Home
Portal
Latest images
Register
Log in
(Insert fanfare here!)
Ta-da! I hath completed Chapter 6 of The Grand Creation. It's very long, I know: In fact it weighs in at over 5,100 words. While I'm camping with my Boy Scout troop (I will be gone all day tomorrow, 8/20/11), you guys can edit and tweak and whatnot; I have the original file still on my computer, so it's no big deal if you guys mangle up this chapter.
However, I would like the majority of heavy editing to hold off until drafts of earlier chapters are posted; this way we can edit not just to polish this chapter, but to make sure it fits with the rest of the story. Flow is a very big thing to worry about when writing, especially when a group of writers are writing individual chapters independently.
So, enjoy, edit, and when I get back on Sunday I'll help out some more.
Ta-da! I hath completed Chapter 6 of The Grand Creation. It's very long, I know: In fact it weighs in at over 5,100 words. While I'm camping with my Boy Scout troop (I will be gone all day tomorrow, 8/20/11), you guys can edit and tweak and whatnot; I have the original file still on my computer, so it's no big deal if you guys mangle up this chapter.
However, I would like the majority of heavy editing to hold off until drafts of earlier chapters are posted; this way we can edit not just to polish this chapter, but to make sure it fits with the rest of the story. Flow is a very big thing to worry about when writing, especially when a group of writers are writing individual chapters independently.
So, enjoy, edit, and when I get back on Sunday I'll help out some more.
- Spoiler:
- The Grand Creation
Chapter 6
For all Ackar knew, time could have stopped upon his entrance into the control room.
With a hiss, the door closed behind him, sealing off the storage room, beyond which was the underground tunnel entrance through which he had just come.
The main lights were off; only the flashing lights on the control board were on, illuminating Invidior and Osavus’s faces in an array of shadows and highlights that shifted every second. The Great Beings’ eyes, wide in surprise, glinted oddly in the multicolored glow.
As did the Elder’s. His back pressing against the wall, his hands grasped Invidior’s, trying to pull them off his throat; he tried to say something, but whatever words were in his mind came out his mouth as strangled grunts.
He was struggling for his life.
Something inside Ackar snapped.
If time had stopped, it started up again as his sword swung out of its sheath and came to rest in his right hand, its blade hovering centimeters off the cold metal floor, as cold as Ackar’s heart, cold as the blood surely running through Invidior and Osavus’s bodies. But flames seemed to run through Ackar’s.
“What on Spherus Magna,” he growled, “is going on?”
He heard a rush of footsteps from behind and glanced back: Galintin, Rohkea, Raanu, Pomerax, and a cloaked being Ackar didn’t recognize emerged from the main entrance. The security team’s emotions, mixtures of shock and confusion, were obvious even through the odd, dim, flickering lighting. But this was neither the time for greeting nor for explanations, and Ackar turned back to the Great Beings, repeating the question, more forcefully this time:
“What’s — going — on?”
“The Elder...” Invidior’s hands slipped away from the Elder, who slid down the wall into a sitting position and gladly took in air. “It... it was all his fault,” the words flooded out, “his fault for firing me from the project, thinking I couldn’t handle it, when he couldn’t even construct a stable POWER SOURCE!”
The yell sent shock rippling through the air, an explosion of emotion almost tangible. Ackar winced, but he didn’t back down: He did the opposite, taking a step forward, sword raised warningly. The blade shook in the air; Ackar hadn’t realized it, but he was shivering. From the chill, dead air in the building, or fear?
He next realized he didn’t want to answer that question.
“Invidior, you — you’re overreacting—”
“NO!”
Invidior was mad. He’d gone off the deep end, spent an hour too much in the sun, sold his brain to a Spikit — any of those Spherus Magnan expressions. They all came out to the same thing.
Even his whisper wavered, shook, like it was far too laced with emotion for the Great Being to control it: “He... he disregarded me — threw me aside, like I was another piece of trashy blueprints... all because he wanted the recognition. He didn’t want me, poor, stupid, non-charismatic Invidior, in his path to massive publicity. Well, he doesn’t DESERVE IT, THE FILTHY SCARABAX!
“And then — oh, here’s the kicker — he invited me back. He knew he couldn’t control the energy source without me, my experience with that sort of thing.” Invidior’s breath came in gasps, shallow ones. Between two a noise surfaced; a dry sob? “I fixed the problem. He pushed me aside.” A shaky finger raised to point accusingly at the Elder. “And... and then... He threw me back out. Said I was too ‘unstable’, ‘not suited to power.’”
Without warning he spun; his foot swung around, connecting solidly with the Elder’s stomach. He gasped, fell to the ground with a thump.
Not a soul moved.
Invidior turned back around, ignoring the Elder’s face, twisted in pain. “And right after that, he realized he couldn’t keep calling me back whenever he encountered a roadblock to... to fame. The solutions I’d discovered to keeping the power source stable only worked for a short amount of time. And so the ungrateful spawn of sand stalkers sent an agent to steal my blueprints — MINE! — because he just didn’t want to put his own pitiful needs aside.”
Suddenly Invidior let out a mad laugh, almost a giggle; it sent a chill down Ackar’s spine, for here, he knew, was undisputable proof of the Great Being’s madness.
“Varonis!” he cried.
Varonis paused in confusion. The four Glatorian behind him paused, too, half-hidden within the shadows of the control room’s entrance.
All this time the control board’s lights continued to blink.
“Come here, Varonis.” He sounded calmer now, but still his voice shook, like it took an effort for him to seem civilized. He teetered forward, holding out a hand in an oddly welcoming gesture.
The Agori hesitated. Uncertainty gleamed in his eyes.
“Come!” barked Invidior.
Frightened now, Varonis darted forward, giving the security team a wide berth, and to Invidior’s side. Ackar did nothing to stop him. The four Glatorian followed more slowly, taking up positions by the back wall; without words all those present knew they didn’t want to be a part of this conflict.
No one present could blame them.
So quickly a blink would have concealed the movement, Invidior’s hand shot out and grasped Varonis’s arm. He pulled the Agori against his side. Varonis grimaced at the pressure.
“Let go,” said the Elder suddenly, rising up.
Varonis blanched.
Invidior shook his head like he was trying to rid himself of a flying insect.
“It’s all up.” The Great Being shook his head. “It’s all up, and there’s not a thing you can do about it, you little scarabax, you.”
That perturbing calmness was still in his voice, even beneath his insults. The Elder seemed to ignore how Invidior was talking down at him; still grimacing, he repeated, “Let go.”
“Why should I?”
“Varonis... he told me about you two. I knew you and Osavus would do something rash and foolish and none too smart — it’s how you are — and Varonis confirmed it.”
Invidior’s eyes widened, not in shock, but in rage. “Varonis...?”
“And here he was,” the Elder continued, “working for you the whole time!”
Ackar could have sworn he saw Varonis’s mouth move behind his helmet in a series of curses. The Fire Glatorian had a sudden impression of the Agori walking along a tightrope spanning a chasm of spikes. Pity for the Fire Agori might have emerged then, but he had ordered Ackar beaten up just hours ago, for which the Fire Glatorian still held a grudge.
But the revelation still hung in the air.
The shadows of doubt blanketed everyone in the room; they pressed down on Ackar’s shoulders, making it hard to breathe: The air felt so dead. Indecisiveness loomed over him. What could he do?
Come on, Ackar told himself. You know who’s at fault — all of them! Just — just attack and get it overwith...
But he couldn’t. They were Great Beings. And “Great” wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment prefix they had added on just so they would not be plain old “Beings”. Their powers were beyond his; he couldn’t hope to compete on an equal level.
“Varonis, you told the Elder?” Invidior asked, his tone deceptively gentle, like the proverbial honey luring scarabax to their doom.
“I — I...”
The other members of the security team, Galintin, Raanu, and Pomerax, had stepped up beside Ackar to the right, as if to comfort him with their presence. Rohkea stepped to his left; there was fire alight in her eyes, but it was confused, flickering in and out. She gripped his hand as if seeking comfort. He squeezed back.
“It’ll be all right,” he whispered to her.
“I don’t know,” she replied slowly.
Then he noticed the cloaked being just as close to Rohkea as Rohkea was to Ackar. But he — or was it a she? — seemed as focused on the Great Beings as Ackar was.
Invidior’s gaze seemed to bore a hole in Varonis’s skull, like he could see straight through the Fire Agori and didn’t like what he saw. “Answer me.”
Varonis mumbled something incoherent.
“ANSWER ME!” roared Invidior, grabbing Varonis by the neck and lifting him effortlessly a meter off the ground.
“Y-yes,” he squeaked.
And his eyes widened in cautious surprise when Invidior lowered him onto the floor again. “That’s all I wanted to know,” said the Great Being, his voice smooth as ice.
Varonis nodded. “Of... of course, Invidior,” he said; his voice strengthened as he regained control over his tone. “Yes. Well, then.”
He took a step.
In that split-second Ackar saw the glint of silver slip from Invidior’s belt to Varonis’s chest. Rohkea’s hand tightened uncomfortably over Ackar’s in the same split-second, and the Fire Glatorian knew she saw it, too.
Varonis stumbled, fell to his knees, and hit the ground roughly on his left side. The dagger’s dull, wooden hilt still protruded from his chest. His eyes were wide, but their natural glow had faded out; unseeing, they stared toward the security team and beyond, to infinity, perhaps oblivion.
Rohkea’s hand slipped out of Ackar’s. The next second it had drawn a double-ended spear, pointing one end at Invidior. The other Glatorian drew their weapons likewise.
Invidior looked up from Varonis’s body. “Fools,” he whispered, so quiet they had to strain to hear him. “You dare to stand against a Great Being?”
“Yeah, it’s stupid,” Ackar agreed. “But this situation falls under our job description.”
A second later and he was running across the room, sword raised. A meter from Invidior he leapt, swinging his sword down in a vicious arc aimed for the Great Being’s head.
Somehow, Invidior ducked under the blow and backed away without a scratch. As Ackar’s feet hit the ground with a clang, Varonis’s henchmen advanced on the security team. Osavus backed away into a corner. Good, thought Ackar; one less person to fight.
He noticed the cloaked being slip through the Glatorian and Agori to the Elder, and wondered.
The next second the room exploded into chaos.
As one the four Glatorian ran to the security team, weapons swinging wildly. Raanu and Pomerax were forced back by the largest of the attackers, who wielded a mace with unnatural accuracy. Ackar caught a glimpse of Galintin and Rohkea moving to protect the Agori, countered by two other, smaller, faster Glatorian.
Then a hook-blade sliced through the air before his face. He jerked back, dancing clear, getting a good look at the Glatorian attacking him: tall and slim, dark armor, hook-blade attachments on lower arms. What was his name again? Right: Silex, Varonis had called him back in Osavus and Invidior’s compound.
The hook-blades came at Ackar again in a series of quick blows; in instinct the Fire Glatorian twisted and spun his sword in more ways than he had thought possible.
Blow to the lower-right; he twisted his blade downwards and to the left. Clang! Upper-left, middle-right; his sword spun twice to block both blows. A chorus of clangs rose into the air, one for every block Ackar made.
“You’re as good as dead, you know,” said Silex, his foot coming round out of the gloom — too late Ackar moved his sword — to connect with Ackar’s skull.
The blow rattled the Fire Glatorian’s helmet and sent him reeling backwards. As the hook-blade Glatorian came toward him, he rolled onto his feet and threw his sword up to block another blow.
“Silent one, eh?” The question was punctuated with a grunt as he swung his right hook-blade down. Ackar held his sword vertically, letting the hook-blade slide down and away, then swung up and forward. Silex leapt back, barely in time; Ackar’s blade left a long, shallow scratch in his lower body armor. “Of course; the silent ones always have little secrets. Who taught you how to swing a blade?”
Ackar still didn’t speak. He didn’t trust himself to hold back the curses on his tongue.
He thrust forward with his sword tip. The other Glatorian danced around the blow, swung his left hook-blade around Ackar’s right leg, pulled — Ackar felt his right foot leave the floor and fell heavily onto his back. The control board’s lights kept on flashing in his peripheral vision, like they wanted to distract him.
Above his unfocused eyes the shadows parted to reveal his opponent’s face, twisted in a leer beneath his helmet. “What’s the matter? Spikit got your tongue?”
Ackar replied by throwing his hands back, pushing himself — and his outstretched foot — up and into the attacker’s gut. A gasp was forced out of Silex’s mouth as he flew backwards.
Clang! The attacker hit the floor, rolled over, and laid there, stunned. He did not get up.
For good measure, Ackar struck Silex’s head with the flat of his blade. Hard. No sense in holding back, his grudge told him.
“Ackar! A little help?”
Rohkea? — the others!
Ackar spun. Galintin was holding his own against two Glatorian — Ferveon? Avarus? — with some help from Raanu and Pomerax, but Rohkea was having trouble avoiding Robur’sblows — yes, Robur, that was right.
With a yell, Ackar ran back into the fray.
* * *
To the Elder.
She slipped between the combatants effortlessly, like a shadow hiding in shadows. Now that, she thought, was interesting wordplay.
To Protasious.
She reached him, grabbed his arm questioningly. He looked up and nodded; but then his eyes widened, focusing on something behind her.
She turned. Invidior met her gaze coolly.
“Go,” she told the Elder out of the corner of her mouth.
He nodded and began making his way around the edge of the fight, along the walls, hugging them like they were lifelines.
Then she turned back to Invidior, drawing twin swords and holding them at diagonals to her body, rigid with determination. “You can’t win. I’ve been trained by the best.”
“Other Great Beings?” Invidior laughed. “Sure, let’s call them ‘the best.’ And while we’re at it, we’ll say that spikits are nice little devils and scarabax can swim — in Bara Magna.”
“You talk too much,” she said, and struck.
* * *
It was in the middle of the fight when Osavus realized no one was going after him.
Their swords swung through the air madly, glittering in the multicolored lights of the control board, setting the scene ablaze with a rainbow of silvery blurs. Thus far, despite Silex being downed, the two forces seemed evenly matched.
Served the Elder right, thought Osavus.
Then he saw the Elder was gone. Invidior faced off against a smaller being — another Glatorian, probably one of the Elder’s agents — and, oddly enough, he was losing.
Osavus had only seconds to act.
He fumbled through his pouch for a moment, felt the refreshing cool touch of metal, and pulled out the data card. It took but a second to locate the data port on the control board; after all, Osavus had helped design it. He rammed it in.
The blank screen suddenly lit up. Download Files? it asked.
Osavus clicked on Yes.
The window closed. Another window popped up with a different message: SD_Install.pg is requesting permission to change important files. Allow?
Again the Great Being hit Yes.
And then the progress bar came up.
Running SD_Install.pg... Installation progress: 10%.
Then 15%.
And then 20%.
Meanwhile there was the matter of the robot outside to take care of. Osavus hit a switch, flicking on another screen that didn’t light up; it showed a shadowy view of the gigantic robot outside. Truly, it was an amazing creation. At least, it would have been.
A pity it had to be destroyed.
He lifted the cover over the switch that would disengage the leg clamps. Paused. Wondered, Should I really do this?
The shadows, enveloping his shoulders and back in darkness, quietly awaited his decision.
He didn’t leave them waiting.
* * *
There was a sudden rumbling. The entire room shook madly, throwing the combatants off-balance. Over it all Rohkea heard Ackar swearing madly and Invidior laughing with glee; letting out a silent few choice words of her own, she moved closer to the Fire Glatorian and Galintin.
“What’s going on?” she asked the Iron Glatorian.
His mouth moved, but the shaking continued, throwing up a ceaseless rattling that deafened everyone in the room.
“What?”
“I said, a part of the robot must be falling!”
She checked, ran over the older Glatorian’s words again. Yes, he had definitely sounded fearful. That was a bad thing, coming from Galintin.
Suddenly she realized Varonis’s henchmen were gone.
The next moment Osavus was leaving, too, slamming through the Glatorian and Agori roughly with Invidior close behind. The cloaked Glatorian let out an antagonized cry — her voice was definitely feminine, Rohkea realized, and oddly familiar — and she ran after the two Great Beings, stumbling all the way.
She had almost reached Invidior before he turned around, his eyes lit up with an odd light. “Let us see whom the Elder taught to challenge Great Beings, he scoffed, and grasped her cloak and pulled it off before Casiria could lift one of her swords; for it was, indeed, Casiria.
Rohkea gasped. Ackar and Galintin seemed stunned. Raanu and Pomerax seemed a step beyond that.
Invidior struck. Casiria flew backward, victim of a powerful kick to the chest, and the mad Great Being spun through the doorway into the corridor outside. “I’ll be sure to tell the Elder just how his agent business worked out for him!” he cried over his shoulder as the control room’s door slammed shut.
Casira ran to it, pounded her swords against the unyielding metal, yelling at the top of her lungs. It would not open for that, nor for the earthquake in miniature that now rocked the compound, nor for the fear that bubbled up inside those trapped, feeling for all the world like that fear would burst them open.
They were trapped.
Casiria slid down the door; her hands, still curled into fists, rested against the metal in a gesture of angered resignation. “No...”
“We can’t die here,” Raanu insisted, spinning around in search of an exit, stumbling as the tremors increased in amplitude. “We — we can’t!”
Galintin, for his part, looked furious. Yet he did nothing. “It happens,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else, “to all of us... eventually. At least” — he pointed to the computer screen, where a bright 3:30 shone, gradually ticking downward — “we’ll know when.”
“But that doesn’t make it any better,” Ackar pointed out.
Galintin sighed, curled his legs up and rested his elbow atop his knees, leaned his head onto his palms in frustration. “No.”
Pomerax had run over to the control board upon Galintin’s pointing toward it. He was running his gaze across the control board frantically. “I — I don’t know how to stop it!”
A thought dawned on Rohkea then. “All the people here... working on the robot... Will they—?”
“We can’t do anything, Rohkea,” Ackar said. “Put it out of your mind.”
“That doesn’t make it any better,” she echoed the Fire Glatorian’s earlier words.
He sighed but said nothing.
Tears built up under Rohkea’s eyes, hot with anger. She let them fall; they slid down her cheeks, leaving salty streaks of moisture behind. She couldn’t do anything about them. Not about her life either.
“S-so we’re... just going to die?”
No.
“What?” she asked.
Ackar raised a questioning eyebrow. “What?”
“Didn’t — didn’t you say something?”
Confused, Ackar shook his head.
Rohkea! Listen to me!
“H-hold on.” Rohkea stumbled across the room to the back wall. Once there she leaned her back against the wall. Her eyes gazed in the general direction of Pomerax, still searching for the buttons that would save them; somehow, she knew he wouldn’t.
“O-okay,” she mumbled to the air, “I’m... I’m listening.” And hoping I’m not insane, she added to herself.
I am the Great Being Angonce. I helped design the facility you are now trapped in. Don’t fret! — for Rohkea had started to lose control of her fear, listening to her heart pound in her eardrums — You can escape. Well... most of you.
Something caught in Rohkea’s throat; she couldn’t form the words, and so, she tried reaching out with her thoughts, toward the contact with her mind: C-can you hear me?
Yes, Rohkea.
What — what does “most of you” mean...?
It means... well, I feel horrible saying it, but it means one of you must sacrifice him- or herself for the good of the others. There is a switch, on the other side of the room from the secret entrance I believe Ackar came through. Someone must hold it down to leave the entrance into the storage room open. That someone will not make it out themselves.
That’s — cruel! How could you design something like—!?
There isn’t much time. The thoughts came faster now, like jumbled-up puzzle pieces that Rohkea had to sort out on-the-spot. I know, and I am ashamed of it, but a Great Being would be able to hold the switch with his mind until he was through the doorway. We, well, never believed Glatorian or Agori would be stuck in the control room in the event of a lockdown. They were never supposed to be in there, you see.
Um...
I would hold the lever for you, or teleport in to save you myself, but we designed the complex to be power-proof so no Great Beings could steal our technologies — yes, I know what you’re thinking, and it is entirely possible: A powerful enough, concentrated enough magnetic field can block our mental powers. I can barely get these thoughts through to you. Now, Rohkea, hurry and escape! I feel there isn’t much time!
The contact faded behind the tremors of scaffolding and gigantic robot parts falling to the ground outside. Rohkea opened her eyes, and a second later realized they had been closed. Feeling confused, she glanced at the monitor: 3:00. Her breath caught. Somehow, she had held a minutes-long conversation inside her head within the space of several seconds.
She cleared her throat. “Okay,” she said cautiously. “Um, guys?”
The tremors roared over her voice.
She took a deep breath and, defying her nervousness and fluttering heart, yelled, “EVERYONE! Please, LISTEN!”
They stopped, doing their best to steady themselves amidst the shaking. All looking at her. The Ice Glatorian gulped, feeling the heat build up behind her mask. Heat wasn’t something she was accustomed to. She was from the Northern Frost. It flustered her, jumbling the words on her tongue.
“I... um...”
“What is it, Rohkea?” questioned Ackar.
“Tell us!” Raanu cried. His gaze was frantic.
Casiria said nothing. She turned her head to meet Rohkea’s gaze; somehow, the dull hopelessness in her eyes jolted Rohkea into action.
“Okay, this, this Angonce person — I mean, Great Being — he, um, contacted me, right?”
She paused. Ackar nodded to her. “Go on.”
“So” — the words came out of their own accord, rushing over her companions like a refreshing breeze — “we can escape. But, only if someone pulls a switch on the side of the room opposite from wherever Ackar entered.”
Ackar pointed to the cleverly-concealed doorway in one corner of the room; its edges were hidden easily in the heavy gloom. “There.”
Everyone turned to the other corner of the room, where Pomerax, in his haste, had turned back to the control board.
His fingers momentarily brushed a switch. Rohkea glanced from one corner to the other.
“Pomerax!”
The Water Agori paused at Rohkea’s voice. “What—?”
“Out of the way,” she said, moving to the control board. Yes, this was the switch all right. Tentatively, like it might bite her if she made a sudden movement, she wrapped her fingers around the cool pastic.
Immediately, as she had expected her to do, Casiria ran forward. “No!” Her fiery tone made Rohkea flinch, but she did not back down. “We won’t leave you, darn it!”
“I want to do this, Casiria.” Her mind was made up, and with that, her voice was calm. Knowing the inevitable was coming could change a person. Rohkea was no exception.
“I won’t let you!”
“Go!” Rohkea cried, pushing Casiria away from her. The Sand Glatorian backed away, staring intently at Rohkea as though the Ice Glatorian were alien to her. Rohkea wondered if Casiria could see her tears.
“Sorry,” said Rohkea.
And she pulled the switch.
Raanu was the first through the doorway; Galintin entered on the Agori’s heels, Pomerax behind; and finally Ackar went through, pulling a rebellious Casiria along, keeping up a steady stream of comforting words. The sight opened a chasm in Rohkea’s heart. Ackar had been a good friend. So had Galintin, and Raanu, and Pomerax, and — of course — Casiria. What would life be like without Rohkea? Would they lament her loss every day for the rest of their lives? Or would they someday forget her and be free of the guilt the memory would cause them?
Somehow, neither future seemed desirable.
Just as Casiria had moved into the shadows beyond the doorway, the compound shook again.
CRASH!
Something pressed into Rohkea’s back, driving her to her knees — her hand slipped unwillingly off the switch as she fell over, something striking her legs hard, something heavy — she caught a glimpse of the timer, 2:45, just before more metal fell between her and the control board—
The shadows were pierced.
Starlight wafted through a hole in the ceiling above, a hole too high for her to reach even if she could stand. It was an oddly peaceful sight compared to the rubble and shaking; freedom was so, so close. But just beyond her reach. Like everything else in life.
This, Rohkea decided, would be her last sight.
“Good-bye,” she murmured to the night sky.
And then another voice cut through the ringing in her ears: “Rohkea, send that ‘good-bye’ to the sands of Bara Magna for all I care!”
At first she thought she’d imagined the voice. She turned her head, the only part of her body she could move; Casiria had leapt over a large chunk of metal, probably a part of the Great Beings’ robot, and was making her way towards her friend. A hallucination?
“Rohkea!” Casiria leapt over a metal strut to reach Rohkea. She grabbed her friend’s hand tightly, just for a moment, as if to say I’m here.
No. Rohkea wasn’t hallucinating.
“What...? But how...?”
Casira pushed away a large piece of metal trapping Rohkea’s legs. Her eyes glimmered with moisture. “I can’t let you throw away your life just because you don’t think it’s worth much,” she told Rohkea in her most forceful tone yet. “You’re a Glatorian, and you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Don’t throw it away!”
“But — but you—”
“Oh, come off it!” Casiria pulled Rohkea to her feet. “Come on, you can walk, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“Shut up.” Despite the words’ face value Rohkea couldn’t stop her face splitting into a weak smile as Casiria helped her over the wreckage. This was the Casiria Rohkea had known for so long: forceful, determined to reach her own goals and just as determined to help Rohkea reach hers.
“Now go!” cried Casiria, running back to the switch. She grabbed it, pulled it down roughly.
The door slid halfway open and stopped, jammed; several sparks flew from the top of the doorway, briefly illuminating the surrounding wreckage in dim orange before flickering into nonexistence. Rohkea got onto her hands and knees and crawled through the gap, into the now-empty storage room. But first she turned back. In the corner of her eye she saw the time: 2:01. Enough time to escape, she thought. But Casiria!
“Casiria — you don’t have to do this!”
“You don’t understand,” Casiria shot back. “All your life you’ve hated yourself. This is my way of telling you not to be so timid.” Slowly, tentatively, a smile dawned on her face, underneath her helmet. “’Sides,” she said, “I’ve always been the one looking out for you. I guess this’ll force you into looking out for yourself.” And she let out a little bark of laughter.
“It’s not funny!” said Rohkea.
“I know,” Casiria called back; Rohkea could practically hear the Sand Glatorian rolling her eyes. “But it makes me feel better.”
Rohkea didn’t laugh as she ran through the escape tunnel. From behind her came the hiss-clang of the door closing, echoing off the metallic walls.
She couldn’t say good-bye aloud; she needed the air in her lungs. But she could think the farewell.
Good-bye, Casiria.
* * *
Rohkea had just emerged from the exit carved out of the rock when the building abruptly blew up, a humongous orange fireball against the velvet background of space.
A second later the BOOM reached the assembled beings, loud enough, bass-driven enough to override their heartbeats for a split-second. A rush of heat and a brief flicker of flame escaped the tunnel exit beside them; Rohkea hurriedly jumped away. The momentary orange glow was caught on wet streaks below her eyes.
The work-in-progress robot behind the complex, visible only as a shadow against the night sky, shook in time with the explosion; the last parts of its right leg fell to the ground with a chorus of booms heard faintly even from this far away, and its body teetered but thankfully stayed upright and intact.
A pity the same could not be said for those within the control complex, below the small hill Angonce, Heremus, and the security team stood on.
The shadows of wreckage flew across the Fire Tribe’s city; some flew up to where the team stood; they backed away behind the Great Beings, who, with their mental powers, constructed shields to deflect the superheated rubble. There were silent cries from the village below, silent because of the distance between origin and receiver. Several fires sprang from the darkness, but they were small and put out quickly.
Thank goodness no more harm had been caused.
How had it happened? Angonce didn’t know. But he could guess. Osavus — that wily little scarabax — had surely rerouted the majority of power into room containing backup copies of the robot’s power source. With the cooling system turned off, the molecules within would become more reactive. The increased magnetic fields would tear electrons from the various atoms, ionizing the molecules, which would then react... rather violently.
Then again, “rather violently” was most definitely an understatement.
“I’m... sorry we couldn’t stop them,” Ackar said into the heavy, shadowy silence.
Angonce nodded gravely. “It’s all right; considering they were Great Beings, you did what you could. And the Elder escaped.”
“But still...”
“Hundreds died.” Heremus, his voice hoarser than usual. He crossed his top pair of arms in frustration. His bottom pair waved wildly about as he spoke. “Died, in cold blood! How could Osavus and Invidior do such a thing!?”
For a minute the question hung in the air, unanswered. Then:
“Treason,” Angonce murmured, “exists in some form, whether passive or active, recognizable or not, within all species. From a book I wrote a few hundred thousand years back, give or take a few decades, about universal laws of psychology for species. Remember, Heremus?”
Heremus didn’t reply.
No one did.
Time could have stopped then and there and Angonce would not have known.
Last edited by Legolover-361 on 18th September 2011, 12:28 pm; edited 2 times in total
