by Trevor Gregg
“They’re going to wipe us out,” Benjam cried desperately. “What’ll we do?”
“I have an idea, but I could be wrong. If I am, though, it won’t matter. We’ll be blasted into atoms,” Leicara said gravely. “You are not from here, not from now. I don’t know where, or how you came here, but I know you are foreign to us. The Computer calculates the future based on all known variables at the time. You may be invisible to their Computer.”
“Interesting hypothesis. How do we use that to our advantage?”
“You will run the battle. You will instruct Skotinicene,” she replied in a serious tone.
Benjam had a moment of doubt. He was no spaceship captain, much less a war general. But together, with Alis and Kyren and Elarra, they had faced off against just such a threat in the Ashari. Hopefully Leicara’s ship was as capable.
“Incoming ships,” Skotinicene warned.
“Shields full strength, divert all power. We’ll need to survive the first barrage. They’re all going to hit us at the same time, I suspect,” Benjam posited.
The ships streamed at them, glinting in the sunlight. Then they were upon them. Flying evasively, Skotty attempted to dodge as much of the fire as possible, but they were still bathed in energy blasts.
“Deploying nanites to repair the damage,” Skotty informed him.
Beams continued to lance into the shields, whiting out the viewscreen momentarily.
“Shields are at ten percent and failing. What is my next instruction?”
“On my mark, drop shields and dump everything into weapons. Blast us a hole to the warp gate,” Benjam said, looking over at Leicara, who was busy at a terminal and seeming to ignore him.
“Mark!” Benjam yelled, and all of Skotty’s weapons fired. The shields dropped simultaneously.
Torpedoes streaked out and impacted with the nearest ships. Beams lanced into them. Then the bombs detonated, catching many of the ships. Their detonations were spectacular, as many of the enemies were caught by the ship’s weapons.
“Skotty, use the gap to get beyond them, get us to the warp gate,” Benjam instructed.
“Wait, I’m still trying to regain access to it,” Leicara said over her shoulder. “Otherwise we’ll end up at the Halifax home world. If I can regain control, we can warp to my base.”
“Since you are making the decision, won’t they know where we go?”
“Indeed they will, but I can only hope our forces are strong enough to resist,” she replied gravely.
“Skotty, see if you can get the shields back. Meanwhile full burn to the gate,” Benjam instructed.
Beams from the remaining dragoons lanced into the ship, shaking it and eliciting explosions from somewhere outside.
“Deploying nanites again,” Skotty said without fear.
The ship sped on toward the gate. Would Leicara gain control in time, or would they speed through smack into the middle of Halifax forces? They approached the gate. It rapidly grew larger in the viewscreen. They reached the point of no return, too close to veer off.
“Um, Leicara?” Benjam squeaked. “Um, anytime now.”
Leicara frantically worked the controls, then shrieked “Yes!”
The warp portal rippled and shifted mere seconds before the ship reached it. They passed through the portal and into empty space beyond, no enemies in sight. Benjam sighed an audible sigh of relief. The connection was severed and the gate fell dark behind them, cutting off their pursuers.
49
Interlude
It had journeyed for millions of years, crossing the space between galaxies, borne along by intergalactic magnetic fields. The Kirugi could feel it, feel the galaxy it had entered, full of inhabited planets. Full of life. It hungered.
The Kirugi could taste the world it was destined for. Teeming with life, the planet would provide sustenance for its offspring. They would use this raw biological matter to convert into fuel, fuel to launch its eggs back into space.
Absorbing interstellar radiation, the eggs would grow to maturity as they traveled to their destinations, the other inhabited worlds, where the cycle would start anew. The eggs would impact with a planet, entering the atmosphere and crashing down like a tremendous meteorite. The Kirugi would then hatch and emerge, to put forth its offspring and eggs.
But it should emerge into a friendly environment, one secured by its forerunners, those who could hear its music. The Kirugi could feel the world’s proximity, so it began to sing. It could feel the listeners, feel their minds gathering within its own. The Kirugi instructed them to prepare, to make safe for its arrival. It sang its song, and the listeners followed.
50
The Gaidan
Kyren followed Dralok to the bot-fighting control center. Instead of bearing for the right door, as before, Dralok led him to the left. This control room appeared more advanced than the other one with a larger and more complex control rig. On the left wall was a doorway, which Dralok made for at a brisk walk.
He hurried after Dralok and passed through the doorway. They entered a small antechamber, occupied by a single bot. The bot’s eyes were yellow, and locked on them as they approached.
Dralok raised his palm and beams of light emitted from the bot’s eyes and played over his extended hand. The bot’s eyes went blue and it stepped aside, revealing another doorway leading into yet another passage.
Kyren had to admit he was lost. Or rather, the mental map he was building was inherently flawed. There was no geographical relation, as each time they passed through a doorway, they traveled to another location within the galaxy. Kyren was relieved when they finally stepped through a doorway and into sunlight.
He looked up, expecting sky. Instead a huge dome loomed overhead, its composition clear plexi-steel or something of that nature. The dome covered a large city. No building was more than two stories, with most being a single story. The stone facades were highly decorated, bearing stylized Azorians, strange beasts, and mysterious machines.
“So where are we?” Kyren asked bluntly.
“We are on the ninth moon of the seventh planet. The planet will rise soon, and you will see the magnificent gas giant Epelion, with her tremendously beautiful rings.”
“Whoa, you almost sound like you have feelings for this place,” Kyren responded in surprise.
“It is the place of my birth, I am fond of it, yes,” Dralok said, sounding as if admitting to a weakness. “Enough! We shall meet with the council and then prepare for war.”
Kyren followed in silence, knowing nothing he would say could make the situation better. Besides, he didn’t want to give the arrogant Azorian any more chances to speak, he couldn’t stand listening to him. He followed in silence and thankfully Dralok chose not to speak again.
They reached the tallest building in the city, a two story building with four towers at each corner. This place was exceptionally opulent, bearing gold-leaf and inlaid precious stones over much of its surface. Dralok approached the entrance, large double doors, and threw them open dramatically, striding inside, a self-important look on his face.
His only saving grace was the devious plan Kyren had in store for Dralok. He had studied the specs for the Gaidan he had discovered during his hacking, and knew much of its capability already. The plan had formed even before Dralok had recruited him to pilot it.
It was definitely a long shot, there were so many variables anything could go wrong. And with that many moving parts, it was nearly inevitable that something would go wrong, he knew. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try. And who knows, maybe this is how he did it in the past. Or was it the future? If he was in the past, but it happened in his future, was it still the future, or was it the past?
He shook his head and focused on the matter at hand. He was going to need to exercise great restraint, he knew. He would have to convince these arrogant pricks that he was on their side, without letting on how much he despised them. That was going to be tough.
Kyren prepared himsel
f for the unknown and followed Dralok through the doors. The interior of the building was similarly opulent. It was a long amphitheater, with a stage at the end. Seated at low podiums four Azorians, the haughty Yal, sat upright, their eyes nearly unblinking.
“Dralok, you have brought the interloper? Bring it forward that we may examine it!” the Azorian at the far left spoke in a harsh tone.
Kyren didn’t wait for Dralok, but strode forward confidently.
“Interloper? Examine me? I’m not some sort of specimen. I’m your salvation. So treat me as such,” Kyren demanded, firmly but without heat.
“It speaks, and speaks with conviction. You have trained it well, Dralok,” the councilor to the far right said in a reedy voice.
“Yeah, so how about we just get to it, okay?” Kyren said bluntly, hoping to head off more discussion.
“Eager. Good,” the center-left councilor said in even tones.
“Yeah, I’m like, ready to fight. Dralok taught me well, now I want to put it to good use. Besides, I think you’re missing a bot-fighter. Wasn’t she killed when the Halifax tried to assassinate Leicara?” Kyren questioned
“Ah yes, the other matter. Leicara,” The center-right growled.
“She has denied us, her own people, the opportunity to use our own Epsilon Computer. With it we could learn the movements of the Halifax, know their weaknesses. We would foresee their destruction, and foreseeing it would make it so. Instead she has left her own people in jeopardy of falling to the enemy,” far left said in consternation.
“Leicara should be stripped of her birthright. She is a traitor to her people,” Far-Right insisted.
“Then it is agreed. Leicara is untouchable, banished forever,” Center-Left said, nodding once.
Man, why were councils always filled with a bag of dicks? Kyren ignored his ire and focused on the task at hand, suppressing the reaction he really wanted to have.
“I’m not here to discuss Leicara,” Kyren explained. “I’m here to bot-fight.”
“And it is time. The Halifax are even now moving on our position. We will deploy our largest weapon and you, bot-fighter, will crush our enemies,” Center-Right wheezed.
“Dralok, prepare for war,” Center-Left instructed.
“Come, our business is concluded,” Dralok growled, motioning for Kyren to follow.
About time, he thought. Thankfully, they weren’t long winded, even if they were assholes. He followed Dralok as they made their way back to the control room they had passed through.
“Prepare yourself. The Gaidan is different than any other bot you have encountered. Its control system has a neural interface, allowing for subconscious control. This allows you to both fight and program simultaneously. It links you in such a way, though, that creates neural feedback. You’ll feel the pain the bot feels, so to speak,” Dralok explained as they walked.
Well that was a twist he had certainly not expected. There wasn’t any more time for contemplation, though. They arrived at the control room and Dralok secured the doors, deactivating the fade-gates. Great, he was trapped with King Asshole, he thought grimly. This was going to be tricky, he knew. He would have to deal with Dralok sooner or later, but for now it was time to focus on the bot.
He let Dralok assist him in donning the control gear. The holopanel and main viewscreen were nearly twice as large as those in the previous control room he had used, and they flared to life, full of symbols and status displays. He immediately recognized the basic systems, and was pretty sure he knew how to get to the auxiliary systems he would need to access. The trick would be doing it without Dralok noticing.
“Now, activate the Gaidan and the control rig will link with your neural system.”
He keyed the symbols to activate the systems, powering up each sub-component before activating the entire bot. He felt a strange sensation, a whirring in his bones, as the neural system linked with his own.
Suddenly disoriented, he closed his eyes, but the sensation did not diminish. It was as if he had more eyes than the two he had always had. He was seeing the same scene, he realized, from multiple angles.
“Yes, you can see, can you not? You have access to all the sensors available to the Gaidan, including sensor drones and its own eyes,” Dralok said haughtily.
Kyren flexed his arms and legs experimentally, and felt the Gaidan respond. He looked around and understood his surroundings almost immediately. He was standing, or rather the bot was standing, upon a low hill amidst a barren plain of fractured rock and sandy soil. As he turned he spotted on the horizon the domed city of Dralok’s birth. He was on the ninth moon of their seventh planet. The great blue gas giant rose in the background, its rings gleaming with reflected sunlight.
Arrayed out before the Gaidan was a sea of battle bots, energy blades sparking and glittering from both wrists. The entirety of the Nevthifar forces. Respectable, yes. But comparable to the Halifax, not likely. This would be a losing battle, he knew. Especially if he succeeded in his plan. He didn’t wish them to die, the Nevthifar, but he felt they had dug their own graves with their arrogance. Besides, he was trying to save the galaxy after all, not just a bunch of uptight slavers.
“Um, Dralok, I think they’re here,” Kyren said as he spotted distant shapes appearing on the horizon, pooling into a massive cloud spanning the horizon.
51
Held Prisoner
By the time Elarra exited Joraq’s ship, it was dawn. She was exhausted, not only having not slept but also having been through the ordeal of the last ten hours. Coming up with no better solution, she decided to make her way to the boat. At least she could sleep there. She knew she needed it.
There were nar'raxi milling about, going about their daily lives. But they were sullen, silent, joyless. By the light of the morning she could see that the compound was littered with bodies on spikes, piles of severed heads, and many, many skulls.
How long had Joraq been at this? And why? Why the barbarism, the butchery? Maybe there was no reason, maybe Joraq was just crazy? It was possible, but equally possible that she was playing a game. After all, Elarra had waited nearly twenty years on Pygar for Kyren and Alis.
Joraq could have been planning for them for even longer. Elarra shivered at the thought as a voice called out from across the plaza she was traversing. Turning, she spotted Mac waving furiously at her.
“Over here! Come over here! Her majesty needs your presence, man, like yesterday man!” Mac said urgently, flailing his arms.
Wearily, she trudged across the plaza and fell in behind Mac without another word. At least from her anyway, Mac was a different story, he rambled and chatted, entirely to himself, as the nar'raxi didn’t appear to comprehend his language, nor pay him much mind.
“So I know it’s like, barbaric, it’s like brutal, it’s like a slaughterhouse, man,” Mac rambled, waving to the decaying bodies and rotted heads. “But they’re enemies, man, enemies. Enemies of the future, man.”
Showing no concern for Elarra’s lack of participation in his conversation, Mac continued chattering as they walked. Elarra was just trying to stay cognizant, fatigue was beginning to take hold.
“…and Arkanon, well, he’s another story. He sees her, man. Like totally puts his peepers on her, with his mind. But she sees him back, man. Like she knows where he’s going, she does.”
Elarra listened to Mac’s chatter, hoping to glean something valuable. Unfortunately, the upside-down-headed being was completely mad, she decided. After a short while they arrived at their destination, the stockade where she had been held briefly.
Mac led her into the building and into the back, where the cells were located. Joraq was standing in front of one of the cells, but Elarra could not make out the cell’s occupant from her angle. She yawned a tremendous yawn then shook her head in an attempt to hold the fatigue at bay.
“Yes Elarra, come, see my prize!” Joraq screeched at her.
Elarra approached, stopping beside Joraq and peering into the shadowed c
ell. A figure limped forward into the light. He was imposing, clad in highly damaged battle armor. Two thick fleshy tendrils trailed down his back from the rear of his skull.
It was Arkanon. Elarra realized he must’ve been on one of the transports that was destroyed when Joraq was demonstrating her defenses. How had he survived? Joraq must have known he would, Elarra realized. What were her plans for him? If Utien were any indication, it wasn’t looking good for Arkanon.
“Ah, one of the newcomers. So you have betrayed me to this abomination?” Arkanon said indignantly.
Joraq cackled and then spoke, “No Arkanon, I saw you. I’ve seen the entirety of your life, I have. But it ends, my dear. It ends.”
“You do not frighten me, abomination,” he retorted hotly.
“You act as if you are in the right. You are a thief and warlord, all you want is my ship. It is nearly time to pay for your transgressions.”
“You’re just going to execute him? Like all the others you’ve executed, not just Arkanon’s people but your own? Why do you do this, Joraq? Are you truly mad?” Elarra questioned, almost tauntingly.
Joraq let out another one of her cackles and replied in agitation, “Destiny matters not, Elarra. Only certainty. It is with that certainty that I take these actions.”
“What have you seen to make you so callous? Why have you chosen horror as your lifestyle?” Elarra responded.
“The horror, yes the horror. I must remember you’ve not seen it. You don’t know what is out there, inhabiting other galaxies. You’ve not seen what comes. You don’t know the end.”
“What end? The galaxy’s end?” Elarra asked, alarmed.
“Oh dear no, my child. The galaxy is most certainly gone, by then, all matter dissipated over time scales you cannot even comprehend. I have seen the heat-death of the universe.”