Chapter 2

Turbulence rocked the shuttle, winds rushed by with muffled howls just outside, and thunder rattled the hull. Paul, along with Captain Doyen and five others, rode the shuttle bound for the planet’s surface, the mysterious object, and most importantly, Ozcar.

The soldiers were clad head to toe in mossy camouflaged light scout hardsuits, Doyen had donned an officer’s helmet and a simple chest piece over his naval uniform, and Paul wore his hand-forged chest armor under his black robes. Each of the soldiers shared Paul's anticipation; he could feel their excitement and thirst for vengeance. All but Doyen, who stood with remarkable stiffness despite the turbulence. How the man remained so hesitant was mystifying.

“My Lord, it’s an honor to fight alongside you. Think you’ll need to use that sword of yours?” One of the younger men spoke up. Usually, the youngest soldiers would not dare to make eye contact with a Lord of the Tuyet Voi, let alone address him with such joviality. This one was brave or stupid, or spirits were especially high.

Paul clasped his hand around his most prized possession hanging from his belt. A sword with a heart of cadami, the weapon of Progenitor warriors. Few existed, but each was specially made to suit the wielder. Adorned with feather carvings of a Rey Phoenix and the horns of a behemoth Star Dragon, the hilt on that particular sword had a slight curve to accommodate quick transitions between different styles. The glint of the blade was the last thing many men had seen.

“Twenty years, I’ve never seen a cadami blade outside of its sheath before,” the young man continued.

“Pray that you never do, my wayward compatriot,” said Paul.

“My lord,” the pilot called from the front, “I have a visual on the...object.”

Past the raging veil of storms, the planet’s rolling green hills and rocky surface could be seen as plain as day, and what lay among the trees sent a shiver down Paul’s spine. A silvery two-pronged object, a valley of overturned rock and dirt stretched into the horizon behind it, and a nearby mountain looked like a foothill by comparison.

“Is that a ship?” the pilot asked over her shoulder, sounding wonderfully alarmed. “That thing must be at least twenty kilometers long!”

“Indeed,” Paul’s lips curled into a smile almost involuntarily, what a sight to behold. “And I see our friend Ozcar has landed nearby. Find us a spot near his ship.” A shuttle with red and white Amani stripes sat nestled within a small clearing.

“Yes, my lord,” she said. “Looks pretty overgrown down there... ah, there's a spot.”

Minutes later, Paul disembarked the landing ramp flanked by his captain and five soldiers. Foggy mist filled the air. Chirps, croaks, and howls of wildlife emanated from the thick jungle ahead. The others were being quiet with weapons raised in all directions, probably wondering if anything dangerous lurked within, but Paul was not to be deterred.

Firstly, they checked Ozcar’s shuttle. The loading ramp lay open and its engines were still winding down. No one was inside, Paul’s senses detected no life aboard- the man was either dead or had already set off on foot, drops of blood trailing down the ramp and into the wilderness suggested the latter. Nonetheless, Doyen and the others ran lifeform scans. The ship was empty.

“Let’s go,” Paul called out, and the others fell into step behind him, weapons at the ready.

High above, the storm still raged on, though all was calm on the surface. A strange anomaly. Unnatural. At least they didn’t have to trudge through a lightning storm, though, rain may have been a welcomed relief. The surface was sweltering; what was initially believed to be fog turned out to be a muggy haze that exuded from the jungle like the breath of a giant beast. It was also apparent that the path ahead was fraught with vines, prickly thorns, and all manner of vile flora. Not ten minutes into their trek, Captain Doyen had slipped on some mud and nearly fell into a bush of yellow spikes. A swarm of strange radiant bugs fluttered around everyone’s heads, threatening to attack with their knife-like stingers. One miserable soldier did get stung, and a painful-looking welt had developed on his neck. At the very least, there didn’t seem to be any vicious predators lurking, for the moment anyway.

“I thought Movaj was supposed to be a barren world,” one of the soldiers said as he shooed away more insects.

A short slog through a rancid swamp later and they had made it to the tip of the ship. Its silvery hull towered over them like a skyscraper. Paul wiped the sweat from his forehead, arching his neck to see the top of the vessel. He turned to his squad, who were all in awe, just like their leader.

“Captain, your thoughts?”

Doyen stepped forward, mouth agape, flicked some dried muck off his armor, and said, “well, I certainly hope it was worth the swamp water in my boots. This craft must have crashed years ago.”

“Centuries even,” Paul said. “A ship of this size, its crash should have torn this world to sunders, rendered it a glass desert. Yet life thrives, most curious.”

A gentle breeze ran through the trees. Paul had not been so tranquil in years as he walked further down the hull admiring his find. The ship, at first sight, looked far more advanced than anything in the Tuyet Voi or Amani fleets. The silvery metal was clean, hardly touched by nature, but most interesting was the whole thing still looked to be in one piece. What secrets lay inside? There could be powerful weapons, a new energy source, clues to the crew and what happened to them. In time, it might even be possible to get it space-worthy.

Spirits were high despite their treacherous hike, the squad talked joyfully among themselves, a couple of them goaded the youngest to touch the ship. Everyone’s exhaustion had turned to elation, all except Captain Doyen. He stood perfectly at attention at Paul’s side, looking professional as usual despite the sweat dripping from his brow and splattered mud all over.

“Still troubled, Captain?” Paul asked.

“Yes…” he hesitated, looking at the great ship up and down. His voice dropped to a hush. “The Emperor restricts this system; surely he knows this is here. And yet there are no space stations, no research facilities. This place looks like it hasn't been touched in centuries.”

“Indeed. What is Reyleonard hiding?” Said Paul at normal volume as he glared at the ship. “And did Ozcar know?”

“What would you have us do now?”

“We’re going in.”

Hours of searching passed. Most of that was simply walking in a straight line along the ship’s exterior; at least there was plenty of shade.

“Hey, I found an opening!” shouted the youngest.

“Yes, Jenkins, we can see it,” another said blandly.

“We all see it.”

A gaping hole, large enough for Ozcar’s entire cruiser to fit through, marred the otherwise impeccable silver hull.

“It would seem our mystery vessel was shot down,” Paul said as he leaped through activating an illuminator. Darkness shrouded most of the interior, but what was visible was charred and melted into bubbly masses.

“My lord, I found something!” Doyen called. Light seeped through the cracks in a bulkhead door. A bloody handprint stained the door.

“Well done, captain. Open it. Everyone else, have your weapons ready- Ozcar may be injured, but do not underestimate him,” Paul said as he drew his sidearm.

Doyen pulled out a tool and prepared to pry the door ajar, but it opened at his approach. Light stretched like a column into the dark corridor, natural light by the looks of it. Paul stepped through and felt as if he had just entered a portal into a different reality.

Magnificent spires and arches towered overhead, buildings of curvy architecture lined a grid of roadways in every direction, and what resembled flyer vehicles sat parked on the curbs. An entire city, housed within the ship. Yet, not another living soul was present, no bodies, no signs of battles. It was like everyone had simply got up and left. The only thing out of place was the trail of fresh blood leading deeper inside.

“My lord,” Doyen spoke, sounding concerned, “what happened to the populace?”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Ghost towns were nothing out of the ordinary for Paul, but they were usually in ruins from battle. To see one in such pristine condition was unsettling, yet the way the sunshine gleamed off the buildings gave the city an eerie beauty. Sunshine? Paul looked up to see clear blue skies. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have thought the entire roof had been missing. Synthetic rays beamed down warming his cheeks, but temperatures were cool and pleasant, a relief from the oppressive outside heat —just another oddity on an ever-growing list.

On and on the streets went. No two buildings were the same; some were constructed from a similar silvery material as the hull, others were built from carved stone blocks the size of small houses. Storefronts and restaurants, or so that’s what they appeared to be, dotted the streets. Holographic signs of bright colors filled the walls and road corners; some looked like advertisements, others were in the shape of abstract art and oblong plant life. The text that went alongside the holo-displays were in some alien language Paul didn’t recognize. Swirling sculptures and intricate fountains accented the city’s beauty. In the distance lay grassy green hills and a sprawling lake. Paul very much wanted to find a vantage point to take in the entire cityscape. It would take months with a dedicated team to go through and search everything.

Questions zoomed through Paul’s mind as he and his team walked the streets: what species had achieved such a technical marvel? Were they nomadic people living exclusively out of ships like this one? What happened to them? Where did they go? Paul would dwell more on these thoughts later- Ozcar needed to be dealt with.

Two blocks ahead the air rippled unnaturally. At first, it seemed to be a trick of the light, the artificial sun and sky reflecting off the buildings. But as they drew closer, a deep blue glow emitted from the street beyond. Around the corner, cerulean light bathed a whole city plaza. The light shined from a smooth metal obelisk perched atop a hill, and leaning against that obelisk was a man. Paul approached without hesitation; the rest of his team followed with an air of caution.

The dying man was hardly a threat anymore. His tan robes were drenched in crimson from a nasty shoulder wound, and the rest of his clothes were speckled with dried mud. Paul stowed his weapon. “There’s nowhere left to run, Master Ozcar. You bring shame to our kind with your cowardice.”

“Just…” he coughed up some blood, “get it over with. Strike me down with your blade,” he croaked weakly.

“Only warriors receive a warrior’s death. You will bleed and die here like a half-chewed boskeen rat.” Paul knelt to be face to bloodied face. Ozcar’s eyes were weary; blood trickled down from a gash on his head down over his dirt-covered face. Any normal man would have died long ago. “Make your last moments count and tell me what you know of this place. Why did you run here?”

Ozcar shook his head. His eyes drooped like he was about to fall asleep. “You’ll find out for yourself soon enough. I don’t even know the full story.”

Paul reached out and grasped Ozcar’s jaw tightly to tilt his head from side to side. “Insolent Amani pest, a Progenitor knows the truth whether you like it or not. Do not lie to me,” he said menacingly. Paul exerted his power, looking beyond Ozcar’s near lifeless eyes in search of any unseen signs of deception, but felt only sincerity. Had Ozcar tried to lie, Paul would have perceived the undeniable conscious effort of concealing the truth as if he were the one doing it. In other words, he would simply know.

“You speak the truth,” Paul said knowingly and released the man with a shove. “Or you’re exceptionally proficient at lying to your fellow Progenitors. No, doubtful for your condition or your skill level. Tell me, did someone instruct you to guide me here?”

Ozcar growled with anger, or maybe he was grunting in pain. It didn’t matter; the man clearly had no answers. “What does he see in you?” Ozcar’s hand wrapped tightly around Paul’s arm, slowly his grasp weakened and he slumped over, his eyes went blank.

Paul scowled as he reached down and prized Ozcar’s cadami sword, clipping it to his belt. Who?

Triumph...was what Paul hoped to experience as he watched the life leave Ozcar, but there was nothing. The man lay in a pool of his blood in the middle of a deserted city, never able to put up a fight. There was no honor in chasing a wounded animal until it died of exhaustion; if anything, this was a small failure. “Burn the body,” he commanded two of his soldiers. “We’ll stay a little longer, then start the hike back to the shuttle.”

Ozcar’s body was dragged out into the street and set ablaze. Paul pitied the man. If he had not run, he would have had a proper incineration funeral, a custom of Progenitors no matter what side of the war they fought on.

So that was it; weeks being on the hunt had all led here. Was this his plan all along? What could this device be? A wispy blue aura emanated from the obelisk, which stood just a few feet taller than Paul. Its surface was perfectly smooth; there were no markings or writing to indicate its function.

Paul turned to Doyen, who looked to be more out of sorts than ever. “Thoughts, Captain?”

Doyen just shook his head. “No idea, my lord.” He looked sharply to his left. “But, I think we should retreat to the Indominus, with all due respect.” The great city’s silence was unnerving the man, but he couldn’t be blamed for it. Quiet towns usually meant an Amani ambush was coming, but no danger could be sensed.

“Hmm…in time, Captain,” Paul scratched his beard. “You,” he pointed out the youngest. “Approach the device, lay your hands on it.”

M...me, my lord?” The soldier stuttered.

Paul only glared.

“Yes...my lord,” said the soldier, moderately concealing his terror. The rest of the team goaded him on.

“C’mon, Jenkins, you got this!”

“Don’t be a scared toron, go on!”

Cheers erupted from the rest of the squad as the youngest ran a hand across the obelisk; his fears diminished as nothing happened.

“Well?”

“It’s only warm to the touch, a little tingly actually.”

“Is it now?” Paul reached out to touch the glowing structure, warm just as the trooper said and tingly as if a current ran through the metal. The mild warmth grew burning hot. Reflexively he tried to retract his hand, but it was stuck as if fused to the metal. Straining to move anything, neck, legs, even a toe, the effort was futile. Electricity commanded every muscle in Paul’s rigid body.

Bright light blinded all vision, images flashed before his eyes, sounds echoed at the back of his mind: harsh crowded screams, flames unbearably hot, a city in ruins, worlds breaking apart, galaxies colliding, a sea of blackness, a shadowy beast watched over it all. Information poured into Paul’s mind with such ferocity that it could burn through stone. Teeth clenched, eyes squeezed painfully tight, it was endure or die. Then, it was over.

***

Dark clouds hung over in the sky, a headache scratched the back of Paul’s skull. It took him a few moments to realize he was lying on the ground.

“He’s awake!” A voice hollered.

Doyen hurried over, his chiseled face blocked out the clouds. “My Lord! Are you all right?”

Paul sat up, massaging his temples. “How long was I out?” he groaned.

“Half an hour. You completely froze when you touched the obelisk. We didn’t even realize something was wrong until you fell over,” said Doyen as he scanned Paul with a medical tool. He regarded the results, perplexed. “According to this, there’s nothing wrong with you. How are you feeling?”

His hand should have been covered with burns, but all was fine other than a slight headache. Slowly and with a heavy head, Paul got to his feet. They were still inside the ship right near the obelisk; the thought of touching it again was repulsive. “I saw images, a vision, but it was jumbled, unintelligible.” Visions were nothing unusual for a Progenitor, but this was something else entirely. As unpleasant as the experience was, there was great intrigue there, requiring further study. “Have you contacted the Indominus?”

“I’ve been trying, my lord. I’ve lost contact with them,” said Doyen. “The private is over there trying to raise them.”

“Perhaps the interior of this ship is interfering.”

The captain shook his head, “It’s not that. I sent two others outside after communications failed here. They had no luck either. There was no static or feedback, just no more connection.”

“That can’t be right; continue your efforts.”

All was silent as Doyen fiddled with his com device, the soldiers sat around talking amongst themselves, and Paul stared at the blue obelisk for a long while. Then he noticed something strange: above there was a hole in the sky, or in the ceiling technically. Dark clouds contrasted with the sunny skies inside- the battle damage that led to the crash? Then he got an idea. “Shoot a signal probe through that hole in the roof.” At once, Doyen waved Jenkins over to carry out the order.

A breeze gently wavered the grass. Slowly gusts of wind kicked up sweeping through the city, thunder rumbled, and the bright sky faded behind grey clouds. Jenkins tried shooting the probe off, but it got caught in the wind and blew off into the depths of the city. An ear-piercing shriek, a roar, or a starship explosion rang out; whichever it was, Paul did not know. Fear erupted from the soldiers in the squad, and even Doyen looked shaken.

“Form up!” Paul called out over the rush of wind to his men. “Weapons at the ready and maintain formation, we make for the shuttle immediately.” Everyone complied at once but came to a halt after just a few steps.

“I have contact at the foot of the hill!” One soldier shouted.

“Contact in that building!” another added.

“We’re surrounded!” Jenkins shrieked.

It was true; they were surrounded. But by what? They looked humanoid, but luminescent tubing ran in and out of their rotted and stretched-out gray skin, and their eyes glowed a sinister orange. More and more lumbered over from the shadows to join the already several dozen mounting all around; they were unarmed, but that was little concession to the frightened men around Paul. The creatures’ mouths hung open, and their heads tilted from one side or another like their necks had been snapped. Paul reached out to sense their motivations: barbaric, animalistic, the instinctual need to kill. Did these things slaughter the original populace of the city-ship?

The creatures snapped forward, charging in on all fours. Crimson bolts of plasma rang out into the rampaging crowd.

“Maintain formation!” Paul shouted as he squeezed off round after round. Despite dropping one creature after another, more kept coming. Their howls and growls were bloodcurdling. Closer and closer they managed to get; their grotesque bodies began to pile up. One closed in striking range bearing razor-sharp claws at the end of its fingers but a blast to the chest made quick work of it. Another jumped on Paul’s back, ripping into his robes and armor, nearly knocking him off balance, but it went limp and fell to the ground with a sizzling hole in its back. “Captain, alert the pilot and have her bring the shuttle around!”

Doyen complied right away, but he shook his head. “I can’t; connections are still severed!”

“We make for the exit then!” Paul commanded. “I’ll cut us a path!” He gripped the hilt of his sword, but before he could do anything else, his feet lifted off the ground. It was as if a string wrapped around his body and pulled him up; he kicked and waved around, but nothing was there.

“Lord Nefarous!” Doyen exclaimed, but the deafening rush of wind drowned out his cries as Paul soared rapidly into the sky. Helplessly he watched his men get swarmed by those monsters. Soon he could see the entirety of the colossal silver ship, then nothing but clouds obscured his vision. For a split moment, what appeared to be the silhouette of a capital-sized starship swam through the haze, but not a second later something slammed the back of Paul’s head, and all went black.