*
Eventually, he was jolted from his recollections by a awe inspiring sight. The sun, finally ready for its opening act, had risen above the horizon, casting a fierce red glow across the desert. With the crimson light illuminating his path, Kingston doubled his pace. He traversed gravel strewn hills which shook with each step, trod beneath ochre arches which defied sense, and slid down steep embankments carved out by some ancient and long gone river.
It was a sight meant to be seen from afar, preferably on a picturesque postcard given to a relative to invoke envy. Leaving the back breaking geography behind, he came upon a natural maze made from wind-carved granite. Despite the rising sun, the maze was lost in darkness, and so Kingston was forced to navigate by the ever-present North Star, Lasienda. To pass the time as he navigated the twisting path, he recounted the fable to himself.
The story began with the introduction of Lasienda, a kind and beautiful woman living in a kingdom long since forgotten. Lasienda was the epitome of compassion, willing to help anyone at any time, and never thinking badly of anyone, no matter how vile their actions or words,
However, her peaceful days came to an end when she caught the attention of Hephelda, a vain and jealous goddess. Hephelda, who was a petty and unpopular deity, hated the thought of having someone so beautiful and kind in her domain, and came to believe that her unpopularity and declining worship were due to Lasienda.
With evil in her heart, she set out to trick Lasienda, using sweet words and empty promises to sway Lasienda’s heart. Lasienda, the paragon of kindness, was told that her loving light was not strong enough to save all of the downtrodden and broken-hearted. Hephelda, in an act of ‘kindness’ would transform Lasienda into a bright star, so that her light might shine down upon the whole world, guiding those lost to the darkness back to the light.
Naturally, Lasienda had agreed without hesitation, eager to help all who needed it. But Hephelda’s treachery soon became apparent. She turned Lasienda into the dimmest and most unrecognizable star in the cosmos, doomed to an eternity of obscurity. Thus she sought to prove to Lasienda that, compared to the vastness of the cosmos, she was insignificant and unwanted.
However, Ororkas, Hephelda’s husband, learnt of her treachery and set out to make things right. Meeting Lasienda, he offered to return her to her human form, but Lasienda tearfully stated that she would remain a star. She told Ororkas that if even a single person was helped due to her faint light, she would be happy. Moved by her boundless compassion and self-sacrifice, Ororkas made Lasienda into the brightest star in the night sky, so that the people below would always look to her first when they were lost and afraid.
And so, in the end, Ororkas foiled Hephelda’s plot and Lasienda succeeded in her dream of becoming a figure able to bring light and hope to all in need.
It was a good tale, full of hope and good triumphing over evil, which is exactly what he had believed in as a child. But time and experience had robbed him of his innocence. His time in the war had taken his hope, and his life as a scientist and exile had taught him that good doesn’t always triumph over evil.
He emerged from the rock maze a few moments later, greeted once more by the dawn light. He was beginning to enter a section of the desert characterized by deep sand drifts. Every step was laborious; his feet sinking deep into the loosely packed earth. After only an hour of treading carefully, Kingston was exhausted. Settling down onto a granite slab, he cast his eyes over the area, trying to pick out a better route.
Only then did he see the skeleton.
Well, the skeleton’s hand to be exact. It had burst forth from a large mound, its silvery bones seeming to reach for the sun.
“Silver? Hang on a sec…”
A few moments later, Kingston found himself face to face with a most unusual sight. A four fingered metal hand lay before him.
“I suppose I could always just walk away. But it would be helpful to have him around, and I doubt Barsch would approve if I just left him like this.”
Clicking his back, Kingston set to work, using the sheet metal he had recovered from the crash to fashion a crude shovel. He dug for hours as the morning heat beat at him like a hammer on a very old, very annoyed nail. Gradually the hand became an arm, then a shoulder, and finally a familiar head appeared.
Although he had never been well acquainted with re-mechs, some had served in his unit during the war, and he knew enough to engage a manual reboot. Reaching behind the inhuman head, he felt for the base of the skull, where he knew from experience a miniscule button would be located. It had often been the only way to stop a rampaging re-mech, since the early models had been prone to going on violent rampages if forced to kill a human being; a command that went against the core of their programming.
The only way to stop them had been for half a squad to distract one, while the soldier who had drawn the short-straw was forced to circle round and climb the gigantic monster. As one can imagine, climbing something that could knock over a tank with a single, well placed blow was hard enough on a normal day, but to do so when the target in question had gone berserk was suicide. In a way, it had been their punishment for forcing such gentle giants to go against everything they had ever known, staining their titanic hands in blood that would never wash out.
Having succeeded in locating and pressing the minute button, Kingston stood back and waited. After a few moments of silence, sound began to emanate from the sleeping titan. In a droning, matter-of-fact voice, it said, “Manual reboot activated. Initiating start-up sequence. Reconfiguring positioning systems. Error. Position has changed since last activation. Calculating location. Accessing global positioning satellites. Current location, with a leeway of ten miles, is Solas Infernus Badlands. Nearest habitable locations... Carçus City, three-hundred miles South... Correction, location known as Carçus City no longer exists in database... Nearest habitable location... Wareven Village, one-hundred and twenty miles North-West.”
“A hundred and twenty miles? Looks like I won’t be going home any time soon,” Kingston thought as Maloch continued his start up sequence.
“Beginning analysis of critical systems. Outer hull damage: sixty-eight percent. Emotion engine: unable to engage. Mobility systems: speed reduced to fifty-two percent of maximum. Power levels: eighty-five percent. Core temperature: negative-nine degrees, within reasonable range. Redirecting all power to full system activation. Disengaging sleep-mode. Attempting to access weapons systems... attempt successful, sonic cannon activated. Error. Secondary weapons systems offline. Attempting to access memory systems... attempt partially successful, extensive damage detected. Activating programming matrix, adopting stance: defensive. Large amount of particulate matter detected in joint spaces. Flushing filters… done. Initializing final boot sequence. Accessing ocular cameras. Powering up all auxiliary systems. Booting in three, two, one.”
A heartbeat later, Maloch burst forth from the mound, sand streaming off him in golden rivulets. He climbed to his feet, and Kingston was once more reminded of how imposing a re-mech could be. During the war, they had been used for their strength and endurance, but the psychological impact of watching a charging re-mech had broken many a hardened soldier. At that time, Kingston was glad that this one was on his side.
By this time the sun had risen high in the sky, spreading warmth and light throughout the world. Lasienda had gracefully faded from view, but if he squinted, he could just barely make it out.
“Thank you, Lasienda the Lightbringer” he thought, using her formal title. Turning to the re-mech, he found it standing at attention.
“Are you alright?” he asked, hoping that it would display the same helpfulness it had back in Carçus.
Maloch did not speak for a moment, his systems still booting. When he did finally reply, he spoke in a monotone, “I am functional, if that is your query.”
Kingston paused. ““Well, um, that’s good. Do you have any idea what happened to you?”
“Please forgi
ve me, Master, but it appears that the memory of the time leading up to my entrapment is nowhere to be found. My last memory is of transferring the majority of my energy into the escape vehicle, before entering sleep-mode. However, judging from our location and using the most likely scenario, I have hypothesized that the plane suffered critical damage during our escape and, running out of power, deviated from approved flight patterns. The subsequent impact with the ground must have fragmented the plane, sending us in various directions. Travelling at terminal velocity, I appear to have impacted the ground hard enough to become trapped inside. End of hypothesis.”
“I agree, I was thinking the same thing. Now, where do we go from here?” Kingston asked.
“The most logical course of action would be to locate both Barsch La Tergan and the entity known as Alza. As we are unable to directly seek them out, I suggest heading towards a large, visible location in which the probability of encountering them is high. I have located three viable options in the area. One. A sizeable granite mountain to the south, visible for up to fifty miles on a clear day. Two. An extensive cavern system to the north-west, stretching for miles underground. Three. A small oasis to the north, filled with drinkable water and edible plant life. Which will you choose?”
Kingston thought long and hard, knowing that if he made the wrong choice, he would never see the others again. After making his choice, he said, “I think I’ll go with the oasis, since they will most likely be searching for food and water. The mountain would be too barren, and the we would never find them in the caverns. Can you plot a course for us?”
“Warning. I require a confirmation in order to proceed. You wish to travel to the oasis, located north of our location. Bearing in mind that in our current capacity, it will take a minimum of two days travel to reach the destination. Do you wish to proceed?”
“Yes, I’ve made up my mind. You may proceed.”
“As you wish. Activating geographic overlay. Factoring mobility limitations. Plotting optimal course… plotting… plotting… Course plotted. Please follow me to the destination.”
Walking at a slow yet sustainable pace, they left the area. As they walked, Kingston’s mind raced as the forces of optimism and pessimism battled for supremacy in his worried mind. On one hand, it was highly likely that Barsch and Alza had come to the same realization and were moving towards the oasis, uninjured and unafraid. On the other hand, he had been lucky, both in his non-crippling injuries and in his reunion with Maloch, who brought comfort and security.
It was possible that they had been wounded badly in the crash, if they were even still alive, and now lay in agony waiting for him to save them. He mentally chided himself, telling his pessimistic side that they were unhurt, and that in less than two days he would see them again. He kept telling himself this, over and over again. Simply put, his mind could not bear contemplating the alternative.
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