The Zohr stormed with heavy feet out of the remains of the Nangus. Mutus, Willow and Calyx followed at the tail of his flailing cape. A purebred colonel welcomed the Maven at the bottom of the ramp. "All preparations have been made, my Zohr, we are ready for mass expansion," the colonel confirmed, bowing at his leader's approach.
"When we have dealt with the pests outside, then we will be ready," the Zohr said, brushing the colonel aside and walking straight on.
Two fantoms stepped in behind Calyx and whipped an energy chain around the boy's waist and hands. He didn't struggle, he didn't question, he just watched the long white hair of the Zohr wisping down the back of his cape as he walked away. Calyx already knew that he couldn't trust the Zohr, and he knew that the Zohr couldn't trust him. Whatever would happen to him, he didn't really care anymore, he had still to find his rightful place in the world, and even though he knew the answer would never have been found standing beside the Zohr, at least he could have found companionship in Willow. He was now a prisoner, and he would watch while the Zohr went from world to world using a power that belonged in his own hands and his own mind, using it to destroy and plunder innocent civilisations. He lowered his head. What had he let his life become?
The colonel hurried along beside his master. "All gun stations are manned. The best shadow pilots are dispatched. They are finished my Zohr."
"That’s the plan, colonel!" the Zohr said, leaving the deck through a dark sliding door.
Chapter XXV
Fantoms
Every cluster of blue diminishing dots that disappeared from the radar felt like a knife twisting in the stomachs of Qotu and Uly. Jonas struggled to comprehend the emotions of the inanimate beeps and reports of numbers being shouted out across the command deck on how many fighters were being destroyed in such quick succession by the increasing number of red dots. Qotu moved around the floating radar display keeping his troubled eyes locked on the depletion of his people. The look he shot to Uly questioned if he was still happy with his latest decision to send all of his men to their deaths. A transmission light flashed on. Officer Khit looked across at Qotu in a silent request to answer.
"Go ahead," said Qotu.
Menace appeared on screen, her voice projected across the command deck, "We’ve lost Cortex. Thousands are dying. We can’t hold out much longer. You must do something!" The desperation in her voice sent blood rushing through Jonas's head.
Qotu reacted with passion, walking over and close up to the king. "It is over Uly!" he said, already defeated.
"Not yet it's not!" said Jonas, taking steps backwards, keeping his eyes locked on Menace. He turned and ran, shouting as he left. "Get back to Aquilla, Father. Somewhere safe."
Uly moved to chase after his son, "Jonas, no!" he shouted.
Qotu grabbed the king by his arm. "Let him go Uly!" The king glanced at Qotu's grip around his arm. "Let him go!" Qotu finished, with a deep stare into the kings eyes.
Jonas ran onto loading deck fifty-nine and straight past the single helmet with his name on it. He jumped into a waiting glass lift, grabbing hold of a bar to steady his balance as the lift shifted up to the only ship left on the deck. Jonas slid into the cockpit, pulling the belt straps over his shoulders, securing himself to his seat. His heart felt like it was racing faster than the rapid blinking of a radvid, the sandstorm hunter. He activated the manual fighter release, and with a puff of steam and the noise of a sucking vacuum seal, he drifted out into space. The engine buzzed through his body, his heart eased into the reality of joining his men, and he thrust across space into the battle that raged in his sights.
Seeing fire surge through the dark matter as he approached, he began to reconsider his hasty decision. Amongst the fighter fire and wicked bolts of Mercron's guns, Jonas saw a trio of koble fighters locked in a dance of ups and downs, following each other, covering for each other and obliterating the attacking shadow-walkers. Jonas flew in beside them.
"Can anyone tell me why I thought this was a good idea?" Jonas said into his radio, waving a hand up to his protectors through the side window.
"Spider?" blurted Menace's shocked voice into his cockpit.
"You shouldn’t be out here," Spectrum said, as Jonas spiralled through a barrage of shadow cannons and shot two down coming out of a spin.
"But I’m sure as heck glad you are!" Spectrum beamed, fighting off some shadows of his own.
"What’s the plan?" Jonas asked, arriving with no immediate plan of his own.
"Just try not to die!" Spectrum said.
Appearing from nowhere, Jonas scraped past the black belly of a twisting shadow-walker, cannon fire crossed his kobles nose, and shot too close to his wings. "Very reassuring!" he joked, with a look that said he was already lucky to still be alive.
Mangled wings and loose burning fuselage's hurtled through a space filled with mayhem. The pilots who lasted long enough to position themselves within range of Mercron for a clear shot uselessly fired missiles and lasers into the untarnished silver of Mercron's solid carbotanium shell. The rabid guns of Mercron relentlessly tore through fighter after fighter and the advanced genetics in the dydrids cognition meant that when they shot, they killed. Their minds were bent on calculating the velocity and predicted movements of a fighter in the time it took for them to pull a trigger. What chance did the waning fleet of koble fighters have when every pilot of the dydrid army was as skilled as the best pilot amongst the Cytherean Guard. From where Qotu and Uly sat watching their men fall from the radar and from where Jonas and every allied pilot fought, this war was coming to an end.
Jonas flew through the path of an exploding koble. His ship rumbled, sliding out to the side as he wrestled with the flight sticks to bring his fighter back into control. An explosion above his windshield thrust his ship backwards. The brightness of the flame sunk deep into his eyes, taking his sight. A loud bang came from below him. He couldn't see what he'd hit, his orientation was lost. He spun. Shapes and lights flashed into his damaged eyes as his spin took him out of control.
Spectrum's voice called out, "We’re losing too many, we can’t sustain this attack!"
Menace threw her panicked voice into his ears, "I can’t hold them off. They just keep coming!"
Sweat dripped down Jonas's face; he knew he'd be dead any second. His hands shook out of control, pulling left and right, pushing up and down on the control sticks. This was his end. Any moment he would feel the spirits collecting his soul, watching the end of this world unfold from the next. Perhaps his mother would be there to take him in her arms; death did not seem so final with such a thought. Images of his life flooded his mind; the kind wrinkled face of Lina flashed on top of the flame that burned in his eyes. He saw his old cold stone room on Rilk, a place he once called home to which he would never return; the faces of Hok and Ell spun through his mind; the dark nights on Kroyto; Twain's heroic baby face as he pulled a blaster on him, shooting over his head on the day his life had no return to normality; and Lynk, the temperless droid who lost his head with the mean flick of a sanga; the birthmarked face of Calyx, standing upon the balcony at Mercron—even in this state Jonas felt the mutual anger that had formed between them; his father etched on top of the brightness, his long flowing hair dressed his thoughtful face, blowing in the warm winds of Enterra; and Willow, removing her hood under the beauty of Valo's light, capturing his eyes forever.
"Jonas! Jonas, listen to me!" The voice was Willow's. "Calm your mind," she called out to him.
The images inside his mind vanished back to the flashes of burning light that stunted his sight. Jonas took a breath through his nostrils deep into his lungs as if letting his mind feed from the oxygen and soothe every sense in his body. The rosiness of his blood-filled face began to drain back to its normal paler complexion. His sight was restoring to a sharper focus, and the shape of his hands holding onto the ship's control sticks blinked back into place. Jonas saw no battle around him as his eyes began to work again. There were no gun blasts, no
explosions.
"Willow—this is the end, it’s all over!" he expressed out loud with utter hopelessness.
She heard his sorrow from where she stood in the throne room watching her grandfather who only had concern for the puffed fireballs of the koble fighters outside of his window. The risk of speaking to Jonas was great but she felt something cry out inside of her, something that had told her Jonas needed her. Willow fed her deepest spirit deeper still into Jonas's soul, "Turn your mind to the converted fantom soldiers. You are stronger than the Zohr. Only you can defeat him."
Jonas's sight lost the last of the flaring fragments caught in his eyes. Gazing around he could see that his fighter floated above the atmosphere of planet Aquilla. From this close in, the outer glare of the green globe had disappeared and the sights of the blue oceans of the world, the green of the land and the ruptured rocky mountain ranges below calmed his heart to a gentle pulse.
The words of the princess sank into his thoughts. "I have no formula, I cannot do it," he said, defeated.
"Then, you have failed and everything will die!" Willow told him.
Jonas strained his eyes. He rolled his fighter around, losing the soft glow of Aquillas luminance, seeing only the battle between blue and silver light violating the space above him. He closed his eyes and as Willow had said, he calmed his mind and searched for the pain-filled eyes of a dydrid fantom, the only one he knew.
"Sorc, speak to me. Where are you?" his silent voice called out through space.
He waited, there was no reply.
A flash of a view from Sorc's eyes was caught in Jonas's mind. The image was unclear. It came and went in an instant. "Sorc, your mind is your own. Free yourself. Look into my eyes."
Jonas's heart raced into orbit as a familiar voice spoke to his minds ear. "I see you, Prince Jonas. Help me. I do not want to fight for him anymore," a gruff voice said.
Their minds and eyes connected. Jonas saw from where Sorc stood inside of Mercron, looking out upon the fire and destruction. Koble fighters squirmed through the darkness and died in the light. And gripped within the dark-skinned hands of Sorc were the triggers of a three-barrelled tri-blaster. Sorc fired with unnatural instinct upon the helpless pilots attacking the city.
"You can be free. You do not have to fight for him. Fight for us. End your slavery," Jonas urged in all sincerity.
Sorc shot twice more, destroying a life with both blasts. One more triple bolt stung off into space and his fingers loosened from the triggers. Sorc stopped tracking the fighters with the sight of his blaster.
"I cannot do it alone," Sorc hesitated, stolen of all confidence and belief in himself as a person.
"You once knew your own mind. Take it back. I will speak to your friends. I will help you." Jonas promised.
"And I will join you." Sorc said.
Neither Jonas nor Sorc could see each other's faces, but somewhere inside them, their smiles were felt as much as if they were standing in front of one another. Jonas broke away from the connection, still far out from the battle and watching the massacre unfold above. He filled his lungs with calming breaths as he had done when the Zohr had sealed his fate in the darkness of that chromium tomb. He closed his eyes, and strained every muscle in his body to the point of rupturing his semi-metal veins. He struggled with his mind, dropped his head into his chest, wailing from deep in his throat, pushing all of his energy up into his mind. He fell silent, lifting his head with sparkling eyes of silver. Peace flowed inside of him, taking him to a place where his imagination ruled the world.
Jonas didn't think what to say, the words revealed themselves from the depths of his mind and transmitted out into space with the unquestionable thought that every converted fantom soldier would hear his calling. "Fantom soldiers, I am Jonas, protector of the Elementis. Your minds are free to do as they will. I relieve you from the command of your Zohr. Fight with us. Join us and re-take your lives. Gunners, destroy Mercron; infantry, take control of your true enemy; pilots, turn your fire and fight. From this day on we live in peace."
*
The Zohr was aware of the presence of a new mind, a Maven's mind. Jonas's words resounded through his metal skull. He watched from his throne as the fearsome exchange of plasma outside his window all but stopped. The boy had found the strength that Oreaus had strived to create for his own race. He had found the perfect mind that the Zohr craved to give each one of his children. Even he, the most powerful Maven to live, was absorbed by how effective Jonas's mind had become. A satisfaction fed into his tainted soul that he was the creator of such a mind. Without his dedication to create and rule one race, Jonas would never have been born. The Zohr only rued that where the ideals of power lived within his own being, the pitiful wart of goodness lived inside of Jonas's. He had to destroy the perfection he had created. If he could use the Elementis on the boy once again without giving him time to counter thought, he would be free to resume his rule.
The Zohr closed his seething eyes, calling on his deepest thoughts and sending them to his fantoms to fight against their own strengthening will. But all he heard were the fantoms voices that Jonas had heard so many times before, only now they overwhelmed him with thank-yous and the awakened calls of freed spirits.
Thousands of tri-blasters twisted backwards, aiming down at the unscathed body of Mercron. They fired in unison, riddling the exoskeleton with explosions of oxygen being released and ignited from beneath the hull. The Zohr's thoughts were shaken with the quaking of Mercron. He leapt from his throne, stepping closer to the window, watching a wall of shadows returning to attack, flying wing by wing beside the enemy as they swooped and sunk their fire deeper into the ruptured hull. Warning alarms raised havoc through the city corridors, which now filled with men of all organic creeds who fought for the freedom of all. A scaly-faced crewman drew a blaster. "We're taking this ship!" he threatened, pointing his weapon at the Zohr. Mutus blasted the crewman, who crumbled to the metal deck before he got a shot away at the former ruler of his mind. The throne room was sealed shut with heavy doors and the ship shuddered and echoed with blaster impacts.
The Zohr took his seat with a face full of enigmatic thought. "This boy is beginning to annoy me," he said to Mutus. "Kill every traitor on this ship. Their minds have been breached."
*
Menace and Spectrum flew amongst the floating wrecks of ships and calmed their engines, noticing that space had become all too peaceful.
"Spec, look! They’re shooting at themselves!" Menace radioed across.
Spectrum looked down to see the guns of Mercron firing upon themselves with enemy fighters drifting above the surface, ploughing fire into their own ship.
"Well I’ll be damned," Spectrum said, sliding up his visor for a better look.
Jonas flew in and between the two of them as they watched the space city taking a pounding. "We just signed up some new recruits!" Jonas said, with his voice teetering between joy and smugness.
Spectrum looked across to him. "You know what, Spider…" he said, shaking his head, "…I never doubted you for a second!" They smiled, sharing a wry moment of wit, something of a rarity for Spectrum.
*
Within the rushing veins of the clawed city the converted fantoms took on the battle of bringing down those whose minds were still under one rule. Snarling beasts with arms the size of a man pushed purebred soldiers in a hold against the wall, tearing at their bodies and crushing into their armour with heavy blows. Blaster bolts flew down the dark corridors lighting up images of the hatred and strength in the faces of those that had endured too many years of slavery. Every freed being was prepared to destroy the city and die in space with it in order to save the lives of all others who the Zohr wished to infect with his power.
Mutus held on to a spike at the back of the Zohr's throne as Mercron rocked and tumbled. The Zohr kept steady on his feet, almost knowing which way the ship would rock. He desired to have Jonas in front of him. He wanted to return the Elementis back into its rightf
ul place on his arm and destroy the boy. He eyed the shining white koble fighters with disgust, knowing that the wasted mind of Jonas was out there inside one of them.
A sharp tilt sent an approaching crewman stumbling down on his hands and knees in front of the Zohr's black boots. "Mercron is going down, my Zohr, power is at 30 percent and falling," he said.
The Zohr kept his gaze on the renegade shadows out of his window. "I will face this child one last time!" he said, with nothing but death in his eyes.
The ship fell through space, pulled back by the forces of Aquilla and propelled by what little power remained. None of the crew would dare express it but they knew that the undestroyable Mercron had been overcome.
A modest thought of pride touched the spirit within Jonas's body as he became all too aware that he was responsible for saving the lives floating away on the hundreds of pods evacuating from the burning space city. The thoughts of pride were followed by a sobering reality. It wasn't over, not yet. Amongst the evacuating pods came a new wave of shadows, piloted by the purebreds.
Jonas tapped in to speak with the Tylis. "Father, Mercron's coming down."
Uly's voice came back from Aquilla with a grave disdain of worry, "Jonas, are you ready for him?"
"I was born ready father!" Jonas said.
No more was said. Both father and son were well aware of the dangers that the final battle would bring. Even though Jonas was beginning to find and use the powers of his ancestry, the Zohr had hate and desire way beyond those that Jonas could muster.
Elementis 1: The Heir to the Stone Page 24
