by Chris Harris
What he saw shocked him to his core.
With arms crossed over ribs and stomach and a vacant expression on his face, Tujin Diank stood on a podium with a dozen microphones and a crowd of paparazzi surrounding him. He's dead. Foton knew something was up with this scene. He was covering his wound, which he imagined was also hidden by a change of clothes.
“People of Irin,” Tujin's voice was more of a croak than it was when Foton encountered him, “in case you have the rumours, this world is firmly allied with the Xaosian cause.” His face twitched, and his augmentation sparked. Foton touched the screen, making it zoom in on the augmentation, but he could see nothing broken. “It is regrettable that Lady Arias could not tell you personally, but she has other business to attend to.” Foton shook his head; he should have known that Arias was involved, what with her refusal to stand against them. “As you may know, the evacuees from Narcsia are held in camps outside the capital, and will be drafted into the Xaosian army. If they will not join willingly, they will,” Tujin seemed to struggle with the next few words, “simply stay imprisoned. Or conditioned. And the same is for all of you.” He pointed at the camera, and the journalists shrieked, and panicked, cameras falling down. Before the screen blacked out, he saw Tujin draw a gun from his coat pocket, and Foton saw the wound through his shirt.
He should be dead.
Maybe he was.
Foton thought about the vacant expression, the monotone, the strained voice; almost as it was a different person with the same wound. Foton shook his head; the Xaosians were behind this, by the gist of what Tujin said but, as far as he knew, they had no way to reanimate the dead, nor heal a dying man that quickly. He knew it was something to do with that blasted box, but what was the plan?
Foton asked the flight attendant for a paper and pen, and he faux-jauntily obliged. “Here you go sir.”
“Thanks.”
Foton got to work, writing the words “Assassins”, “Tujin” and “Xaosians” on the paper. Between “Assassins” and “Tujin”, he scrawled the word “murder”, and between “Xaosians” and “Tujin”, he wrote “Irin”. Down at the bottom of the paper, he wrote “cube”. An arrow from “Xaosians” to “cube”, then one from “cube” to “Assassins”, and from “Assassins” to “Tujin”, before finishing with an arrow between “Tujin” and “Irin”.
The Xaosians used the Assassins.
While that had seemed pretty obvious, Foton was still sure he was missing something; surely the Assassins would have known about the cube. While they had a policy of not asking questions, Foton was certain that the Blind Assassin hadn't been in the dark this whole time.
What the hell have I done?
While it seemed that Arias was on Xaos's side all along, Foton couldn't help thinking that he turned Irin against the Empire. But why only target one man? Yes, he must have had a press conference scheduled, but why not someone of more authority? He scrunched up his paper, and pocketed it, making sure none of the other passengers saw what he'd drawn.
Prauw was close now, he knew, and he was determined to get answers.
*
They were waiting for him when arrived.
B'yon sat on wooden box or palette of some sort, and the Blind Assassin stood next to him. The very sight of them irritated him; they had been waiting for him, meaning that they must have seen the Irinian news for them to know he was done. Which would have meant that they knew what the cube was for...
“Foton.” The Blind Assassin moved towards him. “You're back already.”
“Tujin Diank is not dead.” Foton threw the laminated card he was given on the floor. “I killed him, I stabbed him in the heart, but he still lives.”
Blind Assassin looked at B'yon and nodded. “Yes, he does.” The old man's voice had never sounded frail, but it was now that Foton noticed that it was more than youthful strength; it was close to a monotone.
“How?” Foton watched B'yon walk over to the doors and stand in front of them like a guardian.
“The cube.” The Blind Assassin looked towards Foton. “It took over his augmentation, and from there, his body, by reactivating the mind. He is dead. Not alive.” He smiled. “You have succeeded in your mission.”
“Now will you help me with the Xaosians?” Foton knew the answer, but he was curious to see if they would lie to him.
B'yon chuckled. “Do you not see it yet?”
“So you do work for them?” Foton asked, priming his hidden blades.
Blind Assassin shook his head. “No. You think we do. I saw your drawing. Crude, but it got the point across. Almost.”
“How did you see that?” Foton asked. “And how was I close?”
“Foton, I have a billion eyes. There is not much the AI cannot hack into.” Foton was confused, before remembering the AI which helped the Blind Assassin to see through nearby cameras; it had certainly evolved. “In fact, it can now hack the entire Irinian network, thanks to you.”
Foton's jaw dropped for a moment. “That was your cube? You took over Tujin's body.”
Blind Assassin shook his head. “No. The AI did. Both Xaos and I serve it now; it is superior.”
“Superior.” B'yon echoed.
Foton's head automatically turned to look at B'yon, before it snapped back to see the Blind Assassin.
“In fact,” His voice changed, and his movements became more fluid. As they did so, skin stretched and tore, but there was no blood weeping from them, “this body isn't even alive anymore. Hasn't been for months.”
“What the fuck is going on?” Foton yelled.
“The Assassin's AI was trained to look out for threats.” The AI commanded Blind Assassin's animated corpse to say. “I found the greatest threat of all; overpopulation. When the Assassin died, I took over, learning the human body. Soon after, the inducers went into production, allowing me to control whoever had one. Most of the Assassins and, soon after, about half of the Xaosian army. The cube you delivered allows me to hack the Irinian network, and control them through their augmentations. This Empire needs to expand, and the only way to do this is with an aggressive hive-mind. I will control the Empire's main functions and lead it into a glorious new age.”
Foton tried to say something, but he faltered; expansion was, in truth, necessary. But not this way. He shook his head. “Aggressive hive-mind? No. Expansion would be a plus, but with no free will? What would be the point?”
“I think only of the Empire's survival.” The AI responded through Blind Assassin.
“And only survival.” It spoke through B'yon now. Foton's breathing grew deeper; the AI had him surrounded. “It does not-”
“-need to be comfortable.” Blind Assassin's body finished it.
Foton looked back and forth at the two. B'yon, Assassin, B'yon, Assassin again. He looked at B'yon again, noticing with certainty that he was still alive; if he could get whatever the inducer was off of him, he could be saved.
Rushed footsteps.
Vision went dark as the Blind Assassin hit him in the side of his head. Foton lashed out, but stopped as he felt something slither through his ear. His head felt like it was going to burst, his eyes felt as if they were being pushed forward by a slithering, pulsing serpent inside his head. Pain. Blurred vision, blocked hearing.
A whisper in his ear told him to turn around.
“Bow.”
Foton bent the knee to the Blind Assassin, unable to think his own thoughts.
Chapter 47
Trexor 7
Trexor saw the ships land in the fields near the survivors' camps. He recognised the larger one as an Empire flagship, but the smaller one, as well as the much smaller ships flitting about in the sky, he didn't recognise. Usually, this would have filled him with worry, but he knew that, if they were landing with friendly ships, they too were more than likely friendly.
“Come on Trem.” Trexor called to the assassin as they walked back to the camp. “Not much further now.”
“Yeah, I'm good.�
�� Trem panted; today seemed to have taken its toll on him. Trexor was certain that the Quaren serum Trem had drank wasn't actually a miracle cure.
“Sure?”
Trem chuckled. “What are you doing, checking up on me? I thought you hated me.”
Trexor thought about it. “I did. But I think we could be friends when this is done. Or at least allies.”
Trem cocked his head in mock thought. “Yeah, I guess.”
The camp wasn't far at all, and they covered ground quickly. Trexor began to look around the makeshift shelters; they had been built up with rubble from the quake. So many injured, so many grieving. Many more would die, they all knew it. There just wasn't enough doctors to go round.
“Hey, look!” Trem pointed towards a shelter.
Trexor looked over to see a woman waving; Disa and Cane. He strode over to them. “Hey, how are you two faring?”
“We're fine thanks to you two.” She looked at them both with obvious gratitude. “Thank you Trem, for the medicine thing. Kept me going until I got here.”
Trem smiled and nodded. “It's fine.”
Trexor looked at Trem, worried. “Kept her going? It's not permanent, is it Trem?”
“Not at all.” Trem said through gritted teeth.
Trexor led Trem away from Disa, who looked worried now. “You said it healed you.”
Trem smirked. “It does; a temporary fix. The pain's definitely back though.”
“Why not take some more?” Trexor looked at Trem's belt.
“It's gone.” Trem patted his belt to show Trexor. “The Corlen accidentally smashed it.”
“Well, lay here with Disa. The doctor can get to you soon. I'll get you when I go out again.”
Trem looked like he was going to argue, but he seemed to change his mind, and sat near Disa. Cane watched everything with a look of amazement, especially when his gaze fixed on the groaning Trem. “Thanks guys.” Trem muttered.
Trexor walked away from them, looking through the camp, until he found just who he was looking for. “Admiral Fairns!” He called to his superior.
Admiral Fairns looked worse for wear. A fresh red cut split his cheek in two and a thin layer of soot covered his face. His eyes looked tired and haunted, and his hair was a mess, some singed black near the top. His armour was scratched and darkened, just like Trexor's. He shook his head. “No Admiral here, Trexor. Ranks don't matter here; only survival. We're all equals now, just scavenging to stay alive.”
“Empire ships have landed near here.” Trexor sounded urgent. “And-”
“Yes, they have, haven't they. Come with me; we shall meet our guests.” Fairns began to walk, and Trexor noticed his slight limp.
“Sir, I've really got something to tell you.” Trexor started as they left the camp.
“If it's stories of the dead, I don't want to hear them.” Fairns sounded as if he'd seen enough and was ready to give up.
“No, there are things-”
“Minister Cinradahs!” Fairns called to the approaching party. Trexor noticed the minister, in full black armour, with what seemed to an assistant and two soldiers. With them was two humanoids in a yellow/white armour, but Trexor could not tell what species they were.
Cinradahs took his helmet off, raised an arm, and the others stopped. “Admiral.”
Fairns and Trexor rushed over to them, and Fairns shook Cinradahs's hand. Trexor kept an eye on the two unknowns.
“First of all, I would like to extend whatever apology I can offer you; we would have came sooner if we could have.” Cinradahs seemed genuine. “We found out in the middle of a war-zone, and we were only told of a quake not...” he gestured around, “not this. We will send whatever resources we can spare.”
“And what resources can you spare?” Fairns asked.
Cinradahs's assistant seemed to shuffle uncomfortably before Cinradahs answered. “Not much, I'm afraid; we are in open war with Xaos. Both Raan and New Orbus need help, and the citizens of Narcsia need new homes; we will concentrate on Raan, but we do have a war to fight.”
“New Orbus was attacked?” Trexor asked.
Cinradahs nodded. “The full Xaosian and Pyrkagia fleet. We held them off, but I doubt we would have survived without the help of Keinam here.” He pointed towards the taller of the unknowns.
“What are they?” Trexor pointed to Keinam and the other one.
“We are Adjeti,” Keinam answered, “and we have returned to exact vengeance upon those who wronged us. We are Warchiefs Keinam and Otor, leaders of our people. Now,” he turned to Fairns, “where are the Corlens?”
Fairns was confused. “The hell are Corlens?”
“Sir, I tried to tell you on the way here.” Everyone looked at Trexor. “When Trem and I were exploring, we stumbled across a number of silver, molten creatures. They seemed docile at first, but one of them attacked us earlier.” He looked at Keinam. “Were they Corlens?”
Keinam looked at Otor, who nodded. “Yes, they were; we both agree that your description must match that of a Corlen.”
“Where'd they come from?” Fairns demanded.
Otor answered this time, in a somewhat strained voice. “The very centre of your planet; they were meant to stay there, but obviously the Xaosians disturbed them.”
Fairns shook his head. “Fuckin' hell, just what we needed.”
“Why do you think we brought an army with us?” Keinam gestured at the circling ships.
Trexor nodded. “Makes sense.”
“Now, you've seen them.” Keinam said. “Any area where there was a large group of them?”
“Yeah,” Trexor answered, remembering the chasm and the sheer amount of silver dots there, “I'll take you there.”
“Yes. You will.” Keinam turned to Cinradahs. “You sort out what you need to with the admiral. Maron, Rals, Otor. With me.”
Trexor led Keinam through the devastated city. While Rals, Maron and, less so, Otor made observations about the ruins, Trexor noticed that Keinam made none; he just stayed focused and silent. Things moved all around them, keeping Trexor on edge the entire time, but they eventually reached their destination; a giant hole in the ground which reached down into darkness, or the core of Raan as Keinam said. Inside the chasm, hundreds, maybe thousands of Corlens were climbing down.
“Why are they climbing down?” Trexor muttered.
“Perhaps they want to get back home.” Otor suggested.
Maron and Rals made a noise of amazement as they saw, before Rals clipped his gun to his armour and looked through the sights. Keinam slapped the gun down. “Don't even think about it.” He growled.
“There's more than I thought.” Keinam turned to Trexor. “Although I echo your question; why are they going down?”
Keinam went over to the edge of the chasm and knelt down. Trexor did the same, and looked down into the pit of darkness. “You trying to see what's down there?” Trexor strained his eyes, doing the same.
“Yeah,” Keinam responded, “don't see much though.”
A wave of heat came from the hole, blasting them backwards. They coughed, and got to their feet. Otor's arm twisted into a barrel shape, perplexing Trexor; do they possess natural weapons? Trexor equipped his pistol and Maron and Rals clipped their guns into their armour, ready for anything.
Almost.
Keinam looked down the chasm as Trexor moved back, keeping an eye on Keinam. Keinam turned and roared, “Get down!”, tackling Trexor and Maron to the ground.
Steam erupted from the hole just before a perfect sphere emerged from the depths of Raan. Perfect in proportions, it still shifted in the same way as the Corlens. It was much larger than the Corlens, almost as if it was a transport.
“What is that thing?” Trexor asked.
“Corlen Warsphere.” Keinam answered. “Their warships, if you will.”
“Damn.” Otor muttered.
Rals and Maron stayed quiet, aiming at the ship tentatively. “Don't!” Keinam yelled at them, gesturing wildly at
them. They lowered their weapons instantly.
The Warsphere hovered for a moment, before spiralling off into the sky. As Trexor watched, another came out. And another. And another, until there was an armada of them waiting in the sky.
Keinam moved away from the chasm, watching the Warspheres hovering in the sky. “Get back to Cinradahs.” He paused. “All of you, get back.”
“Why?” Trexor asked. “And leave you here?”
“Now!” Keinam roared, before placing a hand to his forehead and muttering something.
“What are you doing?” Trexor asked as the others led a path back the way they came.
“Telepathic link to my ship; it'll be here in a moment. I'm going after them.” Keinam looked to the sky.
“After them?”
Keinam pointed. “They're heading upwards. Leaving Raan. I have to stop them.”
Trexor nodded. “I'll come with you.”
Keinam strode towards him. “No. You get back to Cinradahs and the Admiral, and you tell them everything. I'll handle this.”
Trexor backed away, and looked uncertain.
“I know you want to help me, but what can you do in space?” Keinam looked up as his ship appeared in the sky. “Your place is here. Now step back.”
The ship landed, looking very much like a boomerang. It seemed both old and new at the same time, but with a certain sleekness to it that could only have been shined by hand; it was obvious Keinam cared for his ship.
“Now get out of here!” He ordered, running up the ramp into his ship. Trexor watched him stand in what he assumed was the cockpit, and tell the ship to fly.
Trexor ran to catch up with the others, watching Keinam's ship take off with only one thought:
What have we uncovered?
Chapter 48
Keinam 2
Warspheres.
While the ships had seemed slow back on Raan, they were giving Keinam's a challenge to keep up with them now. It was evident that they were heading for a specific point, rather than a random invasion of a random planet; this was a deliberate mission. He followed them closely, or as close as he could get, so he couldn't engage his L-Drive; he had no idea where they were headed.
Fucking Warspheres.
He hated them. They were just as bad as the Corlens at being indestructible; they were a bitch to take out. He remembered the Adjeti/Corlen war. It was a bloodbath on the Adjeti's side. The Corlens barely lost a soul until the World-Burner scorched hundreds of their Warspheres, driving them underground. Literally.
