The Shattering: Omnibus

by Van Allen Plexico

  “If you fail, the galaxy dies,” the voice said. “I assumed that was all the motivation you required.”

  Iapetus considered this and nodded. “Excellent point,” he said. He continued to the doorway but then stopped again and turned back. “You never told me who you are,” he said. “Or what you are. Or where you come from.”

  “I have had many names—been called many things—down through the ages,” the voice replied. “But the answer is simple. I am merely a machine.” It paused, then, “The machine that operates this facility. This one—and many, many more like it throughout the galaxy.”

  “Well, machine,” Iapetus said, “it has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Then he did something he almost never did. He smiled. And with that, he passed through the doorway and it slid closed behind him.

  The expression on his face was placid as he re-entered the control room of the tower, but his mind was racing. He understood that the entity with which he had been conversing would be watching, and likely judging, his every move, his every word. He resolved to make as positive an impression as possible.

  Being…nice…to Tamerlane and his band of criminals would be difficult. But the potential rewards… He visualized that vast fleet of ships, those rows of tanks, and—if the voice were to be believed—soon enough the armies manning them, all waiting for someone with the wherewithal to step forward and lead them.

  Yes, he decided. Yes, he could most definitely be nice to Tamerlane and Agrippa, if need be.

  At least for a little while. At least long enough to try to prevent the destruction of the galaxy.

  After all—if it was destroyed, how could he conquer it for himself?

  32

  Some moments earlier:

  Titus Elaro had been sweating profusely from his intense effort to break the mental control over his muscles being exercised by the man in black. Now that the strange being was gone—apparently dragged away by a creature straight out of the Inferno—Elaro found that he had control of his body back. He wiped at his forehead with the sleeve of his red uniform and turned to say something to Arani, only to see that she had already hurried over to speak with General Tamerlane. Meanwhile, General Agrippa was ordering everyone to begin exiting the tower.

  Frowning, Elaro turned the other way and accidentally stepped into the path of a soldier in the heavy white and green armor of III Legion—one of Agrippa’s men, moving very quickly. The two collided and each of them staggered back, though Elaro got the worst of it and barely managed to avoid falling down.

  “Sorry,” Elaro said, recovering his balance and blinking. “I didn’t see you.” He awaited the inevitable retort of a legion soldier, which likely would consist of either an admonishment to watch where he was going, or an apology similar to his own, depending upon the rank and disposition of the trooper in question.

  Instead, the big armored figure merely stared at him for a second through the one-way visor of his helmet. His blast rifle was gripped in his right hand and for an instant, inexplicably, Elaro felt sure the soldier was going to aim it at him. As it happened, the man did not. Instead he turned back and continued on his way, moving deeper into the room while everyone else was moving out.

  Elaro watched him go for a minute. He had noticed the name on the left breast of his armor—”Torgon”—but it wasn’t one he was familiar with. After another second he shrugged, turned, and hurried along on Colonel Arani’s trail.

  33

  One of Tamerlane’s officers saluted and reported that all members of the Lords of Fire were present and had vacated the premises of the tower. Tamerlane thanked the man before turning to Colonel Arani. They stood outside the strange tower facility, a short distance beyond the exit, the others of their legion in their red and gold gathered nearby. Off to their left, General Agrippa was assembling his Bravo Squad in their now-somewhat-dulled Deising-Arry Mark V armor.

  “Are we ready to board?” Tamerlane called to Agrippa.

  The big blond man raised a hand—”A moment, General,”—and turned to one of his officers, speaking in somewhat urgent tones.

  “What is it?” Tamerlane asked, strolling over. “My shuttles are all set to carry us up.”

  “We seem to be missing someone,” Agrippa said, looking annoyed.

  “Iapetus, yes,” Tamerlane said. “But I have no idea what happened to—”

  “No,” Agrippa interrupted. “Not just him.”

  Colonel Arani followed the general over, Titus Elaro trailing behind.

  “Then who?” Tamerlane asked.

  Agrippa appeared very troubled. “Major Torgon,” he said. “He’s a tank and colossus driver normally, but he has been serving as my second during this operation.”

  “He’s not on the Aether link?”

  “No. His icon doesn’t even light up in it.”

  Tamerlane frowned, puzzled. He nodded toward the door in the side of the tower through which they had all just exited. “Do you suppose he’s still inside there? Maybe something is blocking his signal.”

  “Why would he be?” Agrippa replied. “I issued the order to evacuate, and—”

  “He is still in there,” said Titus Elaro.

  The two generals turned and looked at him. “He’s what?”

  “I passed a Torgon on the way out. He was headed back inside.”

  The two generals exchanged puzzled looks before both hurried towards the tower. Arani and Elaro followed behind them. Tamerlane ordered the others to continue boarding but to not lift off yet—just in case.

  The four entered the tower chamber again and at first it appeared as if they were alone. There was no sign of Torgon or of Iapetus—a thorough search earlier had failed to turn up any trace of the general—or even of the big, gray being. Agrippa called out but there was no response.

  The four stood there a moment, each of them uncertain. “Could he have slipped back out while no one was looking?” asked Arani.

  “He’d show up in the Aether link,” Agrippa said, looking off to one side, clearly growing frustrated.

  Tamerlane, Agrippa and Arani each received hails via the Aether link at roughly the same instant, and each turned away, communicating mentally with the person calling them. Titus Elaro, meanwhile, not being a high-ranking officer in one of the two legions represented, didn’t receive a hail. He stood there for a few seconds, then strolled further into the chamber, circling around and past various banks of equipment and control consoles. There was one in particular he was headed toward, and hearing the sudden outcries from behind him made him all the more certain he had guessed correctly.

  Rounding the last corner, Elaro saw exactly what he had by that point expected to see: Major Darius Torgon, late of the III Legion “Kings of Oblivion,” ensconced in the off-white curved seat of the control station everyone had been so focused upon earlier. Torgon’s Deising-Arry armor was off and lay in sections on the dull gray floor. He had also removed the underlying exoskeleton and it now sat off to one side, leaning against another console, looking for all the world like some emaciated being that had given up on life and lain down to die. He wore only the dark gray body glove with its myriad of small, round contact points that transmitted muscle-signals to the exoskeleton and armor.

  “Torgon?” Elaro called, moving toward the man, fully expecting to encounter the invisible force field that he did indeed run into a second later. “Major—what are you doing?”

  The major’s hands were engaged in the one activity Elaro had feared they would be: they were moving across the controls of the console that could create an overload in the stellar power system.

  Elaro turned as Agrippa arrived beside him, followed a moment later by Tamerlane and Arani.

  “The Ascanius is reporting the local sun is flaring again,” Tamerlane was saying. Then he realized what he was seeing in front of him and he fell silent.

  “Torgon!” Agrippa shouted. He beat his massive, armored fists on the clear surface of the force field that separated the
major from the rest of them. “Torgon—you’re causing a chain reaction! You’re going to blow out half the stars in the galaxy—at least—if you don’t stop!” His lips curled back in fury. “Torgon!”

  “Major Torgon isn’t here,” said a voice that came from the mouth of the major but was not his. “My apologies—but I have had to appropriate his body.” A pause, then, “He did, of course, give his life in a good cause: the completion of my sacred mission.”

  “Who—?” began Tamerlane, but Agrippa interrupted. “Siklar!”

  Torgon’s hands hesitated in their typing and Torgon’s head turned to look out through the force field bubble at the four of them. “Yes, indeed. I am now Commander Siklar of the Star-City of Dalen-Shala. And I will not be deterred from completing what I was sent here to do.”

  “You didn’t just die,” Agrippa growled, understanding now. “You did some kind of alien trick—you jumped from your head into Torgon’s.”

  Torgon’s head nodded. “That is essentially it, General,” said Siklar’s voice. “The seer showed me how, before he died.”

  “The who?”

  “Never mind.” Torgon’s hand motioned in a dismissive manner; the movement appeared stiff somehow, as if he had expected his fingers to be much longer. “Now, if the four of you will excuse me for a few more moments, I will conclude my business. And then we can talk.” He smiled. “We will have plenty of time then—all the time left in existence.” He touched a control and the holographic image of the Milky Way reappeared. The local stars were already flaring brighter, and the spider’s web of energy connecting them was growing vividly bright. Moment by moment, the overload spread.

  “Stand back,” barked Agrippa. He leveled his An-Ro quad-rifle in the direction of Torgon/Siklar and pulled all four triggers. In response all four barrels erupted. Energy beams, particle beams, and explosive projectiles all struck the barrier simultaneously. The interaction of the firepower and the shield nearly blinded everyone present, but when Agrippa ceased fire, nothing had changed.

  Agrippa cursed and pounded on the force field again with exoskeleton-enhanced muscles even as Tamerlane moved to the other side and conjured up a blast of cosmic flame. The waves of fire washed over the invisible bubble that surrounded Torgon/Siklar but when they parted and receded the field still stood.

  Torgon’s face smiled at them, only a few beads of sweat running down its side. “You waste your time, Generals. The last moments of existence would better be spent in quiet contemplation or prayer to whatever gods you serve.” He turned back and touched another series of controls.

  “Siklar—don’t do this,” Tamerlane called. “We defeated the enemy! Goraddon is gone!”

  “His hordes remain,” said the alien voice coming out of Major Torgon’s mouth. “Whether he directs them or not, they have already been led here, to our galaxy. They have already descended upon us. Our fate remains the same, and the enemy’s victory remains inevitable—unless I take their victory from them.”

  Elaro was watching the display screens as Tamerlane argued and Agrippa pounded. “We are approaching the point of no return, sirs,” he observed. “If there’s anything that can be done...!”

  Tamerlane looked at him, then at Arani and Agrippa. He shook his head.

  “What if you order the Ascanius to nuke this location right now?” Agrippa asked, breathing heavily and wiping sweat from his forehead from his futile labors.

  Arani and Elaro reacted to this with surprise, but both quickly found their resolve and nodded.

  Tamerlane hesitated, then nodded as well. “I don’t know what else to do, and we are all dead otherwise,” he said. He activated the Aether link to his flagship and prepared to give the order.

  “Captain Dequoi,” he said when the commander of the Ascanius came on the line, “load nuclear warheads into the forward tubes and—”

  “Belay that order, Captain,” came another voice over the mental link.

  “Sir?” replied Dequoi.

  Tamerlane was puzzled. “Who is that?” he sent over the link, “Who countermanded my order?”

  “Look behind you,” the voice said—and Tamerlane realized he was hearing it both in his head and out loud. He turned, as did the other three a moment later.

  Arani gasped. Agrippa raised his gun.

  Tamerlane’s mouth dropped open. “You,” he said.

  General Ioan Iapetus was strolling almost leisurely towards them.

  “Me,” Iapetus agreed.

  At first none of them had recognized him. His old, black III Legion uniform was gone. In its place he wore a tight, metallic, very high-tech-looking outfit which still featured black as its main color, but with some red, green, and blue mixed in, forming a sort of stylized feather motif down his arms and legs. His expression, however, remained as grim as ever—there was no mistaking that face.

  Agrippa stepped forward, blocking his path. “Your legion is back under Imperial control, Iapetus,” he growled, “and you are under arrest.”

  Iapetus merely waved a dismissive hand at Agrippa’s remark. “We have much more important business to tend to at the moment,” he said. “Haven’t you noticed what’s happening?”

  “We are well aware. But you need to explain what’s going on,” Tamerlane ordered. “What’s happened to your uniform?”

  “No time for that right now, Ezekial,” Iapetus said. He nodded toward the possessed body of Torgon at the controls. “Don’t you understand? We have very little time left in which to save the galaxy!”

  34

  “You are too late,” the voice of High Commander Siklar said to them from within the force field bubble. “We are moments away from the point of no return.” He busily typed away at the controls. “Soon all the sentient beings in our galaxy will be out of the reach of the evil ones forever.”

  Off to one side, General Iapetus—now in his strange new uniform—sat on the floor, working feverishly. He had removed a panel from one of the consoles and was attacking the futuristic-looking equipment inside as if he had trained all his life to do it. Tamerlane was extremely curious as to how he had gained all this new knowledge about the technology in this control center, but Iapetus wasn’t answering any questions at the moment. Tamerlane decided to let him be for now; he had nothing else to lose and no other ideas.

  Just when Tamerlane was frustrated enough to say something to him again, Iapetus pre-empted him: “I believe I have it,” he called. “Be ready. We will have little time.”

  A faint, almost subliminal humming sound that had filled the area all this time suddenly vanished. Simultaneously, Agrippa stumbled forward; he had been pressing against the invisible force field with all his might when it, too, went away.

  It took the others only half a second to realize that their obstruction was gone. Instantly Titus Elaro and Arani leaped to the attack, seizing Torgon from either side. The possessed human soldier didn’t resist; he raised his hands and stood up from the seat, a look of triumph etched on his borrowed face.

  “I surrender,” he said, bowing his head to them. “I freely hand myself over to your custody now.”

  At this, Tamerlane’s own expression darkened. “It’s too late, isn’t it?” he said, a sick feeling creeping over him. “We are too late.”

  Iapetus moved into the control seat before anyone could stop him. He took one thorough look at the state of the systems, then let out a sound of disgust. “He may be right. It very well may be too late.”

  “And how would you know this?” Tamerlane demanded. “How did you suddenly become such an expert on this technology?”

  “Training,” Iapetus replied, not looking up.

  “Training?” Tamerlane gazed down at the other general with an incredulous expression. “How could you have had time for any training?”

  “He had it pumped into me along with all the other lessons,” Iapetus said. “It only took a few seconds.” He smiled up at Tamerlane. “But I am a new man now.”

  Tamerlane regarded him
with a look of extreme skepticism but did not reply.

  “Who did that?” Agrippa asked. “Who are you talking about? The gray giant?”

  “Him? Oh, no,” Iapetus replied. He continued to type. “His kind were simply the previous operatives here. But their time has ended.” He laughed. “I was referring to the entity to whom this facility belongs.”

  “And that would be—?” Tamerlane asked impatiently.

  “Hold on,” Iapetus barked, cutting him off. “We have arrived at the critical moment.” Both of his hands were flying about the controls now, touching various surfaces and lighting them up different colors one after the other. He resembled a virtuoso pianist at work at the keyboard.

  Everyone crowded about, watching, struggling to accept the fact that the fate of the entire galaxy seemed to rest literally in the hands of General Ioan Iapetus.

  “Yes,” he whispered, “yes, I think I see...” He manipulated the controls again. “If the power levels in this junction can be lowered just a bit...” Sweat was pouring down the size of his face now. “Yes—yes—!”

  Alarms began to sound throughout the chamber. The lights switched over to red.

  “No,” Iapetus breathed, his eyes flicking from one display board to the next. “No! No, I had it—”

  “What is it?” Tamerlane demanded. “What’s happening?”

  Everyone squeezed in tighter now, trying to see, as if they could understand what the arcane alien displays might tell them.

  “The overload has breached the last of the containment walls I had set up,” Iapetus explained quickly, even as he frantically continued to hammer away on the board. “It is entirely out of control now. There’s not a thing in the universe that can stop it.” His hands came to a rest and he looked up at Tamerlane and Agrippa. He appeared devastated. He shook his head. “It’s all over, I’m afraid. It’s over.”

  “No,” Tamerlane said. “No, there has to be something...”

  The voice of Captain Dequoi came to Tamerlane over the Aether link. “General, this sun is about to go nova. Again. We have to get out of here now.”