Titan Race

by Edentu D Oroso

  Nursing his great wound in the midst of his colleagues, the leader bawled. “Damn, he’s got me! Kill the fool! Kill him now!”

  His second-in-command, a wiry man of average height with blistering eyes, took a lethal sword swipe at Netu. They heard a deep crunch as if a bird’s bone had broken into two as Netu deflected the sword towards a Secthwean on his left hand side. Netu’s burning sword sundered the Secthwean’s sword, and took with it the poor fellow’s foot.

  A few seconds later, two guns thundered from the direction of the horde in the vague skylight. Netu repelled the shots with a quick motion of his left hand. He noticed his sword again transforming into a pump-action gun, with which he sprayed deafening rounds of salvos at them. The Secthweans’ cries in the crossfire rent the evening’s silence. Fate, yet, had a bigger surprise for Netu.

  # # #

  Wisdom Hall, Disk Center, Blackhole.

  Numa paced back and forth close to the Command Module mains in Blackhole's Wisdom Hall, his mind ravaged by deep thoughts. Inflamed by an intuitive disposition, he could not resist the urge to look at the backdrop of the Command Module, where the time screens were situated.

  The first time his sweeping glance went in the direction of the screens, the scenes of Riagena flickered into view, appearing normal enough not to worry himself or the other Guardians. It had other images. Some of the various Playhouses of the Guardians across the galaxy were also harmless by his reckoning. However, they did not call him patron of the Blackhole for nothing. A prophetic gift and rare acuity into the past remained a part of the lining of his consciousness. He called forth and dispensed of such foreknowledge, at will. Though he fought the desire to ignore the screens, his intuitive nature, gave him keen insight into the danger regarding the Guardian in Riagena. Thoughts of their PlayToy loomed in his mind.

  The monitors drew his attention for the second time, and he thought, Why such an impulse? Certainly, our Playhouse must be on the boil again.

  The screens converged into a singular screen as his thought waves aligned with the scenes. Netu's soul drifting away from his body and subsequent flight over the expanse of Newland appeared on the main screen. Numa observed Netu's gradual increase in altitude and felt a sense of elation in the manner the athletic thirty-three-calendar old Guardian, whom they called Finia in Blackhole, tried to master the sea of ether. The way Finia manipulated his soul's flight, especially in his new disposition as the PlayToy's Guardian after a faltering start, amused Numa.

  Just then, Numa saw the horde of fast-approaching Secthweans from beneath Finia's flying form. How right his intuition had been! Danger! His huge wings stopped their gentle flutter as he became engrossed with the scenes of the Playhouse.

  The energy-field oozing forth like a film of gas on the vague floor of the Wisdom Hall increased in intensity in consonance with his thoughts. His eyes, sparkling and enchanting like the essence of a Blackhole's radiation, dimmed now as his brow arched in thought. The furrows on his kindly, feline face added layers of age to his otherwise time-defying handsomeness when seen in the light of his close-cropped gray beard, moustache, and flowing white dress.

  Numa glowered reckoning with the scheme of things on the PlayToy.

  "This must be it. I bet our Guardian is on the scale once more. Let's see how he fares this time."

  Meanwhile, Ramune, a towering Guardian, a suave character with an aquiline nose and light-blue eyes, regarded as the witty one of Blackhole's bunch, walked into the Disc Centre along with Hemse, a fellow Guardian.

  "Another Guardian on the grille, Father of the Blackhole?" Ramune asked.

  Hemse could barely wait for Numa's response; his deep-set, brown eyes flared, probing. Hemse had a way of lurching his broad shoulders upwards to boost his near six feet if worried about a thing. Numa's inference to the Guardian, in Riagena, had pricked his curiosity.

  "We got bathed in your thought waves. We thought it wise to check what possibly could be amiss," he said, jerking his shoulder for emphasis.

  Numa ignored Hemse. Instead, he pointed at the monitors with his brow kneading. The aerial battle between Netu whom they referred to as Finia in Blackhole and the Secthwi cult came across as enough evidence of his worries. The three Guardians watched in silence as Finia took on the Secthwi cult, stunting at times so low, and then soaring in desperation so high, all in the bid to escape to safety from their swords and use of the Power of the Sacred Light.

  At a point, Finia's victory seemed certain to the Guardians for they felt it too ordinary. Yet, they observed how he made a quick detour to Sapphires Street, Newland, Riagena when the chase became too fierce for his comfort. In spite of it, the Guardians nursed no fears until the Secthweans aimed an array of pump-action guns at Finia. This apparent disadvantage caused by the Secthweans' numerical strength and weapons against Finia made them glance at each other with a faint hint of apprehension.

  Hemse's impatience glared in his restless shuffling of legs, which left quaint scars in the cloudy film of gas on the floor of the Disc Centre. "Could this be a floundering of a Guardian or what? Can't find the right words to explain Finia's weakening of spirit."

  "It's a question of their numbers and weapons," Ramune said. "I'm not sold on the idea that Finia is scared. Maybe a bit disadvantaged. That's all to it - a fundamental disadvantage."

  "He ought to ride on the crest of the storm; turn his situation into an advantage. It demands our support, though."

  "Certainly.""And fast too."

  "I guess you're right, Hemse."

  "There's no alternative, of course. We should intervene before the Secthweans overwhelm him. We won't let them run roughshod over a Guardian, do we?"

  "Let's have a moment's silence, both of you," Numa warned.

  Numa walked in haste towards the main screen with his translucent and glowing wings fluttering once again behind him. Ramune and Hemse fell into step in silence behind him to the edge of the main screen. By Numa's gesture, they sensed the drama about to unfold. His dark brown eyes were steady and fixed on the time screens.

  Just as the gloating Secthweans lifted their guns in unison to shoot, Numa touched Netu's profile on the main screen with an outstretched forefinger. An instant shock-wave passed through Numa's finger's across the vast sea of the constellation to Netu's soul on Sapphires Street, Newland.

  Numa withdrew his finger from the main screen of the Command Module with a sense of great assurance, but kept his gaze transfixed. Ramune and Hemse watched in silence, their expectations heightened by Numa's melodrama.

  # # #

  Netu Deo's sudden awareness of an electrifying power within became acute. He shuddered like a boulder on the verge of a fall, but it fortified him instead, and his confidence returned like a surging sea as he heard the rat-ta-tat firing of the Secthweans' guns.

  The bullets from their guns, as Netu noticed, hit a vague protective shield around his body and fell to the ground like a pack of cards. He laughed, taunting at them. An intervention caused by the Guardians had taken place in his favour.

  Netu shot his hand forward with renewed confidence and set to projecting a vortex of energy with his bare palms and fingers towards the Secthweans. Incandescent light sped forth from his hands in their direction. Adepts at such matters, one of them close to Netu lifted a marble pillar at the edge of the pavement with the powers of his mind and hurled it at Netu with an unparalleled force. The yanked pillar shuttled towards Netu who, on sighting it, flew away from its path.

  Another Secthwean caused a fountain nearby to break into two and teleported the remaining half like a swift missile towards Netu as he touched down on the far side of Sapphire Street. Netu did not see this coming but turned in a blink of an eye. He sent it ricocheting towards the Secthweans.

  Aided by an incredible will to survive, Netu's offensives were on target.

  With both of his hands stretched forward in a cyc
lic motion, he projected spirals of light like a thousand laser beams converging on the clusters of the Secthweans on his right side. They countered the blinding light by linking their hands in a phalanx. In a concerted twirl, they reversed the luminescence ascended towards a high-rise building on the left, where it came crashing as if a bomb had been unleashed on the edifice.

  A few giddy moments later, Netu got himself into a tight corner in spite of his safety mechanisms. An indescribable force-field projected by the leader of the Secthwi hit him in his right rib cage. It hurled him off his feet like a pebble in flight and sent him crashing into an open window of an adjacent building.

  Hurting from the tidal waves of pain all over his body, Netu's breath almost failed him as he choked and coughed. He tried to rise, shaking off a million stars in wild dance in his foggy brain, but found it difficult. Then he heard the noisy advance of the Secthweans cursing and howling some meters away. He had no choice but to get up and fight. It took him quite an effort to get back to his feet. He then went on a daredevil attack causing more destruction to their ranks.

  The Secthweans' projectiles hit him a couple of times more, but without much damage. When Netu's strength began to fail him with few of them left in the fray, he rose in languid motion from where he had fallen for the third time and like a whirlwind, disappeared. His disappearing act caught the Secthweans unawares, ending the confrontation.

  Meanwhile, with Netu's vanishing, his higher-self reeled back to its body on the red rug at the corner of his bedroom in Newland where he had been meditating, still quaking from the import of the fight in the other realm. His eyes opened micro-swirls later as he re-entered his body and took a deep breath of relief. He became once more aware of his physical environment. In the safety of his bedroom, no Secthwean tormented his soul, and the other sphere of many battles no longer reared.

  The night had just drawn its curtain. Netu's meditation reminded him of the struggles ahead. He did not bargain for them, yet they had become part of his manifest destiny as an incarnate Guardian. He wished this aspect would unfold in a different way.

  # # #

  "Well, not a bad learning experience for Finia, I must say," Numa, Blackhole's ageless patron, theorized to no one in particular. The Guardians had observed Netu's disappearance in the midst of the Secthweans on the main screen of the Command Module in the Blackhole. "It isn't too impressive either."

  Though Numa directed his words at no one, Hemse and Ramune knew it meant a kind of signal of an unspecified agenda. Certainly, one they would all help to script and act in accordance with Blackhole's mandate.

  "I almost gave up on Finia a moment ago," Ramune began as a way of engaging Numa in his line of thought. "But, I -”

  "Really?" interjected Hemse.

  "There were moments I thought he wouldn't sail through."

  "How do you mean?"

  "But he proved quite resilient in his handling of the heady bunch of humans."

  "I disagree, Ramune," Hemse said.

  Ramune sensed some kind of contradiction in his fellow Guardian's remark. "I don't get your drift."

  "When the Secthweans became trigger-hungry, Finia was at his wit's end. Numa's intervention mopped up his apparent mess. He should have fared much better, you know, Ramune."

  "What's the meaning of your insinuation, Hemse?"

  "You heard me."

  "Are you of the opinion he failed the test?"

  Hemse shook his head. "Not my line of thought."

  "What are you thinking?"

  "He has been our eyes in our Playhouse in other aeons."

  "I know," Ramune said.

  "It presupposes a superior intelligence and conditioning, one meant to withstand the onslaught of the Secthweans or those of similar hue."

  "You're probably right, Hemse. But don't forget he is in a new body."

  Hemse shot Ramune a shrewd glance. "So?"

  "Of course, it means a totally new experience. You know how these things play out, Hemse."

  "I don't. Tell me, Ramune."

  "Enough of the banter," Numa chided, his eyes flashing with wisdom. "Fellow Guardians, there's ample work for us."

  "Okay, Father of the Blackhole," Ramune and Hemse said in unison

  "From our observation a moment ago, it's crystal clear our PlayToy project is still a long shot from its grand finale. We are certain it has just begun. It entails going back to our laboratory right away," Numa explained in earnest.

  Ramune's incomprehension glared in his shifty eyes. "What lab now?"

  Numa ignored Ramune's question. "Ramune, you will shuttle down to Riagena in a matter of micro-swirls. I expect you'd play games with Finia when you get there."

  Numa turned towards Hemse and looked him straight in the eyes. "Your task is rather simple. Hemse, liaise with the Martian Guardian and instil their war instincts in Finia. You'll take him through the Fiery Furnace. When he is through, he should be finer than a diamond. I'll keep a tab on both of you while you're gone. I'll join you later if need be. Be gone!"

  "Yes, Father of the Blackhole," said Hemse and Ramune.

  Chapter Two

  Sagol Sea, Newland, Riagena.

  Ramune and Hemse where specs compared to the void in Blackhole when they micro-swirled to Riagena. Despite Hemse’s experience Ramune was expected to continue Hemse’s assignment and for now they considered it better to work as a team.

  Netu thought back of the surprise attack when a whoos of wind exploded, a portal where Hemse and Ramune appeared in his bedroom.

  Netu's excitement showed in his arched brow. "What a pleasant surprise, fellow Guardians!"

  "Finia, we are embarking on a little trip right away," Ramune said.

  Netu's higher-self wheezed out of his body and stood watching its grossness with a sense of bewilderment.

  "Where are we headed?" Here is Netu Deo, and over there is Finia, he thought.

  "You'll know when we get there. Are you ready?" Ramune said, in an urgent but calm tone.

  Finia walked to the bedroom door. "Lead the way then."

  "This way, Finia," Ramune pointed at the wall opposite Finia's stationary body. "We are going this way. After you."

  Finia's gaze slid toward Ramune and then at Hemse, suspicious. He knew just what they meant, in spite of his fugitive mental state.

  "After me?"

  Sensing Finia's hesitation, Ramune reached for his left hand and held it gently. In telepathic accord, Hemse held Finia's right hand. With part of their wings providing a buffer behind him, the Guardians breezed out of the apartment wall with Finia, the night sky awash with starlight. Finia's body remained in its meditative posture in the bedroom corner, where it had been.

  Outside the main gate of the one-story building, they stopped for a moment. Here, they relinquished their hold on Finia and pushed him forward.

  Projecting himself skyward in a swoop of wings, Ramune said with great glee, "I guess it's time to be upward bound. Fellow Guardians, to the beach of the Sagol Sea at the eastern edge of Newland we go."

  Hemse also projected himself over the air currents like a swift bird. "Right after you. Be airborne, Finia."

  "Sure." Finia raised both hands and exerted a slight downward pull on the air currents, feeling a surge of energy released from within. The next moment, he found his higher-self airborne. Though he flew without the aid of wings as the other Guardians, he rode the airwaves with as much ease.

  The three Guardians rose in swift bursts above the tapestry of Newland's skyscrapers and kept a steady northern course. Then they veered toward the Sagol Sea. Some micro-swirls after, they saw the great expanse of water roiling and rolling eastwards from the stretch of beach that separated it from the highbrow sections of Newland.

  In his usual soul flights, Finia had seen from a vantage point in the sky, the spectacular scenes provided
by the sea and its life forms. Yet, he could not help marvelling each time he had the privilege of seeing it all in one stretch of the imagination, the mystery of its many hidden civilisations. The thought that they were probably uncharted or unknown to man, made him smile; and the notion of what more meets the eyes thrilled his heart as he flew over the sea.

  With Ramune leading Hemse and Finia, they flew further seaward in silence. After a stretch of about five nautical miles into the sea, Ramune sped ahead of his fellow Guardians and then turned course without warning. Now facing Hemse and Finia headlong, he charged and thrashed out with his wings at them. Hemse who had prior knowledge of the move dodged the blow of Ramune's powerful wings.

  Caught unaware in the scheme of the Guardians, Finia lost his balance in the air. He gasped as he plummeted toward the Sagol Sea, trying everything he could in the circumstance to regain control of the flight of his soul.

  "Why in the name of Blackhole did you hit me with your wings?" he cried in-between gasps, trying to recover from the plunge.

  Hemse and Ramune, now facing the same direction, in psychic agreement, thrashed out in unison with their wings at Finia, forcing him to plummet further down. Finia tried to counter the effect of their thrashing by building a force-field, preventing his descent into the sea.

  "Can somebody explain what this is all about?" Finia’s plaintive cry went.

  Contrary to Hemse and Ramune's expectations, Finia did not nose-dive into the sea due to his counter-measure. He took instead their subsequent blows with a force of will, determined to defend self if they gave him no plausible reason for the attack.

  "I need answers right now, Hemse and Ramune."

  When no answer came, and he realized their intent to force him into the sea, Finia flew upwards and tried to strike back at the Guardians - a necessary evil, since he had no clue to why they had attacked him. They left him no other choice.