The Path of the Fallen

by Dan O'Brien

  E’Malkai fingered the hilt of his father’s blade as he plastered himself against the wall; whatever it was crept right behind him. He had been wandering the level for close to an hour, but had not yet found the engine room or the control room from which everything could be accessed. He drew the blade, the exit from its sheath like a whisper.

  Gripping it tightly, his fear was replaced with purpose.

  The shadow passed the corner.

  It was still headed forward.

  E’Malkai moved quickly.

  His free hand wrapped around the shadow’s arm and pulled it around its back. The edge of the blade immediately went to its throat. “Make a sound and I will slit your throat. Nod slowly if you understand,” growled E’Malkai.

  The figure nodded and let itself be pulled into the light. E’Malkai craned its neck back and saw that it was man. Shaggy brown hair and an equally disheveled beard framed frightened features.

  He brought his hands together, clasping them with a slick sound and wringing them against one another. A whimpering sound emanated from his throat. “Please don’t kill me, the master told me you were coming. She said that you were here,” he crooned.

  E’Malkai looked down at the man. “I am going to take the blade away from your throat. If you run I will kill you, do you understand?”

  The man nodded again and E’Malkai pulled away, depositing his blade back into its sheath. The man turned to him, his figure hunched slightly and a maniacal look on his face. “She said that you would come,” he repeated.

  “Where is your master?”

  E’Malkai looked around the darkened corridor. He did not trust the strange old man, but then again he lived here, or at least had working knowledge of where things were.

  “You wish to see the master?” he called, the question hollow. His head tilted as he spoke. He laughed then, a tiny, almost child-like sound. “Of course you wish to see the master. That is why you are here.”

  “Can you take me to her?

  He nodded several times and then bounded down the opposite hall into which E’Malkai had ducked. The youth had to jog to keep up with the man, who turned back occasionally. Scampering forward until he came to a corner, he stopped and waited, watching E’Malkai.

  “Fast for an old man, aren’t you?”

  The man nodded and bolted again, his stifled laughter echoed in the halls. The lights flashed over E’Malkai as he dodged down corridors. Disorientation swept over him as he realized that he did not know where the old man had gone.

  “Stop,” he called.

  The old man obeyed, sliding to a stop and bounding back to him like a hound. “Is your master the owner of this vessel?” queried E’Malkai breathlessly.

  He shook his head and reached his hands out toward the ceiling, his fingers flexed. “She is eternal.”

  E’Malkai pointed to the walls and the darkness.

  “Where are we? This place is like a maze.”

  He jumped up and down, spittle forming at the corners of his mouth. “Almost there.”

  E’Malkai opened his mouth to speak again, but the man was off once more. He ran on all fours now, and then on two. E’Malkai couldn’t be certain. The flashes of light and darkness played tricks on his eyes. He could have sworn he saw small mechanical creatures moving about in the darkness, climbing in and out of ducts; synthetic webbing cast in purposeful patterns where there was injury to the walls.

  The man skidded to a stop in front of a steel door. Lettering had been scratched away; eroded from time, or something else, he thought as he looked to the crazed old man who shook as he touched the door, rubbing the words. There was a possibility that it had been rubbed away. Though he would bet everything he owned that this was the control room and that his master was not a woman at all.

  He touched both hands to the door, rubbing it gently. “This is master’s room,” the old man spoke reverently. His face darkened and he spun on E’Malkai, face scrunched and eyes hateful. “Be nice to master. She is kind and gives me answers when I ask.”

  E’Malkai nodded. “I will be polite.”

  The craven little man pushed the door open and revealed exactly what the youth had expected, except for the smell. He worshiped the ship’s computer.

  “Master, I have brought him.”

  The lights of the control board glowed and flickered. Automated controls had been programmed before the ship had crashed. The voice was indeed feminine. “Biological sample retrieved. Two more remain on first deck.”

  The man’s face showed his horror. “There are two more?”

  E’Malkai stifled a laugh. “Your master didn’t tell you?”

  The man slapped himself in the face and moved toward the control board. “Master, why did you not tell me of the other two?” he called desperately.

  The control board whirred.

  “Request not understood, please repeat command.”

  The man placed his hands over his lips as if he held a clever secret in his grasp. “She is being coy. She sometimes plays games, tests me.”

  “I see,” replied E’Malkai and then stepped forward. “Computer, restore voice protocol and activate level mapping.”

  The old man looked at him in horror. “You cannot speak to her like that it. It is rude to demand things of her.”

  E’Malkai ignored him as he approached the screen above the board. It encompassed the entire wall and hummed to life as the pixilated dimensional outline of the vessel flooded the screen. There was a dark seat in front of the control board and E’Malkai plopped into it.

  The old man nearly screamed, a vein popping out of his forehead as he spoke. “That is the altar to the master. You cannot sit upon it.”

  E’Malkai craned his neck to look at the man. “You are worshiping a machine, you ass. Sit down and shut up before I finish what I started in the hall.”

  The man wrinkled his face. “She is the master.”

  “And you are an idiot,” returned E’Malkai without turning, and then touched the control board. “Activate inner ship communications.” Static answered him, signaling that the channel was indeed open.

  *

  Mete and Arivene sat near each other in silence. There had not been a word exchanged since the youth had stepped aboard the elevator. The static of the ship’s communications startled them both, their weapons drawn.

  Eyes were wide in anticipation of battle.

  “You guys still alive up there?” echoed E’Malkai’s voice.

  Mete rose, his face ashen.

  “By the Believer, the Ai’mun’hereun is a ghost.”

  The laughter rolled through the ship, though the pitch was higher than it should have been thanks to the communicators. “I’m not a ghost, Mete. I’m using the ship’s communications to talk to you.”

  Arivene tapped the walls with the tip of her blade.

  “Are you trapped in the walls?” she called.

  The laugh came again.

  “Just follow the halls that have light. Is that easy enough?”

  The lights of the elevator illuminated and the panel flooded with color. The siblings turned and walked toward it hesitantly, touching the outer clear shell, jumping back as it slid away. Their startled cries were stifled as they realized there was no threat.

  “No need to fear. I’m in control of it,” called out the youth’s voice once again. The siblings nodded to one another and stepped onto the platform. They were subsequently wrenched into the darkness below.

  *

  E’Malkai chuckled to himself and turned around to the see that the crazed old man had curled into a ball and was sleeping rather loudly. The lack of the man’s irritating narrative was reward enough. “Computer, play back last visual memory of the vessel.”

  The whir of the computer came and went, attempting once more before the automated voice responded. “Unable to retrieve last visual file. File has been corrupted.”

  E’Malkai smirked and leaned back in the chair, his hands behind his head. �
��Computer, history of planet Terra.”

  “Terra was created during the 31200th century of the Mitior Empire. Its purpose was the 2nd field-testing of the program 3RF: The Intelligence. The program was designed to colonize uninhabitable worlds.”

  E’Malkai sat forward, his words hurried. “Computer, suspend program.” The computer sat quietly as E’Malkai leaned back in confusion. “Computer, history of planet Earth.”

  The voice continued. “Class 112-A planetary entity established in the 4133rd century of the Mitior Empire. It was invaded and eventually destroyed.”

  “Computer, suspend program,” repeated E’Malkai, his mind reeling. He began to whisper to himself. “This cannot be true.” E’Malkai looked over at the old man. “Computer, specifications of this vessel.”

  The computer whirred. “Serial code UFSTK-0120 Galaxy VII. Transport vessel of the Mitior Empire. Phoenix-Class freighter. Capacity for seventeen times the speed of light.”

  “Computer, location of the survivors of the Galaxy VII.”

  There was no hesitation this time.

  “There are no living survivors of the crash of the Galaxy VII.”

  “Computer, were there survivors at the time of the crash?”

  “Seven survivors and the entity chamber of Culouth.”

  “Computer, what is the entity chamber of Culouth?”

  “The entity chamber of the Culouth is the collected knowledge and protocol of the invasion forces of the governmental house of Mitior. It is programmed to simulate society and to enslave humanity as it has done on previous worlds.”

  “Computer, where is the location of the entity chamber?”

  “The entity chamber is within the confines of the largest gathering of heat signatures, several miles into the atmosphere.”

  “Computer, what is the status of the entity chamber?”

  “Evolved beyond its capacity, it now yearns for destruction of what has been created. There is a statistical possibility that it will succeed in global decimation.”

  The outer lock opened and E’Malkai did not bother to turn, his eyes were focused on the screen. He knew that either the old man had crept away, which would not mean much considering that he could track him from the control room, or that the siblings had arrived. That was not nearly as important as the information that he had unlocked. He got his answer as Arivene crept alongside him, her head coming over his shoulder.

  Her delicate hand rested on his arm.

  “What is all of this?” she wondered, her eyes sparkling.

  E’Malkai had left the floor mapping system on the screen while he had been investigating the histories of what he had come to know as fact and fiction.

  “They are computerized readouts of the vessel. They detail every inch of the ship and its components. Exactly what we need if we intend on getting this ship airborne once again,” replied E’Malkai, his usual exuberance tainted by what the computer had revealed to him.

  “What is a computer?”

  He sighed, flicking his fingers, searching for a way to explain. “They are advanced machines that you can tell what to do. They can be programmed to carry out tasks. They are very common on the Lower Plane.”

  “Why would someone want a machine to do their work for them?” queried Mete, stepping close. The red glow of the ship’s schematics cast a crossing pattern of colors over his face.

  E’Malkai could not argue that. “It is not that they wished to replace men with machines, but that the workload became far more than humans alone could handle. Machines had to be built to sustain processes while humans continued to advance. I suspect this is something that you will not be able to understand. I doubt you would ever understand, even if you lived ten lifetimes.”

  “Computer,” whispered Arivene as she reached out to touch the control board.

  The control board fluttered and the female voice returned.

  “Please continue verbal command.”

  Arivene looked to E’Malkai and he smiled. “Ask the computer something. You must always say Computer first, and then the command second.”

  She paused and looked back at her brother who merely shrugged. This was as foreign to him as it was to her. “Computer, where are the Fallen?”

  The computerized noises startled her and she fell into E’Malkai’s lap, blushing a shade of scarlet. She was quickly on her feet again as the computer responded. “The Fallen is an inappropriate command phrase, please rephrase command.”

  She scowled and looked at the youth.

  “I thought you said it would answer my question.”

  “It doesn’t recognize the name. Let me try for you.” She nodded and stepped aside. “Computer, locate largest group of heat signatures within a thousand-mile radius.”

  The sounds came and went much quicker this time. “Location approximately two hundred miles southwest of present location.”

  E’Malkai gestured to the screen. “There you go. The Fallen have made it to the northern marker as I had asked them.”

  She nodded slowly, obviously not believing the strange words that came from a machine, and backpedaled toward her brother. “My Ai’mun’hereun, how did you find this place?” spoke Mete.

  E’Malkai pointed back to the curled-up old man. “Found this crazy old bird in the hallways. He led me here, kept telling me that this computer was his master.”

  Mete crouched next to the slumbering man and pushed back his hair. Upon seeing the grizzled features and wrinkled face, he leapt back as if he had been struck. “This is Councilman Tresnre,” he exclaimed.

  E’Malkai stood. “I thought there was no longer a council? How can he be a councilman?”

  Arivene knelt beside the man and nodded as well. “I was a child when I saw the Three Warlocks banished. I had assumed that they had perished, but it appears as if he survived here in the Temple.”

  E’Malkai approached the man and fixed him with a critical eye. “Makes sense, I guess. There are vacuum-sealed rations aboard, in a cargo bay or mess hall perhaps. He could survive for a long time here.” He cocked his head to the side and his eyes widened as if in sudden understanding. “He is one of the ones who participated in my father’s banishment, isn’t he? This is what happened to the ones who Higald cast from the Fallen.”

  Mete nodded grimly as the man’s eyes snapped open.

  He pushed himself to his feet, his legs kicking out from underneath him as he tried to scramble away. “Demons,” he screamed as he thrust his hands out, falling against both E’Malkai’s and Mete’s arms as they tried to restrain him. “You brought demons to the master’s chambers.”

  Arivene stepped forward and smacked him across the face. Her small hand stung. His wide eyes watched her in silence. “Tresnre of the Fallen, stop this madness,” she commanded, her voice stern.

  “Well done, sister,” commented Mete with a smile as he pulled his hands back.

  “Indeed,” echoed E’Malkai.

  “That name,” he whispered, not taking his eyes from the autumn pools of Arivene’s eyes.

  “That name is your name. You are Tresnre of the Fallen, once a council to chieftain Higald, banished for your betrayal of Seth Armen, son of Evan,” finished Mete as he looked at his sister.

  She watched the old man closely.

  “Seth Armen,” whispered Tresnre.

  There was a light of recognition in his eyes.

  “My father,” spoke E’Malkai.

  Tresnre looked at the son of Armen.

  He knew.

  “You are Seth Armen’s son?” Mete and Arivene watched closely as E’Malkai nodded. “And I am Tresnre of the Fallen?” he queried with a strange glow in his eyes.

  “You betrayed my father and condemned my family to death,” finished E’Malkai with a restrained nod. “How is it that you came to be in this place?”

  Tresnre looked to each of them and did not find the faces of friends. Instead, they saw him for what he was: an enemy. “It is all fuzzy, I have not spoken of the Fallen i
n, I don’t know how long…”

  “It has been nearly two decades,” answered Mete with a nod.

  The man looked at Mete in shock, but continued. “Yes, the others and I came here to hide. There were Umordoc in the Temple. We fought some of them, but eventually they just left and took the lives of the other warlocks with them. Some time ago, the voice started to speak of heat signatures and people coming. I honestly did not understand what was going on.”

  E’Malkai watched the man’s eyes and turned away. With a sigh, he sat back into the chair once more. “Computer, report capacity of the core.”

  The screen blinked from the red outline of the floor mapping to statistical and numerical graphs and figures that lined each side of the screen. “Magnetic engines intact, ionized warp core stable. There are at this time no fuel leakages or malfunctions.”

  “Computer, initialize engine.”

  A louder sound emanated now.

  Though it was not from the control board, but from the ship itself, a shaking sound that shuddered through every piece of machinery. Arivene cried out as she fell to the floor, her balance offset by the thunderous motion that shook the ship. Mete as well was forced to place a hand against the wall to keep him from falling.

  “What in the name of the Believer is going on?” called Mete over the noise of the ship.

  E’Malkai reached out and steadied himself against the control board as the thunderous shaking evened itself out. The roar of the engine could now be heard clearly.

  “We are about to see whether or not we can use this ancient hunk of junk,” commented the youth over his shoulder. Steadying himself in the seat, he acknowledged the computer once more. “Computer, engage startup sequence for thrusters.”

  The control board snapped alive for the first time. The lights blinked and rebounded off one another. “The startup sequence has been commenced. Only remaining viable pod is the control deck; current occupancy four heat signatures. Estimated time of viable flight is twelve hours and forty-seven minutes.”