Chapter XLV
Captain Izahlak let out a sigh of relief as the lights suddenly went out, and the gun down the hall died. The emergency lights came on only a second later, allowing the unaugmented krin the ability to see in what would have otherwise been a pitch-black corridor. “Report! Who did that?”
“Sergeant Teraloc reporting, sir,” the captain heard through his receiver. “We managed to cut through the computer room’s doors and fry the thing, but I’m afraid the computer techs are all dead. It was the middle of their work cycle, after all.”
Captain Izahlak swore under his breath, before stomping out of cover to make his way to the bridge. “Keep me informed on your progress.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Lieutenant Vistof, what’s the word from the bridge? Were the instruments at all active during our stint in the outlands?” Captain Izahlak asked as he reached a set of sealed doors. It would take him a few minutes to do a manual override, which gave him plenty of time to ponder how he and his ship had managed to get into this predicament.
“They were, sir. Were active the whole time, though we were knocked out of the fight pretty early. Our weapons and engines are both down, and we’ve sustained significant damage to the hull,” Lieutenant Vistof responded. “Our state is pretty good, though, compared to some of the other ships. A few were experiencing an active core breach right before the computer died, while several others were making forced entry into a nearby Verta-class planet’s atmosphere.”
Captain Izahlak swore under his breath as he pried open the blast door’s control panels. “Who were we fighting?” he asked as he began to turn the wheel.
There was a slight pause at that, and Captain Izahlak got the distinct impression that the lieutenant did not want to be the one to deliver the bad news. Luckily for him, Commander Sithra decided to take pity on the poor soldier, and tell the captain himself. “It was the Holy Armada, sir. Or, at least, a large portion of them.”
Captain Izahlak swore much louder at that, before finally turning the wheel enough to pry open the door. “Tell me some good news, pl-”
The captain stopped short, however, when he turned the corner to make his way down the newly opened hallway, only to nearly run headlong into the barrel of a quzin disintegrator cannon. Izahlak couldn’t see the snake’s face through his helmet, but he really didn’t need to. The snake’s finger on the trigger was enough to let the captain know that he was one wrong move away from knocking for entrance on the Battlemaster’s doors.
“Drop it!” the snake said, his tone belligerent, as if just begging the captain to do just the opposite.
Captain Izahlak was too smart for that, though, not to mention that he was on this thing’s side, and really didn’t want to be the reason for an all out war between the krin confederacy and the quzin theocracy. With slow, deliberate movements, the captain held his plasma rifle out to his side, and slowly bent down and placed it on the ground, all while holding his upper arms together at the palms in the krin symbol of surrender.
Once the weapon was out of his hands, several other quzin behind the first one swarmed forward, quickly patting him down as they searched him for any other weapons. Izahlak could hear his people asking what was happening through his headset, but he didn’t dare answer, especially when one of the snakes took the headset from him.
“He’s clean, sir,” one of the snakes said as the others cuffed him from behind.
“Your name and rank?” the first snake asked as Captain Izahlak was forced into a sitting position, his four legs folded underneath him.
“Izahlak, Captain, and we unconditionally surrender,” Izahlak said, his back straight as he stared into the snake’s featureless helmet. “If you give me back my headset, I will tell my entire crew just that. We don’t want to fight.”
“You don’t want to fight?” the snake asked, his voice incredulous. He then began to laugh in the manner of his people, a truly unsettling hissing sound that made it seem like the snake was about to eat Izahlak right then and there. “Your fleet’s conduct would say otherwise.”
“We lost control of our computer systems,” Izahlak shot back, not backing down even for a second. “We arrived in this system under false pretenses, and quickly lost control.”
“Sure… I believe you…” the snake said, before he drove a fist into Izahlak’s stomach with enough force to crack the segmented, and somewhat weaker, chitin in that area. “Why don’t you tell that to the millions of children of this system your fleet just slaughtered? I’m sure they’d love to hear about how you’re completely innocent.”
“...It’s… true…” Izahlak managed to gasp, the pain in his gut letting him know that he probably ruptured something. “Turn the hallway… and you see the proof…”
The leader of the small band continued to eye Izahlak suspiciously, before he nodded to two of the snakes behind the captain. Izahlak heard them say something in their own tongue, and though he was proficient in the snake’s common tongue, he was in far too much pain to even think about what it meant.
He caught full well what was said once the two turned the corner, though. “Sir, you’ve got to come see this yourself…”
The group leader shot Izahlak one more scathing look, before he slithered off to see what the fuss was about.
He wasn’t gone for long.
“What’s the meaning of this?” the snake asked as he slithered quickly back, a burnt half of a krin head in his hand, still leaking grey blood.
“That was Lieutenant Yitt,” Izahlak said as he coughed up a little blood of his own. “We were attacked by our own ship, the automated defensive systems turned on us. We’re innocent, and if you’d let us, we’re perfectly willing to surrender unconditionally.”
The group leader didn’t say anything, and for the longest time Izahlak thought that he was about to be executed right then and there. Finally, the group leader gestured to his nags, and Izahlak felt the bonds around his wrists cut, before something was shoved into the krin’s hands. “Tell your people to stand down.”
Izahlak nodded mutely before pressing the headset’s headphone to his earhole, the microphone near his mouth. “Attention crew, we’ve been boarded by the Holy Armada. Stand down, I repeat, stand down, and await further instruction. If a snake approaches you, you put your gun down, and do what he says, understand?”
“...Sir, are you alright?” Sithra asked, clearly worried.
“I’ll be fine, Commander. Just hold back, and await further orders,” Izahlak said, before lowering the headset. “There… what now?” Izahlak asked, his eyes seeking out the featureless helmet of the group leader.
The snake was quiet, his armored face revealing nothing of what he was thinking. His voice, however, seemed to be filled with a rage that Izahlak could feel. “Now, you head back to the boarding craft. We have a beacon there to transmit you to The Guiding Light. You’ll receive medical attention, and an interrogation, and I hope for your sake that you’re telling the truth.”
Izahlak was roughly picked up by the two flanking snakes, before being dragged off. He was rather glad they were taking the initiative, because he was unsure if he could make the trip under his own power. He had no way of knowing, but he was pretty sure the enhanced warrior had damaged something important when he had struck him.
Izahlak did not hold it against him, though. He laid the fault of the pain, as well as his dead crew, solely at the feet of that accursed emperor and his treacherous, cowardly followers.
* * *
I purposefully made my way through the halls of Mithra-na-la Tor, or as the pony’s translation spell rendered it, “Cantering Castle,” searching for a kitchen area to fill my belly, or at the very least, to get a snack to tide me over. Use of my special, computer-based powers did not come without a cost, namely a hunger not quite like anything I had experienced before. Seriously, it felt like I could eat three moose myself, and I was starting to get desperate enough to forgo cooking said meat entirely, if only to get it into my belly faster.
None of the ponies looked all that surprised once I voiced my concerns after coming out of my trance. Apparently, it’s a common ailment from overusing magic, and they honestly looked somewhat relieved when I had told them about it. They spared no time in pointing me in the right direction for the kitchen, and had even offered to send a soldier to make my request easier, but I had turned them down. I could speak the language now, and by this point, the only staff still inside the castle were soldiers, most of which would have been more than familiar with the monster that had started this whole debacle, so I wasn’t too worried about anything horrible happening.
Yeah, I felt a little guilty about skipping off to lunch, especially with all the crap going down back on Earth, as well as all the work that still had to be done on this side, but I knew well enough to know that, outside of translating duty, there was very little help I could offer that wouldn’t result in widespread panic.
Besides, I had been a monster long enough to know better than to ignore my body’s needs. I used to be human, sure, and even retained a lot of my former strengths, but there were still hard limits set on the more mechanical components that made up my form. Specifically, I had very stringent calorie and water requirements. I could ignore them for a time, but not after using my magical powers for an extended period of time, apparently.
So, it was with a noisily rumbling belly that I eventually made it to the kitchens closest to the portal. There was a mixture of both humans and equines here, all busy working on feeding the combined armies of Earth and Equuis, which made it all the harder to ask them to stop what they were doing to make me a sandwich. “Excuse me, but-” I started to say, causing the closest human to glance up briefly.
He nearly threw the knife he was carrying at me when he saw my ugly mug, but quickly settled down when he recognized me. “Ah… you’re the guy from the U.N. meeting, aren’tcha?” he asked, speaking in a hauntingly familiar, if somewhat thick Boston accent.
“Yeah, I’m Alex,” I said, smiling in what I hoped was a friendly manner as I extended a hand. “I hope I’m not imposing, but I was wondering if I could get something to eat. Gone without since… Well, probably an hour before I first returned to Earth, now that I think about it…”
The soldier didn't take my hand, as he was currently covered in all sorts of stuff from cooking, but still seemed friendly enough. At the very least, he didn't exactly take too kindly to hearing that I hadn't eaten in almost two days. “Scuttlebutt says you got shot at the museum. What were you thinking?”
“Well, I guess I wasn’t. To be honest, the whole thing’s been a bit of a blur, and I’d honestly just forgotten by this point.”
“Well, let me whip something up for you, buddy,” he said, quickly turning to one of the others that was watching with quite a bit of interest. “Hey, Johnson, get a plate together for the kid, will ya? And stop gawking. It’s like you’ve never seen an Alien flick before…”
I shook my head, laughing inwardly a little bit as the kitchen staff quickly ladled me up some grub. It was still hot, too, probably since dinner hadn’t been all that long ago, considering how night had already started to fall.
The grub itself wasn’t anything too fancy, either. A simple meat stew, some hard biscuits, and a can of fruit. The real joy in such a simple meal came from the fact that it was all-American style food, made from real Earth products and animals, and served on an all-too familiar cafeteria platter. It might have been a simple showing, but as I turned to make my way back to my room, intent on snacking on it the whole way there, it looked absolutely perfect.
I was so enraptured by this little taste of home that I wasn’t quite looking out for where I was going, and nearly ran into someone coming the other way. “Sorry about that,” I muttered, looking up from my biscuit, only to nearly choke when I saw who it was.
Akitesh was standing there, looking far, far more ragged then I had last seen her. Her once pristine white and gold armor was now covered in soot and blood, and there were a number of really nasty bruises showing through on her once nearly shimmering green scales, as well as a particularly nasty gash across her brow. As bad as all of that was, however, it was nothing compared to the tired, slightly crazed, slightly fearful look in her eyes as she stared at me, as if half-expecting me to leap out at her and strangle her. I carefully backed up a little, before clearing my throat to get her attention, and hopefully snap her out of whatever she was going through. “Uh, Akitesh, it’s good to see you again. I take it you and your crew just managed to get back to the castle?” I asked in Krin as I put the biscuit down and got a more sturdy hold of my tray. “You… look terrible, though. Shouldn’t you be with the doctors? You’re bleeding.”
She didn’t seem to hear me at first, shaking her head as if trying to rouse herself from a daze. “That can wait… I must speak with you. It is important.”
“More important than not bleeding out?” I pointed out as I stared at the blood that was oozing out of the gash on the priestess’s forehead. A grunt of irritation caused my attention to wander, and I quickly spotted an equine next to her, looking none too happy about his current assignment. “Why isn’t she with a doctor?” I asked him in his native tongue.
“We tried, but she refused. She said it was urgent she spoke with you. Said it was a matter of life and death,” the stallion reported, his voice showing just how much he disagreed with her.
I looked back up at the priestess, before sighing in frustration. “Well, I got time, I guess. What’s the matter?” Akitesh opened her mouth, but no words came out as a look of confusion and fear quickly washed over her. It honestly made her look far worse than she had before, and I started to wonder if she was suffering a concussion or something similar. “Are you okay?” I asked, causing her to jump, as if she had forgotten I was there.
“Yes… I… I’m just having trouble thinking of how to phrase this…” she muttered, before she seemed to think of something. “Tell me, Alexander, I know your people do not have the power of spirit, but what legends do you have? Surely you have some tales about beings capable of things beyond what is normally possible?”
“I don’t see how that’s important right now… I mean, we have legends, but how will that help us kill bugs or save dying ponies and humans?” I asked, somewhat confused by her line of questioning.
“I… saw something that your people did,” Akitesh said evasively, looking down and rubbing one of her shoulders, as if remembering something unpleasant. “Something that doesn’t make sense, something that shouldn’t be possible, especially given that your people are new to the power of spirit. I was hoping to glean some additional understanding through your legends, for they often contain far more truth than one would think.”
I pursed my lips as I considered her, trying to figure out where she was going with this. I didn’t brush her off entirely, since those legends she was asking about were surprisingly relevant, all things considered, I just didn’t know how much I wanted her to know, yet. “I understand,” I started, being careful about how I phrased my words. “To tell you the truth, we have legends about horned equines, and ones with wings. We even have legends about fire lizards, several other races that exist on this planet, as well as magic itself. Knowing that we have a portal, it brings some of those legends into focus, and makes me wonder just how many of them were fantastical tales, and how many were historical facts.”
She seemed to brighten up at this. “Exactly! So… any legends you could tell me would be helpful…”
I didn’t answer immediately, instead choosing to raise my tray a bit. “How about we head back to the mess hall, and sit down while we talk about this? I’m kinda hungry, and this may take a little while.”
She nodded, and in a few minutes we made our way to one of the tables that the U.S. Army soldiers had set up in the room they had claimed as their mess hall. The snake’s guide was still there, but he had opted to stand off to one side rather than join us. I took a few more bites, not wanting to discuss old Earth legends on an empty stomach, but Akitesh seemed way, way too impatient to let me just eat. “So? What can you tell me?”
I swallowed the beef stew in my mouth, somewhat put out that I couldn’t take the time to savor it, before shaking my head. “Honestly, we have far too many stories and legends to be able to go over right now. It would take years to tell even a handful of them. More importantly, I’m hardly an expert. Most of what I know is just stuff that I’ve picked up over the years, either through distorted sources, or from my own curiosity. I know enough, though, but it would probably be better if we started with you,” I said, steepling my hands over my plate as I stared her down. “What exactly did you see? Did any of my people summon fire? Teleport? Feats of unbelievable strength? What exactly are we working with?”
“I… I’m not sure what I saw…” she muttered as she traced a finger on the table between us. “If it were just those things, I could at least understand it, as those are all powers gifted to the quzin by the Creator… This was something different, though…”
“Well, I can’t help you if you’re just going to dance around the issue,” I said before taking another bite out of my biscuit. It was hard and chewy, but it was actually wheat, which tasted of promises of flavors and textures I thought I had lost forever.
I couldn’t savor it for long, though, since my unwanted dinner guest hadn’t given up on her very roundabout quest for answers yet. “Is there any… any tales of the dead rising from their grave?” she asked, before she screwed up her face, as if preparing for ridicule or outrage.
I didn’t dare do either, though. How could I, since I’m sitting in a hall constructed by literal unicorns? I thought as I took a swig of the cup of water that had been provided with my meal. Compared to that, stories of the dead rising from their graves looks practically mundane…
I didn’t say that to her, though. Instead, I kept staring at her, thinking about how best to phrase what I wanted to tell her. It was hard, considering that not only did I want to keep a few things about humanity a secret from this unknown agent, but also because the krin language didn’t seem to have a word for ‘zombie.’
I finally decided that there probably wouldn’t be that much harm in divulging something as simple as old horror stories, as those could easily be found on Earth's Internet, so I cleared my throat again, and dove head first into what was probably a mistake. “…Yes, we do. A lot, actually, and far too many to count. The krin tongue doesn't seem to have any specialized words for the things in our tales, but we certainly do. There’s the vampire of European lore, Norse revenants, vengeful spirits, you name it. We have tales of ghosts haunting houses and battlefields, horrible corpses rising from the dead with a thirst for blood, and of course, the more modern take of the brain-eating zombie. Find a culture on my planet, and I’ll be willing to wager everything I own that they have some kind of legend or tale of the dead rising from the grave. Each tale gave its own reason for this, too, be it unholy spirits from the underworld, mischievous fey, or even just unfinished business or a desire for revenge. That last one is the most common, though, and usually have the most horrifying stories attached to them.”
She looked strangely relieved by that, though there was still an undercurrent of fear there, mixed with an emotion that I couldn’t quite place. “Thank you… I feel… less insane after hearing that,” the snake lady said, taking a second to wipe the blood that had leaked into her eye. She then stood up again, before bowing to me ever so slightly. “Thank you for your time, I will obtain medical aid and rest, now. Please, enjoy your dinner.”
“Wait, that’s it? You didn’t even hear any of the actual stories!” I said, a little put out. “What did you see that prompted this question, anyway? I mean, it’s not like other species wouldn’t have stories of the dead rising. Death is a pretty mysterious thing, and not a whole lot of people know what happens after you die, so shouldn’t tales like that be common? What happened that made you so… terrified?”
She looked at me for a second, her stare a million miles away, before she shook her head. “You are wrong. Most races have terrible and horrifying stories, of monsters from the dark coming to eat you, and things from beyond breaking through to our reality to steal our souls, of dark gods and vengeful evils… but tales of the dead rising? Those are exceedingly rare among species not your own, and with good reason,” Akitesh said, her tone deadly serious. “For those that come from planets with stronger spiritual fields, The Veil is a mysterious and terrible thing. A known, yet unfathomable fact of creation from which no one has ever come back from. It draws the dead to it almost instantly, leaving very little behind, if anything at all. Only those with especially strong feelings of regret or vengeance can even hope to leave behind shards of themselves, and even then, they must be strong of spirit first. Even with these remnants, however, everyone still knows that it is impossible to return. Any stories they do have tend to revolve around mad wizards seeking to see a loved one one last time, and even those are quite rare.”
“That… doesn’t make any sense…” muttered, not able to grasp what she was saying. “Even if they knew that there was no way to return, surely they would still make up ‘what if’ stories, which would eventually become legends-”
“There are, but like I said, it is something that is rare among those that can interact with the veil, if only because of how dangerous that barrier is,” Akitesh interrupted me, shaking her head. “As for those whose cradles were more akin to your own, such tales are more common, but still not nearly as common as what you imply. Simply put, the veil is exceptionally dangerous, and most species that gain some control over their spiritual field soon learn from bitter experience that such a thing is better left alone.”
“Makes sense… except, why would you ask me at all, then?” I asked, stopping her in her tracks as she attempted to retreat. “If those stories are so rare, so unheard of, then why did you think to ask at all? What did you see out there?”
Akitesh went very, very quiet after this, and for a moment, I wondered if whatever she had seen had truly been that awful. She then turned to me, and I could see tears in her eyes, and a horror lurking there that I could not even begin to describe. “I… cannot say now. It is something your people must learn for themselves. A word for the wise, however: it may be a good idea not to mention your people’s obsession with the dead to other species, especially to those capable of harvesting and using soul shards…”
Without another word, she turned and left, taking her guide with her, and leaving me wondering what the hell just happened.
* * *
High Priest Yovakior looked out over the world below, his stare cold and empty as he listened to the damage reports. Not of his fleet, though, as the enemy had not even so much as fired a shot at the Holy Armada. In fact, the enemy ships had barely used their weapons at all, only firing to intercept the Armada’s more devastating drones and missiles that would have prevented them from reaching their real objective.
No, High Priest Yovakior was listening to the damage reports of the planet below. Most of it was in the human’s language, spoken in tones of fear, pain and horror, despite the otherwise gibberish nature of the tongues of the humans. He would not turn it off, though. He couldn’t, not after failing to stop this travesty.
It was his burden to bear, and he sought to burn the torment of these children into his mind, to bring to bear their pain as his own when he finally brought the one responsible to justice.
He wasn’t alone, either. Sitting on a stool in the middle of the high priest’s waiting room, surrounded by the high priest’s personal guard, was Captain Izahlak, looking fairly worse for wear. He had been healed somewhat from the rough treatment that Yovakior’s nags inflicted upon him when they had first obtained the confederate captain, but not fully. High Priest Yovakior wasn’t one for extended corporeal punishment, but even he had limits.
The only reason he wasn’t currently inflicting more was because of the uncertain question over the captain’s innocence.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, Archmage Veltori’s voice suddenly cut through the panicked alien news reports, his voice filled with grim determination. “Your Holiness, we’ve managed to extract and examine a whole, undamaged computer core. The evidence is undeniable, it is clear that the confederate crews were just as victimized as the people of the planet below.”
“...I wouldn’t go that far, Archmage,” Yovakior snapped. “They may have lost friends, but not one has lost a child over this travesty, much less a whole city’s worth of them.”
“That does not change the fact that they are innocent, High Priest,” Veltori pointed out. “Any punishment towards them is ill-advised, as they were ultimately not to blame.”
“You are right, of course,” Yovakior said, before turning to the battered krin still waiting for his sentence. “Well, you and your people are in luck, Izahlak. You get to live another day.”
The confederate soldier let out a sigh of relief, especially when the nearby healer began sweeping her wand over the broken crustacean, mending his exoskeleton, and repairing his internal organs. The nagina holding the wand did not keep her spell on the captain for long, however, as even the most powerful healing spells could prove fatal if held for too long, as the body would begin to cannibalize itself looking for nutrients to expedite repairs if pushed too far.
That being said, the aid the healer provided was still quite substantial, allowing the krin captain to breathe easier, and sit up a little straighter as he looked up to the high priest. “What happens now?”
Yovakior looked at him for the longest time, before turning back and gazing out onto the world below. “As innocent as your people were, your ships were still used in a xenocidal attempt upon this world. It was only through our direct intervention that a mass extinction event did not take place here, and this world’s inhabitants will not forget the lives that were lost,” Yovakior muttered, his eyes sweeping over the blue sphere as it slowly rotated underneath him. “Until further notice, the confederacy will be contained to its own systems. Any soldiers or ships found outside its territories will be assumed hostile, and will be hunted down and destroyed. A missive shall be drafted and sent to the Hiarch, and your people will be escorted back to Cithanar at the earliest possible convenience.”
“...What about them?” Izahlak asked, pointing out towards the world below.
“We will deal with them. Just know that your ships have caused far too much damage for them to forgive you in the foreseeable future. Go, rest, and return to your troops. We shall inform you later on what our intentions are.”
The krin then left the room, but not before bowing to the high priest in gratitude. High Priest Yovakior did not see it, however, as he was too busy gazing out over the broken world beneath him.
If he were being truthful, he had absolutely no idea how to handle this mess. He had brought a force to repel an invasion, not to relieve a global-scale disaster. Even if he had, the planet’s lack of a spiritual field was a huge hindrance to any relief efforts he could offer, especially with how active their star was. A modified artificial spiritual field projector would allow his nags to operate on the planet’s surface, and the ruined scientific base had enough functional fabrication bays to easily match their need, but even with their aid, he simply did not have the personnel to address such widespread destruction.
The high priest had expected an invasionary force, one designed to hit hard, and steal the populace, rather than one attempting to destroy the planet and themselves with it. Because of this miscalculation, eight ships had gotten through the high priest’s net, and had each made a beeline for heavily populated city centers across the planet’s surface. Yovakior’s forces were able to break up and destroy large portions of the ships before they had made planetfall, lessening their size and eventual impact, but their ruined frames had still wreaked unimaginable damage upon the world below, with one in particular having slipped through with minimal fire. No continent had been left unscathed, as the ships had purposefully aimed for the world's densest population centers, but the area where the largest, least damaged ship had crashed looked nothing short of a wasteland. The impact alone would have been enough to wipe the city off the map, but because the ship had armed its missiles and overloaded its reactors in preparation for the crash, the resulting explosion had been enough to create a crater large enough to be seen from space.
“What was the name of that city?” Yovakior asked softly as the crater slowly came into view. It was a nasty brown scar on the face of the once glorious planet, stretching on for miles in all directions. The dust alone that had been kicked up would have been enough to start an ice age on this planet if not properly treated, but when Yovakior factored in the radioactive component, as well as the damages and radioactive contaminants spread by the other wrecks, he could easily see this planet becoming completely uninhabitable within only a few short years.
Just staring out over the ever-looming crater made his blood boil with the quiet fury of a thousand suns. Whoever was responsible for this atrocity was going to pay.
“The name of the city was Dehli, and up until recently, it had the highest density of the resident sapient species out of any city on the planet,” Yavaar’s voice piped up, answering the high priest’s question. “The damage to the planet is massive, and will take time as well as our direct intervention to prevent a global catastrophe.”
“Time, and personnel, that we sadly do not have…” Yovakior muttered as he watched the planet spin below. “If we want to catch these monsters, we need to leave now, while the trail is still hot. They’ll most likely retreat further into deep space, and any location we can glean from the captured ships will probably be useless in a few weeks. But if we leave them to their own devices, there is no guarantee that the planet will survive…”
"Agreed. In addition, the prophet will be sending additional support after receiving your report. The people below will suffer, but they will survive long enough for the relief mission to arrive. Estimates point to a 97% chance that the species will endure long enough for aid to come to them, though the casualties will be extraordinarily high."
"Thank you, but I guessed a great deal of that already. Their chances would be higher if we left them with something, first," High Priest Yovakior growled in frustration, before turning back to his desk. “Yavaar, how fast would it take you to manufacture an atmospheric purification system for the planet?”
“At most, two weeks. However, the bays must be excavated and powered, first, and that may take a week all its own,” the computer responded.
“Meaning that it would be in our best interests to abandon them here, and head the mad emperor off before he’s had a chance to run again…” Yovakior muttered as he pounded a single fist into the surface of his desk. “It’s a sad state, but I must trust that the planet will withstand this for now. At least, it will survive long enough for us to catch the monsters responsible.”
“Very good, sir. I will… Sir, I am sorry, but the ship’s computer has informed me that a quzin identifier has just appeared on the planet below. It is Priestess Akitesh, and she requests an immediate audience with you.”
“So she survived the battle…” Yovakior muttered as he sat down and booted up his personal computer terminal. “Get her up here as fast as possible, the archmage will want a word with her about her visions…”
“I will, sir, but she’s informed me that she needs to speak with you now, sir, in private,” Yavaar said, his voice clearly uncomfortable. “She has informed me that she has discovered something unsettling about our cousins that may change how we deal with them going forward.”
This caused Yovakior to stop in his tracks, and he briefly pondered what could possibly be that important. “Very well, put her through.”
The high priest’s computer screen went black for a second, before revealing an extremely dirty-looking quzin nagina, covered in bruises, with a single, white, yet bloodied patch of cloth over her left forehead ridge. She immediately saluted upon seeing the high priest, but even with the formality she displayed, she couldn’t quite rid herself of the crazed, fearful look in her eyes. “Greetings, Priestess. I hear you have something for me?”
“I do, indeed, High Priest… Sir… they… the humans…” Akitesh muttered, clearly nervous about something.
“Priestess, spit it out. I can’t stay here all day,” Yovakior snapped, not liking how she was dithering about.
Akitesh swallowed heavily, before shaking herself free of whatever misgivings she had been harboring. “…Sir, I believe the humans are capable of resisting The Veil.”
There was a pause after this pronouncement, and Yovakior found himself inserting a finger in his earhole, if only to clear the earwax he was sure had built up there. “I’m sorry, priestess, I’m sure that I had misheard you there, I could have sworn that you said-”
“They can resist The Veil, sir. I have proof,” she stated again, this time a little more insistent.
Yovakior eyed her for a full three seconds, not sure if he wanted to head down this rabbit hole, before he leaned forward, his eyes intent upon the priestess. “Show me.”
For the next hour Yovakior watched, then rewatched the video that the priestess had provided, each time seeming more unreal and unbelievable than the last. He had dismissed the priestess a long time ago, informing her that he would speak with her again once she was aboard the ship and had had time to rest, but he did not stop reviewing the fantastical, unbelievable feat that had been recorded by her guardian. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, the High Priest of the Holy Armada flopped back into his chair, completely drained. “...Yavaar?”
“Yes, sir?” the artificially forged soul responded.
“Have all forces immediately set about the relief efforts. We are staying.”
Yavaar made a confused sound at this. “But sir, if we do not leave now, we risk the emperor getting away, and-”
“We are staying,” Yovakior stated again, this time with iron in his voice.
“…very well, sir,” Yavaar said, before falling silent.
Yovakior sat at his desk, silently contemplating the paused video in front of him, equal parts wonder and horror in his eyes. The view was of a human pair of legs, standing up of their own accord, as a human-made rifle inexplicably floated in the air in front of it. Through the smoke that shrouded the bloody stump the legs were attached to, Yovakior could barely make out a snarling, spiteful, smoky face of someone who had already shed their mortal coil, and traveled to the great beyond.
Only to come back, somehow.
“What dragon’s nest have you kicked up now, Emperor Histali?” Yovakior wondered aloud, before closing the video footage, and getting to work on coordinating the relief efforts. “And what terror have you unleashed upon an unprepared galaxy?”