Trebor’s street craft was a long, sleek utility craft with a strangely sporty look to it, painted jet black to match his uniform. It was otherwise unmarked, though it was hard to miss for those aware and wary of the RTS. He was leaning on the driver’s door, waiting for Darvik and Yellup, who came jogging into the garage and hustled over to him.
“Looks like we might have found Creddik,” he said as they approached. “Of course, there’s also an impending invasion to worry about. Evidently, we didn’t qualify for the new shielding that’s supposed to defend our planet against our mysterious enemies, but I still plan to do my job until I’m forcibly stopped.”
Darvik and Yellup nodded their assent. Yellup took the front passenger seat and Darvik crawled into the back, where he was separated from the front seat with bars. While he was an agent, not a prisoner, the symbolism bothered him, and he knew–without the Wabuluban ever saying anything–that it wasn’t lost on Yellup, either.
The craft zipped out of the Depot’s garage, made it through the security checkpoint, and was soon on its way through the twilight to the spaceport. The trip to the south end was full of ugly memories for Darvik, as the south end was the hub of Kerucester’s underworld. He wondered if Trebor and Yellup remembered the part of his file that told the story of his first meeting with Dewlin, one of the city’s premier crime bosses, as they passed the seedy bar where it had taken place. Coupled with the evacuated city’s eerie emptiness, the trip was extremely off-putting.
Recollections aside, the trip was speedy and efficient, and Trebor soon parked the craft a block to the northeast of the spaceport. The three agents quietly filed out onto the street, approaching the scene.
The spaceport was indeed the same one Darvik had come to when he was a fugitive murderer, and he winced as he saw the dirty, crumbling facility once more, the glass shattered out of half the window panes and the chain link fence broken in multiple places. The spaceport was nearly as empty as the rest of the city, though a few figures milled around, including a group of mechanics in an open hangar attempting to fix a rust bucket of a ship that Darvik wouldn’t take to space if his life depended on it. Creddik was talking to one of them.
“We have our fugitive,” said Trebor, indicating the Dromean. “Yellup, give us a perception bubble, we’re going in.”
The three agents huddled together and moved in slowly. A perception bubble would keep most people from noticing the figures inside it, helping them to move stealthily and avoid drawing attention. They were able to slip into the spaceport, walking right past the guard, who was more interested in the magazine he was reading than any potential security concerns. From there, they walked swiftly and quietly towards Creddik, who was arguing with someone who appeared to be speaking for the crew of the broken down ship.
“Get me into the aether, I have the money!” he was saying.
“Don’t care,” said the scruffy-looking Talpidarian. “This ship ain’t going anywhere today. You think you’re the only one standing here who wants to get offworld?”
An ugly look crossed Creddik’s face, and he concentrated on the crewman as if he wanted to try puppeteering him, but suddenly stopped, looking over at the strangely fuzzy area over his shoulder. Three RTS agents came into focus, all of them with their weapons drawn, fanning out as far as the perception bubble had allowed.
“That’s right,” said Trebor. “Now get down on the ground! You’re under arrest!”
Creddik grabbed the crewman by the neck, holding him hostage, and began burrowing into the mind of the larger of the two mechanics.
“Tranq the lot of them!” cried Trebor.
Darvik fired at Creddik, catching him in the shoulder with a tranq dart. They had been ready to fire the moment before Creddik had spotted them, but he’d interrupted them at the last moment. He sneered, reaching up with his free hand and pulling the dart out of his muscle, throwing it to the ground as a few more darts plowed into the ship’s crewmen, a couple well-placed shots downing the puppeteered mechanic.
Something knocked out the power and the dingy lights went out, plunging the whole group into darkness as their eyes adjusted. Someone tumbled into Darvik and he grabbed them by the collar, hauling them up so he could look them in the eye. It was the scruffy Talpidarian who, by the dazed look in his eyes, had been pushed into him as the dart did its work. Darvik heard the rattling of a chain link fence and looked over to see a large form squeezing through a break in the fence. He dropped the crewman unceremoniously and raised his tranq gun, squeezing off a shot that sparked off the fence but missed the target. Seeing where he was firing, the others joined in, chasing after the rogue psychic.
“Yellup, see to the civilians,” said Trebor.
Yellup grunted disapproval but followed orders, checking to make sure the crewmen weren’t unduly injured. The power came back on, and Darvik saw Creddik looking over his shoulder as he ducked around a corner.
Slipping through the same break in the fencing as their quarry, Darvik and Trebor ran to catch up with Creddik. He ran straight down the road for a block, Darvik and Trebor’s darts flying wide as they tried to run and fire at the same time. Reaching the corner of a crumbling stone building, he turned suddenly and darted down the alley.
“How’d he manage that trick with the lights?” asked Darvik as he ran.
“I don’t believe he did,” suggested Trebor.
His powerful Dromean legs pushing him faster than the two humans pursuing him could hope to run, Creddik increased the distance between them at an alarming rate.
“All units this is Agent Trebor of the RTS,” said Trebor into a special channel on his comm. “I need any available law enforcement to aid us in the apprehension of a dangerous rogue psychic.”
“Agent Trebor, this is dispatch,” came the reply after a moment. “Are you meant to be out and about right now?”
“I am out right now, and I need back up!” retorted Trebor, dodging the question.
The lights flashed out again. This time a strange glow came from above, accompanied by an ominous whistling. Darvik looked up to see a series of rockets heading straight for the city.
“Get down!” he shouted, huddling in the doorway of the old stone building.
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Seeing the rockets, Trebor joined him. The ground shook as the rockets began to land. They were more concentrated to the north, but a few hit in the vicinity of the spaceport. Darvik looked around, surprised that there were no fireballs or mushroom clouds or flattened buildings. Instead of an explosion, he heard a series of enraged roars that chilled the blood in his veins.
***
The stone hall, evidently carved as the larger Coreborn had descended, glowed with the same blue glyphs that were etched into the stones that made up his being. The designs faded behind them as they descended, and Crush noted that they were superficial, rather than being etched into the stone like his and hers were.
Silence reigned as they walked further and further into the hall, and eventually the cool of the earth gave way to something warmer as they descended further into the world’s crust.
“How much further?” she asked, growing anxious.
“NOT TOO MUCH,” answered the massive creature that walked before her. “PATIENCE, LITTLE GUARDIAN. THAT IS SOMETHING YOUR COHORT SEEMS TO HAVE FORGOTTEN.”
Crush snarled inwardly, annoyed with the cryptic being that clearly had all the answers she’d been looking for, but was unwilling to divulge them.
“Well… what’s your name?” she asked, desperate for any information.
He paused, turning to look at her over his shoulder. “I AM CALLED… MERISTEM, IN YOUR TONGUE.”
“Meristem, then,” she replied. “You can call me Crush.”
“THE ELDERS WILL TELL ME WHAT I SHALL CALL YOU,” said Meristem, turning back to the path before him.
Anger burned through Crush’s glyphs, but she saw a brighter blue light glowing beyond Meristem so she held her piece and followed him. As she did, the tunnel widened and she found herself in a grand, dim room with walls that shot up into the darkness, where they eventually met a ceiling, she assumed. Opposite the entrance was a massive stone pillar with branches that grew from it like a tree. On either side of the pillar stood three massive stone figures, three slim figures to the left and three wider figures on the right. All of them were covered in swirling blue and at least twice as tall as Crush, making them about twelve feet tall.
“WELCOME, LITTLE GUARDIAN,” they all said in unison.
Crush stumbled back. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to her that the figures would be living beings, like Meristem and herself.
“Hellllooo,” she said stupidly, looking around at the figures, which had all begun turning their heads to look at her. “I am Crush.”
“NO,” said one of the massive Coreborn Elders. He was one of the large figures on the right, his shoulders broad like Meristem’s, and his chin covered in a bushy lichen that gave him a semblance of a beard. “THAT IS A NAME YOU GAVE YOURSELF. IT SERVED YOU WELL IN YOUR FORMER LIFE, BUT IT IS NOT FOR A GUARDIAN TO CHOOSE THEIR OWN NAME.”
“Alright, I need explanations here,” demanded Crush. “Up until–what, a year ago?–everyone in the galaxy believed that Robots were just advanced artificial intelligence, made possible by the complexity of the crystalline structure of our cores. We fought and died for the right to be treated as sapient. Now, suddenly, we find that we all came from the same place, somehow?” She shook her head, then raised it, looking into the eyes of the bearded creature that stood before her. “And now, after we’ve been on this planet for months, we learn that we’re not the only ones awakened?”
“I UNDERSTAND THAT YOU HAVE QUESTIONS, LITTLE GUARDIAN,” said one of the slim elders. Her voice had the same booming quality as the masculine Coreborn, but was smoother, like water pouring over stones. “BUT YOU MUST NOT TALK TO THE ELDERS THAT WAY. NOT YET.”
“Fine, alright,” said Crush, holding up her hands and nodding. She fought hard, and was able to keep the majority of the annoyance and impatience out of her voice. “Please, Elders of the Coreborn, tell me about our people.”
The lichen-bearded Elder stooped down, gently easing himself onto the floor where he sat cross-legged, facing Crush, though his head was still above hers by a fair margin.
“Our story starts some millenia ago,” he said, his voice softer now, though still booming and deep. “Or, at least, your part in it does.
“At that time, the Tree Shapers of the Lightborn–those you call Astralbians–and the Guardian of the Coreborn–those you call Robots–were the co-rulers of Cradle. The Elders, these six beings you see before you, served as advisors. All of us were put here by the Progenitor, as you call him, to live in such fashion. The Shapers and the Lightborn explored the land and sea, bending the growing things to their will, and the Guardian and the Coreborn saw to the defense of the planet from the ravages of Koo L’Koom and the other aether beasts.
“One day, something strange crash-landed on our world. A star tree, with its fruits intact. Seeing its potential, a Tree Shaper named Vibu sought to breed the alien tree on our world. This worried us, but we did not forbid it, nor did we have the authority to.
“Eventually, Vibu mastered the tree, as he mastered all he set out to do, but not before causing a number of explosions as he experimented with the tree’s incredible power. One such explosion killed a number of people, both Light- and Coreborn. Feeling he was ready to take the next step, he planned to fly his tree away from Cradle, asking Crown–the Guardian at that time–to join him.
“Crown refused, saying that his place was on Cradle. Hurt, but not discouraged, Vibu went off into the aether, exploring further than he dared dream, and after a journey of many years, eventually returned home claiming that he found a place where the aether beasts did not come to drive folk mad. He insisted on moving there, and bringing all who would come with him.” At this, the Elder’s face fell. “Perhaps we should have let him.”
“Crown gathered the Elders and those of the Tree Shapers who agreed with us. We publicly shamed Vibu, telling him he could not go and then destroying his Star Tree. For a time, it seemed that this was the end of it.
“However, Vibu bred star trees in secret, bringing a number of Shapers to his side behind our backs. Crown discovered the trees, and confronted Vibu.” Again the Elder paused, looking pained. “Vibu killed Crown that day. Death begat death, and war followed. Vibu wiped out every Tree Shaper that was not loyal to him, and the secret knowledge of their kind was locked away from the people of Cradle.
“Vibu’s influence grew, and many were eager to leave the world now that it was without a Guardian. You see, when a Guardian dies, a new one is made, just as a non-Guardian Coreborn is often made to replace one that passes on. However, the core of a Guardian is special, only found on one mountain on Cradle, and even there exceedingly rare.
“Not content to win only his freedom from Cradle, Vibu took his fleet of star trees to the Mount of the Guardians. Most of the star trees he filled with his people, fleeing the world. The rest he planted at the foot of the mountain, their roots growing down into the roots of the mountain.
“When the Elders were in sight of the mountain, the trees erupted. The blast would change the world forever, as the Mount of Guardians itself was launched into the aether, carrying with it every core that might one day become a Guardian.
“From that day, the Coreborn fled below the surface, and the art of tree shaping was dead among the Lightborn. The influence of the aether beasts went unchecked, and their appearances were times of great distress for both races. The Tree Shapers–or Tree Priests, as they came to call themselves–were never heard from again, nor was the fate of the Mount of the Guardians, until your arrival.”
Crush stood dumbfounded for a moment. “And I… I am a Guardian?”
“YOU ARE THE GUARDIAN,” said the slim, smooth-voiced Elder.
“AND I NAME YOU SPROUT,” said the lichen-bearded Elder as he returned to his full stature and resumed using his full voice.
Crush’s shoulders slumped in apathetic dismay. “Fine. Call me what you want.” She looked around at Meristem and the Elders. “But now I will tell you the story of my people, lost to you since the Shapers left your world.”