by Chris Harris
“That's a Xaosian.” Emola observed.
“Not any Xaosian.” Pandora pointed at the screen. “Look; the golden patterning on his seat; that is Lord Xaos.”
The image opened its mouth and began to speak. “I do not need to fire upon your ships.” The voice echoed from every screen and every speaker in the fleet. “I do not need to board your ships; I am one with them now. Comply, and you shall be saved. Failure to do so will result in just one of a number of excruciatingly painful deaths. Shall I turn off the oxygen? Open the airlocks? Or simply let your ship fall apart?”
Shouting could be heard, yelling and screaming. Footsteps, slow and fast. Tors looked out of the window again and saw a Titan-Class Xaosian battleship approaching. One of the fleet's ships fired upon it, barely missing only when the Titan swerved away and shot the missile down itself.
The evacuation ship exploded.
Occupants drifted out as airlocks opened. Tors could not see them, but he could imagine them clinging to their throats as tightly as they clung to their very last breath. Another of the fleet then opened fire on the dying ship, tearing it apart to finish off any survivors.
“I warned you.” The voice echoed again, louder than before. “I do not want to kill you all; that would be a waste. Now surrender. Power down your engines willingly, or I shall do so for you.”
Tors felt the ship stop abruptly, nearly knocking him off his feet. He gave an involuntary smile as Emola stumbled and fell to the ground, before he stood, swearing under his breath. The other ships also stopped in quick succession.
More Titan's emerged from the darkness of space and docked with all eight remaining ships. The cabin doors hissed closed and locked automatically as the Xaosians stormed the ships, forcefully relieving the captains of their duties.
Tors looked around at the others, who all looked as frightened as he felt. He sat back down, and reclaimed his corner. The other three did the same, and, when the Xaosians started the ships again, carried out the rest of the journey in silence.
Chapter 27
Devilclash 3
The hive was unsettled, and it had every right to be, as Devilclash drudged her way through the swamps of Proda. She ached everywhere; something she hadn't thought possible, but she thanked her bugs for it; the crash-landing down onto Buun could have been much worse. Her hive had only just finished metamorphosing back from their defensive rocky forms, a transformation that is almost instantaneous and painless when turning to stone, but the complete opposite when turning back.
She hadn't been prepared for an Adjeti, she knew that. Especially not Otor. A quick scan of the few Adjeti-related memories available in the Swarm revealed that he was one of the eighteen Adjeti Warchiefs; highly trained warrior-kings who dominated the battlefield; must have got rusty in his old age, Devilclash observed. Unless, she later thought, he wanted them to underestimate their true power.
Proda was not, as one may think, a city. Proda is, in fact, just one of many Biomes that the Pyrkagia have seen fit to divide their world up into. Proda was the swamplands in the East of the continent Gyrara, unfortunately far away from the Primary's body. Luckily for Devilclash, there was a direct Tertiary Pyrkagia in every Biome. While there was only one Primary, and one Secondary, there were hundreds of Tertiaries, acting more like com-devices than actual Pyrkagia.
She hoped one was close.
It felt close in the Swarm, but whether that was close in local, or planetary, terms, she had no idea. She just had to keep going. With all of her hive back to being bugs again, she took flight. The hive converged around the hive-stone and lifted it into the air, wings buzzing as they became a solid multi-part living cloud. Never going higher than the treetops, her movement was still restricted to the makeshift paths between them, but she could cover ground so much faster this way.
There was very little life on Buun besides the Pyrkagia; there was no need for it. The Pyrkagia were herbivores, and there was no lack of vegetation. All other life on Buun was unnecessary and hence removed; the ancient Pyrkagia attitude. Devilclash felt that the eradication of all that life was the greatest sin of her ancestors, and she silently and secretly despised the Primary for it.
The Primary was originally the very first Pyrkagias in existence, the one who gained intelligence and pulled all of the hives into his own larger Swarm. The Secondary, of course, was the second Pyrkagias that formed. The original Primary, however, died in the Adjeti war, and the current Primary was the original Secondary, ascending to the position after a period of great turmoil for the Pyrkagia, cut loose from their brethren.
She entered a clearing in the trees and let herself fall back to the ground; she was at the right place. The hive-stone was caught just before it hit the ground, and she reformed herself into her human form. While she felt none of the stigma of having a non-humanoid form when on Buun, she preferred it to her natural cloud-based cluster; it was more elegant. In the clearing, there were four stone columns arranged in a square pattern and, in the centre, a small stone seat.
She landed in front of the open temple and walked over to the seat, upon which sat a single hive-stone; that was all a tertiary was: a hive-stone used as a com to communicate directly with the Primary. She touched her hive-stone to the tertiary and delved into the Swarm.
She could see memories pass her by as she waited inside the Swarm for the Primary. Happy Pyrkagia passed her by, along with their sad moments, their most intimate moments, and their anger. She could feel anger throughout the Swarm; they had seen her memories of Otor already.
“I know why you're here, Devilclash.” The voice of the Primary came from all around her; to all intents and purposes, he was the Swarm. “And I've already taken measures.”
“Those measures may not be enough.” Devilclash could not put emotion into her speech inside the Swarm, but she felt desperate to get her point across. “The Adjeti said that there are more; that his race will be restored!”
“And implied that Oblivion was not destroyed, yes. I heard it all. It is entirely possible that we failed in destroying Oblivion and their race. Unlikely, but possible; we and Ardican fired the World-Burner through the Oblivion Gate, their portal. A portal which we have no idea how to work.”
Intrigued, Devilclash asked, “What are your measures, then? And we weren't on the World-Burner, were we?”
“Don't believe the tales that humans tell; of that day, they say what we wanted them to. The downfall of the Adjeti was our grand undertaking, and that's all I will say about it. My measures; a single surveillance ship. Until we find out what is happening, we cannot stage a slaughter of them yet. And you, for all your interest, shall lead it. A ship will be dispatched to you.”
Devilclash felt herself pushed from the Swarm and felt herself reel at what she had learnt; what else had the Pyrkagia done that the Primary had covered up?
Chapter 28
Otor 1
After centuries of persecution, Otor felt old. Constant fleeing from town to city, city to town took more than a lifetime of energy from him. Hiding in the shadows left his joints ache from the hours of staying still, and the constant fear of discovery left his nerves broken. In all the centuries since he saved Oblivion, he found himself stranded on Xaos, the first place his escape capsule took him. Stealing food in a dull-brown shroud helped him blend into the the slums of the cities, but wherever he went, soon enough an angry mob showed up. Flames held on archaic wooden torches: apparently a source of fear, but Otor never understood; if you're going to attack in the night, why bring a light along? It just gives the enemy an advantage that it wouldn't have otherwise. Otor, however, wasn't going to complain; the light granted by fire had saved him more than once.
But, he reflected as his ship reached its destination, it took only one screw-up to get captured. Go down one damn alleyway, and there was a Xaosian Soldier troupe waiting. By the time they hauled him to the capital, Otor had resigned himself to his fate; he had nothing to lose. But instead of going to the c
hopping block, he was taken to Lord Xaos instead.
His ship docked, and he stood up ready to exit. Touching his eye, he found it sensitive to the touch, but fine other than that. The airlock opened, and Otor stepped out of his ship and into the hangar bay of The Dominion. Xaosians, like insects, were already swarming the smaller craft, greeting the returned. Otor ignored them; he had no time for the insignificant. He jogged through the vast ship, ignoring the Xaosians who stopped to stare, or those who hurled abuse at him; not all of them agreed with him being allowed to live, even if he was bringing a huge advantage to their side.
Xaos's chambers were guarded by two large Xaosians, who each wielded a ceremonial halberd. “Move.” Otor commanded. “I need to see Lord Xaos immediately.”
One Xaosian looked at him suspiciously and raised the halberd slightly, before the other stopped him. “Of course,” said the Xaosian, gently holding the other's halberd back, “no worries.”
Otor thanked them both, giving the opposer a glare as he went past. As the doors to Xaos's chambers closed behind him, he heard the two arguing in hushed tones. He smiled.
“Otor.” Xaos sat behind a desk in his twin-parabola-styled throne. “It seems you kept up your end of the bargain, just as I have kept mine. Thank you.”
Otor suddenly remembered to kneel; they had taught him with pain. “And thank you my lord.”
“Stand, Otor.” Otor obliged as Xaos continued. “It is time for the second part of our bargain.” Xaos tilted his head slightly. “You can deliver, can't you?”
“Yes.” Otor thought it was obvious; Xaos had spared his life for two services; killing the Lord, and gathering him an army. “Once I get to the Oblivion Gate, I can save my race, and you will get your army.”
Xaos smiled. “Good.” He stood, and extended a hand to Otor.
Otor took the hand, but noticed something silver and unfamiliar in Xaos's ear. He pointed at it. “What's that?”
Xaos slapped his hand down. “None of your concern. We tried your weapon, though. The Earth-Scorcher.”
Otor was filled with sudden dread; he had built it for them, but he never expected them to use it; obviously he had underestimated Xaos. “Where did you use it?”
“Raan,” Xaos grinned, “right on the Sea of Oil.”
“And the damage?”
“Quakes across the entire world began after the flames reached the core.”
Otor grimaced; he couldn't give anything away to this maniac. He nodded forcefully. “Now get me to the Oblivion Gateway. Where are you headed?”
“I will send you to the Oblivion Gateway with a fleet of Titans.” Xaos seemed unsure. “As for my next move; I must deal with the situation with the Narcsia survivors. Then, I will move on New Orbus.”
Otor nodded; now he knew exactly where to find Xaos. “Good. Get me a crew. I will be waiting in hangar bay.” Without waiting for a response, he left the room, noticing the glare from one of the guards outside the door.
As he went round the corner, Otor stopped and leant against a wall, head in hand; Xaos had used the Earth-Scorcher, something Otor never imagined he would actually do. Swearing to himself, he remembered as the Xaosians used the pain inducers to force him to build the weapon. He remembered the testing on one of Xaos's moons, the chaos it had wreaked. And he used it on the one planet he should not have; Raan. The prison world for the Corlens, the Adjeti had battled them for decades in a war that felt like a bloody stalemate, until finally, the Adjeti gained an upper hand and drove them into the core of Raan.
Otor shook his head and continued to the hangar bay; When I restore my race, I will kill Xaos first.
*
The Titan on which Otor travelled reached the Oblivion Gateway much quicker than he expected; space travel had improved dramatically since he was last able to use it, and this left him in awe of the adoption and evolution of technology. From the AIs controlling and regulating the life-support and gravity systems, to the upgraded L-Drives, Otor respected those who took the technology given to them by the Adjeti, and built upon it. Upon realising these advancements, he couldn't help but feel excitement to see how the Adjeti had upgraded their own technology.
The Oblivion Gateway. Otor could see it now as the Titan stopped next to it. A giant metal octagonal ring which free-floated in space, surrounding a shimmering black surface, which stood out from the rest of space due to its depthlessness. There was one single operating station, and that was where Otor had to go.
A Xaosian by the name of Guran helped Otor into a spacesuit. Otor liked Guran; the young Xaosian seemed to be fascinated with the Adjeti and, while Otor sometimes found his persistent questioning irritating, he was pleased that someone seemed to think that the Adjeti were heroes, even questioning the nature of the attack on Orbus, which the Adjeti were blamed for. Apparently, many scholars also questioned it, but Otor didn't give a damn about them; Guran was a nice guy, and one was of the few Xaosians Otor had no quarrel with.
With the spacesuit on, Guran wished him luck, which Otor accepted. The airlock opened and Otor swam out, getting used to the sensation once more. He pushed himself over to the operations platform, and imagined a clang as his feet touched down. Pulling off the glove on his suit, he pressed his palm to the control panel; only Adjeti could use the Gateway's controls due to the DNA recognition.
The Oblivion Gateway was, essentially, a portal to the space near Oblivion, which resided in an different solar system to the rest of the Empire. It worked by sending whatever entered it to the coordinates programmed into the Gateway. However, an unfortunate oversight left the coordinate panels working on only one side of the portal, cutting Oblivion off from the rest of the Empire, after Otor himself changed the coordinates to save his world from the World-Burner. The World-Burner was fired into the Oblivion Gate in retaliation for the supposed Adjeti attack on Orbus, presumably decimating Oblivion.
However, the portal actually led to a long-dead world, where it was the safe for the World-Burner to be fired, saving Oblivion. The screen in front of him flashed on, and he changed the coordinates of the portal; he remembered them exactly after all these years. The shimmering darkness disappeared just for a moment, before it returned once more. Otor leapt off the platform and swam back to his ship. As he arrived, he couldn't help but smile as he pulled off the spacesuit and the ship sped through the portal.
A darkness surrounded the ship and Otor could feel his fellow passengers' fear; they didn't trust him at the best of times, and especially not now with their lives in his hands. A few minutes of tension followed before they emerged out of the darkness.
Satellites were strewn around the space around the golden orb that was, as Otor recognised it, home. Using the screens, he zoomed in on the planet and saw ships and aerospace vehicles flitting about in heavily-urbanised areas.
Oblivion was alive.
Chapter 29
Devilclash 4
The Hive-Ship was much more spacious than necessary; the original Hive-Ships were just large enough for 5 Hive-Stones in the main ship body, and the rest of the bugs were in a containment chamber behind it. Now, they were roughly the same size as any small human transport ship. However, unlike other transport ships, this Hive-Ship was simply one large room, with the pilot at the front, and the other two Pyrkagia wandering around in front of Devilclash in silence; fear was a great silencer.
“Are we close now?” Devilclash broke the silence.
The pilot, Pyrious, turned to her and simply said “yes”, before turning back away again. He was never one for conversation.
“How much further?” The gruff voice of Amnich blared out, sounding annoyed at the pilot.
“A couple of minutes, if that.” Pyrious too seemed annoyed, but at the questions.
Devilclash despised most other Pyrkagia; on the surface, they seemed too shallow, emotionless. While she knew that they weren't like that on the inside, she couldn't help but feel a growing distance from them as she further integrated herself into the
human-dominated society on New Orbus. She assumed that humans must see her as she sees the rest of her kind, but her hatred now stemmed beyond that; they brought about the downfall of a race, and she still had no idea how. When she had first heard what the Primary had said, she assumed that it was just firing the World-Burner at Oblivion. But his tone, and his phrasing, implied that they had done more to influence events; what else had they covered up in the locked-away sections of the Swarm. She hated the lies; they pained her like a knife twisting in her Hive-Stone.
“There's a ship there!” Pyrious's surprise pierced her thoughts, and she jolted to attention.
“What type of ship?” Amnich walked up to the pilot, as did Devilclash.
“Titan-Class, Xaosian.” Pyrious was back to business.
“Stay back.” Devilclash ordered. “The Adjeti I encountered is almost certainly on that ship.”
The screen in front of the pilot zoomed in on the Oblivion Gateway, as he ran his hand over an embedded sphere in the control panel. “There.” The other Pyrkagia, Lutun, pointed at the screen. Devilclash looked closer and saw what she had feared; Otor, and he was inputting codes into the Gateway.
“Kill them.” Devilclash ordered. “Now!”
“No,” Amnich commanded, “we have our orders; we follow them to Oblivion. If there is any foul play, it seems to be being undone right there.” The Gateway shimmered, and Otor went back into the ship. “Continue towards them. Follow them through the portal.”
The Titan disappeared into the portal, and the Hive-Ship followed slowly behind. They travelled in silence, as if the smallest sound could give away their position. Devilclash watched as the stars disappeared when they entered the portal. The darkness, while it should be fear-inducing, was actually quite beautiful in a strange way. Perhaps it was the shimmering nature of it, or the fact that it vaguely reflected the Hive-Ship's light. Through the Swarm, Devilclash could sense that Amnich, despite his brave front, was just as afraid as Lutun. Surprisingly, Pyrious felt the same as her about the darkness; he just stared out the front window at it, encapsulated by its random movements and ripples.
The darkness cleared to reveal Oblivion.
