in the power. “The age of Ragnarok beings anew!”
* * *
Cha’Rolette stepped into the dark room, holy golden rainments flowing down around her to the floor. Silver tips attached to each one of her ta’atu, inscribed with the history of her family line.
One candle came alive in the darkness. Then another, then another. After a few silent moments, the entire hall was alight with thousands of candles. Every member of the family was there, their faces painted with swirling tattoos.
One final candle lit in the center of the room where her father stood, wearing an ornate golden mantle decorated with precious gems, each representing a branch family. In his hands he held a brimming Lai’Monda. Alongside him was Hren’Ka Ssykes, the new consigliere representative for the family after the sudden passing of her uncle Thron’Ka Ssykes.
Since time immemorial we have followed the path laid down by our ancestors, E’Duwag said, his voice low and solemn.
The path laid down, the family chanted in unison.
E’Duwag held up the chalice, some of the purple liquid within running down onto his sleeve. A thousand generations may build up wealth, but it only takes one to squander it. So, they gave us the path to protect it.
The path is wealth, the path is life, the family chanted.
E’Duwag pointed at Cha’Rolette, and a row of crystal cauldrons grew up from the ground. The first contained red hot coals, the second contained freezing ice crystals, the third contained caustic acid. I have led you on the path for the last four hundred cycles.
The path of Ssykes, they chanted.
...But now the time has come to pass on the mantle to a new generation as the path requires, and I have found one with whom I am deeply pleased. One who has learned to live without love.
Cha’Rolette hid her consternation beneath a mask of passivity.
Hren’Ka Ssykes stepped forward, swinging about an emerald censur, giving off sweet incense. First, the demonstration of fire, she commanded.
Cha’Rolette floated up to the first cauldron. Some of the younger members of the family strained to get a better look, but their parents used their telekinesis to hold them fast and silent.
* * *
“I found him!” Kalia yelled, bursting into the room.
“Yeah, I think we all found him,” Ilrica said, pointing up at the flashing news windows. Footage of Ragnarok plowing through the outer defense grid around Central system was playing on every station.
“Come on, Gerald must be in there, we’ve got to help him,” Kalia said urgently.
The other girls looked at her darkly.
“Why should we?” Trahzi asked, holding up a tablet. “He broke up with us.”
Zurra raised a tablet of her own. “He even did so through instant message. How tacky. Who does that?”
“However it is the most positive and upbeat break up letter I’ve ever read,” Ilrica praised.
Kalia’s arms hung down. “Guys, he needs us. I can’t believe...”
“Oh relax Kalia,” Ilrica said standing up and dusting herself off. “We were just waiting for you to get here. We’ve already secured a ship.”
“Gerald may have broken up with us,” Zurra said, joining alongside her.
“...But that doesn’t mean we broke up with him,” Trahzi added as she arose.
Puppy Trahzi stepped up and barked happily.
Cadbury landed atop Ilrica’s shoulder and squawked enthusiastically.
Kalia lit up like a solar flare. “Okay, let’s do it.”
* * *
Gerald looked on in terror at the holo tank as Ragnarok effortlessly shredded the automated weapons platforms and barrier generators. It was like watching a giant swat sand castles.
“Why are we headed for Central?” Gerald demanded to know.
Hee’hidzin’s ghostly face darkened. “Because if I am going to make a new universe over the ashes of this one, I will need far more power than we have collected thus far.”
Lyssandra looked at him in confusion. “That wasn’t the plan. We were only going to harvest as many people as necessary, and not a single one more. Just what we needed to make a paradise for everyone to live in. That is what you swore to me!”
Hee’hidzin cackled sorrowfully. “Maybe at first that was the plan. But the more I tasted real power, the more I realized something...”
He looked up, and his beautiful features twisted into a hideous and evil scowl. “If imperfect people like them were placed in my perfect world, they would ruin everything. To achieve a perfect world, the slate must first be wiped clean. All the imperfect people must be eliminated.”
“No!” Lyssandra said, stepping back.
“Don’t do this,” Gerald yelled over the howling winds around them. “Don’t you see, you’ve become as bad as the gods you were trying to overthrow?”
The ArchTyrant scoffed. “If you are planning to make me feel guilty, don’t waste your breath. I came to peace with my decision to become a monster a long, long time ago.”
Lyssandra stepped into the clearing, tears forming in her eyes. “But... what about me? I did every horrible thing you asked me to. You promised that I would live with you in paradise, by your side!”
The ArchTyrant laughed. “I am going to become the god of the entire universe. What would I need you for?”
Lyssandra fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face. “No, oh no! What have I done?”
* * *
Cha’Role
tte held out her hands, and the swirling patterns of acid ceased their path and splattered to the floor in prefect little orbs. Left behind on her skin were delicate tracings like circuits. As she neared the inner circle of light, the three cauldrons behind her began to glow. The etchings on her skin glowed sympathetically, and all the candles were extinguished, leaving the only illumination in the room coming from the glowing patterns on her skin, and the cauldrons behind her.
Hren’Ka Ssykes bowed formally, her long ta’atu touching the ground with their tips in respect. She has demonstrated, she has been weighed, measured, and found worthy.
Worthy of the path, the family chanted.
And what path must the head of the family walk? E’Duwag asked to the crowd.
The path without love, the crowd responded.
For everything we cherish, we present to our enemies a weakness to exploit, E’Duwag explained. One who loves drink will have it used against him. One who loves sport will have it used against her. Even those closest to us, those that we would cherish, become liabilities to us, weaknesses that our enemies may use against us. And so, long ago, the path of the head was made special, impregnable, unassailable, inviolable. To be worthy of the head of the family, one must learn to live without love, for only one who loves nothing, is safe from assault.
Love is weakness, the family chanted.
Outside her face was calm, collected, confident. Inside Cha’Rolette was a swirling storm of emotions. A life without love? she asked herself. I haven’t learned to live without love, I just learned to live without the love of my father. But love? If it wasn’t for my love for Gerald, I would have given up a long time ago. The only way I’m even here is because of my love for him...
E’Duwag stepped before his daughter, as proud as any father ever was. I was raised by my mother without love, and it prepared me well. As is my duty, I have raised you on the path without love. As it will be your duty, you will raise your own heir on the path...
The path without love, the family chanted.
Cha’Rolette’s façade of confidence began to crack. The idea of raising her own child this way was beyond horrible.