Alliance

by Bruce S Larson

  Some particles plunged deeper to a fate beyond the cyclone. Other radiation blasted outward with the jet. Zaria entered its flow and enjoyed the sensation of speed. She could move between many points at a rate that appeared instantaneous. Yet, deep in the intricate forces and interconnected thoughts that created her mind was an ancestral joy of speed. He raced along the jet with the same thrill known by ancient humans running across a savannah, or a bird diving over a cliff and down the slope of a glacier. For a moment, Zaria was having fun.

  Zaria briefly regretted asking Gin to stay and guard Asherah. One day, he may be as free as she was to roam. For now, his maintenance of the hidden world that some legends called Eden was more important than Zaria’s current task. As Gin cared for Asherah, she tried to care for the galaxy. It was her own quest for purpose and identity. Having focus for one’s existence underscored her concern for Anguhr and his horde. She still felt an urge to fulfill her personal quest. The urge to define her identity was an echo from once being part of another, single being. She did not consider it often, but the schism with the Dark Urge affected her even now.

  For the moment, Zaria focused on the thrill of riding the radiant jet. She loved that purely natural forces granted the experience. No minds wielding great powers of creation or dark will of annihilation caused the cosmic cyclone to form. Temporal physics gave rise to the powerful quasar. Deep within its center, gravity fused a colorless, dark gem and kept it growing in a realm of mostly empty space. Its absolute center was an ever-compressing universe that was free of urgency and indolence, because it had no time.

  Time was the dimension Zaria needed most. Its arrows kept sailing. In one of time’s own dimensions, she wanted to help create peace. In the present, she arrived above the galactic rim. The stars and dust of a colliding, dwarf galaxy appeared almost near, although it was half the length of the main galaxy away and twenty times more massive than the quasar nested in the galactic fold. The dwarf galaxy had lost its spiral shape as it merged with its larger neighbor. One part of the main galaxy’s spiral swept out before her as a luminous peninsula of reality. Beyond its light was a black, infinite expanse. Infinity. It was as if an urge from beyond thought called her to enter it.

  Zaria felt as if she was drifting into the intergalactic void. Some entities were forced or ventured into the deep blackness. None were ever seen again. Zaria resisted being caught by the awe. She focused on the dwarf galaxy as if to grasp its stars and tether her mind. Then she searched and found her reason for coming here. The metal chevron was massive to most living eyes, yet a speck in the scene before her. It was a Xa’rol ark.

  The collective entity had chosen a shoal-like avatar when Zaria last spoke to them. The form was homage to the sea world they rose from and the environment they most enjoyed. They were trusted allies who helped her battle General Sutuhr. The Xa’rol committed their species and sacrificed their planet in an epic battle that bought time for all life. They had worked with Zaria to create these hidden repositories of life to repopulate the galaxy after Hell’s defeat. Then, such an outcome was uncertain. Now, the future looked hopeful. One day, the arks would descend to planets and nebulae and foster a galactic ecology.

  Zaria needed to know her long-term plans were still viable, that the arks were still there, and that many lost lifeforms would thrive anew. This need was also psychological. In practical terms, the arks also provided a means of orientation. Their position drew a pattern over her local quadrant, and enabled her to plan an efficient search across such immensity. Finding her quarry would be difficult. She sought a thing without form. A mind.

  The entity Zaria sought traversed spacetime as projected thoughts. She found clues to its presence, beginning with Azuhr’s sword. It had also reached into Builder structures visited by a massive battleship not built in Hell. Despite its reach, the mind clearly wanted to hide. Zaria understood the need to act covertly, at times. She had hid her plans to save life from the Dark Urge and thwart her Generals across the galaxy. Nevertheless, circumstance forced her to engage her former half-self in the physical and mental realms. Perhaps this unknown presence also worked to a complete a mission. But what cause did it serve?

  Zaria wondered if her search would involve confrontation. But she needed information. To gain it would take time, but she didn’t know how much she could afford to spend. Enjoying another radiant jet would have to wait.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Solok realized he was wrong. There was one potent enemy on the surface of Kaekus. It was boredom. He stood in a long shadow awaiting a new ally or enemy. The long span of darkness stretched before the demon commander as if from the towering arm of a massive sundial. The planet’s lone sun slowly moved in the sky. It seemed time did not. For a demon made for a perpetual war, the shortest moment spent standing still on campaign felt almost as eternal damnation.

  Yet his Lord and General, Anguhr, had tasked him to meet the forces of Kaekus. Solok mused that if the approaching army was belligerent, it might give him sport with a lengthy battle. A demon could learn to hope, even it wished for conflicts that some worlds would call doomsday. Catastrophe came slow in the vast basin of brittle grasses where Solok stood. A network of pipes, pumps, and massive valves sat abandoned to the south. They once pumped water from the lake that filled the basin in wetter ages. Now the intakes rusted in midday glare. The grasses found what buried water remained, and refused to share it.

  Time seemed to dilate and forget to include Solok in the same sensory frame. The location for the summit of Anguhr’s horde and Kaekus, or at least the planets most powerful warlord, was in the message received by Anguhr’s ship. There were no temporal distortions affecting the transmission. The natives should have been waiting. Yet, recon flights showed them still marching across this dying planet. Anguhr’s ship had traversed interstellar distance. Nevertheless, travel ease appeared proportional to technology. Once, Kaekus supported nations with advanced sciences and industry. Now, to cross its terrain, the best their world could offer was sturdy boots.

  The approaching warlord hid his one space-capable ship. That did not bode well for establishing trust, even with forces from Hell. Yet global war had likely eroded trust from many on Kaekus. Solok had amended his initial report on Kaekus after surface contact provided more data on the world war’s cause. The stages of erosion and pattern of city collapses revealed the industrial civilization had degraded the planet’s environment and killed the natural water cycle. Water became a commodity so precious that nations used force to secure it. The grassy basin was once a vast lake. Now, even the grasses dried. War could destroy a world, just as a hellship could rip planets apart. Solok saw a similarity. The biggest difference was, of course, time.

  Solok adjusted his rifle slung next to his folded wings. He grasped and released the pommel on his sword grip. He looked over at the rusting pipeworks that lay still as if hundreds of dead, steel snakes. Then he peered skyward at in the bright, blue sky and imagined the many stars that must appear at nightfall now that so many artificial, city lights had also died. If the shattered galaxy had nothing more to offer than this slowly eroding world, Solok thought he may see a star born, live, and die before that happened. Many other lifeforms might think it strange that he considered such a lifespan possible. Yet, when it was hard for most opponents to merely injure demons, it was a natural thought.

  Finally, there was action. The sound of hundreds of boots crushing grass echoed from the West. Solok had not considered the height of the grass. It was a harmless thing crushed beneath his taloned feet. It swayed and parted as the army from Kaekus approached. At least the soldiers were taller than the swaying, thin reeds. Any shorter and Solok could not imagine fighting, but only trampling them.

  Their leader rode a large, long arthropod. Its legs parted the grass as a thousand, flowing sickles. The legs at its middle were longer and more spidery. Each of its amber sections was nearly clear. This allowed a view of its pumping arteries and undulation of its muscles. He c
ould sense and smell it was not native to Kaekus.

  Gigantipede, the Field Master mused a name for the creature as he compared it to similar, palm-sized creatures he had glimpsed on other worlds. He could not recall their flavor.

  A riding harness sat bolted to the plate near the gigantipede’s head behind dagger fangs and constantly whipping antennae. Solok rather liked the sectioned creature. He reserved judgment on its rider. The warlord guided his long, multi-legged mount into the long shadow and stayed within its path as he led his forces.

  Solok could access images from all angles from many sets of hidden eyes, or in orbit. The people of Kaekus held a familiar, bipedal form. Two, dark and round eyes rested in puckered, muscular lids resembling vertical craters. The eyes faced forward like many predators, but were small in proportion to the broad, spherical faces. The eyes sat gathered over large, ovoid nostrils that looked more typical for ocean mammals.

  All the soldiers were bulky with thick, calloused hides clad in bands of seemingly redundant armor that creaked from their swaying gait. A wide, blunt tail projected from their backs. Their armor bands covered them in reinforced, narrowing bands. Solok concluded the tail must be a sensitive body part, and thus a weakness. The soldiers marched in flanking columns. They would be the best and strongest of this warlord’s army. If he had a trusted lieutenant, he would be controlling the power base until his leader returned, or plotting his demise.

  Anguhr and Uruk always led from the front, ensuring loyalty and respect. Solok mused that Uruk had never acted as an agent of first contact. He missed Uruk. Nevertheless, he enjoyed his current, high rank. It was obvious the gigantipede rider enjoyed his position as well. His skin glistened. All the others had peeling areas. Their exposed skin longed for moisture more than the dying grass.

  Adornments of jewels and bright metals were few, but scars were many. Solok expected scavenged firearms to arm some units. Instead, all these soldiers held were wood shafts with long, flaring spearheads. Two such spears bobbed behind the warlord on his riding rig. The masses of his shoulders and arms showed physical strength for his kind. He was a bit fatter and obviously better fed. His glaring eyes glanced to both sides to ensure his soldiers kept formation to display their discipline and his power.

  Another display of power did not impress Solok and revealed why the army did not move with greater speed. Another, unarmed group shuffled forward behind the warlord’s mount, flanked by the army’s columns. The hues of the soldiers ranged from dark brown to blue grey. The center group tended toward a greenish tint. They did not show pride as they marched in the sunlight. They appeared trampled like the grass. The bindings on their wrists and longer lengths tied at their ankles were not decorative, but restrictive. Many had cut where the loops gripped the skin. This group was not soldiers. They were prisoners.

  As the army came closer, pride lit the warlord’s face. And then he looked at Solok. He pulled back the reins of his gigantipede. It stopped. The army and prisoners did, also. He blinked and shook his head slightly to escape the mesmeric hold of Solok’s large, serpentine eyes, and spoke.

  “I bid you, welcome, powerful lord of Hell! Your display gives of power, this monolith behind you, gives us needed shade. We salute!”

  All solders raised and lowered their spears in a creaking wave that rippled down the army columns. A translation unit in Solok’s rifle made his barks and speech plain to the planet’s natives.

  “I am Field Master Solok. For now, I speak for the true lord and master of all he sees, General Anguhr. He grants you a greater honor than you have ever known by orbiting his ship around Kaekus. And letting you all live.”

  “Um, yes. Um, Kaekus?” the warlord asked.

  “Your planet,” Solok replied.

  “Of course!” The warlord bowed his head. “I am Tantabor. I now rule Kaekus.”

  “You rule its largest army. I see others preparing for siege and deploying in the field. Such a statement belies the reality of your world, and your power.”

  “You can see all that?”

  “Of course. I am from Hell.”

  Tantabor paused. “I am the ruler, in principle. As you say, great one from Hell, I am the most powerful of the presidents—uh, generals.”

  Solok scrutinized Tantabor. “I recognize your basic form. Your species was raided by the Loor’kallan, as were many species encountered by Hell’s demons. Those I saw were in systems far from here, but this was their origin world. Interesting.”

  “Yes! My ancestor, Agreevace, was taken. He certainly became a great warrior, like you!”

  “Unlikely.” Solok said. “The history strand mentioned a sort of prize they offered. Something called a taste. A flavor.”

  “Uh—” Tantabor searched for a reply and pushed aside thoughts of his ancestor and the image of Solok’s rows of sharp teeth. “So demons know of treasure!”

  “We know booty. But it was a trait of other hordes. I have had no need of curios.”

  “Then what do you prize, great demon?”

  “Victory. I have known nothing more.”

  “I see, and am impressed. May I ask, does your own master—leader—desire more than that? Something of physical substance?”

  “We have come because my Lord Anguhr seeks an empire. That is physical thing. Mostly.”

  “Then know I bring him physical pleasure and the promise of more.” Tantabor leaned back toward the prisoners “For, ah, tasting or in any way he—or you—deem right.”

  Tantabor found Solok’s glare unsettling, and worse, it was inscrutable. He had no way of knowing if his words pleased the demon, or enraged him. To claim his own victory, Tantabor needed to use verbal manipulations. He could not assault the demon. He was certain Solok could eat him. Even his skin seemed to make the breeze bleed as dust on the wind curled between the points of his thorns.

  To succeed, Tantabor could wax solicitous, even bow before Solok. But if he failed, or worse yet, was physically beaten, his reign would end. If he secured Hell’s alliance, no one would dare challenge him. Thus, even laying supine before the demon would make him supreme, if he secured the horde as an ally. Tantabor reassured himself that he proved smart enough to master the spacecraft, and make it a warship in his planet’s skies. He had manipulated another race of warrior aliens, and found unusual means of creating military power. How more difficult could manipulating a demon be than outthinking another tyrant?

  Appealing to the most wicked urges should make the task easy, Tantabor had thought. The demons were from Hell, after all. They should appreciate power as the abuse of the weak and dispossessed. Kaekus was a harsh world, and already Hell for many. Tantabor sought to make life more severe by allying with nothing short of the planet that wrought galactic apocalypse.

  Yet, the dynamics of damnation had changed. Hell’s remaining military force had rebelled against its dark sovereign. It was now a free state of its own, looking for definition in a galaxy it helped to rend. Its leader now sought to build, although an empire was a dubious choice of repair for some. Evil, however, still ruled in places Hell had not made vapor. Hell had wrought great evil, but now its remaining forces could choose a future unbound by corruption and lies.

  “Great Solok, may I address you as a king?”

  “You may address me as anything that does not make me cleave you in half.”

  “Then, great king Solok, I salute you and thank you for giving us the gift of this shade. Our sun has become hot. I made it so to make it more like Hell and please your leader.”

  “Your sun is no hotter,” Solok scoffed at the false claim of such power over the star. “Your planet’s atmosphere grows warmer because you altered its climate by incinerating this continent’s forests.”

  “It was for victory, great Solok.” Tantabor bowed his head.

  “It was foolish, for your kind. Of heat, I have great tolerance. Not so for wasted time. I can only guess you would be as foolish in battle against greater enemies than are offered, here. So far, I see
no reason to sanction an alliance.”

  “But, king Solok, look what my warriors have brought!” Tantabor rocked his gigantipede’s harness and rode it to the left. Behind him, the captives looked out in a mix of fear and defiance.

  Solok appreciated the defiance. Many were captured, bound, tortured, but unbeaten. Solok believed that demons should only hold captives if they aided a long-term strategy by providing information or some other means. Perpetual imprisonment only bred resentment between captors and prisoners and required greater and greater resources to maintain control. Eventually, prisoners attacked, even if their goal was only brief vengeance and suicide. Solok had no idea Uruk’s experience on Xuxuhr’s hellship added credence to his ideas.

  Solok gained a better view of the prisoners’ bindings. The twine was not woven from simple fibers. The sharp strands cut as a thousand small blades if pulled tight, as in attempting to flee. The bindings were not woven just to hold, but for cruelty.

  “Slaves by the dozen!” Tantabor continued. “Hundreds more can be taken in his name. Is that not a gift that will lessen his burden, and your own?”

  “Burden?” Solok sneered.

  “From toil.”

  “I am a demon. What do I know of toil? Unless you mean lessened need for battle. Why would I shrink from combat? Are you attempting to hide an insult with such a gift and words?”

  “No. No!” Tantabor nearly lost the reins as he raised his spade-like hands to wave away the confusion. He quickly grabbed them and halted his mount. “Not at all, great one! Truly, it is only your glory I seek to build.”