All the while, Krath continuously grumbled to himself. “Great, now we’ve got ole glow rod dictatin’ what we are doin’ . . . followin’ Marcks around, getting’ pushed here, and then there . . . having to listen to him brag about the orb he stole . . . strippin’ me of my fine odor. What a friggin’ nightmare.” He stopped complaining as the passageway opened into a large room.
The center of the room contained a low-sitting, round table filled with various foods that appeared to have been prepared minutes before their entering. Krath’s eyes widened and his mood lifted. “Lectian and ego worms! I haven’t been able to sink my teeth into some of those in years.” He lumbered over to the table and began to throw back the food. Slurping up the slime from his hand, juices sprayed and oozed down his chin as he reached over for another fistful. The well-adorned table was loaded with vessels of dark green worms, piles of bright colored fruits, racks of meat, and pear-shaped containers filled with various juices.
Kerriah looked at Krath with abomination in her face. “Uggghh! I was just about to partake in those seared pamenilas, but I’ve just lost my appetite.” Crix spotted a neatly stacked pile of purple fruits, grabbed two, and rubbed one against his shirt before he took a bite.
“Well, it’s disgusting, but I’ve seen worse. Besides, I’m ravenously hungry, and it’s going to take much more than that to turn off my appetite at this point. You should eat something; you’re going to need your strength.” Kerriah picked up a yellow, star-shaped fruit and rubbed her thumb across its rutted outer layer.
“I should, but I’ve always been able to go long periods without sustenance anyway, longer than most.” She looked up at him as if wanting to confide about something, but she remained silent for a few minutes and watched them eat.
Around the walls were several receded areas with built-in gravlock sleeping units. Kerriah looked over to the receded area furthest from the dining table, grabbed Crix by the arm, and pulled him in that direction. Crix, with fruit still in his mouth, dropped the fruit he was holding and stammered clumsily over with her. She motioned for him to sit. The suspension zone boosted them upward like a pillow of air, and she gently settled down next to him and placed a hand on each of his arms to gain his full attention. She discreetly looked over and took note that Krath was still fully engrossed in slopping down the most pungent items on the table and casting the scraps carelessly to the floor. He hardly even noticed they moved.
“Crix,” her tone was soft, “I feel . . . I can trust you, and we have well . . . you know, something between us, something I just wish we had some time with a little less chaos going on to explore.” Crix set the half-chewed fruit down, and his eyes opened wide like a child as she now had his undivided and focused attention.
“Anyway, I need to be forward with you regarding me. What I just told you about food is true, more than you may be thinking. I have gone days, even a week, with hardly a bite to eat and have been barely affected; don’t get me wrong, I still feel hungry and will eventually eat, but I don’t get physically weak like most will, at least not as quickly.” Crix leaned his head back a bit as if to take a broader look at her.
“Really? That’s incredible! What about water? Do you need water?” He started trying to recall if he observed her drink anything since they met several days ago. He was intrigued.
“Not constantly, like most everyone else, but I do feel warm, at times, and a cool drink does bring my temperature down, but I do not get dehydrated like you do.”
“I . . . I don’t even know what to think. It’s a little strange, but it certainly doesn’t change the way I feel about you.” An assuring smile warmed across his face.
Kerriah lowered her head slowly and then looked up again into his eyes. “I pretty much have learned to accept those oddities about myself, and then today, while plugged into Arc Stasis, while you were seeing images, I saw nothing. At first, I wanted to say something, but then I realized that the only reason I did not see anything was due to my issues, and then I was too self-conscious to say anything. So I sat quietly and listened to your reactions as to what was being observed.” Crix settled back and tried to dissect in his mind what she told him. It was a difficult context in which to reply as he was not sure if his reply might come off as insensitive or even rude. He decided to tell her what his thoughts were and hoped that it would not be offensive.
“What you’re telling me seems almost like more a blessing than a curse. I mean at least it’s a good thing that your body can withstand starvation and thirst so well.”
“Actually, you’re correct in that regard and others. I’ve never been sick, never, and was always highly athletic and top of all my classes in intellectual scoring. Just like in Annexis, I was able to catch on quickly, where others, I would imagine, have taken years to be competent players. It’s just always been that way for me. I’ve tried to keep this hidden from others; in fact, you’re the first I’ve told this to. I’m sort of an anomaly, and though it may be difficult to understand, most of the time, I just wished to be normal. I don’t feel like I can have relationships. This, whatever this is, always gets in the way . . .” Her voice quivered, and she placed her hand over her face. Crix gently pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her small frame.
“I understand, trust me; I understand more than you realize.” He was not about to diminish her need for him to listen. However, he was tempted to explain his youth growing up as a different species in Troika with the orb whispering strange words into his ears and many Andors unwilling to accept him into their culture. Instead, he placed his hand under her chin and gently lifted her head. She removed her hand from her face to see his eyes.
“You should have Plexo take a look at you. After all, he has all the technology here to probably find out what’s making you so exceptional. Believe me, you are nothing short of that . . . exceptional.”
She snapped away looking at him with disgust in her expression. “No! I’m not going to be prodded like some sort of lab rodent.” She puffed out a forced breath and turned away with her arms crossed. “I really thought you would have been a little more understanding, guess I was wrong; you’re just like everyone else.”
Ahh man . . . damage control time. “No—no—no! That’s not at all what I meant. It’s just that if you better understand yourself and why you are different, it may help you to coexist with these gifts and even use them to help with the challenges in front of you.”
Exasperated, she pulled away, and then innocently cocked her head sideways. “I know you didn’t mean anything negative, and I’m sorry for snapping at you like that. It’s something that really gets me emotionally charged, and I don’t think I’m ready to hear what the truth is yet. I’m afraid of how it may change things.”
Crix gently touched her back and shoulders; her muscles were tense. “Don’t worry, Kerriah; I understand and have no problem with your differences at all. I want you to know that you can always talk to me about anything you need. I was actually going to have Plexo look at me regarding some of the strange things I’m feeling with the orb since I have been using it. I don’t expect too much, but I need someone who knows this thing better to help me.”
She brushed her hand across the side of his head, whisking her fingers through his hair. “I’ve noticed that more and more of your hair is turning white recently. I like this new Tolagon look. It makes you look more distinguished.”
CHAPTER 16
C rix waited until things settled down. Kerriah did not appear to sleep often, so this was a unique opportunity to slip away. He looked back into the room and observed Kerriah and Krath sleeping soundly; well, Krath was snoring like an old motor struggling to start up with every breath. Crix chuckled to himself and strolled in the direction of the lab; as he walked, he felt a strange push, and the further he went, the harder the pressure became until he was unable to go any further. It was as if the air grew denser until it formed a solid barrier.
“Eetak!” he called out. Within seconds
, the Eetak that escorted them into the living quarters earlier appeared moving toward him from the other side. It approached within a few meters and stopped, saying nothing.
“I need to speak with Plexo.” It remained motionless for what felt like several minutes before motioning him to follow. The resistance faded instantly causing Crix to stumble forward.
He followed the Eetak for a while, and the corridor path changed. And even though he should recall its direction from earlier, it strangely felt that it was going in a completely different direction. The Eetak disappeared around a corner, and as Crix turned the same corner, he found himself inside a hangar. A bronze ship with a flat but wide hull sat waiting flanked by two smaller ships. Eetaks milled about busy with tasks. Plexo stood upon a tall pedestal with glistening controls surrounding all sides. He noticed Crix and called out.
“Ahh—Crix Emberook, so what brings the pleasure of your company? You should be resting with your companions as I have a challenging day planned for you tomorrow.”
“I would like you to take a closer look at me and tell me more about this orb that lives in me,” Crix replied. Plexo immediately stopped what he was doing and stepped out onto an almost invisible step that lowered him down to Crix like a bird gliding down for a gentle landing.
“What exactly do you mean?” Plexo asked, intrigued by the question.
“I mean this orb; since I have been using it, I feel different.” Plexo cut him off before he could go any further.
“No. That’s not what I meant. You said the orb lives.” Crix paused for a long minute before responding, and Plexo moved in closer, his eyes trained on Crix’s.
“I can hear it speak to me, but I just don’t know if it’s the orb or me going mad.”
“Have you had any visions?”
Crix recalled back to his struggles to keep the orb bubble up. “I’m not sure if this is what you mean, but I did have some haunting images flashing through my sight once when I was using the orb.”
“Yes, that is common with Tolagons when they overuse the orb’s power. In short bursts or with minimal power usage, like levitation, you won’t have any images, but when you draw upon it heavily, you will see them, and they are always frightening, from what I’m told. The great Tolagons were able to learn to suppress these images, or at least ignore them.”
Crix thought back to the creatures in his visions. “I’ve seen these creatures, monsters that were ravaging everything around them. They looked at me as if they wanted nothing more than to do the same to me. Do you know what they could be?”
Plexo appeared distraught over this question. “It’s difficult to say, but the orbs have their origins from Cyos, the great living nebula, and I could only surmise that whatever you are seeing is from some dark corner of the universe that they have once been exposed to.” Eager to change the subject, he placed his hand at Crix’s back to bid him to follow. “Come with me.” They exited the hangar out a small door to a room filled with transparent, round tanks that contained blue and silver fluids and a single table in the middle.
“Please lay back and relax on the table.” Crix quickly complied, lying back and noticing a series of light-filled conduits directly above him. Plexo placed his hands together and pulled them apart, giving way to swirls of colors, some of which Crix had never seen before. His fingers wiggled as the colors mixed and swooshed around. “Now, just clear your thoughts and try to hold still; focus on the dot on the ceiling.”
A tiny, dark spot appeared on the metallic ceiling and moved in an S-like pattern so slowly that it almost put Crix into a trance-like state. The conduits snaked down closer to Crix, and light poured from them like water from a faucet. The light immersed Crix’s body until it vanished from view. Only the blue orb was still visible, searing through the illumination.
A razor-thin screen dropped down from the ceiling in front of Crix. Plexo turned to look at him through the screen and immediately stepped back startled. He placed his hand on his chest in bewilderment. Plexo was not one to be easily shocked and could not recall the last time he was truly surprised about anything. He gazed intensely into the screen for a while, and then cautiously leaned in for closer inspection.
“Well, very fascinating, indeed. Aren’t you full of surprises, my youthful friend?” he said to himself but loud enough for Crix to hear, though he was still entranced. “This is certainly a twist of events, but I don’t think now is the time to disclose what has been made clear today.” He took a few more minutes and adjusted the light intensity, panning the screen in closer and further out, trying to get as much detail as he could. He turned around and moved some color swirls around with his fingertips, and then the light drew back up into the tubes, leaving Crix as he was. “You may wake now,” Plexo instructed. Crix’s eyes dilated before he gave them a firm rub with his palms and then sat upright.
“I feel like I just had enough dreams for three nights’ sleep. How long was I out?” Crix asked, groggy.
“Not long, though being ignited as you just were, can trick your mind into believing it has slept for many hours.”
Crix waited for a minute, and Plexo continued to look him over with an intrigued look on his face. Crix could feel the anxiety building. “Well . . . what did you find out?” He asked. Plexo had no intention of disclosing what he had found at the risk of distracting the budding Tolagon, particularly at the eve of which so much was about to be expected of him. However, he would give him a fair answer.
“What you are feeling is the orb binding to your very own molecules. It is a perfectly natural thing that all Tolagons went through as they began using the orbs. As a result, the only way it can be released from you is either willingly or by death. Accord et decimate, as the old Tolagons used to refer to it. The voices are a little more difficult to explain, and I’m not convinced what you are hearing is the orb.” Crix jumped to his feet.
“What do you mean? I’m going crazy?”
“No, let’s just say that there are some things that will unfold soon, and when it does, you will step back and question everything about yourself. I also firmly believe that, in the end, you will be the paramount model of what a Tolagon exemplifies. But not all things can be disclosed at this time; as such, knowledge given prematurely will destroy what is to be.” Crix stepped back, frustrated from Plexo’s unforthcoming stance, yet understanding for the moment and siding with trusting in his wisdom. “Now go get your rest. I will send for you in the morning and bring you back to the hangar area.”
Crix turned to walk away, and then abruptly stopped. He needed to get one other bothering concern off his mind. “Have you heard of anything regarding Troika’s fate? Is there anyone or anything left there? I mean, did they destroy it all?”
Plexo’s expression turned bleak, and he wished that he would not have to be the one to answer this question. “I am sorry, young Tolagon. The Knactor Legion does not take prisoners or leave survivors. True to their reputation, my probes have shown me only the grimmest images of Troika. Do not let this information break you or fill you with hate. Rather, use it to galvanize your own will to take on your role as Tolagon and tactically shut down these Marck forces. That is the best way to honor your fallen home.”
He felt dark, and his face froze as he stared down at the floor. Crix tried to pull his thoughts from the abyss. It was hard not to fall into feelings of despair and vengeance. He knew what Plexo was telling him was the right way, but he was going to have his own internal battle to face. He looked back up at Plexo and nodded somberly before walking away.
“Crix. Before you leave.” Plexo pulled his attention back from the sorrowful place for which it had slumped. “I realize this is a difficult follow-up to what you have just learned about Troika, but I feel it’s worth mentioning.” Crix turned back around still appearing disheartened.
“I had removed Corin’s body recorder before Creedith took him back home on the day he was mortally wounded. What I had learned from the recovered video was that Corin had draw
n a portion of the Marck forces away from us and, in doing so, stumbled across an industrial building filled with algae. This mutated algae appeared to feed on any energized components. More importantly, it did so quickly. He was able to use these algae as a weapon to destroy the forces that tried to prevent our escape from Nathasia. I can’t tell you much more, but this information may be useful later in your quest. When you find Creedith, he may have more knowledge to offer.”
As Crix left Plexo, he could only hold his emotions together until he was out of his sight. Immediately, he broke down and cried. Tears poured down his cheeks and out from his soul. Tirix. He was his best friend since his earliest memories. He’s gone now. I can’t believe that day, after the game, is the last time I will ever see him again. Clyde, Claynor, Caspi, everyone . . . gone.
***
Crix returned to the resting chamber in a solemn mood. He pulled himself back together after hearing the news of Troika’s destruction. All was quiet except the wet hack of Krath’s snoring. He could tell that Kerriah had her eyes open.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered, noticing the dejected look on Crix’s face.
Crix did not want to discuss what was going on; he would rather lie down and stew about it on his own. However, he had a fondness for Kerriah, and it almost felt like his first love but a love that had never actually manifested into anything aside from his own hopefulness. His desire to be near her gave way, and he went to her willingly to share his sorrow.
“I just got back from seeing Plexo.”
“And?”
“And nothing. He more or less said it’s all a normal part of being a Tolagon, and the rest he cannot tell me at this time. The problem is the rest sounded like the important part.”
“There’s something else, I can tell.” She noticed that he must have been crying.
“Troika is gone.”
“I know. I’m so sorry, Crix.”
She invitingly tugged on his arm. “I can’t sleep by myself tonight; between everything darting around in my mind and Krath’s barrage of sound effects, I need someone to lay with me.” Crix slid next to her, and she cuddled up next to his chest.
Age of the Marcks Page 18
