The patterns were unmistakable.
Finally a sign!
Someone had tried to use the mask.
As he attempted to pinpoint its location, his entire system began to blink and wail, hundreds of messages flashing on his retina, colors swirling erratically all over the circular wall.
With a few expert taps, he filtered the chatter and read the relevant data. His throat tightened as he grasped the severity of the situation.
Why had he not seen this coming?
They were very smart.
They distracted him with all those smaller attacks, kept him busy while they prepared something much more far-reaching and much harder for him to counteract.
He could tell, well before the broadcasted message, that he would be near powerless. He’d be able to stop specific events, but the damage done to the core of the planet would be difficult to circumvent.
When the tornado fell upon Joqqal, he threw his ship into its eye and pumped as much energy as he could into the storm. It would make him visible, but it did not matter anymore at this stage. There were more pressing issues.
Once the immediate danger was under control, he tapped in Cora’s holo ID. Her familiar face quickly appeared on his retina.
“You’re safe,” he remarked with relief.
She smiled. “Yes. Thank you for your concern... And for saving us. I assume that was your doing?” He nodded. “What of the rain?”
“That... will be more difficult. They went deep into the planet to corrupt its inner core. There will be consequences. And not just here. I’ll only be able to stop localized events as they appear.”
“So... there’s nothing you can do to stop them?”
“I need the mask!” he said desperately. “Without it, capturing them would be pointless as I’d have no way to contain them.”
“Can’t you make another one?”
He laughed. “No. I did not even make this one. It is, in fact, well beyond my skills.”
“But it has your face!”
“The mask takes on the shape of its first wearer.”
“Oh. So what are our options?”
Xian looked at his screen and scanned through the data he’d set aside when the storm had hit.
“The mask was worn recently. This made it possible for me to locate it. I’m headed there now.”
“Alright. Keep me posted?”
“I will. And you stay safe!”
He cut the communication and entered the coordinates into the navigation system.
The ship veered, picked up speed, and rushed toward Ahuaxa.
***
Trent Little was a small man with a bald head and a gray beard. The glasses on his nose could not hide the surprise in his eyes when he opened his door and found her standing before him.
“Susan! What a surprise. I... Well.” He cleared his throat. “Please. Come in.”
She did, though she made sure she never lost sight of him.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?”
A little voice in her head was whispering that someone with a clean conscience would have immediately made some sort of reference to the fact she was a fugitive—or at the very least acted nervous.
Well, admittedly, he was acting nervous, wasn’t he?
“I wanted to talk about my parents.”
He tilted his head. “I’m pretty sure I’ve told you everything I know... But I’d be happy to answer any further questions you may have.”
They walked into the living room, and he motioned for her to sit down.
“We could have done this over a holo call, you know?” he remarked. “Like last time. You really didn’t need to go to all this trouble—”
“It’s no trouble at all.”
“Yes, well... Would you like something to drink?”
She smiled. “See. If I hadn’t come, I wouldn’t have had the pleasure to share a drink with you. Whiskey, please.”
Trent chuckled as he poured her the drink. “Fair enough.”
She watched him carefully. If he was the killer, as she suspected, he could try anything... like slipping something into her glass. She wondered if she shouldn’t have turned down the drink after all.
“You say you’ve told me everything... Are you sure you haven’t forgotten something?”
He came back with her glass—and none for himself, she noted—with a thoughtful expression.
“No. At least, I don’t think so.”
“Did you ever see them again? After they left, I mean.”
He sat down across from her. “After? Let me see. I think I remember a couple of holo calls with David...”
“Is that all? You never met in person?”
There was a slight twitch in his face that made her go “aha!” in her head.
“No,” he said slowly. “He wasn’t on the planet anymore, so...”
“And you never left Vuulthur?”
He stared at her.
“Well, as a matter of fact, I did. A couple of times. For work.”
“Oh? What type of work?”
“What is this about, Susan?”
“I think you know.”
She had not touched her glass and had decided safer not to. She hadn’t seen him pour anything into it, but she wasn’t going to take any chances.
Trent’s expression soured. “Really, I don’t—”
“Why did you do it? Just tell me that.”
Her father’s former friend stood and walked over to the kitchen.
“Honestly, Susan, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You’re lying. I know it. You know it. So let’s cut to the chase. I have proof you brought back the alien technology my father had inside him. You brought it back to Lucaan Labs. That was the ‘work’ you were doing.”
Trent froze in his steps, his back turned to her.
A sigh came from him as he reached out to a drawer and opened it.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, “but you’re not giving me much choice.”
“I should warn you I’ve taken precautions,” she lied—cursing herself for not having actually done this. “The proof is in a safe. Instructions to open it have been sent to friends, in the event of my death... or disappearance.”
Trent walked back to the living room, slowly.
He held a knife.
“You have, have you?”
She stared at the weapon in his hand and tried to keep her voice from trembling.
“Tell me why you did it.”
“Why do you think?” he spat. “For the money, of course.”
“My father was your friend!”
Trent laughed. “That fool? No. He always thought he was the smartest guy in the room, and constantly looked down on me. Sure, I smiled and pretended to like him. But, really? I despised him. Not that it really matters. He stole Lucaan property. I was to bring it back. The only way I could do it was to cut him open. Your mother was just an unfortunate witness.”
It was a strange sensation.
There was anger in her, rising with every word. And yet, at the same time, a feeling of relief, to finally know what had happened. To finally understand.
“And Jones?”
“He’d figured it out and was blackmailing me. Figured I’d kill two birds with one stone.”
He had come closer, so she stood now and lifted a hand.
“I’m telling you, you don’t want to do that...”
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Trent shrugged. “Why not? I think you’re bluffing. And even if you aren’t... if I let you go, I’d still end up in jail. So what does it matter? I have nothing left to lose.”
Without another word, he lunged at her, pushing the knife forward.
She jumped out of the way and ran toward the door.
But he was faster and cut her off, waving the blade in her direction.
“House! Call the police!” she cried out.
Trent laughed. “I disabled my AI years ago. Never liked it. I prefer the quiet.”
She thought of jumping at him, or kicking the weapon out of his hand, but she had no illusions about her chances of success. She was no fighter. He was an experienced killer. Her odds did not look good.
“You won’t get away with this!”
“Maybe, maybe not... I’m curious to find out. I’ve always liked to gamble.”
As he leaped at her again, she jumped backward and hit the table. She fell, just as the knife swooshed where her breast had been a second ago.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the still full glass he had brought her. She grabbed it and tossed the contents at his face.
That caught him by surprise, making him stagger back.
She took those few seconds to run to the door and step outside, into the howling wind.
He came running after her.
Though she moved as fast as she could, she was no match for him.
He caught up and slashed at her arm.
She felt the sting and screamed.
And tripped.
He came down on top of her and lifted the knife.
She held out her hands to try and block him.
As the blade dove toward her face, a shadowy figure rushed at the killer and tossed him to the ground, off of Susan.
The two tumbled, rolled, and struggled.
Susan sat up, dazed and startled.
As she watched the two of them fighting, wondering what had happened... she recognized the newcomer’s face as her uncle’s.
It was a surreal scene, where the two held each other’s wrists. Because, she realized, Duncan had a phaser he was trying to aim at the killer, while the killer was trying to stab her uncle.
The struggle lasted for what might have been an eternity—it certainly felt that way to her, with everything seeming to run in slow motion.
And all of a sudden, it was over.
Duncan’s strength faltered, and the knife plunged into his heart.
As glee overtook Trent, a shot rang out.
The killer froze.
Blood dripped from his lips.
Then his body went limp and he fell to the ground, dead.
“Duncan!” she screamed as she ran to her uncle’s side.
His breath was slow, his eyes fluttering in the wind. But he managed to smile, a sad little smile, as he held up a hand to her cheek.
“The truth lies at moonrise,” he whispered.
His voice trailed off as his eyes closed.
“No!” she cried. “Don’t die!”
Tears trailed down her cheeks as she rocked the body of her uncle.
In the distance, the sound of sirens grew louder.
***
Once again, sleep had eluded him. Partly because of the constant pains that riddled his insides, but also because he was much too anxious.
Turning and twisting in his bed for hours, Jack wondered whether his message had been received. Or how long would it take to get a reply?
Evken had given him an electronic address. It felt so impersonal...
“Can’t I just meet him?” he’d asked.
“Rakash is not within easy reach of humans. This is the only way.”
“Will he answer?”
“He will. Though I cannot guarantee a positive one.”
With a groan, he reached out to the medicine on the nightstand.
His throat was sore from so much coughing.
He swallowed three pills and lay back down.
This time, he didn’t even bother to close his eyes.
What was the point?
He could tell he wouldn’t get any sleep.
What would he do if Rakash said no?
He had refused to consider that option ever since he’d sent his message. And yet, he knew it was a distinct possibility. Shouldn’t he prepare for it?
Should he then just accept his fate?
He’d thought of killing himself more than once.
It would ease the pain, at least.
But it felt so extreme.
He still had so much to do.
So much history to explore.
So many worlds to see.
But, more importantly, he didn’t want to die.
He wanted to live.
The pain in his liver made him wince.
His wristpad blinked red.
He sat up in his bed and stared at it.
A new message had arrived.
With a trembling finger, he tapped the mini-screen and brought up his inbox.
It was from Rakash!
He opened it.
Read.
Stared a long time at the mini-screen, until his vision blurred.
He wiped his eyes, then lay back down.
Now he knew he definitely wouldn’t be able to sleep.
How could he?
The message had been short and to the point.
June one word.
One cruel little word.
“No.”
A coughing bout made him double over in his bed.
He tossed the covers off him and grabbed angrily at a box of pills and tossed a bunch of them into his mouth, not bothering to count.
With a shaking hand, he drank from a bottle of water to help wash down the medicine.
He placed it back on the nightstand.
Well, if he couldn’t sleep, he might as well keep himself busy.
He stood and paused.
His head was spinning.
He felt dizzy.
Taking a few steps, he rested his hand against the wall.
He’d wait a few seconds for the wooziness to fade.
The pains grew within him.
It felt like something was gnawing at his insides.
He let out a loud groan. Grimaced.
Took another step toward the door.
Screamed as he toppled and fell to the floor.
When Victor ran into the room, he found Jack lying on the ground, his body shaken by violent spasms.
The boy immediately called for an ambulance.
***
They had lived many lives while they had slept.
They were trapped, yet they could dream.
And through those dreams, they had prepared.
Humans were so easy to manipulate.
With patience, over the course of centuries, one could lead them to believe anything.
They needed a world in turmoil... so they planted seeds, sowed rumors, and stoked fear.
By inspiring the foundation of religions. Were the Zendaar not gods, after all? Did they not live forever? Did they not possess inconceivable powers? Surely, they must be gods... And should gods not be loved and praised?
By whispering of the impious Weld that liked to meddle with that which they did not comprehend. This was not their world. Why did they come here? To steal our precious artifacts, our technology, our beliefs, our wealth...
By influencing the Zendaar as well. One would only need to tell them what they wanted to hear. Give them hope. Show them there was a path to those answers they sought. If only they would wake the dreamers. Were the Suryi not gods, after all? Did they not live forever? Did they not possess inconceivable powers? Surely, they must be gods... And would these gods not hold the answers to all of their questions?
They also needed tools... of both species. Creatures they could use for their purposes, and discard when no longer needed.
One who studied history could be of service. And what better way to give him purpose than an incurable disease?
One who hungered for power and revenge would be invaluable. Lure him in with the illusion of a bright future, wherein he would rule over all of his kin.
One who studied archaeology may prove useful as well. Feed him tantalizing bits of a mythical city to reel him in. Let him uncover the truth about the Zendaar and reveal it to the world.
But, more importantly, they needed the mask.
That was the most challenging part of all.
For only one of their kind could take it.
Their dreamskins were powerless, which left the cursed Xian.
Could they trick him into removing the mask?
That was unlikely.
But if the cursed Xian were to have a child, would that child not have that same ability? And would a child not be more malleable? All the moreso one uprooted from his family, and on a constant quest for answers?
The idea came to Thyria in a dream. It was a beautiful one, that played on all her fantasies and lusts. She so wanted revenge on the one who had spurned her. If only she could trick him into doing that which he had refused? How sweet a taste that would be on her tongue...
After the act had been consumed, they used magic to ensure she would bear a child. It was not something she had expected, so her reaction was unpleasant. They had to watch Alyssya, make sure she did not obey her mistress. It was at the young woman’s most vulnerable, when she was in tears, about to do the deed, that one of them came to her in a dreamskin and offered to take the child.
They then gave him to an orphanage and watched over him.
In later years, they expanded their influence to his friends. Inspired them to become historians...
Little by little, all of the pieces were set into motion.
For five thousand years, the Suryi slept.
For five thousand years, their dreamskins thrived and plotted.
***
The sky was dark and thunder roared in the distance.
Rain had not discontinued for over two days now.
All of them had been devastated by the news.
Could they have been so wrong?
They had stared at the mask, wondering how to use it, how to wake the gods... and yet, they were already awake.
Not only were they awake, but they were angry.
They had set forth their wrath upon the world.
But why?
Evken did not understand.
He had never met them when they first came to Qojja. Though they had done terrible things then, too, it had always been just—wreaking their wrath on those who had sinned the most. But then Xian, in his infinite wisdom, had put them all to sleep.
The legend said only the mask could wake them.
And now, they were awake.
And they hadn’t even needed to wear the mask.
They had met around the artifact again. This time to decide what to do with it. And, more importantly, how to talk to the gods. Could they use the mask for that purpose?
Lightning streaked the sky.
As Evken glanced through the window, his eyes paused.
Something was there. Growing.
He rose to his feet, leaned on his cane, and stepped outside the building.
The others, who had followed his gaze and noticed the incoming shape, joined him under the rain.
As the form grew, they saw there were three of them.
Though they still were far, they understood immediately and fell to their knees, bowing their heads.
The gods had heard them. And they had granted them an audience.
When finally they touched the ground, the wind that had carried them relented—though the rain did not.
The one they knew to be the leader sneered as he glanced toward the house—wherein the mask rested, on the same table as it had before.
“Had I not told you so, my brother, my sister?” he said, with a disdainful gesture toward the room. “Had I not said these frail, flawed creatures would flock to the mask, consumed by their insatiable greed, like bugs to a rotting corpse?”
“Oh, mighty ones!” dared Evken. “We are blessed to be in your presence. We have lingered so long for your return... would you tell us the meaning of our lives?”
The three of them turned their derisive gazes upon him.
“The meaning of your lives?” snorted Xhoras.
“Why are we so cursed?” insisted Evken. “Why are we not more like the humans? Why are we prisoners of this forsaken world? Who are we?”
“So many questions,” said Udrak.
“Silly questions,” remarked Verlhynn.
Xhoras lifted a hand to quiet them. There was a smile on his lips, though it was one filled with contempt.
“Everything serves a purpose. Birds rule over insects. Snakes rule over birds. Foxes rule over snakes. Humans rule over foxes... And the Zendaar rule over humans. It is the natural order of things.”
Evken glanced at Xhoras, not sure what to make of those words. Was that really all there was to it? Were they just a part of the chain, never intended for any other purpose? Was there nothing more? Was there no curse? Had they never been intended to be human after all?
“But,” he heard a trembling voice rise from behind him to echo his own thoughts, “is that all there is to it? Are we truly gods, then, if there is none to rule over us?”
It was Rosdak who had spoken. Evken knew him well. He had been there, that fateful night, when Rakash had enrolled them by force. He had been as much a believer and a questioner as he had himself been, as long as he remembered.
“I thought you’d never ask,” said Xhoras as he approached, reached out, and grabbed Rosdak’s face.
His friend tried to break free, but the Suryi’s grip was too strong. Those powerful fingers slowly sunk into the man’s skull. He screamed as his blood dried, his skin shriveled, his bones cracked, his eyes glazed, his hair thinned, and his life drained out of him.
Evken watched in horror as his friend’s disfigured and withered body fell to the ground—all that was left of him was an empty husk.
Only then did Xhoras respond, with a satisfied smile on his face:
“We rule over you, miserable worms.”
The god did not wait. He immediately turned to another of the Szelkin and grabbed his face as well, sucking all of his victim’s essence even as he spoke.
“Truthfully, you are nothing! There was a flaw in the design, you see. And while you are, indeed, more than the humans, you are also less. You never should have been. And so it is, you will be undone.”
As the other two Suryi struck down more of Evken’s companions, Xhoras let go of his latest victim and walked into the house to grab the mask.
Evken, who had been petrified with terror, suddenly snapped out of it and rushed to his feet.
Why were the gods killing them?
It made no sense!
Did they deserve to die?
Had they done something to displease them?
“Get up! Run!” he yelled to his friends.
But none of them moved.
They were too shocked, too mesmerized, perhaps even resigned to their fate as, one by one, they were annihilated.
Human servants stared in horror, though Evken noticed none of them were targeted by the Suryi.
Xhoras came back out with the mask in his hands and a satisfied expression on his face.
“Now, my brother, my sister... now, finally, we are free!”
As more of the Zendaar cried and screamed and died at the hands of the two mad gods, Xhoras held the mask up above his head. A multi-colored glow engulfed it as it emitted a vast amount of heat. Then a bolt of lightning suddenly came down and struck it. A blast of light sent rippling waves of shock through the ground and through the air.
Evken was blown against a tree as the mask exploded into a thousand colored fragments.