Emergence: Chapter 32

“Otor was right,” Havn's voice blared through the com as Xaos listened to the transmission from Oblivion again, “the Adjeti are alive, and he is in talks with them now. Wait, hang on-” The transmission ended with shots fired and a static crackle; something had fired on the Xaosians. In Xaos's mind, the only logical answer would be that Otor had betrayed them. Logical that he would do so, Xaos berated himself, but he had always deemed Otor to have been honourable.

Luckily, he had a backup plan.

Rising from his throne, he strode over to the door and threw it open wide. Ignoring the two guards outside, he continued walking, wisely assuming that they would follow. A few seconds of silence passed, before one of the Guards, Atil, asked, “Where are we going, my lord?”

There was a quiet whisper in Xaos's ear, before he answered, “Buun.”

Even though he could not see Atil, Xaos knew that his forehead would furrow in the way that only lesser people do. “Why, sir?”

Xaos smiled. “Because you were right. You said that the Adjeti could not be trusted, you hated them; I saw you say it.” The whispering in his ear continued. “They betrayed us. We will better them; the Pyrkagia are their ancient enemy, we can recruit them, I'm sure.”

The other guard, Fugada, chipped in. “When will we be there?”

“Soon, don't worry your little minds.” Xaos smiled. “When we get in orbit, we'll go down in a Titan and meet the Primary in his temple on the Mata continent.” He beckoned to the guards to keep up. “Let's get to the ship ready.”

As he made his way to the ship, he took a quick detour to his personal vault in the centre of The Dominion. “Wait here.” The guards did as he commanded while he entered his pin-code and stepped into the vault.

The vault was large, larger than any of the chambers on the flagship, and housed an automated manufacturing plant. Conveyor-belts turned and whirred as robotic arms hissed and fizzed as they crafted what Xaos liked to call “Inducers”; small devices to keep those they were attached to under control. Even now, almost all of his troops had one embedded in their ear. Walking over to the belts, he found a complete Inducer; a small silver disc. He placed a handful of them in his pocket, before turning and leaving the vault. He beckoned his two guards towards him and stalked off in the direction of the hangar bay, knowing exactly how to recruit the Pyrkagia.

Moving the Inducers around in his pocket, he smiled confidently; he was in control.

Or at least, that was what the silver in his ear whispered to him.

Emergence: Chapter 31

On the surface, Otor was escorted out of the Titan vessel and given a hero's welcome. Cheers echoed around Oblivion's capital of Tayah, and he raised his arms half-heartedly. With no exoskeleton to cover his skin, the Adjeti around could see the scars and the burns he had sustained over centuries. Whether it had been a glancing bullet, a haphazardly swung knife, or the prolonged torture Xaos had put him under, it was all mapped out over his red skin, much darker than any other Adjeti's here.

Most of the Xaosians remained in the Titan, but Guran followed gingerly. Otor looked back when he heard the young Xaosian's footsteps, and beckoned for him to join them. He jogged for a moment, before standing only slightly behind Otor and removing his helmet. The clean air of Oblivion reached out and touched his silver scales and red eyes, before sneaking its way into his body and refreshing him fully; the lad had never known anything other than the vacuum of space and the pollutants of Xaos.

As Otor reached the end of the ramp, he hesitated; is this all real? All too good? After all this time, could this really be my home? One more footstep would confirm it either way; if it was just a dream, his foot touching the ground could delete this fantasy. But if it was real...

His boot met solid ground.

He took a step back as a gasp escaped his lungs; it was real. He looked around at the gathering Adjeti and smiled awkwardly; the first true one he'd had in centuries. One Adjeti, exoskeleton covering him from feet to neck, came over to him and extended a hand. Otor eyed him up; the gold markings on his exoskeleton matched Otor's faded ones, identifying him as a fellow Warchief, with the piercing blue eyes and the mane of naturally-white hair defining him fully.

“Keinam,” Otor took the hand and shook it, “It has been far too long.”

Keinam nodded and grinned. “It really has.” He turned to the ever-growing audience and yelled, “An Adjeti has returned from beyond the Oblivion Gateway! We are saved!”

The cheer of the crowds felt like an earthquake to Otor's ears, louder than anything he heard on Xaos. Louder even than the roars of “traitor” and “burn it!” that had too often penetrated the night. His knees nearly buckled, but he held onto Guran's shoulder.

“Our saviour,” Keinam continued, “is none other than Warchief Otor, the one who sealed the Gateway to save our world from the Pyrkagia. And now, we shall wipe them out!”

As the cheers continued, Keinam walked with Otor back into the Titan ship. “Let's get somewhere quiet,” he had said, “your ship will do.”

As they entered, Otor dismissed the Xaosians to the cockpit as Keinam sat down on a small bench. “How has Oblivion fared in my absence?”

Keinam sighed. “The first few decades were the worst; cut off from all our trade routes, we had to adapt. Slowly. We tried to build another Gateway, or a small portal stable enough to send one of us to somewhere else in the Empire. We didn't have the resources for the Gateway, nor for another intergalactic craft; lord knows we tried but the older one is still, as you must remember, adrift somewhere in the dark. The portals; no-one ever came back, or even arrived at the coordinates. They just vanished. Died in the void.” He looked at Otor, the memories hard to bare. “Our brothers...the Warchiefs...are dead. Following our failures, riots. But I brought order to our world, united us all with the promise of vengeance against the Pyrkagia. And you've made sure that I can honour that promise. After I announced this intention, we tripled our space-force, upgraded them all and held them ready.” He looked at Otor's scars. “What did that to you?”

“Xaosians.” Otor said bluntly. “They tortured me until I made them a smaller version of the World-Burner. They tortured me until I agreed to fight with them in a war they started. And then they tortured me until I promised them an army of Adjeti.”

Keinam stared at Otor and saw the suffering in his eyes. “And will you honour your promise?”

Otor bit his lip and briefly considered it. “No. I want to kill them all.”

Footsteps.

Otor turned to see a Xaosian by the door, who must have heard their entire conversation. Eyes wide, he fled, but his run did not last long as Keinam's arm twisted and shot a blood-bullet through the his skull. “Shall we make a start?”

Otor held a hand in front of his brother-in-arms. “Spare Guran, the one who accompanied me. He's not like the rest.”

Keinam paused, before nodding. “Of course.”

Otor let his exoskeleton cover him, head to toe, and twisted the left arm into the cannon form. He led Keinam into the cockpit where Guran approached them, leaving three other Xaosians bent over a console. “Guran, get behind me.” Otor commanded, the young Xaosian obeying, unquestioning. Keinam fired on the leftmost Xaosian, Otor on the right, before Guran drew a pistol and shot down the remaining soldier. “What are you doing?” Otor rounded on Guran, as Keinam went to check the bodies.

“We heard what you said,” Guran dropped the pistol, seeming conflicted over what he had done. “and you're right. Those who did this to you must be punished. But not our race, not our species.”

“I will destroy every Xaosian inbetween me and Xaos.” Otor vowed. “And I have an army to help me now. We will return to the Empire and right its wrongs with whatever means we see fit. And you shall join me.”

Guran nodded as Keinam returned. “They managed to broadcast a transmission before we silenced them. A signal booster and an AI somehow configured together to make that possible. Wish we'd coded something like that, eh?”

“The Xaosians do have a strange AI system in place,” Guran observed, “I never could make sense of it.”

“Neither could I.” Otor agreed. “It's like it's constantly recoding itself; much too advanced for any common use aside from strategic or military operations.”

“Ah well, let the Xaosians have their machines.” Keinam led them out of the Titan. “We have another issue.” He tapped the implant in his throat and listened for a moment; most Adjeti warriors had com-units implanted in their throats. “You were followed.”

“What by?” Otor clenched his fists; that wasn't meant to happen.

“Pyrkagia; a basic Hive-Ship with four of the insects.” Keinam almost hissed the words. “Crews are bringing it here; we need to give the people a...demonstration of our intentions.”

Otor nodded, before turning to Guran. “You stay back, you hear me? One of them could kill you, four would desecrate you entirely.” He nodded and stayed behind Otor.

The ovoid Hive-Ship was towed by three of the Adjeti Wingships and, as crowds parted from Tayah's city-square, unceremoniously dumped onto the browning-grass. The hull cracked from the impact, and a squadron of Adjeti surrounded the ship. Keinam waved them away, before assigning one to keep Guran safe. “Pyrkagia! We have your ship surrounded! Come out now!”

Otor moved slowly closer to the Pyrkagia ship, before the Pyrkagia emerged. Four, just as Keinam had been told. And Otor recognised one of them, and he could tell that she recognised him. “You.” Otor said, pointing at her. “You said I was wrong. Well, look around. Who's wrong now?”

The Pyrkagias seemed to leer at him, but did not say anything; Otor knew just as well as she did that the Pyrkagia here were already dead, only being used as scouts for the Primary.

“Do you surrender for execution?” Keinam asked; Otor was sure that he knew they would not, especially as one had turned its bugs to stone. When silence answered, he asked a different question. “State your names.”

“Amnich.” This was the one, Otor noted, that was both the largest, and the one who turned his bugs to stone.

“Pyrious.” The Pyrkagias said his name only quietly, and Otor barely heard it.

“Lutun.” The smallest of the quartet, his voice wavered as he spoke; unusual for one of them.

“Devilclash.” Otor smiled when she spoke; now he knew his aggressor's name, he may feel satisfied when he killed her. It would be a much more personal vengeance than it would be against a nameless drone.

Keinam once again twisted his arm into its cannon form. “Amnich. Pyrious. Lutun. Devilclash. For your species' crimes, you are sentenced to death.”

“No.” Amnich leapt at Keinam, who twisted out of the way and fired at the bugs protecting the Hive-Stone.

The other three sprang into action, with Pyrious running over to Keinam, and Devilclash and Lutun running over to Otor. Going on the defensive, the exoskeleton closed around both Adjeti's mouths, shielding them from any bugs that may take a wander inside. Instead, the Pyrkagia targeted the eyes. Devilclash lunged for the eyes, while Lutun's bugs secreted an acid which attempted to burn through the natural armour. Otor tried to block Devilclash's attack, slapping the bugs away from his eyes, but he fell down to the floor as Adjeti all around stayed away, held back by Enforcers.

Keinam dodged his aggressors' attacks and kept firing on the bugs, annihilating more and more with every blast. They tried to avoid, but Amnich's stone armour was near-enough destroyed now; it may provide protection, but it was shit at evading. Taking the offensive, Keinam snapped his exoskeleton back around his hands, dodged Pyrious's usual clumsy attack and smashed a fist into Amnich's armour, cracking the stones. Amnich took a step back, throwing a punch of his own. Keinam blocked that punch with one arm, before shattering the armour around the Hive-Stone with his second. He felt the Pyrkagias's fear as he grabbed the Hive-Stone. As his fingers wrapped around, his exoskeleton changed and shifted until it was the same murky-green as the Hive-Stone. “Only Hive-Stone destroys Hive-Stone.” Keinam muttered, before crushing Amnich in his palm. The bugs stopped in mid-air and fell to the ground; the only thing granting them life was the Hive-Stone.

Seeing Otor's situation, Keinam ignored Pyrious and touched his hand to Otor's shoulder, pulling him up. Otor's armour slowly became the same consistency of the Hive-Stone, just like Keinam's. Devilclash gasped, before diving out of Otor's way as he swung a wild fist. Grabbing Keinam, Otor pulled himself up, joints aching like never before. He thought he heard a crack in his knees, but with the crowd's noise, he couldn't be certain.

Deciding now to deal with Pyrious, Keinam extended part of his exoskeleton into a blade, snapped it off with his free hand and threw it like a javelin at Pyrious's Hive-Stone, watching with satisfaction as the clumsy Pyrkagias fell, stone shattered and dead. Lutun and Devilclash were still putting up a fight, Devilclash knocking Keinam down to the floor. Otor barely dodged Lutun's punch, before he was able to form a blade around one arm and slice Lutun's Hive-Stone in half.

Devilclash stood over a downed Keinam, before turning to Otor. “Please, Otor. Don't do this. Punish those who did this to you. Not our species.”

“We did nothing to provoke your kind trying to destroy us.” Otor spat. “We have proof, footage, that Pyrkagia fired the World-Burner on Orbus, framing us for it, hoping that the backlash would do your dirty work for you. You were cowards, and you nearly succeeded. All around the Empire, my people were hunted down like dogs while you looked on. We will not give you mercy, because you gave us none.”

Devilclash relaxed and stared at Otor. “You're right.” She nodded. “I never knew about that deception, but we did hunt you all down. Obviously I've lived with the humans for too long, because I've developed a conscience which my peers do not have.” Her voice stayed level and strong when she concluded with, “You should kill us all.”

She grabbed her Hive-Stone and passed it to Otor, who took it suspiciously. He wasn't sure if it was genuine, or just another Pyrkagia's trap. The bugs moved in a nodding motion, and Otor cracked the Hive-Stone in his hand. No response.

He felt no satisfaction when he split the stone apart, and neither did the silent crowd. Even Keinam bowed his head in respect to Devilclash, as she tried to atone for the sins her forefathers had wreaked.

He bowed his own head in mourning, before beckoning to Keinam. “The Pyrkagia are no threat right now. If we are gain the support to eliminate them, we must head to the Empire's new capital: New Orbus.”

Keinam tap his throat and spoke into the embedded com. “Ready the fleet.”

Emergence: Chapter 30

After being overtaken by the Xaosian soldiers, the windows on the Evacuation craft were blacked out entirely; Tors had no idea where they were being taken, but the voyage seemed to take an age without any sense of time or distance. The Xaosians had put guards outside of each cabin, and the residents of which were violently “encouraged” to keep silent. Cane, Pandora and Emola exchanged glances with Tors, but he couldn't read what they were meant to convey.

When they were unloaded onto a planet, Tors could see exactly what planet it was through the high barbed-wire fence; Irin. The domed cities gave it away; he wished he was in there, rather than an open-air prison camp. There was no-where to sit or sleep but the hard ground; essentially, the prison camp was a large square of land surrounded by a barbed-wire electric fence. Xaosians guarded the outside, and patrolled the inside, guns in hand; Tors couldn't identify the type, he had never been interested in guns. Food was distributed by various cooks, who presumably were doing this against their will, travelling from the nearby city to deliver the small food rations.

Sat to the left of Tors was Cane, with Pandora and Emola on his right. Cane looked troubled, moreso than any others; he was the only Raanian here, perhaps the only human; Tors couldn't see any others, anyway, but he hadn't really been desperate to find one. While Cane was lonely in terms of species, he also missed his wife and child on Raan. Hearing about the quakes from whisperings by the guards had stunned him into silence and anger. No tears, just rage at his home being destroyed; he had no idea if they had survived, but his optimistic streak hoped they were. His realist side, however, accepted them as gone, but he tried ignore it.

A small Scaliman child shuffled past Tors. Tors smiled at him, and the kid tried to smile back, before one of the Xaosian guards jabbed him in the back with their rifle. “Move it kid, get back to pen seven.” The kid fell to his knees and, as he tried to pick himself up, he looked at Tors, his smile sliding off his tear-streaked face. “Move!” The guard forced him up, and pushed him, the kid nearly falling down again.

“Hey!” Cane stood up. “Leave him alone!”

The guard pointed his gun at Cane, who strode over to the guard. The kid ran away, scared of both the armour-clad guard and the large, loud man. “Cane, stop.” Tors placed his hand on Cane's shoulder, but he continued walking.

The Xaosian shifted stance so that it was somehow both defensive and mocking. “I'd sit back down, if I was you. Both of you.” As Tors realised that the voice was female, she gestured to both of them with her gun. “Now.”

Cane swung a punch. The Xaosian blocked, returned one in the gut. “Sit down!” She yelled. Other prisoners rose up. Shouting and roaring soon turned to screaming as gunfire pierced the night. The Xaosian pushed Tors aside and shot Cane in the knee. He screamed and fell to the ground. Without hesitation, she shot at other prisoners before smashing the butt of the gun into Emola's face, and kicking Tors down to the ground. “Enough!” She yelled over the sounds of violence. She then spoke into a com. “I authorise deadly force.”

Screams were silenced, one by one. Some surrendered, some died; it was one of two choices, there was no middle-ground. Cane clutched his knee, gingerly dabbing at the blood with a piece of blue fabric torn off of his shirt. The guard came over, and Cane backed away. “I only want to see.” She moved his hand out of the way, looked at the damage, and called for a medic from the nearby city.

“Why bother helping?” Pandora asked.

“I don't want you to die.” Tors noticed that a small badge on her com identified the Xaosian as Kivina. “I just want you to do as I say. Xaos hasn't said what to do with you, but he'll probably want you alive. For his army.”

“We'll never join him. Not after this.” Tors gestured around the camp.

Kivina gave a sad smile. “I said that once. But then,” she pointed at a small silver device in her ear, “he can be very persuasive.”

Emergence: Chapter 29

The Hive-Ship was much more spacious than necessary; the original Hive-Ships were just large enough for 5 Hive-Stones in the main ship body, and the rest of the bugs were in a containment chamber behind it. Now, they were roughly the same size as any small human transport ship. However, unlike other transport ships, this Hive-Ship was simply one large room, with the pilot at the front, and the other two Pyrkagia wandering around in front of Devilclash in silence; fear was a great silencer.

“Are we close now?” Devilclash broke the silence.

The pilot, Pyrious, turned to her and simply said “yes”, before turning back away again. He was never one for conversation.

“How much further?” The gruff voice of Amnich blared out, sounding annoyed at the pilot.

“A couple of minutes, if that.” Pyrious too seemed annoyed, but at the questions.

Devilclash despised most other Pyrkagia; on the surface, they seemed too shallow, emotionless. While she knew that they weren't like that on the inside, she couldn't help but feel a growing distance from them as she further integrated herself into the human-dominated society on New Orbus. She assumed that humans must see her as she sees the rest of her kind, but her hatred now stemmed beyond that; they brought about the downfall of a race, and she still had no idea how. When she had first heard what the Primary had said, she assumed that it was just firing the World-Burner at Oblivion. But his tone, and his phrasing, implied that they had done more to influence events; what else had they covered up in the locked-away sections of the Swarm. She hated the lies; they pained her like a knife twisting in her Hive-Stone.

“There's a ship there!” Pyrious's surprise pierced her thoughts, and she jolted to attention.

“What type of ship?” Amnich walked up to the pilot, as did Devilclash.

“Titan-Class, Xaosian.” Pyrious was back to business.

“Stay back.” Devilclash ordered. “The Adjeti I encountered is almost certainly on that ship.”

The screen in front of the pilot zoomed in on the Oblivion Gateway, as he ran his hand over an embedded sphere in the control panel. “There.” The other Pyrkagia, Lutun, pointed at the screen. Devilclash looked closer and saw what she had feared; Otor, and he was inputting codes into the Gateway.

“Kill them.” Devilclash ordered. “Now!”

“No,” Amnich commanded, “we have our orders; we follow them to Oblivion. If there is any foul play, it seems to be being undone right there.” The Gateway shimmered, and Otor went back into the ship. “Continue towards them. Follow them through the portal.”

The Titan disappeared into the portal, and the Hive-Ship followed slowly behind. They travelled in silence, as if the smallest sound could give away their position. Devilclash watched as the stars disappeared when they entered the portal. The darkness, while it should be fear-inducing, was actually quite beautiful in a strange way. Perhaps it was the shimmering nature of it, or the fact that it vaguely reflected the Hive-Ship's light. Through the Swarm, Devilclash could sense that Amnich, despite his brave front, was just as afraid as Lutun. Surprisingly, Pyrious felt the same as her about the darkness; he just stared out the front window at it, encapsulated by its random movements and ripples.

The darkness cleared to reveal Oblivion.

The Titan had disappeared into an ever-growing cloud of space-traffic around the golden planet. Devilclash gasped involuntarily and took a step back; the Adjeti were alive.

“Get us out of here, Pyrious.” Lutun ordered softly, his voice trembling.

“Of course.” Pyrious grabbed the nav-sticks again and the ship began to turn.

Something struck the ship, knocking the Pyrkagia apart. The Hive-Stones called them back together as the ship continued to rock. “What was that?” Amnich was terrified; it showed in the Swarm.

Three ships came into sight; red and gold boomerangs bristling with weaponry unlike any Devilclash had ever seen. They had no propulsion system that she could see, but she could see the single Adjeti in the cockpit; even from this distance, she could see the hatred on his face. And she understood his hatred, because she felt it too.

Calls for the Pyrkagia to surrender were answered, and the ships released some sort of laser-tether and dragged the Hive-Ship towards Oblivion.

*

As the Hive-Ship was dragged through Oblivion by the three Adjeti ships, Devilclash and the others sat in silence; they knew that they had nowhere to go. Escape from the ship would be easy, but the Adjeti would be upon them straight away: dead. Stay on the ship, land with the Adjeti: dead. The only thing left to them now was the Swarm.

As Devilclash entered it, she could feel the Primary watching them. The Swarm felt warm, as if agitated; understandable. “Primary!” She figured that her call must have sounded desperate, but she didn't care right now. “Send help! Please!” She could her cries echoed through the Swarm by Amnich, Lutun and Pyrious, word-for-word.

And the answer was “no”.

Clear and plain, Devilclash knew she was going to die. As she exited the Swarm, she glanced over at the others with all of her eyes, and she saw that they all did the same. Fear was a great bonder.

Emergence: Chapter 28

After centuries of persecution, Otor felt old. Constant fleeing from town to city, city to town took more than a lifetime of energy from him. Hiding in the shadows left his joints ache from the hours of staying still, and the constant fear of discovery left his nerves broken. In all the centuries since he saved Oblivion, he found himself stranded on Xaos, the first place his escape capsule took him. Stealing food in a dull-brown shroud helped him blend into the the slums of the cities, but wherever he went, soon enough an angry mob showed up. Flames held on archaic wooden torches: apparently a source of fear, but Otor never understood; if you're going to attack in the night, why bring a light along? It just gives the enemy an advantage that it wouldn't have otherwise. Otor, however, wasn't going to complain; the light granted by fire had saved him more than once.

But, he reflected as his ship reached its destination, it took only one screw-up to get captured. Go down one damn alleyway, and there was a Xaosian Soldier troupe waiting. By the time they hauled him to the capital, Otor had resigned himself to his fate; he had nothing to lose. But instead of going to the chopping block, he was taken to Lord Xaos instead.

His ship docked, and he stood up ready to exit. Touching his eye, he found it sensitive to the touch, but fine other than that. The airlock opened, and Otor stepped out of his ship and into the hangar bay of The Dominion. Xaosians, like insects, were already swarming the smaller craft, greeting the returned. Otor ignored them; he had no time for the insignificant. He jogged through the vast ship, ignoring the Xaosians who stopped to stare, or those who hurled abuse at him; not all of them agreed with him being allowed to live, even if he was bringing a huge advantage to their side.

Xaos's chambers were guarded by two large Xaosians, who each wielded a ceremonial halberd. “Move.” Otor commanded. “I need to see Lord Xaos immediately.”

One Xaosian looked at him suspiciously and raised the halberd slightly, before the other stopped him. “Of course,” said the Xaosian, gently holding the other's halberd back, “no worries.”

Otor thanked them both, giving the opposer a glare as he went past. As the doors to Xaos's chambers closed behind him, he heard the two arguing in hushed tones. He smiled.

“Otor.” Xaos sat behind a desk in his twin-parabola-styled throne. “It seems you kept up your end of the bargain, just as I have kept mine. Thank you.”

Otor suddenly remembered to kneel; they had taught him with pain. “And thank you my lord.”

“Stand, Otor.” Otor obliged as Xaos continued. “It is time for the second part of our bargain.” Xaos tilted his head slightly. “You can deliver, can't you?”

“Yes.” Otor thought it was obvious; Xaos had spared his life for two services; killing the Lord, and gathering him an army. “Once I get to the Oblivion Gate, I can save my race, and you will get your army.”

Xaos smiled. “Good.” He stood, and extended a hand to Otor.

Otor took the hand, but noticed something silver and unfamiliar in Xaos's ear. He pointed at it. “What's that?”

Xaos slapped his hand down. “None of your concern. We tried your weapon, though. The Earth-Scorcher.”

Otor was filled with sudden dread; he had built it for them, but he never expected them to use it; obviously he had underestimated Xaos. “Where did you use it?”

“Raan,” Xaos grinned, “right on the Sea of Oil.”

“And the damage?”

“Quakes across the entire world began after the flames reached the core.”

Otor grimaced; he couldn't give anything away to this maniac. He nodded forcefully. “Now get me to the Oblivion Gateway. Where are you headed?”

“I will send you to the Oblivion Gateway with a fleet of Titans.” Xaos seemed unsure. “As for my next move; I must deal with the situation with the Narcsia survivors. Then, I will move on New Orbus.”

Otor nodded; now he knew exactly where to find Xaos. “Good. Get me a crew. I will be waiting in hangar bay.” Without waiting for a response, he left the room, noticing the glare from one of the guards outside the door.

As he went round the corner, Otor stopped and leant against a wall, head in hand; Xaos had used the Earth-Scorcher, something Otor never imagined he would actually do. Swearing to himself, he remembered as the Xaosians used the pain inducers to force him to build the weapon. He remembered the testing on one of Xaos's moons, the chaos it had wreaked. And he used it on the one planet he should not have; Raan. The prison world for the Corlens, the Adjeti had battled them for decades in a war that felt like a bloody stalemate, until finally, the Adjeti gained an upper hand and drove them into the core of Raan.

Otor shook his head and continued to the hangar bay; When I restore my race, I will kill Xaos first.

*

The Titan on which Otor travelled reached the Oblivion Gateway much quicker than he expected; space travel had improved dramatically since he was last able to use it, and this left him in awe of the adoption and evolution of technology. From the AIs controlling and regulating the life-support and gravity systems, to the upgraded L-Drives, Otor respected those who took the technology given to them by the Adjeti, and built upon it. Upon realising these advancements, he couldn't help but feel excitement to see how the Adjeti had upgraded their own technology.

The Oblivion Gateway. Otor could see it now as the Titan stopped next to it. A giant metal octagonal ring which free-floated in space, surrounding a shimmering black surface, which stood out from the rest of space due to its depthlessness. There was one single operating station, and that was where Otor had to go.

A Xaosian by the name of Guran helped Otor into a spacesuit. Otor liked Guran; the young Xaosian seemed to be fascinated with the Adjeti and, while Otor sometimes found his persistent questioning irritating, he was pleased that someone seemed to think that the Adjeti were heroes, even questioning the nature of the attack on Orbus, which the Adjeti were blamed for. Apparently, many scholars also questioned it, but Otor didn't give a damn about them; Guran was a nice guy, and one was of the few Xaosians Otor had no quarrel with.

With the spacesuit on, Guran wished him luck, which Otor accepted. The airlock opened and Otor swam out, getting used to the sensation once more. He pushed himself over to the operations platform, and imagined a clang as his feet touched down. Pulling off the glove on his suit, he pressed his palm to the control panel; only Adjeti could use the Gateway's controls due to the DNA recognition.

The Oblivion Gateway was, essentially, a portal to the space near Oblivion, which resided in an different solar system to the rest of the Empire. It worked by sending whatever entered it to the coordinates programmed into the Gateway. However, an unfortunate oversight left the coordinate panels working on only one side of the portal, cutting Oblivion off from the rest of the Empire, after Otor himself changed the coordinates to save his world from the World-Burner. The World-Burner was fired into the Oblivion Gate in retaliation for the supposed Adjeti attack on Orbus, presumably decimating Oblivion.

However, the portal actually led to a long-dead world, where it was the safe for the World-Burner to be fired, saving Oblivion. The screen in front of him flashed on, and he changed the coordinates of the portal; he remembered them exactly after all these years. The shimmering darkness disappeared just for a moment, before it returned once more. Otor leapt off the platform and swam back to his ship. As he arrived, he couldn't help but smile as he pulled off the spacesuit and the ship sped through the portal.

A darkness surrounded the ship and Otor could feel his fellow passengers' fear; they didn't trust him at the best of times, and especially not now with their lives in his hands. A few minutes of tension followed before they emerged out of the darkness.

Satellites were strewn around the space around the golden orb that was, as Otor recognised it, home. Using the screens, he zoomed in on the planet and saw ships and aerospace vehicles flitting about in heavily-urbanised areas.

Oblivion was alive.

Emergence: Chapter 27

The hive was unsettled, and it had every right to be, as Devilclash drudged her way through the swamps of Proda. She ached everywhere; something she hadn't thought possible, but she thanked her bugs for it; the crash-landing down onto Buun could have been much worse. Her hive had only just finished metamorphosing back from their defensive rocky forms, a transformation that is almost instantaneous and painless when turning to stone, but the complete opposite when turning back.

She hadn't been prepared for an Adjeti, she knew that. Especially not Otor. A quick scan of the few Adjeti-related memories available in the Swarm revealed that he was one of the eighteen Adjeti Warchiefs; highly trained warrior-kings who dominated the battlefield; must have got rusty in his old age, Devilclash observed. Unless, she later thought, he wanted them to underestimate their true power.

Proda was not, as one may think, a city. Proda is, in fact, just one of many Biomes that the Pyrkagia have seen fit to divide their world up into. Proda was the swamplands in the East of the continent Gyrara, unfortunately far away from the Primary's body. Luckily for Devilclash, there was a direct Tertiary Pyrkagia in every Biome. While there was only one Primary, and one Secondary, there were hundreds of Tertiaries, acting more like com-devices than actual Pyrkagia.

She hoped one was close.

It felt close in the Swarm, but whether that was close in local, or planetary, terms, she had no idea. She just had to keep going. With all of her hive back to being bugs again, she took flight. The hive converged around the hive-stone and lifted it into the air, wings buzzing as they became a solid multi-part living cloud. Never going higher than the treetops, her movement was still restricted to the makeshift paths between them, but she could cover ground so much faster this way.

There was very little life on Buun besides the Pyrkagia; there was no need for it. The Pyrkagia were herbivores, and there was no lack of vegetation. All other life on Buun was unnecessary and hence removed; the ancient Pyrkagia attitude. Devilclash felt that the eradication of all that life was the greatest sin of her ancestors, and she silently and secretly despised the Primary for it.

The Primary was originally the very first Pyrkagias in existence, the one who gained intelligence and pulled all of the hives into his own larger Swarm. The Secondary, of course, was the second Pyrkagias that formed. The original Primary, however, died in the Adjeti war, and the current Primary was the original Secondary, ascending to the position after a period of great turmoil for the Pyrkagia, cut loose from their brethren.

She entered a clearing in the trees and let herself fall back to the ground; she was at the right place. The hive-stone was caught just before it hit the ground, and she reformed herself into her human form. While she felt none of the stigma of having a non-humanoid form when on Buun, she preferred it to her natural cloud-based cluster; it was more elegant. In the clearing, there were four stone columns arranged in a square pattern and, in the centre, a small stone seat.

She landed in front of the open temple and walked over to the seat, upon which sat a single hive-stone; that was all a tertiary was: a hive-stone used as a com to communicate directly with the Primary. She touched her hive-stone to the tertiary and delved into the Swarm.

She could see memories pass her by as she waited inside the Swarm for the Primary. Happy Pyrkagia passed her by, along with their sad moments, their most intimate moments, and their anger. She could feel anger throughout the Swarm; they had seen her memories of Otor already.

“I know why you're here, Devilclash.” The voice of the Primary came from all around her; to all intents and purposes, he was the Swarm. “And I've already taken measures.”

“Those measures may not be enough.” Devilclash could not put emotion into her speech inside the Swarm, but she felt desperate to get her point across. “The Adjeti said that there are more; that his race will be restored!”

“And implied that Oblivion was not destroyed, yes. I heard it all. It is entirely possible that we failed in destroying Oblivion and their race. Unlikely, but possible; we and Ardican fired the World-Burner through the Oblivion Gate, their portal. A portal which we have no idea how to work.”

Intrigued, Devilclash asked, “What are your measures, then? And we weren't on the World-Burner, were we?”

“Don't believe the tales that humans tell; of that day, they say what we wanted them to. The downfall of the Adjeti was our grand undertaking, and that's all I will say about it. My measures; a single surveillance ship. Until we find out what is happening, we cannot stage a slaughter of them yet. And you, for all your interest, shall lead it. A ship will be dispatched to you.”

Devilclash felt herself pushed from the Swarm and felt herself reel at what she had learnt; what else had the Pyrkagia done that the Primary had covered up?

Emergence: Chapter 26

Tors had never been off of Narcsia before, let alone in the nauseating embrace of L-Drive travel. He sat in a corner and held his head in his hands as an invisible blade twisted in his brain, only vaguely hearing Pandora telling him that people get used to L-Drive after the first couple of flights. Usually, he would find some sort of witty response, but he could hardly think with this throbbing pain.

“Damn man, you look terrible.”

Tors looked up to see a human standing over him. He didn't wear any uniform, so Tors assumed that he must have been just one of Narcsia's large migrant population. “Thanks for that, buddy.” Tors murmured. “I hadn't realised.”

The man reached into his pocket and took out a sheet of tablets, with one empty holder. “Here. This'll help you out.” He smiled and proffered a tablet to Tors, who looked at it suspiciously. “They're fine, I get all queasy in L-Drive too.”

Head thudding, Tors was desperate for it to stop and abandoned his suspicions for a cure. Swallowing the tablet, he felt it dissolve inside of him, releasing a foul taste which made him cough. He coughed again and again, before he thumped himself in the chest and caught his breath. Looking up at the man, he extended a hand; the pain had gone. “Thanks man. Tors.”

The man took the hand. “No problem. Cane.”

“Mind if I ask where you're from?” Tors's curiosity crawled back to the surface.

“Raan.” Cane nodded. “Got a wife and kid there, those damned storms made it impossible for me to get back there.”

Remembering the storms, Tors shuddered; those things were still out there. Putting that aside for the moment, Tors now realised why Cane seemed so enthusiastic. “Must be nice knowing where you're going next.”

“Yeah man, but I'd like an adventure again. It's not the same when you got a kid.” Cane winked. “Take my advice; go on one while you can.”

“You made a friend, Tors?” Emola entered their small cabin along with Pandora. “Unusual.”

Pandora chuckled, before punching his arm. “Don't be mean.” Her hair extended towards Cane. “Nice to meet you.”

Cane put his head forward, and Pandora's tangled with his, before separating. “Haven't done the Trasmen greeting for a while; don't see many around.” He raised a hand to Emola. “You and Tors must be friends.”

“Emola.” Tors gestured to him. “And Pandora. This is Cane.”

“So, where are they dumping you guys?” Cane asked.

“I don't know.” Emola said, his scales growing darker as his annoyance showed. “They never told us anything. Probably dump a load of us off at various spaceports. Don't know after that.”

“Well, I'm going back to Tras, you're welcome to join me.” Pandora seemed sincere.

“Can't believe we hadn't talked about this before...” Emola trailed off.

“You could go on a tour of the Empire.” Cane suggested. “I did the same about five years ago, it was grand.”

Tors looked at Pandora. “Yeah, maybe we should.”

Pandora shook her head slightly. “I don't know Tors, I just want to go home.”

A squeal of feedback halted the conversation. Tors looked at the small black speaker in the top right corner of the cabin. The squeal stopped, and a screen flicked on showing naught but static.

“Some sort of power surge?” Emola asked.

“They've found us!” Tors yelled. “The winds!”

Pandora slapped Tors. “Of course not, you idiot! Now get a hold of yourself!”

Tors calmed down, but his heart still pounded. “You're right; no gas in space. It's a vacuum.”

“Not a power surge though.” Cane said, looking at Tors with his brow furrowed. Tors looked out of the cabin window and saw three other ships in the nine-ship fleet. Nothing unusual.

Then an image came on the screen. Blurry at first, before it became clear.

“That's a Xaosian.” Emola observed.

“Not any Xaosian.” Pandora pointed at the screen. “Look; the golden patterning on his seat; that is Lord Xaos.”

The image opened its mouth and began to speak. “I do not need to fire upon your ships.” The voice echoed from every screen and every speaker in the fleet. “I do not need to board your ships; I am one with them now. Comply, and you shall be saved. Failure to do so will result in just one of a number of excruciatingly painful deaths. Shall I turn off the oxygen? Open the airlocks? Or simply let your ship fall apart?”

Shouting could be heard, yelling and screaming. Footsteps, slow and fast. Tors looked out of the window again and saw a Titan-Class Xaosian battleship approaching. One of the fleet's ships fired upon it, barely missing only when the Titan swerved away and shot the missile down itself.

The evacuation ship exploded.

Occupants drifted out as airlocks opened. Tors could not see them, but he could imagine them clinging to their throats as tightly as they clung to their very last breath. Another of the fleet then opened fire on the dying ship, tearing it apart to finish off any survivors.

“I warned you.” The voice echoed again, louder than before. “I do not want to kill you all; that would be a waste. Now surrender. Power down your engines willingly, or I shall do so for you.”

Tors felt the ship stop abruptly, nearly knocking him off his feet. He gave an involuntary smile as Emola stumbled and fell to the ground, before he stood, swearing under his breath. The other ships also stopped in quick succession.

More Titan's emerged from the darkness of space and docked with all eight remaining ships. The cabin doors hissed closed and locked automatically as the Xaosians stormed the ships, forcefully relieving the captains of their duties.

Tors looked around at the others, who all looked as frightened as he felt. He sat back down, and reclaimed his corner. The other three did the same, and, when the Xaosians started the ships again, carried out the rest of the journey in silence.

Emergence: Chapter 25

Even the air tasted funny on Prauw.

Shortly after Foton's escape pod was intercepted by a Prauwn aerospace squad, he was back on home-turf under the pseudonym Lyss Fown; just one of a number of aliases he had used in the past on his various “missions”. Despite it being his homeworld, Foton had never missed Prauw. Due to the industrialisation of the world, and its prolonged inability to work with enviro-friendly materials and sources, everything was sepia-tinged due to the brown smoked which lined every street. Alleys were a no-go to any well-doing citizen; anyone going down an alley was almost certainly up to something; they were the only places to do crime. Even now, Foton could see finger-like cameras swivelling around to observe the anonymous masses. One lingered on him as he stared at it, before moving on. Foton grimaced; it wasn't just the police watching the cameras, and he wanted to be on Prauw just a bit longer before they noticed him.

The face-recognition AI that the Assassins used was possibly the most accurate of its kind; the Assassins knew the tricks people used to hide from the standard FR software and programmed countermeasures into this AI. However, the AI was not only used for FR; it was also used by the Assassin's leader to hack into the Empire Network to locate targets and give the Assassins an advantage in the field.

After seeing the camera, Foton knew that they would be on him soon. He wasn't sure how he would be welcomed back; the Assassins were not known for their forgiveness. Looking around, he noticed no-one watching. After one last check, he ducked into the next alley and waited. There was only a dull light, but Foton decided to check his weapons. One of his hidden diamond blades was still intact, but the other was shattered, leaving only a jagged edge behind. Foton shuddered at the thought of encountering Otor again; that Adjeti gave him a run for his money. He hoped that Otor was delusional and really was the last of his kind; he would hate to take on more than one. Thinking of Otor only reminded Foton of Devilclash; he was almost certain she would be fine. Pyrkagia were immortal, after all.

A small flurry of movement caught his eye and he turned to see a man, clad head to toe in black, stand up. “Foton.” He bowed his head; a sign of respect, which Foton copied; obviously they weren't too hostile towards him. “It's been a while.”

Foton recognised the voice. “B'yon? Is that you?”

The man peeled his hood back to reveal the tan-skinned B'yon beneath; hailing from K'hrak, his skin was naturally thicker and eyes larger than other humans'. “Glad you didn't forget me, friend.” He extended a hand towards Foton, who looked at it suspiciously. B'yon withdrew the hand while saying, “We don't want you dead, y'know? The leader just wants to talk, and find a way for you to redeem yourself.”

Foton tutted quietly; it was his mission to Buun that had screwed him over. He had just killed his target when three Pyrkagia rushed at him. He managed to lose them and escape Buun, before leaving the Assassins behind, leaving naught but a message for the leader. “That sounds fair,” Foton agreed, “but I came here to recruit your efforts in the war.”

“Maybe he'll consider it,” B'yon led Foton out of the alley, “But you'll probably have to do something major before he even considers helping the war effort.” He pulled a cylinder out of his pocket, which shone a bright red beam of light into the sky; a cab-hailer.

“I hoped that he may see the seriousness of the situation.” A cab landed near to them, descending from the smog-filled skies. As they climbed in, B'yon passed a card with an address written on to the driver, who nodded, and input it into the cab's nav-screen; the driver was only really there as a mediator between the nav-screen and the passengers, as the cab drove itself. It lifted off into the brown sky.

“Unlikely,” B'yon took the address card back, before leaning back in the seat, “we're not called a secret society for nothing; most of the Empire do not even know we exist. By helping the fight, the secret will be blown right open.”

Foton cursed under his breath; he had forgotten how stubborn the leader was. The cab continued its silent quest until it vanished into a thicker, darker wave of brown; the industrial district. Prauw was known for its manufacturing of vehicles and small devices, in the same way that Xaos is known for its production of military engineering. All factories should be fully manned and operational as huge machines, controlled and maintained by a small fleet of people, build the wonders of aerospace travel from scratch. The cab began to descend again, and the ground became visible once more. B'yon paid the driver, leaving a tip in exchange for his silence, before following Foton out.

Both ground and air were different here. The ground was harder and the air thicker than it was in the city. B'yon went to the nearest factory and placed his palm on a small panel. A laser ran over it, scanning DNA, shape and heartbeat to ensure that it truly was B'yon. A small door opened to the left of him as the laser vanished. “Come on.” B'yon beckoned Foton over.

“What happened to the house?” Foton asked, looking around the empty factory.

“Raided.” Before the factory, the Assassins headquarters was just an old house in the slums of Munau, the capital city.

“B'yon.” A hooded man approached them. “You bring Foton back with you. Interesting.”

The leader of the Assassins stood before them, hunched over like an old man. But looks were deceiving, as were titles; he was known as the Blind Assassin, and rightly so. But he made up for his lack of eyes with both his combat and computing skills; he developed the Assassin's AI for himself, so that he could hack any electronic equipment around him, and use them to “see” his surroundings through a machine, which sat where his eyes should be, wired directly into his brain.

“My lord.” Foton knelt before his leader. “I have come to rejoin the order. On one condition: we help the war effort against the Xaosians.”

“Get up.” The Blind Assassin gestured with his chin for Foton to stand. “And what can we do in a war? Kill Xaos? The generals? Perhaps that would help. Perhaps.” He moved towards Foton, his movements seeming oddly mechanical. “We can help. You can rejoin. On one condition. One mission.”

Foton sighed; he knew it would come down to this. “What's the mission?”

“Just a simple death.” From under his cloak, the Blind Assassin pulled out a small cube, no bigger than the palm of Foton's hand. “And to plant this at the scene.”

“Why?” Foton took the cube and examined it briefly.

“We do not ask questions.” B'yon intervened. “We don't need to. We get the job done.”

“Do you accept?” The Blind Assassin's voice rang with an ominous tone.

Foton thought about it for a second. “Yes. I do.”