Deviance of Time

by Dan O'Brien

  “Yes, my lord. They are one light-year from the Baldorian rim, within forty-five thousand kilometers of Nemodtia. We are watching from their farthest moon for any kind of movement.”

  “Very well, I want you to set course for the military installation on the moon here in our home system.”

  “Shall I remove all of my forces, my lord?”

  “Yes. The State is planning to launch an assault on the moon, and I have every intention of making sure nothing comes of it.”

  “As you wish, my lord.”

  “Do not attack, merely hold position.” Xzin’s typical hostility was held in check with Reckson. Her strict adherence to orders made her a favorite of his, along with the fact that his favoritism didn’t seem to affect her in the least.

  “Understood. Roseblade out.” Reckson’s visage dematerialized, and Xzin returned to the darkness that he called home.

  “War. Peace. In the eyes of time they are both the same. Victor. Loser. Mere descriptive words to those who write history. But the greatest mystery of all is time. When will it end and how did it begin? Find those answers and the fabric of existence will disappear.”

  -Proverb of the Clan of the Branded

  The purple ship, Mind’s Eye, landed with a defiant hiss. Welvon’s ship, without a doubt, was one of the most intricate vessels in service. The atmospheric hatch burst open and a metallic ramp, curved like a Victorian staircase, extended to the ground.

  Welvon stepped down, flanked by two burly security men, and proceeded across the lawn to the council chambers. As Welvon refused to do anything of a physical nature, the guards pushed open the enormous doors to the cathedral-like chambers for him.

  The halls of the council were grand and wide.

  The tapestries that lined the wall were painted during a period of expressionism and reluctant darkness. Juxtaposed against the magnificent art were panels and devices that seemed only at home aboard a space vessel. The massive arch of the main entrance led to a marble pathway, which wove its way into the council chambers. Scores of statues and several androids, dressed and robed much like the councilmen, lined the path. An android turned to Welvon with a dossier in hand, his eyes glowing an undead yellow.

  “Honorable Councilman, may I be of assistance?” The android’s voice was mechanical and echoed in the vast chambers. Welvon turned toward the android and gestured for it to leave. “As you wish, Councilman Welvon.”

  The android scurried away.

  “Sir, we are here.”

  The raspy voice of the guard startled Welvon.

  He shook his head and proceeded through the chamber doors. The council meeting was already in session and Welvon took his seat beside Councilman Hedra, an arachnid-like being from the planet Arachis.

  Damon called upon him with an obvious look of annoyance. “I stand before this assemblage to voice my objection to the assault on Baldor’s moon and to document an act of vengeance that is being carried out upon the Baldorian government. This mission will only accomplish the needless slaughter of some of our military’s elite forces. My objection may not change what has already been decided, but I hope my plea will prevent this sort of injustice from happening again.”

  “Perhaps you have spoken the truth,” began Damon, not allowing Welvon to have the last word. “I can say without hesitation that Xzin’s attack on the free people of Nemodtia was an act of aggression to a democratic nation, and that will not be tolerated by this council.”

  “That may very well be, but without proof, how can we be certain?” replied Welvon, his tone insolent, like a wrongful child speaking to his father.

  “The Nemodtian ambassador has told us what has transpired. What more proof do we need?” Damon’s words cut through Welvon’s defiance; and when Erinana placed her hands upon the podium, Welvon saw some of his own power diminish.

  “This mission is foolhardy. I want my objection to be noted.”

  “Noted, but please do not interrupt the ambassador when she is speaking.” Damon sat back as Erinana’s words echoed through the amphitheater.

  “My fellow free people, I stand before you today to profess the evils that Xzin’s forces have visited upon the peaceful people of Nemodtia. Xzin’s bombers and raiders have repeatedly struck us down. As well, a scientific team on the asteroid Tersden III was slaughtered. I stand here in desperation, pleading before you, the council, to stop the madness of Xzin.”

  The council sat in silence as they pondered the words of the ambassador from Nemodtia. Welvon’s face contorted into a grin of pure, unabated pleasure.

  * * * * *

  Night descended upon Gajying. The streets were paved in purple, reflective steel, trailing off into the surrounding canyons before coming to an intersection with Xzin’s palace.

  Two figures crept quickly in the moonlight, picking their way through the trees. Each was garbed in dark colors, camouflage. They passed within meters of each other and crossed to opposite sides of the road, making their way to the cliff face below Xzin’s castle. Their eyes were clouded in the darkness, a mixture of gray and black. Nemodtians had evolved an ability to change their features to blend with the surroundings, making them ideal for a covert mission.

  “This is extraction point. Come in, Darkune One, this is extraction point.” The voice was low, merely a whisper in the darkness. The dark figure pressed one of his three-fingered appendages to its head, trying to clear up the transmission.

  “Extraction point, this is Darkune One. All systems are go. Repeat. All systems are go.”

  “Understood. Extraction point out.”

  Silence returned to the night, and the figure pointed his arm upward, facing the top of the cliff. A sharp, piercing sound filled the night. A dark line shot up from his hand toward the apex of the incline. The figure pulled down hard, testing the line for integrity before offering the line to another who had just arrived.

  “You go first, Yurena,” the figure mumbled through the mask. Yurena obviously understood, grabbing the line and leaping onto the wall. The other started up when Yurena disappeared from sight. The line shook violently and the figure called upward, “Yurena, is it clear?”

  He waited for a response and then continued to climb, not knowing what lay above. With a ripping hiss, the line snapped, and the figure reached for the wall with his right arm. With no real outcropping, the figure freefell against the wall, trying to gain some footing as dust clouds erupted from his trail.

  Finally his hands dug into the surface, stopping his descent. He reached with long arms and ascended the wall hand over hand. When he reached the top, he looked back down to the certain death that he had averted. Yurena stood in the light of the mansion, unmoving, staring straight ahead.

  “Yurena, are you alright?”

  No answer.

  “Yurena, give me a signal. What is the matter?”

  There was still no answer.

  He moved forward cautiously and grabbed Yurena’s arm. Her skin was cool. Knowing full well what it meant, the man moved, but the blasts came just as quick, ricocheting off rocks and trees that were placed along the balcony of the fortress. He rolled to a stop near the building’s rear entrance and crouched low.

  He heard footsteps approaching.

  The sounds halted and then started again, distant as they turned back upon their own trail. The assassin took advantage of the moment and leapt onto the balcony. The doors were beautiful stained glass, but he crashed through them.

  They shattered.

  The lavish room flickered in the glow of the fireworks outside. He moved along the wall, not wanting to attract any undue attention. He heard a woman moaning. He opened the door, looking for the source of the noise.

  He only found another corridor.

  Setting out, he looked for Xzin’s chambers. Negotiating numerous artifacts, he finally came to the double doors that marked Xzin’s private rooms. The Xeon crest was blazed across them. He pushed against the doors, using the accompanying shadow as cover as he crept
slowly around the doorframe and surveyed the room from his crouched stature.

  There was a large canopy bed at the center of the room, each corner held by an enormous pedestal. A figure writhed to and fro, hair whipping against her body. He moved silently, using the moonlight to decipher the image. It was a woman, moving smoothly and sensually in rhythm with a lover, her bare chest was traced by the moonlight.

  He paused, his breath caught in his throat.

  He drew his long staff; a blade fastened to the end, and crept toward the bed. The woman screamed when she saw him and pulled the covers around herself, exposing Xzin’s face, contorted in anger. He rose to a seated position and extended his arm.

  A burst of energy flew from the staff, but Xzin’s outstretched hand halted its progress. Xzin’s hands wavered, as if holding the energy in place, then cast the energy aside with the flick of his hand.

  “You have come all this way to destroy me?” Xzin stood, dumping the woman unceremoniously on the bed. His eyes glowed like a predator. “Don’t stop now. You do not have much time left.”

  “You have persecuted my people and subjugated free nations,” the man growled. He leapt forward, striking in frenzy. “Your terror ends tonight.”

  Xzin moved flawlessly, caught the man’s leg mid-strike, and lifted him off the ground.

  “It ends for you.”

  Xzin’s words were never even heard as he brought his leg across in a horizontal motion and struck the man at the base of his spine, crushing him instantly. He turned to the woman on the bed.

  “Get dressed and dispose of this trash.”

  The woman rose quickly, wrapping herself in a robe. She dragged the dead, would-be-assassin out of the room. Xzin stalked to the balcony window and focused his mind toward the stars.

  * * * * *

  The door to Supremator Nama’s room, like everything else in the building, was militaristic and modern. The metallic frame blended into the hallway walls. The door slid open with a hiss as the trio arrived.

  Jeffery Nama was the original Spacehawk. He started the organization when he was discharged from the normal defense squadron for unsatisfactory conduct.

  Nama had killed a general on the opposing side who had already surrendered: General Hira Xzin, the ruthless leader of the Baldorian Assault Teams who, after the merciless slaughter of an entire village, decided to surrender when he found himself outnumbered. The women and children were hung from trees and burnt until their flesh crisped, and the way in which the women were violated was so heinous that even the most seasoned soldier of war and brutality could not stomach the sight.

  Nama told everyone that he shot Xzin and burned the body, but in truth, he hung Hira Xzin from a tree and watched the life drip out of him slowly. He left the body swinging in the darkness of the night, never revealing the truth of his cruelty.

  Hira’s body had disappeared.

  Though Nama himself watched the man die, a part of him believed that the warlord was one and the same as Hira Xzin who had, so many years ago, dismembered his life and mind.

  The years made his fears impossible.

  Cybernetic implants and other computer enhanced features kept Nama, himself, alive. But for Xzin to have survived he would have been graced with unnaturally long life. Besides, Nama watched the man die. There was no way he could have survived.

  “Alpha Zero, please come in,” called Nama casually as he stood behind his desk staring out upon the vast, wild desert. The trio took seats in front of the desk and remained silent. “I have asked you to come here because I need to tell you something before you leave for the Baldor moon. The success of the State depends upon the completion of this mission. Should this mission fail, all is lost. Xzin wins.”

  “Why does so much hang in the balance?” questioned Mela, her words coming out slowly.

  “He would be able to declare war if we directly assaulted his home world.”

  “If that is the case, why only the three of us? Perhaps a larger strike force should be assembled.” Rider rose from his chair and paced.

  “That would seem to be the most strategic point of action, but it is not the wish of the council.” Nama stopped for a moment, as if pondering some archaic question of humanity, wishing for the ability to predict the consequences of today’s actions. “I have utmost faith that we will complete this mission and set the stage for the elimination of Xzin. I just wanted to tell you that I hope for the best.”

  The members of Alpha Squadron sat in silence. They had no words for this age-old warrior who had spent his life in battle. Rider’s eyes shifted from the chrome floor to the eyes of his comrades, hoping they possessed some insight as to what to say to the warrior who stood before them.

  “Understood, and we shall do our best to not disappoint,” replied Wei. Nama bowed his head and returned to the window overlooking the desert. He gripped his hands behind his back, never returning his gaze to the soldiers who would decide the fate of so many.

  “Fear not death for mortality is the definition. Fear life for your pain is the most prominent here. The immortal one feels the most pain of all, to never end the suffering and to live with the mistakes of all eternity, to be the Failure.”

  -Teachings of the Guider of Prima Terra

  The Baldorian point ship hung in space behind the shadow of Baldor’s desolate moon obstructing all that lay beneath and beyond. Roseblade was a colossal ship. It extended well over six kilometers, a monstrosity that could easily defeat the bulk of the State’s navy.

  The hull shone a deep purple and carried the insignia of Xzin, a ward against the power of rival nations. The vessel acted as a focal point for a fleet of more than one hundred ships. Together they possessed a power greater than the combined forces of the State’s navy.

  The inside of the ship resembled a mighty citadel. Each room was carved in brilliant magnificence. The helm held more than ten thousand personnel, and it took that many to man this flying battle city.

  Admiral Diana Reckson was in charge, and she deserved the position more than any other accomplished voyager in the Baldorian navy. A former member of the State’s navy, Reckson could, for the most part, accurately predict the outcome of any battle. She retired from the State’s navy after achieving the rank of captain. An unfortunate accident took the lives of her mother and father.

  The cool blue oceans of Fasen Major seemed so strange when compared to the lush green exterior of its sister world, Fasen Minor. Captain Reckson had, for many years, wanted to return to the land she came from and remain there until her final days. But on this day, a shadow fell across the skies – a monster bred of darkness and steel that floated amongst the stars. The flagship Marauder was an impressive feat of craftsmanship, a grand vessel, the premier ship of the burgeoning power of the State. At least, up until the day it cast darkness over Fasen Major.

  Reckson had been far away at a meeting on Verdule, deep within the amphitheater of Garefe. The news came later, the demise and incineration of the planet that had held all her dreams and memories. Master Admiral Michael Gray was a decorated soldier from before the establishment of the UFPS charter, which united the universe into a hopeful cohesive unit.

  On this day, however, he had fallen far from the steady path and convinced the crew of the flagship to open fire upon the lands of Fasen Major; claiming that hostiles had entered the atmosphere and gained control of the reactor core there and were threatening to detonate it, causing a cataclysmic chain reaction that would set the very fabric of space off balance.

  After later scrutiny it was discerned that there was no such threat, and the transmissions immediately following the decimation of the planet showed a haggard and maniacal man who was hanging on by mere threads. The UFPS found him to be guilty on multiple charges of murder.

  Reckson pleaded to the judgment committee to execute Gray, yet they felt it unnecessary to give the aged soldier the death sentence. Master Admiral Gray died several years later on a minimum-security prison world and with him went R
eckson’s joy, her path forever diverted from the State.

  Reckson stood on the bridge and looked through the view port. The empty space was much like her life, and through this solitude she had hardened her anger into a cold determination to destroy all that was the State. She contemplated the coming assault upon the moon, and a smile crept across her face. The pathetic State, and all the superior moral attitudes they pervaded, would be defeated.

  Better judgment kept her from showing emotion around her subordinates. She sometimes missed the ability to actually feel for others, but those days had been swept away and with them, her ability to care. The only things that held any meaning were her ship and the protection of the Baldorian systems. A helmsman informed her that they were receiving a message.

  “Patch it through,” she replied dryly.

  “Yes, ma’am,” replied the helmsman, without looking up from his station. The screen erupted in static, and then an image began to form: the face of Lord Xzin.

  “Admiral Reckson, I assume that everything is going according to plan?” boomed Xzin, his voice echoing throughout the bridge.

  “Yes, my lord. At 1330 hours we will set coordinates past the moon to simulate a normal flight pattern and make our arrival look like an accident. We are then to destroy the lead ships and allow the defensive ships to escape. Is that correct, sir?” replied Reckson, unwaveringly.

  What Xzin admired most, besides her obvious beauty, was that she could not be frightened. She was an unusual being like himself, denied the pleasure of fear.

  “Yes, as usual I can count on you to follow through without flaw or hesitation. I commend you on your leadership and courage. Nonetheless, you will answer to me if you fail,” replied Xzin with a noticeable edge.