Eternal Horizon: The Chronicle of Vincent Saturn (Eternal Horizon: A Star Saga Book 1)

by David Roman

  “Cosmic Six?” Spaide repeated. “I like that.”

  “Make that the Cosmic Seven!” Thanatos appeared out of nowhere and slammed down his mighty hand, nearly toppling everyone over.

  Following a moment of stillness, the group broke apart.

  It was a touching moment as Spaide bid the Xenians farewell. He could barely keep his cool attitude. “Good luck, my friend,” he said to Vincent and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Remember everythin’ we taught you.” With those words, he turned around and began walking away.

  “Hey, Spaide,” Vincent called out.

  “What is it?”

  “Thanks, man.”

  “For what?”

  “For everything. For believing in me.”

  “This isn’t a goodbye, fool,” Spaide said, walking away. “You’ll have plenty of time to thank me later!”

  Vincent noticed that Gaia was getting ready to head away as well, escorted by several Urtans.

  “Wait!” he shouted and went after her.

  She turned to face him, suppressing her fear. “Vince…”

  He stopped before her, opened his mouth, but said nothing. They stared at each other, at a loss for the proper words, strangers from opposite sides of the galaxy whose paths have crossed—with an unspoken bond between them.

  “Make sure you stay alive,” he half-whispered, looking in her eyes. “There’s so much we haven’t talked about yet.”

  “You too, Vincent Saturn,” she said after a brief pause. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on his cheek.

  And Vincent stood there, stunned, a weird feeling of jubilation passing through his body as he watched her go down the hall: the alien woman who conquered his heart.

  The monitors inside the chamber lit up for the live feed, as well as the millions across the planet: their new King was about to make his speech.

  “My dear brethren…” Galadan’s image appeared on the screens. “It’s less than an hour before the dark army enters our world…” He paused, looked down, and then up again, as if staring at the heavens. “I was the one who led this rebellion against them. I was the one who promised you freedom and salvation at the mercy of the Republic. But, I was wrong… so wrong…” He paused again, as if begging his people for forgiveness. “All of our professed leaders, the people who stood alongside me during my dream, have cowardly fled, leaving us to our doom… but I am with you until the very end. Is it because I feel guilty for what I had done? Nay, for I still believe what I’ve done was done in perfect time before the toxin of that cult had flooded every corner of this planet!” Galadan raised his arms. “Because I know that for over a billion years, this is our home! This is our planet! We were here and will be here until the end of Pantegonia! And I’d rather die defending it than to live like a slave!”

  The crowd began cheering.

  “How will the world remember Urtan?” Galadan continued. “Who will tell the legend of how we fought so bravely? Stand with me, my brothers! Let’s give them one more fight! Let them know that Urtans would rather die in battle than give up! May the power of the One watch over us!”

  “All hail Galadan!” the soldiers began to accolade until eventually settling down.

  Their attention was on the monitors.

  The armada neared closer and closer.

  CHAPTER XIV

  The Wrath of Cosmos

  Every second in that scorching chamber seemed like an eternity. They stood watching that malicious meteor shower of ships descend upon them. There were no weeps, no farewells—just a mutual tranquility.

  Vincent looked around. What did you get yourself into, Vince? Here he was, wearing that odd armor with a blaster at his side and the mysterious sword in his hands, standing in the vanguard of intelligent reptiles, ready to sacrifice his life for a cause that had nothing to do with him in the first place. Maybe this is how I’ll die. He suddenly felt that he needed more time, that he was not ready, that this… this...

  This is not a dream, fool.

  He closed his eyes, mentally parting with everything he once knew...

  No. He’d seen too much to die. He had to believe—to believe in the impossible.

  As he was contemplating, he heard a whisper; Damocles was reciting one of his poems:

  “We were not supposed to meet today,

  Nor tonight, or tomorrow,

  But she came knocking on my door,

  Whispering her soothing words…

  She promised to stop the pain and sorrow

  And take me in her warm embrace.

  I wished to lay my weapon

  And welcome her to stay,

  Instead I stared death in the eye,

  And said that not today.”

  Vincent opened his eyes and glanced at the big man. Damocles was prepared and in the right state of mind. That’s exactly where he needed to be: grasping that stubborn confidence. Vincent exhaled deeply through his nose and clenched his fist. I am going to live through this. I must live through this… I will live through this…

  “I’m ready,” he said.

  “The first warship has entered our range of fire!” Lieutenant Conridon said.

  The enemy ships were becoming discernible in the monitors.

  “Wait for it,” Galadan replied, keeping his cool.

  There were flashes as the swarm of vessels pierced the atmosphere one after another.

  “Sir, a dozen more are already in!”

  Galadan ignored the panicky lieutenant and continued to monitor the fleet. “Fire!” he shouted finally.

  “All stations, fire!” one of the generals screamed into the transmitter.

  The entire sky lit up from the thousands of rockets, energy spheres, bullets, and laser rays blasting upwards, creating a hellish spectacle of fireworks. The din of explosions intermixed with that of the machine guns, rendering it impossible to hear anyone speak.

  The persistent fleet continued to advance. The enemy warships were black, ranging to over half a mile in length, their bow shaped like the beak of a bird of prey and the back resembling a trident. Force fields lit up around each ship as it took the heavy resistance from the Urtans. Nevertheless, the continuous offense forced the shields to cease functioning and some of the warships exploded in midair. One of the burning vessels spread apart through the smoke clouds and came crashing down into a nearby building, creating a mountain of debris and shaking the very foundation of the castle itself. Several more fell far off, destroying Urtan structures.

  And then the enemy began firing back.

  A hail of green energy blasts rained down on the city. Urtar-Ban was ablaze in an instant. Most Urtan tanks and machinery were destroyed almost immediately; those brave ones remaining shot away at the enemy in a futile attempt to take a few more ships with them.

  The underground chamber was filled with dust.

  “Air attack!” Galadan yelled out. “Send out the ships!”

  “First wave!” the general repeated.

  Urtan jets flew up to face the fleet like a small cluster of gnats attempting to assail an entire murder of crows. But the accuracy of Urtan pilots was flawless: the repetitive blasts from the fighters forced several more of the warships to fall down.

  To answer this petty attempt, the Order retaliated with their own one-man fighters. The warships opened their gates, and thousands upon thousands of trident-shaped vessels filled the sky, taking on the Urtan squadrons.

  The fighting seemed hopeless. The Urtan proficiency was quickly silenced, for their ships were outnumbered thirty to one. The warships began landing throughout the city and releasing the dark forces of the Order.

  Humongous tanks that maneuvered on spiked spheres began their advance to the castle, clearing the path; robots in the shape of giant spiders with an array of guns and a pair of razor-sharp blades stormed the alleys in search of any survivors; jetpacks containing two men—one at the controls and a smaller one up top—began floating over the streets, firing down upon any ta
rget; and the Order’s infantry, the Horde, flooded the city like a shadowy tsunami.

  The warrior monks of the Horde were humanoids reinforced in blood-stained black armor and a horned helmet. Although all of them carried phasers, they also had large scimitars on their backs with the purpose of “soul purging.”

  “Our ships are taking tremendous damage,” the general said. “There are too many of them. Permission to release the back up.”

  Galadan exchanged looks with Duell. “We wait,” he then commanded, suppressing his panic.

  *

  Spaide tensely gripped the controls, sitting in that small vessel. There was an entire company of ships behind him—all awaiting his command. They were in a secret base that was built within the walls of the ravine behind the castle.

  He was nervous. Not because he was afraid for his own life—no, the Dirsalian was as much frightened as were his Tel Kasar companions—but because he was afraid for the Urtans. He’d never commanded any ship but his own, let alone an entire squadron.

  “Come on, Duell,” he muttered, looking at the speaker. “I’m ready…”

  He continued to watch the outside events on his panel with bated breath.

  *

  There was a loud bang that rumbled throughout the city, and the power plants began dying. The chamber was reduced to a shadowy grayness; the only light remaining was from the crystal-powered monitor.

  “They took out our power,” the general said, trembling.

  “We wait!” Galadan repeated, his face twisting with the urge to fight.

  They watched quietly as the last of Urtan ships exploded in the sky. Nearly half of the Urtan army was wiped out within ten minutes, yet there was utter silence amongst the troops in the chamber. They had only one thing left: Duell and his word.

  Smoke from the burning foundations seared the sky, covering it in shades of orange, red, and black. Most of the enemy warships had landed, but some remained floating over the city’s outskirts.

  Suddenly a piercing noise came from the sky. A gargantuan saucer-shaped vessel atop a spike spiraled down into the courtyard. The force of the impact caused a small earthquake, destroying the remaining statues and sending up a cloud of debris.

  Everyone in the chamber began coughing.

  “Arm your weapons,” Galadan commanded, twisting his staff; its ends began glowing in a neon color.

  The Xenians, Vincent, and the soldiers pulled out their weapons. It was only a matter of minutes.

  As the dust settled, the enemy ship was in clear view. The spike forming its bottom portion plunged deeply into the ground. The arms extending from its shaft inverted for support, changing the shape of the ship to that of a spider towering over the courtyard.

  Enemy tanks began surrounding the saucer, the small fighters flied in circles above it, and members the Horde gathered around.

  “You were right, Duell…” the general whispered. “They’re saving the castle for last…”

  An access ramp began lowering from the ship. The monks formed two throngs on either side of it and began humming a depressing chant. After a minute, the ship’s gate opened and several regiments of staff-wielding warriors descended the ramp. Their armor was more detailed than that of regular monks and was topped with white mantles depicting crimson tridents.

  “The Warrior Priests,” Galadan explained. “The warrior elite of the Order.”

  The priests marched the length of the courtyard, stopped before the stairs, turned to the dreadful army, and raised their staffs with a horrible cry.

  A raucous drumbeat resonated through the square and a large group of women followed the priests. Their head and face were covered in a mask, revealing only eyes full of anger. They wore long skirts, but their upper bodies were bare save for the metallic bra and shoulder guards. Vambraces with blades covered their forearms. A belt with knives and explosives hung loosely around their waist, and in their hands they carried staffs as well.

  Leading them was a half-nude woman covered in tattoos. She had long, pointy ears pierced with metal coils, fiery red hair formed in a ponytail and two thick braids hanging on either side, and glistening eyes.

  “The Abbess Aurora and the High Clergy,” Galadan said. “The mouth on that woman—it’ll blow your eardrums.”

  An enormous creature walked behind the clergy. He was visibly over seven feet tall and nearly as broad with long horns extending out of his shoulders and elbows. His body was mostly bare, covered in tattoos as well, and his bald head was much smaller in comparison to the rest of his form. The only clothing he had were an armored skirt and massive metal boots over his hoofed feet. In his hands he carried a bizarre, hammer-like weapon.

  “A Kaball?” Exander asked in surprise.

  “Tyranno,” Galadan said. “A bodyguard to Aurora and a devout worshipper of Cosmos. Although they’re situated in Dahanburg, the Order has worshippers from every corner of the galaxy.”

  “He’s mine,” Damocles said. It’d been a while since he had a chance to fight someone bigger than him.

  Finally, Damien Dark himself marched down the ramp. Around his pallid shoulders was a wide metallic collar with long leather strips hanging over his bare torso. Black bands wrapped around his biceps, and wrist guards covered his forearms. He wore roomy pants that were tucked into his greaves. A loincloth was attached to his spiked belt, covered in strange symbols. He was walking all by himself with a twisted, conceited grin. He had neither bodyguards nor weapons, for he seemed like he needed none. He walked past the priests, ascended several steps, and turned around to face his army.

  “He’s right above us,” Galadan whispered.

  Duell shook his head.

  “Faithful Ones!” Damien bellowed out, raising his arms. “Hear me!”

  The drums ceased, and the mass fell silent.

  “That’s where they are!” Damien violently waved his hand at the castle. “That’s where the cowards hide! The very same heathen bastards who’ve desecrated the name of Cosmos, destroyed our temples, took our planet, and killed thousands of our brothers and sisters!”

  The mob responded with vilifying shouts.

  “I know you hear me, Galadan!” Damien whirled around. “Cosmos as my witness, I promise to kill everyone before I punish you!” He clenched his fists in front of him, the veins of his white arms filling with blood. “You’ll watch all your men, women and children slaughtered before your very eyes! You’ll hear their howling as I completely obliterate Urtan from history!” He raised his arms and turned back to his army. “Prepare for expiation!”

  “Expiation!” the mass repeated. “Expiation!”

  “Death to Galadan!” Damien rallied his men. “Death to Urtan! Death to enemies of Cosmos!”

  Then there was a sound of a loud gong, and the entire Horde dropped to their knees and folded their arms across their chests, continuing their dismal chant.

  Damien got down on one knee, lowered his head and stretched his arms towards his ship.

  “What’s happening?” Exander asked.

  Galadan quivered. “He’s coming…” He looked over at Duell, unable to control his tremor and repeated, “He’s coming…”

  Tadoom! Tadoom! There were series of thumps that ringed through the air. Tadoom! Tadoom!

  A gigantic creature filled the doorway of the vessel, easily soaring over fifty feet in height. He was a humanoid with rugged golden skin, had a squared lower jaw with two horns extending from the chin, and deep-set sullen eyes peeking through dark pits under a protruding brow ridge. Long black hair was shaped into a huge crest atop his bald head with more small horns on either side of it. A cuirass with a glowing crystal in its middle extended down to his knees, and mechanical boots with round feet, resembling thick tree trunks, enclosed his lower legs. In his gauntlet-covered hands, he carried a trident the size of an electrical pole.

  Tadoom! Tadoom! The courtyard shattered with each step the giant took. Tadoom! Tadoom!

  “Jesus…” Vincent broke the si
lence. “What the heck is that?”

  “Cosmos…” Galadan mumbled.

  “That’s Cosmos?” Vincent gasped. He blanched with dread. His chances of surviving began to plummet. He looked over at Duell. Now he knew why everyone thought the Xenian was crazy.

  “No fear, Vincent,” Duell said, noticing his reaction. “We will do this. Remember—no hesitation. Once we go out there, just attack and trust your instinct.”

  Vincent nodded. If he was going to die—which now looked like an assurance—might as well die fighting. He looked up at the cavernous ceiling and, for some reason, out of all things, his mind traveled to the woman he recently got to know… Gaia, I wonder if you’re okay… I’ll probably never see you again. There’s so much… so much I wanted to say…

  “Back up,” Duell said, and everyone moved away from the bomb, continuing to observe the remaining screen.

  Cosmos reached the steps. He glanced about, his small eyes sparkling beneath that angry frown. “RISE,” his voice exploded like a thunderbolt.

  The army arose, but still held their heads down, not daring to look directly at their deity.

  “My God!” Damien shouted, raising his arms. “The forces of the heathens have fallen! Our brethren are rounding up their remains around the city! Galadan and his court are hiding in the castle!”

  “BRING HIM BEFORE ME,” the giant commanded.

  “Yes, father.” Damien bowed and turned around. The priests lined up behind him, and they started marching up.

  “Now!” Galadan screamed out, and Duell hit the switch.

  There was a loud click, but nothing happened.

  Everyone froze.

  Galadan looked over at Duell in panic.

  “That idiot,” Exander fussed. “Spaide!” he shouted into the transmitter.

  Outside, Damien came to a halt, sensing danger. He glanced back at Cosmos.

  “YOU NARROW-MINDED FOOL—” Cosmos managed to gripe out as an explosion ripped through the courtyard, destroying the lower portion of the stairs, killing half of the priests and separating him from Damien.