Chapter 14

Familiar winds howled through a familiar forest…Paul knew this wasn’t his first visit. The same freezing temperatures chilled to the bone and the same decrepit trees hung overhead, jagged silhouettes against the cloudy sky above. Electricity ran through the air, thick and hard to breathe. Worst of all, the sense of being watched was present, but far more potent than before, like someone breathing down his neck, but every time Paul wound around, there was nothing but forest.

Heartbeat racing, Paul resorted back to reaching out with his powers, but only horror came of it: though nobody was around, he could not help but feel he had found a loved one dead on the floor. He stared intensely into the darkness where he knew the body lay, reaching out with a hand only when his eyes failed him. But the ground gave way to a black pit. Bizarrely, Paul felt no fear as he fell blindly into the abyss. Instead, he was inexplicably reminded of the fury of fighting Progenitor Dusk, melancholy for his soldiers’ deaths, hatred for Emperor Reyleonard’s betrayal. Emotions meshed, overwhelming like ceaseless hurricane winds scalding flesh from bone. Hatred dominated all other thoughts; Paul could not resist the barbaric instinctual desire to kill; he had to kill, his body and mind demanded it.

CRACK! Paul’s freefall abruptly stopped as his body smashed into the ground, bones snapped, and he screamed in agony. No reprieve awaited him in this dimly lit dungeon. A hooded figure dressed in flowing black robes slowly approached. Paul knew he had to get away, the way a flofawn runs from a terror panther, pure self-preservation instinct. He dug his fingers into the mud to crawl, but movement was impossible, an invisible force pressed down with crushing weight.

The hooded figure reached down and touched Paul, which triggered such devastating fear that it permeated every living cell, causing them to scream in terror. The creature then spoke in an icy whisper, “I’ve seen you here…I had no choice.”

Paul jerked up in his cot, drenched in a cold sweat, screaming. Eyes wide, he quickly surveyed the dark room and found two green orbs floating in the corner. Without thinking, he snatched his pistol from beneath his pillow, pointed it to the corner, but he didn’t shoot; some echo of sanity resonated within him, staying his trigger finger. Switching on the lights revealed Ramona sitting in the corner, her eyes stunned and wide, her hands raised in surrender.

Dropping his sidearm on the bed, Paul checked the time: four standard in the middle of the night. He wiped the sweat from his cold brow and realized for the first time that his breathing was panicked. Slowly he brought himself under control.

“What are you doing here?” Paul demanded as he got out his cot and walked over to the cockpit window. “I could have shot you!”

“I’m sorry-“ Ramona said, without so much as a flinch. She lowered her arms, settling them in her lap “-I just couldn’t sleep, I guess. You’ve been thrashing around in your sleep; that must have been one horrible nightmare.”

Paul grunted, rubbing his pounding head with shaking hands. His heart still thumped. After a long moment, he found the will to speak with relative coolness. “That was no dream. It was a vision…the strongest one I’ve ever had.” He spoke slowly, still unsure if what had just happened was possible at all. “I had one similar to it while I was in Kanchi’s orbit, but it wasn’t nearly as powerful then.”

“Vision?”

Paul grimaced, “how did you even get in here? The loading ramp and hatches are locked.”

She just shrugged. “Same way I got into your sword case. Actually, getting in here was a lot easier.”

Olasqy’s ship, the Intrepid, must have been more poorly maintained than it originally looked from the outside. It had already failed a multitude of standard Tuyet Voi inspection checks; better loading ramp locks would be added to the long list of necessary improvements. “Little girl, you cannot simply come barging in here as you please. I require my sleep.”

“Hey!” Ramona began looking annoyed. “I didn’t even wake you up; it was that vision you were talking about.”

Drowsy, agitated, cold, hungry, annoying little girl; Kanchi was a different kind of warzone that Academy training did not prepare its candidates for. “Begone, young one. I’ll stop by your shop later to pick up the Cathedral data your drone gathered,” Paul said as he pressed the loading ramp release. It began to open but shut back on itself. “What the-how did you do that?”

“Oh- c’mon, please just tell me about the visions! Then I promise I will leave.” Ramona stared up, her bright green eyes burned with curiosity.

Paul was not used to seeing that look, maybe sometimes from new recruits under his command; those recruits were usually smart enough or scared enough to keep their mouths shut. No, the only looks Paul ever received from young girls were teary-eyed, scared, dirtied-face as they stood outside the remnants of their homes.

“I...very well. If it will get you out.” Sometimes the best option was the simplest. Paul retrieved a kettle sitting on a mini burner near his cot and poured himself a cup of steamy hot tea to wake him out of his groggy state. There was no going back to sleep now. “On occasion, Progenitors will receive visions in their sleep. We tend to get these premonitions when others plot to kill us. We see hazy details of their plan of attack.” He hesitated, instinctively repulsed by the idea of recalling the horrors he had just witnessed. “But…this was different. It defies all established logic…the things I saw, they were real as this mug in my hand.”

“Someone is planning to kill you?” Ramona asked, but not sounding very worried.

For a long minute, Paul thought about what he saw; he couldn’t not think of it, his skin crawled, and hairs on his neck stood up like needles. “No, I don’t think so.” He said finally. “I recognize that the intent to kill was there, but it wasn’t directed at me like it normally would be.” He considered his following words carefully, thinking that they’d sound crazy. But Ramona didn’t know the logic of Progenitor visions; she would agree and elaborate on anything he said regardless of how ridiculous it would sound to another Progenitor. “Well…it was as if I were feeling the emotions themselves instead of just knowing they’re there. Hatred…vengeance…sadness…so many feelings and intentions all jumbled in one amalgamation. Intense levels of malice like that could not have come from another living being.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” Paul spat, but he wasn’t really sure what to say at first. Years of travel from one corner of the galaxy to another had made him warry to plots against his life. Sometimes visions would be more intense depending on the species, but not like this. Maybe powerful minds of the valcarions? No, not even them. “…because the mightiest Progenitors could not produce such vivid imaginings. Something had to be the cause, something nearby.”

Out of the front window was a nice view of Onesto’s cityscape, the Cathedral stood tall over everything. Its sheer size made it seem closer than it actually was despite it being up in the mountains. If the girl was correct, that the structure was made out of the same metal as her bracelet, the same as the map, and the Movaj obelisk. “Perhaps it’s what I’m looking for, has to be,” Paul said as he sipped his tea.

Ramona cocked her head. “What?”

“The reason I came here in the first place... Ah- where is that blasted Olasqy when I need him?” The vision had been horrific, but it was another piece of the puzzle. Wide awake now, eyes narrowed in concentration as Paul paced around the room. He stopped. “Has your drone finished processing the survey data?”

A confused-looking Ramona stared back for a moment, “Er, yeah- it’s ready. I left Eights at the store, though.”

***

The town was just coming to life, and the sun peeked over the now glittering mountaintops as Paul and Ramona walked down the mostly empty streets. The row of buildings themselves looked as if they were asleep, holographic signs turned off, windows dark, street lamps turned off. They arrived at ‘Arts of Parts’ to find Martha helping a customer and Eights floating around organizing a pile of drone receptacles.

“Hey sweetie, look who’s here,” Martha said, waving.

A man wearing square lensed glasses and a beaming smile turned to greet the duo. “Ramona, so good to see you! Lucy’s been wondering when you’re going to come over a play again. Ah- and hi there, my name’s Roy Morrell,” he said, reaching his hand out to shake Paul’s.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Paul knew Roy by reputation only, and it was indeed quite a reputation: he was credited with dozens of major war victories, and even a handful of Master Progenitors were defeated at his hands. Respectable, even if he was Amani. It’s improbable he’d recognize Paul, however. Most Tuyet Voi Progenitors wore full concealed helmets into battle; the infamous Nefarous was no exception to that practice. He shook Roy’s hand. “Paul Tarseus, a pleasure Master Morrell.”

“Well, what do you know, not many people out here know my trade, well except for these two, of course,” he gestured at Ramona and Martha, who were all smiles.

“So, Roy. What brings you here so early?” Ramona asked as she went over to help Eights organize a spilled pile of scrap metal. “Technically, we’re not even open yet, but of course, you’re welcome any time.”

“Ah-couldn’t sleep,” he said shortly. “Figured I’d come get those ink injectors Lucy’s been asking about. I really think she has the potential to become a great artist.”

“Lucy must be your child,” Paul said, trying to act normal, though he wished he hadn’t.

Roy’s face lit up like a star, practically beside himself. “One of five!” He announced proudly. “This is Lucy, isn’t she cute! And this is Anri who has the prettiest eyes, and this is Pan who is just so adorable…” Roy went on and on swiping through portraits and family pictures on a datatab, “John here thinks he’s a tough guy, but did you know he still wets the bed? Aww I know I shouldn’t go around telling people that but…” he continued jabbering about his children for several more minutes.

Paul listened politely, though entirely nonplussed. Hopefully, someone would say something to make Roy stop.

With a big smile, Roy put away his datatab. “Sorry, I get carried away sometimes; I just love them so much…” For a moment, it seemed as if he was going to suddenly break into another rant about how Pan loved to have tea parties with her Borian dolls. “Anyhow, I do apologize for dropping in so early, Ramona. On top of those ink injectors, I was hoping to pick up a few survey probes. I could requisition some from the Amani depot, but they just aren't as good as yours.”

“Looking for someone?” Ramona asked. “Can’t imagine you’re prospecting for quarz, or some other mineral.” The scrap metal pile had been straightened up, and Ramona now offered her full attention.

“Smart as always, it’s no wonder you graduated from your schooling years in advance. If only John and Tristan would apply themselves as much as you did,” Roy said, hinging on another tangent about each of his kids’ attitudes towards education. “You’re right though, now...don’t freak out, but I have reason to suspect a rogue Progenitor landed on Kanchi not that long ago.”

Ramona turned to Paul with a big smirk on her face. “You hear that, Paul? Roy’s hunting for a Progenitor that’s not supposed to be here.”

“I heard,” Paul said, maintaining perfect composure, though he very much wanted to leave. Maybe strangle Ramona on his way out.

“Anyways-” Ramona continued, “-survey probes are okay with small crowds, but a whole planet I don’t know. They really are meant for mineral scanning.”

“Precisely! We’ll just need to calibrate them to look for cadami signatures; it’s not like the stuff is lying around all over the place, just in the core of any cadami sword. Think that’s something you could do?”

Ramona waved her hand and hissed through her teeth. “Oh, please, I could set these little guys up with my eyes closed,” Ramona said as she retrieved a couple of disc-shaped drones from a shelf. “They’ll even save processing power if they’re only looking for one kind of signature. And... there you go, they’re ready to go.”

“That easy, huh?” Roy asked, sounding excited.

“That easy. Wanna test them out?”

“Do you believe that to be wise, Ramona?” Paul chimed in, more aware of the weight of his sword beneath his cloak. “Don’t these scanners give off some radiation? I can’t imagine your mother would be too comfortable with that.”

“Oh no, please don’t let me be a bother,” Martha said, sounding somewhat embarrassed, content enough to remain quiet behind the counter.

Ramona just rolled her eyes and powered up one of the probes.

“Wow, yep, it's definitely working. These readings are going pretty crazy,” she said. “There must be so much cadami in here. Right, Paul?” She looked at Paul with a sweet smile.

Playing games with me I see. Embarrassment is what she is after? Paul would not be giving her the satisfaction.

“I imagine so,” Roy said, pulling part of his cloak away to reveal his cadami sword hanging from his hip. “Ramona, I appreciate it, and Martha, it’s always a pleasure. Paul, it was nice to meet you,” Roy said with great glee, then he began to take his leave carrying his new drones.

“Anytime, hope you catch your guy!” Ramona shouted and waved farewell.

“Don’t worry citizen, I always do! Leave it all to me, muahahaha!” Roy waved, still laughing maniacally as he closed the door and walked down the sidewalk.

Relief washed over Paul. Roy was gone, for the moment. But he was actively seeking out a Progenitor. Could it possibly be Paul? If so, how could he have known?

“Yeah, so hey don’t worry,” Ramona said nonchalantly. “I rigged them to ignore your biometric signature. So, you’re welcome.”

“Much appreciated,” said Paul shortly. “But why help me?”

“What, don’t want to be helped?” She giggled at Paul’s stoic demeanor. “Because I’m pretty sure you’re not here to hurt anyone. And besides, I’m just too curious to see what you’re up to. Speaking of which, Eights!”

The little drone stopped its tasks and hovered over to Ramona and spit out a data card.

“Here you go, as promised. It took a while because the Cathedral is so massive, but Eights always comes through for me. You know I actually stole his processor from this gangster’s supply depot.” She chuckled, reminiscing, “ah, what fun that was.”

Paul inserted the card into his datatab, it chimed approvingly, and a series of charts and numbers popped up on the screen. They detailed an analysis of the Cathedral’s composition, dimensions, as well as a check for any energy shielding there could be. “A shield caused some interference, but there should still be a good visual reference. Show playback.” Paul said, and the charts and numbers disappeared, replaced by a video feed. It was from Eights’ perspective, orbiting high above the facility’s outer walls.

Beyond the walls was a small army of soldiers, battle drones, tanks, and cannon emplacements. The soldiers were marching around the compound, no doubt a part of their daily routine. The battle drones patrolled the walls, probably doing so night and day. Tanks and the cannon emplacements were in heavily fortified permacrete bunkers built right into the hard mountain rock. There was a singular gate for the entire perimeter. The Cathedral was nothing short of a fortress.

Paul frowned, “the Amani are more dug in than I would have thought.” He turned his head slightly realizing Ramona had been looking over his shoulder watching the video.

“Good thing you’re a Progenitor, just kick down the door and start hacking away with that sword,” she said excitedly.

“There’s...” the faintest laugh slipped from Paul’s lips, “...there’s far too many for a head-on attack by myself.” He shook his head. He’d need a strike force, simple as that. The fortifications looked strong, but nothing a few well-placed bombs and a battalion of soldiers couldn’t handle.

“Call in your fleet then, call in the troops!”

“I...” He shook his head again. “I have no fleet, not anymore.” The sting of being turned on by the Tuyet Voi was still fresh in his mind. Again, he watched the video feed to study it more carefully. “It would seem their shield generator is dated technology; the right remoter could hack in and bring it down long enough to move a force in. Finding a remoter for hire would be simple enough, but finding a private army wouldn’t.” He rubbed his temples realizing how ridiculous he sounded. This was not the war he customarily fought.

“I know a guy,” Ramona said.

Paul gave a look that said: You-can’t-be-real.

“No, seriously…well.” Her eyes trailed to the floor. “I know him, but you probably wouldn’t like the idea. He’s sorta kinda a criminal.”

“The one you stole a drone processor from?” Paul asked.

Ramona burst with laughter, “No, no, yes!” she strained to speak, catching her breath, her face slightly red. “But, that was a minor offense…er, compared to everything else I’ve done.”

“Where are you going with this?”

Ramona shaped her face to mimic a serious one, but radiant joy still made it through the cracks. “I guarantee he has the army you need…he’s a crime lord with vast resources. He loves credits. For the right price, I think he would side with you. No, I know he would!” Ramona was beaming at Paul with such naiveté. The young girl spoke of hiring a gangster’s private army as if suggesting what restaurant to eat at. An unsettling thought.

Cringing slightly, Paul decided to hear her out.

Mercenary factions, blood money, crime syndicate relations, Ramona talked all about it like a well-rehearsed speech or someone conversing about their lifelong trade. Wondering if this was normal young girl behavior, Paul glanced over at Martha, who just hummed along cleaning shelves.

“The thing is, though...” Ramona craned her neck back, cradling her head in her hands. “I haven’t actually contacted him before…well, I’ve tried, but he likes to stay hidden, but I do have a plan! It’s been in the works for a while now.”

Paul arched an eyebrow, reluctant to indulge the girl for much longer. “How long is ‘a while’?” Skepticism started to set in.

“Half a lifetime give or take,” she said wryly. “I just need someone with…a little combat know-how. Someone who knows how to conduct dangerous operations. I think you fit the bill.”

“You’ve been plotting against this person.”

“Plotting is such a dark word. I prefer building contingencies. Honestly, I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Paul scratched his stubble, eyeing the girl carefully. He wasn’t sure he liked Ramona’s strange interest in ratting out this person. But, he supposed, that was of little consequence to him. “Very well. I will hear you out. But first, who is this man?”

Ramona smiled, “His name is Owlen Bek.”

The name hung in the air for a moment; Paul simply nodded to mask his mild surprise. So, these two really do have a bad history with each other, he thought to himself. Only now did he recall the red data driver Owlen left, which Paul had neglected to analyze the night before.

“You know Owlen?”

Ramona clasped her hands behind her back, “Well, yes and no.” She raised an eyebrow. “Why, do you know him?”

She’s a menace, that’s all there is to it…Don’t tell her you talked to me, okay? It’s better for all of us if she doesn’t get too upset. Owlen’s words hung in Paul’s mind, then he looked down to the girl’s beaming green eyes. Why was a man of power afraid of this little girl?

“No, I’m afraid I’ve never met the man.”