by Aer-ki Jyr
The canister/rod dropped to the ground, as did Mak’to’ran, but he stopped at his knees with his tail flexed out straight behind him for counter balance as he breathed heavily, but his oxygen levels were constant. There was no physical strain, yet he was acting as if there was.
“You saw my execution, yes?” he finally asked.
“I saw the recording of it. Everyone in the empire did.”
“What happened from your view?”
“You were telekinetically decapitated.”
“How?”
“Your head was twisted until it broke, then it was pulled free of your body.”
“I remember feeling the Lachka and using my Rentar to counter it. Then I was grasped again with something other than Lachka. Something I could not defend against.”
“Another psionic?”
“The range involved for Lachka was impossible. He had to augment it. When it failed, he used something else. I believe he used raw Essence to kill me, and by doing so he has opened my senses to it. I feel drained, and I know I must not experiment too far or it will kill me, but I just added force to crush that container that my Lachka does not possess. I pushed it from my chest into my head, and I felt it flow out through my Lachka tissue. I am told Essence can also heal.”
“I know nothing about Essence,” Sol’an admitted. “How can it repair your cells without replacing them?”
“Even Star Force does not fully understand it, but they have recorded many instances of magical occurrences that they then later begin to define. I am weaker now. Can you see it in my body?”
“I cannot. My scans show you the same as a moment ago.”
“I am diminished. It must be Essence. Eldorat’s assassination attempt had given me access to it. I was touched by Essence, now I can dislodge it from my own body,” he said, standing up and twisting his tail around so that he could look at it. Mak’to’ran took one more risk, pushing the fabric of his existence out of alignment and down into his tail…which appeared to glow as he did so.
He immediately let go, and it felt like his second body jerked back into alignment, only now thinner than it had been before. The glow faded quickly, but not instantly, and he stared at his tail until the last embers of it were gone.
“What did you see?” he asked Sol’an.
“Where?”
“On my tail.”
“Nothing. What did you do?”
Mak’to’ran straightened out and fell to his knees again with the urge to breath heavily, but he realized his lungs were not craving air and it was just an automatic response to fatigue. He resisted it and simply held still, which seemed to help a bit better.
“I can see it now,” he said, not looking at her and staring at the ground as he tried to assess his interior Essence without moving it. There appeared to be nothing there until dislodged, and the thought of someone else dislodging it in him scared him to the core now that he had some understanding of what that involved.
“The Zak’de’ron claim they have one who can use Essence now, but in very small amounts.”
Mak’to’ran turned his head and glared at her. “What do you mean?”
“They made a public announcement after reclaiming Itaru. They said only they and the Oso’lon and J’gar could lead us against the Hadarak and all other threats. They said that they now had the seed of Essence power that would grow throughout the full empire over time, and showed one of their own lifting an object without using Lachka. We assumed it was fake, but they had numerous sensing devices on him at the moment, if you believe them.”
“And they use it to claim leadership?”
“Some are afraid of what Essence can do since Eldorat killed you right through our planetary defenses. They do not know how to defend against it. It was said that we went to war against the Zak’de’ron in order to die in a fight that was winnable rather than waiting to be slaughtered by these Essence users. I think that might be partially true.”
“Some?”
“Some have joined Itaru and accepted the triumvirate’s leadership once again. They believe in the superiority of the Zak’de’ron, and their claim of an Essence breakthrough gives small hope to those who feel helpless. If you have truly made the breakthrough, it will give you parity with them.”
“Parity? Star Force has the Essence power that neither of us do. Why did these systems not ally with them? Have they taken any of our worlds as their own?”
“I have heard stories of many that have fled to them, but no worlds have asked for their protection. Our war against the Zak’de’ron is our own, to win or lose. We have not involved them.”
“Yet you run to the Zak’de’ron when they show even the smallest Essence power rather than those who actually know how to wage war with it,” Mak’to’ran said angrily, standing up as he forced himself to concentrate. His strength was not returning quickly, and he felt if he dislodged his Essence again he could pass out, or even die, so it was imperative that he not touch it again for days, perhaps weeks, if the information Star Force had given him was accurate. Yet even this brief experience was illuminating. He felt as if another sense he’d possessed all along had suddenly awoken.
“We have not,” she defended.
“Have all Era’tran remained loyal?”
“I have not heard of any traitors, but I have been in the Zor’do working on you constantly. I know little of the war other than the major occurrences.”
“Treasonous Era’tran is a major occurrence,” he criticized, but his anger was not with her. “I understand your focus and thank you for it, though I do not remember it.”
“I had to wipe your short term memory each time I treated you. You should not remember it.”
“How badly damaged was I initially?”
“You were not conscious. Merely thrashing as pieces of your brain tried to operate without the others. It was more than 20 years before you could even stand.”
“Why did I not die initially? You said I was decapitated.”
“All the Era’tran with you were, but the Zen’zat were not attacked. They managed to reattach your head and those of a few others before you were unrecoverable. The others suffered too much brain damage and were reduced to hatchlings. You were attended to first, and slipped into a coma that protected most of your brain from the Kich’a’kat. That is why I was able to slowly put you back together again, but some of your memories should be permanently gone. Can Essence bring back past memory?”
“I do not see how, but I cannot rule out anything.”
“Is there something you cannot remember that you should?”
“Not obviously. If there is I will discover it when I seek it,” he said, pulling some more foodstuffs to him and hoping that would have some effect on his Essence depletion, for it was gnawing at him with no relief.
“Are you capable of leading the empire again?” she asked with a mix of apology for asking the question and necessary prudence.
“I am myself, though weak in body. Have I done any training?”
“None worth mentioning. How did you fare in battle?”
“You did not see?”
“I was most likely in shock, if not unconscious. I did not see.”
“My combat skills are intact,” he said succinctly. “If there is anything I have lost, I will replace it in time.”
“I think you will,” Sol’an said, feeling pride and relief that her task was nearly done. “Where do we go from here? We are far from safety.”
“What do you mean?”
“This region belongs to the Zak’de’ron. We evacuated the Zor’do save for a handful of people while I continued to work on you. Only it had the necessary equipment.”
“Why not move the equipment?”
“We could not leave the planet. And there is nowhere on the planet that is safe. When the invasion landed near to us, all forces on the planet moved to counterattack. In the end the invasion continued, but both sides were decimated. The Zak’de’ron claimed aerial super
iority, and the Zor’do had to be evacuated on foot. We could not take the equipment that way, and you would recover no further without it. We had to stay here as long as possible.”
“The Zor’do is nearby?”
“Yes.”
“Are there records of my stay there?”
“No. We deleted everything. Your existence is unknown.”
“Then we need to keep it that way. My taking command will not create any more ships, and there is much I need to catch up on. Where can I get armor?”
“There is none available or you would have it already.”
“Are supplies that low?”
“I am told so, but the Zen’zat know better than me.”
Mario’topa, where can I get armor? he asked the gunship overhead telepathically.
There is none within our reach. I could procure none. We must travel beyond Tullupeg, at the minimum.
Where are we currently?
North of Svegarneu. The invasion point was Kinnven and they are currently assaulting Vitolor.
I trust your guidance. I cannot reveal myself for a variety of reasons. How can we get beyond the battle lines without assistance?
There are few battle lines. Forces are exhausted everywhere. If we do not attract attention we can move freely. So far no one is approaching. The troops you killed were from the occupation force sent to take possession of the Zor’do. They assumed it was empty and we ambushed them, but were unable to keep it.
Is there any reason to return?
No. When the Kardopa returns you must leave on it and keep to the surface. Low orbit is unsafe despite the shield.
How many Zen’zat remain?
Three others.
Any Era’tran?
Only Sol’an, and she is not suited for combat. We are on our own.
So be it. Find some place remote we can hide out that has access to the comm grid. I need to know how badly we have been hurt before I decide how to proceed.
The transport will be here within minutes. Prepare to move.
9
May 11, 128800
Jamtren System (Era’tran capitol)
Holloi
The Kardopa moved slowly, essentially towing the gunship along behind it with an energy tether for days and staying away from inhabitation, whether it be friend or foe. Large chunks of Holloi were left to nature, so avoiding them was easy and fortunately no pursuit came for the transport and its pair of Era’tran passengers. It seemed everyone else was too busy or too beaten up to care, allowing them a pathetic escape across the jungles of the planet in the captured craft.
Their eventual destination was not a city, but one of many private residences scattered across the planet, and when Mario’topa queried the residence to announce themselves upon arrival he got no response of any kind.
“Something is not right,” he told Mak’to’ran, who was sitting in the main hold. “There is no activity at all from Garuva’s palace. Not even any tracking beams. I can’t contact a single individual in armor either.”
“Hold us here and have the gunship be our eyes.”
“Yenni?” he asked, glancing at the nearby Zen’zat pilot.
She nodded, reforming her armor from the jewel-like gauntlets that she wore and heading for a side hatch. The Zen’zat opened it mid-flight and crawled out across the hull of the transport back towards the energy tether as Mario’topa telepathically ordered Ben’ra to slow them to a halt.
Yenni continued climbing across the nearly vertical hull using the grip points on her armor, then she got her feet under her and leapt from one craft to the other, landing on the exterior of the gunship and breaking off a few more fragments of charred armor on impact. She crawled inside and slid into the central pilot seat, then disconnected the energy tether and began to drift the gunship around and ahead of the transport at a slow crawl on the one and only gravity drive the small craft had left.
It took nearly 15 minutes for her to come up on the palace, and when she did she transmitted the visuals back to the transport.
“There’s no activity of any kind,” her voice said as Mak’to’ran saw the holograms of the Era’tran Elder’s residence.
There was a boundary wall made up of mounds three rows deep that would allow someone to walk through the crevices between them, which could become a death trap if needed. Inside the perimeter were many low buildings that he suspected to be built deep into the ground. As it was, none of them were taller than the treetops, making the palace disappear into the jungle unless you were directly over top of it. He had never been here before, but Garuva was well known as an industrial genius who once represented the Era’tran in the Elder Council. But like so many others after their first million years of life, he had retreated from public service to pursue special projects at his leisure.
These reclusive Elders were the true leaders of the Era’tran, but they did not get involved in current events unless their capable, but younger kin proved to be inadequate to the task. Garuva’s palace had always been known to host many guests and staff. For it to be empty seemed chilling given the fact that there appeared to be no damage to the sprawling residence at all.
“Put down on the platform and begin scouting on foot,” Mak’to’ran ordered the gunship. “We are enroute.”
The Kardopa started moving again, much faster than the gunship had, and by the time they crossed the outer boundary Yenni had barely had time to land her broken ship on one of four small pads that sat flush with the tree tops and made the ships that used them look like they were floating on a sea of green from the horizon.
The Kardopa was far too large to land, so it was brought to a hover over one of those pads and an extendable ramp lowered a great distance to reach it, down from which Mak’to’ran and Sol’an walked along with Lenna and Mario’topa who ran ahead of the Era’tran as skirmishers while Ben’ra remained onboard the transport.
“Evacuated?” Sol’an wondered.
“It would seem so,” Mak’to’ran agreed. “I do not understand why. This facility has defenses. Why leave them for the enemy to secure?”
“Contact,” Yenni said over the comm. “Zen’zat without armor.”
Mak’to’ran saw her position on his own tactical display, noting that she was down at ground level and on the other side of the nearest cylindrical building that had a flat top with a walkway connecting it to the landing pads at an angle. He took off at a slow run across that walkway as it descended to the top of the building, then he crossed it and jumped off the far side, falling and landing hard on the paved ground below, but he did not topple.
The impact made a not so subtle tremor, and he wasn’t surprised to see that Sol’an didn’t follow his reckless path, rather taking one of the landing pad ramps down and crossing the rest of the distance on foot as Mak’to’ran stared at the small group of Zen’zat coming out of the building and standing next to Yenni.
“Identify yourselves,” he demanded, taking a few sore steps forward but pleased that his leg check proved adequate. The Kich’a’kat had done much to repair the stagnation his body had been suffering from.
“We are Elder Garuva’s caretakers,” one of males said as he bent his neck back to look up at the towering Era’tran without fear. “We were instructed to remain here and maintain the palace when the others left.”
“Where did they go?”
“Garuva decided to join those counter-attacking the invasion point and took all his Era’tran and combat proficient Zen’zat with him. He sent the rest of his techs to other assignments, leaving 13 of us to maintain the palace for his uses or demolish it should the Zak’de’ron come to claim it. We have heard nothing of him or those that went with him. They are labeled as missing, most likely dead.”
“What of the other Elders?”
“Many chose to fight the first battle. I do not know how many remain.”
“Is your tactical grid access secure?”
“It is. Are you here to reclaim the palace or demolish it?”
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“I have need of it,” Mak’to’ran said firmly. “No mention of our presence is to be reported under any circumstances.”
“As you wish, Era’tran. What do you require of us?”
“Combat armor.”
“We have both Era’tran and Zen’zat suits in the armory.”
Mak’to’ran huffed agreeably. “The two vessels we arrived on were captured from the enemy. Check them over for any alterations, code or hardware, that is beyond standard specifications. If they come up clean, try and repair what you can. Are there any aerial craft here?”
“Two barges remain, plus 6 Zen’zat speeders and a geoball.”
Mak’to’ran’s eye ridge twitched. A geoball was a subsurface transport that operated on fixed rail lines.
“Where does the georail connect to?”
“Several private facilities, along with a single line to a hidden access point in Triapesc.”
“Where is Garuva’s war room?”
The Zen’zat tech pointed behind Mak’to’ran.
“Show me.”
“You come with us,” Mario’topa said, picking one of the techs. “The rest get to work on the craft.”
Mak’to’ran spun around as the little Zen’zat scattered around his feet and ran so not to force him to walk painfully slow. That was a matter of courtesy the Zen’zat always extended the larger races, and Mak’to’ran could feel the pleasure this one tech had at finally being given a task to do. His mind was masked to him, but his emotions were so overwhelming him that he was involuntarily transmitting them…as were the others heading to the ramp. Apparently they had been abandoned here and were in desperate need of direction.
All the buildings Mak’to’ran could see were built for Era’tran, though there were a few small auxiliary entrances for the Zen’zat. The tech did not lead him to one of those, but opened up a larger door for him that led into a small, but adequately sized room for three, perhaps four Era’tran to work in. There were plush pedestals to lay on as they worked, but Mak’to’ran went right for the central hologram and mentally interfaced with it, bringing up the data network access that would let him see what was going on everywhere else on the planet that was still connected.
