[Oh my, little, old Mitch. Is that the reenaction of kha-Jizar's siege, then what, is there a ploy for the rebellion as well?
Take this job seriously little elk, or else I'd be sure it won't be your last. I know you don't care, and this is exactly why I choose you for this job.
Drop this farce, you are anything but the cute, obedient type. None of your kin is, the spawn of Terron is bred for war after all.]
Old Mitch, kept tapping with his bony, greenish fingers, and their long ungroomed nails on the wooden supports of his hammock. He finally stopped and paused the show he had been watching since their arrival on Gaia.
He then took a quick peek at the strange being hatched from the egg. The creature was probably still learning about his body movements, even if it had time to wriggle and be consciously active inside the egg, it couldn't provide it any real experience to his neuro-muscular system.
Only now, did old Mitch notice how the creature seemed to not possess eyesight? Or did it, the humanoid face sculpted on his shell, indeed, possessed a pair. Small, pitch-black dull eyes, one could they had seen much, as if they could narrate a story on their own, without the need for words.
They were his eyes, or at least their perfect imitation. It made his skin crawl, well, all kinds of shapeshifters did. The slimy bastards made a living by stealing the identities of others, those that did not find them repulsive were very few.
He then saw the young Makhar rotate them, to observe his surroundings, the vegetation, the trees, the chirp of birds and the sound of insects, the rustle of trees, and the windy, spring breeze.
It stood up, weighing its body on its four posterior legs, its two antennas on the front wriggling around. Then slimy saliva coated his razor-sharp claws, probably it had, at least, some kind of paralyzing factor.
' How did it come to this, chained by my very feelings, which should have remained down there, inside Terron's pits. '
It had been their most valuable possession, that made their team stand upon the others across multiple galaxies. They had ventured deep, much more than any others, inside Ur-Akhar, the progenitor's tomb and probably the most dangerous place throughout this universe.
To obtain this living trophy Mark lost both his family and later on his very sanity. Mitch knew he had to tread carefully about this whole story, that this man had truly gone mad. Yet greenskin he was, it did not matter that the elk's intelligence peaked among the rest of the bunch.
He could wait no more, old Mitch had to heed his friend's call. He was about to respond in kind.
[Hey there, Captain, quite the hot pot you've thrown at me. To babysit one of those things in your stead. You relegated me down there for two years, for what?
Is it my fault that you have become such a degenerate, of course not. The moment we understood what it was, we decided to abide by the explorer's code, to not let it hatch.
You want me to speak out my real thoughts hey? I think you are a despicable, rotten fool. This thing won't make your dreams come true, it won't bring your dead wife back to life, and neither will it save your daughter.
It will only further fuel your sickness, and my nightmares. The only reason I have yet to kill it is that I have more love for my family than I do for myself.
Mitch out.]
Through the intergalactic communication device, sponsored to their team by the observer itself, Mark could feel the distress and rage inebriating the little elk's tone. Little Mitch was really mad, he did not like the situation that had been forced upon him.
Their accord, of protection for the elk's family, in exchange for his service was, in truth, very old. A few centuries past, young Mitch was indebted for life to this bizarre, eccentric human. But no, he had both the strength and knowledge to live by himself and take care of many others.
Down in the ruins, he repaid the man much more than what services he had to offer. His wits and supernatural perception saved their skin many times over.
Yet he couldn't refuse the man when he asked one last favor, and with reluctance he accepted. Not even the first day had passed and he was already regretting his decision.
He quickly set his System's utility interface to unconditioned entertainment. He needed a couple of days for himself, sometimes alone for his mind to rest. Only on extremely rare occasions ever did he unbottle his feelings, and open up to someone. Even if his tone had been harsh, it meant that he cared for the man, otherwise, he would have either ignored him or told another of his lies.
Inside the Mark's Ark, the man was writing through some papers, on a light brown birch desk, piles of papers and many old volumes piled over and over. The last memento of his home world, archaic remains that no one cared about anymore, untold stories of negligible relevance in the face of others. Yet, to him, were one of his most valuable possessions.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
In his free time, it relaxed him greatly to copy the ancient volumes to new, fresh paper, till said paper didn't become too old, and needed to be written once more. A perpetual cycle, that even if sickening to others, brought him relief, somehow.
" The brightest star of the galaxy, what is it that causes you trouble this time? "
A sweet, melodious voice interrupted Mark's diligent work. With a quick turn, he met Olga's bright red eyes.
Two pairs of black, curled horns adorned her oval-shaped head, seemingly forming a crown. The demoness was wearing a light, white tunic that highlighted her curves at the right spots. Behind her back rested a pair of folded, dark, flesh wings.
Mark was not in the best of moods, he turned around, back to his work. In a couple of hours he had to enter the machine once more, to begin a bio-rejuvenating cycle to delay the inevitable end of his body of flesh he so much despised. Although, said cycles had become less lengthy, as at this point he was more engine than man in flesh and bones.
Still, he couldn't procrastinate further, knowing he would be out for at least a couple of weeks, his mood plummed even further.
A pair of cold, gentle hands rested on his back, slowly massaging the rigid man. Olga certainly knew where flesh had remained and where steel took its place.
" I knew it would happen, it was inevitable for the fruition of my plans. The fewer allies he has, the better. I'm putting the young Makhar in a difficult position, to revoke this choice from the observer itself.
Mitch was my best shot, even if it meant damaging our relationship, hopefully, he'll come to hate him and his species, as many did in the past, and will in the future."
She could feel his burden, its weight crushing him since the day he fabricated such an absurd plan. She asked him multiple times to move on, escape from the past and embrace the future.
Yet Mark was an explorer, historian, and avid scholar. He raveled in the past, his mind often lingering on stories he heard and collected around the galaxy.
" If that is your choice, then at least see it till the end, where it brings you, without remorse. Else the past won't a strong anchor for your beliefs, but much rather a broken sail, guiding you to dangerous water."
A soft smile brightened her lips, as she slowly embraced his back.
"Is this anecdote from Salacar? I reckon you have some impressive water bodies there, you should bring me for a tour once I come out of the pod."
"Maybe, if you'd agree to that thing I told you I wanted to try, once you wake I'll take you there."
The stoic expression on his visage already responded negatively to the demoness.
Demons were generally like this, very open about their feelings, without care for their demeanor. To hide and repress their will was considered an act of the weak. To them, staying true to their spirit was of utmost importance.
For example, if a demon had the fame of being sly and wicked, it was simply because that was his nature, therefore they acted sly and wicked on every occasion, every word a lie, every action to spread evil.
"I'll wait then, I've got time. I'm going now, I leave the control of the Ark in your hands for a while."
Yet he had to admit it, even a small conversation such as this was much needed.
He then got up from his chair, feeling the smooth surface of the lion heads carved to its armrests, contrasting with the rough black leather of its cushion.
He smiled, showing the dark metallic hue of his teeth.
Since 'then', it never happened. He showed Olga his gratitude, to alleviate his loneliness he was grateful. the cadence, of his smile, however, was still tainted by pain and regret, a grimace that couldn't be quenched by time and good company. That much she knew.
A continuous change and repetition of images, induce a mixture between stream energy and natural photons, to display a curious game of light. It is called HSE, holographic stream encoder, a small chip the size of a nut, capable of recording holographic messages.
An overside hood, long mantle cascaded behind his back, and a big, round pair of goggles covered half his face. The light blue figure presented itself as Mark, a human.
He introduce the young Makhar to the situation he was currently in. The last of his kind, he had been given the chance to birth his race anew. Here, he could not lie, his interest had been piqued, how glorious of a thing, to become his race's new foundation and bring it back to its former glory and even further.
Well, even if its past had been glorious, to young Makhar didn't matter, the thirst for power and glory had been engraved in his bones since birth. These feelings, to him, felt very natural, his mental clarity consisted of growth and conquest, to expand and ingest.
Conscious of the young Ancient's desires, hologram Mark kept going with his explanation.
"The planet I have brought you to is formally called 9870 'Gaia', a newborn planet where a much peculiar event is being held. The game of conquest, also called the planet reconstruction. Here twenty different factions will compete against each other through war and wits for supremacy over this planet.
The arbiter of this game is none other than the great observer, usually referred to as the 'System'. A superadvanced, bio-artificial intelligence, which I'd define a not-so-impartial administrator of this universe, with the only goal being the greater good. If it thinks that such a thing will come out beneficial for the universe, then it will seethings till the end.
To predict the observer's behavior is not an easy feat, yet rather a fool's errand. Keep it in mind.
This holographic massage won't have much else to tell you, since the System will explain its workings to you in a much more detailed and comprehensible way. Just be sure to explore well the extent of its functionalities, as they will become your most valuable helper.
The little elk inside the tent has also been placed here, unwillingly, by me as a guide for you. I'll be honest here, I hope you two won't get along with each other, best case, you become enemies. Why? You'll eventually understand.
Before resuming your indifference towards the lowly elk, you'll have to ask him for an essential piece of equipment, a precious gift of mine for you. Demand him for Laura's latest device, a peculiar antenna capable of interfering with the System's game of conquest. Adding part of my research to the game's catalogs, don't worry though it won't get mad at you for it. If you've survived long enough to hear this information, it means the Observer is not against your permanence on Gaia.
In the middle of the antenna's main body, you'll find a little socket, it'll be the perfect fit for the chip you're using right now. Insert it, and you're all set.
To gain access to the system's interface just think about it with deep focus, later on, it'll come more naturally.
Good luck, young Makhar.
Mark, out."