Eternal Horizon: The Chronicle of Vincent Saturn (Eternal Horizon: A Star Saga Book 1)

by David Roman

  Their path flowed into a wide street. Unlike the rest of the dynamic Sebalonian underworld, the backstreets were abandoned, with no traffic or living quarters of any kind. There were no bars or the thrift shops nor any of the flashy casinos. The only sources of light were the bug-covered lamps that still functioned atop crooked poles. Eroded cars, trucks, jets, and other machines were stacked in mounds alongside the buildings, coated in inches dirt. Homeless creatures dressed in mere rags curiously stared at them, hiding behind the mountains of the abhorring waste along with odd looking animals some of which resembled cats and others giant rodents and insects. Every once in a while, one of the homeless would run up to the group begging for food, only to be roared at by Exander. It was hard to imagine that this was a part of the same city—it resembled more of an apocalyptic wasteland than the futuristic world Vincent had seen.

  Exander turned left to a narrow trail that ran amid the piles of scrap, where he smell was repulsive to such an extent that the party had to cover their noses. Most of the lights were left behind, and darkness loomed ahead, which meant more ambushing by the extraterrestrial bums.

  But apparently, the homeless were far more afraid of them as Exander resolutely stormed the empty streets, grunting, cursing and simultaneously shouting at Spaide and his brother. From the point of view of someone who didn’t know any better, one would assume that he were the eldest of the brothers—that is if one would cope with the fact that the two were related in the first place despite the significant differences in their size and manner.

  “Damn it!” Exander swore bitterly. “We were supposed to convene here! Galadan will be making his appeal all by himself!”

  “He’s going to have to,” Gaia said. Her thoughts veered to the Urtan King, the poor man who was at the mercy of that conniving Council. “My enemies made sure I wouldn’t be there.” She then squared her shoulders and added, “For now, finding Oryon and Duell is our top priority.”

  “First, we must find out what happened,” Damocles said. “Maybe they’re holding them captive? We’re—”

  “Who do you mean by they?” Exander asked, turning to his brother.

  “The Imperials, of course. It’s up to us. We’re going to have to find them—”

  “Well, where do we look, genius? All we have is that… that human!” Exander stuck his thumb to the back of the group. “And he won’t talk!”

  “I don’t think he’s lying.” Damocles shook his head. “I sense confusion and fear, yet not an ounce of deceit… but—”

  “But your senses could be lying as always? What of the maiden on Tariador that turned out to be a killer android?”

  Damocles bit his lip. “That was years ago, brother.”

  “This is so confusing, Damocles.” Exander looked down. “There’s a traitor—or traitors—that always seem to be ahead of us. At first, it’s Gaia, and now Duell and Oryon. And on top of that, we got a caveman on our necks that could be a spy, but noooo,” he scornfully said under his breath, “he’s just an innocent, lost man.”

  “The main question is why would Oryon end up on his system?” Spaide said, jerking his head to the back.

  “I’ve no clue!” Exander responded with his ever-enraged tone. “But I hope the data disk will give us some information.”

  “The Imperials must be scoutin’ the entire city by now.”

  “Yeah, because of you. Now we have to walk these slums!”

  “It’s an odd turn our path is takin’ us on,” Spaide said, ignoring Exander’s complaints. “Remember, the enemy strikes when you least suspect it. I sense bloodshed… but this time—”

  “We’ve little time,” Damocles interrupted. “If they are held prisoner, we must get them out.”

  “I know that!” Exander whirled around. “Why don’t you use your muscles to get us out of this mess, huh? Talking to you is like talking to a wall!” After those harsh words, he walked upfront and isolated himself from the rest of the group.

  “Let him cool off,” Spaide said.

  Damocles sighed and lowered his head. The big man, unlike his hotheaded twin, seemed completely calm, although he eagerly wanted to get to the bottom of this as well.

  “Is he always like that?” Gaia asked the big guy.

  “No, not really,” he answered. “He just always had trouble controlling his emotions. He’s very diverse from Oryon or Duell.”

  “But, of course. You must realize the current situation.”

  “I cannot believe this myself: Duell and Oryon both missing. I can only imagine how that’s tormenting him…”

  She nodded, then asked, “Yet you remain calm?”

  Damocles looked away. “I try to be a bit more optimistic.”

  “‘A warrior must always be patient. Patience is a virtue and is the most essential tool to triumph over evil, both within and out,’” she quoted.

  “You’re familiar with the Philosophy of the Warrior Sage?” Damocles asked, his distraught face fading away for a moment.

  “I know my share,” she said. “Mostly from stories told to me by my father, who had a great zeal for the Tel Kasar and their—your—way of life.”

  “Forgive me,” Damocles apologized. “I didn’t mean to react with surprise. I should’ve known that someone of your eminence is familiar with numerous fields of study… It’s just many have forgotten about us and the Kasar Delia. We’re just a legend… “

  She didn’t respond and became quiet as she did often when she remembered her father.

  “Galadan,” she then whispered, changing the topic, “I hope he’s alive, at least.”

  “They’ll probably try to kill him on Xenon, but he’ll have to make his statement alone. I’m sorry. It looks like Damien has won this round.”

  “They’ll eat him alive without me. I’ve struggled so hard to get him up there...”

  “I’m positive that Zeth is behind this.”

  “Yes,” she said, “and I think I’ve been made an enemy to the Republic as we speak.”

  Vincent strutted along with Spaide behind Gaia and the big guy. All the talk, the names, and the locations made no sense to him, like the “Imperial Republic” oxymoron. He wanted to know the answers, and there was no one to give them. They were as puzzled about the whole situation as he was; that much he understood.

  He slumped down his head that continued to throb in pain and quietly followed. Out of boredom—and by stupid habit—he began rummaging through his pockets. First, he produced his cell phone, doubting if it would ever work again. He chuckled and nearly tossed it into the piles of rubble until he realized this for a bad idea, considering his unusual companions would definitely think he was up to something. He then dug in his other pocket and pulled out a wallet and a set of keys with a peculiar silver charm depicting planet Saturn and its rings.

  Susan. His mind went to his ex who gave it to him as a gift, whom he hadn’t seen in years. Perhaps she’d finally met someone who’d settle down... “You’re a dreamer, Vincent Saturn,” were her last words to him. He clasped the keys, reminiscing. If you could only see what dreams may come, Sue.

  He then opened his wallet and looked at its contents: forty dollars (not that it would be any good now), his badge, receipts for recent purchases, and several credit cards. He sighed and put it all away, realizing he mustn’t let his worries cloud his vision in the world where death seemed to creep around every corner—a strange world where he wasn’t welcome.

  The pain in his head was so excruciating by then that he began wondering what the equivalent of aspirin was on this faraway planet.

  “Is there a star map of sorts?” he asked Spaide all of a sudden.

  “Sure, there’s a map of the known galaxy,” the Dirsalian answered. “Why? You expectin’ to find your home on it?”

  A spark of hope appeared in Vincent’s face. “Is that a possibility?”

  “If you can find your star amongst millions of others.”

  Vincent began thinking about astronomy, trying to
recall the location of the sun, and then asked, “How many systems are there? I remember you mentioning that there are thousands of civilized planets, but how many systems have actually been visited and charted?”

  “Billions.” Spaide shrugged and raised his hands, signifying that the true number escaped him. “The majority of the stars on the map all have dead satellites: planets with no breathable atmosphere, barren deserts, ice worlds, or those composed of pure gas. Yet there are others that have enough air but no advanced beings, hence are mere colonies. Even with modern technology, we can’t fly to every star system in search of life. That process takes years. Even so, they keep findin’ new ones—systems where some nations haven’t even reached the Stone Age. Back in the days of the Federation, association with such planets wasn’t legal. Now… well…” He chortled.

  “So, you’re saying there’s no way I can find my planet?”

  “No, I’m not. But I think your best bet would be the data disk from Oryon’s ship.”

  Vincent nodded, picturing himself returning to Earth. Who’d believe me? he thought. Well, Alex would… but others? They’d probably lock me up in a loony bin… He straightened, trying to rinse away the crazy notions. No, I have to get back.

  “I forgot to mention the crazy thing,” Spaide said. “Most of the planets the Republic finds are puttin’ themselves on the map.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Imperials intercept signals the systems send out to space and bam! It’s that easy.”

  Spaide’s ribald humor did not appease to Vincent, who was gripped with fear for our world.

  “We’re here!” Exander stopped and turned around to face the rest of the company.

  The alley came to a dead end before a fifteen-foot high base of a skyscraper that disappeared into the blurry sky.

  “Damocles, get the Princess!” Exander said and leapt up. With that one swift jump, he was on top. The big man wrapped his huge arm around Gaia’s waist, jumped, and landed beside his brother.

  “Amazing,” Vincent whispered, staring in awe and trying to grasp the unimaginable.

  “What’s amazin’ is we gotta climb,” Spaide muttered as he grabbed the first rung of the rusty ladder that led to the top of the foundation.

  Vincent didn’t respond. He stood there, mouth agape, deciding whether he should pinch himself or not. The trick Exander pulled at the tavern was nothing compared to the inhuman stunts he just witnessed. But what about Spaide and Gaia? he pondered. They seem to be normal.

  “Well?” Exander called out, awaking Vincent. “Come on, caveman.”

  Vincent quickly climbed the ladder, eager for an answer. “How did you do that?” he asked the very second he reached the top. “How did you jump like that?”

  The brothers exchanged looks. “Once you earn our trust, human, we’ll tell you,” the big man said.

  “Right…” Vincent grunted.

  They crossed the base and entered a gate that opened into a stairwell scarcely lit by a purplish light. A grinding sound thundered through the building and was occasionally followed by a thudding noise. Before they began to ascend, Exander put his forefinger next to his lips. “And you,” he said pointing at Vincent, “no more trifling questions.”

  The stairs were continuous, each floor similar to the other: a door at every landing, victims of a century-old corrosion; cobwebs beneath the ceiling holding famished arachnids; and walls covered in graffiti and murals. One of the murals was a magnificent masterpiece portraying a robed Xenian man floating in the sky, arms spread as if he were about to embrace the viewer. His eyes were fixed in a determined frown, sparkling with electricity. One half of his body radiated a light blue aura, and the other was ablaze. The background was divided as well: a serene landscape beneath the light side and a devastated city under the other.

  “Nice…” Spaide said and reached into his pocket. “I have to take a picture of this.”

  “As is the message behind it,” Gaia added.

  After they reached the twentieth floor (give or take), Exander kicked one of the gates, opening their path into a room filled with machines that were the source of the awful noise. “Through here,” he said, entering.

  Gears, generators, and robotics were in every corner of that warehouse. The wires stretched, twisted, disappeared from view, ran alongside the walls, and entered the soaring ceiling and into the machines. Pipes—some of them dozens of feet in girth—protruded from the floor and the walls, releasing steam and vibrating from time to time. The companions made their way down a maintenance aisle between all of this apparatus.

  “What’s all this?” Vincent shouted to Spaide, gesturing towards the machinery.

  “The generator rooms, water mains and so on!” Spaide answered. “They power up the city above and the rest of this buildin’…” The machines silenced them as they slipped between two metal panels after Exander.

  Vrooom! Vrooom! Vrooom! the machines churned, followed by, Ta doom! Ta doom! Ta doom!

  Vincent’s headache was coming back stronger than ever, like a monster awakening inside his skull.

  At last, they came to a stop.

  The opening in front of them was sealed with metal bars; a small control panel was to the left of it.

  After looking around and seeing no other way, Exander turned in place. “Spaide?”

  The Dirsalian got down on one knee, pulled out a small pocket knife, and began carefully digging in the panel. He was doing that task for perhaps a minute or two, but it seemed like an eternity to Vincent.

  Vrooom! Vrooom! Vrooom”

  Vincent placed his hands on his temples in an attempt to numb the pain.

  Ta doom! Ta doom! Ta doom!

  And then it began again—the images, same noise, different place…

  He was standing on the edge of a mine which was overflowing with thousands of people. They were miners, working diligently to collect some sort of precious mineral, a gleaming blue rock… Then he saw—no, deep in his heart he knew—that they were not miners, but slaves—their faces cold, aching, full of sorrow produced by the forced labor. Some were starved to the point of dystrophy, others dead. Soldiers that patrolled the place dragged the bodies of the deceased and threw them into a pit dug out at the lowest point of the canyon.

  He looked down into the pit and nearly cried out. The trench was filled with bodies piled up on one another. Xenians, all of them, staring at him with the lifeless eyes, the crystals in their pupils no longer shining… And the smell…

  It reeked of death.

  “Soon, we’ll make our move,” said a deep baritone voice.

  He turned, but could only see the back of the dark-haired man in a loose, black outfit standing beside him. His hands were crossed behind his back: one of them in a black leather glove, the other clasped with an armband at the wrist. “Soon, they will all pay...”

  Vincent lost balance and fell over.

  Gentle hands stopped him from hitting the floor. “Vincent? Are you all right?”

  He opened his eyes. Gaia caught him in midair and held him steady. As she lunged forward, she dropped her hood, and now he awoke to her angelic appearance in bright light. Vincent paused, momentarily losing himself in those lavender eyes, in her thick arched eyebrows, in her full lips, in her tanned skin, and in her long, bronze hair that poured past her shoulders like silk…

  “Thank you,” he said, moving away from her.

  Signs of a smile appeared on her face as she threw up her hood, concealing her breathtaking looks.

  “What the…?” Exander suspiciously looked over at Vincent. “Hurry!” he added to the Dirsalian. “I don’t want our new guest to die here! Not until I’m content, that is.”

  “I can’t open it!” Spaide sighed, getting up. “But I turned off the alarm, so go ahead and do your thing!”

  Exander reached down into his robe and yanked out his sword. The blade had a cool tint, made from a metal unfamiliar to Vincent’s eyes. It was slightly longer than three
feet with a handle covered in golden ridges. With one dexterous swing, Exander sliced through the left side of the bars, and with the second, they fell to the ground, leaving small knobs of metal on either side.

  Exander squeezed through and continued forth. Damocles had a bit of a problem, but managed behind. As the rest of the companions followed, Vincent bent down to pick up one of the bars. It was made of pure metal and was as thick as his wrist. How could a sword cut through solid steel? Yet another enigma.

  “Come on!” Exander called him.

  The further they headed, the less tormenting the noise became. After a minute of the identical passages, they reached an open shaft disappearing up into the darkness.

  “Elevator?” Vincent was glad to see a piece of familiar machinery.

  “Oh, so you have elevators?” Spaide said cynically as he dug through the wires in the control panel. In a mere second, a lift made of solid glass appeared in front of them. The door slid open. “WELCOME,” announced a robotic voice. Spaide turned around with an attained grin. “After you.”

  “Where does that lead?” Vincent asked as he stepped into the elevator.

  “The Seven Galaxies Hotel,” Gaia answered. “Well, we’re already in the hotel, but—”

  “You ask too many questions and don’t give enough answers!” Exander intruded.

  “Would you relax?” Gaia said in Vincent’s defense.

  “Your highness, we don’t know if he is who he claims to be,” Exander said, pushing the elevator buttons. “So I advise you not to talk to him unless we find out the truth.”

  “He’s lost, Exander, from a planet no one has ever heard of. If our allies take notice of this information, it can be a great asset to our cause. There are intelligent people that evolved on their own!”

  “We’re not sure of this yet,” Exander insisted. “Especially the intelligent part,” he then muttered.

  Gaia rolled her violet eyes and sighed.

  As the lift took off, Spaide couldn’t shut up any longer. “Come on, let’s be reasonable. Have you ever seen anyone who looks like that?” He pointed at Vincent. “Sure, he has the same skin and hair as any other advanced hominids, but look at those round ears and the black pupils. I’ve traveled far more worlds than you, boy, and I’ve never seen any species like this.”