by Craig Gaydas
Our transport stopped in front of a large building with several hundred tinted windows along its façade. Several hydraulic tubes were attached to the sides of the building and a large fountain in the front. It seemed the hydraulic tubes were providing power inside the building as well as recycling the water in the fountain. The entire underwater city of the Hydrophants seemed to be powered by the ocean around it.
We were greeted by two soldiers dressed in white uniforms adorned with a blue star pinned to the front. One of them slipped their rifle over their shoulder and opened the door. Vigil stepped out and entered the building, but Embeth turned back to us before entering.
“I guess we part ways once again.” He looked toward the building with unease in his eyes. “I will see you soon.” He followed the soldier into the building and vanished behind the door of tinted glass.
“Come,” said Ajox. “You need to see something.”
Instead of returning to the transport, we walked about a quarter mile to another building. It wasn't as glamorous as the Consulate or as big. Instead of windows, it had a beige brick exterior with an archway at the front. Above the arch hung a sign with a single word: Sepulcris
The double doors seemed to have been constructed from a heavy wood like oak. Where the Hydrophants would get such a material to construct the door was a mystery. Ajox passed his hand over the flat door handle and the doors swung open. A screen next to them roared to life and a digital image of Hydrophant face peered back at them.
“Access granted,” the face said.
We stepped inside and the doors swung shut behind us, closing off the only light source in the building. We stood within complete blackness. Ajox began fumbling around next to me.
“Sorry about that, I shall have this room lit up as soon as I can,” he explained. “I didn't realize Cronis had left already.”
Suddenly, the room was awash in a pale yellow light. Ajox stood next to me with the palm of his hand on the wall. When he removed it, I didn't see any sort of light switch.
“How did you do that?” I asked, motioning toward where his hand had been.
A brief look of confusion came over him before he realized what I was talking about. “Oh, this?” He placed his hand on the wall and the lights switched off, leaving us in the dark once again. Seconds later, we were covered in light as he pressed the wall again. “It's a light wall panel. This is one of our oldest and most cherished buildings. In an effort to keep the architecture intact and maintain its historic roots, we decided to install as little wiring as possible when we upgraded the electrical output. These walls are nothing more than touch panels, designed to harvest our own inherent static electricity and channel that power into the light, emitting diodes embedded within the walls.”
“Hey, that's neat.” I strolled over to the wall and placed my palm (the real one, not the fake one) on the wall, but it did not light up as bright as before. “I hope I didn't break it.” I pulled my hand away as if it had just caught on fire.
Ajox chuckled. “No, it's just that humans do not generate the amount of static electricity we do.”
The room we were in formed a perfect circle. In the middle, surrounded by two golden pillars, was an L-shaped desk carved from what appeared to be solid marble. An oversized leather chair, mounted on four wheels, sat empty behind it. Several feet behind the desk stood a darkened hallway, blocked off by five metal bars that ran horizontally across the opening.
“This is the antechamber of the Sepulcris,” explained Ajox. He motioned toward the desk. “That is the desk of the city's Archivist, Cronis.”
“Archivist?” I immediately thought of the Archives on Caelum. “Just like the library on Caelum has?”
Ajox shook his head. “No. The Archivist on Caelum is best described as the keeper of knowledge, more like a librarian. Cronis is the keeper of history, our history, to be precise.” He pointed toward the barred walkway. “Beyond those bars house the greatest of Vaire's society, enshrined forever to educate, empower, and improve future generations.”
“Why are you showing me this?” I asked.
“Knowledge,” replied Ajox matter-of-factly. “The planet of Vaire is just a speck of dust among the countless stars of the universe. I don't need to tell you that there is so much more beyond the desert nomadic villages of the Shreen and the aquatic metropolis of the Hydrophants. Those of us who have been honored by being enshrined within these walls have been an enormous part of our growth as a society. Embeth told me you were eager to absorb and learn, so I thought it would be apt to bring you here.”
I nodded slowly. Vanth taught me much in the art of fighting. Grillick taught me much about technology and even Calypso had taught me much about history. Despite all of my newfound knowledge I had acquired since my initial contact with the Explorer's League, I always yearned to learn more. “He was right,” I responded. “I would like to see what you have to show me.”
He smiled before moving behind the desk. A flat purple disk was embedded within its surface and he placed the palm of his hand upon it. After several seconds had passed, a gritty metallic voice boomed from an overhead speaker.
“Welcome Ajox, your digital signature has been accepted. You may pass.”
The bars slid aside, allowing us passage into the hallway. I followed Ajox down a slender stone passage which broke off into several side passages. We continued along the hall until it veered left around a corner. Before the turn was a passage, which forked off to the right. Ajox turned down this passage. It widened incrementally for several feet before a chamber marked the end. The chamber was dimly lit, the flickering light from electronic torches casting random shadows across the room. The shadows led to a large, square object in the center of the room. About a foot above it, a ghostly holographic head rotated 360 degrees. As the Hydrophant face rotated towards me, I gasped. It looked just like Satou.
Ajox saw the look on my face and smiled. “Now you see why I brought you here. Satou would have wanted it this way.” He placed his hand on my shoulder. “Satou was Vaire's greatest biologic engineer. His medical science breakthroughs cured many diseases and saved countless lives. When he left for the Explorer's League, he left behind a void that no one would fill. His life was celebrated, and his death was mourned. He lived his life improving the quality of life for those he loved and he protected them until his dying breath. He told me you were like the son he had lost long ago. Go to him.”
With a deep breath, I moved closer to the tomb. Like the sarcophagi of ancient Egypt, the Hydrophants enshrined their dead in similar fashion. My legs shook so bad I might as well had been walking on rubber bands. By the time I reached the tomb, I had to prop myself up by one hand. A gold plaque sat just below Satou's holographic face. I craned my neck to read the words inscribed upon it.
“The actions of many may sunder the universe, but the actions of one can rebuild it.”
The words blurred as water filled my eyes. A single tear managed to escape and fall on one of the words: Rebuild.
“I will,” I whispered with a cracked voice. “The Consortium will be rebuilt stronger and better than it ever was.” I ran my hand over the plaque and wiped away the tear. For several moments I remained silent while watching Satou's head turn slowly. Ajox interrupted as I collected my thoughts.
“We are born from the ocean and it is believed that the soul returns there upon death,” he stated as he moved next to me. “Satou's heart belonged to Vaire and now his soul resides here as well.”
“Thank you for bringing me here,” I said. “I never had a chance to say goodbye.”
Ajox turned to me and placed his hand on his chest. “As long as his memory remains alive, you will never have to say goodbye.”
I looked down and ran my hand along the surface of the tomb. It was built from a stone-like material and cool to the touch. Like corral, several tiny holes littered its surface. “Well then, this isn't goodbye, old friend.”
“We should get back to the others. There is a
lot of work to be done,” Ajox said.
I nodded and followed him down the hall, but not before stopping and looking back one last time at the tomb. Perhaps it was just a trick of the lights, but when Satou's face rotated toward me, I would have sworn he was smiling.
Moro
Moro longed to have his daggers in his hands once again. Being cooped up in a cell aboard Calypso's flagship drove him to the brink of madness. He took no solace when he looked down at the guard on the floor as he lay twitching in a pool of his own blood. The severed leg of the bed stuck out from his neck at an awkward angle. He frowned and uttered a guttural growl. As the guard's death spasms subsided, Moro ran his hand over his face before yanking the crude weapon from his neck. Luckily, the bed had been mounted to the wall, so the missing leg went unnoticed by the guard. Moro had been able to keep the bed level by keeping his back to it and maintaining the illusion of still being bound at the wrists. The guard never knew what had hit him.
Moro muttered curses under his breath as he wiped the blood from the weapon, using the guard's jacket. He cursed the weapon itself and the pains in acquiring it. The bolts which secured it to the bed were fastened tight and the only way he could get it off was by using his brute strength, wiggling it at the weakened joint, which had worn thin over the years. Using such a weapon to kill a person was like an artist using a broom to paint a masterpiece. In the end, the project was done, but the results left a sour, unfulfilling taste in the mouth. He couldn't even scavenge a better weapon from his victim. All of the guards had been under strict orders to remain unarmed so he could not overpower them and use their weapons against them. He chuckled at the irony.
He stepped out of the cell and wrapped himself in the shadows from the dimly lit hall. They landed some time ago, so only a skeleton crew remained on board. As he moved cautiously through the halls, Moro was not surprised to discover the dead guard was the only one on duty at the time. Although Scribe gave him the tools to secure his release, he gave no instructions on what to do once he managed to escape. He didn't need to. Moro knew what he had to do—he needed to finish the job he had been given. The first order of business was getting off the ship unseen.
Clutching the iron bedpost, he set off toward the cargo bay. Although the ship was docked with nothing more than a skeleton crew aboard, he took no chances. With a quick burst of wind produced from his wings, he took flight and crawled along the ceiling. Silent and wrapped within the comforting blanket of shadow, he passed unaware crew members as they continued with their daily routines. When he reached the cargo bay, he was relieved to see it was devoid of crewmembers. The exit ramp had been deployed earlier, but remained open. Nothing stood between him and the world of Caelum.
Quietly, he descended to the floor and peered outside, making sure no guards stood nearby. Confident that the area was clear, Moro stepped outside. Beyond the long walkway and beautifully manicured courtyard with its bright-colored flowers and short cut grass stood the ancient stone Akropolis, home of the High Prince. His fist clenched tightly around the bed post. Calypso would be inside right now with his usual smug look and cocky demeanor. He longed to rip the look off of his face. With a newfound eagerness to finish the task, he took one step forward, but a heavy hand fell upon his shoulder, freezing him in his tracks. Very few people in the universe were capable of catching Moro unaware and he tightened his grip on his makeshift weapon. A voice called out in a hushed tone—a familiar voice.
“The situation has changed,” the voice commanded.
Moro whirled around, bedpost in hand and came face-to-face with Scribe, holding the bowl helmet of Kale under one arm. “Don't you know it is bad karma to get between an assassin and his target?”
Scribe chuckled. “It may be bad karma to let you go through with it.”
Moro lowered his makeshift weapon and cocked an eyebrow, his red eyes filling with intrigue. “What do you mean?”
Scribe sighed. “I have just gathered some new information regarding Calypso's little coup. It seems he may not be the one pulling the strings after all.”
“Has Corvus come back from the dead?” Moro deadpanned, referring to the time traveling human leader of the Ascended who had been murdered by Calypso.
Scribe shook his head. “Not that I am aware of.” Scribe looked around nervously. “This place is not safe. We cannot linger here long.”
Moro looked down at the bedpost in his hand before tossing it aside like a piece of trash. He held out his hands. “Where the hell am I supposed to go? You can easily blend back in with the Council and ride this ship out of here. I just murdered a guard so they should be sounding the alarm any minute. Caelum is not safe for me.”
“Yeah, well that's where I come in,” a gruff voice said from behind.
Moro spun around, once again caught unaware. He hoped it was just the distraction from the news he just received and not an erosion of skills. A vaguely familiar human stood before him. He wore a Frisbee-sized disc on his wrist and a hoop earring in each ear, one of which he tugged on mindlessly. Moro recognized him as the man who temporarily took over the duties of Cartographer in Nathan's absence.
“What the hell are you doing here?” asked Moro.
Sam frowned. “Nice to see you too.” He looked down at his wrist and used his index finger to punch at the navigational system. “Damn, I was hoping for more time,” he muttered before looking at Scribe. “According to my calculations, we have about five…six minutes tops.”
“Then it is time for you two to get out of here,” Scribe responded.
“Get out of here?” asked Moro incredulously. “How do we plan on doing that?”
Sam leaped forward and wrapped Moro in a bear hug. Scribe retreated to the ship with a wave. “Goodbye Moro.”
Confused, Moro tried to poke at Sam before realizing his bedpost weapon was lying on the ground, several feet away. The air around them started to crackle with a sizzling sound similar to bacon frying on a hot griddle. Suddenly, the landscape in front of them split open, revealing nothing more than an empty, dark void. A strong vacuum pulled at Moro and it felt as if his skin would be torn from his body. “Wait—” he cried, but the words were lost within the vacuum. Sam was punching coordinates into the disk on his arm and Moro realized what was about to happen. He stopped flailing and welcomed Sam's bear hug with one of his own.
“Hold on and don't let go,” Sam cried through clenched teeth. The words were barely more than a whisper, but Moro understood.
A loud popping sound, like a cork from a new bottle of champagne, could be heard. They both vanished from the surface of Caelum before the air around the courtyard calmed, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just taken place.
From the dark recesses of the ship, Scribe stood at the entranceway and brooded, watching the area where Moro and Sam once stood. Two Defense Fleet soldiers patrolled the area near the location where Moro and Sam stood only minutes earlier. They tossed Scribe a polite nod before circling the path leading around the courtyard. His eyes drifted from their forms, fading in the distance, to the entrance of the Akropolis; a double thick wood door surrounded by the ancient diamond-shaped stone archway that tapered off near the roof. Inside those hallowed walls was Calypso, currently meeting with the other Council members on how to best replace the enigmatic Kale, also known as Scribe. What Calypso didn't realize was he knew what he had been planning. He was with Varooq and Hark-Kalech in the Council chambers right at that moment, formulating a plan to supplant him. War was coming to his doorstep, yet he focused his energy on replacing a Council member? Why?
“Who is pulling your strings Calypso?” he muttered.
Gods and Demons
After leaving the gloom of the tombs, Ajox and I trekked back to the Imaginarium in silence. By the time we reached it, The Timeless were already trickling out of the place. Menjaro and Arcturus were having an animated discussion in a corner just outside the entrance. Arcturus held a two-headed hammer the size of a battleship over his shoulde
r. Strange runes were carved in the shaft and glowed with a faint bluish light. Menjaro, on the other hand, was unarmed, save for a rope, which lead to the harness of Liath, his trusty gorilla mount, who stood by watching the conversation with only mild interest. Vayne leaned against the wall smoking an obscenely long pipe. The smoke drifted past his helmet o'goggles (my nickname for it), where it stuck to several of the lenses, but it didn't seem to faze him. When he spotted me, he tossed me a mischievous smile.
“Where have you been hiding?” he chuffed.
“I have been kind of busy doing this whole 'saving the universe' thing,” I replied sarcastically.
He chuckled, but it died on his lips when he glanced behind me. His helmet rotated counter-clockwise and a new set of lenses took the place of the old ones. These were smaller with a green tint. I turned to see what troubled him and immediately regretted it.
Mortem strolled out of the building wearing a demonic smile, as if he had just been promised a fresh cache of souls. He turned his pale yellow eyes toward us and they glowed when he spotted me. A smile formed so slowly upon his dry, shadowy lips that they creaked, like a rusty hinge. It could have been my imagination, but for some reason, I doubted it. Vayne walked away from us toward Horus, who had just walked out of the building, leaving Ajox and I alone with him.
“Well, look what we have here,” Mortem cackled. “It is the Cartographer himself, gracing us with his presence.”
“You are a bit behind the times. Maybe you didn't hear the news, but I am not the Cartographer anymore,” I countered.
His eyes narrowed to mere slits as he studied me. “Hmm…are you sure about that?”
I was about to ask him what he meant by his statement when Embeth exited the building, looking noticeably pale. He glanced at Mortem sourly before turning his gaze on me. “I was hoping to catch you before he did.” Embeth spat the word out like a watermelon seed.
Mortem's eyes widened and he placed his hand over his heart. “I'm offended by your tone,” he uttered with feigned indignance.
