The Circus Infinitus - Genesis Infinitus

by Ethan Somerville

  -the next he was sitting on the floor beside the older man's desk, clutching the stone they called the Crystal. His father's body lay on the floor beside him, visage frozen in agony. Crystallised blood and grey matter oozed from his nose and ears, and only the whites of his eyes showed; proof that the accused had used his mentalist abilities to crush his brain.

  Nothing remained of the events between the two scenes but a seared place that stung like a raw nerve every time he tried to touch it. How could such a hideous place exist inside him, an initiated Kamryte? It seemed as though those vital memories had been eaten away or hidden in a pit so vast not even Jalsad Varen - Eridon's most powerful mentalist - could descend into its depths.

  Thus by his own loss of memory he was condemned...

  The accused gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms so hard they drew blood. Living blood. Not the black syrup of a Necronite. Stars exploded behind his eyes and his temples pounded.

  No, he told himself. Anger is wrong, evil. I will not be seduced...!

  He took a deep, shuddering breath and lowered his fists to his sides, uncurling his fingers. His blood dripped onto the opaque glass floor, adding tiny splashes of colour to the painful white. A few seconds later it ceased as his rudimentary healing system took over, and the scratches closed.

  Slowly the rage slid from him. Again he sat, bereft of all emotion, in the stifling light. What else could he do? But eventually he could stand the whispering silence no longer. "How much longer are you going to keep me here?"

  Resplendent in his ornate councillor’s robes, Jalsad Varen turned from deliberating and looked down at him, his gentle face creased with lines of worry. Sleepless circles shadowed his eyes. It was rumoured he hadn’t slept properly since Shansaric Aelsan and his Necronites had been caught trying to use the TCC’s gate machine to open a door to the Pit of Dark Flame.

  "The decision has been made, Roj Delsaron Delfay," Jalsad announced. The accused's heart lurched. "We have studied all the evidence available to us and under the circumstances, we can come to only one conclusion." He sighed heavily. He was on the verge of a complete breakdown, having laboured for days on the terrible crime;

  FAMOUS GALACTIC EXPLORER RASTON DELFAY BRUTALLY MURDERED BY HIS OWN KAMRYTE SON

  Fresh anger flooded into the accused. What right did the Great Leader have to feel such pain? What right did he have to show such exhaustion? He wasn't sitting down here, his mind stripped bare by the deadstones around his throat! He wasn't about to be sentenced for murder - a crime almost unheard of on this planet of pacifists!

  Oh Kamrys, help me stop this damn anger...!

  "I don't suppose you looked into my father's Lattice Crystal?" he asked softly.

  Jalsad answered in tired exasperation. "Delsaron Delfay, you know very well that lattice crystal technology is still very new, and our machines are still not sophisticated enough to scan an entire LC without destroying it in the process."

  Delsaron leapt to his feet. "Who cares about the corruption of one Lattice Crystal when my innocence is at stake? Or don't you consider it important?"

  "We have no desire to lose a lifetime's work proving what we already know!" declared granite-faced councillor Rameella Ethrish. "You, Delsaron Delfay, are an insane, power-hungry murderer!"

  That did it.

  "How would you know?" Delsaron shook a furious fist. "You believe only what you want to, you mindless puppets!

  "Order!" Jalsad bellowed, also jumping to his feet. "This is the Grand Hall of High Inquisitions, not a schoolyard!"

  Rameella dropped back into her seat - no doubt a plush, velvet-covered thing - and folded her bony arms across her chest. Her colourless face collapsed into a grim mask.

  "Sit down, Delsaron."

  Taking a deep, shuddering breath, the accused obeyed. Oh Kamrys, my Lord, he buried his face in his bloodstained hands, help me overcome this rage-

  "After examining the meagre evidence available to us," Jalsad continued, "and hearing from all the witnesses, we have finally arrived at what we consider to be the only logical conclusion."

  Delsaron sucked in a breath and held it.

  "Delsaron Delfay, Kamryte and master mentalist of the highest order, on becoming linked to an unnatural, mindwave-enhancing Crystal, lost his mind to its power and was forced to kill Raston Delfay, his father, for possession of it."

  "No!"

  "The empty place in Delsaron's mind, either a deliberate mindwipe or an extremely powerful block, was created by himself to stop us from accessing the - the complete truth." Jalsad turned away.

  "I am a Kamryte!" Delsaron shouted. "I would never murder anyone, not even in self defence!”

  Jalsad turned, a strange wetness glistening on his white cheeks. Was he ... crying? It was common knowledge that the Leader wept occasionally, unafraid of displaying his ancient genes. "Of course you wouldn't, but the Crystal bereaved you of your excellent reason." He gritted his teeth as more tears ran down his cheeks. "Now be silent!"

  The accused sank back into his uncomfortable chair and dropped his head, not one shred of hope remaining. He heard the Leader take a deep breath and knew the councillor was trying to fight more tears. But why was he crying? People only cried when they were very upset. Surely-

  Delsaron realised the truth. Jalsad had voted in favour of his life, but was outnumbered. However, as the Leader he was spokesperson for the whole Great Council.

  Oh Jalsad ... I'm sorry...

  "Roj Delsaron ... shar Delfay shar Nartran Ellair shar Umaran ae Kaylith shar Quuora sunra..."

  The accused listened as the Leader rattled off all his ancestors, silently thanking him for believing him - even though it hadn’t done him any good.

  "We, the Great Council of Eridon, find you guilty of the murder of Nea Raston Delfay, and hereby sentence you to lifetime exile to an unknown spacetime. Sentence is to be carried out immediately." Jalsad spun in a glittering swirl of robes and fled the balcony.

  Delsaron sat still and numb. So he was to be exiled - stuck forever on some hostile world alone. He would have preferred death. At least then his pain would only be temporary.

  He heard a pair of doors slide open behind him, and the sound of boots on the hard glass floor. He didn't bother to look up at the guards who would escort him to the TCC's Gate room where he would be shot through time and space - to God only knew where!

  "It's time to go, Delsaron."

  The accused stood up. Tall for his age, he towered over the men. They recoiled from his stare, but soon realised the deadstone torc held his great powers in check. They had nothing to fear from him. He was no stronger than a newborn li!

  Delsaron looked up at the balcony, searching for his mother. She was watching him from stunned, helpless eyes. First a lover, and now a son...

  But Omadon knew. They'd conditioned him well.

  "If I ever see you again I'll kill you!" the little boy shrieked. "I swear by the Creator's Blood and Soul I'll kill you, just like you killed my father!"

  Shocked whispers rippled through the assembly at the profanity. No-one had ever heard an innocent child utter such a curse.

  Delsaron fixed the brat with his most penetrating stare. You poor little fool, he thought. You must live with the reputation you've given me - not I. I will be shot across the fifth dimension, never, ever returning to this place.

  Omadon squealed in terror and dived under the balcony.

  With that, the guards propelled the accused from the Hall of High Inquisition into the ancient corridor beyond.

  The Time-Control Centre was South Saren's most impressive building. It loomed over Delsaron Delfay as he was led down from the steep hill of the old city and around the spaceport's northern perimeter, well away from the ogling crowds gathered on the covered walkway. Not wanting to risk the teleporters in case he somehow used his mentalist abilities to escape, his four leather-clad guards were forced to take him the whole way by motorised cargo transport. He
got to see the TCC in its full glory; a web of sprawling wings radiating from a dome-shaped hub. Its ostentatious insignia was three blood-red arrows encircling a star-speckled orb.

  Before the accused was propelled into a darkened rear entrance patrolled by two white-clad TCC guards, he requested a last look at the sky of the world he would soon be leaving.

  "All right, but be quick!" was the curt reply.

  Swallowing an acidic retort, he gazed into the endless cloud, lit by the soft purple glow of early evening, and let his hungry gaze roam slowly from horizon to horizon, absorbing as much as he could before he was jerked back reality.

  Old Saren ringed the hill behind him, a battered, but stately stone wall protecting her ancient buildings from Arenya's elements. His excellent vision enabled him to make out the crumbling Kerant Building, Saren Academy's ivy-covered Hall of Learning, and the huge, brooding castle from which he'd come, surveying everything like an ageing hawk. Thus he couldn’t avoid noticing the graffiti on the south wall.

  E'mre a'reth nuv' mei ran shar E'mu! (you haven't seen the last of us)

  Necronis Erin! (Necronis Lives)

  He turned away, breathing a silent prayer to his Lord. Why was he seeing evil everywhere he went?

  Necronis Lives. Now there's an oxymoron.

  As he was about to walk into the TCC's dark, uninviting maw, one of his Lord's messengers whispered across the cumulus canopy, batlike wings caressing the cool air. He gasped at its beauty; realising that he would never see one again.

  Tomorrow he would be standing on alien soil, staring into an alien sky ... and breathing alien air.

  "Come on," one his guards grabbed his arm as the kyrox disappeared into the clouds over the ocean. "We don't have all night."

  A nightmarish maze of gleaming corridors followed, each stark and deserted. It didn't take the little group long to reach the Gate Room, located through several security checkpoints, deep inside the central building.

  This chamber was almost as large as the Hall of High Inquisitions; a gigantic expanse of white floor, chromic-crystal walls and high windows providing an uninterrupted view of the light-speckled cities. Taking up one entire wall, the fifth dimensional transportation machine throbbed gently behind its protective glass partition, a strangely beautiful symbiosis of glowing tubes and panels. Two circular platforms, one set into the floor in front of the machine, the other in the ceiling directly above, restlessly discharged and earthed tentacles of multicoloured light.

  Here a portal to any dimension can be created – even the Unmaker’s Pit. Delsaron walked into the room, the sound of his hard-soled boots echoing eerily across the floor. He had to shake his head to clear it of the evil thought – the same one that had occupied the minds of the Necronites who'd broken inside only a few days earlier.

  What is wrong with me, Lord? Why do I keep dwelling on such an unhealthy subject? Please help me!

  "Ahh - so the murderer arrives at last!"

  Delsaron looked up, searching for the source of the nasal voice. A skinny, black-haired man, about his age, stood on a raised dais in front of a three-sided computer console, its 3D screen hanging above. A computer-generated image of fifth dimensional spacetime shifted and changed. The pasty-faced individual was dressed in shimmering black, his thin lips twisted into a superior smile.

  Delsaron realised who he was. Adelrid Merylon, the young genius everyone reckoned would become Eridon's next leader. A cold shiver pulsed through him at the hideous thought. His powers might have been deadened by the torc, but he could still receive the odd mindwave. Nothing but lecherous megalomania radiated from that smug young man.

  If he is to be Eridon's next Leader then I'm glad I'm leaving, Delsaron thought darkly. He met Adelrid's black eyes without fear. The Time-Controller leered down from his comfortable position of authority. A sudden tremble overtook Delsaron, and he realised that Adelrid had slid into his naked mind.

  Search all you like, delsheron, Delsaron thought, furious at the violation of privacy. You’ll never find what you're looking for!!

  “Delsaron Delfay."

  Slowly the accused faced the five members of the Great Council, seated in tiers facing the transportation unit. Jalsad straightened and started down towards him, his ornate robes flowing around his tall, slender form. His pain was crystal-clear, almost as though he was broadcasting it deliberately.

  "In a few moments you will leave Eridon for an, unknown destination," he whispered, "Do you have a last request?"

  "I do," Delsaron said clearly. "I want my freedom."

  Jalsad sighed. "If it was in my power to give it to you - I would. But I was the only one who voted for it." He stroked his earring. "I have no wish to see a fellow Kamryte condemned to the agony of exile." He took a deep breath. "If only I had the power to penetrate your darkness..."

  "The mindblock was not of my doing - that much I am sure of."

  "No!" Adelrid interrupted, "it was of Necronite doing!"

  "Adelrid!" an, authoritative voice snapped. "That was uncalled for!"

  Jalsad and the accused turned as a tall, beautiful woman strode into the room. The structure and fairness of her aristocratic features told Delsaron that she could only be Adelrid's mother. Clad in a glittering, navy-blue outfit that enhanced her athletic body, Ardalla Merylon was the most magnificent female he had ever seen. He couldn’t tear his gaze from the lithe figure undulating beneath the stretchy fabric; the powerful thighs, the full breasts, the flat stomach and mysterious places sadly concealed by the flaring pleats of her short skirt.

  It was rumoured that she was a gynomorph. That made the thought of loving her even more exciting.

  Delsaron remembered that his mind was bare, and that the nosy Adelrid could see every one of his lewd surface thoughts. As he fought to control his rapid heart he banished them to more inaccessible depths. He wondered if it was too late to change his last request to a few minutes alone with Ardalla Merylon...

  Ardalla’s conceited son performed an abrupt about-face. He deflated until he resembled a pasty-faced youth cringing in her impressive shadow. Ardalla swept across the room and ascended the raised dais to his side. The accused could hear their whispered conversation as she checked readings.

  "Hyperspatial tunnel stabiliser should read maximum, Adelrid," she reproved, stabbing a slender finger at a glowing readout.

  "Should it?" Adelrid looked up innocently. "Why?"

  "Because if it doesn't, the tunnel could collapse, exposing the exile to hostile influences from parallel realms." Ardalla thrust a small lever to its limit.

  "Of course, My'arai," Adelrid answered meekly.

  Delsaron didn't. He’d excelled in more practical fields, like electrical and chemical engineering. He knew very little about hyper-dimensional astrogation.

  "But apart from that, everything is perfect." Ardalla smiled, sliding a hand over Adelrid's head and tangling her fingers in his hair. The simple gesture of approval sent delicious tingles down Delsaron's spine. If she'd touched him like that he would have fallen into her arms, not recoiled as though molested by a snake!

  "Thank you, My'arai."

  Ardalla strode down from the platform, her serene face expressing complete confidence in her brilliant son.

  Only Delsaron saw Adelrid close a pale, impeccably-manicured hand around the lever and thrust it back down. His wicked eyes caught the accused's, daring him to inform Ardalla of his treachery.

  His leering voice spoke directly to Delsaron's exposed mind. Go on, murderer, tell her! I dare you!

  "I must apologise for my son’s behaviour," Ardalla's liquid voice drew the accused's attention from Adelrid’s telepathic mockery. "Unfortunately he gets above himself sometimes."

  Delsaron managed a nod.

  "Apology accepted," Jalsad whispered. "What can Delsaron expect as he passes through the hyperspatial tunnel?"

  "Nothing. It will be no more exciting than travelling through a normal teleporter." Ardalla headed towards the glowing metal
plate set into the floor. Stopping beside it she turned to face Jalsad and the accused. "When he steps onto this plate, I give the order for Adelrid to activate the tunnel. Delsaron will be sent to a computer-determined destination via a hyperspatial tunnel similar to the one created when teleporting. Only this one will be longer and considerably more fragile - hence the stabiliser. But he will feel nothing. He will arrive on the soil of his new world conscious - coherent - whole."

  Delsaron gulped. "How do you know this?" he asked suddenly. "Who has returned to tell you?"

  The confidence drained from Ardalla's face. Nervously she cleared her throat. "Hundreds of volunteers," she answered a little too quickly. "Any more questions?"

  "What about the-" Delsaron's vocal chords froze as he tried to ask about the stabiliser. He gulped like a fish, unable to speak.

  "The what?" Ardalla asked in concern.

  Rage consumed him as he struggled to throw up a mind-shield deadened by his torc. Adelrid, you filthy intruder! Get out of my mind!

  Certainly not. I haven't had this much fun in ages!

  "Nothing," Delsaron managed. “Forget it." Adelrid's presence oozed from him, but his evil laugh remained, echoing through Delsaron’s mind.

  What did he have to hope for now? Death? Something told him death was nothing compared to what lay in store.

  "It's time, Delsaron," Jalsad touched the accused's shoulder. "Remember, the Gods will walk with you no matter where you end up." He took the accused’s face in his hands. “Now … now I must do something I know we both will regret.” Suddenly, Delsaron felt a white-hot drill burn into the space between his eyes. He opened his mouth to scream, but then it stopped, leaving him gasping. He fell to his knees, suddenly weak. His head felt like a dreadful weight was pressing down on it.

  “I’m so sorry.” Jalsad helped him to his feet. But you can’t take the torc with you.” He reached around the back of the accused’s neck, psionically input a code, and released the heavy collar.

  Delsaron expected the wonderful rush of his power returning. Nothing happened. He felt almost as cold and dead as before. “Wh-what did you do?” he gasped.