Vanbrook stretched as he walked down the Wingspan’s ramp down to the surface of Kirakna. Happily enough, Lawbine had finally left, heading back towards Aerat to coordinate with his people in light of the invasion of Griffonia. Admittedly, the invasion probably should have weighed heavier on Vanbrook’s mind, but another war just felt like another day in the Navy.
“Well you look pretty pleased with yourself,” said Reclan. She was waiting at the bottom of the ramp with a loaded ATUC ready to take supplies to the overcrowded refugee housing in the local arena.
“Yeah, I guess I’ve got nothing to gloat about,” said Vanbrook, deflating as he swung into the hovercraft. Raivyn still wasn’t talking to him, but at least the meddling gunslinger was gone.
“You know she had a good, long talk with Lawbine before he left, right?” asked Reclan.
“No, I didn’t,” he admitted, wincing. “Good or bad?”
Reclan shook her head. “No idea. But either way you’re not on her good side at the moment.”
Vanbrook said nothing, watching the rocky landscape go by as they drove through the outskirts of Tra-Kirakna, the domed capital city of Kirakna. The trip from the airfield to the city proper wasn’t far, and they were soon parked by the arena. Most of the buildings in Tra-Kirakna were short and stout stone buildings, the traditional style of the Raki. The arena, with its expansive stadium seating, towered over the surrounding buildings. Only in the central city, located further up Tra-Kirakna’s mountainous terrain, were there a few taller, modern skyscrapers. Not taking the time to appreciate the view, Reclan and Vanbrook began unloading boxes of canned goods and carrying them to the stations set up by the stadium doors.
“I fought out here a few times on the dueling circuit, remember?” asked Vanbrook.
“Yeah,” said Reclan with a smile. “You took me with you. It was my first time off Griffonia. And the first time I got in a fist-fight.”
Vanbrook laughed. “I thought your folks were gonna have my hide when they saw your black eye.”
“Well, you did leave me to fend for myself while you were dueling,” Reclan remarked.
“You were supposed to be in the stands, watching,” laughed Vanbrook.
“Pfft,” said Reclan. “Like I hadn’t seen you and Darvik duel a thousand times before.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Vanbrook, his face falling. “I forgot that was the match.”
Reclan shrugged. “That’s all over now.”
“Is it?” asked Vanbrook, nodding to a local coordinator as he set down a crate. “I heard he cut some kind of deal with the RTS. I know he made the right choices after Koomia, but I still…”
“Wanted to see him in front of a firing squad?” suggested Reclan, setting down her own crate.
Vanbrook sighed. “Yeah. That.”
Raivyn walked out of the arena from a side door, coming face-to-face with Vanbrook. She blushed, murmured an “excuse me,” and kept moving.
“Wait,” said Vanbrook.
She turned to him, anger seething under a mask of calm. “Yes?”
“Um, what are you up to?” he asked lamely.
She spread her hands, indicating the surroundings. “Whatever’s needed of me, Vanbrook.”
She tried to step by him, but he gently stepped in the way. “Maybe if you get a second we can-”
She cut him off. “I don't have time for your particular brand of stupid right now. There's a war on.”
This time Vanbrook let her pass, exchanging a grimace with Reclan.
The rest of the day slogged by, with Vanbrook feeling sorry for himself. That was, until he saw a familiar face among the local Raki volunteers.
“Hey, Ranger Trelik, how've you been?” he asked. Talon Squad had worked with Trelik once before, helping her to clear out an infestation of killer slugs.
“Oh, I've been better,” said the slender Raki with a shrug. “No worse off than anyone else, and better than many. I- I've got family on Griffonia that didn't make it out. Rumor is things are pretty bad there now.”
“Oh, uh, sorry to hear that,” said Vanbrook. His father had moved off to Talpidaria in search of work years ago, and that was about the only family he had.
“That's tough,” said Reclan. “My folks were here and on to Hittania before I got to say hello, but at least they're off-world. It all happened so fast, we lost contact with my Aunt and Uncle and their kids.”
“Well, it's hard for a civilian to utilize ripmed comms on a jump, especially in these circumstances,” said Trelik. “May Providence shine on them all.”
“Yeah, I hope so,” said Reclan.
“Well, that's enough feeling sorry for myself,” said Trelik, pulling herself up to her impressive full height and looking back towards the arena. “Hopefully I'll see you guys around. Say hello to the others for me.”
“Sure thing,” said Van. He shook his head as Trelik walked away. “Sorry, Rec, I didn't know about Uncle Drikk and family.”
“Oh, uh, thanks,” she said, a little surprised by the display of concern.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
“Yeah, I- sorry. I get so wrapped up in my own world sometimes,” said Vanbrook, his eyes downcast. “I sorta forget there's a whole galaxy out there.”
Reclan chuckled. “Come on, you big softie. These crates aren't going to move themselves.”
Just inside the door, Raivyn had been working out some logistics with a volunteer and heard most of the exchange. She sighed to herself. Vanbrook was a good man. But there was a war on. Whatever it was the two of them had, it would just have to wait.
***
A group of massive figures leapt around the corner of a building, roaring as they went. As they walked into the light of a street lamp, Darvik saw that they had rough orange skin and thick black manes, each wearing a purple singlet with a black belt around the waist.
One of them locked eyes with Darvik and charged, eyes filled with blood lust. Darvik fired his tranq gun, shooting the remaining darts and then throwing the gun at the beast wholesale as he drew his side arm. Beside him, Trebor had already drawn and was firing high caliber ballistics at the creature.
Unlike the darts, which hadn't penetrated the rough orange skin, the bullets seemed to give the beast a moment’s pause. Taking the opportunity, Trebor ran around the corner, yanking Darvik along with him. The beast howled and followed.
Rounding the corner, Darvik found himself face to face with another of the beasts. This one had a dull look in its eyes, and Trebor flung an arm out over Darvik to keep him from firing. This second beast walked around Darvik and launched himself at the first. The two creatures fell into a brutal wrestling match, clawing at each other and leaving long, red tears in the other's hide.
Confused, Darvik looked around and saw Creddik standing still in the street, his eyes closed and his hands on his head. His scaly brow was furrowed and his face was set in a grimace.
“He's puppeteering that one,” said Trebor. “I guess we owe him one.”
“What are these things?” asked Darvik, the terror of it all catching up to him now that he had a moment to breathe.
“The invaders?” suggested Trebor with a shrug, looking around for a clear path. Another beast had joined the brawl and things did not look promising for Creddik’s puppet.
A craft came around the corner at high speed, ramming into another beast that had taken an interest in the melee. The long, black vehicle screeched to a stop right next to Trebor and Darvik. It was Yellup, driving Trebor's craft.
“The crewmen?” asked Trebor.
Yellup shook his head, grimacing. “They went after them first… I- I couldn't keep them off of them.”
Trebor nodded. “Darvik, get in the back.”
Darvik nodded and obeyed, clamoring in while Trebor walked around the craft, grabbed the concentrating Creddik by the collar and roughly throwing him in next to Darvik and then jumping into the passenger seat.
“... repeat,” said a voice on the craft's speakers, “this is Prime Minister Skritka, broadcasting on all civilian and military comms channels. If you can hear this, proceed immediately to Griffin Keep and the Undercity. Beware the invaders; they are large, orange-skinned and wearing purple uniforms. Avoid contact at all costs… repeat…”
Gunshots, screams, and roars filled the city as the four rode through it, the message repeating over and over.
“What- what are we doing?” asked Creddik, his eyes wide with fear.
“We are going to make our way to the Keep,” said Trebor. “And we are going to kill, or at least maim, any invader we can along the way.”
***
“The Robogenic Meteorite, as we called the fragment of the Mount of Guardians that struck Aerat, crashed into the planet many thousands of years ago. It must have been a small fragment, its speed slowed by previous collisions, or it would have obliterated life on the planet entirely. As it was, it is believed to have set Humanity–Aerat’s sapient biological race–back technologically by centuries or more.” Crush paused, looking around at the Meristem and the gathered Elders. They watched intently, drawn in by the story. The lichen-bearded Elder nodded for her to continue and she obliged. “Millennia passed, and technology advanced, in no small part because of Humanity's contact and subsequent war with the descendents of Vibu and his tree priests, the Astralbians, who were using their star trees to conquer the galaxy.
“After regaining their freedom from the Astralbians, the Humans, along with their sapient allies, began developing more and more complicated machines, the most complex of which was the Robot. All that was missing was a crystalline structure capable of storing and processing vast quantities of information.
“Many solutions were tried, but it was not until scientists tested the crystalline orbs from that fateful meteorite that real sapience was realized.
“Again, until discovering cores on Cradle and my inexplicable transformation into… this form, it was believed a certain amount of circuitry and machinery was needed to create synthetic sapience.
“After this sudden advancement, tensions rose quickly between Humans and Robots. The ensuing conflict, the Singularity War, thankfully ended with Robots being formally recognized by international law as sapient and endowed with the same rights as biological or electromagnetic sapients, although limits were set as to the size and capabilities of Robot bodies. Additionally, existing Robots were given exclusive rights over the creation of new Robots.
“Since then, Robots have largely lived at peace with other sapients, exploring, creating and living alongside them. While many first generation Robots died in the Singularity War, it is not unheard of to find one here and there. I myself was only built about thirty years ago.
“In those years, I climbed the ranks of a Robot-only pirate organization, only to find truer friends among the Griffon Republic, who have taught me much. Of course, there is much more to the history of the Robot race, but that is the broad brush strokes view of it.”
“FASCINATING,” said lichen-beard. “AS WELL AS TRAGIC. THANK YOU, SPROUT, FOR THIS TALE.”
“Um, sure,” she answered, crossing her arms. “It's nice to get some real answers about who I am, but that's not why you summoned me. I believe you were trying to keep me clayside.”
“IT IS TRUE,” answered the slender Elder who had chided her earlier. “YOU MUST NOT LEAVE. A GUARDIAN’S PLACE IS ON CRADLE.”
“Find another Guardian,” answered Crush.
“WATCH YOUR TONGUE, LITTLE SPROUT,” answered the Elder.
“IT IS NO SMALL MATTER TO FIND A NEW GUARDIAN,” said Lichen-beard. “REGARDLESS, IT IS A SACRED DUTY. ONLY THE GUARDIAN CAN KEEP THE LIGHTBORN FROM THE EVIL OF KOO L’KOOM.”
“Koo L’Koom was turned away from this side of the Cornucopia Cluster shortly before I arrived here,” said Crush. “Surely he isn't due back for some time.”
“THERE ARE OTHER AETHER BEASTS,” answered another of the slender, feminine Elders. “A GUARDIAN'S PLACE IS ON CRADLE.”
“And if I send my people?” asked Crush. “I have been doing so since I first came here and, I suppose, you've been watching me that whole time, since you can speak fluent Talpaertan.”
“WE WILL NOT STOP YOU IN THAT,” said Lichen-beard. “BUT WE BESEECH YOU: DO NOT LEAVE YOURSELF.”
“I won't–for now,” answered Crush. “But I didn't sign up for this, and I won't be press-ganged into service.”
“NO ONE ‘SIGNS UP’ FOR THEIR PLACE IN THE UNIVERSE,” said the first feminine Elder. “THOUGH WHETHER YOU FULFILL IT OR NOT IS YOUR OWN CHOICE.”
“And if I choose to take my star tree–which I have put a lot of work into–for a trip around the orbit of Cradle, will you stop me?” asked Crush.
The Elders exchanged worried looks.
“WE DO NOT HAVE THE AUTHORITY TO STOP YOU, SPROUT,” answered Lichen-beard. “WE DO ASK, THOUGH, THAT YOU HEED OUR WARNINGS.”
The Elders stood back in their original positions, their eyes dimming slightly as they straightened up and stared blankly towards one another.
“THIS MEETING IS OVER, SPROUT,” said Meristem. “I WILL GUIDE YOU OUT AGAIN.”
Crush nodded despondently, following the hulking Coreborn back up the winding passage to the surface.