The Shattering: Omnibus

by Van Allen Plexico

  When the Phaedrons reached out once more, desiring to advise Goraddon as to the status of the campaign and seeking his advice and assistance with regard to the newly-arriving wave of unknown ships, they again found no traces of him whatsoever. It was as if he had fallen down a hole in the universe.

  Or—as if something had dragged him down a hole in the universe.

  Now their earlier nervousness gave way to outright fear. Those who had always dealt in that sensation now felt it themselves—and felt it in full force. Without the steadying presence of Goraddon and his remarkable ability to calm the Phaedrons and direct them to a singular purpose, their more natural instincts—if anything about the Phaedrons could be termed “natural”—took over. One after another, they turned their blood-red ice-comets about and began to retreat back into the long dark between the galaxies where they dwelt.

  They had found something that frightened them at last, and they were leaving our galaxy behind.

  For now.

  8

  Tamerlane and Agrippa led the surviving legionaries out to meet this new, vast, and astonishingly effective force. Arani and Elaro hurried along beside them, a few hundred soldiers of all three legions trailing along in their wake. They were likewise followed by Sister Delain and other remaining members of the Inquisition. Curiosity filled each of them—curiosity and no small amount of fear. For if this force could dispatch the Skrazzi so capably, and then effect a landing on Holy Terra, what more might they be capable of?

  More to the point—who exactly were they?

  The Imperial soldiers arrived at the edge of the zone where the new ships had landed and Tamerlane held up a hand to stop them from advancing further. They stood there, watching, waiting, not daring to guess what form of alien creature might dwell within.

  The hatch on the nearest ship—a large, apparently heavily-armed shuttle—unlocked and slid slowly open.

  Tamerlane stepped forward, flames at the ready. Agrippa waited a half-pace behind him, the Sword of Baranak in hand. The others readied their weapons and watched, most of them holding their breath.

  A second later, figures began to emerge. They wore brightly-colored uniforms of metallic reds and blues and greens and other colors. They appeared entirely humanoid. And they looked very, very familiar.

  Tamerlane nearly stumbled backwards in shock. Behind him, even mighty Agrippa gasped. So, too, did the others as they saw what the generals had seen.

  Before them across the narrow divide stood four figures, all clearly human. A blond man, an Asian woman, a bald man, and a dark-haired man.

  Tamerlane studied them closer, not believing what he was seeing. But there was no denying it. He was looking at Agrippa and Arani and Elaro. And himself. Bigger, more muscular, more chiseled somehow—but unequivocally them.

  “Who—who are you?” he began, but his voice faltered. No one in his party could quite speak yet, either.

  The big blond man who looked exactly like Agrippa ignored the obvious awkwardness and smiled warmly, and it was a smile to inspire armies and fortify worlds. “Greetings,” he said. “My name is Eagle.” He gestured toward the others on either side of him. “This is Raven, Falcon and Hawk. We are the Hands of the Machine.” His smile widened. “And we have come to save you all.”

  EPILOGUE:

  1

  The last thing Teluria expected to see as she walked out into the plaza at the heart of the Golden City was a small group of aliens sitting around the basin of the Fountain, obviously deeply engaged in an argument.

  Moments earlier, as she had passed through the gateway of the city of the gods and had moved along the main boulevard, she had as usual been cursing the fact that no god could open a portal within the walls of the City, thus relegating her to walking in from beyond the borders of the realm. She had also been thinking about her recently-completed parting from Solonis. That procedure had not been pleasant, but it absolutely had been necessary. His presence within her mind had been driving her nearly mad.

  She had been able to endure his consciousness residing within her head for barely a day after the incidents in the Tower. At that point, she had decided it was time for him to go. And so she had traveled to a dead world far out in the fringes of the human empires, and there forcibly separated herself from him. As his ghost-spirit had emerged from within her body, she thought she’d sensed him being snapped forward in time again, as if he somehow had formed an unbreakable connection to that far-future period where the galaxy had been shattered. She gave but a few moments of her concern to him and his plight, however. She was distracted with a dozen different things, truth be told. Yet in an instant all of those worries evaporated from her mind as she emerged into the plaza and confronted the five Dyonari sitting there—six, if one counted the dead body lying nearby.

  She opened her mouth to speak—to react in some way—but found she had no idea what to say. Certainly nothing she could think of wouldn’t sound comical if she uttered it aloud. It was simply inconceivable that a little band of mortals—albeit aliens—had managed to penetrate all the way into the heart of the great City.

  Questions sprang to mind instantly: How had they passed through the gates? How had they gotten to this level of reality at all? The Dyonari were well-known to possess the ability—either through super-advanced technology or psychic powers or some combination thereof—to travel into the lowest reaches of the Above. But none of them had ever made it here. Never.

  As she stood there, sputtering, the aliens took notice of her at last. Their squabbling trailed off and they merely gawked at her, apparently as uncertain of how to react to her presence as she was of theirs. They tensed, but no one reached for a weapon. Yet.

  Teluria summoned up her dignity, pulled her red robes tightly about herself, and strode forward. She raised a hand in greeting. “Welcome to the Golden City,” she called to them as she approached. “Might I ask—how do you come to be here?”

  The four males stared back at her, dumbstruck. The female, who quickly made it clear that she was the leader, stood straighter and nodded her head respectfully. “I am Co-Commander Mirana. We apologize for trespassing,” she said. “We—we may have been misled.”

  “About a great many things,” one of the warriors behind the leader added, anger apparent in his tone.

  “I…see,” Teluria replied. She glanced over at the body of the sixth Dyonari, another female, lying on her back off to one side. “Is she—?”

  “Dead,” the leader said. “Yes.” Her expression was bitter. “She was Madalena. She was my friend. My comrade. My co-commander of this mission.”

  Teluria nodded. She looked about, growing concerned. Was some sort of wild predator loose—here in the city of dreams? “What killed her?” she asked them.

  “We did,” one of the male warriors answered. His voice was as bitter as the look on his leader’s face. “We all did.”

  Teluria couldn’t help backing up a step at that. She considered her next words carefully. She started to ask why they had killed the other woman, but decided it wasn’t the main thing she needed to know at the moment. Instead, she asked, “Why are you here?”

  The five aliens glanced at one another nervously. Then the leader said, “We were ordered to come. It was our mission.”

  “More than that,” the male warrior who had spoken up before said. He stepped forward aggressively, but toward the leader, not toward Teluria. “It was programming—put into our heads, as if we were robots,” he all-but-shouted. “Tools to be used and discarded.” His lips curled into a scowl. “And to what end? To destroy our own galaxy!”

  “Vinizan!” The leader whirled at him admonishingly, but it was too late. The truth was out.

  Teluria gasped. “Ah! Yes—of course. This had to be where the energy was coming from. The Fountain. It had to be.”

  As the male warrior—Vinizan—had moved forward, something behind him had become visible; something the others had been standing in front of, blocking Teluria’s view. N
ow she rushed forward and saw it: a cube, constructed of some transparent material, with a parabolic dish at its top, aimed at the sky. A cable of some sort trailed from it over the edge of the basin, down into the cosmic “waters.” Everything clicked into place for Teluria now and she moved backwards, getting away from them quickly, her expression one of near-horror.

  “No—wait,” the leader cried, her voice pleading. “We didn’t know—didn’t understand what we were doing. The seers—the seers controlled us. Forced us to do things completely against our will.”

  “The Dyonari seers?”

  “Yes!”

  Teluria nodded. That made perfect sense to her. “Which Star-City?”

  Mirana hesitated, now appearing truly frightened for the first time.

  Teluria stepped forward and raised her hands high. Lightning flared around her. “Tell me!” she commanded. “Or I swear none of you will leave this city alive.”

  “Dalen-Shala,” the one called Vinizan blurted.

  The leader whirled on him, angry. “Why would you tell her the name of our home?”

  He merely shrugged. “The seers brought all of this about. They deserve whatever fate befalls them. Besides,” he added, “aren’t they both dead now?”

  Mirana started to offer stern reproach, but then appeared to lose heart. She deflated and simply lowered herself to the ground, sitting there glumly, her chin in her hands. “I wash my hands of all of this,” she muttered. “Had I truly understood what we were doing, I never would have obeyed the orders to come.” She hesitated, then added bitterly, “That is, if I’d been given a choice to begin with.”

  Teluria gazed down at her, weighing her words. She started to reply but never got the chance, for at that moment a loud, powerful, booming voice echoed across the plaza. It was one Teluria had not heard in many, many years, yet she recognized it instantly. It held intensity and force yet was at the same time feminine and attractive. She turned and saw precisely what she expected to see: a vision in silver and black, advancing across the plaza like a juggernaut.

  “Teluria,” the newcomer boomed. “Tell me what is happening here. Now.”

  Teluria bowed her head quickly. “My lady Karilyne,” she said to the vision in gleaming armor. “I am pleased to see you once again.”

  “Now,” Karilyne repeated. Her voice had shattered armies and sent stout warriors cowering at their mothers’ aprons. Her sword and her axe were swift and powerful and renowned throughout the cosmos. Her only superior in combat—and also her former lover—Baranak, god of battle, was long dead. Now no one challenged her—particularly when she was aroused with wrath and fury.

  The Dyonari all took a knee and bowed their heads. The reputation of the ice queen reached even to the star-cities of the path-walkers.

  “We came here under duress, great Karilyne,” Mirana said quickly. “But we accept responsibility for our actions.”

  Karilyne frowned and looked to Teluria. “Explain,” she said.

  Teluria did, and quickly.

  At the end of the story, Karilyne pursed her lips as her gaze shifted from the Dyonari to Teluria and back. She shook her head slowly. “A sordid tale,” she muttered, “and one of great hubris—and great transgression.”

  The Dyonari kept their heads bowed and none of them responded to that.

  Karilyne thought for another moment, then strode across to the cube the aliens had constructed. She raised her axe and swept it across in a single broad, powerful stroke. The cube shattered into a million fragments. Teluria had to leap back as shrapnel from it flew in every direction.

  The ice goddess turned back to the Dyonari. The males were practically cringing now, but the leader, Mirana, dared raise her head and stare back up at her.

  “I will not flinch from your gaze, great Karilyne,” Mirana said in a strong, clear voice. “I know full well the nature and the depth of my transgressions, whether performed willingly or not. I accept whatever punishment you see fit to mete out.” She exhaled slowly. “I deserve far worse than you could ever do to me.”

  Karilyne stared back into those dark, alien eyes for a moment, as Teluria held her breath. The goddess in red expected the axe to come around again at any moment.

  It did not.

  “You four,” Karilyne barked at the males. “Go. Go now.”

  They looked up at her hesitantly. “Go?” one of them asked, his voice tremulous. “Go where?”

  “What care I where?” Karilyne snapped back, her eyes burning with fury. “Find your own way home. If you can.”

  The Dyonari hesitated for only half a heartbeat after that. Then they leapt to their feet and ran for the gates. Karilyne didn’t bother to watch them go.

  Mirana did. She watched them as they fled, then looked back at the goddess in silver and black. “What of me?” she asked in a voice thin and weary with regret and pain.

  Karilyne regarded her for another few seconds in silence. Then, “Get up,” she ordered—but this time her voice had softened somewhat. “Come with me.”

  Hesitantly the Dyonari woman rose and stood next to Karilyne. “What would you have of me, my lady?”

  “You have been torn down to your depths. Your will has been broken.” She smiled grimly. “You have become raw material that may be shaped into something colder, harder. Better.” She glanced at Teluria, who wisely looked away. “And I am an excellent sculptor,” she added.

  With that, Karilyne turned and strode back toward the gates. She didn’t look to see if Mirana was following her. She knew it—and indeed she was.

  Before they passed out of the plaza, Karilyne turned back and looked at Teluria. “Oh—and what of you?” she asked, her voice casual now. “Will you remain here, and reign over a kingdom comprised entirely of yourself?”

  Teluria laughed at that. “I am not the god of evil,” she said. “But I do have a purpose now, at least for the moment.”

  Karilyne continued to stare back at her, waiting.

  “The Dalen-Shala Star-City,” she said. “It seems I have business there.” She offered the other goddess a wry half-smile. “Feigning death is an old trick among the Dyonari elders. We shall see what the truth is.”

  Karilyne absorbed this and considered it for a moment. Then, as she understood, she smiled—and her smile was a fearsome thing indeed. “I approve,” she said. “Let justice be done.”

  With that, Karilyne and Mirana exited the plaza and the Golden City itself, bound for wherever the ice queen abided in these latter days.

  Teluria waited a few minutes and then followed along the same path that led out of the city. As soon as she was far enough away, she opened a portal and stepped through.

  The bridge of the Ascanius greeted her.

  2

  Reality tore itself asunder and out stepped a woman clad in black. An army followed behind her. She raised her hands and both she and the army vanished.

  The seers of Dalen-Shala, seated there in their smoky chamber deep within that vast Star-City, did not react to this strange development at all at first. Perhaps each of the two believed they had only imagined such a bizarre, unprecedented thing happening. But when they each glanced at one another, frowning, the message was clear: “You saw something.”

  The First Seer sent a frantic mental signal to the warriors who perpetually guarded the doors leading into their chambers. He managed only a few unintelligible syllables, however, before invisible hands grasped him and dragged him to his feet. A moment later he saw the same thing happening to his counterpart.

  The guards, alerted by the aborted call for help, opened the door and started in. Instantly energy weapons fire and projectiles erupted out of nowhere, smashing into the guards and driving them back.

  Both of the seers, meanwhile, were pulled bodily across the chamber. Each started to object, to cry out with actual voices, but it was too late. Strong, powerful, and entirely unseen arms lifted them both and threw them through the portal. They tumbled through darkness streaked with light, lande
d hard, and rolled to a stop against one another in a heap.

  “What—who—?”

  Behind them the portal vanished, closed, and at least a dozen human soldiers in red uniforms appeared as if from nowhere.

  “Welcome to the Ascanius, gentlemen,” came a human voice from in front of them. “I would ask that you not attempt any mental tricks for the next few moments, as you are being closely monitored and any such efforts will be detected and punished.”

  Slowly managing to right themselves and sit up, their aged bodies protesting all the while, they stared up into the face of a black-haired man clad in a dark red uniform. Beside him was the woman in black—the one they had seen only briefly before she had somehow caused herself and the soldiers with her to vanish.

  The man in red raised both hands, palms facing upward, and fire sprang from them. The flames danced there as he stared down at them. “My name is General Ezekial Tamerlane,” he told them. “This is Sister Delain of the Holy Inquisition.” His eyes moved from one of them to the other. “You have been brought here to answer for your crimes.”

  “Our…crimes?” the First Seer croaked, relying on his spoken voice. “What crimes?”

  “Galactic genocide,” came a female voice from off to one side.

  They turned as one and beheld a goddess. It was Teluria of the Golden City. They knew her instantly. They bowed their heads.

  “You are accused of the attempted murder of the sentient population of the galaxy,” General Tamerlane continued.

  “Only ‘attempted’ at this moment in time,” said Sister Delain. “Remember, General—for all we know, they yet succeeded, at some point in the future.”

  Tamerlane nodded.

  “I also hold you directly responsible for the death of a certain Dyonari,” Teluria added.

  The two seers both frowned at this. “What?” asked the first.