Cade studied Percival and couldn’t help but feel a strange sort of pity for him. He had no idea what he’d endured in his years waging more or less a one-man war against the Praxis kingdom. Sure, Cade had brought the fight to Praxis, but he was one in a unit. Percival was one man on an island, exiled and presumed dead. In some ways, they weren’t all that different. If nothing else, they had the Rokura and the misery it caused both of them in common. After all, one thing they understood about each other was the trauma the weapon inflicted on everything, not to mention the profound burden it levied on its wielder. Even though Cade didn’t know who Percival was before he’d yanked the Rokura out of its stasis, he was certain he wasn’t the man he was now. He couldn’t be. And for all his grit, determination, and ferocity, deep down, Percival was lost. The Rokura had robbed him of who he once was, gutting everything he knew—namely, that he was born to do something noble with a noble tool—and insinuating a reality that was nowhere close to the fantasy he’d been sold. Cade didn’t like how Percival treated him—keeping him at arm’s distance, testing him at every turn—but he understood it was all for the purpose of protecting both Cade and himself. They might be the best people in the galaxy to act as the Rokura’s proxy, but that didn’t mean either one of them was properly equipped for the task.
“How do you know all this stuff about Wu-Xia?” Cade asked, careful that his tone conveyed curiosity and not doubt. “I mean … who even knows anything about him anymore?”
Percival smirked, gathering himself. “The galaxy’s a lot smaller when everyone thinks you’re dead. After everything that happened in the spire with Ga Halle, the Rokura, and me, I ran. I was terrified by the idea that someone was going to drag me back and force me to use that weapon. I didn’t sleep for weeks; I feared what would happen if I let my guard down for even a second. But eventually, I realized no one was looking for me, that the Well was so concerned with hiding their shame that they were more than happy to let Ga Halle and me both fade into obscurity. Obviously, only one of us made good on their wish.
“Once I stopped looking behind me, I started looking ahead. And when all the pity washed away, I found myself angry. Very angry. The Rokura was supposed to be my birthright, an extension of everything I was down to my very core. What did it mean that I was repulsed by it? Was there something about me that made the Rokura act the way it did in my possession? Not knowing ate away at me. I had to understand what went wrong, and that meant that I had to find the truth. Remember, Wu-Xia was just a man. He lived, he breathed, he died. What I wanted to know is what he did in the spaces between—who he really was and how he became a myth. That is the journey I went on.
“For years, I traveled the galaxy, following any mentions of Wu-Xia wherever they took me. And my mission did indeed take me to some interesting places. Folklore, myth, legends—those I encountered in abundance. But eventually, I found what I was looking for. I found answers.”
Cade studied Percival as he worked the ship’s controls. “Found answers where?” he warily asked.
Percival looked back at Cade as he manually switched off the mass-jump drive. “Here,” he said.
Suddenly, the Rubicon halted in its jump and snapped backward like a taut rubber band released. Once Cade straightened himself in his seat, he looked outside the cloudy viewport and couldn’t believe his eyes. There, floating beneath a layer of fog that glowed purple and maroon, was a celestial body that had erupted from the inside out. At least, that was the legend as Cade knew it. And yet, despite the cataclysmic damage it’d endured, the planet hadn’t been destroyed. Not entirely, at least. A gaping hole was punctured through the surface all the way to the planet’s core, and everything that’d erupted out was now caught in its orbit; a veritable asteroid belt encircled the planet, cutting through the misty haze surrounding it. It was a sight that defied the laws of the galaxy, and it certainly defied everything Cade had been led to believe. He was beginning to think this wasn’t the only legend soon to be shattered.
“Is that really—” Cade stammered, still unable to grasp what his own two eyes were seeing. “It can’t be.”
“The Ruined Empire of Monaskis,” Percival said. “It is.”
“But … it was ruined. It’s in the title.”
“Yet here we are.”
“Here we are,” Cade whispered. He’d always known about the legendary empire of Monaskis, especially the legend part. Growing up on Kyysring, every cheap hustler, every hapless smuggler, every wannabe pirate boasted about all the riches to be found there and how they had in their possession a map that would take them to this supposed paradise. And every year, those same lowlifes were kicking around the streets of Kyysring, as broke as they were the year before. But the official story behind Monaskis, the one they’d written in the history archives, was that Monaskis was defeated in the Great War by Wu-Xia himself. The Monaskin people celebrated a culture driven by war and conquest, and the mark they left on the galaxy, dating back centuries, was an unpleasant one. Pillaging, conquering, and slaughtering were just a few of the empire’s favorite pastimes. Thinking of that, it all clicked into place in Cade’s mind. The legend, their mission, what Percival had told him about Wu-Xia. It added up to one thing:
“This is where Wu-Xia is really from,” Cade said.
“It is. He may have decimated the planet for its atrocities, but he couldn’t destroy his past. Not completely.”
“But if he was this brutal warlord, why the about-face? Why would he make the Rokura and dedicate himself to bringing peace to the galaxy? And did peace really mean,” Cade said, gesturing to what was left of Monaskis, “that?”
“Those are good questions, and I’ve often pondered the answers myself. Unfortunately,” Percival said, taking the ship’s stick and bringing them toward the planet, “I’ve never been able to discover the finer details of Wu-Xia’s life. But that’s what we’re about to discover.”
“Whoa. Whoawhoawhoawhoawhoa,” Cade said as he took Percival’s hand off the stick. “Wait. If you don’t have the answers, that means you’ve never been to Monaskis. Have you? And by the way, your answer had better be ‘I have; they’re expecting us.’”
“I’ve never been any closer to Monaskis than we are right now,” Percival coolly said. “There’s a reason our mass jumps and our coordinates have been off, same as there’s a reason I manually pulled us out of our last mass jump. We’re bordering dark space, Cade. Things don’t follow the same principles here as they do where we’re from. Monaskis stays hidden that way, and anyone who finds it or stumbles upon it doesn’t live to tell people what they’ve discovered.”
Cade squinted and shook his head; it hurt his brain to try to make sense of what Percival was telling him. “So … what are we doing then? We didn’t come all this way for the novelty of having an ancient civilization kill us, did we?”
“Only one person, and one person alone, is permitted to land on Monaskis.”
“Don’t even tell me. Don’t even say it.”
“The Paragon.”
Cade flung his hands in the air. “Great. Terrific. I hope you know where the Paragon is!”
Percival smiled at Cade and grasped his shoulder. “He’s you. Or at least you’re the closest thing there is.”
“No,” Cade said, firm in his rejection.
“Listen, I know this is risky, I know it’s dangerous, but it’s the only chance we’ve got. All we have to do is flash the Rokura as proof of who you are. Then we learn Wu-Xia’s history, his real history. If we can find out how and why he forged the Rokura, we can better understand what this thing is and have a shot at using it to win this war.”
Percival swiveled his chair away from Cade and retook the stick. This time, Cade didn’t interfere. He slumped in his chair, knowing that even if he thought Percival was wrong, there was no turning back anyway. As Percival put them on a landing vector, Cade had only one thing to say:
“We’re gonna die.”
* * *
Static.
Every channel, every frequency. Percival had parked their ship so they were looking directly into the cavernous maw of the planet. Through Monaskis’s orbiting remains and the mist that was so thick it seemed viscous, Cade couldn’t discern any finer details of the surface. Just darkness, and Cade found it hard to imagine who could possibly inhabit this planet. Judging by Percival’s repeated failed attempts to elicit any kind of response through the comms, Cade started to think that the planet—despite what Percival had been led to believe—was desolate.
“Rubicon-1 to Monaskis surface, do you read?” Percival said into the comms for what felt to Cade like the millionth time. “Do you copy?”
“There’s no one here, Percival,” Cade said. “We’re wasting our time.”
Percival shook his head, rejecting Cade’s sound conclusion. “No, they’re there. It’s just a matter of reaching them. It’s just a matter—” Percival perked up his head, and his face brightened.
“It’s just a matter of what?” Cade asked as he watched Percival open the entire array of comms channels. Normally, that was a bad idea. A very bad idea, because you never knew who was listening. But considering that they were literally on the dark side of the galaxy, Cade figured there was no harm in blasting a message into the void.
“Of saying the right thing,” Percival responded, a clever smile on his face. He turned to his comms and continued. “Monaskis surface, this is the vessel that you have no doubt detected on your radars. I am requesting permission to land and to land safely. I have the Paragon on board,” Percival declared, and Cade leapt out of his seat.
“Why would you—don’t say that!” he yelled.
Percival waved him off, then said it again.
“I repeat, I have the Paragon on board.”
Cade couldn’t decide if he should knock out the comms or knock out Percival. Both seemed like reasonable things to do.
“You said it again!” Cade said, already feeling the weight of the target Percival had just affixed to his back. Sure, he assumed no one was listening on Monaskis or from anywhere close enough to be in comms range, but on the off chance there was someone out there, Percival had just revealed the galaxy’s most lucrative bounty and given up their location in one big, dumb swoop.
“Someone’s there, and they need to be compelled to open the door for us,” Percival said matter-of-factly, making Cade even madder.
“And did you ever think that this someone might now be compelled to open this door so they can murder us both and collect the cargo-load of coin Praxis has on our heads?”
“Yes,” Percival said. “That did cross my mind. But the risk is worth it, and we can handle ourselves if need be.”
Cade fumed, and he was about to explain to Percival what he could do to himself when a blinding white light scorched the entire cockpit. Cade closed his eyes and turned away, but the light receded from the ship as quickly as it had burst inside. Its effects, though, lingered. Cade turned to find the ship’s systems going haywire, everything from its mass-jump drive to its shields flickering between being off- and online. The overhead lights surged so brightly Cade expected them to pop, but right when they hit their maximum threshold, they went soft, only to surge again. Cade’s frustration from a moment earlier suddenly seemed trivial compared to the uneasiness he was experiencing now.
“Percival, what have you gotten us into?”
Like Cade, Percival was scanning the cockpit with his hands held close to his body, afraid to touch anything. “I have no idea,” he said. “But look.”
Percival pointed through the cockpit window. There, through the mist, Cade saw a double row of fiery yellow lights burning near the Monaskis surface. There were at least twenty beacons in total, ten on each side, and they blinked in unison, maintaining a steady, hypnotic rhythm. Cade followed the lights as best as he could to their ending point; as far as he could tell, they only led deeper into the planet’s darkness.
“We should follow them,” Percival said.
“Something tells me we really don’t have a choice,” Cade said.
Guiding the ship despite its diminished capacity, Percival navigated them around the asteroid field and then punched through the mist. Beyond those obstacles, the guiding lights that rose out of the ground on massive pedestals of rock shone with more clarity. Under Percival’s eager hand, the Rubicon cut through the miles to the guiding lights, but Cade wasn’t so sure about their journey. Especially when he saw where it led.
At the end of the line, Cade spotted a blue, shimmering wall. It stretched to cover the entirety of a gaping chasm that separated the planet’s exposed crust they’d been flying over.
“That’s a shield,” Cade said, his tone wavering somewhere between wonder and terror.
“It is,” Percival agreed. “They must be leading us inside.”
“Inside … the planet?”
Percival looked at Cade and took a deep breath before accelerating toward the shield. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my travels,” Percival said, aligning the ship with the barrier ahead of them, “it’s that the galaxy is filled with mysteries.”
And with that, the shield disappeared, and the Rubicon flew inside the Ruined Empire of Monaskis.
* * *
The breadth of the world within the Monaskin core was unimaginable. The walls were a deep ruby red, veined by streaks of gray that looked like lightning breaking across a bloody sky. Lights like the ones Cade and Percival had encountered leading to this place jutted out from innumerable points, and Percival followed their path down and deeper into the planet. The lights revealed sentry post after sentry post dug into the rock wall, each manned by a team of guards armed with impossibly large blasters that had electrosaws affixed to them. The guards glowered at the ship as it passed, helping to balance Cade’s feeling of awe with a dose of disquiet. He didn’t know where he was headed, and it was very much looking like whoever was leading him there held an impossible advantage. The shield, the guards, and who knew what other surprises lying in wait all spelled one thing: Should things go bad, there’d be no escape. Cade knew he had to succeed in whatever he was supposed to do, or he’d die a long, long way from home.
Percival guided the ship slowly through the heavily fortified artery and into what seemed to be the heart of the Monaskin interior. As they proceeded, Cade began noticing flakes of gray and red wafting around the ship. It was ash, and Cade could only assume that the planet’s topography was still suffering the consequences of Wu-Xia’s destruction.
After passing through a brief, narrow canyon, the world opened up so big, so wide, that Cade nearly caught vertigo looking at it. Cade gasped. “How is this even possible?”
“I don’t know,” Percival murmured from over Cade’s shoulder. “I really don’t know.”
There was no telling how massive the clandestine Monaskin civilization was. Cade’s eyes followed the rock walls up and then down, trying to get a sense of how high and low they reached, but distance and fluttering ash obscured any telling detail before Cade could reach a conclusion. And like the sentry posts, countless structures were carved into the dark red walls, their purposes unclear. Cade thought he could discern what looked like storefronts and a few family homes, all tarnished by the falling ash—each unit was accessible to the others by small vessels, like open-air elevators, that ran horizontally and vertically across the rock face. It was a metropolis in miniature, and the sight of so many crafts traveling in every direction over such an immense space was dizzying. Still, Cade marveled at the system’s chaotic efficiency. He was so caught up that he failed to see what was materializing in front of the ship.
“Cade,” Percival said, tugging Cade’s sleeve. “You might want to see this.”
Peeling his gaze away from the strange world unfolding along the Rubicon’s starboard side, Cade was about to ask what he was supposed to be looking at, but there was no need; he knew the moment he turned around.
The ship was positioned on a slight downward trajectory,
and coming into view straight ahead and below them was an opulent, iridescent golden palace.
“Oh, man,” Cade said, astonished. “They have a castle?”
Percival was in awe. “It’s magnificent.”
A pair of deep-blue spires twisted their way skyward, framing a set of double doors that stood at least twenty feet high. An exterior wall made of alternating gold and blue columns was set in the rock, framing the door and ensuring its impenetrability. Golden, unblemished stairs led away from the doors to a long esplanade that stretched toward the center of the canyon and ended in a crescent shape that Cade took to be a landing pad. And all of it, every inch, was untouched by ash. Not a single speck tarnished the palace grounds.
Guards were stationed from the pad all the way to the palace, two single-file rows of armed sentries mirroring one another. Cade wondered if the Monaskins always maintained this kind of vigilance. If so, it was a tad much.
“I’m guessing this is where they want us to go,” Percival said, bringing the ship down toward the landing pad.
“Why aren’t they saying anything on the comms?” Cade asked. “You’d figure people this crazy about security would at least give clear directions.”
“Because they want to hold all the cards,” Percival said. “We have no idea what this place is or who’s behind those palace walls. Keeping us in the dark prevents us from taking any kind of action.”
“Or maybe they assume we’re stupid enough to lead ourselves into their trap.”
“The thought did cross my mind,” Percival said as he brought the ship down on the landing pad.
“Terrific,” Cade said as he strapped the Rokura to his back. “There’s not a whole lot of scenarios that don’t end in very bad things happening to us, are there?”
“Only one: You convince them you’re the Paragon, and out of reverence for Wu-Xia, they help us get the answers we need.”
Cade groaned. “Very bad things it is, then.”
We Are Mayhem--A Black Star Renegades Novel Page 11
