Haven *HF*
By Harbinger
Prologue
During the End Conflicts, the balance of power in the universe was shifted. The Conflicts began in the 31st Century, when the nonhuman inhabitants of the universe attempted to eradicate the human race. Humanity had risen to the pinnacle of civilization, and the rest of the universe felt threatened; indeed, mankind had instituted some of the harshest laws ever known, and imposed atrocious policies upon its neighbors. In their struggle for supremacy, the "Fiends" massacred billions of humans, but the Children of Terra struck back with unprecedented ferocity. The leader of the Terran military, an Ascended history calls "Elim," led the crusade to annihilate the attacking races. Over the span of five millennia, the human race systematically destroyed all nonhuman civilizations in the universe. Elim himself dealt the killing blow, assassinating the leaders of the Oolian Multicluster Directorate. The Children of Terra had lost billions to the End Conflicts, and retreated to Earth after the wars. These Conflicts were chronicled by Jadin, a man reborn every thousand years, in the timeless epic now known as "The Last Days."
Humanity, for the first time in ages, found itself alone in the universe. The Government, through the Grand Council, initiated a plan for the renewal of the human genepool. The Resolution of the Twelve Thousand was passed in the late 80th Century. Clandestine genetic screenings began, which would choose the 12,000 individuals destined to be the future of the human race. In this process, four Races were identified: the Normals, who possessed no genetic superiorities, but also held no deficiencies; the Psionics, who were born with genetically-determined mental abilities such as psychometry, telepathy, psychokinesis, and others; the Non-Psionics, who possessed genetic advantages that were not mentally based, such as enhanced strength, superior eyesight, and energy-projection talents; and the Originators, humans who were determined to be genetically contaminated, holding essentially useless--even harmful--genetic predispositions.
Twelve thousand were chosen from the genepool: 5000 Normals, 3000 Psionics, 2000 Non-Psionics, and 2000 Originators. They were Exiled to the Moon, for a period of one thousand years in suspended animation.
It was then that the Purges began. Through automatic systems set up before the Exile, they inhabitants of Terra were exterminated. A virus called the Ebon Death was the primary tool of the Purges. It had been fashioned from the DNA of a specific genetic line, whose name has been lost to the eons since. The Jensen, Tolliver, Stokes, Ferguson, and Silver lines were found to have a mysterious immunity to the Death. They, along with several other dissidents, escaped Earth for parts unknown. They later established the Starfire Club.
After the Purges were completed, Terra was terraformed into the most efficient planet science could produce. This was achieved through the creation of four Zones: the Industrial, the Residential, the Oceanic, and the Forested. These four Zones kept the planet harmonious, half of it sustaining a lush, massive forest and ocean, the other half containing the tremendous industry and populace of Earth. After the millennium of Exile ended in 9103, the 12000 returned to Earth. Humanity was about to enter its most prosperous age ever.
The difficulties surfaced when the Breeding Avowal was passed into law. The Council of the Twelve (five Normals, three Psionics, two Non-Psionics, and two Originators) made it illegal for Originators to breed, for they posed a danger to humanity's genetic integrity. Therefore, Originators would only reproduce through cloning, and all Originators would be sterilized at birth. The Originators on the council opposed such a law, arguing that it violated the civil and human rights of all Originators. The rest of the Council, however, agreed to the Doctrine. This law has since led to hundreds of skirmishes and at least a dozen wars between the Originators and the remainder of humanity. Still, the Breeding Avowal was not overturned.
Humankind prospered over the next 40 centuries, and the Originators slowly accepted their roles and restrictions. Time travel came into wide use, and it proved to be a most effective means of historical research. It quickly became a threat to the basic survival of humankind, as temporal anomalies appeared all across the universe. The new Earth colonies established in the cosmoswere virtually wiped out, and a space station was constructed at the heart of the universe, a place called the Nexus. It was called the End Point, and was to be the last defense in the event of a temporal Apocalypse.
A man calling himself Robert Maxwell arrived mysteriously at the dawn of the 500th Century. He claimed to be from another era, and confronted Earth with new ideas concerning time travel and ways to control it. He established an organization called the Department of Chronal Affairs, and began a heavy crackdown on the abuse of time travel.
At the close of the 500th Century, the human race was again confronted by change. The Starfire Club made a bid for power, the Originators began to revolt, the Radical began a revolution on the Outworlds, and Robert Maxwell, the Director of Chronal Affairs, was assassinated.
--End Prologue--
Chapter One
Part One: Circumstances of Concealment
The End Point. 49972 A.D. (20 years prior to the assassination)
"How could this have happened?" the Director asked his compatriot.
"Time holds infinite possibilities, Robert... as you are so fond of reminding me," his old friend, Solomon Kravitz, replied.
"Still... I can't see under what circumstances I would...err...procreate with Sharon Stokes...Theresa Rourke...whatever she calls...called herself... I mean...HER, of all people!"
"It could have been any of a hundred or so versions of yourself traipsing about the timestream. It wasn't necessarily 'you.'"
"Well, Arianna still bears my DNA. That's close enough."
"Where have you put the child?"
"My quarters, for now. She's sleeping."
"How is she?"
"She's completely repressed all of her memories leading up to the massacre of the United Hellfire Club. Which means my first encounter with her is now her earliest memory. She thinks I'm her father."
"Technically..."
"I know, I know. I hope I don't have any other kids I don't know about."
"You did have a hand in the inception of mutantkind, so you are a father to us all, in a way."
"Now that's never been proven, Solomon. Besides, it would create a causality paradox if it were true... and those just make my brain hurt. How could I create my own genetic heritage before I am even born? It makes no sense."
"Perhaps not to us, Robert. But there is much we do not know about Time."
"Yeah...anyway, back to Arianna. Why would she have Wade Wilson's surname?"
"Perhaps her true parentage was concealed. Or maybe your counterpart didn't even know the child was his. But it also suggests that Stokes and Wilson were married by the time of Arianna's birth. The kind of scandal resulting from an affair between 'you' and Siryn--especially one in which she conceives your child--would be disastrous to the Club."
"Not the Club I've seen. I think sex is all that ever happens with those people."
"This is all speculation, Robert. The Club in which this occurred may have seen Arianna's birth, and subsequent scandal, as a threat. A threat they had to suppress."
"Our records pertaining to that timeline are fragmentary, so you could be right. I guess we'll never really know what happened. The point is what we must do now, to keep this girl safe."
"You must raise her as if she were your own child. She must never be told where she came from, and we can tell no one who she really is. It would plunge our universe into chaos if anyone discovered that she was from such an entirely backward era as the 21st Century. I'll have to fabricate birth records, lineage data, and background to explain how she came into existence."
"One day, she'll be able to stop the Rift. I know she can do it... her powers...her mind.... they're more powerful than anything I've encountered. But the details of her origin must be concealed. Do you think I did the right thing when I pulled her into our time?"
"You did what you had to do, Robert. The Rift must be stopped, at any cost. Do you think the Rift will strike our era soon?"
"I'm projecting it hitting in about 30 years, barring any further Level One disruptions. The universe outside the Nexus will be wiped out in around 26 years. But once the Rift strikes our time, that's it. We won't get another chance, unless we send an operative into the end locus of the Rift, which is near 1998 A.D."
"Arianna would make an excellent operative."
"Agreed."
Part Two: Distant Starfires
The planet called Darktropolis.
It existed at the edge of the universe, in a cloud of dark matter that no light could penetrate. The region was called the Outworlds, and one world among them was known throughout the realm of Supreme Earth Holdings and Territories. SETH referred to the planet as the Darktropolis, a "non-affiliated" colony. It was a rogue planet, with no star for it to orbit. The planet was in perpetual night, and was populated by the lowlifes of the universe. It had been founded millennia before, by members of the Delcroix, Jensen, Tolliver, and Ferguson dynasties. It was during the Purges that they found this planet, and made it their home. It was, without a doubt, a hellhole. Murder, theft, violence, rape--all crimes, all criminals had a home here, in the massive City on the surface. They called it, in fact, the City...as if none else mattered. In the center of the city loomed a clock tower, said to be the first building constructed on this world. It was an old face clock, an antique from a now nameless era. It was frozen at 3:10. The face of the clock retained its illumination, the brightest sight in the bleak metropolis. 3:10, it was said, was the time that the dark god fell into the abyss of insanity. It was said, also, that he annihilated ten billion souls with a thought, with no provocation whatsoever. The date of this incident was notoriously unknown, but it would be a dangerous--fatal--mistake to doubt the legend. Displeasure of the dark god had only a single price.
Most of the City was rundown and dilapidated, much of it contaminated with lethal biotoxins, waste products, and residual radiation from some forgotten war. The areas were nonetheless populated, as there was no other choice. Before they drifted off into slumber each "night," they looked to the clock tower, and bid respect to the Control. And in their dreams, they wondered if they would awaken again... or be slain casually by some stray thought from the Control.
He, of course, couldn't care less. He knew the populace both feared and worshiped him, but he remained unmoved. He was known to them as the Control... perhaps it was the only name he could now recall. His true name was never uttered... not by anyone still living, at least. Many thought he had no body, and was truly as a god. Some believed he was representative of a god. But none had gazed upon his visage. None, that is, save for his closest allies, his Inner Circle. And even they were subject to his whims. As he thought of them, he bathed his world in Red. It was the Calling. He gazed upon his monstrous clock face, and it too was Red. Like a seductive whisper that worked its way through the City, it found its targets. The Inner Circle stirred. It was an invitation they could not--dare not--refuse.
The first to arrive was Sominus, scion of the McMendl family. He was Bishop of the Starfire Club. The Queen, Arcturus, entered second. She had lived since the 19th Century, born Elaida Tolliver. She took her current name from the location of her last supposed "death." The Knight was Galen, said to be descended from the child of the Grove. The characteristically blue skin of his family line had not flowered in him, and his skin was a pasty gray, not the vibrant sapphire of previous generations. The Rook was Flashfire, a member of the Stokes dynasty. He was one of a set of triplets, one having been snatched at birth by the Department, the other's whereabouts having been completely unknown. The Pawn was Ordnance, once called Luna. Her first action had been to assassinate the Dreamer, last descendant of the Ferguson line. The Scribe called herself the Risen, but had once been called Outburst. It was said she carried the soul of Justin Mills within a crystal that she wore upon a necklace.
They all stood at attention, waiting for the words of the Control. The Red slowly slipped away, and he began as usual, skipping pointless greetings.
"Find the haven that lies in the arms of the damned. It is outside that the haven waits. Outside and in. With the damned. Find the haven."
His words boomed through the clock tower. All of him was disguised in shadow, excluding the purple cloak he wore over his body. His eyes glowed Red... but only as he willed it. Be it his wish, he could be as invisible as the stale air of the City.
Sominus knelt before his master. "We exist only for you, my King."
"Lie! Untruth!" The Control's eyes communicated his sentiments as effectively as his voice. They were flaring an intense Red. "Find the haven! Kill the damned! Bring the haven inside! Cure this darkness!"
His followers, sensing his words were ended, stood and departed. They would begin their search at once.
Part Three: Evolution of the Department
Around the same time. The End Point.
The End Point was deceptively simplistic in architecture: one sphere surrounded by six concentric rings, which rotated around the inner sphere. They enveloped the heart of the station in what had been termed a "hyperbolic chronal dissociative matrix". In other words, the station experienced no passage of time when the Matrix was fully active. This had the benefit of defending the station against chronal disruptions, but it made the use of the station impractical: if time never passed there, how would anyone within ever know what was occurring outside? Therefore, the Matrix was designed to be deactivated and reactivated constantly, creating enough temporal flux so that the station experienced time at a standard rate, while retaining the protection of the Matrix.
When he first proposed the End Point to SETH, Robert Maxwell was met with scorn and disbelief. No one on the Council thought his plan was feasible. So it was doubly shocking when he actually submitted full blueprints, schematics, and technical diagrams of his would-be space station. He had neglected to mention that he had purchased them from an Oolian national in the late 36th Century (apparently mankind was sorely primitive in the realm of chronal manipulation, even by the 500th Century). The Council was cautiously grateful to the man who had all but literally fallen upon their doorstep, and carefully evaluated his submissions. Engineering said the designs were sound, and so began construction. The End Point was completed in five years, and Robert Maxwell was placed in charge. The Department of Chronal Affairs was chartered shortly thereafter. Despite the considerable investment by SETH in the End Point facility, they considered it of marginal importance, and curtailed the powers of the Department. This did not deter the Director, however, for he had resources to which SETH was not privy. And even though the responsibilities of the Department were only vaguely outlined, Maxwell had a very specific mission in mind. He would stop all time travel, by any means possible. To that end, a system of time buoys was scattered about the timestream. They would, at random, pluck a passerby from the stream, where they would be interrogated and warned by Department personnel. A series of penalties were established, and the Director began the next task: recruitment of personnel. He had been assigned a kindly gentleman of 146 years, named Solomon Kravitz. Solomon was an Originator who had managed to acquire some degree of political influence within SETH. They were a bit troubled by his ideas (equality for Originators, repealment of the Breeding Avowal, etc.) so they opted to place him in a fairly insignificant position: Administrator to the Department. He also acted as government attaché, speaking for SETH during Department briefings. He answered only to SETH, and had substantial leeway when making decisions. The Director, against the wishes of SETH, granted him more freedoms, but they did not press the issue, simply glad to have him out of their breathing spaces.
The next recruit was a Linguist by the name of Tyler Nesting. A young man of 29, he was also a Psionic. He could interpret the thoughts of anyone he encountered, even if he could not comprehend their language. But his talent also allowed him to learn other tonguespeaks with remarkable ease, making him a superb Linguist. He was also reserved and shy, and always remained so.
After Tyler was Political Specialist Sarah Silver. A Psionic endowed with the bizarre ability to decompose and regenerate metals, she was also a gifted speaker. She could rally a world to war, or calm the most unruly of mobs with the power of her voice. Young and impulsive at 28, she was eager to be part of a cause.
Those four were the core of the Department for several years, until the Director made sweeping changes in the activities of his organization. It began when a peculiar temporal flux appeared within the Nexus, the locus of the universe, which the End Point orbited. The chronal holes that had formed long before Maxwell's arrival began to grow, and a violent shockwave ripped forth from the Nexus. It caused widespread electromagnetic storms, and then subsided. But the Department discovered an effect far more sinister: it had begun a cross-temporal chain reaction that would, in time, consume all of history. It seemed to change direction constantly, moving past-future, then future-past, and back. But the end result was unmistakable: a universe, a multiverse, completely destroyed. Its very existence was paradoxical, so they knew of no way to combat it. They termed it the Rift, and observed it carefully.
They began recruiting again, hoping they would find a young (or old) genius who would help them stop the Rift. Adam Axleton was their first find. He was, even though a Normal, exceptionally bright. He was immediately made a technician.
Then came Rebekah Corbett. She had a knack for recalling information, and so was made an Archivist.
Mordekai Stokes became the Department's Enforcer. He had at least one identical sibling who was known to be residing with the Starfire Club, and had heard talk of yet another twin, whose whereabouts were unknown. He had sufficiently enhanced strength to be called a Non-Psionic.
The next recruit was Isaiah Ferguson, believed to be the son of the Dreamer. He had a perplexing link to the souls of others, and could make warm the heart of the bitterest soldiers. His talent made him an excellent Operative.
Another was the Director's own daughter, Arianna Maxwell. She, along with a boy named Caeleb Arvin, were housed on the End Point at the age of five. In that year of 49,972, no one could have guessed the roles these two would play in the destiny of the Department.
--End Chapter One--Coming Next: The tale of Arianna and Caeleb begins, Plus: the Radical.
Chapter Two
Part One: A Simple Mission
1037 A.D. Scotland.
Tyler Nesting was fumbling with his equipment, looking for the specific tool his job required. He had accomplished his mission in this time, and was preparing to return home. A group of tourists from his time, using a chartered temporal excursion service, had landed in this era to observe an ancient battle between two warring Scottish tribes. Unfortunately, the tourists had gotten a bit too close to the battle, and upset its outcome. The resulting temporal disruption was serious enough to warrant intervention, and Nesting was sent back to prevent the occurrence. He succeeded in keeping the tourists away from the war, and sent them back to their own time with a warning. Next time, it would be necessary to press charges, and investigate the company that organized the trip. Sometimes he really hated his job, having to nursemaid people from his time that were so horribly bored that they had to interfere with history, calling it "entertainment". He found nothing entertaining in watching nations be destroyed and created because of some fool's interference.
And so he was in this cave, with his wrist cut open to allow him access to his tether. The tether kept him linked to the End Point across the timespan, and could be used to pull him out in the event of lethal dangers. His tether had been damaged from a fall he took, and he had to repair it. His nanospanner was working in repairing it, the purple beam scattering all across the tiny piece of hardware, reconstructing its damaged portions. After the first few times, it became less painful cutting his wrist to access the tether. He had balked at the idea when the Director first explained the use of tethers to him. "The tethers have a large amount of shielding, for the same reason the End Point does: to reduce the effects of temporal disruption. That's why you can't simply send a beam through your skin and repair the tether. You have to physically get to it." That's what the Director had told him. Of course, it was nice having the small pen-like cylinder that could easily open and close the wound by him drawing it across his skin. He wondered how long his report would be this time... the Director wasn't particularly fond of them, though SETH was very interested in the Department's activities. If the Director had his way, they would only file reports for vital missions. Nesting sighed as he sealed up his wrist, his tether repaired. He gathered up the modest equipment he had brought, and the large case shrunk to fit in his palm. Miniaturization was an advance that, it was rumored, had been stolen from the Trevorans during the End Conflicts. The Trevorans, perpetually enslaved by the Koraxians, were exterminated by the Koraxians during the war. A Derris Cascade destroyed the planet, and the few human operatives on it barely managed to flee with scraps of Trevoran technology. He shook off the thought, deciding it was pointless to feel sorry for long-dead peoples, long-obliterated planets. He activated his tether, and was shunted to the End Point.
Part Two: The Skratla Incident
The End Point. 49972 A.D.
Arianna Maxwell slept restlessly on the Director's large bed. The thermal blankets made her too hot, and removing them left her shivering. The strange hummings of the End Point's ever-present Matrix kept her from sleeping, and clangings from the station's internal systems continuously startled her. She was a scared, lonely, and anxious five-year-old. She could hardly remember anything before today... just shreds of fading memories, people she no longer knew. Her father had said he would be back after finishing a recalibration. She had no idea what he was referring to, but since he said he was her father, she decided to believe him. He was the only memory that she truly recognized, and she felt safe around him. He told her to lay down and sleep, and not get into trouble, then departed. And so here she lay, turning and squirming in the bed, sleepless.
Suddenly, she heard a squeaking sound. It sounded like some sort of animal, and she sat up in the bed. She saw something crawling across the floor, and left the bed to pursue it. She never shied away from the strange and unusual. Her inquisitive nature refused to let her sit idly by as something scurried around the room. She saw the black mass directly in front of her, in the dark. She dove for it, and it squealed loudly at her. There was a strange popping sound, and she felt something slimy and sticky all over her. She immediately scrambled away from it, and realized that there was no more sound. "'s so dark 'n here... wish there was some lights." Unknowingly activating the light systems, Arianna jumped as the lights came on. There was only a green splotch on the floor where the creature had gone, and she looked at her arms. Covered in the same green goo. Abruptly, a "ding" came from the entrance to the Director's quarters. "What's that?" She went to the door, and heard it again. She began pushing buttons on a console, and the door opened. Before her stood a boy, about the same age, with brown hair and grey eyes. He was wearing a blue jumpsuit, and he bore an innocent expression. "Hi... have you seen my pet?" Then he noticed the green mess all over her nightgown. "Oh... I guess ya have!"
"What was that thing?" she asked.
"It was my Vorchon Skratla... they blow up when they get scared!"
"Ewwww..." she said disgustedly.
"Y'know," the boy said, "We could wash ya off in the pool!"
"But I dunno how to swim!"
"I c'n teach ya!"
"What's your name?" Arianna asked.
"I'm Caeleb! What's your name?"
"Ari."
"So you wanna go to the pool?"
"Sure!" she agreed. Without saying another word, Caeleb ran down the corridor, and Arianna chased after him.
Part Three: Classified Records
Elsewhere in the End Point.
The Director sipped his synthetic coffee, avoiding the urge to gag. He was disappointed that when the Earth was re-terraformed, they decided against keeping the genetic profile for coffee beans. Instead, they devised a synthetic substitute that was to be "as good as the real thing," thinking no one would be able to tell the difference. Robert Maxwell most certainly could, but he had no one to complain to. Those who had carried out the Resolution of the Twelve Thousand, and by extension, extincted coffee beans, had been dead for millennia. So he took one of the paper-thin dataslips from his desk, and read the report on it. It was about the current state of affairs outside the End Point, and he scrutinized each detail.
Sovereign Louis Uxbridge completed his tour of the new colonies near the Outworlds this 7-cycle. The Lacunae and Xerrix colonies were settled by six hundred Psionics, and eleven hundred Normals, respectively. He had this response to the increased threat of Radical activity along the Outworld border:
"The Radical can send as many craft as he wishes into our sovereign territory, and we shall terminate every one of them. SETH does not suffer terrorists lightly, and my administration will see to it that the Radical is extradited from New Avalon, and tried on Earth. We are currently working on an operation that will bring the Radical into our hands, and end his threat forever."
Sovereign Uxbridge would not elaborate on this "operation," and with good reason. Subsequent article explains.
The Director moved his eyes downward, prompting the dataslip to scroll to the next point of interest. It was a report on a collaborative effort between SETH and the Starfire Club.
SETH is currently engaged in negotiations with the infamous Starfire Club. The Club has agreed to aid SETH in apprehending the notorious Radical. Living in the Outworlds, the Club has more direct access, and more knowledge of the region than any of SETH's forces. Ninety thousand SETH troops are standing by to invade the Outworlds at the slightest sign of treachery, or in the event that a full-scale invasion of New Avalon is warranted. This document is CLASSIFIED.
He smiled at that last sentence. He always found a way to extract classified data, having shown Adam and Solomon how to break into SETH databases and military compsystems. He was slightly disturbed by this latest development, however, since the Club was notorious for serving its own interests. He pulled up the historical records on the Starfire Club, and looked for the specific piece of information that would confirm his suspicions. He quickly located it.
August 3rd, 31283 A.D. The planned invasion of the Outworlds has been deemed a complete failure, with the loss of all assets and equipment. Three capital ships had attempted to cross into the Outworld realm, and were about to commence the orbital bombardment of Darktropolis when a shockwave of unknown origin obliterated their vessels. The rest of the fleet was destroyed in much the same way, with a total loss of nine hundred capital ships, fifty thousand medium-class fighters, and ten billion lives. Commander-in-Chief Crius Mackenzie was among the dead. All records pertaining to this operation have been subsequently destroyed, and deniability has been ensured. This document is to be held on system lock for a period of ten thousand years, at which time it will be made accessible.
Robert Maxwell remembered reading other records that had been recovered pertaining to this operation. Communiques had been being sent back and forth between Earth and Darktropolis for several decades, until a peace treaty was negotiated and agreed to. The fleet was then to surreptitiously overrun the defenses of Darktropolis and destroy the Starfire Club in its entirety. Events he had witnessed in his travels led him to believe that Ryan Jensen was responsible for the massacre of the fleet. The one time he was on Darktropolis, it felt like a nineteenth-century European city with a bizarre mix of technology. He recalled the three men that had tried to kill him, and was forced to slay them. He knew that Darktropolis was nothing but trouble, and no good could come from any alliance or peace made with the Starfire Club.
Solomon entered the Director's office, and was smiling broadly. "Robert, there is something that requires your attention."
"Well, what is it?" the Director said, still keeping his eyes on the dataslip.
"Check sec-monitor 37."
The Director linked his cybernetic systems directly into the End Point's security-monitor system, and connected to monitor 37. If he recalled correctly, that was the monitor for the pool. He cleared up the image through various filtering methods until he got a clear picture in his mind, and noticed two forms in the pool. He magnified and enhanced the image until he could make them out, and started laughing.
"Arianna is in the pool? At least she's in the very shallow end... Are the robotic lifeguards working properly?"
"Oh, yes... there is no danger to the children."
"Who is the boy?"
"Caeleb Arvin, a child we found in the potential-operative database. He can be inducted into the Department as an active operative as early as twelve years of age."
"Is that something green floating around them?"
"The remains of a Vorchon Skratla, which Caeleb apparently generated out of the generecs."
"Who is Caeleb's guardian?"
"Adam Axleton."
"Ah, that's right. Shall we go to the pool and retrieve the children? It's actually been awhile since I've done a few laps in the pool myself."
"Very well," Solomon agreed. "Then we shall find out why our Technician is being derelict in his responsibilities to Caeleb."
Part Four: Radical Methods
New Avalon.
The planet existed in the Outworlds, far enough from Darktropolis to be noticeable, but close enough to know that they did not get along very well. The Radical, at least, had a serious problem with the Starfire Club. They were in competition for the same goal: the destruction of SETH, and the institution of their own governments. He resided in a compound on New Avalon, a forested area far from the main colony. He was wanted, dead or alive, by SETH. Previous attempts to assassinate him had all failed miserably, though each time they got closer and closer to accomplishing their objective. He needed someone to aid him, someone outside New Avalon. Behind him stood Thurston Stokes, the "lost" Stokes triplet. He recalled that fateful day when the three triplets were ripped from the womb of their mother. An unusual collaborative effort on the parts of the Department of Chronal Affairs, the Radical, and the Starfire Club led to the abduction of all three infants. They were stolen right out of their mother, a few weeks prematurely, and she was cast into an airlock by an agent of the Starfire Club. Each organization had one child. Whether or not any of the three were Ascended was pure speculation, but the Radical was nearly certain. He looked at the most recent dispatches from the End Point, provided to him by an ally in the SETH government, and a certain individual caught his eye. Caeleb Arvin, now only five years old... but what of the possibilities? The child was a true genius, finding flaws in intelligence tests that even the greatest minds of the universe had not discovered. The Department had apparently acquired him, his parents willingly giving him up for a "better future". Sickening. But the child looked to have enormous potential... and whatever the Radical wanted, the Radical was sure to get.
--End Chapter Two--
Chapter Three
Part One: Roots of Rebellion
The End Point. 49972 A.D. (still 20 years until assassination).
Solomon Kravitz sat before his terminal, pondering the day's events. He and the Director had found Arianna and Caeleb in the pool, frolicking about like children. Of course, they were children. Where Solomon was terribly annoyed by their irresponsibility, the Director merely laughed and watched the spectacle. The remains of the exploded Skratla were quickly filtered out of the water, and the Director helped Arianna to a drying chamber. In less than three seconds, she was dry, and smiling at her father. Caeleb was a bit more difficult to handle, however, and Solomon had to chase him down several corridors before the boy would submit to being dried. He had considered reprimanding Axleton for leaving the child unattended, but decided not to. There were other, more pressing, concerns for both he and Adam Axleton to deal with. Solomon finally allowed himself a chuckle, admitting that it was a bit humorous to chase Caeleb Arvin halfway across the End Point.
It was now late at night, and he tapped his fingers on the synthetic wooden desk. Everyone else seemed to be fond of the metallic working surfaces, but Solomon much preferred the "natural" look. And a synthetic wooden desk was the best he could do. He glanced up at the paintings in his quarters, seeing the replicas that adorned his walls. The one over his bed was a DeVurie, painted during the End Conflicts. It was a representation of the fall of the Fiends, Elim's fist crashing down upon the worlds being oppressed. He kept the painting as a reminder to himself, that oppression would always exist, despite all attempts to correct and eliminate it. He often saw himself as Elim. Whereas Elim stopped the Fiends from destroying humanity, Solomon would stop humanity from destroying the Originators. His own people needed him, even if they didn't realize it. Some of them had realized this, and he was quickly drawn into their plans. In fact, one of them was about to contact him on this very night.
His desk beeped. "Accept transmission," Solomon said. A column of light sprouted from the desk's surface, sparkling blue and white, and gradually coalescing into an image of Jouko Lazar. "Jouko," Solomon said.
"Solomon," his friend replied. "How are things?"
"The same as usual. Looking for ways to stop the Rift, and finding none."
"Don't concern yourself too much. Someone will find a way to stop it."
"Your optimism has always been your undoing, Jouko," Solomon said seriously.
"When can we proceed with our plans?" Jouko asked, moving on to the point of this communication.
"I am scheduled to be cloned in three years. If I succeed in giving my clone reproductive capability, we will be one step closer to our freedom."
"Which facility will be performing your cloning procedure?"
Solomon double-checked his desk console, making sure the comm-channel was secured. "It will take place at Legeere. Do you have a plan for getting me past the automatic genetic blocks?"
Jouko nodded. "I'm transmitting the program that will allow you to reconfigure your clone's DNA. Look at address L-zero-one-eight for the reproductive sequence. Change it from zero to one, and you're done. Let the cloning tanks do their job."
"Three years, Jouko. In three years, all the dreams of our people will be realized."
His friend smiled broadly. "And you say I'm too optimistic. Just remember to use the scanner feedback algorithm i gave you. It will tell all of Legeere's technicians that your clone is a completely neutered Originator."
"Of course. I still have the specs in my protected file."
"Then I'll be signing off now. I'll contact you again whenever I can... but you know how hard it is to keep running from Uxbridge's thugs."
"Take care, Jouko."
"Jouko Lazar out," his friend said, and then the column of light vanished, leaving Solomon in near-darkness again. He accessed the program Jouko sent him, and stored it in the protected file, with the scanner feedback algorithm. For a moment, his thoughts turned to Arianna. Could she someday be turned to their cause? As he crawled into his bed, he debated the possibilities with himself, and fell asleep.
Part Two: Liaisons
The Director's quarters.
Robert Maxwell entered his quarters, finding one of only two people he ever expected to find waiting for him. One was Arianna Maxwell, his daughter. The other...
"Sarah," he said cheerfully. "Your quarters getting too warm again?"
Sarah Silver smiled at him. "I think your quarters are a bit too hot, as well. Maybe you can help me cool off?"
"I don't know what is in the genes of you people, but for you being 56 years old, you have the sex drive of a teenager."
"As if you don't enjoy it!" she teased.
"I never said I didn't enjoy it," he said as he put his arms around her. "I just don't know what it is you see in me."
"It must be that accent of yours," she said. "After all, you didn't speak a bit of Standard when you first dropped into our time."
"Not true," he protested. "Standard is a mix of English, French, German, Japanese, Swahili, and at least a dozen other languages. I could speak it a little bit when I first got here."
"You still have an accent."
"It doesn't sound bad, does it?"
"Not at all," she said, and then kissed him.
"Where did you put Ari?" he asked, suddenly remembering his daughter.
"Oh, she's staying in Adam's quarters. Caeleb asked if she could spend the night. I believe the ancient term was 'sleepover'?"
"That's the one. So it's just you, me, and some Time?"
"When to, Mr. Director?"
"I'm in the mood for something Asian... South China Sea, sometime in the late twenty-third century. I have heard there is a restaurant that has the most exquisite blend of Terran, Koraxian, and Cranion cuisine you've ever tasted! I'll show you the island when we get to the time chamber," he said.
She smiled and took his hand. As they began to walk out of his quarters, she turned to him. "Is it true that it was taboo to engage in romantic liaisons with subordinates in your time period?"
"We're not in my time period," he grinned.
Part Three: Sominus' Plot Unfolds
A nebula several light years from Darktropolis.
Sominus looked out the massive viewport on his ship, admiring the nebula before him. His ally had arranged this meeting, and Sominus was early. He wondered if the Discarded truly cared about time at all. Being the only nonhuman survivors of the End Conflicts, he imagined they had little to live for. There were a hundred of them, at most, and their numbers were always dwindling. For every alien that was born, two were hunted down and killed by SETH's forces. Sominus almost felt sorry for them. Almost, since his own species had been similarly treated. His bloodline would have been erased during the Purges, had the one now called the Control not helped his distant ancestor to flee Earth.
His attention returned to the nebula in front of his ship. It was a deep shade of velvet, and it glimmered at points where protons and electrons were slamming into one another, releasing free quarks, and large amounts of energy. The ambient energy in the nebula made it a splendid source of fuel, and he imagined that the Discarded needed to make a fuel stop here. His own ship carried sufficient fuel for the time being. He was hoping that the Control wouldn't notice him gone, and that he would be back to Darktropolis in time for the next Calling. He was nearly frightened out of his wits when his ship shuddered, and a massive vessel appeared outside his viewport. A red indicator on a nearby console glared at him, and he rotated it to "Receive".
"The years don't treat your species well, do they?" a voice called over the comm-link.
"I activated my visual, Daemon. You can activate yours."
"It's Daemon-Ra, thank you." The viewport shimmered and formed the image of a dark-skinned humanoid, with hauntingly dark eyes. Daemon-Ra had no hair, except for the small goatee he still retained from the days he was simply Daemon. "Why is a visual so important to you?" he asked.
Sominus was having a bit of difficulty in receiving Daemon-Ra's transmission, and so raised the automatic gain control to compensate. When he finally figured out what the leader of the Discarded was saying, he replied. "It allows me to tell if you are lying, and I just prefer speaking 'face-to-face', as the expression went."
"Human customs have been mostly redundant, in my experience."
"I'm not going to get into another historical debate with you, Daemon-Ra. Do you have what I asked for?"
"I certainly do. Do you have the medical supplies we requested?"
"Naturally. So where did you find the plans for an old Koraxian mindblank?"
"Well, we located a place that was called 'MemCore' in ancient Terran English. It had partial schematics. My onboard Koraxian friends managed to fill in the rest, with a few enhancements. May I ask where you got eighty kilograms of medical supplies?"
"Flashfire's fleet took down one of SETH's troop convoys a few days ago. He had some things salvaged... medical supplies being among them. No one will miss them."
"Shall we perform our exchange, then?" Daemon-Ra inquired.
Sominus nodded, and moved a green control upwards. A blue light flashed three times to inform him that the transfer was complete, and he looked back at Daemon-Ra's transmitted image. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you," he said.
"If I didn't have to deal with Earthling platitudes, I would be able to say the same thing," Daemon-Ra replied. "Renegade out."
Daemon-Ra's image vanished, and Sominus once again saw the nebula. The Discarded's ship, the Renegade, wandered farther into the nebula to retrieve fuel, as he suspected. It was rocked by several high-energy reactions in the space around it, but remained mostly undamaged. The ship itself was a wreck, barely spaceworthy, but Daemon-Ra somehow managed to keep it in a single piece. Sominus couldn't help admiring him, leading a hundred refugees through a universe that was almost entirely hostile to them. Only a great leader could keep the confidence and trust of his fellows for so long.
Sominus turned his ship back toward Darktropolis, and went to the cargo bay to examine his new mindblank. The legendary Koraxian weapon was now his, and he would be certain to make sure he was not shortchanged.
--End Chapter Three--
Chapter Four
Part One: Amiel Kravitz
Legeere Station. 49975 A.D. (17 years until assassination).
The ensuing three years were relatively uneventful for the citizens of SETH. Sovereign Uxbridge continued his secret negotiations with the Starfire Club, as the Radical continued to amass ships and supplies on New Avalon. The Department of Chronal Affairs still made every effort to reduce time travel, and lessen its destructive effects. They were pleased to learn that the advance of the Rift had been slowed, and they were able to scale back their impact projections by two years. It was not great news, but it at least indicated that they were making an impact. The Director continued to develop his relationship with Sarah Silver, becoming more and more enamored of the Department's Political Specialist. Tyler Nesting suffered a grievous injury during a mission to the 213th Century, and was forced to step back from performing field work. Adam Axleton continued raising Caeleb Arvin, and Caeleb and Arianna began their schooling. By 49975, they had mastered calculus, knew as much of human history as most of SETH's citizens, and Arianna had been adequately trained in her genetic abilities. Rebekah Corbett retained her position as Archivist, and kept very accurate records of Department activities. She eventually learned of Solomon's involvement in the Originators' plot, but never spoke of it. Solomon himself suspected that the Director already knew of his plans, but decided that his superior was feigning ignorance to protect the Department, and perhaps out of loyalty to Solomon himself. Mordekai Stokes took up the role of commanding the Department's newly-commissioned fleet. Six long-range timepods were assigned to the Department, and he was in charge of training personnel and organizing missions using those pods. Isaiah Ferguson performed his duties as an Operative very well, quickly becoming a specialist in 21st Century situations. All things considered, the Department was a better organization after those three years. Then came the first complication.
...
Solomon Kravitz stepped out of his courier craft, and saw the men welcoming him. They stared at him disdainfully, obviously thinking him less than human. Such a reaction was all too common for his people, since they all were susceptible to some sort of genetic defect. His own family line had a very particular defect: poor eyesight. While such a thing could easily be corrected by the time of the Purges, it was determined that genetically-determined defects such as his were unacceptable. He was fortunate that his gene-template had been selected as one of the two thousand Originators. He felt the plight of his race, always thinking of what had been done to them. They were kept around as nothing more than a reminder of the war-torn monster humanity used to be... and yet, it seemed that homo sapiens had not come very far at all! Still engaging in conflicts with the rogue nations of the Outworlds, oppressing the Originators, suppressing information that could damage the government... how could they call it "progress"?
As he entered the cloning lab, he was greeted by the resident cloning specialist. "I'm Doctor Leslie McPeak," the man said, keeping his hands clasped behind his back. Solomon recognized the insult, as the doctor had not offered his hand in greeting. That sort of treatment was a fact of life for him. What did it take for an Originator to be respected by the rest of humanity?
"Right this way, Mr. Kravitz," McPeak said, directing him to a series of machines. Solomon recalled the cerebral implant that Jouko had given him, and he activated it. It was to give him access to the clone-control computers, and he could use them to rewrite the specific genetic sequences that would give his clone reproductive capability. He looked over the machines, making certain McPeak suspected nothing, and felt an electrical impulse that told him the linkup was successful. He held out his hand as McPeak took the necessary genetic sample to begin the cloning process, and set about his own task. He passed the individual genetic directives as they were input into the computer, seeing such things as "Encephalographic Modulation Ratio," "Psionic Disposition Level," and "Subject Intellect Potential." He finally came to the reproductive sequence, and modified it to his advantage. McPeak didn't notice the alteration, and Solomon quickly closed the link, just in case a monitor could pick up his implant's signal. McPeak looked away from the dataslip he was holding, and to the cloning tank where Solomon's clone would be generated. Solomon took a deep breath as he watched the development of a creature that was, as far as DNA was concerned, him. It grew before his eyes, proceeding rapidly through every stage of fetal development, secured in an artificial placenta, gestating at an accelerated rate. Solomon looked at the object to which the umbilical cord was attached, and recognized it as a medical nutrient supplement dispenser. He deduced that such a dispenser could be adapted to nourish a developing human embryo, and continued to watch in fascination. Dr. McPeak retrieved a thermal wrap from a nearby countertop and waited as the machine severed the umbilical cord at precisely the correct stage of development. A mechanical arm reached into the tank, and wrapped its cold digits around the infant, lifting it out. The baby was delivered into McPeak's thermal wrap, and Solomon's clone was quickly dried. Solomon activated the scanner feedback algorithm as McPeak checked the child's status. "Looks like you have a healthy, non-reproduction-capable clone." He handed the baby to Solomon, who cradled it in his arms. "Thank you, Doctor."
"If there is nothing further, you can return to the End Point," McPeak said, then retired to his office. Solomon breathed a sigh of relief as he left the facility, and entered his craft. As the autopilot became active, he scrutinized the tiny face, and looked as the baby's eyes opened. "Hello, Amiel Kravitz," he said, smiling.
Part Two: Internal Security
The End Point.
Director Maxwell closed his eyes, trying to forget his external reality. The Rift, activity in the Outworlds, his own increasing paranoia. The more he tried to control things, the more the universe spun wildly out of control. Arianna was his foremost priority. He knew she had the intelligence to stop the Rift. He also knew that contacting his "alternate" may be necessary. The Harbinger had Inferno, and, like it or not, the Director would probably require the ship. His own timeship, Paradise Lost, would be required as well. He became more and more worried every time his craft vanished into the timestream, and scans were blocked by interference from the Rift. The only good news was that the Rift had been slowed slightly, and they were very gradually gaining time. He calculated that in ten years, the Rift would still be thirty years from striking this time. But that didn't protect the rest of history, or the future, for that matter. He needed the Harbinger, but the Harbinger was not likely to be willing to relinquish Inferno. But then, that's why he had Arianna. She would be able to persuade him, if no one else could. His thoughts were pushed aside by a telepathic sensation, a sensation of calmly ordered thoughts, and very closely guarded secrets. Only two organizations within SETH trained their agents to block telepathy so effectively. Someone from either SETH Intelligence or the Internal Security Corporate was on the station. The door to his office opened without warning, and he sat upright in his chair. The intruder closed the door behind him and proceeded to place a triangular object on the Director's desk, and a sound dampening field went up around the entire office. "Director Robert Maxwell, I am Subordinate Noah Quinteros of ISC. We have a problem."
The Director smiled at the young man's rapid manner, and tapped his desk. "What might that problem be, Mr. Quinteros?"
"You are aware that your Administrator, Solomon Kravitz, went to Legeere Station to have himself cloned yesterday, correct?"
"I am."
"We have learned that he has covertly endowed his clone with reproductive capability. You know that Originators are strictly forbidden to procreate."
"Are you implying I had something to do with this? If so, I would recommend you provide satisfactory evidence to support such a conclusion."
"We are not implying anything, Maxwell. But we cannot condone Kravitz's actions, either. When he returns to the End Point, he is to be incarcerated on the penal colony at Mrrapphia."
"And why have you decided to make this known to me?"
"His clone is a little more difficult to deal with. That is why we are consulting you."
"Do you wish for me to keep the child here, and raise it? I doubt SETH would order you to murder an infant."
"You are correct. To avoid an incident, we would like the child to be raised here. But there are a few conditions by which you and he must abide."
"And those are?"
"He is not to be allowed to engage in any sort of sexual activity. When he reaches puberty, we can sterilize him. We do not wish to attempt such a procedure now. If he, at any point, impregnates a female, then you will be arrested and imprisoned. He will be executed, along with the woman he impregnates, thereby terminating the pregnancy. His genetic line will be erased. Solomon Kravitz's fate has already been sealed... he is to live out the remainder of his life in prison."
"I shall not submit to have his clone sterilized."
Quinteros' eyes widened, and his hands tensed. "You would refuse a direct command from SETH?"
"I will not allow such a perversion of the law. He is entitled to choose his destiny. If he does not want to be sterilized, then I will not allow him to be."
"I suggest you read up on your history, Maxwell. This sort of thing has happened before. There are precedents. In every case, the Originator in question was sterilized. These measures are necessary to keep Originators in their place."
"'Keep them in their place.' I can't believe I just heard you say that," Maxwell said angrily.
"How does it offend you?"
"Things very similar to that have been spoken throughout history... people being denied basic rights for the supposed purpose of maintaining order. I am warning you now, Quinteros... tell you superiors that if they make any attempt to force Solomon's clone to be sterilized, I will do whatever it takes to stop it."
"You would be making a grievous error," Quinteros said matter-of-factly.
"Perhaps. Is our business done?"
"It is. You will be notified the moment Kravitz is apprehended, and his clone will be placed in the custody of Ms. Silver as its legal guardian." Quinteros picked up his sound dampener from the desk, and left the office. He gave the Director a cautionary glance as he left, as if in warning to what would happen if Maxwell resisted the will of SETH.
The Director turned his chair to face the large window in his office. He stared into the Nexus, the heart of the universe, and lost himself in it. It was unsettling for him to be losing Solomon's guidance and advice, but it would not be the end of their friendship. He would visit him on Mrrapphia from time to time, he was certain. And Solomon's clone would be raised as his "father" would have wanted.
Part Three: The Radical's Strike
A ship a few parsecs from New Avalon.
The Radical sighed, tapping the console on the arm of his chair. Waiting to ambush a SETH convoy was less than fun, though there was no argument as to its importance. If the weapons those ships were ferrying to Darktropolis and the other Outworld nations passed through, then New Avalon would be all too vulnerable to a strike. He watched as Thurston Stokes walked casually onto the bridge and took his seat at the tactical console. While his pupil was attempting to hide it, the Radical knew Thurston was nervous. He had sheltered the young man on New Avalon for all his life, letting him live out his life as a citizen of New Avalon. The Radical's predecessor had been the one to actually acquire the boy. But then, his predecessor had also been called the Radical. Someday, Thurston could be the next Radical. SETH was too powerful an organization to stand unopposed, and the Radical offered an avenue for expending SETH's resources. He was elusive, cunning, and driven. His strategies utterly boggled SETH tacticians. Logistics had the impossible task of finding ways to get supplies to other planets in the Outworlds, and were outwitted by the Radical nearly every time. Once in a great while, SETH was fortunate, and a few ships would escape the Radical's substantial strike fleets. Sensor screening technology had been perfected only by scientists on New Avalon, and it was a very closely guarded secret. SETH went to great lengths to capture vessels equipped with such devices, with no success. Any attempt by an enemy force to board one of the Radical's ships led to self-destruct one hour after penetration. Usually, it was triggered sooner by SETH soldiers trying to steal sensor screens. Any such tampering resulted in instant self-destruct. Paranoia was one of the Radical's greatest assets. And against an enemy as overbearing as Supreme Earth Territories and Holdings, one could not take too many precautions.
The bridge of the Radical's ship was stripped down to the bare essentials: weapons, damage control, propulsion, and sensors. Navigation could be controlled from elsewhere on the ship, and all other functions were simply unnecessary. There was no forward viewscreen as on SETH ships. Instead, a smaller screen appeared before the Radical, displaying an image from any angle outside the ship. When Thurston detected the SETH convoy, the Radical was immediately informed. His viewer flashed to a visual of the convoy. Three freighters, and eight fighter escorts. Sending out a screened probe, he learned that the ships were transporting thousands of metric tons of high explosive (probably packed within proximity mines), hundreds of weapons suited to ground combat, and general purpose power coils for ship weapon systems. They would be quite useful, if the Radical could commandeer the shipments. If he could not, he would be satisfied with their destruction. "Stokes," he began, "order the rest of the fleet to take out the fighter escorts. We will attempt to disable the freighters."
Thurston Stokes nodded, and spoke softly into his communications transceiver. The Radical's ship lurched forward, accelerating towards the convoy. The rest of his fleet appeared on his screen as small blips rushing for the fighter escorts. One by one, the fighters were destroyed, with a few losses to the Radical's fleet. The Radical himself armed the power-dampening clamps, and prepared to fire them at the freighters. The sluggish transports attempted to turn and speed away, but it was a well known fact that freighters had very little maneuverability. He fired the clamps, and they struck their targets. "Their power grids are being overloaded," Thurston said calmly, watching the ships' status indicators on his own screen. "Wait... I'm reading a sudden energy spike in their reaction drives." His hand shook slightly as he double-checked his readings. "They're blowing their freighters up! We have to get out of the way!" The Radical very calmly eased the thrust control upwards, propelling his ship away from the freighters. He grabbed the arms of his chair as the freighters exploded, and felt the resulting shockwave slam into his ship. Thurston and the Radical were both unharmed by the explosion, but they were momentarily disoriented. Thurston looked apologetically at the Radical. "It's quite all right," his mentor said. "We'll capture the next one."
The Radical's fleet moved back to New Avalon, having stopped another SETH convoy. He was certain it had been too easy... the fighters were so quickly annihilated, and the freighters destroyed themselves. Things never ended so simply. SETH forces generally fought to the death. What had he missed? What did SETH know that he didn't?
--End Chapter Four--
Chapter Five
Part One: Mischief
49975 A.D. The End Point.
The heart of the Matrix was here, in the center of the sphere that composed the End Point's habitable volume. A tiny point of light, surrounded by forcefields of unimaginable strength. It was a tightly-controlled quantum singularity, constantly stimulated by the rotations of the rings outside the station. While they rotated, they emitted temporal quanta which fed the singularity. Anyone in this room could feel the distortions. Robert Maxwell could get closer to it than anyone else, since his cybernetics offered a great amount of defense. But even he was not invincible to it. Just being in close proximity to the Matrix core gave him the sensation of his skin being ripped away, pulled from his bones slowly. While it was just a sensory illusion, it was very disturbing, even to the most experienced temporal engineer. He had relieved the night watchman in this room so he could observe it himself, uninterrupted. Flickers of lightning sprung from it, dissipating into the forcefields. His skin stood on end every time such an eruption occurred. His cybernetic eye frenzied with activity, drawing in as many readings as it could. He usually had to deactivate its higher functions to keep it from overloading itself.
It was then that he realized he hadn't eaten at all that day. Having been preoccupied with Solomon and Amiel throughout the day, looking for legal loopholes and so forth, he had forgotten to sustain his body. He went to the nearby food dispenser, and ordered a sirloin steak. He was glad there were still some familiar foods in the End Point's culinary database. While he waited for his food to be synthesized, he listened to the humming of the Matrix, noting it had a somewhat melodic quality. As the mild "whoosh" of the food dispenser subsided, he looked at it again. Instead of the steak he had ordered, it was a semi-transparent red block. He touched it, and it jiggled from his touch. It quickly settled down again, and he observed it. "If I am not mistaken..." he thought aloud as he left the room.
...
"Did it work?" Caeleb asked.
Arianna checked the computer screen, running the chemical formulae through her mind again. "Yup, it did! All the food dispensers're givin' out Jell-O!"
Caeleb laughed. "It looks funny. Why does it wobble like that?"
"Looks like it absorbs kinetic energy, and transmits it through itself as waves!"
"Well, I knew that, Ari!" he said. Physics had been child's play for the two of them, and they were quite proficient in applying it to ordinary situations. Computer programming was another skill they had acquired, though Arianna was significantly more advanced in it than Caeleb. Modifying the food dispenser distribution network was simple enough for her. "What I meant was, What'n its composition makes it do that?" Caeleb asked.
"I don't know. Don't know enough about its chemical composition, Caeleb."
"Think we'll get 'n trouble for this?"
"Probably. But it's no big deal. My Dad is the Director! They can't fire him!"
"No, but he can ground you! And Adam could ground me! And you know what that would mean... no more sim and rec."
"Yeah, but this is too much fun to pass up! And makin' the dispensers give out this 'Jell-O' stuff was your idea!"
"It was! But you didn't hafta do it."
The computers in the room whirred quietly around the eight-year-olds as they discussed their prank. Either the Department would think it was a computer error, or they would be fingered for it. Arianna was fairly certain that the latter would be the case. "You think maybe we should split while we can?"
"Good idea," Caeleb said. She put her arm around him and they strolled out of the room, into one of the End Point's main corridors. They stopped suddenly, and looked up. The Director stood before them, glaring down.
"Arianna. Caeleb. Why are the food dispensers giving out Jell-O?"
"You know about Jell-O?" Arianna asked. "I thought it was from the 20th Century."
"It was," the Director said. "And that's also not the point. Why were you tampering with the computers?"
"It's boring here," Arianna said. "We were just tryin' to have a little fun."
"I suggest that you run simulations if you want to have 'fun'. Simulations won't disrupt the station's systems."
"So we're not in trouble?" Caeleb asked.
"Oh, you're definitely in trouble. Arianna, you will only run educational simulations for the next month. Caeleb, I will have to talk to Adam. He'll figure out what to do with you. Now, get out of here," he said, but not threateningly. He knew they were only children, and the End Point wasn't exactly the most child-friendly facility within SETH. Then Sarah Silver came up behind him and put her arms around him. "How are you doing, Robert?" she asked.
"I'm worried about Solomon. He'll never get to see Amiel grow up, and I don't know how he'll hold up on the Mrrapphian penal colony. I'll also have to have someone take care of the food dispenser system, since Arianna and Caeleb were playing with it."
"I can take care of that. You're obviously tired." She kissed his cheek. "Go to bed, Robert. When I get to your quarters, you had better be sleeping!" she said as she walked into the computer room. She would reconfigure the food dispenser system back to its standard configuration. That wouldn't be a problem. The Director walked back to his quarters, and slipped into bed. He looked at the dataslip that he must have left there earlier in the day. "Annual performance evaluation tomorrow," he said, reading the dataslip. "Great. That's all I need." He checked to see that Arianna had gone to her room, and found her lying in her bed quietly. She opened her eyes and smiled, and he smiled back, closing her door. He then went back to his bed. He closed his eyes and fell back onto his bed, falling asleep within minutes.
Part Two: Incarceration
The Mrrapphian penal colony.
The moment he stepped out of the lev, Solomon Kravitz felt that he was in Hell. Stretched out before him was a corridor that pushed out farther than he could see, with dozens of levels below him, and dozens above. The catwalk that went all the way around the inside of the building held thousands of adjacent cells, and a horrifying drop in the huge open space. The catwalk went to his left and right, then turned ahead several meters away. He stepped forward and looked over the edge of the catwalk, seeing the thirty or so floors below him. This facility could hold over a hundred million prisoners, and an escape had never been successful from this place. He felt one of the guards grab his arm, and pull him back. "Not feeling suicidal, are we?" the guard taunted. "Can't have you going off killing yourself... wouldn't be good for the rest of the inmates."
"Mason," another voice said scoldingly. "You will treat Solomon Kravitz with the respect that is due a man of his stature."
Solomon turned around, and saw perhaps the most influential Originator of his time. Shawne Lesle, the only Originator on the SETH Council. He represented the Trebalis Megacluster, and was known for defending the rights of his fellow Originators. Solomon, however, did not expect Lesle to come to his aid. "Unshackle him," Lesle ordered.
Mason, the guard, did as he was instructed, removing the electromagnetic shackles that restricted Solomon's movements. Solomon nodded at Lesle in gratitude, and extended his hand. Councillor Shawne Lesle took his hand and gripped it firmly. He was stronger than most Originators, and had strength that rivalled some Non-Psionics with enhanced strength. He was sweating heavily, as was Solomon. The temperature in the facility was very high, probably to keep the inmates from exerting themselves. The heat merely contributed to Solomon's interpretation of this place as a Hell. As Lesle released his grip on Solomon's hand, Solomon felt a tiny object being left in his hand, and the Councillor looked at him seriously. Solomon decided it would be best for him to observe the object alone. Mason directed them to cell block alpha-five, and they began the long walk.
"I heard about the circumstances that brought you here," Lesle began. "Giving your clone reproductive ability. That was a very risky maneuver, Solomon," he said. "You're fortunate they didn't decide to terminate both you and the child immediately."
"I imagine my being something of a public figure was helpful in keeping me alive," Solomon replied. "I am, after all, the one who makes all the public recs on the DCA's activities. Press conferences, and so on."
"You realize they're never going to let you out, don't you?"
"Yes, I realize that. But there is a chance that Amiel will survive. And, who knows? Maybe he'll be the first Originator to father a child in eons!"
"You should keep your voice down," Lesle warned. "I already suspect that Uxbridge will try to have you killed in this prison. He may even be planning to set you up. Do not accept any offers of escape. Do you understand?"
"I do."
Then Lesle leaned toward Solomon's ear, and whispered so that Mason couldn't hear. "Tap the device I gave you when you get to your cell. It will tell you what's going to happen."
Solomon looked at him in acknowledgment, and continued their conversation. "They confiscated my cerebral implant, as well as my scanner feedback algorithm."
"I assumed as much." It was then that they stood before Solomon's cell. Mason dropped the electromagnetic field that surrounded it, and let Solomon step through. Lesle nodded in farewell, and began the long trek back to the lev, where he would board his ship and return to Earth. He hoped that Solomon understood the instructions he was being given.
Mason held his weapon confidently as he re-engaged the shields on Solomon's cell. "Feeding times are at 1100 and 1800. One hour, both meals. If you're late, you don't eat. Recreation time is 1300 to 1600. Lights out from 2000 to 0600. During lights out and all other times except meals and recreation, you stay in this cell. You'll learn the rhythm of this place quickly. And one more thing: if you have a problem, do not bother complaining. It will simply make guards more prone to beating on you. Try to get along with the guards and the other inmates, and you might be lucky enough to live another hundred years or so." Mason departed, leaving Solomon with the device Lesle had slipped into his palm. Making sure none were observing, he tapped it. A holographic projection shimmered into being before him, and it was an image of Councillor Lesle. "There is not a lot I can do for you, personally, Solomon. I can only inform you of a plan for your release. Your 'accomplice' had entered into an alliance with the Radical, and someone called 'Morph' will arrive to aid you within a few days. He must know the code sequence, as well. 'Initiative eight eight six.' If he cannot give you that sequence, he is a fraud. Report his intrusion immediately. Keep your eyes open. This device is about to self destruct..."
Solomon dropped it, and it flashed out of existence. The hologram was gone, and so was the device generating it. He sat down on the uncomfortable bed in his cell, and wondered how long it would be before this "Morph" came to liberate him.
...
Councillor Shawne Lesle's ship, Extreme Prejudice, began to leave orbit of Mrrapphia. He hoped he could escape before SETH made good on its intentions. The Council had wanted him dead for quite some time, and he only narrowly avoided their attempts on his life. This time, a large battlecruiser was bearing down on his ship, and he knew that his own craft could not match its firepower. He was suddenly glad he had taken up the Radical on his offer, and prepared the small contingency plan he had worked out. When the battlecruiser fired, he engaged the sensor screen that the Radical had been generous enough to provide him, and it seemed as if the Extreme Prejudice had been destroyed. He knew the crew of the battlecruiser wouldn't accept that, since there was no debris, but it allowed enough confusion for his ship to make the jump to hyperspace. He had managed to escape yet another attempt on his life, and let out an exasperated sigh. "Someday, my fortunes are going to run out, and I'm going to get killed. Who will save the Originators then?" he wondered.
--End Chapter Five--
Chapter Six
Part One: Evaluations
Earth. 49975 A.D.
The seat of SETH. The grandest, most magnificent world the universe had ever seen. To those outside the Orion Megacluster--within which Earth lay--the homeworld of the human race was more myth than reality. Only a fortunate few ever had enough influence to see the shining orb of life. The general populace rarely heard much about SETH, since the government only intervened when laws were broken. Laws were laws, and all knew them, even without SETH making them known. SETH entered the scenario when the law was violated, and justice was quick and efficient. Testimony could be taken telepathically, and evidence could be produced through visiting the scene via time travel. Fabrication of incriminating situations had become much more difficult, and to be "framed" for a crime was nearly unheard of. The war between criminals and the justice system had never ended. It simply had evolved.
Reading the dataslip in his hand, those laws were very real to Sovereign Louis Uxbridge. He was responsible for the survival of ten trillion human beings. Law was the thread that bound humanity together, that kept society from turning on itself. Solomon Kravitz's horrifying violation of the Breeding Avowal had utterly shattered his good mood. While he respected Solomon as a man, he could never condone such an act. He sighed as he read the latest news reports from the Outworlds. Eight convoys lost in as many days. The Starfire Club was responsible for only one of those, and claimed it was accidental. The rest were due to the Radical, as expected. He paused in front of the door to his office, and let his guards allow him entry. One of them spoke. "Director Maxwell of the DCA is in your office for his annual evaluation, sir."
Great. The last thing he needed was Maxwell ranting at him about Solomon, or the continued abuse of time travel. His door opened, and he walked in, prepared for a verbal assault from the Director of Chronal Affairs. Instead, he found his chair turned with its back to him. The chair was facing his large panoramic "window," which showed a hypnotic view of the Ocean Zone. It could be used to display any vista he wished. Normally, he preferred viewing the Trebalis Megacluster. It always gave him a sense of home, when he was so far from the planet of his birth. He carefully approached his desk, and waited for the chair to turn around, knowing that Maxwell would be in it. Looks like you've gotten used to this, a voice spoke into his mind. It was Maxwell, all right.
"Must you sit in my chair?" Uxbridge asked.
The Director turned the chair around so he could face the Sovereign. "No, but I favor it. It's much more agreeable than those chairs you make everyone else sit on." He pointed to the inelegant seating that populated Uxbridge's office. The chairs were not ugly or uncomfortable; indeed, they were better than most ever had the privilege to sit upon. But Uxbridge's chair was large and imposing, bearing a sculpture of a bird of prey cast in bronze. The ornate grooves and spirals that flowed around the chair all drew one's eyes up to the ferocious bird, a creature that was known as a "bald eagle." Archaeologists said that it was the national symbol of some great nation, long before the End Conflicts. Uxbridge himself merely admired the seemingly calm ferocity commanded by the bird's expression. He was forced to take his eyes away from the sculpture atop his chair, and looked back at Maxwell. "You are prepared for your evaluation?"
"I am. Here." Maxwell tossed several dataslips across the desk, each filled with carefully detailed reports on temporal activity. Uxbridge looked over them quickly.
"No Level-One disruptions... Three Level-Two disruptions... Twenty Level-Three disruptions... and six hundred nine Level-Five disruptions. I also see that nine hundred forty-four time travelers were detained for temporal violations, sixty of them having their atoms scattered across the timestream. Sixty? That is a bit excessive..."
"Sixty is what was necessary. You know our penalty system. The offenders are warned repeatedly. Execution is a last-resort measure. Unfortunately, the timestream was especially active this past year."
Uxbridge sighed. "At least you have lost no operatives. You have no idea how expensive it is to train them."
The Director rolled his eyes. "Money. Obviously, politics and economics never change."
"I rather believe that they have changed for the better, Maxwell. This universe is not as economically-driven as the one you came from."
"It's still bad enough. I am so damn tired of people being killed to protect someone else's bottom line."
"We must protect our trade routes, and our goods."
"At the expense of human beings?"
"The only people that are killed are members of Outworld nations. They are rogues, and do not consider them part of the human race."
"That's bullshit and you know it, Sovereign. Just because they are not in SETH doesn't make them inhuman. They are just protecting their space."
"As we defend ours."
The Director stopped the argument. They argued every time he ventured to Earth, and neither of them would budge a centimeter. Both were stubborn men, and both believed they were right. So, to avoid further arguing, Maxwell chose another topic. "I want to talk to you about Solomon Kravitz."
"I had assumed this would come up."
"You're not going to leave him to wither in prison, are you?" the Director asked with certainty. Uxbridge, however, misinterpreted the Director's meaning.
"I certainly am. Nothing can be done for him, Maxwell. He disregarded the Breeding Avowal, and so he must be punished."
"You're not understanding me, Uxbridge. You're going to have him murdered."
"What are these accusations??" Uxbridge demanded. "I caution you--"
"SHUT UP!" The Director waited for Uxbridge to sit back in his chair, and he continued. "You know that it's dangerous to leave a man like that alive. And so you were going to have him killed in some prison fight, right?"
Uxbridge groaned. If he was truthful, the Director would not believe him. But if he told Maxwell what he wanted to hear, then there could be serious repercussions. He went with the truth. "I know of no plan to have your colleague slain."
The Director let out a "hmph," and crossed his arms. "If you don't know of any plan, I'm sure there is one in the works. And I would bet that Councillor Winters would be behind such a plan."
"This is insane! There is no plan! Amsha Winters is the former head of the ISC... she would never plot to have a formerly high-ranking official of SETH killed."
"Then why did the ISC come to me before apprehending Solomon? Did you know that they left Amiel, Solomon's clone, in the custody of my Political Specialist?"
"Why would they consult you before making the arrest? They are authorized to take any action to accomplish an objective, including discharging custody of a child to another person. What happened when they approached you?"
Now the Director was intrigued. The Internal Security Corporate was known for being extremely secretive, but to withhold information about something as important as a violation of the Breeding Avowal, something larger had to be at stake. He looked around the room nervously, and erected a sound dampening envelope around himself and Uxbridge. "I think there may be something extremely dangerous developing here, Sovereign."
"It may have just been an oversight, you know."
"All the same... I would advise you to be extra cautious. I think the ISC came to me so that they could gauge what stance I would take when they come to remove Amiel from the End Point. And if they were doing that, then it means they are going to force him to submit to sterilization. And you know what that could lead to?"
"If the boy is killed in the process, it could cause another Originator War."
"I will use extra security, myself, Sovereign. I'll make certain the boy is not taken against his will. They said they would come for him at puberty... so we have anywhere from twelve to fifteen years."
"I shall look into the ISC's recent activities. Maybe I will turn up something."
"It's amazing that we can come to an agreement when circumstances drive us to suspicion."
"It is quite unusual. Now, you should make your way back to the End Point. I will contact you if and when I find anything."
The Director stood and headed for the door. "Keep an eye on Councillor Winters. She may be instructing the Internal Security Corporate in whatever plan it has conceived."
He left the office, and Louis Uxbridge sat in his ornate chair. The first thing he did was place a maximum security lockout on all of his vital files. Neither the ISC, nor anyone else, would be using his own files against him. Something dangerous was forming... perhaps a dark alliance that would plunge the universe into war.
Part Two: Eve
Darktropolis.
Control. That's what the universe was about. Nothing else was needed. The Control had all of that which he needed. People died by the dagger of his mind, powers ancient and unspeakable. His clock tower was brighter on the inside than usual, its backlit face shining more luminescently than was typical. Perhaps it had to do with his current state of mind, and his newfound idea. The Dread Son had been created... one of the four Children of History. He had to act soon. The old words said that four children would rise to topple the universe, and force it into the light, into the chaos that comes with enlightenment. The Haven, the Damned, the Dread Son, and the Eve. The first three had been born so far. He was not certain exactly who they were, but he could feel them. And his own destiny lie in wait, waiting for him to take control of it and rip it from the ether. He sent out a Calling to Arcturus, and the former Jon Tolliver entered the room. "What is it, m'lord?" she asked.
He looked into her eyes with his own fiery red orbs, and she felt fearful. He approached her, and placed his hands upon her shoulders. Cold... horrible, spine-shattering cold permeated her body. But she also felt a flame in her abdomen, a fire that grew and grew while he held her still. Her blood raged through her veins, threatening to burst her flesh, and still the fire within her grew. He held on more tightly, and she screamed as the fury ripped forth from her. As she lay on the ground, covered in blood, there was a cry. It was the wail of an infant. She looked at the baby the Control was holding. The Eve had come.
--End Chapter Six--
Chapter Seven
Part One: Assault on New Avalon
New Avalon. 49983 A.D. (9 years until assassination).
The planet called New Avalon was trembling as projectiles rained from above. High-energy plasma weapons, antimatter charges, every conceivable weapon was being hurled at the planet. Perhaps simply by the force of the Radical's will did the planet sustain such an assault. Inside his ship, he was trying to launch his ship quickly, and without detection. SETH Forces were bombarding the planet, that much he knew. Obviously, their negotiations with other Outworld nations had been successful, since the fleet had made it as far inside the Outworlds as New Avalon. But he had zero intelligence on the fleet. The possibility of invasion had never occurred to him. "Thurston!" he screamed at his protege. "I want this ship spaceborne NOW!"
"Give me a moment!" Thurston Stokes replied, racing his fingers across the console. Several consoles had already erupted into sparks and flames due to the attack, and he was worried that the ship had undetected hull breaches that would explode the ship in space. The craft wasn't designed to withstand an assault while within an atmosphere... the pressure differential caused by explosions in the atmosphere could be enough to destroy any spacegoing vessel. And one as badly damaged as this one wouldn't take much of a beating. The ship did lift off, and it did make it past the outer atmosphere, but what it found was a sight to astound and terrify. Dozens of tremendous vessels orbited New Avalon, each holding thousands and thousands of troops, and possibly hundreds of smaller attack craft. The capital ships were shaped very intimidatingly, like swords and daggers. The main systems of the ships were in the part that resembled the hilt of a sword, near the back of the vessels. All the weapons were in the elongated "blades" of the craft. So the choice became: destroy the weapons, or destroy the command functions?
The Radical opted to stop the attacks at the source, and ordered Thurston to send out a message to the rest of his fleet. "Order them to attack the command centers of the ships. Destroying their vital command substructures should be enough to disable them for awhile. Then we can worry about their weapons, since their attacks will be halted."
Thurston nodded in compliance, and the Radical took up a position at the Weapons station. He used the energies of the Crimson Dawn to restore power to some of his ship's systems, a tactic he had discovered only recently while experimenting with his powers. It seemed that his ships could convert almost any form of energy into a form useful to the vessel. Atomic, trionic, kinetic, and magical. All energy forms could be assimilated by the ship. Automated systems used his Crimson Dawn energies to repair the heavy damage, strengthening weak points to prevent hull buckling and breach, reinforcing the shield systems, and providing extra cover by the sensor screens. Some of his fleet was entirely visible to the SETH fleet, and was being easily crushed by the enemy. The rest remained invisible to sensors and eyes, and even to telepaths. The Radical ran his ship along the underside of one of the SETH capital ships. Racing along the elongated "blade" of the vessel, he passed over the point defense systems unharmed, his sensor screen working to perfection. He located the command center using sensors, and targeted his weapons. A single, concentrated pulse of superheated plasma, followed by a hyperspatial-disruptive warhead would be enough to rip that part of the ship to pieces, rendering it useless. Two more of his ships flanked him to provide escort in the event of an attack. He drew his index finger along the weapon control panel, and keyed the weapons firing sequence. The ship rocked as the weapons were fired, and he pulled his battered craft away. Intense vibrations emanated through his ship, a low rumble from the vessel they had just attacked. He smiled as he checked his sensors. Command center, and all vital systems, completely destroyed. In addition, the hyperspatial warhead rendered the area hyperspace-null, preventing escape of the enemy. While the effect was temporary, it would serve for as long as the Radical required. As he targeted another ship, Thurston stood and shouted as he noticed another vessel on a collision course.
...
"Solomon! You're going to hit us!" Thurston called over the commlink.
The Originator wrestled with the controls of his ship, trying to veer it away from the Radical's ship, and calculated that he was moving too fast to change course in time. He felt the Radical in his mind, sensing his distress, and was pulled through a door of blackness. He was inside the Radical's ship, finding the Radical and Thurston working feverishly with the ship's controls. They were all thrown to the floor when Solomon's ship made contact, and regained their footing moments later. "We were struck in the aft section. Life support is damaged, secondary power is down, and the primary power grid is bleeding energy into space," the Radical said, checking the damage control report. "Dammit, Solomon!"
"I was hit in the engines," Solomon explained. "I couldn't get enough power out of them to pull out!"
"I saved you from your prison cell eight years ago, and you still have yet to impress me," the Radical said. He had taken Solomon from Mrrapphia, replacing him with a shapeshifter called Morph. Exactly what happened to Morph after that was anyone's guess... but the Radical suspected that he lived. Solomon had turned out to be a rather dull investment, offering no real value to his forces. He often wondered why he bothered saving the old man so frequently, as he just had.
"There is little I can do about it," Solomon said. "I did not choose to be your ally."
"No, Jouko arranged that."
"Where is he? I have not seen him."
"He was injured in the initial assault," the Radical said. "He's being cared for."
Suddenly, the lights inside the Radical's ship began to flicker and fade, and warning sirens blared throughout the room. "No!" Thurston shouted. "Our sensor screens have lost power, and there's a frigate directly in front of us!!"
Part Two: Relentless
The Star Frigate Relentless, near New Avalon.
Commander-in-Chief Emily Landon stood fiercely on the bridge of her ship, barking orders to those under her command. Sensor information danced intricately over every screen, every crewman tapping out commands, running from one end of the room to the other. The elevated platform on which she stood gave her an excellent vantage of the situation, and she looked down at the weapons control officer. "Weapon status," she said.
The man looked up and spoke. "Forward array at sixty percent, lateral arrays at eighty, and aft array at forty."
"Why is the aft array operating at only forty percent?" she asked with a hint of anger.
"A craft struck the aft section... damaged some systems. It's being repaired."
"Stay on it," she ordered, then turned to her sensor officer. "How many enemy ships?"
"One destroyer, and thirty smaller vessels."
"Nearest ship?"
"The destroyer. Her sensor screen was just deactivated... sensors indicate it was due to damage inflicted."
"Target it!" she boomed.
Suddenly, her communications officer sprung from his seat. "Sir, I'm getting transmissions from that ship... it's carrying the Radical!"
Emily Landon clenched her fists, gripping the rail around her platform. "I want that ship captured! Only fire enough to disable it! I want prisoners!"
She looked at her private viewscreen, noting that the destroyer was directly in front of their pulse disruption weapon. One shot, and it would drain every erg of power on that ship. Her smile was cold, calculating. Then it opened fire. Blossoms of orange and red erupted from her ship's hull, the inside of the Relentless shaking violently. "Fire the pulse disruptor!" she shouted.
At the tip of her knife-shaped vessel, a green ball of energy formed. Anyone who had ever fought a SETH Star Frigate recognized that weapon.
...
"Evade! EVADE!" the Radical screeched. The green blast was about to cut loose on his ship, and he knew they would be dead in space if it struck. Solomon and Thurston argued with the controls, trying to force more thrust out of the ship, attempting to move out of the weapon's path. But the Radical already knew it was too late. His screen showed a flash of jade. He covered his eyes, and dropped to the floor as his ship tumbled backward. Screeches and whines from the electrical systems and the overstressed hull echoed through the ship, sparks and tongues of flame providing the only light. Then those, too, died. The ship was still spinning, tumbling aimlessly. Then they were all smashed to the floor by another force. Tractor, the Radical thought. They're going to pull us in. His ship's self-destruct system would certainly activate in an hour... that was a mechanical function, not an electronic one. It was purely a chemical reaction, so a derelict, powerless ship could still destroy itself. But to be captured... such a thing was new. He had never been captured by SETH before. Perhaps underestimating them was a mistake.
...
"We've got it," the sensor officer said. "It's being towed into the secondary cargo hold. I'm reading three humans. Two of them are giving off ambient energy that I can't identify."
"Have them placed in the high-security cells. But bring the Radical to me," Landon said, anticipating the arrival of SETH's most hated foe.
Part Three: Orders
Earth.
"I did not issue these orders!" Louis Uxbridge screamed at his aide. "The SETH Forces Spacefleet is attacking without authorization! I want to know who gave them the order to attack! NOW!"
His aide scrambled out of the Sovereign's office, relieved to be escaping Uxbridge's wrath. Louis pounded his fist on the desk, and threw the pile of dataslips on the floor. "Damn!!" He recalled his meeting with the Director, eight years ago. They both suspected that there may be factions of the government working to ends unknown to Uxbridge, but he never thought something like this would happen. A rogue fleet. Few things were more dangerous than a fleet out of government control.
He had severed his negotiations with the Starfire Club months ago, after his liaison to the Club, a man called Sominus, began behaving erratically. Uxbridge became suspicious, and ended his talks with Sominus. His plans to attack New Avalon were put on hold. But now someone had enacted them... or worse, enacted a plan of their own design. Then his mind traced the possibilities... what if this was the beginning of a coup d'etat? Could no one be trusted?
His door opened, and Councillor Amsha Winters entered. "Sovereign," she greeted.
He turned and looked at her. "What is it?" His eyes tore into her, looking for any trace of deceit.
"You were wondering who gave the order to attack?"
"Was it you?"
"No, it was the Internal Security Corporate. You have no reason to be alarmed... it is perfectly within their bounds to order a SETH fleet to wage war."
He realized she was right. There had been times when, to preserve the security of SETH, the ISC took the initiative and wiped out a threat while it was still a threat, and not an adversary. The Radical was an adversary. One that SETH had been receiving trouble from for quite a time. So why was he still unnerved that the fleet had attacked without his order?
"Please calm down," the middle aged Winters said, trying to calm the Sovereign. "Everything is well. There is nothing to concern yourself with." She moved for the door, and he was silent. He sighed as she left, and sat back down at his desk. Something was very wrong here.
Amsha Winters allowed herself a smile. The Internal Security Corporate still held loyalty to her... and she had used that loyalty to begin the assault on New Avalon. If the Radical had the information she sought, then she would soon have what she wanted. The Gauntlets of Excalibur would be hers! And with them, she could destroy the Originators, the Department of Chronal Affairs, and overthrow SETH itself!
--End Chapter Seven--
Chapter Eight
Part One: Intrigue
49983 A.D. The End Point.
The Director leaned back against the wall, resting from his morning exercises. Staying in shape at his age (which was well over one hundred years) became more and more difficult. Muscular atrophy was faster, and it took more work to build the same amount of muscle mass. The rest of the people in this era didn't have much trouble with that... it was in their DNA, he presumed. They had offered to give him treatments that would repair the damage done to his body and DNA during World War III, and to tweak his genetics so he would age as slowly as they did, but he had completely refused. Those were the parts of him that reminded him who he was, and where he was from. He was not going to give them up. While he used his cybernetics to prolong his life as long as possible, he knew he didn't have more than fifty years left. The android he had been fighting was repairing itself, and he strolled over to grab a dataslip and read the morning news report. He had given his robotic opponent quite a beating, and it reacted just as a human opponent would. Had it actually been a human opponent, it would have three broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and a sprained ankle. Possibly a concussion. Robert Maxwell was a fierce fighter, there was no doubt of that. The dataslip slipped out of his hands as a loud voice boomed into his cybernetic link. "Sir, we have Sovereign Uxbridge on a coded channel... he says it's important."
He grumbled and replied, "All right, put it through here." He waited as Uxbridge's hologram flashed into existence, and spoke. "What can I do for you, Sovereign?"
"Serious trouble, Maxwell. The SETH Spacefleet has attacked New Avalon, without my authorization. Councillor Winters says the ISC has the right to order an attack without Sovereign authority, which is exactly what they did."
"Since when can the ISC countermand your orders to a fleet?"
"They invoked a clause that is almost never used anymore... it's in Article 6 of the SETH Charter. It's legitimate, but I'm still concerned. I also received a report that they captured the Radical. I'm not accepting it as fact yet, since communiques can be easily faked. The message was from C-in-C Emily Landon. She informed me that she captured the Radical, a young man from New Avalon, and someone else... someone who is supposed to be in prison. Someone you know."
"Solomon?" the Director asked eagerly. Was is possible?
"I'm not sure how, but he's possibly with the Radical. However, he is also listed as still being in the Mrrapphian penal colony. I've seen recs of him that were recorded this morning. He's in two places at once, it seems."
"It could also be a clone," the Director suggested.
"Possibly... but we can't find any record of it. In any case, that's not what disturbs me."
"That what is it?"
"Amsha Winters has left for New Avalon to rendezvous with the Spacefleet. Her stated purpose is to interrogate the Radical and the other two, but I have a feeling that it's something bigger than that. She's after something, Maxwell. I can tell."
"Probably because you're a low-level Psionic, right?"
"Well, I suppose that may be part of it... but my Psionics border more on empathy than anything else. She's very good at keeping her thoughts and feelings cloaked. And even though that's expected of someone who works for the ISC, like she did, she still shouldn't be doing it all the time. Her defenses are never dropped... which means she is keeping something secret. I want you to find out what it is, Maxwell."
"Exactly how much privilege are you giving me on this mission?"
"You have permission to do whatever is necessary, short of murder, to determine what her plans are. Understand that I cannot take responsibility for your actions, and the mission will be disavowed if you are captured."
"So this is an 'unofficial' thing, right?"
"Yes. And while you are there, I want you to help them secure the Radical. He's a dangerous man, and you are used to fighting people like him. We are not. Our forces are used to battling internal enemies, not external ones. He's an enigma to us."
"I'll also try to see what I can find out about Solomon... if it is actually him."
"You may, but Winters' motives are the top priority. Fortune to you, Director." With that, the hologram faded out, and the Director stood thinking over his orders. Investigating the former head of the Internal Security Corporate. Digging into the mind of someone whose job had been to dig into the minds of others. But where one man saw doom, Robert Maxwell saw opportunity. "Tyler," he said through his cyber-link, contacting Tyler Nesting.
"Nesting here," came the baritone voice in reply.
"Prepare my courier ship for departure. I want it ready within the hour."
"Destination?"
"Classified. Also, Silver is in charge until I get back. Get that ship ready. Maxwell out." He closed the circuit, and left the gymnasium.
Part Two: Phantasms of the Past
Elsewhere on the End Point.
Sixteen. Still a difficult age, even in this era. Arianna and Caeleb were both subject to its promise and destruction. The impetuousness that came with the teenage years was no harder or gentler with them than with anyone else. They had already received disciplinary action for skipping three training sessions a month ago: they were forbidden to spend their off-time together, and were restricted to their quarters and to training areas. No recreational sims. But circumventing authority was often as thrilling as spitting in its face. They would sneak out of their quarters in the middle of night, and encounter each other on the Matrix deck. Shielded from sensors by the interference from the Matrix singularity, they talked and talked. What had began as friendship when they were five was slowly becoming something else. They had become accustomed to holding hands, a tradition that never quite became archaic. Eye contact was more frequent, and evoked more emotional responses from both of them than it ever had before. Like a flash of some universal truth being revealed each time their eyes met, it pulled them deeper into a world that they had not yet discovered. But it was a dangerous, precarious situation. They both worried that a mistake on either of their parts would ruin an eleven-year friendship, and estrange them forever. Arianna was more concerned than Caeleb... she was constantly nagged by feelings of abandonment from some time she couldn't recall. Sometimes nightmares plagued her, of a time when death rained about her like drops of water, each crystalline morsel of water scorching her skin. But it was not water... it was dark. It was blood. Sometimes she saw her father dying in the nightmare, being killed in a fury that she couldn't comprehend. Then there were people she didn't know... a man with very long fingers. No, not fingers... claws. The images clung to her memory, though she could not place them in her past. She knew that early childhood memories tended to fade, with the strongest ones remaining, so it didn't alarm her that she could remember little of it. She recalled her first encounter with Caeleb, but that was the extent of her memory of that period. Still, the nightmare taunted her, as if it were part of another life. Caeleb had to calm her down frequently, often finding her shaking and in tears over the horrible sights that etched pain into her mind. Tonight was much the same. With his arms around her, he consoled her as well as he could. Which, in reality, was not well at all.
"I see it, Caeleb," she said quietly. "It's always there. I know it's silly, but I can't push it out of my head."
"Could it have something to do with the nature of your powers? You can calm people down, or make them insanely violent... you cast an empathic field around yourself and others. In your dreams, you say there is terrible violence, right?"
"Yeah, that could have something to do with it. Maybe my powers are manifesting subconsciously in my dreams."
"They could be. We could go to your father and have him run some tests on you to see--"
"No, I am not going to him," she said quickly, but firmly. "He's too busy. I don't want him to worry about me, either... and asking him to find out why I'm having these dreams will make him worry."
"Then what do you want to do?"
"I...we need to get away from here. Just for awhile. Can we?"
Caeleb looked at the Matrix singularity for a moment, considering her question. "I suppose we can. Where would we go?"
"It's more a matter of when. Late 20th Century. Is that okay with you?"
"Why that specific time?"
"It sounds interesting... it's also before the First Culling. The 21st Century and beyond brought only horror and heartache to humanity. I want to know what we were like before that happened."
"Then we'll go. When?"
"Now?" she asked, wondering if it would be possible, or even in good judgment. They had no authorization to use the temporal devices, after all.
"If you want," Caeleb said. "It's fine with me."
She took his hand and stood. "Let's go," she urged.
He stood and followed her. It was into history that they would soon pass...quite literally.
Part Three: Questions without Answers
The Relentless.
"Name," Emily Landon said simply.
"Inapplicable," came her captive's reply. Such a difficult man to deal with!
"Title, perhaps?" she queried.
"The Radical." Good. At least he would answer some questions. It would make the mind-rippers' jobs easier when the time came.
"Affiliation?"
"None."
"Objective?"
"The complete ruination of SETH." That was a straightforward answer. But she knew he was only telling her enough to answer her questions... and no more.
"What importance does Thurston Stokes have to you?"
"None." A lie, she could tell. She sensed his tension at the mention of the young Stokes.
"Solomon Kravitz?"
"None." That was honest. Solomon was still being examined by the medical staff, who were trying to determine just how he could be here, if he was also on Mrrapphia. No one was volunteering the data she wanted.
"You lied about Stokes. Start being honest or I will have the mind-rippers go into your mind. They enjoy their work very much, and they have a habit of killing the patient. It's for your own good to be honest now."
The Radical knew she was right. What harm could it be to tell her the truth? "I believe he may be Ascended."
Landon couldn't help laughing. Ascended? All the legends were meaningless to her. She believed it was just a string of nonsense uttered a long time ago by some superstitious lout, and spread about the universe to the ignorant, teeming masses. She was above such things! "You can't be serious! The Ascended are nothing more than a myth for the idiots."
"To you, perhaps. If your disbelief is any indication, there is much you do not know of this universe. Unfortunate." Then he added with intensity, "It will kill you."
"I have all I need from you for now. Since you were so cooperative, I'll interrogate you again in a few hours instead of turning you over to the mind-rippers." She left the dimly-lit interrogation chamber, and returned to the bridge. He had essentially told her nothing of value. But he had no allies. That fact alone led her to suspect he was not at all popular with the other Outworld nations. New Avalon was already under their control. It was incredible how easy it was to capture him. But then, an invasion had not been attempted before! New Avalon was too far inside the Outworlds, and resistance always popped up from all sides. This time, they had negotiated nonagression pacts after making an example of four Outworld planets. By the time they reached a fifth planet, the population had committed suicide en masse. Their reputation spread across the Outworlds quickly: to resist was to die. They eagerly gave the SETH fleet passage, and even provided them with star charts leading to New Avalon. Overall, Landon was having a very productive day.
"Sir," her communications officer said, bringing her out of her thougts. "There's a ship coming in. It's carrying Councillor Winters."
Suddenly, Emily Landon's good day was looking several shades worse.
--End Chapter Eight--
Chapter Nine
Part One: Betrayal at the Expanse
49983 A.D. Aboard the Proxy, inside the Suttle Expanse.
For each individual, the world was something different. Perception was reality, and always would be. So by seeing her friends and comrades brutally slain, Ordnance's world ended long ago. It was in the 21st Century, when a group called OSR made a strike against mutantkind. It was the beginning of the end, one of the crucial events that led to World War III in 2066. She was called Luna then, and was the Red Queen at the time of the First Culling. Sabre had been killed just prior to the Cullings in an accident involving the Harbinger. The young Harbinger, that is. But that was another story in itself. Luna had grown increasingly close to SuperGrover, the White King of the Hellfire Club. The last they all heard of the Black Court was the Harbinger screaming a distress call over a high-frequency radio transmission to the White Court's mansion. When the Red Inner Circle came from Las Vegas to aid the White Court, all they found of the Black mansion was charred rubble. No survivors, save for the members that had already been scattered: Avalon, Gomurr, Nemesis, Deadpool. What they managed to piece together said that the nuclear reactor the Harbinger had installed to power the mansion had a thermal overload, and destroyed the mansion. No radiation was leaked, fortunately, but the deaths of the thirty or so Black Court members was a terrible loss. Luna herself had known most of them. One of her best friends was Blackfire, the Black Queen. But their mourning was shortened by assaults on their mansions, and they tried to escape. SuperGrover was able to escape with most of the White and Red Courts (plus Avalon, Deadpool, Gomurr, and Nemesis) by way of a Popupian transport that Impossible Man had provided. Luna herself had been on that ship, traveling to what was to be a new world for all of them. An ambush by a Shi'ar warcruiser crippled their ship, and Luna fled in an escape pod. She distracted them long enough for the ship of her friends to escape, and she was left drifting in space, the pod being small enough to make it difficult to hit. Eventually drifting to an area called the Suttle Expanse, she was pulled inside the maw of a multicolored whirlpool of light. It was like a rebirth! Sights and sounds and smells flowed through her senses tranquilly, taking her back to a place she was sure she had never been. The strange properties of this vortex in the Expanse kept her inside it for an incredible length of time. She forgot about the outside world. Everything she needed was here. While SuperGrover and the others continued on their journey to the new world 'Grover had promised them, she resided in the Expanse, reveling in the ecstacy that swirled around her. Everything else was meaningless by comparison. Anything she desired was hers, anyplace she wanted to go, she could be. But she had never actually left it! Slowly, she began to realize that everything she felt here was a fantasy, nothing more than a physical manifestation of her dreams and desires. None of it was real. And with that realization, she was cast out from it, with odd new powers. For one, she could survive in a vacuum. She did not need to eat, sleep, or even breathe.
Her sudden removal from the place that had given her so much joy was catastrophic to her mind. Her adjustment to this world, this reality that was now alien to her, was horrific. Memories of what had brought her to the Expanse continued to haunt her, and she drifted around the universe for hundreds of years. After the first hundred years, she began to feel ill, and went back to the vortex in the Expanse. She learned, then, that she had to visit this place once every century to stay alive, as it somehow rejuvenated her. Eventually, her travels took her to Darktropolis, and the descendant of the Hellfire Club she had left behind. This Starfire Club was eager to accept her, even though she murdered the Dreamer over a petty dispute. She took the name Ordnance, for her bizarre ability to create any weapon, real or imagined, just by thinking of it. Fully-functioning psionic projections of weapons was what they truly were, but they worked just as well. She was made their Pawn.
Today, it was time for her to once more rejoin the Expanse. Sominus had been kind enough to ferry her this great distance, knowing that it would be dangerous for her to travel alone. SETH had never learned of the vortex here, but patrolled the area as they would any other. Avoiding the patrol craft, they moved their ship into position, and she looked out at the tiny blue point of light that was her destination.
"The vortex will open when I am close enough," she said. "Thank you for taking me all this way."
"Of course," Sominus said. "It was not difficult."
She looked through the window again. Nothing else gave her happiness as this place once did. She was constantly in a state of apathy, feeling no happiness nor sadness. She was simply there, with no emotions. For if she allowed herself to feel anything at all, it would bring back thoughts of SuperGrover, and the others, and the flaming world they fled. Sominus left her alone as she stepped into the airlock, and opened it. Floating out to the blue point, it slowly grew larger. Sominus backed the ship off, to keep it from entering. She drifted slowly, until it flashed open before her. She closed her eyes and spread her arms as it pulled her inside, embracing her in the sensations that she could only experience here.
Sominus sat on the bridge of the Proxy, and checked his weapons. A well-placed tachyon burst would disrupt the fabric of spacetime in the vortex, and sever it from this reality. His readings told him that the vortex actually led to another dimension, a world separate from this one. Closing the doorway would trap her forever, exactly as he wished. He carefully targeted the closing vortex, and fired. He smiled as the white beam tore into the vortex, blue and green and purple shards rippling outward as it destabilized. His ship shook from the distortions, but he held fast to the arm of his chair. With a final blaze of orange, the vortex closed, and not even the blue point existed any longer. "I am truly sorry," he said aloud. "Were your powers not such a threat to me, I would have asked you to join me. But now, you are in the only place that makes you feel joy. Enjoy it." There was a timbre of sadness in his voice. Sacrificing such a powerful ally was not easy for him, but there were too many risks that she would betray him. He turned his ship back toward Darktropolis and flashed away, blazing through the eight Megaclusters that were between himself and his home.
Part Two: Retroactive
The End Point.
Had he any comprehension of the role he was destined to someday play, Amiel Kravitz would have given in to desperation and fear. For all intents, he was just a normal eight-year-old boy, with no hint of anything more or less than that. While he knew no father, Director Maxwell had tried to fulfill that role adequately. Sarah Silver spent more time with him than anyone else, he being left in her care. He had no one to call "mother" or "father", but the fact did not disturb him. For it was the only existence he had known, and he knew not of anything otherwise. Growing up on the End Point was quite atypical in itself. The station was prone to violent spells of shuddering caused by temporal disruptions, but they were not harmful, and were actually quite beneficial. He had learned that Time needed a venting mechanism, for all the excess energies released into the continuum by errant time travelers. The shaking was normal, though it was disconcerting at times. Today, he was looking through one of the numerous viewports that looked out at the Nexus. Tendrils of yellow lightning crackled forth from it, and he was forced to take a step back when some of them actually struck the window in front of him. Optical illusions, he had to remind himself. He was very intelligent for his age.
Then Arianna and Caeleb approached. "Hey, Amy," Arianna said.
"Don't call me 'Amy!'" the boy shouted. "You know I hate that."
"We need your help for a few minutes," Caeleb said. "You know how to wipe transit logs from the timepad, right?"
"Any kid knows that," Amiel said defensively.
Arianna smiled. "Good! Come with us."
He followed the teenagers to the transit room, and Amiel looked at the console that would activate the timepad. "What time are you going to?" he asked.
"October, 1998. New York City," Arianna said. "You're going to work the 'pad yourself?"
"I know how to do it!" Amiel said, being even more defensive than before.
As Caeleb and Arianna stepped onto the timepad, Amiel brushed his fingers along the controls. As the 'pad whirred to life, the two standing on it looked to each other, to see if either were having second thoughts. There were none. As they flashed and faded away, Amiel deleted the transit logs, and went about his business. Who were they to think he didn't know how to work a timepad?! Any kid knows how to do that.
Part Three: War Conference
Earth. The chambers of SETH.
The round table about which the Councillors of SETH sat was metallic and reflective. Colored banners were embedded into the table, one in front of each Councillor. Sovereign Uxbridge's banner was the typical Earth banner: an image of the home planet with the Moon behind it, and the Sun rising above it, on a black background. Representing the Weczer Megacluster was Nicholas Hogue. The banner for his Megacluster was a green ribbon (a symbol of money), and a blue sword (a symbol of military power) on a white background (a symbol of purity). Temika Leymon represented the Notru Megacluster. Her banner was a gradient of red to blue, moving left to right. Superimposed on that background was a human fist, crushing a planet (her region was known for producing the best soldiers in the SETH Forces). Shawne Lesle, the only Originator on the Council, looked out for the interests of the Trebalis Megacluster. A red "X," with four astronomical bodies around it (each representing a specific point of interest) on a navy blue background. Amsha Winters' proxy, Eric Komski, was sitting in representation of the Grett Megacluster. As most of the agents in the Internal Security Corporate came from this region, it was represented by a solid black banner with a red line across it. It supposedly represented the line that divided two opposing factions, where both factions were in the wrong. Many Councillors petitioned for a new banner for the Grett Megacluster, saying that what the banner represented was inflammatory and insulting. The protests came to no result. Don Kline was the symbol of power for the Oolian Megacluster. A golden triangle was the symbol of his region, a variation on the old Oolian symbol. When the Oolian Multicluster Directorate dissolved, the symbol was still adopted by the people of SETH that settled there. Reginald Stodden was of the Bolander Megacluster. Six spheres of different colors intersected in the Bolander banner, each one being a "sphere of influence" in the region. The crime syndicates that overran Bolander had achieved so much control, they were essentially regarded as part of the natural power structure, and were adopted into the banner. Victoria Collins of the Lennador Megacluster always liked the banner that reflected her home Megacluster. A fleet of ships destroying a rogue frigate, blazing on toward victory. The former Fleet Admiral could not have been prouder of her home. Sterling Byers, from the Rubis Megacluster, also approved of his region's symbol. It was a rendition of the "Timeshaft," the first long-range, full-scale time machine built by SETH. It was a tube stretching over six light years, with control stations every few hundred million kilometers. The golden background enhanced the yellowish color of the Timeshaft itself, and reflected light in a most agreeable manner. For the Glin Megacluster, there was Gisell Thesian. Two crossed phase rifles were the symbol for Glin, for all the revolutions that occurred there. Thesian herself had even led one of them, and so understood the meaning of the banner. Gavix ("Gaby") Thompson represented the Fortunatis Megacluster. While gold itself had long since been made valueless, her home region was characterized in the banner by a pile of gold coins. The region was incredibly rich in minerals, and was extremely wealthy. The twelve of them sat around their grand table, and waited for the emergency meeting to begin.
"First off," Sovereign Uxbridge said, "I want to know anything you Councillors know about the strike against New Avalon early this morning."
They all shook their heads, claiming to know nothing of it. "Very well...what do you suggest we do about it?"
Councillor Hogue spoke up. "This strike could prove to be an economic disaster if it fails. I move that we cancel the ISC's orders to the fleet. We can deal with the legal repercussions later."
Councillor Leymon: "The Radical poses a tremendous threat to SETH. Capturing him at any cost is the best course of action. Any losses we take must be considered acceptable, as long as he is apprehended."
Shawne Lesle: "It may cause desperation among the other Outworld nations. We need their cooperation, Sovereign. If they begin to fear us even more than they already do, it could lead to even more border skirmishes. I suggest we scrap the mission and free any prisoners the 'fleet has taken."
Eric Komski (Winters' proxy): "Continuing the battle is the only logical choice. We already have the Radical as our prisoner."
This fact had not been made known to them. Uxbridge tensed at the news. He was the only member of the Council, aside from Winters, that was supposed to know that the Radical had been captured. "Where did you learn this, Komski?"
"Councillor Winters has been in contact with the 'fleet. She is proceeding to interrogate the Radical as we speak. So you see, this debate is pointless. We already have our prisoner."
Uxbridge was silent for several moments. They had captured the Radical so easily. Would it be wise to even attempt to hold him prisoner? He turned back to the discussion at hand. "Councillor Kline, your turn."
Kline: "I think we should commit more forces to the Oolian Megacluster. The ancient Oolian weapons still wreak destruction on our colonies. I think that is more important than capturing some Outworld terrorist."
Reginald Stodden: "We should mind our own affairs, and suggest a treaty with New Avalon. If possible, a blanket treaty with all the Outworld nations should be attained."
Councillor Collins: "Taking out the Radical is eliminating the biggest threat to our people since the Originator Rebellions. I suggest we keep the Radical, and take all of New Avalon prisoner."
Byers: "The Rift is a far graver threat to us. You have all ignored this threat, because you have no idea how to combat it! Director Maxwell thinks--"
Gisell Thesian interrupted him. "Who gives a damn what Maxwell thinks?! He is insane! The Rift is not a threat, Byers, and you know it. In fact, it's existence is not even possible...it's paradoxical!"
"You haven't seen his calculations, have you?" Byers retorted. "Anyone who has taken an advanced course in temporal phenomena can see that the Rift is a distinct possibility."
"People!" Uxbridge shouted. "We can debate the Rift until it actually wipes us from history...that's not the point right now. Leave that matter to the Department of Chronal Affairs, and Maxwell himself. Get back to the assault on New Avalon."
Thesian made her wishes known. "Kill the Radical. It's as simple as that."
Gavix Thompson. "Military action is the worst way to make peace, Sovereign. We must free the Radical and make a gesture of goodwill to the people of New Avalon."
"So we have 6 against, and 5 for the continuation of the attack," Uxbridge said. "My vote is to end this battle immediately. Thus, that is seven against. Let the record show that we voted to stop the attack on New Avalon."
They all turned to each other, anger in the faces of those who wanted to press the offensive. "I will contact C-in-C Landon, and inform her to end the assault and free the Radical," Uxbridge continued. "This meeting is adjourned."
But Uxbridge knew it wasn't quite that simple. He could give as many orders as he wanted. If Winters truly had her own agenda, she would see to it that New Avalon was captured, even against the orders of Sovereign Uxbridge himself. If only it were as simple as orders...
--End Chapter Nine--
Chapter Ten
NOTE: I don't know a lot about hotels... I just made up most of the stuff in the first part! Still, it should be okay...somebody go ahead and correct me, if you've ever stayed at a Hilton. :)
Part One: Back in Time
Earth. New York City, USA. October, 1998 A.D.
They materialized in the city at night, in a sparsely-peopled area. No one saw them come in through their glimmer of light. Arianna and Caeleb looked around them, at the buildings that composed their surroundings. "I think we should find a hotel," Arianna suggested. "I have what passes for currency in this time," she said, indicating the stack of green bills she held in her hand. "Microbots generated them. They shouldn't raise any suspicions. Our holojectors can make us look as old or as young as we want. The molecules of our clothing can be instantly reconfigured any way we wish, and I took a tether while we were on the End Point. We're covered."
Caeleb couldn't help admiring her foresight. Obviously, she had planned this little excursion far in advance. Either that, or she was very good at quickly devising a plan. "So what hotel should we go to?"
Arianna looked around. "That one looks good," she said, pointing to the Hilton Hotel. Finding no argument, she and Caeleb walked toward it, and strolled (with a little difficulty) through the revolving doors. They moved to the front desk, and spoke to the man standing before them. "We would like a room," Arianna said. To the man at the counter, they appeared to be a couple in their twenties, wearing quite expensive attire. It was amazing what 500th Century technology could do.
"Do you have a room reserved?"
"No, we don't," Arianna said, taking out her money. She knew that this time period was almost entirely economy-driven, and so placed a few hundred dollar bills within the man's sight.
"I think we can forego the reservation and get you straight to a room!" he said eagerly. Arianna handed him one of the bills, and he led them to an elevator. She turned and whispered to Caeleb. "This is so easy. The translator in the holojector is working perfectly, and we're getting exactly what we ask for."
Caeleb, a little unsure about the entire situation, just nodded. As they stepped into the elevator, the man spoke again. "You didn't bring any luggage?"
"No, we're only staying for a night or two," Arianna answered, handing the man another hundred. His eyes lit up as Benjamin Franklin passed into his hand, and he put the money into his pocket. This was certainly a profitable evening!
The elevator stopped on the top floor. They all stepped out, and the man handed Arianna the key to their room. "Room 205. I think you'll approve."
Arianna smiled and gave him a bit more cash. He went back onto the elevator, and the two teenagers went to their room. It was a large, large room. Two king-sized beds, an overwhelming view of the city, couches, chairs, tables, plants, towels, fruit baskets. "This must be an expensive room," Caeleb said, echoing Arianna's thoughts.
"We're covered," she assured him. "So...what exactly do teenagers do in this time period? Any idea?"
"I think they throw parties," Caeleb said nervously. He knew where this was headed.
Arianna grinned mischievously. "Parties?"
While he had been the one to get her into trouble most of her life, this time he was not the cause. It was quite a surprise for him to see his best friend's other half. And a party? He had no idea how teenagers acted in this time period, though he heard they were quite raucous and irresponsible. He only hoped the rumors were false.
That's when he noticed Arianna hanging out the window, shouting something. Something about a party. Then, by some miracle (or curse, he supposed), the cries of a hundred frenzied teenagers echoed through the streets. He realized that her power probably had something to do with it... it had a very attractive nature, and she was exploiting it to the fullest. In less than five minutes, their room would be overrun with others around their age. He fell backwards onto one of the beds and closed his eyes. Arianna was obviously more cut out for this time period than he was.
Part Two: Turnabout
49983 A.D. The Relentless.
"I understand you are being less than fully cooperative with C-in-C Landon," Amsha Winters said to the Radical. She gripped his throat. "You should be a bit less tight-lipped around me, you know."
He spoke, his words barely escaping his lips. "I demand to see a lawyer. I am allowed one, aren't I?"
Winters grinned at his ploy. "You know as well as I do that you'll never leave the Outworlds alive. As soon as we get what we want from you, you'll be dead."
"And who are 'we'?" he asked. Maybe he could gain something from this little "talk."
"Interested parties, that's all. No one you need to concern yourself with."
"You still haven't told me what you want."
"If you insist on getting to the point, then I shall: I want to know about the Gauntlets of Excalibur."
The Radical was now a bit perturbed. How did she know of the Gauntlets? More importantly, why did she want them? He had to remind himself to be patient. Patience was the only thing that separated the survivors from the casualties. Well, that, and perhaps intelligence. And he had plenty of both. "The Gauntlets of Excalibur? I'm afraid they haven't been seen for quite some time."
"When were they last seen?"
"Oh, about the time the Radical died. The one before me, that is."
"So it is passed down!" she said, glad she had pieced together that particular mystery. "I was wondering why you looked so young."
"Yes, the title of Radical is passed down, but I am only the second to bear the moniker. The first Radical was Grover the Ancient. I am Gomurr the Young."
"You are escaping the point. What happened to the Gauntlets??"
"They are floating in space somewhere. Poor, poor Grover. It was so horrible to see him go like that."
Winters had had enough of the Radical's evasive replies. She grabbed his shoulders and threw him against the wall. She was not particularly strong, and so would not have been able to do that again if it was required. She was left a bit winded by her maneuver. "Now, TELL ME where they are!"
"I do not recall," the Radical said sternly.
"Liar!" she grabbed him again, and pushed him to the floor. He recognized that she didn't have as much force as when she slammed him into the wall. She was not as strong as her posturing suggested, he deduced. A fact he could easily exploit.
"Yes, I am lying, Ms. Winters. But you will never know where the Gauntlets are, unless I wish you to."
"I'll kill you, you terrorist--" Her words were cast aside by a blow from the Radical, and she crashed to the floor. He leapt on top of her, and held her down. "You are going to explain to me why you want those Gauntlets. Do it, or I'll force it out of you."
"Can't..." she said, struggling within his grip. "...Can't force anything out of an ISC operative...certainly not out of its former head."
He decided to put her claim to the test. She was right. Every time he tried to bore into her mind, a wall of resistance sprang up. The Internal Security Corporate trained its people well, apparently.
"Tell me, or I kill you," he said matter-of-factly.
She spat on his face. Why was that such a universal sign of complete disrespect? He had hoped that SETH would have had certain tendencies "bred out" of the human race... nasty habits like that one being among them. He evidently expected far too much of his enemy. He held her firmly to the floor. "You've already contacted your guards, haven't you?" he asked.
"Of course...terrorist bish'k!"
"Now, Councillor... Koraxian curse words don't suit you. I, myself, shall be making my escape. You can keep Solomon, but I'll be taking Stokes with me."
"So you--"
"Naturally! I was only staying as long as it was amusing to me. Now that my patience is exhausted, I'll be going. Goodbye, Winters." He slipped into a portal of the Crimson Dawn, and he and Thurston Stokes both vanished from the Relentless. She gritted her teeth. Everything had been under her control, until the damned Radical had played a card she didn't know he had. She hoped her comm-scrambler was still working, just in case SETH overturned the ISC's orders to the 'fleet. She would have those Gauntlets, even if the SETH Forces Spacefleet had to be sacrificed to do it!
Part Three: Assistance
Elsewhere on the Relentless.
Director Maxwell shuffled along the main concourse aboard the Relentless. It ran from stem to stern, with offices, quarters, and even shops were on either side of it. The ship was actually capable of being a staging point for a full-scale war. He could only admire the extravagance around him. While the interior was definitely designed for comfort-minded bureaucrats, the weapon systems and power grid indicated that the ship was built for war. As he approached the corridor that would lead him to the interrogation chamber, all the bright lights dimmed to red, and alarms sounded. "I just got here," he said. "What the hell could be going on already?!"
"Prison break, block 52," came the voice of the security chief. Maxwell realized that block 52 was where the Radical and the others were being held. "Dammit," he cursed. "Nothing ever goes right."
He watched as Amsha Winters rushed out of the next corridor, and crashed into him. "You idiot, I'll have you demoted to--" she started, then caught the identity of the man she was speaking to. "Director Maxwell. What are you doing here?"
"To use an unoriginal phrase: 'I could ask you the same thing.'"
"SETH business. Official business. I am securing our interests by securing the Radical."
"Looks like you did a lousy job of it, too."
"That remains to be seen. This battle is not over yet."
"It certainly is over, Councillor. Sovereign Uxbrige held an emergency meeting just hours ago. The attack on New Avalon has been officially called off, and the 'fleet is to release all its prisoners, and return to SETH space."
"Who have you informed of these orders?"
"No one...yet." She noticed the gleam in his eye. He had protected her for a reason. But why?
"You're keeping it to yourself, for now?"
"I am. But I want to know why you are here, and what your interest is in the Radical."
"I am simply interested in defusing one of SETH's most lethal foes. What ulterior motive could I have?"
"I'm not getting into it with you, Councillor. I know all about your comm-scrambling buoy. I left it active because it's in our mutual interest to stay out of contact with SETH right now."
"Will you assist me in the recapture of the Radical?"
"I will...but only after I see Solomon."
"Be my guest," she said, leading him to cell block 52. "The Radical can't get out of this region. No ships can leave it right now."
"Why not?"
"He rendered the area hyperspace-null with an HS warhead. Ships can enter, but they can't leave. The effect will dissipate in a day or two."
"Then I'll be quick with Solomon. We can then turn our attention to the Radical himself."
As she took him to his old friend, the Director admitted that he had his own interest in the Radical. He had the odd feeling that he knew this terrorist that SETH feared so much. Almost as if it were an ancient enemy come back to destroy him. He shook off the sensation, and attributed it to anxiety. All his enemies in the past were long-dead, mostly from natural causes. None of them could harm him now, could they?
Part Four: Confrontation with Control
Darktropolis.
"Treachery!" the Control shouted at Sominus. "Deceit!"
Sominus barely dodged the Red beams that erupted from his King's fists. He had anticipated something like this. He was hoping that it would turn out the way he planned. "My King, it was necessary. She was a threat to the Club."
"No threat!" the Control replied. The King grabbed Sominus, and pulled him close. "No threat," he whispered. "Treachery is your doing."
"You know that she was a threat. She was planning to leave us, anyway. To go back to the Expanse. You know that."
Sominus was right. Ordnance had been planning to return to the vortex, permanently. Sominus simply made it more permanent than she would have liked. But he knew he had not actually angered the Control, for if he had, he would be nothing more than a pile of scorched flesh by now.
"Depart, Sominus," the Control said. "Retrieve the Eve."
Sominus nodded, and went to find the Control's daughter. If anyone could bring a bit more peace to the Control, it would be her. His plans were proceeding perfectly. The Control--as far as he knew--suspected little or nothing. Soon, the Club would be in his control, and he would have Darktropolis as his own. And with that, he could launch a strike against neighboring Outworld nations. To hell with Uxbridge, he mentally cursed. Since he stopped our little "negotiations," I'll just have to be a bit more forceful in the future. New Avalon made a very prime target. Yes, a very attractive target! So off he went, into the bowels of the clock tower, to find Eve. Child of History.
--End Chapter Ten--
Chapter Eleven
Part One: New Experiences, New Perspectives
1998. New York City.
It pulled on them. They were drawn like a tide to the building, instinctively knowing where to go. The man at the front desk at the hotel was about to panic, when he received a call from the redhead that had been so generous with her money. "I'll give you an extra three grand if you let them come to our room," she offered. He accepted immediately, and allowed the tide to continue. Stairs or elevator, they all found a way to get to the top floor, to the place where they were being summoned. Arianna's powers were frighteningly persuasive, even to Caeleb. He knew that she could greatly affect a person's emotional state, but he didn't know she could do it on such a large scale, or even convince people to come to a place. He quietly hoped that she knew what she was doing.
Two of those to answer Arianna's summons were Monet and Havoc1. The Black Headmistress and Black Prince had been wandering the area (after curfew, of course). They, too, had no fathom of where they were headed. It was simply an instinct, a feeling that they must go with all the others. A surge of teenagers was a frightening thing, and in the middle of night (as this was), it could be perceived as a mob. Oddly enough, no police were called. Caeleb suspected that was another benefit of his friend's power. When the first knock came, he nearly fell off the bed. He hadn't realized he was quite so tense. Arianna was more relaxed--much more--more than he was comfortable with. She opened the door, and it was as if floodgates had been released. Dozens poured through the doorway. Arianna somehow managed to remain standing against the rush, but Caeleb was forced to the back of the hotel suite. He still wasn't feeling very confident in this idea at all. Arianna sensed his discomfort, and came to him. "Caeleb, come on...you have to enjoy this, too. I promise they won't hurt you. Watch." She approached a couple that had just arrived. "What are your names?" she asked them.
"I'm Rebecca," the girl said. Then the young man next to her spoke up. "My name's Ben."
Arianna whispered to Caeleb. "You're supposed to greet them."
"Hi. Welcome to our...party," he said halfheartedly.
Arianna smiled in amusement. He was never very good in social situations. Growing up on that space station as they both did, he was not a very adept at sociability. He was relieved when Arianna led him away from everyone else, and she sat down with him on the bed. "You need to relax and have a little fun." Loud music started booming through the room, and Arianna was forced to shout. "That's why we're here!"
Caeleb merely nodded, watching the bizarre group of people move and sway to the music. Incomprehensible motions. He raised his eyebrows at some of the more risque dancing styles. He had never seen anything like that before! Much to Arianna's delight, he cracked a smile at the display. Maybe he could enjoy this a little bit after all!
Then the party truly began. Someone discovered the bottle of champagne, and was trying to uncork it. Only by some miracle did the cork not strike anyone in the eye. A case of beer inexplicably materialized. The volume increased. Speech became more difficult to hear and understand. Smoke began filling the room, and it was a scent that neither Arianna nor Caeleb had experienced before. Only later would they learn that it was something called "marijuana." But at that time, they simply sat in the maelstrom of chaos, slowly losing themselves in the atmosphere. They almost felt immaterial, as if they were floating away. Strange sights filled their vision, and a sense of giddiness permeated their minds. Arianna wrapped her arms around Caeleb's back and forced him to lay down on the bed. Against the immense cacophony of rap music and heavy metal, time stood still for the two of them. Somehow, their lips came to be in contact with one another, but neither of them resisted. Against this chaotic backdrop, their lives would be forever changed, and their relationship would be eternally altered... all before the encroachment of dawn.
Part Two: More Questions, Fewer Answers
49983 A.D. The Relentless.
The Director of Chronal Affairs put his hand on Solomon's shoulder. "I think you have some explaining to do."
"I'll start by saying I had nothing to do with this," was Solomon's succinct reply.
"Why are you not in prison? Or are you a clone of the man in prison?"
"The one in prison is a shapeshifter. His name is Morph-something-or-other. He was the former Mrrapphian monarch, if that means anything. I was only in prison for a couple days, actually. The man in prison since then has been a shapeshifter. Looks like you can't tell the difference, either."
"So the Radical arranged your escape?"
Solomon considered the question. He knew that Maxwell would trust his answers enough not to telepathically scan him. He omitted Jouko's role in his escape. "Yes, the Radical was behind it."
"Why?" That was a very important question, the Director knew. If the Radical was after Solomon because he was tied to the DCA, it could reveal some sort of plot against the Department.
"I honestly don't know. He never told me." He hated lying to the Director... but again, he had to protect Jouko. If anything happened to himself, Jouko would have to carry out their plans alone.
"I guess he kept you as much in the dark as SETH," the Director said. He then turned to the forcefield that marked the cell boundary. "Winters, play the rec of your interrogation of the Radical."
Amsha Winters had vigorously editing the recording. All references to the Gauntlets of Excalibur were deleted, and the time indexes were altered to make it appear consistent. Some transitional frames were inserted to give it a more seamless aspect. She was thankful for the years she spent in data manipulation courses. They served her quite effectively in the ISC, and were an even more decisive asset now. She complied with Maxwell's request, and played the part that she knew the Director wanted to see.
"The title of Radical, as you may or may not be aware, is passed down. But I am only the second to bear the moniker. The first Radical was Grover the Ancient. I am Gomurr the Young."
Maxwell noticed an odd bit of jitter to the holographic projection, but took it for a defect in the recording media. "Solomon, this is very important. Did he ever talk you about this 'Grover the Ancient'?"
"He never spoke of anyone by that name. Who is it?"
The Director sighed. Grover. Gomurr. Those names were names he knew, a long time ago. It was another life. The bitter mistake. The one that led to his becoming the Director. And then Gomurr... his ancient adversary. His competitor in the unending race for the Ascended One. No one had Ascended since the termination of the End Conflicts, and the death of Elim himself. The conditions had never been right. But now someone called Gomurr, who had ties to someone called Grover... in the here and now! It could not be a coincidence. Reincarnation. That explained Gomurr. But how did it explain Grover? He was not aware that the blue-skinned protege of Gomurr Shang-Chek was immortal. That is, the Gomurr he knew in the 20th Century. It was giving him a headache. Reincarnation. Old enemies... old lives. He tried to shrug off the shreds of thought. He could get back to the Radical/Gomurr connection later. "Would you be willing to lead us to the Radical's installation on the surface?"
"Gladly. I don't much care for him anyway." It was true, really. Jouko was still his friend, but the Radical was not. So if it worse came to worst, he would find a way to keep Jouko from harm. Any way he could.
Winters finally spoke. "I just heard from C-in-C Landon. The on-board Psionics are going to unleash a telepathic assault on New Avalon. It will weaken them enough for us to take the planet."
"All right, then," the Director said, moving toward the forcefield. "I'm removing Solomon from his cell."
"You can't do that! He's a prisoner!" Winters protested.
"I'll play Uxbridge's orders to Landon if you don't release Solomon. Your little war will be over."
Winters was compelled to comply. Her plans required the capture of New Avalon. She needed whatever data the Radical had on the Gauntlets! So she deactivated the forcefield, and let Solomon and the Director step through. "Follow me," she said, leading them to the bridge. New Avalon would be hers within the hour!
Part Three: Harm
New Avalon. The Radical's compound.
He had been a good doctor all his life. Colin Deyser grew up on New Avalon, being born not long before the Parliament was dissolved. Only a child then, he saw the carnage that resulted. The brutal assassination of Grover the Ancient. The rise of Gomurr, the new Radical. He never killed. He never purposely harmed another. He studied the vast body of knowledge that Grover had brought from Earth those eons ago, during the great Exodus. He had always wanted to be a doctor. Treating Jouko Lazar's wounds, he found it an exercise in futility.
I swear by Apollo the physician, by Aesculapius, Hygeia, and Panacea, and I take to witness all the gods, all the goddesses, to keep according to my ability and my judgment the following Oath: I will prescribe regimen for the good of my patients, according to my ability and my judgment and never do harm to anyone.
He repeated that Hippocratic Oath to himself constantly. Somehow it kept him sane. Jouko had a broken leg, and internal bleeding. He had stopped the bleeding with one of his medical instruments. Some device the Radical plundered from a SETH convoy, he knew. But still, he had to help his patients. Was it just as immoral to use those stolen items as it was to kill those who originally possessed them?
No, his mind said. I am not harming. I am healing. He continued his work on Jouko, trying to spare him further pain. Pain.
He dropped his medical tool. No harm. Pain was cutting through him. Harm! His parents. The collapse of the Parliament. They were trampled to death. He saw it. He couldn't help them. He was just a boy. He was still a boy! NO HARM!!! He felt an arm grab him. A soldier. One of the new Radical's agents? He screamed. No, it was Jouko! What was wrong? That's what the man was asking him. No, nothing...everything was wrong! I have harmed! He heard Jouko cry out and collapse. He was being affected by something, too! SAVE US FROM HARM! he screamed, but it was only in his mind. It passed. He felt light, light...like he could float away. Instead, something black surrounded him, intruded on his vision. No, it was his eyelids. Tired. So tired. It was no use to fight it anymore. Less harm that way.
--End Chapter Eleven--
Chapter Twelve
Part One: Grudges
49983 A.D. The Relentless.
The door opened up for them, showing them the expansive bridge of the SETH flagship. Looking up, they saw Emily Landon's command platform, hovering about ten meters off the ground. The ceiling was probably fifty or so meters above the floor, and the tremendous viewscreen covered nearly the entire bridge area. It was split into dozens of subsections, one for engineering, one for sensors, one for weapons, and so on. Landon could, at a glance, check the status of any system on the ship, as well as monitor the key personnel in the area below her. Their workstations were arranged in rows, and there were close to two hundred people working quickly, preparing for their inevitable incursion of New Avalon.
Robert Maxwell, Solomon Kravitz, and Amsha Winters stepped through the doorway, and proceeded to grab Landon's attention. Utilizing his cybernetic components, he levitated himself to Landon's level. She nearly fell from her platform in surprise. She grimaced, and spoke annoyedly. "I've warned you about doing things like that, Maxwell."
"Sorry, but this can't wait."
"Go ahead and get on the command pallet then," she instructed. He moved over the railing around it and planted his feet on the floor of her platform. "So what's so vital?"
"I understand you've begun the Psionic attack already."
"Yes, we have. We transited some of our Psi-troops to the surface. Thus far, they have not found nor breached the Radical's base. Is there any word on the Radical yet?"
"Not yet. The search continues..." he said, his voice trailing off as he looked at the huge viewscreen. Eight Avalonian fatalities so far. Two SETH troops down. Resistance is light. Then he remembered what he was about to tell her. "I released Solomon, since he isn't a threat. He has agreed to help us locate the Radical."
"Very well," Landon said, looking down to see Solomon. Her eyes narrowed, and her lip curled. "What is she doing on my bridge?"
Director Maxwell raised his eyebrows. "You have some sort of problem with her?"
"I want her off my bridge!" Landon shouted, then looked down to her security officer. "Kendrick, please escort Councillor Winters from the bridge. I'll come down and get Solomon myself." As Kendrick approached Winters, the Councillor frowned. "I have full security clearance, and am authorized to be on the bridge of any SETH craft. I will not be removed!"
"The Commander-in-Chief has given me an order, Councillor Winters," was Kendrick's only answer. Solomon tried to hide a smile as Winters attempted to struggle with the security officer. "I'll have your commission, you damned grunt!" she spat. The door closed as Kendrick took her from the bridge. When it opened a moment later, Kendrick entered alone. He looked toward Landon. "Councillor Winters is being taken to her quarters."
"Excellent. Return to your post," Landon said, then opened the railing on her platform to allow Solomon entry. The Originator stepped onto the command pallet, and it lifted back to its previous position.
"What do you have against Winters?" Maxwell asked.
"She set my career back twenty years with no good cause," Landon said disdainfully, her voice seething with contempt for the Councillor.
"Care to tell me what happened?"
"Two decades ago, I was second-in-command of this ship. I was an Admiral. There was a dispute in the Fortunatis Megacluster over trade rights between some of their colonies. We were sent in to settle it. We were doing fine. Then Winters showed up. She replaced me as second, and when I tried to argue with her about it, she had me demoted and transferred. It has taken me twenty years to get to this position. I would have been C-in-C of SETH within a YEAR, had that upstart bitch not interfered. Is that not a good reason for me to harbor emnity toward her?"
The Director nodded. "Sounds like you have valid cause for disliking her. At least you two haven't had a fist brawl yet."
"I prefer knife-fights, myself," Landon said.
"Ouch," was the Director's pained reply. Obviously, this was not a woman to trifle with. Just being around her, one could tell that she was dangerous and intelligent. A lethal combination.
"Solomon," Landon said, looking in his direction. "Can you point out the Radical's compound on the map?"
Solomon tapped out a sequence of coordinates on the console, which appeared on a portion of the viewscreen. "That goes straight to the heart of the building, the Radical's inner sanctum. I recommend you send any forces directly there. However, they should prepare for heavy fire. He keeps a very good security force."
Landon considered all he had said, and recorded the coordinates in her log. "Understood. I'm ordering all Psi-troops to have themselves transited to the coordinates you gave. We can send reinforcements if necessary. But I want to see how this plays out first. Maxwell, can his word be trusted?"
"Entirely," the Director said with conviction. Solomon Kravitz was not a traitor. In fact, Solomon had been perhaps the most loyal man he had ever met. "His word is truth."
"Then I'll have the orders executed presently. If that is all we require of Mr. Kravitz, then he shall be placed back in his cell."
"I was about to bring that up, Ms. Landon," the Director said. Solomon looked at him in puzzlement, and Maxwell gave him a reassuring glance. "What do you intend to do with him, exactly?"
"After we figure out who the person in the Mrrapphian prison is, then we can decide that. It's not within my authority to do anything other than see him returned to the proper enforcement agencies."
"That's what I thought," Maxwell said in a manner that indicated he had expected precisely that response.
"The orders have been sent. New Avalon and the Radical don't stand a chance," Landon smiled.
Part Two: Struggle on New Avalon
Elsewhere aboard the Relentless.
Outrage! This was pure, total outrage! How dare they send her to her quarters?! She would have Landon demoted--no, executed--for this atrocious breach of regulations! No SETH Forces officer, not even the Commander-in-Chief, could place restrictions on a Councillor! Amsha Winters kicked the chair in her quarters out of frustration, and let out an angry sigh. There was only one way her plans were going to work, and that was for her to grip the matters herself. She first checked the door to her quarters. No guard outside. Landon wasn't quite that paranoid, it seemed. She just wanted Winters off the bridge. You'll learn what happens to the disobedient very soon, Winters thought cruelly. Everything that happened from this point forward would be her plan, and hers alone!
She walked casually down several corridors, receiving courteous nods from officers and enlisted personnel. Damn suck-ups, looking for a promotion. She knew the routine well enough. Making nice with Councillors was a good way to move up the career ladder. Then again, assassination of your superiors worked just as well. It didn't happen that often, but often enough for people to take notice. It just served to heighten the paranoia already present on SETH vessels. This ship wasn't quite so bad, though. She recognized the amiability of the crew. They weren't nearly as suspicious as most others were. Probably an invincibility complex, a result of this ship's reputation. Relentless had never retreated from a conflict, living up to her name completely. She had never lost a battle in which she had engaged. Winters told herself that this battle would be no different. The ship would prevail. She would prevail. More importantly, she would have the Gauntlets she sought.
She looked to her right. Weapons locker. Opening it with her Universal Access Code (which essentially gave her free reign on any SETH vessel or installation), she pulled out a phase rifle. She checked the settings. Pulse three would be required for this one. Behind the phase rifle was an armor suit, enclosed in a silver pouch. She took the small pouch and tapped its release button. Immediately, the pouch dissolved into her hand, and her body was shielded by a standard SETH battle suit. An enhanced sensor package let her see through bulkheads, walls, floors, and so forth. It also provided a targeting mechanism, and could sync with the phase rifle to produce a deadly synthesis of speed and accuracy. She activated the computer link which every suit was given access to. Standing orders were to infiltrate the interior of the Radical's compound. Penetrate and eliminate. There were the coordinates. She pressed them into her transit unit, and appeared immediately on New Avalon, inside the Radical's hideaway. Weapons fire. She ducked. At least a dozen SETH Psi-troops were scrambling for cover. The Radical's people were fighting like madmen. One of them even seemed to be badly injured, and was still struggling to fire his weapon, propping himself against a wall. But something about him cried of familiarity to Winters. In the haze of energy pulses, she couldn't make out his face. She fell back behind the Psi-troops for cover, trying to discern his features. Lazar, Jouko. She knew he was familiar! He headed the R&D part of the Internal Security Corporate, devising new methods of telepathic blocking, formulating stealth technologies, and so forth. He was fired for "misappropriation of funds," though Winters had really just terminated his employment out of suspicion. Something about him didn't seem quite right. For one, he was about as secretive as she was. She cringed as he recognized her. Too late to stay hidden now. He was aiming. Right for her. Her head. She bit her lip and rolled right. Her less and less frequent trips to physical conditioning centers had cost her dearly. The shot hit her shoulder. She had the presence of mind to aim her own weapon. It struck his. It fell from his hand.
He looked at her in shock. When had she become such a good shot? Damn SETH battle suits! His broken ribs were crying out for aid, and the torn ligaments in his leg demanded that he lie down and rest. There was no giving up. If he gave up, his entire agenda would be finished. He had to escape this planet alive. The Radical was never going to get around to helping his cause. He knew that now. Survival was the priority at this juncture. SETH liked prisoners. Very much so. Thus, he raised his hands in surrender. "I submit to your superior tactical skills," he said as the weapons barrage died down. The others that had been fighting alongside him stopped fighting. When Jouko Lazar surrendered, it was time for everyone to do so.
Winters groaned as she stood, trying to ignore the pain in her shoulder. Approaching Jouko, she glared at him in disgust. "I never thought you'd become a traitor."
"The only true traitor is the one who betrays himself," he said proudly, knowing he had lived up to his words. He was no traitor.
"I don't share your belief, Lazar. Nor do I share your sense of pride in this. You have lost. You are going to die. And so is the Radical."
As if her words summoned him, the Radical stepped out from behind Jouko. "I shall not die today, Councillor," he said. He was unarmed, a fact Winters regarded with concern.
"Why do you say that?" she asked with feigned interest, and a touch of impatience.
"Because you still need me, don't you?" Not really a question. And they both knew it.
She turned to the only two SETH Psi-troops left standing. "Take these other prisoners and go. Leave the Radical with me." They stared at her in question. She realized they didn't know who she was. "I am Councillor Winters of the SETH Council! You will obey my directive!" she boomed. They nodded in reply, and led the other prisoners from the room. The smoke was slowly dissipating, but the stink of burned flesh and other materials charred in the firefight was prevalent in the air. Now she remembered why she transferred from SETH Forces to the Internal Security Corporate. She leveled her phase rifle on the Radical. "This weapon has three settings: Pulse one, pulse two, and pulse three. Pulse one causes a synaptic overload, inducing unconsciouness. Pulse two is significantly more destructive, and inflicts considerable damage to the central nervous system. The result is irreverisble neurological damage. This weapon is set to pulse three. Shall I have you guess what pulse three does to live humans?"
"Well played, Winters," the Radical said amusedly. "But you still don't have the information you desire. And the only way you'll ever see it is if you cooperate."
She lowered her weapon. But only slightly. "Let's talk."
"Let's don't," came another voice. She felt something press into her back. The nozzle of another phase rifle.
"Maxwell," she said under her breath.
Solomon appeared behind the Radical, pointing his own rifle at the Radical's temple. "Both of you are coming with us to the Relentless," Solomon said.
"Don't count on it." Another voice. Thurston Stokes held a weapon against Solomon's neck. "Disarm yourself, Maxwell. Or your little Originator dies."
The Director scanned Stokes. The boy had no capacity for murder. This was, needless to say, very good to know. Maxwell shot Stokes in the arm, forcing him to drop his weapon. Solomon kicked it away and grabbed him. The Director gripped Winters, forcefully slamming her phase rifle from her grip, and let it sink to the floor. As the Radical tried to move, Maxwell aimed his weapon precisely. "Stand still."
"And just what are we going to do?" the Radical asked. "Stand here while you all point your weapons at me? Where am I going to go? You have my people prisoner. The Avalonians can't put up that much of a fight without my guidance. In fact, most would be eager to join SETH. Therefore, allow us to sit and have a friendly discussion about all our ills."
An uneasy silence pervaded the room. They all looked at each other, seeking a trace of weakness, or some hint that they would attempt to break free. The Director spoke first. "I want to know what Winters is after. Councillor, if you will... explain your actions. No lies, no half-truths. Be honest with me here and now, or you'll just be a casualty of war."
"Not a chance. Just as I need the Radical, you need me. You have to find out what I'm hiding, don't you? You won't be able to live without knowing what secrets I hide. They taunt you, don't they?" She elbowed him in the stomach, a move he hadn't expected. That's what I get for thinking of her more as a bureaucrat than a soldier, he chided himself. She wrestled Maxwell for his weapon. Not even close to being a match for his strength, he easily overpowered her. But Stokes had used the opportunity to struggle with Solomon. And he had succeeded. Solomon was being held on the ground at gunpoint. The Radical approached Maxwell, and grabbed him away from Winters. "You do not belong here. These matters do not concern you." Both Maxwell and Solomon were whisked away, courtesy of the Crimson Dawn. Winters gave him a confused glance. What was he doing?
"Now, Councillor... we have much to discuss. Beginning with tales from days of yore, of Ancients and Artifacts... and of stalwart Gauntlets, molded from Excalibur's hilt."
--End Chapter Twelve--
Chapter Thirteen
Part One: Forged Allegiance
49983 A.D. New Avalon.
The Radical's compound stretched across several square kilometers, an intricate network of tunnels and chambers, nearly impossible for outsiders to navigate unless provided the courtesy of a map. It was on the other side of the planet from the main settlement, in order to spare the Avalonians the wrath of forces bent on killing the Radical and his followers. That had been the idea, at least. Not that it really bothered Winters. At the last report, about a hundred Avalonians had been slain for resisting the SETH Forces. The Radical had been their actual target. Now, she had the Radical. Weapon in hand, she pointed it very carefully, and her expression intimated the implications as effectively as her rifle. "Why would you not divulge to me on the Relentless?" she asked.
"If you would," the Radical said, "Please help me with Stokes. He is injured. Just help me carry him to Doctor Deyser. Colin was very shaken up by that Psionic attack, you know. Nevertheless, Thurston Stokes needs his attention. How is your shoulder?"
Amsha Winters moved to help the Radical lift Stokes. "I can block out the pain. I'll carry him to a bed, or whatever it is you want him placed on." They lifted, and the Radical led them to the small medlab. Colin Deyser was staring blankly at the floor, muscles tensed. He was trembling noticeably, and perspiration covered his face. The Radical put Thurston on a medical slab, and went to Deyser. "Please try to calm down. The attack is over."
"But... they took him. Jouko. And the others. Shouldn't have happened... it shouldn't! Coward!" he shouted, a word he was inflicting upon himself.
"You're a doctor," the Radical said, trying to comfort him. "Your business is not killing. I cannot hold you responsible for those that were taken prisoner. Right now, you have a patient. Thurston has been shot in the arm by a phase rifle on... which setting was Maxwell's weapon on?" the Radical asked, turning to Winters.
"Blue beam. It was pulse one. I think he tweaked it a bit, since the skin looks a little burned. It's not supposed to do that."
"He has a burn on his arm," the Radical said to Deyser. "You know how to treat burns. You're a doctor."
Deyser closed his eyes and nodded, his body shaking a bit less than it had been. He moved his eyes up to meet the Radical's. They seemed distant, and he spoke as if he were somewhere else. "Doctor... I'm a doctor."
"Yes, you are. Do what your profession requires," the Radical urged.
Colin stood up unsteadily, and walked toward Stokes. Unconscious. Right arm, second degree burn. Blisters already forming. Energy weapon was used. He pulled out a medical scanner, and looked for neurological damage. Nerve endings were hyperstimulated, probably from the shock of the weapon bolt. Taking a pouch from his belt, he placed a small blue chip on Stokes' neck. It melted into his skin immediately, sedating him. He passed a tiny sphere over the man's arm wound, and it slowly faded away. "He... he'll be okay. But he needs to stay unconscious until the effects of the weapon have dissipated."
"Thank you, Colin. Now examine yourself. Make certain you are not harmed," the Radical said. Winters observed this entire scene in surprise. No one from SETH actually knew the Radical personally. Compassion was a trait their analysts had entirely ruled out. SETH psychologists plainly stated that the Radical was a classic example of an antisocial personality, and was a menace to society. Any society. But psychopaths had no room for compassion, did they? Perhaps the Radical was not quite the madman SETH perceived him to be.
Colin was finishing up his self-examination, and looked at the results. "Increased endorphin levels. That's from the... the Psi-attack. Think I need a... a sedative. A sedative. Somebody give me a sedative!" he screamed.
The Radical's eyes shifted to Winters. "Have you ever seen the handiwork of your Psi-troops up close?"
"No, I can't say I have."
"This is the result. I hope you take great pleasure in your work. This is what your soldiers do to people."
"So you've seen this before?"
"Believe it or not, some have fled SETH to settle on New Avalon. Your own citizens are abandoning their government. Not many, but enough. Most of them have problems like this. The effects from a Psi-troop assault are irreversible and devastating."
Winters carefully thought over what he was saying. She was not aware that long-term psychological damage resulted from a Psionic attack. "We have never actually done research on the effects. I honestly had no idea."
"Of course you didn't. You think you are the best there is at subterfuge and secrecy. You are not. I doubt even Sovereign Uxbridge realizes the sort of things that your military does without sanction. They are essentially free to plunder the universe, and pity those who would try to fight back."
"No government is perfect. It's a small price to pay," Winters rationalized, though she had a hard time believing it herself.
The Radical sighed, and they both sat down on chairs on the medlab. "That's not what we are here to discuss, anyway." He turned to Deyser. Sleeping on a medical slab, having obviously sedated himself. "You must tell me why you want the Gauntlets before I will help you."
"Their power, pure and simple. You know how to lead me to them, or even give them to me. My intention is to overthrow SETH. I imagine that prospect pleases you?"
"Very much so. But then, your word isn't exactly worth much, is it? You betray your government in favor of personal ambition."
"This isn't just for me. There are others who are prepared to follow me. They just need me to make an opening gambit."
"And you require the Gauntlets to make that gambit."
"Yes!"
The Radical tapped his fingers on a console, thinking slowly. "Are you familiar with the legends surrounding the Ascended?"
"You mean Elim, and so forth?"
The Radical nodded.
"I know that there have been no Ascended since Elim, but that there is supposed to be one every millennium. Landon's interrogation of you also had you mentioning that you believe Stokes is Ascended."
"All of that is true. Unfortunately, I cannot know if Stokes is Ascended until the four show themselves."
"Four?"
"Ascensions used to require a Triumvirate. A Protector, a Betrayer, and a Redeemer. Now, there are four. They are simply called 'of the Ascended.' The fourth person is called the Tempter. The Ascension has not been fulfilled in eons. I plan to change that."
"You wish for there to be an Ascension in this era? How does that affect me?"
"Your cooperation with me will affect everything. I will see that someone Ascends in this generation. But if you do not cooperate with me, that Ascended will destroy you completely. Do the very small favors that I ask from time to time, and your hold on the universe shall be secure."
"So in return for me agreeing to this, you'll give me the Gauntlets?"
"Well, you have to help me in the Ascension to begin with. The four 'of the Ascended' will be very close to each other. Closer than most friends can ever be. You have the resources to find them."
"Consider it done, Radical. You have my word I will do what you ask."
"Isn't that better than your 'Tell me now or I kill you' approach?"
"It was obviously more fruitful. Now, the Gauntlets!"
"Ah, the Gauntlets. Have you heard tales of one called the Hellion?"
"Yes... it's just some old story told by the crewmen on starships to frighten each other. Something about a ghost that makes reaction drives detonate, destroying ships piecemeal."
"It's not just a myth, Winters. There IS a Hellion. And he remains ever close to the Gauntlets, for he guards them. They were once his own... though that is a story for another time, and one you need not hear."
"I just want to know how to get the Gauntlets!"
"You should be more patient. You have waited this long... a few more years will not kill you."
"Years don't mean much anymore... not since we all end up living so long. Still, the sooner I can have the Gauntlets, the better."
"Check your own ship records, Winters. Find the pattern. Look for cases of ships being destroyed inexplicably. The Hellion strikes more often than you think. Not all inexplicable destructions are caused by him, but many are. And together, they trace a path to the Gauntlets themselves. Keep in mind that they may have traversed half the universe, perhaps having been caught in hyperspatial wakes and such. But there will be a trail. You can count on that."
Winters sighed. "It will take me years to look through the ship logs. But your information has proven priceless to me. I thank you for your help."
"Thanks are not what I demand."
Winters smiled. "Of course not. You shall have anything you wish of me, Radical. And don't worry about finding a way to contact me. When you need something, I'll know."
"Very good. I wish you fortune in finding the Gauntlets, Councillor. May your endeavors bring success!"
Winters nodded, and transited off the surface to the Relentless. She had achieved more in this one day than since she began her search several years before. A few more years, and a lot of research, and she would have those Gauntlets!
Part Two: Problems Solving Themselves?
The Relentless.
"Uxbridge isn't going to be too thrilled about this," the Director said, looking up at Solomon.
"I don't know what more we can do. The Radical is in control of the situation, and I doubt Winters even realizes it." Solomon was standing next to a small table, leaning against it, while the Director sat by it in a chair.
"She's blinded by her own plans. Anything that fits into them, she's not going to question. The Radical is going to use her for whatever he needs, then he'll ditch her. What's even worse is that Landon won't even let us interrogate the prisoners taken from the Radical's compound."
"That's understandable. She doesn't want to take the risk that they'll be 'silenced.' Keeping each one of them isolated is the only way to do that."
"I think it's an overzealous precaution. I don't think I could even get Uxbridge to persuade her."
"And he cannot order her to make the prisoners available, either."
"Damn regulations. She's allowed prerogative when it comes to prisoners, since she has to keep them 'viable.' Dead prisoners aren't too viable, are they?"
"It doesn't matter... they won't talk, anyway. They have utter loyalty to the Radical, and they'll not divulge, ever." Solomon hoped Jouko would not have to be executed. Their plans were too important, and Jouko was too instrumental in them, to risk losing him now.
"What do you suggest we do?" the Director asked. "I've got nothing."
"Perhaps we should just go. Winters' plans, whatever they are, will play out whether we know of them or not. And if you are right about her and the Radical, then he'll kill her when she's no longer useful. Which would, of course, solve the problem of her 'agenda.' I, however, am going to return to prison. There's no question about that."
The Director smiled and grabbed Solomon's arm. "You're not going to prison. You're going to become MIA."
"Missing in Action?"
"You've got it. I can smuggle you back to the End Point on my ship, as soon as the effects of the HS-warhead evaporate. I want you to lay low until then. How long until the effects are gone?"
"At last estimate, five hours."
"Then sneak aboard my ship in exactly five hours. I will see you there." The Director handed him a few blue tabs. "These will knock out the guards. You know how to use them."
"Apply them to any visible epidermis. I've done this before."
"All right then. I have some work to do here... I need to talk to Landon some more. See you in five."
"In five hours, then."
Part Three: To the Death
The Fortunatis Megacluster. The Renegade.
Daemon-Ra glowered at the face of the human captain on his viewscreen, who was staring right back at him. He had always liked staring down his opponents. And his prey. He had not decided which one the Terran captain was, yet. But he did know one thing: prey, especially humans, fought especially hard when cornered. He'd have to remember that.
"You have two options: Surrender or destruction," the captain explained.
"Well, maybe you should pick. I think it's really nice of you to offer to surrender," Daemon-Ra replied.
The human smiled. "Your attitude precedes you. It will only lead to your death. Choose now!"
"Sorry, I've got more important things to attend to." Daemon-Ra switched off the viewscreen, and cut the comm-channel. He turned to his Shi'Ar engineers. "I really hope the shields are working. And the weapons, too, for that matter."
"Barely," one answered. "I suggest we flee."
"And what fun would that be? Power weapons, raise shields. Prepare for combat."
Everyone took their stations: Koraxians, Dor'Tel, Shi'Ar, Kree, Vorchons, Oolians, and so on. Sirens blared, until Daemon-Ra ordered them silenced, and they were all ready when the first salvo struck their ship. They were not tossed about, but instead held steady to their seating, or clung using whatever appendages they had to anything that was available. "Return fire!" came Daemon-Ra's order.
The Renegade threw out a series of blue and red pulses, yellow balls of energy, and dark projectiles at the Terran ship. As they struck, puffs of fire blew out from the ship, and more fire was drawn to them. Apparently, the first salvo from the SETH ship had been a warning shot. This one ripped through the Renegade, tearing into the hull, breaking the ship apart. "Get us out, now!" Daemon-Ra shouted. He hated retreating, but their ship was too badly damaged to stand up in a fight. His Shi'Ar engineers were working on the hyperdrive, and activated it as quickly as they could. Once they were inside hyperspace, they noticed that the SETH ship was pursuing.
"Calculations... I want to know what will happen if we fire weapons in hyperspace," Daemon-Ra ordered. "Quickly!"
"All instances of such a tactic have been relatively unsuccessful," one engineer replied. "Since all of our beam weapons travel at lightspeed, it's unlikely they'll strike an attacking ship unless they are aimed very precisely, including compensation for distortion effects, temporal dilation, and dimensional diffraction."
"Then get busy! What would happen if we actually hit them?"
"The beam would occupy dozens of points within the ship simultaneously. Complete structural disruption."
"That's what I like to hear. Probability?"
"Three percent."
Daemon-Ra frowned. "I hope we've got a lot of shots, and a great deal of luck. Begin calculating and firing, gentlemen!"
The engineers scurried to work, working out math sums and products, recalibrating the beam weapons, targeting specific hyperspatial dimension-references. They fired a shot. Completely off the mark. Daemon-Ra shot them an annoyed look. "Get it right next time."
They went back to work, and realized that the SETH ship was trying the same thing. A beam narrowly missed the Renegade. "It's a race now. Hurry!" Daemon-Ra urged. He didn't feel like dying just yet.
"We've got a good shot! Simulation says it's a good shot!" a Shi'Ar shouted.
"FIRE IT!" Daemon-Ra ordered. A blue beam ripped forth from Renegade, and tore into the SETH ship. At first, they only discerned a small shudder. Then a few pieces of the hull stripped away. Then a string of explosions blew off its lateral hull, and finally the ship blasted itself into millions of bits and pieces.
Daemon-Ra sighed in relief, and smiled at his engineers. "I hope that wasn't just luck. We need repairs, badly."
One of the Koraxian crew spoke up. "There might be a place we can go."
"Where?"
"The old Koraxian shipyard in the Small Magellanic Cloud."
"A shipyard??" Daemon-Ra smiled. "I think we may be getting somewhere. Set course and take us there as quickly as possible!"
--End Chapter Thirteen--
Chapter Fourteen
Part One: Mixed Feelings
1998. New York City.
Staring into the mirror, he wondered just where the problems had begun. If he were being utterly honest with himself, he would say it began when he was a small child. He had always had great difficulty in making decisions. It wasn't that he was unintelligent; he was, in fact, extremely bright. But that intellect led him to indecision and delay. He never acted impulsively, and often never acted at all. He simply took anyone else's judgment as being better than his own. Now, the one time he had acted without thinking, Caeleb Arvin felt betrayed. Betrayed by Arianna. Betrayed by himself. Especially himself. The face glaring back at him filled him with contempt. His short-cropped dark hair and brown eyes, light playing off of them mildly, made him feel ill. He drew his lips together, and furrowed his eyebrows. He fought the urge to break the mirror. The hotel would probably have made him pay for it. His head was splitting. Probably a combination of his own stress, and whatever drugs he had inhaled (or otherwise) the previous night. He briefly recalled how drugs were administered in this era, and checked for signs of injections. He was a little more at ease when he found none, but it did nothing for his guilt. Would she think he had used her? Or had she used him? Was she looking for something more than friendship, or had he actually ruined their friendship? The person who had the answers was sleeping, but he gave it little regard. He would never ask her about those things, anyway. Instead, he would play things however she did. He had to convince himself that her feelings were more important than his own. To him, they were more important. He never truly cared what happened to himself. Whether he died or lived, it was of little matter. He knew he would never make a difference to anyone or anything. Not even to Arianna.
He shuffled back into the main room in the suite, to the bed that he and Arianna had slept in. Several other people were still present, sleeping, in various levels of clothing, and diverse degrees of coherence. Some had their eyes open, bobbing their heads back and forth. Others simply looked blankly at the air in front of their eyes. Arianna's plan had backfired, as far as he was concerned. What was supposed to be a vacation may well have become a temporal incident. He hadn't really thought of what these teenagers were supposed to have done instead of coming to last night's fiasco. What if he had accelerated the Rift? What if an entire line of descendants was wiped from existence because of him? He closed his eyes and tried to shake off the thought. It would be hard enough to face the wrath of the Director when they returned to the End Point.
He put his hands on Arianna's shoulders, and shook gently. "Ari... it's morning. You need to wake up."
She opened her eyes and squinted at him. "Already?" She groaned and rolled onto her stomach, trying to go back to sleep.
"Get up, please," Caeleb said urgently.
"Caeleb!" she shouted, sitting up. She glared at him fiercely. "I am tired and sore and not thinking clearly. Wake me up LATER!" He quickly stepped back, trying not to antagonize her further.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"You should be." She fell backward and went to sleep.
Caeleb spent the next hour in an effort to rouse the other "guests." Most were uncooperative. A few had no idea where they were, and no recollection of last night. He supposed it was just as well. The less they remembered, the less temporal impact this incident was likely to have. He came to the couple Arianna had introduced to him. "Ben, Becca... time to get up."
Ben moaned and stretched out his arms, and allowed his eyes to adjust to the sunlight coming in through the large window. "What time is it?"
"Oh-nine-hundred."
"Oh no, no," he said through a haze of sleep. "Can't be morning yet."
"It is. And you need to leave."
Ben glanced at him for a moment. Then the reality struck. "No, no! It's morning! Rebecca, wake up! Gomurr is going to kill us!"
Rebecca responded to his shaking with, "'m the Headmistress... we'll be fine... just fine..." Caeleb could tell she was only half-conscious.
Ben stood and tried to pick her up. "She's too heavy."
"...heard that...you jerk..." she whispered, still mostly asleep.
"I'll help you," Caeleb said. He picked up Rebecca and carried her just outside the door to the suite, and put her down on the floor. "I'm sorry I can't take her any further. Can you handle it from here?"
"Yeah," he said. "Guess I'll drag her to the elevator, then get us a cab. Thanks."
"Right...no problem," he said, and then shut the door. He sat down on one of the chairs, glad that everyone was gone. The entire suite was a mess. Food, empty alcohol containers, and numerous items he could not (and did not want to) identify, littered the room. He hoped Arianna still had plenty of money left. He tried to wake her again. This time he met with significantly more success.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm gettin' up," came her response.
She sat up and stretched, and moved off the bed. He had to catch her to keep her from falling to the floor. She noticed his hands gripping her arms, holding her steady. "You've got strong arms," she observed, then gave him an impish grin. Then she moaned, and clung to him. "I feel horrible... like someone ran a timeship up, down, and through every part of me."
"I can sympathize," Caeleb said. He felt much the same way. "You'll feel better once we get back to the End Point."
"Yeah...goooood idea," she cooed, nearly falling asleep again. He continued to hold her upright.
They both hobbled to the elevator, and went down to the ground floor. Caeleb had the presence of mind to activate their image projectors, so that they looked the way they did when renting the room the first time. He also tried to conceal Arianna's dazed expression.
"Did you have a pleasant stay?" the man at the counter asked. The same one as before. "I do hope you've rid your room of those rambunctious teenagers."
"Yeah, we did," Caeleb said. He reached into Arianna's pocket and grabbed all the money she had remaining. He tossed it to the desk clerk. "Here's a nice bonus for you."
He grasped the money and flipped through it. "This must be at least ten grand... thank you, sir!"
"Don't mention it." Caeleb and Arianna nearly crawled out the door to the hotel, and looked at the blazing sun. Too damned early. At least they still had their tethers. Caeleb mentally activated his own, holding onto Arianna so she would be scooted back to the End Point with him. So much for their "vacation."
Part Two: The Face of Eve
49983 A.D. Darktropolis.
During the first eight years of her life, there was no privilege that Eve Jensen was denied. None were very certain where her surname came from. It was said to be given to her by the Control himself. And where he obtained the name would always be an unknown to them. She was heir to an entire planet, and every pleasure was hers at command. Still but a child, she had already been introduced to the many flavors offered by the flesh, a trait she had likely inherited from her father. She owned a small portion of his abilities. Small, but only relatively. Her power was great enough to thrust terror into anyone's mind. She had very specific "preferences," and the smirk that her lips formed just before she executed someone had become legendary. Still too young to mask and control her emotions, she killed whimsically. At times, her father included her in his own orgies of sex and flesh and violence and death, and she savored every delicious instant rapturously. Never had Darktropolis seen such a twisted--and powerful--child. She was not completely without sense, however, for she knew not to kill the members of the Starfire Club. Sominus, Galen, Arcturus, Flashfire, and the Risen were all beyond her whims. She was perfectly aware of the displeasure that would come from her father if she disobeyed him.
On this dreary day (not atypical on Darktropolis), she lounged comfortably in her father's throne-like chair, clothed only by the shadows inside the clock tower. In the darkness, her perfect dark hair and haunting eyes were invisible to all but her father. As Galen and Sominus strolled into the room, they looked up at her. When they did not kneel, she stood and shouted at them. "You will kneel before me as you do my father!"
They glanced at each other, and submitted. Not really out of any fear of reprisal, but simply to humor the child. Then they stood again. "We have come with news from your father," Sominus spoke.
"What news?"
"His communion in the Keep is nearly done. When he returns, he will speak to us of the future."
Eve smiled. "Good. I'm sick of waiting for it to happen. I want to know now what is to come!"
"And you must temper your impatience," Galen corrected.
Her lip began curling into a smirk, and she raised her hand. As it glowed Red with the power of her father, she thought better of it, and let it float away. "Do not show me such disrespect again," she warned.
"I apologize, your Highness," Galen said, hiding his sarcasm.
Sominus and Galen left the top floor of the clock tower, and went down to the lowest level, where the others resided. Luther Stokes, aka Flashfire, greeted them first. "What was her reaction?"
"She is but a child, who knows nothing of what is to come," Sominus said. "She responded with characteristic impatience."
"As you say," came the voice of the Risen, "She is a mere child. But a powerful, deadly child."
Arcturus nodded. "And none of us will ever be able to replace the Control after he is gone, unless someone destroys her, as well."
"Do not fear," Sominus said. "All shall be well. I have a feeling that the Control will only be in power for another...oh, decade or more. I'm certain we can all wait that long?"
"If we can find a way to get rid of Eve before then, I'll be a lot happier," Flashfire said.
"The Control's cryptic rantings about the Children of History and the True One are meaningless," Galen said. "They're just an old myth. This 'haven' he keeps demanding we search for doesn't exist."
"Even if he or she did, we'd have no way of knowing it," Arcturus voiced. "He's expecting the impossible."
"He always expects the impossible," Galen said. "And usually, we end up giving it to him."
Then they all thought on the Control. Just how much "control" did he possess? And if he saw the future, then could any of their plans meet with success?
--End Chapter Fourteen--
Chapter Fifteen
Part One: Return to Argument
49983 A.D. The End Point.
Arianna and Caeleb appeared on the timepad. Their arrival was such that they saw Amiel Kravitz sprinting out of the room, and the duo looked at the wall chronometer. Only thirty seconds had passed since they left. "At least we won't get caught this way," Caeleb assured her.
She was in no condition to argue, and he helped her off the timepad, and through the doorway. "Thanks, Caeleb," she said.
"It's nothing," he replied distractedly, as they continued toward her quarters. She still resided within the Director's quarters, though that would change when she became an Operative. If she ever became an Operative. She was beginning to feel doubtful. Should word of this escapade ever breach her father's attention, she felt it unlikely she would ever be allowed to time travel again. The door to the Director's quarters opened quickly, and she walked as briskly as she could to her bed, and laid down. She sighed, and looked up at him as he stood at the foot of her bed.
"Caeleb..." her voice came, seeming distant.
"I'm still here," he replied, sitting down next to her on the bed.
"I'm not sure if what we did was...was...right. Was it? Or was it wrong?"
"I really don't know, Ari. What do you think?"
"I don't know what to think. Maybe I need some time to think about this. I need to clear my head. We're not even supposed to be seeing each other at all."
"No one is going to find out," he said, trying to be comforting.
"Stop pitying me," she snapped. "You don't have to coddle me every time I'm upset about something, Caeleb."
"I'm sorry... I just... I don't know what else to do when you're like this."
"So now this is my fault?"
"I didn't say it was your fault! I was just saying that I don't know what you expect me to do."
"I don't expect anything from you, Caeleb." She rolled onto her side so she faced away from him. "Goodbye, Caeleb."
He sighed, and walked out of the room. Time. They just needed some. At least, that's what he hoped.
Part Two: Eight Years of Abandonment
The Mrrapphian Penal Colony.
Prison wasn't really all that bad of an experience for Morph. Taking on the image of Solomon Kravitz, and essentially taking his place, he learned the ins and outs of prison life over eight years. It was certainly more predictable than living as one of the Radical's attendants. Prison fights were virtually unheard of here, since punishment would be rapid and complete. He really had no idea how long he was going to be here. The Radical had augmented his powers so he could retain both the form and psi-pattern of Solomon Kravitz indefinitely. He glanced around his sparsely-appointed cell to remind himself that it had not changed at all since the first day he arrived. Sometimes, guilt would burden his mind and soul. Guilt for not protecting his people. Guilt for allowing them to be slaughtered. Guilt for letting their planet be turned into nothing more than an enormous jail. They left no legacy. Their structures were converted into prison-related facilities. Their literature and technology were confiscated and destroyed. He was the last of his people. He tried to direct his thoughts away from that subject, for it only served to depress him. Instead, he focused on the day he would get out of prison. He knew it would come, just not exactly when. Jouko and the Radical had promised that his stay would only be temporary. That was eight years past.
The guard came to his cell and released the forcefield. "It's feeding time, Solomon."
Morph stood and walked out of the cell, just as he did every day at this time. Routine. Order. Something built within him. Anger welled up in his eyes and loaded his fists. EIGHT YEARS! He felt an urge to strike someone, anyone. He wanted to exact retribution for the slaying of his people! Lights of fury flashed in his eyes, and he tore into the air around him. The air became solid, and felt like flesh. Like flesh being ripped and torn from another person. A guttural scream pierced his periphery, and his reality was encapsulated in that instant. A dying form, held in his hand. A SETH prison guard. Strangled. The guard's neck was bleeding, spurting hot blood onto the floor. It stuck to his hand in sticky droplets as he picked up the guard's rifle. He had killed him. It was too late to turn back. More guards approached. He blasted a hole in the wall, and changed his form to that of a guard. When one came near, he shouted, "Kravitz escaped into that hole! You have to catch him!"
The SETH guards, completely ignorant to the fact of Morph's shapeshifting abilities, rushed into the fissure, chasing an imaginary foe. Morph shivered at the thought of what he had just done. He had killed. He had sworn, long ago, that he would never again take a life. He had broken his vow. In a few moments of pure silence, he closed his eyes and sought forgiveness from Rhiannon LeBeau. That last time he had killed, she suffered more than any other. So many years ago. Did it really matter anymore? LeBeau was probably dead... humans tended to live only a few centuries at most.
He stood at the edge of the catwalk, trying to focus his thoughts on the coming conflict. This complex was filled with prisoners of all types. Violent offenders, embezzlers, war criminals, extortionists, and so on. He rapidly recalled the schematics of the facility that the Radical had been kind enough to provide him eight years ago. The memories of it were clouded, but he was able to remember where the main power junction for this area was. He aimed toward a small black box on the ceiling, and pulled the trigger. The power was down. Screams and curses rose like a tidal wave, and the Mrrapphian Penal Colony was consumed in sheer madness.
Part Three: Discarded No More
The Small Magellanic Cloud (in the Orion Megacluster). Aboard the Renegade.
When the Koraxian had informed Daemon-Ra of the old Koraxian ship yard here, he assumed the ships would be derelict and unusable. Maybe with some components he could utilize here and there, but nothing too grand. What he found was nothing short of incredible. Thousands of Koraxian ships lay preserved, perfectly unharmed, cloaked by screens even more ancient than Daemon-Ra himself. However, that meant his Koraxian tactician had some explaining to do.
"Vorax, why didn't you ever tell me about this place before?" he demanded. His eyes communicated his anger effectively.
"I wasn't sure if it would still be here. That, and I did not believe we needed the information until now. I was afraid that, if we came here prematurely, it would lead SETH ships directly to the last Koraxian fleet."
"So why tell me now?"
"The ship is critically damaged... and probably beyond repair. We need those Koraxian vessels. It no longer matters whether or not SETH finds them, because we would be more likely to die without the parts we scavenge from these vessels than if we stayed, repaired, and made use of these ancient craft."
Daemon-Ra smiled. "Vorax, we're not going to just use parts from these ships. We're going to put this fleet in working order again. With a fleet this size, we just might be able to stand a chance against SETH."
One of the Shi'Ar engineers stared triumphantly at the immense fleet on their viewscreen. "Victory shall be ours!"
The leader of the Discarded shot him a quieting glance. "Warrax, it does not matter how large your fleet or army is. This fleet is still nothing compared to SETH's. But even the most powerful of forces can fall in the face of a superior intellect. And that is how we shall beat them. Not with brute force, but instead with pure strategy. One by one, they'll lose their key installations to unknown craft, and by the time they realize what is happening, SETH's power will be uprooted, and chaos will dominate the universe... a ripe opportunity for us to take the reins of authority!"
"You believe this will work?" Vorax asked.
"If it doesn't, then the Discarded shall cease to exist. Our ragtag group is dying. Slowly and painfully... we are all dying. Our only shot at vitality is to retake that which once was our own."
Daemon-Ra looked to the fleet on his screen. Ships. So many ships. It would take an enormous amount of skill to organize such a force. And he was never one to bow down to a challenge.
--End Chapter Fifteen--
Chapter Sixteen
Part One: Dreams of Darktropolis
It was the eyes. Those Red, staring eyes. Why did they scrutinize her so intently? She felt naked and alone, no protector, no defense. "Haven..." the eyes whispered. How could eyes whisper? A dark world spilled forth below her, a realm of eternal night. The forever nocturnal. Caeleb's hand was reaching out to her. The world beneath was reaching out to her. Her father was reaching out to her. She could only choose one.
She chose the hand of Caeleb. The instant her hand touched his, she burned. Flesh seared and boiled, charred skin replaced her hand. The Red eyes were looking at her again. "Choose," they said. A city lit up on the world below her. A clock tower. A wave of Red spilled out from it, engulfing the city. It was too dark. She could barely see it. She reached for the hand of her father. Her burned hand healed itself, and latched onto the wrist of Robert Maxwell. She felt sharp stings on her palm, tiny pinpricks that grew into merciless stabs. Her eyes watered as pain flowed through her body, and she realized the error of her choice. Those Red, staring eyes. Still they followed her. Down, down, down to the Red city below. "Black City," the eyes spoke again. "Nocturnal Metropolis."
"Dark Tropolis."
The city was pulling on her, and she no longer resisted. The hands of Caeleb and her father offered nothing but pain. The city soothed her. It eased her. The clock tower approached, and she stepped through its face unimpeded. The eyes now had a body. Like a hidden wraith, the body moved as if it were shadow. A hand reached from the body of the eyes. It clutched her shoulder.
Cold.
She shivered as chills rolled down her spine, wave after wave, the warmth being leached from her body. She fell to her knees, at the wraith-thing's mercy, and looked up at it.
"You are the Haven," it proclaimed.
She opened her mouth to speak, yet no words came forth. Fear had caused her paralysis.
"The City awaits you," it continued.
"Darktropolis," she uttered.
Sunlight flashed through the giant clock face, and the eyes and wraith-body were banished into darkness. She shielded her own eyes. This world had never seen a sunrise. It scorched her skin as she thought nothing could. Layer by delicate layer, she was peeled and torn, losing every scrap of identity. Yet her consciousness remained.
She was scattered to the winds of Time. She felt liberated and free, yet alone. And cold. Then an incredible burst of light came upon her. A sinister light. The Rift was upon her. Her mind was helpless against it, and it crashed over her. Thrust into the light. Beyond the reaches of the universe. Everything, everything she never knew was now in her grasp. Everything...
Blinking. Her eyes refocused. Her quarters. No, she thought despairingly. It was so close. The dream had frightened her, but something about it was intriguing and exciting. It was so unique... beyond her ability to describe. For in a matter of seconds, every shred of the vision was swept from Arianna Maxwell's mind. All, save for one word.
"Darktropolis."
Part Two: Back in the Fold
49983 A.D. The End Point.
The Director's ship pulled into the docking bay, aided by the End Point's guidance systems. Most people found it disconcerting to pass directly through the rings of the Matrix that surrounded the space station, but its physics were relatively easy to explain. It was out of temporal sync, and therefore had no effect on objects in its path. Still, the idea of massive rings of solid material passing directly through a ship were unsettling to some individuals. Solomon Kravitz had never been very fond of it, himself. He looked at the Director, and back at the window that offered a view of the docking bay. "I didn't think we were going to make it out of there," he said.
"Well, the guards you knocked out with those tabs will just think they had an anxiety attack or something. All traces of the drug will have been flushed from their systems through perspiration by now," the Director explained.
"It wasn't very comfortable, hiding in that rear compartment during this whole trip."
"Sorry, Solomon. The rear compartment is the only place on this ship that is shielded from sensors. Your lifesigns would have been picked up when we departed if you weren't in that compartment. As it is, we'll have to explain your disappearance to Landon and Uxbridge."
"I have been thinking about that. It is possible that I could have been liberated by the Radical."
The Director nodded. "That idea could work. However, I'd like something a little bit harder to disprove... Maybe say that you staged an escape on the Relentless, and crawled through the air ducts. You could have gotten too close to the reaction drive, and WHAM! Your body gets turned into neutrinos, and there's not a damn bit of you left."
"A plausible theory," Solomon said, tilting his head in agreement.
"Of course...I thought of it," Maxwell smirked.
They disembarked the courier ship, and Sarah Silver was waiting for them at the exit. Amiel Kravitz was at her side, eagerly awaiting the Director and Solomon. "Hi," the boy said quietly. "I'm Amiel."
Solomon knelt in front of Amiel. It was hard for him to hold back his emotions. Amiel looked just as he did, nearly two centuries before, when he was just a boy. Uncorrupted by the schemes and subterfuges of the universe. "Hello, Amiel. I am Solomon."
"Sarah told me 'bout you," Amiel said, clasping his hands behind his back. "She says you're my..my..gene-plate?"
"Gene-template," Sarah said, correcting him.
Amiel nodded. "I dunno what that means, though."
"It means that, when you are my age, you'll like exactly like me," Solomon said. He was still absorbing his clone's features. So much like himself. He secretly hoped that his clone would test his talents to the utmost. He needed Amiel to be strong and confident. He assured himself that Maxwell and Silver had done an exemplary job in rearing the boy thus far. Discipline and confidence were two traits that the Director always instilled in his future Operatives.
"Solomon," Sarah said. "I really wasn't expecting to see you again."
Solomon stood and met her gaze. "I never expected to see you again, either. Eight years. It's such a long time." He looked out through the docking bay door at the Nexus outside. He smiled. At least some things never changed.
He felt Sarah's arms surround his waist, and was pulled closer to her. "I missed you, old man," she said.
"I missed you, as well. Being an unwilling agent of the Radical is not what I want to do with my existence." He turned to the Director. "How are Arianna and Caeleb?"
"They're...fine, I suppose. Having a few discipline problems, though. They're been forbidden to visit each other, for skipping training sessions."
"And everyone else?"
The Director cleared his throat. "Tyler Nesting is still our Linguist. I'm not really sure if he's all right, though. The accident that cut him off from field work has really taken a toll these last few years. It's hard to keep him occupied. Adam Axleton remains as Caeleb's guardian and as a technician. He's still recovering from a little engineering mishap, but he should be just fine in a few days. Rebekah Corbett keeps our records, being the Archivist. Not much new with her. Mordekai Stokes has been doing fine, but he has taken more leave lately than is normal for him. I'm not concerned yet, because he's not doing anything particularly unusual...but I'm keeping an eye on him. Isaiah Ferguson is currently out of contact in the 301st Century. His tether is non-functioning. Is that still his status, Sarah?"
"Yes, it is. He's not yet reported back."
"All right then... let's see... that's about it. We're backsliding for Ferguson still. That's what we were working on before I left, anyway. Got anymore questions, Solomon?"
"That is all I can come up with right now, Robert. I think I'd like to see my old quarters again."
"It's just the way you left it," Sarah said. "No one touched a thing."
"I appreciate that," Solomon said sincerely. He was glad they had not given up on him completely. As he stepped into the next corridor, he thought on Jouko. He hoped his ally would survive long enough for Amiel to reach adulthood. Otherwise, his task would be made doubly difficult. Maybe even impossible.
--End Chapter Sixteen--
Chapter Seventeen
Part One: The Sterilization Squad
49987 A.D. (5 years until assassination) The End Point.
The four years after the seige at New Avalon were long and difficult. New Avalon itself was briefly captured, until the Radical struck a deal that left both he and SETH satisfied. Amsha Winters was to be captured and executed for treason, but mysteriously disappeared. The Mrrapphian Penal Colony remained under the control of the inmates, even by 49987. Darktropolis fell curiously silent during this period, and nearly nothing was heard from the Starfire Club. Sovereign Uxbridge continued his reign, dealing with the many difficulties that came in the path of SETH. The Department of Chronal Affairs continued as usual, never actually knowing what happened to Isaiah Ferguson. It was believed he encountered a distant ancestor and decided to remain in the 301st Century. It was in 49987 that Caeleb Arvin and Arianna Maxwell were old enough to become true Operatives in the Department. That year was also very crucial to Amiel Kravitz. He had just reached the age of twelve. The beginning of young adulthood.
...
"When will they arrive?" the Director asked.
Sarah Silver checked her monitor. "The sterilization team will arrive in 3 hours, ten minutes."
"That's three hours for us to make ready our defenses. Solomon, this is your decision. Do you want us to stop them or not?"
Solomon sighed and thought it over. It was almost guaranteed that the Department would be considered rogue for preventing Amiel's sterilization. However, it was also pivotal to his plans for Amiel to retain his reproductive capability. "Do what you have to, Robert. Just make sure they don't do what they're coming to do."
The Director handed Arianna and Caeleb their own phase rifles, and equipped Mordekai Stokes with one, as well. All the other members of the Department had decided against this course of action, and so remained in their quarters. The Director had written a report absolving those members of responsibility, since they were not involved.
They all knew the importance of what they were about to do. If they killed a SETH sterilization team, it would be them against all of SETH. While only the Department knew Solomon was still alive, they were certain that news of his existence would escape... but only if they allowed it to happen. Solomon kept Amiel close to him, making certain that his clone would not be harmed. There was little else he could do.
...
Stokes stepped up next to the exit to the docking bay as the ship pulled in. He made sure his weapon was charged and ready, and tried to ignore the sweat dripping from his forehead. His heart was pounding in his chest, the blood racing through his veins. He had never thought he'd become a traitor to SETH. But then, he never thought SETH would condone what was essentially the "spaying" of a twelve-year-old boy. As the six troops filed through the doorway, he stepped up behind the last one, burying the nozzle of his rifle in the man's neck. "Inform the rest of your troupe to return to your ship. Otherwise, we cannot guarantee your safety."
"Halt," the end troop called to the others. They stopped and turned to him. "This man says that our lives are in jeopardy if we do not return to our vessel."
The commander laughed. "Their lives are in far more jeopardy. Kill that one."
As the soldier leveled his weapon on Stokes, he was cut down by a blast from above. Arianna Maxwell fell down on his body, making sure he was dead. "It's too late to turn back now," she whispered to him. The soldiers opened fire upon the duo, and they scattered into the nearest doorways. "When're the others going to show up?" Stokes asked through the haze of phase pulses.
"Any time now. My father is going to take out as many as he can. I hear he used to be an incredible soldier."
An explosion rocked the corridor, and the soldiers collapsed to the ground. Whichever ones were not incinerated, at least. Two of them were still relatively unharmed. The rest were either critically maimed, or simply vaporized. The two that remained aimed and fired relentlessly, setting their weapons to the widest, most sustained blasts that were programmed into them. Caeleb stepped into the corridor, and fired a shot for one of them. He ducked and slid back into the adjoining hall before a shot connected with his chest. The Director walked through the dissipating smoke of his grenade, and grabbed the leg of one of the troops. He pulled, and the soldier slammed to the floor. He pushed the weapon into the man's chin, and prepared to fire. "Wait," the downed troop said. "We're only following orders here. Don't...don't execute us."
The Director psionically verified the man's intentions, and pulled his weapon away. "I did not want to kill you in the first place. Unfortunately, what you came here to accomplish is not something we can allow."
"It's not something we normally do, either. It's been some time since an Originator acquired reproductive ability," the other soldier said. "What are you going to do with us?"
"Well, SETH doesn't negotiate for hostages, do they?" the Director asked.
"No, they don't." Both of the soldiers tensed up, believing that they were about to be killed on the spot. The Director was mildly amused at this misapprehension.
"Gentlemen, we are not going to kill you. But you will never attempt this again, do you understand?"
They both nodded cautiously.
"Good. Now take your ship and get out of here. SETH can declare us traitors if they want, but Amiel Kravitz will not be sterilized against his will."
The soldiers walked back to the docking bay they had left less than five minutes before, and went into their ship once more. It powered up and blasted away, leaving the Department with an uncertain future.
As Silver, Solomon, and Amiel joined the group, the Director looked around grimly. "We've just betrayed SETH. Now, it's just us against them."
But Arianna had the feeling that it wasn't just them. Ever since her first unsettling dream about Darktropolis, she had had several more, nearly every month. She knew that somehow, those on Darktropolis would not allow the Department to be destroyed. At least, that's what she was hoping. Caeleb looked at her, noticing that she seemed deep in thought, and took her hand. "Are you all right?" he asked.
"Yes...don't worry about it," she said, more coldly than she had intended. Their relationship had been strained enough since their "encounter" four years before. Still, they had remained friends, and only occasionally stepped beyond the realm of friendship. One thing had changed, though. She no longer told Caeleb how she felt about anything. It worried him. He felt that she was keeping things from him because she knew he did not share her romantic feelings. But then, he had never worked up the nerve to ask, so he didn't know. He simply sighed as they left the corridor, and a maintenance robot came to clean up the corpses in the hallway.
Amiel Kravitz was not totally oblivious to what had transpired. He knew what they had just sacrificed in saving him from the sterilization squad. They had given up decades of work, thousands of hours of research, hundreds of interrogations of time travelers. And their entire cause was about to be wiped out because they protected him. It was an awesome responsibility for him to take on. How could he ever repay them for giving up everything that they accomplished, just to defend him?
Part Two: Prison Management
The Mrrapphian Penal Colony.
Morph stood atop his large platform, admiring the view it presented him. He could see why this was the best position of command on a SETH vessel. Every important operation was his to see, at a quick glance. The inmates in the prison had adjusted rather well to the new management. He saw that they were all fed at least three times a day, and given opportunities to go outside and enjoy themselves no less than once a week. Caged humans were so much harder to get along with. They were like bloodthirsty animals, scraping and clawing at anyone foolish enough to come near. But remove the walls from the human's cage, and he became a much more docile animal, noticeably more willing to do work than a caged, angry human. Obviously, SETH had never quite learned that lesson. Or, perhaps, the idea simply was not important. After all, they were prisoners. They were to just live out their lives in their tiny boxes, eat when called, sleep when the lights were out, and essentially stay out of trouble. Morph was sometimes worried that the planet would be razed from above by a SETH craft, though it never happened. It had been four years since he took over this penal colony, and no move had been made to strike it down. He didn't know whether that was a good sign or a bad one. SETH might think that the prisoners would rebel, and then starve, and beg for SETH to return and reestablish order. Or it might be something else entirely. He just didn't know.
A group of the inmates approached him presently, and he looked at the report they were transporting to him. "We've opened a semi-core mine below the prison. It will give us the means we need to continue sustaining this facility. Raw matter will be fed into the nutrient dispensation units, and those will be able to feed us. It's hard to get along without the annual SETH supply convoys," the one in charge said.
Morph nodded in agreement. "Unfortunately, SETH isn't going to send us any supplies until we return control of this penal colony to them. How are the guards doing?"
"We are still having to feed them intravenously. They continue to refuse to eat."
"That's four years they have not eaten any food!" Morph shouted. "Tell them that if they don't start eating by tomorrow, then we'll stop the nutrient injections. They'll die."
"Understood."
"Why were you in this prison to being with, if i may ask?"
"Extortion and bribery," the man said, smiling. "Sovereign Uxbridge was none too impressed with my attempts, either."
"Ah, I see. Well, back to work. Keep me posted on the progress of that mine. Perhaps we can construct some sort of vessel and get out of here!"
"That would be fine with me. Oh, one more thing... the other eight complexes have been out of touch for a month or so. Should we send someone to check on them? That's eighty million prisoners we haven't heard from in at least forty days."
"I think it's definitely worth investigating. I hope it's just a comm-system malfunction. Otherwise, we could be in store for some serious problems."
"I hope that's not what it is," the prisoner said with a twinge of worry in his voice.
Morph sat at the warden's desk as they left, looking over the other dataslips in front of him. He was worried that SETH had already taken the other complexes, and were working their way to this one. If that were so, then he will have lost. And no one in SETH would ever know who he really was.
--End Chapter Seventeen--
Chapter Eighteen
Part One: The Prophecy is Delivered
49987 A.D. The Outworld border.
Arianna Maxwell's fingers calmly slid across the control surface, guiding the ship gently across the border. The only way she was ever going to find the cause of her dreams was to go to Darktropolis, and find out from the Starfire Club. Her sensor jamming equipment was operational, and she hoped it would be enough to let her slip through undetected. Members of the Department had already been considered fugitives by SETH, and if she were spotted, it could mean her death. According to her father, they would not operate much differently than they had in the past, noting that he had been rogue before.
"I've had to work on my own in the past. I'll tell you one thing: I didn't have to write any fucking reports... that's what I hate most about working for SETH. Red tape. Now that we're a 'rogue' organization, we can have a lot more discretion in the field. And there's no need to worry about SETH taking a shot at us... they can't hit the End Point if it's in temporal flux, which is how it's going to stay."
She hoped that her father's confidence was well-placed. The Department was the only family she had ever known. She would rather not consider what she'd do if anything happened to them. Best to leave that line of thinking until it actually happens. She had informed the Director that she would be making a trip into the Outworlds, but was surprised when he didn't question her about it. She supposed that he trusted her enough to allow her out on her own. She was twenty years old, after all. No longer a child... just beginning to be an adult.
Darktropolis approached quickly as her ship raced through hyperspace. She decelerated, and fell into orbit around the planet. Almost instantly, her ship was rocked by weapons fire. She had expected as much, and tried to guide the ship into the atmosphere, aiming for the only city she saw on the surface. As soon as her ship had gone fairly deep into the atmosphere, the firing stopped. Her instruments read that she could not achieve sufficient velocity to escape the atmosphere. She had to land. She set the autopilot and waited for it to strike the terrain. Holding onto the control stick of her small ship, she took a deep breath at impact. The ship spun as it rolled across the ground. She closed her eyes, holding onto the interior of the cockpit, waiting for the ship to come to a stop. Metal shrieking and ripping filled her senses, jostled around the cockpit, feeling each bruise and bump along the way. The air had already taken on a twinge of smoke from the overstressed electrical systems. Then, it just ceased. A short hiss of air rushing out of the cockpit, then silence. She opened her eyes, and saw the cockpit window had opened automatically to give her an exit. She climbed out, and looked around. The city was perhaps a kilometer behind her, and she began the journey that would take her to her goal: the looming clock tower in the center of the city, whose glow illuminated her path.
As her feet trod the soft soil, she noticed that the path in front of her was sparkling, as if it were leading her where she wished to go. Eventually, she came to the rim of the city. As she got closer and closer, she began smelling sewage. Other toxic flavors hung heavily in the air, burning her nostrils as she inhaled them. She pulled out a dataslip from one of her jumpsuit's pockets, and had it analyze the air composition.
Twenty percent oxygen, ten percent methane, ten percent carbon dioxide, fifteen percent nitrogen, five percent argon, ten percent ammonia, fifteen percent sulfuric acid (vapor), fifteen percent other trace gases.
Her lungs expelled the air in them quickly upon reading that analysis. Methane, sulfuric acid, and ammonia? No wonder it burned so badly. It also stated that she could breathe the air for about two hours before respiratory collapse. She tried to walk more quickly, to get past the awful air as rapidly as possible. Collapsed buildings greeted her as she wound her way into the city. Then she saw the first signs of life. Children. Naked, skinny, pot-bellied children. Filthy. Their eyes looked at her curiously, and the sight was nearly enough to make her turn back. These children had obviously been malnourished for sometime. Perhaps they were orphans? She had no one to ask, and so pressed on. The next facet of the populace she encountered was a group of men chasing a woman down a worn street. They carried knives and other crude weaponry, and were gaining on her every second. Arianna stepped back, out of their path, as they passed. They were so engulfed in their pursuit of the other girl that they gave her no notice. As the object of their chase turned and ducked into an old building, she heard her screams as the men entered it. Arianna tried to breathe calmly as she realized what they were doing to their new captive. It did no good. Pangs of guilt began to eat at her, as she told herself she should do something. But what could she do? The girl was as good as dead, anyway. At least, that was the only way she could rationalize not helping her. She took slow, measured steps down the street, trying to calm herself. The shouts of the men and the wailing of their victim still followed her, and she began to walk faster. Faster. Faster. Then she was running. She realized she was unarmed. In her eagerness to go to Darktropolis, she had forgotten to take a weapon with her. But then, she had expected the Starfire Club to reside in an enormous palace...not in this dark, deadly Hell. Something blocked her path as she ran, and she crashed to the ground, covered in mud and grime. The foul air stung her lungs even more as she looked up. A woman stood over her, holding something that glinted in the light of the clock tower. She rolled out of the way, hoping the knife didn't reach her skin, and tripped her attacker. The woman went down, and Arianna wrestled her for the knife. She pulled the woman's fingers from it one by one, until the knife rested in her own grip. She gritted her teeth as the blade pressed against the woman's throat. "I apologize for bumping into you. That's no reason to try to kill me," Arianna said.
"It wasn't just for that," the woman said. "You're obviously an outsider. Your clothes...your language."
Arianna then took notice that the woman's speech was being translated through the translation chip in her ear. "You don't speak Standard."
"No, we speak English."
"I don't want to kill you. Will you leave me alone if I let you go?"
"Maybe. Maybe not. What's in it for me?"
"Here." Arianna took a dataslip from her pocket. She tore it in half, and it separated along a perfect line, just as they were designed to do. Both shreds expanded to the size of the original dataslip, and she handed one to the woman. "This is called a dataslip. It's a very useful piece of technology. It can do just about anything you need...direct you to food, help you administer first aid, and even help you arrange transit off this planet, if you wish. How's that? My life for that dataslip... I think it's a reasonable substitute."
The woman took the dataslip and scrutinized it. It became flexible or rigid, depending on how she held it. She tried to fold it, and it compressed down into a cube. She tapped it on the side, and it expanded back to its normal size. It currently displayed her life signs. Pulse, blood pressure, respiration, metabolic rate. She was instantly amazed by it. "Th-thank you...no one has ever given me anything before."
Arianna helped the woman up, and turned the knife so that the blade pointed away from them. "Thanks for not killing me," Arianna said. "What's your name?"
"Flambeaux. Brigitte Flambeaux."
"My name is Arianna Maxwell. I'm not from this planet...I'm from outside, as you had suspected."
"You're not SETH, are you?" Brigitte asked suspiciously.
"I'm not. I am with the Department of Chronal Affairs. We are currently regarded as a rogue organization by SETH. I'm here because I've been having dreams about this place...and a man with red eyes. I don't exactly understand it."
"Red? Everything Red here comes from the Control."
"Where do I find 'Control?'"
Flambeaux pointed solemnly to the massive clock tower in the center of the city, and bowed her head. "There. That is where the Control resides."
"Thank you, Brigitte. May I keep the knife? I might need it."
"Certainly. Thank you for this...'dataslip.' I won't forget you!"
"I hope not. I would hate for us to run into each other again, and you make another attempt on my life," Arianna smiled. As Flambeaux disappeared into the darkness, Arianna walked farther and farther to the clock tower, becoming a bit better at hiding from the marauding gangs and unstable residents.
After another hour of walking, she felt incredibly fatigued. The toxicity of the air was really getting to her. She had only a half an hour left until it would kill her, so she knocked quickly on the clock tower door. It opened, and a middle-aged man squinted at her. "Your business here?"
"I'm here to see 'Control.'"
"Of course you are. Everyone wants to see him these days."
"I've been having dreams about him."
The man smiled. "Perhaps I could introduce you to him and his daughter."
"That's fine...just take me to him."
The door closed behind her, and the man led her up many flights of stairs. Keeping up with him was straining her badly, but the air inside the clock tower was somewhat cleaner than the air outside. Her lungs no longer ached as badly as they had before. When they reached a ledge at the end of the staircases, the man knocked on the nearly invisible door in the wall. The door swung open as if it had a will of its own, and she followed him through it. An array of light and shadows spread across the room, and she noticed the large clock face. It had not moved at all since she had arrived, still at 3:10. She wondered if that had any significance.
Then the voice came.
"You are haven," it declared.
She sighed in relief, glad that her dreams had not led her here in vain. "Yes, I am the one you call 'haven.'"
A pair of red eyes moved through the room, suspended by dark shadows that made the form of a body. "Welcome," the eyes said.
"Thank you. Why have you been giving me these dreams?" she asked.
"Dreams are reality. Importance, undeniable. Lighting the path of the future by the embers of the past."
"What does that mean?"
The man who had led her here spoke up. "The Control never speaks very plainly. It's up to you to decide what he means."
"I'll keep that in mind...who are you, anyway?"
"I am called Sominus. I am the Bishop of the Starfire Club."
"And so he is..?"
"The King of the Club. But it's unwise to talk about him in his presence. Speak to him, not of him."
The Control placed his shadowy hands on Arianna's shoulders. It was the cold. The same terrifying cold that consumed her in her dreams. It was as if every last tie she had was being torn away, and all that she had left to comfort her were the cold and the darkness and the solitude. She reminded herself that she was not alone here, that she was in control of the situation, that she could leave at any time. Then the Control stepped away.
"You know not of terrors in the soul."
"No, I suppose I don't."
"He who is damned will shatter you."
"Who is 'he?'" she asked.
The Control moved farther away.
"He is damned. Destined for betrayal."
"Could you please be more specific?" The Control's riddles were puzzling and aggravating her. She needed answers, and he was not giving them to her.
"He owns part of you. The part that the first and last time-walker owns not."
"Time-walker? You mean my father?"
"A Harbinger. A Traveler. A Destroyer. A Creator."
She thought for a moment. Caeleb? Could it be Caeleb that "owns" the other part of her? It was the only person that seemed to fit what the Control was saying. "It's Caeleb?"
"The damned," the Control said in agreement.
"You said he's destined for betrayal... who is going to betray him?"
"No. None betray the damned."
"So he betrays someone else?"
"The Four will judge his fate."
"Four? Slow down, please... I am not understanding everything you're saying."
"FOUR! A Haven, a Damned, a Dread Son, and an Eve! All will see, even he!"
She stood silent, waiting for him to speak again.
"When the True One comes, the Four will fulfill their roles! All will see... all will be!" His dark arms waved in the air, sending chills down her spine with each word. Every syllable boomed across the top floor of the clock tower.
"What is it you want me to do?" she asked.
The Control approached her, and she felt the need to close her eyes. Something brushed across her face, and a voice entered her mind. Damned you all shall be, if Damned you do not halt.
She opened her eyes, and the Control slid away again. She now had a glimmer of understanding. "I have to stop Caeleb."
"Let the months, years soothe the mind. Decision against fate is possible. But hesitation sharpens the blade of wrath."
She closed her eyes and felt reality fall away, until the form of her room on the End Point took shape around her. She blinked, trying to chip away the shreds of dreams that still clung to her consciousness. She had learned so much in that last dream...and for it to have been so real, she wondered if she had actually been there.
Then she noticed that something was resting in the grip of her right hand. It was the handle of a knife.
An instant of pain followed. There was someone in the bed next to her. The voice of a young girl whispered to her, "My horrors are now your horrors. The Eve is upon you."
Part Two: The First Encounter
New Avalon.
Caeleb Arvin stood with his arms crossed as the Radical took aim. Blue bolts blinked past him, striking the wall behind him, and he smiled. "That doesn't even make me nervous anymore," Caeleb said.
"That's good. It means your conditioning is complete," the Radical said.
"I remember the first time I came here, three years ago. When you shot at me, I ducked, thinking you were going to kill me."
"It was never even a possibility. In the unlikely event that my aim was inaccurate, the Crimson Dawn would have protected you. After all, you're my only 'inside player' in the Department."
"I hope you don't forget that."
"I never will... you need not worry."
Caeleb examined the pistol the Radical was clutching. "That's something new...where did you get a phase pistol?"
"Courtesy of former Councillor Winters. She had some of her new allies send a shipment of arms to New Avalon."
"New allies?"
"She's joined the Coiled Asp Syndicate of the Bolander Megacluster. They control the arms market in that region."
"A crime syndicate?"
"I believe the old expression went, 'Oh, how the mighty have fallen!'"
"You would know better than I," Caeleb said, growing impatient.
"Relax, dear Caeleb... we'll be getting to the point soon. You still must learn patience." The Radical led his charge to another room. Inside it sat a young woman, wearing horribly antiquated garments.
"Those clothes look Twentieth Century," Caeleb observed.
"They are. Her name is Rachel Clarice Ferguson... that is her adopted name."
"So what's her real name?"
"In time... I have some things to show you. Jouko, wake her."
Jouko Lazar grimaced as he stood up, and approached Ferguson. As part of the Radical's "deal" with SETH, he was returned. He would rather have been kept as a SETH prisoner... it would have made his task much simpler. Instead, he had to find a way to both escape the Radical, and to find Solomon. For now, he could do little else but obey. He tapped a red tab to Ferguson's neck, and she came around. Her reaction was expected.
"Whoever you are, you'll release me at once! No one holds the Red Queen of the Hellfire Club!"
The Radical smiled and stood before her. "Anyone who would honor your title has been dead for eons, madam."
"Is that so? Then what's to keep me from killing all of you with my--"
"--powers?" the Radical finished. "You're welcome to try."
She tried to tear the Radical apart with a barrage of her "blink" portals, and found that nothing happened. "You've dampened my powers!"
"I am not a fool, Rachel. Yet you don't even know your true name."
"And you do?"
"What an obvious question... you should know the answer."
"You'll tell me now!" she ordered.
"Stop. Jouko, accompany Caeleb and myself. We will leave the prisoner alone." The three of them left the small room, and Jouko shut the door behind him.
Caeleb looked at the Radical, and asked, "Where did you get time travel capability?"
"Another gift from Winters. She owes me quite a bit, you know," the Radical explained.
"And why do you have her?"
"This," he said, holding up a dataslip. It had a list of parameters on it, and a green field that said "View RNA/DNA Sequence Comparison." Caeleb took the dataslip in his hand, and pushed the green field. Two helixes appeared on it. He recognized the one on the left. "That's the RNA sequence of the Ebon Death virus."
"Yes, it was used during the Purges to wipe out everyone on Earth and abroad. Everyone, that is, save for the Twelve Thousand. But you've read the history texts..."
"I have. What's this one on the right? It looks... it looks very similar to the Ebon Death RNA!"
"Too similar to be a coincidence. That DNA belongs to Ferguson. We believe that portions of her DNA were used as a template for the Death's RNA. Or, perhaps, a descendant of her was the actual donor. Either way--"
"Simone..." Caeleb whispered.
"What was that?" the Radical asked.
"Nothing! Continue."
The Radical's eyes stayed on Caeleb, viewing him suspiciously. Still, he raised no more questions about what Caeleb had said, and continued what he was saying.
"Either way, we have someone who helped shape our time in that very room. The question is, what is to be done with her?"
"Killing her would be unwise," Caeleb said. "She exists so far back in time, the effects of her death could be catastrophic."
"I agree. Still, someone must keep a close eye on her. Will you do it, Caeleb?"
"I will. What do you wish me to do?"
"Follow her movements as she carries out her life in the 20th Century. Intervene when necessary. But do not change anything unless and until it threatens the integrity of the timeline. Jouko, you will give Caeleb any assistance he requires."
Jouko nodded.
"Then we are in agreement. I will return Ms. Ferguson to her home time. She will remember little of this encounter...she will think it nothing but a dream."
As the Radical walked back into the room that held Rachel Ferguson, Caeleb thought over the decision he had made. Hellfire Club... he had heard of that somewhere before. Ferguson had used that term. "Hellfire Club." Starfire Club. He wondered if it was coincidence. He seriously doubted it.
--End Chapter Eighteen--
Chapter Nineteen
Part One: Legends of Ascension, A Revealed Resentment
49987 A.D. The End Point.
"And what, exactly, is it you want me to find out?" Tyler Nesting asked as he looked up at Arianna.
"I want you to look up some old legends... Some of it might even be in The Last Days."
"Since I am our resident Linguist, I'm assuming this has something to do with translations?"
"I'm not really sure. You know about my trip to Darktropolis, right?"
Tyler thought for a moment, idly tapping his fingers on the terminal screen in the cramped room. "I remember. What happened with that little girl, anyway?"
"She's still here. She's staying with Rebekah Corbett. From what Rebekah told me so far, it sounds like Eve is a little bit..." She paused to find the right word. "...morbid."
"Really? How's that?" Tyler asked, interested. Psychology had always been something of a hobby for him.
"She keeps citing a story from her own world. She says it's called 'The Exile of the Mrrapphian.' It has something to do with New Avalon and Darktropolis, and an alien who caused a split between a group of people. It's quite graphic, from what Rebekah said."
"And she's only twelve, right?"
Arianna nodded. "I think everyone on Darktropolis has some serious personality disorders."
"Can't say I blame them... not a very healthy place to settle down. Now, what was it you wanted me to look up?"
"Oh, right... These terms: Haven, Damned, Dread Son, and Eve. Also, 'True One.' See what those turn up."
Tyler entered the database search parameters, and waited for the results to be collated and categorized. He had heard all those terms before, but waited for the search to be completed. The most likely match was a specific copy of The Last Days. He accessed it.
"Okay, this is basically what I thought it was. Have I ever told you about the multiple versions of the Ascended One legend?" Tyler asked.
"No, you haven't."
"It's like this: Every generation, one person has the capacity to lead their people to salvation or destruction. It's not often that that person actually achieves Ascension, because it is dependent on three or four others."
"And they are..?"
"That's where the discrepancies begin. One legend has it being a Triumvirate: a Protector, a Betrayer, and a Tempter. Another has it being Four: a Protector, a Betrayer, a Tempter, and a Redeemer. The number four is generally accepted, since that was how Elim Ascended."
"So what about 'Haven' and so forth?"
"That's where it gets interesting... see, The Last Days was written in many different languages. Some parts were Latin, some were Koraxian, some were Dor'Tel, and some of it was even in Alternate-Reverse Strektkode. Jayden, the gentleman who wrote it all down, had to have been a very brilliant man... assuming he scripted all of it himself."
"How was it translated, if it was in so many languages?"
"Well, after the End Conflicts, two languages became dominant over the others: Standard and Clust'ric. Standard then is pretty much what it is today: a careful conglomeration of dozens of human and alien languages, using a noticeably Terran grammatical structure."
"What's Clust'ric?"
"Clust'ric was a bastardization of hundreds of languages, many parts of it never even being accurately documented as a portion of the language itself. It took one over a century just to grasp the syntax of the language. The vocabulary was immense: over eighty trillion words, excluding all proper nouns and abbreviations. The average 'sentence' was about six hundred words. It was done like a flowchart... I could show you what a Clust'ric paragraph looks like sometime. Anyway...back to the legends. When The Last Days was translated into Clust'ric, some of the more vague words like 'Protector,' et cetera were specified more directly into words like 'Haven.' The translators took a lot of liberty in their translations, and many words were altered. Thus, 'Protector' became 'Haven,' 'Betrayer' becomes 'Damned,' 'Tempter' becomes 'Eve,' and 'Redeemer' turned into 'Dread Son.'"
"I understand Haven and Damned...but what do 'Eve' and 'Dread Son' have to do with their untranslated counterparts?"
"I think what happened with 'Tempter' becoming 'Eve' had something to do with an ancient Creation myth. 'Dread Son' was just an example of excessive translational liberty. That's what happens when you translate by committee," Tyler grinned.
"If I am the Haven, and Caeleb is the Damned, and Eve is...well...Eve...then who is the Dread Son?"
Tyler laughed. "Ari, this isn't supposed to be taken as fact. The Last Days isn't the most reliable source of information on the End Conflicts, though it is one of the most extensive. The legends are just that: legends. Myths. It's ignorant and superstitious to give them any credence."
Arianna sighed. "If you saw what I saw on that planet, you'd believe that anything is possible."
"So you are going to see that an Ascension occurs?"
"I don't know what I'm going to do. The question has become: Who has the potential to Ascend in this generation?"
"Actually, the Director always believed that Mordekai Stokes is the next to Ascend. But then, he has two other twins that could be the Ascended, too. Again, you're assuming that the legends are fact."
"And what if they are? What kind of power would the Ascended One have?"
"Tremendous. Enough to make or break the universe."
"Thanks for helping me with all of this, Tyler. One more thing...where's Caeleb?"
"He went to see his parents. Now that he's an outlaw (like the rest of us), he went to say goodbye to them. He took a ship and left not long after you did yesterday. There's no telling when he'll be back...if ever."
"Are you calling him a coward?"
"I just don't think he has the stomach to deal with what we did. I doubt he'd ever seen a corpse before."
"Maybe not... but he's not a coward. I know that he would willingly die for any one of us."
Tyler moved closer to her. "Here's a question to think about: Would any of us willingly die for him?"
Arianna was taken aback by the accusational tone in Tyler's question. "What... I mean, what is that supposed to mean?"
"He's never even come close to his potential, Ari. He thinks the universe is going to hand itself to him on a triterrium platter without him having to work for it. He never tries for anything more than he has to. He squanders his incredible intellect, and refuses to let his talents shine. There is no respect for him. And someday, his indecision is going to get someone killed."
Arianna held back the emotions that were rushing to the surface. She never suspected that hearing someone talk so harshly about Caeleb could hurt her so personally. "I... I didn't know everyone felt that way."
"Not all of us do. Sarah is a great deal more understanding about it, and so is Adam. Solomon hasn't really had anything to do with Caeleb since he got back... and your father has just about given up on him. If anyone is going to help him, it's you."
"Why me?"
"Because you're closer to him than anyone else. It's fairly obvious how you two feel about each other. If you really care about him as much as you think you do, then you'll talk to him. His life has barely begun... and it's not a very good start so far."
"I'll do that. Thank you, Tyler," she said as she began to walk from the small room.
"Ari," he said, catching her before she left. "Don't force him into anything. He has to want it, as well. I'm sorry that what I said was unpleasant for you, but it was necessary. And if you ever have any more questions concerning the Ascended One legend, you can ask me."
She nodded, and left the room. Tyler Nesting had always dismissed the legends as foolish dreams. Yet he lived in a strange, mysterious universe. The more man's horizons expanded, the more questions arose. Answers were becoming fewer and fewer. What if the legends were true? If they were, he feared it could bring nothing but pain to the Department, and those who would participate in the Ascension.
--End Chapter Nineteen--
Chapter Twenty
Part One: Ethics
49987 A.D. The End Point.
The Director paused as the seal of SETH flashed on his screen. It was waiting for his acknowledgment. But he decided it was better for Uxbridge to have to wait a few moments before he opened the comm channel. He cleared the dataslips from his desk, and tapped the small red key that accepted the communications request. "Robert..." Uxbridge began, barely keeping his anger in check.
"Hold that thought--" the Director said, securing the channel with the click of a few buttons. He then began recording it onto a hidden dataslip.
"...you have a hell of a lot of explaining to do." The holographic representation of Uxbridge conveyed the Sovereign's displeasure to Maxwell, and the Director was sincerely glad he wasn't there to face it firsthand.
"I was expecting you to call me weeks ago, Sovereign. What took you so long?"
"I've been busy...cleaning up the mess you made when you obstructed the sterilization squad!"
"I apologize for any inconvenience it caused you. I assure you, it was well worth the effort."
"Do you have any idea how many laws you violated?"
"Enlighten me," the Director said with passing interest.
Uxbridge pulled out a dataslip, and began reading the list of charges. "Four counts of first degree, premeditated murder. Six counts of assaulting SETH officers. One count of obstructing a SETH directive. One count of threatening SETH employees. Multiple counts of destruction of SETH property. Several counts of illegal use of SETH equipment... you did use our weaponry to stop the squad. There's also a count of emotional abuse of a minor. Oh, and let's not forget the big one: all of you that particapted have a charge of treason to your credit."
The Director's eyes widened. "Wow... I hadn't realized we violated so many laws. And what's the 'emotional abuse' charge?"
"It is the contention of the Council that you, by stopping the sterilization squad, performed irreparable psychological harm to Amiel Kravitz. That's not including the damage done to him due to his continued capacity for procreation."
"Don't you think that's stretching it a bit? We saved him from those who would have crippled him."
"You're all marked for death, Maxwell. Including Amiel. The entire Department is to be eradicated at the first opportunity."
"I didn't know you were so cold-blooded, Louis."
"Don't! Don't call me cold-blooded! I didn't issue that order... it was the will of the Council. I was opposed to it... and so were Councillors Lesle, Byers, and Thompson. The rest were all for dismantling the Department. There is nothing I can do to help you."
"Yes, there is. You can stall them."
"How?"
"Cut funding! Complexify the procedures required for waging war! Make things more difficult for the SETH Forces that are to take us out."
"That's treason in itself!"
"So you'd rather betray moral laws than the ones that SETH has set down?"
"What are you getting at?"
"It's a perversion of morality to allow the Originators' continued existence, if they are denied the right to bear children. I don't care if it's been law for eons... it's not right! If you give a damn about anyone's rights, you'll have the Breeding Avowal overturned immediately!"
"You don't honestly think I can do that, do you?"
"What's to stop you?"
"I need Council approval, for one! And more than half of the Council would be utterly against overturning the Avowal. My political career--"
"--would be ruined! So what? Your fucking career is more important than standing up for the rights of the people you were elected to protect?"
"I am protecting the rights of as many people as I can! I can't help it if the Originators aren't happy... with what we give them, they should feel honored! We don't just deprive them of the ability to reproduce... we support them, financially and otherwise! They can easily enter any career field they choose, much more swiftly than any other SETH citizen! SETH even supports some of them completely, and they never have to work in their lives...not one day! They live lives of luxury and contentment... lives that anyone else would dream of having!"
"Answer me a question, Uxbridge: do you have children?"
"I have fourteen."
"Fourteen. What would your life be like if you had never had children?"
"It would be far less satisfying than it is for me now, I suppose."
"Being a parent gives you a feeling nothing else can, doesn't it?"
"It does... but Originators are allowed to raise their own clones. I don't see what you're getting at."
"They're clones! Copies! Mirror-images! It's not a mixture of the characteristics that two parents would give them... it's entirely predictable! And you also limit the number of clones that any one Originator can have at a time. I know that the clones are as human as you and I... but they're not the same as naturally-born children. And they know it. They have only one genetic parent, each."
"Couples are free to raise their clones just as if they were born 'naturally.' You're not proving any points here."
"It is a basic, fundamental RIGHT! What about that do you not understand? What is SETH to say that so-and-so can't have kids because of their genes? It denies them the right to choose!"
"It is for the preservation of ORDER! Without it, the power structure that supports SETH will crumble in chaos!"
"And if the people demand that the Originators be released from this genetic slavery?"
"The tenets of public opinion can not dictate public policy. People are subject to fleeting passions, quick changes of heart. That is why the SETH Council exists... and the governments on all the SETH worlds. They are there to remain steadfast when the people are fickle... to keep order in an otherwise chaotic universe. If we overturn such a basic law as the Breeding Avowal, we have taken the first step in allowing the general public to govern themselves... and that is a crime against the human race!"
"Haven't you ever heard of 'democracy?' Government by the people, for the people?"
"The 'people' do not know what they want! It takes decades to acquire the intelligence necessary to make governmental decisions. The roles cannot just be handed over to the layperson!"
"Why? Why can't you just void the Avowal? Can't you just deal with the repercussions later?"
"It would be suicide! Sacrificing my career for a mere eleven thousand people... it's outrageous!"
"Oh, so it's the number of Originators that prevents you from doing it?"
"Stop making me the villain here! I am just as sympathetic to them as you are!"
"You are NOT! If you cared half as much as I do, you'd do whatever it took to correct the injustice... even die. I am willing. Are you?"
"My concern is for the entirety of humankind. Unfortunately, eleven thousand people are relatively insignificant in the face of that."
"So you figure that, out of eighty trillion people, you won't put your ass on the line for eleven thousand?"
"It's bad politics... and bad judgment. Things have been fairly good since the Avowal was adopted... save for the several Originator Wars, things turned out nicely. Why destroy our tranquility now? You, you're nothing more than the bastard-child of the timestream! You aren't even from this time! You can't come here and dictate policy to me! I can have you killed with an order! A SINGLE ORDER!"
"THEN DO IT!!!" the Director screamed, and smashed the holographic interface with his cybernetic fist. The communication was instantly aborted, and he sighed. He felt hot, and needed to cool down. He performed a bodyslide to the Paradise Lost, where he thought he would relax for awhile. MILTON prepared the Director's usual cup of coffee...real, not synthetic. He drank the cup slowly, as he gazed out at the timestream. It wouldn't be too terribly long before all of the forces at Uxbridge's disposal would be trying to destroy him.
Part Two: Where the Gauntlets Lie
The Bolander Megacluster.
Amsha Winters carefully studied the large map on the wall, white dots pointing out unexplained ship destructions. It covered all of SETH, all twelve Megaclusters being represented on it. At the sides of the huge map she was observing were the Outworlds. It had taken her four years to gather all this data. Hundreds of reports, thousands of probe telemetry logs... all of which she had obtained (albeit illegally) from SETH records. They had led her to disappointment in the past. Some part of the path had always been missing. It had never been complete. Today, she was certain that she had the entire picture. And today, she would know where the Gauntlets of Excalibure waited. She tapped her index finger to the first point inside the Outworlds, near New Avalon. "Begin tracepath recording. Delete all points that deviate by more than eight percent from the route I trace," she said to the computer system. She drew her finger along a path of white dots, through the Weczer Megacluster, then Trebalis, then Grett... finally stopping in the Fortunatis Megacluster. "End tracepath." The dots that didn't follow her trail vanished from the map, and she issued another command. "Identify this region in the Fortunatis Megacluster."
Above where her finger pointed, a list of information appeared. It went from the largest category to the smallest, narrowing it from the Megacluster all the way down to a specific Galaxy.
Fortunatis Megacluster - Corrigan Supercluster - Devins Cluster - Bryll Galaxy
"Magnify Bryll Galaxy," she said. A red box formed around the Bryll Galaxy, and it enlarged to fill the map. She played with the axial controls to rotate the map so that it showed a view about 15° above the galactic plane. The trail of dots was thinner here, and she noticed that the trail ended about halfway towards the galactic center. She tapped it, and spoke. "Identify this area."
Bryll Galaxy - Quadrant Two - Sector 19913
"Magnify region," she ordered. The image once again zoomed in on the small area, and this time she saw approximately a dozen star systems. One of them had a dot inside its asteroid belt. That was where the trail ended. "Identify that system."
Sector 19913 - Zin System
"Specify what ship was destroyed there by unknown means."
The SETH Frigate Thunder was lost on October 5th, 49982 A.D. Cause of destruction: inexplicable, spontaneous overload of reaction drive.
She was now glad she had joined the Coiled Asp Syndicate. While they were criminals, they had immense resources at their disposal. She was able to acquire SETH technology, and even keep in touch with her contacts in the Internal Security Corporate. Even while expatriated, she used her influence to sway the ISC. Now, she would need their assistance again... she didn't trust this large criminal organization to get her to that system safely. No, the Gauntlets of Excalibur were not to be trusted to these unscrupulous men and women. Instead, she prepared to send an encoded information packet to Timothy Staelens, the current head of the ISC. She knew he'd be willing to take her there. After all... he owed her.
--End Chapter Twenty--
Chapter Twenty-One
Part One: Reclamation--Alpha
49987 A.D. The Mrrapphian Penal Colony (Complex 4).
The dark-skinned Pharoahan looked up at the approaching man. Cyan skin. No hair. Definitely the person he had been sent to locate. Daemon-Ra nodded as Morph came nearer, and extended his hand in greeting. "An old human custom...a peculiar one, at that," he said. Morph took his hand and shook it.
"Are you the one that has cut off the Complexes?" Morph asked immediately.
"I'm sorry about that... I had to be certain that everyone would agree to what I had planned before I could contact you. I'm glad to say that things are going smoothly."
"Why was your ship not detected?"
Daemon-Ra motioned for Morph to walk with him, and they proceeded along the long corridor, rows and rows of occupied cells on their left, and light pouring in through a skylight promptly to their right. About two hundred meters further to the right was another row of prisons. This was the recreation area of Complex 4. Morph hadn't been in this particular complex before: he spent most of his time in Complex 1. He looked suspiciously at Daemon-Ra as they walked side-by-side, but made no hostile move. After several moments of silent walking, Daemon-Ra spoke. "My ship has sensor screens that were provided by the Radical."
"And he wants me back, right?" Morph asked, though he already knew the answer.
"He does. His technology isn't free... and the only way for us to travel in such a heavily populated area is by having sensor screens. I need you for a little while before we take you back to New Avalon, however."
"For what purpose?"
"A few years ago, we acquired a fleet of Koraxian ships. Perfectly intact, undamaged. But there are only a little over a hundred of us. There are a hundred million prisoners here. We need them to run the ships, and help us wage war against SETH. We're like you, Morph. As you are the last of your people, so am I of my own. There are very few of us left... you can help us take back what is ours by right."
Morph's eyes widened. It was a daring plan... trusting so many prisoners to pilot a ship. Then again, most of them probably had a healthy hatred for SETH already. They would, in all likelihood, be more than willing to help destroy those that had imprisoned them. But Morph was opposed to war. He had seen too much of it. War had destroyed his people. War severed him from all those he cared about in the Hellfire Club. Worse, he had caused them to split. If not for him, there would be no Starfire Club on Darktropolis. They would all live on New Avalon, and would not bear such hatred toward each other. War was not something he wished to become involved in again. "You can take as many prisoners as you wish... but I shall not go."
"Why not? I can't promise success, but I can promise that we will prove ourselves against SETH's resolve."
"I have no love for war. I will go directly to the Radical."
They stopped at the end of the corridor, and stood facing each other. Daemon-Ra sighed, thinking of what to say next. "Are you positive you won't reconsider our offer?"
"I am responsible for more death and hatred than you can imagine, Captain..." Morph trailed the word, not knowing the name of the person he was conversing with.
"I'm not exactly a Captain, but it's Daemon-Ra," he finished.
"Very well, Daemon-Ra. How will you be getting the people off this planet?"
"We found a large number of what seem to be troopships on the other side of the planet. They were protected by a forcefield emitted by a satellite network, which we disabled."
"Those are slave ships, to carry prisoners to the theramutium mines at the far end of this system. I suppose they will suffice in transporting them to your fleet... they are high-capacity. We could not get to the ships, because of the forcefield you mentioned. I am pleased you managed to disable it."
"It was easy for us, since we're used to cutting around security grids," Daemon-Ra explained.
"I see. I do have one request."
"Name it."
"I would like a ship. Just something that will get me to New Avalon."
"I'll have a shuttle brought down for you. Could you do me a favor, as well?"
"Certainly," Morph said.
"When we start lifting the troopships off the surface, it's bound to attract some attention from SETH. I would greatly appreciate it if you could provide cover for us with the shuttle we give you. I realize you're only one ship, but every little bit helps. I'll be flying a shuttle, too, actually."
"I will give your ships cover, then," Morph agreed.
"Thanks. It's not often we find someone willing to help us." Daemon-Ra thought back to Sominus. He knew that the Starfire Club member had not yet used the Koraxian mindblank... he had it rigged so it would alert him. Sominus had had the thing for years, and had only run test cycles on it. Daemon-Ra smiled, as he thought of what would happen to Sominus when he tried to use the mindblank. "What are you smiling at?" Morph asked, puzzled.
"Oh, it's nothing important," Daemon-Ra said. "It was nice talking to you."
"I thank you for your assistance, and for giving these prisoners something more to do than fight with each other."
"Now they'll have a common enemy," Daemon-Ra added. He hoped he wouldn't have to kill them after they won the war. It would be such a waste of manpower. Then his thoughts turned to other sacrifices that had been made during times of war.
During the End Conflicts, a family called McMendl swore a campaign of retribution against Daemon's family, and his race. Both his family and the McMendls fought bitterly. The feud had begun over the initial strike against Earth that prompted the End Conflicts themselves... and the Pharoahan fleet had taken part in it. As the leader of said race at the time, Daemon was targeted. He never knew exactly why the McMendls were so personally involved, but he suspected that something his people had done had hurt them severly. His attempts at negotiation were pointless--the McMendls wanted only blood. Their battles spread across the Outworlds, spilled into SETH, and destroyed more of Daemon's life than he ever believed possible. Before it was over, Daemon had become Daemon-Ra, and he had lost not only a son, but his entire race. That was when, as far as the McMendls were concerned, the feud was ended. It was not. Daemon-Ra thought idly about his device of revenge. He'll be just so surprised when he activates it... he thought. He had once believed that he would take no pleasure in his revenge... but now, he was chilled by the very idea that he was enjoying this line of thinking. It was far more frightening than anything that had happened to him before. This vengeance was to be a retribution, a final payment for sins committed against him. Now, it felt to him more like revenge for its own sake...just to perpetuate the feud. He tried not to think about it. There was no longer anything he could do about it... once the tool of his revenge had been activated, nothing could be done to reverse it. At least, as far as Daemon-Ra believed.
Part Two: The Winds of Change
Earth.
Louis Uxbridge stared distractedly at his monitor. Maxwell was too good at pissing him off, he noticed. He wouldn't seriously have the Director killed... because he knew that the time-traveler was right. Unfortunately, right and wrong didn't always coincide with the law. He had no authority to repeal the Breeding Avowal. He knew that it could only be done with Council approval. But what if he rallied the support of the public, as Maxwell had suggested? Could it work? If he failed, he would be declared a traitor and be executed. If it did work, then he would be seen as one of the greatest heroes of his time! He stood and abandoned his ornate chair, heading for the door. Maybe today... just maybe... the seeds of the future would be sown.
He saw his aide, Radden, taking a memo from an Ordinate. "Radden, you can finish up with the Ordinate from Grett later. I need you to do something for me." The Sovereign continued walking in the opposite direction, waiting for Radden to follow.
Radden looked apologetically at the Ordinate, and ran to catch up with Uxbridge. "What is it, sir?"
"Does your dataslip have a unimedia link?"
"My new one does," he said, pulling it out of his pocket. "Do you need it?"
"As a matter of fact, I do. This will transmit all across SETH, correct?"
Radden nodded his head. "Simulcast through hyperspace, over any channels you choose."
"I want it to cross every channel, except secured ones. That way, just about anyone watching a rec or a newstran right now will see this."
"It's that important?"
"It is." He held out his hand for Radden to give him the dataslip, and Uxbridge gripped it. "Thank you. I'll return it to you soon."
Radden turned and went back to the Ordinate, retrieving his original dataslip. "You were saying, Ordinate Loeck?"
Uxbridge looked at the dataslip, noting the red border in the upper right corner. He tapped it, and it glowed, indicating that the unimedia link was ready. It reconfigured itself to a multifaceted transit unit, allowing him to control the transmission he would be sending. He set BAND RANGE to ALL NON-SECURED CHANNELS and waited for it to complete the configuration. He went into the small lounge at one of the distant ends of the SETH government compound and sat down. Through the large window, he could see residences... stretching out beyond the horizon. He knew that millions lived in this small region alone, and that there were hundreds of millions in this entire Zone. They, too, would be receiving his transmission. In red lettering, the dataslip said READY, and he tapped the button that would initiate his transmission. "People of SETH, today marks a great step forward in the evolution of the human race. Most of you know who the Originators are... those among us who have genetic disadvantages that keep them from being allowed as part of the genepool. Their ability to have children is restricted. Today, I am changing that. I hereby declare the Breeding Avowal as contrary to the spirit of the SETH Charter, and all regulations imposed by said Avowal are, as of this moment, nulled and voided. Work shall begin immediately in restoring the Originators to full reproductive capability, and they will be allowed to have children. The only stipulation is that they must also undergo genetic therapy to cure whatever genetic dysfunction hinders them. I would like to be the first to welcome the people of SETH into this brave new era, and that they shouldn't fear this change. The Originators are as human as we are. I know that some of you still recall the Originator Wars... and those are all long past. I believe that, together, we can all work to bring a golden age to humankind. Thank you for your attention," he concluded, then ended the link. He had begun forcing the winds of change. Very soon, he would find out just how hard some would push back.
--End Chapter Twenty-One--
Chapter Twenty-Two
Part One: Variable Reaction
49987 A.D. The Relentless (in the Weczer Megacluster).
Emily Landon had seen some bizarre things in her lifetime. The strange star in Fortunatis that exploded once every few months, precisely on cue. The odd writings that were uncovered from the End Conflicts, most notably in The Last Days. The peculiar effects that time travel had on the universe... how some could detect the subtle changes to history, and how some could not. This was yet another one of those events that defied rational explanation.
Sovereign Uxbridge's sudden anullment of the Breeding Avowal.
It was unthinkable. She never would have made such a politically stupid move... morally correct, yes, but ethics never quite found a happy medium within the scheme of politics. Siding with the Originators was, in her opinion, brainless and moronic. Not that she didn't think he was right... the Originators certainly should have their reproductive freedom. But the sheer backlash that was going to result from this action would echo across the universe. Then, something subtle in Uxbridge's universe-wide transmission came to her. He had not mentioned the Council at all. If his decision had been approved by the Council, surely he would have mentioned it. So now, what he had just declared was highly illegal--sufficient grounds not only for his removal from office, but for his execution, as well. But only if his gambit failed.
Commander-in-Chief Landon knew that eventually, everyone would have to take a side. She just hoped it would be awhile before she would have to.
...
New Avalon. The Radical's compound.
The Radical, Jouko Lazar, and Thurston Stokes were--to say the least--stunned. Louis Uxbridge's transmission had just taken forty thousand years of status quo and thrown it all out the airlock. Originators having children? Jouko's dreams had been realized entirely. At last, he could return to SETH, and resume his life there. He could get married, raise a family... do everything he had ever wanted. He hoped that his status as an expatriate would not hinder him in that regard--perhaps SETH would be willing to reinstate his citizenship, given the current circumstances. But somehow, Uxbridge's announcement seemed too good to be true.
Thurston viewed the transmission with detachment. What did it really matter to New Avalon, or anyone in the Outworlds? He honestly didn't believe it mattered at all. It was an internal SETH event, nothing that could possibly affect the Outworlds. But what if it did?
The Radical, while initially knocked off-center by the news, quickly realized what Uxbridge was doing. When the people of SETH discovered that the Breeding Avowal had not been anulled, and that the Council was the agency prohibiting such a move, they would all make the outright demand that the Sovereign's promise be fulfilled. Fine in theory, but would it work in practice? At best, it would spark heated debate and endless controversy. At worst, it could cause civil war. And the worst for SETH was the best for the Radical.
...
Darktropolis.
"That's...unusual," Flashfire observed.
"Not only unusual, it's unheard of," Arcturus added.
"I think Uxbridge is missing a few neurons here and there," Flashfire said half-jokingly.
"Let's hope this matter stays within SETH, and does not spill over into our realm," Sominus said. "It would be a shame if the Control was forced to do what he did the last time SETH pulled an invasion here."
"Maybe an invasion wouldn't be so bad," the Risen said with uncertainty. "I could definitely use some food aside from what I've been eating on this damned planet for the last few eons."
"An invasion would be perfect," Arcturus articulated. "It might throw our oh-so-great leader off guard long enough for us to strike against him."
"Be wary of what you say...and think," Sominus said. "Even though an outside 'friend' of mine provided us with psi-baffles, it doesn't mean the Control can't catch at least a few of our thoughts."
"Where do you get these 'friends,' anyway?" Flashfire asked. "We've never even met any of them."
"Be glad that you haven't... they're most unsavory individuals," Sominus said, almost at a whisper. He hadn't dealt with Daemon-Ra for several years, but he was always unnerved when thinking of the enigmatic alien. Something was eerily familiar to him about the disdainful inflections in Daemon-Ra's voice, as if it were a memory of some life he had led centuries ago. He dismissed the thought. Better that he shouldn't have.
Sominus believed his plan would work. It was years in the making, and needed a few more years of preparation. He was the key to its success. Did he feel any remorse that he was going to betray them? He didn't think so... but there was this odd sensation deep within him, that he was going to make a terrible mistake.
...
En route to the End Point.
Caeleb Arvin's eyes widened. "I've never seen anything like that before."
Alone in his little ship, of course, he received no reply to his comment. It was just as well, he supposed. His reaction, he thought, was basically like everyone else's would be: shock, then acceptance. He was not thoroughly shocked, however, since he had really expected something like this to happen for quite awhile. While it was a tad unsettling to see Uxbridge so abruptly changing policy, he just took it as more SETH posturing. Had he not been thinking so fixedly on Uxbridge's announcement, he would have noticed the huge frigate that loomed over his ship. The voice of its commanding officer boomed inside the tiny cabin of his ship, taking on a tinny aspect. "Caeleb Arvin of the Department of Chronal Affairs: you are wanted for participating in the assassination of several SETH agents, and other related crimes. Power down your vessel and prepare to be taken aboard. You will comply or be destroyed."
...
The End Point.
The Director laid his head down on his desk. "Louis, you've lost your mind," he muttered.
When his argument with the Sovereign ended, he thought that SETH would be "business as usual." He didn't think that Uxbridge had taken anything he said to heart, that it was just another political debate, with no real impact on policy or the universe at large. Instead, he saw Uxbridge utterly circumvent the authority of the Council, and change policy of his own accord. Sarah Silver entered the Director's office, and sat down next to him. "I saw the transmission, Robert."
"Believe me, I'm as surprised as anyone else," he said truthfully. "I would never have expected that from him. He's playing a very dangerous game now... and I'm afraid that the Council is going to throw him out."
"He broke a lot of regulations and protocols... not to mention laws," Sarah said. "But isn't that the kind of conviction everyone should have? He was willing to sacrifice everything he had just so that he would be following his conscience."
Maxwell looked at her, and she saw the pure dread in his face. "What good is that sacrifice, if he has nothing to show for it? He's trying to martyr himself, Sarah. Maybe not literally, but at least in a symbolic sense. He is trying to look like a hero to the Originators... and he's gambling that they'll win whatever war comes out of this. Be it a literal war, or a war of wills, he's hoping the Originators triumph. Maybe I shouldn't have pushed so hard in trying to get him to do the right thing."
"You talked him into this? Robert, you should have known better than that..." she said, not angrily, but in a subtlely frustrated tone. "I am glad you stood up for your beliefs, but maybe you did push him a little too much... I know how overzealous you can get."
"No kidding... Damn it, now I feel like a world-class idiot. This is all my fault, Sarah. If the universe goes to war over this, even if Uxbridge was a catalyst, I am still ultimately responsible."
"It's not all your fault, Robert. Stop blaming yourself for everything. Stop blaming yourself for the Rift, stop blaming yourself for Caeleb not meeting your expectations, stop blaming yourself for getting us outlawed... the universe does not live and die by what you do. You are as guilty as Uxbridge of thinking you control everything and everyone."
"I know... I just can't help thinking that he's just doing this so that he can spit out a huge 'I told you so' when it's all over. He's been so separated from society... he'd led SETH for over a century... how can he possibly know how people will react to this decision? He'll be eaten alive... they'll kill him."
She looked into his eyes. Maxwell was deadly serious. He hardly ever took on such a grave demeanor. It frightened her. It frightened her to death.
--End Chapter Twenty-Two--
Chapter Twenty-Three
Part One: Eve and Amiel--Bound and Severed
49987 A.D. The End Point.
Solomon's eyes began to water, impending tears forming at the realization of everything he had hoped for. Yet, somehow it didn't feel as liberating as he had expected. Maybe he had become more cynical than he had thought. Amiel turned to him, puzzled. "I am not sure I understand what that was all about."
"That is because you are naive and stupid," Eve said degradingly.
"Eve," Solomon said, trying to keep his composure. "Don't talk to Amiel that way."
"He knows nothing of the way our universe works. He doesn't know how we have all suffered because of SETH," she claimed.
"And you wouldn't know much of it, either. You may have spent most of your early life on Darktropolis, but that doesn't mean you can tell us all that you are right and everyone else is wrong. And I don't appreciate you insulting Amiel."
"My father must have sent me here just to torture me," she said, crossing her arms. "You're all more childlike than I have ever been!"
"Be quiet and behave," Solomon said calmly but firmly. "Now, Amiel... what this means for you is that you are allowed to have children when you are ready. That is, if all goes well with what Uxbridge announced. You have more freedom of choice than all the previous generations of Originators did."
"Oh, okay," Amiel said. "So this is a good thing?"
"It's very good." Solomon decided against getting into the darker side of the matter... that there could be a civil war over Uxbridge's actions, that the Council may well try to overrule him, and even kill him. Amiel was twelve, and not especially mature for his age. He was sheltered and naive, and it pained Solomon to admit it. Eve was right... but he didn't want Amiel to know it. "Amiel, Eve... you two go find something to do on your own. I have some work to do here."
Eve grabbed Amiel's hand, and dragged him out of Solomon's quarters. Solomon pulled out a dataslip and began reading a transcript of what Uxbridge had said. It sounded rehearsed. But it was also guarded. Exactly how the Sovereign would pull off this plan was still a mystery, and he hoped that his people would not suffer for it.
Then the Director's voice burst into Solomon's quarters. "Solomon, Caeleb's been captured. I just got the word from one of my friends in SETH. We're calling a meeting."
"I'm on my way," Solomon said, putting the dataslip away.
Part Two: Retrieval
In the conference room on the End Point.
"This is big trouble," the Director said as Solomon sat down. Everyone else sat around the table as the Director began the meeting, and watched as he paced, thinking. "Caeleb has not been pardoned by Sovereign Uxbridge. One would think he'd do that, since he just overturned the Breeding Avowal, and since we were outlawed because we violated it... but it seems he's not willing to extend himself that far."
Rebekah Corbett spoke up. "There's not a lot Uxbridge can do... we all know he was acting without Council approval. If he tried to free Caeleb, it would just make his situation worse."
"So we have to get him out ourselves," Mordekai Stokes suggested. "I think we could easily raid a SETH ship for him. After all, you teach us better battle tactics than most of the SETH Forces know, right?"
The Director smiled slightly. "Maybe... but my tactics were from a more brutal time. They're considered barbaric in this era. Not that it really matters... since we're going to get Caeleb back one way or another."
"Just why do we have to get him back?" Nesting asked disdainfully.
"He is a member of the Department. I don't care what some of you may have against him... we all have our faults. That's no reason to let him die."
"He's right," Sarah Silver agreed. "SETH's information extraction methods are ferocious and cruel... and I don't think any of you would truly wish them on Caeleb."
"Adam, I want you to help Mordekai prepare the timeships. Load them up with as much weaponry as you can. I want to be ready for a raid on the ship that has Caeleb within twenty-four hours," the Director ordered.
"Which ship is it?" Stokes asked.
"The Dagger. It's a war cruiser... my favorite kind," the Director replied. "Great on speed, light on armor, mediocre weapons."
"Is that all, sir?" Nesting asked.
"Not quite. I want you to monitor all channels leaving the Dagger, and I want you to utilize whatever you can of their security grid. Tap their surveillance systems if you are able. It would be nice to know where they are keeping Caeleb, and exactly what they're doing to him. And one more thing... has anyone seen Arianna?"
"I passed her on the way to this meeting," Stokes said. "She said she'd be here a little late."
"'Late?'" the Director echoed. "That doesn't sound like Arianna..." He cybernetically interfaced with the security grid, and within an instant was able to locate her. "Dammit... she's taking a ship! She's already deactivated the station override controls, as well."
"We can't stop her?" Corbett asked.
"I am afraid not." The Director sighed as his daughter's ship blasted off from the End Point, and vanished into hyperspace. "She's gone."
He severed the computer link, and sat down. "I still want those ships ready. Let's just hope she gets herself captured, and not killed. And remember: we don't want a war with SETH... we just want Caeleb back."
As everyone left the conference room, the Director groaned. Today had just been one event after another... and none of them left him in particularly good spirits. When it rains... he thought.
--End Chapter Twenty-Three--
Chapter Twenty-Four
Part One: The Sovereign's Fall From Grace
49992 A.D. (the year of assassination). The Requiem.
Dead. That's the only way they wanted him. Louis Uxbridge looked at the bridge around him, remembering the crew that used to pilot this ship before he stole it five years ago. The Council was less than pleased at his decision to arbitrarily overturn the Breeding Avowal, and they had instantly sought his removal from office. It led to one assassination attempt after another, until he finally stole this, his own private ship. It was to be used when he had to take trips to other worlds, since it was the most elegant ship in the SETH Forces. The Requiem was designed to show the power and magnificence of SETH to those who would doubt. Now, Uxbridge was the doubter. His own people wanted him dead. The Council had, for the most part, used damage-control pretty effectively after ousting him. They declared that the Sovereign had been unfit to lead SETH for some time, and that his erratic behavior was enough to justify his removal. They stated that his anullment of the Breeding Avowal was utterly illegal, and it created an outrage among the Originators, so much so that they began sabotaging SETH installations, and many dropped out of sight. Strangely, the majority of the citizens of SETH said little about it. He hoped that they were simply too frightened to come forward against the government. The alternative was not something he wanted to contemplate. How far he had fallen, in such a short time.
He thought about the events just before he was kicked from office. A bizarre exodus from the Mrrapphian Penal Colony had prompted a SETH attack that ended in disaster. They had a new weapon, something so powerful that none of the SETH ships returned from the fight. The Relentless had arrived just in time to see the battle ended, and the other ships escape. He read Commander-in-Chief Landon's chilling report. He was blamed for the disaster. Then there was a prison break aboard the Dagger, as a member of the Department of Chronal affairs was abducted and freed. Things had spun out of control so rapidly, he never thought they would turn out the way they did. He was on the run, and his only hope were those that still--possibly--believed in him. The Department of Chronal Affairs, as he had heard it, was splintered. Rebekah Corbett, Adam Axleton, and Tyler Nesting were all captured, tried, and executed. Robert Maxwell, Sarah Silver, Arianna Maxwell, Caeleb Arvin, and Mordekai Stokes were still at large. They all still lived on the End Point, though the station's actual whereabouts could not be determined. He also heard reports that Solomon Kravitz was with them, even though Kravitz had been reported dead long ago. He chalked it up to one of Maxwell's deceptions... he knew the Director well enough, it seemed likely. He wondered if the Department had anything to do with the Originator attacks. He understood that a few cloning facilities had been taken over by Originators, and that they were cloning massive armies. He didn't want to be around when those armies finally struck.
Uxbridge sighed as he pondered how things had gone so terribly wrong. From the highest place of power in the universe, to the most vilified man alive. As his ship edged closer to the Nexus, he knew that, one way or another, he would meet his fate here. If the Department did not appear and rescue him, he would die in the Nexus. Either way was better than the life he had been suffering.
His ship drifted slowly into the Nexus, being jittered slightly by the temporal disruptions and spatial disturbances. He held on to the sides of his chair, waiting to be destroyed or saved. He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Ex-Sovereign Uxbridge, I presume?"
He turned around, and saw the Director, with his fist drawn back. It flew forward, into his face, and tossed him into slumberland.
Part Two: Caeleb's Orders
New Avalon.
"War! Let me see war!" the Radical proclaimed. SETH had made the strike that it had so boldly promised two years before. And SETH had definitely made good on the threat. A huge fleet hovered over his planet, and it was pummelling New Avalon. His fleet had been destroyed. He looked to Caeleb as they looked out over the city in New Avalon. "Before they destroy me, Caeleb... before war becomes the only thing New Avalon will ever have, I want you to do something for me."
"Just name it."
"Kill the Director."
"WHAT?" Caeleb fairly shouted, making his shock apparent. "I can't just... just KILL the Director!"
"You most certainly can. Let's face it... they don't like you. You left Rebekah behind, and she got killed. Nesting was captured because he went back to save you. Adam, the closest thing you had to a father, was killed without ever getting to see you become the confident man you are today. The Department can't get any more disappointed in you, can they?"
"But...Arianna... she still cares about me."
"She loves you blindly, Caeleb. That's not the same thing. You cannot have her. You can only have what I give you. And I give you freedom, if you perform this one wish. Here," he said, handing Caeleb a dataslip. "These are instructions for performing the assassination... as well as undoing the operations of the Department. If you somehow manage to keep Arianna in the dark, and she never finds out what you end up doing... then you'll have lost nothing, right?"
"Right. They all hate me... all but her. Don't they?"
"Yes, they do. Only I was able to show you what it truly means to belong, wasn't I?"
"I can't thank you enough for that."
"And I do have one small request after you complete this task. Do you recall the little 'plan' we devised concerning Rachel Ferguson?"
"I do."
"I want you to enact it. Plant the trigger."
"But... what about what happens to her family line?"
"Caeleb, you are questioning me again. Do not."
"I am sorry. I will do as you request."
"Then I shall send you back to the End Point. Good luck... this is the last time we shall ever meet."
Before Caeleb could utter a reply, the Radical was already teleporting him back home to the space station. Caeleb had his orders, and would carry them out. So eager for acceptance... acceptance that only the Radical could give him. He felt a bit guilty for so completely manipulating him. Well... almost.
--End Chapter Twenty-Four--
Chapter Twenty-Five
Part One: Uxbridge's New Allegiance
49992 A.D. The End Point.
"Just be glad you're alive," the Director said as Uxbridge came around.
"I am glad I'm still alive," Uxbridge responded.
"After all the problems you've caused, you're lucky you're not dead."
"I was listening to you at the time, remember?"
"I didn't tell you to just go around behind the Council's back, did I?"
"I suppose not..."
"Now, what did you want from me?"
"I have nowhere else to go, Robert. I would like to join you."
"We're still rogue. You sure you want to be part of that?"
"I have little left to lose. My children have been taken from me as it is... I am to be killed on sight."
"Sarah, what do you think?" the Director asked, turning to her.
"He at least deserves a chance."
"Looks like you get to live, then," the Director said to him.
"I appreciate that," Uxbridge replied.
"Our resources are at your disposal, Louis. But please don't try anything stupid... we have security protocols in place. And I really don't want to kill you."
"I understand."
"Good." The Director left the cargo bay that Uxbridge had regained consciousness in, and passed Arianna. "Ari, when will Caeleb be back?"
"He's still retrieving those temporal fuel cells from that Outworld colony you sent him to. He'll be back soon, I imagine," she answered, walking with him.
"Great. Let me know how the new cells work in the timepods...granted, we only have two left, but it would still be nice to see a performance improvement. Also, there is to be a meeting about the Rift in one week. We need to really discuss it, and see if we have any options left in dealing with it."
"All right. I'll see you later."
"Where are you going?" the Director asked as Arianna walked away.
She turned back and spoke. "I'm going to go wait for Caeleb."
"Very well. I hope he can at least accomplish this mission on his own. I'm tired of him not pulling his weight around here."
"I know, I know," she said in an annoyed tone as she became more distant.
Part Two: Within Reach
Sector 19913 of the Bryll Galaxy, in the Zin System. The ISC ship Clandestine.
Amsha Winters tapped her fingers idly as the ship continued its search. She had pulled a few favors with her old friends in the Internal Security Corporate, and they agreed to send a ship to help her in whatever it was she was searching for. While she was wanted by SETH, as well as expatriated, some still had loyalty to her. She was glad for that. Five years ago, she thought the head of the ISC would help her. He refused her request, and she had him killed. Unfortunately for her, it took that entire five years for her to get this opportunity again. The Gauntlets were probably still in this region, in the system's asteroid belt. The only problem was that she had no way of detecting them, aside from their ambient energy signature. Their composition was not known, but she believed that they gave off some amount of energy that could be characterized as "unusual." Those were the only parameters with which she had the ship search. An unusual energy source. They had been out here a month. Her friend in the ISC had promised her a year. She hoped it didn't take that long. She had waited twenty years to get this far... and she was not going to give up. If all went well, she could seize the Council and take control of SETH. Uxbridge was, of course, no longer a threat. Eric Komski, the Councillor from the Grett Megacluster (as well as her former proxy), became the new Sovereign. That certainly was a helpful situation. Komski had always held loyalty to her, and she would be able to use it against him when the time came.
As she looked at the sparse accommodations around her, she was startled by her intercom. "We've found something that might be what you're looking for," a voice came through it.
"Excellent!" she vocalized, and ran out the door, heading straight for the bridge.
Part Three: Inside
The End Point.
He had never intended to betray them. When his parents first brought him to the Department, he was accepted and raised alongside Arianna. They all treated him like a son. Then, when he became older, their disappointment was obvious. He had failed to achieve his potential sufficiently. He was devastated... they had lost all faith in him. By the time he was old enough to be an Operative, it was merely a courtesy. He had no real function within the DCA, and might as well never have been among them. Arianna was really the only thing that kept him there. She stood up for him, she loved him, and she tried to protect him from them. But she couldn't protect him from his own mind, the tortured thoughts of failure and self-deprecation that consumed every waking moment of his life. He told himself he was worthless, that he didn't try hard enough, that no one would ever like or respect him.
The Radical had shown him another way, another path he could take. While everyone in the Department expected Caeleb to do his best at everything, to meet his potential fully, the Radical was quite different. For the Radical expected nothing. He simply issued instructions. If those instructions were followed, then Caeleb lived. Failure was death. It was that simple. The Radical never spoke of "potential" and "doing your best." Caeleb simply did as he was told. And by that, he gained more self-respect than he ever thought possible. His thoughts still bothered him on occasion, but he had learned to control them better.
But the ultimate problem was what the Radical had demanded of him. Kill the Director. Disband the Department. How could he ever do that? He had already taken so much from them--albeit unwillingly. Tyler Nesting and Adam Axleton both died because of him. And he was resented for it. While they never spoke of it, nor directly blamed him, he knew that they all thought, because he believed it as well: Caeleb Arvin never amounted to anything, never did anything to prove what he was capable of, never sacrificed anything to attain a goal. He just stayed safe. He had needed safety. In the last year, no one in the Department had noticed the culmination of his transformation. The Radical had taken his safety away, slowly, over the past seven years. But it was only in the past year that he had truly become self-supportive, and capable of doing everything that he set his mind to. Now, he could kill. Just a week before, he had taken his first human life: a SETH spy on New Avalon that the Radical had him interrogate and execute. He enjoyed inflicting the pain, believing what the Radical always told him... that SETH spies were all nothing but cowards too afraid to face him as warriors. Fools that hid behind veiled identities. When he looked into the spy's eyes as he shot him, he felt nothing. No remorse, no hatred, and no pleasure. He had just... done it. The Radical had conditioned him to feel nothing, fear nothing, and want nothing. He was told it would make him invincible. He hoped it was true.
That's when his mind took him back to Arianna... the day she set out to free him five years ago. She was captured and locked up with him on the SETH ship Dagger. He learned on that day that she was willing to do anything for him. She would have even died just to see him safely out of danger. Now, he didn't really feel badly for not having the same feelings. He knew that she cared. He knew that she would do anything to protect him. But it seemed not to matter nearly as much as it used to. Part of him wondered if he was any better or worse for having been under the Radical's tutelage. He smiled, and decided he was definitely better for it. Not some whining, loathesome coward like he used to be.
Part Four: Appear, Strike, Vanish
A supply depot in the Notru Megacluster.
The Renegade strafed a frigate as it sped through the elaborate supply stop, deep within SETH space. A series of blasts ripped into the hull of a munitions container, and it exploded in a flash of white. Daemon-Ra's ship was knocked slightly off course, and it collided with a fuel tanker. The tanker detonated and showered the Renegade with sparks and shrapnel. Daemon-Ra smiled as his ship was barely damaged. "Those new shields are working splendidly," he said in appreciation to his Shi'Ar engineers.
Over a thousand Koraxian ships flooded the vast depot complex. They crashed through pylons and access tubes that connected each module in the expansive supply area, only minimally damaged as they sheared armor and hull plates from attacking ships. The human prisoners from the Mrrapphian Penal Colony had become crack shots since they began piloting the fleet five years ago, and Daemon-Ra was pleased with their performance. Every time they made a strike, they succeeded. Only eight ships had been lost in their five year campaign against SETH. Needless to say, those were very good statistics.
The dark space station that made up the control center of the depot complex launched salvo after salvo at the encroaching fleet, as its internal personnel made desperate pleas for help to SETH. Daemon-Ra laughed wickedly as he heard their pathetic cries. "They scream and beg so easily when they're faced with a superior force," he observed. "I'm going to enjoy killing every last one of them." Their distress calls were blocked and scattered, so SETH would not receive them. That was an advantage that Daemon-Ra always had... SETH never knew exactly who was hitting their outposts.
The Renegade veered toward the control center, and several hatches popped open on its forward hull section. Intimidating weapons poked out from the ports, and powered up. They fired simultaneously, and a blue beam tore into the front of the control center. Blue crackles of energy began covering the outside hull, and glowed brighter and brighter, until they burst open, tearing the control center to pieces. The energy was carried over to the rest of the complex, the Renegade crashing through the debris in a hail of energy and structural fragments. Explosions surged all throughout the complex, and Daemon-Ra's smile grew with each section that was destroyed. He sat back in his chair, sighing contentedly as the last part of the huge complex was annihilated. Some red and orange sparks here and there, and some small bits of debris were all that remained of the once looming and massive complex. Daemon-Ra and his fleet moved on... and SETH would once again be uncertain as to what fate the people here met.
--End Chapter Twenty-Five--
Chapter Twenty-Six
Part One: Settling in at Odds
49992 A.D. The End Point.
Louis Uxbridge settled quietly into his quarters, arranging the sparse furniture that he had been bestowed. He placed the bed right under the viewport, so that he would not be tempted to look out the window at the Nexus at night. He had heard it was quite often a distraction to those trying to sleep, its chaotic light patterns having a disquieting effect on the human psyche. The thermal blanket was adequate enough for warmth, but not quite the same as the elaborate cloths and fabrics he was treated to as Sovereign. Then again, it was a far sight better than the accommodations on board the Requiem. Even though it was his official, private ship (before he was ousted, that is), he never cared for the cramped spaces in which he was forced to live. Aside from the meager appointments, it was really quite a nice, spacious suite that the Department had placed him in. Two small terminals were to provide him with food and dataslips: one next to his bed, the other near his door. A shower room was directly to the right upon entry. He recalled that one of the most difficult problems of the (very) early space exploration programs was disposal of human waste. In fact, it was a problem up until about twenty thousand years ago, when the incredible "recycling" chip was introduced. Injected into the bloodstream at birth, it coordinated the recycling and re-utilization of waste products. Toilets and such were no longer necessary after about two hundred more years, since all who did not have the microchip had died by then. He wondered what it was like, back when things were a lot harder, and this exciting new technology was emerging. Certainly much more dirty. He resolved to think of something less unpleasant, when his door chimed.
"Come in," he said, pulling on the thermal blankets on his bed, trying to even them out.
The door slid open, and a woman stepped through. He didn't have the presence of mind to look up and see who it was, but just continued rearranging his blankets. He was hardly expecting to be kicked.
He gasped for air as his assailant kicked him, and he tried to shout. When he looked up and saw her face, it was the last person he had expected to see. He coughed, and uttered, "Landon!"
She stopped attacking him, and simply scowled down at him. "I should kill you, Louis. You cursed us all to this damned war...to all these wars that we are being faced with!"
"Which wars are those?" he asked indignantly.
"The Originators! The Radical! That fleet that's been terrorizing our outposts! It's all because you had to make an ethical statement!"
He coughed again, and sat up. "I've paid dearly for my actions, Emily. I don't know what more you expect from me."
"I wish you would die," she said coldly.
"That wouldn't do anyone any good, would it? I lost my position as Sovereign, I was to be tried for treason and executed... instead, I ran. And it seems that you lost everything, as well."
She sighed. "You don't know how many friends I have lost. The crew of the Relentless and I were the only people to survive the battle at Mrrapphia, and that was only because we showed up right as it was ending. If we had been hit with their weapon--whatever it is--we would have all been killed. As it turned out, I was one of only eight survivors from the Relentless after a battle in the Oolian Megacluster. Then I resigned, and the Director offered me a position here. A bit unusual, since he's a very wanted man... but I accepted, having nothing else going for me. And now I find you here, the same power-grabbing jackass you always were. Have you come to assassinate the Director or something?"
"No, I am here to start over. My children were all taken from me, and all refuse to even speak to me. I am wanted dead by many... most of SETH. I have nothing to live for. I would like you to give me a chance, Emily."
"You only get one chance with me, and you fucked it up. I never liked you as Sovereign in the first place... you let that Winters bitch run her own little agendas for too long, and by the time you acted, she already had what she was after. In fact, she's on a ship right now, somewhere out in Bolander, about to close in on whatever quarry she's been seeking."
"She is? I've waited years to find out what she was trying to find!"
"You're staying put. There's no way you're leaving this station unless I authorize it."
"The Director didn't make you--"
"--Chief of Security--"
"--did he? Dammit."
Landon smiled. "I think I've had my fill of you for today, Mr. Uxbridge. We're having a briefing on the Rift in a few days... if you actually give a damn about the universe, you might think about attending."
Uxbridge gazed at her as she left his room. He remembered the days when they were both a lot younger... the brief attraction that he had had for her, and the way in which she had rejected him. Somehow, it seemed that her animosity toward him always increased, with each of his subsequent transgressions. Silently, he vowed to set things right with her. Even if she had every right to hate him, he would prove that there was at least some part of him she could admire.
Part Two: The Rescue of Shawne Lesle, the Return of Jouko Lazar
A mining colony in the Rubis Megacluster.
"Dig faster," the magistrate demanded.
Shawne Lesle grunted under the force of the kick that was delivered to his lower back. From Councillor to slave-miner. Not quite a smooth transition. Since the day he was arrested on the vague charge of "conspiracy," his life had only gone downhill. Perhaps it had something to do with his status as an Originator. Because of all the Originator attacks in the last few years, and the standoff at Legeere Station, he assumed that was the problem. Hundreds of other Originators were quietly forced to mine the theramutium ore on this forsaken planet, inside a dense region of space. No one outside would give this planet a second thought... because everyone that inhabited it lived underground. Forced labor. It was certainly against the SETH Charter. Lesle had read the damned thing at least a hundred times when he was a Councillor. But what good were his rights if he had no one to stand up in his defense? The mutagenic effects of the ore would kill him soon, he hoped. It was better than living the rest of his life digging out this rock that was essential to the fuel systems of SETH spacecraft. He looked at the group of magistrates walking across the metal walkway which bridged the chasm leading to this area. This particular mineshaft was unstable, but had an extremely rich vein of theramutium in it. And it was the most pure vein that had been seen in quite some time. He recalled the times he had been made to escort shipments of the ore to the refining center a few kilometers away. The ore was crushed up by huge grinding wheels, and the rubble was poured into vats of hydrochloric acid. The acid reacted with the theramutium pebbles, causing them to form a complex crystalline pattern on the tops of the vats. That crystal structure was then sheared off and sent off-planet for further refinement. He had tried several times to get caught inside the massive scoop that lifted the crystals, to be carried up to a waiting transport. Every time, he was found and beaten severely for his attempted escape. He bore his scars with no sense of pride or achievement. While some wore them like badges of honor, he believed his were a shame to his heritage. His family line, every one of the clones that led down to him, maintained high and respectable positions in government for as long as he could trace back. He had betrayed his predecessors, and all of his people. Now he was paying the price.
As he used his mechanical chiseling tools to chip away the brittle rock, the mineshaft began to rumble. At first, he thought it was just another transport docking with the small facility on the surface. But the shaking didn't stop. The metal walkway, which was only ten meters to his left, was trembling violently. The magistrates took on a panicked look, and rushed across it, turning into the next shaft. He was alone with only one other Originator. "What do you suppose is going on?" Lesle asked. The woman turned her dirt-browned face to him, and replied softly, "They're here to save us."
"Who?" Lesle asked with astonishment. He hadn't heard of any planned raid on this mining facility. If he was about to be rescued, he felt at least a tad insulted that he wasn't informed beforehand. Of course, it wasn't as if he would refuse such an attempt.
"Jouko and the rest of the Originators. You heard that they took over Legeere Station, didn't you?"
"I did. So now they're here?"
"I heard that they were planning on exposing this facility and freeing all of us."
"I'm glad things are going to get better... at least, I hope they'll get better."
"They will. And I do recognize you, sir. It's an honor to meet Shawne Lesle."
"For a moment, I wasn't sure if you were going to honor me or beat the daylights out of me."
"Why would I do the latter?"
"Some Originators don't like me because I had a fairly easy life in the SETH government. Granted, I didn't have the roughest life of all Originators... but it wasn't especially pleasant, either."
The woman smiled. "You've survived more assassination attempts than any other SETH official. That must count for something."
"Then let's hope my good fortune carries over to everyone else here."
They heard distant explosions, the sounds of phase rifles ripping through the air. Forcefields flashed into existence to reinforce the rock walls and ceilings of the mines. Lesle tentatively stepped onto the metal walkway, and tried to resist the urge to look down. As his female companion joined him, he gave in to his curiosity, and peered over the edge of the walkway. Kilometers below was the boiling mantle of the planet. He had not seen that before. There was usually just a bed of old rock from when that particular section collapsed a few years back. But the magma was not what worried him. What had him concerned was that it was rising.
"Listen, miss--"
"My name is Liane."
"Liane...that magma is rising very quickly. It's going to hit this section very soon."
She knew what he was thinking. At the same moment, they both ran across the walkway to the other side, leaving that section of the mine behind. But the earth was still trembling, and the sounds of weapons fire were getting closer and closer. At the end of the tunnel before them, it veered off to the left, where the shots seemed to be originating. A group of magistrates fell backward into the tunnel, grunting in pain from their wounds. Someone--not a magistrate--peered around the corner of the tunnel, and his eyes widened at the sight of Lesle running toward him. He stepped out in front of Lesle, and pointed his weapon. "Stop."
Shawne and Liane both halted. "Are you here to rescue us?" Liane asked.
"What kind of question is that?" came a voice from the nearby tunnel. Lesle smiled as he recognized it. Jouko Lazar stepped into view, and looked at his friend. "It's good to see you again, Shawne... but it's obvious you're not in the best of health."
"There's..." Lesle tried to catch his breath. "Magma...get out!..."
"Oh, I remember that now," Jouko said. He grabbed Lesle's hand and pulled him around the corner, and did the same for Liane. They both had to step over the bodies of the magistrates, and Liane barely managed to resist her impulse to kick the wretched corpses. "We'll have to walk briskly to get out of the way of the rising magma. I've got a platform waiting for us at the end of this tunnel," Jouko said.
As they walked quickly, Lesle watched as he passed the junctions to all the tunnels he usually worked in. As they passed the last one, the man who had come with Jouko cried out. He had been shot by a magistrate. Jouko turned and scowled, and fired his weapon with pinpoint accuracy, killing the magistrate. He could mourn for his lost comrade later. Right now, he had to save these two people.
The tunnel was dark in front of them, but Lesle turned back and saw what was coming. "Hurry! It's coming!" he shouted, not being able to think of anything better. The magma was rushing toward them, its heat illuminating the cavernous walls.
"Just a bit farther," Jouko promised, walking faster. He stopped as a beam of light shone down on him from above. "Both of you, get on either side of me." Lesle and Liane complied, and stood around Jouko. The magma was closer than ever, just twenty meters away. Now fifteen. They began to rise into the air. Ten meters. Halfway up. Five meters. Just a little farther. Four. Still not far enough! Three. Almost there! Two meters. Not quite! One. The magma splashed only against the bottom of their rising platform, and they let out a collective sigh. That is, Liane and Lesle did. Jouko was not at all worried. "Believe it or not, I had that timed down to the last second. We are also not yet out of danger... that magma is going to continue building pressure until this entire mining complex blows."
"Did everyone else get out?" Lesle asked.
"Yeah, they're out already. Our scanners indicated that you two were down in that part of the complex, which isn't often used. I'm glad I got to you before the magma did."
"I think I'm glad, too," Lesle agreed.
As the platform rose, the white light intensified, and Lesle realized that they were being lifted into a ship. The platform joined with the interior of the ship, and their eyes adjusted to the darkness within. "We had to run on low power to minimize our detection potential," Jouko explained. "Come with me to the bridge, and we'll be out of here any second."
The ship took off as Jouko and his two comrades made they way to the bridge of the ship. As they walked, Jouko explained what happened. "We dug some mine shafts of our own, directly into the core of the planet. We dropped some old-fashioned thermonuclear warheads into it, and they detonated one at a time. It set off seismic events throughout the core and mantle, and they were dispersed even as far up as the lower crust. The pressure had to be released somehow, and that was through the sudden magma eruptions. I'm sorry I nearly got you two killed."
"Under the circumstances, I can't say I mind," Liane said.
"Keep that sense of humor," Jouko replied, smiling in mild amusement.
"So where are we going?" Shawne asked.
"Where are we going? We're going to meet up with destiny, Shawne. And destiny's name is Daemon-Ra."
--End Chapter Twenty-Six--
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Part One: Sominus' Betrayal
49992 A.D. Darktropolis.
The Starfire Club stood before the Control, having answered his Calling. He simply sat in the light of the giant clock face, still drenched in blackness. Sominus clutched the Koraxian mindblank in his palm. He had been growing increasingly paranoid lately, and often found himself pondering using the device. He knew that it was only good for one use... and he would have to make it count. He had possessed the device for twenty years... he could wait as long as was necessary. So he waited silently for their leader to speak.
The Control stood, and walked toward Flashfire. The Stokes triplet that had never been given a first name looked up at the King of the Starfire Club, and felt fear. The Control reached out his hand, and Flashfire rose into the air. The others tensed as Flashfire glared at the Control. They weren't certain what was about to happen, but they knew it would not be to their advantage.
"You will not Ascend," the Control said succinctly. Flashfire screamed as he was thrown into the clock face, and shattered it. His screams faded as he fell twenty stories down, and silence once again fell upon them.
Sominus rolled the mindblank in his palm. It was time for him to act. He walked up behind the control, and held the device up to the back of the Control's head. A laugh emanated from the King as Sominus activated the mindblank. Sominus cried out as he vanished in a pink flash, and the Control's laughing grew. "Do others walk the path of Sominus?" the Control asked the rest of them.
Arcturus, Galen, and the Risen all shook their heads. They had once been willing to follow Sominus. But now they were without him, and they wouldn't stand a ghost of a chance against the Control. A chill swept across them as they were sent away. They left the room with many questions. What had happened to Sominus? Why had the Control killed Flashfire? They were never to find out... and perhaps that was best for them.
...
Sominus screamed in rage as he floated in the trackless abyss that surrounded him. Something had happened... something he had not anticipated. He had no focus for his rage... for he did not know who had caused this. An image of Daemon-Ra appeared to him... and offered a focus for his rage.
"If you're seeing this, Sominus, then you used the mindblank," the image began. "Your body has been destroyed. You are now on what is called the astral plane. You will be trapped here forever. I'd apologize for betraying you like this... but that wouldn't be very sincere, would it? I hope you enjoy being alone. I doubt anyone will visit your corner of the astral plane... I had my Koraxian engineer make sure of that. So long! Oh, and thank you for all the numerous favors you performed for us... they were greatly appreciated."
The image decayed and vanished, and the anger in Sominus rose. He clutched his fists and screamed, his voice echoing throughout the vast darkness of the astral plane.
Part Two: Winters' Success
The Zin System. Asteroid 3135.
Amsha Winters walked along the asteroid's surface, gradually drawing closer to the readings that her dataslip was feeding her. An ambient energy source was directly ahead, about two hundred meters away. The Clandestine orbited above her, waiting for her to communicate with them again. She had demanded to be allowed to go to the asteroid's surface alone, and the permission was reluctantly granted. She was glad that the Clandestine was on detached duty... it meant SETH would not wonder where their ship had gone at least for a few more weeks. If anyone in the Council found out that they were aiding her, an enemy of SETH, the entire crew of the Clandestine would probably be executed.
Her body was surrounded by an energy field provided by her dataslip. An artificial atmosphere was generated around her, constantly keeping a supply of oxygen with the proper mix of nitrogen and other gases. Her footsteps were not audible, since there was no atmosphere down by her feet. The dead silence was disquieting, and she muttered to herself to at least be able to hear something. She briefly wondered how the Radical was doing, holding off the hordes of the SETH Forces Spacefleet. She had terminated her relationship with him after he had made her pact with him public. She could never forgive him for that... he had cost her her Councillorship, her career, and even her citizenship in SETH. If all went well, she would go back to New Avalon with the Gauntlets and kill the Radical slowly and tortuously.
Ten meters. She saw a faint blue glow not too far ahead of her. She moved closer and closer, and eventually reached the source. Two metal gauntlets lay before her, embedded in the dust of the asteroid's surface. But the blue glow was coming from a figure that stood like a man. It had empty eyes, and wore ragged clothes of pale blue, nearly white. Its skin was sapphire, and its presence frightened her. It didn't speak, nor did it move. Its raiments simply flapped in some invisible wind, as it stared at her with its hollow eyes.
Could it be the Hellion? she asked herself. The Radical had told her of the Gauntlets' suppose guardian. She had also heard stories of it during her career in the SETH Forces. She had never considered the notion that the Hellion truly existed. Keeping her eyes fixed on the figure before her, she knelt in front of the Gauntlets. She reached out her hands to them, and paused. The apparition lifted from the surface of the asteroid, and quickly moved upward. She sighed, and looked down at the Gauntlets. At least the ghostly image was gone... now she could concentrate on her discovery. As her hands neared the Gauntlets, she felt a tingling sensation. Suddenly, they leapt from the soil and clasped around her wrists. She cried out, stiffening her arms, as a flash of pain raced through her. But then it subsided. The Gauntlets were hers!
Then a bright flash caught her eyes. She looked up. Where once had been the Clandestine, now there was a large explosion. Its force slammed her down onto the asteroid's soft soil, and she grunted. Debris crashed around her, but none of it struck her. After it was over, she rolled onto her back and looked up. A glimmer of blue light was hovering far above the surface, the same solemn figure that had stood in front of her mere moments before.
The Hellion had obliterated the Clandestine.
Now, she was trapped on this asteroid, in the middle of an unpopulated system. Her dataslip had been destroyed in the explosion. She had waited years and years, sacrificed everything for this single goal. Now, she had achieved it. But she would never leave this asteroid. The Gauntlets would keep her alive... but she would never be able to leave.
Part Three: Morph's Fall
Earth.
He spun around in the ornate chair, laughing wildly. His hands whipped across the desk, sending dataslips and pictures crashing to the floor. His fingers danced across the console that controlled his window view, cycling through every vista available. Morph was the Sovereign of SETH!
He had met Sovereign Komski just a few weeks before, the Sovereign having been looking over the Mrrapphian Penal Colony. It had been reported as being deserted several years before... but no one was aware that Morph had remained there. He kidnapped and killed Komski, and posed as the deceased Sovereign. No one was the wiser.
His first action had been to enact an assault on New Avalon. SETH records indicated that Komski had threatened the Radical's planet two years before, so his actions wouldn't have been considered unusual. But he had to keep a close eye on his own behavior... he needed to maintain the sort of discipline and distinction that a Sovereign was supposed to have.
Still he laughed and carried on as he destroyed the office.
Pictures of all the previous Sovereigns were along the wall of the office. He shoved them all down, listening to their glass frames shatter and break. His bare feet were cut on the glass, and he only laughed louder. Both Radicals, past and present, had used him. The Radical and New Avalon would suffer for it. And SETH would suffer, as well. He ripped the figure of the bald eagle from the top of the large chair, and threw it into the window-viewscreen. It fragmented, though the screen was undamaged. He took a sword that was hanging on one of the walls, and slashed the walls with it. Its weight caused him to falter, and he stumbled to the ground, cutting his skin on the fragments of broken glass.
And still he laughed.
His door opened. It was Radden, that annoying little aide that always came in at the most inconvenient times. All he could do was laugh as he plunged the sword into his own chest, as Radden looked on in horror as the man he thought was the Sovereign of SETH died.
--End Chapter Twenty-Seven--
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Part One: Full Circle
49992 A.D. New Avalon.
While the SETH fighter craft shot across the sky, blanketing New Avalon in fire and chaos, the Radical walked through the burning streets of the main city on the surface. The city itself was called New Avalon, of course, and he was surprised that he felt no sadness in witnessing its destruction. He had been raised here, born here. He had friends here. But now, they were all dead. He just hoped that the one he was seeking had not yet succumbed to SETH's battering.
Thurston Stokes turned to face his mentor as the latter approached. "You know, don't you?" Thurston asked pointedly.
"You will not Ascend," the Radical answered, with an air of disappointment. He drew his phase pistol, and aimed it for Stokes.
Thurston smiled. "I knew you'd come to kill me... and so I was prepared." In his hand, he held a blue cube. The Radical recognized it as a medinium derivative, an extremely powerful explosive. "Now you're regretting those applied chemistry courses I had to go through, aren't you?"
"It doesn't matter to me. This is my predecessor's error, not mine."
"Go ahead and shoot me. When the medinium hits the ground, it will explode. It will take what's left of New Avalon with it."
"Then drop it, Thurston. I won't stop you."
As the buildings around them burned and crumbled, they stared at each other. One was a pawn from birth, taken from a mother he never knew, who learned of two physically identical copies of himself. He had once heard that there were meant to be four, and that the Radical had had one of them terminated. It didn't matter to him whether or not it was true. What mattered was that he could, at this moment, destroy New Avalon, and everything that was a source for his suffering.
The Radical calmly observed his protege, wondering if Thurston was capable of doing as he had threatened. He didn't care if New Avalon was destroyed. He had failed in his attempts to subvert SETH, and it was likely that he would be captured, and probably killed. That is, if he survived Thurston Stokes first. His weapon was still pointed at the failed Ascended One, and his finger slid dangerously along the trigger key. "Do you have anything left to say to me, Thurston?" the Radical asked.
"Actually, I do. I always hated you. You never treated me like a human being. I was just supposed to Ascend, do whatever you told me, and it didn't matter how I felt about any of it. And it looks like you didn't get what you wanted, anyway. I hope you have fun waiting another nine hundred or so years to be reincarnated again." The blue cube slipped from his fingers, tumbling through the air. They both eyed it as it slid downward, spinning, coming closer and closer to detonation. Their eyes locked in the instant before it struck, and they both knew that it was destined to end this way. All the Radical's plans, and all of Thurstons fears, they all amounted to this moment. As the inferno ripped through New Avalon, destroying what little was left of the city, the planet itself was shining like a star, proudly defying the will of SETH.
Part Two: Trapped in Destiny
The End Point.
Amiel's hands held Eve's as they looked into each other's eyes. Only five short years since they had met. She had destroyed his sheltered existence, introducing him to everything that his guardians in the Department of Chronal Affairs had hoped to shield him from. He had easily fallen victim to her charms, and he was almost entirely under her control. But none of them had ever perceived it. It was hidden from them, just as her true motivations always were. They had taken her in and tried to change her ways, and thought they had succeeded. Gone, they thought, was the corrupted, tortured girl that had been dropped into their fold. She had secretly learned to manipulate her powers, and alter the perceptions of others, a capacity that had been bestowed upon her by her father. And the thing that fueled her the most was Amiel's constant urge to be with her, to be possessed and controlled by her. She was only too willing to oblige his wishes.
As she lay on top of him on the floor, she wondered if Amiel knew anything of what was going to happen. The day of Ascension would be upon them soon, and she knew what role he would play. She had often considered telling him the things that she knew concerning the future, those things passed to her by the Control... but could never utter the accursed words. He continued to live in his perpetual state of happiness, reveling in her company in as many waking hours as possible, and she felt more and more pity for him. He would have to fulfill his role, if Mordekai Stokes were to Ascend. She had already fulfilled part of her own destiny. She offered to take Mordekai to Darktropolis. He had considered the offer, and refused it. Perhaps, after he Ascended, he would think differently.
"What is it?" Amiel asked, noticing the distant look in Eve's eyes.
"It's...nothing. I was just thinking."
"About what?" he pursued, showing a bit of concern.
"You'll know in a few days, Amiel," she replied.
He mistook her meaning. "You're going to surprise me with something? That's great!" he said, holding her more tightly.
She hoped that Amiel's naivete wouldn't get all of them killed.
Part Three: Caeleb's Justification
Elsewhere in the End Point.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Arianna asked, crossing her arms.
Caeleb stepped down from the elevated platform that he had been standing on, and looked at her blankly. "What do you mean?"
"I'd been wondering when you would get back. I didn't notice your ship arriving... and I certainly haven't seen you around. So when did you get back, and why did you not tell anyone?"
"I've been back for a day or two... I did what I was supposed to. I got the power cells. I lost my ship in the process... so stop interrogating me. I had to use my tether to get back to the station. Are you satisfied?"
"You could have said that you were back... you could have told someone about it." The way she used the word "someone," he knew that she was referring to herself. He cringed.
"I don't think I should have to tell you where I am all the time, Ari. I have work to do around here, and I don't need this distraction right now."
"Suit yourself, then. Remember the meeting in two days. If you want to talk to me in the meantime, you know where to find me." She walked away, and he stepped back onto the platform. He sighed as he continued his work on the circuitry of the hyperbolic dissociative matrix. He was following the Radical's schematics, setting the rings of the station to detonate themselves. He knew he had offended Arianna... that much was apparent by the way she spoke to him. But he would have had a difficult time explaining that his ship was back at New Avalon, and that he had no way to leave except by letting the Radical teleport him back here. In his hand was the dataslip that the Radical had given him. On it was the face of Robert Maxwell. But it wasn't Arianna's father. The Radical had revealed a thing or two to him. One of the strangest of those items was that Arianna was actually from the 21st Century, orphaned by a sudden eruption of her powers at the age of five. He didn't question the Radical's information. While it was certain that Arianna was a genetic descendant of the Director, it didn't mean that he was actually her father. He also understood why this fact had been supressed. SETH would not have taken kindly to the Director suddenly bringing a child from the past into this time to raise as his own.
What bothered Caeleb more was how easily everyone was tricked by the Director's deceptions. SETH didn't know about Arianna's true heritage. Solomon's continued existence had also been kept secret. The Director had killed SETH troops in order to "save" Amiel Kravitz. They traveled the timestream in the name of the future, as if to say that they had more of a right to exist than anyone else did. He had become disillusioned with the Department itself, and was finally justifying his allegiance to the Radical. The Radical was straightforward with him, always. The Director gave him lies. Arianna was just her "father"'s puppet. Solomon was the Director's lapdog. Sarah Silver? Another blind follower. They would all deserve what they received. They had stopped believing in his potential long ago. Now that he had achieved the confidence he had always wanted, he would show them what a mistake it was for them to give up on him.
Part Four: Prelude to SETH's Destruction
In orbit around Legeere Station.
Shawne Lesle was amused to learn that this ship was the Extreme Prejudice, the very ship that he had commanded when he was a Councillor. Jouko explained that it had been decommissioned after Lesle's arrest and sentencing, and that it was located in an abandoned shipyard. It was surprisingly undamaged, and so Jouko adopted it to his cause. Lesle and his companion, Liane, were both made a bit uncomfortable by the crew of Jouko's ship. They were all fully-grown clones of Jouko himself. He had told them that when he and a pack of other Originators took over Legeere Station, they found a way to accelerate the growth rate of the clone embryos, and actually make them into adults in a matter of hours. It took a great deal of neurological science, however, to mimic that level of mental development. Jouko had used his own engrams as a template for those of his clones. A way had been discovered to cultivate knowledge in the new clones, and they had an incredible thirst for learning. In a matter of days, each clone would consume all three hundred and six volumes of the Encyclopedia Terra, and continued to want more. While Lesle found humor in the idea, he was still made uneasy by the presence of so many duplicates of Jouko.
"Really, Shawne, you shouldn't worry about it. I am wearing the red armband. The clones wear blue ones. That's how I set myself apart. And besides... none of them will hurt you. They're all as sociable as I am," Jouko promised.
"Be that as it may, I wouldn't want to be alone with them," Lesle replied. Liane nodded in agreement.
"You worked for SETH way too long, didn't you? They've made you into a raving paranoid," Jouko said, slapping his shoulder.
"Yes, well, that paranoia has kept me alive. Are we going to meet your new allies now?"
"Definitely. They're already inside the station."
Shawne Lesle, Jouko Lazar, and Liane all departed the Extreme Prejudice for the station. As they proceeded through each corridor, Lesle felt his apprehension growing. Daemon-Ra was a name that sounded vaguely familiar to him.
Jouko continued to assure Shawne and Liane that everything was fine while they got closer to their rendesvous. As they entered the main cloning center, they all noticed a tall man with his back to them. They all suspected that this was their mysterious ally. Jouko was about to utter a greeting when the stranger turned around and fired a weapon directly into Jouko's chest. Jouko coughed and gasped, looking more shocked than frightened, as Daemon-Ra stepped over to him. "I've heard so much about you, Mr. Lazar. Unfortunately, what I have heard indicates that you are a stubborn, trying man. I do not work well with individuals of that sort. I truly appreciate you bringing ex-Councillor Lesle, however. And, it seems, an attractive female companion."
Jouko tried to speak, and Daemon-Ra fired at him again. Jouko made no more sound. Daemon-Ra walked over to Shawne and Liane, and both stepped back. "I had nothing to do with this," Lesle said. "I--"
"Shut up, Mr. Lesle. I know that you have been working with Jouko for years as part of some underground Originator-rights movement. It is truly meaningless to me. I simply require the use of some of your ships. I understand that Jouko maintained his safety by using SETH vessels, and mimicking their transponder frequencies to match those of other, 'legitimate,' vessels. It is techniques such as those that bring me to Legeere. I do have a question, however."
"What?" Lesle asked, trying to hide the fear in his voice.
"Why is it that SETH has not tried to retake this facility?"
"They have... but they can't commit a very large force to it, because it would attract the press."
"And, in attracting the press, they would inadvertently draw attention to the 'suffering' of the Originators, correct?" Daemon-Ra's words stung as they fell upon Lesle's ears. This man was far more bitter than he thought anyone could be.
"They didn't want to make it known that there were dissidents so dangerous as to take a cloning facility. SETH set up a communications-dampening field around this system to keep it a secret, as well. And in case you're wondering, Jouko told me all this."
"I had already assumed as much. What he wanted from me were ships and technology. However, I propose something more. What would you say if I asked you to join me? We combine our fleets... yours and mine... use the cloning technology to build an army... and destroy the government that has oppressed us all. In the end, we will split everything equally. Does that sound equitable?"
"It sounds... perfect," Lesle said, and reached out to shake Daemon-Ra's hand. As their hands clutched, the fate of SETH was sealed, and the universe would change forever.
--End Chapter Twenty-Eight--
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Part One: The Assassination
49992 A.D. The End Point.
One hour until assassination.
Caeleb Arvin felt no fear on that day. All the things he had been afraid of as a child had already come true. Everything he had ever feared was reality, and he was forced to adjust. He was disliked by those that had once taken care of him. He wondered if his own attitude had caused that. They always assumed that he just did not care if he someday became more than he had always been. But he cared greatly.
The Radical helped him learn to respect himself and his own abilities. And on this day, he would reach the climax of his personal evolution. He would destroy the Department. He had already sent a communique to Earth, indicating that the End Point was prepared to surrender. SETH would hail him as the man that took down the Department and the nefarious Robert Maxwell. At least, that's how he imagined it would happen. The reality would be far more grim.
The members of the Department walked into the conference room. Caeleb was always the earliest. Then came Arianna, who sat next to him. She simply smiled. Obviously, her anger with him had passed. It caused him a momentary frown. He quickly corrected his expression, trying not to let her bother him. After that, Mordekai Stokes entered. He was looking as confident today as he always did, and took his seat on the opposite side of Arianna. Eve and Amiel were the next to arrive, and they sat on the other side of the table. Sarah Silver and the Director then entered, Silver sitting near the head of the table, and Maxwell at the head itself. Solomon sat next to the Director, on the side opposite Silver. Uxbridge and Landon were the last to appear. Uxbridge's eyebrows raised as he saw Solomon (whom he had thought was dead), but he didn't ask. The Director always had ways of fooling SETH, he had learned. The two of them sat next to Amiel and Eve, and the Director stood to begin the meeting.
Forty-five minutes until assassination.
"As most of you already know, this meeting concerns the Rift. For the sake of Mr. Uxbridge, I'll explain exactly what it is. It's what we call a Level Zero temporal disruption. It is basically the end-all be-all of destructive temporal events. It crosses over individual timelines, wiping out entire galaxies, erasing civilizations, altering history... and the effects are apparent, even in this timeline. The chronal holes that have appeared in numerous locations and have swallowed up planets and stars are the result of the Rift. Thanks to our intervention, we have slowed it down. But our so-called repairs are only temporary measures. The actual method for dispersing the Rift and reversing its damage had yet to be discovered. I believe that the temporal core on my ship, Paradise Lost, might be useful. Unfortunately, the ship is still in the timestream... and it can't exit, because of the Rift itself. We will regain contact eventually, but there is no way to know when. Also, keep in mind that any more Level One temporal events could accelerate the Rift to this point in time, destroying everything it encounters. There is a physical manifestation of the Rift, which is shown as a ribbon of energy. It spans about twenty years at a time, and consumes everything in its surroundings. Any attempt to actually stop the Rift would have to be made inside the Rift itself. Now, I believe Arianna has prepared a plan for a direct assault on the Rift."
Arianna acknowledged her father, and stood. "It is not generally known, but there are two other timeships much like the one possessed by my father. Both are controlled by alternate versions of him. One is Inferno, which belongs to the Robert Maxwell living in the 20th Century. The other is Hyperion, which is the property of Thomas Maxwell. Thomas, while in possession of the ship, lived in the 21st Century. If we had all three vessels, it could be possible to collapse the Rift from the inside. The difficulty is in the temporal cores. SETH timeships do not use the same fuel source, nor do they operate the same way. These timeships are ancient, and their technology cannot be replicated. It would also be difficult for us to persuade these Maxwells to relinquish control of their ships."
Uxbridge spoke up. "You didn't tell me that there were more of you running around, Robert. Can't you just ask them to lend you the ships? If the Rift is really as serious as you say, they should be eager to help."
"Well," the Director began, "I don't get along with them very well. And the fact that the ships could be destroyed in the process doesn't help matters. As I said before, this is just a proposal that Arianna has submitted."
"When will the Rift strike our time, according to your current projections?" Eve asked.
"In about fifty years or so. All we're doing is buying time. And frankly, that's just not good enough. If SETH," he said, glaring at Uxbridge, "gave a flying fuck about anything but their pocketbooks, this wouldn't be a problem. But they refuse to recognize a threat that may well be a generation away."
"This isn't my fault," Uxbridge rebutted. "I listened to you every time you said something needed to be done about the Rift. I spoke to the rest of the Council, and tried to get them to budget the Department with additional funds... but it hardly ever worked out. Besides, you are the one that made this organization rogue."
"And just who was it that ruined his political career by breaking SETH protocol regarding legislation?" the Director asked. "You're more of a fugitive than we are, Louey."
"Don't call me 'Louey.'"
"Can we get back to serious business, please?" Sarah Silver asked, folding her hands. "You boys can meet after school and punch each other's lights out if you want."
Uxbridge pointed at the Director, and gave a sarcastic "He started it!"
Amiel and Eve chuckled, while Caeleb simply crossed his arms. Arianna rolled her eyes, and Mordekai was looking over the next item on the meeting agenda. Solomon appeared to be resting his eyes, until Maxwell elbowed him. Landon was grumbling about something, as the Director brought the meeting back to order.
Thirty minutes until assassination.
"I received word today that the Sovereign of SETH has died," the Director said solemnly. "Eric Komski apparently killed himself using a sword formerly owned by Sovereign Tachibana Hiro. Komski had not been in power very long... I find it odd that he would have killed himself. I just thought I would mention it."
Landon grimaced. "I don't know what's going on with SETH anymore. They abide people like Winters for years and years, and force out those who try to change things."
"It's not as simple as that," Mordekai said. "I sympathize with what they have to deal with. They have millennia of history behind them, and they believe that they are right, and that things must stay the same to maintain order. I can't say their recent 'changes' have been at all comforting, but at least they are trying new things."
"They've sanctioned the murder of all Originators," the Director said. "That's not a good thing, you know. Actually, I'd be glad if the Originators manage to take down SETH. I understand that they've held Legeere Station for a few years now, and that they have obtained a fleet of old SETH craft. I would also like to add that we will aid them, if and when it is necessary."
"But they're enemies of SETH!" Uxbridge exclaimed. "It's treason to aid them!"
"We're already traitors," Maxwell said. "Try to remember that. And remember that we are right in what we are doing. SETH is wrong."
"Caeleb," Sarah said. "Is there some reason you're not speaking? Is something bothering you?"
"Hmm..? Oh, no. Nothing's bothering me," Caeleb replied half-convincingly. She gave him a worried glance, and so did Arianna.
"On to other matters," the Director said. "New Avalon has been utterly destroyed."
Caeleb's eyes shot wide open, and he almost stood up, almost shouted, almost cried out for revenge. But that would be giving himself away. His heart was beating quickly in his chest, and he wanted it to slow down. He had to calm himself. But New Avalon... it had been destroyed! When the Radical sent him off last time, the planet was under attack... but he didn't think it was serious. Now, he regretted leaving. What did it matter if he accomplished his destruction of the Department now? He had no mentor, no leader to take pride in him for his achievement. But this was all he had left of the Radical.
Fifteen minutes until assassination.
For the next several minutes, the Director relayed the details of New Avalon's destruction. It seemed that an explosive of unknown origin exploded on the planet's surface, annihilating everything around it. The colony was destroyed completely. The only survivors were the Avalonians that had been taken prisoner already. The tide welled in Caeleb's eyes as he listened to the words, and envisioned the devastation on New Avalon. He had even made friends there, while working with the Radical. His thoughts twisted and turned, and he became even more set on destroying the Department. Then he would fulfill the mission that the Radical had given him concerning Rachel Ferguson. He would take his place in history, as the creator of the Ebon Death. The thought made him shiver. He was actually destined to go back and create the Ebon Death virus in the year 8403. Ferguson's DNA was the key. But first, he had to wait for the detonation of the rings around the End Point. It wasn't much longer, he reminded himself.
"Hmmm..." the Director said, looking at another news item. "It says that a mining colony in the Rubis Megacluster was destroyed by seismic upheaval last week. SETH is currently investigating the cause. That's funny... I never heard of a mining operation on that planet. And with the amount of theramutium ore that the report says comes from it, you'd think I would know about it."
"Let me see," Uxbridge said. Maxwell piped the information to the display in front of Uxbridge. "That's an Originator forced-labor colony. That's why you've never heard of it," he said flatly.
"And you knew that it was forced labor?" the Director asked.
"I did... but there wasn't anything I could do about it. It was classified information. And the identities of the workers are still classified, I would imagine."
"The news brief also says that no survivors have been recovered, but that a ship did leave just before the planet was destroyed. The ship was using a SETH transponder frequency."
"It may have just been a mining ship," Uxbridge said.
"Looks like we'll have to keep an eye on that situation... it sounds very suspicious."
Suddenly, the station began to rumble. Then there was an earsplitting crash. If any of them could have seen the outside of the station, they would have been awed. One by one, small explosives exploded along the rings that protected the station. As they spun around and around, they splintered and crashed into one another, tearing into the End Point's hull, exposing its innards to vacuum. Temporal energy was released, and yellow streaks of fire raced from the station into the Nexus, yanking more and more power from the End Point. The station's orbit began to decay, and it trembled violently.
Inside the station, alarms blared. Everyone was on the floor, recovering from a jarring reorientation of the space station. The Director was the first to ask, "What in the name of hell is going on?!"
Caeleb reached for his own phase pistol, and tried to aim it. Everyone looked at him as they started to stand. "Caeleb!" Arianna shouted. "What are you doing?!" Before waiting for a reply, she dove for his legs, trying to take him down. He tried to push her off, and she fought him. He pushed the nozzle of the weapon into her chest, and looked her directly in the eyes. "Do it, Caeleb," she said. "Kill me, if that's what you want to do."
His mouth went dry and his eyes watered as he fingered the trigger. This wasn't part of his plan. He wanted Arianna unconscious during the entire ordeal, so that she would never know what he had done. Now, she was fully aware that he intended to kill someone. He suppressed a sob as he fired. She was forced off of him, and crashed to the ground.
But she was unharmed.
She put her hand over the place where he had shot her. It glowed blue. It was not bleeding, it was not scorched. It was simply glowing.
While he looked at her, Mordekai come up behind him, and tried to grab his weapon. It struck Stokes across the face, but Caeleb's ankles were gripped by Sarah Silver. Solomon and Maxwell both approached Caeleb, and then the fateful shot was fired. It plowed into the Director's chest, ripping straight through, coming out his back. He groaned and stumbled, as the station rocked again from the explosions happening around it. Caeleb screamed as he continued firing, narrowly missing Solomon. Mordekai and Silver continued trying to subdue him, and Eve jumped on top of him. "This has to happen!" he shouted over and over. "Ascension! There has to be an Ascension!"
Arianna took notice at Caeleb's words. Ascension. She had been told years ago that Mordekai might Ascend. She didn't believe it then... but what if it was true? And if she were the Protector, it only made sense that she would be unharmed by Caeleb's shots. She had seen her father struck down. She heard no further sounds from him, and so she tried not to think on it just yet. There would be time for that later. And, in truth, she felt more of Caeleb's betrayal than she did grief for her father. As Caeleb reeled and shouted, his phase pistol was finally taken away, and Arianna looked into his eyes. She saw no shred of the person she had fallen in love with. Perhaps that person had ceased to exist years ago, and she had merely never bothered to look again. But now, as her eyes locked with his, he saw only the deconstruction of every emotion she ever felt for him, and she saw only the madness that wracked his mind.
--End Chapter Twenty-Nine--
Epilogue
Part One: History Repeating
49992 A.D. The End Point.
As Sarah Silver cradled her face in her arms, she began to think aloud. "I don't understand why he did it," she said through a haze of tears.
"I don't understand, either," Arianna said quietly. They sat in one of the rooms near the center of the space station, so that they would be less vulnerable to the Nexus' effects. Solomon entered the room, toting a dataslip. Arianna and Sarah didn't need to see the contents of the dataslip to know what it said. Solomon's expression told all.
"He's dead," Arianna spoke for him.
Solomon nodded slowly. "Caeleb's weapon was set to the modulation of Robert's personal force field system. How he was able to get such information, I have no idea. He probably had help." Arianna could tell that there was more, as well.
"What else?" she asked.
"The explosions Caeleb set off on the station reacted very badly with the Nexus. Not only is the station's orbit decaying, it's also being drained of power. And worse, it has accelerated the Rift. We need to act now. We are going to put your plan into action, Arianna."
"The one involving the other timeships?"
"Yes. I've sent instructions by way of the Nexus into the timestream. If we're lucky, MILTON will catch them and join you in the year 1998."
"What are you going to do with Caeleb in the meantime?" Sarah asked.
"We need his help in setting up Arianna's timeslide. After that, we can lock him up again."
"Very well," Arianna said, trying to keep her composure. The last time she had seen Caeleb imprisoned was aboard the Dagger, where he was beaten and interrogated by SETH agents. The images still continued to unsettle her.
"I also wanted to remind you to watch out for the Timebender," Solomon said. "She's not very active in this time-node... but our records show that the 1998 you are journeying to bears a large amount of influence on her part. Keep your identity concealed for as long as you can... otherwise, she may seek you out."
Arianna had been taught all about the Timebender. She was a menace to the timestream, though her effects were not oft seen in this era. That could easily change, and Arianna knew it. Little was known of this person, except that she was responsible for the assassination of several members of the Silver family line, as well as the murder of Tobin Maxwell. Records of an organization called the Terran Chronal Regulatory Agency indicated that she had singlehandedly killed nearly all of them. The Timebender was not a native of this timeline, but she had, for whatever reason, made it her own. Any encounter with the Timebender was to end with her termination. That was the Department's policy. Of course, no one could ever find her. Arianna wondered if the Timebender was somehow connected to the Rift. She felt Solomon's hand on her shoulder, and looked up. "Sorry," she said. "I was just...distracted."
"We'll get through this, Ari," he said as consolingly as he could. He knew it didn't help.
She stood up and walked with Solomon, and Silver followed behind them as they made the trek to the timepad.
...
As Arianna continued her cross-temporal calculations, Caeleb came up behind her and made the simple question-statement, "Progress?"
"Leave me alone," she uttered as coldly as she could. It was all she could do to keep from either crying or trying to kill him.
"Said I was sorry. What more do you want?"
"I said leave me alone. If I'm going to save the timestream, then I need to concentrate."
"Work quickly, Arianna," Solomon said. "Robert told us the Rift would strike rapidly."
"Do tethers still function?" she inquired.
"Negative. Timeslide will have to be executed manual."
"Great. All right...just ready the timeslide."
"Would be easier were Paradise Lost attainable," Caeleb said. Arianna was annoyed at his statement of the obvious.
"I will slide low-impact, to prevent further acceleration of the Rift," Arianna said.
She would come back from this mission. She swore it to herself. One way or another, she would make Caeleb atone for his actions. However, his atonement would be far different from anything he would have expected.
"Arianna, are you prepared?" Solomon asked.
"Yes. Timeslide status?"
"Nominal. Jump when ready," Caeleb said.
"Activate slide," she commanded.
Light glimmered along the outside of the pad as she stepped onto it. Spheres of vivid color swirled around her, clothing her in their warmth. She almost swore she could feel time and space being twisted and pulled around her as the timeslide began. The orbs of light mixed into her body, flashing in and out, and the world seemed suddenly brighter. Colors became even more vibrant, and she thought she could see into the minds of all of them. She looked at Caeleb and Solomon with one final, fateful glance. They were convinced she was not coming back. But she knew better. As the distance between them increased by time and space, a darkness descended upon her. The timestream whirled about her body, and she smiled. She would stop the Rift, and find a way back. She had to.
[For the rest of this plot, see The Rift, written by yours truly already. :) ]
While Solomon's back was to him, Caeleb strolled over to the coordinate pad which Arianna had been working on. He slipped his hand inside the small slot which contained a portable time-renderer, a device similar in function to a tether, but more effective. He entered new coordinates into the renderer, and vanished in a beam of light as Solomon turned to face him.
...
"Doctor Krajensky?"
Caeleb turned around and saw the face of his eager young assistant, Brynn Orem. "Hello, Ms. Orem."
"I just came to let you know that we are prepared to harvest the subject's DNA whenever you are prepared."
"Good." He placed the time-renderer in his pocket, and followed the young woman. His eyebrow raised as he regarded her. Not bad for 85th Century genetrash.
As he walked, he laughed to himself. He was Doctor Remington Krajensky, infamous creator of the Ebon Death virus. The Radical had suggested the entire idea, and it turned out that it was, in fact, the way things were "supposed" to be. Remington Krajensky never actually existed. He was merely a fabrication that the Radical provided him. They had looked over the entire idea of this predestination paradox time and again, and found the only solution to be for Caeleb to fulfill his destiny as he, apparently, had already done. When he entered the laboratory, he looked at Rachel Ferguson's naked frame, strapped to the table. Were she conscious, she would have recognized his intent. He had used technology to obtain all of her memories... including those of her torture at the hands of Paramount. Though Caeleb was nowhere as sadistic as Paramount, he couldn't help but admire the man's ambition. A perfect mutant. In a way, that's what the entire point of the Ebon Death virus was. Destroying imperfect beings in favor of superior ones. The End Conflicts, by this time, had already greatly reduced the universe's population by wiping out hordes of alien beings (nearly all of them, in fact). Even though the staff of this research complex had no idea that they would die as a result of their project, he didn't feel at all sorry for them. His era was living proof that their efforts had failed, and that humans were just as base and venal as they had ever been. It was not his own fault that the project didn't work... no, it was the fault of those who would enact the Purges, and choose the Twelve Thousand.
His hands gripped the sampling device as he touched it to Rachel's creamy skin. People from the 20th Century were just so damned pale. He wasn't sure what caused it... but she certainly wasn't the healthy tan shade that everyone in his time was. The sampling device carefully extracted tissue bits, and began the process of analyzing them. He needed as many samples of her DNA as he could get, to locate the exact genetic combination that would create the Ebon Death virus. He handed the filled sampling device to Orem, and put his hand in Rachel's. "I will accompany her back to her own time," he said.
Orem took his sample to the nearest countertop and set it down, and then looked back at him. She nodded, and he activated his temporal-renderer. No one in this time ever really asked exactly how he time-traveled. Nor did they inquire as to how he brought this woman to their era. He suspected that they suspected that he was from yet another time-node. But perhaps it was just the paranoia talking. He sighed as he vanished with her. She would wake up next to him in the year 1998, in her bed in the IHFC mansion.
[This scene is picked up in The Rift: Chapters 12 and 16. Chapter 12 is what happened prior to the scene, and Chapter 16 is what happened afterward. How's that for mega-confusion? :) ]
Part Two: The Destruction of Earth
49992 A.D. The Sol System.
Daemon-Ra's fleet moved into the system quickly. The transponder codes that Jouko had given Daemon-Ra worked perfectly. He almost laughed as he thought about the ill-fated Originator. He had allowed the other clones of Jouko to live, simply because they posed much less of a threat. That, and they didn't seem to be as belligerent as the original. Lucky for them.
Shawne Lesle stepped up next to Daemon-Ra. "What do you intend to do when we reach Earth? Demand their surrender?"
"Your sarcasm is not appreciated," Daemon-Ra responded, turning his glare to Lesle. "We are going to destroy the planet."
"Is that so? And how do you intend to accomplish that?"
"Koraxian ships are capable of performing what is called a Derris Cascade. If you check the historical records of your people, you'll see that it's a very effective weapon. But 'your people' also never had any success in acquiring that particular strategic item."
"I doubt it was from lack of trying."
"And you would be right." He turned away, and looked up at his communications officer, a Drakhari. "Tell the rest of the fleet to begin the attack whenever they choose. Also remind them that if they have a sudden change of heart, their ships will have a sudden change in power output." His threat was clear. If the humans piloting the Koraxian ships tried to attack Daemon-Ra's ship, their own vessel would surge and kill everyone aboard with a power discharge.
"You don't trust them at all," Lesle said.
"No, I don't. Just because they hate SETH almost as much as I do doesn't mean they'll willingly commit genocide. Besides, the Derris Cascade is almost entirely automated. I don't even need anyone piloting the ships for that. And what about you? Don't you care in the least that I am about to destroy your entire race's homeworld?"
"After what they have done to your people and mine, I believe that they deserve whatever fate awaits them."
Daemon-Ra's lips curled into a ferocious snarl. "I am very pleased that you see things that way."
The ships edged further into the system. By the time they left, the seat of SETH would be destroyed. There was no question of that.
Part Three: The Ascension
The End Point.
Arianna appeared on the timepad. She was badly hurt, but not grievously so. Solomon helped her down off the pad, with a large smile on his face. "You did it, Arianna."
"I sure as hell hope so. All it took was losing the Paradise Lost. I also ran into some...complications."
Solomon's frown faded. "Such as..?"
"Some people nearly died because the Ebon Death somehow accompanied me to 1998. I don't know how it got there...but it was obviously from me. It was also revealed to the Robert Maxwell--the one who calls himself the Harbinger--that I am his genetic progeny. Other than that, I'd say it went well."
"Hopefully, you didn't impact the timeline very drastically. I, however, have some other bad news."
"What now?"
"Caeleb has stolen a temporal-renderer and journeyed off into the timestream. I can't find him anywhere."
"Look no longer."
Caeleb stood before them with his hand outstretched. In it, he held the time renderer. Solomon took it, and looked at Caeleb cautiously. "I'm not going to hurt anyone. Just put me in my cell or whatever else you want to do with me. I did what I set out to do."
Arianna took his hand firmly, and brought him face-to-face with her. She spoke distinctly. "Everyone else on this station wants you dead, Caeleb. The only reason you continue to live is because I am personally taking responsibility for you. Until one of us dies, you are my responsibility. Is that clear?"
He had never seen her so edgy before. "I understand, Arianna." His words were spoken calmly and sincerely. Wait...sincerely? He questioned his own mind. Why was he listening to her? Why was he agreeing to this?
He felt the rage and anger slipping out of his mind, and he didn't know why. Then the reason struck him. Arianna was doing it. She was trying to calm him with her powers, ease the burning hatred inside him. It was working.
Then a call from Mordekai Stokes' quarters intruded. Solomon answered it, and listened. "Get...down here..." Mordekai was saying somewhere off-screen. His voice sounded strained and weak. What Solomon saw were Mordekai's quarters in shambles. They had not been like that after Caeleb's explosives, either. He quickly grabbed Arianna's and Caeleb's attention. "We need to get to Mordekai's quarters."
...
When they got there, Sarah, Uxbridge, and Landon had already arrived. Mordekai's quarters were disarrayed and frenzied, pictures and dataslips all about, dents and holes in the walls. An eerie blue glow came from the interior of the room as they stepped inside. Crackles of lightning leapt from the floor to the ceiling, and blurred past them. The room was cold. They knew that Mordekai's office was to the right. They walked through the mess, and coped with the odd lighting as well as they could. Even Caeleb was awed at the sight. Landon walked with measured steps, as any good SETH officer would. Uxbridge was consumed with curiosity, but didn't lose himself. Arianna, remembering her role as the Ascended One's Protector, walked ahead of the rest. Solomon gave her a questioning glance, and her expression asked him to trust her. As they entered Mordekai's cramped office, they found him cowering in a corner. His eyes were haunted, and his body glowed with a light of sapphire. They didn't know what was scaring him so. He pointed up at the ceiling. Across it, in a chilling, radiant blue, was a string of letters. It was one word. "Ascension."
--End of Haven--