by Chris Harris
When Foton arrived at the lab, he found it quite plain and boring compared to the other buildings. Good; it makes it easier to navigate. Scaling the building with a pair of stat-mag gloves – static-magnetic; can attach to anything with a static charge – Foton broke in through an open window, climbing in silently. Instantly, he heard whistling, but he listened out for other voices. The whistling stopped, giving him a chance to hear footsteps as well. Unsurprisingly, Foton heard no other footsteps; no-one wanted to work this time of evening.
Walking into the corridor, Foton slowly made his way through the building and down the stairs. He could see Tujin now, too busy on a screen to notice. He was smaller in real-life than he'd looked on the picture Foton had seen, but everything else was pretty much spot-on.
Foton waited until he was near to his target, before standing up straight and putting his hidden-blade into a “ready” position. “Tujin Diank?” Foton continued walking towards him as he turned around.
“What do you want? Who are you?” Tujin stepped back, cowering as Foton got closer.
“Don't struggle.” Foton thrust the hidden-blade under Tujin's ribs, and up into his heart. Tujin slumped with a grunt, and Foton pulled the blade out, before wiping the blood on it onto Tujin's clothes. Carefully, Foton put a hand into his pocket and pulled out Blind Assassin's silver cube, placing it next to Tujin's bleeding corpse. A crackle of electricity flashed between the box and Tujin's implant, making Foton back away. They both flashed for a moment, before going back to being still. Foton looked at them suspiciously; there was more going on here than the Blind Assassin was letting on.
Chapter 39
Keinam 1
Engines roared as Keinam's Wing-Ship entered New Orbus's atmosphere. Scores of ships flew past him, both Adjeti and human. United in victory, none of the human craft fired upon the Adjeti's, which surprised Keinam; from what he remembered of the humans, they were a violent and primitive race. Evidently their desperation to win the battle had outweighed their aggressive natures. Keinam was glad that a couple of centuries had furthered their evolution.
He pulled the Wing-Ship down past the flaming city. As he rushed past, he could see fallen buildings and pillars of smoke, his Adjeti forces storming the streets and taking down the remaining Xaosians. From his perspective, it didn't look like there were many left, but the amount of Xaosian corpses was far less than civilian corpses. Keinam briefly considered mourning, before realising that no-one, none of them, would have ever mourned the Adjeti's loss. He may have saved them, but they would probably still persecute them. Otor's idea of peace with the humans here sounded nice, but it was just a fantasy; Keinam didn't trust them.
Ignoring the city for now, he steered his ship down to the surface and underneath New Orbus, landing on the firm stone of Orbus itself; as far as knew, no-one had been here since it was incinerated by the World-Burner. Keinam cursed under his breath; the Pyrkagia had used the Adjeti's weapon against Orbus, and everyone, understandably, assumed that it was the Adjeti. But no-one would listen to the Warchiefs' words, and the humans used the World-Burner against its creators. Or so they had thought.
Keinam smiled at the trickery he had orchestrated in order to save his world, his race. Yes, many died, and the uprisings on Oblivion were brutal and unnecessary, but were thousands died, millions remained; he had won. He hadn't yet lost a battle; he had been close many times, but he had always pulled through.
He exited his ship and put his ear to the ground, knocking on the stone. Not noticing out of the ordinary, he moved on a few standards, before repeating. This time, he noticed a different sound to the knuckles-on-stone; more like knuckles-on-metal. He moved a standard to the left, and knocked again: stone. Two standards right and he found a louder knock of metal, camouflaged as stone.
Smiling to himself, he donned his exoskeleton, feeling the warmth of the liquid bone flow over his body before solidifying. Both his actual bones and exoskeleton cracked as he twisted his hand into a blade form. It hurt at first, but when the blade was fully formed, the pain subsided. He plunged the blade into the metal beneath, a high-pitched scratch piercing his ears. He ignored it and persevered, cutting a hole in the camouflaged metal large enough for him to drop down.
He gripped the sides, and lowered himself in, then dropped. Feet hit the ground with a thud after a brief fall. Looking around, he saw wires lining the walls and he knew he was on track. He followed the wires as they grew ever-denser, letting him know he was on the right track.
Moving through the caves, he soon began to hear movement and a strange bubbling sound; could it be that someone had got here before him? The narrow caves began to grown wider, until it opened into a large room. The first thing he saw was an Orban at a computer, and he thought he recognised it.
“Ha'kuun?” Keinam asked.
The Orban turned around, showing no surprise to Keinam. “Ah, Warchief...Keinam, was it?”
Keinam had never really got used to the Orban voices when they entered his head. “Yeah, I'm Keinam. What happened here? How are alive?”
Ha'kuun seemed confused by the question. “Your back-up project. Do you not remember?”
“I know that much.” Keinam remembered the back-up project; a cloning chamber with a mind transferring system. After discovering that the brain communicated via electricity, the logistics of storing it briefly inside a server seemed possible. This bunker was preserved beneath the ground; in case of disaster, a few Orbans could shelter and be reborn after their original bodies died. “But how did you awaken from your tubes?”
“Her.” Ha'kuun pointed to a dark-haired young human female. “She accidentally awakened us again when her ship crashed here.”
Keinam nodded, before rounding on the woman. “Who are you?”
“My name is Ilisa, and I'm from Raan.” Ilisa seemed terrified at the sight of Keinam.
Keinam shed his exoskeleton, allowing it to drain back inside his chest. “Are you the only human here?”
“No.” Ha'kuun answered. “Her partner is in the tube.”
Keinam took a deep breath; stay calm. “What is he doing in the tube?”
“Being revived of course.” Another Orban interjected. “His body was dead, but his mind was sound. Ilisa awakened us, it seemed fair to repay her actions.”
Keinam considered it, and eventually conceded. “Fine.” He turned to Ilisa. “You stay here until your partner wakes. I need one of the Orbans.”
“I'd planned to stay.” Ilisa's voice was loud and defiant.
“Why do you need an Orban?” Ha'kuun asked.
Keinam smiled. “You have no idea what's happened over the last couple of centuries, do you?”
Ha'kuun shook his head. “All I know is that our world is mostly dead, aside from that new city the humans built.”
“My race was blamed for your planet's death, and persecuted. We had to hide beyond the Oblivion Gate, and to save Oblivion, we were trapped there for all this time. Long story short, anyway.”
“Hang on,” Ilisa spoke up, “You're an Adjeti?”
Keinam forced a smile. “Well done, dear. Yes I am.” Keinam turned and walked away, beckoning Ha'kuun to come with him. It was a shame that Keinam couldn't see Ilisa's expression; he imagined that it was shocked, angered and perplexed in one hideous combination.
“Why do you need me?” Ha'kuun asked.
“To prove our innocence.” Keinam walked ahead of Ha'kuun, looking over his shoulder to ensure that the Orban was still following. “We have footage proving our innocence, but footage can be doctored. But your testimony and existence cannot be faked.”
“We will take down the Pyrkagia.” Ha'kuun's voice took on an vicious tone. “Shame we couldn't stop them before,” he gestured to everything around him, “this.”
“We tried. We couldn't get there in time.” Keinam had never counted that in his battle losses; there had been no battle, as they were too late. “I killed the Primary earlier; that was a sweet victory. They should be in
disarray now.”
“Revenge will be sweet.”
“It will.”
Chapter 40
Maron 1
The Dominion hovered over the Grand Park on New Orbus, landing ramp extended so that it touched the ground; the flagship was too large to land in the park without causing further damage. The corpses were taken off the ship first, carried by the commanding officers. Soldier after soldier was carried past Maron as he waited near the ramp with the survivors. Xaosian corpses were left on board, and the prisoners were in chains like animals. Maron looked at them with disgust even as the last corpse was brought out. Now it was the turn of the injured to limp out, holding on to other soldiers as they did so. Maron walked over to a struggling soldier who seemed to be dragging his foot along the floor.
“Come here.” Maron said quietly, putting his arm under his comrade's, supporting his weight and lifting him slightly. The soldier weighed more than he'd expected, but he managed.
“Thanks.” The soldier lifted his foot off the ground and leant on Maron, who grimaced at the extra weight.
“No problem.” Maron noticed the seeping red hole in the soldier's leg. “What's your name?”
“Rals.” He grunted. “Yours?”
“Maron. Now come on Rals, we need to get you out of here.”
They began their slow walk down the landing ramp to the cheers of the ordinary citizens. Maron smiled; it was nice to appreciated for a change. In the army, there was little individuality, only ranks, so appreciation never really affected the lower ranks. When they go to the bottom, he let Rals go, and the younger soldier sat on the ground. “Wait for a doctor.” Maron said sternly as he took his armour off. “You'll be fine.”
“Where are you going?” Rals called as Maron dropped his armour to the floor.
“Home.” Maron called back.
As he walked through the park, people came up to him with messages of praise and thanks. Some stayed back and stared, which he much preferred; the crowds wanted to be around him, but he felt cramped and he could feel their arms against his, feet against feet, and eyes burning him; his claustrophobia was returning. He pushed his way through the mob, more forcefully than he intended to. Someone gasped and others muttered, but he ignored them.
He felt their stares on his back as he strode through the park, but he ignored them; they didn't know him, he didn't know them. When did personal space cease to exist? He coughed as he walked quickly away, and decided to slow down. His lungs burned as he coughed again, hunching over as he did so. Silently cursing the damned Ukafa Sticks, he stood still, breathing deeply until he was able to breathe properly again.
The park wasn't far from where he lived, but he couldn't quite see his house from where he was. Heading over to the eastern part of the park, he began to see the clumps of mud and grass that had been torn from the ground. Then he began to see the wreckage. Homes fallen to the ground, piles of uneven chunks littered the ground. Most homes were still standing, but a few of them were ailed with a broken window or fire damage. The streets were not as bad as he'd expected; some were ruined, looking as if someone had taken a carving knife to it. Some, however, were fine, but littered with wreckage. Corpses lay about, mostly human, with a Xaosian corpse appearing every now and then. He put his hand to his mouth; how much more devastation would have been wreaked if they hadn't stopped the Xaosians? What if they come back?
Maron took a deep breath and turned back around; he was prepared to give up the fighting, or at least rest at home for a few days. But Xaos won't rest. Their allies won't rest; they fled. They could return. He knew what he had to do.
Walking back towards The Dominion, he passed the crowd again and he hung his head, apologising to them as he walked through. They stepped back, but seemed to accept the apology with a nod.
“I thought you were going home.” Maron turned to see Rals looking at him with a curious look on his face.
“I was going to.” Maron sat down on the grass next to him. “But then I thought about all the people who were murdered here, all the destruction. If I went home, and turned my back on fighting, then I'd be turning my back on everyone here. The Xaosians need to be stopped, and the army needs all the help it can get.”
Rals nodded. “I get you there. That's why I want to keep fighting.” He pointed at his leg, which was now wrapped in a white cast. “That cast thing's been given to the soldiers who want to fight on; heals the injuries quicker.”
Maron looked at Rals and assessed him quickly; good-looking lad, probably about twenty years his junior. Weighed a lot for his athletic frame, so dense muscle. Sound morals. “You got any family, buddy?”
“Yeah, but they're back on Prauw.” He gave a dry laugh. “Bet they're shitting it worrying about me.” Maron smiled at this sentiment. “You got any family?”
Maron's smiled vanished. “Did. Parents died of old age a few months back and I'm an only child.”
Rals's features saddened. “I'm sorry to hear that.”
Maron forced a smile. “Yeah, so am I. I fell to bits after they died, alienated everyone around me.” He coughed, and pulled a small box out of his pocket and opened it. Inside were about half a dozen sticks; Ukafa Sticks. “Smoked more of these after that. Smoked anyway. Got it under control now, though. Mind if I...” Rals waved him on, and Maron took one out and placed it in his mouth, before offering the pack to Rals, who shook his head. Maron patted his pockets until he found his lighter, and igniting the stick.
Breathing in, the sting of the Ukafa set in, the tang in the back of the throat. Muscles relaxed and he briefly closed his eyes, enjoying both the taste and the relaxation it gave him. Breathing out, a small puff of smoke came out, but not as much as the old kind; he remembered those damn things.
“Filthy habit.” Rals joked.
“I know.” Maron agreed, nodding. “But I love it. It relaxes me. What relaxes you?”
Rals seemed to think about it for a moment. “Usually, I just look at the view from my apartment; you can see right across the biodomes and another of the fields. From there, the stones of Orbus. Beautiful. Calms me everytime.”
“Not exactly portable, is it?” Maron asked.
“I find I can close my eyes when stressed, and I can feel my way back there, to my apartment window and stare at the fields, and the stone. Nature calms me. Beauty calms me.”
Maron looked at Rals. “You'd make a great poet. You stick to beauty, I'll stick to drugs.” He stubbed his Stick out on the grass, then throwing the stub somewhere behind him. “And when we go out again – to battle I mean – I'll make sure we get put together; maybe we can enlighten each other.”
Rals chuckled. “I don't need enlightening.”
“We all need enlightening at some point. Ukafa just helps.”
Chapter 41
Guran 1
The skies of Oblivion were a pale blue, with not a cloud in the sky. Aeros zipped about above the streets of Tiyunso, the Adjeti city most associated with Oblivion's history. Usually, it would be the capital of the planet which would be the most historic, but Oblivion's capital has changed many times over the centuries. No-one had told Guran why exactly, but he assumed that it was something to do with population shifts; as one place becomes popular, people flock to it like moths to a flame. In order to keep up, the centre of operations on Oblivion would move to these areas, establishing its control over the new capital.
What Guran was also surprised by was the number of non-Adjeti living on Oblivion. As a human family walked past, he noticed most Adjeti getting on with their business. Guran found this odd until he asked his Adjeti guide, Finoh, why they accepted them while hating much of the Empire.
“Because they stayed.” Finoh responded with a tone beyond his years. “They stayed when everyone else turned against us, and we thank them for it. Many of them were slaughtered here, but the hate groups were shut down and dealt with accordingly. They are not just allies of the Adjeti, they are Adjeti now. They act like us, think l
ike us, and live among us. There are others, former migrants from all corners of the Empire, even some Xaosians like yourself. Not many, but there are some.”
“Never would have known there was so many.” Guran was in awe of this; a while ago, he hadn't believed Oblivion was still flourishing and alive, and he still couldn't quite believe it. Now, the revelation that Oblivion was multi-cultural, as opposed to the purely Adjeti haven it was purported to be.
“There are some villages comprised fully of immigrants, choosing to live away from us. We send them food and materials they need.” Finoh frowned. “Keinam may say that he hates humans, but he has lived among these for so long, he's forgotten that they are human. He thinks of humans as the heartless bastards who helped to damn our world; they didn't speak out, and they helped the Pyrkagia take control of the World-Burner. He hates the Empire, and almost everything in it. Otor seems to have softened against humans, but hardened against Xaosians...except you.”
“Dunno why.” Guran shrugged.
“You were the only person in about two-hundred years who didn't hate him.” Finoh seemed agitated by Guran's uncertainty.
They arrived at the busy city square. Surrounded by high-rise buildings, the paths were lined by thick, green hedges and, in the centre of a circle of hedges, was a huge statue carved atop four trees.
“What's the statue?” Guran asked.
“Four tree trunks standing storeys high, all twisted and carved into the first Adjeti Warchief, Adecin.” Finoh paused. “He's kind of like a god to a few groups of Adjeti.”
“Do you think that?”
Finoh had a strange look on his face. “Of course not. He was just the same as us, just more primitive. He didn't advance our race; he started a civil war and, when he won, proclaimed himself ruler of Oblivion.”
Guran shook his head and smiled. “There's so much we don't know about your planet. It seems to have such a deep history, and we know nothing about it.”
Finoh smiled. “Do you wish to visit the archives?”
Guran wanted to jump for joy, but was able to compose himself. “Certainly.”
Pulling his Adjeti-made coat around him, he noticed that the wind had picked up. Glancing at the sky, he saw that the pale blue sky had a greenish tinge to it. “Is that normal?” Guran pointed at the sky.
