by C. C. Ekeke
Now I’m finished. Spun about by strength far beyond his own, Habraum turned to face death.
He gasped.
A foot hooded being nearly eight feet tall stood before him, draped in robes of midnight black, coated in fur like white snow. And its face…resembled an oversized guinea pig.
Habraum could barely digest this new shock as he struggled to free himself. Yet this guinea pig creature’s paw was a vise on his shoulder, with a drawn expression beneath the hood and snowy coat.
“You don’t belong here, Habraum,” its voice was a rumbling thunderclap.
When the furry stranger hauled Habraum off his feet, he was powerless to resist. Suddenly that unbearable, ripping sensation from the singularity returned, pulling Habraum away from this battle that had taken so much.
“Nooooo!” he cried, fighting to reach his teammates and his younger self. But the bloody skirmish and Beridaas’s bleeding skies overhead spiraled away before Habraum’s eyes.
Cortes… She could be trapped on a savage world in the past and Habraum couldn’t save her.
“I have to save them! I have to save her!” But the Cerc’s shouts were devoured by the void, right before every molecule was again pulled apart then slammed back together.
Once again, sight, sound, taste, touch, and smell were bludgeoned away by spiraling nothingness.
Chapter 1
Chaos reigned on Faroor. Most Union citizens who studied the 3D hologlobe of the small and unassuming Union memberworld found it underwhelming with effusive mountains.
Currently, Faroor’s hologlobe looked anything but underwhelming. The memberworld was alight with energy spikes at too many locations to count. Skyquakes and lightning storms roiled everywhere, causing widespread destruction. Millions were reported dead. Then there were the strange singularities opening in various locations—which the Galactic Union had taken painstaking efforts to hide. What came out of those singularities—no one knew at the moment.
Countless non-residents were fleeing Faroor in droves—if they could escape the lighting storms. The majority watching on news streams were justifiably terrified.
Tomoriq Fel watched the hologlobe from the safety of Terra Sollus. He looked every bit the virtual world network magnate, high-collared ivory jacket and dark pants fitting his sinewy build like a glove. Those kinky black curls remained neatly cropped and oiled.
His Faroor display included smaller screens showcasing the memberworld’s continuous devastation, the best handpicked from the feeds of his trillions of UNIFY subscribers. Fel smiled, dark eyes alight with possibilities.
To him, only small-minded beings viewed chaos as negative.
Chaos exposed one’s true self after their trusted institutions crumbled.
Chaos was a weapon to distract and destroy one’s foes.
Chaos offered a chance to rise higher. How else could Tomoriq Fel, a stranger in a strange land, have built an empire off the v-world engine UNIFY, attaining unfathomable reach and riches?
And in this new game he played, Tomoriq found truth in the chaos.
“Faroor’s destabilization was the original game. But never for you, right, Thaomé?” Tomoriq asked his rival on the transparent hologlobe’s opposing side. “That,” he pointed at Faroor’s moon Qos, “is your true prey.”
Like Faroor, its natural satellite, Qos, usually appeared unimpressively rocky. Now the moon burned bright as a star, energy readings impossibly high.
The female Korvenite stared at the globe before them. Her ivory lips formed a tight, disdainful line. “Well done, Tomoriq. And here I thought all humans were as slow as reported.”
Thaomé resembled no Korvenite Fel usually encountered, her purple complexion and snow-white hair an inversion of normal Korvenite coloring. Petite and slender, despite her womanly curves, she dressed in the all-black combo of a provocatively deep V-neck with long sleeves and an oily flowing skirt that pooled around her feet. Her flowing locks, in crimped style, were up in a high ponytail spilling down her back.
“Clearly Qos isn’t just a moon. I look forward to uncovering its secrets.”
Thaomé looked up sharply. Her eyes, disturbing white irises on pitch-black sclera, locked with Fel’s. “Qos is mine,” she warned, her tone flat and ferocious.
The human nearly laughed at her threat. He’d destroyed larger threats than some arrogant albino Korvenite who’d forgotten her place. “Once, before I discovered your secret,” Fel replied smugly. “But with that former Faroor pawn sentenced to death, it won’t be so easy now.”
Thaomé bristled. Losing her contact, Faroor’s Minister of Defense, still stung. “Think your pawns will do better?” she threw back.
“Than yours?” Tomoriq sneered. “Clearly.”
“One setback doesn’t equal victory, human.” The Korvenite’s calm was a brittle veneer. She knew she was losing. “This game is not over.” Her white irises momentarily contracted to pinprick size before returning to normal.
Fel shrugged. “Or you could concede the game now instead of embarrassing yourself further.” Fel’s smirk grew into an obnoxious smile. “I might even offer you half the spoils of Faroor’s financial collapse as consolation.”
Thaomé had heard enough. With a look of smoldering hate, she whirled around and marched away from Faroor’s hologlobe. “See yourself out,” she snarled over her shoulder, “before I kick you out.” She vanished into the darkness surrounding the holoprojection.
Fel laughed raucously, cutting the connection. He opened his eyes with a smile, wearing the same clothes as his virtual avatar projection. The man sat in a lounge chair on the balcony of his floating island estate off the coast of Terra Sollus’s San Andreas city-state.
Fel stood up, mind churning. “Qos,” he spoke the moon’s name. From the readings his agents had taken, the energy was an exotic concoction none of them had seen before.
“I have,” he remembered fondly, “in another life.” His mind drifted back fleetingly while scanning the oceans beyond his island domain. Endless deep blue stretched farther than the eyes could see, sparkling and rippling under Terra Sollus’s mid-morning sun.
Tomoriq returned his focus to Faroor’s moon. If Qos truly was the power source disrupting Faroor, then Fel could achieve his long-term goals sooner than expected.
I could change this galaxy for the better. A heady thrill made his dark brown complexion flush. He leaned against the railing of his balcony to steady himself.
Only one threat worried him. Not Thaomé or the paltry society they belonged to. Not even the group’s benefactor.
“Star Brigade.” Hatred washed over him. His mind filled with tangled memories of how many ways their past deeds had nearly ruined his life.
After secretly using the Brigade to cure Maorridius Magnus and derail Thaomé’s plans, Tomoriq assumed their part in the game would recede. He planned to deal with them after taking measure of the Brigade’s current manifestation. The unit’s destructive encounter with Ghuj’aega, however, had forced Fel to course correct.
“Thankfully I thrive on chaos,” he said as he smiled. Before dealing with Star Brigade, Tomoriq needed to secure his standing in the game. “Computer.” He turned from the oceans. “Get Senator Praece of Faroor. We have matters of life and death to discuss.”
Chapter 2
Throughout every communication orifice of the Magnasterium, the screaming was heard—the anguished screams of former Defense Minister Haemekk as he suffered through a creative spectrum of torture.
This widecast was both announcement and warning. An announcement of Maorridius Magnus’s return…and a warning to those responsible for his infirmity of their fate once they were found.
And they would all be found.
After an orv of Haemekk’s animalistic wails, a majority of the Magnasterium’s servants, aides, employees, and guests forced themselves to ignore the horror, silently grimacing or pausing to collect themselves. Never did they openly discuss Haemekk’s predicament. That would be i
ll-mannered.
Those in the Magnasterium who despised Haemekk took pleasure in his public suffering. And despite the improperness, they expressed this through secret smirks or chuckles. A small few, guilty co-conspirators had already traveled far off-world from Faroor.
Someone without that luxury was Gaorr, son of Maorridius Magnus.
He walked slowly down a long hallway towards the room where his father resided. The former Defense Minister’s screams flooded the corridor louder than anywhere else in Magnasterium.
Less than three orvs ago, the young son of Maorridius Magnus had been held hostage by a Ghebrekh insurgent while dozens of his fellow Ttaunz were blown to bits. Now, Gaorr would see his father, awake for the first time in almost a year. The same father whose throne he’d tried to steal with Haemekk’s help.
Numbness seeped through Gaorr’s pelt-covered body. Placing one foot in front of the other seemed to happen on autopilot. Two Ttaunz guards flanked either side in case he tried to flee.
Haemekk’s screams grew louder…more agonized. Gaorr shuddered. After what felt like an eternity, Gaorr reached the end of the hallway. His heart thudded loudly as he placed a hand on the entry access pad. The ingress opened, and bright light flooded his vision. Once his eyes adjusted, he beheld a large, opulent room, but Gaorr only noticed its occupants.
His mother, Lady Naejjo daughter of Eurella, stood in front of a number of floating holoscreens with slender arms folded. Every screen showcased every angle of Haemekk screaming—and the gruesome tactics causing his agony. However, his screams were muted within this room. Gaorr did his best to continue ignoring the visuals and focus on his parents.
Lady Naejjo, for the first time in months, did not resemble the victim of a repeated hovertram collision. Instead, Gaorr’s mother had donned a flowing red gown and had finally cut her silvery mane to a flatteringly short and spiky length. The lady’s light blue pelt glistened with renewed verve, but she needed little upkeep to radiate. Her features were hawklike and fixated, accentuating her arresting beauty. She took one glance at Gaorr and frowned.
That unsettled Gaorr. Naejjo’s eyes flitted to her son’s father, Maorridius Magnus. Gaorr found the resolve to avoid hyperventilation as he turned to Faroor’s ruler. The old Ttaunz still appeared pallid and frail, walking with the assist of a cane. But the Magnus looked much healthier than when Gaorr last saw him floating in that mediglobe contraption.
The door behind Gaorr hissed shut, startling him. He was alone with his parents, and utterly terrified. Haemekk had already dug his own grave, and Gaorr had no interest in sharing it with him.
“Father…you’re awake!” He moved swiftly to greet the Magnus of Faroor. He wore a perfectly arranged mask mixed with surprise, reverence, and joy. “I was so worried you might not wake—”
“Why, then,” Maorridius interrupted, “have you rarely visited when your mother asked, Son?” His voice still bore that resounding boom which made Gaorr tremble.
Gaorr stopped in mid-step. “W-What?” he stammered. “Father, I was helping run Faroor in your absence.”
“Because Haemekk told you to?” the Magnus probed, pacing back and forth before the holoscreens. “Or because you didn’t have the stomach to see what he had done to me?”
A lance of terror impaled through Gaorr. Lie. “Father, I had no knowledge of Haemekk’s true intentions.”
Maorridius continued as if his son hadn’t uttered a word. “No matter our disagreements over his absurd choice to help the Farooqua, Taorr never forsook me. He continued looking to cure my ailment.” The Magnus kept his gaze on the holoscreens displaying Haemekk’s torture, now featuring electrocution—with gruesome results.
Gaorr’s mind was a mess. He could unearth no defense. Quite the mistake. The old bastard still wouldn’t meet his gaze. The shame welling up inside Gaorr paled beside the fear of his father’s looming wrath.
The Magnus continued calmly. “The moment Haemekk offered you a chance to replace me, even after his betrayal, you seized the chance. Didn’t you?”
“Fa-Father.” Gaorr waved his hands up pleadingly. Deflect. “Haemekk made me do it. Installing me as Maorridius Magnus was all his idea. Who knows what he would have done to me and Taorr if I refused?” This was partially true. Haemekk had approached him with usurping the Magnal Throne, choosing Gaorr over Taorr.
Maorridius scratched his chin, absorbing this statement. Gaorr blew out a relieved sigh, knowing he would escape unscathed.
CRACK!
Gaorr didn’t even see his father move until the cane whipped across his face, knocking him on his behind.
Suddenly Maorridius was in his face, roiling fury he’d never display in public. Gaorr cowered like a child before his father’s anger.
“You actually assumed you could replace me as Magnus? ME?!” he snarled, barely in control. “Haemekk only chose you because of how easily you could be puppeteered!”
Maorridius aimed a kick at Gaorr’s gut, scoring painfully true. Gaorr groaned and curled into fetal position.
Maorridius kept kicking. And kicking. And kicking. Gaorr curled up tighter against the brutal barrage and looked to his mother pleadingly.
Lady Naejjo stood nearby, eyes closed to him. That stung worse than his father’s assault.
Maorridius finally stopped, out of breath. Lady Naejjo hurried to her still-recovering husband’s side. As expected, the Magnus waved her off, showing no weakness even amid family. He casually adjusted his disheveled robes and hair.
“Weak,” the Magnus declared coldly. “You have ALWAYS been weak! Ruled by your baser instincts…a canine in perpetual heat. The drugs, the endless sex, betraying your own family. Never useful…period.” Maorridius spat his vitriol as if detailing the deficiencies in a flawed product instead of his own son.
Gaorr felt the heat from the tears rolling down his face.
Maorridius studied his son’s shame and a ripple of remorse touched his features. He spoke again in a gravelly croak, as if close to tears himself. “Maybe I’m to blame. I should have given you more attention in your formative years.”
The moment of empathy vanished. Maorridius Magnus’s face hardened, his voice regaining a business-like contempt. “You are an adult now…and your choices have consequences.”
Gaorr reached for his father, begging for forgiveness. The results were blubbering incoherency, even in his own ears.
The Magnus silenced him with a swift hand chop. “I want to show you something.” He gestured at one massive holoscreen and barked a command.
The screen switched from Haemekk’s torture to Haemekk in shackles.
Gaorr recoiled. His former mentor, once powerful and imposing, was a shell of his former self— bruised, bloodied, unclothed, and shackled in rudimentary chains from chest to ankle. Ashes of defiance still burned behind his fierce eyes. But the fight appeared beaten out of the former Defense Minister. Even worse, his long red mane had been shaved off, the ultimate mark of humiliation and criminality for Ttaunz males. The settings looked dark, but he was clearly no longer in the prison hosting his torture.
Gaorr’s father glared at Haemekk stonily, no shred of their old affection remaining. “This,” the Magnus gestured at the screen, “is how I handle traitors.”
A door slid open behind Haemekk, flooding his whereabouts with light. A soldier’s boot from off-screen slammed into Haemekk’s chest. With a surprised shout, the Defense Minister went flying out into open blue sky.
Gaorr covered his shrieking mouth. The holovid camera followed Haemekk’s descent until he passed through white billowing clouds. The view of Haemekk’s plummet hung steady as he shrank into a tiny dot, and then nothing.
Gaorr could barely breathe. His heart pounded so thunderously that his father must have heard. Maorridius Magnus’s lesson registered loud and clear. But would Gaorr survive long enough to learn it? A glance at his mother revealed a regal and unflinching posture, her eyes shut to Haemekk’s final moments.
Unsurprising, Gao
rr realized. Lady Naejjo was an expert at staying deaf and mute to her husband’s cruelty.
The leader of the Ttaunz stepped forward, dominating his son’s vision. “This footage will reach all who serve at my pleasure. Governors, planetary senators, anyone under the false impression that our House has grown weak under your stewardship.”
The Magnus leaned forward until he and his son were almost nose to nose. His eyes were like Taorr’s, except cold and pitiless. “If you weren’t my son, you’d have been falling right alongside Haemekk.” He gestured at the holoscreens. “We’ll devise your punishment later. Now I will deal with the son of mine that actually matters.”
So low was Gaorr in his father’s eyes that his own penance was trumped by the mention of Taorr. He sobbed openly now.
Maorridius pressed a finger on one of the many touchscreens exhibiting Haemekk’s fall. A Ttaunz not much older than Gaorr appeared, familiar even through Gaorr’s tear-blurred eyes.
“Defense Minister Jaoffa,” Maorridius barked. “What is the news on finding my son?”
Haemekk’s assistant, the new Defense Minister? Gaorr gaped. His father had traded in an attack canine for a puppy.
“I was about to contact you, sire,” Jaoffa responded evenly. “Taorr has been found.”
Maorridius’s face immediately contorted with an emotion Gaorr rarely saw directed his way: joy. Lady Naejjo let out an elated cry. And just like every moment their parents had favored Taorr over him, Gaorr hated his elder brother with all his heart.
“Excellent.” The Magnus regained his stolid expression. “Deliver him directly to the Magnasterium.”
Jaoffa’s youthful face fell. “Uh, the heir is taking a detour over Farooqua Quud lands.”
The joy fled from the Magnus’s face. Both Lady Naejjo and Gaorr instinctively cringed.
The Magnus’s voice didn’t raise. But his anger was evident and beyond frightening. “By whose authority?”
Chapter 3
