“The free world you’re building is about to take a hit,” Damian said. “Freya and I were attacked near the border of the plantation district.”
“Attacked?” Eric stepped closer now, his eyes narrowing.
Damian grabbed the back of Zolkon’s neck. “Yes, by two Dark Legion fighters,” he said, pushing Zolkon forward. “I’ll get the truth one way or another. Give me one hour with him.”
“I know nothing,” Zolkon protested. “Kroll would never confide in me.”
“We will find out,” Damian promised. “I’ll extract the truth.”
“This is no good,” Eric said, his face growing pale.
“No, it’s not,” Freya said. Zolkon’s face had already provided answers. She knew her old foe well enough to know when he was lying. This time he was not. Whatever was going on, Zolkon was not part of it.
Eric took a step toward Freya, but Damian stopped his advance by extending an arm to bar Eric’s chest. “No,” he said, handing Zolkon over to Eric. “This is my responsibility. I will tell her.”
“Tell me what?” she said, an alarm tingling under her skin.
Damian said nothing. Instead, he hugged her tight. “I’m ready to tell you what I’ve wanted to tell you all day.”
“Do I want to know?” she tried to joke, but it came out anxious.
A Dark Legion guard approached urgently. “Freya,” he said, out of breath.
Damian released her from his arms.
“Kroll has asked to see you,” the guard went on.
“Kroll is here?” she asked. The surprises just kept coming.
“Affirmative. He has captured an intruder.”
“And what exactly qualifies as an intruder these days?”
“An unidentified, armed subject trying to enter HQ,” the guard clarified.
“Take me to Kroll,” Freya said, frustrated. “Maybe he can make sense out of all this.”
Damian’s touchpad buzzed. “It’s the Dark Legion camp,” he said. “And unrest has been reported. I have to go.”
“Go,” Freya agreed. “We’ll all catch up at HQ later.”
“Don’t forget, we need to talk,” Damian told her before fixing his gaze on Eric who answered the half breed’s intensity with a reluctant nod.
Damian directed Zolkon to join him, roughly.
Freya waited until they were out of range to speak. “So, Eric, what great secret does Damian have to tell me?”
Eric forced a smile. “I would not presume to know what’s knocking around inside that savage’s head.”
CHAPTER 5
ORIGINS
The guards discussed my fate with the head of the village. He was the first adult human I had seen. To my twelve-year-old eyes he was an ancient man, his face dug with unseemly wrinkles and spotted by sun damage. He was tall but skeleton thin, his eyes sunk deep inside cavernous sockets.
Sitting on a boulder a few feet away from the group, I examined my arms and legs, fascinated by the appearance and smell of my seared skin, a few scattered blisters causing me to wince with pain when I touched them.
It was a hot day, which only intensified the memories of the plantation bombings and the scorching heat that followed us as we escaped the carnage.
The village was a dreary settlement of straw huts and tents made with plastic sheets and long, chipped scantlings that offered minimal shelter. Vegetation was sparse; the surrounding hills were dry and grimy brown. I would later learn that the people of Armada, as they called themselves, were nomads, never staying in one place long, always moving and hiding.
My eyes took in the ghastly surroundings. A fearful pang twisted my stomach. Would this be my life from now on? My taste of freedom was gone and my youthful spirit turned bitter. This fate was like a death sentence. Perhaps it would have been better if I had perished with the rest of the plantation prisoners.
A boy and a girl dressed in tattered pants and sleeveless shirts came out of a tent to stare at me from a safe distance. They were younger than me, maybe eight or nine, but had the look of older souls. Their dirt-smeared faces felt like an accusation.
Without warning, the Sliman guards grabbed me. They ushered me inside the biggest hut.
For the first time, I was face-to-face with the ancient man. He studied me with a benevolence that was more alarming than reassuring.
“Welcome, young one,” the old man said. “This is your home now. You are free to walk among us. Equal in all things. Never alone.”
I stayed quiet, waiting for cues from the Sliman guards. No one had engaged me in this way before. The art of discourse was not a skill I possessed. I had come from a dark place, a place of withdrawn souls where iron fists enslaved free speech. We never exchanged more than a few words.
Even when I walked with Nalok, he did all the talking. I listened, secretly hoping never to be singled out again. I feared failing to understand would have been viewed as a betrayal. He spoke on the nature of the universe and the future of all species. I feared for my life on those walks.
He did not ask for my opinion. I didn’t even know I could have one.
“We must talk to the boy alone,” one of the guards said. “I am to remind you of your vows of allegiance, Master of the Armada.”
The old man nodded as he left. Being alone with the guards relaxed me. It was, at least, familiar terrain. One of the guards pushed me down to sit on a wood block. The other guard sat on a wood block across from me.
“You will not tell these people that we lost the plantation,” the sitting guard told me as he leaned in close to me. “Tell them nothing.”
“Of course,” I managed to say, my throat parched and hoarse.
The standing guard took out a communication device. He twisted the top until a short transmitter slid out. A magnetic field pulsed out of the device, forming a swath of light suspended a few feet above ground.
Nalok’s menacing figure emerged in the glow of the light field. His dotted silhouette clarified slowly as I absorbed the impact of his presence.
I raised my chin, fixing my eyes on him. Nalok had gone to great pains to surgically soften his sharp Lagerian features to appear more human. His pointy ears and sharp nose had been smoothed out. Even his red and gold uniform had been cut to de-emphasize his broad shoulders and high waist.
His age was indeterminable—he was bald like all Lagerian lords but, unlike the rest of them, he was tall and muscular. And his skin was not the usual gray. Instead, it was tan and unblemished.
Nalok’s interest in me had always been unsettling and now here he was, reaching out to me from the afterworld. A fear gripped me—the fear that he had somehow escaped the carnage and would soon be coming for me.
The hologram was fully realized, filling up the room with its vivid solidity, when the guards activated the sound.
My message will be hard to accept. I trust that you will find a way to process its meaning, no matter the shock. You, my child, are my one true successor. From this point on, it is your burden to restore peace and bring the citizens of the intergalactic empire together.
You are the only perfect hybrid in the universe. You carry equal genes from two different worlds. You are human and Lagerian.
You have the human capacity for empathy and the Lagerian gift for intuition and reasoning. You are stronger than all humans. You are stronger than all Lagerians. Your genes lack the marker that wearies Lagerians during intergalactic travel. You will be just and merciful and you will prevail.
You must stay hidden to get stronger. Eldaria will not hesitate to kill you. She thinks you are dead, but she won’t be fooled for long. Once she knows the truth, she will not rest until you are eliminated.
Yours will be the life of a fugitive.
Eldaria is the daughter who betrayed me. You are my son. You were conceived in a lab, but that doesn’t make you any less my child. You are my most treasured experiment. You have my ancient genes and you have my trust. You are the hope of all worlds. You are the only possible futur
e that can hold.
Now close your eyes and listen. The power of the cosmos lives within you. To unlock the power in your cells, all you have to do is believe and it will surrender to your will. When you are ready, clench your fists and breathe in until your lungs are full. When you exhale, open your fists and release the power. It has always been yours. Now you will learn to bring it forth and control it.
Accept your gift, my child. It is not our differences but our similarities that matter now. You are the only path to peace in all the galaxies.
The air in the hut grew heavy with humidity and the stench of dead fish. My head spun. I barely had time to recover from the terror unleashed at the plantation, and now the alien I knew to be my master told me I was his son and I must continue his legacy.
What legacy? To my eyes, he was little more than a tyrant and a dead one at that. Why would I care what he wanted? My life, finally, was my own.
The hologram flickered as it began to fade, taking Nalok and my past life with it. Only then did I remember the guards. I was not free after all. I still lived as their prisoner.
As soon as the communication device disappeared under a black cape, a man and a woman entered the hut. They were not young, but they were not old either. They smiled with freshly cleaned faces. The man was thin but sinewy, with short, brown hair. The woman had the brightest cascade of blonde locks I had ever seen. I wanted to reach out and stroke her beautiful hair.
“We are Jonathan and Alicia,” the man said. “The council has decided that you will live with us.”
“We will be your family,” Alicia clarified. “Do you know what that means?”
I nodded to let her know I did. Books had taught me a few things about families and even Nalok himself had once given me a crash course on family life across the galaxy on one of his sunnier days.
“You will be my guardians,” I said, “the ones known as parents.” It was hard to believe those strange words came from my mouth.
Alicia smiled. She took my hand gently into hers. “I would like to call you Eric,” she said. “It was my father’s name. Would you like that?”
“Eric,” I repeated. “Yes, the sound is good.” In truth any name was an improvement. All I had up to that point was the number tattooed on my neck and even that was removed, thanks to Nalok.
“All right, Eric,” Jonathan said, placing his hand on my back. “We’ll soon take you to your home.”
When my new guardians left, I found it hard to stay still. The Sliman guards glanced at each other, then bowed to me before taking their leave. When I heard an engine starting outside, I knew they were going. I could not guess what would become of them now that their master had been defeated.
The dark authorities of my past were all gone. A new life was about to begin. I did not care that there were no facilities. No running water or electricity. I did not care that I would have to coexist with a savage people dressed in tatters. This was freedom. I was free.
I closed my eyes and tightened my fists, breathing in free air for the first time in my life. My eyes snapped open when a searing heat tingled through my hands. Blue flames materialized in my open palms, lighting up the hut like a sudden bonfire. When I turned my hands slightly, beams of blue heat shot from my hands and cut two steaming holes into the wall of the straw hut.
CHAPTER 6
ERIC
His skin suddenly reacted. His palms and neck itched as if an army of ants crawled on them. A dark power lurked in the shadows. They had turned the corner to the town center when an eerie energy rushed through Eric.
The sensation was more intense than usual, almost as if there was an actual mass to the darkness. It reminded him of a feeling he had experienced only once before, back in the underground Plantation network, when he came face to face with Eldaria.
Eric studied Freya’s eyes. She had felt nothing. He had to wonder if his troubled mind was playing tricks on him.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Of course. Why?” he said, too much snap in his tone.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I see you. We’re all ghosts,” he said. “Unbearable spirits conceived in particles of flickering stardust.”
He felt the urge to rub his palms together to access his own dormant energy field. Instead, he held his hands inches apart before tucking them safely back inside his pockets.
He knew his awkwardness would not escape Freya. She was the one person he could never fool. She could recognize his struggles to deal with the forces buried deep within his Lagerian cells. She knew how hard it was to ignore those forces once triggered.
“You’re tense,” she said. “Are you worried about the intruder situation?”
That was a question Eric would rather not answer, so when Finn and Zoe shuffled out of the dining hall to meet with them, he welcomed the distraction.
“Word is that Kroll has left,” Finn said. “Anyone know what’s happening?”
“We’re on our way to meet with him,” Freya said.
“So, it’s not true?” Zoe asked.
“We’re about to find out,” Freya said.
“I can’t honestly imagine a scenario where Kroll would leave without your permission,” Finn said.
Freya shrugged. “Everyone has a right to a private life.”
“Yeah, except you are Kroll’s entire private life,” Finn said.
Frustration flushed Freya’s face. The next logical step would be to mention the Sliman attack and invite the other two saviors to join them. Eric did not welcome that possibility. He had to make certain Kroll had not been compromised by the dark forces he sensed all around. He also had to share with Freya what he had learned about her future.
Eric would not trust Damian to handle such a delicate matter. It was clear to him now that the young man was blinded by his own feelings.
Raising an eyebrow, he fixed his eyes on the Sliman guard who was waiting a few yards ahead of them. Eric forced his way into the guard’s brain waves. He couldn’t access anything specific inside the mutant’s head, but he could attempt to amplify the guard’s impatience and anxiety levels.
He hadn’t tried this mind control trick on anyone in a long time—not since he was a teen trying to get an extra portion of hot bean mush from the village cook. His attempts usually failed as he lacked a strong enough incentive to reach the state of concentration required for the task.
The Sliman guard shifted his weight. “We should move,” he said, his face grimacing as his gaze landed on Freya. “Kroll will not forgive delays.”
Eric was struck by the precision of his own powers. With two strides he joined the guard. Freya had no choice but to trail after them. The guard’s gait became faster, more urgent. They passed HQ and Administration and took a turn towards the crop fields.
Eric’s senses sharpened. Nothing that crackled, flapped or emitted a scent went unnoticed. He swallowed, only to find there was no saliva in his mouth. There was nothing inside or outside. The haunting specter had vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
His nightmares were consistent in that sense. Always brief and always disturbing.
“Where are we going?” Freya asked. “Wasn’t the intruder at HQ?”
“There,” the guard said, nodding to the tree line beyond the fields.
Eric’s eyes strained against the bright afternoon sunlight. There stood a dark figure he did not recognize. A man dressed in a muddied cloak and obscured by a wide-brimmed hat that shaded half his face. The stranger was not quite human and not quite Sliman. Kroll was nowhere to be seen.
Eric called on the power within, drawing it up to the top layer of his epidermis, preparing to fight.
The silhouette took a step forward and reached into its pocket.
Eric steadied his energy as he stepped in front of Freya. He had had visions of this moment before. He knew what had to be done.
The silhouette spilled out of itself, splitting in half, again and again, until the f
ield filled up with orderly rows of identical intruders.
An icy wind skipped across the field and into Eric’s bones. A harsh voice whispered in his ear. You are guilty of refined humility. Your frailty grows faster than your power.
The whisper became a sudden, sharp scream, then a sustained buzz at a frequency so high it was not meant for human ears. The sound pierced his eardrums, causing him to drop to his knees.
Stunned, he tried to clench his hands into fists, but his nervous system wouldn’t respond. A paralysis overtook him. He was unable to move or speak. His unmatched powers had been rendered useless in an instant.
Freya rolled on the ground next to him, disbelief on her face. She tried to clutch her receptor to no avail. The guard lifted her up into his arms.
Then darkness came for Eric, sinking him into a void of non-existence.
***
The dark had never frightened him. The looming shadows of the night when he was a slaved child had been a comfort and a freedom. Eric could see things in the dark that no one else could. He saw translucent colors and pale, flickering lights; he saw miniature creatures making funny faces at him; he saw what lay beyond the darkness.
He sat up on the bed, beating back a massive headache and a growing dizziness. He blinked fast a few times to clear the thin crust over his eyes. Then he focused until objects began coming into shape.
The room was small and bare. The walls felt too close, as if they could barely contain him. Eric grabbed the cold bed pole for support as he rose onto his bare feet. The floor and the walls were made of the same dense metal as the bed. The cold shot through him and reached his chest.
Nothing felt real. He remained still. Was this a dream? Had his visions become so pervading that they had finally replaced reality?
His pounding headache and itchy palms assured him this was real.
He snatched a flask of water from a shelf embedded in the wall. He took a long swig and tried to collect his thoughts. How long had he been out?
Inside him there was a core of power among the most absolute the universe had ever seen. He should never forget that truth. No matter how unwilling he had been in the past to tap into his boundless potential, now was not the time to become skittish.
[scifan] plantation 06 - plantations origins Page 3
