The image of the King shook his head. His expression became said.
“Koba and Ivfa were real,” he said, “Koba became the first true King of Dendon. Ivfa was his guardian and mate. Together they united Dendon and began the age of the Shining Civilization. And there was a man who helped and guided them. But who he really was we have never learned.”
I waved my hand toward the doorway.
“But all those drawings…”
The image of The King–or whoever he was–shrugged.
"The legends are many," he said, "Sometimes a good story is more instructive than a half-known truth."
“But what about those dreams you showed me?”
“Again, they were instructive.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “To me or you?”
The King spread his arms and smiled. “For both of us. I had to know the depths of your soul. And your true character.”
I pressed my hands against my aching head.
“So this was all some game? Where’s Liz?”
The smile disappeared from the image of The King. He folded his hands in front of him.
"You Liz is still in grave danger," he said, "You must save her. This is no game, Chris. This is your Challenge. The fate of many lives will rest on how you face this final challenge."
“Slaying a dragon? Are you kidding me?”
The King shook his glowing head. “You must best the Dragon. To kill is no challenge.”
I groaned. “What? Am I supposed to beat it at a game of checkers then?”
“You will know when you find the Dragon,” The King said.
I leaned against the shimmery wall. “I don’t understand any of this,” I said, “Why all the lies and runaround?”
The King was still for a long moment. Long enough that I thought whatever program was running him had glitched out. But then he moved. His face took on a look of deep sorrow.
Anger welled up within me. This time it was my anger. I was sick of being manipulated. Every second I’d been on this planet I’d been yanked around by the Dendon’s unseen strings.
“The Dendon race is extinct,” The King said, “Our world is dead. Never again will we have the opportunity to right the wrongs we have committed. To apologize for our failings. To repent for our arrogance.
“Our race lived for a long, long time. Perhaps longer than we should have. But our journeys took us many places. We have done many great things.
“And many terrible things.
“Unwittingly, we were the architects of our own doom.
“All that is left of who we are is the device inside you. It is Dendon. But it is not a Dendon. You have been entrusted with a crushing responsibility, Chris of Earth.
“You must make sure that our legacy is not the destruction of all life in the galaxy.”
I pressed back against the wall. The chill in the room suddenly went all the way to my bones. I sucked in a breath of coppery, spiced air, that only spread the chill further through me.
“What are you talking about?” I said.
The image of The King closed his eyes. He bowed his head for a long moment. Part of me knew this was just programmed responses. Something some long dead Dendon programmer had slapped together millennia ago.
But it still sent shivers through me.
The image of The King finally raised his head and opened his eyes. The look of intensity on his face made my gut twist.
“The Dendon race was clever beyond measure,” The King said, “They believed themselves more intelligent, more clever, and more capable than any other race. They spread their technologies far and wide. Technologies that were visible and technologies that were difficult to find.
"It was only in the last generation that the leaders of Dendon, their King, realized the danger of what they had done. They were in the process of pulling Dendon technologies back to the homeworld.
“They saw the terrible things they had wrought. And were appalled at what they and their ancestors had done. If other races–races who were not mature enough, who could not exercise restraint–if those races achieved unfettered access to Dendon technology…
“The entire galaxy could die in a sea of fire.
“But before they could retrieve their engines of destruction and safely destroy them or lock them away…
“They perished.”
I held up my hands.
“Wait,” I said, “How could the Don slip in a maker bomb? You guys had the best defenses in the galaxy, right? You invented makers. Why couldn’t you protect against them? The Don technology couldn’t be any match for yours.”
The glowing image of The King nodded.
“But they did,” he said, “The Don turned out to be more clever than the Dendon. And, most importantly, they turned out to be vicious beyond measure. That was our hubris. We did not believe such an attack was possible. Because we did not believe any race would go to such lengths to rid themselves of an enemy.
“In another age, we might have been as vicious as the Don. We might have foreseen their attack. And possibly preemptively attacked them.
"But Dendon had been contracting. Pulling their outposts in to the homeworld. Removing themselves from the politics of the union of races. They wished to become a force for peace. They had grown weary of the roles of conquerors and parents. They desired, more than anything…to be left alone.
“To the Don, the Dendon were a threat, no matter how they might speak of peace. To the Don emperor, HeJov, the Dendon were a sword hanging over his people. At any time, the Dendon, with all their power, might decide the best thing for the galaxy was to rid it of the Don.
"HeJov, being patient, being clever, and being vicious…threw his scientists into solving the problem of Dendon. And, in time, he did.
“No empire is forever, Chris of Earth. No King can hold onto power until the end of time.
“That is why you are worthy to become King of Dendon. You do not desire power. You do not crave adoration. You are suspicious of power and those who seek it.
“I need you to become the steward of the Dendon legacy. I need you to dismantle and make safe our works. I need you to work quietly to guide the galaxy toward peace. If you can.
“It is too much to ask of you. But I must ask it none-the-less.
“And I ask you to take this last step and accept the final Challenge…Best the Dragon.”
Fifty-Eight
Chris
I ask you to take this last step and accept the final Challenge. Best the Dragon.
I stood with my back pressed against the coppery, silvery shimmery wall. In the small, circular space at the top of the hollow column at the center of the Ministry of Records. The air was cold and scented with copper and spice.
An iciness that went beyond the chill air soaked down into my bones.
At the center of the room was the glowing, holographic image of the Dendon King. Whether he had ever been a real person didn't matter anymore. Most likely, he was an amalgamation of a whole line of kings.
Or maybe painted whole cloth from someone’s fevered imagination.
Sometimes stories are more instructive than facts.
I’d been lied to left and right. The Dendon device inside me had played me. Told me stories.
Time machines and time loops. Horrific battles and relentless enemies…
No.
The time machine had been my fevered imagination. Thinking back over what the Dendon had told me…never once had he explicitly come out and said there was a time machine. Or that The King was looping back in time.
But the Dendon hadn’t been strictly honest with me, either. It led me on. Let me think I was supposed to save Dendon from itself.
Which, was sort of true. If I was to believe the Dendon–or The King–I would save Dendon by way of saving the entire galaxy from Dendon’s scary toys.
But first I was supposed to best a dragon. Whatever that was supposed to mean.
So I could save the galaxy from De
ndon’s finest toys?
I had no way of knowing what was real in this crazy place.
“Which of your stories are true, your highness?” I asked, “If any.”
The glowing image of The King smiled again.
“You already know in your heart what is true and what is not,” he said, “That is how you won your way to this chamber, worthy warrior.”
I stifled a groan.
I so did not want to be here.
But being here seemed to be the only way I’d get back to Liz.
“Fine. What do I have to do?” I said, “And don’t tell me I have to Best the Dragon. I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean.”
The King nodded.
“You must find the Dragon,” he said, “From there, your heart will tell you what to do.”
I waved my hand in his general direction.
“My heart mostly pumps blood through my body at varying rates of speed,” I said, “Last I checked it was my brain that tells me what to do. And it makes better decisions when it has information. So how about a little info, O’ Kingly Dude?”
The King shrugged and gave me a sad smile.
“The Challenge is different for each,” he said, “I could no more tell you how to complete your Challenge than I could know my own.”
I put my hands up to my head. Which was aching. My arms and fingers were still burning from the near-death climb I'd just endured.
“Wait a minute,” I said, “Would you have really let me fall to my death back there?”
“If you had not found your way to this room, you would not have been worthy,” The King said.
“Not playing around, are you?”
“It is not a game, worthy warrior,” The King replied, “If you succeed, you will be entrusted with power unlike any being has ever held. If you cannot control your own destiny, you might become the greatest murderer of all time.”
No pressure or anything.
“I still think you have the wrong guy, Mr. King Dude,” I said.
The King looked away for a moment. When his eyes returned to me, his expression was blank. Like all the life had been drained from it.
For some reason, it scared the hell out of me.
“Only time will tell,” The King said, “But for now, we will proceed as if you are the right being for the job, shall we?”
“Fine,” I said, “Where’s this dragon? So I can go best it. Or whatever I’m supposed to do.”
“You and the dragon shall find each other,” The now expressionless King said, “But first, you must claim the sword.”
“Sword?”
The King stepped aside. Well, floated aside. Where he stood was a beam of light. And within that beam of light…
A sword.
It looked somewhat look like an old Earth style broadsword. Though a little thinner. The blade curved and tapered wider toward the point. The hilt and guard were a coppery bronze color and were simpler and undecorated.
All in all, it looked like a pragmatic piece of equipment for chopping and stabbing.
I raised an eyebrow at The King.
“Really?” I said, “I know absolutely nothing about sword fighting. And, I thought I wasn’t supposed to slay the Dragon. That there is an object designed for slaying, if I’m not mistaken.”
A little animation came back to The King’s face. A slight smile quirked the corner of his mouth.
“Take the sword,” he said, “Use it as you see fit.”
I thought back to the dream the Dendon had shown me. The last one, where Koba confronted the Dragon. Of the Dragon confronted him.
Koba had thrown away his sword and armor.
And immediately regretted it.
But he had faced the Dragon without the sword. Hadn’t he?
The Dendon hadn’t shown me how that particular episode ended. It seemed I was going to have to finish it myself.
I looked down at my hands and flexed my aching fingers. I still didn’t feel like I was healing. Normally the pain would be gone by now.
“So am I on my own now?” I asked, “No help from you?”
The King shook his head. “You must face the Dragon with only your courage.”
“Do I at least get to wear my pants?”
The King gave me another blank look.
“Just kidding,” I said.
I eyed the sword. Dubiously. Then I eyed the King. Who arched an eyebrow.
“So…I just grab the sword…?” I said.
“You must claim the sword,” The King said.
Which didn’t quite sound the same as grabbing it. If I’d learned anything dealing with these crazy Dendon A.I.s, simple was not how things were done.
I contemplated the sword. So…if I was some crazy tall, skinny Dendon dude on the cusp of Kinghood, and I was instructed to claim a sword as my next step on said kingly journey…
How would I go about it?
Would I just say: Hey, that there sword is mine. So gimme it.
Hmmm. Probably not.
The sword shimmered inside the glowing column of light.
I took a couple steps closer to it. The ghostly image of The King seemed to watch me, his eyes following my movements.
Which was just ridiculous. Maybe some hidden cameras were watching me. But The King was just a clever projection.
So how would the next King of Dendon claim the sword?
How would Koba, the reluctant King of Dendon, claim the sword?
I took a deep breath. Spread my arms out and closed my eyes.
"I have been told I am worthy. I reject those judgments. The only worthiness is a clear conscience and humility in the face of the universe's ever-unfolding surprises. I will do the best I can for those I love and those in need. If that's not good enough, then feel free to go to hell. I claim this sword, in the name of hoping I can figure out how to do the right thing. Without killing anyone. So there."
I opened my eyes.
The sword still hung in the column of light.
But The King was gone.
I stepped forward. Reached into the light and wrapped my fingers around the sword’s hilt.
I pulled it out of the light.
The column of light disappeared. The only light in the room came from the sword’s blade. It glowed with a strange, white fire that licked ghostly flames up and down its length.
The sword wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t light.
It felt exactly right in my hand.
Which scared the hell out of me.
Sudden musical ringing sounded out behind me. I spun around and hurried to the doorway.
The steps were coming back up. As each one locked in place, it rang with a clear, crystal sound.
I sighed and ran my (still aching, damnit) fingers through my hair.
Whatever the test had been…apparently I passed it.
Fifty-Nine
Zek
The door to the building stayed stubbornly locked.
Until it suddenly opened.
Commander Zek, nominally in charge of the Don battlecruiser The Hojan’s Murder, and lately an escapee from the metal horrors that had attacked and made off with his six guards, had tried both his plasmas blasters on the door. And his armor’s enhanced strength.
Neither of which seemed to affect the door at all. He was considering going back to the excursion craft and using the ship’s laser cannon on the door when it opened. All by itself.
Immediately, he fell back, raising his forearm-mounted plasma cannons at the dark opening.
This planet continued to confound and confuse.
He had seen the light at the top of the tower and surmised that one of the Earth creatures had somehow gained access. And if the creature could open doors in this dead city…well, that would be very useful, wouldn’t it?
The Earth creature might be able to control those metal monstrosities that ran off with Sergeant Kyn and the other guards.
Which would be exceptionally useful.
Zek brea
thed in the metallic stink of his armor and his own sweat. The tentacles on his head itched. The armor was quite formfitting. His parts shouldn't itch. But then, his armor wasn't the high-end sort of equipment the Lords and Dukes of HeJovna got, was it?
Giving those pampered tit suckers such fine armor was a waste.
Of course, they might need it if the ordinary citizenry of HeJovna ever decided to rise up.
Did the great Emperor, HeJov, realize how precarious his empire was?
A sound jerked Zek out of his reverie.
Something like…music?
He moved slowly toward the doorway. He turned up the gain on his night vision. The inside of the room became a grainy patchwork of shadows and light. The inside of the building seemed to be a smooth, curving edifice. At the center was a single column of material. Some sort of support structure?
The sound grew louder. It reminded him of the crystal bells that had been a popular fad in the HeJovna capital.
Until Emperor HeJov grew tired of it and ordered all the bell ringers executed.
HeJov’s taste in music was mercurial.
Zek ordered his tactical systems to seek targets. The ringing sound seemed to be coming from the central column. There was another sound intermixed with the music. A sound vaguely like…whistling?
Light brightened at the base of the column.
The suit’s targeting system locked in on the right edge of the column. He held the fire control ready.
A figure stepped from the column.
It held a lighted stick of some sort on its shoulder.
Zek adjusted the intensity on his night vision until the figure resolved.
The Earth creature.
Zek locked his plasma blasters on the creature.
It walked toward him. Whistling what might have been a tune, but was more nerve-jangling than musical. The creature was about the same height as a normal Don male, though one that would have been hideously disfigured.
The creature had no head tentacles. Just a fuzzy cap of floppy fur like on a lobster bear. The thing’s face was rounded and blobby. Quite unlike the aesthetically pleasing triangular shape of a Don face. And its skin was some sort of pasty, blotchy mess.
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