by David Tucker
“What the—” the words caught in Mapia’s throat as he spotted the blood.
The marine’s muddied military-issued ion-armour, which had been of a particularly good grade and cost a shitload to get, looked damaged and badly battered. For some reason Mapia felt compelled to investigate instead of retreat as he spotted the unusual dents. He wondered what had done this to such quality armour.
Mapia rolled the marine over with, he noted, little of the marine’s assistance and much effort from his own boot. The marine’s face plate was clearly visible as she turned, and Mapia’s brow wrinkled as he saw the shattered visor … and the thought of what could shatter a TPA visor made him even more nervous and uneasy.
Mapia moved in closer and could see the marine’s entire suit was covered in splatters of blood and had visible signs of heavy combat fatigue and damage.
“Marine, report immediately, what the hell is going on down there?” The marine didn’t move, showing no indication of hearing the command.
Slightly annoyed, Mapia opened the dilapidated visor. The woman’s bloodshot eyes stared up at him, blinking as though she’d only just now realised where she was. Slowly coming round, the marine whispered incoherently as the five remaining squads squelched their way over, their weapons drawn on the private, clearly spooked by her unusual appearance. With his own sidearm now drawn Mapia leant forward, “Marine, I said what the hell is going on down there? Where are the other squads? And where the hell is the Artefacts’? REPORT damn it!” He poked the marine with his pistol. The marine’s eyes watered as they rolled towards Mapia, finally becoming lucid. Mapia moved back, confused, as the private burst into tears and blubbered out a response.
“They’re all dead, all of them slaughtered, they … they killed us all … like we were nothing.”
The marine’s hand moved to Mapia’s, who started to recoil until he saw she was holding a small object. Mapia had to peel back the blood-stained, armoured fingers to retrieve it.
Forgetting all else, the lieutenant smiled as he recognised the artefact … finally we’ve got it, the Aze’tome Vessel is ours!
Somehow, unlike her squad mates, this marine had escaped with it, bringing what they’d come here to accomplish and simply handing it to him. The same artefact they’d spent the last few years searching for … Well actually, he thought, still annoyed, we’d come for the Ple’stone, but this was just as good. The Aze’tome was their bargaining chip for keeping the damned Tel’nagara on their side, and if things got ugly, bought some insurance. The Ple’stone was important to this plan, but the Aze’tome, this was what bound their new allies, and gave his command and religion a chance against the SED. Mapia grew dark for a moment as he wiped the blood and mud off the artefact. Damned alien freak; now look what’s happening, I’m losing men left right and centre … damn you Salvador and damn your alien and your damned revolution.
Mapia brought the object up to his face, fascinated by its obscurity. Small at ten centimetres long, it was easily concealable, yet the object had an extremely unusual design for what he’d predicted would be a plain stone or fossil.
This object was far from a smelly old fossil. It had a cylindrical base with a protruding green crystal rod, moulding back into itself a few times, with metallic-looking supports of various lengths intricately woven through it with a craft that hinted at perfection.
As Mapia looked, the object seemed to shimmer oddly in the light, and sounded like it was filled with a liquid, gurgling every time he moved it … It almost looks like a tool or shape moulded for some unknown but specific purpose. In an abstract sort of way, it looked kind of key-like. As he scrutinised it, his eyes locked on its base. Funny little inscriptions in an unfamiliar dialect, and a large symbol depicted what looked like a curved scratch mark, representing a crescent moon or—
The dying marine cut through his thoughts again; Mapia despaired at having to look away from the key. “The Cap just told me to run, and don’t stop till I get back,” she gurgled through the blood spilling from her mouth. She raised herself a little higher, “I wasn’t quick enough was I Lieutenant? I … I couldn’t outrun them, none of us can.” Mapia looked down, only now seeing the puncture marks in her abdomen. The mud had done well to previously mask the wounds.
As Mapia scraped away the crud, blood started pouring through the marine’s armour, gushing into the sludge of the planet’s terrain.
Damn it, Mapia panicked, I’ve got to get out of this place … now!
As he was about to turn and order a full retreat, he heard more shots ring out from deep within the Temple. The echoes soon disappeared, giving the mist back its quiet surroundings as the jungle’s orchestra also diminished. It was almost as though for the first time since being there the planet had finally noticed Mapia and his men were intruding, pausing now to look upon them.
Mapia began fiddling with his lapels as he looked back to see the injured marine’s eyes coming to rest. Despite his lack of empathy for this lowly marine, he felt compelled to say something, “Um, you did well Private, your sacrifice—” Before Mapia could finish his sentence, the woman’s eyes shot open and she screamed, belching blood. Mapia reeled backwards in shock, falling in the mud. He looked accusingly at the marine, as with his last effort she shakily raised her hand straight up, pointing at the sky. At the top of her lungs she screamed out her dying words.
“RUNNNNNNNN, FOR THE TRUTH’S SAKE … RUNNNNN!”
Her words reverberated through Mapia’s head but as quickly as the woman had re-animated she collapsed again, her face sinking twisted and gaunt into the mud as she twitched out her final spasms.
Mapia quickly forgot the marine, or anything else for that matter, as a dark red glow lit up the entire area and dragged Mapia’s attention skywards; the unearthly glow was soon lighting up the whole forward position he’d set up before the Temple. Mapia craned his neck, squinting through the mist, trying to see what was creating the mysterious light. It was getting brighter as every trooper focused on where the dead private had been pointing.
Mapia was the first to gape in horror as the dark shape began emerging from the swirling fog, blocking the entire sky. Mapia’s hands began to shake uncontrollably.
The colossal blood-red ship emerged majestically, parting the clouds only a few hundred metres above him. Almost immediately his squads of marines began crying out in fear, some firing wildly in vain at the craft, the men interpreting its menacing shape instantly as a threat. Mapia froze, looking up in complete and terrified awe. The craft was menacing, but it was also captivating – it almost looked natural, as though it had been grown rather than built, a bit like the artefact they had retrieved.
Mapia couldn’t hear what was being yelled at him by his men. He just watched this ship that seemed to have a flawlessly smooth glistening surface. For a second he forgot his fear and hate for the planet, and just watched with breath held in his throat.
He realised that the entire craft was smooth because it was covered in thick … what was it? He thought as he cocked his head … skin! And as he looked closer he saw protuberances grow over the flesh as though it was riddled in cancers. As clear as he could behold the ghastly sight above him, it was definitely covered in a strange living flesh.
Before Mapia could recover or issue any kind of command, thousands of blue circular objects flared above them; the objects looked like flat glowing disks and seemed to hang in the air only metres below the alien ship. The sight was truly surreal and, still without comprehension, he watched as thousands more lance-like streaks appeared from each disk and flew towards his position. The ship disappeared from sight as the lances rained down at every angle from their place of origin—
Mapia snapped back to reality as the first crackling thud hit, burying itself deep into the soft mossy ground beside him. Scrambling back, in fear and horror, Mapia noticed that the lance was an object he’d never seen before and looked almost … again … natural. It was a giant three-metre spear-shaped crystal, which see
med proficient in piercing through the ground. A blue, fluorescent liquid was trapped deep in its interior, making the entire length of the lance glow. Mapia Jumped as more hit the ground and he realised the extent of his danger. He looked over the clearing and saw one of his marines fall, impaled by the deadly protrusion. Mapia’s mouth opened to make an order, but no words came as he watched in terror.
The crackling lances became the only sound he could hear, even above the cries of his men. Everywhere he looked it was raining blue, it was absurd and terrifying all at once. A whole platoon of armoured marines was being attacked and beaten with spears, which were undeniably effective at killing them.
Mapia saw appalling injuries inflicted as every marine broke formation and bolted for some kind of cover. One even managed to make it into the Temple’s archway, while his following comrade fell short, pinned in many places to the ground. Mapia knew that whatever the crystals were, they were able to penetrate the hardened nano-steel armour, the best the Seekers of Truth had, like it was nothing.
Within seconds Mapia could see no more, the world around him turned into a glowing, deadly downpour. He was forced to just stand there, dumbfounded, as his remaining squads of hardened marines were completely annihilated around him. And then as quickly as it had begun, the last lance fell with a dull thud, and all became deathly still and quiet, as if nothing had happened at all.
A full minute later Mapia blinked and comprehended he was still alive. The spears were everywhere around him and he slowly turned a full circle in silence. The shapes punctuated the ground encircling him in a bizarre forest of crystal bamboo … he couldn’t see one marine and Mapia doubted if any one spot other than his own had a clearing like he was standing in. What the hell had just happened? he thought bizarrely.
His hands were still shaking as he was welded to the spot. For some reason the deadly strike on his command had left him alive, with a two-metre circle imprisoning him. Whatever had attacked obviously wanted him alive, and this scared Mapia more than the attack itse—
Mapia’s heart skipped out of pure unadulterated fear. Freezing cold air was breathing on the back of his neck! He could feel the presence of another form standing behind him and he could tell it was much larger than him. Trembling, he slowly made himself turn around, Mapia no longer had breath in him to gasp when he saw the Tel’nagara’s giant form towering over him. The alien seemed to have materialised out of nowhere.
The lieutenant stumbled backwards as he flicked his eyes over his sidearm, which luckily he was still clenching in his right hand. He began raising the weapon shakily, towards the freak that had supposedly been sent to help them. Mapia’s rage overtook his fear, “You, you were supposed to help us you son-of-a-bitch, not slaughter us!”
The creature stepped forward methodically yet strikingly fast. It pushed Mapia’s pistol down giving him no chance of levelling the weapon. The alien sounded a little strained as it spoke in its normally guttural voice, “I did help you human, in fact I saved you … for now. It was me that created a temporary disturbance so the K’latone crystals avoided you.” The creature paused momentarily, looking almost nervously towards the craft above them, before hurriedly speaking, “Now, give me the Aze’tome as was arranged. This is what General Salvador agreed to and ordered you to do. You must hand it over.”
Mapia spat out a curse and screamed at the alien, “What, are you kidding? Salvador wanted us, his own men dead, I don’t think so, you … you cursed, alien … freak. You have fooled us, somehow this is a doublecross, I know you have screwed us over, you were supposed to evacuate us, not make pin cushions of my men.”
The creature let out what sounded like a sigh, its freezing breath clouding and washing over the lieutenant’s face. “Human, I’m sorry, but I have no time for this, hand the artefact over now, or I will take it, with or without your hand still attached.”
Mapia quickly handed it the artefact, realising from its tone that it wasn’t bluffing. The creature abruptly opened a part of its armour and a needle slid out, stabbing the key and sucking it dry. The creature placed the empty key into a small fold of its garments, looking relieved as it spoke to itself, ignoring him completely.
“And now it is done, all portions are where they should be. The board is reset and a chance has been opened …”
Mapia’s anger built as the creature turned to leave, ignoring him as though he was of little significance. His voice was incredulous, “And now what am I supposed to do, just come along nicely and accept that my men died for some good reason?” He faked the concern for his men hoping an obvious warrior like this one would like it, and take pity on him. “This was not part of the deal. You were supposed to help us in exchange for the Aze’tome and then after we took the Ple’stone, then you were to have your Aze’tome … you’ve betrayed us alien …”
Without even turning the creature spoke once more calmly. “No … things have changed, the portal will not be shut … the incomplete Ple’stone has changed everything. Yet these things are of little concern for you, your opinion one way or the other means little to me. You won’t be coming any further in this journey and your life has reached its end. I soon will make my intentions very clear to your general and leaders … I am not interested in your people’s struggle … I only care for my quest in closing Her way.”
Mapia blinked in confusion, stunned by the brutal truth of the freak’s information. The creature stood for a few more seconds, and then, as though it had never been there at all, touched the sphere on its chest and stepped into some kind of energy field that appeared from thin air and disappeared, Mapia guessing it to be a rift of some kind.
Mapia fell to his knees, alone. What am I to do now?
He looked up waiting for more of the death from above or some other horror, but to his relief he saw that the alien craft was rising, its shadow moving off into the distance and disappearing into the mist. Mapia chattered nervously to himself, his nerves shattered, “Well whatever they wanted they hadn’t wanted me, they were probably after the freak and its Aze’tome … and I hope they catch you freak and make a blasted pin cushion of you too … alien son-of-a-bitch,” he spat.
Mapia looked down feeling somewhat relieved. The alien must have been bluffing, he thought, I’ve been spared.
He stood for a bit longer staring incredibly at the empty space where the rift and the Tel’nagara had been. He heard some of his marines moaning in pain, bringing him some comfort knowing he wasn’t totally alone. He turned, wondering how best he was going to get out of his newly built prison.
He didn’t give a damn about his men’s welfare, he was just hoping the injured marines were intact enough to help fight him out of here. And any that weren’t; well blowed if he was going to wait for them.
Mapia pushed candidly at one of the crystals as he obsessed over his recent betrayal – the object didn’t move. He tried lifting the lance from its position but it still wouldn’t budge. He gave the crystal his full attention, trying hard to direct his frustration to escaping.
Wrapping his hands entirely around the crystal he exerted pressure and pulled upwards. As it started to slurp out of the mud without warning it began vibrating uncontrollably. The vibrations became more intense, and the liquid began glowing more brightly.
Mapia released the crystal and stepped back, astonished as it sank back down … he stumbled across the clearing until his back hit the opposite side. He jumped as the crystals there too, began vibrating and glowing brightly. What on Halution is hap—
Mapia recoiled, slipping in the mud and falling as the vibrations started to hum. Each lance, one after the other, started taking up the call. Within seconds he was surrounded by the low humming.
What the hell’s going on here? he thought nervously. The hum spread, becoming louder; the whole field vibrating as each lance received and reciprocated the sound of its partner.
“What the hell is this?” Mapia yelled, but his voice was easily drowned out.
The sound w
as now unbearably loud, he held his ears trying desperately to block out its intonation. Mapia began yelling, screaming for the tormenting sonance to stop. His head fell between his knees as he could bear it no more, he was already scared witless and this was too much, he lost all sense of self-preservation as he pushed his face into the mud.
Mapia felt something warm and sticky – he brought his bloodied fingers before his face. His ears trickled blood; both his ears were ruptured and his screams were lost amongst the impossibly loud competing sounds. He fell on his face, but regardless, the sound still managed to penetrate louder and louder as the crescendo grew.
“Shit stop it, please stop, stop …” Mapia’s pain was unbearable; his ears were ringing as blood seeped freely down his cheeks. He sobbed as he spoke, “I can’t take it any longer, STOP PLEASE—!”
Abruptly, as if listening to the plea, the sound stopped. Completely deaf, Mapia felt the wild vibrations within his head calm. He looked up, spittle, snot and tears wobbling in strands from his chin as he spoke, “Thank the reverends, nothing but complete lovely silence … thank you my watchers, for sparing—” With an abrupt and sharp crack the thousands of spears broke apart simultaneously, exploding towards the lieutenant in a shimmering avalanche.
Chapter 6 the Sermon Part 3
Out of character, Osiris muttered a few weak attempts at curses before he continued on with a strained smile, the comm still smouldering from his hand.
“Its technology, gifted from our deity the SINIA, is great and if you do become an integration of this – by way of Immortal – you will have this power at hand.” He grinned to himself at the thought of what he’d just done with the comm in his own hand. It took him a second to compose himself.
