Balance of Power: The Blackened Prophecy Book 2

by Oganalp Canatan

  “Incoming!” was all the warning they had from Lieutenant Commander Jong before anyone could brace or hold on. The rattling that followed was quite the experience, even for the two most-seasoned officers on board. Rebecca saw Ga’an was thinking the same thing, his face a mixture of shock and anger.

  “What the hell was that?” Rebecca yanked off her seatbelt and helped Ga’an up.

  “Plasma fire, ma’am. The old husk is firing at random.”

  Rebecca muttered under her breath, and Ga’an said something foreign to her ears along with the same tone. “If one of those things hit us, we will be both revealed and crippled.”

  Ga’an was near the main display already, punching the holographic buttons. “The plasma shots are leaving a corridor in their wake.”

  “Radar gaps. They are punching holes through the cloud.”

  “It is a miracle they did not hit anything volatile yet, Admiral Conway.”

  “Damn it! Mr. Belins, how are your calculations coming?” Rebecca realized her right hand was twitching again.

  The lights of the bridge reflected off the navigation officer’s greasy hair. “I can get an alignment lock, but I cannot calculate where that hole leads to, ma’am.”

  Rebecca touched her communicator. “Mr. Stefanu, do you know if there are any jump holes in this system?”

  The mercenary responded a moment later. “I’ve never been in any expeditions, but smugglers and the Brotherhood use jump holes around these parts. I’m guessing it leads somewhere closer to populated areas. Like backdoors.”

  “The core systems?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I will take ‘maybe.’” She nodded at Lieutenant Belins to punch it.

  “Ten minutes, ma’am.”

  The red alert siren echoed throughout the ship, followed by announcements in an angry Ga’an’s voice, rushing everyone on board with his curt, to the point instructions. “Keep at your posts. Fight like soldiers. Do not die.”

  Rebecca hoped they would be able to cope with that last part.

  Another plasma passed right by the new Deviator, skimming the shield and shaking the superdreadnought even more.

  “We are revealed,” a shriek from Lieutenant Commander Jong announced. “There is a direct path between us and the old husk!”

  As if to confirm his statement, Ga’an’s prerecorded voice called for evasive maneuvers, the intermittent siren waking every sleeping soul. Rebecca wondered if there were any personnel still asleep under the circumstances. “Someone kill that alarm. I believe everyone from here to Sirius heard that we are under attack.” Rebecca was near Ga’an, staring at the radar display. “Mr. Jong, now is a good time to test that arxenon mine theory. Find me a working stern-side turret and fire at will.”

  “Aye, ma’am.”

  Hydraulic pumps released the compressed gas, and large bay doors opened one by one on the new Deviator's husk. Mechanical arms and gears, awakened from their deep sleep, grumbled at the dust covering their artificial bodies and pulled out the pulse cannons one by one. Each turret turned its barrel at their now more-organic-than-metal pursuer. All twenty of them fired at once, sending light blue balls of destruction back through the corridor the enemy’s plasma shot had created. However, their target was not the enemy but the nearby pocket of volatile arxenon gas.

  “Oh boy…” Rebecca gave a breath, whispering. The moment one of the projectiles from their pulse cannons reached the gas formation, the unstable substance ignited with tremendous force. The pocket’s ellipsoid representation on the screen enlarged faster than any of the ships could move. “Brace for impact!”

  When the waves of burning arxenon reached Deviator, it felt to Rebecca as if she was in a car accident, one moment calmly sitting in her driver’s seat, the next rear-ended by a cargo truck at maximum speed. Despite the superdreadnought's excellent stabilizers, she felt the bridge shift from under her feet with tremendous speed and force. For a second, she even felt as if she were flying. Everything happened in slow motion, and she could observe the horrified faces of her crew. Even Ga’an’s eyes bulged to their limits as his angular face passed her, flying toward the navigation panels.

  Rebecca thought she was yelling. Was it orders? Was she telling them to be careful? She wasn’t sure. She felt numbness in her back and legs as she landed hard on top of a rail. She heard a cracking that could have been the ship crumbling under the sheer force of the explosion or her backbone.

  And as if it was a passing moment of daydreaming, the slow-motion scene came to an abrupt end. Rebecca tried to scream but spouted blood instead, soaking her white uniform. Darkness coated the command section. She sought to turn her head, but her neck wouldn’t obey her. She worked to speak again, only to vomit more of her precious red fluid. Was she drowning? She wasn’t sure, and she realized she wouldn’t be protesting it if it was the case. She was a soldier, the captain of a mighty ship. It would only be fair to go down with her as maritime tradition dictated. And gods knew, she had tempted the angel of death more than a few times already.

  Her ears rang, and her eyelids were closing more than she would have liked and not opening as much as they should. Someone passed her. She could only see the legs. Not that it mattered much, but she was relieved to see at least one crew survivor. Was that Ga’an crawling? No, the Nucteel was simply too powerful to be broken like her. She must have been imagining things. The crawling man’s mouth moved, his eyes wide with fear, but everything was muted except for the ringing, and everything was in black and white. She was slipping, her eternal sleep waiting for her.

  Everything was black and white, except for a pair of red dots hovering before her.

  Twisted eyes, Rebecca realized. Those were eyes.

  EVERYTHING YOU TOUCH...

  Ray looked back at the old man one more time, his twentieth probably since they had landed at the asteroid hangar. Cavil was panting, his face flushed, but way more alive than when Ray first saw him in the infirmary.

  “I am fine. Stop looking at me,” the priest scolded. “Your space magic mumbo-jumbo helped.”

  Ray wasn’t so sure. When Sarah first brought him to Brother Cavil, he was stable, but it wasn’t due to his body’s own efforts, but because of modern technology, the nano-bots they had injected. Ray was nowhere near understanding the extent of his powers, and so far, he had focused on destruction, not resurrection. He grimaced as he accepted it was Sim’Ra’s understanding of the stones that helped concentrate his energy on healing. Ray had never thought it possible to direct Serhmana’s power in that way. Ray’s anger was shifting from this Baeal to the Architects day by day. Sim’Ra had committed atrocities, yes, but so had he, although they were unforeseen consequences of his actions. The old man would never understand, not when the assassin Sim’Ra sent had killed Brother Cavil’s father in cold blood. In his defense, the Baeal told them he had never ordered the slayer to kill anyone. Still, Ray and the stones—it was Revan Caius’ incompetence in killing Ray that caused so much trouble, creating a vacuum that pulled everyone inside.

  Ray snorted. If Revan Caius had killed him before he could use the stones, things would have been significantly different. Ray wasn’t sure if it would be better or worse, or if he believed Sim’Ra not ordering anyone else to be killed. He had Elaine, at least.

  “You are leaking.”

  “Mm… What?” Ray looked down at his pants.

  “Not from your… you know,” Brother Cavil waved his hands exasperatedly. “From your canteen, you are spilling water, boy.”

  Ray looked back at the water trail. He must have lost more than half of his water. He smiled and tamped down the lid. Brother Cavil grimaced and moved past Ray. Of course, it wasn’t about the water. It was about Ray letting Sim’Ra help him revive Brother Cavil. The old man hated the alien and with good reason. Ray had put him in an awkward situation. And perhaps, he didn’t want to come back after seeing Bunari.

  “He will never accept the gift, Lohil.” Ray hadn’t heard Sim’R
a approach. “He blames me for his father’s death. And he blames you for his planet’s.” Sim’Ra and Ray both looked up at the sphere of death hanging over their heads, a huge reminder of everything distasteful about this journey.

  Ray felt anger rising in him. The Devourer had sounded sincere about her regrets, but then there was this. Bunari was now an alien critter nest. They had approached the planet, but the stones warned Ray before they even made it to the outer atmosphere. No matter how powerful he was, it would require a tremendous effort to fight so many creatures, even in the Devourer’s absence. Tens of millions, hundreds of millions, Ijjok had told when he asked about the numbers. Once this was over, he had to find a way to unmake all the destruction.

  “You have the power to change things, Lohil.” Sim’Ra smiled as if reading his mind. “You can undo the damage done by Her, by the Architects.”

  “You’re betting an awful lot of chips on my hand. Why? What’s your real game, Sim’Ra?”

  The tall alien only smiled, his eyes flickering.

  “Seriously, cut the evil man act.”

  “I see a future in you, Lohil. You are more than you see and accept. You will come to realize this, and I will help.”

  “What if I don’t want your help?”

  “I can only offer,” the Baeal bowed.

  Ray clicked his tongue, quickening his steps to catch up with the rest. The last time they were here, Crater was an awful town where brutal force and poverty ruled. It was a cesspit, but it was a working cesspit, not that he had witnessed much of the day-by-day interactions from inside a cell. Now—now it was a no-man’s land. Without Joe’s oversight, people fought in the streets for food, possessions, and their lives. No rules of engagement, no one to enforce a law, no matter how bad or crooked. And this was, again, Ray’s doing. Wherever he stepped in, with or without intention, things changed. If he couldn’t change fate, he should at least try and steer it in the right direction. People had always fought for survival here, but far more brutally now.

  “Will Fox be all right?” Sarah asked as he came near her. “I can see lots of reasons for someone to try and steal her. This place is even worse than what it was a year ago. I thought that was impossible.”

  “Samir placed a remote beacon signal that’ll alert us if anyone passes the shield barrier.” Ray pointed at the seasoned soldier who took the lead, talking with Elaine, and Eras following them close behind. “If someone tinkers with it, the autopilot’s set to take off and land somewhere remote outside the colony.”

  “All right. Why didn’t we use the gunship to go at this rift ourselves, rather than taking the long road?”

  “We don’t know the exact location of the rift, Sarah. And you said the fog’s an issue. We need a guide.”

  “Yeah, things look different than I remember from the last time I was around these parts.” She threw a disgusted look as a dirtied, large man took a step toward them, his eyes fixed on their backpacks.

  Before Ray could react with his powers, Sim’Ra was there, removing his hood and revealing his face. Their would-be attacker halted, his eyes shifting from the bags to the black depths of Sim’Ra’s gaze. Sim’Ra didn’t even have to raise a hand before the man turned and ran as if he had seen the devil’s face. Ray couldn’t help but think that wasn’t far from the truth. Sim’Ra had out the Aram spear he had taken from his brother but quickly covered it with his robe as the necessity died away.

  “We do not want to attract any more attention to your powers than we should.”

  “She knows I’m here,” Ray said. “She is expecting me at the temple after all.”

  “I understand your interaction with the Devourer is enlightening, Lohil. I am simply advising caution. It could be a trap or a ruse to take you down with ease. Even if you are putting your trust in Her—to which I strongly object—you should always be wary of the Architects.” Sim’Ra pointed at the infested Bunari. “One found you on that planet, after all.”

  Ray nodded slowly. He was right. What the Devourer had shown him was genuine, he knew it, and the stones confirmed it when he asked them as the witnesses of time. But he had also seen the Architects’ treachery. There was no limit to their ambition and the vile deeds they would do to achieve.

  “Would you have killed him?” Sarah said, nodding at the still running man. “You pulled out that spear. The Algh’ham Marak one.”

  “If need be.”

  “Come on,” Ray gently pushed Sarah forward. The others were already ahead, reaching the second platform's main stairs where Joe’s Bar once was. The neon lights were long gone, but the structure was standing.

  Sarah let it go and quickened her pace. “If there are any rangers left here, we’ll find one upstairs—or someone who knows a ranger. Cesspit or not, one establishment always stands strong in such places.”

  “And that is?” Sim’Ra was behind the veil of his cloak once again.

  Sarah shrugged. “The bar.”

  ***

  “After all that has happened, it is somewhat disturbing to find that this place still stinks the same.” Brother Cavil pulled a piece of a handkerchief from one of his pockets and covered his mouth. “I think I will vomit.”

  “Brother,” Ray touched the old man’s arm, and the priest startled. His face softened, but Ray hadn’t missed his initial shock. He was either afraid or disgusted by Ray after seeing Bunari, that was certain. “They say there’s still a market inside the cave one level below. Why don’t you guys go there and see if they have kumat?”

  The name kumat opened doors, and for the first time in a long time, Ray saw a genuine smile on Brother Cavil’s face. “Kumat!” He turned, collected his robe’s cuffs, and dashed out of the building crying, “Kumat! Kumat!”

  “Samir,” Ray whispered to the seasoned soldier standing by him, “take Elaine and the boy and stay with them,” Ray pointed after the rushing priest. “Don’t hesitate to use your guns if things go south. It’s hard to believe there really is a market still working here. You may be safer away from here anyway.” He looked around the bar. He remembered some of the goons’ faces, but none of them remembered theirs. Even Sarah was a stranger here. They had been inside the putrid hole for less than ten minutes, and already two fights had broken out over a card game, one ending with one player shooting the other and screaming threats. The barkeep, oblivious to the motionless body on the floor, showed his displeasure with his own shotgun. No one else batted an eye or put down a drink.

  Captain Samir nodded. “Don’t worry, Ray. I’ll take care of them.” He signaled the young ones to follow him, gripping his assault rifle firmly and following the emotionally unstable priest in his quest of kumat.

  “Now, to the task at hand.” Ray sat at the bar near Sarah. Sim’Ra stood at the far end in silence, staying in the shadows as much as possible. Things had changed since Bunari turned into a bug den, and people would be extra careful with a tall, dark alien hovering over them. Ray wondered why the Devourer left Tarra alone. Because of the rift, perhaps.

  “…No questions asked. Just get me a connection,” Sarah was saying over her drink. “God, what do you put in this?” she winced.

  “Sarksis grains.”

  “Those things growing up in the sewers?”

  The fat, bald bartender grinned toothlessly. “Damn straight.”

  “It explains a lot. Anyway,” she gently pushed the glass away. “The ranger.”

  “There’s one in town. He brought some supplies for one of Joe’s old lieutenants, but the man double-crossed him, and things got bad. Word’s that the ranger’s being held at one of the caves below. He didn’t give the goods, not telling where they are. Stupid if you ask me. If there was a chance of him leaving this alive, it’s gone now.”

  “But the ranger’s still alive, right?”

  “A few fingers less maybe, but still kickin’ from what I heard.”

  Sarah nodded. “Thanks, five bottles of the finest wine as agreed.” She pulled the bottles from her backpac
k.

  “Seven.”

  “Don’t even try it, buddy.” Sarah turned to Sim’Ra, standing silent in the shadows. “My friend there,” she faked a dramatic sigh, “he’s not too good with math and may think you’re ripping him off.”

  The bartender narrowed an eye, judging Sim’Ra for a few seconds, then smiled, revealing his gums again. “My bad, it was five.”

  “Good.” Sarah turned to Ray. “Would you mind doing some light shows?”

  “Sim’Ra says I shouldn’t.”

  Sarah smirked. “Fine. But we still have an alien with a deadly spear, build like a guard tower. We have me and Samir, who can fire guns and who have assault rifles. And we’ve got a demigod who doesn’t want to use his powers but who can if need be.”

  “Can’t we just buy our way with Samir’s wines again?”

  “Nah, he doesn’t even know I took these five. I’ll tell him to meet us at the entrance after he takes the kids and the old man back to the gunship.”

  “Sim’Ra,” Ray waved for the tall alien. “How big of a ripple would it cause if I raised a small shield with Yrrha.”

  Sim’Ra’s face was unreadable. “It should not be much if you keep it small.”

  “Small it is,” Ray said, standing up and leaving for the door, a smirking Sarah following behind. “Bring out that sharp stick of yours.”

  ORGANIC FARMING

  “Horrible.” Gabriel sighed, taking up another apple from the stand to inspect it. “Not fresh enough, not big enough, pale color.” He took a bite from the apple. “And most definitely not tasty.”

  “Hey!” A rough-looking man with a dirty apron stood up from his seat behind the fruit crates. “Pay first, then eat, buddy.”

  In all his life, Gabriel Cavil was proud of one thing above all else, his knowledge of fruits and vegetables. He had worked at the farms of Bunari as a part of his education in his youth. He had seeded and planted and harvested all his life at his small garden hidden deep inside the forest. His beautiful forest, full of energy and tranquility. If there was anything Gabriel Cavil was sure of, it was that no trader could rip him off with substandard goods, not like he had been ripped from his serenity by this cruel, cruel fate.