Genocide

by Chad R. Odom

  Oryan offered his thanks.

  “Do you need anything?” the doctor asked Oryan.

  “No, thank you. You’ve done more than enough.”

  “It isn’t much, I know.” Stehli frowned. “We gave what food was in the conference center away to those who came looking, but there seemed no end to those rolls and the honey.”

  Oryan surveyed the food before him with gratitude. “Might as well be a banquet,” he uttered, dipping the bread in the honey and taking a bite. The sweetness exhilarated his charred taste buds. His mouth salivated intensely as he chewed each bite.

  “Stehli”—he tucked the food into his cheek—“what was that thing?”

  Stehli’s shoulders dropped. Asher stopped smiling, suddenly careworn, even for a child.

  “We really don’t know. We just got communication up and running. It’s audio only so far. There’s still only very limited electricity, so visual communication is patchy at best. We know the weapon’s impact split a massive portion of Vollmar’s southern border from the continent. Parts sank into the sea; others are still floating out there. The shock caused extensive earthquakes, leveled mountains in some places, while creating them in others.

  “Even Acamar felt the wrath. A tidal wave hit the beaches hours after impact, which leveled the coast for three miles inland. You already know about the dust cloud we fell under. Similar reports are pouring in from across the world.”

  Oryan wasn’t shocked. His jaw tensed slightly but his eyes remained stoic. Genocide on this scale was well within the scope of someone like Damrich. “How many…?”

  “Dead? Reports from Vollmar alone are nearly a billion. That doesn’t take into account those who died in places like Acamar, those who didn’t survive the dust cloud, and those who will die over the coming months from the effects.”

  “Where’s the craft now?”

  “Last report we received, it was traveling south, over the ocean.”

  “No one can get to it effectively there,” Oryan calculated.

  “What do you mean?” Tecton asked.

  “Well, the ocean south of Vollmar is the largest expanse of open water in the world. It would be a long time before any naval force could reach it. Air assault is obviously futile. He can move on another target with ease heading either east or west. If he doesn’t have to land anytime soon, that’s a perfect place to go.”

  “He? You mean Kovac?” Stehli added.

  “Kovac. Though I’m sure no one can prove it.”

  “On the contrary,” Stehli interjected. “That’s the only confirmed report we have. He made a broadcast immediately after detonating the weapon. We only received it today, but it was him, stating his direct involvement and warning he would do it to any country—or group of countries—that did not accept his rule.”

  It was too bold, even for Damrich. He had effectively eliminated the Archides, so that rival was gone. He had skillfully used the war to topple the Emperor and shake up the entire world’s political structure. Then he unleashed Roanoke, and now this super weapon, all so he could swoop in and pretend to pick up the pieces. He was setting things up to look like a savior, not a tyrant. Why was he doing this? It didn’t make sense.

  “Are you still willing to take my son?” he asked Stehli.

  “I don’t know what I can do against…against him, but I’ll do everything within my power to keep him safe.”

  “I’ve already wasted too much time. I’m leaving tonight.” From the corner of his eye, Oyran saw tears on Asher’s cheek before the boy hid his face. “Before I do, I’m going to spend some time with my son.” The emotion quickly overwhelmed him. Asher’s silent tears turned to sobs.

  Tecton stood, Stehli and the doctor followed, and they left the roof.

  Oryan sat with Asher who laid his head in his lap and cried. He gently rubbed his son’s back, trying to work out what to say and how to say it without breaking down himself. His son’s breathing slowed and the sobbing stopped. He sat Asher up and wrapped his arm around his shoulder.

  “I have to go, son.”

  “When will you be back?”

  “I don’t know. The men who did this have to be stopped. If I don’t stop them, they’ll take you just like they did Mom.”

  “Can’t somebody else do it?”

  Oryan wasn’t even sure he could. “Not by themselves. Just like Dad can’t do it by himself.”

  “Who’s going to help you?”

  “Anyone who wants to keep their kids safe, just like I do.”

  “I’m going to miss you.”

  The lump returned to Oryan’s throat. “I’ll miss you, too. More than you know.”

  Asher buried his head in Oryan’s side with fresh sobs. “I don’t want you to die!”

  Oryan let him cry for a moment then sat him up. Asher could see the tears on his dad’s face but also pulled strength from him. He swallowed hard and choked back more sobs.

  “I don’t want to die either. I want to come home and stay with you. But while these people are out there, you’ll never be safe. The longer I wait, the stronger they get. I love you, Asher. You’re the whole world to me, which is why I have to go.”

  Asher remained quiet but gave a very subtle and heartbroken understanding. Behind his eyes and into his soul, Oryan saw in him the strength he thought only existed in Celeste. His mouth fell open slightly. “I see your mother in you.” He unclasped the necklace. “Your grandfather gave this to your grandmother, who left it to me when she died. I gave it to your mom when we met. She would’ve wanted you to have it.”

  He fastened it to Asher’s neck and hugged him as they cried together. “You know what Grandpa told me about this necklace?” He wiped the tears off Asher’s face. “He told me if I really needed to talk to my mom, I could hold the necklace, and she would listen.”

  “Did it work?” Asher studied the jewelry.

  Oryan brushed the hair out of his face as the love for his son spread throughout his body. He didn’t recognize it at the time, but looking back, he could see the miracles in his life. He had no doubt his mother had watched over him every step of the way—the same way Celeste would be walking with Asher. “Yes, son, I think it did.”

  “Do you have to go now?” Asher asked mournfully. Oryan knew he should. Every second wasted was one that brought Asher closer to harm.

  “No. No, I don’t have to go yet. I’ll stay with you until morning.”

  When Asher woke up the next morning, Oryan was gone. He climbed onto Tecton, who held him tightly, reassuring him he would take care of him. Tecton didn’t let go, letting the tears run their course. “Your dad is the bravest man I’ve ever known,” he told the boy. “If anybody can stop them and come home, it’s him. We’ll see him again.”

  ***

  Oryan traveled from the interior of Acamar to the sea. The trip wasn’t as long as it used to be; no less than two miles of Acamar was forever buried under the waves. Oryan passed by ruin after ruin. With no vehicle to speed him along, he had plenty of time to soak in the devastation Damrich had caused. Along the way, he helped rescue efforts, saved a few lives, and buried a few more.

  When he reached the new shore, he was appalled the relief had not come here yet. Dead and decaying bodies of people, beasts, and fish were scattered amongst the lapping waves and toppled trees. One or two living souls scoured the victims, hoping against hope to find their loved ones not amongst the dead.

  Oryan did what little he could before finding a place high above the ruin where he could be alone. Once there, he built a fire, removed the lens from his pocket, and squeezed the scroll he had removed from Celeste’s necklace before giving it to Asher. Opening his palm, he stared at the crystal. He deeply regretted not having such a record to remember Celeste by. He kneeled next to the lens and dropped the scroll in. The customary time passed before his father stood in front of him.

  “Hello, son,” he said cheerfully, but the image registered his rugged appearance and Armay’s face changed. “Yo
u don’t look well.”

  That was the understatement of his lifetime. “It’s been a bad week.”

  “Where’s Asher?”

  “He’s safe.”

  “What about Celeste?”

  Oryan closed his mouth tightly, restraining the tears he still had trouble controlling. “She’s dead.”

  Oryan knew this wasn’t his father. Nevertheless, there was a deep loss in the eyes of the figure. The digital Armay took the news personally. “I’m sorry, son. How did it happen?”

  “She was murdered.”

  The image scrutinized his surroundings. He took in the leveled grass, the barren trees, and the presence of salt in the air. “The lens is telling me we’re in Acamar. I’ve been here before, but…but it was nothing like this. What happened?”

  Oryan sat on the ground next to the lens and pointed toward the edge of the rise. Armay left his station above the lens and moved to where he could see his home country as it was now, but he stopped. “Oryan, I can only venture so far forward. Please move the lens.”

  Oryan moved the lens several feet forward then returned to his silence. Armay took the last steps, and his mouth fell open. The lens now had a chance to scan the image below and interpret it for Armay’s scroll. Beneath him was the ocean mingled with the bodies of his countrymen and a land torn apart.

  “How did this happen?”

  Oryan stood and walked next to his father, looking over the scene with him. “A weapon detonated in Vollmar did this.”

  “Someone did this? Who?”

  “Lucius Kovac.”

  “Kovac? How could he? No weapon can do this.”

  “Things have changed.”

  “Then he is the enemy I hunted for. Only Damrich would be willing to do something like this.”

  Oryan truly contemplated how much Damrich had taken from him long before he took up his father’s quest. It was Kovac who ultimately sent Armay into slavery. It was slavery that killed his mother. The Agryphim had stolen his family long before they took Celeste.

  As if coming out of a trance, Armay spoke. “There was a time I thought this place impregnable. I thought, just by my presence alone, it would never fall. I believed I could protect it—the whole country—from the ocean to the mountains. I felt it so deeply I gave up everything. I loved this land so much. It cost me my life, Kathrine, you…”

  Oryan’s heart went out to him. Oryan had given up everything to liberate his father. Then, he’d taken up a cause which cost him the woman he loved. All he had now was his son. He beheld his father with new eyes. They were so alike. His father had been dead for many years, but he was closer to him now than ever before. In life, they were father and son. In death, they had become brothers.

  “How is he hiding, Dad? Why can’t we find him?”

  “If I knew the answer, you wouldn’t have to talk to me like this.”

  “Corvus said you were close. What did you know?”

  “I think we’ve been over this before, son. I told you what I know, and everything I knew was from the Oracle.”

  “The camp is gone and the Oracle with it.”

  “The weapon is potent.” The image stopped, processing what information it had. “A potent weapon and the door with no key.”

  Oryan’s eyes flashed. “What did you just say?”

  “It’s something I found out digging through old scrolls. The Arkon called it ‘a potent weapon and a door with no key.’ It never meant anything to me, but I never had to use it. Does it mean something to you?”

  “Maybe. Something Celeste said before she…she gave me this,” Oryan pulled the bracelet from his wrist and held it up to Armay. “She said it was a key with no door.” He quickly put the pieces together. It was a long shot but grasping at straws was what he had left at this point. “I have to go back to the camp.”

  “That is wise.”

  “I’ll leave in the morning. With transportation being what it is, it might take me weeks just to get to Navarus.” With the teleportation node now underwater, Oryan would have to go to the one in Navarus. He was already planning the time it would take, the modes of transportation he would have to use, provisions he needed to have and so on. The camp itself provided even more problems. The dome keeping the uninhabitable temperatures out had been shattered. By now, inside the camp was sure to be as dangerous as the outside. Even with the best thermal gear, he wouldn’t last more than a few hours in those temperatures. A rescue wasn’t possible there, so this whole plan was on him.

  “Are you ready for this?” Armay asked him.

  Derailed from his thought, Oryan had only barely understood the question. “What?”

  “I asked you if you were ready for this. If there is something to this door and key, you’ll be in completely uncharted territory. If you take this step, you take it without Corvus, without Eldar, and without me. Are you ready?”

  “I don’t have a choice.”

  “And suppose this door takes you nowhere. Suppose, after you make this journey, you come back empty-handed. What then? If Kovac is Damrich, and he has a weapon of this scale at his disposal, how will you fight that?”

  “I never knew you to be a defeatist.”

  “I’m not prone to be. I just want you to consider something: it may be too late. My missteps, Sicari’s betrayal, a thousand other decisions over the years may have forever closed the door on victory. If this gets you nowhere, what then?”

  Oryan shook his head. For him, there was no alternative. There was no choice for him except to end Damrich and secure a future for his son. “I don’t know, Dad. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

  “I never did, either. Except for being married to your mother, I never gave a second’s thought to anything except being a soldier and the Arkon. I couldn’t see past my decision to serve Acamar and to serve the Archides. I fought despite insurmountable odds.

  “I was missing something. Even then, I knew my luck would run out. My skill would only take me so far, and once I couldn’t fight any more battles, I’d be alone. My sense of duty never let me love your mother like I should have. Even if she stayed with me, we wouldn’t know one another by the time I was done. I was too driven in the wrong direction.

  “You’ve made this choice, son. You’re committed to it, and I can see there’s no changing your mind. I understand why and I commend you. It’s exactly what I did in your place.

  “If you go back to the camp and find no answers there abandon this campaign. Forget you’re my son, forget you ever heard of Archides, Agryphim, or any of it. Come back, find Asher, and hold him tight until the end. Run from the fight. Run with him. Take him on adventure after adventure until there’s nothing left to see or do. Live each second for the first time in your life with no regrets. Love him until the curtains fall on the world.”

  There was finality in his words. They sank into Oryan like a stone, dragging his heart into his stomach. He didn’t want it to be over. He wanted to find a way to give Asher not just fleeting memories before Damrich consumed everything, but a lifetime of them—free from the cruelty he had already seen too much of. Even if there was nothing there, he had to fight.

  What if Armay was right? What if Damrich had won? It wasn’t something he wanted to admit, but part of him wanted it to be true. He could stop fighting. He could never stop running, but he could stop fighting and simply live life with Asher. He would live every day to the fullest, like a patient with a terminal illness who knew each day might be the last. There was a bittersweet appeal to it.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Goodbye son. I hope, the next time I see you, you have better news.”

  Oryan shut down his father’s image, retrieved the lens and the scroll, and exhaled deeply. To the darkness he muttered, “Me, too.”

  Cadron Valac

  “We deplore this senseless act of violence, aggression, and murder,” Cadron Valac practiced in the mirror as the woman in his dressing room applied the last bit of make-up to his face. “Our
hearts and prayers go out to the victims and their families. While we don’t have a lot…No, not a lot…God, what am I, twelve? While we don’t have an abundance of resources, we pledge all we can to help mend the scars left by this tragedy.”

  He removed the napkin from his shirt collar and fastened the top button. “Yeah, that’s it. That’s good. We pledge to help mend the scars left by this tragedy. Good stuff.”

  “Three minutes, Mr. Valac,” the woman said as she gave final touches to his hair, stood back, and considered her work done.

  “Thanks, Mal.” He smiled at her. “I’d like to take the last few minutes alone, please.”

  “Of course.” She left the room, softly closing the door behind her.

  Cad had been given no time for this public appearance. Electricity had been restored the previous day and worldwide communications were finally up and running. He, like many world leaders, had to make a statement if, for no other reason, to declare what side they were on.

  He was known for his ability to speak with no prepared words. If given a topic and ten minutes, he could give a speech for the history books. That’s probably why Damrich had chosen him. It was why he courted him while he was still Lucius Kovac and then chose him when he had discarded the general’s façade.

  A grimace flashed over Cadron’s face as Damrich took control away. He flashed Cad’s PR grin in the mirror. His timing was perfect, his methods time-tested, and his ascension nearly complete.

  He’d been waiting for this for a very long time. Finally, the pieces were in place. Technology was good enough for him to dominate this world without fear from reprisals. He’d taken the minds he needed to see his weapon built and deployed. Once they were gone, he’d cut them loose on a raft in the middle of the ocean. Using old techniques, he made sure they couldn’t tell anyone what was coming. A fortunate thing he did, otherwise the finding of Doctor Mod by his own people would have cost him dearly.

  The Archides were gone, the Agryphim were either dead or running for their lives. Roanoke was on the loose, keeping everyone focused on him while Damrich unleashed the weapon that would unite the entire world under his leadership. There would come a time when he wouldn’t need Roanoke anymore. He could rule this place without rival and without question. At this point, it was only a matter of time. To think it only came at the cost of a billion lives, give or take. On Andromeda, the death toll had been much higher.