Chapter 7

Harbingers

“I have seen many things in my time, but nothing as impressive as a Cerusian War Maiden who has gone full executioner.” – Private Recounting of the Harbinger Incursion

The Past

<13 Years Ago, a 5-year-old Arla>

“You did good kid,” Marcon exclaimed as he affectionately patted Arla on her head.

The task that she was currently being praised for had been simple, it was to read the letters of the Cerusian alphabet that lit up and cause the light to shine brightly.

According to experts the test was nearly impossible for those without Cerusian rods and cones in their eyes. These were of course different from what traditional humans, Beastkin, and other native races of the universe had at their disposal.

To Arla the task had been easy, for she only had to apparently read half of the symbols that were present, as only half lit up. Added to that was the fact that those that did light up were even easier to read, which made the whole process much easier.

“Now as I promised, since you managed to get this chapter down, you can ask one question that I will have to answer truthfully and honestly,” Marcon noted.

Hearing that Arla smiled inwardly, though her face could not show her emotion, lest Marcon try to change the rules of this game.

Still there were many questions that Arla had, which was good as the book they were given had a total of twelve lessons, meaning Arla would get twelve answers.

Part of her wanted to work ahead, as the work was easy. But she decided to stop, to pretend that it was tougher than expected, so Marcon might be more open with the answers he provided. Still there were twelve questions that she would be able to ask, which was why she started with what she considered to be the most important.

“You ready to ask your question, or do you wish to work ahead?” Marcon asked.

Arla took only a second before shaking her head, “I wish to ask my question now.”

“Well go ahead, the floor is yours,” Marcon noted with his characteristic half grin filling his face.

Not even wasting a beat, Arla asked the question.

“How did you meet my mother?”

Immediately upon hearing the question, Marcon tensed up, the traces of his smile going away, as he looked like he had been gut punched.

“What, why do you ask that?” Marcon asked, feeling that the question had come out of nowhere. That or he had expected her to be focused on something else entirely.

Arla for part just stroked the leather covering of the Cerusian text she had been given. A text that seemed to have many of the mysteries of the world explained within.

“Right, she gave you the text herself. Though you weren’t supposed to know that was her.” Marcon admitted, though his voice seemed to ring with words of forced power. As there was more to this statement than Arla originally remembered. Originally, she only remembered the “Right,” before Marcon eventually broke down and answered. Even then, there was just a faint echo that there was some form of connection to her and the book, now she had the answer for certain.

Arla for her part just stared at Marcon, not allowing herself to get baited into asking a different question that he would then answer immediately as the question. Nor would she let herself get distracted by his usual antics that were easy to get caught up in, if you didn’t realize.

“You really want to know this?” Marcon finally asked.

Arla just nodded her head.

“Fine, I met your mother at the start of the Great Harbinger War. A war that has all but been swept under the rug as little more than a police action at this time, due to how quickly we managed to resolve the threat posed by the Harbingers. I met your mother, when she was assigned to our elite platoon of soldiers as the Cerusian reinforcement. Needless to say we were underwhelmed by the number of troops provided,” at this point Marcon got a distant look to his eyes as he stared off and began continuing to answer.

“In fact, their perceived lack of resources being provided to the war effort, and the fact that the Cerusians were the only group that was part of the Harbinger war to not join the Federation is why they are mostly despised to this day.”

Hearing that Arla’s eyes grew wide, but she caught herself before she blurted out any more questions.

“Needless to say, we were wrong. We were all wrong, that one Cerusian soldier, your mother she was worth more than ten of our platoons combined,” then Marcon trailed off, as he seemed to remember something.

“She even saved my life. That was how I truly met your mother, we were out on a mission, completely surrounded by Harbingers, hundreds of them. I was being overrun, that’s when your mother quickly engineered some contraption to her back, and went in guns blazing. Normally the weight of what she had created would crush her, but she was in space, her natural element, meaning she had no fear, for Cerusians are a space race above everything else.”

“I will say that that was how I first truly met your mother, when she saved my life from being devoured by a horde of Harbingers,” Marcon concluded.

Then like that, the spell that had bound Marcon and forced him to bear his true thoughts and feelings was over.

Arla for her part could almost feel like she was there, experiencing that exact moment with Marcon. In her mind she even tried to figure out what her mother could have welded together to create such an apparatus. Her mind had a few ideas, but it was clear that Marcon himself might not know what truly went into that particular construction.

“Was that worthy enough of an answer for you?” Marcon asked.

Hearing that, Arla just nodded her head vigorously.

“Let me guess, due to that, you have more questions?” Marcon asked, as he did that same cocky smile came to his face.

Arla of course nodded her head, for who wouldn’t have questions after that.

“How about we use the next two questions to first explain what the Harbingers are? Then we can use the second question on how to kill the Harbingers, especially the way your mother killed them, which was an entirely different process” Marcon posed the idea as the next logical evolution of their discussion thus far.

Hearing his proposal, Arla just tensed up and squinted her eyes at Marcon, knowing that he was diverting away from the true topic she wanted to know about, her mother and her relationship with Marcon.

“Whoa there, easy with those eyes killer,” Marcon exclaimed in jest, “we have twelve full chapters, meaning you have eleven questions left. Surely it would be worth two of those questions to figure out why your mother of all people was stationed with little ol’ me right?”

Arla paused, her gaze still piercing into Marcon’s knowing smile.

With each second Arla stared at Marcon, she could feel her resolve slowly crumbling away as she was curious about these Harbingers, especially the way her mother managed to kill so many.

“Fine,” Arla hissed out, as she opened the book, and began speed reading through the chapters. In no time she had the light for the second chapters ablaze with light, then flipping forward, she continued reading the words that became more and more complex, but her mind had to know the answer. Which was why she totally lost sight of the con she had been pulling, or the one she had tried to pull on Marcon.

“What’s this? Were you sandbagging me?” Marcon noted in faux outrage as he just clutched his chest and pretended like Arla had wounded him severely.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Arla for her part just glared at Marcon, as the light at the end of the third chapter also glowed brightly.

“You sure you want answers? I mean wouldn’t you want an ice cream cone or something?” Marcon asked.

Arla just glared.

“Fine, fine. You are far too cute when you are all riled up,” Marcon exclaimed as he reached forward and rustled Arla’s hair before giving out the answers.

“Okay what was the question we agreed upon?”

Arla again just glared.

“Right, right. What are Harbingers? Well to be clear it is a catch all phrase for creatures that come from other parallel universes and have made their way to ours. This transfer in status is why the Harbingers don’t have the great system in them, nor do they have…” Marcon began but trailed off.

“Wait, you don’t know about the great system nor how it activated did you?” Marcon asked, his mind going wide as he realized yet another question that Arla would burn away.

Arla paused for a second, and then shook her head.

“Would you like to know why we all have the system, and why we can gain strength and power after an awakening?” Marcon asked.

Arla paused, her mouth going wide, this too was something she had wondered about, for how could Marcon be so strong.

Finally, after a second Arla nodded in agreement.

“Okay, so after I finish this question, we will go to how to kill Harbingers, then on what Metachondrial are and how they are the awakened form of mitochondrial,” Marcon stated, his smile wide as he seemed to use up yet another of Arla’s questions.

“So now, where were we? Oh right, Harbingers aren’t a singular species, but a whole conglomeration of creatures that seem to have appeared out of nowhere…”

***

The Present

Crackle.

Just when everyone thought they would be safe, one of the casting Harbingers let loose a burst of irradiating heat. Immediately upon contact with the outside wall of the protective cube they were in, the translucent film that had shown the universe around the cube began to sizzle out.

Now this did not mean that the cube lost its structural integrity from that blast alone, but it did send a wave of panic through the daughter of Mr. Fortuna.

“My dear, if you are feeling worried at this point, then might I suggest lying down and melding with the mechanoid couch you are sitting upon?” Mr. Fortuna stated.

“Right,” was all the daughter said, before her head lowered down, and the shadow of her feet from under the couch disappeared.

At this point, Arla realized just how much of a setup this entire operation was.

For a moment Arla contemplated disabling the couch mid-transformation with a highly concentrated burst of her energy. It wouldn’t do much, other than overload the couch and prevent it from sealing properly.

Yet, that was not the immediate concern.

Her concern was the lack of air.

Fortunately, Arla had been wearing her space suit, which meant with a quick tug of the helmet over her face, making sure to lock the condensation respirator under her eyes so her goggles didn’t fog up, and a quick touching of her seals and activating her Cerusian air purification rune that was sewn into the inside of her suit and she was fine.

The entire process took only 15 seconds, slower than her best time, but the immediate reactions took over thanks to all the constant training Marcon always put her through.

Even now she could remember him calling out, “if you want to sleep without your mask on your face, you need to be prepared to put it on even in your sleep.”

Words to live by, not quite robust enough for a rule, but close enough given how many times he made that exact statement.

A quick cursory retracing of her finger over the neckline of her suit, where she made sure to infuse energy to the sealing portion of her modified Cerusian space suit and she was ready for even the deepest depths of space.

While her suit did not look overly large compared to those of traditional Federation soldiers, hers had a self-healing function. Well, not quite a self-healing function, as Arla herself had to initiate the process with her Spirit Infusion (S) power, which made it so activating all Federation standard enchantments, and even dormant Cerusian runes were possible. This meant that her suit, if ever punctured, pierced, or cut would only need a quick application of her energy, and the material would begin to weave itself together almost immediately.

This was why she went for the sleeker, form fitting Cerusian suit model, versus the bulkier industrial models of the Federation. While the Federation did have better protective barriers, hers had layers within layers that could seal up and be made operational in minutes, as opposed to the hours required by the Federation suits.

With her suit’s integrity confirmed, Arla began moving. No longer was she worried about being stabbed in the back by these two, for they were in the process of having both the luxury chair that Mr. Fortuna sat upon, along with the couch that was now transforming into a miniature battle suit, Arla was fairly convinced that this was not a trap for her.

Still, even if it was a trap for her, Arla realized that her next actions would help ensure it wasn’t a masterful trap for her after all.

Infusing energy into her hand, Arla made a blade like material appear just at edge of her fingertips.

With the spiritual blade infused by her offensive utilization of Spirit Infusion, Arla went to the left hand wall. Well the wall to her left, the original right hand of the entry way. There she jabbed her hand forward at the base of the wall. She aimed at a spot two inches down from where the battery pack of the off-set plasma cannon rested.

“What are you doing?” The screeching voice of a terrified daughter cried out. Her voice amplified and almost deafening due to the modulation placed on her vocal tones due to the mechanoid unit’s rebroadcast.

Still, despite the pain, Arla didn’t stop her actions. Instead, she lifted her hand up the two inches, bowing out the base of the wall. A base that would have flopped away once the plasma cannon came to life.

With careful and practiced grace, Arla began cutting off parts of her power to individual fingers, while slowly cutting away the cannon’s connection to the wall, while not damaging the powerpack at all.

Most would pause, or at least hesitate when performing such delicate operations, knowing that even a slight miscalculation of the energy applied to remove a battery from the wall could result in a secondary explosion at best.

However, Arla was filled with the knowledge of the universe, not only was she aware of Faction training and maintenance, she could feel the intuitive Cerusian side of her consciousness also telling her what was right.

Arla of course was too engrossed in her own operations to even give credence to the frightened words of the daughter, Arla’s future business partner. Instead, she just focused on first removing the oversized cannon from the wall, draping part of the wiring over her shoulder, the way one would grab an industrial strength shop vac hose and let it dangle over your shoulder before cleaning up a particularly grungy area.

In this case, Arla, was busy, modifying her suit to help hold onto this deadly weapon. By touching and applying a bit more energy, she caused the film of her outer suit to grow up, over and around the battery pack that now rested on her left hand side. The cabling hose that connected the power supply to the plasma cannon was also partially sealed under the suit. Not completely, but enough to make it so Arla did not have to keep touching the cannon out of fear that it would fall off her shoulder completely.

With the first cannon secured, Arla went over and began doing the same to the alternate side, with the first plasma cannon that Arla noticed upon entering the room.

“Stop that!” The woman exclaimed, for a second Arla paused as she could feel her senses telling her that the girl was about to do something stupid, like set off live rounds within the sealed container.

Fortunately, for Arla, Mr. Fortuna was there, and he spoke as if he had expected this to happen from the start.

“Calm down my dear, and if you are patient, you will get to see one of the true marvels of the universe?”

“And what exactly is that, other than this person ripping up our cube and making us defenseless here,” The daughter exclaimed.

Chuckle.

“You are in a fully protective top of the line Mark V Centipede space suit that can alternate as a decorative couch. You have nothing to worry about. Also, why you are here. Why the both of you are here, is so that you my darling can see something truly amazing.”

“And what exactly is that?” The daughter asked, her tone calmer, even while Arla was in the process of ripping apart the wall again and tearing out the components for the second plasma cannon.

“You get to see firsthand what a true Cerusian War Maiden is capable of in a fight,” Mr. Fortuna stated.

Rattle, rattle, rumble.

With that, more and more of the outside world faded away as the energy-wielding Harbingers all continued to direct more and more bursts of wild energy towards the protective cube.

“Will the cube hold?” The daughter asked, fear evident in her tone.

“Not a chance,” Mr. Fortuna stated.

“So how are we going to survive?” The daughter asked, fear evident in her tone.

Arla for her part could almost feel the mocking smile of Mr. Fortuna piercing into her back.

“I’m going out,” Arla said. Then snapping her fingers, something that was tougher to do in a space suit than she had intended, Arla used her primary power Ignition (S), on the spoiled princess.

This way the princess would be less likely to shoot her in the back.

Arla didn’t know what powers the girl would get, and honestly, she didn’t care.

The girl was on her own, and Arla would try to avoid these two from now on.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll find my own way out,” Arla stated calmly as she began breaking through the various mechanical overrides that the protective door had. Being on the inside this was a lot easier than other times Marcon made her break into such devices.

“Don’t you want to hear about what happened to Marcon?” Mr. Fortuna asked.

Hearing that, Arla inherently flinched as she looked to the smug business man. Seeing his smile, it was clear that he had some information on Marcon, that or he was really good at bluffing.

Realizing that this trip had been a complete bust, complete with a broken power that seemed to link moments of the past, and future all at once, Arla was fairly certain she could have done without this whole process to begin with.

“I’m good,” Arla stated, as she clicked out the last of the major support beams for the safe door.

“You don’t want to hear about him, at all?”

“No, he’ll tell me when he’s ready,” Arla spat out, and then before Mr. Fortuna could spout out any more of his snake oil sales pitch, Arla burst open the door, leveled her two plasma cannons and began quickly blowing through the horde of multi-sized Harbingers who were now surrounding the protective cube.

As she left, she closed the door, that once again showed a clear image of the one girl firing two industrial sized plasma cannons from her shoulders.

“How can she do that?” The daughter found herself asking.

“Well, now that the hull of our main ship is breached, the gravity compensators are offline, meaning those cannons are effectively weightless out there.”

The two watched as the girl made her way quickly and accurately through the horde of enemies. Somehow making sure to target the casters first, before focusing on each and every enemy present.

Watching her, the daughter could only stare on in awe at the spectacle.

Then finally the daughter asked, “just who is Marcon?”

Snort.

“Let’s hope that you never have to find out.”

***

The Future

<6+ Years from Now, a 24-Year-old Arla>

Knock, knock.

No sooner had the newest Mechanical Lieutenant admitted to their base leave, than Gerund Commander Hylinch’s executive officer (XO) knocked at her door.

“Come in,” Commander Hylinch declared.

With that Executive Officer Gerund came in, quickly saluted as per protocol and then just stared at his commander.

“You have questions?” Commander Hylinch asked.

“Yes, why did you waste so much political clout on moving up the rankings list to get her?” Executive Officer Gerund asked.

At this Commander Hylinch just let out a devious smile, as she looked at her XO, trying to get his full measure.

“You doubt my choice?”

At the question, Gerund shifted slightly in place, before ultimately nodding to himself and pushing forward.

“Yes, by all means she is average. Barely passed with a Mechanical doctorate, despite being a Cerusian. Also, there is the fact that her hair and eyes clearly show she has no regard for our regulations.”

“First off, there are no rules or regulations that cover the natural hair or eye color of an individual soldier in the Federation. Secondly, what do you mean she is average?” Commander Hylinch asked, clearly curious about this notification.

“From every record I found, it showed that she barely passed each of her Engineering and Mechanical related classes, despite her obvious racial proclivities towards being mechanically inclined,” Gerund stated, clearly noting the inherent stereotype that all Cerusians were gifted with a mechanical acumen that far exceeded societal norms.

With that Commander Hylinch just nodded to herself.

“Let me pose it to you this way. You clearly don’t want her here do you, despite what you think she might or might not be able to do?” The Commander asked.

“But she can’t the transcripts prove she is menial at best,” Gerund exclaimed.

Hearing that Commander Hylinch just shook her head.

“You are looking at this all wrong.”

“Am I now?”

“Yes, you are looking at it from the perspective that she should have dominated the standings of her graduating class, while being expelled for unknown reasons, right?”

“I well, I, yeah…” Gerund found himself agreeing with that, as it was clear he would have failed her out on some technicality.

“Then think of it as she was so good, that despite preconceived biases, they gave her a doctorate in spite of their biases,” Commander Hylinch concluded.

“But this still doesn’t explain why you wasted so many resources to effectively pick the first overall choice of graduating cadets, if you were going to waste it on her?”

Hearing that Commander Hylinch just smiled a coy knowing smile.

“Perhaps, we shall just have to wait and see what she is truly capable of then.”