Scions of Atrea *Sci-fi thingy*
Apr 14, 2008 14:49:03 GMT -5
Post by Arkantos on Apr 14, 2008 14:49:03 GMT -5
((Open to peer review; please alert me to any grammer or spelling mistakes. ^^. Also, please keep in mind this is a work in progress, and I will try to update as needed. Thanks!
~Arkantos))
((EDIT: Have firmly set end to chapter 1, possible end to chapter 2 now up. Chapter 3 is on its way! P.S. The title is now, tentatively, "Scions of Atrea"
Also, Chapter 1 has been edited for understandability and logical continuity
EDIT 4/18: Chapter 3 complete, chapter's 1 and 2 edited further; a character bio/prolouge is coming! Now beginning Ch.4! With more genocide!))
Chapter 1
“The Landing”
Corvan Dorhl was having a bad day at Landing Station 1, 60 miles off the shore of what the locals still called Tokyo through ancient stubbornness. It was now commonly referred to by the Forwarders as Contact Point Zero. His wife was leaving him for an Ignasius (a humanoid alien species renowned for its libido), his superiors at work were questioning his viability over a cheaper Forwarder, and to top it all off, some crazed ship was rocketing towards’ Dock 42, disregarding all hails and, when an escort ship was sent out to investigate, launching some sort of particle weapon that vaporized the entire ship on contact. He sighed. Dorhl was what would have been called an American, but now was just called a Terran, race standard. The ID Friend/Foe protocol was still working and the registration was as the deep space exploration ship Hidden Dagger. Most definitely faked, he thought, as he tried to hail again, and once more, getting no response. He raised defensive shields and activated the assault cannon turrets. If they wanted to land so badly, they’d have to beat him by the book.
The turrets revolved, searching for the offending ship, acquiring a lock and unleashing a 10 million Tesla barrage of magnetically accelerated particles at the intruder. A shield of pure…nothingness surrounded the ship, and it slowed its descent somewhat. The barrage screamed towards the ship and…vanished?! This can’t be right, Dorhl thought, as he brought up Cam 87, located at the top of the scanning tower. The visuals confirmed what had happened as the ship lowered its mysterious shield array once more, and proceeded to return fire. In a very devastating, albeit beautiful, manner, thousands of dark ribbons streaked out like an umbrella of night and fell towards the turrets. They all went down in a silent fury of light, as well as the main shield generators and the anti-personnel robot system.
Damn, whoever they were, they knew their stuff, he thought, as he grabbed a portable shield armor system, designed for pirate attacks, for that’s what Dorhl believed this was by now, with the obviously illegal modifications to the ship that a determined computer descramble revealed was the Moon’s Shadow, a Class 4 out of 5 danger hazard and registered pirate ship on the Galactic Guardians 500 most wanted ships in the galaxy. The Moon’s Shadow was number 25, almost as dangerous as they come.
He picked up a photon cannon, a Vulcan-class multi-barreled chain gun, and two good old-fashioned diamond-edged long swords, usually considered defunct and useless in the age of energy weapons, but you never knew what you were up against. He shook his head as he trotted down the corridor to the lift that connected his monitoring station to the rest of the ocean-based complex. Long ago, diamonds were the rarest and most valuable mineral on the planet, but with the advent of synthesis technology after Contact Point Zero’s Landing Site was established, rare minerals and metals became commonplace.
These particular blades were older models, so they did not collapse into the hilt, and they still had a fastening strap and a sheath, unlike the newer ones, but they still had self-replications installed that allowed for instantaneous repairs to the blade. The replications had been installed in the blades because after one use, the blades became useless, their perfect edges ruined by flesh cells and metal filaments, although they could slice through anything but an energy shield.
He reached Dock 42 and checked to see if the intruders were still inside the sector. The dock’s computer hadn’t recorded anyone leaving or entering except the maintenance droids, and they repaired and refueled ships no matter what, even if the ship happened to be a pirate vessel that ranked 25th in the galaxies’ most wanted list. He checked the external cameras in the bay proper, and was relieved, yet somehow worried, to find no one was outside. This entire situation was highly irregular. Maybe it was a test by his superiors, he thought with a sudden shock, a sort of mock exam to see how he reacted under stress and a potential pirate attack. But no, that couldn’t be right. None of the ships Contact Point Zero had contained any of the modifications that the Moon’s Shadow held; certainly none of them had that sword-like hull formation either. If it was a hoax, it was incredibly elaborate. He steeled himself and opened the doors, stepping warily into the climate-controlled hold. He hadn’t even made it a dozen paces when the port-side boarding ramp began to lower down to the ground, liquid nitrogen spraying out to aid the cooling process of the hull. Dorhl raised his Photon cannon and set the energy output to 4: one setting below maximum. A figure stepped hesitantly onto the gangplank, as if sensing Dorhl was there.
Oddly, the figure was clothed in a strange garb that looked like it once was the identified uniform armor of a Moon’s Shadow pirate, but it was painted red instead of black and silver, and only the bracers over the arms and shin guards showed over a blue robe Order of the Sunstrider Monks, 500 years dead. The figure wearing the robe stepped off the gangplank, revealing it to be a human, or at least mostly human, save for blue hair. The humanoid appeared to be a young male in his early 20s, and looked fascinated with the drab spaceport, looking back and forth incessantly with the eagerness of a child. Dorhl stepped out from the shadows and faced the man, the barrel of the photon cannon glowing faintly with gathering energy. The man looked startled for a moment, obviously surprised at Dorhl’s heavily armored form.
“Halt. I hereby arrest you in the name of the Terran Galactic Immigration Authority. You have the right to representation, provided you cooperate with investigators and are not charged with piracy. Now that I have read you your rights, will you give me your first and last name and Galactic ID so that you may be processed more efficiently?” Dorhl coolly said by rote through a shielded voice modulator.
“What? My name’s Andumi, I don’t have a last name, and I don’t have a Galactic ID or whatever. You are the one in charge here. Are you their leader? Who is the Terran Galactic Immigration Authority? And what year is it?” the man asked with bewilderment.
This floored Dorhl. Everyone had a Galactic ID. Even pirates, who were usually born on Galactic Protectorate worlds, had one. To not have one was to be a nonentity, a void in the fabric of bureaucracy that was the Galactic Protectorate. He hadn’t been trained for this. The possibility that this was all just an innocent misunderstanding hadn’t even crossed his mind.
“Alright, Andumi, I’ll try to help you acclimate to this planet as smoothly as possible. It’s the year 4008 in the Gregorian date, which translates to the year 18,536 in Galactic Standard Time.” The man calling himself Andumi looked puzzled as to the translation of the date, so Dorhl helpfully explained to him in an undertone that the Gregorian date was the planetary calendar and date system, and that Galactic Standard Time had evolved without it, instead focusing on the main rotational cycle of Atrea, the political center of the Galactic Protectorate. “And no, I’m not the one in charge here; I’m the flight coordination commander.” He continued, “The Terran Galactic Immigration Authority is an international self-governing body of human natives, called Terran for our planet’s designation on star charts, and Forwarders, non-Terran life forms. How can you not have a Galactic ID? What system were you born in?!” He wondered, completely forgetting protocol in light of seeing someone who was obviously rich, but naïve of many everyday practices. Only the very elite were rich enough to afford that kind of ignorance of law. That left him to be either a member of the current Imperial House, or he was a rare immortal, a seventh son of a seventh son of a long-dead Emperor, of a long dead House, or a high ranking nobleman or woman who was blessed enough to find a Starbright Seer who had hidden herself away, or perhaps a wandering Monk of the Umbra who had himself visited a nearby planet and decided to settle down there. (The Starbright Seers and the Order of the Monks of the Umbra were two secretive sects of mysterious beings who had hidden themselves in the recesses of the cosmos, and who were oddly gender specific, revealing their secrets of eternal life only to the worthy, who they had deemed had the capability to be able to propagate a suitable line of immortal children).
Unfortunately, the man- no, the Immortal- who had named himself just as Andumi – he had to be royal then, only they were permitted leave behind their surname – sighed, shook his head, and unleashed a swirling nimbus of the same nothingness that had protected his ship before. It vaporized Dorhl’s flesh on contact, leaving only his weapons, his armor being disintegrated by the massive burst of super condensed dark matter. Andumi shook his head again over the remains of Corvan Dorhl. The beings here were far too stupid to be related to Senriyu. Perhaps a plague had wiped out the more intelligent of her race, leaving only the moderately equipped to handle the fallout and the corpses, and to rebuild their civilization until alien races had arrived to take advantage of the ill-prepared humans. Andumi picked up the chain gun and one of the long swords, slinging the chain gun onto his back and the long sword at his side. It made an impressive picture, to be sure. He looked back towards the ship and called out in a concerned voice that slowly gave way to an amused inquiry.
“Senriyu, you can’t hide in there forever. I know all of this is a shock for you, seeing such a place after 500 years, but we have weapons now. We can fight off the Forwarders, and purge them from Terra! Sen~riyu? Come on, we have to go!”
A shadow fell across bright internal lights as a female human, long silver hair falling past the hips of her bio-mechanic jumpsuit, strode down the gangplank indignantly, stopping right in front of Andumi, her blue eyes blazing as she glared at him. Unfortunately, the effect was ruined, as she was a full head and shoulders shorter than him.
“I’m not shocked, I’m just waiting. That man may have had reinforcements with him! And I was most certainly not scared of anything hiding in the shadows!” She picked up the photon cannon and the other long sword, having to make due with fusing the cannon to her suit’s right arm and, because of her height, strapping the sword on her back. Andumi grinned.
“I never said that you were afraid of the shadows...you did.”
Senriyu opened her mouth as if to say something, her index finger pointing accusingly, and then closed it for lack of anything to say. She blushed and mumbled something about how poor lighting was getting in spaceports these days, what were tariffs for if not for upkeep, etc. Andumi, still grinning like a maniac, which in many psychological circles he most certainly was, started walking towards the hangar bay’s exit, and an automated shuttlecraft to take them to the island proper. Terra wouldn’t know what hit it.
The shuttle ride was uneventful as far as Andumi was concerned; Senriyu was still too jittery by droids coming out of the shadows and offering her maps and other tourist paraphernalia. Andumi and Senriyu followed the lighting instructions on the nearest wall down to a turbo lift, which led them to Bay Level 4, reserved for the Imperial Family and the occasional Immortal. A cyborg with pink hair and a revealing outfit cheerfully handed them a pair of visas; a shining platinum holographic-display pass for Andumi, and a regal andurite bio-metallic ID for Senriyu. Apparently, they both were getting VIP treatment, based on the last monitored brainwaves of Flight Commander Corvan Dorhl. It didn’t dawn on the AI that it was allowing approximately 4.3 billion Galactic Credits worth of destructive and stolen technology to just waltz in to one of the most populated cities on the planet. Andumi grinned, placed his newly acquired chain gun on a carry-on rack, and stepped onto the shuttlecraft, which was blessedly unoccupied.
Senriyu immediately went straight to the mobile GAP (Galactic Armaments Provisionary) holovendor terminal in the shuttle’s 1st class diplomatic lounge and bought herself a stylish neo-modern mercenary battle uniform proclaiming her to be a Commandant; the equivalent rank would be Colonel in land-based armies. Andumi chose to keep his armor, but shed the monk’s robe; apparently people here answered only to force, just like his days on the Moon’s Shadow.
He went to an open holographic server, however, and with his “acquired” military access codes, quickly requisitioned himself the dress uniform of a free agent Star Admiral. They certainly looked businesslike, now, with their stars of rank and official-looking badges. They both registered with the Terran Free-Agent Armed Forces Protocol (6th edition) and took their seats; the image of an attractive female appeared on the view screen and directed them towards the shuttlecrafts’ various safety and shielding features shortly after the autopilot disengaged the ship from Landing’s anchor field. As they flew through the air towards Tokyo, a multi-armed robot rolled up and served them light refreshments. They snacked unconcernedly, and Senriyu pulled her hair into a ponytail to make her appear more professional. Andumi took the opportunity to purchase a handful of throwaway mobile videophones and activated only one. He then picked up an in-flight holographic-display phone and dialed the number for information, which was printed in large, friendly text at the bottom of the screen. Another adorable female cyborg appeared and smiled with irrepressible happiness.
“Information here! To whom can I direct you?” she asked, tilting her head slightly to the side.
“I need you to connect me to any independent military contracting corporation that houses its headquarters within the main branches of Tokyo - Contact Point Zero, if you wish.” Andumi said his face severely stoic for once. All of these robots as obvious sex objects strewn throughout everyday life were really starting to make Senriyu fume and Andumi was trying his best not to aggravate her any more than he could survive the resulting aftermath. The cyborg smiled and nodded, oblivious to his seriousness.
“There are currently 620 registered private military contractors within the Tokyo metropolitan area. Would you like me to put you on conference call with all of them? The charge will be 5,000 Galactic Credits per minute if you accept.”
“Hrm…yes. Put me on conference call with all of them. I’ll be paying with my holovisa.” He inserted his visa’s physical scanner into a slot, and the cyborg’s smile lessened somewhat.
“Uh…sir? According to this, you do not need to pay under the Imperial Diplomat’s Accord. I have been instructed to tell you that your Override Code is ‘Thunder’s Fist’. I’ll put them on conference now, if you wish.”
Andumi nodded in acquiescence, and the images of 620 different representatives appeared on his view screen. He pressed the button to hide his image and masked his voice, layering it to render it into a composite.
“Salutations, representatives. I have contacted all 620 of you to alert you to the arrival of two high-priority targets. Both of them are experienced officers, both mercenaries as well. One: female, human, about 20 years of age. Silver hair. Rank: Commandant. Name: Senriyu Hayate. Trained in 93% of the Galaxy’s most used weapons, as well as a few designs that are more esoteric. Also knows assassination, and can mind-dive into any computer she can get her hands on. Danger rating of 85 on the Galactic Protectorate’s combat readiness scale. Wanted alive if possible. The reward is 1.75 billion Galactic Credits if captured, 25 million if you kill her.” Most of the reps’ jaws dropped in shock, but one or two just nodded their heads. Obviously, they were the more professional bunch. This made them all the more dangerous if he was to expect an attack when Senriyu and he arrived at the city’s shuttle port.
“Two: Male, alien, humanoid, blue hair. He is tall and most likely immortal. A member of the Imperial Family, also a master tactician. Rank of Star Admiral. Highly intelligent. Also may have been exposed to experimental bio-modifications, so stay frosty. He holds a danger rating of 98 out of 100 on the Galactic Protectorate’s combat readiness scale. He looks to be about 20; goes by the name of Andumi. The reward is 3.55 billion Galactic Credits. Wanted dead or alive, the reward is still the same. They will be arriving at the Shinjuku shuttle station in approximately four hours. I expect all of your teams to be in position ASAP. You may contact me at this number,” he said, as he input the throwaway’s number to appear on the screen. “I don’t expect any of you to call unless you have achieved your missions. This conference is over. By the way, these marks will only be available for bounty for the next 12 hours, so get them while they’re hot.” Andumi grinned inside at the little joke he’d just made at all of these people’s expense. Many of the faces disappeared when he had finished, but a handful stayed anyway. Andumi brought them up and examined their faces. Yes, they were the ones who hadn’t shown any reaction. That meant that they would be the ones who he would approach if their assassins failed to eliminate himself and Senriyu. A grizzled veteran with a missing eye, a sign of harsh battles, but also of sloppiness, started saying something about the source of the funds, but he silenced him with a word.
“The bounties will be paid in full by the Galactic Protectorate’s Imperial Family. There will be no questions asked concerning the cause for their assassination and/or capture. As I said earlier, if you succeed, the rewards will be worth your while. If not…then don’t bother calling me. Two of my representatives will be visiting you within 36 hours local time to ascertain whether they would be better off working for you than for me. They are both extremely capable officers, and if they decide that you are worthy, then my resources will be at your command. I expect the best out of all of you. End transmission.” He cut off the feed and hung up, lounging back in the seat of his chair, stretching luxuriously, and closing his eyes with a grin. His reverie was cut short, however, when a small hard object went flying at him and struck him squarely on the forehead. He rubbed the sore spot and sat up, opening his eyes to see Senriyu looking very angry with him, her arms folded beneath her breasts, her entire body language screaming irritation at him.
“Now, Senriyu, what have I done? You know this is for the best and if you just-” his explanation was cut short by a solid slap to the face, and his vision swam. He picked up his head and stared unsteadily at the silver haired woman as she picked him up by his shoulder pads, the stars of rank glittering dangerously sharply and too near his neck for comfort, and glared into his red eyes. She looked for a moment as if she would snap his neck in two, but then released him and blushed at the proximity they had been in. Andumi just grinned wanly and placed an arm affectionately around her shoulders.
"Senriyu, please forgive me. I'm sorry I've dragged you into this, but you were the one who wanted to come here so badly. Nevertheless, this isn't the home you once knew. It's been, what, 500 years since you were last here? Too much has changed. Even your ancestors' progeny today wouldn't recognize you, if they were still alive. What we are doing is the right thing, and you of all people know that. If we take out the soldiers, we take out the first of the opposition here. Moreover, once we do that, then we can try to rout the Forwarders and cleanse the planet of their influence. Even then, you'll be alone. You'll have no one. In addition, I'll have no one, too. I...want to stay here, Senriyu, not spend my endless days wandering the stars looking for a colony that's small enough for me to just disappear into. You forget that the pirates on the Moon's Shadow killed my entire colony years before they got to you. Then I killed them all, just to save you. Because you were just like me. Face it, Senriyu. We have to stick together if we both want to survive out here." His face looked saddened and open as he stroked her hair softly, tears welling up in his eyes as he recounted what the pirates had done to both of their lives.
Senriyu's face was shadowed, but a single tear trickled down it as she contemplated her future. Andumi stood up and picked her up off the ground gently from where she had sat. His face oozed with sympathy, but then his eyes shut down, and he returned to that sarcastic, knowing grin of someone who knows that you know they can kill you with no apparent effort.
"Now, we'll take out the assassins when we get to the station, and then we'll get jobs with one of those firms. If we're lucky, we may get to be stationed at a guard post for the Forwarder's Embassy here. Then it'll only be a matter of time before we kill them all." Senriyu looked up, shocked for some reason and said, quite firmly, "No. We can't do that. I won't allow you to slaughter all of them needlessly."
Andumi was still rattling on when he stopped and turned to her, an incredulous look on his face.
"Wait...what do you mean, I can't kill them all?!"
Chapter 2:
“Reign of Fire”
Andumi and Senriyu emerged from the shuttle some minutes later with Andumi nursing some cracked ribs, and Senriyu stomping angrily alongside him, just daring the duty-free salesbot to try and sell her something, her plasma cannon glowing a very threatening shade of green and her free hand methodically gripping and releasing the hilt of her sword.
The tall Immortal strode alongside her with that smooth swagger, and still had that indolent smile on his face, but it was now tinged with pain after he tried to get too fresh with her. You’d think that after several months on board a ship in close quarters, she’d get used to him flirting all the time, like the pirates of the former Moon’s Shadow used to do when they went to port. Andumi, having been a member of the bandits themselves before slaughtering them all in an odd and probably twisted turn of events, learned from them when and what to say to a girl, but unfortunately, Senriyu was psychically shielded from birth, an odd advantage that most Terrans seemed to share as a species, therefore rendering overt inhibition lowering techniques useless. Even more unfortunate was the fact that all of the pickup lines that Andumi learned involved telekinetic suggestion in one way or another, so the Terran species, as far as its females went, was a closed book to him for now.
They entered Shinjuku Local Terminal proper (Departures and Arrivals to and from Landing Point Zero, Planet-wide connections available) and entered the throng cautiously, on the lookout for assassins and pickpockets alike. An unfortunate cutpurse tried to swipe Andumi’s chain gun, with the result of the pickpocket being a smoldering heap on the ground that janitorial robots scurried out of ports in the floor and swept up, returning the marble tiles to their shining luster once more. They were given a wide berth after that. An ineffectual local Defense Force member, (an odd species of Forwarder that probably was biologically perfect for the universal role of law enforcement, but only succeeded in lowering crime by making the thieves actually volunteer for the forces themselves, to try and lower the immediate influx of rival thieves cutting in on their bottom line by robbing their marks before they could), tried to bar their way shortly after, but a cursory look at their visas and their mercenary licenses, as well as their respective ranks, made his faces turn an amusing color of puce and he muttered apologies out of his three heads and seven mouths as Senriyu and Andumi strode past him, unconcerned. They needed to stay focused for when the assassins arrived and –
“Hey, look! Pastries!” Senriyu cried in distraction as she spotted a vendor. Andumi sighed and held his temples with his free hand, massaging them in a circular motion. His other hand was checking the safety of the chain gun and making sure it made all of those reassuring metallic noises weapons make when they’re ready to unleash electric death upon an unsuspecting populace. However, he still followed Senriyu to the stand, its owner’s eyes gleaming with the anticipation of a sale.
“Pastries? No, my Lady, I am a purveyor of spell augmentations-magic, you might call it- that allows you to wield the very power of the elements themselves! Amaze your friends! Dazzle your foes! Make the very earth shake at your presence! All this can be yours…for a price.” The man wheedled, gesturing to several glittering psi-disks.
“All of my products, naturally, are specifically engineered to be usable by Terrans, so you can remain immune to enemy mind control while still using your own abilities to wipe them off the floor, my Lady.” The vendor continued his sales pitch confidently, unaware of the conspiratorial looks being exchanged and swords being eased from their respective sheaths. Suddenly the man’s prattling was cut short as he gulped in fear at two shimmering diamond edged swords pointed at his throat, Senriyu and Andumi now looking anything but tourists on a cross-Galaxy layover.
“I’m an Immortal, correct, Senriyu?” Andumi asked nonchalantly, his head tilted at an angle, his arm still holding the blade rock-steady, “and Immortals never have to pay at Galactic Protectorate-owned buildings, now do they?”
“That’s right, Andumi. They don’t. Hey now, I just realized something! Shinjuku Local Terminal is under the direct control of the Terran Galactic Immigration Authority, isn’t it? That means that indirectly, the Galactic Protectorate owns this entire star port! So, I think it’s very generous of this nice gentleman to donate a portion of his wares to us at no cost, wouldn’t you?” Senriyu replied in a light voice as the stall owner’s face blanched and his eyes bulged, his mouth moving apoplectically in indignation at what was happening.
“What…you can’t just take my things! That’s theft! And I’ll have the law on you if even move one inch, Immortal or no Immortal! So just…shoo! Go away! Begone! I’ll have none of this nonsense at my stall! Get out; can’t you see you’re scaring away my other customers?” The salesperson reasserted, his courage returning to him at the thought of parting with his items without a profit. Andumi and Senriyu just sighed and lowered their heads, returning their blades to their sheathes. Suddenly Senriyu’s arm swung up and released a massively devastating blast of charged plasma swirling over the vendor, burning him to a crisp. Andumi laughed, and then winced as his ribs shifted slightly to the left.
He grabbed a first aid kit from behind the counter and took a dosage of Wound-Be-Gone, stretching his arms and grinning lazily as the medicine took effect, reforming his ribs and absorbing the excess blood that had been filling his body cavity. Senriyu glanced around at the now deserted corridor of the terminal and began integrating as many disks as she could grab into her suit, her eyes widening and contracting as the knowledge and ability was suddenly etched into her DNA and her memories. Suddenly they heard the tramp of steel-shod boots echoing down the marble halls, and the crystal skylight overhead shattered to reveal ropes flying down with a deadly rainbow hail. Dark-clad snipers took up position at the now empty frames as other black armored figures rappelled down the columns, automatic weapons at the ready. A sea of black-clad soldiers surrounded the girl and the Immortal, their helmets reflecting Andumi and Senriyu’s images back at them.
“Alright then! Immortal Andumi, Senriyu Hayate! We’ve orders to take you dead or alive! Are you going to come quietly, or do we get to have some fun and turn you in stuffed in a single body canister?” A man, Terran –or at least he seemed to be- larger than the rest by a head, stepped forward from the silent throng and raised his liquid hydrogen-cooled photon wave-disrupter menacingly at them. He was followed by a smallish fellow with robotic cameras in his eyes -obviously the result of horrendous wars years ago- but that didn’t interest Andumi in the slightest. It was what the man was doing that seemed interesting to him, at least at the time. The small figure seemed not to be noticing them, but instead appeared to be calculating the average pay that each member of the strike force would receive after collecting the bounty on the heroes.
“Ooh, sorry mates, but we’ve got orders too: find the best mercenary company in Tokyo and obliterate the competition. Hope you don’t mind, it being business and all, but I’m afraid I’ll have to slaughter you all in a very violent and senseless manner. Starting with that annoying soldier-accountant you’ve got tallying sums up in his cyber-brain.” Andumi replied in a cheeky accent. He closed his eyes and let the power that dwelt within him flow up and into every living cell in his body, becoming one with it, letting it swirl around him in an impressive display, then- BAM!
He staggered under the blow of the sword hilt in his gut, his lungs emptied from the force of the attack, the power fleeing from him at the loss of concentration. He raised his eyes to see who had struck him, only to see Senriyu, her eyes glimmering with something Andumi couldn’t place –could it be…mischievousness? – And said something to him in a barely audible whisper.
“Sorry, Andumi…but it’s my turn to earn my keep. You’ve done enough for now, why don’t you just take care of yourself, hrm? Besides, I’m dying to try out the new spells I just learned. There’s this one, called Meteor, its incredible-“
But she was interrupted by a very loud throat clearing from the large fellow leading the mercenaries, who were shifting their feet uneasily at what was going on.
“Hum…excuse me miss, but are you turning your friend in here for the bounty? Because if so, I’d like to hire you as a full partner in our firm. We share everything 50-50, so-“he was suddenly cut off by a roaring burst of plasma fire shearing his head clean off. The wound was cauterized by the searing heat of plasma rushing past at a completely unsafe speed, and did not spurt blood, as most wounds of that sort were inclined to do. The body, now lifeless, fell down onto the marbled floor with a sickeningly mute thump.
The other mercenaries stared at the dead hulk for a second, too shocked to realize they’d shortly be joining the unfortunate fellow. But a second was all Senriyu needed to start the incantation, a rotating nimbus of power protecting her as she channeled the needed spell components from the core of the planet itself; it reformed into a giant molten orb of destruction several hundred feet above the ground and consumed a very surprised hovercraft that had been watching the scene innocently as the spell began its inexorable collision with the now-panicking blackguards, who were seeing in hindsight how unwise it was to seal off all of the possible exits before ascertaining the situation of whether their foes would be hostile or not. This was rather unlucky for them, seeing as their foes were indeed very hostile, but they obviously had no chance from the start to even survive against people this psychotically passionate about wanton obliteration.
Meanwhile, the snipers, being of a naturally more stable disposition, thought, and rightly so, that if they could kill the spell’s caster, the deadly lump of molten rock and metal hurtling towards them would dissipate into wherever it came from. They started to open fire on Senriyu’s still figure, but their blasts could not penetrate the shield. Then one of them with a hobby for collecting ancient weapons got the bright idea to use an old projectile sniper rifle he always carried around. Why this particular sniper was carrying it around or how he obtained the ammunition for it is not important, for in a few minutes either one of our heroes will be dead, or at least grievously wounded with a stunned compatriot in a locked-down shuttle terminal full of very hostile mercenaries, or all of the said mercenaries, as well as a good portion of said shuttle port, would be so much slag and burning detritus marring an otherwise beautiful Tokyo day.
The sniper, who will remain unnamed for the sake of detachment, fired –and missed. Instead of hitting the torso, as he assumed the weapon would auto-target onto, it struck cleanly through Senriyu’s left leg, puncturing the flowing metal suit that was supposed to double as armor. She cried out in pain and staggered, dropping to the floor, but she did not waver in her incantation. The sniper never got off another shot, as Andumi had recovered his breath by then and had eliminated many of the snipers with a hail of chain gun antimatter shells. He rushed towards Senriyu, still propped up on one working leg, the other bleeding profusely onto the floor. The soldiers, seeing the effectiveness slow-speed weapons were on the heroes, drew close-quarters weapons and attempted to seize them by force of numbers, if not arms. Andumi struggled to grapple with as many of them as he could and still protect Senriyu’s vulnerable form, the magic by now blinding her with its fury and intensity.
One of the mercenaries managed to sneak past the raging Immortal, slip through the swirling shell of protective magic, and even got as far as raising his stun baton before his arm was separated from the rest of his person in a most peculiar fashion. The blackguard turned in bewilderment and wondered where the Immortal with the sword came from. He then happened to observe his allies lying about in various states of dismemberment, generally cut apart by the same sword that was headed for the join of his head and neck. His last thought was of his apartment, and whether his cyborg he’d left there to do his taxes hadn’t just gone and run off with his entertainment system, like she’d threatened to do just this morning. Unfortunately, the mercenary in question never found out that yes, indeed, the cyborg had in fact eloped with the entertainment system, and they were now living happily somewhere near Osaka just a few hours after he was supposed to get off work. But that doesn’t concern us. What does concern us is the massive meteoric blast that is about to be released on a sizable number of very frightened mercenaries who have too late, it seems, discovered what happens when you deal with true professionals of a catastrophic grade.
Chapter 3:
“The History of Atrea”
Approximately 42 seconds later, Andumi, covered in soot and smoldering ash, staggered out of the burning wreckage carrying an unconscious and bleeding Senriyu. Gone was the façade of arrogance that had served him so well throughout his travels across the Galaxy. It was now replaced by a frantic sense of panic and helplessness, as Senriyu’s lifeblood slipped away to be greedily absorbed by the dusty ground. He looked in complete disorder for someone, and saw a figure, hooded and cloaked, observing him and the girl with a dispassionate curiosity.
“Help her…please. She needs medical attention. She is probably suffering from magical backlash, and that strange projectile weapons’ wound, whatever it was. Please, help her!” he croaked out, his lips chapped and caked with dust, his throat sore from inhaling the shattered particles of razor-sharp crystal and stone flying through the air. The figure merely nodded and approached the two heroes, lifting Senriyu’s prone form from Andumi’s arms with a firm gentleness. He nodded, relieved, as the figure was revealed to be wearing the white cloak and red crucible of the Healer’s Guild, an intergalactic not-for-profit organization that served on every civilized planet, as an independent medical corps of the Galactic Protectorate’s many interests. The Healer gestured for him to follow with its head, and for the first time Andumi noticed the silver and blue crescent brooch that held the Healer’s cloak together. It signified a Grand Maester of the Guild, someone who could heal with the very force of his or her will. It took decades of training to achieve such a feat, and many species were not even biologically capable of handling the focus that such ability required.
Despite being burdened down with the weight of Senriyu and her equipment, the Healer did not seemed troubled in the slightest as they jumped from crater to crater, effortlessly dodging the burning materiel and steaming slag collapsing around them with the grace and fluidity of a gazelle. Andumi, for all of his strength and power, found himself almost struggling to keep up with the Healer, for he still had not grasped the full niceties of Terra’s gravity. He followed the Healer for some distance, until they had reached the beginnings of the metropolis’ downtown regions. Through streets clogged with people and Forwarders going one way, and emergency responders going another, Andumi quickly found himself lost among the massive towers and narrow alleys. Down into the city’s shadows he went, chasing after the Healer as they turned corners and went ever deeper into the maze of corridors that men seldom came out of, if at all.
They had been walking for what seemed like hours to Andumi, when suddenly; the Healer turned a sharp, narrow corner and disappeared into what looked like a gateway of light. Andumi closed his eyes and hesitantly stepped through, his other hand, not busy with shielding his eyes, checked his sword and raised it an inch out of its sheath. Blinking, he looked frantically around for the mysterious Healer and Senriyu, already reaching deep inside him for the power that was always ready for him to call. It surged through him joyously after its broken connection with him just a short while ago, surrounding him with an aura of shadow lapping about his feet. The light faded as his eyes adjusted, and he blinked some more. He seemed to be in a park of some sort, with trees, grass, local flora, and fauna that had surely been driven to extinction centuries ago. A giant panda strolled past, padding along unconcernedly towards a stand of bamboo that was presumably calling its name. He stared at the panda in wonder and amazement, and the panda turned and looked back at him, as if sensing his gaze. The panda’s head made a very un-panda-like jerk with its head to the left, as if saying they went that way, if you’re so inclined to follow them. Andumi could have sworn he heard a voice in his head saying that exact same thing, but he shook his head. Pandas could not possibly be telepathic; Senriyu had said that few beings on her planet, with the possible exception of the higher primates, humans included, were capable of any sort of psychic communication on the more advanced mental frequencies.
However, he still followed the panda’s advice and followed a broad path to the left that stretched on for a distance that was certainly not within the boundaries of the park. He came upon a pavilion of some sort, only that sleek white medical robots were hovering around tables and beings, many of them non-Terran, were lying on beds as white cloaked Healers attended to them. An acolyte in a white dress came and curtsied respectfully to Andumi, eyeing the weapons with wonder.
“Greetings, warrior, to one of our many hospitals scattered throughout the city. What may the Healers aid you with?” she asked politely, still trying not to gaze too fixedly at the tall Immortal standing before her. With his weapons, dusty robes, scarred armor, and minor cuts and lacerations from the wreckage of the terminal, he certainly looked like he was a traveling warrior.
“I need to find someone; one of your Grand Maesters just brought her in here. The patient’s name is Senriyu Hayate: Blood type AB positive, height about 5’6”, silver hair, 20 years of age approximately.” Andumi said hoarsely, and the shadows around him suddenly became visible as they morphed and formed into the image of Senriyu. However, the acolyte’s reaction surprised Andumi the most.
She shrieked and pointed an outstretched arm quavering in fear, shouting for the entire world to hear. “Night wielder!” She cried, fleeing as fast as she could. Suddenly he found himself surrounded by white and green-cloaked men and women, all of them full to the brim of light magic, born from the power of a white dwarf star. Despite their superior numbers, some of them looked at Andumi with trepidation, others with a scientific fascination, and still others with a hatred that Andumi could only describe as fanaticism. He dropped his weapons, a rare thing for him, and slowly raised his hands in the universally friendly gesture of Look; I am not holding a big dangerous weapon. The green-cloaks flinched initially, but once Andumi had released the power, which slunk away like a dog being rebuked by its master, and had shown no signs of open hostility, they gently restrained him and led him to a quieter area, where the Healer whom Andumi had given Senriyu to stood over her filling out some forms on a wafer-thin computer, and watching medical droids attend to her. He sighed with relief, but he was still puzzled. Why was this Healer, a Grand Maester, here? Moreover, why were they still hooded? The Healer looked his way, nodded as if to say they had expected Andumi here any minute, and continued to monitor Senriyu’s vitals.
Andumi approached the bed with relief and collapsed into a nearby hovering chair, white and plush, and stared at Senriyu’s sleeping form with what could only be described as affection – and, maybe even, love?-. However, his reverie was cut short as the Healer approached him and extended a white gloved hand. The hand opened to reveal a lusterless dark gem attached to a brilliant white gold chain circlet. Andumi reached for it as if in a trance, his eyesight drawn into the gem, as if by some hypnosis.
“It is yours, night wielder. Place it on your head.” The Healer spoke for the first time in a quiet, muffled voice. Andumi could not tell whether it was male or female, but he did as he was instructed, and set the circlet upon his brow. The moment he did, pain, blinding, obliterating pain, shot through every nerve in his body, causing him to fall out of the hover chair and lie on the ground, twitching as his muscles spasm rhythmically.
“Relax, night wielder. Embrace the pain, and it will disappear. It is your right of passage.” The Healer continued, and slowly, the pain faded to be replaced by a fantastic surge of power. Black sparks played about Andumi’s frame as he staggered up, his face the very picture of wondrous joy as the power embraced him as never before. The smile faded, however, when he turned towards the Healer’s smug figure.
“I don’t care what this did to me, as long as I know that I’m more powerful. What I do care about is where you get off doing that to people. And another thing, what do you mean, a right of passage?” Andumi accused, the sparks now arcing around him in an increasing flurry as his rage built. The Healer shook its head, and pulled back its hood, revealing a young girl about 14 in age, wearing a crystal tiara with a gem that seemed to be giving off light of its own. The girl smirked, a knowing grin, and shook her head.
“You don’t know anything of the Treaty, do you? Alternatively, why your friend Senriyu’s home planet just happened to be this one? Your fate, and that of Senriyu, is inexplicably bound to my own. We are some of the last of our Orders. What you just experienced was your induction into your society’s final level of mastery. You are a Monk of the Umbra, Andumi, just as I am a Starbright Seer. Senriyu, too, has shown some aptitude to the Sisterhood, but she will need more training yet before she can endure the Trials.” The girl giggled and smiled at Andumi’s stunned reaction.
“Unfortunately, you have been self-taught, so your mastery is decidedly one sided. You can manipulate the power of the Nightside, but it does not extend into the abilities that both of our Orders share, what your ancient Maesters called the Skills of the Penumbra. It’s too bad, really, because it means that I will be forced to teach you everything that you can handle, due to the fact that the last Umbrite Maester was killed on Atrea, after the Galactic Protectorate slaughtered them.” The Seer continued, letting an aura of calming white light emerge around her body and merge with Andumi’s black lightning. Andumi struggled vainly as the light subdued his dark energy and drew closer to his body. A gray mist began to grow on the supernatural battlefield, surrounding and enveloping both Andumi and the Seer.
Andumi’s consciousness floated out of his body as he opened his telepathic frequencies, the gray mist serving to calm him and regulate his breathing. Finally, you’ve arrived. This is the Edgescape, the land between Starbright and Umbra that only emerges when our powers come together as one. I will instruct you on our histories, as well as the plight of your Order and what lies before you. Not in vain do they call us “Seers”. The voice of the Seer called out, echoing in Andumi’s mind.
We shall begin with our shared histories, and of our home planet, Atrea. Tens of thousands of years ago, the Monks of the Umbra and the Starbright Seers were formed by our gods, Reignas and Celeste. Reignas chose to construct his fortress-temple on an island in an inland sea surrounded by mountains, which was perpetually eclipsed by one of Atrea’s nine moons, Tyreian the Red. The monks who were brought to the temple drew their power from a massive crystal that was believed to have been forged by Reignas in a black hole caught between binary stars.
Celeste, on the other hand, placed her temple-palace on a continent that was perpetually under sunlight. The priestesses who dwelt there gained the power of foresight through a perfectly clear gem that absorbed and refracted the light of the stars, for it was born in the heart of a supernova.
Over time, other civilizations came to exist on the planet, most born from failed acolytes of one Order or another. The Orders allowed for coexistence between themselves, if only for swelling their respective ranks. Unfortunately, they found out that only Maesters of each Order could mate with each other and produce Chosen offspring; lesser ranks had to make do with finding non-Chosen mates to propagate with and hope for the best. Also unfortunate was the fact that the Maesters themselves never found reproducing very attractive; they were content in the connection they felt with their gods, and that was all there was to it.
And so it came to pass that the non-Chosen population exploded, and the Orders found themselves growing smaller and smaller with each passing generation. Yet they did not raise new Maesters, as many of the Order at that time were wishing, but instead, our Orders did the most prudent thing they could think of at the time, and sealed our dooms. They seized control of the planet’s budding democracy and transformed it into a massive theocratic pontiff-led government. The Monks took care of law and order planet-wide, and the Seers claimed diplomacy and social services. They thought at the time that they would be leading Atrea into a new age of prosperity, but even the Seers’ vaunted prophecy could not save them now. Over the years, resentment grew among the proletariat about having a seat of government that many citizens were not even allowed to enter, for both capitals were regarded as holy sites, and so therefore off-limits to those not of the Order. An insurgency formed, and over the years, they stockpiled a massive cache of weapons and troops, waiting for a time that we would grow complacent.
Then, one day, the fates closed their eyes on Atrea, and the gods’ presences were no longer detected in their most holy of cloisters. The Seers and Monks, panicking and frightened, fled to their temples to try to beseech the gods to return. No one knows now why they left, but the insurgents took their opportunity and took control of most of the planet, as the Monks had left their weapons behind, and had only taken the fastest transports they could. They re-instated the social services in the aftermath of the Seers’ abandonment of their people, and drafted a Constitution, reforming their ancient democracy into a Protectorate, governed by an elected Council, and headed by a President elected by the general populace. Over them were assigned a group of hereditary watchers, who were equal in power, if not in number, to the Council. This group was called the House, and eventually became the Imperial House, whose seal you see emblazoned everywhere today.
Then, their power consolidated, they began a bloody war on our people. The Seers, with their easily accessed temple-palace, were the first to be targeted by determined Atrean forces. Those who could escape fled the planet entirely, to hide out on far-flung colonies, which had not been subjugated to the rule of the Chosen, and therefore had no quarrel with them. Those who could not escape in time instead retreated to the fortress-temple of their brothers, the Monks of the Umbra. Atrean forces soon followed, and thus followed one of the most tragic tales in our histories: The Siege of Umbra.
It lasted for forty-two years, and many lives were lost on both sides. Few, if any, of the Monks made it out alive. Some ancient texts tell of the fates of the great crystals, the sources of our Orders’ powers. The Starbright Seers were said to have taken theirs with them when they retreated to Umbra, and the Monks who were captured committed ritual suicide when interrogated about the fate of their dark gem. I believe that the gods gave our Orders a final redemption before their total destructions, and that my tiara and your circlet are, in fact, the great powers themselves, disguised and compacted to make detection more difficult. I also believe that at some point, near the end of the siege, the Monks surely knew they could not last out forever, and so created a massive diversion, allowing a pair of small ships to escape with the great powers before the fall of the Temple.
Those ships carried the last of our Maesters, and a few acolytes who showed promise, away from the certain deaths of their brothers and sisters. However, let it be known that our kind bought their lives dearly. Ancient Atrean texts also describe the final assault on the Temple’s innermost cloister, with detail. The texts seem particularly enamored with the Monks, who flung themselves into the fray in a state not unlike that of a berserker unleashing their shadow magic to great effect on the Atrean forces. The Seers, too, aided where they could, healing wounded Monks and even taking command of the anti-air guns and heavy artillery when their Monk defenders fell. Ultimately, though, they were overcome through superior numbers and a determined foe. Many of the Monks were slain outright: they were just too dangerous to keep alive in their battle-enraged states. The Seers, however, were a different problem entirely. Many discerning commanders took as many of them as they could prisoner. I can only hope that those lost Sisters did not lose faith in Celeste before death. Many of them, however, were recorded as taking mates from among the conquerors, if only to ensure their own survivals. I believe a strain of Starbright Seers still lives in a mixture of captivity and command among the Imperial House and Council on Atrea. The truth about the fates of our Orders never made it beyond the orbit of Atrea; the Protectorate soon spewed a pack of propaganda saying that the Monks and Seers had mysteriously abandoned Atrea to seek enlightenment and a deeper connection with their gods in the far reaches of the Galaxy. I…believe that is enough, for tonight. Events back on Terra now require our attention, Brother Monk. We shall return to this state every night from now on to resume your instruction. The voice of the Seer faded away, and the mists retreated. Andumi sensed the power retreat to the safety of his crystal, as well as that of the Seer’s.
Andumi felt his consciousness returning to his body, and he fell onto the ground and stared unblinkingly at the grass in shock and sorrow, not even noticing the fact that it was now night and Senriyu had woken up and had her plasma cannon trained on the Healer/Seer’s figure. A bandage was wrapped around her leg, which, luckily, was still intact and had avoided infection.
“What did you do to him, you conniving bitch?!” Senriyu nearly shouted, being only able to see the mists retreat and reveal an unresponsive Andumi collapse to the ground, and a smug girl withdrawing them.
“An acolyte does not speak that way to her Maester, Senriyu.” The Seer replied coolly, incensing Senriyu into a deeper rage. She stepped forward threateningly and extended the barrel several inches in the Seers direction. The Seer merely shrugged and procured a thin, narrow blade from somewhere within the folds of her cloak, holding it loosely by her side. The blade was enough to cool Senriyu’s rage somewhat, but only long enough for her to take the time to raise the power level from two to five; there was now enough plasma ready to be unleashed to destroy a large starfighter.
“What are you talking about? Tell me what you did to him, or there will not be enough of you left to fill the thimble of protozoa, even if they had the thumbs to go with them!” Senriyu continued, still training her sights on the Seer. The Seer merely curtsied slightly and discarded her cloak, leaving her in a pure white jumpsuit.
“Of course. You have not been inducted yet, like Andumi, so I will just have to tell you now. You are a prime candidate to become a Starbright Seer, Senriyu Hayate. I am the last living Maester Seer that exists in the whole of the Galaxy. Andumi is newly raised, but he is now the last living Maester Monk of the Umbra; Reignas and Celeste gave each other’s Maesters the ability to raise others of their respective orders. Alas, you know nothing of the gods, so I will not pursue that matter for now. What I will tell you is my name: I am Maester Coraivondylla Treis du Allarvoldya. For the purpose of simplicity, and my dislike of long names, I will permit you to refer to me as Cora. Just Cora. Is this understood?” Cora addressed Senriyu in a firm tone that belied her age. It helped that she was also weaving an old Order technique, the gift of hypnotic suggestion, into her speech. Senriyu visibly cooled at the pronouncement and powered down her weapon. Cora beamed. “Good girl. Nice to know you know how to follow orders. Now, I want you to get back in bed and rest up some more. You will drive the other Healers crazy if you are that determined to try to kill yourself again. Andumi will be fine; all he needs is some time to come to grips with the truth of his responsibility as the last Monk of the Umbra.” Cora continued, and Senriyu returned to her bed and lounged back, occasionally looking at Andumi with worry. Cora walked off out of sight of the heroes and fell asleep on the grass, unconsciously proceeding to beat up a very hungry python that tried to get an easy, fresh meal. Andumi did not emerge from his trance until the next morning.
~Arkantos))
((EDIT: Have firmly set end to chapter 1, possible end to chapter 2 now up. Chapter 3 is on its way! P.S. The title is now, tentatively, "Scions of Atrea"
Also, Chapter 1 has been edited for understandability and logical continuity
EDIT 4/18: Chapter 3 complete, chapter's 1 and 2 edited further; a character bio/prolouge is coming! Now beginning Ch.4! With more genocide!))
Chapter 1
“The Landing”
Corvan Dorhl was having a bad day at Landing Station 1, 60 miles off the shore of what the locals still called Tokyo through ancient stubbornness. It was now commonly referred to by the Forwarders as Contact Point Zero. His wife was leaving him for an Ignasius (a humanoid alien species renowned for its libido), his superiors at work were questioning his viability over a cheaper Forwarder, and to top it all off, some crazed ship was rocketing towards’ Dock 42, disregarding all hails and, when an escort ship was sent out to investigate, launching some sort of particle weapon that vaporized the entire ship on contact. He sighed. Dorhl was what would have been called an American, but now was just called a Terran, race standard. The ID Friend/Foe protocol was still working and the registration was as the deep space exploration ship Hidden Dagger. Most definitely faked, he thought, as he tried to hail again, and once more, getting no response. He raised defensive shields and activated the assault cannon turrets. If they wanted to land so badly, they’d have to beat him by the book.
The turrets revolved, searching for the offending ship, acquiring a lock and unleashing a 10 million Tesla barrage of magnetically accelerated particles at the intruder. A shield of pure…nothingness surrounded the ship, and it slowed its descent somewhat. The barrage screamed towards the ship and…vanished?! This can’t be right, Dorhl thought, as he brought up Cam 87, located at the top of the scanning tower. The visuals confirmed what had happened as the ship lowered its mysterious shield array once more, and proceeded to return fire. In a very devastating, albeit beautiful, manner, thousands of dark ribbons streaked out like an umbrella of night and fell towards the turrets. They all went down in a silent fury of light, as well as the main shield generators and the anti-personnel robot system.
Damn, whoever they were, they knew their stuff, he thought, as he grabbed a portable shield armor system, designed for pirate attacks, for that’s what Dorhl believed this was by now, with the obviously illegal modifications to the ship that a determined computer descramble revealed was the Moon’s Shadow, a Class 4 out of 5 danger hazard and registered pirate ship on the Galactic Guardians 500 most wanted ships in the galaxy. The Moon’s Shadow was number 25, almost as dangerous as they come.
He picked up a photon cannon, a Vulcan-class multi-barreled chain gun, and two good old-fashioned diamond-edged long swords, usually considered defunct and useless in the age of energy weapons, but you never knew what you were up against. He shook his head as he trotted down the corridor to the lift that connected his monitoring station to the rest of the ocean-based complex. Long ago, diamonds were the rarest and most valuable mineral on the planet, but with the advent of synthesis technology after Contact Point Zero’s Landing Site was established, rare minerals and metals became commonplace.
These particular blades were older models, so they did not collapse into the hilt, and they still had a fastening strap and a sheath, unlike the newer ones, but they still had self-replications installed that allowed for instantaneous repairs to the blade. The replications had been installed in the blades because after one use, the blades became useless, their perfect edges ruined by flesh cells and metal filaments, although they could slice through anything but an energy shield.
He reached Dock 42 and checked to see if the intruders were still inside the sector. The dock’s computer hadn’t recorded anyone leaving or entering except the maintenance droids, and they repaired and refueled ships no matter what, even if the ship happened to be a pirate vessel that ranked 25th in the galaxies’ most wanted list. He checked the external cameras in the bay proper, and was relieved, yet somehow worried, to find no one was outside. This entire situation was highly irregular. Maybe it was a test by his superiors, he thought with a sudden shock, a sort of mock exam to see how he reacted under stress and a potential pirate attack. But no, that couldn’t be right. None of the ships Contact Point Zero had contained any of the modifications that the Moon’s Shadow held; certainly none of them had that sword-like hull formation either. If it was a hoax, it was incredibly elaborate. He steeled himself and opened the doors, stepping warily into the climate-controlled hold. He hadn’t even made it a dozen paces when the port-side boarding ramp began to lower down to the ground, liquid nitrogen spraying out to aid the cooling process of the hull. Dorhl raised his Photon cannon and set the energy output to 4: one setting below maximum. A figure stepped hesitantly onto the gangplank, as if sensing Dorhl was there.
Oddly, the figure was clothed in a strange garb that looked like it once was the identified uniform armor of a Moon’s Shadow pirate, but it was painted red instead of black and silver, and only the bracers over the arms and shin guards showed over a blue robe Order of the Sunstrider Monks, 500 years dead. The figure wearing the robe stepped off the gangplank, revealing it to be a human, or at least mostly human, save for blue hair. The humanoid appeared to be a young male in his early 20s, and looked fascinated with the drab spaceport, looking back and forth incessantly with the eagerness of a child. Dorhl stepped out from the shadows and faced the man, the barrel of the photon cannon glowing faintly with gathering energy. The man looked startled for a moment, obviously surprised at Dorhl’s heavily armored form.
“Halt. I hereby arrest you in the name of the Terran Galactic Immigration Authority. You have the right to representation, provided you cooperate with investigators and are not charged with piracy. Now that I have read you your rights, will you give me your first and last name and Galactic ID so that you may be processed more efficiently?” Dorhl coolly said by rote through a shielded voice modulator.
“What? My name’s Andumi, I don’t have a last name, and I don’t have a Galactic ID or whatever. You are the one in charge here. Are you their leader? Who is the Terran Galactic Immigration Authority? And what year is it?” the man asked with bewilderment.
This floored Dorhl. Everyone had a Galactic ID. Even pirates, who were usually born on Galactic Protectorate worlds, had one. To not have one was to be a nonentity, a void in the fabric of bureaucracy that was the Galactic Protectorate. He hadn’t been trained for this. The possibility that this was all just an innocent misunderstanding hadn’t even crossed his mind.
“Alright, Andumi, I’ll try to help you acclimate to this planet as smoothly as possible. It’s the year 4008 in the Gregorian date, which translates to the year 18,536 in Galactic Standard Time.” The man calling himself Andumi looked puzzled as to the translation of the date, so Dorhl helpfully explained to him in an undertone that the Gregorian date was the planetary calendar and date system, and that Galactic Standard Time had evolved without it, instead focusing on the main rotational cycle of Atrea, the political center of the Galactic Protectorate. “And no, I’m not the one in charge here; I’m the flight coordination commander.” He continued, “The Terran Galactic Immigration Authority is an international self-governing body of human natives, called Terran for our planet’s designation on star charts, and Forwarders, non-Terran life forms. How can you not have a Galactic ID? What system were you born in?!” He wondered, completely forgetting protocol in light of seeing someone who was obviously rich, but naïve of many everyday practices. Only the very elite were rich enough to afford that kind of ignorance of law. That left him to be either a member of the current Imperial House, or he was a rare immortal, a seventh son of a seventh son of a long-dead Emperor, of a long dead House, or a high ranking nobleman or woman who was blessed enough to find a Starbright Seer who had hidden herself away, or perhaps a wandering Monk of the Umbra who had himself visited a nearby planet and decided to settle down there. (The Starbright Seers and the Order of the Monks of the Umbra were two secretive sects of mysterious beings who had hidden themselves in the recesses of the cosmos, and who were oddly gender specific, revealing their secrets of eternal life only to the worthy, who they had deemed had the capability to be able to propagate a suitable line of immortal children).
Unfortunately, the man- no, the Immortal- who had named himself just as Andumi – he had to be royal then, only they were permitted leave behind their surname – sighed, shook his head, and unleashed a swirling nimbus of the same nothingness that had protected his ship before. It vaporized Dorhl’s flesh on contact, leaving only his weapons, his armor being disintegrated by the massive burst of super condensed dark matter. Andumi shook his head again over the remains of Corvan Dorhl. The beings here were far too stupid to be related to Senriyu. Perhaps a plague had wiped out the more intelligent of her race, leaving only the moderately equipped to handle the fallout and the corpses, and to rebuild their civilization until alien races had arrived to take advantage of the ill-prepared humans. Andumi picked up the chain gun and one of the long swords, slinging the chain gun onto his back and the long sword at his side. It made an impressive picture, to be sure. He looked back towards the ship and called out in a concerned voice that slowly gave way to an amused inquiry.
“Senriyu, you can’t hide in there forever. I know all of this is a shock for you, seeing such a place after 500 years, but we have weapons now. We can fight off the Forwarders, and purge them from Terra! Sen~riyu? Come on, we have to go!”
A shadow fell across bright internal lights as a female human, long silver hair falling past the hips of her bio-mechanic jumpsuit, strode down the gangplank indignantly, stopping right in front of Andumi, her blue eyes blazing as she glared at him. Unfortunately, the effect was ruined, as she was a full head and shoulders shorter than him.
“I’m not shocked, I’m just waiting. That man may have had reinforcements with him! And I was most certainly not scared of anything hiding in the shadows!” She picked up the photon cannon and the other long sword, having to make due with fusing the cannon to her suit’s right arm and, because of her height, strapping the sword on her back. Andumi grinned.
“I never said that you were afraid of the shadows...you did.”
Senriyu opened her mouth as if to say something, her index finger pointing accusingly, and then closed it for lack of anything to say. She blushed and mumbled something about how poor lighting was getting in spaceports these days, what were tariffs for if not for upkeep, etc. Andumi, still grinning like a maniac, which in many psychological circles he most certainly was, started walking towards the hangar bay’s exit, and an automated shuttlecraft to take them to the island proper. Terra wouldn’t know what hit it.
The shuttle ride was uneventful as far as Andumi was concerned; Senriyu was still too jittery by droids coming out of the shadows and offering her maps and other tourist paraphernalia. Andumi and Senriyu followed the lighting instructions on the nearest wall down to a turbo lift, which led them to Bay Level 4, reserved for the Imperial Family and the occasional Immortal. A cyborg with pink hair and a revealing outfit cheerfully handed them a pair of visas; a shining platinum holographic-display pass for Andumi, and a regal andurite bio-metallic ID for Senriyu. Apparently, they both were getting VIP treatment, based on the last monitored brainwaves of Flight Commander Corvan Dorhl. It didn’t dawn on the AI that it was allowing approximately 4.3 billion Galactic Credits worth of destructive and stolen technology to just waltz in to one of the most populated cities on the planet. Andumi grinned, placed his newly acquired chain gun on a carry-on rack, and stepped onto the shuttlecraft, which was blessedly unoccupied.
Senriyu immediately went straight to the mobile GAP (Galactic Armaments Provisionary) holovendor terminal in the shuttle’s 1st class diplomatic lounge and bought herself a stylish neo-modern mercenary battle uniform proclaiming her to be a Commandant; the equivalent rank would be Colonel in land-based armies. Andumi chose to keep his armor, but shed the monk’s robe; apparently people here answered only to force, just like his days on the Moon’s Shadow.
He went to an open holographic server, however, and with his “acquired” military access codes, quickly requisitioned himself the dress uniform of a free agent Star Admiral. They certainly looked businesslike, now, with their stars of rank and official-looking badges. They both registered with the Terran Free-Agent Armed Forces Protocol (6th edition) and took their seats; the image of an attractive female appeared on the view screen and directed them towards the shuttlecrafts’ various safety and shielding features shortly after the autopilot disengaged the ship from Landing’s anchor field. As they flew through the air towards Tokyo, a multi-armed robot rolled up and served them light refreshments. They snacked unconcernedly, and Senriyu pulled her hair into a ponytail to make her appear more professional. Andumi took the opportunity to purchase a handful of throwaway mobile videophones and activated only one. He then picked up an in-flight holographic-display phone and dialed the number for information, which was printed in large, friendly text at the bottom of the screen. Another adorable female cyborg appeared and smiled with irrepressible happiness.
“Information here! To whom can I direct you?” she asked, tilting her head slightly to the side.
“I need you to connect me to any independent military contracting corporation that houses its headquarters within the main branches of Tokyo - Contact Point Zero, if you wish.” Andumi said his face severely stoic for once. All of these robots as obvious sex objects strewn throughout everyday life were really starting to make Senriyu fume and Andumi was trying his best not to aggravate her any more than he could survive the resulting aftermath. The cyborg smiled and nodded, oblivious to his seriousness.
“There are currently 620 registered private military contractors within the Tokyo metropolitan area. Would you like me to put you on conference call with all of them? The charge will be 5,000 Galactic Credits per minute if you accept.”
“Hrm…yes. Put me on conference call with all of them. I’ll be paying with my holovisa.” He inserted his visa’s physical scanner into a slot, and the cyborg’s smile lessened somewhat.
“Uh…sir? According to this, you do not need to pay under the Imperial Diplomat’s Accord. I have been instructed to tell you that your Override Code is ‘Thunder’s Fist’. I’ll put them on conference now, if you wish.”
Andumi nodded in acquiescence, and the images of 620 different representatives appeared on his view screen. He pressed the button to hide his image and masked his voice, layering it to render it into a composite.
“Salutations, representatives. I have contacted all 620 of you to alert you to the arrival of two high-priority targets. Both of them are experienced officers, both mercenaries as well. One: female, human, about 20 years of age. Silver hair. Rank: Commandant. Name: Senriyu Hayate. Trained in 93% of the Galaxy’s most used weapons, as well as a few designs that are more esoteric. Also knows assassination, and can mind-dive into any computer she can get her hands on. Danger rating of 85 on the Galactic Protectorate’s combat readiness scale. Wanted alive if possible. The reward is 1.75 billion Galactic Credits if captured, 25 million if you kill her.” Most of the reps’ jaws dropped in shock, but one or two just nodded their heads. Obviously, they were the more professional bunch. This made them all the more dangerous if he was to expect an attack when Senriyu and he arrived at the city’s shuttle port.
“Two: Male, alien, humanoid, blue hair. He is tall and most likely immortal. A member of the Imperial Family, also a master tactician. Rank of Star Admiral. Highly intelligent. Also may have been exposed to experimental bio-modifications, so stay frosty. He holds a danger rating of 98 out of 100 on the Galactic Protectorate’s combat readiness scale. He looks to be about 20; goes by the name of Andumi. The reward is 3.55 billion Galactic Credits. Wanted dead or alive, the reward is still the same. They will be arriving at the Shinjuku shuttle station in approximately four hours. I expect all of your teams to be in position ASAP. You may contact me at this number,” he said, as he input the throwaway’s number to appear on the screen. “I don’t expect any of you to call unless you have achieved your missions. This conference is over. By the way, these marks will only be available for bounty for the next 12 hours, so get them while they’re hot.” Andumi grinned inside at the little joke he’d just made at all of these people’s expense. Many of the faces disappeared when he had finished, but a handful stayed anyway. Andumi brought them up and examined their faces. Yes, they were the ones who hadn’t shown any reaction. That meant that they would be the ones who he would approach if their assassins failed to eliminate himself and Senriyu. A grizzled veteran with a missing eye, a sign of harsh battles, but also of sloppiness, started saying something about the source of the funds, but he silenced him with a word.
“The bounties will be paid in full by the Galactic Protectorate’s Imperial Family. There will be no questions asked concerning the cause for their assassination and/or capture. As I said earlier, if you succeed, the rewards will be worth your while. If not…then don’t bother calling me. Two of my representatives will be visiting you within 36 hours local time to ascertain whether they would be better off working for you than for me. They are both extremely capable officers, and if they decide that you are worthy, then my resources will be at your command. I expect the best out of all of you. End transmission.” He cut off the feed and hung up, lounging back in the seat of his chair, stretching luxuriously, and closing his eyes with a grin. His reverie was cut short, however, when a small hard object went flying at him and struck him squarely on the forehead. He rubbed the sore spot and sat up, opening his eyes to see Senriyu looking very angry with him, her arms folded beneath her breasts, her entire body language screaming irritation at him.
“Now, Senriyu, what have I done? You know this is for the best and if you just-” his explanation was cut short by a solid slap to the face, and his vision swam. He picked up his head and stared unsteadily at the silver haired woman as she picked him up by his shoulder pads, the stars of rank glittering dangerously sharply and too near his neck for comfort, and glared into his red eyes. She looked for a moment as if she would snap his neck in two, but then released him and blushed at the proximity they had been in. Andumi just grinned wanly and placed an arm affectionately around her shoulders.
"Senriyu, please forgive me. I'm sorry I've dragged you into this, but you were the one who wanted to come here so badly. Nevertheless, this isn't the home you once knew. It's been, what, 500 years since you were last here? Too much has changed. Even your ancestors' progeny today wouldn't recognize you, if they were still alive. What we are doing is the right thing, and you of all people know that. If we take out the soldiers, we take out the first of the opposition here. Moreover, once we do that, then we can try to rout the Forwarders and cleanse the planet of their influence. Even then, you'll be alone. You'll have no one. In addition, I'll have no one, too. I...want to stay here, Senriyu, not spend my endless days wandering the stars looking for a colony that's small enough for me to just disappear into. You forget that the pirates on the Moon's Shadow killed my entire colony years before they got to you. Then I killed them all, just to save you. Because you were just like me. Face it, Senriyu. We have to stick together if we both want to survive out here." His face looked saddened and open as he stroked her hair softly, tears welling up in his eyes as he recounted what the pirates had done to both of their lives.
Senriyu's face was shadowed, but a single tear trickled down it as she contemplated her future. Andumi stood up and picked her up off the ground gently from where she had sat. His face oozed with sympathy, but then his eyes shut down, and he returned to that sarcastic, knowing grin of someone who knows that you know they can kill you with no apparent effort.
"Now, we'll take out the assassins when we get to the station, and then we'll get jobs with one of those firms. If we're lucky, we may get to be stationed at a guard post for the Forwarder's Embassy here. Then it'll only be a matter of time before we kill them all." Senriyu looked up, shocked for some reason and said, quite firmly, "No. We can't do that. I won't allow you to slaughter all of them needlessly."
Andumi was still rattling on when he stopped and turned to her, an incredulous look on his face.
"Wait...what do you mean, I can't kill them all?!"
Chapter 2:
“Reign of Fire”
Andumi and Senriyu emerged from the shuttle some minutes later with Andumi nursing some cracked ribs, and Senriyu stomping angrily alongside him, just daring the duty-free salesbot to try and sell her something, her plasma cannon glowing a very threatening shade of green and her free hand methodically gripping and releasing the hilt of her sword.
The tall Immortal strode alongside her with that smooth swagger, and still had that indolent smile on his face, but it was now tinged with pain after he tried to get too fresh with her. You’d think that after several months on board a ship in close quarters, she’d get used to him flirting all the time, like the pirates of the former Moon’s Shadow used to do when they went to port. Andumi, having been a member of the bandits themselves before slaughtering them all in an odd and probably twisted turn of events, learned from them when and what to say to a girl, but unfortunately, Senriyu was psychically shielded from birth, an odd advantage that most Terrans seemed to share as a species, therefore rendering overt inhibition lowering techniques useless. Even more unfortunate was the fact that all of the pickup lines that Andumi learned involved telekinetic suggestion in one way or another, so the Terran species, as far as its females went, was a closed book to him for now.
They entered Shinjuku Local Terminal proper (Departures and Arrivals to and from Landing Point Zero, Planet-wide connections available) and entered the throng cautiously, on the lookout for assassins and pickpockets alike. An unfortunate cutpurse tried to swipe Andumi’s chain gun, with the result of the pickpocket being a smoldering heap on the ground that janitorial robots scurried out of ports in the floor and swept up, returning the marble tiles to their shining luster once more. They were given a wide berth after that. An ineffectual local Defense Force member, (an odd species of Forwarder that probably was biologically perfect for the universal role of law enforcement, but only succeeded in lowering crime by making the thieves actually volunteer for the forces themselves, to try and lower the immediate influx of rival thieves cutting in on their bottom line by robbing their marks before they could), tried to bar their way shortly after, but a cursory look at their visas and their mercenary licenses, as well as their respective ranks, made his faces turn an amusing color of puce and he muttered apologies out of his three heads and seven mouths as Senriyu and Andumi strode past him, unconcerned. They needed to stay focused for when the assassins arrived and –
“Hey, look! Pastries!” Senriyu cried in distraction as she spotted a vendor. Andumi sighed and held his temples with his free hand, massaging them in a circular motion. His other hand was checking the safety of the chain gun and making sure it made all of those reassuring metallic noises weapons make when they’re ready to unleash electric death upon an unsuspecting populace. However, he still followed Senriyu to the stand, its owner’s eyes gleaming with the anticipation of a sale.
“Pastries? No, my Lady, I am a purveyor of spell augmentations-magic, you might call it- that allows you to wield the very power of the elements themselves! Amaze your friends! Dazzle your foes! Make the very earth shake at your presence! All this can be yours…for a price.” The man wheedled, gesturing to several glittering psi-disks.
“All of my products, naturally, are specifically engineered to be usable by Terrans, so you can remain immune to enemy mind control while still using your own abilities to wipe them off the floor, my Lady.” The vendor continued his sales pitch confidently, unaware of the conspiratorial looks being exchanged and swords being eased from their respective sheaths. Suddenly the man’s prattling was cut short as he gulped in fear at two shimmering diamond edged swords pointed at his throat, Senriyu and Andumi now looking anything but tourists on a cross-Galaxy layover.
“I’m an Immortal, correct, Senriyu?” Andumi asked nonchalantly, his head tilted at an angle, his arm still holding the blade rock-steady, “and Immortals never have to pay at Galactic Protectorate-owned buildings, now do they?”
“That’s right, Andumi. They don’t. Hey now, I just realized something! Shinjuku Local Terminal is under the direct control of the Terran Galactic Immigration Authority, isn’t it? That means that indirectly, the Galactic Protectorate owns this entire star port! So, I think it’s very generous of this nice gentleman to donate a portion of his wares to us at no cost, wouldn’t you?” Senriyu replied in a light voice as the stall owner’s face blanched and his eyes bulged, his mouth moving apoplectically in indignation at what was happening.
“What…you can’t just take my things! That’s theft! And I’ll have the law on you if even move one inch, Immortal or no Immortal! So just…shoo! Go away! Begone! I’ll have none of this nonsense at my stall! Get out; can’t you see you’re scaring away my other customers?” The salesperson reasserted, his courage returning to him at the thought of parting with his items without a profit. Andumi and Senriyu just sighed and lowered their heads, returning their blades to their sheathes. Suddenly Senriyu’s arm swung up and released a massively devastating blast of charged plasma swirling over the vendor, burning him to a crisp. Andumi laughed, and then winced as his ribs shifted slightly to the left.
He grabbed a first aid kit from behind the counter and took a dosage of Wound-Be-Gone, stretching his arms and grinning lazily as the medicine took effect, reforming his ribs and absorbing the excess blood that had been filling his body cavity. Senriyu glanced around at the now deserted corridor of the terminal and began integrating as many disks as she could grab into her suit, her eyes widening and contracting as the knowledge and ability was suddenly etched into her DNA and her memories. Suddenly they heard the tramp of steel-shod boots echoing down the marble halls, and the crystal skylight overhead shattered to reveal ropes flying down with a deadly rainbow hail. Dark-clad snipers took up position at the now empty frames as other black armored figures rappelled down the columns, automatic weapons at the ready. A sea of black-clad soldiers surrounded the girl and the Immortal, their helmets reflecting Andumi and Senriyu’s images back at them.
“Alright then! Immortal Andumi, Senriyu Hayate! We’ve orders to take you dead or alive! Are you going to come quietly, or do we get to have some fun and turn you in stuffed in a single body canister?” A man, Terran –or at least he seemed to be- larger than the rest by a head, stepped forward from the silent throng and raised his liquid hydrogen-cooled photon wave-disrupter menacingly at them. He was followed by a smallish fellow with robotic cameras in his eyes -obviously the result of horrendous wars years ago- but that didn’t interest Andumi in the slightest. It was what the man was doing that seemed interesting to him, at least at the time. The small figure seemed not to be noticing them, but instead appeared to be calculating the average pay that each member of the strike force would receive after collecting the bounty on the heroes.
“Ooh, sorry mates, but we’ve got orders too: find the best mercenary company in Tokyo and obliterate the competition. Hope you don’t mind, it being business and all, but I’m afraid I’ll have to slaughter you all in a very violent and senseless manner. Starting with that annoying soldier-accountant you’ve got tallying sums up in his cyber-brain.” Andumi replied in a cheeky accent. He closed his eyes and let the power that dwelt within him flow up and into every living cell in his body, becoming one with it, letting it swirl around him in an impressive display, then- BAM!
He staggered under the blow of the sword hilt in his gut, his lungs emptied from the force of the attack, the power fleeing from him at the loss of concentration. He raised his eyes to see who had struck him, only to see Senriyu, her eyes glimmering with something Andumi couldn’t place –could it be…mischievousness? – And said something to him in a barely audible whisper.
“Sorry, Andumi…but it’s my turn to earn my keep. You’ve done enough for now, why don’t you just take care of yourself, hrm? Besides, I’m dying to try out the new spells I just learned. There’s this one, called Meteor, its incredible-“
But she was interrupted by a very loud throat clearing from the large fellow leading the mercenaries, who were shifting their feet uneasily at what was going on.
“Hum…excuse me miss, but are you turning your friend in here for the bounty? Because if so, I’d like to hire you as a full partner in our firm. We share everything 50-50, so-“he was suddenly cut off by a roaring burst of plasma fire shearing his head clean off. The wound was cauterized by the searing heat of plasma rushing past at a completely unsafe speed, and did not spurt blood, as most wounds of that sort were inclined to do. The body, now lifeless, fell down onto the marbled floor with a sickeningly mute thump.
The other mercenaries stared at the dead hulk for a second, too shocked to realize they’d shortly be joining the unfortunate fellow. But a second was all Senriyu needed to start the incantation, a rotating nimbus of power protecting her as she channeled the needed spell components from the core of the planet itself; it reformed into a giant molten orb of destruction several hundred feet above the ground and consumed a very surprised hovercraft that had been watching the scene innocently as the spell began its inexorable collision with the now-panicking blackguards, who were seeing in hindsight how unwise it was to seal off all of the possible exits before ascertaining the situation of whether their foes would be hostile or not. This was rather unlucky for them, seeing as their foes were indeed very hostile, but they obviously had no chance from the start to even survive against people this psychotically passionate about wanton obliteration.
Meanwhile, the snipers, being of a naturally more stable disposition, thought, and rightly so, that if they could kill the spell’s caster, the deadly lump of molten rock and metal hurtling towards them would dissipate into wherever it came from. They started to open fire on Senriyu’s still figure, but their blasts could not penetrate the shield. Then one of them with a hobby for collecting ancient weapons got the bright idea to use an old projectile sniper rifle he always carried around. Why this particular sniper was carrying it around or how he obtained the ammunition for it is not important, for in a few minutes either one of our heroes will be dead, or at least grievously wounded with a stunned compatriot in a locked-down shuttle terminal full of very hostile mercenaries, or all of the said mercenaries, as well as a good portion of said shuttle port, would be so much slag and burning detritus marring an otherwise beautiful Tokyo day.
The sniper, who will remain unnamed for the sake of detachment, fired –and missed. Instead of hitting the torso, as he assumed the weapon would auto-target onto, it struck cleanly through Senriyu’s left leg, puncturing the flowing metal suit that was supposed to double as armor. She cried out in pain and staggered, dropping to the floor, but she did not waver in her incantation. The sniper never got off another shot, as Andumi had recovered his breath by then and had eliminated many of the snipers with a hail of chain gun antimatter shells. He rushed towards Senriyu, still propped up on one working leg, the other bleeding profusely onto the floor. The soldiers, seeing the effectiveness slow-speed weapons were on the heroes, drew close-quarters weapons and attempted to seize them by force of numbers, if not arms. Andumi struggled to grapple with as many of them as he could and still protect Senriyu’s vulnerable form, the magic by now blinding her with its fury and intensity.
One of the mercenaries managed to sneak past the raging Immortal, slip through the swirling shell of protective magic, and even got as far as raising his stun baton before his arm was separated from the rest of his person in a most peculiar fashion. The blackguard turned in bewilderment and wondered where the Immortal with the sword came from. He then happened to observe his allies lying about in various states of dismemberment, generally cut apart by the same sword that was headed for the join of his head and neck. His last thought was of his apartment, and whether his cyborg he’d left there to do his taxes hadn’t just gone and run off with his entertainment system, like she’d threatened to do just this morning. Unfortunately, the mercenary in question never found out that yes, indeed, the cyborg had in fact eloped with the entertainment system, and they were now living happily somewhere near Osaka just a few hours after he was supposed to get off work. But that doesn’t concern us. What does concern us is the massive meteoric blast that is about to be released on a sizable number of very frightened mercenaries who have too late, it seems, discovered what happens when you deal with true professionals of a catastrophic grade.
Chapter 3:
“The History of Atrea”
Approximately 42 seconds later, Andumi, covered in soot and smoldering ash, staggered out of the burning wreckage carrying an unconscious and bleeding Senriyu. Gone was the façade of arrogance that had served him so well throughout his travels across the Galaxy. It was now replaced by a frantic sense of panic and helplessness, as Senriyu’s lifeblood slipped away to be greedily absorbed by the dusty ground. He looked in complete disorder for someone, and saw a figure, hooded and cloaked, observing him and the girl with a dispassionate curiosity.
“Help her…please. She needs medical attention. She is probably suffering from magical backlash, and that strange projectile weapons’ wound, whatever it was. Please, help her!” he croaked out, his lips chapped and caked with dust, his throat sore from inhaling the shattered particles of razor-sharp crystal and stone flying through the air. The figure merely nodded and approached the two heroes, lifting Senriyu’s prone form from Andumi’s arms with a firm gentleness. He nodded, relieved, as the figure was revealed to be wearing the white cloak and red crucible of the Healer’s Guild, an intergalactic not-for-profit organization that served on every civilized planet, as an independent medical corps of the Galactic Protectorate’s many interests. The Healer gestured for him to follow with its head, and for the first time Andumi noticed the silver and blue crescent brooch that held the Healer’s cloak together. It signified a Grand Maester of the Guild, someone who could heal with the very force of his or her will. It took decades of training to achieve such a feat, and many species were not even biologically capable of handling the focus that such ability required.
Despite being burdened down with the weight of Senriyu and her equipment, the Healer did not seemed troubled in the slightest as they jumped from crater to crater, effortlessly dodging the burning materiel and steaming slag collapsing around them with the grace and fluidity of a gazelle. Andumi, for all of his strength and power, found himself almost struggling to keep up with the Healer, for he still had not grasped the full niceties of Terra’s gravity. He followed the Healer for some distance, until they had reached the beginnings of the metropolis’ downtown regions. Through streets clogged with people and Forwarders going one way, and emergency responders going another, Andumi quickly found himself lost among the massive towers and narrow alleys. Down into the city’s shadows he went, chasing after the Healer as they turned corners and went ever deeper into the maze of corridors that men seldom came out of, if at all.
They had been walking for what seemed like hours to Andumi, when suddenly; the Healer turned a sharp, narrow corner and disappeared into what looked like a gateway of light. Andumi closed his eyes and hesitantly stepped through, his other hand, not busy with shielding his eyes, checked his sword and raised it an inch out of its sheath. Blinking, he looked frantically around for the mysterious Healer and Senriyu, already reaching deep inside him for the power that was always ready for him to call. It surged through him joyously after its broken connection with him just a short while ago, surrounding him with an aura of shadow lapping about his feet. The light faded as his eyes adjusted, and he blinked some more. He seemed to be in a park of some sort, with trees, grass, local flora, and fauna that had surely been driven to extinction centuries ago. A giant panda strolled past, padding along unconcernedly towards a stand of bamboo that was presumably calling its name. He stared at the panda in wonder and amazement, and the panda turned and looked back at him, as if sensing his gaze. The panda’s head made a very un-panda-like jerk with its head to the left, as if saying they went that way, if you’re so inclined to follow them. Andumi could have sworn he heard a voice in his head saying that exact same thing, but he shook his head. Pandas could not possibly be telepathic; Senriyu had said that few beings on her planet, with the possible exception of the higher primates, humans included, were capable of any sort of psychic communication on the more advanced mental frequencies.
However, he still followed the panda’s advice and followed a broad path to the left that stretched on for a distance that was certainly not within the boundaries of the park. He came upon a pavilion of some sort, only that sleek white medical robots were hovering around tables and beings, many of them non-Terran, were lying on beds as white cloaked Healers attended to them. An acolyte in a white dress came and curtsied respectfully to Andumi, eyeing the weapons with wonder.
“Greetings, warrior, to one of our many hospitals scattered throughout the city. What may the Healers aid you with?” she asked politely, still trying not to gaze too fixedly at the tall Immortal standing before her. With his weapons, dusty robes, scarred armor, and minor cuts and lacerations from the wreckage of the terminal, he certainly looked like he was a traveling warrior.
“I need to find someone; one of your Grand Maesters just brought her in here. The patient’s name is Senriyu Hayate: Blood type AB positive, height about 5’6”, silver hair, 20 years of age approximately.” Andumi said hoarsely, and the shadows around him suddenly became visible as they morphed and formed into the image of Senriyu. However, the acolyte’s reaction surprised Andumi the most.
She shrieked and pointed an outstretched arm quavering in fear, shouting for the entire world to hear. “Night wielder!” She cried, fleeing as fast as she could. Suddenly he found himself surrounded by white and green-cloaked men and women, all of them full to the brim of light magic, born from the power of a white dwarf star. Despite their superior numbers, some of them looked at Andumi with trepidation, others with a scientific fascination, and still others with a hatred that Andumi could only describe as fanaticism. He dropped his weapons, a rare thing for him, and slowly raised his hands in the universally friendly gesture of Look; I am not holding a big dangerous weapon. The green-cloaks flinched initially, but once Andumi had released the power, which slunk away like a dog being rebuked by its master, and had shown no signs of open hostility, they gently restrained him and led him to a quieter area, where the Healer whom Andumi had given Senriyu to stood over her filling out some forms on a wafer-thin computer, and watching medical droids attend to her. He sighed with relief, but he was still puzzled. Why was this Healer, a Grand Maester, here? Moreover, why were they still hooded? The Healer looked his way, nodded as if to say they had expected Andumi here any minute, and continued to monitor Senriyu’s vitals.
Andumi approached the bed with relief and collapsed into a nearby hovering chair, white and plush, and stared at Senriyu’s sleeping form with what could only be described as affection – and, maybe even, love?-. However, his reverie was cut short as the Healer approached him and extended a white gloved hand. The hand opened to reveal a lusterless dark gem attached to a brilliant white gold chain circlet. Andumi reached for it as if in a trance, his eyesight drawn into the gem, as if by some hypnosis.
“It is yours, night wielder. Place it on your head.” The Healer spoke for the first time in a quiet, muffled voice. Andumi could not tell whether it was male or female, but he did as he was instructed, and set the circlet upon his brow. The moment he did, pain, blinding, obliterating pain, shot through every nerve in his body, causing him to fall out of the hover chair and lie on the ground, twitching as his muscles spasm rhythmically.
“Relax, night wielder. Embrace the pain, and it will disappear. It is your right of passage.” The Healer continued, and slowly, the pain faded to be replaced by a fantastic surge of power. Black sparks played about Andumi’s frame as he staggered up, his face the very picture of wondrous joy as the power embraced him as never before. The smile faded, however, when he turned towards the Healer’s smug figure.
“I don’t care what this did to me, as long as I know that I’m more powerful. What I do care about is where you get off doing that to people. And another thing, what do you mean, a right of passage?” Andumi accused, the sparks now arcing around him in an increasing flurry as his rage built. The Healer shook its head, and pulled back its hood, revealing a young girl about 14 in age, wearing a crystal tiara with a gem that seemed to be giving off light of its own. The girl smirked, a knowing grin, and shook her head.
“You don’t know anything of the Treaty, do you? Alternatively, why your friend Senriyu’s home planet just happened to be this one? Your fate, and that of Senriyu, is inexplicably bound to my own. We are some of the last of our Orders. What you just experienced was your induction into your society’s final level of mastery. You are a Monk of the Umbra, Andumi, just as I am a Starbright Seer. Senriyu, too, has shown some aptitude to the Sisterhood, but she will need more training yet before she can endure the Trials.” The girl giggled and smiled at Andumi’s stunned reaction.
“Unfortunately, you have been self-taught, so your mastery is decidedly one sided. You can manipulate the power of the Nightside, but it does not extend into the abilities that both of our Orders share, what your ancient Maesters called the Skills of the Penumbra. It’s too bad, really, because it means that I will be forced to teach you everything that you can handle, due to the fact that the last Umbrite Maester was killed on Atrea, after the Galactic Protectorate slaughtered them.” The Seer continued, letting an aura of calming white light emerge around her body and merge with Andumi’s black lightning. Andumi struggled vainly as the light subdued his dark energy and drew closer to his body. A gray mist began to grow on the supernatural battlefield, surrounding and enveloping both Andumi and the Seer.
Andumi’s consciousness floated out of his body as he opened his telepathic frequencies, the gray mist serving to calm him and regulate his breathing. Finally, you’ve arrived. This is the Edgescape, the land between Starbright and Umbra that only emerges when our powers come together as one. I will instruct you on our histories, as well as the plight of your Order and what lies before you. Not in vain do they call us “Seers”. The voice of the Seer called out, echoing in Andumi’s mind.
We shall begin with our shared histories, and of our home planet, Atrea. Tens of thousands of years ago, the Monks of the Umbra and the Starbright Seers were formed by our gods, Reignas and Celeste. Reignas chose to construct his fortress-temple on an island in an inland sea surrounded by mountains, which was perpetually eclipsed by one of Atrea’s nine moons, Tyreian the Red. The monks who were brought to the temple drew their power from a massive crystal that was believed to have been forged by Reignas in a black hole caught between binary stars.
Celeste, on the other hand, placed her temple-palace on a continent that was perpetually under sunlight. The priestesses who dwelt there gained the power of foresight through a perfectly clear gem that absorbed and refracted the light of the stars, for it was born in the heart of a supernova.
Over time, other civilizations came to exist on the planet, most born from failed acolytes of one Order or another. The Orders allowed for coexistence between themselves, if only for swelling their respective ranks. Unfortunately, they found out that only Maesters of each Order could mate with each other and produce Chosen offspring; lesser ranks had to make do with finding non-Chosen mates to propagate with and hope for the best. Also unfortunate was the fact that the Maesters themselves never found reproducing very attractive; they were content in the connection they felt with their gods, and that was all there was to it.
And so it came to pass that the non-Chosen population exploded, and the Orders found themselves growing smaller and smaller with each passing generation. Yet they did not raise new Maesters, as many of the Order at that time were wishing, but instead, our Orders did the most prudent thing they could think of at the time, and sealed our dooms. They seized control of the planet’s budding democracy and transformed it into a massive theocratic pontiff-led government. The Monks took care of law and order planet-wide, and the Seers claimed diplomacy and social services. They thought at the time that they would be leading Atrea into a new age of prosperity, but even the Seers’ vaunted prophecy could not save them now. Over the years, resentment grew among the proletariat about having a seat of government that many citizens were not even allowed to enter, for both capitals were regarded as holy sites, and so therefore off-limits to those not of the Order. An insurgency formed, and over the years, they stockpiled a massive cache of weapons and troops, waiting for a time that we would grow complacent.
Then, one day, the fates closed their eyes on Atrea, and the gods’ presences were no longer detected in their most holy of cloisters. The Seers and Monks, panicking and frightened, fled to their temples to try to beseech the gods to return. No one knows now why they left, but the insurgents took their opportunity and took control of most of the planet, as the Monks had left their weapons behind, and had only taken the fastest transports they could. They re-instated the social services in the aftermath of the Seers’ abandonment of their people, and drafted a Constitution, reforming their ancient democracy into a Protectorate, governed by an elected Council, and headed by a President elected by the general populace. Over them were assigned a group of hereditary watchers, who were equal in power, if not in number, to the Council. This group was called the House, and eventually became the Imperial House, whose seal you see emblazoned everywhere today.
Then, their power consolidated, they began a bloody war on our people. The Seers, with their easily accessed temple-palace, were the first to be targeted by determined Atrean forces. Those who could escape fled the planet entirely, to hide out on far-flung colonies, which had not been subjugated to the rule of the Chosen, and therefore had no quarrel with them. Those who could not escape in time instead retreated to the fortress-temple of their brothers, the Monks of the Umbra. Atrean forces soon followed, and thus followed one of the most tragic tales in our histories: The Siege of Umbra.
It lasted for forty-two years, and many lives were lost on both sides. Few, if any, of the Monks made it out alive. Some ancient texts tell of the fates of the great crystals, the sources of our Orders’ powers. The Starbright Seers were said to have taken theirs with them when they retreated to Umbra, and the Monks who were captured committed ritual suicide when interrogated about the fate of their dark gem. I believe that the gods gave our Orders a final redemption before their total destructions, and that my tiara and your circlet are, in fact, the great powers themselves, disguised and compacted to make detection more difficult. I also believe that at some point, near the end of the siege, the Monks surely knew they could not last out forever, and so created a massive diversion, allowing a pair of small ships to escape with the great powers before the fall of the Temple.
Those ships carried the last of our Maesters, and a few acolytes who showed promise, away from the certain deaths of their brothers and sisters. However, let it be known that our kind bought their lives dearly. Ancient Atrean texts also describe the final assault on the Temple’s innermost cloister, with detail. The texts seem particularly enamored with the Monks, who flung themselves into the fray in a state not unlike that of a berserker unleashing their shadow magic to great effect on the Atrean forces. The Seers, too, aided where they could, healing wounded Monks and even taking command of the anti-air guns and heavy artillery when their Monk defenders fell. Ultimately, though, they were overcome through superior numbers and a determined foe. Many of the Monks were slain outright: they were just too dangerous to keep alive in their battle-enraged states. The Seers, however, were a different problem entirely. Many discerning commanders took as many of them as they could prisoner. I can only hope that those lost Sisters did not lose faith in Celeste before death. Many of them, however, were recorded as taking mates from among the conquerors, if only to ensure their own survivals. I believe a strain of Starbright Seers still lives in a mixture of captivity and command among the Imperial House and Council on Atrea. The truth about the fates of our Orders never made it beyond the orbit of Atrea; the Protectorate soon spewed a pack of propaganda saying that the Monks and Seers had mysteriously abandoned Atrea to seek enlightenment and a deeper connection with their gods in the far reaches of the Galaxy. I…believe that is enough, for tonight. Events back on Terra now require our attention, Brother Monk. We shall return to this state every night from now on to resume your instruction. The voice of the Seer faded away, and the mists retreated. Andumi sensed the power retreat to the safety of his crystal, as well as that of the Seer’s.
Andumi felt his consciousness returning to his body, and he fell onto the ground and stared unblinkingly at the grass in shock and sorrow, not even noticing the fact that it was now night and Senriyu had woken up and had her plasma cannon trained on the Healer/Seer’s figure. A bandage was wrapped around her leg, which, luckily, was still intact and had avoided infection.
“What did you do to him, you conniving bitch?!” Senriyu nearly shouted, being only able to see the mists retreat and reveal an unresponsive Andumi collapse to the ground, and a smug girl withdrawing them.
“An acolyte does not speak that way to her Maester, Senriyu.” The Seer replied coolly, incensing Senriyu into a deeper rage. She stepped forward threateningly and extended the barrel several inches in the Seers direction. The Seer merely shrugged and procured a thin, narrow blade from somewhere within the folds of her cloak, holding it loosely by her side. The blade was enough to cool Senriyu’s rage somewhat, but only long enough for her to take the time to raise the power level from two to five; there was now enough plasma ready to be unleashed to destroy a large starfighter.
“What are you talking about? Tell me what you did to him, or there will not be enough of you left to fill the thimble of protozoa, even if they had the thumbs to go with them!” Senriyu continued, still training her sights on the Seer. The Seer merely curtsied slightly and discarded her cloak, leaving her in a pure white jumpsuit.
“Of course. You have not been inducted yet, like Andumi, so I will just have to tell you now. You are a prime candidate to become a Starbright Seer, Senriyu Hayate. I am the last living Maester Seer that exists in the whole of the Galaxy. Andumi is newly raised, but he is now the last living Maester Monk of the Umbra; Reignas and Celeste gave each other’s Maesters the ability to raise others of their respective orders. Alas, you know nothing of the gods, so I will not pursue that matter for now. What I will tell you is my name: I am Maester Coraivondylla Treis du Allarvoldya. For the purpose of simplicity, and my dislike of long names, I will permit you to refer to me as Cora. Just Cora. Is this understood?” Cora addressed Senriyu in a firm tone that belied her age. It helped that she was also weaving an old Order technique, the gift of hypnotic suggestion, into her speech. Senriyu visibly cooled at the pronouncement and powered down her weapon. Cora beamed. “Good girl. Nice to know you know how to follow orders. Now, I want you to get back in bed and rest up some more. You will drive the other Healers crazy if you are that determined to try to kill yourself again. Andumi will be fine; all he needs is some time to come to grips with the truth of his responsibility as the last Monk of the Umbra.” Cora continued, and Senriyu returned to her bed and lounged back, occasionally looking at Andumi with worry. Cora walked off out of sight of the heroes and fell asleep on the grass, unconsciously proceeding to beat up a very hungry python that tried to get an easy, fresh meal. Andumi did not emerge from his trance until the next morning.
