Thousands of crew members on the board of Ancient Echo were preparing for the upcoming operation of the Narjahanam fortress capture. One of them was the Technician Operator. He stood in front of the closed gate leading to a vast hangar, listening intently to the scrape of the devices, the one-note clatter of heavy machines and the supervisors’ communications emanating from the inside.
The Kehrians of Jalandhara’s secret weapon was held there for almost two thousand years. Only several hundred people had access to it but no one, except The Technicians, could operate it. They handed this knowledge down from generation to generation, defending their secrets at all costs. The Jalandhara Tribe owed their existence, freedom and identity to The Technicians.
The hooded man glanced ahead and blinked. A counter showing the universal board time displayed in his augmented reality goggles. Since the day when the Technician’s title was bestowed upon him, he wore the traditional gown – knee-length, shimmery coat in navy blue colour with a triangular, crimson cloak. Golden arabesques and quotes of the first Technicians written in Savitri decorated the edges of the cloak, and an effigy of the sacred bird Simurgh shone on its back.
The Kehrian turned off the counter with a smooth movement of his thick glove, covered completely in sensors. Lights in the shape of oil lamps illuminated the corridor behind him, panelled in a material resembling stone. Parts of the carvings protruded from the walls, and the colourful mosaics, that even after hundreds of years did not lose their brightness, incrusted the floor. Every fine detail like the little, spiral inscription on the warrior’s pauldron, was copied with incredible precision by the greatest craftsmen. If electronic displays did not intertwine with the carvings, this ship could be mistaken for an ancient temple.
That was the Kehrians of Jalandhara’s main point. Faith and spirituality played a major role in each area of their life which was most noticeable during battles when hundreds of Rakshasas, enthralled in a ritual trance, darted ahead, reciting invocations and chanting verses dedicated to their Devas.
With this act, contradictory to the Ilionian Doctrine way, they became the enemies of the Union. Drawing the brutal lessons from the past, the Founders of the Union forbade believing in magic, alchemy and considering common people to be gods. The Kehrians did not accept their doctrine and declared war on the new, rising enemies.
He clenched his teeth, hearing the heavy hiss of the sliding gates as if a giant beast had taken its last breath. A mechanician, whose boiler suit was stained in black, shiny grease, stuck his head out the side of the gate.
“You got it?” asked the Technician.
The man nodded and brought a tiny, flat data carrier out of his pocket.
“We aren’t sure if this is a good idea too,” he said and gave him the device. The Technician turned it around in his fingers and after taking a closer look, he slipped it under his glove.
“Our Devi keeps too high a hope on ancient technologies,” he muttered so quietly that no one heard him and walked away. The door grated as it closed shut, and the roar of the working machines become quieter.
He passed the hurrying crew, trying not to get in their way, even though due to his status, he had a right to do so. He stepped into a private area of Devi Kali, well-guarded by drones and sensors. He stopped in front of the golden door with the carving of the bird. Bringing the device out, the Kehrian looked around. This part of the Ancient Echo was the only place free from hustle and bustle which was found in the rest of the ship. The chosen few, who had a right to stay here, worked on more important matters.
The Technician licked the corner of his lips and inhaling the smell of herbs in the air, he closed his hand on the reader. The door slid open before him. Feeling tension gripping his muscles, he marched inside and stood in attention.
Facing the silhouettes of the stars, blinking behind the illuminator sat Devi cross-legged in the middle of the round, empty chamber. Her armour, reflecting the pale starlight, resembled a ruby sculpture. Slow breaths, muffled by a mask, broke the silence of the room. Hearing this mesmerising sound, the Kehrian felt a shudder of both inner awe and mystic rapture penetrate into his being. A deep breath of incense smoke enveloped his stomach and lungs.
“Devi?” he called out. He folded his hands and bowed his head, still glancing at her.
The Kehrian woman got up leisurely in one move. A hiss made by the servomotors of her exoskeleton accompanied her every action. She turned around, revealing her ancient weapon, the Khanda, a token of Jalandhara’s warrior class. Gilded, double-edged sword had a blade as long as Devi’s hand, tipped with a blunt point, and its hilt was sculpted in the shape of braided roots.
“Is this so important that you interrupted my Sho’rin state?” asked Devi unintelligibly.
“Yes,” answered the Technician. “It’s about Kartikeya.” He could not look into her eyes, but he knew that this message touched her.
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The Kehrian woman tilted her head. “You should pronounce this name with more respect, Technician Operator.” She came closer, every heavy step echoed in the chamber.
“Obviously, Devi.” He glanced at the ground. “I’d like to remind you that we need to consider the fact that this machine, after a recent launch, is generating rather weird readings of our devices.”
“I expected it.”
The Technician narrowed his eyes. “And it doesn’t surprise you?” he asked, feeling her piercing sight, even though she still wore the helmet with the effigy of a legendary monster.
“Me? It should.” She nodded. “But not you. You are the Technician Operator for a reason. You know Kartikeya better than anyone else.”
The Operator gripped his hands. “All we know is that it was written two thousand years ago by unknown people.”
“Maybe we don’t know who the authors of Khara Scrolls are, but I’m sure those authors were familiar with their job. After all, thanks to them and Kartikeya, our ancestors won hundreds of battles and survived even the Golden Sun’s Havoc while the other Tribes were wiped out.” She raised her sword, glancing at the beams of light reflecting on it. “Deactivating it is like forgetting who we are.”
A sense of cold air blasted the Technician’s spine. Arguing with his Devi was a hazardous gamble, but she valued him too much to get rid of him. So he hoped.
“We all care for this mission.” He grasped his fingers. “That’s why I don’t support the usage of that weapon.”
Devi held her peace for a while, then asked, “Why?”
His pupils dilated. “It’s unpredictable.”
“Really?” She stepped towards him. “Maybe you’re just afraid that your mind is too weak to take control of those tons of coruscium?”
Drooping his ears, the Technician recalled all the hearsay and a recording, which he brought here.
The first few seconds showed the cameraman, running through a square and passing the workers on his way. A prismatic shape, covered in dark blue foil, towered over the Kehrians in the background. All of a sudden, an animal-like scream came from near the object. Everyone in the hangar, including the cameraman, stopped and turned their heads. The crew members standing close drew back, but the person recording it fought his way through the crowd and halted ahead of the rest. Ten metres above the ground, something under the foil started struggling. The thrashing creature descended down, yelling out unintelligible words. The cameraman stepped back when four people in light armours ran into the scene. The guards aimed their rifles at the hidden creature, but they did not fire. They just ordered it to stay away.
A Kehrian, dressed in a blue coat, jumped in front of the shocked workers. He pressed his ears with all his force, repeating, “Leave me alone, get out of my head, get away, leave me out!”
He took a few steps and fell down, curling into a foetal position. The guards approached him, asking questions, but the Kehrian leapt to his feet and darted ahead, gripping the weapon of one of them. The madman tugged the barrel, roaring, “Do it, faster, he’s inside my head!” He continued struggling until they overpowered him.
The armoured Kehrians were leading him out of the hangar when the cameraman zoomed his lens in to focus on the maniac’s face. The Kehrian had not blinked from the very beginning, and in his widely open eyes appeared only the truest form of a primal fear as if all the unimaginable atrocities and the most gruesome nightmares of this or any other universe had gathered there.
Dragging the Kehrian, the guards were passing between a pile of sheet metal and an inactive cutting machine. A large circular saw with protruding edges stuck out of its jib. The madman seized the opportunity. He leaned back and swung his head with all his strength. Without a word, he smashed and skewered his skull on the metal prong.
Shouts of shock resounded, after which silence fell again. One of the guards ripped the Kehrian’s head and removed it from the prong, leaving shreds of brain matter stuck between the tiny blades. Dark blood poured over his armour, from the breastplate to his heavy boots, and drained to the floor, forming a murky pool under his feet. The guard laid the dead Kehrian carefully on the ground and started wiping the slimy liquid away nervously. A few more unintelligible orders and snippets of the conversation sounded until the recording was over.
Those images stuck in the Technician’s mind to such a degree that whenever he could, he kept away from Kartikeya. A shudder of dismay pierced his bones even when he only looked at it. Towering eight stories over him, the ancient tons of metal seemed eerie and ominous to him as something that should have never been built. He considered it a cursed and specious creation of the evil, just waiting to catch the souls of the unsuspicious beings. Devi dismissed those theories, but many Kehrians supported his attitude. Working with Kartikeya, the mechanicians never parted with charms, figurines and other items bearing Simurgh’s effigy. Before they entered the hangar, they said the prayers which were meant to protect them or chanted the curses against the evil spirits nestled inside the machine.
What if Devi is right, the Technician asked himself, and it’s all just superstitions to scare the intruders away?
He was not going to appear as a coward, especially a few hours before the battle. Devi would never forgive him for suddenly backing out. He tightened the muscles in his hands and straightened up. “I am the Technician Operator. I can control every machine,” he said.
“I have no doubt.” Devi nodded slightly. “After all, our mission depends on you. Now go and make sure everything is prepared for the upcoming battle,” she commanded, turning around and facing the stars.
“Yes, Devi.”
“And don’t believe in those legends,” she added. “Only the ones who fear the might of technology say that.”
“Perhaps,” the Kehrian relaxed his hand, showing her the device, “this will convince you to think about it, Devi.”
She grabbed the item without looking at it and slipped it on her belt. “I’ve made up my mind. Kartikeya and the Technicians who control it are the pride of our civilisation. The day you make history again will be written on the walls of this ship.” She bowed her head. “Win for future generations.”
The Technician returned the gesture and walked out.
Devi sat in front of the illuminator again and closed her eyes. She did not have to keep her eyes open to feel her bond with space, connecting with her then extending to the next. She believed that she and the dark, cold void were in unicity. All the stars, bright and shining and millions of light years away, were within her reach. Each of those celestial bodies, from meteors to supermassive black holes, coexisted together in perfect harmony.
The harmony that Devi endeavoured to gain after hours of struggling with thoughts, fears and concerns occupying her mind.