“What’s that ‘bout cleansin’? I’m not one for cleanin’ up and smellin’ pretty. I personally like a little stench; it adds to my charm,” Krath protested while rubbing his gritty chest, causing flakes of dirt to break off.
Plexo looked at him with disgust in his face. “Well, I find your odor to be offensive, and the filth is detrimental to my instruments on board this ship. So please, if you will, place these garments on, and I will show you to the cleanser. If you require privacy, stand up against the wall to the far right of the corcybliator and place your palm against it,” Plexo instructed.
Crix and Kerriah each took their garments and walked over to the wall, placing their hands upon it. As they did, walls emerged around them individually, and like most of the walls there, they poured out like fluid before taking their solid forms. Krath just dropped his pants and shirt in the main room and began to change into the white garments.
Plexo looked over at him appalled. “Simply revolting! You have no self-dignity, do you?”
“Nope. None whatsoever. What about tya? Tya just run around in tya birthday suit all the time; why are my parts so offensive?” Krath replied as he ripped the top fitting it over his large torso.
“As Luminars, we don’t have any distinguishable reproductive organs protruding from our bodies, and we keep ourselves properly cleansed, so there is nothing to be offended about,” Plexo explained with his head deliberately turned away from Krath.
Kerriah and Crix emerged with their white garments on and their old ones in their hands. “Now place your soiled garments in front of the corcybliator,” Plexo said.
They placed their clothes as instructed, and he told them to back away. As they stepped back, the floor where the clothes sat rose up. Plexo said an indistinguishable word, and a swirl of color appeared before him. He pushed his fingers into the colors, and the clothes separated into their individual pieces. The pieces one-by-one broke apart into smaller and smaller fragments until they were mere molecules floating in the air. Then, with a snap and a loud swoosh in the air, the molecules merged back together, and the garments dropped down and then were lowered back down to the floor.
Without hesitation, Kerriah leaned down, picked up her clothes, and held them up inspecting them. “Amazing, they look better now than when they were new.” She placed them up against her body to make sure they would still fit.
“The corcybliator breaks items down to the molecular level and reconstructs them, removing all impurities, and at the same time, discovering conceivable methods to improve them without compromising the original purpose of the item itself. It’s a highly intellectual instrument,” Plexo explained. “Now, before you put those on, I must ask you to step onto that concave section of the floor over there. I believe you all will fit if you stand close together.”
Krath moseyed over to the edge of the cavity and peered up at a cone-shaped device that was only a meter above his head. “So what sorta contraption is this?”
Plexo looked discontentedly in Krath’s direction. “That, my Hybor friend, is the source of freedom from parasitical microbes and offensive plumes of stench that emanates from your hulking frame.”
“Hybors like to have a little reek to us. In fact, our females prefer a stinkier male.” Krath blew under his arm in the direction of Plexo.
Plexo scrunched his face in utter revulsion. “Please, just step into the cavity as this will only take a few seconds.”
They snuggled together in the cavity, and Plexo swooped and swished a small batch of the floating colors. The cone beeped several times in rapid succession until it sounded like a continuous, high-pitched tone. Black and white rings shimmered downward rapidly over the three. Then, all of a sudden, the beeps halted and the rings faded. They looked at one another curiously as their appearance had changed slightly. The air was devoid of any scent and was now completely sterile. Their skin had a smooth glow and appeared more youthful.
“The Volcrum purifier not only neutralizes and draws away all contaminants from your bodies; it also does the same of all your dead skin, thus your enriched appearance. This is as clean as you will ever be,” Plexo explained.
“You look really handsome Krath,” Crix joked as he elbowed Kerriah.
“Shut tya mouth before I give tya a good wallopin’. This is humiliatin’. I need to find a good ole pool of stagnate marsh to take a dip in just to regain my dignity back.” Krath stomped over and snatched up his clothes and angrily thrust them back on. His normally cracked and crusty flesh now appeared smooth and shiny.
After getting dressed in their original attire, Plexo led them back to the main lab and to the teardrop seats below the spherical control center. “Take a seat and try to clear your thoughts. I would like to show you something.”
Krath, already irritated, snarled out, “This ain’t gonna do anythin’ like scrub out my guts, is it? Cause I just about had it.”
“No, no . . . certainly not. This will tap your conscious into my observation drones, which I have scattered throughout the system. This is the most efficient way to get you caught up with what has been occurring and what you need to be prepared for,” Plexo replied.
Krath chuckled. “Observation drones? How tya getting’ those past Marck detection systems?”
Plexo paused for a few seconds before answering. “Well, I must admit that I have lost a few of them. Fortunately, I have them programmed to self-destruct if they are ever compromised to keep my location here a secret. The biggest problem I have had to date is simply getting a view of Nathasia.
“The Marcks have the planet so heavily quarantined that it is virtually impossible to get within any sort of observational distance of it. In fact, they have shrouded the planet with a light disruption cloud, which I have yet to find a way to penetrate. I find it quite intriguing; you cannot observe the planet with even the most powerful optical sensors. All they return are shadowy distortions. There is also a sizable Marck armada there, and a rather bulky ship that my sources have informed me is responsible for generating the disruption cloud. It’s been this way for almost three years now and has me gravely concerned.” Plexo stopped and took a deep exhale, shaking his head and looking slightly fraught. “Anyway, it would be better if you see for yourselves. Now relax and tilt your heads back into the seat.”
A few seconds went by, and there was a sploosh as narrow beams of light poured down from the small tubes in the sphere above them and contacted their foreheads. Their bodies instantly went numb, and they found that they could no longer physically move. Plexo’s voice came from inside their heads, similar to a voice that would be in a dream.
“I would have warned you of the side-effects, but I was worried you might not understand that requisite for Arc Stasis. For your minds to be unrestricted enough to travel, you must give up your body temporarily. You see, Arc Stasis projects your minds through the observation drones. This connection gives you the exact view, smell, reverberation, and feeling you would have if you were actually there.
“It’s quite an extraordinary device I must say, and one I’ve spent much time in recently. That is how I was able to locate you. Of course, you spotted my first drone near Drisal and aptly evaded its presence. Fortunately, when the attack began on Troika, I located your transport breaking out of the region, which brings us here.” Plexo paused for a few seconds. “Let’s have a look first at what is happening to certain areas of Soorak right now.”
Their minds felt a sturdy pull as if being drawn through a duct, unable to resist its attraction. The blackness slowly pixilated into a vivid, panoramic view of a small township filled with a mix of clear and opaque domes. A cityscape of white and red cylinder-shaped buildings sketched across the horizon in the distance. The only noticeable sounds were the whistling of auto-tracers and zipfoils flashing through the skyway pipes high above and the groans of the wind occasionally gusting between the structures. The air, however, had an abnormal smell. The scent was not particularly strong, yet it was subtle and similar to
rubber or the toxic chemical that would come from melted plastics.
An occasional resident would walk by at times with a subdued expression on their face. These rigid figures neither smiled nor frowned nor spoke; rather, they stiffly trudged by as if in a trance. Something just didn’t feel right, and there was a sense of emptiness in everything around them.
“Do you notice something that’s flawed here?” Plexo asked.
“I’ve been in isolation for a long while, but shouldn’t these shops and eateries be full of folks this time of day?” Krath responded.
“Precisely! There is no one around aside from a token roamer for a very logical reason. These Mendacs are no longer a . . .” Plexo paused and then shouted in frustration. “No . . . no!”
They turned around to observe a resident standing mere centimeters from them. Garbed in formal work attire, he stared directly at them as though he could see into their minds through the drone. His eyes flashed a blazing orange light, and his mouth opened slowly letting out a shrieking buzz. The terrible noise was loud and had an irritation level similar to that of an alarm system. Their view went black in an instant.
Plexo sighed. “It appears that my drone was detected and destroyed once again, hence breaking our view of Keirtol. I’m afraid it’s happening more often lately.”
Crix squirmed in his seat. “What is wrong there? What were you about to tell us?”
“The township of Keirtol is no longer a town, rather a test subject for a secretive plot to Marckanize all living things in the Oro System.”
A deep feeling of confusion poured into Crix’s thoughts, as he started looking to Plexo for reassurance that what he just saw was not real. “Those people are no longer alive? They have somehow been transformed into a sort of Marck? Why and who would want to do this?”
Krath interrupted before Plexo could reply. “Tya can bet it’s that worthless bag of dirt Zearic and his corporation Sinstar, who has also illegally taken control of the Marcks, even though he denies it.”
Plexo confirmed Krath’s assumption. “I’m afraid you may be correct. Though my probes have not been able to get close enough to him to either confirm or deny his involvement, I suspect he is not alone in this.”
“Really? Who else would be behind it?” Kerriah asked.
“Ohh . . . I believe the Marck Central Core is at play here . . . the queen.”
“Tya what?” Krath was not excited to hear the answer.
“Yes, from what I have been discovering from the little bits of information that have leaked through my sources, this central core actually has a persona of a queen by design. I know little else of this queen, but you can be assured that if Zearic is working with this persona, who thinks itself a queen, that the relationship must be a contentious one given that Zearic sees himself as our assumptive monarch. This possibly strained relationship could work to our advantage, as dismal as it appears on the surface.” Plexo explained his theory.
“Ahhh . . . great,” Krath grumbled. “Just what we needed, someone else that thinks themselves better than the rest of us. What’s worse is we created this one.”
“I may add that Keirtol is not the first town that this travesty has befallen upon. There have been several others, and the pattern suggests that a smaller community was used first, and then followed by larger ones. I fear the next will be a major metropolitan area. The pattern I have observed thus far is that the leaders are transformed first, making it easier to apprehend the remaining populace, individual by individual. If anyone were to suspect something was happening, with whom would they file the complaint? The local Marck control station? I’m afraid the citizens of the Oro System put themselves into a grave position when they created this supposedly independent Marck security force.”
“Not everyone agreed to this,” Krath said.
“Nonetheless, I need to show you more. As you may recall, I mentioned Nathasia, and I will show you what I have been able to see.” They all closed their eyes and leaned back into their chairs. The pulling sensation ran off with their minds again, and the scene pixelated into a view of a grey planet. The sight of it was haunting, a hazy green shroud poured over the planet, spilling out a short distance past its spherical lower edge. Hovering above it, an immense ship with a device that looked like a giant trident hung beneath it. A green shadow appeared to emit from the trident, and many other warships there kept their distance, though still lurked nearby.
“As you can see, I cannot get a view of this quarantined planet. My drones are swiftly destroyed if they get anywhere in proximity to the garrisoning fleet that surrounds it so meticulously. There is something malevolent going on there, and one thing I’m certain of, whatever it may be, it will not be pleasant for any of us. There is a more important reason that I show you this cursed world.” Plexo paused as if to wait for inquiries that failed to come. “The yellow orb is there still.”
“The what?” Krath snarled out in contention. “Tya know that thing was vaporized in the Meutor Valley by the Vico Legion during the second Thraxon War. Plexo, have tya lost your radiated mind?”
“No, not at all actually,” he calmly replied. “There were only three of us that knew of its whereabouts, and I assure you, it was amply safe from that blast. However, I had to still play the part and act as though it was destroyed. You see, the orbs can never really be destroyed, at least not by conventional methods . . .” His voice softened.
Deceit was not part of a Luminar’s culture, and that show of dishonesty was something that Plexo grappled with for a long time. However, it was for a cause worthy enough to cast his ethics aside, but not without cost. He looked up with sorrow in his eyes.
“This terrible war has torn away pieces of me. Much the same for everyone that was involved in it.”
His face appeared distressed as his memories of twenty years ago raced back. Leaving the three of them in Arc Stasis for a few extra minutes, he pulled himself out and stepped away to reflect on the painful memory of when he had to betray his sacred morality. He needed this moment. His mind was drifting hard into his woeful past.
CHAPTER 13
Twenty years ago . . .
P lexo, do you have a read on this? Plexo, do you copy? . . . Plexo?” Corin, though relieved to see Thraxons withdrawing, was almost more concerned over the arrival of the Marcks. “I have the feeling something’s gone wrong. I’m going to check on him. Stay with the legion and let me know right away if you encounter any Marcks.” Creedith nodded in agreement. Floating upward, he took off over the horizon to the rear command base where Plexo was stationed.
Corin slowed as he neared the base and dropped down behind a chunk of charred wreckage. Directly above the base hovered an Elgon class transport ship with its deployment bridge lowered. Elgon transports were small ships used to deploy and extract ground forces. The side of the ship bore a familiar symbol. He had seen it before while sitting in on an early demonstration of Marck prototypes.
There were about twelve to fifteen sentry Marcks positioned around the structure. Corin cautiously approached the base, but as he hovered in closer, one of the Marcks took notice of his movement and pointed the business end of his rifle toward Corin.
“Halt, lethal force has been authorized.” The blue-tinted Marck sputtered in a deep, unrefined voice as though speaking through a pipe.
“Stand down. I am Commander Corin Emberook; I’m the governing command over the Nathasian System and the Vico Legion.”
Two additional Marcks approached and trained their rifles on Corin. “Halt, lethal force has been authorized.” The same command was given from each in the same unrefined voice as they approached.
Memories of Marck design screens from months ago flipped through Corin’s mind, data provided to familiarize himself with the new, elite, high-tech force. The original plan from UMO command control was for him to act as a commanding military advisor over the Marcks until the final transition was completed. Corin steadfastly refused that offer. The thought of leading wha
t he referred to as “mindless metal monsters” was utterly absurd.
The Marcks before him now were security and not designed for military operations. They bore a lighter grade armor and weaponry as this made them more practical for civilian installments. They were slender with exposed, ball-hinged elbows and knees. Corin was now even more curious who was inside, but he had a deep suspicion he knew who it was.
“I guess I failed to make myself clear then. I’m entering my base, and you will stand down.” As Corin continued toward the entrance, the eyes flashed on each of the Marcks, and they opened fire.
Corin rolled to the ground while throwing up a defensive barrier that defected several glancing shots. He pushed a two-fisted energy blast at the closest Marck, bursting it into shards. Grabbing up the Marck’s blaster, he placed two well-aimed shots disabling the other two. From around both corners of the compound, the echoes of winding servomotors approached. Corin squatted down on one knee and positioned both arms straight and lowered his head. From around the corners, the Marcks emerged as Corin pushed out simultaneous energy blasts, blowing them into fragments that scattered to the ground.
A sturdy, metal door to the compound in front of him slid open vertically, giving a loud, mechanical whir mixed with grinding metal as the mechanical components moved against the dust and grime embedded in it.
“Commander Corin!” a stern voice called over the outdoor communicator. “Come inside and grace us with your presence.” Corin knew this voice all too well. He was not thrilled hearing it come from within his science command station.
Zearic. Their association had soured by Zearic’s plot to steal the yellow orb, which ultimately led to the destruction of the Nathasian civilization at the hands of the Thraxons. Following in the legacy of his father, Raucass, Zearic was always ruthless and driven by a lust for power, and he firmly believed that all other species were inferior to the Mendacs.
Age of the Marcks Page 15
