Children of the Void: Book One of the Aionian Saga

by Jack Halls

  Gideon froze for several seconds until he could stumble forward on wobbly legs. He collapsed onto his father’s body, noticing for the first time his Sentinel Armor on the ground nearby. It looked like it had been through hell.

  The admiral let out a small groan and moved slightly, but did not open his eyes.

  “Dad,” said Gideon, tears welling up in his eyes. “Dad, it’s me, Gideon.” He shook him softly, but his father only groaned. Gideon pulled down the parachute that covered him and instantly recoiled. His father’s body was covered in strange gelatinous blobs. Each one bubbled and hissed on his skin.

  Gideon’s head spun around to look at Tloltan, who simply sat and watched. “What did you do to him?” he demanded in a thick, throaty voice.

  “He was severely injured upon impact,” said Tloltan. “I found him unconscious and barely alive. I brought him back here to hide him from the Maodoni. Regrettably, I lack sufficient medical facilities to treat him properly, and could only induce sleep to allow his body to heal itself. I feared he would not survive, but he seems to be more resilient than I had anticipated. ” The warrior moved a bit closer and dropped to its knees. “Tell me, is this your father?”

  Gideon looked back down at his father. “Yes,” he replied.

  “And what is your name, human?”

  He looked back up at Tloltan, who knelt with its hands folded on its lap. It was a posture that made the huge warrior much less intimidating. “My name’s Gideon,” he said, “but I’m not exactly human. We call ourselves aionians.”

  “I see” said Tloltan. “You are modified, then.” It was a statement of fact, as if Tloltan had expected it all along. Gideon winced at the term but nodded.

  Tloltan sat with their head bowed, breathing heavily. A million questions swirled in Gideon’s head, and he didn’t know where to start. “Those things that attacked me, you called them something. Maodoni?”

  Tloltan shifted from a kneeling position and laid down on the rock floor, grunting and gasping as it did so. “The large entities, with two arms and two legs, are Maodoni.”

  “What about the other creatures, the ones that looked like giant insects?”

  Tloltan cocked its head to one side. Under the expressionless mask, Gideon could picture a puzzled look. Then Tloltan seemed to comprehend and nodded. “The others, the six-legged entities, are called Krin. They are slaves to the Maodoni.”

  Gideon pulled the parachute back over his father’s body and sat. “Slaves?”

  Tloltan’s body convulsed, making an odd sound that had to be coughing. Gideon watched helplessly until the warrior regained its composure. Tloltan took several deep breaths and continued. “The Krin you saw today are different than their ancestors at a genetic level. They too are modified, but modified by the Maodoni for their own use.”

  More coughing ensued, and it took a moment for Tloltan to continue. “Not long ago, the Krin were a prosperous and independent race. War was an alien concept to them, and they fell easily to the Maodoni. Since then, they’ve been modified to be submissive to their masters, yet aggressive fighters, much like humans have done with canines on earth. The Maodoni cling to the philosophy that their species is the pinnacle of evolution. Every other species is either a tool for their use, such as the Krin, or a threat to be eliminated, as my people were.”

  Gideon’s jaw dropped. “They killed your people?” he said in a whisper. “How many of you are left?”

  “It seems that I am the last of the Luzariai.” Gideon could sense the emotion in Tloltan’s words, even through the alien distortion that the mask caused.

  Gideon squirmed, drawing in the dirt with his finger. “I’m... sorry, Tloltan.” For a long time, there was silence, broken only by the crackling fire and Tloltan’s wheezing. When he could stand it no longer, Gideon spoke up again. “How did you survive when the rest of your people were killed?”

  Tloltan turned to stare at Gideon through the glassy eyes of the mask. “Among my people, I was part of a warrior class called the Koramoa. My duty was to protect our most valuable treasure, a relic of unspeakable power from an age when the stars were still young. We call it the Zaer. In your language, it would be called the World Seed. Millions of my people sacrificed themselves so that I could protect it. They stayed behind to die, giving me time to escape.”

  Gideon blinked. “All of them?”

  Tloltan nodded. “Unfortunately. I wish it wasn’t so.”

  “So what do the Maodoni want with this... Zaer?”

  “They would use it as a weapon,” said Tloltan, “though they do not understand its power. If the Zaer falls into their hands, they will attempt to use it. If they succeed, there is no force in the Universe that could stop them. But it is more likely that they would fail to control it. That could be infinitely worse.”

  Gideon shook his head. It was difficult to believe that something could possess so much power. “Why couldn’t you use this Zaer to fight them?”

  “The Zaer is not a weapon, it is a tool of creation. Those who knew how to use it are gone. The only thing to do now is protect it.”

  The next fit of coughing racked Tloltan’s body from head to toe, and lasted much longer. Gideon leaned forward awkwardly, wishing he knew what to do.

  When the coughing stopped, Tloltan lay still for a while, breathing deeply. Gideon had begun to think the warrior was unconscious until Tloltan rolled their head over to look at him. “Gideon, soon I will be dead, and you will have to replace me as Koramoa.”

  Gideon choked. “Koramoa? What are you talking about?”

  Tloltan put a hand to its chest and grunted. “Gideon, I am dying. The suit has kept me alive until now, but I am old, and my body is broken beyond repair. You must protect the Zaer.”

  Tloltan’s armor split open at the throat. The warrior reached up and grasped a cord that hung around its neck. With a quick jerk, it broke the cord and held it out to Gideon. Hanging from the cord was a smooth, oblong sphere. In the firelight, the surface danced and shimmered. At first glance, it seemed small and unassuming, but as Gideon stared at the Zaer, he found himself mesmerized by the swirling patterns within, as if it were full of black and silver smoke.

  Gideon leaned away from the object. “I can’t take it,” he said. “I don’t know how to be a Koramoa. I don’t even understand what a Koramoa is.”

  “I saw you walk into that Maodoni ship alone, with no weapons or armor to protect you. I also watched you defeat a fully-grown Krin with nothing but a piece of wood. I have lived a long time and have never witnessed greater courage. You know exactly how to be a Koramoa. You must take it, Gideon.”

  Gideon shook his head. “You shouldn’t have saved me. It’s my fault you were hurt.”

  Tloltan grunted. “It was only a matter of time.”

  “But I just can’t,” pleaded Gideon. “I won’t know what to do. I need your help to save my friends, and...” Tears streamed down his face. “You can’t die.”

  It was the final straw. His friends had been killed, lost, and captured by monsters. His father was comatose, possibly dying. He was alone and defenseless. Wild animals, an advanced alien race, and even his own people hunted him. And now that he had found an ally, a powerful warrior who knew more about what was happening here than anyone, he was about to lose them, too. It was too much to bear.

  Tloltan reached out and grasped Gideon’s hand. “We rarely have the chance to choose our duty, but we can choose how we will carry it out. If I had any other choice, I wouldn’t burden you with it, but you’re the only one who can protect the Zaer. If you do not, the Maodoni will find it and all will be lost. Please, Gideon, will you accept this burden?”

  Gideon looked at the strange stone Tloltan held before him and knew he had no choice. If half of what the Koramoa had said was true, Gideon couldn’t leave the Zaer lying around. His mind tried to tell him that he couldn’t help Tloltan, yet, something deep within him stirred, a desire to protect this strange object at all cost. He took a breath, ho
lding it for a moment before he let it out in a long sigh. “I will.” He reached out and took the cord from Tloltan.

  The warrior sighed, dropping its arm. “Thank you, Koramoa Gideon. I can die knowing that a worthy Koramoa has succeeded me.”

  “But I still don’t know what I can do,” continued Gideon. “I’m alone and unarmed.”

  “You will not be alone, and you most certainly will be armed. Give me your hand, Koramoa Gideon. It is time for me to pass beyond this life.”

  Gideon did as he was told. Tloltan’s golden armor shimmered, then seemed to come alive. It receded from Tloltan’s body, seeming to fold back over itself. Tloltan’s skin was a dark blue under the armor, with sharp, aquiline features. The frill on top of the armor had been an extension of a small, bony frill extending from the back of Tloltan’s skull.

  The Koramoa’s body was lean and muscular, covered in a tunic made of a white, silky material. What caught Gideon’s attention the most were Tloltan’s pale green eyes, which possessed a depth Gideon never knew existed. They seemed kind, but also weary, and they were fixed upon Gideon.

  As the armor receded from Tloltan, it coalesced around the warrior’s wrist. Tloltan smiled, and for a moment did not seem alien at all to Gideon. The warrior spoke a few words in a guttural language, and the armor, now little more than a golden band around Tloltan’s wrist, folded over one last time and moved from Tloltan’s wrist to Gideon’s. The cold metal moved over his skin like a thousand ants marching in unison.

  Gideon looked up once again into Tloltan’s eyes. The alien that had saved his life smiled one last time then laid their head back and sighed. Gideon watched its large shoulders relax, then the rest of the body went limp. Gideon gently set down Tloltan’s arm, now devoid of life.

  Gideon sat for some time, looking down at Tloltan’s body. A lump formed in his throat. He had seen so much death in the last few days. People he loved were buried or obliterated. Yet something about Tloltan’s death touched a different part of his soul. He’d been witness to the extinction of an ancient race, and though he’d only known Tloltan for a few hours, the Koramoa had saved his life, and his father’s. He wished he’d known more about this powerful warrior.

  The gold band around his wrist seemed to pulse with warmth. As he examined it, he found that there was no seam. Gideon closed his eyes and tried to command the bracelet to change into armor. Nothing happened. He tried commanding it verbally. Still, nothing changed.

  The warmth of the bracer intensified as he stood, spreading up his arm and into his whole body. Drowsiness flooded over him. He tried to shake it off, but instead, he nearly fell over. Waves of fatigue hit him, and he sat back down. The warm sensation felt wonderful, and he found himself giving into it. The cave spun around him as he lowered himself back to the ground, and a second later, he lost his last grip on consciousness.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  The Temple

  LIGHT APPEARED IN the center of Gideon’s vision, then spread slowly out to his periphery. Sounds were muffled at first, then cleared along with his vision. He sensed people all around him, moving in every direction, and that he was moving among them. Something carried him through the mass of bodies.

  Images came into focus, but when he tried to turn his head, nothing happened. His arms and legs moved of their own accord. With a sickening sensation, he realized he couldn’t even control where his eyes pointed. He was walking along, but at the command of someone else. He was being controlled like a puppet.

  Two immense buildings rose up on either side of him, forming a tight alleyway. He wanted to look up, to see how high the buildings went, but his vision remained fixed straight ahead. A person passed in front of him, and they looked a lot like... Tloltan. Yes, these people were Luzariai, but hadn’t Tloltan told him they were all dead?

  With a rush of relief, he realized he was dreaming. He was inside his own head, not some alien city. All he needed to do was wake up. But try as he might, he couldn’t make that happen. The dream was so real it was more like a simulation, one that involved every part of his body in the experience.

  He weaved through the bodies of Luzariai, paying attention to each individual one. They were much more diverse than he would have expected. Their skin, height, size, and eye color were all unique. Clothing of various styles and materials, ranging from simple tunics like the one Tloltan wore, to elaborate headdresses and ornamentation, adorned them. They all moved about in different directions, weaving in and out of the many side doors and passages of the alleyway.

  The buildings on either side seemed to never end. It was as if he was walking between two walls that extended up to the sky and off into the distance beyond the horizon. The surface of the walls looked to be a polished gray stone with intricate patterns covering every square inch.

  Each tributary passage had markings above them in alien letters. To his surprise, he found he understood their meaning. They translated into things like “Observatory” and “Biomechanics Lab” and “Temple”. This last one seemed out of place, but it was exactly where his body led him. The passage led to a long tunnel with a barreled roof that terminated in bright sunlight. He emerged from the tunnel and out onto a wide patio.

  The view below him would have taken his breath away had he any control over his lungs. A vast complex spread out in an orderly square, with verdant gardens and water features separating the many buildings. In the center of the complex stood a monumental stepped pyramid like something directly out of Tenochtitlan. The only differences were that the pyramid was impossibly huge, and upon its squared top sat a building that looked like the Parthenon. A low wall surrounded the complex, and beyond lay a broad prairie with a silver river glittering in the midday sun.

  He walked toward the edge of the patio to a row of small turrets hanging out over the edge of the wall, stepped into the closest turret, and leaned against the railing. The whole turret vibrated, then moved smoothly away from the wall toward the landing of the temple.

  In the square below, Luzariai wandered among the buildings or lounged in the gardens. The puppet master swung Gideon’s head back to the patio he had just left and saw that it sat at the feet of snow-capped mountains. The tunnel he had come out of was little more than a tiny building. The walls of the broad alleyway were nowhere to be seen.

  The turret floated on and on much longer than Gideon had expected. The temple loomed even larger than he had originally guessed as he approached. Numberless stairs ran up the sides of the pyramid, flanked by gardens and waterfalls. He was grateful for the ride in the floating turret, since walking up those steps would have taken hours.

  Other turrets floated by in all directions, but mostly to and from the top of the temple. One was about to pass by within a few meters, and the Luzariai inside it waved and shouted to Gideon. Though it spoke in Tloltan’s guttural language, Gideon clearly understood the meaning.

  “Hello, Tloltan,” it called. “Today’s the big day, huh?”

  Gideon hadn’t realized he was dreaming that he was Tloltan. Now that he knew, Tloltan’s emotions and thoughts surged to his mind. He felt nervous and excited, while at the same time slightly embarrassed that the other Luzariai had pointed something out, though he didn’t know what.

  “Yes, Kovar,” answered Tloltan as the two turrets passed and started moving farther apart. “I must admit I’m a little nervous.”

  As Tloltan spoke, Gideon realized something: Tloltan was female. He smiled inwardly at the novelty being inside the head of a tall, female alien. There was more to this dream than he’d originally thought.

  “Don’t be nervous,” said Kovar. “You’re easily the most qualified. I’d pick you if I was the Roaal.”

  “Thanks,” said Tloltan, speaking louder now as their turrets moved farther away, “but you’re not the one that makes me nervous. Atzak does.”

  Kovar laughed. “What’s so scary about being thousands of years old and possessing godlike power? He’s probably scared of you.”


  Tloltan laughed. “Just because you are doesn’t mean everyone is,” she shouted. “Goodbye, Kovar.”

  “Good luck,” he shouted back.

  Tloltan turned back to watch the approaching temple. Gideon could feel that the brief conversation with her friend had calmed Tloltan’s nerves a bit. The turret came up to the edge of the temple’s landing, and Tloltan stepped out. Gideon could now see that the temple on top of the pyramid was much larger than it had seemed from down on the wall below.

  As Tloltan approached the temple, Gideon studied the many statues that dotted the plaza. Each depicted a fierce warrior clad in the same golden armor Tloltan had worn. The main differences were the headdresses. Some had masks similar to Tloltan’s, but most were hybrids with different creatures’ heads.

  For the most part, the creatures depicted were totally alien to Gideon, but some looked like they’d come right out of one of his history books, and he even recognized some from the book he’d borrowed from his father’s office back on the Leviathan. Several looked like Egyptian gods, with the head of a jackal, falcon, or crocodile. Another had the curly beard of an Assyrian king. One had the stylized jaguar head of a Mesoamerican god. There was a bull, a boar, a cobra, and even an octopus.

  Apparently, the Koramoa had borrowed ideas from ancient humans to come up with some unique styles for their armor. That would explain why this temple looked the way it did… Even as he formed that thought, he realized he had it all backwards. The Luzariai hadn’t watched human civilization blossom, they had guided it, and his ancestors had worshiped these aliens. He still wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

  Tloltan continued toward the entrance of the temple, where two more statues flanked the entrance. One of the statues moved slightly, and he realized these Koramoa were the real thing. The warriors guarding the entrance were the largest Luzariai he’d seen yet. Tloltan hesitated, and Gideon could feel her nervousness. She soon regained her courage and continued inside, past the two sentinels. The temple’s antechamber rose several stories high, dominated by a waterfall streaming down from the ceiling into a crystal clear pool at the back of the room. The ceiling itself was transparent crystal, allowing sunlight to pour down into the temple.