Star Brigade: Ascendant (SB4)

by C. C. Ekeke

  “Can we get back to mind shields?” she gushed, pushing stray curly locks from her face as they walked. “How you hold your shields so easily? Lethe always said I stretch myself too much when trying to shield my whole mind.”

  He’s not wrong, Jhori answered, genuinely pleased by her interest. The Korvenite male’s ivory complexion was illuminated under the corridor lighting. The rubbery effect he’s teaching you is effective once you’ve mastered matching the strength across the complete surface of your telepathic shields. Remember me showing you how to sense ambient psychic energy floating around?”

  “Yea.” Tharydane nodded.

  You can absorb that energy to fortify your shields.

  Tharyn squealed, practically bouncing on her heels. “You have to show me!”

  Jhori’s smile stretched wide. Absolutely.

  The pair had taken a secret translifter only accessible through the Brigade senior staff level to reach the UComm commissary. Another safety precaution, naturally. Now, as they approached Hollusphere, Tharydane could already hear the babbling river of surface thoughts.

  We’ll practice better ways to tune out the noise, Jhori said at her side. And cherry-pick thoughts.

  That sentence made Tharydane turn fully to her new teacher. Do you mean—? she asked psychically, afraid to address this aloud.

  Jhori nodded indifferently. Why remain passive when someone targeting you remains hidden?

  Tharyn shivered, reminded again by the threat against her life. “Sam and Lethe will find them.”

  Jhori folded his arms decisively. And if they don’t?

  Tharyn disliked such disregard for invading others’ privacy, especially after the trouble she got in with Addison. “Lethe will never approve—”

  Lethe doesn’t have to know. Unless they find your pursuer first.

  The thought of being proactive with her own safety was appealing. And if Lethe tried reading her thoughts about the matter, the Korvenite could test out Jhori’s shielding techniques.

  “Okay,” she tentatively agreed as the pair resumed walking down the empty corridor.

  A translifter door abruptly hissed open to Tharyn’s left, startling the Korvenite out of her skin. Jhori quickly rounded her to block whatever might emerge. Nothing did.

  Tharyn telepathically sensed his confusion. “What is it?” She peeked over Jhori’s shoulder and gasped.

  Loroorol, her Ikarian friend, lay sprawled across the translifter floor. Tharyn cried out and immediately ran for him. Jhori grabbed her arm and yanked the teen back.

  “What are you doing?” she hissed in their native Korcei. “Loroorol could be hurt. Let me—”

  I will scan him, Jhori insisted. He knelt down beside the fallen Ikarian. The Korvenite’s gold irises vanished into his black sclera as he telepathically scanned the unconscious Ikarian.

  Tharydane watched him work, icy fear worming down her limbs. This had to be the work of the CoE mole, sending a message through Loroorol. The teen couldn’t bear another friend dying because of her. She reached out to telepathically contact Lethe about this latest development.

  What in Korvan’s name? Jhori began. This one’s mind has so much—AARRRGH! The kneeling Korvenite jerked up and screamed out loud.

  A telepathic trap? Tharyn staggered back as Jhori’s agony mushroomed outward. The first shockwave smashed into her brain like a full-speed hovercar. Suddenly, Tharyn lay prone and paralyzed. Every inch of her body trembled from Jhori’s telepathic agony.

  She heard Lethe in her mind, but his words were faraway gibberish.

  Through blurred vision, she saw Jhori on his back convulsing violently.

  Then the dark dragged Tharydane under, and she knew nothing.

  Chapter 34

  The bizarre light began fading, and Habraum’s vision adjusted to his new whereabouts. He whirled around, seeing nothing familiar.

  No Phaeton. No Solrao. No CT-1. No other Habraum. Just vast white emptiness as far as he could see.

  “Not this shit again,” the Cerc spat. Alone in unknown territory. Was he inside the Zenith Point? Did CT-1 survive? Habraum’s nerves were so taut, he felt only an overpowering urge to survive and locate CT-1. He rose and opened his mouth to call someone…anyone.

  “Habraum.” His own voice startled the daylights out of the Cerc. He turned and relaxed. Behind him, the other Habraum was on one knee. Faint smoke curled up from his travel coat and leathers. Habraum hurried to his side. “Y’ollrigh’, lad?”

  The other Cerc waved him off and pushed up to his feet. “That trip’s never fun, yea?”

  “Not remotely,” Habraum remarked dryly. “We in the Zenith Point?”

  “I think so.” The other crimsonborn looked around the white nonexistence enveloping them. “We have to find the Particulate.”

  “And my unit,” Habraum added, fear trickling into his heart. He turned to scan previously covered ground and froze. “Solved one mystery.”

  The other crimsonborn followed his gaze with identical hazel-gold eyes and gaped. “Oh.”

  Several yards away, a figure hovered high in the air. Hulking and hooded in midnight robes, its face resembled a rodent’s.

  “The Particulate,” both Habraums said at once. They looked at each other, exchanging smiles instead of confused stares. Finally, a modicum of hope.

  The duo sprinted toward the Particulate. After several strides, the white nothingness was washed away by colors and figures. Habraum slowed but kept moving. “What—”

  “Keep moving,” the other Habraum cautioned. “These are the Particulate’s memories.”

  The Cerc followed him toward the hovering Particulate. As they drew closer, that snow-white rodent face looked contorted by severe anguish.

  “Rogguts,” Habraum whispered, and moved faster, right as the shifting colors and figures took shape around him. By the tall, reddish urbrui stalks, he recognized Faroor’s grasslands. But the lofty stone structures, ivory marble with orange veins, weren’t familiar. A city-state stretched for miles filled with vehicles that didn’t hover or need beasts of burden. Older tech but modern enough.

  Khrome would love this, Habraum mused, spotting this abnormal settlement’s residents. Farooqua, not hunched in predatory stances wearing loincloths. These Farooqua stood upright, wore sleek robes, moved and interacted in sophisticated manners. Civilized, urbane Farooqua.

  “Move!” Habraum turned to see the other Cerc irritated and further ahead. “The memories are just distractions.”

  He’s right. Habraum quickened his pace to catch up. The landscape shifted again to a dozen or so finely dressed Farooqua inside a building. They stood face-to-face with several Particulates, all over seven feet at least and hooded in flowing robes of sparkly midnight. All had rodent-like faces, all covered in some variation of white fur. Habraum even spotted their Particulate with his snow-white fur.

  He shook his head and moved to catch up with the alternate Habraum. And the vision morphed again. Farooqua appeared again, manning structures that built space vessels and advanced-looking munitions, from even Habraum’s perspective. He already knew this tale. The Particulates had gifted them with advanced tech to accelerate their development.

  In the next scene, the Farooqua soared through space in their ships, dominant in their planetary system despite not being unified on Faroor.

  The Cerc eyed the Particulate in the present, hovering high and trembling. He winced at the tears rolling down the being’s face as the next visuals flooded in.

  War. Deep-red skies above Faroor exploded as Farooqua starships unloaded blistering beams at one another, without restraint or remorse. Three major factions fought. The grasslands were covered in bodies, but ground fighting continued with massive machines plowing into each other. Each side escalated their armory, building deadlier weapons to outdo the opposition. A flash passed over one Farooqua giving a fiery speech to a considerable swath of his brethren. Unlike most Farooqua, he had his pelt shaved, revealing blue skin and beady red ey
es.

  Habraum had never seen this Farooqua before, but the resemblance to Ghuj’aega was chilling.

  “Aut’ala,” he spoke the name aloud and kept moving as the scene shifted again.

  A space battle erupted around the Cerc. Titanic blocky battleships on both sides, stunning machines of war with swarms of tiny starfighters. Both sides unleashed thick superlasers. One colossal flagship, studded with spikes and weaponry, emanated a baleful green glow growing in intensity. Its weapon banks charged before discharging massive waves of power. The shockwave billowed out, slicing half the enemy fleet apart.

  The remaining opposition fled. A gaping tear in space remained in their wake, blue and throbbing like some fiery wound.

  Habraum ogled at the rupture, almost larger than a moon. “The exact size of Qos…”

  He kept walking as the visuals shifted again. The Particulates had returned, their mutual outrage palpable despite their restrained facial expressions.

  Aut’ala faced them shaking his fist, a gnat among giants. He remained defiant despite the Particulates’ superiority and disapproval. Habraum already knew what came next.

  The Particulates all made unanimous gestures. A decision to punish the Farooqua’s greed and violence.

  The next scene rushed by in flashes as Habraum jogged through them, caught up in these memories. Every Farooqua across Faroor crying out, brought to their knees. Another shift, and suddenly their movements appeared guileless and crude. The devolved Farooqua scrambled around their own world in confusion, staring without comprehension at the machinery they once built.

  Those weapons were soon reduced to ash by the Particulates. The skeleton of a moon-sized container was forming around the gaping tear. Qos…Habraum realized.

  Hundreds of Particulates flowed into a more massive portal...

  Remembering the other Cerc saying one Particulate remained, Habraum soon realized they were leaving. He couldn’t believe how normal that sounded in his mind.

  A new scene appeared, the lone Particulate beginning repairs on the damage wrought by the Farooqua. Aut’ala lay trapped and asleep inside the heart of the space-time tear, reliving his greatest crimes as recurring nightmares. Meanwhile, the tear pulled him apart molecule by molecule over four millennia…

  “Rogguts,” Habraum grimaced, his head feeling like he’d experienced three lifetimes. The Cerc approached the other Habraum, who stood underneath the hovering Particulate. Up close, this ancient being appeared wizened and thin beneath the midnight cloak. He writhed, as if wracked by incredible pain. What held him in the air, Habraum couldn’t guess. His own mind was reeling.

  “Let’s get him down.” The other Habraum raised a glowing fist. Habraum did the same, aiming right while his counterpart aimed left. Both fired crimson blasts just above the Particulate’s arms, hitting something solid. The Particulate soon dropped, a puppet cut from its strings, hitting the ground hard. Both Habraums rushed to his side. Just like the Cerc had seen earlier, this creature was massive beneath that midnight cloak.

  The other Habraum helped the Particulate up with a grunt while Habraum steadied him with both hands. The Particulate looked so thin, the snow-white pelt hanging off him. His rodent-like mouth curled into a weak smile. “You found…your other self.” His voice was a paper-dry whisper.

  “That I did,” Habraum muttered. “You could’ve been a mite less subtle.”

  Despite his size, the Particulate was quite easy to lift. As the two Habraums moved him, the white expanse began fading before a forest of segmented veins, dark, towering, and reaching as far as Habraum could see up. The flooring had a wrinkled gunmetal grey texture stretching in all directions. The insides of the Zenith Point. And the structure they had freed the Particulate from was a wreath of glittery coils cracked by both Habraum’s biokinetic blasts.

  “You tried to help the ancient Farooqua, yea?” Habraum inquired as the trio moved forward. In what direction, he couldn’t guess. “Advance them along?”

  The Particulate nodded weakly, still on one knee. “That had been my species’ goal. Help other younger races with the potential and right evolutionary path to ascend. But…never had we been more wrong than with the Farooqua.”

  “That’s why you left this universe,” the other Habraum concluded. “To make sure no other species committed such horrendous acts.”

  The Particulate bowed its head low in shame. “Allow me a moment to recoup some strength.” The group stopped…and the surroundings shifted again to a different section of the Zenith Point. This one was more mechanical, more austere in its monotone grey. And the Particulate, more hale and filled out, stood amid several massive panels, operating them all at once.

  “Wait,” Habraum inquired. “Are these your memories?”

  The Particulate looked up sharply, more alarmed than before. He struggled to his feet. “No. It’s Aut’ala and the Zenith Point. They are almost fully merged. We must stop them.”

  Habraum exchanged a look with his alternate self and they began helping the Particulate, ignoring the shifting scenes. Until a piercing shriek shredded through him, forcing the Cerc to stop.

  “No,” the Particulate demanded, his voice harsher in its otherworldly urgency. “We keep moving.”

  The strident shrieks continued until another scene bled through the current surroundings. And Habraum couldn’t help but watch. The Particulate wielded whips of energy and was plunging his hands into a wall of dark techno-organic veins covering over some of the Zenith Point’s machinery. The presence in those veins throbbed, desperate to exist. Habraum tasted the fear in the air opposed to the Particulate’s cold, unyielding determination.

  Soon the veins receded into nothing from the technology, and the screams faded into echoes.

  So did that nascent presence. The scene shifted again to Aut’ala in the heart of a much smaller space-time tear. Pulsating blue radiances swirled around the Dreaming Farooqua’s husk of a body, his eyes closed in sleep, spasming as unending punishment persisted. Tiny dark veiny structures branched out at the edge of the Zenith Point machinery, barely alive. Their fear radiated outward and fused with the Dreaming Farooqua’s wasted body.

  This nascent presence found strength and solace in Aut’ala, who also regained strength from this unexpected companion—

  “ENOUGH.” The booming edict swept away the memories before more appeared. In its place were lofty veiny forest structures—much taller and vaster than in the memories.

  The Particulate stood tall and terrifying before the two Habraums, eyes filled with fire. “We must reach the Dreamer before his merger with Ghuj’aega is complete. We’re almost out of time.”

  Habraum stayed put, while the other Habraum looked dazed. He couldn’t ignore that revelation. “Those last visions weren’t your memories.”

  “That is not important—”

  “Those were the Zenith Point’s, yea?” Habraum’s stomach churned and ached as he forced the words out. “The Zenith Point is alive,” he realized in a rough, weary voice.

  The Particulate stared in silence, which was all the answer Habraum needed.

  “You tried to murder it,” he pressed in, disgust growing with each word. “Right after its unplanned conception?”

  More silence. The Particulate had the shame to hide its face beneath those dark, twinkling robes.

  Habraum turned to his alternate self, who looked just as disgusted. “Did you know?”

  The other Habraum raised his hands in innocence. “Absolutely not!”

  “The Zenith Point…” the Particulate finally said, its otherworldly voice merciless, “was built to repair the Farooqua’s damage. Whatever came out of that rift changed the structure in dangerous ways. Started delaying my healing of the rift. This occurred not fifty of your years before the rift was almost closed. I could not risk—”

  “The Zenith Point reached out and you almost killed it.” Habraum shook his head as the pieces in this byzantine story fell into place. Both Aut’ala and the Parti
culate were vile in their approaches. “That’s why it was found by the Dreaming Farooqua, also wronged by your kind. And now we have to clean up the mess you Particulates created?”

  “Habraum,” the other Cerc’s words drew his attention away from the unapologetic Particulate. The other Cerc gripped his shoulders, as if ready to shake sense into him. His expression was empathetic. “I know exactly how you feel.”

  Habraum’s eyes narrowed. “Sharing my name and DNA doesn’t make you a mind reader.”

  “Agreed,” the other Habraum admitted, his thick hair jostling. “But like you, I’d rather be back in my universe, fighting with my comrades, seeing my children.”

  The words knifed through Habraum. What he wouldn’t give to be with Jeremy, Tharydane…and Sam.

  “But,” the other Cerc continued as the Particulate loomed large, swaddled in midnight and twinkling stars, “that won’t matter if Aut’ala and—”

  “Save the lecture.” Habraum shrugged him off, his eyes knifing into the Particulate. He felt nothing but boiling revulsion. Regardless, Habraum knew the greater threats that both the Dreamer and the Zenith Point presented. “Star Brigade will do what’s needed. We find the rest of CT-1 and then destroy this Dreaming Farooqua.”

  Chapter 35

  For several blinding moments, Khal was floating…

  …until hard gunmetal grey flooring rushed up to smack his chest.

  “Ow,” he gasped, clutching his ribs. Familiar alarms blared all over, making it hard to think straight. Rolling on his side, Khal saw Marguliese’s slender frame face down and motionless nearby.

  Khal hurriedly sat up. “Marguliese,” he had to shout over the alarms. “You OK?”

  The Cybernarr pushed up to a crouch. “I am unharmed.” Marguliese brushed her ponytail from that beautiful golden face, studying their surroundings in quick and calculating sweeps.

  The last thing Khal remembered was Phaeton diving into the Zenith Point. Now he was in what resembled a spacious hangar bay.

  No sign of CT-1 or their ship. “Where the hell are we?” Khal wondered aloud, rising to his feet.