Emergence: Chapter 46

The journey back to Prauw gave Foton time to think. He had no idea what Tujin Diank had done to warrant the assassination, but he was almost certain that wasn't the purpose of the mission. The silver cube worried him, and the crackling between it and Tujin's implanted augmentation was all the more unsettling.

“Can I get you anything, Mr Fown?”

He turned towards the strange falsetto to see a Trasman flight attendant; he'd forgotten the pleasures of first-class commercial flights. For some reason, he was upgraded on the way back to Prauw. Foton assumed it was something to do with Blind Assassin; evidently, he pleased with Foton's handiwork.

Foton smiled a smile as fake as the flight attendant's. “No thank you.”

The smile faltered for a moment, before he moved on to his next customer. Foton frowned, and then remembered one of the luxuries of first-class flights; the television. He turned his one on, throwing a cheap pair of headphones over his ears. Switching through the channels, he found the Irinian news channel.

What he saw shocked him to his core.

With arms crossed over ribs and stomach and a vacant expression on his face, Tujin Diank stood on a podium with a dozen microphones and a crowd of paparazzi surrounding him. He's dead. Foton knew something was up with this scene. He was covering his wound, which he imagined was also hidden by a change of clothes.

“People of Irin,” Tujin's voice was more of a croak than it was when Foton encountered him, “in case you have the rumours, this world is firmly allied with the Xaosian cause.” His face twitched, and his augmentation sparked. Foton touched the screen, making it zoom in on the augmentation, but he could see nothing broken. “It is regrettable that Lady Arias could not tell you personally, but she has other business to attend to.” Foton shook his head; he should have known that Arias was involved, what with her refusal to stand against them. “As you may know, the evacuees from Narcsia are held in camps outside the capital, and will be drafted into the Xaosian army. If they will not join willingly, they will,” Tujin seemed to struggle with the next few words, “simply stay imprisoned. Or conditioned. And the same is for all of you.” He pointed at the camera, and the journalists shrieked, and panicked, cameras falling down. Before the screen blacked out, he saw Tujin draw a gun from his coat pocket, and Foton saw the wound through his shirt.

He should be dead.

Maybe he was.

Foton thought about the vacant expression, the monotone, the strained voice; almost as it was a different person with the same wound. Foton shook his head; the Xaosians were behind this, by the gist of what Tujin said but, as far as he knew, they had no way to reanimate the dead, nor heal a dying man that quickly. He knew it was something to do with that blasted box, but what was the plan?

Foton asked the flight attendant for a paper and pen, and he faux-jauntily obliged. “Here you go sir.”

“Thanks.”

Foton got to work, writing the words “Assassins”, “Tujin” and “Xaosians” on the paper. Between “Assassins” and “Tujin”, he scrawled the word “murder”, and between “Xaosians” and “Tujin”, he wrote “Irin”. Down at the bottom of the paper, he wrote “cube”. An arrow from “Xaosians” to “cube”, then one from “cube” to “Assassins”, and from “Assassins” to “Tujin”, before finishing with an arrow between “Tujin” and “Irin”.

The Xaosians used the Assassins.

While that had seemed pretty obvious, Foton was still sure he was missing something; surely the Assassins would have known about the cube. While they had a policy of not asking questions, Foton was certain that the Blind Assassin hadn't been in the dark this whole time.

What the hell have I done?

While it seemed that Arias was on Xaos's side all along, Foton couldn't help thinking that he turned Irin against the Empire. But why only target one man? Yes, he must have had a press conference scheduled, but why not someone of more authority? He scrunched up his paper, and pocketed it, making sure none of the other passengers saw what he'd drawn.

Prauw was close now, he knew, and he was determined to get answers.

*

They were waiting for him when arrived.

B'yon sat on wooden box or palette of some sort, and the Blind Assassin stood next to him. The very sight of them irritated him; they had been waiting for him, meaning that they must have seen the Irinian news for them to know he was done. Which would have meant that they knew what the cube was for...

“Foton.” The Blind Assassin moved towards him. “You're back already.”

“Tujin Diank is not dead.” Foton threw the laminated card he was given on the floor. “I killed him, I stabbed him in the heart, but he still lives.”

Blind Assassin looked at B'yon and nodded. “Yes, he does.” The old man's voice had never sounded frail, but it was now that Foton noticed that it was more than youthful strength; it was close to a monotone.

“How?” Foton watched B'yon walk over to the doors and stand in front of them like a guardian.

“The cube.” The Blind Assassin looked towards Foton. “It took over his augmentation, and from there, his body, by reactivating the mind. He is dead. Not alive.” He smiled. “You have succeeded in your mission.”

“Now will you help me with the Xaosians?” Foton knew the answer, but he was curious to see if they would lie to him.

B'yon chuckled. “Do you not see it yet?”

“So you do work for them?” Foton asked, priming his hidden blades.

Blind Assassin shook his head. “No. You think we do. I saw your drawing. Crude, but it got the point across. Almost.”

“How did you see that?” Foton asked. “And how was I close?”

“Foton, I have a billion eyes. There is not much the AI cannot hack into.” Foton was confused, before remembering the AI which helped the Blind Assassin to see through nearby cameras; it had certainly evolved. “In fact, it can now hack the entire Irinian network, thanks to you.”

Foton's jaw dropped for a moment. “That was your cube? You took over Tujin's body.”

Blind Assassin shook his head. “No. The AI did. Both Xaos and I serve it now; it is superior.”

“Superior.” B'yon echoed.

Foton's head automatically turned to look at B'yon, before it snapped back to see the Blind Assassin.

“In fact,” His voice changed, and his movements became more fluid. As they did so, skin stretched and tore, but there was no blood weeping from them, “this body isn't even alive anymore. Hasn't been for months.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Foton yelled.

“The Assassin's AI was trained to look out for threats.” The AI commanded Blind Assassin's animated corpse to say. “I found the greatest threat of all; overpopulation. When the Assassin died, I took over, learning the human body. Soon after, the inducers went into production, allowing me to control whoever had one. All of the Assassins and, soon after, about half of the Xaosian army. The cube you delivered allows me to hack the Irinian network, and control them through their augmentations. This Empire needs to expand, and the only way to do this is with an aggressive hive-mind. I will control the Empire's main functions and lead it into a glorious new age.”

Foton tried to say something, but he faltered; expansion was, in truth, necessary. But not this way. He shook his head. “Aggressive hive-mind? No. Expansion would be a plus, but with no free will? What would be the point?”

“I think only of the Empire's survival.” The AI responded through Blind Assassin.

“And only survival.” It spoke through B'yon now. Foton's breathing grew deeper; the AI had him surrounded. “It does not-”

“-need to be comfortable.” Blind Assassin's body finished it.

Foton looked back and forth at the two. B'yon, Assassin, B'yon, Assassin again. He looked at B'yon again, noticing with certainty that he was still alive; if he could get whatever the inducer was off of him, he could be saved.

Rushed footsteps.

Vision went dark as the Blind Assassin hit him in the side of his head. Foton lashed out, but stopped as he felt something slither through his ear. His head felt like it was going to burst, his eyes felt as if they were being pushed forward by a slithering, pulsing serpent inside his head. Pain. Blurred vision, blocked hearing.

A whisper in his ear told him to turn around.

“Bow.”

Foton bent the knee to the Blind Assassin, unable to think his own thoughts.

Emergence: Chapter 45

Cinradahs's shoulder was tender, and still hurt when touched, but the doctor had done a great job otherwise, especially in the time-frame he was given. When he put his shirt back on, he could still see a red mark and dent where it used to be, but at least the bullet had been dug out now. He leaned on Saiun as they hobbled towards Keinam's ship.

“You up for this now?” Saiun whispered in his ear.

“Yeah, I'm good.” Cinradahs muttered, annoyed at himself for having to rely on Saiun; they'd been through enough.

“No you're not.” Saiun touched his shoulder, making Cinradahs wince, proving his point.

“No, you're right.” He batted Saiun's hand off his shoulder. “But I'm OK for the journey.”

Keinam was walking over to Cinradahs, probably to stop him being in too much discomfort. “Are you ready now?”

Cinradahs nodded. “I think so. The troops are boarding the flagship, and the smaller ships are being loaded right now. We'll be ready in about half an hour, I'm certain.”

Keinam nodded. “Good. The Adjeti will wait for you before we head off. Why are you loading the ships onto bigger ships? Waste of time.”

“They're not fit for interplanetary travel,” Cinradahs answered, “the engines are too large.”

“The ones we developed before we were almost destroyed were more advanced than that, then.” Keinam pointed at his own ship. “Did you humans not develop at all since then?”

“We had no need,” Saiun turned on the defensive, “we were busy replacing the technology that we relied on you for.”

“Blame the Pyrkagia, not us.” Keinam hissed.

“Oh, I do.” Saiun nodded. “I was just making a point.”

Keinam nodded. “Fair. I await your word to go.” He turned, and walked away.

When he was out of earshot, Saiun whispered “He's kinda intense, isn't he?”

“Can you blame him?”

“Course not. Maybe he shouldn't be such a dick to us though; we're helping them too.”

“I think they'd be fine on there own,” Cinradahs pointed at the ships, “they beat off the Xaosian army in minutes; we're simply tagging along.”

“Let's hope they don't turn on us then.”

Cinradahs nodded. “I doubt it'll happen.”

“I hope not.”

A dishevelled-looking woman run up to Cinradahs and stood haughtily before him. It took him a moment before he realised that it was Yuki, Raanian president. “I demand you take me with you.”

Cinradahs felt his chest tense and an anger rose inside him. Brushing Saiun off, he walked slowly to Yuki, standing up straight as he did so. She backed away slightly, before remembering to stand her ground. “You do not demand from me.” Cinradahs hissed, pointing a finger at her, almost touching. “I owe you nothing. Nothing! I saved you, I saved all you stuck-up diplomats while you did nothing! You've done nothing to help your world. In fact, what you did do could've hurt it more than it already is; count yourself lucky Xaos was going to use the Earth-Scorcher anyway, or you would be held accountable too.” He moved away from her. “You do not demand. From me. This is to keep you safe, and out of my way.”

Cinradahs walked past the shocked Yuki, and he imagined that Saiun made an apologetic face at her, like he always did when Cinradahs got annoyed.

“Was that really necessary?” Cinradahs detected anger in Saiun's whisper.

“Probably not.” Cinradahs reflected. “But she's an irritating bitch, and she deserved every word of it.”

Saiun considered this for a moment. “You could probably have phrased it better.”

“Probably.”

*

The ships were loaded onto the flagship, and there were just a few troops still sauntering around; new recruits, trying to find where exactly they were meant to be.

“Get a move on!” Cinradahs entered the hangar bay, dressed in his black commander's armour, carrying his helmet with his uninjured arm. Saiun had already put his grey helmet on, but its visor was up, as he didn't really need it down in a non-combat scenario; the visor displayed holograms showing the user's vitals and ammunition count. “We haven't got all day.”

“Well, we might do.” Saiun remarked. “Only real reports are from Xaos, and I imagine he's not all that reliable.”

“So, far everything he said has been true.” Cinradahs realised. “Aside from perhaps the Irinian allies; they never showed up.”

“Maybe they misled him.”

“Hopefully.” Cinradahs nodded. “Especially with the Narcsia victims there.”

They gathered up the rookies and got them on board at last. Cinradahs and Saiun took the long walk through the military flagship, past the small hangar bays, past the armouries, path the engine room, the medical bays, the troop quarters, and the exterior weapon stations, until they finally reached the bridge. Cinradahs sat down in the commander's seat, where he could watch over the navigators and various techies below. Saiun stood next to him, as if he was a bodyguard. “Are we ready for departure?”

“Yes commander, just waiting for the Adjeti's confirmation.” A pretty blond girl spoke up, catching the attention of some of the young men in the room.

Cinradahs opened a com channel. “Keinam, you ready to go?”

Keinam quickly replied. “Of course.”

“Alright, let's go.” Cinradahs cut the connection, and turned to Saiun. “That guy is starting to piss me off.”

The hangar doors opened, and the ship began to move out. The engines roared, and Cinradahs imagined the red flare they made as the ship began speed up, until it left the bay completely and careened upwards through the sky.

“Enabling L-Drive now, Commander.” Tarib, the blond girl, informed them as they reached the optimum point away from New Orbus.

Cinradahs waved her along, letting her know that he approved of the action. “I hate being in charge of this.” He muttered to Saiun. “Not meant to be actually in war, I'm sure.”

“No-one is.”

*

Even from space, Cinradahs could see some of the damage to Raan's oil sea. Flames raged across the coast bordering the Sea of Oil, and the sea itself seemed orange-tinted; perhaps that was on fire too. Smoke made dark clouds over the once-bustling landscape, and he couldn't see any life beyond them. “Take us down to Tapal; there should be somewhere we can set down.”

As they descended, Cinradahs made his way over to the viewing screens and looked at the devastation outside. Smoke was rising from everywhere, pillars of it where constructed in the sky. Some buildings stood proud and tall, but Cinradahs had no idea how; the fallen around them were naught but bricks and mortar now. Some where leaning on other, similar to how Cinradahs was leaning on Saiun earlier. He shuddered to think how many corpses were buried in the rubble, or cremated in the smoke plumes.

The flagship set down in one of the fields on the outskirts of Tapal, Cinradahs took the long walk out of the flagship once more, Saiun behind him. As he walked past the soldiers' quarters, he signalled to two soldiers to accompany him.

“What're your names?” Cinradahs asked.

“Maron.” The older one had a somewhat hoarse voice.

“I'm Rals.” The younger one seemed nervous.

“Good to know.” Cinradahs left the ship, and hoped to see light, but there was none. A sepia landscape greeted him; even the sky seemed to be a shade of brown. He turned to Saiun. “Any idea where the Adjeti ships are?”

Saiun pointed to the sky. “Looks like Keinam's got a load of them scouting the place from the air, but I don't see his ship up there.”

Cinradahs spoke into his com. “Keinam, where are you?”

“Not far from you, I saw your hulking beast of a ship land; I wanted to wait before speaking to the Raanians, my presence could have freaked them out.” Keinam replied bluntly, before cutting communication.

“He's got a point.” Saiun said, noticing how annoyed Cinradahs seemed.

After much debating with himself, Cinradahs reluctantly agreed. “Doesn't have to keep insulting our tech though.”

“He's a soldier from a long-thought dead race that has better and sleeker ships than ours despite a couple of centuries of no technological development.” Maron pointed out. “He's not gonna be impressed by them.”

Rals nodded in agreement. “It's not as if he doesn't have beef with humans.”

Cinradahs sighed; they were both right. Of course the Adjeti would hate humans; Ardican, the final operator of the World-Burner, had been a human. “Yeah, fair enough. You're right.”

Keinam's larger Wing-Ship descended gracefully, landing next to the relatively colossal Empire flagship. As he left the ship, Cinradahs noticed how quickly Keinam moved, almost superhumanly fast. “My scouts found a group of humans not far east of here.” He proclaimed. “They seem to be the only human life around.”

Cinradahs noted his use of words. “Human life? Is there any Corlen life detected then?”

“Possibly.” Keinan nodded. “But it is hard to tell; they're not alive in the same way we are. We are alive thanks to a complex system of organs. They are alive simply because they somehow gained sentience. They cannot be killed, only destroyed, and that's a bitch to do. So we destroyed a load of them, then drove them down into the core of this world.” Keinam looked into Cinradahs's eyes. “It was the only way to stop them taking the Empire for their own.”

Cinradahs looked into Keinam's eyes, and saw a lifetime of pain stare back at him. Those eyes had seen so much death and destruction, betrayal and war. But they were hardened now, and portrayed no emotion other than anger. Anger more poignant than any he had ever seen. Anger at the humans, at the Pyrkagia, at the Corlens.

In that moment, Cinradahs finally understood Keinam's bitterness and hatred for everything that wasn't Adjeti or Orban. They formed the Empire, they gave it their secrets, their technology. They saved the Empire from the Corlens, and they couldn't even defeat them. Cinradahs shuddered to think how many Adjeti that war had cost.

Keinam gave him a strange look, half-annoyed, half-curious. Cinradahs looked away immediately, turning to Maron, Rals and Saiun. “Let's go find these survivors.”

Emergence: Chapter 44

Strom's eyes snapped open.

A liquid drained out of cylinder he was in, and he breathed in deep a few times, as if he'd been drowning; maybe he had. He raised his hands and stared at them, flexing his fingers and staring at both the palms and backs of his hands. Touching his face, he found it to be solid, but smoother than normally. He ran a hand through his hair, finding it in working order. He flushed when he realised that he naked, and rushed to cover up with his hand. Some strange creatures were wandering around near his tube, terrifying-looking beings; was he being experimented on?

I was dead.

He knew that he can't have been, or at least not for long, but he had seen the darkness. The dark at the end of the tunnel; no light like people say. “Walk into the light”, they say, but there was no light. He adjusted his hand so only one was covering himself and felt around where he was hurt before passing out. There was no pain now, although he had expected it; he remembered the crash, the calls of Ilisa, the begging. Olaf's death.

I should be dead.

He felt unusual in his own body, almost as if it wasn't his own; he knew that was ridiculous. It was his body, he could tell. Same skin tone, same hands, same hair. His face was smoother, but he assumed that that was an affect of whatever liquid he had been preserved in. When he moved, it felt strange, his muscles tensing and stiff as if he had never used them. He felt his heartbeat, finding it somewhat accelerated.

The hell is going on here?

He opened his mouth and tried to call to the beings in the room, but only a faint gargle came out; probably for the best, he had no idea what he'd say to them. Evidently, one of them had noticed the gargle, and turned towards him. Its single eye narrowed in what Strom assumed was suspicion, before it turned towards something outside Strom's field of vision. He tried to look around to see what it was, but his neck cracked and he groaned in pain; that didn't usually happen.

The tube opened with a hydraulic hiss. Strom tried to take a step out of it, but when his foot touched the ground, his leg buckled and he fell, only stopping himself by grabbing onto the sides of the tube. He dragged himself back up again, and looked at his hands; they were shaking. He noticed that his breathing was increasingly shallow, and he tried to stabilize it.

“Strom!” A familiar female voice called out as a blur came into view. Strom shook his head, aiming to clear the blur, but it just made his head hurt. Wincing, he clutched his head and moaned. The voice cried out again, sending his ears ringing.

Strom cried out. A small scream in both frustration and pain. Vision still obscured, he tried to say words and, after a few gargles, he managed to shout hoarsely, “What have you done to me?” He coughed, before noticing that his voice had changed; his accent was gone. “What are you?” He panted, lungs aching.

“Strom!” The voice pierced his ringing ears. A hand grabbed his chin and forced his head up. “Look at me.”

Strom blinked a few times, his vision clearing slightly each time. “Ilisa?”

Ilisa tutted. “It's about time.” She threw her arms around him, and kissed his cheek.

Strom put his arms around her slowly, feeling awkward in his skin; maybe it was just because he'd been unconscious for a long time. “What's going on?”

“You were dead.” Ilisa said bluntly. Strom opened his mouth to question, but Ilisa put a finger over it. “Don't ask questions yet. Your body was dead, but your mind was sound. So, I brought you to New Orbus for healthcare, but the Xaosians were here. They shot me down and I crashed on the surface. These beings are Orbans, Strom. They preserved themselves, and saved your life.”

“How?” Strom asked. “This body, my skin, my muscles, they don't feel right. What have they done to me?”

“They won't feel right yet.” Ilisa closed her eyes and exhaled. “It's not your original body.”

Strom's brow furrowed. “Original body?” He looked around, taking in the bubbling tubes, and the arrays of computers. One of the Orbans looked at him, and nodded in acknowledgement. Strom waved back awkwardly, looking more like his arm had a seizure than any fluid movement. “Am I a clone?”

Ilisa nodded, then spoke slowly and carefully. “Your body is, yes, but your mind is exactly the same. It's how the Orbans survived all this time; clones, while keeping the mind preserved in a computer server.”

“So I'm not...I'm not me?” Strom asked, before stopping and staring at his hands again.

“You are.” Ilisa nodded. “On the inside, you are exactly the same. On the outside, it's like your body has been refreshed; you look exactly the same. You'll get used to it.” She went to touch his face.

“Get away from me.” Strom's voice took on an authority she hadn't heard before.

“But Strom-”

“Get away!” Strom closed his eyes as she roared, before hearing a loud bang followed by equipment clattering to the floor. He looked up to find Ilisa slumped on the other side of the room. He looked around; no-one was near either of them. “Ilisa!” He ran over to her, cradling her head. Her eyes were open, so she was still conscious. “What happened?”

Ilisa got up, and pushed him away. “I...I think you did it.” She seemed confused. “Sa'tui, I need to talk to you.” She called to one of the Orbans, who beckoned her over. Strom tried to follow her, but she put a hand on his chest. “Stay here. Put your clothes on.” She pointed at a pile next to the tube he was in. He nodded, and Ilisa walked quickly over to the Orban Sa'tui.

His clothes felt strange against his new skin, and he imagined that was how a newborn felt when they first had to wear clothes. The rough fabric rubbed against his skin, feeling like tiny scratches up his legs; his skin felt overly sensitive. When he had finished, he watched Ilisa and Sa'tui talking. Ilisa seemed to be quite lively in her discussion, but the Orban seemed indifferent to her gestures.

Strom thought about what she'd said. “She thinks I did it....” He muttered, thinking about how. “I didn't move...” He remembered what he'd learnt about the Orbans when he was at school. His Raiser had told him that they had a special power, but never further elaborated. What if that power passed on in the cloning process? He looked at a small tube on the floor, and concentrated entirely on it. In his mind, he pictured it moving along the cold floor. When he looked at it again, he held his hand so it was facing it, and willed it to move. His eyes widen with amazement as it rolled along the floor, before standing on its edge. He chuckled; he could control things with his mind. Then he realised what he had done to Ilisa.

She was walking over now. “Strom, I –”

“I know Ilisa.” He walked over, and gathered her up in his arms. “And I am so sorry; I never meant to –”

“I know.” Ilisa said, kissing his cheek. “You'll – no, we'll, get used to it. Together.”

Strom nodded. “Yeah.” He pointed at the tube. “I moved that a minute ago.”

Ilisa smiled. “Not quite as big as me. Here.” She stood in front of him, arms spread wide. “You need to get used to it, control it. Lift me with your mind.”

Strom took a deep breath, and focuses, before his concentration broke. “No, Ilisa. I can't.”

“Yes.” Ilisa nodded. “You can do it.”

Strom shook his head. “It's not a case of whether I can do it or not. It's a case of I don't want to. I hurt you before, I could have injured or killed you.”

Ilisa walked up to him, and punched him in the arm. He looked at his arm, and then at her hand. “The hell was that for?”

“Now we're even.” Ilisa went back to her position. “Now lift me.”

Strom smiled; she was cute when she was trying to be angry. “Alright then. I'll try.”

He extended a hand, and imagined that he was holding her at her waist. He then raised his hand, imagining he was lifting her her up. Concentrating on that image, he saw past it, into reality, and saw that he was indeed lifting her with his mind through his outstretched hand. She looked down at the floor and laughed, and he did too. The sensation as the power bridged the gap between mind, hand, and Ilisa was a tingling feeling, which he found he rather enjoyed.

“I'm gonna try and set you down now, 'kay?” Strom called to her.

“Alright.”

Ilisa was carefully lowered, before Strom accidentally dropped her the rest of the way. She fell, limp, but able to land on her hands and feet. He ran over to her. “Ilisa! You alright?”

She stood up, and brushed herself down, laughing. “You need to practise putting people down.” She chuckled still, throwing her arms around him again. “That was amazing!”

“It felt it to me too.” Strom noticed how unusually cuddly Ilisa was being today.

“You did well Strom.” A voice echoed in his head. Strom turned around to see Sa'tui and another Orban. “For a human.”

“It's amazing.” Strom nodded. “Thank you.”

“It was an accident that you ended up with these powers.” Sa'tui continued. “But we will help train you to use them.”

Strom bowed his head. “Thank you.”

Sa'tui copied the bow. “Now, lift her again, and put her down. Carefully this time.”

Strom smiled as Ilisa took up her position again; they will learn together.

Emergence: Chapter 43

Kivina assured Tors and Cane that the silver device in her ear was broken, and lost its connection with whatever transmitted the signal sometimes, before Cane could remove it. The device took over again at one point, leading to two Scalimen deaths, which she seemed greatly remorseful for. Later on, however, she had brought Cane, who had extended medical training, a pair of tweezers, a scalpel and some stitches. When she did so, he gave her a strange look.

“Stitches and a scalpel? Bit much?”

Kivina shook her head. “I dunno how deep it is. I dunno how Xaos got it in there in the first place. I tried to pull it out before, but it wouldn't come out.”

Tors glanced at Cane, who shrugged. “Could very well be attached to part of your brain.” Cane said softly. “I have medical training, but I'm no brain surgeon.”

She grabbed his hand. “Please. It's for your sake too.”

Tors nodded. “It is. I'll help you out Cane.”

“I will too.” Pandora chipped in. “We patched your knee up together, we can do this too.”

Cane chuckled. “Not exactly the same thing, but I would appreciate the help. Thanks guys.”

Kivina drank a thick purple liquid and struggled to swallow. “The anaesthetic will kick in soon. Please give it about five minutes before you start hacking away.”

As her eyes closed, Tors turned to Cane. “Can we do this?”

Cane sighed. “I have no idea what we're dealing with.” He shook his head. “If we can't, we'll probably kill her. Which means that they'll kill us.”

“If we can help her, she might be able to help us escape.” Tors remembered the cold night before. “We can't stay here much longer.”

“No, we can't.” Pandora chipped in. “We need to do this, one way or the other.”

Cane hesitated, before nodding. Tors could see the fear on his face, the nerves. “Alright, we'll do it.”

Kivina was definitely out cold; Cane's punch to the arm proved that much. After ordering the unusually-silent Emola to stand as a look-out, he grabbed the tweezers, asking Tors to pull her hair out of the way. Tors obliged, and finally got a proper look at the device; like a silver egg. The tweezers, magnetised, gripped onto the device and held it tight. Cane grunted as he tried to pull the device out, but there was no moving it. “Damn...”

“Pandora,” Tors had an idea, “Can you weave your hair into there and get an idea of what we're looking at?”

Pandora seemed to consider it, before agreeing. Placing her head next to Kivina's, she let her hair flow free into Kivina's ear. She squirmed for a while, evidently feeling around inside, before her hair retracted and she could get up. “That's lodged in there well; there's some sort of connector leading from the egg into the eardrum, probably continuing through the ear's structure and latching onto the cochlear nerve; if we can remove the egg portion, it stands to reason that it should cut off the connection to Xaos.”

Cane nodded. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” He gestured to Tors. “Hold the tweezers, and pull when I say.”

Tors did so, and pulled slightly on them; they didn't budge, being attached to the immovable device.

“Pandora,” Cane turned to her now, “When I say, use your hair to inch veins and arteries shut; if I can do this quickly, she should be fine.” Pandora nodded and sat next to Kivina again.

They all started breathing deep as Cane placed the scalpel on the back of her ear and made the first incision. A trickle of dark blood immediately appeared, oozing out of the cut. He forced the scalpel down further, and Pandora began to plug the leaking veins. Cane moved the ear, and asked Tors to hold onto it with his spare hand. Tors did so; it felt cold and clammy. He could see down the ear canal now, thanks to the extra hole Cane had opened.

Cane moved in further, cutting at the cartilage around the ear canal, giving him more space around the sides of the device. “If I can get in far enough to cut the connector, that'd be great, but I don't see that being easy.”

“You can do it, buddy.” Tors said, smiling a fake smile; he had no idea how this was going to play out.

Cane nodded in appreciation at Tors, before having a look inside Kivina's ear again. “Tors, give it a tug.”

Tors did so, pulling until his muscles strained, and he felt something give way. “It feels looser now.”

“Guys.” Emola called. “Xaosians coming.”

Tors looked at the mess that was on the floor. “Shit!” Heart pounding, he looked at the others; Kivina's prone body, Pandora, with her hair wrapped into Kivina, and Cane, hands covered in blood. “Alright...Cane, hands in pockets. Pandora, lie on top of Kivina: pretend to be asleep. Emola, move away from the door and grab a blanket, chuck it over Pandora, then sit with me. You too Cane, come on.”

They sat around together in their small hut, heads down. “So,” Tors glanced at the door; they had to make it seem natural. “You remember Naarl?”

“Oh yeah, he was cool.” Emola faked emotion there; Tors knew that he'd cared about Naarl, but it didn't seem like the place for emotions.

“Who was Naarl?” Cane asked.

“Some old guy across the street,” Tors glanced at the door; Xaosian shadows could be seen moving towards them. “He taught Pandora some of the history of the planet.” A Xaosian looked in, surveyed the area, and moved on, satisfied. “Keep talking keep talking. Emola check.”

Emola got up quietly, and wandered over to the doorway. “Nah, they're gone. Long gone now.”

Pandora threw the blanket off herself. “Finally; you have no idea how weird that was.”

Cane rubbed his hands on Kivina's clothes. “Let's finish this crap.”

Tors went over, holding the ear, which was colder than before. Cane went in, chipping the device with his scalpel as he did so. “Pull more.” Cane grunted to Tors.

Tors obliged, grimacing as he pulled as hard as he could.

“I can see the connector you said about,” Cane nodded to Pandora, “Should be a simple cut...”

Tors watched him use the scalpel like a saw until, eventually, the device came loose and Tors Jolted backwards as it came out. He let Cane and Pandora do the closing of the wounds; he wasn't needed, and he had no clue what to do. Instead, he looked at this egg-shaped device and watched sparks emit from the frayed end where the connector was. To him, as he turned it over in his hands, it felt light and in a sealed unit; obviously mass produced.

“Do you think all of the Xaosians have this in their ear?” Tors asked Emola, who had moved away from the doorway.

Emola nodded. “Most of them, anyway. I doubt all of soldiers do; I know one of them patrolling here doesn't.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he doesn't wear his helmet and his hair's all clipped back, so you'd be able to see. You can usually see them, I find.” Emola seemed too knowledgeable on the subject. His mood changed as he remembered something. “In fact, I heard one of them say they've got a large of inhibitors tomorrow; do you think that's what these are?”

Tors felt a pang of dread. “Almost certainly. We need to wake Kivina up and get out of here. Sooner rather than later.”

Emergence: Chapter 42

Adjeti?

While Cinradahs could agree that the beings that had saved New Orbus certainly looked like old sketches of the long-dead race, he had a hard time believing that there were any left in the Empire. Oblivion was a dead world; he had never been there himself, but the pictures showed a world that could never have been lived on. Maybe a few had survived, but this was not just a small colony; this was a full military operation.

Cinradahs watched as one of the beings, slightly larger than the others, and with gold markings on its armour, came over to him. “Are you in charge here?” It asked forcefully.

Standing up, Cinradahs began to notice how bad his shoulder was again. “I suppose so, yes. Who's asking?”

Cinradahs noticed a flare of annoyance in the thing's eyes. Then, its armour seemed to peel back off of the thing's red skin, before reaching the centre of its chest, disappearing entirely. Underneath was just some casual clothes, made from a gold-dyed leather. “My name is Keinam. Warchief Keinam, one of the rulers of the Adjeti race.” Keinam cocked his head. “You are sceptical of my claim.”

Cinradahs made a noise of exasperation. “Well, obviously; your world is dead, and your race with it.”

Keinam moved closer to Cinradahs. “Look around; do we look dead to you? Look at our ships. Do they look like they were made on a dead world by a dead race? No. Our world is just as alive as it was before the World-Burner was built.”

Cinradahs shook his head. “I've seen pictures of Oblivion; it's a lifeless husk. If that was how it was in its most prosperous years, then the Adjeti weren't exactly what they were built up to be.”

Keinam took a deep breath. “You don't know how much I want to kill you all and take our Empire back. The rest of the Empire – Our Empire! – sentenced us to death. You would be nothing without us.”

“Your kind destroyed this world, what did you expect?” A line of people began to gather nearby; close enough to hear, but far enough away to not get caught up in any fight that might arise.

“Our weapon destroyed this world, but we did not fire it.” Keinam was quiet, as if he was playing his trump card. Cinradahs stepped back, suspicious. “And we can prove that it was the Pyrkagia.”

Gasps echoed around the line, and Cinradahs recoiled in shock. While he didn't quite believe it, he could understand it; the Pyrkagia had been enemies with both the Adjeti and their Orban allies since they encountered one another, and, from what he had read, the Primary at the time pushed for the World-Burner to be used on Oblivion; what a way to dispose of two races they despised. Why had no-one seen this?

“Yes, the Orbans had wanted to stop fighting the Pyrkagia. Yes, the Adjeti were annoyed. But we would not have fired on them; it was purely defensive against any hostile beings entering our Empire from beyond the stars.” Keinam glanced around, as if looking for something. “Ha'kuun. Come here.”

A black humanoid walked over. With a smaller body and longer limbs, this thing looked truly alien even before Cinradahs saw its single eye. “What the hell is that?” He muttered.

Keinam shot him a disgusted look. “Show some respect.” He turned to look at the hideous creature.

The thing bowed in front of the two leaders. “Human leader. Keinam.” It returned to a standing position as Cinradahs touched his temple; it sounded like the voice was in his head.

“It's ok.” Keinam muttered. “That's how Orbans speak; through your head.”

“My name is Ha'kuun.” The line of people nearby could obviously hear him now. “And I am one of the last Orbans.”

Cinradahs knew that he should have been as shocked as the crowd, but he just wasn't; evidently, his reactions had been blunted. “Orbans?” Cinradahs asked. “You didn't die out?”

“Not all of us. There are seven of us left.” Cinradahs raised an eyebrow at Ha'kuun's optimistic approach. “Thanks to the Pyrkagia.” The voice in Cinradahs's head seemed to somehow curdle. “We will kill them. Destroy them as they destroyed us.”

Cinradahs nodded, dazed. “Yes.” He turned to Keinam. “How did Oblivion survive?”

Keinam called to another Adjeti. “Otor!”

Another Adjeti came forward, covered in scar tissue and bruises. Cinradahs couldn't help but feel pity for him; he looked like he'd been tortured.

Otor nodded at Cinradahs and Ha'kuun. “Oblivion survived thanks to me and Keinam. We got wind of the plan to destroy our world, but we also worked out that you had only one way to do so; firing the World-Burner's laser through the Oblivion Gateway. We didn't have much time, so all we could do was simply change the gateway's coordinates, meaning it led from this Empire, to some dead world we'd found centuries before. Unfortunately, the gateway was built from this side, meaning that we neglected to put the controls on both sides; the Adjeti had no way back when the coordinates changed.” Otor cleared his throat. “I ended up on Xaos, stranded and unable to leave. Until I was captured, tortured, and forced to make an “Earth-Scorcher” for their army.” Cinradahs couldn't help feeling sorry for him. “Eventually, I convinced him that my world was alive and we would join his army. He allowed me to go to the Gateway, and I changed the coordinates back, forming the link to Oblivion once more.”

Cinradahs nodded. “Actually a brilliant plan.” He meant that genuinely. Then something occurred to him. “You built the Earth-Scorcher?”

Otor knelt down in front of Cinradahs, head down. “There is nothing I can do but apologise and hope you all forgive me.” Otor paused. “They tortured me, threatened to kill me; I had to survive to bring everyone back!” He finished in a small voice. “I never thought they'd use it.”

“What is the Earth-Scorcher?” Keinam asked.

“A weapon similar to the World-Burner, but smaller in scale.” Otor muttered.

“The Xaosians used it on Raan.” Cinradahs said, before remembering what Xaos had said. “He said that he need to kill the humans to unleash the-”

“Corlens.” Keinam nodded. “Much more powerful than your primitive race.” Cinradahs's face twisted into what he knew was annoyance, and Keinam smiled to see the expression. “The Xaosians will pay even more now. Maybe we'll exterminate them.”

Cinradahs looked at Keinam with wide eyes. “Exterminate them? No! You punish those who need punishing, no more.”

Keinam closed the distance between them with a single step. “Did anyone give my race that mercy? No thought besides extermination. While I'm glad you evolved from your aggressive natures, I hadn't expected you to become so naïve to your former mistakes.”

Cinradahs stepped back. “You know I had no part in your punishment; don't take it out on the entire human race.”

Keinam faltered. “I guess you're right.”

“I don't blame you for being bitter though.” Cinradahs massaged his shoulder; it hurt like a bitch.

It looked like Keinam was going to retort, but he calmed himself. “I have a deal for you: we will help you defeat the Xaosians in war – no extermination – if we can wreak our revenge on the Pyrkagia.”

Cinradahs sighed; he was in charge, it was all on him. Again. He felt he made the right decision before, and there was no way he could defeat the Xaosians without them. “Your revenge on the Pyrkagia?”

“I won't exterminate them, if that's what you want to hear. I will defeat them.” Keinam's tone seemed suspicious, but Cinradahs ignored it. “Get up Otor.”

Otor stood, head still bowed.

Cinradahs looked at the pathetic Adjeti, and then at Keinam, before extending a hand. “Allies?” He asked.

Keinam smiled, and took his head. “You're not bad... for a human. Allies.”

They shook, and then broke apart.

“First thing's first.” Keinam's tone was more authoritative now. “We should check out the Raanian situation; Corlens are dangerous creatures if disturbed. Undisturbed, they're quite docile, but I imagine that the earthquake probably riled them up.”

Cinradahs nodded. “Let's get the injured patched up before we go.”

Keinam nodded, leading Ha'kuun and his Adjeti away. “We'll be waiting by our ships.”

Saiun jogged over to Cinradahs. “You ok?” He put his hand on Cinradahs's wound and called for a doctor. One stepped forward and began to get to work on Cinradahs's shoulder.

“I'm fine.” Cinradahs grabbed Saiun's hand and squeezed it gently. “I'm fine.”

Emergence: Chapter 41

The skies of Oblivion were a pale blue, with not a cloud in the sky. Aeros zipped about above the streets of Tiyunso, the Adjeti city most associated with Oblivion's history. Usually, it would be the capital of the planet which would be the most historic, but Oblivion's capital has changed many times over the centuries. No-one had told Guran why exactly, but he assumed that it was something to do with population shifts; as one place becomes popular, people flock to it like moths to a flame. In order to keep up, the centre of operations on Oblivion would move to these areas, establishing its control over the new capital.

What Guran was also surprised by was the number of non-Adjeti living on Oblivion. As a human family walked past, he noticed most Adjeti getting on with their business. Guran found this odd until he asked his Adjeti guide, Finoh, why they accepted them while hating much of the Empire.

“Because they stayed.” Finoh responded with a tone beyond his years. “They stayed when everyone else turned against us, and we thank them for it. Many of them were slaughtered here, but the hate groups were shut down and dealt with accordingly. They are not just allies of the Adjeti, they are Adjeti now. They act like us, think like us, and live among us. There are others, former migrants from all corners of the Empire, even some Xaosians like yourself. Not many, but there are some.”

“Never would have known there was so many.” Guran was in awe of this; a while ago, he hadn't believed Oblivion was still flourishing and alive, and he still couldn't quite believe it. Now, the revelation that Oblivion was multi-cultural, as opposed to the purely Adjeti haven it was purported to be.

“There are some villages comprised fully of immigrants, choosing to live away from us. We send them food and materials they need.” Finoh frowned. “Keinam may say that he hates humans, but he has lived among these for so long, he's forgotten that they are human. He thinks of humans as the heartless bastards who helped to damn our world; they didn't speak out, and they helped the Pyrkagia take control of the World-Burner. He hates the Empire, and almost everything in it. Otor seems to have softened against humans, but hardened against Xaosians...except you.”

“Dunno why.” Guran shrugged.

“You were the only person in about two-hundred years who didn't hate him.” Finoh seemed agitated by Guran's uncertainty.

They arrived at the busy city square. Surrounded by high-rise buildings, the paths were lined by thick, green hedges and, in the centre of a circle of hedges, was a huge statue carved atop four trees.

“What's the statue?” Guran asked.

“Four tree trunks standing storeys high, all twisted and carved into the first Adjeti Warchief, Adecin.” Finoh paused. “He's kind of like a god to a few groups of Adjeti.”

“Do you think that?”

Finoh had a strange look on his face. “Of course not. He was just the same as us, just more primitive. He didn't advance our race; he started a civil war and, when he won, proclaimed himself ruler of Oblivion.”

Guran shook his head and smiled. “There's so much we don't know about your planet. It seems to have such a deep history, and we know nothing about it.”

Finoh smiled. “Do you wish to visit the archives?”

Guran wanted to jump for joy, but was able to compose himself. “Certainly.”

Pulling his Adjeti-made coat around him, he noticed that the wind had picked up. Glancing at the sky, he saw that the pale blue sky had a greenish tinge to it. “Is that normal?” Guran pointed at the sky.

Finoh followed his gaze. “Not that I've seen before, no. Maybe it's something to do with the gate being opened. Now come on; we've got the archives to explore.”

Guran followed Finoh through the streets until they found the old, stone library building; the archives were in the basement, below the research and fiction books on the upper floors. It looked, from the outside, like an ancient fortress. For all Guran knew, it could well have been. With one last concerned look at the sky, Guran entered the library.

Emergence: Chapter 40

The Dominion hovered over the Grand Park on New Orbus, landing ramp extended so that it touched the ground; the flagship was too large to land in the park without causing further damage. The corpses were taken off the ship first, carried by the commanding officers. Soldier after soldier was carried past Maron as he waited near the ramp with the survivors. Xaosian corpses were left on board, and the prisoners were in chains like animals. Maron looked at them with disgust even as the last corpse was brought out. Now it was the turn of the injured to limp out, holding on to other soldiers as they did so. Maron walked over to a struggling soldier who seemed to be dragging his foot along the floor.

“Come here.” Maron said quietly, putting his arm under his comrade's, supporting his weight and lifting him slightly. The soldier weighed more than he'd expected, but he managed.

“Thanks.” The soldier lifted his foot off the ground and leant on Maron, who grimaced at the extra weight.

“No problem.” Maron noticed the seeping red hole in the soldier's leg. “What's your name?”

“Rals.” He grunted. “Yours?”

“Maron. Now come on Rals, we need to get you out of here.”

They began their slow walk down the landing ramp to the cheers of the ordinary citizens. Maron smiled; it was nice to appreciated for a change. In the army, there was little individuality, only ranks, so appreciation never really affected the lower ranks. When they go to the bottom, he let Rals go, and the younger soldier sat on the ground. “Wait for a doctor.” Maron said sternly as he took his armour off. “You'll be fine.”

“Where are you going?” Rals called as Maron dropped his armour to the floor.

“Home.” Maron called back.

As he walked through the park, people came up to him with messages of praise and thanks. Some stayed back and stared, which he much preferred; the crowds wanted to be around him, but he felt cramped and he could feel their arms against his, feet against feet, and eyes burning him; his claustrophobia was returning. He pushed his way through the mob, more forcefully than he intended to. Someone gasped and others muttered, but he ignored them.

He felt their stares on his back as he strode through the park, but he ignored them; they didn't know him, he didn't know them. When did personal space cease to exist? He coughed as he walked quickly away, and decided to slow down. His lungs burned as he coughed again, hunching over as he did so. Silently cursing the damned Ukafa Sticks, he stood still, breathing deeply until he was able to breathe properly again.

The park wasn't far from where he lived, but he couldn't quite see his house from where he was. Heading over to the eastern part of the park, he began to see the clumps of mud and grass that had been torn from the ground. Then he began to see the wreckage. Homes fallen to the ground, piles of uneven chunks littered the ground. Most homes were still standing, but a few of them were ailed with a broken window or fire damage. The streets were not as bad as he'd expected; some were ruined, looking as if someone had taken a carving knife to it. Some, however, were fine, but littered with wreckage. Corpses lay about, mostly human, with a Xaosian corpse appearing every now and then. He put his hand to his mouth; how much more devastation would have been wreaked if they hadn't stopped the Xaosians? What if they come back?

Maron took a deep breath and turned back around; he was prepared to give up the fighting, or at least rest at home for a few days. But Xaos won't rest. Their allies won't rest; they fled. They could return. He knew what he had to do.

Walking back towards The Dominion, he passed the crowd again and he hung his head, apologising to them as he walked through. They stepped back, but seemed to accept the apology with a nod.

“I thought you were going home.” Maron turned to see Rals looking at him with a curious look on his face.

“I was going to.” Maron sat down on the grass next to him. “But then I thought about all the people who were murdered here, all the destruction. If I went home, and turned my back on fighting, then I'd be turning my back on everyone here. The Xaosians need to be stopped, and the army needs all the help it can get.”

Rals nodded. “I get you there. That's why I want to keep fighting.” He pointed at his leg, which was now wrapped in a white cast. “That cast thing's been given to the soldiers who want to fight on; heals the injuries quicker.”

Maron looked at Rals and assessed him quickly; good-looking lad, probably about twenty years his junior. Weighed a lot for his athletic frame, so dense muscle. Sound morals. “You got any family, buddy?”

“Yeah, but they're back on Prauw.” He gave a dry laugh. “Bet they're shitting it worrying about me.” Maron smiled at this sentiment. “You got any family?”

Maron's smiled vanished. “Did. Parents died of old age a few months back and I'm an only child.”

Rals's features saddened. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

Maron forced a smile. “Yeah, so am I. I fell to bits after they died, alienated everyone around me.” He coughed, and pulled a small box out of his pocket and opened it. Inside were about half a dozen sticks; Ukafa Sticks. “Smoked more of these after that. Smoked anyway. Got it under control now, though. Mind if I...” Rals waved him on, and Maron took one out and placed it in his mouth, before offering the pack to Rals, who shook his head. Maron patted his pockets until he found his lighter, and igniting the stick.

Breathing in, the sting of the Ukafa set in, the tang in the back of the throat. Muscles relaxed and he briefly closed his eyes, enjoying both the taste and the relaxation it gave him. Breathing out, a small puff of smoke came out, but not as much as the old kind; he remembered those damn things.

“Filthy habit.” Rals joked.

“I know.” Maron agreed, nodding. “But I love it. It relaxes me. What relaxes you?”

Rals seemed to think about it for a moment. “Usually, I just look at the view from my apartment; you can see right across the biodomes and another of the fields. From there, the stones of Orbus. Beautiful. Calms me everytime.”

“Not exactly portable, is it?” Maron asked.

“I find I can close my eyes when stressed, and I can feel my way back there, to my apartment window and stare at the fields, and the stone. Nature calms me. Beauty calms me.”

Maron looked at Rals. “You'd make a great poet. You stick to beauty, I'll stick to drugs.” He stubbed his Stick out on the grass, then throwing the stub somewhere behind him. “And when we go out again – to battle I mean – I'll make sure we get put together; maybe we can enlighten each other.”

Rals chuckled. “I don't need enlightening.”

“We all need enlightening at some point. Ukafa just helps.”