The cybrid turned to speak to someone she couldn’t see, probably a Vohrn, and barked an order: “Notify Hanosk.”
Alrine also came over. Mallory peered at her face. Her weary eyes were underlined by dark circles, and her skin was pale. Her long blonde hair was tied in a ponytail, the messy tresses hanging limply.
“Laorcq is next to you. Alive, barely. His heart stopped just before a squad of Vohrn reached you. While he’s waiting for a replacement, he’s hooked up to a Vohrn machine they call a ‘starganon.’ You are too, actually.”
At this, Mallory ventured to look up. The pain was bearable. At the foot of her bed, she saw the strange device that looked like a small, flexible container, from which a multitude of cables emerged. These were connected to sensors attached all over her body: she could feel the icy things. Beset by a wave of images from her battle with Vassili, she let herself fall back down. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault. If I…”
“Now don’t start with that crap,” Torg interrupted. “If anyone is to blame, it’s Vassili.”
A faint smile crossed Mallory’s lips. The cybrid’s presence was so reassuring!
Without letting go of her hand, he brought her up to date. “The world-eater devoured the entire belt down to the smallest pebble. For a while we thought it was going to gobble up the rest of Jaris system. Fortunately, it eventually subsided and disappeared. Then the Vohrn took the surviving Dva and Saharj onboard and we headed to Aldebaran, accompanied by the Saharj vessels that could still fly.”
“We’re back in orbit around Solicor?” asked Mallory.
Alrine took over the account. “Almost. We’re parked outside the system. The arrival of the Saharj ships sparked an outcry from both the Gibrals and the Xilfs. At least they’re back on the same page.”
Mallory was pondering the implications of this news when Hanosk entered the room. Leaning his rostrum toward her, he briefly examined her and declared, “The ktol is still lodged in your forearm, but it seems to be inert. We’ll have to extract it. One of my scientists speculated that you might have been contacted by its designers. Can you confirm this?”
She nearly answered in the negative, then changed her mind. Her memory of everything after she had voluntarily submitted to the ktol was garbled. A tangle of visions and directionless sounds, a combination of suffering and rare moments of lucidity.
Nevertheless, one of the memories became clearer. First, a landscape. A rocky spit rising from an ochre ocean. Further away, illuminated by the rays of a crimson sun and reflections from five moons, the ruins of an enormous city.
Then, a creature with a humanoid shape, with limbs like tree trunks and a disproportionate face, eyes cold and full of guile.
“Yes,” she replied. “I saw the ktols’ creators. I know what our enemies look like.”
Alrine raised her eyebrows. “The Vohrns’ enemy, you mean.”
Mallory grimaced. “They’re everyone’s enemies. They’re impossibly ancient and evil. They’ve been toying with intelligent species for millennia, pitting us against each other.”
“How do you know?” asked the policewoman.
“The Saharj gestalt came with me. It recognized them!”
Hanosk asked the human to start over from the beginning. She described her encounter with the Primordial. The effort clarified her memories.
“Our fears are confirmed,” announced the Vohrn leader. “These details are consistent with our information. If we want to avoid further deadly conflicts, we must stand against these ‘Primordials’.”
Alrine stared at the Vohrn. “We don’t know anything about them—not even where they’re hiding.”
“We have a starting point: the ktols and their carriers. We will track them to discover their source.”
Hanosk seemed confident. Mallory studied him. He was a large alien with scaly skin, whose lack of a head only reinforced his strangeness. The envoy of a people capable of destroying humanity effortlessly. If anyone could defeat the Primordials, it was them.
She felt her tattoos respond to her mood, immediately causing a sharp ache along her forearms and the backs of her hands. She groaned in pain. Images that she didn’t want to remember appeared to her. Vassili’s face. Branches covered with spines. The sound of crushed bones and tearing flesh.
Panic almost overwhelmed her. Terrified by what she expected to find, but unable to resist, she drew her arm from under the sheets and looked at her tattoos.
There were no scars or plant material emerging from her skin. Only the usual tangle of deep black brambles adorned with rosebuds. She heaved a sigh of relief.
Hanosk brushed the fine pattern with his long fingers. Mallory felt an electric shock.
The Vohrn broke the contact and said, “We’ve restored your dermal ornaments, although we do not understand their utility. They will remain painful for several weeks since we haven’t been able to devote much time to it: the injuries and damage Vassili caused have required all our energy.”
She thought of the clashes between the Xilfs and the Gibrals on Solicor. Of Laorcq. Of the Saharj, driven mad with vengeance, and of all the innocents caught between the hammer and the anvil. The victims of the machinations hatched by the Primordials numbered in the millions, if not billions.
All pain forgotten, she pushed aside the sheets and removed the starganon’s metallic sensors. Noticing that she was in her underwear, she picked up the still drowsy jufinol, cuddled him in the crook of her left arm, and stood.
“Where are my clothes? We’re going to go find the ktols. Every last one!”
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading this story. As an independent author, getting my name out is my top priority. If you enjoyed this novel please consider writing a quick review on the outlet you purchased it from.
Without positive reviews, no one is going to take a chance on an unknown author – especially a French one. ☺
Thanks again for your time.
Philippe Mercurio
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Available:
MALLORY SAJEAN 1 - PROCYON SHATTERED
MALLORY SAJEAN 1.5 - SILEISE RAIDED
MALLORY SAJEAN 2 - ALDEBARAN DIVIDED
Coming soon:
MALLORY SAJEAN 3
THANKS
To my French beta readers, Marion, Alain, Pierre and Étienne, for their accurate and constructive feedback.
A very special thanks to Michele Rosen, my translator.
To my wife, for her patience and support.
Aldebaran Divided Page 30