Ascension

by Nicholas Woode-Smith

  The Avenger closed his eyes and let out a rush of air from his thick-set nostrils.

  ‘Our civilisation has fallen, but we must have survivors. More than just traitors and deserters. Someone must remember the dead. Do this for me, my friends. Let me die a selfish death, and then live on to sing of me.’

  ‘You were never a selfish ruler,’ Krag-Larken said. He wore glasses. He had never felt the need to have his eyes replaced with cybernetics. ‘And you aren’t one now. You veil your sacrifice in honour. Don’t lie to us, Avenger. We know you only want us to live.’

  ‘But live for what?’ Krag-Tein asked.

  For what?

  That was the question, wasn’t it?

  No Resh.

  No Vortex.

  No Xank.

  It was all crumbling. Soon enough, nothing would be left.

  ‘For yourselves,’ the Avenger whispered.

  Silence. And then…

  ‘So be it,’ Krag-Tein announced.

  In unison, the band saluted, hands to hearts.

  ‘We live for ourselves,’ Krag-Dai said.

  ‘And for ourselves, we stand by you,’ Krag-Larken followed.

  ‘Against the Reaper. Against the bird-scum. For honour. For vengeance. For loyalty,’ Krag-Tein ended.

  The Avenger let a single tear fall across his face.

  ‘If we are to die, then let us die together.’

  ‘For a memory.’

  ‘For comrades.’

  ‘For Resh.’

  “Exanoids realised that their syn armies were vulnerable. Tech-blockers, rainy weather and all manner of atmospheric interference could stop a syn-battalion in its tracks. So, the United Exanoid Federation worked on a joint-corporate project to develop a new type of soldier. A non-pacifist exanoid.” – Extract of Birth of the Merka by Bak.

  Chapter 11.

  Visions

  The smell of wet rock and iron. The air was blue. A window of thin ice clouded James’ vision. Or at least, it seemed to. A crack of electric blue sent shimmers through the veil.

  James felt that it should be dark. It felt dark. But it wasn’t. He could clearly see, albeit the icy sheen, everything around him. Smooth rock. Moisture collected on the stone surfaces, but it wasn’t raining. The sky was a light show of blues, purples and greens. It was like an abstract painting James had seen in a manor he’d burgled in the Galis corporate district. That painting hadn’t impressed him much then, but this was different. The lights spoke to him. Incomprehensible, sweet nothings straight into his mind.

  Where am I this time?

  James had not had a vivid dream such as this for weeks – since Re’lien arrived. All his dreams had been the usual fare. Frenetic. Bad plot structure. Blissfully stupid. And, mercifully inconsequential.

  But in this dream, he was lucid – like most of his warp-dreams. James lifted his leg, and it responded. Often, he couldn’t walk in these dreams. This was one of the rare visions where he was mobile.

  A crack and boom. More artillery than thunder. More electricity than kinetic. Otherworldly was the best way to describe it, but even then, that was insufficient. It was as if the voices of countless beings shouted all at once from the void.

  James crouched down and stroked the rock floor. Smooth. Wet. But not water. He sniffed the moisture. Odourless. Translucent. James shrugged and moved on.

  He was on a path between smooth rock outcroppings. Spires and canyon walls. Dark grey. Almost black. James walked for what seemed like hours. Wind buffeted against him and he felt cold. Ice infused his veins and James noticed then that he was naked. On Nova Zarxa, he was almost never naked. He relied on thermal cleaners for hygiene, due to the lack of water, so only undressed to put on new clothes and equipment. Now naked, for the first time in a long time, James could see his many scars. Lacerations from knife-fights, punctures from shrapnel, red and pink lines criss-crossing like an excited strait. It wasn’t the lack of clothes that made James feel naked, however, but the lack of a weapon. A Zonian was nothing without his gun. But James’ hand was not cold. He looked at it and saw the worn-black mozar leather and flashing blue core of his Conduit glove. James created a blue flame out of warp energy. It emitted a faint light in the deceiving darkness. It was a comfort. James’ own light in the dark. And as he flickered the flame out of existence, a vortex appeared.

  The multi-coloured lightshow above disappeared in contrast to the bright white-blue of the vortex as it rose into the void above. And as James gazed into it, it roared. James could not help but stagger back and fall to his knees. The vortex sapped him. It shrivelled his innards and made him too empty to puke from the sheer nauseating exposure.

  And then it stopped.

  James rose to his feet, and so did a figure previously blocked by the vortex. A lithe figure. Shorter than him. Raven black hair and pointed ears. A familiar face on a body James had never seen before.

  Re’lien and James stared at each other, naked, from across the empty field of rock where the vortex had once stabbed the heavens. James couldn’t help but allow his vision to wander downwards, but then he caught himself. But not before noting how human Re’lien really looked, despite the colour of her skin.

  Re’lien moved towards James first. Tentative. Slow. But then they both walked towards each other, where the vortex once was.

  ‘Cold weather to be out with so little on,’ Re’lien said. She tried to smile but failed.

  Up close, James’ primal nature dominated, and his vision did wander. But rather than the usual objectives of such a venture, James noted pale blue and white lines across Re’lien’s flesh. Their eyes soon met and James realised she had noticed his scars.

  ‘The lines…’ James started.

  ‘Scars, yes. You have plenty of them yourself. Mine were healed much more efficiently, though, I see. Edal heal much faster than humans, apparently.’

  ‘How did you get them?’

  Re’lien shrugged. ‘I was a prop. A tool by my people for them to ignore their own sins and place them at the feet of a child. This tool they called the Devil Child. For their sins and incompetence, they beat me every day. Maybe it gave them solace. Pleasure. A sense of power. It only gave me anger, fear, resentment, cynicism and…perseverance.’

  James moved closer. His eyes showed a concern he didn’t understand himself. He felt a pain in his gut. Perhaps, empathy.

  Re’lien tensed, and looked as if she wanted to back away, but she didn’t. Her eyes were sad but held the hint of fire. They reflected the light-show in the sky.

  ‘What wars gave you your scars, James Terrin of Zona Nox?’

  ‘I grew up a gangster. I killed a man to enter a family. They saved me and let me live long enough to kill more people. A lot of people tried to kill me back, but…’

  James shrugged.

  ‘They didn’t finish the job,’ Re’lien finished his sentence. She sighed.

  ‘What is this?’

  ‘What is what?’

  Re’lien indicated the rocky outcroppings, the sky, the blue-tinge to the air. ‘All of this. These visions. These dreams. And where is the void? Where is the voice of Grexus?’

  ‘That’s who it is?’

  Re’lien raised her eyebrow. ‘You didn’t know? Or…you know about the voice?’

  ‘The Promised End,’ James recited. ‘That’s what it calls itself.’

  Re’lien silently gasped. James saw her blush, despite the blue skin.

  ‘It was really you in the dream?’

  ‘Where we stood by Galis Lake, as the voice from the void tormented me? Yeah.’

  ‘How? I thought the warp was only showing me a figment of you. A vision. A caricature. How can it connect us to the same dream?’

  James shrugged. ‘Maybe it is not. Maybe, this is my dream, or your dream, and either of us is just an illusion. As you said: a caricature.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Re’lien said, as she rubbed her chin in thought. ‘But what if it is a shared vision?’

  �
�Then it means the warp is trying to tell us something.’

  ‘Tell us what?’

  ‘That we are meant to work together. That there is something beyond the necessities of state that bind us together.’

  As James spoke, his cheeks reddened, despite his meaning being innocent.

  ‘If the warp meant to show us just this vortex, then this vision should have ended,’ Re’lien said, seemingly not noticing James’ blush. ‘If we’re still asleep, then it means that there is something more for us to see.’

  ‘Then let us go find it.’ James began walking towards an opening between the rock spires.

  ‘Wait…’ Re’lien said. James stopped.

  ‘If it is really you here, then I’d like a way of confirming it in the real world. One that will not make me seem mad if it is not the case.’

  ‘Have you received the report from Raven’s World,’ James said.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Say that to me. If I respond with: the liquor shipment is late, then I was in this dream.’

  Re’lien nodded and then jogged up to where James stood. They proceeded side by side towards the opening, which took them through a narrow canyon.

  ‘Lifeless,’ Re’lien said.

  ‘It reminds me of what became of my homeworld. The wasteland by Galis Lake.’

  ‘Perhaps this is a vision of Zona Nox.’

  ‘But no Grexus to torment me.’

  ‘Maybe…’ Re’lien rubbed her chin. ‘Grexus didn’t summon you or me to that vision. His pronouncements of our titles sounded a little surprised. Maybe, he was brought in by the warp as we were.’

  ‘So, the warp seeks to show us something that it doesn’t want Grexus to know.’

  ‘As if the warp wants anything,’ Re’lien scoffed.

  ‘Easier to personify it. Like how we personify nature. And aren’t edal meant to be the mystics?’

  ‘I’m a dissident for a reason, James.’

  James gave a small grin and Re’lien could not help but return it.

  The narrow path opened up abruptly to a ledge. The wind was cool on James’ skin, but not as intense as that from the vortex. From the ledge, James gazed across a familiar sight.

  A blackened vista, sprawling towards the horizon. Buildings, once motley, proud and colourful, scorched by war.

  Galis.

  ‘Then this is Zona Nox. That means we’re in the Teeth of Storms.’

  Re’lien looked at James questioningly.

  ‘A mountain range,’ James said. ‘Infused with the warp-storms from Nova Zarxa. It periodically sends out electro-magnetic pulses. Made maintaining tech on the planet a pain.’

  ‘Would not be conducive for my hobbies,’ Re’lien said.

  James’ vision started to blacken and he blinked. He felt a wave of exhaustion. His body wanted to expire, so he could awake in the real world.

  ‘I think…the warp has shown us everything.’

  ‘Remember the phrase…’

  James succumbed to the void before he could answer.

  

  Re’lien’s heart banged like a bongo-drum. She felt the acidity in her stomach rise into her throat. But she had to know now. Damn the time. Damn what anyone who saw would say.

  She rang James’ doorbell.

  Bleary eyed, James answered. He was wearing much more clothes now than in the vision.

  Re’lien’s voice stopped in her throat.

  What if it was just a dream?

  He’ll think me mad.

  But I have to try…

  ‘Have you, uh…uh…’

  ‘The report from Raven’s World?’ James offered. ‘Yes. And the liquor shipment is late.’

  Re’lien’s heart calmed and she could finally breathe.

  

  ‘What can you tell us about warp-dreams, Krag-Zot?’ James asked.

  ‘In particular,’ Re’lien added. ‘Shared warp-dreams.’

  Krag-Zot’s brow seemed to rise to the top of his head. A comical expression on a face usually so severe and bestial.

  The three of them were in a disused service warehouse in the bowels of Fort Nexus. Scorch marks and dents decorated the walls and floors. Re’lien and James had been using it to practice.

  ‘Warp-dreams?’ Krag-Zot asked. His armour clanked on the geradite floors. ‘Dreams with warp in them? I don’t follow.’

  ‘My sister told me about them,’ Re’lien said. ‘That the warp can connect its users across time and space. That it shows us what we’re meant to see.’

  Krag-Zot looked incredulous, for a bit, and then laughed, a booming laugh.

  ‘Edal mysticism… the warp doesn’t show us anything. It is a tool to be dominated. It isn’t conscious.’

  ‘Quite rich to mock mysticism, immortal areq.’ James smirked. ‘Your scars are not the sign of a materialistic culture.’

  Krag-Zot stopped laughing. His face darkened.

  ‘There is a big difference between edal mysticism and the sacred rites of my people, boy-mancer. Now, tell me about these so-called warp-dreams.’

  James looked to Re’lien and she nodded. He began.

  ‘It started out with normal dreams, except…more vivid. More real. They were of things from my past. But things were different in some ways. It was as if something wanted to show me the truth within the truth. After those, I started dreaming about a man – as if I was a man. A Trooper from just after the Fall of Earth. Smith investigated him and found that he did exist. In those dreams, I wasn’t aware of myself. I saw myself as Kurt. My latest dreams…’

  James looked to Re’lien to continue.

  ‘We’ve seen each other and even spoken to each other in the dreams. Two dreams now. We confirmed that we weren’t just illusions after speaking in the dream and remembering a password. In the first dream, we were with a voice that I am certain belongs to the Imperial Martyr, Grexus of Xerl…’

  Krag-Zot remained silent, but his expression spoke volumes. Raw hatred crossed his face. James had fought Krag-Zot almost to the death and he had never seen such rage cross the ancient areq’s white face. Re’lien noticed and stopped speaking.

  ‘Grexus,’ Krag-Zot growled. ‘That cur…that demon. The Reaper has not taken him yet for what he did to Resh. The gods truly do not care for justice, do they?’

  ‘We are the swords of justice, Krag-Zot,’ James said. ‘And we’ll be the ones to put Grexus down. For Resh and for Zona Nox.’

  Krag-Zot didn’t seem convinced. He took a seat on a geradite block used for strength testing. ‘What was in the second dream?’

  ‘A vortex,’ James said. Krag-Zot immediately looked up, eyes bright with surprise.

  ‘Do you know something about it?’ James asked. ‘In the dream, it was located in the Teeth of Storms on Zona Nox.’

  ‘I’ve seen a similar vortex in an earlier dream without James. I was dreaming from the point of view of…an old friend…I think I was witnessing his first failed rebellion on Ter’un…’

  ‘You knew Kei?’ Krag-Zot asked, slapping his metal hands on his metal thighs. It seems he was having a lot of surprises today.

  ‘Yes,’ Re’lien answered, tentatively.

  ‘And you say you saw a vortex in your dream? How similar did it look to the one in your latest dream?’

  ‘The Ter’un one was thinner, but taller. A darker shade of warp-blue. It felt weaker, however. Like something was missing. It also relied on warpmancers to remain active. In the later dream, only James and I were present.’

  ‘Then they really did it,’ Krag-Zot whispered to himself. ‘They did it.’

  James was about to speak when he noticed tears stream down Krag-Zot’s face.

  ‘They did it and it was too late. Oh, uncaring gods, how could we get so far for so little?’

  ‘What did they do? What is it?’ James asked, keeping his distance just a bit.

  ‘If your dreams are more than just figments of a fevered mind, boy-mancer, then you saw my people’s Godkiller. The building bl
ock for the Kei Conspiracy’s very own Godkiller Project. When the Imperials were purging our domains across the stars millenniums ago, we used our first colony to construct a weapon that could siphon the warp-energy from the Martyrs. It was to harness the power of the warp-storms that gave the Martyrs their initial power, and then turn it back on them. From fire, a sword is forged, but enough fire can char and melt even the greatest blade. That colony is now your Zona Nox.’

  ‘So…you invaded my world to retrieve this Godkiller weapon?’

  ‘We were going to use old Resh as bait. We suspected that Grexus would come to cash-in his investments after blighting us epochs ago. We needed Zona Nox as the trap itself, to trap him in a warp-storm of our own making and then finally slay him.’

  ‘But Zona Nox fell…’ James couldn’t hide the venom in his voice. ‘Why didn’t you seek to negotiate with us? Why invade? Why kill us when we had a common foe?’

  ‘I was not a high-ranking Immortal, boy-mancer. The Avenger had his own plans. I was assigned to keep Smith under control. Fine job of that I did, you would say with your sarcastic-tongue.’

  ‘Smith knew about the Godkiller?’

  ‘He did. He studied it extensively. He didn’t find it worthy. He respected Kei immensely, but ultimately thought his methods were flawed. That destruction of the Council would have to come from outside of Imperial space and that the key to the Godkiller project was not the number of warpmancers powering it, but the way it was used.’

  ‘How is it meant to be used?’ Re’lien asked.

  Krag-Zot shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I doubt he does either. He abandoned studying it a long time ago. He shifted his attention to you, boy-mancer.’

  James resisted rolling his eyes. Re’lien spoke.

  ‘So, you don’t know anything about warp-dreams?’

  ‘No, kin of my foes. But maybe that is to be expected. In my culture, we dominate the warp. We force it to our whim. For James and perhaps for you, who were moulded by the warp as much as you mould it… perhaps you two have a much greater connection to the warp, and each other. Listen to the visions. Observe them. Be careful of Grexus, if it really is him. And despite my primeval desire to strangle you for the colour of your skin, allow me to teach you what I can.’